Contentment. Peace. At ease with her surroundings and herself. Buffy had rarely felt so safe and secure. 

A happy purring came from all around her, from inside and out, and made her smile and snuggle deeper into the familiar arms that surrounded her. Some part of her knew that she should wake up, that there were things to do and that they needed to be done and done now. However, Buffy just couldn’t bring herself to listen to that part of her. 

So, she drifted along that dreamy line, half awake but mostly asleep and blanked her mind, instead concentrating on the feelings that flowing in and around her. Until the purring stopped. 

It wasn’t abrupt; more like a gradual drifting off, but Buffy noticed its absence immediately. There was only one problem; she could still distinctly hear purring coming from under her ear. Confused, now, Buffy forced herself to wake up just a little more so she could figure this all out. 

Angelus smiled as he felt her awaken and waited until she focused her search inward before making himself known. He knew she was confused, would have even if his essence wasn’t trapped inside her, and was determined to take this opportunity to forward his claim. Just because he wasn’t in his own body didn’t mean that he couldn’t have Buffy all to himself.

There was one small semi-flaw in his plan, and that was the seeming dependency Buffy had for blood. More specifically, for Angel’s blood. Maybe there was a way around it or maybe it was just that one time, or even during sex? Angelus wondered but decided to think on it later, maybe even have Buffy ask her watcher. 

Dependency on him was one thing, on the soul? Quite another and not at all acceptable. 

‘Buffy, baby, wake up.’ He waited as the words penetrated the haze around her and she looked to the sleeping form of Angel. Angelus growled softly as her hand reached out and traced the planes of his – Angel’s – face, along jaw and cheek, across forehead and down nose to his lips. 

He growled louder as she leaned down to kiss those lips and whisper, “I do love you,” to the still sleeping vampire. 

But then she stood and walked into the bathroom and didn’t look back to the bed. Angelus couldn’t help a moment of triumph at that. It was short lived when Buffy asked, “Are you always going to be this way?” 

‘What way is that, lover?’ He was smug and pleased that he had her full attention again. 

“That way, the smug arrogance that I can feel from you all the time now. And this whole conversation, I’m positive that it’ll seem to people that I’m talking to myself when in fact I’m…” Buffy trailed off and scowled as she turned the shower on and realized that was exactly what she was doing, “Talking to myself. Damn it.” 

Angelus laughed again and it felt to Buffy as if he were nestling into something plush and comfortable. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Apparently, though, even the thought was enough for the demon within to understand her. 

‘I have you all to myself now, baby. You are totally and completely mine. Even when you’re alone I’m here, day and night, night and day, there is never going to be a moment when I’m not with you, when I’m not inside of you. You wanted to know Angel’s greatest wish?’ Angelus asked as Buffy stepped into the shower and began to lather the soap he had had made especially for her. 

He paused a moment to revel in the feel of her hands gliding over her body, projecting images of his hands doing it instead and mentally smirked as Buffy gasped in arousal. He wasn’t controlling her, Angelus certainly didn’t have that ability, so much as letting her see images he wanted to happen. It wouldn’t have worked if she hadn’t been so willing. 

Shaking herself, Buffy finished washing her body and shampooed her hair, waiting for her demon – hers quite literally now – to finish his explanation. 

‘My greatest desire is you, and now I have you. Granted,’ he admitted ruefully, ‘I was hoping for the eternity together to be something more along the lines of you and I and the world, with me still in my body, but this is almost as good.’

Squeezing the excess water from her hair, Buffy stepped from the shower in search of a towel, not noticing her complete lack of regard for her nudity. Angelus, however, did and smirked again: Score one for the demon. 

“So you felt the need to turn me? Couldn’t just accept me as is, wanted to change me? Which, by the way,” she added and smirked at him, mentally as well as physically, “Didn’t exactly work. I’m too strong for something as quaint as that now; could have saved us all the trouble if you had realized that before.” Drying off, Buffy wrapped her hair in the damp towel and went, still naked, to find her clothes. 

‘I was banking actually on the slayer part of you to spark in you what that damnable soul did in me: the fierce devotion to your mate, the love that springs out of obsession. Much as I loathe my weaker half, he did bring me you. And it did work, partially,’ He went on, loving her distress, it was one of the many things he so enjoyed about her. And she was trying so very hard to not think on what had happened a few short hours ago.  

‘But,’ his voice changed here, became harder yet frighteningly calmer, ‘You should have told me, Buffy, EXACTLY what you did to yourself. Immortality? Really, baby, if you wanted to live forever all you had to do was ask, I’d have been more than happy to take care of that little problem for you. On a permanent and total basis.’ 

