"Secrets & Lies"

Author: Gia
Email: gia@everysixseconds.com
Notes: Angel's comments are somewhat of an hommage to "As Good As It Gets" albeit unintentionally since I've not seen the movie. *g* And just for reference, I've read tons of romance novels in my life so I wouldn't be surprised if there's an occasional similiarity from authors such as Jude Deveraux, Johanna Lindsey, Beatrice Small, Susan Johnson, Stephanie Laurens, Heather Graham and no doubt others that I can't even remember their names. *g*
Curiously enough (so much so that it’s worth noting here) there actually is an "Angelus Funeral Home" in Los Angeles, but I choose not to use this one since it was a little *too* coincidental. Think Angel wouldn’t have opened an envelope of *that* name had he come across it while snooping through Buffy’s things? Exactly…
< > will represent the characters thoughts.

As soon as sun sank low on the horizon, Angel was in his car and on the road to Sunnydale. The roads were fairly free of traffic for the time of the evening, the speedometer on the GTX averaging 105 miles per hour, but the driver noticed neither the traffic nor the speed of his car so intent was he on his thoughts.

Unwilling to risk leaving the Watchers Journal in the hotel, it now sat next to him on the seat almost taunting him. He glanced at it periodically during the drive, but with steadfast determination resisted the urge seek answers to the questions that Cordelia had planted in his mind. He would begin his relationship with Buffy as he intended to continue: by going directly to her with any questions, doubts or even innuendos about anything that involved either of them.

Reaching Sunnydale, Angel parked the car across the street from Buffy’s condo and cut the engine. He glanced at her windows, noting the glow of the kitchen light along the side of the house. The day had passed with interminable slowness as the statement that Cordelia had dropped on him continued to reverberate through his mind. It had taken considerable effort, not to mention tremendous physical exertion, to force his thoughts away from any speculation as to the truth of that statement until now, when he could finally allow himself to consider the possibility…  His body was fatigued, but his nerves were still charged with tension, his mind alive with anxiety. Had she been pregnant?

Exiting the car, he glanced at the darkened windows of Betty’s condo warily. His eyes flitted back to the elderly woman’s home several times as he walked up the path to Buffy’s door, half expecting to see her gray curls pop up behind him at any moment.

When he reached Buffy’s door, he hesitated for almost five seconds before he knocked, listening to the subtle sounds of her moving around inside the house before she padded from the kitchen to the door.

"Angel." She smiled at him when she opened the door, her eyes flaring wide in surprise. Almost self-consciously she ran her hand over her hip, brushing the crumbs from the tan slacks that she wore and smoothing any wrinkles.

He simply stared at her in response for a long moment. She still said his name the exact same way that she always had, part question, part breathy expectation, and it still made his heart squeeze a little in his chest every time.  It was another little thing about her that he had missed, though he hadn’t realized just how much until now.

"Um, you want to come in?"  At the long silent pause from him, Buffy shifted slightly on her feet and cocked her head to one side. She studied his face, his serious expression. What did he want? she wondered, her gaze mesmerized by his powerful image. Had he come back because of her invitation? The thought pleased her, and her smiled widened revealing her perfect white teeth. Inexplicably, she had a desire to affect him in ways that no other woman in his life had ever done.

He finally nodded, the movement of his head slight as he stepped forward. Instinctively, he bent and kissed her gently on the lips in greeting.

"So, you just happened to be in Sunnydale?" She teased, closing the door behind him and brushing past him to return to the kitchen.

Angel mumbled something in response as he followed her, his mind in disarray. Now that he was here, he didn’t have the slightest idea how to begin the conversation.

"Tea?" Buffy asked casually, gesturing toward the small earthenware pot that sat on the table, next to a small stack of papers, a plate of cookies and a mug. She had obviously been doing some work at home when he had arrived.

"No, thanks." He replied with a small shake of his head, the irony of the offered tea not lost on him. They’d done this very same ritual once before; it had been on his mind just last night. If things progressed tonight as they had then, he would seriously consider never having tea with her again, the beverage taking on new significance as a portent of unpleasant events where their relationship was concerned.

"Okay, so no tea." Buffy sat back down in her place at the table, picking up her cup. Glancing at him curiously over the rim, she took a small sip of the steaming liquid. "You want to sit down?"

"Yes. No." Angel answered tersely, his hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him tightly.

"Okay. Which is it?" Buffy’s lips curved upward in a slight smile, wondering if he was even aware of his contradictory answer, as distracted as he seemed to be.

"No." He dropped his hands from the chair in an abrupt restless motion, pacing over to the window.

"So… we’ve established no tea, no sitting."  Tucking her legs up in the chair, Buffy watched him as he braced his hands on the counter and stared moodily out the window into the dark. Absently she rubbed her neck, her dream from last night creeping into her consciousness. Her body warmed slightly as she thought of having sex with him again. Was that why he had come back? If so, then why the restless agitation?

Turning around to face her, his back rigid with tension he started to speak then clamped his mouth shut. He couldn’t seem to find the right words, much less get them out.

"Okay, Angel. You have something face. What’s up?"  She asked quietly, still in tune with his moods after all these years. His expression was almost the same as the one he wore the night he had broken up with her in the sewer; she was somewhat surprised that she remembered it so clearly but it was etched indelibly in her mind. No doubt he was having second thoughts about any relationship with her, purely sexual or otherwise, and had come to break things off. Inwardly she sighed. At least this time there was no accompanying heartbreak. 

Standing she gathered her dishes from the table and moved toward the sink. Unless there was another reason that he had come. What possible apocalypse was threatening now? That had typically been his motive for seeking her out in the past, to warn her of some impending evil. Perhaps some things just never changed.

"Buffy… I have something I have to ask you…" He paused, finding it easier somehow to speak now that she was no longer looking at him, "And I need you to be honest with me."

"Sure." Buffy replied distractedly, rinsing her dishes in the sink.

"Who is Liam Summers?"  He asked, his tone solemn. The question was innocent enough, yet loaded with significance. He knew it was cowardly to ask her with her back turned, but it was easier than staring into those wide green eyes.

The mug that she had been holding clattered in the sink and broke, his question startling her.  Buffy felt his gaze on her back, like a knife between her shoulder blades. Her lungs seized; panic clutching at her as her stomach rolled. She gripped the rim of the counter tightly, staring down at the broken pieces of pottery now strewn in the sink. How had he found out?  Had Giles told him, even though he had promised her that he never would? That it was her place and hers only to do so?

When she felt as if she could breathe again, she slowly turned to face him. It took another deep inhalation of air before she could lift her gaze from the floor.  When her eyes finally met his she felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot.

Fearful of the panic he could see in her eyes, he moved to her side in a few swift strides. "Buffy?" He touched her cheek gently, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.

Buffy struggled to marshal her wits, her explanation, her excuses. His question had taken her completely off guard. She had not been prepared to talk about this now, tonight and not with him. Maybe not ever with him, she corrected. She had thought the time – and opportunity - for this conversation long past.

"How- how-" She stammered awkwardly, her eyes flitting back to his. His nearness was disturbing, his touch even more so. She stepped back from him and felt slightly calmer. Searching her mind for what to say she moved away yet again and sat down at the table.

Angel watched her, finding her reaction unnerving. She appeared to be shocked, almost distraught. His own anxiety and fear spiked upward.

Taking a deep breath she spoke, her voice hushed in the small room. "Did Giles mention … Liam?"  The last part of the question came out an octave lower, almost on a hitched breath.

"No, he didn’t." Looking at her with genuine concern, Angel waited apprehensively.

Buffy’s mind whirled. She thought this day would never come. That she’d never need to tell him, especially since so much time had passed and he had moved on from her. Her eyes closed.

"Buffy?" he asked softly.

"How…" She paused, licking her lips nervously as her fingers curled into her palms, "did you find out?"

Shadows flickered through his eyes as he considered what he should say. Should he tell her the truth? He had vowed to be honest with her… He glanced at the floor, at the counter then back at her face. When he spoke, the single word was pronounced low, his voice restrained. "Cordelia."

A flash of anger passed over Buffy’s face, her eyes stormy when she opened them again to look at him. Of course it would somehow figure that the former cheerleader turned half-demon seer super bitch would find out about her most precious and painful memory and find some way to use it against her. She had probably even thrown it gleefully in Angel’s face before making sure that the news hit the Sunnydale gossip grapevine.

Biting back her anger, Buffy focused her attention on Angel who was staring at her intently with an almost fearful expression on his face.  He deserved the truth. He’d asked for the truth. She would tell him. She could do that much. She sighed then, a faint almost negligible sigh encompassing a wealth of experience in dealing with pain and heartbreak.

"Liam Angelus Summers was my-" Her voice was a soft whisper as long repressed memories began to surface in her mind. "He was our baby. Yours and mine." She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it for so long now; if the memory weren’t so vivid she would almost question whether it had all been a dream.

