DISCLAIMER: No I don’t own them, but if I did the world would be a better place.
SUMMARY: This is a story of lost identities and the struggle to discover who it is you really are.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Buffy and Angel. Feelings are revealed. Finally.
SPOILERS: Anything and everything.
DISTIBUTION: This story’s for all. Anybody can feel free to put it on their site if they let me know about it first. And please do, because I would love to have some work posted!
FEEDBACK: Be honest. Be cruel.
RATING: This chapter borders on N-17. I’m not sure if its necessary but just to make it clear that this is NOT appropriate for younger readers.

~*~*~*~*

Together you were powerful. Alone, you are dead.
-‘I will remember you’.

~*~*~*~*

Purple and red and yellow smeared together over the distant horizon, and the sight was beautiful, a rare find indeed in this austere, broken future.

What a future.

Sure, Dawn had always had her doubts. Like if the world happened to end in high school, or if she was killed in some hell battle accidentally, there was no hope for an imminent career as a doctor, or an author, or an orthodontist’s assistant. But she’d always harboured a faith in Buffy, that she would get them through somehow, and that there was something in the way of a future for Dawn Summers that didn’t involve vampires and darkness and slaying.

She’d always said never to rely on people.

“Hey, Dawn”.

The deep, sultry voice cut into her thoughts, and Dawn peered around from her perch on the back stairwell.

Ivy stood with her arms resting on her waist, one hip thrust forward as if daring you to challenge her. The girl always looked like she was posing.

At twenty-three, she and Dawn had naturally become friends once Dawn first arrived on the scene, being the youngest in the group. Ivy was nice, and she was pretty, with glossy long blonde hair and intense dark eyes that had Dawn convinced blonde wasn’t her natural hair colour. She also had an attitude that was match to Faith, and took crap from no one.

Ivy’s bold, bright eyes took in Dawn below her, and a small frown marred her features, before she went on.

“Harvey says you can take off. Says he’s closing the bar for the night. I think he’s entertaining some ‘special customers’ of his.”

‘Special customers’ usually referred to vampires. Anyone Harvey had to bribe for something; electricity, gas, water. And more often than not cigarettes and crack.

Dawn inwardly shuddered, but she plastered a smile on her face. “Cool. Business was getting pretty slow in there, anyway”.

Ivy nodded. “Yeah. They probably got the word that there were gonna be some vamps in tonight and kept clear.”

Dawn made herself smirk.

Ivy flicked her tongue over her lips, turning to retreat back inside. She paused, and raked her dark eyes over Dawn once more as she regarded her levelly. “Oh, I forgot to mention. There was some guy here looking for you before”, she started curiously. “There a new boy you forgot to bring up?”

She kept her voice carefully devoid of emotion, but Dawn knew her better than that, and could tell she was slightly miffed Dawn hadn’t thought to share with her.

Dawn straightened to her feet. “There’s no… guy. Who was he?”

Ivy shrugged. “Search me. I just figured he was your man, and told him to go look for you at home. Only afterwards I found out you were out on a job for Harvey, so if he thinks you stood him up, you can blame me.”

Dawn frowned. “I told you, there’s no guy.”

Ivy’s eyes flashed suspiciously, but she brushed it off just as quickly. “Okay.”

“What did he look like?” Dawn pressed. “Did he… have weird spiky brown hair? Or bleached blonde?”

That’s just what I need, she thought to herself. One of those two ferreting me out.

Though she sort of doubted it was Spike because well… Spike.

Ivy slowly shook her head. “No. Neither. But, damn, he was a hottie. Sort of rugged look about him. I thought he might be a bit old for you, but well… don’t we all mix and match?”

Dawn ignored the statement. Who did she know who fit that description? Nobody came to mind.

“You said you sent him to my place?” she asked, voice strangely hollow.

Ivy frowned. “Well, yeah. I didn’t think it would be much of an issue. Like I keep tellin’ you, I thought you knew him. Listen, if it’s a problem…”

Dawn sighed. “No, it’s okay. He’s probably long gone now at any rate. Just curious here, is all. Honest”.

Well, she wasn’t being honest. Because having some weird guy looking after you at work that you’d never heard of, tended to lean towards ‘Sunnydale’ behaviour. And considering Buffy was suddenly back in town, big sis had probably brought the crap along with her.

Lovely.

She’d cross that bridge when she came to it, Dawn supposed. Right now, all she wanted to do was head home, and curl up under her sheets for a nice long sleep.