Buffy grimaced and refused to think on the fact that Angelus had succeeded on changing her, somehow. One more thing she’d push to the back of her mind until she figured out what those changes were…and if she survived long enough to care. Maybe it wasn’t permanent? Maybe…maybe she’d just die in the up coming battle and not have to deal with any of this. Could she still die? 

Immortal didn’t mean indestructible, but in her case, did it? Too many questions and no answers whatsoever. 

She again pushed all that away and focused on the here and now. Finding her bag, Buffy began quietly taking clothes out, glancing at Angel who slept on obviously exhausted, as she did so. Her face softened into a smile as she looked at him, peaceful, content, and she wondered how she had ever let him go. 

‘I believe you didn’t have a choice in the matter, Buffy” Angelus reminded her with a snarl, “He left you, despite my protests.’  

“Shut up, Angelus,” she whispered, “I have enough to deal with without you constantly showing me clips from our…from my…” this pronoun thing was harder than it looked and she finally finished with, “From the past.” Digging for some underwear, Buffy suddenly realized what she had packed. 

Oops.

Angelus, as he saw the contents of Buffy’s bag through her eyes, laughed loud and long. Oh, this was too good! ‘For me, baby? Hmmm,’ he sighed and mentally licked his lips, ‘I’m touched.’ 

“Oh, shut up, Angelus.” Buffy grumbled again as she began putting on her leather pants and tight blood-red silk tank top. She had originally packed skimpy underwear and tight – mostly leather – clothes incase she needed to seduce the demon. It turned out that she needn’t bother, he seduced her and was perfectly willing to do so, but now she was stuck. 

Damn. 

‘So what else have you in there, lover? Chains, whips…nipple clamps?’  

Buffy got the impression he was peaking over her shoulder, trying to force her to look through her bag, but she said aloud, anyway, “Kind of figured you’d already have those, lover. Why be redundant?” The hoot of laughter brought a reluctant smile to her face before Angelus realized what her subconscious mind was telling him. 

‘Not going back to Sunnydale after killing the First? Wouldn’t all your little friends be so disappointed? Too bad I can’t see their faces when they realize this; ahh, that’s a mental image worth savoring. Oops, but then again, they’re all dead, aren’t they?’ He taunted no longer bothering to hide his disdain for her friends now that he wasn’t going anyplace ever. ‘Oh, well. So what was your plan then? Come here, rescue that loser Angel, go back to fight the First, then leave again?’ 

“Something like that,” Buffy whispered softly, fresh sorrow at Willow’s death adding to the layer of guilt over Xander’s. Reluctantly she opened the satchel and her mind to Angelus, showing him all she had brought, all the keepsakes from their past. Why she had no idea, but it was better than this constant battery of questions. And the constant reminders of how she had failed her friends.

Her conversations with him were beginning to give her a headache and Buffy wondered how Angel survived for over a hundred years with it. 

“Something like what?” Angel asked as he turned automatically, a smile on his face, to the voice near the edge of the bed. 

Head snapping up to look into the turbulent eyes of her lover – she was going to have to think of new adjectives to describe Angel and Angelus now, this was getting ridiculous – Buffy smiled softly at Angel. She wished, oh how she wished things could be different. But they never were and wishing never changed anything, despite what Walt Disney and Rogers and Hammerstein wanted you to believe. 

“We have to leave,” Buffy said briskly instead, smile fading, eyes averting from his probing ones, as she closed the bag and stood, clutching it tightly in one hand. 

A few hours ago everything was fine, things were not okay, but had the potential to be so between them. Or maybe it was all in her head and Buffy only wanted to believe that it was all fine and that things between her and Angel would work out. Now, with sunrise still a few hours off and too many things to do between now and then and Angel looking about as tasty as he possibly could, Buffy just didn’t know. 

“There are too many things you need to know and I wish we had the time to go into detail, but we just don’t.” 

Nodding as he stood, Angel wished for more time to indulge in his lover, but things never played out as he wished. He was gloriously naked and Buffy had to stop herself from licking her lips, she felt her canines grow just a little and willed them back. No, she thought desperately; no please don’t do this to me. 

Who she was begging Buffy wasn’t sure, all the slayer knew was that it hadn’t been a one time thing this sudden and not welcomed at all need for blood, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was a blood thing so much as an Angel thing. Damn you, Angelus! She shouted to the demon within her, damn you for doing this to me!

The demon, for his part, was suspiciously – and smugly – quiet. 

Angel reached out for her, not sure what he intended, to touch her, comfort her somehow. Her face was a conflict of emotions and he could feel, physically feel, her pain. But Buffy stepped back jerking her head in the direction of the bathroom without meeting his eyes. “I-I’ll wait for you here, Angel…but hurry, we need to leave soon.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, “I’m sorry about Willow. She was a good person, a great friend. And…” grief over yet another fallen comrade, a fallen friend washed through the vampire and he finished somewhat lamely with, “I’m sorry.” 