Even though he had mentally prepared himself for it, the words struck him like a blow. He leaned heavily on the counter behind him, his mind ceasing to function. He could only stare at her, unable to form any words, ask any of the dozens of questions clamoring in his thoughts.

"I-I lost him." She continued quietly, looking down at the table and tracing a small pattern with her fingers.

As if moving in slow motion, Angel stepped forward and pulled the chair around the table to sit next to her. He reached out and took her hand, holding her small hand in both of his. His thumbs stroked soothingly over the back of her hand as he waited for her to continue. 

At his gentle touch, tears began to well in her eyes. Tears of sadness for the child she had wanted so very much, tears of grief that she had never shared with anyone.  Even the cold spell that protected her heart hadn’t completely touched the love she had felt for her tiny baby.

Swallowing hard, her voice a hushed whisper, she continued.  "They said it was a miscarriage."

Angel was stunned, but all of the signs that he should have seen began hitting him like a ton of bricks; her scent had changed after they had made love and he had lost his soul. Angelus had never questioned the altered scent, arrogantly assuming it was because he had marked her as his mate. True enough, Angel thought somewhat ruefully, he had certainly marked her. The other signs were there as well, had he only paid attention: he never recalled her having her menses once when he was Angelus, but he had written that off simply as a matter of timing – they had only seen each other intermittently. Too, she had dressed more conservatively in those months as well, giving nothing away physically. And Lenny, the minion he had staked had mentioned that she had been overweight… Mentally he castigated himself. He should have known. But then, he had never even harbored the remotest suspicion that it could have been possible.

"I didn’t know… that I was pregnant, not at first. Not for a while really." Buffy felt as if the words were coming from a distance, as if it were not her story that she was telling but someone else’s.  She had never talked about this with anyone but Giles, too leery of exposing such a deep and painful wound to anyone else. Her friends, her mother… they had never supported her relationship with Angel and they would never have empathized, much less understood.  Only Giles knew, and he knew because she *had* needed to know how it had even been possible.

"After you and I- After we-"

"Made love." He finished for her, his hand squeezing hers gently.

"Yes. After that night." She whispered, her eyes meeting his for a moment before dropping back to stare at her hand engulfed in his.

"I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. I was beyond stressed." Buffy looked away, out of long standing habit when it came to talking about those months that he had spent as Angelus. They never talked about what had happened; instead they had swept it under the rug naively hoping that it would simply go away.

"Well, you know what those months were like." She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, "And I-I didn’t really even consider the possibility that it could be anything else, that I could be pregnant. I mean, after all I didn’t think you could- " 

/* I wouldn't know. I don't... Well, you know, I, I can't." */  The words he had said were still clear in her mind, as if he had just said them to her last week or last month or maybe last year. But then, every moment they had shared had been etched in her mind and also once in her heart, so deeply that she knew she would never forget them.

She had excused her lack of menses for the first three months as related to stress. There simply was no reason for her to even believe that it could be anything else since, well, they both thought he couldn’t. And at the time she didn’t even know if Slayers could even have children.

Angel nodded, urging her to continue as his guilt rose with increasing force. As if it had not been bad enough that he tormented his lover, the woman that he often thought of as his wife, she had been pregnant with his child at the time. He was appalled and filled with remorse, cursing himself both as a man and a demon.

"It wasn’t until just before I-I…" Buffy stopped then, taking a deep breath. Her eyes met his briefly and then she looked away. "It wasn’t until just before… just before I sent you to hell that I thought maybe it was possible. Maybe. I didn’t know how or why. But I bought a pregnancy test…"

Two days. She had known for only two days before she had to shove a sword into the gut of the one person she loved more than anything in the world and send him to hell; ensuring for all she knew that her baby would never see his father; that Angel would never see his son. Her voice quavered slightly when she continued. "It was positive."

The memory of that day swelled in both their memories filling the room with a hushed silence. The refrigerator hummed softly, nearby a car door slammed.

"My mom would never have been able to deal with it. She was having enough trouble coping with the fact that I’m the Slayer." Buffy continued with a heavy sigh. It had only been during her illness that Joyce had begun to show signs of accepting Buffy for what she was, rather than wishing for her to be something different.

Buffy gave a sad, brittle little laugh and shook her head. "She would really have lost it if I had told her that not only am I the Slayer, but that I was expecting her first grandchild in October, whose father just happened to *be* a vampire."

Angel remembered Joyce’s lack of support for her daughter, the oblivious bubble that she lived in for so long where Buffy was concerned and he frowned in disapproval. Of course, his own conversation with Joyce had simply added to the convincing arguments of why he should leave Sunnydale, why he should leave Buffy. He couldn’t escape culpability of that decision; although Joyce certainly had influenced him as well.

"My friends… I don’t think they would have understood." She murmured softly. That was an understatement and they both knew it. Xander would have condemned her, Willow would have been ashamed perhaps, or confused and distant. Neither of which would have helped Buffy in her situation.

"Giles… he would have spent the next few months cleaning his glasses so that he could avoid looking at me." Her voice was touched with sadness, a hint of the shame that she would have felt for letting down her Watcher; the last person that she had to look up to at the time. Giles had easily filled the void her father had left, even surpassed him in importance in her life. She had been devastated to think that she would have disappointed him back then.

"And then Angelus… " Her mossy green eyes, wet with unshed tears, met his deep brown ones. She wasn’t sure how the vampire would have reacted to the news that he – or his souled half - would have been a father.

Without a doubt Angel knew how the demon would have taken the news. Angelus would have strutted proudly, loudly proclaiming to any and all who would listen about his prowess, and then he would no doubt have taken her away. Far away from her mother, her friends, her Watcher. From anyone that would seek to harm her or separate them. He would have been fiercely protective of his offspring with his mate; all of which were feelings that Angel would have to admit that he shared. The demon was and had been strangely quiet tonight now that Angel thought about it.

"How?" The word escaped him in a strangled whisper. It wasn’t what he meant to say, wasn’t what he wanted to say, but there it was just the same.

"I think you know *how*." Buffy shot him an irritated look, but then softened at the chagrined look on his face. No doubt this was a surprise for him; she had had time to come to terms with it. It hadn’t been easy at first, but eventually she learned to deal with it. "Souled vampires are apparently different in other ways too. Under the right circumstances, they *can* and do have children."

Buffy could still see Giles’s face that day in his office in the library when she told him that she had been pregnant. It hadn’t been long after she had finally confessed to he and Willow what had happened that day with Angel, that day when she had to send him to hell with his soul intact. A day that haunted her still.

"I suppose that might help to explain how Connor… " She trailed off with a small shrug, dropping her eyes once more to stare at their intertwined hands.

Angel’s thumb rubbed her palm now, stroking softly as his mind searched for answers. Yes, he had Connor but he had long thought that his son was a once in a lifetime genetically manufactured Wolfram and Hart special. It never occurred to him that there would be any other explanation.

"Slayers rarely have children, you know.  And according to Giles, there’s also something special about souled vampires and Slayers…"  Buffy frowned slightly, remembering that Giles had never completely explained that part to her other than to tell her that it was possible because of their combined freakiness. "They can… or they could but… "

"But?" Angel quietly asked, once more studying her face.

"But…we weren’t together anymore, Angel." She shifted slightly in the chair, crossing one leg under her and withdrawing her hand from his. "So there was no more chance."

He’d left her because he wanted more for her than demons and darkness; he wanted her to have someone that could make love to her, someone that could give her children, someone that could give her sunlight. He could have given her all of it but sunlight; would it have been enough? He blamed himself for Giles’s deception. Had he not murdered Jenny, perhaps the Watcher would have told them about his soul. Perhaps things would have been different. He ached with remorse and guilt.

He closed his eyes in impotent frustration. He was also afraid to ask the question in the forefront of his mind, fearful of what might have happened to their child. He wanted to know, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Taking in his anguished expression, his closed eyes, Buffy took a deep breath and continued in a small voice. "After… after I had to … kill you…" She paused; still hating the sound of those words even after all these years.  "I ran away. I went to LA. At first I thought I would stay with my dad, but then… I just couldn’t. I figured I would find a way to make things work, somehow, for me and for the baby. I got an apartment off 3^rd and West, and I got a job as a waitress." 

"I wasn’t in LA very long … " her voice cracked, her emotions surging as she struggled to tell him the rest of the story, "before I lost the baby."

Angel’s eyes opened, his heart squeezing at the sound of her voice.

"It was a pack of demons." Her voice was low, hushed, as her mind flashed back to the alley that day. She had been on her way home from work, exhausted from being on her feet all day and weak from hunger. It seemed that she could never get enough to eat anymore, yet she was eager to eat properly now and take care of herself and her coming little one. She had decided, after mentally reviewing the contents of her tiny fridge, to stop by the store for something more palatable and so had taken a street that was not on her normal route home. As she walked along she was distracted, thinking about the day when she’d hold a tiny dark haired, dark eyed babe in her arms when the pack of demons swarmed around her, pushing and prodding at her, driving her back in to the deep recesses of the alley despite her attempts to fight them off. There were too many of them, coming at her from all sides with their meaty paws and rapid movements.

