November 22

“Do you think we’re wrong, Xander?” Willow asked as she and her best friend had lunch at his site. “Do you think that bringing Buffy back from the dead is wrong?”

“I don’t know, Willow. I hate the thought of her in hell, being tortured by all those demons. She’s the slayer, but I don’t think even she could take all them on.”

“I miss her,” she whispered. “Remember how we used to all have lunch together?”

Xander shared her smile. “Yeah, or those picnics? Those were nice.”

“The post slayage movie night?” they laughed. “Oh, you remember the Bollywood movies?”

“Yeah, with the dancing cow.”

“I thought it was a singing cow?”

“No, it was the singing maiden and the dancing…” he frowned. “Something else. I don’t remember now.”

They laughed, but then trailed into silence. Leaning her head against his shoulder, Willow sighed once more. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she finally admitted. “I don’t know why we can’t bring her back. I’m doing everything right, you read the text.” She felt Xander nod. “Unless there’s something blocking her return?”

“You mean like Glory couldn’t go back without the key, Buffy is stuck there?” There was horror in his voice. “You might be right, Will. What if it’s Glory herself that’s blocking Buffy’s return? I mean what if Glory made it back home, and has her there?” His voice was rising with his panic. “I mean we did everything, right? We did what we were supposed to do, the urn, the snake…okay, coulda done without that.”

“It has to be something blocking me,” Willow frowned, tired. She’d spent so much energy on making this spell work, on bringing Buffy back, on rescuing her dearest friend from the pits of hell, that she barely had time for anything else now. “Could it be Glory? I thought she had to go through the portal to go home, I didn't think she did that. But what if she’s here? What if she’s blocking Buffy’s return?”

