Part 5

They slipped upstairs quietly, careful not to arouse Dawn's attention or suspicions. Angel asked Buffy to take Connor somewhere out of his sight, but she refused point blank. She left the baby in her Slayer trunk, angling it so that Angel could see Connor from where he was chained to the bed, and she curled up on the floor beside the trunk.

"Buffy, I really think..."

She shook her head firmly. "No think; talk. Tell me...tell me about Connor."

Buffy wanted to crawl up beside her lover, shielding him with both arms and heart, but she accepted that there were some risks he was not willing to take. She bowed to his overpowering need to protect those he loved; how could she do otherwise, when the same need led her to fasten those chains in the first place? But she knew he needed to see what he was fighting for; he had to remember what was at stake for them as well as for himself.

"What do you want to know?" he asked softly. "I think we hit the high points."

She reached into the trunk and ran her finger down the back of one tiny hand. "I don't mean the mystical prophecy stuff; I want to know the 'boring-old-ladies-at-the-airport-with-your-six-pounds-of-photographs' kind of things."

So he told her. He told her about Connor's favorite lullaby, and the toys that were already loved beyond repair, and the way he always woke up with a smile on his face. Angel wasn't sure if he was telling Buffy to share this part of his life with her, or if he was preparing her for what lay ahead in her own life. He had a question in the back of his mind, but he couldn't pose it...not yet. She was still trying to hang on to the hope that he could somehow be saved, and even though they both knew his mind was unchanged, together they maintained the façade that all would still be well.

Buffy kept her eyes firmly fixed on Angel's face as he talked, though her hand periodically slipped into the trunk to reassure herself of the child's continued well-being, and of her only physical connection to his father. Finally it became too much to look upon her beloved without being able to touch him; she knew these were stolen moments at best, and each one spent apart was another minute added to the pile of wasted opportunities.

She stood up slowly, Angel watching her every move, and very gingerly she took a seat on the foot of the bed.

"Buffy, get back," Angel said quickly. He tried to sit up as the alarm bells went off in his mind, but the chains held him fast.

Buffy smiled a little at his struggle.

"See," she said breathlessly. "Snug as a bug in a tempered steel rug." She slid a little further towards Angel, casting a quick eye over her shoulder first to check on the sleeping baby. "Don't worry," she continued, as much to Connor as to Angel, "I'm gonna stay right here between you two until we know it's okay for the chains to come off. I won't let anything happen to either one of you."

"Promise me you'll keep him safe; that's enough."

"Well it's not enough for me. Or for him." She gave up her cautious approach and abruptly slid up to the head of the bed, stretching out beside her bound lover. One way or another she was going to get through to him how very much he mattered in her world. How could he leave when he understood that?

"Angel, did I ever tell you about Billy? The little boy with the nightmares?"

He was confused by the shift in topic but he tried to remember, sensing this was important to her. "I don't...I don't think so."

"It was a long time ago. He was in a coma...his Kiddy League coach beat him up for losing a game...and Billy's fear of the coach kind of spilled out into the rest of Sunnydale. We all started living our worst nightmares. Xander went to class in his underwear; Giles couldn't read; Willow had to sing in public...it was pretty bad." She frowned as a question occurred to her. "Actually...didn't you get hit too? It happened the first year I was in Sunnydale."

"If it happened during the day I probably slept through it." Angel tried to shrug beneath the chains. "When you've got the kind of memories I have, it's a little hard to tell the difference between supernatural mind games and plain auld lang syne."

"Oh. I guess I can relate...sort of." It's not as though she'd had many peaceful dreams since her return from the dead, especially the second time.

"It's not important now. So what was your nightmare?" Angel asked. He imagined a day filled with endless trigonometry tests, or perhaps time served with Cordelia's clique.

"My dad told me I was the one who broke up my parents' marriage, and I became a vampire."

"I'm sorry," he swiftly apologized, struggling yet again against the bonds that rendered him harmless and kept her safe. "To be like me...like this...it's got to be your worst nightmare."

"Yup. Number one on the fright parade." She could tell by the quick flash of hurt that darted across his eyes that he didn't understand. "I didn't mean that the way it came out...that's not what I was trying to say." Buffy shook her head impatiently, and reached out to gently stroke his upturned cheek with one soft finger. "I loved you then, Angel. Not as much as I do now, but I did love you. But even in my worst nightmare I couldn't imagine a world without you in it any more."

He smiled sadly, turning his head to press a fleeting kiss on her hand as it slipped down his cheek once more.

"I felt the same way about you. Then you died and I...learned to imagine."

"But I came back," she insisted. "And after all the times we've lost each other, I still can't imagine my life without you. That has to count for something."

"It does; you know it does. But I can't let myself be evil again, Buffy. Maybe it won't happen; maybe I'll be safe. But if I'm not, then no one else is either, especially Connor." He steeled himself to ask the question that had been haunting him since he became aware of the danger to his soul. "You have to protect him, for me and from me if necessary. I'm trusting the two people I love most to each other...will you please take care of him?"

"I'm not listening to this." She shook her head fiercely. "You are not bailing on me and sticking me with mommy duty; we are in this together."

In her rush to deny the need for the promises he asked of her, Buffy didn't realize the promises for the future she was making. Angel did, though, and a part of him rejoiced, hearing everything he had ever dreamed of being offered to him. Yet another part of him dreaded her words, waiting for their future to turn to dust yet again.

"I'm not trying to bail," he answered softly, "I'm being realistic. An adult. A parent." He spoke slowly and carefully, saying it as much for himself as for her. They both needed to hear this. "I'm sorry if this is bringing up memories of your mom, but I need to know that Connor will be taken care of."

"This has nothing to do with Mom," she flared.

"I think it does, at least a little. You're still angry that she left you. And that I left you. And Giles. And your dad."

"Some of you had choices." She glared at him. "Some of you still do."

"And I will make what I believe is the best one for Connor, and for you," he answered steadily.

"Don't try and weasel out on me with the nobility junk again," she countered. "You owe me, buddy. You owe me at least one future after all you've put me through the past hour." She abruptly stopped talking and turned to stare at him in open-mouthed wonder. "The past hour," she repeated breathlessly, waving her watch under his nose. "Angel, it's been an hour since we started arguing about this in the kitchen. Over an hour, really."

Angel struggled to roll on his side to catch a good look at Buffy's wristwatch. "Are you sure?"

"Look." She swung her wrist back and forth in front of his face. "Look," she repeated impatiently.

"Stop moving your wrist so I can," he said sharply.

Buffy immediately held her arm still in front of Angel's face, his dark eyes gazing intently at the small round disk that spelled out his fate.

"You said two hours, tops," she reminded him unnecessarily. "More than two hours would have been after dawn. It was a sunny day; I remember. You never would have made it away safely."

Angel's mind traveled back to that long ago night, trying to reconstruct a timetable. He remembered Buffy's short-lived party, and their good-bye at the docks. Then there was the trip back to the apartment for a change of clothes, and the hours of research in the school library. The trip to the warehouse, and fleeing from it after they escaped the Judge. Making love, slowly and sweetly, and then falling asleep in each other's arms.

Waking up as his soul was being torn from his body.

He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain of the last memory from his mind. The time; he had to focus on the time. It had been after dawn when he got to the warehouse that morning, but he'd spent hours wandering around the sewers, scoping out the terrain through new eyes before he'd made his grand entrance; he remembered it well. He remembered everything about those days, in excruciating detail. She was right; he was right. Two hours, no more.

He was safe.

"This...this is incredible. It really worked." Angel's gaze shifted upwards to capture Buffy's damp hazel eyes with his own. "She really did it."

"She sure did," Buffy choked out before she lay down next to Angel and wrapped her arms around him.

Angel returned her kiss with enthusiasm, but he was somewhat hampered in any further efforts to demonstrate his devotion by the chains that still bound him. After a few sweet moments losing himself in his beloved's soft lips, he managed to tear himself away long enough to mention his problem.

"Buffy," he whispered as he nuzzled behind her ear, "this would be a lot more fun if my arms were free."

"What?" She pulled back and stared at him in confusion for a moment before his predicament really clicked in. "Oh god, Angel; I'm so sorry." She was silent before a moment before she softly repeated, "I'm so sorry."

Angel heard an odd note of desperation in her voice. He twisted his head with difficulty, trying to look into her eyes as she pressed her cheek against his chest. "Sorry about what?"

She burrowed her head into his shoulder without answering.

"Buffy," he prompted, "what are we talking about?"

"This," she whispered. "This was the way it should have been the last time."

He knew what she meant, but he wanted to make her smile so he teased, "You mean the chains?"

She refused to be placated. "I should've been happy for you. I just got so tied up in myself when I first came back...it never even occurred to me that the not changing was about you and not about me."

"Buffy, I was hurt that you didn't trust me, but I do understand. We make love once and I'm so happy I lose my soul, and then the second time," he closed his mind to the memories of the lost day, "the second time nothing literally earth-shattering happens." Angel touched his forehead to Buffy's, looking steadily into her eyes. "It's got to send mixed messages."

"Well, you are the king of mixed messages," she admitted, feeling the burden of guilt begin to lighten.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "I learned from the queen."

"I never," she retorted indignantly, raising herself on one elbow to scowl down at him.

"So I'm still hanging out in these chains for aesthetic reasons?"

She couldn't help her giggle as she reached over him to begin unfastening the locks that held the chains fast, any more than he could help the reaction of his body to having her stretched across him.

Wriggling.

"Hey," she purred, "is that cell phone still in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

"Not funny," he grumbled. "I'm trying to behave myself...I mean I want to behave myself. For now...not, you know, forever."

"Glad to hear it." She stopped her efforts to unwind the chains long enough to press a warm kiss on his lips. For all his protests about trying to behave, he responded eagerly to her overtures. "Mmm," she mumbled against his mouth, "sweetie, I'm never going to get this off if you don't stop..."

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry," Dawn said breathlessly from the doorway.

Buffy tried to turn around to face the now open door, even as Angel fought to raise his body off of the bed to look for himself. The result was Buffy tumbling to the floor, while Angel watched helplessly from above.

"Dawn, we didn't, umm...we didn't think you were...umm, we didn't mean to..." Buffy struggled to find a suitable explanation while her sister's expression wavered between delight and abject embarrassment.

"I didn't know you guys were...last night I thought you told me you were going to go slow...or at least that was the impression I...umm, sorry." Dawn shrugged, turning up her palms to empty them, and her, of responsibility.

Buffy finally got to her feet. "We weren't," she said firmly. "I was trying to get these chains off of Angel and...and you probably want to know why they were on in the first place." Her voice trailed off as she considered the virtues of complete disclosure versus the blow to Dawn's pride when her big sister admitted neither she nor Angel had fully trusted her spell. "It wasn't what it looked like, really. I mean, we were kissing...and there were chains...and handcuffs...and chains...but it really wasn't..."

Dawn pressed one arm dramatically over her eyes. "There's such a thing as too much information." She peeked over her arm, smiling mischievously. "Unless you feel really strongly that I should know."

"Can we save the explanations for a time when I can add hand gestures?" Angel asked plaintively, wriggling on the bed the best he could given his restraints.

"Hey, watch the talk in front of the kid...s," Buffy scolded, her index finger waving at him in mock warning. Suddenly she grimaced. "Yikes. Channeling the Mom vibe for a second there."

"I think it's kind of nice," Dawn said soothingly. "As long as you don't start with the 'not on a school night you're not' thing."

Buffy grinned. "Or how about 'I don't care if you're not sleepy; just go to sleep."

"Oh yeah, or..."

"Ladies," Angel growled, "Really sorry to interrupt your bonding, but can we discuss my bondage?" He shifted uncomfortably, his movements still tightly constrained by the chains. "I hate to ruin another vampire stereotype, but personally I've always seen it more as a business tool than a social activity. Get these things off of me. Please."

Buffy looked at him oddly, a troubling memory surfacing at his words. There were so many things they hadn't talked about yet, and a lot of them she really wasn't looking forward to sharing.

"Angel, we need to...we need to get those things off of you," she finished hurriedly. Now, with Dawn there, was so not the time. Later, she promised herself; there was always later.

Angel hadn't missed the fleeting expression of pain in his beloved's eyes, but Dawn's presence inhibited him as well. The slam of the door downstairs, and the footsteps resounding on the staircase didn't help the situation either. He resolved to ask her later what was troubling her, and maybe then share a few of his own burdensome memories.

"Hey, whose car is in the driveway?" Willow called down the hall. Her voice got louder as she neared Buffy's bedroom, but it couldn't contend with Xander's.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, except for the basic black thing. Almost makes me think of..." Xander stopped talking as they came in the room and spotted Angel still chained to the bed while Buffy was working with the locks. "Angel. You know I almost could have called it." He took another long look at his old rival. "Except for the chains. That's a new twist."

"And what exactly is with the, umm, chains?" Willow asked hesitantly. Her eyes were caught with another image before she received an answer however, and all thoughts of chains flew from her head. "Where did Dawn get a baby? I was only gone overnight."

