Chapter Three - Keep Me A Secret

Wesley sat stiffly in the back of Angel's car. Being sandwiched between Gunn and Fred on one side, and Spike on the other, was not his idea of bliss. However Spike being in the back was the only way to ensure Angel would concentrate on the driving and not ripping Spike's head off. Although from the tense silence, Wesley was beginning to wish someone else had took the wheel. It was small blessings that Spike had insisted the little runt Vince ride in the trunk.

"Er, Wesley," Fred began awkwardly, shooting an anxious glance towards Gunn. "Could you just shift up a little?"

Realising how close his body was pressed against Fred's, Wes jerked away. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I didn't realise how close I was."

"Like hell you didn't," growled Gunn, as Fred gave an embarrassed smile.

"It's okay, Charles, Wesley didn't mean it," Fred told him, wishing she had never mentioned out loud Wesley's proximity.

Glaring openly at Gunn, Wesley attempted to make himself a little more comfortable. He noticed Spike's leer, and his patience snapped. "If you want to last the rest of this journey, shut it," was his malice-laced warning.

"Now, now, Wes. You just sit tight and get your knitting out. No need to get hysterical," Spike answered, mock sweetly.

As Wesley went to lift his stake, Angel's sharp words stopped him. "If anyone is going to stake his sorry ass, it's me. Is that clear?" Slamming his stake down, Wes crossed his arms angrily.

"Don't sulk, Wesley. It does nothing for your complexion," Spike jibed. "Anyway we all know Peaches likes to be the big boss - that never changed."

Gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, it took all of Angel's self control not to smack the perodoxide pain clear across California. "Just shut up, Spike," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"Oh dear. Is poor little Angel missing his big bad slayer?" Spike taunted, his eyes glistening with glee. "Not that I can blame you. That girl can do things to a man you only dreamed of - talk about slayer strength!"

Suddenly the car veered violently to the left, as Angel vaulted from the driving seat and tore into Spike. "Angel, what the hell are you doing?" yelled Gunn, clutching a terrified Fred. But Angel was oblivious, his fists smashing into Spike's face as Lorne swiftly grabbed the wheel, loudly cursing, and slammed on the brakes. From the trunk came frantic banging from Vince, which everyone ignored.

"Don't let me ever hear you talk about my girl like that. I'll kill you!" Angel roared, his hand reaching for a stake. As he raised his arm to dust Spike, Wesley caught his wrist. "Get the hell off my arm," Angel snarled, in full game face.

"No," answered Wesley firmly. "Not until you drop that stake. We need him on this one, as much as it sickens me to say. And every time you show that he's getting to you, the more he loves it."

Angel stared dumbly at a bleeding and battered Spike, and gave the stake to Gunn. "You're right," he told Wesley, and then turning to Spike, added caustically, "You're not worth it."

Wiping his hand across his bloody nose, Spike muttered, "Bloody charming that is."

Angel got out of the back and went to open the driver's side. "I don't think so, big guy," Lorne said quickly. "I, for one, really want to get to LA in one piece."

"I'll drive," Gunn offered, getting out to let Lorne in his place.

"Oh thank God!" blurted Fred, highly relieved. Then seeing Angel's questioning look, she simmered down. "I mean, I'm really glad that you're going to take a rest. You must be really tired after everything that's happened recently."

"Sure Twig. There's nothing more invigorating than getting your face beat on," Spike opined sarcastically.

Choosing not to answer, Angel quickly sat in the passenger's side, his expression still stormy. Spike was right: he really was missing Buffy. His heart felt empty and every minute he had to spend in the company of the creep who had taken advantage of her at her weakest point, riled him. It was only the fact that Buffy had a different view of her liaison with Spike that was keeping his childe in his undead state, and possibly the fact that Angel knew that seeing him with Buffy was eating Spike up inside. The sooner he returned to Buffy, the better.

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Xander sat with his back against Buffy's basement wall, halfheartedly twiddling with a stake from Buffy's weapon trunk. "So do you think we should try torture?" he asked Dawn.

"Maybe," she considered, transfixed by Xander's twirling stake. "Whatever Willow's doing isn't working."

