Buffy sat alone in the departure lounge of the airport, her solitary bag placed haphazardly on the chair beside her.

The anger and betrayal that she thought would consume her only hours before had all but ebbed away, draining her of her energy, leaving her feeling exhausted and old.

But she couldn’t stop the events of that morning threading their way through her mind.

Her first reaction had been the one she always fell back on when it came to Spike - she ran.

She had felt this overwhelming need to just get out of there. She’d felt stupid for not realising, for not knowing.

She’d been so glad to see him that she’d subjugated rational thought and let herself be carried away by her emotions. She’d ignored the signs, her sixth sense in these things.

Her powers as a Slayer had always enabled her to sense vampires. But some - Spike and Angel being prime examples - she knew so well she could pick them out of a crowd blindfold should she ever need to.

But last night, she’d managed to convince herself without a second thought that the familiar tingle she felt around him, that what she was sensing, was normal. She was so used to it, to always sensing it when he was around, that she’d believed it to be part of how she felt about him.

And she’d been angry at him the next morning - furious that he hadn’t said anything, that he’d let her believe that he was still human.

Self-righteously, she’d initially determined that he’d done it on purpose, that he’d set out to trick her, to fool her. And anyway, it was so easy for her to blame Spike when things went wrong.

*After all,* she mused as she stared out of the window at the tarmac and bright sunshine. *I’ve been doing it for years. I guess old habits die hard.* She laughed quietly as the last vestiges of her initial anger drained away completely. *But I am really pissed off that he didn’t tell me - he should have told me!* she thought to herself in a last ditch effort to hold on to her anger.

And so she had run.

She ran from the graveyard and eventually, as the sun was rising, she’d managed to get a cab to the airport. Her only thought being to leave, she’d bought a ticket on the first plane to Cleveland.

And so she sat, waiting, all alone in a crowd of people, waiting to continue running.

But Spike refused to let her go that easily. Although she knew he couldn’t follow her here through the bright sunlight to her carefully chosen seat next to the window, still, persistent as always, he wouldn’t let her go.

He haunted her even as she ran from him. Memories of the feel of him, of his touch on her body, of his very smell, teased her, making her smile wistfully, even through her anger.

“God, I miss him already,” Buffy whispered to herself, finally letting herself realise the fact, before shaking her head and pulling herself upright in the hard, plastic chair.

*Get a hold of yourself, Buffy,* she mentally told herself. *You’re not allowed to miss him. Remember - Spike, vampire, evil.* She repeated the three words over and over in her mind, trying to convince herself, trying to bring back the anger. Trying to lay all the blame at his door - because if it were his fault then it wasn’t hers.

If she could be angry with him she wouldn’t have to be angry at herself.

If she could only stay angry at his she wouldn’t have to think about the consequences of last night.

She wouldn’t have to think about what Wesley had said - about prophesy always finding a way.

She just couldn’t think about that - she wasn’t ready to think about that yet.

But it was getting harder and harder to stay mad at Spike.

“Final call for passengers on flight UA110 to Cleveland,” the announcement came, starling Buffy out of her thoughts.

She picked up her bag and made her way to the gate, handing over her tickets without really thinking about what she was doing.

Operating almost of autopilot, she walked down the ramp and onto the plane, finding her seat and stowing her bag.

Clipping her seatbelt in place, her mind once again began to wander back to Spike.

Spike the vampire.

For the first time, a thought occurred to her, surprising her slightly that it hadn’t occurred before.

She realised that she had never known Spike as a human. Quite obviously in one respect because he’d died years before she was born.

With this thought came a little traitor of a voice, cutting it’s way determinedly through her arguments and doubts, pointing out the fact that she’d loved him as a vampire, that she’d only ever known him as a vampire, insistently demanding to know why this situation changed anything at all.

Buffy doggedly crushed the voice. *I can’t trust him,* she thought to herself, trying to make it sound like a reasoned argument. *The first thing he did was lie to me.*

*That’s not true - think about it,* the little voice said.

Realisation struck Buffy as she felt the plane jolt forward and taxi towards the runway. She suddenly realised, he had tried to tell her - that was the first thing he’d tried to do.

She just hadn’t listened to him.

She started to rise from her seat, wanting to get off the plane, wanting to go back to him, to tell him that it was alright, but one look out of the window, as the front wheels of the plane left the ground, told her that it was far too late for that.

*~*~

Spike managed to make it to a nearby crypt just as the sun touched the horizon. He staggered inside and slammed the door shut behind him, safe once more from the sun’s harsh rays.

He dropped to the ground where he stood, not having the energy to move any further - part of him wondering why he’d bothered to come this far. That was the part of him that had given up when she’d left - the part of him that had wanted to simply lie there and wait for the sunrise. To give up on this joke, on the torture that his unlife had become, at this masochistic love he held for the petite blonde woman who seemed to revel in holding out his wildest dreams, in letting him touch what he never thought he could have, before ripping it from his grasp just as he dared to believe it to be his.

But the other part of him was stronger - it always had been. The stubborn streak that had got him this far, that piece of him that meant that he could never give up, never surrender and take the easy way out.

So here he was, back in a dank, dusty crypt, sheltering once more from the lethal rays of the sun, reduced once more to feeling like the monster rather than the man.

He thought back to the moment, only a few days ago, when he’d come to the realisation that he was meant to be like this - meant to be a vampire. That he’d been miserable as a human. He’d been happy at the time, rejoicing in what he saw as his epiphany.

Now, lying on his back, staring up at a grey ceiling coated in many-layered cobwebs, he snorted derisively at his naivety. He realised then that, had he been truly happy as a vampire, truly comfortable at what he had become, then he would have been behaving as a ‘normal’ vampire should.

A normal vampire didn’t drink pig’s blood, bought - with actual money - from the local butchers. A normal vampire didn’t go rescuing damsels in distress from things that go bump in the night.

*Bloody hell,* Spike thought to himself. *I should be one of those nasties that mothers tell their children about to scare them into behaving. I am one of those nasties. I’m the bloody Big Bad. No Slayer watching over my shoulder now, no chip, no soul and here am I, still trying to play the part of the hero - knowing that it’s what she would want me to do.*

He growled to himself as he picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off.

He thought back to the night that he’d been turned, to the first feel of clean night air against his skin, when he’d let his senses wander out into the night, picking up the life that he’d been blind to as a mere human. He remembered the way his senses had peaked as he had picked up the first heartbeat, the first smell of warm blood from a nearby human. His demon had reacted instantly, but, to his own surprise, Spike had immediately and almost automatically quelled it, pushing it far down inside, denying it what it most wanted.

The surprise had passed quickly as Spike realised that the past few years had given him a control over his demon that he’d never thought possible.

Spike hadn’t let himself think to closely of his motives in not killing, for to do that would be to admit that she was the reason behind his every action. He’d decided that his motive must have been that he knew humans too well know, had lived amongst them too much, as both man and monster, to harm them - and anyway, he had justified to himself, saving them had become a habit.

He’d never let himself admit that, even when he never thought to see her again, his motives might have be driven by a wish never again to do anything that would see her look upon him with disappointment, or even to think about him in that way.

And so, his own personal vendetta had begun that very night, the night of his rebirth. He had fought hard that night - he had needed to. The violence, even inflicted upon demons, had helped keep his own demon in check.

He had found it hard at times, to keep control, without a soul, without the guidance of a proper conscience, but so far he had managed it.

*Plus,* Spike thought with a smile as he paced round the crypt, wishing he’d had the time to look for somewhere more spacious to spend his daylight hours. *I have to admit, I do get a kick out of it, but where’s the harm in that?*

He’d never thought he’d actually see her again. Once turned, he’d abandoned his plans to go to her without really reasoning why. *Guess now I know,* he thought with a twinge of bitterness. The documents and the money he had been sent were still ferreted away where he could easily access them, but he had had no intention of using them.

Spike hoisted himself up onto sarcophagus and let his thoughts wander once more. He momentarily thought about going on a killing spree, of letting himself become what she obviously imagined he was, but almost instantaneously rejected the idea, realising that he really didn’t want to. He shrugged as he thought about this, realising that it was a little strange - his demon had shown almost no reaction to his mental suggestion. Even if he hadn’t been serious, his demon would have normally been champing at the bit that he’d even entertained such a thought. Now, though, it was quiet - quieter than it had been for a long time.

He considered going after her, of swallowing his pride, of tracking her down to wherever she’d run to now and begging her to listen, to give him another chance. There was, after all, he considered, a good likelihood she’d run back to Cleveland and he had her details there.

He dismissed the thought with an angry shake of his head as the vision of the look of outraged disgust that had graced her normally beautiful face flashed before his eyes. No, he couldn’t go running after her, not now, he resolved.

He closed his eyes and tried to rest, tried to sleep, willing the bright light of day to pass and for the welcoming dark of night to descend, for the world to once more become the simple realm of fight and kill, of blood and pain.

He sensed the figure standing in the shadows and didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said. “It’s daylight - how’d you get in here, Angel?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Spike.” Angel said, walking out from the shadows where he’d been silently standing watching the blonde for some time. “You’re not the only one who knows how to move about during the day, you know - and I’ve had a lot more practice at it than you.” He stood by Spike’s head and looked down at him. “You’ve picked yourself up then, I see.”

“Yeah,” Spike said, opening his eyes and swinging himself round in one fluid motion to sit on the edge of the sarcophagus. “Some of what you said, well, I guess it made sense,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

“But you decided you didn’t like being human? After all that?” Angel asked, a trace of bitterness entering his tone, his face an emotionless mask.

“It wasn’t like that,” Spike replied, missing the edge to the older vampire’s tone. “But now that you mention it…”

“Shoulda know you’d waste it, you never did know a good thing when you had it.”

“Really,” Spike drawled, cocking his head and looking at Angel. “Thought that was more your speciality,” he taunted.

“Get real, Spike. Opportunity like that - should have known that you’d throw it away. That’s why it was never meant for you - that prophecy was meant for me,” Angel said calmly, seriously.

