Part 16

" Damn, damn, damn," Kate Lockley slapped the wheel with her flat hand and stared out into the dark. "They just disappeared. How on earth can a man just take a woman from a parking space and vanish with her into thin air?"

"I wish I knew," Doyle sighed beside her, sipping from the strong tripple espresso he was holding. He knew this was going to be a long night. Kate had driven her car to the side because they'd ran out of ideas.

"What the hell are we supposed to tell Angel when he wakes up?," she said, but it wasn't directed at anyone. The same moment the speaker in her car buzzed.

"Detective Lockley?," came a male voice through the aether.

"Captain," she replied. "Any news?"

"I'm afraid not," he sighed loudly. "There's absolutely nothing. Not one damn hint. By the way I've dismissed Harrington from active duty for two weeks."

"Good," Kate glanced at Doyle. Tim Harrington had been responsible for Buffy's security that night. "Well, thanks then, captain."

"We're going to find them, Lockley," he said, but she heard the doubt in his voice.

"Yeah," not that she was more optimistic. "Later, captain." She leaned back and for a long while stared at her hands. "She could be dead already, you know that."

A breath came out of Doyle's mouth in a big whoosh. "Yeah, I know. But I refuse to think into that direction. We need to think positive."

"I know," Kate shook her head, "but I've seen his work with my own hands - several times. He's cruel, without mercy."

"But then there's still the chance he'll be different with her. After all she's been his real target all the time," Doyle mused.

"Let's hope you are right, God Doyle, all we can do is hope that you're alright."

****

Buffy woke slowly. She groaned when she started opening her eyes. There was a bright light in the room. An unfamiliar room. The whole furniture was a desk, two chairs and one bed she found herself lying on. She tried to move and found her legs and arms bound, her shoulders already hurting from the fact that her hands were tied to her back.

She had never been in that room, she was sure of it. She had a pounding headache and closed her lids against the bright light. The last thing she remembered was someone pressing a tissue on her face and then ... nothing. Just plain nothing. Angel had been kissing her and ... oh God, Angel! Where was he? How was he? Was he hurt? Or even ... no, her mind refused to finish that thought. He had to be well. He just had to.

She tried to shift her body to see more of her sourroundings. There was a bag standing beside the door. And shoes. A man's shoes. And then it hit her.

The Killer!

This had to be the man follwing her, observing her, calling her ... she felt cold sweat on her forehead and between her shoulder-blades, while her heart pounded a frantic rhythm in her chest. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

"Hi, Buffy."

Her heart almost stopped beating for a moment and her head snapped around. Her eyes instantly widened, "P... Paul?"

"Yes, it's me," a smile played around his lips as he approached the bed. "You seem surprised." When she didn't say anything, he continued, "You're afraid, aren't you?" He reached out to touch her cheek and when she tried to avoid him, he grabbed her hair and pulled her head roughly towards him, "Don't do this," he warned. "You are in my power now, Buffy. Do what I want and nothing will happen to you."

"And you expect me to believe you. You killed eight women already," she hissed, glad that her voice didn't tremble with the fear she felt to her bones.

"Ah, but they all were just substitutes," he said, his voice soft, oh so soft. It made Buffy shudder in disgust. "Because you wouldn't give me as much as a thought. You only thought about screwing that husband of yours, didn't you?" He was angry now and again pulled at her hair. "Didn't you?," he growled.

"You're hurting me," she told him, feeling her courage slip, because suddenly she'd thought about the baby she was carrying and the thought it might get hurt scared her more than anything. She couldn't endanger it.

He didn't loosen his grip, "You hurt me too. Not with your hands of course, but with the way you were neglecting me. Treating me like a bug."

"Tha ... thats not true," she stuttered, desperately trying to blink tears away that threatened in her eyes. "Please," she whispered hoarsly and finally he let her go.

"Well, we will continue this later on. I have to go now. I'll be back later. Don't try to run away," he said with a pointed look at her bound hands and legs. When he finally left the room he laughed. Buffy had never felt so helpless before. She was afraid, for Angel, for herself and for the baby inside of her. Paul Cook ... oh God, who would've thought. They didn't have a clue. And he was completely mad. The way he had looked at her, his eyes glittering with insanity.

She shuddered again. You have to be strong, she told herself. They will look for you. They will come and save you. I just have to hold on, we both have to. Supressing the despair she felt creeping up her spine, she took a deep breath and tried to imagine she was lying at a beach with Angel by her side.

*****

"How is he?," Cordelia caught the arm of the doctor who was about to pass her in rush.

"Are you family?," he asked.

"Uh ... his sister," she lied.

"Well, Mr. Finnegan has a severe concussion. He needs to rest. And we'll be keeping him for three days at least. He has to stay in a darkened room and sleep a lot. You can go and see him now. But only for ten minutes." And with this he rushed to the next emergency, leaving Cordelia to stare after him. How on earth was she going to explain to Angel that he should stay in bed, especially as his wife was still missing.

*****

The buzzer began to sum again and Kate's and Doyle's heads simultaneously snapped up, "Detective Lockely?"

"Garreth, is that you?," she asked.

"Yeah," Garreth Williams replied. He was a young police officer, one of them left to search the parking space. "Detective, we finally found something."

"You did?," she straightened up in her seat, instantly alert.

