"A Letter To Riley"

Author: Deb Nockels
Email: Debnockels@aol.com

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"What?" Angel blinked. So did Buffy.

Giles spared him a glance from his task. "If this Wolfram & Hart firm brought Darla back by magic, perhaps they also used magic on you to make you more receptive to her."

Angel felt as if he'd been hit over the head. Magic! Of course. That was how Darla had entered his dreams so thoroughly. Why in the world hadn't he guessed something of the sort?

Giles finished his grinding. He lit two candles and motioned for Angel to stand in front of him. "What are you going to do?" Angel asked.

"I'm going to find out if any spells have been cast over you," Giles responded. "Magic leaves a trace, as you know. This powder, which I'm going to sprinkle on you, will glow if it detects any magical aura."

Angel nodded, thankful that his coat, with Buffy's letter in it, was hanging up in the closet. That would probably light up like fireworks. Giles began muttering, Latin words which registered only vaguely on Angel's ears. Buffy stood a few feet away, chewing absently at her bottom lip. Their eyes met for a few seconds, then both looked away. Giles finished the chant, cast a double handful of the fine powder in the air over Angel's head, and stepped back.

The dust drifted downward, slowly, like a special effects scene in a movie. It settled in Angel's hair, dusted his face and shoulders, and sifted down over his body and legs. A few grains fell on his shoes, then the remainder landed on the floor. Angel looked down. Everywhere the powder clung to his body it glowed like fluorescent paint under a black light, in marked contrast to the inert, dull-brown particles littering the carpet around his feet. Buffy sucked in an audible breath.

"Good lord!" Giles exclaimed. "They certainly did a job on you. I've never seen so much magical accumulation. Although some of it is undoubtedly due to the gypsy curse," he added after a moment's consideration.

"No wonder you've been acting weird," Buffy commented. "Giles, can you remove the spell?"

Angel shook his head just as Giles said, "Er, no, I'm afraid not."

"He'd have to know exactly which spell was used to be able to remove it," Angel explained further.

"Oh."

Giles thought for a minute then said, "Angel's right. But I can perform a general well-being spell. It will diminish negative or harmful influences, strengthen your willpower, Angel, and generally just give a, a boost to your health, both physical and emotional. It's very ... well . . . gentle, and quite benign, I assure you. I see no reason why it can't be performed on someone with your special, er, circumstances."

Angel hesitated only a minute. "Do it. I want out from under whatever this influence is."

"It won't remove it," Giles reminded him. "The spell will only reduce its potency."

Angel nodded. "I understand. Do it," he repeated. Buffy asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, Giles?"

"Er, not really," Giles replied absently, his mind on the herbs and talismans he was selecting from the box. He hurried again into the other room after another item, not noticing Buffy's rather downcast expression.

Angel noticed, and understood. When Giles returned to the living room, Angel said, "Giles, I've changed my mind about that drink. Could I have some tea, please?"

"Certainly." Giles glanced up from the book in his hand, looked at Buffy. "Er, Buffy, would you mind? You know where everything is, and I'd like to get things set up here."

"Sure." Buffy went into the kitchen, Angel close on her heels. As she filled the kettle with fresh water, she looked up at him. "Thanks."

"What for?" Angel smiled down at her.

She smiled too, making his heart lurch. "For giving me something to do. You know I hate feeling useless."

"So do I." Angel opened a cupboard. "Is the tea up here?"

"Are you kidding?" Buffy nodded toward a canister sitting on the counter. "Giles would never put it way up there in a cupboard where it might take five extra seconds to get to it."

"I heard that," sounded from the living room. "The tea canister is on the counter because it's too tall to fit in the cabinet, that's all."

Buffy and Angel chuckled quietly. By the time the tea was prepared, Giles announced he was ready. Sipping at the fragrant brew, Angel followed Buffy back into the living room. "Where do you want me?" he asked Giles, setting the cup down on the coffee table.

"Sit on the floor, please," Giles told him as he moved the chair over against the wall. "I need to draw a circle." Angel settled himself tailor style on the floor and Giles proceeded to strew crushed herbs in a circle around him, chanting softly. The circle completed, and still chanting, Giles next picked up a bundle of herbs, dipped them into the contents of the bowl he'd used earlier but which now held a greenish liquid, and proceeded to flick it at Angel.

Angel flinched slightly as the droplets hit his face, but it was strictly reflex. The liquid wasn't hot or cold or any temperature, really, but as the chant continued and more droplets fell on him he began to feel a warm glow. Nothing unpleasant ... quite the contrary. The more liquid that touched him the better he felt. With each drop a weight seemed to drop from his shoulders, his heart grew lighter, and the crushing desperation that had been a part of him for so long started to ease. Unconsciously, he relaxed, only then realizing his entire body was rigid with tension, and had been for months.

Giles finished the spell, cut the air in front of him with the bundle of herbs, then set them down on the table. "How do you feel?"

"I feel good," Angel told him softly. "Better than I've felt in - " Instinctively he glanced at Buffy, then immediately looked away again. " - a long time." He uncrossed his legs and stood up.

"And Darla?" Buffy inquired.

Angel was silent, sorting through his thoughts and emotions. At last he spoke. "That's better too. I'm still feeling the same compulsion or obsession or whatever you want to call it ... but ... it's weaker now. I can recognize it for what it is, and resist the urge."

"Good." Giles handed him a bronze medallion hanging from a thick chain. "This talisman will help with that. We don't know whether it was a one time event or whether they're renewing the spell at intervals, so it would be a good idea to wear it for a while."

Angel examined the medallion, recognizing the design worked on its surface. "Thank you." He hung it around his neck. Buffy came over. "What is this?" she asked, taking it in her hand to study the symbol engraved on it.

"It's a Celtic knot," Giles explained. "There are hundreds of different designs, but this particular one is used to ward off evil influences."

Angel couldn't say a word; he was too caught up by her nearness, the brush of her hand against his chest as she turned the medallion over, the familiar fragrance of her perfume. Suddenly she tilted her head and again he was pierced by the sad maturity of her green eyes.

"You've had a rough time, haven't you?" he murmured.

Buffy nodded slowly. "My mom - a few months ago they found a brain tumor."

Angel's eyes flared wide with shock. "I'm sorry. How - how is she?" Dreading the answer.

To his relief, Buffy smiled. "She's fine. They operated and took it out, and she's doing good. Back to normal, pretty much. She's back at the gallery three days a week, except she leaves early to pick Dawn up from school."

"Who's Dawn?" asked Angel.

Silence.

Buffy stepped back and looked at Giles. Angel followed her gaze and saw that the Watcher was returning her look with one equally strange. He glanced from one to the other. "What's going on? Did I say something wrong?"

"You have no memory of Dawn?" Giles said instead of answering him. "Buffy's sister?"

Angel's eyebrows rose almost up to his hairline. "Buffy's what?" He chuckled. "Okay, what's the joke? Buffy doesn't have a sister."

"Very interesting," Giles said to Buffy. "Apparently the monks' spell has limitations."

"What monks?" Angel asked, beginning to lose his smile. "And what spell?"

"Several months ago I acquired a fourteen-year-old sister," Buffy told him, "because some Italian monks cast a spell to prevent an energy force they called the Key from falling into the hands of an evil god. They turned the Key into a human being, named her Dawn, and plopped her down in my house as my little sister because they knew I'd protect her. Everyone's memories were altered to accept the change. I only found out because of . . . well, because of another spell, and it was totally by accident. And now, even though I know that a year ago she didn't exist, I love her just as much as if she'd always been around."

She gave a wry little smile. "Of course, my memories tell me that she has been - for the last fourteen years anyway. I remember seeing her in the hospital just after she was born, how red and wrinkled and ugly I thought she looked. I remember her third birthday party, when she spilled her Kool-Aid all over my party dress. And one time when she was about six, Mom took us to the zoo and Dawn wanted to take the baby llama in the petting zoo home with us."

"It - must be confusing," Angel said, more than a little dazed himself.

"Oh, it is indeed," contributed Giles. "Except for me, you're the only other person who knows about this, Angel. Not even Dawn is aware of the truth, and for her safety we must keep it that way. Glory mustn't know where her precious Key is."

"Glory?" Another unfamiliar name. Or was it?

"The Evil Bitch god who's after her," Buffy supplied. "Or goddess, I guess she would be, really. She knows the Key is here in Sunnydale, but she doesn't know where it is, or what form the monks gave it."

"Glory," Angel said, then repeated the name again, thoughtfully. "Would that be short for Glorificus?"

Buffy and Giles regarded him with surprise. "Yes," Giles answered. "You've heard of her? What do you know about her?"

"Nothing really, I'm afraid. Just heard her name mentioned once or twice, that's all. The only thing I really remember is that she's supposed to be extremely beautiful - "

"If you like the Slutty Starlet type," muttered Buffy.

" - and more than a little insane," Angel finished.

"You've got that right," Buffy agreed.

"Oh." Giles sighed. "I was hoping you could tell us something we didn't already know about her - which isn't much, let me add."

