"Secrets & Lies"

Author: Gia
Email: gia@everysixseconds.com
Notes: < > will represent the characters thoughts.

Buffy turned on her CD player and adjusted her headphones over her ears. She really didn’t expect to find anything worth her time tonight, but a quick sweep of the cemeteries and known demon hangouts never hurt.

Turning up the volume, she began to sing along quietly with the already playing song. "You probably think that I hold resentment for you,"  She rounded the corner, "But, uh uh, oh no, you're wrong," then crossed the street quickly, turning left. "'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do." Pausing, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder, her voice sounding a little louder on the quiet Sunnydale street as she continued, "I wouldn't know just how capable I am to pull through, so I wanna say thank you-"

She stopped again, turning to look behind her and peering down the street. "'Cause it makes me that much stronger," Shrugging, she resumed her walk and her song. "Makes me work a little bit harder."

"It makes me that much wiser," Whirling around, she kicked out with her leg and connected solidly with the demon behind her, "So thanks for making me a fighter." The demon fell back into the bushes as Buffy advanced, still singing along to the music playing through her headphones, "Made me learn a little bit faster, made my skin a little bit thicker" Grabbing he demon from the front of the shirt, she yanked him forward and drew back her fist, slamming it squarely into the demon’s nose. "Makes me that much smarter, so thanks for making me a fighter."

She pulled him forward again as she reached in her waistband for her stake. Her fist froze in mid-swing and her eyes widened with recognition.

Angel had only just returned from the grocery store, having admittedly skulked carefully back to Buffy’ condo to take every precaution to avoid another encounter with Betty, when he heard Buffy open the door.

He glanced up in surprise as Lorne followed her into the kitchen, his head tilted back and clutching his bloody nose.

Angel stifled a groan, wondering what Lorne had said to her and how he was going to explain the green demon's prescence to Buffy. Was nothing going to go his way in his quest to get her back?

"She hit me!" Lorne wailed pitifully, looking at Angel through his fingers as he continued to hold his head back.

"Hello, demon lurking in the dark and following me." Buffy shot him an irritated look out of the corner of her eye as she continued on into the kitchen. She glanced over at Angel. "I had no idea it was a friend of yours until after I hit him."

Angel nodded hesitantly, shooting Lorne both a worried and exasperated look.

"Let me get you some ice." She grumbled, brushing past Angel and opening the fridge. She pressed a bag of ice into Lorne’s hand along with some paper towels.

"I’m gonna go change." She stated as she left the room.

"Sorry." Lorne whispered conspiratorially to Angel after Buffy was gone, "But ouch."

"I told you not to let her see you." Angel replied in an angry whisper, returning his attention to unpacking the groceries that he bought.

"She’s caught me by surprise, Angel-face. What can I say?"  Lorne sat heavily in the chair, "Oh, god. Is it still bleeding? And what are you doing, my domestic dumpling?"

"Cooking dinner." Angel snapped in reply, opening the cabinets and searching for a cutting board. Finally finding one, he sat it on the counter along with a knife that he took out of the drawer.

Buffy retuned to the kitchen, having changed into a pair of light blue velour sweats with the word "juicy" written across the butt and a short, white baby t-shirt. The waist of the worn sweats were rolled down on her hips revealing a teasing glimpse of her abdomen as she walked, causing a significant rise in Angel’s eyebrows, not to mention a significant rise in another part of his body.

"Uh, aren’t you going to be cold in that?" Angel lifted a brow as she stopped next to him, then cast a warning look at Lorne.

"What? This? No. It’s fine." She replied casually, looking down at her outfit and plucking a small piece of lint off her breast before soothing a hand over her stomach.

Angel swallowed hard at the minute touch of her hand on her body and felt another rush of blood to his growing arousal. With effort, he dragged his eyes away from her torso and turned back to what he was doing.

Lorne studied Buffy covertly as she poured a glass of wine then peeked over Angel’s shoulder at what he was now expertly chopping up. She wrinkled her nose and Angel playfully brushed it with his knuckles before shooing her away. She stuck her tongue out at him and then sat at the table across from Lorne.

The Host then took in Angel’s demeanor; the playfulness with her that he’d rarely ever shown, the way the vampire’s eyes followed Buffy with a heated regard that was so intense it was almost palpable. The attraction that was radiating from him for the girl was loud and clear, almost screaming.

A growing sense of unease was building as he watched them together. Buffy’s tiny golden beauty was a perfect foil for Angel’s tall darkness. How could he ever have thought that Cordelia and Angel-?  Lorne felt as if he had been the victim of a prank, having thought that the two of them… He shook off the feeling, finding it uncomfortable. He hated being wrong, and boy, had he been wrong. Very wrong. Wronger than wrong. But there was hope yet, that Angel and his Buffy would work things out.

"How’d you know he was a friend of mine?" Angel asked, turning the stove on and tossing garlic and butter in the pan to sauté.

Buffy paused, holding the wine glass to her lips. Her mind flashed back to the day in the magic shop: Lorne’s voice ringing out happily through the store about Angel and Cordelia and their reconciliation. How perfect they were together, how right they were for each other. True Love. Fate. Destiny.

At her silence, Angel turned back to look at her. "Buffy?"

"Um, well." Buffy took a drink, wavering slightly as she considered what she would say with both Lorne and Angel’s eyes on her now. "I saw him once. When I was in LA."

"Oh no, my little lemon tart, I would have remembered you." Lorne insisted, wiggling his nose with his fingers and sniffing slightly. "I never forget a face that crossed my path at Caritas."

"Uh, no it wasn’t there." Buffy replied, dropping her eyes and leaning forward on the chair.

Angel watched her shrewdly; had she been by the hotel? Had she seen him? If so, when?

With a shrug of her shoulder, Buffy finally said, "It was at a magic shop. You were with another guy and er, talking about Angel. Not knowing many Angels – um, people named Angel that is, and not many Angel’s and Cordelia’s that would be mentioned in the same sentence I guessed that maybe it was the same guy." She paused, a glimmer of a memory stirring at the reminder of that day, the words that had been said, the pain that she had felt. It seemed a dream now. The memory was there but not the associated feelings.  "Well, let’s just say that sorta narrowed things down and I guessed."

"Really, pumpkin? How would I have ever missed you?" Lorne questioned, crossing his legs and adjusting the ice bag on his face. "And Angel, puddin’, that smells absolutely scrumptious!"  Glancing back at Buffy, the Host continued his questioning, "When was this?"

"Years ago. Three probably, maybe more. I was there on a research gig, not really a social thing." Buffy’s eyes shifted suspiciously over to Angel, even as she directed her question to the demon sitting at her table. "So, what are you doing in Sunnydale anyway?"

"Oh, well, I had some stuff – some papers – for tall, dark and broody here to sign. Work stuff really."

"Really? And you were following me down the street because… ?" Her eyes went from the green demon to Angel again, only this time the tall vampire was turned away from her tending the food on the stove.

"Oh, well, I couldn’t just let a pretty young girl walk out on the streets alone. Never know what kind of big bad you might run into. Could be a sexual predator, honey-bun, or worse. Of course, I had no idea you might have been more than capable of taking care of yourself – which, may I just say, ow."  Lorne lied glibly, settling comfortably into the chair.

"Let me take care of those *papers* Lorne, so you can get back to LA." With the pasta on to cook as well as the shrimp, Angel turned back to face the two of them at the table. Giving Lorne a meaningful look he nodded toward the door. He wanted to get the green demon out of Buffy’s condo as soon as possible – certainly before he slipped up any more than he already had. "I’ll be right back, Buffy."

"Okay." Buffy shrugged, taking another sip of her wine and reaching for the mail that she had brought in earlier.

"Well?" He asked immediately as they stepped out the front door and walked around the corner towards the Host’s sparkle-orange painted Miata.

"You know, I have to say, you and the little golden Twinkie there are just perf-"

"I don’t want your reading on her, on anything to do with us, I told you that already." Angel held up his hand, his voice almost a snarl. "All I need from you is a read on the magic. What can you tell me?" 

Slightly dumbfounded, Lorne adjusted his sleeves somewhat indignantly. "The well, my amaretto torte, is that your little popsicle there appears to be frozen solid. I see what looks to be solid blue sheet of ice thicker than thick surrounding her sweet little candy heart."

"And?" Angel insisted. He asked Lorne to see what he could tell about the magic spell and what the demon could tell about her emotions. He was particularly wanted to find out if her emotions were still accessible.  "Is it permanent?

 "Course, it was only a quick read… and her choice of tunes? You’ve got one wounded dove there, my friend. Great song though, love that Christina… What a voice." Lorne opened the car door, then glanced at Angel’s impatient face. With a shrug, the Host stopped his babble and answered the question, "Honestly? I don’t know. But I can tell you this – I could see the smallest crack there."

Angel nodded thoughtfully, watching as Lorne drove off. If it cracked, then it could break. That was something. Now he just needed Nikkos.

Angel returned to the house and finished cooking dinner, he and Buffy chatting amiably about various topics as he cooked and she sat at the table sorting through her mail and drinking wine.

He served her dinner and cleaned up while she ate, then joined her at the table. They sat together companionably in her small kitchen, Angel watching as Buffy finished off the last of the plate of pasta. He had no doubt that she didn’t eat as much or as often as she should, a feeling that sparked his protectiveness, an innate need to take care of her.

"This is wonderful." Buffy exclaimed, popping the last bite of shrimp into her mouth and closing her eyes as if to savor the decadent flavor. "I haven’t had anything this good since… since I don’t know when. I can’t thank you enough."

