PART 4
~The Weaving of Webs
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Angel's eyelids fluttered as he slowly woke up from the light sleep he had slipped into while he had been reading. The vampire took a moment to get his bearings, realizing with a start that Buffy was indeed in the chair across from him in Faith's body. For a second he had thought it was all just a strange dream, but there she was in front of him, her head propped up on her hand and an open book splayed across her lap.

He made no move to get up, content to sit on the couch and watch her sleep. The shock of seeing her in Faith's body had worn off, and he was left with an unnerved feeling. It was strange, seeing her in a different body, with a different face.

And yet there was no doubt that it was Buffy. The way she carried herself, her gestures and the way she flipped her hair casually over her shoulder gave it away. Not to mention the tingling in his soul, the yearning sensation that intensified when she was near.

There had been a thick palpable tension in the air as they had read in silence, the hum of the refrigerator in the other room the only sound. It had helped calm their frayed nerves and Angel noted that as the minutes slipped by Buffy seemed to relax more, curling up in the chair and becoming engrossed in her reading.

She'd looked up from time to time, always managing to catch his eyes on her for a moment before he looked away sheepishly. The vampire couldn't help it, he'd been starved of the sight of her for months, and it didn't matter that it wasn't her body that she was in.

It was her soul, her passion, her mind, her thoughts, her emotions. It was Buffy, everything that made her herself that wasn't connected with her body in any way was here sitting in the room with him. He couldn't help but stare, trying to make it all sink in.

And now it finally had, and she had fallen asleep. Buffy was obviously exhausted, she had been since the moment she set foot into the office. It had hurt when he realized that she really was Buffy trapped in Faith's body, hurt to see her again in the place where their dreams had come true.

In the place where those same dreams had been shattered, leaving only the memory of them behind.

And when they had kissed...it had been indescribable. It had been painful and exquisite and aching all at once. It was perfection and yet it had ended because they had both moved on with their lives. She had a new life, a new boyfriend, a bright future...

And he had a new life as well, he mused. Seeing her here, in the place he could call home--although no home was ever complete without her--made him realize just how distant they had become and how out-of-place she was here, in Los Angeles. Sunnydale, while it had hardened her, had also softened her. L.A. was much more unforgiving, much harsher. Life here was a fight every day.

Sunnydale was removed from all this, isolated from the breakdown of humans and the ruin of so many lives, cowering behind its fake cheerfulness and the denial the whole town seemed to suffer from. She had fought demons, many demons. She hadn't had to deal with many souls.

Buffy shifted in her sleep, Faith's body seeming as though it was curled unnaturally in the large chair. The book that had been resting on her lap slid off, landing on the floor with a thud. She jumped slightly but did not wake. Angel's lips curled up in a half-smile as he carefully set his own book aside on the couch and stood, stretching leisurely to work the kinks in his neck out.

The ensouled vampire quietly made his way over to the chair where Buffy slept, deciding to carry her into the bedroom where she could sleep comfortably. He leaned over, noticing with a furrowed brow that her breathing was becoming quicker and her eyes were fluttering underneath her closed lids. The vampire frowned as he slid his arms around her leather-clad body and lifted her easily off the chair. She shifted and moaned softly, settling herself into his arms.

He silently carried her into his room and gently set her onto the mattress, a look of concern on his face. Her face was flushed and her heart was beating incredibly fast. If he hadn't known any better, he would think that she was incredibly aroused.

Angel bent over and took off her combat boots, setting them on the floor beside the bed. Buffy moaned again, louder this time, as her back arched off the bed. He watched in rapt fascination, his attention focused solely on her and the way she was tossing her head against the pillows and moaning deep in her throat. He'd like to think she was having a nightmare, but he knew that was a lie. He'd seen her do that exact same thing when she'd been here before.

It was the way she had responded while they had made love. Although, Angel was rather pleased to realize, she didn't appear to be enjoying it as much as she had then...

She cried out suddenly, her arms flailing as she arched painfully off the mattress and panted. Angel watched as she stayed at what appeared to be the peak of an orgasm for several moments, finally coming down and mewling contently as she settled back into the pillows.

Before he had a chance to process what had just happened, Buffy shot up in bed, her breathing erratic and her eyes wide open. She trembled slightly as she gathered her bearings, peering into the room through chocolate eyes. She ran a trembling hand through her slightly damp hair and tried to speak, but no sound came out when she opened her mouth. Angel stood awkwardly next to the edge of the bed, watching her as she finally found her voice.

"Wh-what just happened?" she asked softly, a tremor in her voice. Angel sat down beside her, his gaze never wavering from her face.

"I think you can answer that question a lot better than I can," he replied. "Was it some kind of dream?"

Buffy was silent for a moment. "It...no, it wasn't a dream," she told him, shifting on the bed to face him. "It wasn't *anything*."

