"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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When they woke, two hours had passed.  Buffy yawned and stretched.  "Guess I was tired."  She looked at Angel.  "You too."

"You're wearing me out," he told her, deadpan.  Buffy leaned over until their faces nearly touched.  "Well, you better rest up, then," she said, "because I intend to wear you out again later tonight."  She kissed him.  "And the next night, and the one after that, and -"

"I get the picture," Angel told her, chuckling.  Buffy kissed him once more, then rolled off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.  A moment later he heard the shower come on, then the muffled click of the shower door opening and closing.  He took advantage of this moment of privacy to slip back into his sweatpants, go into the kitchen, and gulp down the contents of one of the quart jars of animal blood he'd brought with him from Los Angeles.  Only two jars remained in the refrigerator, and they wouldn't stay fresh much longer; he'd have to restock soon.

Walking over to the sink he first rinsed out his mouth, then the jar, then went in search of towels.  After several minutes of fruitless delving into closets and boxes, he gave up.  Buffy was just stepping out of the shower as he went into the bathroom.

"We have got to do something about the towel situation," she said, briskly rubbing herself dry with the one he'd found the night before.  "One just isn't going to cut it.  Did you find any more?"

Angel shook his head.  "I must have taken the rest with me to L. A."

She shrugged.  "Then I'll have to bring some over.  Dry my back for me?"  She handed him the towel; he patted the beads of moisture from her back.  While engaged in this pleasant task, he said in a voice he tried to make casual, "Why don't you bring some clothes over too, while you're at it?"  He waited tensely for her answer. If breathing were still a necessity for him, he'd be holding his breath.

Buffy stood very still.  "You ... wouldn't mind?"

He knew she was remembering two years past, when she'd suggested that he give her a drawer and space in a closet for her things "because that's what couples do."  Shortly afterward, he'd broken up with her.  Even though it wasn't, strictly speaking, cause and effect, her stubborn - and, in his view, blind - pretense that they were a normal couple had been a factor in his decision not to see her again.

Angel kissed the back of her neck.  "No, I wouldn't mind.  In fact, there's only one thing that would make me happier."  Without turning, she whispered, "What?"

He wet his lips.  "You moving in with me."

Buffy did turn around then.  "You want us to live together?"

"Yes."  He put his hands on her shoulders.  "I want to be with you, Buffy.  I don't want us to be apart ever again."

"Neither do I," she said, softly.  Her eyes searched his.  "So you'll be moving back here?"

"Of course.  You can't leave Sunnydale; I know that.  Besides, I'm ready for a change of scenery."

Buffy was silent for a moment, then, "You never did tell me what you've been doing in Los Angeles."  She stepped back; he followed her into the bedroom, where she began dressing.

"You don't know?"  Surely her mother had mentioned it today.  Or Giles.

Buffy glanced at him.  "How could I know?" she said, pulling on her knit tank top.  "Giles kept your secret, Angel.  I didn't find out until this afternoon that he'd known where you were the whole time."  She sat on the bed to put on her shoes and socks.

Angel thought he detected a trace of bitterness in her voice.  "Giles must have explained why he didn't tell you."  He joined her on the bed, turning sideways to face her.

"He did, and I understand why he kept quiet," she acknowledged.  "Given your ultimatum, he had no choice."  She finished tying the laces.  "That doesn't mean I have to like it," she added ruefully, then shrugged.  "I'll get over it, Angel; don't worry.  Now, what have you been doing for two years?  You said Mom came to see you in your office.  What kind of office?"

"I have an investigation agency."

She blinked.  "You're a detective?"

"Of sorts."  He began a rundown of his activities, intending to be brief about it, but somehow the telling of them stretched out.  Finally he found himself talking about one of the most painful memories.

"She was my first client - actually, not even a client, just the first person I singled out to help.  Her name was Tina and she was trying to get away from her rich boyfriend.  I found her in her apartment, dead.  Her boyfriend had killed her - by draining her blood."

"Vampire?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Vampire," Angel confirmed.  "Rich, as I said, and powerful.  That night I found out where he lived and paid him a visit - and got an unpleasant surprise: his next intended victim was there too."

"What happened?"

Angel shrugged.  "I managed to get both of us out in time, and the next morning went to see him at his office.  You should have seen the place, Buffy.  It was in one of those huge buildings that are all windows, thirty floors up, a conference room practically the size of the Bronze, an army of lawyers - and every one of them knew what he was.  He boasted that L.A. was his city and he could do anything he wanted to.  But he was wrong."

He smiled grimly.  "There was one thing Russell Winters found out he couldn't do."

"Piss you off?" Buffy guessed.

Angel's smile turned feral.  "He couldn't fly.  Well, not in the daylight."

"He couldn't fly?" Buffy repeated, confused.

Angel explained.  "He had a slight accident. I sent his chair crashing through the window - while he was still in it.  Thirty stories up, remember?  Not even his ashes made it to the ground."

"Oh."  Slightly stunned, Buffy groped for something to say.  "So you've been helping people."

"Trying to, yes."

"Are you sure you want to give that up, Angel?  Think of the good you're doing."

"Am I?  Sometimes I wonder."  He shook his head.  "I'm burned out, Buffy.  I need a rest."

"I can imagine."  She put her hand on his, studied his somber face.  "It's hard enough fighting demons here in Sunnydale.  I can't imagine trying to do it in a place like Los Angeles, especially not all alone."

Angel saw his chance.  "Neither can I.  Luckily, I'm not alone.  There's a police detective named Kate; we've worked a lot of cases together.  And for a while I had a half-demon named Doyle helping me, but he died.  And then there's, uh, Cordelia."

Buffy's jaw sagged.  "Cordelia?  Our Cordelia?"

Angel nodded.  "She was the second victim Russell Winters had lined up.  After I rescued her she started working for me.  To be honest, it was Cordelia who really got the agency on its feet.  She got the office organized, handed out business cards, sent out invoices, you name it."