"I’m glad you like it," Angel indulgently replied, taking another sip of the red wine she insisted on pouring for him. "There’s dessert too."

"Really?" She opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling brightly as she jumped up from her chair. The muffled exclamation of delight coming from behind him as she peered into the refrigerator brought a smile to his face and he mentally noted that he’d have to bring her sweets more often.

"Here, let me take that." He took the cake plate from her, setting the chocolate frosted confection on the table as she plucked one of the decorative flowers off the top and popped it into her mouth. She turned and grabbed a plate out of the cabinet.

"Ummm… this is sinful." Buffy murmured, reaching for another of the sugary flowers before cutting a piece of cake and sliding it on the plate.

With startling clarity that would have mystified his demon and his friends, he wished to arrest this moment in time, finding an almost ethereal enjoyment in Buffy’s enchanting beauty and her obvious delight in such a simple pleasure.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. He hated to spoil the mood, but he had to talk with her before heading back to LA.

"Buffy. I was wrong to leave you."

"Angel-" Buffy murmured, her mouth full of cake, a slight smear of chocolate at the corner of her lips.

"Let me finish. I have to say to say this." His eyes were grave, his voice low, constrained.

"Okay." Buffy licked away the chocolate smear and Angel suddenly felt that he had been cheated, despite the fact that he probably wouldn't enjoy the sweet anyway. It sparked a brief memory of the day that wasn't, the day that he had tasted chocolate from her lips, delighting in the taste.

"My relationship with Cordelia …  I just fell into it without really thinking. Connor was born and she was there." He paused, watching her face carefully for any nuance of her feelings. "It was nice, you know, sharing it with someone, having someone to lean on. Afterwards it seemed that everyone was pushing us together - Fred and Lorne with the whole key’rumption thing, the incident at the ballet… It was like everyone expected it to happen."

Buffy nodded slightly, an almost imperceptible movement.

"I wanted something, I guess. A relationship, maybe." He shrugged slightly, glancing around the room as if looking for something in the sparse kitchen that would help clarify his words, his feelings. Then, turning back to her he murmured, "I knew even before she and I became involved that she had slept with Connor. I saw them together. I should have known that she continued to sleep with him these last few years, but I don’t think I wanted to know. Or maybe I just didn’t care."

He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes.

"Angel-" She said quietly, feeling the anguish in his voice.

"I should have said something but I didn’t. I’m not sure why." He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, "Maybe I didn’t want to rock the boat with either of them since my relationship with Connor was so strained."

Buffy only watched him, uncertain of what to say.

"Buffy, he had so much hatred in him. So much hatred for me."

"Oh, Angel." She whispered at the obvious pain in his voice. "I’m sorry."

"I was lost for awhile, then I simply grew…complacent. I’m ashamed now of what I’ve let myself become."

"It’s okay Angel. I understand." Buffy interrupted, reaching a hand across the table to touch him on the arm. "We weren’t part of each others lives anymore. You had every right to move on." She paused, smiling sardonically. "Or down, in the case of Cordelia."

He grimaced and Buffy shrugged and mouthed the word "Sorry" with a small smile.

"I never should have lost sight of the fact that I love you. That I’ve always loved you."

Her smile disappeared and he thought that he’d lost her with his candor.

She shifted nervously on her chair. A hush descended on them as Buffy searched in vain for her feelings. She remembered that she loved him once, but she no longer felt it. It no longer consumed her, filling her every thought and every feeling, threatening to send her shattering into a thousand tiny pieces at any moment. He had given her more joy and more pain than anything else she had ever had in her life, yet now she only had a vague memory of those feelings instead of the feelings themselves. So that left her where?  What did she feel for him now? Attraction? Yes. Physical desire? Yes, definitely.

Taking in her discomfiture at his avowal, Angel’s eyes seemed to suddenly impale her with their sharp gaze. "Tell me about the spell, Buffy. Why did you do it?" His voice was hushed.

"Don’t start that again." Buffy sighed heavily, refusing to meet his eyes as she reached for the bottle of wine.

"I know you used magic - to what? Break the bond between us?"  He asked quietly, his eyes restive and moody. "Why Buffy? Why did you do it?"

He sounds so certain. How does he know? Buffy finally looked up at him, having refilled her glass. She shook her head slowly, toying with the crumbs remaining on her plate. "It doesn’t matter Angel. Just let it go."

"Buffy, please, talk to me." He fervently murmured, "Tell me why."

"Why are you so sure about magic?" She asked quietly, her large hazel green eyes dominating her face as she looked up at him.

His eyes scanned her neck in lazy perusal and she lifted her hand to the missing mark almost unconsciously, hiding it – or rather the lack of it – from his view. He thought for a moment.

"For one thing, the mark – it’s gone." Angel asserted softly as he reached across the table to take her hand. "I’ve lived a long time Buffy. I’ve seen a lot of things. I can recognize the presence of certain types of magic. And this," He lifted her hand, his eyes staring at hers as he ran his thumb across the vine tattoo on her finger. "is a sign. A talisman."

Buffy tugged on her hand but he refused to release it.

So what, he knows. What did she have to hide anyway? She wasn’t ashamed of what she had done. In fact, quite the contrary. Her life had improved considerably since she’d done the spell. She may have drifted apart from her friends, but it probably would have happened anyway. And Giles… Well, Giles had left her long before the spell… It didn’t matter to her that she didn’t have a significant other in her life. All of her relationships had ended in heartbreak and tears anyway.  No, she was happy now. Well, if not happy then content at least. It was the best she could expect.

"Look, Angel, you have everything you ever wanted in LA. A flourishing business. Money in the bank. Friends. Family. Love. You even have a son, Angel. In short, you have *a normal life.*  I had nothing. I had a crappy job at a burger joint, then another crappy job as a school counselor, a sister I was trying to raise on my own, friends that would send me out to face evil but not trust me to make my own decisions about my life, not to mention tons of bills from months of slayerettes staying at my house eating my food." She paused and took a breath, "No one pays me for slaying night after night. I have no business cards with my name on them, no seer with visions to warn me about the next big bad evil that I’ll have to face. There are no trophies or rewards from apocalypses prevented, no expectations about moving up the ladder in my career, no grand plans about the future ahead of me. There’s no toy surprise, no great reward waiting for me when this is all over."

Buffy took a drink of her wine and soothed her hair. She didn’t blame him for the Shanshu prophecy; quite the contrary – she hoped very much for his sake that he found his redemption and got his reward.

"All I get, Angel, is what you see now. Until one day I die and I’m replaced by the next girl that has to give up her life, her love, maybe even her happiness for something that’s bigger than herself." She finished almost in a fury.

Angel was completely focused on her, the dark brown of his eyes darker with remorse, guilt and something unfathomable and more than a little alarming. His eyes were narrowed under the slant of his brow, a pained slash darkening his features. She didn’t deserve to be so alone, so detached from life, from love.

"So one day you just decided to use magic to close yourself off?" He questioned abruptly, almost angrily. How could she, the girl so full of life, so full of love, have wanted so much to close herself off from it? Buffy had always been emotional, impulsive. Something prompted her to act. "I don’t buy that Buffy. You always believed that your emotions gave you an edge."

"You said you wanted the truth, Angel. I’m telling you the truth." She bluntly replied, then added in a soft whisper, "In all honesty, I was tired of the heartache."

He said nothing, only waited for her to continue.

"Look, after the whole thing with the First Evil… I was going to make things work with Spike, I really was. I mean, he seemed to care about me. And I thought it would be good thing. But then he left-" Buffy broke off abruptly, her fingers gripping the stem of her wine glass tightly. Why was she telling him this?

Spike?!  She did the spell because she was heartbroken over Spike? Or because she wanted Spike and for them to truly bond, his bond would have to be broken... Angel’s heart wrenched in his chest as the implication of his thoughts reverberated though his mind and into his heart.

"You broke our bond because you wanted Spike?" He bit out angrily, his hands now braced flat on the table.

"No. God, no. Of course not. I mean, I really *like* Spike and he was there for me when I needed him. But- it wasn’t love. As in *love* love." Buffy looked up at him with annoyance, as if unable to believe that Angel would even suggest such a thing. "He left after."

Angel shook his head slightly as if trying to clear his thoughts. "You’re not making sense."

"I don’t have to make sense Angel. We’ve already been over this. Besides, may I remind you that I’m not really any of your business any more? You left me, *remember* that?"

"Look, Buffy-"

"Look Angel. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s of the past. No need to dredge it up and muck around in it like-like muck. What’s done is done, okay?"  Standing, she walked around the table to stand next to his chair.  "Why does it matter now anyway?" 

He shifted, turning in his chair to look up at her, and she smiled at him slightly, reaching out to run her hand through the thick mass of his dark hair, gliding her fingers along his cheek.

She studied his expression for a moment before nudging his knees apart with one of her own so she could move to stand between them.

"Look, it really doesn’t matter now." Buffy murmured against his lips, bending down slightly. "And we can still be friends..."

He tasted the wine on her lips as she kissed him and he wondered for the briefest second if she’d had too much to drink. It was, perhaps, another attempt to rationalize his jealous anger when faced with her sexual assertiveness.

"I don’t think so." He whispered softly, reaching out to rest his hands on the warm patch of exposed skin on her waist. His gaze at her was fitful, volatile as he struggled with his feelings; wanting to control the raging desire that rose hot and hard within him at her slightest touch.

"No?" Her palms lay flat on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him sparking a welcome rush of desire. "Why not?"