"Uh-huh. Seems our killer wasn't as careful as he used to be. He lost ring. We already checked it and it doesn't belong to Mr. or Mrs. Finnegan. Of course it could've been there longer, but we don't believe it."

"Why?," Kate asked.

"Because of the inscription. It says 'For Buffy. In Love - Paul.'"

"God, that guy is even sicker than we thought," the blonde police officer groaned.

"It seems," Garreth agreed. "Does the name Paul tell you anything?," he asked.

"No, but I'll try to find out what it means. Thanks for the quick call Garreth."

"You're always welcome," he said and the the line went off.

"Any idea in hearing the name?," Kate asked turning to Doyle.

"Not really," he replied thoughtfully, "Paul ... Paul ...no," he shook his head in disbelief, "that couldn't be, could it?"

"What?," she urgently grabbed his arm. "Tell me!"

"They have a neightbour. Buffy and Angel have a neighbour. His name is Paul Cook," he told her. "But I can't believe ... altought," he paused for a moment. "One day Angel said he'd been making moves on Buffy..." he trailed off giving Kate a pointed look. "We will find out soon," she said and started the car.

"Don't we need a search warrant?," he asked.

"We'll get it while we drive," she replied and pulled out her cell phone.

*

They arrived the apartment house in record time and fortunately Doyle had been too anxious to get there to think about the way the police officer drove the car. She drove like a maniac, organising a search warrant while she was doing this, the way she'd promised before. When she shut down the phone, she explained, "Judge Michaels and I go way back. We were close for a while until I found out he was married. Maybe because of it he's eager to help where he can. There we are."

The car came to a screetching halt and they jumped out of it, Kate reaching for her gun while running towards the elevator. "You take the stairs, Doyle. We'll meet upstairs."

She was already waiting in front of the apartment door when he reached her, pulling out his gun as well. She raised her brow but didn't comment it. Then she rang the bell. When nothing happened, she said, "Mr. Cook. This is the L.A. police department. We have a search warrant for your apartment. Please open the door."

"Seems there's nobody at home," Doyle said after a while. Kate nodded and  stepped back. Then her foot shot out and the door gave way.  

 Part 17

Kate and Doyle hurried down the hallways of the hospital until they had reached Angel's room. "You go," the police officer told the Irishman. "It's your wife and your best friend in there. Go, tell them."

"I doubt Angel is up yet," Doyle replied, "Or we wouldn't stand in front of his room. I guarantee that the moment he awakes is the moment he's going to walk out of here."

Kate sighed and nodded, "You're probably right. Maybe we just go together. If he wakes up...," she trailed off giving him a pointed look.

"He's going to kill us, you know that."

"No," she said drily. "He's going to kill me. After all I was the one who told the doctor to use a tranquilizer on him to keep him in bed for at least one night." With another sigh, deeper this time, she pushed the door open.

There was only a dim light in the room and the saw Cordelia sitting on a chair where she'd obviously fallen asleep. She stirred instantly when they entered and blinked. "Oh, hi," she whispered and looked at Angel who was still out cold. "Anything new?"

Doyle walked over and kneeled down beside her, "How are you feeling?," he asked.

"A bit tired, and worried of course, but I'm fine," she nodded reassuringly. "Now tell me. Did you find anything?"

"We did," Kate replied and turned her head towards the sleeping PI who just began to stirr.

"Uh ... uh, he's waking up," Cordelia yawned, then stood and cautiously approached the bed. "Angel?"

"Cor ... Cordelia?," his voice was loaded with sleep and a bit slurred. Opening his eyes he looked around, "Where ... oh God, Buffy," he sat up quickly only to hold his head between his hands as the world began to spin again. "God, I feel horrible. What happened? What about Buffy?" His concerned gaze wandered over the faces of his friends.

"You called me last night, do you remember that?," Kate asked.

"Yeah," he replied and winced when he tried to nod.

"Someone must have hit you on your head or more precisely ...," she paused for a moment, then taking a deep breath continued, "It was the man who took Buffy. The killer."

"Oh God," Angel burried his face in his hands for a moment, then his head snapped up, "I need to get out of here ... I ...," he suddenly stared at Kate, "They gave me something," his voice was a dangerous growl now. "You!," he almost shouted and winced again as the pounding in his head intensified.

"Angel," she sat down beside him, "there was no way you could have gone searching for her last night. You had ... have ... a serious concussion and you needed at least one night of sleep." "The hell I needed it," he shouted and looked at Doyle, "get me my pants and my shirt. I need to go."

"Listen," Kate took his arm and he impatiently shook her hand off. "Angel," she touched him again and this time - maybe because of the urgency in her voice - he turned to her.

"What?," he snapped.

"The killer. We know who he is."

"What?," Cordelia and Angel asked simultaneously.

"It's your neighbour," Doyle told them. "Paul Cook."

"Paul Co ...," the other man shook his head as if he had to clear his mind first before he could continue, "Oh God, and I never had an idea. I saw him almost each day," he ran a hand through his hair. "All the time he was close to her and now..," his voice broke and he closed his eyes for a moment. "How do you know?," he asked then, barely managing to stay calm.

"We found a ring at the parking space with his and ... and Buffy's name on it."

"Oh God," Angel groaned. "He must be completely insane. Go on!"

