They were patrolling again. 

It had become their nightly ritual, and something that both slayers found they enjoyed doing together. For Buffy it was a relaxation of worrying for her friends who thought they were helping, but who often needed saving instead. For Faith it was a new experience; she never had anyone to do…pretty much anything with. It was nice, nice and new and she hoped she didn’t screw it up. 

Tonight the topic of conversation was on ex’s. Specifically, on Angel. 

“Come on, B,” Faith cajoled as they wandered through the gravestones. “I know you had this big old thing for him. Tell me what it was like.” 

“What do you want me to say, Faith?” Buffy asked, exasperated. She was still worried about Angel, he was doing better – much better than that horrible night a week ago when she found him curled on the floor, unresponsive. “That Angel was…he was…” Buffy stopped and tried to catch her breath. 

Was/is. He was and still is and how was she to explain it to anyone, let alone Faith? Faith had never met Angel; she had no real basis for comparison. But if she could ask, after so long, then why couldn’t anyone else see? 

“You loved him,” Faith said and this time there was none of the cynicism in her voice that often coated her words on relationships. On pretty much everything. 

“Yes,” Buffy whispered. 

“You still do,” Faith continued and there was a note of wonder in her voice now. 

“Yes,” Buffy agreed again, her voice still quiet. “I think I always will.”

“What happened?” And it was genuine curiosity now, the other slayer wanted to know what happened to Buffy; not to mock or jest, but because Buffy was her friend and wasn’t that what friends did? She was pretty sure, but this whole friendship thing was new to her. “Tell me,” she urged, “Tell me why you fell in love with a vampire.” 

“I didn’t know he was a vampire,” Buffy admitted. “Not at first. I thought the tingle that I felt was because he was hot and I was attracted to him. How was I supposed to know he was a vampire when he helped me? Vamps aren’t supposed to help the slayer.” 

Faith said nothing to the rueful comment, though she agreed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this Angel, but it was unimportant. He was gone, dead or something in that hell dimension – Willow and Xander took a weird kind of perverse pleasure in telling her the details of that day and Acathla. She was silent as she waited for Buffy to compose herself and continue. 

“I fell for him before I knew that he was a vamp and then afterwards, we tried to-tried to stay away from each other, but couldn’t.” Buffy closed her eyes for a minute, remembering the difficulties of those months. It was strange how they paralleled her life with Angel now. “But then he had information about this prophecy, and it was all down hill from there.” 

“You couldn’t stay away from him,” Faith said, waiting. When Buffy said nothing more, she asked, “Why not?” 

“Because it was harder to stay away than it was to care that he was a vamp and I was the slayer.” 

At Buffy’s straightforward tone, her matter of fact statement, Faith paused. She was impressed, this was…interesting. And love. Faith hadn’t ever had that in her life, not from anyone. It was a basic and fundamental gift and yet she’d never experienced it. Buffy had and Faith was extremely jealous…and saddened for her friend. If this was what love was like, she wanted no parts of it. 

It destroyed you, hollowed you out and made you less of a person. But then, Faith thought as the pair wandered towards the warehouse district, this was the aftermath. And the beforemath hadn’t been pretty at all…or at least according to Willow, Cordelia, Xander, and that was where she’d gotten all her information. Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t understand. If Buffy could only explain it to Faith, maybe the other slayer could understand. 

Buffy swiped at her eyes and Faith turned away and pretended to study some nearby bushed for suspicious activity, providing the other slayer a moment to herself. Faith wasn’t good with emotions, not hers, not other’s, but she understood something now that she hadn’t before. Buffy still loved Angel and always would; maybe over time it’d dim, as Buffy aged and moved on…if she did, being the slayer and all. But Angel would always hold a place in her heart – a large place that couldn’t ever be taken by someone else. 

If he was still alive, maybe something could’ve been worked out between them. Or maybe they would’ve grown apart naturally, as people sometimes did. But since Angel was dead, or at least dead in the sense of never returning to her, Buffy mourned his passing. She couldn’t move on. 

