Disclaimer: We don't own the Buffy characters (though our Riley is not the Riley on the show) and we don't really own the Arthur characters either, though I don't think anyone actually does.but they're certainly not ours! Anyway, Nimue is part of the original Arthurian legend, but we've put our own spin on her, and on all the characters, and the legend itself for that matter.
Author's Notes: First of all our Riley is NOT the Riley in the show! At all! We started this story before the fourth season started, so he's based on rumors we'd heard. We then worked the Initiative in later on. Kate is based entirely on speculation too. This is the first part of the "What Remains" Trilogy
Timeline: 5th season Buffy.we started before 4th season, so while some things are there (the Intiative, Riley) they're different in our world.the Initiative isn't evil, no evil professors, none of the other things that happened in the 4th season, and Oz never left!
Spoilers: A little 4th season Buffy and Angel.
Do NOT be angry! We are both *extreme* B/A shippers and it will all work out in the end! We promise!
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Prologue

You would not believe me if I told you how long I have waited. How long I have searched. Even I do not believe it at times. I never dreamed of my life, never even imagined it when I was young, and human. Well, I am still human, I have not been Changed, I have not grown beyond what I was born as. But I am not mortal either, nor have I lived, not for a very long time. I have only waited.

And now I have found them.

I did not believe, at first, that it was truly them, or my luck in finding them all together. I have searched for so long, I have seen so many come and go, so many wars, so much death, and so much life as well. I have watched a thousand lovers whisper softly in the darkness, I have heard the laughs of thousands of children and the cries of thousands more. But now I have found them.

I have found him, after so long. I pray that he will forgive me. I pray that he will know why I did it. Why I had to. Only with him imprisoned could they fall, as they must. It was the saddest story the world ever knew, but there were no choices in it. I did what I had to. And now it doesn't matter. Now I have found them again.

I make no sense, I know. After living alone for half again a thousand years, you would not either. I suppose I have not lived alone exactly but.But I have lived without my soul, and that is the same thing. I ramble now, and I have not the time for that. Because though I have found them, all is not well here. I have not waited all this time to find the poor queen with the wrong man. She could not have happiness in my time, I will not let her knight take it away from her now, and from himself. I long to find my soul, to tell him how much I love him, how I have yearned for him all these years. But first, I must put things right.

I know of only one way to do so. I only hope it will not make him hate me again.

Thank the Lady, I have found them.

Part One

Buffy's fist rammed into the side of the vampire's head and she staked it before it could recover from the shock. She stepped back from the cloud of dust and glanced around the park. "Will?" she asked, frowning at the absence of her best friend. "Willow?" Nothing. Buffy's brows drew together as she peeked around the side of a tree.

"That's so sad!" a voice exclaimed. Buffy sighed and shook her head, tucking her stake away as she followed Willow's voice to find her sitting on a park bench, absorbed in her book.

"What's so sad?" Buffy asked curiously, climbing easily over the bench and perching on the back, so she could look down on Willow's book.

"Nimue had to imprison Merlin even though she loved him, becau-" Willow stopped suddenly, glancing up and smiling. Buffy was watching her with arched eyebrows.

"You should be more careful young lady," the Slayer scolded. "I could be vicious creature of the night." Willow dimpled.

"Or Gibson," she replied mischieviously. Buffy laughed, thinking of the fellow college sophomore who had been obsessed with Willow since the beginning of their freshman year. Anytime Willow said a word to him, he thought she felt the same way, and used it to "prove" to anyone who would listen that Willow was really in love with him. Oz was, well, not surprisingly okay with the whole thing-it wasn't surprising because he was okay with pretty much everything. Willow, however, got rather annoyed.

"Who's Nimuey, anyway?" Buffy inquired, stealing the book and examining it.

"Nimue," Willow corrected. "And she was Merlin's lover."

"Merlin?" Buffy asked, then grinned. "Oh yeah, the guy with beard! And that owl! And he went to Bermuda!" Willow sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Uh.yeah. Kind of. Just keep telling yourself that," she laughed.

"So.anyway, I thought you were patrolling with me. What's with the dissapearing act?" Buffy asked, hopping off the bench and handing the book back to Willow.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I love this book! So, are we done?" Willow asked, standing up too.

"Well, I'm done. You can stay here and read if you want to." Buffy teased. Willow wrinkled her nose.

"Very funny."

"Well, no, it wasn't, but if you think so I won't argue."

"Just come on!" Willow exclaimed, laughing and grabbing Buffy's jacket to pull her along. Buffy exclaimed and jerked the jacket away, inspecting it carfully to make sure Willow hadn't injured it.

A few blocks from their apartment, Buffy stopped. "Can you make it home okay?" she asked. Willow rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm going to fall and I just won't be able to get up," she replied, "Now go. Go! I release you." Buffy grinned and said good night before walking off in the opposite direction.

The night was cold and she shivered slightly, pulling her jacket shut. She glanced up as she walked, at the star strewn sky. A tiny sigh escaped her as she thought of other starry skies, other night walks. With him.

When was the last time she talked to Angel? Was it three weeks? Four? Or more than that? They used to talk every couple weeks, just to check in, see what was going on, swap demon stories. It had been painful sometimes, to talk to him, and know that no matter what he said, he didn't want to be with her. Sometimes she could hardly speak to him at all. Just a few words and she would feel her heart die all over again. Other times she liked it, and could talk to him for hours, like there was nothing between them. Like they were friends.

And then she met Riley.

Buffy neared enough to see the light in his window. She smiled as he walked past and took a moment to pause and smile and look forward to seeing him. Then she kept walking, looking down again, at the sidewalk in front of her. She still missed Angel, and she still loved him. Which was why she couldn't talk to him very much. Every time she did it reminded her of what it felt like to be with Angel. To love Angel. And every time it was harder to go back to Riley, to smile, to be happy with the warm glow she felt when she was with him.

Buffy crossed the street quickly and ran up the stairs of Riley's apartment building. She pushed the button beside his name: Riley Finn. She'd laughed when she first heard it. What an odd name. Like Buffy Summers was normal.

"Buffy?" his voice asked after a second.

"Were you expecting someone else?" she asked mischieviously. She heard his easy laugh and could almost see his grin before the buzzer rang and she pushed the door open. They always laughed about the security measures. In a place like Sunnydale, who needed a buzzer system?

It kept vampires out though, for which Buffy was supremely glad. If something happened to Riley.

He met her at the door of his apartment, smiling softly, his golden hair rumpled. She smiled the moment she saw him and ran up the rest of the stairs, kissing him softly before pushing him gently back into his apartment. He drew her after him and she kicked the door closed behind her,

"Hi there," she whispered, twining her arms behind his head. Riley's blue eyes glowed as he circled her waist with his arms.

"Hey." Buffy rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, letting herself relax into the comfort of humanity, into the genuine warmth of being held by a man that loved her, that really truly loved her.

Maybe he wasn't Angel. Maybe he didn't make her heart race or the lights dim. But he was a good guy, smart and kind, and he made her smile, and he was the kind of person that one could make a life with. But most of all, he wanted to be with her.

For Buffy, that had to be enough.

"I miss you, you're always so busy," Buffy murmured, pulling away a little. Riley smiled apologetically.

"Just a few more months," he promised.

"I know, but seniors are supposed to have time! You just had to take two majors, didn't you?"

"Well.yes?" Buffy laughed and kissed him. She realized the radio was on, and a slow song came on. They began to dance, slowly, smiling, and Buffy let the world slip away.

Outside, beneath the starry sky, a figure cloaked in night watched, sorrow reflected in her eyes.

**

Someone else stood beneath the stars that night, gazing up at the distant moon that looked so clear, so serene, and so lonely. But perhaps that was only his heart projecting what he himself felt.

He stood at the edge of the graveyard against an old oak tree. Overhead somewhere an owl cried out its endless question, and the cool night wind carried it away. He closed his eyes for a moment and her image appeared in the familiar darkness. The wind brought to him a sweet scent that reminded him of her hair, and a soft sound in the grass had him believing for a moment that she stood beside him, waiting for him to open his eyes and smile at her.

"Angel?" a woman's voice asked.

The image shattered, gone like the owl's cries with the wind of the night. The voice was sweet, pure, caring - and not a thing like the woman's he'd been thinking of.

"Here," he answered, pushing away from the tree.

Kate circled around the oak, smiled when she saw him standing there. "I wondered where you went. Trying to give me the slip?"

The breeze teased her brown hair away from her face; the bright moon set her blue eyes to shining. There was laughter and peace in her smile. Angel forced himself to smile at her, but he turned his eyes away. She reminded him of the one he loved enough that it caused him pain, even if she was like Buffy only as the echo is like the shout it mirrors.

Kate took his smile for an answer and stretched out her hand, reaching for his.

Angel hesitated, then took her hand. Kate's hand wasn't like Buffy's. Kate's hand was smooth, soft, fine boned; Buffy's had been different. Buffy's hand had been soft, yes, but tough, too, and calloused and full of strength. Like Buffy herself.

"You're brooding," Kate accused, stepping infront of him to look in his eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

He shrugged, brought the back of her hand to his lips. "You," he answered. But he lied, and even as his lips brushed her skin he was thinking of her, wondering if she was safe and happy and - every one in a while - thinking about him.

*****

It was late when Buffy left Riley's place and headed back to her dorm. It was past the deepest part of the night and into the small hours of the morning. At some point a breeze had sprung up; Buffy pulled her jacket tighter around her and shivered, wishing she'd just stayed at Riley's. He had a couch - but knowing Riley, he probably would have given her the bed. He was the chivalrous kind - he wouldn't even have tried anything, by her guess.

