Chapter 4: EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED

It was a pain in the ass to be seventeen. Of course the fact wasn't new to Joyce. She'd had the same thought for a while now. Six months to be exact. Ever since she'd become seventeen, two days after her father died.

She had wondered why she couldn't just skip this last year and turn 18 instead.But that wasn't possible and so she had to live through this unnecessary year. And it was the result of not being eighteen that she had to live with Willow and Tara, their daughters and her own younger siblings instead of being able to have her own apartment.

Of course there was her mother she could blame for it as well. If Buffy wouldn't wallow in self-pity and drink herself into some sort of stupor, she would be able to live with her mother. She was a pain in the ass too sometimes, but still better than the two lesbians who were always trying to talk to her. 'We should talk about this, Joyce' or 'I think we really need to discuss this' were their favorite quotes.

And she hated it. God, how she hated being forced to talk about things. All she wanted was to be left alone and live her life. That wasn't much, was it?

Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she waved goodbye to her best friend Valerie and the very last moment she remembered that she had to turn right instead of left, again thanks due to her mother. And of course also to her father, who had just died and left them in this mess.

She quickly blinked the threatening tears in her eyes away and frowned for a moment. She knew it wasn't fair to think that way. But she missed him, God, how she missed her father. His gentle and loving smile, his warm, forgiving eyes, the way he would touch her, the hours he'd spent listening to her, and she even remembered all the times he'd read stories, things she'd been too embarrassed to remember for a long time. And she would gladly, gladly, listen to every stupid story if it meant she'd have him back again.

But of course he wouldn't come back. People didn't just come back from the dead and live again. Sure, there were a lot of creepy things happening in the world, she'd even seen some of them before she became seven years old, had even been forced to believe that vampires existed, but she was old enough to know that things didn't work that way.

And now her mother was gone too. Of course, she wasn't really gone. Buffy was alive and well, but not really there anymore. A part of Joyce didn't blame her mother. The part that liked the fact that her mother was sick over her father's death, that her mother had loved her father so much that she wouldn't go on living without him. But another part also felt jealous, because that part wanted to be loved the same way her father had been loved. She was her mother's daughter for God's sake and she didn't like to see that her father was more to Buffy than her own children.She startled when she heard someone talking to her and she looked up and into the face of a stranger, who was gazing at her from his car. "Yes?" she asked.

"Excuse me," he said, and smiled, and God, he had a killer smile. "I think I'm somewhat lost. I've been to Sunnydale years ago but there are so many new streets and houses and, well" he laughed a little and Joyce felt her knees go weak at that laugh, "I'm looking for Blueberry Lane. Do you know where it is?"

"What? Oh, sure, Blueberry Lane. That's where I live too. You drive straight ahead and then turn at the second left. You can't miss it." She finished her description with her best beam. "Are you going to live there?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm going to see an old friend."

"Oh," she nodded, trying not to sound too disappointed. "But maybe," she added, "you'll be staying for a while?"

He flashed her another smile, "Maybe. It depends."He didn't elaborate that, but it was just as well. "Well, maybe we'll see each other again," she said hopefully.

"Who knows," he replied with a noncommittal shrug. "Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome," she said, but he was already driving away. "Oh Holy Jesus," Joyce breathed and fanned her face with her hand. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was racing a mile a minute, her knees transformed into jelly.

"Who was that?"

Joyce almost jumped out of skin at the sound of her best friend's voice. "Valerie," she almost shouted. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone home."

"Jeez," Val shook her head, "Sorry. But I saw you talking to this extremely handsome guy in that very expensive car and forgive me that I just wanted to know who the hell my best friend was talking to."

"It was nothing. He wanted to know how to find Blueberry Lane," the blond told her. Joyce had the same blond hair like her mother. But that was where the resemblance ended. Where Buffy was tiny, her daughter was tall. With five foot ten, Joyce was taller than most of the girls, and before her curves had begun to fill out she'd often been mistaken for a boy.

To her size and the blond hair, she had her father's blue eyes and the shape of her face was a mixture of her parents. Valerie had even suggested, Joyce should think about becoming a model and although the idea flattered her, the blond had never contemplated it. She didn't like to be photographed and besides, she'd long decided that she wanted to be a doctor. And if she managed to keep her grades up, she would stick to it.

"Oh sure," Valerie shot her an incredulous glance that turned to open shock when she realized that Joyce was telling the truth. "He really asked you directions." She sighed deeply. "What a bummer. You didn't, by chance, ask for his name?"

"No," the blond replied, but a smile played around her lips. "But he said he'd visit a friend at Blueberry Lane. So what do you think are the chances that we might see him again?" And maybe, she thought, life didn't hate her that much after all.

*****

Buffy took a deep final breath and straightening her aching spine she scanned her apartment with satisfaction. It was done. She was tired, sweaty, and dirty and her bones were aching from all the cleaning, washing and dusting, but she had finally managed to get the apartment in a presentable state. There were clean clothes in her closets and drawers, and the underlying foul smell she hadn't even noticed for the last six months was almost gone.

She had worked like a mule for the last 18 hours, right throughout the night, and was ready to drop from exhaustion, but she couldn't remember when she'd last felt so content with herself.