"Have you called Wesley?" Angel asked him. When Giles looked surprised, he added, "You should. Wesley's great at research, and he has a lot of reference books."

"You're right, of course," Giles said after a brief silence. "I don't know why it didn't occur to me to give him a call." He gave himself a little shake. "However, that can wait. Right now we need to address the problem of what to do about Darla."

"We have to kill her," Buffy said at once, gazing steadily at Angel. He wondered if she was expecting him to protest. "I agree," he said evenly, "but that's easier said than done. She's four hundred years old and a vampire doesn't reach that age by being careless. I only succeeded last time because she didn't realize I was a danger. She knows better now."

"Does she know you're here?" asked Giles. Angel started to reply, then stopped himself as a startling possibility struck him.

"I don't think so," he said after a moment, slowly, "but I wouldn't swear to it. Lindsey - the attorney I mentioned before - is the one who told me about Darla coming here, after I caught him searching my room, but - I suppose it could have been staged."

"You mean that he deliberately let himself be caught," Buffy said, "so that you'd find out about Darla? That makes sense. You might be a tad suspicious if Darla left you a note. ‘Hi, Angel, Gone to Sunnydale to kill the Slayer. Wish you were here.' "

Angel had to smile. "Darla would never be that obvious, but yes, that's what I meant."

"Regardless," Giles broke in, "we mustn't take anything for granted. We have to assume that Darla lured you here, Angel, and proceed accordingly. So now the question is how to trap Darla without falling into *her* trap, whatever it may be."

"If she knows I'm here, then she wants to not only kill Buffy, she wants me to witness her death," Angel said, with absolute certainty. "She wants to cause me as much anguish as possible."

"Typical male," sniffed Buffy, to his surprise. Giles also looked at her with a puzzled expression. She continued, "Thinking it's all about you. Did you ever consider that maybe she just wants to kill me? I am the big bad Slayer, you know." She mock-glared at them, hands planted firmly on her hips.

Giles' face smoothed out and Angel chuckled faintly, then sobered. "You're right about one thing. Darla does want to kill you."

"So the best way to catch her is to set our own trap - with me as the bait." Buffy gauged their reactions. Both men looked unhappy, but they also knew she was right - she was their best chance at getting to Darla. Satisfied, she checked the clock on the wall. Nine o'clock. Plenty of time. A thought occurred to her, and she hurried to the phone.

"Mom, it's me. Don't invite anyone into the house that you don't know - anyone, I don't care what story they give you. And tell Dawn too." Joyce's voice came faintly over the phone. "Uh, well," Buffy went on, "do you remember Darla? Yeah, the girl who pretended to be tutoring me who was really a vampire. Well, she's back."

She listened. "I will, Mom. But you and Dawn be careful too."

"She looks different now," Angel suddenly blurted out, having just thought of this.

"Wait, Mom, Angel says she doesn't look like she did then. Yeah, he's here too. Hold on." She turned to Angel with a quizzical look. "So what's changed? Is she a brunette now, or what?"

"No. She's still blonde but she isn't dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl these days. She's more ... dressy ... fancy clothes. And no fringe. Uh, what do you call them over here?" He made a gesture across his forehead. "Bangs. She doesn't have them anymore."

One of Buffy's eyebrows went up. "Okay, Mom, she's given up on trying to look like a schoolgirl. About time too - it wasn't working four years ago! No, Angel says she's going in for a more glamorous look these days. So if a skanky blonde with no bangs and without a reflection shows up on the doorstep, don't invite her in, okay?"

She smiled. "Love you too. I'll probably be home late. ‘Bye." She hung up, looked at Giles with a question in her eyes, a question Angel also understood. Giles nodded, and she dialed again.

"Will, it's me. We've got a problem. Short version, Darla's back in town and Angel's here to help me get her ... Yeah, he did, but she's back ... Will, it's a really long story involving magic, and I'll be happy to tell you about it - later. Just be on the lookout for a dressy blonde; she's ditched the schoolgirl gig. Oh, and no bangs. Call Xander and let him know, would you? ... No, I think we're okay, but if anything changes I'll call you. Say hi to Tara. Later." She hung up.

"Okay, everyone's warned. So what's the plan?"

It didn't take that long to form one, mostly because there weren't that many feasible options. They had no idea where Darla might be staying, and since the time it would take to locate her would work in Darla's favor, not theirs, they decided that Buffy should lure Darla into one of the crypts and dispose of her. Angel, of course, would already be there, hidden, to aid her. Drusilla was a wild card, since they had no idea whether or not the insane vampire was even in town.

"Let me try something," Angel said at last. Bracing himself, he picked up the phone and dialed the number to the new Angel Investigations office. "Wesley, it's Angel. Please don't hang up. I need to know if anyone's seen Dru tonight. It's urgent."

There was a momentary silence, during which Giles and Buffy exchanged puzzled glances, wondering, Angel knew, why he'd thought Wesley might hang up on him. Then Wesley's voice, cool and brusque, said, "As a matter of fact, yes. Gunn happened to mention that a friend told him he'd seen her somewhere in Chinatown."

"Are you sure it was her?"

"He described her as ‘that crazy white vampire bitch who talks to the moon.' I'd say the description matches, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. What time was this?" He heard Wesley conferring with Gunn, then the Brit came back on. "A couple of hours ago."

Angel felt a surge of relief. Darla was enough to deal with; he didn't want to have to worry about Drusilla as well, especially since she had a frustrating penchant for spoiling his best-laid plans. "Good. Uh . . . thank -" A click sounded in his ear. Wesley had hung up on him. He sighed, then turned to the others. "Dru was spotted in L.A. this evening."

They were as relieved as he was, and went back to their planning. It was while Giles was arguing that he should accompany them on the mission as backup that the front door suddenly opened without warning. They jumped to their feet, startled and defensive. A familiar and (to Angel at least) unwelcome figure strolled inside.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" snapped Giles, considerably annoyed.

"Xander, what are you doing here?" Buffy demanded.

The young man grinned. "You didn't think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you? Besides, from the little that Will was able to tell me, it sounds like you could use some help. So here I am." His eyes went to Angel. "Dead Boy, heard you were back in town. Did your Irish sidekick have another vision, or are you here on your own initiative this time?"

Angel clamped down on the irritation Xander Harris always induced and only said, quietly, "Doyle's dead." To his immense, though hidden, satisfaction, Xander at once lost his provocative attitude. His gaze fell to the floor, then up again. Giles and Buffy turned shocked faces toward Angel, but before they could say anything Xander spoke.

"I'm ... sorry, I didn't know," was all he said, but he was clearly chastened. Clearing his throat, he turned to Buffy. "How can I help with the Darla slayage - and, by the way, so looking forward to hearing the story of her resurrection when we get the time."

Buffy exchanged glances with Giles and Angel, and sighed. "Okay. The plan is to lure Darla into one of the crypts. We were just working on how to do that when you showed up."

"I have an idea." Angel nodded at Xander. "But I'll need your help."

"My help," Xander repeated, understandably wary. Angel concealed his amusement as the young man added, even more warily, "Just what exactly do I need to do?"

"Be my victim." And Angel smiled broadly.

---

Buffy turned in a circle, scanning the area around her, especially the trees and clumps of shrubs where a vampire might be lying in wait among the concealing shadows. It was a normal thing for her to do on patrol, so it shouldn't alert anyone who might be watching. There was still no sign of Darla. She'd been patrolling for over an hour without catching a glimpse of her, but she knew that the vampire was in the area. She could feel her presence like a tingling in her nerves. Angel should be settled in the old Sorenson family mausoleum by now, staging their trap. The plan had been for him to wait at Giles' for fifteen minutes after she herself had made a very public exit out the front door, then unobtrusively leave through the back. Xander would leave thirty minutes after that, to play his part.

They hoped.

Buffy glanced at her watch, something she'd sternly resisted doing at least ten other times since she'd come out - Darla might wonder why she was so interested in the time. If she was anywhere around to see the gesture, of course, but Buffy was still convinced she was close by. It was eleven o'clock. Thank God. Finally it was time to put the plan in action.

She heaved a big sigh, puffing out her cheeks. "Okay," she muttered for the benefit of listening ears, "really bored tonight. I'm about ready to bail." Yawning dramatically, she headed in the general location of the huge mausoleum.

"Hey, Buff, how's it goin'?" Out of nowhere, Xander appeared and fell in beside her, right on schedule. "Put any more notches on Mr. Pointy tonight?" Then he whispered, very quietly. "Where is she?"

"Xander, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be Bronzing with everyone else," Buffy replied in her normal tone of voice before also whispering, barely moving her lips, "Haven't seen her but she's around; I can feel her. Is everything set?"

"On my way there," was Xander's cheerful response. "Just thought I'd take a little side trip first to check on my favorite Slayer.". Then, softly, "Yep. I've got my bag of blood right here. Just give the word."

Buffy gave the area another scan. This time she spotted something, just the faintest motion as a shadow ducked behind a thick grove of shrubs about thirty yards away. She yawned again, using this as an excuse not to notice the movement. Whispered, "I think she's over there" - indicating with her eyes - "Consider the word given."

