Fear. It makes the heart beat faster, the pulse race. It speeds up the breathing, the fight or flight response in full effect. For those that share their flesh with a demonic presence, there are other issues. The demon stirs, making the desire to fight even stronger, even though there is nothing to fight. And then there are the fangs, golden eyes, and feature shifts that are impossible to hide in close quarters.

Had Angel been anything other than what he was, he would have been gripping the armrest with white-knuckled strength. He was afraid he was going to hurt something, though. He had not been more aware that he was not completely human that he was at this moment. Not a good way to start his honeymoon.

"Hey," Buffy said gently as the plane taxied down the runway. "Are you okay? You’re tense."

"I’m fine," Angel managed, but his voice came out tight and strained.

Buffy was not convinced. "Angel?" she asked, her brows raised, clearly not believing his ‘fine’ statement.

"What?" he asked. He could not help but grab the armrests when the plane began to move again.

"Have you ever been on a plane before?"

"No," Angel said harshly, staring out the window at the runway moving by. The plane was turning now to be in position for takeoff. "Hard to fly and avoid sunlight…."

His explanation was cut off as Buffy reached across his lap, slid the window shade down, and just as the plane picked up speed pulled his head to hers for a forceful kiss. Angel was startled at first, and then he met her kiss eagerly. He wrapped his arms around her - my wife. She’s my wife. - and drew her as close as their respective seats would allow. So involved was he in the kiss that he didn’t even feel the plane leave the ground.

What seemed like both an eternity and the shortest moment later, Buffy pulled away and grinned as she caught her breath. "Better?" she asked with a grin.

"Mmm, yeah."

She positively glowed. "You’re not scared anymore?"

Angel smiled back. "Well, you might have to do that again. You know, in case of emergency."

Buffy laughed even as they leaned towards each other again. "In case of emergency, huh?"

"Mm hmm," Angel mumbled in response the second before their lips met once again. Across from them, he could hear another couple of the passengers whisper.

Let them whisper. She’s my wife!

Buffy awoke slowly, delightfully tired and perfectly happy. She stretched, smiled…and stopped, all before opening her eyes.

She was alone in the bed.

Feeling the familiar clutching of fear in her stomach, Buffy flailed a bit in the bed as she opened her eyes. She calmed almost instantly. In sight, lit only by the early morning sunlight filtered through a crack in the curtains, sat Angel in one of the hotel room chairs. He was wearing a robe, and had a pensive look on his face. He didn’t turn when Buffy stirred.

"I didn’t mean to startle you," he apologized.

Buffy looked at him as she propped herself up on one elbow. "What are you doing over there?" she asked, letting her concern show through.

"Looking," Angel said softly.

Buffy frowned at his response. "I thought you lost the cryptic with the need for blood."

"Yeah, well, I still need blood on occasion, too."

There wasn’t much Buffy could say to that. "Come back to bed, please? It’s cold without you."

Finally Angel turned, and he was smiling very slightly. "Anything for you," he whispered, rising from the chair. Climbing back into bed, he removed the robe and Buffy contentedly snuggled into his bare chest

"So." she said at last. "What do you mean when you said you were ‘looking?’"

Angel sighed, and Buffy fought not to smile at the movement of his chest. This was a serious moment.

"It’s silly," he said at last. "Or, well, I was silly to think…."

"To think what?"

Angel was not looking at her as he spoke. "To think that things wouldn’t change. To think that years that touched everywhere else wouldn’t touch here. That it would be like I remembered. Nearly two-hundred and fifty years, and I’m the only thing that hasn’t changed."

"Yes, you have," Buffy tried to reassure him.

"Not physically."

"But you will now!" Buffy pointed out. "You’ll age right along with everything and everyone else."

Still Angel was frowning. "We don’t know that. Remember? No one knows exactly what the spell entails."

"So time will tell," Buffy said easily. "What brought this up now? I thought you were supposed to have these sorts of doubts before the wedding."

Finally Angel looked at her. "I’m not having doubts," he said. "I’m just…feeling my age this morning."

Buffy couldn’t help but chuckle. "God, I hope not!"

Angel at last grinned back. "Not physically. Just…I hardly recognize Galway anymore."

"Is that why we’ve spent the last two days almost exclusively in the hotel room?" Buffy teased.

Angel laughed. "No, that’s because I can’t get enough of you." He kissed her, and for a moment Buffy’s concerns for him washed away.

When they broke apart, Buffy was grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, is that all?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

Angel nodded.

She had to force herself to be serious again. "I’m not going to just drop this, you know."

"I know."

"But you’re okay now?"

Angel nodded slower this time. "I feel fine. Really."

"You’re not just humoring me?" Buffy asked. "’Cause I know you weren’t feeling well yesterday, and you didn’t want me to know."

"I’m fine. It was probably just some food disagreeing with me. I do need to rediscover what my body likes and doesn’t like, after all."

"You’re sure?"

Angel smiled tolerantly. "Really, I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me."

"I can’t help it," Buffy explained.

"I know the feeling," Angel said, and kissed her again.

