FIC: Love's Gift

Author: Jill

Disclaimer: let me check ... nope, still don't own them. And I have to mention Kelly Rowe's story, "What I Need", because it gave me the inspiration.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: B/A, and the usual pairings from the show

Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), Land of Denial, if you have any of my stories, take it; anybody else tell me where it goes

Spoilers: BtVS up to the scene in "Passion" where Angel climbs into Buffy's bedroom is a fair game. It slips into AU after that.

Feedback: oh yes, please, and give some to Kelly, too!

Dedication: this goes to Kelly, because her story gave me the inspiration. Thanks, sweetie!

Note: if you want to read Kelly's story, it's at her site, but be aware that it's NC-17 (strong), https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/abt/nc17/whatineed.html

The water in the teapot spilled all over the kitchen counter, Giles' hands were shaking so badly. He knew it was a belated reaction to shock, knew it all too well, because he'd experienced it before, several times in fact.

He encountered demons, fought vampires, averted apocalypses by helping the Slayer to understand their workings, and he'd seen things nobody would believe, but try as he might, he couldn't remember even having been so shocked before.

The evening had started so promising. He invited Jenny to come over, to settle the problems between them, knowing they couldn't go on like this. With Angelus wracking havoc all over town they couldn't afford to ignore her knowledge about the nature of Angel's curse. Besides after weeks of resenting her, Giles realised he missed her dearly, her beautiful face, her fancy clothes, her laugh, and so he'd tried to get over the anger he was still harbouring against her, the disappointment of her betrayal, and had invited her.

And now she was sitting in his living room, wearing an equally shocked expression, he guessed, waiting for him to come back so that they could talk and somehow understand what had occurred last night.

"Tea will be ready in a few minutes," he called over his shoulder, deliberately avoiding to look at the people assembled in his living room.

To think he'd been worried sick when Buffy hadn't come back to report last night, to think he'd been worried even more when he couldn't find her the whole day. Granted, it was Saturday and for that no school, but he hadn't been able to contact her by phone either. He had called her house, only to find out that her mother had gone, too. Probably one of her art exhibitions.

Giles sighed, realising with dread the tea was ready and there was no way to put this off any longer. Loading a tray with two more cups, the fresh tea, and some cookies, he took a deep breath, then walked back into the living-room.

Summoning a smile, he placed the tray on the table. "Here we go. Some fresh tea, and something to nibble at."

Jenny laughed nervously, her eyes restless, her fingers entwined tightly, her knuckles white. "Thank you, Rupert."

The other two persons didn't say anything. They just watched him fill the cups, waited until he sat down, looking at them.

Had there been a tense silence while he'd been brewing the tea, it was awkward now, none of them knowing how to begin, what to say.

Giles finally cleared his throat, "So," he began. "Anyone explain this to me now?"

They shifted in their seats, exchanged glances, but didn't say a word.

"It could get a little bit one sided if I'm the only one talking tonight," the watcher went on, not bothering that a sarcastic note had entered his voice. "Besides, you came to me, and ... after the initial shock has worn off now, I find myself quite interested to hear what exactly caused this." He steeled himself for a moment, then turned his head, for the first time looking directly at the vampire sitting in front of him.

Ever since he'd found Buffy and Angel standing in front of his door tonight, he'd avoided looking at the vampire. He wasn't sure why, maybe because he would hate to see the emptiness in their former ally's eyes, or maybe because he had to acknowledge he was really here. Not just some projection his imagination had made up.

But Angel was sitting there, his eyes showing feelings only a soul could cause.

Or maybe, Giles thought, he'd hadn't wanted to see the deep guilt, the remorse, the shame, he was seeing now. "Maybe you could explain," the watcher urged, getting more impatient with each passing moment. The adrenaline had worn off by now, and he was anxious to understand what was going on.

The last time he'd seen Angel, the vampire had been evil, vicious, and ... well, soulless. He wasn't anymore.

Giles simply hated being left in the dark.

"Actually," Buffy managed to speak at last, "we're not sure."

"Ah," the watcher nodded. "That's ... er ... not very helpful, I'm afraid. I mean, Angel obviously is in full possession of his soul again, and for all our sakes, I'd like to understand what happened."

"So would we," Angel agreed, looking at the older man seriously. "That's why we came."

Giles quickly glanced at Jenny, only to see her staring at the carpet, then shifted his attention back at Angel. "Fine. Well, maybe it would be helpful if you just told me what happened. Maybe if I knew ... we would be able to find the reason for the ... the change."

"Maybe someone just cursed him again," Buffy offered, her voice uncertain, a blush staining her cheeks.

"That's not very likely." Jenny spoke up for the first time, her voice strained. "I cannot see my people repeating the curse. It was a single act. Born from pain. By a need for revenge. They wouldn't just do it again - hundred years later."

"They are the ones who cursed him with a stupid loophole," the slayer replied, feeling anger boiling up inside of her. It was a good feeling. Safe. "It wouldn't surprise me if they held a grudge for even longer. That strange uncle of yours certainly did."

"My uncle ...," Jenny looked at the ground again, frowned, then gazed at Angel, "He was very caught up into the traditions of my people. I agree that his ... behaviour, his actions, weren't justified."

"Believe me, they were," was all Angel said to it, his eyes serious and so incredibly sad, the gypsy felt doubly ashamed for having been part of this whole affair.

"Angel," she said, "whatever you did. Or rather the demon did, it didn't give them ... us ... a right to inflict this kind of torture on your soul. I cannot tell you how it makes me feel to actually have supported what happened to you. My only excuse is that I had no idea what I was getting into when they sent me to Sunnydale to watch you."

"Jenny." Angel's voice was soft, "I would never blame you. I'm hardly in a position to blame anyone."

"But I did," Buffy cut in, "And I'm resenting you for not telling us. You knew Angel and I loved each other, you saw us together. You knew what was going to happen, or at least could have guessed it. But you did nothing to prevent it. You only came out with the truth when it was too late already."

"Buffy," the vampire took the Slayer's hand. "Let it go. We shouldn't dwell on it. There's more important stuff we have to worry about."

She looked at him for a moment, then sighed, "Okay. Fine. Let's forget about it." Her gaze shifted at Jenny. "Maybe we could start out new."

The computer teacher's smile was wobbly, "I'd like that."

"Well, now that we've established that," Giles' impatient voice intruded their little reunion, "can we come back to the matter at hand. How Angel regained his soul. I still don't understand it."

He saw Buffy blush again, clear her throat, then she looked away, but Giles had already seen the flash of embarrassment flicker through her eyes. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable himself, he turned towards Angel again.

Taking an unnecessary breath, the vampire got the hint. "Last night I ... that is the demon ... climbed into Buffy's bedroom." He took another breath, combed a hand through his hair, "I don't know how much the watcher diaries say about Angelus, but in my soulless state I do have a thing for mind-games. And I tend to get obsessed with things."

"I see," Giles nodded. "Obsessions like - Buffy?"

"Yes. Like her. The fact that I'm in love with her only adds to the temptation." He shook his head, "Anyways. I intended to draw a picture, leave it on her pillow, for her to find it in the morning. I even started to draw when Buffy suddenly woke up."

He grew quiet for a moment, looked at the girl beside him. She gave him a quick smile, squeezed his hand. It gave him the courage to go on. "Well, I ... don't exactly know what happened. She was still half-asleep, and she looked so tempting and ...," he cleared his throat, not comfortable with the subject, even more hating the fact he had to talk about it in public.

Angel had always been an intensely private person. He didn't go out to share his feelings. Hundred years of brooding on his own had shaped him. This, plus his upbringing at a time when subjects like this were never discussed in public, barely mentioned in private, only added to his distress. For the first time he was actually glad he couldn't blush.

He was glad to see that Giles and Jenny seemed as uncomfortable as he, and he was even more glad to see that they'd obviously understood what he had hinted at. "So you ... uh ... you know," the watcher cleared his throat, "And what then?"

"Only seconds afterwards he ... he started to groan, clutched his head, then became unconscious," Buffy told them, realising that this was the part she had to explain. "When he woke up, he was Angel again." She shrugged, as if to indicate that she had not the slightest idea what had caused this.

"I can't believe this," Giles said, his movements suddenly jerky.

"Neither could I," Buffy agreed, suddenly eager to get this over with, pleasantly surprised it was going to well. "I mean, I ... I even handcuffed him. To my bed. And ... and ... and ... God, I was so glad mom wasn't at home. And then he woke up ... and here he was. Angel."

She shot the vampire a quick glance. She would never tell anybody, how she had felt when she'd finally realised he'd really come back. Nobody would ever know how he'd broken down in front of her, sobbing uncontrollably when his memory returned, when he realised what had happened and more importantly what had caused it. That one moment of true happiness, a moment of beauty, had caused such pain and chaos.

Giles would never know that they held each other the rest of the night and the whole day, needing the contact, the feeling of the other near by, to assure themselves this was true, and not just a dream. That only afterwards they had been able to face the world, to find out what had happened.

These things were private, and would stay between them. It was nobody's business but theirs. And it would stay that way. Buffy knew that the coming weeks would be hard, and she could almost hear Xander. He was already carrying so much resentment towards Angel, she could imagine his reaction. But she would never betray Angel's trust by telling the others what had occurred the last 24 hours, even if it would help for them to understand how it was for him. That Angel - with his soul - was as much a victim, if not even more, than they were.

She jerked almost as if she'd been slapped when Giles suddenly stood up, and shouted, "This was incredibly irresponsible of you. Not to say extremely foolish. He might have killed you after ... well, afterwards."

"Rupert." Jenny reached out, but the watcher avoided her touch, gesturing wildly at the couple.

"There is no excuse. You behaved immaturely, and ... I don't know what to say. I can … up to a certain degree … understand Angel. He was a soulless demon after all. But you …"

"I know that," Buffy whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, her whole body vibrating, "I know it, okay. I know it was irresponsible, and foolish, and ... really bad, but it happened. It just happened. I'm human. I make mistakes. Those things happen." Her voice had been raising during her speech and in the end she was yelling at him, her eyes blazing.

"You are the Slayer," Giles countered, noticing with irritation that Angel ran his hand up and down Buffy's bare arm, telling her without words that he would be there for her, no matter what. The watcher knew it shouldn't surprise him. After all Slayer and vampire had touched each other much more intimately already, but it did, and so he added, "You're *not* just a regular human girl."

"I know that, too," she shot back. "Don't you think I realise that? I don't have a normal life, I will never have a normal life. It ended the day some strange English guy came into and turned it upside down." A sob escaped her, and she pressed her free hand on her mouth.

"Buffy."

She took several breaths, then turned towards Angel. He was watching her with concern, his eyes full of love, full of all the feelings she had missed for too long. "What?," she asked, trying to calm down.

He gave her a slight smile, then his gaze shifted towards Jenny, who hadn't said very much so far, but there was understanding and compassion in her eyes. Finally he settled on Giles. "Yelling and shouting at each other will lead us nowhere," he said slowly. "I know I don't really have a right ...," he swallowed, quickly looking at the ground, then back up, "But ... Slayer or no, Buffy is still a seventeen year old girl. She already carries the weight of the world more often than any of us can understand. She didn't ... do what she ... we ... did deliberately. It happened."

Letting go of her hand, Angel stood, walked towards the door, then back, "Don't think we don't know that ... this," he gestured at Buffy, at him, "Us. We know that it shouldn't happen. But it did. It does. When we were together the night of her birthday, none of us could know what might happen."

"Well, one of us did," Buffy interrupted him flippantly, glaring at Jenny. The Slayer knew she was behaving unreasonable with this, knew she'd just promised to forget about it, but she just couldn't forget what Jenny had done. The wounds the teacher's actions - or rather non-actions - had caused, were to deep. Angel might have his soul back, but Buffy wasn't certain if she would ever wake up without being afraid she'd lost him again.

The computer teacher fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. "I've repeatedly announced how sorry I am for the things that happened. I ... I know I deceived you and deliberately let you believe I was your friend, when I was spying on you all the time. But if you let me, I'd do anything to help. To redeem myself in your eyes."

The Slayer's expression turned sly. "Well, you could," she said, "How about you help to find out what's going on. And more importantly, what the state of Angel's soul is now."

Part 2

With a sigh Jenny replaced the receiver in the cradle. The phone call had been for nothing. She shouldn't be disappointed, she knew, but she was. Her cousin had been polite but short lipped and he aunt had refused to talk to her at all. She knew they blamed her for her uncle's death, blamed her for not doing her job, blamed her for being human, she thought angrily.

Yes, she should have known it. From the moment she'd been sent to watch Angel she had felt something was off. She remembered the expression in her relatives' eyes, the unforgiving hatred, it made her shiver at the memory. They were so blinded by their unhealthy revenge, they couldn't think straight anymore. Yes, Angelus had killed her uncle. But it wasn't Angel's fault he'd fallen in love with Buffy, it wasn't his fault that her clan had constructed this insane curse.

They had wanted to punish the demon for it's actions, but were punishing the man instead. Angel was a master in hiding his feelings, but still she'd seen the flashes of pain and guilt, the deep shame whenever his past was mentioned. He'd done nothing to earn it, other than being young, foolish - human. He'd been blinded by a beautiful woman, a woman who promised him the world. A woman that turned out to be a vampire. Darla.

Jenny looked up hearing a noise from the door, and turning her head she saw Giles coming back into his living-room. Buffy and Angel had left earlier. They would meet again the next evening. Slayer and vampire had promised to be careful, and Jenny had to smile thinking how uncomfortable Rupert had been when warning them to do nothing that might break the curse again. He was simply adorable when he was embarrassed.

"What's funny?," Giles asked, looking at her quizzically.

She shook her head, "Nothing. Actually, it's not funny at all. Aunt Elora refused to talk to me. She told my cousin the matter wasn't open for discussion. They don't trust me anymore, Rupert," she said, turning towards the window, staring out into the night. "They blame me for my uncle's death."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she replied, smiling slightly to herself. "They are insane with hatred. Blinded by it. I'm glad I'm not part of it anymore. The problem is, it doesn't help Buffy and Angel a single bit."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed, walking slowly towards her, resting his palms on her shoulders. "But I'm glad, too."

She loved the warmth spreading from his palms into her body, "But what are we going to do? We have to help them, Rupert. I've seen Buffy these last weeks. She was only a shell of her old self. But tonight the sparkle was back in her eyes. Did you see how she was touching him all the time, as if to assure herself he was really here?"

Rubbing her tense shoulders, Giles sighed, "I have seen it. And it irritated me - for a while. But I agree, none of us ever realised how badly she needs him. She relies on him. She trusts him." He paused, not sure he could say the next words, but saying them nevertheless, "She loves him."

Jenny nodded, turned to look at him, "Yes, she does. And he loves her. I'm too old to think that love overcomes all, but with them ... I have a feeling by separating them we'd destroy Buffy. Angel …," she paused, thought about it, "he's used to pain. To grief. He will probably be able to find a way to live without her. At least exist without her. But Buffy," she shook her head, "I'm not sure she can."

Giles ran his hands down her arms, squeezed her hands for a moment, then let go. Walking back to the table, he picked up a book, "I never wanted to separate them."

"I'm not saying that," she smiled gently, paused, until he looked at her again. "On the contrary. I think you were very supportive where Buffy and Angel were concerned. But deep inside, we all thought it was doomed. That it wouldn't last. That it couldn't last. After tonight, I think we were wrong. It will last. And for Buffy's sake, it has to. He might be a vampire, and he might be immortal, but he understands her. On a level none of us can touch."

He smiled as well now. "It seems you've given the problem a lot of thought."

"It happens when you're alone at home, feeling guilty. You'd be surprised what things go on in your mind then."

"Oh, I know," Giles replied, chuckling. "Don't think you're the only one carrying guilt."

"I know, I'm not" she said gently, thinking about a time when a demon the watcher had helped to create, had used her as a host. "But sometimes thinking is a good thing. And time. I had a lot of time and I … I ... uh ... translated Angel's curse."

His head snapped up, "You did?"

Sighing, she nodded. "It's terrible. A cruel curse to punish, to torture. But I thought in knowing the words, we might be able to understand it. Now," she shrugged a bit helplessly. "I'm not sure anymore. I've read it again and again. There's nothing in it. It's just that. A curse. No secrets. Certainly nothing to help us understand what happened last night."

"I see." Giles sighed, too. "Well, maybe I could read over the curse, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. I thought we could go over it together tomorrow night." She glanced at the clock. It was already well past midnight.

"A good idea," he agreed, then cleared his throat, "Do you ... want me to bring you home?"

She hesitated only for a moment. "Yes," she answered, "Yes, I think that would be good."

He nodded, "Yes. I think, too."

They smiled at each other. They had made a big step tonight towards restoring their earlier relationship. But both knew it was too early for more. It would come later. When they were free to think about themselves.

Angel cleared his throat before he opened the door to his old apartment, holding it open for Buffy to enter. She gave him a quick glance then stepped inside. He switched on the light, and she grimaced. "Can you say dusty?"

"I ... uh ... wasn't here after ... you know," he replied, more than a little embarrassed.

She turned swiftly, putting a hand on his arm, "Angel," she said softly. "It was a joke. I don't mind. My room looks worse most of the time."

"Oh." He had to clear his throat again. "I'm not sure it was the best idea to come here. It holds a lot of bad memories for you."

"Not only bad ones," she replied, smiling at him, then frowned, "Which probably isn't really a safe topic tonight."

"No, probably not," he agreed. "Not as long as we ...," he trailed off, quickly looked away from the curtain that separated his bedroom from the rest of his apartment. The images he connected with it were much too vivid, too dangerous. Last night he hadn't been able to prevent what had happened, and regarding the outcome he couldn't feel sorry for it. But he would do nothing that could set Angelus free again.

"Right," she said shortly. "Maybe I should better leave. You know distance might be even safer."

"No!," he said quickly. "I ... I don't want you to go. But ... if you -"

"No. I don't want to go either. Mom won't be home anyway. Not until tomorrow night. So it's not really that someone is missing me."

"Good," he released a breath of relief. Then realising how it sounded, he hurried to amend, "Of course I didn't mean-"

"I know," she cut him off, smiling to show him she understood. He was so tense, so uncertain standing in his living-room, his eyes cast to the ground. They had been so close the last 24 hours, and Buffy wanted it back. She knew they had to be careful, but she couldn't stand the distance that was growing between them.

"Can I get you something?," he asked all of a sudden, remembering his manners.

"No, thanks. And I doubt you'd have something anyway."

"Right," he nodded, again embarrassment rising inside of him. "Well ... what do you want us to do?"

"Angel." Not able to stand it any longer, she walked over to him, took his hand. Startled he raised his head, but the expression in his eyes was guarded, and inwardly she sighed. "Maybe we could talk some more?"

"Talk?" He said the word as if he'd never heard it before, stared at her.

"Yes, talk." She smiled slightly. "You know two people. Their lips are moving, words are coming out of their mouths...," she trailed off.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head, "Sorry," he apologized. "Yes, of course we can talk." He looked at his hand in hers, but didn't pull away. "It's just that I told you everything last night. There isn't much more."

"No?," her smile was a bit wobbly. "Well maybe I could talk then. And you could listen." She hated it, but she felt tears well up in her eyes. "Angel, I ... I need you. I missed you so much. Every time I met your demon, I ... was hoping ...," her voice broke, and she tried to pull away, tried to turn her back to him.

But suddenly she found herself in his embrace instead. Two strong arms were wrapping themselves around her, bringing her close, his hands stroking her back, his lips whispering, his words comforting her. "I'm sorry," he said, and she felt him tremble.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, glad the distance was gone. "I can't go on without you again," she whispered into his broad chest. "I need to be with you. I know we have to be careful, but," she shrugged, "that doesn't mean we can't hold each other, be there for each other, right?"

"No, it doesn't," he agreed, cupping her face in his hands. "I love you, Buffy," he said, kissing her gently, pulling back before passion could stir.

"I love you, too," she replied, smiled.

"Okay," he said after a long moment, pulled back, then holding out his hand for her, "Tell me about you. Tell what I missed."

"Well," she smiled, put her hand in his, followed him to the sofa, "you know all the stuff about the judge. But can you believe that my mother had the hots for Xander?"

When she saw his eyes widen in shock, she laughed out loud. For a moment she was almost startled by the sound. She could hardly remember the last time she'd laughed like this. But one things she knew for certain. Angel had been there. With him gone there wasn't any laughter left in her. Now he was back, and she would do what she could to keep it that way.

Part 3

"I miss my Angel."

Spike closed his eyes, tried to block out Drusilla's voice for a moment. If it was going on like this any longer, he'd end up with a splitting headache. All thanks to his bloody sire. For all he cared Angel could go straight to hell. Not for the first time he found himself wishing the old Buffy-whipped Angelus was back, rather than the annoying soulless version.

He knew Drusilla didn't see it that way, knew that she missed him. Spike resented him even more for that. It was one thing that Angel had had his girlfriend night after night. Sex wasn't really special for a vampire. Drusilla was a passionate person, and Spike was aware that she'd been seeking satisfaction elsewhere ever since he was bound to that damned wheelchair, and that Angel had existed in her life long before the blond vampire. Hell, he'd made her after all.

What really bugged Spike was that Angel was a threat for Dru's affection. For once, Drusilla was Angel's childe. And there had always been a special bond between them. Spike usually ignored it. But with Angel so near by all the time, it grew stronger.

"Aaaaangeeellll."

"Hell, would you mind stop that whining now?," he whirled the wheel-chair around. "I really can't stand it."

She turned slowly, her eyes unfocussed, she was staring into space. "He's gone," she said, a frown appearing on her forehead. "Someone's destroyed our happy home."

