Track A in Track B 

“Milady,” the tall dark haired minion whose name Darla couldn’t remember before she turned him several months ago, stood before her, head bowed. At least he was a quick study. “We have located the Slayer as you requested. She is now heading towards Whitehall.” 

Darla snickered at that news; the perfect place for that whore. “Deliver the note, then,” she instructed. Sitting back against her headboard, glass of virgin-blood tinged wine in her hand, Darla waited. Sometimes, things were just too easy. And sometimes, it all fell into place. 

Her Sire refused to see the Slayer for what she was; a nuisance. Darla saw all that and more. This wild quest the Master had to learn of the Slayer, to learn where she’d come from, why, and so on, was just madness. And madness that could get her nothing but trouble. 

The Master wasn’t looking clearly at the situation; all he saw was a new toy to play with. He didn’t see the danger she posed to his Order…to Darla’s family. 

But that was why he had her; to fix little nuisances like this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

“Promise me,” Elizabeth said for the fourth time. 

“Elizabeth,” Tara said, for the fifth time, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” the Slayer insisted. “I don’t want him following me. He belongs here; I don’t. If he follows me back…” she shook her head, imagining not only the chaos that that move would bring, but the pleasure, too. Alone with her Angel, Elizabeth smiled. But no, it couldn’t be. “He has a life here, friends,” she nodded to Cordelia. “He has something here that he’s built over years. I can’t ask him to leave all that.” 

“You’re not,” her friend pointed out, tossing her dark hair off her shoulder. She was thinking of getting it cut, it was always in the way when she actually had to fight the demons she saw in her visions. “He wants to go; you don’t get it. Here, he’s a hero, yes, but he doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t’ care about anything except you.” 

Cordelia didn’t add anything about Angel’s supposed Shanshu…if Wesley even translated the prophecy correctly, and if it wasn’t all some Wolfram & Hart scam, and if, if, if. But there was one thing Cordelia Chase learned over the nine months she’d been working with (for) and friends with Angel. When it came to the Slayer before Cordelia, no matter what her name, nothing but she mattered. 

She shrugged as if it were obvious. “It was always about you; you-Buffy, or you-Elizabeth, it didn’t matter. It was always you. And now that you’re leaving? He’ll either go into brood-mode for eternity and we’ll be lucky if we see him at the next apocalypse party, or he’ll find a way to get to you anyway.” 

“Don’t let him,” Elizabeth said, pleading with her friends now. The past weeks were strange and hard on all of them, but she truly considered the Cordelia before her and Tara great friends. They were also her last hope; Spike thought of her as Angel’s girl – he’d told her that after he’d left for those horrible three days when she confessed her love and need of him. As such, Spike also considered her Angel’s and this whole leaving business was just preposterous. 

Silently agreeing with Spike’s assessment of the situation, Elizabeth was still at a loss on how to proceed. If she stayed, there was no doubt that several things would happen. Angel would definitely lose his soul. Buffy would most likely either die in her world if she was indeed with Giles and Cordelia; if she was with Angelus then Elizabeth wondered if she were already turned. If she felt at all the way Elizabeth felt for Angel, then it was only a matter of time. 

The question was, what would happen then? To both their worlds. If Buffy was with Angelus, and the Master Vampire turned her, then she was the mysterious Mate Elizabeth heard so much about…she was, in essence, Angelus’ Mate. And that meant that they were going to rule the world. If they pushed Elizabeth back into her world, stealing Buffy back to this one…then the War that Elizabeth fought on a daily basis was guaranteed. 

Because she wasn’t there a hundred years before, then she had to fight her own problem? Elizabeth felt a headache brewing. 

Was that Fate? Was it supposed to happen like that? If Willow succeeded and brought Buffy back here, then what happened to Angelus, William, Drusilla? Did they just come with her? And then what would happen…here? But if Elizabeth stayed here…with Angel. Then what? What happened in her world? What happened in this one? Would Buffy and Angelus go on to rule the world, as they seemed destined to? What of she and Angel? 

Elizabeth was under no illusions that should she stay with her love that eventually he’d turn her. And she was distressingly all right with that. An eternity with Angel? Elizabeth didn’t care if she retained her soul or not. An eternity with Angel was the only thing she’d ever wanted and now that she had that dangling just within her reach…she had to give it all up. 

