Disclaimer - nothing's mine.
Rating - most probably show-like.
Synopsis - a sequel to my story "Dream of a Nightmare". *Guess* what happens here. No, really, guess...;)
Spoilers - umm...I'd say everything up to the end of season's 6/3 though there'll barely be any BtVS in this story (the fact I didn't even bother to watch season 6 other than "Bargaining" and "Once More with Feeling" might have something to do with that...), it'll be, like the prequel, AtS-centered. Still, I prefer to be safe than sorry (=later being stuck with having spoilers in my story I didn't warn about).
Pairings - umm...what can I think of...B/A, of course, if we reach up to that point, also F/G, but we'll see. Maybe W/T will be mentioned and same goes for X/A. All depends on the amount of BtVS parts in this fic.
Distribution - please ask?...:)
Feedback - please please send?....:)
NOTE - now, I *really* don't promise I'll finish this one. It's pretty much being written due to popular demand, lol;)

Part 1

"Hey, Willow," Cordelia pulled the witch into a lingering hug almost as soon as she walked through the doors of the Hyperion hotel, and Willow returned it. Though the redhead had only visited the LA gang three times ever since their return from Pylea, the two women had somehow managed to develop a strangely close friendship neither of them had ever thought they could have. The most probable reason for that change was their mutual concern for Angel, of course, but the brunette's change in character and Willow's reacquaintance with said new character also played a large role in it.

"How are you doing?" Cordelia ultimately pulled back, walking back to the front desk, with Willow by her side.

The redhead sighed, but still managed a small smile. "Had better days. Sorry I couldn't come for so long, I don't seem to have time for anything at all lately."

"It's getting harder?"

Willow nodded. "The Buf-"

"Shh!" Cordelia held up her hand to quite her and Willow returned her a slightly confused look. "The B-word rule," Cordelia reminded. "Things might be looking up, but this one still stands. Strict no mentioning of the B-word. Around here, she goes either as Connor's mom, or the Slayer. Or...anything else that springs to mind and makes sense. But never the B-word, that's a big no."

"Oh. Right," the other woman nodded. "I-I was talking about the B...bot, actually, not about the B...B." She let a little momentary frown creep up to her features, as if her struggled to build that sentence was confusing even herself, then shook her head to chase away that thought and return to the point. "It's breaking every Tuesday, and when it's not, it's...it's like it's doing even more damage, because then there's this...thing that looks like her, sounds like her and...isn't her," she finished with a quiet sigh. "Things are pretty tense back home and yeah, it is getting better, in a sense, but at the same time, it's-"

"Not?" Cordelia finished for her with a knowing sad smile. "Same here. I know the feeling. You know, if you guys need help...you know, you could...send Dawn to live here for a while, it could help you get things back on track if you had one less person to take care of."

"I don't think it's such a good idea," the redhead considered thoughtfully. "Having her here and...with Angel, I just don't-"

"He doesn't blame her," Cordelia lay a hand on Willow's arm, looking her in the eyes, "you have to know that."

"I do. But as much as I love Dawn...even I can't help but blame her sometimes," she whispered, her voice reflecting her embarrassment. "And I feel awful, I love her, I-I do, she's like *my* little sister...but every time I look at her, I...somewhere in the back of my head, I remember why Buf-I remember why she's gone. I know he would...for *her* sake, if not anything else, take care of Dawn, but...I don't think that's what he needs at the moment. Yeah, it's hard, but...we've been dealing for almost four months and...we'll keep that up," she smiled, inwardly unsure of whom she was trying to convince, her or Cordelia. "How is he?" came the crucial question.

Cordelia sighed, and looked away. "Well, he...comes out of his room. But...I guess you already know that part since it's been going on for a month or so and all..."

"No actual news?" Willow read the hidden message behind her words.

The former cheerleader shook her head. "Wish there was. For the first...three months or so, he wouldn't take on cases at all, we barely even saw him outside his room. It's like he ceased to exist and him being already dead...I mean the literal sense of the words. But...that you know. It-it's been getting better lately. He's getting back into the business, becoming more active...you know," she made an indifferent gesture with her hand and let it drop against her thigh.

"What about Connor?" the redhead prompted gently.

"He still doesn't let anyone near him," Cordelia replied quickly, "so if you're thinking about maybe getting a hold on him while you're here, I better burst this bubble now before it has a chance to grow. Actually, I'm the only one who ever gets the honor...though I'm suddenly not so sure how that's a good thing," she added softly, looking down from her friend. "He...lets me have him...well, *let* isn't the word I should use, it's a pretty loose term. When he, Wes and Gunn have a case, now that he's working again, he kinda needs someone to stay with Connor and...Fred isn't even a potential option. Anyway, I consider myself lucky he doesn't lock me in a room with him because he sure as Hell made it clear I'm not allowed to turn my eyes away for a second. After he comes back, it's same ol'-same ol' again. He locks *himself* in the room. I'd say overprotective much, but considering everything...I don't know," she released another strained sigh.

"He wants him safe," Willow observed, though she, too, saw Angel's behavior as overly protective of Connor. "He...couldn't save his mother. Him being well...Angel, the fact it wasn't his fault was never a factor here. He doesn't only see Connor as the only thing he's got left, but he's also the only thing he's got left from *her*. He can't afford to make the same mistake twice."

"And now we're sliding into the land of impossible," Cordelia gave her a look. "Yeah, we had our share of trouble after you first brought Connor here, but you should have seen him back then, he was like a killing machine! He hunted down anyone who dared to even *potentially* *think* about ever harming Connor, he got the message through so fast that it took us less than a week to get back to living baby-snatchers-free again. Besides, so why doesn't he let us touch him? *We* don't want him dead. And that aside," she added after a short pause, "there's another problem. Not as much Connor-related, but still a problem."

"What's wrong?" Willow probed anxiously.

