Disclaimer: If the characters were mine there would be no need to write this story; Buffy and Angel would already be living happily ever after in Aruba and Riley would never have existed. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (sigh); I'm borrowing for fun (theirs, mine and hopefully yours), not profit.
Rating: PG13 I guess
Spoilers: Everything up to the end of that wretched excuse for a 4th season.

Buffy dropped down onto the curb and pulled her knees up under her chin. She was too far away to feel the heat of the flames or smell the smoke, but she could still hear the sirens in the distance. It wasn't over yet.

Four days, that was all it took. Four days ago she was hanging with her friends at the Bronze, patrolling suspiciously quiet cemeteries and putting off any life-altering decisions until some indeterminate point in the future. No one asked anything of her other than her presence, so she didn't have to play any games or pretend to feel things she couldn't. For the first time in a year she had permission not to feel anything at all. And somehow, in the dearth of expectations, she slowly began to rediscover the emotions she thought were forever lost.

Then came a sound she had never expected to hear again. The indifference she had been slowly trying to unwind from around her soul was stripped away in a flash, leaving her heart bruised and torn.

And Angel thought she was the one with the prophetic dreams.

* * * * *

Buffy had been doing her laundry when the first of the props in her house of cards caved in. Laundry was not usually a life-altering activity, even for her, but Fate always seemed to like mixing the mundane with the melodramatic. Good for contrast.

She was carefully checking her clothes for any stubborn stains as she moved them one by one from the laundry basket into her bureau. So far so good, but if she'd learned anything in her five years as defender of the universe, it was that the stain remover had yet to be invented that could eradicate every single type of demon blood. Even careful slayers died eventually, but at least they could die well dressed.

She was scrutinizing an intricately patterned halter-top for renegade demon spew when a sudden scraping noise came from behind her. She spun around; her heart prepared to see what her mind told her would never be again.

"Easy, killer," Riley laughed from outside her now-open window. "It's just me."

"Riley," she said flatly as her heart resumed beating. She could see instantly that her lackluster response was not what he had envisioned, but she was having a hard time dealing with the sight of him climbing in her bedroom window. The early morning sunlight was pouring in around him as he gracelessly tumbled into the room, yet her traitorous imagination colored the sky black around a large dark figure silently slipping over the sill.

She shook her head to dispel the illusion, leaving only Riley standing sheepishly in the center of the room.

"I wanted to surprise you," he said awkwardly. "I just got back into town and I couldn't wait to see you. Thought coming in the window would be more romantic."He shrugged.

"Umm, yeah, well..." she fumbled, searching for a reason for her silence. Searching, that is, for any reason but the real one. "It was, I mean, it is, but you really shouldn't do that. The tree, that is to say the roof, isn't very sturdy, and the tree isn't actually...it's just not a good idea."

"Okay, I won't do it again," he agreed amicably. "But since I'm here, don't I get a kiss? It's been a long summer." He held open his arms.

A kiss, of course; that was what a girl was supposed to do when her boyfriend came to see her after a two-month absence. Habit propelled her across the room to slide into his embrace. She pulled his head down for a kiss, but before their lips could meet, a voice was heard from the doorway.

"Riley, how nice!" Joyce Summers beamed at her daughter's tall, blonde, human boyfriend. "When did you get here? How did you get here?" She looked quizzically at Buffy.

Riley grinned sheepishly and pointed to the window. "Took a shortcut. Just got back in town about an hour ago. You're looking well, Mrs. Summers. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you. My, don't you look tanned! You must have spent the whole summer out in the sun, just like Buffy."

Unspoken was the comparison to a certain former window-breacher who couldn't do things like that, but Buffy heard her loud and clear.

"Mom, was there a reason you came up?" Buffy asked pointedly. "You told me you had to be at the gallery early today." She resisted the urge to tap her foot, but the downward turn of her mouth and the crossed arms expressed her impatience quite clearly.

Joyce's cheery smile dimmed slightly in the face of her daughter's confusing ill humor. "I just wanted to tell you Xander called. He and that Anya girl are on their way over to pick you up. Is it just me or is she…a little strange?"

"She used to be a demon," Riley said, rolling his eyes.

Joyce sagely nodded her head. "Ah, that explains a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy flared. "So she used to be a demon. She isn't one now. Even if she was, that's her business, and Xander's, no one else's. It's not like all demons are bad anyway."

She turned her back to both of them and stared pointedly at an old poster on her wall. Like all the other relics of her former life, it should have been discarded long ago, but she hadn't the strength to take the final step. Some day, though, she would be forced to, and a little more of the Buffy that once was would disappear.

Joyce shared a concerned glance with Riley. "Honey, I'm sorry, I just meant...well, being a demon means she's not too used to humans and how to act around them. It makes sense now that her behavior is a little, umm, odd."

Buffy instinctively tensed when Riley's large hand fell upon her shoulder, then she consciously relaxed her muscles. Her boyfriend was comforting her, she reminded herself; this was normal, this was good. Turning around to face him, and her worried mother, she forced an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry too. Not sure why I'm so edgy this morning." She shrugged her slim shoulders, trying to adopt a more carefree persona. "Pre-semester jitters, I guess. New classes, new professors, the whole she-bang coming up in the a.m. And it's not like there's even been a lot of demon activity lately to take the edge off."

"Well now I'm here," Riley said with a playful leer. "I'll have you relaxed in no time."

"And on that note, I'll be going." Joyce waved her hand at Riley as she backed out of the room. "I'm glad you're back, Riley. Buffy's been down all summer with you away. " She shook her finger at her daughter with mock severity. "But what is it with men and your bedroom window? Now that you're living home again I really should invest in better locks. Or should I make that a ladder?" She disappeared, leaving Buffy to deal with a puzzled Riley.

"Have there been a lot of men climbing in your bedroom window?" he teased, as he picked up a stuffed animal from her bed. When Buffy didn't smile, or even seem to hear him, he became a little suspicious. He took a step closer to her and placed his finger under her chin, tilting her head up to face him. "Or is she talking about one in particular, like the one who had to be invited first?"

Buffy jerked her head away and looked down at her hands, at the floor, anywhere but at Riley. It wouldn't be fair to look at him right now, with so many images from the past blocking out the present.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he pressed. "That's how Angel used to get in. And that's why you don't want me to use the same way. Because it makes you think of him, doesn't it?" He tried to keep the accusatory note out of his voice, but the pain he glimpsed in her evasive eyes struck a nerve.

Buffy knew she had to respond, though she really didn't know what to say. "Riley," she began helplessly. "It's just not a good idea. I mean, you shouldn't be climbing tall trees and sliding around on rooftops. It's dangerous."

"Because I'm not as strong as he is or as coordinated? Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He had a sudden irrational wish that he'd never stopped taking those damn steroid pills. At least with them he could have the illusion of keeping up with his miniature Amazon of a girlfriend.

Without thinking he twisted the body of the small stuffed pig in his tightening hands.

"I'm not trying to make you feel anything, Mr. Nice-to-see-you-and-have-a-guilt-trip-on-me," Buffy flared as she snatched Mr. Gordo from his grasp. "Yes, Angel used to come in that way, a really long time ago, and I used to sneak out the same way to see him." She stepped back a few paces and faced him defiantly. "I don't sneak out anymore, Riley. I use the door. And I don't need to hide it from my mother when my boyfriend stops by. You she adores."

Riley was puzzled as to how he lost the upper hand, but he realized that somehow she thought he was in the wrong. That was not how it was supposed to be; he was supposed to be the good guy. That was the plan.

"Buffy, I..."

"The Buffy who did all that is gone, Riley," she continued vehemently. "I may have moved home and I may be living in a shrine to the goddess of puberty, but I'm not the girl who created it. I can't be her ever again."

Oh God, how I wish I could be, she cried silently.

Mr. Gordo's button eyes seemed to shine in mute sympathy as she gently placed him next to her pillow.

"Hey, I don't want you to. I like who you are now," Riley protested. He concentrated on softening his tone, trying to smooth over the tumultuous waters. He didn't want to scare her.

Buffy stared at him, thinking bleakly that he had no idea who she was; she'd never let him see anything but the façade she showed the world. To him she was College Buffy, Normal Buffy, Happy Buffy. Gotta give the crowd what they want to see or they'll leave and you'll be all alone Buffy.

"Okay, new topic." Riley gathered the somewhat fraying edges of his temper as he guided her over to sit on the edge of the bed. "How was your summer without me? From what your mom just said, you spent it pining over me." The thought immediately restored him to his usual good humor.

"Summer was fine." Buffy made a determined effort to focus her thoughts on Riley. "Not much in the way of demons, but lots of quality beach time. I pretty much took a mental vacation instead of a body one."

She looked at Riley's smiling, tanned face, trying to summon up the joy she should be feeling at his return. But after months of neglect, her emotions were apparently no longer responding to commands. All she could conjure up was a whining regret that the separation was over so soon. He was going to need things from her and expect things of her, and the only thought in her mind right now was pushing him out the window he came in. Anything to escape.

"Well, I missed you like crazy." Riley slipped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. "You always sounded kind of distant on the phone. I couldn't wait to get back and really talk to you."

Buffy choked on her laughter, trying to smother it with her hand. She suddenly realized what was wrong with this reunion. He wanted to talk and share and bond, and she wanted things back to the same old numbness. There lay safety.

Everlasting, smothering, stultifying safety.

"Talk? As in deep, meaningful conversation? Umm, Riley, that's really not what we do best. It's nice and all, but highly overrated. Can't we find something a little less Oprah to do?" She tipped her head up to kiss him, determined to get their relationship back on its old familiar footing. There had to be at least one thing she could salvage from the wreck that was last year, and maybe it was this.

After all, Angel seemed to think sex was the key to a "normal" relationship.

Riley's lips touched hers, and it was though a cascade of ice water suddenly flowed down her back. She jerked away, staring at him in confusion. She'd kissed him, and done a whole lot more than that, time and time again last year. She may not have felt the earth move, but it was never quite so...gross. Without thinking, her hand came up to brush the taste of him off her lips.

"Buffy, what's wrong now?" Riley was getting annoyed. So far his welcome home had been decidedly lacking in welcome.

She couldn't face him. She turned her head away, staring at her closet door. "I...I just remembered Xander and Anya are coming over. I don't want to get involved in something we can't finish." The thought of what she almost started, and where it would have led created a barely repressed shudder.

Riley eyed her doubtfully, but he had never been very good at knowing when she was lying to him. Lacking the instinct, he had to rely on her tone, which sounded sincere to him.

"Okay," he said, massaging her unusually tense shoulders, "how about we just get rid of them? We haven't been alone since before the big showdown with Adam last spring." He grinned at the memory of their pre-showdown activities as he leaned over to nibble on her ear.

The minute his lips made contact with her skin, Buffy jumped to her feet, leaving Riley to sprawl awkwardly on the bed. She glanced back when she heard his muffled curse, but she made no move from her sanctuary in the center of the room.

"Riley, I can't. We're all going over to help Tara move into the apartment. We got Willow moved in last week, but Tara doesn't arrive until today." She tried very hard to sound disappointed.

He took a deep breath and tried another tack. "An apartment," he mused, tapping his finger on his chin. "Wouldn't that be a great idea? Now that you're living with your mom again and I'm stuck in the graduate student housing because the government destroyed Lowell House, we're going to have a big problem finding time to be alone." Riley sat up abruptly. "Say, maybe we should get an apartment, just you and me. Wouldn't that be terrific?"

"Riley," Buffy said quickly, "I think you're getting ahead of..."

Riley ignored the sounds of distress in his girlfriend's voice as he began to pace around the room. He waved his hands to point out imaginary furniture as he spoke, planning everything within the space of minutes.

"...and we can have a little window box garden and I have this great old beanbag chair of my dad's that will be perfect to snuggle in, and I promise I'll help with the cooking and the dishes." He swung around to face Buffy, still seeming not to notice her lack of enthusiasm. "I know of this old apartment building on the end of Crawford Street, so we'll be near the campus and..."

"No!" Buffy managed to make herself heard at last. "Not Crawford Street. Not apartment, actually. You, me, living together, not. No." She took her breath in huge gulps, feeling like she had just come up from under deep water after far too long.

"Buffy, why are you so upset? I mean, yeah, maybe it's a little soon, but I just want to be with you. The way things are now, we'll be stuck making out in the cemetery during patrol." His guileless tanned face loomed over her as he put his arms around her.

Buffy fought off the memories that overtook her as she tried not to fight off Riley. He was her boyfriend, he loved her and she should be overjoyed to see him again. Instead, every word out of his mouth seemed designed to bring the ghost of Angel into the room with them.

"Well, I see we arrived just in time," said Xander from the doorway. "Buffy already gets enough gratuitous violence in her life; I don't think she has time for the sex right now."

Buffy pushed away from Riley and tried to look annoyed. "Xander Harris, have you ever heard of knocking?"

"No, but I have heard of knocking boots, and I think you were about to get a free home trial." Xander held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, your mom said it was okay to just come up."

"Are you ready to go yet?" Anya asked, muffling a yawn with her hand. "I want to get this manual labor over with so I can go back to bed." She wrapped her arms possessively around Xander's waist. "I happen to like gratuitous sex."

Riley looked as though he wanted to comment, but Buffy didn't give him the chance. She grabbed her knapsack from the chair and waved her hand at her erstwhile boyfriend.

"Come on, time to go. You have unpacking to do, we have unpacking to do, and we all have class tomorrow."

"Even Xander," Anya said proudly.

Buffy saw the grateful smile Xander flashed Anya in response and it made her heart twist tightly in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she felt such unrestrained pride in someone, or basked in the glow of his pride in her. Or rather, she could, but those memories hurt even more than the lack of them would.

"It's just a few classes," Xander said modestly. "I took my SATs over again, and Anya helped me actually study this time, so UC Sunnydale accepted me."

"You just needed the proper incentive. But even if it worked, I still think Willow had an ulterior motive for suggesting the withholding of sex." Anya pouted as she thought of all that wasted time.

"Not exactly an original plan" Buffy admitted dryly, "but it did the trick. Or not, actually."

"Hey!" Xander snapped. "Now that you know what I didn't do last summer, can we go off topic? We have heavy man-type lifting to do today. Riley, old buddy, old pal, do you want to help...ouch!" He glared at Buffy. "Excuse me, Ms. Stronger-than-a-locomotive. When you're trying to make a point, either don't use your elbow to do it, or back off on the super powers, please."

Buffy smiled apologetically at Xander, then at Riley. "Sorry, Xand, but I don't want you taking advantage of Riley's good nature. He just got back; he has his own unpacking to do."

"Besides, you know Buffy's stronger than Riley," Anya said carelessly. "What do we need him for?"

What indeed, Buffy puzzled, not daring to meet Riley's eyes.

* * * * *

"I tell you, Will, it was positively Psychic Hotline," Buffy confessed as she dropped a box of books on Willow's living room floor. "It was like Riley was channeling or something. Welcome to the All Angel wavelength."

"Maybe someone is being just a tad too sensitive?" Her best friend's tone was gentle, but the 'mom' note was unmistakable.

Buffy raised her hand as if in pledge. "Everything that came out of his mouth was some sort of blast from the past. A past he should know nothing about, I might add." She sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bookcase and began to pull the books out of the box and place them on the shelves.

Willow pushed a stray lock of red hair out of her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at Buffy. "But you told him about Angel months ago. Why shouldn't he know this stuff?" She returned her attention to the altar she was arranging on a milk crate, until Buffy's silence became too great to ignore.

"Buffy, you did tell him everything, didn't you? I know he knows about Angel; Xander told me he did." She looked sternly at her best friend, trying to will the correct response.

"Yeah, and Xander told him a whole lot more than I ever meant to," Buffy replied with a grimace. "Thing is, there are some things Xander doesn't know, and I certainly never had plans to share the nitty gritty details of my ex with this year's model. But everything he said or did...it was like he already knew and he was baiting me."

"That's crazy, Buffy." Willow waved away any possibility of that as reality. "Riley would never do that. Where is all this coming from?" She sat down on the floor next to Buffy, waiting patiently for an answer.

Buffy looked away, unable to bear the sympathy she could see shining in Willow's eyes. She toyed with the book in her hand, endlessly turning it over in her hands as though it were a Rubik's cube she needed to solve.

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "I guess I'm just confused. I never let myself think about...I mean I never thought about Angel when I was with Riley; of course I didn't. But now...suddenly everything is like a great big post-it note with Angel's name on it."

"Well, maybe it's because this was the first time you guys have really been apart, like you and, well, you know who I mean. But Riley came back."

"You think that's all it is?" Buffy asked bleakly. "Sort of a weird survivor's guilt or something?"

She knew the guilt of moving on at the price of another's pain, but she never thought to feel guilty for her own pain. She tried very hard not to think of her own pain at all, ever. Thinking led to feeling, which only led to more pain.

"Sure," Willow said, a little too heartily. "You love Riley and he came back and now you're feeling guilty because the times Angel came back, well, things weren't so simple."

Buffy placed the last book on the shelf and rose smoothly to her feet. She carried the now empty book box over to the door and placed it with the rest.

"Maybe that's it, Will," she replied heavily. "Things are really simple with Riley; we don't fight, he gets along with my mother, even Xander tolerates him. Mostly. My whole life is really simple now. Cut and dried. Clear shot from start to finish. Nothing but blue skies and picnics in the park. Why wouldn't I feel guilty?"

"You do sound guilty," Willow said uneasily, "but suddenly I'm not so sure it's because you're happy. I thought you two were doing really well, but now you sound like you wish Riley had never come back."

Buffy looked down at her hands for a moment, remembering when one hand had been graced with a ring of a value beyond words. The ring was gone now, irretrievably lost, like the girl who had worn it. At least she had told Riley one truth today. There was no going back to the old Buffy, the one who would die for love. She vanished into the smoke and shadows long ago.

She drew a deep breath. "Don't be silly, Will. Of course I'm glad he's back. Summer is a great vacation from reality, but now it's over and time for a normal life again. It's what I've always wanted, right?"

She had made her bed, and now it was literally time to lie in it.

* * * * *

The "normal life" Buffy had long desired was hers for the asking. But as with most things in her life, it seemed to work a lot better in theory than in practice.

Riley came over with pizza later in the day, to feed the hungry workers, and then he drove Buffy home. Coming to a smooth stop, he parked the car on the street rather than the driveway. He pulled the key from the ignition and pocketed it, then draped his arm across the back of Buffy's seat.

"I haven't made out in a car since high school," he joked, trying to slide closer to her without risking injury from the gearshift on the floor between them. "My dad's old truck had a bench seat, which made things a whole lot easier, let me tell you. Still, I think we can..."

"Riley, stop," Buffy said desperately, holding him back with one hand placed firmly on his chest. "You're right; making out in a car is way too high school. Besides, I still have to patrol. Alone," she added quickly when she saw he was about to speak. "I just want to make a quick sweep and then get to bed. You know, big day tomorrow, first day of school. Shiny-new-apple-for-the-teacher time. You understand."

"I wish I didn't," he said with a wounded look in his blue eyes. "Buffy, why are you making up excuses not to be with me? I missed you. Didn't you miss me?"

"Well of course I did," she said, after too long of a pause. "But I have responsibilities, as a friend, as a student and as a slayer."

"What about as a girlfriend?" Riley almost growled. He slid back to the farthest edge of his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why are you pulling this guilt trip on me again?" She stared at him; not believing this was simple, uncomplicated Riley causing her all these hassles. "I'm here, aren't I? Jeeze! We don't have to spend every single second attached at the groin to prove we're a couple."

Unseen by Riley in the darkness of the car, Buffy could feel her face flush at her words. She remembered all too clearly when she had believed that was precisely what they needed to do. Angel had made it seem like such an important part of a relationship, and it was such an easy way to...no, no, no! She mentally smacked herself in the head for being the one to bring the ghost of Angel between them this time. This was about she and Riley, no one else. The trouble was, she suddenly wasn't sure if there ever really was a she and Riley.

"I'm willing to settle for a little friendly conversation," he said grumpily. "Just tell me what you're thinking. Relationships are about sharing things like thoughts and feelings."

She looked at him silently for a moment, seeing not the man in front of her, but another. She remembered many soft and sweet conversations with that dark man of her past; conversations where she laid her heart open, knowing she was putting it in safekeeping.

Until the day he walked away, disappearing in the smoke and shadows with that self-same heart in his hands.

"Riley," she began with difficulty, "I feel as close to you now as I can ever imagine feeling to anyone again. I don't think words are gonna change that. Good night." She opened her car door and slid out before he could say another word.

She held back her tears through a quick hello to her mother, and all the way up the stairs, but the dam broke as soon as she reached her room. All of her beautiful numbness was gone, ripped away by the sight of the wrong head at her bedroom window. Now there was nothing left but a raw, aching emptiness destined to remain unfilled.

* * * * *

Buffy half-expected Riley to follow her out on patrol later that night, despite her request for solitude, but to her relief he abided by her wishes. She made a quick sweep of the new graves in the cemeteries, but found no new vamps on whom to vent her frustrations.

Angel's ghost haunted and taunted her every step of the way, reminding her of the thousand ways she had drawn him, sometimes against his will, into her life, and of the equal number of ways she had firmly kept Riley out.

At last she conceded defeat, at least in the slayage department. All that was left for her to do was go home and do a wardrobe check for clothes suitable for the first day of sophomore year. Well, that and feel guilty for thinking of Angel when she should have been thinking of Riley. Both were items she would have been happy to erase from the agenda, but neither seemed avoidable.

Riley came by early the next morning to give her a ride to campus. Buffy was carefully gracious to him, and he was unfailingly polite to her, but the shadow of the previous night hung between them. As the day went on and Riley seemed to pop up whenever she was not in class, he began to thaw towards her. Buffy should have been relieved, but all she could feel was a growing dread.

By the time the Slayer and Slayerettes gathered for lunch, Riley was his old self. He joked with her friends, and told her about his classes and asked about hers. In short, he exhibited all the appropriate boyfriend behavior, since he was a very appropriate boyfriend.

Buffy tried to concentrate on living in the now, in her perfect "normal" life, but she could feel herself drifting further away with each passing moment. She tried to pull herself back, but a bone-chilling cold crept over her limbs, cutting her off from those she loved and from love itself. It was the numbness she once craved; the absence of pain and loss, but a summer's worth of reflection had made her realize it was also the absence of joy and peace.

"I can't...I can't do this now," she stammered, interrupting one of Xander's jokes. She shoved her chair back from the table as she hastily rose to her feet. Riley, ever the gentleman, started to stand up as well, but she waved him away.

"I'm fine," she said impatiently. "I just need to be alone for awhile. I'll call you tomorrow." She all but ran to get to her next class. Mercifully, it was her last one of the day.

Riley stared after her and scratched his head. He turned back to the confused Scoobies, hoping they would have some insight he was lacking. He wanted to get a reading of Buffy's emotional temperature, to learn more about what happened over the summer to alter her perception of him so drastically, to understand what she wanted from him. He needed to communicate the depth of his concern so they would help him help Buffy.

"Was it something I said?"

* * * * *

All summer long, all year long really, the vampires had been giving Sunnydale a wide berth. Buffy had slain some demons in the past year, and to her regret, she had helped to capture some for the Initiative, but few of them were vampires. Patrolling the cemeteries had literally become a dead loss. Still, she always seemed to do her best thinking surrounded by tombstones, and tonight Buffy needed to commune with her thoughts.

She was still trying to puzzle out how Riley had unwittingly managed to touch on so many troubled areas of her past when she heard a heavy and unwelcome tread behind her.

"Riley, you really shouldn't be here," she said with a sigh, not bothering to turn around.

"Is that any way to talk to a guy who's combed fifteen cemeteries to find you?" Riley hurried to catch up with her and slid his arm around her stiff shoulders.

"I thought I said I could do this alone."

"I was worried about you, and I didn't want to leave things the way they were." He squeezed her shoulders. "It feels like you're still mad at me for yesterday. Besides, we always patrolled together."

Not always, her rebellious mind grumbled as she forced herself to submit to his slightly sweaty embrace. When he tried to nuzzle her ear, however, common sense threw her a lifeline.

"Riley, this is not the place for that," she said firmly. She twisted out from under his smothering arm and took a firmer grip on her crossbow.

"Since when?" Riley was honestly puzzled. "It's not like we've never made out against a headstone before. Granted we never did it for long..." he grinned at her. "We usually couldn't wait to get back to some place more private. With a bed."

Buffy winced as memories of the previous year flooded her mind. She was suddenly overcome with shame as she realized the reason she had always hurried him into bed was to escape the very thoughts and memories she had sought out tonight. Sex with Riley had not required thought, or emotion for that matter, just physical sensation. That she could give, and receive, but to Riley she knew it had meant more.

"Riley, I really don't think this is the time..." she hedged.

"Buffy, what the hell is wrong?" he exploded. "I touch you and you cringe. I try to talk to you, and you say we communicate better without words. So I touch you again and you dump me on my ass. When I left we were fine. What happened to you? I know you can't have been seeing Angel, but did you meet someone new?" His hands were clenched in fists by his side as he waited for her answer.

She swallowed nervously, stunned by his anger. Before yesterday, Riley's temper had been non-existent, along with most other strong emotions. The 'blue-eyed bland' was what Anya called him, among other things, and Buffy had silently agreed. He had been her safe haven from the storm of emotions she had once been drowning in. Suddenly he was his own little thunderstorm, and she was ill prepared for the change in weather.

"Answer me!" he commanded, when at last her silence had gone on too long.

Buffy's temper flared, jolted from its long slumber by the dictatorial tone in his voice. "The only person I met over the summer was the old Buffy, and I don't think she's speaking to me anymore. But on her behalf, let me ask you something for a change." She pushed him back slightly, just enough to make him lose his balance for a moment. "Just where do you get off playing big he-man ordering the little woman around? I'm an adult, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else tell me what to do or how to feel or what's best for me."

"I'm what's best for you."

His voice had suddenly changed. He was now using the sweetly reasonable tone she remembered so well from last year. It was the voice that seductively promised her a normal life; the voice that said demon-hunting was a job, not a calling and she could quit any time she wanted; the voice that said she was free to be just like every other girl, not The Chosen One; no one special at all.

But once upon a time, to a very special man, she had been a very special woman indeed. She missed that feeling. She missed that man. And she missed that woman too.

"You don't even know me," she said flatly. "This past year has been some sort of never-ending Halloween party. When I'm with you, suddenly I'm Barbie, you're Ken and the whole world is covered in pink plastic. Once upon a time that would have given me the biggest happy you can imagine. But I'm better than that now, or I should be."

