"A New Day"

Author: Deb Nockels
Email: Debnockels@aol.com
Timeline: Pretty much the canon for Seasons 1-3 of BUFFY. Aside from Buffy et al being in college, Season 4 is ignored. She didn't know Angel was in L.A. and none of the crossovers happened. Neither, most definitely, did Parker. Or Riley. (Not that I dislike Riley; he just has no place in this story.) For ANGEL, most of Season 1 is in place, with one glaring exception: I very reluctantly decided not to include Doyle, since this is set in the future and we still don't know whether or not the character will return on the show.
Notes: I can't believe I don't have song lyrics to go with this story! I know there's gotta be several out there that fit, but my tired little brain just won't come up with any names. Sequel to "Without You."

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I'm singin' in the rain
Just singin' in the rain
What a glorious feeling
I'm happy again!

Late May 2000

Awareness came slowly.  Buffy opened her eyes, blinked sleepily.  Rolling onto her back, she gave a huge yawn then looked over at Angel, sleeping soundly next to her - soundly being the operative word.

Dead to the world, she thought with a mental snicker.  She turned to face him and enjoy his nearness.  She felt different this morning, not only physically, with her body still tingling with pleasant little aches from their tempestuous lovemaking the night before, but also mentally.

What was it Angel said last night, about feeling fifty pounds lighter?  That's how I'm feeling, like a huge backpack has suddenly fallen off my shoulders ... like I've escaped from prison ... like I could jump up in the air and float away.

Buffy stretched, grinning.  I think the word I want is "euphoric."  Careful not to wake him, she placed a light kiss on Angel's lips, then slid out of the bed.  Gathering up her clothes, she went into the bathroom.  As she dressed, she made a fastidious face.  Oh well, I can change into clean clothes when I get home.

Her hair was a tangled nest, she discovered when she tried to run her fingers through it.  Of course last night would be the one night I didn't put a brush in my purse! she thought, giving up in disgust.  Just as well there aren't any mirrors around.  I can just imagine what I look like.

She went back into the bedroom.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she touched Angel on the shoulder.  "Angel?"  No response.  "Angel."  A little louder this time, accompanied by a shake of his shoulder.  His eyelids twitched, then slowly opened.

"Mmph?"

Buffy chuckled.  "Angel, I'm leaving now, but I'll be back this evening."

"Mmm-hmm."  His eyes closed.  Buffy kissed him on the cheek and left, smiling to herself.  The walk home was pleasantly cool, the summer heat not yet in full sway, and Buffy restrained a mad impulse to dance down the streets.

Like what's-his-name, in that old movie that Grandma liked so much.  Except that it's not raining.  Reaching home, she let herself in, was surprised to hear her mother call to her from upstairs.  "Mom?  What are you doing home?  Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I decided to come home for lunch."  Her mother met her at the top of the stairs.  Buffy looked at her watch.  "At only eleven o'clock?"  She fixed her mother with a knowing look.

Joyce shrugged.  "I was concerned about you.  So sue me."

"Didn't Willow give you my message?"

"Yes."  Joyce folded her arms.  "She told me that you were with Angel and that everything was fine.  She didn't say you would be gone all night.  Honey, did you think I wouldn't worry?  What did you do, go out patrolling again?"

"No, Mom, I was with Angel, just like my message said.  And before I forget, thank you."

"You're welcome," her mother said uncertainly. "What are you thanking me for?"

"For Angel."  Unable to contain herself any longer, Buffy hugged her mom.  "I'm so happy," she whispered. "Thank you for talking him into coming home."

Joyce returned the embrace.  "Well, it didn't take a whole lot of talking, but seeing you this happy is the only thanks I need.  I'm glad you two have worked it out."

Buffy released her mother.  "We still have some issues to work through, but we'll make it.  Now, I so need to get out of these clothes!  Why don't you go fix something for lunch and I'll be there in a minute?  There's a lot I need to tell you."

Joyce agreed, and Buffy went into her bedroom, where she changed into jeans and a short-sleeved knit top of hunter green, and at long last got the rats out of her hair.  A mere ten minutes later she joined her mother in the kitchen, where Joyce was cutting a tomato into wedges.  "How does tuna salad sound?" she asked Buffy.

"Sounds great."

"Good, because I made some last night."  Smiling at Buffy, Joyce reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a small bowl.  "You got down here awfully fast.  No shower this morning?" she said casually, intent on spooning tuna salad atop the mound of lettuce on one plate.

"Nope.  Took one last night at Angel's."  Buffy popped a piece of lettuce into her mouth.  

Joyce stopped with the spoon suspended in mid-air.  "At Angel's?" she repeated.  "You were at his place last night?  Is that where you spent the night?"  Her tone became increasingly alarmed.  "Buffy, do you think that was wise?  I mean, why make it harder on yourselves?  I thought you two would have learned that lesson by now.  I never would have gone to see Angel if I hadn't thought you could be trusted not to, to push the boundaries!"

 "Mom!  Chill.  You don't have to worry about it.  That's part of what I needed to tell you," Buffy said reassuringly.  She fetched eating utensils and sat opposite her mother, handing her a fork.  "Willow and Anya worked a new curse on Angel last night that took away the danger of him losing his soul."  She ate a bite of salad.

Joyce caught on quickly.  "So when you said you spent the night with Angel, you meant ... "

Buffy swallowed.  "That I spent the night with Angel.  Yes."

Stunned, Joyce took a long breath.  "And everything was okay this morning?"

Buffy broke into a huge smile.  "Everything was wonderful this morning.  God, I am starved!"  She started wolfing down her lunch as if she hadn't eaten in a week.

Joyce shook her head as she plopped down on the stool.  "That was a dumb question.  You wouldn't be this bubbly if anything had gone wrong."  She looked down at her plate, forked up some tuna then set it down, uneaten.  "I ... I simply don't know what to say.  I wasn't expecting anything like this.  What are your plans now?"