Xander enfolded her in his arms. “Calm down, Will. You’ll make it work. I know you will.”

~~~~~~~~~~

December 1

“Well, you’re in a good mood,” Lorne commented to Cordelia as she smiled her way through the front doors.

“It’s a gorgeous day,” she laughed, careful to keep all music from her tone. She’d hummed all the way here, but didn’t want to chance Lorne reading something so stopped a block away. Just in case. She had a lot of plans already in motion that she couldn’t afford to have exposed. Not yet, anyway.

A small smile played around the corner of her lips, but she purposely suppressed it. Again, it just wouldn’t do to have Lorne discover anything until she wanted him too.

“The sun’s out, business is good, evil seems to be slowing down, though I’m sure it’s only the Christmas rush. And,” she said, lowering her voice to a bare whisper incase the vampire was close by. “Angel seems to be in a much better mood.”

Lorne just nodded. “Yes, the little bugger is good for the resident broody one. I even saw him smiling the other day.”

Cordelia feigned shock. “No!” then laughed. “See? Things are looking up.” She danced around the back of the counter, storing her coat and purse. “I think he’s finally getting over the whole,” and here her voice dropped again. “B-word, and the Darla thing…you know, now that I think about it,” she frowned, “It might be time for another apocalypse.”

“When things are going so well, it’s the perfect time for it,” Lorne agreed, but then smiled. “Fred said something to me a few weeks ago, but I haven’t had a chance to talk with you between now and then.”

Too much had happened, that was for sure. Pregnant Darla, baby Connor, evil Holtz, it was enough to make a peace loving demon revert to violence. Still, the Powers he’d worshipped all his life were on his side. It was something he’d taken with him from Pylea, something that even with his absolute hatred of his homeland he couldn’t shake. His faith.

But then religion was often the cornerstone of many, and Lorne was no exception.

“Oh? Was she rambling about her science whatever? Because I swear, I didn’t realize she’d said something about showing me how it worked. I blocked her out.”

Chuckling again, Lorne shook his head. “No, sweat pea, nothing like that. It was about you and Angel.”

Surprised, Cordelia looked at the green skinned demon. “What about us?” Her eyes narrowed. “Was I supposed to watch Connor again?”

“She said she thought you and he belonged together. That you had a connection based on mutual love, trust, and a shared destiny.”

“Right,” Cordelia nodded, “I’m his seer. I get the visions; he saves the people. Shared destiny right there.”

“It’s more than that,” he insisted. “You two are meant for each other. Don’t you see? You and he fight the same fight; you’re on the same side, shared destiny. That’s what I mean – you’re both champions. You both work to rid this world of evil.”

And then Cordelia got it. The smile she sent Lorne made him shiver with something – fear, anxiety, terror – but then it changed. It was bright and sunny, and entirely Cordelia-like, and he forgot whatever he was thinking about evil and ruthless and…

“Angel and I?” she laughed. But then something else clicked…Angel and her. Yes, that would work, wouldn’t it? That would work out just fine. It was, actually, what she’d been planning for quite some time, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her. And now that she had a potential ally it was even better. Oh, yes, this would work out just fine, wouldn’t it.

All her work, everything she’d done to mold this body into something the famed vampire with a soul wanted was finally going to pay off. She was going to be reborn, and it was going to be glorious.

“Lorne,” she said seriously, pushing everything but Cordelia into the back of her mind lest Lorne really could read her without singing. “Angel and I are friends. Now maybe there’s a possibility for more,” she hinted with a sly smile that he missed. And she had the perfect idea for that possibility…Connor, that sweet innocent child. Well, he needed a mother, didn’t he? Yes, it would be the perfect way.

“I won’t deny that. But right now he’s got so much going on in his life, that it wouldn’t be fair to spring this on him. Let’s let him be, okay? There’s plenty of time for…us. He has to adjust to Connor here, to all the responsibilities of a parent, plus there’s still evil we have to get rid of, not to mention Wolfram & Hart…”

Angel walked down the steps then, carrying a giggling Connor. He didn’t seem aware of the conversation between them, but looked up when he felt their eyes on him.

“Hey guys. What’s up?” He turned Connor around so his son could see what was happening, and Connor quieted. He didn’t cry, but he stopped smiling, snuggling deeper into his father’s arms as if to get away from those before him.

“Lorne and I were just saying how we could all use a night out,” Cordelia was quick to say. “Maybe dinner, or something?”

“Sure, you guys go ahead,” Angel nodded as Connor gnawed on his finger. Could he be teething already? “You deserve it.”

“Angel,” Lorne said, getting into this now. She was a genius, Cordelia was. “We meant all of us. You have to get out, cupcake. It isn’t good for you to be cooped up with the kid all day.”

But Angel was shaking his head. “No, you guys go. I’ll be fine here.”

Fuming, Cordelia just smiled. He was forever ruining her plans! What was with him? He couldn’t suspect, no that was impossible, he couldn’t know what she planned. And yet he seemed to realize what she wanted and insisted on foiling her every damn move.

Unaware what she was thinking, or what Lorne and Cordelia were truly talking about, Angel walked into his office, Connor cooing to him again. “We’ll go to the beach later, okay?” Connor gurgled again, his happiness returned. “Take a walk on the sand, watch the moon on the ocean. I’ll show you where She and I met that day, would you like that?”

Connor giggled again, his toothless smile and drool endearing to both soul and demon.

‘Yeah, he takes after his daddy, don’t you?’ Angelus said, voice softer than he’d have liked but neither demon nor soul cared to dwell on it.

“Of course you do,” Angel said, tickling his son. “He’s a handsome lad…” his voice quieted. “She’d have loved him.” Connor looked up and grinned again. “Yes, my boy, She would have loved you very much.”

Suddenly Connor screamed, a cry that was part wail, part need, and Angel didn’t know why. Trying to shush his child, he almost missed it. Almost. But nothing could prevent that feeling from flowing over him, from recognizing it. Abruptly standing, he carried his son to the small window, and the both of them looked out.

She was out there. He knew it. Soul, demon, didn’t matter. He knew it. They knew it.

“Do you feel that?” Angel asked, but wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Connor or Angelus.

‘She’s out there,’ Angelus agreed, barely restraining himself from roaring, breaking free to find her.

‘Yes,’ Angel nodded. ‘But where? And is it really her? Or is it something else?’

‘Don’t know. Don’t care. If She’s out there,’ Angelus reasoned. ‘Then we’re going to find Her.’

‘And if She’s not?’ Angel asked in an anguished whisper, Connor laughing bubbly now, reaching towards the sunlight. Towards the outside where She…might be.

‘Then we kill whoever thought they could make us think She was.’

‘Wolfram & Hart are behind this,’ Angel stated. ‘They were the ones at the cemetery; you and I know they were. If they somehow brought Her back, if they somehow took Her from the peace She deserves…’

‘There’ll be nothing left of them by the time we’re done.’ It was a growl and a promise.

‘Why?’ It wasn’t why destroy the law firm, and they both knew that.

‘Don’t know. But I’m damned tired of them trying to jerk us around. Was perfectly happy disappearing for the next hundred years without Her.’

Angel snorted but didn’t contradict his demon. ‘Similar to the Darla thing?’

‘They want me out?’ Angelus laughed, low and hard, and if Lilah could’ve heard that sound, she’d have quaked in her three-inch heels. ‘Obviously, they don’t know the correct way of freeing the demon. But this?’ he laughed again, and Angel smiled at the sound, not realizing that he’d done so.

‘Not the way to ensure a long life.’

‘No,’ Angel agreed, turning Connor to face him, rising his son high above his head much to the delight of the child. Grinning, Angel tossed him up, catching him and bringing him low to the ground. Connor squealed in delight, gurgling and laughing as only a child could do. One who trusted implicitly that the parent would always be there, would always catch him, would always love him.

‘We’ll hunt tonight,’ Angel said, sitting back at his desk and bouncing Connor on his knee. ‘Something like this is hard to keep a secret. Someone will know something.’

‘Agreed,’ Angelus conceded. ‘But we have to leave the kid. And I don’t trust that seer of yours. There’s something off with her, and don’t tell me you don’t know it,’ he said before Angel could protest.

‘She’s my friend,’ Angel defended, as he always did, but it was weak, and they both knew that. ‘And we don’t have that many.’

‘We had Her. That’s enough. And there is no we in this, the seer isn’t my friend. Dinner, maybe,’ the demon laughed, ‘But not friend.’

‘Oh, stop it,’ Angel snapped. ‘Leave her alone. She’s not involved in this – never was and never will be. She’s clueless and secondary. But she’s a friend.’

Angelus snorted, but said nothing, settling back down. He hated waiting, but if they left now, the groupies in the lobby would be suspicious. He hated them, wouldn’t mind seeing all of them dead, but until Angel came round to his way of thinking, wasn’t going to push. It’d be soon enough, Angelus wasn’t worried.

They’d both changed, though the demon hated to admit it. Eh, so he didn’t want to see the end of the world any longer. He was perfectly happy with it almost as it was…no, no he wasn’t. Neither of them were, and only the presence of Connor stopped them from greeting daylight. Only She being here would make it perfect. And if not, well then, seeing to Her Legacy was okay, too.

For now.

But killing Lilah Morgan was definitely high on his list.

Right below finding their lover.

And that night, as they closed their eyes to the soothing breathing of their son, they dreamt of Her. Her soft hands, Her silken skin. The caress of Her hair along their chest as Her hot mouth kissed them. The feel of Her wet heat clenching around them, of Her cries of passion, ecstasy, of their name.

“Buffy,” they murmured in their sleep, hard and aching for their Mate. “Love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

December 18

“I call on you, Osiris of the underworld, god of all death, overseer of all realms of mortality. Heed my plea!”

