“So spill!” Faith demanded. 

They were walking through the cemetery, one of the twelve that Sunnydale claimed and an older one near the edge of town. Near the mansion Angel was at and the last graveyard Buffy wanted to patrol. She’d tried to convince Faith that no one was really buried there, not anymore, but the new slayer wanted to check it out anyway – claimed she wanted to get a feel for the place. Buffy suspected the other slayer merely wanted a chance to talk with her away from her friends and any chance of being interrupted. 

Well, this was the right place for that. There was no chance of being interrupted here. 

“About what?” Buffy asked with a sly grin. She knew what Faith wanted to hear, but wasn’t telling. Not that Buffy could tell her the truth, but it was fun, the way Faith acted around her and treated her. So very different than her…friends did. 

“You and Scott,” Faith huffed. “And details, girl, I want details.” 

“Nothing happened,” Buffy vowed, that tingling in her belly telling her exactly why nothing had happened. Risking a glance behind her, she hoped Angel didn’t leave the mansion to find her; not that she didn’t want him to, but he couldn’t. Too dangerous. How soon before she could slip away and meet him? Not soon enough, Buffy was afraid. “We kissed, he wanted more, I had to leave to meet up with you.” 

“B,” Faith said in exasperation, “I am more than capable of patrolling alone; been there, done that, not a problem. If you wanted a little time with your honey, all you had to do was say so.” 

Buffy did, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Faith for exactly that. Not with Scott, screw Scott – not that way – but with Angel, her darling Angel. He needed her, still after the weeks he’d been back. And she couldn’t abandon him. Not like this…not ever. 

“Nah,” Buffy said instead, ignoring the beating of her heart – she swore it pounded to his name; An-gel, An-gel, An-gel. “Scott…he doesn’t get it.” 

Faith shot her a look and wondered if Miss White Bread was finally getting it herself. “You mean the Slaying?” She asked, “Or that low-down tingling, that rush, that pumping need after a good night’s slaying?” 

“Both,” Buffy admitted and blushed. 

Angel got it she knew he did. He got it because it was often after a few stakings, or a particularly enjoyable chase through a park or cemetery that he would grab her to him, holding her close and attacking her mouth with his. Buffy wondered, now, if he always held himself back then. She was so young – it felt like more than a bare year had passed since those days – it felt like a lifetime. Too long since those nights in his arms. 

“He thinks,” Buffy continued as she tried not to think of Angel and her almost desperate need for him. “That I’m either spending way too much time with Willow studying and should have stellar grades, or am probably gay because I hang out with you so much.” 

Faith laughed, looping her arm over the smaller slayer’s shoulders. “B, I love ya,” she said with a wicked grin. “But you’re not my type. Still,” and she laughed here. “If you ever want to take a walk on the other side, I may not be opposed to it.” 

Buffy just laughed, hoping that Faith couldn’t see the blush that flamed her face in the darkness. She wasn’t interested in Faith, with Angel here she wasn’t interested in anyone. Not here, well, he was there, he was a ten minute walk behind her, but he wasn’t…Buffy stopped that train of thought. It did her no good and she’d only ended up depressed with no way to vent and no one to tell. 

Maybe Faith…again Buffy dismissed that idea. While she desperately wanted to tell someone, Willow, her mom, Giles, none of them would understand. And Faith, well, her sister slayer was all well and good, but Buffy knew she wouldn’t understand, either. 

“Well,” Buffy said an hour later. “This night was a bust.” 

“Agreed,” Faith looked antsy and Buffy wondered if it was because she didn’t stake her share of vamps, or some other reason. “I’m gonna head to the Bronze,” she said with a toss of her hair. Buffy wondered if it was a deliberate gesture or something Faith had picked up so long ago that the slayer no longer noticed it. “Wanna join?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head. “I’m going to take a quick look around the High School and then head home.” 

Faith hesitated a moment then nodded. She bid a quick farewell and went in search of her latest boy toy. Buffy wished her the best of luck…and turned in the direction of Angel’s mansion. She had her own date to keep and didn’t want to be any later than she already was. 

It didn’t take her long to arrive there, and she knew, the moment she stepped through the back gardens, that he was there, waiting for her. He always was, as if he knew where she was. It made Buffy feel special, that he knew so much about her, that he could almost feel her when she was close. A soft smile graced her face as she opened the French doors and stepped through the curtains. Right into his waiting arms. 

Unable to resist, no matter what the more logical side of her brain continually  told her, Buffy eagerly met his lips, letting the cool firmness of them wash through her, the heat they brought to her, the need. His arms wrapped around her body, lifting her slightly and holding her tightly to him as he stepped backwards into the room. Angel didn’t understand, even after weeks of Buffy trying to explain to him. 