Dawn casually shifted Connor to her hip, as though she had done it every day of her life. "This is Connor. He's Angel's."

"Gulp." Willow looked anxiously from the baby to Angel, to Buffy. "Did you say 'Angel's'? As in...Angel's?"

Buffy nodded absently, her attention largely consumed by her all-too professional expertise with binding her lover. He'd have already been free if she wasn't so darned good at her job.

"Excuse me?" Xander held his hand up the air. "Am I the only one confused by the sudden rewriting of the basic rules of biology?"

The Slayer cast him a sour glance as she began to unwind the chains from Angel's chest. "What would you remember about biology? You slept through more of it than I did."

"Not when Miss French was teaching." Willow grinned at her old friend, reveling in the red glow now suffusing his face.

"Can we leave my hormones out of this? This is about Angel's weird science, not mine."

"Hey!" Buffy snapped.

"Lay off, Xander," Angel said sharply. His hands free at last, he began helping Buffy to untangle the chains around his legs. "You can say what you want about me," he continued, "but not one word about my kid."

"Sorry. I just meant...this is weird. You gotta admit that much."

"Even for you two," Willow added.

"Speaking of two's," Xander continued, "why is there? Two of you, I mean. Complete with kinky accessories." He perched on the edge of the bed. "Tell us a story, Daddy."

Angel glanced apologetically at Dawn before he answered. "I thought my soul was in danger. Dawn cast a protection spell, but it was a long time ago. I didn't know if it was still holding, and then when I woke up this morning I..."

"Woke up?" Xander asked, looking suspiciously at Buffy. "You couldn't have gotten here from LA in the daylight."

"No, he slept here. With me." Buffy sat down next to Angel, taking his hand in hers as she glared defiantly at Xander. "Not that it's any of your business, but we didn't do anything...soul-stirring."

"Except for waking up and seeing Buffy and Connor in the bed with me." Angel smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "That was enough to make me perfectly happy."

"That is so sweet," Dawn and Willow chimed in unison.

"Adorable," Xander added wryly. "Have to hand it to you, man; you still know how to make the ladies swoon. I'd find it impressive if it wasn't so annoying."

"The point is that he didn't lose his soul, because Dawn's spell is still holding. But until we knew for sure, we didn't want to take any chances."

Xander bobbed his head at Buffy in acknowledgment. "And those of us who would have died a horrible death if his soul did split two for one thank you."

"You're welcome," she said dryly.

"Of course that still doesn't explain where the baby came from," Xander pointed out.

Angel glanced at Buffy, raising an eyebrow in wry amusement. "You're right; biology is not his strong suit."

"Maybe if you just gave us a hint," Willow suggested hesitantly. "A first initial or something."

"Or maybe we'll just talk about it later." Buffy gave her friends a quelling glance. "It's a long story I really don't want to rehash right now." She leaned back against Angel's shoulder, relishing the feel of his arm automatically coming up to encircle her. "I want to enjoy the now for a few minutes before we go back down that road again."

Xander cleared his throat, strangely unwilling to inject cold reality into the situation. "And, uh, what about the 'then' after the 'now'?"

Buffy shared a questioning glance with Angel, each one trying to measure the other's willingness to let her friends into their love life again. Angel gave a tiny nod at last, signaling his agreement to the silent question in Buffy's eyes.

"Now," she said slowly, "and after the now, we start over. Hopefully with your support, but it's not a deal-breaker."

Xander's forehead automatically drew down into a frown. "Hey, easy Buff. I know I used to be a little...cautious..."

"Protective," Dawn said stoutly.

"Hostile," Buffy corrected, her voice still wary from bitter past experience.

"Jealous," Willow finished with a grin. "It's okay, Xander; we understand. You're a guy. Angel was on your turf."

"I am not turf," the Slayer protested. "Stop making it sound liked they took turns peeing on me."

Xander threw his hands up in the air, casting an imploring glance at Angel as the only other man in the room. "Boy, you make a few 'I'd like to dust that creep' comments and suddenly you're the bad guy." He looked over at Buffy, all traces of levity vanished from both face and voice. "What I was trying to say was that I used to be...whatever...about Angel, but I've grown up a lot since then. I don't know if this is what's best for you, Buffy...and I'm having issues with the whole Mother Buffy image..."

"She's not becoming a nun, Xander," Willow protested.

"Not if I can help it," Buffy murmured under her breath. From the grin on Angel's face, she knew he, at least, had heard her.

"But if it's what you want," Xander continued over their protests, "it's your life. As long as the curse is happy-proofed, I'm cool."

"And as long as you're happy," Willow chimed in. "Which any idiot can see you are." She nudged Xander with the toe of her shoe. "Even this one."

"I always liked Angel," Dawn said, tossing her hair over her shoulder both for emphasis and to protect it from Connor's little fingers.

Buffy smiled in relief. She wasn't going to lose Angel again for anyone, but it certainly made for quieter evenings if her friends were behind them.

"Okay, so we've got half the votes in and they're a semi-solid 'yay.' How about your crew?"

Angel couldn't hold back a small chuckle at her question, and his laughter only grew when he saw the patent surprise on Xander and Willow's faces at the sound.

"I wouldn't worry about them, Buffy," he finally managed to say. "I think they were almost as anxious to get the old me back as I was."

* * * * *

It was a magical week, and not in the sense that Buffy had come to associate with the word. There were no spells, no curses, no mystical powders or potions; not a single one. Of course, with a baby sharing their room, and a teenager in the next room, there was also nothing happening that once might have called for spells or potions, but somehow she didn't mind. Much. There would be time enough for that later; finally, there would be time.

Overall, Angel fit strangely well into the domestic life of Revello Drive. Buffy had the uneasy feeling that his life in LA was equally familial, but she tried not to let it bother her. He was happy, she was happy, Dawn and Connor were happy; why worry about the life that existed beyond the four walls of their sanctuary?

Buffy wanted to spend every available moment with Angel and Connor, but he insisted that she shouldn't rearrange her life for them. So she looked for a new job, and did the usual shopping and took the car to get an oil change. But every day ended with Angel, and Connor, and Dawn, by her side, and they made all the difference.

* * * * *

"Hi honey, I'm home," she caroled, slipping in the door late one sunny afternoon. "I've got good news too." She glanced into the curtained living room, but there was no sign of Angel. Further peeks into the kitchen and dining room also yielded no fruit; he was obviously upstairs. She ran quickly up the steps, eager to be reunited with the men in her life.

"Angel," she called as she walked into her bedroom, "didn't you hear...what are you doing?"

It was a stupid question; she could see perfectly well that he was packing Connor's things. Packing, as in preparing to leave.

"Cordelia had a vision," he said, tossing the baby powder into the bag. "A Fantori demon, Wesley thinks. They're strong and they fight dirty." He looked her in the eyes for the first time as he added, "They need me in LA."

"And we don't?" she snapped. A second later she sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she tried to collect herself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't do that. I know you have to go back; it's just...it's so soon."

He abruptly abandoned his packing and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside him.

"I know," he agreed, heaving a sigh. "It feels like everything was finally settling down and now this. I wish I could stay, but I feel like there's still things I need to do there." He shook his head resolutely; there was no point in wishing for things to be different when they were already so much better than he deserved. "If nothing else, I still have a few old enemies to take care of for Connor's sake. That demon hunter, Holtz...the one I told you about...I need to settle things with him once and for all so we don't have to be watching out for him all of the time."

She sat down beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder as she twined her fingers with his.

"You know, speaking of settling things, we never did settle the whole settling down thing," she reminded him. "We've been tiptoeing around the subject all week so that we don't spoil anything. But if you have to go, we need to talk about it."

"Yeah, we do." He paused for a moment, watching Connor stretched out in Buffy's trunk sucking on Mr. Gordo's ear. "I know you're tied to the hellmouth, even though it's supposed to be closed."

"It's not the hellmouth I'm tied to; it's Dawn," she said unhappily. "I can't make her move, not now. Maybe when she's in college...but that's two years away."

A trace of mischief sparkled in his dark eyes. "Buffy, I'm going to live forever, you're barely 21 and Connor can't even sit up yet. Two years is not that long."

She pursed her lips as she lightly punched his arm. "It seems like forever to me. I want to be with you...both of you. But right now..."

"Right now is not the time," he finished for her. "I know. I have things I have to do too." The smile left his eyes as he said, "Haven't quite caught the tail of that redemption balloon yet."

"Hey, no talk like that," she scolded. "You are the most redeemed person I know. But you have responsibilities, and while I don't like the idea that they'll take you away from me, I do understand. Sort of."

He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "My responsibilities aren't forever, though. I mean Connor is, but we don't have to stay in LA. Wes runs the business now; there's no reason he can't take over completely. Maybe I can open up a new office in Sunnydale eventually."

Her eye brightened at the thought of Angel back in Sunnydale permanently. "Hey, since I have this whole, you know, sacred anti-forces of evil duty anyway, maybe I can do it working for you," she suggested quickly. "With you," she corrected herself a minute later.

"With me," he agreed, grinning at the image as well as the amended expression of it. "For now I guess we'll have to do the weekend route. Actually I will, because it's probably easier for me to get away than you."

She grinned up at him. "Still think I'm going to take a whack at Cordy, don't you?"

"Let's just I'd prefer to try an ounce of prevention than have you pound out a cure."

"Spoilsport." Her smile dissolved an instant later, the frown that replaced it drawing creases across her smooth brow. "Speaking of pounding...Angel, you said you wanted to 'settle' things with Holtz. All that you've said about him makes me really nervous to have you do that alone. You can't leave until sunset anyway; maybe I could..."

The quick, decisive shake of his head put an end to her idea before she finished giving it air.

"Buffy, no. I need to do this alone."

"We're a team now; we're supposed to fight the bad guys together," she argued. "Except for, you know, when we aren't actually in the same town. But I can be in the same town." She could tell she wasn't convincing him but she couldn't stop trying. "I just need to ask Willow to keep an eye on Dawn. And, well, there's this job that..."

"Job? You found something?"

"Maybe. Probably. But that doesn't matter now. You do."

"I love you when you're overprotective." He smiled gently to remove any sting from his words. "But I need to do this alone. Holtz is part of my past, my old sins. I need to deal with him on my own, for my sake as well as yours."

Buffy drew a deep breath; it's not like she'd expected him to say yes. She wanted him to, she wished he had, but she hadn't really expected it."

"Okay, if you won't let me come with you, then leave Connor here." She saw the look of surprise on his face and hurried to explain. "I know it sounds crazy, and I know you probably don't want to leave him with someone who, until about a week ago, thought formula was something you blanked out on in a math test. I just have this weird feeling that he'd be safer here."

The surprise in his eyes turned sharply to something darker. "Did you have a dream?"

She frightened him; damn, that wasn't what she'd intended. "Angel, no; it's nothing like that. It's just...a feeling. Maybe because you're going up against a guy who let himself be quick frozen for two hundred plus years just so he could have one more shot at kicking your ass." She traced the line of his jaw with a gentle fingertip. "I don't think he likes you."

Buffy could see the tension ease infinitesimally, though she wasn't sure if it was because of her explanation or simply her touch.

"No, I don't suppose he does. And maybe Connor would be safer out of the range of fire, but...are you sure?" Angel raised one skeptical eyebrow as he added, "He's an awful lot of work, especially if you're starting a new job. Which, by the way, you still haven't told me anything about."

"I'll tell you more about it if...when...there's anything to tell about it. As for the lots of work part," she shrugged and turned her palms upwards, trying to look casual as she placed her faith in luck, "if we're going to make us work, I'm going to need to try out my balancing act on the high wire eventually."

"That's true," he conceded. He frowned, thinking the idea through carefully. "He should be safe here with you; Wolfram and Hart have no control here, and any normal demon who comes into town knows better than to mess with you by now." He couldn't help the pleasure sweeping over him, even as he quailed at the thought of leaving his son behind. "It shouldn't take me too long to take care of Cordy's vision and see to Holtz and then I can come back for a few days again."

She knew she should be happy, and she was...in a way. She was glad Connor would be staying, and that Angel trusted him with her, and that Angel would have to come back for him and then he could stay for another few days. But even so...

"You'll be careful, right?"

He didn't answer her with words, but he left her with no doubt that he had too much to survive for now to take any unnecessary chances.

* * * * *

Angel kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road before him, but beyond his position between the lane markers, he had no idea where he was. The mile markers flashed past, caught in the glow of his headlights, but they did not register. His mind was filled with images of Connor, and Buffy, as he had last seen them. They were together, and Buffy would keep his son safe; he knew this as well as he knew the sun would rise in the morning. But he would not see them at that sunrise, or for several to come. He would be in Los Angeles and they would be in Sunnydale and as much as he hated the idea he would have to live with it.

