Part 9

Giles looked up from the book he'd been reading for the last two hours, a disturbing writing about gypsy-courses and gypsy-magic, when the library doors swung open. Usually he wouldn't have cared. Pupils and teachers happened to come into the library, and they usually announced when they needed his help. But because it wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning, it was somewhat surprising to hear the door open.

“I should have forced you to leave last night.”

Miss Calender was standing before him, her expression disapproving, her hands firmly planted at her hips, she was dressed in a yellow blouse and a beige mini-skirt, both hugging her slim figure perfectly. Giles had to swallow before his upbringing kicked in and he remembered his manners. “Jenny,” he stood, swallowed again.

“Good morning, Rupert.” Her gaze swept over his dishevelled hair, his rumpled clothes, his red-rimmed eyes, “You look terrible.”

He grimaced, self-consciously running a hand trough his hair, making it stand up even more, “I ... uh ... didn't expect you.”

Jenny sighed, “Yes, I can see that.” She reached for the book lying open on the table, “The secrets of the gypsies?”, and looked at him quizzically, “I thought we came to the conclusion that the original curse had nothing to do with Angel's soul this time?”

He stared at her for a moment as if he hadn't heard a word she'd been saying, then suddenly pulled off his glasses, agitatedly rubbing them with the hem of his shirt. “Yes, yes, I know. It's just that ...,” he paused, put his glasses back on, “I can see what this is doing to Buffy. I never thought ...,” he trailed off, picked up the book, turned towards the stacks.

Miss Calender looked at the tense set of his shoulders, the stiff way he was moving, “You're tired, Rupert. You shouldn't do this. You're not eighteen anymore. Your body needs sleep.”

“Oh thank you so much,” came his sarcastic reply from behind the shelves, “I always dreamt about beautiful women telling me I was old.”

It was only a casual remark, but her heart suddenly beat furiously in her chest, and her voice hitched when she asked, “You think I'm beautiful?”

He returned from the stacks, walked into his office, a puzzled expression in his eyes, “Of course, that was never a question.” Again, running a hand through his hair, Giles glanced at the clock, “Talking about sleepless nights. What are you doing here so early?”

She had to clear her throat, finding it difficult to get her mind back on track, “Uhm ... I thought I'd hit the internet for a while. Computers usually work better in the morning. Not as much traffic, you know.”

“Oh,” he nodded, returning from his office “well, I don't want to keep you. We need all information we can get. I will try to find something in here,” he held up the watcher's diary he'd been looking for. “That's the watcher who was in charge of the Slayer the year Angel's soul was returned for the first time. I cannot believe I missed this.” He shook his head, angry at his own lapse.

Jenny tried not to be hurt by his obvious dismissal, but she couldn't help but feel a painful twist in her gut. He was sitting again, his head buried into the journal, he seemed to have already forgotten about her. And although she knew that he was merely concerned about Buffy, a girl he was responsible for, his Slayer, her heart was heavy when she turned and left the library.

*****

Buffy leaned against the side of the shower, warm water running over her bare skin, her head pounding as if she was nursing a class A hangover. Not that she really knew a hangover. She had never had one, but feeling as if someone was hammering inside her head, this had to be was what a hangover felt like.

It was all Angel's fault of course.

Her hands clenched into fists, while she shut her eyes, tried to pretend the last night never happened. But unfortunately she couldn't. The night had happened. She had slapped him, had said all those hurtful words about being able to live without him.

She almost laughed out loud, and without warning tears welled up in her eyes, mingling with the water as soon as they escaped from her lids.

Damn the man. How could he even think about leaving Sunnydale? Leaving her? Was he too blind to see that they were meant to be together? She wanted to hit him all over again, instantly hating herself for the thought.

She would never forget the empty, desperate look in his eyes while he'd tried to explain his feelings. His dreams. His fears. And instead of taking him in her arms, she'd freaked. Ran away like a stupid little girl. No wonder he was thinking about leaving her. Why would he want to stay with her? She was behaving like a brat.

The pounding in her head intensified, and, keeping all movement to a minimum, so her head wouldn't explode, she turned off the faucet and wiped the water from her face. She felt like hell, and she'd made a mess of her relationship with Angel last night. Maybe she should just die on the spot and get over with it.

With an inward sigh she managed to drag the towel off the Plexiglas door and made a weak attempt to dry herself, but an acute case of motion sickness had her sitting down on the closed toilet. School was looking less tempting by the minute.

“Buffy, are you still in there? It's getting late.”

Her mom. “I know, I'm coming,” she replied, standing up again. The mirror above the sink was fogged with steam, and Buffy made a swipe to remove it. She wasn't a pretty sight. Her eyes were red-rimmed, puffy from crying the whole night. She had dark smudges underneath, and her wet hair was flattened against her head.

Groaning she leaned her forehead against the mirror. Well, makeup would do the trick, and gritting her teeth, she vowed she'd make it through the day. She wouldn't burden her friends with her problems. They were doing enough already. There was no way she'd drag them into the mess that was her love-life.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the blues was gone and replaced by determination. She was the Slayer after all. She would live through this.

Even if it killed her.

*****

“So what does it say?” Xander stared expectantly at the computer screen where Willow was busy scrolling down the pages of the site she'd just found on the net.

Not taking her eyes from the text, she raised a brow, “Maybe if you hadn't flunked French you'd know.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, maybe. But I think it's not the time to discuss my efforts at school.”

“Efforts?”

“Alright,” he crossed his arms, “What's this? I thought we were trying to find a way to help Buffy and Angel, and all of a sudden this is about me?”

She grinned, “I really like the sudden change in your attitude towards Buffy and Angel. Given time you and he might be bestest buds.”

He straightened, “WHOA! Slow down, will you. I never said something about being his bud. I still hate the guy. He's a pain in the but. This is about the Buffster.”

“Sure.” Willow stifled a laugh the last possible moment. Xander was so predictable. It was cute.

“I'm not gonna change my attitude. It's just …,” he trailed off, sunk back in his chair.

Willow shook her head and sighed. Xander would always be Xander. She didn't love him less because of it, maybe it was part of the reason she'd always liked him so much, had once even believed herself in love with him. She shook her head again. Those thoughts wouldn't lead anywhere. “It says something about gypsy magic. About hidden meanings, unexpected outcome.”

“Bingo!,” Xander shouted, almost falling off his chair.

“Don't get your hopes too high. Just because I found a new site doesn't mean ...,” she trailed off, a frown appearing on her forehead. “Hey ... this is interesting.”

“What?,” he asked excitedly, “What?”

“It says that in the middle ages the gypsies used spells to determine the sex of their children.”

“Well, isn't that a cozy picture? Xander and Willow all on their twosome.”

Xander's head snapped around at the sound of the voice, and his eyes fell on Cordelia who was leaning at the door. “Cordy.”

The brunette raised a brow, “Secret meetings in the computer room, tsk, tsk, tsk.” She sighed mockingly, “Willow, Willow.”

Her boyfriend shook his head in irritation, then dismissing her remark, he turned his concentration back at the redhead, her last words just now sinking in. “Wait a moment. Did you just say what I think you said?”

“Wha- what?,” the young witch stammered, her face beet-red, her eyes nervously flickering from Cordelia to Xander and back.

“That they could determine the sex of the children?”

“Uh ...,” Willow managed to shake off her embarrassment, “Yes. Why?”

“Because that's way creepy,” Cordelia replied in Xander's place. “I wonder if there's something those weirdos can't do.”

“Like, say, building something into a curse nobody else can find?,” Willow thought aloud, all business again.

“Nobody can find what?,” came another voice from the doorway.

The redhead peered around Xander's shoulder and her face lit up, “Hey, Buffy.”

“Hey,” the Slayer said, summoning a fake smile of her own. “What's up? Watcha doing here?”

“I think we just found something,” Willow announced excitedly, “This,” she pointed at the screen, “is about curses and stuff. And it might be exactly what we've been looking for.”

Buffy looked at her for a moment, then shrugged, already turning back to the door, “Curses, huh? Well, do what you want. I have to find Giles. I suppose there's real work for me somewhere, not just weird magic, nobody's really interested in.”

The three remaining friends gazed at the now empty doorway, the spot where Buffy'd disappeared a moment ago, and while Willow and Xander exchanged a meaningful glance, a frown appeared on Cordelia's forehead. “What's her deal? I thought she'd jump like crazy, and now she's not even interested? Can I say 'huh'?”

Xander looked at the screen, then at the redhead, “Maybe you should print that out, so Giles can look at it. And Miss Calender.” He stood, walked over to his girlfriend, who still wore an expression as if a ghost had just walked past her, and draped an arm around her shoulder, “And now, if you're really nice,” he grinned when her frown turned into a glare, “But even if you're not, I'm going to explain you what's going on.” *****

Angel groaned, his head feeling like lead on top of his body, his lids so heavy he had problems to lift them at all. The last time he'd felt like this, he'd been heavily drunk the night before. But he knew for sure, he hadn't touched alcohol last night, although he'd felt severely tempted, and as vampires didn't catch colds as a rule, it had to be something entirely different.

“Wakey, wakey.”

The sound of the well known voice and the fact that he couldn't move either his arms or legs left only one possibility.

“I can't believe the bloke's been asleep all the time. How much the hell did you give him?”

“Enough to keep him out for a while.” Another voice intruded Angel's fuzzy mind. “We didn't care for him waking up while we carried him over here. He's strong.”

“Strong, my ass. He's just another vampire,” Spike shouted, the anger clearly audible in his voice.

“Well, you've got him now, boss,” the other voice hissed.

“Yeah,” Spike sighed, “I've got him now.”

“Spike,” Angel said wearily, blinking against the artificial light shining directly into his eyes. “I should have known.” “Why? Because you're so bloody stupid you never saw that blow coming?,” he asked, grinning. “Let me give you an advice, mate. Never let your love-life interfere with business.”

The other vampire closed his eyes for a moment, then, opening them again, he chuckled slightly, “Spike, maybe you need an advice.” He let his eyes trail down the blonde's sitting form, “Because as I see it, your love-life is still non-existent.”

“You-,” Spike started to hiss, but when a feminine hand settled on his shoulder, he calmed instantly.

“Don't let him make you mad, Spike,” Drusilla smiled, the insanity momentarily vanished from her eyes. “He likes to play.” She walked over to the bound vampire, her long, red fingernails trailing over his cheeks, “He always liked to play. Didn't you, Daddy?”

“Don't call me that, Dru. I'm not your daddy. Your father's dead.”

“That's because you killed him,” she replied, lowering to her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “You killed them all. Because,” she turned her head, looked at Spike, “he wanted me just for himself. Just for himself. But then the bad gypsies came and took him away. And now the little girl did the same.”

She let go of Angel, who gazed at her through narrowed eyes, “What are you talking about?,” he demanded.

“Shhhh,” she put a finger on her mouth, giggled like a schoolgirl, her eyes glazing over, “We cannot tell. That's a secret.”

“Dru.” The dark-haired vampire frowned at her. What on earth was she talking about? Maybe she knew things he didn't. Couldn't. She was psychic after all.

She giggled again, started to sing, and knowing she wouldn't be any help now, he turned his head at Spike, “What the hell is going on?,” he demanded.

The blond vampire grinned, “As Dru said before. We're not going to tell. It's going to be a surprise. Just for you.”

“A surprise?” Now why was he so certain he wouldn't like it, Angel thought sarcastically.