"Cordelia," Buffy repeated, still trying to come to terms with the concept.  "I thought she was trying to be an actress."

"She was at first.  But now she works for me.  With me.  And she's a big help."

"Ohh-kaay."  Buffy took a deep breath.  "Anything else?"

Angel paused. "Well, someone else you know is also part of the team." At her inquiring glance, he added, "Wesley."

Buffy's jaw dropped again. "You're not serious."

Angel smiled. "He's changed a lot since you knew him, Buffy."

"What, you mean he's not a pompous, self-righteous prig anymore?"

"No, he's not. Well, not really," Angel amended. "He's an extremely valuable member of Angel Investigations. I owe him a lot."

Buffy sat for a moment, absorbing everything. "Well. Okay." She eyed him warily. "Do you have any more startling announcements to make? 'Cause I'm not sure I can handle another one just yet."

Angel laughed. "Not that I can think of, no."

"Good."  She stood up.  "Because I'm starved.  You must be too."  She glanced at him with a hesitant air.

"I took care of it while you were in the shower," he told her.  "I brought a few supplies with me."

"Oh.  Okay.  Well then, why don't I go home and grab a bite to eat, and then meet you at Giles' place in an hour or so?"

"Or," he suggested, also standing, "you could wait while I take a shower and change.  It's almost sundown; I'll take you out to dinner and then we'll go see Giles."

"Dinner?"  Buffy's smile lit up her face.  "I like that plan even better."  She paused, then added, almost shyly, "It'll be like a real date."  Her face clouded over.  "Which, come to think of it, isn't something we ever had much luck with in the past."

"Then it's time we changed our luck."  Angel kissed her, but briefly, aware of the blood-taint on his breath.   "No argument there," she agreed.  While Angel showered she called home to let her mother know to expect her when she saw her, guiltily relieved when the answering machine picked up.  Not that she expected her mom to give her any hassles, it was just easier not to have to go into any explanations right now.

"Mom, it's me.  Just wanted to let you know I probably won't be home tonight and I'll give you a call tomorrow.  Love you."  Then she sat down on the couch to wait for Angel.  And thought about everything she'd just learned about this complex person she loved.

She didn't have much time for reflection.  In less than ten minutes Angel strolled out of the bedroom, wearing brown Dockers and a dark green pullover, his hair still damp.  "Where would you like to go?" he asked.

Buffy grinned.  "Do you like Mexican?"

"I won't be eating," Angel reminded her.

"Oh, yeah.  I forgot."  Buffy looked chagrined.  "Well, there's this great place at the end of Main Street - "

"Casa Mexicana?"

"Si.  Okay, vamos a Casa Mexicana."  Buffy grabbed up her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder.  "See, I knew those two years of high school Spanish wouldn't go to waste."

Angel found his keys and they walked outside.  The sun was just setting, and the bright glow made Buffy squint.  She put her hand on Angel's arm.  "Angel, is this okay for you, or do we need to wait for the sun to go down more?"

"I'm all right," he assured her.  "It feels warm, that's all.  Feels good, actually."  They got into his convertible.

---

David bit gloomily into an overloaded nacho.  It broke in two, dumping beans, cheese, and salsa directly onto his last clean shirt.  Wet side down, of course.  Naturally.  That was just what he needed.

He carefully captured the fragment in his dinner napkin, then dipped the cocktail napkin in his glass of water and wiped at the stain.  It never did much good, but he always tried anyway - just in case.   After a minute he gave up and sank back into his gloomy brooding.

Buffy.  What the hell had happened?  He was still in shock.  How could their situation change so quickly?  One day planning to get together in two weeks, the next telling him it was over.  An old boyfriend, she'd said, and he had to believe her because at least that made some sense.  But he wondered - he wondered very much - just what the story was with this "old boyfriend."

If the feeling between them was so intense that it could be re-ignited this fast, why had he been an ex?  It couldn't be someone who'd dumped her, because there was no way Buffy would go back to someone like that.  She had more self-esteem than that, he was confident.  Someone she'd dumped?  Maybe - but then why take him back now?  Had he been a druggie who was now rehabilitated?

He sighed, resigned to the fact that he would probably never know the backstory.  Damn it, he really liked Buffy, not to mention she was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen.  When she looked at him with those big, expressive eyes ...   He would really miss her.  Looking around, he finally caught his server's eye and motioned for his check.  Five minutes later he headed for the door.  Engrossed in replacing the money in his wallet he didn't watch where he was going, and collided with the person just entering.

"Sorry," he apologized, then stopped.  "Buffy.  Uh, hi."

"David.  You're still in town."  Her voice was polite, but held a question.

"I was just getting something to eat before heading home."  David shoved his wallet in his back pocket.

"Well, you chose a good restaurant.  It's one of my favorites."  Her eyes flicked to the spot on his shirt.  He winced mentally.

"Yeah, it was real good."  Gesturing at the food stain.  "Messy, but good."  She smiled faintly, and he moved aside, holding the door open for her.  "Well ... ‘bye.  I'll see you sometime, I guess.  When school starts again."

"Yeah, see you."  She passed him with a nod; he heard her telling the hostess, "Table for two, please.  My date is parking the car; he'll be along in a moment."

Once outside David took a deep breath and walked the short distance to his car.  The sky was just beginning to darken above the salmon and gold tints that still brightened the horizon.  He started to open the door, then stopped, glancing back at the restaurant.  A large group of people was just going inside, several men among them.  He wondered if one of them was the "old boyfriend."

Scanning the tables next to the window he saw no sign of Buffy; evidently the hostess had seated her out of his sight.  He gnawed his lip, then suddenly came to a decision.  Crossing the street to a small park about half a block up, he found a spot where he could see the restaurant door, and waited.  And waited.

An hour later he was still waiting, and beginning to question the sanity of his actions.  What kind of person spied on an ex-girlfriend?  A seriously disturbed person, that's who.  There was a name for people like that.  Stalkers.  Was he a stalker?