Spike looked at him intently, frowning slightly. “Mate, that’s not the way prophecy works and you bloody well know it. I had no choice in the matter - no one asked me whether I wanted it. We’ve gone over this one before, so don’t you go all jealous and possessive on me.”

Spike didn’t even have time to react as Angel grabbed him by the throat and lifted him bodily off the floor. He grappled at the older vampire’s hand which was squeezing round his throat as he tried to pry himself lose.

“You did it on purpose, you know you did. That prophecy was meant for me. You deprived me of my destiny, took what’s mine, like you’ve done time and time again,” Angel growled before launching Spike across the crypt to land again the back wall.

Spike shook himself and pulled himself up from the floor, wondering what on earth was going on. “What the bloody hell are you on, mate?” he asked as he approached the larger vampire, warily.

“Nothing, just did some thinking, that’s all. You’re a menace, Spike,” Angel said, as if instructing a small child. “You think you’re special - you’re not. You need to realise that.”

“And so, you’ve come all the way back here to let me know that by what? Throwing me against a wall a few times? Not gonna work, mate - been there, done that,” Spike said, forcing a cocky smile onto his face while he tired to work the pain out of his back where he’d landed only moments before.

The two vampires circled each other, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Angel was ready for Spike when he finally launched himself forward and easily caught him, flipping him over his shoulder, towards the door. Spike landed heavily against the closed door to the crypt and the back of his mind registered the fact that it creaked and moved disturbingly as he hit it.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but …” Spike said, playing for time as he considered his next move.

“You - you’re my problem Spike. You always have been. Thorn in my side, pain in the ass - call it what you will. And I’ve put up with it, but not any more,” he said as he punched Spike hard in the face, knocking him back into the door once more. The door creaked a little more and Spike heard one of the boards crack under his weight. He danced quickly away from the door, worried that if he was launched into it one more time it’d give way completely, propelling him out into the bright sunlight.

“That all you got, granddad, cos I hardly felt that last one,” Spike taunted, moving closer to the older vampire, casting his eye around for something he could use for a weapon. His gaze fell on a bar that was lying on the floor, torn off the metal spiked fence which surrounded the crypt. He quickly picked it up, straightening quickly and spinning round in a fluid motion to catch Angel under the chin with the bar, throwing him across the crypt. Angel collapsed in a heap on the floor and lay still.

Spike tossed the bar on the floor and walked towards the motionless vampire cautiously, hardly daring to believe that it could be that easy. He moved to kick Angel’s outstretched hand, only to have his ankle grasped on impact.

Angel opened his eyes as he tossed Spike backwards, toppling him off his feet to land hard against the sarcophagus. “You surely didn’t think it would be that easy, did you Spike?” he asked condescendingly, as he walked towards Spike, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips in triumph.

“Live in hope,” Spike answered, trying and failing to sound nonchalant as he wiped the blood from the corner of his now split lip.

Angel’s only answer was a hard right hook which threw Spike once more to the floor. He lay there for a moment, nursing his jaw and taking an unneeded breath as he contemplated whether his day could get any worse.

The thought was banished from his mind as a kick from Angel caught him in the stomach, launching him up off the floor and over the top of the sarcophagus. He saw the door coming before he hit it and sent a little prayer to whoever may be listening that it would hold.

He hit the door and knew straight away that he’d been ignored as the old wood splintered under the impact. He tried to curl himself up into a ball as he entered the bright sunlight, incongruously noticing Angel retreating back into the far depths of the crypt as Spike fell to a fiery end.

Spike heard a scream and for a moment wondered who was screaming. It was only just before he impacted with the ground that he registered that the sound was emanating from his own mouth.

He hit the ground hard, curled up into a little ball as he waited for the familiar burning pain to start, wondering if it would be the same this time round, wondering if he would finally die and stay dead this time. He wondered if Buffy would even wonder what had happened to him, or if she would consider herself well rid of him and never again give him a second thought.

And then he wondered why he had time for all this wondering. He’d seen what sunlight did to vampires, witnessed it many a time, and been the cause of it most of those times. He should be dust by now. He slowly registered the gentle play of warm sunlight against his skin - a not unpleasant sensation, especially when compared to the burning agony he’d been expecting.

He slowly dared to lift his head from where it had been cradled under his arms, blinking in the bright light. He brought his hands down and looked at them, turning them this way and that in the light, wondering at the fact they were still intact.

*What the hell?* he thought as he picked himself up.

He looked around, eyeing the crypt cautiously. There was no sign of Angel and Spike could only imagine that he was right at the back of the crypt, sheltering from the sunlight, imagining Spike long since dusted in the daylight. Spike decided that now was not a good time for another confrontation - not with the severe bruising he already had from this one.

*And anyway,* he thought to himself as he set off across the graveyard. *I need to find someone who can tell me what the bloody hell is going on.

*Maybe I’m going to need that ID after all.*

A/N - Okay, hands up - who thought I was going to kill Spike off?

I know, I know - first I vamp him and then I throw him into sunlight - cruel, aren’t I?

Let me know what you think…

Andrea held back a sigh of frustration as she concentrated on maintaining the fixed and friendly smile she’d donned in the face of the petite woman who was standing at the other side of the check-in desk, wanting what increasingly seemed to be the impossible.

She massaged her temple as she felt the return of her headache, chased away earlier in the day by a dose of aspirin. She really didn’t need this - just when she thought she would make the end of her shift - and on today, of all days.

She’d know that today’s shift was going to be a nightmare - that had been obvious the moment she’d arrived at the surprise party her friends had thrown for her last night in honour of her birthday. She’d had more than one too many to drink and now was suffering for it. Her perfectly applied, if somewhat thick, makeup was all that concealed her pale and pasty hangover complexion whilst her crisp and smart airline uniform meant that most people didn’t look any further and notice the slight slump in her posture caused by the exhaustion of only managing to grab a couple of hours sleep before she had to rise for work.

She’d been counting down the minutes until the end of her shift since she arrived at work this morning and this woman in front of her was now the only thing between her and a long bath and a much needed additional dose of aspirin. She increased the size of her fixed smile slightly and handed the credit card back to the woman who was doggedly refusing to leave.

“I’m sorry, madam. This one has been refused as well.” Andrea’s eyes flickered to the ever-growing queue which had formed behind the woman, to the looks of frustration, impatience and anger forming on the people who still had to check in. *Oh yeah,* she thought to herself. *Today is just turning out to be peachy.* She concealed a grimace behind the smile as another twinge ripped through her head - her headache was back in full force now.

“What?” the blonde woman said, taking the card and examining it as though she would find some obvious fault which would reveal the reason why it had just been refused.

“I’m afraid that we cannot accept that card for payment. Now, if you have no other means of payment, I’m going to have to…” Andrea started, seeing this as a way to finally get rid of the blonde.

“No! No, please - can’t we try the first one again? I’m sure that there was enough left on there. There has to be, I…” the blonde exclaimed, abandoning all her earlier calmness and certainty and letting a hint of sheer panic enter her voice.

“I’m sorry - that card was rejected as well. Now, if you don’t have any means of paying, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Andrea said firmly, finally dropping the smile.

“But, but - you don’t understand!” the blonde spluttered. “I have to get on that flight - I need to get back to California!”

“I’m sorry, madam. But if you can’t pay for the ticket, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Andrea said, finally reaching the end of her patience with the woman. She looked past the blonde to the next man in the line - a balding, middle aged business man by the looks of it, who appeared less than thrilled at the length of time he had been forced to wait. “Next please!”

The business man picked up his suitcase and marched to the desk, unceremoniously brushing the petite blonde to the side and dumping his case on the conveyor belt. Andrea caught the look of disbelief on the woman’s face and honestly thought for a minute that the tiny woman was going to thump the much larger man, before se seemed to think the better of it and stormed off towards the exit. Andrea’s attention was drawn back to the business man as he coughed impatiently

“About time!” he exclaimed in a severely disgruntled tone. “I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to make my damn plane!”

“Don’t worry, Sir, there is plenty of time for you to get to the gate,” Andrea replied, trying to placate the man.

This was definitely a bad day.

*~*~

Buffy paid the cab fare with the last of her money and stood in the driveway to the mansion, her single bag at her feet, as the cab drove off. She looked up at the large house, eyes sweeping over its many windows, seeing the vague shapes of people walking its many corridors inside. Life carried on whether she was here or not, but she felt so isolated and despondent at the moment.

The incident at the airport had been humiliating and degrading. She still considered with a hefty measure of disbelief her behaviour, and the fact that she’d allowed herself to be reduced to practically begging that straight-laced and superior-acting woman for a ticket.

She sighed and picked up her bag, knowing that there was only one place to go if she wanted that ticket. Only one person to see - but she hated to ask him for money.

*~*~

Buffy knocked on Giles’ door and softly entered as he looked up from his desk, surrounded - as he always seemed to be these days - by piles of books and papers.

He smiled as she walked across the large room and he rose from behind his desk to meet her, directing her towards the sofa that stood alongside one of the side walls of the room. He looked tired and slightly drawn and Buffy realised that he was, yet again, working too hard, but she also knew that he wouldn’t listen if she reminded him of that fact. She knew that this place was his dream and that he was determined to make a success of it, to ‘do things right this time’ as he put it.

“Buffy. You’re back already,” he said, sounding slightly surprised, as he took a seat on the sofa next to her. “I didn’t expect you back for a few days, at least.”

“Yes, well…” Buffy started, not sure how to explain what had happened.

“I take it that you didn’t find him then?”

“Oh no - I found him alright.”

“Then, why are you back already? Or is he here?” Giles asked, sounding confused.

Buffy sighed and decided that the short version was probably the best. “Let me put it like this. I found him, it was all going great, then I put my foot in it, completely over-reacted and by the time I’d realised that I’d over-reacted, I was on a plane back to Cleveland.”

“Oh.” He paused. “I take it that there’s more to it than that?”

“Yes, but I don’t really want to go into it right now,” Buffy answered him, wondering in the back of her mind why she was avoiding telling Giles the whole truth about Spike.

