Buffy watched him carefully. "Yes," she said evenly, "my son."

"I, uh, didn't know you had any children," he replied lamely, fumbling with his napkin as he fought for composure.

"I am aware of that," she responded with deliberate slowness.

"So ... ," he foundered. Buffy had a child. A child. The revelation rocked his already shaky foundations. Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't someone told him? He forced himself to calm down. Buffy was an adult. They had lived very separate lives for a quarter of a century. It was unrealistic to think that she wouldn't have gone on with her life as he had with his. Angel thought about his own existence and almost cringed. Obliterating his pain in any way he possibly could, shunning his friends, running from everything - including the child he had inadvertently fathered. Of course Buffy hadn't reacted like the way he had. She was strong, so strong. She went on with her life. She had a child, opened a gallery. She made something of her life and he could not begrudge her that happiness. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Is Nick an only child?"

"Yes," Buffy replied, a smile playing on her lips.

Angel took a drink of his water. He noted to himself that at least Nick wasn't a rival, but he was still staggered by her revelation. "His father ... " Angel prompted.

"He doesn't have one," Buffy responded with a strange finality.

Angel's brow furrowed. Surely Nick hadn't been some demon spawn like Cordy's pregnancy. What if Buffy had used artificial insemination? Some women opted to go that route for motherhood. He personally had always favored getting kids the old fashioned way, science be damned. Then again, there was the option that she had gotten him the old fashioned way – by having sex with a man - and Angel found himself reevaluating the positives of sperm banks.

Buffy tried not to laugh. She could practically hear the thoughts racing around his head. "Is this going to scare you off?" she asked pointedly. "Because I'm not in the mood for your insecurities. Single parents raise kids all the time. And anyway, Nick isn't a kid. He's twenty-four years old. I'm not trying to snag a daddy for him."

Angel stared at her like a deer in the headlights trying to absorb her latest statement. The ‘scare you off' comment definitely meant she was looking for something more than a friend. Also, her kid was twenty-four? Buffy must have gotten pregnant within months of him leaving Sunnydale. Not that it mattered, all of that was a lifetime ago and he had to focus on the present. "No," he said slowly, "it's not going to scare me off."

"Good," Buffy said smiling, "then you can come to dinner tomorrow and get to know him."

Angel nodded and said, "All right."

Clarice jumped, as the door to her elegantly furnished apartment was thrown open unceremoniously. For a split second she dared to hope that it was Angel, back to beg for her forgiveness, but she sneered when she saw Dan.

"Looks like things are a little off schedule," he growled through clenched teeth.

Giving him a glare, she returned to her task of painting her elegantly pedicured toes. "So everything didn't go completely according to plan," she said nonchalantly.

"'Didn't go completely according to plan'?" he parroted in a frantic voice. "You stupid little bitch! Things are more than a little off course. You were supposed to keep him away from her until everything was in place. All of our plans could be ruined by now!"

"Things are off course," she said in a clipped tone, "but we will get back on track. At this point they've had very minimal contact."

Dan laughed to himself and met her gaze again. "Guess again," he said snidely. "He was in the gallery this morning. You should have seen them looking at each other. We're in real trouble, they aren't wasting time. They're having dinner together right now."

"Damn."

Buffy took a second glance at the house as she approached. There were lights on inside. She calmed when she noticed Nick's car. She hadn't been expecting him, but it wasn't odd for him to stop by unannounced. As she parked the car and headed inside, she chided herself for not being at the gallery. She had a ton of work to get done, but she couldn't keep herself focused on cataloging. "Nick," she called as she opened the front door.

"Down here," he answered, though the sound was muffled considerably.

Buffy made her way to the open basement door and yelled downstairs, "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the tent," came the exasperated answer.

"It's not down there." There were several barely audible curses followed by the sound of boxes being shoved back into the storage space under the stairs. By the time Nick made it upstairs, she had poured herself a glass of water and was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island. "You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble by just calling me and asking me where it was," she said lightly.

Nick scowled, he had been digging around in every closet and storage space in the house for hours with no luck. He hated the idea that a two-minute phone call could have solved his problem immediately. "I didn't want to bother you," he said. "I called the gallery and Dan said you had a date."

