Part Forty-Two

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"Angel, what have you been seeing in those dreams?" Buffy asked him out of the blue while they were eating dinner, this time knowing she wouldn't drop it until she would receive an answer.

He looked up from his plate. "Nothing that concerns you."

She was taken aback. He had NEVER spoken to her this way. "What's happening to you?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling.

"I said, nothing," he snapped, "it is not something I must discuss with you about. In fact, there is NOTHING I must discuss with you about. Mind your own business, Buffy."

Buffy was justly appalled. She glanced at the two footmen standing at the entrance to the dining hall, motioning with her head for them to leave.

After they had been gone, she faced her husband. "Why are you using this tone with me? Why are you talking to me like that?"

"Like what?" he didn't even bother to lift his eyes and make eye contact with her.

"Like…like I mean nothing." Tears started rising in her throat, and she had a strong feeling she would very soon not be able to impede them anymore. "You've been treating me like that for weeks now."

He finally locked eyes with her, his gaze cold, roughly malignant. "Because you mean nothing. To me, you have always meant nothing. Now, be quiet and finish your dinner, it is no cause for a scene."

"Angel…" she sobbed.

"I said I do NOT want any scenes!" he whacked the table with his fist, and Buffy had a ghastly perception this blow was meant for her. She stood up and started backing away from the table, not really knowing why, only driven by abrupt dread.

Angel rose, and grabbed her arm forcefully and intended to pull her back, when he suddenly froze in mid motion, stumbling backwards into his chair. When he gazed at her afterwards, his eyes were so lost and so forlorn it terrified her far more than any outburst of fury he might have, and he was crying too.

She sent a hesitant hand to touch his face. "Angel, what is happening to you?" She moved her chair closer to him, taking him into her arms, caressing his back as he cried on her shoulder. He didn't hug her back.

"My God, what is doing this to you? Angel, please, tell me. I'll find a way to stop it, I swear. Just tell me. Talk to me," she tried to look him straight in the eye.

"I cannot…I cannot do it anymore. I cannot stand it anymore," he whispered, as he finally dared to look at her.

"What, Angel?"

"This," he gestured towards himself, "myself."

Buffy didn't comprehend. "Why?"

"Why did you lie to me, Buffy? How could you lie to me?" he answered with a query of his own.

She was astounded. "Lie to you? I've never lied to you, I swear…"

"You are lying!" he bellowed.

His voice made her entire body shudder.

"You lied to me," he cried, "you lied to me about what I would become! How could you?! Why? Why?!"

She gulped, eyeing him with sheer horror in her eyes. "How…"

"The dreams, Buffy! The nightmares! What do you think they are about?! They have been going on for weeks now! For weeks, I cannot sleep, I have no peace, I have forgotten what peace feels like! Every second that flies by, I lose more and more of myself to this madness. I cannot live like this! I cannot live at all! I no longer want to! Not after I have done all those horrible things!"

"Angel, you haven't…"

"For me it is the same as if I have committed those crimes myself! Do you not understand?! I could feel it! I felt his rage, his inclemency, his fulfillment, just as I felt their torment, their anguish, their despair and fear! I felt it then, and I am feeling it right now, and it will not let me go! How can I go on living like this? Knowing this? I am not a man anymore! I have not been a man for weeks! I am a monster! A madman, with no prospect or will to live! It hurts so much I wish I were dead! When I wander at night, endeavoring to keep sleep as far away from me as I can, I pray for redemption, I pray for death! Is this your terminology of life?!

Buffy looked at him for a long moment, willing to give her life if only to never see that inconceivable tribulation in his eyes again. "Angel, I will help you," she said eventually, "I promise, I will do everything to…"

"But it is YOUR fault!" he yelled, springing up from his seat and darting out of her reach before she could touch him.

"My?…"

"Yes! YOUR fault! ALL your fault! You lied to me! You, the only person in this world I trusted completely, lied to me! And now, I must cope with it on my own! And I cannot remain sane under this burden any longer!" Another flow of tears burst out of his eyes.

"I didn't mean to…" she sobbed helplessly, "I didn't know…"

"I do not care!" he yelled. "I do not wish to see you again! Stay out of my sight! Stay as far away from me as this house allows!"

"I love you," she sobbed, at a last futile attempt to reach him.

"Stay away from me!" he restated, storming out of the room. "Stay out of my life, for as long as I live, which will not be too long!"

Buffy sank down into her chair, and slowly, tiredly, her head fell into her open palms, with the increase of her sobs.

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She hadn't realized how long it had been; she'd lost all track of time. Her heart and soul were still so shaken and bruised from the way he had treated her. Her Angel, her sweet, tender and loving Angel. It was definitely something that would take a lot of time to digest. There had never been a single time when he had been even a little close to raising either his hand or his voice at her. NEVER. And tonight, he did them both. She was still unable to grasp that the man who had stormed out of that room earlier, was the same man whom she had been so utterly happily married for the past two years, and whom she loved so completely. He couldn't have been the same person, there was no way. And yet…she knew he was.

Buffy would give everything to find whatever or whoever had been doing this to him and stop them, stop whatever had been tormenting his soul so greatly, and the worst part was that he would not cooperate. He would NOT let anyone near him, not only emotionally, but physically as well. He was closing more and more of himself away from the world, sinking deeper and deeper into whatever was consuming him, and Buffy knew he soon would be lost if she didn't find some way to stop it. And the entire time…she didn't know how. She didn't know how to help, because she didn't know what she was standing against, and THAT was the scariest part. What was that? Or who was that? Why would they want to hurt him? Why would ANYONE want to blemish a precious soul such as her Angel's? So many questions…and most of them begin with 'why'…

"Your Grace," a voice broke through her musings. Buffy's head gradually rose from her hands, with face red and puffy from weeping. She perceived her head suddenly weighted a tone. She inhaled, trying to concentrate her tearful blurry vision on the person before her.

"My Lady?" she called again.

Buffy sniffled and rubbed her eyes, to clear them at least a little. "Yes, Nell, what is it?" she asked in a husky voice.

The servant took a deep breath before speaking again. "May I have a minute of your time?"

Buffy merely motioned for her to take her husband's now vacant seat.

"I wish to talk to you…in the name of all the household, ma'am."

"I'm listening." Somehow, she already knew what it would be about.

"It is about the Duke, My Lady."

"I know," Buffy said abstractly.

"We are worried, My Lady. The elder servants are starting to believe he is possessed, and they even tried exorcism rituals on several occasions. He is not treating us well anymore, not as he used to. He is offensive, and contemptuous, and…the servants are afraid, ma'am. Some are threatening to flee. They are terrified to remain under his dominion."

Buffy's expression was all BUT surprised. "Well, so maybe they should," was all she responded.

"But…"

"I don't know what's happening to him!" she started sobbing again. "I don't know, Nell! You think if I did, I wouldn't be doing everything in my power and beyond to help my husband?"

"I was not implying…"

"I know. I didn't mean to shout at you, forgive me, I'm just under a lot of stress lately."

Nell looked down. "I know," she murmured.

"What do you want me to do? What are you suggesting I should do? Please, if you have any ideas, I'll be more than willing to hear them. I'm willing to try everything if it has the slightest chance to help him."

Nell merely sighed.

Buffy wiped her tears, speaking quietly and humbly now. "If I could do something, anything, I would. I swear, I would, but…"

"I understand. I suppose, I hoped, perhaps…you could help us, but you seem not to know anything yourself." She quieted for a spell, as if unsure whether or not to go on.

"What is it?" Buffy inquired.

"I…it is not my business, but…does he hurt you as well?"

Buffy just stared at her for a long moment, her eyes growing more pained by the second. "Leave me, Nell."

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I must have not asked," the girl instantly stood up, curtsied, and left the room, leaving Buffy alone with her unceasing thoughts and tears.

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"Dear Ilana,

As I'm writing those lines, I'm still having doubts about whether sending this letter to you is a good idea. I don't know why I haven't informed you of the situation when it only began, just as I don't know whether I'm right by letting you know now.

I guess I should get to it, then. It's about Angel. I won't start telling you the whole story (mostly because I'm not sure I know it myself) but I'll let you in on what's been going on recently.

He's acting strangely. He isn't the person that we know anymore. I'm scared to say this, and I can't believe I am, but it looks as if he's…evil. Literally. There really is no other definition. There is a chaos in the household, because servants fear him like a plague, and I don't know what to do. He neglects Daniel and pays no attention to me, and when he does, it's only to insult me or to blame me for what happens to him.

I'm really scared, Ilana. You are the only one I can talk to about it. I'm scared I might lose him completely to this madness.

It's all started from nightmares he's been somehow having about his vampire-self. I can't understand or come up with a possible origin, and it throws me even more.

I don't know what to do, Ilana. I was wondering, could you maybe come here?

Yours,
Buffy."

Buffy stared at the letter. *Is it wise?* she couldn't help but doubt. *Should I go through with it? Should she even know? What if it's best to leave her in the dark? What if it's safer…for her…from her own brother…oh, my God, what am I thinking?!… But how can I ever explain this to her? How can ANYONE explain something like that to a person? And on the other hand, she is still his sister. She has the right to know...*

A knock on the door tore her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she permitted.

"You have called for me, My Lady," the young footman said.

"Yes," Buffy rose from her chair, pacing over to him. "Is my husband home?"

"No," he swallowed.

She exhaled a silent breath of relief. "Good. I need you to bring this letter to my sister-in-law," she handed him the letter, which he accepted with a curtsy. "I need you to do this right now, without any delays whatsoever, this is highly significant. She must receive it tonight, and it must arrive into her hands and her hands alone, do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lady," he bowed.

"NO ONE must know I sent you to do this, ESPECIALLY not my husband."

"Of course, My Lady."

"Go now," Buffy dismissed him.

He bowed again and left.

Part Forty-Three

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Angel!" she ran towards him, embracing him tightly, her face scared and relieved at the same time. He hugged her back, but unlike her, felt nothing. "Oh, my God! I was so worried!"

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

She met his eyes, hers were full of love and emotion, his were cruel and scornful, but she was too blind to see. She was crying, tears of happiness, when she should be crying tears of agony. "Where did you go?"

"Been around," was all he said.

She leaned her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around him again. "Oh, my God," she sobbed, "I was freaking out. You just disappeared."

He pulled away and walked past her across the room. "What? I took off."

Her confusion grew and her voice changed into perplexed as she was tailing him. "But you didn't say anything. You just left."

"Yeah, like I really wanted to stick around after that," he excused mockingly, while putting on his shirt.

She didn't understand, or maybe she did but couldn't believe he'd just… "What?"

"You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo," he floated her, "although, I guess you proved that last night."

"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice shaking, knowing precisely what he was saying.

"Let's not make an issue out of it, okay? In fact, let's not talk about it at all. It happened."

"I...I don't understand. Was it me? Was I not good?"

"You were great, really. I thought you were a pro," he derided, knowing exactly how to inflict on her the utmost of pains.

"How can you say this to me?" her tears were streaming uncontrollably now, but she didn't care.

"Lighten up," he rolled his eyes, "it was a good time. It doesn't mean like we have to make a big deal."

"It IS a big deal!"

"It's what?" he laughed. "Bells ringing? Fireworks? A dulcet choir of pretty little birdies? Come on, Buffy. It's not like I've never been there before," he reached out his hand to touch her face, but she recoiled.

"Don't touch me."

"I should've known you wouldn't be able to handle it," he started leaving the apartment.

"Angel! I love you," she cried after him.

He gyrated, a smug smirk on his face. "Love you too. I'll call you."

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Angel's head shot up from the table, every minute part of his latter nightmare still fixed in front of his eyes, as clear as if he himself had been the one to abuse his love and desecrate her feelings. Tears were shimmering in his eyes again, and his head was reeling from so much more pain and confusion than he was able to take. He wished for two tiny arms to wrap themselves around him, to hold him until it would be at least a little better, a little more tolerable. He longed for the mellow voice to whisper in his ear words of love, and he craved for the tender caress of a small hand that possessed the power to ease his pangs.

But neither one of these was available. The only reaction he had received was of a drunken nobody at a table next to his, who turned his head only for a moment, to glance at the man who had made the noise that had awoken him from his slumber.

Angel looked down into the half-empty glass before him. His head was hurting in the leaden and excruciating fashion of a hangover, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd drunk as much as he had that night. And no wonder, because it was ages ago.

And now, it started again. Now, he was willing to do anything to stop that pain and that guilt from overwhelming him, and in the same time, he knew there was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do, and that made him feel only more powerless. And he had pushed away the only person who could somehow keep him sane, and he knew he would continue pushing her away. It wasn't because he was angry with her for not telling him. He didn't know what he felt at all, because he had lost every control over his emotions a very long time ago. The only emotion that was distinct and potent in his mind was pain. He knew nothing but pain.

Angel lifted his eyes again, when he felt someone standing above him, and even though he was still half-drunk, he plunged backwards in his chair like someone who'd just seen a ghost.

"You…" his voice was tremulous and barely discernible, but not for her ears.

She grinned. "I thought you would recognize me," she motioned towards the chair next to his. "You mind if I sit?"

Angel moved farther away as she sat down, still gaping at her, terrified and pale.

"You shouldn't fear me," she pointed out, smiling. "I don't bite…yet."

"Wh…who are you?" he finally managed to ask.

"Don't you remember me?" she looked carefully into his eyes, and Angel felt her gaze piercing through him.

His face lost every color it might have still possessed, and covered with perspiration, when he recalled the event she was clearly referring to. "You…" he whispered again.

"You want it to stop, don't you?" she asked, with no need for interpretation, knowing they were thinking about the same thing. "You want it so much to stop, don't you, my love?"

He gulped, yet couldn't help but nodding.

She smiled. "I know you do. It's killing you, isn't it? You can't stand that pain. It's too much pain, and you think there is no way to ever end it."

He cast down his eyes.

"Oh, you want to die, don't you? You think it will help you if you kill yourself? That it will stop?"

He looked up.

"It won't. Dying is too quick and too easy. It won't stop a strong pain such as yours now. But there is a way. You know what way, don't you?"

Angel's eyes widened. "No," he shook his head frantically.

"Oh, but yes," she grinned. "Yes, my darling. All you have to do is come with me. Come with me, and I promise it will stop. I promise you will never feel pain again. You will never feel anything again. But you must come willingly. You are so close, my love. So close...all you have to do is to give in to me completely. You know I'm your only salvation."

"No…"

"Yes. All you have to do is to say yes."

"No!" he shouted one last time, dashing out of the tavern.

She beamed winningly. "Oh, you will come, precious. You're half-way there already."

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"Buffy."

Buffy stopped pacing nervously across the main hall to the sound of Ilana's voice. She turned to face her sister-in-law, her expression so shattered and drained Ilana flinched.

She took Buffy by the arm, leading her to the nearest sofa.

"Now, tell me everything," she began after they had sat down, holding Buffy's hands for encouragement. "Tell me everything that's happened."

Buffy sighed. "I don't know how to. I don't know how to say this."

"And I need to know. I must know everything that is happening to my brother. If you did not think I should be informed, you would never send me that letter, and yet you have. Please, Buffy. It has been fretting me the whole way here. What is going on with him?"

"I'm not sure I know myself," Buffy admitted.

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "It started weeks ago, when he only began having those nightmares…"

"Nightmares? What nightmares?"

"Ilana, please. Let me tell you everything, then ask your questions."

Ilana nodded.

"At first, he wouldn't tell me what they were about. He kept everything to himself, not willing to share it with anyone. I tried to make him talk, I really did, but he wouldn't…" she started crying, "he wouldn't talk to me. And he was hurting so much, and I could see it, because whenever he would wake in the middle of the night from one of these nightmares, terrified to the bone like someone who's just seen his own death, it was my arms he cried into. And I couldn't help him. I couldn't help him, because he wouldn't talk to me. I don't know if there was a way to stop it, but maybe if he had at least talked to me…"

Ilana put a consoling hand on Buffy's arm.

"He became so withdrawn, alien, he's not the same person anymore. I would think it's because of those nightmares, if there wasn't this feeling telling me there's something more to it than just that. It's like he's enslaved to something, I don't even know if there's a term that can describe that. He's not the person we know. He's…he's someone else, someone…someone I'm scared of. I can't believe I'm saying it, but I am. And I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what to do to help him, and I don't know if it is possible to help him in the stage he's in now. I can't help this feeling telling me I'm too late, that there is no way back from this point. I don't wanna lose him, Ilana," she sobbed, "and I feel like I already have."

"What are these nightmares about?"

Buffy inhaled. "About his future," she murmured, "I told you."

Ilana was suddenly perplexed. "But…but I do not understand. You said he was good, that he was a good person in the future, how can he…you lied," her gaze finally rested on Buffy's tearful eyes.

"How could I not to?" she tried to make Ilana see her reasons. "He was a vampire, Ilana. Before he regained his soul, he was a vampire like any other. You know what vampires are and what they're like! How do you tell the person you love more than anything in the world he was a cold-blooded killer for over a century? Tell me, how?!"

Ilana looked away, sighing silently. She didn't know.

"I couldn't tell him. I…I just wanted to keep him safe, to shelter him from the exact torment he's going through right now, and somehow, I failed, somehow…somehow, he found out, and now, he's lost. He's lost, and I don't think I'll ever have him back again."

"It cannot be that hopeless…"

"But it is! You didn't see him, Ilana!"

Ilana reflected upon her next question before voicing it. "Has he…has he been drinking again?"

Buffy bit her lip, looking away. "I don't know. I'd say he might."

