destructo-girl.com

He lifted his gaze up to the hand-painted sign over the door.

Angelica's Magic Emporium--Occult Treasures and Rare Books.

Angel couldn't stop a smile from curving his lips. Leave it to Buffy to find the perfect niche for herself.

He stood at the window, peering into the softly-lit interior. There were a few customers, tourists from the looks of it, and a young woman behind the counter. Not Buffy. This girl looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen and had sleek black hair cut into a flattering chin-length bob.

Steeling himself, Angel entered the shop.

At the sound of the tinkling door chimes, Whitney looked up from the pile of crystals she was sorting by color. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the handsome man step into the shop. He paused on the threshold, his dark eyes sweeping the room.

Taking a deep breath, Whitney stepped out from behind the counter and started towards him.

"Welcome. My name is Whitney, is there anything I may help...?" Whitney said in greeting, but a sudden cramp twisted her intestines and she stopped, one small hand pressed to her abdomen. "Oh!"

The man frowned and took a step towards her, worry creasing his handsome face. He reached out for her arm and Whitney cried out this time as the pain intensified.

Another customer approached. "Are you all right, dear? Should we call someone for you?"

Whitney shook her head, her gaze fixed on the mysterious man now. She only felt this way when...

Oh my God!

"N-no...I'm...I'll be okay," she whispered.

The man was close enough now to touch her. Whitney straightened with some difficulty and leveled a vicious gaze on the man. "What do you want, demon?" she whispered.

If she hadn't been so frightened and angry she would have laughed at the expression of shock on his face. But, that shock faded to sadness as he backed away.

"I'm terribly sorry for bothering you. I was just looking for the owner of the shop," he said, continuing to retreat towards the door. "My mistake."

As the distance between them increased, the cramps subsided. Whitney glanced uneasily at the still-curious customers. "She...she isn't here tonight. If I can tell her who came to see her...?"

But, the dark-haired man was shaking his head. "No, thank you. I see it was a mistake to come here."

Before Whitney could stop him, he slipped out the door and melted into the throng of early-evening shoppers passing the shop. Walking to the window, Whitney gazed out at the street.

"Dear? Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Whitney plastered a smile on her face and turned to the customer. "Yes, thank you for your concern. Did you wish to purchase that?"

The Bronze had been vacant for nearly three years, the cavernous building falling into disrepair. Angel stared up at the old, converted warehouse, as memories flooded through him, both good and bad.

Cordelia had told him of the massacre that had taken place inside, killing several of the local teenagers and both the owner and two managers. Buffy had been badly injured, suffering a broken arm and one of her own wooden stakes through the shoulder yet was still able to slaughter the dozen or so powerful vampires that had come looking for trouble. The nightclub had remained vacant ever since.

Angel had struggled with potent feelings of guilt after Cordy had shared the story with him. He should have been here, at Buffy's back, protecting her. He remembered his vow, given to Whistler in 1996, that he would help and protect the Slayer from his kind. The vampires.

And, he had failed. Time and time again.

Now it was 2006, seven years after he had bid goodbye to the only woman he would ever love and left Sunnydale forever.

He had finally given her the answer she had sought, breaking her tender heart for the last time...

Looking up at Angel with eyes turned emerald behind a sheen of tears, Buffy waited. Her full bottom lip trembled briefly, only to be caught between perfect white teeth.

"Angel...tell me..."

"No, Buffy, no..."

A sob, soft and torn. "Please..."

"I can't!"

"You can. You have to. It's the only way we can ever move on."

It was the closest to violence Angel had felt since regaining his soul and escaping from Hell. He rounded on the miserable woman in front of him, wanting to slap her.

No.

Kiss her. Hard and long until she admitted the futility of what she was requesting of him.

"Please, Angel...do this one thing for me!"

"No, damnit!"

"Tell me you don't love me anymore."

When he finally gave in, desperate to erase her misery, and told her what she wanted to hear, he wanted to scream from the pain twisting in his gut. Instead of healing her with his words, he saw the last sparkle of life die from her eyes. At that moment, he would have walked out into the midday sun if it would take back his hurtful words.

The words that had finally killed his beautiful Buffy.

"I don't love you anymore..."

Sighing deeply, Angel pushed the memory away. If he had anything to do with it, he was going to make it up to her. Even if it took forever.

Noticing the For Sale sign on the door, Angel committed the phone number to memory and walked away from this haven of grief.

"Something strange happened tonight."

Willow Rosenberg Harris looked up from her laptop computer to gaze at the Slayer. Whitney Barnett was curled up on the sofa, long legs tucked underneath her, looking deceptively relaxed. Willow had known from the moment Whitney had walked into the house after work that something was wrong. She had disappeared upstairs and it was almost an hour before she came back down, gracing her Watcher with her presence.

Xander Harris, Willow's husband and life-long friend, passed the huge bowl of popcorn in his lap to Whitney, never looking up from the television. She took it automatically, popping a few kernels into her mouth. Willow waited patiently. No one hurried Whitney. No one forced Whitney to do anything. When she was ready to tell her story, she would.

Willow didn't have to wait long.

"It was about seven-thirty or so, there were a couple of customers in the shop and I was sorting through some new stock," the young Slayer said, her eyes fastened on the television. "A man came in."

The fine hair on the back of Willow's neck prickled. Whitney wasn't easily flappable, but the expression in her bright blue eyes was anxious. Something had spooked her.

"I approached him, asked if I could help him, and as I got closer, I got the cramps, sudden. Really bad. Like I get when I'm near vamps."

Xander and Willow exchanged a look. "Well, that isn't too weird. Vamps come into the store on occasion, Buffy calls 'em curiosity seekers," Xander said, smiling nervously.

"He was different, Xand. Really handsome. No. Really very handsome. And he looked lost, confused," Whitney continued. "I was doubled over and the other customers were freaking and he was all concerned. He asked if I was all right."

"A polite vampire. Imagine that," Xander joked. He sobered up when Willow sent him a quelling look.

"I asked him what he wanted and he said he was looking for the owner of the shop. He didn't specifically mention Buffy, but..."

Willow shut off her computer and laid it aside. "What did he look like, Whitney?"

Despite herself, Whitney blushed. "Fantastic, for a vampire. Tall, dark, and drop-dead gorgeous. Forgive the pun."

Willow sighed and met Xander's knowing look. She had known it would only be a matter of time before Angel came back to Sunnydale.

And back into their lives.

Both lost in their own thoughts, Willow and Xander missed Whitney's next words.

"... kill him? I can, you know, no prob."

"What? I'm sorry, Whitney, but what did you say?" Willow asked, focusing on her young charge.

Whitney smirked. "Dust him. Make Mr. Handsome Vampire a thing of the past. Can I?"

Getting up from the couch, Xander laughed humorlessly. "Not unless you want Buffy to beat you to a bloody pulp. My advice? Stay far away from Dead Boy."

"Dead Boy? Huh?"

Willow sighed as Xander left the room. "That was Angel."

"Oh. Oh! Angel. As in Angelus, Buffy's ex-boyfriend vampire."

"One and the same. At least, I'm assuming it is. I'll have to see him first," Willow said. She rested her head against the back of the chair, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "This is isn't good... "

Whitney leaned forward, concerned. "Do you want me to go fix you some tea? I think you still have some of that stuff you mixed up yourself, the tension-relieving stuff."

"Thank you, Whitney, that would be nice."

As the young Slayer hurried into the kitchen, Willow rubbed her temples and winced in pain.

Just as Buffy was beginning to find peace in her life, a little happiness, Willow thought, dismayed at the turn of events.

Angel coming back to Sunnydale would bring nothing but heartache.

By the end of the week, Angel had purchased the old warehouse that had housed the Bronze. He paid cash, to the avaricious amazement of the real estate agent and Sunnydale Bank and Trust. With his mind whirling with plans for the club, he moved back into the mansion on Crawford Street.

Although he had acquired the neoclassic stone edifice years ago, while under the control of the demon Angelus, he still liked the imposing and mysterious house.

A little redecoration was in order, though.

