AN: Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews!

Also...for those interested, I have a new short fic out. I couldn't post it here because of ratings restrictions. It's up on my site (link on my profile page) if you want to read it!

Chapter 27

With only a sliver of moon showing, the back porch was almost pitch black as Buffy and Angel sat on the bench. They weren't talking, simply enjoying the peace of the night. Buffy hadn't said much since the visit with her father earlier in the evening. She had to be worried about her father and what Gunn had called and told them, Angel figured. None of this was easy to deal with.

After the call from Gunn, Angel had joined Buffy and Giles and filled Giles in on what they had done, the meeting with the FBI and what they hoped to accomplish. As expected, Giles was not happy with their actions. He thought they were putting Buffy at risk. Which they were, but it was their only choice. By the time they finished explaining to Giles, and convincing him it was the right thing to do, he seemed to accept it, if reluctantly.

Giles hadn't wanted to leave Buffy. He was worried about her safety and wanted to protect her. Before he'd left, he'd asked Buffy again to come home with him, telling her it was safer for her there, but Buffy refused to go. She'd told him she couldn't go back to that house, that there were too many bad memories for her there. As much as he'd hated it, Giles hadn't been able to fight her on that issue. So he'd left her at Angel's, making sure Angel knew that if anything happened to Buffy, it would lie solely on Angel's shoulders.

The burden was a heavy one for Angel to bear, and he sincerely hoped he didn't let Giles down. Things seemed to be moving fast now that Gunn and the FBI were involved. Angel had no idea what was going to happen next, but he knew something was. It was all going to come to a head soon.

Next to Angel, Buffy shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked, raising his voice a little so it could be heard over the soft tune of the radio he'd set in the kitchen window before they'd come outside.

"No," she denied. "I was just thinking about the call from Gunn."

"You're worried," he assumed, rightly so.

"It's kinda hard not to be," Buffy admitted, shifting on the bench to sit sideways and face Angel. "They're going to know something is up when the FBI barge into the police station and want files and stuff."

"Probably," conceded Angel. "But they're not going to know why. There is no reason for them to suspect that you being alive and innocent is the motivation behind the FBI's moves."

"What else could they think?"

"That the FBI is investigating the Sunnydale police force," he posed what he thought they would think. "Gunn said they are going to take other unrelated files to try to throw them off a bit. Plus it will give them a basis of the PD's competency. They want to see if the cops did their job on other cases. If they did, it's all the more proof on your side that your case was purposely mishandled."

"I never thought of that," Buffy mused, amazed at the FBI's train of reasoning. "I just hope everything goes okay for them tomorrow."

"I'm sure it will," he assured her. "Gunn and his team know what they are doing."

Buffy cocked her head and looked at Angel. The pale, barely-there moonlight highlighted his cheekbones and shoulders, but left the rest of him shrouded in darkness. He was so much bigger than her, but she'd never once felt threatened by him. From the first moment she'd met him, she'd felt safe in his presence. She guessed it was his gentle, caring nature. Some people gave off an essence of coldness and hate, but everything about Angel was pure and good.

Where would she be if Angel hadn't come into her life? She'd still be sequestered in her attic rooms in her father's house, living under a veil of grief and depression. Angel had changed all that. He'd thundered into her life and brought the sun back. Buffy had hope now, hope for the future, hope that she would some day be just a normal girl again. Even if her innocence wasn't able to be proved, there was no way she could ever repay Angel for all that he'd done for her.

Angel noticed Buffy staring at him and felt a little fidgety. It was like she was looking right through him, into him. "What?"

"I, umm...I just wanted to say thank you," she said softly, blushing as she realized she'd been staring at him. "I know I've said it before, but I wanted to say it again. You've done so much for me when you didn't have to."

"You don't have to thank me, Buffy, but you're welcome," he reached out and touched her hand. "I'm glad I could help, even if just a little. I care about you."

Buffy blushed again, thankful that the dark night hid the reddish tint to her skin. It was just so strange having a guy – a guy like Angel – saying something like that to her. Before she'd lost most of her family, she'd spent three years being hated by almost everyone. There hadn't been many kind words to her after the rape.

She didn't want to think about that now. Not when the night was so beautiful and she was sitting here with Angel. There'd been too much time spent today thinking of all the ugly things in her life. Right now, she just wanted to forget about it all.

A song on the radio caught Buffy's attention and she smiled. "I love this song. I haven't heard it in so long."

The radio was turned fairly low so Angel strained to hear it. He immediately recognized the tune. It had been quite popular when it came out. "November Rain by Guns 'N Roses" Angel recited the song's name.