"Shaqti." Buffy whispered, the sound barely escaping her lips as her mind recoiled in horror. They were horrible creatures, dwarf like with thick gray skin and coarse black hair. Their yellowish eyes bulged from their faces above a broad nose with wide nostrils, thick with veins. They breathed heavily, obscenely as they came at her, their mouths twisted into a hungry leer and revealing sharp, blackened teeth.

"Shaqti?" The name jolted him, his eyes widening with horror. For a few minutes he fought to quell the waves of nausea churning his stomach, as he was nearly sick with anger and despair. He’d heard of the brutal demons that fed off the unborn but he had never actually seen them. They were long believed to be a myth; their attacks dismissed as rape or botched, self-inflicted abortions.

"Yes." Buffy ground out, drawing his attention back to her. "I tried to fight them off, Angel, I did, but there were too many of them, and they were too fast. My reflexes were too slow…" They had cornered her and pinned her in the alley, tearing her clothes away as she screamed and struggled. They were like pack of wild animals, vicious and brutal. They swarmed her, several of them holding her down as they ran their calloused, pudgy hands over her body. One of them had buried his face in her then gently rounded stomach, inhaling deeply before leering up at her face. The demon then reached between her legs, inside her… Buffy jerked abruptly, a small sound of distress escaping her lips as she forcibly shoved the memory away.

At the anguished moan, Angel reached out and gathered her in his arms, pulling her to his lap. She didn’t resist him, just settled in his arms with her face pressed against his neck. He buried his face in her hair and took an unneeded breath as she relaxed against him, her eyes filling with tears.

With a small gulping sob, she continued, "A gang of demon hunters came along… the demons, they ran." She shifted slightly, adjusting her position and rubbing her cheek along the softness of his shirt collar. 

Angel felt her breath, warm on his skin as she exhaled softly. "They took me to the hospital."

He hugged her tighter, pain constricting his chest. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear this, but he had to know.

"The doctors… they tried… but it was too late. " She murmured softly, almost apologetically. "I was bleeding too badly…" Buffy’s mind flashed back to that day, that day when she had lain in the hospital with violent cramps shooting through her body. She had heard the nurses talking to each other just outside her door, the words cutting through the pain. They had said that since she had been so far along – 5 months or so perhaps – that it would be more of a birth than a miscarriage, although with much less pleasant results.

Rage, desolation, guilt all swept over him, nearly choking him, his mind nearly unable to comprehend what she must have endured. Inside him, his demon howled with fury, with pain.

"I was just over 5 months along so technically…" Buffy continued, her voice sounding strangely distant. A single tear rolled down her cheek and dropped on his chest as he began to rock her tenderly in his arms. "it was a premature birth, not a miscarriage."  The fever that followed the painful labor hadn’t lasted long thanks to her Slayer healing abilities, allowing her to escape the hospital that she hated so fervently. It also gave her time to make arrangements for her baby’s funeral.

Angel closed his eyes, the pain tearing through him. He shook with the force of his emotions. The wave of guilt that he hadn’t been there to protect her was nearly overwhelming him, threatening to drown him. He held on to her tightly, as if that would somehow save him, as if she would keep him from shattering into a thousand small pieces of ash.

"Oh god, Angel. I wanted that baby more than anything." She declared softly, her shoulders shaking. She seemed to come back from some interior focus, looking up at his face as her tears began in earnest.

"I’m sorry, sweet, so very sorry." Angel soothed, rocking her gently and kissing her brow.

"I-I I buried him in LA. They said I didn’t have to… That normally in situations like that the baby is just… destroyed." Her voice hitched with her tears and she took another gulping breath. She had wanted her baby so desperately; it was a part of Angel, the only part of their love that she would have been allowed to have, to keep…  "But I just couldn’t let them do that…" She earnestly pleaded, as if begging him to understand.

Silently he grieved, his own tears threatening.

"He would have been so beautiful, Angel. Dark hair, dark eyes. Just like you." Once more her voice hitched and a tear slid down her cheek and dropped on the dark silk of his shirt.

"Yes, love, he would have been beautiful." He agreed softly hugging her tightly again, almost crushing her into him as his hands swept over her back in gentle strokes.

"I wanted to tell you, I did, but… You were so broken when you came back from hell. You suffered so much. I didn’t want to make it worse.  I thought hearing about the baby would only hurt you. And I didn’t know if you’d even believe me… that it was yours…"

Even then she’d thought of him first. His eyes closed against the pain. He wanted to cry himself as he felt another of her small tears run down his neck, Buffy burying her face against his collar again. He’d never even questioned if the baby was his or not; that was never in doubt. His demon would have killed any man or boy that would have dared come too close to her, that he was certain.

"I waited for you to heal. But then there was that whole thing with the First… you were already suicidal – I couldn’t add any more to your despair." Her voice held an almost desperate quality as she spoke.

"And after… well, after that there was that whole thing with Faith…" She trailed off, silent for a moment reminded of her insecurities about his affections.

Angel said nothing, his own heart breaking.

"And then… you broke up with me. And it was too late." Her voice was low as she murmured softly against the cool skin of his neck,  "You were gone."

"Buffy, I’m so sor-" He squeezed his eyes tightly then opened them to look down at her, placing a kiss gently on the top of her head.

"I thought you would blame me." She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, "God knows I blamed myself. If only I would have taken better care of myself. If only I had known earlier; if only I hadn’t taken that street that day…" Her voice broke. She had hunted for the Shaqti after she had healed, when she had gone back to fighting, but she had never found them. At first she had only fought because she wanted to die; at best it was distraction from the pain and heartache that she had felt. By small degrees she learned to live with the ache, learned how to cope with the loss. Time helped her to heal, although she felt forever changed.

Gathering her in his arms he stood and carried her down the hall to her room. He settled on the bed, covering her gently with the comforter, then shrugged out of his coat and lay down next to her, gathering her in his arms. She buried her face against the solid wall of his chest and gave in to her grief.  He held her in silence while tears escaped her lashes with increasing frequency and trailed down her cheek. He had no words to console her, no platitudes sufficient to ease the pain she must have felt.

Having spent nearly his entire lifetime keeping emotions at bay, he wasn’t able to expose the extent of his distress. The baby would have been his first son. And the baby had most likely died because of him, directly or indirectly. Words couldn’t express the depth of his sorrow, the emptiness that he felt.  If only he hadn't lost his soul that night.  If only his demon hadn't ravaged Sunnydale, making it impossible for his lover to share her difficulties with him.  If only he hadn't roused Acathla in an effort to end his obsession with her...

"Oh, Buffy, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, so very sorry."  He whispered softly, kissing her gently on the forehead and cuddling her close as his own tears welled in his eyes. A single tear rolled down his face, dropping onto her cheek and merging with her own. That small touch unleashed the torrent of tears that she had kept buried deep inside for 8 long years. Her muffled sobs warmed his skin; the wetness of her tears soaking the dark copper silk shirt that he wore.

He clutched her close, his anguish and rage so strong, so powerful that he had to fight the urge to howl, giving in to his grief as his demon would.

Instead, he held the only woman that he had ever loved and wept with her silently for what they had lost.

Nearing dawn, Angel still held Buffy in closely in his arms listening to the quiet even breathing of her sleep. He hadn’t moved during the night, content to hold her and not wanting to disturb the tranquility of her sleep when she finally dropped off after the exhaustive emotional disclosures in the night.

He’d spent the long hours of the night with his thoughts in turmoil, but with the gray light of dawn approaching things were starting to become clear. First and foremost, his priority was to take care of Buffy, his love, his mate, his wife. He had failed her for the last time.  He had to keep her with him; that was no longer even a consideration. He kissed her sleeping forehead.

They would find a way to share their time between LA and Sunnydale, until one of them could relinquish their obligations in one place or the other. He would hire help if necessary; anything that would convince her that they could make this work.

He had to get back to LA; his thoughts race ahead, grimly planning his strategy for finding and destroy every last Shaqti demon that he could find, beginning with the ones in LA.  His eyes flashed gold and he tampered down his rage. Cordelia would need to be dealt with as well; he didn’t trust her. Letting her simply leave the hotel had been a mistake. She would need to be locked up or killed; she was a threat to his friends, his family and to Buffy. He wouldn’t allow that danger again.

Buffy moved in his arms and he pulled her closer, returning his attention to her. He also needed to reclaim his mate and break the spell. He couldn’t deny the dark thrill of desire, of possessiveness that accompanied the thought.

He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as Buffy sighed softly against him.

Buffy walked tentatively, glancing around her with growing trepidation. The street was frighteningly familiar, the same Los Angeles street that had tormented her dreams for months. She ran her hand over the large mound that was her stomach, feeling her baby kick as if he too were aware that they should not be there. Glancing over her shoulder, she picked up her pace and turned the corner.