Then, aloud, she said, "If things get any slower tonight I'm going to fall asleep from sheer boredom. I think I'll finish up this sweep then meet you at the Bronze. Be careful going back."

"You know it. See ya in a little." Xander nodded at Buffy and walked away in the direction of the Bronze - and, not coincidentally, the Sorenson mausoleum.

Buffy smiled and moved off in a different direction. Her adrenaline was up and it seemed to take forever, though only a few minutes really passed, before she heard the shout that signaled the beginning of the plan. She whirled around. "Xander?" Began running along the route he'd taken. Another cry, muffled.

"Xander!"

---

Darla's mouth stretched in a predatory smile. Her hours of searching for Buffy, who always seemed to have left wherever she'd been just before Darla showed up, followed by the time spent stalking her once she'd been found, had finally paid off. It was especially gratifying considering the frustrations of the night before.

First the car she'd stolen had run out of gas halfway to Sunnydale - and knowing it was her own fault for not checking the gauge hadn't improved her temper one bit. Then the car that stopped to help had contained three brawny, rather drunken, and extremely macho men who had their own ideas about what kind of help she needed. At least she'd gotten a good meal out of that little fracas, but she'd also lost the chance of an alternate vehicle when her victim's pals abandoned him, falling back into their car and speeding away in a panic. It had taken a while before another car stopped to render assistance. One way or another, she hadn't reached town until just before sunrise, which left no time to look for the Slayer.

But not only did she now have her prey under surveillance, she had just been presented with the perfect opportunity. Now was the time to strike, while the Slayer was distracted by the plight of her friend. What was his name? Xander? She must remember to find out just which vampire - or other demon - had attacked the young man, and thank him or her. Or it, as the case might be.

Darla felt herself morphing into her game face, but forcibly stopped the transformation. Time enough for that later, after she'd trapped the bitch and fixed her so she couldn't run. Oh, she would enjoy that, seeing her hated rival writhing in agony on the floor, helpless, consumed by fear.

"Revenge is so sweet," she hissed, picturing the horror those ridiculously large hazel eyes would express as she drew nearer and nearer. "And soon, my dear cheerleader. Very, very soon." Stealthily Darla followed Buffy as she hunted frantically for Xander.

---

Buffy kept her eyes open, stopped at the first sight of blood splashed over the lower branches of a shrub. "Xander!" Wildly she looked around, ostensibly searching for her friend but in reality listening as hard as she could. Sure enough, she heard the small rustlings that indicated she had a follower. She tensed when a third cry came from Xander, this one weaker. She sped in that direction, noticing several more splashes of the blood trail along the way. The mausoleum came into view, its wrought-iron gate swinging open, more blood smeared on the threshold.

She burst inside, saw the limp form sprawled on the blood-stained floor and rushed to his side. "Xander!" He was lying on his left side. His turtleneck sweater and jacket were gory with blood at the neck and collar, and another patch discolored the side of his head "Oh my God, no! Xander! The gate creaked faintly behind her.

"Oh, he's not dead," came a voice she hadn't heard in four years, but whose silken, breathless, little-girl tones were unforgettable. "I can hear his heart beating."

Buffy whirled around. Involuntarily her eyes widened and she gasped. It wasn't an act. Despite knowing what to expect, the sight of Darla actually standing there in the flesh was still a shock. For one thing, she'd never realized before how beautiful the vampire was. That Catholic schoolgirl interlude hadn't been the most flattering of personas for her. The woman standing before her was truly striking, with her blonde hair and lithe body, and cheekbones to die for. Small wonder Angel had been seduced by her all those centuries ago. Thick ankles, though.

Darla smiled mockingly at her. "Surprised? You of all people should know that you can't keep a good woman down - not even after she's been turned into dust by someone she trusted." The arm that had been hidden behind her back came around. She was holding a gun and it pointed directly at Buffy.

Buffy said nothing, her eyes fixed on the gun, which looked enormous. Darla tilted her head to one side. "What, cat got your tongue? No witty comeback? No humorous comments about my hair or my eyes or my clothes?" She started circling around to one side. Buffy moved to keep herself between the vampire and Xander.

Darla's cool, silky laugh rippled out; her cat eyes were maliciously amused. "Don't worry, Buffy. I'm not interested in your oafish little friend there. I've never cared much for someone else's leftovers. No, I have other game in mind."

She took a few more steps, which put her with her back to the inner room where Angel waited. Unfortunately Darla had moved beyond the tiny crack he'd left open, so he was working blind. Buffy knew how tense he must be in there, hearing everything but unable to see what was going on. She only hoped he'd been able to glimpse the gun Darla carried.

Moaning, Xander rolled over onto his back and Buffy glanced down at him. Instantly two shots rang out. Buffy jerked back from the impact to her chest, crying out in pain. Two more shots into her midriff sent her staggering several feet back to hit against the wall behind her. Slowly, groaning, she slumped to the ground, huddled in a little ball. Blood began pooling beneath her.

Inside the small room, Angel shot to attention. Gunshots! He gritted his teeth to keep from rushing out to make sure Buffy was all right, and began edging open the door. He'd carefully sprayed the hinges with WD-40 upon his arrival until not even the ghost of a squeak remained, but even so he was careful. It seemed a lifetime before the door was open enough for him to peer around.

Xander cautiously cracked one eye open.

Darla, not noticing either of these things, moved toward Buffy, her lips curled back from her teeth. Her eyes glowed golden and all of a sudden her face morphed into its vampiric mask. "Hurts, doesn't it, Buffy?" She was now between Xander and Buffy.

Stealthily Xander reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, removing a large water gun. It contained holy water and packed quite a wallop when the trigger was pressed. The water would dispense in a pressurized spray rather like one of those garden hose attachments - for as long as the water lasted, which wouldn't be very long at all. The gun held only two cups. But it should at the very least distract Darla for a critical few seconds, if it was needed.

Xander fervently hoped it wouldn't be. He had a pretty good hunch that water, however holy, wouldn't be much of a defense against bullets, and if the shock of being sprayed with the vampire equivalent of acid caused a reflexive tightening of her trigger finger ... His lips thinned, a vision of Buffy's head riddled with bullets flashing through his mind.

"You don't know how good this feels," continued Darla over Buffy's whimpers of pain. "One hundred and fifty years we were together, Angelus and I. We shared everything - our kills, our fun, ourselves - "

Again her laugh rippled through the air. "Especially ourselves! Everything. Even after he got his soul back, even when he couldn't be part of our family anymore, in his heart he still belonged to me. But then you came along. You! An ignorant little fluffy-haired teenager - a cheerleader! And just like that he forgot everything we'd had. He killed me, because of you!"

Unnoticed, Angel moved into the crypt. Xander held his water gun at the ready, stealthily raising himself into a sitting position. Silently Angel came up behind Darla, who was too busy gloating over Buffy to sense him. If ever he had doubted that he'd been under the influence of a malign spell, even after Giles' demonstration earlier that night, that doubt was now erased. With each noiseless step toward Darla he experienced a strong urge to stop in his tracks, to drop the stake in his hand. Memories of their past swept over him; wild, lustful, riotous memories, with odd moments of tenderness. Very odd, in some cases. Such as the gypsy girl she'd refrained from drinking herself back in 1898, saving the delicacy for him... .

He lifted his head with determination. No. This was going to end here and now. Instead he forced to his mind the memory of the human Darla's struggles as Lindsey's thugs forcibly restrained her ... the pleading and despair on her face in the moments before Drusilla sank her teeth into her neck. His grip tightened around the piece of wood.

"Well, now I'm here to return the favor, Buffy," purred Darla. "I'm going to kill you because of him." The gun swung around toward Buffy's head. Darla's smile bared her formidable teeth.

"Not tonight, Darla," said Angel in the split-second before his stake plunged into her back, straight through to her heart. "Or any other night." Darla spun around, back arched, mouth gaping wide with shock. At the sight of him, her yellow eyes bulged even more.

"Angel!" was all they heard. Only Angel saw her eyes change, caught the expression in their blue depths before she exploded into dust. The gun fell, but with lightning reflexes Angel caught it before it could hit the ground.

---

Silence. Then Xander got to his feet, pocketing the water gun. "Whew! Fifty points for stealth and timing, Dead Boy."

Ignoring him, Angel went to Buffy, gave her his hand to help her rise. "Are you okay?"

Buffy grimaced and unbuttoned her jacket. Beneath it was the latest in bulletproof vests, which she'd swiped from the Initiative before they disbanded. Two blood bags dangled from the vest, empty now. "Considering that I feel like I've been pounded by one of those jackhammer things they use to break up concrete, I guess I'm okay."

Angel helped her unbuckle the vest, Buffy hissing with every movement. "Sorry. I know this hurts." Beneath the vest she wore a soft, thick sweater.

"Yeah, it does," she agreed fervently. "But I'd be hurting a lot worse if I hadn't been wearing it. Good thing our hunch paid off, that since she used guns before she'd try them again." Gingerly she lifted the hem of her sweater and peered down at her belly. "So, do I look like raw hamburger?"