Hoping that she gave her sister enough time to compose herself – and not even thinking about what she’d do if she hadn’t, Faith was so not good with the tears – Faith turned back to her. They continued their walk in silence for a few more minutes, skipping the abandoned warehouses to meander through well-known paths in cemeteries that had seen entirely too much action. Buffy’s thoughts drifted, as always, to Angel and she wondered how soon she could get away from Faith to see him. 

She’d stopped by the mansion early this morning, but couldn’t stay long before she had to get to school. No one said anything about her recent absence and for that Buffy was grateful. Apparently, either she was getting better at lying to them, something she readily believed, they knew she was lying and just needed time to herself, or they really didn’t understand anything about her. Whichever the reason, Buffy didn’t care. They didn’t ask, she didn’t tell, and her secret was safe for another night. 

“What do you think of Mrs. Post?” Faith asked in an abrupt change of subject. “The,” and here her voice took on the snooty English accent that the older woman had, “New watcher?” 

“I think she’s got a British flag up her butt that’s never coming out,” Buffy said without thinking. Faith burst out laughing and Buffy blushed, but joined in. 

“Way to go, B,” Faith laughed as they exited one cemetery for another. “You don’t think that she’s gong to stay?” Or worse, but Faith didn’t say this, take her away? She didn’t want to leave Sunnydale, Home of the Hellmouth, didn’t want to leave the growing friendship she had with Buffy. Didn’t want to be on her own again. 

“Who cares?” Buffy asked and wondered where this attitude came from. But she knew. It was partly Faith, and when the other girl couldn’t behave in her usual arrogant way, when she was scared – as she obviously was now – Buffy took over. The other part was that the fewer people around who knew the situation, the better for all involved. Namely she and Angel. 

“She’s entirely too interested in this arm thingy to care what you do,” Buffy pointed out, “And Giles hates listening to anyone else about how to do his job. It’s a leftover from his bad boy rebellion days at Oxford.” 

“But can’t she, I don’t know, she’s a Watcher. Can’t she separate us?” Faith asked as they rounded a tree-shadowed corner of the cemetery. “Oh, hello, boys,” she said as they came across a quartet of vamps…talking? Now that was new. What could they be talking about? 

Without waiting to find out, Faith attacked. The first punch to the startled pack of vamps – was it really a pack when there were only four? – sent one flying into a headstone, cracking the memorial to Andrea Thomas, Beloved Wife. Buffy quickly staked the vamp before her and rounded on another one. 

They really did work well together, Buffy thought as she and Faith fed off each other’s moves, using their entire bodies to compliment the other and stake the vamps before them. One had Faith cornered, his rather large bulk and considerable strength pinning her to the ground, trying to mash her face into the dirt. Pounding on the vamp before her, trying to get to Faith, Buffy staked the man and then whirled to find her sister slayer. 

Who was doing just fine on her own, it seemed, for she’d managed to roll under the heavy vampire, facing him as she slipped her stake between them and dusted him. Not a moment too soon, for his fangs were just grazing her neck and a small well of blood appeared there. Reaching down, Buffy gave Faith a hand up and dabbed at the wound on her neck. 

“It doesn’t look too bad,” she said, absently wiping the blood on her pants. “But it was close.” 

“Heavy motherfucker,” Faith said as she scowled at the blood on her own fingers. 

“So it looked.” 

“Bastard,” Faith grumbled, still fussing with the closing wound on her neck. Looking around hopefully, she asked, “Think there are any more? I need to pound on one, and this one,” she kicked the dust mixing with the dirt and grass, “Isn’t going to work.” 

Shrugging, they started off again, planning on finishing their patrol and then heading to the Bronze. It’d become another part of their nightly ritual. School – which Faith didn’t attend – then home, Faith usually ate dinner with Buffy and Joyce, then a quick stop at Giles’, either at the library or his condo. From there they hit all twelve cemeteries and both parks, sometimes the warehouse district and the docks, Willy’s if they needed information, then the Bronze. 

