A LETTER TO RILEY - Part Five

"A Letter To Riley - Part Five"
by Debbie Nockels
(April 2001)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon, MutantEnemy, Sandollar, Kuzui, the WB, Fox, etc.
NOTES: The song is "With You I'm Born Again," sung by Billy Preston and Syreeta. And that's all the info I was able to find on it. I don't know who wrote it. I wish I did; I try to give credit whenever possible.
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�� Silence. Then Xander got to his feet, pocketing the water gun. "Whew! Fifty points for stealth and timing, Dead Boy."

�� Ignoring him, Angel went to Buffy, gave her his hand to help her rise. "Are you okay?"

�� Buffy grimaced and unbuttoned her jacket. Beneath it was the latest in bulletproof vests, which she'd swiped from the Initiative before they disbanded. Two blood bags dangled from the vest, empty now. "Considering that I feel like I've been pounded by one of those jackhammer things they use to break up concrete, I guess I'm okay."

�� Angel helped her unbuckle the vest, Buffy hissing with every movement. "Sorry. I know this hurts." Beneath the vest she wore a soft, thick sweater.

�� "Yeah, it does," she agreed fervently. "But I'd be hurting a lot worse if I hadn't been wearing it. Good thing our hunch paid off, that since she used guns before she'd try them again." Gingerly she lifted the hem of her sweater and peered down at her belly. "So, do I look like raw hamburger?"

�� "Not too bad," Xander stated, inspecting the area. Big red splotches already marred the delicate skin where the bullets had impacted the vest. "It'll look a lot worse in a few hours, though."

�� "Thanks," Buffy responded drily, letting the sweater drop again.

�� "You'll be better tomorrow," Angel reminded her with a little smile.

�� Xander had taken the gun from him and was examining it. "You should be grateful she only got off four shots."

�� "Right," Buffy said, even more drily. "Grateful."

�� Xander showed her the weapon, deftly extracted the clip. "This is a ten-shooter, Buff. Just think how sore you'd be if she'd loosed off all ten of these babies."

�� Buffy made a face. "Thanks, I'd rather not. Okay, Xan, you win. I'm grateful. Now what do you say we call it a night? I so want to get this ick off me." Grimacing, she touched her pants, where blood had gushed from the bags she'd been wearing to fool Darla into believing her shots had hit home.

�� "I'm with you," Xander declared, touching his own bloody clothing. "I feel like walking vampire chum." Angel didn't say anything, just stayed next to Buffy when they headed out of the cemetery. Buffy insisted on escorting Xander home as a safety precaution, and asked him to call Giles to let him know they were all right.

�� "How long has he lived here?" Angel asked her as they walked away from the apartment complex. "It's a nice place."

�� "Uh, I don't know, four or five months, I guess," she told him. "It is nice. Anya loves it."

�� "So they're still together?" Angel was surprised. "I have to say I never thought that relationship would last."

�� "Me neither," answered Buffy. "But it's nice that someone's able to get it right. Of course, Willow and Tara are still going strong too."

�� Angel shot her a quizzical glance. "Tara?"

�� "I forgot you haven't met Tara. She's Willow's lover." Buffy cocked an eye at him. "You don't seem surprised."

�� "No," he replied equably. "Not after seeing her vampire double that time. Remember, I started to say then that a vampire displays aspects of its victim's personality - but you stopped me."

�� Remembering, Buffy smiled. "Oh yeah. Willow really didn't need to hear that just then; she was freaked enough by the whole evil twin thing."

�� "Probably not," he agreed. Silence fell, a rather awkward silence that neither of them knew how to break.

�� Buffy spoke first. "You haven't said anything about Riley not being around. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

�� "Uh, no," said Angel, "I noticed. I. . . didn't know how to bring it up." Especially since he already knew why the soldier boy wasn't there.

�� "He left me," Buffy told him, starkly.

�� "I know."

�� "He couldn't handle - " She stopped in her tracks, stared at him. "What do you mean, you know? How could you possibly know that Riley left me? Who told you?"

�� He looked at her for a long time without answering, as if weighing his options. Just as she was about to lose patience he said, "You did."

�� She stared some more. Which of them had lost their mind here? "What?" And of all the inane responses she could have made. . . .

