Rating: umm...I'm thinking along the lines of PG...in the meantime. Who knows what the future might bring:).
Disclaimer: nope, last time I checked, nothing was min e.
Spoilers: well...better safe than sorry: everything up to t he end of season 3 can be spoilery.
Synopsis: I have a strange drive to rewrite season 3 of BtV S. I just don't seem to like the way it ended...beats me why. Anyway, so despite the fact that the original plan was to begin with "Helpless" (that's aroun d the time everything really started getting screwed up B/A-wise), as you can see , plan's changed and I'm going to start with "Anne". If you expect to find in this series events/quotes from the original season....I seriously mean it - I'll try my hardest keeping them to the very minimum. But all in all - it's probably a yet another attempt to end the season on a more "positive" B/A level. See h ow it goes:).
Pairing: the conventional ships: B/A, W/O, C/X. If I decide to torture any/all of them, you'll be the first to know:).
Distribution: ask first.
Feedback: please, yes, please.

Where have you gone
My love, my friend
Somewhere without the rain
I feel afraid now, I feel alone Will we meet again?
Can you recall what we once knew
Somewhere without the pain
I feel afraid now, but not alone
We will meet again I can hear your voice
But you know I fell your soul

- Vast, "We Will Meet Again"

****

He drew his both arms down together to his front and over to his right, and fluently moved his left arm up over his midsection, and crossed his right arm atop his left. Languidly, he stretched his left arm outward, palm up, and his right one over to his side. Crossing his left arm over his right one, he brought his both arms to the front again, and elegantly lowered his joint hands to his waist, palms up, and whilst that motion, for the first time, lifted his gaze, meeting Buffy's fascinated eyes.

Angel froze in his spot, peering at her for a long moment, seemingly unable to break eye contact, then swallowed hard, and lowered his both arms to his sides, averting his gaze.

Buffy drew in a deep breath. "Please," she held up her hand, "don't stop," she requested, and managed a step in his direction, "it was beautiful, I…I had no idea you knew how to do that."

The vampire looked up at her, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent.

He was extremely tired, and weak, she could learn all that only from looking into his eyes. Inwardly, the Slayer contemplated if it was the Tai Chi that had drained him from the little strength he had, or was it that she simply hadn't been attentive enough to notice it before. She couldn't help but wonder at how he had made it all the way to the patio on his own.

Finally, Angel slowly sat down on the nearby brick pew, holding one arm to his side and grimacing in slight pain.

Hesitating at first, Buffy approached the vampire, and sat down next to him on the stony surface. She opened her bag, retrieving something wrapped in brown paper, and handed it to Angel. "It's…for you," she said, "it's…fresh."

He didn't make a move to accept it, but eyed it strangely for a spell, before she spoke again.

"I thought you should…eat," she removed the paper bag revealing a plastic container filled with blood. "If you don't feed, you'll weaken and…" she didn't reach the end in what she meant to say, because that very instant, the vampire snatched the container from her hands and hurled it to the earth, in a startlingly astonishing display of rage.

Buffy gawked at the splashes of crimson on the ground, gasping in incredulity, while the vampire sitting next to her behaved like nothing had happened.

"Why?" she finally managed, when she was able to speak again. "Why?!" she sharply turned to look at him.

He didn't respond, and inwardly, she didn't really expect him to. Another moment of silence, and he stood up, and headed back to the mansion.

The Slayer cast one last look on the spilled blood and groaned quietly, before following the vampire.

****

She found him, as she had known she would, in the bedroom, curled up on the large bed, with his back facing her. Buffy sighed, and dropped her bag to the floor.

It was the middle of the night, and she was tired. Her mother, who had been constantly on her back ever since she had returned, and wanted to know every detail of her daughter's whereabouts, school, slaying and of course, devoting every spare moment to Angel, had recently begun taking their tow on her, thus she was feeling more exhausted with each passing day.