“Yeah, a surprise.” Spike chuckled, “You'll see. As soon as our special guest arrives, you'll see.” He whirled his wheelchair away, his laughter sounding through the whole factory.

 Part 10

Giles lifted his head from the book when the words blurred before his eyes. He had a hard time remembering the last time he'd felt so old and useless. With a sigh he shoved the book away, took off his glasses, and stifled a groan of pleasure when he was finally able to rub his burning eyes. He was so tired, he wanted nothing more than sleep for 24 hours straight. But at the same time he was so wired, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew the others felt the same way. Jenny had looked tired this morning, too.

Jenny. Her face appeared before his inner eye.  He knew he'd hurt her this morning. He remembered the pain in her gaze, and hated himself for causing it. She wasn't responsible for the fact that he felt like the greatest failure in the watchers' history right now. But the problem was that she was the embodiment of what had caused the whole mess, and somehow, standing before him, like she had this morning, after a night of fruitless research, he'd felt the urge to show her he hadn't forgiven completely. And of course guilty as she felt, she'd taken the blow without even attempting to defend herself.

Damn

He felt like a slob. As if she wasn't hurt already, guilt weighting heavily on her conscience, deserted by her family and people. Giles sighed loudly. Maybe he could go out, find a puppy and kick it really hard. He sighed wearily, rubbed a hand over his tired face. He should go an find her, apologize, but somehow he couldn't muster the energy. He would talk to her later, make her understand that he wasn't really angry with her, that … he was a stupid idiot who had used her to get rid of his frustration.

“You don't look so good.”

His head came up sharply, startled by the sudden intrusion, he managed a small smile, “Good Morning, Buffy.” He was tempted to tell her that she didn't look so great herself, but doubted it would sit well with her. Besides, he'd already done his fill for a day, he thought regretfully.

“You've been here the whole night?,” she asked, sitting on the edge of the table, her feet dangling in the air.

“Yes. Yes, I've … tried to find something.” He sighed, “But unfortunately …”

“It's okay, Giles,” she said gently. “I know you're doing all you can.”

She sounded almost bored, and he narrowed his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?,” she asked, her face expressionless. “What should be wrong, Giles? No, no, everything's fine. Peachy.”

He gave her another irritated glance, then nodded, “Good, good. How was patrol?”

Something flickered through her eyes at that, but it was gone so quickly, he wasn't sure he'd imagined it.

“Okay. Staked four vamps,” she replied.

“I see,” he nodded again, “Did you see ... Angel?”

Her head snapped around sharply, and for a moment he saw her eyes resting on him speculatively, before her cool demeanor was back in place. “Why do you ask?”

“He wasn't at home, which is highly unlikely regarding the fact he has to avoid sunlight. I thought you might know where he was.”

A frown appeared on her forehead, and she had to swallow, then - almost nervously - licked her lips, “What do you mean … he wasn't at home?”

“I tried to call him. He took several books with him a couple of days ago. I wanted to ask if he found anything,” Giles explained, his eyes never leaving Buffy's face. Something just wasn't right here. She was too cool, too controlled, when he expected her to panic or at least reveal fear for the man she'd come to love. And that she did love Angel Giles didn't doubt for a moment. Not anymore. He might have thought - at first - that it wasn't more than just a wild crush between vampire and Slayer, but over the last months he'd seen that there was a lot more than that.

“So he wasn't home,” she said flippantly, pushing herself off of the table, starting to pace, “So what? It's not a big deal. Angel's old enough. It's not as if we're responsible for him. He can do what he want. If he wants to leave…,” her voice cracked and he saw her blink rapidly, but after a moment she had herself back under control, turned and looked at him, “So can we skip Angel for a while, please? I came to ask if there's something I have to slay?”

Taken aback by her attitude, but more concerned than ever, he had to blink before he could answer. “Slay? Uhm … well, not that I know. I mean there are Spike and Drusilla of course, but they are too dangerous to take them on your own. Maybe you and Angel-”

“Alright,” she cut him off, “nothing to slay then. Does that mean I can have a free afternoon? Maybe a free night?”

“A free night?,” he asked confused.

“Yeah,” she grinned, but it didn't seem genuine. There was something in the depth of her eyes, he couldn't quite grasp. “You know, a night off. I could … date for a change. I'm sure there's some guy who's just dying to go out with me. Or I can just dance.”

“Dance?” He stared at her as if she'd spoken in Swaheli. A date? With some guy? Buffy? Something very odd was going on. “Buffy, is something wrong? Did something happen last night?”

“I already told you, everything's peachy. Well, if you've got nothing for me, I'll go. People to see, stuff to learn.” Waving at him, she was gone before he could say another word.

The swinging doors had barely closed behind her, when Xander, Cordelia, and Willow stormed into the library, successfully drawing Giles' attention their way.

“Giles,” the redhead said breathlessly, beaming as if she'd jus won the lottery. “You won't believe what we found.”

“What Willow found,” Xander cut in, looking proudly at his friend, ignoring the glare he received from his girlfriend.

The young witch smiled at him, “Thanks, Xand. But we actually found it together. I mean, sure, I found it on the net, but Xander hat the idea, and brought the Cheerios and stuff to keep me going.” They exchanged another bright smile, and Giles felt his patience fading. “Yes, well, that is all very interesting. But could you maybe now enlighten me? What did you find?”

“This.” With the one word, Willow held out several sheets for him, obviously a print-out from the computer.

He eyed it sceptically, “And what is 'this'?”

Willow's beam faltered, “That's what we've been looking for. An explanation for what happened to Angel …,” she bit her lower lip, “ well, maybe not exactly, but it does explain a lot. And could help us to understand the whole thing.”

Giles stared at her, not quite able to believe what he'd heard. An explanation? A help to understand? “Good God,” he exclaimed, shaking off his daze, and reaching for the pages. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” the redhead nodded, holding her breath while the watcher was scanning the text. “I … I mean I'm not sure sure, but still …” She shot Xander a nervous glance, but he was looking at Giles as well and didn't see it.

“Willow,” the watcher's voice was filled with awe, “this is … how did you find it?” He looked up, his eyes holding hope for the first time in days.

“Uhm … I … well, I used different search patterns this time. And there it was.”

“God, do you know what that could mean? For Buffy?.” They heard the emotion in Giles' voice and they  gazed at each other, when the watcher suddenly frowned, “Although …,” he looked up at the three teenagers, “Buffy was just here, you know. And she was acting … I don't want to say strange, but it was decidedly untypical for her.”

“I know what you mean. She's beyond weird. When Willow told her about what she'd found, she wasn't interested the tiniest bit.” Cordelia shook her head, “I think that's rude. Okay, that's so very much like her, but still … I mean Willow's supposed to be her friend.” Ignoring the exasperated looks of the others, she went on, “Anyways. But of course that was before Xander told me the whole story about the big Buffy-Angel fight last night.”

“What?” Giles eyes were instantly alert. “What fight? What are you talking about?”

Xander gave his girlfriend a last suffering glance, then shaking his head he turned to Giles, “I was out there last night. In the cemetery. And after staking four vamps, Buffy and Angel got into this big fight.” He told her he was thinking about leaving Sunnydale because of the curse and because he doesn't want to lose his soul again. At first she didn't want to listen but soon they were yelling and …,” he ran a hand through his hair, “Well, it wasn't nice. So I went to Willow and-”

“You went to Willow?,” Cordelia yelped suddenly, “In the middle of the night?”

“Uh … yeah,” he admitted, “But I've been in her bedroom before, lots of times actually. Okay, so that was before the whole I-know-what-I-can-do-with-girls-if-they-are-naked thing, but…,” he trailed off, grinned when the brunette glared at him.

“You think this is funny,” she hissed, grabbing her backpack she'd deposed on the table. “Think again, Harris.” With that she turned and stomped out of the library.

Willow looked after her, open mouthed, “I think she was jealous,” she muttered, not able to believe what she'd just observed.

“Yeah,” Xander agreed, then suddenly his face split into a broad grin, “Yeah.”

“I think,” Giles said thoughtfully, “This was more about trust, than jealousy.”

Xander gave him an annoyed glance, “You really know how to destroy a guy's illusions, don't you?”

“She was hurt because you went to see Willow instead of her,” the watcher said almost in awe. “There might be hope for her after all.”

*****

There were only a few things Angel hated more than being kidnapped and bound. There were things, he was sure, but right now he wasn't able to remember a lot of them. Being kidnapped by Spike and Drusilla, however, was definitely worse.

He could still remember the last time. He would hardly forget the blisters on his chest from the Holy Water she'd poured over his chest, and although the pain had been excruciating, he'd endured it, knowing that somehow she had a right to do it to him. He had, after all, killed her family, driven her insane, and turned her when she'd tried to escape to a convent. That, he had to admit, gave you a right to do many things, and pouring Holy Water over a vampire wasn't the worst he could imagine.

But he would also never forget the way Buffy had come to his rescue. Like an unstoppable force, powerful, determined, and oh so beautiful, and although he'd been barely conscious at the time, he'd admired her nevertheless. To see her fighting Spike, never backing down, the blond vampire flying through the air, never standing a chance against her strength and wrath … if he hadn't been helplessly in love with her already, he would've fallen in love with her that very instant.

Drusilla's singing voice floated at his ear from the other room. She was singing the same song for hours, always repeating the well-known lines, and Angel knew that she'd once again gone to la-la land, where only her confused thoughts were present, where nothing could hurt her, disturb her peace.

A sharp pang of guilt went through him. Once, without his soul, he had thought her beautiful during those periods, her eyes far away, her face relaxed, an unearthly smile on her lips. She was a beautiful woman, had always been, but she had also been confused and frightened by the her gift, the ability to see certain things. She should have been treated with love, understanding, and care. Instead a cruel vampire had used her for his sick mind-games.

Bile rose in his throat  when he thought about the night. The night he'd seen her for the first time. He'd been fascinated by her, had felt something was different, precious. And by the startled and frightened look she'd given him, she'd sensed the difference in him, too. He'd been thrilled by the idea of playing with her, had even admired her for a while, for her beauty if nothing else, but he had never loved her.  Had never been capable of it. Love had been foreign to him, even after the gypsies had returned his soul. He'd been too guilt-ridden to even contemplate a feeling like love.

Only the view of a blond girl on the steps of a highschool in L.A. had made it possible. Her eyes, the light he saw in them that afternoon in the sun, had shifted something inside of him, had brought feelings to the surface, he'd long thought forgotten, feelings he didn't know he had at all.

Love.

It was such a little word, and held such power. Such magnificence. It could change the world, could even make monsters feeling human. He'd lived from the rats in the streets of New York, had been in possession on his soul all along, but it hadn't mattered. Nothing mattered, but the images of death and torture, of blood and pain. How could he be anything but a monster, he who had to avoid the sun, avoided people in fear his hunger might rise, in fear he might snap and do the unforgivable. It was one thing to live with the memories  of an evil demon, enough to know that he'd  been too shallow, too stupid, to question what Darla offered him that night so long ago in Galway. 

He thought about his father, the disappointment in the old man's eyes whenever they fell on his son. He was a failure, nothing else. But instead of showing the world and himself his father was wrong, Liam had taken it as an excuse and fallen even deeper. He'd been a useless drunkard, he'd whored, hadn't cared for anyone but himself. Not that his father had his part of guilt, too, because he had. He'd been unforgiving, not understanding his son, who'd wanted to become an artist and not follow in his father's footsteps. But even though his father had been a hard man, if Angel had learned one thing over the centuries, it was that every person was responsible for his own actions. Meaning he was responsible for his' and nobody else.

