Yesterday… 

God he was tired. 

Bone deep weary. And angry. Oh, yes, let’s not forget that. He blamed…everyone for that. Cordelia first and foremost with her ‘I love you but I can’t be with you because of what you were as Angelus.’ 

Whatever. 

Buffy never had that kind of problem…well, okay, yes she did yet she still stayed with him. But that fear was because she was terrified that his demon was, logically enough, going to go after her. He could understand, to a point really he could, and she had gotten over it quickly enough. It hadn’t lessened the hurt but it at least made sense. 

And he, both sides of Angel, the demon and the soul, knew that whatever she felt for one was echoed in the other. That was the reason Angelus was so hard on her, that was the reason she couldn’t kill him until there was absolutely no other choice.
That was the reason both soul and demon loved her, even now… 

Cordelia had never actually faced Angelus. She was on the sidelines for his little reign of terror in Sunnydale. So what the hell did she know? 

And Connor…could he blame his son? Angel wasn’t sure, yet the rage was there all the same. But Connor was young and naïve despite all he had been through, his experiences were only in one area, fighting and surviving. He may have wanted to hurt his father, but Angel firmly believed that his son cared and deeply for Cordelia. 

It made him more than a little nauseous because the young man was a baby last year, but again, whatever. 

Lorne, Fred, they pushed and prodded until there was no choice but to think, ‘Hey, maybe there is something here, something more than what I see.’ He was wrong in listening to them and in assuming they had any idea what they were talking about, obviously, for if they had been right then this whole situation would never have happened. 

Flopping onto his bed, Angel closed his eyes, willing sleep to overtake him. 

And that was another thing Buffy never would have done. Sleep with someone else because she couldn’t handle his demon. She hadn’t done that…until he had left her high and dry and aching inside, willing to do anything to ease the pain and suffering, anything to stay off the loneliness for just a little while because the pain was so much and so overwhelming that it was literally possible to die from it. 

Buffy… 

Just the name brought a smile to his face, even in the half awake state he was in, his body trying to heal, his heart trying not to break. Was this how Buffy felt when Riley cheated on her with those vampire whores? Yeah, she told him about that and if Angel ever saw that boy again… 

But Buffy… 

She was good and pure and she loved him. She loved him when he was trying to destroy her and she loved him when he came back from the literal pits of Hell. She cared for him and brought him back to full health, helping him through the First’s manipulations and staying by him even after… 

She had always loved him. 

Finally drifting off to sleep, the twin emotions of hate and love bombarding him, Angel dreamed. 

His soul was free in the remembrance of his love, the two perfect nights he had his golden goddess in his arms, the two unforgettable (let’s not go there his mind said, let’s just remember the time, their time, that’s what counts) nights during which he worshipped Buffy’s body, tasting and touching and finally coming together as one; as they were always meant to… 

Deep down, though, was the haunting reminder that his closest friend had betrayed him had confessed her love for him but had turned around and slept with his son…his son for the love of God! She was practically the only mother a young Connor had known, had changed his diapers and fed him and stayed up with the both of them – Angel and Connor – when the younger was fussy. 

Yeah, pity fuck no doubt about that. 

Oh, yes, the rage was there, slowly eating away at him, building, boiling, threatening to consume…but it didn’t burn as brightly as his love for his slayer. 

She rose over him, golden and magnificent and his, all his for no matter who she had taken later, she was his, the mark proved that, the fact that she always, always came back to him proved that. The fact that they were joined by soul and by blood, by love and hate and everything in between, there was nothing that could ever take that away from them, no matter the state of their relationship. 

… “I love you, my sweet Angel,” he heard her whisper and smiled. 

“Buffy, I love you, forever…” 

And for a moment, for one fraction of a second the soul was at peace for she was the only one to ever bring him that, and so he relaxed, letting her love and affection, her understanding and caring and everything she was and everything they were together wash over him…

…And in that moment the demon reared up, screaming with a roar that was enough to deafen the city block, taking control of the body though he could feel, faintly, just there underneath his rage and hunger and need, oh, yes, the need, for his mate, for revenge…he could feel the soul. 

Trapped and caught, it was weak from too much, from one too many betrayals from not having the rock that he once had, for not having Buffy to boost his confidence, for having a finicky and bossy supposed friend betray him. 