Willow once more shouted her long ago memorized words into the night air. Only Xander was with her this evening, the only one left of their friends who helped her. The only one left who knew that Buffy was needed here, not being tortured there.

Tara no longer understood, but how could Willow explain something as fundamental to her lover as this? Tara was kind and sweet and good. But she just didn’t understand. No one did; no one except Xander. He understood. He knew that it was important, imperative, even, to bring Buffy back. They needed her.

Willow needed her.

Desperately needed her best friend, the only one who understood her, the only one who got that Willow was her rock in times of trouble and need. And that Buffy was Willow’s. That without the slayer, Willow was alone.

And so, every few nights, when she regained her energy, when the moon was in certain phase, when the stars smiled down at her in welcome and hope, Willow was out here, waiting while her strength regenerated, while she regathered the necessary ingredients for this spell. While she hid what she was doing from Spike and Faith. She couldn’t have said why, but Willow had a feeling that neither would have liked what she was doing. Spike should have, he was in love with Buffy and had to want her back.

But there was something about their last meeting that told Willow to keep mum about the whole thing. He’d been agitated, hostile even at Dawnie’s funeral. Saying that at least now all three Summers women could be together in heaven. That they could be a family once more.

Plus, she wasn’t a fool. Angel would be mad. Oh, he’d be the first one to embrace the slayer, but he had this weird code, too. Something Willow hadn’t got until recently, until Buffy’s death, actually. Angel loved Buffy with everything in him. Loved her to the point of madness, and beyond. If she were returned to him, Willow had no doubts that he’d worship the ground she walked on.

And then he’d want answers. And then he’d want Willow. Because Willow wasn’t stupid; Buffy alive meant Angel happy. Angel happy meant…Angelus. And if Buffy survived Angelus’ return, which Willow had grave misgivings about, then no one else would. Because she was sure that surviving hell would weaken Buffy, and she wouldn’t be able to protect them against Angelus.

Willow’s other option was to find a way to bind Angel’s soul, but she didn’t really look into that. Hadn’t wanted too, actually. Giles had called it complacent – that the last time Angel had become such, Angelus had been released. Willow, terrified of Angelus, hadn’t wanted to give Angel a cushion, so to speak.

No, Willow wasn’t going to tell Angel. And she wasn’t going to tell Spike. But when she was successful, when she did – and she would – bring Buffy back from hell, then Tara would see and understand.

“We petition you, Osiris, to bring back our Slayer, Buffy Summers, release her soul into my keeping, release her from the fires of Hell, the torment of Hades. Allow her to resume her rightful place here, on Earth.”

A chill wind blew across the cemetery, flickering the candles that circled the grave. It was cold out, the grass was covered with frost, and even the demons stayed inside more than not. December in Sunnydale wasn’t the place to be. Even the Hellmouth, the gateway to hell, was frozen.

It seemed that hell really had frozen over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hell hadn’t frozen over, she was sure of it. It was something far, far worse than that.

It was messing with magicks one shouldn’t mess with. It was fooling with forces of nature that shouldn’t ever be tampered with. It was trying to bring back from the dead one who deserved the peace heaven provided.

Faith watched from the shadows. She’d ditched Spike tonight, telling him that she needed some time alone – he’d seemed to know what she meant, but promised to meet her back at Angel’s mansion with dinner for the two of them.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, Faith nonetheless refused to tear her eyes away from the couple sitting on the grass not a hundred yards from her. They were trying again. Trying to raise Buffy from her grave. Trying to tear her soul out of heaven.

If she could, Faith would kill them just for trying. But she’d promised both Angel and herself that she wouldn’t. Plus, Buffy…there was always Buffy. Her specter haunted Faith no matter what she did. Encouraging. Taunting. Belittling. Loving. It changed, it always did, but one thing Faith knew was that Buffy deserved to be at the peace she was.

She wasn’t in hell. Wasn’t being tortured by the demons she fought. Wasn’t being burned alive over and over until even her voice gave out and there was nothing left to do but endure and even that was hard because you wanted so desperately to scream, to run, to get away and make it stop, but you couldn’t. And no one was there who cared.

In half a dozen steps, she could break up Willow’s little party. But she knew the redhead would only try again. When the bolt of lightening struck the grave, causing the three of them to jump, Faith wondered if now she’d finally succeeded.

But all that was there was singed ground.

Turning sharply on her heel, Faith went to make sure no one had witnessed this. No one needed to know what the two stupid children were doing, what magicks they were playing with.

And later, after patrol, after taking her frustrations and fears out on the demon population of Sunnydale, Faith admitted, only to herself as she entered the mansion, the final reason for not telling anyone of Willow’s resurrection attempts.

She was second. Faith was always second, always would be, and she knew it. Now that Buffy was dead, and even though she was the sole slayer in the world, Faith was still second. But it was hard competing with a ghost. Spike still thought of her, she knew that even though they’d started a relationship – purely sexual as it was – he still thought about her. And Angel…

Faith hadn’t really talked to him in a few weeks. Oh, she’d heard, or Spike had though the demon gossip mill, that he had a kid, and she was nearly positive Spike and Angel spoke often, but she hadn’t. A kid…she still wasn’t sure how that happened; far as she knew, vamps couldn’t conceive. And yet. But he hadn’t called her. Hadn’t told her himself that he had a kid.

Fine. Really. She could deal with that. She could accept that she wasn’t important enough to Angel because, despite the fact he was the only one to truly believe in her, he hadn’t bothered to call her with his parental news. Whatever.

No matter how hurt she was, no matter how much the only two people in her life hurt her by comparing her – inadvertently or not – with Buffy, Faith would never hurt them in return. Not with this news.

That was part of the reason, anyway. The other part was that she didn’t want them to know. Know that Willow was trying to bring Buffy back. Know that there was a chance, however slim, that the witch would succeed. Know that Angel’s love and Spike’s obsession might one day be returned to them.

From heaven or not.

“Spike,” she smiled, pushing all thoughts of Buffy and rituals and death to the back of her mind, refusing to think on it more. “Dinner, perfect.”

Sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, a nice blanket on the floor, a smattering of pillows, lay a scrumptious feast. Chicken, potatoes, veggies, and wine. Dessert was for later, she knew, and included not only her favorite chocolate cake, but also Spike. She almost tackled him here and now, but knew their own ritual.

First they toasted to lost friends – Buffy, Dawn, Joyce, Richard Wilkins, and even Angel, whom they knew was as lost to them as if he, too, were dead. Next they ate, then they forgot everything in each other’s arms.

No, Faith would never tell either vampire about Buffy’s potential resurrection. And Faith hoped to a God she never really believed in, that Willow failed. Buffy deserved peace. And Faith deserved to show the world she could make it on her own.

~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t worked. Despite the bolt of lightening that struck the ground directly over Buffy’s grave, it hadn’t worked.

Xander carried Willow home, back to Buffy’s house. It wasn’t Buffy’s house anymore, but they all called it that. What else could they call it? Their new home? No, they hadn’t really told anyone Buffy was dead, though she had a grave. They hadn’t passed the word that Dawn was dead, either.

When the school called asking where she was, Willow had lied and said she was with her Dad. In Austria or something like that; she’d then hacked into the school records and changed them so it looked like Dawn – dear Dawn who had never hurt anyone in her life – was traveling on a learning vacation with her father.

Hank didn’t know his children were dead. Whenever he called, which wasn’t often, Willow programmed the Buffy-bot to speak to him. And Dawn – who had only wanted to be treated like a real person and not some key – was at school or with a friend, or studying. Had to maintain those straight A’s after all.

Opening the door, careful not to make a sound incase Tara really was here and not elsewhere – she rarely stayed at the house anymore, preferring to spend time with Anya or Faith and Spike, or school friends. Anyplace but here. With Willow.

Carefully carrying his dearest friend up the stairs, Xander knew, without calling out, that no one was in the house. No one ever was anymore. He laid Willow on the bed, tugging a blanket over her as she slept. Passed out more like it, but the rest would do her good. Closing the door with a soft click, he wandered the house like a ghost. Looking, always looking, but never finding. There wasn’t anything left to find.

Dawn’s room, so bright and girlish, still held everything of the child. Her books, her clothes, her jewelry. The journal where she made her last entry. Xander hadn’t ever been able to read that, didn’t really want to. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going through her mind, the poor kid. He continued his nightly ritual, moving through the house in a fog of memories and desires.

Another soft click and he moved onto Buffy’s room. It, too, hadn’t changed. The pictures of the three of them still graced her bureau, makeup, clothes, shoes. Stakes, swords, weapons of every imaginable kind littered the room, making him smile. That was his girl, always a cross between woman and slayer.

Looking one last time through the scent of her perfume, Xander closed the door. Never realizing that he missed the most important parts of her life. Of her heart.

Walking back downstairs, he locked up for the night, shut the lights off, and headed for a shower. He needed to wash the grime off his skin, the electric static that still clung to him. Or maybe it was something else. Failure.

