A/N: Thanks to my reviewers but especially the insightful Passionate Darkness. You are right, I do want you to be just a little confused. This chapter seems like it clears that out but next chapter adds a little more to the mix. Hope you enjoy and any comments are always welcome. By the way; I still own nothing.

Wrong but oh so right.

This is wrong. The words are whispered in the back of her mind at first but she ignores them, brushes them off like sweater lint, and lets them fall back into the darkness that is her shut down mind. This is wrong. Louder, more insistent this time, but to her the words are still equally pointless. She is loved. He does want her. And he still tastes that same exotic mix of chocolate and blood. This is wrong and you're going to set free a killer just to make your own stupid self worth issues go away. 'Go away' she tells the inner voice but this time the words have seeded and taken root. Gradually they force their reason through her psyche and their next attack succeeds in taking control of her voice.

"This is wrong." Oh the hurt in those eyes. But there was something else there too; what was it? Acceptance? Did he know she was going to pull back? Or had be been about to pull back himself?

"I know." Oh. He knew. The same old story; forbidden love, never to be fulfilled. Why had she even come here? She covered her mouth with one hand and put a little space between them. He watched her retreat from him and his heart fell. This is the reason he had fought for so long. She was why he had taken on this place here fighting for the greater good. Not because he thought they could ever really be together. Because as long as he was here, no matter how much it hurt, the ones he took down couldn't go after her. Time for that later. Time for stopping her from leaving was now.

"I don't even know why I came here."

"I do." At least he had her attention again and she'd stopped backing away. Even though it was only a few feet, and in this park that was nothing, it felt like he was looking across an echoing chasm into her eyes.

"You do?" All traces of the happy, smiling, blond girl she had once been were gone and the woman standing before him needed every bit of reason and logic he had in stock.

"I want you to be here, Buffy. We both miss him and we both knew a different side of him than most. The stuff between us; it can wait. He's gone, but his idea is still all around us." Philosophy from the undead souled creature before her. Should she be afraid? Still, his words made sense and let her think about other words shared with her friends before she'd left. She felt an echo of fear try to work its way up her spine but she firmly shushed it and pushed it back down where it belonged. She still forgot sometimes how well he really understood her.

"Okay. So what happens next?"

"If there's one thing I've learned in two hundred plus years it's that there's always another day tomorrow. Apocalypse pending, of course."

"Of course. What time is it anyway, it feels like the middle of the night."

"Time change; it probably is the middle of the night for you."

"Oh. That could do it. I don't suppose you've got a bed somewhere for a girl like me?"

"Not a problem." With a companionable gesture she falls into step at his side and he finds himself performing the small talk as he would with any other powerful client. This is Buffy, he tells himself; she's bigger than the small talk. Still, it feels better with the sound of his smoothly rambling voice moving through the pleasantries instead of letting the silence fill all the potential gaps. They moved together back to his office where Harmony had already placed a set of hotel keys on his desk. He moved to pick them up but stopped as Buffy stepped closer to him, her hand inches from his arm.

"Do you have somewhere... closer? To you?" His hand slowly moves back to his side and he turns to face her more fully. His eyes quest for the meaning behind hers and he curses his mind for tempting him. She needs to feel protected. She needs to feel loved. Just as long as she doesn't need to feel loved.

"Sure." He leads her down the elevator back to the parking garage and she realizes she's left her helmet in his office. Had she forgotten or had she meant to do it so she had an excuse to spend time with him? She does grab the bag off the back of her bike, undoing the leather straps and shiny leather buckles before slinging it over her shoulder. Without a word said she climbs into the passenger seat beside him and they move out onto the road. Time for her to puzzle out why she does things later. The ride is smooth but she pays no attention to it at all. She seems to be. Her eyes follow random sights and lights but her mind processes none of them. It's too busy trying to figure out why she's here. This is wrong, it keeps telling her. But if this is wrong then why does it feel so right?

"We're here." She looks up at the name in front of his building and they pull into the parking garage. She sees why he would like it here, she reflects after he opens the door for her; covered parking plus all of this? Where's the bad? She realized she'd focused on the apartment so she wouldn't stare at him but she still knew where he was; where he had been since opening the door for her and letting her walk into the room. The light was still off and he took his eyes off her to flip the switch near the door. He closes the door behind him and silently shows her the rest of the rooms. When they reach the kitchen she takes the step to reach the refrigerator door handle and at a nod from him she pulls it open. Soft drinks and bottled juice sit beside the bags of blood bringing a slight smile to her face.

"I'll take the couch, my rooms through there." Putting him between her and the door. For a second she fights the urge to bolt before realizing he's doing it to protect her, not to block her in. Her half sigh gets let out without notice and she nods silently as she carries her bag into the large bedroom. The bag is set on the bed and she stands with her hand on it trying to figure out what it is that feels so strange. This shouldn't be anything new to her. She's done the cross country road trip thing. I mean, she'd flown into New York and ridden the whole way here. Throwing this bag on beds that weren't hers and packing everything back into it before she left had become commonplace, hadn't it? So why did this time she not want to open the bag?

"Everything alright?"

"Fine." She snatches her hand off the top of the treated leather and slides it into her back pocket as she turns to face him. That was a practiced move, he thinks. One that puts her hand closer to the stake she's no doubt got back there while making any man's eyes follow everything else but her hand. He blinks as he forces his own eyes to land back on her face and watches her replace her fake relaxed pose with a real one.

