Title: Recovery

Author: Goldy

Email: thegoldoneb_a@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Joss, you bastard. You own them and make them say weird things to other people and come up with cookie dough metaphors that don't mean s***.

A/N: Nearing the end here. This is the second to last in the entire series. I've actually finished the next part and will hopefully have it out by next week.

Dedication: To Laura! For being the bestest beta ever! And for all the TWoP quotes. Go read Salix Ardens wonderful W/T fanfiction!

Rating: R for my first *ahem* scene. Well, you know.

Hours later they still hadn't moved. They couldn't, the sun had come up, trapping Angel there until after sunset. Buffy didn't think that they could have moved, though… even if they had wanted.

She lay spooned against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her small waist. Their silence was broken only by small, hushed voices when they needed to say something, a cry, or a teeth bumping kiss.

"I don't understand what happened," Angel finally admitted out loud.

Buffy jumped, surprised at hearing his voice. She shook her head, held his hand tightly. "It doesn't matter how… you came back to me…" she trailed off, remembering her dream. Remembering how she had vowed not to rip Angel away from the only peace he'd every known. He shifted, sitting up, Buffy leaned back against him, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

She felt him stiffen, felt his hold around her waist loosen. "For what?" he asked, voice hard as steel.

"Angel…"

"I tried to kill Dawn," he burst out angrily, "I *did* kill Fred…." His anguished eyes drifted down her throat, took note of her wrist lying uselessly at her side. It was swollen, purple, bruised, and she hadn't once complained about the pain it must be causing her. "I hurt you… drank from you…"
 

"I know!" she cried, "and you have to live with that! God, Angel… I'm so sorry that you have to live with that."

He sighed, resting his head against her shoulder. He breathed her in… hating himself for the things he'd done, yet knowing that she was more vulnerable than ever. And that, for some reason, she still needed him. She reached up with her good hand, gently trailing her fingertips through his hair. "I was so afraid that I'd never see you again…" she said softly. "I thought I could do it, I thought I could kill you, but I can't… I can't…"

He planted a kiss to her shoulder, feeling a large lump rise in his throat. "We don't know, Buffy. We don't know if this is permanent, if I'm going to lose my soul at any moment…"

"The others did something… Angelus said he felt his soul on him, said that they failed. I felt something go through me, too," she added.

He nodded, remembering the way his body had started convulsing in pain as soon as her blood has began to rush down his throat. "We'll figure it out later…" he stopped as he saw her wince and glance quickly down to her arm. He followed her gaze, and she looked quickly away, unwilling to make him feel more guilty. "Let me," he commanded.

She looked backwards at him quickly before giving a quick nod. Pulling slightly away from her, Angel looked down at his tattered and blood spattered shirt before figuring that it would have to do. Yanking it off his shirt off his  head, he tore it in half and came around so he was facing her. Aware that her eyes were fastened on his face, he picked up her limp hand, wrapping the makeshift bandage around it.

She let out a little breath and gave a little smile. "That feels better, thanks."

"Did you lose a lot of blood?" he asked tersely, feeling fresh pangs of guilt for not helping her with her injuries sooner.

She ignored his question, and trailed his bare stomach with her fingers. Her eyes were wide, looking at his bullet hole with fear and apology. "Does it… hurt?"

He covered her hand with his own, "A little… I heal fast. Especially after drink--" he stopped, ashamed suddenly at what he had been about to say.

She ignored him. "I'm sorry for shooting you."

His smile was tight. "Believe me when I say you don't have to be the person apologizing here."

She cocked her head, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Assume that everything's your own fault," she replied. "You're not Angelus."

Buffy watched the emotions play across his face, bitterness, anger, resentment…. He stood up suddenly, turning his back on her. "You don't understand." His voice was quiet, tight… and like the blades of a hundred knives cutting into her heart.

She stared at the floor, "Don't understand what?" she mumbled.

He paced restlessly. "Never mind."

Buffy let out a harsh sigh. "WHAT?" she demanded. "Angel, if we're going to get through this you better damn well learn how to talk to me." She saw him freeze, standing rigidly on the other side of the room. She felt a lump rise in her throat, wishing that he was still holding her. She continued in a gentler tone, "I love you, Angel… more than anything. I need you to talk to me. I need you not to drive yourself crazy."

