Building A Mystery

By Zorya

Chapter 1:

It was dark. The waning moonlight bounced off the walls of the semi-small room. A soft moan escaped her parted lips as she tossed and turned in her bed, sleeping fitfully.

Pictures took form in her mind. She was running, running, with nowhere to go. Dull brick walls surrounded her, gray and dark blue in the hazy light of her dream. Her breathing was labored as she continued to move. She threw a glance over her shoulder, noting nothing visible. Suddenly she ran into something solid and fell back a few paces. Without a second thought, she crouched down, ready to strike. As she looked up she realized it was Whistler standing before her. He stood silently, merely watching her. With a wary glance behind her she straightened and returned her attention to him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her breath still coming in pants.

"And here I thought I was a frequent focal point in many young girls’ fantasies," he chided her.

She hedged around him, positioning him between her and whatever was apparently chasing her.

"I take it this is a dream then."

"You make it sound like a bad thing," he replied wryly. He shrugged and swept a glance over her. "You can’t run from these demons, Buffy."

She tossed him a scathing look. "Oh? In case you hadn’t noticed I’m a Slayer. I don’t run from demons, I slay them. Hence the whole Slayer thing."

"You know what I’m talking about. These are your demons. They don’t plague the world. You have no one to save from them but yourself. And you can’t do that, can you?"

Her stance was defensive as she continued. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Whistler regarded her in a patient manner. His tone was light as he spoke. "But you do, my dear girl. I wouldn’t normally involve myself in simple matters of the heart."

"And that would mean you’re in my dreams because?"

"I’m here to keep the relative balance between good and evil. You know that."

She crossed her arms over her chest as she awaited his explanation with poorly feigned patience.

He smiled slightly as he watched her countenance. "It doesn’t matter if you’re with him or not. You do realize that, don’t you? Angelus is a force to be reckoned with. And he will turn again. It’s just a matter of time."

She turned her gaze to meet his eyes, her expression melting to that of shock. "B- but...he has no reason to. As long as he doesn’t experience true happiness...well. We’re not together. So I can’t push him over the edge. He can’t revert to his former self."

He nodded sagely. "You’re correct in most of those assumptions. But change he will. And it’s up to you to save him. He needs you. And just as I led him to you, now I’m leading you to him."

"And why should I believe this isn’t last night’s pizza speaking?" Buffy asked, finally fed up with his enigmatic messages.

Remaining unmoved by her words, he continued. "There is a woman. You do not know her yet. Trust her. She can help you."

She scowled up at him. "Well thanks for the enlightenment and insight. Now can you please get out of my dreams?"

"You won’t like her. But she means you no harm."

"Look, I’m pretty sure I have to get up soon. So I’d appreciate it if I could get just a bit of rest before I’m off to save the world again..."

He disregarded her as if she had never spoken. "You know where he is. Go to him as soon as possible. You’ll understand soon."

In a flash of white light, Buffy sat straight up in her bed. Immediately the alarm clock began to sound. To her right, Willow began to stir. As she looked at the time, she groaned.

She snatched up her pillow and pinned it over her head as she flopped back down on her bed.

* * *

They sat in the lecture hall along with three hundred other freshman college students. The professor stood center stage as he droned on and on about ancient theologies. Buffy dozed off as she tuned the teacher out. Impatiently Willow nudged her with her elbow. Buffy jumped, startling many of the students around her. As they turned to look at her, she blushed lightly and sank down into her seat.

"So we see that in early Chinese history, there was a focus on beaurocracy rather than actual religion....," Professor Crandell lectured, continuing his monotonous litany.

"Rough night?" Willow whispered to her.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Basically the same dream I’ve been having for the past month."

Willow turned to her, worry shining in her eyes. "The one where you’re being chased?"

"That’s the one," she said with a nod.

"You know, maybe-maybe I could help you. Maybe there’s a-a hidden meaning -"

"No. I think it’s more of a prophetic type of thing. It was...different last night," Buffy began. She paused for a moment and looked over to Willow. Her voice was low when she continued. "Whistler was in it. And he...he warned me about Angelus returning."

Willow’s eyes got wide and she gulped loudly. Buffy noticed and felt a need to put Willow at ease. "Which is stupid because we all know Angel can’t change unless he gets a happy and, well.... Well. He has no reason to become Crazy Stalker Guy again."

Willow’s voice was quiet, "But-but...you think it’s worth looking into?"

She nodded reluctantly. "Anything is worth looking into if it prevents that from happening." She hastily corrected herself. "I mean, on a purely theoretical level."

Meanwhile Professor Crandell was drawing the class to a close. "So read chapters five through ten and there will be an exam next Friday. Have a nice weekend."

The students began to gather their things and wander out of the room. Willow and Buffy picked up their books and turned to walk out the back entrance of the room. Buffy noticed how withdrawn Willow was acting.

"So. Anyway. You and Oz doing anything special tonight?" she asked with a grin.

Willow smiled indulgently. "Yeah. He...I...we...we’re going to spend the night at the beach."

Buffy frowned. "Well...just be careful. Don’t forget to bring protection."

Willow’s face blossomed bright red as she turned to Buffy. "Wha-what?" Buffy looked at her oddly. "Oh! Oh, right. Yeah. Extra stakes already packed. Crosses and holy water too." She grinned weakly.

Buffy shot her a knowing grin and Willow hurried to change the subject.

"What about you?"

"Well, I’m going to patrol for a while. But things seem to be slow recently. Not that it gives me a warm and fuzzy. Then I have an intimate weekend planned with Chapters 5 through 10," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and grinned.

"You’re going to call him," Willow said matter-of-factly.

With a sigh she replied. "Yes. I just...I just want to make sure things are ok."

Willow nodded. "That’s probably a good idea. I mean, rather be safe the sorry, right?"

The paused in front of the steps of the dormitory. Buffy dropped her gaze to the ground.

"I don’t have a good feeling about this, Will."

"Why don’t you talk to Giles about it? He might be able to find something on what else might be able to change Angel," she suggested.

She raised her head and looked around. All of the students were walking around, seemingly carefree. She nodded. "It’s worth a shot." She grinned wryly. "Yay. Yet another few hours of wallowing in the depths of ancient history."

Willow gave her a sympathetic look, then took a deep breath. "Well. I need to go pack the rest of my gear. You know, can’t forget the toothpaste."

"Yeah. Icky morning mouth can be a real mood killer."

Willow reached out to pat her arm. "It’s going to be fine. Everything is going really well. And-and...everybody’s happy and we all have our own niche. Niches are very important, you know." She smiled one last time and ran inside. Buffy wrapped her arms around her books as she watched after Willow.

"It’s going to be fine. Everything is going really well. That’s what worries me," she muttered under her breath.

* * *

The sky was clear, but the shadows seemed even denser this night. Boxes and trash spilled over into the alley from the dumpster behind the bar. As Angel leaned forward to stake one vampire, another one stalked him from behind. As the one in front of him exploded into dust, Angel quickly spun around, his fist connecting violently with the second vamp’s nose. As he caught him off guard, Angel plunged the stake into it’s heart.

"I don’t know why you do it. I mean, wasting a perfectly good night behind a bar instead of inside. I don’t even know why I continue to dress up. It’s not like any worthy man is going to be seeing me," Cordelia whined.

He raised his head, an incredulous look passing over his flawless features.

"Go home Cordelia," he told her.

"Excuse me? And let you have all the fun?" she asked. She rolled her eyes and surveyed their dreary surroundings.

Angel was not paying attention to her. He gazed pensively at the stake in his hand. "You’re right. You don’t belong here."

Her voice was overly saccharine as she turned to him. "Why Angel. I didn’t know you cared."

He finally looked up at her. "Did you notice anything different about these?"

Cordy arched a finely sculpted brow. "Big fangs. Bad hair. No, not really."

Angel rolled his eyes, mimicking her action of earlier. His tone was firm as he spoke again. "Go home. Something’s not right here. Things have just been getting crazier around here and I need to find out why. And I’m not going to get anywhere with you around. I won’t have you getting hurt again."

"Look, I can take care of myself," she told him as she stood up to him defiantly. He shot her a doubtful look. She placed her hands on her hips and her eyes sparked with anger as she countered him. "Why does everyone think I’m not capable of handling these situations. Hello?!?! Didn’t I spend the last three years fighting those big, bad Hellmouth-y creatures right along with the rest of you? So I’m not Little Miss Stakes-A-Lot. But I can bring down a Versace sales associate with only a look. So don’t tell me I’m not good in the face of confrontation."

His tone was dry as he spoke to her, though inside he conceded that she probably was a force to be reckoned with - given the right incentive. "Well the next time I need a makeover, I’ll give you a call. But for now I mean it. Go."

She grumbled in discontent. "Fine. Be that way." She straightened the hem of her short skirt and began to stalk off. She stopped about twenty paces off and turned towards him slightly. "Same time tomorrow night?"

Angel noticed her hopeful look and nodded, hiding a grin. "Yeah. I’ll meet you at the office." As she moved out of view he muttered to himself. He paced around the area where the vampires had been. The creatures were becoming lazy of late. They were unprepared and practically crazed. They were acting on instinct rather than intellect. It almost seemed as if they were becoming mentally unstable.....by fear.

He walked out of the alley and paused as he heard a noise. Nothing remained but an empty darkness. He began to cautiously make his way home, keeping extremely alert. As he reached his apartment door he looked over his shoulder suspiciously. A lone black cat ran across the street. Everything was silent. He opened the door and stepped inside. As he flipped on the light switch, he set his dark trench over the back of the old armchair next to the door. He looked out over the spacious room, open and sparsely furnished. With a soft sound he walked out of the side glass doors into the small courtyard. A small breeze stirred over him as he moved out into the otherwise still night. A shiver ran down his back. A shadow hovered near the wrought iron gate.

"Who’s there?" he asked, suddenly feeling an extra presence.

Only silence answered him.

He walked towards the entrance at the back, where the shadow stayed. His hand moved to the stake in his back pocket.

"Come out now and I’ll let you live long enough to tell me what you’re doing here."

Again, only silence. The air was hot and muggy as he moved into the dense darkness of the makeshift jungle. The light scent of jasmine surrounded him momentarily. As he reached the place where the shadow was, he punched outward. The black cat hissed and jumped at him. As he swerved it ran past him through the plants and out of the gate. With a soft laugh at himself he replaced the stake in his back pocket. As he turned to go back inside, a soft voice sounded behind him.

"Nice reflexes," it said, husky and low, but decidedly feminine.

Angel spun around and threw the stake towards the sound of the voice. She caught it in her hand and tossed it back to him.

"Now just imagine how bad it would have been if I were an unsuspecting mortal," she said, her voice faintly mocking.

His own voice was a mixture of suspicion, wariness and derision as he spoke. "Seeing as how you’re trespassing, you could hardly be described as unsuspecting."

"Perhaps."

"Who are you?" he asked again.

She turned from him and walked into his apartment. He followed her, stake still in hand. She moved into his kitchen and pulled down a glass form his cabinet. She filled it with water and took a slow, deliberate sip before turning to face him.

"You seem overly familiar with this place," he said discontentedly.

"I’ve looked around," she replied simply.

Angel was becoming increasingly annoyed. But as she turned, his eyes opened wide. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. He opened his mouth as memories came flooding back to him. He shook his head in disbelief and she set the glass down.

"Remember me?"

"It can’t be you."

Her silver gaze looked at him inquisitively. "Why not? Did you really think I’d be as easy to break as poor little Dru?"

He exhaled deeply. "Kiara?"

She walked up to him and placed her hands lightly upon his chest. "The one and only."

He backed away, a look of horror on his handsome face. She dropped her hands to her side and looked at him sadly.

"Good or evil, you never could bring yourself to understand me, could you?"

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

Her voice was low and soothing as she spoke. "I want to help you."

He scoffed. "Help me what? Drive the stake into my heart?"

Kiara reached out to him, but her shook his head and moved back.

"What do you think I am?" she asked, hurt evident in her voice.

"I don’t know. I never knew."

"Then can you at least tell me why you seem to fear me?"

Angel remained silent.

She nodded, understanding. "If you think I’m here to extract vengeance, you’re wrong. You never could comprehend what I was about. But despite what you think, I’m here to help you. And you can’t escape that."

He made his way to the door. "Oh, I think I can."

"It’ll only be more painful if you don’t cooperate. I know what you’re going through. And yet, even now you can’t listen with your heart and not your head."

He turned back to her. "I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

She sighed. "Then sit down. Listen to me."

He looked at her, disbelievingly. "And why should I?"

She looked at him, her light eyes regarding him wearily. "Because you owe me that much," she told him quietly.

He stood still for a long moment. Then with one last glance outside he closed the door and walked back inside. He moved to the single sofa in his living room, hanging his head, knowing he had just sealed his fate.

Chapter 2:

Kiara stood in front of the lit fireplace. It’s light illuminated the deep blue silk of her dress and her soft, tanned skin. Angel sat on his sofa, his elbows propped up on his knees, his forehead resting in his upturned palms. Her long, silken black hair cascaded over her shoulders as she bowed her head. She remained pensive, wondering where to begin. Minutes passed.

"I’m sorry," Angel whispered, breaking the silence.

She looked up at him, her gaze saddened as she sensed his pain. "I know," she replied, her voice soft.

He looked up at her, guilt, anger and hope all shining in his dark eyes. "How can you?" he laughed hollowly. "How can you stand there and think you know how this feels?" He hesitated momentarily. His voice was emotionless as he began again. "You were dead." Memories flashed through his mind in bright bursts as he sat there: Kiara laughing up at him. Kiara looking at him with the unmistakable glow of love in her silver eyes. Kiara dancing with him in the moonlight. Kiara chained to her open terrace, pain in her soft gaze as the sun began to rise. "You were dead...." he stated, though there was a hesitant question in his tone.

