That afternoon we all met up in the library once again. Giles and I had already been through a small mountain of books, looking for any sort of mention of Angel, all the while this uncomfortably familiar sensation pricking at my mind.

When the three children came in, they didn't say much to either of us. Buffy acted as though I wasn't there, Xander looked as though he wanted to say something, but kept looking at Buffy and changing his mind, but Willow gave my hand a sympathetic squeeze when I handed her a book.

That act was more consolation than any word could have been.

Everyone grabbed a book and settled down for the research session, which was interrupted half an hour later by Giles very loudly exclaiming: "Here's something, at last!"

Xander nearly dropped his book and I winced at the sudden interruption in the silence.

"Can you please warn us before you do that?" Xander said, pretty much vocalizing our collective request.

Giles ignored it, however.

"Nothing about Angel in the text," he explained, "but it suddenly occurred to me that it's been ages since I read the diaries of any of the Watchers before me."

"Do you keep a diary, Giles?" I asked. Giles flushed and stammered a bit.

"W-Well, yes," he said, "naturally, for future Watchers-" he trailed off and cleared his throat before adjusting his glasses.

"They're only to be published posthumously." He finished.

I laughed at that and gave him a playful nudge.

"They can't be that bad." I told him.

"It must have been so embarrassing when you thought he'd read your diary," Willow said to Buffy, speaking of Angel, "but then it turned out he hadn't, but then he felt the same way-" she broke off when she felt Xander glaring at her. The poor thing shrank down in her seat and blushed a little.

"I'm listening." She said weakly.

"Well," Giles began again, "there's mentioned some years ago in Ireland an Angelus: 'One with the angelic face'."

"They got that right." Buffy muttered.

I groaned and smacked my hand against my forehead. Of course. Of all vampires it had to be that one which I didn't recognize.

"What?" Buffy demanded.

I looked at her, feeling embarrassed and ashamed all over again.

"Some years ago," I began, "I decided I needed to investigate vampires a bit more thoroughly, and I spent the next century learning all I could about them, but what I learned disturbed and disgusted me enough to where I just…logged it away and covered it up. Those texts, they're dusty and faded in my memory, but Angel stirred some of those memories. His name did, at least. I knew it was familiar, but I couldn't remember from where until…" I looked at Giles.

"Angelus," I said, "his true name. The diaries make mention of the atrocities he committed, does it not?"

"Atrocities?" Buffy repeated, turning pale.

"Angelus was one of the most sadistic vampires I'd read of." I told her.

"So, Angel's been around for a while?" Willow asked.

"Not long for a vampire," Giles answered, "Two hundred and forty years or so."

Did I mention how old that sort of statement makes me feel?

"Two hundred and forty." Buffy chuckled, "Well, he said he was older."

"Thank God," I said dryly, "some honesty at last."

She shot me a look and I dropped my gaze.

"Point taken." I murmured. Giles, ever the mediator, came to the rescue yet again.

"Angelus," he continued, "leaves Ireland, wreaks havoc in Europe for several decades-"

"About the time I heard about him and became disheartened with my rather dark research." I interrupted. Willow looked at me quizzically.

"I'd hoped to find a…well, a more kind-hearted vampire." I explained. "I was getting lonely again. But, small wonder, there aren't any. The reports and stories I heard about Angelus had a large part in my remaining nearly a hermit for another century and a half."

I looked at Giles and smiled weakly.

"Apologies, sir," I said, "I interrupted you. Pray continue."

"Well, there's not much else to say," he answered, "about eighty years ago, a very peculiar thing happened. He comes to America, shuns other vampires, and lives alone. There's no record of him hunting here."

"So he is a good vampire!" Willow declared. "I mean, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being someone who's killing and maiming every night and one being someone who's…not?"

Giles adjusted his glasses again.

"Well, there's no record," he repeated, "but, vampires hunt and kill. It's what they do."

I frowned.

"Unless he discovered an alternate means, as I did." I suggested. "Keep in mind, my record's not exactly clean, either, Giles."

He hummed thoughtfully, but didn't answer.

"But you're only half," Xander insisted, "you have more control over…whatever it is that's in you."

"A demon." I provided.

"Right. Well, vampires don't, right?"

"He could've fed on me and he didn't." Buffy argued. That was still a point that rubbed me wrong. His behavior…I just couldn't understand it. Sure vampires had 'fallen in love' with humans before, but nearly every account I had ever read had ended with the vampire yielding to their bloodlust, or changing their love. Not to mention it was rare that vampires ever saw a human as anything but prey.

"Question:" Xander said, turning to Giles, "A hundred years or so before he came to our shores, what was he like then?"

"Well, like all of them." Giles answered. "A vicious, violent animal."

"Demon." I corrected. Giles raised an eyebrow at me.

"Animals only kill for food and self-preservation. They almost never have any enjoyment from it." I smirked. "Only humans and vampires hunt for sport, and enjoy the kill."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Hmmm," he said, "yes you…have a point. Well, he was a vicious, violent demon, then." He corrected. I nodded in approval, but stopped when I saw the stricken, sad look on Buffy's face. I'd forgotten she was in love with this monster.

I was surprised to think of him as such. After all, what was I?

'Look at the pot calling the kettle black.' I thought.