Giles simply nodded, more than used, by now, to his Slayer being non-communicative. He was confident that she would tell him what had happened when she felt the time was right, and he was equally confident of her ability to deal with her problems herself.

“There is one thing though…” Buffy said hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“And you know I wouldn’t ask unless I really needed to…”

“What is it?” Giles said, wondering what was coming, if she felt the need to cushion the blow first.

“It’s about Spike, and California. See, the thing is, like I said before, I was on the plane home before I’d realised what I’d done. I really messed up Giles. And I need to fix it - I have to go back.”

“Then go back. We can cope here without you.”

“I know you can - I knew that when I left before,” she said with a smile. “But that’s the problem - my little skip around the world. It’s - well, it’s left me mostly broke right now. My trip to California and back took the last of my money.” She smiled hopefully.

“And you want me to lend you some more to go back out there?” Giles concluded for her.

“Yes. Just for a little while - I’ll pay you back next month. It could be like a, like an advance on my wages,” she offered, knowing that the money would be coming from the same source as if it was. Since the school opened, she’d been on the list of teaching staff and had a healthy pay packet to go with it. Giles had thoughtfully taken the view that her various ‘disappearances’ over the last year formed a sabbatical from her job and had continued to pay her whether she taught or not. She appreciated his acceptance of her need to have a break from her responsibilities, but had only just started to realise that she had been more than willing to take advantage of his good will.

Giles sat in silence for a few minutes, considering her request and Buffy started to worry that he would deny her. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Of course - but this is an advance and it will be taken out of your wages.”

Buffy smiled and slumped back against the sofa in relief.

“But…” Giles said in a tone Buffy recognised that brooked no complaint. “But you look like you haven’t slept since you left - you’re a shambles.”

Buffy blushed slightly as she remembered that she had slept - a little anyway - but it had hardly been in the most conventional of places.

“So, you will go and have a long shower and get some food and rest. I’ll book you on a flight back this evening.” Giles saw the look of protest forming on her face. “No arguments now - a flight back this evening and you rest in the meantime. Okay?”

Buffy considered arguing, but realised that it was pointless. “Okay,” she agreed meekly.

Giles smiled a little as he watched Buffy walk out of the room. He was proud of her - proud of the woman she’d become. He just wished that she would confide in him a bit more often, but that had never been her way and was unlikely to ever change.

He wondered what exactly had happened out in California - that something had happened there was no doubt. He stood and, walking over to sit at his usual position behind his desk, he picked up the report he had been working on when Buffy returned. He started reading, but soon realised that he had been reading the same paragraph over and over without digesting any of the content, his mind preoccupied with Buffy’s sudden reappearance and her eagerness to be gone once more.

His feelings about Spike were, as ever, mixed. He had yet to be convinced that the man - as Giles supposed he would now have to consider him to be - was good for the woman he had come to view as a daughter. He laughed slightly as he realised that he truly did have parental feelings towards Buffy - like a true father no one would ever be good enough for his little girl. But Spike. Giles sighed again. He had accepted during the past year, through observation and conversations with Dawn, Willow and Xander, that Buffy had actually loved Spike - that it was more than the simple infatuation he had first thought it to be, more than a passing fancy. But he continued to have his misgivings about him. He put a great deal of the blame for the misgivings on his past as a Watcher. His training and experience over the years had given him a healthy distrust for vampires - especially those like Spike who left a trail of mayhem behind them and arrived on a wave of notoriety. But he knew better than to attempt to influence Buffy in matters of the heart - she would chose her own path regardless of his opinions and he wasn’t about to risk alienating her by preaching.

Giles threw the report down on the desk and decided that he wasn’t going to get any more work done right now. He left his office and, deciding that distraction would be the best cure, went in search of a class that he could sit in on.

Buffy turned off the shower and stepped out of the cubicle. Wrapping a large towel around herself and grabbing another one for her hair, she padded into her bedroom and sat down at the vanity table. She looked into the mirror and examined the face staring back at her.

She thought back over the past weeks and all of the surprises it had brought. She couldn’t believe that less than a week ago she had been sunning herself on a beach in Thailand, chatting to the locals, swimming in the sea - finally doing all the things she’d been longing to do during her time in Sunnydale. She’d thought that she’d finally been given the opportunity to start to lead a normal life.

And now, less than a week later, she was back on the Hellmouth - albeit a different one. Her old life, it seemed, was loathe to let her go.

Her mind returned inexorably to Spike. Always to Spike. She’d tried so hard to forget about him, to move on. But he had haunted her every moment. She relived their last days together every night, at first wondering if she could have done something to save him, if there could have been another way, but her practical mind had soon swept those thoughts away. There was no other way and Buffy had decided quickly that to pursue any attempt to find one would have been to diminish and devalue his sacrifice - and she couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. Her real regret, however, was that he hadn’t believed her when she’d told him she loved him.

At first she’d tried to justify what he’d said - to make herself believe that he’d only said those things because he wanted to make her leave, that, right up until the end, he’d been thinking of her. But she hadn’t been able to fool herself. He hadn’t believed her. Even when she’d managed to tell him, he hadn’t believed that she could love him. That was what caused the majority of her sleepless nights. She’d known, even as she said the words, that she’d left it too long, left it far too late. She’d been waiting, always finding an excuse to put off saying those three little words. Always justifying to herself why ‘now’ wasn’t the right time. Then, suddenly, he was dying right before her eyes and she realised that she couldn’t put it off any longer.

That’s when she’d come to realise that there was no such thing as a ‘perfect moment’.

She sighed and reached for the brush to untangle her long, damp locks.

*And then I go from one extreme to the other,* she thought sardonically.

When Wesley had made his announcement in the library - *Was that only yesterday?* she thought, marvelling at how time had sped by since then. After Wesley’s announcement, her only thought had been to act. All her supposed claims which she had made to herself that she was ‘over him’ had fled before the one fact that he was alive. Her only thought had been to go to him, to find him, to convince him that she loved him.

And that’s what drove her out of the mansion that day - the knowledge that she had been gifted another chance. One that she wasn’t going to waste by prevarication and delay. She’d lost him before by making that mistake and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

She laughed harshly to herself as she thought of the problems her very haste had caused and wondered if it would have been different if she’d taken things a little more slowly - if she’d only taken the time and talked to him. It was what she’d meant to do, after all.

She paused for a minute as she realised this, setting her brush down as she stared into the mirror.

Why had she gone and thrown herself at him like that? It hadn’t been what she’d been planning to do. She thought back to the flight over to California, how she’d been planning for hours what she would say to him - how they would talk and take things slowly. She frowned - it was strange, jumping him like that had never been on the agenda. Then she saw him and all that just disappeared - almost as though it was someone else in control.

She shook her head as she picked up her hairdryer - there was no use dwelling on that now. *What’s done is done and all I can do now is try to pick up the pieces,* she thought wearily and she started to dry her hair.

She heard the loud knock at the door clearly above the noise of the hairdryer. Setting it down, she opened the door and smiled as Willow entered.

“Hi,” she said, genuinely glad to see her friend.

“Hi, there - I heard on the grapevine that you were back,” Willow said, taking a seat on the edge of Buffy’s large bed.

“Grapevine? We have a grapevine?” Buffy asked with amusement.

“Yeah - it’s called ‘bored Giles’. He came as sat in on one of my classes. Apparently, he lost his concentration for those endless reports he’s always trawling his way through. He mentioned you’d just got back, but were only here for a few hours. So, what I wanna know it - what happened? And I want all the juicy details, so no leaving anything out missy.”

“Missy?” Buffy replied, trying hard to hold back the laughter.

“Whatever - just tell me! Did ya find him?”

“Yes, yes - I found him.”

“And…” Willow probed.

Buffy’s face fell as she thought about it once more and she wondered whether she wanted to tell Willow what she had done. She looked up into the face of her best friend and found her answer. She smiled. “I found him in a graveyard - fighting vampires,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Typical Spike, right?” Willow asked. “So, did you go somewhere and talk?”

Buffy’s face fell. “No, not really.”

“Not really? What do you mean. You did talk to him - right?” Willow asked, confused.

“Not exactly…” Buffy prevaricated.

“I don’t understand…”

“Well…”

“Yes?” Willow prompted.

“I was going to talk to him - I have every intention of us going somewhere and having a long chat about everything, but…” she paused, looking down at her hands.

“Yes…”

“I, er, we, well, sorta got, well,” she took a deep breath. “Distracted?” she asked in a hopeful tone, hoping that Willow would understand.

“Distracted,” the redhead asked uncertainly then, after a moment, her eyes widened and she looked again at her best friend. “You mean you…and he… with the… and the…” she asked, babbling as she was wont to do at times like these. Buffy took pity on her.

“Yes, Will. I mean we ended up sleeping together. Not my finest moment, after all my promises to myself. I didn’t want it to happen this way, not after all Spike and I have gone through - not exactly the best way to pick up our relationship again…”

Willow blushed slightly and bit her lip. “I take it that you used precautions - I mean, with him being all human again and all,” she asked.

“Not exactly…” Buffy answered, realising that it had never occurred to her. *Another fine Buffy moment,* she thought to herself as she added that fact to the catalogue of errors that had been the latest meeting of her and Spike.

“Buffy!” Willow declared, sounding slightly shocked. “I mean, I thought you knew better.” She caught the look on her friend’s face and realised she didn’t need to lecture the blonde. She quickly toned down her approach. “Though, I guess it’s probably okay - he’s not been human all that long, so I bet we can rule out any diseases,” she thought and then her face lit up as an idea came to her. “And, and, well, there’s that prophecy thing about you, which means that you’re not likely to get pregnant from sleeping with a human, so that’s probably okay too. I mean, now that Spike’s not a vampire and…” she trailed off as she looked at Buffy. “What?” she asked warily. “What did I say?”