"You of all people should know appearances aren’t always what they seem," she stated quietly, feeling his inner turmoil.

"Well you sure as hell aren’t human, or else you look really great for 441." He scowled up at her. "So what I want to know is how you escaped from certain death." And why I never knew you were still alive he thought to himself.

She considered his request. "Death’s a tricky thing these days. I hear even you came back after a brief interim in Hell."

"How did you know -"

"News travels fast in our circles," she offered as a lame explanation.

She paced back and forth in front of the mantle. There was a brief silence. "There’s so much you never knew about me." A bittersweet smile crossed her lips. "Much you never took the time to find out."

He looked up at her, his face haggard. "Kiara.... I can’t ever ask you to

forgive me. It’s hard to explain -"

"Don’t bother," she said sharply. After a brief hesitation she turned to him, much softer. "I mean, I knew why you did it."

"Did you?"

She disregarded his question. "You can’t kill me." She grinned. "Much to the bane of many others, it just can’t be done. Not until I’ve accomplished what I’m here to do."

"What you’re here to do? I assume you mean that in a general sense, seeing as how I obviously couldn’t kill you back then either?" he asked contritely.

She shrugged and again didn’t answer him. She looked at him deeply until he was forced to look away from the intensity of her gaze.

Her voice was low as she spoke. "I loved you."

"I know."

"I still do."

Angel looked up and opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off.

"I know you’ve found love," Kiara said. "She’s a lovely girl. Smart. Savvy.

Beautiful. A Slayer." He quirked a brow and she nodded. "Yes, I’ve seen her. Many times. I’ve no doubt she’s good for you." She looked around his lonely apartment. "Or she would be...."

"We can’t be together," he explained, defensively.

She laughed softly. "You don’t get as far as I have and not know the rules, Angel. I know why you’re not together."

Angel stood and paced the length of the room, stopping to stand in front of the open glass doors leading to the courtyard. "And why is that?" he asked nonchalantly.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity before answering him, her gaze wandering completely over his form; a loving, yearning, saddened look in her eyes.

"You can’t trust yourself to be with her."

* * *

Buffy sat on her bed, history books opened and strewn over the top. She leaned back into her pillows and listened to the radio. The phone was cradled in her lap. Her eyes closed as she thought to herself.

'It’s late. It’s almost 12.'

Which just happens to be about lunch time for him, the second voice in her head stated.

Her eyes flew open decisively and she picked up the receiver to begin dialing.

She set the phone back down with a groan. She couldn’t even get through the whole number before chickening out. With a sigh she turned her head, her gaze connecting to the framed picture of Willow, Xander and her on her nightstand. She reached out and let her fingertips trail lightly over the cool glass.

Again she picked up the phone, determined this time. She dialed the number. 'Pick up, pick up, please pick up' she thought. On the fifth ring someone picked up.

"Hello?"

Buffy remained silent, cursing herself for being susceptible to that voice.

"Hello?" she heard Angel say again.

She hung up the phone quickly. With a frustrated sigh she flopped backwards onto the bed. She reached out blindly and fumbled around for the remote for a minute, then found it and switched on the TV As she curled up with her pillow, the phone rang. Startled, she bolted upright, knocking everything from her bed in her scramble to reach the phone. Hesitantly she picked up the phone, too nervous to say anything.

"H-hello? Is anyone there? B-Buffy?" she heard Giles’ voice at the other end of the line.

She took a deep breath and answered him, her voice carrying her disappointment.

"Oh. Giles. Ummm...yeah. I’m here."

"Did I call at a bad time? Where you expecting someone else?"

"N-n-no. I, uhhh....I was just watching a scary movie," she finished lamely.

"Ah, yes. Well. I see. Well, is there any possibility that you could meet me at the library now? I know you have your studying to do, but I think I may have...have found something dealing with your question of earlier. About Angel."

Buffy gripped the phone tightly. "I’ll be right there." With that she hung up the phone and rushed out of her room.

Giles sat in his office, staring at the recently dead phone, a look of bemusement on his face. On his desk was a printout of the Restoration spell, a book entitled "The A to Z of Angels and Demons", an open book entitled "Lost Souls", a book of mythology of angels, a report of "angels" from the Watcher’s Council records, and an old, weathered sketch of Kiara.

* * *

She ran into the library, letting the doors slam closed behind her. As she skidded to a halt she noticed the disapproving looks of the librarians and patrons near her. With a casual shrug of apology she looked around, easily noticing Giles despite the dark atmosphere.

Giles watched her entrance ruefully before standing to gather his bag of books. After making sure that she was in following distance, he wove his way through the aisles and aisles of books. As he neared the back of the dim, cavernous library he spotted the isolated table he was searching for. He set his bag on the table and moments later Buffy arrived at the small alcove.

"Wow Giles. Do you really think this is private enough? I mean, I think I saw Jimmy Hoffa back there...."

He arched a brow and nodded to the seat across from him.

"So what’s the what?" she asked as she settled in. He couldn’t help but notice how tense she was.

"Well, I, uh, I think I may have found something to do with Angel’s

transformation. I mean, that is, I’ve found a prophecy-"

She perked up instantly. "Prophecy? What prophecy? Why am I always the last one to know about these things?"

"Like I said, I may have found it.....that is, I’m not certain it has to do

with Angel. And I have, uh, have not yet affirmed my translation of such-"

She cut him off again. "So you’re telling me we may or may not have a prophecy about Angel and it may or may not say what you think it says? Way to go, Giles. Nothing like staying ahead in the game."

He glowered at her. "Are you quite finished yet?"

"Translate me. I’m practically breathless with antici.................pation." She grinned. He frowned and slipped off his glasses, bowing his head as he wiped them off. She sighed and muttered, "I’m quite finished yet."

He slid his glasses back on and withdrew the books from his bag. Buffy looked at them skeptically.

"’The A to Z of Angels and Demons’? ‘Fact and Fiction of Angels and other Spiritual Sightings’? Ummm, Giles? Correct me if I’m wrong here, but I don’t think we need to take Angel’s name quite so literally." He shot her another look and she lifted her hands in submission. "I’m hushing, I’m hushing."

"As I was saying before, I wasn’t quite certain as to whether or not this precise prophecy would pertain to Angel or not. But upon further investigation to the Watcher’s Council diaries and reports, I found proof of a demon that seemingly defies any other demon I’ve ever encountered. Now," he withdrew the codex and opened it, pointing out the page he was referring to. "This is, uh, this is what I’ve translated it to, to say: When Angel and Demon shall meet on the battlefield, one soul will be acquired. Blood is mightier than the death of the Chosen. Blood binds three, and three bind blood. And in exchange shall the curse be lifted."

Buffy looked up at him, confusion plain on her face. "So what’s it? In English, please?"

Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I’m not sure."

"You’re not sure?" she asked incredulously. "And while we’re on that page, what’s all this ‘death of the Chosen’ stuff? I’m not quite sure I like the sound of that."

Giles flipped through one of the Watcher’s diaries and handed the book to Buffy. She set the book upon the table and looked at the old sketch. It was done impeccably, with simple lines used to portray the pure beauty of its subject. Her eyes scanned the parchment, noting the dark hair and twinkling eyes. The supple lips curled in such a secretive smile that Buffy wanted to smile back at her in order to try to gain the secret. She had the distinct feeling that this drawing had been done by the girl’s lover, such a look of love and desire was held in those light eyes. She looked up at Giles. "Lemme guess? Penthouse, 1650? And to think I thought you Watchers were all prudes."

He rolled his eyes at her flippant tone. "Her name was Kiara. It is unknown as to when she was actually turned. However, stories of her began to surface around 1580. She was cruel. One of the deadliest demons ever, as I hear it." Buffy arched her brows dubiously. He noticed. "She killed for pleasure. She was utterly carefree. Streets literally ran with tides of blood in the villages she stayed. Think Angelus multiplied by one hundred. But...she was never caught. She was always one step ahead of our Slayers." Buffy listened to his words and looked down at the smiling girl in the picture, unable to believe they were one and the same person. But Giles was still droning on. "- for about a hundred years. Then, all information of her whereabouts and activities ceased. It was as if she just disappeared. The Council assumed she was killed."

Buffy looked up at him, then at his watch. It was almost 2. "So what’s this have to do with Angel?"

Giles messaged his temples and continued. "Well, ah, around the 1790’s, when Angelus was in his hey-day, there is mention of a woman he associated with. Actually, there’s quite a bit of mention. It seems as if the two were inseparable for almost five years. Albeit, not long in demon chronology. Well, this of course caught the Watchers’ attention, given Angelus’ ever growing reputation. Reports came in that she was this, er, long lost vampire. However, as Angelus’ tirade continued, she never seemed to be a part of any of it. They were seen numerous times in various locations. Sometimes together, sometimes not. But always a spectacle. Interestingly enough, they did not hide out, but reveled in the luxuriant parties thrown by the wealthy and famous of the times." He paused.

"Could she have been the mastermind behind him?" Buffy asked.

Giles considered her question. "Actually, it’s been speculated upon gratuitously. Many of the Watcher’s Council believe it to be so."

Buffy looked down at the drawing, seeing the sensuous lines drawn painstakingly on the paper. "So, when did she and Angel part ways? Or why?"

"Well, ah, all we, uh, all we know is that five years after they met, his interest lay more in tormenting other subjects. There is no mention of her ever again in the records."

"So we don’t even really know that this woman was the woman from before. I mean, for all we know she could have been a mortal he was just having fun with?" she asked.

"Well, yes. Theoretically. But her appearance is uncannily similar to that of Kiara’s." Giles pulled out an even older, weathered sketch of the beauty. It was nowhere near as well drawn as the sketch Buffy held in front of her, but she could tell the undeniable likeness between the two.

"So when was that one drawn?" she nodded to the older one.

"Most likely around the time she was changed, we estimate late 1570’s, early 1580’s."

"Speaking of golden oldies, what was she like before she turned? If she took such delight in killing, was she evil even before?" Buffy looked up at him, her green eyes inquisitive.

Giles coughed and she could have swore he blushed. "Actually, we, ah, we....we don’t know."

She arched a brow. "Oh. So the all knowing Watchers aren’t infallible? Big surprise there."

"We assume that she was somewhat evil beforehand. To go on a killing rampage such as hers...." Giles shuddered.

"So tell me again why you think any of this has anything to do with Angel?"

Giles wrote down his translation of the prophecy on a blank piece of paper. Then handed it to her. "We have ‘Angel meets Demon on a battlefield’. That could describe Angel and Kiara. ‘Blood mightier than the death of the Chosen’, well....I think that’s self explanatory." Giles looked down from her accusing glare. He cleared his throat and continued. "’Blood binds three and three bind blood’, I take this to refer to Angel, Spike and Drusilla who are all strongly bound by blood. They may symbolize a family to her. But," he shook his head, "I’m not sure what the prophecy foretells taking place, save for the recantation of Angel’s soul. Also....." his gaze wandered to the most recent sketch as he motioned to it. Buffy looked at him expectantly. He pointed to the area where the signature should be, though there was nothing but shading. However, upon closer inspection she could just barely make out "Angelus" in the smeared charcoal.

Buffy stood up wearily. "Can you just tell me what you think will happen then?"

Giles looked up at her hopelessly. "I...I think that the demon Kiara wants to take Angel’s soul away. I think she wants her toy back. And I think she will manipulate Spike, Drusilla, Angel and even you, to get her way."

Buffy nodded to him and made her way out of the library.

Chapter 3:

Angel opened his eyes from his place on the sofa and saw her standing in the sunlight. 'It’s a dream' he thought. He closed his eyes again and threw his arm over them. In bright, blinding flashes, scenes from his past swam through his mind, just as they had as he’d slept away most of the day.

'Bloody hell' he thought. 'If she wants to play, that’s fine with me.' Angelus watched from a few paces off as Darla seduced her prey. The young man was a fop. He didn’t know why they didn’t just enjoy themselves and engorge themselves on the whole damn lot of the insipid human toys. He turned abruptly and walked off, annoyed.

He clasped his hands behind his back as he made his way through the elaborate gardens of this night’s hosts. The moonlight bathed the yards in an eerie silver-blue light that beckoned the demon inside of him. Restraint was not his best feature and Darla knew this. 'Damn her!' He could hear the tittering laughter of the not-so-innocent young maids as they succumbed to the more zealous rakehells. *Ah yes. I should only be so lucky as to be taking delicious advantage of one of these child’s wiles.* He made his way absently through the darkened paths, thinking once again how easy attack would be here. Unknowingly and uncaringly he stepped inside the hosts’ renowned labyrinth. Seeing the drunken young man stumbling ahead of him, he began stalking him with a subconscious stealth. The man was so sotted that he didn’t even realize what was happening until Angelus’ fangs were buried to the hilt in his jugular. 'No fun' he thought. 'Didn’t even struggle.' He let the lifeless body sink to the ground and continued walking the maze of the labyrinth, guided unconsciously towards the heart. He moved quietly but it was not until he was twenty feet away from the center entrance that he heard the soft humming. He inched forward slowly, lurking within the dense foliage of the tall hedges. He stopped right before he walked into the clearing.