“Thanks,” Buffy said and nodded, still not looking at him. But he could hear the tears in her voice and knew that she was doing everything she could to suppress the pain that came with the knowledge she wasn’t there to help her friend. Not ignore, no, never, just put it aside until there was time to cradle it, time to remember the good and the bad.

Angel hoped, as he watched her back stiffen and felt her pull herself together, that Buffy allowed him the chance to be there for her. As he needed her to desperately be there for him. 

Dropping his still outstretched hand, suppressing his hurt at her gesture, Angel nodded again and went to shower. During the twenty minutes it took for him to wash and dress, he thought about his new situation. There were still things that didn’t add up, but now that his head was marginally clearer he understood a lot more than before. 

Every deed he had done (Angelus, Angelus had done) during the past days and weeks crowded his brain but not quite in a sensory way. More as a distant memory that was trying to push its way through. Yet one more piece of proof that Angelus was no longer residing within his body. 

Usually the demon taunted the soul with sights and sounds and smells of all that had happened while Angelus had been in charge and on a rampage. 

No, he was now residing in Buffy’s body. In her luscious curves, in her soft sighs and (still) beating, loving heart. Angelus had everything that Angel had ever wanted; he was now a permanent part of Buffy in ways Angel could only dream, hope of being. Angelus got to be with her when she was waking and sleeping, in the daylight and when the moon was high. 

Jealously again slammed through Angel and he growled as he stalked to the huge walk-in closet and slipped on a pair of the comfortable leather pants that hung there and soft silk shirt. Not exactly his normal attire, but Angelus had very little else that wasn’t for his more important business meetings. And it was a little difficult to fight evil in Savile Row and Armani.

Turning once more to Buffy, he paused in what he was about to say, watching her for a few precious moments instead. Leather also adorned her body, hugging her curves and accenting her slim waist – too slim she had lost so much weight since last he saw her – and lush breasts. Obviously she had dressed with the purpose of seducing Angelus, they both (all three?) knew how much the demon preferred leather, specifically her in leather, but to Angel right at that moment, it didn’t matter; her clothing had the same effect on him as it did his former demon. 

She stared out the window, a soft smile on her face as she played with the claddagh ring on her finger. Unconsciously he twisted the matching ring on his left hand. 

An image of another ring cut through Angel and he renewed his vow that he’d get her back. She was his love and his life and there was nothing that was going to stop him from reclaiming her. Not even a former part of himself. 

“What’s he saying?” It was more demand then question and Angel could see it had caught her off guard. Knowing his demon as well as he did, Angel knew that Angelus was saying something to her – and again jealously burned through him – and he desperately wanted to know what it was. Buffy’s head snapped to the side at his words. 

Surprised, startled having not realized that Angel was out of the shower; how was that? Was Angelus’ presence clouding her sense of Angel? Or had she been so focused on what the demon was saying that she simply missed the cues? 

Not even considering dissembling, Buffy answered honestly Angelus’ last words, “Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.”  

Angel paused a beat and could have sworn he heard Angelus’ mocking laugh. The demon was reciting Christopher Marlowe? At a complete loss for words, Angel stared at Buffy for a moment longer, seeing her confusion at the new situation she now found herself, the longing – but was it for he, Angel, or Angelus? – and the need to believe Angelus’ words, his pledge to her.  

Oh, yeah, Angel’s jealously was strong, a choking grip that threatened to strangle him. Angelus was with Buffy all the time, and while Angel realized this earlier, now…now, this…it was all just reinforced. Too bad, Angel thought, too bad for Angelus. Angel wasn’t about to let his demon win once again; Angel would get Buffy back. There was no other option.  

The fact that the demon was reciting “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love,” while a little disconcerting, was no surprise. Angelus knew Buffy and now, being with her so intimately all the time, he knew her even more. Though Angel was sure words such as ‘wool’ was changed to ‘silks’ and such it didn’t change the general content nor the point Angelus was putting across.  

Only the finest for their mate, after all, and Angelus was never leaving her; Angelus seemed to be winning in both those departments and Angel was a distant second and he admitted that. But he vowed, once more, that it wouldn’t be for long, it wouldn’t be forever.  

“Poetry,” Angel said after a moment still looking into Buffy’s eyes as if trying to see all the secrets Angelus knew. “He…Christopher Marlowe?” Buffy shrugged, not entirely sure who Angelus was quoting and Angel thought it best to change the subject. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, once more picking up her bag. “We have to free your team first; we’re going to need them. We’re going to need all the help we can get, so if you know of any one else, feel free to contact them, too.” 

