Things were getting worse. 

Hoards of demons were coming to the Hellmouth in preparation for the upcoming battle. The light was hard pressed to keep up with the steady stream intent on using the energy from the Hellmouth to fuel their own powers thus creating a vortex that would suck the warriors of light into hell, ensuring darkness’ survival. 

Still the slayer and her army fought on, though not this night. Tonight they were burying another friend. 

Oz had shown up on their doorstep one night, suddenly, like something out of a fairy tale. When two people were connected like Willow and Oz, some things are just known. Not to minimize what Willow and Tara had, for their love was deep and true, but with Oz it was…just different. All he knew was that Willow needed him, that their fight needed him. 

He and Willow grew closer in what little time they had together. When she first opened the door Willow didn’t look shocked; surprise never crossed her features, colored her voice. She simply said, “I’ve missed you, welcome back.” And opened her arms to him, holding tightly as though she never meant to let go, a stray tear making its way slowly down her cheek. 

They hadn’t much time together; things were too crazy for that. And the past was never really discussed. Oz had finally learned to control his change, becoming the wolf at will. It wasn’t an easy process, it took too much out of him to do often, but when it was most needed, he always came to the rescue. 

Unfortunately the night he died there were just too many of them. The group was weakened, battered down to almost nothing. Dawn had stayed with Wesley, securing the house, their headquarters, with magickal wards and researching how to stop this sudden influx of evil. Xander and Spike had formed the oddest truce imaginable; they had both lost someone they loved and now fought not only for the fate of the world, but for revenge as well. 

Giles and Buffy had hardened, too many years of fighting taking their toll on the once idealistic watcher and his slayer. Secretly they both wondered if this was why she had been brought back, if these battles were the reason The Powers had allowed her return from heaven. And wondered how they were all to survive, knowing they would not. 

Willow and Oz had point. He had gone ahead to scout out the deserted field while Willow stayed behind to tell the others what they had, or hadn’t, found. Just as she was finishing, Oz had coming sprinting towards them, the hounds of hell literally on his tail. He stayed human long enough to ensure everyone got away before pivoting on his heel and changing into the wolf in one smooth movement. 

When they realized what had happened and returned, scant moments later, the slaughter was already over. 

They buried him during the daylight hours, though Spike couldn’t make it. Daylight was the safest time, though that was rapidly becoming a falsehood as well. It was a humble ceremony, the tombstone simply reading, ‘Daniel Osborne, Hero. He Died Saving His Friends and the World.’ 

That night Angel, Cordelia, and Lorne arrived.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy opened the door, already knowing who stood on the other side. She had felt his anguish so clearly over their connection that it almost brought her to her knees. Though she didn’t know the source of his grief, she knew that he was coming back to Sunnydale. 

Back to her. 

Dawn and Willow released the wards around the house just long enough for the LA team to pull into the driveway and walk to the protection of the porch. Without a word he stepped into her waiting arms, and they held each other as years of pain and betrayal and loss washed through them. 

“I missed you,” She whispered when they finally released each other intent on joining the sedate group sitting in the living room. 

Angel didn’t say anything, his eyes told her all she needed to know. Gently he placed his hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb under the deep circles that ringed her eyes, tracing the angry scar that marred her once perfect cheek. “I know.” 

They were about to walk into the living room when Buffy remembered. “Ah, Angel, there’s something I have to tell you.” 

He paused, turned back to her, stiffening; not sure he could take anything else. “What?” 

“Wesley. He’s here.” 

Shoulders slumping, shaking his head over another friend lost, no matter the circumstances, Angel replied, “No, Buffy, Wesley’s dead.” 

Just then Cordelia screamed, “Wesley! Oh, my God, Wesley! What are you doing here?” 

Angel jumped the few steps into the room and was greeted with the sight of his friend (former friend) rolling out from the kitchen in a wheelchair, holding a tray of scones and cookies while Dawn carried tea out to the group. What the hell…? 