"Fred. Nice girl, not leaning towards mental sanity, but nice girl nonetheless. Except for the part where...she's got her puppy eyes allover Angel. He can pretend all he wants he doesn't notice, actually, he *doesn't* notice. Anything. But...well, you get me."

"That's a problem," the witch agreed.

"I tried to talk to her - no change. Obviously, I didn't really...*try*, but...I did my best, considering it's not my business anyway."

"And we all know how that always stopped you," Willow grinned, receiving a playful slap on her arm from the other woman.

"Well, you try talking to her," Cordelia suggested.

"Cordy, I don't even *know* the girl, I only saw her like....one time? I can't discuss Angel's love life with her!"

Cordelia inhaled a sigh of reluctant acknowledgement. "Well, somebody has to. It can't go on like this, not now. Whenever I look at him, it looks like...he only just lost her yesterday. And Fred drooling allover him isn't helping the picture. I don't know what to do."

"Where is he now?" the redhead asked, changing the subject due to lack of answer to supply her friend.

"Take a stab at it," the brunette glanced up the stairs. "Gunn and Wes are out, handling a case, but seeing as he was told but didn't show anyway, my wild guess is he decided to stay in for this one. It seems more and more it's turning into a Wesley-Investigations," she grumbled, walking around the counter back to her laptop. "By the way, it's good you're here, I kinda need your help with some stuff," she nodded at the screen, "you mind?"

"Can we have a rain check?" Willow's eyes wandered up the stairs. "I think I'll push my luck anyway."

The ex-cheerleader shrugged. "Be my guest, give it your best shot." She flashed her a weak smile. "See you back down here in five minutes."

"Not hopefully," her friend murmured to herself as she slowly ambled up the stairs.

"Willow?" Cordelia hissed her name, and hurried after her. When Willow stopped, she leaned closer and whispered. "Is there any news? About the...*thing* I'm not supposed to say aloud?"

The witch let out a sigh of disappointment, answering her even before speaking the words. "Nothing. I keep trying. I *will* keep trying. But so far, nothing."

* * * * *

Willow brought up a shaky hand and hesitantly neared her knuckles to the door in front of her. She knocked once, but even her ears barely managed to pick up the sound. After another moment, she repeated the act several more times, this time putting more resolve and effort into it, but even then, after she waited for a couple of minutes, there came no answer from the inside. "Angel?" she called softly, but again, the same - no reply came. "Angel?" she tried one final time, raising her voice just a little bit, but it still brought the exact same results as all her previous attempts. She swallowed, casting her eyes down on the knob, where her hand soon lay. A moment later, and she turned it and opened the door. Quietly shutting it after her, she stepped into the room.

* * * * *

With a sigh of relief, Willow's eyes soon found the reason why she was never invited in. The vampire lay on his unmade bed, appearing to be in deep sleep. He was fully dressed in his traditional black that only came to enhance the even more than normally pale texture of his skin. On his chest was prone Connor, also asleep, protectively wrapped in his father's arms. Willow smiled at the picture, but her smile disappeared the moment her eyes rested upon the photograph of the blonde Slayer, that was fixed in a white frame and stood on the nightstand adjoining to the bed.

She came closer and picked it up, careful not to wake the sleeping father and son. Buffy's face smiled at her from the photo and Willow returned her a smile of her own. The redhead glanced at Angel and Connor from the corner of her eye and looked right back at Buffy's face. "I'll bring you back," she whispered to the picture. "I promise. I'll find a way. Too many need you here." Her free hand subconsciously traveled to rest on Connor's head, but before it could touch it, Willow's breath was caught in her throat and the photograph slipped out of her grip and crashed to the floor when an iron clasp closed on her wrist and a sharp blade turned up at her throat simultaneously.

A strangled cry escaped her lips and her frantic eyes locked with Angel's, who seemed to only just recognize who she was. "God...I-I'm sorry," he muttered, unclasped his hand from around her wrist and returned the dagger to its place under the pillow on the empty side of the bed. Cradling the baby, who only released a small yawn and went back to sleep, to his chest, he sat up. "I'm-I'm sorry, I-I was..." his voice trailed off as his eyes fell on the shattered glass from the broken frame by his bed.

The witch followed his gaze and quickly bent to clean everything up. While she was clearing the glass, Angel, holding Connor securely with one arm, leaned down and retrieved the photograph, which now had a tiny scratch, most probably caused by the sharp glass, visible across the Slayer's cheek. "I-I'll get you a new one," Willow promised when she saw what he was looking at.

Angel swallowed hard and put the picture aside on the nightstand, face down. "It's just a picture," he whispered. "I have many pictures."

Willow studied him for another moment, then nodded, somewhat reluctantly and went to look for a trashcan to throw away the pieces of glass. By the time she was back, the vampire was already up and on his feet, still cradling the baby to his chest with both arms.

"I..." the witch held out her hand, but when it came too close to Connor's back, Angel slightly pulled away from her reach, averting his eyes from her momentarily. She took the subtle hint and decided to keep her hands to herself from now on. "I just dropped by to see how you were."

"You drove two hours to see how I was," Angel corrected her, then smiled slightly. "You don't have to do that, Willow, I'm fine."

"Well," she cleared her throat. "You don't *look* fine, if you don't mind me saying."

"Then maybe I do."

"Do...what?"

He sighed, and turned to walk towards the baby's crib, with the redhead in tow. "I just...I meant that you don't need to worry about me," he said, placing a soft kiss on his son's brow and putting him down in his bed. "I can deal." He covered Connor with a white fluffy blanket and after taking a moment to make sure he was still sound asleep, gently touched Willow's arm, indicating her to follow him someplace away where they could continue talking.

"I-I know," she replied, her voice wavering, clearly he wasn't very convincing. "I was just...worried. Giles says hi," she grinned, not very convincing herself.

The vampire glanced up from the tea he was preparing them both. "Does he?"

"Well," she stammered, "he did...kinda. He did...want to know how you were. A-and Connor..."