Immediately she knew that she had made a mistake, that she should not be in this darkened alley. She froze, hearing the obscene panting breaths and grunts behind her, the rhythmic pattering of running feet growing closer.  

"Angel?" She whispered tentatively in the dark. She clutched a hand over her fluttering stomach and ventured forward into the darkness of the alley. Something glinted in the dark and she looked down to see the sword charm necklace that Angel had always worn.  The length of the chain was covered in blood. 

Buffy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. In the next instant she realized that Angel was gone, that she had killed him. Her babe kicked again, harder this time. The sounds behind her were growing louder and she glanced over her shoulder in panic.

Angel stood a few feet behind her, watching her. He glanced nervously toward the opening to the alley as well.

"Angel?" She questioned softly, doubting the sight that was in front of her eyes.

Behind her a laugh sounded and she whirled around. "The demonic monster that fathered your bastard offspring is roasting in hell where he belongs!" Xander’s voice called out to her, although the brown haired boy was nowhere to be seen.

Buffy whirled around again only Angel was gone. The sounds of the approaching demons were growing closer. Clutching her stomach with one hand, she turned and ran. A hand swiped her back, reaching for her. In the next moment, a demon leapt on her back sending her sprawling to the hard ground.  She put one hand over stomach as she fell, the other out to brace her fall, her first instinct to protect her unborn child. She screamed.

She looked like an angel; pale, fragile, delicate, clothed all in white. Her belly, now swollen with his child was the only thing that detracted from the image, yet to him it only enhanced her beauty.

She called out his name, walking past him in the dark alley as if she had not seen him standing there, close enough for her to touch.

Angel moaned in his sleep, seeing the Shaqti demons rapidly approaching behind her. They raced through him as though he wasn’t there, running fast and hard for his mate as she struggled to escape them in the dark alley.

He sprinted toward them as the demons shoved Buffy to the ground, swarming over her like a pack of animals. He grabbed for the nearest demon, but he was unable to budge the swarthy creature, despite it being less than half his size, his hands passed right through the demons shoulders. If the Shaqti noticed that he was there at all, they gave no sign of it.

"Angel, help me!" Her scream reverberated through the alley, his name torn from her lips in a desperate cry as the demons began to pull at her clothing, tearing it from her.

He redoubled his efforts, punching, hitting, kicking, but it made no impact. The demons continued their attack as though he wasn’t there.

"Angelus…" She moaned the demon’s name in a desperate plea for help of any kind, giving the Shaqti a momentary pause as they chattered among themselves before continuing with their despicable task.

Angel stared in impotent rage, as he could do nothing to prevent the Shaqti from taking their child. He growled in frustration, his demon visage apparent.

When they ripped his child from her, he howled.

Buffy screamed in her sleep and sat up in the bed, clutching her stomach in an anguished cry. In the next instant she rolled out of the bed and ran for the bathroom, nausea overwhelming her.

Beside her, Angel came instantly awake, a low growl rumbling in his chest and the sounds of his own nightmarish scream rumbling through his mind.  He reached out for Buffy, only to find her gone. He panicked, swinging his legs over the bed and coming to his feet, his gut knotted in fear.

He heard her then, retching in the bathroom. He shook his head to clear the remnant of the horrible nightmare and moved quickly toward the sound. Kneeling beside her, he swept her hair back from her face with one hand, his other hand splaying across her stomach tenderly to soothe the convulsing spasms.

Buffy gasped and heaved until she was deathly pale, her eyes liquid with fear and dread. When the dreadful contractions ceased, Angel lifted her gently in his arms and sat her on the edge of the tub. She looked up at him gratefully as he handed her a glass of water and a cool towel.

"I’m sorry," Buffy croaked, her throat raw. Color was returning to her cheeks, easing his fears somewhat.

Shaking his head in negation, Angel brushed back a few damp tendrils of hair from her face, his eyes studying her intently. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I just… it was just a…  nightmare." She replied softly, closing her eyes and willing away the disturbing images. She knew though without him even having to say anything that he knew. He had been in her dream, just like he had shared her dreams before. He had seen her nightmare himself.

"Come back to bed. You should rest." Angel tugged her gently to her feet, then took the towel and water glass from her hand. Setting them aside, he waited as she brushed her teeth then he lifted her in his arms once more, despite her protests, and carried her to bed.

She mumbled something about not being tired, about needing to get up for work soon but he ignored her, handing her the phone to call in sick and staring at her with a piercing glare from deep brown eyes until she gave in.

Afterward, he talked quietly, telling her innocuous tales about life in LA while he retrieved pajamas for her from her bureau. His voice was low, soft – a distraction, perhaps at some primitive level, to keep any further evil at bay for either of them.

He undressed her like a child, and she teased him for it, touching his cheek lightly with her fingers when he bent down to slip the pajama top over her head.  It was such a sweet and rare moment for the two of them, a sharing in the aftermath of the night's dramatic events, that it gave her pause. She felt a twinge of regret that she could no longer love him with the depth of passion that they had once shared or even perhaps, as he truly deserved.

"Buffy," He knelt in front of her, his eyes serious as he searched her face. One of his hands rested lightly on her thigh. "Come back to LA with me tonight."

"Angel…" She reluctantly looked away from his intent gaze. No matter her feelings, she was loath to hurt him. Perhaps getting involved with him in any sense had been a mistake. "You know I can’t. I have responsibilities here. Slaying, a job."

"I need you with me." He murmured softly, reaching up touch her jaw lightly and turn her back to face him. Her hazel green eyes gazed up at him through the thick veil of her lashes.

"You said it yourself that things have been quiet here. Please Buffy, just for a few days." He pleaded softly, his fingertips moving along her cheek in a gentle caress. "I have some things to take care of, things that can’t wait… Please."

Buffy pressed her lips together thoughtfully. It had been quiet in Sunnydale lately, that much was true.

"You could help me out a bit, maybe take on a case or two." Angel switched his tactic slightly, "Not to mention, I could use some back up on patrol."

She studied his face for a long moment, wondering at his motives. She did enjoy his company and a change of pace in LA could break of the monotony of her somewhat staid routine.

"Okay, you win. But just for a few days." Buffy smiled slightly, then reached for the buttons on his wrinkled shirt. She insisted that if she were going to stay in bed, that he join her, knowing that he couldn’t leave now anyway with the sun peeking over the horizon.

He undressed and joined her under the covers, gathering her in his arms. He kissed her then, a gentle, sweet, chaste kiss as they curled up together in her bed and listened to the sound of rain, just beginning to fall outside. They talked quietly for awhile, enjoying the closeness that they had rarely been allowed, even in their most intimate moments.

They talked about their hopes and fears for the future as well as about the past, the various events in their lives during the years that they had been apart.

After a while they drifted off to sleep, lulled by the pattering rain and the warm coccoon of the bed.

His footsteps echoing on the tile floor, Whistler crossed the wide expanse of the hotel lobby and headed for the stairs. There were no lights on, no sounds, no signs of activity anywhere within the Hyperion nor had there been for the last two days.

Picking the lock with a nimble adeptness that belied his often inept and bungling appearance, Whistler let himself into Angel’s suite of rooms. As he closed the door behind him, he wondered for a few brief seconds when the vampire had become so particular about his privacy. For as long as he had known him and despite the expensive furnishings and art that he had acquired over the years, Angel rarely locked his doors – or so Whistler had thought - until now.

Strolling through the utter stillness, Whistler saw nothing that would give away the vampire’s whereabouts. Sighing, he returned to the living room and opened the cabinet where Angel kept a few bottles of liquor stashed. With a murmur of appreciation, the small demon sniffed the half-empty decanter of Scotch before pouring a healthy draught. Nothing like the Irish to keep good whiskey around, he thought with a twinkle of a smile, lifting his glass in toast before drinking the amber contents in one quick swallow.  He refilled his glass and ambled over to the sofa, collapsing onto it with a heavy thud.

The things that he had discovered since his return from Saggaria disturbed him more than just a little, beginning with Doyle’s death. That bit of news had been a shock and a disappointment. He grieved for his fallen friend with resigned acceptance; death of those he cared about was a much too often occurrence in this world and especially in this particular line of work. 

Whistler exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink, savoring the taste of the strong liquor this time. Doyle’s misguided choice of Cordelia as his successor might possibly have been the worst choice that the demon could have made. 