~~~~~~~~~~

January 30

“So let me get this straight,” Lilah said as she eyed the technicians minding the tank.

The slayer floated there, pale and ethereal, haunting even her as she tried not to look too closely at the woman. Something about this bothered her, but Lilah couldn’t have said what. The fact that they’d brought her back from the dead? Not really, no. Not even from heaven. That didn’t bother Lilah, even if it was slightly…poignant.

It was something else. Pity. Yes, it was pity. And for the first time in a long time, Lilah felt it move through her. And didn’t like it.

“You haven’t been successful yet.” It wasn’t a question.

“Technically,” one began, “the simple act of regenerating her body to such a perfect degree-”

Lilah cut him off with a look. “So let me get this straight,” she repeated. “You haven’t been successful yet.”

“Ah,” they exchanged a glance and shook their heads. “No.”

“Get out of my sight.” she snarled. “Find those shamans and figure out what’s wrong. I want a report by the end of the day,” it was already three in the afternoon. “Or I’ll have your heads nailed to the front door.”

They scurried away, and she turned back to the tank and the floating, non-responsive woman in it. “What is it about you, Buffy, that causes this not to work? We’ve looked into the possibility of something blocking our magicks, but the only thing we can think of is that your little witchy friend’s attempts to bring you back for her own purposes are blocking us.”