“What’s going on?” 

“Ah, Angel, good to see you again.” Giles said, shaking the vampire’s hand in genuine pleasure – he had long ago made his peace with him – before answering the question. “Wesley was in an accident, he’s paralyzed from the waist down and suffers from almost total amnesia. A…friend brought him to us, Lilah Morgan?”
At the startled glances form the newly arrived group Giles continued, “Yes, I see you remember her. She wanted his survival kept secret; apparently Wesley had made serious enemies whilst in LA.” 

The last was said as a warning and Cordelia took it as such. She still suffered horrible guilt over her friend’s death. She believed that if she had only been there, that if she had talked to him after returning from her vacation with Groo, or if she had realized sooner that the prophecies had haunted him so much, then none of it, any of this, would have happened. 

“Wesley? Do you remember me?” She walked over to his chair, crouching in front of him and took his hand, holding it tightly between hers. 

“I don’t, no, but from the description I’d say you’d be Cordelia Chase. Right?” 

Cordy nodded, tears springing to her eyes. After so much she had thought herself beyond crying. “Yeah, Wes. That’s me.” And then she hugged him, startling Wes who hesitated for a brief moment before lightly returning her crushing embrace. 

Lorne sighed. It was good to see Wesley again; there was no mistaking that. But it made his job harder. One more death on his conscious. Nonetheless he walked up to Wesley and clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Wes, man, good to see you again.” 

“Er, hello. Yes, thank you.” Pieces of his memory had floated back to him over the years, but nothing concrete. And nothing that could help them in their current situation, certainly not faces and names. 

“Lorne, Wes. I’m Lorne.” 

“Ah, yes, okay. You own a club or something?” 

Lorne nodded once in affirmation before turning to Dawn. “And you must be Dawn. Wow, look at you. All grown up. Wouldn’t your parents be proud.” 

Dawn looked from Angel, who continued to stare at Wesley unsure of his next move, to the strange green demon before her. “Parents?” She asked, trying to decipher the obvious hidden meaning behind his words. “My parents are dead.” Though they had no idea where Hank Summers was, he hadn’t bothered to contact his children in years and was therefore considered dead to them. 

“Really, I’m sorry to hear that.” But he didn’t sound all that sorry. “Oh, look, chocolate chip, my favorite. Cordelia, want a cookie?” 

The seer was still looking at Wesley, wiping the tears that continued to streak down her face. “What? Oh, yeah.” She smiled at Xander as he helped her up, thus clearing the way for Angel. 

No set up there. No, no pressure at all. 

Angel slowly advanced on the former Watcher. He glanced once at Buffy who nodded and mouthed, ‘Later,’ before stooping down to eye level. “Hey, Wes.” The words stuck in his throat and nothing more came out. This was the man who had attempted to kidnap his son; this was the man whom Angel ultimately held responsible for Connor’s death. This was the man who had turned traitor and gone to work for Wolfram & Hart no matter for how short a time. 

He had tried, honestly he had, to put his animosity and hatred, his anger and malice away when he learned of Wesley’s death. Now it all rushed back to the surface as though it had always been there. And maybe it had been. Angel didn’t know, but looking at the man before him he realized something else. 

That Wesley didn’t remember anything about his betrayal, his gaze was clear and pure if slightly confused. He remembered nothing about Angel or Connor or Holtz, nothing about the false prophecy or Justine. And second, that they were going to need everyone they could possibly get if they had a hope to win. 

Swallowing his feelings, Angel continued, “It’s um…it’s good to see you again.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to hug the handicapped man, but settled for briefly touching his hand before standing up to look at Buffy, pain flashing in his eyes. 

Cordy was still crying into Xander’s shoulder, Lorne was munching down on cookies and tea, smiling sedately at Dawn, Willow was sitting in a corner silent in her grief, though she had witnessed everything that had happened in the room. And Giles was standing at the window, obviously looking for someone. Or something. 

