Rating: umm...I'm thinking alon g the lines of PG...in the meantime. Who knows what the future might bring:).
Disclaimer: nope, last time I c hecked, nothing was mine.
Spoilers: well...better safe th an sorry: everything up to the end of season 3 can be spoilery.
Synopsis: I have a strange driv e to rewrite season 3 of BtVS. I just don't seem to like the way it ended...beat s me why. Anyway, so despite the fact that the original plan was to begin w ith "Helpless" (that's around the time everything really started getting screwe d 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. B ut all in all - it's probably a yet another attempt to end the season on a mor e "positive" B/A level. See how 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.

There's no walls between us now
Except the ones we bring
To hide the grace that we
Do not want to see
We waited hours for this
Now we watch it fade
This moment that we share
Will always, always slip away

- Vast, "Song Without a Name"

****

"Buffy," Giles descried his Slayer as soon as she set foot into the library, and exited his office to meet her.

The blonde sighed, tossing her school bag on the counter and leaning her back against it. She was tired, and Giles looked angry, in his composed British manner, as much as he was trying to hide it. It most certainly wasn't the best combination for her at the moment.

"What'd Buffy do?" she asked nonchalantly. "Or is it more along the lines of 'what's Buffy *going* to do'?"

"I think we need to talk," he said, motioning for her to enter his office, and she complied, although somewhat reluctantly. If he couldn't say whatever he had to tell her outside in the library, and had to go through all that privacy, it couldn't possibly be good.

****

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it. I wasn't even there," she remarked, hopping on her Watcher's desk.

Giles gave her a long look, then shook his head. "It's not something you did," he let her know.

"Oh," Buffy mouthed. "Ok, then. There's a new big bad?" she looked up at the man pacing in front of her, her eyes chasing him from one edge of the room to the other. "Giles, you can stop any minute now," she observed.

The Watcher paused, as if only now acknowledging he had been restlessly marching the office. He sighed, and took a seat in a chair, removing his glasses for a moment, then putting them back on. He gazed up at the blonde Slayer, inhaling a deep breath. "How are you?" he inquired.

Buffy arched a brow, it definitely wasn't what she'd expected. "Fine…I guess. I'm just tired."

"Yes, I can see that, that's why I asked," he remarked, gesturing at her with his hand. "I'm concerned about you."

"Why?" the Slayer frowned. "Nothing's wrong Giles, I-"

"Buffy, that's enough," he held up his hand, indicating for her to quiet. He had no idea how he was going to even *begin* saying what he had in mind, let alone actually *finish* it, but he knew he had to. It was the middle of the day now, and he had had hours to mull over everything Whistler had told him that morning. He still didn't know what he was going to do, he still wasn't able to muster enough strength to go and *see* Angel. He still didn't know what to think, or how to handle the situation the best way possible, because he didn't even know what was the *worst* way possible…

But there was one thing he did know; one thing he knew for sure Whistler had been right about. He had been observing his Slayer for weeks, seeing how exhausted, worn and lifeless she had become, even though her mask gave away a different impression, and it seemed to have been deteriorating with every passing day, even though today she did appear somewhat uncharacteristically relieved. Now, he knew why. And he also knew that if he told her what Whistler had told him, it would lift at least one stone from her chest. It would be at least one thing less for her to worry about.

The problem was that he didn't know how to tell her. As understanding as he was, or was trying to be, it was only expected for him to feel upset, or betrayed by her, and in a sense, not at all happy with Angel's return. Whistler had made a correct observation, saying it had been so easy uttering words he was sure he'd never be accounted for. Though he understood the decision she had made, and he probably would have made the same one, when standing at one end of a line, it was hard to really see how it's like from the other. And he was upset, and exasperated, and it was just, but if he were going to take his anger and umbrage out on her, he would only make things worse than they already were, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"What's wrong?" now, it was she who wanted answers, but her voice was small, like of a misbehaved child.

"Buffy," he inclined forward, and lay a hand on her knee in a comforting gesture. "What you wanted to tell me yesterday, when we were interrupted…" he had to stop at the haunted expression filling her eyes.

"That was yesterday," she said, the tone of her voice imploring him to drop it. "Today is today."

"I understand it…"

"No, hardly!" she exclaimed, jumping from the desk. "Was that all?" she turned to her Watcher. "Because I have *two* free periods coming up and I *really* wanted to go home and get some sleep."

Giles sighed heavily. "You're not going home," he stated the obvious.