"Gone?," Spike studied her face closely. "Are you sure? Because I'd say good riddance then. It's not a minute too early."

"Oooooooh, Spiiiiike," she fell to the ground, clutching her head, "My Angel," she cried, "my Angel."

Gone? What the hell did it mean? Was the bugger dead? Had he left Sunnyhell? But no, he'd never leave the town. The Slayer was here, and Angel was obsessed with her. Spike could relate to that. He knew all about obsessions and Slayers. No, Angel wouldn't leave. But it was a fact that he hadn't shown up for more than 24 hours. Not that he actually told anyone what he'd been up to. The mighty Angelus never bothered with those things.

Spike looked to the ground, Dru was still sobbing, lost in her own world, while the puppy licked the salty tears from her cheeks. As far as Spike was concerned an eternity until he saw his sire again was still too early.

"I can't believe humans actually wrote this." With a jerky movement Giles removed his glasses, then pulled out a handkerchief to rub them. Giving the paper in front of him a glance of disgust he leaned back, looking at the little group assembled in the library. "It's completely inhuman."

"I know," Jenny said quietly, shame colouring her voice.

"It was made to punish a demon," Angel reminded them softly, "Humanity had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, no," Buffy turned swiftly, glaring at her boyfriend, "You're not taking the blame again. Giles is right. It's inhuman." She looked at him firmly, and he had to smile. Under the table he reached for her hand, squeezed it gratefully. He had not the slightest idea what he'd done to earn this unwavering support of her's, but he wasn't about to question it. At least not at the moment.

Maybe not ever.

The exchange wasn't lost to the others, but while Willow smiled at the recently reunited couple, reaching for Oz's hand under the table as well, Giles and Jenny looked at them with understanding, Xander straightened suddenly in his chair.

"Okay," he said, "that's it. That's enough. I've got enough of this happy family reunion." He ignored Cordelia's hand that was pulling at his arm, shook it off angrily. "I didn't say anything so far, but that's it. I was sitting here the whole evening, asking myself the one question nobody's obviously going to ask." He jumped up, planting his hands on his hips, glaring at Angel, then turning towards Buffy, "Why the hell didn't you just stake him when he was unconscious? Or were you too wrapped up in the afterglow of sex you couldn't think straight?"

"Xander!"

Even before he'd heard Willow's shocked outcry, he knew he'd gone too far, but at the moment he didn't care. They were all behaving as if nothing had happened. Even Giles and Jenny were accepting. Accepting! Xander couldn't believe it. Angel had roamed the streets of Sunnydale for weeks, maimed and killed, tortured all of them, stalked Buffy, and they were taking him back with open arms. Like the prodigal son finally coming home.

Well, he for once, wouldn't welcome Angel. Hell would freeze over first. This thought firm in mind, he raised his chin.

"Actually, I've been asking this myself, ever since I woke up with my soul firmly in place. So far, I haven't been able to find an explanation."

And like this Xander felt all the steam leave his body. He stared in disbelief at the vampire who'd just uttered the words, feeling like a fool, or - judging the expression on Cordelia's face - like a bug. A very, very low bug.

He saw Buffy turn her head, saw tears in the blonde's eyes when she looked at Angel. She reached out her hand, cupped the vampire's chin. There was an expression on her face Xander had never seen before. It was so soft it made him want to weep. Her voice was a bit wobbly, but he had no problems to understand the words. "I couldn't. Because I love you. I love you so much. And as long as there was a chance to bring you back ... how could you expect me to kill you?"

Angel obviously was at loss of words at that. Xander saw him struggle, and lose. Faster than the boy could see, the Slayer was in the vampire's arms, in his lap, Angel holding her close, his eyes shut tightly, he took several deep breaths. Then his eyes opened again, and he blinked rapidly. He still held Buffy close to him, but cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he managed, and Xander suddenly realised that for someone like Angel who rarely showed any kind of emotion, this had to be extraordinary. No wonder he was embarrassed.

Feeling someone tugging at his arm, Xander found Cordelia glaring up at him. "Sit down," she hissed, and when he did, she added, "And shut up. You've done enough for tonight."

Feeling even worse, he glanced at Willow, his best friend since earliest childhood, but all he found in her eyes was disappointment. It was like a slap in his face. Ashamed he lowered his head. Maybe he should just crawl into his bed and pretend he was dead. The way Cordy had looked at him, he was sure she wouldn't let him kiss her for a week. He sighed inwardly. And maybe he should just learn to keep his mouth shut. Or think first, and talk later.

"Well, yes," Giles cleared his throat loudly, rubbing his glasses so hard, Willow thought he would break them. "Maybe we should come back to the reason of this meeting. The reason why his soul was returned to Angel, and what this means for the future."

"You mean if they can get groiny with each other without the world falling into pieces. Because I really hate to think my life might depend on something as simple as an orgasm."

Willow turned beet reed, while Xander almost choked, then coughed to cover it.

"Yes, Cordelia, thank you for putting this into perspective," the watcher said dryly, but had to chuckle inwardly. The brunette might be tactless sometimes, but her blunt remarks certainly helped to ease the tension.

"You're welcome," she replied, giving him a bright smile.

Shaking his head, he picked up the sheet in front of him. "We have to thank Jenny for this translation. She also made copies for all of you, and I suppose you all have read it by now. As I said before, it's an inhuman curse. The Romani said they were doing it to seek justice, but this has nothing to do with justice. It's vengeance. Plain and simple. And it's disgusting."

He gazed at Buffy and Angel, who were sitting separately again. Traces of tears were still on her cheeks, but she was listening closely. "Giles," Angel's voice was low, heavy loaded with guilt, "Believe me. They had every right for vengeance."

But the watcher didn't have compassion for the gypsies. "That's no excuse. You - or rather your demon - might have done horrible things. But nothing justifies vengeance. A mental torture like this. But what even weighs more is this stupid clause. Whoever created it ...," he trailed off, shaking his head again. "What did they hope to achieve? The result, and we've seen it first hand, was to set your demon free. It's insane. Who would want your demon to run free again?"

"They wanted to make sure he was suffering eternally," Jenny spoke up. "Happiness wasn't part of the plan."

Putting his glasses back on, Giles rubbed his forehead, "No, certainly not."

"Uhm ...," Willow held up a hand, "We agree they did a bad job the way they cursed Angel," she smiled briefly at the vampire, "But does that help?"

"No, no," the watcher shook his head. "Willow is right. What we need to do, is to understand this curse. The way it works. Maybe to find an explanation for what happened to Angel last night. I'm sure it has to be in here. Maybe hidden."

"Hidden?," Jenny looked at him doubtfully, "But I've read it again and again. There's nothing in it."

"Couldn't there be some kind of hidden code?," Cordelia asked, staring at her copy. "I mean ... they did have codes then, right?"

"A code?," Giles tilted his head, gazed at her. Suddenly his eyes lit up, and he slapped his hands together. "Of course, a code. Cordelia, that's brilliant. Why didn't anyone of us think about it. It has to be a code. And it has to be in it. All we have to do is find it."

"All?" Willow sighed, "I'd say it's going to be pretty difficult. Because so far, nothing I've read didn't even look like a code."

"Did you hear him, he said I'm brilliant?" Cordelia beamed at Xander.

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, I heard it." And he'd probably hear it again during the next week. She would certainly remind him. Often.

"Just so you remember it," she replied, looking at Buffy and Angel. "You owe me."

"Yes, Cordelia, we do," Buffy said, sighing, too.

"Don't forget it."

"We won't," the Slayer said, and the tone of her voice said, she meant it. Looking back at the words in front of her. "Maybe we should read it aloud. Or backwards. Or ..."

"It's like searching for a needle in a haystack," Xander muttered.

"It is, but we have to find it," Buffy said, her voice pleading. "We just have to." She looked around, at her friends, and was relieved to see them nod. At last her eyes stayed on Xander for a moment. Only after he nodded, too, she relaxed slightly, and concentrated on the text.

Part 4

It was after midnight when suddenly a loud yawn sounded through the library. Startled by the noise everyone looked up to see Willow blush, then laugh slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry," she said biting her lower lip.

"Good God," Giles smiled at her. "There's no reason to apologize."

"He's right," Buffy agreed instantly. "You're all sitting here for hours just to help," her eyes shifted to Angel, then back at her friends, "us."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Xander spoke up, trying to apologize that way for his earlier slip. "Besides. There's really nothing going on tomorrow but school. And who needs that anyway."

"Mom!" The Slayer jumped up, her eyes wide in panic. "Oh God. Mom's supposed to get back from her art exhibition in New York tonight. She's going to freak if I'm not there." She looked at the clock, sighed, "I'm SO grounded."

"Maybe I could come with you, explain," Giles offered.

"And say what?," she shot back. "Sorry your under-aged daughter missed curfew time, but she's the Slayer, who just got her vampire boyfriend back, with whom she had sex. Afterwards he got his soul back, which he lost in the first place because they had sex before on her 17th birthday? I don't think so."

The watcher frowned, then sighed in defeat. "Point taken."

"But what am I going to do?," she asked nobody in particular. "I cannot be grounded at the moment. I simply can't."

"But you're going to be, young lady. And for a very long time."

Buffy gasped in shock and eight pairs of startled eyes turned to look at Joyce Summers standing in the doorway.

"Mom." The Slayer's voice was pure panic. "What are you doing here? It's past midnight."

"Oh?," Joyce raised a brow, "Well, let me think," she said sarcastically. "I come home around ten only to find my daughter gone with absolutely no cue where she might be. I call Mrs. Rosenberg, and she tells me Willow isn't home either. Then I remembered Mr. Giles, and thought he might know. So here I am. And I really have to say, Mr. Giles, that I think it's irresponsible of you to call teenagers in for some tutoring at this time of the night without giving any note to the parents."

Buffy's eyes widened, "Tutoring?," she asked, staring at her mother dumbfounded.

"Yes, Buffy," Willow looked at her urgently. "We were learning together. You know, history."

"Ah, yes, tutoring," the blond gave her friend a grateful gaze, "We were doing ... history, you know. You know how I flunk in history, and so I thought-"

"Yes, I know all about history," her mother sighed, stepped fully into the library, joining the group at the table. When her eyes fell on Angel, who was the only one standing beside Buffy, she frowned, "We met before, haven't we?"

"We have," Angel replied, "About a year ago, in your house."

"Ah, yes," she nodded, her eyes narrowing instantly. "And what are you doing here? I thought Mr. Giles was tutoring-"

"Yes, yes, I am," the watcher jumped up, too, walked over to her, "But Angel ... uh ... his knowledge about history is stunning."

"Yeah," Xander cut in, "almost as if he's lived through it himself."

"That's true," Willow was quick to agree. "He knows things ... stuff ... you wouldn't believe. He's really smart."

"It's awesome," Oz agreed as well.

Cordelia just rolled her eyes.

"I ...," Mrs. Summers looked around. "Are you a teacher, too?," she asked finally looking at Jenny.

"Yes, I am," Miss Calender got up, "I'm the computer teacher. I'm here to explain how to use the computer for research," she told the older woman with a complete straight face, and for a moment Giles was painfully reminded of her betrayal.

"I see," Joyce nodded, still not completely convinced, but the fact that two - she glanced at Angel, three adults were present, somewhat mollified her. Still, she remembered the way Buffy had looked at Angel a year ago. And the guy was far too old for her daughter. "But it's still too late. You've got school tomorrow, Buffy. And although I'm willing to acknowledge the efforts you're taking for school, a certain amount of sleep is important, too."

"Of course," Buffy nodded eagerly, and, glad her mother had bought the lie, collected her stuff from the table. "I'm ready."

"Fine," Joyce looked around, "Good night everybody."

Good nights from everyone were the response. She turned and behind her back Buffy quickly kissed Angel on the cheek then followed her mother.

"Dru, baby, you need to eat."

"No."

"But you need to eat. You can't go on like this. You'll lose your strength."

"No."

Spike rolled his eyes. He usually loved her stubborn streak, but at the moment, it was more than he could handle. And all because Angel hadn't shown up for two days. Damn him. He swore inwardly. Damn him to hell. Angel had turned Dru's world upside down and now Spike was left to pick up the pieces.

"Boss."

He whirled around in his wheelchair, raised a brow at Lucius. "What?"

"I brought the food." He pointed over his shoulder, towards a young man, bound and gagged, his eyes wide in horror. Spike could smell his scent through the whole factory, and it made his belly grumble in anticipation.

He nodded at his minion, then turned back to his lover. "Dru, baby. Lucius brought the food," he said gently, rolling over to her, touching her shoulder. She was lying curled like a ball on the ground, staring into space. He knew her mind was far away where he couldn't reach her, and he hated it.

She froze at his touch, her shoulders tensed. "Angel," she whispered.

"God, I hate the bugger," Spike gritted out between clenched teeth. He had to find out what was going on. And soon. Tonight for the first time since his accident he'd felt a slight stirring in his legs. He hoped it meant what he thought it did. As soon as he was on his feet again, things would change around here.

He gave his lover a last glance, sighed. She had to end some time, but there was no acute danger. She was strong and healthy now that he had performed the ritual with Angel, and she could go for a few days without blood. He would find a way to bring her back into the real world. And together they would rule this miserable town.

With a determined motion he whirled the chair back to Lucius. "Bring me the boy," he ordered. "I'm suddenly ravenous."

They were leaving the library, and Angel had already walked a short distance when Jenny's voice stopped him. "Angel?"

He turned, saw her standing beside her car, her fingers entwined, playing with each other, her expression uncertain. Trying to ease her tension, he smiled, "Yes?"

"Can I ... uh ... could I give you a lift?" She nodded pointedly at her car, bit her lower lip.

Of course she knew he didn't need a car. As a vampire, if he wanted, he could be almost as fast on foot, but he felt there was more to her offer. "That'd be nice," he replied, walking towards her.

He saw a fleeting smile cross her tense features, before she climbed into her car and he did the same.

Sitting side by side the tension was almost palpable and after a moment, Jenny turned on the ignition, started the car, and pulled it out of the school parking space. Clearing her throat, she said, "I ... uh ... don't know where you live. I might need directions."

He looked at her profile, her eyes directed on the street, he could see a muscle in her jaw jumping. "Just drive on, I'll show you. It's not far."

More tense, silent moments went by before she suddenly blurted out, "I'm sorry." She shot him a short glance, tried to give him an apologetic smile. Failing, she bit her lower lip instead. Misery was written all over her face.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he said softly, not taking his eyes from her. "Whatever your people did to me, believe me, I deserved it."

Stubbornly she shook her head, "No. That's not true. Your demon did all those things. You ... your soul wasn't even there."

"But I was responsible it happened in the first place. If I had turned Darla down-"

She cut him off in mid sentence, anger replacing guilt, "You were young, for God's sake. Okay, not that young, but young. You can't tell me you had any idea what it meant to be a vampire. You couldn't know what would happen."

"No, I didn't," he confirmed. "But it's a fact I agreed. She asked me if I wanted to see the world. And I wanted it. I didn't ask. I didn't care what it meant. All I wanted was to escape. The funny part is, I don't even remember what I wanted to escape from." He paused for a moment, considered his words, then added, "Besides. I can't be angry. All that happened brought me to her. To Buffy. Without the curse ... we wouldn't have met. Or maybe we would have and tried to kill each other."

Jenny smiled slightly, then sighed, "We'll probably never agree on this. And I can see the part about Buffy. But you have to admit that creating a curse like yours is irresponsible. It's one thing to curse you with a soul, as cruel as it might be. But to create a curse that can be broken ...," she trailed off, shook her head.

"They probably didn't think it was possible someone could ever love a monster," he mused.

"You're not a monster," she protested. "And don't even try to tell me otherwise. Angel, when I came to Sunnydale I expected ... I don't even know what I expected. But certainly not a man who cared for others, who risked his life to help the Slayer, to help mankind. There is a demon inside of you, but it isn't responsible for your actions. Your soul is. We all have seen you without it, and I think none of us will ever mix you two up again."

He had to chuckle, "Probably." Suddenly he frowned, "I ... uh ... am glad you translated the curse. To help, you know."

"It's the least I could do."

"Still, I'm glad you did. And I'm glad I didn't know ... you know ... before I got my soul back."

She shot him a puzzled glance, "Why?"

He laughed, but it was without any humor, "My demon doesn't take those things well. I have no idea what he might have done if ...," he trailed off, not willing to go into the depth of things, and Jenny realised he was afraid to ponder the possibilities.

She felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Oh," was all she said.

"You have to turn right the next corner," Angel's voice pulled her from her scary thoughts.

"Oh. Right."

"It's the fourth house. There," he pointed at a large apartment building. "I persuaded the owner to let me have the basement."

She laughed slightly, but Angel heard the tremble in it, "That has to be perfect."

"It is," he agreed, "The windows are small. It was easy to cover them."

"That's ... uh ... good then."

"Jenny." Angel's voice was soft. "I didn't say what I said to scare you. I will never hurt you - if I can avoid it."

She stared straight ahead, took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, I know. That's not ... I think I never realised I put myself in danger by translating your curse. I never even thought about ... your demon ... you know."

"I know." Slowly he reached out, took her hand. It was ice-cold, and he squeezed it gently. "Thanks for your help."

She blinked, then turned her head and looked at him. "You're welcome. You are a good man, Angel. And you're good for her."

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I hope so." He smiled, "She is good for me, too."

Jenny smiled as well. "Good Night, Angel." She glanced at the sky where the night was already fading, giving way to the day and the sun. "Or should I say Good Morning?"

He squeezed her hand again, and with a last look at her, he slipped out of the car, and disappeared in the building.

Part 5

He rolled away from her, and through the pounding of her own blood she could still hear the roar of pleasure from his mouth when his cold semen had spilled into her.

She felt like floating, like not being part of this earth, like having just died a little bit. She thought about a novel she'd once read about the petit mort, the little death, how the French called it, and she knew what it meant. She'd experienced it before, on the rainy night of her seventeenth birthday.

Nothing seemed real. She was only half aware of the half-naked body lying beside her, his breathing as ragged as hers, which was weird as he didn't need to breathe in the first place. She felt sore in secret places, but it was a good feeling, a feeling of being whole, after feeling so empty for so many weeks.

She knew the emptiness would come again, knew it like she knew the sun would rise the next morning. She hadn't made love to Angel, the Angel who had once carried her to heaven. She'd slept with a demon, a demon who wore her lover's face. But not her lover's eyes. Never his eyes.

The eyes of the demon were cold, like a deep, bottomless sea during wintertime, frozen on the surface, the life drained from it, the warmth, the love. And she wanted to weep in the aftermath, wanted to weep for losing what had brought her so far, for losing what had been the most important thing in her life.

And she wanted to gag. The nausea in her stomach came sudden, disgust filling her at what she'd done, at what she'd allowed to happen. She was a human being, and she'd let a demon use her. Had even agreed. He hadn't raped her, and that was hard to accept. It had been consensual, and she hated it, loathed herself for it. She was not a demon, she had a soul.

She wanted to roll out of her bed, run to the bathroom, slam the door and never open it again, when he suddenly groaned beside her. It wasn't a quiet groan, but a noise of agony and her head snapped around.

His face was contorted, his eyes flashing amber, than turned back to the familiar brown. The next moment his fangs showed and a growl erupted from his throat, hatred burning from his usually lifeless eyes, a hatred so strong it made her feel instantly cold inside. It was more than she could bear. Lifeless was one thing. She could deal with that, because she knew it was the demon's nature. But she couldn't accept hatred, not from those eyes that once had shown her nothing but love.

Yet, survival instincts, as old as the world, kicked to life inside of her, and with a swift movement she rolled away, grabbing for a stake in the process, her body instinctively alert and ready to fight, her mind focussed on the enemy. The enemy she'd given herself so willingly to.

Fighting down another wave of nausea she stared at him, watched the change in his face, again and again, watched the demon growl, then the human facade return. He clutched his stomach, howled in pain, then became quiet again. And then, without warning, it was over. And it was almost more shocking than before.

He was completely lifeless, just lying there, not breathing, not moving. Dead. A dead body, lying on her bed.

The image hit her full force and forgetting all about caution, forgetting that it wasn't Angel on her bed, she rushed forward, the stake clattering to the ground, she sat down at his side, tentatively reaching out, touching his face, feeling his cool, smooth skin, the texture she remembered so well, would never forget it as long as she lived.

Which, she realised all of a sudden, wouldn't be long if she wasn't careful. Jumping from the bed, she went to her box with her hidden Slayer stuff, found what she had been looking for and went back to the bed.

She didn't pause, didn't think, never even contemplated ending it that very moment, the stake on the ground long forgotten, and snapped the handcuffs over his wrist, then slinging the chain through the bars of her headboard, she secured the second wrist as well.

He looked so peaceful, his eyes shut, his features relaxed. There was nothing in him of the cruel demon, there was the face of the man she loved, the man who was lost to her. How could she explain to her friends that she wasn't able to kill him? That she couldn't look at him and end his life, ending any chance to get Angel back, at the same time.

She couldn't do it. She simply couldn't.

She braced herself for the moment he'd wake up. For those eyes to open, to shatter all her dreams. For the cruelty she knew he was capable of, for the hatred, for the pain.

She had lost the time in sitting here, watching him, didn't know how late it was, didn't realise the sky was already turning light, didn't hear the noises of the birds singing for the first rays of sun. Her gaze was locked onto his, was lost in a dream that would be shattered when unconsciousness faded. But until then, she could believe in it, could still hope.

Buffy didn't know when it happened, but obviously sleep had overpowered her at last and when she came to herself again, and opened her eyes she found him looking at her.

And thought she might dream after all.

Those weren't the eyes of a demon, of a soulless monster. The eyes looking at her were soft and warm, were full of love.