"Not too bad," Xander stated, inspecting the area. Big red splotches already marred the delicate skin where the bullets had impacted the vest. "It'll look a lot worse in a few hours, though."

"Thanks," Buffy responded drily, letting the sweater drop again.

"You'll be better tomorrow," Angel reminded her with a little smile.

Xander had taken the gun from him and was examining it. "You should be grateful she only got off four shots."

"Right," Buffy said, even more drily. "Grateful."

Xander showed her the weapon, deftly extracted the clip. "This is a ten-shooter, Buff. Just think how sore you'd be if she'd loosed off all ten of these babies."

Buffy made a face. "Thanks, I'd rather not. Okay, Xan, you win. I'm grateful. Now what do you say we call it a night? I so want to get this ick off me." Grimacing, she touched her pants, where blood had gushed from the bags she'd been wearing to fool Darla into believing her shots had hit home.

"I'm with you," Xander declared, touching his own bloody clothing. "I feel like walking vampire chum." Angel didn't say anything, just stayed next to Buffy when they headed out of the cemetery. Buffy insisted on escorting Xander home as a safety precaution, and asked him to call Giles to let him know they were all right.

"How long has he lived here?" Angel asked her as they walked away from the apartment complex. "It's a nice place."

"Uh, I don't know, four or five months, I guess," she told him. "It is nice. Anya loves it."

"So they're still together?" Angel was surprised. "I have to say I never thought that relationship would last."

"Me neither," answered Buffy. "But it's nice that someone's able to get it right. Of course, Willow and Tara are still going strong too."

Angel shot her a quizzical glance. "Tara?"

"I forgot you haven't met Tara. She's Willow's lover." Buffy cocked an eye at him. "You don't seem surprised."

"No," he replied equably. "Not after seeing her vampire double that time. Remember, I started to say then that a vampire displays aspects of its victim's personality - but you stopped me."

Remembering, Buffy smiled. "Oh yeah. Willow really didn't need to hear that just then; she was freaked enough by the whole evil twin thing."

"Probably not," he agreed. Silence fell, a rather awkward silence that neither of them knew how to break.

Buffy spoke first. "You haven't said anything about Riley not being around. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

"Uh, no," said Angel, "I noticed. I... didn't know how to bring it up." Especially since he already knew why the soldier boy wasn't there.

"He left me," Buffy told him, starkly.

"I know."

"He couldn't handle - " She stopped in her tracks, stared at him. "What do you mean, you know? How could you possibly know that Riley left me? Who told you?"

He looked at her for a long time without answering, as if weighing his options. Just as she was about to lose patience he said, "You did."

She stared some more. Which of them had lost their mind here? "What?" And of all the inane responses she could have made... .

They'd reached her house. Angel leaned against the tree in front. He hesitated then said, slowly, obviously choosing his words, "About ten nights ago I was ... home, in my bedroom. This literally dropped out of nowhere."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pale blue envelope that reminded her of her own stationery envelopes. Buffy took it from him. Her eyes widened. Her return address was printed on it. It was one of her envelopes. Peeking inside, she caught a glimpse of the letter it contained. A glimpse was all she needed.

"How?" She stared up at him. "How did you get this?" She tried to remember when she'd last noticed the letter lying on her desk, but couldn't. To be honest, she hadn't given it even a thought in ... well, quite a few days.

Angel shook his head. "It was through magic, obviously - but why it came to me and who sent it, I have no idea." He paused then added, "Buffy - I, I read it."

She'd figured as much once she saw the envelope was no longer sealed, but still experienced a surge of anger. "You read it," she repeated flatly, "even after you saw the letter wasn't for you." It was an accusation, not a question.

Angel faced her, his brown eyes steady. "Yes. I know that makes you angry and I don't blame you. And I know I should apologize for reading something so private - but I can't. In fact, I'm grateful that I did, because reading what you had to say about us and about your relationship with Riley was what really snapped me out of my obsession with Darla, and I can't be sorry for that."

Buffy blinked, confused. "Giles' spell - " she began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. "Giles' spell helped a lot, but it was your letter that got me started back on the road to ... whatever passes for normal with me. Ever since I read it I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. I've been carrying it with me everywhere and looking at it about ten times a day. I've practically got it memorized."

Buffy moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. "Why?"

"Because I'd given up hoping that you still loved me." His face, his eyes, revealed such naked emotion that it literally took her breath away. "What you said to me last year - "

"Don't," she interrupted, her voice harsh with guilt. "Don't remind me of the horrible things I said then. I was so angry ... and hurt ... I wanted to hurt you, the way -" She faltered.

" - the way I'd hurt you," Angel finished softly, "with Faith. Buffy, you know there was never anything like that between us."

"I know." Buffy took a deep breath, determined to be honest even if it killed her. "I knew it even then, deep down, but ... it was such a shock, seeing you two, like that ... after what she'd done to me ... and you took her side ... and then later in the police station you told that blonde cop I was nobody - " The memory still hurt. Her eyes grew wet.

"God," Angel breathed, closing his eyes. "Kate - I remember." He took a step toward her, hands pleading, shadows from the rustling branches moving across his face. "Buffy, I just didn't want her attention on you. She was so furious that night - irrational, really - I didn't know what she might do. That's all it was, I swear. I was trying to protect you. God, I never thought you'd - " He broke off. "How could you believe I meant it?"

The tears spilled over. "The same way you could believe that I meant what I said," she told him. "Because we hadn't seen each other in almost a year - well, except for that ten minutes in your office after Thanksgiving - "

Angel glanced away for a second.

" - and we didn't know what to expect anymore. In some ways we were almost strangers - at least, you were, to me."

"No," he said, softly but with surety. "Not strangers. Never that, Buffy. Yes, I've changed - someday when there's time I'll tell you exactly how much - but one thing is still the same. I love you, Buffy Summers. I'll always love you, no matter what." He moved another step closer, eyes intent.

Buffy choked back a sob. "Me too. I'll always love you, Angel." Slowly she went into his arms, laying her head on his chest. Angel pressed a kiss on top of her head. They stood like that for long minutes, arms encircling, locked together not passionately but with reverence ... regret ... forgiveness ... and most of all, love. Finally Buffy raised her head.

"Angel, I'm sorry. What I said that day, it wasn't true."

"Shh," he murmured, caressing her cheek. "I know; it's okay."

"It's not okay," she denied. Her eyes searched his, pleading with him to believe her. "I do trust you - with anything, everything ... even my life."

"Oh, Buffy," Angel whispered, and she was drowning in his gaze - the warmth, the love piercing her like a knife. He made a slight movement toward her upturned face, as if to kiss her, but stopped himself. "If we go any farther we'll only want more." His gaze belied his reasonable words; it was yearning ... hungry. Starving.

Exactly the way she was feeling. "Yes," she admitted, her voice thin, almost a whisper.

"And nothing's changed." Moisture glistened in his eyes.

"Yes," she said again, "nothing's changed - and everything's changed. We've changed. We're different, Angel; our lives aren't the same as they were two years ago. I think what we have to ask ourselves now is which is worse: the pain when we're together or the pain when we're apart."

"Yes ..." he breathed, his eyes locked on hers. "... no ... it doesn't matter; I don't care."

"Neither do I."

Slowly he bent down. Buffy closed her eyes. Their lips touched, and the pounding of her heart almost choked her. Softly they kissed, gently, rediscovering each other. She'd forgotten the coolness of Angel's lips. They were firm but still soft and tender. His hands caressed her face, stroked her back just as she remembered, their touch loving and knowing. His kisses were sweet and unhurried, but not tentative in the least.

She sighed, a sigh that felt as if it came from her very toes, and two years' worth of knotted tension began to unravel. A sense of peace enfolded her, and security. There would be anger and recriminations and explanations in the future, on both their sides - she knew that. But for now she was in Angel's arms once more, and she was safe.

Instinctively Buffy pressed closer, her arms leaving his waist to twine around his neck - as much as they could, she being so much shorter. She caressed his neck, played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Angel's arms gradually tightened, and their kisses grew more serious. He bent over and Buffy rose up on her toes, the better to reach his mouth. Their tongues came into play now, brushing, tasting, delicately ... then with less delicacy.

Emotion surged like a wave; her legs began to tremble. Angel was holding her so tightly she had trouble breathing, but she barely noticed. They were kissing fiercely now, with little moaning sounds, moving back into the shadow of the tree.

"Geeze, Buffy, what kind of an example is this to be setting your little sister? Making out in the front yard. What would Mom say?"

They pushed apart to find a young girl with long brown hair confronting them, a smirk on her face and her hands on her hips. As Angel looked up and the girl caught sight of his face, however, her smug expression changed ludicrously to one of utter shock. Her jaw dropped. "Angel? What are you doing here?"

"Uh ... hi," Angel greeted her, guessing who this must be but not calling her by name, just in case. He kept slightly behind Buffy until things, uh, settled down a bit. "One of my ... problems in L.A. migrated here, so I came to ... to help out."