Shaking his head ruefully, Whistler thought about his friend. There was no doubt that Doyle had always been easily influenced by a pretty face. In fact, his easy susceptibility and weakness for beautiful women had been a bit of a joke between the two of them for years. That combined with the fact that the Irish demon tended to look for the best in people, always optimistic that with a little patience and encouragement you could help anyone find the good and noble path had surely been the reason for his misguided choice. But Doyle hadn’t been a complete fool; eventually he knew his friend would have seen the narcissistic, vicious and shrewd woman that lay beneath the beautiful façade. Sadly, he hadn’t had the time.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes Whistler thought about the months and years that had passed while he had been gone. He finished his drink and stood, ambling to the small kitchenette and setting the glass in the sink. No sense waiting around here all day. If and when Angel returned to the Hyperion, it wouldn’t be until nightfall. In the meantime, Whistler thought, he could do a little more research on just what had been going on.  As he closed the door quietly behind him, he couldn’t help the tremor of fear that passed through him at the thought that he was back just a little too late to make things right.

"Be careful." Angel bent and kissed Buffy’s lips gently as she stopped just inside the front door. She tucked the credit card that he insisted she take in her purse along with the grocery list that he had written down for her.

"It’s just shopping, honey. Not slaying." Buffy’s voice was teasing as she turned to face him, leaning back against the heavy oak door with both hands behind her back. Her smile at him was impish. "Although, I honestly can’t say that I haven’t been tempted to slay at Nordstrom’s half yearly sales. Those can be vicious."

At the look on his face, she laughed slightly and kissed him. "I’m kidding. It’s not like I’m going to run into anything demony. And even if I do, see,"  reaching in her bag she retrieved a stake, something she always carried with her, "prepared."

"I know. I just … I worry." Moving forward, he pressed her back against the door as he brushed another kiss on her cheek before sliding his lips to her neck.

"I promise I’ve shopped safely many times before." She arched her neck giving him better access to the smooth skin of her throat as goose bumps formed on her arms. Her palms flat on his chest, she ran her hands up slowly to the rounded caps of his shoulders.

"And with a lot less incentive to come home." Her voice was soft against his ear, quavering slightly with the intensity of her emotions. Their recent hours together lingered in her mind, saturating her senses with him and filling her with a quiet joy.

Angel lifted his head, his face serious as he looked down at her. He touched her face gently with his fingers, tracing her jaw line, her cheek, her lips. He could no longer imagine his life without her in it. His need for her both excited him and terrified him in equal measure.

His eyes drifted closed as he bent his head to kiss her. At the first velvety, brushing contact of their lips they both sighed softly and melted together. Buffy twined her arms around his neck and she molded herself against his hard, muscled body in flagrant invitation even as he pressed her back against the door.

After a long moment, Angel reluctantly lifted his head and let Buffy catch her breath.

"I should go." Buffy murmured softly, without conviction, her gaze drifting over Angel’s face before stopping again on his lips. She hadn’t moved, her body still tightly pressed against his. He was so beautiful, she thought, his hair still rumpled from sleep and from her fingers running through it. He stood there in front of her barefoot and shirtless, looking down at her with dark eyes so sensual and compelling that she felt a frisson of heat spike through her veins.

"You should go." He replied, sighing softly, his forehead resting against hers. How were they ever going to manage their lives when they couldn’t even stand to be apart for a few hours?  "The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back."

"This is me. I’m going." Buffy inhaled deeply and leaned back from him, her own thoughts an echo of his. A tiny shiver of fear crept along her spine at the thought of ever losing him again, but she pushed it away, unwilling to consider the possibility while held safely in his arms. As if to justify to herself and to him why she needed to go, she added, "We *have* to have food." Her voice trailing off with a sigh. She’d much rather prolong the insulated, sequestered pleasure of their new life and their rediscovered love.

Forcing himself to take a step back, Angel smiled at her as he recalled her stomach rumbling in hunger under his ear just a few hours earlier. "Yes, we do."

He bent to kiss her again, the touch of his lips delicate and restrained this time.

Buffy’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she turned the knob on the door, "I’ll bring you a surprise."

"Just bring you – and my car – back safely." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger.

"I knew it! You’re just worried about your big beastie of a car." She teased as she opened the door. Blowing him a kiss she stepped out to the covered porch.

"Remember that scratch on the hood? That was already there," Buffy called out behind her as she walked through the gated courtyard, "and so was the dent in the fender."

"Just be careful, love."

Angel watched from the shadows just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed on the gentle swing of her hips as she strolled down the walk. Just outside the gate, she turned to face him again, smiling brightly and blowing him another kiss before climbing into the car and roaring away from the curb.  A small sound, almost a whimper, escaped his lips as the tires hit the curb squarely when she made a right turn at the corner.  He mentally pleaded with anyone that would listen that both Buffy and his car make it back in one piece.

Sighing heavily, Angel said another small prayer for her safety and closed the door. Trooping back up the stairs, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and sat on the bed, now made with the sheets and blankets that he had found in the linen closet only a few hours ago.

The first order of business was to get the house cleaned.  He dialed information and asked for the number of a cleaning service.

Connor jogged back into the parking lot of the hotel where he had been staying with Gunn, Fred and Amelia since Angel had sent them all away from the Hyperion.  He slowed to a walk when he reached the stairs, but took them two at a time until he reached the third floor corner where their rooms were.

Gunn allowed him to get out every day for a few hours of exercise, knowing that the waiting and inactivity was making them all tense and edgy.  Thankfully, Connor thought as he stopped at the vending machine for a soda, Gunn underestimated how far and how fast he could really move, otherwise he might have second thoughts about the time he allotted him to be out alone.

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Connor knocked on Gunn and Fred’s door, shouting a greeting that he was back as was required as part of the deal that he get to go for a run on his own. He continued down the walkway, reaching in his pocket for the card key to his room.

He was curious about the demon that he’d seen leaving his father’s rooms at the hotel today, particularly since he had known that Angel had locked his door when he had left. On inspection, nothing obvious had been taken. Nothing, that is, other than some of Angel’s expensive Scotch. He’d followed the man down the street until he had entered a cheap hotel just a few blocks down from the Hyperion. He made a mental note of the address, then turned and raced back to the Four Seasons before he was missed.

His father would probably be upset to know that he’d been back to the Hyperion several times and that he had been searching for Cordelia on his own.  Not that he harbored any illusions that she cared for him, not any longer.  He was angry and embarrassed that he had been so easily manipulated, and he was more than a little hurt that something that had meant so much to him – their relationship – apparently meant nothing to her. And now, quite simply, he didn’t trust her.  

Of all of them at Angel Investigations, Connor perhaps knew Cordelia best. She had shown him a side of herself that he knew that the others had never suspected had lain beneath the saintly façade she had managed to create.  He knew, without a doubt, that she could be single-minded, determined, and dangerous.

None of which he suspected boded well for his father.

Satisfied that the amount of money promised for immediacy and expediency would ensure that the cleaning crew would arrive within the hour, Angel dialed Gunn’s cell number.

"Angel? That you?" Gunn answered on the second ring, his voice touched with frustration and no small amount of worry.  It had been three days since he, Fred, Amelia and Connor had checked into the Four Seasons hotel, waiting for any word from Angel and had heard nothing. Angel’s cell phone had gone unanswered, the messages left for him unreturned. Gunn had begun to fear that perhaps the vampire had met his final fate. "Where the hell have you been? We thought you were dead."

"Yeah? Well, that hasn’t changed."  Angel’s brow quirked upward slightly and he shifted the phone to the other ear, opening the various drawers of the bureau and the closet door in the bedroom, reacquainting himself with the contents of the house.  In his search, he found a few articles of clothing that Angelus had left in the house: a black Japanese silk brocade robe, two pairs of pajama bottoms, several silk shirts, and three pairs of leather pants. He held the leather pants out in front of him and grimaced slightly. He needed a change of clothing, but this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.  It’s an improvement from your typical attire, should you ask me. His demon sniffed somewhat indignantly. Besides, Buffy loves them.

"You know what I meant." Gunn grumbled irritably, although he was relieved to finally hear his friend’s voice.

"I’ve had a few things to take care of." Angel replied distractedly, answering his demon with the next thought. I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?

"Cordelia? Did you find her? Is she-" Gunn asked, stopping abruptly as his eyes met his wife’s as she walked over to look at him anxiously, the mention of Angel’s name having drawn her interest. Still staring up at him with wide eyes, she rocked Amelia gently and sat next to her husband on the bed.

"Not exactly." Angel reluctantly answered, increasingly convinced that he hadn’t handled the situation with his seer as he should have. That’s an understatement. Had you snapped her neck as I suggested, this would not even be a consideration now, the demon muttered in a mocking voice.

"What do you mean, not exactly?  Angel, talk to me man. We’ve been sitting on our asses here for three days…" Scowling churlishly, Gunn stood and paced across the room. His voice dropped to an angry whisper. "I moved my wife and baby out of our home, I’m keeping an eye on your son and you’re not even keeping me in the loop here. Now tell me what the hell is going on."  The last sentence came out in an explosive burst of impatient anger.

Chagrined that he had all but forgotten his friends in the calamitous events of the last few days, Angel began somewhat apologetically, "Sorry. I know it’s been hard for you guys as well. Some things came up that were… unexpected. How’s Connor holding up?"

