She crashed on top of the kitchen countertop. 

Too exhausted to move, Faith stretched out, pillowing her head on her arms, and fell into a deep sleep. Being a slayer had taught her to get sleep when you could; being in jail taught her to sleep deep but lightly – of course slaying did that as well, wasn’t she life just full of fun experiences. It all worked to her advantage when she heard footsteps in the room. 

They were quiet, but Faith woke instantly anyway. She stayed perfectly still, keeping her breathing even and waited to see what the owner of those footsteps did. She was unprepared for the blanket that gently fell atop her and the sound of the refrigerator door opening. 

Jerking her head up, she looked into the equally startled eyes of Gunn. 

“Oh,” he said obviously, “Sorry, I thought you were asleep. Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Shaking her head, both in denial of his words and to clear the sleep from her muddled brain, Faith said, “No, no you didn’t. I’m good.” Hopping off the counter she peaked over his shoulder. “Want to make some of those for me?” 

Nodding, Gunn pulled the bag of frozen ravioli out of the freezer and dumped half the economy sized bag into a huge bowl before placing the bowl in the microwave. Grabbing a jar of sauce from the refrigerator, he waited for Faith to grab two glasses before pouring iced tea into them. 

“Never figured Angel for a microwave,” Faith said as they waited in uncomfortable silence for the pasta to cook. “Too updated for him and all.”

“He has one at the hotel,” Gunn shrugged, “Why wouldn’t he here?” 

“Different times, I guess,” the dark haired slayer said, turning to study the man next to her, “He was different then, when he lived here.” There was a lot she didn't know about Angel, but then again, the same could honestly be said for everyone here. None of them had ever really taken the time to get to know one another. Not really. 

The timer beeped and Gunn grabbed the bowl, scowling at the heat coming off it. Dumping half on Faith’s plate and half on his, he handed her the jar of insta-sauce and dug in. 

“I understand,” Faith said abruptly wondering where the hell those words came from as she took another bite from her ravioli. “I understand what it’s like to feel the kind of rage you’re feeling.” 

Gunn looked at her askance but was silent for a moment as he chewed. He had heard all about her, or as much as Cordelia let spew in a venom filled diatribe; considering she was the one to suggest the jailed slayer he was slightly surprised at that. Wes hadn’t said much, but hadn’t refuted Cordy’s words, either. 

Conspiring with a demon against her friends, murder, attempts on Angel’s life. Jail. 

Still, Angel had accepted her, tried to help her. Before the whole loss of soul thing that was. Could he? Gunn wondered, but had no answers for himself. 

“I guess you do, yeah.” Gunn said and they sat in silence for a bit. 

“The problem is,” he suddenly continued, “That I know there’s a difference between Angelus and Angel. And I know that it was Angelus who did these things to me, who beat me and tortured me. Who did unspeakable things to Wes and Cordelia and Lorne. Who…” He choked here then, “Who killed Fred.” 

“But you don’t care,” Faith guessed. “You don’t care that they’re basically two different people and that one would never hurt your friends and the other would take the greatest pleasure in doing so.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed and looked back at his plate. Food no longer held any appeal to him though he knew his body was going to need it. Still, he couldn’t make himself eat any more. 

“And,” Faith went on, “You want very much to kill Angelus but since he’s now in Buffy, you can’t. Can’t hurt him without hurting her even if you could find a way to get to him.” 

“Yeah,” Gunn said again and wondered if Angel would allow himself to be beaten up a little. Just enough to release some of the raging tension that coiled through Gunn. 

“Believe me, Gunn, you don’t want to let that fester. Even if you have to take all that anger out on the demons we’re about to fight, you really want to find some kind of release for that rage you’re feeling.” 

“Yeah,” he said for the third time. “I know. Maybe we’ll meet that army you’re talking about. That’ll give me enough demons to fight, right?” 

Faith scowled but her eyes were lost, hurt. “Yeah, plenty of.” 

They sat together for a little longer, talking about nothing much, making plans to visit Vegas after this harvest thing was over. Faith wondered, but didn’t say anything, about Angel and Buffy upstairs. 

“Faith,” Buffy said from the kitchen doorway, not wanting to interrupt what looked like quality bonding time with Gunn and not wishing to waste any more of what little time remained. 

“B, hey, you’re awake.” Faith smirked and added, “I hear you and Angel got into it last night. Anything you want to tell us?” 