"Hey, working here," Will chastised, a little hurt. Refocusing, she tried again to magically pull the information they wanted from the unconscious Robed Demon's mind, but nothing worked. It was like someone had put a lock on its mind, a lock that they did not intend to be easily picked. It was infuriating. Everyone was counting on her to break this demon, especially Buffy and Angel. She was the only one with power here, the only one who was capable of any level of spellcasting. That was what she loved about this gig: no pressure or anything.

"Maybe we should leave you alone," Xander suggested, hastily ascending the stairs with Dawn.

As the door to the basement closed, Willow felt a huge swell of relief sweep through her. Without their presence, her concentration sharpened, her magicks beginning to increase their pressure on the demon's internal mind lock. She was in. If only she could turn the key a little more - she mentally twisted it with more and more vigour. Then finally it snapped. Willow held her breath. Her mind was suddenly filled with thousands of disparate images, of rituals, of sacrifices, nothing making any clear sense. She channelled her energies more forcefully, looking for the coherence amidst the chaos. Then it hit her. Her body spasmed violently as she saw the decaying face of a demon rising from the earth, its eyes crawling with maggots. She tried to run, she tried to get away but it was too strong; Willow opened her eyes and screamed.

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So this was where he lived; very nice. Buffy surveyed the grand architecture of the Hyperion with more than a tiny hint of pride: her lover actually owned this. She smiled dreamily as she imagined herself reclined upon a luxurious kingsize bed, the soft silk sheets pooling around her waist as Angel's fingers slid all over her body. "Okay", she told herself sternly. "This is so not the time to have an Angel fantasy. Plenty of time for that after I've found out what's going on with him."

She had been watching the hotel for half an hour, looking for any signs of activity. There had been not a one. Growing increasingly frustrated, Buffy had decided enough was enough; she was going to have to spy on them. She felt a pang of guilt at the thought of eavesdropping but quickly dismissed it when she thought about the times Angel had done exactly the same to her. This was all for the sake of the common good, for her and Angel's future. And she would be damned if she would let him make any decisions about it without her say-so.

Leaving the safety of her jeep, Buffy moved quickly towards the hotel, looking for a vantage point to start her spying. What she really needed was a window, but with none in sight, she decided to try hopping over the wall. She landed in some sort of courtyard, and took care to keep herself well hidden, a skill honed from years of practice. Then she heard his voice. Fully aware of how easily she could be discovered, Buffy pushed herself down to the ground, praying he would be too engrossed in his conversation to sense her. He had now come out into the courtyard, pursued by a younger man, no more than 18 or 19, who looked vaguely like him.

Angel looked despairingly at the younger man, a look Buffy had often seen Giles give her. "I did not just abandon you, Connor. There were things to sort out in Sunnydale," he explained tiredly. The younger man, Buffy guessed his name must be Connor, still held Angel in an accusatory gaze and showed no signs of backing down. "You want me to call you father, but you show me no trust. How can I believe anything you say when all you do is lie?" Connor demanded, his voice choked with anger.

Father? The word reverberated around Buffy's mind. What on earth was this Connor talking about? Angel could not have children; he was a vampire for chrissakes! Surely there had to be some mistake.

"I am your father, Connor. That fact won't change whether you like it or not," Angel told his son, his eyes sincere. "But if you want to be a part of things here, you have to take a few things on faith. Can you do that?"

Connor's startling blue eyes seemed to darken for a moment as he considered Angel's words. The same colour as Dawn's, thought Buffy distractedly. She watched as he gave Angel a small, reluctant nod, then continued to listen to Angel's story of the goings on in Sunnydale. Buffy did not want to listen anymore. She just wanted to leave, to be anywhere but here. Her mind could not comprehend the reality of Angel having a son: Angel being a father. When had it happened? Who was the mother? No, don't think that. It would involve the unpleasantness of having to imagine Angel with someone else. Maybe it was selfish; after all, Buffy had had relationships since their split, but the thought of Angel moving on seemed something like betrayal. Remember he's with you now, he loves you, she willed herself. So why didn't he tell me? The unwanted thought would not leave her alone and Buffy felt sick to her stomach. She needed their relationship to be based on trust and sharing, not secrets and lies: she needed to believe Angel wanted her and only her. So why was that so hard right now?