Buffy fell quiet for a second, not daring to look at her friend sitting next to her. She’d known that she’d have to someone sooner or later and now it looked like this was the moment. But she was loath to admit her stupidity - and that was how she viewed it. She’d been okay with the fact that Spike was a vampire again for a number of hours now - almost since the moment she’d left the ground at LA - but she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that she’d done something so completely stupid as to sleep with him. To admit to it, to face up to that fact, would be to have to face the possibility that the prophecy had found its way, even in the face of all her protestations that she could control it.

“Buffy?” Willow asked, concerned by her friend’s sudden silence.

Buffy shook herself out of her daze and took a breath. “Spike - he’s a vampire.”

“What?” Willow asked, not sure that she’d heard Buffy correctly.

“Spike’s a vampire,” Buffy repeated.

“No - he’s human. I mean, that’s what Wes said. He said that Angel had been very clear about it - he’d come back to LA all ranting and raving about it, about it being unfair and not right and how it should have been him and everything. I talked to Wes after you’d gone and everything. Spike’s human.” Willow said, barely pausing for breath in her eagerness to put Buffy’s mind at rest.

Buffy smiled. “Wes was right - Spike was human. But somewhere between Angel meeting him and me getting there, he was turned, I guess. But he’s definitely a vamp again. You know - me Slayer, him vampire - I have a knack for these things.”

Willow’s eyes widened as she took in what Buffy was saying. “That means…” she started and Buffy nodded, knowing what Willow was thinking. Willow rose from the bed and grabbed Buffy’s hand. “And this was last night?” she asked.

“Yes,” Buffy said, standing so that she was level with the redhead.

“Then we have to go and talk to Wes, right now,” she said hurriedly as she pulled Buffy towards the door. Buffy stopped, refusing to go any further.

“Oh no,” she proclaimed. “No way, not right now. I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, Will - I’m dressed in a towel. No way I’m going to see anyone until I get dressed.”

*~*~

“And this one is…?” Wes prompted, holding up a card with a complicated sigil on it.

“Fortune, of course. Though it is often confused with the Itingian symbol for chaos by someone who doesn’t know their demon languages as well as I do! Can we stop this now - we’ve been at this for hours. Surely you must be convinced that I’m able to translate Xygian by now?” Dawn moaned, slumping back into her chair.

She’d been studying demon languages in whatever spare times she could find since they arrived in Cleveland, but Wesley had been less than convinced when Giles had told him about the progress she’d made and this was his test. She’d been locked away in the library with him all day whilst he had her translating obscure texts that he’d - for some unfathomable reason - seen fit to bring with him from LA. His latest idea was to get her to identify single symbols which he’d drawn on card to see if she could identify them out of context. As far as Dawn was concerned, the whole exercise was a complete waste of her time. She knew she could translate demon languages - or at least a good handful of them - she’d found them easy and seemed able to pick them up at will.

“Yes, that will do for today,” Wesley said, setting his pile of cards down on the table.

”’That will do for today’?” Dawn said in disbelief. “No ‘Thank you Dawn’ or possibly ‘I belief you now Dawn, sorry I doubted that you could answer every single question correctly’?”

“I believe we’re done here,” Wesley said simply, standing up and walking towards the door. In fact he was very impressed with Dawn’s ability and progress. And, he allowed himself to admit silently, he was a little jealous at the ease with which she seemed to have accumulated her skills. It had taken him years under the watchful and ever critical eye of his father to accomplish what she seemed to have achieved in little over a year. But he knew that it would do nothing for Dawn’s long term ability if he told her that now. He knew that it was harsh, but also knew that it would be harder on her in the long run if he lead her to believe that she was exceptionally gifted - something which he was coming to believe with more conviction every time he talked to her. So, he found himself reverting to the person he hadn’t been for years now and acting coldly towards her - something that he berated himself constantly for, yet something he didn’t seem to be able to control.

As he reached the door, he was surprised to find it open in his face. Stepping back quickly, he moved aside as Willow hurriedly entered, towing a dishevelled-looking Buffy behind her. Wesley held back a laugh as he looked at the blonde and took in the fact that she looked as if she’d dressed in the dark - either that or thrown on whatever clothes she’d found lying around.

Dawn seemingly read Wesley thoughts as she burst out laughing. “Buffy! What the hell are you wearing?” she crowed from her seat across the library.

“Wes,” Willow said, ignoring Dawn’s comment and the irritated look Buffy shot towards her sister. “We need to talk. I think that I may have worked out what went on last night.”

“Really?” Wesley asked, suddenly sounding keen and walking back into the library.

“Yes. Buffy and I were talking and…” Willow trailed off as there was a small knock at the library door and Emma poked her head round. She looked around the room and then her face broke into a big grin as she saw Buffy.

“Oh good. You’re back. I didn’t think that you were but thought that maybe you were and the man outside told me to go look for you cos I wouldn’t let him inside cos he’s a stranger and Xander told me never to let strangers into the house. But the man wants to see you and he told me to say that it was important so I left him outside and said that I would come and see if you were back but I told him that I didn’t know if you were back but you are so will you come and see the man?” Emma paused and took a breath, seemingly oblivious to the looks of shock from the adults that someone so small could speak for so long without stopping.

Buffy looked at the others and shrugged. “I’m not expecting anyone,” she said, clearly bewildered.

“You’d better go and see who it is,” Wesley said, “But come straight back - Willow and I will wait to discuss her news until then.”

Buffy nodded and followed Emma out of the room, silently wondering whether she would get a moments peace alone with her thoughts. She tried to concentrate on what the little girl was saying as she led her along the corridors toward the front gate.

“…and Xander always told me that I wasn’t allowed to say that strange people can come into the house and I told the man that and the man said that that sounded bloody sensible - what does that mean?” Emma asked curiously as Buffy suddenly slowed, looking at the little girl in astonishment.

Collecting herself, she realised that the girl was waiting for a response. “It means it’s a phrase that little girls shouldn’t be saying. And you left this man outside?” she asked, her eyes inexorably drawn towards the large windows and the streams of sunlight pouring in to light the corridor.

“Yes!” Emma declared proudly.

“Oh, God!” Buffy exclaimed as she let go of Emma’s hand and set off at a run towards the front door.

She hit the front door at a run - throwing it open and launching herself out into the bright daylight. She scanned the shadows for Spike, eyes searching the trees and bushes that surrounded the gravel driveway, her heart in her mouth as she tried to control the sudden panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Looking for me, luv?”

She stopped and her head whipped round, following the sound of the too familiar voice. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight which greeted her.

He stood casually, leant against the fountain which formed the centrepiece of the driveway, the sun blazing down on his form.

“But… you… Huh?” Buffy stuttered, lost for words.

“My sentiments exactly, pet. Not sure myself.” He pushed himself off the statue and walked across the gravel towards her. “But mind if you invite me in now, cos one thing I found out on my brief sojourn as a man - I burn really easily.”

Buffy stood and stared as he walked past her and up to the doorway, her mind unable to process what she was seeing. Finally, it gave up and she simply followed him wordlessly.

“Come in, Spike,” was all she could manage as they entered the mansion.

Spike kept his eyes straight ahead as the entrance-hall to the mansion opened up before him. Buffy was following him, some six or seven paces behind him, but he didn’t look back. He focused on placing one foot in front of the other, knowing without seeing that she was following – he could feel her behind him, was aware of her presence at some unknown level, as he was always conscious of her when she was near – he always had been and it was something he’d never sought to question.

He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t look at her. He wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet. His mind swam with conflicting thoughts and emotions, confusing him until the very process of thought seemed overwhelming.

His eyes scanned the entrance hall, taking in the sheer size of the cavernous room, the sweep of the grand staircase as it disappeared onto another floor, the deep red carpeting beneath his feet. He wondered yet again what he was doing here, suppressing once more his fears about being here, trying to put the knowledge that what he was disgusted Buffy so much that she had run from him. He slowed slightly as he wondered whether he was doing the right thing, half wishing that he hadn’t come, that he’d found another way, someone else to help him figure out what had happened to him.

But still, the other part of his mind was distracted, aware of the presence of the slayer behind him, clocking her every movement, every breath she took, the movement of her hair in the slight breeze blowing through the still open doorway. That part was revelling in her very presence, in knowing that she was near. And nothing could have dragged that part of him away from here right now.

He closed his eyes momentarily against the conflict in his mind. Opening them, he concentrated determinedly on his surroundings.

*Well, they’ve definitely gone up in the world,* he allowed, admittedly impressed with the décor surrounding him.

Although somewhat plain, the hallway managed to be welcoming as well as suggesting seriousness, all without being stark. His eyes were drawn to the right hand side of the room, where the length of the wall was covered in large notice boards, brightly coloured flyers vying for space and giving a feeling of semi-organised chaos. Spike raised an eyebrow, wondering for a second at the boards as they looked somewhat out of place in the plush entrance hall. Then he recalled the information he had received from Walker, Green and Company and remembered that this building was meant to house some kind of school.

Spike watched with an almost total detachment as he neared the stairs, noting in the back of his mind that he had no idea where he was going, but knowing full well that if he stopped now he would have to talk to her and he didn’t know whether he was ready to do that just yet. The look on her face before she ran flashed through his mind once more before he could banish it and he knew that he wasn’t ready to face that kind of rejection from her – not again.

He registered the fact that she’d stopped walking before she even said anything, giving him time to steel himself for her comments.

“Spike?” she asked, and the simplicity of her question stopped him dead in his tracks. He stayed facing the stairs, his only acknowledgement that she’d actually spoken the fact that he’d stopped moving. He closed his eyes slowly, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his duster, yet he remained silent and unresponsive.

Buffy took a step towards him gently, the concern that was evident on her face totally missed by the peroxide vampire as he maintained his stoic stance.

“Spike?” she asked once more, her tone hushed yet resounding round the almost deserted hallway. “What… what happened?” she asked hesitantly.

Spike slowly turned to look at her, his face set and emotionless as he fought internally to keep his emotions under control, deciding that the best way to go was to retreat into a professional persona, to avoid the possibility of conflict entirely if possible. He shrugged slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Good question, pet. Was kinda hoping your lot could help me out with that one.”

