Buffy closed her eyes, listening on one level to Angelus as he tried to hold his anger in check through their bond. Another level focused on her healing, what the slayer abilities did to her body, and were currently doing to her. 

But Buffy was all too aware that both Angelus and Angel were trying to figure out what the hell was happening to her. Join the club, she wanted to say, I want to know, either. She could feel him just as clearly as ever.  And he was angry – boy was he angry – as he trailed behind her; well, there was little choice, wasn’t there? 

He’d already told her that he wasn’t helping her destroy The First, and since Buffy needed to do that before leaving town again, then that was what she was going to do. No matter the consequences to her or Angelus. Besides, if she could keep him safe, keep him out of this fight, she would. Nothing could happen to him. Nothing. 

Turning to look at the woman stretched out on the back seat, as they careened through town on their way to this mansion she directed them to, Connor asked the question that everyone wanted to know. “How did you heal that fast? Do all slayers have that ability or is it just you?” 

“I always had accelerated healing, part of the slayer package really. But this is new, even for me. Must be all the power of the slay-” Doubling over, curling protectively onto her side, Buffy tried not to cry out. The pain was immense, searing through her body in hot waves and cold flashes. Wes swerved the car at her cry of pain, and Gunn all but climbed over the seat to her, as Buffy gasped for breath. 

Sharp cramps stabbed through her, and the pain was almost unbearable. Her heart rate accelerated and her eyes screwed shut as the pain continued to pound through her, into her, over her, in uncompromising waves. Her shaking doubled, her blood screamed for something and her body tried to bend away from the pain that was omnipresent. 

“Buffy!” Connor shouted, holding her tighter as Wes pulled over to the side of a tree-lined street. The son of two vampires felt helpless as he tried to hold the slayer tight enough to stop her shaking, not knowing what else to do. “Damn it, I knew your injuries were more serious than you were letting on. Buffy,” he shouted again when he received no response. 

Gunn looked at the slayer then at Wes. “Drive, Wes,” he instructed quickly, coldly. 

He had no idea what was gong on, but stopping wasn’t a good idea in his book. Nodding, Wes drove on, faster now, his eyes intent for obstacles in their path though he was sure there weren’t any cops on the road to pull him over. Just as well, he hadn’t his wallet on him and hence no license. Not the most grievous of sins he’d ever committed, but today, with the way their luck was running, they’d be thrown in jail until after this apocalypse. 

“What did you do to me?” She gasped, curling tighter into herself, fear and pain in her voice, as Connor held on tightly to her. “Damn you, Angelus, what did you DO?” 

Gunn and Connor exchanged anxious looks, helpless to relieve Buffy’s pain, or help her in any way, really. Connor shrugged and held her tighter, not knowing what else to do for her. Buffy whimpered again, mindless to the arms around her, mindless to anything but the pain…the pain and the absence of her mate. 

It wasn’t just the slayers or her new healing powers that wracked her body with pain. It was a combination of things: her slayer power was indeed a lot for her human body to handle and this healing made her weaker, too weak to control it. The combined power of the slayers pushed Angelus’ poisonous vampire blood out of her system but accepted one part of him because they were Mated, causing the turning to be incomplete. 

The one aspect of vampirism that Buffy’s body retained was the fact that she needed blood.

And it wasn’t just a need for blood. It was his blood she needed, Buffy realized. Sire blood. 

“AH!” She shouted as convulsions wracked her again and again, her entire body shuddering with the force of her pain.
~~~~~~~~~~
“AH!” She shouted as convulsions wracked her again and again, her entire body shuddering with the force of her pain. 

Angelus jerked the wheel as pain wracked his body. 

But not his pain, Buffy’s. 

“What the fuck…?” He asked no one in particular.

Suddenly, however, both he and that stupid soul that wouldn’t let go, understood. This was a consequence of his trying to turn Buffy. She needed his blood, Sire blood, and he wasn’t there to give it to her. 

“Fuck,” Angelus snarled and drove faster, desperate to get to his Mate. She was in pain and calling to him and he wasn’t about to ignore that call.
~~~~~~~~~~
Connor, not fully understanding what was happening despite his apparent newfound knowledge of just about everything, pulled Buffy’s still quaking body closer. The boy rummaged through the bags in the back until he found a blanket, covering Buffy with it and maneuvering her so her head rested on his lap. 