His brows drew together in a scowl. He didn’t want to be friends. He wanted more than that from her. He pulled her hard against him, his hands going around her back, his fingertips skimming just inside the waist of her sweats.

Silence descended over them while she surveyed the dark beauty of his face, wondering if she could convince him that they could be friends, lovers even if he’d allow it. If he were going to be difficult about it, well, then she would let him walk out the door.  It wasn’t as if she needed him in her life. Wanted him in her bed? Yes. A complicated, messy relationship? No.

"I came here because I don’t want to live without you anymore," Angel said at last.

"See, friends then." Buffy softly replied, her hands moving over his shoulders, stroking the nape of his neck and playing with the short hairs at his nape. Teasingly, she smiled "Lovers?"

"I should probably go."

"But you won’t."  She lifted one knee and glided it along the firm muscles in his outer thigh.

"No." He replied softly, knowing that he would not be denied any part of her that he could have. A grudging displeasure lodged in his mind however because he wanted more than just her body; he wanted her love.

"Good." She smiled as her lips brushed his brow, her fingers caressing his neck. "Because I wasn’t going to let you go just yet."  His hands felt cool on her waist as he pushed her shirt up slightly, feeling the heat of her skin burning into his palms.

He looked at her without speaking, his eyes roving over her. Suddenly he stood and swept her into his arms in one smooth motion.

Carrying her into the bedroom, he sat her on her feet.

Rising up on her toes, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss.

They kissed for long minutes, his lips nipping at hers. She sucked gently on his tongue when he slipped it into her mouth and pressed even closer to him as he slid one hand down her back to her bottom. Squeezing her firm flesh, he adjusted her more tightly against him.

Buffy obligingly helped as he removed her clothing, stopping frequently for kisses as if he could not get enough of the taste of her and running his hands over her as if he could not get enough of the feel of her. When she was finally standing before him nude, all of her beauty revealed to his gaze, he lowered his head and kissed her again, a hot, hungry kiss, and began walking her slowly back to the bed as he interlaced his fingers with hers.

When they reached the bed, Buffy sat down, watching him under her lashes as he undressed. She smiled and reached her arms up to him when he joined her, once more taking her mouth in a hungry, plundering kiss. Changing the slant of his head as he settled between her legs, Angel kissed her deeply, pressing her into more firmly into the bed with his weight. She undulated beneath him, heated and eager, as she trapped his hips firmly between her thighs, running her feet along his legs.

The delicate scent of vanilla rose around them as her skin heated. Buffy clung to him, her tongue boldly exploring his mouth as his hand slid up her waist to capture her breast. He kneaded the firm flesh, squeezing and cupping her breast in his palm gently. At her low whimper, he lifted his head and pressed hot licking kisses along her cheek, sliding down her throat to her collarbone to finally stop at the pebble of her nipple. Buffy dropped her head back, exposing her throat and arching her back. He laved the hard tip of her nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.

His lips and tongue moved over her breasts teasing first one then the other aching tip until both were taut rigid peaks. He used his teeth to bite gently, sending sharp sensations of lust streaking through her. When he drew one crest deeply into his mouth, Buffy whimpered, the small erratic sounds breaking the silence of the quiet room. The low fire that had started within her now burned hot.

As he suckled her breasts, Angel's hands roamed over her in exploration, tracing every dip and curve. The firm muscles of her back, her tiny delicate ribs, the flatness of her abdomen, the strong muscles of her thighs, her arms, the delicate arch of her feet, her bottom - no part of her escaped his attention, his touch.

"Kiss me." Returning his lips to hers, Angel brushed his lips across hers as he smoothed her hair back from her face with one hand. Buffy responded immediately, parting her lips and meeting his. He kissed her with soft playful kisses as his chest brushed across her sensitized nipples.

Buffy sank her fingers into his hair, toying with the thick mass before sliding her nails along his nape in a gentle, scraping caress. With flat palms she traced the corded muscles of his shoulders, moving down his arms and stopping to squeeze the flexed muscles of his biceps as he leaned over her. When she felt the velvety hard tip of his shaft brush her thigh, she lifted her hips in invitation. When he finally slid inside her, sheathing himself fully, her arms went around his back to pull him closer. She relished the sensation of her breasts pressed against the cool, hard muscles of his chest. Planting hot wet kisses on his neck, she lifted her chin, her lips searching for his as her kisses grew more feverish and demanding; the wild rush of pleasure shooting through her.

Angel's only response was to kiss her deeply while continuing to move inside her slowly, deliberately, his hands stroking her hips, cupping her bottom and lifting her to meet each thrust. Again he was seized with that familiar sense of possession. Buffy was his and his alone, he licentiously reflected, and he was keeping her this time.

She whimpered, enthralled by the feel of his hardness sliding slick and deep within her. Lifting her legs, she locked her ankles over his lower back, allowing him to thrust into her deeper bringing them ever closer to that pinnacle of pleasure.

They panted and groaned, each soft sound adding to the growing sense of urgency until they both finally exploded. When the first starburst hit her, Buffy keened softly and clutched him close, lost in the heart-stopping glorious sensations of orgasm. Her world at the moment consisted of nothing more than feeling - Angel, his body, under her hands, the scalding heat within her.

Angel released a guttural groan as he joined Buffy in climax, his release so profound that he could not remember having felt such unrestrained, heated desire. He sighed heavily as the spiraling threads ecstasy radiated throughout his body.

As the heated waves of passion slowly ebbed, Angel sighed and looked at the clock. He had to leave or risk being caught by the dawn on his drive to LA. Kissing her lightly on the head, he uncurled his arm from beneath her and rose.

When he turned back to the bed fully dressed, he sighed, looking down at Buffy as she lay on her side amidst the rumpled sheets in languid repose, her elbow resting on the bed, her head propped up on her hand.

"We have to talk about this… about us." Angel murmured in a hushed whisper.

"Angel… It doesn’t have to be about anything." Buffy smiled up at him. She was sated, her senses replete. It was better than anything she’d felt in years – and when he left her again, as he eventually would, there would be no gut wrenching, heartbreaking, tear-you-apart-inside pain.  "Come see me when you can." 

"I don’t like the casual sound of that." His voice was curt even as he lifted a tendril of her hair and let is slide through his fingers.

"I’m sorry, lover. Don’t misunderstand me." Buffy sat up and grasped his hand, squeezing it slightly and pressing it to her cheek. "I just meant I’d be glad to see you any time. You’re always welcome here." 

After the years that they had spent apart, he couldn’t stand the thought of having her casually leave his life again.  And for a man who had left her to find exactly that, he found he couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching her again. Ever.  He exhaled softly exhaled. "I don’t want that. I want more." 

Bending low, he kissed her gently on the lips. "I’ll see you in a couple of days. I have to take care of some things, then I’ll be back."  Pressing a last soft kiss to her lips, then one to her cheek, he smiled slightly. "I’ll call you later."

Angel slowed the GTX as he neared the Hyperion, noting a movement in the shadows just to the left of the hotel. Cutting the lights on the car, he eased the car into a spot along the curb and braked to a halt. He sat motionless for several minutes, his eyes scanning the hotel and the surrounding area. The neighborhood was a mix of run-down and restored buildings, many of which were vacant, a collection of parked cars, some of which had been abandoned long ago, and darkened streets. After five years Angel knew each building, each winding alleyway and most of the local residents by sight. At least those residents that tended to roam the vicinity under the moonlight with other creatures of the night.

Like a predator his eyes inspected the area, methodically reassessing each section before moving on to the next. Patience, he’d learned over the years, could be the difference between living and dying.  Headlights shone along the side of the building, then Cordelia’s jeep came into view.  She turned left, away from him. He watched until the taillights disappeared from view before he opened his car door. Moving into the deepest shadows, he stealthily made his way into the hotel.

Crossing the marble floor of the lobby quietly, he paused at the counter to pick up his messages before heading up the stairs. He stopped first by Connor’s room, unlocking the door and opening it a narrow half-inch before peering inside. Connor lay on a blanket on the floor, his head resting on a stack of books topped off with a pillow and baby Amelia gurgling happily on his chest. He pushed the door open further, his gaze drifting over the occupants, a single lamp the only light in the room.

Fred was curled up on Connor’s bed, having falling into an exhausted sleep after feeding the baby a short while ago. Too frightened to stay in their rooms alone, she had crept quietly to Connor’s room with Amelia just after her husband had left to investigate a sighting of a suspicious creature just off Crenshaw.

"Everything okay?" Angel asked in a hushed whisper, a small smile curving his lips as Amelia giggled when Connor bounced her gently. He was genuinely surprised to see anyone else in the room beside his son.

"Yeah." Connor replied quietly with a small shrug, lifting a leg to show off his still attached ankle chain.

Gunn had clearly taken his instructions to keep Connor locked up very seriously. Although, he probably would have been disappointed to know that his own wife, despite his warning to keep her distance, had kept the young man company for the better part of the night, not to mention had passed their daughter into his arms without hesitation when he asked to hold her. At the moment, Gunn trusted neither Connor nor Cordelia.

"Where’s Gunn?" Angel asked with a trace of alarm in his voice.

"Checking out some demon sighting or something. Got a call a little while ago." Connor replied calmly, shifting his position slightly on the floor and adjusting Amelia on his lap.

Slightly vexed as to what to do, Angel considered whether he should talk to Connor now or wait until later, when Cordelia returned to the hotel.

"Get some sleep." Connor said, as if understanding Angel’s dilemma. He made a face at Amelia then smiled when she let out what sounded like a hiccup and looked like a smile. His eyes returned again to his father’s face.  "We can talk later."