This was getting very close to becoming something more than sweet morning kisses, what with them both naked in the bed. As nice as that idea was, and it was their honeymoon, Buffy had other ideas for the day. "And no more brooding?" she asked when she could breathe again.

This time Angel did laugh. "You just won’t give up, will you?"

"Nope!"

Angel raised his hands in mock surrender. "No more brooding, I promise."

"Good!" Buffy said, and she sat up in the bed. "Come on. Out of bed with you."

"But you just got me in the bed!"

Buffy smiled. "If we wanted to spend the entire honeymoon in bed together, we didn’t need to spend the money for plane tickets to Ireland," she pointed out. "This is my first trip overseas, and you are going to show me around, mister!"

"Yes, ma’am!" Angel agreed, smiling. He jumped out of bed as well. "Where to, my lady?"

For all of his playful attitude, Buffy stopped smiling. "I know I said no more brooding, but I think there’s something we need to do before anything else, and I think you know it too."

Angel stopped smiling. "I know."

Watching, I keep waiting, still anticipating love,
Never hesitating to become the fated ones.
Turning and returning to some secret place to hide;
Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say,
"Take my breath away."

In the nearly two hundred and fifty years that had passed since Angel had risen from the grave a newborn vampire, the cemetery had grown and the town had grown around it. Standing inside the front gate, with Buffy at his side, he froze. An odd, distracted part of his mind noted that this was the first time he could remember entering a cemetery to pay his respects to the dead, not to deal with the undead. This was the first time he’d seen a cemetery in daylight.

Buffy’s hand was on his arm, gentle and reassuring, and Angel sighed. She was right – he needed to do this. But standing here now, all Angel found himself remembering was his own grave, rising confused and hungry, and Darla watching pleased as he made his first meal of the groundskeeper. He shivered slightly at the memory.

"Hey," Buffy’s voice was soft, concerned. "You okay?"

Angel nodded and swallowed before he could trust himself to speak. "Memories," he said at last.

"You weren’t the same person then that you are now," she said confidently. "Surely they know that as well as I do."

Angel nodded slightly, not telling her what he’d actually been thinking about. The closer he came to living a normal human life, the more unsettling such memories became. One moment he was content in the company of his new wife, the next he was remembering what it felt like to crawl from the grave. There was a headstone with his name on it – his human name, unused for centuries – in this very cemetery. He could think of no other living being that could say the same.

And then, as if Buffy’s words had triggered it, Angel’s mind went to the death of his own family. At his hands. His victims. While intellectually Angel knew those actions were the fault of another, the demon that still shared his flesh, that did not change the fact that he could still remember how their blood had tasted…

Buffy squeezed his arm. There was little she could do to comfort him at the moment, but her presence here was enough. It was unlikely he’d be able to go through with this without her. Looking down at her for a moment, Angel forced a smile.

Buffy was visibly relieved. "So," she said at last. "Where exactly are we going from here?"

Angel was flustered for a moment. "Uh…I don’t know, exactly."

"’Cause I’d rather not wander the cemetery aimlessly," Buffy pointed out. She looked up at him for a second with an odd grin on her ace. "Is it just me, or is it weird to be in a cemetery in the daytime?"

Angel smiled very briefly back. "If we can find the older sections of the cemetery, I can find them," he said at last. That of course assumed they’d been buried together. Please, let them be buried together. In truth, Angel didn’t even know if they’d been buried, if they’d had a proper funeral. There had been such fear in the village by the time he took his family’s life….

He forced his feet to move along the cemetery path. He had to find them. Somehow, he just had faith that he would.

"Can I help you?"

It was a sign of how preoccupied Angel was with his thoughts that the older man startled him with his presence. He was dressed in plain clothing that was dirt spattered, and Angel guessed he was the groundskeeper. Immediately Angel’s mind went back to the groundskeeper when he rose; his first victim.

The expression on Angel’s face must have been peculiar, for the man looked at the two of them uncertainly. "You looked a bit lost. You looking for something?"

Seeing that Angel wasn’t going to answer, Buffy smiled at the man. "Some of his ancestors are buried here," she lied easily. "We were hoping to pay our respects, but we don’t know where their, uh, family plot is."

The man smiled slightly. He turned from them and called out to a barely seen person a short distance away. "Shannon!"

The woman in question weaved around some shrubbery to join the man on the edge of the path. She was a bit older than Buffy and had a large camera slung over one shoulder. "Yes?"

The groundskeeper turned back to the two of them. "Shannon’s a bit of an amateur historian," he explained. "If anyone can help you find something, she can." He looked at the woman hopefully. "You got time to help…" he paused and looked back at Buffy and Angel. "I didn’t get your names."

"I’m Buffy, and this is Angel," Buffy explained easily.

"They’re looking for ancestors," the groundskeeper said to the woman.

Shannon smiled. "Sure, I can help," she said.

The groundskeeper smiled back at her and returned to his work.

"So," Shannon said at last, "what are you looking for? What time period?"

Finally Angel managed to bring himself to speak again. "1753," he managed.

Shannon looked at him a bit wide eyed. "A lot of deaths that year," she said.