Just then he moved to the back door, calling out to Dawn to lower the field, and opened it to reveal a disheveled Spike, who was carrying an ornate and rather large necklace. 

He threw the ornament at Giles and gasped, “You own me for that, Watcher. Big time.” Before he had a chance to add anything more about his little mission, he registered the feelings screaming throughout his blood and walked into the living room. And there stood the Great Poof himself, his Souled Sire. 

And it just rankled that Spike now had to include himself in that category. 

“Well, well, look who the cat dragged in.” Absently he wiped at the blood flowing down his face as he looked at the new additions.

Willow looked up, noticed the bleeding, and went to get a cloth to stem the flow. Not that Spike could die from so minimal blood loss, but because it was getting harder and harder to find fresh – non-living human – blood for him. The butcher shops were carrying less and less meat, closing up swiftly all over town and Willy’s had been ransacked and destroyed several weeks ago, leaving Willy dead. 

Buffy had genuinely mourned at his death, despite the fact Willy sold out to the highest bidder or the strongest punch. He had always come up with useful information just when they needed it most. And she couldn’t forget that time he had helped Angel. 

Angel growled, striding the few feet across the room to grab Spike by his throat and slam him against the wall. He was about to rip into him for things too numerous to count when he paused, sniffed the air, looked deeply into his grandchilde’s cerulean blue eyes. 

“What the…?” He dropped his errant Childe into a heap on the floor and spun to look at Buffy, incredibility coloring his voice. “He has a soul?”
***********  
Silence reigned for a few stretching moments, then Buffy shrugged as Cordelia turned to look at her also. “He won’t say how it happened, but he came back to Sunnydale several months after mysteriously leaving fully equipped of a soul.” 

She walked over to where Angel stood, rooted to the floor, still growling at Spike, desperately wanting to know what else had changed in the few years he had been gone and so out of touch. Taking his hand she guided him to the stairs. “There’s a lot that you need to know. I’m sure there’s a lot that you need to share with us, too. However, it’s late and I’m sure we’re all tired. We’ve remodeled a bit since the last time you were here, why don’t you go on up, I’ll be there soon.” 

She nodded encouragingly to Angel who looked lost and bewildered. Watching him climb the stairs, she turned back to Cordelia and Lorne. “There’re some rooms off the back of the house, Lorne, if you want. Xander can show you. We all stay here, now, things are too dangerous not to...” 

Lorne nodded and followed Xander out the back, taking Wesley and Giles with them. Willow looked at her friend and tugged Spike to the steps, urging him down. “What?” 

“Spike, just come on.” Whatever Buffy and Cordelia had to talk about they obviously wanted privacy. 

Grumbling, he acquiesced, still allowing Willow to tend his wounds. Though they were hardly serious, Spike understood that she needed this small task. Plus he’d rather listen to what went on between the Slayer and his Sire than with the seer. 

Finally it was just the two of them. “So, Cordy. Good to see you. Not exactly the welcoming you were expecting, was it?” 

“You have no idea. But considering the state of affairs with us, it’s hardly surprising that the same could be said about here. Want to tell me about Wesley?” Cordelia had no idea her true feelings on the matter; on the one hand she was desperately pleased to see her friend alive, but on the other, she still had unresolved animosity towards him regarding Connor and Wolfram & Hart. 

“Just what I said.” Buffy shrugged. Whatever negative feelings she had once felt towards her former watcher had long ago been put to rest. She was just too tired to deal with them anymore. Sitting on the couch next to her friend, Buffy added, “Lilah brought him, much the worse for wear, asked us to take care of him, left us money, much more than we’d ever need, and left. At first I was so angry with him for betraying Angel like that, for betraying everything we fought for like that, but he didn’t remember anything and he was desperately needed.” 

