DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, etc.
FEEDBACK: Don't make me beg... or steal Angel...
SUMMARY: I wrote a fic ages ago called 'I Need Her' written from Angels POV about comming back to Sunnydale to get Buffy back. This is basically a sort of carry on from there, but you don't need to have read the first one to understand this.
NOTES: Oh, and i realise the time between which Buffy talks to Willow on the phone, and when Willow arrives at the dorm is very short, but it's a fanfic. I've changed time *grin*.

Walking through the underground layer in which we were trying to find a way out of with Buffy’s hand entwined with mine was possibly the most surreal experience I’ve ever experienced. For all I cared we could have been walking through a swamp; I was just thrilled to be able to touch her in such an intimate way, and for me holding her hand was a very, very intimate gesture after so many years of physically forcing myself not to touch her, call her or kiss her.

Of course I never expected escaping to be simple, and as always, it wasn’t. We came across several groups of ‘demon wanna-be’s’ as Buffy so quirkily put it, but this time they weren’t armed, and we weren’t separated. The fight, if you could call it that, was swift and quick, and it was wonderful to watch her in action. She’s grown stronger; that much was plain to see from the first roundhouse kick she delivered. But she’s not just gotten stronger… she’s developed a skill that only time and experience as a hunter can give you; she’s learnt to understand her own strength. She knows exactly how hard she needs to punch and kick, and I can’t help but feel proud and maybe even awed by her. I not only pity anyone who falls in love with her, I pity anyone misfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of those punches. Trust me, they hurt like Hell.

And before I know it, we’re emerging into the woods, the harsh night air hitting me as a refreshing greeting and the moon hanging low in the sky as a warning of the soon to come sunrise. To me the moon feels like the sun and Buffy’s love baths me in a warmth so wonderful I don’t think there’s a more precious sensation in the world. I feel like I’m stood in the sun’s warmth, and I’m almost tempted to tell her that I’m able to do that now. But judging from the way her body is shivering from the cold, I don’t really think now is the appropriate time. Instead I slip my jacket off and hand it to her, which earns me a grateful smile and soft kiss. Hell, I’ll give her all my coats if she’ll smile like that just once more.

We make our way to Buffy’s dorm with Buffy in the lead, her small hand wrapped in my larger one. I’m fairly familiar with this area of Sunnydale, but not to the extent that she is, and to be honest I don’t trust myself to manage to make my way anywhere. I swear I’m still dazed. I’m like a lovesick puppy. I can just imagine Spike laughing at me, and ten years ago *I* would have laughed at me. But love changes everything; I’m not kidding.

I realise Buffy’s increasing her pace, and her face bears an anxious expression that worries me. I slow to a stop and place a hand on her shoulder. “Buffy, what’s wrong?”

She turns towards me before glancing up at the sky, which is growing ever lighter as we speak. “The sun’s almost up. We gotta get you inside.”

I want to tell her not to worry, I want to tell her we don’t need to rush, but I can’t. Not here, like this. I want to tell her when she’s relaxed, and warm and comfortable. I want to tell her when I’ll have a chance to really see her reaction, and I want to be there when her eyes light up. So instead I simply nod and resume my walking, quickening my pace to match hers. I don’t know why, but I always feel so in-synch with her, maybe because of all those nights of patrolling together so long ago, or maybe because we’re both warriors, I don’t know. It just throws me sometimes, but in a good way I can’t describe. It’s almost bordering upon exhilarating.

We eventually arrive at her dorm, and she lets us both in, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them. I want to take them in mine and warm them, but alas, my hands are colder then hers.

“Maybe you should go get changed or throw on a jumper.“ I suggest when it occurs to me that her clothing is pretty much minimal: a short, pale blue skirt and white halter top.

I wonder briefly just where she finds the time to do so much shopping, especially since I once remember her claiming that Sunnydale’s mall was close to being dead and non-existent, more suitable for vampires then living humans- her words.

But that thought is swiftly being replaced with a simple ‘Dear God’ as I watch her slip that top of her’s off as she saunters towards her closet, in search on what I guess to be a warmer top. She’s wearing a skimpy red bra, and from the brief glance I get of it, I’m also guessing that the material is silk. My groin is right there behind me and my lusty thoughts, hardening in silent agreement.