After a few minutes, Angel nodded. "Gunn will worry if they’re not in their room when he gets back."

"I know." Connor agreed quietly, glancing toward Fred’s sleeping figure. "He didn’t want her here but she said she was afraid to stay alone. And then…well, she just fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her." He shrugged slightly as his voice trailed off.

Debating the various reasons why Fred might be afraid to stay alone in the room she’d lived in with Gunn for the last few years and coming up with an answer that he didn’t like, Angel’s eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together in irritation.

Sighing, Angel stepped into the room and gently lifted the still sleeping Fred into his arms. He carried her down the hall to her room, then returned and retrieved the finally drowsy Amelia.  As he laid the small baby down in her crib, the crib that had once been Connor’s, he glanced down at her affectionately. Her presence in the hotel, in his life touched him profoundly. It made him feel that much more connected to humanity, that much more closer to redemption yet at the same time that much farther away from it all. 

He smiled slightly as Amelia let out a sleepy gurgle, then soothed her hair and tucked her blanket around her a little more snugly. For a moment he was reminded of Connor as a baby, not so many years ago and yet a lifetime now. Holtz had robbed them both of so much. He’d scarcely dared to believe that he would have the chance to be a father – then to have Connor practically ripped out of his arms. They had both been cheated out of so much… it hardly seemed fair, but then, that was his life. He expected no less – it was all part of the price he had to pay for his atonement, his redemption.

What would Buffy’s child look like? What would their child look like? The thought seemingly came out of nowhere and slammed him in the gut, reminding him again of what he could not have. What he would not know. It was another price to be paid for his weakness as Liam, for the late night skirt chasing drunken stroll in the alleyway that had cost him his humanity.

Had that not happened, you wouldn’t have been here to meet the Slayer, you fool. Angel shrugged almost imperceptibly at the thought, adjusting the baby’s stuffed animals around her in the crib. No, he would have found her. Somehow, someway, no matter the time or distance. They were meant to be. If only he could offer her more than demons and darkness…

Forcefully pushing aside his disappointment, Angel quietly left the room, closing the door firmly behind him and locking it with the master key. He passed by Connor’s room once more and said good night, then made his way down the hall.

As Angel crossed into his own suite of rooms, his attention turned to the tasks ahead. First and foremost he wanted to see Nikkos, but that would have to wait until after sundown. In the meantime, he needed to deal with Cordelia and Connor.

He wasn’t looking forward to what he knew would prove to be an angry and difficult confrontation with the seer after the things that Connor had told him. When originally faced with the evidence of her treachery, he had first believed that it had been limited to his personal interest in the Slayer. That her jealously of Buffy had been the initial catalyst for her lies, lies that were further fueled by her own insecurities and vanity and later his own complacent slip into a relationship with her.

In no way did any of that excuse the fact that she had clearly turned into a murderer. If not by her own hand, then certainly her creation of the ‘Slayer Elimination Tournament’ classified her as one without debate. Not only did she seek to murder Buffy but she also had set up his own son to take the fall for her. Admittedly, he was skeptical of the degree of Connor’s innocence in the scheme but he didn’t doubt that the seer was the mastermind behind it all.

And if Connor were to be believed, her duplicity extended far beyond just driving a wedge between he and Buffy. She was quite likely responsible for the injury and death of more people that he knew, for Kate’s coma. Wesley.

He stripped off his clothing in the dark, his mind turning over the things that Connor had told him on the phone: the toxic I’lera demon that had slunk into Atlas Toys down on Vine; the vampire nest that Kate and her team had tried to take out on their own – both visions that Cordelia had but chose not to share for reasons he had yet to understand. He closed his eyes against the persistent guilt that swept over him, that ate at him, not allowing him to forget that in both cases he should have been there. He should have done something, anything to prevent what had happened.

The I’lera demon had left nearly a dozen children badly injured with chemical burns. Two of them died later and several of them were horribly scarred and had to undergo reconstructive surgery. Four children had never been found and the I’lera had escaped into the sewers. It slunk into a pre-school two days later, which fortunately had been closed for the day so the I’lera was denied any additional prey. He and Gunn had tracked the demon for three more days before they were finally able to trap it just on the edge of Sylmar park and destroy it.

As he started the shower, he recalled that night that the I’lera demon attacked clearly in his mind. It had been the night of Mr. Nabbitt’s Christmas party. Cordelia had wanted to go, but he had not. She was breathing erratically when she came down the stairs, anxious to go but he had made her sit for a few minutes, worried about her health. She adamantly shook him off, muttering something about "Not tonight. Nuh-uh, no way, forget it. I want fun. I need fun. And no way is that happening in my new shoes."  The words that made no sense to him at the time now chilled him when he thought that she had likely foreseen the demon, but had chosen not to tell him or anyone else at AI about it simply because she was more interested in her own fun and not despoiling new shoes.

Stepping into the shower, he attempted to shake off the memories in the relaxing heat of the water, but the other things that Connor had told him refused to go away. They clung to his mind like tentacles, wrapping around his thoughts and stubbornly demanding attention.

Was Connor telling the truth when he said that he had overheard a call from someone named Kate Lockley, and that she had pleaded for help to take out a vicious and brutal group of vampires but Cordelia never bothered to pass along the message?  

He heard the events of that night second hand through another detective on the force, Vic Mackey. Kate and her team had been brutally mauled, two of them had died and Kate herself had been left in a coma. That had been just over four months ago now. They still didn’t know yet whether or not she would recover.

Shaking the soap and water out of his eyes, Angel rinsed quickly before switching off the water and reaching for a towel.  After drying off, he pulled on his black sweats and a t-shirt then padded across the room to the bed. He sat heavily down on the thick mattress and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

The reason he was in LA was redemption. It was about helping people find their way, about protecting them and others in the process. He’d thought once that he was succeeding, or at the very least making progress. Now he wondered if he were helping at all. For every person that he had helped or every good deed that he had done, his seer had quite possibly offset that with an inflicted harm or evil deed.

His eyes focused suddenly on the small scraps of paper resting on the night table near the bed. As recognition of the object dawned, he growled deep in his chest, angrily, unknowingly. The picture that he had left there of Buffy had been ripped into tiny bits. His eyes flickered with gold highlights as he stood abruptly and strode through his suite of rooms and out into the hall. It was the last straw. Yanking open the door to Cordelia’s room, he glanced inside. It was still and quiet.

Logically he’d known that she’d left the hotel earlier, but there was the slightest possibility that she had returned and he hadn’t heard her. Impetuously he grabbed one of her precious Lladro figurines off the nearby shelf and hurled it at the wall. It crashed and shattered into pieces, the sound nowhere near appeasing the rage that was boiling just under the surface. He grabbed a second and a third figure, tossing them just as hard and watching them explode into tiny bits from the force of his throw.  He stood deathly still for a long moment, his tongue raking across his teeth and testing the sharpness of the fangs that had appeared along with his demon visage. After another moment, he turned and left the room slamming the door hard behind him.

Unable to sleep, Angel wandered to the kitchen and opened a bag of blood. He hadn’t fed in Sunnydale, and if nothing else, it would kill some time. Walking back into his bedroom, he stopped and stared at the trunk along the wall. After a brief pause, he opened it and searched through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Carefully he drew out a leather bound journal. It was a Watchers Journal of Wesley’s that had been delivered to the hotel along with a box of his other belongings not long after his death, 2 years ago now.

Angel wasn’t sure why he kept the weathered journal, given that his relationship with the former Watcher had never been repaired after Wes had stolen Connor and given him to Holtz. Rather, when the package had arrived one day from Wes’s former landlord, Angel had simply opened it and, after realizing what it was, he extracted the journal and tucked it into the trunk with his other keepsakes. Cordelia has been out shopping that day; when she returned she shipped the rest of the items off to goodwill without a backward glance.

He smiled slightly as he turned the book over in his hands. When Wesley had first shown up in LA as a "Rogue Demon Hunter" Angel had almost laughed. But in the following years, the prissy watcher had proven himself to be smart, persistent and extremely determined in his chosen craft.

With a twinge of regret, Angel opened the journal and flipped through the entries. The first few notations were about Wes’s last days in Sunnydale, about the Mayor’s demise and the ‘impertinent but remarkable’ Slayer, Buffy. Wesley had written with meticulous detail every conversation, every meaning and every possible strategy that had been discussed or considered.

Angel chuckled at Wes’s description of Buffy, but sobered slightly as he read the former Watcher’s point of view about ‘the vampire’s’ illness when Faith had shot him with the poisoned arrow along with Buffy’s unwavering determination to save him. The council’s refusal to help had led to her decision to quit the council, a decision that Giles apparently supported much to Wes’s dismay.  He’d known, of course, that she’d broken off with the council around that time but he had believed that it had been because of a difference in opinion on their strategy to deal with the Mayor’s ascension… Here was another showing of her steadfast support, of her love. He grimaced at the reminder, vowing that he would one day make up for the lack of devotion he had shown her in return.

Flipping forward a few pages, he scanned various notes about some early cases that they had worked on together, about the Scrolls of Aberjaan… his possible Shanshu.  He skipped ahead, not wanting to read the details, unwilling to get his hopes up just yet for something that may or may not come to pass.

