The Steps Saga

by a2zmom

AU after I Will Remember You. Navigating a relationship is harder than it looks.

4. Chapter 4 - Two Steps Back

"It's your birthday; time to get up!" Angel's cheerful voice was like a sonic boom, therefore Buffy did the only sensible thing and buried her head under the covers so that only the very top of her head was visible. Angel had started out life (okay, not life exactly) as someone who slept all day since the sun would literally burn him to nothing. She never would have guessed that once human he would turn into a happy early bird.

"Go 'way," she grunted, hoping he would take the hint.

"I made you breakfast," he sing-songed. Sadly Angel had no sense of pitch or rhythm so it sounded like a cat was being tortured. It was becoming obvious he was not going to leave her to her sleep. Also, she could smell pancakes and that did smell delicious. She pulled the blankets down a bit so that her eyes were visible.

"Breakfast in bed for the best girl in the world."

He was holding a wicker bed tray and as he set it down she could see a slight bit of hesitation. She quickly reassured him. "This looks amazing." It wasn't a lie. In one corner of the tray was a silver bud vase with a single red rose. Next to that were two small plates, one with pats of butter artfully arranged around the plate, the other with sliced strawberries in a spiral design. In the middle of the tray was a large plate with a huge stack of pancakes. A linen napkin with a fork and knife and a small pitcher with warm maple syrup was on the other side of the pancake plate. Finally, a floral china cup filled with tea completed the picture. It looked like something out of a Martha Stewart article. "You need to bring up silverware."

"There's a fork and knife right there," Angel said, pointing.

"It's not for me. I'm not capable of eating twenty pancakes by myself."

"I might have gone a little overboard." He left and came back carrying another tea cup, a napkin slung over his arm and a fork and knife inside his shirt pocket. Buffy put the majority of the pancakes into a separate pile and they both dug in.

"This is delicious. I forgive you for waking me up."

"So I should do this more often?" Angel asked innocently. Buffy simply gave him a death glare.

As soon as they finished, Angel grabbed the tray and carefully placed it on the floor next to the bed. "I have a half hour before I have to get to work." He grabbed Buffy's hand and tugged her out of bed. "I need to shower. And I've never done that with a beautiful nineteen-year-old."

Considering Angel's long and very checkered past, Buffy wasn't sure of the truth of that statement. But she liked the sentiment, so she kept mum.

Once under the spray, Angel backed Buffy against the wall, his large hands gripping her shoulders as his mouth bent to hers. The kiss was open-mouthed and languid and it seemed to Buffy like it would never end. When he finally pulled away, his mouth immediately descended to the scar on her shoulder that he had placed there and again the kiss was soft and sweet and endless. His hands had moved to her hips and the next kiss was to the underside of her right breast, giving it the same careful attention as the other. Her eyes were closed, all her senses attuned to the feel of his mouth on her skin. His next kiss was on the bottom slope of her belly, above her pubic bone. Heat was curling through her body.

He moved a bit up her body, his tongue swirling into her belly button, his mouth sucking on the skin around it. He pushed further up, his lips in the valley between her breasts, greedily nibbling the skin and the water that was there. Gentle licks up the column of her throat and then his mouth was on hers again, this time demanding, his mouth pressed hard against hers, his palms cradling her face, his arousal hard against her stomach.

"Be with me," he said, his lips barely removed from hers. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but love and want and devotion reflected in his. She shivered from the intensity. Nothing could ever come between them; their bond could never be broken. "Always," she answered.

His hands traveled down the sides of her body until finally, they cupped the globes of her ass. He lifted her easily as she tilted her pelvis, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck as he filled her. Slow movements at first just as his kisses had started out. With each passing moment, his body moved faster and she tightened around him as her name dropped from his mouth; a sacrament. Buffy's eyes were still open, locked on his and there was no past, no future just the holy infinity of now and just like two years ago, perfection born of complete trust and love. They both instinctively pushed their bodies together leaving no space between them as he gave and she took what he offered.

When they finally parted, they quickly washed up, the water already starting to run cold. As soon as they rinsed off, Angel turned off the water and handed them both towels. He was already smoothing various creams and gels into his hair all without the aid of a mirror. It was the same way he shaved, too many years of no reflection meant it was an ingrained habit.

Buffy was still toweling off while Angel was already dressed and heading out. He grabbed the breakfast tray from the floor to leave it downstairs. "Happy birthday, Buffy. I'm leaving work early, so I'll see you then."

Once dry, Buffy let the towel hit the floor and snuggled back under the blankets. She'd pick up the towel later because birthday or not, if Angel found it not hung up he'd complain. The man had a neat streak that drove her a bit crazy at times.

An hour later she woke up for good, stretching all her limbs, still sated. There were real advantages to having a boyfriend who likely could have written the Kama Sutra a century ago. Buffy quickly got dressed and hung her towel back up and then took off.

It was a pleasant seventy degrees out and as she headed into town, she passed by moms with strollers, senior citizens and a sprinkling of college students on winter break the same as she was. Sunnydale seemed like an average suburb, at the moment it was hard to believe that at night it was evil central. Once she hit the main business area, Buffy ducked into The Espresso Pump ordering two coffees to go, one no sugar, both with cream. A few minutes later, she ducked into another storefront. The bell over the door announced her arrival.

Looking a bit disheveled, her mom popped out of the back room. "Buffy. What a nice surprise."

"Here. Brought you something." Buffy handed over the coffee without sugar.

"I'm pretty sure the birthday girl is supposed to be getting, not giving," Joyce said with a wry smile.

"Maybe the birthday girl is hoping that giving will lead to getting, " Buffy said with an eyebrow waggle.

Joyce shook her head with a fond smile, then headed to the back and returned with a box wrapped in paper that had multi-colored balloons printed along with the words 'happy birthday'. Buffy opened the box and smiled in delight as it revealed a green mohair sweater that brought out the green in Buffy's eyes. "I saw you eyeing it at the mall when we were there a few weeks ago."

"I love it. Thanks," she said, leaning over to kiss her mom on the cheek.

"So how's the last year of being a teenager so far?"

"The gang put together a surprise party for me on Saturday. And this morning." She stopped short when she remembered she was talking to her mom.

"The morning was nice?" Joyce rescued her daughter from mentioning specifics.

"Morning. Nice. Yes," Buffy hurriedly agreed. "Will and I are going to do lunch and then later, Angel has some kind of outing planned."

"Sounds like an excellent birthday,"

"It may knock the My Little Pony themed one off the number one spot."

Joyce smiled at her daughter. "I haven't seen you this happy in a long while. I know I disapproved of your relationship with Angel when you started it up again, but I can't deny he's been good for you."

Buffy started to smile but it suddenly faltered. "Why did you and Dad split up?"

"Honey, you still don't think you had anything to do with that, do you?'

"No," Buffy said, stretching out the word. "Not usually, anyway."

"We just drifted apart. We wanted different things after a while, that's all." Joyce gave her daughter a searching look. "Are you and Angel having issues?"

"No," Buffy said vehemently. "One hundred percent issue free. It's just," and here Buffy pushed her hair back, gathering her thoughts, "I don't see a lot - or any - long term couple happiness. I know I'm being silly worrying about something that could be years down the line, but-"

"I get it," Joyce said softly, interrupting her. "No one can predict the future. But I would say you should always be honest. And don't assume what the other person is thinking. It may surprise you."

Buffy scrunched up her face, thinking about what Joyce had said and then nodded in agreement. "Thanks for the mom wisdom."

"Now, what classes have you decided on for next semester?"

"Will!" Buffy slid into the seat opposite Willow, the vinyl creaking under her. The hamburger joint was usually packed this time of day but due to winter break, the place was relatively empty.

"How's the birthday going?"

"Well, no loss of powers and Angel still has his soul, so big plus right there. I did almost kill Giles while he was in demon form the other day, but that wasn't specifically birthday-related. More like Hellmouth shenanigans."

Willow nodded sagely. "Angel do anything special?"

"He made me breakfast in bed." Buffy's grin was ear to ear. "And then…"

"Hot monkey sex?"

"Monkeys would be jealous."

Their waitress came over at that point, only a little older than them. Likely a college student trying to pay for tuition. "What'll you guys have?" she said. Her short dark hair hung forward, obscuring half her face and her tone was so bored that Buffy was actually impressed.

"Cheeseburger with grilled mushrooms and fries," said Buffy.

"Make it two," Willow added. As soon as the waitress walked away, Willow slid a small package across the table. "Happy birthday, Buffy."

"The party was more than enough," said Buffy with a smile. Opening the package revealed a slender gold chain and a green stone that dandled from it.

"Tara helped me cast a spell on the stone. I know you deal with a lot of stress, so I added a calming spell."

"It's beautiful." Buffy held it up, the thin chain catching the light. She undid the latch and refastened it around her neck. "How's it look?"

"Great. Take a look," Willow said, sliding a mirror out of her pocketbook.

Buffy preened as she checked herself out. "I love it. Thanks so much."

The waitress returned with their food and as they took their first bites, Buffy heard a voice behind her cheerfully yell, "Birthday Buffster!"

"Xander. I didn't expect you. Aren't you working today?"

"I am. Lunch break so I can't stay long," he explained as he slid in next to Willow.

"Want some fries?" Willow offered.

"Salty, greasy goodness? Don't mind if I do." Xander grabbed a large handful and shoved them all into his mouth at once causing Willow and Buffy to shudder, their expressions matching ones of horror.

"Somminforya," Xander mumbled around his still full mouth while pushing a badly wrapped long thin box toward Buffy.

Opening the box revealed five beautiful wooden stakes.

"Hand-carved maple," Xander said proudly. "That's a very hard wood so it should give you some extra umph."

"You two are the best friends a girl could have. Thanks so much."