"Doyle and I went to his apartment and," she had to take a deep breath. What they'd found there - to their disappointment - hadn't been Buffy, but it had made her sick to the bone. "He has made a shrine for her. He has pictures of her. There's a room," she shook her head. "You can look yourself if you want. And he's kept pictures of his other victims. He even photographed them when they were already dead."

"This guy is so sick," Cordelia shuddered visibly. "And to think he's got Buffy now...," she trailed off, realising her slip the minute it was out of her mouth. "Angel I..."

"No," he held up his hand. "You did the right thing. I need to get out of here now. Doyle, my pants please and Cordy, Kate, could you wait outside for a moment?"

*****

"Any trace in the apartment where he might be?," Angel asked when they were finally sitting in Kate's car. The police officer pulled it out of the parking space and looked at him.

"No, not really," she sadly shook her head, "do you want to go there now?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "maybe we'll find something, anything. But first," he glanced at Cordelia on the back seat, "we need to get her home. She is pregnant and needs some rest." His thoughts instantly went to another preganat woman and he had to close his eyes for a moment to prevent himself to fall apart. Not now, he told himself, you cannot let go now. She needs you, this isn't time and place for self-pity.

"I don't need to...," the brunette tried to protest, but was cut off by her husband.

"The hell you don't," he said. "Angel is right. I get you home and then'll join you again." Suddenly he remembered something,  "We also need to inform Buffy's parents."

"Oh God," all colour drained from Angel's face, "Joyce and Giles have no idea ... how am I going to tell them?"

"You won't. I'm going. I need to get Camille anyway," the Irishman told him.

"No," his friend shook his head. "She's my wife. Kate, could you go to Buffy's parents first. We can get Camille and I'm going to tell him."

"Are you sure?," she asked.

"Positive," he replied. "Let's go." He glanced at his watch, "It's after eight already, I'm sure they're up."

*****

"My poor baby," Joyce sat at her kitchen table, her teary eyes on Angel. When they'd arrived at her home, they had only found Mrs. Giles and Camille. Giles was at work and Steven gone to school. "Mommy, is aunt Joyce sad?," Camille who was sitting on Cordelia's lap watched the scenery with big eyes.

"Yes, dearie," the brunette replied. "She's worried because aunt Buffy is not there."

"Where is aunt Buffy?," the girl wanted to know.

"We don't know sweetie," her father answered and stroked his daughter's head. He could understand very well what was going on in Mrs. Giles' head.

"Joyce," Angel reached out and covered her hand with his. "I'm so sorry, I ..."

"It wasn't your fault," she said, turned her hand and squeezed his.

"I should've paid attention," he insisted. "We were too careless and ...

"That's nonsense," Cordelia's angry voice sounded in the kitchen. "If anyone is to blame for this it's this stupid police officer who didn't do his job."

"She's right," Kate agreed. "And it doesn't really matter now. The only thing important is to find her. And fast."

****

Numb arms and hands and a searing pain in her shoulders were the first things Buffy felt when she woke up again. The bright light was still hurting her eyes but this time she instantly realised she wasn't alone. Paul Cook was sitting on a chair at the table and had obviously fallen asleep. His face was relaxed and almost soft like this. It was hard to believe that this man had killed eight women and held her prisoner. But then he was insane and these people rarely showed their true face.

Why hadn't he tried to kill her, she wondered? Why had he brought her to a room? What did he intend to do? She remembered that all the other women had been raped before he'd killed them and she shuddered at the thought that he might do it to her as well. She felt her mouth go dry and closed her eyes to block out the images that formed in her head.

Should she tell him that she was pregnant? Would it change anything? But no, she'd seen his face and by no means he would let her go now. Her only chance was escape or hope that Angel would find her. Opening her eyes again she dared to look around and noticed that the bottle he'd been probably drinking from had fallen off the table, the broken pieces scattered allover the floor. If she'd be able to ... she had to try, for her sake, for the baby, for Angel, she had to try and so she cautiously shifted on the bed, ignoring the pain in her shoulders. When her fingers were only inches away Paul suddenly stirred 

 Part 18

"I've seen a lot during my time as a PI but this...," Angel shook his head and leaned his back against the wall in Paul's apartment. He and Kate had arrived five minutes before and now they were standing in the room that Paul had transformed into something like a shrine. There were hundreds of pictures of Buffy at the wall, Paul must have followed her for quite some time. He had even spent time on a computer and made some with him and her on them, positioned like a couple. Angel had to fight the nausea settling in his stomach.

And then there were the photos of the women he'd killed. It showed that Paul Cook was truly insane. He'd obviously savoured to see their frightened eyes, their panic ... Angel turned and left the room, not able to stand looking at this any longer. How sick had person to be to enjoy something like that? To enjoy other people's fear.

"Angel?," Kate's voice interrupted his thoughts. "What do you think?"

"What I think?," he snapped. "I think this guy needs to be put away for a long time," he ran a hand through his hair and gave her an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't want to take this out on you, it's just..."

She walked over to him and put a hand on his arm, "I understand. There's no need to apologize. I even admire you for keeping up like this. I would probably freak out."

"No, you wouldn't," he gave her a small smile. "You would do the same as I, what needs to be done."