Several pages later he was surprised when he came across a rather personal entry regarding Faith. Apparently Wesley had begun to visit Faith in jail some years after she had been imprisoned. He had never gotten over his feelings of responsibility for her and he deeply regretted the way things had turned out for her in Sunnydale. With renewed purpose, he had gone to see her, determined to help her any way he could.  After several months of visits, he admitted that he thought himself to be in love with her, and that perhaps she was on her way to feeling the same for him, which both surprised him and scared him. 

Farther along in the entry, Buffy’s name caught Angel’s eye. Faith had confessed to switching bodies with Buffy before showing up in LA with the intent to kill her ex. Her purpose was twofold: to hurt Buffy and to strike back at Angel for his rejection of her. Certainly when Angel greeted Buffy with a less than friendly welcome, Faith had been pleased and when he had slapped her, pleased quickly became ecstatic. If all else in her plans had failed, at least she had managed to ensure that "B." got hurt badly by the one person that could do the most damage to the blonde Slayer: Angel. She couldn’t have planned it any better. Later, though, Faith admitted that she regretted what she had done. Despite their differences, Buffy had tried to be her friend, to help her and she had pushed her away out of jealousy and anger.

Angel reclined on the bed, propping one elbow on the bed and resting his head on his hand as he continued to read. Wesley had written extensively about Connor, his research on the prophecy that indicated that had led him to believe that Angel would kill his own son… leading to his misguided decision to entrust the infant into Holtz’s hands.

In the margin of one page, Wes had written the question "CC selling to W&H?". There was nothing else, so Angel wasn’t sure what he meant.

Two hours past as he read, until he reached what appeared to be the last entry in the thick volume. Cordelia had called Wesley, claiming to have had another vision. In Wes’s words she sounded ‘desperate and afraid’ on the phone, reporting the rise of a new evil power somewhere in the area of Los Angeles just south of Venice. The demon in her vision was ruthless and strong; and would kill Angel should the vampire attempt to take him out. She’d seen it all with explicit detail in her vision.

Initially Wes was unconcerned. Given that he and Angel had never reconciled why should he care whether the vampire lived or died? But Cordelia pleaded with him to do this for her, for the love that she thought that they had shared once, for their friendship, and because it would prove to Angel once and for all that Wesley bore him no ill will despite everything that had happened between them. She then promised that she would continue her efforts to convince Angel to at least speak with him again. She said that she had done everything she could, but the vampire stubbornly refused to even hear the name "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce" spoken at the Hyperion. She was sure, however, that with a little more time she’d be able to change that.

Angel closed the book firmly.

Wesley had died that night. In a last desperate attempt to take out the demon, he had blown them both to bits. When the news of his death made it back to AI, Cordelia had sniffed disdainfully, claiming that Wesley’s own pride had caused his death. He should have called them for obviously needed backup, but his stubborn pride had prevented him from asking for help. Other that than, she had only mentioned Wesley’s name to disparage him or condemn him for what she considered his constant stream of betrayals; first Connor, then his relationship with Lilah, and then later with Faith. At no time had she ever tried to help patch up a relationship between the two men…

Here was proof of more of her lies. For reasons known only to her, she had lied to them both and kept them from perhaps settling their differences. And now Wesley was dead and they would not have the chance.

For the next several hours, Angel paced restlessly around the hotel, too keyed up to sleep yet trapped inside by the sunlight. Cordelia had not returned to the hotel and the delay in the confrontation with her was playing heavily on his nerves.

He had released Connor earlier and they had had a brief talk. They still had a lot of work to do to build any sort of relationship between them, but it started with trust. He told Connor that he would believe what he had told him about the seer; but he also warned him that this was his last chance. Angel would stand for no more lies, no more duplicity, no more half-truths. Any thing less than an open and honest relationship between them from here on out would ensure that they would have no relationship.

It was now mid-afternoon and Connor and Fred were sitting on the floor in the hotel lobby playing quietly with Amelia and occasionally casting glances at the obviously tense vampire roving about with barely controlled anger.

When the door rattled and swung open, all three pairs of eyes swiveled toward it apprehensively.

Gunn, covered in patches of mud with his clothes ripped in several places, held out his hands and grinned as he stepped through the door. "Well honey, I’m home."

Fred breathed a sigh of relief and came to her feet, sweeping Amelia into her arms and rushing toward her husband. She hugged him despite the filth, relieved to have him returned safely.

"Uh, I guess I missed something here." Gunn replied solemnly, taking in the worried expressions, the tense atmosphere.

"I’ll fill you in later. Where have you been?" Fred asked worriedly, still clinging to his side. 

With a laugh, Gunn explained that the early morning call had been a false alarm. A large and rather mangy abandoned dog had been the mysterious ‘creature’ that had been sighted. Feeling rather sorry for the forlorn and obviously abused creature, Gunn had spent several hours trying to catch it before he succeeded, then a few more hours finding a rescue center that would take the animal in and take care of him until they could find him a home. 

He said he called and left a message, but apparently none of them had thought to check the machine.

When he mentioned the phone call, Fred’s head shot up. In the edgy silence of the morning, the message had completely slipped her mind. Setting Amelia back down on the floor next to Connor, she rushed over to her desk and rummaged through several case files before she found what she was looking for. With a blushing smile, she handed the pad of paper to Angel.

"Sorry. You left that out one day and I didn’t think that- that well, that-" The young mother stammered as Angel looked down at the paper with the drawing of Buffy clearly visible on the top. Next to the sketch was a phone number along with the name "Rupert Giles" in Fred’s neat handwriting. She looked down as she finished. "I just didn’t leave it out."

"Thanks." Angel took the offered pad of paper from her hand and glanced down at the drawings.

"Mr. Giles has called several times. I told him you’ve been out…but have you even gotten his messages? If not, then-then I think Cordelia may have been taking them." Fred added nervously as Angel looked at the sketches with a trace of surprise. He hadn’t realized that he’d drawn them, but obviously they were his.

Gunn glanced over Angel’s shoulder curiously, studying the girl’s image. After a moment, he tapped his finger on the paper. "Damn. She looks really familiar. I’d swear I know her from somewhere."

"Buffy?" Angel questioned, his eyes looking up from the drawing to Gunn’s face. His eyes flashed with anger at Fred’s words that Cordelia had been stealing his messages.

"That’s your girl, huh?" Gunn studied the drawing again, searching his memory. After a minute he shrugged dismissively. "Must just recognize her from the picture in your room then."

"So…" Gunn continued, taking in the relatively companionable group, not to mention Connor’s freedom. "What else did I miss?"

Angel sighed heavily. He’d need to explain some things to Fred and Gunn, but first he wanted to call Giles.

"I’ll explain later. Right now, just stick together. I don’t want anyone to confront Cordelia alone."  He met each of their eyes with his own, their deep brown depths effectively conveying the seriousness of his request. 

They all trooped up the stairs together, then Fred, Gunn and Connor, carrying Amelia, turned to Fred and Gunn’s suite of rooms and Angel turned right, going to his own. Gunn was going to shower and change, so they agreed that the others would hang in their living room and watch TV while Angel made his call.

Angel checked the time as he picked up the phone, noting that it would be almost 11 pm in London. He hesitated briefly as he dialed, thinking of Giles’s illness, the late hour and his likely need for rest.  Should he wait?

The ringing of tones as the line connected answered his question. He had completed dialing almost automatically.

A woman’s voice sounded on the other end, answering with a cheery hello.

Angel cleared his throat and asked for Giles. He gave his name when she asked them waited patiently.

When Giles finally picked up the phone, Angel was relieved to hear that he sounded the same, if not better, than he had in LA. At least the former Watcher’s illness didn’t appear to be any worse.

"Giles? It’s Angel." 

Angel waited as Giles acknowledged his greeting then offered his apologies for not returning his call earlier.  They talked for a few minutes about Giles’s health and his return trip to London, then abruptly the former Watcher switched the topic to the real reason why he had been calling.

The sun had just slipped below the horizon when Angel pulled on his coat and grabbed his car keys. Cordelia had not returned to the hotel, but his impatience to talk with Nikkos was not going to allow him to wait for her.

Amidst protests, he ushered Fred, Gunn, Connor and Amelia out of the hotel, shoving a wad of bills into Gunn’s hand along with the instructions for them to have a nice dinner and to get a hotel somewhere else in the city tonight. He didn’t trust Cordelia at the moment and he didn’t want to put them at risk, especially when he’d heard about her veiled threats to Amelia.

He waited until they drove off, then went to his own car and headed a few blocks away.

The chime on the door sounded when Angel pushed it open and entered Magos Exousia. The small shop was actually quite busy for the time of the evening, several patrons milling about, browsing and collecting their various books and supplies.

"Angel! My man!" Nikkos greeted him cheerfully, coming around the small counter and extending his hand. He pulled Angel into a half hug, clapping him heartily on the back. "Good to see you. It’s been a long time."

"Too long."  Angel replied as he stepped back from the smaller man, glancing again at the other people wandering around the small shop. He had hoped to be able to talk to Nikkos alone, but no matter. All he needed was information.

"How’s the P.I. business these days?" Nikkos asked earnestly, leaning against the counter and nodding at the small, wrinkled and bespectacled little man that stopped next to them, peering intently at the object in the counter display case. 

"Fine. Busy." Angel acknowledged, watching the little man next to them. The object that the man was staring at was a mummy’s hand. Written on a placard that was placed in front of the hand was a note that simply read, "Must be special ordered. Display not for sale." 

Briefly Angel wondered why mummy’s hands would need to be special ordered, but then dismissed the abstract thought as unimportant. Assured that the man was harmless, Angel spoke again. "I need some information."

The man touched Nikkos on the sleeve and pointed at the hand.