The demon within him snorted, but said nothing. Why are you stirring anyway? You’ve been quiet for days. Angel mentally questioned even as he attempted to shift his attention back to Gunn.

Like you could have heard me anyway over your grunts or the Slayer’s delightful little screams? Angelus muttered, his tone undeniably jealous.

"Hey – he’s fine. We’re all fine. Things could be worse than hanging out here," Gunn looked through the curtain at the perfectly manicured gardens and sparkling blue pool below. "but I need to know what you’re doing. I need to know that my family will be safe."

"Nothing will happen to any of you if I can help it." Angel declared firmly, "Just stay out of sight until I find Cordelia and deal with her."  And kill her. Don’t forget that part. Oh, wait? Are they too fragile to hear the truth?

"You know what you’re going to do with her?" Gunn asked quietly, careful to not alarm Fred or wake the now sleeping baby.

Well, how about we take her to a nice dinner, followed by a movie and a quick fuck, then we can see if she wants to get back together… Shit. What a dumb ass. What the hell does he think?

"Whatever I have to do to make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone else." His answer was underscored with lethal softness, sure and unequivocal. ‘Bout time, but let’s back those words up with action this time soul boy, shall we? The demon continued his running commentary, despite the fact that Angel was ignoring him.

"You need any help?"

"No, no thanks. This is my problem." Angel took a deep breath of unneeded air as he descended the stairs and turned into the kitchen. His own complacency had led him into this situation, now he needed to get himself out of it, along with his family and friends that he had unwittingly drawn into it with him. "I’ll take care of it. Just stay there for a few more days. I’m back in LA now so you should be able to reach me if you need anything."

"Back? You go somewhere?" Gunn questioned almost hesitantly. He was suddenly struck with the thought that perhaps Cordelia’s actions had an additional impetus, maybe as those of a woman scorned. "Like say, Sunnydale?"

Angel’s reply was only a muffled noise as he answered a knock on the door. Gunn couldn’t hear quite what he was saying, as the vampire was apparently holding his hand over the phone, but he could hear the voice of what was obviously a woman laughingly reply to him. 

"Sorry." Angel came back on the phone.

"Are you with Buffy, man?" Gunn inquired with anxiety in his voice. "Because I’m not at all sure that’s such a good idea. The last thing we need is Angelus in the mix now."

"There’s nothing for you to worry about. My soul is bound." Yes, we tested that quite thoroughly. Angelus replied petulantly, although I’m still hoping something will knock it loose here again. Under his breath, Angel muttered. "Just another thing Cordelia knew and didn’t tell me."

Gunn considered Angel’s answer along with the trace of guardedness evident in the vampire’s voice for a moment before he spoke. "Okay, man. If you’re sure…"

"I am." Angel flatly replied, watching as the four women who had come to clean the house bustled off in various directions.

"Still, if you need any help-"

"Thanks. I appreciate that but I’ll deal with it." His voice was soft, his decision made days before, hours before. "Hey, can I talk to Fred?"

"Sure. Hold on."

Angel waited until Fred’s voice sounded on the phone. He asked about her and Amelia with controlled impatience before shifting the conversation to the topic at the forefront of his mind.

"Fred, I need a favor… Would you see what records you can find for a Buffy Summers in one of the local hospitals? Try Good Samaritan off of 7^th.  I need to see what records they have for her and for her baby."  Angel paused, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him with the reminder of their loss. "The baby’s name is- was … Liam Angelus Summers." 

He wanted to know as much as he could about his son, but he couldn’t put Buffy through that conversation again. It had given her nightmares and it had made her physically sick. No, he couldn’t do that to her again. Not yet, maybe not ever.

"And anything from a…" Pausing, Angel searched his mind for the name of the funeral home that he had seen that night when searching through Buffy’s things. "Cunningham and O’Connor Mortuary for the baby. This would have been sometime in June of ‘99."

The young mother’s heart wrenched at the thought of a baby’s death. Even without knowing the baby’s mother, death of the young and innocent always seemed to be more grievously wrong somehow.  Of course she had heard Buffy’s name before and knew that she was Angel’s ex, but she had no idea that the young girl had ever had a baby much less lost one. And a baby she had named ‘Angelus’…

Fred made a few notes on the desk pad and told Angel that she would get back to him as soon as she found anything out. Luckily she had brought a laptop from the Hyperion so she could start with some online research almost immediately.

"Angel…" She was both avidly curious about his interest in the baby and deeply sympathetic for Buffy. What a terrible thing for her to have suffered.

"Thank you." Angel interrupted before she could ask any questions. He told her everything that he intended to; anything more would have to wait until he had the time to come to terms with his son’s death himself.

Sensing that the topic was closed, Fred changed the subject. "Where are you staying, Angel?  Do you want me to get you a room here at the Four Seasons with us?"

"The Four Seasons?" Angel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he moved out of the way of the cleaning lady that bustled by him in the kitchen. The young woman smiled brightly at him and began the arduous task of removing the dishes from the cabinet so that they could all be freshly scrubbed as requested. 

He grimaced at the mention of the hotel, anticipating yet another steep bill to pay. "Could you have found some where more expensive?"

"Well, Cordelia always said that this was one of the better places and that…" Fred glanced at Gunn, trailing off sheepishly as she realized that the cost had never even occurred to her.

"Never mind, Fred. It’s fine." Angel replied exasperatedly, mentally noting that he’d have to have a talk with the AI team about expenses from here on out. They had run fast and loose with money for much too long, thanks to Cordelia’s influence.

"Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you guys in a day or two." Angel snapped off the phone and nodded once more at the girl who was watching him and smiling. He was unaware of the interest that he was generating in the young maid, standing there shirtless and barefoot.

He checked the time on the kitchen clock before walking back into the living room, searching for a small corner out of the way now that the house with buzzing with activity, the house cleaners busily at work.

Next he dialed Nikkos’s number.

Buffy eased the black Plymouth over to the right and angled into the open space. She thanked her lucky stars for not only finding a parking spot on the congested street just a few blocks down from Magos Exousia, but an end space at that which gave her plenty of extra room to attempt to park the unfamiliar car.

She had worried enough at the thought of trying to parallel park Angel’s boat of a car in the busy west LA neighborhood with it’s congested streets. As it was, even pulling directly into the space on her first attempt she was still almost a foot and a half away from the curb.

Putting the car in reverse, she began to back up to move the car further into the somewhat narrow parking spot. A car behind her honked, startling her, and she slammed on the brakes. Her head swiveled around to look behind her at the driver in the big white SUV. She stared back over her shoulder until the impatient driver roared around her, making an obscene hand gesture and shouting something that Buffy couldn’t quite make out over the roar of the car’s engine. Obviously he had thought to swoop in on her spot, mistaking her movements as exiting the space rather than trying to park.  

With a small shrug of her shoulders, she resolutely turned her attention back to the demands of parking the big GTX. With only three more seesaw maneuvers, she managed to get the car reasonably close to the curb.

A pleased smile on her face, Buffy exited the car and started down the street.

Cordelia parked her yellow jeep in the first open space near Magos Exousia, unconcerned about the painted symbol on the asphalt now beneath her tires or the blue handicapped sign that clearly marked the spot. She wasn’t planning on being in the shop long and besides, those spaces were almost always empty.

As she glanced over at the sign to the shop, she knew now why the name Nikkos sounded familiar. She had been to the very same shop several times in the past with Angel and she knew that the vampire had been friends of sorts with the man who ran the shop.

Frowning at the perceived tiny complication, Cordy tilted the rearview mirror and checked her makeup. She smoothed her brows and reapplied her lipstick, contemplating what to say to Nikkos.  Since he knew Angel, then she would likely need some excuse as to why she needed a love spell…

Tilting the mirror back up, her eyes widened at what appeared to be Angel’s car creeping along the street several blocks down. Before she could get a good look at the driver, a delivery van crossed the street and stopped just behind her, blocking the car from view.

Cordelia’s heart raced for a moment before she forced herself to calm. The sun was directly behind her and still above the horizon shining brightly so it couldn’t possibly be Angel. Barring any unusual circumstance that would allow him move around without harm in the sunlight, there was the simple fact that he never let anyone else drive his car, ever, which meant that it couldn’t be Connor or anyone else from AI… Regardless, when she opened her door she cautiously glanced down the street, holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the late afternoon sun. The car was now parking rather inexpertly into a parallel spot, the driver a small shadowed silhouette.

Nope. That confirmed it. That could not possibly be Angel. Besides the fact that it was daylight and that the driver was much too small to be the tall vampire, Angel drove that car expertly, like it was part of him.

It had to be purely coincidence, the similarity of the car to his. Dismissing the momentary distraction from her mind, the seer grabbed her bag off the seat and headed into the magic shop.

At the sound of the door chime, Nikkos casually looked up from the counter where he had been reviewing the inventory list of a recent order. None of his surprise showed on his face when he recognized the dyed blonde seer as his latest patron.