He found himself missing Cordelia. She would know just how to whip the place into shape. And the Bronze, as well. He wondered if he should call her, see if he could lure her back to Sunnydale.

Standing in front of the huge, empty fireplace, his mind's eye replaying scenes from his final moments with Buffy, Angel let himself be swept into the past. Closing his eyes, he could still recall the smell of her tears as they slid over her pale cheeks. Her eyes, full of grief, had glittered in the firelight, speckles of gold dancing in the emerald depths. She had smiled faintly when he had spoken those fateful words...

"It's for the best, you know..."

Angel looked at her, disbelieving. "I don't see how."

"You always said you wished I could find someone to make me happy. This way, I can."

Angel stared at her, his heart and mind rebelling at the thought of another man's hands on her.

Maybe, you can, my love, but what about me? he had whispered to himself.

"What about me?"

He jerked, startled that he had spoken out loud. Shaking his head, more than a little disturbed by his dark thoughts, Angel walked away to survey the rest of the house.

Surprisingly, it was in good shape. In desperate need of a thorough cleaning and some stylish furniture, but otherwise livable.

Cordelia would have a ball with this place.

That is, is he could just get her back to Sunnydale.

"Don't you think we should warn her?" Xander asked, as he lay next to Willow in their queen-sized bed. He had always joked that they didn't need a bed as big as this since they always ended up entwined in each other's arms by morning anyway.

Willow sighed and pushed her damp hair out of her eyes. "Damn, it's hot. I think it's time we turned on the air conditioner."

"Will, don't evade the question."

"I don't know, Xander. She's... well, she's happy. For the first time in years and I hate to see that glow go out of her eyes again," Willow said, turning on her side to face her husband. She smiled fondly and reached up to brush at his dark hair.

"She's gonna find out."

"Maybe he's just in town for a couple of days. Knowing Angel, he'll lurk around for a day or two, then go away," Willow said, although she didn't believe a word she was saying.

"Yeah, right. More like, he's gonna lurk around for a day or two, get one look at Buffy and fall madly into obsession again," Xander countered, his hand grasping Willow's. Her fingers tightened around his. "I can tell you one thing, I'm not happy about this. Not at all."

Willow shifted, kicking the sheet off of her bare legs. "Ohhh, you're right, I know you're right, but...this is just gonna be a big ole potential mess. I can feel it in my bones."

"We have to tell her, Will."

Willow nodded and snuggled closer to Xander, pulling his arms around her slender body, all thoughts of the sticky temperature fading away as a different kind of heat filled her. "We will. She'll be back from LA on Sunday. We'll tell her then."

Xander smiled and kissed her, lightly at first, then with growing passion.

"We? Did I say we? I think this is a one-woman job."

"Mmmm... chicken. Oooh, kiss me there again... "

"I'm not moving back to the Hellmouth, Angel. There isn't enough money in the universe."

Angel shifted the cordless phone to his other ear as he sorted through the contractors' bids. "Come on, Cordelia. You said yourself you missed it."

An unladylike snort reached his ears. "Right. I said, I missed Sunnydale, pre-Hellmouth Sunnydale, when I was, like, ten. No."

"I bought the Bronze. I thought you'd like to have a shot at decorating it," Angel said, hoping to entice her.

"I heard you the first three times. So, are you going to start up with Buffy again?"

Cordelia's typically tactless remark took him by surprise. "I... uh... I haven't even seen her... I don't think it would be wise... "

"Does she know you're there? Did you go to the shop?"

"Yes, and she wasn't there. There was a girl there, young, dark-haired... "

"The Slayer? Whitney?"

"I think so, yeah. She freaked out when she saw me."

He heard Cordelia sigh and he wondered if she was wavering. "Look, it wouldn't be permanent, Cordy. Six months. I'll pay you very well."

"Six months? It's not going to take six months to decorate the Bronze."

"I'm hoping you'll do the mansion too."

"The mansion? You're moving back into that creepy place? It doesn't even have a pool."

"We'll put one in. Come on, Cordy. Six months. I promise."

A long-suffering sigh preceded Cordelia's answer. "Okay. I have a distinct feeling that I'm gonna regret this."

Angel grinned in triumph. "I'll wire an advance to your account."

"Thanks. And send me a plane ticket. First Class. It's the least you could do."

"You're on, Miss Chase, interior designer extraordinaire."

"Bite me. Well, not literally."

As Angel put the phone down, he smiled to himself. Cordelia Chase was a softy at heart, under her carefully cultivated bitchy exterior.

If someone had told him years ago that she would become one of his closest friends, he would never have believed it.

By the time Sunday rolled around, Willow was a nervous wreck. Of course, it didn't help that she had switched back to regular coffee after an unsuccessful stab at drinking decaf. So here she was, a nervous, jittery mess. Twice in as many days, she had snapped at Xander for some imagined infraction. Then, last night, she had grounded Whitney for not studying before sending her on patrol, telling the young Slayer that she was shirking her chosen duty. The teenager had responded only with a roll of her eyes and a snide, "Somebody's PMSing," before flouncing out of the house. Some Watcher she was turning out to be. Hell, Cordelia could have done a better job.

Massaging her temples, Willow stared at the telephone, trying to get up the nerve to call Buffy. She had called late the night before, speaking to Xander, but Willow had waved her hands and shook her head in desperation when he had tried to give the phone to her. Finally, with a scowl, Xander had told Buffy that Willow had went to bed with a headache and he would have her call in the morning.

And, here she was, staring at the telephone as if it were about to grow three heads and bite her fingers off. Which wasn't too farfetched, seeing as how she lived on the Hellmouth. Laying her hand on the cool, white plastic, Willow sighed.

"How hard can it be, Will? You just pick up the receiver and dial her number and say hi, would you like to go to lunch, oh, and by the by, your ex is in town!" Willow snatched her hand back and glared at the offending appliance. "Oh, yeah! That's the thing to say! 'Hey, Buffy, Angel broke your heart into a million tiny pieces and now he's back in Sunnydale to finish the job!' Real tactful, Harris. I mean, Rosenberg-Harris. Oh, no, I don't. I wrote Mrs. Willow Harris in too damned many notebooks in junior high to go back on it now... "

"That's what I love about you, Will. You even babble when you talk to yourself," spoke an amused voice from the back door behind her.

With a squeak of surprise, Willow spun around and gaped at the lovely blonde standing in the doorway.

"Buffy!"

Cordelia Chase stepped out of the limousine and shielded her eyes against the brilliant Southern California sun. She offered a silent thank you to herself for remembering to put on sunblock. Spending the last few years in New York City had paled her skin and she certainly didn't want to begin her six-month stay in Sunnydale with a sunburn.

After tipping the driver, she walked into the Grant Street Inn, a quaint and lovely hotel that had been around since the twenties. The desk clerk looked up as she breezed in. He smiled at the beautiful brunette.

"Welcome to Grant Street Inn. May I help you?"

Cordelia placed her Chanel purse on the ornate mahogany desk and smiled. "I believe you have a reservation for Cordelia Chase."

His demeanor shifted subtly, becoming much more deferential. "Yes, of course, Miss Chase. We've been expecting you. Mr. McKellan left detailed instructions for your stay with us." He turned away for a moment, taking a key and an envelope from a cubbyhole in the wall behind him.

The limo driver had finished bringing in Cordelia's extensive set of matching Louis Vuittan luggage. The desk clerk, whose nametag read 'Kevin', placed a registration form in front of her. "If you would be so kind as to fill this out--just the gray shaded areas--I'll call for a porter."

"Miss Chase? Will there be anything else?"

She turned to the driver. "No, thank you, Darrell. I believe I'll be renting a car during my hopefully short stay here in Sunnydale. I don't suppose... ?"

"I'd be happy to arrange it, Miss Chase. What kind of car would you prefer?"

"A Mercedes. Convertible. Red. And, Darrell?" Cordelia pressed a fifty in the driver's hand. "Thank you."

He smiled at her. "Anytime, Miss Chase. Anytime at all."