Now all she needed to feel human again was a hot bubble bath, a good book and a drink and... Stopping her thoughts right there, she was too stunned to move for a second. She hadn't even been thinking about a drink for the last 18 hours. She turned slowly and looked at the untouched bottle of Bourbon that was standing in the middle of her table. She'd found it under her sofa while cleaning the living room and remembered that she'd noticed it was missing a few days ago.

God, but she wanted a drink right now. Now that all the work was done, the memories, the pain and the guilt would come back, now that there wasn't anything she could do anymore to stop herself from thinking. No, she decided, she wouldn't take a bath, she would just jump under the shower instead. Having come to that decision she tore her clothes from her body and when she emerged from her shower half an hour later, she felt like a human being again. She was wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, the one she'd just washed tonight and a clean towel enveloped her wet - and now clean - hair. She had needed to wash it four times. Thinking back on it, she still felt a slight shudder of disgust. God, she hadn't even noticed what was going on with her. She'd looked like a bag lady, not like Buffy Summers, ex-slayer and mother of three children.

Buffy Finn, she reminded herself quickly with a little stab of guilt. Funny, how she never saw herself as Buffy Finn. It was just a name, but it was significant and one more of the hard truths she hadn't been able to face the last months. But no more. Her mother was right, or whatever that thing was, that looked, spoke and smiled like Joyce Summers. There would be no more running away from the truth. The shock of hearing about Marlie in the hospital still sat deep and even more did Willow's refusal to let Buffy come with her to see her own daughter.

Food, she reminded herself, breaking away from that painful train of thoughts. She'd actually managed to order a pizza earlier and now she put it into the microwave to re-heat it. She'd wanted to cook but one look into her fridge had told her that there was nothing in it besides wine and beer. Buffy couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten properly. There had been no need to buy food for Spike because, well, he didn't eat.

A glimpse into the bathroom mirror had told her that she'd grown painfully thin, bony even, her face was hollow, and under her eyes she'd found dark shadows. She made a mental note to apply some makeup before she left the apartment to fill her fridge.

Pulling the pizza from the microwave she poured herself a glass of water and was on her way to the sofa when the doorbell rang. Sighing she put plate and glass down and walked over to the door. She wasn't really dressed for visitors, but at least her apartment was clean now and compared to her yesterday appearance even being clothed in a bathrobe and towels was like wearing the crown jewels. Oh well, maybe it was Willow, she thought while she reached for the doorknob. Then she could see for herself that her friend was making an effort to get things back on track.

With that thought firm in her mind, she pulled the door open and her heart stopped. Tightening her hold on the handle so that her knuckles went white, she managed only one word, "Angel."

"Buffy," came his reply, and she had to grip the handle even tighter. His voice was so achingly familiar, and the way he said her name, almost breathless, a bit afraid, as if he could hardly believe she was really there.

She felt her breath catch in her throat, felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest. "Oh God," was all she managed to say.

A little half-smile appeared on his lips, and it propelled her right back in time. She remembered times and places when she'd seen that smile, had been dying to see it soften his much too somber features. Had marveled in the fact that she had been the cause for that smile sometimes. "No, still only an Angel," he said and instantly grimaced at his own bad joke. "Sorry, that wasn't really funny. Can I come in?"

As if she was in trance, she stepped back to invite him in and watched him proceed towards the living room. He moved with the same fluidity, the same stealthy grace she remembered. He didn't look a day older than the last time they'd met. Of course she hadn't expected him to look older. He was a vampire after all. A vampire who moved into her living room, then stopped and turned towards her, sun shining right on his back.

"Oh God," she said again and felt her body begin to tremble. "You don't burn," she remarked, staring at him. "You don't burn," she repeated in an incredulous whisper.

He smiled then. Not the half-smile from before, but a full, all-teeth smile, a smile she had never seen before on him and it was breathtaking. "No, I don't. Only vampires burn, human beings don't."

"Hum-" her voice died and her eyes rounded even more. "Oh my God." It was an almost painful moan, and she swayed on her feet for a moment, but when she saw him moving towards her, she held out her hand. "No, don't touch me."

Angel felt as if she'd struck him, but she looked at if she'd been struck herself. As he watched she seemed to crumble. Her shoulders hunched, she curled her arms protectively around her own body and the trembling changed into a real shaking. "Oh my God," she moaned again.

This went on for some minutes, but suddenly, her body underwent a transformation, her spine straightened, her arms loosened. She swallowed and blinked several times. "When?" she finally managed to ask.

"Several months ago," he replied, keeping his distance. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her, but there was no way he could do that right now. He pointed at the bottles on the table, "I would vote for something to drink, but given the circumstances, I think it's better not." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew it had been the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't take them back now.

But Cordelia had told him about her meeting with Willow and when he'd called the redhead this morning she'd been so concerned, he hadn't been able to think about anything but Buffy's drinking problem the whole way from L.A. to Sunnydale. Well, that and the fact that Riley was dead. He had hardly been able to believe her, when Cordelia had given him the news.

"What?" Her voice was sharp, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You're white as a sheet," he explained. "Usually you offer people something to drink to calm her nerves," he said, hoping against hope, she would forget about his lapse. But he saw her eyes narrow even more and sighed, "Okay, so Cordelia talked to Willow and then I talked to Willow and she was really concerned about you."

"Oh, I see," her voice heavy with sarcasm, "And so you had to come and help the poor drunken Buffy. Well, I'm pleased to tell you that I haven't even touched a drink today."