"It was something," he argued gently. "You looked like you were having an--"

"I was," she interrupted before he could finish the sentence. "That's what it felt like. Only it wasn't a dream."

"What do you mean? How do you know it wasn't a dream?" She looked away from him as though she was ashamed. Angel gently cupped her chin and turned her face back to him. "You can tell me, Buffy."

"Because...I've had those kind of dreams before," she mumbled, "involving you." Buffy had whispered those last words, but Angel picked them up easily. He felt satisfaction and a twinge of happiness knowing that he wasn't the only one who dreamed of being with her as intimately as he possibly could be. "This wasn't a dream. I mean, it was nothing. No pictures, no sound, no emotions. Usually it's an IMAX-digital surroud-sound-that-would-make-George-Lucas-proud type deal. This...it was just feeling."

Angel took a moment to digest the information, choosing not to comment on the blush that rose in her cheeks as she spoke. He could tell that sharing that with him had been somewhat embarrassing for her, but the vampire was actually glad she had. It was a welcome comfort, knowing that she dreamed of him like he did her. Without thinking he reached out and took her clammy hand in his, squeezing it for support.

"Do you think it has something to do with Faith?" he asked suddenly. She sighed warily and shrugged her cramped shoulders.

"Maybe," she replied slowly, mulling over the proposition. "I could have some kind of connection with my body or something." Which isn't gonna be pleasant come morning, she added silently.

Angel nodded slowly, shifting on the bed. "That would make sense, and it would explain it. I mean, Faith isn't exactly the Queen of Abstinence," he joked. Buffy smiled.

"Plus she's been in a coma for eight months. All that pent-up sexual frustration must be killing her," she added. Angel surprised her by laughing softly. She loved to hear him laugh, it was a deep sound that managed to warm her soul effortlessly. When he'd been in Sunnydale, Angel had rarely laughed, and when he had it had been when they were alone.

Seeing him doing it now, and before with Wesley and Cordelia, made her realize how comfortable he was around people. And while she was elated that he was, Buffy also felt a pang of regret at not being able to have seen the transformation and encourage him through it.

"You okay?" he asked, misinterpreting her brooding silence. Buffy shot him a look.

"Peachy, considering I'm stuck in my arch-enemy's body sitting here with my ex-boyfriend because he's the only one who can tell it's really me," she replied, her voice tired rather than snappy. Angel tightened his grip on her hand, gently massaging it with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm glad you came," he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. Despite her efforts--which were, she hated to admit, half-hearted--Buffy felt herself warm under his gaze and her heart well with love. It was a battle she couldn't hope to win, one between rational thought and pure unadulterated feeling. She knew and had accepted that she and Angel were over--even though she still loved him with all her heart--and yet seeing him and being with him made all the old dreams come back.

"So am I," she whispered, her lips centimeters from his. They met for a soft kiss, not moving any closer. Only their hands and lips were touching, and yet it was so incredibly intimate that she fought to hold tears back. Buffy found herself comparing kissing him to kissing Riley and finally let herself admit that it would never feel like this.

They broke apart slowly, their gazes immediately finding each other and holding. Buffy saw Angel's cloud over with guilt and when he opened his mouth to speak she brought their entwined fingers up, pressing them against his lips to keep him quiet.

"Shh," she soothed, tracing the length of his lower lip. "Don't worry about it."

"But Buffy--" he started. She pressed their fingers firmly against his mouth again and gave him a look. Angel's lips curled upward under their laced fingers in a half-smile and he obediently kept quiet. They sat like that, staring at each other in silence, until Buffy yawned. Angel let go of her hand and stood, going over to his dresser and getting an old silk shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in. They exchanged no words, only turning around to give each other privacy while they changed.

Angel helped her into bed after pulling on an old pair of sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt. He usually slept in just boxers, but figured that with Buffy there that wouldn't be such a good idea.

"Angel, I can stay on the couch. I don't mind," she insisted. He pulled the blankets up over her in response.

"Sleep," he ordered, stooping down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Do you always treat the damsels this well?" she teased.

"Only if I love them," he replied, switching off the lamp and bathing the room in soft darkness. "And since this is the first time, let me know if I'm doing something wrong," he added, answering her unspoken question that lingered in the air. Buffy smiled, feeling slightly guilty that she felt so happy at the thought of him being alone.

She craned her neck to look at him. His body was silhouetted in the doorway, the feeble light reaching them from the kitchen streaming past him. He really did look like an angel...

"I don't think you could if you tried," she whispered sincerely. From across the room, she felt him smile.

"Good night, Buffy," he said, turning to go. She felt panic rise in her throat when he did, the memory of him walking away from her at Graduation rising from the jumble in the back of her mind. It was silly, really, but she couldn't help the terror that made it impossible for her to breathe. Angel seemed to sense her distress and paused. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked.