His team…Angel hadn’t really given them much thought since returning to his body mere hours ago, so focused was he on Buffy. He knew, now, he had done (Angelus had done) unspeakable things to them, to all of them. He had killed countless nameless humans over the days and weeks…and Fred. God, Fred… 

He had (Angelus had) tortured Wesley, Gunn, and Lorne, raped and tortured Cordelia. Only his son had escaped physically unscathed. Emotionally, Angel didn’t know but he was willing to bet that his relationship with Connor was going to need serious mending.

“I…” what could he possibly say that would make any of it right? Nothing, there was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do. 

“It wasn’t you, Angel.” Buffy said, placing a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing the muscle in a show of support. “They’ll know that. It wasn’t you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Ppst, it’s time, my pet.” 

Spike looked up through still slightly blurry eyes at his sire and lover. The past few days had been like old times between he and Dru, shagging, hunting, everything they had ever enjoyed together they indulged in once more. She hadn’t mentioned anything more about Buffy or Angelus and he hadn’t asked. 

He had healed over the days since Dru’s arrival but still wasn’t up to his full strength. As for his anger, at both Buffy for her desertion, and Angelus for his return, it was still there, simmering beneath the surface waiting for the right moment. 

“Time?” He asked, suddenly curious, “Time for what, ducks?” 

“The endgame, of course,” she said smiling at him, “What else?” 

“What do you know, Dru?” 

“The time has come,” she continued, with a dreamy smile on her face, her eyes sharp on his, “And the sides chosen; inside, outside, my side, your side. It can’t be turned back and it can’t be stopped.” 

Spike didn't understand beyond the fact that it had something to do with the First and Its plans, but he was willing to go with Drusilla’s flow, sure he’d understand in time. 

“The Queen has won and all her pawns are knights. Waiting, waiting, to strike.” She turned back to him, her smile now fierce and cunning. The cavern they were in was empty, the First nowhere in sight or sense. “We need to choose now, my Spike, choose which side of the game we’re on.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Not his fault, not his fault. It wasn’t he but Angelus. Could he make the distinction? And if he couldn’t could anyone else? 

“It wasn’t you, Angel.” Buffy repeated, squeezing his arm one last time. 

Nodding, even if he didn’t believe her words himself, Angel led the way to Connor’s room. It was the closest and Angel didn’t want to put it off any longer. He had been avoiding too many things with his son already, no point in adding this to the list.

Opening the door, Angel was unprepared for the sight that greeted him. Connor sat in the middle of the bed, serene as a Buddha, legs crossed in a yoga position and arms resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even. But that wasn’t what caught Angel’s attention the most. 

Behind him Buffy gasped as she saw what Angel was seeing. Moving to the side, Angel allowed Buffy to come into the room, both equally shocked. A stray thought flitted across her mind, ‘So this is Angel’s son,’ but was quickly dismissed; this so wasn’t the time for things like that. 

No matter the jealously that coursed through her, and Angelus’ thoughts on the matter, it wasn’t the time. It seemed he had had plans for the son, too. 

Any object not bolted down was, literally, floating around the room. 

“Your son’s a telekinetic?” 

“Not that I know,” Angel muttered as they watched Connor slowly open his eyes, their normal brown flashing with too many things – colors, feelings, knowledge – for the couple to discern. 

“Connor?” Angel asked somewhat hesitatingly. “Are you…okay son?” 

“Dad?” Shaking himself out of his trance, Connor looked at the vampire before him. He hadn’t been expecting any visitors. Doyle had said that Buffy was here and planning on doing the binding spell and there was that brief moment when he had sensed her, so Connor figured he had some free time to practice his newfound abilities. Apparently more time had passed than he realized. 

Then he, too, sensed it. Power, lots of it, maybe too much of it for one person to control. His eyes shifted to Buffy as the slayer continued to look on in silence. “You’re the slayer,” he said as if it were tattooed on her forehead for all the world to see. “I’ve heard of you; I take it the spell worked?” 

“Uh, yes?” How did this kid know about her spell? “Yes,” she said more firmly, “Yes it did. How did you know…?” 

“I finally realize what I’m here for, why I was created in the first place. I’m here to help you.” Connor said all this as he stood from the bed, the objects still floating around him as if connected to him. He walked to the small closet and dressed in Angelus approved and bought hunting clothes – all leather. It was better than nothing, Connor supposed. “And Angelus? He’s all tightly bound in you?” 

Buffy didn’t know how tightly that was, but Angelus was certainly inside her permanently. He mentally licked the closing scar on her neck at Connor’s question, just to prove that he was most definitely there. “He’s bound,” was all she said, ignoring the shot of lust that spread through her veins, still wondering how Connor knew any of this. And how it was that he could float objects seemingly with his mind. 