"Excuse me?" she cocked a brow.

"I know, Buffy," he informed her gently.

But she didn't grasp it right away. "So am I, many things. What are you talking about, Giles? I don't have time for riddles right now, I really want to…"

"I know about Angel," he interrupted her.

Buffy suddenly forgot how to breathe. She paled, and stumbled backwards, stopping herself by gripping Giles' desk with the hand that wasn't covering her eyes. "Oh, God," she mumbled, bringing her other hand to her face as well.

"Buffy," Giles attempted to touch her, but she recoiled.

"Don't!" she exclaimed, then removed her palms from her face. She was in tears, and seemingly had lost every control over her emotions. "Don't say anything," she made another step to the side, towards the exit as though trying to evade his reach, "and don't…" she held out a shaky hand, palm up, "don't follow me either." With that, she ran out of the office, and grabbing her schoolbag on the way, barely avoiding bumping into the startled Willow and Oz, out of the library.

"What happened?!" the redhead asked Giles, her concern for her best friend utterly apparent in her voice. "Giles, what happened to her?" she raised her voice, now more imperative, after the Watcher failed to reply the first time.

"Perhaps it would have been better, had I not told her I knew," he mused, seemingly completely oblivious to the teenagers' presence in the library.

"Knew what?" she inquired, and then it suddenly hit home. "Angel?"

Giles' gaze snapped up, and Willow's hand instantly flew to her mouth as her eyes widened. "Ow," she gasped, her orbs filling with despair, "oh, my God…" she whined.

"You know?" the elder man slowly uttered the question, advancing upon her in a manner that caused the redhead to shrink away from him, ostensibly in fear.

"What about Angel?" Oz frowned, turning to look at his girlfriend.

"No…no Angel. *No* Angel!" she finally managed to tear her hand from her mouth, her eyes frantically darting between the two men. "Oh, no, oh, God! I gotta go," she started retreating towards the flap doors of the library, "go, now," she murmured under her breath, just before she whirled around and dashed out into the hall.

Oz and Giles exchanged perplexed looks after her, both still not quite understanding what's going on.

****

"Angel?" Buffy stepped into the large hall of the mansion, where she had left him by the fireplace before going to school that morning. He wasn't there anymore. "Angel?" she called out his name again, with her free hand wiping the remnants of tears from her red eyes. She knew it was a long shot, but she still hoped he wouldn't notice she had been crying.

She sniffled, and smoothed back her hair, before finally entering the bedroom.

****

"Ang-" the Slayer silenced in mid word and couldn't help but beam, when she found him sleeping, curled up on the bed with an open book underneath his palm.

Buffy quietly put the bags she brought on the floor, and skulked to the bed. She carefully lifted Angel's hand, and pulled the book from under it, putting it face down on the bedside drawer.

Unfortunately, as much as she had endeavored not to make a sound, when she let go of the book and turned to check if the vampire was still sound asleep, she found him watching her. The Slayer mustered a grin, all the while knowing she couldn't fool him, but hoping he was still too disoriented to discern the truth. It took that hope several seconds to shatter to a million pieces.

"Why?" he asked quietly, reaching his hand to her face, to trace his fingertips over the trails of her tears.

Buffy drew back, which wasn't nearly the reaction Angel had expected from her, and he sat up, observing her as she removed her jacket and shoes, and walked around the bed, to lay down beside him.

He rotated on his other side to face her, the question in his eyes indecisive, but also demanding to be answered.

The Slayer merely put on another futile smile, and nestled herself closer to him, her entire being crying out, yearning for his embrace only.

But he couldn't give it to her just yet. "Why?" he probed.

Buffy sighed, giving in. "I owe many answers I can't give, there are things I can't talk about," she swallowed, "even though I have to."

"Me?" he picked it up immediately.

The Slayer chuckled. "You...among the rest."

"No rest," he shook his head.

To that, she didn't answer.

"I'm…sorry," Angel whispered, and lay his head back on his pillow, looking away from her.

"Angel, no," Buffy cupped his cheek and turned his face to her. "There will always be things I'll need to deal, with or without you, you're *not* responsible for the problems in my life." She gently stroked his cheek, and the vampire closed his eyes, drawing closer to her, as if on an instinct, hungry for the tenderness of her touch.

The Slayer beamed, softly brushing her lips over his and burying her face in the curve of his neck, "you're the only thing that makes me smile," she whispered, when she finally felt his arms close around her.

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