She shoots me a devilish grin before slipping a warm baggy jumper on, effectively blocking my view.

“I suggested you slipped a jumper on, not kill me.“ I groaned out, and to be honest I’m not even sure if I’ve said that out loud or in my head.

Her giggle gives me the answer.

“You’re evil.“ I scold. Well, I try to, but I’m pretty sure I suck at it- no pun intended.

Her expression quickly changes to one of false innocence, those adorable eyes of hers widening. “Moi?”

I don’t have a chance to respond-, which is probably for the best considering I really don’t seem to have much control over my tongue at the moment- because her phone is interrupting us, ringing shrilling and almost impatiently. ///Can a phone actually ring impatiently? Am I actually asking myself this? Have I finally gone insane? Maybe I need to go see Giles…///

My thoughts stray from wondering whether I’m going insane to admiring just how beautiful she looks, the phone cradled on her shoulder, freeing both her hands to doodle on a stray piece of paper lying next to the phone. I can’t help but wonder if she used to do that when I called her? A warm feeling washes through me at the realisation that I don’t need to be the one calling her, or debating whether or not to pick up the phone anymore, because I’m here now. For always, I hope. I sidle up towards her and press my front against her back, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist. It gives me a dizzy rush to feel so much of my body in contact with hers, and I know she feels the same because she lets out a little gasp.

I can hear Willow ask her what’s wrong down the phone. ///So that’s who she’s talking…/// I smile slightly and press my lips against her warm, sanity neck, earning a shudder from Buffy. Thinking of the smoothness of her skin suddenly brings back the image of her in that silk bra of hers. The one she oh so teasingly stripped down to earlier.

I decide that some pay back is in order. And I also realise that Buffy has yet to answer Willow’s question. ///This should be fun///

“Buffy, are you okay?” I heard Willow ask again.

“I’m fine.”

She’s trying to calm herself, I note with satisfaction, but if her racing heartbeat’s any indication then she’s not succeeding. “I just… thought I saw something.”

I raise an eyebrow at her excuse, although I know she can’t see it.

“Really Buffy, I’m disappointed. I would of thought you could have come up with something more original.” I’m teasing her, but I make sure I only speak loudly enough for Buffy to hear. I’m quite happy to tease, but not about something as serious as letting everyone know I’m back. That needs to be done together and at the right time.

She slaps me gently across the shoulder before turning her attention back to the phone: “Will, listen, can I call you back later?”

“Ooh, did I call at the bad time?” The coyness in her voice surprises me; this is not the Willow I remember. “Say hi to Riley for me.”

I freeze at that and a feeling of coldness washing through me. Being alone with Buffy in her dorm, my arms wrapped around her, her head leaning back against my chest, is almost like a dream. In fact this entire past day just seems like on incredibly surreal dream. The most incredible dream I’ve ever known, but a dream none-the-less, and the mention of Riley brings it crashing head on into reality. A reality I never want to have to face.

I feel Buffy tense slightly against me and her arms are immediately covering mine, pulling me tighter to her, reassuring me. “No Will, Riley’s not here. Listen, I really got to go.”

“Have I said something wrong?”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll talk to ya when you get back, okay?”

I only half listen as Buffy and Willow end their conversation, because I’m beginning to see the problems we’re going to have to face soon, especially concerning the small factor of telling everyone about us.

“Angel…” She tuns to face me with a worried expression, and those eyes of her’s look into mine nervously. It’s almost as if she’s bracing herself for me to say something to ruin everything.

I’m afraid- I’m not ashamed to admit that- but at the same time I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life. I’m in Buffy’s arms, and that ache of separation is gone, replaced with a warm feeling of utter contentment and I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. Does she honestly think I would give all that up? I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.

“Buffy…” I smile slightly, my words imitating her’s in playful mockery.

She breaks into a grin and I can almost see relief wash through her. “You had me worried,” She confesses.