"I appreciate it," Angel said, the tone of his voice a little too down to business, but inside, Willow knew she could hardly blame him. Not that he had made any effort to maintain contact with Sunnydale, but they were the ones who should have been checking on him. And so far, she was the only one who had ever come to Los Angeles in the almost four months that'd passed ever since her death.

"Do you...think I can help with...something?"

"No," he simply said.

"I can see that...you're taking care of him. And you're doing great, you really are." She waited another moment until he got the message and turned to look at her. "But who is taking care of you?"

He smiled, offering her her cup of tea, which she accepted, and sipping from his own. "I *think* that with t-the...Slayer...not being...with no Slayer, you have enough work as it is. Certainly more than enough not to waste time by coming here."

"I'm not wasting my time," she put a hand on his arm, making him look at her. "Yeah, things are pretty stressed up now in Sunnydale, well - tough. Aren't they always. If you can't bring yourself to believe I'm doing it for me, or because I care about *both* you and Connor, at least try to believe I'm doing it for B-*her*. I know she would want me to-"

"Yeah," he cut her, looking away to keep her from seeing the flash of anguish in his eyes. "She would."

"What?" Willow didn't understand.

The vampire walked back to his bed and opened the top drawer of his nightstand. Fumbling inside, he soon pulled out a white sheet, neatly folded in half and wordlessly handed it to the witch. Quizzically studying the vampire who was doing everything to avoid her gaze, Willow took it from his hand and let her eyes skim over the written. Angel didn't look at her the entire time, knowing in advance her eyes would start tearing up at some point and he knew it would be more than enough to maybe break him as well. That was something he couldn't allow to happen, not in front of others, anyway, even not in front of Willow. Especially not in front of Willow, it would be one more thing for her to worry about...

"W-who...who is L-lorne?" she asked after a while, returning Buffy's letter back into the drawer it'd come from. She was trying her hardest to maintain a steady tone to her voice, in spite of the threatening flow of tears behind her eyes. She couldn't let herself break, not in front of Angel. He didn't need that, not now...

"He's a demon...a-a friend," he replied. "He has a Karaoke bar downtown, called the Caritas. People and demons come there to help them find their path. He can read into your soul when you sing and he can set you on the right way for you."

"Can he," the witch whispered quietly to herself.

Part 2

"Thanks for showing me the way, Cordy," Willow stopped her walk just as they were about to cross the street opposite to the entrance to the Caritas.

"Sure, no problem," Cordelia stopped beside her, clearly getting the witch's silent message that was as far as she was coming along. "I still don't get it why we lied to Angel about the whole thing, why couldn't you just tell him where you were going? Hell, maybe he would even drive you over here instead of us having to *walk*..."

"Cordy," the redhead halted her babbling."I couldn't tell Angel."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you. I just need to do this...something. On my own, preferably. But since I didn't know the way, I needed one of you guys to show me and you were the only one available. Like I said, Angel didn't count. He...can't know."

Cordelia nodded, sighing, then slightly pulled at Willow's sleeve. "Is it...about...you know? The *thing*?"

"I don't wanna say anything," she refused resolutely. "It could be everything, just like it could be nothing, so...I don't wanna say anything. The less people get their hopes all high, the better."

The former cheerleader nodded again, letting go of her friend's shirt. "Just...please...try your best, okay? I-I'm not getting my hopes high," she hastened to add, holding her palms up, "I just...don't wanna see him like that anymore. Angel needs her, and...Connor is just a baby, he needs his mom. Angel maybe thinks he's invincible, but he's not. And deep inside, he knows it. Everyone has a breaking point, even...even he. And he *can't* keep doing it alone."

"I'll try," Willow smiled reassuringly, trying to persuade both of them. "Never turn down an even remotely potential help source, that's my motto. And maybe...I can get a lead here, after all. See you later, okay?" She started walking away towards the club, but after she'd only done a few steps, Cordelia made her stop.

"Hey!" She ran up to her, grinning. "Can I hear you sing?"

Willow gave her a long disbelieving look. "*Not* in this lifetime, Cordy. I still have my stage fright, and that together with the fact I absolutely *can't* sing, doesn't add up to a great promising performance."

"Oh, well," the brunette slightly shrugged her shoulders. "I tried, can't blame me for that. See you back in the hotel. You'll...find the way back on your own, right?" At Willow's nod, she added, "Oh, and Lorne...he's the green one with the...horns. Don't let him freak you out, because he has a tendency to do just that. But once you get to know him, he's...weird-kinda-nice," she grinned, waving Willow off with a quick gesture of her hand, and turned to go.

* * * * * *

By the time she was nearing the Hyperion hotel, Willow was still immersed deep in her thoughts. Her experience in the Caritas with Lorne was everything but ordinary as it was, but in a sense she was almost expecting exactly what she got. So she wasn't too surprised. As terrified as she was from the idea alone of singing Karaoke, it eventually went quite well, there wasn't a single demon who booed her, no matter how awful she knew her performance was, and Willow had to inwardly chuckle at the memory. It certainly was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience for her and she also hoped it would remain *once* in a lifetime. Lorne was nice. Weird, like Cordelia had said he would be, but still nice. Willow soon reached the conclusion he, too, was a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon, only unlike her singing, in the strictly good sense.

What he'd told her though still stood fresh in her memory, it still disturbed her, if not for any other reason, for the simple fact it was everything but clear. To her, anyway. All he had to tell her was that her friend was lost, and that it was up to her to find her. But find her where? How? She had to find her, *and* bring her to the place she was needed the most. What had he meant by that? It didn't make sense to Willow. At least one good thing came out of it, one that definitely couldn't be interpreted as bad news of any kind. He had said the place she was in was a good place. Was it Heaven...that Willow didn't know. Besides, what exactly *was* the correct definition of Heaven anyway, in a universe that had several Hell dimensions? But whatever it was, that place was good, that was what Lorne had said - good. That was all that mattered. Now, how was she going to bring her back? And even more importantly...if that place was so good...would she even want to come back?...