She was in his arms – love – and so responsive to his kiss, his body, his touch – need want Her. And yet she always pulled back. Every time she was with him, in his arms, Angel pushed a little further. And every time she was with him, in his arms, Buffy allowed him too. Until she stopped herself, and him, and moved away from him. 

Like now, as his thumb nails flicked over her peaked nipples, the soft cotton of her bra separating him from her delicious skin. His mouth tasted the side of her neck, and Buffy sighed his name, holding his head closer, arching into his hands, into his mouth. Was it the sound of her voice that broke through her lust? Was it something else? 

“Angel,” she said again, sudden tears thick in her voice. “Please, Angel, we need to stop.” 

“No,” he said as he always did. “Want Buffy,” he growled, knowing what he wanted and angry with himself that he couldn’t tell her exactly what that was. He knew he had more words than this, knew that he could tell her with long lines of poetry how he felt and what he wanted. But the words wouldn’t come; they were trapped in his mind along with so many other things. 

They weren’t there, they wouldn’t make themselves known to him and it was almost as frustrating as not able to have Buffy the way he wanted to. Almost, but not quite. He needed Buffy…as long as he had her, herherHER, nothing else mattered. 

“Yes,” Buffy repeated and reluctantly moved off his lap. Maybe coming here was a bad idea – she told herself this every day. Maybe this wasn’t helping Angel – it wasn’t helping her, she was more sexually frustrated than any human had a right to be. But all the maybes in the world weren’t helping, and Buffy knew she’d continue to see Angel every day…and that every day she’d struggle with what was ‘right’ and what she needed. 

“I passed my English test today,” she said, sitting against the back of the couch, inches form him. So close, so far. Just a little-bit-closer…no, she pulled herself back and added, “Got an 86, actually,” and there was a hint of pride in her voice. She risked a glance at Angel and noted his confusion. 

He always looked like that when she switched subjects on him so quickly. Unable to resist, Buffy did what she always did, what she always vowed not to do the next time. Curling against him, her head resting on his chest, fingers entwined with his, Buffy finished telling him about her day. 

School, how she was getting better grades, training with Giles more and more – she was stronger now than ever before – patrolling with Faith. “She’s good,” Buffy admitted reluctantly, “Once I got over the whole not the only one again thing, I’m glad Faith’s here.” 

“Slayer,” Angel said and growled again, “Faith. She…she helps?” 

“Yes,” Buffy nodded, toying with his fingers. Long fingers, cool skin that heated with hers, that made her body – “She helps. She helps me get away to see you.” 

“Buffy,” Angel stopped, closed his eyes. “Upset? Are you,” his words were slow as if he was forcing himself to remember them precisely. “Are you embarrassed with me?” He shook his head, frowned. Trying again, “Are you embarrassed that I-I’m back, that you…hiding me?” 

“NO!” Buffy shouted, startling them both. She turned to face Angel, framing his face with her hands and kissing him hard on his lips. She missed the slight smile on his face, the light in his eyes. It was the first time she’d initiated the intimacy between them. A new step, Angel knew, closer… 

“Angel, I love you,” Buffy said and then stopped at her words. She hadn’t meant to admit that. Too late now and it was the truth, anyway. “I love you so much…but we can’t be together, I’ve told you this. I’m so sorry, baby, I wish there was another way, God how I wish there was another way! But there isn’t and I can’t change that. Neither can you.” 

“Love you,” Angel whispered, knowing what the words meant even if he didn’t understand them. 

Buffy smiled, pulling away. A tear fell from her eyes, and she wondered if she was cursed to always cry around him. “I’m not embarrassed to be around you, Angel,” Buffy promised. “I don’t want everyone else to know you’re back because they won’t understand.” 

It was another thing she’d told him on more than one occasion. He didn’t understand it, Buffy knew, because he didn’t remember so much of his time here. Pre-hell. Her heart twisted in agony at the reminder of what she’d done to him but she remained silent. 

“I should go,” she said eventually, pulling out of Angel’s arms. Gathering her bag and coat, Buffy looked over her shoulder at Angel. “I’m patrolling again tomorrow with Faith and I don’t know if I can get away.” 

“Faith,” Angel said and it was equal parts understanding and jealously. “Scent all over you.” He paused, “Boy…who?” 

Buffy looked at him confused. What was he talking about and why was he bringing it up now? She’d been here for over an hour. “Scott?” Buffy didn’t flinch when Angel growled, his face shifting into his vampire’s. 