Running his hands through her hair, sticky with blood and sweat, Connor wondered, briefly, where these words of comfort came from as he whispered them to the shaking slayer. 

“How is she?” Gunn asked long minutes later when her whimpers quieted. They were still heading towards this mansion Buffy told them of, though Gunn was sure they were lost; he got the idea that this town wasn’t that big and yet already he’d seen the same coffee house twice. 

“I don’t know,” Connor admitted, “But I think we’d better hurry to wherever it is we’re supposed to be.” 

It wasn’t long after that that they arrived at a large slightly rundown mansion set atop a winding mile-long driveway. This must be the place then, Connor thought with a look at the woman he held. 

“Buffy,” Connor said, gently shaking her awake from the fitful doze she had been in since this new round of pain. He doubted the two hour nap she had on the way here and the short slumber just now was remotely enough to replenish her, but there was no help for that now. “Buffy, wake up, we’re here.” 

Slowly blinking her eyes open, Buffy looked into the soft concerned ones of Angel’s son. He looked a lot like his father, too much, and Buffy had to hold herself back from snuggling into his arms. What happened, she wondered as she slowly sat up, the blanket still clutched around her shaking body, what happened? Buffy looked around, trying to remember. 

“The mansion?” She asked, blinking against the predawn light. “We’re here?” 

“Yes,” Wes said, standing by the opened driver’s side door and stretching his stiff and mostly healed muscles. His legs felt funny, but then whatever Buffy had done to heal him had replenished the torn muscles and ligaments, too. They were healed, but they were also still weak. 

Gunn stood beside him as he helped Buffy out of the car; he grimaced and gasped at the still raw wounds and aches that Angelus had inflicted but otherwise said nothing. If he survived this he vowed he was taking a week’s vacation someplace with scores of hot women who did nothing but massage his aching, yet hopefully healing, body all day long. 

Buffy stared at the mansion in silence for a long minute. 

The moment of truth had arrived, and there was no way she could get around it. She had to enter the house and face everyone. Those living, and those whom she had disappoint by her arrival – sans vampire; she had to tell them all how she’d failed to bring back the souled vampire. But there was no more time to stall, no more time at all. So she had to enter the house and face everyone; and the moment she did, dreams became reality, and reality came crashing down around her. 

Failure lay heavily upon her shoulders. 

She failed so many people it was unbelievable. Willow, she failed Willow; her best friend was dead because of her. Angel, she’d failed Angel; her lover was trapped beneath the very demon he so long fought. Dawn, she’d failed Dawn; her sister was going to be so disappointed when she learned of Buffy’s many failures. 