Meaning also only he and nobody else  could make amends.

Not that he actually thought the things he'd done were amendable in any way, because they weren't. How could you amend the fact that a family had lost a father, a sister, a mother, or that whole villages had been extinguished by Angelus and Darla? And they hadn't died easy deaths. He and Darla had liked to play, and play with demons always equalled torture. No, there were no amends for his deeds, he couldn't change his past, all he could do was move forward and make it better in the future. Angel was almost startled by the sudden realisation. Had he actually accepted his past? No, that wasn't possible. How could anyone accept a past like his? Nobody would-

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when Buffy's face rose in front of his inner eye, her laugh, her smile, the love shining from her hazel orbs, he remembered the one day when she'd kissed him at the ice rink. She had accepted him, demon and all. She had kissed him, not caring for his contorted features. He could still feel her tongue trailing over his prolonged canines, her fingertips caressing his protruding brows. She had done what he'd failed to do so far. She'd forgiven him.

It was a feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut, and Angel had to take several deep, unnecessary breaths to come to terms with this sudden realisation. In doing what she had Buffy had involuntarily shown him the way to his own salvation, but he'd been too blinded by pain and guilt to see it.

He heard the wheels of Spike's chair before he heard to blond vampire shout at Drusilla to stop her constant singing. She broke off instantly, then started crying instead, accusing Spike of not understanding her. Immediately her lover was at her side, trying to soothe her with whispered promises of a new puppy or a bird. She calmed down after a moment, Spike holding her in his arms, waging her like a child.

Angel blocked out their voices, leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. His sudden realisation had opened a completely new world to him, he felt excited, almost free for the first time in hundred years. For the first time he was actually looking forward to the future. The question was, did he still have one?

Part 11

Jenny hit the 'enter'-button on the keyboard with much more force than necessary, then muttered, “Damn, damn, damn,” when a jarring noise sounded through the empty computer room. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized quickly to the machine knowing very well that the computer didn't really care what she did to it. It was just a dead thing. But dead or no, it still didn't give her the right to mistreat it. It was a dead machine, but it was an expensive one, too, and the school board was already complaining about the lack of money for books. But maybe she should just ruin the damn thing, just to feel guilty for another failure in her life.

She found her vision blurring when tears welled up in her eyes. Jenny blinked rapidly, but wasn't successful in keeping them from falling down her cheeks. Great, just great, she thought, now her makeup would run, and she'd have to go to fix it.  No way she wanted to see anyone, let alone Giles, she was crying her eyes out.

“Oh damn,” she exclaimed loudly, her unseeing gaze still directed at the screen. Why the hell did life have to be so complicated, and why, oh why, did love have to hurt so much? Not just love between man and woman, but love in general. Why was it so hard to deal with disappointment and betrayal?

For a moment she wondered if vampires didn't have the better deal. They didn't care for anything, but feeding and fun. Sure they felt grief, but in the end it was only yourself who counted. Of course that sort of life, if you could even call it one, was incredibly empty. For a human, anyway. What was a life worth if you couldn't feel love, grief, pain? Sure those feeling hurt and could tie your guts into knots, but without them you'd be just a zombie going through the motions.

Although, the way she felt now, even being a zombie held a certain attraction.

She closed her eyes for a moment, wiped them, not caring that her makeup would be smeared all across her face. Who would come and see her, anyway? Giles had made it perfectly clear he didn't want to have her around. He hadn't actually dismissed her, but that didn't mean she hadn't gotten his message loud and clear. And that after his almost casual declaration that he thought her beautiful.

She could still feel her heart beat like a sledgehammer in her chest at his words. Beautiful. He thought she was beautiful. They had made several steps to rebuilt their relationship over the last days, but it had been the first time he'd uttered anything remotely romantic. He'd touched her, yes. In his apartment, when she'd felt his hands on her shoulders, on her arms. The other day he'd been holding her hand. But none of it, neither his actions, nor his words indicated anything but friendship.

Not that she wasn't grateful for it. After what she'd done, the way she'd betrayed his trust, she should be happy he was offering friendship at all. She should be content, he was including her again in the close circle around the Slayer and her vampire boyfriend, but she couldn't. There had been times when she would've been able to step back, but not anymore. Her feelings for him ran too deep already, were too strong, had long overstepped the boundaries of friendship.

The day before Angel had turned into his evil alter ego, they'd been on the brink to a sexual relationship and for Jenny, raised in the traditions of her old clan, this was a big step. For all her modern appearance and her fancy clothes, she was a old-fashioned girl at heart when it came to intimacy and sex. She could count her lovers on one hand, had been at least friends with all of them. Her first had been a boy she'd known since childhood, a man she trusted with her life.

A man who had not hesitated to betray her with the rest of her clan.

The way she had not hesitated to betray Rupert, let alone Buffy and Angel.

Suddenly feeling unsettled, she stood up, walked over to the window, her eyes straying to the yard where usually pupils gathered and chatted. It was deserted at five o'clock in the afternoon, only a few cars were left in the teachers' parking area. She saw Giles' Citroen standing at the end of the row, and a small smile crept across her face. Buffy had once said he needed a grown up car. He'd told her that and chuckled. Jenny didn't share the Slayer's opinion. The car fitted him. It was old-fashioned, reliable, and very sexy.

Something you could fall in love with.

The way she had.

She sighed, rubbed a spot on her forehead where a headache was beginning to form. How could she expect him to forgive her, she wondered? How could she, when she knew first hand what that kind of betrayal did to you? How deeply you could be hurt? Her wounds were still bleeding, probably would so for a long time. How could she expect Rupert's to heal within a few weeks?

The problem was she did expect them to heal. Quickly, without scars. Or at least she had. Until now. Now, this very moment, she understood that it wasn't so easy. That it couldn't be. Trust wasn't something you could win back over night. You had to work for it, to show that you earned it. And that was exactly what she was going to do. Show them that they could count on her, no matter what. And that she had learned from her former mistakes, that she would never betray them again.

With movements that were all but determined she turned back to the desk with the computer sitting on. There had to be something she could do. She walked over, stared at the screen. Then, after taking a deep breath, she sat down again, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Her head was pounding by now, but she ignored it. There were things more important than a simple headache.

*****

The boy lowered his head, his lips finding the girls, and they came together in a long, gentle kiss, when he wrapped his arms around her, their feet moving with the rhythm of the love song on the dance-floor.

Buffy turned her head away abruptly, not able to watch their public display of affection any longer. The way the guy held the girl was like a knife through her already shattered heart, Angel's words about leaving coming back into her mind, and her childish reaction to it.  What if those were the last words they ever said to each other? What if he had left already, gone to locations unknown?

At the thought of never seeing him again, the pain felt like a hot knot in her stomach. She'd thought there was nothing worse than seeing a demon wear your lover's face. But she'd been wrong. There were things worse than that. Like never seeing him again at all.

No!

Denial was instant and sharp. This wasn't going to happen. She would see him again. Then they would talk and …

His image rose before her inner eye. The way his eyes were resting on her, the way they would shine with love and gentleness. There was such pain and grief in his dark orbs, but whenever they fell on her it seemed, if not gone, then at least dimmed. She loved thinking it was her doing, that her presence managed to make the shadows disappear from his soul, to make room for sun and laughter. She liked to think he was happier when she was with him. She loved hearing him laugh, a sound so rare and so precious. He had a wonderful laugh.

Buffy quickly glanced back to the dance-floor where the guy's hands were roaming over the girl's back, drawing patterns over her dress.

She thought about Angel's hands, strong, capable, with long, elegant fingers, one holding a ring, a Claddagh. He'd never taken it off, not even when the soul was gone. She wore the smaller version. It was her most precious piece of jewellery.

She remembered the way his hands had touched her, had made her feel, what they'd done to her body in the name of love. Although she hated to think about the army of lovers he must have had throughout the centuries, she had to admit that an experienced lover was a good thing, especially if the girl was a virgin. She'd heard stories of her friends, about pain and blood, about nothing but disappointment the first time they'd been with a boy.

None of it had happened to her. Angel had been gentle, thoughtful, and not to forget skilful. There hadn't been a  moment of pain. He'd aroused her to the brink of madness and when he'd finally taken her virginity she'd been too far gone to feel anything but passion and rapture. Her first time with a man was something to be treasured and remembered. She wondered how many girls could say the same?

And she remembered the second time they'd made love. Him being a soulless demon, and her … Buffy wasn't sure what exactly it made her. And somehow she didn't really care. After he'd been unconscious she'd taken her time looking at him. His broad, well muscled chest, his slim waist, his powerful legs. She'd touched him everywhere, fascinated, and encouraged by his unconsciousness, that he didn't know what she was doing.

She felt her body quicken in response to the memory and she gulped down the drink in her hand, choking when one of the ice-cubes went down the wrong way.

“Hey, hey.”  Xander's hand came to lay on her back. “Look what I've found here, Will,” he shouted over the loud noise, turning his head towards the redhead who was standing near by. “The Buffster's here.”

“Xand.” She greeted him weakly, not at all feeling fit for company. All she wanted was to be left alone. Although regarding her latest train of thoughts it maybe wasn't the safest thing to do in public. Buffy felt heat creep into her cheeks and was suddenly extremely grateful for the dim light at the Bronze.

“Hey, Buffy.” Willow was a little bit breathless when she came to a halt in front of her friends. Seeing the strain in her friend's face, she beamed overly bright. “Isn't the band great. I think they are great. Don't you think they are great, Xand?”

“Oz is playing,” the boy replied, “Of course you think they are great.”

“Well, sure,” she admitted. “I'm their groupie after all, but … they are great,” she repeated, giving Xander a stern look, then nodded at Buffy when the blond didn't see it.

“Uh … Oh! Yeah. Great. The band is great,” he agreed, beaming as well.

“Guys, is something wrong with you?” Buffy gave her friends a curious glance. “Did you drink coffee again?”

“No,” Willow shook her head emphatically. “I'm living coffee free these days. Oh … look there's Oz.” She turned her head, and then almost casual, she asked, “I … uh … didn't see Angel tonight.”

A frown appeared on the Slayer's face, and she avoided the other girl's eyes. “No. Uh … he's probably busy.”

“Busy?,” Xander shook his head, “Come one. You guys are practically attached at the hip.  As soon as the sun goes down you hardly meet one without the other.” He glanced quickly at Willow, then plunged ahead, “Did something happen? Trouble in paradise?”

At that Buffy's head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing,” Willow chirped. “But Giles told us that he couldn't reach Angel the whole day, and so we thought … you know with you two being a couple and all … we thought you might know where he is.”

“No.” The blonde's voice was so muffled they almost didn't understand her.

Finally Xander couldn't stand it anymore. Putting a hand on Buffy's shoulder he gazed at her seriously. “Buffy, you don't need to pretend. We know.”

Panic entered her eyes, “Know? Know what?”

“About your fight with Angel,” Willow explained, reaching out and taking the blonde's hand. “Xander thought he was following you last night. Not,” she added, seeing the other girl's hostile expression, “to spy on you or something. Just to help. In case you …,” she shrugged. “Anyways. He heard you fight.”