"Well, thank you for waiting, Miss Chase. Andrew here will escort you to the Rose Suite. And, Mr. McKellan left this message for you," Kevin said as he returned to the desk.

"Thank you." Cordelia took the envelope, recognizing Angel's smooth, curving script on the outside.

"And, may I say, Miss Chase, it is an honor to have a designer of your repute here in our lovely town. If I'm not mistaken, you grew up here in Sunnydale?"

"Yes, I did. It seems like a long time ago," Cordelia said as she watched the porter load her luggage onto a rolling cart.

"It couldn't have been very long ago; you don't look a day over eighteen."

Cordelia leveled her most intimidating gaze on the clerk and his flirtatious smile faded. He nodded briskly and returned to his post. "If there's anything I can do for you... ?"

"I'll let you know, Kevin. Thank you very much."

"My pleasure."

It was all Cordelia could do not to gag as she followed the porter to the elevator. Ass kissing got real old, real quick.

Just once, she'd like to hear Xander tell her to get off her ass and do something useful, instead of bitching and whining.

She missed the old days.

"Well, I'm here. I hope you're satisfied."

Angel lay back against the sofa cushions, chuckling at the rancor in Cordelia's voice. "Did you get settled in okay? Are the accommodations to your satisfaction?"

He could almost hear her soften over the phone. "Yes. As usual, you've thought of everything. I did decide to rent a car, though. The limo is a little... well... obvious."

"I'll reimburse you. I can count it as a business expense."

Cordelia laughed. "Angel, you have so much money hidden so damn well, why would you even want to pay income tax?"

"It's the right thing to do, Cordy."

"Of course it is. Give all your millions to the government so they can spend it on five-hundred dollar toilet seats."

Angel was staring into the fireplace, now filled with red-orange flames. "Have you made dinner plans?"

"No. Well, I had a banana out of the fruit basket, if that counts."

"I'll pick you up at eight-thirty. There's a nice seafood place down by the wharf now," Angel said. "Then, if you'd like, we can stop by the warehouse. The contractor start tomorrow."

"Sounds great. So, have you seen her yet?"

Angel winced. The very thought of Buffy was like pouring holy water onto his skin. "No. I think she must've been out of town. She does definitely own Angelica's, though. One of the contractors is married to the florist next door."

"That's Sunnydale for you. Small Town, USA. With an evil twist."

"I'll see you later, Cordy."

"Bye, Angel."

The expression of terror on Willow's face was almost comical. She looked at Buffy with wide, hazel eyes, wringing her hands together like a nervous bride. "Will, are you okay?"

"Um... yeah! Yeah, just peachy, you know me..."

Buffy Summers, the only Vampire Slayer to live long enough to retire, smiled indulgently at her best friend. She closed the door behind her and shrugged out of her thin sweater.

"Nice dress, Buff. Is it new?" Willow winced inwardly as she heard her high-pitched, trembling voice.

She's gonna know something's wrong, Harris!

Taking a deep breath even as she flushed crimson under Buffy's suspicious gaze, Willow forced herself to relax. She plastered a smile on her face and walked over to the coffeepot. "Can I get you some coffee?"

Buffy sat down at the kitchen table and shook her head. "No and I don't think you need any either. Come sit down."

She must not have heard what I was saying when I was talking to myself, Willow thought and she relaxed with the knowledge that she still was in control of the situation.

Willow joined her, smoothing her damp palms over the legs of her denim shorts. "So, how was LA? Did you see your dad?"

Buffy grimaced. "Yeah. I don't know, Will, it seems like the longer we go between visits, the more strained they become. He was all mushy-eyed over Britney, though."

"Oh, his new wife. What's she like?"

"Young. Like, our age. She's nice enough, I guess, but it's still weird to know that my 50-year-old father is sleeping with someone who was in kindergarten the same year I was."

Willow smiled, visibly calming. "Has your mom spoken to him since they got married?"

"Are you joking? She's convinced he's going through male menopause or something. I'm just glad she's got Giles. At least, he's in the same age bracket."

As Buffy reached up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, Willow's gaze fell on the modest diamond twinkling on her left hand. "You got your ring back from the jeweler's!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah. Ben picked it up for me. Which reminds me, I found a dress!"

As Buffy picked up her purse and began to rummage through it, Willow felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach return and she felt almost nauseous.

Pulling out some pages torn from a magazine, Buffy smoothed them flat on the tabletop. The top picture was of an ornately beaded wedding dress.

"Do you like? I found it at this little shop in the Valley. Vivienne's Bridal and Formalwear," Buffy pushed the picture over to Willow with a nudge of her fingertips.

Willow stared at the gown and, although it was gorgeous, it didn't really look like something Buffy would've picked out. "I-it's... pretty. Really! It's... bedecked... you know... with jewels," she stammered.

Buffy's smile faded and Willow could've kicked herself into next week. "Oh! Buffy! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult your choice, really, I didn't! It's beautiful! You'll be absolutely beautiful in it."

"Ben's mom, well, she really liked it. She has a certain vision of how she wants the wedding to look... " Buffy said, running her fingertips over the glossy page.

Willow reached over and covered Buffy's hand with her own. "But, Buffy, it's your wedding. Yours and Ben's. How do you want it to look?"

A wistful look softened Buffy's green eyes and Willow didn't need to be psychic to know just who it was she was picturing in her head and it wasn't Ben Davidson. "I always wanted a nighttime wedding, with lots and lots of candles, or maybe on the beach, during the full moon."

Willow smiled. She had heard this fantasy years ago. "Oz couldn't have come," she said, referring to her old boyfriend, who had happened to be a werewolf.

Buffy smiled. "We'd just have to put him on a leash."

"But, he'd be howling at the moon."

"Wasn't it in that old Dracula movie where Bela Lugosi said, 'the children of the night, what music they make'?" Buffy asked. "Oz would be our orchestra. Instead, we're having a twenty-piece string section at the reception."

"Buffy, you just need to tell her... "

"Will, you don't tell Gloria Davidson anything. She does what she wants, when she wants, how she wants. That's what money can buy."

"You need to tell Ben... "

Getting to her feet, Buffy stuffed the picture of the wedding dress back into her purse. "I know. I will. Look, I'm going to run over to the shop, I'll call later, okay?"

Willow started to panic again, realizing her opportunity to tell Buffy about Angel was slipping away. She jumped to her feet, sending the chair sliding across the tile floor. "But, Buffy! I thought we'd have lunch!"

"Maybe tomorrow. I have a lot to do and I still want to stop by the library and see Giles. Tomorrow, promise?"

Willow was still protesting weakly as Buffy gave her a quick hug, then left.

"Well, fuck!" Willow whispered to herself.

Buffy blinked back tears of hurt as she drove to the shop. She knew Willow hadn't meant to be rude about the dress and, deep down, she knew that the redhead was right. The flamboyant wedding gown was nothing like she had wanted. But, Gloria Davidson was determined to make the wedding between Buffy and her son Benjamin the largest, splashiest society gala on the entire West Coast.

She would have what she wanted, no matter the cost, monetary or otherwise.

In the beginning, Buffy had been thrilled, excited that Ben's mother seemed to like her and wanted to pay for the wedding. But, as the months wore on and the tension mounted between the bride-to-be and her future mother-in-law, Buffy found herself struggling with almost-daily headaches and she couldn't be in the same room with Ben without an argument breaking out.

Her most recent trip to LA had gone so badly that Buffy had cried herself to sleep every single night. Ben, disgusted with her and unable to see the trauma his mother was causing, had finally asked her to go home. Shaken and hurt, Buffy had packed her suitcase and fled for the comfort of Sunnydale.

Stopping the car at a red light, Buffy couldn't resist a tiny laugh. Funny, being able to think of Sunnydale as not only home, but comfortable as well. Yet, ever since Willow and Giles had managed to neutralize the Hellmouth after the Ascension and Buffy had officially been offered an unheard-of retirement by the Council, Sunnydale had truly become her home. Of course, the closure of the Hellmouth hadn't stopped Sunnydale from being a Mecca for the undead and it hadn't stopped the need for a Slayer, but Buffy could relax, for the first time in years.