Oh, boy. She was about to get her ass kicked. Cordelia didn’t even want to know what the slayer was going to do to Angel. “She, uh, told you about…” Cordy waved her hand in the general direction of the upstairs, trying to put into words too many things that she’d rather NOT put into words. 

“Yeah, she told us the story.” Buffy took her friend’s hand, holding it lightly. “You did as I asked, Cordelia, and for that I’m incredibly grateful. I asked you to take care of him to watch over him. To be his friend. And I know you did. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’m not sure it was anybody’s.” 

Was this a reprieve? Was she actually going to survive another night? Was she actually getting a clean slate for sleeping with Buffy’s love? It was too good to be true. Cordelia was shaking inside. “You, um, you don’t mind?” 

Buffy shook her head, but her eyes told another story. “No. I made you promise not to tell me what happened in his life. In fact, as I recall, you didn’t want to cut off all communication between us. You did it because I asked and for that I can never express my thanks.”

She leaned in and hugged her friend tightly. “Tell me what it was like.” 

Completely confused, Cordelia returned the hug and managed to squeak out, “What it was like?” Buffy didn’t actually want to know what making love to Angel was like, did she? Shouldn’t she have her own memories? 

“Yeah, tell me all about it, from the first moment on, everything. What was it like to hold Angel’s child? What did he look like, things like that.” 

“Oh, Connor! Ha, Connor! Yes, of course, yes, Connor.” Immensely relieved, though it brought up yet more pain, Cordelia stopped babbling before she could let anything else slip and told Buffy everything she could about Angel’s son, from the moment Darla first showed up on their doorstep to his actual birth that wasn’t a birth. Gotta love those technicalities. 

About the first few weeks they had with him, watching him change in all the little ways baby’s change, like the fact that he seemed to grow much faster than an average baby. To his kidnapping, first by Wesley then by Holtz. Some of Cordy’s information came form Fred and Gunn; Angel talked only slightly about the actual events. 

Buffy listened, transfixed. Angel’s son. Once upon a time that was what she wanted; to have Angel, to live with him, make love to him, hold him always. To have his children, pieces of both of them, in a wonderful new life bright with possibilities. 

“What did he look like?” 

“Brown hair like Angel, though lighter I guess, something like Dawn’s and not as spiky.” They shared a grin at that, both remembering Angel’s hair from years past. “His eyes were dark, too, but you could see the flecks of green-blue when you got close enough. Whip thin yet incredibly muscled. Tall, he wasn’t all that tall when he first came back from that hell dimension, but he grew, shot up actually. He had moves I’ve only ever seen you and Angel do…” Cordy trailed of, as a wild thought struck her.  

It couldn’t be true, could it? Flash memories from her all too brief time as a ‘higher being’ shot through her mind, but it was gone before she could really grasp it. Something about Connor and Dawn, maybe? Or maybe she was reading too much into this. Maybe it was just the whole mystical origins as a common denominator and it wasn’t really… 

Buffy was looking at her strangely. “Oh, right. He really was an adorable baby who turned into a handsome boy. Who knows what might have happened if Wesley hadn’t found that fake prophesy and tried to take Connor?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, Lilah mentioned something about it. She said that Wes wanted to keep Angel from hurting his child that it was the one thing that Angel would never be able to forgive himself for. That he, Wes, wanted to spare Angel that heartache. And apparently Angel was unwilling to listen. But Wesley remembers nothing of it, so it’s hard to get his side of the story. And we…we haven’t told him about it, any of it.” 

A sigh escaped Cordy as she thought back to those months. “I have no idea. Things were crazy and then suddenly Connor was back but he wanted to kill Angel. And Wes was gone, then I was some kind of higher being, but Angel was sunk to the bottom of the ocean and needed rescuing, so I went back to help him. Wesley died soon afterwards…or not,” she amended with a confused glance to the back of the house. “Connor tried to hunt us all down in an attempt to hurt Angel. Very Angelus style.” 

