Thank You, Ka-mia2286, Veronica, Bera-Moon, Nina (A little reaction from the world now, more later, and we shall see Mr. burns again, just not right now), Crystalix (I was glad to see that I surprised someone), and Lis.

Thanks again Bera–moon, for Beta reading, and reviewing. Best of luck on finding a job. And anyone who is still reading the authors notes please read her brilliant story: Lone Ranger. After you review mine of course.

Angel POV:

Buffy shut the door to our room. I could still here the press outside hammering on the door, their accusing voices demanding a longer explanation for the sight they had witnessed moments earlier. They were shocked. Hell, even Buffy was shocked. Even she did not know how quickly I healed.

I had already talked to them. Told them the truth, as far I knew it. A court tested my blood in front of the media, it was normal. I wasn't an alien, and I didn't fly or shoot fire from my eyes.

I was inexplicable; I didn't really fit into any model. You couldn't classify me. Buffy sat besides me. I could tell she was still bothered by one of the questions that the press had asked. I couldn't blame her. The question "How long have you lived?" brought up my past, the fact that I only knew so much about it; I could have been around since the dawn of time.

But the follow up question was even tougher "Are you immortal too?" This question was directed at Buffy, and it brought up the only real problem are relationship had. The fact that I would live forever and Buffy would not.

I slipped my arm around Buffy's waist. She smiled, or tried to anyways. I didn't know what to do or say, there was a meeting scheduled in a few hours. I would have to represent the I.N. there; I hoped the other delegates would still take me seriously.

"I have to go now," I said quietly to Buffy, who nodded; she knew how important this meeting was. This was when the fate of my country would be decided and I desperately needed a cease-fire.

I kissed Buffy; even the sadness could not overwhelm our passion. I pulled myself away before it would be too late, I'm pretty sure the delegates at the meeting would frown heavily if I was extremely late because of my beautiful wife.

Then I opened the door ready to go downstairs, the paparazzi that had been lurking there for some time jumped around us pressing against my body. Snapping photographs, yelling questions, a cacophony of noise.

I pushed past the first two and I continued down the hall.

I couldn't answer any of these questions, so I tired to ignore them and focused on Buffy's kiss. I hit the button to call the elevator up to this door imagining her lips – the flesh, the moisture. I was caught up in the moment as I stepped onto the elevator, and out a few minutes later still in a daze in spite of the mob that had sprouted up around me.

I pushed through the crowd. Everyone stared up at me, touching me as if somehow my clothes would heal them. The clothes were just clothes. I smiled and nodded at them trying to be nice in spite of my growing claustrophobia.

Then a woman in the crowd caught my eye. She was dressed in red rags. The traditional outfit of a psychic. Her hair tumbled down past her waist. Her eyes were what really caught me they were blue, but by no means beautiful. There was a dagger hidden there, a uniquely violent kind of madness.

"Origins" she rasped, her voice that of a long time smoker, rough in everyway. I heard her above the crowd, even through she whispered.

She was not normal. I moved closer to her "What" I demanded.

"You were born in the Congo at the cusp of the world, you must return"

"What" I asked, the crowd still bustling around us. Ignoring her, as if she wasn't there. Only focusing on me.

"It's the only way to cure the curse"

"What curse?" why was I asking her all these questions. I didn't believe her did I?

"Buffy's curse, her old age"

Buffy could be immortal, I thought. But before I could say it out loud. The crowd turned violent. I felt a knife in my back, blood trickled down for my skin for a few seconds. Then I reached around, pulled the knife out, a spark of pain traveling up from my ribcage to my head. I felt the blood stop, the flesh moving quickly to cover the wound, the masses calmed then. The voice of a guard got them to part.

I looked around for the psychic; I could see her no more. But did see her in the first place for that matter? I mean I didn't believe in psychics. Did I?

"Hurry up." The guard yelled. "The negotiations have started.

Buffy POV:

I restlessly walked across the floor. Back and forth, back and forth. I sat down for seconds at a time, but I was too nervous to sit still. I tried to drink tea to calm me. But that just made me more hyper (I don't think your supposed to drink the whole pot in one go). I tried to eat chocolate, but that only helped me for a second.

It was three in the morning now and my love was still gone. He could be dead. Well not dead, but he could be trapped in a tiny little mettle box. Or filled with knives, or... "Shut up Buffy" I screamed at myself.

That's when I turned on the TV. There on channel one there was breaking news and my husband. At first I thought this was just another program on his immortality. But no, this was much more important.

As the monotone TV announcers voice informed me, and the rest of the world "Today an official localized cease fire was signed between the U.S. and The U.S.S.R. The peace agreement only pertains to Ireland, the USSR and the U.S. is still officially at war everywhere else. Still experts say this should be the beginning of the end. This Surprise peace was partially credited towards the actions of Liam Conner's Ireland's defector leader, who was only today revealed to be an imm"

I turned off the TV, and did my old cheerleading routine around the room. Now hyper, and happy, not nervous and hyper.

I met Liam with a kiss at the door. His mouth was happy, but his eyes, oh his eyes!

"What is wrong?"

Next Chapter: The Congo, anyone?

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