Tempus de Muto

by Schehrezade

Disclaimer: They ain't mine but I gets to play with them!!
Feedback: As a first time writer, I would love input. It's a drug that I could become addicted to! Drop me a note at
schehrezade_1@hotmail.com
Rating: PG15 for now will vary from chapter to chapter. Will always put in a warning.
Dedications: To Tales, cos I wouldn't be writing without her prodding. You're my muse girl!! Madame Draco my Beta. Thank you for all the hard work and patience. A true gem!

Chapter 8 

The hammering on the door woke everyone in the apartment.

Buffy groaned and pushed herself up.

Spike's eyes snapped open, immediately alert.

Wes bolted out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and sweats as he staggered out of his bedroom.

Spike and Buffy froze, both of them realising at the same time that Spike's soft cock was still cradled inside her.

"Spike, get up."

"I am." As he spoke, he hardened. Buffy rolled her eyes and grinned at him.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, we have to check this out. When someone hammers on the door at..." She squinted at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "...one in the morning, it usually is not of the good." Neither of them moved, both reluctant to lose the intimacy of the moment.

Buffy sighed and sat up, forcing Spike deeper into her. They both moaned.

"Love, please," Spike begged.

"No, I can hear something." Buffy slid off him and pulled on his black t-shirt. Spike glared down at his crotch, mentally willing himself to calm down. "Spike, catch!" She threw his jeans over to him and stood waiting, impatiently drumming her fingers on the door as she watched him gingerly tuck himself away. He paused for a second as he realised that Buffy was in his shirt, it just skimmed her thighs and when Buffy moved, she flashed him.

'Very tantalising...' He leered at his love.

"Go on, have a look see." He gestured to the closed door as he padded up behind her.

A voice broke the silence that had followed the pounding.

"Need your help."

Buffy and Spike looked at each other and edged out of the room. Spike handed her the switchblade that he kept in his jeans pocket. He pressed her gently on the shoulder and they sank down behind a bookcase. They couldn't see who had come around asking for Wes, but, by the tone of the man's voice, he was angry and didn't want to be around Wesley.

Which begged the question: why come here demanding help? Spike settled his back against the shelves and pulled Buffy between his splayed legs, resting his chin on her shoulder. He watched her fiddle with the slim knife, spinning it on the flat of her palm.

"Look, I don't have time to get into it with you. I don't even wanna be here," the mystery visitor stated in an aggressive voice. "The hotel's infested with something. Some kinda... slug, jellyfish thing. We don't know what they are or how to kill them."

"And?" Spike whispered into Buffy's ear. She wriggled as his breath tickled her ear.

"Well, now, that is a problem," Wes said in a cool manner, his voice raspy with sleep and pain.

"These things... there's hundreds of 'em. They get inside you and... And soak up all the moisture in your body. They drink you alive." Buffy made gagging motions at his description while Spike chuckled quietly. As Wes walked past the bookcase, he noticed the two of them. Spotting the knife in Buffy's hand, he relaxed slightly. He felt better knowing he wasn't alone.

"Why come to me? I expect Angel will find a way to kill them eventually," he replied cynically, trying not to smile at the thought of two of the most fearsome warriors in existence hiding behind a bookcase like a couple of children eavesdropping.

"That's not what I'm looking for. I need to know how to get these slugs out of someone once they're infected. Force it out somehow..." Gunn still refused to meet Wesley's eyes. He hated himself for being here, but Fred was in trouble and she needed brains, not brawn. The thought of that made his fists tighten.

"I wish I could help you," Wes emphasised each word; there was an edge of anger to his voice. He resented that only when there was something they needed an answer for, did they remember him. "Sorry you wasted your time," he snapped, furious that Angel didn't have the guts to face him now that he was on his feet.

"It's Fred," Gunn interrupted. Buffy and Spike tensed, wondering what the hell was going on. Before they could reveal themselves, Wes crossed over to where they were and pulled out a bottle of Vodka from the cabinet facing them.

"What, we're gonna have a drink now? Did you hear what I said? She's dying!"

"I was dying. I knew it lying in that dirty field, life pouring out of my throat. Do you know why I fought to stay alive? I needed to live to see my friends again. To explain to the people I trusted... and loved... my side of what happened." Wesley winced at the pain in his throat, caused by shouting at the silent man in front of him.

"We know what..." Gunn replied, but was cut off by Wesley.

"You don't know anything," Wes yelled. Spike wrapped his fingers around Buffy's arm to stop her from jumping up and pounding Wes's visitor to a paste. He shook his head and mouthed, "Wait a sec."