She looked away for a moment, and then faced him squarely. It was time to take charge of her life again. "I don't think we should see each other any more."

She couldn't believe she said that. Even as the words were given life in the cool night air, she wished them back. The seesaw of her newly revived emotions dipped wildly as she weighed her freedom against being alone and abandoned once again.

"You're breaking up with me?" Riley was stunned. This was not supposed to happen this way. Too fast, it was all happening too fast, he muttered nervously to himself.

Buffy felt a wave of guilt wash over her at the sight of his stricken face. She'd hurt Riley, who had always been so kind to her. Kind and gentlemanly and helpful...and smothering and patronizing and judgmental and...no!

A door slammed shut in her mind. This was too much for her to process all at once. She hastily back-pedaled, trying to find her way to safer ground.

"I think," she began slowly, "I think what I really need is a break. I need some time to be by myself and figure out who I am. I never really took the time after..." she hesitated, not wanting to introduce a painful subject.

Riley, however, had no such compunction.

"After Angel dumped you, that's what you were going to say, right? Poor little Buffy, so lost and alone." He mimicked playing a violin as his face twisted into bitter lines. "My heart bleeds when I think about it. Angel dumps you and you decide Parker looks like good rebound material, but he dumps you too. Then along comes poor dumb Riley, who actually loves you, the way neither of those two sub-humans can. So what do you do? String me along until you get your sea legs back, and then it's so long Riley, been nice knowing you."

"Except it hasn't been nice," Buffy retorted, her sympathy wiped away by the sarcastic tone in Riley's voice. "It's been one long vacation in the Land of the Bland. God, I can't believe I used to actually complain about not having a normal life."

She wasn't sure where her words were coming from, and she was fairly sure when morning came she'd regret having given them voice. Still, at this moment, she was forced to recognize them as the truth.

He gripped her arms tightly. "I am your normal life, Buffy. Last chance for it actually. How many guys do you think would be able to survive in this freak show you call reality? I can, and I can help you get out when the time is right."

"There is no out, Riley. You never got that, did you? " She looked at him as though she had never seen him before. Maybe she never really had. "There's a reason I'm called The Chosen One, not She Who Got to Choose. It's not a job for me, or an adventure; it's plain old destiny. You're the one with the weird hobby."

"You dated a vampire and you calling me weird?"

"I loved a man, a good man." She forced her arms away from her body to break his painful grasp. "Once upon a time I thought I could say the same about you, but I guess I was wrong."

Riley shook his head and addressed the heavens. "Doesn't matter how hard a guy tries, does it? No matter what I do, I just can't stack up to the vamp with a soul. No one can measure up to good old Angel, so why bother trying?"

Buffy glared at him. "That's right Riley; why even bother? You're not half the man he is, and you never will be." She turned on her heel and stalked away, not bothering to see if he was following her. In truth she was too busy being stunned by how good she felt. Free at last, free at last.

Riley watched her head for the older section of the cemetery, a place where no vamps were likely to rise, but also a place far removed from his unwelcome self.

"Angel, Angel, Angel," he chanted angrily, pacing back and forth. "It always come back to Angel."

"It does indeed, my dear," said a silky voice from behind him.

* * * * *

Buffy heard a yelp come from the newer section of the cemetery, where she assumed Riley was still sulking. Part of her wanted to write it off as a pathetic bid for attention, but the slayer in her demanded that she investigate.

When she reached the monument where she had last seen him, there was no sign of Riley. A careful sweep of the grounds revealed no trace of the former commando at all, including the car she knew he must have driven to the cemetery. She could almost sense a presence in the area, like a tickle in the back of her mind, but there were no detectable signs of life, or undeath. On the plus side, there was also no sign of a fight, which made the whole pathetic bid for attention idea seem more likely.

Finally she abandoned her search, resolving to call him after they both had a chance to cool off. She put her crossbow up on her shoulder and headed back to Revello Drive, savoring her guilty, but delicious, freedom.

* * * * *

Alone in the darkness she who waited, smiled.

****

Buffy yawned and stretched, enjoying the scent of the early morning breeze drifting in through her open windows. A glance at her clock radio assured her of a few more blissful minutes of lounging, and a tantalizing feeling of accomplishment gave her a nice warm glow. She just couldn't recall the reason for that glow in her first drowsy moments of consciousness.

Suddenly it came to her, propelling her bolt upright in the bed. Riley, she'd broken up with Riley. Why did that give her the old "job well done" feeling, when all it meant was that she was alone? Alone was a lifestyle choice she had promised herself never to try again. Anything was better than the single life. If she ever doubted that, all she had to do was look at her mom. In Joyce Summers' book, even a FrankenTed was better than celibacy.

Buffy groaned and threw the blankets over her head as she flopped back down on the bed. She had to call Riley, apologize to him, and see if she could make things right. He would forgive her, she was sure of it.

And when he did, everything would go back to the way it was last year, the little voice in her brain whispered as she reached from under the covers for the phone. Back to playing "the cheerleader and the quarterback go to college." Spordelia rides again.

Buffy's hand wavered over the phone.

"Buffy! Breakfast is ready!"

Joyce's voice echoing up the stairwell made Buffy's decision for her. She snatched her hand away from the phone and flung back the covers on the bed. Joyce always told her the world made much more sense after a good breakfast, and who was Buffy Summers to say her mother was wrong? Riley could wait; he would always be waiting for her, whether she wanted him to or not.

"Now where the hell did that come from?" she snapped at the trouble-making little voice inside her.

This time, there was no answer.

* * * * *

Buffy didn't really expect Riley to show up at her door offering a ride to school, but she was still a little surprised when eight a.m. arrived and he didn't. He usually was not so easy to get rid of.

Fortunately Xander had both classes and a car that morning, so Riley's uncharacteristic grudge holding didn't create a problem. Confusion perhaps, but not a problem.

She moved from class to class, determinedly focusing on her studies, and finding it surprisingly easy to push Riley back into a quiet corner of her mind for later processing. It wasn't until she saw Graham on the quad that she remembered her would-be ex-boyfriend and his strange absence from her day thus far.

"Buffy!" Graham called to her when he saw her. He hurried over to join her, a scowl marring his usually pleasant features. "Will you tell that slack-ass Finn to get back and police his stuff in our room? I am not going to spend the next semester tripping over his boxes just because lover-boy can't tear himself away from you long enough to finish unpacking."

Buffy shook her head, ruthlessly suppressing a twinge of alarm. "I don't know what you're talking about, Graham. I haven't seen Riley since last night. Early last night," she emphasized. "He followed me out on patrol but we had a…I mean, he had to quit early."

Graham scratched his head. "Well, I saw his car in the lot this morning, but he didn't make it back to the room. I tell you, I was half-expecting to wake up to find you there too this morning, but no you and no Riley. Where do you think he spent the night?"

Graham suddenly realized the implications of his question and smothered a grin. He had never liked Buffy, particularly after the fall of the Initiative, and this time it seemed that payback was going to be a bitch meeting a bitch.

"Sorry, that's a big 10 on the stump-Buffy meter," she replied as casually as possible. She could see the thoughts running through Graham's head, and she desperately hoped he was right. If Riley had found another bed and bed-partner last night, not only was he safe, but she also wouldn't have to feel this terrible guilt at the way she had behaved towards him.

On the down side she would be, once again, Buffy the Hideous Dateless Monster.

"Look, just let me know if he calls or anything," she said at last, in the face of Graham's no longer concealed smile. "It honestly doesn't matter if he...but this is Sunnydale, and when the weird come to party, someone usually doesn't make it home alive."

* * * * *

Buffy ditched her last class of the day and begged a ride from Xander over to Willie's Alibi Room. He wasn't too enthusiastic about spending his free afternoon visiting a demon hangout, but one look at Buffy's set face decided him.

The dimly lit bar was almost empty when Buffy and Xander strode in. Willie glanced up from the table he was cleaning off and grimaced, but common sense quickly compelled him to portray something more closely resembling enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite slayer," he said loudly, casting a meaningful glance at a couple of customers in the corner booth. He looked away quickly, trying not to draw any more suspicion to them. The hasty scrape of boot heels and the whoosh of the emergency door opening told him his warning had been both heard and understood.

"Relax, Willie," Buffy said dryly. "I'm not on patrol. I'm on a fact-finding mission and you're the man just full of interesting demon-related facts."

Willie backed up slowly towards the safety of the bar, never letting the tensed slayer out of his sight.

"Facts, huh? Are you looking for the average length of a Fyarl demon's horns or a vamp's drink of choice after the human blood is tapped out? I got those kind of facts right at my fingertips, so to speak." He smiled nervously as he pointed to the assorted bottles arrayed behind the bar.

Buffy slowly moved over to the bar and draped herself across it, leaning in uncomfortably close to Willie's face. Xander remained by the door, ready to grab Willie if he tried to escape. Assuming, of course, that the bits Buffy let past her were capable of independent motion.

"I'm looking for new players in town, Willie," she said very softly. "Something that hangs out in cemeteries and is very tidy with its captures. Doesn't leave even a gum wrapper behind. I think it took..." she paused for a moment. "It took a friend of mine last night," she said after careful deliberation.

Xander looked at her in alarm. She hadn't told him why they needed to go to Willie's, only that she needed a ride. He began to mentally review his friends, trying to recall when and where he had last seen each of them.

"Look, kid, they don't all check in with me," Willie stammered. "This isn't a hotel; it's a bar. If they don't feel the need to socialize, they don't come a calling."

"No," she agreed slowly, "but they never seem to work alone, and someone must have gotten thirsty."

Willie stared at her for a moment, estimating his chances of successfully lying to her, and the relative consequences when she inevitably found him out.

"Okay kid, there is a new guy setting up house," he said with a sigh. He held up a cautionary hand when he saw her open her mouth to speak. "This is all rumor, you understand. I haven't laid eyes on the big ugly yet, I've just heard talk. He's a Belos demon; used to be one of the Tarakan crowd, but he retired. He's in the assassination game just for giggles now. And word is...he's looking to spend some serious playtime with your old commando buddies."

* * * * *

Buffy hurried over to Willow's apartment, knowing her friend didn't have another class until the evening. She pounded impatiently on the door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for a response.

My fault, my fault, the voice in her head whispered over and over. If he's in trouble it's all my fault.

Tara opened the apartment door slowly, frightened by the noise. She hesitantly poked her head between the door and the frame, and then pulled the door open wide when she realized Buffy was the source of the commotion.

"Buffy, come in." Tara smiled shyly and ushered Buffy in as she called out, "Willow, Buffy's here."

"Sorry for all the noise," Buffy apologized with a faint smile. "I just really need to talk to Will." She glanced anxiously around the living room. "My world is both topsy and turvy at the moment and I need a little of that Willow magic to make sense of it all."

"Did I hear someone mention magick?" Willow asked eagerly as she hurried in from the bedroom. "Don't tell me you want to put a 'please pass me' spell on one of your profs already," she teased.

Buffy sighed and threw herself into Tara's beanbag chair. "I wish it was that simple, Will. I'm not in a spell seeking mood; I just need you to talk me out of something that I know is the wrong thing to do but it's also the first thing I thought of and it really is the only thing to do with Giles being out of town although even if he were here I still think I'd need..." She paused, both to catch her breath and to gauge Willow's reaction thus far.

A blank stare was the best way she could think to describe her friend's expression.

"And you have no idea what I'm babbling about, do you?"

Willow shook her head sadly. "Not a clue, but I'll try to help anyway. Just tell me what I'm supposed to say." She sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to her, silently urging Tara to stay with them.

Buffy scrambled her way out of the beanbag chair and began to pace. "Tell me I shouldn't be worried about Riley because he disappeared from the cemetery last night without a word and hasn't been seen since. Tell me I'm being paranoid to think that he was attacked by a demon because I left him unprotected." She stopped and faced Willow. "And tell me I'm completely crazy for thinking I need to ask Angel to help me find him before it's too late."

"Ooh bad idea, Buffy," Willow replied, shaking her head emphatically. "I can't argue about the paranoid thing, because this is Sunnydale and we know what kind of stuff can happen to someone alone in a cemetery at night. But Angel? I mean, asking your ex to help you find your boyfriend; isn't that kind of…" she hesitated, searching for a tactful way to express herself.

"Cruel," Tara said softly. She seemed as surprised by the word as either of her companions, but she did not retract or rephrase her opinion.

"I know, I know," Buffy groaned, throwing herself in the squashy chair once again. "I'm the horrible-est of horrible ex's for even thinking it, but I don't know of anyone else who can help. Riley wouldn't just wander off without a word."

My fault, my fault, the voice whispered again.

"But can't we help?" Willow gestured to Tara. "You know Tara and I will, and Xander too, and even Anya. We'll all help. We took care of Adam without Angel, or Riley for that matter."

"Would Angel even be willing to help?" Tara asked curiously. "It is kind of above and beyond the call."

"Oh, he'd help," Willow replied confidently. She looked sharply at Buffy. "He'd help even if it killed him, which it probably will, one way or another. Buffy this just isn't like you. It's so not fair to him."

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning the look on Angel's face when he realized why she had come to find him. She knew the pain that would be there, because she would feel it every bit as deeply herself. She knew the rejection that would flash across his dark eyes, to take root in his gentle soul.

But she also knew Riley would die if she didn't help him, and that had to come first now. She owed it to him, that and more.

"I wish there was another way." She reluctantly opened her eyes and shook her head. "According to Willie, we're talking about a demon who thought the Tarakans were a little too much on the warm and fuzzy side. No offense, but I need more than a few spells and some nicely carved stakes this time. I need ripping limb from limb from tentacle type help."

Willow gulped, but she rallied quickly. Being a Slayer's friend is not for the faint of heart.

"What about Spike? He's almost as strong as Angel is and he really likes killing demons. Well, he likes killing period, but he doesn't mind if it's demons."

"I can't trust Spike with this, Will. We're talking about helping Riley. Not exactly number one on Spike's 'to do" list."

"And you think Angel is going to be doing the happy dance about it?" When Buffy didn't respond beyond a helpless shrug, Willow tried again.

"Buffy, you know I'm with you no matter what. One for all and all for...okay, so that was the Musketeers actually, but you know what I mean. I just think you're going to regret this. You should let us help you. Leave Angel alone."

It was the fair thing to do; Buffy knew that. She had asked Angel to stay out of her life, and pledged to stay out of his. She had help ready, willing and somewhat able. There was no reason she should disturb whatever semblance of peace Angel had achieved with an unquestionably selfish request that would only bring him pain.

"But...but will our help be enough to save Riley? Isn't that the most important question?"

Tara's quiet comment forced Buffy's attention back to her goal. She had to focus on Riley. Angel could protect himself; he was strong and immortal and he would always be there. He had to be. She could not imagine a world without him in it. But Riley was weak and human and he needed, no, he deserved her protection and care.

"Buffy, I know you must be worried sick about him, but that's no reason to put Angel's life on the line too. I can't believe you're even suggesting it." Willow tried to look into Buffy's eyes, but the Slayer determinedly avoided her gaze.

Willow was right; there was no reason, except that Angel was still the one she instinctively turned to in times of trouble. No matter how things had changed between them, no matter what they had said or done to each other, he was the one she would count on first, last and always.

And therein lay the chief source of her guilt.

"I'm going to LA, Will."

* * * * *

It was well after midnight when she reached Angel's apartment building. Hitchhiking hadn't been nearly as fast a mode of travel as she had expected, but she hated buses and driving was not an option. No one trusted her with a car anymore.

She thanked her latest Good Samaritan for the lift as she got out of his car and indulged in a small stretch before she turned to face the building…only to be confronted by a great yawning emptiness. She glanced at the street sign, guessing she was in the wrong place, but the sign was correct. She looked to the other side of the street, but the building wasn't there either.

Finally she forced herself to cross the road, coming to a stop at the edge of the desolate patch of pavement and earth where a building had once stood. In the flickering light of a faulty street lamp she caught a glimpse of bright yellow lying half-hidden in the dirt. She bent down to pick it up, running it through her hands to convince herself of its existence and solidity. It was police tape, the kind they put up at the site of disasters, natural or otherwise.

Buffy clenched her hand into a fist, crumpling the police tape as she tried to deny what it meant. Information, she needed information. A whole building didn't just disappear without someone knowing how. There was a perfectly reasonable, non-catastrophic, explanation for all this.

And the ashes mixed in with the dirt were pure coincidence.

Buffy looked frantically up and down the street for signs of life, but there were none. The tenants in the office buildings had long since gone home, and the homeless who called this street theirs by night had not yet arrived. At last Buffy remembered seeing an all-night coffee shop back about two blocks. They were local; they would know the scoop. At the very least they would have a phone book so she could locate Cordelia. If anyone would be able to cast a refreshing dose of sanity into this madness, it would be Cordy. Buffy took off at a dead run, trying to stay one step ahead of her deepest fears.

* * * * *

Cordelia buried her head under her pillow, trying to drown out the pounding on her door. When the noise did not abate, she grabbed a second pillow, but still the banging resounded through her skull.

"Dennis!" she yelled, heaving the pillows across the room. "Whoever it is, go do the Caspar thing and get rid of them. I need my rest!"

There was a momentary silence, then the pounding resumed.

Cordelia furiously threw herself out of her bed and grabbed for a robe. The lights conveniently switched on as she made her way though her apartment to the door, giving her one more cause to glare at the empty air around her.

"Oh, so you are up; you're just afraid to answer the door," she grumbled. "Who is it; Virginia Woolf?" She swerved to avoid a carelessly placed bearing wall and stumbled into the living room.

"Cordelia, open up!" a voice pleaded from the other side of the front door.

She pulled open the door, not believing her eyes when she saw Buffy leaning against the doorframe.

"Well, now I know why Dennis wasn't any help," Cordelia said slowly. "He only plays Amityville Horror house on the men in my life. But why you're here in the middle of the night is still a stumper."

Buffy brushed past her as she walked into the apartment. She spun around to face the stunned Cordelia, not wasting any time on useless pleasantries.

"Where is he? How is he? Is he…okay?" Her voice broke just slightly on the last word; she'd had too many visions of ways he could be not okay on the long cab ride over to Cordelia's.

"How is who?" Cordelia asked, brushing her hair back from her eyes as she stared at Buffy. She hadn't seen the Slayer so distraught since..."Oh, how is Angel. Of course. Umm, fine, I guess. I can't raise him on the cell phone but he probably let the battery run down again. But I'm sure he'll be back in time to take me to David Nabbit's party on Friday or he is going to be one sorry little vamp...hey!" Cordelia was physically jerked into full consciousness by Buffy's hands on the lapels of her robe.

"I saw his apartment," Buffy said through clenched teeth. A vision of it flashed through her mind, fueled by the story she'd heard at the coffee shop where she'd gone for information. "A bomb took it out, Cordelia. There was nothing left, not even rubble."

"Wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me something I don't know." Cordelia scowled at Buffy, until she noticed the dried tears on the Slayer's face. "Oh, wait! You didn't know. Well, now that I think of it, why would you?" She pushed Buffy's hands off her robe and smiled; mystery solved. "Anyway, the bomb didn't take it all out. The wrecking crew did some too."

"Why didn't anyone tell me? I got there and I saw…there was nothing there but police tape and...ashes...and the waitress at the coffee shop said there was a bomb and...are you sure he's okay?" She frantically searched Cordelia's face for any signs of evasiveness.

"Look, he's fine, last I knew. I mean I'm sure he still is. Staying in a cheap motel, but fine." Cordelia curled up on the couch and gestured for Buffy to take a seat as well, but the Slayer was still too wired to settle down. Cordelia sighed and tried to think of calming things to say to the pacing lioness in her den.

"He wasn't even there when it blew," she explained. "He was coming back from visiting me in the hospital. Wesley was there alone, but Angel went in and rescued him. We're all good; thanks for asking," she finished pointedly.

Buffy stopped pacing and gazed at her blankly for a moment. "What? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm glad no one else was hurt, but it's just…when I saw and when I heard I thought..." she flung herself into a chair and covered her face with her hands. "It's been a really bad day," she mumbled through her fingers.

"So you decided to share your pain with me. How special," Cordelia said acidly. "Look Buffy, I don't know why you were looking for Angel at this hour anyway, and I really don't care. He's not here, so darn!" She snapped her fingers and grimaced in assumed sympathy. "I guess you'll have to postpone your little mental S&M games for another visit and go back home to the Sergeant of Sigma Chi. Have a nice trip!" She walked over to the door and began opening it.

"What are you talking about? I came here for help, Cordelia, nothing else."

Cordelia's hand dropped from the doorknob as she turned to stare at Buffy with icy disdain. "Yeah, uh huh, and last spring you just came because you were so worried about him." Cordelia took a few steps towards the Slayer, waving her hands dramatically as she spoke. "He was a wreck when you left, Buffy. I don't want to be picking little tiny bits of that soul of his off the carpeting anymore, so I'd appreciate it if you leave before he gets back into town. Go ask the boys of Kappa Kappa Death to help you. Aren't they your hunting buddies now?"

She gestured to the partially open door, but Buffy didn't seem inclined to cooperate. Not without getting what she came for, anyway.

"Where is he, Cordy? You know he would want you to tell me." Buffy's voice dropped to a pleading whisper. "I'm not the enemy, Cordelia."

"That is a matter of opinion," Cordelia replied loftily. "I admit you may have saved my life a few times, Buffy. Of course I probably wouldn't have been in danger at all if it weren't for you, so that's only worth maybe half a point. And I know you've saved the world, yadda, yadda, yadda, but again you were usually the one the bad guys were after anyway." She mimicked weighing objects in an invisible scale. "So bottom line? Angel is family; you're not. I'm more concerned about what you'll do to him than about the boogey man after you."

That remark stung. For a moment, Buffy wondered if Angel felt the same way about Cordelia. Once upon a time, Buffy had been all the family he needed or wanted.

"We made with the nice, Cor. All is forgiven, forgotten, whatever." She had to move on; Riley was depending on her. "I know he wouldn't mind me coming to him for help." Buffy crossed her fingers behind her back as she spoke.

"Only you get to do the forgetting, Buffy," Cordelia replied cryptically. "And as for the forgiving, he was the one who went to you, even though you deserved every word Wesley told me he said. And you have no idea how hard I tried to keep him from coming after you. I knew it would lead to no good, and I was right, as usual." She threw up her hands, at a loss to understand why a man as bright as Angel would know so little of the world around him.

"Cordelia, this is a matter of life and death," Buffy said urgently. "You've lived on the hellmouth; you know that's not just a plug for tourism. Remember the Order of Taraka? I have a renegade one in town. I need Angel. Now. Where is he?"

Cordelia eyed Buffy sourly, weighing the desperation in the Slayer's eyes against the inevitable desolation in Angel's eyes when she dropped him yet again. She wanted to put Buffy out on the street right now, before Angel got sucked into another whirlpool of brood-inducing angst. Unfortunately, she now served a higher power, and she knew that sometimes professional considerations outranked personal ones.

"All right," she sighed grudgingly. "He's about two hours north of here on a stakeout with a guy named Gunn. They're trying to catch a human, who is, coincidentally, trying to form his own little Tarakan fraternity." She shrugged. "Guess they're in season."

* * * * *

Buffy found herself pounding on yet another strange door a few hours later. Once again, her thumb had provided her a means of transportation, but not a quick one. She gazed at the dark sky above her, estimating dawn to be scarcely more than an hour away now. Angel should be in the motel room, if he had any sense of self-preservation.

A door opened slightly, but it was not the one to Angel's room. The door next to his was answered by a strange young black man who seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Somehow she knew this was Gunn, even though she'd assumed he would be older. This man was actually more of a boy; too young and groggy, in her opinion, to offer much protection or assistance to Angel.

Gunn rubbed his head as he tried to push the fog from his brain. Strangers usually meant trouble, from his experience, but this girl looked about as dangerous as a house cat. Of course, so did a vamp until the teeth came out.

"Is this Angel's room?" she asked hesitantly, nodding at the closed door in front of her. "If it is, you're probably Gunn." She stepped over to talk to him face to face.

"Umm, yeah, on both counts," he said slowly. "Which puts you two up on me. Who might you be?"

He did not invite her in to his room yet; he was still trying to assess body temperature and pulse from a safe distance. He flipped the wall switch next to the door and stared at her neck.

"I'm Buffy," she said confidently. When he still looked blankly at her, her smile began to waver. "I'm a...a friend of Angel's. And Wesley and Cordelia too. I'm guessing Angel isn't back yet. Can I come in for a minute?"

His quick eyes caught the briefest flicker of motion in the vein running beneath an old scar on her throat. He stepped back and waved her in.

"Yeah, come on in till he gets back." Gunn peered out into the parking lot before he closed and locked the door. "Should be any time now."

Buffy sighed as she tossed her backpack on the bed that did not appear to be in use. "Figures. He never did have any sense of time," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"So you're a friend of Angel's," he speculated. "Not too many of those around." He sat down on the other bed and pulled his T-shirt on over his head. "Course a lot of them do seem to be ladies," he said suggestively when his head re-emerged.

"I'll bet," she replied dryly. "You're his friend too, though. Or is there something you're not telling me?" She sat down next to her backpack and began playing with one of the straps.

"I'm not a friend," he said quickly. He got to his feet and reached for his duffel bag at the foot of the bed. "This is strictly business. Sometimes I need a hand, sometimes he does. No one is ever going to say I'm friends with a..." he stopped, suddenly unsure of how much she knew.

"Vampire," she finished with a sad smile, when she realized he was not going to use the word.

"So you do know. Man, that guy can't beat them off with a stick or fangs." Gunn shook his head. "Is it the coat or what?"

Buffy grinned and opened her mouth to reply when she heard a knock on the door behind her. She spun around, Gunn suddenly a dim memory.

* * * * *

Angel couldn't believe his eyes.

He'd spent a long, boring night watching a would-be assassination ringleader doing nothing to perfect his craft, and all he wanted to do now was climb into bed and try to forget the meaning of the word "immortal."

When he reached his door he put the key in the lock, and then he stopped. He felt a shiver in his human soul that only bore one explanation, but it wasn't possible. He felt the doorknob; still locked. He wasn't sure what made him look to Gunn's closed door, but before he could stop himself he was knocking on it.

Gunn opened the door a moment later and made some comment as he stepped back to let Angel enter, but Angel couldn't hear him. All he could do was look at her.

She was sitting on one of the beds, looking tired and slightly rumpled, but always beautiful in his eyes. There was a hesitant smile on her face, as though she was glad to see him, but unsure of her welcome. He drank in the sight of her, matching details against his memory, storing them up for the long and solitary nights ahead.

"Angel," he heard her say softly, placing just the tiniest lilt in his name that no one else could.