"You do not know? But how…you live in the same house…in the same ROOM! You are his wife, how can you not know?"

"Because we don't! That's just it, we DON'T live in the same house anymore, and definitely not in the same room! I barely get to see him nowadays! He's hardly ever in the house, and I have no idea where he's staying when he's gone. Whenever our paths cross, the only thing that might come out of it is that he shouts at me, blames me for everything, and…" her tears started again, "a couple of days ago, we were eating dinner, and…and he got mad and…he almost hit me. He'd never ever raised a hand on me before. Never. And now, it's…I don't even know what to expect from him anymore. He hasn't been home at all since that night. I don't know what's happening to him, I don't know what he's doing, and I don't know…I don't know who he is anymore, and frankly, I think I'm scared to find out."

"Are you certain…are you certain there is no way?"

"The only person, and I repeat, ONLY person, that might be capable of something that horrible, is dead. Twice."

"I cannot believe this," Ilana murmured, "it cannot be happening."

"It is," Buffy insisted, "it's happening, and it's real." Suddenly, her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I need a favor, Ilana. I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

Buffy sighed heavily. "I need you to take Daniel away from here. Take him to stay with you and your husband until I find a way to stop it. Take Laura too."

"Buffy, I cannot…do you really think it has come to that?"

"Ilana, please, just do it. Take them somewhere where I know they will be safe, because here is not that place."

"You do not really think Liam could…"

"I don't know what to think!" she cut her. "I just need to get them out of here for a while. Now, can you help me?"

Ilana seemed to be deep in thoughts.

"Please," Buffy pleaded.

"What are you doing here?"

The two women turned towards the third person that had just entered the room.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated his former question, glaring at his younger sister.

"Liam," she stood up, unable to keep the fear out of her eyes. Buffy had been right in everything she had told her. The living proof to all that was now standing before her, resembling her brother, yet not being him.

He was drunk. They both could smell it.

"Angel!" Buffy darted into his arms, hugging him. "Thank God you're here, I was so worried! Where have you been?"

He pushed her away. "NEVER touch me," he told her, before turning towards Ilana. "Leave."

She appeared shocked. "What?"

"You heard me. Leave, now. You are not wanted here. In fact, no one is."

"Angel, stop it!" Buffy cried. "Stop it, and listen to me! I love you, Angel, please, listen to me! We will make it through this…"

"No! I have to make it through this, BY MYSELF! YOU, stay out of my life!"

"Angel, please, it's not you…you know it's not you. I love you, honey, please, talk to me, I beg you, Angel," she started towards him, but he shoved her against the nearest wall.

"Oh, God..." he gasped, his eyes softening for only a split second as he gazed at his wife, the exact time that took him to cover his face with two wavering hands. "LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" he shouted abruptly, and dashed out of the house, leaving a crying Buffy perched on the floor.

Ilana ran over to her, helping her up. "Are you alright?" she inquired worriedly.

Buffy shook Ilana off of her, climbing to her feet by herself. She briefly grimaced and pressed one hand to her stomach. "Take Daniel, take Laura and then leave," she commanded, her voice, although hoarse with tears, leaving no room for discussion, "leave, right now." She headed upstairs, not leaving Ilana the opportunity to reply.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to listen to my first and only guess, and I'm ending it tonight."

Ilana just stared after her, until her form disappeared up the stairs.

Part Forty-Four

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"Looking for me, cheerleader?" Buffy heard a familiar voice emitting from the shadows.

The Slayer halted, swiftly rotating in the direction of the voice. She smirked, leisurely retrieving a stake from behind her back. "Not really, but I think he does," she rested her back against a tree stem, nervously twiddling with the stake in her hand. "Wouldn't you just DIE for a close encounter with Mr. Pointy?"

Darla slowly and gracefully stepped out of the shadows, her ravishing white gown shining in the pure silver of the moon. She inspected Buffy's look head-to-toe for a long moment. "Kinda unusual outfit for our time, don't you think?" she pointed out contemptibly.

Buffy arched a brow. "OUR time?" she chuckled. "You know, I might have been out of the game for a while, but somehow, I REALLY don't think this is YOUR time. So, how old are we now, grandma? Four? Five hundred?"

Darla smirked. "Very good. How did you know?"

Buffy chuckled. "What, that you're not this generation's Darla? Well, let's think, shall we? Umm…well, we could start with 'cheerleader', that one just wouldn't come from her, now, would it? You called me that before, remember? Just before my lover reduced your sorry ass to dust?" she grinned, seeing the flash of burning malice in the vampiress' eyes. "Then, I'd say you can't be this time's Darla, at least, because I dusted you…her myself, okay, which automatically rises the question, what the Hell are you? So, have I answered all of your questions? In this case, it's about time you answered all of mine. Who, or to be exact WHAT, the Hell are you?"

"It isn't any of your business, sweetie," Darla replied with a derisive smirk.

"If you don't wanna fit into an ashtray, you'll answer my question, SWEETIE," Buffy returned mockingly.

Darla laughed derisively. "And one thought that being an eighteenth century Duchess for two years would cool your perky attitude off a little. Well, one can obviously be wrong. You got some nerve, little girl," she ridiculed, "but then again, I already knew that."

"Coming from you, I'd say it's a compliment," Buffy retorted, but as soon as her grin showed, it was gone. "Speak up," she demanded steely.

"What do you want from me, girl? Since when must I excuse my deeds before you?"

"Since after it started hurting my husband. Do you even have the slightest idea of what you're doing to him?"

Darla gazed at the Slayer for a long moment. Both women knew this conversation was no longer between a Slayer and a vampire. It was between two women, who wanted the same man. The confrontation was utterly humanistic now. "I don't do anything to him," the vampiress finally spoke. "YOU were the one who did things. You changed timelines, changed history, made things that weren't supposed to happen possible. The list is long, do you want me to go on? What's happening to him now is not my fault, it is yours, entirely. YOU are doing this to him."

Buffy stopped toying with her stake. "You're lying," she stated firmly.

Darla smiled. She knew she had hit the exactly right spot. Her advantage on Buffy was one, and one only – she knew how to weaken her, fast, with no need whatsoever to use her physical strength to obtain that goal. Buffy's emotions did make the Slayer in her stronger, but that Slayer would be dead if someone found out just how weak these same emotions really made her. "Am I? Then why are you still listening to me? we could have been fighting by now, nevertheless, you don't seem to want us to. You know your faults, little girl. You know you had no right to do what you did." She could sense Buffy's spirit enfeebling already. Oh, how she loved the aroma of dread and frailty in her victims.

Buffy felt herself being sapped, but tried to fight it for all she was worth. "I might have done wrongs, but I have never hurt anyone by doing so."

Darla laughed. "And how do you know that, exactly? You say you haven't hurt anyone, well, how on earth can you be so sure? For instance, let's take all the people who died in Los Angeles and Sunnydale, because there was no Slayer called Buffy Summers to save them? What about all the people HE was destined to save in Los Angeles, but now never would, and it is all because of your little selfish machination!"

Buffy swallowed hard. These thoughts were the precise ones she had had to cope these two years. She hated it. She hated her enemy knowing her so well, because it made her weaker than her. She hated that her enemy could read her like an open book. After all, all of these things were the exact ones that had granted Angelus his preeminence on her. She hated to be the putty in her adversary's hands, and she hated the most the fact that this adversary was Darla. "What do you want?" she inquired.

"I want what is rightfully mine. Is it too much to ask for? I want what is meant to be mine. Don't you think it's only fair?"

Buffy shook her head determinedly. "You won't get him."

"I don't think you have a choice in the matter, my dear. I ALREADY have him, you and I both know it. It's only a matter of time until I have him completely. Remember the nightmares? Somehow, you weren't that stupid to figure out they were engendered by me. What did you tell him, Buff? What did you tell him when he dreamt about murdering his family, about murdering all of these people? What did you tell him when he asked you why? What did you tell him when he wanted to know why you had lied to him? Why you hadn't told him of the monster and vicious killer that he was to become? What did you tell him?!"

"You self-centered bitch!" Buffy snapped. "How can you do that?! How can you do that to a person?! Don't you get it you're practically driving him insane?!" Despite the anger in her voice, there were sparkling tears forming in her lost eyes.

"Am I?" Darla smiled triumphantly. "Am I the selfish one? Who amongst us has changed the course of history, and merely to fit her wishes? Who changed what was meant to happen, only so she wouldn't have to kill her lover? Who stayed in a time she didn't belong to, only not to have to live without him in a time she did? Who was responsible for a continuation of a line that was to be extinguished? Was it all I?!"

Hot tears leaked down the Slayer's cheeks. She knew perfectly well what Darla was doing, and the most horrible thing was that she knew just as well that Darla was very quickly gaining the upper hand. "I love him," she whispered.

"And I don't?!"

"No, you don't! You can't!" Buffy cried. "You don't love him! Whatever it is you call love, it isn't it! You're incapable of loving! You can only want! You want to have him, to possess him! That is all you want!"

"How dare you?! You stupid worthless brat, I have lived so much longer than you ever will, seen and underwent things you will never see or go through, and you dare to question my feelings? My intentions?! I know so much more about love and life than you ever will! How dare you say I don't love him?!"

"Years don't aggrandize your wisdom! You can live for centuries and learn nothing, and you can live for twenty years and learn so much more! You know I'm right, and this is WHY you lash out! You want, and you take whatever you want. This is the ONLY way it works with you!"

"I take?! I?! YOU stole him from me! You took centuries away from us, and you had no right! He was made to be mine!"

Darla morphed into her demon face, and Buffy abruptly came to notice her stake was no longer in her possession. She attempted to concentrate on the vampiress, but it was in vain. Her body was quivering with unruly sobs that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Darla had her snared, and there was no way out of this dead end. "Why are you doing this? Why are you so keen to destroy him? You're killing him, do you know that? If you love him…if you love him as much as you profess you do, how can you smite him like that?"

"I have every right to do that! HE. IS. MINE! He belongs to ME, and I'll get him back! He isn't your Angel! He is my Angelus! MY lover! MY childe! And I WILL bring him back to the dark side, where he belongs, and making him see everything his demon could have done if you hadn't stepped in was only the beginning! If it drives him insane, so be it! I WILL have him back eventually, and that's what counts. It is your fault as well, dearie! If you had told him everything in the past, if you had told him the truth of what he was to become, this would have been so much easier on him now! So, blame no one but yourself, princess! YOU are tormenting him, not I, YOU!" Darla strode forward and clasped her hand around Buffy's neck, jouncing her as if she weighted nothing.

Buffy emitted a painful cry, closing her hands around the vampiress' in an empty attempt to ease her grip, and Darla hurled her to the ground. "Fight me!" she demanded, kicking her violently.

Buffy didn't respond. She didn't budge, only looked down to the ground.

"Fight me, damn you!" Darla flailed her again, but still received no backlash. "Why don't you fight me?! You're supposed to be the Slayer, can't you at least go with style?!"

"Because if I don't, it will show you as the coward you are?" Buffy spat back. "You won't have him, Darla," she hissed hoarsely, "even if you do get me out of the way, you won't have him. He will never be yours, and deep inside, you know it too."

Darla beamed abruptly. "Then perhaps, I won't. I rather leave it to him, anyway," she squatted in front of the Slayer, raising her chin, and peering deeply into her teary eyes. "My sweet," she whispered, "such a pretty face you have there. I have to say, he does have style in picking his girls." Suddenly, she dropped Buffy's chin again and rose back to her feet. "I wanna see this face," she informed her bluntly, "I wanna see it, when I will force you to watch him murder your son. And afterwards, my dearie, I will watch him kill you. Remember my precious baby?" her smile grew even wider at the look of terror on Buffy's face. "Oh, you remember, don't you? Of course, you do. You remember how he likes to kill, how he enjoys torturing, and he has so many different techniques you don't even know of. But we'll fix it, won't we, darling? We'll teach you, on your own flesh. Oh, he will kill you, slowly, painfully. You, and that child within you."

Buffy wrapped her arms protectively around her belly. "If there's one thing I can do, it's not give you the satisfaction," she tried to hold her tone as steady as she could in her state.

Darla shrugged. "Then, I'll just save you the trouble and kill you now." She started towards the Slayer again, when she abruptly stopped. Both women gazed at the vampiress' chest, at the wooden stake that suddenly appeared protruding from there. Darla revolved, gazing with wide eyes at the person behind her. "Angel…" she whispered in utter disbelief, before she crumbled to dust.

Buffy peered up at her husband and rescuer with shimmering tearful eyes. "Angel?" she uttered his name softly.

He looked down at the ash covering his clothes, then his eyes slowly roamed towards the stake in his hand, and he dropped it to the ground as if it were on fire.

"Angel?" Buffy spoke again, tears welling up in her eyes. "Angel, please, say something," she begged him.

He finally gazed up at her, his eyes as tearful as hers. Then he looked down at the stake lying amid the dust and the dead leaves at his feet. Another second, and he was gone.

Buffy gazed at the empty place he had only a moment ago stood at. "Angel…" she sobbed silently, having no one to hear her but the dark forest that was surrounding her. First drops of an Autumn rain started falling down on her, as if the heavens were crying too. She slowly stood up, and started heading back home, embracing her arms tightly around herself.

And the drizzle converted into a hailstorm.

Part Forty-Five

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The second Buffy entered the house, her eyes rested on the terrified ones of her sister-in-law.

"Have you found him?" she inquired anxiously.

Buffy was dripping wet. The squall outside was only becoming stronger and stronger with every passing second. She had scarcely managed to find her way back home. Any second, it seemed it would start snowing, and the feral whistles of the draught could be heard even inside the mansion. The chill and the water seemed to have pervaded into her bones, and she was shivering like a leaf. And all in all, there was a blunt distinct between the traces of tears and those of raindrops on her face. *Angel isn't home,* she took her time to process it, to let the entire import of it sink in, and it really did take that truth a while before it hit home. *HE ISN'T HOME!!!* She gulped, wrapping her arms around herself again, and looked up to meet Ilana's eyes. "Are you sure? Ilana, are you absolutely SURE he's not home yet?" A part of her was dreading the answer she might receive.

Ilana nodded. "I am. Buffy, what is happening? I beg you, tell me. It has gone too far."

Buffy didn't answer. She only whirled around and started opening the door, but Ilana slammed it at the last moment. Buffy turned to her. She had never expected such a bold response from the other woman.

Ilana stared at her, eyes wide and filled with a peculiar blend of fear, anguish, and astonishment.

"Move out of my way," Buffy commended quietly.

Ilana shook her head slowly. "No."

"I have to find him!"

"No!" Ilana demurred. "You will die! Do you not see what is happening outside?!" there were tears in her eyes as well now. The same concept crossed both their minds right now, he could already be dead.

"The only thing I can see outside is my husband," Buffy said firmly, "and I WILL find him, no matter what. I'm going," Buffy revolved to the door again.

"Wait!" Ilana touched her shoulder. "At least…at least, allow me to send someone instead. You do not understand…" she cried, "we cannot…we cannot lose you too," she beseeched.

"No," Buffy refused, "I need to find him, and I'm going by myself. I've wasted enough time already, talking to you. And believe me, Ilana, if he dies…" she inhaled a deep breath. No, she wouldn't even ponder upon that. She wouldn't, because it could never be true.

Before Ilana could say anything else, Buffy was gone.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She had no idea where to search for him. She had no idea where he might be, where he might go, or why he might go there. She had no clue where to begin looking.

Buffy considered starting with the woods, but very soon dismissed that idea. After about half an hour of rummage, and clothes so drenched they were literally impeding her movements, she realized there was no chance in the world she would ever find him there, even IF he were there. It was no place for a person to be in a time such as this, she herself had been nearly knocked off by a plunging tree due to the gale.

She had no other choice but to rely on her instincts, and let them guide her. She attempted to call his name several times, but received no reply. She didn't even perceive the echo of her own voice that was muted by the thunder and the rain. He was nowhere to be seen. It was as if the ground had opened and swallowed him.

Buffy was cold. She was also tired, and soaking wet, and still, there was no trace of him. The rational part of her prompted he couldn't have gone that far, however, searching for him in the nearby scope brought no results. The lands spreading about the estate that belonged to the family were immense. On the west, there were the woods, and he wasn't there, as far as she knew, at least. On the south, there were the gardens, and Buffy knew they weren't even worth checking. Eastward, there was the road leading to Galway city center, and the north…the road to the family's graveyard.

Abruptly, it hit her. *The cemetery!* He would be there. He would definitely be there! Buffy recalled how Angel used to go there at least twice a month to visit his father's grave. She had accompanied him on several occasions, but mostly, he had wanted to go alone. Buffy knew how much he still missed him, because he had never tried concealing it from her. She also knew that these visits granted him a tremendous sense of closure to the departed man, and most importantly, peace. She headed there.

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And she was right, though her thoughts, the moment she found him, were as far from being happy as they could get. After she had succeeded in releasing the air that seemed to be stuck in her lungs to the sight of him, Buffy rushed to his form, sodden and curled on the muddy ground, inclining against the frozen headstone. She squatted in front of Angel, wrapping her arms around him.

He was weak, barely conscious, and his weight lay against her more like a lifeless corpse than a person, being even heavier because of the drenched clothes.

"Angel," she moaned through her tears, holding his head in her lap, "Angel, say something," she gently cleared the water and the stray hair from his face, but it was moistened again soon by the falling rain.

His eyes twitched and fluttered open, but he closed them again after a moment, in which his gaze didn't even seem to locate her.