She still didn't want to leave Angel alone for an overly long period of time, but as Willow had once said, she had to. She had no choice, simply because there were things in her life that couldn't be put on hold, especially when both she and Willow were rapidly running out of excuses as to where she was spending that much time on daily basis. And most of all, she was dreading the day when her mother would call Giles, or vice versa, and they would find out she'd lied to them both *and* put them against one another.

So after the first couple of days, during which she was barely seen by anyone other than Angel, Buffy came to terms with the fact she had to make a few changes in her life.

Unfortunately, the only solution she could come up with was chaining Angel up to his bed, to make sure he stayed away from the windows during daytime hours, while she would be at school, or spend a couple of hour at home every now and then, for her mother not to get suspicious.

She hated that arrangement, albeit being the only one there was. Though Angel had never said a word to her, or protested in any other way, or divulged anything but utter indifference to what she was doing, while she was shackling him every morning, Buffy hated it. It would become harder and harder leaving him handcuffed to the bed, and finding him the exact same way hours later when she would return. But despite everything, she still wasn't convinced one-hundred-percent that she wouldn't return to a pile of dust instead, if she let him loose for even one day. For even one hour.

"What is happening to you?" she inquired gently, sitting down on the bed next to him.

He didn't rotate, let alone answered.

"Angel, please," Buffy tried again, "please, tell me…anything. Just say something." She tried to peek over his shoulder at his face, but what she found it impassive. His eyes were blank, fixed on some spot ahead of him. His entire being was manifesting complete indifference, as if she weren't there at all, as if she were thin air.

"I need to know how to help you," Buffy spoke again, and drew closer. "I've been talking to you for days, and I don't even know if you've been listening to anything I've been saying, or at least hearing it, because you never answer back. You never say anything *at all*, Angel," she asserted, brushing a tear away with her hand, "and I can't stand…*this*, if you never talk to me."

Again, he didn't answer. Didn't even give the slightest impression he had heard what she had said.

She waited a few more moments, then emitted a defeated sigh, and reached to retrieve a comforter from the foot of the bed, and cover Angel with it. Afterwards, she kicked off her shoes and lay down on her side behind him, folding her hands by her face.

"You know, the Homecoming dance is tonight," she remarked, then glanced at her watch. "Actually, I don't think it's still on. I was kinda hoping you'd take me there," she smiled sadly, while using one hand to adjust the blanket on his back, "*before* everything…that happened." Buffy suddenly let out a short laugh. "Cordelia set me up with this guy," she broke her speech following that word, seeing as Angel flinched. The Slayer smiled inwardly, and drew closer, inclining her cheek on his broad back and feeling him slightly shudder in response. She lifted her hand to rest it on his shoulder, and continued. "I said 'no', obviously. God, if she only knew," she sighed, breathing in his scent and closing her eyes at the sensation.

"And could you even believe I would get to a point where *Cordelia* would take it on herself to *set me up*, and I would let it pass? She told me it was a consolation prize," the Slayer chuckled. "Apparently, she had that idea I would be running against her for Homecoming Queen, which maybe I even would have done…having been under different circumstances," she added in a whisper. "But anyway, she told me that she's happy I dropped out from a race I was never in, since I had no chance against her anyway, so it's good I saved myself the humiliation. Then she babbled some more, until she reached the point when she got me that Scott guy as a date for the Homecoming dance. You should have seen my face," she sniggered. "Then again, it wouldn't be Cordelia, if she didn't try to run everyone's lives. And besides, as she put it, I *desperately* needed her help. It would have been great to see *her* face when she finds Faith in the limo instead of me. I'm sure Scott will be very happy. Or maybe I'm just not much of a Homecoming-dance-material right now," Buffy shrugged, moving even closer to him and gently nuzzling his back, causing him to shiver again, then sighed. "Or maybe I just have better things to do." The Slayer paused before changing the subject. "Willow asked about you the other day. She asked how you were. I didn't have anything to tell her though. Kinda hard with you not telling anything to me."