"Buffy," he breathed, still not quite believing this was real.

"And I'm Gunn, so now we all know who's who," came a voice from the distance.

Angel shook his head and glanced from his beloved to his companion for the requisite explanation. He had a feeling it was going to be a doozy.

Buffy stood up, but made no move to approach Angel. She eyed him warily, still obviously not assured of his goodwill.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said slowly. "I know you're working. I just need...I need some help, back home." She glanced at Gunn. "It's kind of personal, but I really need you to come back with me."

"And on that note," Gunn said swiftly, "I'm out of here. Umm, Buffy, right? Hey, it's been real, but I'm thinking you'll spill on why you're here a whole lot faster if I'm just a memory." Gunn grabbed his bag and brushed past Angel on his way to the door. Angel stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?"

Buffy waved her hand, trying to attract Angel's attention. "I think I need to, well, freshen up and do the girly stuff. You know." She vanished into the bathroom, leaving Gunn to face Angel alone.

"First, since the phones in this lousy motel don't work worth a damn, I'm gonna drive two hours back to LA to wake up Wesley. Then he and I will take turns watching the world's most boring bad guy while you help America's sweetheart there. Have fun, man." Gunn opened the door, then turned back with his hand outstretched. "Keys to the Batmobile. Don't make me rely on stereotypes and hotwire it."

Angel grinned unwillingly as he fished the keys from the pocket of his leather duster. "Will you and Wes be okay here together?" He quirked an eyebrow at his young companion. "Remember, you break him; you bought him."

"Hey, you just worry about your own ass. Make sure you steal a blanket to keep from going poof in her backseat on the drive. She may have left the car vac in the Porsche."

"Very funny. She's not like that."

"Whatever. Go find the dire in small town America. Maybe Susie got a hickey and you're the only one who can show her how to hide it from the Homecoming committee." He looked sharply at Angel, sensing there was more to the story than he wanted to know. "Or maybe I should go back with your girl to fight the big bad and leave you here with Wes."

"She's not my girl," Angel said reluctantly, staring at the little silver ring on his hand that had somehow survived hundreds of years in hell, only to draw him back to what sometimes seemed a greater one. He raised his head when the full measure of Gunn's words penetrated his consciousness. "And trust me, if Buffy's here asking for my help, it's bigger than you want to mess with. LA is a cakewalk compared to the hellmouth."

"The hell what?"

"Hellmouth," Buffy said from the bathroom doorway. "It's a never-ending source of entertainment. You should get one. Beats Disneyland with one tentacle tied around its back."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Gunn regarded her uneasily for a moment before he returned his attention to Angel. "Okay, Plan A it is. I'll be back in a couple of hours," he promised as he slipped out the door.

There was a moment of silence in the wake of Gunn's departure. Angel turned around slowly to face Buffy, but he didn't know what to say. She had been so clear about maintaining the distance between them, and he had agreed it was for the best. Yet here she was, in his motel room. Here they both were, alone at last.

"Well, here we are, alone at last," she said in an unwitting echo of his thoughts. "Umm, Gunn seems like a nice guy, I guess. Not really a member of your fan club, but then you don't tend to score as well with the male demographic."

Angel opted for the direct approach. This reunion could not last for long; he knew that. There was no point wasting painful moments re-establishing bonds only destined to be severed.

"Why don't we go next door to my room and you can tell me why you're here, Buffy. What happened that's so urgent you had to come to me for help, of all people?"

He wanted to reach out and shake her for crashing into his world again, but he was afraid if he got any closer all he would do was pull her into his arms and never let go. Whatever she needed, he could not deny her. He might have learned to stand up for himself when she attacked him, but standing by her would always come first.

Buffy flinched at the helpless tone in his voice. She had been wrong, so wrong to come here. She was suddenly more afraid of him agreeing to help than turning her down. He worked so hard to build a life apart from hers, but she knew all she had to do was ask and he would give it up in an instant.

"I shouldn't have come," she said raggedly.

She snatched her backpack off the bed, but he blocked her exit when she tried to slide past him.

"Don't go," he said softly. "Tell me what's wrong."

She looked up into his painfully expressive eyes, the ones that always glowed when they rested on her. She had never truly seen a person's face "light up" until she met Angel, and it tore at her heart to see that same glow still shine beneath the layers of quiet pain.

"I thought I wanted to ask you for help, but I was wrong. I can't; it's not fair."

"Fair to whom?" The voice was still gentle and reassuring as he guided her out the door and into his room.

She stood in the center of the room, sneaking glances at all the pieces of Angel's new life, the one he was building without her. This should have been just a cold, impersonal motel room, but she could feel him everywhere. His scent was in the clothes spilling halfway out of a duffel bag laying on one of the twin beds, it was on the sheets of the other bed, it even emanated from deep within the book on the nightstand. He was all around her, invading her senses until she grew dizzy from the overload.

"It's not fair to you." She couldn't meet his eyes. "I didn't know who else could help me; I'm not sure anyone can. But it's not right for me to ask you to do this."

She wasn't sure which of them she was trying to convince. She knew he was her only chance, because together they were invincible. Without Angel, Riley was lost.

Almost as lost as she was without Angel.

"Buffy, if you need my help, then someone is in trouble, and it must be someone pretty important to you. The way we left things...well, it was better than it could have been, but I didn't really think I'd be seeing you again."

He didn't bother to say how that thought had torn at him, savaging his heart in both waking and sleeping hours. He had accepted the pain as his due, but nothing could assuage it until a chance encounter with an ancient prophecy spilled the faintest gleam of light into his uncertain future. It had become his only real hope of seeing her again.

"I wasn't so sure either," she confessed. "I hoped I would, but...I didn't really think so."

"So why now? Who's in trouble?"

Angel's dark eyes regarded her gently, the love in them a constant she could always draw strength from. He had looked at her just so, in the moments before she drove the sword into his belly and sent him to a realm of everlasting torture. This time it was she who had to close her eyes before the final blow.

"It's Riley," she said slowly. "I think he's been taken by demons and I need your help to get him back."

* * * * *

"Riley," Angel said flatly. He ran a hand through his spiky dark hair as he tried to process Buffy's surprising revelation. "You came here to ask me to help you rescue Riley. Your boyfriend. The ex-demon hunter. That is what you said, right?" He looked at her pleadingly, suddenly buoyed by the hope that maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding.

Buffy opened her eyes, their shamed, yet half-defiant expression swiftly killing his hope.

"Yes, that's what I said." She had to force the words past the ache in her throat, but for Riley's sake she persevered. "There's a Belos demon in town, and Riley is missing and you know as well as I do the word 'coincidence' isn't on Sunnydale High vocab tests for a reason and I really need..." she paused for a breath. Gathering her courage, she looked him straight in the eye. "I need your help."

"A Belos," Angel mused, trying to ignore his jealousy at her concern. Her boyfriend was missing; of course she was upset. She was supposed to be. That was why he left her, so she could meet someone new and care about him and worry about him and love..."A Belos," he repeated helplessly.

She nodded. "He was one of the Taraka, but Willie says he got bored and retired. Went into business for himself. His latest amusement seems to be demon-hunters."

"Like your pals from the Initiative." Angel looked sharply at Buffy, but didn't say anything more about the former commando group. A part of him still could not believe she could have been a part of such an organization, dedicated to treating demons like so many lab rats, without regard for their potential 'humanity.'

"Yeah, apparently they make the perfect Christmas gift for the Tarakan who has everything."

"And you're sure he has Riley?"

"No, I'm not sure," she snapped. Anger was good; anger was easier to handle than guilt or shame. "I'm not sure of anything, including why I thought you'd help me. I'll just be going now and you can go back to your nice little new life in LA free from the problems of a neurotic ex-girlfriend."

She glared at him as he stood stolidly between her and the door, but instead of moving out of her way he stepped back a pace, completely blocking the door.

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "Not without me, anyway. You came to me for help and you knew I'd give it. There was never any question of that, Buffy, no matter who it is that needs rescuing." He couldn't resist one jab in the name of his pride. "It's not like I'd be doing it for him, you know."

"Well don't do me any favors!" She threw her backpack on the bed and rested a hand on each hip. Obviously he was looking for a fight and she was more than ready to give him one.

"I didn't say I would be doing it for you either," he lied through clenched teeth. "This is my job, remember?"

She stared at him for a moment longer, trying to fan the flames of her fury. With Angel she never feared the storm; she relished it. He could make her so angry she wanted to scream sometimes. Other times he could make her so sweetly content she thought she'd truly died and gone to heaven. But no matter how she felt with him, it was always incredibly intense. She had never felt so alive as when she was in the presence of this man for whom life had technically stopped over two centuries before.

"Fine, do it for your country for all I care," she sneered. "Just give me a hand and then we can go back to our separate lives like you always wanted."

Our separate, solitary, sterile lives, her heart continued when her voice failed her.

"I never wanted..." he stopped himself before he said too much. She was baiting him; he knew that. She always pushed and pushed at him, knowing he would fight back and eventually make her reveal the source of her anguish. But it wasn't his job anymore to heal her; that was Riley's. He couldn't get involved. He drew a deep breath, trying to push the past away before it dragged him under again.

"Let's just go. You can fill me in on the details while we drive."

He stepped back from the door at last, gesturing for her to precede him. She snatched up her backpack with one hand and swept past him, her head held high. He sighed as he grabbed the blanket off of his bed for protection from the upcoming daylight and followed her into the dimly lit parking lot.

They stood silently for a moment, each anxiously scanning the lot for the right car. At last, they reluctantly faced each other as the same question sprang to both minds.

"So where are you parked?"

Buffy looked at Angel strangely. "What do you mean 'where am I parked'? You're the one with the car."

"No," he said slowly, "Gunn took my car to get Wesley because you were going to drive us back to Sunnydale. Quit kidding around, Buffy. I'm not actually that fond of crouching in the back seat under a blanket, so I want to get as far as we can before sunrise."

Anything not to prolong this, he added silently.

"Well, then if I were you I'd start running now and hope for a cloudy day, because I don't have a car. Not here, not anywhere else." She crossed her arms and stared at him. "Why would you think I had a car?"

"You had to get here somehow," he pointed out, using what he felt was a marvelously calm voice, given the situation.

"I hitched," she explained. "Why would you even think I could drive? How do you know I have a license?" Her eyes narrowed with suspicion; he looked strangely guilty, even for Angel.

"You hitchhiked? Are you crazy?" He couldn't believe she would do something so foolish. "That's dangerous, Buffy."

She cocked her head and stared curiously at him. "Dangerous for who?" Before he could answer, she returned to her main concern. "And don't try to change the subject. How do you know I have a license?"

"Well Giles said...umm, why don't we continue this inside?" He tugged at her wrist, trying to draw her inside. She jerked her arm away and continued to stare at him.

"Giles said what? And Giles said when? And why is Giles saying anything to you about me?"

"Buffy, if we don't have a car to talk in, I really would prefer to continue this inside. I'm not a big fan of the dawn's early light." Angel didn't look to see if she was following him when he turned on his heel and walked back to his room. He was too busy trying to figure out a way to explain his transgressions that wouldn't land him on the wrong end of a broom handle.

The door slamming behind his back told him that broom idea wasn't so far-fetched after all. He still didn't face her; she was less likely to wail on him if his back was turned, and he needed time to regroup.

* * * * *

"Okay, spill. Why did Giles tell you I got my license this summer, and what else have you two been gabbing about behind my back?" She crossed her arms over her chest and impatiently tapped her foot. "Did he tell you about that nasty sunburn I got a few weeks ago? How about that cut on my arm from the fight with the Parantheon last Tuesday night?"

The blanket he had been clutching absentmindedly fell from his hands as Angel spun around and grabbed her wrists. "A Parantheon?" he asked urgently as he extended her arms and scanned her unblemished skin. "Did it spit acid on you, or did you just get grazed by a claw?"

Her anger vanished at the sight of his frantic concern. She relaxed her arms in his gentle grasp, enjoying the feel of his cool touch on her pulse points.

"Just a claw," she assured him. "I'm fine."

He reluctantly released her and stepped back, trying to distance himself both mentally and physically. He would always worry about her, but he couldn't let the concern get out of hand, he scolded himself. She wasn't his to protect any longer.

"I'm sorry, I just...well, I'm glad you're okay. And as you can tell, no, Giles didn't tell Wesley about the Parantheon. He talks to Wes," Angel explained, steadily holding her gaze. "Not me. But I think he knows, that is I think Wesley told him...I like to know you're doing all right." He looked away as he continued his confession. "So Wes asks how you are, and Giles always says 'fine,' but sometimes he says more than that. Then Wesley tells me and I...I'm happy for you."

"But in these little conversations nothing flows the other way, does it? It's just a one-lane information superhighway." Her temper suddenly flared as the memory of last night's scare resurfaced.

Angel glanced at her clenched jaw, and her seething eyes. Buffy was gone and the Slayer was back.

"I don't know what..." he stumbled, "Giles doesn't ask about me, if that's what you're asking. Why would he?"

"And Wes doesn't volunteer anything, does he," she said flatly. "Little tiny incidentals like your apartment building being blown up. Stuff like that. Things that could have killed you!" She was on him faster than lightning, grabbing his coat to keep him from fleeing, to keep him with her. "No, that one I had to find out on my own at one o'clock in the morning with no one around to tell me if the ashes in that dirt were actually you."

She released him with a shove as she turned away to hide her tears. A moment later she felt two strong arms slip around her, cradling her against the cool length of his body. A part of her wanted to push him away again, but the other, stronger part wanted to stay in this fragile bubble of time for as long as she could. She dropped her head as his lips delicately stirred the hair behind her ear.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," he crooned softly. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. But I didn't think you'd come here and I didn't want to worry you over nothing."

Something in Angel's voice troubled her. Buffy shifted slowly in his arms until she faced him, her hands lying flat upon his broad chest. Looking into the quiet depths of his dark eyes, she saw all the doubts he would never burden her with.

"You didn't think I would worry, did you?" she asked softly. "After all I said last spring, you were afraid I wouldn't really care."

Angel didn't answer, but she could see the truth in his face. Buffy reached up and gently cupped his cheek. His skin was cool, yet even the briefest contact seemed to warm it, giving the illusion of life restored by her touch.

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I saw that lot with nothing but police tape and ashes in it? I was scared to death." She stood on tiptoe, stretching up to kiss those lips that trembled ever so faintly at her words. "I thought that I'd really lost you this time."

Lost, lost, the voice in her head suddenly chanted. Angel is safe, but Riley is lost.

She gasped and struggled to get out of his arms when she realized what she, what they, had been about to do. Angel had been as lost in the moment as she had, and it took him an instant to understand her distress. As reality overtook him, he dropped his arms, and his head, in shame.

"I'm sorry," he said swiftly. He raised his head and took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. Her eyes widened in a kind of fear as she stumbled backwards. He held very still, trying not to do anything to further alienate her.

"We seem to say that a lot, don't we?" she asked breathlessly, running a hand through her long blonde locks as she tried to regain some semblance of control.

"Just the joy of being us," he agreed with a small smile.

He seemed to have no trouble calming down, she noted crossly. After a hundred years of practice living among humans, the watertight doors could clang shut in the blink of an eye.

"So, what do we do now? We don't have a car, and even if the buses came up this way, it wouldn't be for a few hours." She tossed her backpack on one of the beds again and perched uneasily on the edge.

If he could be Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected then so could she, she told herself stoutly. Okay, so not Mr., but at least Mrs. Calm, Cool and...no, not that either, never that, she inwardly sighed. If she could, she wouldn't be here.

"We could always try hitchhiking," she offered, not really expecting an answer.

Angel shrugged off his leather duster and sat down on the other bed. That was close, too close, he thought with an inward tremble. He could barely hear Buffy talking over the voice in his head that was berating him for being such an idiot. He had to get away from her now, immediately, before something more happened.

He was pretty sure the voice was that of his father. After all these centuries, the old boy still talked a pretty good game. And even from the depths of his shame, that voice still irritated the hell out of Angel.

"Since I think I might be more useful to you out of the ashtray, that's not really an option for me," he commented after a lengthy inner struggle. It gave him a perverse delight to disobey his phantom father's wishes. "Gunn should be back in a few hours with my car, so I think we have to just wait it out." He looked closely at her, noting the smudges under her large hazel eyes, the slight tremor in her delicate hand as she raised it to her face, the unaccustomed slouch in her slender...she looked tired, he decided hastily. "You look tired. When did you last get some sleep?"

"Last night," she confessed. "With the hitching, and the little side-trip to visit Cordy, it took me all night to find you."

"Why don't you lie down." He gestured to the bed she was sitting on. "Get some rest until Gunn and Wesley come back and we can head out."

She needed her rest; she needed to regain her strength, he told himself. His father's warnings were forgotten as he resolutely closed his mind to any other explanation for his invitation.

She looked uneasily from the demure twin beds to his sexily innocent face. "I really don't think that's a good idea." She squirmed slightly, trying not to imagine sleeping in the same room as Angel, feeling his body just a few feet away, wondering if he would draw closer as she slept, hoping that he..."You, me, one room?" she asked doubtfully.

Angel looked embarrassed as her meaning became clear, and he wondered why it had to be such a problem. It just seemed so natural.

Of course, he reflected, that was actually the problem. It felt too natural, even after all this time and space between them. Five minutes alone with his beloved and he was lost in the dream once again.

"Yeah, you're right," Angel said, his voice unintentionally husky. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more matter-of-fact. "Problem is, Gunn has his room key with him, and I really don't want to attract any intention while I'm on a stake-out by breaking into rooms." He raised his hand as she opened her mouth. "And before you say anything, there are no more rooms. It's a small motel in a very small town, there's a big dog race tomorrow, enough said."

"So, this is it. You, me, one room." She wasn't sure if she sounded too happy or too scared about the prospect; both emotions were fighting for dominance in her heart. "You know, we could always, umm, talk," she said hopefully.

"We have a lot to catch up on," he gravely agreed. "But why don't you get under the covers first. That way, when you fall asleep," he glanced shrewdly at her, "which looks to be in about ten minutes, you'll be comfortable."

"Good point." She slipped off her shoes and climbed up to the head of the bed, but she stopped when her hand touched the edge of the blanket. "Ugh. I've been wearing these clothes for like 24 hours now. By the time we get back to Sunnydale, I'm going to smell like a slime demon on a Saturday night. Much joy there."

Angel suppressed a smile as he removed his own boots. "Why don't you borrow one of my shirts to sleep in and wash your stuff out in the bathroom," he suggested. Casting an appraising eye over her lightweight, and slightly skimpy, clothes, he gently added, "They don't look like they'll take long to dry."

She smiled sourly at him; she had heard his comment on her wardrobe, or lack thereof, quite clearly even without words.

"This happens to be the latest in hitchhiking attire, I'll have you know. And just for that smart remark, I'm going to use up all the hot water in the shower," she promised him pertly. She held out her hand. "Shirt, please."

He fished in his duffel bag for a T-shirt, trying not to picture it clinging to her body, getting her scent on it. He wasn't letting the idea of her in the shower into his head at all. Despite his protests to the contrary, he really was only human.

He managed to control the tremble in his hand as he held out the shirt, but they both jumped when their hands connected as she took it from him.

"I won't...I won't really use up all the hot water," she said softly, just before she fled to the relative safety of the bathroom.

Sure and it's as if you'll be needing anything but cold water now, his father's voice mocked him.

Angel buried his head in his hands and groaned. This was going to be a very long day.

* * * * *

Buffy stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. What on earth was she doing here?

Riley, she was here to rescue Riley, she reminded herself. He was her boyfriend, well, sort of. He loved her and she loved...that is she needed...needed to find him because it was all her fault that he was in danger and he was only in danger because he loved her and she...couldn't stop thinking of Angel in the other room, the room with the beds.

Well, you were the one who wanted to feel again, her increasingly troublesome little voice whispered.

Buffy buried her head in her hands and groaned. This was going to be a very long day.

* * * * *

"It must have really hurt when he went back to that law firm," Buffy said softly. "I can tell that you thought he'd changed."

They had been talking for hours. Big stuff, small stuff, all the things they had missed in each other's lives; it was all food for the hungry soul. It almost seemed more like a dream than reality; being alone with Angel after so long apart, just the two of them hidden away from the world. And yet, there was still something missing.

Buffy shifted slightly under the covers of her vast and lonely twin bed. As she slid her hand under the pillow, she tried very hard not to remember what it felt like when she used to use Angel as her pillow. There was a little hollow in his shoulder, created just for her cheek, and she still remembered how cool his skin felt, until she warmed it with her own.

No! Bad Buffy, very bad.

She gave herself a mental shake. She couldn't let herself remember things like that right now; it would only ruin this temporary oasis of calm. In those few minutes before her shower they had come closer to the edge than she ever dared try again. Since then it had all been about stepping back. There was no other way for them anymore.

From across the narrow margin between the beds, Angel shrugged his shoulders and pulled the blanket up a little further on his chest to keep himself warm. When he answered Buffy, his voice was weary, but matter-of-fact.

"His choice. You can't make someone seek redemption. Maybe some day Lindsey will realize selling his soul to the highest bidder cost him more than a hand."

The Angel that Buffy remembered would have torn her heart out with those simple words, because she would have heard his underlying self-reproach. But at least the Buffy of old would have been able to hold him, and soothe him, and make the pain go away for a few minutes. Deep within her soul she would have known that he needed her, only her, and that she could make a difference in his life.

And then she would have gone home to her mother and her other life and left him alone with the memories. Maybe, for Angel's sake if not for Buffy's, it was a good thing that girl had disappeared somewhere along the way. Maybe there was something her own heartache and loss had taught her that could help him now.

"You were there for Faith, one hundred percent," she reminded him. "Okay, so maybe your technique was a little more hands-on than I would have liked..." she made her voice light to let him know she was teasing, "but you helped her get her act together."

"She wanted to change. I was just a handy punching bag while she figured things out."

Angel was desperately wishing for his own punching bag at this moment, or maybe just a handy wall to bang his head against. All that he had ever dreamed of was just two feet away, in a secluded motel room, waiting to claim him and be claimed. And he had to be strong and resist the temptation to cross that short distance between them, for her sake. He had to be content with whatever time Buffy, and Fate, could offer him, and use it wisely, or he would lose all that he had gained.

But oh, it would be so much easier if he could hit something.

"I guess you've gotten to play punching bag a lot in the last year, haven't you? I sure didn't miss my chance to take a swing." Buffy flipped onto her back, trying to avoid the sympathetic gaze she could literally feel on her skin.

"I've done my fair share of hitting back." When she didn't answer, he tried again. "It's done, Buffy; over. We're past it, right?"

She sighed deeply and turned to face him again. When had it all gone so wrong? It wasn't just Angelus, or even the curse itself; there was so much more that pulled the world out from under her feet. Had there been a way to stop it? Had there been a point where she could have turned it all around?

"I don't think either of us are very good at getting past stuff, Angel. Or over stuff or around stuff, for that matter. We just get through, somehow." She smiled faintly, knowing in the darkness he would be unable to see the accompanying tear slip gently from the corner of her eye.

"We will find him, Buffy."

His quiet reassurance took Buffy completely by surprise. She almost asked Angel who "him" was, but she stopped herself in time. They had been talking for hours without mention of Riley, or her purpose in seeking Angel out. After the initial post-showers awkwardness, they had fallen back into the old familiar patterns. If she closed her eyes she could almost picture them in front of the fireplace at the mansion on Crawford Street. Riley had no place in that world; it belonged to she and Angel alone.

"I know we will. I'm not worried." She swiftly dismissed his promise; there was too little time and too much to say. "Tell me more about this law firm, Angel; there's something about that whole set-up that gives me the wiggins. I mean, demons using lawyers? Who gets to complain about whose killer instinct?"

"We should try to get some sleep, Buffy." He wanted to say so many things to her, listen to all her confidences, share in the minutiae of her life, but he knew it was pointless. This was a little oasis, but the real world was coming back far too fast, and they needed to be prepared. He needed to let go of this dream before he was in too deep.

"But..."

"We need to rest," he reiterated gently. "We don't know what we'll be up against with this Belos demon, and we'll have to work fast."

His comment stung. She had been luxuriating in his company, willing to ignore the wishes of family and friends for the sake of time spent with him, and all he wanted was to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, I don't want to keep you away from all that LA night life for too long," she said bitterly. "Cordelia can't very well go to all of those pretentious Hollywood parties without an escort." She made a loud and extended production of flipping over on her other side to turn her back on him.

Angel wanted to say something brilliant, something that would soothe her hurt feelings and make everything right between them. But even if he knew what that something was what good would it do? What was right when it came to them was not being together at all; the alternative was simply too hard.

"Sleep tight, love," he whispered to her back.

* * * * *

She was having the dream again.

It always started out so beautifully; just she and Angel on the beach in each other's arms. They kissed, they talked, and then they kissed some more. Time spun away, and when she came back down on earth, they were in his apartment. They spent hours there, lying intertwined on his big bed, touching, tasting, exploring. Suddenly they could fulfill any hope, any desire, because nothing was forbidden except tears.

It was beyond magical; it was real.

And then, as always in their lives, the enormous sucking evil came and stole their happiness away. She clung to Angel with every ounce of her slayer's strength, but it was never tightly enough to save him.

She awoke with a gasp, still reaching out for phantom Angel's hands. She drew a few deep breaths and wiped away the tears still clinging to her lashes before she looked over at him.

Only a faint sliver of daylight slipped into the room between the heavy curtains over the window. She could just make out the faint impression of his body on the other bed, but she knew what was happening from the sounds he was making.

So he still had the nightmares.

When Angel returned from Hell, he had been plagued by nightmares. Every night, sometimes more than once, he fought off horrors only his tortured mind could fathom. Eventually the nightmares had dwindled, but they never completely went away. He found it hard enough to outrun the ghosts of his past in his waking moments; when sleep claimed him he lost all his carefully built defenses. Only one thing could ever stand between him and the dark memories that tormented him.

Buffy slowly pushed back the covers and slid off her bed. She stood for a moment in the infinite space that separated them, watching him wrestle with inner demons more powerful than any vampire. Her hand dropped to peel away the blanket that covered him, and with a sigh she slipped into bed beside him.

He didn't awaken; he didn't even seem to notice her subliminally at first. He still tossed and groaned and wrung her heart, until she grasped one of his wrists and pulled his arm around her waist. She turned on her side and spooned up against him, holding his body firmly against hers. He fought her for a moment, and then something broke through the barriers. Perhaps it was the beat of her heart against his chest, or the scent of her skin, but whatever it was it reached him even in the depths of slumber. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and slid his other arm around her, capturing her in a prison from which she never wished to escape.

