Christmas came and went, with Willow trying to make up to Oz her slip with Xander. Buffy spent the day with her mom and Faith, Angel not being overly Christmas-friendly though he had got her a beautiful antique necklace, gold with an Egyptian ankh at the end. The symbol for heart and soul, male and female. Physical and eternal life. 

Thankfully, they hadn’t seen Spike since and he hadn’t – though Buffy was sure he wanted to – said a word about Angel’s return. Not that he knew Angel was gone in the first place, so maybe that was the reason. Plus, Spike hadn’t really talked to anyone else, Buffy managed to intercept him  before he entered her home. Why he’d want to, she couldn’t imagine, but Joyce never knew he was back in town. 

Spike also hadn’t said anything about Angel’s soul – having or not. Of course, that could have been because Angel broke Spike’s left arm and all the fingers of his right hand when the younger vampire brought it up. He hadn’t again. Clearly, he got the hint. 

She and Angel managed to keep Spike clear of everyone else while Oz and Cordelia freed Xander and Willow. Which led to them discovering the latter two in a compromising position and the immediate breakup of both couples. 

Buffy felt terrible about the incident; she knew it was what Willow was trying to tell her weeks ago when they were searching for the Living Flame. That Xander had finally seen Willow as an attractive woman. Buffy wondered at the timing – Willow was pretty serious with Oz and now Xander wanted her? Buffy even felt bad for Cordelia. No one deserved what Xander did to her. 

Especially when the whole school knew it. How the whole school knew it Buffy didn’t know, but they did. Still, Cordelia was bouncing back in her usual Cordy fashion. 

And other than her friends’ personal relationships going downhill, the Hellmouth was quiet. Too quiet. There was that oddness a week before Christmas when Buffy felt as if she was caught in some weird dream – the Master was still alive and she looked like something out of the homeless scene, but other than that, nothing. 

Nothing Hellmouth wise at least. 

Angel finally began to talk to her. About his past, about his time in Hell. He started to open up one day after Buffy skipped lunch to surprise him and found him in the throes of a nightmare. He was calling out to her, asking her to help him. Terrified that this was it and that the curse had finally clicked in, Buffy had chained Angel to the bed, sobbing as she did so. 

“I’m sorry, Angel,” she cried as her tears splashed on his chest. “I’m so sorry.” 

Only then did she wake him, soothing him from the nightmares. 

He was in hell, he told her after she explained her fears of Angelus’ return and the reason for the chains. He hadn’t seemed to hear her, but nodded anyway. The whips were long gone, he said, his skin hanging off him in strips of flesh that would heal because they wanted him to. But it was his mind that they enjoyed toying with the most. 

They knew of Buffy and the scenes of her…the torture they inflicted upon him just by torturing her…it was unbearable. They knew that the demon wanted her, and that she didn’t understand it at all. They used that against Angel, against the soul, and the demon hated it just as much. They hadn’t counted on the dieing man to ask for help from the one being left to help him. 

Soul and demon had joined forces to survive. They needed/wanted/Her/getout and the only way to do that was to do it together. It went a long way towards explaining how Angel was so positive that he wasn’t going to lose his soul, and a long way towards explaining Angelus’ actions. And the healing Buffy began the moment she found Angel in the woods, had finally started in earnest. 

She missed her patrol date with Faith that night and Oz came to warn her that the other slayer was looking for her. The werewolf had asked after Angel and Buffy just nodded and finally said what she’d hoped to say since he returned to her. 

“He’s getting better,” and the smile she sent her friends was a real smile that went further to allaying Oz’s fears than all the words she’d told him up until then. 

When Angel finally fell asleep, hours later as the moon was high in the sky, Buffy breathed deeply. It was the first real and true breath she’d had since…her birthday. She had slipped out to find Faith and lie to her sister. Faith didn’t seem to believe Buffy, but accepted the lie nonetheless and for that Buffy was grateful. They’d come a long way since meeting each other. Their friendship solidifying into something more than slaying. 

Buffy just hoped that when she finally told Faith about Angel and the secrets she’d kept from her sister slayer, that the brunette wouldn’t hate her. She wasn’t sure she could accept that. 

It was her eighteenth birthday now, and Angel was setting out to make it special. He remembered the night of her last one and vowed to erase those memories and create new ones. Lately their lovemaking was frantic, their time together less and less. This night he wanted to be special, slow and loving, he wanted to make sure Buffy knew he wasn’t leaving her and that Angelus wasn’t a threat ever again. 