Lilah wandered around the tank, looking at the pale-skinned woman, naked and unaware of it. Unaware of the people who stared at her day in and day out, who tested and prodded and recorded her reactions, vitals, and life. Life. Such as her life now was, unaware and in a life-preserving gel-filled tank.

She came here often, several times a week, and always found herself talking to the slayer. Buffy never answered her back, and for that Lilah was oddly grateful; if she had, it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing the lawyer had seen in her time with Wolfram & Hart, but it’d have been damned close. Still, every time she came, every time she spoke with the other woman, Lilah wondered…

“What is it about you that causes your dearest friends to want to yank you out of heaven?” she asked, stopping in front of Buffy once more. “Do they honestly believe you’re in hell?” she laughed, harsh and pitying. Pity for their considerable stupidity in believing that, pity for a woman Lilah was using for her own ends, after all. Lilah hadn’t even thought to look in Hell; no, the first place the shamans scoured for the slayer’s soul was heaven. They found it, but there were other complications.

“What is it,” she continued, “That causes this Willow of yours to try over and over, at the expense of her lover, her friendships, of her very sanity? I’ve read the file. Know about your past, the vampires and demons you’ve killed, the people you couldn’t save, the friendships you’ve forged. Very impressive,” she nodded, her tone suggesting that she was impressed. And it took a lot to impress her anymore.

“But you’re no different from a thousand other slayers. Or are you? One dies, another is called, over and over again, that’s how it works, and that’s it. End of story. And yet there’s something about you that inspires this loyalty. Such loyalty and love that your dearest friend is willing to embrace the darkest of magicks, condemn both her soul and yours to an eternity of torture and hell on earth. Why? What is it about you that she’d risk this?

“Could it be,” and here she laughed. “That she doesn’t know? Doesn’t know that you’re gone from your grave, no,” she shook her head again. “I imagine your dear Angel wouldn’t have told anyone. It seems he doesn’t trust anyone but his grandchilde, Spike. I wonder,” Lilah paused now, carefully watching her. “Why that is.  Oh, yes,” she waved a hand as if dismissing it, “We know about that – he’s so unsubtle when it comes to those he cares about. Did you know,” her voice hardened as if imparting a particularly nasty piece of gossip to a rival.

“That when his dear seer, the lovely, but vapid, Cordelia, was in danger he went all out to save her? At first we thought it was her who was his connection to the Powers, her he cared for, loved, held above all others. After all, he went to great lengths to protect her, to make sure she was safe. You weren’t mentioned; in fact, it was only through your Sister Slayer that we even found out about you.

“So much for the Senior Partner’s researching.” She shrugged and went back on topic. “Would you believe that it wasn’t until your death that we realized the error of our ways? That we realized that everything Angel did, everything,” she stressed, eyes serious and wondering, expression curious.

“Every single thing he did was because of you. That he fights, that he cares for others, that he does what he does – helps the helpless, helps the hopeless and utterly pathetic – it’s all because of a slayer. Imagine the irony, the poetic paradox that inspired. Imagine the scrambling,” she muttered, “We had to do when we discovered he’d gone ballistic when you died, totally and completely lost it, and we almost lost our chance to control the demon.”

There was no movement from the tank, nothing to indicate that the slayer heard Lilah’s words at all. And yet there was something there. Some indefinable thing that had Lilah wondering if maybe Buffy Summers could hear her. But there was no response, so Lilah continued, safe in the knowledge that this room was hidden from everything – surveillance both technological and magickal, the Senior Partners, the rest of Wolfram & Hart, everyone.

“So we looked you up. Impressive track record – Lothos, the Master Heinrich Nest, hundreds of vampires and miscellaneous demons, Richard Wilkins III, that ridiculous human-demon hybrid Adam or whatever,” she waved it away, giving the creature Adam about as much due as it was worth.

“Then we come to the big two. Let’s work backwards, eh? Save the really interesting one for last. Which doesn’t mean,” she grinned. “That Glorificous and your battle with her isn’t worth commenting on. The hell goddess – that’s very impressive.”

Still no reaction – nothing on the monitors, nothing to Lilah’s eye, and yet she had this feeling that Buffy Summers could hear her. “It isn’t often,” she continued, watching her carefully. “One runs across them, and I have to say, you handled yourself magnificently. She didn’t defeat you, no – you defeated her, kicked her ass actually, and then sacrificed yourself. So this Glory; she only wanted to return home, and needed the key you were destined to protect to do so. Remarkable that you sacrificed yourself for a sister that killed herself shortly afterwards. Doesn’t seem worth it to me.”

Lilah shook her head, still carefully watching Buffy for a reaction. Nothing. “But then I suppose you’re used to that, eh? Used to having your sacrifices dismissed like that, used to having everything you do mocked to your face.”

Taking a step closer, Lilah wanted to reach out and touch the tank, wanted to see if Buffy Summers felt real through the thick gel that sustained her life. Looking up, watching the serene face, the closed eyes, the respirator that covered nose and mouth pump oxygen into her body, Lilah wondered. There was a lot about this slayer that fascinated her. Intrigued her to the point where she wanted to actually hold a conversation with her, wanted to know what made the younger woman tick.

“But let’s go back to the first time you made such a sacrifice, shall we? Angelus. Had to kill him to save the world. That must’ve sucked, but I suppose you felt it was your duty; sacrifice the man you love for the fate of the world. Was it worth it, Buffy? Was it worth killing him when this is what happened? He left, you died, and now…now he’s going crazy. And you’re trapped in a tank with no way out unless I say so.

