Track B in Track A 

The group before her was silent. 

What could they possibly say to a story like that? Sure, they had it bad, Hellmouth, Adam, Initiative, broken relationships, Spike and Dru, Angelus, end of the world every other week…but they had each other. They were alive, they loved and partied. They had friends and family and they always won. Their world was not in shambles, not destroyed, not warring against each other when they should be banding together to fight the Darkness. 

But this…to know that you are the only line against the evil, that because vampires you never even knew, disappeared a hundred years before you realized you were that line, that it was all the cause of something like this. A War that hadn’t seen an end in almost 115 years, battles not with friends, but with allies scraped together from demon factions that wanted things to go back to the way they were, not necessarily the way it ought to be. 

Humans as allies until such a time as they were prey once more. 

Spike looked over at the Slayer as she rested her hand over her womb and stared off into space. This was his mortal enemy, and on a much more personal level, his greatest enemy. He hated her, hated that she always won, that her and her damn Scoobies came out of whatever situation they found themselves in brighter, closer than they were before. And they always managed to get out of those situations. 

It really grated on his dead nerve endings. 

But this Elizabeth, this Slayer before him. She was nothing like the one he knew. 

What had that world done to her? There were no quips, no sarcasm, no cocky comebacks that were so much a part of who Buffy was. Elizabeth was different in more ways than that. Buffy was bright, sunny, the true light in the darkness she fought. Most of the time; hell, even Spike saw the difference in her once Angel had left. 

Upon pain of having his fangs pulled, he’d never admit that aloud, but he could see it. 

Elizabeth hadn’t had that, she was…muted, her life had been spent in darkness and she had only two friends to pull her back into the light; but those friends had been sucked in with her as well. She had fought a war that had not happened in this world and that would never happen. She never had Angel’s love, his support and friendship. And while she never had to send her lover to hell, never had to give up her life’s blood for that lover, Elizabeth was…harder all the same. 

Spike found, much to his surprised chagrin, that he felt…badly for her. 

Angel’s eyes flashed golden, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest. If he could get his hands on Walsh, if the bitch professor wasn’t already dead, then she’d wish she had been. He knew, he just knew, what had been done to Elizabeth. The look in her eyes, the placement of her hand…the experiments they had preformed on her weren’t just about strength and endurance, nor even about her powers and where they came from. 

No, they wanted to recreate her. 

And whatever they did to her, whatever experiments they preformed on Elizabeth, it scarred her more than even she knew. If there wasn’t a child of hers in that other world, it wasn’t from lack of trying on the Initiative’s part. And because of that she could no longer bear children. Had they taken her ovaries out of her to do so? Some kind of test-tube baby he had heard about on the news? It didn’t matter, he supposed, in the end it was all the same. 

A pang of longing and jealously shot through Angel. He’d always wanted Buffy to bear his children, to see her smile on their faces, to watch their golden hair glint in the sunlight. Remembering that one perfect day when they were both human, Angel wondered…if he had stayed human, God, if he had stayed human… 

The thing he wanted most for her, the one thing that no matter what gems or magicks happened to him the one thing he could only hope give her, his Buffy…was gone from this woman forever. 

She could never bear children…she could never beard his children. 

The fact that it wasn’t his Buffy didn’t matter to Angel as he resisted the urge to go to her, take her in his arms and hold her as they both cried for what would never be. 

Giles looked like he was about to be seriously ill. He, too, knew what had happened to the girl that was and was not his charge. The silence stretched out between them. He had no idea what to say, no idea what to do. Clearing his throat, he tried to return to the matter at hand. Anything else would undoubtedly bring more attention to Elizabeth than she wanted or needed.

He set his glasses on the table before him only to pick them back up again. If Walsh wasn’t already dead, Rupert Giles thought, his emotions in turmoil over what she’d done to a Buffy that wasn’t technically even his charge. If he ever found a way to get his hands on Walsh, dead or not, she’d wish she was dead. Again. 

Only the knowledge that the Riley standing against the far wall was not the same one who had helped perform such experiments on Elizabeth. Buffy. Elizabeth. His Slayer. Only that knowledge kept the boy alive as far as Giles was concerned. The watcher wasn’t so sure it’d be enough as far as Angel was concerned. 