"Angel, stay with me tonight," she blurted, speaking before she had time to think. When she realized what she'd just said, Buffy knew that that was what she wanted. To sleep with Angel beside her and have him there when she awoke, the rest of the world far away and unimportant.

He hesitated. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice betraying a hope he couldn't dare bring himself to feel. "Is that a good idea?"

"I know it would be weird," she rationalized, her voice thick with sudden uncertainty at his hesitation, "but...everything's so strange right now. I-I just want something familiar here with me."

Angel knew he'd never be able to deny her anything even if he tried. "Of course I will," he said softly. Refusing to let any thoughts of how dangerous this was get to him, he quickly went to turn out the kitchen light and was back in his room in a moment. He heard Buffy rustling around under the blankets and could feel the joy she was now experiencing through the inexplicable bond they shared.

Buffy waited for him to get comfortable before hesitantly rolling over to lay next to him. She tentatively curled up beside him, her arm snaking around his chest and allowed herself a small sigh of contentment. She didn't care about the pain that would come, all that mattered was that she was with the man she loved with all her heart. Angel remembered their lost day, when she'd lain in his arms and done the same thing, and a pang of agony shot through his heart. He'd given up life for her, love guiding him through the hard decision and the insufferable times after it.

"Thanks," she whispered, brushing a lock of brown hair from her eyes as the emotional burden of the past day settled itself heavily on her shoulders and she fought desperately to stay awake for a few more moments.

"I love you," he replied, the declaration a mere whisper. Angel couldn't help but say it, he felt his love for her growing in his heart with each passing moment. He was beyond the shock and discomfort he'd felt at first when she'd shown up in Faith's body. That was irrelevant now.

This was Buffy, the love of his long and lonely life.

"I love you too, Angel," she murmured, a warmth growing in the pit of her stomach. She burrowed deeper beneath the blankets, inhaling deeply as the scent and feel of her undead love filled her senses, intoxicating her. Here, in Angel's bed, wrapped in his scent, his clothes, and his arms, Buffy found a peace she hadn't felt in nearly ten months.

This was heaven.

Her heaven.

With that thought, the exhausted Slayer fell into a deep sleep in the arms of her love, never once doubting how right it felt.

Angel stayed awake for hours listening to the music of her heartbeat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*

Faith wandered the streets of Sunnydale, absentmindedly rubbing her arms to warm them. She should have thought to grab a jacket from Riley when she'd left.

Riley.

That had been fun. She so did love to destroy things...and a boy's heart was so fragile underneath all the layers of smugness and self-doubt that it made the victory of cracking one that much sweeter.

Of course, Riley hadn't been smug or cold in any way. He'd been sweet, considerate, and a down-to-earth type of guy. The kind of guy Buffy had been tried to pretend she wanted.

But Faith knew the little blonde bitch better than that. The girl would never get over her blood-sucking corpse, no matter how hard she tried. She was fooling herself if she thought that she could.

Faith scowled deeply, shaking her head to clear the warm and fuzzy thoughts that were running through her brain. Buffy wanted to fuck up her life? Who the hell was Faith to stop her? Let her live with her delusions and denial. It wasn't Faith's problem.

And yet, the heart she had buried beneath impenetrable ice felt compassion for Buffy and Angel and the situation they were in. It made her sick when she realized just how much truth she had recognized and spoken during her little talk with Riley. Sure, it had been about destroying the relationship that Buffy was trying so hard to build and hold together. But she'd taken it too far with the talk of love and sacrifice and all the other bull shit she had fed him.

Faith tramped angrily down the avenue, past the movie theater and the sports shop she and Buffy had broken into when she'd gotten the other girl to lighten up a little. That had been fun, watching Miss Goody Two-Shoes letting loose and giving in to her Slayer instincts for once.

She was so absorbed with her thoughts that she didn't even realize there was someone in her way until she ran right into him. Looking up angrily, she was surprised to see a handsome blonde man glowering at her. Her eyes nearly bulged when she stepped back and took him in, leather duster, tight-fitting pants, worn Doc Martens... He was a hottie all right... She put on a seductive smile and turned up the charm.

"What're you doing out so late, Slayer?" he asked in a thick British accent. Faith tried to hide her surprise. A vamp, huh? Oh yeah, there was that little warning signal going off in her brain.

"Looking for a good fuck," she muttered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. The vampire's eyes widened. "I mean, just patrolling," she said. He'd heard her, though.

"What happened, Captain Farmboy not man enough for you?" he asked with a chuckle.

"He just can't satisfy me," she smirked, dimly wondering why she was wasting her time here. This guy obviously knew Buffy, and from the way he was talking he knew her quite intimately. She wracked her brain, trying to figure out who he was. British, bleach-blond... "What's with the whole Billy Idol look? The '80s are so over," she sneered, throwing in some Buffy-speak for the hell of it.

