Summary: Someone needs to make amends with Angel.
Spoilers: Through 'To Shansu In LA,' but more specifically for 'Eternity.'
Disclaimer: Joss made the characters. But I like to pretend that they're
mine.
Rating: PG13
Author's Note: Yeah, I know this is weird for me. But you try telling a fic
idea to shut up and then see if it listens. lol.

* * * * * * *

Angel hung up the phone, a grimace on his face. He looked up at Wesley, pain
in his eyes. "Well, she got the part."

"Wonderful," Wesley muttered, sitting heavily in the chair across from Angel.
"And when does the play open?"

"Nine weeks from now. She'll be back here in a few minutes." Angel looked
down at his hands. His voice was suddenly hopeful. "Maybe she'll be better
than last time. She could... Practice. With practice, she might... I'm
happy for her. I am."

"A lot of practice," Wesley interjected. He paused, worry shining in his
gaze. "Yes, perhaps. As we've seen so far, anything is possible."

"Right." The vampire nodded resolutely, trying to convince himself.

They each knew that they would have to sit through the play again and each
knew how hard it had been the last time. Cordelia had proven herself to be a
lot of things-- a loyal friend, a determined young woman, a trusted employee
and a resourceful person overall-- but she had yet to prove her acting skills
as anything but... Bad. And each of them had tried to be tactful about it,
but tact would only take a person so far. Besides which, the last time Angel
had tried to be tactful about Cordelia's acting, his evil counterpart had
emerged, telling her exactly what he truly thought.

Only cruelly.

Angel sighed, looking back at Wesley. "Coffee?"

"Mm," Wesley mumbled, leaning over to glance through one of the books. "You
don't suppose that there's a spell in one of these that would make her a
better actress, do you?"

"We could only dream," Angel replied, getting up to start the coffee.

"Maybe I could help," came a hesitant voice from the doorway.

Angel and Wesley looked up and their mouths hung open when they realized who
was standing there.

Rebecca Lowell stood uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot. She smiled
awkwardly. "I mean, I wasn't much help last time, was I? Maybe this time I
could... I really wouldn't mind, if she wouldn't mind taking help from me."

"Help?" Wesley suggested, standing. He offered her his hand, which she took
gratefully. "Perhaps."

"Rebecca," Angel whispered. After a moment, he straightened himself, closing
his mouth abruptly. "Miss Lowell. Is there something that we could help you
with? Some further business that you'd like to discuss?"

"N- No. Yes, I mean yes." She shifted under his hard glare. "Well, I was
wondering if I could talk to you privately?"

"I'm not sure that there's anything left to talk about," he said stiffly,
flipping the coffee switch to 'on.' But still he turned, glancing at Wesley
who nodded before he led her into his office, shutting the door behind them.
Once inside, he sat down at his desk and folded his hands together
expectantly.

She sat nervously across from him and mirrored his movements, keeping her
spine stiff and straight, as though she might leap from her chair at any
moment. Her fingers clutched at each other. "I know it's been a while," she
started. "I know... Well, I know I should have come in sooner. But I was
sort of... I didn't know what to say."

Angel leaned back, relaxing a little. He tried not to notice how blue her
eyes were. His voice was a bit more gentle. "And what do you have to say
now?"

"That I'm sorry?" Rebecca smiled sheepishly. "It sounds horrible, I know.
Something so small for something so big and wrong that I did. And I wish I
could make it up to you in some way, Angel. I really do. But I can't think
of anything, so the only thing I can do is apologize."

"Apology accepted," he said simply.

Rebecca went on. "And, well, with everything that happened, I don't expect
you to..." She trailed off, her eyes widening. "Just like that? Without
even an explanation?"

"I think I understand the concept well enough," Angel said, a sad smile
touching his lips. "And I don't think you're the only one who needs to
apologize. There are a few things that you still have yet to understand
about vampires, and one of them is this: We are not people. We're not Anne
Rice concoctions. We are evil. We have no soul, no remorse. We kill
without regret and in fact love every second of it. You were wrong in what
you did. But where would *I* be without forgiveness?"