It was Buffy's turn to shake her head.  "I don't know.  So much was going down last night - "

Including Angel, flashed through her mind, prompting a wicked little grin that she hastily erased, hoping her mother hadn't seen it.  " - uh - we didn't really have a chance to discuss the future."

She set her fork on her now empty plate.  "That was good.  Thanks."

"You're welcome," her mother replied automatically.  "Where are you off to now?" she then asked, as Buffy got up and took her plate over to the dishwasher.

"I've got an appointment with Giles soon, but first I need to go retrieve my car.  Don't suppose you could give me a lift to Willow's, could you?"  She looked hopefully at Joyce, who smiled.

"Sure.  Just give me a chance to finish this."

Buffy cleaned up the kitchen while her mother finished eating, then Joyce dropped her off at Willow's house.  Willow's mother answered the bell.  "Hi, Mrs. Rosenberg.  Is Willow home?"

"Oh hi, Bunny - " Sheila Rosenberg stopped, smiled apologetically.  "Sorry - I mean Buffy.  Willow's in her room.  Come on in."  She motioned her inside.  Buffy walked down the hallway to Willow's room and knocked on the door.  "Will?"

The door flew open and Willow pulled her inside.  "Well?" she demanded.  Buffy just smiled happily at her.  Willow's eyes grew big then filled with tears.  "Oh, Buffy, I'm so glad."

"Then why are you crying?"  Buffy gave her friend a hug.  Willow sniffed.  "Because I'm so happy for you, of course.  Why else would I cry?"

To her astonishment, Buffy felt her own eyes tearing up.  "Oh, Will, I thought I'd never see him again, but he's back and we're together - really together.  I can't believe it, and it's all because of you.  Thank you!"  Sitting on the bed, they cried on each other's shoulders.  After a minute they looked up and simultaneously burst out laughing.

"Oh dear."  Buffy swiped at her cheeks with her hands.  "Ridiculous much?"

"It's not ridiculous," Willow disagreed, handing her a tissue from the box on her night stand.  "They're happy tears and, and happy laughter, and happy is good.  Right?"

"Right as always," Buffy laughed.  She flopped onto her back.  "God, I can't believe how good I feel."  A sudden yawn took her by surprise.  "Even if I did only get four hours of sleep.  Excuse me."

"That much?" Willow raised an eyebrow.  Buffy giggled at the knowing look on her face.  "Well," she drawled, "I wouldn't swear to it."

Willow giggled in turn, then sighed.  "Buffy, it's good to see you like this.  You haven't looked this happy in a long time."

"I haven't been happy in a long time," Buffy said softly.  "I haven't been anything, really, except just ... existing.  Taking each day as it came, waiting for it to be over.  Now - Will, I feel like I've suddenly come to life again."

"What are you going to do now - you and Angel?"  Willow turned serious.  Buffy shrugged.  "I don't know.  We haven't exactly talked about the future.  Right now I don't even want to think about it - there's plenty of time for that."  

She looked over at Willow and noticed for the first time how pale her friend was, with shadows beneath her eyes.  Buffy frowned.  "Will, are you feeling all right?  You look tired."

Willow shrugged.  "I had a bad dream last night that kept me from getting back to sleep, so, yes, I am a little tired.  I'll catch up on my sleep tonight; don't worry about me."  She gave Buffy her most reassuring smile.

"Well, okay."  Buffy looked at her watch and hopped up.  "Oops, gotta go.  I'm going to be late for my session with Giles.  See you later, Will."

After she left the room, Willow dropped her pretense at cheerfulness.  "I hope I can sleep tonight," she muttered to herself, and shivered.

Buffy pulled up in front of Giles' bookshop, the Bell, Book & Candle, with a loud screech of tires.  "I'm here!" she called as soon as she was inside the shop.

"So I heard," Giles said drily from behind the counter.  "You're late."

"Sorry," she replied, knowing she didn't sound the least bit sorry, and not caring.  Overflowing with energy, she bounced up and down on her toes.  "What's on the agenda?  Sword play?  Foot work?  Oh, by the way, I have something to tell you."  Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"Have you?"  Giles studied her thoughtfully.  "You seem very ... chipper ... today," he observed.  "Is it safe to assume that Angel's back in town?"

Buffy's heels met the floor with a thump.  "What?  How did you guess that?  Oh."  She rolled her eyes.  "Duh, of course.  My mom called you, didn't she?"

"She did," Giles confirmed.  He came around the counter and stood before her.  "Buffy, I'm glad to see you so happy, but I feel I must caution you to take great care, even more so than before.  I know your feelings for Angel and his for you, how strong they are, and after such a long separation, I fear the temptation to - well, to further the relationship will only be that much greater for you both.  Frankly, it worries me a great deal."

He fiddled with his glasses.  "I confess that I was most reluctant to give your mother Angel's address for that very reason, but she" - he gave a wry little laugh - "she was extremely persuasive.  Rather like you, in fact - " He broke off at the look on her face.  "What is it?"

Buffy was staring at him in shock.  "You had Angel's address?  All this time?  And you didn't tell me?"

"No, I didn't tell you," Giles replied steadily, "because Angel informed me in no uncertain terms that it was for emergency use only, and that if I did give it to you he would move again, this time letting no one know where he was.  As you know, Angel doesn't make idle threats.  I deemed it best to accede to his ... request."

"Say what?"  Buffy regarded him blankly.

"I promised him I wouldn't," he summed up.  "I'm sorry if this has upset you.  I thought Joyce would have told you she got his address from me."  He sighed.  "Buffy, it was a case of either knowing how to reach him in case of an emergency, or ... or having no idea at all where he was.  I don't see that I had a real choice."

"No."  Buffy turned away, walked aimlessly over to a nearby table.  "No, I don't suppose you did."  She stared unseeing at the books stacked haphazardly on the surface.  "It's just, it would have been nice, once in a while, to know that he was still alive, that's all."