"Towels are on the bar and I can go get anything else you need if you don't like my stuff. Hungry?"

"Starving." He smiles and leaves the room again, one hand already going for his cell phone. He may not order pizza very often, in fact having information connect him is faster than hunting for the number in a phone book; but he doesn't have to ask her what she wants on it. How many nights had the two of them spent in his apartment, or even his mansion, watching movies and cuddling before she tried to leave him behind and patrol? How many nights had he let her patrol alone? Not as many as she thought, but still a number that was by his standards far too high. And then after he left... How was he supposed to know all the things his leaving would have caused? He had done it for a good reason.

The sound of the water being turned on behind him made him glance in that direction before his mind caught up to his guest's presence. Well, she hadn't asked for anything. But with Buffy that didn't necessarily mean she didn't need anything. As self sufficient as that girl was, there were still some things she couldn't ask for. Was one of them shampoo? I guess he'd find out in a few minutes. Without thought his hands moved to fix himself a mug of blood, not remembering that he'd left one sitting on his desk, leaving his mind free to wander down its own inner roads. He eased into a chair in his living room and let his eyes float to the window. After all these years; after the fighting, the blood shed, the power play that'd cost him his shan-shu, Spike getting and then losing his, all the tears, all the heartache; she was here. But what now? She was here seeking comfort after getting his phone call. That was all, right? He knew why she was here, but what did that mean for them? Had he been pushed that step back into that 'good friend I can call sometimes but not sleep with' category?

The knock on his door surprised him so much he'd sprung to his feet and it was a sheepish man who opened the door and paid for the pizza. What the hell; he threw in an extra tip for the chance ass kicking almost received. The pizza had barely touched the counter top when the sound of water was shut off and Angel resisted the urge to smile. Buffy always did seem to know when dinner was ready. He poured a soft drink over some ice and set it next to the box before resettling himself into his seat. Should he try to find some kind of TV movie to fill what was sure to be some kind of awkward silence? She'd be eating and he'd sit there sipping his blood and maybe she'd take it as a sign he didn't want her there. The door to his bedroom opened and any question about her not wanting to ask for shampoo flew out the window leaving behind the old scent he still remembered. Vanilla with a light touch of flowers filled his nostrils and he breathed deep air he didn't need attempting to lock it inside him forever. If she left tomorrow that scent would still keep part of her here.

"Oh. Food." He listened as she pulled apart a paper plate from the stack he'd left next to the box and then assembled her selected pieces on it before crossing into his field of vision. She settled gracefully onto the couch at his right, hips moving first and her back stayed straight until her sweat pants slid across the leather of the couch. She pulled both bare feet up and tucked them under cross legged before she leaned far enough forward to set her drink onto the glass of the sparsely decorated coffee table and her plate got perched just above her crossed shins. Angel watched in seeming slow motion as the first bite was smelled, savored, and enjoyed before it even crossed her lips. Her teeth moved down and through the warm crust and melted cheese daintily without marring her pristine cheek.

"What?" She spoke through her mouthful so it came out slightly muffled. Angel blinked and took a slightly longer sip than usual so his answer would sound somewhat more plausible.

"Just remembering the first time I smelled that." She froze looking at him in a weird way. Was that too weird? Or did it just remind her about something Spike said? No way for him to know so he just sat there self consciously. She swallowed and took another bite absentmindedly, drawn off on some mental tangent. He waited patiently for her to look at him again before feeling it was safe to relive that story.

"I was looking for you. It was dark and I saw you walk by the alley I had just come down. I was going to stop you then but that smell stopped me in my tracks."

"My shampoo stopped you in your tracks?"

"Yeah. No. I mean, it wasn't your shampoo. I think that just compliments your scent. I was stopped because you smelled like power. Like a predator. I was a vampire suddenly set off his game because you smelled like a predator." She looked at him with a quirked up eyebrow as she took another bite. He smiled as he delivered the last part of that story. "I liked it."

'Every Slayer's got a death wish, luv.' She blinks to clear that voice from her head. The voice she's been hearing a lot of lately. His voice; Spike's. The fact that Angel knew she could have killed him and still followed her down that alley oh so long ago, did that make them more alike or less? She took another bite to give her time to think, leaving his admission unacknowledged.

For his part, Angel also felt like there was more to say, he just wasn't sure how to say it. Let alone what it was. Something was separating the two. No matter how well he still knew her, or could figure her out, it was like something was standing in the way. He knew she and Spike had been close and he knew losing him had changed her. He just didn't know how much.

"Thanks. For the pizza." He looked at her now empty plate and watched her pull her feet from beneath her.

"There's more. Help yourself."

"No thanks. I'm gonna get to bed." He left his mug on the table and started getting the things together that would turn the couch into something resembling a bed. It didn't take him very long but when he turned back to the bedroom door she did look to his eyes like she was even more tired than she'd been just a minute before.

"If there's something else you need just let me know. You have a good night."

"Thanks for letting me stay here. Goodnight, Angel." She had been standing, leaning really, against the door jam of the bedroom while he had his back to the wall. As she spoke his name she moved forward to wrap her arms around him, pressing her body close. His hands know where to go and he remarks again to himself the changes in her body from the sixteen year old girl he knew.

"Good night." She kisses his cheek as she pulls gently away and he lets her step away from him. Another step and she softly closes the door behind her. He waits until he sees the light under the door go out before moving silently back to the living room. Shunning the couch, for now, his thought is just to sit in the darkness, finish his blood, and wait until he's sure she's asleep.