No, no one understood her reasoning. Sometimes she didn’t. All Elizabeth wanted was Angel safe and whole; she didn’t want Angel throwing away his life for her. Yes, actually, she did, but that was selfish and she couldn’t afford to be selfish now. 

Not when it was Angel, they were talking about. 

“Elizabeth,” Tara said, but stopped when Willow opened the door. 

“Ready?” She asked, a bright smile on her face. This was the night they got their Buffy back and sent this imposter back to her world. Angelus, pah, whatever Anya said before simply wasn’t true. Buffy wasn’t with Angelus, she was with Elizabeth’s Giles and Cordelia. And now, she was going to be returned to them, where and with whom she belonged. 

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, shooting a look at Cordelia and Tara, making sure they both understood what she meant. “I suppose we are.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

Darla was insanely jealous though those weren’t the words she would have used to describe herself. One because ‘insane’ was often used to describe Drusilla and two, jealously was an entirely too human emotion. And one that she refused to contemplate. 

No, she preferred to think of herself as calculating in her attempts to recapture her Mate and bring her Family back together. The Master wanted this Slayer for himself, but Darla wasn’t going to allow her Sire to fall sway to Buffy’s dubious charms the same as Angelus had. No, she was going to keep her Sire away from Buffy, and she was going to have Angelus all to herself. Away from the whore of a Slayer…a Slayer of all things! What earthy or unearthly force could have possibly thought that was a conceivable idea? The whole thought was nauseating. 

And coming from Darla that was saying quite a bit. 

Therefore, if she had recruited several dozen minions who thought that the promise of sex and power she gave off were actually going to give them something, then that was her business. All the spying she’d had her minions do on the happy couple paid off, and Darla knew of their fight and Buffy’s storming out of the house – the whole block knew of their fight, actually. Using it to her advantage, the vampiress orchestrated her ambush with all her minions, and herself…the Slayer wasn’t getting out alive. 

Darla had carefully composed a fake message for the Slayer from Angelus, using paper stolen from Buffy’s stash in her sitting room. Actually, Darla had thought over the note carefully before coming up simply with, ‘I want to put this fight behind us, we have better things to do than argue.’ Her equally false missive to Angelus, also using paper from his private office – neither theft had been hard at all when one used the human servants to do so. 

This one begged his forgiveness; ‘I beg you to forgive me, Angelus, I was foolish to even think…’ actually, the choppiness of the letter was what Darla considered her masterpiece. ‘Please, please meet me, Angelus,’ The desperate tone of the letter would no doubt appeal to Angelus’ sense of dominance and pride. This letter begged him to meet her in another part of town, far from where Darla planned on killing Buffy. It was all a part of her wonderful plan that would guarantee the Slayer’s demise and her own guilt free escape where she had tried, truly, Angelus, she had tried to rescue the chit but she just wasn’t as strong as you thought. Sire, she was surrounded by rogue vampires, and the Slayer simply gave up… 

Darla, Childe of Nest, the Master of Aurelius, hadn’t counted on several things. 

The first was that Buffy wasn’t a trusting soul even in her own time. Angelus sending her a note to work out their differences and ask for a meeting? To all but say he was wrong? Not the Angelus she knew and loved. This sudden change didn’t make any sense to her and she was more than suspicious. Plus, the minion who delivered the scribbled message – and really, Angelus delivering a letter through a messenger? No, he’d hunt her down himself – was unfamiliar and had looked extremely nervous as he delivered it. 

Though that could have been the fact that he was seeing the Slayer – his Master’s Mate – up close and with a broadsword strapped to her back and a stake twirling carelessly in her hand. 

Then there was the paper itself; it smelled like him, but only faintly. Which was odd, either way, but something she couldn’t discount; if he was the one to truly write the letter, then it’d smell of nothing but he. And the handwriting? Whoever sent the note hadn’t taken into account Buffy’s history with Angelus…future…other life…whatever. Buffy knew what both Angel and Angelus’ handwriting looked like, the flowing script, the so last century writing. 

Just because Angelus hadn’t penned her anything in the current incarnation of their relationship – drew her, yes, many times as she slept, laughed, sparred with William, played with Drusilla, but he’d never written her anything – didn’t mean squat. Buffy knew it wasn’t his writing. 

Besides, now that the Slayer was beginning to learn her way about town, she knew that Angelus would never agree to meet in someplace so…seedy. Honestly, whoever thought that he would either didn’t know him very well…or counted on Buffy’s London-ignorance to see their plan through. She and Angelus lived on St. James Court; that evening Buffy decided to visit the seamy side of London and help those there. 