“Oh,” she said, looking away to one side, trying to hide her disappointment. “That’s why you’re here? To ask for help with… With, whatever this is?”

“Why else would I come?” Spike asked her, trying to keep his tone neutral and businesslike; yet try as he might, he couldn’t help but let a hint of a question enter his tone as he hoped that maybe she would provide him with his answer.

He watched the play of emotions cross her face, before she looked up at him, slightly sadly and attempted a smile. “True, I guess,” she said, before turning away quickly.

Unable to maintain eye contact with the woman before him, Spike dropped his gaze towards the floor, but was brought up short as he noticed for the first time the little girl with the curly brown hair standing at Buffy’s feet – the same little girl who had refused him entrance to the mansion when he’d first arrived. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes inquisitive.

Despite himself, Spike felt his features soften as he smiled at the little girl, his head tilted to one side as he examined her. Her soft, dark ringlets ran riot over her head as two clips struggled in vain to tame the locks and prevent them from falling into her face. He looked her over, noting the fact that her knees were well scraped beneath her pretty pink frock and although her hands were currently held clasped tightly behind her back, Spike would have given money on the fact that her fingernails were chewed and dirty.

“Well, hello there,” he said with a smile.

Emma smiled shyly, glancing towards him through Buffy’s legs as she obviously wondered what to do. After a moment’s consideration however, she took a step forward, biting her bottom lip between her teeth, displaying her nervousness. “Hello,” she said, twisting gently from side to side, her hands staying clasped behind her back.

Spike bent down, squatting near the floor, his duster trailing against the thick red carpet as he brought himself down to her eye level. “So, sweet bit – what’s your name?”

“Emma,” she replied, smiling slightly, her initial nervousness quickly dissipating as she took another step forward, her curiosity very obviously peaked by the figure before her.

“I’m Spike,” he said, holding his hand out for her to shake.

Emma giggled, her hand remaining clasped behind her back. “Spike! That’s a really silly name!”

Spike leaned forward conspiratorially, closing the gap between them a little further. “You want to know a secret?” he asked in a stage whisper.

Emma walked forward another couple of steps, eager to hear what he had to say. She nodded enthusiastically.

“My name’s not really Spike,” he said in a tone which suggested he was imparting a deep, dark secret. “It’s William.”

“William?” Emma asked with surprise.

“Yep.”

Emma smiled. “I like William. It’s a pretty name.”

“You can call me William if you want, sweets,” Spike told her with a smile.

“Can I?” Emma asked in awe.

“Sure. But no one else is allowed to call me William – so it would just have to be your special name for me, okay?” Spike asked, his eyes sparkling.

Emma broke into a huge grin, clearly highly impressed with Spike’s suggestion.

They both looked up as they heard Buffy start to laugh, a look of bemusement and slight disbelief written across her face. “I wouldn’t encourage her to do that,” she suggested, laughingly.

Spike looked at the little girl before frowning up at the Slayer standing above them. “Why not?” he asked. He tried to contain his rising irritation at the blonde as she continued to laugh at him.

“Because she’s Xander’s, well, ‘ward’ I guess would be the closest you’d get and you’d only be giving him ammunition.”

“Ward?” Spike asked questioningly. Buffy nodded, her eyes sparkling with humour. Spike looked back to Emma, who smiled once more.

“Xander’s going to be my daddy,” she confirmed proudly.

“That whelp? A father?” Spike chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, that’s priceless – now I’ve really heard everything.” He stood up and smoothed the dark denim against his thighs. “How’d that one happen?” he asked Buffy.

“She’s a Slayer – he found her. She seems to have adopted him,” Buffy explained in her usual concise way.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Buffy looked down at the little girl for a moment. “She’s a bit of a strange case – she isn’t really one for people. So far the only ones she’s taken to have been Xander, me and, well, now there’s you I guess.”

“What can I say, pet? Always been good with the ladies,” he drawled, trying for sultry and sexy.

Buffy laughed softly and broke into a genuine smile in reply. Spike looked down at her and found himself mirroring her smile, unable to control his reaction to seeing her actually looking happy. They stood there for a moment, neither saying a word, simply looking at each other.

Spike suddenly realised that he didn’t know what to say to her and began to find the silence uncomfortable. His gaze flickered from Buffy to examining the high ceiling of the entrance hall, apparently fascinated with the elaborate coving.

“So,” Buffy asked, breaking the silence. “How did you find us so quickly?”

“Already knew where you were,” Spike said absently as he mentally traced the patterns of the wall paper. “Nice place you got here,” he said, looking round. He stopped short as he caught sight of Buffy’s face. “What?” he asked. All traces of the smile had gone from her face, leaving her once again looking emotionless, her complexion drained of all colour.

“How long have you known?” she asked slowly.

“A week, tops. Not long…” he said warily.

Buffy swallowed and blinked rapidly before turning away, her back to him as she breathed deeply and rapidly. “I. I didn’t know…” she whispered so quietly that he only just caught what she said.

“Didn’t know what, pet?” he asked cautiously, taking a small step toward her. He was suddenly scared, the sudden change in her demeanour alarming him when only moment before they’d seemed to be on the verge of actually managing to have a civilised conversation - when only moments ago he’d dared to hope that she didn’t loathe him as much as he’d feared when he’d exited the taxi at the bottom of the mansion driveway. He stopped, only inches away from her, eyes never leaving her back as he waited for her breathing to slow as she got herself under control.

Suddenly, she whirled round to face him once more, eyes blazing, fury etched in the lines on her face. “I didn’t know where you were,” she spat at him. “I thought you were dead! And the moment I knew otherwise, I was on that plane!”

“And the moment you found out what I was you were back on that bloody plane, Buffy!” Spike returned with equal force, his defences automatically rising in the face of her sudden onslaught.

Buffy recoiled as if she’d been slapped, however Spike didn’t seem to notice as he carried on with his tirade. “Yeah, you came as soon as you heard – and you were all over me when you thought I was human! But the moment you realised that truth?” He laughed bitterly. “Do you bloody blame me for not coming here sooner? I was turned whilst I was waiting for the taxi to the airport – do you realise that? [Add something here like Spike asking her if she even thought to ask him how it happened] I was on my way to you, couldn’t wait to come find you. But things changed a bit then.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sneered at her. “Guessed you wouldn’t want to know. And, hey – surprise sur-bloody-prise – I guessed right. Now, luv, this’s been nice an’ all, but any chance I could get to see someone who could actually help me? Red; the Watcher – someone like that? Cos, well, no offence or anything, but research isn’t exactly your forte.” Spike stopped, finally reaching the end of his rant and he properly focused on her once again, the look on her face almost making him sick.

Buffy stood in front of him, unmoving and silent, her face, if it was possible, seemed to have grown even paler during his outburst as she visibly blinked back the tears she was obviously determined not to shed.

Spike took half a step towards her, part of him longing to take her into his arms, to stroke her hair and hold her close, to whisper to her that it was all okay, and that he didn’t mean any of it. But his stubborn streak stopped him from moving any closer, still royally pissed off at her comments and refusing to capitulate. Frozen by indecision, he stood there as Buffy turned to look at Emma, who had simply stood there, wide-eyed as the two adults shouted at each other.

“Em, can you run and get Giles? Tell him it’s really important that he meet me in the library as quickly as possible,” she asked in an authoritarian tone.

“Okay, Buffy,” Emma said, looking uncertainly between the two grown-ups before running off up the stairs.

Once the little girl had disappeared, Buffy turned back to Spike, her face emotionless and calm, one hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow, her face stony and hard. “Well, if that’s the way you feel, we should get going,” she said as she turned on her heel and headed off across the carpeted expanse without checking to see if the vampire was following.

Spike cringed internally, burned to his very depths as he looked at her, hating to see her like this, loathing himself for being the cause. But the look was oh so familiar to him now. He remembered the few times in his existence when she’d let herself go, when she’d let him in, when he’d been bestowed the gift of the sight of the real Buffy - as opposed to the Slayer who was firmly in residence now. He shook his head and walked off after her.

Buffy opened the dark mahogany door to the library and stepped into the room, holding the door open for Spike to follow. Her head was spinning as she wondered what had just happened – how things had yet again managed to go so horribly wrong just as she thought she had been on the verge of finally getting it right.

He was here; he was actually here. Without her having to go haring back across the country he had simply appeared on her doorstep, cool and calm as always. But she knew that he wasn’t here for her – she was certain of that. He’d said as much in the hallway, after all, had admitted to her that there was no other reason for him to be here.

After that, it had seemed, for a while anyway, that she’d been wrong, that maybe he still wanted her, even if that wasn’t his main reason for being here. But his final statement had destroyed her hopes of that.

*He knew where I was* she thought unhappily, her heart pained as she contemplated that fact. *He knew where I was and he didn’t come.* That simple truth ripped through her heart like a stake. Her mind had dwelt upon that fact for the time it took for her to walk from the hallway to the library, Spike trailing some way behind her, silent and sullen. But what added that extra painful twist was the reason he’d stayed away.

She couldn’t imagine what it had been like for him – to be on his way, wanting to be near her, only to be turned back into the very thing she was chosen to kill. He’d not come for her then as he was afraid of the reaction he would receive from her.

Buffy’s heart sank yet further as she relived her reaction and realised that she’d fulfilled his worst fears. Suddenly, her anger at his reaction seemed childish and selfish and instead her guilt threatened to consume her.

Across the room, Wesley looked up, seeing Buffy standing by the door, appearing somewhat dejected. He frowned, wondering what had changed her mood so much in such a short time, then brushed it off as one of those things.

“Buffy,” he said, attracting the blonde girl’s attention. “Willow has been filling me in on what happened and I think we may have come up with…” he trailed off as Buffy’s eyes widened and she began to frantically shake her head, gesturing wildly to Wesley to stop talking. She cast a glance out of the room, and then stood aside to let Spike enter the room.

Buffy looked around, wondering what the reaction of the library’ occupants would be at Spike’s entrance.