Turning on Main Street, Buffy parked her red Honda Prelude a few doors down from Angelica's. It was just a little after eleven; Jennifer would be working and the quiet girl wouldn't want to chat her ear off for an hour like Whitney was prone to do.

There were a couple of customers in the shop, tourists probably, and a tall, lanky girl behind the counter. "Morning, Jennifer."

"Hi, Ms. Summers, did you have a nice time in LA?" Jennifer asked as she carefully placed fresh sticks of incense in the display on the counter.

Buffy faked a bright smile. "It was great, thank you. We got a lot accomplished on the wedding."

"That's good. I'll bet it's going to be gorgeous," the girl said wistfully, her brown eyes going dreamy.

Buffy nodded. "It'll be something. Business good?"

"Yeah, it was fine. You know, the Fourth Street Arts and Crafts Bazaar was this weekend and we got a big turnout from that. Whitney did kind of a quick and dirty inventory; she could tell you more about it."

"I didn't see her at Willow's. I'll check later."

Jennifer smiled as one of the customers walked up. As she took care of the sale, Buffy walked back to her tiny office, sinking down in the comfortable chair.

"Hey, Ms. Summers? I think Whitney was going to study at the library all day. At least, that's what she said," Jennifer said, poking her head around the corner of the office.

"Thanks, Jen."

Buffy sighed and closed her eyes tiredly. When she opened them, her gaze fell on the stack of mail laying on the desk, including the Sunnydale Press. Picking up the newspaper, she scanned the front page. Nothing too earth shattering; City Council meeting on rural zoning, the unseasonably hot weather, three unexplained murders, planned renovation of the Bronze...

Laying the paper back down, Buffy picked up her purse and keys and walked back into the shop. "Jen, I'm going to the library. If my mom should happen to call, could you tell her where I am?"

"Sure thing. Hey! That book that Mr. Giles wanted is on backorder; could you tell him? I haven't had a chance to call."

"Which one was it again?"

Jennifer looked down at the order form that she had pulled out of a binder. "Um, let's see... Beckett's Guide to the Seventh Dimension. He has really odd tastes in reading material, doesn't he?"

Buffy couldn't resist a fond smile. "Yeah, he does. He really does. I'll tell him."

"You're lazy."

"And you aren't my Watcher!" Whitney spat, her naturally quick temper snapping. She glared at the older man, finally looking away when she saw that he wasn't going to budge an inch.

"I'll have you know, young lady, that I am too your Watcher. Willow Harris is an apprentice. A very good one, but still an apprentice. Now, before I lose my famous unflappable calm, you will continue with your kickboxing."

Whitney wiped her damp face with a towel, then threw it at him. "Bite me."

"Thank you, no. Fifteen more minutes and maybe I'll consider letting you go to the football game."

Letting her pent-up anger explode, Whitney began her workout again, her feet and hands a blur of precision motion. Taking a seat at the research table, Rupert Giles picked up his teacup and smiled.

"You were never this mean to me."

Startled, Giles set the cup down before he could spill the steaming contents. "Buffy! You're back! Sit down, my dear, sit down. May I get you a cup of tea?"

Buffy took a seat across from the man who had been her Watcher since she was sixteen and her stepfather for the past four years. "It's over 95 degrees out there and you're drinking tea? Giles, that's so very British of you. Have we taught you nothing?"

He smirked at her sarcasm. "Laugh at will, young lady. When you get to be my age, you'll be thankful for a spot of tea to warm your tired, aching bones."

Whitney paused in her vicious pummeling of her workout dummy. "Your age! That's a crock! What are you? Like forty-five? Hey, Buffy!"

"Whitney. You have some good moves there."

"Thanks." She flopped down in a nearby chair, glaring at Giles when he gave her a disapproving look. "Maybe you'll go out on patrol with me tomorrow night? We can do the Half-Dozen Cemetery Tour, then move on to the Docks o' Doom."

Giles broke in. "What's this tomorrow night? I think you'll have plenty to occupy your thoughts and fists tonight."

"Gi-iles! Come on, Sunnydale's playing Santa Carla tonight! It's a HUGE game and everyone's going to be there! Buffy, tell him, will you?" Whitney cried, giving Buffy a pleading look.

Buffy smiled as memories of her own battles for independence filled her head. "Come on, Giles, it's Santa Carla, have some pity."

With a shake of his graying head, Giles snorted. "Go, then! If all of Sunnydale should fall into the pits of Hell while you're off making puppy eyes at Derrick Holmes, it'll be on your head."

With a squeal, Whitney jumped up and threw her arms around her Watcher. "I've gotta go then!"

Giles looked up at the clock over the check-out desk. "Now? It's only noon!"

Whitney gathered up her things and sprinted for the door. "I know! I'm going to have just enough time to get ready!"

Slayer and Watcher smiled as the young girl disappeared through the swinging doors. "When does the game start?" Buffy asked.

"Not until 7:30 this evening. She's lazy."

"She's sixteen, Giles."

His gaze softened as he smiled at his Slayer, the woman he would always think of as his true Slayer. "Yes. You were sixteen once and, as I seem to recall, we had more than one of these kinds of battles."

"She's trying so hard to make her lives fit together. At least Whitney had the benefit of being trained from a child, like Kendra."

"I don't necessarily believe that's always a good thing, you know. She's made a lot of bad habits that are proving a devil to break," Giles said as he picked up his now empty teacup and took it into his office. Buffy followed him, flopping down into a chair while he busied himself making a fresh cup.

"Giles? I need to tell you something."

Sitting down at his desk, Giles looked at the beautiful young woman. As always, his heart ached to see the constant pain that simmered just below the surface. Buffy had never recovered from Angel's departure and he had so hoped that her meeting Ben and falling in love would erase some measure of that hurt.

But, looking into her jade-green eyes, seeing the crystal tears that glimmered on her lashes, he knew that nothing would ever mend her broken heart.

"What is it, Buffy?" he asked gently, reaching out to take her tiny hand in his own.

His familiar, fatherly touch broke down the barriers that she had erected to cope with the nightmarish wedding plans. "I can't do it!" she sobbed, tumbling forward from her seat to fall into his arms.

Giles soothed her with whispered words and gentle pats. "Can't do what?"

"I can't go through with this wedding! She's driving me insane! Nothing, Giles, nothing is good enough! She wants me to dye my hair! And... and serve goose-liver pat�!"

"What's wrong with your hair? It's beautiful."

Buffy sniffled and wiped her flushed face. "She says it's too blonde, which, for Gloria, translates to too trashy. She's scared to death that I'm going to prove her right. That I'm not good enough for her precious son!"

Handing Buffy his clean handkerchief, Giles smiled gently. "Is that all?"

"No! She wants an orchestra. She wants imported Belgian white chocolate frosting on the cake. She wants me to get baptized again because she doesn't believe me when I tell her I really was raised Catholic!"

"Buffy, future mother-in-laws are never... "

"She picked out my wedding dress, Giles." Holding out her slender left hand, she smiled grimly. "She had the setting on my ring redesigned. Ben and I picked out my ring together and it doesn't even look the same."

Giles looked down at the ring. Buffy had picked out a medium sized diamond in a modest platinum setting. Now, the diamond was surrounded by more than a dozen additional diamonds in an ornate, filigreed setting. It was, to say the least, noticeable.

He sighed. "You and Ben need to sit down and talk this out, Buffy. For two people in love, these kind of problems can... "

"I don't."

"Pardon?"

Buffy's eyes filled with tears again. "I don't love him. I never did."

Sitting back in his chair, Giles stared at her in shock. "Buffy, you and Ben have been engaged for nearly a year. You've been together for over two years! You're just angry... "

"No! Giles, I never loved him, ever! I started dating him because I was lonely and Willow kept telling me that I needed to start living again." Rising to her feet, she paced the small office like a tiger in a cage. "But, it isn't love. I'll only ever love one man."

Sadness filled the librarian. "Buffy, what you had with Angel... "

"Was for eternity. Forever. I'd rather be alone than spend the rest of my life with a man who makes my skin crawl every time he touches me."

