A/N: Heh, hi.  Remember me, the writer? Yeah, no offense taken if you don't, I know it's been forever.  I am so sorry about the long delay.  There really aren't any excuses for that long a time.  It just wouldn't get written, for various reasons.  The good news: there's more! Here it is! The bad news… there's going to be even more, and I can't promise when it's coming out.  I'd like to say chapter six will be up soon, but I don't want to make promises I can't keep. But it will be up eventually.  Thanks so much to Rogue Slayer, Iris, Jane Davitt, Jen (for so much, you know I wouldn't be right without someone as obsessed as I am to share it with), Anne Rose, Bonnie, FanFreak, babe, Ao Tianrong, Werewearer, Cabbage, Tariq, BriDget jones, and Arba for reviewing.  You guys are wonderful, and I apologize again for the long delay.

Angel was the first to wake that evening.  It was a strange sort of sensation.  The smells of a crypt were not unfamiliar to him, though it had never been his first choice of housing.  He knew, too, before he was even fully conscious again who else was in the room with him, and for a moment, it was as if the last hundred years had been some strange dream.  Then came the shift back to the present, and he opened his eyes.  His gaze immediately fell on the blonde vampire, hanging half off the bed, still asleep.  He smiled. 

            He stretched, able to feel, even through the think stone walls, the fading light.  He really couldn't stay away from L.A. for too long, despite his promise to Buffy to stay as long as she needed him.  If she did want him, he would stay, but he was scared of imposing, of overstaying his welcome.  Last night, they'd been able to pretend their history didn't exist, but their one kiss proved that things would just go wrong again if he stayed.  It was too hard to be together, and not be together.  He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself for too long, especially with her weakened by grief.  And they had been down that road before.  It only ended in disaster.

            Inhuman hearing caught a noise from upstairs; the heavy door had been pushed open, and someone with light steps was entering.  He got up quickly, stealing over to the ladder, and climbed up silently, peering cautiously over the top.

            Buffy peered back at him, about to descend, clearly surprised.  "What are you doing here?"

            He looked up at her, startled.  "Sleeping."

            "With Spike?" she asked in skeptical disbelief.

            He was still staring at her.  "Yes."  Her forehead creased, and he suddenly heard what he'd said.  "I mean, no, I was… Buffy!"

            He climbed out of the ladder hole, and she backed out of his way, holding out a hand to help him up.  "Sorry," she murmured.  "I guess I didn't think about where you'd go for the day."

            "There were other vamps in the mansion," he explained, avoiding her eyes.  She nodded, and didn't say anything else, glancing around the crypt.  The silence began to stretch.

            "So what are you doing here?" he finally asked, looking at his hands. 

            "Oh, I just wanted Spike – to go patrolling – with me," she fumbled, and stopped talking again.

            "Oh," he managed to say, refraining from any comments.

            There was a noise from the ladder, and a blonde head emerged from the underground area.  He eyed the two of them warily, distrust in his face.  "Hello."

              Angel grew very interested in the cracked floor, attempting to watch their reactions to the situation out of the corner of his eye.  His heart seized when he saw the relief on Buffy's face. 

            "Spike.  You're… okay?"  She tried not to let her gaze wander over to Angel, and didn't entirely succeed.  He grew indignant.  Did she really think he would just barge into Sunnydale and kill Spike for no reason? 

No, wait.  That was fair.

            "Fine, pet.  How about you?" There was a softness in his voice that made Angel ache.  He knew that whatever Buffy might think of him, in Spike's mind, she was his.  For Angel, for once, it wasn't his girl he wanted to protect.  He loved her, but he knew her enough to know she could be vicious, especially if hurt.  And with Riley having just left, and the memory of him still lingering, she wasn't likely to harbor any kind feelings towards Spike. 

            But then… "I'll be okay," she replied just as softly.  He looked up incredulously, then ducked his head again, not wanting to break the moment, despite every protective impulse he had screaming at him to take her away from Spike.  He held off for a bit, letting them play it out.  But they were done, apparently, and Buffy was looking between him and Spike uncomfortably.

            "Did you want to come with us?" Buffy offered tentatively.

            Angel hesitated, raising his eyes to Spike's.  Dishing it out was one thing.  Actually working together, especially around the one person they would conflict over the most, was something else completely.  His childe dropped his gaze, frustration showing for an instant.

            "You two go," he muttered.  "I'll stay here, out of your way."

            Buffy looked confused, and a little hurt, and Angel looked at her helplessly.

            "Okay," she finally replied, coolly masking her emotions.  "Fine, then.  Angel?"  He turned, following her out of the crypt into the now-dark outdoors.

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            It was busy enough for a while that they didn't have to talk much, which was good.  Most of the small talk had been eliminated the previous night, and that would have left them only with issues that needed to be examined, and which neither of them really wanted to go into.  But the action-filled silence was still eating away at Angel until finally, after a particularly impressive dusting by Buffy, he turned to her in exasperation as she brushed herself off.

            "You can't possibly not have anything to say about yesterday.  About everything."

            She looked up at him in shock.  "Me not say anything?  You're the one who hasn't mentioned anything about Spike hanging around for a year and a half now."

            They glared at each other for a minute, and then he sighed, running his hands through his hair.  "Fine.  Why haven't you just staked him?"

            "He can't hurt anybody," she defended herself, the timeworn excuse.