Even as Angel's tense muscles began to relax, Buffy could feel the icy core within her begin to melt. The same succor he found in their embrace warmed her as well, and the last shreds of her nerveless shell dissolved.

She had forgotten how closely woven joy and pain, light and dark, can be. How could they ever completely separate two souls so hopelessly entangled? As Angel slept, Buffy shed quiet tears, mourning the peace she could only find in the arms of a man she could never have.

* * * * *

Angel awoke slowly, reluctantly abandoning his strangely tranquil dreams for his less than pleasant reality. It was so hard to let go; he felt warm and relaxed and utterly content, things he hadn't felt in a very long time. In fact his only source of discomfort seemed to be a piece of hair in his mouth.

He was too sleepy to speculate on the how's and why's; he only wanted to remove the offending lock. This required a free hand however, and the arm he instinctively tried to move seemed to be weighted down. He blearily opened his eyes and beheld his obstacle, in the shape of a small blonde girl sleeping trustfully in his embrace.

"Buffy?" he whispered. "Oh, god, please no!" He drew back slightly as he quickly tried to review his memories of their quiet morning. He could not recall her being in his bed at any point. If she climbed in, as she obviously must have, it was after he fell asleep.

They were safe. Or as safe as they could be given such close proximity.

"Buffy, you need to wake up." He gently shook her shoulder, leaning over her to whisper in her ear. He didn't want to wake her; it felt so right to be lying here intertwined. He may have been the one to walk away, but home for him would always lie within her arms.

She had another home, though, and someone else to share it with.

"Mmm, just a few more minutes," she mumbled. She raised her hand to brush her hair out of her eyes, and accidentally connected with Angel's jaw. He reflexively jerked back, dislodging her from his comforting embrace and hurling her into the waking world.

"Angel." She sat up quickly, clutching her portion of the covers to her chest. He sat up as well, trying to appear more relaxed than she, but failing miserably.

"I'm sorry, really sorry," she stammered, not quite meeting his eyes. "You were having one of your nightmares, and I know…that is I remember how hard you are to wake up so I thought...but I guess I should have tried to wake you." She smiled weakly. "Seemed to do the trick, though."

"Thanks," he responded softly. There was nothing more to say, at least that he could say without hurting her. She already knew anyway.

"What time is it anyway?" she asked, in an attempt to get conversation back to neutral territory. "I feel like I slept for days but we couldn't...it can't be all that late."

He smiled crookedly at her as he raised his wrist to give her an answer. "Well, now that I have my arm back I can tell you." He glanced at his watch, and then did a double take. "It's after four. Gunn and Wesley should have been back hours ago."

"Maybe they stopped for lunch,'" she suggested. When he looked at her in complete disbelief, she offered another option. "Okay, maybe they're in Gunn's room waiting for us. It doesn't always have to be a deep, dark and deadly, you know."

"No," he agreed, reluctantly sliding out from under the covers. "It doesn't have to be, but it usually is." He dragged his duffel bag over to the bedside to rummage through it for a change of clothes.

"I see we're still having trouble directing those feet to the sunny side of the street."

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Not exactly a good neighborhood for a vampire. Besides, I've lightened up a lot," he protested. "Cordelia isn't even afraid to invite me to her parties anymore. Well, not very afraid," he amended.

"Umm, yeah, she mentioned a party you two were going to," Buffy said hesitantly. She slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom, trying to appear casual as she continued to pump him for details. "She said the guy who was throwing it was named Rabbit or something. Is he a new client, or is Cordy fishing for a Xander replacement?"

"Neither one, actually."

Angel deliberately kept his reply short, trying to see how long Buffy could maintain her pose of cool disinterest. He knew precisely what she was thinking, because he had felt that way himself many times before when it came to Buffy and other guys.

"So Cordelia isn't dating anyone?" Buffy called through the bathroom door. "I mean she made a big deal about you taking her to this shindig, but I know that you two aren't...well, you know."

Angel was silent, waiting until her curiosity, and possibly jealousy, forced her to speak her mind. If he assured her before she even asked the question, she might see that as placation rather than honesty. She needed to ask, and be answered.

The bathroom door swung open, revealing Buffy dressed once again in her own clothes. She paused in the doorway, looking somberly at him.

"You are just friends, right? I know I don't have the right to ask anymore, and I know I should be happy for you if there's someone new in your life, but I...well, I guess there isn't a but, is there?"

Angel wanted to take her in his arms then and there, and never let go again. She, for whom he'd literally gone to Hell and back, still doubted the permanence of her place in his life. He knew he was the one with no rights in this situation, since he had been the one to walk away. Still, even if it caused still more complications and heartache for them, he needed to be honest with her.

"Cordelia is my friend," he said gently. "Maybe my best friend in LA, but that's it. A former client named David Nabbit is giving the party. Wes and I were invited, along with Cordelia, and I said I would drive her. Once we arrive, Wesley and I are under strict instructions to disappear, and not do anything at the party to embarrass her. Like dance." He spoke slowly and patiently, trying to cover any potential areas of doubt.

"She just seemed really protective of you," Buffy said grudgingly, scuffing her bare toe on the carpet. "I know I shouldn't pry; the last time we saw each other we made it clearer than one of Giles' crystals that we had separate lives."

"Maybe we made it a little too clear." He took a step closer to her and instinctively started to reach out, but he stopped his arm halfway up and then let it fall to his side. "I think it's okay to talk about our lives and how we're feeling. I'm just afraid of overstepping and causing you problems at home. You're the one with something to lose here."

Riley again.

Buffy wanted to scream. Every time she and Angel started to get a little too honest for comfort, he dragged Riley back into it. As though there was nothing else between them anymore but the job.

A sharp comment sprang to her lips, but before she could voice it, she noticed a sketchpad protruding from Angel's duffel bag. She pounced on it, forgetting both Riley and her anger.

"You're drawing again?" Buffy lifted the pad gently from his bag, but didn't open it. "I thought you gave it up after...after you came back." She still couldn't say the word "hell" to him. Some guilt would never fade, for her any more than for Angel.

"I did." Angel looked away for a moment, remembering the taunting portraits of Buffy and her loved ones that he had drawn as Angelus. "For a long time I wouldn't let myself near a sketchpad. I couldn't." He faced her once again. "But then Cordelia got me some pastels, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. It's funny; I didn't realize how much I missed sketching until I started again."

Buffy looked at the pad, and then at him, a question in her eyes. He smiled and nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while she flipped through the drawings. There was no danger of her seeing something she shouldn't see; he hadn't wanted to bring his drawings of her on the stakeout for fear they would be lost or damaged. It wasn't like he needed pictures of her anyway; every look, every gesture was engraved upon his heart.

"Angel, these are beautiful," she said slowly. "All these street scenes near your old office, and the boardwalk at night. I'm so glad Cordelia got you those pastels, even if it does seem...oddly perceptive coming from her." She glanced at Angel, daring him to disagree.

"She thought I needed to reconnect with my humanity," he said dryly. "Well, that and she thought I was depressed."

"Who? You?"

"Go figure." Angel shrugged, a small smile on his face at the memory of Cordelia's kindness. "Anyway, it's been a lifesaver. So to speak."

"So you're drawing again." Buffy gently closed the pad and placed it back in Angel's bag. "You go to parties now, and Cordy has to tell you not to dance instead of coaxing you out on the floor. You even have a cell phone. Y2K Angel is really quite the new and improved vamp."

He felt a brief flash of anger, but mostly he was hurt. He had hoped she would be proud of him; he was working so hard to make something decent out of the useless Irish lad who turned into a merciless destroyer of innocence. Instead she seemed angry again, the way she had been when he helped Faith last spring. He thought they had gotten past that, but obviously not.

"What was I supposed to do, Buffy?" He turned up his palms and shrugged. "I know I'm a vampire, but that doesn't mean I'm going to retreat into my coffin for the next hundred years. I want to grow, to change, just like everyone else. I want to be...someone."

Buffy realized she had gone too far. Her own hurt had led her to strike out at him again, fully expecting him to absorb the blow because he loved her. If he couldn't love her in her worst moments, who would?

"Angel, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sound angry; I'm not." She dropped to her knees in front of him and grasped his hands in hers. "Or maybe I am angry, but not at you. It's just...I feel like everyone is changing but me. I tried to move forward, but I don't want to without...and it's not like I can go back and get a do-over. Life doesn't work that way. I'm just stuck, and it hurts, and sometimes it makes me really mad." She looked down at his hands for a moment before reluctantly facing him again. "And sometimes I take that mad out on people I know won't hate me because of it."

He gently freed one of his hands from hers and reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I could never hate you. Ever," Angel said gently. "But we can't go back, Buffy. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe we can finally become the friends you said we never were. Maybe there's even more in store for us." He looked deep into her hazel eyes, searching for the pathway to her soul that once he had known instinctively. "But until then, we can't let the pain take over. If we can't even see each other without lashing out, how can we ever hope to...never mind."

Angel stood up abruptly, forcing her to scramble back away from him. He walked over to the window, keeping carefully out of the sun's faint rays trickling through the opening in the drapes. His face was equally well hidden from her.

Buffy stood up and crossed over to stand behind him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she was suddenly afraid. There was something going on here that she didn't understand. Angel was keeping things from her again, and that could only mean badness in Buffyland.

"Angel, how can we ever hope to do what?" she asked softly. When he didn't answer, or even look at her, she tried again. "Angel, I may not have seen much of you the past year, but I know your Something Face. What are you hoping for?"

****

What was he hoping for?

Angel considered his answer carefully before he spoke. Once he had nothing to hope for, or dream about, or survive for. He moved from night to night because he lacked sufficient interest in life even to end it. Then he saw a young blonde girl called to face a terrible destiny, and all that she was became all the he hoped for. She was his light, his salvation, and he would do anything to be worthy of her.

And then he realized he never would be, as long as he was less than a man.

Now he faced the possibility that he would again become a man someday. But in the meantime, in the years or even centuries before he had earned the chance to be what he had once taken for granted, what right did he have to keep her captive to his future? If he hoped for anything in this world, it was a chance to grow old with Buffy, but to confide in her the possibility was to chain her to his side indefinitely.

And that was assuming by his side was where she wanted to be in the first place.

"Angel, what aren't you telling me?" Buffy was trying to control her voice, but she knew her fear was broadcasting loud and clear.

"Nothing," he sighed. "You know everything that matters, Buffy. I told you what I hoped for. I want us to be friends. Let it go."

"No, you said it like there was something more after all that," she insisted. She tugged on his arm, gently forcing him to confront her face to face. "I may not be a whiz in school, but I know when you use that voice there's more in the footnotes that you're hoping I won't bother to read."

"Read the last page, Buffy. It says 'the end,' as in the end of this conversation."

"You are not backing out of this one, Cryptic Guy." Obviously more drastic methods were called for. She grabbed a handful of his shirt to hold him captive. "I can still tell when you're trying too hard not to tell me something. I don't mind when we fight, Angel; I never did. At least when we fight, we're doing it together. It's the shut-down-and-walk-away part that's a bitch."

Now it was she who turned away.

"Well now you have someone who can stick around after the fighting's over," he said wearily to her back. He had to keep reminding himself of Riley's existence or he would let himself slip. She was too close, and too vulnerable, and he was never very good at resisting temptation.

"No, now I'm the one who shuts down. But I'm too afraid to walk away," she admitted grudgingly.

"Buffy, I don't..."

A series of knocks on the door cut him off.

"Angel! Buffy! Are you still here?" Wesley's slightly high-pitched voice could barely be heard over the din undoubtedly produced by Gunn's fist.

"I'll get it."

Angel caught her arm as she walked past him to open the door. "Wait," he said urgently. "What were you just saying? If you need to talk..."

"Oh suddenly I'm the one who needs to open up? I think I've already said too much." She shook off his hand and opened the door. "Come on in guys. We've been waiting for you."

* * * * *

"I'm fine, Cordelia. No, she hasn't tried to stake me...or behead me...no, she's not packing holy water either." Angel put his hand over the cell phone and smiled apologetically at Buffy. "She really doesn't mean this the way it sounds," he said with a weak smile.

Returning his attention to his assistant, he continued to reassure her. "No, I'm not evil either, but thanks for asking...we're going to Sunnydale first, then I'll be back...yes in time for the party...okay, fine, the blue shirt, but not the tie...because I don't like ties...because vampires are a little sensitive in the neck, if you must know...yes, I said Sunnydale. I was wondering when you'd pick up on that...no, you can't talk me out of it...no, I...no, I can't..." He sighed. "Okay, yes, fine, if I have time I will stop by Aura's house and see if she ever got the bloodstains out of the shoes you loaned her for graduation...yes, Italian leather is hard to clean. Goodbye, Cordelia."

Angel clicked off the phone a moment later and shook his head. "She really is working on that tact thing, but some days it's an uphill climb." He glanced at Gunn, waving the phone slightly. "I'm not sure if I should thank you for recharging this or not."

"Don't bite the messenger, man; you're the one who hired her." Gunn held up his hands to ward off any responsibility.

"Did I?" Angel asked with a small smile. "I've always been a little hazy on the details."

"Well now that you've checked in with mom, can we go?" Buffy said acidly. "We still have a four hour drive, and I need to stop at my house when we get to Sunnydale."

"Yes, I'm sure Buffy will need to find more suitable, umm, garments for fighting in," Wesley said awkwardly to Angel, waving his hand at the fashion plate in question.

"I don't know," Gunn said speculatively, running his eyes up and down her lithe figure. "She looks pretty good to me as is." He was smirking at his own cleverness, until he glanced over at Angel and realized the vampire was not in the least bit amused. "I mean she looks nice. Real nice," he hastily defended himself, trying not to smile.

"She wants weapons," the vampire growled.

"I have found they make dandy accessories," Buffy admitted, grinning at Angel's discomfiture. "Though it's hard to find a crossbow in basic black. They all go for the natural wood look." Her smile softened. "I'm assuming most of your toys were lost in the explosion."

He nodded, still glowering at Gunn.

"I'm also assuming you're rebuilding the arsenal one piece at a time, combing every antique shop in LA with nighttime hours, instead of just going down to the power tools section of Sears and stocking up on chainsaws." She tried to sound exasperated, but an unwilling note of pride crept through.

"She really does have you pegged." Gunn didn't bother to restrain his laughter this time.

"We'll stop at my house for supplies," Buffy continued, ignoring Gunn. "I can call Spike then too and see if he's located the Belos demon yet. Otherwise we have some tracking to do."

"Spike?" Wesley said faintly. "You've entrusted a portion of this mission to Spike? What would Giles say?"

"Things have changed, Wes," she said impatiently. "I don't trust Spike to cover my back, but I do trust his greed. He knows I won't pay him unless his information is good, and he knows what I'll do to him if I don't get my money's worth." She paused for a moment. "Well, actually it was Mom's money's worth of my textbook money, and I haven't mentioned that part to her yet, or really any of this...but I will. Eventually."

Gunn opened the curtains slightly, and then all the way. "Sun's set, so I guess you can take off in style. No cover on the Batmobile."

"What took you guys so long anyway?" Angel asked as checked the room for anything they might need to bring. "We expected you hours ago."

Memories of those sweet, painful hours cooled the last remaining flames of Angel's temper. For all that they reminded him of the world he had given up, he wouldn't trade that time spent alone with Buffy for anything. And this time no one could take it back or deny it ever happened.

Gunn glared at Wesley, who flushed and looked away. At last, sensing Gunn was not going to help him out, Wesley answered Angel's question.

"Yes, well, Gunn was still somewhat fatigued and I thought rather than have him drive and potentially cause harm to an innocent driver if perchance he should fall asleep behind the wheel...Gunn falling asleep, that is, not the innocent driver, although perhaps..."

"He offered to drive, I sacked out, he got lost," Gunn said succinctly.

"That was the gist of the situation," Wesley admitted, looking anywhere but at Angel. "It's not as though we expected you to be waiting, you know. We only knocked as a courtesy."

"Yeah, there was a little confusion about the travel arrangements. Anyway it's okay, Wes. You got here." Angel patted Wesley on the shoulder, shooting Gunn a quelling glance before the youth could comment further. "You have your cell, right Wesley?" At Wesley's nod, he continued, "We're going to take off now; we'll call later and let you know how things went." He gestured for Buffy to precede him out the door.

"Be careful," Wesley warned them.

"You too," Angel called back over his shoulder as he walked out into the parking lot. Suddenly he stopped and turned around as a thought struck him. "Wes, Gunn, remember you're just supposed to be watching this guy. No contact, okay? Look but don't touch."

Gunn slapped Wesley's back in a forceful display of camaraderie. "Hey, we'll be cool, but what about you? Cordelia filled me in on some backstory when I picked up the re-charger for the phone. Right back at you with the 'you too,' pal."

* * * * *

"Where is she?"

Riley paced back and forth; ten steps to the right, then steps to the left. His body moved with the precision drilled into him during basic training, while his mind occupied a whole different reality.

Where was Buffy? What was taking her so long? It was galling having to wait to be rescued like this, but there was nothing else he could do. He'd been waiting for hours, days even, and still she didn't come. What could have happened to her? Fight or no fight, she was the Slayer and it was her job to rescue him. Now.

So where was she?

* * * * *

It was a long, and fairly quiet drive back to Sunnydale. They made a brief stop at Angel's new digs in LA to get a few reference books, and then they were back on the road. Buffy drove, while Angel researched and muttered half-forgotten prayers from his childhood every time he looked up from a book to witness her driving.

After seeing Angel's new home, and those he shared it with, Buffy was brimming with questions about his life in LA, but the morning had taught her that every word brought them closer to the things they could never have. Curiosity warred with caution, but eventually the silence between them grew too great. She had to know.

"Those kids, the slayer-wannabees, they really live with you?"

Angel looked up from his current reading material, and tried not to notice how closely they were following the very large truck in front of them.

"I don't know if I'd call it living with me. It's a big hotel."

"Not to be nosy, but why? I mean, why did you ask them to move in?"

It hadn't surprised to see the size and grandeur of Angel's new home; the mansion hadn't exactly been a little thatched cottage either. Learning that Wesley and Gunn lived there hadn't been much of a shocker either; she could see the bonds between the three men even if they were hesitant to admit them. What had surprised her were the teenage boys and girls roaming the corridors. Gunn's gang, Angel had explained, and then he told her of their demon-hunting efforts.

What he hadn't told her, but she had seen for herself, was Angel's role in their lives. Even in the brief time Buffy spent at the hotel, she had seen quite clearly how he looked out for them, and how they in turn watched out for him. Solitary, isolated Angel was an integral part of these kids' lives, and he obviously enjoyed it. He seemed to be almost a big brother to them, or a dad.

She stole a glance at Angel; he looked genuinely puzzled by her question. He shrugged his shoulders and tried not to wince when he felt the passenger side tires momentarily bump off the pavement and onto the grass. Once again, Angel was devoutly grateful he had insisted on taking the back roads. The thought of Buffy driving on a highway was enough to bring the strongest vampire to his knees.

"Angel, why?" she repeated.

"They were homeless," he said simply. "I've been there myself. So have you, for that matter."

"Well, yeah, but when I ran away I got a job so I could have a place to live." She smiled weakly at him, hoping he would not be offended on behalf of his young charges.

"They have jobs, the same one you and I do. They fight demons." Angel sighed and looked back down at the book in his lap. "Right now I wish I could get at least some of them back in school, but it's hard enough keeping them alive from one day to the next."

She took one hand off the steering wheel and rested it gently on the back of his hand. He turned over his hand and clasped hers within it.

"You would have made a great dad," she said softly.

She wished the words away the instant she said them; the brief smile on his face was not worth the world of hurt she saw flash through his eyes as he envisioned all that might have been.

He looked down at the small, strong hand resting comfortingly in his and tried to shrug it off. "There's probably more to it than just keeping them breathing."

After that, Buffy tried to keep her mind, and her conversation, centered on business, but it was a strain. It was almost with gratitude that she finally saw the outlines of her mother's white porch take shape under the streetlights. She had been expecting to see it at a little closer proximity, however; there were a large number of cars crowding both sides of the street.

"Oh swell, I forgot Mom's party." She slapped her hand to her forehead as she and Angel climbed out of the car. "Big show opening tomorrow at the gallery, so she's throwing an informal party for all the artists."

"Do you need to put in an appearance?" Angel had no intention of joining her unless she insisted; he could think of few things he would enjoy less than the disgust on Joyce Summers' face when she spied her daughter once again in the company of her vampire lover.

Buffy eyed the array of cars doubtfully. "I probably should, but I really don't have the patience to deal right now."

"Guess it's back to the window for both of us then." Angel started across the street, heading for the tree next to her bedroom window. He glanced back when he realized she wasn't beside him. "Buffy?"

She started in surprise. "Umm, yeah, I'm coming."

She forced herself to cross the street, trying not to dwell on the familiarity of this venture. This was just a temporary alliance; that's all it could be. Still, she couldn't suppress the shiver of delight she felt when she scrambled in her open window and saw Angel's dark head appear behind her.

* * * * *

Angel stayed close to the window, fearful of intruding. He glanced around Buffy's old room and noticed that very little had changed. Intellectually he knew it had been a year since she'd lived here full-time, but somehow it seemed that time was drawn back for just this instant. He could almost pretend the past year had never happened, that there had been no separation, no loneliness, no soul-deep sorrow.

The keyword here being 'almost.'

"Seems like old time, huh?" Buffy asked with a hesitant smile. "I'm just gonna...I need to call Spike. Oh, wait." She firmly pushed the bedroom door closed. "Wouldn't want Mom or Dawn to walk in," she explained as she nervously patted the door. "We don't really have time to go to the land of creative yet incredibly phony explanations."

"Who's Dawn?"

"Boy, how soon they forget. My little sister, silly." She picked up the phone from the nightstand.

Angel looked thoroughly confused. "Buffy, you don't have a sister."

"Yeah, don't I wish," she groaned. "When we were in LA I could almost pretend she doesn't exist, but here we are back in good old Sunnydale. Enter the demon spawn." She winced when she realized what she had said. "Ooh, sorry."

"Buffy..."

"Angel, can you get some weapons from my trunk?" she interrupted him. "You know my favorites." She turned her back to him as she started to dial.

Angel started to ask another question about the mysterious Dawn, and then he thought better of it. She must be a new stepsister or foster sister that Giles forgot to mention, and Buffy didn't seem to like talking about her either. Hence, as his beloved would say, the serious lack of mention.

That settled satisfactorily in his mind, he knelt down and opened her trunk, trying not to look at any of her personal items stored there. He removed the lower shelf to reveal the hidden cache of gleaming weapons and sifted through them one by one, deciding which would be the most effective for the situation.

Buffy's conversation with Spike was brief and businesslike, until Angel's name was mentioned.

"Yes, I said Angel was going to help me, not that it's any of your business anyway. Do you think I'd trust you to help me? I don't have that kind of money."

Spike laughed softly. Humans were so predictable, and for all their superpowers, Buffy and Angel were human to the nth degree.

"You're actually going to risk Sweet Soul Boy to rescue the Rambo-reject? You really are set on proving you're over him, aren't you, ducks?"

"I don't have time for this, Spike," she retorted. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the phone, nearly shattering the instrument despite her efforts to restrain her strength. "You don't understand anything about this, so just back off."

"So typical, Slayer. You're so busy trying to show the world that you love the Commando of the Corn instead of Angel, you can't see what the final act will be." Spike's voice went up a few notches to a falsetto. "Oh Joyce, you much be such a proud mum! Isn't Buffy so happy now with a normal boyfriend? Isn't he so tall and blond and...human?" His voice fell to its normal register. "Doesn't Angel fit so well into that urn on the mantel? And to think you were mad at me for using his blood to heal Dru. At least when I used him for a sacrificial lamb it was out of love, not the creeping guilts."

Buffy finally lost control of the muscles in her hand and crushed the phone before she even knew what she was doing. She stared at the shattered bits of wiring and plastic scattered across the carpet.

"He can't even see his own reflection," she muttered. "How the hell can he see inside me so well?" A moment later she felt Angel's gentle touch on her arm, and she felt her heart contract as she looked up into his apprehensive face.

"Buffy, what did he say? Is it...it's not too late, is it?"

He was worried about Riley; she could see the genuine concern shining from the depths of his dark eyes. As much as it hurt him to see her move on with her life without him, and with Riley, Angel was still worried about Riley's safety.

She reached up to caress his cheek one last time. Without thinking he turned his face to kiss her palm. She smiled as she traced the edge of his lower lip with her thumb.

"Everything's fine," she reassured him softly. "Spike is just being Spike. And now I'm going to be Buffy and take care of this myself." She dropped her hand from his face, but he caught her arm on the way down and held her fast.

"What are you talking about? We're going together."

"No." Her voice was gentle, but firm. "I never should have come to you for help, not about this anyway. This is my problem and I'll deal."

"You are not going anywhere without me," he insisted. "We're in this together, for better or for worse." He stopped as the next natural phrase in that progression slipped into his mind.

She shook her head. "No. I won't sacrifice you to save him. You can't make me." She remembered too well the anguish she felt the last time she put Angel's welfare behind another cause. Never again, she silently vowed.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not exactly a blood of the lamb type, unless you count Easter dinner." He was hoping for a smile, but her sad expression remained unchanged. He tried again. "Buffy, I know how hard it must have been for you to come to me for help. I can understand you're having second thoughts now because you feel guilty. Don't. I'm right where I want to be." Beside you, his heart continued without benefit of voice.

"Well duh on the guilt factor, but it's not what you think." Buffy looked away, staring fixedly at her open slayer trunk. She'd forgotten when she sent Angel into it that she had tucked away all her mementoes of him in there. It must have hurt him terribly to see their time together neatly boxed up and labeled, yet he didn't say a word. Typical Angel.

"Tell me." He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at her impassively. He obviously had no plans on moving any time in the next century unless she opened up to him.

"I have to go," she insisted.

"You are not going without me, so take 5 minutes and talk to me."

"I don't feel guilty about asking you for help," she said after a moment's stubborn silence.

He said nothing, just continued to stare at her.

"Well, okay, maybe I sort of do, but that's not where the hair halter-top comes in." She dropped her eyes and looked away. "I just...I feel guilty because I shouldn't feel guilty. I should be able to go to you for help like an old friend, but all I can think is that I'm putting you in danger for something that's all my fault." Her words tumbled together as she struggled to get them out before she lost her nerve. "And I'm not giving you up to save the world or anything else again, been there done that, so no way. But that's really what I'm asking you because none of this is your fault, again and I'm asking you to take the fall." She paused for a breath, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction to the semi-truth and nothing but the semi-truth.