Then she frowned.  "Well, not alive, because he's not really, but just that he was still ... around ... existing.  I mean - "

"I know what you mean, and I'm sorry."  Giles' voice was gentle.  "But as I was saying, now that he's back you must both exercise great caution - "

Buffy interrupted.  "No."

"No?"  Giles blinked.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's no need for great caution."

Giles frowned in bewilderment. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Willow and Anya rewrote the gypsies' curse and cast it on Angel last night.  This one doesn't include him losing his soul if he's happy."

"They ... rewrote the curse?" he repeated, weakly.  "And it worked?"

"It worked," she confirmed.

"Are you sure?"  Giles thrust his hands in his pockets, then pulled them out and strode about the room.  "Buffy, this isn't something we can make guesses about!  We must be certain - "

"Giles."  Buffy folded her arms and looked him in the eye.  "I'm positive."

"Oh."  Giles stopped his pacing. "I see.  Well - "  He paused.  "Well ... er, good.  I mean, I'm glad - happy - for you."

"Thank you."  Buffy inclined her head.  "And before you ask, no, I don't know what our plans are for the future.  He only got back last night, remember.  We've been a little busy with other things."

Giles looked discomfited.  "Er, yes, of course - spells and - uh - and such.  Quite.  Well, you'll keep me informed, of course?"

"Of course."  She wanted to laugh at his agitation, but controlled the urge.  "Do you want to start our session now?"

"What?"  Giles stared blankly.  "Oh.  Yes.  Er, that is, no."  Buffy raised her eyebrows at him.  He pulled himself together.   "What I'm trying to say is that I didn't ask you to come here today for training."

"Oh.  Well, for what, then?"

Giles walked into the back room, returned with a huge book.  "I've been researching that vampire gang you took out two nights ago at the cemetery - "

"I only got two of them," Buffy interrupted.  "The other two got away."

"I remember." Giles looked grim.  "As I was saying, I've been doing research and I don't like what I'm finding out.  If I'm right, I'm afraid they may be only the advance guard for something much worse."  He held the book out.  "Does this look familiar?"

Buffy looked.  On the page were front and back drawings of a vampire clothed in a long, hooded robe with an intricate figure woven into it.  "Well, I couldn't see their faces but that's what they were wearing.  I remember that thing on the robes, ‘cause I couldn't decide what it was supposed to be.  I mean, it looks kind of like a snake, but it has all those legs and antennae and stuff, and it's all twisted up.  Way weird."

"Well, you're right, it is a snake, of sorts," Giles told her.  "But its like has never existed on earth."

Buffy raised her eyebrows again.  "Thank goodness for that.  So are you going to tell me where it does live?"

"They're found only in the demon dimension."

"The demon - " Buffy straightened up with a jerk.  "You mean, in Hell."

Giles nodded.  "In Hell - yes.  Buffy, this is a symbol of the First."

"The First - " Buffy repeated, slowly, " - Evil.  As in, the demon that almost drove Angel to suicide three Christmases ago."  Giles nodded.  Buffy took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  "So she's back."

"Or will be shortly - "  Giles stopped, looked at her curiously.  " ‘She'?  Why do you call It a she?"

"Oh - uh, well, only because the only time I saw It, It looked like a woman.  At least, It did at first," she added, remembering the First's transformation from Jenny Calendar clone into a giant ... something . . . before It disappeared.  Something that looked a lot like the symbol on those robes, now that she thought about it.

Giles looked at her in silence for a moment.  "Buffy, you never did explain to me just what the First was doing with Angel.  I didn't press you because Angel got better and, well, because I knew that it concerned matters that were very personal.  But now that this entity is back, or soon to be, I need to know exactly what happened.  I need to talk to Angel, the sooner the better."

"Yeah."  Buffy sighed, looking pensive.  "You know, I really was hoping Angel and I could have some time together before having to save the world again.  You know, sort of like a honeymoon."

Giles have her a sympathetic smile.  "I know.  Demons simply have no consideration for others."

His gentle humor surprised an unwilling chuckle from Buffy.  "Really.  So rude.  Someone needs to send them a book on manners.  Do's And Don'ts Of Destroying The World."

"Everyday Etiquette For Visiting Demons," Giles put in.  They smiled at each other, then Buffy sighed again.  "Okay, after Angel wakes up I'll tell him what's happening, and call you to arrange a meeting."

"No need to call.  I'll be here; just drop by."  Giles hesitated, then touched her shoulder.  "Buffy, in case I haven't said it properly before, I'm very happy indeed for you and Angel.  I don't know why it never occurred to me that the curse could be changed."  Suddenly he frowned; his hand dropped to his side.

"What?" Buffy wanted to know.

"Buffy, if the curse could be altered that easily - "

"It wasn't that easy," Buffy interrupted.  "In fact, it almost went horribly wrong."  She shivered, remembering.  "If Miss Calendar hadn't helped us - " She stopped abruptly, glancing at Giles.

"Jenny?"  Giles' frown grew bewildered.  "I don't understand."

Buffy hesitated, knowing how much pain he still felt over Jenny's death.  Gently she said, "Giles, she was there last night.  Her spirit, I mean.  She helped us."

"Jenny's spirit ... helped you?"  He turned and walked a few steps, then faced her again.  "Angel killed Jenny.  Why would she help him?"  His voice was stark.

Buffy stood firm but her voice was gentle.  "Because she knows it was Angelus who killed her, not Angel.  Because she doesn't want Angelus to return any more than we do."

"Is that what was happening?" Giles asked sharply.

"Yes.  For a while the demon had control of Angel's body."  Buffy explained how the spirit of Jenny's uncle, who hated Angel and who had also been killed by Angelus, had been preventing Willow and Anya from completing the curse, and how Jenny had lent her strength to Willow, enabling her to finish it.  "Afterward, she told Angel that his soul was now safe and that she knew he wasn't responsible for her death, that she bore him ‘no ill-will.'  Then - she left."