Buffy took a swallow of water. "It wasn't a date," she said calmly.

"Oh, really?" Nick prodded, cocking an eyebrow at his mother. "Then what was it?"

"Dinner. With a friend," she clarified, mortified that she was blushing slightly.

"Uh huh. Is this the same friend from last night at Jack's?"

Buffy coughed, nearly choking on the water as she blushed deeper. "Yes," she managed to get out.

"You two used to be real good friends," he teased lightly.

Rolling up a nearby magazine, she smacked him on the arm. "That's no way to speak to your mother," she chastised.

Nick laughed openly, sitting down to join her at the island. "I'm just teasing," he said with a smile. "Besides, I'm glad you're getting out. I was afraid you were going to turn into one of those antiques that you seem to love so much."

Buffy gave a mock gasp to her son's comment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a very attractive woman. You should date, find a partner, settle down. Be happy."

"I am happy," Buffy replied with a frown.

"No you're not," Nick said bluntly. "You pretend to be happy so I won't worry. I mean, I know you're not thinking of throwing yourself into a lake or anything, but I know you're lonely."

Buffy sighed, looking her son up and down. She wasn't about to admit to the veracity of his words so she changed the subject. "You're being awfully supportive," she said dryly. "You usually do your best to scare off my dates."

"Please," he said, "I haven't done that in ... well, it's been a while. Besides, you're an adult, I'm sure that you are perfectly capable of deciding who you will or will not spend time with."

Buffy smiled but said, "And I'm sure this new altruistic outlook on my love life has nothing to do with the identity of my not-date."

Nick did a very believable mock outrage. "I'm offended," he gasped. "How dare you think I might have ulterior motives."

Buffy rolled her eyes and waved off the comment. "By the way," she said, "the tent is in the garage on the storage racks on the north wall … right where it's been for the last fifteen years."

Nick frowned, but headed out to the garage.

"What are you doing anyway?" Buffy called through the open door.

"Going camping."

"You do remember you're supposed to have dinner with me tomorrow?" she asked pointedly.

Nick reemerged from the garage with the tent in hand. "Yeah," he said, "I remember. The trip isn't until next weekend, I just figured it would take me a week to find everything."

Buffy nodded and looked pointedly at the tent, thinking how appropriate his time estimation had been. "We're going to have company tomorrow evening," she said without meeting Nick's gaze.

"Let me guess," he said with an evil grin, "Angel?"

"Yes."

Angel paced around his tiny apartment rearranging everything in sight. Two days ago he wouldn't have given a single thought to the state of his makeshift home, but suddenly it was very important. He didn't want Buffy to think he was a slob. Not that she would be seeing the inside of his apartment anytime soon, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Dinner with Buffy's family. He felt all nauseated and nervous at the very thought. What if her son hated him? Angel hadn't gone out of his way to make a good impression the previous night, in fact, he almost growled at the young man. So much for getting things off on the right foot...

Angel studied the slip of paper Buffy had handed him after dinner, his hands shaking from nerves and sickness. It was her home phone number and address. According to her, she was living in a house only a couple of blocks from Revello Drive. He still had a hard time imagining Buffy as the happy homemaker, but apparently she was – sans husband, of course. That thought made him feel better.

"Buffy, really," Giles chided, "why are you going to all this trouble?" She didn't answer, he looked across the sofa to Nick for an answer. When Giles arrived for their usual Sunday dinner, he found Buffy racing around the kitchen frantically, trying to decide everything from which set of dishes to use, to where they should eat, to how many tomatoes to put in the salad. He was reminded painfully of the last Thanksgiving the Scoobies spent together before Nick was born. He prayed Buffy wasn't going to be that crazy this time around. It wasn't even a holiday.

"We're having extra company tonight," Nick explained with a sly grin. Long ago, he had promised his mother that he'd never betray her confidence, but it didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. "Mom has a date."

"It's not a date!" Buffy yelled from the kitchen.

"It's a date," Nick countered in a whisper.