Not able to believe, not daring to hope, she continued to stare at him, not understanding. She saw one of his hands twitch and realised he had been about to reach out for her, then realised he was bound.

"Buffy."

The one word shattered the silence, and Buffy felt suddenly raw, like being sliced open right in front of him. She felt a sob rising in her throat, felt her heart constricting, pressed a hand to cover her lips, afraid to lose it, desperately fighting to get a grip on her emotions.

His eyes were watching her, never wavering, never blinking, steadily focussed on her face, taking in every detail, loving her with it, like a lover's caress.

She blinked rapidly, the tears falling nevertheless, and slowly she eased the pressure on her mouth. She felt her lips trembling under her fingers, her tongue like lead in her mouth, she only managed to say his name. "A-Angel?"

He didn't respond, but she saw his pupils widen for a moment. Then his lids slid shut for a moment, and he groaned. Instantly afraid she reached out, not contemplating her spontaneous movement. He groaned again, then came his voice like a whisper, loathed with such guilt and shame, she wanted to weep. "I would really like to hold you, but I realise I've lost any right to do it."

And like this her world shifted back into focus. She didn't even think about, she uncuffed him so fast, and threw herself in his arms, the only thing he could do was react and close them around her, holding her, stroking her while she wept, while the misery of the last weeks poured out of her.

Buffy woke with a start, her eyes snapping open, not at all surprised to find tears running down her cheeks. She wondered if she would ever think about the last weeks and not feel like bawling her soul out. Maybe one day, when this was just a bad nightmare, and when they found the reason for Angel's soul being returned to him.

It was so good to have him back, she wanted to crawl onto the roof and sing it to the world - just not literally. Not even the disapproval on her mother's face could disturb the feeling of happiness she felt whenever she thought of Angel. The only thing that would make her even happier was if she could be there next to him, lying in his arms, without being afraid to lose him again.

Wouldn't it be the final irony if he came back only to be lost to her forever? If she wasn't allowed to touch him, always afraid to go too far, always scared to cause a moment of perfect happiness, and set his demon free again. She wasn't sure she would be able to stand it. Angel, she was sure of that, wouldn't. She knew that he would rather leave before allowing this to happen.

She would never forget how he'd cried in her arms, remembering all the things he'd done while his soul hadn't been there, remembering the things he'd said to her, the way he'd hurt and taunted her. Clinging to her, he'd finally fallen asleep around noon, completely drained - emotionally and physically - but holding her close to him, his arms around her tightening from time to time, even in his sleep, to assure himself she was there, wouldn't leave.

After having been forced to watch him while he tried to struggle through the onslaught of memories, she didn't even want to contemplate what it had been for him the first time, hundred years ago, when his soul had been returned to him. The Romanis certainly knew about vengeance and torture. Buffy didn't wish this for her worst enemy.

She remembered how disturbed Giles had been after reading over the curse. Her watcher had seen many things in his life, surely read a lot more. He wasn't shocked easily. But he had been white as a sheet last night in the library.

A pity those gypsies were dead and long gone. Buffy didn't see herself as an overly violent person, at least not where humans were concerned. But right this moment she wanted to beat all of them into bloody pulps, and she wasn't the slightest bit disturbed by her thoughts.

Suddenly feeling unsettled, she left the bed, walked over to the window. Looking at the rising sun, she felt a chill, and rubbing her arms, she felt goose-bumps all over them. She didn't know why. Maybe because she felt a longing for the man she loved, the man who was sleeping in another bed, not far away, but equally alone.

She'd spent the last two nights with him. Wrapped up in his arms, listening to his voice, lulled into sleep by it. He had no body warmth, couldn't give her heat, and yet she'd never been cold when he was with her. She had felt safe and protected and like finally, truly, coming home.

Having been deep in thought, she almost jumped out of her skin when a knock sounded at her door, and her mother appeared. "Morning, honey," she greeted her daughter with a slight smile. Realising Buffy was already wide awake, she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

She watched her daughter, standing at the window, for a long moment, then sat down at the edge of the bed, folded her hands in her lap. "You're up early."

"Uh-huh." Buffy combed her messy hair from her face, turning towards her mother. "I didn't sleep well."

Joyce tilted her head, "History getting to you at last?"

"Not really, no," her daughter frowned slightly. "There's just a lot going on at school."

Her mother gazed at her folded hands for a moment, then looking back up, her eyes were intent. "Between you and Angel, is it serious?"

Completely taken by surprise, Buffy stared at her. "W-what?"

Joyce chuckled slightly, "I might be an old woman in your eyes, honey, but I'm not dead. Even I can see how attractive he is. And I've seen the way he looks at you. And of course I've seen the way *you* look at him."

"You have, huh?" Her daughter took a deep breath, walked back to the bed, sat down on top of the covers. "Yeah. We're ... uh ... kind of dating."

"I see." Mrs. Summers sighed. "And since when is this going on?"

"Several months," Buffy replied honestly. "But it's not what you think," she was quick to add.

"It isn't?" Joyce raised a brow. "That would really disappoint me," she said slowly, "because I thought you two were in love with each other."

Buffy stared at her mother. Who was that person in front of her? Her mother was the most oblivious person she'd ever met. But it seemed, as far as boys were concerned, things were slightly different. "We are," she blurted out. "We ... I love him very much. And Angel ..."

"He's wonderful, I know." Her mother chuckled again, then reached out and took her daughter's hand. "Just one thing. Please be careful. I don't want you to end up a pregnant teenage mother."

"Mom!," Buffy exclaimed, clearly shocked. But of course, her mother was right. Joyce couldn't know that there was absolutely no danger for her getting pregnant. Even if they solved the mystery of Angel's curse. Angel was a vampire, so technically he was dead. Which meant his sperm was, too.

"Just promise me, Buffy. I don't want to hear details about your relationship. But I can see he's older than you. It's also no secret that I'd be happier if he wasn't. But it seems, the relationship is long past the time where any interference might have done good. So, will you promise me?"

"I will," her daughter smiled, "I promise. You don't have to worry."

Patting her daughter's hand, Joyce sighed. "I will always worry, honey." She stood, walked towards the door. "Comes with the territory," she said before she left. "Get into the shower. I'll have breakfast ready in twenty minutes."

Before she closed the door completely, Buffy called, "I love you, mom."

"I know," Joyce replied, not coming back in. "Don't take my earrings again."

There was a grin on Buffy's face when she reached for her clothes.

Part 6

Rolling her stiff neck, Willow scanned the text on the page before her, trying to make sense of the something she didn't understand. Looking up she saw Giles, Oz, Xander, Miss Calender, and Buffy equally engrossed into reading, while Cordelia was frowning at her nails, pretending she was reading as well.

Sighing inwardly, Willow gazed back at the text, "It's no use," she said finally, startling the others. She gave them a little, sheepish smile, "Sorry. It's just ... I don't understand it." She gestured at the text.

"Finally someone else who feels a little lost here." Cordelia pushed the sheet in front of her away. "I mean it's English and all, but I don't see anything unusual."

"Unfortunately," Giles sighed loudly, "neither do I."

"But we can't give up." Buffy's voice showed a hint of panic. "Please, Giles." The thought of not finding the reason for Angel's comeback, not knowing what it meant for him, for them, was unthinkable.

"We won't," he assured her quickly. "But I have to agree. It is frustrating. We've been staring at this text for three days - and nights - and none of us have found anything. Even Angel seems helpless."

"But it has to be here," the Slayer insisted. "I mean what else...," she trailed off, when she saw the concern in her watcher's gaze. "What?"

"I know," he began, pulling off his glasses, "We thought ... hoped ... that the reason for his change was part of his curse. But what ... what if someone did magic on him. It's possible. This is the Hellmouth after all."

"No." Buffy shook her head emphatically.

"It's possible," Jenny agreed softly, her eyes as concerned as Giles'

"I have to go with the computer lady here, Buffy," Xander chimed in. "I've already seen more crazy stuff anyone's ever gonna believe. So, why not?"

"But ... but ..."

"Buffy," Giles reached out, put a hand on Buffy's, holding the glasses in his other. "This doesn't have to be something bad."

She took a deep breath, tried to calm herself. "I know. But ... if someone did magic on him, we might never know. Angel might ...," her voice cracked and she had to swallow. "I cannot lose him, Giles. Not now. Not after I've just gotten him back."

"Lose him?," Willow frowned, then it hit her. "Oh. Oh God."

Giles nodded. "Yes. Oh God," he agreed. "As long as we don't know what caused Angel's change, we won't know if-"

"-it's going to stay that way," Willow finished his sentence, her eyes sadly resting on her best friend who was fighting tears. "Oh, Buffy." She stood, walked over to the blond, wrapping a comforting arm around the Slayer's shoulders.

Buffy's chin came up, "Well, then ... then we have to find it, right? I mean, as soon as we know what caused the change, we know how to deal with it."

Giles started to clean his glasses, while Xander cleared his throat, "Uhm ... hating to state the obvious here. But isn't that seeking the needle in the haystack business again?"

"I don't care," Buffy snapped. "I'm going to find it. I don't like people messing with my boyfriend."

"He wasn't actually your boyfriend then," Xander cut in, then held up his hands when the Slayer glared at him, "Shutting up now."

"Yes, that might be wise," Giles put his glasses back on, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Jenny do you think, you and Willow might be able to find anything on the net?"

"I don't know-," the teacher started to reply.

"We'll try," Willow interrupted her, giving Buffy's shoulder a squeeze.

"Thanks Will," the Slayer gave her a grateful look, then turned towards Jenny. "Thanks."

Startled the gypsy looked up. "Oh. You're welcome," she smiled at the girl, glad Buffy really seemed to forgive her. She knew how important she was for Giles and that there would be no chance for a relationship with the watcher if she couldn't manage to come to terms with Buffy.

"Xander," Giles spoke up again. "You, Cordelia, and Oz, can you go through some books, please. Check for anything that could be connected with a prophecy, or ...," he rubbed his forehead. "Well, check the books." He avoided Buffy's gaze, turned and walked into the stacks.

"You are so pretty. Aren't you mama's pretty girl?"

Spike rolled his eyes, whirled his wheelchair away from his lover. She was getting worse these days. Granted, she didn't whine anymore about Angel, and all in all it was progress, but now she was all over that little puppy he'd given her.

He tried to wiggle his toes in his shoes and stifled a groan of frustration when they didn't obey. He'd been so sure about the stirring in his legs, had felt it again just yesterday, but the damned things wouldn't move.

Patient. One of his minions who'd been a doctor in real life, had said he had to be patient. That it was a matter of time until the feeling came back. Sure, patient, Spike thought bitingly. Well, the minion would never know about it. His ashes were blowing in the wind now.

He didn't want to hear about patience, he didn't want to be bound to a wheelchair, and he didn't want to watch Dru find a new man to satisfy her needs. He was her man, dammit. It had been hard enough to watch her with Angel.

Angel.

The bugger was still gone. He'd tried to get word about him, but there was nothing. He wasn't dead. He would know. Or rather, Dru would know. Spike couldn't see Angel dying without Dru going into la-la-land. So he was sure, Angel was still alive. But where the hell was he? Had they captured him? Had he maybe left Sunnyhell?

No, Angelus would never leave. He was too obsessed with the Slayer. The sexy, little blond. Yeah, a man could get obsessed with a girl like her.

Spike felt a stirring in his pants, and a startled gasp escaped his mouth. He looked at Dru, sitting in the corner, holding the puppy, and the stirring subsided instantly. He shook his head. He had to imagine it. Maybe he was wishing for it too badly, so he was even feeling things that weren't even there.

"Boss."

Annoyed to be interrupted, he snapped. "Yes."

"We found him."

Spike raised a brow, "Found whom?"

"Angelus."

"And?" He hoped his voice didn't sound too urgent.

"He's in his old apartment. And he ... sees the Slayer again."

Spike did a double take, "He, what?"

"The Slayer comes to him regularly. And according to my sources he met with her friends, too."

The blond vampire stared at his minion, then dismissed him with a gesture of his hand. What the hell was going on? It almost sounded as if the Slayer-whipped version was back. Or was Angelus just up for one of his famous mind-games? Damn, he hated being left in the dark. He had to find out what it meant. Soon.

Giles found Jenny at her desk, and when he stepped into her classroom, her head came up with a start. "Rupert." Her voice was slightly breathless, and she quickly turned her face away, but he'd already seen the trace of tears on her cheeks.

"Jenny?," he asked, tentatively stepping closer. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she nodded, keeping her gaze turned away. "Yes, I'm fine."

He reached for a chair, pulled it close, and sat down. His voice was soft, when he said, "No, you're not. Is there anything I can do?"

She gave her head a quick shake, and when she looked at him, a smile was plastered on her face. "Why were you looking for me?," she asked.

"I wanted to know how your web-search was going."

"Oh," she ran a hand through her hair and he could see it was trembling. "Willow is at it. But I'm going to help her any-"

"Jenny," he interrupted her gently, then, after considering it for a moment, he reached out and covered her hand with his. "Don't. Something is bothering you. Please, why don't you trust me?"

"But I do," she insisted, swallowing hard. "I just ..."

"What?," he urged, glad she didn't pull her hand away.

"I called my people again," she admitted finally.

He straightened in his chair, "Oh," was all he said.

She let out a short, unhappy laugh. "Yes. I know I shouldn't have expected anything else, but ... I tried to explain to my cousin. He is ... we grew up together, we played together. I've known him all my life." She shook her head. "And now I suddenly realise I don't know him at all. I can't even recognize his voice. There's so much hatred in it. He never met Angel. But he hates him with a passion... It makes me shiver."

He patted her hand, and when she finally looked at him, he smiled. "Human feelings are a tricky business. And fanaticism is even harder to understand. Your clan, your family grew up hating Angel."

"I grew up there, too," she argued.

"Yes," he nodded. "But then they sent you to watch him. It gave you a new perspective. You expected to see a monster, but you met the man instead."

"I did," she agreed, then sighed. "I wish ... I wish they could see him the way I do. See the grief and shame in his eyes. I bet they would change their mind."

"Would they really?," Giles asked, and Jenny could hear the doubt in his voice.

"Wouldn't they?," she replied with another question. "I suppose we will never know," she added after a moment. With a heavy sigh, she finally pulled her hand away, "I need to get back to Willow. I left her alone too long already." She stood, "Thanks," she said softly.

He stood as well, "Thanks for trusting me with your problems."

She smiled then, and Giles felt warmth spread through him. "You are a wonderful man, Rupert Giles. I'm sorry I didn't trust you from the start. Many things would have been easier."

"Easier, yes," he said quickly, when she was about to turn away. "But ...," his eyes locked to hers, "... that doesn't mean we can't still achieve them."

She held his gaze for a long moment, "I hope so," she whispered finally. With a last smile she slipped from the room.

Part 7

Once again Angel cursed the fact that he was bound to his apartment during daytime. Of course, it wasn't quite true. He could take a nice long walk through Sunnydale's sewer tunnels, enjoy the sceneray of rats, and other annoying creatures. Or maybe he'd run into Spike and Dru. Now wouldn't that be fun?

Shaking his head over his own train of thoughts, Angel sighed. But at the moment the fact that he had to avoid sunlight was driving him nuts. For once he didn't like that he couldn't help the others to find the reason behind the return of his soul. So far they didn't have a cue.

The other problem was that while he was forced to stay in his apartment, he had time to think. Or brood. He'd perfected brooding over the last hundred years and he was used to it by now. Still, at the moment, there were things he didn't want to deal with, yet knew, he had to.

He'd seen Buffy regularly since his soul was returned to him, they talked, hunted together, at night he'd gone to the library, helped with research. It was so good to be with her, be close, but it was also, slowly, driving him insane.

Whenever they were touching each other, they flinched, they were careful not to initiate anything they might not be able to control. Hell, he hadn't even dared to kiss her the last three nights, afraid he might lose control.

Angel wasn't stupid. He was old enough to understand that it couldn't go on like this forever. Being close to her, but not being able to touch her, to express his feelings ... Sooner or later it would destroy the wonderful feelings between them and finally lead to misery. He knew without a doubt that if they didn't find out why his soul came back, and what it meant, he had to leave.

The only problem was, even thinking it was like ripping his heart out of his chest. The mere idea of leaving her had his gut twisted into one gigantic knot. He felt as if he couldn't breathe.

But as painful and unthinkable it was, he knew that somehow he would be able to deal. He was used to guilt, shame, loss, and pain. All those feelings were like old pals for him, had accompanied him for hundred years after all. Somehow he would find a way to go on.

He wasn't so sure where Buffy was concerned.

Angel wasn't vain enough to think he was the only man on earth to make her happy. But he had also seen the look in her eyes when she'd realised his soul was back. They'd been lighting up like beams, staring at him with such disbelief and hope, it had almost broken his heart.

And he also remembered the way she'd clung to him in the library after Xander's attack, after questioning her choice of letting him live. There had been such despair in her voice, and in the way her hands had encircled his neck.

Being as old as he was he had dismissed her interest for him at first, thought it was nothing but teenage infatuation, only to realise that it went far beyond. He knew she loved him, and he also knew that her love was true, strong, and deep. But that was only a part of their connection.

With Angel being a vampire with a soul, he was an outcast amongst his own, a freak, much the same way Buffy felt in-between normal human beings. She'd been fifteen years old when a stranger had told her she wasn't just a girl, but the Slayer, meant to fight evil, forced into a secret identity, to lie to her friends and family.

She had friends now, Willow and Xander, and Giles, her watcher. They knew who she was, but they would never, not ever, be able to understand what she was going through. They had no idea what it meant to be a Slayer, that it was more than some weird secret identity. That there was a dark side to her, she herself just started to discover. That she couldn't just shake off the whole deal and quit.

Angel knew it scared her, he knew that there were times she just wanted to scream and pretend her life wasn't real. He understood that sometimes all she wanted was for it to end, that she'd already been tempted to give in, had seen it in her eyes, more times he wanted to admit even to himself.

The night when she'd found out about the prophecy of her own death had only been a peak, but there were countless other times, when only her strong will, her determination, had saved her from surrender.

And without giving himself too much credit, he knew without a doubt that part of her success so far was his presence in her life. Not just the love they shared, although it was undoubtedly powerful, but first and foremost because he was able to understand her. In a way none of the others could.

He knew all about dark sides, wrong choices, death, and destruction. He knew what it meant to alone, deep inside, in a place nobody else could touch. It was slowly eating you up, scaring your soul, letting it shrivel, and if you weren't careful it could be so damaged after a while, you'd never recognize it again. You'd end up an emotional cripple without even noticing.

He'd been close, living off the rats in New York, or rather existing in a way he didn't care to remember. And then Whistler had stepped into his life, had shown him Buffy, and on a bright sunny day, a blond girl had touched that dark spot deep inside, has pulled him back from the edge, back into life, had given him hope and purpose in a way he'd never thought possible.

She had touched him. And in a way he couldn't explain, he knew without doubt he had touched her, too. They filled each other, completed each other like two halfs of the same coin. Angel had never believed in fate or destiny before, but ever since Buffy had stepped into his life, he was beginning to.

So how could he even contemplate leaving her, knowing all this? And how could he not, knowing that one wrong move might lead to destruction?

Trying to distract himself, he walked to the fridge, stared at the blood stocked there, a sharp reminder of the differences between him and Buffy.

Don't even go there, he ordered himself. There were enough problems already without adding the fact that there were more than 200 years between them. Maybe he should just sleep for a while. But sleeping wasn't so attractive these days either.

Angel had always been haunted by dreams. But now, after his recent slip into soullessness, they were more frequent. They were horrible dreams. Vivid dreams. They were about Buffy, the pain and hurt in her eyes, about the people he'd killed, and there were the images of Dru, and all the things he had done with her.

He didn't want to think about it, but dreams rarely asked for permission. They came, if you wanted them or not.

Realising he'd been staring at the blood in his fridge for at least five minutes, Angel shut the door with a disgusted sound and was about to find a book when he heard a knock at the door.

The only person knocking at his door was Buffy these day, but it was not even noon, which meant she was in school, unless ...

He was at the door with two steps, images flashing through his mind of Buffy being injured or worse, tore it open, only to freeze the moment his eyes fell on his unexpected visitor, "Mrs ...," he gulped, cleared his throat, "Mrs. Summers?"

He saw her struggle, and then a faint smile appeared on her lips, "Angel, right?," she said, her voice slightly rough, betraying the nervousness she was so determined to hide. "I ... uh ... I'd like to talk to you, if it's possible."

Realising he was staring at her, Angel stepped back, inviting her with a gesture. "Sure, come in." When she cautiosly stepped inside, he asked, "Can I get you something? Tea? Some juice? I don't have coffee, I'm afraid."

"No," she shook her head, her hand fidgeting with the straps of her purse. "Thanks, I'm fine. Can we ... could we sit down?"

"Oh." Embarrassed with his lack of manners, he showed her to his sofa, glancing at the curtain that separated his bedroom from the rest of his apartment, glad when he found it closed. "Of course. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's alright. I realise this is ...," she sighed, laughed slightly, "I know this is awkward, and certainly," she nodded, when they reached the sofa, sat down, "unexpected. Maybe it helps if you know, I didn't expect to find myself here with you when I woke up this morning. It was rather ... spontaneous."

Her eyes darted nervously around, seeing everything, yet seeing nothing. They were the same colour as Buffy's, just older, and for a moment Angel wondered if Buffy's eyes would look like hers in about twenty years. He liked the idea. There was something in Joyce's eyes he felt instantly connected to. Maybe the knowledge that life wasn't easy and that things rarely happened the way you wished them to.

"That's no problem," he said, giving her a smile of his own, doing his best not make her more uncomfortable. "I've got time."