Angel stood in the door of the mansion, not venturing inside, content for the moment to gaze at the current occupant of the room. Buffy was seated on the couch, bare feet tucked under her, a tendril of hair wrapped around a finger, fire roaring in the fireplace, engrossed in a book. Knowing her, it was probably a trashy romance. He kept still, a feeling of contentment spreading through him, making him feel almost giddy. Buffy leaned forward and placed the book upside down on the coffee table to keep her place (causing Angel to internally wince. That was not how one treated a book.) and turned toward him. "Are you planning on standing there forever?"

"Just enjoying the view," he said with a smile.

"Umm-hmm." Buffy's languid reply was followed by her stretching against the couch, lifting her arms over her head so that her breasts were pushed out.

Angel's lungs stopped working for a moment and then he was in front of her, hands on her shoulders, kissing her possessively. When they finally broke apart, Buffy smirked. "What happened to looking?"

"I remembered I was more of an action guy." He straightened up and headed into the kitchen. "Birthday surprise part two is coming up."

"Do I need to change?" She was currently wearing a blue sweater and black pants.

"You're fine, but I would have no objections to a skirt. I'm fond of your legs." Buffy rolled her eyes even though Angel couldn't see. He returned a few minutes later with a basket. "Out the back," he directed her.

They walked through the garden, the night blooming jasmine perfuming the air. "As soon as I have some time, I'm going to start weeding this. This could be a really beautiful spot," Angel mused. He shepherded them out the back onto a well-trodden dirt path as Buffy came to a sudden halt.

"This leads up the hill."

"Yes." Angel was a few feet ahead of her at this point.

"You tried to kill yourself there. Why would you think that I would want to go there?" Buffy's voice was distraught and she had stopped walking.

Angel immediately turned around and walked back so that he was in front of her, grasping one of her hands between his much larger ones. He waited until she was looking into his eyes and then spoke. "That's not where I tried to kill myself. That's where you reminded me that I needed to keep going, that I could be someone. That no matter what life throws at us we need to keep fighting for ourselves and for others." One of his hands lifted up and cupped her cheek. "That's not a place of despair. It's a place of renewal and strength and I can't think of a better place to celebrate you."

"I don't know what to say."

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "Wait here a minute. I'll let you know when you should come up."

The sun had already set so Buffy walked carefully up the path, avoiding rocks and debris when Angel called out to her. As she got to the top of the rise, her breath left her with a whoosh of amazement. There were at least one hundred candles lit, tea lights and pillars and votives and even a metal candelabra filled with burning tapers. It was as if the stars in the sky had fallen to the ground. Several thick blankets were laid out, far enough away from the various flames so that there was no real danger and the basket Angel had carried up was at the edge of one of them.

"I would have preferred if our first picnic had been in the daylight but maybe this is more appropriate."

"This is beautiful," she said, her voice hushed.

Angel pulled her down to a blanket and opened up the basket. "Chicken salad sandwiches, potato salad and pickles. Hope that sounds good."

"Sounds like the best picnic ever."

After they ate, Angel brought out a plate of homemade brownies for dessert. Buffy privately mused that having a loving, attentive boyfriend who was also a great cook was basically winning the romance lottery.

After they finished eating, Angel cleared the dirty dishes and put them into a bag he had brought. Sitting back on the blanket, Buffy snuggled back against him. Tilting her head, the back of her head resting on the top of Angel's breastbone, Buffy looked into Angel's upside-down face. "So when's your birthday? Need to know how long I have before I have to start preparing for the big bash."

Angel shrugged. "No idea."

"How could you not know?" Her expression was one of disbelief and shock. "You have that idiotic memory thing."

"Eidetic," he corrected. "Birthdays weren't a thing back then. They weren't celebrated. Your birth was written down in the family bible and that was it."

"No cake? No presents?"

"No," Angel said, laughing a little at the thought.

Buffy's eyebrows drew down as she pondered this revelation. Then she smiled. "November 25. That's your birthday."

A tiny smile lifted the corner of Angel's mouth as his arms tightened around Buffy's waist. "You're right, it is."

Buffy tilted her head a little more and Angel took that as an invitation to give her a lingering kiss. An upside-down kiss was a little unusual but Buffy felt strongly that there were no bad Angel kisses. She certainly hadn't found any so far. Once they broke apart, Buffy kept her head back. Pointing at two o'clock, she asked, "What constellation is that?"

"Orion's belt. See the three stars?" Feeling Buffy's hair shift against him as she nodded, he continued. "That's one of the things I miss. Electricity is great but you can't see the stars any more."

"Has that been hard for you? You've seen so many changes."

Buffy watched as Angel's expression grew solemn. Buffy could feel Angel's body tense slightly as he considered what she had said. One of the things she appreciated is he always took her questions seriously and always thought about his answers. "Not really," he finally said. "Even big changes don't happen overnight so you can get used to it. It's funny though," his voice soft. "Vampires don't really change. We may get used to new things in the world but our attitudes, that doesn't alter."

Buffy wanted to point out that he wasn't a vampire anymore, but she managed to keep quiet.

"Having a soul? That allows you to change, to grow as a person. Of course, it helps meeting someone like you." He had stretched out on the blanket during his last few words, pulling Buffy down with him. She was lying on top of him, her head tucked under his chin when he pulled her up so that her face was level with his. "So… ever fool around outside?"

Buffy grinned at him. "I used to date this weird guy who liked to get handsy in cemeteries."

"Sounds like a fetish."

"We never went all the way though."

"So I'll be the first then?" One of his hands was starting to slowly slide to where her pants zipper was. "Good to know." And then, both of them stopped talking for a while.

—-

Buffy was once again lying on top of Angel, her back to his front, his hands clasped on her stomach, both looking up at the night sky. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" His quiet voice rumbled through her.

"Yeah. All packed."

"I wish I could go with you."

"Well, I don't think your new job would be fond of you just disappearing. And since my dad doesn't even know about you, he definitely wouldn't appreciate you just showing up with me. Maybe spring break."

"Yeah, I know." His protracted sigh caused his body to shift underneath her.

"I'll be back Sunday. Before you know it."

Three and a half days. Angel suspected it would seem like three and a half years. "Kiss me," he suddenly demanded. Buffy turned in his arms, happy to comply.

—-

When they finally got back to the mansion, Angel told Buffy to wait in the living room as he dashed upstairs. He shyly handed her a loosely rolled-up piece of paper with a ribbon tied around it. The paper was heavier than she expected and when she pulled the ribbon, Buffy became speechless as she unfurled the paper. It contained a detailed pen and ink drawing of the landscape they had just been viewing - the whole of Sunnydale as seen from on high. "It's beautiful."

"I thought you might like a picture of the place you keep safe every day."

"I do. My mom can get it framed for us. This is really special so thanks."

—-

Angel picked his head up, lifting his upper body up off the bed enough to be able to see the alarm clock. Seven am. He didn't have to get up quite yet, but he decided he'd shower anyway. Carefully sliding out of bed so that he didn't wake up Buffy, he returned 10 minutes later, a bit of water still clinging. Currently curled up on her side, the blanket had moved so that it pooled around her hip. The tank top she had on had risen up, so that a bit of taut belly was now exposed. Leaning over, he kissed the corner of her mouth, causing Buffy to wrinkle her nose and mumble something. Smiling, Angel then lightly kissed her collarbone, which caused Buffy to shift a bit away from him. Fortunately, he was not easily deterred. He slowly pulled the blanket down so that she was exposed. Her tank had ridden up even more and on the bottom, she was wearing a pair of loose shorts.

Angel's hand ghosted over her bare leg, his touch so light he knew she wouldn't register it. He pushed two fingers in through the leg opening, questing until he reached his prize. Stroking firmly, he could feel the exact moment her body reacted, as her eyes snapped open.

"I was sleeping," Buffy mock pouted.

"And I was horny," he answered, already stripping her bare.

"Well, now that I've been rudely awakened…"

"Rudely?"

"All right, maybe not that rudely," Buffy admitted as she pulled Angel on top of her. They both fell silent as they sought the joy of connection with each other.

After, Buffy lay on Angel, her head right beneath his shoulder, hair fanned out on his chest. "You have to get going," she said.

"What time is your bus?"

"Ten thirty-seven."

"Want me to come back and drive you over?"

"I'll be fine." Her fingers traced a design on the back of his hand. "No need for you to disrupt your work day."

"I miss you already."

"What a schmoopy face. You better get dressed and get to work." Angel got out of bed so he could get ready but he hadn't been kidding. He did miss Buffy already.

—-

As he walked through the front door of the mansion that evening, his coat pocket made an odd chirping sound. He quickly realized it was his phone after taking it out and after staring at it for a bit, he remembered that noise meant a text message.

irunning out to dinner with my dad. miss you/i

There was no way he could text back, she had tried to show him once but it seemed to him he had to press five times for 'e' and seven times for 's' and the whole thing was just too confusing. Instead, he dialed her number and when it went to voicemail he let her know that he missed her and was glad she was having fun. He would have liked to hear Buffy's voice but he was happy that she was in LA and having a good time. When he had left for Los Angeles eight months ago, he had felt an almost physical ache at being apart from Buffy. But there was a small part of him that was relieved. Being close to her and not being able to have her had been driving him mad and he knew it was the same for Buffy. If he had stayed, it would have destroyed them both.

Now things were very different and in less than two months his life had changed in ways he never would have foreseen. He had spent years - decades truthfully - without speaking to another soul but knowing that he'd be without Buffy for a few days left him with an ache in his heart. Worse, a pessimistic part of him was convinced he'd never see her again. He could see Buffy standing in front of him, head tilted to the side, mischief in her eyes as she said, "Geez Angel, drama queen much?". Imaginary Buffy was right, he needed to get a grip.

He ate leftovers for dinner which he barely tasted and then left to patrol. He followed a much longer route than usual, hoping the extra walking and extra slaying would exhaust him enough that he would fall asleep immediately. It seemed to work, when he finally tumbled into bed past midnight, he fell asleep within minutes.