"You love him." Angel said it quietly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for them to be discussing. "You will do what you have to do to save him because of that, and so will I."

Suddenly his father's voice whispered in his ear, stirring up too easily roused insecurities.

"Unless you don't trust me to help you."

For the first time Buffy could clearly see the damage her pride had caused. The semi-truth would no longer be enough. She almost howled in frustration; this would only make things worse, and yet she had no choice.

"God, Angel, that is so not it," she said passionately. "I trust you. I trust you with everything; that's not even a question. But why is everyone so sure I love Riley? Did I ever say it? I don't love him, okay. I don't," she repeated emphatically. "I never told him I did, I never even really said it to you, I just hinted to get you mad. Like when I said I didn't trust you." Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Now was not the time for uncontrolled emotions.

"But it was never fair to him," she continued more slowly, "because he does love me, and I never gave him a chance. I think the 'love of my life' section of a person's heart is only big enough for one...and that spot was taken."

She hung her head, unable to look at Angel while she confessed her deepest sins. "But he wouldn't believe that, so he followed me on patrol, and I got mad and told him we were through, and then I left him alone. In a cemetery. At night. In Sunnydale."

His hand slid under her chin and tilted her face up to confront his own. "You are not responsible for protecting every one every minute, Buffy," he insisted. "I realize Riley is human, and he doesn't have access to the type of weapons he's used to anymore, but he's hunted enough demons in this town to know when to go home and live to fight another day. If the Belos found him, it was because of plain stubbornness on Riley's part, or maybe just bad luck. It does happen, you know, even in Sunnydale."

Buffy reached up and caught his hand in both of hers. As she pulled Angel's hand over to kiss his fingers she felt his claddagh ring scrape her cheek. The heart was still pointed inward; she had looked. For an instant she closed her eyes, lost in the memory of a night long ago, when she first learned what this ring meant to him. Tonight, as on that night, she gently kissed the ring and sealed an unspoken promise.

Always.

"What...what did you mean when you said you told Riley you were through?" Angel's voice was soft as he asked his question; he wasn't really sure if he hoped she could hear him. Regardless of her situation with Riley, there was still no way for he and Buffy to be together. He resolutely put all thoughts of eventual shansu from his mind. He needed to be realistic now.

Buffy released his hand and stepped back a few paces to sit on the corner of the bed. After a moment Angel joined her, sitting on the opposite corner.

"I broke up with him. It was all a big fake anyway." She looked down at her hands, thinking of Angel's ring and her own lost mate to it. "I just wanted to be with somebody, anybody, and he was the first body that came along."

"I can't believe that. Maybe it wasn't love but...you seemed to care about him." The words were wrung from Angel; he didn't want her caring about any man but him. No matter what his rational mind told him was right, his heart believed differently, and it would never let go of the dream.

Buffy shook her head, still not meeting Angel's eyes. "I'm not even sure I liked him. I mean, don't you have to know someone to like them?"

"It helps."

She sighed and searched for a way to make him understand, or rather acknowledge, her lack of relationship with Riley. "Angel, what have we been doing all day?"

"Talking," he replied with a puzzled frown. "Why? Do you call it something different now that you're in college?"

"We talked, right. We talked about all sorts of stuff. And for all the things you said, there were thousand of things you didn't say that I heard anyway. You didn't need to say them, because I know you." She stared at the floor as she painfully finished her confession. "Riley and I never really talked about anything that mattered. It was all about work or classes or what movie to go see. I never wanted to hear more than that. But even if I did nothing but talk to him for the next hundred years, I still wouldn't know his soul like I know...He's a stranger to me; I realized that when he came back from Iowa. And he never knew the real me at all because I never let him."

"Two months is a long time apart," Angel persisted. "It's bound to create distance." He tried to stamp out the little voice that was cheering inside of him. She never loved Riley. She didn't even like him.

She looked at him at last, capturing him with her somber intensity. "Can time really do that? Make strangers of people who are truly in love? I kind of think if the bond is real, nothing will destroy it. Not time, or distance or even a bagful of never-gonna-happens."

Too much, she said too much. She sprang to her feet before Angel could respond.

"I have to go," she said quickly. "Just I, I mean me, or maybe I do mean I. I don't know. It's not like this is my native language or anything." She nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she babbled. "Solo is what I'm trying to say. No Kamikaze Boy on drums."

Angel caught her hand in his. "Buffy..." he began urgently.

She pulled her hand away. She couldn't deal with this now; it was too much for her ravaged emotions to encompass. Angel here, in her room, just like the old days that could never be the days that were to come.

"I don't want you with me tonight," she said desperately. "I want you to go back to LA and enjoy the new life you're building with the Lost Boys in that crazy old hotel. Whatever happens tonight, I want to know you're safe."

"You need back-up."

"I need you to be safe," she insisted, struggling for control. "I didn't realize at first what I was asking you to risk. But then I saw you humoring Cordelia and making Wesley feel better about himself and joking with Gunn. I want that for you. I want to think of you as part of a family; just the way you always wanted. You deserve that." Buffy looked at him with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Please don't come with me," she whispered.

* * * * *

They made their way slowly across the park towards the large abandoned wooden-frame structure on the edge of the lake. Despite all of Buffy's begging, pleading and out-and-out threatening, Angel was still resolutely by her side. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or furious, but eventually she was forced to admit she couldn't out-stubborn him; he had immortality in his corner.

"This place has been empty for years, but Willow once told me it was a dancehall in the 20s and 30s," Buffy said softly. "Then during the World War II they used it as a canteen." She glanced over at Angel. "That's where they entertained soldiers on leave. Dancing, pretty girls serving coffee and tea, that sort of stuff," she explained.

Angel smiled grimly. "I know, Buffy. I was there, remember?"

"Well, I figured that was during your blue period. No dancing, no funny party hats, no fun of any kind, actually. Am I wrong?" she challenged him.

"Just because I didn't get out much doesn't mean..." he began hotly. He stopped when he saw the smirk on her face. "Okay, you're right, but I didn't live under a rock, either. I knew what was going on, I just wasn't a part of it."

"Like the boy in the plastic bubble," she said wistfully. "Always looking out on what you can't touch or have."

He said nothing, because there was nothing to say. She knew him so well, and she felt the pain even as he did, maybe more so. Words could never heal these wounds.

"Do you want to try the front or the back?" Buffy asked after a few moments of silence. They were now within twenty feet of the side of the seemingly deserted building. Time to talk serious battle plans.

"Your call. Spike's sources just said Riley was here; no details on where in the building he was being kept, or where the Belos set up living quarters. Either way we could be walking head on into the lion's mouth."

Buffy sighed. Actually wailing on demons was so much easier than stalking and surprising them. After all Giles', and Angel's, tireless tactical training, she still preferred the simplicity of hand-to-fang combat immediately upon rising.

"Okay, front door it is. Hey, we're traveling in a pair; maybe they'll think we're trying to fill up the pews on Sunday morning," she said mockingly.

Angel frowned and sniffed the air suspiciously. "I don't think these guys are the church-going type," he said after a moment. "Buffy, I'm getting the strangest sensation of..."

"Vampires," she finished for him. "I know; I can sense them too. But what's so weird about vamps in Sunnydale? I mean, they've been a little scarce the past year, but maybe they were on tour or something." She gripped her crossbow firmly and felt for the dagger she had tucked in her belt.

"From what I read about Belos demons, they don't seem the type to hang with vampires. They're kind of into the lone wolf image; they don't even like to be seen with other Belos."

"Well, maybe this guy is a rebel. You know, partying with the outcasts and drinking too much witches bane and..." She glanced up at him with a mischievous smile, but she felt it waver when she saw the somber expression on his pale face. "Hey, if he has vamps as back-up, we're a shoo-in," she said softly, laying her free hand lightly on his arm. "They're kind of what I kill best. Present company excepted, of course."

He smiled down at her, but there was no time to reply before they were rudely interrupted.

"Well it's about time you got here," came a voice from behind.

Buffy and Angel both whirled around, weapons at the ready, but before either could fire on their lone opponent he was no longer lone. Vampires poured out from the surrounding bushes and from inside the building.

"So much for the element of surprise," Buffy grumbled. "Guess my vamp alert button got the snooze treatment a little too much last year." She glanced over at Angel. "Do we try to take them out now and go in with guns blazing or..."

"Or," he replied before she finished her question. "Definitely or."

"Okay boys, take me to your leader," she sighed, raising her hands just slightly in a demonstration of temporary surrender.

* * * * *

The former dancehall was suddenly ablaze with lights. Strings of tiny Christmas tree lights were twined around the support beams, and everywhere there were candles being lit by various vampire minions who were no longer needed to restrain the captives. Buffy and Angel had submitted calmly, biding their time for an opportunity to strike. This left the vampires free to set the stage.

Buffy, Angel, and the remainder of their demonic entourage slowly crossed the hall to stand dead center on the old wooden dance floor. The vampire guards stayed uncomfortably close at hand, three per prisoner. Four of them were for physical restraint, while the other two pointed a gun at Buffy's temple and her own crossbow at Angel's heart. It was a fairly effective method of confinement, at least until the warriors could scope out the battlefield.

Angel glanced quickly around the dancehall, looking for exits and hiding places. He knew that Buffy was doing the same, and hoped she was coming up with some more reassuring answers than he was. All the entrances save the one they had been dragged through appeared to have been boarded over several times. Worse yet, the loft above the bandstand would seem to make an excellent hiding place for back-up troops.

"Wonderful. We're finally together again my love, at long last."

The voice was very smooth, and most definitely feminine. It was also terrifyingly familiar, but there was no way it could be real. She had been dust for four years now; dead by Angel's own hand.

"Darla," Buffy said flatly. "Long time no see."

"You don't seem surprised," Darla pouted as she slowly descended the staircase from the loft at the far end of the hall. "I had counted on a more...dramatic reaction. Like that," she said, pointing at the dumbstruck Angel.

"Five years ago I didn't even know vampires existed. Now, I can safely say very little surprises me. Except for the crowds in the mall at the crack of dawn the day after Thanksgiving. That one gets me every time." Buffy shrugged her shoulders and stole a glance at the slowly recovering Angel.

"You were dust. I saw you turn to dust," he said with great deliberation. "I staked you myself."

"And don't think I've forgotten that, dear boy." Darla waved her finger sternly at Angel as she approached him. "You killed me, just as she killed you. I think we all have some issues to work through, and I intend to do just that. One delicious and torment-filled moment at a time."

"Okay, I know we've all been burned at the altar of love," Buffy groaned, "but I think there's a lot to be said for the phrase 'get over it.' He dumped you decades ago; I got dumped last year. Mine is the pain that counts, and if I don't get the wallow time, why should you?"

"You humans think everything revolves around your pain, your happiness." Darla veered away from her slow stalk towards Angel and approached Buffy instead. "I made Angelus from a drunken bed-happy Irishman; I named him and I gave him life, and yet you dared lay claim to him. You killed the Angelus that I created, and then you killed the Angel that you created. You destroyed what was mine, and you will answer for it."

She stood directly in front of the Slayer, hands slowly rising from her sides, ready to demonstrate the depths of her rage.

"But I was the one who killed you, Darla," Angel swiftly pointed out. He risked a quick look at Buffy, and saw her temper was rising as fast as Darla's. She needed to calm down and plan their attack before she said something rash, and potentially fatal.

"Yes, but you did it for her. You are here tonight because of her. Everything you have done since the moment you laid eyes on her has been in her name."

Angel breathed the tiniest sigh of relief; Darla's hands were once again at her side, and she seemed temporarily diverted from Buffy's past transgressions. At least if she tried to throttle him for his sins, he could survive without the air while Buffy plotted their escape.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said with forcibly assumed calm. "Angelus had a little run outside the pen again, and I hardly think he was operating out of love."

"I heard about your return, my love," she cooed, running her hand slowly down his throat and along his chest. She smiled as he instinctively shrank from her touch, only to be stopped by the tip of the crossbow bolt in his back. "You killed and tortured just as I taught you. How I wish I had been there." Her hand swiftly moved back up his body to seize him by the throat. "Been there to see you do it all to gain her attention," she snapped. "Demon or human, she is all that you see."

"He didn't come here for me, Darla," Buffy said desperately. "I made him come. I needed help to rescue someone, and that's what he does now. It may gross you out, but he's here just to be nice."

Every instinct in her body was urging her to lunge at Darla and hurl her away from Angel, but the crossbow aimed at his heart kept her feet nailed to the floor. Logically she knew he didn't need the air Darla was depriving him of, but logic had nothing to do with the pain in her heart from once again being unable to protect him.

Darla released Angel and turned away, a small triumphant smile on her face. She slowly walked over to stand beneath the loft.

"Oh yes, the rescue mission," she drawled. "Your boy toy of the moment, held captive by the wicked Belos demon. Poor thing, he's just the latest pawn in your pathetic attempts to prove your non-existent worth by enslaving a man. His name is Riley, am I right?"

She didn't wait for an answer before she clapped her hands and called up the staircase.

"You can come down now children. Mother needs you to help entertain our guests."

Buffy and Angel shared a swift puzzled glance before they each looked upwards, to the loft. Step by step Darla's children came into view, their path taking them down the stairs and along the edge of the dance floor to stand on either side of Darla in front of the bandstand.

Riley on her left; Tara on her right.

* * * * *

"Hey slugger." Ever the genial host, Riley smiled and waved hello from the bandstand. "Took you long enough to get here. Did you hit traffic?"

"I think she was otherwise engaged," Darla said archly. "I'm sure she and Angel had a great deal to catch up on."

Riley's smile suddenly vanished, leaving behind a scowl unlike any Buffy had ever seen on his normally pleasant and nondescript face.

"I don't see that there was anything for them to talk about at all. She needed help; end of story."

"Of course, dear." Suddenly Darla's voice was like silk, muted and soothing. She stretched up to rub her hand along Riley's shoulder blades, reveling in the confusion her maternal gesture produced in her audience.

"So do you like the decorations?" Riley was back in sunny Mr. Right mode again, eager to show off for his best girl. "I wasn't sure we were going to have time to put up all the lights and everything, because you didn't give me much time after I got back to school before you had that little temper tantrum in the graveyard. But since you took so long to get back," he glanced sharply at Angel, "it turned out okay after all."

"I think she's overwhelmed, precious." Darla's tone was ironic in the extreme, but the face she turned to Riley was as bland as his own schoolboy persona.

Angel couldn't bear to see the closed and shuttered look come over Buffy's face. She might not have loved Finn, or even liked him, but she had at least trusted him to a degree. She had let him in the inner circle of family and friends she treasured; allowed him to see her world for what it really was, and all the time he had been deceiving her.

"Are you sure it's really him?" he whispered, truly hoping the answer was no. Buffy had already suffered too many betrayals in her short life; she didn't need another one.

She smiled wistfully at him. "I think the question should be 'am I sure this is the real him?' Sadly, I think that one's a yes."

Buffy looked her ex up and down, searching for some sign that he was a robot, or drugged, or maybe just hypnotized. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, other than his choice of companions; Riley had the same easy boy-next-door-smile, and slightly too-tousled blond hair, and clumsily attempted charm as always.

She wasn't sure of the why or how, but she was positive on the who. It was definitely Riley, and he was there because he wanted to be.

Deep breath time, Buffy, she told herself sternly.

"You win. Color me surprised. And confused."

"Now I'm hurt. You never saw the family resemblance? I think it shows most around the eyes myself." Darla put a hand under Riley's chin and then Tara's, tilting their heads this way and that way. "Yes, definitely the eyes," she finally pronounced.

"You're saying these two are your children," Buffy said slowly, wanting to establish that fact before moving on to the next question. "Riley and Tara both? But vampires can't have children." She looked quickly at Angel, narrowing her eyes. "You told me vampires can't have children. Exactly how long before you met me did you stop seeing her?"

The underlying question was clear.

"You think they're mine?"

"Well I know they're not her children in the 'slurp, you're dead and welcome to the family' sense like you are. I would feel it if they were vamps. That leaves door number two."

She was stalling for all she was worth, but the question was real. As to the answer, she could only hope.

"Buffy, I swear..." Angel was stunned, both by Darla's revelation and Buffy's suspicion. He forgot the vampires restraining him, and the crossbow at his back, as he tried to reach out to his beloved. The guards reacted, but not as he expected.

The gun pressed to Buffy's temple suddenly stiffened in her enemy's hand, presenting a silent but very effective restraint for Angel. He froze, shooting a panicked glance at Darla.

"I think before we go any further with our little reunion, we need to make the rules clear." Darla nodded to one of the vampires waiting off to the side of the stairs. The vampire ran over to her with a large ceramic jar, which Darla cradled gently as she approached Buffy and Angel.

"I know how strong the fighting instinct is in both of you," she explained as she opened the jar and turned it on its side. Tiny black crystals began to pour out onto the wooden floor. "I also know the urge to protect each other is even stronger. So, if either of you moves, the other will die. Simple enough?"

She began to trace a large circle around them with the crystals, murmuring phrases in Latin as she poured. When she completed the crystalline circle she paused for a moment to admire her handiwork before she relinquished the jar to a nearby minion.

"There, all finished." Darla's smile was triumphant. "I decided to take the idea of a protective circle and have some fun with it. You see, anyone can enter this circle, but it will only release the evil. So, unless you've been a bad boy this year Angelus, you're pinned to the floor like a butterfly on velvet." She swept her arms out to the sides, inviting all to appreciate her creation. "Welcome to my version of Dante's first circle of hell."

"Not even close, Darla," Angel snarled. "Take it from a seasoned tourist."

"Poor baby," Darla cooed, stepping into the circle to stroke his cheek. "Was the big bad Slayer mean to you?" Her fingers suddenly became claws, scratching a bloody trail down Angel's cheek.

Buffy flinched, though Angel didn't. She was choking on her anger, but the smooth wood of the crossbow shone evilly in the corner of her eye, reminding her why she must stay rooted in place. To control her temper, she focused on the small details while the majority of her mind was feverishly assembling, and discarding plans of attack.

"I'm still waiting for an answer on the dating thing," she said impatiently.

"Vampires can't have children," Angel said through gritted teeth. "I don't understand any of this, but they can't be mine...or hers. It doesn't make sense." He suddenly realized he'd forgotten one salient point liable to come back and haunt him if they survived this mess. "And I stopped seeing her in 1898."

"We all have a past, Angelus. There is so much about me that you never bothered to ask." Darla's pout was a work of art, honed through centuries of practice. Once upon a time it would have brought Angelus to his knees.

Demon no longer in ascendance, Angel just looked faintly disgusted.

"Now you see with Buffy, I learned all about her before I even met her," Riley drawled. "I found out exactly who she was and what she wanted, so I knew just how to play the part."

Riley couldn't help beaming; this was all working out just swell. Buffy had fallen willingly into his arms the moment they met, and he had no reason to reproach himself for her brief and inexplicable backsliding Angel-wards. It was strictly a temporary situation, for more than one reason.

"Guess again, Stalker Boy. You should have tried wearing more black," Buffy scoffed, doing her best to wipe the smug look from his face. "Leather wouldn't have hurt either."

"You said you wanted stability, and normality, and security," Riley continued serenely, as though she had never spoken. She had these little spells of rebellion, but he knew she would recover soon. She always did. "The poster child for Girl Power wanted someone to take care of her, or at least you thought you did until I tried to do just that." He shrugged. "Is it my fault you can't decide what you really want and stick with it?"

Until now, of course, he reflected. He would make certain she had no more changes of heart after tonight.

Buffy closed her eyes and fractionally shook her head. She wasn't going to listen to him; she broke up with him, and now he was holding her captive. If there was one benefit to this situation, it was that she no longer had to pretend to hang on every word that fell from his supposedly corn-fed lips.

"How is any of this possible?" she asked abruptly, opening her hazel eyes wide to glare at her former, and formerly 'normal,' boyfriend. "I mean, Darla and kids she didn't eat; I still can't wrap my mind around that one."

Keep him talking, keep them talking, she told herself silently. Buy time and think.

"Oh come on, Buff," Riley said smoothly. "I know you know where babies come from, if you know what I mean."

She flushed, not daring to look at Angel. Knowing what she'd done with Riley, and having it thrown in his face were two very different things.

"I wasn't always a vampire, you know," Darla said impatiently. "I had a life, a husband, children, long before I met the Master. I'm disappointed in you, Angelus; haven't you taught this child anything about us?"

She could understand the short-sightedness of the Slayer; humans were always so limited in their thinking anyway, and Buffy Summers was more limited than most. But her Angelus had always been so bright; how crushing to realize his exposure to this dull-witted creature had tarnished that once fine mind.

Angel was doing his best to unravel the mystery, but he was fighting against an overwhelming feeling of unreality. He studied the pair standing under the loft, trying to focus on them as enemies rather than Buffy's supposed friends.

"Okay, I can believe this of Finn; I never trusted him anyway. But are you sure this is the same Tara you told me about?" Angel glanced at Buffy as he spoke under his breath. "She's not a doppelganger or something, right?"

"Not as far as I know," Buffy admitted in a low voice. "Then again, I walked in after the movie started."

She tried not to think of how Willow would feel when she learned the truth. In the wake of Oz's betrayal, her friend might take this second blow as a sign never to trust her heart again. Buffy was certainly experiencing some trust issues herself right about now.

"The Master was so forceful, and so wonderfully, inventively evil," Darla mused. She wandered back and forth across the hall, still lost in her memories. "It seems like just yesterday that I met him."

She tilted her head back as she strolled, gazing at the myriad of sparkling lights overhead. They were a pleasant reminder of all the starlit nights she hunted by the Master's side. By Angelus' side too, until he turned on her.

"You met the Master in 1601; the year Papa died," Tara offered, intruding on her mother's auld lang syne. "He was a hero," she continued, smiling proudly in remembrance. Her smile faltered when not returned by the captive audience, or her loving family.

"Thank you for the historical trivia, dear," Darla said as she snapped back to reality. The venom was thick in her voice. "I managed to get through 244 years without Angelus knowing my full age."

"You'll have to forgive the meow moment, but frankly I thought you were older than that," Buffy said, her voice as treacherously sweet as Darla at her best.

"You're only jealous that he willingly spent so many of those years with me." Darla smiled pityingly at her much younger rival. "He barely lasted three years with you before he ran for his life."

"Mom, is this really necessary?" Riley asked with a grimace. "You'll only encourage him by fighting over him." He scowled again at his rival, who seemed more amused than titillated by the sight of two women quarreling over him.

The Slayer couldn't help staring at Riley even as she sniped at his mother. By all rights he should have grown horns, or a tail, or some other outward manifestation of the Darla within. Instead, he appeared to be just the same old slightly gawky grad student she'd known, at least in the biblical sense, for the last year. Even for the hellmouth, this was plain weird.

"So if your mother died in 1601, that would make you how old?" she asked him with a wince.

"Four hundred and six, if you really want to know." Riley shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't think it would be a problem; you seem to like older guys."

Buffy took a deep breath and continued her quest for information. Know your enemy, Giles' voice reminded her; know him and his weaknesses.

Then kill him.

"Given my line of work I probably should have asked this one a while ago, and I just know I am so not going to like the answer, but...what are you? You can't be human."

Not a pleasant thought to confront, but definitely diary-worthy, she consoled herself.

"He is too," Darla replied indignantly before Riley could answer for himself. "A very, very, very old human, but still human. After the way you've repeatedly mauled him the past year I should think that much would be clear."

Riley's mother clearly was not pleased by her son's taste in women.

"You're the one I'm curious about, Darla," Angel said with great calm. "The last time I saw you, I was wiping you off my coat." He glanced at her appraisingly as she strolled past him again. "You're looking a little more together now."

"Don't you remember the box?" she asked with a sly smile. Slowly, seductively, she advanced on Angel. "The oh-so-mysterious box and all those poor little vampires Vocah sacrificed to raise the creature that lay within. Surely you haven't forgotten poor dear Lindsey? Didn't he once try to lend you a helping hand - until you cut it off?"

"You were the one they were raising," he breathed. "But how?"

This is all your fault, lad, his father's voice assured him. You couldn't stop the raising, and now your girl will die. Once again others will pay for your failure.

Darla shrugged off his question; she wasn't a detail person.

"You read the scroll of Anatole; you tell me. All that matters to me is that my new friends at Wolfram and Hart raised me. Something my children had been less than capable of doing." She glared at Riley and Tara momentarily before refocusing her chilling smile on Angel. "Those lawyers had so many nasty little plans for you, my love. But in the end they let me do things my way." She began to lazily walk around the perimeter of the crystalline circle. "Our way."

"So I'm guessing there never even was a Belos demon in town," Buffy said slowly. "Just one long set-up, from the phony fight on. What about Spike? Was he a part of your fantabulous plan as well?"

As she talked, she shot quick glances all around the hall, trying to see any potential areas of weakness in either design or guard. Until one could be found, Darla needed to be kept occupied. Eventually she would let something slip.

And if Darla was talking, she couldn't be biting.

"As though I would trust him," Darla sneered. "All he knows is the kill; he has no appreciation for the hunt. Angelus trained him very badly."

"You don't like Spike?" Buffy asked with interest. "That's the first nice thing I've ever heard about him."

"Darla's always been a little upset because I only turned Spike to give him to Dru," Angel murmured, glancing sideways at Buffy.

"So what did you give Darla for her birthday that year?" she asked him wryly.

"Spike was just a convenient pawn, but there really was a Belos." Riley decided it was time he jumped into the conversation; he knew better than to get his mother started on the subject of Spike, or birthdays. "He's in Santa Rosita right now setting up a new business with the guy Angel has been tracking. Now that Angel is otherwise occupied they can meet with the lawyers and sign the contracts."

"They're both clients of Wolfram and Hart," Angel guessed, already knowing the answer before Riley nodded.

"Got it in one, Fang Boy."

A warning hiss from his mother wiped the grin off of Riley's face, reminding him vampire jokes were no longer politically correct. He hastily resumed his explanation.

"The Belos came to town and lent us his reputation to set things up, then we knew Buffy would come looking for you when I disappeared and get everyone else into place. We get you, a hopefully thriving new business is started and the lawyers get a cut of it all. Everybody wins."

"Well, not everyone." Darla was all but purring with delight. The sick look on Angel's face as he realized he had left his friends in danger, only to expose Buffy to more danger, was her dream come true.

Well, it was at least the beginning of her dream come true. Buffy was still breathing, after all.

* * * * *

"Yeah, well, now that we know Riley definitely does not need rescuing, we're gonna be going." Buffy spoke casually, but she didn't move a muscle. Repeated glances out of the corner of her eye had done nothing to ease her tension. The crossbow aimed at Angel's heart, and the hand that held it, showed no signs of wavering.