"Willow and I would listen to it over and over again when we were in junior high," she told him.

"I'll go turn it up a little." Angel stood and took a few quick steps to the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Reaching over toward the windowsill, he twisted the volume knob a few ticks, enough to make the music easier to hear, but not so much that it was loud. Once that was done, he returned to the deck and approached Buffy.

A contented smile greeted him, and Angel smiled in return. He loved seeing her during these rare unguarded moments. There was such a different aura to her then. An idea popped into Angel's head and he held out a hand to Buffy. "Would you like to dance?"

"D-dance?" Buffy sputtered, thrown completely off guard.

"Uh huh, dance," he repeated, keeping his hand held out.

"Why...why would you want to dance with me?" Dance with Angel? Such a perplexing idea! But she couldn't deny that it sounded nice.

"I can't imagine you got much of an opportunity to dance when you were younger," he said casually. Angel didn't want to frighten her by adding that he would enjoy the chance to hold her in his arms.

"No," Buffy's head dropped down. "I didn't even get to go to either of my proms."

"Proms are underrated, but we can dance here and pretend it's your senior prom," he suggested, taking a step closer. He'd do anything to help wipe away her bad memories.

"I don't know how to dance," she mumbled dejectedly.

"We're not going to dance fancy," he corrected. "Just let me lead. It'll be easy."

"O-okay." Buffy reached out and took Angel's hand, letting him tug her to her feet.

Leading her a few steps away from the bench, onto the middle of the deck, Angel stopped. Now, how to best approach this? For a moment, he doubted his sanity, but the feel of Buffy's trusting hand in his reminded him of why he wanted to dance with her. They weren't going to be doing formal dancing, so proper hand holds weren't necessary. Settling for the easiest method possible, Angel took the hand he held and raised it to his shoulder and then reached for the other and placed it on the opposite shoulder.

Buffy stood perfectly still, having no clue at all what she should do next. She'd danced before, many, many years ago when she was in junior high. That didn't exactly count. Back then, girls and boys were still trying to decide if the opposite sex had cooties. So she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She would trust in Angel's direction.

They stood still for several seconds, with only Buffy's hands loosely clasped on Angel's shoulders. Now that they'd gotten to this position, Angel couldn't decide where to put his own hands. Her hips seemed like a bad idea. He didn't want to frighten her. He decided on her waist and as gently as possible placed his hands, making sure not to grip her too tightly and to leave several inches between them. When she didn't flinch or pull away, he knew she was okay with what they were doing.

Thankfully, November Rain was a long song so by the time they found their comfort zone, it was still playing. Angel wasn't exactly the king of the dance floor. Okay, he didn't know how to dance at all. The few times he'd been goaded into dancing, he'd looked like a chicken with epilepsy. But he could handle this.

Unguided, their bodies began to sway to the rhythm of the song, matching each others' pace without even trying. If anyone had been watching them, their actions wouldn't exactly have been called dancing, but the simple movements suited both of them. Who needed fancy steps when you could be close to someone important to you the way they were?

The current song ended and Angel nearly wanted to shout 'no'. He didn't want this to end yet. He was enjoying it too much. To his relief, though, the next song began immediately and he was even happier to realize that it was equally appropriate for slow-dancing. He had always liked the song Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin.

Angel was just falling into the morose tune when he thought he heard what sounded like a sniffle. He pulled back slightly so he could see Buffy's face, illuminated only by the soft glow of the light coming from the kitchen. Horror dawned when he saw two lonely tears dangling from her eyelashes. What had he done?

"Buffy? What's wrong? Did I do something?" he asked anxiously.

She shook her head and whispered, "No. It's...it's just that Owen loved Zeppelin. The song reminded me."

"Damn," Angel muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry. Let me go change the station."

He started to turn but Buffy held onto his shoulders. "It's okay," she promised him. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"Are you sure?" he voiced his doubts.

Nodding, Buffy used one hand to swipe at the tears. "I-I just want to keep dancing."

Angel heard her sniffle again and did the only thing he could do, comforted her. His left hand slid lightly up her back until he reached the lower part of her head, while his right hand remained on her waist but moved farther around to her back. Pushing lightly, and taking the smallest step forward, their bodies touched. He expected her to pull away, but she offered no resistance to the move. To his surprise, she turned her head until her cheek rested over his heart.

A soft sigh slipped past her lips before Buffy could stop it. She'd had a small moment of panic when Angel moved closer, but it had eased away quickly. All she knew was that she felt protected in Angel's arms, like she was in a soft, strong cocoon where nothing could hurt her.

