Willow found Buffy in the bedroom the blonde shared with Angel, studiously avoiding looking at the big bed toward the far end of the suite.

"Buffy," Willow said quietly, "are you okay?"

Buffy laughed harshly, her gaze tracking the big bedroom she shared with Angel. "I am the exact opposite of okay, Will," she whispered.

"Yeah, and you were that way before Cordy came in," Willow said firmly. "What... tell me what happened."

And she did. Buffy collapsed onto the bed she and Angel shared, and after the first few whispered words, Willow fell down next to her, gripping Buffy's hand tightly for support (though whether she was lending or taking, she couldn't be sure).

Everything spilled out, from Buffy's melancholy-induced midnight stroll, to her sensing Angel's presence, to her literally falling down on top of Angelus and Dru. It got harder as she described Angelus tying her down, beating her, screwing her, but the worst of it came when she admitted to Willow her dirty little secret.

"I liked it," Buffy whispered. "God, he was practically raping me and I felt this visceral, animal rush. What kind of a monster am I, Will?"

Willow didn't bother to mention that he hadn't 'practically' raped Buffy, as far as she was concerned. At this point in time, she didn't think Buffy particularly wanted to face the fact that she =had= been raped by a demon who wore the face of the man she loved. Instead, Willow tried to focus on assuaging Buffy's fears.

"You've got new parts to you now," Willow said slowly. "You're not a monster, it's just that there's these new feelings you've got to figure into who you are now--"

"How can you say I'm not a monster?" Buffy whispered.

"Because I love you," Willow said. "I love you best, remember?"

Buffy sobbed once, loudly. "Still?" she asked, her meaning clear: even after I murdered the woman you loved?

Turning on the bed, Willow gently brushed the hair back from Buffy's face the way she'd watched her friend do for Dawn a thousand times.

"Always, Buffy," she said quietly, with two simple words granting the blonde at her side something she'd almost stopped hoping for -- forgiveness.

"I don't know how you can stand to be in the same room with me, let alone still be my best friend in the whole world," Buffy confessed.

"Love makes you do the wacky," Willow said. "All types of love. All types of wacky."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed hollowly. "Wacky."

"Buffy," Willow said hesitantly, "I know you want Angel back--"

"I need him back, Will," she interrupted. "Especially after... how can that be my last memory of him?"

"After you... after you woke up," Willow said diplomatically, "Angel... he said that he wished I hadn't cursed him before. He said he didn't want you to suffer like he had. That he wanted to spare you that. Buffy, are you sure you want him to remember..." Her head indicated Buffy's beaten form, "everything? Do you want him to have to live with that?"

"No, you're right," Buffy said slowly. "I don't want him to have to live with it. I'd do almost anything to spare him this pain."

Nodding slowly, Willow squeezed Buffy's hand. "So maybe we should start thinking of a way to stake him carefu--"

"But he's just going to have to deal," Buffy said crisply. "It's selfish. I know that. But I can't do this without him. He swore he would be with me forever, for always, and I believed him. I can't face eternity unless I know he's going to be there with me."

"But, Buffy--"

"Angel has more compassion than I do," she said softly. "He always has. He doubts himself so much, always felt so unworthy of me, when really, of the two of us, he's always been the bigger person." She shrugged helplessly. "There's no way I'm letting him go now. I can't."

Willow stared into Buffy's eyes for a moment, saw the resolve set there. Then, slowly, she began to nod again.

"I understand," Willow said quietly, thinking of her own inability to let Tara go. It hadn't been within her power to grant new life to her lover. But it was within Buffy's power.

And Willow was determined to make it happen for her.

but just because you love me
the way that you do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
if you want me to

"Can I help you?"

He definitely didn't like these two. The guy, big as hell, looked like he had splatters of blood on his shirt, and the girl was just wicked creepy. When she looked at you, it was like she didn't even see you there. Or she saw through you.

Her hand moved toward his shirt, and a blood red fingernail scratched lightly at his skin.

The boss was so not paying him enough for this shit.

"Brian," she said in a melodic voice, "we need something from you."

How did she... ? Oh, right. Nametag. Brian let out a sigh. Then, he looked down at his shirt. The boss didn't supply them with nametags.

