Apologies

Angel rolled over in his bed for the fourth time in as many minutes. Sleep simply wasn’t coming for the weary vampire. The glowing red display of his digital clock read 4:35, but already he could smell the sun in its ascent. With a grunt of annoyance, he gave into his cravings. Throwing back the covers, he stood up and pulled on a pair of dark pants before stalking out of his room and down the hall to the kitchen. Yanking open the door of the fridge, Angel grabbed a plastic blood bag and tore it open, drinking it down noisily.

"Hungry?"

The familiar voice came from behind him and he whirled around, fangs still embedded in the blood pack. He blinked once, twice, and then swallowed convulsively. He suddenly remembered the plastic bag stuffed in his mouth and quickly hid it from view behind his back. Nervously, he licked his lips before trying to speak.

"Buffy," he said softly, as though she would disappear if he spoke too forcefully.

"Yeah, it’s me. I, uh, I used the key you sent me to let myself in."

"Well, that’s- that’s why I gave it to you."

"Yeah."

"So-," he started, still gazing at her steadily. "What’s up?"

"I-I need your help, Angel." The Slayer stubbed the toe of her shoe into the floor, looking for all the world like an embarassed little girl called to task for some transgression. She ducked her head and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "Angel...I messed up. Pretty big this time."

Something in her voice put him on edge, but he couldn’t place it. It seemed final somehow, like letting her explain the problem would be like plunging off a cliff. If they landed safely, then it would be alright. If they didn’t...

"Buffy, what is it? You can tell me-," he broke off as she suddenly raised her head, a desperate light shining in her hazel eyes. She looked unhinged, almost unstable.

"I’m- I’m so sorry." She started to wring her hands.

"Whatever it is, it’s okay. We’ll get through it," he reassured her.

"No, Angel, I won’t ‘get through it.’ I’m...I’m pregnant."

The last word echoed through Angel’s mind like some kind of tolling bell. He dropped his head down to look at the floor, the countertop, the chairs, anywhere but at her. The girl who had just succeeded in ripping his heart to shreds with one utterance.

"Oh, Buffy," he whispered, unsure of what to do or say.

"Angel, I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back..."

"What do you need me to do?" He looked up at her with shimmering eyes. Their gaze locked and he found himself, once again, lost. She’d always done that, somehow. Always made him feel like they were the only two people talking in the entire universe. It was a feeling he’d missed.

"I just need someplace to stay for the ...time...being..." she trailed off, staring wide-eyed at the other entrance to the kitchen, which led in from the bedrooms. Angel followed her gaze and bit off the weary groan that he wanted terribly to indulge in at that moment. For there stood Kate, looking calm and cool as ever in a silk robe and Japanese sandals.

"Hello, darling. I heard you get up- who’s our visitor?"

"Kate, meet Buffy. The Vampire Slayer," he said tiredly. This was really too much. "Buffy, meet Kate. My business partner."

"Among other things," she supplied, grinning at him. She walked over to Buffy and extended her hand, smiling at the younger woman. Buffy automatically took it, her gazing shifting rapidly between Angel and this new woman. This beautiful, older woman who obviously lived with him. Oh god.

"I’m sorry, Angel," Buffy began, backing slowly away from the two other occupants of the kitchen. "I- I need to go. I shouldn’t have come here."

"No, don’t leave. Please. You need someone to help you- you can’t do this all alone," he practically begged, the look on her face like a punch to his stomach. She merely shook her head tightly and turned around, grabbing up her bag and heading for the door. He raced for it and arrived ahead of her, effectively sealing off her only escape route.

"Don’t do this," she hissed, the pain evident on her face. "You’ve already got...company." Involuntarily, she glanced toward the kitchen, only to see Kate standing in the entryway to the kitchen, a coffee mug cradled in her hands and a smirk on her lips. "Just forget about this, okay? I never talked to you."

"Too late. You did talk to me, Buffy. I’m not letting you go."

"Right. That’s what you said last time, remember?" The words were like a slap in the face and he paused, gazing down at the tiny blonde in front of him. "Just let me leave, Angel. I won’t bother you again. You already seem to have your hands full."

"Oh, and this baby is just a miracle of God? The last time I checked, Buffy, being pregnant meant that there’s a father. You had your ‘hands full’, too." He placed a sarcastic stress on her own phrase, mocking her.

"Get out of my way." Her tone was sharp and her body stance was rigid. He knew she was fully prepared to fight him in order to leave the apartment. The desperation was evident in her face. Reluctantly, he acquiesced and watched as she yanked open the heavy metal door, walked through and slammed it shut behind her.

Numbly, he walked over to the couch and sat down heavily, his forehead coming to rest on the heels of his hands. Kate sat down beside him, mug in hand.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Fine, just thought I’d try. I’m going back to bed- wanna come, too?"

"No."

"Right. Well, then. Try to get some sleep, okay? You’re a real grouch."

As he watched her head back to her bedroom, Angel wondered again why he had ever chosen to get involved with the woman.

Oh god oh god oh god... A litany of curses started to run through her mind, chasing out coherent thought or action. Buffy collapsed on the nearest bench and drew her legs up into her chest, resting her forehead on her knees. Tears began to run down her cheeks and nose, dropping off the point of her chin to land in a rapidly growing wet patch on the front of her shirt.

This whole thing was impossible. It had to be a horrible nightmare.

Please, god, let it be a nightmare. The look on Kate’s face... the bitch. Her thoughts inevitably turned to Angel and his reaction to her. He had been supportive, as ever, but she hated doing this to him. Hated rubbing his nose in the fact that she’d obviously had a serious relationship with a person other than himself. It’s not like she could tell Giles, though. His disappointment in her would be more than she could bear. At least with Angel she could rely on someone to help her pick up the pieces without judgment. Only, that had been called into question now, too. But what kind of position was he in to judge her? Hadn’t that been his girlfriend with him? In his home? In his bed? Oh, god, she couldn’t think about it. Then again, is this what he had felt when she’d told him she was pregnant?

Wearily, Buffy stood up and stretched before picking up her overnight bag and walking down the street towards the nearest neon motel sign. She’d been awake all night, and it was catching up with her. At least in sleep she could forget this feeling of being so lost and alone. Maybe.

*****

[several hours later]

Angel was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Otherwise...

He could see Buffy standing at the end of the bed, a short white silk nightgown barely grazing her upper thighs. Her hair was swept up in one of those little do’s he loved to wreck and her face, oh her face... she was smiling. Beautifully, and with unending amounts of love. At him. She looked so happy and so at peace, as if all their problems, all their constraints had simply been done away with.

"Angel, I love you." The smile changed into an impish grin. "I love what you do to me, and how you make me feel. I love your body...the way you don’t need heat to make me hot all over, they way you touch me in all the right places," she paused to climb up onto the bed, "...the way you feel inside me."

He gulped and gripped the bedsheets in both fists, as if physically hanging on to his self-control.

"B-Buffy?"