"I thought you were in college," she remarked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Not today," he said quickly. "No classes today." He was glad the lie went over his lips so easily. He hated lying, especially to Buffy's mother. But what was he supposed to say? She didn't even know her daughter was the Slayer. Angel had a feeling she wouldn't be so pleased to hear that her daughter was dating a vampire.

"I see. That's fortunate ... for me. Otherwise," she gave another nervous laugh, "we wouldn't be able to talk." Placing her purse at her side, she folded her hands in her lap and looked at him, her eyes suddenly serious. "We need to talk. I ... I'm concerned," she began.

"I realise that-," he replied, but she cut him off, by holding up a hand.

"Please, let me finish."

"Of course," he smiled, "Go on."

"You are ... older than Buffy. I know she seems mature for her age, but she's still a minor, still only seventeen. You are ... what ... twenty-three? I know it doesn't seem much, it's only six years after all, but at your age, it's ... like a lifetime. Experiences are different, expectations too...," she sighed, "I know I'm not handling this well," she said finally, a disgusted expression on her face.

"No," he said softly. "You're handling it just fine. I understand. You're afraid I'm going to take advantage of her. That I might use her and ... hurt her in the end." He smiled when he saw her the startled look in her eyes, "Mrs. Summers, I'm never going to take advantage of Buffy, and I will never use her. I can promise you that. But I cannot promise you I won't hurt her. Because even if I don't want to, it might happen unintentionally, and quite frankly, it scares me to death. Buffy is so precious to me, the mere idea of hurting her, makes me sick. But I also realise that it might happen, and that I might not have the power to prevent it. But I love her. I love her very much."

He saw the surprise in her eyes, the uncertainty, the doubts. "That sounds all very nice," she said finally, "And I'm sure today you mean all those things. But what about tomorrow. What if ... Buffy is only seventeen. You're a grown man...," she trailed off and Angel saw her blush, saw her shift on his sofa.

"You mean what happens if I want more? Mrs Summers, nothing is going to happen if Buffy doesn't want it." And nothing had happened so far. Nothing she didn't want, Angel amended guiltily. The first time she'd initiated it, and the second time ... they had both lost their minds, but it had been consensual again. Both times had been wonderful, mind-blowing, deeply satisfying.

And they might have been everything they'd ever get.

The thought was like a sudden stab wound through his heart. He didn't want to think about the possibility of never being able to touch her again, of never losing himself in her, of never being able to give her passion, to see her face go slack in the aftermath of a climax, to see her eyes shine with pure pleasure.

Suddenly realising that her mother was still sitting opposite to him, he cleared his throat, hoping that none of his thoughts were mirrored in his eyes. It wouldn't exactly help if she knew he was having lusty thoughts about her daughter, while he tried his best to reassure her.

"The problem is," she said slowly, "As I said, Buffy is only seventeen. I'm not sure she always knows what she wants. Or rather, she doesn't always know what's good for her. She's *not* twenty-three, she's a teenager. There might be times when you have to be responsible for both of you."

He tilted his head, "What exactly are you trying to say?"

She let out a pent up breath, ran a hand through her hair, "I don't know," she admitted, "I really don't know." She shook her head, gazed to her left, her eyes falling on the Asian statue standing in a glass cabinet. "Oh, my," she breathed suddenly, giving Angel a startled glance, then standing up, she walked over. "This is beautiful."

He stood ad well, came to stand by her side, "Yes, I always liked it a lot."

"Yes," she looked at the statue in awe. "It's wonderful. Do you have it long?"

"Over a hund- ... I mean ... yes. A long time."

"So it's some sort of family treasure?"

A what? "A family ... uh ... Yes, a family treasure."

"I don't know if Buffy ever told you, but I'm sort of the co-owner of a little art gallery here in Sunnydale. We usually sell the pieces we have, but sometimes ..." She looked at him, Buffy obviously forgotten for the moment, "It is wonderful to see such a beautiful piece with someone who seems to really appreciate it." A little sigh escaped her mouth and Angel stifled a grin.

They might do it under different circumstances, but the two Summers-women made similar sounds of pleasure. The last time he'd heard that particular sound from Buffy ... Bringing his thoughts to a immediate halt, Angel smiled at Joyce and tried his best to forget about Buffy's sounds of pleasure. An instant hard-on was certainly nothing Joyce would find impressive.

Mrs. Summers smiled back, then she giving the statue a last glance she tore herself away from the piece, picked up her purse. "I need to go now. I have an appointment for lunch with someone who's interested to buy several pieces from our gallery." She bit her lower lip, much the same way Buffy did, and again Angel was reminded of the similarities between them.

Letting go of her lip, she sighed, "I was really determined to hate you for seducing my teenager daughter," she said finally, laughing slightly, "And now," she sighed again, "You're not at all what I thought."

He grinned slightly, "Is that good or bad?"

"When Buffy told me you were a college student I thought you were one of those boys you usually find at frat parties. But now I find you entirely different." Suddenly she straightened her shoulders, a stern look entering her eyes, "That doesn't mean I've changed my mind completely. If you'll hurt her, I'm going to kill you."

He stifled another grin, "Yes, ma'am."

"But ... I can see why Buffy is so drawn to you. And I have to say that I didn't expect her to have such good taste." She took a deep breath, her face once again softened by a smile, "So what I'm saying is ... I'd like to know you better. How about coming for lunch next weekend?"

Lunch? Not! "Make it dinner and we have a deal," he replied, opening the door for her. "I have to work during the days on weekends." Another lie, but he could hardly tell her the truth.

"Oh. Of course. Yes, dinner would be fine," she smiled again. "Make the date with Buffy. I'm sure you're going to see her soon."

"Probably."

"It was nice talking to you, Angel. I find myself looking forward to see you again."

He chuckled, "I'm glad."

"I thought you were a monster, you know," she joked, climbing up the stairs. "I'm glad I was wrong."

The door closed and she was gone. Angel shook his head, leaned against his apartment door, chuckled again. But the smile slipped almost immediately from his face. She didn't think he was a monster. She had no idea.

Part 8

"You are going to die, girl."

Buffy sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, the stake firmly clutched in her fingers, "This is getting so old. Really, I wonder if there's a book for sale with all this stuff. 'How to annoy a Slayer with dumb words'."

"But you are going to die," the vampire insisted, grinning evilly. He pointed behind his back where three others appeared.

"Are you gonna scare me to death, or what?," Buffy said flippantly, silently assessing the situation. They didn't seem very old. It wouldn't be easy, but she had no doubt she'd be able to take them.

"Bold words, little girl," the second vampire, a female, hissed. "I hope you made your testimony."

"Damn, I knew I forgot something, before I left tonight," the blond replied. A smile crept across her face, "On a second thought. I think it's not necessary. You look like real losers."

At that two of the four vampire attacked. She staked the first one easily, then tried to get rid of the second who had his arm around her throat in an attempt to apply pressure to her windpipe.

Buffy managed to shake him off, turned and without looking her foot shot out, connecting with a hard chest.

"Umph."

Her eyes focussed instantly, and her eyes widened in shock, "Angel!"

The dark-haired vampire staggered backwards, one hand clutched over the spot where she'd hit him. He tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace, "Buffy, hi."

"Oh God," she rushed over, the vampires momentarily forgotten. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

"I know." This time he managed to grin. Seeing her worried gaze, he touched her arm, "Hey, it's no big. It's okay."

She bit her lower lip, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he assured her, then shoved her away when the next vampire attacked.

"Well," Buffy grinned, trying to get rid of the vampire dust on her clothes. "That was fun."

"Yeah," Angel agreed, one hand rubbing the sore spot on his chest.

She was instantly concerned, "Are you sure, you're alright?"

"I'm fine." He smiled, "Buffy, I'm okay. It hurts, sure. But it'll heal. It always does. I'm a vampire, remember."

"Good. Fine." The concern turned to anger, "Are you crazy, sneaking up on me like that? I could've staked you."

That brought a grin on his face, "No way. You wouldn't do such a thing. Besides, I trust your reflexes. You're too good."

She gave him a long, hard look, then rolled her eyes. Finally a laugh broke out. "You *are* crazy," she stated. "What are you doing here? I thought we'd meet later at Restfield."

Suddenly uncomfortable he averted her eyes.

"Angel?"

"I ... uh ...," he stammered, knowing she wouldn't like the reason he'd come early. Finally he took a deep breath, "I was concerned about you."

"That's so sweet," she said to his surprise, smiling.

"It is?"

"Uh-huh. I love you all protective It's sexy."

"Sexy, huh?," he smiled sheepishly.

"Which of course isn't a safe subject. Especially now. With you and me. Alone. In a graveyard."

"No," he agreed, sighed, took a step back. "That's something we have to talk about, Buffy."

"No," she shook her head emphatically, then pouting she stepped closer to him, "'cause talking about those things would be bad. Really, really bad."

Angel pressed his hands against her shoulders, holding her away from him, "Buffy-"

"No," she insisted, tempted to stomp her foot to the ground. "Angel," she whined, "We're together. Here. We could just ... hold each other ... like friends. Good friends. Loving friends. But still, just holding. That's safe, don't you think?" She gave him a hopeful smile.

He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head, letting out an audible breath, "We cannot just pretend the problem doesn't exist."

"That's not what we are doing," she said firmly, "We'll be careful. Angel ... it's the first time we're alone together for ...," she threw her hands in the air, "days. And it's not as if we're jumping each other now. Tearing each others clothes off."

He had to swallow hard, pushed away the images her words had caused in his mind, his whole body instantly hard. "Buffy, this is too serious to just ignore it."

"I already told you, I don't want to talk about it," she snapped, turning away.

"Buffy," he said softly, reaching out for her, but not daring to touch, "We have to talk about this."

"NO," she replied defiantly, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I. Don't. Want. To. Understand? There is nothing to talk about. Because if we do, it's going to be some big, ugly crying feast. You're going to tell me how much of a problem this is going to be. That this is all wrong. Knowing you, you might even consider leaving me for my own good."

She expected him to argue, but when he didn't say a word, when there came no sound from him, she felt her stomach drop through the bottom. She whirled around, her eyes watering, "That's it, right? That's what you were thinking about. Leaving. God, Angel." Angrily she wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, her chin coming up. "Well, I won't let you."

"Buffy-"

"Don't Buffy me," she cried, anger blazing through the tears in her hazel eyes, "I cannot believe you're even contemplating something so stupid. Don't you see that I need you? That I love you? Doesn't it mean anything to you?"

"How can you say that?," he shot back, the pain in her eyes almost tearing him apart. She stood there her clothes and hair dishevelled, tears streaming down her face, and all he wanted was to take her in his arms and never let go. But at the same time the rational part of his brain told him he mustn't.

He was suddenly furious with the situation he couldn't control, furious at her for not understanding what he was going through. And the words just tumbled from his lips, angry, desperate, like a volcano exploding without warning, words he wouldn't have thrown at her under different circumstances, "How can you stand there, knowing all the things that happened and ask me that? All I want, all I dream about, is to stay with you forever. But I also know what happens if I turn again. Or have you already forgotten what happened? The way I hurt you? The way I killed? The way I threatened your friends? *I* cannot forget. Because I was there. I dream about it. Night after night." He ran a hand through his hair, "And as long as I can prevent it, it won't happen again. Not. Ever. Again."

"Angel-," she whispered, hating the pain etched on his features, wanting to reach out, not daring to.

He went on as if she hadn't said a word, "Don't you think it's tearing me apart. Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I'm saying this to hurt you? Don't you think I'd give everything to change this? But I can't. We don't know why I got my soul back, Buffy. And as long as we're not certain, we cannot risk this. It's too dangerous. Do you have any idea how it feels to be afraid to be too happy? To be afraid to smile, afraid it might be the last time you do it with your soul intact. Have you ever thought about that?"

His voice was loud and angry in the end and Buffy flinched at the pain underneath. God, what kind of a selfish brat was she? She had never thought about it that way. Never seen what it meant for him. To live with that kind of fear. She wanted to say something, anything, to help him, but she couldn't find the words. And because she couldn't, because she felt helpless, the way he did, anger rose.

She saw him taking a deep breath, his voice calmer now, controlled, already angry with himself for bringing up the subject up in the first place, "And besides. I'm not saying I'm going to leave. Not right now, anyway. Not before we haven't tried to find a solution for this mess."

And that more than anything, that ability to calm down, to shut down his anger and his feelings, let her own anger explode all of a sudden. Deep inside she knew her feelings were irrational, knew that tomorrow she would hate herself for doing this, but at the moment, just this moment, she didn't give a damn. The pain inside of her was so deep, so raw and all she wanted was to lash out.

"Oh," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "So what you're saying is that I might have a boyfriend in four weeks time, but maybe he'll be gone? Well, that really is a big help. You know what? Why don't you just leave? Why don't you just pack your bags and leave? It's not that I need you anyway. I mean, I've been fine without you here. You made the disappearing act before and I was fine. I'll be again."

The pain was like a holy sword slicing through his insides, and Angel managed to stifle a gasp the very last moment. In a muddled part of his brain he understood what she was doing right now, that the words were spoken out of anger and pain, that she didn't really mean them. Still he wanted to grab her and shake her until she came to her senses.

And maybe if he'd done exactly that, Buffy might have been able to see through the red mist that swam before her eyes. But instead she saw him shut down, his eyes going blank. And it was too much. All of a sudden she couldn't bear it, couldn't stand him standing there, as if nothing mattered, while she was bleeding inside.

Her palm connected with his cheek with a loud slapping noise. She gasped, only now realising what she had done. She saw him reach out, took a step back. If he touched her now, she'd fall apart. "I hate you," she whispered, blinking the tears away, "I hate you," she repeated, then turned and ran.

He wanted to follow her, wanted to shout at her, wanted ... he wanted so many things, but he did nothing, just stood, rooted in place, sighed as he looked after her while she sprinted away from him through the cemetery. It was for the best, he assured himself, taking a deep breath. He'd done enough for tonight. He shouldn't have started anything, not yet. Not when he didn't know for himself what was the right thing to do.

With a final sigh he turned away, his steps and heart heavy when he made his way to his apartment.

He was so deep in thoughts, he never saw the figure behind the bushes, the figure that overheard the whole conversation, the figure that turned and left the cemetery into the other direction.

And he never saw the shadow following him into the alley.

Willow had been dreaming something really nice and comforting, when there was suddenly a knock on her bedroom window. Her dream had been about Oz, and then had shifted to Xander. It was a bit disturbing, but she didn't mind. She'd been dreaming about Xander for so long, one more dream couldn't do any harm. They were less frequent these days, and that made her feel a whole lot better.

So when she was jerking upright, she was annoyed for a moment, being pulled out of a beautiful dream, and needed a moment, blinking her eyes, yawning, to understand what was happening.

"Wh-what?," she mumbled.

The knock came again, and then she heard a muffled voice, "Willow. Come on, open up."

She blinked again, only a shadow visibly on her balcony, "Who is this?"

"It's me. Xander."

"Xander?" She pulled back her blanket, shifted her legs over the edge, and fishing for her bunny slippers, stood. "I'm coming," she whispered, listening for a moment, afraid her parents might be awake. Content when she didn't hear anything, she shuffled to the door, opened it, "Xander? Is something wrong? It's in the middle of the night."

"I know that," he replied, "It's just ... I need to talk to you."

"Uhm ... hate to state the obvious, but one usually talks during the day. Night-time is sleeping time."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, then not waiting for an invitation he pushed the door wide open and strolled past her into her bedroom.

Willow quietly but firmly closed the door, a bit overwhelmed by his behaviour, "You know the Rosenberg-rule about boys in the bedroom, right?"

"Oh, come on, Will. I've been in your bedroom more times I can count."

"That was before you became aware of the differences between girls and boys," she remarked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"That's what your parents like to think," he joked, "Truth is, I matured early. Besides, Angel was here. You told me yourself."

"That was an emergency, and besides, my mother never knew."

"You have a boyfriend now," he pointed out.

"Who my mother knows nothing about. It was hard enough for her to see her only daughter wearing a cross around her neck. She would have a heart-attack, knowing I'm dating someone who plays in a band." She grimaced, "If we'd actually talk, that is."

"So Oz never ..."

Willow sighed, slowly getting annoyed. She was tired, her eyes hurt from being glued to the computer screen for a whole day, and her bed had never looked so tempting. "That would be a big no-no," she replied. "Of course he never...." She reaised a brow, "Why?""

He shrugged, turned towards her desk, "Just curious," he said, deliberately trying to sound casual, not wanting to betray the joy he felt that Oz and Willow hadn't been intimate so far. He didn't love Willow, well, he loved her, but didn't love-love her. It was more like a brother loved his sister. And like all big brothers, and he felt he was exactly that, he didn't like the idea of Willow getting naked with a man. Any man.

"Okay, Xand. It's in the middle of the night. You're standing in my bedroom. Spill it."

He whirled around, facing her, surprised by the sudden change in her attitude. "This is about Buffy-"

"Now that is news," Willow said sarcastically, "Xander's thinking about Buffy."

"-*and* Angel. About the whole Buffy and Angel keep your hands off of each other stuff."

"Ah," the redhead nodded, suddenly angry. "Well, if you came to ask if you might have a chance with her now that Angel might be out of the picture? Forget it. That's so not going to happen. He's still around. And even if he left, Buffy doesn't feel that way for you."

"I know," he bit out. "That's not ...," he took a deep breath. He had come to talk to her about something important, not to fight. "That's not why I came. I mean, sure, I still think she's attractive and all. But *hello*, I've got an Cordlia now, and besides, Buffy is all lovey-dovey about Angel, every idiot can see that. Not ... that I think I'm an idiot ...," he sighed, then muttered, "although by dating Cordy it might have just proven that."

"Huh?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. Anyways. I just happened to be in the cemetery ... thought I might give Buffy a hand ...," he saw Willow look at him knowingly, and shook his head again, "Not to impress her. Hardly. Just ... you know ... giving a helping hand, or rather, the ear of a friend... Well, anyway. I was standing there and she was fighting those vamps and then Angel showed up-"

"Are they okay?"

"They are fine. Will, there were four vamps. Against Buffy *and* Angel. They didn't stand a chance. But that's still not ... Afterwards they were talking and Angel ... he said something about maybe leaving Sunnydale, and she started shouting, then crying, it was a really big fighting thing, and then she ran away. And I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but ... it didn't make me feel all better. In fact, it made me feel bad. Really bad. The Buffster's been crying far too much lately."

Willow nodded, "I agree. But Xand, we're trying already. We're working all the time to find something to help them. I don't know what else we can do."

He looked at her a long moment, then his shoulders slumped in defeat, "I know. It's ... just," he shrugged weakly, "I really feel bad. I thought if Buffy would finally see that Angel isn't what she needs and he's gone I'd do the Snoopy-dance, but instead I feel really bad, just thinking he might leave. When they were just fighting, I wanted to jump in and hit their heads for behaving so stupid." He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "And I can't do anything to help them. What does that make me?"

Her expression was warm, "A good friend."

"Friend? I feel like a loser. We have to do something, Will. We cannot just stand there and see it happen. I hate to say it but it's gonna destroy her. Not on the outside, you know. She'll show us the happy-Buffy-face. But inside she's gonna die."

Willow couldn't hide the surprise she felt at his words, "What happened to you, Xand? When did you get so wise?"

He shrugged again, feeling slightly embarrassed. He picked up a bear from her bed, squeezed it, then threw it back down, "So," he took a deep breath, "Any ideas how to help them?"

Part 9

Giles looked up from the book he'd been reading for the last two hours, a disturbing writing about gypsy-courses and gypsy-magic, when the library doors swung open. Usually he wouldn't have cared. Pupils and teachers happened to come into the library, and they usually announced when they needed his help. But because it wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning, it was somewhat surprising to hear the door open.

"I should have forced you to leave last night."

Miss Calender was standing before him, her expression disapproving, her hands firmly planted at her hips, she was dressed in a yellow blouse and a beige mini-skirt, both hugging her slim figure perfectly.

Giles had to swallow before his upbringing kicked in and he remembered his manners. "Jenny," he stood, swallowed again.

"Good morning, Rupert." Her gaze swept over his dishevelled hair, his rumpled clothes, his red-rimmed eyes, "You look terrible."

He grimaced, self-consciously running a hand trough his hair, making it stand up even more, "I ... uh ... didn't expect you."

Jenny sighed, "Yes, I can see that." She reached for the book lying open on the table, "The secrets of the gypsies?", and looked at him quizzically, "I thought we came to the conclusion that the original curse had nothing to do with Angel's soul this time?"

He stared at her for a moment as if he hadn't heard a word she'd been saying, then suddenly pulled off his glasses, agitatedly rubbing them with the hem of his shirt. "Yes, yes, I know. It's just that ...," he paused, put his glasses back on, "I can see what this is doing to Buffy. I never thought ...," he trailed off, picked up the book, turned towards the stacks.

Miss Calender looked at the tense set of his shoulders, the stiff way he was moving, "You're tired, Rupert. You shouldn't do this. You're not eighteen anymore. Your body needs sleep."

"Oh thank you so much," came his sarcastic reply from behind the shelves, "I always dreamt about beautiful women telling me I was old."

It was only a casual remark, but her heart suddenly beat furiously in her chest, and her voice hitched when she asked, "You think I'm beautiful?"

He returned from the stacks, walked into his office, a puzzled expression in his eyes, "Of course, that was never a question." Again, running a hand through his hair, Giles glanced at the clock, "Talking about sleepless nights. What are you doing here so early?"

She had to clear her throat, finding it difficult to get her mind back on track, "Uhm ... I thought I'd hit the internet for a while. Computers usually work better in the morning. Not as much traffic, you know."