—-

He couldn't breathe. Bolting upright, Angel's chest felt as if a crushing weight was against it, causing a silent scream to be ripped from his throat as his hands uselessly clenched into fists. Slowly, he forced his mind to calm. He was in his bed alone, there was nothing else in the room or the mansion. He forced his breathing to slow and tried to recall the nightmare that had caused his panic attack but nothing surfaced. The urge to call Buffy was suddenly overwhelming, a primal need to hear her voice and know she was safe. He turned his head and saw the bedside clock read past three a.m. Pushing his hand through his hair, he sighed. She would rightly kill him if he woke her at this ungodly hour. After staring at the ceiling for half an hour, he got out of bed, searching for a book to read in the hopes he'd fall back asleep.

—-

"I would say you looked like something the cat dragged in but no self-respecting cat would have anything to do with you. What gives?"

Angel tried for a 'mind your own business' look but completely failed to intimidate the woman intent on a third degree. Melody was the receptionist-office manager-bookkeeper and all around girl Friday of the small ad agency he now worked for and could give Cordelia Chase a run for her money in lack of tact. And much like Cordelia, Melody was stunning. Tallish with a perfect hourglass figure, a heart-shaped face, big blue eyes with dark lashes and a waterfall of blonde hair.

"My girlfriend is away until Sunday."

Melody shook her head and laughed. "You really are a sad case."

When he had first started working there, she had spent the first three days aggressively flirting with him.

The general consensus was that he was clueless. He didn't bother correcting people's opinions. The simple fact was that you wouldn't live very long as a vampire if you couldn't read people and blend in. And he had lived a very long time. He knew how to be charming and witty and make small talk. But all of it had been done to reel people in so that he could hurt them. He didn't make nice with people because he couldn't separate it out from a century of murder.

His normal tactic was to play dumb and ignore. It usually worked. Unfortunately, it had only spurred Melody on to greater heights and on his fourth day of work he would have to have been brain-dead not to notice her intentions. On that morning she had gotten up from behind her desk and invaded his personal space as he walked into the office. Her smile reminded him of the one an Angork demon sported right before it tore off a large chunk of your flesh.

"Liam," she purred. "I know you could use a home-cooked meal. How about my place tonight at seven?"

Angel took a large step backwards before she could grab him. "That's very kind of you, Melody," he said, feeling very much like prey. "Unfortunately my girlfriend and I are going out tonight." Not a lie, since they'd be going out to kill things.

"You have a girlfriend?" Melody's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Yeah."

"How long have you been dating?"

Like most everything in Angel's life, that was a complicated answer. Those first few months he had been in Sunnydale, they had kissed a few times but they had not been dating by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Angel had been pretty adamant that their attraction to each other was a bad idea. And then Buffy had died and left for the summer and when she had come back, he had been reluctant, but they had finally started dating. Those days…except for the past few months, they had been the happiest of his long existence. And then he had ruined it all by wanting more, thinking he deserved more. He wasn't sure what the correct terminology was for wanting to torture your former girlfriend. And then when that was over and he came back from his vacation in hell, he wasn't sure they were actually dating. More like a horrible state of permanent longing on both their parts. Now they were dating and it was glorious but if Angel was honest, he was certain it wouldn't last. Because he didn't deserve any of this.

"This wasn't supposed to be a stumper."

Melody's voice pulled him out of his musings. "We started dating a little over two years ago." Technically true. It was his other defense mechanism. Tell the truth but nowhere near the whole truth and if people drew the wrong conclusions, that wasn't his fault, was it?

She had basically left him alone after that until a few days ago when she had finally met Buffy. Buffy had come into the office with a made-up story about their cat escaping. In reality, Giles had been turned into a demon. Once that had been taken care of, he had returned to work and Melody had once again pounced. "So that was your girlfriend."

Something in her tone caused alarm bells to go off. "Yes," he acknowledged.

"Isn't she a bit young for you?"

"We're very compatible," he snapped as he stomped into the back room where his desk was. He was tired of that particular comment. Looked at in one sense, everybody was too young for him. He had lived for almost 250 years as a vampire. Of course, very few people knew that fact. Most saw him as a twenty-six-year-old dating a nineteen-year-old. But his human past was just a hazy memory at this point. And even if it wasn't, being twenty-six in 1753 was a far cry from twenty-six in the year 2000. In terms of leading a regular human life there wasn't a single aspect that Buffy wasn't better equipped to handle. He often thought he was too young for iher/i.

—-

When Angel opened his eyes Saturday morning, he inwardly groaned. Friday had progressed much the way as Thursday had, complete with waking up in the middle of the night once again with an oppressive feeling of dread. Last night had been even worse because he wound up so drenched in sweat he had had to get up and shower and change the sheets at three in the morning. But at least most of those days had been taken up by his job. Today there was nothing else to occupy his mind except to wonder what Buffy was doing. He pushed himself off the couch with newfound resolve. He decided that he was going to cook a special homecoming dinner and attempt a chocolate cake. Which meant he had to get started on checking out recipes.

Angel was just putting the finishing touches on his grocery list when his phone rang. His phone had exactly five numbers programmed into it - Angel Investigations, his work number, Kate Lockley, Giles' and Buffy's cell and this was none of them. He briefly stared at his phone with a confused expression and then hit the talk button. "Hello?" he said cautiously.

"Angel," said the cheerful, bubbly voice. "It's Willow. How are you doing?"

"Willow?" Angel was genuinely surprised. He hadn't realized she had his number. Obviously Buffy had given it to her. "I'm fine."

"Well I figured with Buffy away, you could use some company tonight. So Xander, Anya and I are going to come over."

Angel was momentarily silent. He was touched that Willow had reached out to him. Up until now, he considered Willow Buffy's friend, but he now saw her as his friend also and was pleased at the realization. "Why don't you come at six thirty and I'll make dinner."

"We'll come at six thirty and we'll ibring/i dinner," Willow countered. "We'll see you later."

"All right," he said with a genuine smile in his voice. "See you later." He actually was looking forward to seeing them, even Xander. Buffy was rubbing off on him in terms of being more social. He stood up. He still had to go grocery shopping and when he returned, a bit of straightening up.

When six-thirty arrived, there was a loud knock at the door. Willow and Anya entered with Xander bringing up the rear, carrying three pizza boxes and another smaller box, balanced on top. Willow grabbed the non-pizza box and set it down in the living room. "For later," she explained.

As he went to get plates and glasses, Xander opened the pizza boxes. "Willow!" Xander exclaimed, a mix of horror and astonishment present. "There are vegetables on this pizza. Why are you trying to ruin a perfectly good pizza?"

"What's wrong with mushrooms, peppers and onions?" Angel asked, looking into the box.

"Too healthy. Now that's a pizza," Xander exclaimed as he opened the second box to reveal extra cheese, pepperoni and sausage. "I can feel my arteries struggling already."

Willow merely shook her head as she opened the last box to reveal a pineapple and ham combo. Just as everyone was reaching for a slice, Anya turned toward Angel. "I'm sorry that you're feeling sad since Buffy isn't here and you can't have sex."

Willow came close to spitting out her soda and turned beet red. Xander started to lunge toward his girlfriend when Angel inclined his head and smiled at Anya. "Thanks for your concern. I appreciate it." Anya beamed. "But it isn't just sex. If Xander disappeared, wouldn't you miss other things also?'

Anya screwed up her face, thinking hard. "I would miss Xander's smiles a lot."

"Same for me. Luckily, Buffy will be back tomorrow, so I don't have to miss her too much longer."

"And then you will have lots of sex."

Angel couldn't help his brief chuckle. "You're probably right."

After that, Angel asked Willow what she was taking next semester. She was planning on an introductory computer science course since she was thinking of making that her major. Also, a basic chemistry course as she felt it would help her in her continuing magical endeavors. Xander explained the construction project he was working on and Angel privately marveled that not only had Harris grown up quite a bit but he had found his place in the world.

As Willow helped Angel pack up the leftovers, she looked over to where Xander was sprawled out on one of the chairs, Anya cuddling next to him. "Xan, I can't believe you ate six slices."

"That's because he's quite manly," Anya replied smugly.

"I would have had more but with Buffy gone, I'm not that hungry," said Angel, feeling the need to defend himself.

"I don't know where either of you put it all."

"I'm engaged in a lot of physical activity," Xander explained as Anya leered.

"Please, say no more," Willow begged.

"I meant construction. I am shocked at your implication."

"But we do have a lot of demanding sex," Anya added.

"Thanks, Ahn, for confirming what Willow already implied," Xander said with a sigh. Angel tried and failed to bite back a smirk.

Willow, with a bit too much-forced cheer, said, "Game time! Everybody grab a seat."

"I don't like games," Angel said with a determined expression.

Willow simply crossed her arms and gave him one of her I-will-brook-no-argument looks. There was a big difference between her and Buffy. Buffy would have dropped the matter, but Willow was not so accommodating. "I bet you've never played a game in your entire existence, so how would you know?"

The problem was he had played plenty of games. There was the one where he removed small pieces of a person to see how long it would take them to die. There were the deviant, perverse games he and Darla had indulged in. And there was his favorite, the slow emotional torture of a person. He had perfected it with Dru but she hadn't been the first.

He no longer liked games. But looking at Willow, he knew he wouldn't have a choice so he meekly acquiesced. She had an iron will when it came down to it.

"The game is called Scattergories and…"

Xander interrupted with a perturbed expression. "This game is going to make me look dumb, isn't it?"

"Xander Harris!" Willow's hands were on her hips and her tone was outraged. "We've been friends since nursery school and you think I would do that?"

"No," he squeaked.

"Darn right. Anyone else have anything to say?" she asked, glaring at Anya.

"I'm good," Anya said, holding up her hands defensively.

"Great. We are going to play and have fun," Willow's voice daring anyone to disagree with her. Opening the box, she handed out cards to everyone. "Don't turn them over until I say start. There are twelve categories on the card." She took a large die out of the box and rolled it. "OK, the letter is 'L'". We are going to have two minutes to think of a word that starts with L that fits each of the categories. Let's say the category is things you find in a hardware store. Then your answer could be light bulbs. The first word has to start with the letter if your answer has more than one word. If the answer is someone's name, then either the first name, middle name or last name can start with the letter. If you are the only one with that answer you get a point. If someone else has the same answer, neither gets a point. And you can't use the same answer for two different categories. Questions?" Everyone was silent, so Willow started the timer and said "Go!".