"That's good." His voice was soft. Incredibly soft. And warm. She had to close her eyes for a moment. How she had missed hearing that voice.

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at him, "Why are you here? I mean it's a bit surprising. After all I haven't even heard from you for about ten years."

He didn't look away, he didn't even try. In fact his eyes were locked with hers, when he said, "You know why I left." And of course she did. They had never talked about all this, but she had known nevertheless. "I heard about Riley," he continued. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she replied stiffly, not wanting to go there, not ready to face this, her deepest, darkest guilt.

"Willow told me it was quick. He didn't really suffer."

"No," she slowly shook her head, "he didn't suffer. One morning he woke up with a fever and when it didn't go away he went to the doctor. Then to the hospital and he never came home again. It was over in four days." Her voice was flat and bare of emotion telling him about Riley. "But I'm not going to discuss my late husband with you."

"It's not why I came," he replied gently. "I just," he shrugged, "wanted to see you, I guess."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why?" he echoed. Because I love you, because I never stopped loving you, because I'm human now and Riley's dead and we've got a chance now, if you give us one. Because I was desperate each single day without you. Because thinking about you and Riley together, having children, being happy, made me want to scream. But of course he couldn't tell her that. She had, after all, lived 20 years with Riley. She had three children with him and she had loved Riley. Maybe even more than she had loved him. She had told him so, she might have been angry then, but he'd believed her nevertheless. Buffy wasn't a person who used the word love lightly.

"We were close once," he said instead. "And I thought, maybe you could use my help."

"Your help?" She shook her head, the towel loosening and falling down. Her still wet hair cascaded down. It was shorter than he remembered, but still long and Angel wanted to touch it. Wanted to bury his face in it and inhale her scent. God, he had missed her. Her next words, however, shattered any hope that this was going to happen somewhere in the near future, "I don't need your help, Angel. I managed without you very well. There is no need for you to play my savior. Take your humanity and whatever there is, and go. If you came for me, you came in vain."

"Buffy, I-"

"No. Leave. Now." She was holding up barely and no way she would break down in front of him.

"I'll be staying in Sunnydale for a while," he said then, reaching into his pocket. "If you want to talk or just see me, give me a call." He put a little business card on her table. "I would like to met your children. And I'm not just going away. If you don't call, I'll be back in a couple days. You won't get rid of me that easily."

His voice was gentle, but there was a subtle warning in it. And she knew it then. He meant it. He wouldn't just leave. He wouldn't let her hide from terrible, dark truths. And more than anything she feared the truth. And coming face to face with her own weakness.

She heard the door close behind him and with a last glance at his card on the table, she sunk down on the floor and cried.

Chapter 5: ARE YOU STILL MY FRIEND?

Buffy felt like crap the next morning - physically. She had cried until well after midnight and then fell asleep right on the living room floor, where she'd found herself in the morning. Her hair was standing up all in different directions so that she had to wash it again. It was just as well. After the neglect of the last six months it could use another styling.

But she felt better than she had in a long time too - mentally. Yesterday after she'd cleaned her apartment she had thought she felt good, but today after all her misery, grief and guilt had broken through, initiated by Angel's visit, she felt somehow lighter. She hadn't allowed herself to cry in a long time, and now she realized how wrong this was.

In fear of breaking down the moment she let her emotions surface she had drowned them in alcohol. Feeling numb had been better than feeling pain. And she felt that pain last night. It had been pouring out of her with each tear, with every sob and that adding to the exhaustion she'd already been feeling from all the cleaning and washing had let her fall into a dreamless sleep. For the first time since Riley died there had been no nightmares.

She stepped from the shower, again wrapped in fluffy towel and bathrobe, and her eyes darted to the still untouched bottle of liquor on the table. She still hadn't touched it. Two and a half days and she hadn't touched it. She licked her dry lips, trying to find a taste for it. And failed.

She didn't even try to stop the gasp that came from her lips. It was like a lightening shock. A good shock, but still a shock. Two and a half days and she still had absolutely no urge to drink. She shook her head in disbelief. She was hungry though, and thanks to Angel and the emotional turmoil his visit brought she'd completely forgotten about food.

Pulling the towel from her hair she walked back into the bathroom to comb and dry it. She headed to the bedroom to search through her drawers and closets for clothes only to realize that nothing fit anymore. She'd grown so thin that even the trousers that had been bought to fit tight only eight months ago were hanging loosely. Oh well, it had to do since there was nothing else she could wear. To prevent the pants from slipping down she used a leather belt she found in Joyce's room. Wasn't the baggy look fashionable anyway?

She even found her purse after a quick search and stuffing her keys into her pocket she left the house, and smiled at the California morning sun. She had really missed it and also remembered the shocking lack of tan on her face this morning. She had decided to see Willow - and talk to her, maybe even to her children. It was Saturday and they would be at home. Well, Joyce and Ben would. Marlie was probably still in the hospital.

At the thought of her youngest child, Buffy experienced a sharp pang of guilt. The picture of Marlie lying alone and frightened in a hospital bed hadn't let go ever since Willow had told her about it. Buffy took a deep breath. It was something she couldn't change. She couldn't turn back time and change the fact that she'd been a horrible mother to her child. All she could do was try to make up for it.