Buffy hugged him tightly to her. "It's over," she whispered, "it's finally over, Angel."

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The first thing Angel became aware of the next day when he woke up was that these were the cushions and blankets of his own warm bed he was lying on, and not his father's grave. What had transpired the previous night? He strove to recall, but all his attempts were vainly. He didn't seem to be able to recollect one solid detail from anything that had taken place in the past few weeks. Everything was a blur. Darla…Darla. That's what had happened. He could clearly remember following his wife into the forest when she left to hunt down the vampiress. He remembered hearing Darla telling Buffy all those horrible things…the child. He hadn't even known she was pregnant again. On the other hand, considering the way he'd been acting recently, there was no wonder she had been afraid to inform him of it. His and Buffy's baby. They were going to have a baby again…his and Buffy's…and both she and the unborn could be killed last night.

But he'd saved her. He'd saved both of them, in the first moment of clarity he'd had in weeks. Angel's heart almost skipped a beat when he considered what might have happened if he hadn't been there. He had finally grasped that. He had almost lost her...almost…so close…he had been so close…

All because of his self-centeredness, all because of his hostility towards her while she hadn't deserved this sort of treatment. All because of his indifference towards everything that hadn't been about him, all because of his utter concentration in his individual woe…oh, he excelled in blaming himself. He was VERY good.

She had lied to him. It was true, there were no arguments there. She really had lied to him. But what a lie had it been? It had been innocent and pure, done only in purpose to shelter him and protect him from the truth, and the truth was worse. It was so much worse…he wished he had never learned of it. He wished he had never learned of the truth.

Angel understood now why she had been doing it. Yes, she had wanted to keep him in the dark, but it had been because of him, FOR him, not for her. There had been nothing selfish or base in what she had done, and he was sure of it now more than ever. He could still remember all the dreams Darla had inflicted upon him, about what his future self could have done if what was to happen in that dark alley two years ago, would have really taken place. Now, that he knew everything, he knew what was it Buffy had feared so much he would find out, what exactly was it that she'd wished to shelter him from. And he loved her…he loved her so much. He loved her for that…and for so many many other things, countless things she had done and would do for him.

There was something else Angel had realized just now. The nightmares, the sights, the voices, the horror…everything that he'd been seeing for weeks, everything that had been haunting him for weeks – the memories of those immeasurable deeds he hadn't done – they were slowly, very slowly, but fading away. He could recall less and less, and knew it was a matter of days until he would forget everything. He would be free again. He would be finally free, just like he had been…before. He had finally come to this cognizance; it was all about Darla. Right after Darla had been gone, the memories had started to vanish as well. It had been she all along. It had been she who had tormented him, who had almost taken the lives of his family and his own, and who had brought all this anguish. She had brought them, and she had been the one to take them away. Neither she, nor they, belonged here. They didn't belong with him. He hadn't done anything. The cognition of it alone brought him the most fabulous serenity.

Abruptly, Angel felt a piercing pain through his chest he couldn't comprehend. Ho bolted up in bed, and pressed his palm to his chest, coughing as if something was strangling him from the inside. His throat was sore and dry, and the pain stung on, even after his convulsions seemed to have stopped. He was panting, as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

And then, he felt a gentle hand brushing his back, and a similar hand slipping into his and holding it reassuringly. The hand that was on his back, started gently caressing his hair, moving it away from his face. When the pains finally stopped, he fell back on the pillows and closed his eyes. His throat was on fire, and his chest was ablaze inside, and the only thing that seemed to have the power to cool them both, was the small hand, still tightly holding his large one.

Then, he felt tender lips touch his burning brow, and tender fingers wipe away the sweat.

"Honey?" she whispered. "Do you hear me? Angel?"

He swallowed, soon regretting about that, because of the intense pain it caused him, and opened his eyes. She appeared muddled. She had never appeared so muddled to him…

He tried to speak, but no sound was leaving his lips.

Her hand slipped out of his for a moment, and he felt the bed moving with her.

After a moment, the feel of her hand was back, and now it was angling his head up, and Angel felt water running down his raw throat, cooling it, putting down the fire. She carefully lowered his head back and reposed it on the cushions.

"What is happening to me?" he finally inquired weakly, after finding his voice.

Her lips met his brow again. "Nothing," she whispered in her softest voice, "you're alright now. You just caught a cold last night, you're sick," she kissed him again, "but you're alright."

He finally managed to focus his sight on her. "Buffy…"

"Shh…" she whispered, "don't speak. It's okay, sweetie, I'm here. Everything's okay."

"I," he took a deep breath, "I am so sorry."

She smiled at him tenderly. "You don't have anything to apologize for. You have done absolutely nothing wrong."

"I love you," Angel said hoarsely. He could so clearly perceive her brilliant smile through his half-closed and heavy eyelids.

"I love you too," Buffy kissed his lips. "Sleep now." She pulled the covers up to his neck, and tucked him in.

Angel burrowed in them, relishing the familiar homely warmth and coziness.

Buffy lay down next to him, hugging his body to her.

"Will you…will you stay?" he asked in a pleading whisper.

She kissed his crown and hugged him closer. "Always."

Part Forty-Six

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Voices invaded his dreams. They were alien at first, but then became more and more familiar.

"Has he come out at all today?"

"No. I haven't left his side. He hasn't opened his eyes once."

"Is it ever going to be over?"

"I'm worried about him. I don't know, I…I've never seen anyone reacting to a fever like that. I mean, in my time, it was just, well...nothing."

"Well, it is not your time! People die from it here! Every day! And especially after what he has been through! Should I remind you the state he was in when you brought him home?! Our father..."

"Don't! Don't say it! I can't watch him die again, I watched him die TWICE already! Don't you dare saying it!"

"I am sorry…I am so sorry, please…forgive me, I am just…I am so upset, and it is so…it is all so frustrating to me. I am so scared. Please, do not cry again, I…I wish our tears could make it better, but it is just not enough. Please, forgive me."

"I…I can't go through this again. I'll give my life for him if I have to, but this…I can't do anything to stop this…"

"We never can, it is not in our power. All we can do now is pray."

"I don't pray! Praying doesn't help, dammit! I don't believe in God! How can you even think about God, when YOUR BROTHER has been lying in THIS state for days?! There is no God! If there were, he wouldn't allow this!"

His head started to ache from the shouts, and he felt like it was going to explode. He started feeling dizziness when he tried to open his eyes, and let out a quiet groan.

Both of the voices hushed in an instant, and she was by his side.

"Angel?" her hand gently stroked his sweaty face, and he attempted to open his eyes again, now staring at her through two thin cracks, at first, not quite understanding why she came out so blurry. Before he could figure it out, his head started to throb again, and he closed his eyes. Next, he felt a cool wet cloth touching his face, and it eased the pain a little. Then, he heard the voices again.

"I think the fever has broken."

"Thank God!"

"Yeah. And now let's hope it stays that way. Honey? Angel, can you hear me? Angel, do you hear me?"

He wanted to say something. He even almost opened his mouth, but his throat was dry and raw. When he swallowed to moisten it, it only brought more pain. But then it was suddenly better, soothing water washed all over the soreness. It hurt less now. He dared to inhale a single hesitant breath, but coughed it right out. And now he felt the water humidifying his face, and the heat slowly leaving him.

"Angel?" he heard her voice again. It sounded so much clearer now, for some reason. It also sounded pleading; almost desperate.

"I think he has fallen asleep again," the other voice spoke. It sounded like his sister.

"No," she declined, he could detect tears in her tone. "Angel, please stay here. Talk to me."

He tried to. He strove to speak, but it was like something he was powerless against was impeding him. The last thing he remembered from before his mind slipped into an unconscious sleep was her lips, gently caressing his. A sweet kiss mixed with bitter tears.

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It was dark the second time. Even before he opened his eyes, he'd already known it was nighttime. He felt the pain had lessened greatly; it was actually the first thing he became aware of. He didn't feel as flaming too, everything was abruptly so much cooler. He swiftly realized that at least some of it he owned to the sodden fabric on his forehead. The facts that his head didn't hurt as much, and wasn't spinning anymore were the next things that came to his attentiveness, and it allowed him to open his eyes. He had been right, the room was dark. Only the light coming from the twinkling stars in the faraway heavens cast a soft mellow glow in it.

His next recognition was to his sudden craving for food. He didn't know how long he hadn't eaten, it only seemed like forever to him, and nor he knew how much he had slept. Or for that matter, also when he had last woken up, or at least, had tried to, although a vague memory prompted him it had been several hours ago.

He propped himself up on his elbows, and at the beginning couldn't help but being surprised he'd possessed the stamina to perform that act, and that it increased the pain in his head only a bit. He became aware of the moistened cloth once again when it fell from his brow onto his lap, and that moment was the moment when his mind became completely clear for the first time in what resembled centuries to him. Angel endeavored to think back to his latest distinct memory. Darla. She had wanted to turn him into a vampire…he didn't know why, didn't know what for, didn't know anything. What was it that Darla had really wanted? He didn't know. Buffy had never told him about his years as a vampire, so how could he ever know what Darla had been trying to achieve by turning him? He remembered staking her though. Yes, THAT memory was lucid, no doubt. He staked her…to save Buffy. And then, he had run through the woods…where had he been running to? The cold cemetery…his father's grave…he'd lost consciousness there, he reminisced of that now. He reminisced it had been so cold…and the rain…what had he been doing there in the rain? Had he dreamt it, or had Buffy truly found him there and half-carried him back home? He didn't know for sure. It was all still a blur to him, like something he wasn't certain whether it was a dream or had it actually transpired. But…she must have, because…he was in their room…in their bed…*Buffy!* he remembered now; Buffy was pregnant…and she had almost died. A shudder ran throughout his entire body as he rotated to peer at his sleeping wife. Angel smiled faintly, reaching out a hand and gently stroking the sides of her face. "Mo aingeal," he whispered softly.

A smile lit her face, but Angel could see she thought it to be a mere dream.

He placed a gentle hand on her still flat belly. It was his baby somewhere in there, he smiled at the thought. His second baby, his and Buffy's. He bent forward and kissed it tenderly, wincing a bit, but giving no mind to it, then he wrapped his arms around his love. A second later, he abruptly released her from his embrace, and drew away from her, pain flashing in his chocolate orbs, and this time, it wasn't at all physical.

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Buffy sighed, and slowly opened her tired eyes. She raised her head from the pillow and only gazed at him for a long moment, before brushing her lips against his forehead, only to find out it wasn't as warm anymore. "Angel?" she whispered in a bit frightened voice, mixed with hope and happiness.

After a lasting moment, he still hadn't answered her.

Buffy sighed, resting her head on his chest, letting her worries drown in his steady heartbeat. One of her hands gripped his, while the other found his shoulder and lay there, tracing it tenderly with her fingertips. "At least, you're alive," she contemplated silently.

Abruptly, she felt his hand squeezing hers, while the other started gently caressing her back.

She raised her head again, and her large astonished eyes met his. "Angel?" she uttered his name, her eyes gazing at him with love, incredulity and concern.

Angel could read her thoughts. "I am alright," he smiled, even though they both knew he still wasn't. The fever might have broken, but he was still far from being alright.

Buffy touched his cheek tenderly. "Are you sure?" she most certainly wasn't going to buy it, and it was so evident in her voice, he'd have to be deaf to let it pass. "You…you were lying with fever for days. In some point, I th…Ilana thought…nothing," she shook her head, "never mind. When did you wake up?"

Angel sat up, gently removing her protesting hands from his chest as she tried to keep him down, but soon leaned his back on the pillows, emitting a quiet sight. He smiled, but then scrutinized her seriously. "You say…I was asleep for days? Are you certain?"

She put her palm on his brow and frowned. "Beyond a shadow of a doubt. I was there the whole time. I think these days were the longest of my life." She quickly brushed away the tears that started in her eyes and swallowed hard. "You don't remember? You had a fever, it…it lasted for about a week. You were coming in and out, you…you don't remember…anything?"

Angel looked away, but Buffy caught the flash of shame in his eyes nevertheless.

"What is it?" she questioned softly, turning his face back to her.

He sighed. "I remember...that I hurt...so many people. I hurt you. I hurt you so much...I am so sorry," his voice cracked as tears escaped his eyes. "I am so sorry," he sobbed, as Buffy took him into her arms, kissing his head.

"It's okay," she stroked his hair gently, "I forgive you."

"How can you?" he pulled back from her. "How can you forgive everything I have done to you? How can you be with me, after I," he looked down at his hands with disgust, "oh, God, I...I hit you?! I do not deserve you."

Buffy took his hands in hers, kissing each one and encircling them around herself, then smiled at him. "I love you so much," she told him, "do you think I can stop loving you because of what happened?"

"But I..."

She placed her index finger on his lips. "Never say that. It wasn't you, do you hear me? It wasn't you. NOTHING that happened was your fault. You were in pain, you were hurting so much that you allowed confusion take over you. You weren't in control, and you weren't in position to prevent everything that happened. YOU are the most loving, gentle and caring person I know. YOU aren't capable of this. It is not you to blame."

"Then who?" he wanted to know.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Do you...do you remember Darla? Do you know what happened with her?"

At this, he nodded. "She wanted to turn me. She brought nightmares to me…or dreams…about…about…" his eyes got a sudden inexplicable distrait look.

Buffy awaited for his answer with an anxiety similar to someone who awaits death penalty and might just be pardoned.

"I do not know," he finally admitted before her.

Buffy let out a breath of pure relief he obviously didn't understand.

He beheld her worryingly. "Should I? Should I remember? Were they…were they momentous?"

"I wish you forgot all about it. I wish you forgot Darla completely. Thank God you can't remember the pain this woman caused you," she told him thoughtfully.

Angel stroked her face. "I am...I...I am forgetting everything, this is strange, but…"

"This is good," Buffy cut in, "it's good only when it's over."

"I have so much to make amends for," he whispered, "so many people I have maltreated, so many I must apologize to."

Buffy clasped his hand supportively. "And they all will forgive you."

"Like you?" he caressed her face.

"There is nothing I needed to forgive. I know it wasn't you, and that's all that matters to me," she smiled, "I'm so glad it's over, Angel." She fell on his chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly, silently letting her tears out in the safety of his arms. "I'm just so glad I have my husband back. I missed you so much," she looked up at him, cupping his face in her hands, "I missed my Angel. I never want to miss him again," she hugged him, snuggling on his chest.

He hugged her back, stroking her hair gently.

"I love you," he heard amid her sobs.

Angel grinned. "I love you too." He couldn't explain that perception, but somehow it felt like these words had been kept inside of him for far too long.

Part Forty-Seven

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"Better?" Buffy asked, while drawing the now almost empty cup of tea away from Angel's lips.

He nodded, offering her a feeble smile, as he lay back on the puffy pillows and closed his eyes.

She put the cup away and felt his forehead with her lips. "You seem to be getting better," she observed.

"I am," he assured, but without opening his eyes. "I only…I feel somewhat…sick."

Buffy bent down, and gently kissed his cheek. "There's a rumor going all through the house, you know?" she said, hints of smile in her voice.

"What about?"

"About your possession being over," she grinned, looking up at him.

Angel opened one eye in surprise. "I was possessed?"

"Seems like it."

"Have they also mentioned WHAT was I possessed with?" he wondered.

Buffy considered it for a second, pretending, like him, to take it seriously. "You're right. Maybe, I should have asked."

He let out a short strained laugh, wincing slightly due to that.

Her hand gently caressed all over his face, brushing away damp strands of hair. "I just want you to get better. I wish I could just give you my blood again, and..." she sighed, chuckling bitterly. "I want to put it all behind us, I want it all to be over."

Angel pulled one of her hands to his lips and gently kissed it. "It will be, my love. Soon. I promise," he coughed shortly after finishing the sentence, then looked back into her worried eyes. "I will be fine," he assured with a smile.

Buffy sighed and reposed her head on his shoulder. "You're awake now," she sighed. "It lifted stone number one off of my chest. The past few days...they were Hell. Literally. It brought everything back from..." she breathed deeply and swallowed. "You know, when they say 'history repeats itself', they mean that it will repeat itself in the future...not in the past...right?"

Angel didn't answer.

Buffy frowned a bit. "Honey?" she peered at him. "Is something wrong?"

He turned his head to kiss her forehead. "Perhaps, you should go."

She started, sitting up, a part of her couldn't believe he'd just said that. "You want me to go?"

"Yes. I do not want to endanger you, and being around me does exactly that. I can infect you…"

"I'm a Slayer," she smiled, "I think you could give me a little more credit."

"No," Angel shook his head determinedly. "You cannot be here. You must not."

"Why?"

"I do not want you to be sick because of me," he pulled the blanket over his shoulders and rotated with his back facing her, "mainly not now."

Buffy put her hand on his shoulder, but he still didn't turn back. "Angel…"

"I cannot risk our baby," he told her directly. *I have done it enough already…*

Buffy flinched in surprise, pulling her hand from him. It took her a while to regain control over her voice. "How…"

"I heard…her," he replied, still with his back to her.

Buffy sighed, and returned her hand on his shoulder. "Honey…you have to know this. Listen to me, alright? It wasn't your fault. Nothing of what happened was your fault."