“You say,” Giles finally said and had to clear his throat. The lump there wasn’t moving but he pushed on. “You said that Angelus, Spike, er, William, Drusilla and this mystery Mate all disappeared over a hundred years ago.” At her affirmative nod, he continued, “Tell me what you can remember about the Mate. Rumors, readings, anything.” 

It was a long shot, but the only one they had. If it was possible to figure out who she was, other than satisfying his curiosity, maybe Giles could figure out more about her world’s history and subsequently how to get Elizabeth back there and Buffy home. For he was more convinced than ever that they had indeed switched worlds. His Buffy was there, and that Elizabeth was here. 

Though how was anyone’s guess.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

Buffy stretched slowly, languorously, as her body sighed in utter contentment. She hadn’t felt that way in so long she had nearly forgotten the feel of it. Peace stole through her as she felt the heavy muscular arm tighten across her waist, pulling her closer though she made no move to leave the familiar embrace. 

Still mostly asleep, Buffy refused to acknowledge the pestering voice clamoring for attention in the back of her mind. It meant nothing, those words the annoying voice insisted on screaming. She was where she wished to be, had always wished to be, and nothing anyone said or did was going to change that. 

In fact, if she just rolled over…yes, just like that. Hard thighs rubbed against the softer inner muscles of her own thighs and Buffy hooked her leg over his hip. A smooth cool chest became a most welcomed pillow to her head and Buffy kissed the patch of skin immediately beneath her lips, smiling at the purr that rumbled through him. A broad back the perfect playground for her hands, and she let them roam the wide expanse, tracing the outline of his tattoo from memory. 

Of their own accord, Buffy’s lips again kissed his chest, once, twice, only enough to reassure her that she was indeed in her lover’s arms and that he had no intention – if the tightening of his grip was any indication – of ever letting her go. 

Sighing once more, Buffy fell back into a deep sleep, the best she’d had in over a year. 

Several hours later, she awoke to those same cool hands roaming her body. Tweaking nipples already hardened, tracing ribs and parting thighs. A cool, talented tongue licked a path around her heated core before plunging in and Buffy screamed in need, already ready for him, already aroused, needy, panting for release. 

Her hands tangled themselves in his hair, longer than she remembered but that wasn’t important. Pulling him closer, she ground herself against him, hooking her legs tighter around his shoulders as that wonderfully talented tongue explored her. Silently urging him faster, harder, please, harder, yes, there! 

With an inarticulate cry, Buffy fell off the edge, bowing off the bed and riding wave after wave of exquisite pleasure. Her fingers dug into his scalp, her thighs convulsing around his head. His name sounded from her lips, a soft whisper as she floated back to reality. Regaining a measure of consciousness, Buffy felt the bed beneath her, her lover still waiting patiently above her. 

With a languid smile, Buffy opened her eyes and looked into the soft brown ones of her lover’s. And suddenly remembered what had happened and that – technically – this wasn’t her Angel. Oh, she thought and panicked for a moment. But wait…if he didn’t have a soul to begin with, then he couldn’t lose it. And he hadn’t drained her; no Buffy felt no different and was sure she would’ve remembered that. So what did that make him now? 

Now it did make him her lover. 

“Oh…” Not knowing what else to say, too many things piled around her for her to make sense of any one of them, Buffy looked into his eyes, noting the feral lust there, the need.

She could do nothing else. It wasn’t coercion, wasn’t forced, understanding perfectly what she wanted to do, knowing that he was waiting for her to initiate it, Buffy wrapped her legs around Angelus’ waist and guided him into her still pulsing heat. The sigh that escaped her lips went unnoticed by her but caused a satisfied and smug grin to cross Angelus’ mouth. 

In long measured strokes the vampire pumped in and out of her, watching the emotions flit across her face as she again climbed to her peak. Leaning on one hand, Angelus used the other to manipulate her body, a wonderfully responsive body that he found himself more and more fascinated with the longer her spent with her. It’d been one evening only, and already he found himself unwilling to let her out of his sight. 

One, two brushes against her swollen bud and Buffy again flew over the edge, rhythmically squeezing her inner muscles around Angelus’ cock, digging nails into his ass, her mouth found his neck and blunt teeth bit into the dead artery there. With a roar, he thrust harder into her, teeth elongating and sinking into the mark that already branded the side of her neck. 