"What?" he asked warily, creeped to the third power now. The guy was quiet -- a little too quiet, if you asked Brian -- and he was strolling through the super freaky occult section like he was browsing for tapes at Blockbuster.

"Something that will break their shield in half," she said.

"Whose shield?" Brian asked, getting lost in her eyes. Jesus, she was creepy. Although, if he looked at her in just the right light, she sort of reminded him of his girl.

"A little faster, if you would, Dru," the guy murmured as he flipped through that book on ancient death rituals that Brian had lost his lunch looking at the other day. The guy seemed amused.

"What sort of secrets do you have in here?" she asked as her fingernails began to circle around his scalp. "Ooo," she cried happily, scraping his forehead hard enough to draw blood. "There we are."

He was about to ask what the hell she was doing, and what the hell she was on, when all his outrage seemed to seep away. He couldn't remember why he'd been upset, and then Dori was standing in front of him.

"Baby," he whispered, "what's going on?"

"It's okay, Bri," she said in her low, husky voice. Dori played at the Troubadour with her band Saturday nights. Smoke, whiskey and singing had taken its toll on her vocal chords. "You need to tell me where it is."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused. Her hands were on his face, though, stroking him, and he didn't care about much of anything so long as she was touching him.

"Remember that book you brought home a few weeks ago?"

Dori liked to play around with witchcraft. She did stuff sometimes that freaked Brian out. He remembered a book he'd brought her . . .

"Binding," he said slowly.

A radiant smile lit her face. "Yes. Bri, where is it? Where's the book on binding spells?"

"In the Wicca section," he said. "There's nothing harmful in it."

Somewhere in his mind, he heard a man's voice chuckle "That's what you think," then, a second later, "got it," but he wasn't really sure, because Dori really did have such beautiful brown eyes.

"We're nearly finished," Dori said, only she wasn't Dori anymore, she was that weird chick that creeped him out.

"It's okay, Bri," the guy mocked, rolling his eyes as he came into view. "Such a sap." Then the girl's face changed, and she lunged for his neck. The guy followed her lead.

Brian stopped thinking.

'cause I'm not who I was
when I took my first step
and I'm clinging to the promise
you're not through with me yet

"Sun's comin' up," Spike said quietly.

Willow glanced up at him, a bead of sweat dripping from her brow.

"This Soul Blessing thing sure looked easier in the book," she muttered.

"Big bad magic usually does," Spike agreed. Willow was in her bedroom; had been for the entire night since the cheerleader came in and started sobbing her guts out. Buffy had told him -- none too nicely, he groused silently -- that Willow was trying to get the Blessing right. Spike didn't see why they were going through all this trouble for Angel, when it was easy as pie to shove a piece of wood through the bastard's heart.

He'd smelled him all over Buffy when she'd come in. It had angered him, filled him with almost as much jealousy as it had lust. After all, imagining the Slayer naked was half of all his fantasies. Naked in Angel's arms... well, okay, there were a few fantasies there, too. He hated the bastard, but he'd still been a Sire to him. Dru had been too weak, too crazy to act the part, and the role of disciplinarian, guiding force, had fallen to Angelus.

Sometimes, when Spike admitted it, he missed him. Not the lunatic that ran around trying to suck the world into hell he'd come up against the last time. No, Spike missed the demon who'd nearly strangled him to death (figuratively speaking, of course) a dozen times during the decade they'd spent together. He missed the almost-father-figure who'd let him stay in their psychotic little family because it pleased Dru, and gave him more time to devote to Darla.

Spike remembered, still, how damned happy he'd been sitting in that wheelchair the moment he'd realized that Angelus was back, and that soul-having poofter who'd been following Buffy around like a lost puppy was gone for good. It had felt like home, for the first time in over a century. Darla wasn't there, but he hadn't really missed her -- bitch had always gotten on his nerves, the way she'd monopolized Angelus' time, the way she'd so clearly scorned Spike and Dru.

That had all changed, of course, when Spike realized Angelus held more animosity for him than he ever had. That his time in confinement, forced down by a soul, had knocked him off his rocker. That without Darla in his bed to keep him satisfied, Dru made a suitable substitute.

That for whatever reason, Angelus no longer felt the need to invite Spike to join them. That Angelus had almost seemed to take more pleasure in rubbing in what he was doing to Spike than he had in actually fucking Dru.