Normally Dawn would have responded with a wisecrack, but she was too shaken. She stared at her sister. "You were kissing!" Her tone was accusatory.

"Very good. You pass the nighttime vision part of your eye exam." Buffy leaned against Angel, pulling his arm around her. "Now in the morning we'll find out if you can see the little letters at the bottom of the chart." Dawn had startled her with her sudden appearance, but she was darned if she'd let herself be rattled by her kid sister. "It's late, Dawn. Why aren't you in bed?"

Dawn ignored this too. "He was kissing you. And you were kissing him. There was a whole big, wet, kissing fest going on - with Angel!"

"Right." Buffy met Dawn's unbelieving gaze steadily.

"But - " Throwing out her arms, Dawn looked around wildly, as if searching for answers. "What about Riley? I mean, two weeks ago you wrote him this whole big letter all about how much you love him and miss him, and the minute Angel shows up you just forget it all?"

Buffy sighed and moved forward, leaving Angel's embrace with reluctance. "Dawn, the letter I wrote to Riley was not about how much I loved him."

Dawn looked stunned. "But - but you said it was." Then she reverted to her usual confrontational attitude, eyes narrowing, folding her arms in front of her. "You told me it said that you missed him and were sorry he'd left."

"I did tell you that," Buffy acknowledged, "but only to stop you asking questions. What the letter really was, was an apology because I'd realized I never did love him. That I still loved Angel."

Dawn opened her mouth but shut it again without saying a word. She stared from Buffy to Angel and back again, then her eyes fell on the envelope Buffy still held in one hand, rather crumpled now. "That's the letter, isn't it? You're actually showing Riley's letter to Angel. That is so tacky." Her accusation lacked its normal zing.

"First of all, Angel was showing it to me," Buffy told her, watching her face with a slight frown. "Secondly, it's not Riley's letter, it's my letter, and I can show it to anyone I want."

"What do you mean, Angel showed it to you?" demanded her sister. "How did he get it?" She paused. "I mean, how could Angel have your letter - unless he, you know, sneaked in and stole it or something." She gave an uneasy little laugh. "Which of course he didn't do, but ... " Her voice trailed off.

"There's kind of a mystery about that," Buffy said, still watching Dawn. "The letter seems to have been sent to Angel with magic."

Dawn gawked. "Magic sent the letter to Angel?"

That was interesting. Dawn's incredulity was about who had received the letter, not that it had been sent by magic. Buffy glanced at Angel, who raised a discreet eyebrow. So he'd also noticed and was wondering the same thing she was. "Dawn, did you do it?"

"Do what?" Dawn countered. "Send Riley's letter to Angel? Oh, yeah, right, it was me. Because I'm so good at magic." She glared at her sister. "Maybe you should ask Willow about it; she's the witch, not me."

Buffy regarded her closely, but all she saw was the sullen, mulish look so familiar to her. She sighed. "Go back in the house, Dawn." Without another word Dawn whirled around and stalked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Buffy sighed again. "Talk about breaking a mood."

"Same old Dawn, I see - " Angel stopped in mid-sentence, startled and awed by the memories pouring through his mind. Dawn, much younger, with braces on her teeth, impudently asking for movie money in exchange for leaving them alone ... sniggering when Xander called him Dead Boy ... staring at him wide-eyed with fright as Angelus confronted her outside Starbucks one cloudy afternoon ... confronting him after he'd told Buffy he was leaving Sunnydale, raging at him, calling him a loser and a coward and a dweeb ... whatever that was.

He looked at Buffy. "I remember her," was all he said, but Buffy understood. "Interesting," she said. "Giles will think so, for sure. I wonder why the monks' spell didn't work on you to begin with. Maybe you had to get close to her. Physically, I mean."

Then she shook herself. "Well, that can wait. You might as well come in. I have an interrogation to conduct and it might take a while. Then, after, we can ... talk." They shared a look, the memory of their kiss trembling between them. Slowly they came together, lips meeting, arms embracing. Instantly the heat began to build.

Breaking off the kiss but staying loosely entwined in his embrace, Buffy marveled, "All I have to do is touch you and it's like a fever races through me."

Angel swallowed hard. "I know. For me too." Clasping hands, they turned and moved toward the house.

---

Dawn closed her bedroom door - quietly because her mother was sleeping across the hall - and threw herself at the telephone. "Come on, pick up," she muttered as it rang and rang on the other end. Finally someone answered, and it was the right someone. "Anya, it's Dawn. Something went wrong - "

Anya interrupted her. "Why are you calling this late at night? Don't you know that's inconsiderate? We could have been ... sleeping, and you would have woken us up."

"Anya!" Dawn raised her voice, then lowered it again with a furtive look at the door. She turned her back to it in an instinctive move to lessen the risk of her voice traveling into the hall. "Something went wrong with that letter we sent to Riley. It went to Angel instead."

Silence. Then the sound of movement and a door closing. "Okay, Xander's in the other room," Anya said. "The letter went to Angel? You're sure?"

"Yes," hissed Dawn. "They told me so, just a few minutes ago. You should have seen them, kissing out there in the front yard where anyone could see them. It was - "

Her voice died away. She'd been going to say it was disgusting, but she couldn't. Before she'd realized it was Angel, she'd thought the passionate embrace was ... well ... sweet. Touching. She'd been happy because things were obviously going to be okay. Then Angel looked up and she saw who it was, and everything got crazy again.

"Kissing?" Anya sounded confused. "Who was kissing?"

"Buffy and Angel," Dawn told her, despondent now. "He's here in Sunnydale. Anya, what happened? Why did it go wrong?"

"Let me think for a minute." There was silence, then, smugly, "Of course. It's so obvious. The spell mentioned her true love, so if the letter went to Angel, then Buffy loves him not Riley." Dawn could almost see Anya's shrug.

"That's what Buffy said, that she loves Angel," she muttered. Then she thought of something. "Wait a minute. The spell also mentioned Riley's name, didn't it? And the letter was addressed to Riley, so I don't understand why it wouldn't have been sent to him anyway, in spite of that dumb true love thing."

Silence again. "Maybe it was," Anya said, slowly.

"Huh?" Now Dawn was even more confused.

She heard Anya take a breath. "Spells are very complex things. Sometimes intent counts as much as what's said. You remember how it took a while before the letter disappeared?"

"Yeah." Dawn retained a vivid image of the blue envelope hovering in the air, vibrating, for several moments before it vanished.

"I think it was confused - I mean, the spell gave it two different commands. One command said to go to Riley; the other said to go to Buffy's true love, which we now know is Angel. And - there's something I didn't mention at the time, something I saw."

Anya took in another breath. "Just as the letter disappeared I thought I saw ... two letters."

"You mean - " Dawn swallowed the dismay rising in her throat. "Anya, you mean you think the letter ... cloned itself? That it got sent to both of them? Angel and Riley?"

"I'm afraid so." Anya sounded subdued, unusual for her.

Dawn rolled over onto her back with a loud groan. "Oh, no! How could this happen? I thought sending the letter would make everything good again! Instead - man, could things get any worse?"

"Of course they could," came a voice from the doorway. "You should know that by now; it's one of Murphy's Laws or something. So Anya was your partner in crime. It figures."

Already knowing what she'd see, Dawn looked up. It was Buffy. How had she opened the door without her hearing? "Gotta go," she mumbled into the phone, then slowly hung up the receiver and sat up, facing her sister, who came into the room, closing the door behind her. "You didn't knock. Haven't you ever heard of showing respect for people's privacy?" she snapped, trying to summon defiance to hide behind.

"Haven't you?" Buffy replied, looking her in the eye. "As regards other people's letters, for instance?" Dawn's glare wavered and fell. All of a sudden she became intensely interested in the design on her bedspread, tracing the textured pattern with one finger. Buffy sat down next to her.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, simply.

She saw Dawn's throat work as she swallowed. Her voice came out in a strained mumble. "You ... were so sad. I thought it was because you were missing him - Riley. Because you loved him. I thought if he only knew, he'd come back ... or at least write ... and things would get better."

Her voice, her downcast eyes, her whole manner proclaimed she was telling the truth. Buffy looked at her somberly. "Dawn, you know what you did was wrong. And if I understand correctly - that you think both Angel and Riley got the letter - "

She paused; Dawn nodded miserably. Buffy's mouth tightened. "Then you've caused pain for one of the nicest, most decent men on this earth, someone I do care about even if I'm not in love with him. Someone I thought you liked too."

"I know," Dawn mumbled, blinking rapidly. "And I do like Riley, he's nice. But ... I didn't know it would hurt him. I thought it would make him happy." Here she gave Buffy a pleading, contrite look, that quickly changed to one of indignation. "But you lied to me about what the letter was about. If you'd told me the truth none of this would have happened, you know."

"Stop it," Buffy told her sharply. "You're not turning this into my fault. That letter was none of your business, regardless of what you thought was in it. It was my personal property. You had no right to do anything with it, Dawn."