Willow stopped right in front of the glass doors leading into the lobby of the hotel, suddenly finding herself unable to proceed any further. Yes, she had promised Cordelia she would come back, but coming to really think of it, what did she really have to do there now? After the five minutes it would take to help the ex-cheerleader with whatever problems she had on the computer, which could also be done over the phone later, what use would it be to stay there? Angel had been nice, as nice as he could or would be in his state, but he clearly didn't need her there, or at least did a pretty good job showing her he didn't need her, or anyone, for that matter. So she couldn't help him with Connor like she'd planned to. What she could do though, was go back home and get Tara to help her make the best of the small hint she'd gotten from Lorne. It must mean something, and she could even recruit Xander and Anya for the team thinking - four minds always worked better than one, that's for sure. She would be of much more use back in Sunnydale working on the same thing she'd been secretly working on for nearly four months, than here in Los Angeles playing Cordelia's computers' tutor. Setting her mind on a decision, Willow drew in a deep breath and nodded to herself in resolve. Nearing the highway, she started walking the way she'd come, holding out her hand, hoping to catch a cab as soon as possible.

* * * * * *

"Yo, we're back!" Gunn shouted, as he and Wesley entered the hotel.

"Can you *not* do that?!" Cordelia hissed, walking over to meet them. "Baby. Sleep. Hello?!" she slapped his arm and sharply gestured to the second floor. "Stop shouting, because when *he* wakes up, your head will regret it! Drop that, *my* head will regret it. Badly."

Gunn gave her a look and rolled his eyes, flopping on a couch and dropping a bloody axe next to him on the floor.

"I get it everything went okay?" the brunette scanned the two men with her eyes.

"Not for the demons, it didn't," the African-American reported, propping one hand on his elbow to support his tired head. "How's the used-to-be-boss doing? Came out of his room today?"

"Hardly," the former cheerleader reported back. "I haven't checked on him...Willow did though, she dropped by. She should be back by now..." she trailed off, checking her watch.

"Ah, yes, we saw her," Wesley mentioned. "On our way back. We offered her a ride, but she said she wasn't on her way here and she would catch a cab."

"So we waited with her until she did," Gunn added.

Cordelia frowned at that, sitting down herself. "Why would she...she said she'd come back here...why would she go home without even telling me? She didn't tell you guys anything?" she questioned.

Both men shook their heads simultaneously.

"She had any...news?" Wesley hesitantly brought up the subject they all hardly ever mentioned aloud.

"Nope," Cordelia said quietly, hanging her head in defeat. "I wish she had...at least something, I mean, that look in his eyes is just...too much sometimes."

The ex-Watcher put a hand on her shoulder in a silent understanding. "Sometimes I wonder...perhaps we should tell him she's trying. It would be better if he had something to hold onto. Some little hope that it's...possible."

"Yeah, very smart, Wes," the brunette nodded and patted his hand. "Then I'm guessing you also wanna be the one to tell him it's - oops - *not* possible, if that happens to be the case?" "And I'm thinking here's hidden the reason why we *don't* tell the man," Gunn pointed out.

"She went to see Lorne," Cordelia told them, "maybe...I-I mean she left, it could be...because, you know...he told her something?" she hopefully looked up at Gunn, her eyes almost pleading with him to tell her she's right.

He didn't say anything, just sighed.

"Yes...it's...possible he did. Maybe that's why she left so soon," Wesley observed waveringly, not sounding convinced himself, but hopeful nonetheless.

"But still, no telling Angel," Cordelia remarked sternly, standing up.

"Not until we have solid news," the Englishman agreed, but his voice conveyed he wasn't entirely supporting this decision.

* * * * * *

Angel turned away from them with a sigh and silently returned to his room, shutting the door behind him without making a sound. If they only knew they were protecting him from the completely wrong thing... He had known Willow was trying to bring her back even before the witch shared that huge secret with Cordelia and Cordelia with Wesley and Gunn. He'd known it because he knew Willow. He didn't know if it could be done or not, he didn't hold his hopes high, what *could* happen never mattered to him. She was dead. That's all that mattered. If by some miracle, she could be brought back...he didn't know. He didn't want to think about, he *refused* to think about it. Hoping only equaled more heartache in his case, and though sometimes he couldn't help himself, he did everything in his power to forget *how* to hope. The formerly sleeping baby in his arms started to fuss and Angel rocked him gently, shifting him from one shoulder to another. Cordelia was right. They all were. He couldn't do it alone. Yes, he tried, he was trying his hardest and the constant worry for his son nearly drove him crazy at times, which was why he practically *needed* to get back to work, to try and take his mind off of it at least for a short period of time. Aside from that, the full-time job of a father drained him more than he ever thought it could. He didn't remember when was the last time he got over three hours of sleep per day. He noticed he was deteriorating, becoming more sloppy on the job. It was dangerous, for Connor more than anyone else. He had worked so hard to keep him safe and if the wrong someone found out he was no longer in his best shape, it would certainly not be good.

"Shh...don't cry, please," he whispered to Connor as his little son started sobbing quietly, what Angel knew from experience would only get worse. Trying to lull him back into sleep afterwards would take patience he really didn't have at the moment. But it was just one of those times Connor wasn't too willing to cooperate, and to make things worse, he couldn't tell his father what he wanted either.

He sat down on his bed and seated his son in his lap. "Look," he retrieved the Slayer's photograph from the bedside, already fixed in a new frame, but still blemished by the scratch on her cheek. "It's you mommy," he managed a smile, looking down at Connor. "See? She's smiling, she's happy. Give me a smile, come on." Connor stopped crying, his large curious eyes darting between his father's face and his mother's picture, as though trying to understand what exactly Angel wanted him to do. Finally, he rested his gaze on Angel and smiled, reaching out one little hand as if in attempt to reach the vampire's face.