It had hurt, but Spike had pushed it down. Then, the longer he watched Angelus grope Dru, the more often Dru chose to hunt with Angelus rather than stay behind with Spike, the easier it became to hate him. Hate was such a pure emotion, and much more stable than love. Love sent you off in a thousand different directions at once. Hate centered you, focused you, let you decide on a course of action and never waver.

The longer Spike spent here, around the big family Angel had built for himself, the longer he loved Buffy, and Willow < bleedin' hell, what IS wrong with me? > and genuinely liked the idiot Xander and respected 'ole Rupes... the harder it became to hold onto that hate.

And without clarity, it became easy to forget what he was.

"You should get some sleep," he said softly to Willow.

"I can't," she insisted. "Not until I figure this out."

"What good's it gonna do Buffy if you're too dead on your feet to curse Angel when the time comes?" he countered.

"Bless," she said.

He was confused. "What?"

She looked up at him. "Bless," she repeated. "I'm not cursing him. I'm blessing him."

Spike snorted. "Hate to break it to you, Pixie Girl, but there ain't a bloody lot of difference."

"Yes there is," she insisted.

"End result is still the same," Spike pointed out logically. "Angel's got his soul back and he can prance about in that tortured, broodin' way he's got."

"But he doesn't have to be afraid," Willow said. "Don't you get what a big part of him that fear is?"

Shrugging uncomfortably, Spike leaned back against the wall and lit up a cig. "Only difference I see is that he can shag the pants off the Slayer now," Spike said.

Willow leapt up, ripped the cig from his mouth, and ground it out roughly on the carpet. "That is =not= the only difference," she hissed. "He and I talked. More than you saw when we had that group meeting. He came to me after Tara died, he apologized, and we..." She sniffed. "Angel told me some things."

"Like what?" Spike asked, a little nervous around this physically angry Willow, and, truth be told, more than a little turned on. < I'll be damned, she glows when she's pissed >

"That sometimes when he laughs, he catches himself and does a mental check to see if he was too happy," she said, tears filling her eyes. "That he didn't want it to be that way for Buffy."

< bloody hell, she looks ready to sob now. >

"Hey," he soothed, going against his own instincts as he placed a hand on her shoulder < god, I'm touching her, I want so badly to touch her >, "but it isn't like that for Buffy, right? She's got this =Blessing=," he stressed the word, "and she never had to worry about that short-sided gypsy rot." She still didn't look cheered up. He playfully cuffed her on the shoulder. "And hey, Angel's used to being all guilty, right? And now he can shag Buffy." < did I just bloody say that? >

It seemed to lift her spirits slightly, and that made him almost happy.

< I'm making my own skin crawl. >

"I'm not really making any progress right now," she conceded at last.

< success! >

"C'mon," he said, leading her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and helped her lie down. He even went so far as to tuck her in. She was so exhausted, she didn't even fight him.

< maybe it's not just exhaustion, maybe she doesn't mind me touching her... >

Hope was almost as unstable as love.

"I'll bring you some food in a few hours," Spike promised softly.

But Willow was already asleep.

After staring longingly at her tiny body curled up so temptingly in bed, Spike flipped out the light and left her to her rest.

so if all of these trials
bring me closer to you
then I will go through the fire
if you want me to

"Strange, huh, how we're all sleeping during the day now."

Cordelia looked up. "Go away, Xander."

"Sorry, no can do," Xander said sincerely, taking a seat on the bed beside Cordelia.

"I can't talk right now," she said stiffly. "I can't talk, I can't cry, I can't do anything but sit here and feel useless, just like I was when..." A sob caught in her throat. "God, maybe I can still cry."

Xander slung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her to him. She pushed him away roughly and leapt to her feet, pacing the floor.

"I mean, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to feel? Do I have to blame Angel? Because I don't. I should, I know, that's what Angelus wanted, but I don't. I just want him back so he can hold me in that way he has and make me feel better." Tears were running down her cheeks again as she angrily paced. "He's the only one that makes me feel better after a vision. Even when later he annoys me like the rest of them do, right after, he just holds me. He holds me, and he strokes my forehead, and he makes it hurt less because he's there and when he went away I missed that so much and now I'm missing it again and he killed Gunn, he =killed= him right in front of me."