The heart of the maze was a circle about thirty feet in diameter. It was paved with stones that, if looked at from above, would have created a geometrically precise spiral. Though the hedge walls encompassing the clearing were at least ten feet high, the moon still spotlighted the area. He knew it to be well after midnight, but somehow the light did not create shadows in the surreal alcove. But his attention was on none of this. In the very center of the spiral was a girl. 'Take her!' his mind screamed. But he held back, content to watch for the moment. Her long black hair swirled around her slender frame as she spun around, humming, dancing in the moonlight. She raised her arms and her face towards the dark sky littered with stars. He could tell her eyes were closed but his own gaze was riveted on the secretive smile on her lips. For a moment he yearned to know that secret.

'Fool!' his mind screamed once more. *Secrets? The only secrets she has are yours for the tasting.* Still he didn’t move. She slowly stopped her twirling and looked around, a contemplative look on her face. *Does she sense me?* She turned her back to him and wrapped her arms around herself. Yes, be afraid. Be wary. He took in the rest of her. She was petite and the long white gown hung perfectly on her small body. The décolletage on the gown was deep and the heavy cloth was balanced on the very edges of the gentle slope of her shoulders. A breeze blew through the clearing and danced through her dark locks, exposing the soft skin of her bare back, her smooth shoulders, her gracefully curving neck. The hunger pounded through his body, but he kept it in check. Without a sound he moved swiftly to stand behind her. He knew she remained unaware of him, her eyes closed as if she were watching something of utmost importance behind the thin, almost translucent lids. His hands hovered over her shoulders. Her scent was intoxicating to him. Almost like...jasmine. But it was not a perfumed smell. This scent came from within her, her skin, her blood. It was her essence. He inhaled deeply as he noted the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. A child. He frowned at the thought. How could a child be so enticing to him? He shook the thought off. A meal is a meal, afterall he thought.

"I knew you would come," she said, her voice soft and low, like a warm wind blowing over him. He was shocked. Had he given some sign that he was there? Her eyes were still closed. He didn’t say a word, for fear she was speaking to herself or to her dream.

"My Angel," she whispered. He froze.

She turned to him and looked up at him, her silver eyes dancing in the glow of the moonlight. She smiled that smile up at him and he felt as if the world was tilting. She raised her fingers to trace over the ridges of his features and he only then realized he had morphed into his game face. He snarled lowly, but it did not stop her exploration. She touched him gently, almost as if in awe. You coward. He grabbed her slender wrist, marveling at how frail it seemed, and twisted it harshly behind her back. He buried his free hand in the silken mass of her raven black hair and bent her head to the side, exposing her sweet neck to him once again. His growl was half moan as his gaze took her in. He was angry at himself for being so drawn in

by this slip of a girl.

"I’m going to enjoy drinking you, luv. You’re quite the tender morsel," he snarled. He was furious with himself, but could only transfer that onto her. He wanted her to beg. To plead. He wanted to see the fright, the pleading in her eyes. Her eyes that were brighter than stars in the black velvet sky. Without another thought he bared his fangs to her and dipped his head to the curve of her neck.

She remained calm. "You won’t," she said.

Her words stopped him. *I won’t?!?! Where in the hell does she think she is? Maybe she’s insane.* He laughed darkly inside. He bent his head and let his fangs scrape her tender skin, beads of dark red blood forming on the scratches. He intended to show that he most certainly would. His tongue licked at the drops of blood. They inflamed his senses.

"You can’t," she said in that same even tone.

He stopped as he finished lapping at the blood. He suddenly felt as if the world was turning the other way. His hands rested upon her cool shoulders. He shook his head, disbelievingly, and thrust her violently away. She fell a few paces away. She watched him calmly as he stalked off. She slept in the heart of the labyrinth amidst the screams of terror and cries for mercy as Angelus disregarded his sire’s request and feasted in a rage upon the party attendants.

She sighed like a contented lover as her fingertips traced the quickly healing scratches upon her neck. "My Angel," she whispered.

He opened his eyes again as the sun went down. The first thing he saw was that she was sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching him sleep. She smiled at him as he sat up.

"Sleep well?" she inquired.

"Not exactly."

She nodded and stood up at the same time he did. The second thing he noticed was that she had cleaned. He looked at her curiously. She shrugged.

"We’re going to have visitors," she said evasively.

*****

"So you think it’s serious?" Willow asked. She was seated Indian style in the middle of her made bed. She’d gotten back a few hours earlier and was shocked by all Buffy had told her.

Buffy was packing. "I think anything dealing with Angelus, Spike, Dru, not to mention the creature from the Black Lagoon, is serious." She halted her packing and turned to face Willow. "I can’t let anything happen to him, Will. If I don’t do anything and Angel does change, it might as well be my fault all over again....." Willow patted the spot next to her on her bed and she sat down.

"It wasn’t your fault."

Buffy exhaled.

Willow grimaced. She hadn’t gained much insight from what Buffy had told her. It wasn’t like Giles to be so lax in his duties. If he couldn’t understand what was going to happen, no one was likely to find out until after it happened. "So wh-what are you planning to do?"

Buffy stood and walked back to her bed. She proceeded to finish packing.

"I’m going to do the only thing I can do."

Willow watched her. "Aren’t you forgetting the kitchen sink?" she joked.

Buffy looked up, her mind elsewhere. "Huh?" She looked down at her overflowing bags. "Oh." She smiled lamely.

"Buffy...don’t you think it might be a bad idea to go to L.A.?"

"It’s the only option I have, Will. If I don’t go and Angelus returns, who’s going to be there to stop him? I have to go and hope I get there in time."

"But...I....I mean, don’t you think that you’re going to L.A. might in effect complete the prophecy? What with the whole Chosen death thing going on?"

Buffy shrugged. "It’s a risk I gotta take." She zipped up her bags and tossed them on the floor. She placed her hands at the back pockets of her tight black leather pants. "I’m gonna go see Mom before I go. You’ll watch things here for me, won’t ya?"

Willow stood and hugged her quickly. "You know us." She grinned. "The Scooby Gang’s always up for a night of stalking the undead and assorted freaky things of the Hellmouth."

Buffy nodded and walked to the door. She turned as she opened it. "And, uh, Will....? Don’t tell Giles where I went immediately. Just give me a bit of time to kinda get things straightened out, k?"

Willow nodded, though she didn’t think it was the best idea not to tell Giles. "My lips are not only zipped, they’re hermetically sealed. But I do have one more question...."

Buffy looked at her expectantly.

"What about Aidan?"

Buffy froze. She looked at Willow askance. Hiding her shock that she’d totally forgotten in the last 48 hours about the guy she’d been dating fairly regularly, she answered Willow. "Don’t tell him either. I hope I’ll be back before I’m missed." With that she smiled at Willow and walked out.

She opened the door to her house and switched on the lights. It was very quiet.

"Mom? Are you home?" she called out. She heard the upstairs bathroom door open.

"Buffy? Is that you?" her mother called down weakly. Fearing the worst, Buffy ran up the stairs. Her mother was leaning over the bathroom sink.

"Mom?" she spoke quietly. "Are you okay?"

Joyce Summers turned her head and gave her daughter a wan smile. "I’m fine.

I think it’s just a virus that’s been going around at the gallery."

Buffy nodded, though she was still more than a little nervous. She took her mother’s arm and a wet face cloth. "Come on. I’m going to put you to bed." Joyce followed obligingly to her bedroom and reclined on top of her bed. Buffy laid the cool cloth on her forehead. "Just rest, ok? I’m going to go make you a cup of tea." Joyce nodded and closed her eyes, thoughts swirling through her mind. Just as she was about to go to sleep, Buffy popped back in.

"Honey. Why are you home? Are you ok?" she asked weakly.

Buffy set up the tea on the nightstand and perched on the edge of the bed next to her mother. "Yeah. I just wanted to tell you I’m not going to be in town for the weekend."

Joyce sat up in bed with minimal help from Buffy. "Oh? Where are you going?"

Buffy hid her gaze as she answered. "To L.A."

"L.A.? But what’s-" her eyes got wide as she realized. "Oh Buffy. You aren’t going to see him, are you?"

"Mom," she began. "It’s not what you think..."

"Not what I think?" she yelled. She calmed down before continuing. "There’s no reason for you to see him, Buffy. He left. You both know it’s for the best. Besides, what about that nice boy you’ve brought home a couple of times? What’s his name?" She wracked her brain for a name. "Andrew? Arthur? Alan?"

Buffy’s tone was cool as she spoke to her mother. "His name is Aidan, and just because Angel and I have broken up doesn’t mean we can’t be friends."

Her mother looked at her skeptically. "Oh? And I assume this is just a friendly visit?"

"Yes!"

Joyce shook her head. "No. I forbid it. You may not go to L.A. to see that...that....that VAMPIRE!"

Buffy stood up. "I’m 18, Mom. I’m in college. I don’t even live here anymore. You cannot forbid me to go to L.A." She began to walk out of the room.

Her mother sat up weakly. "Buffy Anne Summers! You come back here right now! Seeing Angel is not the right thing to do. Not when you’ve finally got a normal life within your grasp!"

Buffy stopped in her tracks. She walked back into the room. Her voice was deadly calm. "You think that’s what this is all about? A normal life? Well I’ve gotten past that dream and you should too. Because it’s just a dream. To hope for more would be selfish. This is my life. I’m the Slayer. The rest is just an added bonus." She sighed, suddenly feeling too old. "Mom, I’m sorry if this upsets you. But I am going to him, and you can’t stop me." She walked to Joyce. Leaning down, she kissed her forehead. "I love you, Mom. Get better. I don’t like seeing you sick." She walked out of the room and out of the house.

Joyce stood, torn between running after her daughter or running to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach yet again. But the choice was taken away from her and she sprinted to the bathroom.

Chapter 4:

They’d been patrolling for three hours with nary a vampire to be found.

"You think it’s the weather? I mean, look at what it’s doing to my hair," Cordelia remarked.

Angel mumbled something under his breath. She shot him a glance. "Why don’t you go home Cordelia? We might as well call it a night. I know we’re not going to find any."

She thought his suggestion over. It’d be nice to have night off. "Why don’t we go out? We both need a rest. It’d be fun to just relax and dance for a night, wouldn’t it?"

He looked around, wanting anything but to go out with Cordy. Drawing up his courage he answered, "Fine. You lead the way." She smiled at him and straightened her short skirt. For the umpteenth time he wondered if she ever actually expected to fight, dressed like that.

She looked over her shoulder to see if he was coming and caught his glance. She looked down at her skirt and noted the drift of his thoughts. Smiling smugly she called back over her shoulder, "It’s called dressing to kill."

Angel looked up, surprised, but she’d already turned back around and was walking purposefully towards the club across the street. He hadn’t known he was so obvious in his critical perusal. He’d have to remember that Cordelia was a bit more perceptive than she let on.

As they walked into The Inferno, as the club was called, he noted a few undead around. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he mused, these were only the ones he did business with on a regular basis. They nodded at him imperceptibly but did not note his existence any further. As a known foe to the vampire culture, association with him could blow their respective covers.

He looked around, surprised to realize he’d been there before. The decor was dark of course, with red lighting and red leather and velvet furniture. It was basically a modern motif with steel and black iron furnishings. Though the use of red gave off a "hot" atmosphere, he realized the rest of the room was rather cold and sterile. A band was playing on stage and he noticed with feigned interest, the two women dancing in cages on either side. He wouldn’t have picked this place as a winner on the "Cordy-scale" of fun.

As Cordelia excused herself to dance with a particularly arrogant young man, Angel sentenced himself to a drink and an isolated booth. He had lost all track of space and time when he realized something was going on in the club. He shook his head and looked around. He couldn’t see Cordelia anywhere. In fact, he thought for a moment that the club had closed because he couldn’t see anyone anywhere. But he could still hear the fast, pulsating beat of the music. He twisted around in the booth and realized where everyone had gone. They were crowded around the cage to the left of the stage. His first urge was to make sure Cordelia was safe. He noticed her on the outskirts of the mob, pouting because she was no longer the center of attention. He stood and walked over to her.

"Not having fun?" he asked.

"Well, I was before it turned into the Slut-O-Rama." She nodded to the cage that so many men were crowded about.

He smirked. "Upset that you weren’t a contestant?"

"Watch it, Dead Boy," she shot back, reverting to her ex’s pet name for Angel.

He glowered. Something about the whole situation didn’t feel right to him. "I’ll be right back," he told her, then began to weave through the mass to see what exactly was getting so much attention. The beat changed as he neared the front. It was slow and seductive, and when he lifted his gaze, he could see why. Why everything, actually.

Her legs were long and tanned and shaped perfectly. Her body was petite but sculpted beautifully, like a work of art. The men around him sighed as she tossed her head back, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the music.

Her long black hair swirled around her body as she twisted and twirled, her body moving like liquid she was so smooth and fluid. Her hips swayed back and forth rhythmically. Her fingers traveled slowly up and down the bars, enjoying her imprisonment.

He stared at her, transfixed, reminded of a time centuries ago. He felt a shiver deep down inside of him. The primal urge of hunger rose unbidden in him and he had to close his eyes momentarily to control himself. *What is she?* His own hands raised to grip the bars. If he’d been breathing, he would have stopped the moment she opened those stunning silver eyes to gaze down directly at him.

As he watched the sensuous lines of her body he could have sworn he saw her mouth "I knew you’d come." He blinked rapidly and shook his head. Her voice wafted through the cobwebs of his mind. "My Angel....." When he looked back up at her, she was no longer watching him. He turned around, and she and the music continued. As he made his way back to Cordy, he could not help but feel as if he’d lost a piece of himself.

"A real piece of work, isn’t she? Who does she think she is? Hormonal imbalance, much?" It was obvious to him that Cordy was still peeved at the lack of attention being paid her.

