Everywhere and Nowhere and All of the In Between 

The book was tired. 

It was old and so tired from use and from sleep and couldn’t even remember ever having so much fun. This was beyond interesting, these Lost. They loved and yearned and yet did not understand. It would have laughed, but…it was so tired. 

Leaving those who Watched to their…watching, it chuckled once more and snuggled next to its constant companion, wondering if these Lost Souls would ever understand. It didn’t matter, not in the long run, for the long run was already looking…different. 

But then the book already knew the future, just as it knew the past, just as it knew what these two were up to long before they decided to do it. Feeling itself lose consciousness, it decided that a short reprieve wasn’t amiss and that since it already knew everything – fun, exciting, and damned interesting as it was – it could catch up later. 

Once those who Watched finished screwing everything up to exactly the way it was supposed to be in the first place. 

Sleep, its key said in a soft voice. Sleep. And when we wake, everything will be different. When we wake, the world will be different.
~~~~~~~~~~  
Track A in Track B  

Darla was dead. Again. 

She’d just watch Angel/Angelus kill his Sire again. For her. He hadn’t, not this time, but the intent was there, the motive. He would have. For her. 

Buffy stared in shock at the blood on her hands. Not because of the blood itself, nor for the way that blood got there, not even for the fact that she didn’t care about the blood. No, it was because of the irony of the situation. The irony of watching the same person die in a similar way. The irony of having done it herself this time. 

She didn’t realize that Angelus had swung her into his arms, carrying her through the not so – deserted nighttime streets of London to their stolen home. Her gaze was fixed on her hands, but her mind was reliving the events of before. What she saw when that strange tugging wanted to pull her away from Angelus and the life she’d built here. 

Angel was there; he was there and staring at her with a possessive and cocky grin reminiscent of Angelus…or the time before, when he’d lost his soul, maybe. His eyes were shinning his love and his assurance. Buffy hadn’t seen him look that way in…years. Not since he…not since he’d lost his soul. 

What or who was he staring at? Was it her, waiting for her to return to him? It figured that someone from Sunnydale had called him, but why was he looking at her like that? It had been over a year since they were together, and it made no sense that now, when she wasn’t even there, that he’d look at her with such…primal need. Or maybe it was just something her mind conjured up from her life here, somehow transposing it with her life there? 

Buffy didn’t know, didn’t care, and didn’t ever want to know. Knowing meant she was back there, knowing meant that she was pulled from her Angelus’ arms and forcibly returned to her other life. 

“Buffy,” Angelus questioned softly, worried for her. She wasn’t bouncing back with a sarcastic comment he most likely couldn’t understand. She wasn’t dismissing the entire thing, or even dancing in Darla’s ashes. What had happened to her during the fight that caused her to be so quiet? 

“Love, what’s wrong?” His voice was soft, as caressing as his hands. Only with her was he such, and they both knew it. 

Buffy focused dark eyes on her lover. They were in their room, the curtains closed against the impending sunlight, the drapery thick and heavy, the bed was freshly made, the scents of cleaning detergents and flowers strong in the room. A simple meal of fruit and cold chicken laid was out on the table, obviously for her. When had they got back to the house? 

“Do you love me?” She asked, large eyes staring into his deep brown ones. 

In the dimness of the room, Angelus looked into her scared eyes. Her normally bright green eyes were darker now, and he didn’t know if that was because of whatever happened to her or the depth of emotion he could see within her very soul. Her question had taken him by surprise, and he wasn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Yes,” he said simply, the truth of his feelings easier to admit than he thought. “I do love you.” 

“Good,” she nodded, staring once again at her bloodied hands. “I love you, too.” 

Concerned with her fixation on her hands, Angelus walked to the basin and brought it and the cloth to the bedside. Wetting the cloth, he began to carefully wash her hands. He’d have thought that killing Darla was something she’d celebrate…obviously, he was somehow wrong. 

“They were trying to get me back,” she said after long moments. “My friends in…from.” She stopped, her gaze unfocused on what her lover was doing. “They were trying to return me to…there.” 

“What happened?” He couldn’t help the growl of displeasure that graced his question. He wasn’t going to give Buffy up to anyone – not the Master, not Darla, not her own foolish attempts to leave him. And certainly not to friends from a life than had done nothing but depress her. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I saw you…or maybe the you from my world. You were there, smiling at me, but-” 