Standing, Xander approached her warily. She looked about a minute away from total meltdown, and her legs didn't seem to be supporting her so good. He tentatively put his arms around her, and sighed in relief when she collapsed against him.

< Queen C, emotionally available. Loved by an ex-vengeance demon, best friends with a witch and a Slayer, personally witnessed not one, not two, but three near-apocalypses. Ladies and gentlemen, I have seen it all. >

He held her and let her cry herself out once more. Then he led her back to the bed and sat with her again. He pushed the hair back from her face and thought about how much better he liked this Cordelia than the one he'd spent a year of his life kissing and fighting with. And he'd =loved= that Cordelia. He'd never really liked her, though. The feeling was mutual, he knew, and he thought that maybe she liked him a little bit now, too. It was something, at least.

"Will and Buff are gonna bring Angel back," Xander said quietly, hoping that would be a good thing to say.

"They have to," Cordelia whispered. "He has to... we need him."

Nodding, Xander motioned to the bed. "Like I said, we've been sleeping during the day, and as massively weird as that is, I'll give you another -- it's day right now."

Cordelia almost laughed. "That's amazing," she said sarcastically.

"You haven't slept in days," he reminded her. "None of us have, really."

"We had to keep..."

"I know," Xander soothed. "But we know how to now. We've just gotta get the right timing down. It's light out. There's nothing Angel--"

"Angelus," she corrected sharply.

Xander conceded her point with a nod. "There's nothing he can do until night. I say we recharge now so we're ready for him."

"Would you..." she looked down at the blanket shyly. "Stay?"

"I'm a comfortador," Xander said quietly, "'tis my stock and trade to stay with distressed ladies until they can face the world again."

"Stay, but shut up," she said with a smile as she lay back on the bed.

Returning her smile, Xander spooned up behind her, enfolding her in what he hoped was a comforting embrace. Then he ruined the effect by yawning loudly in her ear.

"I see right through you, Xander Harris," Cordelia said lightly. "You just want to lull me to sleep so you can cop a feel."

"Found me out," Xander sighed. "Hurry up and fall asleep before I pass out and miss my golden opportunity."

With a sigh, Cordelia closed her eyes and forced herself to try and sleep.

An hour later, both occupants of the room were snoring loudly.

it may not be the way I would have chosen
when you lead me through a world that's not my home
but you never said it would be easy
you only said I'd never go alone

"Hey," Faith said, flopping down noisily on the couch next to Wesley.

Giles sat in an armchair, still pouring over text. Lindsey was still sitting at the bottom of the staircase, contemplating all the mysteries of life, no doubt, as he stared at his prosthetic hand. Faith shook off the emotions coursing through her when she looked at him and focused on her former Watcher.

"Hello," Wesley said, clearly trying to concentrate on a piece of text.

Faith would have put a thousand bucks down on him not having read a word of it.

"You doin' okay?" she asked, trying to mimic some of the conversation starters Angel had used to pull her out of the shell of anger and pain she'd concocted around herself.

"Not particularly," Wesley answered in a clipped tone.

Nodding, Faith nervously worried her fingers together.

"Friend of mine got killed once," she said suddenly.

Wesley paused; turned to regard her carefully. Faith continued:

"She was my best friend, actually. We were like sisters. Which was good, considering our moms ended up passed out in the same spot on a regular basis, so we could book to whichever of our places was unoccupied." She shifted on the couch. "I didn't tell her, when I was Called. My Watcher said I couldn't tell anybody. But Lanie -- that was her name, Lanie -- she just wouldn't let it be, y'know? Knew there was something up with me. Dogged me every stinkin' day, wantin' to know what was up."

Her fingers were turning white, she was gripping them so hard, and she forced herself to place them on her knees.

"So one night she was following me, and I... I found a nest. I've never really been the cautious type, and I figure hey, I'm the shit, right? And if I'm not, another is Called, and there's that Summers chick still, anyway, so what the hell? I leapt 'fore I looked, and I was making progress, but Lanie... she never let me face anything alone in her life, and it wasn't any different that night.