"Good boy," Angel kissed his head and closed his large palm over his son's small one. As Connor found sudden interest in playing with his fingers, Angel's eyes traveled back to Buffy's picture and he let a strained sigh to escape his lips. He had lied to Willow. Well, he hadn't exactly *lied* in the technical sense, he had a drawer full of pictures of her, drawings he had made while Connor was asleep and he had a little time for himself, sometimes he would even make drawings of her with Connor. But he had lied saying he had other pictures to replace that one. That was the only real life picture he had, the only one he kept after all those years. Buffy had left it with him one time. If she hadn't, he would have none, because the only one he had before had burnt down together with his first apartment.

So it was scratched now, the only one he had. But there was still another thing he hadn't lied about. All in all, it was just a picture. One way or another...a picture could be replaced.

Part 3

Angel pounded the punching bag until his fists were all but driving through the black leather, and still, he thought it wasn't enough. He delivered punches faster than the speed of light, as though he was not aware of anything but the bag, his entire attention focused on it only, and that, still, wasn't enough. His eyes gazed unmoving over the punching bag, two dark orbs, fixed firmly on the target hanged on the wall. Four knives were protruding from it, three of them had hit the outer circle and only one had hit bull's eye. As his vision zoomed in on the central knife, it only made him punch harder. The links of the chain holding the bag started loosening one by one and would soon snap, but even that wasn't enough to make him stop, not even when the bag was barely holding at all, swinging aimlessly in every direction, depending on where the blow came from, in a way Angel could barely hit it at all anymore.

Ultimately, he drew in a shaky breath and steadied the bag with both arms, inclining his forehead on the rough leather exterior. "What is it, Wesley?" he asked, not lifting his head.

"I think that should be my question," the former Watcher replied evenly, and started moving from his former place on the stairs towards the vampire.

"Should it?" Angel tore his forehead from the bag and delivered an abrupt round kick at it, disconnecting it from the chain and sending it flying right at the target.

"Ah," Wesley took a moment to catch his breath though his heart kept pounding wildly against his chest. "Well...I think you just answered your own question...don't you?"

Angel took another deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow with a swift motion of his hand. He inclined one hand on the wall in front of him and leaned his weight on it, drawing more air into his lungs even though he didn't need any of it. "If you...need to talk..."

"I *need* to train," he cut him curtly, pushing himself back from the wall and running a hand through his wet spikes. If the last couple of hours proved anything to him, it was that nearly half his strength and coordination was gone. Unless he didn't find some way to get it back as soon as possible, he wouldn't only be endangering his friends, but he would first and foremost be endangering his son. There would be no one to protect him, if he couldn't handle the job. No one could keep Connor safe but him, and as much as Angel wished it wasn't so, he knew it was true. He couldn't allow what was happening to him to continue happen.

"It won't help you," Wesley pointed out gravely, not moving from where he stood.

"It won't?" the vampire sniffed, wiping more sweat from his forehead.

"You can train all you want, if you don't eat and don't sleep, it will only drain you more. It isn't the way, Angel. You need a rest-"

"I have a son to raise," the vampire snapped, sharply turning at the man. Then, in a much calmer voice, added, "You rest."

"You think he should be here to see this?" Wesley gesticulated at the baby in question, lying in a small crib by the stairs.

Angel chuckled. "I think I'll be the luckiest father in the world if it's the worst thing he'll have to see. I need him here with me," he then answered the former Watcher's true question. "Why?" "I need to protect him," he exhaled, slumping tiredly to the floor. His head started to spin and he cradled it in his hands, burying it between his knees. "What the Hell is happening to me?..." he whispered.

Wesley sighed, his eyes dimming with tender compassion as he walked up to his friend and sat down on the floor next to him. He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it weakly. "You don't need to protect him all the time. It's been four months, we can...*you* can...let us help you."

"I can't," Angel muttered, without lifting his head to look at Wesley. "He's...my son."

"And he always will be. No one here is trying to take him away from you, we just want to help. Nobody wants you to go through this alone, you don't have to. Remember that."

Angel didn't say anything for a while, then, "I don't need help."

"You're falling apart," Wesley observed, gently yet strongly at the same time. "There is only so much that you can do. I don't think you fully realize that..."

"I miss her," the vampire finally looked up, but not at his friend.

The Englishman swallowed hard, and looked away for a moment, clearly not knowing what to say at that. "I know," he uttered quietly. "W-we all do."

"No," Angel released a short snicker. "No...not like that."

"Not like that," Wesley recognized the truth in his words.

"It's not fair," the vampire said softly, after a spell of deathly silence between the two. When the Englishman looked at him that moment, he almost felt as though he was seeing a child next to him, one that still wasn't familiar with the true concept of death, instead of a two hundred and fifty years old vampire who had not only seen more death than he ever would but had even caused most of it himself.

"No," he patted his shoulder, letting out a sigh. "I suppose it never does when someone you love dies." After a pause, he looked at the vampire, slightly frowning as his mind was working on the right words. "You can't...*fight* it, Angel. You can't fight death."

Angel nodded and stood up. "Too many things I can't fight, Wes," he murmured, as he covered the distance between him and Connor's crib with three strides. He reached in it and picked up his son, tightly embracing him to his chest, and closed his eyes, inhaling his soft baby scent. The ex-Watcher beheld the two of them for some time, then nodded in acknowledgement. "I-I'll...better leave you alone now. If you need anything...you know where to find us."

The vampire didn't answer and after another moment of awkward silence, he climbed back up the stairs and out of the training basement.

* * * * * *

"So basically, what do we got?" Xander inclined across the table from the two witches.

"We figured it out," Willow beamed, her green eyes shining with excitement. "At least, I...think we did."

"I helped," Anya grinned proudly.

"Anya helped," the redhead confirmed.

"Okay, so come on," Xander probed anxiously. "What gives?"

"We know how to bring her back."

"Will, if I had a dime for every time I heard that in the last four months," he sighed.

"This time it's a safe bet," the witch promised, her voice and body language reflecting nothing but absolute confidence and trust in her words. "We checked it, we *double-checked* it, it has to work."