"Everything he did, I'm capable of," Angel turned back around so that he was looking her up and down. "Angelus *is* me. Nothing he did is something I haven't thought about. Hurting you, torturing and killing my friends…" he put a hand over his heart, "it's all there. Every thought, every desire… it's part of me."

"I know," Buffy answered, stumbling up so that she could stand level with him. "I know… he's part of you. You couldn't be what you are without the demon."

He stared at her, unflinching, unblinking, the cold, hard stare of Angelus. "And you still claim to love me."

She felt like crying with frustration. So long they'd been together, suffered together, and he was still hung up on the fact that she didn't know what she was getting into. "I don't 'claim' to love you," she snapped, " but maybe if you think that's all I feel about you we shouldn't be having this conversation."

Angel sighed, his strong, commanding persona fading. He closed his eyes, looking old and haggard. "That's not what I meant."

"Why can't you just accept that part of what makes you the man I love so much *is* the demon? Angel, your whole being is centralized around the fact that you are trying to make amends for what *he* did," she cried angrily. She stared at the ground, feeling the anger dissipate and be filled with a longing relief, "You have no idea what it felt like to know that I had let Angelus free again, that the only person that could understand was out trying to kill me. You have no idea what it felt like having you ripped suddenly away after all we've been through this year. And you have no idea what it's like to get you back and watch you turn away from me, watch you pick a fight with me over on the other side of the room." She lifted her head, glared at him, "So don't even *DARE* tell me that I can't really love you."

Angel's mouth straightened into a tight line, but he walked over to her, resting his large hands on her small shoulders. "You should sit," he whispered gently, "you're hurt."

She stared open mouthed at him, not sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead she fell against him, pressing her cheek against his chest. "I hate you," she pouted.

He touched her soft hair, pulled her against him. "I'm really back, Buffy."

She sniffled, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I was so scared," she said, voice cracking more with every word.

"I know," he soothed, moving his hands comfortingly down her back. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't lose you again."

It was ironic, he thought, how he had been saying the very same words to her a couple of days ago. "You won't."

Buffy looked up into his eyes, let out a deep breath. "You are different…"

He wiped a tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "Hmmm?"

"Your eyes… you're always filled with warmth, tenderness. You can look at me like I'm the most important thing in the world, like nothing else matters. Angelus is always calculating, cocky… and he looks at me like his greatest desire is to hurt me."

"Buffy…" he trailed off, at a loss for words. Her arms traveled up his back, cupped his face in her hands. Pulling him down, she made him kiss her, tried to tell him all the emotions she couldn't voice aloud.

When they pulled away, she knew she was crying again. She could feel her heart tight in her chest, the voice in her head that still couldn't believe it… the cantbetruecantreallybehere she heard over and over again. She pressed herself against him, trembled and relaxed only when she could feel him all around her. He smelled like sweat and the underlying hint of blood, but it was wonderful and familiar.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so sorry."

"I didn't mean to!" she finally wailed. "I brought Angelus back and I let him kill Fred and hurt Dawn… and… and…" her voice trailed of in a sniffle. She pressed her face against his naked chest, let him rock her and shush her.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smoothed her rumpled hair and lifted her face. Her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks were white from the loss of blood. Still, she was beautiful and almost painfully innocent despite all that she'd been forced to go through in her hard, short life. He smiled tenderly, "Never blame yourself for being able to have the power of giving someone the gift of perfect happiness."

She leaned into the palm of his hand, closed her eyes. "Angelus said…"

"Angelus was trying to upset you," Angel cut in forcefully. "He wanted you off your guard enough so he could turn you."

She opened her eyes, "He almost succeeded."

Angel looked down, "I'm sorry."

Buffy frowned, wiped the rest of the tears away from her face. "I forgive you… if you can forgive me for letting him out."

Angel glanced up sharply. "I…" he trailed off, swallowed his protests. "I forgive you."

"Okay," Buffy let out a breath. "Okay, good. We're making good communication progress."

He gave her a stare, that clear 'what are you talking about?' stare that he always gave her when she brought up some sort of long relationship technique. She felt a deep warmth spread through her stomach and touch the bottom of her toes. That all too familiar sensation suddenly rocked through her. The burn and itch of desire that he always managed to ignite within her.