“Yeah,” Xander confirmed. “That's why we tried to find a solution. That's why we searching the net today.”

Buffy stared at her best friends, and then suddenly tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked away.

“Buffy,” Willow said softly. “Xander really-”

“No,” the Slayer shook her head, looking back at them. “It's not… You guys are great,” she sniffed, “God,” she breathed, ran a hand through her hair and turned towards the band. “I … uh … we … well, you know. We had an argument and I … said pretty bad things to him. That he could go and I wouldn't miss him. Well, you heard it, so you know already.” She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hands. “What … what if he already left? What if he decided I wasn't worth to stay?”

“Nah.” Xander grinned when Buffy's head whirled around, her tearful eyes staring at him incredulously. “Hey, I hate the guy. But that doesn't mean I can't see he's crazy about you. Besides, Angel wouldn't just leave. That's just not his style. He'd tell you, face to face. And anyway. As far as I heard it last night, he was only thinking about it, in case his soul was still in danger. He didn't make a decision.”

When his words finally sunk in, the Slayer felt panic rise inside of her. It was one thing to think he had left. It was bad, but at least it would mean he was alright and alive. But if he was still in Sunnydale, if he hadn't left, and after looking at Xander again, she was sure of it, it could only mean something bad. Something she didn't even want to think about.

“Oh God,” she managed, pressing a hand on her trembling lips. “What if something happened to him?”

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow squeezed the hand she was still holding. “I'm sure he's alright. Maybe he just got lost doing … something.” But she could clearly see that the Slayer didn't believe her, and if she was honest with herself, she didn't believe it either. Angel might have vanished for days, sometimes weeks, but those times were long over. He wouldn't leave Sunnydale without telling Buffy. And that left only one other possibility.

“Maybe we should find out,” Xander suggested.

“But where?,” the redhead gave her friend a helpless look.

The Slayer's eyes were hard, her jaw set determinedly. “There's only one thing I can imagine,” she said slowly, getting up from her chair, reaching behind her back, checking for the stake she'd always hidden there. She never forgot it, it was an automatic gesture. “I didn't finish the job the last time. But this time, he's going to pay.”

“Pay?,” Xander was irritated, “Who's going to pay.”

“Spike,” Buffy replied, her fists clenching and unclenching in a steady rhythm. “He's going to pay. He'll learn that messing with a Slayer's boyfriend can be deadly.

*****

Angel heard the door of the factory open and close, and he heard an unfamiliar voice. He didn't have to wonder whom it belonged because only seconds later, Dru and Spike appeared, accompanied by a tall man, clad all in black, his face long, covered with scars, his eyes glittering like coals. He was undoubtedly a vampire, but there was something … Something Angel couldn't put a finger on.

The stranger stepped closer, mustering the dark-haired vampire with unconcealed interest. “That's him then,” he said, his English heavily accented. Something eastern European, Angel guessed, and felt the hair at his neck stand up straight. No, it couldn't be, he tried to calm himself, but already he knew there was no other explanation.

“I always wanted to see him in person. Interesting, very interesting.” The stranger turned away, his eyes sweeping over Spike and Dru, then he turned back to Angel. “Alright,” he nodded once. “I will do it. I will remove the creatures soul.” < P> Part 12

Giles was on his way to his kitchenette when the door bell rang. He'd fallen asleep three hours ago, and was angry with himself for wasting three hours of precious time.

After what Xander and Willow had told him in the library, he was more determined than ever to find a solution for the problem with Angel's curse. He'd given the situation a lot of thought since then and was more convinced than ever that the dark-haired vampire was of the utmost importance for his Slayer. It hurt him to admit it, and he wished it was different, that he, her watcher, was the one she'd rely on, but fortunately he wasn't arrogant enough to let his wishes blind him.

Buffy relied on Angel. There had been understandable mistrust for a while, and Giles would be concerned if it had been different. She was the Slayer after all, and a vampire, soul or no, was her sworn enemy. But after overcoming the initial problems she relied on him. Completely and unquestioningly. She trusted him.

She'd gone through Hell, while his soul was gone. Only sheer determination had let her make it through the weeks alone, seeing her lover's face, laughing at her, hearing his voice, taunting her. Giles was incredibly proud of her, but he had also seen her resolve weakening, had seen the despair behind the bravado, the urge to give up, to give in.

Angel's return had been like a present, but it had come with a twist, making it not less precious, yet incredibly fragile, straining Slayer's and vampire's nerves to the limit. It was only reasonable that Angel thought about leaving, and under different circumstances Giles wouldn't have given it a second thought. But the way things were, he had to. He had to find a way to solve the problem with Angel's soul. He was her bloody watcher, dammit. He'd been nothing but useless so far, it was time to show he could more than just research stupid prophecies and demons.

Shaking his head over himself, he walked towards the door. Stupid prophecies? The Watcher's council would have a fit could they hear his thoughts.

He had a small smile on his face that turned into a frown when he saw Miss Calender standing in front of his apartment. “Jenny?” “Oh.” She seemed startled for a moment. “Good evening, Rupert.” He saw her biting her lower lip, fidgeting with the coat she was wearing, “I … uh … I know it is late, and … and I'm … I don't want to disturb you, but … maybe I've found something … helpful.”

He watched her for a moment, feeling a stab of guilt for her nervous behaviour, knowing he was at least partially responsible for it, having treated her like an intruder this morning in the library. She'd been so comfortable with him in the morning and he'd destroyed it with his thoughtlessness and harsh words. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall, “It's not even ten o'clock. Besides, I was about to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?”

He stepped back, making room for her to step inside, then closed the door behind her.

*****

“I still think we should have told Giles what we're going to do.” Willow walked between Oz and Xander, her eyes nervously darting around, her ears trying to pick any noise. It wasn't that she was a coward, not really, but walking into a dangerous vampire's lair wasn't something she did every day. Sure, Buffy was with them, but Slayer or no, with Spike and Drusilla you could still end up a midnight snack quite easily.

“There was no time,” Buffy bit out, her gaze directed straight ahead, her strides long and determined. “It would've been too long to get him. We would've lost too much precious time.”

“He's probably asleep anyway,” Xander muttered, ignoring Willow's glare. “And besides, this is fun, right? I mean, we're going to fight dangerous vampires, become famous and … no, wait. We're not going to be famous. Because nobody even knows we're doing what we're doing. We're probably going to end up dead. Extremely dead.”

“Buffy, we all know how important this is for you. It's about Angel after all,” the redhead said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with the Slayer. “But wouldn't it been wiser if we would be prepared. Giles would research the whole-”

“We don't even know what's going on,” the blond replied, her voice showing impatience. “If you don't know what's going on, there's nothing to research.”

“Girl's got a point here,” Oz threw in, giving the Slayer a slight smile she ignored. He didn't mind. She was somewhere else, already focussed on an upcoming battle with Spike and Drusilla. His eyes darted to Willow at his right side. He understood. If anyone was about to hurt his girl, he'd do the same.

“I'm all for it, Buff. As long as we don't end up dead.” Xander smiled nervously at the Slayer.

She stopped all of a sudden, took a deep breath, then turned to her friends, her eyes serious, her mouth firm. “You can go. Just turn around and go. All of you. As you already pointed out, this is about Angel. He's my boyfriend. Nothing concerns any of you. So if you want to leave, I can understand. I won't blame you. But if you're coming with me, there will be no more complaining. I cannot listen to it. Not now.” She took another deep breath, distress clearly visible on her face, but her eyes didn't lose their focus, “So what is it going to be?”

“Of course we're coming with you,” Willow said instantly, her chin coming up. “Right?” She looked around, daring the others to say otherwise.

“Sure.” Oz agreed, shrugged. His girlfriend went, he went.

“It was never a question,” Xander's face was serious. “Not that I actually think the prospect of dying for Dead-Boy is really promising, but that doesn't mean I'm going to bail.”

Buffy studied their faces for a moment, then obviously content with what she was seeing, she nodded. “Fine. Let's go.” She turned and without another comment her friends followed.

*****

Jenny wrung her hands in her lap, licking her dry lips nervously, while she watched Giles preparing tea in his kitchenette. He hadn't said another word ever since she'd stepped over his threshold, just taken her coat, then busied himself by making tea. He wasn't unfriendly or hostile, but he hadn't given any indication that he was glad to see her either.

She glanced at the sheets of paper she'd placed on the table, not sure anymore that it had been the best idea to come here without giving him a call before. But she'd been so excited when she'd found the pages on the net and knew she couldn't wait until tomorrow to show him. Plus, she had no idea how he'd react if she just called him. The way he was would make it more difficult for him to brush her off face to face.

“… hungry?” Her head snapped up, and with startled eyes she looked at him. “Excuse me? What?”

A smile crept across his face, and Jenny felt her heart-rate increase. “I wanted to know if you're hungry?”

“Oh,” she laughed nervously. “No. No, I'm fine. There's no need to-”

“It's not a problem. I could make you a sandwich,” he offered.

“No. Really, I'm fine.” She hadn't eaten since breakfast, her face glued to the screen, everything else forgotten. But the last she wanted was to cause him any more trouble.

“Okay. Tea is ready,” he announced then walked over to her, placing a steaming mug in front of her. “There we go.”

“Thanks.” She swallowed, her mouth feeling dry and her tongue heavy like lead. Still, she managed, “I'm glad you … had time to see me.”

“Jenny-”

“No, I mean, really. It's late,” she babbled, stumbling over the words, “And it's not as if I'm a close friend. So, I'm really grateful.” Suddenly not sure what to do with her hands, she reached for her tea, took a sip and burnt the tip of her tongue. She stifled a groan, put the mug back down, cursing her fingers for trembling.

“Jenny.” His voice was gentle, firm.

“Rupert, really-”

“Jenny,” he repeated, reaching out for her hand, catching it before she could pull it away. “Don't,” he pleaded, remorse in his voice. “Please.”

His palm enveloping her hand was warm, and Jenny felt his strength, his gentleness, and warmth spread through her,  her stomach fluttering. Licking her lips, she looked up. “Yes?”

“I think I need to apologize.”

“No-”

“Oh, yes,” he insisted. “I'm sorry for the way I treated you this morning. I was … feeling useless and in general sorry for myself.” He chuckled slightly, “I was reading all through the night and I didn't find anything helpful. Not a single thing. I was tired and cranky. With the situation, with your clan, and then…,” he trailed off, shook his head, his eyes pleading for understanding.

“And then I was there,” she said, managing a slight smile, turning her hand in his and squeezing it. “I understand. You needed a vessel for your anger.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, squeezing her hand back. “And I'm sorry for it. More than you can know. Am I forgiven?”

She stared at him for a moment, not sure she'd gotten this right, then suddenly laughed, “Of course. Oh, Rupert,” she felt tears in her eyes, but didn't care. “I thought you wanted to let me know that … “

“No,” he shook his head. “Jenny, I already told you that … I was ready to start over. I just … Sometimes I'm obviously more human than I want to. I behaved like an idiot. But it also tells me that I still need time. I thought I'd forgiven you, and I think I have, but maybe there's still that tiny bit of resentment that comes out at certain times.”

“I understand. And it's okay,” she replied quickly. “I've been hurt, too. By my people. It's maybe harder to forgive them, because they don't want to listen and they don't want to learn, but …,” she smiled through her tears, took a shaky breath, “You really want to start over?”