Giles smiled broadly at the tidbit of gossip. He felt for a long time that Buffy needed to find someone to make a life with, especially now that Nick was grown. She kept trying to bury herself in her job, and was doing a fairly good job of it, but the Watcher longed for her to find real happiness with someone. "Who is the mystery man?" Giles whispered, though it actually came out rather loudly due to the his failing hearing.

Nick looked at his grandfather for several long moments, deciding how much to say. "A professor of history at UC Sunnydale," he admitted quietly, keeping one eye on the kitchen door, making sure Buffy wouldn't walk in on their conversation. "She had dinner with him last night."

"A history professor," Giles said with raised eyebrows. "What's he like?"

"I only met him for a minute in Jack's the other night," Nick replied somewhat evasively. "His name is Angel."

"Angel?" Giles gasped, and then froze for several minutes. Just when Nick was getting ready to check the older man for a pulse, Giles bellowed towards the kitchen, "You're dating Angel?"

Buffy came out of the kitchen holding a dish of corn in one hand, wearing a very sheepish expression. "We're not dating exactly. He's coming over for dinner."

"Oh, right. I forgot. He eats now," Giles grumped.

"Giles," Buffy said in a dangerous tone of voice, "that was almost thirty years ago and if I can get past it, so can you. Do not even think about ruining my dinner."

At the command, Giles sank back into the couch, the wind knocked out of his sails. He really didn't have a problem with Angel. He had long ago made his peace with the former vampire, but where Buffy was concerned, Giles was still an overprotective father.

Angel stood on Buffy's front porch, assessing and reassessing his appearance. He went for black. It was a staple, plus he felt comfortable in it. At the last moment, he thought maybe he should have worn something light, something that didn't scream "vampire". He walked the thirty minutes to her house hoping that it would calm him down, that the air would make him feel better, but it hadn't done any good. Not that he had a lot of options other than walking, he still didn't have a car, but he could have taken a cab or a bus.

With a feeling akin to the sensation experienced by kamikaze pilots heading out on a mission, Angel knocked on the door. It was opened several moments later by the same young man he had seen Friday night in Jack's. Without the tinge of jealousy to color his perception, Angel easily noticed the young man's resemblance to Buffy.

"Come in," Nick said with a smile. "Don't mind Mom, she's having a minor nervous breakdown right now," he said, as he led Angel into the living room.

"I heard that!" came Buffy's frantic yell from the kitchen.

Angel frowned. "Maybe I should go see if she needs any help," he said to Nick and Giles.

Both men shook their heads in unison with expressions that told him it would be suicide to attempt such a feat.

"Hello, Angel," Giles said, and held out his hand.

Angel gratefully took the proffered hand and replied, "Rupert."

The three talked for the twenty minutes it took Buffy to finish getting everything ready for dinner. She steadfastly refused any offers of help, forcing the three males in the living room to make conversation. It was awkward at first. Angel had no trouble seeing through Giles' calm facade to see the overprotective anger simmering beneath the surface. Angel didn't begrudge Giles his anger, he knew that he more than deserved it. But for his part, Giles did try.

Nick was a different story. He was open, but there was an underlying wariness that confused Angel. The young man seemed happy that his mother was dating, but it was tempered with a worry he could not completely hide.

Fortunately for Giles and Angel, Nick kept up the bulk of the conversation, steering it towards occult subjects whenever things became strained. Both Giles and Angel could speak on those topics at length. All in all, it wasn't as uncomfortable as Angel had anticipated. Dinner was undoubtedly delicious though Angel was too overwhelmed with Buffy's nearness to truly pay much attention and his newfound sobriety still made any sort of solid food decidedly unappealing even with fantastic dinner companions.

After dinner, Buffy and Angel were sitting on her sofa talking. Nick went home, dropping Giles by his condo on the way. Angel smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he had done anything this decadently domestic as joining in a family dinner. He liked it. It made him feel centered in a way that had been missing since those first years in Los Angeles. He stretched, looking at the beautiful woman sitting next to him. "Are you going to need help with the dishes?" Angel asked.

"No," Buffy said with a wave. "Leave ‘em. I'll get them tomorrow."