Angel looked at the first category; iThings That Make You Smile/i and his heart sank. It wasn't Xander who would look like a fool, it would be him. Nothing made him smile. Well, that was no longer true though and just like that he had his answer. He relaxed as he began to fill in the other categories.

All too soon, Willow yelled time. Angel felt he had done pretty well. "First category is things that make you smile," Willow said. "My answer is life."

Xander grinned at his friend. "That is the most Willow answer ever. My answer is lunch."

"And that is a Xander answer, for sure," retorted Willow.

"Lips," stated Anya. Angel could see that Willow was about to say something but he watched as she obviously changed her mind.

"Your answer, Angel?" Willow asked.

"Loving Buffy," he said with a nod.

Willow gave him a big smile. "That is so sweet."

For the category iThings to Do On a Date/i, Anya passed her answer over to Xander who turned the color of a tomato. "Just give her the point, Will," he stuttered.

By the end of the round, Anya had come in first, having filled in every category with an answer that wasn't duplicated by anyone else. They played twice more using the same categories, but different letters. Anya came in first each time. "Next time we should play for money," she suggested happily.

Anya and Xander left shortly after that, and Willow stayed behind to help Angel clean up. "I still can't believe that Anya won every round," Willow said, still astonished.

"She's an out-of-the-box thinker." Angel decided to go for charitable.

"You mean that every answer was vaguely obscene except the ones that referenced some kind of long-ago vengeance."

"She seems to make Xander happy, so…"

"I really do not understand Xander's taste in women," Willow mumbled.

Angel smirked. Cordelia and Anya were quite the combo, he had to admit. "Thank you for tonight, Willow. When Buffy comes back maybe we could have a monthly game night."

"So I was right and you were wrong."

"Yeah, yeah. It was fun," Angel said with a defensive posture that was obviously in jest. "So Buffy told you I'd need some cheering up?"

"No." Willow frowned as she spoke. "She hasn't been able to spare a minute to give her best friend a call."

"Don't feel bad. She's only sent me one quick text each day. I'm glad that you and Xander and Anya came over. We've only been back together a couple of months and I already feel like I'm only half a person when she's not around."

Willow crossed over to Angel and gave him a quick hug which surprised him. "Lucky for you, she'll be back tomorrow and then you can be 100% Angel." She headed out the door and Angel was alone again but not nearly as lonely as he had been. Doyle had been his first friend in a very long time but he now saw that Willow and even Xander could also be his friends as well as Buffy's. He read for a bit and then headed up to bed.

—-

Struggling against the sheets, Angel panicked, thrashing until he woke up, his racing heart slowly settling. The dream had been so vivid. Buffy had been close and also far, dream logic making it seem possible. She had been hurt, bleeding from multiple wounds, black and blue blemishes covering her skin. He had yelled her name, but she couldn't hear him and the way she looked right past him, couldn't see him either. Taking deep, calming breaths only helped a little. Finally, he reached over and grabbed his phone. He just needed to hear her voice. The phone rang five times and then switched over to a message. "Hi. This is Buffy. I'm doing something fun so I can't talk to you right now, but I'll call you back." He stared stupidly at the phone for a moment, finally placing it back on the nightstand. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling, grateful that Buffy would be back tomorrow.

—-

Waking up at his normal 7:00 AM, Angel groaned, his head feeling too small for his brain. As his eyes slowly opened, his hands pushed against his forehead as he tried to cope with the first headache he'd experienced in over a quarter of a century. He assumed his head hurt due to lack of sleep, but fortunately that would be over, starting tonight. Buffy wouldn't be up for a few hours yet, but he was already anticipating her call letting him know what bus she'd be on.

After showering and dressing, Angel threw some laundry into the washer and tried to figure out whether he should bake the Welcome Home cake before or after Buffy arrived. He also changed the sheets on the bed since he was figuring the first order of business would be getting Buffy upstairs and out of her clothes. He supposed Anya was more correct than he had let on.

At eleven a.m., a ping sounded. It took Angel a moment to remember that was the tone that indicated a new text message and he eagerly checked his phone.

idiscovered a nest of taxors. will be home tomorrow. miss you/i

Angel stared at his phone and then abruptly grabbed his coat and left. Five minutes later, he was banging on Giles' front door.

"What ever…," but before Giles could finish, Angel had barged in.

"Buffy just sent me a text about going off to fight a bunch of Taxor demons. I've never heard of them and I'm worried." He paced as he spoke, clearly agitated.

"They're an obscure species," Giles allowed. "I've never encountered them, but have a seat and I'll see what information I have."

Instead of sitting, Angel stood behind Giles, looming over him as Giles pulled Schickler's Compendium from a shelf. Giles glared at Angel until he reluctantly sat down. Bringing the large tome over to his desk, Giles began methodically flipping pages. "Taxor, Taxor," he said under his breath, finally stopping. Bowing his head, he began to read the passage and Angel could tell the exact moment that worry set in.

"What is it?" Angel demanded.

"Taxors communicate telepathically. They attack in coordinated groups of twenty or more."

Angel stared at Giles, unable to think of anything rational besides Buffy not surviving this fight. He had no idea where she was or where the demons were located. There had to be something he could do. The phone was digging into his hand from gripping it too hard, so he tried to relax a tiny bit. Quickly pulling up the right screen, he tapped Buffy's cell number and waited impatiently as the phone rang. iHi. This is Buffy. I'm doing something fun so I can't talk to you right now, but I'll call you back./i. Angel stared at the phone in frustration.

"Buffy." Angel didn't attempt to keep the worry out of his voice. "Call me immediately. You can't take on those demons by yourself, there'll be too many. Call me and we'll come up with a plan." He hung up and set the phone on the coffee table. He stared at it, willing it to ring. Giles wasn't faring much better, judging by the vigorous glasses cleaning that was occurring.

Five minutes passed and Angel found himself unable to sit still another moment as he snatched the phone back up. Staring at the screen, he punched something and was gratified when the ringing came over loud and clear on the speaker. Giles looked over in puzzlement, but Angel gave a small head shake.

"Hello," a British voice announced. "You've reached Angel Inves…"

"Wesley?" Angel cut in.

"Yes?"

"Wesley, this is Angel. I'm here with Giles."

"Ah, Cordelia told me about your changed circumstances. How is Sunnydale?"

"Fine, mostly. Listen, we have an emergency. Buffy's in LA and stumbled on a nest of Taxors. No way she can fight them alone, so I need you to track her down."

"Taxors? That's impossible."

"Explain yourself, man," said Giles, clearly agitated.

"Taxors are native to the Brazilian rainforest. I did my third-year practicum on native South American demons. Received a commendation." Wesley sounded more than a little smug.

Angel's mind was racing. What Wesley was saying didn't make sense. "Maybe Buffy got the name wrong? What other species sound similar?"

"Nothing immediately comes to mind," admitted Wes. "Mr. Giles, can you think of anything?"

Angel stood up, dread settling. "Listen, why don't you both do some research? Giles, I'll be back in a bit. Thanks for the help, Wesley." Angel hung up the phone and headed for the door. "I'll be back soon," not wanting to answer questions until he had more of an answer.

He drove to the mansion, got what he needed, and headed back to the car, a chill settling throughout his body.

As he drove to his next stop, Angel forced himself to think about Buffy's text more rationally. She had never identified a demon in her life (other than vampires); she tended to be of the mindset "kill first, ask questions later". (Honestly, that strategy normally worked out fine). Pulling into the parking lot, he didn't immediately get out of the car.

Fifty dollars got him the information he needed. When he had walked into Willie's, Angel was a calm menace, an explosion riding just under the surface, his fear and worry pushed deep. Now however, he was a ticking time bomb. Minutes later, he was at his next destination, the sun still high in the sky.

Angel wrinkled his nose in disgust as he silently crept into Spike's current abode. The place smelled as if a frat party had been in progress for at least a week. His sense of smell was no longer vampire-sensitive, but he didn't need an enhanced nose to know that Spike smelled like a brewery. It made things easier as Spike didn't rouse himself until he was in the midst of cuffing Spike's final limb to the bed.

"Hey," Spike complained when he realized he was manacled to the bed. He experimentally pulled on the cuffs and then leered at Angel. "Thinking about Vienna?"

Angel simply crossed his arms over his chest. "I have a question for you. Answer it and I'll unlock the cuffs."

Spike thrusted his groin into the air. "Sure you don't want to try for a repeat of Vienna?"

Angel ignored Spike and instead asked, "Where's the entrance to the Initiative?"

"Didn't realize being made human impacted your memory. I already told you and the rest of the white hats, I don't remember."

Angel took a step closer until his face was directly over Spike's, but far enough away that a headbutt was impossible. "And you're forgetting that I've known you for twenty years. I know when you're lying. Actually, it's a pretty good bet that if you open your mouth, you're lying."

"And if I am, what are you gonna do about it?" asked Spike smugly. " Give me disapproving looks?"

Angel had an overwhelming urge to punch Spike in the mouth but he knew that would be a losing proposition. It wouldn't make Spike give up the information any faster. In fact, the opposite would likely be true. Spike welcomed violence whether he was giving it or receiving it. Maybe the enemy of my enemy route would work. "I think the Initiative has Buffy. So I need to know where the entrance is."

A smirk blossomed on Spike's face. "Maybe they put a chip in her so she can't hurt defenseless demons any more." His expression became a touch more thoughtful. "More likely they cut her open to see what makes her tick. They did that to a bunch of demons while I was there."

A roaring noise sounded in Angel's ears as his vision went white, drowning out the world. His fist drove straight into Spike's gut, no thought behind the gesture, just the sudden immediacy of movement. He noted in satisfaction the brief look of pain that crossed Spike's face. He was no longer a vampire, but he was big and he worked out, so he knew how to throw a punch for maximum effect. Spike's expression immediately settled into one of obstinacy. Angel was almost sorry he had punched Spike since he wouldn't be in the mood to share any intel. "I haven't forgotten anything," Angel informed Spike. "I remember Marcus, for instance."