"Buffy, please. Only once, do what I tell you," his voice possessed a somewhat desperate hint. "Please, leave. It is only for your…"

"Stop. Just stop, right now," she would obviously have none of his excuses. "You're my husband, and your sick. I WANT to take care of you when your sick, it's really the first time I hear I need a permission to do that. Angel, just for the record, incase you don't know, I've been by your side pretty much full time ever since I brought you home, and as you can see, I'm in perfect health, so drop it. I found you in a…terrible shape. You were barely conscious, and you'd been outside in a squall for maybe over an hour before I found you. You REALLY should have seen yourself then. Then you were lying with fever for days, in which I was scared I would lose you, so just imagine how you were, and right now, even though you're much better, it's nowhere near being over. And I'm NOT letting anyone but me to take care of you, so you can just forget it straight away."

"Please," he groaned, "Buffy, please…just go. I do not need being taken care of…"

"Why? Cuz you had your moment of strength this morning?" she folded her arms on her chest, even though the only thing that could see it was Angel's back. "If you ask me, you should have saved that strength."

There was a silence for a few moments.

"Buffy, I…" he let out a cough, "I do not deserve…"

"Oh, so THAT'S it!" she exclaimed. "We're back right to where we left of. Well, hear this, darling," the tone of her voice was resolved this time, leaving no room for discussion, "you, listen to me now. You've just picked at the wrong person. If there's anyone in this world who knows how to deal with YOUR little guilt-trips, that would be me. My exciting resume contains three years of doing exactly that. That's a lot of experience. There's NOTHING you can ever say, or do, that will surprise me, cuz I pretty much know EVERYTHING you can blame yourself for, what happened, when it happened, how and why. And now, here's what I'm saying. You'll keep quiet, and do what I tell you. I'm NOT leaving you here to rot because your highness doesn't feel worthy of my attention…I'm sorry, of ANYONE'S attention…" "Buffy…" he coughed again, this time, more heavily.

"It LOOKS like you're just gonna have to bear with me. Now, DON'T move. I'm going to get you some more tea." With that, she strode out of the room, not waiting for a response from her husband, who hadn't even looked at her once.

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As she'd expected, when she returned, Buffy found the bedroom door locked from the inside. She groaned, rolling her eyes, but inwardly smiled. "Angel," she tried to reach him through the door.

"Leave," followed his reply, in a hoarse voice.

"Open the door," she persisted.

This time, no reply came.

"Fine," she beamed sweetly, walking away.

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"You know, you really should lock ALL of the doors next time you're trying to keep me out of the room," she started, while entering the bedroom through another door.

Angel pretended he hadn't even heard her come in, and remained lying silently in bed.

"What, you're not talking to me now?" she inquired, nearing him with a cup of tea in her hand.

He still didn't answer, just sat up, coughing heavily.

"Drink it," she sat down on the bed, careful not to spill the hot liquid, and held the cup in front of him. "Drink all of it, come on."

He didn't seem to obey right away though.

"Please," her voice was pleading, and he could almost perceive tears in her eyes when he gazed at her.

Angel sighed, and took the tea from her.

"Small gulps, honey," she instructed him, rubbing his back in the process.

After he'd emptied the cup, he lay back down, and Buffy covered him, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. "God, I could stake her ten more times just for that," she grumbled, then sat up straight, gazing down on him. "You still want me to go?"

"Yes."

"God, you're stubborn!" Buffy exclaimed. "You're unbelievable." Then she softened, and peered down at him tenderly, stroking his face. "Angel, you know, I'm not leaving."

"And you call me stubborn?" he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Buffy grinned. "You did learn from the best." She lay down next to him, and took his hands in hers. "You'll have to learn to endure me, buddy, cuz I'm not going anywhere."

Angel smiled feebly to himself. "Truth is," he swallowed hard, "I never thought you would."

"That's why you tried to lock yourself in the room?"

He sighed. "Why do you want to be here? Why are you here?"

She smiled, gazing at his pale features. "Because I love you?"

"Do you? Do you, still?" he wanted to know.

"I do always," she brushed a tender hand over his face, and kissed his lips gently.

"You cannot," he protested, "after everything I have done to you…"

"I thought we've had that part covered this morning," she cut in.

He opened his eyes and concentrated on her face. "I caused you to…to…my own wife…you were scared to death of me."

"No…" *I wasn't afraid of you...I was afraid of what you could become,* she wanted to say, but in the same time knew she wouldn't.

"You were. I terrified you. So much, you…you could not even share the news of our child with me, so much you…you wanted to send away our son."

"What? How…"

"I know why Ilana was here, I am not that stupid. I cannot believe…what I have done to you…how can you stand me after this?"

Buffy peered at him for a long moment. "I love you," she finally said. "I love you so very very much. It wasn't your fault, Angel, it was never your fault. You weren't in control then, not really. You saved my life…"

"It does not amend for…"

"YOU SAVED MY LIFE. You saved mine, and the baby's life too, and Daniel's. Do you even know that? And you did that by staking Darla. Even if just for one second, but you regained control over your body and mind, you pulled yourself together, and you saved all of our lives in that one second. If that doesn't indicate on an incredibly strong character, so what does?"

"I almost lost you," his voice cracked, as he reached a shaky hand to her face and held it there. "I was so close…to lose you, to lose everything."

"But you lost nothing," she beamed, clasping his hand, "and you never will. There is nothing you can do to ever make me stop loving you, and you should know that by now. I would always stand by you, Angel," she looked up, and tenderly wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, "no matter what you do. Always."

"Even after I hurt you…so much…I shouted at you, I humiliated you, I…I raised a hand on you, I dared to…I hit you," his voice cracked again.

"Always," Buffy whispered, gently brushing her lips over his, "that's the whole point."

"I cannot allow you to forgive me."

"You're right. You can't. Because it isn't your decision to make. It's mine. And I already forgave you, because there was nothing to forgive. Angel, you didn't…"

"I hurt you," he didn't let her finish. "I loved you so much, and still…I hurt you…so much."

Buffy sighed, realizing this specific talk needed to be rescheduled, because he certainly wasn't in the state to hear out reason. "Sleep now, honey," she told him softly, kissing his cheek. "Just go to sleep. It will be a long, peaceful sleep, I promise you. And I'll be here the entire time, and I'll be here when you wake up, and then, when you'll feel better, we'll talk. But now, I just want you to rest. Go to sleep," she smiled, nestling in his arms. "Nothing will hurt you this time, I swear."

Part Forty-Eight

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"Rise and shine, honey," Buffy announced cheerfully on her way to a window to pull the draperies open. "Bad idea," she realized, seeing the wild raindrops smacking against the glass. Instead, she walked back to the bed and sat down. She folded her arms on Angel's shoulder, leaning her chin on them.

"Wake up," she whispered in his ear.

"No," he replied quietly, not opening his eyes.

"Wrong answer," Buffy drew back, sitting up, then took his both hands in hers and pulled him up to a sitting position.

Angel pulled his hands from hers, and rubbed his eyes. "I am not going anywhere," he informed, and lay back down, but didn't close his eyes.

She sighed, and stroked his cheek tenderly with her knuckles. "You know you won't be able to stay here for the rest of your life," she observed softly.

"Yes, I will," he objected steadfastly.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," she smiled, then pulled at his hand. "Come on, get up."

"I will NOT go downstairs," he persisted, pulling his hand back.

"Why?" Buffy sighed.

"You know why."

"I know it's nonsense," his wife told him, and pulled him up again before he could protest.

"It is, for you," Angel whispered, attempting to lie back down, but she firmly held on to his arm.

"Honey," she turned his face so he would look directly at her, "I understand you, better than you think..."

"Do you?" he gave her a look. "If you did, you would not…"

"It's BECAUSE I understand you, that I want you to do this. Angel," she took a deep breath, taking his both hands in hers, "whether you like it or not, but fact remains you CAN'T live your life locked up in this room. Sooner or later, you WILL have to go out and face everyone and everything, and the selfish part of me would like for this to happen before the turning of the century," she grinned feebly.

Angel gazed at her for a while, not saying anything. "I cannot do it, Buffy," he said, his voice so quiet her ears hardly picked it up.

"Yes, you can," she squeezed his hand, then reached up to cup his cheek with her palm. "Did you honestly think, for ONE second, that I would leave you alone?"

"You should have left me alone months ago," he turned away from her. "They all should have."

"Stop that!" Buffy insisted sternly. "Angel," she spoke this time in a much calmer voice, "no one hates you, do you understand me? No one. Most of the servants have probably forgotten all about it…"

Her husband shot her a look.

"And moreover, they all think you were possessed, now, they think your possession is over, hence you're back to your normal self. NO ONE holds it against you, I assure you. I won't allow this, do you understand me?" she cupped his face gently. "I gathered the household yesterday, and I laid it clear before them that they had two choices. It's either leave, if they have issues with continuing working here, under your command, or stay, only if they leave everything that happened in the past, where it should remain. NO ONE left, Angel," she beamed, "no one. They all stayed. Doesn't it mean something?"

He gulped, then licked his abruptly dry lips. "I am scared," he admitted before her.

Buffy reached out and tightly hugged him. "I know," she murmured in his neck, "but I'm here. I'm always here, no matter what."

"Thank you," he whispered, holding her closer to him.

"You know," she pulled away from him, smiling slightly, "I've just remembered I have something for you." She stood up, pacing over to the door. "I'll be back in a second."

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"Hey, daddy," she smiled, after a few minutes entering the room with Daniel in her arms.

Angel stood up from the bed, already dressed in a white blouse and a pair of black slacks, his eyes never moving from the baby, beholding him with a mixture of awe and pain.

Buffy beamed, approaching him with their son.

He hesitated for a spell, then opened his arms for him, but when Buffy tried to pass Daniel over to his father, the infant started crying.

"God," at first, Angel was almost knocked off his feet by a force he wasn't aware of. He made a step back, then blinked with confusion, then shook his head helplessly. "This is not happening," he stumbled backwards until he hit the bed, and perched down on it, burying his face in his hands.

Buffy bit her lip, and nestled her son within the crook of her right arm, resting his head on her shoulder and slightly rocking him until he stopped crying. Then she stretched out her free hand, and reposed it on Angel's shoulder, but he jerked away from her touch, and gazed up at her with teary eyes.

"My own son…is afraid of me," he slowly uttered each word, as if trying himself to absorb the horrible meaning of that statement. "My son hates me."

Buffy sat down next to him, but he moved away.

She enveloped her left arm around his shoulders, pulling him to her, until he gave in and reposed his head on her shoulder. "He's not afraid of you," she tenderly kissed his forehead, "he's just…he's confused."

Angel merely swallowed, not saying anything.

Buffy lifted Daniel and slowly passed him over to his father, and this time, the baby remained silent. "See?" she beamed, Angel gently cradled his son in his arms, pressing him to his chest, and placed a kiss on his little head, later laying his cheek against it.

"I am sorry," he whispered to him.

Buffy kissed Angel's cheek, and snuggled in the crook of his right arm when he opened it for her. "I love you so much," she voiced softly.

"Thank you," he swallowed, then locked eyes with her, "thank you for staying. I do not know what I would have done, had you not forgiven me."

"Well, then it's lucky for both of us you don't have to face this alternative, right?" she beamed, focusing her gaze on his eyes, when her expression abruptly turned solemn. Buffy swallowed hard.

"Is something wrong?" her husband inquired instantly.

She inhaled a deep breath and her lips slightly parted, as if to utter words which never came, because all she did was to take Daniel from his father and put him into his crib.

Angel sat speechless for a while, not completely sure if he should react, and in case he should, how? "What have I done?" was all he could ask.

His wife returned to the bed and sat down next to him, taking his hands in hers, by that making him fully face her. "GOD, it REALLY isn't the time for this," she muttered, but unfortunately, not quietly enough.

He pulled his hands away and jerked backwards. "I HAVE done something," he stated now, "what was it?" his gaze verged utter despair when he looked at her while asking that question.

"You haven't done anything..."

"I have. What was it?" he insisted.

"Angel, calm down, please," she touched his hand, gently stroking the upside of his palm with her thumb, "I just wanna talk to you...'want' isn't exactly the word I would use, actually," she murmured, then gazed up at him. "I NEED to talk to you."

He nodded. "What about?"

Buffy gulped. He was in his self-blaming stage now, knowing him, justly following what he had inflicted upon her and many others while having been under Darla's control. THIS particular conversation had to be postponed, and if she could, it would have been postponed for the rest of their lives, but altogether with that...it had to be carried out. She knew it had to be, and its repercussions were something she would have to cope later. It was, in ANY sense, the LAST thing he needed her to tell him right now, but she didn't have a choice. He needed to know, and though the timing couldn't possibly be more lousy, sooner rather than later.

"Sweetheart," she gazed at him tenderly, "I'm gonna tell you some things now. I'm sorry, but I have to tell them. I'm sorry, because these are not things you're gonna like," she sighed, momentarily casting her eyes to the floor. "On second thought, neither am I."

He frowned at first, then nodded. "Is it...about us?" the tone of his voice prompted her he was fearing the worst.

Buffy reflected upon it for a moment, then replied. "In a sense, it is."

"In what sense?" he wanted to know, sounding almost demanding. "Buffy, you must understand, I never expected you to forgive me. I...I cannot forgive myself. But...but you promised me you would give me another chance..."

"NOT in this sense," she cut him, a reassuring smile playing in the corners of her mouth.

"It is not about what happened?"

"It is," she confessed, "only NOT in the sense you think. There are several aspects to...this. Angel," she looked directly into his eyes, "I love you...very much. Regardless to everything I'm about to tell you, I love you. Nothing ever did, and nothing ever will change that, this is what I need you to know. What I'm going to tell you will be very hard for you to accept, but...as I said, I have no choice. Neither do you.You have to know, and I have to be the one to tell you. NOT only because I'm the only one who knows, but...because I have too be the one to do it. There are things you wouldn't understand, things you'd wish had never happened, and technically, they never did, but...you'll know what I mean after I tell you. It'll change you as a person, Angel, or...I think it will, and I hope it won't...but at least, you lack the visuals this time, which is...GOD," she covered her face with her hands for a moment, and smoothed her hair back in frustration. Then she took his hands in hers again. "I'm always there for you, I need you to remember that too. For whatever you need, I'm there. You can always come to me. Alright?"

Angel nodded, and swallowed hard. "Please...just tell me?"

"Okay," Buffy moistened her lips. "Is there anything you remember from these weeks you...weren't yourself? I'm not referring to what you did, I'm referring to WHY you did it. And tell me the whole truth, Angel, don't spare me."

"Nothing," her husband shook his head with slight confusion. "I cannot recall a single thing, I swear to you."

"From the nightmares you used to have...not a single thing? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You have no idea what drove you to do the things you did?"

"No," he gulped, already knowing he was about to find out, and what's worse, he wasn't going to enjoy a second of it.

Abruptly, his wife pulled him to her, briefly kissing his temple, before resting his head on her chest. While her one arm was secured around him, and the other holding tightly into his, she sighed. "Then I obviously have a long story to tell you..."

Part Forty-Nine

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"Daddy doesn't spend that much time with you anymore, does he?" Buffy picked up her crying son from his crib, gingerly shifting him in from one shoulder to another and rocking him back into sleep. She herself had drowsed off an hour ago, and the baby seemed to have been crying for at least five minutes before it had woken her up. Normally, her husband would respond to his cries, but he obviously hadn't, and none of the servants had heard him as well.

Still rocking the infant, Buffy stopped by one of the windows in the bedroom and gazed outside. She was just in time to catch the approaching form of her husband on the back of his horse. *No wonder he wasn't here,* she realized bitterly, and would have looked away, if her sharp vision hadn't caught the fact that his left sleeve was tattered and stained in what seemed to be blood.

With Daniel still in her arms, she ran downstairs.

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Buffy halted in the entry to the lounge, where she knew she would find him, inhaled a deep breath to collect herself, and as casually as she could, strolled into the room, advancing in his direction.

The moment he became aware of her presence, Angel looked up from his wounded arm. A glimpse of pain flashed in his brown eyes to the sight of his wife and he grimaced, swiftly turning away his gaze. She was too painfully beautiful to look at, and her warmth too inviting to be around her and not give in. He had always seen her in that light, the only difference was that now he was forcing himself to resist her. And the vision of her with their son in her arms and the love and concern in her eyes, only made that task million times harder, if such thing was possible. He stood up, intending to disappear from that room as fast as his legs could carry him.

"What happened to you?" Buffy asked, and her voice caused him to stop in his wake.

Angel groaned. "I fell off my horse," he replied eventually. "It was my fault, I should have paid more attention to where I was riding."

Her gaze widened behind his back. "What?!"

He groaned again, with more irritation this time, which made them both flinch. "I fell off horses before, it is nothing. I only hurt my arm," he said, without turning to face her even once. The instant the last word escaped his lips, he resumed his walk.

"Wait!" she yelled after him, but he was already gone. She didn't even reflect upon the possibility of going after him, knowing he didn't want to see her anyway. Instead, she just perched down in the nearest armchair, leaning her back on the cushions, and closed her eyes tiredly.

"Are you alright, My Lady?" she heard a voice asking, and rotated her head to where it came from.

Her eyes fell on Thomas. She peered at him with puzzlement for several minutes, as if not entirely confident it was really him.

"My Lady?" he asked again, with more concern this time.

Buffy inhaled a deep breath, pulling herself together. Forcing a smile, she replied. "Yes."

As expected, he didn't fall for that. Another servant walked into the room, but before Buffy could descry him, Thomas already waved him away. He faced his mistress again. "Perhaps...I may be of some assistance to you?" he suggested. "If you told me what was the matter?"

But she only shook her head, standing up. "Excuse me," she mumbled, while walking past him, on her way out of the room, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand that wasn't supporting her son.

He curtsied, but before he could straighten up completely, she turned around, meeting his gaze.