“Not really, no,” the blonde smiled knowing exactly what her sister slayer was asking. Running a hand through her hair, she paused as the late afternoon light glinted off the claddagh ring she still wore. The matching ring encircled Angel’s finger declaring them wed, declared them each other’s in the most primitive sense. And even after last night, even after all the hurtful things they both shouted at each other, neither removed their rings. 

Of course, hers was magickally enhanced and she couldn’t remove it, but Buffy was confident there was a way…should she feel like looking that was. She didn’t. The claddagh bound her to Angel as surely as it did Angelus. Buffy couldn’t bring herself to remove that symbol. 

“Do we have any food?” She asked instead, bringing her attention back to the couple still staring at her. They, too, noticed the ring. Faith knew what it meant, having heard about Buffy’s dream. Gunn stared at it, wondering who gave it to her: Angelus or Angel. 

Nodding, Gunn went to the fridge and pulled out the frozen ravioli and the jar of instant sauce he had put back. “I’ll heat it up if you want,” he volunteered, still giving her sly sideways looks as she sat on one of the stools surrounding the island. “How are you feeling?” 

Buffy’s head jerked up at his question but she answered as honestly as she could, “Fine, sleep does wonders.” 

Faith didn’t look convinced but waited until Gunn placed the bowl of microwaved pasta before Buffy. Her eyes caught his and he nodded once, moving out of the room without another word. “Now tell me the truth, B. How are you really feeling?” 

“Fine, Faith,” Buffy reiterated, taking a bite of the square ravioli she speared with her fork, “I’m just…fine.” 

Snorting her disbelief, Faith tried again. “You may be able to lie to Giles and Dawn, and they might even believe you, the potentials know nothing, certainly nothing about who and what you are now. Angel knows, I’m sure, and am equally sure that he’s none too happy about it.  But it’s me, B, so spill.” 

Swallowing, Buffy shrugged, “Nothing to tell, really. I did the spell, it worked, and I came back here.” 

“So Angelus is all bound up nice and snug inside you then,” Faith said, that smirk still in place. “How’s that feel?” 

“Strange,” Buffy said without hesitation. “Like I have this whole other person inside of me who can speak whenever he wants, say whatever he wants, it’s…I don’t know how to describe it, really.” 

‘Come now, lover,’ Angelus said, speaking for the first time in hours, ‘It’s simple enough. I’m here and never going anyplace. And you love it.’  

Buffy ignored him, firmly pushing him back down and locking the lid on her emotions. She really didn’t feel like channeling Angelus at the moment. 

Faith wanted to ask more; she wanted to know both what it felt like to have all the powers of all the slayers and how it felt to have your own personal demon. But she wasn’t sure how to ask and frankly wasn’t sure she truly wanted to know. In theory it may seem wicked cool to have the sexy demon within you, but in practice she doubted Buffy was having all that much fun. 

“The girls and I have been training,” she said instead, “Some are on watch now with Connor. It’s almost nightfall, whatever the First has planned; I don’t think It’s going to wait much longer. I have a bad feeling about it.” 

Nodding, Buffy took her empty plate to the sink and washed it. The sleep had done wonders and, while she didn’t want to admit it, so had Angel’s blood. The pasta had been decent, but Buffy was still antsy. She was missing something, something besides her toothbrush, she thought as she ran her tongue over her top teeth. 

“I know,” she agreed absently, “Whatever this harvest is it’s happening soon; Connor agrees. Have you found anything else out about it?” 

“No,” Faith shook her head, “And most of our research was bombed with your house. Sorry about that, by the way. They struck without warning. We weren’t expecting an army of Turok’s and…I’m sorry about Willow.” 

“I know, Faith,” Buffy whispered, tears again pooling in her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, I know it wasn’t.” 

Uncomfortable with Buffy’s sudden tears, Faith tried desperately to think of a change of subject. “Ah, so, training. We’ve been working on coordination, stakes, and crossbows. Oh, and hand to hand; that’s a little trickier. They’re not so good at that.” 

Buffy let out a small laugh and turned to face her sister slayer. “I imagine. Have you heard anything of Spike?” 

“No, not a peep. There was a rumor about him the other day, but nothing concrete. Something about him being evil again, but I’m not really sure about that. Didn’t you say he had a chip and a soul?” 

“Yeah, but that might not mean much, I suppose.” Just then she felt it, that thing that was missing, the part she knew was just out of her reach. Angel walked into the room. Buffy was not surprised. 

“Having a soul doesn’t mean much,” he said to both women but his eyes held Buffy’s. “It’s what you do with it that counts.” 

Faith nodded, standing to give Angel a hug. “Angel, man, it’s good to see you back. So, ah, how’s it feel?” 