"M-hmm?" she replied, working on the buttons of his pants with one hand. She looked up at him and her eyes twinkled. "Relax, honey. Nothing’s gonna happen that you don’t want to happen. Course, there’s not a lot that you don’t want." She giggled and the sound floated gently over his ears, calming him and soothing his nerves. "Don’t worry, Angel. I promise you’re going to like this."

He was about to answer her when a groan erupted from his throat. He looked down his chest to see her lips closed softly around the head of his cock, lightly sucking on it.

"Oh...god...Buf-" the last syllable was cut off, this time by a sharp intake of breath as she slid her mouth all the way down to the base of his shaft, deep-throating him with ease. She eased off a bit to swallow, then slid back down, caressing the underside of his member with her tongue.

"Oh, Jesus," he moaned, inordinately pleased that he’d been able to say anything complete. Her sweet torment was getting worse, as she drew back up his shaft and started to use her tongue to tease and press on that little spot right under his head, right where it made him feel like exploding. Her head went down and back up to tease the nerves and down and back up, making Angel feel like an insane kind of lollipop. A lollipop that was about to come in the Slayer’s mouth.

"Buffy- I’m..I’m about to..."

"I know. Go ahead," she mumbled, busily swallowing her own saliva and his pre-cum.

"But...don’t you want to move, or..."

"I like your taste," she reassured him and looked up, her eyes full of love. Her mouth moved downwards again, eliciting another groan. He could feel his sac begin to tighten as she deep-throated him once again. He snarled, unable to keep his game face from surfacing. So tight and hot and wet...just as the last thought exited his mind, he came, shooting into her mouth in spurts. He could feel her moving her mouth a little to swallow, and then her tongue, caressing every part of him, cleaning him. Another groan almost came out as he realized he was about to get hard again. Hooking his hands firmly under her arms, he pulled her up and draped her body across his chest, the top of her head just low enough down to tuck under his chin.

"I love you," he murmured, smoothing her hair down with one hand while wrapping the other arm firmly around her back. "And I’m sorry for those things I said. I’m sorry for Kate."

"I know," she answered, snuggling into his chest as deeply as she could. "Things on my end didn’t work out too well. I’m sorry about coming to you with something that would obviously hurt you so much."

"I only wish you’d come sooner." Crimson tears leaked from his eyes and ran back into his hair. "I love you, Buffy. So much."

And abruptly, he woke up. In his apartment bedroom. Alone.

*****

A few miles away, in a seedy motel with a flickering neon sign, the Slayer woke up with a gasp, gripping the bedsheets. Tears had left stiff salty tracks down her face and her nose was running. The dream had felt so real... Could it have been...? No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Firmly telling herself that she was crazy for thinking such things, Buffy turned back over in bed and tried to go back to sleep. God knew she needed it, judging from her latest dream of Angel...and herself...together. Stop it. Sleep. Pulling the pillow over head, she tried to fall back into oblivion.

Unfortunately for her, oblivion didn’t come for another two hours.

"Wake up, darling."

"Mmmm?"

"You’re taking me to go see Faust this evening, remember?" Kate poked a little harder, trying to rouse Angel fully. "We have to go pretty soon, and you haven’t even gotten up yet."

"I’ll take you...don worr.." he slurred, falling back into unconciousness.

"Angel!" The name cracked like a shotgun and he sat up immediately, eyes golden and game face evident. Seeing only his irate bedfellow, though, the facial ridges disappeared and he started to slowly piece together the past few seconds’ pseudo-conversation.

"Right. Opera. Just let me take a shower, okay?" He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to recall what had made him sleep in so long. Something to do with Buffy... Abruptly he remembered the previous night’s dream and gasped.

"What is it? Everything alright?" Kate asked, turning around from the mirror over her bureau.

"Yeah...yeah, everything’s just fine." His words belied the fact that everything was not fine, though, and she could hear it quite clearly.

"What’s up? ...Oh, no. You’re not still worried about Buffy, are you? Angel- she’s a big girl, now. She can take care of herself. She doesn’t need your protection, or anything else for that matter." She turned back to the mirror, carefully applying eyeliner. "She just thought she was gonna waltz back in here and set up shop-"

"Drop it, Kate," he grated, trying to interrupt her.

"-with you! Like you would take her back and go through all that shit again!"

"Kate," he repeated, warningly.

"It’s not like you could sleep with her, anyway. What kind of satisfaction could there be?"

"KATE!" he roared, "SHUT UP!"

The tall blonde jumped and clutched at the edge of the bureau. The room had gone eerily silent.

"I’m going to go take a shower now, and we’re both going to forget about this entire conversation. And you will never again bring Buffy up for discussion. Ever. Are we understood?" he snarled, staring at her back like he could pin her to the bureau with his gaze. For all the motion she made, it could have been working.

"Yes," she whispered.

Without response, he walked naked over to the bathroom, entered, and closed the door firmly behind him.

*****

Buffy was on her fifth stake when loud knocking sounded from the door to her motel room. Carefully hiding the box of new Mr. Pointy’s under the bed, she stuck the fifth in her back pocket and cautiously approached the door.

"Who is it?" she called, peering through the peephole. Rolling her eyes as soon as she recognized him, she opened the door and grinned. "Nevermind. Hi, Doyle."

"Hey, Buffy. Can I come in? Thanks," he said, waltzing into her room without waiting for any preliminaries.

"Nice to see you, too. I see your manners haven’t gotten any better."

"You were expecting them too?"

They grinned at each other in comraderie. Reluctantly, Doyle spoke again.

"So, Buffy, what’s this I hear about you bein’ knocked up?"

The box of stakes once more in her hand clattered to the floor. "Christ! Angel called you already? I thought he’d have a little more tact than that-"

"Angel didn’t tell me, darlin’. I had other sources."

"Huh?"

"You think I was able to find your motel room- in *LA*- by randomly guessing?"

"Fine. Be all cryptic. See if I care." A small curve had settled at the corners of her mouth, though.

"Buffy, you need to go back to him." The curve left.

"I don’t need to go anywhere," she tossed back, studiously picking lint off her shirt. "Especially to him. He already has company. Three’s a crowd, remember?"

"No, you don’t understand, Buff. He needs you just as much as you need him right now." The half demon shoved his hand in his pocket, fishing out an old ornate locket, intricate designs in silver decorating the outside. He popped it open quickly and held the inside up for her inspection.

"Oh my God." Her face reflected her confusion. "But...that’s- that’s Kate!"

"Yup, these old daguerreotypes are just beautiful, aren’t they?"

"Okay, so Kate’s a freak. We now know this officially. What am I supposed to do about it?" Buffy looked up at Doyle questioningly. "She’s his girlfriend, Doyle. It stands to reason he already knows about her little...irregularities."

"But he doesn’t."

"And how would you know?"

"She told me."