Angel nodded and then dared to venture into weightier subjects, "Nick is a pretty amazing kid."

"I know," Buffy said seriously. "He keeps me sane. I don't know what I would have done without him."

"You're very lucky," Angel said with a sad smile. He was truly happy that she was blessed with Nick, even if it did burn him to some degree. His own sacrifice had nearly killed him. To learn that Buffy had been faced with the same prospect and had the strength to take a different road made him wonder about his own decisions.

"Yes, I am," she said with a matching smile. "He's always been like that, even when he was little. He could always just sort of see through all the crap and get to what mattered."

"I'm sure he gets that from you," Angel said.

"Oh no," Buffy said with a laugh, "no way. Trust me, I would have remembered if he had been kicked out of school for burning down the gym, or a murder suspect, or anything else that I did. He's not like me and I thank gods for that every day."

Angel frowned. The other option was that Nick was like his father – the man Buffy refused to discuss. Almost as if she read his thoughts, Buffy said quietly, "I think Nick is his own person. He always has been. He doesn't get it from anybody, he just is."

Angel nodded, that answer would do, for now. He fully intended to get to know every facet of Buffy's life, but all things came in time. "I really had a nice time tonight," he said seriously, twisting on the sofa to face Buffy.

"Good," she said with a smile. "I had a nice time too."

Angel knew it was too soon to push, but he couldn't help himself. His senses were overwhelmed with Buffy. The sight of her, the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin. After such a prolonged absence, he was almost reeling from the overload. He had several serious conversations with himself earlier in the day, all of them geared towards taking things slow. He didn't want to rush things. He couldn't bear it if he scared her away. Of course, the thoughts of taking things easy were lost the minute he saw her again.

He scooted towards Buffy on the sofa until their thighs were touching. He was shaking, feeling for all the world like a some gangly teenager on his first date. His heart was pounding in his ears and his breathing was too fast. Holding eye contact with her, he said in solemn tones, "I really missed you, Buffy."

She met his gaze, both unable and unwilling to look away. "I missed you too," she whispered, her tongue snaking out to wet her dry lips. Angel's gaze dropped to her lips watching her pink tongue. The look of raw hunger on his face made Buffy shiver in anticipation. As his gaze made its way back up to her eyes, she held her breath and waited.

It seemed like an eternity before his lips were on hers, gently nipping and sucking, his tongue pleading for entrance. With a gasp, Buffy opened her mouth and her tongue immediately tangled with his, the two rubbing together sensuously as their mouths meshed. They spent long minutes exploring the forgotten territory of each other's lips and tongues, reveling in the taste of their respective mates, so long denied them.

"Buffy," Angel groaned, as he broke off the kiss to nip along her jaw line to her ear. Her eyes screwed shut as Angel's infinitely talented mouth circled around her earlobe. She held onto his broad shoulders, her fingernails digging tiny crescents through his thin shirt. With a grumble of approval, Angel made his way down her neck, biting gently and sucking roughly. Buffy keened, pressing more fully into his mouth. She knew, without a doubt, that she would have some pretty serious hickeys in the morning, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Needing to touch him without hindrances, Buffy lifted his shirt and ran her hands along the achingly familiar planes of his chest. Never halting his ministrations on her neck, Angel moaned and arched into the contact, silently begging her for more. Ever one to oblige, Buffy grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled it quickly over his head, baring his chest completely. Buffy's mouth watered at the sight. It was beyond unfair that someone as old as him with his history of physical depravity should be blessed with a body like that. Not that she was complaining. She wasn't. With something very akin to a growl, she attacked his chest with her mouth.

Angel threw his head back, panting harshly as she pulled large pieces of his flesh between her teeth, sucking roughly. It had been an eternity since he was this excited by a physical encounter. With a needy sound, his fingers bit almost painfully into her hips and he dragged her across his lap until she was straddling him. Moaning at the sinfully delightful contact, Buffy's fingers dug deeply into the flesh of his upper arms. They ground their hips against one another, both of them fighting for breath. Angel was hard and ready for her, and Buffy was so wet she was sure it was seeping through her stockings and into the fabric of his pants.