"Mummy’s hands are special orders. Takes 3-6 weeks."  Nikkos replied to the mans’ questioning look.

The little man nodded resolutely, then moved away, drawing a small piece of paper out of his pocket and squinting at it determinedly.

"I take a month off and the first day I’m back everyone comes in wanting something. If I’d have been this busy before the holidays I could retired and stayed in Greece."  Nikkos joked as he moved behind the counter to ring up a sale from a young girl with cropped, dyed pink hair and piercings through her eyebrow, nose, belly button and most likely a nipple from the outline of the hoop evident through her thin t-shirt that read "I like boys. They’re stupid."  She glanced at Angel, now leaning against the wall nearby, forcing Nikkos to repeat the amount due twice in order to get her attention. She cast an irritated glance at the shop owner, paid for her various herbs, then flashed a flirty smile at Angel as she turned to leave.

Angel scarcely noticed her, his thoughts preoccupied, which Nikkos found amusing. He turned his attention back to his friend.

"So, what can I do you for?" He asked, a wry grin on his face.

"I need to know everything you can tell me about a magic spell."

"Then you’ve come to the right place. Spells I know. What kind of spell are we talking?"

"Love spell maybe, or the opposite of a love spell. Something to freeze your heart, your emotions. Something to break a bond… I don’t know exactly." Angel said, considering the possible ways to describe what Buffy might have done.

"I see. Problems at home?" Nikkos mouth twitched into a half smile.

Angel’s gaze swiveled to Nikkos abruptly. "No." He replied with exasperation. "There was a girl in here. Probably three years ago. Beautiful. Blonde. About this tall," holding up his hand, he indicated Buffy’s height, his tone taking on one of reverence for the subject.

"Three years?  Beautiful? Um, nope. Not ringing a bell. And that sounds like one hell of a love spell. I’ve heard of lust spells like that before… a really good glamour perhaps." Grinning, Nikkos studied the vampire’s expression, finding his tone and manner interesting. Leaning an elbow on the counter, he prompted. "What else can you tell me about her? Might jog my memory a bit."

"Big hazel green eyes, full lips with a smile that can light up the room." Angel closed his eyes, Buffy’s image coming into vivid view in his memory. "Glorious golden hair, soft and thick, creamy skin, so warm and smooth… like velvet. She’s slender yet perfectly form-" His eyes snapped open suddenly as he realized what he was saying. If he could have blushed he would have. He sounded like an adolescent schoolboy.

"Sounds like an absolute vision. Got a picture?" Nikkos asked as he turned to the young woman approaching the counter in a charcoal gray business suit. She sat two books on the counter, then asked him about various software packages and Internet resources. Nikkos answered her questions politely, stopping twice to extract cards from a file behind the counter containing information for additional contacts she might be interested in then rang up her purchases. She paid and left, studying one of the books she had bought intently on the way out.

"These techno-pagans are taking over the art, I swear." Nikkos shook his head ruefully. "I tell you the days of the cauldron are numbered, my friend."  Lifted his brows in question to Angel. "So, picture?"

"Sorry, no picture." Angel grimaced, mentally kicking himself for not taking one from the hotel. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier?  Although with Cordelia’s penchant for shredding them, they were becoming scarce. That reality combined with the fact that she had insisted that he take the picture of Buffy out of his wallet years ago – part of her whole moving on plan – further added to his anger and agitation. He cursed softly.

"So this beautiful blonde with the hazel green eyes and creamy warm velvety skin…" Nikkos asked with a grin. He’d known almost from the moment Angel spoke who he was asking about, he just wanted to hear what the vampire had to say first. "Would her name be Buffy, by any chance? As in Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer?"

"Yes. You remember her then?"  Angel’s head shot up, his eyes seeking Nikko’s for confirmation. His muscles tensed in expectation of Nikkos’s response, even as he felt a spark of irritation at the warlock’s obvious game with him. "She was in here a few years ago and bought some sort of spell book, something that she used to ‘freeze’ her emotions. Lock them out somehow."

"A spell like that can’t just be done by just buying a book and saying a few words and burning a some herbs. That’s a very powerful and very difficult spell." Nikkos declared indignantly. "Only a skilled practitioner can cast a spell like that successfully. It can be quite dangerous, that one."

Angel stared at the smaller man with a piercing intensity, studying his face, his body language. His eyes widened as the implication of Nikkos’s statement struck him and his gaze took on a sudden intensity. Reaching across the counter, he grabbed the warlock by the shirt and yanked him forcefully forward into the counter between them, causing the objects in the display case to rattle and the pencil cup on top of the case to tip over, sending the pens, pencils and other things spilling out onto the counter and off to the floor.

"You!" Angel growled angrily, his eyes flashing with bits of gold. "You did it. You cast the spell on her."

"Hey, let go of the shirt." Nikkos stared back, unflinching, his pale blue eyes showing no signs of fear. "This is custom made Italian and I don’t appreciate the handling of it in such a manner. Nor am I able to think of anything you might be interested in knowing with you staring in my face and not breathing on me."

Angel hesitated a moment longer then let him go, releasing his grip and stepping back slightly to force himself to calm. Whatever Nikkos had done, he could undo.

"I’m not saying I did." Smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt, Nikkos replied quietly as he smiled and waved at the two women that were openly staring at them after hearing the altercation. The women were new age type wiccas, as evidenced by their long, floating skirts and diaphanous tops, the masses of necklaces practically concealing their necks and chests and a multitude of bracelets around each wrist. The frowned at the two men and whispered quietly to each other, casting an occasional glance over their shoulders.

Nikkos turned his eyes back to the tense vampire and continued flatly, "And I’m not saying I didn’t. What’s it to you anyway? You got your girl now, your true love."

Angel only snorted in reply, his eyes dark with anger.

"How is Cordelia anyway?" Nikkos asked amiably, his voice touched with a hint of remonstrance. He collected the pencils from the counter and put them back in the righted cup.

"She’s-" Angel stopped abruptly. What could he say? Oh, Cordelia? She’s evil. She’s a backstabbing, vicious, murdering shrew. Didn’t you know?  Taking the route least fraught with difficulty, the vampire replied tersely. "We’re not together anymore."

"Ah…" Nikkos noted with faintly raised eyebrows, stepping around the counter to help the two women reach something off a higher shelf. He chatted with them for a moment, chuckling slightly as he returned to his position behind the counter. "New agers. It’s all crystals and stones, sweetness and light. Get out a book on the darker stuff, the more interesting stuff and they’d run screaming."

Angel looked at the two women briefly then returned his attention back to Nikkos. "Tell me-"

"You know, I have to say… Buffy just doesn’t seem to be your type." Nikkos interrupted, his eyes shrewdly assessing the vampire once again. It was as if he were looking for something.

"Type?" Angel echoed gruffly, working hard to control his rage.

"All feisty with that bright eyed naiveté, the youthful energy and exuberance. Unselfish. Unaware of just how beautiful she is…" Nikkos continued with a flash of a smile. "Willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good… for her duty… for love."

Angel knew that somehow Nikkos knew about his history with Buffy, the things that they had been through, the things that she had given up, that they had both given up. He paced in front of the counter, restlessly, affected by the truth of the warlock’s assessment of Buffy.

"The way I saw it, I was doing you a favor." Nikkos continued genially, "Everyone knew how hung up you were over Darla and then, of course, Cordelia with that whole true love, destiny, fate, kye’rumption bullshit." Pausing, he exaggeratedly covered his mouth as if he surprised himself; as if he had accidentally revealed a secret that he had meant to keep.  Shrugging he picked up a box behind the counter and opened it, stacking the books on the counter.  "Can’t say I care for your type but each to his own, man. Certainly they’re sharp looking babes but all-in-all real bitches."

Angel picked up a small wand from the floor, one of the objects that had tumbled out of the knocked over pencil case. Inside the wand floated shiny metallic hearts and stars. The name Magos Exousia was embossed on the site. He toyed with it briefly as he contemplated Nikkos’s words.

Ignoring Angel’s obvious frustration, Nikkos casually picked up another box and carried it to the nearby shelf. Calmly he placed the books from the box on the shelf then walked back behind the counter. He tossed the box into a pile of empty boxes nearby.

Angel dropped the decorative wand back into the pencil cup and watched as the hearts and stars floated to the bottom.

Turning his attention back to Angel, his gaze direct, he added. "I just knew you didn't want that little doe-eyed sweetheart tugging on your sleeve and crying on your shoulder about her little heartbreak. I did you both a favor, set you both free."

"You know nothing about it. " Angel muttered, his voice a low fierce growl. He faced Nikkos head on now, his hands resting with palms flat on the counter as he leaned slightly forward. His posture was aggressive, threatening.

"No?" Nikkos pleasantly asked, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a box of Altoids. He opened the can and offered one to Angel, who only stared at him. Shrugging slightly, he popped a chalky mint into his mouth and closed the tin. "You sure about that?"

"You stole something that belongs to me." Angel growled angrily, furious now. He slammed his fist down hard on the counter, once more making the objects in the case rattle. His golden eyes glittered and the muscle in his jaw clenched as he fought to control his demon visage.

Behind him, the two new age wiccas that had been loitering about and watching the men covertly dropped their intended purchases and fled from the store. 

"Yeah, what’s that? The girl?"  Nikkos shrugged dismissively. "From where I’m sittin’ she didn’t belong to you. You left her. Did you forget that part?  How about the part where you said you were in love with a new girl? Ring any bells?"

"It’s trespassing – you *never* break a bond between a vampire and his mate." Angel snarled in reply, ignoring the questions that he didn’t feel were relevant.