Angel threw his arm around her shoulders. "C’mon Cordy. It’s time we get home anyway."

She began to protest, but he led her out into the fading night. They walked in companionable silence, and once again Angel marveled at how well he at Cordy actually got along. He walked her to her apartment and then proceeded to go to his own home.

* * *

She was towel drying her dark hair when there was a knock on the door. She looked around quickly and threw on one of Angel’s shirts. Her damp hair hung down her back, below her waist, a few strands clinging to her cheek. Noticing that it was almost time for sunrise, she opened the door with a hesitant smile. A small girl, about her height, stood on the other side, bags in hand.

Until she dropped them and did a spin kick, knocking Kiara back into the apartment. She quickly recovered herself and as the Slayer jumped up, ready to come down on her again, Kiara sprang upwards, knocking them both back down to the floor. She watched the stake seemingly materialize in Buffy’s hand and laughed softly. She rolled onto her back and then rocked onto her shoulders, using the leverage to jump to her feet. Faster than Buffy’s eyes could see, she kicked the stake out of the Slayer’s hands and reached down to help her up. Much to Kiara’s consternation, Buffy accepted her hand and pulled her back down, only to jump on top of her, another stake in hand and hovering above her heart. She eyed the sharp wooden object momentarily.

"Where is he?" Buffy demanded.

Kiara looked around slowly. "I think I’m going to guess he’s not home yet."

Buffy looked down at the beautiful woman from her lover’s past and wanted to cry. She took in her perfect features, sparkling silver eyes, and the fact that she was wearing Angel’s shirt. She was either too late, or obviously not needed. No! she thought. *There is a prophecy and I’m here to stop it

from coming true, no matter what!*At that moment, the object of both their affections stood in the doorway. He quietly closed the door behind him, blocking out the fastly approaching sunlight. He watched them momentarily, a bemused look upon his dark face.

"Buffy?" he said after a long while when they all three looked back and forth between each other.

"Angel!" she exclaimed, relieved he had not been turned. She jumped off of the vampire woman and ran to him, enfolding him in a tight embrace.

Angel wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. Remembering their need to stay apart however, he drew back and distanced himself from her. He walked to the glass doors and undid the drapes that hid the sunlight from view. "What brings you here?" he asked carefully. Unable to resist, he turned to her, his eyes soft but restrained. "You look great," he said softly.

Watching them, Kiara stood slowly, a small frown marring her brow. Buffy noticed and shook herself mentally. "Angel. What’s she doing here? She’s evil. Not that you’ve not been known to hang out with the less savory of your people, but.... She’s going to take your soul away!" she blurted out.

Angel looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. "What?" he asked. He looked to each of them, unsure of what was going on. Bidden by the unknown source deep within him, he did a double take at Kiara in his shirt. Inhaling, though it wasn’t necessary, he looked at them. "Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?"

"She’s evil-" Buffy started.

"She’s right," Kiara said simply.

He looked at Kiara in surprise, and also a touch of hurt, he realized.

"Well, partially right, anyway," Kiara amended.

Buffy looked ready to attack her and he clenched his fists behind his back.

"Would you care to tell us which part she was right about exactly?"

Kiara licked her lips and nodded to the living room. "Maybe it’d be best if you two were sitting. I think this is going to be a complicated story."

They all moved to the large room, Angel and Buffy careful to sit on opposite ends of the sofa. Again Kiara found herself pacing in front of the fireplace. She looked up at them both, determination written plainly in her features.

"I did come here to make you lose your soul," she began.

Buffy almost leaped from the sofa, but Angel restrained her, wishing to hear the rest of the sordid plan first.

"But it’s not like I was doing it to hurt you."

Buffy snorted.

Kiara looked towards her, measuring her up. She addressed her before continuing. "You know, you’re very smart. And very beautiful. You’re tough, and you’ll survive. But I hate to tell you, little Slayer, that you haven’t lived for nearly five centuries. Now, no, I don’t profess to know you, as all you young children of this generation seem to think is impossible, but I do know that though that attitude of yours has gotten you out of many a fight, it’s not doing you any good right now. And I know that the reasons you’re here aren’t the noble ones of your dreams, but the selfish ones of your heart. So don’t judge me, little girl. You can’t kill me, like you can the rest of your big bad monsters. So you’ve dealt with evil. So what? You have no idea what I can do."

Angel smiled slightly as Buffy shut up and narrowed her eyes at the small woman in front of her.

Kiara’s silver eyes snapped as she turned around to compose herself. *Good one* she thought. *Why don’t you just try and see if she can hate you anymore than she does now.* She continued, "I am here to cause you to lose your soul." She narrowed her eyes and Angel was struck by how alike the two women were. "Truth be told, I was rather hoping just learning I was alive would, errr...." she looked toward Buffy, "’give you a happy’ I believe is what I mean." She grinned as she saw Buffy cross her arms over her chest defensively. "However, you were merely relieved, then guilt ridden. Which so wasn’t in my plan."

"What exactly is your plan?" Buffy asked scornfully.

Kiara pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them, her elbows resting atop her knees as she leaned forward. Her silver eyes were soft and fathomless as she looked at Angel. "In order for his soul to become permanent - without a curse - he must fight himself for it." She turned to Buffy. "In other words, he has to lose his soul then regain it - without the help of a curse. He must perform a deed that will restore his soul to him."

Buffy stared at her for a long moment, as did Angel. "Why would you want to do this?" she asked Kiara.

Kiara kept her gaze on Angel as she spoke. "Because I know it can be done. And because the threat of Angelus returning to stay is far too great for this world." She sighed, her voice lowering. "And because I love him more than life itself, and I would give anything for him to be happy."

Buffy’s green eyes widened as she looked back and forth between the two. The woman was either lying or telling the truth. She didn’t know which she’d prefer.

Angel stood up. "Well, that’s enough chit-chat for tonight. I don’t know about you Buffy, but I think Kiara and I need some sleep." He hadn’t yet forgotten that dance. "Kiara has dibs on the bed, I’m sleeping on the sofa.....if you promise not to kill each other, I think you should stay in the bedroom with her."

Buffy nodded and picked up her discarded bags. Kiara strolled into the bedroom and picked up a brush to untangle the dark mass tumbling over her shoulders. Angel flopped down on the cushions and covered his eyes with his arms again. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter 5:

"She did WHAT?!?" Giles yelled as Joyce paced in front of his couch in his apartment.

"She went to L.A. to be with Angel," she repeated.

The ruffled Watcher looked around his room in bewilderment. He had found out some news that Buffy was not going to like. And now she wasn’t even around for him to tell. She was walking into battle with no weapons. He noticed how green Joyce looked.

"Are-are you...are you feeling well Mrs. Sum-...er.....Joyce?" he blushed and looked away.

Joyce didn’t notice. She held her stomach and looked around. "If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me where your bathroom is?"

Giles escorted the sick woman down the hall and returned to his den. He paced back and forth, unconsciously picking up her habit. Her was freed from his reverie at the sound of her retching in his bathroom. He hurried to the door.

"J-Joyce? Are you all right in there?" he stammered.

"I...I’m..........I’ll be.....fi-i-" she broke down into another bout of sickness.

He heard her mutter something about not being as bad last time. He opened the door and withdrew a cloth, wetting it to make it cool. He walked to her and held her hair back as she continued to bring up all the contents of her stomach - not that there was much left.

As the sickness ceased, he cradled her weakened form in his arms, wiping the sweat from her face with the cool cloth. "You’re very sick," he informed her, concerned. "Perhaps we should go to the hospital...?"

Joyce shook her head. "No. No. Really. I’ll be fine now."

"Well, do you, uhhh, do you know what’s wrong? Are you taking any medicine?"

She shook her head again. "Yes and no." She closed her eyes and slumped back against him.

Without any further qualms he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of his apartment to place her gently in his car. He drove as speedily as his old car could take him to the hospital. He pulled under the portico to the Emergency Room and parked the car in the middle of the drive. Giles raced around the side of the car and lifted her in his arms, disregarding the offers of assistance from the nurses and orderlies around him.

Joyce pleaded with him to put her down, but to no avail. A nurse walked up to him when she saw the commotion he was creating.

"Sir? Sir! Can you please slow down," Nurse Thompson ordered him.

"She-she’s very sick. She needs a doctor immediately," he told her.

The nurse guided him behind a small curtain and motioned for him to set her on the bed. As Joyce settled herself down, another nurse came to take her temperature and blood pressure.

Nurse Thompson led him to the waiting area. "You’ll have to wait out here, Sir. Don’t worry," she said with a gentle smile. "I’m sure the doctors will have you wife feeling better in no time."

Giles began to correct the nurse in her assumption, but it was useless for she’d already walked off. He sat down and contemplated calling Buffy’s dorm room, but he knew she’d already left town. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, wondering what else was going to happen before the night was over. He looked at his watch. It was 12 am. Technically the night was over. Buffy had left hours earlier and was probably already with Angel. *If only she’d stayed a while longer. I would have been able to clarify the prophecy and a bit of this Kiara woman’s history for her.* But it was an idle thought. Buffy could be in more trouble than was imaginable. And she would be, if he didn’t find her soon. However, Joyce’s health was the most important at this point in time. Buffy would never let him live if he didn’t take care of Joyce. Besides, he secretly harbored very warm feelings for her and could not bear to see her in any discomfort. He remained in this thoughtful position until the doctor came out to give him an update.

"Hello. Nurse Thompson told me you brought the woman in curtain 3 here?"

Giles nodded. "Yes. Is she, ah, is she going to be all right?"

The doctor beamed at him. "Yes. She’s getting dressed at the moment. I gave a small prescription for the sickness, but only to be taken if she absolutely needs it. Other than that, she seems to be in fine form. Congratulations."

Giles looked at him in confusion. "Yes, yes that’s wonderf- Excuse me?

Congratulations? For what, if I might ask?"

The doctor patted him on the back and gave him a knowing wink. "Your wife. She’s very healthy and seems to be handling the pregnancy quite well, except for the morning sickness, of course. Seems like it’s not just happening in the morning." He grinned. "Is this your first?" he inquired.

Giles’ jaw dropped and he had to shake himself physically. "Yes. I mean no, yes....I don’t know," he said.

The doctor gave him a curious look and then shrugged. "Well, here she comes now. She should probably check with her own doctor in another month, just to make sure everything is in order." He nodded to Giles and retreated down the hall.

Giles watched Joyce walk towards him, her head down. He looked at her lithe form, so much like Buffy’s, yet so different also. Pregnant? he thought, bewildered. It couldn’t be.....could it? As she stopped before him she looked up at him, a blush spreading over her cheeks.

"I...I assume they told you....?"

Giles nodded.

"I had to tell them you were my husband. Well, I didn’t have to tell them. But it seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the time. I just didn’t want any rumors spreading.... The gallery and all...." she babbled, her voice trailing off after a few moments.

He had to know. "Ah, Joyce...is it....are you...I mean, how......"

"Yes. I’m sure. And yes, it happened when, well.....during that incident with the candy.... I mean, there hasn’t been any other opportunity." She bowed her head once more. "Unless you wanna own it up to a Hellmouth fluke." Her gaze shot up, dark and worried. "You don’t think it could be that, do you, Mr. Giles?"

Giles shook his head. "Ah, no. I don’t think it’s an...errr....a ‘Hellmouth fluke’," he said.

He placed his hand upon her back, then snatched it back, not knowing if she would abhor his touch or not. As she leaned her head against his shoulder, he muffled a sigh of relief and rubbed her back lightly. "Well," he began after a long moment. "I think we should probably, probably go."

She nodded as they walked out the doors, relieved to see his car was still in place. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Giles made up his mind in a split second; a spontaneity he hadn’t known since his "Ripper" days. "You’ll see," was all he told her. *It’s going to be a very long day* he thought.

* * *

It was 5:00 in the morning and still dark out. The gang stood outside Giles’ apartment door. Willow looked at the dissatisfied faces around her.

"What?" she asked. "I can’t help this. I just have an icky feeling about Buffy being in L.A. And, and she didn’t say I couldn’t tell Giles. Just that I couldn’t tell him right away."

"Don’tcha think it could have waited an hour or two longer, Will?" Xander asked, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. He mumbled to himself as Willow shot him her determined look.

"I’m with Willow," Oz said.

"Big surprise there," Xander grumbled.

"...and if she thinks that there’s a reason to worry about Buffy, then I’m all for being here," Oz continued, ignoring Xander’s comment.

"Something tells me you didn’t have a phone ringing in your ear at four this morning telling you to be ready to go in fifteen minutes...." Xander mused to Oz. He shut up as Willow glared at him again.

"Do you really think Buffy’s in danger? It just surprises me that she would run off and not tell anyone," the tall, handsome blond fellow behind Xander said.

Willow flushed guiltily, remembering how she’d told Aidan that the only reason she knew Buffy’d gone was because she found a note in Buffy’s history books this morning. In truth, as she and Oz had lain in bed she just started to get a bad feeling about the whole situation. So she called Xander and then Aidan. She hoped Buffy wouldn’t get mad at her for including Aidan, but since he was her ‘technically labeled’ boyfriend, Willow felt he had a right to know. Also, she felt it’d be best to have him around to dissuade Buffy from any touchy feely with Angel.

"Oh yeah, that Buff. She’s just a wild woman when it comes to taking off. You’d think it was her life’s goal to travel the world on a whim. Or at least just to Los Angeles," Xander remarked.

"Xander...." Willow whispered warningly as she rang Giles’ doorbell.