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"And he hasn't talked to me ever since. In fact, he's pretty much been avoiding me like fire," Buffy summed up everything she'd been telling Thomas for the last ten minutes they had been strolling through the rows of bare trees in the once flowering garden.

"Because you revealed to him a secret from HIS past he did not know?" he wasn't quite following her.

*More like 'his future',* she mused. "Yes."

"Forgive me for prying, My Lady..."

"PLEASE, call me by my first name while you're talking to me?" she requested.

He grinned feebly and cleared his throat. "Buffy. Are you certain it is indeed the only reason? I do not presume to know what the secret was about, but it is rather unlikely for him to behave the way he does merely due to that."

"You're right," she nodded, "you don't know. And it IS the only reason, because I can't think of ANYTHING else. When I told him, I...well, I won't lie to you and tell you I didn't expect for it to change him...to a certain extent," she faltered at the elder man's abrupt change of expression and reiterated. "NOT change him, just...affect him. I...I can't even explain what I mean, because I'm not sure..." she moaned. "All I know is that what I got wasn't what I expected."

"May I ask you something?" Thomas inquired, after giving the subject some thought.

"Of course," Buffy nodded.

"What was this secret?"

The blonde opened her mouth to answer, although not quite knowing what she could say to him, seeing Thomas knew absolutely nothing about her origin, or the potential future of her husband. For the first time, she really regretted having never told him. It would have been so much easier to talk to him now, had he known the entire truth. And naturally, he knew nothing about the reason to what had happened to her husband. "It's...I can't tell you," she looked down in mortification. "If I tell you that, you'll have tones of questions, and you should, but these questions will force me to tell you a lot of other things, the kind you won't be able to understand...because no one can. Maybe one day I'll tell you, I don't know yet. But right now, I know I can't. I'm sorry," Buffy peered him in the eyes melancholically, "you know that I trust you, me not trusting you isn't the reason I..." she took a deep breath, "these are things that...I just can't tell. I'm sorry."

He nodded, then smiled, putting his hand on her arm in a supportive gesture. "I understand. We would have not been human, had we not had secrets. We all have them, only...some are more powerful than others, it seems," he gave her a knowing look. "You must know, however, that if you ever feel ready to tell me, I will be here. For now...I have one more question. May I?"

She nodded.

"Does this secret has anything to do with...what happened?"

Buffy considered it for a moment, then nodded again.

"I see," Thomas nodded too, "I thought it did. It has to do with the reason...does it not?" he asked knowingly.

"It does," she confirmed. "But you already know the reason, don't you?"

"I know what the servants have been saying," he shrugged.

"Do you also believe what they've been saying?"

"No, My Lady," he grinned impishly, "Buffy. They say he was possessed by some evil spirit."

"And you don't believe in possession?" she asked, with a hint of wonder in her voice.

"Oh, I believe in possession. And I also know it was not a case of one."

"And you're right," Buffy revealed, her eyes gazing forward instead of at her companion. "It was something much worse."

"I reckon he forgot whatever it was that had driven him towards insanity though. Yet, you reminded. Why?" the old man's eyes reflected he really had no idea why she would do anything like that. To say he had been relieved when the man he loved like a son had recovered from whatever had happened to him, was an understatement. It had nearly destroyed him, his wife, their family and everyone else he had any relation to. Needles to say that they all had literally started from blank after it had been over. He could see no reason for her, who seemed to have suffered the most from all this, to evoke whatever had originally caused all this pain and confusion.

"I had my reasons," Buffy replied, a bit too quickly. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "I had my reasons, Thomas. If I hadn't told him, the entire thing would have repeated itself. Chances are it will never repeat itself, but at least now, I know that if it ever does, its effect on him will be much smaller. I don't keep secrets from my husband, Thomas, I never did, I swear, except for this one. I hadn't told him only because I hadn't wanted to hurt him, but...when it happened, I realized I hurt him so much instead. I caused him so much pain, a pain that at least some of which could have been avoided, had I only been completely honest with him."

"I cannot believe that," the butler shook his head.

"I'm not saying directly, Thomas. Not directly, but...it was my fault. He trusted me wholeheartedly, and I betrayed him."

"By not telling him a secret?"

"Yes. You couldn't put it better than saying you didn't know what that secret was. I knew it would affect our lives, that it would affect him. But I swear I never wanted to hurt him, I swear," a sob escaped her lips when she finished her sentence, just as her trembling hands clutched the fabric of her cloak until her knuckles paled.

"I know that," he assured her with a smile. "You would never do anything to hurt him. He knows it too."

Buffy wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "He behaves like...God, what am I saying?! You KNOW how he behaves around me!" she exclaimed. "Just before, he dashed from a room the second I set my foot in it! He hates me, he despises me! And you know what's really horrible? He has every right to. I should have told him. He expected me to be honest with him, all the time, and the first chance I got, I betrayed that trust!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air in defeat. "I betrayed him, my husband, of all the people I could stab in the back, I did it to him!"

Thomas halted his walk and opened his arms for her. Buffy complied and stepped into his comforting embrace, already then knowing it wouldn't make anything better. "Calm down, child," he whisper to her softly, holding her close. "Whatever you did to him, I am certain it was not as terrible as you think, and whatever it was, he will forgive you. Not right away, perhaps, but he must. He loves you too much." He pulled away slightly. "You know that, right?"

She peered at him, eventually casting down her tearful orbs and biting her lip. "Not anymore," she whispered, while her fingers were nervously toying with the wedding ring on her left hand.

Part Fifty

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"Who is it?" Buffy inquired indifferently, after she had heard a knock on the door of the bedroom.

There was a pause, then a familiar voice answered her. "Me."

She felt an instant lump forming in her throat as tears threatened to overcome. She took a deep breath and tightened the blanket around her and the small child who was slumbering on her chest, fixing her gaze on the light snow outside the window she was seating by, instead of on the door. "Come in," she let out, just before her voice croaked.

He entered the room, slowly shutting the door behind him, also doing everything in his power to prevent their gazes from coming across each other. He made several steps until he reached the large bed and perched down on it, not even thinking about nearing the window. His eyes bore into the carpet, and his lips were sealed, as if awaiting for her to make the first move.

She did. And when she did, she astonished herself, first and foremost, with the fact that almost all traces of tears were gone from her voice. "You know, I maybe don't exist for you anymore, but I'm still your wife," she remarked, gazing longingly out of the window, "so there's no need to knock on the door if you wanna come in."

Angel gulped. What he said next was completely off-topic. "You should not be sitting there," his voice was barely above whisper.

But she picked it up. "Where?"

"It is cold there," he didn't even answer her question, but lifted his eyes from the carpet to look in her direction, knowing he wouldn't meet hers anyway.

She sniffled, her eyes still peering outside, mostly because the threatening tears suddenly did become a problem. "Well, it just happens that you made it clear more than once I'm no longer your business. So you mind if we just stick to it?"

"I never said it," he cast his eyes back to the floor.

"No, you never did," she acknowledged, rapidly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "But sometimes words aren't exactly necessary, are they?" she wrapped herself more in the blanket, in a dull attempt to protect himself from his presence.

"I never even implied..."

"Alright," she faced him for the first time, as she curtly uttered the word. "You never did, it's just my imagination, WHAT was I thinking?! You'd better have a darn good reason for avoiding breathing the same air with me for the past couple of days, if I'm that wrong!"

"Buffy..." his voice sounded pleading.

"What, Buffy? You don't talk to me, you don't seat with me, you don't walk with me, you don't eat with me, you don't stay in the same room with me, you don't SLEEP in the same bed with me!" she said it all in one breath and had tears in her eyes by the time she was done. "Do I repulse you?" she inquired softly, her voice rapidly giving in to sobs.

Angel's head shot up, to meet her tearful gaze, as she stood up from the windowsill, making a few steps towards him.

"Do you hate me? Or is it that you just don't love me anymore? Is it your way of punishing me? Whatever it is, can you just PLEASE say it? Please?"

"I love you," he promised her, standing up himself.

"Some love it is, then," she mocked, returning to her former seat and facing the window.

"I cannot lose you," he went on.

"THIS is the worst thing you EVER told me!" she spat at him.

"Buffy," he reached her with a few strides and reposed a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" she cried, shaking his hand off of her. "You don't wanna lose me?! THAT'S why I'm here?!"

"I love you," Angel squatted next to her and looked up. "I cannot lose you because I love you..."

"You forgot the meaning of that word," she muttered, jerking away from him again.

"Listen to me, please!" he stood up, by that making her look up. "I am trying to explain..."

"Better be a good one."

He stood up, hesitantly occupying the empty spot on the windowsill, next to where Buffy's feet were. She pulled her legs closer to her chest, tightening her arms around their son. "I do not know...what I feel right now..."

"Now? What about yesterday? What about two days ago? What about ever since the moment I reached 'the end' in my little tale and you stormed out of the door and wouldn't look at me ever since? I figured your hours-long horseback ridings would clear your head by NOW, since talking to me was clearly out of the question. Speaking of which, maybe you should go on one of those right now, it'll save us both the heartache." That minute, she closed her eyes, wincing.

Her husband panicked instantly. "What was it? What happened?" He reached his hand for her, but she recoiled, removing one of her palms from her son's back and placing it on her abdomen, inhaling a deep breath.

"I'm stressed, I'm upset, I shouldn't be. Obviously, the baby doesn't like it," she replied to his earlier question, sounding a lot angrier than she had intended.

Angel pulled back, and nodded, then stood up. "Forgive me," he mumbled under his breath, while leaving the room.

She didn't say anything. After a couple of minutes, her tearful eyes followed from the window as his image was rapidly retreating further and further into the forest on the back of a stallion.

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"My Lady," a servant bowed politely when Buffy opened the door into her room. "You called for me?"

"Yes," she nodded, "come in," she motioned with her hand and closed the door behind him. As the man tailed her into the room, she went on. "You're the one my husband put personally responsible for his horse, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded.

"I see," she observed. "If he left approximately an hour ago, when do you think he'll be back?"

"In a couple of hours, I presume," the servant replied.

"I see," she looked up at him. "In that case, I want you to prepare my horse. I'm going for a ride. Now," she added, when she saw he wasn't about to obey.

"By yourself, My Lady?" he was obviously stalling.

"Is that a crime?" Buffy gave him a look.

"Well...perhaps, in a better weather..."

"Did my husband order you not to let me leave the house?" she picked it up with a knowing grin.

The young man looked down awkwardly. "He requested the Lady to remain indoors while the weather is cold..."

"Well, it's the beginning of Winter, so it's only about to get colder," the blonde interrupted him with a smile, "and you're about to disobey my husband."

He shook his head. "I cannot..."

"I am your mistress, John," she stared at him unequivocally for a long moment, "and you WILL prepare my horse, at once. I'm going for a ride."

John gulped. "Yes, My Lady."

"And another thing," Buffy stopped him before he was about to leave the room. "Where does he normally go? I can look him up by myself, but it'll only take longer," she reminded him.

He peered at her for a moment, saying nothing, then let out a defeated sigh.

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Angel was sitting crouched on a fallen log, when his horse's head suddenly shot up in alarm and he neighed, indicating by that someone was approaching, and Angel really didn't need his horse to tell him who that someone was. He breathed deeply, in the back of his mind pondering escape before she saw him, but knowing it was to no avail, since she would find him eventually anyway. All he could wish for now was for the conversation they were clearly about to have not to result like the previous one. Also, a part of him couldn't help but wonder over what was she doing here in the first place, considering SHE was the one to tell him off the last time they had attempted to talk. Was she going to apologize? Was she the one who needed to apologize? After all, he should have never upset her. Well, either way, in a minute he was about to find out.

Buffy reined her horse to a halt when she approached the place where her husband was, and he instantly stood up, walking up to her to help her down. He hesitated for a second before reaching out his arms, but when she simply wrapped hers around his neck, he encircled her slim waist and gingerly lifted her from the saddle.

"I told them specifically not to let you out," he remarked, letting go of her.

"Hello to you too, and did you also think it would be enough to keep me in?"

Under normal circumstances, he would have smiled, but... "Why are you here?" "Because you tried to talk to me today, and I blew you off. I'd say I owe you an apology," his wife

explained.

"And you could not wait for me to come home?"

"As you see, no," she made one step closer in his direction.

"Alright," he sighed, sitting back down on the log.

Buffy bit her lip, having received not quite the reaction she had expected. She attempted to sit down next to him when he grabbed her arm, receiving a look from her.

"It is frozen," he observed, already knowing what her answer would be.

"It seems to be good enough for you."

Her husband rolled his eyes, burying his face in his palms. "You were never one to listen to other people when they are concerned for you, were you?" he mumbled, then removed his hands and started rising to his feet.

Buffy gently pushed him down, occupying the place on his lap. "You like it better this way?" she asked, smiling mischievously.

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle, encircling his left arm around her waist, while his right one made its way to lay on her abdomen, but in the last second, Angel hesitated, and would have pulled it away if Buffy hadn't reposed it on her belly, holding it there with her own.

Instantly, she felt him ease, and he slowly rested his head on her chest, letting out a sigh.

She kissed his crown, wrapping her free arm around him. "I hate it when we fight," she said.

"We did not fight," he argued.

"Didn't we? Well, then, please! Be so kind to define our current state the way you see fit, because in my dictionary, it fits 'fight'."

Angel chose to remain silent.

Buffy went on, now in a sedated tone. "It's true that...after we'd talked, after I'd told you everything, I was waiting for YOU to make the first move. I waited for you to feel it was the right time to open up. But you never did. You didn't just...NOT open up, but...you pushed me further and further away from you, and..." she looked down into his eyes, tears welling up in her green ones, "you made me feel like I didn't exist for you anymore, like I didn't matter, like I was nothing."

Her husband merely averted his gaze in pain.

"I thought I could deal...you know, that I was okay with letting you cope it your own way, which obviously, didn't include me. But truth is, I never could. It only hurt more with every passing second, and...and when you DID come to me, all that pain suddenly turned into anger, and I took that anger out on you," she explained, as tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, "I'm sorry," she gazed up again, "I expected things to happen after I'd told you the truth, but...I never thought...THIS..."

Angel hushed her by fastening his arms around her, like she were a small child, gently holding her close to him. He breathed in her scent, realizing just how much he'd missed her in his arms, the tingling sensation of her cheek resting against his, the feel of his lips on her skin... "I told you the truth back then in the house," he said, "I do not know what I feel, or what I should be feeling. I do not...know what is right anymore."

"You didn't do any of this, Angel," she looked at him, cupping his chin in her small hand and leveling their gaze. "It's either you, or the future-you...for as long as I remember, I can never convince either one of you, no matter what I say..."

"Buffy, you cannot compare the two of us..."

"Yes, I can. Angel, I know you, EITHER of you, your nature. Both of you blame yourselves for the crimes a DEMON did. Why do you think it matters whether the ensouled version came before or after the demon? Angel," she stroked his cheek, "it's the same soul. It's the same, innocent, beautiful soul. Why am I the only person who sees that?"

He averted his gaze with a soft sigh, but she faced him back.

"The future-you couldn't forgive himself, because the burden of the demon's crimes was too much to bear, and to a certain level, no matter how much I wanted the man I loved to stop hurting, I knew it was inevitable, because his soul would never allow him to forgive himself, or to even contemplate the idea, before he received forgiveness from the victims of Angelus. It was, at least, part of the reason, but it was also a wish that would never come true, because these people were long dead." She squeezed her husband's hand as he flinched at her words and brought it to her lips. "But you never killed anyone. Yes, I told you what happened, what your demon did, but even what I told you isn't enough, because there's practically not a single event I can actually recall happening because he never told me about it to the point of details. So, luckily, neither of us actually knows WHAT crimes did Angelus commit in his days." She turned in his arms, framing his face with her small hands. "Sweetheart, you NEVER killed a living soul. Do you understand me? If I could only know exactly who these people were, we'd go right now and you'd see for yourself how much they all are alive and well." Suddenly, her orbs lit with a smile. "Angel, your family, your sisters, your friends. They are all alive, and they all love you, and none of them condemns you for the demon's crimes. You see?" she swallowed. "They love you...I love you...don't you know that we all need you?"

He crushed her to him, kissing her head. "Forgive me," he pleadingly whispered in her hair, "please, for give me."

"I forgive you. I already forgave you," she promised, snaking her arms around his neck. "Everyone did. We just want you back," she gazed up at him, "we miss you back."

"Do you think I can ever be HIM again? After this?" her husband asked honestly.

Buffy nodded, smiling. "You could never be anyone else. You're my Angel, and there's no one else in the entire world who fits this description. Just you. It's only up to you if you want that old life back, but it's up to me to make sure you get it." She looked up, still beaming. "And I promise it to you. Right here, right now."

Angel's lips curved up in a smile. "I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled back and met his lips in a kiss, "and this is why I can promise you what I just have."

Angel fastened his embrace around her, but instead of giving in like she normally would have, Buffy darted backwards and retrieved a stake from a pocket in her velvet cloak, hurling it directly into something, or rather, someone behind her husband. It all happened so quickly it took Angel a few seconds to realize what hit him.

"You know, it's not the first time they interrupt a very emotional moment," his wife observed, in a completely serene tone, as if she has just sipped from her tea and not staked a vampire. "It must be stopped."

"What...has just happened?" he inquired, after finally regaining the ability to speak.

"I staked a vampire," she explained naturally. "He was stalking us for at least five minutes, so I got bored and did him in."

"Oh," he let out, still adjusting.

"It's Slayer's sixth sense. I know one when I see one, but I was actually waiting for him to make his move, you know, make it interesting, but..."