It was her experience that most vampires and other demons preyed on the poor rather than the rich – Angelus being the obvious exception; that man had serious social climbing issues – so Buffy had made her way to Whitehall. Wasn’t that where Jack the Ripper was from, anyway? Something about killing prostitutes and such. So Whitehall it was; the perfect breeding ground of demons for her to kill. 

So she had gone in with her large broadsword strapped to her back, several stakes hidden in her skirts, and her usual cocky attitude. Actually, she’d planned on taking her anger and jealous frustration out on the demon populace of the area, and that was why she was so well-equipped, but hey, this was just as good. 

Lucky for her, she followed the Marine motto and was always prepared. Or maybe that was always ready…always faithful? Then whose motto was always prepared? The Army? They had uniforms, Buffy remembered that, whoever had that motto had uniforms. 

And yet more unlucky for Darla was the fact that her incredibly ill-thought-out plan involved a scholar named Dalton. Angelus had hired Dalton to look into returning Buffy to her own time, and while the scholar had failed, frankly Angelus hadn’t cared. He wasn’t about to return Buffy anyway, so it didn’t matter if Dalton found nothing. If he had, Dalton was under the impression that he’d have been tortured and killed. 

During the course of his research, Dalton had met Buffy and had liked her for three reasons: She hadn’t staked him upon contact, as many other Slayers were wont to do. She asked intelligent questions about his work without mocking him – she said something about how he was very Giles-ish with his glasses and lectures and reminded her of someone she knew. He didn't know what that meant, but then she’d smiled at him and he was lost, so it hadn’t matter. And she was from the future; that in itself was simply fascinating and he couldn’t imagine a better person to talk with during the days. 

She hadn’t told him a lot, but he understood that, too. By being here she was already changing history, or, well, the future. By telling him of that future, then there was the possibility that everything would change, drastically, and then where would everyone be? Better off, or not? It was a philosophical debate they’d spent long hours discussing. 

By the end of his tenure at Angelus’ he was already half in love with Buffy. 

So, just as the ambush was about to begin, not even waiting to see that the Slayer had arrived, Dalton slipped quietly away and went to find Angelus. He’d only done as Darla bade because she was his GrandSire, anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

Spike looked at Angel with a frown. 

He could smell Dru around his GrandSire, like a tricky aura that teased and taunted, and knew the two had had a little talk. Neither was telling him what that talk was about, however. Actually, neither even told him that they’d met. It was damned disconcerting. What were they planning? Spike so hated to be out of the loop like this.  

They were nearly to Giles’ place now, Angel’s anger over Elizabeth still doing the spell despite their mutual feelings for each other, thick in the evening air. It was as if Angel was wearing his emotions openly, though Spike had never known him to do so…in any incarnation, Angel or Angelus. What Spike didn’t understand was why Elizabeth was still doing the spell when it was obvious to everyone – and he now meant everyone after Anya’s little speech – that she was as in love with the Poof as he was with her. 

“Why,” Spike couldn’t resist asking as they quickly approached the condo. “Is she leaving?” 

His answer was a growl. Rolling his eyes, Spike tried again. This was just getting overly ridiculous; he was all for drama, but this was beyond even his bounds. Though it was damned exciting. “Look, Angel, I know you met with Dru and I know she probably told you something, what I don’t know, but something. Now, was it why Elizabeth was leaving?” 

“She’s not,” Angel said flatly. 

Spike blinked and stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn’t? Then what the hell were they doing, racing to the Watcher’s house to stop the spell that she was doing? Shaking his head, Spike ran to where Angel still walked, quickly catching up with the stalking vampire. Now Spike was just more confused. 

“If she’s not,” he ventured, “Then why are they doing the spell?” 

“I don’t care what the witch thinks she’s doing,” Angel said flatly. 

Spike smirked at the very Angelus-y tone in his voice. He resisted rubbing his hands together; it was only a matter of time before either Angelus made a return appearance, or Angel gave up that pesky ‘hero’ thing and reverted to form, soul or no. The only reason he gave a damn in the first place about doing the right thing was because of Buffy. And now Elizabeth. Without either of them in his life, then the soul had no reason to save anyone. including himself. 

“Elizabeth is not leaving here,” Angel insisted. “I won’t let her.” 