Taking a deep breath, she opened the doors to the place she once dreamed of spending her days and nights with Angel in, and went to face her future.
~~~~~~~~~~
The mansion was much the same as it had been the last time Buffy visited bare months ago. 

Giles sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the dieing embers, a glass of whisky in his hand. Anya and Dawn were curled up on opposite ends of the couch, asleep, Faith in a chair near the door, was also asleep, and various SIT’s were strewn about the floor. 

Buffy frowned for a moment – weren’t there more of them before? 

“Raiding the liquor cabinet already, Giles?” Buffy asked, smiling wearily at her one time watcher and mentor. “Really, it’s not…that bad,” she half lied as she entered the room. 

Looking up sharply, Giles quickly stood and wrapped his arms around her slumped and trembling shoulders, holding her close for a minute before pulling back and smiling at her. “Buffy, you made it.” 

By now, everyone was awake; only a few were happy to see the slayer. 

“Buffy!” Dawn said, rushing to her sister’s side. “Are you okay?” She asked, pulling the blanket back and gasping at the sight that greeted her. Blood – in multiple colors – splattered Buffy’s once pristine shirt, bruises covered her arms, and Dawn could see closing cuts on her cheek. “What happened to you?” 

“Dawnie,” Buffy hugged her sister for a moment longer, relieved that she was in one piece. “I’m fine, really I am. Slayer healing and all that,” she said, and pulled her sister back in her arms for another hug, though her own pain was a constant reminder that she wasn’t fine. Buffy’s eyes roamed the crowded great room, even as she held Dawn close. Searching for her redheaded friend. 

But Willow was no where to be found. God, her dream was true. Her best friend was dead…and just how much of that was Buffy’s fault? Willow was dead because she’d been fucking her undead – and soulless – lover. 

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” one of the SIT’s said, Rona, Buffy thought. She also thought that she hated her before this moment. “The conquering hero come back to gloat.” The young woman made a show of looking around the room. “But where’s your prize? I don’t see anyone other than you.” 

Just then, Gunn and Wesley walked in carrying their bags of weapons, Connor right behind them with an unconscious Cordelia. All non-SIT’s looked towards the SIT’s, giving them a look that clearly told them to shut the hell up. 

“What happened to her?” Giles asked concerned as he walked over to the couch a boy he didn’t know had placed Cordelia on. 

“Angelus didn’t like having her around,” Gunn said in a tired voice, all the hatred he felt towards his former – and now soulless – boss clear in his voice. 

Angel was not forthcoming, and everyone turned to Buffy. Tears wanted to form, but Buffy willed them away. She had a lot to grieve over, but this wasn’t the time. She wondered if there ever was a time. A time to mourn Willow, a time to mourn Angel. A time to mourn their ‘what might have beens.’ 

“He’s coming, Giles,” Buffy assured everyone with resignation. “He…um…” She hung her head for a moment, and swayed on her feet. 

Connor growled at everyone who continued to stand there, looking fine and healthy if a little tired. “She’s exhausted, wounded, and weak,” he snarled at those not moving to help her. “Why don’t one of you gapers go find her something to eat and drink? Or is that too much effort for you?” 

A couple SIT’s scurried to do as he ordered, clearly scared of the feral man before them. Giles walked to Buffy, urging her to sit in the chair he’d vacated. “Buffy?” She had a lot of blood on her, and in several colors, so he knew it wasn’t all hers. “What happened?” 

Buffy ignored the question, and instead looked around the room once more, clearly searching for someone. 

“Willow…?” When no one met her gaze, Buffy asked again, panic coating her voice even if she already knew the answer. “Willow, where is she? S-she’s…I-I had this dream and she…she did this spell a-and she warned me about.”  

Buffy looked about the room once more, wildly hoping her friend was someplace, hiding or something, ready to spring out and shout ‘surprise!’ She didn’t really believe that would happen, but she was desperate. 

“I’m sorry, B,” Faith said, her voice breaking as she walked closer to the blonde, genuine sorrow in her voice. Angel still hadn’t showed, and Faith was beginning to worry. More than she had even before. They were so fucked. “She…she saved us, did this wicked spell, took out all the vamps that had attacked. We,” she shook her head, sorrow in her eyes for a woman she wasn’t particularly fond of. “There was no warning; we never knew they were coming.” 

Buffy just nodded, no words coming to her, for their comfort or for hers. Dawn wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and sat on the arm of the chair, holding her close, her own sorrow too close to the surface to help her older sister, though Dawn desperately wished she could. The SIT’s continued to stare at them; still wondering where Buffy had been and why no one questioned it now. 

The ones who left for food and water returned with a minimum – a bottle of water, half a bag of chips, and a leftover steak sandwich. Buffy looked the offerings, and her stomach rolled. Still, she was starved and needed her strength if they were going to fight the First. Without their key player. But then Angelus was probably still on his way…Buffy knew he was. Could feel him coming closer. He was still the crucial element needed to help them win. 

Gunn lowered himself next to a sprawled out Wesley, onto the newly deserted couch, groaning anew at his aches and pains. “So, this is the Sunnydale gang, eh, Faith?” He asked in an effort to break the heavy silence. “Huh, heard a lot about you guys. Anyone got some aspirin?” 

Anya nodded and moved to the side, “Yeah, there’s some in one of the bags, I’ll get it.” 

“So, ah,” Giles began, waiting for the younger man to provide his name.  

“Gunn,” Faith supplied, moving to the man, gingerly touching the wounds on his face, and wondering what else was bruised or broken. She did the same for Wes, wondering at the look of pain buried deep in his eyes. What had happened in LA once she left? 

“Right, Gunn, ah, Wesley, Gunn…what happened in LA?” 

Gunn sighed, shaking his head at the question. He smiled his thanks to Anya when she produced the aspirin, and swallowed them dry. It didn’t look like there was an overabundance of beverage around, or no one offered he and Wes anything, and Buffy seemed to need her water more than he did. Wesley opened his eyes and looked at his former co-watcher. His eyes landed on Buffy then Connor, and finally Dawn. She took that as her cue to escort Buffy out of the room.  

Her sister allowed herself to be led away without protest, despite the knowledge that the discussion was going to involve her failure. Buffy was weak, still hungry even with the sandwich, and dead tired. Ha, dead, what a strange phrase. But then her mind was moving with strangeness, and she couldn’t keep up.  

“He’ll be here soon,” she whispered to Giles, knowing that the other three men would explain what she meant by that. “Don’t…just…” she didn’t know what to say, so simply shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I…It.” She paused, looked from Giles to Faith. “it didn’t work, I’m sorry.” With that, Buffy allowed Dawn to lead her upstairs. “I’m sorry.”

Dawn frowned at that; at the willingness Buffy let Dawn pull her out of the room. Whatever had gone on in the City of Angels it had obviously had a profound effect on Buffy. Had the spell not worked? Or worse…had it? 

“Come on, Buffy,” Dawn said quietly, her voice soft, and full of compassion and love “How about I run you a nice hot bath? You need to relax, get cleaned up, and sleep a little.” 

Buffy just nodded; the comfort her sister was obviously trying to give her lost on the slayer. Still, she appreciated the effort, and let Dawn lead her out of the great room. When Angelus got here, she needed to be ready. And she was far from that right now. 

Once she was gone, heading up the stairs to another part of the house, Gunn and Wesley turned back to the crowd. “Where do you want us to begin?”
~~~~~~~~~~
They were leaving. 