Walking across the street, Buffy glanced up at the moon. It was full and bright; its brightness blotted out the surrounding stars' smaller lights, leaving it to hang solitary in the sky. Its eerie paleness filled the darkness with odd light.

On the breeze an owl's lonely question wandered through the night. It was a forlorn sound, comprised of confusion and loss and some other undefinable quality. Buffy shivered again, but not from the cold.

"Greetings, my friend."

Startled, Buffy immediately fell into a defensive stance, legs astraddle, fists balled and ready. Then she saw who stood before her, and she relaxed.

The woman was neither tall nor short but somewhere in between. Her hair was black, black as a moonless sky at midnight, and drawn back into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder almost down to her waist. Her eyes were like twin pools of icy water - clear, yet reflecting nothing but the silver light that shone down on them. She was dressed oddly in some flowing dress that was half concealed by the dark cloak thrown over her shoulders. In her left hand she held a staff that was taller that she by a good foot; its wood was smooth and shiny, as if polished by age.

"You really shouldn't sneak up on people in the middle of the night," Buffy told the woman, smiling to take the sting out of her words. The woman smiled back, a soft, sad smile, and for a moment Buffy felt a strong wave of deja vu pass over her.

"You should not be alone," the woman countered. She cocked her head to one side, gave Buffy an appraising glance. "It wasn't meant to be like this, my friend. In this life, things were to be different. Kings cannot always have a kingdom, and queens need not always be bound apart from their heart's equals."

Buffy gave the woman a weird look. "Uh, right. Whatever you say. You have a good night. Watch out for strangers." Carefully she stepped around the woman. The lady fit right in with the rest of Sunnydale's crazies. At least she wasn't hurting anything - not yet, anyway.

The woman turned to look after her. "Wait, my lady! Halt! He loves you. Do not let him do this once more."

Buffy stopped, looked back at the beautiful woman. "What are you talking about?" She paused, stepped towards the woman. "Who are you?"

An odd emotion passed over the woman's features, as if the question pained her. "I am your friend, lady. And you know of whom I speak. It broke his heart to leave you, but it is only pride that keeps him away. Soon - soon it will be too late. The pattern will be repeated, and not even I will be able to undo it." She stretched out her hand imploringly. "Please, lady, take my hand. I will take you to him. We will set things aright."

Buffy had the oddest urge to take the woman's hand. She shook her head, trying to break the words that surrounded her. There was something about this woman, something she couldn't quite understand. . .

"No," she said, stepping backwards. She realized all at once that the woman was talking about Angel. How did she know about Angel, and how things stood between them?

"Leave me alone," she told the woman, quickly backing up. After a moment she turned and ran, instinct telling her to put as much space between herself and the woman as possible.

The woman watched her go. A sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head. "This shall be more difficult than I anticipated," she muttered. "You never were one to be easily enchanted, Gwen."

**

He watched her bright hair vanish out of view and smiled without even knowing it, full of the joy she brought with her wherever she went. Full of her smile, her laugh, her bright eyes. Buoyed by her vivacity, her teasing and her sweet happy glow.

He'd never felt anywhere else the happiness that she brought.

Riley's grin broadened. Pretty deep for a senior in college. His mother (well, foster mother; he was adopted) would be proud. But then, Riley had never been the goofy type.

He turned reluctantly from the window, pulling his shirt off as he did. It wasn't until the shirt was over his head that he realized there was a woman standing just inside the door, watching him with strange silvery blue eyes. He yelped in surprise and pulled the shirt back on as quickly as he could. A corner of her serene mouth turned up.

"Uh.can I help you?" Riley asked, wondering how she had gotten in the door without him hearing. Her smile was warm and friendly, and yet he thought somehow it was sad as well.

"I wish you could, but I'm afraid it must be the other way around my lord," she said softly, a lilting accent in her voice.

"My lord? I think you may have the wrong apartment," Riley said carefully, frowning and wondering if maybe this was one of those odd people Buffy was constantly warning him about. For a generally happy, lively person she could be rather anxious sometimes.

"No, no, I'm sure 'tis the right one. You have not changed at all, my lord, only grown young again." Her voice seemed to fade off and then catch at the end. "So very young," she breathed, so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Do you live in the building?" Riley asked uneasily. How else had she gotten up? Or maybe someone had rung her in and she came to his apartment by accident. The odd, sad look vanished from the woman's eyes and she took a deep breath, facing Riley with purpose clear on her face. He frowned, wondering suddenly what she meant by calling him young. She couldn't be more than thirty!

"I have things and things to tell you, and not much time," she said, her voice sounding far older than her face looked to be. "My lord, you are in danger, the world is in danger, while you continue to see her. You must let her go, or there will be no hope for any of us."

"Let who g-Buffy?" Riley asked confused, the only woman he could be said to posess in any way springing to mind. Now that anyone could really possess Buffy. She was like a force of nature, beautiful and alive-but he was getting distracted.

"Aye," the woman replied softly, sadness in her eyes. "For all of your sakes, and more, for the world, you must let her go my lord. I know you love her in thy soul, but you must let her go."

This was going too far. Riley frowned. He considered himself a nice person-certainly he was willing to listen to everyone's say, but when they started telling him to "let go" of his long-time girlfriend, he lost a bit of his famous patience. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not letting anyone go unless they wish it. Now, can I take you home?"

Her otherwordly eyes narrowed as she watched him. "You wouldn't know what she wished if it was-" she cut herself off and took a deep breath. "Well, I have done my best. I thank ye for your courtesy, but I need no help on my way. The night is long and I have many tasks yet undone. I bid ye good night, and leave you with a warning."

"A warning?" Riley asked, wondering how he could get her out without being mean. She was making him nervous, but he hated being rude when there wasn't really a reason. Though she had let herself in, which wasn't exactly polite.

"Anyone can build a kingdom. Only the true king can have the strength to keep it," she told him softly. He frowned, and watched as she opened the door and walked out of his apartment, her cloak swirling about her. The door closed, and despite himself Riley sprang forward, opening the door to call out to her and ask what she meant.

The hall was empty.

**

The first rays of dawn were almost at hand when Angel slipped back into his apartment. Quickly he drew the blinds, then took a moment to check the answering machine and set aside his keys. It was only as he was removing his jacket that he saw her.

A woman sat on his black couch staring at him. He jumped, startled, then glared at her. "Who the hell are you?"

The woman laughed. The musical sound filled the room, somehow made the apartment feel warm and peaceful. "One day, my lord, you must find a new way to greet me," she said, greatly amused.

Angel's anger was replaced by confusion. Did he know this woman? She obviously knew him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. . .

"What are you doing here?" he countered, pretending like he remembered her.

Her left eyebrow arched, showing him that she was not fooled. "I have come to keep you from the agony you so clearly deem to be your lot in every life."

He didn't know what to make of that. Slowly he circled around the couch to stand before her. "Let's cut the crap. Who are you and what do you want?"

She sighed, pressed her full lips together in a disapproving frown. "You never used to be so graceless. Truly told, I have come to spare you three, to keep the pledge I made so long ago. You are doing it once more, you idiot! In this life, you were meant to be with her. To guard her, flesh and spirit."

Angel's dark eyes locked with the woman's cool blue ones. "Buffy."

"Aye," the woman nodded. "You know the truth. Go, return to her, ere it is too late."

"I can't." He turned away from the woman. "She needs someone else -"

"Spare me your arguments," the woman interrupted. "I have heard them before. They change naught. Listen to my council. If you love her, go."

Without looking at her he shook his head. "It's better this way."

A hiss of anger came from the woman. "The three of you! You always make things so much more difficult than they must be. On your heads, then. I will see my pledge filled."

At the determination in the woman's words Angel turned, but she was gone, and he stood alone in the apartment.

Part Two

Buffy stared at the phone, feeling oddly like a girl after a first date, waiting to see if he would call. Of course, she knew Angel wouldn't call. Which was why she had to call him.

She'd been steeling herself since the night before. On the Hellmouth, you learned not to ignore craxy women giving you odd warnings. And it had involved Angel, so she figured she shoulod let him know. Now if only she could make herself pick up the phone.

"We're g-what are you doing?" Willow inquired, stopping as she walked into the room. Buffy blushed.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, seizing the phone just to prove she could. Willow eyed her and Buffy gave her a sweet smile. "You were saying?"

"Or right, we're going to the Bronze to meet Xand. You in?"

"Nah. I'll see ya later though," Buffy said. Willow gave her an odd look, but Oz came in, so Willow waved and left. Buffy watched them go, wondering why she wasn't with them. After all, they were meeting Xander so it wasn't a date. She was just busy. And she didn't feel like it.

Since when didn't she feel like going to the Bronze?

Buffy tore her thoughts away from her social life and turned her attention back to the phone. She'd been making excuses all day-he would be sleeping, he would be busy-but now it was completely dark.

She hit the "on" button and started to dial.

It wasn't like she'd never called before. It was just.it had been so long, and she had a feeling this would be one of the bad times. One of the times where every word he said reminded her of how much Riley wasn't him.

It was busy.

Buffy hung up the phone, stuck between showed and relieved. She glanced at her watch and decided she should see if Riley wanted to do something. Maybe they could go join the gang at the Bronze. No use sitting around moping anyway. And she could patrol a little on the way.

Moments later she was out the door, the busy signal still beeping in her mind.

**

Angel hung up.

It was busy.

Who was she talking to? he wondered. Riley? God, not Riley. Anyone but Riley.

They'd never discussed their respective significant others, but he'd heard plenty through Cordelia. Riley was human, and perfect. Everything he had wanted for Buffy . But by any gods that existed the thought of it hurt.

He'd been trying to make himself call since that morning. She deserved to know about that woman.