"Yes, probably," she agreed after a moment of hesitation, but she knew he was right. She would do what had to be done, she was too much a police officer to fall apart in any situation, but she knew she would be shaken to the bone and so she squeezed his arm for a moment before letting go. "Now, again, what do you think?"

Angel shook his head, "I don't know. Truth is, I have no damn idea. God, this guy is so sick, how can anyone of us have any idea what's going on in his head?"

"I called the shrink on our way to the hospital," Kate told him. "She said, he's obsesses with Buffy," she rolled her eyes, "as if we didn't know that already. But anyway. She also said that he won't kill her, not now. He has waited so long to get to her, he will try to keep her for a while to make up for lost time or so to say."

"And that's supposed to make me feel batter?," he shot her a look. "Did you forget what he did to the other women?"

"No," she took a deep breath, "I didn't. But Angel, it means also that she's almost certainly alive."

"Almost isn't good enough, Kate. And the mere thought he might ... he could ... he probably ...," his voice broke and a visible shudder ran through his body. He desperately tried to block out the images that began to form in his head. But it didn't work. They flashed before his inner eye like parts of a bad movie. One horror scenario after the other. "God, Kate," he groaned. "Where is she?," he asked desperately, "Where is she?"

*****

Buffy froze instantly when she heard him shift his head on his arm. Her eyes darted to his sleeping form and when she realised he hadn't been waking up she released the breath she'd been holding.

Shifting her back over the bed she finally streched her numb fingers and tried to reach one of the glass pieces. It was difficult without feeling anything, but finally she managed to pick one of them. As silent as possible she shifted her body into its former position on the bed and slowly tried to cut her bonds.

*****

The noise of a ringing phone shattered the silence that had settled over Paul's apartment. "Yeah," Kate answered.

"It's Garreth again. There's some news."

"Spill."

"Our search told us that this Cook-guy has a little cabin north of the city at a little lake, he uses for holidays."

"Where?," she asked, suddenly excited. This was a trace, the first real trace. A cabin, somewhere in the wilderness, hadn't the shrink said something about the possiblitly that he'd be trying to hide her away?

"Hold on," Garreth searched through some papers on his desk, spilling a half-filled cup of cold coffee over some others. He was dead tired and had - like most of his collegues - spent the night at the police station. Swearing silently he finally found what he was searching for and said, "Do you have pen and paper, Detective? I'll give you directions."

"Yes, spill it," she replied and began to scribble everything down. "Alright, I've got it. Thanks. You're great." She shut down the phone and gazed at Angel who was looking at her expectantly. "Let's go. Garreth gave me an adress, a little cabin, Paul Cook owns. It would be perfect for him. The county sheriff has been informed. They'll be probably there before us."

Without a word Angel turned and together they headed for the car.

*****

Buffy bit her lower lip and suppressed a cry of pain that was forming in her throat when the bonds gave way and the blood was pumping back into her hands. She shifted her shoulders and bit down even harder. God, her shoulders, arms and hands hurt. Slowly, carefully she wriggled her fingers, her eyes never leaving Paul's form at the table as she did so. He mustn't know she was free. Free, what a joke, her hands were free, yes, but her legs were still bound and she didn't want to risk him finding her cutting through the bonds and of course she was still in a small room with a madman who probably wanted to rape and finally kill her ... and all because of some twisted love he believed to feel for her.

So she just shifted her arms into a more comfortable position and tried to think of a way out of this mess.

*****

"If you drive any faster, we're never going to get to this cabin in one piece," Doyle muttered from the back seat. They'd stopped by his house to pick him up as it was on their way.

"I just hope the sheriff and his men out there are capable of handling a kidnapping," Kate said ignoring the Irishman's comment. "The last we need now is some idiotic county sheriff who wants to become a hero by capturing a wanted killer."

"Oh that's really encouraging," Angel replied sarcastically.

"Sorry," Kate shrugged, "but I had my share of experience with people like that. They mostly spend their time writing tickets for fast drivers."

"Next turn left," Doyle said. "Maybe someone else could direct her," he suggested, "then at least I could close my eyes and pretend we're not driving like maniacs."

"Shut up, Doyle," Kate shot him a look through the rear mirror. "I'm a police officer. Besides race car drivers we're the best car drivers on this planet. I'm used to driving fast."

"There's fast and there's crazy," he muttered, but didn't comment any further. He could see the tension on Angel's face and decided he probably wasn't in the mood for these things.

"She'll be alright," Kate tried to assure the man who was sitting beside her. He hadn't said a lot since they'd left the L.A. city limits, but she had noticed the tension in his body and the slight trembling of his hands. He was on the edge and Kate couldn't blame him.

"Yeah," he replied through gritted teeth, a frown appearing on his forehead when they finally reached the forrest where the cabin was meant to be. "I hope you're right," he said after a while. "I hope to God you're right."

*****

She needed to free her legs, Buffy had decided after some minutes. There was no way around it. She had no chance to escape as long as her legs were tightly bound. And it would need some more minutes to get the feeling in them back. So her eyes on Paul's form she carefully shifted her legs, flexed her knees and moved her feet towards her hands. Then she slowly began to scratch them with the glass fragment. There was only slow progress and when the bonds finally gave way after minutes that had been like an eternity for her, she heard the sirens of police cars. 