"Evil...?" she echoed in confusion. "I saw that. I saw that in you. But I
thought..."

"You thought that I was just trying to dissuade you from wanting to be one of
us," he stated calmly. He nodded. "I just might have done something like
that, though perhaps not to the extreme that played out. The blood, though,
was all me. I take responsibility for that. I was angry when you asked what
you asked of me. And I'm sorry."

"But, when you were evil... You're not the same. I don't understand any of
it," she said plainly. Her eyes met his. "Please tell me."

"I don't know that..."

"Rebecca?!" Cordelia screeched from outside of the office. The door flew
open, and Rebecca found herself staring up at five feet and nine inches of
brunette fury. "*Why* are you here? To make him go insane again? In case
you didn't notice last time, Angel as Angelus isn't the most comforting
person in the world. Or maybe that's it," she sneered. "Maybe you go for
dangerous men."

"Cordelia." Angel spoke quietly but firmly.

"I can't believe you'd even dare to come back into this office again,"
Cordelia continued angrily. "I'll have you know that Angel is my friend and
part of the only family I seem to have and I'm not going to let you, or
anyone else, try to ruin that again. God! When I think about what you
did...."

"Cordelia!" Warning came into Angel's voice. Her eyes flashed to his, anger
still snapping in them. "I'll handle this."

"Yeah, well, you'd better," she threatened, looking back at the actress.
Rebecca stared up at her, shock painted over her features. "Because if you
don't, I'm going to. And I have to tell you, Little Miss
I-Want-To-Hurt-Angel-And-Become-A-Soulless-Demon, as much as I don't like
getting in the middle of all of the crap that he does," she jerked her head
to indicate Angel, "I'll make an exception for you and take your scrawny ass
down in less than a second. You hear me?"

Rebecca nodded mutely and Wesley gently took a still-fuming Cordelia and led
her out of the office. He glanced apologetically at Angel as he shut the
door again. Angel stared after them in disbelief for a moment and then shook
his head, regaining his senses.

"I'm sorry for that," he said, fighting back the smile that Cordelia
sometimes brought to his face, "She's been a little protective of us lately."

"Because of me?" Rebecca asked in a small voice.

"Partially, I think," Angel said honestly. "But also because of a lot of
other factors. You simply brought out... Well, the worst in me and that
tends to frighten even the bravest of men. Even the bravest part of
Cordelia. She wants to make sure it won't happen again."

"It won't," she swore softly, biting her lip. "I don't know what I was even
thinking. Well, actually, I guess I do. You said it pretty well that night,
what was on my mind." She stood. "I suppose I should go."

"Yes," Angel nodded. He led her to the door and then touched her arm lightly
as she reached for the doorknob. His voice was sudden in the silence,
surprising. "Maybe you and I could have dinner. And I could explain some
things to you."

She turned to him, her hand on the doorknob and felt the coolness of his
touch on her warm skin. She looked at him intently, quietly, not sure what
to say, and then she nodded. "You wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't mind," he replied. Her eyes were gentle and warmth splashed from
them like waves and Angel felt a part of him flicker. Something dangerous
and good inside of him, something that stirred when he was around her.

She continued looking at him for a moment and he wanted to retract the
invitation, tell her that he would mind, that they should not see each other.
He wanted to tell her at that moment all of the dangers that came with his
company, wanted to tell her of his love for another woman and the reason he
could never be with her or with anyone but the words wouldn't come.

After a moment she smiled and brushed his cheek softly with her fingertips.
"Come by when the sun sets. I'll have something ready," she murmured before
opening the door and walking through the outer office to disappear into the
sunlight.

Angel watched, stupefied and shocked at himself.

Cordelia stepped in. "What did she say?" she demanded. "What happened?"

He chose not to answer, instead ignoring her questions and the questions that
he had for himself.
* * * * * * *

"I just don't understand this," Cordelia muttered under her breath, exhaling
sharply. "He's going out with her? After all that's happened? After what
she did? What if she's still in the wanting-to-be-undead mode and he just
doesn't see it? Damn it!" She slapped her hand down hard against the table
for effect.