"Oh, I don't think so." Darla began to pace back and forth directly in front of the circle, carefully avoiding the vulnerable edge. "I've put far too much thought into this night, and we've scarcely begun."

"Yeah, this isn't one of those dopey plans Giles throws together on the drive to the hellmouth. I've been working on this for four years." Riley glanced at his sister as she began to back away from him. A tight grip on her arm put an end to her escape plan. "Correction, we've been working on this for four years. Ever since Angel killed our mother."

Darla smiled with chilling fondness at her only son. "Isn't he sweet? He did all this for me, or at least he thinks he did all this. The truth is, dear boy, there are many more forces at work here tonight than you can dream of." Her eyes were wide, and almost hypnotic in their intensity. "We were all drawn here to fulfill a greater purpose. Whatever reason we thought we had for coming to this town is just an illusion; this night is our reason. If only the Master were here to enjoy it with us." She came back to earth with a vengeance and scowled at Buffy, her game face coming briefly to the surface in her anger.

"Umm, sorry, but he's pretty much dust in the wind these days." Buffy glanced coolly at the walls. "Of course if you get rid of those boards you can probably lift some of him off the windows; I don't think this place has been cleaned in a while."

Darla swiftly entered the black circle and slapped Buffy's face. Angel instinctively lunged as Buffy's head snapped towards the pistol pressed to her cheek. His own guard's finger tightened on the trigger of the crossbow.

"Enough!" Darla shouted.

For an instant, everyone froze.

Darla stepped back to the inner edge of the circle and forced herself to calm down. This was not the time for unrestrained emotions. She would not let the Slayer provoke her into taking any actions before she was ready.

"You aren't getting out of this so painlessly, Angelus. But in the future I expect more respect for my orders." Darla glared at the vampire guards. "You were supposed to kill them the instant they moved, so by all rights I really should kill you now."

The vampire guards looked frightened; Buffy's guard took a big gulp of unnecessary air in preparation for begging.

Darla held up her hand when she saw the vampire open his mouth. "Fortunately for you, I still want to play. After all, I didn't come back from oblivion to let my fun be over before it begins."

"Too bad I didn't know where they kept the Dustbuster at the Bronze that night," Buffy snapped. "I bet they miss you in oblivion."

"Mother, maybe we should remove the guards," Tara suggested anxiously. "They waited this time, but next time...there might be an accident before you're ready."

She tried not to look directly at her mother as she spoke; she had learned through the centuries that direct confrontation only angered Darla. The occasional upwards glance through her hair, just the barest flicker of eye contact, worked best for productive, and survivable, communication.

"What I can't believe is that you're a part of this, Tara." Buffy voice softened as she stared directly at the girl she thought she knew. "Was everything with Willow just some sort of a set up? All part of the 'let's destroy Buffy plan?"

She so desperately wanted the answer to be no.

"Basically yes," Riley answered, just as Tara cried out, "No!"

Riley and Darla both glared at the weak link in their midst. For once in her long life, Tara ignored them.

"It started out part of a plan...but you don't understand. I didn't know you; I didn't know any of you." She looked frantically from Buffy to Angel.

"I just knew you'd destroyed my mother. Everything I've done has been because of her. Until I met Willow, I mean. She's such a good person, and she really cares about me." Tara hung her head. "At least, she cares about the me she thinks she knows," she confessed softly.

"And Buffy dear, as much as I will enjoy putting an end to yet another Slayer, this plan was always about Angel. You're the door prize, but he's B-I-N-G-O, bingo."

"Well, doesn't that make me feel special," Angel grumbled. "All this trouble just for me. Gee Darla, you shouldn't have."

Darla began to stroll around the hall again, playing with the dangling strands of lights, running her hands over the flickering candles. She wanted to bask in the glow of success for just a little while longer.

"You were just the bait, Buffy," Tara volunteered from the depths of her misery. "I didn't want them to do it this way; he's the one they wanted, not you, but Riley said...and then Mother said you were his weakness. If we wanted him, we had to get you." Her tear-bright eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

Buffy felt a chill deep in her soul. This was all her fault; Angel would die because of her.

"Tara has always been too soft-hearted," Darla confessed, as she fashioned a little noose out of the strand of lights in her hands. "She was the one who found the spell that made she and her brother immortal, so that they could be with me forever. Now would a child these days go to all that trouble? I don't think so."

"I can't quite see why the Hallmark moment myself," Buffy said, trying to recover her equilibrium. "You don't exactly strike me as the cookie-baking mom type. Actually, were cookies even invented when you, umm, bit the big one?"

Angel flashed a smile at her, and it was worth the vicious tightening of her captor's grasp on her arms to turn her head just slightly and smile back at him.

"She was a good mother once," Tara whispered. "I was very young, but I remember we were happy. Then Papa died on Christmas Eve, and Mother went..."

"A little insane," Riley finished for her. "It was only natural. After all, Buffy, from what I read in your diary, you became a little peculiar after you sent Angel to hell."

Right where Angel belonged, Riley added silently, and wasn't he long over due for a return trip?

"You read my diary?" Buffy growled at her ex. "Oh, when I get my hands on you, you'll wish you never even learned the alphabet."

No one, but no one, read her diary. Well, not read it and lived, as FrankenTed could testify. If he was still alive.

"I wouldn't be making any rash threats if I were you, slugger." Riley pointed to the circle of salt that kept her at his mercy. "Even if the guards leave," he nodded to the vampires restraining them, "you're still imprisoned by the circle."

"As long as it is unbroken," Angel said with a quick look at Buffy. The seeds of plan were born, only to wither at Tara's response.

"It can't be broken from within," she warned them.

Riley silenced her with a sharp yank on her arm. She rubbed her arm with her other hand and tried to pull away from her brother's bruising grip, but he held fast.

"And don't think Angel's demon is going to cut any ice either." Riley's voice was suspiciously kind and gentle, considering the fierce hold he maintained on his sister. "Not that we were able to do a lot of field testing on this thing, but Mom can still do a pretty airtight spell. He's not going anywhere, unless he can figure out a way to get rid of that pesky soul of his, to become truly evil again."

"And give your mother an excuse to shoot Buffy?" Angel growled. "Not likely, pal."

"They took what was mine." Darla was still intent on having her moment. She'd waited too long for it to let it go so easily. "Jamie and the children were all I had. When he went to fight, I thought I was strong enough to protect him, but I couldn't control the magick yet." She clenched her fists in remembered rage. "Then after the battle, I tried to bring him back, but it was no use."

"You'd get better sympathy for me if you weren't trying to my lover right now," Buffy sighed. Too late she realized her slip, but she decided not to correct herself. It was, after all, the truth.

Angel looked at her for just an instant, long enough for her to know he'd heard the meaning behind her words. He wanted to tell her he still felt the same way, but the increasingly purple hue of Riley's face, and the tightening of Darla's mouth indicated he'd best return the conversation to their lives and their pain. He grasped for the first non-Buffy thought that flitted through his mind.

"You never told me any of this," he said in amazement. "I remember my father telling me about the Battle of Kinsale. I just can't believe...I never even knew you were Irish."

"You never asked," Darla reminded him sharply. "But does it matter? My life, as humans consider it, ended when Jamie's did. When I tried to raise him they called me a witch."

"Umm, Mom..." Riley began tactfully, until Darla spun around and fixed him with her icy stare. He shrugged his shoulders and turned up his palms. "Just pointing out a technicality."

"They were going to burn me; all those hypocrites who called themselves my friends and neighbors." Her voice rang with disbelief. "They took my children away, and then they were going to take my life. But the Master rescued me from my cell. He told me he would make me immortal and give me the power to destroy my enemies and take back what was mine."

****

"Vampires aren't exactly known for treasuring family ties," Angel said skeptically. He nodded at Riley and Tara. "Why did you let them live?"

"I was going to kill them at first; you know how I love young fresh blood." She smiled sweetly at Angel, who winced at the sudden wave of memories flooding his mind. "But then I decided to wait until they were grown, and turn them. That way they would stay mine forever." She sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, by the time they were grown Tara had discovered a spell to make them immortal. Vampires can't turn immortals; you really can't do much of anything to them."

"Fire," Tara said suddenly. "All creatures, live and undead, mortal and immortal, are subject to the power of fire. It can destroy and purify." She looked pleadingly at Buffy, hoping the Slayer was not too angry to hear the intention behind her words.

"Yeah, yeah, and it makes pretty colors too," Riley said disparagingly. "The point is we became immortal to stay with our mother, because even as a vampire, she was still the only family we really had. And then you took her away," he said with a glare at Angel.

"Oh please, you were like 160 by that point," Buffy scoffed. "If you couldn't cut the apron strings by then...I guess they weren't exactly wrapped around your wrist, now were they?"

How deeply scary the thought that she might have eventually drifted into marriage with this multi-centennial mama's boy, and gotten Darla in the bargain. Say hello to the mother-in-law from hell.

"She hardly ever came to see us," Riley protested, flushing bright red with anger. "Only when she could sneak away. And it was always 'Angelus' this and 'Angelus' that when she did come. When he regained his soul, we thought finally...but she was obsessed with him until the day he killed her."

He paused for a moment, remembering his feelings on that day; the clean, pure rage that coursed through his body. At last he had a purpose, a reason for his eternal existence. He would find his mother's corruptor, and destroy him as she had been destroyed.

"That's when I found you, Buffy," he said steadily, "as part of the plan to get to Angel. Imagine how I felt when I realized you're even farther gone on him than she was. Do you have any idea what it's like to be measured up against someone for 240 years...and never win? You try it and see if you don't get a little testy."

"My heart bleeds," Buffy sneered.

"It will," Darla promised her sweetly.

"So we're here because your kids can't cut the cord?" Angel shook his head slightly, careful not to unnerve his guards. "And I thought I had family issues."

"Poor Angelus, are you still fighting with your father's ghost?" Darla shook her head at him. "I've heard a great deal about your adventures while I was away. So much of it still goes back to him, doesn't it? How he shaped you with his scorn. Especially when it came to little Buffy."

"As I recall you were the one who wanted to have Sigmund Freud's blood on the rocks; what's with the family counseling?"

He wanted to bluff it out, but he could tell she wasn't fooled. All the mental and physical tortures he had delighted in inflicting during his reign as Angelus, he had learned at her knee. She knew where to find every version of a jugular.

"You needn't play games with me, my love. I know you, inside and out." She stepped into the circle again and stroked his bloody cheek, then smiled as she licked her fingers. "You gave her up just as your father would have expected, just as you were raised to believe was proper. Those laws were abolished a hundred years before you were born, but your father still believed them. He raised you to follow them."

She sounded so understanding, almost maternal. She had always taunted him that way, with calm and reason, driving him to the edge with the unrelenting pressure. And from what Buffy had said of Riley's character, he was apparently a chip off the old block.

"Did he ever explain the real reason he was leaving?" Darla asked as she turned to Buffy. A mask of false pity covered her smooth features. "No, I imagine not. And of course, since you're not one of us, you wouldn't know. According to the laws Angel was raised to believe, a man who can't make love to his wife, or give her children, is no man at all. He has no right to marry, legal or moral." She smiled mockingly at Angel. "Is that right, dear boy?"

Angel looked away, refusing to see the scorn he imagined in Buffy's eyes. He could almost hear his father's voice echoing Darla's words, as a warning. His father, however, had believed in them.

"The Brehon Laws?" Riley asked incredulously. "He left Buffy over those old things? Boy, there's one born every century."

Riley crossed his arms over his chest and threw back his head as he roared with laughter. Who would have thought old Angelus would give up his heart's desire to please a ghost, or out of some backwards sense of right and wrong? It was the funniest thing he'd heard in decades.

Darla beamed at her chortling son and hurried to join him by the bandstand. "Isn't it just precious?" she cooed, her own delicate giggle blending with Riley's deeper tones.

Tara bit her lip and resolutely held back the words of comfort that sprang to her lips. There was no time. Finally free of Riley's restraint, she slowly began to edge away from her brother.

Buffy looked steadily at Angel, willing him to face her. It was obvious from the shamed look she had glimpsed as he turned away that Darla had hit her mark. Suddenly his departure from Sunnydale made much more sense, in a crazy sort of way.

"You're kidding, right? So that was the reason behind the big farewell in the fog scene? You left thinking you weren't good enough because some dusty old law book told you so." She paused for a moment to steady her voice. "God, it was bad enough when I thought it was the Mayor who convinced you to go."

"It's not that simple, Buffy," he replied softly, turning to hold her prisoner with his eyes. "It's not something I consciously chose to follow, but everything I was raised to believe says I'm not enough for you. Even when I was a man, I wasn't, and now..."

"I don't care about who you were then," Buffy replied passionately. "I never cared about that part."

She wanted to grab him and shake some sense into him, but she didn't dare move. All she had were words, and she didn't know if they would be enough. She had always used words as a weapon, or a shield. Now she needed them to be a lifeline.

"It's the you that you are now that counts." she said urgently. "There's more to it than sex, you know. He can have sex," Buffy cried, jerking her head at Riley. "He has a pulse and he breathes too; so what? Don't you know you're worth ten thousand of him?"

Tara slipped silently along the walls and across the dance floor, until she stood on the edge of the circle, just behind Angel. She hung her head as though too ashamed to look at the captives, but from behind the curtain of her hair she studied the black crystals. Slowly she edged one foot closer and closer to the perimeter of the circle. Under her breath, she whispered in Latin, knowing Angel would understand her spell but his younger guards would not.

"Oh, isn't that sweet; your little Slayer's standing up for you. Of course she's got some father issues of her own, doesn't she Riley?" Darla smiled up at her tall son, and then noticed she was missing one daughter. A quick glance at the floorshow revealed her truant offspring.

"Tara," her mother said sharply, "Come away from there." Darla waved her hand to motion Tara to stand beside her. "Come to Mother."

Tara gave a guilty little start of surprise. Hidden as she had been by Angel's coat, she was able to scuff the toe of her boot into the blackened salt next to his foot as she moved away. It wasn't much, just a slight flaw in the continuity; but hopefully it, and her whispered chant, could break the circle's power.

With a quiet smile, Tara took her place beside her family.

***

Riley was getting bored. His grand plan for revenge against his mother's lover had been reduced to an episode of "This Was Your Life." Years of training, and centuries of survival, had primed him for action, not discussion and plot exposition. It was time to move on to the main event, before the yawning vampire guards lost all interest in assisting.

"Mom, I think it's time we moved things along," he said, with a nod at the guards. "The boys look like they're getting hungry, and frankly I'm a little bored myself. I have plans for Buffy and I for tonight, so can we just kill Angel and get out of here?"

Angel closed his eyes for an instant and breathed a quick sigh of relief. He could feel his tense muscles relax just a fraction in the knowledge that he was the only real target. He had been certain Buffy would be hurt because of him yet again, but it appeared Riley at least would be satisfied with his death alone.

If only Riley could convince his mother to be satisfied.

His mother was more confused than satisfied at the moment; Riley seemed to be under the impression he was the one in charge. She cocked an eyebrow at her only son.

"I think Mother's plans for Buffy will make your plans impossible, dear."

"But..."

"And stop calling me Mom," she interrupted with a pout. "This college boy routine isn't funny now that everyone is in on the joke."

"Afraid I'm going to have to agree with 'Mom' on that one," Buffy said. "Any second now you're going to start 'gee whiz'-ing her and I'm going to have to hurt you. Well, more than I'm already planning on doing."

Buffy knew what Riley's words had signaled to Angel, and as much as she loved him for it, she wasn't going to let Angel get away with it. Without looking at him, she edged her hand over to clasp his, behind the sheltering folds of his coat.

She was now connected to the only part of her world that counted. And she was not about to let go without a fight.

"Darla, he's right, and don't think it isn't killing me to say that," Angel said abruptly.

He could feel the warm strength of Buffy's hand in his, but it only served to remind him of what was at stake: her life. He had to persuade Darla to let her go, even if it meant siding with Finn.

"Pun intended, my love?" she purred at him, all smiles once again at the thought.

"I'm the one you want," he continued, paying no attention to her interruption. "Buffy is the Slayer; she was doing her job. I'm the one who betrayed you."

Buffy gripped his hand with bruising strength. "You are so not going to do this to me," she said in a low voice. "I won't let you pull all this Mr. 'Take Me, Take Me!' crap and walk out on me permanently. Don't you dare even try."

"I won't let you die," he replied softly, but steadily.

"This is all very touching, but you don't really have a say in my plan," Darla pointed out evenly. "It's my party and you'll die if I want you to."

"Now wait just a minute Mom, I mean Mother. You said I could have Buffy," Riley protested.

Buffy thought he sounded for all the world like a twelve-year-old gypped out of a new bike at Christmas. It was amazing how flattering this wasn't.

"Riley," his mother began, "I will not..."

"We agreed Angel was the one who actually staked you," Riley broke in, "and killing him was always the plan. Buffy is mine though; you promised."

"Well I sure as hell didn't," Buffy said sharply. "Just so we're clear, you're not actually getting either of us, but you're certainly not getting me." She wound her fingers through Angel's and clenched his hand fiercely, willing him to say something other than 'take me instead.'

Riley held up his hand to quiet her. The gesture was so condescending, and so overwhelmingly Riley, Buffy had to bite down hard on her tongue to keep from hurling herself at him to break off said hand.

"Buffy, please, I can handle this. Mother just doesn't understand."

"Oh hang it up, Norman. You're the one who doesn't get it," she snarled. "We are history. Maybe not what someone who was watching CNN the night the Pilgrims landed would call history, but we are definitely the nightmare that once was."

"This is too soon, Mother," Tara said urgently. "You said it was going to be slow, remember." She cast an anxious glance at the broken edge of the circle, and then forced her eyes away. She couldn't risk drawing any attention to what she had done.

"I'm bored," her mother retorted, scarcely sparing her a glance. All her attention was focused on her petulant son. She ran a soothing hand down Riley's arm.

"You know Mother likes to give you things to keep you happy when I can," she murmured, "and I really thought making her watch as I killed Angel would be enough punishment for her. But now I'm not so sure." Darla tapped her finger thoughtfully on her chin. "Angelus could have been salvaged eventually if not for her. She stole him from me, and then she destroyed him. Now, even if Angelus could come back, he would still be obsessed with her. No, I think the best thing would be to kill her first while Angel watches, and then kill him."

"Come on, Darla, can you think of any punishment greater than having you for a mother-in-law?" Angel forced a cockeyed smile on his face and did his best to wheedle. "Your chance for fun is just beginning with Buffy, but only if you let her live."

"With them? No thank you," Buffy said firmly.

Angel cast her a desperate glance, trying to tell her without words to be quiet while he saved her life. She saw the entreaty in his eyes, and her heart melted, but she would not give in. She loftily turned her head away; the matter was not up for discussion, at least as far as Buffy was concerned. Both, or neither, would survive.

"But Mother, you promised," Riley was still stubbornly insisting. He shook off her conciliatory caress and glared down at her. "And this was my plan to begin with; I should get to say who dies. It's just supposed to be Angel."

"Riley!" Darla snapped. "Stop whining! This isn't precisely my dream come true either. If those wretched lawyers hadn't pushed up the date because they wanted to get some contracts signed, I would have waited until Angel regained his humanity. Think how much sweeter it would have been to see him become human, have everything he ever wanted within reach, and then kill them both." She sighed heavily. "But no, they wanted things now, now, now. The living are always in such a hurry."

"What are you talking about?" For once unmindful of the weapons pointed at them, Buffy abruptly turned her head to face Angel. The hurt was clearly shining in her eyes. "What is she talking about? You're going to become human? When? Why didn't you tell me?" She stealthily, but swiftly, withdrew her hand from his.

"Oh, you didn't know that either?" Darla's good humor was magically restored. "Well, Riley said you didn't like to talk much, but I thought at least to your precious Angel...go on, Angel, tell your little playmate the big secret. I want to see her face when she realizes what might have been."

Darla grabbed the stunned Slayer's arm and turned her unresisting form slightly to face Angel. Then she backed up a few paces behind Angel and snapped her fingers at one of the minions, nodding towards a chair in the corner. The minion swiftly brought it over and Darla sat down, clearly waiting for the show to begin.

"Then it is true? Why didn't you tell me?" Buffy ignored Darla and concentrated on Angel's stricken face. "Is this another thing you thought I wouldn't care about? Or is this," she paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, "is this the thing you didn't want to admit you were hoping for?"

Angel was silent.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she prodded.

He didn't want to get into this here, now. All the times he had let himself imagine telling Buffy about his promise of shansu, he had pictured them alone, in a room filled with candles, and romantic music, and the intoxicating promise of a future to be shared.

Apparently all he was going to get was the candles.

"I didn't tell you because I don't know when, or if, it will happen," he finally admitted. "It might not be this decade, or even this century, and considering my line of work, surviving to see it isn't exactly a gimme." He shrugged slightly. "I didn't want you waiting around for me on the off chance I might start breathing while you still are."

"And you didn't think I should have some say in this?" she choked out.

When would he realize how much he hurt her by trying to shield her from pain? She didn't need his protection; she only needed him.

He looked deep into her eyes, pleading for her understanding. "Buffy, it's everything I ever wanted for us, but it's not a given...and I won't let you waste your life on a maybe."

Thrusting aside the issue of Angel making her decisions for her again, she concentrated on the essentials instead, as visions of the life that they might have shared flashed past her mind's eye. It was her dream made flesh, and now it would be over before it began.

"But why?" she whispered. "Who or what is going to be so harsh that they would give you life too late for us to get another chance?"

In this moment, she had no doubts about who he would live out his days with, if he could; they belonged to each other, and always would. She had to clench her hands into fists to keep from reaching out to him; she desperately wanted to feel his arms around her. But they were too exposed now, and she wouldn't give Darla any further excuses to kill him.

"It's supposed to be my reward from the Powers That Be," he replied with a sad smile. "If I help enough people, make up for the harm I did before, I will become human. But only they know how many people are in an 'enough'."

"Well, that little sub-plot ends tonight," Darla said, nodding her head to the guards.

"Mother, wait!"

* * * * *

Darla tapped her foot as she stared at Riley, waiting impatiently for an explanation for his outburst. Mortal or immortal, she still had places to go and people to kill; time was wasting.

Riley placed a gentle hand on her elbow to guide her into the far corner of the room. They spoke quietly for a few minutes, before Darla could be heard to say, "Fine. You ask and see what she says." Her voice had a certain 'mother knows best' quality that Buffy knew all too well. It never led to good things.

Buffy glanced at Angel and she could see he'd heard the same note of inevitability. They were fast running out of time to plot or plan; they had to take action soon and face the consequences.

Tara was huddled on the edge of the bandstand platform in a ball of misery. She wound her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth, desperately trying to divorce herself from the nightmare world surrounding her.

Riley strolled past his sister and over to the edge of the dark circle, stopping directly in front of Buffy. He pointedly ignored Angel.

"Buffy, I think I've solved our little dilemma. It required a little wheeling and dealing, but my mother is willing to give it the old college try if you are." He beamed at his suspicious ex, oblivious to her hostility. "All you have to do is say the word, and we can have you out of here in a jiffy."

Angel couldn't help rolling his eyes. "He actually talked like this to you and you still couldn't see he was from another time?"

"I thought it was the Iowa thing." She gave Angel a helpless smile.

"I," Riley said loudly, trying to draw Buffy's attention away from Angel, "I am prepared to offer you something wonderful, beyond your wildest dreams. Something he could never offer you," he finished with a sniff in Angel's direction.

"Actually, dear, he could," Darla said quietly. She shot Angel a venomous look. "He's just too much of a goody-two-shoes to do it anymore."

"I'm offering you immortality, Buffy," Riley said seductively. "You will live forever, never grow old or sick or die. No grey hairs to cover up and no sagging skin to stretch; just eternal youth and strength and beauty. Think about it."

For a brief, dizzying moment, Buffy considered it. At last she would be free from the persistent fear of an early death; she could spend each day with the glorious certainty that another day would follow.

She could spend each day with Angel, knowing that death would never be able to separate them. And when he regained his humanity, as she knew one day he would, she could make him immortal once again. They would be together forever, and maybe then he would find peace in living for eternity.

"Buffy, he means living forever with him," Angel said softly.

He had seen the faint smile on her face, and he still knew enough of her heart to know what put that smile there. She was dreaming the impossible dream.

She quickly snapped out of her beatific visions and stared at Riley in shock. Eternity spent in the arms of Riley Finn?

"As if!" Buffy snorted derisively. "Talk about a waste of a perfectly good forever."

"Buffy, I don't...I don't think you understand," Riley sputtered. "I'm offering you eternal life. Ever since you were called, you've feared death. I'm giving you a way out; out of all of it."

Riley stepped closer and put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. Buffy could feel Angel's arm tense next to her body, but he managed to control his urge to defend her. They both knew they couldn't afford to let their tempers get the best of them.

"No death," Riley continued, staring into her eyes. "No slaying, at least not vampires. You know, Mom and all." He shrugged slightly. "No more training or patrolling to interfere with our dates. Good-bye freaks, hello normal life. It will be perfect, Buffy. We can live anywhere you want, as nice, normal, everyday people, for the rest of...eternity."

Buffy stared deep into his blue eyes, searching for any sign of the man she had spent so much time with last year. Was this really sober, responsible, always-wear-socks-with-your-shoes, Riley proposing such a crazy scheme? Did he actually think she would go along with it?

"Are you listening to yourself? A nice normal eternity? Please!" She jerked her head away from his tight grasp and looked over at Angel. Her angry expression softened instantly.

"Maybe I am afraid of dying young," she admitted softly, melting under the gentle heat of Angel's crooked smile, "but there are other things I'm a lot more scared of, and you are so not the solution, Riley." She shifted her gaze back to her would-be one and only. "I actually would rather die."

"You mean you would rather die with him than live with me," Riley corrected her bitterly. "I bet if he was the one offering eternity you'd snap it up like that." He snapped his fingers in her face, hoping in vain for a flinch.

"Got it in one, Brainiac."

Darla smiled triumphantly. As always, mother knew best.

"I told you she would only want it for him," she gloated as she sauntered over to stand beside her son. "Still, you had to hear it for yourself. She's not worthy of you, Riley; she never was. She was just part of the plan, but now the plan is done. Angel is here, and he will die. And as long as she's here too, so will she." She laid a consoling hand on his broad shoulder as she steered him over to the space under the stairs. "Now be a good boy and help Mother light the circle on fire."

* * * * *

Angel's heart sank when he saw Riley pull a cigarette lighter from his pocket. It was time. It was time because there was no more time left.