"That wasn't anything personal," Spike said with as much of a shrug as he could manage. "Just business."

"That was 100% personal. We both know it. Farming out your torture though? Pathetic." He leaned in, placing the tip of his index finger right under Spike's bottom lip. Slowly moving it down, the finger moved over Spike's chin, over his Adam's apple, down the smooth column of his neck, over the black t-shirt and the midline of his body, past the end of his rib cage, stopping a little above the waistband of his black jeans. "You never did have any patience." It was stated as a fact. Angel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a leather roll with his other hand. The leather was obviously expensive and also obviously not new. "I remember everything," Angel repeated. "It makes me ill to think about the things I did."

Angel opened the leather carrying case, revealing a set of gleaming silver knives, each in its own compartment. "The demon makes you face your inner darkness. Those secret places you'd rather not know about." He pulled one of the knives out, and admired the way it fit his hand. "It makes me ill, except when it doesn't." He held Spike's gaze. "The way the blood blooms like flowers against the skin. The way their voice hitches as they beg. The beautiful art of pain."

Spike dropped his eyes. "Kill me and you'll never find out anything."

Angel laughed. "Do you know how Darla died?"

"Sure. Bitch got staked by the slayer. Everyone knows that."

"Not quite", said Angel. "I loved Darla for one hundred and fifty years. And for one hundred years after that, I wondered how I could make her want me again even though I knew I couldn't be what she wanted. And then I saw Buffy. I saw that even though her burden was impossible, she kept going. And I understood that I had never loved Darla, not really. It wasn't anything good that kept us together. When Darla threatened Buffy, I staked her. Just like that. For one hundred fifty years, she was my everything and I killed her without a second thought."

His finger was resting again on the bottom of Spike's abdomen. Angel pressed against it. "If you don't tell me what I need to know, I will take you apart piece by piece until you do. I wonder how long it takes a vampire's kidney to grow back? You don't exactly need it, but I imagine it would hurt like hell." He pulled up Spike's shirt and lightly traced a spot with his knife.

"Was just playin' with you, 'Gelus. No need to get testy." Angel pulled back slightly, his expression unreadable. "It's in Sunnydale Cemetery, all the way in the back on the left. There's a crypt there for the Miles family. 'Cept it's a fake."

Angel smiled slightly. "Miles is "soldier" in Latin. I believe you. But if it turns out you're lying, I will find you. No matter where you go." He walked over to Spike's small fridge and pulled out a blood bag, dropping it on his chest along with the handcuff keys.

"You said you were gonna unlock me."

Angel laughed. "Me threatening you doesn't count as you answering my question when asked. If you break one of your thumbs, you should be able to slip out of the cuffs. Or wait a few days and you'll be thin enough to get out." He carefully placed his knife back and closed the roll again. Spike started cursing him, but Angel really didn't care.

Once he was outside (and the fact that it was still light out seemed blasphemous) he made two phone calls. The first was to reassure, even though he felt far from reassured himself. The second was to ask for help. Then he walked to his car, drove to Sunnydale Cemetery, and waited.

In less than ten minutes, Willow was walking toward him. He was a bit surprised that Tara was with her, but he didn't have the time to wonder about it. "Where's Buffy?" Willow asked. "I figured she would have been back by now."

"I don't think she ever made it to LA."

"But where is she?" Tara looked just as worried as Willow.

"I think those demon-hunting soldiers kidnapped her. The entrance should be in there," Angel said, pointing to the crypt that Spike had described. "Come with me and help me figure out how to get in. Then I want the two of you to wait where you can't be seen. If I'm not back in thirty minutes, call Giles and devise a plan to save Buffy."

Willow looked shaken but before she could formulate a response, Angel was already striding away. A moment later, the three of them had entered into the Miles crypt. From the outside, it looked much like the others - a large marble structure with the name Miles chiseled on the outside. Inside, however, there were no coffins, just a huge metal ring inset into the floor. Placing both hands on the ring, part of the concrete floor gave way and steps leading down could be seen. "Close it back up after I go down," Angel instructed. "Remember, call Giles if more than thirty minutes pass."

The steps were narrow, lit with just a few electric sconces attached to the wall that cast as much shadow as light. When he reached the bottom, the landscape changed significantly. He was at the end of a large featureless hallway, brightly lit with fluorescent ceiling lights that gave everything a vague blueish cast. He had flattened himself against the wall, scanning the area for cameras. He didn't see any, but he assumed that it wouldn't be too long before he was spotted. He crept down the hall until it split into three passageways. He frowned briefly and decided to use the methodology of mapping a maze - always go to the right.

The corridor he was now heading down curved and then opened into a larger space. As Angel slowly followed around the bend, he came to a dead stop. Barely ten feet in front of him, his back to Angel, stood Riley Finn speaking into a walkie-talkie. Every muscle Angel possessed tensed as raw hatred burned through him. As soon as Riley stowed the handset, Angel launched himself bodily at the taller man, his left arm tight against Riley's windpipe, his right hand pulling Riley's revolver from its holster. "Don't yell or I will kill you," Angel hissed as he cocked the revolver and placed the barrel against Riley's forehead as he removed his arm from Riley's throat. "What did you do to Buffy?"

"Buffy Summers?" Riley's voice was remarkably steady. "From the psych class? Did something happen to her?"

Anyone else might have believed Riley, his posture and voice radiated sincerity, but Angel had studied people for a hundred and fifty years. The tells were slight, but they were there. "I know you're lying."

Riley's entire demeanor showed no fear. "You're not gonna hurt me." Obviously, he had no notion of what Angel was capable of. And at that moment he wanted Riley dead. As he held the gun a little tighter, he heard his name whispered urgently. Slanting his eyes to the side momentarily but not releasing his hold on the weapon, he was shocked to see Tara standing a few feet away from him.

"Angel, you can't," she said calmly.

"Buffy is here because of him." His voice shook the tiniest bit. His skin felt too tight. It was not just that Buffy was here, in this military hellhole, she was hurt, he knew it. She might even be…He refused to think the word. "He deserves it."

"If you kill him, you won't be able to help Buffy. There'll be a stain on your soul."

He didn't think one more stain would make any difference, but then he remembered that Tara had said his aura was pure white. He also remembered trying to turn Faith away from a dark path. In one fluid move, he switched his grip and hit Riley in the forehead with the butt of the gun. Hard enough to cause him to drop to the ground, but not hard enough to permanently damage him.

Tara nodded in support. It was then that he noticed she was carrying a large cloth bag which she was now rummaging through. "I have the ingredients for a locator spell. It'ill just take a few minutes to set up."

For the first time since the text about the Taxor had appeared on his phone, Angel felt the storm that had taken up residence in his body subside. "No need," he quietly told her. "I just have to center myself." He closed his eyes and let himself feel Buffy. It was faint, which was worrisome, but she was out there. "This way," he said, already moving silently down the hall. He didn't hesitate when the hallway split; something deep inside him knew which way Buffy was. Tara was close to jogging to keep with him, which was why she plowed into his back when he stopped dead. They both looked down the hallway they were now about to enter.

The hallway was lined on both sides with glass boxes that contained demons as far as Angel could see. Quite a few of them began snarling and pounding on the glass once they noticed Angel and Tara. But what rooted both of them to the spot was that most of the demons were disfigured. Angel noted a Milting which was a harmless vegetarian. The horns on its head had been shorn off, the wound not even scabbed over yet. A vampire roared at them in game face and Angel's stomach turned when he saw its fangs had been ripped out of its mouth. While he had no problem dusting vampires, torturing them seemed to him something else entirely. When he turned to look at Tara, she was obviously upset. "Let's go," he murmured, "I don't know how much time we have."

They hurried down the hall, passing at least fifty different cages, some filled with multiple demons. The very last cage on the right was much larger than the others, approximately 8 feet square. In the corner furthest away from them, Buffy was huddled into a tiny ball.

A tsunami of emotions crashed over Angel leaving him trembling. He didn't see any type of door so he prepared to pummel the glass until it broke when Tara's hand on his bicep stopped him. "The glass is shatterproof and soundproof." She peered at it, tilting her head as she frowned. "Also one way so she can't see us."

"What are we supposed to do?" Angel hated feeling this helpless.

"Hang on," she said as she rummaged through her bag. Carefully setting a candle on the floor, Tara sat cross-legged facing the cage, the now lit candle in front of her. Leaning forward, she rubbed something on the front glass while chanting. Angel's sole focus was on Buffy. Her hair was filthy and matted. Her shirt was so shredded that her back was mostly uncovered. He could see at least one gouge mark down one side of her spine and a rainbow of black and blue marks ranging from a sickly yellow to almost black. As Tara continued the spell, the glass began to become transparent and then literally disappeared.

Stepping into the cell now that there was no barrier, the combined odors of blood, sweat and human waste were so strong that Angel gagged, his eyes watering. In the same instant, Buffy sprang up, her expression completely feral as she launched herself toward him ready to attack. It all happened so fast Angel had no chance to move or protect himself. His single panicked thought was he was about to be seriously injured or worse since it appeared that Buffy had no idea who he was. And then she simply collapsed in front of him. He was so startled that a few seconds passed without him knowing what to do or what had happened when Tara's quiet voice brought him back to reality. "I cast a sleep spell," she explained. "She'll be out for at least four hours."

Angel immediately shrugged off his coat and carefully wrapped Buffy in it and then picked her up, cradling her in his arms. One eye was swollen shut and the cheek bone underneath was broken. He wanted nothing more than to teleport back to where he had left Riley and slowly murder him, his own soul be damned. "We need to move," he muttered. "I'm sure an alarm sounded once the cell was breached."

"Hang on." Tara painted her forehead with a poultice she removed from her bag. Angel could smell peppermint, lemon, newly mown grass and a general herby undertone. She then placed her hand on Angel's arm as she quickly cast a spell. It felt to Angel like he had stepped into a bathtub of warm, soothing water. "What is this?" he mumbled.