Angel winced. The smell of fear, boarded up windows, old myths thought incorrectly to protect, and Darla’s laughter…

"I wonder what happened that killed so many?" the woman was still saying to herself. Then she smiled. "Well, no matter. I can get you to the right general area. I hope that will help."

"Thank you so much," Buffy said, smiling back. "I was afraid we were going to wander in here for hours."

Angel said nothing, but followed the woman’s lead with Buffy’s hand tight in his own. He searched the surrounding area, searching his oldest memories for anything at all that looked familiar. All the grave stones looked so similar, blending together in his head… Conversation fell silent as they walked, and every once in a while Buffy would squeeze his hand in reassurance. Angel could not bring himself to smile at her in turn. He was so…nervous, he supposed.

"Well," Shannon said after a little while. "This is the right area. Now, what’s the name you’re looking for?"

But Angel wasn’t listening anymore. He dropped Buffy’s hand and walked between the headstones, knowing exactly where he was going now. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. He heard Buffy and their guide a short way behind him as he walked. He stopped abruptly, facing four headstones that were too familiar for all that he’d never come to visit there before. Weather had worn them away until they could no longer be read at all…but he knew.

Standing facing the graves of his family, Angel found he had absolutely nothing to say.

Buffy stood back, looking at Angel with absolutely nothing to say. They’d both known, when they’d chosen this destination for their honeymoon, that this was something they were going to have to do. Or, more precisely, something Angel had to do. Only he could make peace with the deaths of his family. No matter how much Buffy wanted to stand by his side, wrap her arms around him and make the pain go away, she knew that this was one thing he was going to have to do on his own.

Their guide through the cemetery had not left them when Angel had found the graves she sought, but stood a couple of steps to Buffy’s right. Buffy looked at her, and the young woman turned to meet her gaze. Quietly, Buffy closed the distance between them.

"So," Buffy said softly, not wanting to disturb Angel, "you’re an amateur historian?"

Shannon shrugged. "Not really. I’m actually a nursing student. I just…have a thing for graveyards."

Were the moment different, Buffy would have smiled. She knew how that felt. Instead she just nodded.

Shannon didn’t notice. She was watching Angel with a very peculiar expression on her face. Angel was now crouching over one of the graves, his fingertips just barely touching the weather-darkened stone. "Your ancestors?" she asked simply.

"His family," Buffy replied, a total truth that could be easily interpreted differently from how it was meant. Buffy ached to comfort Angel, and was wracking her brain for any conversation to distract herself. "One of the headstones is damaged," she said abruptly.

The one to the left of the one Angel was touching had a large crack down the middle, nearly splitting it apart. Shannon frowned. "It’s empty," she said.

"What?"

Shannon shrugged. "There’s no one in that grave," she explained.

Buffy shivered involuntarily. No matter that she knew Angel had a grave, that he had risen like so many vampires Buffy had staked on their very first nights. Hearing someone else confirm that grave was directly in front of her…just reminded her of how bizarre her life was. "How do you know?" she asked.

Shannon looked at Buffy again, and there were hints of embarrassment in her gaze. "It’s going to sound strange…" she began.

"Probably not," Buffy replied. "You’d be surprised."

Shannon glanced at Angel again, then nodded. "Perhaps." She shrugged. "I…have a sense of the dead, I guess."

Buffy cringed. "Wow. Morbid," she said. She’d never heard of such a thing. "And yet you’re a nursing student?"

Shannon smiled. "Gotta have something to balance it out."

Buffy watched as Angel stood, his shoulders slumped unhappily. She excused herself from the young Irish woman and no longer resisted the impulse to rush to Angel’s side. She stepped next to him, not touching him at first. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Angel did not look at her. He sighed, and Buffy gently clasped his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. He looked at her, then gave her a very slight smile. "Not really," he replied.

Buffy understood. Or, well, not really, because she had never killed her family and outlived them by centuries, but it hurt her to see him hurting. She felt it. "I think they would be proud of you now," she said. "I think they’d be happy for us."

Angel smiled, a hint of humor in his gaze despite the pain. "I think my father would be absolutely shocked that I’m married."

Buffy chuckled. Reassuring, she gave his hand a slight squeeze.

Angel nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Buffy knew what he meant. "Always," she replied.

Removing his hand from hers, Angel took three white roses from under his coat. Gently, he placed one on each of the graves, leaving only the broken, empty one bare and neglected. Buffy tried not to look at it as they turned away.

He nodded very slightly to Shannon as they passed, thanking her without words for her help. She nodded back.

It could have been Buffy’s imagination, but she could have sworn she felt the young woman’s curious gaze follow them all the way out of the cemetery.

Through the hourglass I saw you.
In time you slipped away.
When the mirror crashed I called you
And turned to hear you say,
"If only for today, I am unafraid.
Take my breath away."

They had not closed the curtains when they had fallen asleep the night before, and the midmorning sunlight shone brightly across the bed. Buffy stretched, smiled and rejoiced in sunlight’s warm embrace before she even opened her eyes. She sighed, awoke, and blinked for a second in the brightness. She watched the dust motes dance, glittering in the space between the window and the bed. So much that famous Irish rain; it was yet another sunny and unusually warm day.