"Okay, then," he opened his arms invitingly, leaning back in his chair. "Wanna let me in on some of it?"

Willow nodded, grinning. "Buffy was killed by a mystical energy. T-the energy that was used to create the portal to Glory's dimension basically consumed her, both body and soul. But that death wasn't natural, or even partly natural - there wasn't even a body left. We've been going all wrong about it, that's why we couldn't find a way to bring her back."

"What do you mean, going all wrong?" Xander didn't understand.

"I-I can explain," Tara offered, smiling shyly. "W-when someone dies a natural death...the body stays in our dimension, while the soul passes on to another dimension. In a case like that, reuniting the soul with the body and r-reviving...resurrecting the...person, requires very powerful magick, i-it can be done i-in theory though, it's very dangerous. That's not the way to bring Buffy back though. When that...energy killed her, both her body *and* soul, were transformed to another dimension. B-basically, she...doesn't belong there. When a-a being doesn't belong in a certain dimension, its much easier to pull it back out, to...where it originally came from."

"Now the same thing, but in English," Xander asked, after attempting to follow but eventually giving up. "So how does that help us to bring her back?"

"Lorne said she's lost, that we need to find her," Willow was the one to cover the explaining part this time. "I didn't understand it at first, but with Tara and Anya, we finally figured it out. Her *being*, her...entity was lost, she was stuck in a dimension she didn't belong, good or bad, isn't the point here. All that is up to us is to *find* her, and bring her out of it, bring her back here."

"And...we know *how* to do that?" he prompted with a gesture of his hand.

"There's still hope for you, honey," Anya patted his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"We've been looking for the wrong spell the entire time," Willow explained. "And now we have the right spell," her friend threw a guess at the rest of her thought.

"W-we do," Tara nodded with a smile. "And it's not a difficult one. We have all the ingredients right here," she looked around the empty, except for the four of them, Magick Shop. "And the energy of the four of us is just enough for it to channel."

"Better be," Anya yawned. "I, for one, don't tend to have that much energy in the middle of the night." "You mean we're gonna do it now?" Xander looked at Willow, suddenly, not appearing to be too confident.

"You're not backing out, are you?" she asked, her voice somewhat wavering.

"I, um-" he swallowed. "No. I'm not. I'm gonna do whatever it takes, it's just...so sudden. I mean, just yesterday, we sill didn't have a clue..."

"Well, we do now," the redhead said resolutely, retrieving a spell book out of her bag and putting it between them on the table, as her lover and the former demon left to search the shelves for the needed supplies. "And we have more than just a clue. In less than half an hour, you'll see her, alive, standing right here in front of you. Because tonight...we'll bring her back to where she's needed the most." With that, she opened the heavy book.

* * * * * *

"Any luck?" Cordelia asked, just as Wesley stepped out of the darkness and shut the basement's door behind him.

He shook his head. "If he keeps that up, he'll kill himself. Not literally, because he's a vampire, but...if he thinks for one second he'll be able to protect Connor better this way, he has another thing coming."

"I'm not sure he *thinks*, Wes," Cordelia pointed out. "I think that's pretty much where the problem lies."

"He says he misses her..."

"Gee, really?" the brunette shot him a look. "Well, you go ahead and try," he gestured towards the basement, "maybe you'll have better luck." She rolled her eyes, sighing. "I'm still waiting for a call from Willow. It's been two days, she usually...keeps me updated. Not that there's anything to...update."

"She'll call once she has news," Wesley concluded, inwardly wishing himself the phone had rung already. Willow hadn't contacted them ever since she had left Los Angeles a couple of days ago, and the hurry she had left in definitely implied something was up. Unfortunately though, there was no one to confirm their suspicions.

"Hey, you think...you know, if the impossible became possible and happened...you think they'll get back together?" Cordelia pondered the last subject Wesley had ever expected her to bring up at a time like this.

"I think it's a little too early to discuss that, Cordelia," he observed, still processing her words.

"H-hey, guys," a third voice timidly interrupted their conversation and both of them rotated to its source.

"Oh, hey, Fred," the brunette grinned at the other woman.

"I-is Angel t-there?" she looked past the co-workers at the shut door leading to the basement.

"Well..."

"Ahm...Fred," Cordelia took Fred by the arm, leading her away from there, while Wesley was still struggling with getting the first word out. "You see, Angel...he's training. And he doesn't really like when people bother him, while he's training. So why don't we just wait for him here until he...comes out?" she suggested, smiling brightly in a dull attempt to appear convincing.

The other woman peered at her for a moment, then asked, "Is...Connor there, too?"

"Yep," Cordelia finished with a nod. "Yes, Connor is...there...too. And *we* are gonna wait here until Angel brings him out. We'll have fun," she pulled Fred around the front desk to the laptop. "We can surf the net...it'll be fun. We can order Tacos!"

Fred eyed her as if she were crazy. "I-I...should go back to my room?"

"No! No...need to do that. Just that..." she took a deep breath, losing the goofy _expression from her face, "Angel is really upset right now. I think it's better to...leave him alone for a while. He'll pull himself back together, he'll come right out, trust me," she touched her arm reassuringly."Unless, of course, he'll wanna break something first. And hey, if Angel needs to break something, what better place to do it than...away from us. Right?" she smiled.

Wesley eyed the two women from aside, chuckling softly at Cordelia's attempts to keep Fred out of the basement. If the circumstances had been different, he might have even found it genuinely amusing. Suddenly, all three heads snapped up in alarm, when strange sounds from the garden reached their ears. Thinking quickly, the ex-cheerleader grabbed a loaded crossbow from under the counter and tossed it over to the former Watcher, who already was on the alert himself. All three pairs of eyes were intently focused on the glass doors that opened into the patio, widening in both astonishment and fear when the cause for their alarm finally stepped into view.

Wesley felt his palms starting to sweat and he soon dropped the crossbow to the floor, unable to move his eyes from the woman that had just entered the lobby. "Buffy."

