DISCLAIMER: Everyone inside belongs to someone who is not me. Line is from one of 'Shy''s songs in 'Wild At Heart'; my brand spanking new Watcher's Guide 2 reveals it to be 'Dip' by 'THC' (The Hard Core).
TIMELINE: After 'Family' and 'Guise Will Be Guise'.
SPOILERS: 'Amends', 'Doppelgangerland', 'The Prodigal', vague 'The Yoko Factor', 'Family' and 'Guise Will Be Guise'.
SYNOPSIS: Buffy and Angel meet, but in a dreamworld.
DISTRIBUTION: If you have the others, take; if you want any, ask. I haven't said no yet.
FEEDBACK: Please, please, please! I have exams. I need comfort.
RATING: PG

I think maybe the Powers That Be aren't the most imaginative of all-powerful beings; tonight's mystery location was a repeat, the Old Reliable roof outside my window in my mother's house. Guaranteed not to cause slippages to whatever Slayers sneaking out or vampires sneaking in might chance to use it.

He wasn't there by the time I was, but I knew he would come. I could feel it. Or maybe it was just him I could feel.

Anyway, I waited, trying to work the appearing stars trick he tried to teach me last time we were here. I didn't hear him come in, so I wasn't surprised when his big body appeared at the window. He saw me, and returned my fleeting welcome grin, then came swiftly through the window to drop gracefully at my side.

'You've moved back home,' Angel said.

'Hello to you too,' I teased. He offered me another quick flash of dazzling white teeth, leaning back, propped up on his forearms. I followed his lead, reclining next to him.

'Got a new duty,' I reminded him, answering his comment, 'Dawn's here. And my mom is here, and she -' I stumbled and stopped. I really don't want to think about that, and telling Angel, who isn't here witnessing it, makes whatever's wrong with her real, somehow. And I'm pretty sure there is something wrong with her; something I can't do anything about.

'Hey ...' he said softly, turning to face me, and I just looked at him for a few moments, letting myself absorb the strength and love in his gaze. He always looks his best at night; no surprise, really, given what he is, it's his natural habitat, but there was a time when it wasn't, and yet it must have still suited him. His hair and eyes look darker against the marble-perfect paleness of his skin, and then sometimes the moon throws his face into stark relief, and he looks like the angel of his namesake.

Not that I have anything to compare with Angel at night. Not even Angel in strong artificial light, really. He tends to avoid bright places.

'You've never told me anything about when your family. When you were human,' I said suddenly. Or is it that I've never asked?

He looked down and then up again, at the view of Revello Drive. 'I killed them,' he said matter-of-factly. 'What else is there?' His eyes were bleak, but his voice was toneless. With a sudden, elegant movememnt, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, pulling his legs up and resting his arms on them. A very 'guy' way to sit. I don't think I've seen him do it before, but he does it well.

I stayed where I was, studying his broad back. I was hungry, for reasons I don't know and in a way I can't describe, to know about his past; about him pre-vamp. When he was human, like me. Like the way I'm starting to suspect I'm not.

'You tell me what else there is,' I said, careful to keep my voice neutral.

He was silent, and for a minute I thought he would ignore me. Then he spoke in an even, controlled voice.

'I had a sister. Younger sister. When I first came back, after,' he paused, and I wondered if he'd go on. He did, 'After they'd buried me, she thought I was an angel come back to them. Her angel.'

He lapsed into silence and a new thought came to me, that I'd never really considered before.

'What's your birth name?' I would have said real name, but ... Angel is his real name, at least to me, and probably to him by now. It goes with him - the fallen angel, the avenging angel. With, naturally, the angelic face.

'Liam,' he said, still staring into the blackness. Liam. It's a nice name. But, like I said, he's Angel.

'Actually,' he said, twisting to look at me, and I didn't see the pain I expected to, 'Is Buffy your real name? As in, on your birth certificate?'

'Yes,' I said dangerously. 'Why?'

He went back to looking out, 'I just wondered.'

'There's nothing wrong with my name,' I insisted sharply.

'You've made it yours,' he said sincerely, but I know him well enough to pick up on the laugh in his voice.

'I recommend you stop now,' I warned dryly.

He leaned back again and I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, sensing he'd said all he was going to on the past issue. Maybe another time.

Then I remembered what he'd told me last time we'd met in the dreamspace.

'What's happening with the Darla thing?' I said cautiously, hoping unrealistically for something like 'she's left town for good'.

He visibly stiffened, then heaved a sigh. 'Not much. I'm still trying ... I tried to get to her a couple of days ago.'

'And?' I prompted gently.

'Didn't work,' he said shortly.

I left it, a little stung.

'You think I'm wrong, trying to save her, don't you?' he said a moment later.

'It's not my judgement to make,' I said, remembering Faith. 'I think I understand why you're trying.'