Angel stared at the phone morosely and then threw himself down at the couch, wondering if the darkness he felt was the demon or only himself.

**

Smile, Buffy told herself as she walked down the street. Smile, you're going Bronzing.

But she didn't feel like smiling. Some part of her didn't feel right at all. There was an odd stinging behind her eyes, and an awful ache in the center of her chest. And she was tired, deeply tired, as if she had been crying for a long time.

With a sigh she stopped. What was she doing? She didn't want to go to the Bronze. She didn't want to go anywhere, except maybe Riley's. At that idea she perked up a little. Yeah, she'd go see Riley, he'd make her feel better.

She glanced around, taking stock of her surroundings. She was in the park. It was deserted, of course; the full moon shone down eerily onto the various swings and slides, and a cool breeze half turned the merry-go-round, making it screech and groan. This was the Hansel and Gretel Demon park - not her favorite place.

Even though Riley never minded when she dropped in, Buffy thought that she should probably call before showing up on his doorstep. She moved towards the phone booth at the edge of the park, digging coins out of her pocket as she walked. She stepped into the booth, didn't bother to close the door, inserted the coins and dialed his number.

Ring, ring. She tapped her fingers on the glass while she waited. Beside the phone someone had scribbled a red heart pierced by a gold arrow. Buffy traced it with a fingertip, suddenly remembering a time she had drawn hearts and arrows on the back of all her notebooks. She hadn't done that for a long time. Ring, ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey you, it's me," Buffy said, turning her eyes away from the heart. "Feel up to some company?"

"You didn't even have to ask," Riley answered, a smile in his voice. "This is Sandra, isn't it?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Buffy returned. "I'll be over in a minute. I'm at the park -"

Suddenly the phone went dead.

Buffy muttered a curse, pounded up and down on the lever for a moment, then rolled her eyes and hung up the phone. Cheap thing.

She sighed and stepped out of the booth. Ugh, it was cold tonight. That little breeze that kept whizzing by was cool, cooler than it should have been on such a night. She crossed her arms, hugging herself, but found herself shivering nonetheless when an owl's lonely question lost itself to the wind.

"Riley," she said firmly, taking a step away from the booth. "Go to Riley's house, you'll be warm. Don't be an idiot and just stand here. . ."

Head down, shoulders hunched, she walked forward and nearly bumped smack into the woman before her.

Buffy jumped, startled. "Jeez, lady, you've got to stop doing that," she said, for it was the same strange woman that she had encountered the night before.

"My apologies," the woman said gravely, although there was a faint sparkle in her eyes. "I would not have thought you so easy to come upon unawares."

"You learn something new everyday," Buffy grumbled, easing past her. The woman made her feel - weird. Something about those piercing eyes - or maybe it was her calm, serene manner - or maybe it was the way she was toying with the long stemmed red rose in her hands. Whatever it was, it definitely made her uneasy.

But the woman was not ready to let her go. "Wait," she called after Buffy, and the Slayer reluctantly turned to face her.

Slowly the woman walked towards her until there was only a small space between them. Odd how her boots made no sound as she walked.

"I have a thing to tell you," the woman said. There was an earnestness and a softness in her voice that suddenly made her seem young, younger by far than the tired wisdom in her eyes claimed that she was. It was the odd clash of age and youth that tugged at Buffy's curiosity and kept her near the woman.

"I'm listening."

The woman glanced down at the rose in her hands. "Long ago I knew three people that were very dear to my heart - a woman and two men. These three. . . they had every reason to be happy, and yet every reason to sorrow. Another time, another place - things would have been far different." The woman's eyes shifted up to meet Buffy's; they were clouded with memories. "I swore a vow that I would never allow them to fall victim to this sorrow again. I have searched - years, more years that you could ever imagine. Alone I have wondered from one corner of this world to another. And now, I can fulfill my vow, and at last be free."

Buffy listened sympathetically to the woman, but she really couldn't understand what her point was. "What has this got to do with me? Do you need help? I'll help you if I can," she added because her words sounded uncaring even to her own ears.

But the woman smiled and held out the rose to her. "You would never do what I ask of you," she said. "'Twould be beyond what your mind would decree, even if your heart commanded it."

"I still don't understand," Buffy said, reaching out to take the flower. "If you could be a little more specific - ow." She looked down at her hand. A small trickle of blood ran down her thumb from where one of the rose's thorns had pricked it.

"You will understand soon," the woman said calmly.

Buffy was seized by a wave of dizziness. She felt hot, then suddenly cold, colder than she'd felt in a long time. She looked at the strange woman with knowledge in her eyes. "You tricked me," she accused, her tongue thick in her mouth.

The woman had the gall to offer a smile and shrug. "Alas, 'tis an old trick, but it works each time."

As Buffy's eyes slid shut, her body crumpled and slipped towards the ground, the woman caught her by the shoulders and gently laid her on the earth, half sprawled on her side, her head resting just to the side of a large rock. In a half muted voice the woman muttered the words of an ancient spell in a long forgotten tongue.

"Angel," Buffy half whispered as the woman stood up from her.

The woman sighed. "Aye, he is in this as well. Sleep, lady, sleep. I will let no harm come to you."

"What the hell are you doing?"

The angry cry sent the woman spinning to face the accuser as he came running through the park, flushed and out of breath.

Riley came to a stop barely a few feet away from the woman. He looked down at Buffy and then up at the strange woman, and when his gaze met hers she saw the barely controlled rage in his eyes.

"I have done her no ill," she said in her own defense. "She will be well in the end." And without another word she turned, her cloak swirling around her ankles, and was gone.

Riley sent a snarl after her and then dropped to his knees beside Buffy, who was neither moving nor making a sound.

**

"Where is she?" Giles demanded the moment he saw Riley.

"In there," he replied emptily, waving a hand toward the bustling emergency room. Giles' mouth firmed into a line of concern, Willow bit her lip and tightened her grip on Oz's hand.

"What happened?" Xander demanded. Riley looked up and met Giles' eyes, wondering again what precisely this man was to Buffy. He knew Giles had been the librarian at their old school, and that Buffy thought of him almost as a father, but he didn't know why. Not that he minded-he had always liked Giles, and he was glad to have him here. Glad to have them all. He turned to look at Xander as he answered his question.

"I don't know. She called me and said she was coming over, and that she was at the park, but then the phone went dead. I figured it had accidentally been disconnected and that I would walk there to meet her. When I got to the park-last night, after Buffy went home, this strange woman showed up in my apartment babbling something about leaving Buffy. Well, she was there when I got to the park, and Buffy was on the ground, unconscious. She said that Buffy would be all right, and then she.dissapeared." Riley frowned. "Do any of you know who she was?"

Giles' face had gone hard. He shook his head. "Not yet, but we will find her. Have the doctors said how Buffy is doing?"

"Not yet," Riley replied. "There weren't any injuries or anything.not that I could see. She was just so still." He just stopped a shudder and Xander put a hand on his shoulder, looking more serious than the college senior had ever seen him.

"What did the woman look like?" Willow asked, her eyes wide with worry. Riley frowned, trying to remember. He knew what she looked like, but somehow, it was beyond description. The words slipped away before he could find them. He didn't have to, because a woman in scrubs and a doctor's coat came out and walked over to them.

"Mr. Finn?" she asked. Riley nodded. "Are these all Buffy's family?"

"Friends," Willow replied. "Is she all right?" The doctor gave them all a reassuring smile before answering.

"The good news is she's alive and as far as we can tell, not in any way hurt. There's no sign of any injuries. There doesn't seem to be any internal injuries either, though we're still doing tests. Her heartbeat was fainter and slower than normal, but steady and definitely there."

"So what's wrong with her?" Xander asked, obviously hoping the answer was "nothing". The doctor pursed her lips.

"She's in a coma. What put her there, we can't really say, but we've been trying to revive her, and nothing is working. She's not dead, or even in bad health. She just won't wake up. We're going to move her up to the Intensive Care Units and hope that this is just temporary."

"So that's all you can do? Hope?" Xander asked, his voice rising. Riley put a hand on his arm.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Can we see her?" The doctor nodded.

"We have to wait until we get the test results back to move her, so why don't you come see her now. In the ICU, you can come any time during visitor hours." Riley nodded and followed her, without checking to see what the others were doing. Which was holding a hurried conference.

"First of all, we must find who this mysterious woman is," Giles said.

"And what's wrong with Buffy," Willow put in.

"Maybe she's just tired," Xander joked. They all gave him looks and he shut up.

"As soon as we can without making Riley suspicious, we must go and research," Giles said firmly. They nodded, understanding. Riley knew about what Buffy was, and he'd worked with them.but he wasn't one of them, and they didn't want him to get the Initiative involved before they knew what was going on.

"Okay, I'm good for the whole night, I don't have any classes until two tomorrow," Willow replied.

"Me too," Oz put in.

"Well, I have no classes ever, so I'm in," Xander whispered. Giles nodded and they followed Riley.

The room was pretty small, but the other bed was empty, so they fit in all right. Riley waited for them to go in, wondering vaguely what they were doing. Mostly though, he was frightened, and angry at that woman. She had done something to Buffy, he knew she had.

She lay in the bed totally still, only the incessant beeping of the heart monitor showing that she was alive at all.

But the worst thing, by far, was the helplessness on her face.

**

"Look, just because I said you have the fashion sense of a monkey doesn't mean I want to take you clothes shopping. Jeez, get a life," Cordelia threw over her shoulder as she went to answer the phone.

"Well excuse me for readin' some *meanin'* into your words at all," Doyle returned. "And another thing -"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Do you mind? I'm answering the phone!" She automatically smiled as she lifted the receiver and said, "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless."