Willow would be so jealous. God, Willow…renewed determination raced through Buffy and she again vowed that the First would pay for her friend’s death. 

“Good to hear that. So,” Connor continued as if he hadn’t been a prisoner for days by his own father – or a part of him – and didn’t hate said father with all the passion in his young body. Stopping in front of the still staring couple Connor raised an eyebrow when they didn’t move. 

“Are we going to go get the rest of the gang? Have that big evil to fight and all.” 

Angel had yet to say anything, still staring at the boy who was his son. “Sure,” he muttered, still at a loss as to explain any of this. “Uh, Connor…?” At his son’s look he finished, “You’re still floating.” 

Connor looked at the vampire and slayer in confusion before looking behind him to where their eyes were again glued. Connor looked around in surprised at the various books, pens, pieces of paper and other small items that he had been practicing on. Sure enough, they were all still mid air, swirling around each other and himself. 

“Oh,” he mumbled, “Right.” 

Closing his eyes once more, and concentrating on the energies around him, Connor returned the objects to their original places and looked back to his father and his father’s mate – who was housing his father’s demon. This was only slightly confusing. Then again, there was just something unspeakably great about being able to see things others didn’t. This so beat being able to track beings with his normal senses. 

“Ready?” Connor asked, and when he went to move forward again Angel moved out of the way, Buffy backing up with him. When they continued to look at him, Connor sighed, ushering the still stunned couple down the hallway and this time and they followed. Connor walked down the hall to the dungeon-like room where knew that Gunn, Lorne, and Wes were kept. Might as well rescue them next. 

Back ramrod straight, posture all but cracking under the tension held within, Angel hesitated at the door. Connor noticed but didn’t say anything, waiting for his father to make his move as he placed his hand on the doorknob, waiting for someone to do something. 

Buffy moved beside Angel and entwined her fingers with his, lending whatever comfort and support she could. He smiled down at his love, grateful for her encouragement. 

Angel froze the second Connor opened the door. 

He couldn’t do this, couldn’t walk through that archway and face his friends. Couldn’t look at their faces and see the hatred they felt for him, the loathing and fear. So he stood there, staring into the brightly lit room and began to shut down. If he had been human, the word ‘shock’ would have been appropriate, but as it was, Angel couldn’t move, couldn’t function on the most basic of levels. 

Buffy stood beside him, not moving, not saying anything, just waiting for him to collect himself. His hand was colder than normal in her soft (still) warm one and she squeezed it, trying to convey some of her heat to him. Turning his head by degrees, as if in slow-motion, Angel looked down into the mossy green eyes of his love and mouthed, “Thank you,” a half smile forming on his face.

Letting Buffy lead the way, he nonetheless hung in the doorway and looked around the room. His memories might be blurred on what exactly he – Angelus – had done, but the basics were there. Details were quickly filling themselves in as well and Angel had to close his eyes against the onslaught.   

With Angelus no longer within him, why was he experiencing all the demon’s memories? One last present from Angelus? Angel didn’t know and was afraid to ask.

Wesley hung against one wall, scabs forming across his body. His chest and stomach were a mass of thin knife cuts, deep gouges, and bruises. His legs had never had a chance to heal properly and Angel doubted Wes would be able to walk again without a severe limp. 

Lorne was a pale, pale green, his normally bright red eyes, while opened, were a light pink, bordering on white. He lay limp in the shackles holding him upright, his head lolling to the side. The horns adorning either side of his head were just starting to grow back but his skin was peeling in various places, giving the Pylean a shedding reptilian look. 

Gunn, the only one awake and sane, fixed his eyes on the door. There was no expression in his dark eyes; his puffy lips didn’t curl into a sneer though he badly wanted to. Connor looked fresh and untouched, not happy, but…lighter if that were possible. What had happened to the normally angry young man that had changed him so much in the past few weeks? 

Had it really only been that short a time? Gunn didn’t know, having lost all track of just about everything during his captivity. 

The petite blonde holding Angelus – Angel’s? – hand was something else. She looked calm; her eyes were hooded from all emotion yet she grimaced every once in a while as if debating with herself. When she muttered, seemingly to herself, “You did this on purpose and don’t try and tell me otherwise, I know you did.” And, “I know your senses are better than mine; couldn’t you have had them bathed at least?” Gunn was sure she was crazy.

“Okay,” she said, turning a bright smile to the crowd when Angel made no attempt to do more than stand in the doorway. She understood his reluctance, honestly she did, having some strong idea of what Angelus had done to the men before her – somehow Angelus had managed to not show all his memories to Buffy and she was grateful.But she knew that the demon had taken months and years worth of rage out on those before them and could only imagine what Angel was going through. 