Tears gathered in the back of her throat, but Cordy pushed them back. “He killed Fred three days ago. Said something about how this was all wrong and that his death would make it right again, and went up in a blast of blue light, taking Gunn with him and destroying most of the hotel. I’m sorry, Buffy. I wanted to tell you despite my word, but I wasn’t sure how’d you react. And I remembered what you had told me about you and Angel and heaven…I just didn’t want to expose either of you to anymore pain of things that might have been.” 

In fact, Cordelia clearly remembered thinking of Buffy first when Angel had charged her with keeping Darla and their unborn child safe. It was her first thought, her only idea of where any of them could be safe. Later, after everything, she regretted it, not going with her first instinct and just driving the two hours. Angel, she was sure, would have understood. And maybe then, none of the rest would have happened. 

But now they had changed. Now they needed each other more than ever. And now it was possible for them to be together. Buffy was silent for a while, absorbing all that Cordelia had told her. It was a lot to take in and she wasn’t sure how to react. Glancing up the stairs, she decided to put everything on hold and just be with Angel. He needed her, so she was gong to be there for him. 

“Cor, ask Willow or Dawn to show you your room. I need…” she trailed off, gesturing helplessly. 

“I know. But Buffy, remember, he doesn’t remember. Are you going to reverse the spell?” Cordelia pushed herself off the couch, suddenly feeling incredibly old and tied. 

“I don’t know. First, I think we should just talk. And see where that leads us.” 

Buffy walked back to her friend, embracing her one last time, before climbing the steps to her former lover. 

And never heard Cordelia mutter, “When she finds out about us, we’re all dead.” 

She walked through the backdoor, and found Dawn sitting there waiting for her. “So, um is there someplace safe for us when the shouting starts?” 

It was a small attempt to lighten the mood that had followed her from LA and increased when they came here to find things much worse. It didn’t work, entirely, but it was something. 

Dawn looked at her, smiled, “Don’t worry, the place is sound proof. Magick is our friend.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Angel sat on the bed in a place that held so many memories. Happy, sad, good, bad, everything he had tried to suppress for so long all came crashing to the forefront blocking out, for a brief moment, his pain from losing his son. But in the end, nothing could. 

He was still sitting there, staring out the window at the tree that he had climbed numerous times in the past when Buffy walked in. He was hunched over, in serious brooding mode, eyes vacant, hands clenched into tight fists that she wondered he didn’t draw blood. His head turned slightly at her entrance, but that was the only reaction she had from him. 

Closing the door firmly behind her, thus invoking the sound proofing spell Dawn and Giles had erected, she moved to the bed, leaning against the headboard, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Tell me?” 

“I couldn’t protect him, Buffy.” He finally said, long moments later. He didn’t shift his head from the comfort of her breast, just wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Connor?” 

“My son, my own child and I couldn’t protect him. Wesley kidnapped him right form under my nose, a person I trusted with my life, with my child and he took him. I can’t forgive him for that.” 

“I know, I understand, believe me I do; it took a lot for me to get past that and I had just learned about it. But Wes doesn’t remember, Angel. He doesn’t remember any of it. When Lilah brought him here all he knew was what she had told him: his name and that we were his friends and would take care of him. She hadn’t told him of his past, as a Watcher, here, with you, about…Connor. None if it. Said that it was up to us how much we wanted to reveal.” 

Intrigued despite himself, Angel asked, “What did you tell him? And why didn’t you tell me…us?” 

“We told him a little about his past, watcher, slayer, witch, vampire. Naturally he didn’t believe us at first, Spike had to switch into his face to prove it.  He’s great at research as I’m sure you know, helps take care of Dawn, he’s grown into a true friend.” His second question was more difficult to answer and Buffy took a moment to compose her reply. 

