Track A in Track B

What was it about this Angelus?

Was it the way he treated her? Was it the way he looked at her, spoke to her? He was a mix of her Angel, loving, protective, caring, and the Angelus Buffy remembered, possessive, stalker-ish, controlling.

Buffy wasn’t sure, but knew that those and more drew her to him; it was strange, so not like the Angelus of her previous dealings. That Angelus wanted to destroy her any way possible, that Angelus wanted to torment her, kill her friends, and then her. She and Angel never talked about it, not after he returned from hell, not really, but Angel did allude to certain things.

Allude to but never clarify for her.

Things that Angelus certainly never let on and Buffy still wasn’t sure she believed. Angelus wanted her? Wanted to kill her, certainly, but…well, maybe. Now that she thought of it, from a distance of time but also from the perspective of this Angelus’ actions, Buffy thought that maybe…

“He wants you as much as I do,” Angel had told her shortly after the Christmas it snowed in Sunnydale. “He wanted to mold you into his ideal version.”

“Version of what?”

But Angel hadn’t elaborated, just shook his head and refused to say more on the subject.

Buffy hadn’t believed him, not then, and afterwards it didn’t seem important, as Angel was in LA and she…wasn’t. Looking at this Angelus, the one who hadn’t lived under the conscious of his soul for a hundred years, the one who didn’t resent all that that beautiful soul was, all that soul ‘made’ him feel, Buffy conceded the point.

Maybe he really did care; this Angelus seemed to accept her for who she was Slayer, strength, and all. He gave her a wedding ring, completed the Mating Ritual, treated her with kindness, love, possession, too, but he protected her, overprotected actually. He wanted her and she knew, Buffy knew, that he’d never leave her. Unlike Angel.

And, God, how she missed that, missed the safety she found in Angel’s arms, missed the feelings of contentment and home and she didn’t understand. How was it possible to feel those things in both the soul she loved, and the demon she was just beginning to know? Really, truly know, not what he wanted her to believe two years ago. She’d never felt this way before, with the Angelus who taunted her for months.

And she didn’t want to lose that; the comfort, safety, wanting, needing. Having. She didn’t know if she’d ever get home, if it was even possible that however she arrived here, she could reverse it and go back there. Willow and Giles were working on it, Buffy would bet anything on that, but was it even possible to return there? And what was there? She and Angel still couldn’t be together, his soul was still tenuously bound at best. And that Angelus…would that Angelus treat her as her Angel did? Or even as this Angelus did?

Yes, this Angelus reminded her so much of her Angel, the caresses, the whispered words of affection, the light in his eyes. The way he was, the way they were before Angelus, Acathla, Hell. Logically Buffy knew that he hunted at night, that in order to survive, he needed blood and that in order to have that blood he needed to drink from his victims. But did he need to kill? Angelus yes, he did, it was a part of who he was, Buffy understood that. Didn’t like it, but understood it.

Could he change enough for her to not drain his victims? Was it possible for him to do that? He was only gone a short time as it was, always less than an hour, and he never brought them home, never looked like he drank his victims, never smelled like blood and death.

Home. 

When did she start thinking about this place as home? She’d been here all of two weeks, had already slept with Angelus since she’d woken, didn’t have any idea how she got here, what was happening in her own world, in her time, with Angel who was doubtlessly going crazy wondering what happened to her, no idea how to return to that time, to the home there. And she was thinking that here, in this obviously stolen townhouse in a prestigious area of London, which housed three (formerly four) vicious killers, was home.

Sinking to the floor, the shock of her realization overwhelming, Buffy wondered if the tears that ran down her face were from homesickness or something else. Her bustled skirts crinkled under her and she knew she was wrinkling them, but she couldn’t seem to care. The last rays of sunlight shone through the open curtains and she huddled in those protective rays, her body shaking, her heart thumping wildly in her chest and her conscience berating her for things she’d allowed to happen.

What had she done?

All her principles, her duty, her beliefs, everything, thrown away in two short weeks and for what? The security Angelus’ arms promised? Did she trust him?