~*~*~*~*

For some reason when Angel was handing out rooms, Buffy had been fortunate enough to score a little balcony in hers.

She sat on the ground with her knees drawn up to her chin, and her back pressed against one of the glass double doors that led into the bedroom.

The sun had just set, and there was that sort of low hazy blue glow that usually tinted the sky afterwards. Buffy stared over it dimly, not especially alert to her surroundings, though she knew in all aspects that it was important she should be.

Faith and Cordelia still hadn’t managed to get a hold of the Furies to reinstate the barrier around the building, and Buffy had to wonder if that was coincidence. Whether Wesley had left them open for that one single hit… or if he had more planned.

Willow had tried her barrier spell, but that too, had somehow failed. Willow claimed it was the energy in the air.

So, they were unprotected. And though in theory Willow, Xander and Danielle would probably be safer in their own home, Buffy had made them promise they would stay. She wasn’t going to loose them again.

It was hard to believe the amount things had changed in the past twenty-four hours.

And how much worse things could be, if they didn’t find out how to stop it.

Something shuffled from inside, but Buffy didn’t glance around when she heard soft, purposeful footsteps come her way.

Angel hesitated, then strode onto the balcony and stepped into her line of view.

She tilted an eyebrow impassively up at him, skipping pleasantries all together. She wasn’t in the mood.

“What?” she asked outright. “Need me to Spike sit? Or has the whole camp-out idea fallen on flat ears and we have some knowledge hunt to go on now?”

Angel sighed with annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his back against the steel railing. “No”, he said lengthily. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to see how you were doing”.

Buffy frowned. “Oh, I’m peachy. My ex-watcher is about to plunge the world into eternal darkness and ironically, even if I do save it, we’re pretty much just where we are now. So. How are you?”

Angel scowled. “I just meant… I know it upset you”.

Buffy looked at him, tone sharp. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, Angel, and save us a round seventeen?”

For an ex-vampire, he still looked remarkably broody.

“Fine”, he said tiredly. “I think it’s time we talk”.

Buffy smirked sardonically, shaking her head. “Course. I should have known that’d be coming up any hour now.” She held out her palms questioningly. “Well? You use the word ‘talk’ and I get the feeling this is more a ‘you ask, I tell’ deal. So what do you want to ask me?”

He looked exasperated. “That isn’t why I –“

“Angel, spare me”, Buffy cut in, rising defiantly to her feet. “You can mask your feelings to the others with that whole manly-scowly-thing you have going on, but do you think it fools me?”

He seemed to deflate, and closed his eyes, before regarding her evenly.

“Did something happen between you and Spike?”

It was said carefully noncommittal, but he seemed to have forgotten how to mask emotion in his eyes, because she could read them like a book.

She licked her lips. “I thought you didn’t want to know”, she whispered.

Angel raised his index finger to rub at his temples. “You know, you’re right, I don’t”.

Those eyes said something else.

Buffy took in a deep breath. She didn’t think she could stand Angel hating her on top of everything else, but this tension between them was worse. He needed to hear the truth. The whole truth.

“I slept with him”.

Her voice came out so calm, so levelly, she was sure it wasn’t her own. Angel’s whole body froze up, and he stared at her.

Buffy felt her hands shaking, and she clasped them tightly together in front of her, averting her eyes over the railing to the street below. “I thought you’d already guessed that.”

“I… I guessed. But I didn’t think…”

“I didn’t love him”, she interrupted abruptly. “I never loved him.”

“He has a soul”, Angel pointed out in a soft voice.

Buffy shook her head, hating herself even as she said it.

“He didn’t back then”.

She let the silence blanket around them until it was thick and suffocating. She couldn’t look at him. Of everyone, except perhaps Faith, Angel had accepted her here, despite her sins. He understood what it was like to have a past you weren’t proud of, to crave forgiveness and liberation. But despite what she had said, he did know the monster Spike was. He had created the monster Spike was.

Would he ever forgive her for that?

“You didn’t love him?” Angel repeated at last. It was said as a question, though she had already told him the answer.

Buffy frowned as she forced herself to look upward again. “No”.

“But you had feelings for him?”

Buffy swallowed. How did he do that? How did he furrow out her most sordid insecurities, without her having to say them?

Because he knows you, another, less-familiar voice whispered in her head. A voice she hadn’t heard in a good long time. He knows you like no one ever will.