"Oh," he nodded, returning from his office "well, I don't want to keep you. We need all information we can get. I will try to find something in here," he held up the watcher's diary he'd been looking for. "That's the watcher who was in charge of the Slayer the year Angel's soul was returned for the first time. I cannot believe I missed this." He shook his head, angry at his own lapse.

Jenny tried not to be hurt by his obvious dismissal, but she couldn't help but feel a painful twist in her gut. He was sitting again, his head buried into the journal, he seemed to have already forgotten about her. And although she knew that he was merely concerned about Buffy, a girl he was responsible for, his Slayer, her heart was heavy when she turned and left the library.

Buffy leaned against the side of the shower, warm water running over her bare skin, her head pounding as if she was nursing a class A hangover. Not that she really knew a hangover. She had never had one, but feeling as if someone was hammering inside her head, this had to be was what a hangover felt like.

It was all Angel's fault of course.

Her hands clenched into fists, while she shut her eyes, tried to pretend the last night never happened. But unfortunately she couldn't. The night had happened. She had slapped him, had said all those hurtful words about being able to live without him.

She almost laughed out loud, and without warning tears welled up in her eyes, mingling with the water as soon as they escaped from her lids.

Damn the man. How could he even think about leaving Sunnydale? Leaving her? Was he too blind to see that they were meant to be together? She wanted to hit him all over again, instantly hating herself for the thought.

She would never forget the empty, desperate look in his eyes while he'd tried to explain his feelings. His dreams. His fears. And instead of taking him in her arms, she'd freaked. Ran away like a stupid little girl. No wonder he was thinking about leaving her. Why would he want to stay with her? She was behaving like a brat.

The pounding in her head intensified, and, keeping all movement to a minimum, so her head wouldn't explode, she turned off the faucet and wiped the water from her face. She felt like hell, and she'd made a mess of her relationship with Angel last night. Maybe she should just die on the spot and get over with it.

With an inward sigh she managed to drag the towel off the Plexiglas door and made a weak attempt to dry herself, but an acute case of motion sickness had her sitting down on the closed toilet. School was looking less tempting by the minute.

"Buffy, are you still in there? It's getting late."

Her mom. "I know, I'm coming," she replied, standing up again. The mirror above the sink was fogged with steam, and Buffy made a swipe to remove it. She wasn't a pretty sight. Her eyes were red-rimmed, puffy from crying the whole night. She had dark smudges underneath, and her wet hair was flattened against her head.

Groaning she leaned her forehead against the mirror. Well, makeup would do the trick, and gritting her teeth, she vowed she'd make it through the day. She wouldn't burden her friends with her problems. They were doing enough already. There was no way she'd drag them into the mess that was her love-life.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the blues was gone and replaced by determination. She was the Slayer after all. She would live through this.

Even if it killed her.

"So what does it say?" Xander stared expectantly at the computer screen where Willow was busy scrolling down the pages of the site she'd just found on the net.

Not taking her eyes from the text, she raised a brow, "Maybe if you hadn't flunked French you'd know."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, maybe. But I think it's not the time to discuss my efforts at school."

"Efforts?"

"Alright," he crossed his arms, "What's this? I thought we were trying to find a way to help Buffy and Angel, and all of a sudden this is about me?"

She grinned, "I really like the sudden change in your attitude towards Buffy and Angel. Given time you and he might be bestest buds."

He straightened, "WHOA! Slow down, will you. I never said something about being his bud. I still hate the guy. He's a pain in the but. This is about the Buffster."

"Sure." Willow stifled a laugh the last possible moment. Xander was so predictable. It was cute.

"I'm not gonna change my attitude. It's just …," he trailed off, sunk back in his chair.

Willow shook her head and sighed. Xander would always be Xander. She didn't love him less because of it, maybe it was part of the reason she'd always liked him so much, had once even believed herself in love with him. She shook her head again. Those thoughts wouldn't lead anywhere. "It says something about gypsy magic. About hidden meanings, unexpected outcome."

"Bingo!," Xander shouted, almost falling off his chair.

"Don't get your hopes too high. Just because I found a new site doesn't mean ...," she trailed off, a frown appearing on her forehead. "Hey ... this is interesting."

"What?," he asked excitedly, "What?"

"It says that in the middle ages the gypsies used spells to determine the sex of their children."

"Well, isn't that a cozy picture? Xander and Willow all on their twosome."

Xander's head snapped around at the sound of the voice, and his eyes fell on Cordelia who was leaning at the door. "Cordy."

The brunette raised a brow, "Secret meetings in the computer room, tsk, tsk, tsk." She sighed mockingly, "Willow, Willow."

Her boyfriend shook his head in irritation, then dismissing her remark, he turned his concentration back at the redhead, her last words just now sinking in. "Wait a moment. Did you just say what I think you said?"

"Wha- what?," the young witch stammered, her face beet-red, her eyes nervously flickering from Cordelia to Xander and back.

"That they could determine the sex of the children?"

"Uh ...," Willow managed to shake off her embarrassment, "Yes. Why?"

"Because that's way creepy," Cordelia replied in Xander's place. "I wonder if there's something those weirdos can't do."

"Like, say, building something into a curse nobody else can find?," Willow thought aloud, all business again.

"Nobody can find what?," came another voice from the doorway.

The redhead peered around Xander's shoulder and her face lit up, "Hey, Buffy."

"Hey," the Slayer said, summoning a fake smile of her own. "What's up? Watcha doing here?"

"I think we just found something," Willow announced excitedly, "This," she pointed at the screen, "is about curses and stuff. And it might be exactly what we've been looking for."

Buffy looked at her for a moment, then shrugged, already turning back to the door, "Curses, huh? Well, do what you want. I have to find Giles. I suppose there's real work for me somewhere, not just weird magic, nobody's really interested in."

The three remaining friends gazed at the now empty doorway, the spot where Buffy'd disappeared a moment ago, and while Willow and Xander exchanged a meaningful glance, a frown appeared on Cordelia's forehead. "What's her deal? I thought she'd jump like crazy, and now she's not even interested? Can I say 'huh'?"

Xander looked at the screen, then at the redhead, "Maybe you should print that out, so Giles can look at it. And Miss Calender." He stood, walked over to his girlfriend, who still wore an expression as if a ghost had just walked past her, and draped an arm around her shoulder, "And now, if you're really nice," he grinned when her frown turned into a glare, "But even if you're not, I'm going to explain you what's going on."

Angel groaned, his head feeling like lead on top of his body, his lids so heavy he had problems to lift them at all. The last time he'd felt like this, he'd been heavily drunk the night before. But he knew for sure, he hadn't touched alcohol last night, although he'd felt severely tempted, and as vampires didn't catch colds as a rule, it had to be something entirely different.

"Wakey, wakey."

The sound of the well known voice and the fact that he couldn't move either his arms or legs left only one possibility.

"I can't believe the bloke's been asleep all the time. How much the hell did you give him?"

"Enough to keep him out for a while." Another voice intruded Angel's fuzzy mind. "We didn't care for him waking up while we carried him over here. He's strong."

"Strong, my ass. He's just another vampire," Spike shouted, the anger clearly audible in his voice.

"Well, you've got him now, boss," the other voice hissed.

"Yeah," Spike sighed, "I've got him now."

"Spike," Angel said wearily, blinking against the artificial light shining directly into his eyes. "I should have known."

"Why? Because you're so bloody stupid you never saw that blow coming?," he asked, grinning. "Let me give you an advice, mate. Never let your love-life interfere with business."

The other vampire closed his eyes for a moment, then, opening them again, he chuckled slightly, "Spike, maybe you need an advice." He let his eyes trail down the blonde's sitting form, "Because as I see it, your love-life is still non-existent."

"You-," Spike started to hiss, but when a feminine hand settled on his shoulder, he calmed instantly.

"Don't let him make you mad, Spike," Drusilla smiled, the insanity momentarily vanished from her eyes. "He likes to play." She walked over to the bound vampire, her long, red fingernails trailing over his cheeks, "He always liked to play. Didn't you, Daddy?"

"Don't call me that, Dru. I'm not your daddy. Your father's dead."

"That's because you killed him," she replied, lowering to her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "You killed them all. Because," she turned her head, looked at Spike, "he wanted me just for himself. Just for himself. But then the bad gypsies came and took him away. And now the little girl did the same."

She let go of Angel, who gazed at her through narrowed eyes, "What are you talking about?," he demanded.

"Shhhh," she put a finger on her mouth, giggled like a schoolgirl, her eyes glazing over, "We cannot tell. That's a secret."

"Dru." The dark-haired vampire frowned at her. What on earth was she talking about? Maybe she knew things he didn't. Couldn't. She was psychic after all.

She giggled again, started to sing, and knowing she wouldn't be any help now, he turned his head at Spike, "What the hell is going on?," he demanded.

The blond vampire grinned, "As Dru said before. We're not going to tell. It's going to be a surprise. Just for you."

"A surprise?" Now why was he so certain he wouldn't like it, Angel thought sarcastically.

"Yeah, a surprise." Spike chuckled, "You'll see. As soon as our special guest arrives, you'll see." He whirled his wheelchair away, his laughter sounding through the whole factory.

Part 10

Giles lifted his head from the book when the words blurred before his eyes. He had a hard time remembering the last time he'd felt so old and useless. With a sigh he shoved the book away, took off his glasses, and stifled a groan of pleasure when he was finally able to rub his burning eyes. He was so tired, he wanted nothing more than sleep for 24 hours straight. But at the same time he was so wired, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew the others felt the same way. Jenny had looked tired this morning, too.

Jenny. Her face appeared before his inner eye. He knew he'd hurt her this morning. He remembered the pain in her gaze, and hated himself for causing it. She wasn't responsible for the fact that he felt like the greatest failure in the watchers' history right now. But the problem was that she was the embodiment of what had caused the whole mess, and somehow, standing before him, like she had this morning, after a night of fruitless research, he'd felt the urge to show her he hadn't forgiven completely. And of course guilty as she felt, she'd taken the blow without even attempting to defend herself.

Damn

He felt like a slob. As if she wasn't hurt already, guilt weighting heavily on her conscience, deserted by her family and people. Giles sighed loudly. Maybe he could go out, find a puppy and kick it really hard. He sighed wearily, rubbed a hand over his tired face. He should go an find her, apologize, but somehow he couldn't muster the energy. He would talk to her later, make her understand that he wasn't really angry with her, that … he was a stupid idiot who had used her to get rid of his frustration.

"You don't look so good."

His head came up sharply, startled by the sudden intrusion, he managed a small smile, "Good Morning, Buffy." He was tempted to tell her that she didn't look so great herself, but doubted it would sit well with her. Besides, he'd already done his fill for a day, he thought regretfully.

"You've been here the whole night?," she asked, sitting on the edge of the table, her feet dangling in the air.

"Yes. Yes, I've … tried to find something." He sighed, "But unfortunately …"

"It's okay, Giles," she said gently. "I know you're doing all you can."

She sounded almost bored, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?," she asked, her face expressionless. "What should be wrong, Giles? No, no, everything's fine. Peachy."

He gave her another irritated glance, then nodded, "Good, good. How was patrol?"

Something flickered through her eyes at that, but it was gone so quickly, he wasn't sure he'd imagined it.

"Okay. Staked four vamps," she replied.

"I see," he nodded again, "Did you see ... Angel?"

Her head snapped around sharply, and for a moment he saw her eyes resting on him speculatively, before her cool demeanor was back in place. "Why do you ask?"

"He wasn't at home, which is highly unlikely regarding the fact he has to avoid sunlight. I thought you might know where he was."

A frown appeared on her forehead, and she had to swallow, then - almost nervously - licked her lips, "What do you mean … he wasn't at home?"

"I tried to call him. He took several books with him a couple of days ago. I wanted to ask if he found anything," Giles explained, his eyes never leaving Buffy's face. Something just wasn't right here. She was too cool, too controlled, when he expected her to panic or at least reveal fear for the man she'd come to love. And that she did love Angel Giles didn't doubt for a moment. Not anymore. He might have thought - at first - that it wasn't more than just a wild crush between vampire and Slayer, but over the last months he'd seen that there was a lot more than that.

"So he wasn't home," she said flippantly, pushing herself off of the table, starting to pace, "So what? It's not a big deal. Angel's old enough. It's not as if we're responsible for him. He can do what he want. If he wants to leave…," her voice cracked and he saw her blink rapidly, but after a moment she had herself back under control, turned and looked at him, "So can we skip Angel for a while, please? I came to ask if there's something I have to slay?"

Taken aback by her attitude, but more concerned than ever, he had to blink before he could answer. "Slay? Uhm … well, not that I know. I mean there are Spike and Drusilla of course, but they are too dangerous to take them on your own. Maybe you and Angel-"

"Alright," she cut him off, "nothing to slay then. Does that mean I can have a free afternoon? Maybe a free night?"

"A free night?," he asked confused.

"Yeah," she grinned, but it didn't seem genuine. There was something in the depth of her eyes, he couldn't quite grasp. "You know, a night off. I could … date for a change. I'm sure there's some guy who's just dying to go out with me. Or I can just dance."

"Dance?" He stared at her as if she'd spoken in Swaheli. A date? With some guy? Buffy? Something very odd was going on. "Buffy, is something wrong? Did something happen last night?"

"I already told you, everything's peachy. Well, if you've got nothing for me, I'll go. People to see, stuff to learn." Waving at him, she was gone before he could say another word.

The swinging doors had barely closed behind her, when Xander, Cordelia, and Willow stormed into the library, successfully drawing Giles' attention their way.

"Giles," the redhead said breathlessly, beaming as if she'd jus won the lottery. "You won't believe what we found."

"What Willow found," Xander cut in, looking proudly at his friend, ignoring the glare he received from his girlfriend.

The young witch smiled at him, "Thanks, Xand. But we actually found it together. I mean, sure, I found it on the net, but Xander hat the idea, and brought the Cheerios and stuff to keep me going."

They exchanged another bright smile, and Giles felt his patience fading. "Yes, well, that is all very interesting. But could you maybe now enlighten me? What did you find?"

"This." With the one word, Willow held out several sheets for him, obviously a print-out from the computer.

He eyed it sceptically, "And what is 'this'?"

Willow's beam faltered, "That's what we've been looking for. An explanation for what happened to Angel …," she bit her lower lip, " well, maybe not exactly, but it does explain a lot. And could help us to understand the whole thing."

Giles stared at her, not quite able to believe what he'd heard. An explanation? A help to understand? "Good God," he exclaimed, shaking off his daze, and reaching for the pages. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," the redhead nodded, holding her breath while the watcher was scanning the text. "I … I mean I'm not sure sure, but still …" She shot Xander a nervous glance, but he was looking at Giles as well and didn't see it.

"Willow," the watcher's voice was filled with awe, "this is … how did you find it?" He looked up, his eyes holding hope for the first time in days.

"Uhm … I … well, I used different search patterns this time. And there it was."

"God, do you know what that could mean? For Buffy?." They heard the emotion in Giles' voice and they gazed at each other, when the watcher suddenly frowned, "Although …," he looked up at the three teenagers, "Buffy was just here, you know. And she was acting … I don't want to say strange, but it was decidedly untypical for her."

"I know what you mean. She's beyond weird. When Willow told her about what she'd found, she wasn't interested the tiniest bit." Cordelia shook her head, "I think that's rude. Okay, that's so very much like her, but still … I mean Willow's supposed to be her friend." Ignoring the exasperated looks of the others, she went on, "Anyways. But of course that was before Xander told me the whole story about the big Buffy-Angel fight last night."

"What?" Giles eyes were instantly alert. "What fight? What are you talking about?"

Xander gave his girlfriend a last suffering glance, then shaking his head he turned to Giles, "I was out there last night. In the cemetery. And after staking four vamps, Buffy and Angel got into this big fight." He told her he was thinking about leaving Sunnydale because of the curse and because he doesn't want to lose his soul again. At first she didn't want to listen but soon they were yelling and …," he ran a hand through his hair, "Well, it wasn't nice. So I went to Willow and-"

"You went to Willow?," Cordelia yelped suddenly, "In the middle of the night?"

"Uh … yeah," he admitted, "But I've been in her bedroom before, lots of times actually. Okay, so that was before the whole I-know-what-I-can-do-with-girls-if-they-are-naked thing, but…," he trailed off, grinned when the brunette glared at him.

"You think this is funny," she hissed, grabbing her backpack she'd deposed on the table. "Think again, Harris." With that she turned and stomped out of the library.

Willow looked after her, open mouthed, "I think she was jealous," she muttered, not able to believe what she'd just observed.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, then suddenly his face split into a broad grin, "Yeah."

"I think," Giles said thoughtfully, "This was more about trust, than jealousy."

Xander gave him an annoyed glance, "You really know how to destroy a guy's illusions, don't you?"

"She was hurt because you went to see Willow instead of her," the watcher said almost in awe. "There might be hope for her after all."

There were only a few things Angel hated more than being kidnapped and bound. There were things, he was sure, but right now he wasn't able to remember a lot of them. Being kidnapped by Spike and Drusilla, however, was definitely worse.

He could still remember the last time. He would hardly forget the blisters on his chest from the Holy Water she'd poured over his chest, and although the pain had been excruciating, he'd endured it, knowing that somehow she had a right to do it to him. He had, after all, killed her family, driven her insane, and turned her when she'd tried to escape to a convent. That, he had to admit, gave you a right to do many things, and pouring Holy Water over a vampire wasn't the worst he could imagine.

But he would also never forget the way Buffy had come to his rescue. Like an unstoppable force, powerful, determined, and oh so beautiful, and although he'd been barely conscious at the time, he'd admired her nevertheless. To see her fighting Spike, never backing down, the blond vampire flying through the air, never standing a chance against her strength and wrath … if he hadn't been helplessly in love with her already, he would've fallen in love with her that very instant.

Drusilla's singing voice floated at his ear from the other room. She was singing the same song for hours, always repeating the well-known lines, and Angel knew that she'd once again gone to la-la land, where only her confused thoughts were present, where nothing could hurt her, disturb her peace.

A sharp pang of guilt went through him. Once, without his soul, he had thought her beautiful during those periods, her eyes far away, her face relaxed, an unearthly smile on her lips. She was a beautiful woman, had always been, but she had also been confused and frightened by the her gift, the ability to see certain things. She should have been treated with love, understanding, and care. Instead a cruel vampire had used her for his sick mind-games.

Bile rose in his throat when he thought about the night. The night he'd seen her for the first time. He'd been fascinated by her, had felt something was different, precious. And by the startled and frightened look she'd given him, she'd sensed the difference in him, too. He'd been thrilled by the idea of playing with her, had even admired her for a while, for her beauty if nothing else, but he had never loved her. Had never been capable of it. Love had been foreign to him, even after the gypsies had returned his soul. He'd been too guilt-ridden to even contemplate a feeling like love.

Only the view of a blond girl on the steps of a highschool in L.A. had made it possible. Her eyes, the light he saw in them that afternoon in the sun, had shifted something inside of him, had brought feelings to the surface, he'd long thought forgotten, feelings he didn't know he had at all.

Love.

It was such a little word, and held such power. Such magnificence. It could change the world, could even make monsters feeling human. He'd lived from the rats in the streets of New York, had been in possession on his soul all along, but it hadn't mattered. Nothing mattered, but the images of death and torture, of blood and pain. How could he be anything but a monster, he who had to avoid the sun, avoided people in fear his hunger might rise, in fear he might snap and do the unforgivable. It was one thing to live with the memories of an evil demon, enough to know that he'd been too shallow, too stupid, to question what Darla offered him that night so long ago in Galway.

He thought about his father, the disappointment in the old man's eyes whenever they fell on his son. He was a failure, nothing else. But instead of showing the world and himself his father was wrong, Liam had taken it as an excuse and fallen even deeper. He'd been a useless drunkard, he'd whored, hadn't cared for anyone but himself. Not that his father had his part of guilt, too, because he had. He'd been unforgiving, not understanding his son, who'd wanted to become an artist and not follow in his father's footsteps. But even though his father had been a hard man, if Angel had learned one thing over the centuries, it was that every person was responsible for his own actions. Meaning he was responsible for his' and nobody else.

Meaning also only he and nobody else could make amends.

Not that he actually thought the things he'd done were amendable in any way, because they weren't. How could you amend the fact that a family had lost a father, a sister, a mother, or that whole villages had been extinguished by Angelus and Darla? And they hadn't died easy deaths. He and Darla had liked to play, and play with demons always equalled torture.

No, there were no amends for his deeds, he couldn't change his past, all he could do was move forward and make it better in the future. Angel was almost startled by the sudden realisation. Had he actually accepted his past? No, that wasn't possible. How could anyone accept a past like his? Nobody would-

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when Buffy's face rose in front of his inner eye, her laugh, her smile, the love shining from her hazel orbs, he remembered the one day when she'd kissed him at the ice rink. She had accepted him, demon and all. She had kissed him, not caring for his contorted features. He could still feel her tongue trailing over his prolonged canines, her fingertips caressing his protruding brows. She had done what he'd failed to do so far. She'd forgiven him.

It was a feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut, and Angel had to take several deep, unnecessary breaths to come to terms with this sudden realisation. In doing what she had Buffy had involuntarily shown him the way to his own salvation, but he'd been too blinded by pain and guilt to see it.

He heard the wheels of Spike's chair before he heard to blond vampire shout at Drusilla to stop her constant singing. She broke off instantly, then started crying instead, accusing Spike of not understanding her. Immediately her lover was at her side, trying to soothe her with whispered promises of a new puppy or a bird. She calmed down after a moment, Spike holding her in his arms, waging her like a child.