�� They'd reached her house. Angel leaned against the tree in front. He hesitated then said, slowly, obviously choosing his words, "About ten nights ago I was . . . home, in my bedroom. This literally dropped out of nowhere."

�� He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pale blue envelope that reminded her of her own stationery envelopes. Buffy took it from him. Her eyes widened. Her return address was printed on it. It was one of her envelopes. Peeking inside, she caught a glimpse of the letter it contained. A glimpse was all she needed.

�� "How?" She stared up at him. "How did you get this?" She tried to remember when she'd last noticed the letter lying on her desk, but couldn't. To be honest, she hadn't given it even a thought in . . . well, quite a few days.

�� Angel shook his head. "It was through magic, obviously - but why it came to me and who sent it, I have no idea." He paused then added, "Buffy - I, I read it."

�� She'd figured as much once she saw the envelope was no longer sealed, but still experienced a surge of anger. "You read it," she repeated flatly, "even after you saw the letter wasn't for you." It was an accusation, not a question.

�� Angel faced her, his brown eyes steady. "Yes. I know that makes you angry and I don't blame you. And I know I should apologize for reading something so private - but I can't. In fact, I'm grateful that I did, because reading what you had to say about us and about your relationship with Riley was what really snapped me out of my obsession with Darla, and I can't be sorry for that."

�� Buffy blinked, confused. "Giles' spell - " she began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. "Giles' spell helped a lot, but it was your letter that got me started back on the road to . . . whatever passes for normal with me. Ever since I read it I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. I've been carrying it with me everywhere and looking at it about ten times a day. I've practically got it memorized."

�� Buffy moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. "Why?"

�� "Because I'd given up hoping that you still loved me." His face, his eyes, revealed such naked emotion that it literally took her breath away. "What you said to me last year - "

�� "Don't," she interrupted, her voice harsh with guilt. "Don't remind me of the horrible things I said then. I was so angry . . . and hurt . . . I wanted to hurt you, the way -" She faltered.

�� " - the way I'd hurt you," Angel finished softly, "with Faith. Buffy, you know there was never anything like that between us."

�� "I know." Buffy took a deep breath, determined to be honest even if it killed her. "I knew it even then, deep down, but . . . it was such a shock, seeing you two, like that . . . after what she'd done to me . . . and you took her side . . . and then later in the police station you told that blonde cop I was nobody - " The memory still hurt. Her eyes grew wet.

�� "God," Angel breathed, closing his eyes. "Kate - I remember." He took a step toward her, hands pleading, shadows from the rustling branches moving across his face. "Buffy, I just didn't want her attention on you. She was so furious that night - irrational, really - I didn't know what she might do. That's all it was, I swear. I was trying to protect you. God, I never thought you'd - " He broke off. "How could you believe I meant it?"

�� The tears spilled over. "The same way you could believe that I meant what I said," she told him. "Because we hadn't seen each other in almost a year - well, except for that ten minutes in your office after Thanksgiving - "

�� Angel glanced away for a second.

�� " - and we didn't know what to expect anymore. In some ways we were almost strangers - at least, you were, to me."

�� "No," he said, softly but with surety. "Not strangers. Never that, Buffy. Yes, I've changed - someday when there's time I'll tell you exactly how much - but one thing is still the same. I love you, Buffy Summers. I'll always love you, no matter what." He moved another step closer, eyes intent.

�� Buffy choked back a sob. "Me too. I'll always love you, Angel." Slowly she went into his arms, laying her head on his chest. Angel pressed a kiss on top of her head. They stood like that for long minutes, arms encircling, locked together not passionately but with reverence . . . regret . . . forgiveness . . . and most of all, love. Finally Buffy raised her head.

�� "Angel, I'm sorry. What I said that day, it wasn't true."

�� "Shh," he murmured, caressing her cheek. "I know; it's okay."

�� "It's not okay," she denied. Her eyes searched his, pleading with him to believe her. "I do trust you - with anything, everything . . . even my life."

�� "Oh, Buffy," Angel whispered, and she was drowning in his gaze - the warmth, the love piercing her like a knife. He made a slight movement toward her upturned face, as if to kiss her, but stopped himself. "If we go any farther we'll only want more." His gaze belied his reasonable words; it was yearning . . . hungry. Starving.