“Well then,” his GrandChilde said with glee in his voice. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” 

They entered the condo, eyes quickly scanning the room to see everyone setting up the last minute preparations. Elizabeth stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a sacred salt circle, Cordelia and Anya sat at Giles’ breakfast bar with their arms folded and scowls on their faces. Obviously, those who Dared-to-Date Xander were in accord over this and not happy; Xander for his part, was helping Giles push the few remaining pieces of furniture out of the way. 

Wesley stayed out of the way, his magick not nearly as powerful as others in the room. Giles looked uneasy, as Willow set her things up, Tara casting quick sympathetic glances at Elizabeth. 

Well, well, the gang was all there. 

Good, then they could all witness it and no one would have to explain anything later. 

Angel strode to where Elizabeth stood, waiting. When he looked at her, there were tears swimming in her eyes, quickly blinked away to be replaced by a hard look. It was one he recognized well; the Slayer was there and in charge. Angel didn’t care. 

“What do you think you’re doing, lover?” He asked, his voice pitched low. No matter that they couldn’t exactly hear, everyone stopped dead in their tracks and watched. 

“Going back,” Elizabeth said as if it was the most obvious thing – and it really was, they were all standing in Giles’ living room with the spell preparations scattered around them. “You can’t stop me, Angel,” she whispered. Her voice brooked no argument, convinced, hard, virtuous; her eyes spoke a different story. 

“Watch me,” he said and reached in to pull her out of the circle. 

“Angel,” her voice cracked on his name and he stopped. This was the woman he knew; the one who was strong and powerful, the one who was weak only around him and the one who only let him see that weakness. She needed him in a way that neither could deny and yet she was doing just that. He wasn’t about to let her continue on with such…nonsense. Elizabeth was his and he wasn’t letting her get away.

“I love you,” she told him, ignoring the curious looks they received. Why couldn’t everyone just let them alone? It wasn’t their business, yet they stayed as if it was. 

“I love you more than I ever imagined I could,” she reached out to trace the lines of his face, but stopped short of touching him. “But I have to go back. And you have to stay here. It’s what was supposed to be, this whole mix-up…shouldn’t have happened.” 

Cordelia was there next to Angel, her hand on his arm. She wasn’t happy about it, but she’d promised Elizabeth that she wouldn’t let Angel follow her or stop her. In the weeks that Elizabeth was here, Cordelia learned the true meaning of friendship; and it was that even if you didn’t agree, you supported. “Angel, let her do this.” 

The tall vampire looked to his friend, seeing the concern there for both he and Elizabeth. His eyes focused back on the woman in the circle. He loved her. He needed her. He was going to make sure she stayed here, if he had to destroy the spell, those gathered here, and the world itself. 

Leaning close in again, his eyes were tinged gold, a hint of fang showing. “Watch me,” he repeated with a sensual smile that sent thrills through her body. His lips briefly touched the side of her smooth neck, “Watch me, baby.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

Buffy stopped at the entrance to the park. Frankly, it was a pretty pathetic park; whatever it was, it was small, ill kempt, and not very park like. Buffy wished she knew more about 19^th century London parks, but there was no hope for that now. The park was eerily quiet and still; birds didn’t sing, night animals didn’t move, no human dared break the silence that permeated the place. Everything was off. And she knew exactly why. 

Her vampire sense was screaming wildly, warning her that whatever lay on the other side of the bushes to her right, were after her…and there were a lot of them. She unsheathed her sword and took cautious steps into the darkness that awaited her. 

Darla stepped out before her, cocky and arrogant, and ever so eager to see her competition die as slowly and as painfully as could be managed.

“Well, little girl, you came. I must say,” she sneered, watching as Buffy didn’t so much as flinch. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think you would.” 

Buffy smirked at the blonde before her, already anticipating the fight to come. Cocking her head to the side, “Why would you think wouldn’t show? Because your plan was lame? Because it was obvious that Angelus hadn’t sent that note? Please, you are so not the brains behind this operation. No wonder it was so easy to kill you.” 

She advanced a step towards the vampiress, more than ready for a fight. Oh, Buffy knew Darla wasn’t alone, but the sense she was getting from around her said ‘minions’ nothing more than that. “You didn’t think I had forgotten about you did you?  See I don’t know what you’ve faced in your pathetic existence, if anything, but I guarantee this: you’ve never encountered anything like me. Personally, I don’t think you know how to fight your own battles; never have in the past.” 