"As long as no one bumps into us or we don't make any loud noises, we'll be ignored." She was talking right into his ear, her voice more a breath than anything else. "It's as close as I can get to an invisibility spell. You need to be touching me so the spell will extend to you."

Angel nodded in understanding, then picked his head up concentrating. He tugged on Tara's sleeve and they both moved so that they were against the right wall of Buffy's prison. Almost immediately, six soldiers were looking at the now vanished front glass. "How's that possible," one asked, uneasiness in his voice. "Doesn't matter, she's not here. Let's go," said another. The six raced back down the hall, as Angel breathed a sigh of relief.

The two of them slowly went back down the hallway. Fortunately, the spell also worked on the demons they passed, so they were ignored. When they got to the end of the hallway, Angel poked his head out. Using hand signals, he indicated it was all clear as they flattened themselves against the wall, slowly retracing their steps.

They were heading down the third hall when Angel put his hand on Tara's waist, halting her progress. Five soldiers turned the corner and were heading toward them, loudly talking. "I'm shooting first, asking questions after." "Walsh said she needs her alive," one of them answered. "You see the way that thing fights? I'm not dying." Angel tried to press against the wall as much as possible, shifting Buffy so that he was holding her one-handed, flattening her body against the wall. The gun Angel had retrieved from Riley earlier was currently in the waistband of his pants, against the small of his back. With his free hand, he eased the gun out and pressed his arm hard against the wall, pointing the gun down the hall in the direction they had just come from. If they were discovered he would shoot to kill. Tara's eyes were turned toward him, obviously frightened. As the group of soldiers came closer, Angel held his breath, trying not to make any noise, silently praying that they would remain unseen. As the five walked down the hall, their eyes scanned the area and Angel could see that they were looking directly at Tara and him and yet they remained invisible. His muscles were so tense, he could feel his legs cramp but he didn't move until they were out of sight and an additional couple of minutes had passed. He shifted Buffy back into both his arms as his body relaxed in relief.

They continued down two more halls without incident but peering down the final hallway, Angel could see that the ladder leading out of the compound was guarded by two men. Moving back down the corridor they had just come from, he pressed his mouth against Tara's ear. "Can you carry Buffy? I'll attack while you get her out of here."

Tara shook her head. "Better idea," she whispered. She reached into the bag she was still carrying and pulled out a small vial. Walking to the opposite end of the hall, she poured the contents on the floor. "Be ready to run. Crepitus," her voice steady. The floor erupted with a small explosion as Tara rushed back to the middle of the hall where Angel was. Both of them stayed against the wall as the two soldiers ran past them to see what was happening. Tara and Angel then ran toward the exit, the continuing noise of the spell and the shouts of the guards masking their own movements. Angel went first, and even though he was carrying Buffy she weighed so little, he was able to get up to the top in no time. He carefully put her down, then reaching down, grabbed Tara by the arms and pretty much hauled her out. He blinked owlishly, the sun was halfway down and going from the bright fluorescent lighting of the compound to twilight meant he was blinded for a moment.

Pushing the cover back in place, and then lifting Buffy back into his arms, he and Tara quickly stepped out of the crypt. Willow immediately bounded over to them, leaving the copse of trees she had been hiding in. "I told Tara she wasn't supposed to follow you," her expression halfway between upset at being ignored and relieved that both of them were okay. "Oh no." Willow's face paled upon seeing Buffy. "Is she going to be all right?" her voice dropping to a pained whisper.

"Of course," Angel said with a confidence he didn't completely feel.

They moved as quickly as possible out of the cemetery as Angel led them to his car. As he walked abreast of his car, he stopped next to it suddenly faced with an unsolvable dilemma. He was almost positive that neither Willow nor Tara knew how to drive. And even if they did, he didn't trust them to drive his car. But if he drove, he wouldn't be able to watch over Buffy. He didn't think he was capable of letting go of her. He had just found her.

"Angel?"

He turned his head to see Tara watching him.

"I don't know what to do," he said, feeling incredibly stupid. He was normally decisive, and now it was as if his brain was malfunctioning.

"I get it. You're just worried. Let's buckle Buffy in the back and I'll sit with her. "

He exhaled, glad that someone else was taking charge for a moment. He carefully lifted Buffy into the back and strapped her in. She looked so tiny and frail. He bent down and gently kissed her forehead on an unbruised section of skin and then slid into the driver's seat.

The mood was, unsurprisingly, somber. As he drove back to the campus, he spared a glance toward Willow, who looked as shell-shocked as he felt. "Tara, can Willow stay with you for a few days? They know that Willow is friends with Buffy. I don't think The Initiative would try anything but I'd feel better if Willow stayed away from her dorm for a few days."

"Of course she can."

"I can't believe any of this," Willow said in a small, tired voice, as her head leaned against the car window. "Riley always seemed like a nice guy."

Angel first stopped near Willow's dorm so she could bring down a few things and then Tara directed him to where she lived. As the two girls got out of the car, he promised them he would keep them informed and would call later.

It only took a few minutes before he pulled up to the Summers' home. He closed his eyes briefly, dreading what was next. Opening the back door, he carefully gathered Buffy into his arms. Holding her one-handed, he knocked and was rewarded with Joyce's appearance a moment later.

Her hand gripped the door frame, her face drawn in fear as Joyce looked at her daughter. "What happened?"

"She never made it to LA. She was kidnapped by a group of demon-hunting soldiers."

"This was the work of humans?" Joyce said in horror as she stepped aside so Angel could enter. He carefully carried Buffy upstairs and gently laid her on her bed, removing the coat he had bundled her into as he did so.

Joyce gasped now that Buffy's wounds were evident. And then she straightened up, steel entering her voice. "I'm going to clean her up and bandage her cuts. Why don't you wait downstairs?"

Collapsing onto the couch, Angel hunched forward, his face covered by his hands. Even without enhanced hearing, he could hear Buffy's soft moans of pain and each one cut sharper than any dagger. He sat, recriminations running through his head over and over, each punishing thought louder than the one previous until it drowned out anything from the outside world. He didn't notice when the couch dipped with a sudden extra weight, causing him to violently flinch when a hand was suddenly on his arm.

Joyce sat next to him, her expression concerned, yet grateful. Bile coated his throat. Angel wasn't used to sharing his emotions with others. Even Buffy had to pry things from him. Partly it was that he had grown up in a time when feelings weren't discussed. Partly it was that after his soul was returned, there was no one he icould/i talk to. He had never learned how to share himself, so he tended not to. But seeing Joyce's expression, he couldn't not tell her the truth. He owed it to Buffy, he owed it to her mom.

"I failed her." The words were a harsh whisper, misery evident. "Buffy is up there because of me."

He expected Joyce's expression to change to one of anger. Instead, it got softer. "You saved her, Angel."

"Not soon enough. She was tortured for three days because I didn't rescue her fast enough."

"She was tortured for three days because a group of maniacs kidnapped her," Joyce said, the anger that was absent before now plainly evident. "How could you have known?"

"She texted me. She knows I have no idea how to text."

"And she never texts you?"

"She does sometimes," he reluctantly admitted. "I had nightmares."

"What were they about," Joyce asked softly.

"I didn't remember. Except for last night's. But I thought it was because I missed her so much." He couldn't help it, his voice cracked at the end. "I'm supposed to protect her."

"Oh, sweetheart. You can't always. No matter how much you want to."

"But Buffy's hurt." He was close to tears. He didn't know how it happened but he found himself leaning against Joyce, her hands sifting through his hair, murmuring soothing words. He hadn't been older than five when he used to lay his head on his mother's lap while she sang to him. He hadn't thought about that since he had been turned but suddenly, foolishly he wanted his mother.

"She's going to need you, Angel." Joyce's voice was quiet but there was a no-nonsense quality underneath. "She doesn't tell me everything but I know she's faced some tough fights and she's always won. For her to be captured and hurt by a bunch of humans is going to shake her confidence. You're going to have to help her."

He hadn't considered that but Joyce was right. "I will."

"Good. Now I'm going to heat up some soup for her and you're going to bring it upstairs, all right?"

"All right." He understood what Joyce was telling him. Whatever his own insecurities were regarding this had to be put aside.

"Did she eat?" Joyce asked, her voice a bit shaky when he finally returned.

"About half. She's asleep again." He doesn't add that Buffy was completely unresponsive when he fed her, Joyce had enough to deal with. "I'm going to head home for now." He didn't want to leave but there wasn't a choice. There was no place for him to sleep and none of his things were here. He also had phone calls to make and those were better done in private. "Willow will get her homework so Buffy doesn't fall behind."

When he returned home, the mansion had never seemed so lonely to him. Why had he thought Buffy would be happy living in such a dark and gloomy place? He forcibly pushed his thoughts aside, now was not the time. Instead, he sat, and brought up his list of saved phone numbers and dialed one.

He had called Giles immediately after rescuing Buffy, but the call had been terse at best. When he called this time, he told the other man in painstaking detail all that had transpired. After, there was silence until finally Giles haltingly asked after his slayer.

"Physically, they hurt her pretty badly. Emotionally…I don't know," Angel admitted.

"She's a strong girl," Giles stated and Angel wondered who he was trying to reassure.

He called Xander next and not even a minute passed before Xander's wounded pride surfaced. "Why didn't you let me know what was going on? I could have helped. Or was there a 'normal guy need not apply' rule?"

Angel inwardly sighed. He knew that a good part of Xander's pissyness was due to fear over Buffy so instead of responding in kind, he simply said, "You might recall that I'm also just a normal guy now."

"Oh…right."

"Xander, I didn't call you for backup because I figured the safest approach was just one person down there. Luckily, Tara, Willow's friend, didn't listen. Without the spells she cast, I wouldn't have made it out. Brute force turned out not to be that useful." He closed his eyes as he spoke, the nightmare of finding Buffy replaying once again. "You should head over to Buffy's mom's on Wednesday. Buffy should be ready for company by then."