No. Yes. Buffy resisted the urge to scream at her indecisiveness and instead laughed to herself; she truly was losing it. She trusted him to an extent. She trusted him to be there, to want her, to obsess over her. She trusted him to continue on as he had been, killing innocents, draining them, not caring about them; mocking everything that she was, because that was what he was.

She didn’t trust him with her life and yet that was exactly what happened.

Somehow she’d become dependant on him, letting him dictate her actions, when she did and did not leave the house – and she had yet to leave the dwelling. She didn’t slay, though everything within her called out for her to do so. She didn’t protect those innocents from her lover, from this world’s Darla, William, and Drusilla. She’d taken everything that was thrown at her and completely changed, in two measly weeks.

That wasn’t who she was, Buffy thought as her tears dried.

That wasn’t how she was made, not what she did. She was the Slayer, she fought the good fight, and she had killed her lover because it was the right thing to do to save a world that hadn’t cared one damn bit that she’d ripped her heart out for an uncaring populace who would never understand or accept her or her lover. She did what she had to do, every time, because that was what was expected, required, demanded of her and from her.

She was Buffy. She was the Vampire Slayer. She may love a vampire, one of the most vicious to ever grace the earth, one of the most beautiful souls ever to exist, but that didn’t preclude her from doing her duty. It never had before – images of Faith’s bruised face flashed before her, but Buffy ignored it. What had she become?

Fourteen days and what happened to her? She’d told the demon that inhabited her beloved’s body his future, how to avoid that future. Now her beloved would never exist. Granted, Angel didn’t deserve that guilt, it wasn’t he who slaughtered for a hundred and fifty years, but he was the one to carry that guilt and responsibility.

Two weeks…

Standing, Buffy straightened her skirts, wiped the remnants of her tears away and took control of her life once more. She loved Angel; nothing would or could ever change that. She wanted Angelus, this Angelus, because he was everything her Angel once was, the Angel pre-hell. This Angelus was strong, determined, and yet he was also affectionate and almost loving. He protected her, wanted her, and wasn’t afraid to show her that.

Did she love him? A part, probably, it was hard, so hard, to separate the two, it always had been for Buffy. Loving him wouldn’t preclude her doing her duty. It never had before (with the obvious and single exception of being unable to kill the Angelus of her world and time until it was too late and she was forced to do so, sending her beloved Angel to Hell instead) and Buffy was determined it wouldn’t stop her now.

Fourteen days…

It was time to take her life back, this life back. Spinning on her heel, noting that the sun was now fully set, Buffy went to find some wood. Can’t have a good staking without the proper tools. Angelus wasn’t going to be happy. But then in the two weeks he’d known her, she hadn’t exactly been herself, either. Well, that was just too damn bad; he’d have to learn who she was and either accepted her for that, or not.

Buffy couldn’t be anything other than the Slayer, the Force between Darkness (Angelus) and Light (Buffy). And she wasn’t the submissive little girl who blindly listened to what her big strong demon wanted from her. The days and nights she spent in his arms might indicate that for now, but that wasn’t who she truly was.

She was strong, she was dominant, she was Slayer. And she was going to slay something tonight. A lot of some things if she could help it.

Forty-five minutes later, Buffy was ready for her first patrol of the area. There wasn’t anything she could do about her clothes, so the dress, minus the bustle and many of the under dresses – whatever those were called – it was. But she had three stakes, a general patrol plan of the immediate area, and she hadn’t met Angelus. That was what worried her the most. Usually he was awake the moment the sun set and ready to shower her with affection and attention.

No time to worry about that now, however.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A

Elizabeth woke from a deep sleep, climbing out of Giles’ spare bed and heading for the kitchen clothed in nothing more than a tank top and a pair of shorts.

It’d been slightly more than two weeks since she arrived and already she’d established a routine. Wake up, make breakfast for she and Giles, heat blood for Angel and Spike, and leave the clean up to the watcher. She trained with the two vampires, learning more about them and this world, and falling more and more in love with Angel as she did so. 

