The entire troop headed for the Magic Box, keeping to darkened back ways, and dragging Jimnub with them. Once they reached the shop, Xander called Tara as the others milled around, exhausted, scared, and unsure what was the next step. Gunn offered to guard the demon and yanked Jimnub back to the stairs at the far end of the shop, tying him tightly to a chair.

“Tara’s on her way,” Xander announced to the group, stepping back into the main room, his eyes falling on Willow’s. “I told her we’d explain when she got here since it’ll probably require graphs of some kind.” She gave him a small smile, showing how difficult this was going to be. She and Tara hadn’t spoken in weeks.

Research began as book after book was pulled off the shelves, Anya cringing as each one slapped against the wooden table. “Careful!” she cried. “Some of these are older than me!”

“Look first for any reference to The Teplir, to Glorificus, to the Key,” Wesley ordered, in his element. “Cordelia, call Fred, would you? Ask her to come down here. Bring the baby.”

Cordy nodded and moved behind the counter to make the call.

“Now can I ask?” Anya spoke up. “Who’s Connor?”

“For that matter, who’s Fred?” Xander asked. “And…baby?” His eyes ticked to Spike. “And don’t for a second think I’ve forgotten what Willow said back there about you and Buffy.”

Spike looked away, unimpressed.

Willow and Wesley exchanged a glance. “I’d better take this one,” she told him, drawing a breath. “Okay, well, Fred…Fred’s easy. I mean…I don’t mean she’s…I meant she’s…”

“Will,” Xander said gently, “We get it.”

The witch flushed but continued. “Right. Fred was trapped in a demon dimension…”

“Pylea,” Gunn offered without looking away from Jimnub.

“Pylea,” Willow continued. “It’s actually the dimension where Lorne, the Host, is from…he’s another friend of theirs. Anyway, she was trapped there, because humans are considered like…gnats there and they’re enslaved.”

“Cordelia was one of their captives, as a matter of fact, and the reason we ventured to Pylea in the first place,” Wesley broke in.

Xander snorted. “Oh…the money I would have paid. I’m never in the right place at the right—ow!” he cried as Cordy reentered the room and smacked him across the back of his head, never breaking stride as she walked to the table and took a seat.

“I was a slave for a day. Then they made me a queen,” she announced proudly. “And I changed all the rules so that humans were free and I set up quite a nice little democracy, if I do say so myself.” She glanced at Wesley. “She’s on her way.”

“Lived up to that Queen C nickname, huh?” Xander teased, rubbing the back of his head.

Cordy gave him a quick grin.

“Anyway,” Willow continued. “Fred was trapped there, had been for years, and they brought her back when they all escaped through the portal.”

“Portal?” Anya asked.

“I know…it’s the strangest of coincidences, isn’t it?” Wesley said, somewhat bemused. “This all happened at almost the exact same time last year…what with you and your portal and us with ours.”

“So Fred came to live with you,” Anya summed up. “That took entirely too long to say.”

“So who’s Connor?” Dawn asked.

Willow and Cordelia now exchanged a glance. “Well, Dawn…things in Angel’s life have been a little…rocky lately,” Cordelia began.

“He’s Angel’s son, Darla’s the mother,” Gunn said from the back of the shop. “There. Six words or less.”

There was a collective gasp. “Hold up, wait a minute. Angel’s got a kid?!” Xander cried. “How is that possible?”

Spike started to chuckle. “Angel got some? Eh…stranger things have happened. But better yet…he knocked the poor git up. Oh lordie…the things a pesky curse will do to a man…make you feel all comfortable with your vamp-self and then…the Powers having a bit of fun at the poof’s expense are they? Love to see what kind of spawn they shoved off on him and that miserable hag.”

“He’s human,” Cordelia informed him tempestuously. “And adorable.”

“So where’s mommy-dearest?” Spike smirked.

“Dusted,” Gunn told him. “Done it herself.”

Now Spike’s jaw fell open. “You’re telling me that the hellcat herself drove a stake through her own chest? Why?”

Cordelia glared at him. “The baby was in trouble…and because he’s human and has a soul…well, the soul was infecting Darla. Made her actually have emotions, if you can believe that. Though it didn’t stop her from trying to make me a snack,” she muttered bitterly. “Luckily the bite mark healed pretty quick or I might have dusted her myself.”