“Little girl, little girl,” Darla sighed as if it pained her to see Buffy so delusional. “You are the one who is in trouble here. Did you honestly think that I’d come alone?” 

Vampires, about twenty of them, stepped out of the bushes and surrounded Buffy in a semi-circle. “Of course not, why do the work yourself when you can get others to do it for you?” 

Turning to the vampires too stupid, too greedy, or too something else to have listened to her, Buffy said, “Do any of you know who I am? I’m Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, and I’ll be your executioner today. I’m also the bound Mate of Angelus and the final person you are going to see in your pathetic lives.” 

Darla’s face hadn’t lost any of its sureness, but Buffy could tell that her hired help was nervous. Angelus’ name was formidable: no one went against him and lived. And even here her name carried weight; granted, not as much as in Sunnydale – she really missed those vamps, they rarely gave her trouble any more. 

“You have no idea with whom you are dealing, grandma.” She said, using her nickname for the woman who made her lover. “I’m not just A slayer, I’m THE Slayer. I’m the Slayer who has killed Masters and has averted more apocalypses than I can count.” Though at last count it was around six…did Adam even count? He was such a pathetic badguy. 

“I have the power of the First Slayer running through me,” she told the listening vamps, “All her knowledge and all her strength; everything that is the Primal that is the Slayer. I have abilities you cannot possibly imagine. And you cannot possibly hope to win against me.” 

She twirled her sword in her hand and assumed a fighting stance. “You’re welcomed to try, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

The first three vamps that attacked were beheaded in one swift and graceful movement. Not pausing, Buffy continued her spin and dropped into a crouch, snaking her leg out to topple another two. Seven of them were ashes on the foggy ground before they realized that she hadn’t been kidding. 

She moved like the wind, flipping and spinning and kicking without ever losing sight of her main foe. Magick flowed off her is waves, not just the magick of the Slayer, but a different kind of magick, the kind that did indeed go back to the Primal, to the Source. In her anger of her relationship with Angelus, in her need to take that anger out, the minions never stood a chance. 

Buffy wailed on them with all her might, taking out her fear and anger on the best therapy she never had to pay for. Why couldn’t she and Angelus work? They were together, there and there were still people trying to tear them apart. Why couldn’t anyone see that this was what she wanted, this was what he wanted. Finally, finally they could have it all with no interference from friends or Watchers, from rogue slayers or from moms. 

And they yet here she was, fighting once more for her right to be with the one she loved. But she would fight, Buffy knew as she beat the minion before her into an unrecognizable mass. She’d fight because she wanted Angelus and she was never letting him go again. 

Why, though, why couldn’t she forget, even here, that she was the Slayer? Why couldn’t she live for the moment? Another vamp wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to break her in half; Buffy snapped her head back and heard the satisfying crunch of a nose breaking behind her. She was going to have a headache tomorrow, but for now it was worth it; the vamp’s arms loosened just enough for Buffy to get the leverage she needed to jab an elbow behind her and break free. 

Ah, a new one. Turning her anger onto the vamp before her, Buffy let her fists fly in a flurry of anger and momentum and didn’t stop until a new vampire attacked. Apparently, they didn’t want to risk the mass beheading of earlier, so weren’t attacking as a group. Just as well, this was much more satisfying, the physical hitting on your enemies. 

Buffy didn’t know if she was going to be able to make it home and she didn’t care; she didn’t want to go back, not when she had what she wanted. Yet there she was, still letting what others think influence her. As she systematically plowed through Darla’s minions, Buffy realized that the one she hated the most, wasn’t even joining the game. Well, had to change that, didn’t they. 

With a wicked grin, Buffy turned her bloodied hands to her lover’s Sire. 

Darla was the one to ruin Angel’s life, the one to change everything he’d ever known into something he couldn’t possibly understand; how could someone who hunted and killed for centuries understand guilt, a conscience, a soul? Darla was the one to turn him, and Buffy hated that more than she could verbally admit; it was a seething roiling mass within her that Darla turned Buffy’s love and had him for over a hundred years, while Buffy only had him for one night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

Angel looked around the room for a brief moment before training his eyes back on Elizabeth. 

She wasn’t looking at him, but everyone else was. Smirking, he settled directly in front of her. His powerful arms were crossed against his chest, his golden-brown eyes boring into her, insisting that she look at him. She didn’t and the demon wondered at that; Buffy would have…  

But then, she drew herself upright, standing tall under the weight of the stares in the room, under the weight of her decision and the demon crowed in delight, the soul smirking in appreciation. 