Doyle watched as her answer-the-phone smile disappeared, was replaced by a look of annoyance much like the one she had been wearing only a minute before. "Oh, hi, Willow. You're not calling because the world's ending, are you?" Doyle started to make a smart remark, then halted when Cordelia's eyes widened and her face paled. "What? Oh God. Yeah, he's here. Hang on, I'll get him."

"What's wrong?" Doyle asked as the secretary cum actress woodenly laid down the receiver. She ignored him, moving instead towards the closed door of Angel's office. "What's goin' on?"

Cordelia swung open the door to the office without even her usual call of "Angel -". Standing behind her, Doyle watched as both Angel's and - what was her name? oh yeah - Kate's face turned to look at her. The vampire and detective stood beside each other, a map of some kind laid on the desk before them.

"Not now, Cordelia," Angel said, returning his gaze to the map.

"Angel, this is important," Cordelia began, her voice filled with some emotion Doyle had never heard from her before - genuine concern, perhaps?

After one dismissive look at Cordelia, Kate too had returned her attention to the map. Now she laid a finger on it, traced a path along some black line. "He could be traveling along this route. It matches all -"

"Angel, this is really important," Cordelia interrupted, an edge in her voice.

"Just five minutes and I'll be with you," Angel said, flashing her a 'that's final' look. "He'd have to do an awful lot of fast walking for that," he told Kate as he crossed his arms.

Kate shook her head, sending her hair over a shoulder. "Not if he caught the bus or a cab from here to here -"

"Angel, Willow's on the phone and she wants to talk to you about Buffy," Cordelia announced over the detective's words.

That got Angel's attention. He glanced at Cordelia blankly for a moment, as if every coherent thought had abruptly fled his mind. Suddenly he snatched at the phone, pulled it to his ear and spoke all in one motion.

"Willow, what's happened to Buffy?"

*****

In a hospital over two hours away, Willow turned her face away from Giles pacing up and down the hallway, Riley demanding information from a duty nurse, and Oz and Xander sitting side by side staring at the wall. She put a finger to her ear, blocking out all the noises that filled the waiting area, and spoke softly into the receiver.

"Angel, I don't know how to say this," she began, taking a deep breath. "There's been an accident. . ."

Part Three

The first thing Buffy noticed was that her bed was awfully uncomfortable. There were all these things sticking into her back-it felt like laying on a pile of straw! Then she thought very clearly that she didn't want to wake up, but that everyone was waiting and she really ought to. She could hear them, above her, talking in worried voices. Riley, Giles.was that Willow?

She opened her eyes slowly and waited for them to adjust to the light. The first face she saw was Riley, and she smiled involuntarily at the love and relief in his blue eyes.

"Hi," she whispered and his smile broadened. One of his fingers brushed her face-it felt much more calloused than she remembered. She turned her head to see who else was there, and all of a sudden, sleepiness vanished, as her head snapped back to Riley.

Or whoever he was.

Because Riley-and he was Riley, she was certain-was old, with a beard, and gray lacing his light hair.

Buffy tried to sit up, but hands stopped her and she glanced over at Giles, who also looked older, and had the oddest robes on.She frowned and tried to push them off and sit up again, but somehow it didn't work. She sank back into the pillows and frowned harder.

"What's going on?" she demanded, looking from Giles to Riley and back, trying to make sense of what was happening. What was the last thing she remembered? That strange woman in the park, and a rose and.and nothing.

"You fell Gwen," the-Riley-lookalike said softly, smoothing her hair. "Don't you remember? We were hunting with Lance and Morgaine, and your horse startled. Merlin says you hit your head." He gestured to the-Giles-lookalike with the last name and Buffy's frown deepened yet again as she turned to look at the other man. Merlin? As in the wizard? She looked back to the first man and wondered why he was calling her Gwen.

"Let me talk to her," Willow's voice said, and Buffy looked over, noticing her for the first time. She stood a ways away from the bed, but she walked over quickly and sat on the edge, giving Buffy a small smile. Buffy blinked, even more shocked this time. It was definitely Willow, but her hair was so dark a red that it almost looked black, and her eyes were different-much older, and wiser and Willow but yet not Willow at all. "People often lose memories with head injuries. Do you know who I am?" she asked Buffy.

And the strange thing was, she did. She saw Willow, but suddenly, she also knew who this woman was.

"Morgaine," she said, and glanced at the Riley-lookalike. He smiled at her and nodded.

"And who am I?" he asked. She wanted to say Riley, but it wasn't. She thought for a moment.

"A-Arthur?" He smiled.

"See, she knows who she is."

Except that was the problem. Because while she could think of who they were, she was a little lost on who she was supposed to be. Besides herself.

< Think girl, > she told herself.

"Guinevere!" she exclaimed under her breath, remembering. Then she frowned. How was that possible? Guinevere, not to mention King Arthur and Merlin and all the rest were legends. There was nothing real about them. And she certainly was not inhabiting someone else's body.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Why else would they all look like her friends?

"I'm all right," she said to Riley, sitting up a little. "I was just a little fuzzy at first, but I feel fine now."

The problem was, it didn't feel like a dream at all. It all seemed very real. She could feel the straw of the bed beneath her, and the sword callouses on Riley's-Arthur's-hands. She reached out and brushed her hand across the velvet of the hangings over the bed. Definitely real.

"See, Lance, I told you she'd be all right," Arthur called over his shoulder. Buffy frowned. She really should have paid more attention when Willow was trying to explain her book. Or less. It was probably Willow's book that had prompted this dream in the first place.

Lance? Lancelot.

Angel.

Buffy froze as he walked into view, his eyes dark with worry and love and-and something else. Pain. Guilt. "You were, as always right," he said softly and Buffy was startled to realize he was speaking to Arthur, because his eyes were only for her, as hers were for him.

"There is something." Merlin murmured, and Buffy tore her attention away from Angel-Lancelot-and to her Watcher-that is, the wizard. Morgaine was frowning.

"What?" Arthur demanded, worry in his voice. Buffy met Merlin's dark eyes, the familiar gaze of an almost-father, and shivered at the unexpected depths in them. She looked away, and Merlin shook his head.

"Nothing. The queen seems to be fine."

"Tell the servants to tell me at once does she show any signs of dizziness of fatigue," Morgaine instructed Arthur.

"I shall." He turned his attention to Buffy and smiled warmly. She took a deep breath, wondering what this was, if it wasn't a dream, and it wasn't reality. And then she glanced at Angel-no, not Angel-and at the dark eyes that she had missed so much, that were still the same here, wherever here was, and for a moment, she didn't care.

**

She laid in the uncomfortable bed for hours. Every time she tried to get up, some young girl wearing way too many clothes would glide to her side, protesting that she must not rise, she had taken a terrible fall.

"God, it's not like I've never fallen before," Buffy grumbled after the third time this had happened.

The serving woman - nothing more than a girl, really, with her brown hair and wide brown eyes - looked at Buffy with genuine shock on her face. "But, m'lady, m'lord the king expressly forbid that you should stir about today."

That made Buffy pause. If this wasn't a dream - or even if it was - how much did she really know about this Arthur fellow? So he looked like Riley, and her heart said he was Riley, and when he touched her, he felt like Riley - so what? She scoured her memory, searching for every scrap of information that she could remember about him; it turned out to be next to nothing. Dammit, why couldn't she have paid more attention to Willow (or had she already paid the story too much attention?)

Arthur was king of the round table - she could remember that much. And he had a son by his half sister - eew. And he ruled Camelot.

And he'd burned his beloved wife at the stake. Too bad she couldn't quite recall why. Something about sex.

Whatever the reason, it was enough to keep her in bed - or what passed for a bed, anyway. She laid back and thought wildly about how she was going to get back to her own time, or how she could wake herself up. Her biggest fear was that she'd be stuck in this whatever-it-was long enough that she'd have to visit the bathroom, which she knew was absolutely nothing like a bathroom in her own time. Ugh.

*****

She must have dozed, because she closed her eyes for a moment and when she reopened them darkness was falling and Riley/Arthur was at her side.

It was startling to see him, so much like the one she knew and yet so unlike him. Looking down at her he smiled, but his eyes were tired, so tired, and they lacked a little of the fire that she usually saw in her Riley's.

"I didn't think I'd find you still here," he said, his voice teasing.

Buffy smiled, gestured at the few young women making themselves scarce in a corner of the chamber. "You gave an order. They had a fit every time I made a move."

That made him laugh. "Aye, but when was the last time you heeded any order I gave? You're the queen, accountable to no one - certainly not the servants, noble or no," he added, his voice changing a little as if reminding her of these things.

Buffy nodded quickly, wondering if he saw that she wasn't really Guinevere - wasn't really his wife.

"I do despise leaving you after this fall you've had," Riley/Arthur sighed. "You know if it could be avoided, I would not go. But the trouble in the east . . ." he trailed off, sighing again.

"Of course. The trouble in the east," she said, hoping that was the right answer. "I know you'll come back as soon as you can."

"Of course," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her.

It was weird to kiss him. He was Riley - but he wasn't. Some things were the same - some were different. His beard tickled.

"I will return soon," he promises as he leaned back. "Until then, I leave Lancelot here in my stead. Wish me Godspead."

When Riley/Arthur was gone, Buffy pushed back the thick, heavy blankets and set her feet on the floor - which was stone and hard and covered with elaborate rugs woven with vivid colors of scarlet, gold, and black. Buffy glanced down at the clothes she wore. God, they had sent her to bed with so many clothes on that she could be warm in an Alaskan winter - floor length white dress, white tights and little grey house-shoes. Talk about overdressed.