She looked up, straight into the Griffin tattoo on his back. "Do you want me to read you something? I know you like it…" When no response followed, Buffy sighed. "You don't have to answer, you can just…nod…or not," she added inaudibly, mild despair creeping into her voice this time.

Angel remained still.

"Okay," Buffy nodded, and rolled on her other side, "good night, then."

A few minutes later, she felt movements on Angel's side of the bed and sat up, just as he did the same. Oblivious to her, he stood from the bed, and silently exited the room.

Buffy did the same, following him to the main hall.

****

She felt a stab in her heart when her eyes lay on him, and not because of who she saw, but because *where* she saw him.

Buffy took a few moments to regain composure over her emotions and obstruct her eyes from tearing up in front of him, and started in his direction.

"Angel," the Slayer whispered his name and moisturized her lips, rocking his shoulder gently until he opened his eyes. "Go back to bed. Don't worry, I…I wasn't…going to stay there," she swallowed hard and shook her head. "I don't want you sleeping on the couch."

Angel gazed at her for a long moment, wanting to say something, but eventually choosing to remain silent. Finally, he stood up from the sofa and headed back to his bed, leaving Buffy standing alone in the room.

****

The Slayer somnolently rubbed her eyes, until her vision cleared up, and the man sitting on the low table in front of the couch materialized before her. She recognized him immediately and sat up, bringing one hand to her forehead and smoothing her hair back. She blinked a few times to become more accustomed to the murkiness of the room, and finally fixed her gaze on him.

"I was wondering when I was gonna see you again," she remarked quietly.

"Well, *I* was wondering when you were gonna wake up," he retorted. "Shouldn't you have this Slayer's-sense-thing kicking in when someone's been watching you *for over ten minutes*?"

"You owe me answers," Buffy told him, paying no attention whatsoever to what he had said.

"And they," Whistler gesticulated at the ceiling, "owe me over-hours, you don't see *me* complaining."

"In a minute, I will," she told him, grinning icily. "Cut the crap, Whistler, and tell me what I need to know. If you wake me up in the middle of the night for this, you better have something useful to tell me, and I *know* you have something useful to tell me. So spill."

"And look who got out of bed!" the demon exclaimed, turning his gaze from Buffy to Angel, who he found standing in the entrance to the room. "And it's not even to burn himself to death. I'm fluttered," he beamed cheerfully. "Care to join us?"

The vampire gave him a long look, then whirled around to walk back into his room.

"Now," Whistler asserted, in a tone that made it clear for Angel it hadn't been a question.

He stopped, and after a moment, turned around, slowly and unwillingly walking over to where the demon was pointing at, which was the sofa.

"Sit," he commanded, and Angel reluctantly obliged. "And stay," Whistler added. "Okay, now," he looked at the Slayer and the vampire in front of him, "to why I'm here. Now, what?" he groaned, seeing Buffy stand up and walk off into the bedroom.

She stopped in her wake and glanced at the vampire, who was still sitting on the couch, with his arms wrapped around himself. "He's cold," she told Whistler and walked on.

A minute later, she returned with a blanket, and wrapped it around Angel's shoulders.

The vampire gulped, and tightened the comforter around his body.

Whistler grinned to himself. "You two are unbelievable," he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "You," he pointed at Angel, "you need help. How do you expect to get it, if you don't ask for it? You have a mouth, use it. And you honestly think that after they brought you back, they're gonna *let* you burn yourself to death the minute you feel like it? So knock it off. And *eat*. Again, if you think for one second you will die if they don't want you to, think again. You'll live, Angel, you don't have a choice. They brought you back because they needed you. They would have brought you back either way, say, a hundred years from now, but I convinced them now was the time," he exchanged a brief look with the Slayer, whose eyes glittered with tender gratitude. "So consider it a favor. As much as I'm sure you enjoyed having the living crap tortured out of you there in every possible way, I think you can also live without it."