"I'll help because it's Fred. But just so we understand each other... don't ever come here again. None of you are welcome here." With that, Wes pushed Gunn out of the apartment and slammed the door in his face.

He rested his head against the doorjamb for a second before turning to face the still empty room. "You can come out now."

Buffy and Spike stood, trying to not to look sheepish and failing miserably.

"Sorry, Wes, we didn't know if you needed backup." Buffy returned Spike's knife to his front pocket, making him squirm as her fingers lingered a split second longer than needed.

"Looks like I had it, though." He nodded to the knife now tucked away. "Thank you."

Wesley sank down onto the sofa and stared blankly at the coffee table. He wanted to go and see if he could help, but at the same time he was angry and confused. He knew he wouldn't be welcome. Buffy sat down and tucked Spike's T-shirt over her knees.

"Was that one of your friends?" she asked.

"What? Oh, yes, that was Charles Gunn. He joined AI a couple of years ago. We were close, but now..."

"So, mate, you want to head over to the hotel and have a look?" Spike tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans.

"I don't know. I want to help, even though I am angry with them. I know I won't be welcome..." Wes trailed off.

"Not a problem. You know Peaches isn't gonna want to see me, so how about the two pariahs go over, have a snoop, and if it gets sticky we'll hide behind the Slayer here. No way the git won't be happy to see her."

"Not too happy, I hope," Wes joked. "I think it may be advisable to check the situation. Someone could be hurt if these things escape into LA."

"Clothes, weapons and keys?" Buffy suggested. "If there's slaying to be done, I can't see that my flashing them would work!" She headed off to change.

"Pet, you know if you'd flashed me back when we first met, I would definitely have been slain by your charms," Spike whispered as he pulled the half-dressed girl into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Perv!" She giggled and pulled out of his arms to continue dressing. "Get your clothes on!" She threw the t-shirt she had been wearing onto the bed as she disappeared into the bathroom to fix her hair. Spike snagged the discarded shirt off the bed, brought it to his face and inhaled. The lure of their combined scents was overwhelming. Unable to resist, he pulled on the shirt and tucked it into his jeans revelling in the combination of her warmth and scent. He stretched sinuously before plopping onto the bed and pulling on his Docs.

"Come, gorgeous. Stop primping, there's gits to save. Wonder if we should take some slug pellets?"

"What was that, Spike?" Buffy came out, tucking her hair onto the top of her head and securing it with a couple of chopsticks. A smudge of lipstick completed her outfit.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

"Thanks, handsome. Come on, Wes'll be waiting."

*********

"Wes, Spike wanted to get slug pellets," Buffy chirped as they drove towards Angel's abode. She succeeded in making the taciturn man smile.

"I think possibly a large mallet may be in order," he retorted. He watched the Large Art Deco hotel appear ahead of them as Spike turned into the street.

"Or a few buckets of beer," Spike offered.

"Spike, no drinking on the job!" She poked him in his ribs.

"No, luv, slugs like beer, and then when they get it, they're dead," he explained. "So, how do you want to handle this?" Spike asked around his ever-present cigarette. The question was directed at both of the humans in the car. He was worried about Buffy mainly, but, to his surprise, he was also concerned about the Watcher that sat in the back.

"I don't know. How about playing it by ear?" Wesley suggested.

"Spike, what do you want to do? 'Cause you know as soon as Angel sees us together he'll try and fight you!" Buffy rested her hand gently on his knee.

"I think Watcher boy is right. Play it by ear." He took her hand and kissed it. "And thank you."

"What for?" she asked, puzzled.

"Try and fight me." Spike laughed. "Too bloody right, he couldn't take me! I've had a lot of training with one of the best, you know!"

"Who? Mr. Giles?" Wesley asked.

"No, fighting with this one. She keeps me sharp and I am on the top of my game at the mo. Peaches won't have a chance," Spike commented casually.

"Ahh." Wesley, despite his antipathy towards his former employee, really didn't want to see him dusted. Something told him that Spike was right. Angel wouldn't have a chance one on one with his grand-childe. Angel's fighting techniques had gotten lazy. Also, surprisingly, considering his diet, Angel had gotten a lot bigger and the extra weight was definitely not muscle!

"Spike, I know if I asked, you wouldn't fight Angel, but I do understand that you may have to. He'll see you as a threat to his claim." Even as she spoke, Buffy felt an old twinge of anger. She had never forgiven Angel for claiming her and not explaining it. She had spent hours reading through Giles' texts and stinky old books until she found what she needed to know.

"You know about that?" Spike asked cautiously. He was surprised that the Slayer had worked out what his Grandsire had done. It rankled with him that the Poof had walked away from her after that. He knew if he had claimed her, his dust would have followed her until the day she died.