“Darla. Darla had feelings. I’d wager she didn’t even have human emotions when she was living!” Spike cried incredulously.

“But it’s true,” Wesley snapped. “To save Connor she staked herself, leaving behind her son for Angel to care for. And just about every demon in this dimension was looking for him.”

“Woah…” Xander murmured. “How’d Buffy take all that?” he asked Willow.

Willow gave him a small smile. “I think the term you might want to use here is ‘wigged.’”

“Sure, if you were severely toning it down,” Cordy corrected. “She went berserk. Almost walked in front of a bus.”

The group sat back, taking in the news. “Wow…Angel, a dad. Makes me kinda not want to shove pointy wooden things through his heart anymore,” Xander murmured, then corrected, “Kinda. I just can’t get over it.” He glanced up at Wesley. “You’re the Muggle with the smarts…what’s your take on the whole someone we know squelching another vampire truism?”

“Is he really a Muggle?” Gunn asked from the back. “I mean, he’s performed a spell or two in his day.”

Xander grinned. “Yeah, but he’s not a full-blown wizard. I think Muggle status still stands. Plus, it’s just fun to say Muggle.”

“And…my dad? What happened with him?” Dawn asked, frustrated and changing the subject.

Cordeila wrapped an arm around the little brunette. “She saw him. And they talked. I think she’d like to tell you about that herself. But it’s going to be okay,” she reassured her.

Dawn looked slightly more relieved, not noticing the frantic looks Willow was giving Xander and Anya. Xander caught on right away. “Right, Dawnster. Stuff with your dad? Back-burner material. Buffy’s probably schmoozed him over, like we all know she can, and he’s sitting in his apartment right now thinking what lovely and mature daughters he has.”

“Exactly!” Anya said, a little too enthusiastically.

“Buffy sorta had to tell him she was the Slayer, though, and I don’t think he believed her,” Willow told them.

“Huh. Imagine that. Well, that’s okay,” Xander said, “Joyce didn’t believe it at first either, until she saw her first slaying. Then she was pretty cool with it. Joyce was like that. With the coolness. Level head.”

Cordelia caught his eye and gave a slight shake of her head. Xander immediately changed the topic.

“So…Angel’s got a son, huh?”

Spike was glowering in the corner now. Bloody Peaches got himself a kid, knocked up his sire…and the Slayer went gaga when she found out. Lovely. “How in the hell did Darla get preggers?” he bit out.

Wesley glared at him. “It’s hard to explain…there are theories of course, some of them rather tedious and long-winded. There are the Powers That Be, of course, that may have intervened, and then there are vampire legends to be explored, myths to consider. We believe it was some sort of mystical presence or divine interven—“ he began.

“We have no idea,” Gunn interrupted.

Wesley moved to defend himself, then sighed, deflated. “We have no idea,” he agreed. “There is a prophecy, however…” he stopped when the entire group groaned. “But maybe…another time…”

“Let’s turn the conversation to something a little more upsetting than Angel and his offspring,” Xander piped up. “Spike. Ability to hurt Buffy and annoy me with a single bound. What’s with this new, undesirable development and…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this without further investigating the extent of your spanking new chip-malfunction…” he trailed off nervously.

Spike snorted. “It’s nothing. Chip’s wonky when it comes to the Slayer. You’re still safe in your beds at night, kiddies.”

No one looked any more comforted. “How long have you known this? And why didn’t Buffy tell us?” Anya asked, inching closer to Xander. “If Spike’s chip is wearing off, shouldn’t she have told us? I think that’s just the polite thing to do.”

“Look,” Spike moaned, rising to his feet and pulling out a smoke. “Red’s got it right. It’s just the Slayer, no one else. And I’m willing to bet it’s because of her half-soul status right now that the chip doesn’t recognize her as human. So before we all go getting rowdy with the wooden objects and the oh-so-snappy insults, just chill out.”

“Why should we trust you?” Xander asked him snidely. Spike stopped abruptly, the lighter in his hand halfway to the cigarette in his mouth. “Because if the chip didn’t work on you, Harris, by now I’d have drank you down and made a Christmas wreath out of your innards,” Spike growled low.