Giles looked away, visibly shaken.  "I - I see.  Well ... I guess that's all for right now.  I'll see you later, yes?  And Angel too, of course."

"Later," Buffy agreed softly.  She put her hand on his arm, conveying her understanding of his disturbed state with a gentle squeeze, then turned to leave.  The bell over the door tinkled as the door opened to admit a young man of about twenty with clear blue eyes and dark-blonde hair.  She stopped in her tracks.  "David?  What are you doing here?  I thought you'd left town."

"Actually, I was hoping to find you," David said.  "When you weren't at your house I remembered you telling me that a friend of yours owned an occult bookstore in town.  It wasn't too difficult to find."

He looked at Giles.  "Hi, I'm David Larson, a friend of Buffy's from school."  He extended his hand; Giles took it automatically.

"Rupert Giles.  A pleasure to meet you."  They shook hands.

"Same here, Mr. Giles.  So you're the one Buffy called about that gang."  David glanced at Buffy.  "Are you with the police?"

"Excuse me?" Giles looked bewildered.

Buffy broke in.  "Uh, Giles, David is the person who overheard that gang I called you about the other night - the ones from L.A. in the cemetery, remember?"  She looked meaningfully at him.

"Oh.  Yes, of course."  Giles rallied.  "The gang in the cemetery - from L.A.  Of course I remember.  I just hadn't realized this was our informant.   But I'm not with the police, Mr. Larson.  I - I have - contacts, that's all."

"Oh.  Well, it's a lucky thing I mentioned what I'd heard to Buffy, then."

"Indeed," Giles agreed.  "We were most grateful for the information."

David nodded, then turned to Buffy.  "I was hoping we could talk.  I haven't had lunch yet; how about you?"

"I've already eaten," Buffy told him.  David's face fell, and she sighed mentally.  Better get this over with.  "But I'll have a Coke or something while you eat, if you want.  There's a coffee shop down the street.  The food's not great, but it's edible and cheap."

David brightened.  "Hey, I'm a student, remember?  Cheap works for me."  He nodded at Giles.  "Nice meeting you, Mr. Giles."

Giles smiled at him.  "Likewise.  Oh, Buffy, you won't forget to pencil in our appointment for tonight in your DayTimer, will you?  I know how busy you get."

Buffy glared at him.  Giles was rather obviously finding this complication in her social life to be quite amusing.  "I don't have a DayTimer."

"No?"  Giles shrugged.  "Well, perhaps you should consider getting one."  His lips twitched.  Buffy shot him another glare and practically dragged David outside.

"Mr. Giles seems very nice," David remarked as they settled into their seats at the coffee shop.  "Have you known him long?"  He opened his menu.

"He was the librarian at my high school," Buffy said.  "He, uh, used to help me with my research."

"Oh, for your classes.  Sure."  The waitress came up and took their order - hamburger, fries and a Coke for David, iced tea for Buffy.  A silence descended which was broken only when the waitress brought their drinks.

"What did you want to talk about?" Buffy finally asked, stirring her tea with the straw.

"What do you think?"  He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his blue eyes earnest.  "I want to talk about us."

"David - " Buffy began.  He interrupted.

"Please, let me finish before you say anything."  He glanced away for a moment.  "Look, I really like you, Buffy, and until the other night I thought you liked me too.  We seem to enjoy the same things, we've never had a fight or even a disagreement - "

"David, we only dated for two months," Buffy reminded him.

"Yeah, so?  I've dated girls who didn't last two weeks because we couldn't agree on where to go eat, or what movie to see, or even what to talk about."  He made a face as she gave him a look.  "Okay, so maybe that doesn't mean anything by itself.  But, Buffy, I think we could go somewhere with this relationship."  He reached across the table and took her hand.  "Can't we give it another try?"

"No, we can't," Buffy said gently but firmly as she disengaged her hand.  "I'm sorry, David, but I just don't feel that way about you.  You're a great person and I do like you, but as a friend, not anything else.  Besides - " She hesitated.

"I don't understand," David said, sitting back in the booth.  "When school ended last week I thought we were going to keep seeing each other during the summer.  We made plans, remember?  You invited me home to meet your mother."

"David, I invited you to stay overnight at my house, that's all.  You have to go through Sunnydale anyway to get home, and I thought it would be a nice break for you.  That's all it was."

"No," David contradicted bluntly.  "That's not all it was.  Something changed after we got here, Buffy.  Before we left school we were making plans to meet every couple of weeks or so, then we come here and suddenly it's over."  He snapped his fingers.  "Just like that.  I think I deserve an explanation.  Did I do something to make you mad at me?"

"Of course not; I would have told you if you had," Buffy said. She looked at him in silence for a moment, then made up her mind.  "Okay, you're right, something did change after I got home, but it wasn't because of anything you did or didn't do.  I just suddenly realized that I wasn't being fair to you.  Like you said the other night, the feeling simply wasn't there for me, and I knew it never would be, so - "

He broke in, staring at her.  "There's someone else, isn't there?"

"Yes," she said simply.  What else was there to say, after all?

"Someone from school?  I didn't know you were seeing anyone else."

"I wasn't."  Buffy shook her head.  "It's no one you know, David.  An old boyfriend."

"I see."  He glanced away.  "Well ... that leaves me with nothing to say except that I wish you well."

Buffy slid out of the booth just as the waitress brought his food.  She fished in her purse, brought out two dollars.  "Here's the money for my tea.  I'm sorry, David."  She left, unaware of his speculative gaze watching her.

Walking in the sunshine toward her car, Buffy sighed, feeling guilty.  I never should have gone out with him for so long.  Oh well, it was only two months; shouldn't take him long to get over it.

Unlocking the car she got in, wondered how to fill the long hours until Angel would waken, finally deciding to go for a run.  After that I guess I'll go see Willow again - or Xander.  She drove home to change but couldn't find anything to change into.