Dawn slumped, averting her eyes again. "I know. I'm sorry." A tear slid out from one lowered eye.

"Thank you," Buffy said softly.

Dawn's sullen eyes came up. "For what? Groveling?"

"For caring. For wanting to help."

A frown creased Dawn's forehead; blue eyes studied her suspiciously. "You're not mad at me?"

"Not really - not anymore." Buffy had to smile at the wary expression on her sister's face. "For one thing, if you hadn't done this Angel wouldn't be here."

Studying her, Dawn said, "And you're really glad about that, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Yes, Dawn thought. You've got that look you used to have, that ... glow ... you always had when Angel was around. When your nose wasn't all shiny and red from crying, anyway.

"So," she said aloud, "you two are getting back together again?"

A wry smile curved Buffy's mouth. "I wish it were that simple. I don't know what's going to happen, Dawn. I do know that things will be different - and I hope, better."

Dawn brightened and said, slyly, "So ... it's good that I - "

Buffy cut her off with a sudden glare. "No, it's not good! Think of Riley and how he's probably feeling right now, and don't ever do anything like it again." She stood up.

"Okay," Dawn muttered sullenly. Buffy favored her with another stern, big-sister look, then left. Dawn lay back with her hands clasped behind her head. A smile spread over her face. An extremely complacent smile. But it faded quickly as an image of Riley reading Buffy's letter rose to her mind. Her eyes filled with tears and she rolled over, letting them fall onto her pillow.

---

As Buffy came down the stairs she saw Angel in the living room, looking at family portraits on the wall. He gave her a quizzical glance. "I didn't hear any yelling. Is she still in one piece?"

Buffy plopped down on the couch with a loud sigh; Angel seated himself next to her. "I couldn't stay mad at her," she admitted ruefully. "I mean, she really thought she was helping." They were both speaking quietly, even though it was unlikely Joyce would hear them through her closed bedroom door, upstairs. "The worst part of this whole thing is that I think Riley got the letter too. Tomorrow I'll talk to Anya and get all the details - she was the one who cast the spell," she explained.

Angel nodded, but something flickered across his face, too quickly for her to identify it. "What?" As he opened his mouth, she held up a finger. "Huh-uh. You had a really strange look on your face and I want to know why."

Angel nodded slowly. "All right. Riley did get the letter."

"What?" When he nodded again, she said, "How would you know?"

"Because he came to see me a few days ago and told me," he answered. "He wanted to let me know that you still loved me."

Buffy stared at him. "He - what?" She knew she must be gaping like a fish, but she couldn't help it. Angel started to repeat himself, but she shook her head. "Never mind; I heard you the first time. It just had to sink in." They were silent.

"It was ... very generous of him," Angel said, forcing the words out. He would do the honorable thing and give Riley his due if it was the last thing he did.

"Riley's a generous person," Buffy replied, quietly. "If I didn't think it would just make things worse I'd make Dawn write him an apology. Whatever stupid things he might have done, he didn't deserve to be hurt like that."

Angel stirred. "Buffy ... I'm not trying to deny that he's hurting, but ... from what I read in the letter, he was in a lot of pain already. Why else would he have turned to feeding vampires?"

"Yeah, he was, but I'm sure the letter didn't help things." Then Buffy shifted to face him. "Angel, we haven't talked about how you're feeling right now. You killed Darla tonight - again." It was obvious she didn't want to talk anymore about Riley. "How are you handling that?"

"Fine," Angel assured her. "I think whatever spell Wolfram & Hart used must have been tied to her, because I can hardly feel it now."

"How do you feel?" Buffy persisted. Her hand came to rest on top of his. He absently caressed it while considering his answer.

"A little sad, melancholy, whatever you want to call it," he said finally. "But that's only because I couldn't bring myself to kill her before." He held up a hand. ‘I know, the spell wouldn't let me ... but . . ." He shrugged. "I'm also very thankful. Buffy, you didn't see her eyes when she died. I did."

"What did you see in them?" She squeezed his hand gently.

"Gratitude." His gaze met hers. "In that last split-second before she turned to dust, she was thanking me for giving her peace." Moisture softened the rich brown of his eyes, and Buffy felt responsive wetness rise to her own - for his sake, not Darla's. "I'm glad," she murmured.

Over in the corner soft music had been coming from the CD player. Buffy hadn't even noticed. Joyce frequently forgot to turn it off when she went to bed, and she'd grown so accustomed to it that sometimes she wasn't even aware of the sound. Now an old song from the sixties - or maybe seventies, all she knew was that it was one her mom always sang along with - began playing, a male voice, soft and warm. The words caught her attention. Angel listened too.

Come bring me your softness,
Comfort me through all this madness
Woman, don't you know with you
I'm born again?

Their eyes met. Now a woman sang, high and sweet.

Come give me your sweetness,
Now there's you, there is no weakness
Lying safe within your arms
I'm born again

Memories. Patrolling together ... fighting side by side or back to back ... lost in each other's arms ... Now the two voices came together.

I was half, not whole,
In step with none
Reaching through this world
In need of one

... staring at each other in the sewer, equally stunned by the suddenness of their breakup, equally heartbroken ...

Again the man sang.

Come show me your kindness,
In your arms I know I'll find this
Woman, don't you know with you
I'm born again?
Lying safe with you,
I'm born again

Buffy and Angel remained gazing at each other while the love song played on. Patrolling, fighting, loving, breaking up ... everything that had gone into their relationship, grief and joy, tears and anger . . . all of it was important ... and none of it was, because here and now was all that really mattered, and right now they were together. The two voices, male and female, chimed together, slower now, softer, bringing the song to a close.

Lying safe with you
I'm born ...
Again...

Without quite knowing how she got there, Buffy found herself in Angel's arms. Their lips met in a long, tender kiss, and only the knowledge that Dawn could come down the stairs at any moment caused them at long last, reluctantly, to draw apart.

Brushing a strand of hair off her forehead, Angel swallowed. "It's late. I better go."

Buffy froze. "You're going back tonight?" She could hardly speak for the tightness in her throat. After everything that had happened between them that night, he was leaving? Again?

"No!" He kissed her reassuringly. "No. I only meant I needed to leave here. The house. We can't ... talk here, and besides you must be exhausted."

"Not particularly," Buffy told him. "Too much adrenaline, I guess. But you're right that we can't talk here. Where are you staying?"

"Uh ... " Angel hadn't even thought of that. He gave a surprised chuckle. "I don't know. Giles has a spare room; I guess I could call him."

"Or you could go to the mansion," Buffy suggested, then had second thoughts. "No, I guess everything would be all dusty."

"Actually, it shouldn't be too bad," said Angel, considering. "I covered all the furniture with dust sheets before I left, and anyway, it's not as if I would be breathing in the dust."

"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten the covers," Buffy commented, before she thought.

"You've been there?" Angel was surprised. "Since I left?"

Buffy hesitated, not wanting to admit how often her patrolling duties had managed to take her by Angel's old house. "A couple of times, but not recently." She got up. Angel looked uncertainly at her and she answered his unspoken question. "I'm going with you. We need to talk, didn't you say?"

"We do," he agreed.

"Then give me ten minutes to shower and change my clothes."

Angel watched her run quietly up the stairs. The thought brushed his mind that he should just leave, now, without saying goodbye, but as quickly as it formed he rejected it. No, there would be no more running away. Seeing Buffy again, especially now that the spell binding him to Darla was gone, had cleared his mind. Maybe it wasn't possible for them to see each other, maybe it would be better - easier - safer, if they stayed apart and lived completely separate lives - but if so, it would be because that was what Buffy wanted. Never again would he make that decision for her.

He sat down on the couch to wait for her.

---

Angel's face was cool between Buffy's palms, his lips tender and so loving that tears sprang to her eyes. How could she have gone without his kiss for so long? How could she not have realized the difference between the emotions she felt for Riley, however physically passionate they might be at times, and the soul-deep completion that only Angel could evoke? She breathed his name, and he gathered her closer.

God! Angel buried his face in her hair, whispering her name, planting kisses along the smooth column of her neck. He paused at the crescent-shaped scars left by his fangs, and kissed them tenderly. He heard the catch in her breathing and allowed himself the luxury of tonguing each individual puncture mark, remembering the rich, heady intoxication of her blood in his mouth. Buffy's shudder traveled through her entire body.

"God!" she whispered.

"How did you explain these to Riley?" Again he kissed the scars. A part of him mourned their necessity; another part of him rejoiced to know that every time Riley had made love to her, he'd seen his mark on her.

"I didn't." She touched her neck, smiling ruefully. "He never asked about them."

Angel pulled away a trifle. "Never?" He found that unbelievable. If he'd been in Riley's shoes, he'd sure as hell have wanted to know how the Slayer - not to mention his girlfriend - came to be bitten by a vampire.

Buffy hesitated. "I think ... I think he assumed they were from the Master's bite. We were talking about it - the Master, I mean - and he ... he touched them and said something about too bad you and Xander hadn't been faster on the scene."

He studied her face. "And you didn't correct him?"