"One of 'em had her in a second, and I screamed and I screamed and I felt whatever I still had inside of me that was still pure drip away with every drop of blood they spilled outta Lanie's gut. They uh... the vamps, they got in my face. Said I wasn't good enough to save her, that they were gonna kill me. Needless to say that didn't happen, but... it's still hard to believe that it wasn't my fault she died."

Faith awkwardly patted Wesley's shoulder.

"Not your fault either," she said quietly. "For not bein' there. You were doin' what you were supposed to, helpin' the best you knew how, and if you had been out there, Prom Queen would just be sobbing her guts out from losing both of you. It's better that you lived," Faith said intensely.

Wesley looked up at her with tears in his eyes. He took his glasses off, bowed his head, then looked at her again.

"It's better that you lived, as well," he told her quietly.

She was saved from formulating a response (which was for the best, because the only response she had was loud, bellowing sobs of release) by Spike's noisy entrance.

"Wanna move the fuck outta the way?" the vampire asked Lindsey as he stomped down the stairs.

"Not really," Lindsey answered calmly, still contemplating his hand.

Spike snorted. "Have I mentioned how glad I am you're here, law boy?"

Lindsey finally looked away from his hand, and up toward Spike. "And why is that?"

"'Cause everybody bloody hates you more than me," Spike answered cheerfully, shoving Lindsey aside with his foot. He winced, and his eye twitched at the pain the gesture caused, but decided it was worth it as he flopped down next to Faith.

Giles was still unobtrusively absorbed in his reading, but Spike had the notion that he heard every bleedin' word that went on around him, whether he let on or not. Spike liked that about him.

"Hey, Rupes," Spike said loudly. "Go get some sleep, mate, before you pass out and get the papers all wrinkly."

Giles shook his head. "I'm not tired, Spike, and do go and make a nuisance of yourself elsewhere."

Spike shrugged and shook his head. "Everybody else is sleepin'. Anyone with sense would be sleepin'."

"Then why are you awake, peroxide?" Faith asked, trying to ignore how his arm brushed against hers.

Smiling softly at her, Spike shook his head. "Ain't got no sense, love. Never have had." He focused on Giles again. "If you aren't gonna rest, put yourself to some good use, go check on Buffy." His face became grave. "I don't see as she's takin' all this too well."

Giles considered Spike for a moment, then tossed down his research and headed for the stairs. He also none-too-gently nudged Lindsey out of the way with his foot.

Spike grinned.

so when the whole world turns against me
and I'm all by myself
and I can't hear you answer
my cries for help

"May I come in?"

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" Buffy quipped, smiling a little.

Returning her pained smile, Giles walked into the bedroom she shared with Angel < her heart tugged painfully > and sat beside her on the bed.

"That seems to be the preferred position for comforting the basket-case Slayer-Vamp," Buffy confided.

"Yes, well, if something works," Giles said, then grew silent. "How are you, Buffy?" He grimaced. "I imagine that's a rather stupid question---"

"I hate not having him with me," Buffy said quietly. "I've always hated it, but it was bearable before. It's like ever since I was turned... it's like I'm not completely here without him."

Giles looked nervous. "Ah, yes, well... that might have more to do with your physiological situation than your emotional one."

Buffy furrowed her brows. "I don't think so. I've always been able to feel him, to sense when he was there. This isn't that different, it's just like... being able to really, =really= sense that he's =not= there. It's an acute lack of sense-age." She frowned. "It's unbearable."

"And not totally without reason," Giles said softly. "Buffy, you and Angel have shared blood. Several times now, yes?"

She winced, and tried not to think of the past day with Angel < Angelus, why can't you remember, you moron, =Angelus= >.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"In vampires, that creates a bond, often as strong as the Sire/Childe connection," Giles explained gently. "Yours and Angel's case is even more potent than that. You love one another with your very human souls, and that combined with a blood bond... I shudder to think how one of you might fare without the other."

"Believe me when I say it's not of the good," Buffy said weakly.

Giles nodded, and fell silent for a moment. Then, he turned to her, a worried, concerned look in his eyes.

"You do know that Mr. Gunn's death was in no way your fault, don't you, Buffy?"

Buffy turned to him, feeling numb inside. "What I know is that none of this would have happened if I didn't want him as much as I do." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I've only made love to him twice < that I can remember > and both times people have died because of it. Should that be telling me something? Was I clearly too dense to get the message last time? Did fate really need to clonk Buffy over the head with the 'not allowed to do it with Angel' mallet so she'd snap out of this happily ever after fairy tale world she's living in?"