*****

Angel leaned his head back into the needle-spray of the water and let the soap run out of his hair. If only the same could be done to his problems. Living with one woman, while loving another. Buffy’s reappearance in his life had awoken him once more to the fact that he loved her, just as he already loved her unborn child, who’s ever it was. Kate, though, was his duty. He’d been with her for more than three years- long enough to have some sort of commitment become solid between them. He couldn’t comfortably shrug off a relationship with a woman whom he cared for, especially when she obviously was very much invested in it. He caught himself on the word. Invested. Isn’t that what he’d told Buffy years ago? That she was too invested in their relationship? God, he wished he could take it all back.

"Angel?" a timid voice questioned. He cringed at the memory of how he’d snapped minutes ago.

"Yeah, Kate?"

"I’m sorry."

Behind the opaque shower curtain, Angel hung his head in guilt. Dammit. How the hell was he going to break up-

"Angel?"

"Yeah, Kate?" Warily, this time.

"Are you mad at me?" He rolled his eyes, but answered patiently.

"I was, but now I’m not." He shut off the water. "Hand me a towel?"

There was no reply.

*****

"She told you? As in ‘Hi! I’m immortal!’?"

"Uh, no." He paused, squirming. "It was more of a ‘Hi! I’m a demon!’."

"A demon?!" she screeched. "Angel’s dating a demon?! Oh, this is priceless."

"Hey! Remember that somebody else is a demon here too, you know."

"Uh, remember that somebody else has a curse?"

"Hey. Blondie. What am I?"

"What?" She paused. "Oh."

*****

Angel stalked out of the bathroom, a towel slung loosely around his hips. He was surprised to see his tux already laid out on the bed, shoes and socks on the floor underneath. Kate was nowhere to be found. Dressing took a matter of minutes, then a comb-through of the hair and a spritz of cologne. As he put the oddly-shaped bottle back on his dresser, he stared at it, remembering the first time this particular fragrance had been given to him. It had been a present from Buffy. Abruptly, he shut off his train of thought and headed towards the door of the bedroom, turning the light out as he left.

The kitchen and living room were quiet as he entered, lacking the telltale sound of Kate’s breathing.

"Kate?"

No answer.

"Kate?" he tried again, walking towards the front door. He only felt her presence a scant second before she burst through the apartment’s entrance, gasping and winded from having run up two flights of stairs.

"Are you alright?" he queried, more from habit than concern. She had always been incapable of simply walking up the stairs.

"Yes...<cough>...I am." Slowly, her breathing regulated itself and she pushed a few stray blonde hairs out of her eyes. "Uh, Angel...I, uh, I have something for you." She said it warily, looking down at her hands and back up at his face several times. His first instinct was to tense up; the muscles in his body shifted imperceptibly, adjusting to the idea of perhaps defending himself. He caught himself. That was crazy- Kate was no more likely to attack him than the kitten she had brought him last time she ‘had something for him.’ Typical woman, picking up stray cats... Forcefully, he dragged himself back to what she was doing.

With agonizing slowness, she opened the small box that had been cradled in her hands. Surprised that he hadn’t noticed it before, he leaned forward to see what she had for him. She stopped suddenly and looked up at his curious face.

"Close your eyes."

Warily, he acquiesced, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that warned him of what had happened before when he obeyed this particular command. He felt one of his hands being drawn up from the side of his body, and a cool band of metal slid itself onto his fourth finger. His ring finger. He had a startling premonition of what he was too see when he opened his eyes. Dear god, she couldn’t have. But that was impossible. She wouldn’t have picked that one ring... He opened his eyes.

Settled onto his left hand, winking in the dim light of their foyer, was a silver claddaugh ring.

Angel’s vision swam and he hastily wiped at the bloody tears. Despite his efforts, though, large red drops fell onto the cream carpet beneath their feet.

"Angel?" Kate clutched at his arm and pulled his face up to meet hers. "Is it- do you like it?" she asked, hesitantly, startled by his stricken expression.

At her words, his eyes lightened to a strange tan color- as if a brown haze covered the gold underneath. A grimace twisted his lips.

"Let me go." The words emerged on a snarl and she released his arm immediately, her eyes widening at the ridges that rose slightly on his forehead and cheeks.

"Angel- what’s wrong? What did I do?"

"This gift- this ring... I can’t accept this from you. From anybody." He turned his back to her and began striding towards the kitchen, looking for some blood to calm his nerves. He grabbed at his hand suddenly, trying to yank the damn thing off his finger. The ring wouldn’t move for a second, but then it started to slip and he pulled it off.

Her eyes narrowed to slits and her breath hissed in the back of her throat.

"That’s right, Angel. You wouldn’t accept it from anybody. Except for Buffy, that is." Her tone was spiteful, vindictive, squeezing the bands of steel that already constricted his heart. He turned around, game face evident, and growled low in his chest. She kept going, ignoring him. "Your precious, knocked-up Buffy. The woman I can’t ever live up to, and the woman who will kill you someday. She only came to you because she couldn’t go to the real father. She- she probably got drunk and forgot protection. And now, since she can’t even remember who got her pregnant in the first place, she goes to the one man she knows will never turn her down. The man, wait no, the VAMPIRE she knows still loves her!" By the time she’d finished the tirade, tears were streaming down her cheeks and her face was red from screaming.

"I swear to God, Kate, if you say another word about her-"

"You’ll what, Angel? Kill me? Not gonna happen." Her expression was supremely smug, inciting yet more rage to build deep within his chest. He felt like he might explode from the pressure of keeping it all in.

"Damn you, Kate. Can’t you ever fucking fight me without bringing her up?" he grated, running his fingers wildly through his hair. It stuck up in all directions and she had a fleeting compulsion to smooth it down. A compulsion she quickly stamped out. She was angry at the sonofabitch for loving that- that killer. That Slayer. Just had to remember that she was angry at him...

"Her name is Buffy, Angel." She looked at him with the beginnings of pity deep in her eyes. "You can’t say her name to my face, can you? Your guilt- your worthless, pitiful guilt- is what keeps her name from your lips, isn’t it." She didn’t mean it as a question and there was no room for doubt in her voice.

"I love you, Angel. Why isn’t that enough? Why can’t it ever be enough?" Her tear-stained cheeks were flushed from crying and her breath caught in the back of her throat.

"Because..." he paused, debating with himself over what to say. "I’m a weak man, Kate; I’ve never been any different. I just... I just need..."

"Buffy," she spat, hurling the name at him like an epithet.

"No," he answered in carefully. "I need time."

"To do what exactly, Angel? Think it over? Try again. I’m forcing you to choose between us, even though I know who’ll win. I lost this competition a long, long time ago." Her voice seemed tired, suddenly, and old. "Just leave. Please, Angel, go. At least I know where you’re running, this time." Her words stabbed his heart, just as she had intended them to. Without looking at her, he reversed directions and started to walk toward the door. The claddaugh ring was still clenched tightly in his hand, close to drawing blood. As he strode by her, he paused, looking down into her face. Slowly, he picked up her hand and dropped the ring into it, deliberately closing her fingers around the cold metal.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. She watched his back as he strode purposefully toward the door. It seemed as though everything slowed to a halt for one second; a second that she could catch and keep with her forever. He opened the door and walked through, shutting it quietly behind him.