'Probably still trying to get up her skirts as well!'

"What?" Wesley exclaimed. Staggered, he gazed at Buffy's neck. Angel had never mentioned the claim, which was, in itself, odd, but her laissez-faire attitude towards it was causing him to gape at her.

"Oh, come on, like I didn't know," she responded to the two gaping men who were staring at her. She had eventually come to terms with Angel's selfishness at abandoning his mate but it had taken a while. The main reason for her relaxed attitude was sitting next to her with a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his open mouth. She reached over to pluck it off his bottom lip and threw it out of the window. "Not a cool look, sweetie!"

Spike blinked. "You know about the claim?"

"Yeah, I worked it out. Took me a while, but of course I know!"

"What do you want to do about it?" Spike asked cautiously. He desperately wanted her to be his, completely his, but until she asked, he would not act.

"I want to break it," she replied calmly. "Have for a long time, but I never had the guts to talk to Angel about it, but now, with you next to me, I think I can."

"You know what to say to break the claim?" he asked. Wes stayed silent, aware that this was something he would do best to stay well out of.

"Yeah, I have the words and ritual memorised," she replied calmly, surprising both the men again in the space of minutes.

"When you're ready, I'll be there, pet," Spike said as they pulled up outside the looming hotel.

"Tonight, once we get the slugs killed, I'll get Angel to do it. Just try not to kill him before we revoke the claim, okay, honey?"

"I don't think it'll be that easy, pet."

"Oh, don't worry. Everything will be okay." She reached over and stroked her lover's face. "So, do we go in?" She turned to face Wes, who was staring at her in awe.

*********

"Guys, put my girl down," Gunn said as he appeared, carrying the bottle of vodka Wes had given him earlier. He squatted before them and forced Fred to drink as much of the bottle as possible. She tried to resist, but the combined strength of Groo and Lorne holding her arms kept her still, while Gunn forced more of the alcohol down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, then retched as she threw up the slug.

Before it could slither away, Groo skewered the thing with Lorne's sword.

"Cool sword action."

The four turned to face the woman who had entered behind them. Buffy stood with her arms folded, Spike and Wes flanking her. She smiled brightly.

"Wow, big improvement on the crumbly mansion Angel had in Sunnydale," she commented as she took in the Deco interior. Her smile faltered when she spotted the large red pentacle, still visible despite all the cleaning. "...Though I don't think much of the floor decorations!"

"What are you doing here?" Gunn hissed, furious that Wesley had come.

"Just came to check that my cure worked." In that one cold sentence he destroyed any credibility Gunn had gained by curing Fred.

"Your help was most welcome." Groo nodded in thanks. He smiled widely at the scarred man noting his discomfort and trying to ease it. He was more interested in the two warriors that stood with him. He could sense the male was a demon but the female had an undercurrent of strength he had never witnessed before.

"We don't need your help no more!" Gunn shouted. "So take your Barbie doll and the punk and get lost!"

"Okay, cookies, enough with the anger! It's making my horns ache so imagine how Fred's head must feel," Lorne interjected, trying to ease the tension. The two leather-clad blondes that were very obviously here to support Wesley intrigued him.

Before anyone else could say anything, the lobby was filled with a bright light. The pinned slug demon screamed and burnt up. Everyone but Buffy, Spike and Groo shielded their eyes. The three true warriors stood alert, ready to fight.

"Okay, unless anyone else has something, let me be the first to ask, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Lorne exclaimed.

Angel appeared, followed by an excited Cordelia. Both froze when they saw the three visitors.

"Buffy?" Angel stopped in his tracks, ignoring Cordelia as she ploughed into his back.

"Hey, wasn't me this time," Buffy chirped, not taking her eyes off the dark-haired vamp who was gazing adoringly at her.

"It wasn't Buffy. I did the glow thing, and I saved the day," Cordy interjected angrily. She couldn't believe that the faux-blonde Slayer had stolen her thunder again. She had, in her jealousy, conveniently forgotten the ratty, blonde mess on her own head which she had tried covering up with a cute scarf. She crossed her arms and glared at her former schoolmate. Her apparent saintliness and champion status had vanished with one glimpse of her high school adversary. She looked over at Angel and scowled at his entranced face.

Cordelia then spotted Spike. The seer bit her lip, wondering if maybe she should have mentioned Spike and his involvement with the Scoobies to Angel. When Willow had come to tell them about Buffy's sacrifice, the two of them had sat and talked for hours. Wesley and Gunn had been too preoccupied in calming Angel down for her to ask their opinion. Willow and she had finally decided that, under the circumstances, the Spike situation was one more revelation that Angel probably would not have been able to process.