"Where the hell are all my running shorts?" she finally demanded, out loud, after looking in every drawer for them and even checking under the bed.  A thought occurred.  She went to the washing machine and opened the lid.  Sure enough.

Great.  Well, guess I might as well throw them in the dryer.  I can go for my run later, after they're dry.  A huge yawn interrupted her in the middle of this activity.  After starting up the dryer, Buffy wandered back into her bedroom and sat on her bed, yawning again.

Lord, I'm sleepy!  Well, I didn't get much sleep last night, did I?  Her chuckle was disrupted by yet another gaping yawn.  Okay, okay, I can take a hint already!  She lay down and was asleep in minutes.

---

"Buffy. I didn't ... want to go ... without ... seeing you ... one last time." Long, pain-filled pauses punctuated his words. He closed his eyes. He was clammy with sweat and paler than she'd ever seen him.

"Angel, you're not going to die. I can cure you." She wiped the sweat from his face with the washrag. The wound in his shoulder looked worse than ever, the stain of the poison spreading even as she watched. Already ugly streaks of red wisped over his shoulder in back, and below his nipple in front. His pain filled her senses but she pushed it away, knowing she would need all her strength for this battle to persuade him to do what needed to be done.

He tried to focus his eyes. "How?"

"Drink me." She held his eyes commandingly, willing him not to resist. He did, of course, with more force than she'd thought possible in his weakened condition.

"No." His revulsion was plain to see.

"You must. Only the blood of a Slayer can save you."

"Faith - " he choked out, struggling upright.

The memory of Faith throwing herself off the balcony flashed before her eyes. She had to look away. "I tried. I killed her." There would be no poetic justice this time, with the blood of the renegade Slayer curing the one she had poisoned with that damned arrow.

"Then it's over." Summoning strength from some unknown source, Angel rose from the bed and staggered into the next room. She followed him, pulled at his arm.

"Drink me! Angel, you have to!"

"No! Don't ask me to do that." She read the horror in his eyes, but she also saw his hunger - felt his hunger. He swayed on his feet, scarcely able to stand.

"And don't you ask me to watch you die when I can save you! Drink me, Angel!"

"It'll kill you."

She knew his fear, his despair, but was relentless. "Not if you don't take it all." Didn't he know she would gladly give him her last drop of blood if it would save his life?

"No!" He started to turn away.

She hit him in the jaw with her fist. Hard. He rocked back, the shock and disbelief on his face enough to break her heart. Choking back a sob, she hit him again. And again. The third blow had the desired result: he vamped out.

He faced her, snarling. She pulled down the shoulder of her sweater top, baring her neck. He hesitated, and she could feel the struggle within him, but she pulled his head down. His mouth was cold on her neck, and she shivered. He groaned in surrender, and then - he bit.

Even though she'd expected it, the sharp pain startled her. Reflexively, she cried out and tried to jerk away but lost her balance and fell backward, Angel falling with her, landing on top but somehow cushioning the fall as they hit so that she scarcely felt the jar. The muscles of his jaw worked as he drank; she could hear loud, wet noises that reminded her of a nursing baby, feel the warmth of her own blood trickling down her neck and back, and the suction of his mouth.

Unexpectedly, a wave of sheer physical pleasure washed over her, banishing the pain and surprising a soft cry from her lips. When it subsided, leaving a feeling of lassitude in its wake, she realized that she lay sprawled on the floor with Angel's long body stretched out between her legs, a position that evoked poignant memories. The realization sent a throb of longing through her that coincided with another of the pleasure-waves. She gasped. Her body arched reflexively, one leg kicking out; she heard the crash of something falling. Why did she feel so weak? He was taking too much.

"Angel, stop, that's enough," she tried to say, but her voice wouldn't obey her. She attempted to push him off with arms that felt like spaghetti; he didn't budge. The room grew dim and she gave herself over to another wash of pleasure. Then ... his weight on her suddenly vanished.

"Buffy?" It was his voice, anguished and hoarse. "Oh my God, Buffy!" She felt fingers at her neck, seeking a pulse, then ... she was floating in a sea of darkness, warm and comforting. Floating... floating. ...

The next thing she saw was her own body, lying far below her on the floor of the mansion, eyes staring sightlessly upward, with Angel crouched over her, frantically administering CPR. Like watching a movie, she thought, drifting closer. For long minutes Angel worked on her, forcing air into her lungs, leaning rhythmically on her chest, over and over and over again ... to no avail.

I'm dead! she realized with a shock. Finally Angel abandoned his futile attempts to revive her. He gathered her lifeless body in his arms and rocked her, tears streaming down his face. "Why did you do it, Buffy? Oh God, why didn't you just let me die?" Rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He wept over her, harsh, gut-wrenching sobs that shook his body. She shared his agony, weeping uncontrollably herself. "Angel, I'm here; I'm right here," she said, but he couldn't hear her, couldn't feel her hand on his arm. After a long time he stood up, still cradling her body, and started toward the french doors that led to the garden.

She realized his intention. "Angel, no! Don't - please!" But her frantic pleas fell on deaf ears. He stopped, kissed her dead lips, whispered "I love you; forgive me," and swept open the blackout curtains. Bright sunlight streamed in through the glass door, gilding his body. Angel raised a tear-wracked face to the rays as smoke rose from his clothing.

"Angel!" she screamed. He dropped to his knees, laying her body gently on the floor, then burst into flame before her eyes. She heard one tortured shout. Moments later a shower of blackened ash fell across her body. Something metallic glittered in the midst of the ashes: Angel's claddagh ring. "Angel! Noooo!"

---

"No!" Buffy woke with a start. Sitting up, her heart pounding, she shakily pushed her hair back from her face and discovered that it was damp with sweat. Not only that, tears were still wet on her cheeks. Furtively she fingered the tiny scars that were the legacy of Angel's feed off her.