The group was silent for a moment as this sank in. “Well, I feel better,” Cordelia commented.

The bell over the door rang suddenly and in walked Tara, followed behind by Fred and Connor. “Tara!” Dawn cried, jumping to her feet and running full throttle at the shy witch. She flung her arms around her, tears starting up again, and Tara did her best to comfort her, all the while casting curious glances at the group.

Fred shuffled in, laden down with Connor’s bags and Cordelia rose to help her. “Thanks,” Fred gushed. “Sorry it took so long. This place was easy enough to find, not a lot of town around here, sorta reminds me of my little spot in Texas, but you know how hard it is to get all his stuff back in these bags…luckily he fell asleep about a half hour ago so I managed to get it all packed up again right before you called…and in the dreary old mansion, well, I just had to wrap him up in about a hundred blankets and then we had to get out all his toys to keep him entertained…wow there are a lot of ancient looking things in that place! Angel used to actually live there? I know he likes antiques, but no one told me he used to collect ancient weaponry like that…and then there’s the chains and shackles which I don’t even want to know what those are all about…” she trailed off, noticing the large group of people.

“Oh, hi folks,” she blushed.

The group waved at her, unsure.

“This,” Cordelia said, sweeping into the room, Connor cradled in her arms, “is Connor. And this is Fred.”

Introductions were made and Dawn cleared her throat. “You guys, we have to find my sister and Angel. No more story telling, everyone’s here now,” she said, her voice wavering. She scooted closer to Tara on the bench they shared.

“I-I don’t know what’s going on, Dawnie,” Tara reminded her.

“Me either,” Fred asked, moving up next to Gunn. “Where—where’s Angel?”

Cordelia rehashed the story for the newcomers while Dawn’s suggestion was taken and research actually began, interrupted every once in a while when someone else added a detail to the short version of the tale.

“Wow,” Fred exclaimed, letting out a breath. “So now they’re there, trapped on the other side, in some dimension that simulates heavenly experiences.”

“Pretty much sums it up,” Willow murmured, leafing through a text.

“And yo-you want me a-and Willow to finish the circle with that demon over there? To try and open the portal again?” Tara stammered.

Willow’s eyes came up, seeking hers, uncertain of the reception they would receive. “I think we can do it, Tara,” she told the shy blonde. “If…if you’re willing. It was their idea,” she added.

Tara’s soulful eyes were filled with sympathy and just a bit of caution. “N-no, I don’t mind. This is important. I just don’t know much about this kind of thing.”

Relief flooded Willow’s face.

“No problem,” Cordelia assured Tara. “We’ve got vampires, ex-demons, ex-Watchers and witches, a seer, a former Key, and a girl who was trapped in an alternate dimension for five years…oh, and Gunn and Xander too,” she teased. “We’re getting them back,” she stated, determination in her voice.

*~*~*

The pleasurable sensations just kept coming. Wrapped in each other’s arms Buffy and Angel molded their bodies to one another, sighing at the flutters of joy and aches of passion.

You feel so good, her mind told him as her nails scraped lightly over his back.

Mmm, he agreed, his brain turning to jelly. He didn’t want to talk…he just wanted the tingling in his skin to continue, the hum that rocked his system. Here…alone with her…no bothers, no worries…they were safe here…here she was his.

His. From deep inside another voice rasped the word. She’s Mine.

Angel ignored the intrusion and continued visiting every inch of Buffy’s body with his lips, his hands, his fingers.

I don’t know why we spent so much time apart, Buffy sighed as her hands found purchase on his strong shoulders and her leg snaked up and around his calf, clinging to him.

Something in that murmured statement nagged at her. Time apart. She and Angel had been apart? That’s silly, she told herself, dismissing it. We’ve always been together.

Ever since the first year she’d come to Sunnydale they’d battled side by side…had made love endlessly on her seventeenth birthday and for hundreds of nights afterwards…had fought off the Mayor at Graduation, then gone home together to his mansion on Crawford Street and celebrated with their friends. She remembered it all perfectly. Even now…she recalled all the times in the past years that they’d shared a holiday, that they’d danced at the Bronze and fought demons in the cemeteries of Sunnydale. She stayed at the mansion more often than not, forgetting her dormitory. Last year they’d fought and defeated Glory together.