“Obsession,” she murmured, “It’s a good word here. It fits, I think, don’t you agree? We all have our obsessions; Angel has his – you, it would seem, and being a perpetual pain in my ass. But then you have yours as well. Doing the right thing. Saving the world. Sacrificing yourself time and again for a planet that doesn’t care. Worse, for friends who don’t really understand what it is you do.

“We can change that,” Lilah offered. “We can change all of that. All you’d have to do is come work for us. You and Angel,” she offered a sly, smug smile, “That would make quite the pair. Better…you and Angelus. But I wonder…would the demon still hold such obsession for you now? Or would he kill you as he tried three years ago?

“Would you still do it again, little Slayer? Knowing that the brat threw away the chance you gave her? Would it be worth it, knowing that throwing your life away, that killing yourself for your sister, enabled Darla to give Angel a child? That’s right,” she snapped her fingers as if suddenly remembering something. “You don’t know, do you? You don’t know what’s happening in his life, do you. Shame, really, it’s quite intriguing. It seems that you were one of many seemingly so easily replaced…and yet.... He still obsesses about you.”

She stopped, wondering if this was too much… “He still wants you, I know, because he searches for you every night. Sunnydale is terrified of him, and LA, once the place he helped, now cowers from him. All because he’s searching for you. Pity he won’t find you until I say.”

With one final look, Lilah exited the room, wondering what it was about Buffy Summers that captivated everyone. Angel and Angelus, demons, vampires, Spike, her friends, even those she defeated. And realized that she was one of them. She, too, was enthralled with the slayer, with the beautiful woman who lived and died, loved and lost, and still managed to come out better than any of them.

Was it, she wondered, her sexual need for Angel/Angelus that caused her to be so captivated by Buffy? Or was it because Lilah knew that both soul and demon wanted Buffy so badly, needed her in any form, that this was the one way to have him? Vicariously, at best, through Buffy?

Did she think visiting Buffy, day after day, talking to her, sharing with her, keeping her apprised of the outside world, even, yes, even sometimes sharing the personal and private matters of her everyday life would somehow give her insight into Buffy’s allure? Her draw? Was it so Lilah could achieve her long held desire for Angelus and Angel?

The more she visited, however, the more that answer eluded her, thus making her more obsessed…with Buffy, and with Angel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Angel held Connor close to them as their boy cried. It was a recent development, this constant crying, and they were at a loss as to what to do with the child. Nothing worked, teething rings, food, naps, changing diapers, nothing. Connor couldn’t stand to be around the rest of the AI team, yet Angel had no choice but to leave him with them.

“Connor, lad,” he whispered, “Please, please, just tell me what’s wrong!” But there was no answer. “A hint, a sign, a smoke signal, something.”

‘It’s probably the smog in LA,’ Angelus offered, but he didn’t believe that either. Angel hadn’t however, wanted to hear about his demon’s theory on how the kid was already empathic and didn’t like the little Angel Investigation team any more than his father.

‘Face it,’ he’d said. ‘Wesley’s acting strange with this research crap he’s pulling all the time. I swear he thinks any second now you’re going to be me, and I’m going to go on a killing rampage.’ He’d snorted at that.

‘What, I ask, is there left to create for us a moment of any happiness, let alone perfect? Idiot Watcher. Gunn and Fred are so far up each other’s asses they wouldn’t know if an earthquake hit. Lorne is just creepy with those horns and the way he blathers on and on about Cordelia – shudder at the thought, please, we have much better taste than that – and his beloved Powers. Like the Powers have ever done anything for us. And that seer of yours – she needs to go. And don’t tell me you don’t sense it, either. Even you aren’t that stupid.’

He had. They both knew he had. There was something off with Cordelia, more so now that she’d become ‘part demon’ but neither knew what. Okay, so she wouldn’t die now from her visions, so she didn’t have splitting migraines and marks across her body from the sight of whatever latest evil the Powers wanted them to vanquish.

It made Connor scream every time she came near them, something that made their skin crawl and their insides itch. Evil, they wanted to say, but that was just laughable.

Cordelia evil? Not likely. Though there was that odd sense when they were trapped in the theater. When those ghosts – how clichéd; been there, done that, déjà vu just ain’t what it used to be…besides, it was much better with Her. At least with Her, they had a chance at getting what they wanted – had taken over their bodies. When they’d tried to – horror of horrors – make love to the seer. There was something that teased the back of their mind, telling them that there was something more to this than simple ghosts, past lives, and revenge.

But then it’d ended and Cordelia had left with Groo, and that was the end of that. No freaky feeling, no more evil, nothing.

Except Connor still didn’t like being in the hotel.

“Who can blame you?” Angel asked their son, bouncing him up and down in an effort to soothe the poor child. “It’s stuffy in here, isn’t it? You can’t go outside, and I’m sorry for that, son. If She were here, She’d take you into the light; teach you to build sandcastles in the sun and what a rainbow looks like. How to race in the park with the sunlight glinting off Her hair-”

“Talking to yourself, Angel?”

Jerking their head up, he snarled at the newcomer. “Can’t stay away, eh, Lilah?” he asked, as Connor quieted. Wondering why that was – was it because he sensed his father needed all his attention for the viper now in their home, or something…Her. They sensed it, too. The faintest, just the barest, trace of Her on Lilah’s skin.

Eyes flashing golden, he stalked to the lawyer, demanding, “What are you doing?”

“Came to see you, of course,” she smirked, her perfectly pressed clothes clinging to her figure, her coiffed hair and manicured nails adding to the effect of a dangerous woman. “Call it my weekly visit. You know it’s just not the same unless I can torment you a little.”