She glanced at the women looking at her with a great deal of concern. Pushing herself to her feet, she announced, "Come on, guys, let's go for a little walk." She figured she might as well get a good look around this dream while she was here.

She was half way towards the door she had watched Riley/Arthur leave through before she realized that no one was following her. Turning, she saw the shock on their faces. "What's wrong now?"

A brown haired woman moved forward and did some weird bowing/bending thing before explaining, "My lady queen, surely you do not mean to go about in your underclothes."

"Underclothes?' Buffy echoed, glancing down at herself. Realization slowly dawned. "Oh no, more clothes?"

The woman nodded to her fellow attendants. "A gown for the queen," she commanded.

Buffy watched as the young women brought forth yards and yards of a deep blue material laced through with silver threads. The thing was massive, and took two women to carry it.

"Will this do, m'lady?" the brown haired woman asked.

Buffy turned a disbelieving look on her. "I'm not wearing that! I'm not even sure I could *carry* it!"

The attendant blinked. "What would you have then, m'lady?"

About one fourth of what I'm already wearing, Buffy was tempted to say, but thought better of it. The women were already looking at her as if she'd grown an extra head. Instead she racked her brain for something that she *could* ask for that wouldn't further shock the ladies. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. "I know. Get me a set of pants and shirt from one of those boys in the hallway. I'll blend right in."

Silence, absolute silence. Now the woman weren't even looking at her, but rather at the floor or each other.

After a moment the brown haired woman turned her head towards the other attendants. "Return the gown and then retire for the night. The queen's accident has tired her and is muddling her thoughts. I shall wait upon her myself."

The four young women did that odd bobbing thing again before scurrying away. Within a few moments Buffy and the attendant were alone in the room.

The woman looked Buffy full in the face for the first time. "That was very stupid, Gwen. You may believe them absolutely loyal to you, but they are still young chits and their tongues wag in the breeze. You must watch what you say."

Okay, so this woman was obviously more then just a servant. Buffy searched her mind, praying some name would appear as it had for the others. But in her conscience no title presented itself, and she was left scrambling for something to say.

"Of course, you're right," she stumbled. "Why-why are you here?'

"Merlin and I thought it would be wise if you weren't left unguarded for a time," the woman answered. She stretched out her hands to Buffy; in them she held shirt and pants such as the young boys in the hallway wore. "We have little doubt that your accident was due to Mordred's influence."

"Mordred," Buffy echoed. Oh God, who was Mordred? Who was this woman? She took the clothes. "I can't remember your name," she admitted quietly.

The woman's brows drew together in a frown. "That fall - you must have hit your head harder than I thought. This is how I occasionally came to you when the need arises. Do you know me in my true form?"

Before Buffy's eyes the woman shifted and flowed until a far different person stood in her place, a woman with midnight black hair and icy blue eyes.

The woman from the park.

"Nimue," Buffy breathed softly, bits of understanding flooding her mind.

The woman smiled. "Aye, so you do remember."

"Oh yes," Buffy said slowly. "Oh yes."

**

The hospital lighting was horribly florescent. There was no one but a few cleaners and the couple of doctors coerced somehow into taking the late shift to see Angel violate visitor hours and walk straight through the nearly abandoned halls to the ICU unit, to where his soul slept, unwaking.

Willow had given him the room number, so he walked straight there, not stopping to ask anyone for directions, and no one bothered him, seeing something in his eyes that would not be stopped. He walked to her room and stopped outside the door, seeing the one thing in the world that could stop him.

The man she loved.

Riley Finn.

He was sitting beside the bed, his eyes closed-no wonder, it was almost two in the morning-one hand curled around Buffy's limp one.

Buffy.

Oh God

Angel closed his eyes, unable to take the scene presented to him. Buffy, barely breathing, attached to an IV and a heart monitor, her hand held by the man that was everything to her Angel wasn't. He thought about leaving in that moment, considered how little they needed him here, how litle he belonged. He was no longer part of her life-he had walked out of it, and that had been his choice and his choice alone. And he had lost his place in her world, even though she was still everything in his.

But she was hurt, and he couldn't leave. He couldn't. He stepped into the room.

Riley moved, and opened his blue eyes to regard Angel with surprise. He glanced at his watch and blinked again, rubbing his eyes. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I.Willow called me," Angel replied quietly. "I'm an old friend." Riley's glance turned slightly appraising, obviously trying to figure out just how good of a friend Angel had been.

You have no idea, Angel thought, watching the young man.

"Oh. I'm Riley Finn, Buffy's boyfriend," he said, standing up and introducing himself. He held out his hand and Angel looked at it for a moment, as if unsure what to do, and then took it, shaking slowly.

"Angel." Riley frowned. "That's my name. Angel." Comprehension dawned and Riley grinned wryly.

"I'm a little tired, sorry," he said. Angel shrugged.

"How is she?" His eyes went back to Buffy, looking almost like she was asleep and yet.so much farther away. How many times had he watched her sleeping, from her window, or with her in his arms, knowing that she there would be a moment when she would open her eyes, and smile, and be his again?

What if she never opened her eyes?

Angel felt a pain hit his gut at the very thought. What would he do? How would he live knowing she wasn't on the earth anymore, wasn't making every moment bearable with her very existence?

"There's no injuries," Riley was saying. "They can't tell what happened. I think she was attacked though."

"Attacked?" Angel asked, frowning, and looking to the young man. Willow hadn't said anything.but he hadn't given her much time to explain.

"Yeah, she was in the park and this woman-well I didn't see much, just Buffy falling down, unconscious."

"A woman?" Angel asked, feeling a cold chill, as if he could really feel heat or cold. A picture flashed through his mind of a dark haired woman in his office, making cryptic comments about Buffy. If she hurt her.

"Yeah, she was-" Riley stopped as the door opened again and Willow stepped inside. Angel turned and her tired eyes met his, brightening a bit. She smiled.

"Angel, you came!" she exclaimed.

"Of course. I came as fast as I could. Cordelia too, but she's at the hotel getting some sleep."

"Which you don't need," Willow said cheerfully, then glance at Riley, her eyes widening, "Cause you're a night person. And you like to be awake.at night."

"Right. A night person." So Riley didn't know anything. Angel hadn't been sure. He knew Riley knew about Buffy's Slayer status, but whether she'd shared about her ex-boyfriend was an entirely different story.

"Anyway, thanks for coming," the red-head said warmly. "I just wanted to check up on you Riley. A doctor stopped me on the way in and said we had to clear out though." She glanced at Buffy and lost the cheerfulness. "I wish we could stay. I hate to leave her alone like this."

"We'll come back in the morning," Angel said, stepping closer to Willow. She nodded and Riley watched with a puzzled frown. Angel? Where had he heard the name before? One of the must have mentioned it in some conversation. Was he an old boyfriend of Buffy's? He must be in his mid twenties at least.

"Come on Will, let's go get some sleep," Riley said, taking Willow's arm. She nodded and followed, then stopped and glanced back at Angel.

"I'll be out in a minute," he said. She glanced at Buffy's still form and nodded, pulling Riley out the door with her. Angel glanced at them leaving, and then turned back to the bed, his whole being riveted on her. It had been so long since he'd seen her.and it had to be like this. He sat down in the chair beside her and took her hand, closing his senses against's it's limpness. He kissed her hand, and then her palm, and then her forehead, begging her to wake up, to look at him, to tell him that it would be all right and he was silly for worrying. He needed her to wake up and tell him that he was still a part of her life, even though he knew it would be a lie.

"I love you," Angel said softly, "With all my heart, with all my soul. I love you. Don't leave me Buffy. Oh God, don't leave me. I can't survive without you." The heart monitor continued it's steady beeping, and there was no sign that she had heard anything. He closed his eyes and kissed her hand again, and then laid it gently down and stood, walking out of the small, spare hospital room.

**

Buffy tensed at the soft opening of the door. How anyone could open a door that heavy without any apparent effort was beyond her-her strength was obviously not what it had been, and she'd struggled with the damn thing for ten minutes. She'd almost missed the knights riding away, that last sight of Riley (Arthur!) on his great white stallion. Gorgeous animal, and he rode it wonderfully. And there was just something about a man with a sword.of course, there was also something about watching Lancelot (that she had finally accepted, having seen him standing full in the sunlight. He at least, was certainly not who she knew him to be) bid them goodbye, holding Arthur's stirrup for him, as if he were a lowly groom to the High King, rather than his most celebrated of knights (and how did she know that anyway? These things just kept popping into her head.what exactly was a groom?)

Once she'd changed, she'd professed a desire to the once-again disguised Nimue to see Arthur and the knights ride away. Since her attire wasn't exactly suitable for a formal goodbye, the sorceress (for Buffy was sure she was one of some kind) had suggested this tower, and given her directions. She'd found it without too much trouble, and watched them go in their shining armor, mounted on their great war-steeds. She'd actually recognized quite a few of them (thought it was harder with those big helmets on).

A few minutes ago they had disappeared and the gates had swung slowly shut. Lancelot had stared after them for a long moment, with such an odd expression of mixed longing and sharply contained joy (nobody but Buffy would probably have been able to read the expression at all) that she wasn't sure whether he wished vehemently that he had gone, or was ecstatic to stay in Camelot with her. She'd stayed at the window when he slowly walked back inside, and life in the courtyard began again, servants hurrying to and fro, pages and scullery maids and grooms (what were grooms?)

And then the door opened.

There was a moment of silence as Buffy's mind searched frantically for a weapon. There was a chair, but she doubted she could break it in her current state.

And then he spoke.