He glowered at her. "What about you?" he challenged, gesturing at her revealing outfit. "Am I holding you up from getting to your corner?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, so why don't you go find a stake and fall on it something," she snapped.

"Don't let me keep you from your budding slutness," he replied, holding his hands up.

"That's not a word," Faith said with a roll of her hazel eyes. "And I'm *not* a slut," she added with a growl, "I'm sorry if I enjoy taking some fucking pleasure from this incredibly boring life."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Slayer," he sniped. "Bloody hell, why am I even talking to you?"

"Because you want me," she said with a wicked grin, suddenly realizing who he was. "You want me bad, Spike. You've wanted me for a long time."

The blonde vampire looked as though he was going to punch her. Instead, he growled menacingly. "Yeah, I want some whiny pathetic blond bimbo who mopes if she doesn't have her boytoy within five feet of herself at all times. Try again, love."

Faith smirked and took a step closer to him, invading Spike's personal space. "You want me," she repeated. "I mean, how could you not? I'm young, I'm beautiful...I'm deadly. You'd love to worm your way in between my thighs and pound away like there was no tomorrow. I could make you scream in pleasure...and I could make you scream in pain even louder. And the funny thing? You'd be begging for me to hurt you more." She stood a hairbreadth away from him, her body pressed up against his sensuously. Spike squirmed under her penetrating gaze as her words made him very...uncomfortable.

"You wish, pet," he said, his voice sounding almost shaky. Faith leaned closer, her breath warm on his face.

"Come on, Spike, I know you've dreamed of it. You wonder how good of a fuck I am...I can see it in your eyes." She pulled back slightly. "Did you know the eyes are the windows to the soul? They expose your darkest secrets, your deepest desires. They tell who you really are...what you really want. Maybe you should think about that one before you try and deny anything."

Faith gave him a hard kiss, attacking his lips with hers. She pulled away and smiled at him, a bit breathless, before turning around and strolling down the sidewalk.

"Maybe you should give me a little more credit, ducks," he shouted after her. She turned around briefly and blew him a kiss before turning a corner and vanishing. "Bloody hell," he muttered, jamming his hands into his pockets and turning to leave. "She must have taken lessons from the poof on how to work up the sexual tension."

He turned once more, looking down the deserted street. There was something...off. The stuck-up little Slayer would never have wasted her breath talking to him. Something was up, but he didn't know what.

Nor did he care.

With a shrug, he walked away.

Two blocks down, Faith burst out laughing. The look on his face when she'd spoken...priceless. God, she loved hurting people. He had been hot, though...she should've taken him to a dark alley and shown him what it was like to be with a Slayer. That would've really hurt Buffy. And Angel.

Did she want to hurt them? She frowned at the thought. True, she could identify and even defend their love. But that didn't mean that she didn't hate them both. They *had* that love, after all, the same one she had never found. They were the good guys, always coming out on top, always persevering. Of course she wanted to hurt them.

And when she rounded the next corner, she knew how she could hurt them and their little Scooby Gang.

Xander Harris was walking down the street towards her, his head down as he muttered angrily to himself. She slowed, smoothing her hair and fixing her tight shirt so it displayed an ample amount of cleavage. With a friendly grin, she hurried up to him.

"Xander, what are you doing out so late?" she asked with false cheerfulness. He looked up, startled, his hand poised to strike with a stake before he realized it was her. Exhaling, he lowered his hand.

"I had a late call and then my car broke down. I was gonna go find a phone to call the repair shop and then go home for some quality sleep time," he said, his eyes running up and down her body. "And I see you've decided to start your own job as a prostitute."

She gritted her teeth and tried to smile. "I was out partying, working off all that extra steam with the whole Faith thing."

"Yeah, congrats on kicking her ass. Now we only have one psychotic killer on the loose," he said, falling into step beside her. Faith began mentally making a plan and trying hard not to grit her teeth at his comment. He'd said something about a phone...

"Yeah, well, now she'll have plenty of time to reflect and grow in jail," she heard herself say. Stopping as though she'd suddenly remembered something, Faith placed a hand on Xander's arm. "You said you needed a phone?"

"Yeah, that would be the reason why I'm walking through Sunnydale at three thirty in the morning," he said. She bit back the snide comment she wanted to make, instead pulling him over to a nearby warehouse.

"I remember there being one in here," Faith said, trying to hide the smirk on her face. "I called Giles when I was fighting here once. It should still work."

"Are you armed in case we meet any mean demons who aren't going to be too happy that we're doing the trespassing thing?" Xander asked. She smiled at his concern. He trusted Buffy with his life...the thing she was going to use against them all.