The smile he sent her had a thrill of fear racing through her, but it didn’t stop the arousal that pooled low in her belly. God, she thought. This man was gorgeous. Dangerous and gorgeous, and she wanted him. His eyes were a strange mixture of brown and gold – neither human nor demon – and she swore she saw a hint of fang. He moved with lethal grace that beckoned her to him.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you, Lilah?” he asked in a dangerously silken voice that caressed her from a yard away. “What is it this time, hmmm? More on how you’re going to use my son for experiments?” Connor laughed at that, causing Lilah to glance at the child in wonder.

“Want to tell me your latest plan to bring me over to the dark side? To release Angelus on the world?” He came a step closer, Connor quiet now, watching with a smile on his pudgy face.

Leaning down, he whispered, still in that softly deadly voice that caressed and enveloped, and made the listener want to melt in a pool of arousal, helpless at his feet as he took her. “You have no idea what you’re playing with, little girl. You don’t know either of us, and the fire you’ve started is going to burn you alive.”

Jerking back a step, Lilah tried to compose herself. She could’ve sworn he’d sniffed her, too, and that was just gross. “Oh, I don’t know, Angel,” she smiled, eyes locked with his. “I can think of a few things you wouldn’t expect. As for Angelus…let me be the judge of him. I’m sure he’ll be a lot more…accommodating….than you.”

Angel’s laughter was full of genuine humor and a hint of menace. “Lilah, Lilah, Lilah,” he sighed, placing Connor in his playpen, back towards the lawyer. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere, no their weekly cat and mouse game wasn’t nearly finished, and they both knew it.

Turning back on her with lightening quick speed, his arm shot out and caught her by the throat. Just hard enough to choke, to render helpless, but not nearly so much as to bruise or kill. “Where is She?”

“What?” she sputtered. What the hell was he talking about…better, how the hell did he know about Buffy? Damn…was he really psychic? That wasn’t in the files. But then hadn’t she just finished telling his beloved slayer that the Senior Partners weren’t as up on their research as they supposed?

“Don’t lie,” he snapped. “Where is She?”

“Angel?” Fred’s voice echoed around the quiet lobby, interrupting the game they and Lilah played. Dropping the lawyer to the ground, eyes still that golden-brown, they waited as she stood, smoothing hair and skirt, the amused look she’d perfected back on her face.

“Why don’t you go play house, Angel,” she laughed as Fred and Gunn entered the lobby.

“We’ll find Her, Lilah,” Angel promised. “And when we do, you’ll wish you’d stayed out of it.”

With that, he returned to Connor, lifting his son out of the playpen and left the room. Lilah watched him go, glanced once at Fred and Gunn, and left. They didn’t interest her, not in the least. Except as a way to get to Angel. But that wasn’t going to work – from what she learned, Gunn had sworn to kill the vampire should Angelus ever return, and Fred. Well, Fred was just a loser. A smart one, but a loser nonetheless.

“What,” she wondered as she walked into the sunlight. “Had he meant by ‘we’?”

~~~~~~~~~~

‘She’s back,’ Angel said, once back in their rooms, Connor again the happy child he normally was.

‘Yes,’ Angelus agreed. ‘But then we knew that. The question is, where is Lilah hiding Her, and what did the lawyer-bitch do to Her?’

‘I don’t know, but She’s back. She’s alive again. They pulled Her out of heaven because of us. Lilah is going to die’

‘Oh, I’m in full agreement, but I think we need better backup first.’

‘Spike and Faith?’

‘Unfortunately, yes. Your team isn’t really a team, and they don’t trust us, anyway. And if we started insisting She was back, they’d probably pull the same shit they did with Darla. Ah, Darla…shame she didn’t hold our interest as she once did. Shame she didn’t realize that and leave when she had the chance.’

‘You were bored with Darla unless she was purposely creating havoc for you to revel in,’ Angel reminded his demon. ‘And don’t try to lie to me, we both know better now.’

Angelus laughed, but didn’t contradict. So Angel continued. ‘Darla is the past. She’s our future and always was. I don’t trust Willow or Xander at all, so Spike and Faith it is.’

‘Call them tonight. We’re going to get our Mate back.’

Setting Connor down for his nap, they stretched out next to him, closing eyes that saw Her everywhere. She haunted and teased them, pieces of Her life always there before them. And still, they couldn’t find Her. The only place they hadn’t tried was the Wolfram & Hart building, and the reasons for that were simple. The place was too big to search alone and Connor was a priority to them that She would have insisted on. And that the child’s love ensured.

She came to them, smiling Her love, holding Her arms out as Her mouth whispered words of longing and devotion. “I love you,” She said, Her words floating around them, weaving the perfect spell to captivate their attention away from all else. “I’m always with you.”

“Love You,” they said, entering Her in a single thrust that caught Her breath and darkened Her eyes with fire and need. “Always You. We can’t live without You, it hurts.”

“I’ll never leave you, my darling,” She said and kissed them as they moved together, the perfect unison of forever and now. “All you have to do is find me.”

“Buffy!” they shouted and woke with a start, rock hard and aching for Her. Connor was still asleep, so they moved him to his crib and headed for the shower to relieve their arousal. It wasn’t how they’d wanted to, but She wasn’t there, and She was the only one they’d make love to, anyway.

“We swear, Love,” Angel said as his hands ran over his cock, imaging it was Her mouth, Her hands. “We’ll find You.”