Buffy, now awake, could not wait to get the day started. She and Angel were going into Galway City today to wander the narrow streets that now made up the shopping district. She wanted to hear from him the way the city used to be, to learn about the places where he’d been centuries ago. Everyday, she learned a little bit more about the man who was now her husband.

"Angel," Buffy said softly, rolling to face him.

He did not stir. Some time in the night or early morning he had practically burrowed into the blankets, pulling them up until only the top of his head was showing. Buffy chuckled to herself.

"Angel," she said a little louder, gently shaking the lump she assumed was his shoulder.

Angel groaned and rolled a bit away from her.

"Wake up, sleepy head," she insisted.

"Buffy..." Angel complained sleepily, his voice muffled by the comforter. Still, he moved, and emerged from the blankets. He blinked momentarily in the brightness, winced, and then went back under the covers. "Could you just close the curtains?" he requested.

"It’s a beautiful day," Buffy pointed out.

"Please..." he said, sounding a bit pitiful.

Buffy smiled and climbed out of bed to do as he requested. Moments after the curtains were closed and the room was enveloped in darkness, Angel let out a small sigh and his head emerged from the covers. Buffy grinned at him. "Good morning," she said happily, coming to sit back on the bed.

"Morning," Angel said softly, still quite sleepy. He didn’t look too well, his expression more than just tired and his complexion pale under the faint tan he’d started to acquire.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked gently.

Angel just made some completely unintelligible noise.

Buffy reached over to him, her hand lightly touching his forehead. "You might have a slight fever," she said.

Angel’s lips quirked. "A downside to being semi-human," he said.

Buffy smiled back at him. "Yeah." She ran her hand along his unusually warm brow. "Why don’t I get food brought to us this morning?"

Angel sat up in bed and shrugged. "I don’t know if I’m going to eat anything," he said simply.

"You should try," Buffy insisted. "A little bit of food, a little bit of blood..."

"You’re awfully calm about this," Angel observed.

"You’re not the first person to get sick," Buffy pointed out. "The first half-vampire, probably, which allows for the blood addition, but I don’t see how this should be so different."

About fifteen minutes later, both of them were dressed and the small table across the room had on it a small pot of coffee, a basket of scones and brown bread, butter and jam, two bowls of porridge, and a container of blood from the local butcher for Angel. They sat together in comfortable silence, Buffy happily eating her breakfast, Angel following suit a bit slower. He didn’t look like he was feeling any better now that he was awake. In fact, the longer he was up the less well he looked. Buffy was just about to call the day quits and confine them both to the hotel room.

Angel didn’t complain, though. Slowly, he worked on the breakfast put before them, both the food and the blood. He tried to smile reassuringly at Buffy.

His false smile was dropped nearly as soon as he tried it. Stopped just short of reaching for a sip of his blood, Angel’s eyes went wide and he dashed to the bathroom, where his stomach proceeded to rid itself of everything he’d consumed that morning. Buffy pushed her food away, and followed him into the open bathroom once it seemed his retching was finished.

Angel was rinsing out his mouth in the sink, now looking absolutely miserable. "Now that is part of being alive I could have done without," he grumbled.

Buffy gave him a small, sympathetic smile. "I know the feeling," she said. "Come on – we’re not going anywhere today, and you should get back in bed."

Angel did not protest as she led him back into the room.

At first, Buffy had thought it was just your average stomach bug. A little time, a little rest, and plenty of fluids and he should be okay, right?

Of course, Angel was pretty good at going against people’s assumptions.

As midday rolled around, Angel looked decidedly worse. By early afternoon, he spent most of his time completely out of it and when he was awake...well, he wasn’t much more with it than when he was asleep. It absolutely terrified Buffy. She knew he hadn’t been feeling perfect most of the time since they’d been here. But this sudden, swift decline...

It was reminding Buffy eerily of the time he was poisoned and almost died.

Except then, she had friends around her to find out what was wrong, and how to fix it. This time... I can’t take him to a doctor. I mean, what kind of doctor could I take him to? He’s not quite alive, he’d definitely not normal, he still needs to consume blood to survive... How the Hell would they diagnose him?

But if she could not take him to the hospital, perhaps the same people as helped him before could do so again. Now how in the world do you call the U.S. from here?

Willow was on her way out the door when the phone rang a bit after ten o’clock. Xander, Anya, and Tara were waiting for her at the beach, and for a moment Willow considered just letting the phone ring. Her conscience got the better of her, though, and she managed to answer it just before the answering machine would have picked it up.

"Uh...hello?" she said a bit breathlessly.

"Willow, thank god you’re there!" came the urgent voice on the other end.

Willow blinked. "Buffy? What’s wrong? And why are you calling me when you’re supposed to spending time with your new husband?" If Buffy hadn’t sounded so upset, Willow would have grinned. She’d missed Buffy in the several days she’d been gone.

"Angel’s sick," Buffy said quickly.

Willow frowned to herself. "He’s almost human now," she said, not quite understanding. "He can get sick, I guess. I mean, I’m not sure, but...I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about." Buffy was calling her from overseas for this? How much was this phone call costing her?

