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Chapter 7

With years practice of being stealth guy under his belt, the vampire managed to use it to his advantage as he quietly, yet frantically searched the small room. All the while Buffy lay there in her warm bed, oblivious to what was going on in any world other than the one of dreams she lost herself in day after day.

Nothing was left unturned. Which really wasn't much being that her room had so little furnishings to begin with. Other than the bed she slept on, Buffy's room only consisted of a chair by the door, and a small white cushioned bureau with three small draws, which upon opening Angel found to be empty. Well almost... There was something, a book, one that he remembered well.

But how could she have still retained the present that he'd given her on her eighteenth birthday? So many years had passed since then; even the books condition told him that. In fact one would suspect that it had been so much longer, like centuries since the day he'd handed it to her with the simple inscription of 'Always'

Opening the cover there it was, his own faded handwriting staring him back in the face, along with his phone number. That was another thing he hadn't thought to question until now. But the vampire couldn't understand how the slayer had come across it.

The pair had lost contact months before he'd moved into the apartment that he now referred to as hell, with Gunn. Almost all of his friends had passed on, and the ones that were left, wouldn't even think to give it to her... well all be it but Spike. But even that possibility seemed absurd. Why would the blonde vampire do something like that? It was after all clearly obvious that he wanted the slayer for himself. And then there was something else that struck Angel as odd, how was it that the book was still around? Could it be that she had somehow managed to spare it from the underworld as it sucked Sunnydale and all that was in it, whole?

But that was just another one of those questions that seemed to go unanswered, well hopefully not for too long; hopefully this photo would help him fill in the blanks. Maybe after today she would no longer be the traumatized girl he'd come across a week ago. Maybe she would no longer be the lost cause his friend had made her out to be.

If Angel had to admit it, it still bugged him that Lorne had suggested that she was just that. And that there was minimal chance, to none, of ever bringing her out. He knew himself that that wasn't the case; in fact it had been done before.

The things that he'd seen and had done to him in hell were enough to burn his soul from the inside out, and yet he'd found salvation. The only thing ever to ignite his soul again was his undying love for the slayer, a slayer that needed that same help from him.

That was what was important, that was all that mattered, and finding this photo really was his way of finding the road to recovery for his girl. With that in mind he carefully turned each worn page in search of an answer. Suddenly remembering what Margaret had told him upon his first visit to the institution, he quickly flipped to the back, anxious to see who it was that she had a picture of.

Unfortunately he'd hit another stumbling block, as there was nothing there.

Running his hand over the now closed book, Angel then placed it back in the bottom draw, wanting it out of sight, as it only seemed to bring back memories of happier times. Ones that seemed so out of reach now. Returning to his previous task he continued to search what was left of her room, hoping yet again to luck out and find something.

Whoever or whatever it was in that photo, the one that first Margaret and now Lorne had mentioned to him, was most likely the only way to get through to her. And that was the only explanation to the vampire's desperation.

As his dark eyes continued to scan the room it came to his attention that the only thing that was left was the bed. Turning back towards his love he was relieved to find her still so content in her dreams, as it would make it so much easier to continue his search.

But that relief was soon misplaced with panic as his dark eyes caught sight of her pale blue mattress.

It was stained with blood... her blood.

As he rushed to her side, Angel wondered how was it that he'd not seen it before, and more importantly why was it even there? It made no sense, what in the world was happening to her, why were her wrists seeping? It's not like she would have just inflicted the wounds upon herself, in fact when could she have done it considering he had been there with her the whole time?

As Buffy stirred, he swiped his thumb over the dark blood, smearing it away, only to reveal that there were no cuts. What the hell was this?

Remembering the dream he recalled she had in fact cut herself, and now as he looked back down, the blood slowly vanished before his very eyes.

Could it be that their shared dreams were having a conscious affect on them? And could that in turn mean that Buffy was slowly coming closer to the surface. The possibility of the girl he spoke to in dreams coming forth gave Angel new hope.

Noting that the slayer was now ok, he returned to his task. Now searching the mattress as much as he possibly could without disturbing her. Then Angel dropped to the floor to inspect under the bed as well. After all his efforts the end result wasn't what he'd hoped for. Aside from the book her room seemed completely bare, and the whereabouts of this much desired photo were left unknown.

"Angel." Buffy murmured in her sleep, turning herself to face him as though she knew without waking that he was right there by her side.

Pulling himself up to his knees, he smiled down at the blonde as he reached out and smoothed the few stray hairs away from her face. 'Beautiful' was the only thought that came to mind as he watched her immerse herself deeper and deeper in the bliss that her subconscious created. That was when Angel noticed it, the thin paper barely sticking out of her pillow case.

Eyeing the paper for a moment, it didn't take him long to realize that it was in fact the item he'd almost torn her room apart in search of. Reaching over, he grasped the desired photograph just as Buffy stirred.

"Baby." She whispered, a small yet incredible smile crossing her lips.

With his hand still on the piece of paper Angel returned her smile, a rush of pure love slamming at full speed through his blood at the sweet endearment. He waited then for her to settle once again, before he pulled the photograph out of its hiding place and into clear view.

Well his own view at least, the vampire wasn't too sure about letting the camera pick up on what it was the slayer had a picture of when she'd tried so desperately to hide it for all these months.

Turning it over, as he blocked the monitor with his back, Angel's eyes feel upon a color photo of a presumably three year old boy.


It was the first bar that his red eyes spotted and even if it did look like a bit of a dive Lorne instructed the cab driver to pull over, and within seconds he'd paid his fare and was rushing inside.