“That's what I said.” Giles smiled, and the smile made his face younger, even more handsome if it was possible. “But it has to wait. At least until we find a solution, something, anything, to make the situation more bearable for Buffy and Angel. It seems they had a fight last night, and Angel indicated he was thinking about leaving Sunnydale.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yes. And Buffy was acting very strange this morning. I'm afraid you were right all along. You remember telling me you weren't sure she was able to go on without him?”

“Yes.” Jenny nodded gravely, then suddenly remembered why she'd come in the first place. Pulling her hand from Giles's grasp, she reached for the printouts. “Here,” she told him, “I found this today on the net. It's in Russian. I'm not very good at it, but as far as I can read it, it might be of help.”

His face intent, Giles reached behind him, produced the sheets Willow had given him in the morning, “Willow found this,” he explained, handing it to Jenny, picking hers up in the process. “It's French. It gives a lot of hints. Maybe those together…,” his voice trailed off, his concentration already on the words in Cyrillic.

Jenny looked at his profile, suddenly feeling almost giddy. He wanted to start over. Maybe they would have a chance together after all. She could hardly believe it. With a smile on her face she began to read. *****

With a kick of her leg, Buffy slammed the door of the factory open, storming inside like a bullet, her eyes frantically searching for Angel. Before she could find him, several of Spike's minions charged the small group, attacking with furious growls.

As if they were only annoying distractions, she staked them left and right, kicking them, punching them, she sent another flying into a wooden chair, the furniture breaking in the process, one leg impaling the demon straight through the heart. When there were only three minions left, she left them with her friends, already focussed on a small group in the opposite corner, a peroxide blond in a wheelchair, a black-haired woman in a read gown, and a tall, dark stranger, who was talking in a strange voice, using an unknown language, holding a book in his hands.

She saw Spike whirling around, shouting at his remaining minions to get down and take care of the Slayer. She only heard parts of it, her eyes resting on a figure, chained to the wall, huddled in the corner, a figure who, without any doubt, was Angel.

“Angel!,” she shouted, staking another charging vampire, that was coming down the stairs.

She saw Angel's eyes snap open. They seemed darker than usual, almost black, and they held something she'd rarely seen in them before. Fear. Angel was afraid, and in realising that, she also understood what was happening. The dark, tall stranger wasn't just talking, he was chanting. And it didn't take a genius to know what all the chanting was about. He was trying to take Angel's soul away.

“NOOOOOO,” she yelled, whirling around, kicking another vampire, staking a second one, without even looking, behind her back. Willow, Xander, and Oz were joining her now, obviously having gotten rid of the vampires at the entrance. The odds seemed better for a moment, but then Drusilla was there, throwing Xander against a pillar with a single blow. But Buffy didn't care, couldn't care, hearing the constant chanting of the stranger, she left her friends, and with two strides was behind him, kicking him in the back, sending him into  the wall, the book flying in the opposite direction.

Ignoring Spike in his wheelchair, she knelt down, her hand cupping Angel's cheek, her voice urgent, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he managed, but she could see he was already weakened by the parts of the spell the stranger had performed.

“It'll be okay,” she said, but before she could open his chains, Angel shouted urgently, “Willow.”

Buffy turned around, just in time to see Drusilla bending Willow's neck to in an unnatural angle, clearly in order to break it any moment. “I'll be back,” she told Angel, then sprinted through the factory, attacking the insane vampire before she could finish what she had started. Willow sank to the ground, but Buffy saw she was reaching for her neck, rubbing it, and released a breath of relief. She punched Drusilla again, the vampire staggering backwards, when Spike joined the battle, a long wooden bar in his hands aiming at Oz.

“Look out,” Buffy cried, glad when the bar missed Oz' head by a mere inch. The same moment, she heard a noise from the other end of the factory. From the corner of her eye Buffy saw the stranger stir, then crawling towards an object that was lying a few feet away. His hand reached out for the book, she saw it grabbing it, and a never known panic seized her.

Forgetting everything around her, she started towards the stranger, determined to stop what she knew he was about to finish. The stranger's body was contorted with pain, his eyes half-closed, but even through the slits Buffy could see the evil shining from them, making her stomach churn.

She blocked it out, tried to push everything away, concentrating only to reach him in time, the factory seeming huge all of a sudden.

She heard him start to chant, saw Angel's eyes behind him locking into hers, a quiet apology in them, a silent goodbye. No, she wanted to shout but her voice didn't obey, her legs feeling like lead, moving too slow, even though she was steadily coming closer. But would it be in time? Could it be?

She was close now, the stranger almost in her reach, when a body came flying from the side, tackling into her, the momentum of the impact carrying both bodies into the side wall with a loud crack, a shrill voice screeching, “NOOOOO! You're not taking my Daddy away,” and Drusilla's sharp claws reaching for the Slayer's throat.

Buffy felt dizzy for a moment, but managed to shake the insane vampire off of her, Drusilla slamming against some trash stacked in a corner, her whimper like that of a sick child. “Daddy, daddy, daddy.” The Slayer heard Spike growl at the other end of the factory, but ignored it, hoping Willow, Xander and Oz would hold him in check with crosses and Holy Water for another while. He was still in a wheelchair, after all, and not as dangerous as usual.

Her eyes were searching Angel but the moment they found him, she felt her stomach fall through the bottom. His eyes were closed, he seemed far away. The stranger was lying nearby, an eerie smile on his lips, when he whispered, “It's done.”< P> Part 13

The atmosphere in Giles' living-room could only be described as gloom. Willow was sitting beside Oz on the sofa, fighting tears, while her boyfriend's expression wasn't as stoic as usual, and one of his hands was rubbing the redhead's still sour neck. Xander sat opposite to them, eyes cast at his lap, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between.  Jenny was trying to make herself useful by preparing tea and coffee and some snacks although she doubted anyone would want to eat.

They had arrived half an hour ago, Buffy and Xander carrying an unconscious Angel between them, and while Oz and Willow had informed Giles and Jenny about the events that had taken place in the factory that night, Xander and Buffy had managed to get Angel upstairs, where the Slayer had chained him to the watcher's bed. She was still upstairs with him, hadn't left his side ever since.

“Here.”

Jenny's hesitant voice broke the silence, three pairs of startled eyes looking at her.

“I've made some sandwiches, and tea and coffee, if you want.” She tried a smile, but failed miserably, and her hands shook badly when she placed cups and plates in front of the teenagers. Ever since Willow had revealed the name of the stranger they'd met in the factory, her world had turned upside down. Again.

“Thanks,” Willow tried to smile, too, but wasn't any more successful. “I'm not hungry.”

“Y-yes,” Jenny nodded,. “I can understand, my stomach feel rather queasy, too.”

“I'm sorry,” the redhead said honestly, her voice full of compassion, “About Dario.”

A frown appeared on Miss Calender's forehead, and she swallowed hard, trying desperately not to break down. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“It's not your fault.” Giles came down the stairs, his eyes on the dark-haired woman, whose face was as white as a sheet, and whose cheeks were freckled with nervous red spots.

“How is it?,” Willow wanted to know, straightening on the sofa, grabbing Oz's hand for support.

The watcher sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Still the same. Angel is out to the world. And Buffy doesn't move from his side.”

“So we still don't have a clue if he's still got his soul or not, right.” Xander's voice was defeated. “I wonder how she can stand it?”

“Because she's incredibly strong, and because she doesn't have a choice,” Giles replied, nodding gratefully at Jenny, when the computer teacher placed a cup of tea in his hand.

“Poor Buffy.” Willow once again fought with tears, leaned her head against Oz's shoulder. “I wish we could do something.”

“We can only wait.” The watcher sipped from his tea, then looked at Jenny. “Stop beating yourself up over the fact that your cousin was involved into this.”

“I can't,” she whispered, swallowing hard. “I knew him all my life.” He was my first lover, she thought. How am I going to deal with the fact that he became a vampire, for the only reason to bring back Angelus? The pain in her chest was almost suffocating her.  “I played with him. We knew each others secrets.” She shook her head. “I cannot understand what happened. I know he was eaten up by hatred, but this…”

“We cannot know what goes on in another one's head,” Giles said, reaching for her hand, glad when she didn't pull away. “It was his decision.”

“He's right, you know,” Oz gaze was thoughtful.

“Buffy beat him up pretty good to get him to talk,” Xander said, staring into his coffee. “We would've brought him back here, but he mumbled something and disintegrated to dusk right before our eyes, together with his damned book. Man, that was creepy.”

“He killed himself,” Willow reached for her own cup. “I suppose his task was finished. He'd done what he wanted to do.”

“But why bring back Angelus?,” Jenny asked nobody in particular. “It's sick.”

“He was a vampire,” Giles said quietly, squeezing her hand. “Vampires don't act logical. We've always thought they were only creatures of instinct, but knowing what we do now, I'm not sure anymore. We will probably never know what drove him.”

“I have to tell my people,” Miss Calender glanced at the phone. “I cannot even think what this is going to do to them. They are very traditional people. The shame will kill them. To think that one of her clan went against all they are standing for …,” she shook her head, then let out an unhappy laugh. “And I cannot believe I'm sorry for them after all they did.”

“That's because you're a good person,” the watcher's voice was warm. “You still love them. We don't stop loving a person only because we're disappointed. We might stop trusting them, but love,” he smiled, his eyes locked with hers, “is a completely different matter.”

She managed a wobbly smile, not daring to interpret the look in his eyes. She felt too shaky right now, and wasn't sure she'd be able to deal with another possible disappointment in case she was wrong. Slowly, she pulled her hand away. “Could I use your phone?”

“Take the one in the study,” he offered, pointing at the door in the back, “You've got privacy there.”

“I will,” her smile was grateful, but still sad. “Thank you.” Squeezing his hand again, she was gone.

*

Buffy couldn't stop touching him. She held Angel's hand, stroked his face, her fingers trailing over his handsome features, her thumb coming to rest on his lips, full, passionate, soft. She closed her eyes and could almost feel them on her own, could feel a slow dizziness at the thought, her stomach fluttering in response. She imagined his hands buried in her hair, while he whispered words of love to her between kisses.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open and she stifled a sob the very last moment. Blinking rapidly, she pulled her hand from his face, but still feeling the need for contact, she placed it on Angel's. His skin was cool, his dead body not producing any heat. She should have felt uncomfortable because of it, but didn't. His coolness, his body, his skin were so familiar to her. He'd been her only lover, and for a moment she wondered if she'd ever be able to be intimate with a normal human male. Would it feel weird, having warm hands touching her most private parts, the parts only her physician and Angel had seen?

Abruptly she turned her head towards the window, the first tear falling from her lashes, the idea of another man touching her too painful to be contemplated any further. Because it would mean Angel was gone, and she wasn't ready to deal with it. Not yet, maybe not ever.

She heard a noise from the doorway and quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, then turned her head to see who'd come upstairs. “Hi,” she greeted her watcher. He was standing just inside the room, looking at her intently, his eyes holding compassion and concern.

“How is he?,” he asked, his gaze travelling to Angel, whose still form was lying on the bed, arms and legs securely chained to the posts.

She shrugged, “The same. He hasn't moved. How … how are the others?,” she asked, changing the subject, “Is Willow okay?”