~~~~~~~~~~

February 14

“Okay, what’s going on here?” Faith demanded. She’d had it this week; there was a wacky theft from the museum, some kind of strange happening at the only other club in Sunnydale not The Bronze, and there were crazy geeks after her – and she swore one of them went to high school with Buffy. Couldn’t be positive on that, what with the ditching and fighting and evil bit, but nearly so. And hey, he should know better. Bastard. Making her life harder when Buffy had done nothing but make his easier; Faith should kill him just for that.

Not to mention there was the ongoing concern that Willow might actually do something right for once, and bring Buffy back form the dead – right as in done correctly, not in the right thing sense. Spike and Angel might actually find that out, and then she’d have two homicidal vampires on the loose that she wasn’t sure she could stop. Or wanted to.

This wasn’t her week.

And now this? It had to be the strangest thing she’d seen in a good long while. Probably in her entire life.

“Dinner, luv,” Spike laughed, leading her further into the mansion. “Remember, we do this every night?”

“Well,” she nodded, numb at the sight before her. “Yeah. But…this isn’t dinner.”

Again with that laugh. “Then what do you call it?”

She wasn’t sure what to call it. But it wasn’t dinner. Or not just dinner. It was flowers and rose petals, champagne and really good looking food. And it was a half naked Spike obviously waiting for her to get back from patrol. It was…romantic.

“Why?” she managed.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day, Faith,” he told her seriously. “Everyone should have something romantic done for them on Valentine’s Day.”

Looking at him with sharp eyes, Faith wondered if it was more than that. If it was something she wasn’t getting. But his eyes, as always, let her see no secrets, no hidden emotions or thoughts. They were bright blue, serious, and caring.

“I…I didn’t get you anything,” she admitted in a quiet and somehow shy voice. She’d known it was Valentine’s Day; she’d have to be blind to miss the red and pink hearts plastered to every store window in the city. She just didn’t know that she was supposed to do something about it. Or that she was going to receive something from it.

Again with that warm chuckle that slid over her, making her think of things like dark rooms and cool caresses, hot kisses and long nights spent with her lover. “I didn’t ask for anything. What,” Spike demanded as he tugged her down beside him, onto the picnic-style setting they often used, “Could I possibly need that I don’t already have?”

 

“Boxers with cute little hearts on them?” Faith shot back, uncomfortable with this level of intimacy. Sex she could handle. Hot fucking, even the sometimes more tender love making between them. But this…no. It was so far beyond her realm of experience, it wasn’t even in the same galaxy.

“Just relax, luv,” Spike whispered against her ear, and she shivered as lust shot through her. “Enjoy the night. Don’t think about those geeks; don’t think about the Scoobs that are worse than useless. Just relax and enjoy the night.”

Doing her best to take his advice, Faith let Spike feed her – strawberries, apple slices, pieces of tender chicken and several varieties of vegetables he always insisted she needed to maintain her strength. And later, when she was full and fully relaxed, he made love to her with slow, exquisite care, whispering words of emotions she had no idea about, and yet caused her to shake even more when she realized what he was telling her.

And just as she was about to fall asleep, sated and warm, safe and comfortable in their bed, she swore she heard Spike murmur, “I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

February 21

“Xander’s screwed up,” Faith said as she and Spike pounded on a group of vamps.

“Well, he screwed up,” Spike pointed out. “You don’t leave Anya at the alter and expect to get away with it. In fact, I’m surprised she hasn’t done something to him already.”

“Like what?” Faith asked as she rammed her stake through the nearest vamp’s heart. It exploded in a wave of dust even as she turned to defend her back against the next one. Where all these vampires came from, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t liking it. Their had been an influx of the assholes in the last few weeks. No one, not even Willie, knew why.

“Damn it!” she growled. “That was my favorite shirt!” she looked down at the hole running along her sleeve.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Spike promised.

“Bastard,” she directed her comment at the vampire, who looked at her in shock – probably over the favorite shirt comment – and redoubled her efforts on him. In no time, he, too, was dust.

“Think about it, luv,” Spike said, truly enjoying himself. It wasn’t often so many vamps ganged up on them. But he strongly suspected these were out-of-towners. Specifically, from LA. When they got back to the mansion tonight, he was going to call Angel. There was something wrong there.

“Anya was a vengeance demon. Now she’s one again. She’s pissed, and she’s got the power.” he laughed. “And Xander’s damn lucky not to be a frog or something now.”

“I can’t believe he was stupid enough,” Faith ducked a blow, but caught a second one, staggering backwards into a wall. “Damn it, where are you guys from?”

“LA,” one actually answered, much to Spike’s unsurprised snort.

“Figures,” he mumbled. “Angel had to send them here?”

“So Xander dumps a Vengeance Demon at the alter,” Faith continued, truly pissed now. First her shirt, now she was literally seeing stars. They were going to die. Painfully. Horribly, and dusty. “Doesn’t he see that love wasn’t meant to be fucked with like that?”

“He doesn’t get it, pet,” Spike dusted his last one, watching his lover wail on the remaining visitor. “He doesn’t understand what some of us would do to have that.”

Faith looked up, just as she was about to dust the vamp. “No,” she brought the stake down without looking. “No, I don’t suppose he does.”

Standing, she watched him. Finally, taking a chance she didn’t know she had in her, she held out her hand to him. “Call Angel when we get home, okay?” he nodded as they walked out of the cemetery. “Something’s going down there, and I’m afraid he’s not going to deal with it well.”

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