"Gwen, I didn't expect to find you here. Arthur said you were in bed." His voice was the same, exactly the same and it still sent shivers down her spine and made her knees weak. She took a deep breath and summoned an answer and turned to face him-and words slid away like rain off an umbrella. Not that they had umbrellas here. She stared, grasping for words and he closed the door behind him with the scraping of stone.

"I, uh, I.was restless. I wanted to see." she stopped, gesturing towards the window behind her with one hand.

"Of course, I should have remembered. You never miss u-him leaving," Lancelot said softly. Buffy considered telling him that no, she never missed them, and then realized that she really didn't know what she usually did. She'd just had this feeling, as if she should see them going. Just in case they didn't come back.

She couldn't even imagine never seeing Riley, or Arthur again.

Of course, she had never imagined living without Angel either.

"How are you?" he asked softly, taking a step forward and then stopping abruptly. Buffy managed a smile.

"I'm fine. Really. My sense of direction seems a little off. This really is quite a big castle, isn't it?" she asked lightly. He smiled, then looked away like he should feel guilty. She frowned. He glanced back, at her tightly clothed legs and the snug shirt. She was used to wearing skimpier clothing, but for some reason when he raised his eyes to her face and raised an eyebrow, she blushed.

"I didn't feel like wearing something bulky," she muttered. He smiled again and they stepped towards each other again. She could almost feel his body heat, even though they were still over three feet apart. She wasn't used to him having body heat. It was amazingly distracting.

"Tell me.about the campaign. What is Arthur's plan?" she asked, trying to keep her mind off the fact that he was human, and here, and by the look in his eyes just as in love with her as his vampire counterpart in her time or universe or whatever it was in relation with where she was now.

"It's relatively simple," Lancelot said, looking glad for the distraction. He leaned against the stone wall and Buffy sat down in the chair. He started explaining battle strategies, and she understood most of it, since it was pretty similar to the strategies Giles tried to drill into her, just on a much larger scale.

He finished and their eyes met. "Are you worried about him?" he asked softly.

"It sounds like a sound strategy," she replied evasively. She was worried, but it still didn't seem real. She couldn't imagine anyone that much like Riley in a battle, killing people. Of course, she'd seen Riley give a mean speech, and he regularly kicked ass in debates. In her world, those were kinds of battles. She glanced up at him, realizing something suddenly. "Don't worry Lance. He'll be all right without you. Though I still don't think I need protection!"

When had she first not thought she needed protection? Yeesh, she didn't even know what she was saying anymore!

"You know he would never forgive himself if anything happened to you," Lancelot said softly, standing away from the wall and walking towards her. Her eyes followed his until he stood right above her and she found herself pulling him down to kneel before her.

"And you? What would you do?" Buffy asked softly, having already heard the answer in his voice, and a thousand times in another life. His eyes were so dark, the tortured beauty she knew so well clear in them. His voice was husky when he replied, and her heart eclipsed itself.

"I would hunt down those who hurt you, and I would kill them all. But it wouldn't matter, because I would be dead. My soul would be gone forever."

And despite everything, despite all the promises she had made to Riley (and Arthur) and to herself, she bent her head and found his lips, drinking in the sweetness of his mouth, the first oasis she had found in two years of living in the desert.

It would have been so easy to let go. For a moment, she did just that - she let go. Let go of the confusion, the fear, and the reality that this wasn't her Angel. It was a relief just to be held and comforted (it had been so long since he'd kissed her. . .) For a moment she was safe, and loved, and that was enough. . . for a moment. . .

And than the moment was gone, and it wasn't enough anymore. This man, this human man with her beloved's eyes and smile and touch - this was not the one she loved. The one she loved was cold beneath her hands, and never stood in the light of the sun, and never laid hands on her anymore.

This was not the man she loved.

Or was it? Her mind said no, but her heart said yes. And he'd always told her that he would love her in whatever time and place he found her-She pulled away, but not out Lancelot's arms. He would not let her go.

"I'm sorry, Gwen, truly I am," he said softly, his voice low and quick. "I didn't mean to-"

She shook her head. She was so confused. What was happening to her? "I love you, Lance," she heard herself whispering. And it was true - she was a married woman in love with her husband's friend. . .

"No," she protested, pulling away from the confused knight who knelt on the floor, watching her. Hands to her head, she again cried a denial. She was *not* a married woman, she was a college sophomore, and she was not married because the one she wanted would not have her.

Lance was suddenly beside her, cradling her. "Hush, Gwen, 'tis alright. The fall has hurt you worse than I suspected. We must get you back to bed. Curse it, I am a fool."

"I am the fool," Buffy said, and felt a stab of fear go through her, because she was starting to talk like *them* -

"Don't weep, Gwen," Lancelot comforted. "Come, come on, Nimue will heal you." His arms around her, he encouraged her to move. She let him lead her blindly because she couldn't remember the way back to her room and because she could remember it all to well. She was so confused. . .

Nimue was at the door of her rooms. "You fools! Get you inside. Lancelot, lay her on the bed and then for the love of whatever you hold dear get out. The king not even a day gone and you two are already at odds! Aye, there will never be any peace while you all yet live. Go, I say!"

"I'll check on you later," Lancelot whispered as he helped her settle on the bed.

"I love you," Buffy said softly before he released her hands. Whether she spoke to Lancelot or the man he mirrored she wasn't certain. Perhaps it didn't matter.

"And I you," she heard him answer before pulling away and slipping from the chamber. Whoever she had addressed, it was Lancelot who had answered. Angel had not told her he loved her for a long time now.

Nimue dropped her disguise and turned to face her squarely when Lancelot was gone. "What do you think-"

Buffy was across the room in a flash, even before the final words were out of Nimue's mouth; although her strength was not the same, her speed certainly was. So were her hands - she had slipped the short dagger Lancelot carried at his belt out of its sheath as he helped her onto the bed. Now the sharp edge was against Nimue's throat and the sorceresses' back was against the door.

"You listen up, witch. I don't know what your game is, but you're giving me a ticket back to Sunnydale right now, understand. Right *now* - or I'm going to give you a new way to speak with the spirits - first hand experience." Buffy locked eyes with her to show that she was not kidding.

The tip of the knife pricked Nimue's throat.

Part Four

Their eyes battled furiously-green (they were still green, weren't they? She needed a mirror) and pale blue. And then Nimue made a tiny motion with one hand and Buffy found herself frozen, everything except her head. She used the most inventive curse word she had ever heard from Spike and struggled to move, but she was completely locked where she was. Nimue slipped out and away from the door, eyeing Buffy with a delicately arched black brow.

"Let me go!" Buffy shouted, as close to tears as she was to ripping the woman apart. Everything was so strange, and she just wanted to go home, and this woman who had brought her here in the first place had frozen her!

"Do you swear on the Lady you will not attack me again?" Nimue asked, her voice stuck somewhere between icy anger and curiosity.

"I swear," Buffy said through grated teeth. Nimue made the hand motion again and said a word and Buffy could move again. She slumped slightly and began feeling her arms to make sure she was all right. She glanced at the sorceress and reluctantly tucked the dagger into her belt.

"Now what in the Lady's name was that all about?" Nimue demanded. "And what is.Sunnydale?"

"My home!" Buffy shrieked, furious. "You brought me here and everyone's different, and I'm different and I just want to go home!" Yet even as she said the words, she felt Lancelot's arms around her again, his lips on hers and knew that it was not that easy.

"What do you mean? I brought you here? Guinevere, I think you are not well," Nimue said carefully. Buffy shook her head vehemently and backed away from the sorceress.

"No, I am perfectly fine thank you! My name is Buffy Summers and I live in Sunnydale California and it's the year 2001 and I want to go home! You tricked me! You put me to sleep with a rose and then you.you did something to me! You sent me here!"

Nimue was watching her with something akin to awe, and a touch of wariness. "I have no knowledge of such a place, or such a time. The year is 513 by the Roman calendar milady, and you are the High Queen Guinevere, wife of King Arthur Pendragon, the High King of all Britain. You do not remember this?"

Buffy watched her with horror. If Nimue couldn't help her, if she didn't know.then no one could. "How can I remember it? I didn't live it. I'm not Guinevere, and Riley isn't Arthur and Angel isn't Lancelot. And you.you're the same. I thought." She sat down heavily on the bed and fought very hard against tears.

"Who is this Riley?" Nimue asked softly.

"My boyfriend," Buffy replied. She met Nimue's confused stare. "My lover."

"And Angel?"

"He was my lover."

"And why should they be like or unlike to Arthur and Lancelot?" Nimue asked gently, sitting down hesitantly beside Buffy. The Slayer was too busy holding back tears to care.

"Because they look like them, and they act like them, and they feel like them, but they aren't, I know they aren't. Lancelot is human, and Angel.wasn't, exactly. And Arthur has a beard, and he's a king, and warrior, but.How can they exist in two times? How can I?" Buffy stared down at her hands.they were her hands, but they weren't. They were much smoother, much whiter. She wore a plain gold band on one finger, but that was it on the rings.

"I think perhaps I understand, but I'm afraid I know of no way to send you home, if indeed you are right, and you aren't really the queen. I must admit.you look like the queen and sound as she does. It is hard to believe that you are someone else, in truth. And I do not think others will be able to believe so."

"So you don't think I should tell anyone?" Buffy asked softly, glancing at the other young woman. Nimue should her head, her coiled black braids shaking.

"No, I do not. Perhaps.perhaps we shall find a way to send you home. Or perhaps we shall not. You must learn to live here, as Guinevere. I shall help you, have you any need of it. You seemed to know people." The statement was as much a question as to how she knew them.

"I just do.I don't know how. I look at people and their name kind of comes to me.like if I think hard enough about where I want to go, I know how to get there. It's kind of freaksome." She noticed Nimue giving her a look and shrugged. "Weird. It's kind of weird. Sorry."