“I think her neck is still a bit sour. But she's going to be alright. You don't have to worry, Buffy.” He gave her a smile, his voice gentle. He walked to the bed and sat down at Angel's other side. “I have to admit, I never saw an unconscious vampire before. It's … strange. He seems dead and yet …,” he trailed off, giving her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn't want to…”

She held up a hand, “It's okay, Giles. Yes, he looks dead, but he isn't dust, so I think it's a safe bet he's not.” She frowned suddenly, grimaced, “Well, he is dead of course, and not in a really creepy sort of way. It's strange, you know. I never saw him as a dead corpse. For me he was just Angel. A vampire, yeah, but somehow … not.”

“I know,” he replied, his eyes warm, understanding. “For you he was a man.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her messy ponytail bobbing up and down. “I … uhm … I'm sorry we came here, Giles,” she said then, biting her lower lip. “But I could hardly bring him home. Mom isn't there, but … She might come tomorrow and we still don't know,” she gestured at Angel, “I mean, we cannot know if … I mean, how long … and she might be back then-”

“There's no need to apologize,” Giles interrupted her gently. “Your mother doesn't know anything about your secret identity. And I can only guess how shocked she would be to find Angel, a vampire, in your bed. No, you did the right thing.”

“Thanks,” she exhaled a pent up breath, managed to give him a grateful smile, then finally asked the question, she'd been asking herself ever since she'd seen him, eyes closed, unconscious, at the factory. “What do you think, Giles,” she asked, glad her voice was only shaking slightly, “Is he still Angel?”

He looked at her for a moment before answering, “I honestly don't know. I wish I … had a way to find out, but unfortunately,” he shook his head sadly. “All we can do is wait.”

“And then?,” she asked, new tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't want to face it, but she knew she had to. The problem was she wasn't sure she could do it. The idea of once again seeing those empty, bottomless pools in the face of her lover, was like a fist clenching around her heart. It was suddenly hard to breathe. But she managed to shake it off, reminded herself she'd endured it once, and she could do it again. She'd be strong. And there was still the curse Jenny had translated. They could use it and curse him again, couldn't they?

As if sensing her thoughts, Giles's face became very serious, “Do you really want that?,” he asked, startling her with his insight. “Do you want him back at any cost?”

Did she? She asked herself. “I …,” she paused, trying to find words for her feelings, but failing. She lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture, feeling suddenly helpless and very tired. “I couldn't stand it,” she admitted finally. “I couldn't stand facing the demon again. Not forever, I mean. I know that he might wake up, being Angelus, but I cannot go through it for weeks. Not again.”

“I understand,” he replied, his voice grave, “And I would never expect it from you. I know you tried to put up a good front, but don't think we didn't see what the last weeks did to you. Besides, it would be completely irresponsible to let his soulless self roam the earth again.” “Do you think  it is wrong to want him back?,” she asked, looking out of the window, to the sky, as if talking to a higher power, wishing them to answer. She was a warrior for the good cause, didn't that mean she was at least entitled to have the one thing she wished most, she wondered? “I know he would want it, too. He wouldn't want to be a vampire, doing evil, killing people. I know how much pain he feels every day, I see it in his eyes. He tries to hide it, but sometimes, when we are close, and he lets his guard down, I can see it. I couldn't do it to him. Even knowing he might leave me, because of the clause in his curse, it's better than being a demon again. Just a demon, without a soul.”

“And you really think,” Giles asked, looking at her back, “he wants to live like that? Never at peace, losing the woman he loves, haunted by the images of his victims, the blood, the pain? None of us know what memories he carries with him, but I think they're worse than anything we can imagine. You've read his curse, Buffy. Do you want to inflict it on him. Do you really?” When she didn't answer, he pushed on, “You've seen the part in his curse where it speaks about feeling pain and grief tenfold. They wanted him to suffer, really suffer. And he has. We don't have the slightest idea what he went through.”

“But he already regained his soul,” Buffy argued, her gaze on Angel's face, “That night in my bedroom.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “he did. But it just happened. We didn't do anything. We still don't know why it happened, but it did. Maybe it was the same curse, maybe it was something completely different. We don't know it. But if he wakes up without his soul, and if we're cursing him again, we would have to use his original curse. It's the only thing we have. Willow and Jenny found some things on the net, but I'm afraid, it's not enough to create a different curse or anything. Besides the fact that we don't even know if we can re-curse him at all,” he paused for a moment, then went on, “We have to decide if it's the right thing to do.”

Her head snapped around at that, her eyes were huge, confused, “What do you mean the right thing to do?,” she asked, a frown on her forehead, “It's the only thing we can do. If he wakes up a demon, we will curse him. There isn't another way. I will not let him be a demon. Not ever. You said yourself it was irresponsible.” She looked at her watcher, saw the expression in his eyes, sad, grave. She tried to ignore what she was reading there, tried to block out what an inner voice had whispered in her head ever since she'd chained Angel to Giles' bed. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No.”

She didn't want to hear Giles' voice, didn't want to hear his reason, but he spoke nevertheless, “I know,” he said, reaching for her hand, enveloping it in his big one. “And I know this will be the hardest decision you've ever made. But you are the Slayer, and, more importantly, you are the woman who loves him, the woman he loves. You have to decide, Buffy. Nobody can do it for you. I wish to God I could, but I can't. If you … should … decide to …,” he paused, cleared his throat, “I can do it. I mean, you don't have to…”

Buffy swallowed, feeling numb, like some part of her was dying deep inside. How could he expect her to even contemplate such a horrible thing? She looked at Angel, his face beautiful, so familiar. She reached out with her free hand, again touching his cheeks, his brows, his nose, his lips. “Our last words were spoken in anger,” she whispered.  “I told him I could live without him, that I didn't mind him leaving.”

“I'm sure he knew you didn't mean it,” Giles said softly, squeezing her hand.

A sob tore from her throat, and she turned her hand in his, squeezing it back. “You really think so? That he knew? I … I should have told him,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, “that I loved him. I love him so much, Giles.”

“Yes, I know. And he knew. I'm absolutely sure of that.” Pulling his hand away, he stood up from the bed, looking at his Slayer and the vampire, feeling such terrible sadness, and such impotent rage, he was trembling with it. “I'm going to leave you two on your own for a while. You need to think.” He walked to the door, paused, “I'm very sorry, Buffy. I wish I could help.”

“I know, Giles,” she said without looking at him. “And you do. Don't feel bad.”

He nodded, even if she couldn't see it, “See you later,” he said. He wanted to say more, but he knew there was nothing he could say or do to ease her pain. He was about to leave, when her voice stopped him cold.

“I will do it,” she said, and there was steel in her voice, “If … I should decide to … I will do it.”

“Buffy-”

“I owe him, Giles. Thanks for offering to do it, but he trusted me, and I owe him. If it should come to it, it will be me.”

He saw her tears fall, saw her trembling fingers move over Angel's face, but he also saw the determined set of her jaw, and knew the decision had been made. “If that's what you want.”

“It's what I have to do.” She turned around, and for a moment he wished she hadn't. Never in his life he would forget the utter despair in her eyes. He saw her trying to cover it, and failing. “What I want…,” her voice was suddenly hollow, hopeless, “Nobody ever asked me what I want. But I suppose that's life, huh?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, then turned and left, his heart heavy.

Buffy looked at the now empty doorway, feeling her soul dying inside of her at the thought what she might have to do soon.

She never noticed that Angel had opened his eyes.

//… // means flashback

 Part 14

Willow was on her feet the moment Giles came back from upstairs. “How is she?”

“As it was to be expected,” was his evading answer. He was still feeling deeply unsettled by the things he'd been forced to say to Buffy. He wished with all his heart he could have done or said anything to help her, but there was absolutely nothing. This helplessness was it that made him want to lash out, to scream and rage, but when he saw the concerned faces of the people assembled in his living-room, it was only a bone-deep weariness he was able to feel.

They hadn't done anything to cause the situation, they had all helped as best as they could, and by Willow's red-rimmed eyes and the way Xander tried to avoid his gaze he knew they felt as deeply as he, and maybe on some level they knew already what he and Buffy had been talking about. “Angel is still out,” he explained. “And Buffy …,” he sighed, “she's trying to deal with the situation. It's hard for her. Incredibly so.”

Willow bit her lower lip, fidgeted with her hands, her eyes and voice terribly uncertain, “Do you … I mean … could I help her. Talk to her maybe or … or just listen?”

He managed to smile at her, knowing that she only wanted to help, but also knowing that there was nothing she could do right now. More than anything Buffy needed time for herself, time to think and to decide. “I know you mean well,” he said gently, “but at the moment … I don't think it would be a good idea to intrude.”

“Oh,” she nodded, sat down, instantly comforted by Oz's arm coming around her shoulders. “It's just,” she shrugged helplessly, “This makes me so mad, and … I feel bad about it. I mean … this is a terrible thing a-and … Why do I feel mad? I'm a bad girl, I know. A bad, bad person.”

Like a volcano erupting, Xander jumped up from his chair, his hands clenched into fists, he stared at his long-time friend incredulously, “Can you - just for a moment - stop thinking about yourself?,” he shouted, then as if not able to look at her any longer, he abruptly turned away. “This isn't about how you feel. This is about Buffy.”

In the same abrupt way he had turned away, his head came up, and his eyes nailed Giles, “What's going to happen if it is Angelus who's waking up? Are we going to re-curse him?,” he asked. “Let me take a guess. We won't.” He heard Willow gasp, ignored it. He ran a hand through his hair, went to the window facing the courtyard. There were stars upon the sky, the moon - only half-full - was bright and friendly. Xander saw none of it. “Man, this really sucks. Is she going to do it, or what?”

Giles looked at the back of the boy he'd misjudged for so long, then replied quietly, “I offered to … But she said it was what she had to do.”

“Oh no,” Willow's eyes flew from Giles' face to Xander and back. “Oh no,” she repeated, throwing her arms around Oz, sobbing into his shoulder.

“She hasn't yet decided what to do,” the watcher walked to the table, took his tea mug, not caring that the contents were long cold. “She needs time.” He sipped, “And we can still hope it won't be him.”

“Yeah, sure.” Xander's voice was full of sarcasm. “And maybe tomorrow Spike will join a convent. What do you think has happened in that factory? There was this evil guy, chanting from this huge, old book, in a language none of us understood. And in  the end he said 'It's done.' And to top it, Jenny tells us it's been her cousin, a Romani. Come again. How can it be anything but the demon who's going to wake up sooner or later? The guy was evil, what do you think he'd do?”

“That's,” came Jenny's voice from the doorway, a frown on her forehead, her eyes thoughtful, even holding a little bit of hope, “really a good question, Xander,” she said, joining the others at the table. “I just talked to my grandmother, and although she was very angry, and not at all pleased to hear from me again, I could at least understand that Dario wasn't evil.”

“He wasn't evil?,” Giles' brows shot up. “What do you mean, he wasn't evil?”

“It seems,” she shook her head, still too surprised to really understand the deeper meaning of all this, “he had a soul.”

*****

“Lucius, can't you drive faster, you bloody idiot?”

“I'm driving as fast as I can, boss. I'm all but flooring the damn thing,” the vampire in question replied, looking at Spike through the rear mirror. “This car isn't exactly built for formula 1.”

“The car is the fastest you can get,” the blond vampire growled. “I was there when it was tuned. Ate the bloke afterwards. Was the weirdest taste,” he added, lost in memories for a moment. “Ever tasted blood with motor oil flavour?”

“Can't say I have.”

“No, of course not.” Spike shook his head, sighed. “It would mean you actually left Sunnydale and had a life. Stupid question. Well, drive as fast as you can. Hell, if I could move my damned legs, I'd show you.”

