Shanshu. That word tantalized and taunted him in turn, driving his thoughts along a well-worn path.

Angel found himself there, in her home.

"Buffy."

She'd turn and smile, pleased. And confused. "But the door..."

Then she'd know before he answered her "how" shaped lips and melted her disbelief with each warm truth. He'd smile indulgently, even if it infuriated her. How could he not? It was just a doorway. If death couldn't, hell couldn't and heaven couldn't, then how could this keep them apart?

And she'd reply,

"Uh, boss, you're blood's getting cold."

"It always is, Harmony, it always is."