He should be grateful that Buffy felt such an instant connection with Connor...he was grateful...but he missed them. He missed them with every fiber of his being, and for the first time in a very long time he doubted the value of a mission that would take him away from the two people he was sure he was meant to spend his days with. Yes, he needed to make amends for the evil he had done, but how could neglecting those he loved make amends for anything?

It was with mingled gratitude and regret that he greeted the sign for his exit. The sooner he was back at the Hyperion, the sooner he could deal with the demon and leave...but oh, how he wished he was already headed the other way on that highway.

* * * * *

The office was in its usual state of chaos when he wandered in that evening. Fred and Gunn were playfully fighting over a book while Wesley recited the book's pedigree in an attempt to make them be careful with it. Cordelia casually flipped through a fashion magazine as Lorne watched, the two of them trading acerbic comments on the fashion violations contained within its glossy pages.

Business as usual at Angel Investigations.

"Excuse me," Angel said from the doorway. "I thought we had a demon to catch, but maybe I misunderstood."

"Angel," Wesley said, a faint smile fighting with the dull red glow suffusing his thin face. "You're back."

Cordelia glanced sharply at him. "And back without an escort. Where's Connor?"

Angel perched on the arm of the chair next to the door. Despite their talk he still felt a little awkward around Cordelia; he had a feeling he would for some time to come. For the moment he tried to address his comments to the groups as a whole, avoiding direct contact with her sharp brown eyes.

"I'm back because you said there was a Fantori demon running around town." He glanced around the room. "I guess I'm the only one who's worried about it, though."

Wesley's face turned still redder. "Yes, well, it appears we were mistaken. It, uh, wasn't exactly a Fantori."

"Angel," Fred said hesitantly, "you didn't answer Cordelia's question. Where's Connor?"

"He's with Buffy. If it wasn't a Fantori, then..."

"Buffy? You left him in Sunnydale?" Cordelia snapped. "Home of the happy hellmouth?"

Angel ground his teeth together, but he kept his tone calm and even. This time, however, he had no trouble looking her square in the face. "He's fine. Now do we know what the demon actually was?"

"It was a Sendezak." Wesley smiled weakly. "She was, umm, protecting her young when she attacked those boys. They were coming too close to her nest."

"A Sendezak?" Angel sighed. They were among the more peaceful demons, aroused only to anger in self-defense. If anything, he would need to protect the Sendezak, not the other way around.

"I can't believe you left him behind." Cordelia shook her head in amazement. "You'd barely let any of us touch a dirty diaper for the first month...not that we were exactly fighting over the honor, mind you...but still. And after a week, you leave him with Buffy...alone with Buffy."

"I'm sorry, Angel," Wesley said, ignoring Cordelia's diatribe completely. "The Sendezak and the Fantori really do look very much alike." He waved his hand at the back of his head. "It's really only the color of the crest that tells you which is which...and that alley was rather poorly lit."

"I know, Wes. I just...I wanted to...never mind." He sighed again. "I have things to do in LA anyway. Then I'm going back to Sunnydale. For just a few days," he added quickly. "I'll be bringing Connor back and...well...we'll see where we go from there."

"Does Buffy know anything about kids at all?" Cordelia pressed. "Normally I'd say she could ask Willow for advice, but it's not like our wacky Wicca would have been putting a whole lot of thought into the subject after she decided to be gay."

Angel felt a flash of exasperated affection, followed by the warm realization that there was nothing more, or less, to it than that anymore. Simple brotherly affection, mixed with the equally simple brotherly urge to strangle his annoying little sister. He'd been so busy the past few months trying to convince his heart that Cordelia was its rightful owner that he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed her friendship.

"Can we get off the subject of my son's sleeping arrangements, please? He's fine...better than fine. I came back to settle things with Holtz, among other things, and Connor is safer out of the line of fire right now."

Wesley's brow wrinkled. "Holtz? He's been very quiet actually. We haven't seen a sign of him or any of his compatriots in quite some time."

"Not since you left town, that's for sure," Gunn added.

Fred smiled brightly. "Maybe he left too."

* * * * *

"Dawn, could you get the door?" Buffy called from upstairs. "I'm giving Connor a bath."

"But I was going to do my homework," Dawn called back, snatching her hand away from the TV remote to cross her fingers behind her back.

"The door, Dawn, and count yourself lucky I'm not asking you to spot me this time."

Dawn shuddered at the memory of her last attempt to help with bath time. Warm water and baby boys do not mix. Still, her escape from the waterworks came with a price.

"Dawn, get the door. Dawn, get the phone. Dawn, go to your room," the teenager in question grumbled as she headed for the front door. "If those stupid monks had given me a longer name, I could have been out of the house before she finished telling me what to do."

She was still muttering under her breath as she yanked open the door and glared at the man standing on the doorstep.

"If you're looking for directions, I'm not old enough to drive yet," she snapped. "We don't have much money, so we prefer to be on the receiving end of donations. And if you're a vampire," she shook her head, "you sure have picked the wrong house."

"Vampire? Far from it." Holtz laughed softly at the private joke. "No, my dear child, I have a vampire problem myself, and I need help. Badly. I was told I could find it here."

Dawn looked at him suspiciously for a moment, and then reached around behind the door to grab for insurance.

Holtz smiled at the proffered cross and gently removed it from Dawn's hand. Slowly, making sure her eyes followed every move, he raised the crucifix to his lips and kissed it.

Dawn stepped back from the door, opening it wider as she gestured to Holtz. "You pass. Help is upstairs being all June Cleaver, but I'll call her."

* * * * *

Part 6

Holtz watched the blonde-haired young woman descend the staircase. Her steps were quick and light, her carriage self-assured. She did not lack for spirit, this slayer; it would almost be a pity if she had to die. Still, he'd faced greater pities than that in his long day, and die she would, if the need arose.

The choice was hers.

"Buffy," Dawn said to the approaching slayer, "this guy has some sort of vampire problem. He says someone sent him here for help."

Buffy laughed nervously, glancing from Dawn to Holtz as she cleared the last step and engulfed her sister's shoulders in a protective embrace.

"Dawnie, you really shouldn't joke like that. Somebody's going to take you seriously one of these days." She looked sternly into the younger girl's eyes as she carefully said, "Vampires? You know there's no such thing as vampires." Buffy switched her penetrating gaze to Holtz, sizing him up as she continued. "Dawn and I have a little game that we play...a game that we played when we were little, that is...about vampires and witches and, well, all sort of bump-in-the-night stuff."

"Please be at ease." Holtz's voice was smooth and warm, the better to soothe a conscience as guilty as this slayer's must be. "I too have experienced the unholy presence of the walking dead."

"That's zombies," Dawn pointed out, trying to be helpful. "Vampires are the walking undead."

Buffy grimaced at Dawn, but she let her arm relax its protective embrace. "She's really something, huh?" she asked Holtz. "My little dictionary of the damned."

Dawn drew herself up to her full height, looking down on her older sister as she asked, "Just who are you calling 'little'?"

"I am most sorry to intrude upon your evening," Holtz swiftly interjected. Time to get back to the business at hand. "I find myself with a most difficult dilemma, and I was told by a friend that you might be able to provide me with some assistance in resolving it."

"Who's the friend and what kind of problem is he so nicely sending my way?" Buffy asked suspiciously. "I'm not exactly 'Buffy for Hire' or anything."

"No, that's Angel." Dawn leaned against the banister, preparing for a good story.

Buffy glanced sharply at her younger sister again, suddenly wary of mentioning her lover's name in this stranger's presence. She couldn't put her finger on the why of it yet, but the man made her uneasy.

"Dawn, why don't you go up and check on the baby?" the Slayer suggested. "I put him in the trunk until I can finish his bath."

"It's not really a trunk," Dawn said, seeing their guest's eyes widen at Buffy's comment. "Well, it is, but it's not like we close the lid or anything. See we don't have a crib and Con..."

"Dawn," Buffy interrupted, "could you please go and check on him? Now."

"But Willow..."

"Is totally wiped and was going to bed right after her shower," Buffy finished for her. "And come to think of it..."

"I'm going; I'm going," Dawn said hastily.

Holtz let the sisterly bickering wash over him; he was too busy disguising his triumphant glee to give them any heed.

The child. Justine had been telling the truth; the vampire had left his child here. Holtz had not believed Angelus would make it so easy; he had thought to deal with the girl alone first, and then retrieve the child in the ensuing uproar. But he was here; Angelus intended to use his offspring to win back his deluded lover, and what better way than to allow her full possession of him for a time?

Now that time belonged to him, Holtz gloated.

* * * * *

Buffy watched Dawn slowly climb the stairs, waiting until the younger girl had rounded the corner before she turned her attention back to Holtz.

"I'm sorry," the Slayer said, waving at the top of the stairs. "It's a little crazy around here, well, always...but tonight especially."

"I did not realize you had a new babe...baby," he corrected himself quickly, "in the house. Perhaps I should come back?" He let his voice drop off suggestively as he took a step towards the door.

"No, it's okay." She shrugged. "We'll manage. And he's not exactly new...just a little new to us."

"An adopted child, and at your tender age. How very...charitable...of you."

"He's not..." Buffy eyed him sharply and decided in mid-protest to switch to a less dangerous topic. "He's not what you came here to talk about. So what is?"

"Ah yes, my vampire problem. Could we perhaps sit down to discuss it?" He glanced back at the dimly lit living room.

"I think we can talk better right here," she said firmly. "I don't have long to chat anyway."

"Of course," he murmured. "The duties of a new mother."

She flushed slightly, but did not correct him. "Vampires," she prompted. "You keep edging up on the subject and then running away after you ring the bell."

He smiled gently, sensing she was being humorous, though the reference escaped him. Bell? What bell? Ah well, no matter.

"They are fearsome creatures, are they not?" he asked instead. "Some more so than others."

"And your friend suggested you stop by to tell me this?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am?"

"You are the slayer," Holtz answered promptly.

Buffy touched the tip of her nose with her index finger. "Got it in one. And you would be..."

"You are the vampire slayer," Holtz continued as though she hadn't spoken, "who gave her heart to a demon and allowed him to flourish among his dark companions."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," she said with a sigh. "Most people don't drop in to casually chat about vampires; they're usually looking for one in particular." She looked at him narrowly. "Why Angel?"

"Angelus," he corrected her.

She felt a chill chase down her spine and outward to every extremity, though she wasn't sure if it was her slayer sense or her heart setting off the alarms at the sound of Angel's old name. It didn't really matter to her where the warning was coming from, though; the message was clear. This was way more than the average threat to her beloved, as though she faced even those with equanimity.

"Okay," she said slowly, biding her time as she fished for information, "so we're talking the bad old days here. Great, nineteen questions left. Or are you going to make it easy and tell me why you're looking for him?"

"It is you that I seek, my dear, just as I have said."

A sudden thudding of fist against wood on her front door postponed her quest for an answer that actually answered something.

* * * * *

Angel pressed his foot to the accelerator, urging the Belvedere to go just a little bit faster than its already excessive speed. He was wrong; he was sure he was wrong. They were all sure he was wrong. But if he was right...

"Angel, man, if we go any faster we're gonna need an air traffic controller to get us down." Gunn leaned forward from the back seat and laid a tentative hand on Angel's shoulder. "Ease up a little. Not all of us are already dead."

Angel's shoulder stiffened beneath the restraint, light though it was, but he backed off marginally on the gas pedal.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Maybe it would have been better if I'd come alone."

The way he wanted to; the way he'd tried to.

"Of course not, Angel," Wesley said heartily. "We decided, remember? One for all and all for one."

"For one what, is what I'd like to know," Gunn said, leaning back into his seat and slipping an arm around Fred's shoulders. "Do you really think that Holtz followed you to this Sunnydale place?"

"I don't know. But I couldn't get through on the phone, and he's missing, and..."

"We never said he was missing," Cordy said. "We said we haven't seen him, which used to be considered a good thing." She brushed her hand over her hair, trying in vain to smooth it down. It didn't seem to matter how short she cut it; Angel's car always trashed her best styling efforts.

Angel changed lanes, zooming past a white SUV that insisted on adhering to legal speed limits. "What it comes down to," he said, "is that we don't know where he is, but he could very easily know where I've been." Angel glanced quickly at Cordy as he explained himself for at least the twelfth time. "Even if he doesn't know Connor is still there, he could be going after Buffy."

"And we're what? Going to protect him from her?" Cordelia huffed an impatient sigh before she took pity on her friend. "If you think Buffy can't beat up Holtz, love really is blind."

"He's human," Angel answered sharply. "That makes a difference."

"See, I've never understood that." Lorne took Gunn's place hanging over the back of the front seat. "Maybe it's just the demon in me, but I must confess I take a little offense to the 'humans first' attitude in this dimension."

Cordelia made another futile attempt to smooth her hair, nearly knocking Wesley's glasses out onto the highway with her elbow.

"You mean because they roll out the welcome mats for humans back in Pylea? Try looking at things from my stall in the cow barn for a change."

She flung her arms down into her lap and growled in frustration. No wonder Angel used industrial-strength hair gel.