"May I ask WHY you carry a stake with you even when you go on a ride within the mansion's grounds?" her husband interrupted her with a question.

Buffy frowned, for a moment, saying nothing. "Habit," she replied eventually, not entirely sure why herself. "Besides, I don't think he knew he was trespassing," she grinned, then suddenly frowned.

"Is something wrong?"

She shook the strange sensation off of her. "No, I just..." she trailed off while scanning the area, "nothing's wrong. Ready to go home? I don't know about you, but I and baby-number-two here think that a hot chocolate is in order."

Angel chuckled. "Yes, My Lady." He waited until she rose to her feet, then stood up himself, taking her hand and heading towards their horses. They were about to climb on them, when an unfamiliar voice stopped them.

"Who are you?"

Part Fifty-One

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Buffy stiffened and she and Angel slowly turned around to face the person behind them. She swallowed hard, which instantly brought a protective arm to her shoulders.

Into their view immerged a woman, a year, two at most, younger than Buffy herself. She was a bit taller than Buffy, with a slim figure, and wore a simple dress, as simple as a gown in these days could be. Her long auburn hair was neatly combed away from her face, which wore a hostile expression; an anger mixed with astonishment.

"The same as you," Buffy replied her former question, evenly and confidently, although quietly at the same time.

"Impossible!" the other woman argued, but her voice couldn't convince even herself.

"Slayer," the two uttered the word simultaneously.

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"It is impossible," Colleen, the younger Slayer, was still steadfastly insisting, while she, Angel and Buffy were sitting in the privacy of the couple's bedroom.

"No, believe me, it's very possible," Buffy argued.

"You cannot be a Slayer!"

"Why?"

"Because there cannot be TWO Slayers at the same time! There is ONE Slayer per generation. I was called several months ago, and as you can clearly see, I am still alive. I do not believe you, and I will not, unless you explain me everything."

"You wanna try and take me? Maybe that'll cover the explaining part?" the blonde challenged with a playful grin.

Colleen's eyes widened, and Buffy sighed.

"I'd rather explain it to your Watcher."

"I will not bring my Watcher here!" Colleen objected without hesitation.

"And why might that be?"

"Must you even ask? I do NOT trust you! I do NOT believe you are the Slayer. It is far more likely to believe you are some minion from Hell than a Slayer. What you are saying makes no sense whatsoever. I will NOT bring my Watcher."

Buffy groaned with frustration, rolling her eyes.

Her husband reposed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Darling, calm down, please," he kissed the top of her head. "Miss," he turned to Colleen, "my wife does not lie. She has not a single reason to do so. Moreover, I am quite certain you witnessed the occurrence in the woods earlier this evening. However, you still maintain doubts?" he practically dared her with his eyes, until she was forced to avert her gaze.

Colleen was confused. She didn't know what to think, and where to begin thinking. She knew for certain that petite blonde woman was a Slayer. She had no doubts regarding that, the Slayer's vibes coming from her were way too powerful to be classified as false. And on the other hand...a Slayer with a home? With a family? With a husband? A husband who knew what she was and accepted her regardless? A Slayer who was leading a normal noblewoman's life alongside with hunting vampires at night? A Slayer who wasn't alone, who was loved and mattered? Who was SOMEBODY beyond her calling?... It wasn't possible. As much as she endeavored to understand, it just wouldn't make sense to her.

"I do not...I do not know what to think. Forgive me, I...I do not know how to believe you," she confessed before Buffy. "Everything you tell me...it makes no sense to me whatsoever, no sense at all. I WANT to believe you...but I cannot." Her eyes focused on the blonde Slayer, then darted from her over to her husband.

Buffy sighed, turning to Angel. "Could you bring me some tea, please?" her eyes clearly implied she wanted him to leave them alone.

"Of course," he complied at once and stood up. "Would you care for something as well?" he asked Colleen.

"I shall not be staying much longer," she replied.

He nodded and exited the room.

Colleen's eyes followed his retreating form, as she abruptly wasn't sure him leaving was such a good idea. Although he certainly made her uncomfortable, she wasn't sure she preferred to remain by herself with the second Slayer. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what made her so uncomfortable about him. Was it the visible bond the couple shared between them? The closure and the love that, being a Slayer, were completely alien to her? Or was it the fact that man was married to a Slayer, hence being in possession of a sacred calling only a few people in the world were privileged to know about? A power he mustn't have? That without a shadow of a doubt made him an enemy...

"Why did you send him away?" she asked the question the second the door was shut behind his back.

"He made you uncomfortable," was the blonde's plain reply, "I figured we could talk better this way."

Colleen nodded, having nothing to say.

"Do you know you're in an enormous mansion, full of people? And yet, you're afraid of me," Buffy observed with a smile. "Why?" she asked. "Let's pretend, for the sake of argument, that I am what you think I am, a vampire, a demon...whatever. Do you honestly think you'd still be alive if I were one of those? And listen to someone who has been the Slayer much longer than you have, when a demon is after the Slayer, and they normally are, if said demon already got the Slayer, it's REALLY unlikely that killing her Watcher will be anywhere in its agenda," she shot the other woman a pointing look.

Colleen nodded again, when Buffy's words, though not entirely lucid to her, hit home.

"I never meant to hurt you," the blonde went on, "and I have nothing against your Watcher. I only want to talk to him."

"Why can you not say it to me and have me pass it on to him?"

"He'll understand things you won't," Buffy replied simply, seeing no need to dwell on it any further.

Surprisingly, Colleen didn't argue.

"I need you to trust me. It'll never work unless you trust me. I understand it's hard to..."

"How can you possibly understand?" the younger woman interrupted her. "I suddenly find out there is a SECOND Slayer, when I am supposed to be the only one!" she exclaimed.

"There is no second Slayer."

That sentence left Colleen even more perplexed, if that was possible. "But you said..."

"This is what I want to explain to your Watcher. All you need to know is that I'm NOT a second Slayer. I'm not here to take your place, I'm not here to hurt you and I'm certainly not here to scare you. My husband and I will be expecting you and your Watcher tomorrow evening in our house. If you feel you should bring people with you, do so, but I should tell you I'd rather to only talk to the two of you. I hope to see you tomorrow," she stood up, and Colleen did the same.

"I cannot promise you anything," she told Buffy while the two were heading to the door.

"I know," was the blonde's simple reply.

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"The second Slayer," Buffy mused, while she and Angel were lying in bed later that night, "could you believe it? I knew what she was, you know? Remember when you asked me what was wrong after I had staked that vampire cuz I had this strange look in my eyes and I told you that nothing? That was when I first felt her presence. She's my sister-Slayer. We share a bond, and I dismissed it at first because I completely forgot what it felt like."

"It is remarkable, I must say," he admitted. "I never thought I would meet another Slayer. In fact, I never thought I would meet any Slayers up until about two years ago," he grinned, softly kissing her temple.

She smiled. "Well, lucky you, then. Speaking of which, there's a lot of explaining expected from our side tomorrow, you know that, don't you? Even without the big question, which is what the Hell am I, there's the second big question, which is, who the Hell are YOU, knowing everything about me?"

"Is it really such a problem?"

She lifted her head from his chest to gaze up at him. "Oh no, it's just something you can be killed for."

Angel frowned.

She exhaled, laying her head back on his chest and embracing him tightly. "Maybe I'm exaggerating...I hope I am, that is. Thing is that a Slayer is...it's a big deal. It's a much bigger deal than you think. It's this huge secret that...the calling pretty much robs the girl from her life. Being the Slayer...the handbook's definition of 'Slayer' is...that's all you are. You remember what I told you about Kendra?" she briefly looked up again.

"Yes," Angel replied, slowly beginning to understand.

"Well, that's pretty much it. Kendra was THE Slayer. She was everything a real Slayer must be...according to the handbook, that is. And note that Kendra lived in the end of the twentieth century, while we're currently in the late eighteenth. Things are supposed to move forward, you know, to change, and if to take Kendra as a typical example, it's either they didn't, or I REALLY don't wanna know what's the state of the handbook in our days."

"I understand," he cuddled her to him, kissing her forehead, "but it will be alright. Perhaps, it is a good thing."

"How'd you figure that? Even I begin to wish we'd never met Colleen in the first place. And her Watcher...God, I've never missed Giles the way I do now. The Watcher's Council has ALWAYS been my number-one enemy, worse than ANY demon, trust me. God, Angel," she gazed up at him with frantic orbs, "do you realize what a terrible mistake I've made? Do you realize what it means?!"

"My love, you cannot possibly know," he cupped her face in his hands, "perhaps, he is a good man..."

"Who will ACCIDENTALLY snitch on us to the Council!"

"Sweetheart, you cannot know that. The only thing I am sorry about is that this entire situation upsets you."

"Angel, the ONLY thing that can 'upset' me, in your sense of the word, is the person I'm talking to right now," she grinned slightly, "and I only meant it in the good way." She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose, still grinning. "And YOU don't upset me anymore. And if I have anything at all to do with it, in a very little while, you won't upset yourself either."

He sighed heavily as she reposed her head on his chest.

"I want to make it official," she whispered, smiling, "only exclude the Champaign, I can't drink. The beginning of our new lives together, starting now, with putting every bad thing behind us. You think we can do that?" she looked up. "The past few months were Hell, Angel, I can't bear the thought of the rest of our lives resembling them. Tell me it won't be like that." Her eyes peered at him, demanding an answer.

"I promise you," he whispered after a spell of silence, "I promise you I will do everything I can to put it behind us."

"We both will," Buffy corrected him. "That's the hitch in it, Angel. It isn't only up to you or me, it's up to both of us. I don't wanna sleep alone anymore," she voiced softly, making sure to maintain eye contact through this one sentence.

Angel averted his gaze for a second, taking a deep breath. When he looked back at her, he smiled. "Neither do I, beloved." He pulled her up to seal that promise with a kiss.

Part Fifty-Two

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A tall, elderly man with a solemn expression on his face, paced directly at Buffy and Angel, startling them both, even despite the fact Sir Jacob Wilson and Lady Colleen Ryan's arrival had been announced by Thomas several seconds ago. Angel instantly stood up to shake the man's hand, receiving a rather reserved response from his guest, while Buffy could only stare at him, as a slight chill ran down her spine. He was old, seemingly in his late sixties, thin and tall. His gray hair was neatly combed into a braid and fastened with a dark ribbon, his gear was also dark and formal, even more formal than usual. His entire overly impressive appearance intimidated her a lot more than she could have ever predicted it would. It certainly had been a while since the last time she had stood face-to-face with a member of the Watcher's Council, and the meeting, as far as she could recall, was not at all pleasant. The first thing that sprang to her mind was her eighteenth birthday, and she couldn't help but shudder at the memory. Her subconscious involuntarily searched for even the slightest resemblance to Giles in the Watcher, but found none. As stiff as he might have once appeared to her, it was as nothing as compared to this man. She suddenly found herself longing for the fatherly comfort Giles had about him, seeing as from this Watcher she was receiving nothing but cold. Or maybe she simply was too frightened to allow herself to feel anything but. One thing she knew for sure, however, she had NEVER regretted revealing herself to the Council more than she did now. Instinctively, her small hand tightly clasped Angel's. Her lips released a breath of relief when he gently returned the act.

"You are standing in front of my wife, Sir," she heard her husband's firm voice, "the Lady O'Brien, and while you are in my house, you WILL show her the respect she deserves."

The Watcher held his eyes for a spell, his orbs reflecting he hadn't been too fond of the young man even before meeting him, and being a Watcher, was obviously not used to this kind of bluntness, especially, when it came from a person who still had some questions to answer regarding the absurd knowledge in his possession. Moreover, he hadn't exactly been taught to treat a Slayer any differently from giving orders and expecting an instant obedience. Still, he quickly regained his manners. "My Lady," he kissed her offered hand, bowing a bit, "please, forgive my audacity."

Buffy nodded, gulping.

"I must insist on more privacy," Jacob requested the couple.

"We can talk in the library," the blonde spoke, for the first time since he had arrived in their house, "we will have all the privacy we need in there, I assure you."

"Alright. If you please," he motioned with his hand for the couple to lead the way.

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"Well," Jacob began, after they all had seated in the library, "you claim to be a Slayer."

"I don't claim to be," Buffy corrected him.

"May I demand a proof?" he held her with his eyes.

She was about to answer, when Angel spoke instead. "My wife is pregnant, hence she will not be proving anything."

"The Lady cannot be carrying a child!" the Watcher exclaimed, in a voice of a person who'd just discovered everything he knew was wrong.

"Why not?" Buffy wanted to know.

"A Slayer cannot be pregnant..."

"And you know that how?" she confronted him. "Because no one ever lived long enough to prove you wrong?"

"The matter at hand is that my wife IS pregnant," Angel spoke again, "therefore, your request, Sir, is out of the question, and that is final."

"Sir," Colleen cleared her throat tensely, turning to her Watcher, not at all reminding the bold young woman from the other night. "May I speak?"

He nodded rigidly.

"She staked a vampire before my very eyes, Sir. And it was done with skill and accuracy I have never encountered before." She decided not to bring the Slayer's bond she felt into her argument, considering her Watcher would probably dismiss it, knowing she had never met another Slayer but herself before, so how could she know?

Jacob peered at his Slayer for a while, then faced Buffy. "Alright. There are other ways to convince me you are speaking the truth. Tell me about your Watcher. Perhaps, you will also be kind and explain to me why he decided not to attend this rather significant meeting," he suggested gravely.

"Why my Watcher? What does he have to do with anything?"

"I want to know who he is," the elder man offered no further explanation. "Perhaps, I know him."

"You don't know him," Buffy assured him with a grin. "My Watcher isn't even born yet."

"I beg your pardon?" Jacob's eyes widened with astonishment, as he removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose, polishing the lenses with a handkerchief.

The blonde merely grinned wider. "My Watcher's name was Rupert Giles. He was about twenty years younger than you are, also from England...duh," she rolled her eyes in playful manner. "My Watcher...Giles, he guided me, taught me...not just how to be a better Slayer, but how to be a better person. He was my," she paused momentarily, feeling a gentle hand laying on her arm and grinned thankfully at her husband. "He was my friend, my family, he was a man I trusted with my life, a man who respected me, who loved me like I was his own daughter... One of the things I regret the most about my life is the fact I never showed him just how important he was to me, or at least, told him," she whispered, subconsciously leaning into her husband's embrace, finding there all the comfort she needed.

"It is not possible," Colleen's Watcher responded the newly received information, after taking a few seconds to absorb everything. "It is not a satisfactory relationship between a Slayer and her Watcher. A Watcher is not...family," he uttered the last word with mockery. "A Watcher is to give you orders, which you must carry out instantly and flawlessly. His duty is to make sure you are able to serve your calling as long as possible. What you told me about is not a Watcher."

Buffy glowered at him. "What...WHO I told you about was one of the dearest people in the world to me, and he was zillion times a Watcher you'll EVER be. Sir. Tough luck, I'm not exactly the ordinary Slayer myself. And my Watcher didn't raise me according to the handbook. Probably THAT'S why I got to be the oldest and the strongest Slayer ever."

The Watcher beheld her for a long moment, the expression on his face was grave, other than the indiscernible smile that was concealed in the lucid blue of his orbs. Abruptly, his graveness dissolved into an almost beam. "Buffy," he voiced her name, "a rather odd name for an aristocratic noblewoman. Would you not agree?"

"What is your point?" she asked, her voice wavering a bit towards the end.

The Watcher grinned again, retrieving a pack of papers out of his bag and thoughtfully leafing through them. "Miss. Summers," he mussed, while his eyes were roaming over the pages. He briefly gazed up, catching her stunned gaze before she was able to hide it. "Was it not your surname pre-marriage? Am I correct?"

She could only gape at him.

"Colleen," he addressed his Slayer, without looking up from the sheets before him, "leave us, if you will."

The woman rose to her feet at once, and with a polite curtsy, exited the library.

"You see, Miss. Summers," he spoke to the blonde Slayer now, "in the Council, we all believe in order and organization, first and foremost, for other than that, it is all but details." He glanced between the couple, content seeing they both were listening mindfully. His gaze lingered on Angel, but the young man didn't budge from his seat, wholeheartedly knowing that was exactly what he was expected to do. "These records are highly classified, you understand," Jacob continued, "no Watcher has ever been able to lay his hands on this information, and certainly, no Slayer. It is kept under a strict guard in the Council's archive. However, once my Slayer let me in on the other night's occurrences, I instantly wrote a letter to the Council in Great Britain, requesting these specific documents to be transferred here with no delay, explaining them the entire situation. My messenger rode all night, and only returned less than an hour before our scheduled meeting. I consider myself incredible fortunate to receive them at all. As I said, they are highly classified."

"And what information might that be that it's SO classified, and what does it have to do with me?" Buffy asked him.

"The information in question is a list of Slayers and the Watchers assigned to them. The list is consisted from all the Slayers that were and will be called before the end of this millenium. The Council has its way to obtain information of almost any kind, including the dates when a Slayer dies, or when one is to be called...also, information such as this."

"Oh," the blonde nodded. "Which means...you knew everything all along. What's with the third degree then?" When he seemed to have not understood her, she rephrased. "Why all the questions?"

"I needed to be confident you were indeed speaking the truth. Some details are still a mystery to me, however, and with your help, I hope to understand more of it."