Making it his own once again. 

She screamed again as another orgasm ripped through her at the feel. It never occurred to her to stop him, but Angelus didn’t take a lot of blood. Just enough to feel her power pumping through him, just enough to remark her, just enough to make her come once more. 

Pulling away from her too tempting neck, Angelus rolled them over, cradling Buffy’s warm body as she struggled to calm her breathing, slow her racing heart. Why he felt the need to hold her after sex, he didn’t know, nor did he attempt to analyze it. He was a creature that followed his desires wherever they led and this instance was no different. 

Eventually Buffy lifted her head, staring for long silent minutes into Angelus’ eyes. “Okay,” she agreed. “So Darla lives for another day. She’s a manipulative bitch who is already dead once in my world. And why can’t I kill her in this one?” 

Why indeed? Because it just wasn’t done, really. Angelus may have tired of her for the time being, but she was his Sire, and he did owe her a certain…allegiance if not affection. Affection was there, however, enough to have them always return to the other. Would it be enough now? Suddenly Angelus wasn’t sure of that. 

“She’s my Sire; I can’t just allow you to kill her.” Though as of late she had been annoying him more than usual. Maybe another separation was in order. Just for a few years. He hadn’t been to the continent in years; maybe it was time to visit it again. He was already planning that, already making arrangements when this happened. When Buffy literally dropped into his life. 

Brushing a strand of hair off her cheek, Angelus wondered why this woman, his woman, hated Darla so much. Was it simply because of him? Darla was a jealous woman, true, but had no problem with either taking new lovers, or allowing Angelus his. It was when he tossed her over for another that she became jealous and vindictive. 

As she had with Buffy. In one day this beautiful woman disrupted his life, his Family’s. Darla was not a stupid woman; she had to have senses something, something between he and Buffy. Which made his Sire a dangerous woman.

“Tell me how she died in your world.” He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details of his future even if it was becoming apparent that this world and hers were completely different. 

For long minutes, Buffy remained silent. Finally, her hand moved up his chest to caress his face. This wasn’t her love, not her Angel. The soul was obviously missing; she couldn’t see his heart shining behind those eyes. Still, there was some of him there despite the cruelness visible on his face. It softened when he looked at her…and Buffy had to steel her heart against what she hoped that meant. 

Only two days passed here, it was such a short amount of time, and yet she felt as if she already knew this Angelus. 

Oh, not only Angel’s past, pre-soul, but this one, the one currently holding her tightly to him, the one who looked at her with desire. The one who didn’t taunt her about her love, about her sexual performance. Who didn’t taunt her love of Angel, her love of Angelus. 

This Angelus was a blend of the Angelus she knew and her Angel. She was so confused, but Buffy didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to ruin the only time she’d probably have with her lover, no matter the state of his soul. 

Or, it seemed, the state of her mind. What was she thinking, sleeping with Angelus? But she couldn’t help herself and honestly, she hadn’t wanted to. If this was all she got from Angel/Angelus, then so be it. 

“I can’t,” she said eventually. “I can’t tell you.” 

He raised an eyebrow, clearly indicating that wasn’t an acceptable answer. “If I did,” she shrugged, “I’d have to tell you more about your future than you want to know. It’s a long story and one that is too interconnected to leave parts out.” 

Her heart beating was the only sound in the room as Angelus looked at her. She was telling the truth, but the secrets she hid were tempting, compelling, goading him to discover them.  Eventually he nodded, tucking her head under his chin. “Go back to sleep, Buffy. We’ll talk more when you wake.” 