No, he decided.  He was just curious about this old new boyfriend, that's all.  Just wanted to see him, see what he looked like.  Just see what he had that he, David, didn't.  See what they looked like, together, as a couple.  See if there was even the remotest chance he might be able to -

He snapped to attention.  A blonde girl was leaving the restaurant.  He craned his neck as she looked up.  Yes, it was Buffy; no mistake about that.  Now to take a look at her companion - Damn!  They were walking away from him.  All he could tell was that the guy was tall and dark-haired.  And that his arm was around Buffy's shoulders.

David hovered indecisively for a second, then checked the sparse traffic and hurried across the street.  Careful to act nonchalant, and keeping a good distance between them, he trailed the couple for about a block before they stopped beside a nondescript car parked at the curb.  It was some sort of convertible, he saw, dark in color.  And big.

He turned and walked rapidly back to his own car, sprinting once he could be sure it wouldn't draw their attention.  Thank goodness he was parked on the same side of the street that they were.  Checking behind him for traffic, he pulled out into the street just in time to see a dark car up ahead doing the same, from the area where he knew they had parked.  Cautiously he edged closer, until he could distinguish Buffy's blonde head in the front seat and was able to read the license plate:

Angel

A vanity plate; it figured.  This guy thought he was an angel?  What an ego!  David sneered, then eased up on the accelerator and dropped back, careful to keep the car in sight.  The trip wasn't a long one; in only a few minutes he saw them turn into a parking space in front of a store he recognized as the bookshop Buffy's friend, Mr. Giles, owned.

Wondering, he pulled into the nearest side street, turned around, and parked, leaving the motor running.  Ten minutes later he switched off the ignition.  Another ten and he settled back in the seat, sighing.  What in the world were they doing in there so long?  After a while he dozed off.

---

"Angel."  Giles hurried forward, his hand outstretched.  "My God, man, you look terrible."

Angel shook hands, amused.  "Thanks.  Nice to see you too."

Giles smiled ruefully.  "I'm sorry; that was rude of me.  Joyce told me you'd lost a lot of weight, but - "  He shook his head.  "Well, I'm sure that problem will mend itself now that you're home again."

"If the First doesn't interfere."  Buffy got right to the point.  "What have you found out, Giles?"  She plopped herself down in a chair at the long table, now cleared of extraneous books, dropping her purse on the floor beside her.  Angel took the chair next to her; Giles sat down opposite.

"Not much, I'm afraid," he sighed.  "In brutal fact, not a thing beyond what we knew this afternoon: that servants of the First are in town."

"Who are they, exactly?  And what do they do besides gather in graveyards?  Are they like those priests from last time - the Harbinger dudes?"

"They're similar" Giles agreed.  "But unlike the Harbingers, these are vampires.  This group is called the Harrowers.  It's an agricultural term, meaning the ones who harrow, or break up, the soil in a field to make it ready for the crop."

"The seeds of which are sown by the First, to continue the agricultural simile," Angel said.

Buffy tapped her nails on the tabletop, glancing at Angel.  "And we know firsthand what It likes to reap."

"Fear.  Guilt.  Pain," Angel said somberly.

"Discord," Giles added.  "Hatred; shame; all the negative emotions."  He hesitated.  "Angel, I'm sorry to have to bring back painful memories, but I must know exactly what happened the last time the First was here."

Angel nodded.  "It's okay."  He hesitated, forcing himself to meet the gaze of this man who had every reason to hate him, but who had somehow risen above it to become, if not a friend, at least an ally.  "Giles, some of what I'll be telling you - "

"I know," Giles interrupted.  "Buffy told me that the First was tormenting you with nightmares about your victims.  It didn't require a great deal of thought to realize that probably included Jenny."

No one spoke.  He looked down at his folded hands.  "It's been three years since Jenny died, Angel.  I won't pretend that the memory of her death doesn't still hurt.  It does; I expect it always will."

Angel's jaw was clenched tight, as were his hands under the table.  Buffy reached over and covered one white-knuckled fist with her hand, offering what comfort she could.  Her heart twisted with grief and sympathy for both men.

Giles continued.  "But I've had a lot of time to reflect on ... events.  I know that it wasn't you who killed her, Angel, even if your hands were the physical instruments of her death.  Angelus controlled your body at that time, not you.  It was Angelus who wanted Jenny dead.  It was Angelus who killed her."   He straightened, meeting Angel's eyes.  "And for your sake I wish to God there were some way you didn't have to suffer from the memory of what that vampire demon did."

Angel's hands relaxed as he fought a wave of emotion.  "Thank you," he said.  "I think the revised curse will help a bit with that."

Giles blinked.  "Er, it will?"

"Oh," Buffy remembered.  "I didn't tell you about that part.  Giles, the original curse not only restored Angel's soul to his body, it intensified his feelings of guilt.  ‘Tenfold.' "

"Guilt enhancement.  Good lord, of course," Giles said thoughtfully.  "If anyone would do such a thing it would be the Rom.  Understandable, I suppose, under the circumstances.  I've never heard of anyone surviving such a curse for as long as you, though.  Generally the victim either goes mad or suicides within a decade or two, sometimes only a matter of years."

"That's what Anya said," Buffy put in.

"She was correct - as she usually is," Giles replied drily.  He regarded Angel with respect bordering on awe.  "I can't even begin to imagine what the last hundred years have been like for you.  You're very strong, Angel.  Stronger than I ever imagined."

He wasn't referring to physical strength, Buffy knew.  Angel stirred, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.  "Getting back to the reason we're here tonight," he said pointedly, "do we know why the First is returning?"

Giles was still gazing at him.  "I have a feeling that what we were just discussing ties in with the First's return, although I don't yet know how.  But you're right, we must attend to the business at hand."  He brought himself back to the present.  "Now, I want to hear every detail about the last time It was here."