The demon huffed inside him, hating that. He raged and roared but to no avail; he wasn’t getting out. But then, he knew that. 

When they’d been sucked into hell, something happened between the pair. Angel was drowning, he was dieing and couldn’t save himself, not weak as he was and so disoriented. He’d called out to Buffy, but she wasn’t there. He didn’t understand, not at first, when he did, it was too late and they were already in hell. And the torture had already begun. 

So the soul had called out to the only other person he could. His demon. Together they survived the years in hell. And when that miraculous portal opened, shining brightly directly before them, they took the chance that it’d lead them back to Buffy. It had. But they weren’t the same. 

Angel didn’t understand so many things, and all Angelus wanted was to hunt; they were boiled down to their basic Primal selves, two beings as one that were finally together within its body. Buffy was the catalyst; she was the one thing they knew and the one thing that made sense to them. She brought them back whole, and she was the only reason they stayed. 

Lighting a row of candles along the table, Angel wondered what would’ve happened had he not reached out for Angelus’ help. Had his demon not wanted to survive as much as the soul. He wasn’t sure what kind of agreement, if any, that they had reached, but whatever it was, it worked. The soul was the stronger, it was Angel who saw, did, experienced things first hand. But it was the demon that had helped make it possible. 

He lighted the final candle just as Buffy entered the mansion. 

Tensing immediately, he raced to the front entrance – Buffy was crying, her scent was all of, and she was terrified. 

Gathering her in his arms, Angel gently rocked her as she clung to him. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

“I’m not the slayer anymore!” She wailed, curling against him more. He had the feeling that she was trying to make herself as small as she could. Wrapping his arms tighter around her, protecting her even from this, Angel tried to quiet her. 

“Tell me what happened.” As far as he could remember – and granted, that wasn’t saying much but his memory was returning, sometimes more than he liked – slayers didn’t suddenly just stop being slayers. 

“I can’t throw,” Buffy sobbed, “And I can’t hit. Cordelia saved me this afternoon! I don’t have any strength,” to demonstrate, she leaned back and swung at his face in a surprise move that should’ve knocked Angel off balance and hurt his jaw. Buffy’s fist did nothing to him and Angel realized that she hit like a well, like a girl. 

Like a normal, human, girl. Granted, she had the moves, but not the power behind it. 

“When did this start?” He demanded. Something still wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what. There was more to this than a wrong number, as Buffy called it as she sobbed out the story. 

“The other day, but I thought I had the flu, or something. I’ve been really tired lately, and thought that was why I was off my game.” She sniffled and looked back at him. “Giles says it’s nothing, but it doesn’t  feel like nothing, it feels like something!” 

Her eyes shot fire with that final statement and Angel was relieved to see that his slayer, his beautiful girl wasn’t completely beaten. She still had that spark within her, it was just covered by fear of the unknown. And he could see how this was scary, not knowing why she’d suddenly lost all her powers. 

“Does Faith still have hers?” He asked as he picked her up and carried her to the set table. 

“Angel,” she breathed and smiled at him. It was a little watery, but it was a smile meant just for him and he returned it. 

“Happy Birthday,” he whispered and kissed her, pouring all the passion he had into that kiss. 

“This is so sweet,” her fingers traced his cheek and she blushed. “And I ruined it with my fears and tears.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he insisted and put some of the alfredo on her plate and a piece of bread. “Now, tell me,” he insisted as he waited for her to eat. She had a large appetite, but then she was always active and her metabolism was high. He’d made a lot so that she wouldn’t go hungry – now that he saw the state she was in, Angel wished he’d bought ice cream, too. Buffy had a thing for ice cream when she was upset. 

“Faith is fine,” she nodded as she wound noodles on her fork. “All strength, no problems. Except for the slight cut I gave her.” When he looked at her in confusion, Buffy shrugged and blushed. She refused to meet his eyes. 

“I was showing Giles how I couldn’t throw those knives he always has us practicing with. He thought I just needed more practice. Faith came in to see what was wrong with me – she had to save me from the vamp, the single vamp, we were fighting last night.” She shrugged and chewed for a moment. 

“She was off to my side, far off.” Buffy explained as she broke a piece of bread off. “And well, my aim sucks. I grazed her arm with the knife.” She’d stopped practicing then and rushed to Faith’s side, apologizing profusely to her sister slayer. 