"I never said Pylea was the known as the hospitality planet," Lorne huffed, sliding back in his seat. "I was merely making an observation."

"Trust me, when you've had to wear a cattle prod as a choker, you lose all respect for the demons' point of view."

"And it's my fault you don't have the neck for large jewelry?"

Angel ground his teeth and focused on the road ahead, trying to tune out all the distractions that accompanied him. He didn't really care whether his friends were with him or not; the only thing that mattered was reaching Buffy and Connor. He had to make sure his family was safe.

He had to get home.

* * * * *

"Spike," Buffy said flatly, leaning against the frame of the open front door. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at her second uninvited guest of the evening. "Doesn't anybody stay home on a Tuesday night anymore?"

The vampire cocked his head to the side and smiled winsomely. "What can I say? I missed you."

Buffy's lips twisted in a sour reflection of his grin. "So exactly what part of 'darken-my-door-again-and-you'll-be-nothing-but-a-burp-from-my-hepa- filter' didn't you understand? I know it wasn't 'burp'."

"Rules have changed, luv," he replied, waggling his index finger in her face. "Ward's gone back to LA and left the Beav all by her lonesome."

"Even for you that's disgusting, Spike." She shivered at the unwelcome imagery. "And on so many levels."

His voice deepened, slipping from flirtation to foreplay before she could say 'cold shower.'

"You didn't used to think so."

Buffy sighed and straightened up. "Actually I did; I just didn't want to talk to you long enough to tell you so. And you know, come to think of it, I still don't." She started to close the door.

"You're gonna be sorry for turning me away," Spike called out hastily. "I can still help you."

Buffy stopped the door just shy of closing, then pulled it open far enough to allow him to see her face. "You want to be helpful?" she demanded. "Tell me one thing: do you recognize this guy?" She stepped out of Spike's way to allow him to see the unnamed guest in her living room.

Spike shot a fleeting glance at the stranger, and then returned his attention to his preferred object of attention.

"Can't say as I do, pet. But if he's bothering you..." Spike let his voice trail off suggestively as he flexed a leather-clad bicep.

Buffy shook her head as another tiny sigh escaped her. The funny way he talked, the use of Angel's old name, and now the lack of recognition on Spike's part...it all fit the timeline. Damn.

"Go home, Spike," she said wearily. "He's human; the best you can do is annoy him to death. And even if there was something else...I still wouldn't ask you for help."

"Have I ever refused?" He held up a hand in front of Buffy's face before her jaw could rise again to form a retort. "Yeah, well, old times there are best forgotten. You need me, pet; you just don't want to admit it. I'm the only one you could ever really count on. The only one who really understands what makes your ticker tick."

"Once upon a time I was desperate enough to buy that line, Spike." She looked him straight in the eye, her own hazel depths finally clear of the anger and fear that had bedeviled her as much as Spike. "But the truth is, I just needed to find someone deader than I was, and you fit the bill. Inside and out."

She shut the door in the face of the angry vampire without another word. Turning around, she leaned back against the heavy wooden door for support.

"So, Mr. Holtz, where were we?"

* * * * *

Inwardly Holtz applauded. She was a bright little thing, in most respects. He had to admire Angelus' taste in women...at least in this century.

"I was about to convince a very beautiful...and very confused...young vampire slayer to do her sacred duty and rid the world of the most vicious vampire ever to darken its face."

Or kill her; one would serve his purpose as well as the other, if not better.

"Darn!" Buffy snapped her fingers. "And here I thought you were here to talk about Angel. Guess the joke's on me."

"It will be a deadly joke indeed if you do not join me, my dear. Whatever sweet words the vampire may have plied you with, he is nothing but an animal. One day, when you feel most secure, he will turn on you."

"And you'll be right there to protect me?" she guessed. "Aren't you the hero type? Ready to stand up against the big bad vamp just for little old me, who you never met before today." She slapped her flattened palm against her breast. "That's just so touching; they ought to make that into a movie or something. Really. Do you have an agent?"

"You will not stand with me." He didn't phrase it as a question; there was no point. He had seen the answer in her eyes the moment she uttered the beast's name.

"I stand with him," she said coolly, dropping both hands to her sides as they formed into fists. "Always."

"Then you will die."

Buffy smiled, a slow bone-chilling smile that sent an unexpected shiver down Holtz's spine.

"I guess somebody didn't finish his homework," she drawled. "Cause if you did, you'd know you have to do a whole lot better than that in the way of threats."

* * * * *

Dawn slipped into the bathroom, choking slightly on the steam left over from Willow's long shower. She knew the pacifier was in here; she'd seen it on the counter that morning, right next to the hand lotion. Why it was in here, she didn't know. But Connor was fussing, and if she didn't find him a pacifier soon she'd never be able to creep back to the top of the stairs and listen in on the conversation going on downstairs.

Wait, there it was, hiding behind the mouthwash. Correction: behind Angel's mouthwash, since he had some weird hang-up about everybody swigging out of the same bottle. Like the germs they carried could ever hurt him. Dawn sniffed at the insult as her hand closed over the pacifier.

Just in time, she thought, hearing Connor's whimper through the open bedroom door. Any minute now that whimper would turn into a full-throated wail that would do a banshee proud.

"I'm coming, Connor," she called quickly, hurrying cross the hall and into the dimly lit bedroom.

* * * * *

"You don't know him," Buffy insisted yet again. She was getting tired of repeating herself, but Holtz was apparently deaf to all but the voices in his own head. "You know the demon; I know the man."

Holtz smiled, a distinctly pitying smile that grated on the Slayer's nerves.

"You see what you want to see," he said smoothly, "and for you it goes no deeper than the dead flesh upon his bones. You see beauty in the form and assume it springs from within."

"I know it does."

"You need it to be so," Holtz countered, "but he is so far from the perfection that you believe that..."

Buffy's exclamation cut off the rest of his speech. "Perfection? You think that I think Angel's perfect? Please. I've spent the last week of my life living with the man and let me tell you, perfect he is not." She rested one hand on her hip and raised the other to begin enumerating her lover's sins.

"He hogs the covers, and then blames me because he says I kick in my sleep and chase him over to the edge of the bed. He's always putting his cold feet against mine in the middle of the night and," she paused for a moment, and then reluctantly curled her index finger back against her palm. "Okay," she sighed, "I guess I can't hold the cold feet against him. But he's a total nazi when it comes to where you're supposed to squeeze the toothpaste tube, and he spends way too much time fixing his hair for a guy who can't even see the end result."

"Most amusing," Holtz said dryly. "I am certain you will keep Angelus laughing until the very moment he snaps your neck. Beyond even. That is, of course, if I am not forced to kill you first. It really is up to you."

"And that's another thing," Buffy complained. "You actually think you can beat me, don't you? I mean you look at me and you see a slayer, but you still think that a spiteful little Popsicle like you can take me."

"You are not a true slayer," Holtz replied flatly. "You could not be and let the beast live. I will be victorious."

"Yeah, uh huh." Buffy raised a doubtful eyebrow to accompany her scathing tone. "So do you think Angel could beat you? Even though he's supposed to be some major force of evil and you're Frosty the Snow-White Knight?"

"A vampire commands unholy strength, but ultimately the cause of the just will prevail. Whether I live to see it or not is of no matter."

"So that would be a yes. You think Angel could beat you, but you could beat me...even though you're looking at the only human who's ever beaten him? Do the math."

She smiled at the look of apprehension that darted across his face, but her victory was short-lived. A moment later a scream echoed down from the second floor.

"Buffy!" Dawn shrieked.

"Hold that thought," she advised Holtz before she turned on her heel and vaulted up the staircase.

He followed at a much slower pace, quietly humming a lullaby.

* * * * *

Buffy barreled into her bedroom as picture after picture of disaster flashed through her head. Connor falling; Connor choking; Connor just ceasing to breathe for no apparent reason...her own breath stopped at the last image. No, he was okay; he had to be okay. She would make him okay, no matter what it took.

She almost slammed into Dawn in the darkened bedroom as her sister frantically back-pedaled towards the door, trying to tug Connor out of the arms of a strange young woman. A moment later a half-asleep Willow plowed into Buffy's back, pushing all four girls, and the baby they struggled over, towards the open window.

Over the course of the week some necessary rearrangements had taken place in Buffy's bedroom, clearing space for two additional people to share it with her. The majority of her stuffed animal collection now resided in Dawn's room, the weapons were locked up downstairs in a plain but functional metal chest, and her slayer trunk had been moved to the side of the bed, no longer providing a barrier between the door and the open window.

Mr. Pointy, however, had escaped Buffy's cleaning efforts and remained partially hidden by the bed-skirt. Justine's left foot landed on the lovingly carved, and heavily polished, stake as she attempted to regain her balance. Kendra's pride and joy rolled under the uneven pressure, throwing Justine's weight backwards as her arms opened wide to cushion her fall.

"Connor!" Buffy screamed, in concert with Willow and Dawn. Six arms reached out to grab the falling child, and though Dawn was the closest the Slayer's hands stretched past her to snatch the falling child in mid- plummet. Buffy clung to the wailing baby for an instant, reassuring herself of his temporary safety, before thrusting him into Dawn's arms.

"Take Connor to your room and try to keep him quiet," she said tersely. "Lock the door and don't come out until I come for you." She thought of Holtz, waiting downstairs, and she thought of the planning that must have gone into this night. Things were far from at an end. "Until Angel or I come for you," she hastily amended.

Dawn awkwardly shifted Connor to her shoulder so that she could clutch Buffy's arm with her free hand. "Angel? But he's not even here...why would..."

"Just go!" Buffy growled, pushing her sister towards the open doorway. Before Dawn could protest further, Buffy had turned away to face Justine, who was slowly getting to her feet. A moment later the slayer heard the sound of a door slamming, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The pawns had been removed; now the real battle could begin.

* * * * *

Holtz scanned the hallway as he rounded the top of the stairs: one half- open door at the end of the corridor, and four closed ones ranged before it. He could hear the sound of voices coming from the opened room, but the noise held no interest for him. Justine had many talents, the greatest of which was a distaste for needless conversation. If she had possession of the child she would have already left the scene.

The so-called slayer, the traitor to her heritage, obviously maintained control of the room, and that meant the child would have been sent elsewhere. All he had to do was pick the right door while Angelus' playmate and Justine tried to convince each other of the rightness of their cause, and the depth of their passion for it.

The first knob turned under his hand with ease; probably not the right one. Still, the slayer could be wilier than she appeared, and at worst there might be weapons to be obtained within. Nothing would go to waste in this war: not time or effort or a good stout stick. One day, one glorious day, a stout stick would be the greatest prize of them all.

A stout stick and, Jesu willing, a filial hand to drive it into Angelus' chest.

* * * * *

Justine took her time standing up, gauging her odds at rushing the two other girls and beating them to the stairs. Not good. The window held more promise but she could easily get caught in the branches if she tried to climb down the handy tree, and jumping off of a second story roof held its own dangers. Her best chance seemed to lie with Holtz, and thus, with stalling.

"You don't understand," she began. "You need to let me take the kid; I'm here to rescue him." More or less, she admitted silently.

Buffy laughed sharply. "Rescue? From people who love him and take care of him? You're all heart."

"No, from a vampire." This girl couldn't be as stupid as she sounded; it had to be an act. "I know what you are, and you know what will happen to that baby if I don't get him away from Angelus."

"I know what will happen to you if you try," Buffy countered, her voice menacingly calm.

"He's a vampire," Justine insisted. "They kill people...for food, for fun, hell, for something to do on a Saturday night. Haven't you ever lost somebody you loved to one of them? Because I have; that's how I know what they are."

"You're lecturing me on vampire etiquette? You've never actually looked up my job description, have you?"

"Look, just let me have the kid and you and Angelus can live whatever lies you want." Justine glanced from one hostile face to the other, trying to project sincerity. "We don't need for things to get bloody."

Buffy smiled coldly. "I think we do," the slayer corrected her intruder.

A spell, Willow thought; one little spell to freeze this girl in her tracks. Paralyze her arms so that she couldn't pick Connor up. Paralyze her legs so that she couldn't run away with him. Paralyze her breathing so that she couldn't...

"No," Willow whimpered. She couldn't; she mustn't. If she gave in this once, all the months of self-denial would be for nothing, and Tara would be lost to her forever.

Buffy didn't hear Willow's soft cry; she was focusing on the stranger, trying to read her intentions, beyond the obvious ones. The Slayer took a step to the side, changing the angle of her attack and forcing Justine to back away from the open window and towards the corner formed by the bed and the wall.

"You came into my home," Buffy continued calmly, as though every nerve in her body wasn't screaming for her to throw this girl out the window and race back to Connor and Dawn. "You and your pal downstairs threatened my boyfriend, and my baby, and you think you're setting the rules?" Another step forward, the words rolling out of her subconscious without even registering as she stalked her would-be assailant. "If you get to walk out of this alive...and don't think because you're human it's a gimme...but if you do, it will be because you haven't actually harmed anyone yet."