And Angelus awoke, smirk in place as he realized what had happened and then he started to chuckle and then he started to laugh… 

And the world was never going to be the same…
~~~~~~~~~~
They trudged into the hotel, much the worse for wear. 

Never had they faced something like this, never had they faced an apocalypse they couldn’t beat. Wesley wondered, briefly, if this was what Buffy felt when she was forced to fight her sister slayer and stop the mayor from turning into a big demon snake. And hadn’t Giles told him that Willow, sweet, kind, adorable Willow had tried to destroy the world last year out of horror and grief? 

He couldn’t imagine having to face one’s best friend as that friend was trying to annihilate all you were sworn to protect. 

“There’s something wrong, here, guys,” Lorne said, turning in a circle as if to discern the cause of his unease. 

“What?” Cordelia asked, tired and not a little ashamed. What had she done to Connor? She had enjoyed it, there was no mistaking that…well, the second time, no one’s first time was ever perfect was it, and she cared for the boy, she did. But was that the right thing to do? 

She wanted Angel, she did. Cordelia wanted him because…because she loved him, didn’t she? That vision proved it, it had to, she had told Skip, hadn’t she, and that had to mean something. Didn’t it? 

She loved Angel and wanted to be with him, wanted the kindness he showed lost children and traumatized people who couldn’t deal with their newfound knowledge of what went bump in the night. She loved him because…because he was handsome and treated her like she was the princess she always believed herself to be. She loved him because he bought her things, nice clothes and took her out, though the ballet wasn’t exactly her thing, it was posh and fancy and… 

Cordelia wanted him because he was good, he really was and when she was near him, some of that good, some of that aura of the champion, of the hero he was rubbed off on her and made her feel that she was more than she actually was, made her feel as if she was in the spotlight, reaping the rewards of those who thanked him. 

Curse be damned, that was Buffy’s deal, Cordelia had absolutely no intention of becoming stalking bait, she’d use the connections they had amassed over the years and find some way around it. Curse or no, she would have Angel… 

Maybe a little of it, just a little mind you, so small it was hardly worth mentioning, maybe a little of it was that she was jealous. Jealous that in high school Buffy had had Angel and the vampire hadn’t looked twice at her, Cordelia…unless he was trying to kill her. Angel had been so wrapped up in Buffy, even after he became Angelus, that no one but she existed.  

And Cordelia was jealous. Raging, seething, jealously that made her look twice at Xander for obviously pathetic reasons and caused her no end of trouble as she fought, actually fought, with the Sunnydale gang.

When she told Angel that she experienced everything that Angelus did, she meant it literally, everything. Everything from the moment he killed that caretaker in the cemetery he was buried in to the second the gypsies tore his soul from the ether and forcibly shoved it back into his body. 

Everything he had thought and felt and wanted and needed when he had been terrorizing Sunnydale a few short years ago, everything he wanted to do to and with Buffy, the rage and the need she invoked in him and the desperation and fury at her repeated rebuttals.  

He had realized, too late, that the way to her heart wasn’t exactly the way he was going.

But by then it was too late and he had worked himself into a fine Irish temper, wanting to awaken Acathla, open the mouth (or a mouth, pesky semantics, really) to hell. And even then, as he had fought Buffy to the point of death, he hadn’t wanted to kill her. No, he wanted her alive. Wanted her to be his slave, his concubine, his lover, his mate. But his, only his. 

Even in hell she was all he could think of, all he could remember when even his own identity was stripped away. The memory of her had sustained him through centuries of torture and pain and when he had returned, she was still the only damn thing he knew. 

And never once did he think of Cordelia. It was all, always, about Buffy.  

And now, finally, after all these years together, after all she had given up for him, it was Cordelia’s turn. And if she had slept with his only son, that miracle child she had convinced Angel Buffy needn’t know about, that meant nothing, simply a means to an end; Angel being the end. 

“What do you mean, Lorne?” She asked at length though from the looks of it, her inner monologue hadn’t lasted as long as she had thought. 

“Something’s off,” Connor agreed as he gripped the double-sided ax tighter, having never put it down to begin with.

Gunn took position next to the boy, whatever animosity he still harbored – and it was quite a lot – momentarily forgotten as they faced yet another potential threat. They had met Connor, helping a still weak Cordelia, half way back to the hotel. Neither had seen Angel and Gunn could honestly say that he was more than a little worried. 

Just then Angel walked down the stairs, freshly bathed and looking a little better than he had when last Gunn saw him. Or rather when last Gunn imagined what had happened to him – that fall had to hurt. 

“Angel, man, you had us worried.” Gunn said, smiling at his friend but for some reason not releasing his grip on his own sword. 

“Really?” He replied, offhandedly, eyes focused on Cordelia still being supported by his son. “Came back here after my little…tumble; wanted to feed before the big nasty showed back up.” 

Which was all true…Angel had returned to the hotel, unfettered hatred burning in his gut and dreamt about their mate. The combination of the soul’s weakness over the demon in that moment of hate and the memory of Buffy in their arms had allowed the demon to force his way through. And then Angelus had waited for the inevitable reunion of his little team. 

“He’s gone,” Lorne said, still wary and backing up a pace or two when Angelus’ eyes locked with his own red ones. “Uh…uh…oh, shit.” 