Green eyes looked at Cordelia, at Anya, and at Tara before settling onto his. Her face was blank, no expression showed those around her what she was thinking or feeling. Her eyes were a fathomless green pool that only he could decipher. 

Love, need, yearning, and desire were clear for him to see. Regret was there, too, along with a selfish need to screw it all and leap into his arms.  

Angel planned on seeing that she did just that. 

Spike stood on the other side of the circle, guarding Elizabeth’s back as his GrandSire waited for whatever it was he was going to do. Because to Spike, it looked like the Slayer was going to go through with the spell. But then again, he never really did understand the whole relationship dynamic; but Spike was all about taking what he wanted, not dancing around the hard parts. 

So they all waited while Willow and Tara took their positions next to Buffy. Everyone watched the Slayer as she watched her love. And only Angel knew that the spell would fail. It’d fail because he wasn’t losing her. It’d fail because he knew she loved him. 

It’d fail because if it succeeded, Angel was going to burn this world around the people gathered in this room and follow Elizabeth into her world anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

Angelus laughed when the minion delivered the note. 

The day his Buffy begged for his forgiveness was the day that the world ended; it wasn’t in her nature any more than it was in her nature to send a note to do so. So who the hell had this message delivered? Breathing deeply of the paper, Angelus caught the scent of Buffy, but that was to be expected. His own scent was there, but only faint traces. The human servants, and the minions…and so faint he almost overlooked it, Darla’s. 

Buffy could take care of herself but that wasn’t the point. She was his mate, his lover, his to take care of and protect; Slayer or not, Angelus wasn’t about to let her face this new threat alone. She’d raced out of their home, angry and upset and he could only imagine how she was going to handle Darla’s ploy.. He didn’t know where she was now, but didn’t like the implications this note suggested.  

“Drusilla, William,” he called as he shrugged on his coat. His Childer entered the room, watching as Angelus moved quickly past them into the weapon’s room, gathering his favorite sword and moving past them again. “Darla set a trap for Buffy,” he said as he strode down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. 

“The Princess doesn’t understand,” Drusilla said with a sad sigh, “She doesn’t understand the Queen. But, ooh,” Drusilla cried suddenly, leaning heavily against William. “No, the witch wants her back, the dark light comes to surround her!” 

Angelus wasn’t entirely certain what that meant, and didn’t have time to properly quick his Chide over the meaning of her vision. Drusilla’s words, however, struck a note of fear into his heart and he increased his pace. At the corner of their street, Angelus stood still, breathing deeply of the night air. Rubbish, human, coal, horses. The faint scent of a brewing storm – Angelus looked skyward, wondering if the storm was because of the weather or because of the spell Drusilla seemed sure was going to take Buffy away from him. 

There. 

Buffy’s scent was faint, but led to the left. Following the tug of his Mate, her scent, her presence, the pulling in his blood that told him he was growing nearer, Angelus tracked her. He was determined to have his way; she wasn’t leaving, she wasn’t going to leave him or this world, and Darla wasn’t going to get her way if he had to stake his Sire himself. 

He wasn’t losing Buffy; she loved him, wanted, needed, and desired him…as he did her. 

And if he failed, Angelus was going to burn this world around the people who dared take his love away from him and follow Buffy to wherever she went, this world or the next…or even to her world. 

He arrived just in time to see her take on the minions Darla commanded, his Sire standing off to the side, watching. She always did like to watch. 

Seeing Buffy severely outnumbered, Angelus moved to save her, but William stopped him. Glaring at his GrandChilde, Angelus went to ask what the younger meant by that when he really saw what and who Buffy truly was. Hesitating, Angelus watched. 

She was magnificent, her fists a flash before her, the only way any of them even knew she moved was the increasingly bloodied look on the vampiress’ face. Her body swayed to a rhythm only she could hear, the pounding of her blood calling out to Angelus as she continued to thump the minions who didn’t really understand what a Slayer was. Those who still lived tried to crawl away, those who couldn’t move, moaned for their final release. 

Angelus could tell she was scared, but not for her life; for something else…his? Smirking, he waited for her to finish. He wanted to take her on the ashes of those who dared to touch her, tasting the thrill of victory from her lips, the adrenaline laced passion of her blood, the knowledge that she’d just killed two-dozen vampires, and still wanted more. 

Wanted him.

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