The skirt she was wearing normally hit her just above the knees, but it rode up several inches farther when she straddled him. Unsatisfied with the amount of skin showing, Angel put both hands on her legs and pushed the skirt up until it was just barely covering her rump. He kept his hands clamped firmly around her upper thighs as she leaned forward to kiss him again. He met her kiss, molesting her mouth with wild abandon. Eventually he broke off and looked her in the eye.

It was too soon, too quick, the exact opposite of everything he planned earlier – but he couldn't have stopped if his life depended on it. "I want you, Buffy," he hissed. "Now."

She nodded frantically and, between kisses, breathed, "Yes. Yes."

Angel pulled her roughly against his body as his eyes scanned the room. He broke off the kiss long enough to ask, "Here?"

Buffy tried to gather her scattered thoughts. They were in the living room on the sofa, with the blinds open. The neighbors could see them. "Upstairs," she said tersely, grabbing his face with both hands and mauling his mouth once again.

Angel didn't bother with a reply, he simply stood up, holding her against him and ascended the stairs two at a time. Luckily, he retained his preternatural grace after becoming human. When he reached up the upstairs hallway, he stopped. "End of the hall, third door on the right," she said, between kisses.

Once again, Angel followed directions without comment, pausing only long enough to kick her bedroom door shut with one foot. He set her down on her feet and they both frantically undressed themselves and one another as they made their way towards her bed. Angel somehow managed to have the coherency to remove his wallet from his slacks and set it on the nightstand before the garment fell to the floor in a heap.

When they were both completely nude, they stilled for a moment, standing length to length, holding each other, reveling in the sensation of being skin to skin with their mates. Buffy gave a fleeting thought to their fractured past, to all of the horrible things they did and said to one another. Despite all of the pain and horror, this somehow felt right like nothing else in the world ever had. She knew, without a doubt, that she had never - would never - experience this sensation with any other person. She also knew that it was the same for Angel – regardless of the multitude of partners that had warmed his bed over the years.

Angel seemed to read her mind. "I love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion and need.

"I love you too," she answered with complete sincerity. She knew it was crazy to be making such a statement. They had only been on speaking terms for a couple of days, but she also knew that she loved him since she was sixteen years old. That bone-deep fact never changed, regardless of how angry she was with him.

Gently clasping her hips in his large hands, Angel pushed her backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed. He motioned for her to sit. Buffy complied, seating herself on the edge of the bed. Angel placed his hands on her knees, urging her thighs apart until he could kneel between them, kissing her once again. Buffy tangled her hands in his hair, rubbing her chest against his, her desire spiraling. One of his hands moved from her knee up her thigh and beyond until it rested lightly on her abdomen. Buffy let out a needful whine as his fingers slowly made their way to the downy hair that covered her sex, barely brushing against her nether lips. Insistently, she pushed her hips forward, pleading for more until he took pity on her and began stroking her in earnest. As his thumb gently circled her clit, two of his other fingers found their way down to her wet sheath and began a languid pattern of insertion and withdrawal. He continued to kiss her deeply, biting gently into her lips and sucking on her tongue in time to the movement of his hands. Gradually he increased the pressure with his thumb until Buffy was just at the edge of orgasm, whimpering uncontrollably. When she was almost ready to tip over, he withdrew completely.

Blinking rapidly, Buffy pulled back and looked at him in confusion. "Lie back on the bed," he commanded quietly. Buffy complied wordlessly, trusting him completely. When she was lying on the bed, Angel lifted her legs over his shoulders and slowly bent his head to her wetness. He inhaled deeply. Her scent was incredible, exactly as he remembered it from the night of her seventeenth birthday. The light was dim, the only illumination coming from the moonlight streaming though the windows, but he could see her curls glistening with her moisture. She was swollen and hungry for him.

Spreading her lips gently with his thumbs, he licked her thoroughly in one luxurious stroke of his tongue. Buffy moaned aloud at the sensation, her hips coming off the bed in search of contact. Angel smiled, and used his hands to hold her hips down as he buried his face in her, sucking forcefully at her aroused clit. She was so primed she came almost immediately. He continued to suckle at her as she recovered from the force of her release.