"Oh god..." Her whimper fell on no man’s ears, though, and the only sound left to hear was an old grandfather clock, quietly ticking off the seconds.

Find Buffy...find Buffy...find Buffy...

The words ran through Angel’s head like a mantra. He barely noticed the squealing of tires and brakes as he ran into the middle of the road, never saw the vampire attacking the college coed on a darkened corner, was unable to focus on anything other than the smell of her. His love. The woman he wanted to claim as his own for all eternity. He picked up the pace and started sprinting as her scent grew stronger. The only sound that registered at all was the blood that sang through his veins.

Ahead, he saw a few motels, scattered down the road at uneven intervals. The nearest one drew him, luring him in with her scent. He could feel her so completely that her taste lay on the back of his tongue. She was talking to Doyle... why was the demon here? He’d been in Nicaragua when Angel’d last asked. Again, his body, more than his mind, focused on Buffy.

He could see her the grey-green of her eyes, and the navy sweatshirt-jacket she was wearing. He crossed the parking lot at a dead run, leaping up the outside flights of stairs without taking a step. On the open-air hallway he slowed to a jog, and then a walk. He looked at her door, hands shaking with an indescribable need. He felt like kicking the door in, like sauntering into the room as some long-lost hero, home for his lady-love. The thought made him cringe in shame. He sighed and his body tightened further; through the door her scent was even more enticing. As he raised his hand to knock, the door was wrenched open. Inside, peering up with enormous grey-green eyes that held the world in their depths, was Buffy.

The silence stretched between them, taut and tangible as an electric wire. Neither knew how to break it, and somehow, neither wanted to. It was nice to be able to just look.

However, the look rapidly deteriorated in something else. A raw sort of hunger crossed both their faces at the same time. A hunger to fill the aching emptiness inside with someone else’s body. This time, at last, they stood in front of the person that hunger was meant for. They reached out in tandem, their actions mirroring each other through the doorway. As Angel reached forward, though, his hand was pushed back. He wasn’t invited. The sensation, however small, was enough to bring him back to reality.

"Buffy," he grated, his voice rough. "Can I come in?"

She backed up slowly, eyeing him through the doorway as if for the first time. Her head shook slightly, as if to rid herself of the trance they’d both been under.

"Don’t... don’t come in, Angel. We shouldn’t-" The sharp, grating noise of someone clearing their throat cut her off mid-sentence.

"What she means is, she’s afraid you’ll screw her. Or she’ll screw back. Whatever," Doyle stated baldly, growing tired of their stuttering. They both turned to glare at him.

"What? It wasn’t as if I was ruining a cozy moment here, folks."

Angel sighed and ran a hand over his face as if weary. Buffy merely continued to glare.

"Doyle," she began sweetly, smiling dangerously, "Please don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, okay?" Her eyes promised retribution for his tactless remarks.

"Fine, babe. See ya. Just don’t forget to deliver the message, ‘kay?"

"Whatever. And don’t call me babe."

"Sure," he mumbled, ambling toward the door. He edged cautiously around the vampire and strode off down the hall.

Which left Buffy and Angel staring at each other over what seemed like miles of carpet.

"Come in," she whispered, unknowingly clenching her hands into fists. The tension vibrated along the lines of her body.

"Thanks," he answered, just as softly. He stepped inside the motel room and glanced around, more out of habit than anything else. His eyes took in the shabby wallpaper and curtains, the stained bedspread and the moth-eaten carpet. Buffy immediately grew defensive.

"It’s all I had money for, okay?" Her tone was belligerent and aggressive, more so than she’d wanted it to be. She looked down at her sneakers for a second after saying it, embarrassed by the outburst.

"Buffy, I’ve stayed in much worse places while having the money to do much better. I’m not going to judge you. I wouldn’t. Not ever." He meant more than the motel room, and they both knew it.

"How can you say that?" she asked, unwanted tears welling in her eyes.

"How can you say that you wouldn’t judge me for sleeping with another man?

For having another man’s child?"

The words were like a slap in the face and his head sank until he took his own turn at staring at the carpet.

"I had sex with someone else, Angel. And I thought about you while I did it. I made believe that he was you- that his hands were your hands, that his lips were your lips, that his... that he could make me feel the same way you did." Tears slipped over the edge and ran down her face. "It didn’t work."

"You know I slept with Kate," he said gruffly, head still lowered. "I made her cry out and scream in pleasure, I made her sob with ecstasy while she shook in my arms, I made her come with my name on her lips, all in the hope that one day, she would sound just like you." He looked up and his face was streaked with tears as well. "She never did."

"I love you, Angel," she choked, wrapping her arms around herself. "I love you so much it kills me inside. But I will not stand by and watch you with another woman. If I were a better person, maybe I’d be able. But I’m not. I never will be."

"I left her," he said, very low. "I left her, Buffy. She tried to replace you in my heart; she tried so many ways to get me to love her, and I never could. I was never able to give her what she craved most."

The Slayer was dumbstruck. Her mind had stuck on the word ‘left’. "You left her?" she asked, praying her voice wouldn’t wobble. He nodded, ashamed. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. As far as he could tell, the situation was beyond repair, and it was just a matter of time before she kicked him out of her room and probably out of her life altogether.

"You left her," she whispered again, as much to convince herself as anything else. Unsure of what to say, Angel just stood there, praying. She turned her back and walked slowly over to the bed. She collapsed gently and simply sat there, gazing at him. Once she was able to find her voice again, she spoke.

"So what about us?"

"Us?" he questioned, sure he’d misunderstood.

"Don’t tell me you ran all the way over here to tell me that you’d don’t want to see me. Again." The silence stretched out, long and uncomfortable between them. "You wouldn’t..." she whispered, hands clutching the bedspread as if it were her lifeline.

"Buffy, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have. You should have something better than what I can offer... I just- I just wanted..." he trailed off helplessly, searching for the words. The seconds ticked by, every one inflicting more pain on her uncertain heart. When he did speak, though, his words were the salve she’d been so desperately needing.

"I love you," he stated, running a hand through his hair. "That will never change, Buffy. And I can’t walk away from you again. I’m not that strong, or that foolish."

A sob escaped her throat and she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, blushing. Carefully controlling her voice, she answered, "You know I love you. I’m just afraid that you’ll run. That you’ll leave me again and- and I need you right now, Angel. You’re the only one that I could tell..."

"I know," he soothed, his voice low and caressing. He walked toward her slowly, waiting for her to signal him to back off. She never did. In seconds he stood in front of her, close enough to throw her arms around his waist and clutch him to her. He sank to his knees, putting their faces almost level to each other. He reached out tentatively with one hand, his fingertips brushing lightly down the side of her face. Tears shimmered brightly in her eyes, turning them from grey-green to emerald and back.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I won’t ever leave you. I swear."

Buffy shuddered with pleasure at feel of his lips on her skin. Her senses narrowed with startling clarity. All she could feel were his hands cupping her face and his gloriously soft lips caressing her forehead. Before either of them could really think, she’d lifted her head and their lips met.