"Forever is a very long time."

She smiled, her eyes slightly manic. "It didn't seem so long when I was seventeen and I thought my life expectancy was only another five years or so. But, if I marry Ben, forever will be a very, very long time."

Giles stood and crossed the room to her, gathering her in his arms. "Then, you must tell him immediately, before it's too late."

"I'm scared."

A laugh rumbled through his chest. "Buffy Anne Summers, you've faced some of the most terrifying creatures Hell could spit at you and you're scared of telling Ben you don't want to marry him?"

She relaxed in his embrace and looked up, a glimmer of amusement sparkling in the emerald depths. "Not Ben, his mother."

The sun had just slid past the horizon, bathing Sunnydale in glorious shades of red and gold and bringing a slight chill to the air. Cordelia draped a black cashmere cardigan over her shoulders and smiled blandly at the two young bellhops who watched her with something akin to worship. She walked to the door and peered out right as Angel's black Mercedes convertible swerved up to the curb.

The young designer walked out onto the sidewalk, giving the vampire a peevish glare, just for the hell of it. "You're late," she said as she waited for him to exit the car and open her door for her.

Angel just grinned and held the passenger door for her as she got in the car. Cordelia smiled to herself as she settled back into the plush leather upholstery. Actually, Angel was no fun to torment with her patented bitching; he would just smile and let her rant, affection glimmering in his dark eyes.

As he got back in the car, Cordelia's smile took a wistful slant. Try as she might, she had never been able to capture Angel's heart. In the length of time they had been friends, after both had left Sunnydale, his devotion to Buffy Summers had never wavered. Never so much as faltered.

Cordelia believed with all of her heart that he would rather walk right into the sun before he would give up his love for the blonde Slayer.

A small part of Cordelia, the high school, May Queen part of her psyche, despised Buffy for it. She had broken Angel's heart when she had sent him away from Sunnydale; even though he had gone, albeit willingly, he had left behind all of his hopes, all of his dreams of a life with her. All because she couldn't handle his past transgressions when the demon had ruled him.

Buffy's morality, almost sickeningly superior, had gotten in the way of her true happiness and, if rumors were anything to be believed, that happiness still eluded her.

And, Cordelia couldn't help but smile a little smile of satisfaction at the thought of her sometime friend, sometime nemesis' misery.

"I made reservations at Jeremiah's. How does that sound?" Angel asked as he turned west onto Main Street. As the Mercedes reached the intersection at Fifteenth Street, it crested a small hill and Cordelia could see a glimpse of the ocean in the distance, shimmering silver in the glow of the rising moon. A pang of homesickness filled her and she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.

"Cordy?"

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she faced Angel's concerned glance. "That's fine. I hear that Jeremiah's is a very good restaurant."

"Is something wrong? You're quiet."

"Just reminiscing about the old days. Thinking about how much I don't miss this place."

Angel grinned, fleetingly. "Oh, come on! You mean you don't miss all of the demons and prophecies and end-of-the-world threats?"

"I don't. Well, sometimes, I miss the people. You know."

She hadn't meant for the sentence to come out sounding so nostalgic. Seeking to cover up her faux pas, she tossed her long, sable-dark hair and grinned. "Don't get me wrong! It's not like I'm missing Xander or Willow or Giles, it's just that... well, I miss my school friends."

Even to her own ears, the protest sounded hollow. She grimaced, thinking that not two minutes ago, she was taking delight in Buffy's supposed sorrow and now, she was missing her and all of the Hellmouth baggage that came with her.

"You can't let it go, either." Angel laughed bitterly. "You miss them. Even Buffy."

"You read minds on your day off?"

He glanced at her as he pulled the Mercedes into a crowded parking lot outside of an elegant brick establishment. "It's a drug, a curse. Sunnydale, for all of its quaint beauty and it's hidden terrors, is home. For both of us."

Cordelia looked at him. "You really know how to ruin a girl's appetite."

The chagrin on Angel's face was genuine. "I'm sorry, Cordy. It's just that... well, what if I'm too late?"

"You mean what if Buffy no longer loves you?"

Angel nodded slowly, his hands tightening on the black leather steering wheel. "Maybe she loves this guy, this Ben. Maybe she wants to marry him. I shouldn't have come back... "

There were a lot of things that Cordelia would put up with out of the melancholy vampire, but self-pity wasn't one of them. With a roll of her brown eyes and an unladylike snort, she opened the door and got out. "Angel, I'm not listening to this. You've invested a lot of your money and a lot of my time coming back to this burg and you aren't giving up now. You want Buffy back?"

He merely looked at her, his eyes glittering in the dusky light. "You know I do."

"Then, let's get her back. Show her that you can finally be the man she needs you to be."

Angel sighed and looked out over the dark expanse of the Pacific. He knew that Cordelia was right. He had come home to Sunnydale to claim Buffy as his, to show her that he couldn't live without her.

When Cordelia had informed him that she had heard from her mother that Buffy was marrying Ben Davidson, a classmate from Sunnydale High and the son of wealthy socialites, Michael and Gloria Davidson, Angel had felt as if his dead heart was splintering into a million shards of pain. His Buffy, the young girl he had fallen in love with when she was a mere fifteen years old, walking down the steps of her high school in Los Angeles.

The only woman he had ever loved in all of his two and a half centuries of unlife.

If she walked down the aisle with that boy, Angel knew without a doubt that he would walk into the sunlight and end his own worthless existence.

He had to prove to her that they belonged together.

Meeting Cordelia's forthright gaze, Angel smiled. "You're right. As usual. Come on, you must be famished."

She took his outstretched arm and together they walked into the restaurant.

"I've been wanting to try this place. The Sunnydale Press gave it a five-star rating," Joyce Summers-Giles said as her husband deftly pulled the maroon Ford Expedition into a parking spot. She looked around the seat to smile at her preoccupied daughter. "Jeremiah's is supposed to be the best seafood place on the entire West Coast."

Buffy looked out the window at the restaurant. "It looks pretty exclusive."

"Well, Natalie, one of the girls from the gallery, said that the wine list alone was six pages long. And, she loved the garlic marinated tuna steaks," Joyce commented as they exited the Jeep.

Smoothing her silk slip dress over her hips, Buffy wrinkled her nose. "I don't know about that."

Giles pointed the alarm remote at the vehicle and it chirped in response. "I thought you liked seafood, Buffy. We could have went somewhere else."

"I do. I'm just not real keen on garlic. You know, it's a weapon, not a food," she said with a faint smile.

Joyce took Giles' hand and they laced fingers, sharing an affectionate smile. Buffy looked away, vaguely uncomfortable with the display. Although her mother and her Watcher had been married for some time, it still freaked her out sometimes. She was happy that they were happy, but when she was so very unhappy...

Well, it just wasn't fair.

The maitre'd happened to be an acquaintance of Joyce's and he was able to seat them immediately, despite being early for their reservation. As he showed them to a table on the patio, overlooking the ocean, Buffy hung back, her gaze taking in the elegant d�cor.

Deep, cherry-stained hardwood floors were complemented by warm ivory walls and muted brass fixtures. The tables, covered with snowy-white tablecloths, were arranged in small groupings, separated by small, Japanese maple trees. Ceiling fans with matching brass trim hung from the ceiling.

The total effect was one of slightly over the top sophistication.

Pretty, but not really Buffy's cup of tea.

"Are you coming, honey?"

Buffy looked up to see her Joyce smiling at her. "Yeah, I'm coming."

A chill had blown in from the Pacific and Buffy tried to suppress a shiver. Giles immediately noticed and stood, slipping off his blazer. "Here, Buffy, put this around your shoulders. You must be freezing without a sweater."

Smiling gratefully, Buffy tugged the dark charcoal wool over her arms, the lingering heat from his body warming her. "I should've worn something warmer, but I didn't think it would get this chilly."

Joyce sipped her white wine and gave Buffy a reproachful look. "I told you it was supposed to cool off tonight. Do you listen?"

Buffy smiled and reached for her own wineglass. "Do I ever?"