“What’s wrong with me?” She demanded, nibbling on her piece of bread. 

“I don’t know,” Angel said and took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. “But don’t worry; I swear I’ll find out.” 

She believed him. He meant it and she knew that. Buffy had to wonder, though. “If I’m not the slayer,” she whispered, “Would you still love me?” 

Angel chuckled and reached over, tilting her head so she could look at him. “Buffy, I don’t love you because you’re the slayer. I love you,” he smiled. “Because you’re you.” 

She beamed at him, her eyes clearing slightly from the fear of her situation. Eating the rest of her bowl in silence, she said no more of the subject. Angel could tell she was scared. It didn’t matter, he meant what he said. He’d find out who or what did this to her, and keep her safe. He loved her, slayer strength or not. 

Oz walked in just then, looking relieved when he spotted Buffy. He blushed when he realized that he’d interrupted something, dinner and a romantic one at that. Obviously, Angel had prepared something special for Buffy’s birthday. Cringing at that, and his news, Oz nevertheless said what he had to. 

“Hey,” he nodded to the couple. “I was worried about you,” his head jerked to the table. “You okay? Willow said you took off right after school.” 

Buffy nodded. “I needed to get away,” she said. “Want some pasta?” 

“No, but Faith is looking for you. So is everyone else.” He looked at Angel. The vampire was even looking better, and Oz was grateful for that. Two needy dependant people at the same time wouldn’t be able to help each other, no matter how much they loved one other. But it looked like Angel was well on the mend, he looked healthier, and he knew, from past visits, that the vampire spoke better than he had been. 

“I’ll catch up with her in a little bit,” Buffy said and looked at Angel. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and Oz took that as his cue to leave. “I know you hate that I have to sneak around, and God, Angel I do, too. But they don’t understand.” 

Angel nodded, not really caring. He didn’t care about her friends, but she did so he said nothing. Oz was fine, and he liked the werewolf; but Oz understood the situation and respected the two of them. Angel knew the others would not. 

“When do you have to go?” 

“Not just yet,” she said and moved to the other side of the table. Curling back on his lap, Buffy sighed. “This was wonderful, thank you.” 

“Anytime,” he whispered into her hair. “Want to open your present now?” 

“Of course!” She laughed. Grateful for his ability to cheer her up, to just be himself, Buffy waited as Angel carried her to the bedroom, laying her on their bed. He pulled two packages from the nightstand drawer and handed them to her. 

Opening the first one, Buffy discovered a book of poetry, old, probably a first edition. Inside it was sighed, Always, A. “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed him softly on the lips. “It’s beautiful.” 

The second one was smaller, a jewelry box or something. Tearing off the brown paper, Buffy opened the lid and caught her breath. Nestled inside was a ring, almost identical to the claddagh ring Angel had given her last year. This one, however, had a diamond where the heart was and was made from gold. 

“I never got to explain the tradition to you,” he whispered and removed the ring from the box, grasping her hand. 

“I know it,” she said as another tear fell down her cheek. God, could she stop crying already? “I read up on it…afterwards.” 

Kissing her knuckles, Angel slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand, heart pointing towards her. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you,” he said quietly. “I’ll never stop.” 

Leaning into him, Buffy’s lips touched his, soft, gentle, but then the passion between them ignited as it always did and she was clutching at him, drawing him against her, needing to feel his body with hers. Slayer strength or not, Buffy needed Angel. She needed his body inside hers, she needed his cool breath and his hard chest. 

“Make love to me,” she begged, rolling them until she was on top. 

Their coupling was frantic, Angel tried to be gentle, but he needed her so badly, he always did. Buffy’s mouth raced over him, tasting his chest and stomach, licking down his hard cock before engulfing him in her hot mouth. Her hands fondled him, her mouth teased him, and her hair spread over him. 

Angel wanted more.

Growling, face shifting, he rolled until her was hovering over her, his fingers teasing her hot core, his mouth scraping over her hard nipples. Thrusting into her, he stilled suddenly, afraid he’d hurt her. But now, Buffy just mewled and begged for more. Wrapping her legs high on his waist, she rolled her hips and scraped her nails down his back, spurring him on. 

Angel didn’t need any more encouragement. 