Reaching Willow's house she took a deep breath to steady herself, but her fingers were still trembling as she reached for the bell. She heard loud footsteps running towards the door and then she was looking into her daughter's smiling face.

"Hi, Joyce."

The moment the girl realized it was her mother standing in front of her, her smile was replaced by a sarcastic smirk, "Mom?" she raised a questioning brow while her eyes ran inquiringly over her mother's form, "What happened? Did you run out of money for booze?"

Buffy swallowed an angry retort. She would accomplish nothing by shouting at her daughter. Joyce was angry, and up to a certain extent she even had a right to be. So Buffy's voice was calm when she said, "I'd like to come in to talk to Willow and Tara if that's possible."

Joyce shrugged, "Sure. It's not *my* home," she said emphasizing the word my. "But Tara left an hour ago with the brats, so it's just Willow and me."

"Joyce, who are you talking to?" came Willow's voice from the inside.

The girl sighed, "Well, come in then." She stepped back and her mother moved past her towards the living room.

Buffy saw Willow's eyes widen at the sight of her, "Buffy?" the redhead asked in utter shock.

"Hi, Will," the blond replied with a sheepish smile.

"If you need me, I'm in my room," Joyce said from behind them and was already running up the stairs.

The redhead wanted to call her back, but Buffy held up a hand, "No, let her go. She's angry right now and I suppose it's partly my fault. I came to talk to you, anyway."

Willow eyed her friend a long moment, and then raised a brow, "So?"

The blond laughed self-consciously, then combed a hand through her hair, "Well, I guess the best start would be to say I'm sorry although that doesn't begin to cover it. But maybe it's a start?" she asked, anxiously waiting for Willow's reaction.

The redhead bit her lower lip as if considering her words, and then nodded, "Alright. Go on."

"I know I... behaved terribly the last months, but..." she stopped, shook her head, then started again, "No, there are no buts, no excuses. I behaved terribly. Period."

"I couldn't agree more," Willow said dryly and crossed her arms. "But why are you telling me that, Buffy? Is there a point to all your... self-knowledge?"

Now it was for Buffy to chew her lower lip, "Angel came to see me yesterday."

"Oh," the redhead raised her second brow. "I see."

"No, you don't," the ex-slayer replied, then shook her head, "or maybe you do. I don't know. He said he talked to you in the morning."

Willow nodded, "He called. I met Cordelia a few days ago. We were talking and she mentioned Angel. They've been in Washington the last ten years," she laughed suddenly, "she's married to Wesley, can you imagine?" Buffy had to shake her head and laugh as well. But the redhead sobered instantly, "I told her to give Angel my love, but his phone call yesterday took me by surprise. I hoped he would call, but I hadn't expected it so soon."

"It took me by surprise as well, believe me." Buffy shook her head again and frowned. "Willow do you believe in ghosts?" she asked suddenly.

At that the redhead grinned, "You're talking to a witch. I think that's a rather unnecessary question. Besides, you were a slayer. Of course I believe in ghosts. They are real. Most people just deny their existence. Why?"

The blond took a deep breath, "Maybe I should start at the beginning. I got drunk on my birthday," she started and when she saw Willow raise a brow she sighed, "yeah, I know. Nothing new there. But then I... uh... saw my mother's ghost."

Willow did a double take, "You what?"

"Uh-huh," Buffy nodded on another sigh, "That's exactly what I thought. And, of course, that I was so drunk that I just saw a hallucination. We talked. The ghost and I. The next morning I forgot about it. My mother... the ghost... she attacked me, not physically, but she accused me of letting go, of giving up. Anyway. In the morning it was forgotten.

"Then Spike came for his monthly cup of coffee. I was already half drunk when he arrived and he shouted at me too. When he left I drank even more and woke in the morning with a killer-headache. Then you came."

"And shouted at you," Willow said with a half-grin, slowly understanding where this was going.

"Yeah, and shouted at me," Buffy agreed, "But the difference was, I was sober when you came. And I felt bad. For a moment I felt bad because of Marlie, but I turned around and there was that self-pity again, that life was unfair, you know. And then my mother... her ghost... returned."

"You saw her twice?" the redhead asked, curiosity rising in her.

"Yeah," the blond confirmed, "And she told me some things I didn't want to hear. At first I tried to ignore her, but that didn't work. So I listened. I think for the first time in six months - or rather in years - I listened to things I didn't want to hear. Didn't want to face. And then I went into action, I cleaned the house, I washed all my clothes, I washed me-"

"I noticed that," Willow interrupted with a grin. "You smell a whole lot better now. But you have to gain some weight."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "I had to look in Joyce's room for a belt, mine were all too long," she admitted on a little laugh, that almost turned into a sob out of relief. God, maybe she was able to live again. Maybe she would be able to conquer all her fear and guilt. Maybe... "Anyway," she took a deep breath, "I had just ordered a pizza and was about to eat it when Angel suddenly stood on my doorstep. But that wasn't all. He didn't just stand there. He... he's human, Will."

The witch did another double take, "He's what? Oh my God."

"Exactly my reaction. And - oh God, Willow, it was horrible. He... I couldn't face him. I couldn't even look into his eyes. All the shame I felt, all the guilt, it overwhelmed me. I threw him out."

"You threw him out?"

"Yeah," Buffy confirmed with a single nod. "I couldn't face him. When I saw him there, standing in the sunlight, I couldn't stand it. He left and I broke down. I bawled my soul out almost all through the night. But I feel better now. Not well, you know, but better. And," she added with pride, "I didn't drink for two whole days."