"Cordelia, you know as well as I that Angel is different," Wesley pointed out
gently. "I understand your worry but we have to give him the benefit of the
doubt in situations such as these. Angel is our senior by over two hundred
years, he must have learned what he was doing a long time ago. It's possible
that it's *because* he's different that he wants to see her again. He knows
what it's like to see unforgiveness in people, perhaps he simply doesn't want
to see someone else go through something like that. And though it was
essentially her fault, you can't blame the woman for needing some sort of an
explanation for all that happened."

"I gave her enough of an explanation," Cordelia growled. "I told her to get
the hell out. She was stupid to come back."

"Everyone needs their resolutions, even if they don't deserve them," Wesley
sighed, crossing the room and touching her shoulder. "Everyone has to learn
from their actions." He paused. "Speaking of, Rebecca overheard Angel and I
talking about your play-- which, by the way, congratulations. Cleopatra.
Quite a role. Anyhow, she overheard us, and offered her services if you'd
like some... Tutoring... In the acting department."

"Oh, great," she complained. "Now I'm a horrible actress too, on top of the
possibility that I'll be slaughtered by my boss and friend by tomorrow
morning. Terrific." Cordelia paused, looking at Wesley. "Did you say that
she'd help me?"

"I did," he confirmed with a small smile.

"Really?" she asked breathlessly. "You really think she would?"

"I really think she would."

Slowly, as if forced, the excitement faded from Cordelia's face and she gave
a simple, firm nod. "Well, I guess if it would make her feel better. I
mean, Angel might have a little bit of a point," Cordelia admitted
grudgingly. "It's not like I've never done anything that I've regretted."

"Yes, that's right," Wesley said cheerfully, glad that Cordelia wouldn't be
arguing this anymore. "I'm sure that she'll take some time to go over your
lines with you, give you some tips and that sort of thing. ...What sort of
things?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, her eyes already glazed with the happiness of being
tutored by a celebrity.

"What sort of things?" he repeated.

She shook her head, glaring at him. "*What* are you talking about?"

"That you regret," he clarified.

"Oh." Cordelia fell silent a moment and then laughed, winking at him.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
* * * * * * *

Angel reached up to knock but paused at the last moment, letting his hand
fall away. He didn't even know what he was doing there. He had things to do,
people to fight for, souls to save. He had to think about things that hurt
worse than being lonely; like the feeling he got when he realized what could
come from real intimacy.

Rebecca scared him.

She scared him in the way that Buffy had, although not quite as strongly
because he now recognized the feeling. He was fascinated by her. She could
make him feel things. And though Buffy would always remain the love of his
life, when he looked into Rebecca's eyes, he saw something flicker there.
Some old reflection of himself. He saw someone who was searching for
answers, someone who could never find any. He wanted to protect her.

And this couldn't happen. He knew that as surely as he knew the moment that
the sun rose in the morning. He couldn't allow himself to be around a woman
who could make him feel alive, a woman who saw so deeply into him. A woman
who... Tempted him.

It was why he had left Sunnydale in the first place.

Sighing, Angel turned away and began down the steps in front of her large
Malibu home. When he reached the bottom one, however, he heard the door open
behind him and he stopped.

"Angel?"

He turned around guilty. Smiled. "Hi."

"Hey." She stepped forward a bit, confusion knitting her brow. "Where were
you going?"

"Oh... Nowhere," he answered vaguely, spreading his hands wide. "I thought I
had left my jacket in the car but... No. Wearing it." Silently, he cursed
at himself. He always became such a bad liar when put on the spot.

Rebecca nodded, sad and a little amused at the same time. "All right. Want
to come in?"

"Sure." Quickly, he climbed the steps again, entering the house obediently
behind her. Against his will, his eyes roamed down her lithe form; she wore
a green silk dress that seemed painted onto her, silk stockings on her
slender legs and black high heels with the little strappy things across the
ankles that he never could name but had always loved to see. His eyes moved
back up to her hips, watching them rock slowly back and forth as she walked.