Willow had, over the months since Buffy's death and subsequent return, emailed Cordy, keeping her up to date with everything that was happening in Sunnydale. Cordelia had meant to tell Angel, but with the appearance of Darla, Connor and the subsequent events, she had not had time to sit Angel down and fill him in. On reflection, it may have been something she should have done because there was no way this was gonna come out well. She looked over to see where Willow was, and frowned worriedly. 'Something's happened to Willow, oh God, no!' Cordelia began to worry. There had been no sign of email from Willow over the last few weeks.

Unknown to Cordelia, two people had been watching her closely. One of them felt really stupid that during the years he had worked closely with her, she had managed to fool him. Wesley frowned, stunned at his stupidity and also impressed with Cordelia's duplicity. 'She really is a better actress than I believed!'

The other stood watching her.

He saw...

Her petty jealousy.

He saw...

Her anger.

He realised that his princess was just an idealised woman. She was perfect, if only in his eyes, until this moment.

Then he realised.

She was not a saint, or a warrior. Not after seeing the tiny, radiant, blonde woman standing in the stairwell. There was no comparison. This one called Buffy was a true fighter, a Champion.

Cordelia was a pale substitute.

He realised that she had no real feelings for him. He was just a substitute for the oblivious vampire standing next to him.

Groo's heart broke.

He stepped backwards, jostling Wes as he exited the hotel. He gazed unseeingly at the fountain in the courtyard, the beauty of the Deco woman in the centre lost to him.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

Groo turned to face Wesley. "What would you be referring to?"

"Realising the woman you love doesn't return your feelings," Wes answered matter-of-factly.

He sat on the edge of the fountain and stared into the pool of water. "At least I was lucky. I never tasted her lips."

"Winifred? You care for her? Now I understand why Gunn is so aggressive towards you. It is a matter of the heart and not solidarity with Angel." Groo sat next to the silent man. He watched the doors, wondering if Cordelia would realise he was missing and come looking for him.

"She won't come looking for you." Wesley's rough voice echoed around the small garden.

Groo sighed. "I know. But it is good to hope. Though I know she is not mine, I did love her. I did from the first time I saw her in the Throne room. She is more concerned with Angel." He gestured to his hair and clothes, "I am a poor approximation of him..." He trailed off with another sigh.

They sat in silence.

"I'm leaving Los Angeles," Wes commented with a deliberate casualness.

"With the two Champions?"

Wesley frowned. Though he didn't know Spike that well yet, he instinctively knew that Spike would laugh at the suggestion that he was a champion. "Buffy and Spike, yes. They came to see me in the hospital and asked me to go with them to Sunnydale and help defend the Hellmouth." Wesley chose his words carefully. He wanted to plant the seeds of an idea in the tall man next to him. He instinctively knew that Groo's relationship was over. He also felt that, from his previous comments, the Pylean Champion had realised it as well.

"This Hellmouth, it offers challenges?"

"That it does. There are all shapes and forms of Demons to fight. There is the regular yearly Apocalypse, as well. Yes, I would say that it offers a challenge to the right man." Wesley reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook, writing for a moment.

"Interesting."

"Yes, it is an interesting place, Groo." Wesley stood and dusted off his sweats and walked away, leaving a piece of paper next to the Pylean.

"It may be a place you could call home," Wes commented coolly as he re-entered the Hyperion only to back out again when he realised what was happening within, leaning against the portico so that he could be ready to help if the situation required it.

"Indeed." Groo took the paper with Buffy's address and phone number and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

*********

Fred, Gunn and Lorne edged over to the sofa by the office and sat down to watch the impending confrontation. Angel's gaze flickered over to his Childe, standing so near to his mate. He growled, ignoring Cordelia's clutching hands as he stalked across the lobby.

"Angel, wait, we need to talk about what happened to me in the kitchen," she whined, incensed that he had dismissed her so quickly. 'As soon little Miss Slays-a-lot turns up, all my hard work goes out the window,' she thought bitterly. She stomped over to the others. "Did you see? I killed them all! Cool, huh?" The trio on the sofa nodded but never took their eyes off the three figures in front of them.

"Spike, why are you here?" Angel demanded, his hands fisted by his sides.

"Granddad! Miss me?" Spike threw his arms wide and bounced on the balls of his feet.

Angel glared at him; an even louder growl erupting out of him.

"Wow, Angel, when did you get a guard dog?" Buffy joked, trying to ease the tension.

Angel ignored her. He turned to the still smirking, peroxide pest. "I said what are you doing here?"