It’d taken her a while to realize that her feelings for the handsome vampire were more than unbelievable and nearly uncontrollable lust, but once she did, Elizabeth recognized it for what it was. And then she avoided Angel for a couple of days. She couldn’t admit that not only had she fallen in love with a vampire, but that she’d done so in a matter of weeks. It wasn’t like her, not at all; not even when she spent nearly every minute of every day with him. 

Spike had been the one to speak with her, asking her if she was alright; Angel was content to let her take some time to herself, though Elizabeth sensed that it was hurting him as much as it was her to be parted. Even as parted as a few feet. They were both so used to being in each other’s company for the entire day, that even minutes apart seemed strange. But Elizabeth needed time, she needed to understand how it had happened and why, and she needed to bury it; she couldn’t let Angel know that she loved him, not after everything he’d told her about himself, the curse, Buffy, everything. 

It was Tara who finally made Elizabeth understand her feelings. “We can’t help who we fall in love with,” she said after Elizabeth confessed her feelings to her blonde friend. 

Cordelia was waiting several feet away, not yet entirely comfortable with this Elizabeth and certainly in no hurry to see Angelus return when – she really felt it was inevitable – Angel and Elizabeth got all groiny together. She’d explained the months in Sunnydale when Angelus terrorized Buffy and friends, and watched as Elizabeth just nodded; obviously she’d already heard the story. 

“He doesn’t want that to happen again and it’s only a matter of time before you and he are back in bed together.” Cordelia paused, “Are in bed again, are in bed…forget it, you know what I mean.” But she looked earnest enough, and scared, and it was Cordelia scared that touched Elizabeth the most. 

“Any fool can see that he loves you, just as he loved Buffy, though I’m sure it’s different. He acts different around you, there’s something just…well, different in the way he is when you’re together. More open than I ever saw him with Buffy, though I wasn’t really paying attention before Angelus.” Cordelia didn’t say anything about how she tried to entice Angel away from the slayer and her several unsuccessful attempts at that. 

“I don’t want that, either,” Elizabeth said even as a small part of her mocked her words. She wanted Angel; she knew what his demon was like both from stories of her worlds’ history, and from Angel’s own lips. But she wanted him anyway. And she knew, somehow, that his demon wouldn’t hurt her; Angel wasn’t nearly as sure, and he often looked like he was having some kind of internal debate when he was watching her, but Elizabeth knew that the demon wanted her, at least; the soul loved, the demon wanted. 

If they were so in accord, then wouldn’t it just make sense that nothing bad would happen? That since soul and demon wanted the same thing, then Elizabeth would be safe with either and both of them? The world was fine, she knew, because neither Angel nor Angelus would destroy it while she was in it and willing. That was the one thing Angel hadn’t told her, but that she figured out for herself. 

Spike said something about Angelus losing it and trying to destroy the world; Elizabeth understood why that was. Buffy refused to return his affections, not understanding that they were such; Angelus went crazy and tried to capture her in Hell, where the only way she’d be safe was with him. It was actually a really smart plan, as apocalypses went. Still, Elizabeth didn’t want to destroy the world; it was her duty to save it, more, it was deeply imbedded in her very being. 

“I don’t want Angel to revert to his demon,” she said honestly to both Tara and a listening Cordelia. “I know he doesn’t want that, it’d kill him. But I love him,” she repeated, still in awe over the feelings. Still enjoying the way the words flowed from her lips. “And it’s going to kill me not to have him.” 

With a shrewd eyes focused on the woman she didn’t know but who knew her better than anyone here, Cordelia sighed and sat next to a friend she couldn’t remember having, and one she’d just met weeks ago. “You can’t have him, Elizabeth. If you do, then everything you’ve both worked for will be dust and the world, whether you believe it or not, will burn around you.” 

Tara took her hand, trying to comfort Elizabeth. “I’ll see if there’s a way around the curse,” she said. “Maybe there’s something Willow and Mr. Giles overlooked when they originally cursed Angel, that second time?” 

Cordelia snorted. “I doubt they even looked,” she said. When both blonde’s looked at her like she’d lost her mind, Cordelia cringed; she hadn’t exactly been pro-Buffy/Angel, either, and now, now that Angel was her friend…she still wasn’t. What kind of friend was that? 