“You know who Scott is, Angel. He’s…” she’d explained it to him once, how she was seeing the human boy. It hadn’t gone over well and Buffy had left. That was a week ago and between then and now she’d had time to think on it. Really think on it. Why was she lying to Angel? She never had before, Angel was always who she trusted with everything that no one else believed or wanted to hear. Angel always listened, he always cared, and he loved her because of and despite all she told him. 

“Scott’s the boy I’m seeing,” Buffy said with a bitter laugh as her beautiful green flashed a hatred Angel didn’t think she realized. “I’m seeing him so that everyone thinks I’m Happy-Buffy and nothing’s wrong. It’s so they don’t…find out about you.” 

“Don’t like him,” Angel stated with what came perilously close to a pout. 

Laughing, all traces of bitterness and anger left her and Buffy took a step closer to Angel. “I know you don’t, baby, but if there was another way-” she stopped, paused, watched Angel with hungry eyes and took a step back from him before she did something stupid. Like give into her lust. “I have to go, mom’ll be worried.” 

Without a backward look, Buffy left the mansion and raced home. She didn’t want to look back, though she knew that Angel watched her until she was out of his considerable sight. In not looking back, however, she missed Oz as the werewolf watched from the bushes surrounding the mansion.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angel paced around the large room. 

The sun was shining brightly outside and a faint fall breeze drifted through the large open windows. There, right there on the wind, he could smell Buffy. She was outside at her place…at her school, that was what it was called. She was laughing but it was a forced sound and made Angel want to race to her and hold her; she was with her friends, the ones whose names he couldn’t remember all the time. 

She was miserable. 

How was it that those friends didn’t see that? But they didn’t, they went on with their own lives and continued to blithely ignore the deterioration of their friend. Much as he hated to admit it, as jealously and resentment screamed within him and his demon howled, Faith was good for his slayer. She let Buffy be herself. 

He got that, he knew that. What he didn’t grasp was why they couldn’t be together. Buffy went on and on about the curse – he didn’t remember that. She told him repeatedly and in details he didn’t want to and still couldn’t remember about gypsies and demons. Angel knew, in the deep recesses of his mind; he knew what she was talking about and what he’d done – to his love and to hundreds of others. But there was a block there, something that he couldn’t – or didn’t want to, or didn’t know how to – get passed. 

When Buffy told him of these things, she cried in his arms. She sobbed out her sorrow at having done that to him, pleaded with him for forgiveness. He couldn’t do anything other than hold her, soothing her as best he could. He hadn’t the words to show her that he did forgive her, of course he did. That no matter what she had done or what he remembered – hell, no Buffy, shining light that called to him – or didn’t, he loved her. 

He said that, the words one of the few he remembered. “Love Buffy,” he said, “Always Buffy.” 

When he tried to show her, convinced that his words hadn’t the desired effect, she’d run from him. He didn’t understand, he wanted her, he loved her, he needed her. Herherher, Mate, Buffy. She felt the same way about him, so why did she run? 

Overcome once more with anger at the memory of a mere week ago, anger at being denied that which he wanted most, Angel roared, his fangs lengthening, his eyes going yellow, his nails elongating into claws. He ripped through the lower levels of his house, smashing tables and chairs he didn’t remember buying – or stealing or coming with the abandoned mansion. He punched holes though walls and he ripped doors off their hinges. 

Deep within him, something raged as well. Complimenting his anger, letting lose his rage. Angel didn’t understand it, but welcomed it all the same. Collapsing on the floor in front of the fireplace, he curled into a ball, still growling. A blanket with Buffy’s scent lay on the couch, one of the few items in the house that hadn’t met with his rage, and Angel grabbed it, using it as a pillow on the floor. 

He breathed in her scent, his mind quieting at it and his heart calming. Buffy.

Hours later when Buffy entered the destroyed mansion, that’s how she found him.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Come on, B,” Faith cajoled as they made their way to the Bronze that night. “You’re acting really…off. What you need,” the other slayer insisted, “Is a night of fun and sex.” 

“No,” Buffy insisted, really just wanting to get to Angel. “Really, I-” 

“Can’t? Whatever.” Faith laughed. “Sure you can. And you will.” They were outside the Bronze now. “And you are.” And with that, she pulled Buffy inside the club’s doors, not bothering to pay – and the bouncer said nothing which Buffy strangely didn’t find odd at all – and onto the dance floor. 

“Come on, B,” Faith shouted over the driving beat of the music. “Fuck Scott, he wasn’t worth it, the little shit.” She paused. “Find someone else to fuck,” she added with a wicked grin. 