So why then did his current ministrations feel so good, yet so foreign? Like a remembrance of long ago…a scent of something that triggered a memory…déjà vu…

I’ll never forget, she sighed.

A strong male hand sliding up and underneath her camisole dismissed these thoughts quickly and effectively. Her concentration returned to the body firmly gripping her own.

*~*~*

Back at the Magic Shop frustrations and tension were at an all-time high. Dawn had taken to complete silence, barely flipping through the books that she had once been tearing through with abandon.

“Question,” Anya spoke up, watching Fred bouncing Connor on her knee while trying to read through a ledger of ancient scrolls. “How much time do we really have here? I mean, I know getting them back as soon as possible is the most important thing…but Buffy was gone for months and they didn’t get her entire soul. If the process is slow, we might have some time.”

“What’s your point?” Spike asked, glaring.

Fred glanced up at the tone of his voice. The shy Texan’s eyes moved to safer territory, Wesley. “I think she means…the soul extraction takes a while. Even if this takes us a little longer to figure out, their souls won’t be all gone in just hours, right?”

The question hadn’t been considered. It didn’t really make anyone feel better.

“Well…I suppose it’s a possibility. While our first priority is to retrieve Buffy and Angel from this alternate dimension, I hadn’t considered how much time we have before the soul extraction is complete. Judging by Buffy’s experience it may very well take months,” Wesley said, removing his glasses to clean them.

“Seems to me we’ve got the thing to ask sitting right here, as uncomfortable as I can make him,” Gunn called. Turning to the cloaked demon, tied tightly to a chair, Gunn poked Jimnub’s shoulder. “So? You heard the man. How long does the soul stealing take?”

Jimnub’s head raised up to face Gunn. “As long as it takes.”

“Meaning?”

“If the soul is willing to go, if the pleasure is enough, it goes quickly. If the soul is simply content if takes longer. Your friends will go quickly,” he sneered.

“Why’s that? And watch that tone,” Gunn warned.

Jimnub shrugged, seemingly uncaring. “Because we need her complete soul. Half a soul, a soul interrupted in the extraction process, causes great disturbance in the energies.”

“Why exactly do you need their souls? I don’t understand that part,” Fred asked timidly.

“Who cares?” Dawn burst out. “We’re going to keep trying. We’re not going to stop.”

“Dawn,” Xander said gently. “No one’s going to stop. But this information…it might help.”

“The Teplir use souls for spiritual energy,” Wesley informed Fred.

“Our queen needs them,” Jimnub corrected. “She is the power source of our people. It is she who controls the extraction. And she has grown weak by this disruption. Since you and the witches pulled her out of our dimension our queen has suffered. This is not acceptable.” His voice began to raise in anger. “We will not stop until her highness is restored,” he told them fiercely. “Nothing you can do will make them turn over your friends. Nor will anything you say allow you entry to our world. Sacrifice me. It matters not. I would proudly give my life for her.”

The room was quiet after this outburst.

“Ok, he’s really starting to sound like Glory’s scabby little pals now,” Spike muttered.

Finally, Tara tried to reassure Dawn. “They’ll be okay.”

“Angel. Angel will be okay. Maybe,” Dawn insisted. “He’s got all his soul. They got Buffy back with only half-full. If it takes half the time…I don’t want her coming back without a soul.”

“It’s not so bad,” Spike interjected. “A little conscious-freedom’s good for a girl.”

“No one asked you,” Xander told him.

“Dawnie,” Tara said, kissing her forehead. “We’re working as hard as we can. Your sister’s smart and she’s tough. And I don’t know Angel, but I’ve heard enough about him to know he’s the same way. Together they’ll be fine. I know it.” She smiled slightly. “And I’m a witch. I know things.”

Dawn gave her a tiny smile of comfort. “But we’re gonna keep researching, right?”

“Anyone tries to leave I’ll practice my ax hurling on ‘em,” Gunn promised, grinning.

Now Dawn smiled.

“Back to the books,” Willow announced. “I think I might have found something,” she added tentatively. “A reference to a portal opened by the Power of Three. It seems that the portal can only be opened with permission from beings from the other side. Tara and I aren’t permitted.”