She kissed him, but it wasn't the small, light kisses of before, but deeper, filled with the aching desire that they were so often accustomed to. He was tentative at first, but his hands moved to her back, pushing her closer. His tongue slipped into her mouth and she nipped at it lightly, moaning as she pressed herself tighter against him. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the sordid muscle of his shirtless chest and she knew that they were driving headlong into something they wouldn't be able to stop.

She didn't care.

He pulled away then, took a series of quick breaths. "Buffy…"

Her eyes were stormy with desire and voice was husky when she pressed a finger to his lips. "We can. And will."

He nodded and mouths found each other again, hands explored places that had always been thought of as forbidden territory. She felt him press kisses to her nose, cheeks, eyes, back to her lips, down her neck, sucking and scraping her skin with blunt teeth.

She gasped feeling his hands under her shirt, unclasping her bra. She arched against him, feeling his hardness press against her side. He closed his eyes, shook his head, pressing her gently to the floor. She fell against the cool ground of the warehouse, heart galloping at a hundred miles an hour as she pulled him down on top of her.

He kissed his way up her stomach, tickling her sides while she gasped and blood rushed through her. He spent torturous minutes that felt like hours on her breasts. Teasing and kissing each one to a hard point and sucking each nipple luxuriously into his mouth before beginning the process all over again.

She ached with the burning need to have him inside her, to find the completion that only their joining could bring. But she savored each moment, letting herself touch him, run her hands over his finely tuned back and hard buttocks. Kiss her way down his sculpted chest and revel in the way that their lips felt against each other.

The need became too much and she reached for his pants, unbuckling them with the practiced ease of one hand. They cried out simultaneously at the first contact of their skin. Hot against cold.

He slipped into her, hissing at the way her heat engulfed him. Their coupling started out soft, gentle, but became fierce as the need to reassure themselves became deeper. Her hips came up to meet him as his thrusts increased and became harder. She cried out every time they met, the world spinning around her in a flurry of colours.

And they felt whole again, complete, like nothing had made them feel since the last time they had been joined.

They climaxed together, two supernatural cries yelling out together with the force of their pleasure. When it was over, Angel collapsed against her. She closed her eyes and let out a contented little hum. She laughed softly, exhaustedly, and ran her fingers slowly through his hair.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered in her ear. "More than anything. More than I ever thought possible."

She turned her head, found his lips and kissed him with pathetic coordination before slumping her head back to the ground. "I love you, too. Can I sleep now?"

He chuckled and slowly rolled off her. She curled against his side, ear pressed against the silence of his dead heart. "Buffy… if we… if Angelus…"

She felt herself go limp. "Don't."

"We don't know…"

"Anything," she finished tiredly, closing her eyes, and snuggling closer against him. "You could lose your soul at any moment. I get it. Just… shut up and hold me."

He held her, curled his body around her smaller one like he was her shield and her protector. "I don't feel evil," he reflected.

Buffy yawned. "Good to know."

He sighed and watched wearily as her eyelids began drooping. "You're really not worried."

She opened her eyes, struggled to force her pained body to a sitting position. She pulled some of her tattered remains of her clothes to her chest… which Angel found mildly ridiculous under the circumstances but he refrained from pointing it out. "Angel…" she looked at the ceiling for a moment as she tried to compose herself. "That was…"

"Amazing," he finished.

She nodded, swallowed the lump in her throat. "We did it… and, yeah, it was out of comfort, yeah, maybe we weren't really at full strength…"

Angel snorted. "I only stopped because I knew you were tired."

Buffy shot him a look… and tried to ignore the way her body responded to his words. 'Too tired!' her mind yelled in protest. She shook her head and took his hand. "We deserved it, Angel. And if the Powers that Be are going to punish us for it." She lay down, stretched out, "Then that's their loss."

He considered her words for a minute. He glanced down at her, the deep smudges under her eyes, the blood dried on her neck, her arm hanging limply at her side. He suddenly realized that there was nothing they could do if Angelus decided to make an appearance. No way that she could fight him again.

Giving in, he stroked her hair, watching as her eyes fluttered closed. She relaxed in her sleep, body invariably shifting close to his. He was touched by the way that she seemed to trust him—even in slumber and stumped by what he had done to deserve the gift of her love. Shifting, he moved what leftover clothes he could find to cover her with. Once he was satisfied she was warm enough, he gathered her against him and let the soothing lull of her heart put him to sleep.