"Ah, Miss Cordelia Chase." Nikkos greeted politely, albeit without any warmth in his voice. "What brings you to Magos Exousia today?"

"You know me?" Cordelia ran a hand over her hair, preening as the smile on her face changed from the fake plastered on one that she had been wearing to one of genuine pleasure. This was going to be easier than she had thought if he remembered her. Men tended to go out of their way for her because of her beauty; this one would obviously be no different.

 "Of course. I never forget a face." Nikkos replied blandly, studying the seer closely as if attempting to discern her motives for visiting him or the magic shop this late afternoon.

"Oh." The dyed blonde batted her eyelashes theatrically, further assured that charming the proprietor of the magic shop was going to be a piece of cake. "We’ve met then?"

"Yes, a few times." The blue-eyed warlock answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I’m so sorry." Cordy replied flirtatiously, reaching over the counter to touch Nikkos affectionately on the arm. "I just get that a lot, you know, men always saying that they know me or that I’m somehow familiar. It’s such an overused pick up line." 

"Ah." Nikkos replied, his eyes flitting down to her hand on his arm. It might be overused, he thought with a small smile, but he bet it worked often with the former brunette. Shrugging slightly, he stepped back out of her reach and took the small orb that sat on the counter in his hand. He busied himself with replacing it in the case below. 

"You’re Nikkos then, right?" Cordelia inquired brightly, completely missing the smirk on the warlock’s face.

"That’s what I’ve been told." Nikkos nodded, his blue eyes once more returning to her face. Although he had once thought her beautiful, under further consideration he revised his opinion. She was artificial and insincere. Her demonic countenance was too obvious to someone familiar with such things, or so he thought, noting the complete absence of any warmth in her eyes along with the trace of maliciousness that graced her fake smile.  Her body was curvaceous, but he could see evidence of the overindulgence in sweets and lack of physical activity rapidly changing the muscle tone to fat in the next few years. He slowly shook his head. What Angel had ever seen in her, he could not even begin to understand.

"Listen, I need your help." She stated earnestly, shifting her stance to lean over the counter with her ankles crossed in what she was sure was a seductive pose. Not to mention, it would give the man a nice view of her cleavage, should he choose to look.

"You do, do you?" Nikkos asked, his tone amused. Did she really think that she could bat her eyelashes and show him her breasts and he’d be falling over himself to help her out?

"Well *I* don’t exactly. It’s… It’s for a friend of mine." Cordelia spontaneously improvised, seized with an idea.

"A friend?" The warlock’s brows lifted slightly in question.

"Yes, a friend."  Her tone was more confident as the spontaneous lie began to take shape in her mind. With melodramatic sadness in her voice, she continued, "It’s sad really and I’ve told her time and again that she needs to move on, but she hasn’t. You see, she sees Angel and I together and how happy we are and it just breaks her heart. She wants what we have so very badly."

"Oh really?" He asked with leisurely indifference, his baby blue eyes bemused as he watched the seer. He could almost see her mind working as she developed her story.

"Yes, you see she’s desperately in love with someone who doesn’t love her. It’s pathetic really, but my heart is just breaking for her; she’s so lonely and so sad. And I want to do something to help her. I need to help her. After all, she is such an old and dear friend."

At the sound of the door chiming behind her, Cordelia glanced back over her shoulder and cast an irritated look at the intruder.  Nikkos wave a greeting to the young woman, who turned right and disappeared behind the shelves into the store once again leaving them alone.

Turning back to face the warlock, Cordelia continued in a conspiratory whisper,  "So I was told that, well, that if anyone could help me, er- her, that you could."

"Is that so?" Nikkos impudently questioned, although his cheeky manner completely went over the dyed blonde’s head.

"Yes."  She said, her voice low as if disclosing a confidence. With a sad and pleading look on her face, she reached out again and touched Nikkos on the arm. "I want to get my friend a love spell."

"A love spell?" The warlock questioned thoughtfully, his eyes dropping to Cordelia’s hand on his arm.

"Yes." She beamed happily, pleased with her excuse and growing increasingly certain of its effectiveness in getting her what she wanted. How easy men were to manipulate, she thought with a small smile.

With a small gasp, Cordelia jerked her hand back in stunned surprise as a small but somewhat powerful shock seemed to emanate from the warlock’s body. She stared at him warily, shaking her now stinging hand.

"Well then, love spell books are on the 2^nd aisle over." Dismissing her, Nikkos turned back to the list of items that he had been reviewing when the seer had arrived in the store.

Attempting to hide her growing irritation, Cordelia pressed on insistently. "No, you don’t understand. The spell I- uh, the spell she needs has to be a very powerful love spell. One that would work on a vampire. I don’t want some lame ass smoke and mirrors crap for the tourists or wanna be wiccas."  Her voice growing higher and louder, she demanded, "I want the real deal. I *need* the real deal." 

Nikkos turned his attention back to the dyed blonde, his eyebrows lifting upward in question as a small sound of revelation escaped him.

"Just hold on there. Before you think this spell is for me…" Cordelia lifted her hand, holding her palm flat to him as she shook her head in negation.

The phone on the counter rang shrilly, interrupting her next words.

"Excuse me for a minute, please." Nikkos politely stated as he picked up the phone. "Magos Exousia. How may I help you?"

"Ah, hello my friend." Nikkos greeted the caller warmly, a small playing on his lips as he glanced back at Cordelia.  "Strangely enough, you were just on my mind. I have someone at my counter right now so can I put you on hold? The wait will be worth it, I assure you."

Nikkos listened to the caller’s reply, then pressed a few buttons on the phone setting it back in its cradle.

Returning his attention to Cordelia, he asked, "So, Miss Chase, you were saying?"

"Let me say first, that I know that you know Angel and I’m sure you also know that he’s a vampire but let me assure you completely, totally and unequivocally no doubt about it that this spell is not for him. Not for me. Not for us in any way. We’re so blissfully happy it’s not even funny. We’re even going to have a baby." 

At the look of surprise on Nikkos’s face, Cordelia giggled. "Well, not yet. We’ve got to work out all of the details and then go through the whole fertilization process… but I don’t want to bore you with all of this."

"Yes, no need." Nikkos replied with something akin to horror on his features. He had no idea that the seer had been entertaining such outlandish fantasies, nor, did he suspect, did Angel.

"Let me just say that I can’t remember ever being so much in love as I am now." She continued with a soft sigh, pausing for a moment as if reflecting on some fond memory. "Angel wants to get married before the baby, but he wants a big wedding. I was thinking something small and intimate, just us and a few friends and family. But no, he insists that I deserve only the best. He wants me to go to France and get my gown designed special for me and he’s talking Harry Winston’s for diamonds… A reception at the St. Regis, and the flowers… That man is such a romantic that he wants only pure white orchids, which will have to be imported of course. Oh. Sorry. I tend to get carried away."

Nikkos waited patiently, his curiosity admittedly piqued at just how far the seer would take her outlandish lies in her attempt to get what she wanted.

"The spell … It’s for my friend. Her name is… is Buffy… Yes, it’s Buffy! It’s really a long and dull story so I don’t want to bore you with the details, but let’s just say she’s in love with a vampire. He left her, she’s heartbroken and I’d like to help her. I know her ex loves her too… he just needs … let’s call it a push in the right direction. A reminder." 

"Interesting."  Nikkos murmured in disbelief. Did the seer know how close she had come to the truth? What sort of game was she playing? 

"Yes, I know it sounds farfetched," Cordelia hesitated, wondering for a brief second about the expression on the warlock’s face as he regarded her so intently. Did he know about Buffy’s sordid history with Angel?

"But that’s our little Buffy. She’s got such an independent streak."  She chirped, her voice coming out high-pitched and shrill with her increasing nervousness. "Oh, and please don’t tell Angel that I’m doing this for her. He wouldn’t like me interfering." 

"Why is that?"  Nikkos asked, a distinct edge to his voice.

"I really shouldn’t tell you this, but well, he doesn’t particularly care for Buffy or for Spike. And he really doesn’t like me keeping in touch with her. Bad memories for him and all, with both of them."  Cordelia tossed her head slightly, shaking her dyed tresses as she pursed her lips. Impatiently she asked, "So? Will you help me-er, her?"

After several moments of what Cordelia perceive to be careful consideration, the warlock replied brusquely, "No."

"No?!" Her eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline with her surprise, her mouth dropping open. She hadn’t expected such a blunt, flat refusal.

"No." Nikkos repeated firmly.

"Just why the hell not? I come here to do a nice thing and you- you turn me down? Just what kind of super sorcerer warlock magic guy are you anyway?!" The seer sputtered angrily, her face turning red. She stomped her foot and rested her fisted hands on her hips in a show of outraged indignation.