The group stood in shock as Mrs. Summers opened the door. In only a man’s button down shirt.

"Mrs. Sum-Summers," Willow stammered.

"Oh. Hi Willow. Hi Xander. Hi Oz and you too, uhhh, Andr...Arth...Anth...I’m sorry, I forget your name."

Aidan smiled shyly. "It’s Aidan, Mrs. Summers."

She nodded absently. "That’s right. I’m sorry. Buffy’s always trying to get me to remember." She opened the door. "Won’t you come in? Rupert was just making some tea."

The gang exchanged a look and then headed inside. Giles was just walking out with two steaming mugs of tea as they came in. Willow could have sworn that he blushed right to his roots.

"Oh, ah, I see, we, uh, we have, uh, guests," Giles faltered. He hurried to set the hot cups down.

They stood in a circle around the room, the gang looking back and forth between Giles and Joyce.

"Did we come at a bad time?" Xander asked. He grunted as Willow elbowed him.

A bit too hard, in his opinion.

"We-" Joyce began.

"Joyce-" Giles started.

The gang looked at each other, quickly becoming even more uncomfortable.

Giles took a deep breath. "Joyce came here last night. She was quite upset, and informed me that Buffy has left town again. In her state I did not think it was prudent that she travel back home by herself. So she stayed the night here." He looked at Joyce to gauge her corroboration of the story. "I slept on the couch," he added as a misguided afterthought.

The gang nodded. Willow exhaled in relief. "I-we just stopped by to tell you that Buffy’s gone. But since you already know that we can go now." Willow started backing up slowly. The guys took her lead. They practically ran out of the apartment.

Giles looked at Joyce. "Well, all things considered, I’d say that went well." He handed her a mug of still hot tea and they sat down on the couch in synchronized despondency.

"Think they’re going to L.A.?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Think they’ll get there before us?"

"Most likely."

She nodded. "Think they’ll tell Buffy?"

"No. I don’t think they really think anything is going on."

She nodded again.

"And even, even if they do..." he took off his glasses and wiped them carefully before replacing them. "I don’t think they could ever guess the truth."

Joyce looked down at her ring finger and the newly acquired wedding band.

"Probably not," she said after a moment.

They both stared forward at the fireplace and sipped their tea in silence.

"Please tell me that wasn’t about what I think it was about," Xander said as they climbed into Oz’s van.

"Don’t worry," Willow said, patting him on the head. "Think of it this way. It’ll only equate about one month in therapy. Which is good, considering the other forty years it’ll take for everything else in your life."

"Gee, thanks Will. You always have a way of making me see the bright side of things," he remarked sarcastically.

The four of them got settled inside, Willow up front and Aidan and Xander in the back.

"So Aidan, man," Xander continued. "Willow tells me you’ve been getting in with the Buffster. How long did it take you to discover her secret super hero style?"

Aidan smiled at him. "Oh, I always knew there was something special about Buffy. But it took her about a month before giving in and telling me."

"A month huh?" Xander sniffed. "Yeah...it wasn’t too long after she came to Sunnydale that I expertly pried her secrets from her. What would you say, Will? A week? A night?" Willow shot him "the look" and he shrugged. "Ok, so I got stuck in the crossfire and cried myself to sleep like a baby for months after it. So what?"

Aidan grinned but remained silent, opting to look out of the window as Oz drove towards the City of Angels. He listened idly as Willow and Xander reminisced over their adventures with Buffy. His body jerked though, as Oz slammed on the brakes.

"Oz, buddy, not enough coffee this morning dude? Or is this a residual effect of being a wolf-boy? I thought you were supposed to have better than average eyesight," Xander yelped.

"Shut up Xander!" Willow screeched. "I think we hit him!" Her eyes were wide and panicky as she climbed out the passenger door.

The group got out and hesitantly walked around the van, careful not to move into any oncoming traffic that might appear. There was nothing around except a broad expanse of highway.

"This is giving me a very bad ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ vibe," Willow said.

"I dunno," Xander countered. "The blond chick in that movie was pretty much a hottie."

She rolled her eyes at him as they continued walking.

"Ummmm...guys?" Oz said cautiously. Willow, Aidan and Xander spun around. "I think I found it," he said. "If you can call it an...it."

Even as the other three backtracked to the side of the road they noticed a form, staggering to stand up. Willow let out a little scream and hid behind Xander. "What the.... Bloody hell. You tore my pants, you bloody wanker," the form yelled drunkenly as it straightened.

"Oh, we gotta stop meeting like this," Xander said as he recognized the slurred British accent.

Willow ran to him. "Spike!" she cried out. "What are you doing?!?! It’s almost sunrise."

"I don’t care!" he said, trying to push Willow away. "What’s it matter, pet?

There’s nothing left to live my undead life for."

Xander joined Willow and helped her drag Spike to the van. "I’m gonna guess Drusilla," he said.

"Bitch," muttered Spike, unable to stand or walk on his own.

As they lifted him into the van, Oz drew the black drapes over the windows in the back of his van and then moved a bar near the front, and a black curtain fell, blocking the sunlight from the windshield. As soon as they got Spike settled in the back, he passed out. Xander quirked a brow at the black velvet furnishings.

"Band thing," Oz said.

They piled back into the van.

Chapter 6:

He slept. He dreamed.

Her long black hair was piled in silken ringlets atop her head, glinting in the moonlight. Soft strains of the orchestra wafted outside through the open French doors. Candle light spilled from brightly lit chandeliers. The ballroom was magnificent and his fare had dressed splendidly for the occasion. But his thoughts were not on feeding. As he stood in the shadows of a tall potted tree, the transient scent of jasmine encompassed him and he focused only on her.

Darla had not wanted to attend the party tonight. After leaving Venice swiftly last week, he had decided to come to London. Somehow, the woman child was here too. Darla was suspicious of his motives. Angelus didn’t care. She could bloody well play with her own toys. He was beginning to enjoy stalking the young beauty far too much. He smiled cruelly as he envisioned her imprisoned and at his mercy.

She turned and he inhaled, taken off guard once again at the pure hunger she unwittingly enticed in him. He had the vague thought that even if he drained her, it would never be enough. Her blood would set him on fire, and he would never be free of her. *Wanker. She’s no different than any of the others.

Now either play with your food or just go ahead and take advantage of the insipid ingenue.* She reached out and lifted a perfect red rose from the vase on the balcony. As she trailed the soft petals over the tender skin of her cheek and neck he felt his game face present itself. She walked to the stone railing and looked out over the river. A breeze blew around her, causing the sheer, thin silk of her midnight blue gown to mold itself to her frame. She had chosen, he noticed, to ignore the current style in exchange for a simple shiftlike dress that, in his opinion, was more delectable than any of the "fine ladies’" dresses inside. She laid the rose upon the top of the railing and turned, her silver gaze searching the shadows. As he stepped forth, he watched the candlelight flicker a reflection in her mesmerizing eyes. You’re a damned fool.

"You’re late," she murmured.

"And you’re early," he replied smoothly. "One might think you were eager to see me." His arm snaked around her waist from behind and drew her to him in a crushing embrace. He nudged her head to the side with his chin before lowering his lips to place a light caress on the nape of her neck. He raised his head scantly, letting his tongue trace the outline of her perfect shell ear before he whispered quietly, "It’s quite appalling for a woman to seem too desperate, my dear."

She moaned softly, letting her eyes drift slowly closed. "Really? I could have sworn you were already lurking in the shadows when I got here..."

A low rumble of laughter sounded in his chest. "Touché. Tell me, dearest, how it is you can detect me without ever seeing me."

"Call it a sixth sense," she replied.

His free hand rose to clasp her neck gently from the front. *How easy it would be to snap* he thought. *She is so fragile, so small, so trusting. She wouldn’t even be able to scream before she was a heap at my feet.* He smiled as he pressed his lips to the hollow of her collarbone.

"My Angel," she whispered.

His arm tightened violently around her, hating the name. Hating the way it sounded so sweet upon her lips. He let her go and turned her around. Then he drew her close, ready to lead her in a very taboo version of the waltz playing. As they moved, their bodies pressed closely together, she tilted her head back and a tinkling peal of laughter was emitted from those supple red lips. Her arms wound around him and she rested her head against the place above his undead heart. He flinched and lowered her in a sweeping dip, his cold, dark eyes raking over her body.

"I’m nobody’s angel, luv," he told her coldly. "Least of all yours. If I were you, I’d watch myself. You never know what a man like I could do to an innocent such as yourself." He lowered her to the ground, pining her arms down above her head. As he knelt down beside her, his free hand roamed over her body, emphasizing his words.

She smiled up at him angelically. "Oh you’re my Angel, Angelus. You can’t escape that no matter what you do." Her eyes flashed silver in the darkness. "And I’d be careful of who I labeled ‘innocent’. Never underestimate a foe, dearest."

"And are you my foe, dearest?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

"Never, my Angel," she replied. "Then again, with friends like me, who needs enemies?" she asked sweetly.

He looked down at her for a moment before gripping her jaw tightly and kissing her. His mouth was brutal upon hers, hard and punishing. He stood swiftly, leaving her on the cold stone floor. "Be careful when you’re tempting Fate, dearest. You might just find yourself in over you head." With that he walked back into the ballroom, opting to leave without Darla and search for his dinner elsewhere.

She leaned back on her elbows, watching the moon shine down brightly on the glimmering water. "Oh I do believe it’s you who can’t possibly imagine what Fate has in store for you, my Angel," she murmured. She looked around and felt a giddy laugh bubbling inside her. "And why is it," she wondered aloud, "that whenever you’re around, I always end up on my back?"

He was awake with a jolt. He listened carefully for a moment, trying to figure out where he was. He relaxed as he heard Buffy’s soft, even breathing coming from the bedroom. His heart tightened as he thought of her. So valiant. So strong. So heartbreakingly beautiful. He ached to join her, and his body rebelled at the futility of his desires. He raked his hands through his hair and flopped back down upon his makeshift bed. As he thought of the two women in the next room, he was overcome by a hunger so powerful it caused him intense physical pain. He knew it had something to do with her. He had not experienced such desires since Angelus had met her two centuries before. Nor had he felt such since. Angel fought back the blinding hunger with a growl. He used all of his remaining strength to conjure pictures that would ease the blood craving fire within him. He closed his eyes, but did not sleep. This time he was not plagued with memories of the dark haired beauty, but of the pain and anguish he’d caused Buffy.

*****

It was still early morning when the Scooby gang pulled up outside of Cordelia’s apartment. Since it was daylight, they’d opted to visit a human instead of a vampire.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Oz asked as he parked the van.

"Well, it’s the address she gave me before she left," Xander said. "Of course, knowing how she feels about me, it’s probably Ishmael, the Swedish cook who makes sausages out of human flesh."

Oz looked blankly at him.

"What? Oh don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Ishmael...." he continued to speak as they unloaded themselves.

"What should we do about him?" Aidan queried, mindless of Xander’s babbling.

"Oh. Just leave him there. He should be fine until we make sure Cordelia’s okay with him being here," Willow told him.

They trekked upstairs and knocked on the door. A minute later they heard a crash followed by an unmistakable shriek.

"Oh it’s Cordy alright," Xander muttered.

Cordelia opened the door and looked grumpily out at the group. "What?" she said. "What can be so important that you would interrupt my beauty sleep? Don’t you know a girl’s got to get at least eight hours a night? Of course you don’t. Why do losers need beauty sleep?" She spoke, of course, only to Xander. "Come in already," she said impatiently as she opened the door wider. As the four walked in she noticed the rest of them. "Hi Oz. Hello Willow." Her gaze slid over Aidan as and she hurriedly combed her hair back with her fingers. "Good morning, salty goodness." She smiled at him.

"That’d be Buffy’s salty goodness," Xander intoned.

"Buffy? Where?"

Xander rolled his eyes.

"Uhh, Cordelia. Would it be all right if, well, if..." she nodded purposefully at the van parked below and gave Xander and Oz a look.

"If what?"

Seeing that the guys were making no move to ask, she continued. "Well, if, uh, ifSpikecouldcomein."

"Come again?" Cordy asked, arching a brow. "I could have almost sworn you asked me if Spike could come in."

Xander understood this to mean "ok" and motioned for Aidan to help him. They went back down to the van. Seeing nothing else laying around, Xander tore down the black curtain and wrapped Spike in it. They dragged him out of the van and hoisted him up, placing his arms around their shoulders. They ran quickly up the flight of stairs to Cordy’s apartment and through the door. Unfortunately, Spike bounced off of the invisible shield between outside and inside and landed with an "Umf". Willow looked at Spike, alarmed as he started to smoke.

"Omigosh! He’s burning!" she shouted.

"Oh all right," Cordelia said reluctantly. "Come on in, Spike."

The boys pulled him in and looked around for a safe place. She motioned across the spacious living room to her bedroom. "It’s fairly dark in there. Just don’t drop him. I just had my carpets cleaned. And he looks pretty raunchy. Don’t put him in my bed."

Xander started mumbling again as they set Spike on the floor and covered him more fully with the thick black cloth. He took a look around the bedroom and had to admit that Cordy had done well for herself so far. As they walked back out, he heard Willow telling Cordelia about Buffy skipping town again.

"Problems much?" Cordelia asked when Willow was finished. "I’m waiting for the day Buffy goes Psycho on us. It’s inevitable."

"I think she’s just worried about Angel," Willow said.

"Well no wonder. I mean, she’s the one who caused him to lose his soul the first time. If she hadn’t been all horizontal mambo-y with him - What?!?!" she asked as Xander looked at her disgustedly.