"Sorry, fella," Angel said abruptly, looking over at the vampire holding a gun on Buffy. "I don't know about any of you guys, but if I'm going up in flames, I'm not going with this cramp in my leg. I need to move." Without giving the vampire time to answer, Angel extended one of his legs slightly and shook it, then forced his guards to back up a pace when he set his foot back on the ground.

Tara lifted her head from her knees and glanced over at Angel. She didn't say a word, but the tightening of her mouth told him she too knew the moment was at hand.

Angel caught Buffy's eye and nodded ever so slightly at the break in the circle, now visible just to the side of his boot. She glanced at it, recognizing in a heartbeat the opportunity it represented. She also recognized the danger, but there really was no other choice. Even as she and Angel silently communicated plans, Darla and Riley were approaching with torches.

For just an instant, Buffy locked eyes with Angel. Even if she had possessed the immortality Riley promised her, there still wouldn't have been enough time to tell her beloved all that she was feeling at this moment. As it was, there wasn't even time to say "I love you" before they threw themselves out of the circle and away from their captors.

Buffy flung herself sideways, hoping to knock Angel down and out of the path of the crossbow. At the same time he grabbed her to pull her down under him, out of the bullet's trajectory. Neither plan would have worked, were it not for Tara.

"Fire!" Tara screamed, leaping to her feet.

The vampire guards were startled, and a little confused, by her loud statement of the obvious. It threw off their timing just enough for the first shots to go wide, and allowed Buffy and Angel to roll several feet away before barreling into an enraged Darla. A moment later, the three of them were a tangle of arms, legs and fangs.

"Fire!" Tara shrieked again.

She pointed to the far wall, where the bullet fired at Buffy had struck a candle instead, knocking it onto the dry wooden floor just below a boarded-up window. The flames were swiftly climbing up the wall and spreading across the floor. The vampire minions took one look at the fire, which had grown almost immediately beyond their control, and fled. In their haste to escape, they knocked over most of the sconces, littering the floor with flaming candles.

Darla spared only a glance at the blaze before she returned to the cause for her fury - Buffy.

"You were supposed to stay in the circle." Darla threw down her torch as she scrambled to her feet, just an instant ahead of Buffy. "This one time you were supposed to do as you were told and die. All my plans, all the time I spent working with those idiotic lawyers, and it turns out to be for nothing." She hauled the Slayer to her feet by her hair, retaining a tight hold on the long blonde locks as she reached for Angel with her other hand.

"If I'm not going to listen to my own mother," Buffy grunted as she tried to pull free, "why should listen to you?"

She was too close to Darla to get in an effective kick, and she refused to use the 'chick fight' stand-by of fingernails. An elbow to the vampire's ribs served quite nicely, however, to put some distance in their relationship.

Buffy spared a quick glance at Angel, whose greater height had given him an advantage when Darla tried to pull him up. He easily avoided his smaller sire's grasp and shot Buffy a quick look, obviously questioning her preference of opponents.

"Much as I'd love to be the one to pound the immortality out of Riley," Buffy said between heartfelt kicks Darla-ward, "I need to settle my mommie dearest issues more."

"If you're sure..." Angel said, flashing her a grin.

"Knock yourself out," she sighed. "I mean, well, you know." She ducked to avoid a sucker punch and concentrated on her own fight, leaving her ex's to battle things out themselves.

Riley already had his hands full fending off a hysterical Tara when Angel reached him. The former commando hurled his sister backwards, under the loft, and focused his energies on defending himself from the enraged vampire.

The hall was rapidly being engulfed in flames. Darla's torch, carelessly thrown away in her pursuit of more active combat, had landed against one of the support beams for the loft. Riley's torch, treated with equal disregard by the former commando, lit the staircase on fire. Even as Tara ran from one end of the hall to the other, trying to beat out the flames with her shawl, the floorboards in the loft overhead began to groan alarmingly.

"You're not going to get him this time!" Darla screeched as she twined her arm around Buffy's neck. "They're both mine, and you can't have them!"

She lowered her head to the Slayer's neck and opened wide.

"Tell you what, we'll split them," the Slayer snapped as she butted her head back into Darla's face, "You can keep Riley."

Buffy couldn't get the leverage to flip Darla, and she couldn't force Darla's arm from around her throat. It was time for a very speedy switch to Plan B: her own leg twisted around Darla's leg brought them both crashing to the floor.

The moment she felt the vampire's arm slip from around her neck, Buffy pushed off of Darla and sprang to her feet. Before Darla could finish standing up, the Slayer pivoted and punched out with her foot, inadvertently propelling her nemesis backwards into the flaming staircase.

"No!"

Tara darted across the hall as she cried out, desperate to reach her mother in time. It could not be done; Darla burst into a flurry of ashes just seconds after the flames touched her skin. Tara swayed under the creaking loft, her voice rising and falling as she keened for the mother she lost almost 400 hundred years ago.

"Mother!" Riley bellowed, suddenly recognizing the burst of flame for what it was. He ran to his sister's side, but he seemed too shocked to consider leaving, or making Tara leave. He stared at the burning stairs, searching for the impossible sign that his mother had survived.

"We have to get out of here." Buffy grabbed Angel's arm, pulling him towards the door. "Tara, please!" she yelled to the distraught witch. "We have to get out of here!"

Buffy wanted to drag Tara outside, by her hair if necessary, but first she had to get Angel to safety. Unfortunately he had already shaken off her hand and started towards Tara, too intent on rescuing the hysterical girl to worry about his own extremely flammable self.

"Buffy, go!" he yelled over his shoulder. "I'll get Tara."

The enormous cracking sound from above swallowed Buffy's reply, as the loft came crashing down. A glancing blow from a flying timber knocked Tara clear, but left her unconscious on the floor just beyond the bandstand. Riley, standing directly under the loft, was not so fortunate. The burning floorboards from above pinned his legs against the burning floorboards below. He struggled feebly to kick the boards off, and tried to twist around to push at them with his hands, but to no avail. He collapsed in defeat on the worn floor.

Angel stopped in his tracks, suddenly unsure of where the greater emergency lay. A moment later Buffy was at his side, clinging to him with all her might.

"Oh god," she gulped, trying to see a way out through the smoke and the flames. "Angel, take Tara and try to edge along that wall till you get to the door. I'll get Riley and be right behind you." She pushed him towards Tara as she scrambled over the fallen sconces to get to Riley.

"No!" He stared at her in horror. "I don't care how strong you are, Buffy, you can't carry someone that size; he's too tall. Either you'll drop him, or lose your balance and fall yourself. Just get out of here. I'll take care of them."

In a few quick steps he was by her side, reaching down to pull her to her feet. She glared up at him as she pushed his hands away.

"His legs are moving; he can walk," she snarled as she began to yank the burning boards away from Riley. "Tara's out cold, and it's easier for you to carry her. And no way am I leaving you in here to handle them both, so for god's sake just get moving!"

Angel wanted to argue with her; he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to some place safe and peaceful and never let her out of his sight again. As usual, what he wanted and what he was allowed were two very different things. With a sigh, he bent over and easily lifted Tara into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

"I'm coming back in as soon as I get her out," he warned Buffy as he began sliding along the lone untouched wall. "I better meet you in the doorway."

Buffy watched him for as long as she could, until the smoke obscured her vision. The air was growing thick with the smell of burning wires from the strands of lights, and everywhere tiny bulbs were exploding from the heat, sprinkling the air with glass shards. She was having trouble breathing and the heat was scorching her back; still she persevered. Gritting her teeth at the pain from her now singed hands, she prepared to lift the last heavy beam off of Riley's battered limbs.

Suddenly an arm snaked up and slammed her forehead against the dusty floor next to Riley. Through the roaring darkness in her skull she heard a voice.

"We're not going anywhere, slugger."

***

Angel narrowly avoided a swinging timber as he slipped through the burning doorway of the old dancehall. He glanced back over his shoulder once more, straining to see if Buffy was behind him, but the smoke and flames obscured his view. Everything in him was screaming to go back inside and drag her out, but he forced himself to do his duty, as he knew she was doing. Tara had been left in his charge, and he must get her to safety first.

As soon as his boots touched the worn pavement beyond the doorstep, he took off at a run, scarcely noticing the unconscious burden in his arms. Time, he was running out of time.

Angel carried Tara through the heavily wooded area of the park surrounding the burning hall. He didn't stop running until he had reached a clearing well beyond the trees, but as soon as he thought they were at a safe distance, he gently laid her on the ground.

"Tara, wake up." Angel grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, then risked a light slap on her cheek. He had to go back for Buffy, soon, but he didn't want to abandon the unconscious Tara in a dimly lit park. "I don't want to leave you here, but...Tara, you have to wake up."

It was no use; she wouldn't wake up. He couldn't wait any longer. He began to pull his heavy leather coat off to cover her when her eyelashes flickered. A moment later she was staring up at him, dazed but conscious.

"Tara, I have to go," he said urgently, rising to his feet and backing away. "I'll be back with Buffy and Riley in just a minute," he promised her as he turned and ran back to the dancehall.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he stumbled through the trees and onto the pathway leading to the hall. The old wooden building was completely engulfed in flames. The doorway he had passed through just a few minutes before was a sheet of wavering yellow and orange with the barest trace of an entry between the walls. Chunks of burning wood were falling to the ground as the walls started to crumble, and as the boards over the windows became ash, one by one the windows were exploding outward, spraying the surrounding earth with broken glass.

"Buffy!" he shouted as he plunged into the inferno.

* * * * *

Buffy could hear the fire roaring even over the clamor in her head, but when she opened her eyes, she didn't understand what she saw. Dim memories battered at her skull, fighting for supremacy over the noise and confusion that surrounded her. She struggled against the strangely thick air, trying to fill her greedy lungs, and suddenly it all came flooding back.

Darla. The set-up. The fire.

Riley.

"That's my girl, breathe deep," he was crooning in her ear. "A few more like that and we'll be together forever."

Somehow he had pulled her under the beam that held him to the floor. She could feel the heat on the wood as the flames crept up from the end of the board. She tried to shake the fog from her head, tried to force her leaden limbs to move, but Riley lay as dead weight over her. She was pinned to the floor by both he and the beam, as the flames crept steadily closer. She had to get out from under both of them, but what would normally be simplicity itself was made impossible by the scarcity of oxygen reaching her brain.

"Get off," she croaked, swallowing a cough. "Get off!" She renewed her struggle for freedom, trying to clear her mind and center herself as Angel had taught her. If she could regain control of her mind, her body would obey.

It had to.

"We're going to die together, Buffy. Tara was right; the fire will destroy us both, and then we'll be together forever. Just you and me, no Angel."

His voice was so reassuring, so persuasive and relaxing. He was trying to draw her away from everything that mattered with the calming, cloying honey of his voice.

"Not on the likely!" she spit out, finally getting her arms into position under her body. She concentrated all her energies on her arms, forcing them to thrust her up and knocking Riley off her back.

Unfortunately she also managed to dislodge the last remaining beam restraining Riley. Even as she staggered to her feet, he was up and pulling her backwards into the bowels of the conflagration.

"We're not leaving, Buffy," he warned her. "I lost my mother to him; I will not lose you. You belong to me. Always."

Always. That was not a word Riley got to use, not if Buffy had anything to say about it.

Suddenly she could hear Angel's voice over the tumult of the fire. He was hunting for her, screaming her name. She had never been so relieved to hear his voice in her life, and never quite so terrified. One flame leaping in the wrong direction and the only thing that truly mattered in her life would be gone.

She had to get to him before he came too far in.

Fear for Angel gave Buffy the strength that fear for herself had not provided. She began to kick and punch the smoke-enshrouded image that was Riley, not caring so much about defeating him as escaping. At first he easily dodged her attacks, grabbing her when she tried to retreat and leave him to his fate. As Angel's voice grew closer, though, anger and over-confidence made Riley careless. He lost hold of Buffy and she managed to get halfway across the burning hall before he tackled her.

"The steroids helped, but I'm still pretty strong without them, Buffy," he crowed in her ear as he sprawled on top of her. "And even without air, I can't die. You can't win."

"That's what they always say," she grunted, "just before I win."

She scrabbled to position her weary body to force him off yet again. Angel was still along the outer wall, invisible in the smoke and flames, but audible. He was getting deeper into the heart of the fire, and closer to his own destruction. Buffy decided to treat her weakness as an advantage and used the force of her next gut-wrenching gasp for air to knock Riley off balance. Momentarily free of his weight, she crawled a few precious inches across the blazing floorboards before he grabbed her by the leg.

"Angel, get out!" she shrieked, giving in to her fear for just a moment. She knew it was the wrong thing to do almost instantaneously, as Angel's voice changed direction, following the beacon of hers.

"Buffy!" he cried out, unable to locate her with his eyes, but trailing the sound of her voice and his heart's instinct. "I'm coming, just hold on!"

"I wanted this to be about us, Buffy," Riley said in a voice so low she could barely hear it over the confusion of sounds. "But if you insist...I'll just have to finish what I started with both of you."

"That's it," she snarled, choking back yet another bruising cough. "Game over."

She put all her Slayer strength into her free leg, kicking backwards towards the sound of Riley's voice. A harsh gasp, and her two free legs, told her she had connected with his throat. She flipped over on her back and arched, springing to her feet in one fluid movement.

Riley came at her head on, and she was prepared to send him into oblivion to join his mother, when Angel came into view.

* * * * *

Angel had searched fruitlessly for Buffy with his eyes, and even his usual sixth sense for her presence was scrambled by sheer sensory overload. The noise, the heat, the flames reaching out for him, all disoriented him until he was afraid the building would fall down around all of them before he found her.

Then, above all the chaos, came the sound of her voice.

He changed direction immediately, abandoning the safer path along the wall to dash into the center of the room, where he found Buffy...and Riley.

Riley was charging at her full bore, apparently trying to thrust her against the wall where the fire had originally broken out. That whole side of the building was a mass of falling timbers, and the roof was groaning from its own inadequately supported weight.

Buffy was focused on Riley, but the instant Angel came into view, her attention shifted. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it gave Riley the momentary advantage of surprise.

For the space of a heartbeat, Angel thought it was over.

Riley connected with Buffy in a trajectory destined to hurl them both in the depths of the fire. Then, before the vampire's mind could assemble the information his eyes were receiving, it truly was over.

At least it was for Riley.

Angel had always appreciated the grace and power behind Buffy's fighting skills, but never more so than now. She had pivoted just slightly as Riley struck her, and used his higher center of gravity against him as she tossed him over her shoulder...and into the flames.

His scream was over almost before it began; despite his mother's assurances, his body was not quite human, and he turned to dust almost as quickly as Darla.

Angel wasted no time mourning the recently deceased immortal; in two steps he reached Buffy and grabbed her by the hand.

"We have to get out of here!" he yelled over the bedlam.

She stared at him in wide-eyed shock. The last four days had been a continual assault on everything she believed, culminating in unspeakable betrayal. She needed just a moment to absorb, to rearrange and regroup, but even this she was denied. For one brief instant, she shut down and hid deep inside herself, where no one else could find her.

No one except Angel, as his arms wrapped around her and solidly reconnected her to reality. He abruptly slid one arm down to position it under her knees, preparing to carry her to safety. She pushed his arm away and grabbedz his hand instead.

"Too slow!" she screamed as she dragged him towards the nearest lonely patch of untouched floor.

They moved swiftly, and not very cautiously, in their desperate race for the door. The roof over the rear of the hall, above the former bandstand, was caving in; they could hear the crash of the slate tiles as they hit the rapidly disintegrating floor of the bandstand. It created a domino effect, as more and more of the roof slid down into the gaping hole left by the absence of first tiles.

The door, when they reached it, was engulfed in flames, but there was no other way. Hand in hand, they plunged through, just as the remainder of the roof gave way.

* * * * *

Tara stumbled through the woods, following the sounds and smells of the fire. She staggered into the clearing as Buffy and Angel flew through what once served as a doorway for the former dancehall. The roof of the building collapsed in their wake, and the force of the slate hitting the floor hurled them away from the ruins and toward the trees.

They seemed to turn inward, towards each other, in their brief flight, enfolding each other in a protective embrace. They hit the ground with considerable force, still intertwined, rolling over and over again towards the tree line.

Tara rushed over to help, but by the time she reached them the vampire and the Slayer were both already sitting up and beating down the smoldering embers on each other's clothing.

"Are you hurt?" Angel asked anxiously, when the last of the glowing sparks had been smothered. He tenderly brushed the tangled strands of hair away from Buffy's smudged face to touch the bruise on her forehead. "Where did this come from?"

She coughed deeply as she reached out to touch the soot-covered scratches on his face. Fortunately, his vampiric healing abilities had already kicked in, and the wounds were beginning to close over.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," she croaked, her palm tenderly cupping his dirty cheek. "You?"

"A lot better than I was five minutes ago," he confessed. He pulled her more firmly against him, and sighed as her head came to rest on his chest. "That was too close, baby," he murmured as he closed his eyes in wordless gratitude.

"Are you two all right?"

Buffy reluctantly raised her head from its achingly familiar resting place to behold Tara anxiously hovering over them. A multitude of emotions cascaded over the Slayer as she gazed upon the witch she thought she knew.

Tara had lied to them, used Willow to get to Buffy and Buffy to get to Angel, and all so she could ultimately kill Angel.

On the other hand, Tara also helped save their lives, and in so doing consigned her own family to spend an eternity as air pollution.

"We're surviving," she replied at last. Another cough followed. "How are you?"

Tara looked away, towards the burning wreck of the dancehall. She knew without asking that Riley was dead now too, along with their mother. For the first time in centuries she was without her family, and from now on she always would be.

"I'm alone," she said wistfully.

Angel scrambled to his feet, pulling Buffy up with him. He wasn't ready to let go of his beloved yet, but he could see Tara was in trouble and his heart went out to her.

"I'm sorry, Tara," he said sincerely. "If there had been any other way...it was them or us."

"I know." She sighed, still staring deep into the fire. "I think my mother was right about one thing; this was all meant to happen. We were supposed to meet this way. In the end, everything unfolded as it was destined."

"I believe in destiny as much as the next girl with superpowers and prophetic dreams, but I think some of this could probably have been avoided." The corner of Buffy's mouth quirked up in a sad smile. "I am sorry, though, for you if not for them."

"You did what you had to. I understand."

Tara's voice sounded very far away, and Angel couldn't help wondering where in the mists of time her mind had drifted. Four hundred years of memories were now hers alone to carry.

He, more than anyone, knew the burden of such solitary memories.

"Alone is a choice, Tara," he said softly. "Willow is waiting for you, if you have the courage to tell her who you really are."

"And have her hate me?" Tara tore her eyes away from the wreckage of her past to stare at the man who so foolishly told her she had a future. "If I tell her the real reason I came to Sunnydale...she'll hate me. And she'll hate herself for exposing you both to danger. She'll never trust herself again."

"That's her choice." Angel's tone was gently, but firm. "You have to allow her that, and have a little faith. She's an amazing person; I think if you trust her, she'll come through for you."

Without thinking, his arm slipped around the most amazing person he knew. Despite all the heartache his past had caused her, tonight and so many other nights, Buffy still smiled up at him as she leaned into his embrace. There was nothing more amazing in the world to him than that.

"Why should she believe in me?" Tara cried. "I only used her to hurt other people."

"So you didn't really love her at all?" Buffy asked quietly.

"No! I mean yes!" Tara's eyes filled with tears as she looked from Buffy to Angel. "It was supposed to be just part of the plan, but she was so special...there's something about her I can't...I do love her, but she'll never feel the same way about me again, not after tonight."

"You have to trust her, Tara," Angel repeated. "Go to her now, before anyone else figures things out, and tell her the whole truth. Start at the beginning, from when your mother died."

Even after all he had seen and heard, it still felt strange to say "your mother" and know he was talking about Darla.

"Tell her how alone you felt, and how much you wanted to be a family again," Buffy urged. "She'll understand that."

"That was all I really wanted." Tara smiled pensively as she recalled the long struggle for her dream. "Mother and Riley are, were, the only part of my life that lasted, and I just wanted to be with them. I made such a mistake, though, when I made us immortal. We thought it would be wonderful, but it was so horrible."

Her eyes were caught once again by the hall that had become her family's funeral pyre, but she forced herself to look away. They were finally at peace, and she must be grateful for that much. Only she needed to continue the struggle now.

"You must be a much more powerful witch than you let on to do that kind of spell."

There was a trace of chagrin mixed in with Buffy's admiration. Somehow she felt that a slayer should be able to sense powers as strong as Tara's obviously were, and yet she'd never had a clue. She thought Willow was the source of their combined magick.

"I was, but that spell was my last until I met Willow. I knew, as soon as I cast it, that it was wrong." Tara sighed deeply. "My mother really was a good person once, when she was a person, but the mother I was trying so hard to stay with was already dead."

"It's hard to let go when you can still see the face, but not the soul," Buffy commiserated softly, thinking of Angelus. "You keep looking in the eyes...but there's nothing there."

Angel's hand instinctively tightened on her upper arm, letting her know he too was remembering those long-ago days.

As if he could ever forget.

"She still came to see us at night after she…I was scared at first, but Riley said she wouldn't hurt us. Whenever she came, she talked about eternity, and how we would spend it together when we were old enough." Tara's face might have been set in stone. "I knew what she meant. She wanted to turn us, but I was so afraid of dying. So I cast the spell, and suddenly dying wasn't an option. But she still came to see us anyway. Until she met you, Angel."

"She never told me," he said with an apologetic smile. "I honestly don't know what would have happened if she did. It's not like we're talking a normal relationship of `honey, now that we're dating, I want you to meet my children.' You're older than I am."

"I know," Tara admitted, "but it was hard after so long of being just the three of us. Suddenly it was just Riley and I. She hardly ever came to Kilcolgan after she met you," she finished softly.

"Kilcolgan?" Angel asked with a groan. He looked down at Buffy. "You never told me Riley's family came from Kilcolgan."

Buffy shrugged her slim shoulders, completely at sea now. "Hey, you're the one who knew a woman for a couple of hundred years and never asked her last name. I just met Riley last year."

He smacked himself on the forehead with his free hand. "I should have figured it out the minute Darla mentioned Kinsale. Not to mention little things like immortality. Nice going, Angel. Always thinking on your feet, or at least with them."

Buffy waggled her fingers in front of his face. "Umm, Earth to Carmen San Diego. Still not seeing the geographical duh factor here."

"The legends really took off in the nineteenth century, but even as a boy I heard stories about the Finns of Kilcolgan," Angel explained. He couldn't help staring at the embodiment of those half-forgotten fairy tales. "I never believed the stories myself, but…some people said they were fairies, others said demons. Everyone agreed on one thing, though; they never died. Not ever."

"Well, chalk up one more of life's great unsolved mysteries as solved." Buffy was somewhat beyond caring about Riley's home life by this point.

"It was only ten miles from my home in Galway," Angel continued, "but my father never allowed me to go there because something terrible might happen to me. If he could only see me now." He looked up at the sky overhead. "You're having a good laugh about this one, aren't you, old man?"

"We should have stayed away from the village," Tara admitted. "Every few decades we would leave, but we always ended up going back. It was home, and we knew Mother could always find us there."

Not exactly a selling point in Buffy's book, but she refrained from comment.

"So you never married, either of you?" she asked instead. "No kids in all these centuries? I mean, when you're immortal the prospect of a thirty-year-mortgage on a house in the `burbs can't be all that scary."

"We did marry, both of us, several times. And Riley had children, with some of his wives."

Buffy gulped at the plurals involved.

"But it was more for companionship than love," Tara continued, oblivious to the Slayer's reaction. "I refused to put the burden of living forever on anyone else, and how can you really love someone if you know they're eventually going to leave you?"

"You hope," Buffy and Angel replied simultaneously.

There was an awkward pause as the echoes of their joint answer faded away into the night air. Buffy suddenly realized she was clinging to Angel as though…as though she still had the right to cling to him. She forced herself to step back a pace and dropped her arm from around his waist.

Angel was as confused as Buffy, but he couldn't help the stinging regret when she slipped out of his grasp yet again. He wanted to hold her fast against him, but now was not their time. It was never their time. He regretfully returned his attention to Tara.

"What about Willow? Would you rather walk away than enjoy the time you have?" he asked gently.

"Even if she can forgive the lies, I can't ask her to live like this," Tara wailed. "I know what it's like; so do you. For a few years everything is fine; then the other person begins to age, and they resent you because you don't, and people start asking questions, or worse yet, making up stories. It's too hard."

"Together you might be able to reverse the spell, but even if you can't, I don't think you're giving her a fair chance," Angel said earnestly. "You're assuming everything for her, making decisions for her out of your own fear of rejection. Lay it all out before her and let Willow make the choice."

Buffy blinked her eyes several times. Incredibly, every time she opened them, it was still Angel standing next to her. Angel, who was now advocating mates making their own decisions and not giving up on love out of fear.

"Excuse me," she began, only to be overridden by Angel's increasingly urgent tones.

"You have to fight for what you want, Tara, and you have to allow Willow her fight too."

Don't make the same mistakes I have, he wanted to add. So very many mistakes, and yet his love still breathed and smiled and fought with the strength of ten, so how could he regret what he had done?

Very, very easily.

"But all the things I've done," Tara whispered as the tears slid down her face. "She'll never forgive me, and she shouldn't. I never believed what we were doing was right; I just wanted to please Mother and Riley. I wanted us to be a family, and I was willing to sacrifice others to make it happen."

Angel reached out and took one of her hands in his. "There's more mercy out there than you can imagine, Tara. As long as you truly regret what you've done, there's nothing so bad it can't be forgiven by the people who love you."

"I can't believe you!" Buffy shouted, finally reaching her breaking point.

Angel dropped Tara's hand like a hot potato as he and Tara both turned to stare at Buffy. Under all the soot, her face looked eerily pale in the moonlight. Tara may have thought she was ill, but Angel knew only anger or fear could drain the blood from his beloved's countenance so swiftly...and there was nothing more out here to fear.

"Buffy, what..."

"No `what' from you," she commanded him. "Just listen for a change. I bet you give that forgiveness speech to every person you help, every lost soul that made a bad call. But do you even hear the words anymore? Why does everyone get a shot at the brass ring of redemption but you?

"Buffy..."

"And what's all this newfound wisdom about letting people choose their own destinies? I don't seem to remember that being an option on my dance card. Why does Willow get to choose her future and I get dumped in a sewer?"

Her hands fell to her hips as she readied her battle stance. It was either that or wrap her fingers around his throat, and he still had some explaining to do.