“But what?” 

“But it wasn’t you. It was Angel, the one from then.” 

“And did he want you back?” 

Buffy didn’t know, it wasn’t that clear; nothing about the experience was. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “He did, but he didn’t want me to leave, which I don’t understand.” 

Angelus set the bloody basin away from him, climbed onto the bed and gathered Buffy in his arms. He had no idea what happened, no idea why whatever spell her friends had tried hadn’t worked, but was grateful it had. He’d hate to see what he’d do if she was taken from him. 

This world and her other one would never be the same. He’d burn them both. 

“You’re not leaving me, lover,” he growled, his anger over the mere thought enough to have him slipping into his vampire face. He didn’t care what he had to do or who he had to do it to. Buffy wasn’t leaving him because her friends wanted her to. She wasn’t leaving him no matter what. 

“I don’t want to,” she admitted in a quiet voice. Something within him released at that admission and Angelus’ nonexistent breath caught between a growl and a purr. 

“I don’t care,” he whispered as his mouth crashed down on hers, showing her just how much he wanted her and how little tolerance he’d have for those who intended to take her away from him. 

And when she shouted his name, when she bared her neck to his fangs, when she bowed her body into his, Angelus knew that she’d stay with him. Forever.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B  

He had to do something, Nest thought as he sat in his chair and stared into space. 

He had to get back at that Slayer and her lover – one of his own at that. He was going to turn her, that would get Angelus – the traitor – back, but he had to be careful with how he went about it. Obviously, this Slayer was smart, wily, and more than able to hold her own, if the rumors of the now dusted vamp were true. Had Darla truly met her end when the Slayer punched a hole through her chest?

Impressive, Nest thought, most impressive. 

And he wanted that on his side, wanted her on his side. 

Drusilla was the key, he thought as his minions milled around, directionless and scared. Angelus had always been more protective of that Childe than any other and William was even more so. Briefly wondering if this Slayer also considered Drusilla of value, the Master of Aurelius planned on getting the mad vampiress. 

Step one, discover the Slayer’s route in London as she slayed. Step two, trail Drusilla. Step three, kidnap Drusilla and trade her for the Slayer. He’d have to plan it out carefully, Nest thought as he stood, commanding the attention of the room and working the details out in his head. He didn’t want to botch the plan like Darla, and he had no desire to go up against a slayer that was rumored to be the strongest one ever.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B  

“So,” Buffy said as she stretched along Angelus’ naked body. “We compromise again?” 

“So it would seem,” he reluctantly agreed and Buffy heard the loathing he felt for that clear in his voice. He didn’t like it and didn’t want it, but Buffy refused to back down. 

Oh, he’d work on her, Angelus vowed, he’d wear her down, turn her to his way of thinking. But for now, it seemed best if he allowed his feisty lover her lead. Later he’d draw her in, slowly reeling her to his side…permanently. And forever. 

He hated that she killed his kind, though Angelus had little tolerance for most of them anyway. No, what he truly hated was that she killed potential allies as well as incompetents and enemies. Every night she ventured out, no matter for how short a time, she placed herself in danger and that was another strike against this…plan, such as it was. 

“Mikhail of Tamatarha is in town,” Angelus said slowly, waiting. 

“Who is he?” Buffy asked at the sudden change of subject, knowing that he wouldn’t have brought it up had it not been important. 

“He’s a business partner,” Angelus told her, looking down at her curious expression. “And he’s a strong ally.” 

Buffy knew what he was getting at but didn’t know what to do or say about it. Instead, she continued to stare at him in silence, wondering what she’d do if he asked her. He didn’t, not yet. He simply looked at her with those deep eyes, compelling her to fall into them. 

She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to but Buffy resisted. Barely, but she did. 

“His Clan is in London to see me,” he said eventually. “I don’t want them harmed in anyway. Not yet at least.” Vampire alliances being as changeable as they were, Angelus’ feelings on the matter could change at a moment’s notice. He didn’t ask her, not yet, still working out the words to do so. He didn’t want to order her, as that was the easiest way to get Buffy to do the exact opposite of what you wanted. At the same time, he didn’t want her getting in the middle of something that got her hurt. 

“Stay away from them,” he said instead, “Just for now. Alright?” 