Buffy felt her lower lip threaten to quiver. “I thought… he could be saved”, she murmured, biting down. “I was wrong. Nothing in Spike wants to be saved. If he ever had a chance… it’s much too late now”.

Angel took this in. He had known this, but to hear it – to hear it from her – was a blow.

Buffy breathed in, and then scoffed deprecatingly. “Yeah, well…”

Angel felt a part of him scream, the part of him that knew his humanity meant he could touch her, he could love her in every sense of the word – without any consequence. What does it matter? It cried. He’s a demon. He’ll never touch her. Darkness would never touch her.

His eyes penetrated hers. She looked old. So tired and old. The light that was Buffy was no longer there, and it had taken him this long to realise it. Someone had taken it away. The damn world had taken it away.

He shook his head, and even as he thought it he bridged the gap between them. His arms wrapped around her. Buffy allowed herself to be pulled, and sagged against him. A single tear coursed slowly down her cheek.

“I’m sorry”, she whimpered.

Her face lifted, and she leant into the warm hollow of his neck, tears soaking his flesh and his arms came up to rest over her lower back.

She inhaled his scent. He was so warm. And there was comfort there, too. Comfort in the circle of his arms, where everything else was despair.

They both tensed at the closeness, as if it only suddenly occurred to them. Buffy swallowed, and her forehead moved to press into the solid wall of his chest, breathing shallow. She could feel her own body quiver, but any thoughts of protest were drowned out of her mind.

Screw this control crap. Screw being mature. She wanted him. She NEEDED him.

Now.

She had always been stronger than him, even when he wasn’t alive. She was the slayer, he was a vampire. A vampire different from the widespread variety, but a demon to the core, her enemy.

The slayer in her clutched at his shirt, and abruptly slammed him into the door, and crushed her mouth over his.

There was no pain here, no darkness, no demons and a world that blamed her. There was just him.

He responded almost immediately, because he needed this too. The longing and desire had been right there between them, ever since they saw each other again; it had always been there. Just caged firmly away, a vain attempt to fill the void in each of them.

It was only a matter of time before it was released.

She was so soft, so warm. He hadn’t felt that warmth in so long. He may have a heartbeat in his now-living chest, but inside it was cold.

His mouth grazed along the underside of her jaw, under her neck, over her scar. But there was no demon within him to tempt him now, because he knew what he had been denied he could finally have, he could have her, because she belonged to him. The mark was a proof that she belonged to him.

Angel nuzzled her neck, and she let out a small moan as his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer to him.

They burst through the open door; hitting it as they went and sending it crashing into the wall, but both were oblivious to the pain.

He pushed her to the wall, mouth hovering over hers, breathing harsh. Buffy’s green eyes trailed to his, but they focused on his mouth, not his eyes, because there was still so much pain there. Her fingers ran over the smooth, cotton front of his shirt, curling into it as his lips descended once more over hers.

They went slowly this time, exploring each other. It had been so long. Their one and only time seemed like a millennia ago to her, The Day That Wasn’t a distant dream to him.

Their lips opened together and she relished the taste as his tongue slid inside her mouth, gently venturing over the long forgotten contours, the sweet, welcome taste. Her slender fingers slid under the front of his shirt; fanning over the smooth, bare skin.

Angel grunted, and drew back slightly, but her touch did not relinquish.

“Buffy…” he murmured to her cheek.

She ignored him, wrenching the shirt up, over his head. Skimming over his chest with her mouth, smiling at the groan he made as he struggled to push her away.

At last, she stopped, flicking her hair back to blink innocently up at him.

“What?”

He released his breath, long, unsteady, unable to read her expression.

“We shouldn’t…”

Buffy rolled her eyes, and then ran her tongue lazily over his lower lip. “Don’t”, she whispered huskily to his mouth. “I need this. You need this”.

He didn’t bother to argue. He was already reclaiming her mouth, kissing her harder, longer, bruising her. His lower body moved against hers, pressing its hardness into the juncture between her thighs. Buffy whimpered, a needy sound, fumbling unsteady hands over his belt, pushing down his pants.

Nothing mattered anymore. The world didn’t matter. Her friends didn’t matter. Why did she care so much about pleasing them, when it was so much easier to just please him?

She threw one leg over Angel’s hip, and he lifted her up, hooking both legs around his waist and resting her lean back against the wall.