Buffy’s voice got a bit louder, obviously upset now. "No, no," she said. "I don’t mean ‘gee, I have a sniffle and should get some cold medicine’ sick. I mean ‘maybe I should rush to the hospital’ sick. I think something is really, really wrong, and I don’t know what to do!"

"Buffy, calm down," Willow said gently. Mentally she began to run through her magical knowledge and the old medical textbooks she’d read. "Tell me what exactly is wrong."

Buffy let out a long sigh. "He hasn’t been feeling well since soon after we got here," she said, fighting to stay calm. "He didn’t want me to know, but...this morning it was worse. He had a slight fever, he threw up...and then it just got worse from there. Willow, he’s all feverish and asleep and I’m really worried."

"I don’t know what to tell you," Willow said gently. "I mean...this is the sort of thing you need a doctor for. Not an international phone call."

"I can’t take him to a doctor!" Buffy said, even more upset.

She had a point there. "Buffy, if this had a magical cause, I might be able to help you, but...."

"The spell crystal is flickering," Buffy said abruptly.

"What?!" Willow said, sitting down quickly. She was terrified that something might go wrong because of a spell she cast. Again. Especially when this one seemed to have been doing so well! "Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?"

"Because I just thought to check, okay?" Buffy snapped. Then she sighed. "I’m sorry, I’m...."

"Worried. I got that. I don’t blame you," Willow said quickly.

Her friend was silent for a moment. "You don’t think something could be...interfering with the spell, do you?" she asked.

"I don’t know," Willow admitted.

"Please, Willow," Buffy pleaded.

"I...uh...." Willow swallowed hard as she thought. "If this has supernatural causes, there should be some sort of trigger, right? Anything unusual happen before you left?"

Buffy let out a wry chuckle. "I got married, remember?"

Yeah, sure, that wasn’t something you do every day. But still.... "Anything else?"

"Uh..." A long pause as Buffy thought. "Spike showed up at the party," she said suddenly. "He gave us presents, actually."

"What did he give you?" Willow asked, surprised.

Another pause. "A pair of matched swords. And..." She did not finish the sentence.

"And what?"

"Willow...."

"Buffy, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me," she said.

"Sex toys," Buffy forced out. "Weapons and sex toys. Okay?"

Willow felt herself turning bright red. "Have you used them?"

"Willow!"

"Well?" Willow prodded.

"No!" Buffy said quickly, then added, "Neither one."

"Oh."

"I don’t know how long I can talk," Buffy said suddenly. "I bought a phone card, and I don’t know how many minutes it has, and..."

"It’s okay. It’s okay," Willow said, trying to calm her.

"No it’s not!" Buffy replied, her worry coming out full force.

"Then it will be okay, alright?" Willow tried. "I’ll call Giles. I’ll call every body. We’ll go over spells, we’ll research, we’ll look at the wedding presents...."

"Can’t you do anything now?" Buffy asked.

"I don’t know what to do now," Willow said helplessly. "I’m sorry."

Buffy let out a long sigh. "Whatever you do," she said softly but sternly, "do it quickly. If he keeps getting worse...."

"We’ll do everything we can from here," Willow promised.

"Good," Buffy said, and the call cut off.

Watching every motion in this foolish lover’s game;
Haunted by the notion somewhere there’s a love in flames.
Turning and returning to some secret place inside;
Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say,
"Take my breath away."

The drawn curtains cast the room into permanent twilight, despite the afternoon sun outside. The flickering crystal cast its fitful light over Angel’s face, making him look even paler than before. The light of its magic pulsed in time to Angel’s heartbeat, and flared in response to Buffy’s touch.

Angel’s odd fever had not improved. Buffy frowned, her heart breaking to see him like this. Gently, she wiped his forehead with a damp washcloth. The crystal glowed a bit brighter for a moment.

He blinked at her. "Buffy?"

Buffy smiled as best she could. "Hey," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Angel grimaced, and that was response enough. So was the odd look in his eyes, which made Buffy wonder just how lucid he was at the moment or if he was stuck in the grasp of some sort of fever dream. He swallowed hard. "It hurts," he said after a moment.

"What hurts?" Buffy asked gently.

Angel opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. He shrugged helplessly.

Buffy touched his cheek lightly. "Hold on a sec," she said, and rose from the bedside. She could feel him watching as she went to the other side of the hotel room. She poured him a glass of water and grabbed the container of Tylenol she’d bought on her errand for an international phone card. It was supposed to be good for fevers too, right?

She pressed two of the pills into his hand, then held out the glass. "Take this," she ordered.

He blinked at her and looked about to protest.

"Do it," she insisted. "It’s not blood – just water. You need to drink something. It’ll make you feel better."

He looked a bit doubtful, but did as he was told. He sat up higher for a moment, washed down the pills, then drank the rest of the water slowly. That done, he sank back into the bed. His eyes were drooping, and Buffy knew he was near sleep once again.

"I never wanted to leave you," he whispered abruptly.

Great. More mental meanderings into the past. "Ssh," Buffy said. "I know."

"Didn’t want to..." he said again, his eyes closing. His breaths were quickly back to the regularity of sleep.

Buffy sighed. He wasn’t getting any better. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for the gang back home to figure something out. She needed to do something, now.