"Of course," she said, pulling her stake out of the waistband of her pants. "You know me, always prepared. Like the Army."

"No, that's be all you can be," Xander corrected as she gave the heavy door a push. With the shriek of protesting metal, it gave and they were in.

"Then it's the Navy," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"No, actually I think it's the Boy Scouts. I was one for about two days when I was ten and that's the first thing they drilled into me," he whispered, looking around. The warehouse was deserted, though there were packing crates and dust everywhere. Faith led the way, taking him into a dark corner. "So where's the phone?"

In response, she shoved him up against the wall and kissed him hard. Xander froze for a moment before trying to push her off. She captured his wrists and pinned them to his side.

"Buffy, stop!" he gasped, trying to get away. She rubbed her body up against him and shot him a menacing look.

"C'mon, Xand, you know you want it. You may try and deny it, but I can see it in your eyes. You've wanted me since we first met," she purred, running her hands up his chest after letting his wrists go.

He pushed her away harshly. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you possessed by a Horny Demon or something?" he demanded. Faith's eyes narrowed.

"Don't you want me, Xander? Am I not attractive or something? Is it Anya?" she asked, trying hard to sound like the whiny bitch Buffy had become. Xander shook his head.

"No, Buffy, that's not it. We're friends. Nothing more, nothing less," he said. She tossed her head and pouted.

"But haven't you ever wanted it to be something more?" Faith asked, twirling a lock of hair seductively. "I mean, don't tell me you haven't thought about it. Don't tell me you don't want it."

Xander sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Buffy, I don't think we should be having this conversation."

"You're right," she growled, "we should be having sex."

"Sex?!" he repeated. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?!" Faith repressed a glare.

"I feel fine. Excuse me for wanting to get some," she snapped.

He raised a hand to feel her forehead for warmth. "God, Buffy, are you sure you feel all right? You feel kinda hot."

"I am hot," she purred. "I want you, remember?" Xander snatched his hand away and tried to sidestep her. Faith effectively blocked his way, her arm shooting out to slam into the wall and hold him in place. Xander pushed her away.

"What is you problem?" he demanded, looking into her eyes. "Where the hell did this come from?"

"Where did what come from?" Faith asked innocently, her eyes trailing appreciatively down his chest. He squirmed under her gaze.

"This sudden need to attack me!" he bellowed. "Why are you doing this?!"

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, suddenly thinking that she should dye it black. She hated being blonde... "I told you. With everything that's been going on with Faith coming back and stuff, I finally realized how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you." She took a step closer to him, her eyes blazing with lust. "Even when I was with Angel," she whispered breathily, "I wanted you."

Xander stared at her. "No," he said with a shake of his head. "That's a lie and we both know it. You looked at him like he was the only guy alive--and considering he isn't, that was rather ironic of you."

"But Xander," she moaned helplessly. "There *was* a part of me that wanted you. Always has. Now we can finally be together. No one will know." Faith took another step towards him, pinning him to the wall once more. "Now's your chance to see if it was worth the wait."

Xander swallowed. Hard. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, not sure what to say. Faith didn't give him the opportunity to do it again, leaning up and kissing him instead. She shoved her tongue roughly into his mouth, moaning deep in her throat when he began kissing her back.

"Buffy," he rasped, "We can't. *I* can't."

"Sure you can," Faith encouraged. "I can do all the work if you don't think you can handle it."

"But Riley--"

"He won't mind, he got his already," she told him, moving to suck on his neck.

"And Anya--"

"No one will know, remember? It'll be our little secret," she soothed. "Take me, Xander, take me now."

With that he snapped, despite his best efforts not to, years of frustration and longing to be with the person who's body she had stolen driving him into her arms. They kissed violently, all logical thought leaving his mind as the thick cotton of desire settled over it, guiding his movements.

She broke away and smiled wickedly at him. His eyes were half-shut in passion and she was nearly giddy with the prospect of hurting the people she despised the most. This was the perfect revenge.

When Faith moved to unbuckle Xander's belt, he made no motion to stop her.

PART 5
~Fragmented
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Xander stumbled into his basement at four fifteen in the morning, his mind blank. Anya sat on the fold-out bed reading what appeared to be one of his old copies of Playboy. Removing his dusty flannel shirt and slightly-stained pants, he walked over and plopped on the bed without a word.

"I can see why you get this for the articles," she said, putting the magazine aside. "They're really quite fascinating." There was sarcasm in her voice and Xander tried to smile, but found it took too much effort.

"I just get it for the naked pictures," he grumbled, pulling a pillow under his head and curling into a ball. He felt so dirty...so used.

"I know that, Xander, I was trying to work on my sarcasm," she informed him, turning out the lamp beside the bed and sidling up to him. Nibbling on his neck, she said, "Can we fornicate now?"