Buffy agreed with Faith’s assessment of fuc-forgetting Scott, but there was an image to maintain, after all. The one where she ‘was over’ Angel, the one where she ‘went for humans’ now. Well, fuck that, too, Buffy thought and shrugged her coat off, tossing it onto the same table as Faith’s without looking or caring. It wouldn’t be disturbed there, no one really bothered Buffy anymore, not since…Angelus. And Faith had her own brand of rebelliousness and attitude that kept everyone away. 

Together, they were definitely better off; they were two of a kind, and no one could match that. 

The music fit their mood perfectly, it was driving and hard, a pulsing beat that echoed through them and over them. A group of men gathered in a circle around the stunning women who were lost in their own fantasies and needs, unmindful to the attentions lavished upon them. They danced to forget, and they danced to remember. As strangers made their way to them, hoping for a moment in their energy, the slayers focused on combining those energies. 

They were the slayers, after all, so very similar and there had to be something to that, right? 

It was a heady rush, being this close with the only other person in existence who could understand, who could feel what it was like, what they were like. When they were together, Buffy realized as her mind refocused on the present, it was like an extension of herself. Faith complimented her, her power, her skills, her Slayerness. 

Just as Angel did. Angel, whom she needed and loved, Angel who didn’t understand no matter what words she used to tell him. Buffy tried – for all of twenty-four excruciatingly long hours – to tell him without words that they couldn’t be together, but had raced to him just as the sun was rising. She was worried, she told herself, she wanted to double check on him, she said as she raced through the pre-dawn streets of Sunnydale. 

She couldn’t be without him, not now, not anymore. It was as simple and complicated as that. 

Someone was trying to get Faith’s attention and Buffy saw it as her chance to head out. She flashed Faith a grin, knowing, telling, encouraging, and backed away. Faith seemed to understand it, and turned to the hunk behind her. Buffy walked through the crowd still trying to get her attention – after all those who knew, knew that she wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, and those who didn’t know not caring if she was married they just wanted her – and out the club. 

Her destination was Angel. 

When she walked into the mansion, she panicked. The place was trashed, debris everywhere, and…blood. 

“Angel!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Oz watched Buffy leave the club. 

He was there to double check gig dates with the manager for the Dingo’s, Willow was at home studying, something he should probably do as well, but didn’t feel like it. There was more than one reason he’d failed the 12^th grade; the days he’d actually gone to school he probably could’ve stayed awake for those newfangled things called tests. 

He noted Faith and Buffy a while ago, appreciated their graceful movements and their sizzling energy. He noted the vampire dust in their scent and the arousal in each girl. Faith gave off serious come hither vibes, but Buffy…Buffy’s scent was covered with Angel. Having concluded the business he’d come for, Oz continued to watch Buffy and when she left, followed. 

Having a fair idea of where she was going didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to follow her anyway. He waited five minutes before trailing her, knowing that as the slayer she’d probably notice him behind her otherwise. Her scent was strong, something he knew and remembered and most likely always would. As he wound through cemeteries – of course, the Slayer would want to take that direction – and woods, Oz knew his initial guess was correct. 

The mansion she’d sent Angel to hell in. The one she was now hiding him in. 

Pausing at the end of the driveway to sniff the air, Oz strained his senses. He was too far away to note anything specific, but the general sense from the air surrounding the house said love and loss, anger and need. Denied need. Oz felt something like sympathy run through him; Buffy was denied her lover, while Oz had his love. She was denied the basic right of every living being to have that lover and he felt for her. 

His initial reaction to her was right, he thought now as he slowly walked up the driveway. He would keep this secret, because Buffy deserved it to be kept. No one would understand Angel’s return – Oz wasn’t sure he did. But he trusted Buffy to behave responsibly, knowing the consequences of her actions with Angel. 

Of everyone involved, she was the one with the most to loose – her lover, her love. 

Taking a stance directly outside the door, Oz sniffed the air again, noting Buffy’s panic – something must have happened to Angel – and that no one but the three of them were there. Resisting the urge to peak into the room and see what happened, Oz waited a few minutes to ensure Buffy’s safety before leaving. 

Their secret safe for another night.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Angel,” she repeated frantically, crouching beside him. “Angel, please baby wake up!” 

He didn’t move, his eyes were open, staring blindly at her. She tried to move him, but his body was stiff, rigid, and she was afraid to do anything that could possibly hurt him. “Angel,” she said again, pleading. 

No response. 