She sipped the slightly bitter liquid, feeling her stomach rebel. She drank seldom and tonight, she had already indulged in three glasses and was starting to feel it. Dinner had been superb, but she was beginning to wonder if the crab souffl� had been too rich for her taste.

Giles and Joyce chatted quietly as Buffy stared out at the water, the lights from the pier sparkling like so many fireflies. Closing her eyes, Buffy felt a twinge of nausea threaten.

Slipping the jacket off, she rose to her feet. Her sudden haste startled her mother and stepfather and they looked up at her.

"Honey, are you okay?" Joyce said as she half-rose to her feet. Buffy waved her back down.

"I'm fine. I just ate too much, I think."

Giles glanced down at Buffy's plate and the picked over souffl�. Never a big eater, Buffy had eaten less than usual tonight, but he had chalked it up to nerves over the wedding. Or soon-to-be lack thereof. "Are you sure, my dear? You look pale."

Buffy nodded, a little too quickly. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Concerned, they watched her weave her around the table, heading for the ladies room.

Buffy lightly splashed her face with cold water, then cupped a handful to rinse out her mouth. With a tremulous sigh, she leaned against the sink, trying to will her rebellious stomach to behave. If she hadn't known better, she'd have worried about pregnancy.

If she had let Ben touch her in the past six months.

Even now, the thought of her fianc� sent a shiver of pain through her. She cared about Ben, loved him even, but the thought of spending the rest of her life with him sent a bolt of terror through her. Even facing the worst demon the Hellmouth had seen fit to toss her way didn't frighten her like a lifetime as Ben Davidson's wife and Gloria Davidson's daughter-in-law did.

A sudden chill left goosebumps on her bare flesh and she took a deep breath as the nausea receded. Looking at herself in the mirror, she grimaced. "God, Summers, you look like something the cat dragged in."

Her normally healthy complexion was pale and tendrils of hair clung damply to her cheeks. Her eyes, glittering feverishly in the fluorescent lighting, were surrounded by purplish circles, making them look bruised.

She tried to pinch a little color in her cheeks, but only succeeded in making them look, well, pinched. With a sigh of resignation, she left the bathroom.

Joyce and Giles were heading her direction and she smiled wanly. "Buffy, you've been sick, haven't you?" her mother said, worry creasing her lovely face.

"I'll be fine. I think I have some kind of bug or something."

"Do you think it was something you ate?" Giles asked, once more draping his jacket over her shoulders.

"No. Look, I just wanna go home and go to bed," Buffy whispered as she leaned into Joyce's ready embrace, feeling like a little girl craving her mother's healing touch.

Giles nodded briskly. "Of course, you should rest."

A large party was being seated so they had to circle around a short dividing wall. Buffy paused as a familiar voice caught her attention. "Wait... "

Backing up a step, she saw her.

Cordelia Chase.

"Oh my god, there's Cordy."

Joyce and Giles followed her gaze. "So it is. I thought she lived in New York?" Joyce asked.

"I thought so too. Hold on, I want to say hi."

Giles touched Joyce's arm. "I'm going to go pull the car around."

"I'll go with you."

Cordelia didn't see the tiny blonde walk up to the table, her view obscured by one of the Japanese maples. So when she heard her name spoken by an unexpected voice she jumped, sloshing champagne from the glass in her hand.

"Cordelia?"

Her eyes widening in shock, Cordelia tried to smile and failed miserably. "Buffy! What a... surprise!"

"I'm here with Giles and Mom and I heard your voice... how have you been?"

"Uh... j-just fine. Fine! You look... well."

Buffy laughed uncomfortably. "I must look horrible. I've not been feeling well." She reached up and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she took in Cordelia's perfect appearance.

Cordelia tried to relax, but she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She risked a glance at Angel, whom Buffy had yet to notice.

The vampire was pressed as far back into the corner as he could get, but his dark eyes were fastened on his former lover, fear and hope reflected in their chocolate depths.

"... back to Sunnydale?"

Cordelia dragged her gaze back to Buffy, realizing that the other woman was still speaking. "Um, well, you see..."

Buffy's cordial smile started to slip as Cordelia's obvious discomfort grew. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal. Here you are with your... " She paused, remembering that she hadn't even acknowledged Cordelia's companion. She turned in Angel's direction, an apologetic smile on her face.

"You must think I'm so rude! I'm Buf... "

Cordelia groaned inwardly as Buffy's voice trailed to a whisper. With a trembling hand, she lifted her wineglass and drained the contents in one gulp.

Angel smiled, his eyes warming as he gazed at his love for the first time in seven years.

"Hello, Buffy."

The room was spinning, colors and smells and sounds intensifying until Buffy felt as if she were trapped in a sensory hurricane. Only one object remained fixed in her blurring sight.

Angel.

Distantly, she heard Cordelia asking her if she were okay, was she going to be sick, did she want to sit down. She opened her mouth to reply, but only a moan issued, as yet another cramp twisted her intestines. She put a hand to her rebellious stomach and blinked back the flood of tears threatening to burst forth.

Angel and Cordelia exchanged a look of concern as Buffy paled to the color of snow. The vampire quickly stood, taking Buffy's arm and guiding her to his chair. "Buffy, you're ill! We should call... "

Buffy shook her head violently, damp tendrils of hair slipping from her French twist. "I-I-I'm... fine. Fine," she replied as she avoided Angel's searching gaze.

"May I be of assistance? Is the young lady ill?"

Cordelia looked up at the maitre'd, smirking inwardly at his anxiety as he glanced nervously at Buffy. "Could we have a glass of water and a wet cloth?"

He nodded tersely and headed for the kitchen.

Angel touched Buffy with trembling hands, his fingers gently tucking her wayward hair behind her ears. This wasn't going as he had hoped. He had intended to ease back into her life, much as he had when he had first met her. "Buffy, are you here alone? Is there someone we can get for you?"

Buffy shrank back from his remembered touch, even as she fought a desire to throw herself into his arms. "Uh... no, I'm fine... "

"I'm so sorry it happened like this, Buffy. I never intended to shock you like this... " he whispered, aware of the curious stares of the other diners. He lay his hand against her cheek, her skin clammy and cool, even to his cold flesh. Buffy winced as if his touch hurt her and he pulled away.

"Why... why are you here?" she asked tremulously.

"I came back for you. I love you, Buffy, and I can't... "

The Slayer's blonde head jerked up and she stared at him with feverish, distrustful eyes. "You came back for me? How dare you!"

The hope on Angel's face slipped and he blinked, feeling the hot well of tears behind his eyes. "Buffy, please, we need to talk. Let me explain."

Buffy jumped to her feet, swaying dizzily. Angel reached for her, but she jerked away, stumbling back into the maitre'd. The man lurched to the side, the glass of water in his hand flying from his grip to shatter on the table. Cordelia squeaked and stepped out of the way of the splashing water and glass.

"You're late!" Buffy cried, her tears spilling over in a torrent. "You're too late! I'm getting married, Angel."

"Buffy, please, let me tell ... "

She shook her head, one hand gripping the low wall behind her. "No! You left me and now it's too late. Too fucking late."

Before Angel or Cordelia could react, Buffy ran from the restaurant, the silent eyes of every person in the room following her.

"I'm going to take Toni with me. Her internship is up in a month and I'd like for her to get one more buying trip in as experience," Joyce said as she hunted through her purse for a mint.

"Has she said whether or not she's going to go on to graduate school?" Giles replied as he glanced at his watch. It had been fifteen minutes since he had pulled the Expedition to the curb in front of the restaurant.

"Her parents want her to, but she... Oh, God."

Giles' head snapped up to look at Joyce's face, the tone of her voice one of surprise. She was looking over his shoulder and he followed her gaze.

Buffy was running for the truck, her face streaming with tears and one arm wrapped around her middle.

He started to get out of the truck, but she opened the back door and climbed in. "Buffy, good Lord, what happened?"

"Drive, Giles," she sobbed as she bent over.

"Honey, were you sick again? Maybe we..."