"That's great," Willow said enthusiastically and Buffy had to smile. Trust Willow to push your self-esteem. "And he just left? Just like that?"

"No, not really," the blond admitted, "he left his card. He said I should call him, that he wanted to meet the kids and... that if I didn't call him, he would be back. You should've heard his voice. He meant it Willow."

"Well, good for him," the redhead said with a nod.

"Willow!" Buffy stared at her friend in confusion.

"Yeah, well," her friend, replied, "It was time that someone forced you to face reality. And I don't care if it is your mother's ghost or a human Angel..." she stopped and seemed to consider it, "A human Angel," she mused, "I always wondered how he would look in the sunlight."

"He looks great," the blond said, and then grinned sheepishly at her friend. When Willow grinned at well, Buffy let out a little laugh, "He really does, you know. He doesn't look a day older and... God, he's so handsome. I'm forty years old, and he doesn't look a day older than twenty-six."

A little knowing smile appeared on Willow's lips and Buffy held up her hand, "Don't even go there, Willow. I know what you're thinking."

"Thinking?" the witch's face was all innocence, "What would I be thinking? I'm thinking nothing. Absolutely nothing. So he's still handsome, huh?"

Buffy gave her the evil eye, but let it go, "Yes, he's still handsome. But that's *so* not the point. The point is that I'm finally seeing what I was doing to myself and that I'm going to try to... make amends, I suppose."

"Oh, Buffy", Willow said, half-laughing, half-crying, she stood up and was about to embrace her friend.

But the blond held out a hand, "No, don't. It's been only two days. No need to celebrate yet. Let's wait a little bit longer. But I would like to see Marlie, Willow. How is she? Is she all right? Would you come with me?"

The redhead's smile was warm and she hooked her arm under Buffy's, "Of course I'm going with you. Marlie will be thrilled. She's doing great. She's a tough little girl. So no worries. But first of all I'm going to get you something to eat. You're so thin, a breeze would blow you away."

The two women laughed and made their way to Willow's kitchen, unaware of the fact that a seventeen-year-old girl had heard every word of their conversation.

Chapter 6: THE TRUTH HURTS

Buffy's thoughts involuntarily wandered back to the last time she's been in a hospital. Six months ago she had listened to a doctor who'd explained her that Riley was in a coma and wouldn't wake up again. It had been another of those experiences that had taught Buffy that hospitals were bad, evil actually. And the thought of her little daughter alone inside of such an evil institution made her insides churn.

Guilt settled in her guts again when she entered Marlie's room at Willow's side, but it vanished instantly when her daughter became aware of her presence and a beam appeared on her pretty, little face, "Mommy," Marlie cried and reached out for her.

"Marlie, darling." She was at her daughter's side and had her small body in her arms the next second. "Oh, Marlie, my baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you," she said and held her daughter close. They held onto each other for several seconds, then Buffy carefully pulled back to look at Marlie, "How are you? Are you okay, sweetie? Does your tummy still hurt?"

Wiping her tears away Buffy watched her daughter shaking her head, "No, it's all good now," Marlie announced. "The doctor, her name is Callie, and I can call her Callie, you know. She's neat."

"That's wonderful, baby," Buffy said, stroking a hand over her daughter's soft curls, "So what did Callie say."

"You ought to call her Doctor," she scrunched her little nose for a moment, "or maybe if you're nice she let you call her Callie too."

"Maybe I'm going to ask her," her mother said, smiling. Willow was right, there was no reason to worry. Marlie was certainly well and if she had been frightened in the hospital, it didn't show anymore. "I'm glad you feel all better now."

Marlie nodded earnestly, "Callie said she cut the bad thing out. There was a part inside of me that got... insected," she tilted her head and looked at Willow, whose presence she just now acknowledged.

The redhead didn't mind at all. She was glad that Buffy seemed to crawl out of the hole she'd been digging herself into over the past months, "Infected, love, it's infected."

"Infected," Marlie beamed proudly at her mother. "So Callie cut the thing out. Now I'm all better again."

"That's wonderful," Buffy smiled at her lovingly, "I'm going to talk to your doctor Callie later." Suddenly she saw a book lying on the bed stand beside her daughter, "Oh, did Aunt Willow buy you this book?" she asked, assuming her friend had brought it with her to cheer Marlie up. Silently she thanked Willow for being so thoughtful. She would make it up to her, Buffy promised herself firmly. There would be no more hiding. At least not from the responsibility of caring for her children.

"The book is neat, isn't it?" Marlie beamed again, opening the first page and showing her mother colored pages with pictures that told a story even to children who couldn't yet read.

"Yes, it is," her mother, agreed. She wanted to ask her daughter something as the little girl's attention suddenly shifted towards the door and her beam even widened.

"Mr. Angel," she cried happily. "My mommy says the book you gave me is neat."

Buffy stiffened instantly. Angel. If she had been more attentive to her surroundings, not so distracted by her daughter, she would've known he was there. There was the old tingling feeling in her stomach that came whenever he was near.

"Hi, Muffin," he greeted Marlie and smiled, then more quietly he added, "Hi Buffy. Willow."