She needed to find someone who could help him.

Buffy pressed her lips to Angel’s forehead, and he moaned slightly. "Don’t worry, love," she whispered. "I will help you."

Buffy was nearly frantic. She hated every moment that she was away from Angel. She found herself thinking horrible things, imagining Angel’s horrible fate the longer she was away. She needed...anything, anyone who could help him.

She found herself, almost without thinking about it, at the gate of the old cemetery. Perhaps she’d set out for here intentionally – her thoughts at the moment were too wild to tell one way or another. She did not slow down, hurrying into the old graveyard until she nearly ran straight into the old groundskeeper.

He blinked at her in surprise. "Are ye all right, dear?" he asked gently.

Buffy struggled to catch her breath. "Please," she panted. "I need to find..." Oh god, she couldn’t remember the woman’s name! "...Shannon! Please, is she here?"

The older man still looked startled by the urgency of her tone. "Shannon?" he asked in confusion.

"Hello?"

The faintly familiar voice came from behind Buffy, and she turned with relief and renewed urgency. She faced the woman with need clear in her face and tone. "Please," Buffy said quickly, "I need your help."

"My help?" Shannon asked, bewildered.

Buffy swallowed, trying to figure out what exactly she could and should say.

Shannon’s eyes went wide before Buffy could say a word. "Where is your companion?" she asked, her voice touched with faint realization and suspicion.

"Angel...he’s sick. Really, really sick, and you’re the only one I could think of to come to," Buffy explained quickly.

Shannon frowned. "Why come to me?"

Buffy hesitated, barely noticing the groundskeeper moving off to leave the two of them alone. "You’re a medical student, right?" Buffy asked.

"Student, yes," Shannon agreed, emphasizing the word ‘student.’

Buffy swallowed, then plowed ahead. "And...I saw you watching us when we were here, together," she said. "You know that he’s not normal," she finished quickly.

An odd look crossed Shannon’s face. "He hovers a line between life and death," she said, sounding distracted.

Buffy blinked. "Uh...yeah. I guess that fits."

Shannon looked at her sharply. "He’s...the one from the empty grave, isn’t he?"

Buffy swallowed. "Yes," she forced herself to say. The sense of urgency redoubled. "Please. We need you. He needs you. You know something of the supernatural, and you’re the only one I could think of who might be able to help."

Shannon followed the American girl into one of the finer hotels near the waterfront. Her unusual talent told her nothing about the odd girl, but she didn’t need anything of the sort to comprehend her distress. Her worry radiated off of her in waves. She hurried through the corridor, and Shannon was hard pressed to keep up with her.

"Here," Buffy said quickly, unlocking the door with an easy movement.

Shannon followed without a word, her extra sense kicking in. She could not make heads or tails of it, except that someone here was connected to the dead.

The hotel room was oddly lit – a creeping of sunlight from between the heavy curtains, a pulsing red light from a large, faceted crystal on the nightstand. The room was a bit too cool, and smelled slightly odd. It was not a comfortable room.

The figure in the bed blinked at them. "Buffy?" His voice was a bit hoarse.

The younger woman rushed to his side. "Angel," she said, quietly pleased. "You’re awake."

Shannon hung back, feeling awkward. That sense of the dead she possessed was filling her with conflicting feelings – one moment on the brink of death, the next fading into nothing. It was like nothing she’d ever sensed before, and it confused her.

"Where were you?" Angel asked softly.

"Going to get help for you," Buffy replied.

He scooted up in the bed, rising to a seated position. The crystal’s light flared across his face, giving it a sickly cast. His hair was plastered down with sweat. "I don’t need help," he said defensively.

Buffy glanced at Shannon, then at Angel again. "Don’t be silly," she said. "You’ve been sick." She reached and touched his forehead. "You are sick."

Angel pulled away from her touch. "I’m feeling better," he insisted.

Shannon did not smile at the stubborn patient, though she wanted to. It was Buffy’s earlier frantic state that stopped her. "Your wife has been very worried about you," she said, stepping forward.

Buffy nodded pointedly.

Angel looked at Shannon suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"We met her in the cemetery, remember?" Buffy said patiently. "She’s a nursing student. She...also has some knowledge of the supernatural."

Angel glanced at her, and Shannon nodded acknowledgement. His suspicious gave did not waver, though Shannon was starting to have her doubts as to just how lucid he was at the moment.

Angel looked at Buffy again. "You didn’t tell her...."

Buffy bit her lip. "Not exactly...."

"I don’t need help," he reiterated. "I’ll recover. I always do, remember?"

"I was worried about you!" Buffy defended herself. "I’m still worried about you! This isn’t like you, Angel. What’s going on?"

"I don’t know...." He looked confused, and started to try and rid himself of the blankets.

Buffy fought him every step of the way, and Shannon’s sense of him flared the whole time from extreme to extreme. Something was very wrong here...or not. She couldn’t figure out enough of what was going on to know. This wasn’t something she learned about in nursing school.

Finally, Angel managed to free himself from Buffy’s grasp and from the blankets. He was starting to try to climb to his feet. "Damn it, Angel!" Buffy yelled in frustration and terrible concern. "Are you being stubborn-delirious or just plain stubborn!?"