They froze. A second stretched by, running on endlessly while they waited for the rush of emotion to die down. It didn’t. Angel’s arms began to creep around her sides, fingers brushing lovingly over the fabric, imagining the soft flesh underneath. The kiss deepened into something more serious. More dangerous. The passion flared up sharply between them, searing them both with its intensity. Angel broke off suddenly and wrenched himself backwards over the carpet.

"Oh god, Buffy, I’m sorry," he murmured, gazing at her from a safe distance away.

"No- don’t say that." She ducked her head and her voice was almost bashful. "That was... nice."

He gave a dry half-laugh, a slight grin creeping sidewise across his face.

It was gone as quickly as it had come, but his face seemed lighter somehow. "Yes, it was that." He remained seated on the floor and pulled his knees up, lying his arms out on top of them. His fixed gaze, which would have once caused her to blush, now made her squirm with discomfort. Such was the price of their separation.

"You really haven’t changed," he said, wonderment in his voice. His eyes traveled with loving familiarity over the planes of her face, over her shoulders and down her arms, over her chest and down her legs, ending at her adorably small feet. He remembered the exact shape of her toes, and how, if she removed her shoes, her toenails would be painted a pretty pink color. His eyes traveled back up to her face, but lingered over her belly as if trying to discern any difference in shape or size. There wasn’t any, yet. She saw him looking, but said nothing of it. There really wasn’t anything to say.

"You never will change," she countered, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly in a rueful grin.

They both sat in silence for a moment, just savoring each other’s company. Once again, Buffy was reminded of how lonely her time without him had felt.

He broke the silence first. "So... what was it Doyle wanted you to tell me?"

A strange expression crossed her face. Satisfaction, fear, amusement and embarassment all flashed by. He hadn’t thought the question that complicated. "Buffy?"

"Uh, he... he wanted me to tell you something about Kate." She stared fixedly at her hands. Never a good sign. Internally, Angel cringed. "She’s a demon."

Oh. "Buffy," he said gently, "I knew that."

The Slayer’s head snapped up quickly and her expression changed. "You- You knew?" She sounded vaguely outraged, as if her own choice of boyfriends had been any better.

"Lemme guess. She got drunk, started to cry, and ended up draping herself all over Doyle, telling him her life story." If his voice lacked true sympathy, it also lacked sarcasm or mockery. It was simply a bald statement of facts.

"Yeah- pretty much like that. But she told Doyle about it ‘cause she thought you’d leave her if you knew that she wasn’t human."

"Kate doesn’t have the best common sense," came the rueful reply.

"I guess not."

Another silence, awkward this time, filled the space between them. Again, surprisingly, it was Angel who spoke first.

"Uh, Buffy? This question isn’t any of my business... and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to- it’s totally up to you, I just wondered... about the-" he paused to take an unnecessary breath, "- baby."

"It’s Xander’s."

Angel’s stricken expression would’ve been comical, had they been discussing anything else. As it was, Buffy only felt more guilty.

"Xander’s?" he whispered, as if desperate to find out he’d heard wrong.

"Yeah," she answered, her head down. "We... dated for a while, if that’s what you want to call it."

"You mean, you screwed," he said bluntly.

"Yeah, that too." Her voice was growing softer and much fainter, as if to retreat from Angel’s growing anger. She feel his rage within herself, they were so closely connected.

"I’m sorry, Angel." She lifted her face and he was startled to see twin flames in her gray-green eyes. "But you have to take some of the blame, too. You left me. I could’ve died without your help." Her voice grew softer again. "I- I need you, Angel. I wish it weren’t like this. That I could just let go of whatever it is that we have... but I can’t. And I won’t."

His voice, when he answered, was rough with emotion. "I’m not leaving, Buffy. Don’t ever think that I would forsake you."

"But you did once, Angel. I can’t just forget that. You just left... you said that you didn’t want to spend your life with me."

"I was a fool."

"But how much of that will you feel the next time you want to run, Angel?

How can I ever trust you again?"

"Buffy, nothing I say now will ever completely convince you that I’ll never leave. But there is something I can do." His expression was completely serious, and she waited anxiously for him to continue. "You’ll just have to trust me on this one, but I think... I think Doyle was telling me the truth."

Her expression had turned from avid interest to exasperation. "Angel- what is it? Please don’t pull the cryptic shit-"

He interrupted her with a quick motion that laid a few fingers across her mouth. His eyes were a glowing, rich brown as she gazed into them.

"Buffy, make love to me."

Buffy’s eyes opened wide as saucers and she gasped. "You said..."

"Make love to me," he finished for her, cupping a cheek gently in one hand. "Doyle told me... when Willow reinstated my soul, she cursed me with the same words. But evidently, someone felt that a hundred years in hell made up for my sins. I don’t agree, but I’m grateful."

Buffy pulled away from his hand’s caress and frowned deeply. "I spent my entire four years of college trying to replace you and never succeeded, Angel. Why didn’t say anything? You know I would’ve come to you in a second."

"Would you?" he asked her seriously, his gaze boring into hers. "Would you really have come back to me, after what I put you through?"

A look of regret replaced the frown. "You still don’t believe that I can love you enough for forever."

His head drooped and he let himself slump. A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder, and this time it was her fingers pulling gently at his chin, raising his face to meet her gaze.

"Angel," she whispered, "I’ll love you until I take my last breath. I’ve spent so long without you-" her voice, even in a whisper, broke and she whimpered. Strong arms immediately rose to envelope her.

"Shhh," he crooned, kissing her hair and the top of her ear. "I won’t leave you, Buffy. I’ll never leave you again. Before all the gods that man can create, I swear it." His kisses, interspersed with whispered promises, continued to rain down on her head.

A glowing ember had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach and radiated warmth outward through her limbs. Unconsciously, she snuggled closer into his embrace and turned her head into his neck, nuzzling at the soft skin. Suddenly, what had simply been an act of comfort became much more. Through his shirt, Angel could feel her body heat and heartrate rising. Gently, he pulled his head away and they looked at each other, mirroring expressions on their faces.

"I just..." he started, but was silenced suddenly by a pair of lips that kissed ferociously, full of need. It was a need he knew how to answer and he gave himself over to just feeling, to just breathing in the scent and the taste of the woman he loved. He took her lower lip into his mouth gently, running his tongue over the edge and inside of it before nibbling slightly. As his tongue retreated, hers followed, chasing back into his mouth to explore with familiarity all the tastes and textures she’d missed for so long. By the time Angel broke off the kiss, he could hear her heart beat pounding the blood through her veins. That throbbing artery right under the skin that beckoned so sweetly... He’d once been allowed the right to take her life’s blood, but now was not the time to ask for a second taste.