Tearing his eyes away from Buffy’s, he looked to Faith. “How does what feel?” 

“Your soul, man, how does it feel to be the only on in your body?” 

“Different, strange. I’m not used to it just yet.” He admitted as his eyes locked with Buffy’s again. 

“Right then,” Faith said, not wanting to witness anything between the lovers, “I think we should wake the others, let them know you’re back and ready to kick some serious First ass.” 

She stood and made to move out of the kitchen, mumbling. “And let you take over this leader bullshit. I see now that it’s not as great as people say.” 

“You’re doing fine, Faith,” Buffy said softly but both she and Angel heard her. “You’re a great leader and I’m proud of you. You kept everyone together despite…despite the odds. You’re only just beginning.” 

“Hell no, B. I’m done. You lead. Please.” 

Angel stared at Buffy for another moment then, without saying a word, moved to stand next to his beloved. Taking her hand, entwining her fingers with his, he lent her whatever strength she’d accept from him. 

“You know what needs to be done, Faith,” he said and smiled at the younger slayer. “You know what can happen and how to prevent that. You’re perfect for the job.” 

And then Faith got it. She understood just what was happening. They were both leaving. She wanted, desperately, to rage at them, yell, scream, tear into them for leaving her. Buffy, she knew, had already planned on not coming back. Angel, she should have figured, would follow her. 

Damn you, she wanted to say, damn you both for deserting me like this! Damn you for leaving me to the next generation of recruits. Damn you for giving me this burden. 

But she didn’t. With difficulty Faith held her tongue and nodded. It was time, she supposed, that Buffy gave up her position of slayer; even if she was The Slayer now. Faith was the line now. And she, no matter how much she detested it, was responsible for the future. 

“I hate you both,” she said but there was a smile in her voice even if she was scowling. “I really, really do.” With that she turned and walked out of the kitchen, yelling to the room at large to wake the hell up already. Time was a-wasting. 

Bringing their joined hands to his lips, Angel said, “She’ll be fine, beloved. Faith’s a strong woman; she was strong enough to change, she’ll be strong enough to continue on.” 

Buffy nodded, just barely resisting the urge to let his strong arms wrap around her, let herself, if only for a moment, be comforted by his embrace. But she didn’t move, couldn’t. Fear still ran through her, not of Angel, never of him, but of what could be should she open that last lock on her heart and let him back in. 

And Angelus purred with pleasure, a smirk none could see gracing his quintessential face. His spirit-like eyes gleamed with malice and possession. Buffy was still his, no matter how close Angel got. 

Angel didn’t hold her though he ached to. Instead he brought his free hand to her face, cupped her cheek and lightly kissed her lips. “I love you,” he said. Then, “You may be afraid to trust me again, but I swear to you this time will be different. You may not believe me, but it’s the truth. And if I have to spend the rest of eternity proving that to you then that’s what I shall do.” 

She said nothing, couldn’t, but smiled at him, a soft smile that accepted his words even if she didn’t fully believe them. 

“We better get out there, there’s still much to do and time is short.” 

Angel nodded and they walked into the great room together. Still hand in hand. 

Connor had waited until his father and Buffy joined them. He wasn’t sure what their reactions were going to be and was a little frightened to find out, but it had to be done. Still, he waited until Buffy and Faith ran through the plan for the rapidly coming night. 

“There will be no splitting up. I don’t care what any of you think you might be able to accomplish, how good you think you are, they’re better and I repeat: there will be no splitting up.” Buffy said with a fierce look around the group. She ignored Angelus’ commentary of easy meals and looked to Faith. 

The other slayer nodded and Buffy continued. “We have two goals tonight, the first is to stay alive, the second is to find where the First and his goons are hiding.”

“I may be able to help with that,” a new voice said and was greeted by two dozen weapons trained on him. “Well,” Robin said as calmly as he could. “Nice welcome.” 

“Principle Wood?” Dawn asked, “What are you doing here? And how did you find here?” 

“Came to see how it was going, Buffy, since I haven’t seen you since you quit. Under really mysterious circumstances, might I add,” Robin did add but since no explanation was forthcoming, he continued, “I saw your house – nice crater – and was wondering if you needed any help,” he said. “I followed the path of destruction; led right to this place. Nice digs, by the way.” He added, turning to Buffy, “Yours?” 

Buffy shrugged but no one said anything until Connor spoke up, asking, “Who are you?”   

“The principle of Sunnydale High and Buffy’s boss – former boss,” he answered the boy, then when Buffy, Giles, Dawn and Anya continued to look at him, “The son of a slayer. You?” 