"You must try not to speak so," the sorceress said. Buffy nodded. She looked back down at her hands, then then back to Nimue.

"In my time, all of you are people of legends. I mean, there's like millions of books and movies about King Arthur and his round table. My best friend Willow is reading a book about it now.she's a witch. She's.Morgaine looks a lot like her."

"A legend." Nimue breathed, then made a sound close to a laugh. "What do they say of us?" Buffy looked over and tried to remember where she'd heard the name. Nimue.in the park, the night before she'd been sent back her, Willow had been talking about her.

"You.you are in love with Merlin." The young woman looked decidedly startled at that.

"Either you speak the truth, or you have learned how to scry Gwen," she said after a moment, still looking rather startled.

"I am telling the truth!" Buffy exclaimed indignantly, then stopped. "What's.scree?" Nimue laughed.

"Scry. It's when you look for things, or people in water, or in glass," she explained. "If you know that I love Merlin, what else do you know?" Buffy's mouth firmed, and she wondered if she should tell the young woman that someday she would be the death-or near-death anyway-of the man she loved.

"Nothing really," she lied. "I didn't read the book myself, just heard my friend talking about it."

"So you do not know what becomes of us all?" Nimue asked. Buffy looked away.

"Everyone knows that," she said quietly.

"What is it then?" Buffy looked back to the beautiful young woman beside her, who 1500 years later had looked at her with such tragic, old eyes.

"You don't want to know," Buffy promised quietly. Nimue held her gaze, searching for something, and then nodded.

"I don't suppose I do." There was a long moment of silence as Buffy wondered how she'd managed to be stuck here, of all places. She didn't remember details, but she did remember that Nimue imprisoned her own lover, Guinevere was either burned alive or banished, and Arthur and Lancelot were both dead by the end of the story.

"I couldn't be sent back to Cinderella," Buffy muttered under her breath. Nimue looked at her, confused and Buffy smiled. "It doesn't matter. So, since I seem to be stuck here, do you want to show me around? And tell me how to walk in those dresses?"

**

"You're sure the doctor said there's nothing wrong with her?" Xander asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Obviously there's something wrong with her, Xander, she's out cold in a hospital bed," Cordelia snapped, tired of listening to him, tired of being worried over the one person that was supposed to be able to take care of herself. . .

The group sat scattered around Giles' living room, perched on the arms of chairs, reclining on the floor, straddling bar stools. A few lamps drove away the darkness, but nothing could stem off the tension that thickened the air. They were all stressed and it was definitely starting to show. Cordelia kept going to the bathroom to check her makeup. Xander was running out of his endless supply of dumb jokes. Willow was staring out the window, her eyes unfocused, gazing at something no one else could see; Oz sat beside her holding her hand, a deep frown on his normally calm face. Giles was slipping alcohol into his tea; he thought no one had noticed. Even Angel was cracking, though perhaps only Buffy would have seen the shadows passing through his eyes or the way his fists were clenched so tightly that they were white.

This was awful, absolutely awful. Buffy laying unconscious in a cold room, the doctors unable to help her, her friends powerless - This was Faith all over again. The waiting, the not knowing, the helplessness. But there were people who cared about Buffy, people who would give their lives in an instant to protect her. No one had cared when Faith died.

Except Buffy. Buffy had cared. It was Buffy who had made the funeral arrangements, Buffy who had seen that flowers were planted over her grave, Buffy who had refused to let her name be slandered, although it was perhaps she who help the greatest right to slander it. Only Buffy had cared.

Perhaps that in itself was significant.

The knock on the door startled them all. They stared at the door for a moment, no one making a move, until the knock came again, louder, and Giles went to answer it.

Riley stood in the doorway looking grim and determined, his shoulders stiff, his hands held straight at his sides. His eyes quickly scanned the room, briefly meeting the gazes of the people within. "I knew you'd be here," he said quietly, a note of accusation in his voice.

"C-come in," Giles answered quickly, too quickly, giving away his guilt.

The tall man entered, glanced around for a place to sit down, chose instead to remain standing. "I know you all care about Buffy. Well, so do I. You should have included me if you were trying to think of ways to help her." His voice was so calm, so controlled, that only Angel noticed the emotions flashing across his eyes.

And Angel remained silent, offering him no encouragement.

Willow shifted in her chair. "Riley, I'm sorry -"

"It doesn't matter," Riley interrupted, raising a hand. "What matters is that Buffy's hurt and that some strange woman had something to do with it. The woman I saw tonight when I found Buffy - she was in my apartment last night. I should have known then that something was wrong, once she started talking about Buffy -"

"The woman," Angel interrupted suddenly. "What did she look like?"

Riley slanted him a look. "Short. Black haired. Youngish -"

Angel put a hand to his forehead. "Blue eyes."

"Yes." Not only Riley was looking at Angel now.

"She was in my home, too." The vampire stood up and walked towards the door. "On the same night, around the same time."

"Where are you going?" Giles asked.

"Back to the hospital," Angel answered, opening the door. "We may be dealing with an assassin."

"Wouldn't Buffy already be dead by now if that was true?" Cordelia asked. "You could already be too late."

"Thank you, miss optimistic," Xander snapped.

"You guys stay here and see what you can find on supernatural suppression of consciousness," Angel said, ignoring Cordelia's outburst. His eyes shifted to Riley and just as quickly shifted away. "I'll take care of Buffy."

The implication was clear - that he could watch over the Slayer better than her boyfriend could. His words hung in the air even after the door was shut behind him.

*****

He slipped past the security guards easily, and skated around the nurses' station when a code red suddenly drew them all away from their paperwork. Really, the monitoring system for Sunnydale General was far too lax. That was good for him - but bad for Buffy.

She was laying just the way he had left her. The monitors attested to her heartbeat, proclaiming that she yet lived, although that and the steady drawing of breath were all that showed her body retained some spark of life.

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. How many times had he made that same gesture? Too often to count. She didn't answer it with a smile this time.

Damn, it wasn't supposed to be like this. She was tough, strong - she had lived through too much to be here like this. And so had he - he had also made choices less wise than true in order that she might live and flourish.

In the semi-darkness he reached out and took her hand. Softly, oh so softly, he began to speak.

"Do you remember last Thanksgiving, Buffy? Not the one that just passed, but the one before that. The one where I came back to Sunnydale without telling you. Remember? Then you showed up at the office - you were so angry with me." He paused, waited to see if she would miraculously make some response. After a moment he cleared his throat and continued. "But then that Morsa demon came through the window, and for a moment you weren't angry anymore. You were startled - so was I, to be honest. But then I killed it - and you walked away. I heard the door shut behind you; you didn't even say goodbye. Guess I know where you learned that."

Again he paused, this time to bring her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. "What I - what I never told you was that things didn't turn out like that the first time. The first time, the demon escaped, and we tracked it down. Funny thing about Morsa demons, their blood has healing properties. Even for vampires." He laughed shortly. "I killed it - or thought I killed it - and its blood made me human. It's confusing, I know. Believe me, I know. But it was wonderful, like a dream. We were together and happy and everything was perfect. Or it was at first, anyway, until I realized that everything has a price, and your life was what our happiness would cost. And I couldn't pay it. I couldn't pay it," he repeated softly, and fell silent.

After a while he shook his head. "You would have done it in an instant. But by the time I told you, it was too late. I planned it like that. I knew that if came to a battle of wills between us that I would lose. But in those last seconds before time began again, you forgave me. You forgave me. And you promised that you would never forget. You promised, Buffy, that you would never forget that perfect time we shared. You promised." He held her hand a bit more tightly, leaned a little lower. "Remember, Buffy. Just for a moment, remember. Remember what it was like to be kissed in the sun, how it felt to listen to my heartbeat, what it did to you when you realized there wasn't any more time for us. Remember how much I loved you. Please, Buffy, please. Remember."

*****

She sat bolt upright in bed, her breath caught in her throat. "I remember," she sobbed, tears coursing down her face. "Angel, I remember."

Gradually the tears slowed, her breathing returned to normal. She glanced around, confused. Where was Angel? He had been here not a moment before, hadn't he? He had, she knew he had. And then her eyes adjusted to the light and she realized that she was alone and always had been.

She was here in this strange place where she'd been for nearly a week, here in this strange land where she didn't look like herself and no one called her by her real name. What was she doing here? She didn't know, but that other life, the one where a vampire named Angel begged her to remember some half-forgotten dream - that life was slowly slipping away from her. And oh, she didn't want to let it go. She wanted to remember.

She laid herself back down eventually, and it was only when she felt the dampened pillow that she realized that she had begun to weep again.

**

Her nose wasn't right. It just.wasn't. She still looked basically the same.but her nose wasn't right. And her hair was a darker honey gold than it should be. And much longer.

Buffy set down the tiny mirror with a sigh. These people needed to get real mirrors, and modern appliances. And heat. She shivered, setting her feet down on the cold stone. No wonder they wore so many clothes. She stepped into silk slippers and left her bedroom, slipping out into the halls. For a beautiful (well, what they considered beautiful, which was a whole lot cooler than what she considered beautiful) autumn day, there weren't many people around. Nimue explained that a lot of the servants had gone with the king, which Buffy found odd. They were going to war with servants?

She stilled, thinking of Arthur-or Riley-in war. Her heart chilled. Angel she trusted to take care of himself, but Riley.They aren't the same, she reminded herself, thinking again of her reflection. She shook the thought off and kept walking, going down a large set of stairs, through several halls and then down more stairs before finally emerging in the gardens.

How did she know where the gardens were? This whole knowing-things-she-didn't-know thing was getting old.