"Giles, please... "

"But, Buffy, what hap..."

Buffy flung her head up and fixed the librarian with a frantic, tear-drenched face. Her eyes, glittering emerald in the dim light, were filled with pain. "DRIVE, GODDAMNIT!" she screamed.

Without another word, Giles turned around and put the truck into gear and pulled away from the curb. A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Buffy's distress became crystal clear.

Standing outside the restaurant door with Cordelia Chase was Angel, Buffy's former vampire lover. The only man with the power to reduce his strong and confident Slayer to a sobbing, brokenhearted child.

Buffy curled up on the leather seat, each bump the truck hit causing her stomach to twist in agony. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Giles, pull over, I'm gonna be sick."

When the Expedition had pulled onto the shoulder, Buffy crawled to the door and tumbled out. She hit the gravel on her hands and knees, feeling the flesh on her palms tear. She retched helplessly, her emptying her clenching stomach. Digging her fingers into the dusty road, she choked on the sobs building in her throat.

"Oh, honey, it's going to be okay." Joyce knelt down beside her sick daughter, smoothing her lank hair out of her eyes. "Let us take you to the Emergency Room."

"N-no...no hospital... " Buffy grunted as another wave of sickness flowed through her. She convulsed and Joyce held her as she vomited again.

Giles had found a tissue in Joyce's purse and handed it to her. "Buffy, I think you may have food poisoning. We need to get you to the hospital so you don't dehydrate."

"No! Mommy, please... " Buffy whined, struggling to a standing position. Joyce wiped Buffy's mouth with the tissue, then pulled her into a fierce embrace.

"You're burning up, Buffy! No arguments, now. We're going," Joyce stated, as she tried to lead her daughter to the truck.

Buffy, in her delirium, was having none of it. She broke out of Joyce's grasp and started to weave her way down the street. "Nononono... no hospital, not now not ever... "

Giles caught up with her just as Buffy's world turned black and she fainted.

"That went well."

Angel didn't answer. He leaned against the railing and stared out over the dark, still water. The moon was high in the sky now, a full, silver orb shining down on the sleepy town of Sunnydale. Briefly, he wondered what had happened to Willow's old boyfriend, Oz. A werewolf three days out of the month, he'd have to lock himself up during a full moon such as this one.

"Angel, she was just startled. Plus, I think she'd been sick, so she probably wasn't thinking too clearly." Cordelia laid a gentle hand on his arm and he turned to look at the beautiful brunette. She smiled with what was supposed to be reassurance, but the worry in the dark depths of her eyes belied that expression.

"Cordy, she can�t get married. I can't let her marry someone she doesn't love." Angel groaned and buried his face in his hands, then let them slide up into his dark hair.

"I hate to be the voice of reason here because I know how much you want Buffy back, but what if she really does love him? Ben's a nice guy, if I remember correctly, and I'm sure he treats her well." She paused as Angel shot her an angry glance. "Don't get like that, Angel. It's unproductive."

"Fuck unproductive. I want Buffy back. I will get her back."

Cordelia sighed as Angel stalked off. He was so damned obstinate sometimes, it drove her nuts. "Nothing good can come of this. I just know it. God, I hate this town!"

He had gotten into the Mercedes and was waiting for her. As she got back into the car and fastened her seatbelt, she shrugged with typical Cordelia Chase fatalism. "Okay, then. What's your plan?"

Angel smiled mirthlessly as he glanced over at the designer.

"What I did the first time. I'll make her love me again. Even if it's the last thing I do on this earth."

Buffy moaned and opened her eyes. Nausea made her senses swim with dangerous intensity, but she managed to control the urge to vomit. Not that she could have if she'd wanted to; there was nothing left in her stomach to come up except the few sips of water she was able to choke down.

The hospital room was quiet save for the light snores of her mother, dozing in a chair next to the bed. The blinds were pulled, so there was no way to tell what time it was or even if it was daylight. Sitting up, she reached for the glass of warm water on the bedside table and took a tiny sip, testing her stomach's resolve.

A faint cramp, but nothing too alarming. She took a deeper drink, wetting her parched mouth. That didn't sit too well and she briefly doubled over.

"You're awake," a soft voice said. Giles entered the room, carrying a styrofoam cup in one hand.

"Giles. I thought I said no hospital," Buffy groaned as she fell back on the pillows.

He smiled down at her, his eyes shining with affection for his Slayer and stepchild. "You were hardly in any condition to argue. Besides, the doctor said you have a definite case of food poisoning, probably brought on by the seafood dish you ate."

She sighed and smiled faintly. "It tasted okay."

"Some parasites can cause intestinal distress," he said as he sat down in an empty chair. Joyce shifted and murmured in her sleep.

"Intestinal distress. Giles, I've been puking my guts out and you call it 'intestinal distress' "

He smiled at her crass choice of words. "Speaking of which, do you need to?"

Buffy lifted her hand and laid it against her abdomen. She was surprised to see that her right one was bandaged. "I don't think so. What happened here?"

"You cut it on a broken piece of glass when you fell out of the truck."

"Oh."

They sat in companionable silence and Giles was beginning to wonder if Buffy had fallen asleep again when her voice, sounding tiny and hurt, drifted to him from the bed.

"What am I going to do, Giles?"

He looked up from his cup to see Buffy laying on her side, her fevered gaze fixed on him. He didn't need to ask to know that she was referring to Angel. He sighed, anger and sorrow warring for dominance.

"I don't know, Buffy. You have a lot of decisions to make in the coming weeks. Do you still intend to call off the wedding?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to do. He said he'd come back for me. He said it like he was so sure that I was just going to fall back in his arms. Like nothing had ever happened."

"There is still the problem of his curse."

"I know."

Giles sipped his steaming tea, wishing he had all the right words to ease her pain. Of all times for Angel to come back into her life, he had picked the most inconvenient. An unfortunate coincidence.

Or, was it?

As far as he knew, Angel still lived in Los Angeles and it wasn't farfetched to imagine that he might've heard of the upcoming society wedding. And, if he was still friends with Cordelia, her connections in Sunnydale could've conceivably offered the news.

"Don't think about it now, my dear. You're going to be released in the morning provided you haven't further dehydrated. We'll think about what to do after you've recovered."

"The shop... "

"I called Willow after you were admitted and she's going to open up for you."

Her eyes were starting to droop as sleep began to intrude. " 'Kay, then. Promise I can go home?"

Giles nodded and took her outstretched hand in his own, running his fingertips over her silky skin. "I promise. We'll take you home with us so Joyce can take care of you."

"Goody, I can play little girl again."

He continued to hold her hand as she fell into a deep, healing sleep. Giles drank his tea and watched over the two women in his life as dawn approached.

Willow looked up as the bell over the door tinkled. A tiny frown marred her brow as she watched the tall, impeccably-dressed brunette walk in. After Giles' phone call late last night, explaining what had transpired and asking if she would open Angelica's for a hospitalized Buffy, Willow had been half expecting her former classmate to visit.

Now, that she was here, Willow was pretty sure she had nothing good to say to her.

Cordelia glanced around the quaint little shop, wrinkling her nose as her eyes took in the various occult supplies and spell ingredients. She had yet to notice Willow, standing behind a glass case. The apprentice Watcher stepped from behind the case and silently moved nearer the designer.

"Hello, Cordelia."

"Ahh! God, Willow, you scared me!" Cordelia cried as she turned around to face the redhead. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other, a bright, insincere smile on her face. "So. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I opened the shop for Buffy today."

To her credit, Cordelia looked concerned. "How is she? She looked really bad last night when An... when I saw her."

Willow let the near mention of Angel slide. "Giles and Joyce took her to the hospital. She had food poisoning."

"Oh. Oh! I ate there last night too!" Cordelia said, putting a hand against her stomach as if expecting illness to strike at any moment.

"She'll be fine, thanks for asking," Willow said dryly.

Cordelia looked back up at Willow as the other woman's sarcasm became obvious. "I was getting to it. Actually, I came here to see if she was okay. She left...she was upset last night."

"I don't doubt. There you sat with the man who ran away from her seven years ago. I'd be upset too."