"Hi, Angel," Willow said cheerfully, "It's wonderful to see you." She crossed the room and enveloped the former vampire in a fierce hug. Looking up into his face she watched his eyes for a moment, then obviously content with what she'd seen, she smiled, "I think I just have to get used to you being warm and all."

He laughed at that, and Buffy felt her insides knot. "I needed some time to get used to it myself," he replied smiling back at the witch. "I'm glad Marlie likes the book I brought her this morning."

Finally Buffy managed to turn away from her daughter and towards him, "Thank you," she said stiffly. "It was very thoughtful of you to bring Marlie a present. But you shouldn't have."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "It was nothing," he said, deliberately missing the warning in her voice, "I'm glad I could give her something she liked." He came to stand beside Buffy and the bed, then reached out and lightly stroked Marlie's cheek with the back of his fingers. "How are you feeling, Muffin?"

"Fine," the girl replied, beaming again. God, how did he do it, Buffy wondered, how did he manage to get even little girls to drool over him. Damn the man. "I showed the book to Callie. That's my doctor. And she liked it too."

"That's great," he replied smiling. "I hope you'll be soon allowed to go home."

"Callie says tomorrow," Marlie retorted, looking back at her mother. "Can I come home with you then?" she asked.

"Of course, darling," Buffy assured her daughter, moved by the fact that she preferred to stay with her, even after the things she had done or rather not done.

"YAY!" the little grinned at her mother, then hugged her and planted a smacking kiss on Buffy's mouth that brought tears into the woman's eyes. Clearing her throat, the blond turned her head to Willow, "Will, would you stay with Marlie for a moment? I'd like to talk to Angel in private."

"Sure," the witch agreed easily, winking at the former vampire behind Buffy's back. He flashed her a smile in response. He had always liked Willow and although the redhead hadn't always agreed with the way he'd behaved regarding Buffy, she'd always been a supportive friend, had even accepted him back in their circle when nobody else would.

Buffy stood up slowly, carefully avoiding any contact with Angel who was definitely standing too close for her taste. Not bothering to look at him, she said, "Could we talk in the waiting room?"

"Of course," he replied and followed her outside the room and the short distance to the waiting area. The moment they'd stepped inside, however, she whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger, she spat right into his face, "How you dare?" she hissed. "How dare you come and visit my daughter?"

Clearly taken aback by her hostile reaction, but not intending to back down, he held his ground and simply looked at her. And by God, she was still beautiful. Of course she'd been beautiful yesterday too, but he'd been too distracted by the sadness in her eyes, the shadows around them, the exhaustion that had surrounded her, but today with her eyes blazing fire, she simply took his breath away.

She wasn't a girl anymore. She was a grown up woman now. A mother. She'd become the exact woman he'd seen in the girl 25 years ago, the girl that had come down the steps at Hemery. Ever since he'd heard about Riley's death he had asked himself what she would look like. He hadn't allowed himself those thoughts before. Not consciously anyway. During sleep, when the walls were down, when he wasn't able to block her out, he had imagined her. But no imagination came even close to the woman in front of him. She was incredible.

But she was also very angry the moment, "Buffy, I didn't think you would mind. Willow told me that your daughter was ill and I wanted to bring her a present."

She raised her brows mockingly, "Oh yeah? Don't play dumb, Angel. You rarely did things without a reason. After all you were the master of mental torture. I'm sure you remember one or two things from then."

It was a low blow and she knew it, even regretted it for a moment when his face lost all color. But he managed instantly to regain control and Buffy pushed all regrets aside. "No comments?" she asked.

"I think that doesn't earn a comment," he replied calmly. "I wanted to give Marlie a present. Period. I don't need to apologize for that."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she took a deep breath, "I told you yesterday, Angel. I don't want you here. And I certainly don't want you around my children. They're Riley's children, not yours." She knew she was hurting him with her words, but she didn't care. "They were conceived in love. And you're not going to try to destroy their connection with their father by wiggling your way into their lives. You had your chance 22 years ago and you didn't take it. You left me. It was your decision. You have to live with it. Don't involve my children in your twisted plans."

He looked at her long and inquiringly, then shook his head, a sad smile appearing on his lips, "Do you actually believe any of that crap you've been telling me, Buffy?" he asked.

"Crap?" she gaped at him, "You think that's crap? My husband died six months ago. I am his widow, the mother of his three children. Don't you think it's a little bit inappropriate for you to think... whatever you're thinking?"

"No," he said calmly. "It's not inappropriate, and you know it. You've been lying to yourself for so long, you can't even see the truth anymore."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she hissed at him, "I'm not lying to myself. Why should I? I had a wonderful life with Riley and my children. Who are you claiming to know what I'm thinking? How dare you?"

He shook his head slightly, sadly, "The problem is, Buffy, I know you better than you know yourself. Do you want me to show you?" he asked.

"Show me?" she raised her chin haughtily, "How do you want-" The words died when he suddenly bent his head to slant his mouth over hers.

The touch of his lips sent an instant jolt of sensation ripping through Buffy's body. Her lips parted almost automatically and Angel's tongue flicked against hers, and she felt a fierce quiver of a once too familiar yearning.

She knew there were a thousand good reasons why she shouldn't kiss Angel, why kissing Angel was a very big mistake. Right now, though, Buffy couldn't remember any of them. Although a little voice was whispering warnings into her ear, her arms encircled his neck almost by themselves, her body softened, melting against his.