“So Jack-off has an open invitation but you two don’t. Fine. We make with the threats, mom and dad sign the permission slip, you three get with the open-sesame,” Spike nodded.

“Threaten what? And who?” Wesley asked. “We so far have no way to communicate with the other side. And our demon friend seems to feel that his life is worth giving for this. They may not care if he comes back.”

Willow sat back, deflated but Tara perked up slightly.

“That may not be entirely true…about not being able to communicate with the other side,” she told them hesitantly.

Ten heads turned to her.

Tara gulped.

*~*~*

Angel nuzzled Buffy’s neck, nipping lightly at his mark given to her so many years ago. He had branded her. She was his.

Mine, the voice deep inside him growled. You don’t deserve her.

Angel tried to ignore the voice but it kept coming back.

What are you waiting for?! Take her now, give in and be free. You want her. She wants you. She wants for this to happen. She followed you here, knowing what would happen, it cried gleefully.

Angel’s whole body tensed. Her scent filled his nostrils, drugging his mind. She was here, for him, with him. Right here…so close. Pliant. Willing. Wanting.

Buffy thrust her body against his, wriggling with desire, completely taken over by blind passion. Her head rolled back, exposing her neck. Angel’s eyes opened.

The mark was pulsating. Calling to him. He moved in.

Buffy noticed that Angel had tensed and changed her position suddenly to look into his eyes. Relax, she instructed, teasing, and brought her lips up to his, then trailed them down to peck kisses over his chest. Goose bumps ran over his flesh and she smiled at the reaction.

All thoughts vanished from his mind as Buffy worked her way over his stomach, administering feather light kisses as she moved.

Inside him, something howled in frustration.

*~*~*

“What do you mean that might not be entirely true?” Willow asked.

Tara took a breath. “It’s possible, to open yourself up, for your mind to cross over lines that the physical or spiritual body cannot. It takes dark magic, dangerous magic. But it’s possible.”

“Do—do you think you--we--can do this?” Willow stammered.

Tara looked into her eyes with love. “I don’t know. But I think we have to try.”

“What do you need?” Dawn asked.

Tara looked around the shop. “Willow, do you still have my book on Dimensional Traveling? The one we used to bring Buffy back?”

Willow glanced at Xander, then at Dawn. A few weeks back Buffy and Dawn had helped Willow remove all of her magical instruments out of the Summers’ house, another part of the witch’s magic reformation.

Guiltily she nodded, her eyes casting down to her hands, now knotted in her lap. “I-I kept it because it was yours,” she admitted. “I promise. I’ve never used it. It’s locked in my closet.”

Xander looked disappointed but let it go. “Let’s go get it then.”

Willow looked close to tears when Tara reached over and put a hand on her knee, lovingly, understanding in her eyes. “I’ll go with you.” The redhead gave her a meek smile and rose to her feet.

“I’m coming too,” Dawn announced. “I want to stay with Tara.”

Xander nodded. “Right then. And as much as I hate to say this, Spike needs to come too.”

“Sure. When you need protection everyone’s in the Spike-buddy-buddy-society,” he groused, but stood up nonetheless.

“We’ll be back soon,” Xander told the others and they headed out.

The walk was quick and for the most part silent. Dawn got out her keys as they walked up the front steps to the house on Revello, but as she pushed the key into the lock the door swung open by itself. The group exchanged a nervous glance.

“Get back,” Spike instructed, moving to the front and slowly pushing the door open the rest of the way. He poked his head inside. The house was dark save for a light burning in the kitchen.

“Kitchen,” he told them. They crept inside.

There were rustling noises coming from the kitchen, the soft banging of cabinet doors as they closed, the sounds of dishes in the sink.

“Why is someone searching the kitchen?” Dawn whispered.

“On three,” Spike said low. “One…two…three!” he cried and the entire group went barreling into the Summers’ kitchen. Spike tackled the intruder and sent them both flying to the floor between the island and the kitchen sink.

“Aaahhh!” the prowler shrieked, landing with a thud.

“What are you doing in here!?” Spike shouted, his hands fisted in the man’s collar.

“Cleaning up!” came the petrified answer.

Not the response they were expecting.

Dawn peered over the island and onto the floor where the intruder was being held down. “Dad?”

Chapter Twelve: Sweet Misery
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