"Really? Thought the bond thing only applies to vampire/vampire or vampire/demon mates..."  Nikkos replied cheerfully, reaching to take a sip of tepid tea from a cup that had been sitting forgotten on a stack of boxes behind him. "Hold on, I got a paper on that here somewhere. We can look it up."

Paying no attention to the angry vampire leaning on his counter, Nikkos bent down and rifled through a small filing cabinet full of papers.

"Nikkos, damn it-!" Angel roared, just as the door chime of the shop sounded. He bit off the rest of his sentence as a young Asian boy walked up to the counter. The boy blinked twice at Angel, then waited patiently for the shop proprietor to notice him.

 "You know, I’m pretty sure that vampires never abandon their true mates." Nikkos muttered, his head down and mostly hidden by the counter as he continued to sift through stacks and files of papers.

"Ah! Here we go." He popped up from behind the counter, a paper held up in his hand triumphantly. "Oh, hey there, littlest Chieu." Without losing a beat, the shop proprietor greeted the boy and reached over the counter to ruffle his hair. "How’s your Nana?"

The boy replied in Chinese and held up a small piece of paper.

Angel waited impatiently while Nikkos filled the list of herbs from the boys list. He jotted down the amount on a small tablet that he kept beneath the cash register then handed the bag to the boy. "Tell your Nana I hope she’s better soon." As the boy walked out the door, Nikkos turned back to Angel. "She has horrible osteo-arthritis, poor thing, can’t even get out of her chair some days."

Noting Angel’s grim stare, the warlock turned his attention back to their earlier conversation. He picked the stapled pages form the counter. "Ah, now, where were we? Oh. Here. See – this paper written by… where’s the damn name…" Nikkos muttered, flipping through the pages rapidly and scanning them with his eyes, "Ah! Here we go. Sam Winthorpe, a claimed expert on vampires says right here that vampires don’t abandon their mates, once they take one. For that matter, he says they don’t take human mates either."

Angel blinked at Nikkos unbelievably, but the warlock was seemingly engrossed in the document in his hand.

"Course, he does also say that they absolutely must sleep in coffins and have an unnatural fear of disco music… that might cut into his credibility somewhat. But! It was published on the Internet, so it must be true." Glancing up, he slapped the paper against Angel’s chest facetiously.

Angel grudgingly took the proffered document, scoffed at it with disgust and then tossed it forcefully into the garbage. After a brief pause, he asked quietly. "Why’d you do it, Nikkos? I thought we were friends."

Thinking for a minute, the warlock replied. "You weren’t here, Angel. You didn’t see her. She’s an *angel* and she was so heartbroken, so devastated."

"Why? What happened?"  Angel inquired worriedly, his dark eyes filled with concern.

Nikkos stared back, mentally debating if he wanted to tell the vampire the events that led up to the spell. Sighing heavily, he rubbed hand across his eyes. His eyes met Angel’s again. When he finally spoke, his voice was solemn. "She was here in the store looking for a book. Your friends… they came in, they were talking loudly about you and Cordelia – how perfect, how together, how much in love, and so on and so forth. She heard every word and it broke her heart."

Buffy’s words came back to him then, "Not knowing many Angels – um, people named Angel that is, and not many Angel’s and Cordelia’s that would be mentioned in the same sentence I guessed that maybe it was the same guy." That was when she had seen Lorne. That was how she had known that they were friends. The very day she had broken their bond.

"I found her curled up in the back, sobbing.  I haven’t seen too many people grieve like that." Nikkos continued, his voice grave. "Damn. It just tore me up."

Angel looked away, ashamed for the part that he had played in her heartbreak, her pain. Nikkos didn’t need to elaborate. Angel could tell by the look in his pale blue eyes that Buffy’s pain had truly affected him.

"You tell me you could take one look at her face, at those eyes filled with tears and not want to do what you could to help her out."

It was an opening for Angel to turn the conversation. Everything was too confused for easy answers to anything.  Of course, he would have done anything possible to help her. "Tell me how to break the spell."

"Why?" Nikkos asked bluntly, his eyes once again fixated on Angel’s face.

Angel looked down, shuffling his feet slightly. He took an unneeded inhalation of air. When he spoke his voice was rich with emotion. "I made a mistake. I want her back. I want to make things right with her. I love her."

"You really done with Whordelia then?"

Angel’s head shot up with a jerk, his expression one of surprise.

"Sorry, bad habit." Nikkos apologized, but it was obvious that he didn’t actually mean it. "You know how rumors get started. First someone says something like, oh, she’s banging his son, then you hear that she’s giving it to some lawyer over that the old Wolfram and Hart offices, and then some supposed movie producer in West Hollywood.  Hell, I think I ever heard that she boinked the valet at Barney’s to get better parking. So a few of the guys jokingly called her Whoredelia one day – it stuck. What can I say?"

Angel rubbed a hand over his face. He had no idea. He must be the laughing stock of the demon community. And you just figured that out now… Wow. Look how smart you are. Let me out, I’ll clean up the mess and restore my – er, your – reputation. It’s not going to be pretty, but hey – at this point, it’s necessary, you putz. His demon’s voice echoed through his head dryly, sardonically. For about a half second, Angel seriously considered the merits of having his demon handle the situation before he shook the thought away.

"Could all just be rumor man, I mean, what kind of woman screws the son of the man she’s living with, huh? Just between you, me and the mummy hand here, I’d have to say that’s beyond acceptable bounds of slut behavior. Besides, there’s no way any self-respecting man – or demon - would put up with *that* kind of bullshit. I’d have kicked her to the curb long before now, myself."

Angel nearly flinched at the painful reminder of his complacency. Adding insult to injury, the rumors were most likely all true. What was that about Wolfram and Hart though? Was it the same thing that Wesley had alluded to in his notation? Curiously, he asked, "What did you say, about Wolfram and Hart?"

"I probably shouldn’t say. I mean, its just random gossip." Nikkos reached into the display cabinet and adjusted the spacing of the orbs and stood up a couple of objects that had tumbled over earlier.

"But you’ll tell me." Angel replied. It wasn’t a question.

"The word on the street was that she was selling visions to them, why I don’t know. Maybe she just needed more money for those expensive clothes and shoes and figurines she likes so much." Nikkos shrugged, idly sweeping a hand across the counter and scooping the dust and paper clips into his hand. He dropped the debris in to the trash and then grabbed a towel and wiped his hands.

Angel rubbed his temple. What on earth was he going to do about Cordelia? With her? Why had the Powers not intervened, since they had sent her back here? Given every thing that she had done, the lives that she had cost, did he have a choice other than perhaps to… His mind veered away, unable to say the words "kill her" even though the thought was slowly growing in his mind. Was she beyond redemption? Had her demon nature become so dark, so strong that she was no longer able to control it? Undoubtedly, it would be a decision that he would have to make in the very near future.

Turning his attention back to the immediate task at hand, Angel demanded impatiently, "Tell me how to break the spell."

"In fairy tales it’s always the handsome price that kisses the sleeping beauty. You tried that yet?"

Angel’s brow furrowed, his stance rigid. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned heavily against the counter.

"What? You been around over 200 years and you’ve never read a single fairy tale? How about a Disney movie? Seen any of those?"

Staring at him in frustration, Angel growled roughly, "I did kiss her. Nothing changed."

"Just kissed her…?" Nikkos asked. His smile was so outrageously benign that Angel couldn’t possibly miss his meaning.

"Kissed her. The rest is not any of your business."  Angel replied, casting Nikkos an appraising glance.

Nikkos shrugged, glancing meaningfully toward the vampire. "Well then, if you were human then I’d say then maybe you’re not her true love."

Angel’s head jerked up and his eyes found Nikkos’s with a piercing intensity. The expression on his face was one of near horror. 

"You’ve really tried the whole "loves true kiss" thing? You’re sure?" Nikkos continued to smile, his voice teasing. "Was there tongue involved?"

The scowl on Angel’s face deepened.

Both men glanced at the door when the chime sounded as the little bespectacled man that had been interested in the mummy hand finally left the shop, tucking the list that he had been staring at so intently into his pocket.

"All right, all right." Holding up his hands, palms flat, Nikkos gave in with good grace at Angel’s angry stare. "Look, I’m pretty sure that touch helps – starts melting the ice but the ice will reform when you’re apart. That takes years and a constant amount of touching. Not that I wouldn’t mind with someone like Buffy…"

One of the vampire’s dark brows quirked up warningly, his aura taking on the greenish hue of jealously.

"Hey, I’m just saying it wouldn’t be a hardship, okay?" Nikkos winked with a grin.

His patience slipping away, Angel snarled. "I said I kissed her already. Do you know how to break the spell or don’t you?"

"You’re a vampire. What’s a vampire’s true kiss?" Nikko’s calmly queried, unintimidated by the vampire’s glowering stare and angry voice.

Angel paced back and forth in front of the counter restlessly, thinking over the warlock’s words. Suddenly he stopped and turned back to face Nikkos. A smile curved his lips.

"Whoa, now hold up there… Before you go rushing to Sunny-d to reclaim your mate, you need to know something." Nikkos warned adamantly, waving his hand. The sapphire ring he wore on one hand flashed in the light.

"What?" Angel asked warily.

"All magic requires a balance; a price to be paid."

Angel nodded; he knew that. He remembered the demons that were unleashed when he attempted the spell to open the portal to retrieve Connor. Those demons had almost taken over the hotel, had almost killed Fred…

"Well? What’s the price?" He wanted to know. More than that, he needed to know.