They spoke a few more minutes and then Angel made his last phone call. "Hey, Willow." He listened as Willow spoke in a dizzying rush that lifted his spirits, however unintentional it was. "She's resting. I think she'll be more herself tomorrow." He fervently hoped so in any case. "Can you get Buffy's homework for her? Good." He asked Willow to thank Tara again for him before hanging up. Now that he was truly alone, he suspected that sleep would be a long time coming. He headed to bed hoping he was wrong.

—-

When Angel walked into the office the next morning, Melody narrowed her eyes as she slowly looked him up and down. "You look like crap, Liam. And I'm being charitable. What's the problem?"

Angel worked his jaw but no sound came out. Finally, he managed, "I'm resigning."

Melody's expression didn't change but one perfectly manicured fingernail tapped against the desk four times. "Wait here," she said, as she regally rose from behind the desk, opened the door that went into the main part of the office and closed it behind her.

She returned a few minutes later. "Steve wants to talk to you," her head tilted toward the door. Steve was the head of the agency having built the business from scratch. Angel hadn't interacted with him one-on-one very much. There had been the hiring interview, a few times when Steve had singled him out for praise but mostly Steve was in his office with the door closed, talking to clients and drumming up new leads.

Steve indicated a chair as Angel stepped through the door. In his early forties, he looked more perplexed than anything else. "Melody tells me you wish to resign."

"Yes, sir," Angel stared at his lap.

"Are you unhappy?"

Angel's head snapped up. "No, no, not at all. I love it here." Angel ran his hand through his hair. He had never been good at discussing personal stuff. "My girlfriend got seriously hurt and she has to come first. I know I don't have any vacation time yet and I don't think my absence would be fair to the rest of the team."

"Hmmm." Steve steepled his fingers under his chin. "Your girlfriend? She's the blonde in the photos you have pinned up?"

"Yeah." A flicker of a smile graced Angel's face as he remembered taking the photo as Buffy laughed in the sunlight. His expression darkened almost instantly.

"I'm going to tell you a story," Steve said. "A little over two years ago, I had a late afternoon client call that ran over. And then there were some budget numbers that I wanted to go over. I like to eat dinner with the wife and kids every night, but that day time got away from me. By the time I packed up and left, it was dark outside."

"I think you can see where this is going," he added.

Angel nodded, now staring at Steve. "I'd hate to lose you, Liam. You're not only a talented illustrator, but your ideas are fresh. Somehow you aren't influenced by current pop culture."

Angel managed not to react. There was a good reason he wasn't influenced by current culture, he had kept to himself mostly for the past century. But that wasn't easily explained.

"I assume your girl is hurt because of what she does?"

Angel slowly nodded.

"So here's what we'll do. Until she's on her feet again, you'll work from home. You may need to come in once or twice this week for a few hours, would that be all right?"

Angel stared at the other man, hardly believing what he was saying. "This could happen again," he finally mumbled.

"And if it does, we deal with it then. Life isn't a straight line."

"I may not be able to meet all my deadlines."

"Let me worry about that. Let's look at your current assignments so we can figure out what the highest priorities are."

When Angel left a few minutes later, he was still stunned. He could take care of Buffy and keep his job. Maybe the world was giving him a sign and Buffy would be a lot better today.

—-

"Why don't you take this up to Buffy? It's one of her favorite dishes." Joyce handed the tray to Angel and he carefully carried it upstairs. Opening the bedroom door, Buffy was sitting up, her expression vacant and unfocused.

"It's me. I brought you lunch." At the sound of Angel's voice, Buffy startled, as she tried to get further away from him by pushing against the headboard. "It's Angel," but it made no difference. He could see the fear in her eyes. He put the tray on her dresser. "I'm going to leave now. It's going to be ok." As he went back down, he willed his expression to not betray his inner turmoil.

"How is Buffy doing?" It was obvious that Joyce was surprised that he hadn't stayed upstairs.

"She's tired," he lied. "I'll go back up after she naps." He tried to work but found it impossible. After an hour had passed, he stood. "I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back," he told Joyce.

Fifteen minutes later he was striding across the college campus, his head swiveling as he searched among the students. "Willow," he called out once he spotted her, his long legs quickly bringing him next to her.

"How is she?" Willow demanded as soon as he was close enough to hear.

"Physically better, but everything else…" Angel allowed all his worry to surface for the first time since he had arrived at the Summers' home earlier that day.

Willow reached over and grabbed his hand between hers. "It will work out. She's Buffy."

He sincerely hoped so. "Were you all right staying with Tara?'

Willow smiled. "We did a few spells together." Angel could see the very faint blush on Willow's cheeks. He had known immediately that Tara was interested in Willow, and it looked like Willow might feel the same way.

"Glad you two had fun together," he said, not wanting to embarrass Willow. "I'm going to come to psych class with you."

Willow's eyes widened. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm just a regular guy now," said Angel, trying his best to look innocent. "No need to worry." It took him a few minutes but he finally convinced Willow that it would be best if she sat in her usual seat up front and acted as if nothing was wrong. Angel sat in the very last row, all the way in the corner, hunched down.

As soon as the class ended, Angel headed down the stairs toward the front. Halfway down, he called out, "Finn."

Riley looked up from the table where he was currently packing up books and papers, obviously surprised, although he hid it quickly.

"Finn," Angel said again, once he was on the lecture stage, a few feet from Riley. "Buffy's sick so she's going to be out for a few days. I'd like to pick up the homework for her." His tone and demeanor were completely casual.

Riley looked up, his face neutral. "Unfortunately, I don't have that handy. Can I give it to you tomorrow?"

"Willow will pick it up, thanks."

Riley nodded and turned to go, when Angel put a hand lightly on his shoulder, instantly removing it. "You don't know Buffy so I thought I'd tell you about her." Angel had lost all of his initial slouch, his shoulders set. His arms hung loosely at his sides but there was a tension there if you know what to look for. "Buffy's been saving the world every night since she was fifteen. Keeping the world safe. She's sacrificed more than you can imagine." His voice was soft enough that Riley had to lean in a little to hear it. "She actually died once but fortunately a friend was able to revive her. She's smarter than she gives herself credit for. She loves fiercely and her compassion knows no bounds. She's the best person I'll ever know."

Angel's voice became a little louder, a little angrier. "You and your tin soldier friends kidnapped her. You locked her in a cage. You hurt her." He took a step so that he was in Riley's personal space. "You tortured her." Angel thought he saw a look of shame slide across Riley's face but he didn't much care either way.

"Let me make things clear to you, Finn. I am not a good person." He caught Riley's eyes with his own. Angel had never seen the expression that now graced his own face but he could imagine. Eyes that looked like emotionless black chips of ice. A sneer that spoke only of cruelty. "What you did to Buffy was amateur night. If you or any of your friends ever go near her again, I will make you wish you'd never been born. I won't kill you but by the end, you'll be begging for death." Fear flickered in Riley's eyes.

"What are you?" Riley's voice was hoarse.

Angel tilted his head to the side, his mouth relaxing to neutral, his eyes sparking with life again. He looked like what he actually wasn't - a twenty-six-year-old male with a normal, boring life talking to a college TA. "Someone who loves Buffy more than you could ever fathom." He turned and left by the side door.

As he headed back to Buffy's house, he was relieved that at least Riley and company would no longer be after her. And if they did try anything, anything at all, he would have no problem making good on his threat.

Back upstairs, Angel was happy to see that Buffy's expression was no longer distant. "Angel," she said quietly.

"Is it ok if I sit next to you?"

Her shoulder lifted almost imperceptibly and then fell back down. Angel settled on the bed, not quite touching but close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin. They stayed like that, neither speaking until he left to go back to the mansion to sleep.

On Wednesday, Willow and Xander came over. Angel could hear them talking quietly to Buffy. He took the opportunity to head into the office for a few hours and managed to get an initial mock-up done for a new campaign. Once he returned to the house, he went upstairs and just like the last two days, sat next to Buffy, hoping that just sitting next to her was helping. Although he had tried a couple of times, she absolutely refused to speak about her ordeal and he decided not to push it.

Once back at the mansion, he tried to force down some dinner. Intellectually he knew that not keeping up his own strength was not going to help Buffy, but food had lost its appeal. He was just getting ready for bed, patrol having been completed when there was a pounding at the front door.

"Spike?"

The vampire rushed in. "You have to help me," Spike demanded.

Angel raised an eyebrow but kept silent.

"Those soldier boys shot me with something. I could be dying."

"You're already dead," Angel drawled.

"Plonker."

"That's right. Call me names. That's really going to convince me to help you."

"Not my fault," Spike rambled. "Whatever they shot me with isn't allowing me to think straight."

"You've never thought straight in your life."

"So says the man with a shelf full of poofy hair products."

"And again with the insults."

"We're family, mate." Suddenly there was an edge of desperation in Spike's voice. "And I helped you save Buffy."

"Because I threatened you."

"I could have lied about where she was."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Get on the couch." As Angel went upstairs to get what he needed, he didn't bother telling Spike that his so-called help in finding Buffy wasn't what changed his mind. Part of it was the family thing. As much as Angel didn't like to admit it, Spike was family in a weird way and Angel did feel sort of responsible for him. But the real reason was Spike was a soulless demon. He had committed countless murders, tortured Angel, had tried to kill Buffy but in the end, Angel didn't blame him. It was the nature of the beast. The Initiative, on the other hand? What was their excuse? They had also tortured Buffy and would have killed her if he hadn't rescued her. If he had to choose between Spike and them, he was choosing Spike.

He came down a moment later, carrying several towels and a few small knives. "Get up so I can spread out the towels."

"Seriously?" said Spike.

"I do not want you bleeding on my furniture."

"You are such…"

"Say anything and I will toss you out." Spike wisely shut his mouth.

"Turn over." Angel looked at Spike's back. He prodded the area a bit causing Spike to curse. "Not a bullet. It's some kind of dart and it's blinking." He thought about it. "Maybe some kind of tracker?" Which meant he had to get it out immediately. He did not want a group of soldiers showing up at his front door. "This might hurt." Before Spike could say or do anything, he carefully plunged one of his knives into Spike's back.