He said nothing, visibly shaking as he rose to his feet.

Shannon tried her best to be a voice of reason. "You need to rest," she said calmly. "You’ve been very ill...."

"I’m fine!" he yelled at both of them. "Please. Just let me...."

Then Shannon’s sense of him flared once more, the crystal flashed brilliantly...and Angel crumpled to the floor.

Buffy screamed.

They were both scrambling to the fallen man’s side when Shannon paused abruptly. Her sense of him...that sense of treading the line between the living and the dead...was gone.

"Angel!" Buffy was calling frantically. "Come on, Angel!" She pulled his head into her lap and looked up at Shannon, terror in her eyes. "Please, help him!"

Shannon crouched beside the two of them, confused but pleased. "There is nothing for me to do."

Buffy paled. "You don’t mean...."

Shannon gave her a small smile. "No, I don’t. Look at him, Buffy."

The young woman did as requested. Angel was breathing deeply, a very small smile on his face. "I don’t understand..." she said at last.

"There is nothing for me to do," Shannon explained, "because there is nothing that needs to be done. The entire time since I have met you, he has felt to me...like neither alive nor dead. Alive but tied to death. I have never felt anything like it. He doesn’t...feel like that anymore. He feels like you do." She smiled, both reassuring and pleased. "Whatever was wrong, it has fixed itself now."

Some understanding that Shannon could not grasp passed over Buffy’s face. "So you’re saying...." In her lap, Angel stirred, and her question was forgotten. She smiled vibrantly. "Angel."

Her husband blinked at her, confused and possibly disoriented. "Buffy?"

"Of course," she replied, both teasing and relieved. "How do you feel?"

"Different," he said, still looking confused. Then abruptly he grinned widely. "Buffy...I...think the demon’s gone."

Buffy gasped, smiled, and held him tightly.

And on the nightstand, the crystal glowed even brighter than before.

Their last day in Ireland was cool and misty, threatening rain. The air felt almost uncomfortably damp, but it didn’t matter. Everything else was just too right for the weather to stop their happiness.

They walked along the waterfront, hand in hand. They didn’t say anything, but they didn’t really need to. Buffy couldn’t help but grin. The hand that she held was warm – fully human warm. She’d never felt anything so delightful.

Buffy was not worried about whether or not things would stay this way. This was how things were. She was resolved to just enjoy it. Let others do the worrying.

"Buffy!" Willow’s voice was panicked. "I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. We’re all going nuts here."

Buffy chuckled slightly at her friend’s panic. Now that things had worked themselves out, that panic just seemed so foreign.

"Huh?" Willow asked, startled by Buffy’s laughter. "What? I don’t...?"

"It’s okay, Will," Buffy assured her.

"But it’s not!" Willow protested. "I mean..."

"Everything is okay now," Buffy interrupted, enunciating slowly.

"What...? You mean Angel...?"

"Is back to normal," Buffy said. She grinned, looking at her husband across the hotel room. He was standing in the window, the setting sun bathing his entire form. Buffy could see his clear reflection in the glass. He was smiling. "Better than normal, actually."

Willow was still confused. "He’s feeling better?"

"Um, yeah," Buffy said with a laugh. "He’s completely, 100 percent human now."

"What?!" Willow shrieked. Buffy could hear startled reactions in the background.

The ex-vampire in question could not miss Willow’s reaction either, and turned away from the window. He came to stand behind Buffy, his hands placed lightly on her shoulders as she continued to talk. "You heard me," Buffy said, leaning back into his chest. "We don’t have the faintest clue why, but one moment he was sick, the next - poof - no more demon."

"You mean it?"

Buffy nodded even though Willow couldn’t see her. "Uh huh. No more problems with crosses or sunlight, no cravings for blood, normal reflection and body temperature...."

"Oh, wow," Willow managed. "So, uh, I guess you don’t need us to be in full research mode anymore."

In the background, Buffy could hear Xander say, "Oh, man!" in mock disappointment.

"Actually...we could still use a little research," Buffy said. "It’s just not so urgent anymore."

"What is it?"

"Well, it would be kind of nice to know how this happened," Buffy explained.

Willow chuckled. "Got it," she said.

"Thanks, Willow."

"No problem," Willow replied. "Just, you know, I want details when you get home."

Buffy grinned. "See you soon."

For a moment, the sun worked its way out from behind the clouds. It warmed them both like a blessing. Angel squeezed Buffy’s hand lightly. She looked up at him to see him smiling into the sunlight.

After a second, he met her gaze. His expression was the most carefree she had ever seen – well and truly happy. That warmed her far more than she sunlight ever could have.

"Are you ready to go home?" Buffy asked gently.

Though she didn’t think it was possible, Angel’s smile got even wider. "Yeah," he said. He looked out over the water of Galway Bay for one last time. "Home."

Home. Their home. Exhausted and jet-lagged though they were, it was a delightful sight. Buffy couldn’t help but grin. This was their first time in their home as husband and wife. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t fancy, but it was theirs.

At the doorway, smiling as well, Angel abruptly let go of his large suitcase.