Angel told Giles about the dreams, the hallucinations.  About Daniel, the young man he'd killed - whom Angelus had killed - the week of his wedding.  About Margaret, the hapless maid with a son to support who was afraid to protest the attentions of a guest of the house for fear of losing her job.  Angelus had drained her of blood in the middle of a party.  About the nameless man who'd come home to find his wife and children dead, although he'd not realized it at first, since Angelus had arranged them to look as if they were merely sleeping.

At this point Angel's voice faltered.  Angelus had followed a similar pattern after killing Jenny, leaving her body in Giles' bed for him to discover.

"Go on," Giles said, expressionless.  "You dreamed about them all?"

Angel nodded.  "Constantly.  Then I started seeing them everywhere I went.  Hearing them, their anger, their reproaches.  Their contempt.  I saw them on the street, in your apartment, Giles - in Buffy's bedroom."

"When you came to warn me to keep away from you," she realized.  "That's why you acted so strangely."

"She wanted me to take you, to end the pain by losing my soul again.  ‘Think of the peace,' she said."  He shuddered, closing his eyes.

" ‘She'?" Giles asked sharply, glancing at Buffy.

"Jenny."  There was silence, then Angel opened his eyes.  He sat up.  "No.  It wasn't really Jenny.  It was the First, in Jenny's seeming."

"Did It always manifest to you as Jenny?" Giles wanted to know.

"Usually," Angel replied slowly.  "Sometimes It was Margaret or Daniel, but mostly It pretended to be Jenny."

"Because Jenny was the most recent victim in your memory," Giles guessed, softly.  "She was your sharpest grief and your greatest guilt."

"Yes," Angel whispered, tears springing to his eyes.  "I'm sorry, Giles.  If there were any way to undo what happened, I'd do it."

Giles swallowed.  "I know you would.  Thank you."  After a second he cleared his throat.  "Well, er, what I don't understand is why the First was doing all this.  What did It want?  Was all that torment designed solely to make you lose your soul again, and if so, why?"

"It wanted me to kill Buffy," Angel said.

Giles stared.  "It what?"

"It tried to make me kill Buffy.  Giles, I'm not sure now that I was the intended victim at all.  I think It wanted Buffy, and torturing me was just an added attraction."

Buffy frowned.  "That doesn't make sense, though.  Why go to all that trouble?  If the First wanted me dead, there are dozens of easier ways to do it."

"There could be several reasons, actually," Giles told her.  "As Angel said, tormenting him added to the pleasure.  And knowing that Angel was your killer would make your anguish that much greater.  Evil thrives on that sort of thing.  Also, if Angel did succumb, the First would have created a powerful ally.  By the way, why did you never happen to mention that It tried to make Angel kill you?"  He gazed at her sternly.

The bell over the door chimed just then, saving Buffy from having to answer.  "The store is closed," Giles began, looking up.  "Oh, hello.  What are you doing here?"

"A better question," said Xander, "might be what are all of you doing here without us?"  He stared pointedly at the books scattered on the table.  "Looks like a council of war to me.  How come we weren't invited?"

"Something's going on, isn't it?" Willow asked.  Demanded.  "Something Hellmouthy, I mean."

"Well, yes, but - "  Giles glanced at Angel and Buffy, uncertain if they would want the gang in on this particular matter.  "It's rather personal, and - "

Oz interrupted.  "Would it have anything to do with dreams?"

"As in, going in and out of each other's?" Xander added.

"Worst-case scenario type of thing?" came Willow's contribution.

The trio at the table exchanged startled looks.  "You guys have been sharing dreams?" Buffy asked.

"Not dreams - nightmares," Xander corrected her.  "Remember when I was Hyena Guy?"

"You dreamed about that?"

"No," said Willow, shivering.  "We dreamed it, Xander and I.  Last night.  It was - awful."

"In it I attacked Willow," Xander said grimly.  "Physically, I mean, not just verbally.  And I killed her."

"So that's why you couldn't get back to sleep," Buffy said to Willow, who nodded.  Buffy looked at Oz.  "You had one too?"

He nodded.  "Early this morning.  In the dream I wolfed out and jumped Xander."

"Ripped my throat out with one lunge," Xander stated.  "So not fun.  So once we compared notes and realized what was going on, we figured Giles might have some answers.  And look who else we find here - the Slayer and Dead Guy."

He raised his eyebrows, obviously waiting for a response.  For some reason his usual nickname for Angel didn't raise Buffy's hackles - maybe because his tone lacked the biting edge it normally acquired when talking about, or to, Angel.  In fact, it was downright mild.

Buffy looked at Angel.  He shrugged and said, "There's no point in trying to keep them out now; they're already in.  And for their own safety, they need to know."

Buffy motioned to the rest of the chairs.  "Better sit.  This may take awhile."  As the gang settled themselves, she went on.  "Remember the Christmas that Angel almost killed himself?"

"Sure," said Willow.  "The First Evil was sending him all these horrible - " She jerked upright with a gasp.  " - dreams!  And - and you were in some of them with him!  Is that what's happening now?  Is the First sending these dreams?"

"Yes," Buffy said.

"We believe so," Giles, always the epitome of precision, amended.

"Why?" asked Oz, simply.

"That's what we're trying to determine," Giles said.  "So far, unfortunately, we have more questions than answers."  He filled them in, with frequent assists from Buffy and Angel.  "And now I find that you three are having shared dreams.  Is the focus shifting to you now, and if so, why?"

"Uh, Giles?"  Buffy raised her hand.  "We didn't have a chance to tell you, but Angel and I shared a dream this afternoon too."

"You did!" Giles leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his eyes bright and alert. "What was it about?"

"The night Buffy cured me from Faith's arrow, the night I drank her blood," Angel replied.

"The night I forced you to drink my blood," Buffy stated firmly.

Angel gave her a faint smile. "The night Buffy forced me to drink her blood," he corrected himself. "Except in the dream I didn't stop in time, and she died."