With one hand, he tugged the duvet over them and relaxed back into slumber.
~~~~~~~~~~
The sun crept above the horizon, lightening the foggy London streets below, waking her inhabitants for another day. 

The inhabitants of this house didn’t so much as stir, heavy drapes blocking the harmful rays of the sun and letting them sleep a while longer. Buffy sighed and cuddled closer to the solid mass behind her, still pleasantly wrapped in her own dream world. The heavy arm across her stomach, the thigh slipped through her own softer legs, the contented purr that was a constant sound in her ear, soothing her even as she slept. 

Slowly, Buffy allowed wakefulness to overtake her, knowing, in some part of her mind, that there was no need to rush, that things were not awaiting her, that if she so desired, she could turn over and go back to sleep. But she opened he eyes, maybe it was the fact that she had slept better than she had in the past year, but she opened them to greet the new day with the closest thing to joy she had felt in a long, long time. 

Letting her own contented purr escape her slightly parted lips, Buffy turned over and looked into the sleeping face of her lover. It seemed that no matter where she was or, indeed, which version of the vampire that meant so very much to her she was with, that nothing compared to waking in his arms. 

They were the same muscular arms, strong as steel and securely wrapped around her. The chest was the same, broad and pale as fine cut marble. Thick eyelashes fanned his pale cheeks, and Buffy knew that when he opened his eyes, the deep brown would draw her in and trap her, a willing captive. 

This time when she woke there was no disorientation; Buffy knew exactly where she was, exactly with whom she laid in the large four-poster bed. Raising a hand to trace the planes of his face she wondered briefly if she had finally lost her mind. A sane Buffy wouldn’t have made love to Angelus. A sane Buffy wouldn’t have done so more than once; and enjoyed every damn second of it. A sane Buffy wouldn’t have fallen asleep in his arms. 

Buffy shrugged and leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cooler ones. 

Snapping awake at the contact, Angelus looked into her eyes, bright green with sleep and passion. Watching her as he deepened the kiss, he wondered for a moment at the sudden change in her attitude. She had fought him most of last night, physically and verbally. Denying what Drusilla had foreseen and outright telling him that there was nothing between them – though there had obviously been at some point as he had marked her. But that was a discussion for another time. 

Right now, all he wanted to do was have her again, her delicious heat, her passion and yes, even her love despite the fact that it may or may not have been for him. He wanted to know of her past, wanted to know of their past; of how they had met, fallen in love. He was confidant in his ability to discover the rest of her story soon enough. Just as he was confident in his ability to secure her love for him. 

As the kiss came to its natural end, Buffy pressed against him, pushing him flat against the bed. Straddling his hips, she began to work her way slowly down his body, hot opened mouth kisses over his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipples, tracing ribs and muscle down to his penis. There she hesitated for a brief moment. 

Riley and she had been intimate for close to six months now and had on more than one occasion engaged in oral sex. He was well endowed, there was no mistaking that; but Angelus…was more so. Thicker, longer, Buffy wondered how he had ever fit in her that first time let alone twice last night. And uncircumcised, too; so very different than Riley and hell, even Parker (mistake though he was, let’s not think on that). 

Running her tongue up one side and down the other, scraping teeth lightly across the underside, Buffy explored what she had only briefly seen so long ago. Hands fondled his balls, slithered over thigh and stomach and hip. He was large, but Buffy was determined to taste him; she didn’t care that he wasn’t her Angel, he was in a way and that was all that mattered. She didn’t care that she was technically cheating on her boyfriend, Riley was who knew where and when and Buffy had serious doubts as to her ability of ever finding her way back home. 

There were always possibilities, true, but who had ever heard of traveling to both another time and another universe? 

Well, maybe in Star Trek, but as far as she knew – and at this point she wasn’t so sure about that – Star Trek was really just a science fictional show that had a giant fan following. Then again, after her experiences over the past couple of days, Buffy wouldn’t have been surprised to discover the Star Trek universe was truly just another alternate universe she hadn’t been trapped in. 

Taking him as far into her mouth as she could, Buffy relaxed her muscles and tried for further. A drop of pre-cum coated the tip and she licked it off, tasting his salty flavor for the first time. Letting his cock slip slowly out of her mouth, Buffy continued her exploration of his body despite his protests to the contrary. Just as his hands gripped her hips, demanding, Buffy looked into his saffron eyes and smiled. 

Full of passion and desire and still a bit of innocence, Buffy allowed herself to be pulled to him. His face had long since transformed into his vampire visage but Buffy didn’t care; she had loved Angel’s ridges as much as she had his human features for as long as she had loved him. Slamming her onto his painfully erect cock, Angelus reared forward and sucked first one then the other nipple into his mouth, scraping fangs over the taunt peak but not drawing blood…not yet. 

Faster and harder, they met; flesh slapping flesh as lust overwhelmed them and need flowed through them. Angel had only drunk from her that once and then only to save his life after she had all but forced him to do so. It was an erotic experience, intimate and giving at the same time; Buffy wouldn’t change any of it for the world, knowing that Angel would always carry a bit of her with him wherever he went. 

But it was only that once, only when his life was in danger. So where the instinct, the want for Angelus to drink from her just as her orgasm crashed and thundered through her Buffy couldn’t have said. 

Just as she felt herself about to explode, she urged him to her neck, to the scar that branded her his in any time or place, and clamped her blunt teeth over his own long dead artery.
~~~~~~~~~~
Minutes had passed, or maybe it was hours? It didn’t matter; all Buffy knew was contentment and peace in the arms of her lover. 