It was almost soothing.

Almost.

He shook his head quickly, forcing the thoughts out.

Rebecca led him to the table, gesturing for him to sit down. "I'll be right
back," she murmured, touching his shoulder.

Angel nodded silently and surveyed his surroundings. For some reason that he
couldn't explain, he felt threatened in her presence. Which was odd, because
he also had the instinct to trust her. And besides, she wouldn't be able to
do anything to him. At least, nothing that she hadn't done before.

Maybe that's why he was nervous.

A moment later Rebecca emerged from the kitchen with two wine glasses. She
set one down in front of him and Angel could smell the blood inside of it,
thick and rich, warmed in a sauce pan. He raised his eyebrows at her and she
lifted her own glass with a slight smile. "Just wine in here."

"Thank you." He lifted his glass as though to toast her and then brought it
to his lips. For a second, he hesitated but then saw the hurt shining in her
eyes.

"It's not... It's not drugged or anything," she assured him.

"I know." He gave her a small smile. "I would be able to smell it in the
blood. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Her silky black hair shadowed her eyes as she shook her head.
"I deserve that, at least. I don't really expect your trust, nor have I
earned it."

Angel took a large swallow and then set his wine glass down. "Trust is a
funny thing. People can break it and it can be rebuilt in time. But not if
someone doesn't let it be rebuilt. I have to trust you a little if I want to
let you earn more."

Her eyes sparkled. "Well said."

"I was always an accomplished speaker." Angel let himself throw her a small
grin. He folded his hands together and looked at her from across the small
table as she began picking at her food. "So what would you like to know?"

"What can you tell me?"

Angel nodded. "More than you'd like to know."

"Tell me all of it then," she murmured.

"If you're sure...." he said hesitantly, giving her the option to back out of
this discussion.

Rebecca lifted her eyes and met his; it was a simple gaze that bared
everything to him, her fear and sadness, the guilt that lay quietly inside of
her for what she had done. Her curiosity and need to know.

Angel broke the shared glance first. "I'll try to make this as simple as
possible but it's really not that simple anyway," he warned. After a moment,
he continued, "I'm almost two hundred and fifty years old. I was born in
Galloway, Ireland. When I was twenty-seven, I was turned. But like I said
before, vampires aren't what Anne Rice writes about. When a human becomes a
vampire, the demon gets your body but you lose your soul. So you don't have
a conscience; you do whatever you want without remorse. And I did. I killed
thousands and thousands of people for over a hundred years. I..." He looked
up.

"Go on," she said gently, her face glowing with compassion.

"I was one of the most evil of them all. I loved what I did, all of the
death and mayhem that I created, and I was good at it," he confessed softly.
"But then I made a mistake. I fed off a gypsy girl. She was beloved among
her clan. And so, as punishment, they cursed me."

Rebecca leaned forward, almost imperceptibly. "What happened?"

"They cursed me with a soul," Angel explained, straightening up. This part
wasn't so hard to get out; he had come to terms with his curse a long time
ago. "They made me feel regret for everything that I had done. In short,
they made me grow the heart I had lost when I changed."

Angel took another swallow of the blood, hurriedly, as though it might help
him through the rest of it. "I was... Well, useless for about eighty years
after that. And then someone came to me, persuaded me to help. Convinced me
that I could make amends. So I did," he finished.

"But... How did you lose your soul?" Rebecca asked. "That's what happened
that night, right? Cordelia said something about happiness."

Angel sighed. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to explain this part.
Taking another swallow and another unneeded breath, he nodded. "When I began
helping, I was helping a girl. Buffy. For every generation, one chosen girl
is born. One girl with the strength and skill to stop the vampires," he
recited from memory. "The Vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. We got to know
each other and eventually... Eventually we fell in love."

If his heart was still beating, Angel knew he would feel it breaking inside
of his chest at that moment. He had never really had to explain his
relationship with Buffy to anyone, and he hadn't realized how much it could
hurt.