"We're saving that baby," Justine insisted. "Angelus is a monster...and you must be one too if you've had the power to kill him all along and you never used it. A slayer!" She spat on the carpet to expel the bad flavor of the word. "You're not even human!"

"That tears it," Buffy snarled, launching herself at Justine.

Willow stepped back to remove herself from the fray; she sensed Buffy had the situation well in hand even without magickal assistance. That was a good thing, she reassured herself. One thought teased at the edge of her consciousness, however; both Buffy and the girl had referred to a partner in the kidnapping attempt. If there was another intruder, was she, or he, still downstairs? Still somewhere in the house?

* * * * *

As he moved from one door to the next, Holtz heard the sounds of battle only as background noise; a fitting accompaniment to his holy war. Who won or lost that particular skirmish was of small concern to him; the important thing now was to get the child out while Justine finished off the Slayer. He had no doubt...well, very little doubt, at least...that his Chosen One would be successful. No one knew better than he: righteous wrath was a powerful weapon.

And a wooden chair, applied with downward force to an old lock, wasn't such a bad weapon either.

* * * * *

"Buffy," the witch called out anxiously.

Buffy grunted as one of Justine's boots connected with her abdomen. The red-haired stranger was better trained than most humans her age, and very determined...for someone who was so completely wrong.

"Kinda busy now, Will," the Slayer muttered, aiming her heel at the stranger's chin.

"Is there someone else in the house?"

Buffy's heel connected with Justine's chin, making a sickening snap that almost covered up the sound of wood slamming against wood now echoing down the hallway. The intruder dropped to the floor without an outcry as the Slayer whirled to face the hallway framed by her partially opened door.

"Tie her up, Will," she ordered tersely. "I still have Holtz to deal with."

* * * * *

Dawn had heard the dull thuds coming from down the hall and tried to soothe Connor. These were noises he would have to grow accustomed to, given the family into which he had been born.

But when the teenager felt the pounding resound against the walls framing her own door, and heard the lock that stood guard between them and danger begin to pull away from the wood, it was all she could do to keep from joining in the baby's helpless whimpers.

* * * * *

Buffy darted into the hall in time to see Holtz shove open the remains of Dawn's door and step inside her sister's room. The Slayer bolted down towards her sister, never looking back to see if Willow was obeying her instructions, or caring if she'd left her best friend to immobilize a corpse. Connor and Dawn were the priorities.

The room was empty, save for Holtz, when Buffy ran in. Her eyes moved rapidly from one corner to the next, but there was no sign of Dawn or Connor. She knew in an instant where they must be, and prayed that she was right. She needed room to deal with Holtz, and she didn't want either her sister or the baby she had come to love so dearly to see what that dealing would encompass.

"This is the part where you give up and walk away, Holtz," she said, forcing the panic from her voice. She had to remain perfectly calm to get through this; there was no margin for error, and no time for pity. "You're not going to hurt him and neither is your little friend."

Holtz turned to look at her, his gaze revealing a tranquility Buffy could only dream about...if insanity was 'the new black' of the season, that is.

"I will not harm the babe," he said softly. Reassuringly. "I'm only going to kill you, you poor deluded girl." A smile flitted across his face. "I would have spared you if you had only joined me, but it really is better this way. When Angelus returns, he will find his woman dead..."

"His woman?" she interrupted. "You time-traveled two hundred years into the future just to listen to bad country music?"

"And his son lost to him forever," Holtz continued over her comments, "just as I found upon my return home one winter's eve. It's all so..."

"Not happening," she finished for him, shaking her head. "So very not happening."

He frowned, his eighteenth century mind lost in the modern wilderness of her grammatical structure. "I was going to say 'symmetrical.' Very symmetrical."

"See now you're talking math terminology," she complained, "and that always makes me cranky."

Holtz had retained the shattered remnants of the chair in his fists; he now wielded them as swords, slashing at Buffy with the jagged edges. She had thought it would be easy to get them away from him, but the madness of grief gave him an unexpected edge. Holtz had no regard for his own life or future; all he cared about was making Angel suffer, through Buffy's death or Connor's loss. He took foolish chances Buffy would not have expected, and used her surprise against her.

The fight edged closer to the closet door, behind which Buffy knew that Dawn and Connor were waiting for her to save them.

* * * * *

Willow finished tying the last knot around the intruder's ankles and bound the other end of the torn sheet to the bed frame. The girl was still unconscious, and from the looks of her swollen jaw she wouldn't be able to scream for help from her companion, but Willow tucked the edge of a clean sock in her mouth to be on the safe side. It wasn't as good of a job as Buffy would have done, but Willow had done her best to make the would-be kidnapper secure. Now it was time to help Buffy more directly.

Willow had heard of Holtz; Angel had explained his situation very clearly when he told the story of Connor's birth. The witch had felt Angel's guilt over the death of Holtz's family, and she could see that in some ways the vampire almost admired his enemy. So did Willow...in some ways. Just not in ways that would agree to Holtz bursting into their home and hurting Angel's son. Or any of the rest of them, for that matter.

Buffy could undoubtedly kill him, and if she felt the threat to Connor was sufficient she probably would; Willow harbored none of Giles' illusions about Buffy's ethics when it came down to protecting those she loved. But a dead Holtz could become a live Holtz just as easily as Buffy herself had resumed breath and pulse. Someone had brought him here, and any someone who could bring a man two hundred years into the future could bring him backwards a day for a do-over if he failed to survive.

Of course, that all depended on the illusory someone being able to find Holtz.

* * * * *

Given a few moments to measure her opponent's skill and lay out a plan of attack, Buffy would easily have been able to edge Holtz away from the closet door that shielded Dawn and Connor from his wrath. That same wrath, however, precluded preparation of any sort; survival was the watchword of the day.

Holtz fought not like a demon, but like a desperate man, which made him much more dangerous. When Buffy managed to divest him of the broken remains of the chair, he snatched another one from in front of Dawn's desk and began slashing it in the air to keep the Slayer at bay. When she wrested that from his control, he yanked the drawers from Dawn's dresser and used those as weapons. No item was too small or insignificant to escape - not the trashcan, not schoolbooks, not even the nail polish bottles that lay scattered on the top of the dresser.

"Hey!" she snapped, swatting at the bottles barraging her like so many armored flies. "Quit it with the bottle rockets. I get the message; I won't let Connor spend all his birthday money on junk."

Gradually, one painstaking footstep at a time, Buffy was able to get between Holtz and the closet door, but it was due more to dogged determination than slayerly skill. Nothing in her years of doing battle against the various forces of darkness had prepared her for an enemy who believed so firmly in his cause that he would pepper her forehead with bottles of perfume to hammer home his point.

"I will have," he panted, "the child. You will not...stop...me."

She kicked up and out, aiming for high on his chest. "You want a baby," she growled, "make love, not war."

She hissed with disappointment when Holtz stumbled and fell, only to drag himself to his feet yet again. No matter how many times she knocked him over, he always managed to reset himself like a homicidal bowling pin.

"He belongs to me!" The sole unbroken lamp in the room joined its compatriots in the mosaic of broken glass on the floor as an exclamation point to Holtz's cry, but not before it rebounded off of the slayer's skull.

The lamp stunned her momentarily, long enough for Holtz to start to circle back to the closet door. When Buffy realized what was happening, she mentally threw off her kid gloves. She had been trying to defeat Holtz without killing him; he was human and to use her destiny-driven powers to defeat him would be the same as murder. But in the instant she saw him stagger towards the wall, she realized that nothing short of his own death would stop him from taking Connor...and nothing short of her own death would make her permit that to happen.

One arm swiped across her forehead, clearing the blood away before it dripped into her eyes. The other hand curled tightly in upon itself, forming a fist that could flatten a vampire with only a marginal effort.

She had no idea what it could do against a human being when exercised without restraint.

* * * * *

Willow ran into the hallway in time to see Holtz flying out of Dawn's bedroom and into wall opposite the door. Buffy was on him an instant later, hauling him to his feet only to throw him down all over again, this time at the end of the hallway. Holtz managed a half-crouching stance before the slayer reached him at the top of the stairs; Willow had the uneasy feeling Buffy moved more slowly this time because she wanted him to fight back just a little while she finished him off.

"Buffy, wait!" the witch called anxiously.

It was too late; Holtz was already on his way down the staircase, head first.

"I can't stop now, Will," Buffy said breathlessly. She turned up her palms, though it sounded as though the decision had been wrenched from her, not offered up willingly to fate. "It's either him or Connor."

"But you don't have to kill him," Willow insisted. "I have a better way. A permanent way."

Buffy drew in a huge lungful of air, trying to recoup her depleted resources. "And death isn't...no, guess not." She shook her head sharply, her wary eyes watching Holtz at the foot of the stairs for any signs of returning consciousness. "We don't have time for you to boot up, though, Will, and I really don't think it would..."

"No, not computer help. Magick." Willow took a few hesitant steps towards her shocked friend. "I know I said I wouldn't any more, but I know of a spell...I found it when...well, that doesn't matter. But I learned it by heart and I know it will work. I know it."

Buffy knew she should refuse; her qualms over killing Holtz were nothing compared to the potential for disaster if Willow indulged her own dark side. But Holtz, damn his fanatical self, was already starting to stir on the floor below. Options, and time, were at a minimum.

"Do what you have to," the Slayer said. Holtz had forced all their hands, and there was no turning back now.

"Okay," Willow agreed breathlessly. "But when I say 'Now!' you have to back off. I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

Buffy started down the steps at a trot. "Can't promise anything," she called over her shoulder.

"Buffy, you have to!" Willow leaned over the banister, clutching it the wood so hard it began to numb her fingertips. "I don't know what will happen if you get caught in the middle."

Buffy stopped her forward momentum long enough to glance back up at Willow. The Slayer's face was calm and composed, so much so that it sent a wave of reminiscent fear through her best friend's heart. Buffy had looked just like this the night they fought Glory. The night Buffy died.

"I'll try, Will," Buffy said steadily, as though she and Willow had all the time in the world for philosophical discussions about life and death. "But if we don't stop Holtz for good, nothing else will matter anyway. Not to me."

* * * * *

Angel swore as the Belvedere's headlights picked out a sign by the side of the road. Sunnydale 40 miles. Forty miles. That translated to at least a half-hour, maybe more. The closer he got to the town that used to be home...that once again was home, thanks to Buffy...the colder and tighter the feeling in his chest became. What had once been a possibility was now a certainty - something was going very wrong. And with forty miles to go, there was every chance he would not be there in time to make it go right.

* * * * *

Willow began the chant as Buffy hauled Holtz to his feet. It didn't appear the man should have much fight left in him, but seeing the slayer so close to him again had obviously recharged his batteries. He was back in his knock-knock with the knick-knacks phase, snatching at any random curios he could reach to swing at Buffy's face. She concentrated on keeping him busy, listening with half an ear to Willow's voice as it grew progressively more strident. She wasn't catching on to the exact meaning of the spell, Latin still not being her favorite dead language, but she did recognize the words 'tempus' and 'corpus' in the rhythmic flow of the incantation.

'Corpus' was a not a word she could easily forget.

Buffy could feel the instant the air changed. Something crackled, but it was not so much a sound as a feeling; a sensation of immense power surging through an area of space not quite large enough to fit it. Suddenly the show became auditory as well, a rumble growing in the air above Holtz's head.

Buffy glanced up, and froze at the sight of a silvery swirl of clouds forming just below the living room ceiling, spiraling outwards in an ever- increasing circle of destruction. For an instant she saw the gaping hole of Acathla's mouth, and the lightning flashes shooting out from Glory's doorway to hell. She didn't even need to hear Willow shout "Now!" to know this was the time for all good slayers to decamp in the aid of their own self-preservation, but her momentary distraction had cost her dearly.

Holtz was too far gone in his quest to let anything divert him now. He didn't hear the witch chanting her spell, he didn't feel the earth trembling beneath his feet, and he had no idea of the circle of doom coalescing just above his own exposed head. He saw, and heard, and felt, only the traitorous girl trying to destroy him for the sake of Angelus. And in the instant he saw her shift her gaze upwards, he slipped his bloodied hands around her throat and tightened.

* * * * *

Willow was one with the vortex. Its power radiated from the center of her being, and though she had not moved from her post at the top of the stairs, from its core she could see the struggle that raged in the living room. She was the vortex, and it was she, until the time came to spin the web loose upon its prey.

She screamed, "Now!" at the top of her lungs, but in the instant before she lost all connection to the maelstrom she could see it was already too late. Buffy's attention had been drawn inexorably to the vortex, and Holtz had seized the advantage. Willow knew he couldn't possibly have the strength left to strangle Buffy, or even seriously injure her.

Holtz wasn't the danger now.

It was time that was the issue; time for Buffy to get far enough back to escape the pull of the fold Willow had opened in time itself. Ironically, it was a lack of the same that had prevented Willow from telling Buffy of the slayer's unique vulnerability to this spell. A spell cast to send Holtz back to the second in the flow of time when his molecules had escaped it.