Since ‘the son of a vampire’ didn’t seem to be what the other man was asking, he answered simply, “Connor.” 

Dawn filled in the blanks for him though it probably wouldn’t help, “He’s Angel’s son.” 

Robin looked to the man standing next to Buffy, hovering almost protectively near the petite slayer. “You must be Angel, then,” he said, figuring it was his best guess. “Nice to meet you.” 

He refrained from adding that the other man looked too young to have had a child Connor’s age. What was it with these people? And did he really want to know? “I think I might know where the First is hiding out, Buffy.” 

Motioning to an empty spot on the couch, Buffy asked, “How do you know?” 

“Think,” Robin clarified, “I think I know. Saw a pair of vamps going into the caves near the edge of town. I followed them but lost them in the labyrinth there. On my way back out I spotted a rather large army of demons that were talking to…” the principle looked confused here. “Well, Buffy, it looked like they were talking to you, actually.” 

“The First,” Angel said with confidence. “It has the ability so shift forms, take on the physical appearance of anyone who is…” He really didn’t want to finish that sentence, but it looked like he was going to have to; Robin and the potentials were looking at him expectantly. “Anyone,” he finished, “Who has died.” 

“Buffy’s not dead.” Robin stated with conviction and then looked at her, “Are you?” 

“Ah, well, not at the moment, no. But I was and I guess that was enough for It.” She shrugged though she could feel both Angel’s and Angelus’ anger and helplessness over her death. Nice to know she was loved and missed. 

‘Only I, lover, am allowed to kill you. And that stupid bitch Glory should have known that; you should have known that. And the First better damn well remember that.’  

He wasn’t helping, so Buffy ignored him. “The point is, Robin, that it wasn’t me. Who were the two vamps you followed? And how did you know who they were?” 

His eyes, usually so bright and animated, hardened here, his full lips thinned into a straight line, his whole posture tensing. “One of the killed my mother.” 

“Oh,” Buffy murmured, “I’m sorry.” 

Angel stiffened, but no one said a word. Unless the First was importing some of the older vamps – and that was entirely possible – there was only one vampire in Sunnydale, besides him (Angelus) that had ever killed a slayer. 

“Spike,” he whispered just loud enough for Buffy to hear him and when she jerked around to face him, he looked her in the eye and nodded. “He’s the only one, it makes sense.” Louder, he asked the newcomer, “What did the two look like?” 

“He was blonde, obviously dyed, swaggering like he owned the town, she was dark haired, willowy, I guess you’d describe her, frail looking. And,” he added, again perplexed, “Possibly crazy.” Directing the question at Buffy he asked, “Is it possible for a vampire to be crazy?” 

No one said anything for a full minute, digesting all that Robin had described. It was Angel who choked out, “It’s possible, if…if they’re crazy before they’re turned.” 

Buffy slipped her hand into his, squeezing it in support and comfort. Oh, yeah, her heart was in trouble. Those exalted walls were already a-crumbling, who was she kidding? 

When Angelus stirred, jealously and pride coating him, Buffy swore silently, ‘One word, Angelus, and I swear, I’ll find some way of seeing you spend the rest of eternity inside Spike.’  

‘Now, now, lover, you know you’d miss me.’ Smug, arrogant; and entirely too right, egotistical bastard.  ‘Besides, the way that pathetic specimen of a vampire is going, you’ll stake him before finding a way to carry out that little threat. Now Dru, on the other hand…’  

Jealous rage coated Buffy’s vision for a second and her eyes flashed golden. Angel, sensing the shift in her emotions and pulling her closer, tried to sooth her before she said or did something she’d regret. He wondered, as Buffy settled into his embrace, visibly calming, if it were possible to get to Angelus without Buffy being in the way. Doubtful, but the world was full of possibilities. 

Robin was looking at them funny but said nothing. He already knew this was a strange bunch, the little display before him only reinforced that. 

“Can you take us back to those caves?” Giles asked, desperately glad for a diversion. 

“I think so, yes.” 

“Good, good,” the Englishman said, “Then we had better leave soon. Sunset is immanent and it would be to our advantage to have sunlight as an escape route.” 

Connor spoke up just then, “We have to wait for Cordelia and Wesley.” As all eyes swiveled to him, the youth shrugged. “All I know is that Doyle said we had to wait for them.” 

“Doyle?” Angel questioned his voice slightly hoarse. “Doyle’s dead, son.” 

“True,” a new voice added, appearing so suddenly he took the whole group by surprise and again the mass of weapons was trained on the newcomer. “But what’s a little death among friends? Like that’s ever stopped anyone before.” 