"Not tonight, Anya, I'm too tired," he said, pushing her away gently. In the darkness, he could feel her pout. "Look, it's been a long night and I want to get some sleep. How about I make it up to you tomorrow?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then brightened beside him. "Do you promise to give me oral pleasure?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he muttered, his face buried in the pillow. How was he ever going to face Buffy again? How was he gonna face Anya? What had he done?

And that was when he realized that it had been all her. She had used the fact that he had wanted her for four years to her advantage, guessing that he wouldn't be able to handle the pressure. He'd nearly given in on Valentine's Day with the whole love spell fiasco two years before and had always wondered what would have happened if he had.

During the whole thing, Buffy had had this odd look on her face, a sort of satisfaction that had been lost on him on first. But thinking back, he realized how cold her eyes had been, how violent she'd been. It reminded him of Faith...

And when it had ended she'd thrown his pants at him and pulled her own on, buttoning them and blowing him a mocking kiss as she left without a word. Xander had been left in the dark warehouse as the realization of what had just happened came crashing down on him.

The simple fact remained that he was still in love with her. He always would be. Sure, he cared for Anya deeply. He'd loved Cordelia. And even though the love he felt for Buffy had lessened considerably, it was still there, buried deep in his heart. He was weak, and he'd given in.

Xander's brow furrowed as Anya wrapped her arm around his waist and molded her body against his, her gentle snoring hinting at just how tired she was. Dimly, he realized he'd forgotten to ask about the meeting at Giles' apartment. Cheating on his girlfriend could do that, he supposed. Xander scowled at the thought, mentally berating himself again.

And yet, he was almost happy that he had, because he felt nothing towards the blonde Slayer now. He was actually upset that she had used him like that, used him when it was so out of character for her to do. He thought he had known her better than that, but he had obviously been wrong.

There was something wrong about the whole thing, actually. The Buffy he knew and had known for four years would not have done that. Had it been a fight with Riley that had triggered their little interlude? Or had she perhaps finally cracked under the burden of Deadboy's leaving? There was no knowing.

All he did know was that he and Buffy were gonna have little talk tomorrow.

"God, if I didn't know any better I'd say that Faith seems to have rubbed off on Buffy a little too much," he muttered as sleep finally caught him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Faith was trembling slightly as she broke the lock leading to her old apartment and stepped inside, quickly de-activating the security system before it triggered an alert. She closed the door shut behind her and reached for the light switch, flicking it to bathe the room in soft light.

The apartment was just as she remembered it. Someone had replaced the broken window and cleared the demolished furniture. The air smelled sweet, not stale as she had expected, and it was obvious that someone had been keeping the place clean while she had been gone.

Warily, she started across the thick carpet to the canopy bed and the satin sheets that beckoned to her. She knew she couldn't go to Buffy's dorm room-she didn't know where it was and that redhead witch-wannabe would probably be there. Faith didn't want to have to deal with her.

Maybe coming here hadn't been the best idea, though. She missed Richie--her nickname for him when no one was around--and here there were a ton of reminders of him. Hell, it was technically his apartment, he'd gotten everything for her and obviously hired someone to keep it spotless. He'd been the father she'd never had, a person for her to lean on when she could no longer handle the burden of life by herself.

And now he was gone, blown to bits by Buffy and her little friends. Faith felt her lips tighten at the thought. They'd pay for that one too.

But that was for another day, when she was a little less tired and a little more creative. She'd already put an end to Buffy's relationship with Riley and driven a wedge through her friendship with Xander. There would be plenty of time to deal with the others later.

With a feral grin, Faith stripped down to her underwear and slid under the covers. She stretched languidly and yawned, clapping once to turn off the bedside light. The room was dark once again, a minimal amount of light gleaming in through the window from the streetlight outside. She turned onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling, suddenly laughing out loud. Forty-eight hours ago she'd been in a coma.

And here she was, living someone else's life with no one else knowing.

It was too good to be true.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel had been awakened from his light sleep when she had begun to breathe heavily once more. Buffy had broken out into a slight sweat, Faith's dark hair matted to her forehead, and she was trembling and thrashing in his arms. Unlike before, though, there seemed to be a terror on her face, a gripping fear that told him she was having a nightmare.

If he only knew how horrible it was...

She stood in Faith's apartment once more, sunlight streaming in merrily through the window. Looking in the mirror, she saw that she was still in Faith's body, dressed in a flowing white gown. Buffy took in the room once more, feeling nothing as memories of their fight surfaced in her mind.

"Don't you love the smell of black roses?" Faith asked as she stepped into view, Buffy's body wrapped in the same white silk that adorned Faith's. She held a single rose in her hand, twirling it absentmindedly before gingerly bringing it to her nose and sniffing. "They're sweet with death..."

"I didn't know they could be black and smell like death," Buffy replied, her voice sounding like that of a child's, soft and innocent. Faith's lips turned up in a smile.