At the uncharacteristically uttered profanity every member of the AI team looked at the green-skinned demon. 

“Lorne?” Fred asked, concerned, “Are you all right? You seem a little pale. Well, a paler green than usual, I mean…” 

She trailed off when Angel laughed. Not the most pleasant of sounds, but she had no experience with an Angel that was brooding or sad or not at all what his friends expected him to be. Had no experience with an Angel who was really Angelus and who was about to rip all their heads off and dance in their blood. 

Cordelia reacted first. Wes wasn’t far behind, with Gunn picking up on the unspoken fear and connecting the dots in quick succession. Fred was clueless, but again that was because her experience with Angel was of one who suppressed all that he really was because his friends couldn’t really accept it. 

Some friends… 

But it was Lorne who spoke first. “He’s not Angel, dear, he’s Angelus.” 

And the way he said it, ‘An-jealous’ caused the vampire to laugh again. He much preferred Buffy’s pronunciation as all one word, Angel-us, in that soft breathy moan of hers. 

Soon, my love… 

“What…?” Cordelia still couldn’t believe this, after everything they had been through, when he was finally willing to accept them as a couple HE WENT AND LOST HIS SOUL? Her earlier thoughts were forgotten, as was her indiscretion with Connor in the wake of this new revelation.  

“How the hell did that happen?” Who the hell had given him perfect happiness, damn it? She was angry and the fact that that question probably wasn’t the best one to ask was also forgotten in the face of this brutal slap of reality. 

“Aw, Cordy,” he answered, mocking the use of the abbreviated version of her name. “You don’t know? Nary a vision one, huh? Damn, that’s just a shame. It’s like this. Love and hate go hand in hand, two sides of the same coin. Oh, and a sweet little dream of a certain blonde I’ll be reclaiming very soon.” 

With those cryptic words he walked slowly down the remaining stairs and out the door. No one tried to stop him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Wesley couldn’t believe his eyes. 

He desperately wanted to panic but now wasn’t exactly the time…well, maybe just a moment of unfettered terror, but that was all, just one moment. He’d worry about breaking down later, though whether he survived the upcoming days or not was anyone’s guess…his money was on not. 

They were doomed. No, no they weren’t. There were still options, he was sure of that. If there was one thing that both his brief time on the Hellmouth and his years here with the team had taught him it was that there was always one more option. 

He was going to have to fight his best friend. Maybe he did know what Buffy had gone through after all… 

“Slayer,” he said abruptly, coming out of the shocked trance everyone seemed to be caught in, moving with jerky movements of still numb limbs to the phone. 

“What?” Fred asked, voice as shaky as her hands, still not sure what was happening. What had just happened? 

“We’re going to need the Slayer, she was the only one who ever defeated Angelus and if he’s going after her as he said, then she needs to know, anyway.” 

Panicked, knowing that she’d never get her chance with Angel if Buffy was in the picture, or anywhere near the frame, and wondering how on earth that was relevant to their situation but not really caring, Cordy jumped in with, “Faith.” 

Now everyone was looking at her, confused almost as much as they were before. “We should break Faith out of jail. If Angelus is going after Buffy,” she reasoned hoping that they couldn’t tell she was making this up as she went, “Then she shouldn’t be anywhere near LA. It’ll only make things easier for him.” 

Wesley didn’t say anything, wondering why she was acting like this, and simply pressed the ‘play’ on the incessantly blinking machine as he thought about what Cordelia had said. 

“Angel? Wesley? Hell, Cordelia? Damn, it’s Giles, there’s something big going on here…” he hung up, the sounds of a beginning battle – or was that just arguing? – could be heard in the background. 

“Angel? Giles again, look, we need your help, it’s a long complicated story and you really don’t want to hear most of it, but the First is back and we need your help.” 

There were three more messages along the same vein, increasingly desperate but with no more details than before. 

“The First what?” Gunn asked, finally giving in and sitting down, numb – but unwilling to show it – from all the revelations of the past few hours. Angelus was gone; it was unlikely that he’d be back tonight…if he had wanted to kill them he could have done so before revealing who he truly was. 

“I don’t know,” Wes admitted, picking the phone up and dialing the Summers’ residence. It rang several times before the machine picked up. “Giles, Wesley here, I’m afraid we have our own apocalypse going on here, and there’s something else you should know. Here’s my cell number, I’m not sure where we’ll be but call me as soon as you can.” 

Puzzled Fred asked, still shaking from reaction to their evening and the knowledge that Angelus was back. Her mind stopped there, everything else was a blur. She didn’t know what that mean, exactly, but it wasn’t good. Everyone had said so. “Why didn’t you tell him about Angelus?” 

Giving her a looked that said it all, Wes answered briefly, “None of them need that, especially not over the phone or, well, on a machine. I’ll tell Giles and he can tell Buffy. They’ll need to be prepared for his return and…” 

“I still say we break Faith out of jail.” Cordelia said, walking away from Connor and into the middle of the room. “She’s faced Angelus before, or at least has fought Angel; and if there’s trouble in Sunnydale then Buffy’s needed there, right? Though the First does sound vaguely familiar.” 

Wes, too tired to argue, simply agreed. They needed a slayer, and Faith was closer, not involved in a current apocalypse – were they related? Probably – and had no real emotional ties to Angel, not like Buffy did at least.

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