"A Vampire Slayer in love with a vampire?" Rebecca wondered out loud.
"That's... Beautiful."

"Love is always a beautiful thing," Angel acknowledged. "But yes, ours was
especially so because it was so forbidden." Another swallow of blood. "We
grew closer; she was my family and I was part of hers. I loved her and she
loved me, deeply without any reservations or fears. Not like the love that
you see on television. It was pure. Perfect. And then on the night of her
seventeenth birthday, we... Consummated our relationship. And I lost my
soul."

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Angel..."

He shook his head, rushing on, the words tumbling out. "The gypsies had
created a clause in the curse. If ever I felt one moment of true happiness,
one moment where the soul that they restored wasn't torturing me with grief
and guilt, I would lose my soul. And Buffy gave me that moment. I was
content in her arms. So I went a little insane, killed a lot of people. And
then I tried to suck the world into Hell. Buffy came to stop me. The only
way to do that was to send me to Hell. But unknown to me or her, Buffy's
friend was doing the curse again. And the moment before she killed me, her
friend finished the spell and I got my soul back. But Buffy had to send me
to Hell anyway by that time."

Rebecca reached across the table and covered her hand with his. He noticed
through the tears that he was hiding that she smelled like apples.

"I spent a couple of months in Hell, got out, tried to patch things up with
Buffy. But by then we both knew it couldn't work. She's only nineteen now,
she deserves a life that I can't give her," he summed up quickly. "So I
left, came to LA. To do what I'm doing now."

Rebecca rubbed his hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry that I ever..." Her
chin trembled.

Angel smiled sadly and gripped her hand, turning it over so that her palm
faced up. He slid his finger down the skin of her palm, causing her to
shiver. "There are so many things that you could do, Rebecca. I see
enormous passion in you."

"That's why you didn't turn me into a vampire," she said slowly. "Because I
wouldn't have been me anymore. I would have been evil."

"Yes. And no," he confessed. "I didn't turn you because... Because..."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. She stared at him in disbelief. "Because
you wanted to."

Angel looked away. "I wanted to," he confirmed, his voice rough. "I heard
your words and they made sense to me. I didn't have to be alone forever.
And I saw something in you that I recognized in myself. I wanted to make
that sadness go away. I wanted to... Take you with me," he grated out,
shutting his eyes tightly.

"Angel, I don't know what to say," she murmured. His hand was icy in hers.
"I didn't want to become a vampire just for the reasons you said, though all
of what you said was true also. I wanted to stay with you. You were the
first person... Ever... Who didn't care about me because of what I could do
for them. Who didn't want to be a part of my life to be in the spotlight for
a moment. Even when I was growing up, before my break with 'On Your Own,' I
was rushed from audition to audition with my mother, who was determined that
I be what she never could. I never had a friend. I never really had a
family. I wanted you to be that."

Angel suddenly let go of her hand and shoved his chair away from the table.
He threw down his napkin and started away. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"Angel!" Rebecca rushed after him but by the time she reached the door, he
had disappeared into the night.

Angel watched her from the shadows he had melted into. Saw the confusion and
sorrow on her face, saw the wish that could never be spoken. Slowly, with a
heavy heart, he turned and walked away.

* * * * * *

"Okay." Rebecca sighed, rubbing her eyes for a moment before she continued.
"How, my love!"

"Perchance! Nay, and most like:You must not stay here longer, your dismission
is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony," Cordelia said loudly.
"Where is Fulvia's process? Caesar's, I would say? Both? Call in the
messengers..."

Rebecca shook her head. "No. All right, listen. Saying it loud doesn't
make it better acting. ....What I mean is, you have to have some volume,
especially if you're on stage but more because your words are sure and firm
than because you're trying to get the people in the back to hear you. And
you're halting when you speak. You need to get this down."

Cordelia threw down the script. "Who *talks* like this?!" she demanded.
"Nobody, that's who. Okay, look, I know that Shakespeare is really famous
and all, but he doesn't seem to know what he's talking about!"