There was no doubt about it, Spike thought, as he watched Dru watch the Bringers. They weren’t as mindless as everyone thought, but they weren’t as observant, either. What with the lack of eyes. Of course, there were less of them now that the First had Its hissy fit. Apparently all powerful evil didn’t translate into all knowing and all seeing. 

It rarely did. 

The Beast’s death, discovered only when It summoned Its most trusted and loyal minion, came as a surprise and horrible shock to It and It let everyone know Its displeasure. Spike and Dru had been out, hunting and avoiding the enraged Evil and planning their part in the next act of the play. 

“The time has come, my Spike,” Dru said as she ran her had over her lover’s face, “To talk of many things.” She smiled dreamily into space and continued, “The First Evil is losing, she is much more powerful than It knows and has friends even she does not know of. My Angel,” she giggled here. “He’s so angry! But he wants her, won’t let you go, and is on his way now.”

Spike nodded, not having much to say about that. He checked his own rage at the thought of Buffy and Buffy with Angel. Pissed him off royally, but he was willing to let it go until the First was banished. Then all bets were off.

Drusilla glanced at him, her eyes glaring with rage as if she knew his thoughts. Probably did, too, and Spike felt a tingle of fear skitter down his spine. She glided towards him, rage and hurt, and hunger flowing off her. “Tsk, my Spike,” Drusilla said, “Don’t think of mummy like that. She wouldn’t like it. My Angel will kill you.” She leaned closer. “And I’ll be very put out.” 

Spike nodded, knowing that before Dru fully accepted him back into the fold he’d have to learn to ignore his feelings – whatever they still were for Buffy. Anger at her betrayal, at her leaving Sunnydale for the poof, but leaving him, Spike, to the First. Residual love, or lust at the very least. 

“She’s more,” Dru continued swiftly, seeing his acceptance. “Now a thousand and one strong, a thousand and one powerful. But poor daddy, he’s himself, himself and himself, himself and himself still in love with her.” 