“Worried?” I know what’s coming, but I also know that we need to talk about it; get it sorted out. I don’t want her to have a single uncertainty about the way I feel for her.

“Yeah. I thought maybe… maybe you’d decide to leave again.” She takes a deep breath and holds it, as if challenging me to contradict her.

“Never going to happen.” I tell her firmly, and I mean it. “I don’t think I could survive without you.” I’m aware just how tripe that sounds as soon as the words have left my mouth, but the smile that lights up her face in response tells me she understands. “I mean… you know what I mean…”

She places a finger to my lips, putting me out of my misery and nodding. “Uh huh. Angel?”

“Hmmm?”

“Okay, so… if you’re not leaving, where does that leave *us*?”

I frown slightly. “I don’t know,” I reply slowly.

“The plains of relationships have changed somewhat since I grew up.”

I smile at the laughter present in her eyes and shake my head. “You’re gonna have to bring me up to date,“ I add unnecessarily.

“That could definitely be fun. “

She moves towards me like a cat cornering her prey before pouncing; slipping her arms around my waste and raising on tip-toe to level her gaze with mine. Her body moulds against mine perfectly, like two halves of artwork completing a Master piece, and the smouldering look she gives me would be enough to stop any creature in their tracks.

“So, where should we start, teacher? “ I murmur huskily, suddenly very conscious that we’re completely alone and only two feet from her bed.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps…“

I tense upon hearing something that sounds suspiciously like the clicking of a shutting door and we simultaneously turn around to find Willow pulling the door shut with her back to us, completely unaware of my presence.

I swear I’m seriously beginning to develop a phobia towards that door. If it isn’t commando boyfriends, it’s friends who I suspect seriously hate me. Either hate me or still fear me, and from the surprised look on Willow’s face as she turns around, I’m guessing she really isn’t too happy to see me.

“Buffy…what…“ she stammers out before turning to stare at me as if I were a ghost. “Angel… hi… it’s… it’s good to see you…“ and then I have to stop myself from laughing when she turns to Buffy and says nervously, “I mean… it is good… right? But not… too good, I hope… Ooh, did I just say that out loud?“ I may have managed to keep a straight face, but Buffy is somewhat less successful. “Yes Will’s, it’s good.“

I offer Willow a shrug and a smile as Buffy tries desperately to calm down before turning back to her friend. “It’s a really, really long story.“

“Is this a story I’m gonna wanna hear?“ Willow asks, suddenly anxious, and my eyes widen when it suddenly occurs to me just what had been going through her mind.

Buffy sobers instantly at Willow’s implications, and I can see a brief flash of hurt crossing her features. Oh god, I want to tell her. I want to tell her that she doesn’t need to have that weight hanging over her; I want to tell her that we can make love now. I want to tell her everything, but I really can’t do it with Willow here.

“You don’t need to worry, Will,“ Buffy assures her, and Willow instantly reddens.

“I didn’t mean to… Okay, I’m just gonna go find a floor to swallow me up.“

“You really don’t want to say that,’ I reply darkly, more to myself then Willow. ‘This is Sunnydale. Chances are you’ll actually find one.“ I stop when I see the odd looks Buffy and Willow are giving me and give an embarrassed shrug. “Just a thought…“

“Angel? Will and I are just gonna go have a little chat, okay?“

I nod; feeling relieved that Buffy’s the one who’s going to explain it all to her friend. I’m quite happy to be there with her when she tells Giles and everyone that we’re together, in fact, I actually *want* to be there, but I understand that her telling Willow is somewhat different. They’re best friends, and if I’ve learnt anything though out my life, it’s that women like to talk.

So I give her a quick kiss goodbye, still trying not to laugh at Willow’s wide-eyed expression and flop down onto her bed. I once again stare the closed door Buffy’s just exited through, but this time I don’t feel dead. I feel alive. And it feels wonderful. I’m brought out of my thoughts and daydreams of Buffy by the sound of a timid knock. Oh god, no, not that door again. If it’s Xander… I swear I *will* develop a phobia.