It was routine, though they often changed their cemetery patrol route in case the vamps and demons actually realized that the slayers had a routine. Something to keep them on their toes. Usually Buffy would leave after an hour at the Bronze, claiming homework, tiredness, or that she wanted to patrol by the high school or someplace they hadn’t hit that night. Faith stayed at the Bronze, drinking and screwing her latest find, sometimes heading home alone after Buffy left, sometimes staying until the bouncer politely asked her to leave. 

“Where were we?” Buffy asked as they came upon a lone vamp and she let Faith have him. She had anger management issues to work out. “With the whole Mrs. Post thing?” 

“Ignoring her,” Faith grunted as the vamp got in a lucky shot to her belly. Damn this one was feisty. She liked them like that, grabbed the long black hair of the woman, and pulled. 

“Right,” Buffy nodded, glancing at her nails and frowning. She so needed a manicure. “Maybe we can break her like we did Giles,” she offered as Faith staked the vampiress. “He was all tweedy and snobbish when I first met him.” 

“How long did it take you to break him?” Faith asked as she dusted the vamp dust from her hair. 

“Hmmm,” Buffy thought as they finished their patrol and headed for the Bronze. “I’d say a week. Maybe two, but every once in a while he gets that ‘I’m the Englishman here and we created the world’ look on his face.” 

Faith snorted in laughter as they breezed into the club. “I don’t think Post is going to be that easy.” 

“Probably not,” Buffy agreed. “And why is she so obsessed with the demon and arm-glove thingy?” 

“No idea,” Faith shrugged as she grabbed her usual beer from the bartender and handed him some cash – his boss was there, she had to make it look good or she’d never get served no matter what or who she did. And jail didn’t look good on her. “But it’s creepy.” 

“Agreed.” And with that, they took their usual place on the dance floor, letting the beat wash over them. Getting lost in the music and trying – desperately – to forget their past, their problems, their future. 

Buffy left after her usual hour, claiming tiredness and a headache, and Faith wandered to the table where Oz and Willow sat. She wasn’t overly friendly with them, but they were Buffy’s friends and she did have to spend time with them whether she liked it or not. She was still unsure if she liked it or not, but at least Oz was cool. In that I’ve got nothing much to say and when I do, I’ll let you know, way. 

“Hey,” she said and plopped herself down. No one had caught her attention yet tonight, but she was willing to wait it out. If not, then she’d dance. At least in dancing, she could try to forget…forget her mom and her life before slaying. Forget the gruesome sight of her first watcher being slaughtered before her eyes – Faith still had nightmares about that and doubted they’d ever go away. Forget her bleak life before this new strength fell into her lap. 

“Faith,” Oz nodded and Willow waved happily. Whatever Red was on, she seemed happy and willing to share it. 

“Do you guys know what’s wrong with B?” Faith asked as she knocked back her shot glass of vodka. 

“Something’s the matter with Buffy?” Willow asked, concerned as she sipped her soda. “She seemed fine this afternoon at school.” 

“I think,” Faith said slowly, wondering how to get more information out of the couple without actually asking. “That she’s…lonely.” 

“She misses him,” Oz nodded. 

“She does?” Willow asked and then frowned. “He so doesn’t deserve her,” she scowled. “Not after the way he treated her at the dance.” Oblivious to the confused looks of Oz and Faith, Willow stabbed her straw into the settling ice. “Stupid Scott, what does he know anyway?” 

Faith gaped at Buffy’s supposed best friend. Scott? That little twerp? So not what she meant when she brought the subject up. Glancing at Oz, she saw that Red’s boy knew it, too. She opened her mouth to correct her, but Oz shook his head. Frowning, Faith let it go, but didn’t know why. 

“Not Scott,” Oz said slowly, eyes darting briefly to Faith. “I think Faith meant Angel.” 