Lucius nodded, and stifled a smirk. Even handicapped Spike was still a dangerous demon, certainly nobody he wanted to have for an enemy. And there was that girl of his. She might be insane, but he'd seen with his own eyes what she capable of doing. He didn't want to cross her either.

The blond vampire glanced at the sleeping woman whose head was resting in his lap. She was incredibly beautiful, her pale, porcelain skin almost translucent. His princess, his eternal love. They were meant to be together for all times, bound by love and passion. He sighed inwardly, turning his head to the tinted windows, tempted to remove the black paint so he could actually see the landscape.  Drusilla was his, and tonight he had made damned sure Angel would never cross their path again. He could very well do without his bloody sire. Dru was so hung up on him, she all but forgot Spike whenever the Poof was near.

Spike would probably hear his name in his nightmares until eternity, but at least he wouldn't have to fight him for Dru's affections, wouldn't have to wonder if his black princess was crying out in passion because Angelus was using her for his own pleasure. Those last weeks has been enough to irritate a saint, and he was definitely not a saint, far from it. He didn't intend to go through it again at any time soon, or ever.

For a moment he wondered what had happened to Dario, but then dismissed the thought. What did he care? It was enough to know he'd done what Spike wanted him to do, and the blond vampire had heard the words loud enough. It was done. Spike glanced at Dru again. She was his. Angelus would never bother them again. It was all that mattered.

*****

Buffy thought she was going to faint, when she finally turned away from the empty doorway and her eyes fell on Angel. She felt her breath catch, felt her heart beat increase, her stomach clench painfully.

“Buffy.”

It was only a whisper, but it was his voice.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

His voice. How was she going to do this? He was talking to her.  How was she supposed to run a stake through his heart while hearing his voice at the same time. And his eyes…

His eyes?

His eyes?

She had expected to look into the evil, empty eyes of the demon, instead she saw confusion the moment Angel realised he was bound to the bed, and love.

Love?

Love!

Not caring for anything or anybody, never hearing the muffled cry coming from her lips, she launched herself at him, framing his head with her hands, peppering kisses all over his face, her tears wetting his skin. She didn't care. Whispering his name again and again between kisses, she felt a sob coming up, and didn't care either.

Angel was awake, and without a single doubt, she knew it was Angel. Not Angelus. Not the soulless demon. Angel. Her Angel. The man she loved. The man who loved her.

The man who was still chained to Giles' bed.

She stopped in mid-kiss, a sheepish smile creeping up her face, her eyes making contact with his undoubtedly ensouled ones, that were watching her intently, “Uhm … sorry for that,” she nodded at the chains. “It was just for safety reasons.” She laughed to through the tears, feeling as if she could fly, “We didn't exactly know what happened to you.” Quickly she removed the chains, while Angel continued to watch her in silence.

“How do you feel?,” she asked, concern creeping into her voice, as soon as she was finished unbinding him.

He moved his shoulders, still trying to shake off the confusion he felt ever since Buffy'd launched herself on him, and trying to ignore his sudden erection caused by a tiny blond was sitting astride his pelvis. “A little stiff,” he mumbled, for the first time really looking at her. Her clothes were rumpled, torn at several places, she had an already closed cut on her right cheek, there were dirty smudges covering her face, her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying, her hair was bound back in a messy ponytail, but to him she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Slowly, not sure she wanted him to touch her, he reached out, covered her cheek with his palm, trailed his thumb gently over the cut. “You look tired.”

She laughed slightly, more tears spilling over, “Yeah, well, the last hours were a bit hard on my nerves, not to forget the fact that I haven't really slept last night.”

His eyes darkened instantly, and guilt welled up, “I'm sorry,” he said remorsefully, starting to pull his hand away. Instantly Buffy covered it, held it in place for a moment, then turned her head slightly, to kiss the palm.

“No,” her voice was soft, a little raw, “It's okay. We both said things … I was a real bitch.”

“I shouldn't have said anything,” he argued quickly, “It was just a thought I had, never really thought through. I am sorry, Buffy.”

“I know. Me too.” She managed another smile, then suddenly without warning her face crumpled, “Oh God, Angel, I thought I'd lost you,” she cried, sinking back on his chest, tears spilling on his shirt, on the spot where hundreds of years ago, his heart had been beating.”

“Shhh,” he said, stroking her back, holding her, “It's okay. I won't leave you. I'm not going to leave Sunnydale. I had a lot of time to think during … Anyways. The result is, I realised I was a fool for even considering it. I'm going to stay as long as you want me.”

“Forever,” she said fiercely, kissing his chin, then as if suddenly realising their current position, she shifted and came to lie on his side, one hand still placed on his chest. “But that's not what I meant. I … uh …,” she averted her eyes from his inquiring gaze, “We thought you had lost your soul - again.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his body utterly still. Finally he tightened the arm lying around her waist, pulled her close, “Oh, Buffy,” he whispered. “I'm sorry. I wish I could've … but the spell made me so tired, I was out of it as soon as it was finished.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she replied, lifting her face again, when the words sank in, “What do you mean you wish you could've? Could've, what?”

“Told you that the spell wasn't going to take my soul away,” he answered. “It was never meant to do that.”

“What?,” she stared at him as if she hadn't understood, but from the look in her eyes he knew she had. “But … but … the guy was a vampire. I knew he was. He became dust right in front of us.”

His eyes darkened, “You killed him?” There was a strain in his voice, she didn't understand.

“No. He … he just became dust. He said something … Willow thinks it was spell, and then he was dust. Hey, maybe he isn't dead, maybe he just … vanished?,” she tried to lighten his mood, not exactly knowing why. The guy was an evil vampire, for Goodness sake.

“No,” he shook his head sadly, “I think it's a safe bet he died.”

“Why does it bother you? He was just another vampire. Okay, so he knew about spells and … Wait, he never intended to take your soul away?”

“No,” Angel confirmed, his face grave. “As strange as it sounds, but Spike knew about it from the start.”

// Angel opened his eyes when he heard the wheels of Spike's chair rolling towards him, making that familiar squeaking noise on the floor. He saw the blond vampire watching him, his eyes slightly narrowed. As long as Angel would live, Spike would remain a mystery to him. He was usually good in figuring out the people or non-people he dealt with, but the blond had always been different, starting with  the way he obviously cared for Dru. Ending with the stranger staying with them at the moment. His presence just didn't add up.

“Want to take a good look?,” Angel asked, studying Spike's face, still showing traces of the burns he'd suffered at the church months ago.

“Nah,” the blond rolled closer, never taking his eyes from the other vampire. “How does it feel, Angel?” He rolled the name on his tongue in a way that was meant to be an insult. And for Spike it probably was. For a vampire the idea of a soul was something thoroughly disgusting, it had been for Darla, hundred years ago. And he himself had felt it, the moment his soul was gone. “Angel. What a name. I wonder if it burns you each time you say it.”

“I am really not up for this,” the dark-haired vampire replied, then driven by a sudden urge, he asked, “What's going on, Spike?”

“Going on?,” the blond asked, feigning innocence. “You are chained to the wall. And it makes me feel bloody great to see it. To see all this cocky arrogance on the ground for a change.”

“So you're gonna torture me or what? Well, been there, done that. But that's not what I meant.”

Spike cocked his head, his eyes turning to slits, before a grin appeared on his lips, “You mean because the guy's got a soul?”

Angel's eyes narrowed as well, but after a moment of hesitation, he said, “Yeah.”

“Thought you'd notice that,” the other vampire's grin widened. “Only Dru's too,” he made a circular motion with his forefinger next to his temple, “you know. But I can't have her interfering this time. Funny what a few pills can do. Sent her to la-la-land in a flash.”

“So,” Angel straightened slightly against the wall, “What is going to happen?”

“A little spell casting. The guy's actually a wizard. A real pro. Was made a vampire, then his clan gave him a soul,” he rolled his eyes, his face showing disgust, “Not that it matters. But for this he was the perfect choice.”

“And he's going to do what?” “Anchor your soul of course. I really can't stand you, but the soulless version is downright annoying. Don't care to meet him again.” He snorted, reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Lighting it, he took a deep draw.

Angel didn't even try to understand what was going on, but for the moment he didn't care. “He is a Romani.” It wasn't a question.

“Yeah,” Spike nodded. “Well, hope to never see you again, and all.”

He was about to turn away, when Angel's voice stopped him. “Why not just kill me?,” the dark-haired vampire asked, his eyes questioning.

Spike shrugged, then laughed slightly, blew out another cloud of smoke, “Beats me. The hell if I knew. Maybe I'm a sentimental idiot. But I learned a lot from you, Angelus. And though I hated you …,” he shrugged again. “I think even eternity would be too short until we met again, but somehow to know you were gone …,” he shrugged a third time and with awe Angel realised Spike was actually embarrassed. He really would die first before figuring out the guy. “So, I guess that makes me a sentimental fool, huh?”

Angel couldn't help the incredulous laugh coming from his lips, “Yeah, sure.”

Spike turned away, “Whatever,” he said over his shoulder. “But whatever the reason, I'm sure you heard the saying about the gift horse's mouth.” With that he was gone.//

“So it was all just to keep Dru from interfering?,” Buffy asked incredulously, her chin resting on Angel's chest.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, still feeling slightly unreal, his fingers stroking over her back in slow circular motions. “Dario, that was the guy's name, had been told what to say in front of her, and as he was eager to anchor my soul,” he shrugged, “It seems he's been trying to find a spell to help me,” he shook his head, “I know it sounds strange, but it's the truth. When his tribe found out about it, they kicked him out. He was made a vampire that night, and to keep him from harming people, they cursed him with a soul. They used the same curse they used on me.”

“So when Spike contacted him, he jumped on it? How did Spike know about him anyway?”

“He didn't,” Angel told her. “I only spoke shortly to Dario, but he contacted Spike.” “I still cannot believe that Spike did this,” she shook her head, a frown appearing on her forehead, “Why exactly did he want to get rid of your evil self? I mean you might be annoying and all, but I cannot believe that's all.”

Angel coughed slightly, images of Dru flickering through his head, he was suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Sure, he'd been a soulless demon then, but he had a feeling Buffy wouldn't take it too well to hear what he had done during those weeks, besides killing people or trying to bring the world to an end. “There … uh … are several things. We never got along very well. To tell you the truth, I couldn't believe he wasn't just killing me.”

That brought a smile on her face, “Well, I for one, won't look in the horse's mouth,” the smiled widened into a grin, a very wicked one, “Wasn't there something about your soul being anchored and all?”

“Buffy,” he hissed, feeling her hands travelling lower on his chest, “We don't have privacy here. We can't.”

She looked up, her lower lips stuck out in an adorable pout, “Why?”

“Because …,” he inhaled sharply, feeling her fingers like hot little pokers burning his skin. She'd pushed up his shirt and was now stroking his bare belly. “Buffy,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Spoilsport,” she muttered, not removing her hands.

He was about to take her shoulders to remove her forcefully from his body, not really caring for anyone to run in on them, when a shocked outcry came from the door. They jumped away from each other, while Willow who'd come to look after Buffy, was turning beet-red, not quite sure what to do with her eyes. They were darting around wildly, and Angel saw her swallow several times, embarrassment radiating from her in waves.

“Hi Willow,” he said softly.