Still, as she opened her eyes once again, she noticed the sun filtering through the close buildings and slightly opened curtains. Climbing out of bed, though Angelus tried to stop her again, Buffy ignored the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed and went to the tall windows, grabbing the thicker velvet curtains there. 

Before closing them, blocking both the rest of the world and the sun out of their room, Buffy looked onto the street below. Her life had irrevocably changed in the last twenty-four hours. More so than she had thought upon first awakening and learning her fate; where she was, with who she was. She had knowingly and willingly slept with the demonic version of the man she loved. 

Nothing could change that and Buffy was forced to admit that she wouldn’t want to. 

Where had her sense of self gone, her pride and determination? Here she was, all but giving up on finding a way home, to her time and place, just to spend whatever time she had with a version of the man she loved? What had changed her in the last day?

Maybe it wasn’t that; maybe all she wanted was what was currently and impatiently, awaiting her return to their bed. 

What did she have waiting for her back in the Sunnydale of her time? A lover she didn't love, friends she did love, but who had never really understood who she was despite their help over the years. They had never understood her relationship with Angel, even before his transformation into Angelus. 

Her mother? Joyce didn’t understand that slaying wasn’t something Buffy had chosen, it was something that had chosen her. There were reasons that no one understood but that didn’t change fate. 

Giles…yes, there was her watcher. He had always stood by her, always helped her back to her feet when she was down, bowed, nearly broken. He never liked her relationship with Angel, but he always supported her decisions; all of her decisions, Buffy thought as her fingers touched the newly reopened wound on her neck.  Riley…well, Giles never said a word about that relationship, probably because he knew as well as she did that poor Riley was merely a substitute, someone to take the bitter edge of loneliness off. 

Angel, there was always Angel. But he had his own life now, his own friends and mission. He didn’t need her any longer. That wasn’t fair, maybe he did, but he was doing a wonderful job of showing how well he was getting on without her. But, on the other hand, she had all but rubbed Riley in his face and that was all one big lie. Maybe they were just lying to themselves and as a consequence, each other. 

Did she want to stay here because she could have Angel? Completely, absolutely, and without the threat of the curse and the involvement of all their friends?

Curse…she had just spent the night in the arms of that same demon and had survived to tell about it. Granted, this Angelus hadn’t spent a hundred years buried beneath a guilt-ridden soul, and he obviously felt something for her. Even if it was only lust; Buffy knew it was more. 

If he did, then what she went through two years ago, could that have been the insane version of this? Could the Angelus of then have wanted her as much as this Angelus and as much as her Angel? Yes, and she understood that now. He was angry, everyone knew that, because Buffy had made him feel true love; he had wanted revenge for that, but until the day he had opened Acathla, hadn’t really attempted to do her real harm. 

Was that her sole reasoning? That because she could have Angel, in any way she could get him then she was willing to throw away everything she was, everything and everyone she knew? What about her Angel? 

All she wondered, as she finally closed the curtains and climbed back into her lover’s waiting arms, meeting his eager lips and wandering hands, was whether or not she could live with those decisions…and what other decisions she would be forced to make in the coming days.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A

Angel was having a hard time controlling himself. 

For one, his demon raged over the treatment of his Mate; the tests, the callousness of the whole thing. Even at his worst Angelus had never experimented on things; tortured, drank from, toyed with, killed, certainly, but he had never used another for research. It was beyond barbaric and something that appalled even the demon.

Or maybe it was who the experiments had been preformed on …Angel couldn’t say.