Now that made no sense to Spike, but he nodded anyway. “When are we leaving, pet?” He asked instead, hoping to lead her onto the conversational path he wanted. 

“Soon, my Spike, soon. Don’t you want to stay for the finale? It’s going to be lovely, fireworks and songs, better than the parades!” 

Parades? Fireworks? Was she talking of the Fourth of July? Or maybe the running of the bulls they had watched one year in Pamplona? There were hundreds of places they had watched fireworks together over the years. Shaking his head at the waywardness of his own thoughts, Spike nodded.

“We’ll stay then pet, but I want no parts of this fight. I’m tired of playing for them.” He growled then, shifting into the face of his demon. William’s soul whimpered quietly, but otherwise said nothing, content to let someone else take over. It was too hard being good, too hard caring. Better to lay dormant and forget. Better, easier, better. 

Spike’s demon raged. Called for blood and howled in bloodlust. It reveled in its dominance over the soul and wanted to keep it that way.
~~~~~~~~~~
“So she killed the Beast and her wounds healed almost instantaneously,” Connor said, finishing the recap he, Gunn, and Wesley told of the events leading up to this moment. As promised, none of them said anything about the strength of the slayers; Buffy had made them promise and frankly none of the three men knew this group well enough to go back on that word. 

Wesley trusted Giles, but knew the depth of the elder watcher’s feelings for Buffy. Telling him something about his slayer Giles didn’t know – and wouldn’t have approved of had he known before the spell – reeked of betrayal. And Wes had had enough of that over the years. 

Connor sat back with a sigh and drank deeply from a glass Buffy’s sister – Dawn was it? – had brought. Briefly, Connor wondered why those staring at him in silence weren’t more surprised by the tale they had just heard. 

Looking around, he supposed they had seen things no one else would ever believe; this was more of the same. Giles had said nothing when Connor told them of Buffy’s spell on Angelus even though the potential slayers had gasped in surprise; obviously, no one had informed them of this plan. He still wasn’t sure why they needed to be informed. 

Anya – was that her name? – and Faith shared a look that said more than Connor could understand and he wondered if he would ever understand the intricacies of humans. Or females, for that matter. 

Everyone was silent for a minute, thinking back on all that they heard. Faith set the now cool wet rag in the basin and held Gunn’s hand clenched at his side, smoothing the fist he had curled tightly. The look of anger and pain on his face when he had told of Fred’s death was enough to get through even her hardened shell. Faith knew that were having some problems, but Gunn still obviously loved the girl, and Faith was sorry, for his sake, that she wouldn’t get a chance to really get to know Fred. 

She hadn’t, though, shed one damn tear over Cordelia’s fate – Cordelia who even now lay on the floor. They’d moved her there when it became clear that neither Gunn nor Wesley could stand much longer. Faith was, however, worried about Wesley. Not that Faith planned on telling anyone that, but that didn’t stop her from worrying as she eyed her former watcher. 

“Do you think it’s the slayers?” Dawn asked, breaking the silence that had descended on the group. “Do you think their combined healing powers had something to do with this?” 

She looked to Giles for this explanation but the watcher had none. “I don’t know, Dawn,” he said quietly, drained, old, tired. “The spell was risky at best, but it was the only way to do what needed to be done. Willow,” his voice broke here, grief and memories thick in his voice. “Willow knew it better than any of us, I’m afraid.” 

Faith straightened a little but said nothing, even when Gunn shot her a look; it wasn’t her place to tell the gang what she knew about Buffy’s spell. She shook her head at the wounded man and went to empty the basin, but spun towards the door a scant second later, ready to attack whoever was there. 

Angelus walked into the room, anger radiating off him in waves that had the SIT’s scrambling for weapons – and cover. His eyes, a reddish golden, quickly scanned the large space, looking for his mate. She wasn’t there. 

He noted Faith relaxing stance, and Connor’s alertness. Giles and Anya lowering quickly grabbed weapons, and a group of girls looking lost and bewildered but nevertheless armed. Wesley and Gunn sat on the couch, and he smirked at their still wounded appearances. But hadn’t he broken Wesley’s legs? Damn, how’d that annoying whelp heal so fast? 

“Where is she?” He snarled, eyes still scanning the room. He looked up the stairs, a slow sensual smile lighting his features. 

“Oh,” Connor said, walking towards his father, ready for a fight. “And Buffy’s spell didn’t work,” he added as he stood several paces from the monster he’d promised Buffy, as he tried to get her to stop shaking, he wouldn’t kill. 

“Angelus,” Faith sneered.
~~~~~~~~~~
This was his final stop, and why Angelus hadn’t thought of it before still pissed him off. He had taken a lot of his rage out on straggling demons at the roadblock, and the remnants of the Beast first, wasting precious time there. But in the end he had felt marginally better, leaving a trail of demonic destruction in his wake. 