“No one liked Buffy and Angel together and when he lost his soul, support wasn’t exactly the word of the day.” Shocked, both Tara and Elizabeth continued to stare at her, understandably incredulous. 

“Really?” Elizabeth demanded. “They let this happen? They let him go on with this,” her hands waved as she struggled with words to adequately describe her anger and astonishment. “This curse hanging over his head, when it was so precarious? They let him go on believing that too much contentment, too much fundamental happiness that is the basic right of every being could destroy everything he cared about?” 

Cordelia looked on in shock. It’d taken her months after that incident with Rebecca-I-want-to-be-a-vampire to realize that. And Elizabeth had only known Angel for a few weeks, the true story of him for probably less. So much for being such a great friend to him! Cordelia shook her head, and tried to explain Xander’s jealously, Willow’s need for Buffy to ‘move on’ and Giles’ hatred after Angel killed Jenny Calendar. 

Coming back to her task, Elizabeth began taking out pans and food for their breakfast. She was still unbelievably angry with Xadner and Willow for their callousness, and couldn’t believe that the Rupert Giles she knew would do something like that. But this was such a strange world as it was; very few things shocked her any longer. Her frown smoothed into a smile, however, as her mind focused again on Angel. 

Training with Angel and Spike was something she loved, something she excelled at, and the best reason either she or Angel had to be in each other’s company. Elizabeth didn’t care what these people thought, entirely too accustomed to doing her own thing to conform now. Angel had a harder time with that, with their censorship, but between she and Spike, Elizabeth found him willing to ignore the others and spend all his time with them. 

Something deep inside Elizabeth warmed at that.

So they trained while Giles looked through his books. He was still trying to find a way to send her back, bless his heart, but finding a Blue Ox was difficult, to say the least. Elizabeth didn’t help him, and refused to let Angel do so either, insisting that she wanted/needed help patrolling the town. She didn’t want to return to her world; her world didn’t have Angel. Plus, her not-so-little-problem wasn’t the only one the Hellmouth had; Giles often researched the latest bad, too.

Cordelia and Wesley arrived around noon with lunch from one of several decent restaurants in the area. Cordelia had grown to understand Elizabeth a little more, and Elizabeth had already accepted Cordelia. She still had a hard time understanding what the brunette cheerleader saw in Xander Harris, but agreed with the temporary insanity plea Cordelia offered one afternoon as she, Elizabeth, and Tara talked around the courtyard, the sun shinning brightly down on them. 

Wesley, Elizabeth didn’t know, but accepted him as a watcher, another ex-watcher in this case, and someone who could help her beloved father figure. He seemed overly pompous on occasions, but Elizabeth knew that to be Watcher training. Still, he seemed to care for both Cordelia and Angel, and the Slayer was glad her vampire had someone who tried to understand him.

Willow and Tara arrived mid-afternoon after their summer class ended for the day, Xander and Anya in tow. Elizabeth had no idea what either Xander or Anya did during the day but was afraid to ask; Anya was entirely too willing to share the intimate details of she and Xander’s life with everyone. Elizabeth liked the other woman, she was practical, honest, and knowledgeable about a great many things, but she didn’t know Anya or Xander that well to want to know those kinds of details. 

No one should ever know those details. 

Willow always went immediately to her books, or, frustrated, to the computer to hunt down this Blue Ox. Tara and Cordelia went off in a corner, to the jealous looks of Willow, ostensibly to look for another way to send Elizabeth back to her world. They were really looking for more information about the curse, failing that, ways to permanently bind one being’s soul to his body. 

Tara disliked lying to everyone, but both Elizabeth and Cordelia – who could be extremely persuasive when she wanted to be – convinced her that they had enough to look through, and that this was best done quietly. Besides, if they hadn’t done it themselves, especially knowing what the cost was, why should they be informed now?

Riley showed at various times during the day and night, depending on his class schedule. He’d quit the Initiative, but apparently the school still wanted him as a TA. Elizabeth didn’t care, didn’t want him around, and when she learned that Forest was dead in this world, too, had threatened Riley once more. The anger she felt over what happened in her world bubbled over into this one, and she couldn’t let it go no matter how well she knew the differences between the two. 