Gently, he started to nibble and lick at her collar bone and neck, taking in tiny mouthfuls of her skin with every touch. Her taste and smell overwhelmed him for a moment and his face rippled, trying to change. Buffy’s fingers slid lovingly into his hair and pulled back. Gazing down into amber eyes, she smiled, let go of his head, and pulled her shirt off. Angel’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Her bra was barely there; it seemed more like lace scraps than clothing. Slowly, Buffy reached back behind and undid the hooks, sliding it off her arms and onto the floor. Angel’s mouth was dry suddenly and something very like fear flickered at the back of his mind. What if he lost control? What if he drank from her again? She’d never forgive him...

"Angel," she said timidly, stroking a hand down his cheek, "I- I want you to taste me." Her eyes were filled with understanding and he shuddered, realizing how much he wanted her, in every way. He felt a hand close around the back of his neck and he let himself be pulled toward her.

"I love you," she whispered, and guided him down to her breast. His mouth moved over the warm, salty skin quickly, planting kisses and nips along the underside and top before gently taking the nipple between his teeth. He started to suckle as though a child to be fed. Suddenly, everything changed as fangs slid into her the skin just above her aureole. Gasping for breath, she arched her back, pushing her breast into his mouth. It felt shockingly good, this new kind of suckling, sending waves of pure ecstasy crashing through her body. Jesus Christ in heaven, it felt wonderful.

Angel could taste her love in the blood she so freely gave. Her heart beat pounded in her chest, her sanguine skin shimmered in the light, and he could feel her very soul. He knew what she felt and thought, almost before she did. Her taste once again exploded over his tongue and he groaned, ravenous for the sweet nectar only she could produce. Her hands clutched his shoulders with formidable strength and he knew he would have bruises in the shape of her fingers come the next day.

Buffy’s head was thrown back and she started taking shallow breaths. The pleasure was building slowly in her lower stomach and she started to tremble with need. The climax crept up behind her with barely a warning. In an instant, she felt a tremendous wash of ecstasy and she arched back sharply, mouth open. She screamed, feeling that she had to let the energy out somehow or explode. Tears leaked out of her eyes and flowed in streams down her face. Another orgasm hit her, close on the heels of the last one, and she screamed again. This time, it was his name she screamed before sliding into oblivion, her body unable to take the full force of their actions.

*****

She awoke only a few seconds later to feel hands gently working at the buttons of her jeans, slowly pulling them down and off her hips. They continued to slide down her legs until she felt them being drawn off over her feet. Terribly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but her underwear, she opened her mouth to say something. As soon as crossed into her line of vision, though, her jaw snapped shut and she made a small choking noise. Dear god, he was beautiful. He’d taken off his shirt and pants before divesting her of the jeans and as usual, he’d gone commando under his clothes. His body was magnificent, and she stared unabashedly. Her eyes traveled slowly from shoulder to knee, taking in every nuance of muscle and bone.

"You’re beautiful," she breathed and then caught herself, blushing. He grinned in response, and gave her a swift kiss.

"As are you." Rich chocolate eyes fixed themselves on her. "Are you okay with this? Are you sure-"

"Angel, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life."

His smile, breaking over his face like the most beautiful dawn, shone down on her, bathing her in love. She continued to feel its warmth even as he ducked his head and began a slow perusal of her body, making her nipples tighten in response. His mouth moved around her breasts, nuzzling the flushed golden skin with what sounded suspiciously like a purr. He laved her nipples with his tongue, spending adequate time on one before moving to the other, and then back again. By the time he started to draw away from them, she’d begun panting short, sweet little puffs of air that caressed his face every time he paused to look up at her. He spent minutes simply kissing and nuzzling at her flesh, determined to cover every inch of her skin with his lips. The way he worshipped her body caused tears to form in the Slayer’s eyes and run down into her hair. They were tears of joy, cried for a man who had finally come home.

Angel’s tender ministrations stopped for a moment, and Buffy lifted her head. She found him kneeling on the bed over her, gazing down at her with the smallest of smiles playing across his face. His eyes were awash with bloody tears.

Inside my head- you’re... you’re thinking that I’ve finally come home."

"Angel?" //Angel?// The question echoed inside his mind even as he heard it with his ears. He answered her back without speaking or knowing at all what he was doing.

//Yes?//

"Oh my God." And neither one of them knew which had said it.

His head swooped down to nuzzle at the soft flesh of her belly, occasionally swiping at the skin with his tongue. He continued to move lower, along the midline of her body, until he reached the apex of her thighs. Repeatedly, his nose bumped into her clit. The gasps escalated into moans.

//Angellll...// she groaned silently.

"M-hmm?" he answered, raising his head to answer. This new ability was amazing- he’d thought it impossible for his thoughts to reflect in anyone else’s mind. Evidently, that restriction had gone the way of his curse.

"For god’s sake, don’t stop."

He gave a dry chuckle and bent down to draw her legs apart with his large, capable hands. Strongly, he held them on either side of his body, opening her up to the touch of his tongue. The first long, slow lick he made traveled deeply up the length of her folds, down to her very core. She whimpered and clutched at his head, unable to decide whether to make him stop or ask him to keep going. He took the decision away from her. His tongue slid between the folds of her slit, dancing around the taut nubbin at the top and wandering slowly back down towards the source of her wetness. Buffy felt like she was going to kill him. His mouth was working wonders on her nervous system, but she wanted him inside her. Deep and hard, pounding into her flesh with the abandon of a man denied for too long. She forgot her anger quickly, though, as she felt his tongue slip down into her passage, rolling and caressing the tender flesh as though it were some succulent treat. She could feel herself riding the wave of ecstasy that would break over them both, anticipating the feeling of helplessness and being lost in a sea of pleasure...

He stopped.

//ANGEL!// "ANGEL!" she yelled, "I swear to God, if you don’t—" She was cut off as he thrust forward sharply, filling her grasping hole with his member, stretching her and molding her to his body. The pleasure exploded inside her brain and colors danced behind her closed eyelids. She couldn’t feel anything except the pressure of his body on top of hers, inside hers, drawing out and sustaining her orgasm. As she started to come down, she felt his movements begin and slid her legs up to wrap them around his waist. She groaned as he slid more deeply into the welcoming warmth of her body. She clenched his rock-hard member with her inner muscles as if attempting to keep him within her for all time. As if denying him the right to exit her body, the way she still feared he might exit her life. And the moment they started to move together, they found their own rhythm. It pounded in their blood and in each of their hearts, echoing the joy that they both felt. They watched the world fall away and realized that nothing existed except this amount of time they could spend together, in this space meant only for them. He dove deeply into body again and again, near to hitting the mouth of her womb, attempting to make her his and his alone. Spasms began low in

her abdomen and her hands clenched on his upper arms.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, and slammed into her for the last time, throwing them both over the edge of the abyss.

A frantic pounding sounded on the door, waking the two figures tangled in the bedsheets. They looked at each other for a heartbeat, then dove for their clothes.

"Angel!" Doyle’s voice was muffled but still strong enough to be called a yell. "Angel, we need to go!" The pounding paused for a second, and he added like an afterthought, "Bring Buffy."

The sentence was barely out of his mouth when Angel wrenched the door open. Doyle’s eyes traveled the length of his friend, taking in his half-clothed appearance. His gaze shifted to Buffy, who sat on the end of the bed, loosely draped in what looked far too much like Angel’s shirt.