"It wasn't like that. It's not like that! I'm here doing some work for Angel."

Willow turned towards the counter, nervously straightening a jewelry display. "I know why you're here, Cordelia, I'm not stupid."

Cordelia winced at the sharp tone of Willow's voice. The witch's blatant hostility surprised her; she thought she and Willow Rosenberg had parted on good terms after graduation. "Willow, I never said you were. Angel bought the Bronze, he's refurbishing it. I'm here as his decorator."

"Is that so? And, why is he here? Except to turn Buffy's life upside down again?"

"He's not. He still loves her... besides, if you knew he was here, why didn't you warn her ahead of time? Save her the trauma of being surprised by his presence," Cordelia said sharply, easily falling back into her old persona.

Willow spun around, her hazel eyes glimmering dangerously. She opened her mouth to reply, but the truth of Cordelia's words sank in. She shook her head. "I... I wanted to. I tried to, but she was so caught up in wedding plans, the opportunity didn't present itself. Besides, she's only been back in town for a few days."

"You mean you were scared."

If the words had been spoken with anything other than gentle reproach, Willow might've been furious, but the sympathy in Cordelia's eyes softened the comment. "Yeah, I guess I was. She's never gotten over him, Cordy. She lives a fictional life and it's all that keeps her from falling to pieces without him."

"He wants her back, Willow. Angel loves her and he's desperate for her to love him again."

Willow sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. Rubbing her temples in distraction, she shook her head. "Cordy, she never stopped loving him, but she's getting married in less than two months. He's too late."

Cordelia lay her purse on the counter and leaned back against it. "That's what she said last night. But, Willow, I can guarantee you, Angel will stop at nothing to get her back. I mean, now that they can be together again." She paused, wondering if she had given away too much. "If you know what I mean."

Willow stared at her in shock. "The curse? How? Is it permanent?"

The other woman shrugged lightly. "He hasn't tested it, not for my lack of trying, but Whistler said it was."

"Whistler? The demon that first showed Buffy to Angel? The same one that helped her with Acathla and Angelus?"

"One and the same. Seems he's in the know when it comes to the forces of good and evil. Actually, the curse has always been permanent, ever since the Christmas of our senior year." Cordelia said as Willow paled in shock. "Something to do with making amends for his previous evil. The power of love and his willingness to let Buffy go. I don't understand it all."

"Oh, my God... seven years... Cordelia, they wasted seven whole years! Why didn't Angel come back as soon as he found out about the curse? Why did he wait until he lost her before doing something about it?" Willow cried.

Cordelia shook her dark head. "She had sent him away, Willow. She had forced him to tell her that he no longer loved her. She broke his heart."

"She broke his heart! That's absurd! They both were doing what they thought was best for Buffy and Angel. How long has he known?"

"I'm not sure... a couple of years. Not longer than that."

Willow couldn't believe what was happening. After years of mourning for her lost love, Buffy had finally taken the steps she needed to heal. Now, after seven long, heartbroken years, Angel was back.

"With Ben, she has the opportunity to live a normal life. Marriage. Children. The chance to see her husband in the daylight. She can't lose that, Cordy. She needs it."

"Willow, this isn't my decision to make. I'm here to decorate the Bronze. If Angel wants to try and win Buffy back, it's not for me to stop him."

"But, you can."

Cordelia glared at the smaller girl. "No, I can't. I won't. I'll never betray my friendship with Angel. I can't believe you'd be so willing to betray yours with Buffy."

Willow stepped back, shock and fury written across her face. "Get out," she hissed.

Snatching her purse off of the counter, Cordelia stalked over to the door. "If she finds out you're willing to sacrifice her happiness, she'll hate you forever." She jerked the door open, making the little bell jingle wildly. "Give Xander a kiss for me."

Willow stared at the door for a long time after Cordelia left, tears streaking silently down her face.

Giles and Joyce took Buffy home later that morning. After taking a cool bath, Buffy crawled into bed and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she finally awoke, feeling much better and even a little hungry, it was close to midnight. She threw the covers back and stood up, wincing as a wave of dizziness stole her breath for a moment. But, it cleared and she felt stronger. Slipping on the terrycloth robe her mother had laid out for her, Buffy went downstairs.

The house was dark, save for the glow of light coming from the kitchen. Buffy wasn't surprised to find Giles sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping tea and reading a book. "Hey."

He looked up, startled at her sudden appearance. "Buffy! How are you feeling?"

Smiling wanly, she sat down on the other barstool. "Much better, but still achy and dizzy."

Giles lay the back of his hand against her cheek, finding her skin blessedly cool. "Your fever's gone."

"Yay."

"Can I fix you anything? A piece of toast?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "No... "

Giles got up and walked over to the cabinet. "How about some soup, then? I believe we have some chicken noodle up here."

He proceeded to fix the meal while Buffy poured herself a mug of tea from the pot on the counter. The warmth of the beverage went a long way towards soothing her cramped stomach. "I've changed my mind."

Giles glanced over at her, confused. "About the soup?"

"No. Ben. I'm going to go through with it."

The pained resignation in her voice made Giles wince. "Buffy, I think you should give this some thought. You've had a terrible shock and I... "

"I've already thought about it, Giles. What else can I do?"

Walking over to the young woman, Giles took both of her hands in his, catching her gaze. "Buffy, I beg you, make very, very sure that this is what you want. If things between you and Ben are bad now, later they will only get worse."

"They aren't." She sighed when she saw his disbelieving stare. "Really, they aren't. It's just Gloria... "

"Who will be your mother-in-law. Buffy, she's making you miserable now, what do you think she'll be like later?"

Buffy pulled her hands free and glared at him. "It doesn't matter! Giles, I'm just not giving it a chance! She means well, she really does. She's just... just... "

"Psychotic?" he offered dryly.

"Overprotective. She adores Ben and he is her only child. You know how Mom was with me... "

Giles came around the corner of the bar and Buffy slipped from her seat, backing away from him. "If you're worried about recrimination... "

"No! I'm worried about Angel!" Buffy cried, tears beginning to streak her face. "He's turned it all upside down and I don't know what to do!"

Giles stared at the stricken girl and realized that, after all this time, the wounds that Angel had left on her soul were still bruised and bleeding. All hope that she had moved on flew out the window.

Buffy Summers was still inextricably linked to Angel and it was a bond that would likely be there until one of them died. Marrying Ben would not only be a mistake, but grossly unfair to the young man. Giles placed his hands on Buffy's trembling shoulders and gazed down into her lovely face. "You cannot go through with this wedding, Buffy. To do so will only compound your problems."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Tell Gloria Davidson that I'm calling off a half a million dollar wedding because my vampire ex-lover is in town?" Buffy asked tearfully. "Tell Ben that I don't love him, that I never loved him because I'm still hung up on one night of sex that happened ten years ago!"

"First of all, young lady, you needn't worry about Mrs. Davidson. Your mother and I will do the honors of telling her highness that she can take her half million dollar garden party and shove it up her arse!"

Through her tears, Buffy giggled at the picture that formed in her mind at the idea.

"And, furthermore, although I have issues with Angel and his past, ahem, behavior, I hardly think that the love you shared was based on 'one night of sex'. "

Buffy smiled tremulously. "He's all I ever wanted. The sex, it never mattered to me."

"I can't deny that I regret that you'll be giving up a normal life, but you need to think of your happiness and Ben's as well." Giles let her go and walked back to the stove where the chicken soup bubbled merrily in its pan. Getting a bowl from the cabinet, he poured the soup and set it on the bar. Buffy, drawn by the delicious smell, sat down and started to eat. Surprisingly, the warm broth soothed her rebellious stomach.

"Good?"

She nodded and spooned in another mouthful. Giles sat back down and picked up his cold tea. "Well, do you want me to call Mrs. Davidson tomorrow?"

"I'd better talk to Ben first. He's going to be upset, to say the least," Buffy said. "I feel horrible."

"Don't. Just relax and take it all one day at a time."

Buffy smiled and finished her soup.

To be continued...

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