Willow frowned but said nothing. What was she supposed to say? Angel was dead, or stuck in a hell dimension and never coming back. And while the redheaded witch knew that Buffy loved the vampire with everything in her, he was gone. It was time to move on. Willow thought that Scott was a good first step. Obviously she’d been wrong, the boy had dumped Buffy for some taller girl whose name Willow should’ve known. Willow was fairly certain that they’d gone to school together since the fourth grade. 

“Oh,” Willow shrugged and looked down at her cup.

Standing, Faith rolled her shoulders and prepared to head back out to the dance floor. “Faith,” Oz called and she stopped, turned. “What happened to your neck?” He looked concerned and made a motion to the side of her neck where the vamp had gotten lucky. 

“Lucky one tonight,” she winked it off. “But don’t worry, I got him good.” So saying, she left the table and went to lose herself in the music once more.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy raced up the hill and across bracken and roots that threatened to halt her progress. 

She could feel Angel the closer she got to him and wondered why. Was it because she couldn’t live without him, because she loved him so much? Or was it something more, something deeper? Or was it simply because she wanted to, because she knew she was so close, almost there? 

Racing through the doors, she was unsurprised to find him waiting right there for her. He always was. 

Jumping into his arms, she kissed him. It was wrong. It was dangerous; they couldn’t do it, they couldn’t tempt fate this way. It was…necessary. Pulling back, she flashed him a bright smile and waited. But Angel didn’t push the issue, he released her, letting her slide down his body. Buffy stifled a gasp at the feel of him against her, hard and ready for her. She stepped away anyway. 

“I missed you,” she said as he led them to the couch, their normal resting place. 

“I missed you, too,” he said and was pleased with himself. The words were coming easier now, not a lot easier, but they were there. Being around Buffy helped, it calmed him so he could think what he wanted to say. When she was away he couldn’t always say what he wanted to, not that he had anyone to say anything to. 

Buffy beamed at him and set about telling him about her day from the moment she left him to the moment she raced into his arms once more. Angel listened, asked questions about things he didn’t understand or remember – calculus was one of them, but so was Gwendolyn Post. 

“She’s the new watcher,” Buffy said, feeling her eyes close. She was so tired and leaning against Angel was so comfortable. “She’s Faith’s new watcher. Strange woman, all about finding this glove hand thingy that she says she doesn’t want some demon to get.” 

“Glove-hand?” Angel asked, not knowing what the word was. 

“The Glove of Myhnegon,” Buffy elaborated, trying to pronounce the word correctly. She knew how to say it, that wasn’t the point, but who cared? “Someone named Lagos is looking for it, and this new watcher claims that,” here her voice rose into the snooty English accent Faith affected so well earlier. “No record of this glove’s full power exists, but we do know it is highly dangerous and must not fall into the hands of a demon. Lagos must be stopped.” 

Buffy paused. “Isn’t Lagos a country in Africa?” 

Angel looked at her and frowned. Something seemed familiar about Lagos – the demon, not the country – but he couldn’t place what. Buffy looked at him, watched his eyes take that unfocused look that they did when he was trying to remember something. Suddenly, “I know where it is.” 

“You do?” Buffy asked, surprised. “Where?” Then she smiled. “If I can get the glove, then Annoying-Watcher can leave, and Faith and I can go back to our routine. I really,” she mumbled, “Don’t like her.” 

“I’ll get it for you,” he said and stood to do just that. 

“Angel?” Buffy called as he stood, gently placing her on the couch. “Now?” 

“Now,” he repeated, gathering his socks and shoes, slipping them on as he grabbed his coat form the entryway table. 

“I’ll come with,” she said, worried for him. Not just him, but anyone who could see him. 

“I’ll…” he stopped, selecting his wording. “I’ll be back soon. It will take a short time,” he fumbled for the words, growling softly at his lack of ability. “I’ll be fast. Wait for me?” 

“Yes,” Buffy nodded and watched him leave. She should follow him, she thought, just in case. But she needed him to trust her, and if she did that, if she followed him, then he’d know and that would break whatever trust they’d managed to rebuild. So she settled onto the couch, pulling a pillow under her head and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. 