In return Angel deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting deeper, exploring familiar territory, claiming her as his again. Involuntarily she moaned into his mouth, drowning in the sensations his intimate touch awakened in her body, sensations she hadn't allowed herself to remember for a very long time.

Buffy felt the familiar warmth spreading through her body and settling in hidden places between her thighs. She had forgotten the way she instantly responded to Angel's kisses, the way every fiber of her body responded. Her skin felt hot, her head light, her muscles like jelly. When Angel's hand slid down her back, beneath her blouse, caressing her soft skin, she felt it in everywhere. If they weren't in a waiting room in a hospital but in her apartment only God knew what would happen next.

The realization that she was actually contemplating having sex with him, right here and now, was like pouring ice water on her overheated senses. With a strangled sound she pulled her arms from his neck and pushed him away. Oh God, what was she doing? Had she completely lost her mind? "How dare you?" she hissed again, and without thinking slapped him across his face.

He stood there, only staring at her, then again in that infuriating, calm voice, he said, "Stop lying to yourself, Buffy. You're only hurting yourself."

"I'm not lying to myself," she insisted stubbornly,  "I don't need you. I'm happy with my children. Riley's children," she reminded him and herself in the same moment. Oh God, Riley was dead for six months and her body had betrayed her by wanting Angel like that. "I didn't need you for the last 20 years, Angel. And I certainly don't need you now to destroy the memory of a good man I loved."

Angel smiled at her, "You need me alright. And as soon as you're ready to admit it to yourself, I'll be here."

"Can't you understand plain English?" she shouted, desperation entering her voice. "I. Don't. Need. You. I don't even want you. And don't ever come near my children again."

He turned then, but stopped at the door and looked back, gazing into her eyes for a very long moment, "I'm not going away, Buffy," he said before he left the hospital.

Buffy felt herself shiver, even after he'd left. Making her way back to her daughter's room, she could still feel his knowing eyes resting on her. No, she vowed, he wouldn't make her believe that he was still important for her. She wouldn't betray Riley's memory by lusting after Angel. Riley was the man who had loved her, married her, had given her three wonderful children and years of happiness.

But he was also the man whom she had given absolutely nothing in return.

*****

Slamming the door of his motel-room behind him Angel was silently discussing what tattered remnants of a brain he still possessed. Maybe he was just tired, having spent a sleepless night after leaving Buffy in her apartment the way he had. Yes, that had to be the explanation for doing something totally and completely stupid as grabbing Buffy and kissing her like that.

At the moment he should probably count himself lucky that she had just slapped him and not tried to get security to remove him from the hospital.

Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled sharply and opened the small fridge in his room to get a bottle of non-alcoholic beer. It didn't taste like the real stuff, but at the moment he couldn't afford to let his mind be clouded even the tiniest bit.

God, he had to be the single most stupid guy on this planet. Kissing Buffy out of a sudden urge to prove something. Prove, what exactly, he mocked with himself. That she still responded to him sexually? He already knew that. He wasn't a vampire anymore, but you if you've lived more than 250 years, you did pick up a thing or two. After his lifetime-experience Angel felt sure that he could see if a woman was aroused around him or not.Besides. When it came to Buffy, he seemed to have special senses that never failed him. Buffy wanted him. The same way he wanted her. Yet, he should've known better than just to grab and kiss her like some caveman.

Slamming his hand through his hair again, he downed the bottle in large gulps. If he didn't want to do irreparable damage to his long-term plans, he'd better start thinking with his head instead of his dick. In 250 years he should've been able to acquire a little bit of self-control. Buffy was confused and hurting right now, he had to go slow or he would accomplish nothing.

The news about Riley's death had left him completely stunned. For about five minutes. After that his mind and - so he had to admit to himself - his body had gone into overdrive.

When he turned human seven months ago, it had been unexpected. He woke up one morning with the very unfamiliar urge to use the bathroom and only after he'd flushed the toilet he took a moment to think about that unusual occurrence. That had been the exact moment when he realized that something was different. It had taken him another two seconds to notice what it was. Something steady was beating in his chest.

Having experienced the transformation before, on the day that wasn't, he wasn't as stunned as he'd been then. Still, the fact that this time he hadn't been battling a Morah made him believe pretty quickly that this might be the fulfillment of the prophecy Wesley had translated all those years ago. Although, he had to admit, he'd expected it to happen a bit more spectacularly, at least with a bit of lighting and thunder and not just like this.

But then, he wasn't going to look a gifted horse into the mouth. He had done it before, and had regretted it ever since, but not this time. Somehow, strange as it may sound, he felt that he had really earned it. Not only had he conquered Darla, Wolfram & Hart and other evil challenges. He had also given up the only woman he'd ever loved. In Angel's book, that was enough to earn redemption.

Realizing what he was thinking he remembered that he'd laughed out loud, feeling free for the first time since Darla had made him a vampire in that dark and dirty alley in Galway, maybe even since before that. He had never really felt free in his days as a human, never being able to accomplish what his father expected from him.

After he'd gotten his soul back, guilt and remorse had almost drowned him and he'd been on the edge of giving up until a blond girl had entered his life and given him a sense and a purpose. Still, even with Buffy in his life, he had never thought it possible to leave his past behind someday.