Angel looked, Buffy thought, like he was about to faint. Considering what he had seen and done, that was saying something. 

“Doyle?” 

“It’s me, Angel, in the almost there flesh.” He flashed a grin at the ensouled vampire. “And look at you,” his Irish brogue deepened. “All demon-free and soulful; how’s that feeling, buddy?” 

“Strange,” Angel admitted, still in that hoarse unbelieving voice, “Nice.” 

“Good, good. And you, Miss Buffy,” Doyle turned to the slayer he had met but that one time. “I see you’ve survived that little spell; how are you feeling?” At Buffy's silent stare, Doyle tried again, “You know lass that was a very brave thing you did.” Sill nothing but that cold watchful stare. No wonder she was the best slayer ever. 

Shrugging Doyle said, “Now then, down to business; the lad’s right, you have to wait for Delia and the Watcher.” He glanced at Giles and altered his sentence, “The other Watcher. Everyone has a part in this little drama and it can’t begin until they all arrive.” 

Just then there was a knock on the door. Considering no one had bothered to knock on any door is too long, it took the group a while to move. Dawn finally did, flinging the door wide open and hoping out of the way of the dozen of weapons pointed there. 

Cordelia and Wesley had arrived. 

Anya sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Christ we have two more pieces of dead weight we have to protect. At least there are a lot of potentials, sheer numbers and all, and they can almost fight.” 

“Oh, this keeps getting better and better,” Buffy mumbled as everyone gaped at the newcomers. 

Anya stopped whatever else she was going to say at Buffy’s words, though no one but she and Angel seemed to hear them, and murmured instead, “Whoa, someone hates her more than I do.” 

Buffy ignored her as did everyone else. 

But then the slayer looked, really looked at the pair. Wesley she had seen before; had seen the abuse inflicted upon her former watcher by Angelus. It didn’t make her happy, but she knew the demon better than anyone and frankly had expected something like what Wesley bore. But Cordelia…May the goddess have mercy, what had he done to the woman? 

“What did you do?” She whispered, forgetting that she didn’t have to speak aloud to communicate with her demon. “What in the name of God did you DO?” 

Angel wasn’t looking at his friends (former friends?) he couldn’t; his eyes were focused on a point beyond the door as Angelus’ memories assaulted him. But when Buffy asked her question, he thought she was asking him. Him, Angel; that she blamed him for the condition of Cordelia and Wesley. His eyes, a pain filled brown, jerked to hers; but she was still staring at the couple Dawn was just now ushering through the doorway. 

She wasn’t asking him. She was asking Angelus. 

Locking eyes with Angel, Buffy asked voice tearful, almost…scared, “What did he do?” 

Without conscious thought, Angel wrapped his arms around her and held her closely. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said, not knowing what else there was to say. 

‘Oh, get off it soulboy,’ Angelus growled, knowing the secret was up but wanting to put his own spin on this as quickly as he could. ‘It was deliciously fun and she was such a screamer! Her blood was slightly tainted, all that aborted goodness; honestly, did the Powers really think someone like her could be ‘good’ enough to become a higher being? Not in any lifetime. Just because,’ he added slyly, ‘You were all ‘in love’ with her didn’t mean I felt one damn thing but contempt for the tramp.’  

Silent sobs wracked Buffy’s body for a moment, her slight figure hidden from view by Angel’s larger body as she ignored Angelus. She couldn’t deal with him at the moment; not after this revelation. 

She had spent three nights in his arms, had stayed in his penthouse with Angel’s friends in almost the next room, she had knowingly and willingly screwed the demon and not once, never once had she stopped to consider the full extent of what that demon had done to these people. 

She had seen the evidence on Gunn, but knew Angelus got off on torture. Gunn could still walk and talk, didn’t seem broken or cut up as Wesley did, wheelchair bound as he was. Didn’t seem as shattered and starved as Cordelia – goddess, what had he done? 

“Why?” She asked, but already knew the answer. “Why?” 

He had done it because he could.

Angelus knew that it would hurt Angel, knew that the second biggest threat to his continued existence was Angel’s LA team. Because Angel’s darkness was always meant for the demon and Angel’s anger, Angelus’ invitation. Not that Angelus ever waited for an invitation, but Angel kept that anger on a tight reign; Angelus didn’t. Angelus had exacting standards and those worthy in his eyes always faired better than those that were not.  

That was why Gunn and Connor had survived relatively intact.  