His first stop in Sunnydale was Buffy’s old house, only to have Buffy’s dream of Willow’s death confirmed, then Giles’ – the new owners of the apartment had been less than happy to be woken by angry and insistent pounding before dawn. He’d killed them in his rage, snapping their necks quickly and painlessly. He had even tried the new high school in case they had gone to the Hellmouth for some unknown reason. 

His eyes locked with Giles, knew the watcher understood, and then pointedly looked up the stairs. “You can’t keep me from her, Rupert,” Angelus said, slowly, smoothly, eyes promising dire consequences if they tried. He, too was splattered with blood and gore, looking even more feral than Giles knew him to be. “I know she’s here, and I know she needs me.” 

“I thought you said no one knew about this place?” One of the girls said, cocky attitude to the fore. “And yet Miss High and Mighty found us with her little entourage, and now this guy shows up.” 

“Shut up, Kennedy,” Dawn said, scowling at the potential slayer. They had enough problems without the bitch talking. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so just shut the hell up.” 

Angelus laughed at that – those Summers’ women were just full of spunk! – just as Faith sprang into action. She knew he was Angelus, knew that Buffy had failed. And knew that she was the only one here who had a hope in hell of killing him. And it wasn’t a very large hope. 

She swung at him, and the fight was on. Faith knew she wasn’t a match for him, knew that Buffy was right all those years ago. She was strong, but not nearly as strong as her sister slayer. And now, now that Angelus had done something to himself – or the First had – she was even less capable of kicking his demonic ass all the way back to hell. 

Faith got in a few good punches, but knew she was running out of time. Why hadn’t Buffy warned them? Why hadn’t she said something? Faith realized, as Angelus locked his arm around her neck, holding her tight against his hard body, that she had. ‘I’m sorry,’ she kept repeating. ‘It didn’t work, I’m sorry.’ 

“Great, B,” Faith muttered through her constricting throat. But she couldn’t hold that against her sister. The spell was risky at best, with only about a 60% chance of working. But now what? What happened now? Did Angelus kill them all, stealing Buffy away again? Leaving the First to spread across the planet? 

“Now,” he looked at Wesley who was swaying on his mended legs – damn it, Angelus knew those were broken and mangled! What the fuck had happened? Gunn pointed a crossbow directly at his heart, but Faith blocked the way. Somehow, Angelus didn’t think the slayer’s body was going to matter to Gunn; the human was out for blood and death. Connor just watched him, not moving, not blinking, as if he knew. Damn it, his son knew he still possessed that pansy-assed soul! The injustice of it all. 

“You can’t keep me from her, Rupert” Angelus stated. “I’ll always find her. But, if I kill you all, then the First wins. Now, as that’s the only thing Buffy wants, to kill the First and do her little save the world bit, I propose a deal.” 

No one moved. No one agreed, either. “I’m going to kill you,” Faith said with what little breath she had left. Angelus’ grip wasn’t as hard as it could be, but she was quickly losing air. Plus, her arm felt like it was broken. 

“Right, Faith. Like you could,” he said mockingly. “Now then. I have a proposition,” he looked at the assembled group and shook his head. “Such a pathetic army, it’s no wonder Buffy was reluctant to return to you. Here’s the deal, Rupert.”