Considering her for a moment, Giles took his time before he spoke.

"I don't believe you're living in a fairy tale world at all," Giles said gently. "And so far as you and Angel go... Lord knows I've had my reservations. But you love him. That didn't change with time, or space, or all the self-imposed distance you put between you. And it is clear to everyone -- these past months in particular -- that he is desperately in love with you." He smiled. "In all honesty, Buffy, when I look at things objectively, it warms my heart to know that a man like Angel will be spending your life with you. It makes it easier to accept that I most likely won't be here for even half as long as you exist."

Buffy let out a sob. "Don't say that. You can't die, Giles, not ever," she said intensely.

A ghost smile crossed his face. "I'm sorry to say that I can, and that I will. Don't get me wrong. I don't intend on leaving you all for some time. I think that perhaps you still need a Watcher, a little bit, at least. But a day will come when I'm gone, and I just want you to know... I'm so proud, Buffy, of you, of the life you're striving to build, and of Angel, as well. It will all work out, you'll see."

Sniffing noisily, Buffy threw her arms around him and hugged him so hard they fell off the bed.

I'll remember the suffering
your love put you through
and I will go through the valley
if you want me to

"The sun is sinking in the sky," Drusilla sang happily.

"And an army is rising with the night," Angelus added, watching the future wake.

They'd spread Brian's precious Dori out next to him. It had been laughably easy to get her to let them in. Holding Brian's lifeless body, Angelus and Dru had been frantic, spinning a ridiculous story about finding Brian unconscious on the walk, and could they come in and help?

People had been everywhere in the house. Dori had a band, and musicians today traveled in packs. All in all, Angelus and Drusilla had managed to turn fifteen. Angelus hoped they would be enough to gain the upper hand in the battle that was to be fought.

Buffy would not go quietly or easily, that he knew. In truth, he'd be a little disappointed if she did. But she would come, and she would be his. Dru had taken a moment to browse in the shop and come upon a book on demons. A particular species, she'd told him, could be summoned from another realm and used to literally suck the soul from a person's body.

First, though, he planned to spend a little more one on one time with his girl just as she was.

"Is it a party, daddy?" Dru asked from the window, the harmful rays of the sun completely gone.

"Yes, precious," he confirmed, watching as their 'guests' woke, starving. They desperately needed their first kill, and this house was oh-so-conveniently located near the hotel.

"Will there be music?" she asked.

He ignored her. "You're all hungry," he said to the newly risen before him. "That's good. You're confused. That confusion will pass. Your first meals will be the finest you'll ever have, provided you follow my instructions explicitly."

The girl, Dori, stepped forward and smiled, the sight gruesome and fangy.

Angelus contained the urge to giggle.

the pathway is broken
and the signs are unclear
and I don't know the reason
why you brought me here

Lindsey was still sitting on the staircase when it happened.

Faith had been telling a fish story of a vampire that once got away from her. Spike found it more entertaining than he cared to examine.

Moments before the shit all hit the fan, Spike cocked his head to the side. He could have sworn he heard something...

< SPIKE!! >

Jumping from the couch, he'd literally hopped over Lindsey's head as he raced up the stairs. He'd reached Willow's room in a few heartbeats and thrown open the door without knocking.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sweating profusely, her eyes black with the effort she was making.

< Drusilla > she whispered in his mind. < Woke up. Working on the Blessing. Felt her trying to knock the barrier down. She's winning... need Buffy... move me downstairs. >

He knelt down and scooped her up in his arms, running with her to Buffy's door. She and Giles were bent over some text, and the panicked look on his face (not to mention Willow's panting form in his arms) cut off any smart remark the Slayer had been about to make.

"They're here," Spike said hoarsely, turning to carry Willow downstairs.

Her voice whispered in his mind the tasks he was to perform, and he set her up in the corner she instructed < better energy here >, lit the candles she needed near her, even started burning the god-awful incense.

He spared a moment to ask her if she needed an orb or a shot glass or something, but she stopped the flow of panicked thoughts in his brain with her mind; soothed him, he realized much later.