Rebecca smiled. "You'll get used to it. The more you practice, the easier
you'll understand the text. It's like living in France for a year or
something. At first, the language is gibberish. But by the time you leave,
you'll be fluent in it. Follow?"

"Yeah." Cordelia exhaled loudly. "Want me to go again?"

"Maybe we'd better take a break," the older woman nodded, opening a bottle of
water and taking a long swallow. When she finished, she looked at Cordelia
thoughtfully, and Cordelia squirmed under her gaze.

"What!?"

Rebecca blinked. "Oh... Nothing. Sorry."

"You can't just look at someone that way and then not explain why you were
looking at them that way," Cordelia insisted.

Rebecca nodded slowly. "I was just wondering... Did Angel say anything to
you about the other night? Because, well, he left my place upset and I
didn't know really what I had done wrong."

"Oh, you didn't do anything wrong," Cordelia shrugged. "Angel likes you is
the problem."

Rebecca paused. "How is that?"

"Angel likes you," Cordelia repeated. "And, you know, he gets nervous around
you because he's not really supposed to *like* anyone, if you get my drift."

"I'm not sure that I do."

Cordelia sighed, annoyed. "Wesley explains it better. But I'm not big on
long explanations, so this is the summary: Angel had the one-true-love
thing. It ended up with death, mayhem. You know, world in peril kind of
stuff. So then he comes here, to do the penance thing and he meets you. He
starts to feel all of these things that he doesn't think he should be feeling
because A, he's has the one-true-love thing goin' on, and B, he could lose
his soul. But he still pursues a friendship with you, even though it's
dangerous. Then, when it starts to get close, you ruin things. Which,
personally, I think he was a little relieved about. But now there's
closeness starting again, and he's freaking out because he doesn't know how
to deal with it. Stay faithful to a girl you're broken up with, or let
yourself fall for someone new when you know that there's absolutely no future
in it? Get me?"

Understanding swept through Rebecca's mind and she groaned out loud,
irritated with herself. "So I've managed to ruin things yet again, because I
wanted to be close to him," she muttered.

"Pretty much," Cordelia said bluntly, raising her eyebrows. "But I wouldn't
worry. Angel needs people even if he thinks he doesn't. He's in that weird
place between life and death, where even though he's not alive physically, he
needs people around him who are. Because his heart is, you know?"

"Yes." Rebecca smiled gently. "I think I do."

"Good. Back to work?"

"Back to work," Rebecca consented with a laugh. She hesitated a moment,
thinking. "Just... Say it as though you understood it, even if you don't.
That's what acting is all about. Subterfuge. Smoke and mirrors. All of it
is illusion of what people want to see. It's just a story told out loud.
Don't understand them if you can't but let yourself feel them if it's
possible. Your line."

Cordelia nodded. She thought for a moment, going over Rebecca's instructions
in her mind. When she spoke, her voice was softer but more commanding, her
eyes intently studying the words in front of her. "As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony: And that blood of thine is Caesar's homager: Else so
thy cheek pays shame when shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds...."

Rebecca smiled broadly. "Good!"
* * * * * * *

"Cordelia says that you're a wonderful teacher," Angel murmured without
opening his eyes.

Rebecca halted uncertainly on the bottom step. "She's actually a very good
student, once she decides she wants to take your advice. She's gotten a lot
better." She fell silent for a moment and then continued hesitantly. "I...
Didn't realize you were asleep. I can leave. I'm... Sorry I disturbed you."

Finally Angel's dark eyes fluttered open and he met her gaze steadily. "I
wasn't asleep. I was just resting." He sat up. "What brings you here?"

"Well.... I don't know, really," she confessed quietly. "I sort of had some
things that I wanted to tell you, but I'm not sure if... Well if I have the
right to say anything at all."

His mouth curved up in amusement. "Too broody, right? Cordelia tells me
that all the time."