****

The three remaining members of the AI team, plus Dawn, huddled together in the lobby, each clutching on to a stake. Ethan Rayne lay where he had passed out. No one had bothered to move him after the initial checking to make sure his pulse was still going. They were quiet, subdued… and petrified.

No one had dared fallen asleep, even during the day. The sun had set an hour ago and there had been no sign of Angel or Buffy. They were too tired, too scared to talk. The silence was only broken by the forced act of eating.

When the door finally opened, they tensed as one, each glancing sharply up to see who was coming upon them. Cordelia gasped, closing her eyes and raising her stake, "I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die," she mumbled over and over again under her breath.

Dawn sucked in a breath, moved slowly towards the door, only to jump back in fear when Angel staggered in. Gunn was the first one to lose it and he fired off a shot from the crossbow he was holding. Only deep ingrained instincts made Angel roll out of its way. Gunn loaded another arrow as Angel struggled to get to his feet.

Buffy stumbled in through the door next, spied Gunn and tiredly raised her hands. "S'okay," she said and reached out to help Angel to his feet.

She leaned heavily against him and they managed to slowly make their way forward. The other four moved out of their way as they struggled towards the stairs. "Um, hello?" Cordelia asked.

"We're fine," Buffy answered. "Tired." Together they slowly made their way up the stairs, taking one step at a time.

Wesley frowned at their ratty clothing, temporary relief at seeing them both alive and, apparently, on the force of good, was replaced by worry of their health. "Perhaps you should be going to a health center."

Buffy tried to snort but it came out as more of a groan. "Sleep," she muttered, taking another step with one hand on the railing, and the other gripping Angel's arm.

Cordelia looked them up and down and frowned. "Shower too, maybe?"

"And Angel's soul is bound!" Dawn cried cheerfully.

 "We know," Angel replied without turning around.

And then they were gone and the AI team was alone. Again. They glanced at each other, and as one, melted to the floor. "Well that's not very fair," Cordy griped. "Leaving us to worry like that and then disappearing as soon as they get in."

"They don't look so hot," Gunn pointed out.

Wesley sighed, "I don't suppose that what they've been through was that easy."

Dawn suddenly jumped up. "They know? How do they know?"

Cordelia yawned and patted Dawn on the head. "You're much too young to be asking questions like that."

Dawn glared at her before looking at Wesley. "Do you think they… you know…"

Gunn snorted. "I bet she was just trying to comfort him."

Cordelia smiled condescendingly. "As long as you believe it…"

"I can't believe this!" Dawn muttered.

Cordelia flopped onto her back and folded her arms over her stomach. "Doesn't matter, his soul is bound."

"Yeah, but they didn't know it at the time," Dawn protested. "They knowingly put us all in danger."

Wesley gave the girl a pitying look. "I'm sure Buffy would never willingly put your life at risk," he said softly.

She shrugged, leaning back on her elbow. "I guess it doesn't matter."

"Would you people *please* keep your traps shut?" Gunn grumped. "Some of us would like to get some sleep."

 "I love you all, you know that, right?" Cordelia suddenly blurted out, surprised by a quick, sharp feeling of emotion.

Gunn sighed. "Cordy…"

"I'm serious," she said, rolling over on one elbow. "We came so close to losing everything that we've worked so hard for. And that scares me. I think it's going to scare me for a long time."

"It's hard to believe that he's up there now," Dawn whispered. "After everything… he hasn't even said sorry."

"It's hard to believe that Buffy can touch him now. Accept him so easily," Gunn added.

"Of course she has," Wesley interjected sharply. "Angel is too ashamed to face us. He needs time and our unconditional support. It would take a large man to look us in the eye after the things Angelus has done. And we cannot condemn him for it."

Cordelia sniffled. "I'm just glad that he's back. I'm so glad that she didn't have to kill him." She rolled back over, shutting her eyes, "Angel isn't Angelus."

Dawn chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I guess we'll have to do that whole 'recover given enough time' thing." She sighed painfully, head rolling back to lean against the couch. "And I have to get up early for school tomorrow."

Gunn shrugged, situating himself between Cordy and Dawn and throwing an arm casually across each of their shoulders. "I don't care what y'all say. I'm staying up all night."

Cordelia yawned, and stretched out against him. "Hmmm…"

Dawn followed suit, beckoning to Wesley. "Gunn is comfy," she murmured before drifting off.