"A damn good one, for one thing." He replied calmly, a lazy insouciance in his voice. "But Miss Chase, let’s face a few facts. You aren’t exactly being truthful with me here. Your tale about your friend… "

"What?!" Cordy shrieked disdainfully, her eyes bright with anger. "What do you mean, exactly truthful? Are you saying you don’t believe me?"

"Exactly that. Yes, I know Angel and I also happen to know your *friend*, Buffy and I know that she doesn’t need any love spell that you might wish to provide. But I do know what *you* need."

Nikkos glanced at the former brunette speculatively, patiently waiting for her response.

"Oh really?" Cordelia muttered sarcastically, curious despite her anger. "What do you think that I need?"

"Let me show you." Nikkos smiled, reaching in the counter for a clouded glass orb.

The bright red display caught her attention and Buffy stopped abruptly. A small smile playing on her lips, she examined the elegantly displayed red and white lingerie along with the accompanying hearts and flowers advertising Valentine’s Day specials.

Idly Buffy contemplated the lacy red chemise, wondering what Angel’s reaction would be if she were to wear something like that. Although she knew he liked red, she didn’t quite know his taste in lingerie, what he might find sexy or attractive. They had never really had time to explore that side of their relationship. That is, until now.

Her smile widening to a grin, Buffy opened the door to Wicked Pleasures and entered the small boutique.

After only a moment of perusing the shop, she spotted the deep red lace of the desired item hanging just to the left of the counter and made her way across the store. Stepping in front of a nearby mirror and holding it out in front of her, she tried to imagine the look on Angel’s face were he to see her in the sheer floral lace. Would he like the short length with the sexy slit up one thigh? Or would he prefer something more… traditional?  Was it too… risqué for his taste?  Would he find it … trashy? 

But the thought of wearing it for him generated thrilling, intoxicating tremors deep in the pit of her stomach. His dark eyes, lit with desire, watching her from the bed as she approached him with it on…

"That’s a beautiful choice. Handmade Italian."

The voice over her shoulder broke into her thoughts and Buffy whirled around in surprise. "Oh, yes it is. It’s beautiful."  Her cheeks pinked slightly in embarrassment, as if the woman might have been ascertain the direction of her thoughts.

"You’ll be absolutely stunning in it as well. That particular shade of crimson red is perfect for your coloring." 

"Oh. Thanks." Buffy smiled and glanced down once at again at the seductive garment, still a little uncertain about Angel’s reaction should she buy it and wear it for him.

"I’m Mona." The redhead greeted warmly, her blue eyes sparkling brightly as she extended her hand. 

"Buffy." Buffy returned the greeting, feeling suddenly and immediately at ease with the slender woman. As Buffy released her hand, she was filled with an incredible sense of déjà vu. She would have remembered the woman had she met her before, of that she was certain. But her eyes - they seemed so familiar…

"Would you like to try that on, sweetie?"  Mona studied the petite blonde, keenly taking in the faint blush, the hint of a smile and perhaps even more telling, the fading purplish bruise and the accompanying bite mark on her neck. Mona’s smile widened to a grin.

"You don’t think it’s a little too…" Buffy glanced back at her reflection in the mirror.

"If there’s one thing I know about men, darling, it’s that there is no such thing as *too* of anything. At least not with sexy wisps of lace designed to provoke their… imagination." Mona offered her a playful glance, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Your husband will absolutely love it and love you in it. Although I doubt he’ll let you stay in it very long."

"Oh," Buffy smiled sheepishly, her color heightening at the thought of an impatient Angel stripping it from her in a passionate rush. "I’m not married."

"Really? And here I would have bet money that you were a new bride."  Mona chuckled, moving briskly around the store and selecting a few other items.

"No, not a bride. What makes you say that?"

"Sweetie, you’re positively radiant. Glowing. And only new brides have that look." With a sweep of her arm, Mona gestured to the curtained dressing room at the back of the store. 

"Of course, great sex can also put that look on a girl’s face."  The redhead winked as Buffy blushed, ducking into the small alcove.

"Ah, I thought so."  Mona smiled knowingly, hanging the items she selected on the hook before drawing the curtain closed.

Buffy selected the first item on the rack, a simple vintage-inspired empire waist gown in embroidered sheer tulle, long and flowing. The soft white fabric pooled around her feet as she twisted and turned in front of the mirror, taking in her reflection. She felt like a bride in the white gown. Well, maybe a bride on her wedding night, she revised, noting that you could easily see through the sheer fabric.  What would it be like to be a bride? She once had dreams of being Angel’s bride, complete with the white gown and flowers-

"Try on the apple-green silk next, sweetie. I have a cashmere robe that matches that perfectly. Ooh. And some cinnamon apple candles. That color makes me think of fresh, juicy apple pie for some reason." Mona’s voice came through the curtain interrupting her musing, "Now where did I put those…"

Buffy obligingly tried on all of the items that she was handed, listening to Mona’s running commentary about life, love and men and making the appropriate responses when necessary. There was no question that the titan haired shop owner’s choice of lingerie was absolutely flawless; the selected sizes were a perfect fit, the colors and styles all impeccable and suited perfectly to Buffy’s taste.

Before long, almost a dozen items of various designs had been tried on and a glass or two of chilled champagne had been consumed, Mona having opened the bottle to add to the afternoon’s impromptu festivities.

When Buffy tried on the last item, a high-necked floral print flannel nightgown awash in lace and ruffles, she paraded out into the store and she and Mona both broke into a fit of giggles.

"I’m almost positive that Angel would prefer … well, anything else to this." Buffy laughed and twirled around as the skirt billowed out around her.

"No doubt." Mona smiled, taking a sip of her champagne. The flannel gown she had included with the other items as a joke, knowing that Buffy would get a good laugh out of it in contrast to the sexy lingerie that she had been trying on.

All-in-all, Mona was quite pleased to see that the soul mates had reunited, and she was delighted to hear – thanks to her gentle but insistent and nosy prodding - that he had insisted Buffy come to LA with him. Although, she thought with a lift of her eyebrow, with the garments that she had helped Buffy select and with her understanding of a vampire’s libido, she doubted that anyone would see them out and about anytime soon. If Angel’s sexual appetite was anything like what the three sisters had once suggested, then he would be keeping his lover and mate in his bedroom for quite a while in order to make up for lost time. Mona grinned like the Cheshire cat at the thought. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom tonight.

 "These are all so beautiful. But I can’t afford them…" Buffy began apologetically as she set the three that she liked the best on the counter in order to choose one.  She had narrowed it down to the red lace, the white almost bridal like gown and a green chemise that complimented her eyes.  She was close to spending the last bit of her savings that she had allocated for clothes shopping, the rest having been spent earlier in the day at Bloomies and Nordstroms.

"Sweetie, you really should take all three." The red haired shop owner suggested firmly, sliding the lingerie across the counter and beginning to remove the tags. "And I can promise you, Angel will absolutely love them or you can bring them all back. The candles too."

"I don’t know…" The Slayer murmured contemplatively. She did have Angel’s credit card that he had insisted that she take, but she was reluctant to spend his money. She loved the thought of dressing up in the sexy outfits for him though…

"How about this? If you wear any one of them for more than five minutes after your beau sees you in them, I’ll give you double your money back."  Mona suggested sportively with a wink.

After a short hesitation, Buffy smiled and reached into her purse. If Angel didn’t like them, she could return them and if he did… then maybe he wouldn’t mind her spending his money on them.

Mona hummed softly and rang up Buffy’s purchases, smiling when the diminutive blonde slid the "Angel Investigations" credit card across the counter. She was a silly romantic, she supposed, but she was infatuated with love and lovers and simply adored the idea that the two soul mates had finally found their way back to each other after all these years.

Lifting the purple and white bag off the counter, Buffy thanked Mona again for the lingerie recommendations, the company and the champagne.

"Oh, one second sweetie, I have something else here…" Mona slipped through the curtains into the back room only to return with a large and heavy box, "This belongs to Angel, er, well Angelus. He bought these things a few years back but never returned to pick them up. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind delivering them to him for me? I suppose I should have sent it to him before now, but the opportunity just didn’t seem to come up."

Before Buffy could put together a sentence, her wits having flown at the redhead’s casual mention of Angelus, a phone began ringing. Reaching under the counter for her purse, Mona dug frantically through the stylish bag until she found the tiny phone. Flipping it open, she answered the caller with a friendly hello.

"Oh, darling. How *are* you?"  Mona smiled at Buffy and waved before turning and slipping through the curtains into the back of the store, continuing her conversation.

How did Mona know about Angelus? How *well* did she know him? A green streak of envy raced through Buffy at the thought that Angelus might have been attentive to the beautiful and sultry redhead.

Chewing her bottom lip, Buffy waited, wanting to ask the questions that were ricocheting through her mind. Mona’s conversation continued unabated on the other side of the curtain.

After a few more seconds of consideration, Buffy sighed with resignation and picked up the heavy box. Maybe she’d just have to ask Angelus.

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