“Lilah told us about things in LA. What had happened with Darla and Connor, Holtz, Wesley and the false prophecy. I wanted so badly to see you, find out if you were okay, anything, everything. I wanted…hmm. I don’t know. I think, deep down, it was because you hadn’t told me about Connor at all. That you didn’t call me, come to visit, hell, send me a birth announcement in the mail about him. It hurt. And I really didn’t know what else to do, about Wesley.” 

“I wanted to, you know.” He shifted, looking her in the eye, cupped her face in his hands, so big and strong. “I wanted to tell you so badly, but things had ended weirdly between us the last time we saw each other and I, I couldn’t bring all that up again. I had no idea what to do, it was all so new and everyone was after him, and it was hard just to keep him safe on a daily basis. And then Wes…” 

“I know you can’t forgive him. I understand that, that kind of betrayal, that kind of hatred. If you want to tell him the reason, that’s fine. It’s up to you. I’m not going to interfere. But Angel, we need him. We need everyone we have left.” 

“I know. I’m just…it’s so hard. I’m so tired yet I have all this rage roiling through me, waiting to be let out. But I just can’t work up the energy to do anything about it now. I…I don’t understand how Connor could have done this…I just don’t understand why he was taken away from me before we had a chance to fix things between us.” 

Angel trailed off on a sob, crying for the first time since his son’s death three days ago. He cried for a lost chance at being a father, for his son who never knew what it was like, what it could have been like. He cried for lost friends and family, for those few remaining. And he cried for Buffy. For what he never had a chance to give her, for what they never had together. 

Buffy said nothing, could say nothing. Tears streaked down her face as she listened to him cry. She didn’t give him false platitudes, didn’t say that everything was going to be all right, that eventually it would all be fine, for she no longer believed that, either. She just held him, letting her hands roam over his arms and shoulders, soothing as best she could.

And when they finally fell asleep, long moments later, they were still wrapped around each other, holding tightly to the one thing that never changed despite the time and distance and so called replacements. 

Their love.
*************
Without a word, but some major shifting, the LA team moved into the house. It was as if they were to become separated again, even by the few miles between dwellings, then they’d lose more…and that was something that no one could handle. 

Things settled in the Summers’ household fairly quickly. There was too much to do, not enough people, and certainly not enough time in which to do everything. Chores were quickly divided, additional time was spent in research and training, and any free time they had, was spent together. 

They were all they had left, now. Daylight seemed forgotten to all but a few, and to them, it was only a means to an end. The Magic Box was still opened, run by Willow and Giles after Anya’s death, the sole source of income (great though business was, this being Sunnydale and all) for the somewhat ragtag band. 

The end battles were quickly approaching, the signs were all there, and no one was allowed out on patrol alone, always going out in groups of two or more. But it wasn’t the battles that caused so much tension among the group. 

It was the personal problems.
~~~~~~~~~
There was a gnawing suspicion spreading through her that she didn’t quite want to place. At first she dismissed it as jealously, she hadn’t been a part of their lives in too long and she was seeing things that simply weren’t there. But there was a closeness there that screamed at a more intimate relationship. And while it certainly looked to be over now, that didn’t do anything to stop the jealously screaming through her heart. 

It was the little things that first grabbed her attention. The soft caress along her back or shoulder as he moved by her. The way their eyes held as they talked, speaking of things that only the two of them knew. The comfort they shared when in close proximity. Or the way they smiled at each other. 

Angel had slept with Cordelia. 

Really, who was she to judge? She had ‘moved on,’ first with Parker (could he even really be considered a ‘moving on’ or was that it best left forgotten? Personally she’d rather forget.) Then with Riley and Spike, though that wasn’t really moving on either, more like desperation to feel. No, there really was no need for her to be jealous when she hadn’t been as faithful to Angel as she could have been.

That didn’t mean that she wasn’t livid, wasn’t jealous. That her blood boiled with anger and that her soul seethed with pain and envy. 

This was Cordelia, for God’s sake, her friend. The one person in all the world to whom Buffy had entrusted the most precious thing in her life, the safety of her love. 

The more Buffy thought about it, the more jealously became anger. How dare Cordy betray her friendship like this and move in on her, Buffy’s, man? How dare she forget that it was she who had promised to never let anything happen to him? So she had slept with him, threatening the fate of all of them and of the world by tempting Angelus’ return? 

Wait a minute. Now how was that possible? So far as Buffy knew, the so-called happiness clause was still in effect. Had something happened to change that? And why had no one had told her?
~~~~~~~~~~
There was a gnawing suspicion spreading through him that he didn’t quite want to place. At first he dismissed it as jealously, he hadn’t been a part of their lives in too long and he was seeing things that simply weren’t there. But there was a closeness there that screamed at a more intimate relationship. And while it certainly looked to be over now, that didn’t do anything to stop the jealously screaming through his heart. 