< That's why it's harder. I have to hold his soul inside myself and send it to him. It's so hard... >

Unable to stop himself, Spike ran a hand down the side of her head. She was concentrating so hard, she didn't even feel it.

Cordelia and the whelp came hurrying down the stairs, obviously alerted to trouble by Buffy, and the cheerleader took over incense duty. Spike was grateful. Having Willow in his head was rattling him. In a good way. Which rattled him all the more.

"What the hell?" Faith asked, tense and ready as Buffy approached her.

"Angel's here," Buffy said softly.

< He's not alone >

"He's not alone," Spike said aloud.

< There's ten... maybe twenty with him. >

"He's got a small army," he added.

"Weapons," Buffy said crisply.

Wesley and Xander were already raiding Angel's arsenal.

No sooner had Buffy taken possession of one of Angel's broadswords, the doors burst open and a cadre of vampires strolled inside.

Buffy met Angel's gaze unflinchingly. "I won't let you hurt them," she said clearly, staring him down.

Angelus smirked. "Lover, I don't see how--"

"I won't let you hurt them," Buffy said loudly, "because when we get you back, you're already going to be seriously guilty."

Growling, Angelus vamped out. "Take them all," he bit out as he rushed for Buffy. He diverted his trajectory at the last minute, and dove for the weapons locker. He emerged with the broadsword that matched the one in Buffy's hand. "Remember this verse, lover?" he taunted.

"Oh yeah," Buffy said, beginning to circle him, vamping out herself. "Remember how it ends?"

And with that, there was only the sound of clanging metal between them.

Xander and Wesley weren't faring nearly as well.

The two men were trying to protect Cordelia, who was in turn protecting Willow and waving smelly herbs, but the minions seemed to sense that something important was brewing in the darkest corner. Xander and Wesley were being beaten away from the women, and more vampires were descending.

Spike and Faith were fighting with their backs against one another, trying to make their way to something wooden they could fashion into a stake.

"You'd think with all the antiques in this museum Angel would have a nice cherry wood desk or something," Faith complained.

"The mighty thing in the other room is oak," Spike said.

Faith calculated the distance. "You clear a way for me, keep 'em off my tail, I can make it."

"Consider your tail my top priority," Spike answered.

Faith set off at a run.

Lindsey still sat at the foot of the staircase.

"Gee, Buff, once again, it doesn't feel like your heart's in this," Angelus bemoaned as he and Buffy fought.

"Guess again," she snapped, delivering a roundhouse kick to his jaw.

In return, he backhanded her. Cut her cheek with his =Claddagh= again. Her pissed off meter soared another few notches. She lost all sense of finesse and flew at him with a flying tackle.

Angelus was so shocked at the move that they went tumbling to the ground.

Buffy landed on top of him, straddling his body as she rained blow after blow down on his face. Angelus felt her losing control, perhaps even losing sight of the fact that she wanted her boy back. He glanced around frantically until he caught sight of Giles, being severely beaten by Dori.

"Hey, Buff," he said lightly, "you ready to lose the last parent you've got?"

She paused, and turned toward Giles. With a final, bone-crunching punch to his jaw, she leapt up and went to rescue the old man. Angelus looked around. It was just Glenn Close guarding the little witch now. He rose.

Wesley and Xander had been fought back to the opposite end of the hotel. Three vampires had overrun them at once. One of them managed to get Xander in a chokehold, and the other two swarmed Wesley. Xander felt teeth pierce his throat, and closed his eyes, praying to God he wouldn't rise again. And, for a moment, he was comforted by the thought that he would hold Anya soon.

Then, suddenly, the pain was gone. He spun around to see Faith behind him.

"Don't say I never did nothin' for ya," she said lightly, tossing him one of the 'stakes' she'd made from the desk.

"Hey, blondie!" she yelled, getting Spike's attention. She tossed him another stake, and he quickly began putting it to good use.

Buffy was fighting three at once. It had always amazed her how hard it was to kill the very new, and the very old. The old ones had experience and finesse on their sides. The young, though, had the kind of strength and determination the old envied.

Angelus crept up on Cordelia before she had a chance to realize he was there. Willow was too deep in her trance to notice. Cordelia whipped a cross out of her pocket and pressed it against the side of Angelus' neck. He howled, but didn't release her. They were both propelled further across the room, further away from Willow.