Part 4

The Slayer stared at the former Watcher, her eyes large and red rimmed, her entire being radiating with fear and confusion. She was wearing a white sweater and black pants that sat strangely on her unusually pale complexion. Her eyes darted for a moment from the ex-Watcher to the ex-cheerleader and then roamed in perplexity about the enormous lobby, as she hugged her arms round her slightly trembling slim form. Though she stood firmly on her feet, she looked like the wind alone was enough to make her lose that balance and topple to floor.

"Buffy," Wesley spoke her name again and gasping, she flashed her gaze back to him.

Cordelia grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back a little. "W-what if she's that...robot thingie Willow was talking about?" she hissed in his ear, gesturing at the blonde.

The Englishman pulled out of her grip, glancing at Buffy, then back at his co-worker. "*Look* at her, Cordelia," was all he said.

The brunette made a couple of steps back, peering carefully at the Slayer. She didn't know what to think. Everything she could possibly conjure up seemed to be more rational than it being the *real* Buffy.

"Buffy..." Wesley started cautiously progressing in her direction, while she didn't seem to move at all. The only thing she did was to sharply look down from him and tighten her arms around herself, until her knuckles started to turn white. She grimaced slightly and moved her pale lips, probably trying to say something, but no sound came. Suddenly, she looked down on her belly, as though taking its flatness in for the first time, and the former Watcher could descry the tears starting down her face when she slowly unwound her arms from around her middle. "I'm...empty," she whispered.

He had a hard time trying to follow her logic before he finally understood what she meant to say. Only that *now* he had to figure out what to say back. "Yes, you...you are..."

"Where is he?" her head snapped up.

"B-Buffy, maybe you better..."

"No," she uttered the word in a small sob, not nearly as aggressively as the former sentence. "I-I need to-" she started to sway on her feet but Wesley was luckily just in time to catch her before she collapsed. "Angel," she stammered, trying to hold on to the former Watcher but eventually giving up and inclining her full weight on him. "I-I n-need to...to see...where is he?" she tried to look up into his eyes, but before she could, hers closed and her head slumped against his chest in unconsciousness.

"God," he breathed out and descended to the floor, carefully pulling the Slayer with him and setting her more comfortably in his arms. He looked up at Cordelia, only to meet a gaze equally perplexed to his own. "What happened?" she asked.

"My guess would be that standing and speaking was a little too much for her at the moment."

"So, it's...it's her? It's really her?" the brunette's eyes widened in disbelief and she even dared to step a little closer.

"What are we going to do?" the ex-Watcher looked up at her, his eyes filled with loss she wasn't used to seeing in them, especially recently, when he practically had to completely take over Angel's position.

"Really who?"

Both heads turned to Fred, who'd only a moment ago came from her hiding place behind the counter.

After exchanging a quick glance with her co-worker, Cordelia looked back at the other woman again. "Fred...remember what I said, that you didn't have to go to your room?" she attempted a smile, but didn't quite pulled it off. "You think you can....*please* do it...*now* would be good?"

"B-but I..." Fred was obviously a little hurt by that request. "Who is...she's good, right? W-will she be okay?"

"She'll be just fine, Fred-"

"God."

"Angel!" Fred exclaimed cheerfully at the sight of the vampire who'd just stepped out of the basement with his son in his arms.

"Oh, boy," Cordelia's eyes restlessly bounced from one person to another. "Okay, this room suddenly has *too* many people in it!" She glanced down at Wesley, who was still holding the Slayer in his arms, his eyes focused on the vampire's, whose eyes were painfully fixed on the Slayer, subconsciously reinforcing his hold around his little son.

Not wasting any more time, Cordelia strode over to Angel and tried to take Connor from him. When he refused to let go, she groaned and rolled her eyes. "Just give him to me, already!" she urged firmly, and surprising herself, succeeded in freeing Connor from his father's tight embrace. "Fred, with me-"

"But-"

"Fred *now*!" Cordelia wasn't leaving any room for discussion. A part of her felt that the only way to release the sudden frustration pent up in her was to hit something really hard, the more times, the better. "We're taking Connor and we're going to your room, right *now*," she grabbed the woman's hand and tugged Fred after her up the stairs, cradling the baby in the crook of her other arm. Throwing a last glance of concern at Angel, then at Wesley and Buffy, she sighed heavily and weakly shook her head, having obviously still not quite adjusted to everything that had happened within the last five minutes.

A moment after his son was out of his arms, Angel was on his knees next to Wesley, with Buffy's body safely cradled in his lap. His eyes frantically roamed over her, as his shaking hand tried to smooth back her hair, and for some reason kept tangling in her blond locks. "H-how...w-w-what happened...what happened here?" he managed to get out, his voice cracking with every word as tears started spilling from his eyes.

Wesley shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I-I don't know...Angel-" he tried to touch his shoulder, but the vampire darted back, panting breathlessly, taking the Slayer with him. "No!" He protectively wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to his chest, guarding her from his friend like a lioness guarding her cubs.

"Okay. Alright." Wesley climbed up to his feet, making sure not to get too close to set the clearly emotionally not very stable vampire off. "I just meant...we can't stay here on the floor, we have to move her somewhere. Perhaps to your room..." he suggested carefully, taking another step back but not removing his eyes off the vampire who suddenly didn't seem to be at all aware of his presence. He had never seen Angel being like that. Yes, Angel had several occasions in the past when he wasn't exactly himself due to everything that happened with Darla, but even that, though on some levels it could be considered worse, hadn't touched the former Watcher nearly as what he was seeing right now did. The fact they had no time to do that completely escaping his mind, he couldn't help but think maybe they should have somehow kept her return a secret from Angel so they could prepare him before he saw her. Wesley himself had too many things that didn't make sense to him, didn't add up to anything rational, that he would more than love to research further, the vampire aside. The Slayer's sudden appearance in the hotel left him hanging high and dry, he didn't know what to make of it. Where did she come from? He couldn't even vaguely bring up the possibility she had driven all the way from Sunnydale or even had taken a bus, the state she was in wouldn't allow her to do any of those things. So how had she gotten here? And where from? He had no one to ask these questions. Had Willow finally succeeded in her attempts to bring her back to life? If she had, why hadn't she told them something? His head was reeling from way too many questions. He exhaled and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Angel," he made another attempt to approach the vampire.