That was some dream! Talk about a full Technicolor extravaganza! It even had Sensurround. I could feel Angel's emotions too - Wait a minute. How could I feel what he was feeling? I know I didn't just imagine it - I was sharing his emotions. Oh God, this wasn't just a dream!

Buffy scrambled to her feet. Bolting out of the house, she flung herself into her car and raced to the mansion.

Quietly she let herself into the house, heard movement in the bedroom. "Angel?"

Angel came into the living room, wearing only sweatpants. He looked shaken. She went to him. "Are you all right? Why are you awake this early?"

"I had a dream, that's all," he told her, not meeting her eyes. "It woke me."

Her heart sank. "Let me guess," she said. "It was about the night Faith shot you - the night I forced you to drink from me, and it had way realistic effects but a very different ending." His startled gaze swung around to hers. "I dreamed it too, Angel. Just now."

"You had the same dream I did? How?" Angel shook his head in bewilderment. "Why?"

"It's one of your fears, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "That the vampire will take over again, that you'll hurt me."

"Hurt you!" He made a short, harsh sound that might have been a laugh and turned away. "I could have killed you that night, Buffy."

"Why didn't you?" she asked.

"What?" Angel stopped his restless pacing and looked at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Why didn't you drain all my blood? Why did you stop?" Buffy walked over to him. "I'm serious, Angel. What stopped you? I know it wasn't me; I was too weak. Please." She took his hand in both of hers, twined their fingers together. "I think it's important that you tell me what happened that night."

He stared down at her with torment in his eyes. "We - we were on the floor. And I was ... feeding off you." His mouth twisted as if the words were acid on his tongue. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I remember the intoxication of it, feeling the power go through me ... healing me. ..."

"Good stuff, huh?" she quipped softly, raising his hand and kissing it. Angel managed a slight smile. "The best," he said. "Just like you."

Buffy smiled and moved closer, pulling his arm around her. "I'm the best?"

Angel bent down, stroked her cheek. "The very best." They kissed. Buffy sighed, laying her head on his chest. "So then what happened? What made you stop?"

Angel frowned, suddenly thoughtful. "I don't know, really. One minute I was ... feeding ... mindlessly, and the next minute I suddenly felt how weak you were, so I - stopped. Barely in time." His voice was grim, but before he could start brooding again Buffy asked, "Is that the way it usually works?"

Angel looked confused. "Excuse me?"

Buffy gazed at him. "You said you were feeding ‘mindlessly.' You meant that you were so focused on feeding that you were unaware of anything else, right?" He nodded. "Is that normal for vampires when they feed?"

"No," he answered, startled into speech by her matter-of-factness. "Not unless the vampire hasn't fed in a very long time, and even then it's a suicidal thing to do."

"So it would have to be starving," she said. Angel nodded. "Or - dying?" He looked at her silently. "Angel, you were dying. You were weak and you were in pain, but even so I practically had to shove your teeth into my neck myself. Of course you were out of control at first. The point is that once the healing took hold, you got your control back."

He started to speak. She held up her hand. "And don't say that you almost didn't, or that it was almost too late. You did stop, and I was fine. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Then why wouldn't you look at me afterward?" Angel seemed startled by his words, as though they had popped out of their own volition.

"What?" Buffy frowned. "When?"

"After you left the hospital, when we were all in the library planning our strategy against the Mayor - you wouldn't even look at me unless you absolutely had to."

"Oh." Buffy bit her lip, remembering. "I was ... embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" Whatever Angel had expected her to say, it obviously wasn't that. He stared at her. "About what?"

Buffy took a step backward, nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and fiddled with it. "Angel, when you - when you drank from me - it was - " She felt herself blushing. "God. It was just incredibly erotic."

The dumbfounded look on Angel's face was priceless; she almost laughed. "Erotic?" he repeated faintly. "I don't understand ..."

"Neither do I," Buffy muttered. "Just take my word for it, okay? Anyway, that was why I couldn't look at you later. I kept ... remembering."

"I thought you were afraid of me." His voice was numb.

Buffy's jaw dropped. "You what?"

Angel walked over to the couch and sank down, his hands dangling loosely between his knees. "I thought that I must have hurt you terribly for you to avoid me like that."

"Oh my God!" Buffy knelt before him. "Angel, no! That's not true. I mean, yes there was pain at first, but I've had cramps that were almost that bad." Her eyes filled. "I'm sorry. God, I had no idea you were thinking anything like that. I knew you'd be feeling guilty, but I thought we could talk about it, later... ." Her voice trailed away.

Angel raised his head and looked at her. "Except that I left, so we never got the chance to talk."

"I wanted you to feel guilty," Buffy confessed in a low voice. "When you told me you were still going to leave, without saying goodbye . . . I was so hurt that I wanted you to hurt too. So I didn't say anything about it, and I could have. Should have."

"I doubt if I would have listened," Angel sighed. "Ah, Buffy." He cupped her face in his hands. "What a mess we made of things. Of us."

"But we have a chance now to make it right," she said, looking in his eyes.

"Yes," he agreed, and kissed her gently, tenderly. Buffy moved closer, putting her arms around his neck. He pulled her up onto his lap and held her tightly. For long minutes they stayed like that, motionless. Buffy finally sighed, signaling a break in her mood.

"Angel, we have to talk. Things are going on that you need to know about."

Angel released her. "Already? No rest for the weary, is there? " he asked with a rueful smile. "What is it this time? Another demon trying to take over the world?"

"I don't know yet." Buffy filled him in on the vampire group she'd broken up two nights previously. She described the device on their robes. As he listened Angel's expression grew grave.

"Giles looked it up and discovered it's a symbol for the First Evil," Buffy finished. Their eyes met as they remembered the last time that particular entity had been around. "Why It's returning we don't yet know."

"To finish the job?" he suggested doubtfully.

Buffy nodded. "Maybe. The dream we shared today ..."

"Just like last time," Angel agreed. "So probably it was sent by the First, just like the others were, before. What is Giles' plan?"