When Angel returned barely an hour later, Buffy was fast asleep on the couch. Placing the Glove on the floor, still carefully wrapped in the old cloth, he gently picked her up and headed for his bedroom. Setting her on the bed, Angel debated an entire half a second before he slowly unwrapped the blanket that was twisted around her. She sighed once, but didn’t waken. 

Obviously exhausted, Buffy slept on as Angel removed her shoes, socks, unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them from her body. Her shirt was next, and harder, but he managed to slowly, carefully raise it over her head. He took measured care with her, not wanting to wake her. This wasn’t how he wanted it, but he was desperate. Deep within him clawed a need to join with her. He couldn’t be without her, not anymore, and while every day they moved closer and closer to what he wanted, needed, HAD TO HAVE, it wasn’t fast enough. 

Panties and bra were next, and then she lay before him. Perfection. Naked perfection. And all his. 

His cool lips trailed over her body, as gentle as a butterfly’s touch, no need to wake her. He was aching and hard and needed to bury himself deep within her waiting heat. His tongue flicked over her core, the scent drawing him closer, willing him to taste her. Abruptly pulling away when she shifted in her sleep, Angel dared not risk her discovering his actions. 

She wouldn’t let him continue no matter how she enjoyed it. And she was definitely enjoying herself. Running his fingers over her clit, he purred in delight at her sigh, a whisper of his name. Wasting no more time, he entered her and Buffy automatically wrapped arms and legs about him, moving with his slow rhythm. 

Her eyes were barely opened, but he knew she knew who it was, what was happening. They moved together, their movements speeding up as Angel’s fingers again found her clit, teasing the nub. Buffy’s eyes flew open but it was too late. 

She screamed his name as her orgasm washed over her, rippling through her body in wave after wave of such intense pleasure she thought she’d passed out. Roaring her name, Angel burying his face in her neck, fangs lengthening of their own accord to pierce her delicate skin. He took only a few sips, her slayer blood exploding over his tongue just as his orgasm exploded through him. Surprised, Buffy felt her body respond, felt another orgasm rip through her at the feel of Angel’s fangs in her throat. 

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her. 

What had she done? 

“Buffy,” Angel purred, licking the puncture marks on her neck. They weren’t deep and would close quickly. But they were a sign of his possession; any vamp who got close to her would know that. She was his, his for all to see. The bite wasn’t a Mark, Angel knew that even now, but he wanted to wait for that. He needed to explain everything to her when he did – and he would – Mark her. Now wasn’t the time, not when he couldn’t form all the words he knew he’d need. “I love you.” 

Buffy remained stiff and unmoving as Angel gathered her in his arms, pillowing her head on his arm, nestling her back against his front. A single tear leaked from her tightly closed eyes as the full weight of their actions settled heavily on her shoulders. What had she done? 

Angel slept behind her, as Buffy waited. She waited for Angelus to return, for Angel’s sweet innocent soul to leave the body. To leave her. She waited for the consequences of her actions to manifest themselves and she waited for her lover to…leave her once again. 

Buffy remembered where the chains were, the ones she originally used to hold Angel when he came back. She used the time to plan out different ways to get to them should Angelus return as she feared he would. Through the front door, into the sunlight then back around the gardens as quickly as she could to grab them. Maybe she could slip out now and get them, just in case? Buffy moved, but Angel tightened his hold on her, murmuring her name softly. 

No, she couldn’t get them without him realizing it. A soft sob escaped her lips and Buffy tried to halt the tears. God, what had she done? 

The stake Angel evidently found in the waistband of her jeans lay on the floor by her side of the bed within easy reach and she’d watched it throughout the night. It hadn’t moved, and neither had she. 

She waited as the moon rose high in the sky, her bare light illuminating their room. She waited, struggling to remain awake though she was exhausted. Sated, loved, exhausted. She hadn’t been getting nearly enough sleep lately, so concerned about Angel and keeping all the parts of her life juggling nicely in the air. 

She waited as the moon set, as the first rays of dawn pinkened the sky. She waited when Angel finally stirred, and she wondered how she’d survive it again. Killing her lover again. 