Buffy nodded slowly, weighing the pros and cons of this. She could easily do that, stay away from the Tambourine Clan, or whatever they were. And she didn’t think Angelus would’ve asked had it not been important. On the other hand, she wasn’t used to leaving vamps alive as allies…except for Angel and Spike. And now, Drusilla. 

Maybe she was used to it. 

“For now,” she agreed, resting her head back on his cool chest as his hands wandered over her again. “If it’s important to you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy didn’t go out hunting the next night, nor did Angelus. 

By mutual and silent agreement, they stayed in with each other. Angelus because he was worried for Buffy – her physical and mental health – and Buffy because she didn’t want to leave the safety of her lover’s arms just yet. Besides, Buffy reasoned as she sat in front of the fireplace, letting Drusilla play with her hair, it wasn’t like Angelus needed to feed every night…and it was just best not to think on that too much. 

Thinking on that led to thinking on who he fed off of, and that led to the jealous anger that he tasted someone other than her, and then the crushing guilt that she was doing nothing to stop him. 

Angelus, on the other hand, didn’t want to leave Buffy until he was assured of her stability. He watched her from across the room as he looked over his accounts, William beside him to take down whatever notes were needed before their next meeting with their accountants. The elder vampire had broken enough minds in his time to know how it was done. Buffy seemed stronger than most, though Angelus could sense a deep…almost fracture within her that hadn’t yet healed. 

He suspected it had something to do with him, more specifically the him from her world. Whether it was his demon’s courting, or his soul’s leaving, Angelus couldn’t have said, but he worried. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy,” Drusilla whispered to Buffy as she brushed the Slayer’s growing locks. “Daddy won’t let you leave him. And the Other won’t either.” 

Buffy had no idea what the crazed woman was talking about and said so. She was on edge as it was, and wasn’t sure how – or if – she could pull back from the edge. Angelus was the only thing holding her here, her anchor in this strange storm that was her life. “Drusilla, please make sense. Not all of us can read the stars.” 

“Your world,” Drusilla said, her voice lowering. “Angel won’t let you go, but Angel has you already and won’t want to switch you.” 

Whatever she expected Drusilla to say, this wasn’t it. Still, “It doesn’t matter, Drusilla,” Buffy assured her. “I love Angel, my Angel, but this Angelus,” she shot a look over her shoulder to where her lover was conversing with William. He could probably hear her, but was allowing her this privacy. She appreciated that, more than he could know. 

“Angelus, I need him. He’s…more and different than the Angel I knew, even the Angelus I knew.” She looked at Drusilla with large green eyes, expressive with love and need and no conflict whatsoever. 

“I’m not returning, Drusilla,” she vowed. “I belong here.” 

Leaning down, Drusilla kissed Buffy, smiling. “Yes, yes you do.” 

Shocked at the kiss, Buffy didn’t pull away, wondering at the feeling of Drusilla’s lips on hers. They were cool, like Angelus’, and she could faintly taste Angelus on his Childe’s mouth. Shaking off the sensation and the lingering feeling that went with it, Buffy returned to the book she was half reading as she sat with Drusilla. 

But Dracula just wasn’t her kind of story, though she’d be interested in meeting him Still, Buffy’s attention drifted from Dracula back to her vampire. Her lover. 

Angelus was so different from the being she knew before landing here like some displaced leaf caught up in a twister. This one wasn’t afraid to go after what he wanted, wasn’t afraid to admit what he wanted. He wanted her, and he had her. He wanted her in his bed and as his Mate, and he had her. Willingly. He had her because she wanted to be there, and he had her because she understood, finally, what he’d wanted all along. 

The Angelus she originally met couldn’t admit to that, and Buffy could see why. At the same time, Angel was too afraid of his demon and that demon’s wants, to take what the soul wanted. 

Her Angelus was both the Angel and Angelus from her world, demon and…not soul, but he had a gentler, more understanding side to him that was still ruthless and cruel, but that protected her. Oh, she could take care of herself; she was strong, stronger than ever before, and she knew the rules. Actually, she broke the rules and made her own and everyone was happier when she was happier. 

I love this man, she thought as Drusilla continued to hum a strange little tune and the faint voices of William and Angelus drifted over to her. And I want whatever kind of life I have to have, I can have to be with him.  

So they’d try the living in each other’s worlds, they’d try to meld their disparate lifestyles into something they could both live with. Because Buffy knew that she couldn’t live without him again. And she sure as hell didn’t want to.
~~~~~~~~~~
Nest listened to the vamp as the minion reported the movements of the slayer. 