Angel blocked out their voices, leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. His sudden realisation had opened a completely new world to him, he felt excited, almost free for the first time in hundred years. For the first time he was actually looking forward to the future. The question was, did he still have one?

Part 11

Jenny hit the 'enter'-button on the keyboard with much more force than necessary, then muttered, "Damn, damn, damn," when a jarring noise sounded through the empty computer room.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized quickly to the machine knowing very well that the computer didn't really care what she did to it. It was just a dead thing. But dead or no, it still didn't give her the right to mistreat it. It was a dead machine, but it was an expensive one, too, and the school board was already complaining about the lack of money for books. But maybe she should just ruin the damn thing, just to feel guilty for another failure in her life.

She found her vision blurring when tears welled up in her eyes. Jenny blinked rapidly, but wasn't successful in keeping them from falling down her cheeks. Great, just great, she thought, now her makeup would run, and she'd have to go to fix it. No way she wanted to see anyone, let alone Giles, she was crying her eyes out.

"Oh damn," she exclaimed loudly, her unseeing gaze still directed at the screen. Why the hell did life have to be so complicated, and why, oh why, did love have to hurt so much? Not just love between man and woman, but love in general. Why was it so hard to deal with disappointment and betrayal?

For a moment she wondered if vampires didn't have the better deal. They didn't care for anything, but feeding and fun. Sure they felt grief, but in the end it was only yourself who counted. Of course that sort of life, if you could even call it one, was incredibly empty. For a human, anyway. What was a life worth if you couldn't feel love, grief, pain? Sure those feeling hurt and could tie your guts into knots, but without them you'd be just a zombie going through the motions.

Although, the way she felt now, even being a zombie held a certain attraction.

She closed her eyes for a moment, wiped them, not caring that her makeup would be smeared all across her face. Who would come and see her, anyway? Giles had made it perfectly clear he didn't want to have her around. He hadn't actually dismissed her, but that didn't mean she hadn't gotten his message loud and clear. And that after his almost casual declaration that he thought her beautiful.

She could still feel her heart beat like a sledgehammer in her chest at his words. Beautiful. He thought she was beautiful. They had made several steps to rebuilt their relationship over the last days, but it had been the first time he'd uttered anything remotely romantic. He'd touched her, yes. In his apartment, when she'd felt his hands on her shoulders, on her arms. The other day he'd been holding her hand. But none of it, neither his actions, nor his words indicated anything but friendship.

Not that she wasn't grateful for it. After what she'd done, the way she'd betrayed his trust, she should be happy he was offering friendship at all. She should be content, he was including her again in the close circle around the Slayer and her vampire boyfriend, but she couldn't. There had been times when she would've been able to step back, but not anymore. Her feelings for him ran too deep already, were too strong, had long overstepped the boundaries of friendship.

The day before Angel had turned into his evil alter ego, they'd been on the brink to a sexual relationship and for Jenny, raised in the traditions of her old clan, this was a big step. For all her modern appearance and her fancy clothes, she was a old-fashioned girl at heart when it came to intimacy and sex. She could count her lovers on one hand, had been at least friends with all of them. Her first had been a boy she'd known since childhood, a man she trusted with her life.

A man who had not hesitated to betray her with the rest of her clan.

The way she had not hesitated to betray Rupert, let alone Buffy and Angel.

Suddenly feeling unsettled, she stood up, walked over to the window, her eyes straying to the yard where usually pupils gathered and chatted. It was deserted at five o'clock in the afternoon, only a few cars were left in the teachers' parking area. She saw Giles' Citroen standing at the end of the row, and a small smile crept across her face. Buffy had once said he needed a grown up car. He'd told her that and chuckled. Jenny didn't share the Slayer's opinion. The car fitted him. It was old-fashioned, reliable, and very sexy.

Something you could fall in love with.

The way she had.

She sighed, rubbed a spot on her forehead where a headache was beginning to form. How could she expect him to forgive her, she wondered? How could she, when she knew first hand what that kind of betrayal did to you? How deeply you could be hurt? Her wounds were still bleeding, probably would so for a long time. How could she expect Rupert's to heal within a few weeks?

The problem was she did expect them to heal. Quickly, without scars. Or at least she had. Until now. Now, this very moment, she understood that it wasn't so easy. That it couldn't be. Trust wasn't something you could win back over night. You had to work for it, to show that you earned it. And that was exactly what she was going to do. Show them that they could count on her, no matter what. And that she had learned from her former mistakes, that she would never betray them again.

With movements that were all but determined she turned back to the desk with the computer sitting on. There had to be something she could do. She walked over, stared at the screen. Then, after taking a deep breath, she sat down again, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Her head was pounding by now, but she ignored it. There were things more important than a simple headache.

The boy lowered his head, his lips finding the girls, and they came together in a long, gentle kiss, when he wrapped his arms around her, their feet moving with the rhythm of the love song on the dance-floor.

Buffy turned her head away abruptly, not able to watch their public display of affection any longer. The way the guy held the girl was like a knife through her already shattered heart, Angel's words about leaving coming back into her mind, and her childish reaction to it. What if those were the last words they ever said to each other? What if he had left already, gone to locations unknown?

At the thought of never seeing him again, the pain felt like a hot knot in her stomach. She'd thought there was nothing worse than seeing a demon wear your lover's face. But she'd been wrong. There were things worse than that. Like never seeing him again at all.

No!

Denial was instant and sharp. This wasn't going to happen. She would see him again. Then they would talk and …

His image rose before her inner eye. The way his eyes were resting on her, the way they would shine with love and gentleness. There was such pain and grief in his dark orbs, but whenever they fell on her it seemed, if not gone, then at least dimmed. She loved thinking it was her doing, that her presence managed to make the shadows disappear from his soul, to make room for sun and laughter. She liked to think he was happier when she was with him. She loved hearing him laugh, a sound so rare and so precious. He had a wonderful laugh.

Buffy quickly glanced back to the dance-floor where the guy's hands were roaming over the girl's back, drawing patterns over her dress.

She thought about Angel's hands, strong, capable, with long, elegant fingers, one holding a ring, a Claddagh. He'd never taken it off, not even when the soul was gone. She wore the smaller version. It was her most precious piece of jewellery.

She remembered the way his hands had touched her, had made her feel, what they'd done to her body in the name of love. Although she hated to think about the army of lovers he must have had throughout the centuries, she had to admit that an experienced lover was a good thing, especially if the girl was a virgin. She'd heard stories of her friends, about pain and blood, about nothing but disappointment the first time they'd been with a boy.

None of it had happened to her. Angel had been gentle, thoughtful, and not to forget skilful. There hadn't been a moment of pain. He'd aroused her to the brink of madness and when he'd finally taken her virginity she'd been too far gone to feel anything but passion and rapture. Her first time with a man was something to be treasured and remembered. She wondered how many girls could say the same?

And she remembered the second time they'd made love. Him being a soulless demon, and her … Buffy wasn't sure what exactly it made her. And somehow she didn't really care. After he'd been unconscious she'd taken her time looking at him. His broad, well muscled chest, his slim waist, his powerful legs. She'd touched him everywhere, fascinated, and encouraged by his unconsciousness, that he didn't know what she was doing.

She felt her body quicken in response to the memory and she gulped down the drink in her hand, choking when one of the ice-cubes went down the wrong way.

"Hey, hey." Xander's hand came to lay on her back. "Look what I've found here, Will," he shouted over the loud noise, turning his head towards the redhead who was standing near by. "The Buffster's here."

"Xand." She greeted him weakly, not at all feeling fit for company. All she wanted was to be left alone. Although regarding her latest train of thoughts it maybe wasn't the safest thing to do in public. Buffy felt heat creep into her cheeks and was suddenly extremely grateful for the dim light at the Bronze.

"Hey, Buffy." Willow was a little bit breathless when she came to a halt in front of her friends. Seeing the strain in her friend's face, she beamed overly bright. "Isn't the band great. I think they are great. Don't you think they are great, Xand?"

"Oz is playing," the boy replied, "Of course you think they are great."

"Well, sure," she admitted. "I'm their groupie after all, but … they are great," she repeated, giving Xander a stern look, then nodded at Buffy when the blond didn't see it.

"Uh … Oh! Yeah. Great. The band is great," he agreed, beaming as well.

"Guys, is something wrong with you?" Buffy gave her friends a curious glance. "Did you drink coffee again?"

"No," Willow shook her head emphatically. "I'm living coffee free these days. Oh … look there's Oz." She turned her head, and then almost casual, she asked, "I … uh … didn't see Angel tonight."

A frown appeared on the Slayer's face, and she avoided the other girl's eyes. "No. Uh … he's probably busy."

"Busy?," Xander shook his head, "Come one. You guys are practically attached at the hip. As soon as the sun goes down you hardly meet one without the other." He glanced quickly at Willow, then plunged ahead, "Did something happen? Trouble in paradise?"

At that Buffy's head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Willow chirped. "But Giles told us that he couldn't reach Angel the whole day, and so we thought … you know with you two being a couple and all … we thought you might know where he is."

"No." The blonde's voice was so muffled they almost didn't understand her.

Finally Xander couldn't stand it anymore. Putting a hand on Buffy's shoulder he gazed at her seriously. "Buffy, you don't need to pretend. We know."

Panic entered her eyes, "Know? Know what?"

"About your fight with Angel," Willow explained, reaching out and taking the blonde's hand. "Xander thought he was following you last night. Not," she added, seeing the other girl's hostile expression, "to spy on you or something. Just to help. In case you …," she shrugged. "Anyways. He heard you fight."

"Yeah," Xander confirmed. "That's why we tried to find a solution. That's why we searching the net today."

Buffy stared at her best friends, and then suddenly tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked away.

"Buffy," Willow said softly. "Xander really-"

"No," the Slayer shook her head, looking back at them. "It's not… You guys are great," she sniffed, "God," she breathed, ran a hand through her hair and turned towards the band. "I … uh … we … well, you know. We had an argument and I … said pretty bad things to him. That he could go and I wouldn't miss him. Well, you heard it, so you know already." She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hands. "What … what if he already left? What if he decided I wasn't worth to stay?"

"Nah." Xander grinned when Buffy's head whirled around, her tearful eyes staring at him incredulously. "Hey, I hate the guy. But that doesn't mean I can't see he's crazy about you. Besides, Angel wouldn't just leave. That's just not his style. He'd tell you, face to face. And anyway. As far as I heard it last night, he was only thinking about it, in case his soul was still in danger. He didn't make a decision."

When his words finally sunk in, the Slayer felt panic rise inside of her. It was one thing to think he had left. It was bad, but at least it would mean he was alright and alive. But if he was still in Sunnydale, if he hadn't left, and after looking at Xander again, she was sure of it, it could only mean something bad. Something she didn't even want to think about.

"Oh God," she managed, pressing a hand on her trembling lips. "What if something happened to him?"

"Oh, Buffy," Willow squeezed the hand she was still holding. "I'm sure he's alright. Maybe he just got lost doing … something." But she could clearly see that the Slayer didn't believe her, and if she was honest with herself, she didn't believe it either. Angel might have vanished for days, sometimes weeks, but those times were long over. He wouldn't leave Sunnydale without telling Buffy. And that left only one other possibility.

"Maybe we should find out," Xander suggested.

"But where?," the redhead gave her friend a helpless look.

The Slayer's eyes were hard, her jaw set determinedly. "There's only one thing I can imagine," she said slowly, getting up from her chair, reaching behind her back, checking for the stake she'd always hidden there. She never forgot it, it was an automatic gesture. "I didn't finish the job the last time. But this time, he's going to pay."

"Pay?," Xander was irritated, "Who's going to pay."

"Spike," Buffy replied, her fists clenching and unclenching in a steady rhythm. "He's going to pay. He'll learn that messing with a Slayer's boyfriend can be deadly.

Angel heard the door of the factory open and close, and he heard an unfamiliar voice. He didn't have to wonder whom it belonged because only seconds later, Dru and Spike appeared, accompanied by a tall man, clad all in black, his face long, covered with scars, his eyes glittering like coals. He was undoubtedly a vampire, but there was something … Something Angel couldn't put a finger on.

The stranger stepped closer, mustering the dark-haired vampire with unconcealed interest. "That's him then," he said, his English heavily accented. Something eastern European, Angel guessed, and felt the hair at his neck stand up straight. No, it couldn't be, he tried to calm himself, but already he knew there was no other explanation.

"I always wanted to see him in person. Interesting, very interesting." The stranger turned away, his eyes sweeping over Spike and Dru, then he turned back to Angel. "Alright," he nodded once. "I will do it. I will remove the creatures soul."

Part 12

Giles was on his way to his kitchenette when the door bell rang. He'd fallen asleep three hours ago, and was angry with himself for wasting three hours of precious time.

After what Xander and Willow had told him in the library, he was more determined than ever to find a solution for the problem with Angel's curse. He'd given the situation a lot of thought since then and was more convinced than ever that the dark-haired vampire was of the utmost importance for his Slayer. It hurt him to admit it, and he wished it was different, that he, her watcher, was the one she'd rely on, but fortunately he wasn't arrogant enough to let his wishes blind him.

Buffy relied on Angel. There had been understandable mistrust for a while, and Giles would be concerned if it had been different. She was the Slayer after all, and a vampire, soul or no, was her sworn enemy. But after overcoming the initial problems she relied on him. Completely and unquestioningly. She trusted him.

She'd gone through Hell, while his soul was gone. Only sheer determination had let her make it through the weeks alone, seeing her lover's face, laughing at her, hearing his voice, taunting her. Giles was incredibly proud of her, but he had also seen her resolve weakening, had seen the despair behind the bravado, the urge to give up, to give in.

Angel's return had been like a present, but it had come with a twist, making it not less precious, yet incredibly fragile, straining Slayer's and vampire's nerves to the limit. It was only reasonable that Angel thought about leaving, and under different circumstances Giles wouldn't have given it a second thought. But the way things were, he had to. He had to find a way to solve the problem with Angel's soul. He was her bloody watcher, dammit. He'd been nothing but useless so far, it was time to show he could more than just research stupid prophecies and demons.

Shaking his head over himself, he walked towards the door. Stupid prophecies? The Watcher's council would have a fit could they hear his thoughts.

He had a small smile on his face that turned into a frown when he saw Miss Calender standing in front of his apartment. "Jenny?"

"Oh." She seemed startled for a moment. "Good evening, Rupert." He saw her biting her lower lip, fidgeting with the coat she was wearing, "I … uh … I know it is late, and … and I'm … I don't want to disturb you, but … maybe I've found something … helpful."

He watched her for a moment, feeling a stab of guilt for her nervous behaviour, knowing he was at least partially responsible for it, having treated her like an intruder this morning in the library. She'd been so comfortable with him in the morning and he'd destroyed it with his thoughtlessness and harsh words.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, "It's not even ten o'clock. Besides, I was about to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?"

He stepped back, making room for her to step inside, then closed the door behind her.

"I still think we should have told Giles what we're going to do." Willow walked between Oz and Xander, her eyes nervously darting around, her ears trying to pick any noise. It wasn't that she was a coward, not really, but walking into a dangerous vampire's lair wasn't something she did every day. Sure, Buffy was with them, but Slayer or no, with Spike and Drusilla you could still end up a midnight snack quite easily.

"There was no time," Buffy bit out, her gaze directed straight ahead, her strides long and determined. "It would've been too long to get him. We would've lost too much precious time."

"He's probably asleep anyway," Xander muttered, ignoring Willow's glare. "And besides, this is fun, right? I mean, we're going to fight dangerous vampires, become famous and … no, wait. We're not going to be famous. Because nobody even knows we're doing what we're doing. We're probably going to end up dead. Extremely dead."

"Buffy, we all know how important this is for you. It's about Angel after all," the redhead said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with the Slayer. "But wouldn't it been wiser if we would be prepared. Giles would research the whole-"

"We don't even know what's going on," the blond replied, her voice showing impatience. "If you don't know what's going on, there's nothing to research."

"Girl's got a point here," Oz threw in, giving the Slayer a slight smile she ignored. He didn't mind. She was somewhere else, already focussed on an upcoming battle with Spike and Drusilla. His eyes darted to Willow at his right side. He understood. If anyone was about to hurt his girl, he'd do the same.

"I'm all for it, Buff. As long as we don't end up dead." Xander smiled nervously at the Slayer.

She stopped all of a sudden, took a deep breath, then turned to her friends, her eyes serious, her mouth firm. "You can go. Just turn around and go. All of you. As you already pointed out, this is about Angel. He's my boyfriend. Nothing concerns any of you. So if you want to leave, I can understand. I won't blame you. But if you're coming with me, there will be no more complaining. I cannot listen to it. Not now." She took another deep breath, distress clearly visible on her face, but her eyes didn't lose their focus, "So what is it going to be?"

"Of course we're coming with you," Willow said instantly, her chin coming up. "Right?" She looked around, daring the others to say otherwise.

"Sure." Oz agreed, shrugged. His girlfriend went, he went.

"It was never a question," Xander's face was serious. "Not that I actually think the prospect of dying for Dead-Boy is really promising, but that doesn't mean I'm going to bail."

Buffy studied their faces for a moment, then obviously content with what she was seeing, she nodded. "Fine. Let's go." She turned and without another comment her friends followed.

Jenny wrung her hands in her lap, licking her dry lips nervously, while she watched Giles preparing tea in his kitchenette. He hadn't said another word ever since she'd stepped over his threshold, just taken her coat, then busied himself by making tea. He wasn't unfriendly or hostile, but he hadn't given any indication that he was glad to see her either.

She glanced at the sheets of paper she'd placed on the table, not sure anymore that it had been the best idea to come here without giving him a call before. But she'd been so excited when she'd found the pages on the net and knew she couldn't wait until tomorrow to show him. Plus, she had no idea how he'd react if she just called him. The way he was would make it more difficult for him to brush her off face to face.

"… hungry?"

Her head snapped up, and with startled eyes she looked at him. "Excuse me? What?"

A smile crept across his face, and Jenny felt her heart-rate increase. "I wanted to know if you're hungry?"

"Oh," she laughed nervously. "No. No, I'm fine. There's no need to-"

"It's not a problem. I could make you a sandwich," he offered.

"No. Really, I'm fine." She hadn't eaten since breakfast, her face glued to the screen, everything else forgotten. But the last she wanted was to cause him any more trouble.

"Okay. Tea is ready," he announced then walked over to her, placing a steaming mug in front of her. "There we go."

"Thanks." She swallowed, her mouth feeling dry and her tongue heavy like lead. Still, she managed, "I'm glad you … had time to see me."

"Jenny-"

"No, I mean, really. It's late," she babbled, stumbling over the words, "And it's not as if I'm a close friend. So, I'm really grateful." Suddenly not sure what to do with her hands, she reached for her tea, took a sip and burnt the tip of her tongue. She stifled a groan, put the mug back down, cursing her fingers for trembling.

"Jenny." His voice was gentle, firm.

"Rupert, really-"

"Jenny," he repeated, reaching out for her hand, catching it before she could pull it away. "Don't," he pleaded, remorse in his voice. "Please."

His palm enveloping her hand was warm, and Jenny felt his strength, his gentleness, and warmth spread through her, her stomach fluttering. Licking her lips, she looked up. "Yes?"

"I think I need to apologize."

"No-"

"Oh, yes," he insisted. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you this morning. I was … feeling useless and in general sorry for myself." He chuckled slightly, "I was reading all through the night and I didn't find anything helpful. Not a single thing. I was tired and cranky. With the situation, with your clan, and then…," he trailed off, shook his head, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"And then I was there," she said, managing a slight smile, turning her hand in his and squeezing it. "I understand. You needed a vessel for your anger."

"Yes," he confirmed, squeezing her hand back. "And I'm sorry for it. More than you can know. Am I forgiven?"

She stared at him for a moment, not sure she'd gotten this right, then suddenly laughed, "Of course. Oh, Rupert," she felt tears in her eyes, but didn't care. "I thought you wanted to let me know that … "

"No," he shook his head. "Jenny, I already told you that … I was ready to start over. I just … Sometimes I'm obviously more human than I want to. I behaved like an idiot. But it also tells me that I still need time. I thought I'd forgiven you, and I think I have, but maybe there's still that tiny bit of resentment that comes out at certain times."

"I understand. And it's okay," she replied quickly. "I've been hurt, too. By my people. It's maybe harder to forgive them, because they don't want to listen and they don't want to learn, but …," she smiled through her tears, took a shaky breath, "You really want to start over?"

"That's what I said." Giles smiled, and the smile made his face younger, even more handsome if it was possible. "But it has to wait. At least until we find a solution, something, anything, to make the situation more bearable for Buffy and Angel. It seems they had a fight last night, and Angel indicated he was thinking about leaving Sunnydale."

"Oh, no."

"Yes. And Buffy was acting very strange this morning. I'm afraid you were right all along. You remember telling me you weren't sure she was able to go on without him?"

"Yes." Jenny nodded gravely, then suddenly remembered why she'd come in the first place. Pulling her hand from Giles's grasp, she reached for the printouts. "Here," she told him, "I found this today on the net. It's in Russian. I'm not very good at it, but as far as I can read it, it might be of help."

His face intent, Giles reached behind him, produced the sheets Willow had given him in the morning, "Willow found this," he explained, handing it to Jenny, picking hers up in the process. "It's French. It gives a lot of hints. Maybe those together…," his voice trailed off, his concentration already on the words in Cyrillic.

Jenny looked at his profile, suddenly feeling almost giddy. He wanted to start over. Maybe they would have a chance together after all. She could hardly believe it. With a smile on her face she began to read.

With a kick of her leg, Buffy slammed the door of the factory open, storming inside like a bullet, her eyes frantically searching for Angel. Before she could find him, several of Spike's minions charged the small group, attacking with furious growls.