"A rose is deceiving," she warned. "All the beauty, the soft petals, the fragrance..." she trailed off, her fingers trailing down to the stem. "They mask the maliciousness of it, the things that hurt. Never trust your first impression, Buffy, because they're often false."

"But I've known you for a year, Faith. It's hardly a first impression."

"Silly child," she said, tossing a strand of golden hair out of her eyes and taking a step towards Buffy, sunlight bathing her face in a soft glow. "You don't even know how to begin looking."

Buffy frowned at the other girl's words. She watched silently as Faith cocked her head to the side as though she was straining to hear a far-off voice. "You have a gift, Buffy...a gift from them."

"A gift..." she echoed.

"You have to know where to look for your answers," Faith warned, reaching out to brush a lock of brown hair from Buffy's eyes. "You have to know who to ask."

"Don't you mean what?" she countered, growing more and more confused at the girl's riddles. The air shifted at that moment and the sunlight that had been filling the room slowly gave way to a chilling darkness.

"You think I wouldn't discover your little secret?" Faith snapped, her voice suddenly cold, the hand that had just tenderly swept a strand of hair from her eyes closing around that same hair and pulling it hard. Buffy nearly cried out in surprise. "I know. And you'll never be able to tell anyone, because-"

Buffy gasped then, not from shock but from a sudden pleasure that shot like white-heat through her body. She trembled under the other girl's biting gaze and the feelings that were whirling wildly through her body. Faith was at it again...

Suddenly she let go of Buffy's hair and backed up. In the blink of an eye, the rose in her hand had turned into Faith's dagger, the same deadly weapon Buffy had used to put her in the hospital. The other girl twirled it between her fingertips, delighting in the cool metal. She turned her wicked smile to Buffy, who stood frozen in sudden terror and pleasure, her breathing heavy.

"Seems I'm always the one getting gutted," she said, sounding almost amused, "while you always end up getting hurt. And this time I won't just be hurting you, I'll be hurting this thing you love so desperately..." She leaned closer to Buffy, who's breath was coming rapidly and body was trembling with need. "Revenge is a bitch, sweetheart...and so am I."

She brought the knife up to her lips and kissed it, feeling the deadly weapon gleam beneath her lips. With a giggle, she patted her stomach reassuringly. " 'Night night, little one," Faith whispered as she gripped the dagger in both hands and drove it deep into her belly before Buffy had the chance to even realize what was happening.

"NO!" Buffy screamed as an orgasm ripped through her body, the emotional pain of Faith's deed overshadowing the pleasure. She gasped in horror as Faith laughed, her voice rasping as blood seeped through the white dress from the deep wound. "My baby!"

With a shudder, she woke up to find Angel looming over her in frantic concern. Buffy had broken out into a cold sweat, and she was crying from the power of the dream and the connection she had with her body. It was so overwhelming and she could do nothing but turn and bury herself in Angel's chest, weeping like a child for a long time before she finally had the courage to look at him.

Angel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and drew her close. "What just happened?" he asked in a soft voice. Buffy swallowed hard, trying to moisten her dry mouth.

"I...I had a nightmare," she whispered, her voice nearly cracking at the word. It had been much worse than a nightmare... "And Faith just got pretty happy because I felt it too..."

Angel sighed. "Did you expect anything less from her? I'm actually surprised it's only happened twice so far," he commented, trying to lighten the mood.

"Angel, it was horrible!" she wailed, clutching him to her again. "What she said...what she did."

"Wanna tell me about it?" he asked, his eyes locked on her reassuringly. She sniffled and sighed heavily, leaning back into the pillow.

"She had a rose...and she said looks were deceiving. And then she had a knife...the one I tried to kill her with. She-she stabbed herself with it...she stabbed my body with it..." she broke off as more tears threatened to overwhelm her. Angel smoothed some wet hair out of her eyes as his brow furrowed.

"You said something...something about a baby," he murmured. Buffy gulped as the air promptly left her lungs.

Her secret was out.

She was silent for a long moment, gathering all the strength and courage she had. When she spoke, her voice was raspy with emotions.

"Angel...I'm pregnant."

The silence that filled the room was harsh and cold as Angel digested her news. The whirl of emotions he felt was overwhelming, jealousy rising through the haze to burn brightly in his soul. She carried a child inside her...Riley's child. He'd been able to give her the things Angel had wanted so badly for her...and now she was going to have a baby.

He didn't know what to say.

In the dark, Buffy shivered and wrapped herself in the blankets, trying to control the shuddering that was still racing through her body from the remnants of bliss she had experienced thanks to Faith. And now Angel knew...and he had nothing to say to her.