Angel, looking smug and testosterone driven, had comforted Elizabeth over Forest’s dearth, while Riley looked on jealous and angry. Elizabeth laughed off their silent confrontation, but was secretly glad that Angel was there for her. She was always glad he was there for her. 

He offered to patrol with her, but Elizabeth refused him. He offered to train with her, sneering at Angel and Spike, and Elizabeth accepted. Their one training session was still of great amusement to she, Angel, Spike, Anya, Cordelia, and Wesley. Giles tried not to laugh, but Elizabeth knew he wanted to. Not bothering to hide her powers, Elizabeth let Riley move first, taking his boast that he and Buffy had trained in the past as a joke. If Buffy was half as strong as Elizabeth, then the other Slayer was holding back. 

Elizabeth’s first punch, followed immediately by a roundhouse kick, sent Riley flying backwards into the wall of a neighboring condo. He hadn’t moved for long minutes and Xander rushed over to him, helping him stand and leading him into Giles’ place for some seriously needed medical attention. And a stiff drink or two. All the while Xander shot Elizabeth angry looks about her treatment of Riley.

Shrugging them off, Elizabeth turned to the only two with a hope in hell of matching her. “Ready?”

Joyce called every day, and every day Giles gave a report of her progress training wise. Elizabeth refused to talk to her, but paled, noticeably, every time the phone rang.

Angel had comforted her over that, too, but only once, holding her as she cried for the parents she barely remembered and the almost-disinterest this world’s Joyce showed in her daughter’s life. She’d asked about her father, and all Angel could say was that Hank was in LA and had stayed there after the divorce. He hadn’t known what else to say, so remained quiet in the shaded back courtyard of Giles’ complex. He held her as Spike stood guard against both the light – wouldn’t want the poof to lose track of the sun movement he had told Angel – and intruders. Even if they were friends.

Elizabeth still wasn’t really talking to anyone but he, Spike, Giles, Tara, and Cordelia. She didn’t know the rest of the group and wasn’t sure she wanted to become close to people she’d most likely have to leave; okay, that was a big lie. She didn’t like either Xander of Willow or their expectations for Buffy/Elizabeth and she resented the fact that they tried to mold her into their Buffy, shunning her when they couldn’t. 

Her disinterest in the rest of the gang hadn’t stopped her from learning more about Angel. Nothing could; it was like a compulsion to know more, a need she had to find out all she could about him.

Humming slightly to herself as she prepared to scramble their remaining eggs, the sun blocked by heavy curtains, Elizabeth wondered why she’d ever want to go back. It wasn’t like she had a lot to go back to, only Giles and Cordelia, and she was positive they were better off without her there. Maybe they could get out of the War, let the new Slayer – if one was called – take her place, and try for something resembling normal.

Not that Elizabeth knew what normal was, but it’d be nice if someone else got it.

Laying the strips of bacon in the pan, she grabbed the blood containers from the fridge and carefully poured the contents into two mugs, placing one at a time in the microwave to heat.

Now there was something she’d never have thought to do; heat blood for a pair of vampires she wasn’t sure could be counted as allies. But they could, and Elizabeth knew that. Spike was a mystery, but seemed to want to help and protect her and for that, Elizabeth could trust him. As far as that went at least. But Angel…her Angel, all sweet, caring, all repressed passion Angel.

Elizabeth wanted him with a fire that refused to be banked. She wanted more with him than they had, and every moment they spent together brought them closer to losing control. She understood his fear, but couldn’t care. Not now, not anymore; from what he told her of his demon, and from what she knew of her world’s Angelus, the demon was equally as capable of love and affection as the soul. Angel barely saw that, terrified that Angelus would get loose and murder all his friends…and worse, murder her.

Elizabeth didn’t see it that way.

She saw it as the demon wanting what the soul had, wanting Buffy. Wanting Elizabeth. Wanting the Slayer who defied him at every turn, who showed him that she was his match, his equal.

And God help her, she wanted Angel desperately; she was going crazy being with him day and night but not having him, not feeling him next to her, not feeling him in her. It was a need that pulsed through her, that made her hyper-aware of both her body and her body’s responses to him, and of Angel himself.