Aidan looked around the group. "What? So she was involved with him. It’s ok. I can handle it. But she’s with me now," he sent Xander a conspiratorial grin and Xander returned it with a half-hearted thumbs up.

"Yeah well, I don’t see her around, do you?" Cordelia asked Aidan. He

flushed and she shrugged. "If I were you, I’d find those two as soon as the

sun sets. I mean, I’ve gotten to know Angel, and he’s not a bad guy. For a

vamp. But how long do you think Buffy can control herself with him around? I

mean, I wouldn’t put it past her to -"

"Shut up, Cordelia," Xander said.

"Always have to rescue her, don’t you Xander? Did it ever cross your mind that she probably doesn’t need or want your help? Come on. What exactly can a fourth rate loser like you offer her anyway?"

Xander reigned in his anger only long enough to shoot her icy glare. "I don’t know, Cordy. But you sure seemed to enjoy whatever it was." With that he stalked out of the apartment. Oz, Willow and Aidan exchanged uncomfortable glances. Cordy slumped against the wall.

"It’s only 8," she said tiredly. "I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going back to bed now. Feel free to drop here." Apparently forgetting about the unconscious vampire in her room, she made the trek and shut the door behind her.

"I’m gonna go see about Xander," Oz said.

Willow nodded to him gratefully. "I guess we can camp out here on the couches." She suddenly looked worriedly at Oz. "Or-or do you think we should all go back to the van? You know, show of solidarity and all...."

Oz shook his head. "Nah. I’m gonna see if I can convince him to come back up. Besides, it’s roomier here."

She smiled and shut the door after him. She looked ruefully at Aidan.

"Welcome to my world."

They laughed slightly and slumped down on the furniture, falling asleep immediately.

Chapter 7:

The sun was just beginning to set when Angel woke again from a deep and dreamless sleep. He stood up and walked to his bedroom. With a worried frown he noticed that Kiara was nowhere in sight. But his attention was caught by the petite blonde snuggled in the middle of his bed. A sudden urge of longing flowed through him. It was a sight he wanted to see everyday for the rest of his miserable unlife.

But he knew that was impossible.

He walked to the edge of the bed and looked down on her. She was so peaceful in sleep. He remembered what it was like to wake up next to her warm, sleeping body. What it was like to enfold her in his arms and hold her until he had to let her go. He traced his fingertips over her smooth cheek and was happily amazed that she still responded to his touch.

As she leaned into his caress, he sat down lightly on the bed. She smiled and murmured in her sleep, and his face grew dark as he remembered a time when he, as Angelus, had climbed into her room to watch her sleeping. Angel gently brushed back a few errant strands of her golden hair. He let them slide through his grasp, savoring the silken feel against his skin. He was touched by the enormity of his simple actions. She was here. And he didn’t know if he was strong enough to let her go again.

Yet deep within his undead heart, he knew he would. It was, afterall, the best for her.

She opened her sparkling green eyes, a smile still playing over her lips from her slumber. It was obvious she didn’t know where she was, or that she thought she was still dreaming. She reached out a hand and cupped his face.

"Angel," she whispered happily, groggily.

"Mmmmm. I’m here." He gazed down at her, so innocent, so young, and yet so strong. He hated himself for everything he’d put her through.

"I know," she sighed. "I’m dreaming aren’t I?" The firmer tone of her voice belied her statement.

"Yes, my love, you are." He knew it was a stupid thing to say even as the words spilled from his lips.

She opened her eyes just a bit. "Then, as long as it’s only a dream...." She caressed his face, bringing her hand to the back of his neck. He didn’t argue as she pulled him down to her. She trailed her fingertips over his masculine features, as if memorizing each and every one of them. He braced himself, propping himself up on the bed as he leaned over her, hands on either side of her head. She ran her hands down his chest and around his back. She tugged on him and he could no longer deny himself. He lowered himself to her, his lips brushing across hers tentatively. She arched beneath him, one hand straying to bury itself in his hair. He deepened the kiss, his cold lips molding themselves to her warm ones. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if she had the power to thaw his ice cold body. Her tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of his lower lip. He flinched at her touch and opened his mouth, letting his tongue dance with hers. The kiss was passionate, but slow. He threaded his fingers through her tussled hair as his other hand met with the hot flesh at the indentation of her waist. She moaned softly and tightened her hold on him. He felt a trickling wetness slip down his wrist and lose itself in the softness of her hair. He slowly pulled back and looked down upon her perfect features. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, her lashes dark and spiky with tears.

She was crying.

"It’s not a dream, is it?" she whispered softly.

He gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. "No, it’s not," he answered quietly.

Buffy closed her eyes and a few more tears squeezed out from between her lashes. She rolled onto her side and ducked under his arm. She climbed out of the bed, keeping her back to him. He heard her take a deep breath as she combed her fingers through her hair. She pulled down the gray tank top and her hands flitted over the drawstring of her pajama pants. He remained seated on the bed, watching her as she walked to her bags and picked out clean clothes. She entered his bathroom and shut the door with a soft click. Moments later, he heard the shower running.

Angel ran his hands over his hair and cursed himself. He stood up slowly, feeling entirely too old for the charade. He walked to the kitchen and withdrew a container of blood from his refrigerator. He grimaced at the thick, cold plasma, but it took the edge off of his hunger. He wondered for a moment where Kiara was, but pushed the thought from his mind, too focused on Buffy.

Angel was lost in his thoughts, and settled against his kitchen counter, when Buffy walked in. He almost smiled when he saw her, but held it back as he noticed the look in her eyes. She was dressed in a short black leather skirt, a lacy-edged aqua camisole and her black leather boots. It reminded him much of the way she used to be, so cocky yet open. Not troubled by the grief and chaos he would later bring to her life. She slid into her jacket and looked at him expectantly. His jacket.

"Where are we hunting tonight?" she asked.

"Actually, we’re not. There’s been minimal action around here lately."

"Something up?"

"I don’t think so. And if there is, it’s not something they’re plotting. More like something they’re afraid of," he told her, taking a moment to consider the still strange actions of his fellow species.

"Something to look into."

"Maybe."

"But....?"

"But tonight I thought I might stop into a bar where some of my contacts can usually be found."

"So you were planning on investigating anyway?" she asked.

"What can I say?" he murmured with a small smile. "I’m not totally lax on my slaying duties."

"And I am?"

"That’s not what I meant." He looked at her, trying to figure out just what was causing the rift between them.

"I know," her voice was soft as she bowed her head. She stood ten feet away from him, but it felt like miles to Angel.

After what seemed like eons, he heard her speak. She looked up, her eyes dark and tormented. "I can’t do this. I can’t be around you. I thought I’d moved on. I thought I was over you, but...." her voice trailed off.

"But what?" he asked. He ached to go to her, to pick her up in his arms and tell her everything would be fine.

Her voice cracked as she continued. "I’ll never stop loving you." She looked into his eyes, willing him to understand. Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. She could barely breath and tears rose unbidden to her eyes. "Out of sight, out of mind doesn’t exactly work," she laughed, though it sounded weak and wobbly even to her.

"I know," he whispered.

"I’m seeing someone else now, Angel. And he’s really nice. He knows about me. He cares about me. And he...he’s-" she broke off, mortified at what she was about to say.

"Human?" he asked, his eyes betraying hurt, but also conveying his acceptance of the inevitable.

She nodded. "I can’t have you, Angel. And I can’t look at you without....without everything coming back. I can’t see you and not love you," she finished almost desperately.

He took a step forward, but stopped as she backed away. He ran his hands through his hair. He looked back to her, a small desperation shining in his dark eyes. "Does he make you happy? Are you happy?"

Her eyes widened slightly, but betrayed her inner turmoil. She took a deep breath and swallowed. Her throat constricted as she forced the words out. "Yes. I’m....I’m happy." A tear coursed its way down her cheek.

He smiled almost bitterly. He stepped back again and gripped the edge of his counter in his hands. He felt as if he was spinning out of control, yet her words also soothed him. "I’m glad. If you’re happy, I’m..." he laughed before continuing the statement. "No, I guess it doesn’t really work that way. But your happiness means the most to me. As long as you’re happy, I can continue to do what I do."

She shot him a questioning look.

"Survive," he said.

She nodded sadly. "Well," she said, taking a deep breath. "I guess we should be going."

He picked up his own jacket and opened the door. "After you, my lady."

They walked out into the night.

*****

The Scooby Gang walked into The Inferno. It’s dark lighting and hot ambiance mixed well with the tribal beat of the band on-stage. Oz took Willow’s hand and led her to the dance floor immediately, accidentally knocking Cordy out of the way.

"Impatient much?" Cordelia asked.

"They’ve been getting rather hot and heavy recently," Xander explained to her. They hadn’t really patched things up from earlier, but they were on speaking terms.

"So you think if Buffy’s with this Angel guy, this is the place they’ll come?" Aidan asked her.

"Yeah. We were here the other night. Be glad you weren’t. This one skanky ho decided - HEY!" she stopped and pointed to a girl on the dance floor. "There’s the slut right now. I swear. You’d think people’d have more decency around here. After the show she put on, I’d think she wouldn’t show her face here ever again."

Xander perked up. "Show?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "God. Aren’t you ever on anything BUT Hormonal Overdrive?"

Xander shrugged and looked towards the dance floor, but he couldn’t tell to whom Cordy was referring. As they made their way to the bar, Xander noted Spike’s unease. His eyes were practically rolling back in his head. Xander got the distinct impression that Spike would have loved to bolt from the club, but he stood his ground and moved with them to a table on the balcony.

Xander also observed Aidan, noting that the older guy was watching the door

intently. Poor sap he thought. *Doesn’t have a chance around Angel. I

should know.*

As if on cue, Buffy and Angel walked into the club. The hauntingly melodic sound of a tolling bell came from the stereo system. Xander couldn’t quite keep himself from drooling over the sight of her, but then his attention was drawn to the tall man standing next to her. "That’s Angel," he told Aidan, nodding towards the doorway. Aidan didn’t reply, merely smiled.

Buffy looked around and spotted the group on the upper level. She tugged on Angel’s hand, but he was staring onto the dance floor as if he were seeking something extremely important. After a moment he turned and walked up with her.

She smiled as she saw Xander and Cordy. "Xander? What are you doing here?" However, her face lost her smile when she spotted Spike. Then Aidan. "Woah. What are you doing here?" It was unclear as to which one she meant.

"We’re on a recon mission," Xander told her. He could see that Buffy was none too pleased that Spike and/or Aidan were here. She seemed to be enthralled, however, at Spike’s condition.

"Is he gonna be OK? And what do you mean ‘recon’?"

"We’re here to bring you back, dear," Aidan said as he stood up and wrapped his arms around her. "I was worried about you," he whispered as he lowered his lips to hers.

Buffy drew back with a wary smile, barely containing a shudder at his kiss. What am I doing? she thought. *This is my boyfriend. I’m supposed to crave his smoochies. Why am I not loving this? Angel.* Yet she knew it wasn’t his fault. It was her own. "I told Willow where I’d be if anyone needed me."

Aidan looked at her disapprovingly. "A note hidden in a text book can hardly be called ‘telling’, love."

"A wha-?" She noticed Xander’s manic hand motions. "Oh. Yeah. Well. I, uh, I didn’t wanna wake her. She was so tired from the night before. And, uh, you know Will. Always a bookworm. I figured it’d take her no time to find it. You know - most logical place to put it if you want Willow to find it."

Aidan looked at her suspiciously, but then smiled. "Yeah. I suppose.

Besides, she did find it, didn’t she?"

Buffy nodded weakly. "Oh, um, Aidan this is Angel," she motioned to Angel.

"Angel, this is my boyfriend, Aidan."

"A pleasure," Angel murmured with concealed dislike as he extended his hand to shake.

"Likewise," Aidan replied slyly.

Spike stood up, bumping the table. He looked extremely sick. "I’ve got to get out of here," he mumbled, dashing out of the club.

"What’s his sitch?" Buffy asked, looking after him.

"I think his hangover finally caught up to him." Xander told her.

Buffy quirked a brow and looked at him.

"Drusilla," he said in explanation.

"Ahhhh." She smiled slightly in the ensuing uncomfortable silence. She pretended she didn’t feel Angel’s hand in the small of her back.

"Wanna dance?" Aidan asked her. She jumped at the opportunity to escape and he led her downstairs.

Cordelia and Xander noticed Angel’s glower. "Jealous?" Xander asked, somewhat gleefully.

Angel glared at him. "I don’t trust him."

"Would that be because he isn’t a bloodsucking Hellbeast?"

"Cool it Xander. Can’t you grow up for one nanosecond. If Angel says he doesn’t trust him, maybe we should look into him."

Xander looked at her disbelievingly. "What? You’re on his side?"

"Well I’m certainly not on yours. Besides, Angel’s saved my life plenty of times. I trust him."

Xander threw his hands up in disgust and stormed off.

"I have to say this isn’t a very Brady reunion," Cordy said as she and Angel were left all alone.

However, his attention was on the slim girl on the edge of the dance floor. She looked up at him and for a brief instant dark eyes met light. Then she vanished in the shadows.

"Earth to Angel," Cordy sang out.

"What?" Angel asked, dazed.

She threw him a disgusted look, similar to Xander’s, and looked down at the floor. Angel followed her gaze to where Buffy and Aidan were dancing close together. Cordelia picked up his hand. "Come on. We’re going dancing." He followed as she walked down the steps. He couldn’t help but admire the poise with which she moved. She sidled up next to the cozy couple and he noticed Willow and Oz were on the other side. With a meaningful glance to Buffy, she wrapped her arms around Angel’s neck and drew him close.