"Well, for starters he wants to talk to you about the last time the First was in town. Says he needs the details about what happened then, that it might help us understand what It's planning this time around."

"You didn't tell him?" he asked in surprise. "I mean, at the time?"

Buffy shook her head. "Only that the First was tormenting you with visions of your past victims," she said. "I didn't see any reason why he needed to know more than that."

"As your Watcher and your friend, he might have been interested to learn that It wanted me to kill you," Angel said in his driest tone.

"The danger was past," Buffy insisted stubbornly. "And that was personal. Besides, I didn't know that many details myself. You never really wanted to talk about it, remember."

"No," he said somberly. "I didn't." There was a shadow in his eyes. Buffy knew he was remembering the First's manipulations of his guilt over his past evil, manipulations which resulted in his attempt at suicide rather than give in to the unceasing pressure that he turn monster again.

She touched his cheek. "Hey. It didn't win then and It's not going to win now."

He turned his dark gaze on her, then forced a smile, of sorts. "You're right. When does Giles want to see me? Tonight, I suppose." When she nodded he said in a rueful tone, "That wasn't exactly what I had planned for this evening." His eyes gleamed suggestively.

"Me either," Buffy sighed. Then she squirmed against him, deliberately provocative. "Maybe it's a good thing I got here early."

"Maybe it is," Angel assented, his faint smile becoming wider. "How much time do we have before the sun sets?"

"Oh, about three hours," Buffy breathed in his ear, just before she nipped its lobe gently between her teeth. Angel drew in a hissing breath, and she moved her attentions to his neck, kissing a path down one side and up the other, with an occasional soft little bite along the way. Reaching his other earlobe, she nipped that too and proceeded to kiss along the line of his jaw until she reached his mouth, which she found waiting for her.

They kissed, lightly, tongues brushing softly. His mouth was cool, something she discovered she had to get accustomed to all over again. She reveled in it, loved the security of his arms holding her safe and close against his chest. Time slowed to a crawl. Her focus narrowed until it contained only his mouth on hers, the press of her body against his. Finally Buffy drew away. Reaching up, she stroked her fingers over his face, learning anew the contours of brow, nose, and cheek, the texture of his skin.

"I could stay like this all day," she breathed contentedly. "Just kissing you."

"Is that right?" he murmured. Their lips met again in a long, lingering kiss. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Angel increased the pressure of his mouth, and she met the demand, pressing herself against him, arms circling his neck.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt; fingertips brushing slow, tantalizing circles up her spine to the back of her neck and then down again. She had never thought of her back as an erogenous zone, but Angel's touch was changing her mind. When at long last they broke apart, between his kisses and his caresses Buffy could feel her heart thumping madly against her rib cage.

"God!" She tried to catch her breath; her blood was singing in her veins. Angel made no reply, only rose to his feet, carrying her with him, and walked to the bedroom. He stopped beside the bed and set her on her feet, then bent down and kissed her neck, gently nipping. Instantly chills ran down her spine; she shivered as the hairs on her arms lifted.

Buffy ran her palms over Angel's shoulders and chest, at the same time planting kisses on his bare skin. She paused to caress his nipples briefly with her fingertips. His low murmur of appreciation encouraged her to substitute her tongue. She licked at one nipple then sucked it, lightly at first, then, as Angel obviously liked what she was doing, more vigorously. To her surprise the flat skin contracted, the nipple transforming to a tiny nailhead of flesh.

Just like mine do, only smaller. I didn't know men's did that too. She repeated her actions on the other side of his chest.

Angel's hands dropped to the hem of her tank top. She raised her arms and he drew it over her head. Stepping back, Buffy sat down and worked her sneakers off with her feet, then scooted into the middle of the bed; Angel following until they lay together, Angel half on top of her, his leg between her thighs. They kissed, deeply now, tongues meeting and thrusting in a preview of the mating ritual. Angel moved down her body to her breasts.

Buffy closed her eyes as his mouth closed over her, then gasped when his tongue began working the sensitive flesh, brushing across her nipple as he gently sucked. Tendrils of heat uncoiled through her body directly into her groin. Her fingers twined in his thick hair, holding him against her. In response he pulled harder on her breast until finally he released the suction and drew his head back, with one last flick of his tongue on the now stiff nipple standing proudly erect and glistening.

Angel leaned over to attend to her other breast, but Buffy forestalled him, raising his chin to claim his mouth, kissing him feverishly. She felt his hand on her, caressing her breast, her navel. He unsnapped her jeans, trying to pull down the zipper one-handed. She reached down to help, then wiggled out of the jeans with his assistance. That left her panties, which were whipped off in a second.

Buffy reached for his sweatpants, untying the drawstring. But instead of pulling them off, she slipped her hands beneath the waistband and over his hips, caressing the firm, smooth buttocks. She squeezed gently, then just as gently raked her nails across the taut muscles. He quivered.

"Buffy," he whispered, kissing her face, her neck. Then his hand was between her legs, cupping her, pressing rhythmically. A fiery thrill shot through her, and she gripped his buttocks hard in response, kneading the firm flesh. Angel sighed audibly and kissed her. His finger dipped into the moisture his caresses had called forth, and slid deep within her.

"You're so wet," he breathed.

"You make me that way," she whispered, then threw her head back and groaned as his now-slick finger gently massaged her clitoris. Already on fire, each stroke lifted her to new heights of desire. Her breaths grew short and labored; her loins throbbed. Suddenly Angel slipped down between her thighs. She felt his hands spreading wide her nether lips, and then the pressure of his tongue on the swollen bud of her passion.

That simple touch was her undoing. The impossibly tight, burning coil in her groin unraveled in an explosion of sensation felt in every cell of her body. Buffy gave an inarticulate cry, gripping the bedclothes in shaking hands as she convulsed. For long moments she was aware of nothing but the bliss of orgasm; then, as the feeling gradually subsided and her pulse returned to something resembling normal she realized Angel still lay between her legs.