Part 15

“Okay, let's get this straight. So this Dario-guy had a soul, the same kind you have?” Xander leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, still trying to get used to the sight in front of him.

“Had,” Buffy corrected instantly, snuggling deeper into Angel's embrace. “The same kind he had.”

“Well, actually,” the vampire gave her a smile, “it's the same soul all along. It's just …”

“… glued in and all,” the Slayer completed his sentence, returning his smile.

“Hell,” Xander exclaimed and rolled his eyes, “Are we damned to watch this all the time now?”

“Yes. Get used to it.” Buffy stuck out her tongue at him, then kissed Angel soundly on his mouth.

The vampire chuckled, too relived to feel even a bit uncomfortable at this public display of affection. But as nice as it was to have Buffy sitting in his lap, it was also dangerous. Her constant, even if unconscious, wiggling was going to cause a big problem soon. Angel tightened his arm around the blond, and when she looked and smiled at him, he could see it in the wicked glimpse in her eyes that she was perfectly aware of the situation. Unfortunately with all their friends present there wasn't an awful lot he do against it short of completely embarrassing himself.

“So … uhm …,” Willow coughed slightly, her face still flushed, still not able to look at the couple in the love-seat, “You knew this Dario-person well?” She turned to Jenny.

“Yes,” the computer teacher confirmed. “We grew up together. He was … the best friend I had.”

“It must be a relief to know he was good after all.” The redhead gazed compassionately at the older woman.

“It is,” Jenny said, “After what Angel told me,” she blinked, again feeling tears well up in her eyes. She felt Giles take her hand in his, and gave him a tremulous smile. “I still can't believe how I misjudged him.”

“Jenny, don't,” the watcher's voice was gentle. “He didn't give you any indication to think differently.”

“But I should have known,” she insisted, “I knew him all my life. I should have known he wouldn't do it. He isn't like the rest of my clan.”

“To know he did it for you,” Willow said, a dreamy look in her eyes, “Wow. That's so romantic.”

“He did it out of friendship and loyalty,” Giles said. “He wanted to help Jenny because he believed her and trusted her. He was convinced his people were wrong. He didn't believe in vengeance.”

“I'm really sorry he died,” Angel's voice was grave. “I only met him once, but he had kind eyes, and he really loved you, Jenny. It was important to him that you knew.”

“Yes, and I'm glad. I … I mean it's still hard, to know, to think he's gone. But … as strange as it sounds … it's also a good feeling to know that he didn't turn against me like the rest of them.”

“I'm sorry I never met him,” Giles squeezed Jenny's hand. “He must have been a very special person. To think that he wanted to help a vampire, he was taught to hate, because he trusted your judgement,” he shook his head in amazement.

“But I still don't understand why he killed himself,” Buffy frowned. “There was no reason. I mean, he had anchored Angel's soul. He could've stayed, and helped.”

Giles let go of Jenny's hand, reached for the printed sheets lying beside him, “I can only guess,” he said, “This print-out Jenny brought to me before you came, it says that there are several magicks used by gypsies that can suck the life-energy right from the person using it.”

“You mean … you can die from using magick?” Willow asked, clearly shocked.

“Of course,” the watcher nodded. “It depends on the person of course. And … well, there are things …,”he looked suddenly concerned, not certain what to reveal and what not.  Then he remembered something, “Think about Eygon. It certainly defines as dangerous magick. But there are things … none of us can imagine. So what I'm guessing is that completing this spell took all the energy he had. I'm not sure if a mere human would've been able to do a spell like that. Soul magick is potent. And dangerous. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that only the fact that he was a vampire gave him the strength to do it at all.”

“You mean that he would have died anyway?” Xander asked.

“Yes,” Jenny confirmed sadly. “And I'm sure he knew.” “Yes.” Angel nodded, stroking Buffy's hair. “He knew.”

“He did it for you, and because he believed in what he was doing.” Giles smiled warmly at the computer teacher. “He really was your friend and a truly remarkable man.”

“Well, this is all very nice and … I really don't want to be a spoilsport here. But does anyone know what happened with Spike and Drusilla?”

“We don't know,” Buffy straightened on Angel's lap. “And honestly, I didn't really pay attention. After Angel was unconscious I didn't care what happened to them.”

“So it's probably a safe bet to say they are still out there, somewhere.” Xander reached for his coffee.

“Yeah,” Angel nodded, “But I don't think they'll come back. Spike and I …,” he looked at Buffy, “came to an understanding.”

“You still didn't tell me why he was so eager to get rid of the soulless version,” she said.

The vampire cleared his throat, and she giggled.

Xander rolled his eyes, but then chuckled. Willow leaned against Oz's shoulder, sighing inwardly.

Jenny looked at Giles. He was smiling. She reached for his hand. Their eyes locked. And when the others left the apartment a while later, she didn't go with them.

Epilogue

Four weeks later.

“You think,” Buffy said, looking at the moon and the stars, her hand entwined with Angels, “Spike and Dru will ever come back?”

A low growl came from her side, and she stifled a giggle, “They better not.” She felt Angel's hand tighten around hers.

“He didn't kill you after all,” she pointed out, “ and anchored your soul in the process. You should be grateful.”

“Sure,” he chuckled, sarcasm in his voice, “and he did it for completely unselfish reasons.”

“You know,” her eyes were still directed at the sky, but her whole being was focussed on the man beside her, “you still haven't told me the real reason Spike hates you so much. I mean, yeah, you said all vampires think a soul is filthy, but … somehow … There has to be more.” He sighed loudly. After a moment, he pulled her close, his arms coming around her waist, his eyes locking with hers. “Let's just say, we had, on occasion, similar taste in women.”

“Oh?” one of her brows came up. “Do tell.”

He sighed again, quite obviously not comfortable with the subject. But there was no pain in his eyes, and so she pushed on. Poking a finger in his chest, she wrapped her other arm around his neck. “Well, tell me.”

He grinned, “I'd rather kiss you. Your pouts are adorable.”

She narrowed her eyes, not responding to his attempt to seduce her, “Don't try to evade the question, mister. Distracting me …,” she sighed when his teeth nibbled at her earlobe, “… will get to everywhere.”

Angel's laugh was low and seductive and she felt shivers run up and down her spine. “Angel,” she breathed, his lips now travelling a path from her earlobe to her chin. She'd read in one of the women's magazines that some men could do magic with their lips. Well, Angel certainly was one of them. “God,” she managed, her knees going weak. “You certainly know how to do this.” But dammit, he was not going to distract her like this. Not again. Whenever she'd tried to approach the subject he'd managed to find a way out. Well, no more.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned all her remaining will - there wasn't really a lot left - and pushed her palms against his shoulders. Obviously surprised at the sudden change in her, he raised his head. “What?”

Her chin came up, daring him to try anything like that again, “Tell,” she demanded.

He looked at her intently for a moment and he must have seen something in her eyes, because after a moment he straightened, but without loosening his embrace, “This isn't a comfortable subject for me, Buffy.”

“Who would have guessed,” she joked, but her eyes were serious. Realising there was more behind all this, she put a hand on his cheek, “Hey, I'm not going to condemn you, Angel. “

He laughed at that, but it was a nervous sound. “Well, you might,” he said, his arms tightening around her waist. “Alright then.” He took a deep breath, “You know I'm Dru's Sire, right?” When he saw her nod, he went on. “Angelus in general had a … more than healthy sexual appetite … and …”

“Oh …,” she surprised him completely by grinning suddenly. “You mean you and Dru …,” another laugh, “Oh, wow. You had a thing for loony-tunes Drusilla?”

He couldn't help but being slightly annoyed by her lax attitude towards a subject he'd thought would be painful for her. “I wouldn't really call it a 'thing', but yeah, Dru and I …”

She laughed again, but seeing him frown darkly at her, she raised on her tiptoes, planted a firm kiss on his lips, “Well, all I can say is, good you have your soul now. Because having a thing for Dru … honestly, it's pathetic.”

He managed a weak smile, still hardly able to understand why she didn't mind the least. But maybe, other than he, she'd already understood the difference between ensouled and soulless version. “Pathetic, huh?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, “You're way better off with me.”

His responding grin was genuine, “I agree. With all my heart.”

They kissed, then pulled away from each other, yet their hands were still entwined when they continued to walk. They were silent for a while, before she spoke again, “So … this similar taste in women, you and Spike had. Did it happen more than once?”

“Yeah,” he shot her a sideways glance, not sure what she was up to.

“And you always won the girl?”

“Uh … most of the times I just took her.”

“Uh-huh.”

Another silence.

And then she finally started to laugh, so hard, she had to stop walking, her whole body shaking with it.

He stared at her, taken aback. “What?”

“I …,” laugh, “just had a thought.”

“And that was so funny?”

“Way funny,” she confirmed. “I thought ….,” more laughter, “what if Spike had a thing for me?”

Well, he didn't think that was funny at all. Because deep inside he already had had the same thought. The way Spike looked at Buffy, there was more than just casual interest in his eyes. “That's not funny,” he growled.

“Oh,” she tried to catch her breath, but couldn't stop laughing, “I think it's hilarious.”

“No,” he replied firmly, grabbing her shoulders. “It's not.”

“But it is. It is,” she insisted.

“Stop it, Buffy,” he demanded, his jealousy getting the best of him.

“Man, that must drive him out of his mind, a soulless vampire having the hots for the Slayer of all people,” she said, her forehead falling against his chest. “Poor Spike.”

He looked down at her blond crown, and his lips twitched. “Well, if you put it that way. Still,” his scowl was back in place, “I don't like the thought of it.”

At that her head came up, her eyes suddenly dark with passion, “I like you all manly and jealous.”

In response his eyes darkened as well. “Do you now?” His voice was low, rough.

“Hmmm,” she made, licking her lips.

He felt himself harden in an instant. “Buffy,” he hissed, looking around. “That's not really the place to-”

“Oh, stop it,” she pouted, “You're such a bore.”

“A bore, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” she grinned, then shrieked when he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. “And behaving like a caveman is so out.”

“You wanted it,” he replied mercilessly.

“I did, didn't I,” she giggled. In response he laughed.

*

The two vampires who'd been watching them for the last ten minutes, retreated behind a bush, looking at each other in confusion.

“That really was the Slayer?” the first said.

“Yeah. That's her,” the other replied.

“And Angelus?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you really telling me that's the girl who put Spike in a wheelchair?”

“Yeah.”

A moan came from near by, accompanied by a male growl.

“What the hell's wrong with them.”

“They're in love.”

“Love?” The first vampire raised a brow, then shook his head, “Man, I think you're living here too long already. Love? Such a stupid-”

The words died on his lips when a stake suddenly pierced through his heart, and he and his companion turned into dust.

Buffy brushed off her shirt, sighed, “Why do they always have to disturb our privacy?”

“Why don't we call it a night,” he suggested, searching the ground for his stake. “Doesn't seem as if a lot is going to happen tonight.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, taking his hand again, “Did I tell you that mom's in San Francisco until tomorrow night?”

“No. So what are we still doing here?”

“That's what I was asking you,” she replied, giving him a devilish grin, letting go of his hand, starting to run towards his apartment. He easily caught up with her.

They barely made it to his bed.

*

In his apartment, Jenny snuggled deeper into Giles' embrace. The watcher smiled down at her, listened to her even breathing. He thought about his father who once had told him forgiveness was the greatest gift.

Giles closed his eyes. There was no doubt, his father had been a very wise man.

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