Time, however, was of the essence and they couldn’t wait for Angel to recover his equilibrium. 

“I’m Buffy and I’ll be your rescuer today. We have a really big bad to fight, the biggest of all big bads and I need everyone’s help. So. Who wants out?” 

“I’m in,” Gunn replied immediately, still casting wary looks at Angel/Angelus. He had decided that the vampire was Angel, what with the reluctance to enter the room and the guilt screaming from his eyes, but wasn’t about to take any chances. “So you’re Buffy. Huh. Nice to meet you.” 

Buffy turned to face the man who had spoken and smiled. “Gunn, right? Heard some things about you, too.” Then, shaking her head, Buffy scowled for a moment before saying, “Quit with the running commentary already. Right, then, ah…” What had she been saying? 

Angel shook himself out of his daze, taking control of his life once more. This was what he was going to stop, right? Letting others dictate what he did, what he said, all that. So this was the first step. “We need to get Gunn to the hospital. And…and Cordelia, too.” 

He remembered what he did to her as well, all too well. Shame burned through him at his (Angelus’) treatment of his friend; her wounds…her rape and humiliation. Those details were vivid, as if Angelus had left them specifically so Angel would know, in color, scent, and sound, what Cordelia had suffered. 

Buffy’s reaction was instantaneous. Angel wasn’t the only one with jealously issues; the emotion slammed through her as both a physical and emotional thing. Inside she seethed but the hurtful words she wanted to hurl at the vampire died on her tongue as she tried to control the impulse to wound him as his words had her. 

Proud of herself with the maturity she’d gained, Buffy took the keys from Angel, intent on freeing his team. And on not letting her (again former) lover see how he’d hurt her. 

Angelus, however, had other plans. ‘Look at that, lover,’ he purred to her, joy overwhelming him. If he had told Angel the words to say himself it couldn’t have gone better. ‘He’s worried for Cordelia but mentions nothing about Wesley who obviously needs more medical attention than our dear Gunn. One must wonder where his thoughts and feelings are, mustn’t they?’ 

Saying nothing she hadn’t already acknowledged, and maybe that was how Angelus worked but she didn’t want to think on that at the moment, Buffy couldn’t resist the snide comment in the face of her demon’s words. “Of course we mustn’t forget your Krumpet-Moira bullshit or was that destiny’s own love?” 

Physically pulling away from the surprised vampire, Buffy began releasing an equally surprised Gunn. “I don’t need a hospital,” Gunn said, his voice surprisingly strong. He was now casting wary looks at the slayer. “Just something’s ass to kick.” 

Buffy nodded, “Plenty of that to go around, trust me,” and resumed unchaining him only to hear Lorne mumble somewhat incoherently but loud enough for all present to understand from his prone position against the fall wall, “Kye-rumption soul bound warriors...” 

 Buffy’s eyes flash Angelus gold as she swung to look at Lorne, “You ever think, Kermit, there might be a reason I damn near skinned you alive?” 

She never realized her use of ‘I’ but everyone else did. Connor shook his head at her slip and hoped his father could help her through this Angelus thing she certainly was going to need it; Gunn resumed his wary glances at her and Angel cringed in shame. He knew what she had meant, knew that Angelus was actually saying those words through Buffy. 

“Buffy,” Angel began and even as he said her name, in that soft way only he had, he wasn’t sure of the rest of his sentence. He desperately wanted to explain about Cordelia for he knew that was the root of Buffy’s jealously, wanted to explain what he had done to the seer, but didn’t want to do so with everyone looking on. 

He wanted to know what Angelus said about Lorne and he wanted to try to understand Buffy’s (Angelus’) comments. More specifically, her choice of pronouns. Were they that intertwined that Angelus could speak through her?

But everything he wanted to say wasn’t for others, it was for the privacy of them only, of Angel and Buffy…and Angelus, but there seemed to be nothing the demon didn’t know. Again Angel cursed his (her) demon and tried again. 

“Buffy, wait, let me explain…” But again he stopped, trapped under the glares of his friends. And his son. Buffy, for her part, didn’t meet his gaze, concentrating very hard on the floor as she maneuvered Gunn towards the doorway. She was stronger then ever and didn’t need to concentrate of one human, but Buffy just couldn’t bring herself to look into the vampire’s eyes. 

“Smooth, dad, real smooth.” Connor said and went to unchain Wesley. “We can’t take Lorne to the hospital,” Connor continued, trying to override the ever escalating tension in the small room and knowing he wasn’t succeeding. “I think if we just take him down he should be okay in a few days. Leave water and food.” 

Like a dog, the boy wanted to say but didn’t. “We can’t take him with us to Sunnydale either, he’d only be a liability and I doubt the hospital would know what to do with him.” 