"And then Angel killed himself by standing in the sunlight," Buffy added, growing pale. "It was horrible. I couldn't stop him."

"Me either!" Willow exclaimed. "I kept trying to pull at Xander's arm, but I was a ghost and he couldn't feel me. He walked right in front of a big truck."

"Xander, in your dream you killed yourself?" Giles asked. When Xander nodded, he looked at Oz. "And yours?"

"Yeah," was all Oz said, but Buffy noticed Xander swallow hard and look away. Suddenly she knew - how, she couldn't tell, but she knew - that Oz's dream had been about the night he and Cordelia found Xander and Willow kissing. But in the dream he'd killed Xander - and then himself.

"So we appear to have a suicide theme going here," Angel noted. "Does that get us anywhere?"

Giles considered. "Hard to say. It could indicate that the First always works indirectly, rather than your case being an isolated incident."

Angel shook his head. "It wanted me to kill Buffy. That's about as direct as you can get."

"No, it isn't," Willow disagreed. "Direct would be for It to kill Buffy Itself, not have you do it for - It." She made a face. "That pronoun's way too indefinite."

"Willow's right," Oz said quietly. "And Angel may be right about Buffy being the real target." They all turned to him. "Think about it. What would happen if we all succumbed to the dreams, and killed ourselves, the way Angel tried to three years ago? Buffy would be alone, and emotionally devastated."

"An easy target," Xander said. Buffy looked at him. "Easier, anyway," he quickly amended. "Giles, have you had any dreams?"

"I? No." Giles looked surprised. "Well, not yet," he added, turning thoughtful. "If our hypothesis is correct, I suppose I would be a logical next step." He frowned suddenly. "Buffy, perhaps you should warn your mother also."

Buffy looked startled. "Mom? But she doesn't have anything to do with this."

"Not with your Slayer activities, no," Giles said gently. "But she is your mother, and your emotional bond is strong. If the First is now attacking those closest to you - "

"I'll warn her tonight." Buffy's face grew hard, her expression implacable. "God damn it, I am sick and tired of this bullshit."

Jaws dropped all around the table. "Er - what, exactly, are you tired of?" Giles inquired faintly.

"I'm sick of having every happy occasion in my life be spoiled by the Hellmouth. I can't have a birthday, or a prom night, or even a goddamn date for coffee without some big demon or monster or something popping up and ruining it. And now that Angel and I finally have a chance at happiness, they're trying to take that away too. I have had it. If the First wants a fight, I'll give It one to remember."

There was a moment of silence, then Xander coughed. "Um, Buff? I agree with you totally, don't get me wrong, but - the First doesn't want a fight. The First wants you dead."

"Too bad, It's getting a fight. What are you trying to do, spoil my big speech?" Buffy gave him a mock-scowl, while he pretended to cower in fear.

"It was a great speech," Willow hurried to say. "And I agree with you too."

"Indeed," Giles assented. "And I'm sure I can safely say that all of us here pledge our assistance." He stood. "I believe we've covered about all we can tonight. Unless someone has a further contribution?"

He gazed around the table, but there were no volunteers. "Very well. Buffy, perhaps you and Angel should patrol the cemetery where the Harrowers gathered the other night." Willow and Oz also rose, then Xander struggled upright.

"Would they go back to the same place?" she asked. Angel got up, pulled Buffy to her feet. She yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Excuse me."

"Someone didn't get enough sleep last night," Xander chanted in a sing-song under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. She ignored him.

"I don't know," Giles was saying. "I don't know if that spot has particular importance or if it was just handy."

"Maybe we should do a sweep of all the cemeteries," Angel suggested, frowning.

"That would take until dawn," Giles remonstrated. "And you're both obviously tired - yes, I saw that yawn, Buffy. Please don't exhaust yourselves; you may need your strength later on. Just check the cemetery we know they were at before, then get some sleep. I think that will be sufficient for tonight."

"Aye-aye, captain!" Buffy gave him a smart salute. "Early to bed for me."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," came the annoying chant behind her. She spun around, glaring, only to meet Xander's knowing grin. Annoyance struggled with amusement, and amusement won. She smiled sweetly at him and whispered, "I didn't say a word about sleeping, did I?" then turned away and took Angel's hand.

Angel chuckled as they left, and she knew he had heard every word. She moved in front of him, arms around his waist, met his amused gaze, and demanded, "Well, did I?"

"Not a word," he agreed, and bent down to kiss her. A loud "Ahem!" interrupted them.

"Sorry to intrude," Willow chirped. "Just wanted to say goodnight, and be careful." Oz nodded his agreement.

"Goodnight," they chorused. "Goodnight, Xander," Buffy added as that young man came up.

"Goodnight," he said. "Be careful, okay? Both of you." He glanced at Angel.

"Uh, thanks. We will," Angel replied. They watched him lope away, then Angel said, "Is he sick? He's been almost friendly toward me ever since I got back."

"I was just wondering the same thing myself," Buffy said. She sighed and changed the subject as a lone car came rattling down the empty street. "We better get into something a little more patrol-friendly. Let's go to my house. I can warn my mom about bad dreams and pack a bag for tomorrow, then we can go to the mansion to change. Sound good?"

"Sounds good."

David opened his eyes blearily. The lights still blazed away inside the bookstore. Good lord, were they still in there? He switched on the ignition and read the time. They'd been there for an hour; what were they doing?

He yawned, then sat up. Wait, someone was coming out - Buffy and her new companion. They walked only a short distance before stopping for a kiss. A moment later David blinked in surprise. When had the rest of the gang dropped by? He must have slept longer than he'd realized.

He watched as goodbyes were exchanged. Since his window was rolled down he was also able to hear the cautions to be careful, and wondered what they needed to be so careful about. Just then a car cruised by, and the noise from its engine drowned out whatever Buffy was saying. David started up his engine, waited until the convertible was halfway down the street, and took off after them.