Pulling herself together, Buffy focused on why she was here. She needed to find out what the Robed Demon had been up to when it cast that spell, she needed to eliminate the risk to her relationship. Nothing had changed. She still loved Angel, even if she was absolutely livid with him right now. Deciding it was best to secure some emotional distance, Buffy began to quietly slip away. However she stopped, locking her body stock still as she sensed the eyes of Connor and Angel trained in her direction.

"I think something's here," Connor said, his body tensing.

Angel gazed into the distance, his body tingling. It felt like Buffy but how could it be? She was in Sunnydale, handling the captive Robed Demon. He had to trust that she would keep to their agreement, that she would not follow him here. Taking a thorough sweep of the courtyard and seeing nothing, he decided to leave it. "C'mon, Connor. It's probably just your senses in overdrive. You just need to patrol," he reasoned lightly, hardly convinced by his own explanation.

Connor eventually turned, and walked back towards the hotel. Angel did not follow. Instead he gazed out into the courtyard, his eyes filled with longing. Connor cast a glance at his father, then went inside, knowing his father would come in eventually. He had often seen him looking out at the sky, his eyes peculiarly sad. He had not realised until now it was all over a woman, this Buffy his father had just told him about. The concept of love seemed a strange thing to Connor. He had grown up in a hell dimension where love did not exist, where each and every day had been demarcated with hate, violence, death and destruction. Yet something about the way Angel talked about Buffy piqued at Connor's heart: he wondered what it would be like to feel that way, to hold so much emotion for one person. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It was far safer to deal with the tangible: the flying dust of vampires, the snapping of a demon's neck.

Feeling Angel turn away, Buffy quickly moved, eager to be away from the courtyard. So they were going on patrol? Well, that would be three of them. She hoped they both liked company.

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Dawn decided she was going to watch some TV. Xander had just left to go home to Anya, leaving her with Cordelia, not exactly Dawn's idea of great company. Nor from the tight lipped look on Cordelia's face, was it hers. Still as they were stuck with each until Willow emerged from the basement, it was either TV soap marathon-ville or irking small talk with Cordelia. Dawn hastily flicked on the TV.

As Dawn began to settle on the sofa, she heard a strangled cry from the basement. "Get Xander quickly," she told Cordy, as she raced towards the basement. Her heart hammering in her chest, Dawn took the stairs two at a time, stopping dead as her eyes fell upon Willow's slumped form. "Willow?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Trembling, she edged closer to her, and put her two fingers upon Will's wrist. There was a pulse: Dawn let out a huge sigh of relief and set about placing her in the recovery position. Just as she was about to race upstairs and phone the paramedics, Cordelia and Xander appeared, their faces visibly shocked.

"What's going on?" Xander demanded, coming down the stairs, followed by Cordy.

"It's okay, Xan, she's alive," Dawn reassured him. "I've just got to get some help."

"Wait," Cordy prompted, seeing slight movement from Willow. "I think she's coming round."

They all went to her, Xander crouched by her side, as Willow groaned and tried to sit up. "Woah, hold on there, Will," he stalled her gently, supporting her weight as she fell back, weakened.

"Okay, Will, just take it easy," Cordelia concurred, looking at the drained Wicca in concern.

"It's okay," Will mumbled. "Just help me sit up." With Xander's help, Will brought herself to a sitting position.

Seeing the troubled expression on Will's face, Dawn asked her quietly, "Something's wrong, isn't it? What did you see?"

Swallowing harshly, Will met the younger Summers' eyes with something close to guilt. "It's not good, Dawn, no. I wish I had something better to say," she conceded honestly.

"Will you please just tell me, Willow? Buffy could be in danger," Dawn cried, her voice full of stress.

"And Angel," Cordelia added softly, worried for her boss and friend.

"I know," Willow gasped, her face pained. "I saw a demon being raised, but it was so evil. It was just full of the purest desire for destruction. And I felt it rip through me. It's not just Buffy and Angel in danger - it's everyone."

Comprehension hit Xander and he grasped Willow tighter. "They're bringing about the apocalypse," he exclaimed dully. "Oh great."

"Well it's nothing we haven't seen before," Cordy said, a little blasé.

"Actually," Will countered, her strength returning. "This is different. I saw this before, back when there were two Angels and I thought it was just Wolfram and Hart. But they're the least of our trouble. Whatever that demon was trying to raise does not want Buffy and Angel together long term."