Rebecca laughed, relaxing slightly, and shook her head. "It's actually about
something I talked to Cordelia about the other day. About acting." She sat
down on the edge of his bed, looking away from him and taking a deep breath.
"I told her... I told her to say the words even if she didn't understand
them. To just go with how the words felt. That it didn't matter if she
didn't understand them because if she felt them, the audience would too. I
told her that it was all an illusion to play with, all just make-believe.
And I think... I think that's the way I've been around you. I didn't want it
to be real, but it is. And I want to stop pretending. You're..."

"Don't say it," he whispered painfully. "I don't know if I'm should be
allowed to hear it anymore."

"An easy man to fall in love with," she finished softly.

His eyes snapped to hers and she felt his gaze wash over her sadly. "I'm in
love with someone already..."

"I know," Rebecca interrupted. "I don't want you to think that I'm trying to
force feelings out of you when there's no hope of that. Because I'm not.
I'm just... Tired. I'm tired, Angel, of being an actress all of the time.
I'm tired of not saying what I feel. And I wanted you to know."

He continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "But you... Terrify me
because I think I could fall in love with you."

"What?"

"It's not the same," he admitted. "I don't think it could ever be the same
as what I feel for... But you're one of the only people that I've let myself
feel a certain way about. I find myself admiring the way you walk, the way
you move, the way you speak. It... Warms something inside of me. You give
me a feeling that I'm not allowed to have. I want to..." His smile hurt. "I
want to protect you. I want to spend time with you. But that's dangerous.
There's nothing that either of us could do to be together and even if there
were, there's..."

"The woman you're in love with," she finished for him, seeing that he didn't
want to hurt her with his words. He nodded slightly. "And if you could be
with anyone, you would pick her to be with."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said firmly, taking his hand. "I haven't had many people who
I could be honest with, Angel. My whole life has been an act. ...I don't
care if I get my heart broken because I can't have all of you," she murmured,
"Because maybe, if it breaks, at least I'll know that it's really there."

Angel's smile was gentle, and he touched her cheek lingeringly. His
fingertips left cool, ghostlike traces against her skin and she shuddered
with pleasure. "I don't want to break your heart."

Her mouth quirked up with amusement. "Stop, please."

"What?"

"Brooding," she chuckled. "And then start."

"What?"

"Kissing me?" she asked uncertainly, meeting his eyes.

Angel nodded, his mouth curving into a small smile. He leaned forward and
kissed her tentatively, startled by the electricity that passed between them.
Slowly he deepened the kiss, tasting the warm recesses of her mouth.
Rebecca's arms snaked up and wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him closer
to her, uttering a low moan at the pleasure of his kiss. Angel groaned as
she licked his mouth like a trained serpent. Her fingers slipped through his
hair and Angel lifted her up, twisting her neatly so that she was sitting on
his lap, pressed intimately against him.

After a moment they broke away. Angel studied her with affection as Rebecca
tried to catch her breath. "How did you learn to kiss like that?" she
blurted.

"Rebecca," he said dryly, liking the feel of saying her name, "I'm over two
hundred years old. It makes sense that I would have a *little* experience."

She laughed laughed and he joined in for a moment before falling silent,
seriousness filling his eyes. She looked nervous when his laughter stopped.
"What? Is everything...?"

Angel sighed. "Just because we've established that we have... Feelings for
each other doesn't make this workable," he murmured.

"It doesn't have to be workable," she nodded, pawing lightly at his face.
"Maybe it can just be."

"For how long?"

"For however long either of needs it. For however long we feel better when
we're around each other," she said simply, kissing him once more. "For
however long we need each other. I won't ask much of you, Angel, except that
you let me be myself. Except that you let me love you in the way that I know
how."

"I wouldn't want you to love me in any other way," he said quietly. "But,
how....?"

"We'll pretend." Her eyes were kind, sad. "All smoke and mirrors. We don't
have to talk about the future, about when one of us is going to leave the
other. We don't have to talk about the restrictions. We can just... Make
believe. As much as we can. And when the time comes to let go, we will."

"All right," he consented quietly. "I'll make-believe with you. Because..."

"Because why?"

He met her eyes. Smiled.

"Because you're easy to believe."

The End


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