He pressed a kiss below her navel. "Did you like that?" Another kiss, this one on her hipbone.

Buffy had to clear her throat before she could answer; her voice was husky. "You know I did." A third kiss, on the inside of her thigh, accompanied by a tiny nip.

"Good." With that his tongue flicked out again, landing unerringly on the most sensitive spot of an area still throbbing from her climax. She gasped as ebbing sensation flared into new life, even stronger than before. Tiny shudders rippled continuously through her body in synchronous rhythm with the motion of his lips and tongue. She tried to say his name but couldn't form the word, couldn't even think how to say it through the passion fogging her mind.

Angel knew she was close to the edge. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back; a rosy flush mottled her chest and face. Her scent flooded his senses, the taste of her was intoxicating. She moaned and gasped, her hands opening and closing spasmodically. He bore down harder, felt the erect knot of her clitoris pulsing beneath his tongue, and impulsively sucked on it.

Buffy cried out hoarsely, her body arching like a bow. Relentlessly he continued his gentle sucking until she forcibly pushed him away. "Stop," she panted, shivering. "Please."

He smiled to himself and began kissing his way up her sweat-dampened body, until he reached the breast she'd prevented him from exploring earlier. The nipple was soft, relaxed. He kissed the tip, just once, then played with it, running his lips over the velvety skin, using the tiny tip to outline their curve, until the sensitive skin began to pucker.

"Angel," Buffy said, laughing. She forced his head away from her breast, ignoring his protesting murmur, and slid her hand down his pants. He was rock-hard beneath them. Her hand curled around him, gently squeezing, stroking. Involuntarily Angel drew in a hissing breath, then, as her questing fingers found and played with the foreskin, he moaned out loud and rolled on top of her.

"Angel, wait," she protested breathlessly. "Let me - "

He cut her off by kissing her, hard. "Not now," he murmured huskily. "Right now I want to feel you around me, feel myself inside you." Rising up on his knees, he pushed his sweatpants down, too impatient to take the extra seconds required to pull them off. With one slow thrust he entered her, groaning as her hot, steamy depths engulfed him.

Buffy cried out. Almost instantly she climaxed again, her muscles clenching and quivering around his erection, arousing him further. Gritting his teeth, he loomed above her, forcing himself to stay still until the last tremor had passed and Buffy lay panting beneath him. Then and only then did he begin moving.

Slowly he withdrew, and just as slowly re-entered, sheathing himself in her until their bodies met. He moved his hips in a slow circular motion, once, twice, then withdrew again. In ... out. In ... out. Thrust and withdraw... .

Buffy whimpered; then: "Sit up," she panted. Angel stopped, confused. "Sit up, the way we did in the shower last night."

Then he understood what she wanted. Sliding his arms behind her, he sat back on his heels, effortlessly pulling her with him. They both groaned as this new position buried him even more deeply within her body. Instantly Buffy put her arms around his neck.

"Now I can hold you," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. Angel buried his face in her neck, breathing in the faint residue of whatever perfume she'd used earlier that day. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and he tingled at their touch.

They began moving again, Angel's hips thrusting upward, Buffy pushing down to meet them. They rained kisses on each other - face, neck, shoulders. At last their lips met in a long, deep kiss. That proved not to be wise.

"Ouch!" Buffy pulled back after a particularly vigorous thrust by Angel. She touched her lip, where a ruby-red drop of blood transferred itself to her finger. She looked at the blood on her fingertip for a moment, then looked at Angel.

"I'm sorry - " he stammered, passion momentarily suspended. Buffy shook her head. "Don't be," she whispered huskily, and held her finger up to his lips, not quite touching them. Angel froze, unable to believe what she was doing.

"Please." She licked the blood off her finger and leaned toward him.

He knew the blood remained on her tongue. He hesitated, then, slowly, he kissed her. As he expected, her mouth opened, and he tasted her blood once again. Even in that tiny drop the power was detectable. It was, after all, Slayer blood.

Still kissing him, Buffy moved her hips suggestively. Within moments passion reclaimed them both. Angel held her close; her hands roamed over his shoulders and back, her nails leaving burning trails on his skin. Fire gathered in his pelvis; inner muscles began contracting. Feverishly he kissed her shoulder, her throat, and felt her doing the same.

"Angel!" she gasped just before she stiffened and he felt her orgasm begin. The convulsive clench-and-release of her body was all it took to trigger his own release. He groaned her name and crushed her to him as his passion spewed forth in spasmodic jerks that convulsed his entire body and felt as if he were trying to ejaculate his toenails.

Angel sagged back on his heels, still holding Buffy, still joined with her. Buffy slumped against him, arms limp at her sides, as spent as he. Gradually her breathing and her heart rate both slowed; one hand stole up to rest on his shoulder and she shifted position slightly, aiming for comfort rather than support.

"This is nice," she breathed, fingers stroking his neck.

"I love you," Angel said by way of reply. He held her loosely, savoring the warmth of her body against his, the satin smoothness of her skin under his palms. His body still thrummed from its release, and between post-coital lassitude and lack of sleep all he wanted to do was lie down with Buffy in his arms and never get up. Well, part of that was do-able, at least. Buffy was half-asleep as it was; apparently she was as tired as he was. Hadn't Joyce mentioned that she wasn't getting enough rest? Gently he urged her off his lap. She gave a little moan of disappointment as their bodies disengaged.

"I'm sorry, was I too heavy?" she roused enough to ask. Angel chuckled softly. "How could that be? You don't weigh as much as a bird." He lay down, kicking off the sweatpants, and Buffy came into his arms, nestling against him trustingly. He drew the covers over them.

"You're one to talk," she mumbled, running a hand down his ribs. "Mr. Skeleton Guy." Her drooping eyelids opened. "Angel, you'll need to eat - I mean, uh... "

"Shh," he whispered, kissing her. "Don't worry about it." Her eyelids shut again, and after a minute so did his.

 

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