The sound of Angel's heartbeat echoed quietly in her ear and she closed her eyes, slipping into a point in time she never wanted to leave. Together they swayed gently back an forth, aware of nothing but the smooth strains of the old Zeppelin song and the warm kiss of the early summer air. It was the perfect moment, one neither of them would ever forget.

Despite his words of reassurance to Buffy the night before regarding the FBI's plan to gather evidence, that there was nothing to be concerned about, Angel was worried himself. With the way things had happened in this town before, who knew what could happen next? That's why he had planned to stay at home all day, to be there just in case. He hadn't wanted to take any chances that something might happen to Buffy.

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. Just before noon, Giles called to inform Angel that there was a work related emergency. Giles had tried to handle the problem himself, tried anything to get it fixed so that Angel wouldn't need to come in, but they required his expertise. So finally, Giles called Angel to discuss the problem, and Angel swiftly realized he would have to go in to the office. Which meant leaving Buffy alone. He didn't have a choice, though.

As he grabbed his soft, leather briefcase and prepared to leave, Angel repeated to himself that Buffy would be fine. There was no reason for anything to happen. No one except for himself, Giles, Willow, Spike, and Xander knew that Buffy was a live. And the FBI. So she would be safe at his house, where no one but those who knew the truth, would know about her existence. Even knowing that, Angel was still worried, and he continued worrying all the way to the magazine's office building.

A short while after arriving at work, Angel was sitting at his desk, taking a few minutes to go over his messages and emails that had come in during the last two days that he hadn't been in the office. He tried to focus on his job, but as he sat there at his desk, his mind drifted back to dancing with Buffy the night before. The pleasant thoughts caused a smile to break out on his face.

They had danced for four songs before being rudely interrupted by Shadow, who had decided to try out her climbing skills on the screen door that led from the kitchen to the back deck. Buffy had laughed hysterically at the sight of Shadow clinging to the metal screen, staring at them through owlish eyes. Just another precious moment to add to the memory of the night.

Peeking at his watch, Angel saw that he'd only been away from the house for a little less than half an hour. He hoped Buffy was okay. The sooner he dealt with the emergency, the sooner he could get back to her. Before he got down to business, though, he needed to make a phone call. Swiveling his chair, he kicked at his office door. It swung closed, but didn't latch shut.

Angel snatched the phone off the cradle and quickly dialed. A moment later, he heard Willow's cheery voice greet him.

"Hi Willow," he returned. "Is there any way you could go over and hang out with Buffy for a couple hours?"

When Willow asked why, he explained to her about what Gunn and the FBI team were doing today, and how it worried him that Buffy was at his house along. He'd hoped Willow would be able to go over there to ease his mind. To his dismay, and Willow's as well, she was tied up at work with a surprise visit from a health inspector. As she explained to Angel, they had periodic, surprise inspections to make sure they were following all the necessary health codes. She and Spike would be tied up until the woman left. Angel suggested Xander and was told by Willow that Xander was in LA for the day picking up supplies for the construction crew he was working on.

Dejected at not having found a solution, Angel thanked Willow anyway. She offered to call Buffy every half hour or so to ease both their concerns. Angel accepted and said goodbye. He clicked off his computer monitor before standing and walking to the door. Hopefully, he could get this problem worked out as soon as possible.

Somewhere in Sunnydale, a cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" a gruff voice answered, then listened idly.

"I remember the plan," the voice said, irritated.

"It'll be done as soon as possible," were the final words spoken into the cell phone.

Back at the beach house, Buffy decided that she would help Angel out by doing some cleaning. She pulled the vacuum cleaner out, intent on sweeping the carpets in the downstairs of the house. It was the least she could do for Angel after all he had done for her. And it would keep her occupied. She hoped. Her mind seemed to be swirling with all kinds of thoughts this afternoon.

Had Gunn already been to the police station? Had they gotten the files? She had no idea what time they'd planned to descend on Sunnydale. Just like she had no idea if she should be worried about what they were doing. Angel said everything would be fine. Cameron Walker's father, Mayor Wilkins and their cronies had no reason to believe she was really alive, and knew what they'd done, or suspected they'd done. So there was no reason for her to be worried about being home alone.

Knowing that and believing it were two different things, Buffy thought wryly. She'd nearly jumped out of her shoes ten minutes ago when Shadow had crept up on her and batted at her foot. The poor kitten must have thought she was insane for shrieking and grabbing the lamp off the end table simply because her foot had been tapped.

So she would vacuum and keep her mind busy. That idea didn't quite play out the way Buffy hoped because as she pushed the machine around the living room carpet, thoughts of Angel flickered to life. She sighed unconsciously at the memory of their dance on the deck only hours before. It had been wonderful, so innocent and perfect. Not once had it felt uncomfortable. Well, not really.