"What...?" Buffy asked, startled...and was suddenly and quite literally swept off her feet. "Angel!" she shrieked from her new perch in his arms. "What are you doing?"

He was grinning from ear to ear. "Carrying the bride over the threshold," he declared, keeping one arm securely around her as he reached for his keys.

"Let me." Buffy slipped her hand into his pocket and pulled them out. Smiling still, she put the key into the lock and Angel used his side to open the door. It swung open easily and....

"Surprise!" The small living room was packed with their joint friends.

Angel, startled, stumbled in the doorway.

"Don’t drop me!" Buffy yelped – to the laughter of her friends that heard her.

"I won’t," Angel said calmly, putting her back on her feet inside the apartment.

"What are you guys doing here?" Buffy asked at last as Angel ducked back outside to grab the luggage.

Willow stepped forward and smiled. "We missed you," she said. "We all wanted to welcome you home."

Angel looked a bit befuddled as he closed the door behind him. "How did you all get in here?" he asked, confused.

Buffy’s mother held up a spare key.

"You gave your mom a key?" Angel asked Buffy in a whisper.

"For emergency use only," Buffy said loud enough for everyone to hear her. "Not that it’s not nice to see you all, but we have been in the air and on the road for...I don’t even know how long anymore...and we’d really like to rest."

Xander chuckled in obvious disbelief. "Sure that’s what the two of you had planned...."

Buffy felt herself blushing furiously. "It was!" she declared.

Xander wasn’t the only one who chuckled at that.

"You guys...." Buffy tried again.

Giles cleared his throat to gain her attention. "We also came because we thought you might want to know what we discovered...regarding Angel’s state."

The entire mood of the room seemed to change. Buffy felt her stomach clench in nervousness and Angel stood behind her quickly in support. "Good news or bad?" Buffy asked urgently.

"Good news," Giles assured her.

Willow was grinning and nodding along.

Buffy let out a small sigh of relief. Side by side, she and Angel made their way to the couch and waited for the rest of the story to be told.

After a long moment of tense silence, Angel spoke. "Is it permanent?" he asked quickly.

"Yes," Giles assured them both, and only then did Angel relax as well.

"So what is it, you guys?" Buffy asked urgently. "What happened?"

Willow gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "I...it was partially my fault."

Buffy couldn’t help a small smile. "What did you do this time?" she asked, half teasing.

"Nothing!" Willow said quickly. "I mean...nothing you didn’t already know about. Just the initial joining spell."

Buffy was confused. "But...it’s been months since then."

Willow nodded. "Long term effects?" she said helplessly. "At least it’s a good one, right? Unexpected but good. Right?" She looked to Angel for reassurance.

"It’s good," he said. "So what happened?"

"Well...we didn’t think about how...unique you both are. I mean, sure Angel’s all special ‘vampire-with-soul,’ but...I kinda didn’t take into account Slayer stuff."

"Slayer stuff?" Buffy prompted.

"It’s mostly guess, mind, but...we think that once the spell bound your lives together...whatever it is that makes you the Slayer went after what made him a demon," Willow finished explaining.

"So...that’s it?" Buffy asked, surprised at the explanation.

"We think your wedding may have given the situation the last little push needed," Giles added. "It means you aren’t just joined by magic, but on a deeper level as well."

There was silence in the room for a long moment. "So," Angel said at last, thoughtfully. "No more demon."

"No more demon," Giles agreed. "You do indeed seem to be fully human now."

"And the wedding presents had nothing to do with it," Buffy said. "I was just being paranoid."

Xander laughed abruptly.

"What?"

He shook his head in amusement. "After you first called about the presents, Willow and I went to confront Spike."

"You guys!" Buffy said quickly. "That’s dangerous! I can’t believe you..."

Xander shrugged. "We were careful!" he said defensively. "Besides, ol’ chip-head...he was all ‘a guy can’t give his sire a wedding present?’ which we knew was total bull."

"It was...odd," Angel agreed.

Willow nodded, grinning. "He finally admitted that he tried to curse the presents."

Xander started chuckling again. "The chip wouldn’t even let him touch them after her thought of that!"

Buffy shook her head at that, amused. On some level, Spike would never change. "So," she said at last, "I guess that’s it."

"One other thing, actually." It was Wesley, speaking up for the first time in the large gathering. "Mr. Giles and I do have another theory that goes along with all of this, Angel. Because it is Buffy that you’re joined to, and she already has supernatural strength and healing...we don’t think the loss of your demon means you’ll lose those advantages."

Angel smiled. "That’s...good."

Grinning, Buffy leaned into his shoulder. "Thanks guys," she said to everyone gathered. "For everything."

"It’s a big deal, isn’t it?" Willow asked, sounding amazed and happy.

"Yeah, it is," Buffy agreed. "Kinda overwhelming."

"Endless possibilities," Joyce spoke up, smiling happily at her daughter. "Are you ready?"

Buffy looked at Angel and his gaze met hers. In that moment she had only the smallest inkling of what was ahead of them – the wars and victories, the good times and bad, the joys and pain. The smile they shared held joyful anticipation of all of that.

"Yeah," she said. "We’re ready."

The End