Buffy stepped between the two vampires. "Angel, he's with me. Stop with the bad moodiness." She reached behind her and took Spike's hand in her slender fingers. Angel gazed in horror at her gesture of solidarity with Spike, against him.

"Who the hell is that gorgeous boy?" Lorne whispered to Cordelia who had been closely watching both Angel and Buffy. She was unsurprised at his reaction to the slayer, but it still hurt. Cordy was also a bit hurt and angry that no one had commented on her glowy thing saving all their lives. Her head snapped around to face Lorne. The movement dislodged the headscarf and it fell to the floor, unnoticed.

"He's no boy," she hissed, keeping one eye on the frozen tableau.

"No, he's not! He is a hunk of a white chocolate that needs to be devoured. It looks like the little blonde is up for the job!" Lorne cocked his head and looked at Angel. "...Though maybe not in the way Angel-cakes is thinking. Spill Cordelia! Who is he?"
 

"He's Spike," Cordelia muttered, never taking her eyes of the scene before her, wanting desperately to step in and protect Angel, but instinctively, she knew that there was nothing she could do. This was something that he had to go through on his own.

"And..." Gunn widened his eyes, trying to encourage her.

"And what? He's a vamp. Drusilla made him. He hates Angel and Angel loathes him," Cordy snapped angrily. She tried to stop herself but something dark crawled in her and Cordelia was helpless against it. Angel had hypothesised, when Cordelia had finally brought it up, that it was the demon aspects that Skip had infused into her to save her life, but recently Cordy was starting to wonder if it was something more. It usually lay dormant, but recently she had noticed that it was stronger after a vision. Now Cordelia guessed the glowy thing was also a trigger for it. So consumed by her thoughts, she didn't notice her three friends exchange a few surprised looks at her agitated behaviour.

"You okay, Cordy?" Fred rested her hand on the angry girl's arm. Cordy shrugged her off. Fred frowned at the summary dismissal. 'Oh, I'm fine Cordy. Completely recovered from the freaky slug swallowing incident. Thanks for asking,' Fred thought resentfully.

"Angel? Maybe we could take a break from the angst-o-rama. I need to talk to you about what happened to me in the kitchen. We so need to research it." Cordy stood and turned, heading into the office. She paused when she realised that no one had followed her. She kicked the door shut, too embarrassed to go back out. She couldn't believe that she had just done that. It was like someone else had taken her over for a moment.

"I hate her," she muttered and reached for a book. She sat down in Angel's chair and began to pretend to read. As she sat there, Cordelia flicked through the book and surreptitiously watched the three of them. She couldn't believe that Buffy wasn't pissed that she, Cordelia, was now more powerful than her. "Whoa! Where did that come from?" Cordelia took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but before she could centre herself, she felt something push her conscience aside and let out the long forgotten Queen C.

"How hard is it to hit something? I mean, come on, I'm all with the visions, floating and, now, glowing. That's a load more power than Miss Sunnyhell will ever see!"

"Do you think I should go in to her?" Fred asked.

"No, honey, you need to rest." Lorne patted her hand. "Also, I think this may be a bit more interesting than listening to Cordy when she's sulking." Lorne sipped delicately from the bottle of Vodka he had rescued from Gunn.

"Angel, stop with the growlies. Please!"

"Yeah, Peaches! You sound constipated," Spike taunted.

"Spike! Stop provoking him," Buffy chided.

Angel watched the two bickering and a sick realization dawned. 'They're a couple.' He turned to his three friends on the sofa. "Guys, maybe you could give us a moment. Fred, you should get some sleep. Gunn?"

"Yeah, sure, come on. Lorne, give me a hand?" Gunn lifted Fred into his arms and swept past the blonde couple on the stairs with Lorne trailing mournfully behind them.

"But I want to stay and watch the show..."

Angel turned back to face Buffy and Spike. "Why did you come with Wes?" he asked, unable to face asking about what he had realized, preferring to broach the lesser evil.

"Wes? Oh well, we were visiting with him. He needed some help getting settled... You know, after the hospital released him." Buffy watched Angel closely. She was disappointed to see he didn't even twitch. 'He really has changed. He doesn't even feel bad about trying to kill his friend.' So, she tried to get a reaction, "You know, after you tried to kill him?"

He glared at her. "There's more to it than that," he said defensively.

"Do tell, Peaches," Spike drawled as he sat down on the stairs and leant back on his elbows. He wondered if Angel would spill about his spawn.

"It has nothing to do with you, Spike," the older vamp snarled, incensed that Spike had to witness his embarrassment. He also knew that they could hear everything Cordy was muttering in the office. He mentally winced, 'you'd think after years of working with me she would know how much I can hear.' He could see by their expressions that both Buffy and Spike could hear her as well. Their eyes kept flicking over to the closed door.