It seemed that by taking a step backwards into his past, and helping Angel with the slayer, it was taking its toll on the green demon, and it also seemed that sometimes old habits had a good chance of resurfacing. Maybe that was due to the fact that in the old days after he'd helped his friends win or lose whatever battle they'd been facing, he'd always celebrated with a few drinks (mainly sea breezes). And right now the idea of forgetting it all and drowning his sorrows appealed to him more than ever before.

Walking inside the dingy bar Lorne couldn't wait to down his first drink. Well that was at least until he came face to face with a rather nasty scene. A friend, one that he'd tried to forget all those years ago along with the others, sat at the bar with one hand secured on his beer bottle and the other holding his heavy head up.

At first he was thrown back, overtaken by the dark man's appearance, wondering why on earth Gunn had managed to let himself go and become the stereotypical bum that obviously spent all his time and money in places like this. But then again they had all seen and done things that would stay with them forever. And even though the green demon had killed a man in cold blood, and had that guilt creep inside and set up shop within his very soul, it was nothing compared to the guilt that his friend had to be living with.

Lorne knew that till this day Gunn had never gotten over his own part in Fred's death.

Fred. Now there was a woman that could brighten anyone's day with one of her sweet innocent smiles. A woman that had proved to them time and time again, just like Buffy had once done to Angel, that strength wasn't about size and muscle. Strength came from within, and it was something that Lorne and Gunn had both lost so long ago. And without it, it was only getting harder to retain the will to fight.

As an un-welcomed desire to burry himself deeper and deeper into his past claimed the demon, he gave in, and took the last few steps separating him from Gunn, settling himself on the bar stool beside him. Eyes straight ahead Lorne then asked the bar tender for his drink.


The resemblance was remarkable, instantly Angel knew that the young man in the photo was somehow tied to the slayer. Almost identical grey green eyes stared back at him, and that smile, he'd seen it countless times before... Could it be that the boy in the photo was her own, her son? Was it even possible? And if so then where on earth was the father? Unless that of course explained Spikes departure for England...

Shaking the thoughts away Angel couldn't bring himself to believe it. He was certain that Buffy had put an end to their sordid relationship at least a year prior to the last time he'd seen the slayer. He was almost certain that Buffy wouldn't have welcomed the blonde vampire back into her bed... almost.

No, no, he had to believe it. She wouldn't have. So if it was in fact true, and this little adorable boy was in fact her son, then where was the father and why had he abandoned her?

For that matter where was the young man? Had the father taken him and ran when Buffy had lost her grip on reality? An urge to kill whoever it was that had just taken the easy way out and left the blonde all on her own, was undeniable. If only he knew who and where.

Again that was if the child was her own. The thought of the slayer sharing a child with anyone other than himself tore at him, he'd always hoped that one day he'd get his almighty reward and they'd have a family of their own. But even back then when he'd lost himself in those fantasies, a part of him had known that it was damn near impossible. Even if he had wanted it more than anything else in the universe.

Unable to tear his eyes away from the picture, that unlike the book was in almost perfect condition, Angel failed to notice the slayer stir.


It didn't take Gunn too long to notice who it was that had welcomed themselves to the stool at the bar beside him. Nor did he seem to care. Maybe that was due to the fact that nothing aside from an empty bottle or for that matter wallet seemed to upset him anymore than his own guilt already had.

Maybe it was also due to the fact that like himself, Lorne felt there was no need for conversation. And so ordering himself another drink he sat there beside his old friend and continued to waste what was left of his worthless existence.

The green demon seemed just as happy to do the same.


Her body shifted slightly against the mattress, and her eyelids slowly fluttered open. A smile crossed her dry lips, and then within a second her memories rushed back to her.

The blood, the sheer pain of torture, flames, and the screaming. Would it never end? Charcoaled bones crunching beneath her feet, and her head spinning. She was too late. Her family, her world... gone.

The tears sprung forth almost instantly. She couldn't move, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. The pain as every other day was unbearable.

Searching, searching, only to find nothing but emptiness. Was her world always this dark, didn't she have someone; didn't she have more than this?

'Watch them die slayer!' The voice echoed from deep within her very soul, as a sob tore from her throat. She shot up off the bed only to come face to face with him.

He was there; he was going to save them all.

No, no, she shook her head in confusion. He wasn't. He was too late. Days, or maybe even years. She wasn't sure exactly, she just knew they were dead. All dead.

Her face contorted in pain, and her legs trembled, as though they were refusing to hold her up, and then she saw it. The only thing she had left, in his hands.

"NOOOOOOOO!" She screeched, so loud and piercing that the small window near the ceiling held a great possibility of shattering into tiny fragments from the high pitched wail alone.

With her eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness that surrounded her, she snatched the photo from Angel's hands, and pulled it tightly against her chest. Holding it as though it were a real baby in desperate need of comfort from its mother.

Tears poured down her cheeks furiously, as she whispered gibberish to the photo, soothing it as though it had been hurt. Turning she gently placed the picture on the bed and pulled up the sheets, covering it, trying to offer it warmth and protection. Then she turned on him...

At full speed the boney slayer charged at the vampire. Her fists cracking into his chest one after the other. "NOOOO, NOOOO, NOOO!" She continued to screech, over and over again. Her fists now pounding in unison against his muscular physique.

Angel wasn't sure how to react, he wanted to help her, to take a step forward instead of three back. But as it turned out, Lorne was wrong.

Finding the photo wasn't the way to help her; it was only to make him realize that in this case time couldn't and for that matter wouldn't heal all wounds. Instead, she would only get worse.