A pang of sadness hit Buffy. She'd missed so many things like that. When she should have been goofing off with her friends and going to school dances, she'd been hiding out in her home, kept there by the vengeful looks tossed her way by just about anyone because she'd accused the police chief's son of rape. Then when she should have been going to college, meeting people, and figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, she'd been secluded in the attic of her house, lost in the depression and grief of losing her family, and unknowingly an accused murderer who was believed to have committed suicide.

What a life. Or non-life.

Everything had been destroyed because of Cameron Walker, because of what he'd done to her, and because of the power his family and friends wielded. Where would she be now if she'd never encountered Cameron that day after school? What would she be doing?

Buffy allowed herself to dream for a moment, to fantasize about the life she'd lost.

Visions of a senior prom danced in her mind. Laughing with her friends at their high school graduation. A summer of freedom before hitting the books. Sharing an apartment with Willow as they attended Sunnydale University together. Papers and midterms. Study dates and parties. Deciding on a career path. And then finally graduating.

If her life had gone as it was supposed to, she would have graduated from college just a few months ago. What would she have majored in? Would she be taking a few months to enjoy life before settling down into a job? Would she have a boyfriend?

All valid questions, but none of them mattered. Her life hadn't gone that way. Cameron and the people of this town had seen to that. They'd killed every hope she'd ever had. Just as they'd surely killed her mother, brother and sister.

Anger seethed inside Buffy. An anger more intense than she'd ever felt before. They'd taken everything from her! She pushed the vacuum forcefully across the floor, slamming it into the base of the couch without even noticing. She hoped they paid for what they'd done! She hoped they rotted in jail for the rest of their lives, never again able to feel the very freedom they'd seized from her!

Over the loud churning of the vacuum and the roaring anger buzzing in her ears, Buffy never heard the phone ring or heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled slowly into the driveway.

Inside the internet cafe in town, Willow paced the floor of her office, chewing nervously on her lower lip. She had tried to call Buffy twice, and gotten the answering machine both times. Why wasn't Buffy answering? Had something happened?

No, Willow shook her head. She was being a worry-wort. Buffy was probably just in the shower or listening to loud music or somewhere in the house where she couldn't hear the phone ring. Yeah, it was one of things.

What if it wasn't? What should she do?

Willow looked to the phone, to her car keys, to the back door, and then to the inner window where she could see Spike talking to the health inspector. Why couldn't Buffy just have answered the phone?

Angel was standing at one of the counters inside the photography department when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocked and looked at the Caller ID. Willow. Angel's heart stuttered. Why was Willow calling him?

Turning away from one of the magazine's interns, his thumb hit the Talk button. "Willow? What's wrong?"

"Angel. It's probably nothing, but umm, I've tried to call Buffy twice in the last half hour and she hasn't answered either time," she relayed in a rushed voice.

"What?" he snapped, body going stiff.

"She's probably just busy, but I-"

"Thanks." Angel ended the call without another word, barked something to the intern and rushed out of the room.

Keys. He needed his car keys. Angel felt around in his pockets and sighed with relief that they were there. Now he wouldn't have to go all the way up to his office on the third floor when he was in the basement at the moment.

The elevator was on the fourth floor so Angel took the stairs, running up them two at a time and nearly bowling over a woman carrying a box full of mail. He didn't stop to apologize.

Something was wrong, he felt it in his gut. There were a million reasons for why Buffy might not have answered the phone when Willow called, but instinct told him it wasn't a good reason. He needed to get back to his house. Now.

He reached the first floor landing and opted to take the emergency exit that led directly outside instead of going through the building to the staff entrance. Giles would just have to deal with any problems that caused if there was some alarm that went off. Sure enough, an insanely loud buzzer sounded as soon as he pushed the door open. Whatever, he thought as he sprinted around the building to the parking lot and his car.

Within minutes, he was squealing out of the lot, foot stomped on the gas pedal. The drive normally took around ten minutes. He planned to make it in five. Or less. And damn any cops that dared to stop him.

Luck was with him as no cars, cops or otherwise, got in his way. He was a half mile from his house when, through the half open window to his left, an acrid smell reached his nose. Angel coughed and his brow furrowed. What the hell was that?

After another hundred feet, the dense forest that ran along the beach began to thin, and Angel had a more thorough view. What he saw made bile rise in his throat.

A plume of smoke was rising above the short trees just a little ways ahead. Near his house. From his house.

Shit! His house, with Buffy inside, was on fire!

TBC