The ‘miracle’ child, whether from Angel or Angelus still came from the same body and was something to mold, not destroy. And Gunn had only ever proven himself worthy as a fighter. He never tried to interfere with Angel’s personal life – except that one little indiscretion that was dubbed ‘The Darla Incident.’ But even Angelus could admit – with a sly grin no doubt – the soul needed more help than usual that year.  

The first threat to Angelus’ continued existence was her, Buffy, but she had proved herself worthy long ago with his first appearance. Still she had an advantage the others did not; Angelus’ twisted version of love, his passion tempered what his course of action for her would be this time. Still had she done anything to stop him?  

No, she had screwed him over and over, reveling in the sensations he brought out in her, crying out his name in passion, lust, and even love.  

Was she punishing herself now because she had a plan and stuck to it letting nothing rock the boat once she committed to this course of action? Or was it because she felt no guilt at the love and satisfaction she found in her lover’s arms while she went through with the plan?

And believing, because he offered her honesty, he would automatically tell her everything. 

He hadn’t and she hadn’t asked. 

She should have known; the anger in Angelus’ voice and eyes when he mentioned them, Angel’s friends, should have warned her but it didn’t. And because the line forming of things for her to take care of, handle, or fix, most especially this next apocalypse, was a long one she hadn’t pushed; speed had been of the essence.  

“Buffy, baby, look at me.” Angel tilted her head upward, knowing what she was feeling: betrayed, torn, hurt. Angry. 

When she did, her eyes were haunted. “I didn’t know, Angel, I swear I had no idea he did this. I mean I figured he did something, but…” A single tear leaked from her eyes and that was somehow more potent than a river of them. “I’m sorry, oh, God, I’m so sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Buffy, you know that.” He pulled her back into his arms, ignoring the total silence that enveloped the room behind him. “It wasn’t your fault, love, it wasn’t your fault.” 

Long moments passed, minutes they really didn’t have to spare before Buffy composed herself and the couple faced the uncomfortable group. Giles wouldn’t meet their eyes; Dawn hovered as though uncertain if the comfort she so desperately wished to give would be welcomed. Faith looked like she wanted to take the last few minutes, and the arrival of the LA couple, off the face of the earth forever. 

Guilt still radiated through Angel looked like he wanted to take a tentative step towards his friends but decided against it. Wesley refused to look at him so Angel concentrated on Cordelia. He knew what role the seer played in this lovely little melodrama, but that didn’t alleviate the culpability he felt towards the woman. 

Guilt warred with anger and Angel chose the guilt. 

“Cordelia?” The seer looked up at him, fear coming off her in almost physical waves. Angel stayed where he was, wrapped in Buffy’s arms, his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Cordy. I’m so sorry.” 

She just nodded but turned immediately away. It was Anya who asked, “What did you do to her?” 

“It wasn’t him, Anya,” Dawn said immediately, coming to his defense. This, at least, she could do. “It was Angelus and you know that.” 

In a cold voice none of them ever thought to hear from Wesley, the crippled man answered, “He raped her, beat her, drank from her, and then cut out her tongue.” 

A ripple of shock cut through the room but the participants ignore it. Explanations weren’t necessary to those who didn’t know and this was so much more important. 

“How…how did you get here?” Angel asked his voice husky with remorse, shame, guilt, pain. 

Haltingly Wesley began. 

“Short version,” he began, his voice losing none of the coolness, his eyes none of the frost. “Cordelia showed up in my hospital room with a wheelchair and a note explaining she received a vision and that the two of us were needed here. It took us some time,” he went on, leaving out his pain of leaving the hospital bed and hers of simply moving his wheelchair, “for us to make it to an exit, leave the hospital undetected, and then to find a taxi. The streets were oddly deserted, most of the demons gone either because it was daylight or because of something else.” 

He shifted uncomfortably, his legs in casts to help mend the twisted brokenness of his body, his left arm in a sling both wrists bandaged from the chafing Angelus’ manacles had caused. His body was starved and dehydrated and Wesley was so tired he wanted to sleep and never wake up. In sleep, however, came dreams; nightmares of what Angelus had said and done. 

Nightmares Wesley was sure would never stop. 

But he voiced none of his pain. “We made it back to her apartment and her car and drove here.” 

It was Robin who asked, “How did you find this place?” 

Turning to the strange man, Wes said, “Buffy’s house was a crater, I knew Giles no longer lived in the states, going to the high school wasn’t an option, not since Buffy blew the last one up, this was our last and only choice.” 

Turning to the slayer who was still wrapped in what were obviously her lover’s arms, Robin asked, “You blew up the last high school? They didn’t tell me that.” 