What would it do to a body pulled forcibly back into the flow of time after it had left that dimension naturally?

* * * * *

The vortex spiraled outward with monstrous speed, and then swooped down just as fast, engulfing both the man and woman who struggled beneath it. There was a hideous wail - of man, of woman, perhaps of time itself - and then the vortex was gone, leaving only a brief shimmer in the air to mark that it had ever existed.

"Buffy!" Willow shrieked, running for the stairs.

* * * * *

Part 7

The Summers house was eerily silent in the wake of the vortex. The only sound to be heard was the pounding of Willow's feet as she bolted down the staircase and skidded to a halt in the doorway of the living room.

"Buffy!"

"Mmm, present...mostly." Buffy sat up slowly, rubbing her aching head as she surveyed her surroundings with bleary eyes. Too many missiles had rebounded off of her skull this night for even a slayer's comfort, and not all of them had been the physical kind. "Where's...where is he, Will?"

Willow crouched down next to her best friend, brushing the tangled locks of blonde hair off of Buffy's forehead so that she could assess the damages.

"He's gone," the witch said absently. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Buffy grabbed the three fingers waving in front of her and gripped them tightly. "Enough for it to really hurt if I start seeing how far backwards they'll bend," she warned. "Which I might just do if you don't make with the details. Where did Holtz go?"

"Back."

Willow started to stand up, her hands slipping beneath Buffy's arm to help her friend rise as well. Buffy forced her own arm downwards, keeping the witch on the floor next to her.

"One syllable does not a detail make. Back where?"

"To when he came from," Willow said, resigning herself to explanations before first aid. "It was a temporal vortex, designed to reunite his body with the point in time that the molecules left the natural time stream."

Buffy stared at Willow in horror. "Are you completely insane?" the Slayer demanded. "Send him back to the guy who sent him forward in the first place? Why didn't you just let me kill him and solve the problem for good?"

"You mean because death made such a lasting impression on you?" Willow pointed out. "Okay, well, I guess it kind of did...but not the kind we needed." She crossed her legs beneath her and prepared for the long version of the plan so briefly touched upon before its execution.

"Anybody who can airlift a guy two centuries into the future isn't going to be stopped by an easy fix like death, Buffy. He...or she...could have probably raised Holtz like we raised you. Or maybe Holtz would just get the day as a do-over, except of course this time he'd be clued in to bring an army or something instead of one girl."

"But now he'll just do it all over again anyway." Buffy closed her eyes and tilted her head forward, feeling the protest of her throbbing forehead as more blood rushed to it. "All that was for nothing; Connor...and Angel...are still in as much danger as before. More, maybe."

Willow shook her head firmly, a mysterious little smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "I said a temporal fold, Buffy, not a spatial one. I sent Holtz right back to the time he came from...not the place. He's here, in Sunnydale, just two hundred years or so ago."

Buffy's eyes flew open as she turned her head to stare at Willow. "Here?" she whispered, not daring to believe her ears. "Hellmouth sweet hellmouth?"

"Yup." Willow couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Who do you think he'll try to buddy up to first: the Spanish settlers, or the Shumash? One group won't like his accent, and the other won't trust the color of his skin." The witch was smirking; there was no other word for it. "Let's see his time traveling buddy help Holtz out of this...if he even survives the trip. You got him pretty good."

"I know." The smile abruptly fell from Buffy's face. "I would have done more if you hadn't come up with that DeLorean twister, Will. I would have killed him."

Willow reached out and clutched Buffy's shoulder tightly. "He wasn't giving you much choice. I mean what were we supposed to do?" She shrugged helplessly. "Call the cops and let them figure out how to keep a leash on him? Assuming we could even explain how and why he was here."

"I wasn't actually thinking it out that clearly," Buffy admitted. She stared down at her bruised hands, still smudged with Holtz's blood. "He was trying to take Connor away, and trying to hurt Angel. I couldn't let him do it."

"There's a reason you don't get between a mother lion and her cubs."

"But he's not...he's not mine. Not really." Buffy looked up at Willow, searching her friend's eyes for some shred of disagreement.

As always, she knew she could count on her Willow.

"That's not what you told that girl upstairs." Willow grinned at the memory; at least something good had come of the disaster. "I think you stated your claim pretty clearly: my baby."

"Oh yeah, umm, that." Buffy flushed and looked away. "Listen, can we...can we not mention that part to Angel quite yet?" She forced herself to face her friend again as she continued. "I mean we've just gotten back together and all and I...well, we're both a little wigged at how easily it all came together. I don't want things falling apart now just because he...I...we aren't ready to admit they aren't going to fall apart...if you know what I mean."

"Not in the slightest, but I can keep a secret. Which," Willow added hastily, "is kind of what I wish you would do. About the spell...the magick. If Tara found out..."

"Found out what?" Buffy challenged. "That you saved Connor's life, and Angel's, and maybe mine too? You weren't doing a spell for the thrill, Willow. We needed you tonight."

Willow stood up in one abrupt movement, and began to pace the length of the living room.

"But it's still magick," she protested, gesturing wildly with her hands. "Tara wanted me to stop...she said I was hooked...and maybe I really am because when you were fighting that girl I was thinking of the most awful ways to stop her...and then when I was tying her up I started thinking about ways to stop Holtz...and I hate to admit it but not one single solitary computer-y thought came to my head...not even hitting him with my laptop, which, well, I suppose wouldn't actually be very computer geek of me anyway...I mean, my laptop...but it doesn't matter because all I could think was spells anyway," she finished with a wail. "And if Tara found out..."

Buffy scrambled to her feet, suppressing a groan. Regardless of Willow's attraction to things magickal, the Slayer would be grateful when her own body stopped the war between physical and supernatural strengths and let her feel like her old self again. Superpowers had to learn to work together.

"Willow, relax." Buffy leaned over and stopped the witch in mid-pace to give her a reassuring hug. "I won't say anything; I promise." She pulled back, still holding Willow by the shoulders. "But you have to," she added firmly. "If you ever want things to be the way they used to be between you guys, you have to be honest with her."

"I can't," Willow answered fretfully.

Buffy sighed and dropped her hands down to her sides. "Look, we can figure that part out later. Right now we have to call Angel, and then call the cops. We might not have been able to explain Holtz, but I'm pretty sure the girl is from the present. Either that or she found a really progressive dentist way back yonder. I could have put on makeup by the light reflecting off her fillings."

"Meow."

The Slayer flashed her a quick grin. "That'll teach her to mess with the big cats."

* * * * *

Angel could see the flashing lights from the moment he turned onto Revello Drive, but he'd known they were going to be there for much longer. It had all been going too well; he had become, as Giles once aptly put it, complacent in his humanity. And now, as before, Buffy was the one paying the price for his arrogance.

"What the heck?" Cordelia exclaimed, leaning over Wesley to get an unobstructed view of the organized chaos that reigned on the Summers' front lawn. "I know you thought something was up, Angel, but since when does Buffy voluntarily call the police?"

"Maybe she couldn't, so someone else call...ouch!" Fred's voice trailed off after a sharp elbow dug into her side, followed by patently false smile of apology on the green face beside her.

"I'm sorry, sunshine," Lorne said smoothly. "Was that your hip? I thought it was mine."

"Uh, Lorne, you mind keeping that kind of confusion to a minimum with my girl?" Gunn asked, his polite tone at war with the possessive arm he tightened around Fred's shoulders.

Lorne raised his hand in pledge. "Down to the bare bones," he promised.

"Lorne, please," Wesley said. Normally Angel would have been the mediator, but Wesley could see his friend was too deep within his own thoughts and worries to even hear the conversation flowing around him.

Angel wrenched the Belvedere across the road and onto the edge of the front lawn, jamming the gearshift into 'PARK' and sliding out of the car without even bothering to turn the vehicle off first.

"Angel!" Cordelia called after him. "What do you want us to do?"

"He doesn't hear you, Cordelia," Wesley murmured, his eyes following the dark figure that ran up the lawn and disappeared into the open doorway. "We'll just give him a moment or two and then we'll join him."

"Join him in what?" Gunn asked uneasily. "I'm suddenly thinking the big guy's creepy crawlies weren't so all in his head after all."

"Then he needs us more than ever." Wesley shrugged his shoulders as he turned in his seat to look at Gunn in the back. "Whom else does he have?"

* * * * *

Angel bolted through the open door, ready to start bellowing Buffy's name regardless of any Brando-esque connotations his actions, and his leather coat, might inspire. Before he had time to open his mouth, however, he saw her in the hallway with Connor. The baby was resting quietly in her arms as she talked to a police officer, or someone Angel would recognize as a police officer when he could focus on anyone but his lover and their...his...child. Connor showed no signs of injury, but Angel could see fading bruises on Buffy's too-pale skin, and smell the hastily washed-off blood, some of it her own. But she was safe; they were both safe.

"Angel," she said, sounding pleased but not very surprised.

"Buffy," he breathed, reaffirming to himself that she was really here before him and not just a desperate dream.

She quickly crossed over to him, since he seemed incapable of movement or further speech at the moment, so great was his relief. Buffy pushed Connor into his arms, leaving one hand resting on the child's back. The other hand she extended to brush against Angel's cool cheek.

"He's okay," she said softly, reading the thousand questions and fears speeding through his mind and across his face. "We're all okay." She stood on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss on his frozen lips. "But I'm glad you're back anyway," she whispered against his mouth.

He freed one arm from around Connor and suddenly slid it around Buffy's waist, pulling her so tightly against him that the baby squawked in protest. For an instant Angel allowed himself the luxury of feeling her body against his, so warm and alive and here with him instead of in a cold, lonely grave in the woods. Then reason, and his son's cries, began to reassert themselves over his fears and he let Buffy go.

For the moment.

"Are you the baby's father?" the policewoman asked, her pen and notebook at the ready.

Angel could only nod, his eyes still following the prescribed pathway between his son's face and his lover's.

"Mr." the officer began, pausing to allow him to fill in the blanks.

"Just call me Angel," he said hastily.

"Okay Mr., umm, Angel, I need to ask a few questions and then I can let you all have some peace and quiet," the officer said smoothly. "Miss Summers alleges two strangers entered her home tonight, one presenting himself at the front door as some sort of evangelist while the other climbed in a bedroom window. She believes they were conspiring together to kidnap your son."

"Kidnap?" Angel asked sharply, his attention finally wrested from his beloved's face.

"The would-be preacher escaped," the officer consulted her notebook, "a middle-aged man, shoulder-length greying hair, a little under six feet tall and rather stocky." She looked up at Angel, her face carefully blank. "Sound like anyone you know?"

Angel could see Holtz's face flash before his mind's eye and a fury so great it nearly choked him swept over the vampire. With difficulty, he tamped it down for future use and concentrated on looking bewildered.

"I don't...I'm not sure. I'm a P.I.; you run into a lot of not-so-nice people in my line of work. You say he got away?"

He asked the question of the police officer, but it was from Buffy's eyes he received his answer. Something quick and dark flashed through her hazel depths, warning him of a less than clean resolution of the situation.

"He did," the officer affirmed, "but his associate, a young woman, did not. The paramedics should be bringing her down any second."

Angel didn't have to feign confusion this time; he had never pictured Holtz working with a woman, especially a young one. Holtz seemed too deeply entrenched in his Puritanical origins and the shattering of his family to have any interest in the opposite sex, even for business reasons.

"A woman? Do you know who she is?"

"Her driver's license says she's Justine McEnery, from Los Angeles. Does that name mean anything to you?"

"No, I don't know anyone named Justine. Did she say she knew me?"

The officer allowed herself a slight smile. "She's not actually saying too much of anything right now. The paramedics think your girlfriend broke her jaw...along with a couple other of her favorite bones."

"She was trying to take Connor," Buffy said indignantly. "I already told you, the guy was obviously some sort of diversion to keep me downstairs while she took the baby. If Dawn hadn't walked in when she did..." She shivered in honest fear.

"Is Dawn all right?" Angel asked swiftly.

Buffy smiled up at him. "She's fine. She screamed and that woke Willow up, so the two of them held the girl off until I got free from the guy down here and went up to help. I got in a lucky kick," she flashed an impudent grin at Angel, "and she caved like Xander faced with a box of jelly doughnuts."

"Miss Summers is pressing charges for breaking and entering and criminal trespass, but as the child's father you're the only one who can press kidnapping charges. I hope you will consider it."

"I explained I wasn't sure if you could," Buffy hastily interjected. "I mean you are in LA most of the time still, and that would mean traveling here a lot to testify...traveling during the day...which I know is almost impossible for you." She forced a little laugh. "Because you're so busy and all."

Angel weighed his options. He could see Buffy's point; his "allergy" to the sunlight would make a trial difficult, if not impossible, to attend. On the other hand, if he couldn't kill this woman for threatening his son...and he was pretty sure Buffy wouldn't let him do that...then he wanted her out of the way for a very long time to come.

