Chapter Twenty: The Angel Factor

A little while later, Buffy and Spike entered the kitchen at 1630 Revello Drive. They were still arguing over the vamp fight.

"I still think that was a bit much," she said, shrugging out of her jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.

"Right. So you would rather I had let him off easy. A quick stake to the heart? No bloodshed, no retribution." He sat down at the table.

"Retribution for what? Interrupting a peaceful stroll through the cemetery?"

"Being a vamp? Killing dozens and dozens of people?"

"Oh, I doubt that guy killed dozens and dozens," she said, going to the cabinet and taking out a box of hot cocoa mix. "Didn't seem like he'd been above ground very long."

"Oh thanks. Steal my thunder, why don't you? Oh, he was just a fledgling, so of course Spike could kill him," he mocked.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Buffy crossed over to the table and put out two mugs. "Why don't you go see if Dawn wants some hot chocolate? After all, you are her Watcher. She's as much your responsibility as mine now."

Spike grumbled as he pushed himself up from the table. As much as he liked to complain, there was a part of him that was thankful for the fact. Now he was just as connected to Dawn as he was to Buffy. They were family now. All of them. Whether he was married to Buffy or not, it was official. He was a part of their lives for good now, and he was more than a little warmed by the thought.

Making his way into the living room, he heard the lilting tone of Dawn's voice.

"He's not taking it all that well, but you know? In time."

"I can just see it," a familiar voice laughed. "Spike dressed in tweed, a thick volume of text in his hands, pontificating on the importance of knowing your opponent and not getting yourself vamped. Boy those Powers do have a sense of humor."

Angel!

Spike felt the blood begin to boil in his veins. "And what would you know about it?" he asked, stepping into view.

Angel got up from his seat on the coffee table. "Well, there you are. Heard you'd gone out on patrol. I wasn't sure if we'd be seeing you back in one piece tonight."

"I'm bloody fine."

"I'll bet."

"Spike, you'll never believe what's happened. Angel--"

"Now wait," Angel said, cutting her off. "I think we should wait until Buffy's here to break the news. Where is she?" he asked, his voice hard and accusing.

"In the kitchen," Spike said, his eyes locked with Angel's.

"Buffy!" Dawn called.

A moment later, Buffy came in from the kitchen. She had a dishtowel in her hands, and was wiping them dry. "What is it Dawnie?"

Before Dawn could even answer, Buffy lifted her eyes and caught sight of Angel standing across the room. "Angel."

"Buffy." He broke away from his Mexican standoff with Spike and looked down at her.

"What . . . what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" He crossed over to her and took her by the arm, leading her away from Spike.

Spike growled, but made no move to stop him.

"Buffy, didn't I tell you to call me if anything unusual happened?"

"Well . . ." she thought for a minute, "yes."

"And?! Don't you think Spike coming back from the dead is something unusual?"

"Well, I don't know really. This is Sunnydale. People come back from the dead all the time."

"Buffy," he scolded harshly.

"Look Angel. I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking about it. It's been a long couple of weeks. I would have called you eventually," she offered weakly.

"I'll bet," he said. "So, was I going to get a wedding invitation, or were you just going to call me once your kids had set off for college?"

"That's not funny," she said, pulling her arm out his grip.

"Buffy, we need to talk."

"Then talk."

Angel glanced about the room, eyeing Dawn, then Spike. "I think this is best done privately."

Buffy looked at Spike. He didn't seem happy, but he didn't say anything. "All right." She went to lead Angel into the kitchen.

Dawn stopped them. "Aren't you at least going to tell them first?"

"What?" Angel asked.

Dawn widened her eyes at him. "You know . . . about the thing? The Oracles?"

"What about the Oracles?" Buffy asked, turning on Angel.

"Oh, yeah, that." He laughed nervously. "I went to see the Oracles. I know, I know, we all thought they were dead. But hey? Turns out they weren't. Anyway, I went to see them, to ask for Spike's life back."

"What?!" Buffy asked, dumbfounded.

"Bloody hell," Spike cursed.

"You? You asked for Spike's life? Why?"

"Because," Angel grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her closer to him, "we needed you. It was the only way to get you back. Willow said she couldn't go inside your head and save you. I didn't think we had much choice."

Buffy searched his eyes curiously. She couldn't quite believe it. "You . . . asked for Spike's life back?"

"Yes."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Spike grumbled.

"Now, Buffy. I need to talk to you." Angel tried to pull her toward the kitchen.

She held back. "Wait. I don't quite understand. Why did you ask for him to be human?"

"I didn't."

"Then how . . .?"

Angel sighed heavily. "The Oracles asked me what I wanted. Whether I thought Spike should come back as a vampire or a man. I didn't choose either one. I told them that I just wanted what was best for you."

Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Overwhelmed with a new appreciation for Angel, she lifted up on her toes and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered softly in his ear.

"No," he said, "don't thank me. I'm still not sure I did the right thing."

As she stared up at Angel, tears beginning to well behind her eyes, Buffy heard the basement door slam shut. Oh great! Not again. In his final days as a vampire, that had been Spike's answer to everything. Run to the basement. He was doing it again.

She pulled away from Angel and moved to head toward the kitchen.

Angel stopped her. "Let me," he said.

"I really think I should--"

"Buffy," he said sternly. "We've got some unfinished business. Let me talk to him."

Uncertainly, Buffy stepped out of Angel's way, clearing his path to the kitchen. Any confrontation between Angel and Spike could not end well, but they were grown men - well, sort of anyway - and she had no right to stand in their way.

"Thanks," Angel said. "I won't be long."