He followed the car to Buffy's house. This time the wait was short; in less than fifteen minutes they came out again, Buffy's boyfriend carrying a large suitcase which he put in the trunk. He tailed them again for several miles until they pulled up in front of a huge house set in what had to be at least an acre of land.

Afraid of being conspicuous if he stopped, David elected to drive past the house, trusting that Buffy wouldn't look up at the wrong moment and recognize his car. House? It was a mansion! This guy must be rich. He slowed down just enough to see the suitcase being pulled out of the trunk.

His heart sank. Whether just an overnight stay or the first step toward Buffy moving in, it wasn't a good sign. It also didn't look as if he'd find out anything more about this guy tonight. He didn't mind following them, but was damned if he'd stoop to peeking in windows. David stopped and made a U-turn, intending to head back to town, when a sudden shift in the breeze brought Buffy's voice to him as clear as a bell.

"Let's hurry up and change. Our sweep shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, then we can come back here and celebrate."

"Didn't we do that last night?" It was a male voice, not a deep one, more tenor or baritone, even somewhat soft. Right now it sounded amused.

"That doesn't mean we can't celebrate again tonight. Come on."

David pulled cautiously forward, just in time to see them going into the house. Guessing that they would be headed back to town, he backed up about half a block. What was it Buffy had said about a sweep? What on earth did that mean? He had no trouble deciphering the rest of their conversation, the part about celebrating. Maybe he wouldn't go home just yet, after all.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before they emerged once again. Between the bright moon and the porch light he was able to see that they had changed clothes. Both were now wearing something dark and tight-fitting. Buffy had a dark beret or hat covering her hair.

Their car turned toward town; he had guessed correctly. Once more he followed. When they finally stopped he could hardly believe his eyes. A cemetery? What in heaven's name was going on? This time he stopped well behind their car, waited until they were out of sight, then turned off the engine and got out.

---

As they got out of the car Buffy commented, "I still can't get used to the idea of you even owning a car, much less driving one. How long have you had it?"

Angel hesitated a beat. "About two years." He closed his door and they began their sweep.

Buffy thought, Two years? He must have gotten it when he decided to leave Sunnydale. When he decided to leave *me*.

Never mind that she'd understood his reasons for leaving and had even come to accept the necessity, though for his sake not hers. The old, familiar ache rose in her breast, and she blinked back a sudden moisture in her eyes.

Stop it, Buffy. Angel's here now, and you're together as you both always wanted to be. If you keep fretting about the past you'll never be able to move into the future.

It was good advice, even wise advice, so Buffy was astonished to hear herself saying, before they'd covered more than two sections, "Why did you tell me that you didn't want to be with me, the night we broke up? Why did you lie? Because I know it was a lie." Taking a deep breath, she managed to keep her tone from being accusatory but she couldn't disguise the pain. "Did you have any idea how much that hurt?"

Angel didn't say anything at first. They stopped beneath a stand of trees, and he turned to face her. "Yes. Because I know how much it hurt me to - to let you believe it." Looking in his eyes, she had to believe him.

"Then why did you say it - " Buffy stopped, struck by Angel's careful phrasing. He said it hurt him to let me believe it, not that it hurt him to *say* it. She thought back to that night, every moment of which was branded in her memory.

"I want my life to be with you," she'd said desperately.

"I don't." He'd seemed to force the words out, but consumed with her own emotions she hadn't noticed.

"You don't want to be with me?" He didn't answer, but his silence was answer enough. Or so she'd thought.

"You didn't say it," Buffy stated quietly.

Angel hesitated a second. "No."

"You only said you didn't want my life to be with you, not that you didn't want to be with me."

"Yes," he admitted. "I tried to say the other, but - the words wouldn't come. Then when I saw that you'd misunderstood anyway, I ... let it stand. I thought that might make it easier for you."

"Easier?" Buffy didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or smack him one. "Well, it made it easier to believe that being with me was too painful for you, since we couldn't make love."

"That was never the issue," he said quickly, moving closer. "Your happiness was - your future happiness."

"I know that - now." She was quiet for a moment. "So, it was a misunderstanding on my part, just like when you mistook what I was feeling after you bit me." She slid her arms around his waist and leaned against him. "Why does love have to be so complicated?"

Angel held her. "People have been wondering that since time began. We're lucky, though. One of our complications has been removed."

He tangled his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back. Bending down, he kissed her gently, savoring the softness of her lips, her instant response. Her mouth opened and he felt the brush of her tongue on his lips. She moved closer, her hands caressing his back. He deepened the kiss, holding her tight, until she was breathless. Finally she stepped back.

"Let's hurry and finish this sweep," she murmured. "It's getting late, and I promised Giles I'd go to bed early."

Angel smiled. "I certainly wouldn't want you to break a - "

Close by, something gave a soft crack! They spun around.

---

There they were, beneath that grove of trees. Thank God; he'd been afraid that he'd lost them. Actually, he'd just been afraid, period. Cemeteries were creepy enough in the daytime. At night ... . He shivered. Crouching down behind a tall headstone, David saw the pair come together in a long kiss that grew more passionate by the second.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Buffy had never kissed him that way - not even close. The last fleeting bit of hope that he might win her back vanished as he watched. Shoulders slumped in defeat, he turned to leave. His foot came down on a twig, snapping it in two. Though the sound was barely audible, even to him, the couple beneath the tree whirled around.

"Who's there?" The male voice, soft though it was, held authority; obediently, David stopped. Buffy and her - friend - came toward him. No, not a friend. This man was her lover; that was painfully obvious.

Heretofore, David had only seen him from a distance. Now he was able to examine him up close. Tall; broad shoulders; dark hair and eyes; fair-skinned. Extremely fair-skinned. David supposed he would be considered handsome. He looked to be in his late twenties, and was very thin. Almost gaunt, in fact. Taken in conjunction with his pallor, David would have thought the man was ill had he not already seen the way he moved, with the controlled power and strength of a lion.