"It was none of his business," Buffy said flatly. "That memory belongs to you and me. Riley has no part in it."

A shadow passed over Angel's face. "Why would you want to remember it?"

She caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Because it saved your life."

"But - the pain."

Her eyebrows rose a trifle. "What pain?"

Angel released her and rose to his feet. "Buffy, I came back here afterward, when I had to leave you in the hospital. I saw the table you kicked over when you were struggling to free yourself. I saw the metal urn you dented with your bare hand. You must have been in agony." He swallowed.

Buffy stared at him, her mouth open. "Agony? That's what you've thought all this time? My God, Angel, no! There was no agony involved. I've hurt myself worse than that shaving my legs!"

"What?" Angel asked, bewildered. He gestured vaguely. "But - the table - and, and the urn. And ... I remember hearing you ... making little whimpering, crying sounds - "

"Those weren't sounds of pain," Buffy told him, the color rising in her cheeks. Angel frowned. What in the world could she be saying? Buffy gave an impatient little sigh. "Angel, I was totally having an orgasm!"

Angel's jaw dropped. "Y-you - what?"

"I - had - an - orgasm," Buffy repeated clearly. Her cheeks were bright pink now, but she had recovered enough equilibrium to eye him with some amusement. "While you were feeding on me. Because you were feeding on me."

When Angel just stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a guppy while he searched for words, she chuckled drily. "Based on your reaction I'd guess that's not something that's ever happened before."

He shook his head. Buffy looked thoughtful. "Hmm. I wonder what made it different. Maybe because I wasn't a victim - because I offered?" She looked at him questioningly. He shook his head again, indicating he had no idea.

"Hmm," she said again. "Well, it happened, for whatever reason. So you can cross it off your list of things to brood over." Her gaze turned very serious. "Angel, you have enough in your past to feel guilty about. Don't waste your energy on imaginary sins."

Angel nodded, still dumb with shock. Buffy snuggled against his chest, and his arms automatically came around to enfold her. After a minute he cleared his throat. "Buffy."

"Hmm?" Her eyes remained closed.

"You really had ... an orgasm? Like when we made love?" He faltered, suddenly wondering if it was wise to bring that subject up right now. In the two hours since they'd arrived at the mansion, the night of her seventeenth birthday hadn't been one of the topics they'd discussed. His leaving Sunnydale; Buffy's almost grim determination to have a normal life, and her sorrow that in the process she'd deeply hurt a thoroughly nice, decent man; his experiences in L.A., including firing his new family; Buffy's fears about her mother's health and for her new sister - all this and more they'd talked about, bringing each other more up to date on their lives. What they hadn't yet addressed was the future. Or whether they even had one. Closing his eyes, Angel tightened his arms, holding his love even closer.

Oblivious to his train of thought, Buffy frowned thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't the same. It was ... I don't know if I can describe the difference. I felt it ... everywhere ... from my head to my toes ... which isn't that different, really, from the usual kind, except it wasn't ... uh . . . centered." She glanced up at him, tilting her head back. "If you take my meaning."

Angel did. He became lost in the memories her eyes shared with him. Buffy, beneath him, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, her body convulsing ... her gasps and whimpers testimony to the strength of her climax, as were the involuntary spasms of her inner core ... deep, gripping spasms that drove him over the edge into his own orgasm ... and into the ensuing sense of utter joy and peace that only unlocked the door for the nightmarish months that followed.

"Buffy," he whispered, his dead heart aching. Her fingers brushed his cheek. "Don't," she said softly, but firmly. "I can tell from your eyes what you're thinking. Angel, that was the most beautiful night of my life, in spite of what happened later. "

A second bittersweet memory rose to Angel's mind. The Day That Wasn't ... the day he'd been human and for that brief time had known the freedom of making love with the woman he loved, free to experience that wondrous joy without fear.

The day only he remembered.

His smile was sad. "Now what's wrong?" Buffy whispered, chiding. He shook his head slightly. "I love you so much," was all he said before he kissed her again, cutting off any other questions she might have in mind to ask.

Another hour passed although it seemed like only minutes to them, lost as they were in the comfort of finally being in each other's arms again. Eyes closed, Buffy leaned against Angel, enfolded in his arms, her head pillowed on his firm chest, reveling in the strength of his embrace. They were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, having agreed with rueful glances that the bed would not be a good idea. Their situation was fraught with enough risk without deliberately seeking out more, and being in a bed together would definitely come under the category of Stupid And Obvious Temptations To Be Avoided. Buffy gave a long, contented sigh.

"What?" murmured Angel, kissing her head. He continued to stroke her long, glossy hair, marveling at its softness.

"This is so wonderful, Angel. Being here with you like this. It's ... perfect."

"Almost," Angel corrected her quietly. But even though his heart had given a pang at her words, he smiled as he spoke, a soft, tender smile.

Buffy smiled too. "Okay, almost," she agreed, then tilted her head up. Their lips met, cool meeting warm, tenderly. Angel bent his head down and the kiss deepened. Buffy's arms came around his neck, and he tightened his embrace. God, it was heaven to kiss him again like this, to be here with him again, like this, their bodies pressed together as closely as possible in this position.

Not that she didn't wish they could be even closer. But, somewhat to her surprise, desire seemed to be taking a back seat right now to other, less volatile, emotions. Oh, the passion was there, all right, simmering as it always did when they were together, but it was below the surface, there to be savored as a good feeling but not threatening to overpower them as it had earlier, out on her lawn. They drew apart and gazed into each other's eyes.

"How are we going to do this?" Buffy murmured, stroking his cheek. "You do know that we can't just pretend all this never happened, don't you? That we have to make it work this time?"

Angel swallowed. "I want to, Buffy; you know how much I want it - "

"I'm not sure I do," she interrupted. "How much do you want it, Angel?" Her eyes betrayed a lurking insecurity that smote him, although he wasn't surprised by it. How could he be? He'd been the one to walk away from their relationship, after all, not she. Small wonder if Buffy harbored lingering doubts about his feelings.

"As much as you do," he answered instantly.

"Are you sure?" she asked, softly. " ‘Cause, you know, that's a whole lot of wanting."

"Yes," Angel whispered. He brushed his thumb across her lips, watched them quiver in response. "I want it every minute of every day and with every fibre of my being."

Buffy slowly nodded. "Yes. So what are we going to do about it?"

A wave of pain engulfed Angel. "We can't be together, Buffy. You know it's too dangerous."

"Not all of the time, no," Buffy agreed, though she swallowed hard as she said it. "But I refuse to go on the way we have been, Angel, never seeing each other, not even talking on the phone. I won't do it anymore. I can't." Her chin set with determination.

"No," whispered Angel. "Neither can I." And knew his words for nothing less than the plain, unvarnished truth. He could no more go back to his bleak existence without her in Los Angeles than he could ... deliberately walk into the sunlight now. In fact, greeting the sunrise would be the easier of the two. His body would survive returning to L.A. and never seeing her again; his heart and soul wouldn't. Without her he would become a mere fighting machine ... cold ... emotionless.

"So we see each other as often as we can," Buffy continued, then bit her lip. "As often as we safely can."

"Yes." Angel gathered her close again, his heart aching with mingled grief and happiness.

"I love you," Buffy whispered against his chest.

"I love you."

---

"Hello?" Brisk. Businesslike.

"Hi."

Instantly her voice grew warm. "Hi." Angel could visualize the smile lighting up Buffy's face; it would exactly match the one on his. "How'd it go?" she asked.

He settled himself more comfortably in the chair and sighed. "As well as I could expect, I guess. They didn't actually stake me, so I suppose that should count as a positive sign. We're moving the office back to the Hyperion tomorrow."

"Just give them time, Angel," Buffy said sympathetically. "You can't rush this."

"I know." Angel was silent a moment. "Considering I've been around for over two hundred and fifty years, shouldn't I understand people better by now and not get myself into situations like this?"

"Angel, have you already forgotten? Darla, compulsion magic - any of this ringing a bell? You weren't in complete control. Not to mention that you spent most of those two hundred and fifty years not caring diddly about people's feelings," she reminded him. "At least not in a good way. You have to give yourself time too; it's not something you can learn overnight. Just ask Anya."

He chuckled wryly. "I guess - " The door to his office flew open, crashing against the wall, revealing Wesley lending support to a sheet-white Cordelia. Angel sprang to his feet. "Cordelia! What's wrong?"

"Vision," Wesley said crisply. "She wouldn't tell me anything about it, just insisted we come here."

"Here, sit down." The two men helped the shaky young woman to Angel's chair. "Has she taken one of her pain pills yet?"

"She can speak for herself!" snapped Cordelia. "Yes, I took one and it should be working soon. I hope." Faint sounds issued from the telephone Angel had dropped on the desk at their sudden appearance.

"Excuse me a second." Angel picked up the receiver. "Buffy, I'll call you back. Cordelia's had a vision - "

"Wait!" It was Cordelia, talking through clenched teeth. "That's Buffy?"