As if they were only annoying distractions, she staked them left and right, kicking them, punching them, she sent another flying into a wooden chair, the furniture breaking in the process, one leg impaling the demon straight through the heart. When there were only three minions left, she left them with her friends, already focussed on a small group in the opposite corner, a peroxide blond in a wheelchair, a black-haired woman in a read gown, and a tall, dark stranger, who was talking in a strange voice, using an unknown language, holding a book in his hands.

She saw Spike whirling around, shouting at his remaining minions to get down and take care of the Slayer. She only heard parts of it, her eyes resting on a figure, chained to the wall, huddled in the corner, a figure who, without any doubt, was Angel.

"Angel!," she shouted, staking another charging vampire, that was coming down the stairs.

She saw Angel's eyes snap open. They seemed darker than usual, almost black, and they held something she'd rarely seen in them before. Fear. Angel was afraid, and in realising that, she also understood what was happening. The dark, tall stranger wasn't just talking, he was chanting. And it didn't take a genius to know what all the chanting was about. He was trying to take Angel's soul away.

"NOOOOOO," she yelled, whirling around, kicking another vampire, staking a second one, without even looking, behind her back. Willow, Xander, and Oz were joining her now, obviously having gotten rid of the vampires at the entrance. The odds seemed better for a moment, but then Drusilla was there, throwing Xander against a pillar with a single blow. But Buffy didn't care, couldn't care, hearing the constant chanting of the stranger, she left her friends, and with two strides was behind him, kicking him in the back, sending him into the wall, the book flying in the opposite direction.

Ignoring Spike in his wheelchair, she knelt down, her hand cupping Angel's cheek, her voice urgent, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he managed, but she could see he was already weakened by the parts of the spell the stranger had performed.

"It'll be okay," she said, but before she could open his chains, Angel shouted urgently, "Willow."

Buffy turned around, just in time to see Drusilla bending Willow's neck to in an unnatural angle, clearly in order to break it any moment. "I'll be back," she told Angel, then sprinted through the factory, attacking the insane vampire before she could finish what she had started. Willow sank to the ground, but Buffy saw she was reaching for her neck, rubbing it, and released a breath of relief. She punched Drusilla again, the vampire staggering backwards, when Spike joined the battle, a long wooden bar in his hands aiming at Oz.

"Look out," Buffy cried, glad when the bar missed Oz' head by a mere inch. The same moment, she heard a noise from the other end of the factory. From the corner of her eye Buffy saw the stranger stir, then crawling towards an object that was lying a few feet away. His hand reached out for the book, she saw it grabbing it, and a never known panic seized her.

Forgetting everything around her, she started towards the stranger, determined to stop what she knew he was about to finish. The stranger's body was contorted with pain, his eyes half-closed, but even through the slits Buffy could see the evil shining from them, making her stomach churn.

She blocked it out, tried to push everything away, concentrating only to reach him in time, the factory seeming huge all of a sudden.

She heard him start to chant, saw Angel's eyes behind him locking into hers, a quiet apology in them, a silent goodbye. No, she wanted to shout but her voice didn't obey, her legs feeling like lead, moving too slow, even though she was steadily coming closer. But would it be in time? Could it be?

She was close now, the stranger almost in her reach, when a body came flying from the side, tackling into her, the momentum of the impact carrying both bodies into the side wall with a loud crack, a shrill voice screeching, "NOOOOO! You're not taking my Daddy away," and Drusilla's sharp claws reaching for the Slayer's throat.

Buffy felt dizzy for a moment, but managed to shake the insane vampire off of her, Drusilla slamming against some trash stacked in a corner, her whimper like that of a sick child. "Daddy, daddy, daddy." The Slayer heard Spike growl at the other end of the factory, but ignored it, hoping Willow, Xander and Oz would hold him in check with crosses and Holy Water for another while. He was still in a wheelchair, after all, and not as dangerous as usual.

Her eyes were searching Angel but the moment they found him, she felt her stomach fall through the bottom. His eyes were closed, he seemed far away. The stranger was lying nearby, an eerie smile on his lips, when he whispered, "It's done."

Part 13

The atmosphere in Giles' living-room could only be described as gloom. Willow was sitting beside Oz on the sofa, fighting tears, while her boyfriend's expression wasn't as stoic as usual, and one of his hands was rubbing the redhead's still sour neck. Xander sat opposite to them, eyes cast at his lap, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between. Jenny was trying to make herself useful by preparing tea and coffee and some snacks although she doubted anyone would want to eat.

They had arrived half an hour ago, Buffy and Xander carrying an unconscious Angel between them, and while Oz and Willow had informed Giles and Jenny about the events that had taken place in the factory that night, Xander and Buffy had managed to get Angel upstairs, where the Slayer had chained him to the watcher's bed. She was still upstairs with him, hadn't left his side ever since.

"Here."

Jenny's hesitant voice broke the silence, three pairs of startled eyes looking at her.

"I've made some sandwiches, and tea and coffee, if you want." She tried a smile, but failed miserably, and her hands shook badly when she placed cups and plates in front of the teenagers. Ever since Willow had revealed the name of the stranger they'd met in the factory, her world had turned upside down. Again.

"Thanks," Willow tried to smile, too, but wasn't any more successful. "I'm not hungry."

"Y-yes," Jenny nodded,. "I can understand, my stomach feel rather queasy, too."

"I'm sorry," the redhead said honestly, her voice full of compassion, "About Dario."

A frown appeared on Miss Calender's forehead, and she swallowed hard, trying desperately not to break down. "Thank you," she whispered.

"It's not your fault." Giles came down the stairs, his eyes on the dark-haired woman, whose face was as white as a sheet, and whose cheeks were freckled with nervous red spots.

"How is it?," Willow wanted to know, straightening on the sofa, grabbing Oz's hand for support.

The watcher sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "Still the same. Angel is out to the world. And Buffy doesn't move from his side."

"So we still don't have a clue if he's still got his soul or not, right." Xander's voice was defeated. "I wonder how she can stand it?"

"Because she's incredibly strong, and because she doesn't have a choice," Giles replied, nodding gratefully at Jenny, when the computer teacher placed a cup of tea in his hand.

"Poor Buffy." Willow once again fought with tears, leaned her head against Oz's shoulder. "I wish we could do something."

"We can only wait." The watcher sipped from his tea, then looked at Jenny. "Stop beating yourself up over the fact that your cousin was involved into this."

"I can't," she whispered, swallowing hard. "I knew him all my life." He was my first lover, she thought. How am I going to deal with the fact that he became a vampire, for the only reason to bring back Angelus? The pain in her chest was almost suffocating her. "I played with him. We knew each others secrets." She shook her head. "I cannot understand what happened. I know he was eaten up by hatred, but this…"

"We cannot know what goes on in another one's head," Giles said, reaching for her hand, glad when she didn't pull away. "It was his decision."

"He's right, you know," Oz gaze was thoughtful.

"Buffy beat him up pretty good to get him to talk," Xander said, staring into his coffee. "We would've brought him back here, but he mumbled something and disintegrated to dusk right before our eyes, together with his damned book. Man, that was creepy."

"He killed himself," Willow reached for her own cup. "I suppose his task was finished. He'd done what he wanted to do."

"But why bring back Angelus?," Jenny asked nobody in particular. "It's sick."

"He was a vampire," Giles said quietly, squeezing her hand. "Vampires don't act logical. We've always thought they were only creatures of instinct, but knowing what we do now, I'm not sure anymore. We will probably never know what drove him."

"I have to tell my people," Miss Calender glanced at the phone. "I cannot even think what this is going to do to them. They are very traditional people. The shame will kill them. To think that one of her clan went against all they are standing for …," she shook her head, then let out an unhappy laugh. "And I cannot believe I'm sorry for them after all they did."

"That's because you're a good person," the watcher's voice was warm. "You still love them. We don't stop loving a person only because we're disappointed. We might stop trusting them, but love," he smiled, his eyes locked with hers, "is a completely different matter."

She managed a wobbly smile, not daring to interpret the look in his eyes. She felt too shaky right now, and wasn't sure she'd be able to deal with another possible disappointment in case she was wrong. Slowly, she pulled her hand away. "Could I use your phone?"

"Take the one in the study," he offered, pointing at the door in the back, "You've got privacy there."

"I will," her smile was grateful, but still sad. "Thank you." Squeezing his hand again, she was gone.

Buffy couldn't stop touching him. She held Angel's hand, stroked his face, her fingers trailing over his handsome features, her thumb coming to rest on his lips, full, passionate, soft. She closed her eyes and could almost feel them on her own, could feel a slow dizziness at the thought, her stomach fluttering in response. She imagined his hands buried in her hair, while he whispered words of love to her between kisses.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open and she stifled a sob the very last moment. Blinking rapidly, she pulled her hand from his face, but still feeling the need for contact, she placed it on Angel's. His skin was cool, his dead body not producing any heat. She should have felt uncomfortable because of it, but didn't. His coolness, his body, his skin were so familiar to her. He'd been her only lover, and for a moment she wondered if she'd ever be able to be intimate with a normal human male. Would it feel weird, having warm hands touching her most private parts, the parts only her physician and Angel had seen?

Abruptly she turned her head towards the window, the first tear falling from her lashes, the idea of another man touching her too painful to be contemplated any further. Because it would mean Angel was gone, and she wasn't ready to deal with it. Not yet, maybe not ever.

She heard a noise from the doorway and quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, then turned her head to see who'd come upstairs. "Hi," she greeted her watcher. He was standing just inside the room, looking at her intently, his eyes holding compassion and concern.

"How is he?," he asked, his gaze travelling to Angel, whose still form was lying on the bed, arms and legs securely chained to the posts.

She shrugged, "The same. He hasn't moved. How … how are the others?," she asked, changing the subject, "Is Willow okay?"

"I think her neck is still a bit sour. But she's going to be alright. You don't have to worry, Buffy." He gave her a smile, his voice gentle. He walked to the bed and sat down at Angel's other side. "I have to admit, I never saw an unconscious vampire before. It's … strange. He seems dead and yet …," he trailed off, giving her an apologetic look. "Sorry, I didn't want to…"

She held up a hand, "It's okay, Giles. Yes, he looks dead, but he isn't dust, so I think it's a safe bet he's not." She frowned suddenly, grimaced, "Well, he is dead of course, and not in a really creepy sort of way. It's strange, you know. I never saw him as a dead corpse. For me he was just Angel. A vampire, yeah, but somehow … not."

"I know," he replied, his eyes warm, understanding. "For you he was a man."

"Yeah," she nodded, her messy ponytail bobbing up and down. "I … uhm … I'm sorry we came here, Giles," she said then, biting her lower lip. "But I could hardly bring him home. Mom isn't there, but … She might come tomorrow and we still don't know," she gestured at Angel, "I mean, we cannot know if … I mean, how long … and she might be back then-"

"There's no need to apologize," Giles interrupted her gently. "Your mother doesn't know anything about your secret identity. And I can only guess how shocked she would be to find Angel, a vampire, in your bed. No, you did the right thing."

"Thanks," she exhaled a pent up breath, managed to give him a grateful smile, then finally asked the question, she'd been asking herself ever since she'd seen him, eyes closed, unconscious, at the factory. "What do you think, Giles," she asked, glad her voice was only shaking slightly, "Is he still Angel?"

He looked at her for a moment before answering, "I honestly don't know. I wish I … had a way to find out, but unfortunately," he shook his head sadly. "All we can do is wait."

"And then?," she asked, new tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't want to face it, but she knew she had to. The problem was she wasn't sure she could do it. The idea of once again seeing those empty, bottomless pools in the face of her lover, was like a fist clenching around her heart. It was suddenly hard to breathe. But she managed to shake it off, reminded herself she'd endured it once, and she could do it again. She'd be strong. And there was still the curse Jenny had translated. They could use it and curse him again, couldn't they?

As if sensing her thoughts, Giles's face became very serious, "Do you really want that?," he asked, startling her with his insight. "Do you want him back at any cost?"

Did she? She asked herself. "I …," she paused, trying to find words for her feelings, but failing. She lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture, feeling suddenly helpless and very tired. "I couldn't stand it," she admitted finally. "I couldn't stand facing the demon again. Not forever, I mean. I know that he might wake up, being Angelus, but I cannot go through it for weeks. Not again."

"I understand," he replied, his voice grave, "And I would never expect it from you. I know you tried to put up a good front, but don't think we didn't see what the last weeks did to you. Besides, it would be completely irresponsible to let his soulless self roam the earth again."

"Do you think it is wrong to want him back?," she asked, looking out of the window, to the sky, as if talking to a higher power, wishing them to answer. She was a warrior for the good cause, didn't that mean she was at least entitled to have the one thing she wished most, she wondered? "I know he would want it, too. He wouldn't want to be a vampire, doing evil, killing people. I know how much pain he feels every day, I see it in his eyes. He tries to hide it, but sometimes, when we are close, and he lets his guard down, I can see it. I couldn't do it to him. Even knowing he might leave me, because of the clause in his curse, it's better than being a demon again. Just a demon, without a soul."

"And you really think," Giles asked, looking at her back, "he wants to live like that? Never at peace, losing the woman he loves, haunted by the images of his victims, the blood, the pain? None of us know what memories he carries with him, but I think they're worse than anything we can imagine. You've read his curse, Buffy. Do you want to inflict it on him. Do you really?" When she didn't answer, he pushed on, "You've seen the part in his curse where it speaks about feeling pain and grief tenfold. They wanted him to suffer, really suffer. And he has. We don't have the slightest idea what he went through."

"But he already regained his soul," Buffy argued, her gaze on Angel's face, "That night in my bedroom."

"Yes," he agreed, "he did. But it just happened. We didn't do anything. We still don't know why it happened, but it did. Maybe it was the same curse, maybe it was something completely different. We don't know it. But if he wakes up without his soul, and if we're cursing him again, we would have to use his original curse. It's the only thing we have. Willow and Jenny found some things on the net, but I'm afraid, it's not enough to create a different curse or anything. Besides the fact that we don't even know if we can re-curse him at all," he paused for a moment, then went on, "We have to decide if it's the right thing to do."

Her head snapped around at that, her eyes were huge, confused, "What do you mean the right thing to do?," she asked, a frown on her forehead, "It's the only thing we can do. If he wakes up a demon, we will curse him. There isn't another way. I will not let him be a demon. Not ever. You said yourself it was irresponsible." She looked at her watcher, saw the expression in his eyes, sad, grave. She tried to ignore what she was reading there, tried to block out what an inner voice had whispered in her head ever since she'd chained Angel to Giles' bed. "No," she whispered, her voice cracking. "No."

She didn't want to hear Giles' voice, didn't want to hear his reason, but he spoke nevertheless, "I know," he said, reaching for her hand, enveloping it in his big one. "And I know this will be the hardest decision you've ever made. But you are the Slayer, and, more importantly, you are the woman who loves him, the woman he loves. You have to decide, Buffy. Nobody can do it for you. I wish to God I could, but I can't. If you … should … decide to …," he paused, cleared his throat, "I can do it. I mean, you don't have to…"

Buffy swallowed, feeling numb, like some part of her was dying deep inside. How could he expect her to even contemplate such a horrible thing? She looked at Angel, his face beautiful, so familiar. She reached out with her free hand, again touching his cheeks, his brows, his nose, his lips. "Our last words were spoken in anger," she whispered. "I told him I could live without him, that I didn't mind him leaving."

"I'm sure he knew you didn't mean it," Giles said softly, squeezing her hand.

A sob tore from her throat, and she turned her hand in his, squeezing it back. "You really think so? That he knew? I … I should have told him," she said, running her fingers through his hair, "that I loved him. I love him so much, Giles."

"Yes, I know. And he knew. I'm absolutely sure of that." Pulling his hand away, he stood up from the bed, looking at his Slayer and the vampire, feeling such terrible sadness, and such impotent rage, he was trembling with it. "I'm going to leave you two on your own for a while. You need to think." He walked to the door, paused, "I'm very sorry, Buffy. I wish I could help."

"I know, Giles," she said without looking at him. "And you do. Don't feel bad."

He nodded, even if she couldn't see it, "See you later," he said. He wanted to say more, but he knew there was nothing he could say or do to ease her pain. He was about to leave, when her voice stopped him cold.

"I will do it," she said, and there was steel in her voice, "If … I should decide to … I will do it."

"Buffy-"

"I owe him, Giles. Thanks for offering to do it, but he trusted me, and I owe him. If it should come to it, it will be me."

He saw her tears fall, saw her trembling fingers move over Angel's face, but he also saw the determined set of her jaw, and knew the decision had been made. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I have to do." She turned around, and for a moment he wished she hadn't. Never in his life he would forget the utter despair in her eyes. He saw her trying to cover it, and failing. "What I want…," her voice was suddenly hollow, hopeless, "Nobody ever asked me what I want. But I suppose that's life, huh?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, then turned and left, his heart heavy.

Buffy looked at the now empty doorway, feeling her soul dying inside of her at the thought what she might have to do soon.

She never noticed that Angel had opened his eyes.

Part 14

Willow was on her feet the moment Giles came back from upstairs. "How is she?"

"As it was to be expected," was his evading answer. He was still feeling deeply unsettled by the things he'd been forced to say to Buffy. He wished with all his heart he could have done or said anything to help her, but there was absolutely nothing. This helplessness was it that made him want to lash out, to scream and rage, but when he saw the concerned faces of the people assembled in his living-room, it was only a bone-deep weariness he was able to feel.

They hadn't done anything to cause the situation, they had all helped as best as they could, and by Willow's red-rimmed eyes and the way Xander tried to avoid his gaze he knew they felt as deeply as he, and maybe on some level they knew already what he and Buffy had been talking about. "Angel is still out," he explained. "And Buffy …," he sighed, "she's trying to deal with the situation. It's hard for her. Incredibly so."

Willow bit her lower lip, fidgeted with her hands, her eyes and voice terribly uncertain, "Do you … I mean … could I help her. Talk to her maybe or … or just listen?"

He managed to smile at her, knowing that she only wanted to help, but also knowing that there was nothing she could do right now. More than anything Buffy needed time for herself, time to think and to decide. "I know you mean well," he said gently, "but at the moment … I don't think it would be a good idea to intrude."

"Oh," she nodded, sat down, instantly comforted by Oz's arm coming around her shoulders. "It's just," she shrugged helplessly, "This makes me so mad, and … I feel bad about it. I mean … this is a terrible thing a-and … Why do I feel mad? I'm a bad girl, I know. A bad, bad person."

Like a volcano erupting, Xander jumped up from his chair, his hands clenched into fists, he stared at his long-time friend incredulously, "Can you - just for a moment - stop thinking about yourself?," he shouted, then as if not able to look at her any longer, he abruptly turned away. "This isn't about how you feel. This is about Buffy."

In the same abrupt way he had turned away, his head came up, and his eyes nailed Giles, "What's going to happen if it is Angelus who's waking up? Are we going to re-curse him?," he asked. "Let me take a guess. We won't." He heard Willow gasp, ignored it. He ran a hand through his hair, went to the window facing the courtyard. There were stars upon the sky, the moon - only half-full - was bright and friendly. Xander saw none of it. "Man, this really sucks. Is she going to do it, or what?"

Giles looked at the back of the boy he'd misjudged for so long, then replied quietly, "I offered to … But she said it was what she had to do."

"Oh no," Willow's eyes flew from Giles' face to Xander and back. "Oh no," she repeated, throwing her arms around Oz, sobbing into his shoulder.

"She hasn't yet decided what to do," the watcher walked to the table, took his tea mug, not caring that the contents were long cold. "She needs time." He sipped, "And we can still hope it won't be him."

"Yeah, sure." Xander's voice was full of sarcasm. "And maybe tomorrow Spike will join a convent. What do you think has happened in that factory? There was this evil guy, chanting from this huge, old book, in a language none of us understood. And in the end he said 'It's done.' And to top it, Jenny tells us it's been her cousin, a Romani. Come again. How can it be anything but the demon who's going to wake up sooner or later? The guy was evil, what do you think he'd do?"

"That's," came Jenny's voice from the doorway, a frown on her forehead, her eyes thoughtful, even holding a little bit of hope, "really a good question, Xander," she said, joining the others at the table. "I just talked to my grandmother, and although she was very angry, and not at all pleased to hear from me again, I could at least understand that Dario wasn't evil."

"He wasn't evil?," Giles' brows shot up. "What do you mean, he wasn't evil?"

"It seems," she shook her head, still too surprised to really understand the deeper meaning of all this, "he had a soul."

"Lucius, can't you drive faster, you bloody idiot?"

"I'm driving as fast as I can, boss. I'm all but flooring the damn thing," the vampire in question replied, looking at Spike through the rear mirror. "This car isn't exactly built for formula 1."

"The car is the fastest you can get," the blond vampire growled. "I was there when it was tuned. Ate the bloke afterwards. Was the weirdest taste," he added, lost in memories for a moment. "Ever tasted blood with motor oil flavour?"

"Can't say I have."

"No, of course not." Spike shook his head, sighed. "It would mean you actually left Sunnydale and had a life. Stupid question. Well, drive as fast as you can. Hell, if I could move my damned legs, I'd show you."

Lucius nodded, and stifled a smirk. Even handicapped Spike was still a dangerous demon, certainly nobody he wanted to have for an enemy. And there was that girl of his. She might be insane, but he'd seen with his own eyes what she capable of doing. He didn't want to cross her either.