A startled gardener fled as she approached. The grounds were beautiful. There was a big fountain in the middle, a labyrinth nearby, lots of carefully tended flowers and an arbor. For a moment Buffy could almost forget the fact she was in a huge fortress 1400 years before she was born.

Almost.

It was kind of chilly, and Buffy shivered, wondering what they used for coats. Or if they used anything. She wandered down the paths, past the fountain and into the arbor, where the trees were edged with reds and golds.

And then she saw him and stopped.

He looked up, as if sensing her there and met her eyes. She managed a smile. "Hello," she said softly. He smiled back.

"Good afternoon Gwen. What are you doing out here?" he asked. She shrugged and sat down next to him on the bench, belatedly remembering the way Nimue had shown her to sit, which was much more proper. She decided she didn't care.

"Taking a walk. Don't tell me you're brooding again," she said before she could stop herself. It was Angel that brooded, not Lancelot. But his mouth twitched upwards in that familiar half-smile.

"You've found me out," he teased. She grinned, her hands twitching with the need to trace those lips, to push that unruly lock of hair back from his eyes. She clenched them in her skirt.

"And what, sir knight, might you be brooding about?" she asked lightly. His eyes darkened suddenly and she looked up, cursing herself for stupidity. "Lance, I-"

"It's all right," he said softly. "How do you feel?" She frowned and glanced back at him, wondering if Nimue had told him anything, then remembered the supposed fall from the horse.

"Fine and dandy thank you very much!" she said quickly, then winced at the confused look on his face.

"Fine and dandy?" he asked, a touch of humor in his voice.

"It's uh.an expression," Buffy said lamely. His mouth twitched upwards again. She grinned. "There, I got you to stop brooding!"

"Only you can Gwen," he laughed, then went still, looking at her with that soft sweetness in his eyes that made her melt every time. This time was no exception.

Every time? she wondered. Stop thinking he's Angel. He isn't.

But he was. Or he was the closest thing to it.

"Of course," she said, trying to dispell the silence between them. "It's my perogative as queen."

"Of course," he agreed, looking away, as if he was trying very hard not to do something.

Buffy thought she could probably guess what that was, since she was trying very hard herself. Think married, she told herself. Think Arthur. Think High Queen.

"Oh, I forgot, I was supposed to survey the kitchen!" Buffy exclaimed, the thought of her queen status bringing the obligation to mind. Lancelot smiled.

"Are you sure you're all right? Forgetting things now?"

"I'm fine!" she said tartly, standing up. "Now are you going to escort me or aren't you?"

He stood up with a smile and offered her his arm.

Okay, so maybe there were things to like too.

**

After that afternoon in the garden Buffy spent most of her time in Lance's company; whether surveying the kitchens, strolling along the ramparts, putting time in at court, or simply sitting before the fire at eveningtime, the two were seldom apart. At first they made excuses for their togetherness - Buffy would find herself looking for reasons to search him out and ask a question or two; he would come to her claiming that a messenger had told him he was needed. This went on for a spell until one morning Lancelot was caught in his own excuse, and had to confess that he'd come of his own will.

"Must I have a reason to share your presence?" he asked her, only half mockingly.

Buffy had looked at him for a moment , then shifted her eyes away. "You mean an acceptable reason," she said quietly. "One that's logical and practical, one that's unquestionable."

No messengers had come from Riley's - Arthur's - forces for over a week.

He reached out and turned her face to look at him. Their eyes met and they were silent for a long time. "This cannot be anything," he said, probably more to himself than to her. "We should -"

"-Just walk away," she finished, knowing what he'd say because she'd heard the words from him before.

No, not from him - from Angel.

Did it matter who'd said them? Not to her. Whatever her name, whatever his, it all came down to the same thing, and if she was never going home, then what did it matter.....

And so day passed into day and night turned into night, and Buffy felt herself being sewn ever more tightly into the fabric of this life. At first it was hard, harder than anything she'd ever done, to separate her experiences, her memories, her very self into two parts - the part called Buffy, who was in college and single and slayed evil creatures, and the part called Guinevere, who lived in a castle and was married and ruled over a kingdom. But Nimue, the one Buffy still held responsible for being in this mess, was at the same time a priceless help in dealing with the situation. With tireless patience she explained to Buffy how to behave in court, how to conduct herself when reviewing the castle's servants, and a thousand other little points that would have made Buffy's life difficult if she'd had to cope with them on her own. For her part, Buffy urged Nimue to spend more time with Merlin, for the sorceress was terribly in love with him, although she tried not to let it show. The two began to share much time together, and soon the court members noticed that the queen was always in the presence of the sorceress or the knight or both.

*****

It was evening. In the queen's chambers, Buffy and Lancelot were finishing the last of their supper. The fire on the hearth drove the darkness away but created odd shadows, and as Buffy sat across from Lancelot, some of the shadows fell on his face. She studied them for a long time, wondering why she felt an odd emptiness within herself as she saw how his eyes were dark as if with secrets and his skin was pale as if with death.

"Gwen, what is it?" Lancelot asked, wiping his hands on an embroidered napkin. "You look as if Satan himself crossed your path."

Buffy stood up from the table, moved away from it to stand before the small window and stare into the darkness. Her own face looked back at her, but - was that really how she looked? Dark honey colored hair, almost blue eyes - something was wrong -

Lancelot's chair scraped across the floor as he roughly pushed it back. "Gwen, what's wrong?" he asked as he reached her. "Tell me."

Buffy put her face in her hands. "My name is Buffy, Buffy Summers," she said, a panicked note in her voice. "I live in Sunnydale. My mother works in an art gallery, my father lives in L.A. I'm a junior at UC Sunnydale. I'm dating Riley -" She looked up at Lancelot with tears in her eyes. "It's the year 2001. Your name is Angel, and you don't love me anymore."

Lancelot shook his head in confusion. "Gwen, what are you saying?"

"It's true!" she cried. "You left me. And - and you're with a woman named Kate and you won't even look me in the eye and say you don't love her."

He caught her by the shoulders and gently shook her. "Stop, Gwen! Stop it. I'll get Nimue -"

"I hate you," she cried, pulling away from him. "I hate you for telling me it was forever and then for leaving. Do you know what it did to me? Do you know what it's like to hear a song on the radio and start to cry in the middle of a group of people and not care? Do you know what it's like to wait day after day for a phone call and finally wake up one morning and realize it's never going to come? Do you know what it's like to watch the person you love most in the whole world turn their back on you and walk away and know that he's never, never going to come back?" She looked at him blindly, tears pouring down her face, and added very softly, very calmly, "You broke my heart."

He pulled her into his arms, held her as if at any moment she might slip away. "Ah, Gwen, I'm sorry," he murmured. "I - I had to go. It was for you that I did it. And Elaine was nothing. Just some woman that reminded me so much of you. But I never loved her -" He pushed her away just far enough that he could meet her eyes. "I never loved her. Not like I love you."

The memories were swirling around in her head so fast that she couldn't separate them from each other. Nothing was right or true anymore, and she was frightened and confused and so lonely......

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He reached for the first button on the back of her dress.

**

There was pain on her face, but happiness as well. Such joy.Nimue stroked a bit of pale blond hair out of Buffy's still face, and wondered what had put the joy there. Which one was it, Arthur, or Lancelot? Did it even matter? There was no other woman in the world who could have such joy of two different men, and yet have it she did.

Nimue's heart ached for her.

"Oh, I didn't realize-" a voice said from the doorway. Nimue turned to see him, and her heart froze, seeing again the last moment, the look in his eyes as she sealed him away for a thousand thousand years.

But there he was, standing there, not knowing her.

"I was just checking on her," Nimue said, holding to her guise of nurse. He looked tired, and rumpled, and heartsore. His eyes narrowed behind those wire-rimmed glasses, seeing something in her face. Their eyes met.

"You," he whispered. "You're the one that did this to her."

Which was true, though he knew not what he spoke of.

"Aye," she said softly. "It is for the best."

"For the best?" he snapped. "Tell me what you did! Bring her back!" Nimue's mouth formed into a thin resolute line despite the desperate wanting to touch his face, his hair, to tell him everything.

"I cannot. Not yet. The queen-Buffy-has not learned yet."

"Learned what? What did you do to her?" he demanded, his voice harsh and angry. She flinched slightly from it, but held herself tall.

"It is hers to tell if she will. When she comes back."

"She will come back?"

"She will." Nimue's gaze strayed to the small, pale girl lying still in the bed. "When she has learned, I will bring her back."

"Where is she?" he asked, his pain and worry evident even in the quiet question.

"In the saddest story ever told," Nimue replied, then looked up at him and smiled softly. "You always loved her as a child. Good night Rupert." And then she walked past him, walked away though her heart screamed at it. She had waited a millenia for this man, watched and prayed and searched. And she walked past him, because it was not time yet. Because the Queen must learn.

**

His mouth was so sweet, and his hands, his beautiful hands were so sure, so gentle, and she tried to think of Riley, of Arthur, of anything, but he was human, and she loved him.

And then the memories came.

They wove themselves around her, around him, as he carried her to the bed and after.and she stopped knowing, at some point, whether the man she touched was Lancelot du Lac or a memory of Angel that she didn't remember, that didn't even exist. She called Lancelot's name once, but later, as settled into his arms, drifting somewhere between the comfort of love, the knowledge of betrayal, and the confusion of memories she didn't have, she whispered another name, and fell into dreamless sleep. And Lancelot, who was Angel, the greatest knight to ever live, a Warrior for the Light, held her tightly in his arms and wept for the joy that came through betrayal, for the name she had whispered that he did not know.

Go to Part Five