"What have you two been up to?"

Angel’s patience broke first. "Doyle, what does it look like?"

The demon shrugged eloquently and stared up at the larger man. "I don’t know. You tell me."

"Cut the crap," Angel growled, and the sound sent a shiver through Buffy, though not from fear. "What’s going on? Why are you here?"

"Just full of questions today, aren’t ya?"

"Doyle..." His tone was a warning, which the half-demon finally heeded.

"Kate’s been attacked. Animal, possibly lycanthrope, but definitely deadly."

"Where is she?" There was a frantic quality to his voice that Buffy didn’t miss. So he still cared about Demon Girl. So what? That didn’t mean anything; she knew he’d feel the same way if Cordelia was hurt, or Willow. Right? She took a deep breath and pulled her hands up to her face. She could deal with this. He didn’t love Kate. He loved her. If she could just keep on believing that...

"Buffy?" his voice dragged her out of her thoughts. "Are you alright?" Slowly, she lowered her hands and peered up at him, enormous grey-green eyes brimming with tears.

"Yeah," she whispered, and started to drag herself off the bed to find her own clothes, laying scattered on the floor.

Angel was confused. He’d been so sure that they were okay now. They were back together, everything was going to be fine, Kate wasn’t even part of the picture anymore... Kate. Buffy thought he still cared for the half-demon. Didn’t he though? Hadn’t he been ready to rush out, trying to find and protect her?

And finally, Angel realized something so obvious, he wanted to scream. All that time, all those wasted years he had spent with Kate, weren’t based on love. They were based on responsibility. On his godforsaken need to protect the weak from harm, and Lord knew Kate was far from strong. Somehow, she had taken it for more, and so had he. For a while, anyway. He stumbled toward the small figure on the floor, falling down to his knees beside her.

"Buffy," he murmured, pressing his hands over hers. She didn’t listen to him, only took her hands out from under his and calmly returned to picking up her underwear. "I love you. You must understand that- I know you do."

The busy, tiny little hands stopped fluttering and gently came to rest in her lap. She took a deep breath and looked up at the man who’d become so much more than anyone else in her life.

"Angel, I get it. You still have feelings for Kate that... that aren’t resolved yet. These things happen in relationships." She bent her head and tried to push herself up off the floor. His strong hands laid on top of hers prevented anymore movement.

"Damn it, Buffy," he growled, and the tone came out low, causing her lower belly to clench in something that, again, wasn’t fear. "I don’t have feelings for Kate. I never have. And I’ve just realized that all this time, I was trying to protect her because I couldn’t protect you. Since I couldn’t keep you from harm, maybe I could save her."

"So go," she replied dully.

"No! Don’t you see? I don’t want to save her. Not really. I worry about her, yes. I’ll always worry about Kate, because she’s weak. She doesn’t know how to take care of herself. But what I really want to do..." he paused and tilted her chin up to look into his eyes, "What I really want to do is stay right here and make love to you until you know, completely and fully, that I’ll never leave."

Her throat tightened painfully and she could feel a wave of tears threatening. Slowly, she nodded her head and let it fall forward, her body supported awkwardly on hands and knees. Angel stood beside her and helped her up, keeping an arm around her waist as soon as she was upright.

"You two ready?" Doyle asked warily. "We haven’t got all evening."

Buffy straigtened her shoulders slowly, as though pushing all her uncertainties back into the dark spots of her soul. After a moment, the Slayer stood, proudly erect and confident, staring into the half-demon’s face with the old, jaded look gone from her eyes.

"I’m good." She turned and quirked a corner of her mouth at Angel, standing her back as was his habit. "You ready to save the day?"

It induced a chuckle from the vampire and a dry response. "What else am I good for?"

The quirked lips slid into a grin as she opened her mouth to answer.

"-I don’t want to hear it," Doyle interrupted, and quickly walked out the motel room door.

*****

The trio made their way quickly through alleys and back streets, Buffy having to jog to keep up with the two men beside her. Angel’s quick strides seemed to eat up the pavement and she took a moment to admire his grace and the manner in which he walked. He reminded her of a cat- a jaguar- each pace strictly measured, each movement gliding into the next as though his bones and muscles were connected in ways they shouldn’t have been.

"Princess, are you gonna stand there and gawk at him or are ye gonna catch up?" Doyle asked, throwing the question back over his shoulder. She made a face at him and followed, still gazing, enraptured by Angel’s form. Pretty soon, she had to leave off paying attention to Angel and started listening to Doyle. He had taken Kate to a safe house- hospitals probably wouldn’t be able to get her blood type too easily.

Buffy lost count of the subway stops and switches after their fourth, and just concentrated on figuring out what this ‘safehouse’ Doyle talked about was. From what she could tell, it seemed someplace where all manner of preternatural creatures stayed, visited, danced, and drank, for its cover was a club. They had the means to treat Kate’s injuries, if she wasn’t too far gone.

They exited the subway onto an almost deserted street, the lights from bars and club glowing weakly in the pre-dawn light. Doyle looked around for a moment, needing to orient himself with the surroundings, before taking off at a near-jog toward a darkened building that Buffy hadn’t even noticed. Odd, that. Usually she paid better attention to the area around her. She could feel Angel’s presence behind her, like a sheltering wall protecting her back. She wanted to lean into that wall, and just collapse. She wanted to feel his arms encircle her like they used to, years ago. Like they could, now. Resolutely, the turned her mind from further romantic musings and tried to keep up with the half-demon, who was almost running now. At first, Buffy was confused. Why didn’t he slow down? It wasn’t as though he would be burned... by the sun. Angel. Dammit. He must have been feeling the sunrise for over a half-hour now, and hadn’t said a word. In the same step, both vampire and slayer started jogging.

Doyle reached the back door first and started pounding on it viciously.

"Open yer door, Claudius!" Silence for a few moments, and then,

"Doyle, are ye daft? Ye ‘ave th’ Slayer with ye! Why the bleedin’ ‘ell should I open th’ door?" The brogue was thick enough to cut, and Angel suddenly took on a peculiar expression. He turned to Doyle, a look of amazement on his face.

"That’s impossible," he whispered, shaking his head and pulling a hand heavily down his face.

"’Tis possible, my friend," Doyle answered, before being interrupted by the booming voice behind the door.

"Angelus? By god..."

"Yes, Claudius, it’s me. We- ah, we really need to see Kate."

The door finally swung open to reveal a large, broad-shouldered man, with high cheekbones and a disturbing similarity to some old engravings of Vikings that Buffy had seen.

"Angelus! It’s good to see ye, man!" He looked over at Buffy for the

first time, making a great show of looking down on her from his considerable

height. "And so you’re the little princess that’s been giving us so much

trouble? Jesus, Angelus. She’s so little. You’d think-"

"Yeah, yeah, that I’d be taller, or with bigger muscles and all that," Buffy interupted, hands on hips. "Is it possible that we could get around to seeing Kate? And getting Angel out of the soon-to-be-here sun?"