And when he came this time, his fangs sinking into her neck, into the place where he one day planned to put his Mark, Angel knew what happened to her. She’d been drugged. Holding her as she calmed, as her orgasm hummed through her and her body collapsed against the bed in a boneless heap, Angel waited. Leaning up on his elbows, he watched her, smoothing the hair from her face.

“Baby,” he said, kissing her eyelids, “Look at me.” 

“Hmm,” she sighed, feeling better than she had in two days. “What’s the matter, Angel?” 

He was still inside her, his face still that of his demons. His hands were gentle on her face, his voice insistent. It was an odd contrast, gentle and fury manifesting themselves at the same time. Her fingers were soft on the ridges of his vampire face as she waited for him to say whatever had him all worked up. 

“You’ve been drugged,” he growled. 

The words didn’t make sense to Buffy as she dropped her hand. “Huh?” How could she have been drugged? She didn’t do drugs, she hadn’t gone to a party where she was served drugged alcohol – yeah, that memory was still vivid in her mind – so where could she have been drugged? 

“How?” She demanded as if Angel had the answer to that. “Where could this have happened? How could it have?” 

“I don’t know, baby,” he murmured in an attempt to calm her. “But your scent is all off and your blood is laced with something. I don’t know what, but it’s not supposed to be there.” He took her elbow, looking at both for some kind of bruise to indicate a needle. He found it on her right arm. 

“See?” He said and showed her her inner elbow. “Needle marks. You probably thought it was from slaying or something,” he added, knowing that she was something a mass of bruises – from both a particularly aggressive demon the other night and their wild lovemaking directly after they’d dispatched said demon. 

The anger he’d been expecting was there. Green fire shot out at him, the spark that’d been missing since she arrived back and with a vengeance. Gone was the fear, the hopelessness. In their place was anger, pure boiling unadulterated anger. Whoever had done this to her was going to be sorry. Angel hoped, as he smiled a wicked grin down at her, that he got to see her explosion. 

“Someone drugged me?” She demanded, sitting up when he rolled off her. “Someone did this on purpose? Someone…” she couldn’t finish her sentence, she was so angry. Steaming, she gathered her clothing, jerking the pants on with short moves, tugging her shirt down. All the while her face remained set in a scowl, what was almost a growl rumbling from her lips. 

Angel had to restrain himself from attacking her and taking her again. God, he loved this woman. 

“When I find out who did this,” she snapped as she slipped on her boots, “They’re going to be very, very sorry.” 

Laying back on the pile of pillows that hadn’t fallen to the floor in their haste to mate with each other, Angel folded his hands behind his head and smirked. “Can I watch?” 

Buffy’s sharp gaze snapped to his. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

“No,” he said seriously and sat up, drawing her to him. Hands on her hips, he looked at her with serious eyes. “I’ll kill whoever did this to you, whoever tried to hurt you like this. I never want anything bad to happen to you, Buffy. Never. I love you and I’ll keep you as safe as I can.” 

All her anger drained from her, or rather, it buried itself underneath the love she felt towards her vampire. Resting her hands on his shoulders, Buffy touched her forehead to his, his now human looking one. 

“I know,” she said, “But this is my fight. Or whatever.” Oh, she’d fight whoever did this to her, and she’d make them pay. “I’m guessing, since this was a shock to you, that you haven’t heard anything?” 

“No, nothing.” And if someone was keeping things form him about his slayer, he’d make them very, very sorry. “The streets are quiet. If someone was out to get you, no one’s saying anything. There’s a rumor about a new crazy vampire in town, but there’s a rumor like that every week.” 

Buffy smiled at him and kissed him. “Love you,” she said. “Walk me home?” 

She stilled as she realized what she’d asked. No, if Faith was looking for her, then it was best to find her sister first. Watching Angel dress, Buffy changed her mind, “Actually, walk me to Faith’s? I don’t want her to worry, but I don’t want to be alone, either.” 

Angel nodded and, grabbing her hand, they set out. It wasn’t hard to find Faith, she was wailing on a pair of vamps who’d obviously been out for some early night snogging. One thing about Faith, when she was worried or scared, she did the same as Buffy. Find the nearest demon and beat them bloody. It was therapeutic. 

Quickly kissing Angel, and promising to see him in the morning, Buffy waited a moment until he was hidden in the shadows to approach Faith. The moment the brunette spotted Buffy, both vamps were dust and Buffy found herself enveloped in Faith’s arms. It was the first sign of physical affection the two slayers had shared, and Buffy was on edge enough to return the hug, very tightly, for a long moment. 