For some reason, he looked a lot more calmer now than he was only a couple of minutes ago. He still had his arms tightly wrapped around his Slayer and his cheek rested atop hers, his eyes only slightly opened. His body was much more relaxed now and even his frantic breathing somewhat sedated. He wasn't showing any signs of animosity or fear anymore, only bewilderment and pain...and to Wesley's experienced eyes, also release. Now, he was simply trapped in the moment, in the little peace he drew from holding her in his arms, being one with her again, and the sigh of the two of them together like that almost tempted Wesley to just let them be, let them exist in that moment of their own for a little while longer. Almost. "Angel," he whispered, laying his hand on the vampire's shoulder, who, this time, only slightly stiffened in response. "I need you to help me move her to your bed. She'll be...much more comfortable there, I'm sure."

After another moment of silence, Angel finally lifted his cheek from the Buffy's and slowly raised his head at the former Watcher. He didn't say anything, only swallowed hard and shifted her in his arms so he could pick her up. He rose to his feet, avoiding eye contact with his friend and silently made his way up to his room, with the Slayer in his arms.

Wesley stayed put, just watching him go, finally allowing his own eyes to tear up as a small smile crept its way to the corners of his mouth.

* * * * * *

Angel sighed, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. He was sitting on the floor for about an hour now, his back inclined on the side of his bed, on which Buffy lay, still asleep. One of her hands was firmly held in his the entire time, while his other hand was restlessly moving on his thigh. He was randomly squeezing her hand when he was sinking too deep into his thoughts and loosening the grip, he seemed to be addicted to the feeling of her presence alone, of her warm palm in his, physical contact became essential to really know she was real.

His tears had dried out a long time ago, and his confusion had made way for reason and rational thinking, even though he had no idea where to begin. Agony collided with joy and longing collided with fulfillment, emotions he's been trying to bury for four months because of the suffering they'd caused him came back and washed over him and he found himself unwilling and unable to deny them. The rational part of him had so many questions he wanted to be answered, such as how, why, when, but the other part of him simply didn't care. He could reach into his jacket's pocket right now, it was only two feet away, take his cell out and dial Willow's number and ask. But he couldn't even move. Did it really matter? Did it matter how...or *why*, if she was here? He had dreamt for so long about it happening, regardless to how much he refused to hope it ever would, but when he had woken up, he was always alone. And now that he wasn't...

Angel sniffed and pulled her hand to his cheek, taking a moment to relish the longed for softness of her skin, as another tear slipped silently from under his dark lashes.

"Angel?" he heard her, softly pronouncing his name, and his eyes flew open to the sound of her voice.

He looked up at her and quickly moved from the floor to the bed next to her. He wiped his eyes and attempted a smile, even though it was the last thing he thought he was able to do, especially when she pulled her hand out of his to push herself up.

Buffy looked at him for a moment, then down at her abdomen, then back at him. "Angel," she whispered again, and the second her lower lip started trembling, the vampire forgot every will he could possibly harbor to fight for composure and gathered her into his arms. Angel pulled his legs up on the bed and fitted her into his lap, each of them clinging to the other like to their very own lifeline. He crushed her to him, raining kisses on her forehead and cheeks as she sobbed quietly into his bare chest, her body trembling in his embrace with every wave of tears. "It's okay..." he tried to speak, even though his voice wasn't completely ready to collaborate just yet, "I...I...you're here...you're here." He swallowed and lifted her head from his chest, using his hands to clear both her hair and tears from her face at the same time. "Doesn't matter how...nothing matters," he leaned in and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. "You're here....somehow. Everything is gonna be okay now. I promise." He kissed her head again. "I promise you." "I don't...I don't know," she clearly struggled with uttering her words. "Angel..." she brought her two palms to lay on his cheeks, inspecting his brown eyes for a moment, before burying her face in the curve of his neck and tightly wrapping her arms around it. "Angel, what happened to me?" she murmured. "I don't know," he replied and she stiffened momentarily, his answer clearly not being what she needed to hear. Obviously, it *was* important, to *her*. The vampire stroked her hair gently and planted a soft kiss on her head. "I don't know...but I will find out, I promise you, I'll find out. *We'll* find out."

The Slayer pulled back and out of his arms, causing a strange sensation of emptiness he couldn't quite explain to sweep over him. She brushed the tears away from her face and lay down.

"You wanna sleep now?" he asked, not moving from where he was sitting although knowing she would probably not want him present for that. Buffy just nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Okay." Angel gulped, fidgeting uncomfortably in his place, reluctant to leave her side. "I...I'll be right here."

"No," she protested softly and before he had the time to get the wrong impression, gazed up into his eyes and touched his hand gently, her gesture alone saying so much more than any words.

Buffy moved away to clear him some room and Angel lay down next to her. She crawled into his arms and snuggled on his chest, immediately closing her eyes, as he drew the comforter over the two of them. He gazed down on her face, suddenly becoming open and vulnerable to no other but the purity of peace, such peace he hadn't even remembered ever feeling before. He brushed his lips over her brow, as his long fingers leisurely combed themselves up and down through her golden hair, randomly lingering on either her neck or the sensitive spot behind her ear. His other hand subconsciously moved from her back and he slipped it under the small hand that rested on his chest by her face. A small smile lit his face when his eyes found his ring on her finger, where he had once put it himself, where it hadn't been for such a long time. "I love you," he whispered, when the sound of her breathing became mellow enough to deceive him she had fallen asleep.

But she heard him.

Go to Part 5