"Yeah." She held out her hand. Angel looked nonplussed at Wesley, who just shrugged and shook his head, indicating he didn't know what was going on. "Hold on, Buffy," Angel said into the receiver and started to hand the phone to Cordy.

"On second thought," gritted Cordelia, dropping her head in her hands and resting her elbows on the desk, "put her on the speaker phone. This concerns both of you."

"Buffy too?" Wesley instantly asked. Cordelia just glared at him and waited until Angel pushed the Speaker button and replaced the receiver.

"Buffy, are you still there?" Angel asked, raising his voice a trifle. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," came Buffy's voice over the speaker. "What's going on? And why does it sound like I'm in a tunnel all of a sudden?"

"You're on the speaker phone," Angel told her. "Wesley and Cordelia are here. Cordelia wants you to hear whatever it is she's going to tell us about her vision."

"Hi, Cordelia. Is there another big ugly in Sunnydale? I hope it's nothing to do with the Chumash again. That situation's just too morally confusing."

"Just shut up and listen, okay?" snapped Cordelia. "The damn PTB sent me this damn vision and I'm going to damn well pass it on like I'm supposed to, however much I hate it!"

‘We're listening," Angel assured her, wondering what the hell was going on. He'd never seen Cordelia in such a state over a vision. Frantic, yes. Repulsed and disgusted, yes. Hurting, yes, and not just from the physical pain involved for her. But never this angry, bitter resentment. He glanced at Wesley, who looked equally puzzled. There was not a sound from Buffy, who must be just as stunned as they were.

Cordy's steely eyes nailed Angel. She took a deep breath. "Angel, the vision involved you and Buffy. I saw the two of you, together."

Angel waited. After a moment, when nothing more seemed forthcoming, he said, "Where were we? In Sunnydale?"

"The place isn't important," Cordelia retorted. "What matters is that the two of you were together. In the ‘moaning and writhing together naked in bed' definition of the word."

It took a second for her meaning to penetrate. Angel straightened. "That isn't going to happen."

"No," Buffy seconded, with perceptible sadness.

Cordelia laughed shortly. "Oh, yes, it is. I haven't finished telling you everything." Angel exchanged a worried and confused glance with Wesley as she continued. "I saw this really weird-looking woman. She was wearing a strange robe or something - Greek, I think, or maybe Roman. She had long black hair all piled up on her head in ringlets, and her skin was all golden with these bizarre blue symbols everywhere. On her skin, I mean."

"One of the Oracles came to you in your vision?" Angel stared at her. So did Wesley.

"Is that who it was? She's kind of an arrogant bitch, isn't she?" Cordelia remembered that she was angry at Angel and resumed her biting tone. "Anyway, she gave me a message for you."

Taking a deep breath, she recited, ‘Tell the Warrior the Higher Beings have realized that he cannot fight effectively alone, that he is only half of their weapon and without the other half he is useless to Them. Therefore They have anchored his soul to his body. As long as the Warrior exists, his soul is safe. He and his Soulmate, the Slayer, are now free to unite, without fear.' Then I saw you two, together, which I hope never to see again, and now I've given you the message."

Again Cordelia's angry brown glare raked over Angel, who was frozen in place. His mouth opened but nothing came out. It was Wesley who finally broke the silence. "You mean, the happiness clause - "

Cordelia made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "Zip. Nada. Gone with the wind."

Buffy's voice came over the air. "Angel? I - did I hear right? Did Cordelia say your soul is - safe? Angel?"

"Er, Buffy? Angel's not here," Wesley answered her, staring at the swaying office door. "I think you're going to have a visitor before long."

"Wesley?" she asked urgently. "What's going on? Is what Cordelia said even possible? Who is this Oracle person?"

"The Oracles were seers in ancient times," he replied. "Also in not so ancient times, like right now. There are two of them and they're direct links to the Powers That Be. Angel has had dealings with them before."

"So ... it could be true?"

"It is true!" Cordelia snapped. "All my visions are true, I'll have you know. And let me just add that I really don't appreciate having my head explode just so you and your vampire honey can get groiny with each other. The next time the Powers want to play Cupid they can find someone else to deliver the damn message!"

"Cordelia!" Wesley began in protest, but Buffy cut him off. "Cordy, when did Angel begin to act strange? Because of Darla, I mean?"

Cordelia shrugged, remembered that Buffy couldn't see the gesture, and shrugged again. "I don't know. Several months ago. He started sleeping a lot, like all the time. Guess those dreams he was having about her were pretty hot stuff." Her voice was tart, and a little bit sly. "Did he happen to tell you about those dreams?"

"Yes, he did," Buffy replied evenly. "Did he tell you that Darla's dead?"

Wesley looked up, startled, and Cordelia stopped massaging her temples. "What?" they chorused in unison. Wesley added, "When did that happen? And how?"

"Four nights ago, here in Sunnydale."

"Angel was in Sunnydale?" Wesley raised an eyebrow. Cordelia just pursed her lips.

"You didn't even know that?" Buffy said, surprised. "What did you guys talk about today? I thought he was going to bring you up to date on everything." Wesley was spared having to answer because she went on without pause. "Darla came here to kill me. Angel followed her and killed her - again."

"Why on earth didn't he tell us?" Wesley wondered aloud.

"Gee, I don't know," Buffy mused. "Could it be because he didn't think you'd care?"

"Well, of course we care," he protested. "Now we can stop worrying that he'll go off the deep end again because of her."

"Oh, Giles already took care of that," Buffy said sweetly, "when he uncovered the spell Wolfram & Hart had put on Angel."

Silence, while Cordy and Wes stared at each other. Finally - "Spell?" asked Cordelia in a subdued voice. "What ... kind of spell?"

"Giles said it was some kind of compulsion thing. It was tied to Darla in some way, because once she was dead the obsession just vanished."

"How did Mr. Giles know there was magic involved at all?" asked Wesley.

"He didn't at first," was Buffy's bland reply. "But when Angel told us what had been happening with Darla, he got suspicious because of the way Angel said he'd been acting, and tested him for magical influences. Angel lit up like a Christmas tree."

"Dear lord," Wesley muttered, sinking down onto a corner of the desk. He stared straight in front of him and his mouth stayed slightly open, giving him a half-witted appearance.

Buffy went on. "I thought it was kind of strange that Giles, who hasn't seen Angel in over a year, suspected what was happening, but you two, who practically lived with him, didn't."

"How were we supposed to know?" Cordelia sputtered. "It wasn't like Angel - " She stopped.

"It wasn't like Angel suddenly started acting weird?" Buffy inquired sweetly. "Like he started obsessing over a woman he'd killed four years ago, even before he knew she'd been brought back to life? He didn't start sleeping all the time, and ignore his mission? It wasn't like he suddenly shut the people he worked with out of his life, the people who'd become his new family?"

"We tried to talk to him," Cordelia asserted defiantly. "At least, Wesley did. Angel kept saying everything was fine. What were we supposed to do, tell him he was lying? That would have gone over big."

"Everything was fine?" Buffy's voice rose. "With the way he was acting, you believed that everything was fine? You just accepted that?"

"All right, Buffy," Wesley interposed. "We get the point. We should have persevered. We failed Angel, just when he needed us most. And worse, we've been blaming him, when we should have been asking his forgiveness."

Buffy's voice softened. "It was Angel's fault too, Wes. I'm not trying to say he was blameless. I mean, he didn't lose his soul again; this time he had some control over his actions. As you should know, he's always been inclined to just barge ahead once he decides on an action to take. Giles said the compulsion thingy merely strengthened his natural - what was the word he used? Bullheadedness."

"Why did he fire us?" Cordelia suddenly asked, her voice betraying the deep hurt she still felt over Angel's action.

"You didn't ask him?"

"No." Cordelia didn't add that they'd been too busy putting Angel "in his place" to make any inquiries at all about him or his state of being.

"Angel told me he fired you because he wanted to get you out of the line of fire." Then Buffy sighed and admitted, "And also because you kept distracting him from his hunt for Darla."

Again silence reigned. This time the two members of the Fang Gang avoided looking at each other, lost in their own troubled thoughts.

"Well, I guess I better go," Buffy said, "since I'm going to have a visitor soon. Cordy, thank you for telling us about the vision."

"You're welcome," Cordelia mumbled automatically, her mind obviously elsewhere.

Wesley roused himself. "Buffy, I - uh - congratulations on the good news. I'm very happy for you both. And - thank you."

"You're welcome. Good night." She hung up. Wesley punched the Speaker button, turning it off. "Well," he said.

"Well," echoed Cordelia. Absently she rubbed her forehead. Wesley noticed the gesture. "Is the headache still there? Do you want another pill?" he asked, concerned.

"No, it's better." She looked at him. "Wesley, Angel refused to talk about what was going on. You know he did. It's not like we could have forced him to tell us anything."

"No," said Wes somberly, "but we could have tried harder, Cordelia. We're supposed to be his friends - his family. We're supposed to help, and instead we criticized and complained and made no effort to understand what he was going through." He stood up. After a second, so did Cordelia. Silently they walked out of the office.

 

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