“Damn it, B!” Faith shouted as she released her, “Where the hell have you been?” 

“Around,” she whispered. Then, “Someone drugged me, Faith,” she told the other slayer. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why, and I don’t know who, but someone did.” 

“How do you know?” Faith demanded, ready to tear into whoever did this. 

Pushing the sleeve of her shirt up, she showed the slayer her arm. And the bruise on the inside of her elbow. “Shit, B,” she muttered and looked around. Something was off, but Buffy was her priority now and she needed to get her inside where none of the nasties could get to her. 

Grabbing her non-bruised arm, Faith started to drag Buffy away from the cemetery. “What are you doing out now, anyway? If your powers are really gone – or whatever that drug was designed to do – then you should know better!”

She missed the kiss Buffy blew to Angel who was still waiting in the shadow, and the mouthed, love you. 

“I swear, you’re no better than Xander and Willow, wandering around when you should know better. Damn it, Buffy,” she snarled and didn’t realize she used Buffy’s full name, “Don’t you ever worry me like that again!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Faith watched as Buffy left the library the next day. 

Something was going on with her sister and she didn’t know what. Something other than rescuing her mother from the wacko vamp who kidnapped her to get to the helpless slayer. And God, Faith had been scared for Buffy. No powers, no idea if her mom was dead or alive – or worse, turned. Faith liked Joyce, in a motherly doesn’t get it way and didn’t want to see the lady all beat up like that. 

Still, she was damned proud of Buffy. Her sister slayer hadn’t let something like no powers stop her from killing the vamp from the inside out. Blessed water instead of tap, classic; that’ll teach vamps to stick with blood. Of course, Faith was equally glad that it hadn’t happened to her, whatever those drugs were; she liked her slayer strength, and she never, never wanted to go back to the way she was before. Weak, scared, hopeless.

And oh, to see B flip over the Council’s involvement. It was definitely something to see. Priceless, Faith thought with a backwards glance at the watcher who couldn’t believe it himself. Simply priceless. Faith was also sure that if the Council ever came to Sunnydale again, their welcome would be less than stellar. 

In fact, Faith thought with a smirk, she wouldn’t be surprised if B violated her no killing humans rule. Then again, maybe that was stretching it a bit. 

But it was something else that bothered Faith about Buffy. She’d been ditching their patrol time now, more and more, claiming tiredness, homework, or wanting to be alone. In the beginning, when Faith first arrived in Sunnydale, she thought it was because Buffy was used to working alone. Then, once she got to know the other slayer better, she thought that Buffy wanted time to herself because her loser friends didn’t get her, which they so didn’t. 

Now, however, nothing had changed. Despite the time the two slayers had spent together, despite the deep bond they’d forged, Buffy was still keeping secretes from her. And Faith was worried. Okay, and she didn’t like it one bit, either.

Maybe one of the afore mentioned loser friends would know, she thought as she left the library so that Giles could consider just what kind of Council he worked for. Or, past tense as he’d been fired. Drugging his slayer without his knowledge; Faith was suddenly glad she was the younger and didn’t have a watcher. An official one at least.
~~~~~~~~~~
That night at the Bronze, where everyone but Buffy was in attendance, Faith asked. Oz said nothing, shaking his head negatively. 

“Haven’t noticed,” he said when everyone else thought about it, not offering the instant negative response he’d been hoping for. He hoped, sincerely hoped, that the subject was dropped. It wasn’t and he should’ve realized that. 

“Yeah,” Xander said though his focus was on Cordelia as she danced in the center of the floor. The cheerleader wasn’t with them, for obvious reasons. She still wasn’t talking to Xander, though occasionally she’d speak with Oz or Buffy. 

“She’s been skipping out on us,” he said and Willow reluctantly nodded. 

“Think she’s seeing someone new?” The redhead asked hopefully. 

“Doubtful,” Faith shook her head, eyes scanning the interior of the club for the usual vamps that tried their luck there. “It’s something else.” 

“But what?” Willow asked. 

Oz struggled to keep his mouth shut and his expression as neutral as always. He knew what else it was and was afraid that Buffy’s secret was finally going to come to light; that her carefully balanced balls were about to crash all around her. He had to warn her, but couldn’t leave, not now. That would awaken too much suspicion and he – Buffy – couldn’t afford that. Swallowing his soda, Oz forced himself to relax against the back of his seat and wait everyone out. 

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