            "He could if he was any sort of good at planning ahead.  Since he mostly acts on impulse, which the chip controls, that mostly works out.  But, Buffy, if he ever decided to really take initiative, he could hurt a lot of people.  I should know."

            She sighed, then, too.  "I know.  I really do.  I just… he's harmless right now.  If I tried to kill him, he'd be helpless to stop me.  It'd just feel wrong."

            Angel didn't reply.  He couldn't say he disagreed, but he wasn't sure if he approved of her softness for him either.

            "Besides," she tried hopefully.  "He really is helpful – when he's not trying to get around the chip with failed plans and stuff, you know."

            He looked down at her, and she smiled ruefully.  "I don't know.  He just creeped me out with saying he loved me and everything.  I'm still not sure he wasn't just really drunk."

            "I don't think so," he told her quietly.

            "But he can be funny, and I know he's got my back, if only so he can kill me for his own the day he finally gets free.  He's the muscle of the group, when he's not getting knocked out… and I'm suddenly realizing there's a lot of exceptions to my pro-Spike list."

            Angel nodded, smiling again.  "I noticed that.  There are always are, where he's concerned."

            "So that's why you went to his crypt to spend the night even though he tried to kill you last time you met?"

            "He didn't try to kill me," he objected.  "He was torturing me to get information."

            "And that's acceptable?"

            He shrugged.  "For vampires."  They walked on for a bit, both half-listening for creatures of the night.

            "How long are you staying?" she finally asked, as if afraid of the answer.

            "I can't stay long," he replied honestly.  "But I'll make time for here as long as you need me."

            "I never wanted you to go, remember?" she asked. 

            "What about when I beat up your boyfriend?"

            She winced.  "Well what was I supposed to say?  Please, stick around?  We both knew you wouldn't –"

            " – Couldn't – "

            " – stay, and that would have gone over real well with Riley afterwards."

            "Sorry," he muttered.

            She heaved a sigh, sitting down on a nearby headstone.  "No, it was for the best." Then she frowned.  "Actually, I'm not sure that's true, being as he left too and everything… I mean, for God's sake, the guy was jealous of everything.  He said something to me about how much time I spent with Xander – I mean, with Anya watching over him, like he'd have been able to make a move on me if he'd wanted!  And he was jealous of Spike!"  She stopped.  "All right," she allowed.  "With recent revelations, I can understand that.  But please, like I'd ever respond to him.  He's a vampire!"

            Angel cleared his throat, and she shot him a look.  "You don't count.  He enjoys killing, he doesn't care – or before when he had the chip he didn't.  I mean, he's only not hurting people because he can't.  Not because he doesn't want to."

            Angel didn't reply, uncomfortable.  It was all true, but she'd all but admitted she was fond of him herself anyway, and as they'd discussed the night before, it wasn't something he could help.  Situations changed.  People changed.  Feelings… might change on the surface, but deep down, they rarely did.

            She sighed, and hopped down off the headstone.  "I don't know.  If you're worried about my safety, don't be.  I can handle him if ever becomes a threat again.  I just don't see him as one now.  I see him as a potentially valuable ally, or at least asset."  She looked up at him, smiling, but a little uncertain.  "Do you think I'm crazy?"

            Since he was thinking along the exact same lines as regarded Spike, the honest answer would have been 'yes,' but he shook his head.  "No.  As long as you don't forget who he really is."

            She breathed out, stuck with unhappy thoughts, and turned towards home.  "I can't stay out too late.  Giles is at the house, but I promised Dawn." 

He followed her back to her house, and stood at the bottom of the steps.  "Do you want to come in?" she offered.

He shook his head.  "Unless you want me.  I'll let Dawn have some time with you."

Buffy's face grew a little more somber as she opened the door, and headed into the empty feeling house.

Angel stood on the front lawn a while, watching the house, thinking, until it occurred to him that Spike would be working himself into a horrible mood if he didn't get back to the crypt soon.

True to form, by the time he returned, Spike was sulking in his chair, staring at the TV screen, which had God knew what showing, with a half-empty bottle in his hand.  Angel sighed.

Spike refused to look up, glaring at the screen.  "Have fun snogging in the cemetery with the Slayer?"

"There was no 'snogging,'" he retorted, pulling his coat off tiredly.  "She wanted company, Spike."

"Sure, like she wanted company after her mum's funeral?"

Angel let out a frustrated breath, snapping off the television.  "No, like she needed someone to patrol with, so she wouldn't be alone.  You could have come," he pointed out.  "You didn't have to stay here."

"Yeah, the three of us.  That would have gone over real well.  Why didn't you just stay?"

Angel looked at the floor uncomfortably.  "All right, I admit it.  I'm weak.  But I'm only here for a few days, for her, and I'm supposed to not see her?"

"Wasn't that the plan when you left?"

"Dammit."  He took a deep breath, looking into Spike's eyes.  "If you weren't going to go with her, someone had to."

Spike snorted sarcastically.  "Yeah, and that should have been me.  Get it through your head, you big poof: she doesn't want me.  She wants you.  She will always want you."  He took another swig from his bottle, settling into his chair dejectedly.

"Well she can't have me," Angel snapped sorely.  "Remember?" 

They glared at each other for a moment, and then the older vampire sighed, and perched himself on the arm of Spike's chair, holding out his hand for the liquor bottle.  Spike handed it to him wordlessly, and he took a swig before passing it back.

"We're screwed," he said presently, after the alcohol had worked a faint, pleasant numbness on his brain.

Spike took the bottle back and only nodded.