"Do you?" she frowned. "And what is it that you DO know, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Very little, I assure you. By your name, the name of your Watcher, also your accent and certain manners, I know where...and when you come from. However, I do not know how or why. This is what I hope to hear from you. Also, I would greatly appreciate if you told me why you saw fit to let your husband in on the secrecy of your calling."

"A spell went wrong. That should cover the why," Buffy answered his question.

"This is the reason you came here, then?" the Watcher wasn't entirely convinced and didn't even try to feign otherwise.

"You tell me," she dared him, not even thinking about giving in that easily. "If you think for one second I have a reason to lie, why don't you also tell me what that reason is?"

"What I know about you, My Lady, is not exactly impressive."

"And what might that be?"

"I do not know what happened or why it happened, but I DO know you and your Watcher were the first to ever betray the Council."

"Darn," Buffy mocked quietly, with a playfully even expression.

"The future is a mystery to us, as it is to any other man. As I formerly stated, we have not enough details to conclude any facts, yet there are certain things we do know. Treachery is not too good a credential, would you not agree? I presume you and your Watcher had a much sounder reason to do something as critical and hazardous as time-traveling."

Buffy held tightly onto Angel's hand, unable to prevent herself from fearfully glancing into his chocolate orbs. Then she inhaled a deep breath and clenched her fists, glaring at the Watcher. "My Watcher's 'treachery', as you put it, was in saving my life. He chose my life, over a primitive and stupid test and his loyalty to the Council. MY 'treachery' was in putting my lover's life above, again, my loyalty to the Council," she glanced up at her husband, and he returned her a warm gaze, nearing her hand to his lips and tenderly brushing his lips against it. "None of us has ever regretted either of the choices, and DON'T judge us, because as you said, you DON'T have all the facts. I won't tell you anything, because I owe the Council no explanation whatsoever. You can believe whatever you want to believe. Honestly, I don't care. Either you trust what I DO tell you, or you don't. The choice is in your hands."

"I understand," the Englishman nodded, inwardly impressed by that little woman. "But if I may ask one thing, this...man, that you loved...he would be?..."

Buffy glanced at Angel again, and he cast his arm over her shoulders. "Do you have that in your records?" she inquired.

"No..."

"Good," she shrugged, "that just means it doesn't belong there."

"Alright. I agreed not to pry," he remarked, although rather reluctantly, "as long as I believe it does not endanger the Council, I see no reason to." He wrote something down in his notebook before speaking on. "To my next question, then. Who gave you the permission to confide in your husband about your calling?"

"I didn't know permission was required," she observed, with a somewhat sarcastic tone.

"Well...seeing as it is a secretive information you must not tell a living soul, and I shall not even bring into this the absurd of a Slayer running a second life, starting a family, allowing so many other things to distract her from her sacred duty... Yes, I believe, what you have done is somewhat out of the ordinary."

"Sir," Buffy gazed at him sternly, "my husband is the man I love, and trust, completely. I choose to have no secrets from him. My husband knows everything there is to know about me, and naturally, one of these things is my calling as the Slayer."

"Then I presume you are also aware of the risk you put him in by telling him? Whoever knows the Slayer's secret risks death," he stated calmly.

"I dare you," Buffy retorted, folding her arms on her chest.

"I was not even referring to the Council. If they find it fit to...take certain necessary precautions, I shall not be the one to stop them, it is none of my concern. It is my duty as Watcher to inform them of the situation, but I have not yet decided upon that. However, I was referring more to your enemies; vampires, demons... You see, you succeeded in hiding your presence from us for, I assume, a very long period of time, but then my Slayer found you, by that exposing whatever cover you had. It is merely a matter of time until you are discovered by one of them. A vampire who perhaps managed to escape your stake and lived to spread the word? I believe you do know that the ones who are under the utmost danger are the people closest to the Slayer," he glanced at Angel.

Buffy looked at him for a moment, her face blank, then she sighed. "Is it just me, or is there really a suggestion coming up?"

He half-smiled. "I came here with a suggestion to begin with, My Lady. It was the initial reason for me coming. When I received the information from the Council, the first thing I did was to search for your name, supplied by my Slayer. Then, naturally, I needed you to confirm what I had already known. As I told you before," he sighed, "we believe in order. Your presence, however, disturbs that order. You do not belong here as a Slayer. You were not called to be the Slayer of this generation, and you were not assigned a Watcher, I believe we both agree on that." He waited for Buffy to nod before continuing. "As much as I am confident that two Slayers will do better than one, especially if a Slayer is as experienced as you are, there must be ONLY one. We must maintain that order."

"What are you saying?" Buffy questioned, the hints she was receiving from the tone of his voice clearly implied he had nothing good in store, at least, in her opinion.

"A second Slayer is a fault. A mistake must be fixed quickly. There must not be two active Slayers at the same time. What I suggest, what I came here to offer you, is the ultimate solution."

"What kind?"

"How important is your calling to you?" he answered her with a question.

"What?" the blonde frowned.

"Were you a normal Slayer, I would not ask. But you have a life apart from your duty. So, I ask again, how important is this duty to you? I shall rephrase," he cleared his throat. "If I offer you a life without it, will you take it?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, speechless. Abruptly, her lips curved up in a smile and she let out a strained chuckle. "You're kidding me."

"Pardon me?" he scowled.

"You're not serious," she shook her head, "you can't be. A Slayer can't STOP being a Slayer. It's not possible."

"I must dissent. You must know that we gave you this power to begin with. We can just as quickly take it back."

"Can you?" she challenged. "Then how come I had a sister-Slayer in the future and no one took her power away? Which they should have. It could have prevented a lot of damage."

He scanned the papers before him, frowning at the written. "I believe it is...Faith you are referring to," he looked up. "We do not possess precise details, unfortunately, I do not know what happened or why it happened the way it did. I do know, however, that the Watcher's Council does absolutely nothing without a reason. If they chose to keep that other Slayer, they must have had a reason. As blunt as it may appear to you, a Slayer is our property. We created her, and we can...eliminate, if you will, said creation. I do not know what caused them to keep both of you active simultaneously, and I cannot even come to guess what will transpire in over two centuries from now that will drive them to such radical decision. But I do know that I am the Council's highest authority in all of Ireland, and whatever happens here, I must take full responsibility for, and I am more than positive England will approve what I offer you now. If you refuse...well, the Council has no quarrel with you, My Lady. I cannot promise you ultimate safety, but as for now, I see no reason for us to be enemies," he glanced at Angel. "And yet, as I said, seeing you are the Slayer, but not in the service of the Council, we are NOT obliged to provide you any cover, assistance, or protection, assuming you one day require any."

"Is this an ultimatum?" Buffy asked him straight to the point.

"These are facts, My Lady. Although unfortunate, but facts. It is up to you to decide what is best for you. We do not require your services, your calling is a fault. You decide what you want to do with it."

"I was living just fine without having you interfering in my life. Any reason it should change now?"

"I shall not dwell on it, I see no reason to. It is, in fact, rather simple. I am offering you back the normal life you used to have. Now, my question is, do you, or do you not, want it?"

Part Fifty-Three

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"This is what you were talking about last night, isn't it?" Buffy asked Angel, snuggling deeper into his embrace, while fastening his arms around her waist.

He sighed and reclined his chin on her crown, stroking her slightly bulging abdomen. "Yes."

"It was never a problem before," his wife mused, covering his hands with hers. "At least, you never found it necessary to speak out." She whirled in his arms and faced him. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Angel sighed again. "I did not want to hurt you," he explained. "It was important to you, I could not bring myself to tell you I did not approve of it completely."

"Not completely?!" she exclaimed. "Angel, what..."

He put his both hands on her shoulders and peered into her eyes, which instantly silenced her, seeing she knew he wanted to explain. Still, she had something she wanted to tell him first.

"Angel," she began, in a calm and thoughtful voice, "I KNOW what's been bothering you," she gazed up into his eyes.

Her husband inhaled a deep breath and climbed to his feet. He paced over to their king-sized bed and retrieved a woolen shawl, then he walked over to the windows and paused by each one, pulling the draperies over them, leaving the early Winter's blistering cold outside, before he joined his wife again, on the rug by the great fireplace in their bedroom, draping the shawl around her and pulling her to his chest. Buffy complied, and he lowered them both down on the cushions.

She fastened the warm mantle around her and smiled, facing her husband before speaking up again. "I'm not the perfect wife, Angel," she observed, with a slightly sad smile, "it's not exactly a surprise. I know that."

He frowned. "What?"

"Angel, come on, I sometimes think I turned you into the court's jester! Don't tell me you didn't NOTICE that you're the ONLY husband out there who actually...well, in a nutshell, treats his wife as something other than possession."

"You are not my possession," he stroked her arm. "You are nobody's possession but your own."

She grinned bitterly. "See? What you're doing is wrong, Angel. It isn't conventional...isn't seemly to a husband, especially of your station. WE aren't conventional."

"What?" he pulled back a bit, more than just a little thrown by her words.

Buffy crawled up to him and took his hand into hers. She resumed what she was saying, while playing with his fingers. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant..." she groaned, "I don't even know what I meant, just...Angel," she looked up into his soft brown eyes, "the way you treat me, the way I MAKE you treat me, is not acceptable here."

"I treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you do not make me do anything I do not want to do."

"Yes, I do," the blonde smiled. "Honey, I'm not a good wife. Do you know any other wife who dares to speak up? Who dares to WANT? To argue with her husband if she thinks he's wrong, to change things if she doesn't like the way they are? I'm supposed to shut up, and only play the pretty porcelain doll at balls and parties, and these things are statistically impossible for me. Yet, all in all, you put up with what I am, and you do nothing about it, even when I embarrass you in front of pretty much everyone who counts."

He grinned, brushing a hand over the side of her face. "I LOVE you the way you are, and when did you ever embarrass me?"

"Not on purpose, but...the way I behave...and the way you..."

"You think you embarrass me by mattering?" he saw right through her stuttering.

"Yeah. And I do, Angel. People must be thinking..."

"You think I care what they think? YOU taught me to always follow my heart, you taught me to always do what I think is right, and you expect me to care what they think? People will talk about us all the time. They find something out of the ordinary and they gossip about it. They will always gossip about something, sweetheart," he beamed, bringing her hand to his lips and gently kissing it. "My wife is a human being, with feelings, likes, dislikes, and character. She deserves to be treated like a human being, and I honestly do not care if people do not approve of it. It makes my wife happy, and it is all I need to know it is right. I love you precisely because you are different from their dullness...like a breath of fresh air," he smiled, caressing her cheek.

Buffy smiled too, putting her hand on top of his. "I'm too different, Angel. I'm way too different, and here we come back to the reason this conversation took off in the first place, which is me being the Slayer. It makes me independent...TOO independent, it makes me a rebel on some levels, and most importantly, physically, way stronger than you are. It's wrong. It pretty much goes against EVERYTHING conventional."

Her husband took a deep breath, briefly casting his eyes to the floor. "As much as I enjoy being there for you, I am very proud of the fact you can hold your own. You are correct, I will not deny it, you are the complete opposite of the description of the average eighteenth century noblewoman," he chuckled, acknowledging just how right he was, "but as I already said, it is precisely WHY I love you so much. I am glad my wife does not have to constantly depend on me. I like pulling the chair out for you, I like standing up when you leave the table, I like helping you off the horse or out of the carriage, opening the door for you, carrying things for you...doing so many other things, and yes, the only thing to blame for it is indeed my eighteenth century upbringing. But you must know I do NOT do it because I feel you cannot handle any of those things yourself. I do it because I enjoy it. Simple, is it not?" he grinned, peering at her. "I do it out of respect for you. My Lady," he kissed her hand gracefully. "One of the things that bring me the greatest satisfaction is making you feel special. I know I make you feel special when I do those things," he returned Buffy's grin of confirmation, "and in a strange way, I like it...because it makes me feel special too."

"You're special just by existing," she beamed, caressing his face, and languidly running her fingers through his long brown hair.

"And as for you being stronger than I...well," Angel went on, "I swear to you, it does not disturb me half as you think it does. You are a challenge for me. With your strength, you are only more of a challenge. There is more to admire." He kissed her nose, smiling.

Buffy remained serious. "Finish it, Angel. I always knew there was something. I put it off as much as I only could, I didn't want to believe it, because I didn't want to believe that something in me might be disturbing you, but I always knew it was there. We both did." She lifted back his chin when he tried looking down from her. "You told me the other night that maybe us finding this generation's Slayer was good after all, but you never told me what you meant by that. Today, after talking to her Watcher, I finally realized what it was." She implied with her eyes she wanted him to take it from here.

He sighed, somewhat melancholically. "Do not hate me for this," he requested.

"I won't hate you for anything," his wife promised him.

Angel looked up. "I never approved of you being the Slayer," he finally came clean, "not completely, never."

Buffy bit her lip, but clasped his hand in hers, urging him to go on.

"The eighteenth century upbringing you claim to be such a stranger to made me what I am today. I will not deny I am a tad...overprotective...very overprotective," he reluctantly rephrased, inwardly berating himself for not being able to just lay the truth open. "Please, understand, I do not want to hurt you by saying it. I respect your...calling. What you do is of an utmost significance, but...I cannot help but wish you did not have to do it. I cannot help but want a normal wife. I CANNOT sleep at nights, knowing you are somewhere, out there, perhaps in danger, due to said calling," he peered at her painfully, and was grateful when she squeezed his hand. "I constantly worry about you, and I sometimes feel there is nothing I will not do if it stops you from being the Slayer. I cannot stand having you in constant jeopardy, please, understand. I love you...more than life. I cannot even imagine losing you. Every single night you leave...I cannot close my eyes for one second, because I fear you would not return. I cannot help fearing the worst, I cannot lie to you anymore and tell you I am fine with you undertaking these risks. I..." he gulped, "I want to live a long life, a happy life, but in order for that to come true, you must share this life with me. It is the truth. It is all I have to say."

Buffy nodded, not saying anything, then she gazed up. "It is that important to you," she observed.

Angel sighed, pulling her to him, and gently wrapping her in his arms, pressing her back into his chest and covering her stomach with his two hands. "I have a child in there," he told her, planting a kiss in her blond hair. "I have another child sleeping in the crib next to our bed. And I have you. This is ALL I have. This is how important it is to me."

"I love you," she whispered softly, covering his hands with hers.

"I want you to promise me you will at least think about it," he implored. "Consider his offer, I beg you," he lifted her chin and turned her head a bit until she faced him. "At least, consider it."

"I love you," she merely repeated her former words, her voice was barely above whisper, but her husband could detect the slightest trembling in it, so could he detect the sparkle of tears in her eyes before she buried her face in his chest for the night.

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"Well, is there a reason why you insisted on meeting in this hour, My Lady?" Jacob Wilson asked, after he and Buffy had been sitting in the library in silence for about ten minutes. He took his golden watch out of his vest's pocket and glanced at it. The hands showed it was nearly two in the morning. She had sent a servant to call for him as soon as her husband had fallen asleep.

"A good Watcher must be alert in all hours," Buffy grinned bitterly, "and I think you know the reason," she replied, looking away from him.

He nodded, sipping at his tea. "I must admit I am surprised your husband is not present for this."

"He doesn't need to be here," she said, nervously chewing at her lower lip.

"If I may ask, what drove you to decide so quickly? You seemed rather reluctant to agree last time we met."

"Things change," she shrugged. "I change, my insights change. If you really must know, I had a talk with my husband earlier tonight. We discussed it. He made me realize there were things far more important than my calling."

"I see," the Watcher nodded.

"No, you can't," she gazed up at him, her eyes tearful. "For as long as I can remember, all I ever wanted after I had been called was to get rid of it. I wanted so much to be normal again, I would give everything to make that wish come true. I wanted my life back...so much, you can't even begin to imagine. You don't know what it's like, to be a perfectly normal girl one moment, and the next, have the weight of the world on your fifteen-year-old shoulders. You DON'T know," she stated firmly. "But then...I started to learn how to live with it, how to embrace my calling as a part of my life, as a part of me, as...me. And just when I almost came to terms with it, my entire world turned upside-down, and I wound up here, over two hundred years in the past, when everything was different, when I was expected to be different. I started slowly adjusting to this change, I took advantage of the situation the second I figured out how. I could finally NOT be the Slayer anymore, and you have no idea how great it was. I could finally be just Buffy, just me - Buffy. I finally had a chance to lead a normal life, because no one here expected me to protect the world. But you know what? I very soon realized I couldn't. It wasn't nearly as easy as I had thought it would be. It was like a drug, I realized the Slaying was a drug. I had these powers, this energy, locked up inside of me, screaming, craving to get out, and this cry was so much more powerful than I could have ever imagined. I couldn't resist it, and I found myself slaying, because I wholeheartedly WANTED to." She chuckled sadly at her own words.

Jacob peered at her for a long moment, and no matter how much he tried to fight it, he couldn't help the genuine feeling of sympathy this young woman had awaken in him towards her. He had never thought it was possible to feel that way regarding a Slayer. That little blonde made him see a Slayer as nothing but a human being, for the first time in his life as Watcher.

"All I needed was for him to tell me he was worried about me," she went on. Seemingly, that sentence came out of the blue, but it made immediate sense to the aged Watcher. "It was enough for me to question everything I thought I knew about myself. IT had the power to overthrow that cry within me. And for the first time in years, I thought...what if I want to bleed? What if I want to hit something and I want it to hurt? What if I want to pick something up and feel how heavy it really is? What if I want to, for once, act selfishly and put the responsibility on someone else's shoulders?!" she was practically sobbing by the end of the last sentence. But disregarding the tears flowing down her cheeks, she went on. "Maybe I want it to stop? Maybe if these powers, this urge to...slay, are taken from me, it will make me normal?... What if I want to be normal...again? What if I love my husband more? I'm almost twenty-one-years-old. I gave the world six years of my life. What if...I'm tired?" she added the last sentence in a whisper.

