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Angel smelled Buffy long before he saw her. That mix of girl sweat, the light floral perfume she favored and the magic that lived under her skin that made his hackles rise left no doubt that she was here.

"Were you going to tell me?" Her voice was flat and her arms were crossed awkwardly under her chest. Thirty-one weeks pregnant and she still wasn't accustomed to her new body.

"No," he said as he surveyed the bombed out rubble that used to be his office and home. "Didn't want you to worry."

She glared at him. "I tried to call you and I was told the number was disconnected. Then I dialed Cordy's cell and it just went to voicemail. That's when I knew something was wrong." She hesitated briefly. "They're OK? What happened?"

"Cordy and Wes are fine." He suspected that he wasn't able to completely hide the fact that they hadn't been so fine just a day ago. It appears I've made myself an enemy." He knew Buffy wasn't happy with that non-answer but he didn't want her getting mixed up in this. There wasn't much she could do in any case.

His brow furrowed as realization hit. "Why did you call me, Buffy? Is there a problem?" He began to be worried because her movements in the past five minutes had gotten more and more peculiar. She was performing an awkward dance now, hopping, rocking and shuffling her feet. He was wondering if she was possessed and how he could tackle her without hurting her and somehow get her to Wes' apartment

"Is there a coffee shop around here?" Her voice held a note of urgency. "Bladder baby bingo," she apologized. When Angel still didn't answer, she said a bit more forcefully, "Angel, if you don't find me a bathroom or a shrub, we're both going to be real sorry."

"Oh," he said, eyes opened wide. Not possessed, then. "There's a diner around the corner."

Ten minutes later the two of them were in a booth in the back of a small twenty-four hour restaurant. At that time of night, only a few cops and a worker going to a late shift were present. Buffy had her hands wrapped around a cup of espresso. Off of Angel's look, she gave him a return scowl. "Don't give me a Willow look of anything other than granola and organic figs are bad for the baby. I was just at the doctor and Junior's fine."

He nodded. "You're right. I'm sure you know what you're doing." He could see Buffy relax at that. He hated that things were so awkward between them. "So?"

"So, " she repeated, tension almost immediately overtaking her again. "Riley asked me to marry him."

Two hundred fifty years of learning how to keep his own emotions at bay served him well. Except for a muscle that jumped under his jaw, he gave no outward sign of being affected. "He's a good man. He loves you."

"I'm nineteen. I don't how to take care of a baby. I'm not a grown-up. I might have to drop out of college."

He could hear the underlying apology in her words. "It's going to work out. Your mom, your friends, Giles, they're all going to help."

She didn't look at him as she nodded.

"Thanks for coming to tell me, Buffy. I appreciate it." He waited a beat. "Are you ok getting back?"

"Slayer here. Not exactly worried about the boogey monster."

In the end, he insisted on paying for a cab back to the bus station. She didn't protest. He suspected that pregnancy made her more tired than she let on. He also knew that they both wanted to prolong the moment. Somehow, he didn't think that he would be invited to the wedding. He kissed her on the forehead right before she left and she gripped his arms a little too tightly. He didn't complain.

He flicked his thumb against the ring he still wore, a mirror to the one he had given her long ago. He looked at it and then pulled it off, slipping it into his coat pocket. It seemed foolish to proclaim that you belonged to someone when that someone was permanently out of reach.