The way he touched her, the little caresses along her arm, her shoulders, the smiles, the way his hand found hers, a brush of his cool fingertips. His body as they trained together, the rush she had from being so near him, the way he felt under her as she bested him; rock hard and wanting. More than once their lips found each other’s in heat and need, possessing until something or someone inevitably broke them apart.

The goodnight kisses he gave her, moving from a chaste touching of his lips on her forehead weeks ago, to more passionate ones on her mouth, igniting that fervor within her that she didn’t want to extinguish. He’d caught himself nearly every time, every time but once. Elizabeth shivered now as she remembered, remembered feeling her body pressed against his, molded to his, his muscles bunching under her fingertips.

How his big cool hands had felt on her, tweaking nipples, molding her breasts, a growl/purr rumbling through him. He’d backed her up to the wall, lifting her the inches needed to meet her eye to eye, hip to hip. Mouth devouring hers, erection rocking against her moist softness, hands touching, feeling, tugging clothing.

A chance shout from Spike to Giles about something was the only thing that broke them apart. Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to stop, her body humming in need for the vampire before her. Angel had freaked and left, not talking to her for the whole of the next day and only then to apologize. She hadn’t accepted that apology, but had kissed the words from his lips.

“I wanted it, too Angel,” she told him. “You have nothing to be sorry for; you shouldn’t have to be sorry.”

“I just…Elizabeth, I just want you so much,” he’d whispered in an anguished voice. He held her close, hands convulsing in her smaller ones as he held himself back. “I swear I never meant to let it go this far.”

And that was when she’d asked him. “Is it me you want? Or the fact that I’m so much like your Buffy?”

His hands were on her shoulders in a moment, long fingers digging into her flesh, his face that of his demon’s. And Elizabeth thought he was beautiful this way, too. “You, Elizabeth. I know the differences between you and Buffy. I know them. But I want you, please believe me. God, I want you so much.”

Her lips touched his in a sift kiss. “I do believe you, my Angel. And I want you just as much.”

Elizabeth wanted him, yes, she most certainly wanted him, with everything in her she wanted him. Wanted him to quench the fire running through her veins, to sate her desires, all her desires and she knew he was the one who could. She didn’t want him to lose his soul, didn’t want him to revert to his worst nightmare. Yet, from all he told her, she wondered if there was something more he wasn’t telling her. Secrets of the demon, perhaps, but couldn’t place what they could be.

A door opened silently behind her and Elizabeth automatically turned, a smile on her face already knowing it was him. Angel stood behind her, accepting both smile and the mug she held out for him.

“Morning,” she whispered, careful not to wake Giles.

“Morning,” he repeated and captured her lips in a quick but searing kiss before turning away to drink his mug of blood.

Elizabeth caught his arm, turning him back to face her. “Don’t turn away from me,” she pleaded, “Please don’t do that.”

“But…” Angel started but saw the plea in her eyes, the…oh, the love shining there, the need to be a part of him as he was a part of her. He was speechless for long moments before nodding, silently bringing the mug to his lips, taking the first sip.

Beaming, Elizabeth turned back to her bacon and finished making her breakfast. Giles wandered down the stairs, the smell of cooking food waking him. He was amazed at this woman who could cook, and the fact that she did so willingly and expertly.

“You taught me when I was twelve,” she had said several days ago, “Or actually, had me taught. The confirmed English bachelor and the brash American girl trying to live together off takeout and mac and cheese? It wasn’t working. Signore Florentine will never teach his cooking lessons the same again, not after he had to instruct me.”

He noted that Angel was already awake and couldn’t say that surprised him. Worried but not surprised. The couple was growing closer every day, and nothing anyone seemed to try made any difference. They couldn’t separate them; Elizabeth found a logical argument to circumvent every reason they came up with. Whenever she couldn’t, she just shrugged and did whatever she pleased anyway, as if she were used to getting her own way and everyone else following her orders. 

They couldn’t watch them all the time; Angel was right when he said that a group patrol was a waste of time and resources. Spike vowed to watch over them and Giles wondered what God-awful reasoning made him agree with the chipped vampire.