'Cordy and Wes think I'm going crazy,' he said quietly. Our eyes met, and his were soft and deep, almost vulnerable. He's got the strength of his convictions, my Angel, always has, but he doesn't let people in easily and if those he trusts second-guess him, it's more likely to make him doubt himself. I know, I've done it.

'Do you think you're going crazy?' I said, thinking that the psych class came in useful after all.

'No,' he said flatly, 'But I wouldn't count it out as an option.'

That was weird. Angel's not much of a pessimist, which I know clashes with his black-clad brood boy persona, but this kind of despondent cynicism is a new direction for him. As far as I've seen, anyway, and I realise lately that's not far. But I do know him, I think always will, no matter what I may have told him, and this isn't like him.

It was like he heard my thoughts. He said, 'I didn't mean that the way it came out. I'm,' he gestured uselessly, 'I mean, I'm okay. I just ...' he couldn't find the words and fell into a frustrated silence.

'Maybe you should consider psychiatric help,' I said flippantly.

He laughed, 'Funny you should say that.'

'You're seeing a psychiatrist?' I asked curiously, wondering if he'd found a vampire psychiatrist.

'No, no,' he said, apparently enjoying the look on my face. Though thinking about it, I don't know why it was there. He's got a schizophrenia the greats never dreamed of that won't respond to drugs, he lives with the guilt of a thousand kills, he's had to adjust through several time periods, he spent untold eons in hell, and it's all led to suicidal feelings at least once in the last two years. Sure, he's strong, but even the strongest are breakable.

'Close thing, though,' he was going on, 'A swami. Good for metaphysical stuff. Well, actually I saw a fake swami, so his qualifications are doubtful,' his expression turned thoughtful, 'But he made some good points.' His gaze fell on me and he ran his eyes down my body. I squirmed as if it was a physical caress.

'Oh,' I said, slightly bewildered, 'Care to share?'

'Maybe when I've processed,' he promised, 'So, how are you?'

'Oh, fine,' I said idly. 'We rescued Willow's girlfriend from her crazed family. Seems like she has about as good a time with birthdays as I do. Or maybe it was just this one.'

'Hang on,' Angel interrupted, 'Willow's girlfriend?'

'What? Oh, yeah. She's a lesbian,' I informed him. Strange to think it's something he doesn't know.

'Well, I had some suspicions,' he said.

Or maybe he does.

'What? Why?' I said inelegantly.

'Remember her vampire double, couple of years back?' I nodded assent. 'Vampires really aren't too different from the person they were,' he said.

'You are,' I said.

He looked at me, 'How do you know?'

That caught me, 'Well, I ... I,' I stammered, 'Yor soul is a hell of a lot different from the demon, Angel. And ... and your soul is the original, right?'

He was still looking at me probingly, 'Yeah, it is. But the demon ...' he looked away, but I grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at me.

'The demon in me didn't teach the kind of darkness I had. Have,' he said simply, looking me straight in the eye, his own gaze clear and honest. 'It just refined it. Let it out. I'm capable of just the same now as Angelus ever was at his worst.'

I let go of him and he looked away.

'It's not the demon in me that needs killing.' I echoed his words from - God, nearly two years ago.

'It's the man,' he finished, 'Yeah, Buffy.'

It felt like something was pulling me in two. There was a voice, a voice I heard in my dreams a few months back, telling me so he was only a vampire after all; a demon, when all's said and done. Evil.

Needing to die at my hand clutching my stake.

And then there was another voice, my usual head voice. Saying, quite simply, no.

'You know,' I said slowly, and I felt the tension rise in his body, 'In one of these dreams, you told me the source of my power didn't matter as long as I was using it for good.'

He exhaled deeply, 'Buffy ...'

'Why doesn't it count for you?' I said, swinging around to him.

I could see him groping past the space where other people's self-esteem lives to find an actual explanation. 'Because I *was* evil,' he said finally.

'And now you're fighting the evil not only in yourself but outside as well?' I demanded. 'You're like, a bad guy who does good things. Still puts you in the hero category in my book.'

'A vampire in the Slayer's good books?' he said with a bitter laugh. 'What's wrong with this picture?'

I was about to answer when he turned full-on to me, in full vamp face. Golden eyes glared at me; sharp fangs glinted.

I grabbed him and kissed him hard.

I felt him pulling back and held on tight, pulling him up to me; after a moment he relaxed into it and kissed me back, wrapping an arm close around my back. I felt his features start to become regular under my fingertips and purposely ran my tongue over one fang, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

He tasted it, and then he did pull away, fiercely, reverting to his human face and staring at me in shock.

'The only thing wrong with the picture is you're not in it,' I said quietly.

He didn't reply, only got up and backed away slowly, eyes locked to mine. I crawled to the edge of the roof and watched him climb smoothly down, jumping the last couple of metres. He jogged to the sidewalk, hesitated, turned back.

And sent me one final, gorgeous smile before he moved swiftly away that left me really reluctant to leave its ghost in the dream behind.

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