"David?" Buffy exclaimed, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

The man glanced at her questioningly. "Friend of yours?"

"Maybe not," she replied, still staring at David. "You've been following me, haven't you?" It wasn't really a question.

David sighed. "Don't worry, Buffy. I'm not a stalker. Yes, I followed you here from the restaurant. I just wanted to see ... well, I was going to say ‘my competition,' but you've made it clear that there is no competition, so I guess I'll have to say that I wanted to see the lucky guy who got you."

Instantly he grimaced. "Oh God, that didn't come out right at all!" A flash of sympathetic amusement crossed the tall man's face. David stammered, "Look, I didn't mean that the way it sounded - like you were the prize in a contest or something. I just meant - uh - oh hell, I better just go before I make a complete ass of myself."

"What makes you think you haven't already?" Buffy said drily.

David winced. "Touche. Sorry; I'll go now."

"Wait." It was the tall man, whose name he still didn't know. "Buffy - " He didn't complete his sentence; Buffy was already nodding.

Buffy put her hand on David's arm. "David, it's not safe to go wandering around here. Angel and I will go with you to wherever you left your car. It's not far, is it?"

"Not really; just a little distance behind yours," he replied absently, thinking, His *name* is Angel? Then his brain caught up with his ears. "What do you mean, it's not safe?"

"We, uh, think that gang is still around," she said.

He looked from Buffy to Angel and back again. "So why are you two here if it's so dangerous?"

"It's my job," Angel said smoothly.

David examined him from head to foot. "You're a cop?"

"No."

David waited. "FBI?" Silence. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. You're the Mystery Guy." He turned to Buffy. "I suppose it's your job too," he said sarcastically.

"Yes." That was all, just yes.

He stared at her. "You've got to be kidding." Then he saw the expression on her face. "You're not kidding."

"No, I'm not. David, you need to leave." Buffy came closer. "Please. Some bad stuff could happen tonight, and even though I'm annoyed with you I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Well, that makes two of us," David started to say. He was interrupted by a shout from Angel.

"Get down!"

Suddenly David found himself face down on the ground. Stunned, he spent several seconds spitting dirt and grass out of his mouth before turning his head to find out what had happened. A few feet away, Angel and Buffy were fighting three men in hooded robes. He watched open-mouthed as Buffy whirled and kicked and punched like some action hero in a movie, her blows landing with more force than he would have believed possible from someone of her size. Where had she learned to fight like that?

Grunts and thuds filled the air. A body went sailing at least fifteen feet backward, propelled by a kick from Angel. One of the hooded men landed a blow to Buffy's face that spun her around. She staggered smack into David, who was just getting to his knees. The collision sent him sprawling once more. Buffy sat up, shaking her head dazedly. Instead of coming after her, her assailant turned toward Angel, already pinned to the ground by the other two.

"Buffy!" yelled Angel, struggling. His voice appeared to steady her. As she scrambled to her feet, she reached inside her jacket and pulled out a sharp-pointed piece of wood about ten inches long. "David, get out of here!" she told him just as Angel shook off his attackers and rolled out of their reach. She ran toward them.

That sounded like real good advice to him. David scrambled to his feet and took off like a bat out of hell before he was even upright, seeing from the corner of his eye Buffy fighting like an enraged whirlwind. As he ran he fished his keys out of his pocket, pressing the Door Unlock button long before the car was in range of the signal.

Gasping in frustration and panic, he hit it again and this time saw the blinking of the headlights that told him it had worked. He threw himself in the driver's seat and immediately re-locked the doors. Five seconds later the engine roared into life, he threw the car in gear and peeled toward town.

He squealed to a stop in front of the bookstore, breathing a prayer of relief when he saw lights on inside. He ran to the door. Locked. He pounded on it with his fist, saw through the glass the tall shape of the store owner appear from a back room. He pounded again, calling out, "Mr. Giles, let me in!"

The door opened; he almost fell through the opening in his relief. "Mr. Larson? Buffy's not - "

"Buffy's in the cemetery!" David gasped. "Fighting three men in robes. I think she needs help."

"Where's Angel?" Giles said sharply.

"He's there, but - there's three of the other guys and only two of them."

"Not the best odds, but they've handled worse," Giles said absently as he disappeared once again into the back room. In only a moment he was back, carrying a large tote bag. "All right, Mr. Larson, I'll go see if they need any assistance. Thank you for letting me know, and goodnight to you."

David stammered, "But - I - "

"You what?" Giles looked him in the eye. "Do you really want to get more involved in this than you already are?"

"No," David instantly, and honestly, replied. "But if I run away and something happens to Buffy, I'll never forgive myself."

Giles studied him. "Have you ever handled a weapon?"

"I've done some target shooting with a handgun. I'm not great but I don't exactly suck either."

"Very well then. Take me there."

David raced back to the cemetery. As he pulled up behind Angel's car, Giles took something out of the bag. A crossbow? David gawked as Giles handed it to him.

"Use it only if you must, and for God's sake be careful who you're pointing it at. If you have to use it, aim for the heart. This is the trigger." He loaded a wooden bolt and showed David the firing mechanism. "Be. Careful. This can kill a man - or woman."

Like Buffy, for instance. David gulped and nodded. He led the way to the place where Buffy and Angel were fighting. Except they weren't anymore; in fact, they were nowhere in sight. David looked around, perplexed. "I know this is the spot. They were standing right there under those trees. Do - do you think they got captured?"

Giles stooped down and picked something off the ground - two of the robes the assailants had been wearing. "You said there were three of them?" David nodded. Giles gave the robes a shake; a shower of black dust sifted to the ground. He said thoughtfully, "I rather think that Angel and Buffy are in pursuit of their attackers, not captured by them."

Folding the robes, he looked around. "There's no telling where they might be by now. Since there's nothing we can do here, I suggest we return to town."