 Part 19

Paul Cook came awake like a launched rocket. He'd heard the police sirens as well and his eyes wildly darted towards the door. "What the hell...," he swore and moved to the window that was closed with heavy curtains. He almost couldn't believe his eyes when he saw three county police cars approaching his cabin in the forrest. How had they found out about it he wondered. He was so concentrated on what was happening out there that he completely forgot about his captive not that he thought about watching her anyway. She was tightly bound after all. So it was a more than a surprise for him when something hard connected with his head and he stumbled to the ground.

*****

"These idiots," Kate hissed, when they heard the sounds of police sirens. "Why not call him first?"

"Kate?," Doyle asked from the back seat, at the same time squeezing Angel's shoulder. He was tense like a bow.

"Forget it," the police officer replied and drove the car around the last corner. The cabin and the police cars came in sight. And then suddenly there was something else. Someone was leaving the house and it wasn't Paul Cook. Kate could hear the sharp intake of breath beside her and she got the car to a screetiching halt.

Even before the car had truly stopped Angel was out of it ignoring the angry shouts of the police officers around him, his eyes focussed only on one person. She was pale, but God, she was alive. She was alive!

The cry that tore from his throat was only one word and Kate spontaneously reached out for Doyle's arm when she heard it. "Buffy!"

*

Buffy stumbled out of the door on wobbely legs, still almost without feeling, and stared at the police cars in front of the cabin. Suddenly she heard it. She heard someone calling her name, and she knew she'd recognize this voice everywhere.

And then she was in his arms, felt his lips on her face, felt him pressing her against him, heard him repeat her name like a prayer of thanks. They were tumbling to the ground, kneeling in the dirt, but never letting go of each other. "Buffy," he whispered again and took her head between his large hands. "Oh God," he choked and she could see tears running down his cheeks. "We found you, God, we found you." He pressed her to his body again, stroking her back and she clung to him, sobbing, stroking, whispering.

"I'm okay," she told him, "I'm okay," she repeated noticing the trembling of his body. "Everything is okay."

"I almost lost you," he said with a trembling voice. Then suddenly he pulled back and his hands began to search her body for injuries. Both were completely unaware of the fact that the police had entered the cabin and that Paul Cook had been led to one of the police cars, his eyes full of hatred in seeing the couple reunited.

"Did he hurt you," Angel wanted to know in an urgent voice. "Did that bastard hurt you?"

"No," she assured him and took his head between her hands. "He didn't hurt me, Angel. Not in any way." Their eyes met and the silent message passed between them. He closed his eyes for a moment and released a breath, fighting with new tears, tears of relief as the tension slowly left his body. She stroked his cheek. "He just bound me and deposed me on a bed. There was no time for him to hurt me." She looked up when she saw Kate and Doyle coming towards them. "Hi," she greeted them with a half-smile.

"Hi Buffy," Kate kneeled down beside them. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nodded and tried a half-smile, then looked back into Angel's eyes who were watching her all the time. "Yes. I'm okay." Kate and Doyle exchanged a glance of their own. "I'm going to call 'Delia and your parents," the Irishman told Buffy. "They need to know."

Slowly Angel stood and held his hand out for Buffy who came to stand on still unsure feet. When she stumbled he instantly caught her and then just scooped in his arms. "Hey, I can walk," she protested, but liked to feel secure and loved again.

"Let me hold you," he whispered hoarsly, "I almost lost you, just let me hold you."

She stroked the back of his neck while he was carrying her to Kate's car. At half distance the sheriff stopped them. "Sir, Miss, I need to talk to you. We have to do a protocol ..."

"Screw your damned protocol," Angel almost shouted, "my wife barely escaped from an insane killer who's already murdered eight innocent women. Your protocol will wait until tomorrow."

"I have to insist...," the sheriff started again, but was cut off.

"No," Angel shook his head and tightened his hold on Buffy, "There won't be any interrogation today. My wife needs to rest now. End of discussion." And with this he just continued to walk to the car. The sheriff started after him when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Let him go," Kate said quietly but there was a warning in her voice. "They just went through hell. I will do the stuff tomorrow and send you a copy." He was about to protest and so she decided to make herself clear, "Look, my friend, this woman was captured and held prisoner by a freak, her husband was hit on the head and still suffers from a severe concussion. If you're not going to back away I will feel the urgent need to report that you approached the place of a kidnapping with the sirens on." She raised a brow when she saw him swallow - hard. "Did I make myself clear?"

"Very clear," he nodded, then turned and walked over to his men.

Kate nodded at Doyle who grinned. Unable to suppress her own grin the two of them followed the couple.

****

"You look tired," Buffy said gazing into Angel's eyes.

"I'm alright. It wasn't me who was kidnapped and abused by a maniac," he replied stroking her cheek.

"He sure looks tired," Kate said from the driver's seat. "But regarding the fact that he's got a severe concussion he does quite well."

"A concussion," Buffy gasped and her eyes were roaming her husband's form who shot the police officer an angry look. "You should be in bed," she scolded gently.

"Kate's exaggerating as always," Angel said, sending Doyle a glance that dared him to object.

"He's got a head as hard as a rock," the Irishman said promptly. "Nothing can damage it for good."

"Do you have a headache?," Buffy asked.