But somewhere on his way it had happened and when he felt his heart beat that special morning in his bathroom he didn't jump into the air and right through the roof the way he had once expected it. No, he just accepted it, feeling he had rightfully earned it.

Yet, that didn't mean that he knew what to do with his newfound humanity.

Cordelia, of course, true to fashion had tried to get him hooked up with some woman or rather girl, because he still looked the same age he'd been when he'd turned into a vampire, which was 26. And although some of the women Cordelia had chosen for him were pretty, some of them even beautiful, he hadn't been interested in them.

Sure there had been one or two purely sexual encounters. After all he'd thought Buffy to be out of his reach, forever happily married to Riley Finn, and he was just a man, but they had left him empty and aching for the real thing.

So when Cordelia had called him from L.A. to tell him about Riley's death he'd literally jumped into the first available plane and rushed to her. And he'd been thinking about this. Cordelia hadn't just told him that Riley was dead but also that Buffy seemed to take it hard, that she was drinking heavily and that Willow had called it very bad.

Very bad coming from Willow, the person who always tried to find the good in everything, had made the hairs in his neck stand up straight. He had called her himself and what she had told him had made him drive down to Sunnydale without thinking twice. Buffy was falling apart and she needed him. The last time, shortly after Dawn had died, she had been in a bad shape as well and Angel, knowing that he couldn't give her what she needed, had swallowed his jealousy and called Riley to the rescue. But this time, things were different. He was human now, and there was no curse, nothing that could keep him from her side.

Experience of working with people in similar situations to Buffy, had made him expect her hostility. He'd known that she wouldn't greet him with open arms, that she wouldn't want him here. After all, she'd loved her husband. As much as it hurt him, he had to accept the fact and a part of him was glad that she'd found a satisfying relationship and someone who could pull her out of the darkness that seemed so dominant in her life. That had been, after all, the reason why he'd left her. Of course, there was another part of him, that was raging with jealousy, but over the years Angel had learned to live with it. Buffy was a beautiful fantasy, but he had accepted that this particular dream would never come true.

But now, all of a sudden, it was possible, and Angel would be damned if he'd let this opportunity slip from his hands.

The ringing of his cell phone pulled him from his thoughts and he smiled when he saw the caller ID on his display, "Hi Cordy," he said softly, having expected her call much sooner.

"Angel," her voice was equally soft. "How are you?"

There was concern in her voice and he had to smile, "I'm fine. Well, besides the fact that my cheek still stings from the slap I received from Buffy."

There was a moment of silence on the other side, then a gasp and a shocked, "WHAT? She slapped you? That bitch! How-"

"Cordy," he interrupted her. "She had a reason to slap me. I kissed her. Right there in the hospital. And I had absolutely no right to do it."

"You... kissed her?" her voice was surprised. "Boy, you do work fast, don't you?"

He had to chuckle at that, "It wasn't like that. We had an argument and I... well, I suppose I just got carried away for a moment," he sighed, "Anyway. How are Michael and Kathy?"

"Don't try to distract me, Angel," Cordelia said sharply, but there was also fondness in her voice, "They're fine, by the way. They terrorized their father this morning because they wanted to go to the zoo and he was reading some really intriguing book about vampires. Of course they won. They left for the zoo about an hour ago."

"And so you thought you'd use the spare time to call and find out if I'm still sober and not already drowning my frustration in a bottle of Whisky?" he asked only half-joking.

He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line, "Angel I know you love her, but I'm still not convinced that this was your wisest move. I mean, she's been married, she's the mother of three kids, Riley's kids if I may remind you."

He winced and was glad she couldn't see or hear it, "As if I could ever forget that," he replied, his voice neutral. "I know all that. Cordelia it's been a long time since I broke up with her. It's been 22 years to be exact. I couldn't expect her to wait for me. Of course she had a life."

"Yes, mostly because you preferred not to tell her about your Shanshu."

"Cordelia-"

"Yes, yes," she interrupted him impatiently, "I know. We already talked about this and I'm convinced you were right. None of us could know if and when this human thing was meant to happen. But I'm just afraid you're clinging to a false hope." Her voice turned pleading, "I don't want you to get hurt, Angel. I know, you always seem so strong, but I know you. You aren't. You're the most sensitive guy I've ever known. You're hurt easily and you bleed inside where nobody can see it, because you can hide it so well. And Buffy's always been extremely good at finding all the sore spots."

"That's not fair, Cordelia, and you know it," he argued, "I've hurt her plenty of times before. Unintentionally, I know, but still I did it. If she hurt me, she did it because she was hurt herself."

"Oh sure, leave it to you to defend her," Cordelia sighed again, "Okay, do what you have to. I know I can't stop you anyway. But please be careful. I'm not sure if I could stand a broken heart."

He smiled fondly, but then remembered she couldn't see it, "Thank you, Cordelia," he said, "You're a good friend."

"The best," she replied and they both laughed. "Take care of yourself and call us. We want to know what's going on. And if she's being the usual bitch, just come over. Our door is always open for you."

Angel blinked sudden tears away and clicked off his phone with a last good-bye. He turned and looked out of the window onto the bright streets of Sunnydale. Not in his wildest dreams he had expected to ever see them in sunlight and not to shy away from it. This had been a miracle, and not a minor one. If an once evil vampire could turn human after more than 250 years, then other miracles were certainly possible as well. He just had to keep believing it.

Go to Part 7