She didn’t have long to wait as Dawn squealed, leapt out of her chair and flung herself across the room to bury herself in the vampire’s arms.

Buffy looked away, all too conscious of the difference between her own initial reaction to Spike-as-vampire and that of her sister.

*At least, that is assuming that Willow has told her and Wesley by now,* Buffy mused as she stood silently at the door, watching her sister take the blonde vampire by the hand and lead him to the sofa to sit next to her, whilst all the time yammering away at him non-stop.

Buffy looked up to find Willow staring at her, concern evident on her face. Buffy shrugged at her friend and shook her head slightly before walking into the room proper and taking a seat on the sofa opposite Dawn and Spike.

She sat silently, her head bowed as if she suddenly found her manicure totally absorbing, certain that she’d really screwed up this time. It took all her willpower simply to sit there and not run out of the library and lock herself in her room.

“So, what are you doing here?” Dawn finished with the question as Giles walked into the room.

Spike looked up, taking in the questioning faces of those in the library whilst avoiding looking at Buffy. “I was hoping you’d be able to help me with something, actually.”

“And what would that be?” Giles asked, his voice carefully neutral as he took in the sight before him, wondering why Buffy was sitting so far from the man that she’d been so vehement about only hours before.

“Well,” Spike started, wondering how to phrase what he was going to say. He shrugged. “It’s the strangest thing, but I got thrown out into the sunlight this morning.”

“Into the sunlight?” Wesley asked curiously, leaning forward.

“Yeah – bright, hot, shadowless, California sunlight.”

“But…” Giles started.

“That was basically my reaction too,” Spike agreed. “So, here I am and I was hoping you’d be able to shed some light on why.” He cast a quick glance in Buffy’s direction, but she was still intent on her hands. “But don’t worry,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “Once I know what’s going on, I’ll be on my way, never bother you again.”

“What?” Dawn asked with a screech. “You mean that you’re only here until you find what you’re looking for and then you’re leaving? But, but – what about Buffy? Surely…”

“Dawn, shut up,” Buffy said quietly, but firmly.

“But, Buffy…” Dawn protested.

“If Spike doesn’t want to stay, then we can’t make him,” Buffy said, finally looking up from her lap, her face a picture of control.

“But what about…”

“Dawn,” Buffy said, a hint of warning entering her voice.

“Does he know?” Dawn asked stubbornly, facing down her sister, refusing to drop the subject.

“We haven’t had a chance to - talk,” Buffy said carefully, glaring at her sister in the hope that she’d drop the subject. “And nothing’s certain anyway.”

“Willow’s told us what happened, it all fits - we think we know what went on…” Dawn continued, ignoring the looks her sister was giving her.

“Can we talk about this later, please Dawn.”

“What, when he’s not here? He has a right to know!” Dawn exclaimed angrily, and the remark made Buffy look at Spike for the first time since entering the room. He was clearly bewildered by the sudden argument that had sprung up, seemingly from nowhere, between the two Summers sisters.

“Okay, right. Just stop. Can someone please tell me what in Hell’s name is going on here? What do I ‘have a right to know’ exactly?” Spike asked, springing to his feet, away from Dawn’s side, looking from person to person in the hope that his question would be answered.

“Buffy?” Dawn asked, arching an eyebrow as she stared at her sister, clearing indicating that Buffy should answer his question.

“We don’t know what’s going on,” Buffy finally said, glowering at her sister furiously.

“Yes we do,” Dawn said stubbornly.

“Well I bloody don’t!” Buffy said, her temper and emotions suddenly snapping as the tears finally started to flow down her cheeks. “You all might have figured it out, but you haven’t exactly let me in on the whole thing. I don’t know what’s going on here, not really. Not like you all seem to.”

Giles moved quickly across the room to take Buffy into his arms, turning them to shield her from the rest of the room as she sobbed into his shoulder, her usual restraint unable to stand up against the pressure of the emotional onslaught of the day.

Spike looked at Willow, hoping that she would provide the answers, certain that there was more going on here than his sudden arrival. Willow shrugged, clearly unhappy at telling him anything right now.

Giles looked back over his shoulder as Buffy calmed down. “This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation. I don’t know what in the world has gone on here and I don’t know what you think you know, but Buffy has clearly had a hell of a day and this will stop now.” He sat the now calm Slayer on a chair away from the group before turning to look at Spike. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to see you here, but I know that Buffy and Dawn are pleased to see you – whatever their initial reactions may have been.” He smiled slightly. “And, of course we’ll help you, though I am a little unclear why you being able to walk in the sunlight is such a shock. Surely, that’s something you’ve become used to recently?”

“Ah, Giles,” Willow said, suddenly realising that Buffy must have omitted to inform Giles of some of the details of her trip. “Spike’s…”

“Vampire again, Rupes,” Spike finished with a shrug.

“Oh, right,” Giles replied, uncertain of how to react.

“Which means that he’s now lost his soul,” Wesley interjected with emphasis.

Giles’ eyes widened as he realised the implications of what Wesley had just said. He looked wildly from his Slayer to her former lover and back again.

“Exactly,” Wesley agreed, reading the look on Giles’ face.

“Exactly what?” Spike asked in frustration, more convinced now than ever that there was something going on here that he wasn’t being told about. “What has this got to do with my soul? And what’s it got to do with Buffy? What aren’t you people telling me?”

“He has a right to know,” Dawn reiterated, standing up and placing herself by Spike’s side, her arms crossed in front of her and a determined look on her face.

“Yes, we know he has a right to know Dawn, but this wasn’t exactly the right time or place,” Wesley said irritably, not liking having his hand forced.

“Never mind the bloody right time and place. Cat’s half way out the bag now – may as well tell me everything.”

“Buffy?” Wesley asked carefully.

The blonde girl looked up, her eyes were red from her earlier outburst but otherwise there was no sign that she’d ever been crying. She sniffed slightly and took a breath. “He’s right,” she said quietly. “You’re going to have to tell him now.” She looked away to stare out of the window, effectively disconnecting herself from the conversation.

Wesley turned to Spike and nodded to himself. “I think you really ought to sit down,” he said, carefully.

“I’m good standing right here, mate,” Spike said, stubbornly refusing to move.

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it, then fine.” He took a breath and turned to Dawn. “Do you want to tell him – you must be used to this by now,” he said with a slight smile.

Dawn looked up at Spike and registered the confusion and concern on his face that was all but hidden by the usual mask of sarcastic irritation he donned in times such as these. She knew that most people would totally miss the signs of his deeper emotions – when he was trying to hide them he mostly succeeded – but she knew him better than that by now and to her they were as clear as day. She also knew that the depths of his worry must be running so deep right now that he felt the need to conceal his feelings in a room full of people most of whom he had known for years.

“There is a prophecy,” she started. “About Buffy and, well…” Dawn trailed off, realising that this was going to be harder than the other times she’d had to explain. She looked across the room to where her sister was staring forcefully out of the window, determinedly ignoring the rest of the room, almost as if, should she stare hard enough, she could magically warp herself from their company and disappear. Turning away, Dawn looked back to the vampire by her side and saw the hidden emotions start to become more obvious at the mention of her sister.

Dawn walked across the room and picked up the book which contained the translation of the prophecy. “Maybe it’s best if I read it to you first,” she said, uncertainly, before she began.

“In the days following the end wars the lineage of those who defend and protect will be threatened with extinction. From this peril will rise the Guardian, the one who will defend for eternity.

“She shall become from the loins of the last One, she who loves the dark Champion – the one who has won and lost that which was taken from him.

“The two shall unite as one, together for eternity, joined by the Flame who holds the power of dark and light and they shall never again be parted.

“From this bonding shall become the Guardian and she shall possess the strengths of both and the frailties of neither,” Dawn recited, managing to maintain eye-contact with him throughout most of her reading, knowing, as she did now, the verse off by heart.

Spike frowned as she finished. “Pretty poetry, Nibblet, but you care to put it into plain English here?”

“It’s a prophecy about Buffy – the last One – the last Slayer, at least, the last one to be a Slayer on her own. And, well, about the fact that she’s…” Dawn trailed off again and looked helplessly at Wesley and Giles, hoping that they could find words where words failed her right now.

“The prophecy foretells that Buffy will give birth to a, well, to a being who will be more powerful than a Slayer – mankind’s eternal protector as it were,” Giles provided.

“Give birth?” Spike asked a little stupidly. “To a child?”

“Well, that is the normal order of things, yes,” Giles said, confirming what Spike was obviously in doubt about.

Spike fell silent for a moment, looking over to where Buffy remained standing, silently. He looked back at Giles. “What’s this got to do with me then?” he asked, the confusion evident in his tone.

“Yes, well, that’s the rest of the prophecy.” Giles took a deep breath before continuing. “You appear to be prophesied to be the father.”

Spike’s jaw dropped and his eyes bugged as he took in what he’d just been told. Then he shook his head in disbelief and frowned. “Rupert, mate – there must be some mistake. I’m a vampire, remember. Makes fatherhood a little difficult.”

“That’s what we were thinking too, you see. We couldn’t work it out. Then Buffy told us about the other night and it suddenly all made sense,” Willow interrupted, a little excitedly.

“Well, care to enlighten me then?” Spike said as he noticed out of the corner of his eye that that comment had finally provoked a reaction from Buffy, albeit merely a slight turn of her head.

“We worked out almost straight away the bit about Buffy. The bit about you was harder,” Dawn admitted, taking control of the explanation once again. She led Spike back towards the sofa and gently sat him down, noting to herself that the news had removed all his stubbornness. “The prophecy referred to a vampire with a soul – a dark Champion. At first we assumed it had to be Angel – and don’t look at me like that. And no interrupting either!” Dawn admonished quickly as she saw the look forming on Spike’s face at the mention of the other vampire’s name. “We didn’t have many options to go with – you were dead, remember. Or, at least, we thought you were.