Angel shuddered at the memory, and Buffy hesitantly wrapped one arm around him.

"There is a much bigger role than you think for you in the world, my friend. It's called redemption."

The vampire looked up from the floor into the demon's eyes and Whistler grinned.

"Like your Watcher said," Whistler motioned at Buffy, "forgiveness takes time. They didn't want to bring him back so soon," he shook his head, "it wasn't the plan. But they agreed. What they needed in order to do that was merely for you to understand you are *willing* to forgive, to guide him," he gestured at Angel, "towards redemption."

He paused, beholding the couple for a long moment, then sighed. "Now, I don't know what they must have been thinking, not fixing the stupid curse sooner and letting his alter-ego run loose. His original purpose was to protect you," he explained Buffy, who frowned at the discovery. But Whistler didn't have the time to get into it, and his eyes told her exactly that. "His job was to be the protector of the Slayer, the Chosen One. You," he pointed at the blonde. "You were his reason. You should have seen him before I found him and gave him that reason. By helping you, he earned a chance at redemption, something for himself, for a change. But then the two of you went all 'soulmates' and screwed it up. No one had seen it coming, no one had known you wouldn't be able to keep your hormones in check," he looked at the Slayer. "He's a vampire, for crying out loud, don't you have rules against that sort of things?"

She shot him an icy glare, behind which there was a clear warning that her patience with him was running low.

The demon groaned. "They altered the curse," he told the couple, then turned at the vampire. "You can have all the moments of happiness that you want, your soul is yours. You two never made it easy for them, you didn't leave them a choice. It was either that, or splitting you two up, which was out of the question to begin with, because they need you two together." He studied the vampire and the Slayer, to see if what he had said had sunk in. "Anyway," he rolled his eyes, and concentrated on Angel, "they didn't make the same mistake twice, that's the point. Your soul is yours, and try not to lose it in some other way yet unknown to us." He grinned at his own wisecrack, but neither one of his listeners seemed to be in any way affected by it. "Tough room," Whistler muttered under his breath. When he looked back at the couple, his face wore a grave expression. "They gave you a break, kids, a break no one actually deserves, not even you two. You need to prove yourselves worthy of that gift, and in order for you to do that, you have to earn that redemption," he told Angel, "and you have to be by his side when he does," he addressed Buffy. "This journey is not made for only one of you," he stood up, ready to leave, "that’s why it isn't gonna be easy." He looked at the couple one final time, and walked off.

****

Buffy sighed, being the first to break the silence Whistler had left behind him. She acknowledged the tears streaming down her cheeks and brushed them off with the back of her hand, emitting a sound that resembled a tense chuckle, but wasn't quite it. She sniffled, and turned to look at Angel, who hadn't let out a sound the entire time, not that he had been talking a lot before. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, his eyes bore into his lap, and she descried the tears running down his face as well.

"Angel," she sent her hand to rest atop his, but he stopped her, without even looking at her, by holding up his palm, indicating for her not to touch him.

Then he stood up, and headed off to his bedroom.

Buffy nodded, biting her lip, and wiped another flow of tears from her eyes. "Fine," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself and casting her eyes to the floor.

A second later, she sensed someone standing over her, and looked up, right into Angel's eyes.

He didn't say anything, just extended his hand for her, and patiently waited for her to accept it.

She did, letting the vampire help her up to her feet, and he silently led her to the bedroom.

****

Once there, Angel let go of her hand, and lay down on the bed, turning his back to her.

Buffy lingered for several moments, then swallowed, and following his example, lay down too. Angel immediately rolled over, closer to her, and simply rested his head on her abdomen, wrapping his arms around her waist. Though his eyes were now closed, Buffy could still feel his tears moistening the fabric of her clothes.

The Slayer drew in a deep shaky breath, and squeezed her eyes shut, emitting a sob, as she waveringly enclosed her arms around him, combing her fingers through his hair.

"Thank you," she hoarsely whispered to the empty room

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