Curious Dawn asked, “What did they tell you?” 

“Gas pipe leak during graduation that caused hallucinations among those that survived the explosion.” 

“Oh,” Dawn said and blinked as if she couldn’t believe anyone would believe that story. Then, “If we make it through this, I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale.” 

Still neither Buffy nor Angel said anything, taking and giving comfort from each other in a vain attempt to displace guilt. Then her lover kissed her softly on the lips and moved out of her embrace, walking to where Cordelia sat. 

“I couldn’t stop him, Cordy,” he said and tentatively took her hand. She didn’t pull away but she did flinch as though Angel’s oh-so gentle touch hurt. “I’m sorry, you’ll never know just how much.” 

Cordelia just nodded but still didn’t meet Angel’s eyes. 

Connor looked around for his guide but couldn’t find Doyle. The spirit had left? Now? When they most likely needed him the most? Typical. So Connor settled for watching the play before him, watching Angel apologize to both Cordelia and Wesley, neither of whom looked all that receptive. 

Cordelia was partly responsible for Angelus’ return even if Connor didn’t exactly understand it all; hate made the demon stronger, but a dream, a mere dream about Buffy? THAT was the reason Angel experienced his moment of true happiness? Talk about your strong emotions. Still, it didn’t explain their reception to Angel. 

They, the boy thought, of all people should know the difference between soul and demon.

So much for friendships.

And Buffy. She looked angry and hurt. But most of all, Connor thought, looking deeper into her soul, scared. There were too many forces within her puling in too many directions. And the slayer had no idea which way to go, which direction was the right one. 

Briefly closing her eyes, Buffy mentally chanted, I am not going to say anything, I am not, I am not, I am not. 

Buffy refused to give into the uncontrolled resentment storming through her, at the sight of Angel begging forgiveness from Cordelia. Not that he was actually begging, but that wasn’t Buffy’s point. She refused to loosen the lid on the emotions that surged through her at the sight of the man who had just that morning told her of his love for her looking like he wanted to cry. 

Cry over Cordelia, no less. 

The fact that Angel felt guilty for Angelus’ deeds didn’t help the resentment though Buffy knew it should. Angel always felt guilty about things he had no control over; the gypsies preformed the perfect curse when they gave him back his soul. Buffy wondered if they knew that this was how he’d react. Or maybe they had written it in: Feel guilty over things you had no control over. 

Buffy tried for rationality, but it just wasn’t coming and she started to panic. Was this what Angel felt, this constant anger and pain? Hate and groundless abhorrence, unchecked aggression? Was Buffy feeling this because she now contained Angelus and he was feeding off of her emotions? Was he contributing to the extremes in her emotional state? 

Or was it the combination of several thousand slayers who were the pinnacle of what it is to be a warrior? Was it the First Slayer – the very essence of what was most primal about the slayer – enhancing Buffy’s anger and hate with her own contempt for what she saw as a defective warrior in Cordelia?  

Was the fact that all Buffy really wanted to do was rip into whatever remained of Cordelia until nothing did remain Angelus’ fault? Or the combination of the Slayers who believed that it was the seer’s own fault she was weak and tainted; and because of that weakness not only had a warrior for their side been jeopardized due to her narcissistic selfishness but Buffy’s (Their) mate was placed in jeopardy in the first place? 

Or did fault lay at her feel, just hers, all Buffy’s and no one else’s? 

Buffy didn’t know but the panic was threatening to overwhelm her and she was deathly afraid of what she could and would do to Cordelia if she let this fury get out of hand. 

Cordelia, at whose feet Buffy lay most of this mess. Definitely not the most rational thing the slayer had ever considered, but that did not change the fact that she seriously hated the other woman. 

Cordelia had a chance – as much as Buffy hated to think of it and she really did – to have it all with Angel. Oh, the curse – and hence Angelus – had still been an issue, though if the past hours of verbal flagellation between Angel and Buffy were any indication, the chances of Angel losing his soul with the seer were slim. But Cordelia had had a chance. 

And the woman threw it all away for a romp in the sack with the vampire’s son. What kind of woman was she? 

‘A whore, my love, nothing but a whore.’  

Angelus words to Buffy were in a voice that stated nothing but fact. None of the usual taunting was present and for that Buffy could only be grateful. She just wasn’t up to that at the moment. Besides, she was still angry and upset with Angelus. For not only keeping his tortuous activities a secret from her, but also for daring to take the pompous high road when it came to Angel. 

‘What did you do to her?’ She asked and wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know. 