Buffy’s grip on Aidan tightened as she watched Cordelia lead Angel into a particularly close dance. Her eyes flashed and she tried hard to restrain herself from jumping the tall girl. She looked up at Angel. He was bent down to listen to something Cordelia was whispering to him. He threw his head back and laughed. Buffy had never really seen him that carefree. She turned her jealous gaze from the pair and lost herself in the music.

"Just pretend you don’t notice them," Cordelia was whispering. She looked out of the corner of her eyes. Indeed they had a captive audience. "Now laugh," she told him.

Angel looked down at her. "Excuse me?"

"You want her to want you, don’t you?"

"I just want her to be happy."

"Yeah. Ok. Now try telling that to someone who can’t see the look in your eyes. Now laugh. Or I’ll step all over your feet." She gazed at Xander. "And believe me, I learned from the best," she muttered.

Angel automatically threw his head back and began to laugh, a rich baritone sound. He knew far too well what Cordelia’s stiletto heels could do.

The dance ended and the couples split apart. The group moved to the side in order to resume their conversations. A slow ballad began and Angel looked at Buffy. Her face was downcast and she wasn’t paying attention. He saw Willow ask her something, but she didn’t even hear her. He moved to her side.

"Dance with me." It wasn’t so much a question as it was a command.

Before she even knew what was happening, she’d placed her hand in his and they were moving back out onto the dance floor. It was pretty vacant, as most patrons wanted to dance to the fast songs. Cordelia smirked as she watched the two. Aidan watched on, no appearance of happiness or anger marring his handsome face. The talk between the members died out as they watched the two dance.

Without any guidance but instinct, Buffy slipped her arms around Angel’s waist and pulled herself close to him. His hands were cool through the thin material of her camisole. He slid them slowly, up and down her back, in a soothing manner. She rested her head on his chest as their bodies moved flush together in a rhythm that was older than time. He bowed his head, her sweet scent intoxicating him.

For Buffy, the world seemed to disappear within the circle of his arms. She never wanted the moment to end. She wanted to spend eternity in his embrace.

Angel rested his forehead against the top of her head. He didn’t care who was watching them. He listened to the music, to her breathing, to her heartbeat. He wanted to hold her forever.

Lovers and friends are all that matter

You’ll never know how much you came to mean to me

Willow sighed sadly for her friend. This was not working out the way she’d planned. Buffy was supposed to be with Aidan. Of course, deep down she knew Buffy would never love anyone as she loved Angel. Soulmates. Yes, that term fit them beautifully. As long as Angel was around, Buffy wouldn’t have a chance of moving on with her life. She leaned back against Oz and felt his warm arms encompass her. She smiled to herself, then felt guilty. What right did she have to enjoy the safe, loving embrace of her boyfriend, when her best friend was out there being torn to shreds? She sighed again and hoped it would all work out right.

"This isn’t right," Buffy whispered against his chest. Her fingers were buried deep within the folds of his dark burgundy sweater.

"It feels right," he murmured softly into her hair.

"Because you and I....." she sighed. "What I want from you, you can’t give me."

He stiffened at her words. "You’re right."

They continued to dance in silence.

They lingered as the music faded. He was the one to back away. He touched her cheek lightly. "I’ll always love you, Buffy." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd that was already gathering for the next dance.

She stood in the shadows and watched as Spike clutched at his head, trying to cease the endless pounding. As she sauntered up behind him, she felt only a twinge of guilt as he doubled over from the pain, the closer she got to him. She laid a hand on his shoulder and felt his body go rigid at her touch.

"Well, well, well. If it isn’t William the Bloody," Kiara drawled.

Spike looked up to her, his eyes wild with pain. "What are you?" he practically screeched.

Kiara took pity on him. For the moment. She knelt down beside him and rested her hands on either side of his face. She gazed deeply into his eyes, forging a tentative mindlink.

Immediately he sagged in relief, the pain becoming a hazy memory. When he looked up at her, he’d morphed into his game face and was ready to pounce on her.

"Now, now, Spike. Don’t forget what I can do to you." She twisted the link mentally and he growled at the sharp jab of pain. She backed off and stood up. As she turned around to face the club he ran his hands through his hair and stood shakily. His gaze roamed over the mysterious woman, and though she’d caused him much anguish he had to smile. She was small. She was only a child. She reminded him of a sane Dru. Of course, thinking of Dru sent him back to his melancholia.

Kiara turned around to face Spike. She looked up at him and it was the first good look at her he’d had. She could have taken his breath away, if he’d been breathing. She watched as his eyes roamed hungrily over her. "You’re pathetic, you know?" she told him.

"Excuse me?" he asked menacingly.

"Thinking of your poor lost Drusilla and then standing there looking ready to devour me. And I don’t mean that in the vampy sense of the word. It’s really sad. I mean, what’s that say about your eternal love?"

"What would you know about love, pet?"

"More than you could ever imagine," she whispered huskily.

His eyes darkened and he once again looked her over. Her skin looked so smooth, even beneath the glaring white light of the street lamp. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder like a black silk veil. He sucked in the useless air as he took a gander at what she was wearing. The silver silk shimmered as it clung to her body. He supposed this was what would be called a "slip dress", but he didn’t know if the piece qualified as a whole dress. The silver fabric was only about fifteen inches long, trimmed with about three inches of black scalloped lace at the top and the bottom. It barely covered anything, and his fingers itched to slide an errant slim strap back upon her shoulder. Or to run up that disgraceful slit on the front left side. In truth, he doubted there was anything under the thin piece of cloth. He took in the silver stars of her eyes, sparkling with amusement as she watched him watch her. But she pulled off the daring outfit and he had to admit she looked magnificent. Like a panther on the prowl he thought as he took in her sleek grace. The fact that she’d brought him to his knees only moments earlier had not escaped him.

"You should be fine, now," she told him.

"What?"

"You know. To go back in," she said, nodding to the crowded club.

"Oh. Right. Well, I’m sure they’re just awaiting my return with baited breath."

"Mmmmm. Well, feel free to stay outside. It’ll be sunrise soon. See ya." She turned with a smile and strode back into the shadows, disappearing down the street.

Spike watched her walk, the sway of her hips hypnotizing him. He heard her voice in his head. *Thinking of your poor lost Drusilla and then standing there looking ready to devour me.* He grinned. Maybe she was right. Dru was out of his life forever. She’d made that perfectly clear. "Time for the predator to become the prey," he murmured. With a cocky smile, he strolled back into the club.

Chapter 8:

It was Monday morning and Giles hadn’t heard anything from anybody. He’d planned on driving to L.A. shortly after Willow and the guys had left, but things with Joyce had escalated to a point where they’d had to sit down and talk everything over. He never wondered if their hasty marriage was right or wrong. There was a child involved, and Giles was both overjoyed and horrified. Actually, scared might have been a better word. He was afraid of Buffy’s reaction to the new situation. But he was also suffering major anxiety over whether or not he’d be a good father. He looked down at the slender woman nestled next to him in his bed and was overcome by a surge of protective feelings. They’d admitted to each other that they weren’t in love. At least, not yet. But there was no denying the spark between them. He was very attracted to her - had been even before the whole....incident.

He laid his hand on her stomach. She was only yet beginning to show, he realized. He was going to be a father.

A knock sounded on his apartment door and he struggled to disentangle himself from her grasp. He slipped on a blue terrycloth robe and answered the door.

Whistler nodded to him. "I’m Whistler," he said.

Giles moved to allow him entry and watched as the demon walked in. He had to admit, he looked fairly harmless. "Is there, uh, something I can do for you, errr, Mr. Whistler?"

"Just Whistler. And I was thinking that there’s something I could do for you."

Two hours later, Giles and Joyce were both dressed immaculately and seated on Giles’ couch. They’d listened as Whistler told them of the true prophecy. Giles comforted his new bride as she cried on his shoulder.

"So you’re telling me that no matter what, Angelus is back?" Giles had demanded.

"Yes. Most likely, he’s already turned."

"What in the Hell where you thinking, bringing that monster back?" Joyce yelled.

Whistler answered her honestly. "I was thinking that your daughter would be able to prevent him from getting out of hand...." Giles shot him a dark look. "But I may have overestimated the amount of control she has over herself. I knew she loved him. As I know that they are destined to be together. But, before this is settled, I’m afraid Angelus may be able to commit quite a bit of damage. Also...."

Giles stood up. "Also what?!?!"

Whistler had enough sense to at least sound meek. "Spike is with him."

"Oh jolly good. Why don’t we just bring Hitler back and invoke the bloody Trinity?" Giles asked sarcastically.

Whistler sighed. "I’m not sure what side Spike is playing for. Actually, Spike seems to have his own side where these things are concerned."

"So you’re saying that Buffy is in Los Angeles with two vampires and she’s probably unaware of what’s really going on?" Joyce asked, on the verge of hysteria.

"I’m saying," Whistler told her, "that Buffy is in L.A. and she is aware of danger. But," he shot Giles a look, "I think she may have a misconception about from whence that danger stems."

Giles wrapped his arms around Joyce and she looked up at him. "What does he mean? she asked him.

"I think he’s trying to say that Buffy isn’t in any danger from outside forces, but from herself."

Joyce pushed away from Giles and straightened to her full height. She stalked determinedly over to Whistler. "What exactly are you trying to tell me about my daughter, Mr. Whistler?"

"I telling you," Whistler said none too kindly, "that your daughter is in danger from herself. She only sees what she wants to believe. She trusts those she shouldn’t, and doesn’t trust those she should. And if she doesn’t wisen up soon, she might not live to regret it."

*****

Willow and Buffy sat outside in Angel’s courtyard. The sun shined down on them and the flowers bloomed vibrantly around them. Buffy inhaled and once again marveled at the life around her. It was a place she was sure Angel would never be able to enjoy fully.

"So what’s the verdict?" Willow asked her.

"Huh?"

"You still love him, don’t you?" her voice was soft.

"Of course I do. But...it doesn’t matter. We’re not together."

"That’s not how it seemed last night."

"Oh Will. Last night was just business. We were looking for some of his business contacts."

"C’mon Buffy. We all saw you two last night. It was almost as tragic as...as...as ‘Titanic’ or..or ‘Romeo and Juliet’," Willow said.

Buffy smiled slightly, her eyes on the stone pathway through the garden.

Willow’s gaze moved to the open French doors. She thought of the two unsuspecting vampires sleeping inside.

"Dammit, it’s not OK, Buffy. This is - is hurting you. Yes, we all wanted things to work out between Angel and you, but it didn’t. And you’re not moving on. You’ve got to get over this. I know you’re afraid to love. Afraid that you’ll get hurt again. But you have to get passed that if you really want to be happy again."

Buffy shivered as Willow’s words rang true. "Maybe you’re right."

Willow looked indignant. "Of course I’m right. I’m wisdom-gem girl. I’m always right."

Buffy laughed slightly. "I miss being happy. I miss being able to laugh at everything."

Willow was quiet when she answered. "You’ve got the chance right in front of you."

"Aidan?"

"He’s a good guy. And - and he really cares about you, Buffy. Would he be here if he didn’t? Hell, would he subject himself to Cordy if he didn’t?"

Buffy laughed louder. "You’ve got a point there."

Willow smiled. "See? What’d I tell ya? Wisdom-gem girl to the rescue."

Buffy laughed. "Seize the Fish."

*****

"So, where’d you head off to last night, Spike?" Xander asked, reclining on Cordy’s loveseat.

"What’s it to ya?"

"Come on, Junior. Tell," Xander nagged,

Spike smiled lewdly. "Maybe I got lucky."

"Oh? Is that what they’re callin’ a bite these days?"

"No, my dear boy. It’s what I’m calling the goddess I met last night. The likes of which you would never get your hands on."

"Oh? Is that so? And what about your precious Dru?"

Spike’s eyes narrowed and in a flash he’s toppled Xander to the ground, his long fingers squeezing the life out of his throat.

"Woah," Xander choked out. "Why does this always have to happen to me?"

Aidan strolled out of the bathroom just then. With one look at the situation, he picked up one of the lamps and smashed it over Spike’s head. Spike let Xander go and turned on Aidan. Pieces of the lamp were scattered at his feet.

Xander looked up. "Cordy’s not going to like that," he said, just before passing out.

Aidan looked at Spike. "C’mon man. I don’t want any trouble from you."

Spike growled menacingly and took a step towards Aidan. "Number one, I’m not your man. And number two, don’t you ever do anything like that again, unless," he nodded to Xander, "you want to end up worse than my amigo over there."

Aidan shrugged and walked past him. He knelt beside Xander to see if he was okay.

"Did anyone catch the number of that bus?" Xander asked as he came around.

"Hey. Shower’s yours," Aidan said, giving him a hand up.

"Thanks," Xander mumbled, thinking maybe Aidan wasn’t so bad afterall.

Aidan sat on the loveseat where Xander had been moments before. Spike settled back down across from him. They stared, measuring each other up.

Oz found them this way an hour later. "Woah," he said. "Major starage goin’ on, eh? I get the feeling we’re not just trying to see who can go the longest without blinking."

With one last, meaningful glance at Aidan, Spike turned to Oz. "Hey Oz. How are you this fine afternoon?"

"Ooooh. I’m excited. Can’t you tell?" He looked at Spike blankly.

"Careful, mate. You might rile the neighbors."

"Yeah," Oz said. "I get that a lot."

"So, what’s got you in such a tizzy?"

"Willow," Oz replied, a small smile threatening to shine through.

"Ahhhh. Red. Don’t blame ya, mate. She looks delicious."