They stumbled over the floor, panting and half-dressed, and collapsed just as they made it to the bed. They were animalistic, pure and simple, as their hands roamed over the other, as clothes were thrown across the room, forgotten.

The fire started inside Buffy; so old she had almost forgotten the feeling. It was never like this with anyone else. There had been others, since Spike, but they had never mattered, they had been cold, futile moments of escape, but she’d never escaped. Not like now.

Angel left kisses over her now exposed shoulders as he hitched her blouse roughly over her head, dipping down over the valley between her breasts, which quivered under his exquisite touch. He teased them with his thumb, sliding over their soft smoothness, nibbling over her hard nipples with abandon.

His fingers found the waistband of her pants, and then he was inching them down, flicking his tongue over her belly as he did, then up again, to her chest, the hollow under her neck.

Somehow he managed to get his own pants the rest of the way off, and he stroked the curve of her warm cheek, planting a tender kiss against her lips.

Then he was back inside, to the paradise he would so gladly worship for the rest of his days.

Her body recognised the emptiness in her life and clung to it with an insatiable yearning and hunger, savouring the contact, and they gasped out loud together at the sheer force of it.

This was perfect happiness, and he could feel it – they could feel it – without guilt, without thought.

Their hunger for each other ran so deep, either wasn’t sure it would ever truly be sated.

But this was a good start.

~*~*~*~*

The doors burst in on their hinges, churning dust from the old plaster walls behind. Gunn held forth his one-handed crossbow and decimated the vampire standing to his right without a second glance.

He turned his steely gaze around the room to the startled group of vampires seated in the center, clearly in the middle of a pretty relaxed discussion – if the pair of women giving them a lap dance was anything to go by.

Gunn sneered in disgust, and pointed his weapon on another. He was dust almost immediately, and the blonde haired woman nearby screamed and leapt back.

Gunn barely spared her a look.

The lead vampire rose up to his feet in anger, and Gunn warded him off with a joggle of the crossbow.

“Uh-uh”, he warned flatly. “You be good little vampires and you won’t be joinin’ your man with the carpet mites down there.”

“What the hell are you doing, human?” one snapped from his seat, eyes ticking to the leader uneasily. He was human himself, Gunn had learnt to distinguish the difference. His clothes were creased and smudged with dirt, and his hair was covered in heavy oil and grease that matted to his brow.

The vamp leader meanwhile, had maintained an appearance of outward calm, but it was evident to Gunn he was shaken.

That was good. It meant he wouldn’t need much in the way of persuasion to co-operate.

Gunn’s lip curled over in disgust at the man who allied himself with Them, and his trigger finger momentarily faltered on the weapon. But that wasn’t why he was here.

“If I was you, man, I’d take your pole-dancin’ honeys there and hop on outta here”, Gunn ordered tightly. “Me an’ your undead collaborator here? We got some talkin’ to do”.

The leader wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think so”, he responded coolly.

Gunn rolled his eyes. “Who’s the one armed here?” He waved a dismissive hand at the two women and their boss. “Go!”

The women made no hesitation, and scuttled out of the bar clutching at their skirts and hissing to each other in tense, panicked whispers. Their boss wavered indecisively. His instinct for self-preservation was strong; that was clear in his eyes and the thin bead of sweat that broke out on his forehead. But his fear for things greater than death was more extreme, and he waited for the lead vampire’s order anxiously.

There was no mistake who was master there, no matter what the weaselly man might believe.

The leader glowered. “Leave now Harvey, and you’ll wish Wild Wild West there had cut you a new one”.

Harvey gulped, but obeyed, and slumped back half-heartedly in his chair.

Gunn whirled on the leader. “I want information”, he spat coldly.

The leader scoffed. “You’re not getting it”.

Gunn’s brow flickered in annoyance, and he shot a bolt from the crossbow into the foot of the vampire chair. It penetrated the creature’s thigh before he could react, and he howled in agony, doubling back to clutch at the wound.

“What, are you insane!” he screeched. “Do you KNOW what I could do to you!?”

Gunn frowned. “Do you know what I could do to YOU?” he retorted hotly. “Or do we need another reminder?”

The leader held out his arms, halting the three remaining vampires to his sides, whose eyes all glowed bright yellow and wore the countenance of the vampire. Gunn liked it that way. It made it easier, than to think of the human beings who had once born those features.

“All right!” the beast relented fiercely. “All right! What do you want?”