‘Nothing more than what she deserved,’ he answered, ‘And less than I should have.’ But still he refused to show her the mental images of his latest reign. 

Because of that, and only that, Buffy knew they were bad. But why was he protecting her? And then it hit her; he wasn’t protecting her, he was protecting her image of him. If she didn’t know the details of what he did, she could continue to delude herself. And perhaps he knew she needed that as well. 

Then there was a part of herself, beneath the demon’s hatred, beneath the endless throng of slayers and their anger and contempt that felt satisfaction in the punishment Cordelia had received. Because of the seer, Angelus had been released, because of her, countless had died for her part in this farce. Because of Cordelia, Buffy was in LA once again cleaning up someone else’s mess instead of home where she had been needed the most. 

Willow’s death attested to that. 

Most importantly, Cordelia didn’t have the claim that she hadn’t known about the curse. 

Fair? Rational? Buffy didn’t know and frankly she didn’t care; it was just how she felt and she never claimed to be a saint and that’s what would have been required to forgive something of this magnitude. She had lost her dearest friend while trying to fix Cordelia’s fuck up, someone worth a million Cordelias in the slayer’s book. Buffy would never know if her being with Willow at the end would have changed anything, if, together, she and Faith could have turned the tide, or if her presence might have made Willow fight harder. 

But it was the fact that she wasn’t there that ate at Buffy. The not knowing that kept the anger simmering, the hatred growing making that line between her and the beings within that much thinner. 

Unable to even begin to contemplate what she felt about that, Buffy walked up to Angel and place her hand on his shoulder. As with so many things in her life – and especially this latest debacle – Buffy pushed everything away. Later was soon enough. 

His shame and guilt were tangible, to her at least, and while she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and hold him, to ease and soothe. To rant and rave, pound on him because she was still feeling entirely too vulnerable about too many things, and still didn’t fully trust his feelings for her – or rather she didn’t trust the fact that this time he would stay.   

They had run out of time. 

The sun had just set.
~~~~~~~~~~
The invading army hadn’t waited much past sunset before they were upon the group. 

The second everyone shook themselves out of their trances, weapons were handed out and orders given. Faith and Buffy, sister slayers once more, dolled out instructions as if they had fought side by side only yesterday when, in fact, it had been years. 

“They’re going to come here,” Faith said with conviction. “They know we’re the only threat to the First and Its Harvest and they know that if they wait any longer we’ll find a way to stop it.” 

She turned to Angel who was holding himself stiffly by Buffy’s side. “If what Angel says is true, the two vamps allied with the First know us and know what we’re capable of. And you know damn well they’re going to use that to their advantage.” 

“Who are these vamps?” One of the potentials asked. 

No one said anything for a moment until Giles decided on a partial explanation that helped not at all. “Old enemies. They’ve been here before, but we all thought they had left some time ago.” 

It was obvious there were more questions, especially from Robin Wood who looked like he wanted to drag the truth – or the rest of the explanation at least – out of Giles. But he didn’t and no one said anything else. 

Revenge was something many of them understood and if nothing else, they’d let the son of a slayer have his vengeance…or die trying. 

“Giles,” Buffy said, smoothly taking over, “I want you, Dawn, and Anya towards the back. No lip, Dawnie,” the blonde slayer said not even looking at her sister who had opened her mouth t protest. “I want the three of you out of the way in case something happens to us. We’ll need fighters who know what we’re up against.” 

Her sister seemed somewhat mollified with that though none of them looked happy. Buffy smiled grimly and went on. “If we should fail, the First must not be allowed to win. I don’t care what it takes or what we have to do, it stops here.” 

“Most likely,” Angel said, “The Turok’s will fight in a mass attack kind of way. No form or style, they’ll try to overwhelm us by sheer numbers. And they’ll probably be able to, if Faith’s dream is right. All the more reason to stay together, keep the line tight and don’t let them through. The moment one is, the rest are.” 

He slipped his hand around Buffy’s, squeezing her smaller hand in a show of love and support. She didn’t pull away. 

“Any questions?” 

“Aren’t we missing someone?” A new voice asked and everyone, already on edge, jumped, weapons again pointing to the newcomer. 

“Man, you people really need to work on your welcoming.” 

“Willow?” Buffy asked, hope and suspicion warring in her voice. 

“The First,” Faith said. 

“No, actually, it’s really me. And I brought a friend. Two, actually.” Willow – or something that looked like her – said. Tara and Doyle appeared next to her. 

“Don’t you people ever work with living humans?” Robin asked.

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