"You know, with that spell… hm… I think if you break the spell, her love for you will be stronger than before. Or maybe, if you break the spell, your love will be stronger…" Nikkos pondered, watching Angel contemplatively. He wanted to know the truth, the depth of the vampire’s feelings for the Slayer.

Angel studied the warlock thoughtfully.

"Or maybe, if you break the spell and you break her heart again, she’ll die. Or is that she’ll die if the spell isn’t broken…." Nikkos continued, tapping his finger on his temple thoughtfully.

"Damn it, Nikkos. Stop screwing around. Which is it?"  Angel yanked him by the front of the shirt, pulling him around the counter and slamming him back into the wall. "Get your damn book and look it up!"

There was a short hostile silence and pale blue eyes met dark golden brown ones.

"No need to get physical." Nikkos uttered as Angel flew back and slammed into the shelf behind him, the magic unleashed from the warlock powerful enough to ensure his release.

Pushing away from the shelf, Angel nodded warily.

Taking out his ladder, Nikkos climbed up to the top and slid back the secret door that hid his personal magic volumes. He perused them calmly while Angel waited restlessly beneath him.

"Hey – did you know, she did me a favor once when you couldn’t be bothered?"  Nikkos replied conversationally, pulling out book after book in search of the particular volume he was seeking.

"What?" Angel glanced up at the man teetering on the ladder and leaning into the hidden alcove. "What are you talking about?"

"I called you – some wise-ass warlock out of Chicago was threatening to take over the shop; sent his nasty demon henchmen in and told me to get out within a week. You know me, I’m not good with the physical fighting thing. So I called you. Your girl said you weren’t available, not then and not any time soon so I called Buffy; she came down and kicked some ass. And, as you see…" Leaning back on the ladder, his arms spread wide, Nikkos grinned and almost fell. "I’m still here."

Angel grimaced at the revelation of yet another thing that he hadn’t taken care of in his own city, for his own friend. For every step forward he had made in his quest for redemption, it seemed that Cordelia ensured that he took at least two backward.

"Ah! Here it is." Nikkos pulled out the heavy book, blowing the dust from the cover with a puff of air.

Angel moved to the bottom of the ladder anxiously. "Well? What is it?"

"Keep your pants on." Nikkos climbed down the ladder and set the book on the counter. He lifted the heavy cover of the book back carefully then coughed slightly from the dust. He cast Angel a brief smirking look, "Wait, I guess it's too late for thiat isn't it?"

"Well?" Angel shot him a dirty look and asked again, impatiently looking from the book back to Nikkos.

"I told you, it’s here. I’ll find it. Just chill out." Nikkos replied genially, flipped through the various pages. "Now there’s something I never thought I would say to a vampire."

Angel closed his eyes, certain that Nikkos was deliberately trying to test his patience.

"Ah, here it is…" Under his breath, Nikkos began to read the lines from the spell that Buffy once spoke as Angel listened quietly:

My heart aches
My soul bleeds
My spirit weeps
Beloved, your vows are all broken
Heart of my heart, you have forgotten me
Soul of my soul, you have deserted me
Blood of my blood, I gave of my life 'til we be done. Soul of my soul, let it be done. Let us be done.

"blah blah blah…"  Nikkos continued reading as his fingertips passed over the heavily scripted words on the page.

It is the great cold of the heart, it is the dark
The woman lives, she passes, she dies.

"Ah. Here we go… love … blah blah… Yes. This is it. The price is loss of love in life… the price is life."

"What does that mean?" Angel asked apprehensively, his expression worried. "Exactly?"

"If love is allowed to return – meaning you break the spell - it will be more powerful than before and therefore dying of a broken heart is a very real consideration. But she’ll die eventually if the spell isn’t broken. You can’t live without love, that’s just life for you."  Nikkos looked up at Angel and sighed. "That or if I’m reading it wrong her misplaced love ends up creating some sort of succubus demon that feeds off lust and love, taking it from others. To break the spell you have to find and kill the succubus. It’s kinda open to interpretation, but I’ll have to go with the first one."

Angel, his palms flat on the counter drops his head. After a long moment of silence he rakes his hand through his hair in frustration.

"You did the spell knowing that those were the possible after effects?"  He finally asked, his voice low.

"Of course." Nikkos affirmed without hesitation.

Angel looked up them, studied Nikkos with a dark expression, his eyes filled with menace. A lesser man would have cowered in fear, but the warlock hardly even blinked.

"Well, she’s the Slayer, Angel. Just how long do you think she’s gonna live anyway?"

"What if you’re wrong?" The vampire questioned, his mind turning over all possible options.

"I think the bigger question here is what if you’re wrong? Let me be perfectly clear with you Angel. If you claim her again now, breaking the spell, then later you decide you didn’t mean it and you break her heart, she’ll die. Can you deal with that?"

"And the succubus?" Angel questioned, his eyes searching Nikko’s face for signs that the warlock was telling him the truth. This was too important to be another of the warlock’s games or jokes.

"No such creature. I needed to know where you stand." Nikkos replied gravely, knowing that this was an important decision. One that the vampire couldn’t make lightly. He had to know the risks.

"Why?" Angel asked bluntly, wanting to know why Nikkos seemed to care so much.

"I take my business very seriously, Angel. If I use magic that powerful on anyone, it’s got to be for a good reason."

Angel waited patiently for Nikkos to continue. 

"The girl that was in my shop crying her eyes out had seen way too much of heartbreak and death. Given that she’s the Slayer too, do you think I wanted to see her live the few years of her short life left with no hope? You know what it’s like to live without hope, without love. Did you want the same for her? Think about that carefully. She doesn’t have the eternal life span that you do to try something else if the no love brooding thing doesn’t work."

"Magic wasn’t the answer." Angel replied with a sigh, absently picking up the magic wand that he had toyed with earlier.

"It wasn’t your decision." Nikkos replied candidly, closing the heavy volume of spells.

Frustrated, Angel turned away. He knew Nikkos was right, but that didn’t mean he agreed. He watched as Nikkos climbed the ladder and returned the heavy volume of magic back to it’s hiding place.

"Does she know – about the risk?" Angel asked quietly, setting the wand on the counter and turning back to Nikkos as he returned to his position behind the counter.

"No. Why tell her?" The warlock was genuinely perplexed by the question. He took another sip of his tepid tea, grimacing this time at the bitter over brewed taste.

"You shouldn’t have hid it from her."

"Yeah? I’m not the one that left her and broke her heart."

Angel turned at the sound of the door chime sounding behind him, interrupting anything he might have said. A sultry redhead in a soft angora pink sweater, with a decorative cat pin on the collar, black pants and high-heeled black boots stood just inside the door. She clutched a black bag in one hand and a jacket in the other.

Nikkos glanced around Angel, his tall form blocking the door, to see who had just entered. He smiled and greeted the slender, beautiful woman. "Hey, Mona."

"Nikkos." Mona glanced warily at Angel as she flipped the sign from open to closed, turned the lock on the door and then approached them with a slow graceful walk.

"Everything all right in here?" She asked, her voice a low throaty purr.

"Fine, love, just fine." Nikkos replied with a small smile, before adding apologetically. "I’m late again, aren’t I?"

"No, honey, you aren’t. I’m early." Mona’s eyes shifted back to Angel, surveying him with casual interest. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was anxious to see you."

"Mona, love," Nikkos smiled indulgently, his eyes drifting over the thick auburn waves of her hair, the voluptuous figure. "This is Angel. Angel, the beautiful Desdemona."

"Nice to meet you." Angel replied, extending his hand to shake hers in greeting. 

Mona’s eyes raked over Angel appreciatively as she held out her hand.  "Mmm, same I’m sure." The throaty contralto voice purred like a lioness. Her lips curved upward in a smile, her eyes gleaming sportively as they traveled up and down the tall vampire.

As Angel released her hand, he was filled with an incredible sense of déjà vu. He would have remembered her, of that he was certain. She was striking. Her lively blue eyes looked strangely familiar…

"Darling, I thought we had dinner plans?" She pouted suggestively, turning her attention back to Nikkos and leaning on the counter. Her hip brushed Angel’s and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Mona, sweets, we do. I was just talking to Angel here."  Nikkos replied, suppressing a grin.

"Always business before pleasure with you, isn’t it?" She teased, glancing at Angel again. She rolled lazily against the counter and looked the vampire into the eye. "And you Angel, sweetie, do you make your girl wait while you take care of business?"

"I did." Angel’s eyes returned Nikkos, his next words intended more for the warlock than to answer the question. "But I won’t any more. That’s changing."

"Uh-huh." Mona replied skeptically, arching one eyebrow in appraisal as her eyes swept up and down his tall form again. "I’ll bet. Something tells me though, that your girl might not mind."

"I’ll be sure to ask her," Angel replied smoothly, "when I see her next. Thanks Nikkos, for the information. I’ll be sure to keep your advice in mind."

Turning back to Mona, Angel nodded slightly. "Nice to meet you."

"’Night Angel. Very nice to meet you." Mona winked lustily at Angel as she turned back to Nikkos.

"Oh, Angel?" Nikkos called just as Angel reached the door. When the vampire turned, Nikkos tossed the magic wand that Angel had been toying with earlier at him. "You'll need this."

Angel caught the object looking at it curiously before shrugging slightly and tucking it in his pocket. He nodded and opened the door, disappearing into the night.

When the door closed firmly behind the vampire, Nikkos turned to his long-time love. "So, Mona, love. How was Sunnydale?"

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