“Wesley Wyndham-Price”, Gunn snapped, skipping the banter. “Know him?”

The leader raised his ridged brow. “Can’t say I do. What kind of a scary name is that?”

Gunn clenched his jaw. “Okay, maybe we’re not clear on that you are the clinch here, man. So I’ll ask one more time. Where. Is. He?”

The lackey vamps exchanged nervous glances.

“Following in his tracks?” the leader guessed.

Gunn cocked an eyebrow. “Actually, I was told you might know him. Didn’t say he’d been here. But that’s a good start from you.”

The vampire scowled. “If you want to ask anyone about that, ask Harvey here”.

Harvey’s eyes widened noticeably. “HEY!” he protested indignantly. “I don’t know nuthin’!”

Gunn sighed heavily. “I’m REALLY not lookin’ to drag this out. Wes came a’knockin’ up your place? Why?”

Harvey unconsciously shuddered. “Well, he-he was looking for one of my girls”, he admitted diffidently. “She’s been on demand of late so I didn’t take much notice. Until he was gone, and one of my regulars commented that he was W&H’s newest”.

Gunn chortled resentfully. “No surprise there. What did he want? Who was he lookin’ for?”

Harvey looked incredibly uncomfortable at this point. “Well, I was only just informed of the girl’s past. And I can tell you now, if I’d known, there’s no way I would’a hired her!” he added hastily. He averted his eyes. “I just figured he was looking for her because of her past, so… so I sent him to her place. Good riddance, too! She might have her uses, but the chick is damaged goods now!”

Gunn felt a sinking in his gut, but he thought he already knew even before he asked the question.

“What was her name?”

“D-Dawn”, Harvey stammered.

“Dawn Summers”.

~*~*~*~*

Buffy blinked as flashing lights played over her closed eyelids, and shifted against her pillow, resting her head over her arm. She sighed deeply, and slowly her eyes flickered blearily open, focusing slowly on the shadowy room.

Her eyes widened when she remembered, and slowly she swiveled around.

To face an empty space in the bed beside her.

She sucked in a deep, calming breath, and instinctively a swell of fear shot through her, which she quickly dismissed when she realized how ridiculous the notion was.

Angel wasn’t a vampire anymore.

Buffy’s fingers brushed his empty space, and she swallowed back a burning in her throat. The sheets were still warm.

“Angel?” she called softly, as if her voice would somehow, magically, make him appear.

She sighed when silence met her in reply, and sagged back against the headboard of the bed, turning her face to peer out into the starry night horizon.

I slept with him. I slept with… Angel.

And did it mean anything to him? Was he still tingling with the need to be close to her, like she was right now with him?

Then why isn’t he here?

She had never told him, how she felt. They had been so… otherwise preoccupied. But what if he didn’t know? What if he thought she didn’t feel the same?

What if he doesn’t want me, like I want him?

She closed her eyes, unwilling to move from the security of the bed so soon. The warmth she was filled with only hours ago was slowly retreating, and she wanted to salvage it as long as possible. Because she feared when it was gone, she would have to face the truth of reality, and the answers she was going to find might not be the ones that she wanted.

She drew in another lengthy, shaky breath, then swept aside the coverlet and began to retrieve her clothes.

The stairwell creaked under her weight as she descended, making her feel heavy. She combed down her blonde hair negligently with her fingers, and rounded the corner ahead.

Faith and Spike each sat a safe distance away from each other on opposite sides of the kitchen table, both looking incredibly peeved and glaring across the space between them at one another. Buffy felt instantly guilty for dumping Faith with Spike-watch for so long.

Then she felt a familiar tug at her insides, and turned around to see Angel sitting on the arm of the sofa, with Gunn standing tensely by his side.

She felt a sliver of unadulterated relief when his eyes lit up at the sight of her, but the feeling was short-lived when she noticed the taut expressions and uncomfortable atmosphere hovering in the room.

“What happened?” she asked abruptly.

When no one could reply, she turned to Faith and Spike, and noticed the absolutely withering glare Spike was shooting at her back. His lip had curled over in unrequited disgust, and she became conscious of it with a start.

He knows.

Of course he did. She was more that familiar with the ability of a vampire to… smell things humans were inept to, but to realize that she was more or less advertising to him that she and Angel were ‘together’ made it all the more real.

Might as well make it official…

“What is going ON?!” the slayer demanded exasperatedly.

Gunn stepped forward, faltered, then glanced back at Angel.