The Watcher beheld her for a spell, then nodded. "I understand," he told her honestly, and his eyes prompted her he really did.

"Help me," she whispered, in a small, pleading voice.

He stood up, ready to leave, and Buffy stood up after him. He covered the distance between them with a single stride and bowed before her, kissing her hand. "It was the utmost privilege to meet you, My Lady," he said, holding her gaze. "I have met a very few really remarkable people in my many years. None of them can ever be compared to you."

She stood speechless, not knowing what to say, as the tears kept trickling down her cheeks.

"Do not worry," he assured her with a smile. "I gave you my word, and I WILL give you what you want."

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Buffy quickly changed into her nightgown, and climbed into her bed. She reached out a hand and gently caressed her husband's sleeping face. A smile crept up to the corners of her mouth, and she wiped the remnants of tears with the back of her other hand. She lay her head on the pillow next to his and gathered his hands in hers, bringing them to her chest. "Thank you," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

Part Fifty-Four

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"Honey?" Buffy whispered in his ear.

Angel only moaned and continued sleeping.

Buffy smiled and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder. "Honey?" she repeated. "Please, wake up. I wanna show you something."

Angel moaned again.

"I know, I'm not a morning person either." Buffy tightened her embrace and tenderly brushed her lips against his shoulder. "Sleepyhead," she kissed his neck, "wake up." She grinned abruptly, as if having an idea. "I'll give you a special reward," she whispered alluringly, kissing a trail down his cheek to his neck, "but you're gonna have to open your eyes first," she whispered softly into his ear, gently nibbling at his earlobe.

Angel opened one eye and peered at her drowsily.

Buffy embraced him tightly and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I knew that was gonna work," she proclaimed grinning.

He opened the second eye and rotated on his other side to face her, as Buffy climbed off of him to allow him the move. "Where is my reward?" he inquired expectantly.

"Right before your eyes," she grinned.

"What?"

"You're looking at it," she explained, "your reward is me."

Angel beheld her for a long moment. "Then I am taking my reward and going back to sleep." He wrapped her in his arms, pressing her against his chest, and kissed her head before closing his eyes again.

"This isn't fair," she moaned, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

He smiled, inclining his chin on her head, but kept his eyes closed. He removed one hand from around her to pull the huge geese feathers blanket to cover them both, and then hugged her right back. "What is not fair?"

"You," she complained, "you know that whenever you do that, I don't wanna get up either."

He beamed and kissed her hair, inhaling its scent. "Yes, I know," he breathed out.

"You're evil."

"I know that too."

"I wanted to show you something," she spoke in her little girl's voice that always touched his heart the most. She knew it'd do the trick.

Angel opened his eyes and pulled off, but the concern on his face dissolved into a knowing smile once he perceived the winning grin twinkling in her large orbs. "You tricked me."

"I didn't just trick you," she corrected, "I tricked you and it worked." Buffy beamed and rose from the bed. When she saw he wasn't about to follow, she pulled the quilt off of him with one swift motion, and swathed it around herself, sticking her tongue out at him and heading off towards the largest window in their bedroom.

Angel shook his head grinning, and followed his wife.

He caught up with Buffy by the window. She was looking outside, but once she could sense him approaching, she turned around to face him and smiled brightly.

"You left me all cold," he complained teasingly.

Buffy grinned. "My poor baby," she commiserated, "well, we're just gonna have to fix that, aren't we?" She invitingly swung the blanket open with one arm, indicating for him to join her under it.

Instead, Angel slipped under the quilt and hoisted Buffy in his arms. Then he perched down on the window-seat, and placed her in his arms, in the gap between his legs, enveloping the comforter around them both.

Buffy smiled happily and burrowed in his arms, until she found the warmest and coziest place for every part of her body. Angel smiled until she stopped shifting, and then secured his arms around her, gently stroking her golden locks as she lay her head on his chest. "What did you want to show me, beloved?" he asked her softly.

Buffy removed her head from his chest and peered at the frost adorning the glass. "The snow, Angel," she said quietly.

His eyes followed hers and he also saw it. The snow. It was so downy and elegant, the flakes landed gracefully on the windowsill outside, reminding millions of miniature white feathers. He could practically descry their shape.

Buffy snuggled deeper into her love's embrace, and Angel tightened his hold. "It's beautiful, my love," she whispered, "the snow, it's so beautiful." She reached out her hand and hesitantly brushed her fingertips over the frozen ornaments on the glass, barely touching them, as if out of fear to ruin that flawless artwork.

Angel took that hand in his and brought it to his lips, to gently kiss the inside of her palm, and then her knuckles. Then he returned it underneath the blanket, still holding it in his own. "It is," he acknowledged, "I always loved the snow."

"I didn't," she sighed. "Well, 'couldn't' would be more accurate. I only saw it for the first time just a little before I turned eighteen. That's kinda lame, living in the world for almost eighteen years and never once seeing a real snow."

He kissed her head. "Well, if it consoles you a bit, this is only the second of many more times when we would witness it together."

"The third," Buffy corrected.

"But I was not really there, so for me it is the second."

She considered it for a second and then tilted her head up. "So for me it's the second too," she whispered, before their warm and craving lips found each other.

"I love you so much, mo aingeal," he said softly, as he lay his forehead against hers after the kiss had ended.

Buffy beamed. She loved it when he called her all those beautiful words in Gaelic. She wasn't sure when she liked it more though. Was it before she knew their meaning, when they sounded like magical phrases out of a fairytale, or was it after, when she finally learned part of the language, and knew just how beautiful these words truly were?

She peered up at him. "I want to go out," she said.

Angel eyed her with concern. "Out? You might catch a cold…" his hands instinctively moved to her now visibly protruding belly.

"Oh, and what are you? Mr-invincible-I-can-never-get-sick? You certainly proved that last time around."

"No, love," he chuckled, "I meant that you are not used to this climate like I am. It is much colder than you think out there. You have only seen one Irish winter so far, and they say this one is going to be much colder. And you are pregnant, I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you or to our baby. I realize I cannot lock you inside, but it is a risk I would rather not take."

She smiled. He knew that smile only too well, just as he knew THIS was one battle there was no way he was going to win. THAT smile screamed 'there is nothing you can do to change my mind'. "Honey, with the amount of animals that were killed to make the coats you bought me, I don't think a cold can catch ME," she grinned, her fingers abstractly playing with a strand of his brown hair that was cascading from his shoulder. "I want to go outside, and…do stuff…that you do when…when there's snow. I never got to do that last year."

"Beloved, last year, I would NEVER allow you to go out into the snow, and if I had to lock you in the house for that, I most certainly would. You were pregnant last year."

She sighed. "Yes, I was, and you watched me all the time to make sure I stayed home…"

"To make sure you were warm and safe," he reworded.

Buffy kissed him. "And I thank you."

Angel peered at her for some time. "And you are pregnant now too."

"It's not only MY fault it always falls on the winter," Buffy pouted. "Besides, I'm only four months along..."

"It was about four months last year as well..."

"And you had it your way, and I stayed home," she argued, "and this year I want it to be MY way."

"And I am not taking the risk..."

"YOU are exaggerating."

"I am TRYING to keep you safe!" he exclaimed, as she stood up from his lap.

"No, right now, you're trying to win an argument," Buffy pointed out. "Unfortunately for you, I happen to know you too well."

"Alright," he sighed, giving in and walking over to her, "I am trying to win this argument. But for your sake more than for mine."

"Oh?" his wife shot him a look, as she lay back down on the bed. "You know I don't wanna go there without you," she told him, reposing her both hands on her abdomen, "the whole point of it is for us to go together, so if you don't go, I'm not going to defy you anyway."

Angel sighed with reverse. He knew even when this debate only took off, that there was no way he could ever withhold anything from her. He sat down on the bed next to her, leaning down to kiss her crown. "Forgive me for upsetting you," he whispered.

"You didn't," she assured, although couldn't keep the slight sadness from her voice.

Angel brushed his hand over her hair. "God, if I knew it meant so much to you..."

"I never got to really experience what snow was like...I mean, it's not a big deal for you, you lived here all your life," she explained.

"I understand," he sighed, grinning.

She beamed, finally looking at him. "I love you," she whispered. "I don't want to go against you, THAT'S why you upset me, NOT because you're worried about me. I already told you, I hate it when we fight."

"We fought twice in two years of marriage, if you consider this time," he smiled, taking her hands in his.

"I still hate it. I just wanted us to do something fun together. The fact that I'm pregnant isn't supposed to be in the way, you know. It's supposed to be a good thing."

Her husband bent forward and planted a soft kiss on her belly. "It is," he grinned.

She grinned back, caressing his cheek. "Then can we? Please? I swear, if you're right with your arguments, I'll admit it and I'll never nag you again," her orbs twinkled with a mischievous glitter. "Come on, you won't get a better deal anywhere else."

Angel laughed. "No, I presume I will not."

Buffy sat up. "Is that an official 'yes'?"

He smiled. "Remember though. You promised."

"I swear," she beamed, throwing her arms around his neck, as he hugged her to him. "And I also promise you won't regret it."

"I am quite certain I will not," he observed, grinning. Having her so happy in his arms, he already didn't regret it.

"Oh, honey, one more thing," she abruptly pulled back, "what are your feelings concerning ice-skating?"

He gazed at her, slightly surprised. "Do you…do you know how to?"

Buffy rolled her eyes but kept her smile. "We had skating rinks, remember?"

He nodded after a short while. "Of course. I forgot. You told me."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Can we go skating? Is there a lake around here or something?"

"Yes, there is a small pond, for the matter of fact. I wonder how come I have never shown it to you up until now. It is a very beautiful place, actually. I used to love going there in whatever time of the year. But we should take a carriage, it is rather far. I shall ask for one to be prepared before we leave."

Buffy flung her arms around his neck excitedly. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. "I already thought you were going to say no."

He grinned. "Oh, believe me, I would. If it was not within the family's grounds and had a hut where we could go if needed, I would never allow you to go somewhere in the middle of nowhere in this weather. On THIS, I would have insisted."

Buffy let go of him, scrutinizing his eyes in wonder. "We own a lake?" she had obviously stopped listening after that particular part.

He shrugged. "Well, yes…I suppose. I mean, it is mentioned in my inheritance…"

"Wow," was all she could say, after a spell of shocked silence.

Angel only smiled. "You will love it, I am sure of it. I cannot believe I have not skated in years…" he suddenly said. "I might be a bit rusty in it," he admitted. "Actually, the last time I put on my skates was…I think I was seventeen then."

"Seventeen?" Buffy was amazed. "That's ten years ago! How did you manage to have your own lake and not skate for ten years?"

"Well, I never liked going alone. I used to go with my father, or Doyle, when he was still living here, or Ilana. But as my father grew older, he became too fatigued to go, and Doyle married and moved, so it was just Ilana and me eventually, but she was never very fond of it, so…I just stopped. I planned on taking you last year, but you were pregnant, and I did not want to go without you."

Buffy beamed, stroking his cheek. "Have I ever told you how sweet you are?"

He smiled. "Thank you, beloved, but I think you are only happy because you had it your way."

She nodded, then beamed. "But I give you my personal guarantee you will be too, very soon," she kissed the tip of his nose.

"Alright," he grinned, "now, if you excuse me, I must have some food made for us to take along, and order to prepare a coach."

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Buffy looked around her as the carriage finally stopped and Angel opened the door for her. He reached out his hand and helped her down. Once she was out, Angel wrapped one arm around her, while she was still gazing about her in awe. "Well? What do you think?" he asked.

She turned to him. "This is amazing," she said. "Angel, this is so beautiful. I can't believe I've never seen it before."

"You have a lifetime ahead of you to see it whenever you like." He kissed her brow. "And I assure you, in mid spring it is even more beautiful. I remember when I was younger, my father used to take me here following our annual hunting trip in the woods, and we would stay for several days, before coming back to the house. It was my favorite time of the year," he added, somewhat sadly, and Buffy could see in his eyes he was thinking about his father.

She squeezed his hand and leaned closer against his shoulder. "Maybe one day you could take Daniel with you, or our other children, or maybe I could come…unless it's a father and son kinda thing, and you wouldn't…"

Angel shushed her with his index finger. "I would love that," he beamed. "Love, could you wait here while I put the horses in the stable?"

She smiled. "Sure."

He kissed her hand and left to untie the two horses.

Buffy looked about herself again. The place truly was ravishing. The pond was covered with a thick layer of ice, which was a bit surprising, considering the weather wasn't that cold. It was even and vitreous, glinting under the rays of the sun. The trees around it were bare, their glacial branches covered with a slender crust of pure white snow, frozen icicles suspending from them like hundreds of delicate glistening crystals. Buffy even descried they were shimmering in various tints, all depended on the direction where the sun came from. It was definitely a sight Buffy had never seen before, and she was undoubtedly taken with every little detail right away.

She turned around, and her eyes came across a wooden cottage, not too big, but neither too small, standing nearby. Adjacent to it was a small stable.

The roof was completely covered with a thick layer of white snow, and so were the windowsills and the terrace.

It wasn't snowing so much yet, Buffy had to admit, partly with disappointment. She would prefer if there were more snow.

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"And that was for someone who hasn't been skating in what…ten years?" Buffy observed, as Angel and she finally stood still on the ice, after what seemed to her like endless skating and spinning. "You could have told me you were that good, you know." She followed him as he started off again, holding on to his hand.

He spun around, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Are you disappointed or glad?" he inquired.

Buffy grinned. "None, actually. I'm just surprised." She was panting a bit as she spoke, and her face was slightly red, but she didn't feel tired.

"Are you alright, beloved?" Angel asked her suddenly.

Buffy beamed. "Yeah, why?"

"You are not cold? Or hungry, or anything? Are you sure you are not cold?"

Buffy giggled. "Honey, I'm perfectly fine," she could see he stepped into his 'worried Angel' mode.

He touched her face gently. "You look tired," he noted. "Perhaps we should go home, we have been here for some hours already. I do not wish to exhaust you."

"I'm okay," she promised him, "stop worrying, alright? You were relatively quiet up till now, what's changed?"

"You look tired," he said honestly.

"Me, AND the little one," she touched her belly, "are not ready to go home yet." She smiled. "But we could have a little rest, I am kinda tired," she finally admitted, and glanced at the cabin. "You said it's livable."

Angel smiled. "Thank you."

"Whatever would I be doing without you to take care of me?" she joked.

"Probably freeze until you had enough fun," he quipped.

Buffy smiled sweetly, pulling him after her towards the land.

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He opened the door for Buffy, letting her in first, and closed it behind them. Then he helped her take off her coat, and while she went to inspect the room, took off his own as well, and hanged them both.

Buffy rubbed her belly as she sat down on the carpet in front of the mantelpiece, where Angel was busy starting the fire. "I hate saying this, but you were right."

He turned to her for a moment, obviously having no idea what she was talking about, and went back to lighting the logs in the fireplace.

"About me being tired," she told him, "you were right when you said it would be exhausting. And my no-longer-supernatural-pregnant-back is killing me," she remarked jokingly, and leaned back on one hand, laying the other on her round belly. "Next time we plan my pregnancy so it won't fall on the winter, deal?"

Angel instantly left the fire and was by her side. "Come on," he wrapped his arms around her, helping her to her feet, "I want you to lie down." He walked her to the bed.

Buffy obediently did as told, resting her hands on her abdomen.

Angel, of course, noticed it. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "it's just that the baby is a little restless."

"Buffy…" he started in his usual worried tone.

"Sweetie, I'm fine." She reached her hand up to caress his cheek. "I'm fine, really, and the baby is too. I'm just worn out. As I told you, you were right. Be smug," she grinned.

"This is not one of the times I wish I were right. What if something happened…"

"But nothing did," she stopped him. "Nothing did."

"Alright," he removed her shoes and mindfully covered her. "I will finish with the fire now, and I will make you something hot to drink."

She nodded, and he kissed her brow before leaving.

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When Angel came back after about ten minutes, with a steaming mug of tea in his one hand, and a pillow in the other, Buffy was asleep.

"Sweetheart," he gently shook her shoulder, "wake up."

Buffy just moaned.

"Love, wake up, please, I brought you some tea and I want you to drink it all, please."

She moaned again, but remained asleep.

Angel put the tea on a small table near the bed and sat down next to Buffy, rocking her shoulder again. This time he succeeded to bring her to open her eyes.

"What?" she queried drowsily.

"Have some tea," he offered her the mug.

Buffy sat up and took it from him, sipping at the drink. "It's hot," she grimaced.

"I know," he said, "but it will make you feel better, you will see." He kissed her brow and was gently stroking her hair, as she slowly gulped on and on.

"There," he took the empty mug from her when she was done and put it back on the table. "Are you feeling better?"

She smiled. "Yes, thank you."

Angel fluffed the extra pillow he brought and added it to the one underneath her head before she lay back down. Then he tucked her in and gently stroked her face. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes closing again.

"Are you warm enough? Are you sure you do not need anything else?"

Buffy opened her eyes and peered at him. "Honey, all I need is for you to join me. Don't you think you can worry about me so much better if you laid next to me?" she asked with a grin.

He smiled and complied, wrapping his arms around his wife as he lay down by her side.

"Now, I'm good," he heard her whisper as she nestled closer to him, just before he fell asleep.

THE END

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