No one said anything so Connor took that as an agreement. He may have realized a few things about his father, but Connor still didn’t like the green-skinned demon one damn bit; he was quickly realizing, however, that it fell more under the heading of ‘didn’t trust’ than anything to do with warm fuzzy feelings. He looked to Angel and noticed his father staring at the blonde, a look of utter desperation on his face. 

Maybe all hope wasn’t lost for Angel. 

And then Connor’s gaze shifted to Buffy who had a look of fierce concentration on her face though Connor had no doubt that she could easily move Gunn. Hmm, problems there, but that could have more than something to do with Angelus. And jealously.

Feeling his eyes on her, Buffy raised her head, still careful not to look at Angel and nodded her agreement. Seems she didn’t like and or trust Lorne, either. Connor wondered how many scenes from Angelus’ reign had leaked into Buffy’s subconscious. 

Sighing once, Angel walked over to Lorne, taking him down from the wall and maneuvering the incoherent demon into Connor’s bedroom. Laying him on the bed, Angel walked out without a backwards glance. If he was to set things right – with Connor, with Buffy, but most of all with himself, in his life – then he needed to start someplace.

And that first place was in not listening to others. And doing what was best for himself, for he and Buffy. 

Lilah blocked his exit.

Hatred add itself to the already abundance of emotions that crowded within Angel at the sight of the last remaining Earth based lawyer associated with Wolfram & Hart and the vampire couldn’t control his reaction. Wrapping his hand around Lilah’s neck he slammed her against the nearest wall, ramming her head again, just because, growling the whole time. 

“Still skulking the hallways, Lilah?” he asked, neither knowing nor caring if she realized it was Angel rather than Angelus. “I’d have thought a realistic woman like yourself would realize when to disappear.” 

Cool eyes met his hard golden ones. Rather then answer his taunt, Lilah said, “I pledged my loyalty to you, Angelus, and since there’s no Wolfram & Hart for me to fall back on, looks like I'm stuck sticking to my word.” 

“I’m going to tell you this once and only once, Lilah, so listen well.” Angel threatened, listening for Buffy and hoping Lilah scurried away before Buffy realized the lawyer was in the penthouse. “Leave. Now. Don’t look back, don’t think on the past, run as far and as fast as you can and hope that you can really disappear. If I ever find you, if I ever so much as hear your name, I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you had stayed lost.” 

Angel’s grip tightened and he leaned closer to the woman, eyes flashing golden-red, “Understand me?” 

Lilah gave an abbreviated nod, it was hard to move one’s head when it was pinned to the wall, and gasped out, “I understand…Angel.” 

Whatever, Angel thought, so long as she left he truly didn’t care that she knew Angelus was no longer in charge of the body. Lilah looked like she wanted to ask how it happened but Angel heard Buffy moving closer to the door, Gunn in tow. 

“Now, Lilah,” Angle repeated and released her. “If I ever see you near me and mine again, you’ll pray to have Angelus back by the time I’m through with you.” 

She sagged against the wall for a moment but picked herself back up quickly enough and left. Angel devoutly hoped it was the last he’s see of the horny lawyer; hell, even Angelus didn’t want to so much as touch her. 

Buffy was behind him. Without even moving, Angel knew that she was there and had witnessed at least part of the exchange between he and Lilah. Turning around, he nailed Buffy with his gaze but the damage was already done; she didn't trust him before, now it was only worse. Angelus, the only real competition Angel ever had to fear, was no doubt not helping and Angel’s luck seemed to be completely against him. 

“Buffy, baby, I can explain…” Angel began but was cut off by her laughter. 

Her eyes dilated as she got that look on her face he was beginning to recognize and hate. It meant Angelus was at it again, under cutting him from within and from the look of raw pain in her eyes, Angel could just imagine what the demon was telling her now.  “Christ another whore from your harem Angel?” He voice was brittle and she looked as if she’d break any second, but she continued, “More and more staying away for my happiness is looking a lot like it was for your happiness.” 

Buffy mentally cringed at her words; that wasn’t like her. She drew a calming breath; thick silky lashes lowered shielding her eyes a second before she turned her face away hiding her expression as well. It may not be like her, but Angel’s actions still hurt more than anything she had ever experienced. 

“Hey you know what no biggie really it’s none of my business; you made your position clear a long time ago. I’m more than aware I have no rights to anything where you’re concerned.” 

Her tone was flat and resigned and Angel flinched at both her words and the way she delivered them. What had he done to the one person he had vowed never to hurt? Too much, he silently acknowledge, too damn much. 