Angel sighed, and nodded.

“I got a lead on Wesley”, the black man admitted reluctantly. He crossed his arms staunchly, and she hadn’t forgotten what he had said to her before.

Buffy cocked her head expectantly to the side. “And?”

Gunn gulped. “And… well… I don’t think his agenda is as impersonal as we first thought out. He was after something pretty specific. Someone, actually.”

Buffy’s breathing grew harsh. Oh God. Don’t be what I think you’re going to say, please, I couldn’t live, please don’t be, Oh God…

“Who?” she managed to choke out.

It was Angel who said it.

“Dawn”.

He stepped towards her, but she backed away and he stopped.

“When… when did this happen?” she faltered.

Gunn licked his lips. “Not an hour ago. I… I managed to uh… get her address but… it was too late. It was obvious a struggle went down. Buffy… I’m sorry, but I think he’s got her”.

Buffy clenched her fists, and whirled, storming straight for the door.

A tight grip on her upper arm stopped her when her fingers closed around the back door handle, and whirled her none-too-gently to face tghem.

Angel leveled her with a fierce look, not releasing on his clasp.

“What do you think you’re going to do?” he snapped flatly. “You don’t know where he is.”

Buffy glared back. “Yes I do”.

Angel’s mouth fell open. “Buffy, are you crazy?” he hissed. “You’ll never get inside the gates of Wolfram and Hart alive. Or intact. You don’t know them. I do. You are a threat. No doubt. Wesley targeting Dawn, isn’t this just doing what they expect? It’s a trap, and you’re about to walk straight into it!”

Buffy struggled to shake him off. “Wesley would know me better than that. Or you. He’ll EXPECT you to talk me out of it. Whatever he’s using her for, it’s not for a smackdown between me and Wolfram and Hart. So I think I’ll be pretty fine on the getting-my-sister-back-and-beating-someone-down-if-they-get-in-my-way front”.

Angel’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m not letting you leave here, Buffy. I’m not going to just let you go out and get yourself killed! He NEEDS her! Isn’t that clear? And until that stops, he isn’t going to kill her”.

Buffy glared. “Do you understand that I don’t CARE?!”

“Do you understand that I will stop you at any length?” he responded angrily.

Buffy eyed him reproachfully. “I can do you a lot of damage, Angel”, she spat in a low, dangerous voice. “Don’t think my feelings for you will stop that.”

Angel shook his head. “You’re right”, he said. “And whether it actually meant anything to you or not, I still care enough to stop you going through that door”.

“Didn’t mean anything to me?” Buffy said, distracted. “Why the hell do you say that?! Of course it MEANT something to me! It will always mean something to me! Last night you made me feel like I haven’t felt in a long time. You made me feel alive.”

They were only a short breadth apart. Angel stubbornly retained his hold. “We’ll save Dawn, Buffy, I promise”, he murmured. “Together. I can’t do this if you leave me”.

Buffy shivered. “I just… can’t keep dealing with this!” she whispered, eyes moistening.

Angel gently stroked the side of her face with the pad of his thumb. “I know. I know it keeps coming. But we can get through this. You just have to stay strong. Remember?”

Buffy gave a small, bittersweet smile at the memory of those words, said so long ago now. “I remember”.

“Can you do it?” he asked softly.

“If I have to”.

Angel nodded, and finally, he released her. Buffy remained where she was. He turned to go back into the living room, when her fingers clasped suddenly around his arm, pulling him back.

He paused, eyeing her searchingly with his intense, soulful depths. “Buffy?”

“I just… I never got to tell you before”, she said hesitantly. “I… I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

He reached over her cheek, and his fingers sifted her soft blonde hair behind one ear. “I know”, he said simply. “I love you, too”.

He leant towards her, lips brushing against her forehead.

And Willow’s fretful cry broke them apart.

“GUYS!”

The pair raced into the living room, where Willow had just raced down the stairs, Xander following behind her with Danielle clutching at his palm at a much slower pace.

“What’s with the loud, Rosenburg?” Cordelia yelled at her, appearing behind Xander with heavy black ringing her tired eyes.

Willow’s face was pale, and she turned her anxiety-ridden expression onto Buffy.

“The Summoning”, she started. “I know…”

Buffy frowned, glancing at Angel. “What about it, Will?”

Willow looked grim, and she took a moment to compose herself. “Buffy, I… Let me put it this way.

“We’re going home”.

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