"But - aren't you going to at least look for them?" David was incredulous at the other man's casual dismissal of his concerns. "What makes you so sure they haven't been caught?"

Giles held out his arm, displaying the folded robes. "There's only one left. The odds are in their favor now."

"Just because two robes got pulled off doesn't mean - "

Giles cut in. "Yes, it does." He paused, seemed to choose his words carefully. "Mr. Larson, these - people - belong to a ... a mystical cult. They believe the robes grant them magical powers. Their entire identity is invested in their robes; without them, they're nothing. Trust me, the two that these robes belonged to are no threat now."

David stared at him. "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard. Are you serious?"

"Completely. Do you think I'd be so unconcerned about the safety of my friends if I weren't? Trust me, Mr. Larson; I know what I'm talking about. We don't have to worry about these two, er, priests any longer."

David narrowed his eyes. This whole explanation just sounded too fishy. "If their robes are so important to these people, why didn't they come back for them?"

Giles seemed at a loss. "Er, well ..."

"They couldn't." The voice came from behind David; he turned. It was Buffy. Her black beret was gone, her hair in disarray, and she was limping. Through the many rips in her clothing, David glimpsed bloody cuts. He gaped, robes forgotten.

Giles started forward. "You're hurt."

She held up one hand. "I'm fine, I just twisted my ankle."

David stared. Fine? Her body language screamed that this was a person in pain. Giles didn't look fooled either, but before he could argue Buffy continued. "Have you seen Angel?"

"No." Giles looked at her sharply. "What happened?"

"We got ambushed," she said in a tight voice. "There were more of them, and we got separated. We have to find him, Giles." Her voice shook.

"We will." Giles took her by the shoulder, gently. "Buffy, how many more were there?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not sure. At least six, I think. We were chasing the one that - " she glanced at David " - that still had his robe. He ran behind a big crypt on the other side of the park, and when we followed him they were waiting for us. During the fighting, we got separated. Xander and Oz showed up or I might not have gotten away. Giles, we have to go look for him."

"Xander and Oz? What - " Giles shook his head. "Never mind; I can guess."

"Buffy, we found him!" Two shadows, one tall, one short, supporting a third shadow between them, staggered lopsidedly toward them. Oz and Xander. And Angel.

"Angel!" Buffy was there in a flash, twisted ankle forgotten. Oz and Xander lugged Angel to a nearby headstone and propped him up against it. Buffy knelt beside him. "Where are you hurt?" She held up her hand; the palm glistened with a dark liquid. Blood. "Angel?" Her voice shook.

"I'm all right." Angel's voice was thin; sweat shone on his pale face.

"It's his left shoulder," Xander told her. Buffy ripped open Angel's shirt, scattering buttons everywhere, exposing a large, gaping wound above his left breast.

The blood drained from her face. "My God," she whispered. "It just missed your heart." A thick, dark ribbon of blood seeped from the injury, which appeared to be a puncture wound about the size of a nickel in diameter. David felt nauseous. What could cause such an injury?

"Don't worry, it was metal. I'll be fine." Angel sat up straighter, hissing with pain. He caught sight of the rips in Buffy's clothing; his voice grew sharp. "Are you hurt?"

Buffy dismissed his concern with a terse shake of her head. "They're just scratches. Forget me; let's worry about you. This is bad."

"He's better already," Oz said, so quietly David wasn't sure he heard correctly. "You should have seen him when we first found him."

David stared at the puncture, where the blood now barely oozed. It wasn't possible, of course, but he could almost swear it looked smaller than it had a moment ago, as though the wound had started to close. He rubbed his hand over his face.

Giles moved in front of him, cutting off his view of Angel. He took the crossbow and said, "David, I want you and Xander to get Angel's car, please. Angel, we need the keys." Then he hesitated and returned the crossbow to David, saying, "Just in case."

With some difficulty, Angel pulled a key ring out of his right-hand pocket. "Here."

Buffy tossed them to Giles, who handed them to Xander. "Let's go," Xander said to David. They hurried back to the cars in silence, broken only when they reached Angel's convertible.

"Xander, who is he?" David asked bluntly, getting in the passenger's side. Carefully he set the crossbow on his lap, making sure the bolt was pointed away from them.

Xander didn't look at him as he slid into the driver's seat. "Angel's a friend." His tone didn't encourage discussion of the matter, but David stubbornly persisted. "Is he with the military?"

Xander inserted the key in the ignition. "No." The motor roared to life.

"What, then? CIA?" The car lurched into gear.

"He's one of the good guys. Isn't that enough?" Xander turned the car into the cemetery entrance and began driving down the road. A minute later he pulled up in front of the group, got out, opened the back door, and bowed with a flourish. "Your limousine, sah!" His attempted British accent was execrable. Giles gave him a patient, long-suffering look.

Angel got to his feet with less assistance from Giles and Buffy than David expected. Although obviously still in pain, grimacing with each step, he appeared slightly stronger. They helped him into the back seat, where he refused to lie down, insisting on sitting upright, more or less. Buffy slid in next to him and he leaned against her.

Giles took charge. "Xander, I think you should drive them to the mansion. The rest of us will walk to David's car, then he can drop Oz off at his van."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Oz's voice was so strange everyone looked up.

"Uh-oh. There's trouble in River City," Xander muttered. Hastily he got back behind the wheel. A group of at least six people was headed their way at a fast trot, every one of them dressed in long, hooded robes.

Oz scrambled in next to David as Giles dove into the back. "Go!" he barked at Xander, who didn't need the command. The convertible was already burning rubber as it shot away, leaving their pursuers behind. They rounded a curve at a speed that made David gasp involuntarily. The car skidded sideways for a second, until the squealing tires bit once more into the road's surface.

"Ohhh, shit," Xander proclaimed as a second, much larger, gathering of robes came into sight, blocking the road about fifty yards away. David tightened his grip on the crossbow.

 

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