"How likely is it she would be convicted?" he asked, stalling for time.

"Honestly? Not great. She never actually left the premises with the child."

"Because we stopped her," Buffy protested, forgetting for an instant she was trying to persuade Angel not to press charges.

The policewoman nodded. "So you say. And I'm sure your sister and your friend would back you up. But since she never actually left the house, she could plead guilty to the trespass and claim she just picked the baby up because he was crying."

"While she was trespassing," Angel finished slowly.

"I know it sounds crazy," the officer shrugged, "but I've seen nuttier things than that get past a jury. For that matter, she could turn around and press battery charges against Miss Summers."

"For defending my home and my...boyfriend's baby?" Buffy asked. She didn't dare look at Angel to see if he noticed the slight pause in her protest; if he looked into her eyes he would read too many thoughts and feelings she wasn't yet ready to share with him yet.

"Afraid so. I'm not saying she'd win...but it would be messy."

"But you think the other charges will stick?" Angel asked.

"You can't predict a jury, but I would guess so."

"Then we'll go with just those," he decided.

The police officer snapped her notebook shut. "Fine. I'll need you both to come down to the station tomorrow to sign some forms, but for now I can get out of your hair." She glanced up at the top of the staircase as she headed for the door. "And it looks like the paramedics are ready to leave as well."

Angel turned around, leaving his arm draped around Buffy's waist as he watched the progress of the stretcher being carried down the stairs. The girl on it had her face turned away at first, but as they cleared the last step she rolled her head to look at him. Suddenly he knew why she had been with Holtz. The impotent rage in her eyes had found its equal in Holtz, and the two had fueled each other until an explosion was the only possible outcome.

It wasn't over; he knew that now. It didn't matter that Holtz was dead and his companion in revenge safely caged. As long as one vampire remained free to take or destroy lives, it would never be over. Each death deepened a well of hate centuries in the making, and whether or not he had caused that death directly he bore the responsibility for it indirectly because of what he was. What he might always be.

"It's not your fault, Angel," Buffy murmured.

He glanced down at her, amazed at the way she could read his guilty thoughts.

"Some...stuff...happened that made her want to hurt you, but it wasn't anything you did personally. She made you the fall guy because you were more vulnerable to attack. And that's what she was doing, Angel: not defending but attacking."

"I know," he acknowledged with a reluctant nod. He reached over and closed the door behind the paramedics, forgetting for the moment about the friends he had left outside. "It's just that every time I think I've got the final tally on Connor's enemies, someone new crops up. It's bad enough that he'll be held responsible for the sins I've committed; now he's supposed to take the fall for every other vampire in the world?"

"We won't let that happen," she promised, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He took her hand in his, lightly brushing his lips across her skin just to feel the resulting quiver traveling up the length of her arm. He needed some reminder that everything Holtz tried to take away was still here, and miraculously still his.

"And how will 'we' stop it?" he asked.

She tore her eyes away from the hypnotic play of Angel's mouth against her hand and grinned up at him. "I think you've forgotten just what it means to have a slayer on the home team."

"You and me against the world, huh?" he murmured, turning his head to brush his cheek against her hand.

"Who's crazy enough to try and stop us?"

Angel raised an eyebrow at her sudden optimism. "Do you want me to start making an actual list, or is reading it off of the men's room wall at Willie's a good enough approximation?"

"Eww." Buffy wrinkled her nose. "My name is on the men's room wall at Willie's?"

"You're the Slayer; you have almost as enemies as Connor." Angel took a step closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "And you know, they're demons...and some of them are even dead...but they're not blind."

Buffy heard the sound of a door closing on the second floor, reminding her that Connor was not their only audience. She shot a quick glance at the empty landing before turning back to Angel.

"Can we, umm, hold that thought?" she asked reluctantly. "I kind of need a favor."

Angel straightened, his temporary deviation into romance abruptly put on hold by the concern he read in his lover's hazel eyes.

"You've got it, whatever it is," he vowed. "You know that."

"It's Willow; someone needs to talk to her. You're doing really well with the whole conversation thing these days, and even when you were Mr. Monosyllable you still kind of knew the right words...word...to kiss away the emotional black-and-blues." She wagged a finger in his face. "But no actual kissing, okay? Just metaphorical."

"Metaphors coming up. Where is..." he suddenly stopped talking and sniffed the air. Something was wrong. "Buffy, what is that burning..."

Their eyes traveled together up to the top of the stairs.

"Willow," Buffy breathed.

* * * * *

"That's it," Cordelia declared. "I didn't get to wait for Godot thanks to that completely reactionary director who insisted on sticking to an all- male cast just because the playwright wrote it that way like a hundred years ago and..."

"Don't let Angel hear you talk like that," Gunn warned. "You know it just makes the man tense when you start making like a hundred years was a long time ago."

Gunn's own fingers had been restlessly tapping on the doorframe for the past five minutes, but he was not about to be the first one to cave in to the mingled forces of curiosity and anxiety pervading the car.

"And I'm not going to wait for Angel either," she finished, glaring at Gunn over her shoulder. Cordelia stretched over Wesley and pulled the handle to open the door. "We're going in. Now."

"Maybe we should just give them a few more minutes," Lorne suggested. "You know, time to tidy up after the break-in or whatever."

Wesley glanced at the driveway, now empty of emergency vehicles. "It appears the police have left the premises, and the ambulance as well. Since we haven't seen Angel yet, I presume Buffy was not the one they placed inside. That being the case, perhaps we could..."

Cordelia didn't see any point to letting Wesley complete his thought; he'd already given in and that was what counted. She pushed him towards the passenger door with one hand as she reached for the latch on the driver's door with the other.

"Great. Everybody out."

* * * * *

"Willow!"

The witch moved slowly down the stairs, still half in a daze from the magickal overload her system had sustained. At first her concern for Buffy had suborned the effects, but when her adrenaline had receded, the magick had not. A few stray sparks still jumped out from her hands as she ran her fingers down the banister.

Buffy tried again. "Willow!" she called anxiously from the foot of the stairs. "Hands! Fire! Bad!" The Slayer turned to Angel, dropping her voice. "She's not really functioning on all cylinders right now, so don't use any big words like, well, 'cylinder,' okay?"

"What happened? I thought you said everyone was okay."

"She is. It's just...well, she used magick to get rid of Holtz and she's a little freaked about it."

Angel kept a watchful eye on Willow as the Slayer reached out to take her best friend's hand. One renegade spark later, Buffy moved her hand up to hold Willow by the arm, leading the unresisting witch into the living room. She carefully settled Willow down between she and Angel on the sofa, and then Buffy reached across her friend to take Connor from Angel, leaving him free to concentrate on Willow.

Holding the baby had nothing at all to do with making herself feel better, Buffy reassured herself. Nothing at all.

"Maybe this would be a good time to tell me exactly what happened to Holtz," Angel suggested, gently holding Willow's chilled hands in his cooler ones. "I know he's gone...and I'm grateful, trust me. But I probably should know how. And where."

The front door opened before the witch could answer, and Cordelia hurried through, followed by Wesley, and guy and a girl Buffy didn't know, and a green...man. But it was Cordelia who captured Buffy's attention.

"You brought...them...with you?" the Slayer asked in disbelief. "Even, umm, the Lorne guy you told me about?"

Lorne beamed at Angel. "Can't stop talking about me, eh big guy?"

"I didn't bring anybody," Angel protested weakly. "I turned on the engine and suddenly there they all were."

Buffy nodded slowly, still not quite believing her eyes. "Sure. Dad goes out for ice cream and the kids all go along for the ride."

"They just jumped in." He shrugged. "I own a convertible; it happens."

She raised an eyebrow at him, her tone only half-kidding as she said, "Sweetie, unless you remember to keep the top up, we're going to have to get a mini-van to cart everyone around."

Cordelia held up her hands, warding off such a dire twist of Fate. "Oh no. We are not trading in the Batmobile for the Mystery Machine. That's out."

Willow perked up briefly, shaken from her self-recriminations by a flash of the old rivalry. "Hey, the Mystery Machine was a classic symbol of sixties counter-culture." She pulled her hands free from Angel's grasp and leaned forward, resting her weight on her fists. "A group of friends living communally, forsaking the lure of corporate America to travel across the country trying to make the world a better...well, at least a not-so scary...place. And if it was good enough for Scooby-Doo..."

"A dog," Cordelia cut in. "Good enough for a dog. Need I say more?"

"Less would actually be better," Angel began. "Maybe you should all..."

"Not to be dissing your heroes or anything, but something tells me corporate America wasn't exactly panting after the dog anyway." Gunn shrugged apologetically at Willow. "Or that Shaggy dude. How many times you think they serve doggie treats at a business lunch?"

"But Velma," Fred added anxiously, "I bet they wanted her."

Gunn nodded quickly, seeing the plea in his beloved's eyes. "Well yeah, Velma. Or maybe even that Daphne chick if you put her in a little Ally McBeal power suit, but..."

Angel tried to regain control of the situation. "If you could just go in the kitchen and..."

"Oh really," Lorne scoffed.

Angel was surprised at Lorne's sarcastic tone, but relieved to have been heard. His reprieve, however, was destined for a quick and painful death.

"Can't you just see a purple power suit?" the demon continued, rolling his eyes at Gunn. "The mind reels."

"And on a redhead, too," Cordelia chimed in. "Like that is a color they should ever wear on a non-colorblind planet. Even Willow knows better than that." She shot a quick, concerned glance at her old schoolmate. "You do know better than that, don't you, Willow?"

"Cocoa's ready!" Dawn called out, coming into the living room directly from the kitchen with three steaming mugs balanced on a wooden tray. "Come and get it before the marshmallows...oh." She came to a quick halt when she saw the crowd in the room, narrowly avoiding the creation of a chocolate waterfall.

Squabbling ceased as all heads turned to pay homage to the comforting aroma now pervading the air.

"Saved by the chocolate cravings," Angel muttered under his breath. He settled back into the sofa cushions with a barely disguised sigh.

"I didn't know anyone else was here. Besides the cops, I mean." Dawn glanced down at the three lonely mugs on the big tray. "I guess could make more cocoa," she offered weakly. "You know, if anyone is thirsty or anything."

"That's a great idea, Dawnie." Buffy glanced quickly at Angel and almost laughed at the naked relief in his eyes. "Why don't the rest of you go into the kitchen with Dawn and get something to drink? You just had a long ride and I bet Angel is lousy at remembering to stop for things like snacks."

"Among other things," Lorne grumbled, shifting restlessly.

"Upstairs, third door on the right," Angel sighed. "And all you had to do was ask; I would have stopped."

"You didn't stop for red lights or speed traps," Gunn protested as Lorne darted up the staircase. "Poor guy was probably afraid you'd toss him into the bushes and pick him up on the way back."

"Why don't we adjourn to the kitchen for now," Wesley said mildly. "We can discuss Angel's driving habits at a more propitious time. And I, for one, could use a spot of tea." He thought about the long drive from LA, rendered much shorter than usual courtesy of Angel's lead foot. "With, perhaps, a chaser."

Buffy smiled gratefully at her former Watcher. "We really do need to talk to Willow alone, if you don't mind."

"The rest of you go ahead," Cordelia suggested. "I'll put Connor down." She looked sternly at Buffy. "It's way past his bedtime."

"Cordy, thanks, but no," Angel said quickly, jumping in while Buffy was still debating between suppressing her anger and letting it fly. "We want him here with us for a while longer." He nodded at the sleepy child, cradled in Buffy's arms. "He's fine, see?"

"I guess," Cordelia said grudgingly.

She couldn't quite shake the weird feeling it gave her to see Angel's son in Buffy's arms, looking like, well, like he belonged there. A part of her knew this was right; this was what she had wanted for Angel all along, deep...really deep...down. But seeing the three of them together like that on the sofa was almost like looking at the cover of some old-time magazine...if Norman Rockwell had ever painted "One Vamp's Family."

Fred tugged gently, but insistently, at Cordelia's sleeve. "Cordy, if you don't come quick all the marshmallows will be gone. And cocoa without marshmallows is just a concatenation of alkali-processed beans, phosphates and diglycerides. With, of course, enough added soybean oil and whey to provide texture."

"You really know how to take all of the flavor out of life, don't you Fred?" Cordelia commented as she let Fred lead her into the kitchen.

Fred shrugged. "That's what the marshmallows are for."

* * * * *

"Now that we've gotten rid of the chorus," Angel said quietly, "why don't you tell me about Holtz, Willow?"

Willow looked down at her hands, at the hands that cradled the power of a temporal vortex between them until it was ready to set loose upon an unsuspecting...evil guy. Holtz was an evil guy, she reminded herself. He'd tried to take poor little Connor away, and he was willing to kill Buffy to do it. He was the evil one, not her. She was just...an addict.

"It was a vortex," she sighed, surrendering once more to her guilt. "I wish I could have thought of some other way to get rid of him...or maybe if I'd let Buffy..."