"I'm okay," he repeated his words from before. "Now, I'm truly okay," he added and planted a kiss on her mouth. He was sitting on the backseat, his wife securely in his lap, his one arm gently draped around her back the other lying protectively over her front, the hand stroking her stomach.

"I called your mom and Delia," Doyle said after a moment. "They're all happy and relieved of course. Your mom wanted you to come home, but I could convince her that you two need some privacy now."

"Thanks," Buffy gave him a grateful smile. "How did you find out where I was?," she suddenly wanted to know.

"Police work," Kate said with a shrug. "Despite all rumors the police is very thorough. A friend of mine crosschecked several possiblities and then found about that cabin. But we were not sure you'd be there."

"I had no idea where I was," the younger blond leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. "He said that the others were just substitutes. God, he's really insane."

"Yes, he is," Kate agreed. "And he will be locked away for a very long time. Hopefully forever."

"To think that he was so normal," Angel shook his head, "I mean I didn't like him, I didn't like how he looked at Buffy although knowing she was married. But I would've never thought...," he trailed off.

"The really freaking part is, you could meet some Paul Cook every day without knowing it. I wonder if I'm going to suspect people all the time now."

"You won't Doyle," Kate glanced shortly at him. "But you lost your innocence. You all did," she sighed. "I lost mine long ago. You know what I mean. Up to a certain point in your life you're suggesting the unknown stranger across the street is perfectly innocent. If something like this," she glanced at Buffy and Angel through the rear mirror, "happens it just stops. You watch people more closely and you believe people are capable of horrible crimes."

"This is so creepy," Doyle shuddered.

There was a moment of silence when Buffy suddenly said, "Could we probably go to a hospital?," she asked.

"Hospital?," Angel was instantly alert. His hands were checking her body. "I thought you said ... nevermind, where do you hurt?," he looked at her in concern.

She locked her eyes with him, "Angel, I'm bleeding."

"Bleeding?," his hands began to wander again, checking for scratches, for wounds. "I can't find anything, Buffy, I know you're scared and probably ..."

"No," she gently removed his hands, but he could see the fear in her eyes and instantly felt the panic crawl up his spine. "Angel, I'm bleeding vaginally." 

 Part 20

God, how he hated hospitals. He hadn't been there very often himself and all the times he remembered friends or family being there had been emergencies. The night Sarah had been killed, the other night when Buffy had been stabbed, the Christmas Eve his sister had gone into early labour. He drew a shaky breath, clearly remembering the evening when he'd been called about Buffy and then the doctor had told him about her having lost the baby.

Angel closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall. He'd left the waiting room some minutes ago, not able to be around his friends and Buffy's parents any longer. Their concerned glances, their teary gazes ... it was more he could bear at the moment.

It had started to rain outside and Angel looked beyond his own reflection in the window out into the dark night. Buffy had disappeared behind the door of the emergency room over two hours ago and there hadn't been any news and slowly, very slowly he was going insane. Quietly, unvisibly but still as surely insane. His gut had turned into a knot the size of a basketball.

The fear in Buffy's eyes when she'd told him about her bleeding vaginally. Angel ran a shaky hand through his hair. The panic had set in instantly and powerfully. No, not again, his whole being had cried out. Oh God, please no. They had been clinging to each other on the back seat while Kate had broken all speed limits of the state California. Angel had kept touching his wife all the time, her hair, her pale cheeks, her throat and he had gently kissed her worried eyes. They hadn't spoken one word on their way to the hospital. Their locked eyes sending any message necessary. There was fear. Fear to go through that nightmare again after all they'd been through already.

At the entrance of the ER she was whisked away on a gurney. Admitting her to the hospital had been an endless procedure or questions and forms to be filled out. Once it was done, Angel went back to the ER where the OB had asked questions relating to her being held captive. The first 'Do you know if she's been raped?' almost drove him over the edge. Struggling to keep himself under control he remembered her words that Paul Cook hadn't hurt her and so he shook his head 'No'. The doctor had then patted his arm and smiled, 'I'm sure she'll be alright, Mr. Finnegan.' 'What about the baby?', he'd asked. 'I'll let you know.'

That had been more than two hours ago and still the doctor hadn't come back. What the hell was taking him so long? Had the bleeding been more dangerous after all? Had they rushed her into surgery? Was now even her life in danger as the child's?

"No," Angel moaned and started hearing his own voice in the empty hallway. God, please, God, don't do that to her. Not again. She's gone through so much already. Hearing a noise from the elevator he turned his head only to see Georgie run towards him. Panting heavily she stopped only one foot away and looked into his face.

"Angel," she looked at him.

"What are you doing here?," he asked and felt instantly stupid for doing so. She was his sister, she loved him and she was there to help him. But he couldn't let go right now. He needed to keep himself up, for Buffy, for ...

"What happened? Cordelia said something about kidnapping, about a stalker, I didn't even know about it."

He took a deep breath, "Someone was calling her, sending her letters, taking photgraphs ... we found out it was the same man who'd been killing eight women of her type before. Last night he surprised us in front of a club. We both were joking, not paying attention. He hit me and took her ... we found her some hours ago and it seemed as if she'd not been hurt but then she suddenly realised she was bleeding vaginally."

Georgie's hand flew to her mouth, "Oh no." She swallowed, "Do you ... do you know anything?"