She waited as Angel smiled against her shoulder, his lips curving against her warm skin, sending shivers down her back. Arousal. Fear. She waited as he rolled her over, mouth finding hers, tasting hers. 

Nothing happened. Oh, something was, Angel was clearly aroused, wanting to make love to her again. But…nothing happened. No Angelus, no losing of the soul, no…what happened? 

“Angel?” Buffy asked, wondering at the croak that was her voice, as she worked up the courage to ask what needed to be asked. She’d been so careful all this time, knowing the limits they could stretch, the line they couldn’t cross. They’d pushed it, oh, they’d pushed it, but Buffy couldn’t – wouldn’t let either of them – cross it. No matter how much she wanted to. 

“Morning,” he responded, mouth now trailing down to suckle on her breast. 

Gasping, Buffy held him closer for a moment before pulling his head from her breast. “What happened?” 

Confused, Angel stared at her for a moment. “We made love,” he said in that slow and halting speech of his. “I love you, wanted you.” 

“But,” tears again pooled in her eyes, making them look like liquid pools of jade. “I told you,” she nearly sobbed. “We can’t!”

“Can,” he insisted. “Can because…you are mine.” 

Maybe, Buffy thought as Angel removed her hands from his face and resumed his position on her breast. Maybe it didn’t happen the first time? Maybe…oh, God. Maybe she wasn’t his perfect happiness anymore? Was that it? Was that what he’d been trying to tell her? That he could make love to her because…because she wasn’t his perfect happiness anymore? 

How pathetically sad that she cried because she hadn’t lost her lover. But then what was the answer? What could be the answer? 

“Buffy crying?” He asked, his lips tracing the path her tears had made. “Don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “Won’t hurt you.” 

“No?” Buffy wondered. 

“Love you. Can’t hurt you. Mine,” he said again and Buffy wondered just what he meant by that. “Buffy-” he broke off. “You are mine,” he whispered, face set in hard lines as he concentrated on the words he wanted to use. His eyes, however, conveyed nothing but love and trust. “We belong,” he continued slowly, “Together. I love you, you love me. I can’t…can’t leave. You. Can’t leave you,” he said, growling at the words that wouldn’t come in the order he wished. 

“Never leaving you.” 

Kissing her softly, Angel tried to explain with his touch what he meant. His body was gentle, hands caressing her flesh, arousing her through her terror and grief. “Love you,” he whispered over and over again and eventually Buffy believed him. He wasn’t Angelus; he wasn’t the evil twin of her beautiful lover. He wasn’t going to lose his soul, and while Buffy didn’t pretend to understand it, the whys and hows and why nots, she accepted it. 

Angel’s words convinced her, his gentle touch, his mouth as he worshiped her. And deep, deep in her heart, where she harbored the last of the fear over Angelus’ retuning, over Angel leaving, over so much of the heartache and anguish of the past months, Buffy felt something. More specifically, in that secret chamber within her heart that shadowed her fear, she felt nothing. Angel was with her, he loved her, and he was showing her that love. 

He wasn’t leaving. 

When he thrust into her this time, Buffy was ready for it, anticipating it. She needed him, had always needed him. Moving with him, fully conscious of her actions and his, Buffy let her lover show her what he’d been trying to for the last several weeks. 

He was here. He was back. Angel wasn’t ever leaving again. And he loved her. 

Just as the first rays of sunlight splashed over the horizon, the indirect light bathing the room, Buffy climaxed, shouting Angel’s name as she wrapped her body around his. “I love you,” she whispered. 

Angel rolled them so Buffy was splayed over his chest, holding her tightly to him. He didn’t want to let her go for fear that she’d try to leave him. He wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but didn’t want her to, either. “Love you,” he told her again, lest she forget. She hadn’t.

But just in case, Buffy stayed awake for a little while longer, forcing her overtired body to wait…wait…wait. But it never came. Angel remained peaceful underneath her, arms wrapped tightly around her body, holding her close. 

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