Lying down on the floor next to him, Buffy looked into his eyes. They were dark, blank, showing her nothing, absolutely nothing. No, that wasn’t exactly right. They showed her something, but Buffy couldn’t accept that. Because to accept meant that she had to do something about it, and doing something about it meant that she had to give in to her feelings. The feelings that never went away, the ones that Angelus couldn’t kill, that her friends couldn’t kill, that separation and hell couldn’t kill. 

Angel needed her, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t have her, didn’t understand her conflicting signals. Want him, stay away. Love affection, can’t have that. 

His expression didn’t change, but Buffy knew there was a spark deep within him, something that knew she was there for him. Slowly, showing him that she meant no harm, Buffy wrapped her arms around him, drawing his head to her breast. He didn’t respond, but she knew he understood. 

She spent hours on the floor, holding a rigid Angel in her arms, hands stroking his hair, longer than before as it just brushed his shoulders, his back, feeling the muscles ripple under her fingertip. She felt his body slowly, oh so very slowly relax and curved her own into his. 

“I love you,” she repeated over and over again, using words and touch to get through to him. “I love you so much,” she told him. 

It was dark outside, the only illumination coming from the fireplace and the dieing fire within. The moon was new, casting no light down upon them. And still, Buffy held Angel. Eventually, finally, he responded. His body, now fully relaxed against hers, breathed one last sigh of a breath he hadn’t needed when he took it untold hours ago. His eyes looked into hers and blinked, that one movement showing Buffy that he knew her. 

Life flowed back into him, his eyes showing that odd mix of love, loss, and something else. Something…primal. Something that called to the slayer within her just as it screamed at her to run. Something that was so very like her Angel from…before and yet was different. Different in that he wasn’t taking no for an answer and that this little game she was playing was going to end as soon as he said so. 

It was strange, that look, but she didn’t care. Buffy followed her instincts and stayed, pressing her lips to Angel’s in a gentle kiss meant to reassure and promise. Whatever was in his eyes, whatever she saw or thought she saw, in the end it didn’t matter. 

In the end, he was Angel and she loved him. 

“Buffy,” he said and his voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in longer than a few hours. It had only been hours, right? Buffy wondered as her hands stroked his face, relaxed now in rest. She saw him just yesterday…oh, God, she shouldn’t have gone to the Bronze with Faith, Buffy thought, she should’ve just gone to see Angel as she always had.

Why hadn’t she? 

Because she was trying to create some kind of space between them. She knew it wasn’t going to work, and she knew she’d fail at it because she didn’t want it to work. 

“Angel,” Buffy said again, letting sleep claim her as it had her love. “I’m never leaving you.” 

“Love you,” he mumbled but Buffy wasn’t sure if he said it to her or in his sleep. It didn’t matter, because together, nothing could break them apart. 

The sun rose, finally, dispelling the darkness of the room, but not the intimacy of the couple. Buffy woke first, something niggling at the back of her mind that she was certain was at least moderately important. But then she realized that Angel was still in her arms, he hadn’t disappeared as she’d feared, and her priorities shifted. Gently disentangling her stiff arms from around her lover – not her lover not anymore – the slayer simply looked at him. 

He looked peaceful, she noted, asleep and peaceful as he hadn’t been since…since…. Kissing him gently, Buffy wasn’t at all surprised when his eyes snapped open. “Angel,” she said and smiled. “Are you-” not all right, that was obviously no, better? Perhaps, but still a foolish thing to say. “Still with me?” 

“Buffy,” Angel nodded and felt better than he had in a long, long while. Exhausted, he was so very tired, but much better. “Tired,” he said as his eyes struggled to stay open and on her face, “I’m tired. Stay? Stay with me?” 

“Of course,” she said, shifting a little so she could pull some pillows off the couch and under them. “What happened to you, what happened to the house?” 

“Angry,” Angel mumbled as if embarrassed. “I was angry that…that…you weren’t with me.” His eyes closed, “Angry that you didn’t want to be.” 

Buffy stilled a moment before resuming her arrangement of the few pillows she’d managed to reach. “I’m here now,” she said with a kiss to his cheek. “And I’m not leaving.” 

Not yet, because Buffy realized that she had school and that with the way her year was going, more people would realize she was missing than last year. Still, she’d call Giles later and tell him that she was simply exhausted from patrolling with Faith and that she needed the day off to rest. He’ believe that, and when Faith showed up later she could confirm they were out pretty late – Faith thought she was patrolling by the school, she had no idea what time Buffy may or may not have arrived home. 

Settling back on the floor, Angel’s head resting on Buffy’s abdomen, they fell back asleep.

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