It was the little things that first grabbed his attention. The soft caress along her back or shoulder as he moved by her. The way their eyes held as they talked, speaking of things that only the two of them knew. The comfort they shared when in close proximity. Or the way they smiled at each other. 

Buffy had slept with Spike. 

Really, who was he to judge? He had ‘moved on’ with Cordelia. But that had been more of a comfort thing, a mutual realization that they were all they had left in a world increasingly hard to live in. So they had turned to each other, seeking the closeness of intimacy to stave off the threat of loneliness and heartache. Of knowing that they could never be with the ones they truly loved. 

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t screaming with jealously. That his blood boiled with anger and that his soul seethed with pain and envy. That the demon within cried out in anger and hatred and betrayal. The same demon that had been not so quietly mocking his relationship with Cordelia as something that wasn’t satisfying enough.
~~~~~~~~~~
Willow turned to Giles as she watched Angel and Buffy circle warily around each other, trying so hard not to look at the other. Something was going on there and Willow had a sneaking suspicion she knew what it was. 

“Angel knows about Spike.” She said in a whisper that was mostly unnecessary. They were alone in the back room of the Magic Box taking inventory while Angel and Buffy manned the counter. 

Giles looked up from his list, “What? Oh, really? What makes you say so?” 

“Look at the way they circle around each other. Angel is definitely suspicious; he keeps throwing glances at her. His eyes give it all away, though I’m sure he’d think otherwise. They’re hurt, sad, and screaming with jealously.” 

Giles moved to the door to watch the couple. They were indeed uncomfortable around each other, always staying three steps away, never making direct eye contact. “Maybe it wasn’t such a wise decision to have them work together.” The shop had been incredibly busy these past months, it was as though the residents of Sunnydale knew, on some level, what was happening, but still refused to acknowledge it. Everyone took turns working in the shop; it was a slight reprieve from the darkness of the world in which they lived. 

He was about to say more when Buffy’s shout interrupted him. “What? What is it with you? Why do you keep looking at me like that?” 

“Me? I’m not the one giving the funny looks here.” 

She just couldn’t take it any longer, the pain from knowing that Cordelia had given Angel everything that she, Buffy, hadn’t been able to was tearing her apart. On the one hand she desperately wanted to know how Angel had been able to have a physical relationship with the other woman, yet on the other hand, she’d just as soon rather not. 

“Funny looks? Well, I’m not the one who slept with Cordelia!” Damn it, she hadn’t meant to say that. 

“Cordelia, is that what this is about? What about you and Spike?” How did she know about Cordelia? 

“Spike? What about Spike?” And how did he know that? 

He stalked closer to her, forcing her to back up to the counter. The store was deserted this early in the morning but a crowd probably wouldn’t have made a difference to them at this point. There were too many things buried that needed to be talked about, too many things that had long been ignored. 

He watched as her back rammed up against the edge and she tried to scoot around him. And he slapped his hands on either side of her, effectively imprisoning her there. “Spike. I’m talking about you and Spike. When did it happen?” 

His voice had lowered to a growl, and Buffy watched in fascination as his eyes flashed saffron. The demon apparently didn’t like it, either. Angel moved that tiny bit closer, bringing his body into hers, allowing their curves to automatically mold together. She gasped at the contact as a thousand memories about that body assaulted her. 

What could she say? That her first year back from the dead had been the worst of her life? No pun intended. That she had effectively shut Angel out of her life by erasing his memories of their time together in heaven? That she had been so lonely and so unable to feel anything other than emptiness that she had turned to Spike in a vain hope to feel something else? 