"Angel, we know about Connor," Buffy said gently.

"How?"

"I think maybe it would better if I asked you why." Buffy stared impassively at her first love. "Why didn't you call and tell me?" She watched as he got that familiar, patronising look on his face, the look that used to drive her nuts, the one that said, 'Oh, little girl, I am a grown-up and you will never understand the things I've seen and done'. She had only seen it a couple of times, usually just before he did something for 'her own good'. It used to hurt that he sometimes didn't treat her as an equal, but now she realised that she didn't care. She had Spike and, instinctively, Buffy knew he would never treat her like anything but the strong woman he knew she was and she loved him for it.

"You know, Peaches, there's these amazing, newfangled inventions called telephones. You pick up the receiver and punch in the numbers. Then you can talk to someone without having to do it face-to-face," Spike taunted Angel, knowing that the git probably hadn't wanted to tell Buffy. 'Because, one, he was a git, two, he was a coward, three, he didn't want the Slayer to know that the almighty Angel, defender of all that was good, had clay feet and lastly and probably more importantly, he had shagged Darla. Not something to brag about, just about everyone had been there and done that, well, except for me. I'm not up for sloppy hundreds! No way he would have wanted my girl to know he had moved on! Not if that meant Buffy wasn't patiently biding her time until they could be reunited.' Spike shuddered. 'Great, now I have the image of the caveman's naked body.' He eyed the aforementioned body critically. 'Piled on a few stone in the last year or so mate? I thought it was the birds that got extra padding when they were up the duff? Then again, soul boy would have probably wanted to feel the whole experience. Wonder if he got piles, too?' Spike thought wickedly. He grinned over at the fuming vamp and unconsciously flexed his muscles in his arms.

'I can't believe she is asking me these things! Connor is mine and she has no...' Angel stopped his angry thoughts for a moment and looked at Buffy. She was now sitting a step down from Spike and resting causally against one of his legs. 'Right! Who is this girl? There was a time when she would never have asked me things or gone against me to help someone who had taken my son away.' Angel was caught up in his self-righteousness and didn't realise how much his thoughts reflected his alter ego, Angelus.

"Angel, aren't you gonna answer me?" Buffy whispered. She wondered what the hell was going through his mind. Before Angel could respond, he noticed Spike eyeing him with a faint smile on his face. Spike's muscled arms rippled and Angel saw red. Before he could move, Buffy's voice pierced the red haze of anger around him. "Spike's right. If you couldn't face me, why not call? I would have sent a card and some of those cute baby clothes. Oh! Or a mini Gordo!"

Angel blinked and looked at Buffy as if she had grown another head. "Called you? Why? What's a Gordo?"

'He thinks he's her soul mate and doesn't even know who the pig is! Nonce!'

"About Connor?" she reminded him. "You know, your son?" She was also wondering how he could forget Mr. Gordo. 'I guess anything I care about wasn't that important to him in the long run.'

"And?" he asked defensively, anger now taking over. 'Why is she making me look bad?' he thought irritably.

"Yeah, Buffy? What does it matter to you if Angel had a kid? It's not like you were in the picture." Cordy's shrill voice echoed around the reception area. She had given up on trying to suppress her Queen C persona. It was getting harder every day. Even Angel winced at her bitchy comments as he snapped around and glared at her.

"Cordy, this has nothing to do with you. Why don't you go and find Groo?" he ordered, wondering if she had even noticed that her so-called love had been missing since the slug action had ended.

"But... you need me! You know how you get after a Buffy-angst-o-rama!" she whined. Her eyes widened when Angel shook his head and turned away to face Buffy.

"Believe me, Cordy, no angst on my side," Buffy wryly interjected. She eyed the seer, wondering if the reason Xander had been attracted to her was because, as the saying goes, like goes to like. 'Shallow goes to shallow in this case!'

"No, Angel, you need me!" Cordelia insisted.

"No, I don't. Leave. This is family business!" he growled.

"I thought we were family..." She trailed off at the looks on all three of their faces. Spike was openly laughing at her and Buffy stared at her in shocked surprise, but worst of all was the blank expression on Angel's face. She backed away and scrambled over Spike, through the glass doors and out into the courtyard. She kicked the door shut and tried not to scream. She pressed her shaking hands together. Trying to claw her way through the darkness and anger that was roiling through her, she took a calming breath. For a second, Cordelia felt better.