She was consistent, he’d give her that. She swept through the lower class neighborhoods quickly and efficiently, rarely missing anything. She moved in a circle around the house Nest knew her to be staying in with Angelus, keeping that area clean of all vampires and demons. In fact, she did such a good job that the vampires and demons who nested and hunted just outside her area, had moved for precautionary measures. 

“Where is she now?” He asked, his plan ticking forward. 

“Home,” the minion replied. “She arrives home long before the sun sets.” 

“Good,” Nest replied with a thoughtful nod. “Good.” His plan was going to move ahead nicely now.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, if one could call the screams and shouts that, again, but knew it was probably inevitable. Shouldn’t they be able to talk about this like rational people? Other people she knew did. Okay, that wasn’t true. She didn’t know many people, and none of their conversations ever went smoothly. 

Probably a by-product of living on the Hellmouth. 

Still, she’d read about it, all those romance books Willow loved to hate to read in high school. People talked in those, and they were always calm discussions. Somehow, with her nothing was calm, quiet, and…rational. 

This was just how it was between her and Angel. Angelus. The both of them. It was always how it was between them. They just couldn’t live in each other’s worlds. Vampire and Slayer. It was impossible. So their…discussions became louder, the harder they tried to deny it. 

“Look,” Buffy said, keeping her emotions in check, or as much as she could. It was hard, she was angry and desperately afraid that this was the end. And then where would she go? “This isn’t working,” and it tore at some deep fundamental part of her. “It’s like oil and water, very unmixy things. I slay, you hate it. You hunt, I hate it.” 

“Of course I hate it,” he told her as he had several times before. His voice was flat, hard, angry. But his eyes held just a hint of something else. Fear that he’d lose her. “I hate that others see you as you dance to their deaths,” his hands gripped her arms. “I hate that it arouses you, and they know it, and I’m not there. I hate that you enjoy it!”

”Oh,” Buffy countered, fire spitting from her green eyes. “Don’t even try to tell me that drinking all those women doesn’t get you hot. Don’t try to tell me that when you’re draining them the thought of fucking them as you drink isn’t on your mind.” 

“I’m not going to change who I am,” Angelus sneered. He hadn’t thought of fucking them as he drained them. And he didn’t drink women anymore, either, a fact that he hated but refused to contemplate. The only woman he wanted was Buffy – and he hated that as much as he needed her. The only woman whose blood he tasted was Buffy’s, and the only body he had was hers. 

But he didn’t tell her that. 

“No, we can’t change who we are, and really. Do you want to change?” She didn’t wait for his answer, because really, he’d just told her it. “No. You don’t, and you won’t. I get it, really. I hate it, and I want to change that, but I get it. But you don’t get that I can’t change, either!” 

“I understand that,” Angelus snarled, the setting sun now a memory as they stood in the front salon. Just as well, in the mood Buffy was in, he wouldn’t put it past her to toss him into the sun. Just to see him scramble. 

“Do you?” She wondered. 

“Yes,” he hissed. “I understand what you do, who you are.” He hated it but understood it. Partly. Mostly. And even as he hated it, even as he understood it, it made his body scream for hers. “You slay. I hunt. You kill my kind, I kill yours.” 

“And neither one of us is going to change.” Her voice was quiet now, soft with regrets. Maybe this was why Angel had left her. Because no matter what he was or wasn’t with his soul, he was still a predator. A killer of her kind. And she was a killer of his. 

“Not yet,” Angelus said slowly and just as softly. 

“I’m leaving,” Buffy said, not really understanding what he meant by that. Did he think he could change her? Make her not the slayer? Ha, she already tried that herself after she’d killed Angel. And, oh, that pain was still there. But if she couldn’t change herself, then why did Angelus think he could change her? 

“I have to get out,” she mumbled, already heading for the door. She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t. but deep within her, Buffy knew she was running. From him and from them. It didn’t stop her. “I need to think.” 

He watched her go, watched her race out that door and vowed that this was the last time she’d do so. Buffy didn’t understand the extent of his need for her, the extent of his passion. The extent of his love. She thought him to be some saner, softer version of the Angelus she knew before, in her world. She was wrong. 

He was exactly the same. Oh, he hadn’t been trapped under a sniveling soul for a hundred years, currently prone to outbursts he didn’t mean and courtships he bungled. But then he also hadn’t won her love. Not really, not him. And that grated. It was the soul that had done so, the soul whom Buffy had first loved. The soul she had wanted and needed and gave herself to. It was the other demon she couldn’t kill because of that love and the other soul she still loved. 

Even as she loved him, even as she wanted and needed and craved him. Even as she expressed her love for him, this Angelus, this demon. He wasn’t entirely sure she understood the differences as much as she wanted the similarities. But then he just wanted her. Needed her. And he wasn’t going to lose her. 

Not even to her own human – and Slayer – mentalities. 

He waited another five minutes before leaving, following her as he often had on her patrols. Angelus wasn’t sure if she knew he was following her or not, but suspected that most nights…she knew. She always knew when he was near. It was…something not sappy, he decided, that she knew. 

Turning in the direction previous experience and her scent told him she’d gone, Angelus went to claim his mate.

To claim and to Turn his mate.

Part 21        Part 23

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