Soon Gunn, surrounded by Cordelia, Dawn and Wesley, found himself witness to the largest mass of snoring he'd ever heard. Most of which was coming from Cordelia. Groaning, he glanced up the stairs.

"All night," he steadfastly resolved.

Five minutes later he was asleep.

****

When Angel awoke, he caught Buffy looking at herself in their bedroom mirror. He was momentarily surprised that her moving out of bed hadn't awoken him. Frowning, he padded over to where she was staring at herself.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked without turning around.

"You know that I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said tenderly, tilting her chin up to look her in the eye. "You also know that you never have to fish for compliments with me. What's really going on?"

She blushed and leaned into his arms. He held her tightly, smoothing his hands down her arms and waiting patiently for whatever she had to say. "It's been a hard few days. Sometimes I wonder…"

"What?"

Her breath was warm against the cool skin of his chest and he unconsciously pulled her tighter against him. "Stuff. About myself. I feel lost, like it all can't be real."

He rested his chin against her head, mulling her words over. "It hasn't been easy."

She laughed bitterly. "Everything that's happened? Is it worth it? Is it worth what we put our friends through, the pain that we put ourselves through?" She paused, "Sometimes I wish that we could just…"

"Forget."

She nodded miserably against him.

He sighed, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. "It is," he told her quietly.

"Is what?"

"Worth it."

Buffy blinked back tears, momentarily surprised by the sheer honesty in his words. "I love you so much. I can't stand the thought of losing you again. I can't do it anymore."

He took her hand and led her over to the bed. He gently pushed her down so she was sitting. Carefully he examined her wounds from the night before, tending those that needed tending, and making noises of approval over the ones that were closed or healed. She kept talking and he waited patiently, knowing that she needed to get it out of her system.

"I'm also worried because I brought you back from wherever you were and I don't want you to blame me for taking you away from the onlypeaceyou'veeverknown."

He paused, a Band-Aid held up in the air. "Don't," he told her, a low warning in her voice.

She looked at him, vulnerability in her eyes, "I'm selfish because I don't think I care. I don't think I care about what you need to go through so I can have you back."

"Always you," he answered. "You're the only peace I've ever known."

She blinked, taking in his answer. "I love you."

He smiled, placing the abandoned Band-Aid on a cut above her eye and pressing his lips to the cut after he was done. "I love you, too."

"I'm not as strong as I once was, Angel," she admitted, changing the subject. "It's hard to accept that I'm so weak and that I'm so tied to one person."

He glanced sharply up. "We already tried the forgetting thing."

She shared a sad smile with him. "I guess that it didn't really work out, huh?"

Angel massaged her wounded wrist and applied a proper bandage. "That's healing fast. And, no, it didn't work."

Buffy swept her eyes over his chest, before meeting his eyes. She softened. "I guess you've pretty much healed."

He touched the tips of her hair, "I'm a vampire."

"You guys must be pretty used to getting shot."

"Hmmm," he agreed nonchalantly. "You feeling better?"

She held out a hand and he helped her gracefully to her feet. "Mostly. I think that when it comes to us, ultimately, we're stronger together than apart."

He gave her a cocky grin, bending down to give her a quick kiss. "How many years did it take us to figure this out?"

Buffy felt the quick, hard shoot of desire and she was reminded how he was standing in front of her… mostly undressed. She gulped. "Plus your soul *is* bound now."

"I may have heard that rumour."

Someone shrieked and Buffy and Angel both jumped up in surprise, bodies slipping into identical attack stances. "Cordelia?" they cried in unison.

She held her hand over her eyes and stumbled around, banging into things and yelling. "I'm not looking! I'm not even here! You don't see me!"

"Cordelia," Buffy snapped, "open your eyes for God's sake."

Carefully she lowered her hand, opening one eye, followed slowly by the other. She visibly relaxed when she saw that they were decent. "Breakfast."

Angel stared at her. "You came into my room, without knocking, when you knew we could have been in the middle of something, to say you had *breakfast*?"

"Also major apologizing and groveling is scheduled," she retorted cheerfully. "I just thought I'd warn you."

She turned on her heel and flounced out of the room. Angel watched her go with a bewildered and mildly guilty face. Buffy took his hand, held it firmly.

 "Shall we?"

Angel took a deep breath. "Yeah… as soon as I find a clean shirt."

End of 16

One part to go. Leave me precious feedback! *g*