"No," he shook his head and turned away, not able to face her anymore. "They put her on a gurney over two hours ago and ...," his voice broke. His whole body tensed when he felt his sister's arms circling his waist from behind, her chest leaning against his back. "Don't you need to be at home?," he asked. "Who's taking care of Daniel?"

She wasn't about to let him retreat from her, "Gavin is at home of course. Don't do this, Angel. Don't pull away." She managed to wriggle herself around his body so that she finally stood in front of him and looked up in his face. "You can lean on me a little bit tonight. You let me lean on you countless times when I was a girl, when I was a teenager, now I'm here for you. If you want."

"I...," he hesitated, "... God, Georgie," it finally came out of him. "How are we supposed to handle losing another child? What if she's hurt badly? What if ...," he tightened his hold on his sister and she stroked his back.

"Shhh," she made, "it'll be alright. Angel, Buffy is strong. You don't know if she's going to lose the baby, but even if she does... you both went through this once, you'll do it again." They just held each other like that for a while until the shudders in his body subsided and he became calmer. Finally he pulled back. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome," she gave him a quick smile. "That's what family is for. We're together in this. Buffy is part of our family." She stopped and then tilted her head, "Talking about family. Where are her parents, her brother?"

"The waiting room," he replied nodding down the hallway. "I just couldn't stand it in there anymore."

"I understand," she said softly, squeezing his arm. "I'm just going to say hello and will be right back."

"You don't need to hurry for my sake," he told her.

"But for my sake I do," she replied and walked off.

Looking at her retrieving form Angel couldn't help but smile. She was still his stubborn little sister. She was married and had a kid of her own, but nothing would ever change Georgie.

A door opened and he whirled around. At the end of the corridor he could see the OB coming from the emergency room. Angel began to move, his long strides eating up the distance between them. "How is she?," he asked hoarsly before the doctor had any chance to speak.

"She's going to be fine," the doctor replied with a nod at Joyce who was coming up behind Angel. And before anyone could ask, he added, "And so is the baby. Maybe from the stress a vaginal blood vessel burst. This happens sometimes during early stages of pregnancy. It wasn't dangerous and it wasn't much bleeding at all. But of course it frightened your wife."

"So they're both alright?," Angel asked in a whisper, not really able to process the news. He glanced at Joyce who had taken his arm.

"Yes, as I already said. We've cauterized the vessel and I just did an ultrasound to see if the baby was doing fine. It does. The fetus isn't affected in any way." He glanced over his shoulder towards the ER. "Your wife has been relocated to her room. It's 222. You can go and see her now. I would recommend a few days of rest, but after that she'll be as good as new."

Angel mumbled his thanks and with a smile the doctor left. Angel's friends and family sourrounded him in the hallway, but he couldn't talk to them now. Sending them an apologetic glanzes he hurried away to the only person he wanted to be with right now. In front of the room he paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he pushed the door open.

She turned her head when he entered the room and in the dim light he could still see traces of the fearful last hours on her face, but she was smiling now when she saw him. "Angel," she motioned him to come closer and he sat down on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his.

"How are you?," he asked softly.

"Much better now." The smile grew radiant when she added, "We both are much better."

"Buffy," he choked out and kissed the back of her hand. "Oh my Darling, waiting out there, not knowing ...," his voice broke and he pulled her close, burrying his head in her hair. "I love you," he mumbled. "I love you so much."

"I know," she replied and stroked his head. "I was so afraid," she admitted. "I was so afraid I was going to lose this child too."

"Me too," he said and looked at her again, cupping her head in his hands. "I thought I was going insane out there. I couldn't even stand to be with your parents or our friends anymore. So I left to be on my own. Still it didn't really help until Georgie came. She just held me and seemed to know what I needed."

"They're all out there?," she asked incredolously.

"Oh yeah," he smiled for the first time. "The whole bunch. Kate, Doyle, Cordelia, your parents, your brother, Camille, even Willow and Oz who have been with your mother when Doyle called her. And Georgie of course."

"Wow," was all she could say at that. "It's as if I'm the Queen of England."

"You're certainly more important to me," he said honestly and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "You must be tired, love."

"I am," she admitted on a sigh.

"Do you want me to send them away?," he asked with a concerned look in his eyes. "I don't want you to exhaust yourself. For a pregnant woman you had enough exitement to last for some months."

"I really could do with some sleep," she agreed. "But I want to see Mom and Giles. Could you tell them to come in. But please don't go. Please stay for a while."

"I'll stay as long as you want me," he said and kissed her again. 

 Epilogue

6 1/2 months later

"Angel?"

"Mmmph."

"Angel!," Buffy repeated and gently shook his shoulder.

"W... what," he mumbled in his pillow and opened one eye to glance at the clock on the nightstand. "Buffy," he groaned. "It's in the middle of the night. Go back to sleep."

She had to giggle at his attitude. Waking him up from fitful slumber was a guarantee to get aquainted to a grumpy husbamd. Still, "Darling, I know you hate to get up in the middle of the night, but my contractions are only ten minutes apart now and maybe we should go to the hospital."

"Mmmmph ... WHAT?!" He bolted upright in his bed and reached for the light. Staring at her with wide, panicking eyes his gaze roamed her body, "B... but it's too early," he stuttered.