So she did. She couldn’t think of anything else to tell him and the truth was always waiting there, ready to burst free. It finally did. 

“The year I came back…I, I just couldn’t deal. It was so hard being here when I had been there and I couldn’t deal with anything. The only thing I felt was complete and total emptiness. Nothing was real; nothing meant anything to me. This world seemed cold and harsh and too, too bright. If I could have, I’d have died again just to make the pain go away. Just to feel something, anything again.” 

Tears slipped past her control and rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. Not even when Angel raised a hand, almost unconsciously, too gently wipe them away as he had so many times in the past. 

“I needed someone, everyone else had their own lives and I felt it was unfair to intrude. I had Dawn to take care of, I still had my stupid sacred calling, I had responsibilities and duties and all I wanted to do was leave everything behind to have what I did in heaven. Because I had-” She choked off, looked away, horrified with what she was about to reveal. 

I had you. She was about to admit that they were together and it was because of her that they no longer were. She was about to tell him that she had erased his memories, manipulated his mind so that he could go on with his life, so that he wouldn’t be burdened by things that could never be in this world. 

But he seemed to understand, as if he could read her mind here as easily as he could there. Slowly he brought his other hand up, tracing the contours of her face. The curve of her cheekbone, the line of the scar, her pert nose and her full lips. “Me. You had me. In heaven, we were together. I…you…you left me.” 

He stopped, confused, searching her eyes for an answer. Where had those memories suddenly come from, why did he say things that he had only half remembered in his deepest dreams, in a secret sealed off part of his heart that would always belong only to her? He let his hands fall away, leaned back though their bodies were still flush against the other, staring deeply into Buffy’s eyes. “Why? Why did you do it? Why don’t I remember?” 

“I…because…oh, God.” Taking a deep breath, she tried to explain what she had been feeling, why she had done it to both of them. But there were no words, only feelings. And the only way to truly understand was to open the bond between them. Giving up, she shook her head and placed her left hand over his heart. “Do you want to remember?” 

“Yes.” More than anything. 

“Are you sure? Once it’s finished, it can never be reversed. We’ll always be connected.” 

“Please.” Angel had always wondered at the part of him that felt so closed off from everything and everyone. It was as though who he was, walking through this life, wasn’t what he was meant to be. As if he were missing something so vital to his life that he couldn’t function without it. 

“Give me your right hand, place your left over my heart.” He complied without hesitation. “Now is the time to remember, may you never forget again. What is in you let be free, what is there let be alive. As I will, so mote it be.” And she kissed him, pouring all the love and passion she still felt for him into this sweet first kiss, allowing their tears – magickal when together – to mix, the final stage of the spell, the rejoining of their souls. 

The consequences would be thought about later, after they had talked. She couldn’t take his memories away again, it didn’t work like that and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do so, in any case. If things didn’t work between them, if they couldn’t overcome the past, the differences so many years apart had rendered, then they’d have to live with the intimate knowledge this connection provided. 

Once again they had done things opposite of what normal relationships dictated. But it was too late now. 

Angel gasped, breaking the kiss and falling backwards as flashes of memory raced through him. Sri Lanka, Buffy, heaven, their house, the weeping willow in the middle of the perfect field, and the beach, all their time together. Making love, talking, playing, and being just being together, all of it together. He fell against a display rack, knocking it to the ground before falling onto the floor, still gasping, a tear tracking down his face, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Next Part

Christine's Page        Buffy/Angel Stories        Home