Cordelia looked resolutely triumphant. "See?" she addressed the room. "I told you that them getting back together was a bad idea."

Ignoring her, Dawn turned to Willow, her eyes determined. "Okay, Will, you've got a visual. We've got something to research now. That's good, right?"

"I guess," Will murmured, her voice far from confident. With Xander, Dawn helped Willow to stand.

"So here you are." Xander stared in surprise at the angry figure of his girlfriend Anya, and backed ever so slightly away.

She continued to glare at him, as she descended down the stairs. "I haven't seen you for a week - I've been worried sick. You could have at least called," she berated him.

"I, er," Xander fumbled, searching for an answer to placate Anya. "I thought you knew I was at Buffy's. Why didn't you come here earlier?"

Lost for an answer, Anya continued to pout at Xander, as if her abandoned girlfriend rage was reason enough. "He does have a point," Cordelia spoke up, looking evenly at Anya.

Anya's mouth seemed to snarl, and suddenly all her rage was directed at Cordelia. "You can just stay out of it," she said icily, causing Cordelia to react in righteous indignation. "And you, Xander Harris, can just explain to me why she is here," she finished, flinging her arm accusingly at Cordelia.

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Keeping a good distance back, Buffy felt her breath hitch as she saw Angel and Connor take on a gang of vampires. They were amazing. Connor met Angel's every move blow for blow, effortlessly flipping over his father to skewer a vamp with a snap kick. She surmised he had inherited more than just his father's good looks: he had his incredible fighting ability too. It was like synchronised slaying, except far sexier. As she watched Angel vamp out and wail on a gaggle of three who had cornered Connor, she felt an involuntary thrill go though her. His strong arms easily lifted the vamps one by one and flung them away, his elbow coming up to block the attack of a fourth; his movements flowed so fluidly, that each and every single attack he executed seemed effortless. She visualised his griffin tattoo rippling as he staked vamp after vamp, and she longed to touch it.

Before she could become swept away by that image, she realised the fighting had stopped. Angel was offering his hand to a downed Connor. Buffy noticed how Connor blatantly ignored it and stood on his own accord. So much pride, so like Angel. Her heart stung as she saw the flicker of hurt across Angel's face. She then realised why Angel had not discussed Connor with her. His relationship with Connor was clearly far from secure, and there was still much unresolved tension between them. Angel never shared his deepest pain with anyone, but Buffy wished that he would with her.

"You think that Wolfram and Hart know more than they are saying," Connor said, falling into an easy stride beside Angel.

"I'm certain," Angel replied, his face hardening.

"You'll visit Lilah," Connor stated, not bothering to look at his father.

"Right again," Angel concurred, looking at Connor carefully.

"This Buffy is very special to you," Connor pondered. "You love her."

"I do," Angel murmured, smiling faintly at his son. They continued to walk in silence, both having reached some kind of an understanding. As they disappeared into the distance, Buffy felt the germ of an idea blossom in her mind. She could play Angel at his own game.

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Lilah had dressed carefully this morning, knowing it was an important day for her. At 9am sharp she was due in a meeting with her superiors that she knew was key in deciding her future, or more pointedly, whether she had one. Knowing it was useless to feel nervous, Lilah had thrown herself into making sure her explanations were watertight. Wolfram and Hart were her whole life; she had given everything for this career. She would use her former relationship with Wesley to her advantage and save her skin. That was why she had become Wolfram and Hart's top lawyer.

It was just turned 6.30am when Lilah unlocked her office, so she was amazed to see a diminutive blonde girl sitting at her desk, rifling through her files.

"Would you like to tell me what you're doing?" Lilah demanded, not at all intimidated.

"Trashing your files," Buffy replied nonchalantly, opening another file. "I've got to say Lilah, you really do need another secretary. My little sister is better organised than these."

Lilah crossed the room to her desk, and placed her briefcase pointedly upon it. "So let's cut to the part where you tell me who you are," she said.

Buffy glanced up, mock surprised. "Oh, didn't Angel tell you?" she answered sweetly. "I'm Buffy."

Lilah began to laugh, biting out, "Oh, I might have known. You'd have to be blonde."

Letting Lilah's insult slide, Buffy casually gripped Lilah by her jacket lapels. "Time for you and me to have a nice girly chat."

To Be Continued.