Drusilla, hiding in the shadows, saw that the little witch was unguarded.

And she glided forward.

"You won't take him away again, my lamb," Drusilla crooned, coming nearer to Willow. "Baa, baa, black sheep, alone from the flock."

Buffy took a quick survey of the room, and her heart leapt up into her throat when she saw that Willow was about to be taken by Drusilla. She opened her mouth to scream, then closed it again as the last thing she expected to see happened.

Without hesitation, and before Dru got within five feet of Willow, Spike was there, arm outstretched, stake imbedded in Drusilla's chest. She turned to dust before she had a chance to see who it was, and Buffy was briefly glad for that. No one deserved to see someone they used to love kill them. Willow was still in her trance, and had missed the whole thing.

Angelus knocked the cross out of Cordelia's hand and gripped her by the throat. "Bad move, 'Delia," he chastised.

"Go to hell," she whispered.

"Brave little seer," he murmured, varying the pressure of his hold on her. "I never should have let you go after I snapped your boyfriend's neck. I should have turned you right then. I bet you'd be a gas in the sack."

"A gas?" she gasped. "What are you, from the 40s?"

"Sharp tongue," he tsked. "He tasted good, 'Delia," he confided in a whisper. "Slid down my throat so good, melted like butter."

She whimpered.

"You never got a chance to taste him, though, did you, 'Delia?" he continued. "You know, this seems to be quite a pattern with you. I know!" he said triumphantly. "The next time you meet a guy, I say you jump him, right then and there." He squinted. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that there won't be a next time. My bad. See you when you wake, Princess." He brought her neck to his mouth, had just barely scraped the surface of her skin with his razor-sharp incisors when he stumbled.

His head bowed, and he moaned, his grip tightening for a moment as his entire body shook.

A sole remaining minion snuck up behind Faith, as her gaze never wavered from the scene before her. He was about to strike when he turned to dust. Faith whipped around to find Lindsey standing behind her, his prosthetic arm detached and held before him as a weapon.

Lindsey smirked. "End of the damn thing's made out of balsa wood. Don't that just beat all?"

Faith could think of nothing to say, so she turned her attention back to where everyone was looking.

Buffy was already next to Angel and Cordelia.

Willow collapsed, and Spike caught her before she hit the floor.

"Cordy," Angel whispered, releasing Cordelia. She fell, and he reached out to catch her so she wouldn't be hurt.

< hurt more you mean oh god what happened what have I done >

Wesley came forward and took Cordelia from Angel's arms, and the vampire turned, his gaze quickly scanning each face in the room, counting heads. One was missing. His gut tightened.

"Where's Gunn?" he whispered, his entire body shaking as his gaze darted around the room wildly. He didn't know if he was looking for escape, or someone who might be willing to kill him.

"Angel," Buffy said quietly, approaching him warily.

His startled gaze flew to her, and her eyes looked sadder than the last time he'd seen them, and dear god he didn't want to remember what he'd done to her this time.

He must have said some of that out loud, because Buffy slapped him, hard, across the face. He was so stunned he couldn't react, not even to bring a hand to his stinging cheek.

"You will remember," she said clearly. "You will remember and you will deal. I =need= you," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't do this alone. I need you to lean on. And I need you to lean on me. I understand, finally, exactly what you feel. Please, Angel, please don't leave me now, not out of guilt, not because--"

Angel stumbled forward and pulled her to him roughly, holding her close. She held him back, and they were crushing each other tight enough to break normal human bones as they sunk to their knees on the floor. Tears were flowing down his cheeks and he hadn't yet remembered why he was crying. He only knew what he felt, and he felt this was going to be worse than anything that had come before.

Buffy pulled away from him far enough to look him in the eye, and her face crumpled, the way he'd seen it do only once before, when she'd stared up at him and begged him not to kill himself just before it snowed.

"Stay with me?"

"Like it's even a question," he answered hoarsely, phantom memory of soft skin pressed to his as they slow danced until sunrise drifting through his mind, for the moment overpowering the powerful cascade of painful recollections.

He let the comfort of her lull him, however temporarily, as he pulled her closer, and wept.

but just because you love me
the way that you do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
if you want me to