“The mansion is cleaned out and ready,” Angel was saying now as Giles took the other stool by his breakfast bar. “We can move in there tonight.”

“Good,” Elizabeth said as she turned with a cup of tea for Giles and a plate of food. “I’m tired to being confined here, no offense, Giles,” she said as she made a plate for herself, “But I’m sure you want your place back. And I know the neighbors will be a lot happier when we’re not training outside.”

“I’m still not sure that’s such a good idea, Elizabeth,” Giles objected as he chewed a piece of extra crispy bacon, made just the way he liked it. “I don’t like you living on the other side of town.”

Elizabeth laughed, knowing full well his reasoning and again…not caring. “Giles, stop. I can take care of myself and anything that comes my way. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been which is saying a lot; I was the strongest Slayer before coming here. I know what I’m doing.”

He’d run out of arguments two days ago and they both knew it. 

Reluctantly, Rupert Giles had resigned himself to Elizabeth moving in with Angel and Spike at the Crawford Street mansion. He’d already dug out his extra Orb of Thessula and had Willow make extra copies of the Restoration Spell. Cordelia volunteered to move in with them, and Elizabeth eagerly agreed; Angel had as well, not wanting his link to the Powers That Be, be severed; he needed his Seer, his link.

Cordelia also volunteered to keep an eye on them, knowing that different Buffy didn’t mean Angel wanted her any less. Plus she liked this Elizabeth. She hadn’t admitted it, but she liked her.

“I’ll need more clothes,” Elizabeth was saying now. “Maybe Cordelia can stop over the house and pick some more up before she meets us at the mansion.” She never referred to the Summers’ residence as home, or even mom’s, simply ‘the house’. And she never went there, refusing even to talk about it.

“I think it’d look better if Willow did that,” Giles said now, setting his tea cup down. “Joyce doesn’t know Cordelia’s in town but she does know that the two of you didn’t get on that well.”

Angel agreed, taking Elizabeth’s hand in his at her look. “Giles is right, Elizabeth, Willow’s the best choice.”

Elizabeth’s eyes clouded but she silently nodded, lowering her head so no one would see the hurt and tears in her beautiful eyes; things were so different here, she couldn’t even let everyone know that Cordelia was her best friend. Spike chose at that moment to stumble into the house, tossing the smoldering blanket over the coat rack. 

Keeping her eyes averted, Elizabeth stood, reluctantly removing her hand from Angel’s, to pass Spike his mug of blood.

“Thanks, Slayer,” he nodded, noting that she added the Weatabix just the way he liked it. He could so get used to this. Draining the mug, he watched Elizabeth eat her breakfast in silence, Angel hovering over her in equal silence. The Watcher pushed his half-eaten plate away and drained his tea in a single swallow.

What the hell happened in the like the thirty minutes he missed?

Unsated passion between the poof and the Slayer, check. Sly glances between the afore mentioned, check. Watcher trying to ignore what he couldn’t stop or change, check. So what the hell happened?

“We’re moving into the mansion today, Spike,” Angel said, breaking the moment.

“Got that fridge all hooked up, then?” The younger vampire asked as he drained his blood.

“Yeah,” Angel smirked, “But you’re on you own for the crackers.”

“Nancy boy,” Spike sneered but everyone knew it was just for effect now. Whatever happened between the two vampires before, and whatever changed, Angel and Spike had some kind of truce between them. Elizabeth found it endearing, the elder and younger getting along like a family. Giles found it extraordinarily disturbing. 

“Been living off pig’s blood too long.” Spike added, then grimaced as he realized he’d just downed his own pig’s blood. Bloody pain in his ass.

“Don’t start with me, boy.”

Elizabeth sighed and took her plate to the sink. But a small smile played around her lips at their interaction.

She didn’t want to return home. Because home didn’t have this. Didn’t have Spike who protected her because of something within him that needed him to, and because of his relationship with Angel. Because he liked when she beat him when they spared and when his caustic comments were met by something equal from her. 

And her world didn’t have Angel.

A world without Angel, what was the point?

Part 12        Part 14

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