She smiled and touched his cheek, "Only two weeks and early or not, Junior Finnegan has decided it's time."

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?," he asked while getting up and hastily dressing himself.

She shrugged, "There was no need. It's still time with the contractions ten minutes apart but I thought we'll better be on the safe side."

"Oh, my love," he sat down beside her on the bed and put his hand on her swollen abdomen. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she assured him, "we're both fiiii...., uh, uh, ooooh," she clenched her teeth and gripped his hand, squeezing it hard. After some seconds she was able to relax again, "Wow, that was stronger than before. We better get going."

*

Buffy smiled at her husband who hadn't left her side since they'd arrived at the hospital two hours ago. She was exhausted and sweaty, her contractions came more often now and since ten minutes the doctor and a nurse had joined them in the delivery room.

"Okay, Buffy," doctor Maggie Lowell gave her a smile. "At the next contraction you'll start to push."

"Push?," the blond groaned, "I already feel as if I've run the Boston marathon."

Dr. Lowell grinned, "I have four kids of my own, don't expect pity from me."

"Oh great," Buffy rolled her eyes, "that's really what I need right now."

The nurse and Maggie Lowell laughed while Angel was watching his wife with concerned eyes. God, she was so delicate, so fragile. "I'm here love."

"I know," she gave him a smile. "I ... ooooh ... ohhh Goooooooood," she screamed when the next contraction hit her. Whoever said a birth was something sacred hadn't experienced one himself. Probably a man, no, only a man, Buffy decided, could talk like this.

"Push, Buffy," the nurse ordered. "Push."

"I am pushing," the blond hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're doing great," Angel told her and kissed her hand. "Just a little bit more, love."

"More!," she echoed. "Do you want to change places, huh?," she snapped.

Dr. Lowell laughed at Angel's shocked expression, "Just ignore her. That's nothing special during labor."

He gave her a tight smile, but turned back to his wife who was breathing hard.

"Alright, Buffy," Maggie Lowell looked at the exhausted woman before her, "that was great. Next time you try a little bit harder. I can already see the head. It'll soon be over. Soon you'll know what you're going to have."

"Uh-huh," the blond nodded exchanging a glance with Angel and giving him an apologetic smile. "We'll see our baby soon," she said and he leaned towards her and kissed her sweaty forehead.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know, and I'm sooooooooooooo ... uh ... uh," she groaned.

"Push, ... that's great ... come on Buffy, push", the nurse ordered, "yes, there's the head. Just a little bit more. One last push, Buffy."

"Uuuuuuh," the blond groaned again and clenched her teeth, gripping Angel's hand so hard that he thought she'd broken all his fingers. God, how could she stand this, it was tearing him apart to see her like this. No more children, he vowed, one was enough. At least for some years.

"That's it, there," the nurse grinned from ear to ear. "It's a little boy," she told them.

"Oh, Angel," Buffy had tears in her eyes, "we have a boy. Our son."

"I know my love," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

"Now, Angel, do you want to cut the cord?," Maggie Lowell asked and handed him the scissors.

"Me?," he was a bit nervous but took the scissors nevertheless. Dr. Lowell showed him how to do it and the moment the cut was done the baby began to cry.

*

"Look at him, Angel, isn't he wonderful?," Buffy asked while the baby was greedily sucking at her breasts.

"He is, you both are," he replied with awe in his voice. Buffy with their child in her arms was the most beautiful picture he could imagine.

"I think Rogan is going to fit," she said after a moment.

"I'm only glad you didn't name him Angel," he smiled and kissed the baby's skull.

"I like the name," she looked at him and grinned. "It's very unusual and it fits you."

He groaned, "Sure. Thanks."

"Oh honey," she had to laugh at his expression. "But I can understand that it was hard to live with it as a child. But Rogan is a lovely name and it's your middle name. I always wanted to name my first son after his father ... and I did."

"Aren't you tired?," he asked after a while.

"A little bit," she admitted and stiffled a yawn. "All the family and friends were a bit exhausting, but it's great to know they all care."

"My mom and dad will be coming tomorrow," he told her. "They send you their love and they can't wait to see their new grand-child." He laughed, "I think mom wanted to strangle the travel agent when he told her the earliest possible flight would be tomorrow morning."

"I bet," she grinned, then looked at her son who had fallen asleep with her nipple still in his mouth. "Angel, could you take him?," she asked.

"Sure," he reached out and gently took his son from his mother's breast. The infant didn't stirr, just continued slumbering in his father's arms while Buffy closed her nightgown.

"I can't wait to go home with him. Dr. Lowell said if everything is alright we can go tomorrow afternoon."

"Just take it easy," he told her. "He gave you a hard time, I know it, I was there." He kissed the baby again, "Eight pounds, five ounces. Not really a light weight."

"No," she agreed. "But he's healthy and we're going to make sure he'll always be a happy baby and child."

"That we'll take care of." Carefully he placed the baby in his crib the nurse had moved to Buffy's room. Then he came back to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Are you really okay," he asked and stroked her cheek.

"Yes. I feel great, just a bit tired. But I've never been so happy in my life."

"Me neither," he said and kissed her hand. "I love you. Both of you."

"Me too," she replied her eyes already closing. "Stay?," she asked.

"I will," he whispered and watched her sighing contently. "My love."

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