"Not needed, Cordelia?" Wesley's rough voice made her jump. "I would offer my sympathies, but to be honest, I couldn't care less." He straightened and stood. "I have to thank you for the get well cards, flowers and visits. Oh, my, no, I'm sorry, I don't." He glared at the obviously flustered girl, inwardly grinning at her discomfort.

"Gee, Wes, I had more important things to do. Angel needed me." She snapped back. 'Yeesh, Cordy, stop it! Wes is a friend.' She frowned at Wesley wondering why he just stood there and smiled at her. She hadn't said anything funny.

"You place too much importance on yourself!" Wesley growled, his shock at her arrogance causing him to lose his innate politeness.

"And I, Princess, do I not need you?"

'Shit, not now!' She whirled around, pasting a smile on her face. "Now, Groo, I explained that Angel and I have a lot of history."

"You wish," Wesley muttered. He didn't even try to contain his comments anymore. He owed no loyalty to any of them. Cordelia's smile faltered at his quiet comment. Groo just watched her with his wide blue eyes, waiting.

"Yes, I think I now understand how much you need him. I also know how much you need from me," he added sadly.

"What? Of course he needs me. You know how he gets, all sad and moody! He needs human contact to ground him."

"Cordelia, you do remember that you are part demon?" Wesley interrupted.

"Shut up, Wesley." She dropped all pretence of civility, hating that he was able to out-bitch her.

"Groo, honey, you know how I feel about you, but there's so much going on at the moment at work. I want to keep you separate from all that. You know, just special Cordy time." She reached over and tried to touch Groo but he stepped back.

"Me, me, me. Cordelia, I really believe you have managed to surpass even yourself in self-absorption!"

"I said shut up, Wes! Also, get lost!" she yelled. "You're ruining everything!"

"No, I believe he is quite correct. I also believe it would be better if you returned to your home, Cordelia." She started in shock. It was the first time Groo had called her by her full name. She didn't know what to say or what had gone wrong. "Go home, Cordelia, and get some rest. I shall join you later." She nodded, overwhelmed by everything. She pulled her cars keys out of her pocket and walked away. The seer felt sick to her heart for the way she had treated all of them. 'It's probably better if I get away from everyone.'

"I thought she would never go."

Groo sighed, worry etched over his face. This was not the same funny, bright girl he had fallen in love with in Pylea. Instead, there seemed to be a darkness in her that was surfacing more and more. It was only his sense of honour and his affection for Cordelia that had kept him trying to find his lost princess, but there was a point where he had to call a stop. He knew that time was now.

"I am truly sorry."

"As am I. It is unsettling when the one I thought I loved is not truly who she pretended to be."

"I have a feeling Buffy is experiencing the same thing with Angel."

They walked away from the doors and headed out onto the street. They stood watching Cordelia's jeep screech around the corner.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly. I'll do my best to give you an honest answer, Groo."

"What do these women see in him?"

Wesley laughed. "You know, I have often wondered about that myself!"

*********

Angel rolled his eyes at the conversation that all three of them had overheard. He strained to hear what Groo and Wesley were saying, but their voices were drowned out by passing traffic.

"Wow, Angel, I thought she had changed." Buffy laughed.

"She has, really. I promise." He chuckled.

Buffy and Spike exchanged a puzzled look. Angel had gone from being about to rip their heads off to joking about Cordelia.

"Angel, you okay?" Buffy asked.

"Peaches, you channelling Dru?"

With that, Angel's control snapped. Snarling, he leapt at the smirking vamp. In his haste to get to Spike, he elbowed Buffy in the face. He didn't even hear her cry out as she slipped and cracked her head on the marble floor. Spike saw it all, but before he could reach for her his arms were full of a berserker vampire.

He fought defensively.

For a spilt second, he saw Buffy struggling to her feet. Blood poured from her head and her left eye was rapidly swelling shut. He snarled, his game face coming to the fore and he threw himself at Angel, all thoughts of playing nice gone.

She was hurt. Buffy was bleeding.

It was a messy fight. No elegant leaps or combination kicks.

Fist and fangs.

They rolled over and over.

Biting and clawing.

Knees violently arching up into the other's groin.

Anger numbing the pain.

Spike twisted out of Angel's strong hands. He leapt to his feet and began to unleash a flurry of kicks. Angel grunted with each contact of Spike's boots, his arms curled protectively over his head after one blow caught him firmly in the nose, shattering it. Blood poured down his face as he flipped to his feet.

They circled each other like a pair of boxers, but they paid no heed to the Marquis of Queensbury rules. Elbows and fists connected with sharp slapping noises. The occasional snarl and grunt was sounded.

Spike spun on his right heel and kicked Angel in the stomach, sending him flying. He slid ungracefully over the reception desk, scattering files and paperwork everywhere, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. For a second, there was a groan of pain, then silence.