“Come in.“

I’m somewhat taken aback when a young woman walks in, about Buffy’s age, I think, but her face is foreign to me. She seems just as surprised to see me as I am to see her, and she offers a stuttered apology. “Oh…sorry… I… I was looking for Willow… I thought she was…here.“

“Oh.“ I quickly recover from my surprise. ‘She’ll be back soon, I think. If you wait she’ll probably be back in a minute,’ I offer, feeling foolish. I really need to work on my people skills.

“Hi… I’m Tara.“ The girl blushes slightly.

Well, at least I now know her name. She looks down at her feet and I take the opportunity to study her more closely. She has blonde hair; not as blonde as Buffy’s, but rather a shade of light brown which has been tinted blonde by the sun. I suddenly realise who she reminds me off – Willow during her years at High School, before she gained more confidence. The way she’s slouched slightly, as if hoping not to be noticed, is something I recognise all too well; I’ve seen it is so many women. They have beauty; they just can’t see it in themselves.

“So, how do you know Willow?“ I ask her lightly, deciding that if she won’t make conversation then I will.

“Oh!“ Tara looked somewhat startled by the question. “She and I… we’re… together.“

My eyes widen slightly, not out of disgust, just surprise. “That’s nice.“ I say.

God, am I campaigning for idiot of the year? But she seems relieved with my response none the less, and I decide I like this girl.

“So… how do you know Buffy?“ She asks quietly, imitating my question.

I pause for a moment, not sure what to say. I want to tell her Buffy and I are together so badly, in fact I want to tell the whole world, but part of me feels like I don’t have that right. These are *Buffy’s* friends, and then there’s the fact that Tara was probably friends with Riley…The more I think about it, the more nervous I begin to feel. Just what trouble have I caused?

“It’s okay.” Tara says quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no,” I say quickly. ‘It’s just-“

“Complicated?” She offers. “Most things often are.”

I stare at her for a moment before nodding. “Few things are simple,” I agree, not really having anything else to say. Have I lost my entire vocabulary? Or is old age finally catching up and I’m going insane?

Before I have a chance to actually worry about insanity, that door is opening once again, and I grin when I realise its Buffy. I notice with amusement that Willow looks almost as bewildered now as she did when she’d walked in the first time, but she doesn’t look like she wants to kill me, which I guess is a good sign.

“Did you two get things cleared up?” I question cautiously.

Buffy nods happily and takes my larger hand in her smaller one. “So, do ya think a trip to Giles is in order?”

I nod my agreement absentmindedly, my attention focused on our hands laced together snugly, our fingers entwined, mine long, hers delicate and petite. Totally contrasting, but totally right. Just like it used to be.

I wonder fleetingly if she’s remembering as well, the way our hands would find their way together during patrol, at the Bronze… -anywhere, really-, tentatively during the early stages of our relationship, the then more boldly. I needed that contact, that little reassuring novelty. Especially after… things went wrong for us.

I realise then that I have to tell her. Now. Before we make that trip to Giles.

“Buffy.” I fight to keep the nervousness from my voice. My insides are churning, and I feel like I did the first time I asked her out on a date- for ‘coffee’. How many times have I looked back at that with a smile on my face? Laughing at myself and laughing at our uncertainties of the each other’s feelings.

Her expression immediately changes, a soft crease appearing above her brow in concern. “What’s wrong?” Her tone’s gentle, coaxing, encouraging, loving.

Exactly the way I’ve dreamt about it being for so long that for a split-second I completely forget what I’ve got to tell her.

“Can we go for a walk?” I ask quietly.

She glances at Willow and Tara, as if following my trail of thought about our need for privacy and nods. “Sure.”

She moves towards the door but almost as a second nature I tug her back, refusing to release her hand.

“Your coat.” I prompt.

She rolls her eyes and grins at me mischievously. A grin I know is meant for my eyes only.

“I slipped into something warmer earlier at your request, Sir. And if I get cold you can always play the gentleman and lend me your jacket.”

I throw our audience- namely Willow and Tara- a look of mock exasperation, as if to say ‘you see what I have to put up with?’ and grin when a fist connects with my shoulder in a playful punch. My arm snakes out to capture her wrist in my hand, my fingers able to slip all the way around it, before bringing it up to my lips for a kiss.