"Look, I know you must think I'm such a slut or something, but--"

"No, Buffy, not at all," he cut in abruptly, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp and shifting on the bed. "I would never think that of you. I...uh...I guess congratulations for you and Riley are in order," the vampire stammered.

"Angel," Buffy whispered, her voice soft and somewhat painful, "Riley's not the father."

The room was once again bathed in silence, Buffy refusing to meet Angel's eyes as she spoke to him. It would be too hard to see the disappointment in his eyes...

"Who is, then?" he asked, his voice sounding much harsher than he'd intended. Buffy felt tears well in her eyes.

"I don't know who the father is!" she cried helplessly, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "I was pregnant before Riley and I even started going out, and the only other guy I slept with was a one-night thing that happened in October! The doctor says I'm three months pregnant and--"

"Three months?" Angel repeated, his voice shaky. He'd nearly lost it when she'd mentioned the other man she'd let touch her, but his anger dissipated instantly at her latest revelation. It was the end of February now, which would mean she had gotten pregnant in--

"He says it happened around Thanksgiving," she whispered, playing with the bedspread helplessly, her hands moving on their own volition. "But that's impossible, and--"

"Thanksgiving," Angel echoed, his mind furiously trying to deny what his heart was telling him. It was impossible. That day had been erased and he was the only one with any memory of it... "Does anyone else know?"

She shook her dark head and looked away, the tears in her eyes making the darkened room glisten. "I just found out before Faith showed up. I barely even had time to think about it."

Angel swallowed and glanced at her nervously before looking away again. How could he tell her that there was a very good chance that the baby was his? How could he even think it? She must be wrong...

"Buffy, are-are you sure it's been three months?" Angel asked, turning to look at her. He watched a solitary tear trickle down her cheek and rest at the corner of her lips, and wanted more than anything to be able to take her pain away. She looked at him suddenly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she spoke.

"I'm sure, Angel. I'm three months pregnant."

"Maybe it's some weird Hellmouth thing," he blurted, knowing he was grasping at straws. She was quiet for a moment, studying the lines on her hand. She'd had her palm read once, years before, and the old woman had shown her the line that said she was going to be a mother. It dawned on her that the woman had been right...

"It's not, Angel," she replied, sounding surprisingly sure. She paused, almost ashamed to admit what she said next. "I think that I would know if I had some spawn of Satan growing inside of me. But it feels...different, somehow." Buffy looked at the door leading into the rest of the apartment for a moment. "This is gonna sound crazy but...well, if I didn't know any better I'd say it was yours."

If Angel had had to breathe, he knew the air would have left his body at that moment. He froze and stole a glance at her, his gaze tracing the profile of her face as she stared out into the dark apartment.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, licking dry lips and hoping she wouldn't realize he'd become even paler. She sighed heavily and stifled a yawn, repressing the need for sleep from the draining experience of the nightmare and the stimulation.

"I don't know...maybe I'm just going crazy," she admitted, twisting her hands in her lap. "But...this is gonna sound *so* insane...it feels like there's this part of you that's inside me. I have the tingling feeling I get when you're near...but it's coming from my stomach." She looked at him for a moment, but seeing a mask behind his eyes she looked away again. "God, could I sound crazier?"

Angel was silent for a long time. "I...I don't know what to say, Buffy," he told her honestly. "There's no way I could be the father." Her sigh was deep and sounded of defeat.

"I know," she said. "I mean, I was here for, what, a whole five minutes then, during which I spent about four and a half yelling at you...I was just telling you what I felt." Her tone was sharp and defensive suddenly, as though he had attacked her. Angel grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him, wincing at the painful look she gave him and the tears that shimmered in her dark eyes.

"I know, Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound so harsh," he apologized, softly squeezing her hand. She sniffled and seemed to relax a bit.

"I told you it sounded crazy. I mean, I was thinking about it and I realized there was no possible way, unless I'd gotten some kind of amnesia or something for a few hours, and even then it made no sense because of the whole vampire-can't-have-children thing..." she trailed off and yawned.

Angel smiled nervously. If she only knew...but no, it was better this way. The thought of her carrying his child brought him a joy he hadn't felt in a long time, and it was too risky. Even if by some miracle he was the father of her child, his curse still stood and one moment of true happiness would destroy him...

Before he could say anything in reply, a bright light flashed, blinding the two of them. Buffy instinctively leaned into Angel, clutching him as it faded and her eyes adjusted once more. She gasped softly and tightened her grip on him.

A woman stood in the center of the bedroom, her skin silver with strange blue and gold markings. She wore a wrap that covered her body, and she was smiling at the couple before him.

Angel felt dread deep in the pit of his stomach as he stared.

It was the female Oracle, the same one who'd granted his wish to return to the life of a vampire to save Buffy.

"She speaks the truth, Warrior," the Oracle said softly. "You are indeed the creator of those lives."

Go to Part 6