Spike waited, cracked his neck and shook his hands out. He glanced briefly over at Buffy. She blinked and nodded slightly whilst she let Groo and Wes tend to her injuries. He tilted his head in a question and she answered by waving her hands for him to continue.

Angel reappeared and launched himself at Spike. Before he could land a blow, Spike had twisted his hand in his shirt and began punching him.

"You git!" Thump.

"Bastard!" Thump.

Angel wavered on his feet, disoriented from all the abuse his body had taken. Spike noticed that the fight had shifted in his favour. He smirked. His game face slid away and with a barely suppressed growl, he raised his arm.

"Never." Slap. Spike had uncurled his fist. His open hand caught Angel across the face.

"Never." Slap.

"Touch." Backslap.

"Buffy," slap. "Like," slap. "That!" Slap. With that, Spike punched Angel in the temple, dropping him instantly. He kicked Angel once more in the nuts for good measure. "Actually, never touch her again!" Then, he ran to his love's side.

"You okay, Sweet?" His hands hovered over her injuries. For a brief second he caught Wesley and Groo's eyes and nodded his thanks.

"I'm okay. Just need an ice pack or two," she pouted up at Spike's battered face. "I think you might need a bit more help than me, darling."

Groo returned with some blue gel ice packs and handed them to Wesley. He shook them and gently applied one to her rapidly bruising eye. He also grabbed the first aid kit Groo had found, placing it next to him. The silent man cleaned the cut in Buffy's hairline. He then deftly applied butterfly stitches and covered the wound with a bit of gauze and tape. At the same time he was tending to Buffy, Groo had cleaned the cuts on Spike's face and wrapped the vampire's bleeding knuckles.

"Do you have any wounds elsewhere, Champion?" the Pylean asked solicitously.

Spike peered at him through two bloodshot eyes. "Champion?"

"Indeed," Groo answered gravely.

"I need a cigarette." Spike patted his duster, looking for a packet. He was overwhelmed at the title the strange-looking man had given him. He was secretly chuffed, though! As he searched for the elusive packet of ciggies, he winced. "I think I might need my ribs wrapped as well."

Groo pulled up Spike's shirt and began to feel along his ribs.

"There are some cracks, but nothing broken. May I?" He nodded towards Spike's rapidly reddening chest.

"Go ahead, mate. Thanks for the help." Spike shrugged off his duster and then very slowly raised his arms, allowing Groo to carefully wrap his aching torso. His blue eyes never left Buffy as she allowed Wes to apply a second pack to her bandaged forehead.

They all ignored Angel when he groaned and rose slowly to his feet.

He watched the four figures on the stairs angrily. When he saw what he had done to Buffy, the anger was replaced with guilt.

"Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"You never do, Angel," Wesley replied quietly.

"Buffy, please, look at me!" he begged.

"Angel, enough!" she snapped. Tired and aching all over, she felt a bit sick from the blow to her head.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." She looked sadly over at him.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he pleaded.

"I know, but you always do," she whispered.

"I would never consciously hurt you!" he exclaimed.

"Really, Peaches?"

"Keep out of this Spike!"

"No, I will not. You wan' another round?" Spike growled.

"Both of you, enough!" Groo shouted. "This behaviour is not becoming!"

"He's right," Wesley added.

"Angel, you have hurt me a lot, but there is a way for all it to stop." Buffy rose shakily to her feet.

"You'll get rid of Spike?" he asked hopefully.

"Never," she snapped. "But there is something you can do."

"Anything... Let me make this right."

"I hoped you'd say that. I want to break the claim you forced on me," she announced as she trailed her fingers over his scar on her neck.

Angel stepped back, stunned. 'How? What? How did she know?' He scrambled to recover. "What are you talking about?"

"Stop it, Angel! I know about the claim you made on me and then abandoned!" she shouted.

He shook his head. 'No, no. I can't. I won't let her go. Not now. If I tell her about the Shanshu, she'll wait!'

"Angel, I want to do it! It's over, we have both moved on. It's time to let go of the past. If you feel anything for me then you will do this for me." She calmly stepped towards the retreating vampire. He stumbled and sat on the circular sofa that had been knocked aside in the fight.

"I love you."

"I know."

"Don't make me do this! I can't," he begged.

"I will make you break the claim and you can do it. I'd like to do the ceremony now." Buffy sat down again and leant against Spike, drawing strength from his quiet support. Angel watched them for a second. Then he rose and stormed out of the reception and up to his rooms. The sound of his thundering passage filled the large area.

"Well, that went much better than I expected," Buffy commented.

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