But he knew that he wanted to protect Elizabeth as much as he ever had Buffy, possibly more. Was it because he couldn’t protect his beloved, she was missing and Elizabeth was here? Or was it because no matter what Buffy had been though, she had friends and family…and him to watch over her; had known love and acceptance from more than just a select few, hadn’t been turned into a living test, hadn’t had horrendous things done
to her in the name of ‘science.’

Elizabeth may never have had the emotional horrors Angelus had put Buffy through – which made his Buffy stronger – through but she had a War to fight on a much larger front than Buffy, she had two people she trusted that made up her entire network of support; and had her chance at a family forcibly taken away from her.

As he lingered in Giles’ living room watching her sleep fitfully on the couch, Angel thought that it may be all of those things and more. Something that he couldn’t define.

The rest of the gang had just left, finding whatever solace they could in their own beds with their own lovers. Cordelia and Wesley had gone to the only hotel in Sunnydale that didn’t rent by the hour and Riley had – albeit reluctantly – gone back to his own residence. Where that was Angel had no idea; as far as he had been able to determine, the Initiative compound had been destroyed and the frat house where Riley lived was directly atop of it. 

Giles had kicked them all out, saying he wanted to sleep himself. Of course, Giles was currently sitting at his kitchen island staring blindly into his half-empty glass of scotch before him. The vampire could only guess as to what the watcher was thinking, but he had a fairly good idea that it closely paralleled his own thoughts. Resisting asking Giles for a glass of the fine malt alcohol, Angel crept closer to the restless Slayer.

She looked so much like his love yet he could detect little changes about her; the hair, the hardened look in her eyes, more so than Buffy had even when she was facing the Master or Angelus, the closed off air she held tightly around herself like a shield. Most importantly of all, the lack of a Mating Mark adorning the right side of her neck. 

Crouching down to eye level, Angel reached out and gently brushed the tangled hair off her face, spreading it over the arm of the couch. He let his fingers linger on her cheek for long moments, watching in fascination as her sleep calmed and she turned into his cool hand. The sigh she let out reminded him of Buffy, the way she always knew when he was near her, when he watched over her.

Stoking her cheek, Angel leaned closer, resting his head on the cushion next to her, drinking in every detail of her appearance, letting his senses be fooled into believing that this was his love. They weren’t, though. There was the lack of his scent on her, the remaining bit of him in her that would never go away no matter what happened in their lives. There was another scent there, one of hatred and anger, one of drugs and fear. 

That scent made his stomach churn, his demon roar, his soul cry out in anger, but Angel relaxed his features and concentrated only on her. His face was inches from hers, it would be so easy just to lean in a bit more, press his lips to her parted ones, taste her sweetness once more, just one more time.

But he didn’t and using every ounce of willpower he had ever possessed, Angel pulled back; putting just a little more distance between them though miles wasn’t enough. He heard her sigh as he sat back on the floor, watched as she frowned at the loss of even that minimal contact, and wished that so many things were different.

Giles had watched the scene before him with mixed emotions. He knew how Angel felt about Buffy that was clear for all to see; he knew how Buffy felt about Angel, despite Riley her feelings for the vampire had never changed. But he knew, intimately, what happened when the two lovers gave into their passions, their basic right to be together as intimately as possible. And he had no desire to see it again.

Still, as the scene played out before him, he admitted that there was nothing anyone could do to stop feelings, and in such a bizarre and emotional situation as this that some things just had to be.

“Angel,” he said, coming to the only conclusion anyone could, “Why don’t you take Bu – Elizabeth upstairs?” He watched as the vampire gently scooped the Slayer into his arms and made his way to the stairs, “And Angel?” Paused, waited as he turned, “Stay with her, she needs someone…she needs you.”

Nodding, Angel smiled at the former watcher and proceeded up the stairs. Laying Elizabeth on Giles freshly made bed he removed her shoes, socks, debated for barely a second before removing her pants as well, but left her top on…for as much her modesty as his own sanity. Undressing down to his boxers, Angel climbed onto the bed and pulled the comforter over them. 

Immediately Elizabeth curled into his side, never waking.

He smiled, peace steeling over him…but not complete contentment as this wasn’t his Marked Mate…and fell into the most serene sleep he had had in a little over a year.

Part 7        Part 9

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