Angelus’ gaze swung to Giles and he continued. “You can either let me upstairs without a fight you’re sure to lose, let me see Buffy and know she’s alright. I know she was injured leaving LA, and I know she needs me. Either you let me upstairs, or I start killing my way through, starting with Faith here, and then snacking on those tasty wannabe slayers.” 

Said potentials protested, but no one listened to them. “It’s of no matter to me; I don’t care about any of you. But Buffy does, and she thinks she needs you to stop the First.” He sighed dramatically at this. As far as he was concerned, Buffy needed none but him. Angel added his voice to that, and Angelus scowled. Fine whatever, he returned just to keep the soul quiet. God, this was so annoying! 

No wonder brood-boy was always so morose. 

“As the vampire you need,” Angelus continued much to his aggravation, “I’ll help. For her only. But there is a price. I don’t give a damn whether you all live or die, but I do care about my slayer. I can wait, and let the First gut you all, then step in and take Buffy before the First does. Or, I can stay. Stop this Harvest. But we’ll be leaving immediately afterwards. Once we defeat the First, Buffy and I will leave and none of you,” he stressed, eyes hard and black as he looked around the room, “Will not try to find her.” 

He saw Giles’ eyes lighten with understanding at his deal. And mirth at what the watcher picked up about that damned soul. Angelus growled – he was so killing that watcher no matter what. He squeezed Faith’s windpipe harder, cutting off her oxygen, and dropped her unconscious body to the floor. She was still alive – Buffy would need her for the coming battle – but Angelus didn’t want her trying to pull another stunt like that. Even if she wasn’t strong enough to harm him. 

Andrew moved then, trying to attack Angelus. The angry vampire easily caught the bumbling human by the neck, jerking him against his hard chest with a flick of his wrist. Angelus growled, fangs elongating, and casually snapped Andrew’s neck. 

“Buffy will kill you,” Giles pointed out, feeling a stab of sorrow over the annoying human. Still, Andrew was under his protection, and his death was a blow to them. They needed everyone they could get. 

“Yes,” Angelus admitted with that sensual smile, a hint of cruelty underneath, “She could. But she won’t, Rupert, and you know that as well as I. Especially if I took say, little sis over there as a hostage. Or an ex-vengeance demon,” his eyes found Anya’s, and noted the fear and acceptance. Angelus looked down, and put his foot on Faith’s neck. “Or the only slayer remaining that has any noticeable skills.” 

Giles sighed, resigned. He had no choice and that monster knew it. “With the fate of the world at hand, it’s the devil you know, or the one you don’t.” 

“Angelus?” Buffy’s soft voice floated down the stairs, tired, weak, hopeful. 

Tossing Andrew’s dead body at Gunn’s weapon, Angelus sped across the floor, faster than anyone could see, and bounded halfway up the stairs to where Buffy stood. He quickly checked her over, noting the blood stained clothes still on her, the stress lining her beautiful green eyes. The tension that hunched her shoulders and tensed her muscles. The pain and the need. 

Sweeping her into his arms, Angelus ignored their audience below, and climbed the remaining stairs two at a time. He could scent the bathwater, hot and steamy, and headed for their bedroom. Or the room he’d once hoped would be theirs. 

“I’ll take care of you, baby,” he promised in a low voice as he walked away from those still watching. 

“Damn it!” Giles shouted, throwing his empty glass against the wall. “We can’t kill him,” he needlessly told the group. Or those who understood. The potentials didn’t matter. He snorted a grim chuckle to that; all the work he’d done to ensure their survival, and now he knew they didn’t matter. “We still need the souled vampire. For now, we have to agree to Angelus’ alliance proposal. For now.” 

“Angelus is still souled?” Anya asked. Giles looked at her, but said nothing. She took that as a yes, and laughed. “The Scourge of Europe is still souled? Ah, the irony of it all,” she chuckled, loving this. At least she wasn’t screaming like a mad woman into the night. No, things weren’t looking up. 

“I don’t like it,” Wesley said with a strange look at Anya, but offered no alternative. 

Part 4        Part 2

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