I hear Willow sigh softly and murmur something to Tara, but Buffy’s eyes hold mine captive, dark pools of longing and hunger.

“We can go-“ Willow begins, but I quickly intercept with a shake of my head.

“No, no. We’re going,” I say decisively, more for my own benefit then Buffy’s, and with that I tug my love out of the door, her hand in my left one, and my coat and hers in my right.

The air’s warm with the promise of sun and a final farewell to the remnants of night. My love shivers beside me as a gust of wind greets us, the day’s not quite here yet, and I slip her coat around her shoulders. She smiles up at me sweetly, before saying warily, “Is this going to be one of those ‘I told you so’s’?”

I chuckle. “No ‘I told you so’s’” I promise with a husky whisper before gently drawing her against me, my arms circling around her instinctively. “Warmer?” She nods before frowning suddenly. “Angel… you’re warming me. You’re warm.”

I swallow hard and nod. “That’s what I needed to tell you.” I can barely get the words out.

Her frown of confusion grows. “That you’re warm?” “The Power’s That Be… I made amends, Buffy.”

Hearing myself say it out loud, to the one person that matters suddenly makes it real to me. Up until now… it had been like a gift. Unopened and untouched, because I wanted to give it to her, not myself. I wanted to watch *her* unwrap the joys for the first time. I wanted to see the sunset and the sunrise with *her*, feel her reaction, as well as my own.

She chocks slightly, “Made amends?” She steps back from me a little, staring at me as if I’m a cruel mirage, an illusion.

I place my hand over my heart, and still my breath catches at the feel of it’s beating. “I’m not completely human,” I hear myself continue from a distance. Right now I’m drowning in the look in her eyes. “I still have my strength, my night vision, my reflexes. I still have to fight, Buffy. For me. But I’m yours, if you-“

I don’t get to finish my sentence, because before I can blink Buffy’s hurling herself against me, her warm little body flush against mine, her lips frantic over my face; my checks, my jaw, my nose. Laughing gently I put a little distance between us, wanting- needing- to see her face. My heart clenches at the sight of her tears, trickling gently in two twin paths down her cheeks.

“I love you.” She manages to choke out trough her tears, and immediately I’m pulling her back to me, crushing her against the wall of my chest, feeling tears of my own sting my eyes when she burrows closer still, almost impossibly close.

We hold each other like that for uncountable moments. Minutes? Hours? For me it feels like an eternity lasting only a few milli-seconds. Not nearly long enough- but engraved inside me forever.

Reluctantly I release her, using the pads of my thumb to wipe away her tears, and I smile softly when she returns the favour.

“Are we through crying?” She demands croakily, and I laugh.

Her hand pauses against my left cheek, lightly tracing whatever curves she finds there. I *still* haven’t looked in the mirror.

“This is only the second time I’ve seen you cry,” she tells me almost wondrously, reminding me of a little girl discovering a butterfly or some other exotic creature for the first time.

“You want a soppy guy?” I tease gently, and she grins back at me before moving her hand slowly from my check down to my heart, hovering there uncertainly, and I can see the fear in her eyes. The fear that she might still be dreaming. Or she might not feel a heart beat there after all.

Gently I cover her hand with mine, and press it against me. Her eyes widen with wonder, and for a moment I’m not sure if her tears are going to make a re-appearance, until she smiles crookedly and blinks furiously, forcing them back.

My sweet love, always trying to be so strong. Glancing up at the sky above, my 200-year old instincts kick in, telling me we have just minutes left until daybreak.

“Come on,” I murmur urgently, “we’ve got to get to Giles’ before the sun rises.”

I watch with tender amusement as she blinks and that adorable, puzzled expression crosses her features. “Why-“

“I want to meet the sunrise with a new beginning,” I tell her softly. “I want everything to be dealt with, including Giles, before we start the new day. Our day.”

A delighted smile replaces her confusion. “I like that!” She exclaims excitedly. “Our day.”

Together we hurry towards Giles, beating the sunrise by about a minute, if that. But when we emerge to greet the sun, it’ll be with the past behinds us.

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