“Lets just forget it, Angel I was out of line; my life isn’t in any great shape that I can lecture anyone else about theirs. Forever? Always?” She laughed raggedly at her own wording, amazed that she still had the capability to be hurt so much by the man before her. “What a...” shaking her head she stopped. 

Walking back to Buffy he tilted her chin until she had no choice but to look at him. “I’m going to free Cordelia,” he began with no inflection in his voice. This wasn’t the time to get into all the things between them and they both knew it. “Because I have to after what I did to her…. We’ll drop her and Wes off at the hospital then head directly to Sunnydale.” 

So saying he walked into the room his friend was chained in and set about freeing the mostly incoherent seer. She thrashed about on the filthy bed, moaning her pain, and while she couldn’t voice her need, another mark against him Angel had no doubt it was for him to stop, no more, please, that she was begging Angelus to just let her be. Or, failing that, to just kill her and get it over with.

Guilt, shame, remorse flooded Angel as he stood in the same room he had mutilated his friend in, but he resolutely said nothing and simply unchained her. Turning towards the door, he locked eyes with Buffy as she stood there, watching him. Guilt shone through, guilt for each of the actions committed by his hands, his body, but all he said was, “We’ll be brief, and leave directly from the hospital. I think we’ll need two cars so we can take as many weapons as possible.”

Cordelia’s eyes opened and she moved a hand to the vampire’s arm, her own face a question she could no longer voice. The movement broke whatever tentative truce lay between the lovers as Angel’s attention, taken completely off guard, swung back to the woman on the bed. 

“Yeah, Cordy, it’s me, I’m sorry…” he whispered to the woman who had suffered at his hands then turned back to Buffy. “Buffy-” 

Her mood swung again with a suddenness and severity that sent chills down his spine and, unless he was loosing his mind, her eyes were the visible clues: the flashing gold forewarning each emotional outburst. Angelus in his single-minded ruthless determination to severe any and all ties between Angel and Buffy left even he who had spent a century knowing and anticipating Angelus every thought or action floundering helplessly to countermand.   

“Save it, Angel,” the slayer said, angered again. She was developing a massive migraine from both Angel’s pleadings and Angelus’ tauntings, added to her worry over Willow and those in Sunnydale, Buffy had had enough. 

“Just save it; you want to be there for Cordelia? Be my guest; you should be there for someone I suppose, right? You never were for me; at least Spike was there when I died and when I came back. Angelus tells me you were too busy in another dimension dragging your strumpet oh, I’m sorry that was crumpet, or maybe Kye-rumption? Or whatever lame excuse you used, you drug her back here when she didn’t need to be saved much less want to return. Thanks, that shows me where I rate in importance lover...”

It was nearly simultaneous. Angel’s eyes went blood red with anger, he stalked toward her, grabbing her shoulders in a bruising grip and roared his frustration over her indiscretion with Spike. Angelus, while not in the strictest sense having eyes, roared nearly the same thing from within her mind.

“You and SPIKE? You and SPIKE? I’m going to kill that worthless piece of childe, rend him limb from limb and laugh as he begs for final death…!”

The canopy was so loud Buffy was only dimly aware of what was being said and she just couldn’t take it. “Shut up!” She screamed, wrenching free of Angel’s arms and bringing her hands to cover her ears. 

“Both of you just shut up! I may have screwed Spike in despair but Angel; you nailed Darla, don’t forget. And Cordelia…? What was the first epiphany if not to not do it again? And you, Angelus, you shut up, too! You’re the poster child for having sex with anything that’s not nailed down and probably that too; you’d find it a kinky variation. So don’t you dare thump your chests and go Conan the Vampire on me you hypocrites!” 

Whirling to where Connor was waiting with Gunn and Wesley, Buffy snapped, “Come on, Connor, if you’re coming. We have a Blood Harvest to try and stop with to without the so-called souled vampire and I’ve had just about enough of your father and his demon’s domestic debacles for one day” And so saying, Buffy stalked out, leaving Angel alone with Cordelia and a pressing anger with no one to vent on. 

Too bad Buffy couldn’t outrun Angelus; he was always going to be there. 

Angel turned back to Cordelia and lifted her into his arms. In the several seconds it took for him to exit the penthouse, Buffy had disappeared. 

She wasn’t in the hall or in any of the rooms. 

She wasn’t near the elevator or the lobby. 

She wasn’t on the street outside the building and Angel noticed that her car, which Angelus had had moved from the Hyperion, was missing.

“Damn the woman,” he growled, noticing that Wesley was already in his car, obviously waiting for Angel. “Damn her, she left. And didn’t even give me a chance to explain.” 

Placing Cordelia in the front seat Angel peeled out of the parking garage and towards the nearest hospital. It took him several blocks to realize, in his fog of anger and guilt, that Gunn and Connor had indeed left with Buffy.

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