Oz stared at him.

Spike grinned evilly. "In a purely non-bloodsucking way, of course."

"Mmmm." Oz moved to the kitchen to make a sandwich, letting the subject drop.

Xander walked out minutes later and spotted Oz. "Hey, Oz. Where’s Will?"

Oz took a bite of his lunch. "Mwf Bwffwy."

Xander nodded. "Cool. We still on for tonight?"

Oz nodded.

"Oh yeah!" Xander exclaimed. "I’m so ready for some red hot monkey love."

The three guys turned to stare at him as if he were crazy.

"What? Why do I always get that look when I say that?"

The guys mumbled to themselves and went back to what they were doing.

Chapter 9:

The dream was different this time...

He stood in the middle of the lavish boudoir and looked around, intrigued by her various possessions. The room itself was an anomaly to him. Not what he was used to. It was a large room, but gave off the appearance of an unearthly light. She’d decorated it in bright whites and ivorys, the furnishings were finely carved from polished mahogany. What held his attention most, however, was the massive ornate gilt mirror hung over her vanity. It, of course, did not reflect either of them. He hated the room. It was so humane. He looked over his shoulder and saw the girl resting on the plush white velvet cushions of her window seat. It amazed him that he’d been with the weak vampiress for five years. He could feel the steel core that ran through her, but she didn’t hunt, didn’t ravage, didn’t torture. *She could have been one of the greats* he thought wistfully. She disgusted him in her mortal facade. And it only enraged him more to know that she did not do it purposefully. She truly was as good and innocent as she seemed. Her purity burned him. But he could not leave her. She was his obsession. The passion that she inspired in him never ceased to amaze him. He’d never known such a hunger could be felt. She enticed him to a frenzied bloodlust, yet soothed him at the same time. Oddly enough, he never left her embrace wanting. Actually, when he left her presence he felt neither the need to feed nor to pillage. Not to say he didn’t still kill and revel in his cruelty, in his demon. It was his favorite past time. *Well, second favorite* he thought, looking at Kiara. It sickened him. She made him feel almost....human.

He despised her. He craved her. He ached to break her.

She turned, feeling his eyes upon her. Her smile was sure and quick to come.

He tossed the garment in his hands to her. "Put this on," he commanded.

She lifted the sheer fabric in her small hands and stood up. There was a quiet curiosity in her gaze as she walked behind the silk screen in the corner. Angelus had ordered her to put a standing candelabra behind the screen and he was now rewarded for his idea.

He leaned against her armoire and watched the lines of her lithe body as she slipped out of her clothes and into his creation. As she moved from behind the shade he pushed off of the armoire and strode towards her. He held her at arms length and looked her over. It startled him every time he saw her that her complexion was not pale as was the norm. Her tanned skin shadowed itself beneath the filmy white gauze of the gown. It hid nothing and accentuated everything. He smiled slightly as he noticed the fabric was pulled almost tautly over the gentle swell of her breasts.

He rubbed his cold hands over the smooth skin of her shoulders, cupping them behind her neck. His gazed roamed over her, enjoying the sight of the thin fabric clinging to her long, slender legs. He slowly slid one hand from behind her neck, down between her full breasts, over the firm muscles of her stomach, to lightly caress the shadowy ‘V’ at the juncture of her thighs. She sighed and arched into him. Angelus grinned maliciously as he withdrew his hands. Her eyes flew open in shock and then she smiled.

"Oh my Angel," she sighed.

He’d gotten used to the name, but it still unsettled him. He nodded towards the large canopy bed which sat on a raised dais in the middle of the room. "Over there," he ordered her.

She climbed onto the luxurious bed, settling into the soft nest of white bedclothes and down pillows. He watched her critically before pulling up a tall wingbacked chair and sitting down at the foot of the bed. Her side was to him, but her knees were slightly raised and her arms wrapped loosely around them, forming a pillow for her head as she turned to watch him. He silky black hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back and curled around the folds in the sheets. He pulled out his sketch book and a sharpened stick of charcoal. His fingers flew as he began to draw her.

They’d done this many times before. Her eyes were dancing with laughter as she watched him. "Oh my Angel. What am I going to do with you?"

He was intent upon sketching the soft lines and curves of her body, but he felt his hard lips curve into a half smile. "Dunno, luv. I’m sure you can think of something to do with me....for me...to me.....after I’m finished with this."

She was the epitome of a woman-child. She was innocence and sexual awareness, love and desire. It proved to be a juxtaposition he could not ignore. And so he sketched her body at every chance. Yet it wasn’t the physical beauty he was after. It was her essence; through his drawings he sought to find out what it was about her that enchanted him so.

He painstakingly drew her. But it was the eyes that completed the picture. They were different this time. He didn’t know how he captured it, but the eyes shone out of the picture with all the love, grace, empathy and desire she held inside. He wanted to rip it to shreds. He stood up and placed it on her vanity table, watching as for once she was reflected in the giant mirror on her wall. She smiled at him as he walked towards her. He reminded her of a caged lion, dangerous and waiting to break free. He stepped up on the dais and rested one knee against the edge of the bed as he leaned over her. He braced himself with one hand on the bed, letting the other trail up her leg and along the outside of her thigh. He smiled as her eyes darkened to a steely gray.

Angelus lifted his hand and placed it on her shoulder, pushing her back onto the bed while he smoothed out the sheets and blankets, making her as comfortable as possible. He loomed over her and slid his leg over both of hers, effectively pinning her to the bed. He cocked his head as he looked down at her; he could smell how aroused she was. As it mixed with that ever-present scent of jasmine, he growled, feeling the dull pain of hunger stirring within him. Her hand reached up to draw him down for a kiss. Angelus teased her, nipping at her bottom lip, his tongue dipping elusively between her parted lips. He heard her moan deep within her throat and he submitted to her waiting mouth. Their tongues sparred with each other and he lost himself in her taste. She was sweet and soft, willing and yearning to please.

His fingers entwined with hers as he pinned her hands above her head. He moved over her, unconsciously rubbing his growing erection against her. She raised her hips, seeking greater contact. As she writhed beneath him, he caught his senses and leaned back. The look in his eyes was wicked as he removed one of his hands and lightly touched her cheek. He slipped his knee between her legs and parted her thighs with tantalizing slowness. She gasped as she felt his finger slide over her through the thin, silky material. He taunted her with light caresses here and there, his hand tickling the insides of her thighs. Her silver eyes were pleading with him.

"Beg me," he commanded softly.

Her soft red lips parted and her eyes sparked with fire. He loved antagonizing her. "Never," she hissed.

He smiled flippantly and lazily zigzagged a path over her cleft, teasing the sensitive flesh. He could feel the wetness seeping out between her legs. "Mmmmm. Your choice," he murmured.

Her hips arched upwards in a vain attempt. "Uh-uh-uh," he told her, pushing her back down. "No cheating, dearest."

Her eyes were hazy with need. "Please," she whispered.

"Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?" He slipped his fingertip inside her and rubbed her core of sensitivity, smiling at her hoarse gasp. Gathering the excess fabric, he slipped two fingers inside her hot, wet center. Despite her cold demeanor, she was burning inside. He moaned as he felt her struggling beneath him. "Be a good girl," he gritted out between clenched teeth, "or I might just stop altogether." She could tell he was bluffing, but she settled down anyway. As he began to stroke her she had to stop herself from whimpering. Every time he thrust into her, his fingers pulled the thin fabric, causing it to graze and rub her clit. The simultaneous stimulation quickly drove her over the edge and she tensed around his fingers. Noticing that she was almost there, he quickly withdrew his fingers and shoved the gown above her hips. Before she could even cry out at his absence, he’d replaced his fingers with his mouth. At the touch of his tongue she spasmed around him. Her fingers were buried in his hair, holding him as she rocked up against him. He licked her tangy-sweet juices from her and leaned up from between her legs, leering down at her.

She lifted her hand to his face. "My Angel, my Angel, my Angel, my Angel...." she softly chanted over and over as she traced his features possessively. He didn’t mind it this time.

He climbed over her and lowered his body to hers. His lips caught hers in an unexpectedly sweet kiss that she had no choice but to surrender to. As he pulled away from her, his hands slipped between their bodies. He heard her gasp quietly as he tore the gown right down the middle and slid it from her body.

"Wha-?" She was cut off by another swift kiss. This was designed to catch her off guard as he captured her hands and tied them firmly to the bedpost with the torn gown. She backed away slightly and looked at him, her hot eyes roaming over his body.

"I think you have far too many clothes on," she told him.

Angelus grinned at her and shrugged out of his coat. It was followed quickly by his white silk shirt. Her gaze practically scalded him. He slowly unbuttoned his black trousers and slid them down over his hips. Her eyes widened appreciatively as his arousal sprang free. He kicked his pants off over his already bare feet and looked down at her. "Stop looking at me that way or we won’t be able to enjoy this," he growled at her. The bright smile on her face showed him that she knew he was only playing with her. "I do so love seeing you tied up and helpless," he told her. The hunger was screaming inside of him.

His fingertips trailed lightly over her breasts. He ran his palms over her erect nipples and she shivered under him. "Cold?" he whispered.

She laughed breathlessly. "Extremely hot," she corrected him.

Angelus chuckled, the sound foreign to his own ears, and cupped her breasts. He leaned down as she arched into his hands. He placed feather-light kisses at the base of her neck and trailed them down between the smooth, full mounds. His tongue traced circles around one of the hardened pebbles before drawing it into his mouth to suckle it. He teased the other nipple with the pad of his thumb before pinching and twisting it till the point of pleasure-pain. She moaned loudly and ran her foot up and over the back of his thigh, to hook her leg around his waist. Her hips rocked upwards, enjoying the feel as the length of his cock rubbed back and forth against her slit. Knowing that her fierce desire was only a shadow of his intense need, Angelus rose to kneel in front of her. His hands made a light path over her body, wrapping around her as he reached her waist and caressing the tight, silky cheeks of her ass. He held her thighs from behind and slowly parted them as he moved closer to her center.

His scorching gaze never left hers as he positioned himself to enter her. With a vicious smile he lifted her left leg over his shoulder and held the right one hooked over his hip. He slid the tip of his shaft inside her ever so slowly and held her down as she tried to move. Every inch he leaned forward, the more he slipped inside her tight, hot, slick confines, and the more he spread her open to him. "Tell me what you want," he told her.

Kiara tossed her head and her arms were taught against her bindings. Her eyes were like silver sparks as she looked up at him, passion burning in her gaze like a wildfire. "I....want you...to....."

"To...?" he provoked her.

"I want you to fuck me," she bit out harshly.

"Always ready to oblige," he said, and rammed into her violently. She screamed out and felt like she was being torn apart. He drew out slowly, letting her get used to the feel of him. However, she immediately bucked her hips under him, seeking the return of his thick, rigid cock. With a grin he slid into her and began to establish a slow, sensuous rhythm. Her head tilted back as they moved together. His long, slow strokes became harder as he eyed the sleek curve of her neck. Her eyes opened and they held each other’s gazes as they made love.

He could see everything she felt for him in those guileless eyes. So silver. They reminded Angelus of the large mirror, so big and glossy. And yet, here in her eyes, he could see his reflection. And he loathed himself. He thrust into her, savoring the feel of her wetness sliding over him and onto the bedding beneath them. He listened as the sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room. He smelled their combined scents. And he lost control. He ripped the tattered gauze from her wrists, needing to feel her hands upon his body. Immediately he could feel her grasping at his muscled back, her nails digging into his skin. As he pumped into her over and over, he let her leg slide down his arm and she wrapped both of her legs around his waist, allowing him deeper entry. He drove into her like a wild animal, no set rhythm though she followed his lead effortlessly. It was fast and hard. Angelus heard a deafening noise, and realized it was he who was growling so loudly. Without even looking at her, he knew his game face had presented itself. Her nails drew his blood and he could smell it. All of the muscles in his body tensed as he lowered her gently back down to the bed, never stopping. He could tell she was almost to the brink of this madness. Gazing into the blazing silver pools of her eyes, he leaned over her. He felt her begin to tense around him and reveled in the feeling of her velvet warmth spasming around him. With a snarl he buried himself in her tight channel. Her back arched up off of the bed, and as her muscles tightened around him he almost cried out at the sweet pain. Her black hair fanned out around her. She met him thrust for thrust as he felt his own orgasm rising within him.

"I love you, My Angel," she whispered.

Angelus roared and sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck. In his subconscious he was aware that she too had her fangs buried within his own neck, and that the cycle of blood passed between them was only heightening their climax. As she clenched around him one last time, he plunged into her - jarring both of their bodies, but breaking neither bond - and felt both his seed and his blood spill into her.

Hazily he realized that....

Angel woke with a yell and was surprised to find that he was covered in a cold sweat.

Both Buffy and Willow came running into the apartment from outside, worried looks upon their innocent faces. He was gasping for breath though he did not need it. From the way they were watching him, he was sure he was a mess. He could tell from the open doors that it was dusk. He looked around. "Where’s Kiara?" he asked sharply.

Buffy was taken aback by his behaviour. "I...she must still be sleeping."

He nodded, trying to gather his wits. The dream was still with him though, and he was shaken. He knew there was something he was supposed to remember, but he didn’t know what it was....

"The gang’s gonna be here in about an hour, if you wanna get cleaned up," Willow offered hesitantly.

Angel nodded to her. He tried to muster a kind smile for them, but found it was not in him. He stood up wearily and walked into his room. Again Kiara was not there. He did not understand, but he didn’t dwell on it. He picked out a suit and went to take a shower.

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