Our group didn't really get a chance to meet again until later that evening, and that was just to study with Willow and Buffy. I merely went for appearance's sake, and to look after Buffy. She was still distracted and listless.

Willow was trying to help her study, but it was plain Buffy's mind was elsewhere when she didn't offer an answer at the first question Willow asked of her.

"When did the Reconstruction begin?" she faltered at the question. "Uh, the Reconstruction began…after the Construction…which was shoddy, so they had to reconstruct?" she guessed. I groaned inwardly.

Rutherford Hayes would have been so upset with that answer.

"After the destruction of the Civil War." Willow corrected gently.

"Right. Civil War." She said, "During which Angel was already a hundred and change." She added to herself.

"If it makes you feel any better," I offered, "I was already five hundred years old."

It was a feeble comfort, but I tried.

"Actually, I was rather close with a young man during that time." I said, smiling at the memory.

"Ooo," Willow breathed, "a young man? As in…you know, a beau?"

I smirked and laughed a little.

"I-I suppose he would have been called such, yes. I suppose he was a beau, though I only ever treated him as a close friend."

Buffy snorted.

"Don't tell me you put him in the friend-zone?" she asked. I frowned in bewilderment, then understood.

"Oh," I said, "no, it wasn't like that. We didn't lead each other on. We were friendly, we admired each other…and that was that."

"You didn't want to date him?" Willow asked.

"The term was 'courting' back then, dear," I said with a smile, "and…I considered it. But, it would have been very impractical. For a number of reasons."

Willow nodded in understanding.

"Because of the whole half-vampire thing?" she asked.

"Yes," I said slowly, "that being the most obvious reason, but he had made it clear that when he married, he meant to have heirs soon after so he could carry on the family name. He was the only son of a rather wealthy merchant, so he had a great deal of pride."

"What was his name?" Buffy asked suddenly.

"Blake." I answered, "Arthur Blake. He knew me as Catherine Saunders."

"Wait," Willow said, frowning, "back up, you can't…you know, give heirs?"

I blinked at her.

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "Vampires can't reproduce that way, and I have no idea of my capabilities in that matter. But honestly, I didn't want to try and make heirs. I didn't like the concept, and I still don't."

"Really?" Willow asked in surprise.

"Really." I nodded.

"You mean you're six centuries old and you've never…you know…" Buffy nudged me.

I suddenly realized the conversation had taken a turn I was very uncomfortable with. It was too late to try and steer it away, however.

"No, I haven't. And I haven't the desire to." I answered, squirming.

"But, why?" Willow asked. She sounded…sad? Egad, what on earth were they so bewildered and sad about?

"Because I just don't." I answered with a shrug, "It's just the way I am. I don't question why you'd want to with…whomever. It's the way you are, and I'm the way I am. You might be interested in that sort of thing, but I'm not, and that's fine."

"So you're celibate?" Buffy asked.

"No," I answered, "I never chose to be this way. I just…am."

There was a silence as they mulled this over.

"I think I get it." Willow finally said. "You don't like physical intimacy, but you do like men?"

I nodded.

"Precisely, dear. I'm perfectly capable of loving someone, but I don't want to be intimate with anyone."

Buffy still looked confused but Willow smiled.

"I get it." She said, "You're asexual."

I lifted an eyebrow, thinking about it.

"You know," I said slowly, "I think I am."

I cleared my throat and looked at Buffy.

"Well, that's enough about that. We need to help you pass history, do we not?" I said. But to my surprise, I seemed to have sparked a different train of thought for my two young companions. That's the last time I try and liven up a conversation.

"When Angel kissed you," she said, addressing Buffy, "before he changed into…well, how was it?"

Buffy smiled softly.

"Unbelievable." She answered.

"It is kind of novel how he'll stay young and handsome forever," Willow said, "although, you'll still get wrinkly and die…" she frowned. "I'll be quiet now."

I frowned.

"Being permanently young and pretty isn't always a lark." I told her. "Arthur Blake has been dead a hundred and thirty-four years. The young, handsome, genteel man I knew and loved went off to war and never came back. What few friends I've made are long dead as well, some longer than four centuries. It's not an easy existence." I shrugged, "Not for all, anyway."

My thoughts started turning towards a certain young man I had known in England, back when the second World War had just begun…

But I couldn't think about that. Not right now. I was done with those thoughts for tonight, and besides-

I inhaled and stiffened.

There was that decayed, hungry smell again.

I turned with a growl, staring at a bookcase. There was something not right, here.

Buffy and Willow didn't seem to notice, however. They were too busy still discussing Angel and how Buffy was going to have to perform the inevitable.

I rose from my seat and stalked towards where the scent was coming from, feeling my muscles tighten with apprehension with every step I took.

Kin

'No kin of mine.'

Close, but moving away

I sped up, but when I reached the bookcase and peered behind it, there was nothing there, though the scent still lingered.

A vampire had been here, of that I was certain. Angel? Perhaps. I couldn't be sure.

I frowned and looked around a little more, but couldn't find anything disturbed, so I started back for the table.

I would tell Buffy before she went home. No, I'd do more than that, I'd walk her home as well. I'd make up for my blunder. Even if meant having to spend the night outside her window to make sure nothing got in.