The blond vampire glanced at the sleeping woman whose head was resting in his lap. She was incredibly beautiful, her pale, porcelain skin almost translucent. His princess, his eternal love. They were meant to be together for all times, bound by love and passion. He sighed inwardly, turning his head to the tinted windows, tempted to remove the black paint so he could actually see the landscape. Drusilla was his, and tonight he had made damned sure Angel would never cross their path again. He could very well do without his bloody sire. Dru was so hung up on him, she all but forgot Spike whenever the Poof was near.

Spike would probably hear his name in his nightmares until eternity, but at least he wouldn't have to fight him for Dru's affections, wouldn't have to wonder if his black princess was crying out in passion because Angelus was using her for his own pleasure. Those last weeks has been enough to irritate a saint, and he was definitely not a saint, far from it. He didn't intend to go through it again at any time soon, or ever.

For a moment he wondered what had happened to Dario, but then dismissed the thought. What did he care? It was enough to know he'd done what Spike wanted him to do, and the blond vampire had heard the words loud enough. It was done. Spike glanced at Dru again. She was his. Angelus would never bother them again. It was all that mattered.

Buffy thought she was going to faint, when she finally turned away from the empty doorway and her eyes fell on Angel. She felt her breath catch, felt her heart beat increase, her stomach clench painfully.

"Buffy."

It was only a whisper, but it was his voice.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

His voice. How was she going to do this? He was talking to her. How was she supposed to run a stake through his heart while hearing his voice at the same time. And his eyes…

His eyes?

His eyes?

She had expected to look into the evil, empty eyes of the demon, instead she saw confusion the moment Angel realised he was bound to the bed, and love.

Love?

Love!

Not caring for anything or anybody, never hearing the muffled cry coming from her lips, she launched herself at him, framing his head with her hands, peppering kisses all over his face, her tears wetting his skin. She didn't care. Whispering his name again and again between kisses, she felt a sob coming up, and didn't care either.

Angel was awake, and without a single doubt, she knew it was Angel. Not Angelus. Not the soulless demon. Angel. Her Angel. The man she loved. The man who loved her.

The man who was still chained to Giles' bed.

She stopped in mid-kiss, a sheepish smile creeping up her face, her eyes making contact with his undoubtedly ensouled ones, that were watching her intently, "Uhm … sorry for that," she nodded at the chains. "It was just for safety reasons." She laughed to through the tears, feeling as if she could fly, "We didn't exactly know what happened to you." Quickly she removed the chains, while Angel continued to watch her in silence.

"How do you feel?," she asked, concern creeping into her voice, as soon as she was finished unbinding him.

He moved his shoulders, still trying to shake off the confusion he felt ever since Buffy'd launched herself on him, and trying to ignore his sudden erection caused by a tiny blond was sitting astride his pelvis. "A little stiff," he mumbled, for the first time really looking at her. Her clothes were rumpled, torn at several places, she had an already closed cut on her right cheek, there were dirty smudges covering her face, her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying, her hair was bound back in a messy ponytail, but to him she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Slowly, not sure she wanted him to touch her, he reached out, covered her cheek with his palm, trailed his thumb gently over the cut. "You look tired."

She laughed slightly, more tears spilling over, "Yeah, well, the last hours were a bit hard on my nerves, not to forget the fact that I haven't really slept last night."

His eyes darkened instantly, and guilt welled up, "I'm sorry," he said remorsefully, starting to pull his hand away. Instantly Buffy covered it, held it in place for a moment, then turned her head slightly, to kiss the palm.

"No," her voice was soft, a little raw, "It's okay. We both said things … I was a real bitch."

"I shouldn't have said anything," he argued quickly, "It was just a thought I had, never really thought through. I am sorry, Buffy."

"I know. Me too." She managed another smile, then suddenly without warning her face crumpled, "Oh God, Angel, I thought I'd lost you," she cried, sinking back on his chest, tears spilling on his shirt, on the spot where hundreds of years ago, his heart had been beating."

"Shhh," he said, stroking her back, holding her, "It's okay. I won't leave you. I'm not going to leave Sunnydale. I had a lot of time to think during … Anyways. The result is, I realised I was a fool for even considering it. I'm going to stay as long as you want me."

"Forever," she said fiercely, kissing his chin, then as if suddenly realising their current position, she shifted and came to lie on his side, one hand still placed on his chest. "But that's not what I meant. I … uh …," she averted her eyes from his inquiring gaze, "We thought you had lost your soul - again."

He was quiet for a long moment, his body utterly still. Finally he tightened the arm lying around her waist, pulled her close, "Oh, Buffy," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I wish I could've … but the spell made me so tired, I was out of it as soon as it was finished."

"Yeah, I noticed," she replied, lifting her face again, when the words sank in, "What do you mean you wish you could've? Could've, what?"

"Told you that the spell wasn't going to take my soul away," he answered. "It was never meant to do that."

"What?," she stared at him as if she hadn't understood, but from the look in her eyes he knew she had. "But … but … the guy was a vampire. I knew he was. He became dust right in front of us."

His eyes darkened, "You killed him?" There was a strain in his voice, she didn't understand.

"No. He … he just became dust. He said something … Willow thinks it was spell, and then he was dust. Hey, maybe he isn't dead, maybe he just … vanished?," she tried to lighten his mood, not exactly knowing why. The guy was an evil vampire, for Goodness sake.

"No," he shook his head sadly, "I think it's a safe bet he died."

"Why does it bother you? He was just another vampire. Okay, so he knew about spells and … Wait, he never intended to take your soul away?"

"No," Angel confirmed, his face grave. "As strange as it sounds, but Spike knew about it from the start."

// Angel opened his eyes when he heard the wheels of Spike's chair rolling towards him, making that familiar squeaking noise on the floor. He saw the blond vampire watching him, his eyes slightly narrowed. As long as Angel would live, Spike would remain a mystery to him. He was usually good in figuring out the people or non-people he dealt with, but the blond had always been different, starting with the way he obviously cared for Dru. Ending with the stranger staying with them at the moment. His presence just didn't add up.

"Want to take a good look?," Angel asked, studying Spike's face, still showing traces of the burns he'd suffered at the church months ago.

"Nah," the blond rolled closer, never taking his eyes from the other vampire. "How does it feel, Angel?" He rolled the name on his tongue in a way that was meant to be an insult. And for Spike it probably was. For a vampire the idea of a soul was something thoroughly disgusting, it had been for Darla, hundred years ago. And he himself had felt it, the moment his soul was gone. "Angel. What a name. I wonder if it burns you each time you say it."

"I am really not up for this," the dark-haired vampire replied, then driven by a sudden urge, he asked, "What's going on, Spike?"

"Going on?," the blond asked, feigning innocence. "You are chained to the wall. And it makes me feel bloody great to see it. To see all this cocky arrogance on the ground for a change."

"So you're gonna torture me or what? Well, been there, done that. But that's not what I meant."

Spike cocked his head, his eyes turning to slits, before a grin appeared on his lips, "You mean because the guy's got a soul?"

Angel's eyes narrowed as well, but after a moment of hesitation, he said, "Yeah."

"Thought you'd notice that," the other vampire's grin widened. "Only Dru's too," he made a circular motion with his forefinger next to his temple, "you know. But I can't have her interfering this time. Funny what a few pills can do. Sent her to la-la-land in a flash."

"So," Angel straightened slightly against the wall, "What is going to happen?"

"A little spell casting. The guy's actually a wizard. A real pro. Was made a vampire, then his clan gave him a soul," he rolled his eyes, his face showing disgust, "Not that it matters. But for this he was the perfect choice."

"And he's going to do what?"

"Anchor your soul of course. I really can't stand you, but the soulless version is downright annoying. Don't care to meet him again." He snorted, reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Lighting it, he took a deep draw.

Angel didn't even try to understand what was going on, but for the moment he didn't care. "He is a Romani." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Spike nodded. "Well, hope to never see you again, and all."

He was about to turn away, when Angel's voice stopped him. "Why not just kill me?," the dark-haired vampire asked, his eyes questioning.

Spike shrugged, then laughed slightly, blew out another cloud of smoke, "Beats me. The hell if I knew. Maybe I'm a sentimental idiot. But I learned a lot from you, Angelus. And though I hated you …," he shrugged again. "I think even eternity would be too short until we met again, but somehow to know you were gone …," he shrugged a third time and with awe Angel realised Spike was actually embarrassed. He really would die first before figuring out the guy. "So, I guess that makes me a sentimental fool, huh?"

Angel couldn't help the incredulous laugh coming from his lips, "Yeah, sure."

Spike turned away, "Whatever," he said over his shoulder. "But whatever the reason, I'm sure you heard the saying about the gift horse's mouth." With that he was gone.//

"So it was all just to keep Dru from interfering?," Buffy asked incredulously, her chin resting on Angel's chest.

"Yeah," he confirmed, still feeling slightly unreal, his fingers stroking over her back in slow circular motions. "Dario, that was the guy's name, had been told what to say in front of her, and as he was eager to anchor my soul," he shrugged, "It seems he's been trying to find a spell to help me," he shook his head, "I know it sounds strange, but it's the truth. When his tribe found out about it, they kicked him out. He was made a vampire that night, and to keep him from harming people, they cursed him with a soul. They used the same curse they used on me."

"So when Spike contacted him, he jumped on it? How did Spike know about him anyway?"

"He didn't," Angel told her. "I only spoke shortly to Dario, but he contacted Spike."

"I still cannot believe that Spike did this," she shook her head, a frown appearing on her forehead, "Why exactly did he want to get rid of your evil self? I mean you might be annoying and all, but I cannot believe that's all."

Angel coughed slightly, images of Dru flickering through his head, he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Sure, he'd been a soulless demon then, but he had a feeling Buffy wouldn't take it too well to hear what he had done during those weeks, besides killing people or trying to bring the world to an end. "There … uh … are several things. We never got along very well. To tell you the truth, I couldn't believe he wasn't just killing me."

That brought a smile on her face, "Well, I for one, won't look in the horse's mouth," the smiled widened into a grin, a very wicked one, "Wasn't there something about your soul being anchored and all?"

"Buffy," he hissed, feeling her hands travelling lower on his chest, "We don't have privacy here. We can't."

She looked up, her lower lips stuck out in an adorable pout, "Why?"

"Because …," he inhaled sharply, feeling her fingers like hot little pokers burning his skin. She'd pushed up his shirt and was now stroking his bare belly. "Buffy," he managed through gritted teeth.

"Spoilsport," she muttered, not removing her hands.

He was about to take her shoulders to remove her forcefully from his body, not really caring for anyone to run in on them, when a shocked outcry came from the door. They jumped away from each other, while Willow who'd come to look after Buffy, was turning beet-red, not quite sure what to do with her eyes. They were darting around wildly, and Angel saw her swallow several times, embarrassment radiating from her in waves.

"Hi Willow," he said softly.

Part 15

"Okay, let's get this straight. So this Dario-guy had a soul, the same kind you have?" Xander leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, still trying to get used to the sight in front of him.

"Had," Buffy corrected instantly, snuggling deeper into Angel's embrace. "The same kind he had."

"Well, actually," the vampire gave her a smile, "it's the same soul all along. It's just …"

"… glued in and all," the Slayer completed his sentence, returning his smile.

"Hell," Xander exclaimed and rolled his eyes, "Are we damned to watch this all the time now?"

"Yes. Get used to it." Buffy stuck out her tongue at him, then kissed Angel soundly on his mouth.

The vampire chuckled, too relived to feel even a bit uncomfortable at this public display of affection. But as nice as it was to have Buffy sitting in his lap, it was also dangerous. Her constant, even if unconscious, wiggling was going to cause a big problem soon. Angel tightened his arm around the blond, and when she looked and smiled at him, he could see it in the wicked glimpse in her eyes that she was perfectly aware of the situation. Unfortunately with all their friends present there wasn't an awful lot he do against it short of completely embarrassing himself.

"So … uhm …," Willow coughed slightly, her face still flushed, still not able to look at the couple in the love-seat, "You knew this Dario-person well?" She turned to Jenny.

"Yes," the computer teacher confirmed. "We grew up together. He was … the best friend I had."

"It must be a relief to know he was good after all." The redhead gazed compassionately at the older woman.

"It is," Jenny said, "After what Angel told me," she blinked, again feeling tears well up in her eyes. She felt Giles take her hand in his, and gave him a tremulous smile. "I still can't believe how I misjudged him."

"Jenny, don't," the watcher's voice was gentle. "He didn't give you any indication to think differently."

"But I should have known," she insisted, "I knew him all my life. I should have known he wouldn't do it. He isn't like the rest of my clan."

"To know he did it for you," Willow said, a dreamy look in her eyes, "Wow. That's so romantic."

"He did it out of friendship and loyalty," Giles said. "He wanted to help Jenny because he believed her and trusted her. He was convinced his people were wrong. He didn't believe in vengeance."

"I'm really sorry he died," Angel's voice was grave. "I only met him once, but he had kind eyes, and he really loved you, Jenny. It was important to him that you knew."

"Yes, and I'm glad. I … I mean it's still hard, to know, to think he's gone. But … as strange as it sounds … it's also a good feeling to know that he didn't turn against me like the rest of them."

"I'm sorry I never met him," Giles squeezed Jenny's hand. "He must have been a very special person. To think that he wanted to help a vampire, he was taught to hate, because he trusted your judgement," he shook his head in amazement.

"But I still don't understand why he killed himself," Buffy frowned. "There was no reason. I mean, he had anchored Angel's soul. He could've stayed, and helped."

Giles let go of Jenny's hand, reached for the printed sheets lying beside him, "I can only guess," he said, "This print-out Jenny brought to me before you came, it says that there are several magicks used by gypsies that can suck the life-energy right from the person using it."

"You mean … you can die from using magick?," Willow asked, clearly shocked.

"Of course," the watcher nodded. "It depends on the person of course. And … well, there are things …,"he looked suddenly concerned, not certain what to reveal and what not. Then he remembered something, "Think about Eygon. It certainly defines as dangerous magick. But there are things … none of us can imagine. So what I'm guessing is that completing this spell took all the energy he had. I'm not sure if a mere human would've been able to do a spell like that. Soul magick is potent. And dangerous. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that only the fact that he was a vampire gave him the strength to do it at all."

"You mean that he would have died anyway?," Xander asked.

"Yes," Jenny confirmed sadly. "And I'm sure he knew."

"Yes." Angel nodded, stroking Buffy's hair. "He knew."

"He did it for you, and because he believed in what he was doing." Giles smiled warmly at the computer teacher. "He really was your friend and a truly remarkable man."

"Well, this is all very nice and … I really don't want to be a spoilsport here. But does anyone know what happened with Spike and Drusilla?"

"We don't know," Buffy straightened on Angel's lap. "And honestly, I didn't really pay attention. After Angel was unconscious I didn't care what happened to them."

"So it's probably a safe bet to say they are still out there, somewhere." Xander reached for his coffee.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, "But I don't think they'll come back. Spike and I …," he looked at Buffy, "came to an understanding."

"You still didn't tell me why he was so eager to get rid of the soulless version," she said.

The vampire cleared his throat, and she giggled.

Xander rolled his eyes, but then chuckled.

Willow leaned against Oz's shoulder, sighing inwardly.

Jenny looked at Giles. He was smiling. She reached for his hand. Their eyes locked. And when the others left the apartment a while later, she didn't go with them.

Epilogue

Four weeks later.

"You think," Buffy said, looking at the moon and the stars, her hand entwined with Angels, "Spike and Dru will ever come back?"

A low growl came from her side, and she stifled a giggle, "They better not." She felt Angel's hand tighten around hers.

"He didn't kill you after all," she pointed out, " and anchored your soul in the process. You should be grateful."

"Sure," he chuckled, sarcasm in his voice, "and he did it for completely unselfish reasons."

"You know," her eyes were still directed at the sky, but her whole being was focussed on the man beside her, "you still haven't told me the real reason Spike hates you so much. I mean, yeah, you said all vampires think a soul is filthy, but … somehow … There has to be more."

He sighed loudly. After a moment, he pulled her close, his arms coming around her waist, his eyes locking with hers. "Let's just say, we had, on occasion, similar taste in women."

"Oh?," one of her brows came up. "Do tell."

He sighed again, quite obviously not comfortable with the subject. But there was no pain in his eyes, and so she pushed on. Poking a finger in his chest, she wrapped her other arm around his neck. "Well, tell me."

He grinned, "I'd rather kiss you. Your pouts are adorable."

She narrowed her eyes, not responding to his attempt to seduce her, "Don't try to evade the question, mister. Distracting me …," she sighed when his teeth nibbled at her earlobe, "… will get to everywhere."

Angel's laugh was low and seductive and she felt shivers run up and down her spine. "Angel," she breathed, his lips now travelling a path from her earlobe to her chin. She'd read in one of the women's magazines that some men could do magic with their lips. Well, Angel certainly was one of them. "God," she managed, her knees going weak. "You certainly know how to do this." But dammit, he was not going to distract her like this. Not again. Whenever she'd tried to approach the subject he'd managed to find a way out. Well, no more.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned all her remaining will - there wasn't really a lot left - and pushed her palms against his shoulders. Obviously surprised at the sudden change in her, he raised his head. "What?"

Her chin came up, daring him to try anything like that again, "Tell," she demanded.

He looked at her intently for a moment and he must have seen something in her eyes, because after a moment he straightened, but without loosening his embrace, "This isn't a comfortable subject for me, Buffy."

"Who would have guessed," she joked, but her eyes were serious. Realising there was more behind all this, she put a hand on his cheek, "Hey, I'm not going to condemn you, Angel. "

He laughed at that, but it was a nervous sound. "Well, you might," he said, his arms tightening around her waist. "Alright then." He took a deep breath, "You know I'm Dru's Sire, right?" When he saw her nod, he went on. "Angelus in general had a … more than healthy sexual appetite … and …"

"Oh …," she surprised him completely by grinning suddenly. "You mean you and Dru …," another laugh, "Oh, wow. You had a thing for loony-tunes Drusilla?"

He couldn't help but being slightly annoyed by her lax attitude towards a subject he'd thought would be painful for her. "I wouldn't really call it a 'thing', but yeah, Dru and I …"

She laughed again, but seeing him frown darkly at her, she raised on her tiptoes, planted a firm kiss on his lips, "Well, all I can say is, good you have your soul now. Because having a thing for Dru … honestly, it's pathetic."

He managed a weak smile, still hardly able to understand why she didn't mind the least. But maybe, other than he, she'd already understood the difference between ensouled and soulless version. "Pathetic, huh?"

"Yeah," she grinned, "You're way better off with me."

His responding grin was genuine, "I agree. With all my heart."

They kissed, then pulled away from each other, yet their hands were still entwined when they continued to walk. They were silent for a while, before she spoke again, "So … this similar taste in women, you and Spike had. Did it happen more than once?"

"Yeah," he shot her a sideways glance, not sure what she was up to.

"And you always won the girl?"

"Uh … most of the times I just took her."

"Uh-huh."

Another silence.

And then she finally started to laugh, so hard, she had to stop walking, her whole body shaking with it.

He stared at her, taken aback. "What?"

"I …," laugh, "just had a thought."

"And that was so funny?"

"Way funny," she confirmed. "I thought ….," more laughter, "what if Spike had a thing for me?"

Well, he didn't think that was funny at all. Because deep inside he already had had the same thought. The way Spike looked at Buffy, there was more than just casual interest in his eyes. "That's not funny," he growled.

"Oh," she tried to catch her breath, but couldn't stop laughing, "I think it's hilarious."

"No," he replied firmly, grabbing her shoulders. "It's not."

"But it is. It is," she insisted.

"Stop it, Buffy," he demanded, his jealousy getting the best of him.

"Man, that must drive him out of his mind, a soulless vampire having the hots for the Slayer of all people," she said, her forehead falling against his chest. "Poor Spike."

He looked down at her blond crown, and his lips twitched. "Well, if you put it that way. Still," his scowl was back in place, "I don't like the thought of it."

At that her head came up, her eyes suddenly dark with passion, "I like you all manly and jealous."

In response his eyes darkened as well. "Do you now?" His voice was low, rough.

"Hmmm," she made, licking her lips.

He felt himself harden in an instant. "Buffy," he hissed, looking around. "That's not really the place to-"

"Oh, stop it," she pouted, "You're such a bore."

"A bore, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she grinned, then shrieked when he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. "And behaving like a caveman is so out."

"You wanted it," he replied mercilessly.

"I did, didn't I," she giggled. In response he laughed.

The two vampires who'd been watching them for the last ten minutes, retreated behind a bush, looking at each other in confusion.

"That really was the Slayer?," the first said.

"Yeah. That's her," the other replied.

"And Angelus?"

"Yeah."

"Are you really telling me that's the girl who put Spike in a wheelchair?"

"Yeah."

A moan came from near by, accompanied by a male growl.

"What the hell's wrong with them."

"They're in love."

"Love?" The first vampire raised a brow, then shook his head, "Man, I think you're living here too long already. Love? Such a stupid-"

The words died on his lips when a stake suddenly pierced through his heart, and he and his companion turned into dust.

Buffy brushed off her shirt, sighed, "Why do they always have to disturb our privacy?"

"Why don't we call it a night," he suggested, searching the ground for his stake. "Doesn't seem as if a lot is going to happen tonight."

"Yeah," she agreed, taking his hand again, "Did I tell you that mom's in San Francisco until tomorrow night?"

"No. So what are we still doing here?"

"That's what I was asking you," she replied, giving him a devilish grin, letting go of his hand, starting to run towards his apartment. He easily caught up with her.

They barely made it to his bed.

In his apartment, Jenny snuggled deeper into Giles' embrace. The watcher smiled down at her, listened to her even breathing. He thought about his father who once had told him forgiveness was the greatest gift.

Giles closed his eyes. There was no doubt, his father had been a very wise man.

END