“Anyway, we worked out that it couldn’t be Angel, because the prophecy referred to a vampire who had won his soul.” Dawn paused as Spike barked out a laugh. She couldn’t resist glaring at him slightly before she continued. “But that made no sense until An… until we found out that you were alive. Hi, by the way,” she said happily as she revelled once again in the fact he was actually alive.

“But it still didn’t really make sense. Then we found out that you were a vampire again - “won and lost,” like the prophecy says – you lost your soul when you were turned again. But there was still a bit missing – like you said, you’re a vampire and so not really huge with the making babies thing.” She paused. “Until last night. Something weird happened here and we’d been wondering about it since. We couldn’t find a reason for it – at least, not until Buffy got home. Will?” she said, passing the explanation along to the witch.

“Buffy told me,” Willow paused to look towards her best friend, wanting some kind of indication that she should continue with her explanation. Her face fell as she was ignored by her friend and she paused before deciding to continue. “She, she, mentioned what happened between you,” Willow explained somewhat awkwardly. “And I did some calculations. You see, something happened here yesterday – and it looks like it happened at the same time as you, and, and, Buffy, well, you know,” Willow stumbled, a little embarrassed.

“I know, Red,” Spike said kindly.

“Well, I was teaching Dawn some magic,” Willow explained and she held back a smile as Buffy whipped round, her face a picture of horror, the news finally managing to illicit a response from the blonde.

“You taught my sister magic?” she asked, appalled.

“It was nothing much – just some minor levitation,” Willow answered, sounding a little sheepish. “Anyway, it didn’t work – she couldn’t get the hang of it. So I decided to show her how it’s done. But,” Willow looked helplessly at Giles and Wesley, knowing she couldn’t accurately relate this portion of the tale.

“Willow seemed to go into a trance and she recited a spell, in Latin. One I have never come across before,” Giles explained. “We have the text of it here.” He indicated a sheet of paper lying on the table. “We have been unable to find any reference to such a spell in any of the texts we have here; however, it does seem to be a unification spell – it seems to have the very specific purpose. That is, to join two people irrevocably.”

“Irrevocably? You mean, forever?” Spike asked, carefully.

“Exactly. The effects of such a unification seem to be that each of them takes of the strengths of the other and, possibly as a result – we’re not totally clear on the exact workings of this particular spell at the present time – their individual weaknesses disappear.”

Spike considered what he had just been told. “Which would make sense of the reason I was able to withstand my little sunlit jaunt,” he mused.

“Precisely,” Wesley said. “And,” he added carefully. “It should also allow you to conceive a child.”

For the first time since he had been informed of the news, Spike seemed to give it serious consideration. Silent, he stood there, unmoving, for a moment before turning his head slightly to look at the Slayer standing across the room. She looked up to meet his eyes, the uncertainty clearly visible as she awaited his reaction. He swallowed unnecessarily before looking at each other person in the room in turn.

“If you don’t mind, I think Buffy and I could do with some time alone to talk, don’t you?” he asked politely, but in a tone that made it clear that he expected them to leave with no complaints. He waited in silence as they all filed out of the room and the door was closed behind them.

Alone at last, he turned to the blonde, who remained standing nervously beside the window.

“Did you know about this?” he asked her quietly.

“Not all of it, no,” she replied, her voice barely audible. “I mean, I knew of the prophecy, but the rest of it – no, I had no idea. It wasn’t until this morning when I realised, when you, when I…” she trailed off, looking firmly at her feet.

Spike crossed the room in a few strides and placed himself in front of her. Raising his hand, he gently placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to look her in the eyes. “When you realised I’d turned?” he asked. She nodded in response, eliciting a sigh from the bleached vampire standing before her. “And you realised the implications of that, which is the reason you freaked and ran?” he asked, not needing her confirmation to know that he was right.

“I didn’t know what to think, how to react. I’d just spent days telling everyone that I could stop this prophecy coming true, that I could control it, and then this and I felt so stupid, as though something, somewhere out there had manipulated me and I couldn’t think with you there and it was so confusing and I just…”

“Ran,” he finished.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, placing her head against his chest.

Almost automatically, his arms enfolded her into his embrace and they stood, silently for a moment, before he frowned and held her away from him, so that he could look at her clearly.

“You wanted to prevent the prophecy?” he asked, sounding a little confused.

“I was trying to, yes.”

“Why?”

“After Sunnydale was destroyed, after Willow did that spell, now that we have more Slayers, I’d finally started to regain some sort of control over my life, that wasn’t bound up with duty and destiny. Then I find out about this and suddenly… It was like being plunged back into it all again,” Buffy tried to explain.

“You don’t want this?” Spike asked, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“No, yes, no – I don’t know,” she said in a rush, shaking her head helplessly in confusion. She stopped and looked at him. “You’re taking this all very calmly.”

Spike smiled in amusement. “It’s all a big cover-up really – I’m confused as hell, but I’m putting off the moment when I have to deal with my confusion by making you face yours.”

“That’s so not fair!” Buffy complained, poking him in the chest lightly.

“Hey, whoever said life was fair? So, you were trying to avoid the whole prophecy thing?” he prompted, deflecting the conversation back onto its previous track as he put an arm round her shoulder and led her to the green, leather, wing-backed chair by the window.

“Yes, and then I realised that I had to at least try to think about it and I realised that it wasn’t just about me and that I should, at least, well, talk it through with the guy we thought – at the time – was destined to be the father.”

“Angel,” Spike growled.

“Exactly.” She paused. “You two are definitely going to have to work out your problems one of these days. Yeah – Angel, so we got him here and, well, we didn’t get as far as one-on-one conversation ‘cause the fact you were still alive came out and, well, you know the rest,” she finished in a rush.

“And how do you feel about the prophecy now?” Spike asked carefully.

“Now?” she replied, sounding a little puzzled.

“Now that you know it’s me, not him.”

“Oh, no – I’m not getting into one of those testosterone-fuelled ex-boyfriend ‘who did you prefer’ things. Nuh uh. No way,” she proclaimed hotly, shaking her head.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Buffy.” He paused and shrugged. “Well, maybe I did, a bit, but what I really meant was whether you still have a major problem with it all.”

Buffy fell silent for a moment in contemplation. “I’m still a bit confused, and I guess you probably are too, and I suppose it’ll take a bit of getting used to. But if you’re really going to make me admit it, I feel better knowing that it’s you.”

“Good. Because telling you this has just got a whole lot easier,” Spike said as Buffy looked up in confusion. “My little trip out into the sun? It was Angel who pushed me.”

“Angel?” Buffy said, perplexed. Spike merely nodded. “But why?”

“Buggered if I know – kept rambling on about how I’d stolen his destiny and I was a thorn in his side and how he’d had enough,” Spike tried to explain. “It happened just after you’d left and I was sheltering from the day in some random crypt. To be honest, I was so surprised to see him there that it all seemed to happen a little fast. We fought, he threw me through a door into the sunlight, then I guess he figured he’d dusted me, cos I didn’t see hide nor hair of him after that.”

“Angel?” Buffy repeated.

“Angel.”

Angel walked through the foyer of Wolfram and Hart, his shoulders slightly hunched as he strode across the marble flooring towards his office. He didn’t even glance at the people walking past, ignoring the subdued greetings and well wishers on his staff as they went about their daily business, unaware of where he had been and what he had been doing. For them, this day was a day like any other, full of their own individual crises which involved him as little as the events of his day involved them. He knew that occasionally he may find their business on his desk, but that was rare and he mostly knew them only as cogs in the wheels of the enormous law firm that seemed to operate whether he was present or not.

He looked up finally as a cheery voice greeted him. Fred’s slim form stood at the top of the staircase, one hand lightly resting on the banister as she waved at him. Sure that she had his attention, she quickly made her way down the stairs to his side, smiling happily up at him.

“Angel – when did you get back?” she asked.

“Er, just now, I guess,” Angel mumbled in reply.

“And…?” she asked, waiting for more.

“And, what?”

“How was Cleveland?” she asked in exasperation, clearly thinking her initial enquiry should have been apparent.

“Oh, fine,” Angel said, his voice remaining dull and uninterested.

Almost as if she didn’t notice Angel’s non-committal response, Fred continued. “So, where’s Wesley?” she asked, peering behind the tall vampire as if she expected to find Wesley standing there.

“Oh, he stayed behind for a bit. Something about research, I didn’t really…” he trailed off distractedly, hoping that Fred would take the hint and leave him be for a while.

“He didn’t come back?” Fred asked, the smile finally dropping from her face. “But…” she paused. “Research? Yeah, that sounds like him. Probably got side tracked by some musty old book. Typical – but I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Fred, look, I’m really tired and I probably have a lot of work to catch up on so I’m just gonna,” he gestured towards his office and Fred looked up at him, frowning. She seemed to come out of a daze as she realised what he was saying and then nodded.

“Yeah, of course. And me to – work, I mean. I was just going to…. the lab. And work. And stuff.” She wandered off, muttering to herself for a moment, Angel stood there and watched her go, wondering what had gotten into the woman. He frowned, shook his head and turned on his heel to walk into his office, looking forward to the peace and quiet it would bring.

He almost got through his office door and could feel his dark leather chair calling to him, his anticipation rising at the thought of sinking into its depths, of shutting out the world, of opening the blinds to look out at the sunlit world and pretend once again that he was something that he would now never be. It was almost there when he was once again waylaid.

“Boss!” Harmony’s voice cut through his contemplation as she rushed round from behind her desk to stop him at the light wooden door that led to what he thought of as his sanctum.

“Not now, Harmony,” Angel growled, barely glancing at the female vampire as he walked into his office.

“But boss…” Harmony persisted, following Angel to the office door before pausing uncertainly, hesitant to encroach any further on his space – she’d seen this kind of mood before.

“I said, not now, Harmony!” Angel repeated, his growing ire clear and obvious in his tone.

“But – the hospital called,” Harmony said eventually, deciding that her infuriated boss would be ultimately more annoyed by her withholding the information.

Angel stopped, all thoughts of peace and solitude disappearing from his thoughts as he digested what Harmony had just said. Slowly he turned to face her.