"Tara made a mistake, one mistake, a very long time ago," Angel said quickly. He was determined to finish his sentence this time. "She's been paying for it ever since, and I think she deserves some happiness after all this time. Willow is the only one who can convince her of that, though." He paused for a beat, but Buffy had obviously decided to let him finish his explanation before she demolished it. "And if you remember, I wanted to wait until we got out of the sewer to talk but you insisted."

"So I don't get a say in my own life because you don't deserve it? Oh, that makes a kind of sense that's not." She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, determined not to let him in this time, no matter what soft words he used to get around her.

"Buffy, I killed people, I tortured people, and I enjoyed it. That's not the same thing as what Tara did. " Soft words and pretty speeches were not at Angel's command right now. He looked at Buffy helplessly as he continued. "I have so much to atone for before I can even hope to..."

"I didn't say it was the same thing," she interrupted. "But if you really believe forgiveness is out there, and it's supposed to come from the people who love you the most, why won't you believe I forgive you?"

"I do," he replied humbly. "I don't know why, but I know you do."

"No, you don't," she insisted. "If you did, you wouldn't have left."

"There's more to it than that, Buffy." His voice was quiet, but determined. "I wanted more for you than I could offer. You deserve better."

"Don't even start with that `normal life' song and dance," she warned him. "You didn't want me to have a normal life, you wanted me to have Marcia Brady's life, complete with a tall blond boyfriend on my arm and pom-poms in my hands."

"That was what you wanted," he reminded her gently. "You wanted it from the day I met you, from the first time I saw you. You had that all once and you wanted it back and you deserve it. But I can't be the one to give it to you."

"First of all, it's not your job to give me a life. I'm supposed to make one up as I go along. Coming in at number 2, I was fifteen years old when we first met. You think I haven't grown up any since then? Hint, hint, you're not the only one who can change."

"It wasn't just then, Buffy. Even last year, you told me all you ever dreamed of was to be a normal girl falling asleep in the arms of her normal boy..." his voice trailed off as he remembered, too late, when she had made that remark. He had carried the wound of that comment for so long alone, and in one heedless moment it was freed, to wreak unimaginable havoc.

She was staring at him in total confusion. His pale face glowed in the treacherous moonlight, showing her every line of pain their time together had drawn on it. She had no memory of making the comment he mentioned; yet it seemed to be tearing him apart.

"What are you talking about? I barely spoke to you last year, and when I did it was about…but I never felt that way about him, and I wouldn't lie like that to you."

He was silent, frantically trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't actually reveal anything, yet wouldn't be a lie either. While he wrestled with that impossibility, Buffy filtered his silence through her own guilt.

"I know you have no reason to believe that, after what I said to you at the police station, but I honestly don't remember..."

He couldn't stand her shamefaced acceptance of something that was not her fault. He reached out and caught her hand in his, holding it up to his heart.

"Buffy, please stop. You never said that about Riley. You said it about me."

He paused, but she seemed unable to form questions yet; she still needed more backstory. With a sigh, he took a step closer and rested his other hand on her waist.

"When you came after Thanksgiving, and we fought the Morah demon, something more happened than you remember. The demon's blood got on me, and it brought me back to life." His hand slid from her waist up to the back of her neck, resting in the warm cradle created when she tilted her head up to look at him. "For one day, one perfect day, I was human again, and we were together, and normal." He emphasized the last word, hoping she would realize where his quote had come from. "Then I..."

"Gave it back," she finished for him in a dead tone. "I've had dreams, but I thought that's all they were. Dreams turned nightmares, but they were real. It was real." She stared at her hand resting over his heart, and remembered the feel of it beating against her own in her dreams. "And you gave it up."

"For you," he said with a nod.

"Without asking me," she corrected him stridently as she pushed him away. He stumbled back a step as she scowled at him. "The same way you decided to break up with me and leave town. It never changes. You are so sure you're not good enough for me, as a vampire or human, that you'll leave rather than risk me figuring it out too."

"I'm supposed to help you," he said steadily. "I'm not supposed to be a burden or a danger to you. But either way, human or vamp, I can't win."

"Well neither can I," she snapped. "I can't be a normal human because I'm a slayer, and I don't want to be a normal slayer. A normal slayer doesn't have friends or a job or live past the age of 25. And a normal slayer certainly doesn't fall in love with someone who drives her absolutely bonkers on a regular basis," she held up her hand to stop his instinctive apology, "and I'm not talking about Angelus' little tricks here either. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, but I can't beat that fact into your thick skull no matter how hard I try."

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm sorry I didn't...I'm sorry for everything." He threw up his hands at the impossibility of listing his many transgressions. "I`m sorry for things you won't remember to yell at me for until you're back home tonight brushing your teeth. What is the point of all this, Buffy? We're just opening up old wounds that are best left alone." His tone begged her to end this misery for both of them.

"The point is I need to know something here."

She stepped closer to him again, until she was pressed against his chest. As he bent his head down to listen to her, their lips were almost close enough to touch. Almost, but not quite.

"Are you ever going to let yourself off the hook for what the demon did?" she asked quietly. "You help people every single day, you risk your life for them, but you still don't think you're as good as the creep hustling porn on the corner because you don't have a pulse."

"What I did..."

"Was mostly centuries ago, and it wasn't even you," she finished for him. "I agree we should give Tara a second chance, because she's really trying to make up for what she did. What she did," Buffy repeated, "and did knowing what she was doing. Just once, though, I'd like to see you give yourself that same chance."

He didn't answer her; he didn't know what to say. He had done so many terrible things, and even when, and if, the Powers released him, he still wasn't sure he'd forgive himself.

"I give up, okay?" Now it was her turn to step back and throw up her hands in defeat. "Go ahead and stew in your own guilt if that's what gives you a happy these days. When you decide to be a grown-up and face our problems together, you'll know how to find me." She turned around and stalked into the woods.

"Make sure Tara gets back to Willow," she called back to him, without turning around. "You're the Sir Galahad wannabee. Go be."

Angel watched her helplessly, torn between following her and taking care of Tara. Duty and love warred in his heart, and he was captive to them both.

"You can go after her," Tara said quietly. "I'll be okay."

To be honest, she was surprised the lovers still remembered she was there at all; she really didn't want to further complicate their lives at this point.

Angel's quick ears caught the distant sound of approaching sirens. "No, I better get you home first, then I'll go after Buffy. She needs time to calm down, and so do I."

He strained to see Buffy's blonde hair in the distance, but she was already out of sight. He sighed, thinking of the battle yet to come. He was getting too old for this.

"She sounded really mad. I don't think I'd wait if I were you."

Despite his anxiety, he had to chuckle. And he thought he was getting too old for romantic games? Look who he was talking to.

Wit that thought firmly fixed in his mind, he placed a gentle, but firm hand under Tara's elbow and guided her to the path back to the college campus.

"She said `when,' not `if,' so she she's not ready to stake me yet. And she's right; I'll always know how to find her."

****

Buffy dropped down onto the curb and pulled her knees up under her chin. She was too far away to feel the heat of the flames or smell the smoke, but she could still hear the sirens in the distance. It wasn't over yet.

Four days, that was all it took. Four days ago she was hanging with her friends at the Bronze, patrolling suspiciously quiet cemeteries and putting off any life-altering decisions until some indeterminate point in the future. No one asked anything of her other than her presence, so she didn't have to play any games or pretend to feel things she couldn't. For the first time in a year she had permission not to feel anything at all. And somehow, in the dearth of expectations, she slowly began to rediscover the emotions she thought were forever lost.

Then came a sound she had never expected to hear again. The indifference she had been slowly trying to unwind from around her soul was stripped away in a flash, leaving her heart bruised and torn.

And Angel thought she was the one with the prophetic dreams.

* * * * *

This time she didn't hear any sounds from the past, or any sound at all, but suddenly she could sense his presence just the same. Some things, at least, never changed.

"I guess you found me." She didn't bother to turn around.

"You knew I would."

She didn't answer.

"It wasn't too hard really," he continued after a moment. "Only in Sunnydale would there be a cemetery next to the city park."

"Home sweet home," she sighed.

Angel approached Buffy slowly. There were so many things left unsaid, and most of them were probably safest left that way. But it was so hard. When he saw her small form crouched on the curb, alone in the dark, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay.

Lies, all lies. Nothing was the same; it never could be.

"How are you?" he asked softly.

"Peachy." One foot slowly extended to push a pebble around on the cobbled path. "Let's see...my latest attempt at a non-you romance literally went up in smoke, my best friend is about to get her heart broken, and I don't even want to think what Mom will say when she finds out I've burned down yet another public building. Just another day in the life of Buffy Summers, defender of the universe." She cocked her head to look up at him. "So how's your night going?"

He grinned with relief at her wry tone. If Buffy could still be sarcastic, she would be just fine.

"Compared to you, great."

"Happy to be of help." She returned her attention to her shoe.

The smile faded from his face. "How are you really? I mean about the whole Riley thing?"

Buffy looked off into the distance, trying to find the perfect way of expressing her current state of confusion.

"Would that be the thing where he turned out to be 400 years old and the son of your ex-girlfriend; the one who killed you before I did? Or are you talking the thing where he only dated me in the first place because he wanted to kill you?"

"Yes," he answered weakly.

She sighed heavily. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I know I should miss him or feel guilty or something but...I mean, what happened was horrible, but it feels like it happened to a stranger. It did, really. I knew I never knew him, but...I really, really didn't know him."

"It wasn't your fault, Buffy. You couldn't have seen this one coming."

"I never do," she sighed as she dropped her chin on top of her knees. "Did you get Tara home okay?"

"Yeah, I took her all the way into the apartment, made sure Willow was there and that they started talking." He looked down at his hands. "No guarantees, but I think they're going to be all right."

"Good. Maybe we can salvage at least one happy ending from tonight."

Buffy showed no signs of interest in leaving this quiet place, so Angel decided to join her. Noticing her slight shiver in the cool night air, he removed his leather duster and draped it around her shoulders.

"You look cold." He hesitantly sat down next to her, carefully preserving a distance between them.

She sat up a little straighter and wrapped her arms around herself, clutching the coat to her body. A brief smile tugged at her lips. "You know, one of the first things I remember about you is when you lent me your leather jacket outside the Bronze because you thought I looked cold."

Angel shrugged. "What can I say? You never remember to bring a coat when the weather first turns. I worry." Instantly he wished the last phrase back, but there was no reneging on it now.

"I still have it, you know."

"I know."

She stared up at the starry sky. This was a night meant for love and lovers. Yet despite all the tremendous, life-altering upheavals they had shared in the past 24 hours, somehow this awkward outreach was the best she could manage. She struggled for the words to explain all the emotions that now raged within her.

"I don't wear it anymore. I used to, all the time."

"There's no reason for you to wear it now. As big as it was on you, I think you outgrew it."

She turned her head swiftly to look deep into his eyes, trying to communicate with her heart what she could not find the words to say.

"That's not why. I wore it until…until Acathla came into the picture and I killed you." She raised her hand before he could interrupt her. "I didn't stop because of anything you did as Angelus, don't ever think that. I could always separate you from the demon, even if you have trouble believing it. I brought it with me to LA actually. I took one tiny duffel bag, but I made sure that big leather jacket was in there. For LA in the summer. Makes a lot of sense, huh?"

"It does to a vampire," he said with a forgiving smile.

"I stopped wearing it then. I took it out when I got to LA and I was going to put it on...and then I realized it still smelled like you. After all the times I'd worn it in the year I'd had it, it still smelled just a little like you, and I knew if I wore it anymore the smell might wear off. I'd already lost you, but I couldn't let that last little piece slip away." She blinked back her tears as she turned her head away.

A moment later she felt his hand ever so lightly stroking her hair.

"Don't cry, baby," Angel whispered. He leaned over, fighting the urge to take her in his arms. She was wounded, and all he wanted to do was kiss the pain and make it go away.

But all too soon he was going away, and if he held her now, the pain would be that much worse for both of them when he had to let go. He had spent too much of the past 24 hours ignoring that fact; he would not fail her again.

She wiped her eyes and forced a half-hearted smile. "I'll stop now. I don't want you to remember me crying when you walk away this time."

Angel drew back abruptly and dropped his hands onto the curb on either side of his body. He stared at the trees waving in the cool pre-dawn breeze, not daring to look at her righteous anger.

"I have responsibilities," he said steadily, "people who depend on me, just like you do. I have to go."

"I know. I mean I understand." She suddenly realized this was an eerie echo of their prom night conversation. "I really do understand this time, Angel. You were right when you left before, even if you were too polite to say the real reason."

He stared at her in total confusion. "Buffy, you know why I left. There wasn't anything polite about it. Sewer, remember?"

"Angel, please, after all we've been through tonight, we at least owe each other some honesty."

"Well, as you've pointed out, that's not always my strong suit," he responded glumly.

"Were you ever going to tell me? About the past human and future human stuff?" There was no anger in her voice this time; it had all burned out as she stared at the stars, waiting for him to return.

He thought about it for a moment, wanting to be as forthright as possible. She was right, he owed her at least that much. "About the future, if it happened, then yes, when it happened I would have told you. And the past, well, I was saving that for after the future one, if it happened in time. I wanted there to be some time, some happy memories in between it and us."

"I'm sorry you had to be the one stuck with all the angst this time. I wish...I wish I could remember it more clearly," she said hesitantly. "I have these dreams, but they're not really specific; they're kind of fuzzy and, you know, dreamish. Feelings mostly, not a lot of words, so I don't remember anything about saying I wanted to be normal with you being normal, but...I know I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I'm just not really good at expressing myself."

"Buffy, it's okay. You were only trying to tell me you were happy, and that's all I've ever wanted for you."

God, why did she have to remember any of it? They promised him she wouldn't, and as hard as it had been to carry on alone, at least he knew for once he spared her pain. Somehow, though, he managed to screw up even that.

"But I hurt you," she protested. "Even if things had stayed the same, even if you were still human, that would have made you feel like you weren't good enough before, and it's not true."

"I survived," he reminded her gently. "We both did."

"Thanks to you."

"It had to be done. No matter what we might have wished for…I couldn't see another way out." No need to mention the endless nights spent replaying that day, trying to see where he might have changed the bad and still kept the good.

Kept her.

"So once again our plans went up in smoke." She winced. "Okay, time for a new metaphor."

"I am sorry for all the things I've hidden from you; I promise there aren't any more."

"None except the real reason you left." Buffy wasn't about to let go this time without a fight. That was where she made her mistake the last time.

"You keep saying that, but it's not true," he protested. "You know why I left."

"Well, putting aside the whole legal thing, which I still don't really get, what do we have? Kids? I think my behavior this past year has pretty much proved that's not going to happen either, no matter who I'm with."

"Buffy, please..."

She raised her hand to rest over his cool lips. "Angel, I'm sorry," she said swiftly. "I didn't say that to hurt you, though why you should believe that after the things I said last spring, I don't know. I just mean..." She dropped her hand and looked away, unable to face him for this painful portion of her confession. "I did a lot of stupid things a lot of times and if it was ever going to happen, it would have already. So kids are a not, too. And sunlight is a dead issue, if you'll pardon the pun. I'm in class during the day and when I graduate I'll be at work, so I really don't need a daytime playmate." She sighed heavily. "What I need is a keeper. After the way I acted this year, I don't blame you for leaving."

"I didn't leave because of anything you did, Buffy. I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you."

She reached out and softly touched his pale cheek. "Always the gentleman. You left so I could grow up, and I realize now you were right."

"You have one of the oldest souls I know."

"Well then, welcome to the wonderful world of bipolar. Slaying made me grow up too fast, and then I think I grew backwards or something when you left, just because I was so angry that you thought I wasn't grown up enough for you." She took a deep breath. "But now I've had my playtime, and now I think I'm ready to start the real life stuff. Kind of like you are." She slid her hand down to clasp his. "I still have some growing to do, and so do you, Mr. I'm the Only One Who Knows How to Make A Decision, but I'd like to know that someday, when we're both a little steadier on our feet, we'll finally have that future we used to be afraid to talk about."

"Buffy, nothing's changed," he protested. "You know there's no guarantee that I'll ever become human, and without that we can't...we can never truly be together. Sooner or later that would tear us apart. I don't want that for you." He stared at the small hand clasped in his own. It felt so right, so natural, and yet it was not meant to be. The universe had other plans for both of them.

"Angel, I know part of what you thought I needed to be happy was sex, but I think you're wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, but...when we made love, it literally shook the soul right out of you. Has it ever been like that before?" She looked away for a moment. "Or since?"

"No!" He couldn't believe she would even ask him such a thing. He reached over and put his palm to her cheek, gently but firmly turning her head to face him. "No," he repeated emphatically.

She lifted her hand and held it over his on the side of her face. His palm felt so cool against her skin, so soothing, so...Angel.

"Then why would you think it would mean anything more to me to have sex with someone not you?" she whispered.

"That's not exactly the point, Buffy. I mean, fine, say you become celibate, I become celibate. Do you really think we can stay celibate together?"

He gently pulled his hand away and rested it in his lap. Touching her was too familiar, and too dangerous. He couldn't even bear to look at her; she was always so beautiful to him, and never more so than at this moment. But the closer they were, the closer he wanted to be to her. It was a vicious circle from which there could be no magical escape.

"I asked Willow to research binding spells," she confessed softly. "To keep your soul front and center in the event of a happiness emergency."

Angel's head snapped up. "When?"

"Last spring," she explained, "after you came to apologize for all the awful things I said to you. She hasn't found anything definite yet, but she's narrowing it down. And I think we can count on Tara's help now too, so you ought to be clause-free before you know it."

She closed her eyes for a moment to whisper a silent plea to whatever benevolent forces might be listening. Please, oh, please, let this be the truth, she begged; if anyone deserves happiness, it's him.

"Why did you do that?" His voice was an anguished whisper.

"What, you're the only who gets to make decisions for both of us?" she teased. When he didn't smile back at her, she sighed and explained. "I know you still don't believe it, but you are a good person. You deserve happiness, whether it's with me or not. And I don't blame you if you don't want me after all I've put you through, but..."

Shock warred with confusion in the dark depths of his eyes. She lived in every corner of his soul, her breath gave him the closest thing to life he would ever know; how could she believe he would forget the joy she gave him?

"Where did you get the idea I don't want you? It took me 241 years to learn how to fall in love, why would I forget so easily?"

"Because you've changed," she replied softly.

"Not that much," he protested. "Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. You taught me how to love, and to trust and to give something back instead of just taking. The day I first saw you was the day my life began."

"You turned your life around, not me." Buffy could hear the ragged edge building in her voice, and tried to calm down. She had to stay focused; she had to get through to him. "I saw how you are with your friends, and they really are your friends, not just friends-in-law. I saw you smile, and joke, and tease; I saw you taking charge and taking care of people and...and I think I'm even more in love with the man I see you becoming than the man you were, if that's possible, but I am so mad that it's happening without me!"

"It's never without you," he whispered as he reached out to trace the tear slowly sliding down her cheek. "You're a part of me always."

She caught her breath and steadied her voice. "Then prove it. Come back to me. Not now, not yet, but...don't close the door this time. I need some time to figure out what I want out of life besides you, and you need to do some major self-esteem repair." She smiled at him through her tears. "I'm not ready yet, and you're not ready yet, but I think together we may be ready sooner than you think."

He looked deeply into her eyes. They had been through so much during this time apart, almost as much as when they were together. The latest trip to hell may have been more metaphorical than in times past, but the ravages still showed in her eyes, and probably his own. Yet somehow they survived, and their love survived. It was almost enough to make a person believe in that elusive happy ending.

Angel stood up regretfully. "It will be dawn soon. I need to go."

"Angel..."

He could hear his father whispering to him, telling him to run before he hurt her again. The longer Angel's silence held, the louder his father's voice became, until at last the voice was shouting an endless litany of his failures and promises of future ones. He couldn't stand it; he had to make a choice, here and now, and hold fast this time. For once and for always.

"I won't close the door, Buffy. Not as long as you want it open."

As Angel looked down at her, his smile was full-blown, for the first time in almost a year. And, at least for now, his father's voice was silenced.

"So no more stupid `wait till I'm human' talk?" Her voice was filled with fragile hope. "I know we have to take things really slow, but I don't want to put off getting started while we wait for something that never really mattered to me anyway. I wanted it for you, Angel, not for me. I thought maybe if you were human, you'd believe you were forgiven and you'd feel...whole again."

"You make me feel whole," he whispered. "Only you."

"So that would be a `no' to the wait thing?" she asked impatiently. She didn't want to leave anything open to interpretation, or misinterpretation, this time.

"That would be a no," he agreed in a solemn voice, just the barest twinkle lighting his dark eyes.

She closed her eyes for a moment and whispered a prayer of thanks. Then she stood up beside him and took his hand. "I'll walk you to your car."

"I can give you a ride home," he offered.

She shook her head. "It's a nice night for a walk."

They wandered slowly through the cemetery and back to the park, hand clasped firmly in hand and Buffy's head resting on Angel's arm. When they reached the car he opened the door, but she put her hand down to push it closed again.

She thought quickly, desperate to keep him with her for just a few more precious minutes. "Hey, what about Cordy's shoes? She'll never let you hear the end of it if you forget," Buffy warned him.

Angel smiled. "I'll buy her a new pair. Or maybe I'll bring her back to get the old ones herself."

"Is that how this will work?" She wavered between doubt and delight. It all seemed to good to be true. "We can visit sometimes, and talk on the phone, and I saw a computer in your office last year so I bet you can do e-mail, though come to think of it, your office did blow up so maybe not, but..."

"We'll figure it out as we go," he interrupted her with a smile. He couldn't believe how happy she sounded proposing the same scheme she had hated so much last Thanksgiving. Maybe they really had needed that time apart, but now it seemed right that it should end. "You're right; we both need to deal with our own problems, but...aren't friends supposed to help with that sort of thing?"

"That's the rumor," she agreed with a matching smile.

"I really have to go," he said regretfully, looking up at the night sky. "As it is I might have to stop off on the way to get out of the sun."

She fingered the sleeve of his shirt, coyly glancing up at him through her lashes. "I shouldn't have kept you so long. I'm sorry," she murmured, not looking particularly repentant.

"No, you're not," he laughed.

Oh, how she loved the sound of that laugh.

"Well, if you insist on leaving...don't I get a good-bye kiss?" she purred, leaning against him as he leaned against the car.

He shook his head, his dark eyes for once unreadable.

"No, you don't."

She gazed at him in deep confusion. "But I thought..." she protested, until he tenderly silenced her.

His long cool fingers curved along her jaw as he tenderly brushed his thumb against her warm lips. He opened both heart and eyes, so that she might see the truth shining from deep within.

"I won't say good-bye to you, remember?" He smiled softly as his lips closed over hers.

She slid her arms up around his neck, clinging to him with all the slayer strength at her command. He held on to her just as fiercely, trying to imprint the feel of her body against his to keep him company in the lonely days to come. For just an instant, Angel remembered the way it felt to hold her and kiss her that last time, at the end of their lost day, believing it would indeed be the last time. The pain of that fleeting memory clawed at him, as always, but he finally had the strength to push it away. That was the past, and nothing could stand between them now. Not even themselves.

At last, when Buffy thought her air would run out, Angel broke the kiss and rested his head on top of hers. Her hair reeked of smoke, and he could feel the tiniest fragments of glass against his chin, but he didn't care. All he required of paradise was within the circle of his arms.

"I love you," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss in the hollow of his throat.

His arms convulsively tightened around her as he basked in that simple phrase. They had fought so long and hard for the right to say those words, and he would never take them for granted, even if he did actually live forever.

"I love you," he whispered huskily in return.

Eventually he had to release her and she reluctantly stepped back to allow him to open the car door. Angel climbed in, but he didn't turn the engine on yet. Looking up at Buffy as she leaned against the car, he couldn't help but grin; she looked like a little girl playing dress-up with her father's coat.

"I'm going to need this one back, you know." He tugged at the sleeve of the leather duster.

She pushed back one of the long sleeves of the coat to free her hand, and pulled up the collar of his shirt to protect his neck from the cold. Succumbing to an irresistible urge, she briefly slipped her hand inside the collar to twine her fingers in the hair that lay on the back of his neck.

"I'll bring it myself, special delivery," she promised.

He grabbed her fingers and pulled her hand to his lips to bestow the softest kiss imaginable, just a brief sketch of his cool lips across her warm skin.

"I'm counting on it."

With a twist of the key, and swift shift of gears, he was off; once again headed away from Sunnydale and Buffy. This time, though, she wasn't worried. That road ran both ways, and sooner or later he would be driving towards her once again. Some day, when the ghosts in him had been laid to rest, and the woman in her was more reality than potential, he would come back to her, or she would go to him.

In the meantime, she had some growing up to do, and he had some letting go.

But she had his word that they didn't have to do it alone, she mused. She could still call him, or maybe drop in unexpectedly, just to see the look on his face when she walked through the door. The look that said he'd been waiting for her, and only her, all his life.

Now that she thought about it, Thanksgiving might be the perfect time to do it. Two months should allow for plenty of personal growth on both their parts, and maybe this visit would help to ease the pain of last year's memories, and non-memories.

Who knows, she thought happily, maybe by then Willow and Tara could even have come up with a loophole-free binding spell. But if not, it would still be all right. Despite her missed chance for immortality, and Angel's soon-to-be loss of the same, for once she had no doubts that time was on their side.

With a chuckle of pure delight, she launched into an off-key version of "My Guy" as she began to the long walk back home.

Author's/Historical Note: In order of mention: the Battle of Kinsale, where Jamie Finn supposedly died, was real, and it was one of the most pivotal battles, and defeats in the history of Angelo-Irish relations. The Brehon Laws were also real, and they did actually contain statutes forbidding impotent or sterile men from marriage. This ancient code of the Gaels was abolished by the English in 1603, but after more than a millennium of observance and respect, the Irish did not let go easily. As late as 1921, the Brehon Laws were brought before the parliament of the newly formed Republic of Ireland in an attempt to reestablish them as the law of the land.

As for the Finn family of Kilcolgan, Co. Galway, well, there the facts were somewhat...interpreted. To the best of my knowledge, no mention of otherwordly connections was ever made about the family, but they fall into an odd but true category historically.

According to the English census of 1861, there was exactly the same number of Finn family members in the village of Kilcolgan (located just 10 miles southeast of Galway City) as there had been in 1841 census. This fact would not be so surprising were it not for the Great Famine of 1845. By 1848, the population of Ireland had decreased by more than 2 million, due to death and emigration. Two million gone, and yet the Finns remained as numerous as ever.

Kind of makes you wonder about old Riley, eh?

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