It had been a long time since he had cut into a body but Angel hadn't forgotten any of it. He could hear Spike trying to stifle a scream; Spike growled instead. "Don't move. Unless you want me to cut a nerve and paralyze you." He expertly made another incision and yanked out the dart. "It's out."

Spike moaned, half in relief, half in pain. "I'm knackered," he said, as he got more comfortable on the couch.

"Don't even think about it. Get out of my house or I will stake you."

"But I just had surgery. I need to heal," Spike whined.

"Go back to your crypt and have a bag of blood. Out." He half picked up Spike and shoved him out the door and then picked up the still-blinking tracker. Getting into his car, he drove to the docks, got out and tossed it into the bay. "Good luck finding it now," Angel said with a smirk

—-

By Friday, Buffy's physical wounds were healed and she went back to the mansion with Angel. He prepared a special homecoming dinner and watched with silent, worried eyes as she pushed the food around the plate and barely ate. She had yet to gain any of the weight she had lost during her ordeal and he thought that maybe she had lost a little more. They ate in silence. Angel had never been great at initiating conversation and Buffy kept her eyes downcast, simply staring at her plate.

Once done, Buffy shot up from her seat and announced, "Time to patrol.". Angel wanted to protest but at the same time, maybe a semblance of normality would be good for her. (The fact that staking vampires was her normal was an irony not lost on Angel).

She killed with grim efficiency, no puns, no banter, and no glances spared for him. At one point, he reached out and touched her arm to alert her to a vampire on her left and she violently flinched away from him. Angel tried to tell himself, she didn't realize it was him but he didn't truly believe that.

That night, when they got ready for bed, Buffy wore a nightgown that covered her completely and she scooted to the edge of the bed, back turned toward him. Angel decided that she was still recovering from her ordeal and simply needed time.

On Tuesday, Angel went back to the office. When he returned that evening there was no greeting from Buffy and just like every other day, they ate in silence, patrolled and went to bed with no touching. Part of Angel wished he was still in LA, having never been made human. His heart was slowly crumbling. The next day he called her from work but she didn't pick up. He left her a message that there were leftovers in the fridge for her to eat because he'd be working late. She was already gone when he arrived and he had no idea if she had actually eaten because he had no appetite himself. Angel climbed into bed before she returned from patrol and pretended to be asleep when she returned.

By Friday, Angel was sliding into depression. Buffy was subdued around Willow and Xander but she did talk to them. He understood that this was his fault and he couldn't ignore the issue any more. "Buffy?" Her name felt thick and foreign on his tongue. "Buffy," he repeated although she had yet to look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have saved you sooner. I know they hurt you, I shouldn't have ignored the signs."

Before he could say anything else, Buffy picked her head up. For the first time in almost two weeks, she actually looked at Angel. "There isn't anything for you to be sorry about. You saved me. If you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened."

He didn't understand. "Then what did I do?" his voice cracking. "Whatever it was, I'll fix it."

Buffy's gaze dropped to the ground, one hand twisting her hair. "It's not you." Her voice was thready. "I'm a demon. You shouldn't be with me."

Angel almost laughed with relief. And then anger surged through him. His first thought was to go back to the cemetery, to the underground bunker where she was held and kill every single person he found for making her think this. He gave into neither emotion. Instead, he simply said, "You're not."

"That's why they took me. Because I'm not human." Her voice rose in anguish. "Humans don't heal the way I do. Humans can't run the way I do. Humans don't have strength like I have. Humans can't fight the way I fight." She twisted the cuff of her shirt, her hands clenching and unclenching. "I'm a good demon but I'm still a demon."

"You're not a demon," Angel repeated, slowly, carefully. "Are we in agreement that I was a demon?" Buffy shrugged and Angel knew he was going to have to tell her things he would have preferred to keep silent about. "What happens when a vampire bites you?"

"They drink your blood," her tone making it clear she was confused by the sudden change in conversation.

"What else?"

"What else is there?"

"Vampires can taste emotion. Fear, hate, anger. Those sweeten the blood, make it so much better. They can tell a lot about the victim. Age, sex, sick or healthy. When I bit you." His face was suffused with shame. He would never forgive himself for that transgression. "When I bit you," he repeated, "I tasted love. So much love. And I tasted power. And old, old magic. But I didn't taste demon because you aren't one."

"Then where does my slayerness come from?"

"Maybe the first slayer did have some demon in her. I don't know. I just know that now, it's just magic. Like Tara."

"Tara? Willow's friend? What does she have to do with it.?"

"Tara is a natural-born witch, She has magic running through her veins, same as you."

"I'm just human?"

"If you weren't, it wouldn't make a difference to me. But you are." Scooping her up, he carefully carried her over to the bed where he laid her down in the center. Crawling over her body, he undressed her, his eyes darkening as he did so. Buffy was about to speak, but he shook his head and walked over to the dresser. Grabbing a small bottle, he sat on the side of the bed and poured a small amount of liquid into his hands. He vigorously rubbed his palms together and then turned back to Buffy, sitting on his knees.

He swiped two fingers against her forehead, the sweet floral scent of lavender filling the air. "People look at you and see a small blonde girl who cracks silly jokes. They always underestimate you. They don't see how smart you are. That you always see another way, the unexpected way and that's why you win."

Angel's index finger glided down her nose, encasing it in more of the oil as Buffy wrinkled it. "You have a little bump on the end of your nose. A lot of people would say that it detracts from your looks. But for me, it enhances them. It reminds me that you aren't perfect and I shouldn't put you on a pedestal. None of us are infallible and I need to remember that. If you need it, I'll be your rock. Always."

"Your mouth," Angel said as he used his index finger again to swipe across her lips. "I love your mouth. I love how you make fun of demons, it takes away their power. I love it when you kiss me; sometimes I think I could just live on your kisses. But most of all, I love it when you say my name. I was nobody until you did. You believed in me and no one else ever had."

He turned away from her and re-grabbed the bottle of oil. Shifting back, he carefully poured a bit directly on her chest, and then covered each breast with one of his large hands. "I'm a guy," he said. "A selfish asshole of a guy." He could see a protest forming on her face, so he held up a finger to his lips and then replaced his hand on her chest. His fingers were skimming over the smooth oil-slicked flesh, tight little circles around her nipples. "I'm too old for you, I'm emotionally constipated, pretty much a loner and I don't talk much." Buffy was writhing under him, wantonly rubbing her breasts against his greasy hands. "But I can do this," he said, his voice quieter than it had been as he pinched and then rolled her nipples. She arched under him, crying out. "I can make your body sing. And I know you think that isn't selfish but of course it is. Because my hope, my plan is that you'll never look elsewhere and realize there are so many men better than me."

Standing up, Angel walked to the end of the bed and sat on the floor. He picked up one of her feet and let it rest in the palm of his hand. With his other hand, he began massaging her foot, rubbing oil into her arch, her toes, the sole. "I love those ridiculous shoes you wear, those stylish clothes you fight in. You're a warrior but you're also a girl and you shouldn't let being a slayer take that away from you."

He walked back to the nightstand, pouring more liquid into his hands and again warming it up. The lavender scent filled the room. Angel then went back to the end of the bed but this time he climbed onto the mattress, on his knees between Buffy's legs. He placed both hands on either side of her sex, letting the oil seep into her skin. "Slayers are women because you're stronger than men. You wield death but you can also create life. You are the very best this world has to offer. Magic is what gives you the power but your humanity is what makes you effective. No one is more human than you."

Angel moved out from between her legs so that he was now next to her. He crawled up the bed, both on their backs, side by side. He turned his head towards her. "I will love you past the end of time."

Turning on her side, her eyes wet, Buffy murmured, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I'm sorry I just assumed. I think the problem is we're normally so in tune with each other, that we forget that we aren't mind readers."

She closed the small distance between them so that her body was against his. "You need to get undressed. You don't need to be a mind reader to know what I want."

Angel was hurriedly shucking off his clothes. "These last two weeks, I almost went crazy without you." His shirt removed, he pulled Buffy in for a kiss while her hands were undoing the zipper of his pants. Between the two of them, they managed to remove his chinos and underwear as he rolled onto his back, pulling Buffy with him. Her hands were splayed on his pecs, while his cock bumped against the curse of her ass.

Buffy lifted up slightly and then sunk down on him, as Angel's fingers wrapped around her waist to steady her. Angel momentarily thought they would indulge in slow, languid lovemaking but as soon as Buffy's heat enveloped him, that idea was immediately forgotten. She slammed down on him hard, causing him to gasp in pleasure and then he rocked his hips upwards, pulsing back into her. One of his hands left her waist, snaking between their bodies, stroking her as she rode him until she spasmed in pleasure, which caused him to let go in turn.

Buffy shifted just enough to cause his now softened manhood to slip out but she stayed on him, breasts lightly brushing his chest, her sex against his groin. He tilted his head back so he could take her in. His warrior goddess.

Finally sliding off, she pulled him close. He could feel her breathing deepening but before sleep pulled her under, Angel's voice cut through the quiet of the room. "Don't leave me. I wouldn't be able to bear it."

She cupped his face and pulled him toward her, kissing him soft and sweet. "Silly," Buffy said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Buffy snuggled back into him and as the minutes ticked by, Angel could tell that Buffy had fallen asleep. He stared at the bedroom wall, across from where he lay. He knew she meant what she said, but he wondered how much time they would actually have. The last few weeks had reminded him of that fact. If there was a choice, he would gladly die in her place. But other things could tear them apart, he saw that now. He didn't have a lot of experience with happiness. Buffy would be yelling at him right about now if she had an inkling of the direction of his thoughts. He sighed. Maybe he was being too pessimistic.

Sleep finally started to pull him under when he remembered something from Twelfth Night.

Present mirth hath present laughter

What's to come is still unsure

In delay there lies no plenty

Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

He would do his best to live for the now and make Buffy happy.