"Kill him," Buffy finished for her. "I was going to kill him, Will, and you knew that. At least you gave him a fighting chance."

Angel was torn between relief and alarm. He didn't want Willow to bear the weight of a human life on her conscience, and he certainly didn't want that for Buffy either. But a live Holtz was an accident waiting to happen, and it was waiting to happen to his son.

"You mentioned a vortex," he prodded, fighting down the urge to grab the witch and shake a coherent story out of her. "What kind of vortex? Where did it send him?"

"When."

Angel frowned. "I don't need that much detail, Willow. I know it was sometime in the last couple of hours."

Willow shook her head, further confusing the vampire. "No, that's not the kind of 'when' I mean. It was a temporal vortex, so I didn't send him to a where, but to a when."

"A when? Which whe...what...when?" he growled in frustration.

Buffy looked up from studying Connor's amazingly tiny, amazingly perfect, right hand. "His own when. The 'when' when he left his own...Willow, you know Angel's right; this 'when' thing really is kind of awkward."

"Fine, next time you pick the metaphysical garbage disposal," Willow retorted indignantly.

"Okay, okay." Angel held up his hands in surrender. "So you sent him back to the eighteenth century; I get the picture."

Buffy grinned, her good humor fully restored at the memory of Holtz' current, or rather, past, plight. "She sent him back to good old Hellmouth central, circa 'circle the wagons cause them Injuns are on the warpath'." She quickly assumed a more serious expression at the sight of the stormy look in Willow's eyes. "Sorry Will. The Native Americans were...demonstrating their disagreement with the subjugation of their lands and people by marching their horses in a circular fashion around the settlers...while holding loaded weapons. The Native Americans holding the weapons, I mean...though I guess the settlers had a few too."

"So he is, or actually was, in Sunnydale," Angel said, wrenching the conversation back on track. "Why send him back here? I can see avoiding the exact place where he came from - he'd only repeat the past. But why Sunnydale?"

Willow shrugged. "There weren't many people here...other than the Shumash, who won't want anything to do with him. I didn't want him interacting with people he wouldn't have met before. You never know what damage you can cause by playing with a timeline. You think you're fixing one little problem...but who knows how many rifts you're opening?"

Angel though guiltily of the Oracles, and the day he had forsaken to purchase Buffy's life. He'd often wondered what might have happened if he had left the events of that day unchanged. Would he have found a better way to defeat the Scourge if he hadn't depended on his own demonic strength, strength that later was required of Doyle instead? Would Buffy have despaired to the point of offering her own life for Dawn's if he had been there to support her? Would he have been as susceptible to Darla's mindgames if Buffy had been at his side? Would Connor have even been born, or would he instead have been...no, there was no point in letting the wondering game go so far. What was done was done, but he did see Willow's point.

"You probably did the right thing," he mumbled, trying to clamp the lid down on his wandering thoughts.

"There's no 'probably' about it," Buffy said indignantly. "She did do the right thing. Tell her she did the right thing, Angel."

He looked up, startled out of his reverie by the sharpness in his beloved's tone of voice. Suddenly he realized where his silence had led her.

"You did the right thing, Willow," he hastily assured the witch. "I know you're trying not to use magick, and believe me, I understand, but you did what needed to be done."

"I don't think Tara is going to agree with you," Willow said glumly. "I worked so hard to stop...and I was doing really well too..."

"You were doing great," Buffy said, patting her on the back.

"But now it's all ruined and I have to start over." She looked down at her hands again; they looked too small to have wrecked three lives with a single twist. "At this rate I'll never get my 20-year cake."

Angel sighed, reminding himself that for all her ancient knowledge, Willow was still very young in her heart.

"Willow," he said patiently, "you're not an addict. At least you're not addicted to magick."

"You haven't been here, Angel. You don't know."

"No, but I've heard a lot about the past few years in a really intense format this last week. I also know what kind of a person you were before I left Sunnydale, and I don't think you could have changed that completely in three years." He smiled sheepishly. "I did a lot of lurking in the old days, Willow; I saw more than any of you realized."

Buffy leaned across Willow and patted Angel gently on the knee. "That's my sweet stalker guy."

He shrugged, the promise of the future stretching before them removing most of the sting from his memories. "What else was I supposed to do during the daylight but watch from a distance? I couldn't very well ask you to join me in the sewers."

"I would have," she protested.

Angel nodded, his voice becoming slightly husky as he answered, "That's why I never asked."

Willow could feel the temperature in the room suddenly leap up a few degrees. She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa between the lovers. A need for Tara's warm presence overwhelmed her.

"Umm, guys, still actually here," the witch mumbled miserably, wishing she were anywhere else...as long as that 'else' included Tara.

Angel laughed self-consciously, deliberately moving his large body further away from his companions. "Willow, will you take it from someone who knows - what you crave is control. And until you start dealing with that problem, you'll be at the mercy of whatever gimmick of the week seems to give it to you."

"Angel," Buffy said warningly. "Willow doesn't need you to make fun of her problem."

"I'm not making fun," he said earnestly. "I know a little something about this, Buffy; why do you think I did the things I did to Dru?" He looked away for a moment as he added, "Or to you?"

"Don't."

"I spent most of my human years feeling powerless," he rushed on, not wanting to delve into old pain any more than Buffy. "My father had a way of doing that to me. So when I was changed, I wanted control more than anything, not over myself but over others. For a long time I felt like the demon gave it to me."

"And that spells Willow to you how?" Buffy glanced apologetically at her best friend. "Sorry, Will; the pun just sort of slipped in."

"It's normal to want to take charge of your own life, especially when you're young," Angel said gently, "and that's when it's the hardest to do. That's where addictions come from. But Willow...what you're looking for is control of the world around you, and magick was simply the fastest way you found to achieve it. You could just as easily have used your computer and hacked your way into the captain's chair." A warning note entered his voice. "You still might."

Willow quickly pushed aside long-forgotten memories, those of her own demon beau. Moloch's scheme to rule the world through the Internet, with Willow as his queen, was nothing like her attraction to magick. Just because magick had proven to be more powerful that night, and helped to save her life, didn't mean she had weighed them each as opportunities for advancement and found computers wanting. Or that now, having cut herself off from magick, she would return to her first love.

"The magick...it really does make me feel something," Willow protested. She waved her hands in the air, trying to spin the words to describe her emotions as easily as she had brought the vortex into being. "There's a power flowing through me that I can't describe; that's what I crave."

"You can describe the power, Willow; it's called control over the elements." Angel shrugged. "You have time at your disposal; you can bend Nature to your whims; you can make people do what you think they should do, and even bring them back from the dead to do it." His dark eyes were filled with a strange kind of pity as he added, "You can create your vision of the perfect world and you don't have to let anyone else's vision get in the way."

"You make me sound horrible." Willow stared at him in shock. "I'm not like that; I'm not."

"Of course you're not." Buffy glared at Angel; she had not been expecting this. He was supposed to be comforting Willow, not confronting her. "You're not helping, you know."

"I'm being honest," he countered. "It will help more in the end than tact; I've learned that the hard way from Cordelia."

"So very much the person to be taking mental health tips from," Buffy offered tartly, tossing her head in an unconscious imitation of the self- same guru.

"She keeps herself saner than most of us in the middle of this mess." Angel's smile was apologetic, but his tone remained firm. "I'm not saying her methods work for everybody, but..."

Buffy held up her hands, partially in surrender and partially to cover the sight of her grinding teeth. "Not going to argue Cordy-issues here," she vowed. "Unless she hogs all the marshmallows. My point is that you're making Willow feel worse about herself instead of better. She had to make a quick decision and she made the right one. At least I think so."

"You're safe, Connor is safe; I think so too." Angel turned his attention back to Willow. "Buffy is right, Willow. You did the best you could to help others in a tight situation; that's all anyone expects of you." He tried to soften his words with a lop-sided smile as he added, "You're not actually supposed to control the universe, you know, so no one expects you to be perfect at it."

"But Buffy could have been killed," Willow protested, her forehead creased in an anxious frown. "I mean I didn't know what would happen to her when I let go of the vortex. I tried to warn her..."

"I heard you, Will; there just wasn't time."

"But if I told you before..."

"There wasn't time then either," Buffy firmly overrode her. "You told me I had to get out of the way when you gave the signal and I blew it. My bad, not yours."

Angel looked sharply at Buffy as an old fear he'd hoped to keep buried clawed its way back to the surface. "She warned you and you just ignored her?"

"It wasn't personal." Buffy raised an eyebrow at Angel's unexpectedly harsh tone. "She didn't have time to stretch the blueprints out on the table or anything, but I got the gist. It didn't break down the way it should have, that's all. But Holtz didn't get Connor; that's what's important."

"No, we didn't lose him," Angel murmured. He understood, far better than Buffy suspected he did, how much that meant to her.

"I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to Connor, Buffy," Willow broke in. "You were the one I was worried about. We...I...pulled you forward in the time stream when I brought you back to life. I didn't know what would happen if the vortex...it could have sucked you right back into being dead...or worse." The witch glanced miserably at her best friend, who immediately placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Sometimes you don't get a lot of time to make the big decisions. You just have to do what you think is right and hope everything works out. And it did, didn't it?" Buffy squeezed Willow's shoulder as she added, "The big bad vortex didn't get me, so I maybe I'm supposed to be here after all. Go figure."

Angel stiffened abruptly at the surprise in her voice. "I think it's time Connor went to bed," he mumbled, reaching across Willow to take the baby from Buffy.

The Slayer frowned, sensing something had suddenly shifted. "Angel, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"Nothing," he answered tersely, not daring to look at her. "It's late. He's tired."

Angel stood up and headed for the stairs without another word, smoothly dodging out of reach when Buffy tried to grab him by the arm. She started to follow him, and then hovered indecisively in the archway between the living room and the hallway, watching him beat a hasty retreat to the second floor.

"What just happened here?" she asked Willow, her eyes firmly pinned to Angel's back.

"That's what I'd like to know." Cordelia huffed impatiently as she strode into the living room from the kitchen. "We finally convince Heathcliff that having just a little bit of fun won't make his face, or his curse, crack...not an easy task, if I do say so...and then a week with you sends him back to roaming the moors. I just can't trust you alone with him, can I?"

Buffy heard something that sounded almost like anger in her old rival's voice, but the Slayer's mind was too busy mining the past few minutes' conversation for clues to form a suitably caustic rebuttal.

"He looked mad," Buffy fretted. "But it's not like Angel to bail when that happens. Actually it's not really like him to get mad even...unless there's some sort of human sacrifice going on."

"Gee, wonder who he learned to take the emotional express-checkout from?" Cordelia tapped her foot on the hardwood floor. "Are you going after him or am I?"

The Seer's tone, verging as it did on proprietary, finally penetrated Buffy's consciousness and ground its way into barely healed wounds. She stared at her former classmate, her old rival, her lover's best friend.

"Put one foot on those stairs before I say the word, and you won't have a hair left on your head to bleach." The Slayer smiled sweetly as she stepped up onto the first riser. "Not that it would be too easy to color your hair in your future armless state anyway."

"Buffy! I was only trying to..." Cordelia's voice trailed off as the Slayer vanished from sight. She appealed to Lorne, who was peeling himself off of the wall behind the landing in the wake of Buffy's whirlwind flight to the second floor. "Do you believe that? I was only trying to help, Lorne. Angel sees that now; why can't she?"

"Blessed are the peacemakers," he answered, "but no one ever said they were popular." He hurried down to soothe his distressed friend. "I know it's not fair, my lovely olive branch, especially after you did such a bang-up job playing 'Mommy' when Angel's little bluebird of happiness fell off the White Cliffs of Dover. But he's all grown up now, and ready to leave the nest." He stretched his arms wide open and inhaled deeply. "Can't you feel spring in the air? It's mating season."

"Leave the nest?" Cordelia looked alarmed. "He's not just junking the car - he's tossing the passengers too?"

"Oh I wouldn't put it like that...but yes. Eventually. Nothing to worry your pretty little..." he did a quick visual reconfirmation, "blonde head over, though." Lorne draped an arm around Cordelia's shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug. "These things take time, and we've got nothing but, right?"

* * * * *

Lilah Morgan pulled a battered manila folder from the top drawer of her filing cabinet and slapped it down on her otherwise immaculate desktop. Smiling politely at the guest floating ever so slightly in front of her desk, she took her seat and opened the folder.

"Mr. Sahjhan," she began, "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you, but the firm wanted to give your proposal a thorough review before making any decisions about committing time and resources to its, shall we say, execution."

"But you have come to a decision?" the demon asked, shimmering slightly as his eagerness overwhelmed his tenuous grasp on this reality.

Lilah's smile grew broader, baring teeth many a wary co-worker insisted had been sharpened on the bones of her former supervisors after an impromptu tour of the senior partner's wine cellar last winter.

"We most certainly have. Please, let me tell you all about it."

* * * * *

Go to Part 8