As her breathing returned to normal, he lowered her feet back to the floor and urged her farther up on the bed. She pulled at his forearms with needy abandon, longing to feel his weight pressing her into the mattress. He crawled up her body until her hips cradled his own and kissed her deeply. She reveled in the taste of herself on her mate's lips. It had indeed been too long.

She languidly traced the backs of his legs with her toes as her desire began to build again. He kissed her for long moments, gently caressing her face, whispering to her how beautiful, desirable, powerful, wonderful she was. He told her she was a goddess and she had no doubt he meant it completely. When the hunger was too great, she began to beg, "Please, Angel."

He silenced her with a kiss and reached for his wallet on the nightstand. He stared down into her confused face and a smile played at his lips. "Protection," he said quietly.

The thought hit Buffy with the force of a freight train. Angel was alive, human, virile, potent. Without proper precautions, this interlude could lead to a multitude of things from a STD to a … child. Buffy was in her early forties, but she was still physically able to bear children. She nodded quietly as he took the small wrapper out of his wallet and tore open the package. The ease with which he donned the condom spoke volumes in and of itself, especially considering the fact that this particular method of contraception was not in existence the last time he was a sexually active human.

Buffy gave a fleeting thought to all of the meaningless sexual encounters he used over the years to assuage the emptiness in his life. She tenderly cupped his cheek with her hand and he turned into the contact, kissing her palm wetly with a huge smile. She returned his grin. He looked so happy. She knew without having to ask that he had never allowed this level of intimacy with any of his myriad of sexual partners. There was a vulnerability in his joy that was hers and hers alone.

As he shifted the weight of his upper body onto his forearms and positioned himself at her entrance, Buffy raised her knees, spreading them as far as she could, allowing him total access to her body. He kissed her once more and whispered his love for her, as he slid inside her welcoming body. They both moaned at the sensation as he filled her. When he was sheathed to the root, he rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting raggedly. "Gods, Buffy," he hissed, "you feel so good."

She couldn't answer, she was beyond words. She whimpered and clenched her internal muscles around his invading flesh until he too whimpered and began to thrust deep within her. He moved in deep, forceful strokes, delighting in her moans of pleasure. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck as he did his best to please her thoroughly.

Turning her head to the side, Buffy allowed him access to the creamy smooth column of her neck. It was an unconscious display of vampiric submission she learned from him more than a quarter of a century before. Angel was not a vampire. He had not been a vampire for a very long time, but watching her supplication raised his arousal to a fever pitch. He had a thing for women's necks, Buffy's in particular. He kissed slowly down to the juncture of her shoulder, to the place where her body still bore his brand. He laved the raised flesh with his tongue, reveling in her shivers as her fingernails dug into the corded muscle of his back. He sucked forcefully at the scar, pulling the rough skin between his blunt teeth, biting down gently. His bite was not hard enough to hurt her or even break the skin. But as his teeth closed around the brand, Buffy came hard, her internal muscles milking his rigid flesh in delicious waves. Angel couldn't hold back any longer, as her tremors began to recede, he let himself go, coming in deep jerky thrusts of his hips, the tip of his cock bumping against her cervix.

When he was coherent again, he withdrew from his mate's body, sitting up on the bed only long enough to dispose of the condom. Task accomplished, he collapsed on his side next to her, his hands gently playing along her flushed skin, as they both tried to catch their breath. With a smile, she pulled his head to hers and kissed him lightly on the lips. He wrapped an arm possessively around her hips, holding her against his body.

Angel couldn't remember the last time he held a woman after sex. He either passed out or dashed off to take a shower, anything to avoid exactly what he was doing at the moment. It was not, however, all for Buffy's benefit. He needed to be comforted as much as she, reassured that what they shared truly meant something to her.

Buffy was watching him carefully and she had no trouble reading the fear on his face. A small smile crept across her lips. "So," she said lightly, "when are you moving in?"

He looked at her for a long moment and then, with absolute seriousness, answered, "Tomorrow."

 

The End