“When?” he asked emotionlessly.

Harmony frowned, her head cocked to one side in thought as she twirled the nail file she had been holding between her fingers. “Er, well, this morning sometime? The doctor – he wanted to talk to you, He said…”

“Call them – tell them I’m on my way,” Angel said briskly, interrupting her as she spoke before he walked from the room towards the exit.

*~*~

Angel stood alone and silent as the elevator made its smooth and steady ascent from the basement car park. As the lift slowed to a stop, the doors slid silently open revealing the now familiar ward which lay beyond.

He stepped out of the elevator and into the almost eerie hush that rested over the ward like a thick blanket. He could hear muffled sounds emanating from some of the rooms which lay off the main ward corridor, but there was nobody actually in sight.

He scanned the area in front of him absently. He knew the tableau which lay before him so well by now he felt as if he could navigate it blindfolded. But still he looked about, noticing, as he always did, the way the linoleum shone dully in the artificial lighting, the way the currently deserted nurses’ station rose like a bastion in the centre of the floor – an island in the sea that was the polished and spotless flooring.

He couldn’t find the words to describe how much he loathed this place. Everything about it seemed false, unnatural, from the harsh strip-lighting that ran in perfectly straight rows down the corridor, to the deceptively cheerful pictures painted by some sub-standard local artist which hung on the wall, purporting to diminish the inescapable clinical feel of the hospital ward, but failing and simply highlighting this instead.

His footsteps hardly made a sound as he made his way along the corridor to his usual and oft visited destination. He stepped inside the room and closed the door softly behind him, pausing momentarily, his back against the door and his hand still resting on the handle.

His eyes focused automatically on the window, noting that the blinds remained drawn as they always were – as he had instructed. The lack of natural light meant that the room was as unnaturally bright as the windowless corridor had been, lit by a harsh strip light on the ceiling.

Reaching across, Angel flipped the wall switch, plunging the room into a false twilight. Finally taking a step forward, he walked across the room and reached across the supine figure laid on the bed to switch on the smaller bedside light.

Suddenly illuminated in the softer glow, she looked like the ethereal being she had once been, her gown seemingly glowing white, her hair glossy and thick as it lay spread out across the pillow. It was longer now than it had been and he smiled slightly, realising that the nurses had obviously carefully washed and thoroughly brushed to mane recently for it to shine so.

He sat on the chair at the side of the bed and carefully took her limp hand in his. He sat still in the room, the only sounds being the soft, regular drip of the intravenous infusion and the intermittent beep of the cardiac monitor.

Angel sat, staring at her face, wondering, hoping – as he had done so many times over the previous months – that maybe today would be the day that those closed lids would flutter open, the day that she would turn her gaze upon him once more and smile at him. But he knew he had to be realistic as he forced himself to acknowledge the fact that she had been in a coma for over a year now and the chances of her ever waking up were steadily decreasing each day.

Closing his eyes, shutting out the painful sight of the body before him, he let his head drop, resting his chin against his chest as he continued to hold onto her hand as if it were a lifeline. He sat there, quiet and contemplative, for a moment before he once again looked up.

“Why did you have to go away? Nothing’s been the same; everything’s changed since you’ve been gone. Nothing makes sense anymore. I feel like I’m lost without you, like I don’t know what I’m doing. Every choice I make, every decision – they all seem to go wrong, go bad. I need you, Cordy, come back to me,” he whispered softly, almost fervently, hoping, somehow, that she would hear him, this time.

The world seemed to stop for Angel as he sat there, clinging onto Cordelia’s small, impassive hand with both of his larger ones as he gazed at her. The universe seemed to shrink until they were the only two in it and his awareness of anything outside of them fell away.

It all came crashing back with the intrusion of a single cough from the doorway. Angel released her hand suddenly, as if he had been caught in an intimate moment and he turned towards the noise.

The doctor in his white coat took a step into the room as Angel rose to meet him. Smiling slightly awkwardly, the shorter, slightly balding man held out his hand to Angel. “I’m glad you could come – this really isn’t a matter I wanted to deal with over the phone,” the doctor said, taking the direct approach.

“Of course, doctor. What did you want to see me about?”

“The doctor’s eyes flickered towards the unmoving form on the bed before settling once more on the man in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he began. “There is still no sign of improvement…”

“No,” Angel said, firmly, before the physician could get any further.

“It’s been too long, Angel,” the shorter man said, hoping to be reasonable.

“We’ve discussed this before – the answer was ‘no’ then and it’s ‘no’ now.”

“It’s over a year…” the doctor persisted.

“And other coma patients have been under longer,” Angel argued.

“True,” the doctor allowed, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his pristine white coat and rocking back onto his heels. “But this is a, well, ‘special’ case – it’s a miracle she survived at all.”

“I know,” Angel said quietly, glancing towards the bed.

“She’s never going to wake up, Angel – you have to accept that,” the doctor said, kindly, laying a hand gently on the larger man’s arm.

“And what would you do?” Angel asked, not really wanting to hear the answer he knew was coming.

“Withdraw treatment – stop the artificial feeding, the drips. Let her just slip away, go with a bit of dignity.”

Angel didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t bear to look at the doctor after what he’d just suggested and he didn’t want to look at Cordelia after he’d allowed the suggestion to even be aired. Finally, his gaze landed on the window and the cream blinds which barred the sunlight from entering. They seemed to glow in testament to the bright light that he had ordered banned from the room.

Silently, he stared at the blinds as the doctor waited nervously for his response. And, as he stared, he realised what he had done and knew what it was he had to do now. Turning back to the physician, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them and looking the other man in the eyes. “Can I have some time – I need to think.”

“Of course,” the doctor said, seemingly relieved that his suggestion had not been dismissed out of hand. He backed away and disappeared out of the door.

Angel watched the retreating figure of the doctor as he disappeared out of the door, before he turned back to the bed and its occupant. He slowly walked back to the bed and resumed his seat beside it.

“It’s been over a year now,” he began quietly. “Over a year since we brought you here, since I ordered those blinds shut, since I shut you away in here. I’ve made so many bad decisions, I don’t even know now if that was the right thing to do anymore.”

Angel paused and looked at her sleeping face. “You’re not coming back, are you? But I guess I always knew that – they told me you would die and then when you didn’t…” he stopped and looked down at his hands, resting on the cover of the bed, scant inches from her upturned palm. “I don’t know if I can stay in LA. You’re here, there – everywhere I look… Buffy called. That’s where I went, why I was gone,” Angel admitted, his voice sounding almost guilty.

“Apparently there’s a prophecy, about a souled vampire. It could be me. They’re not sure, but I’ve been thinking about it. I mean, the prophecy said the vampire had to have won his soul,” Angel continued, not really sure whether he was talking to her or merely at her, but it felt good to have someone to talk to whatever the case. “But, surely I’ve done enough over the past few years that I could have been said to finally have won my soul – to at last deserve it – even if I didn’t go traipsing off to the middle of nowhere to take part in some inane trials.” Angel paused, his face twisted into a sneer. Calming himself, he smiled slightly.

“Anyway, it has to be me now. I killed him, Cordy – I actually did it. The guy’s been a pain in my ass for over a century, but I – I mean, I know we’ve fought before, but I would have never…” Angel paused as he momentarily lost himself in contemplation of what he had done, before his face hardened and his tone turned to one of righteous anger. “But he took what was mine – the Shanshu Prophecy. Then this prophecy – it was him or me and she went to him, sought him out. She didn’t even consider that it could be me. I…”

Angel suddenly sank towards the cover, as if suddenly deflated, all the energy gone from him. “He was a vampire again, you know,” he said quietly, sounding extremely tired all of a sudden. “He didn’t appreciate it, being human. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went out begging to be turned. He always was a selfish idiot. So, I didn’t really kill him – I just rid the world of another soulless killer – and, after all, that’s what I do.” Angel paused again, before looking up once more. “That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. But who am I kidding – I know that I would have done it anyway. I sought him out when I thought he was human. I would have…” Angel paused once again and laughed – the sound coming out as a harsh, but soft bark. “So much for my vaunted soul!”

Angel stopped, his brow wrinkling slightly in thought. “Won and lost,” he muttered softly to himself. “Maybe the wording just isn’t as clear cut as they thought,” Angel said, his tone getting slightly louder and definitely more excited. “Won and lost – maybe it is me! I’m the only souled vampire around here – the only one in the world now as far as we know. Buffy and I were in love – they can’t deny that, after all, that’s why they summoned me in the first place. My good deeds – that’s the won part - and Spike, maybe that one act, the intention to kill in cold blood, maybe that was enough that I could be said to have lost the right to my soul. It might be me!” Angel finished excitedly, now staring off into space, the girl at his side ostensibly forgotten as he followed his train of thought through to its seemingly logical conclusion, his hands now gripping the bedsheets tightly.

Finally reaching the end of his monologue, Angel looked back down at Cordelia as she continued to lie, unresponsive, in the bed and the almost zealous light which had appeared in his eyes as he talked died as he looked at her.

He sat silently by her side for a few long minutes. “But do I want it to be me?” he finally asked, his voice barely audible, even in the silence of the hospital room. “I don’t know, I… But I can’t stay here, seeing the same places, the same… And you’re not coming back, are you? And Buffy and I… We were good together; we could make it work. And, if it is me then, well, I have to do it – don’t you see? They need me. And I – I can’t stay here.”

Angel gently took hold of her hand before letting it drop once more to the cover of the bed. Standing, he stooped to kiss her gently on the lips. He looked sadly at her unmoving form before he turned and left the room.

The doctor stood in the main ward, leaning against the nurses’ station. He stood up properly as he saw Angel leave the room and he walked to him.

“Do it,” Angel said, pre-empting the smaller man’s question. “And open the blinds – let her see the sunlight.”

Not wanting to know anymore and fearful that if he stayed, he’d change his mind, Angel continued walking, leaving the doctor standing in the corridor, alone, wondering what had wrought such a change of heart in the man who had been previously so steadfastly adamant in the past.

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