"She’s got a sharp tongue in her head, that one," he remarked calmly to the other two males present. "But I bet she’s great in-"

"Claudius," Angel growled, and the other vampire wisely fell silent. "Shut up and take us to Kate."

Buffy was prepared for the blood. In her line of work, it was a daily occurrence. She just wasn’t ready for what was underneath the blood.

Kate had been laid out on a pallet in one of the smaller ground floor rooms that didn’t have any windows, her body encased in sheets. Dark red blossoms had soaked through the cheap cotton, concentrating over her abdomen. Deep gashes trailed down her left cheek and the old blood had dried to a rusty brown color. A deep scratch that had resulted in a welt fell down the other cheek, resembling a gruesome tear track. Looking at that face, Buffy really didn’t want to know what was under the sheet. She could smell the metallic tang of blood, and looking over at Angel, she recognized that he did, too. The look on his face was tortured and Buffy could almost feel what he was thinking. With a rush, some force she hadn’t even known existed barrelled into her mind, into her consciousness. She visualized it as dark and shape-shifting in form. And it seemed to talk...

// God, forgive me. I should have been there. I should have been able to

protect her- she didn’t deserve this kind of death. Kate, you know you

can’t survive this attack. Doyle knew that when he got us. I guess he

didn’t want to scare Buffy...//

Suddenly, he looked up from the body on the floor and straight into Buffy’s gaze as he realized that he hadn’t been speaking only to himself. A flicker passed across her face; at another time, it would have signalled the onset of tears. Now, it simply told Angel what she held in check. What she would deal with later, when the time was right. He looked at her with gratitude in his gaze and sudden relief. He realized how much he’d missed having her with him as his partner, his equal in all that he undertook. He looked back at Kate, lying still as death on the floor.

// I love you, too.//

Buffy’s voice in his head was so unexpected that he almost yelped. Unlike the great barrelling force that his mind had exerted over hers, the Slayer’s consciousness had merely slipped into his, barely creating a ripple. The look on her face, despite their circumstances, contained a glimmer of her usual cheerfulness, before they both turned back to the task at hand.

"Kate," he whispered, kneeling carefully by her head. One hand reached out to lightly touch the naturally-blond locks. "Kate, wake up." He waited a few moments and was about to speak again, when she took a hitching breath- one that obviously hurt her. Her clear grey eyes opened wide and wet, staring intently up at him. Cognizant of his presence, free of delirium from the beginning, she grinned slightly and coughed.

"Angel," she rasped, and he felt as though her voice was actually hurting him. "Angel, I love you."

Buffy flinched; she knew what was coming next- it was the only kind thing to do for a dying... demon, she supposed.

"I love you too, Kate. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m sorry... for a lot of things."

The dying woman coughed sharply and Buffy realized with horror that it was her version of a chuckle. "I know you don’t love me, Angel. You and the Slayer over there were going at it pretty seriously not too long ago. You both still smell of it."

He had the grace to look ashamed, while Buffy was starting to see red. This woman dared to talk about them like that, when they had never had anything but pain and heartache... Slowly she tamped down her fury, trying to remember that she was dying, that she had been cheated of a full life; something Buffy worried about herself every time she went out to patrol.

"Kate-" he began, fingers tracing gently over the planes of her face.

"Don’t even start, Angel. I should apologize, too; I’m not what you think I am. I- I’m half-demon. Xycthus demon. I know I should..." she coughed a little and blood spattered the hand she held in front of her mouth. "...I should have told you-"

"Shhh. I know, Kate. I have known. For almost as long as we’ve been together." The kind, chocolate brown eyes gazed down at her in tenderness.

"You- you knew? And you didn’t leave. God, you didn’t leave..." she trailed off as tears began to form in her eyes, pooling up and spilling over onto her cheeks.

Buffy winced for the second time that morning. Wasn’t there anything this demon wasn’t going to bring up before she finally died? Once again, the Slayer admonished herself and tried to remember that the woman was dying; that this was her last chance to talk to the man she loved. By rights, she herself shouldn’t have even been there.

Kate looked past Angel and saw Buffy, standing uncertainly by Claudius and Doyle. Shyly, the woman on the floor looked at Angel and then at Buffy. He understood her request immediately.

"Buffy, come over here. Kate wants to tell you something."

Her first instinct was to balk, to refuse, like the child that she wanted to be. Her maturity reinstated itself, though, and she walked over slowly.

"Hi."

"Hello," Kate answered, and coughed again. The blood droplets on her hand were bigger this time. "I- I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time."

"Sorry I can’t say the same."

For a moment, she looked hurt, and Buffy felt like a shit. "I’m sorry-" she started to apologize, but Kate cut her off.

"It’s okay. I deserved it." She paused to study the girl in front of her for a moment. She took in the blonded hair, the rumpled clothes, the thin frame, and then squinted. The girl’s aura was glowing with white. "My God," she whispered.

"What?" Buffy asked, alarmed.

"You- your aura- you’re going to do fine, child. Just fine."

Buffy bristled at the ‘child’, but let it go. And she was ‘going to do just fine’? What the hell? She looked at Angel for an answer, and realized with a shock that she had unknowingly shared all the thoughts and feelings she had just experienced with him.

// She was looking at your aura, Buffy. Evidently yours is good, or something. //

Buffy turned back to the wounded woman. "Kate, I’m not going to tell you that I love you," the woman flinched, "and I’m not going to tell you that you’re going to be okay, because you’re obviously not. In fact, you’re going to die. Now, I am sorry that we had get to know each other through Angel; in different circumstances, we might have been friends. But we’re not. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

Kate paused, staring at the strong woman before her, and felt envy burning white-hot and brilliant, like a magnesium flame. "Buffy," she rasped, "one of the abilities of a Xycthus demon, along with the reading of auras, is the ability to see the future. And, just as my luck would have it, the only future I can see is that of Angel. I thought that I could change his future, that I could change him, if I got there in time. I was wrong. He’ll be in love with you ‘till it kills him."

Tears welled up in the Slayer’s eyes, but she fought for control, since Kate was still talking. Any reason would do.

"Your future together will be... problematic-"

"Oh, big surprise," Buffy muttered.

"But it will be a future together. And of all your children, only one will be difficult. Watch her carefully; she could follow either the path of her mother, or of her father."

Buffy and Angel looked at each other for one long moment, filled with bittersweet joy, before turning back to the wounded figure in front of them.

"Take care of him, Buffy. He’ll need you more than anyone else. He always has."

The grey eyes fell shut and pushed the remaining tears out on her cheeks, making it look as though she were still alive. Angel heard her heart beat for the last time, and surprised, felt his own heart lurch in response. He had loved her, but not in the way that she had craved. The if only’s of their relationship fluttered through his head, causing the old regrets to rise again.

//Don’t. Please don’t. It’s not your fault, Angel.//

He jumped and turned to look at her with haunted eyes. "How can it not be my fault? I drove her away- I left her when she needed me... just like I always do..."

More to Come………