�� Exactly the way she was feeling. "Yes," she admitted, her voice thin, almost a whisper.

�� "And nothing's changed." Moisture glistened in his eyes.

�� "Yes," she said again, "nothing's changed - and everything's changed. We've changed. We're different, Angel; our lives aren't the same as they were two years ago. I think what we have to ask ourselves now is which is worse: the pain when we're together or the pain when we're apart."

�� "Yes . . ." he breathed, his eyes locked on hers. ". . . no . . . it doesn't matter; I don't care."

�� "Neither do I."

�� Slowly he bent down. Buffy closed her eyes. Their lips touched, and the pounding of her heart almost choked her. Softly they kissed, gently, rediscovering each other. She'd forgotten the coolness of Angel's lips. They were firm but still soft and tender. His hands caressed her face, stroked her back just as she remembered, their touch loving and knowing. His kisses were sweet and unhurried, but not tentative in the least.

�� She sighed, a sigh that felt as if it came from her very toes, and two years' worth of knotted tension began to unravel. A sense of peace enfolded her, and security. There would be anger and recriminations and explanations in the future, on both their sides - she knew that. But for now she was in Angel's arms once more, and she was safe.

�� Instinctively Buffy pressed closer, her arms leaving his waist to twine around his neck - as much as they could, she being so much shorter. She caressed his neck, played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Angel's arms gradually tightened, and their kisses grew more serious. He bent over and Buffy rose up on her toes, the better to reach his mouth. Their tongues came into play now, brushing, tasting, delicately . . . then with less delicacy.

�� Emotion surged like a wave; her legs began to tremble. Angel was holding her so tightly she had trouble breathing, but she barely noticed. They were kissing fiercely now, with little moaning sounds, moving back into the shadow of the tree.

�� "Geeze, Buffy, what kind of an example is this to be setting your little sister? Making out in the front yard. What would Mom say?"

�� They pushed apart to find a young girl with long brown hair confronting them, a smirk on her face and her hands on her hips. As Angel looked up and the girl caught sight of his face, however, her smug expression changed ludicrously to one of utter shock. Her jaw dropped. "Angel? What are you doing here?"

�� "Uh . . . hi," Angel greeted her, guessing who this must be but not calling her by name, just in case. He kept slightly behind Buffy until things, uh, settled down a bit. "One of my . . . problems in L.A. migrated here, so I came to . . . to help out."

�� Normally Dawn would have responded with a wisecrack, but she was too shaken. She stared at her sister. "You were kissing!" Her tone was accusatory.

�� "Very good. You pass the nighttime vision part of your eye exam." Buffy leaned against Angel, pulling his arm around her. "Now in the morning we'll find out if you can see the little letters at the bottom of the chart." Dawn had startled her with her sudden appearance, but she was darned if she'd let herself be rattled by her kid sister. "It's late, Dawn. Why aren't you in bed?"

�� Dawn ignored this too. "He was kissing you. And you were kissing him. There was a whole big, wet, kissing fest going on - with Angel!"

�� "Right." Buffy met Dawn's unbelieving gaze steadily.

�� "But - " Throwing out her arms, Dawn looked around wildly, as if searching for answers. "What about Riley? I mean, two weeks ago you wrote him this whole big letter all about how much you love him and miss him, and the minute Angel shows up you just forget it all?"

�� Buffy sighed and moved forward, leaving Angel's embrace with reluctance. "Dawn, the letter I wrote to Riley was not about how much I loved him."

�� Dawn looked stunned. "But - but you said it was." Then she reverted to her usual confrontational attitude, eyes narrowing, folding her arms in front of her. "You told me it said that you missed him and were sorry he'd left."

�� "I did tell you that," Buffy acknowledged, "but only to stop you asking questions. What the letter really was, was an apology because I'd realized I never did love him. That I still loved Angel."

�� Dawn opened her mouth but shut it again without saying a word. She stared from Buffy to Angel and back again, then her eyes fell on the envelope Buffy still held in one hand, rather crumpled now. "That's the letter, isn't it? You're actually showing Riley's letter to Angel. That is so tacky." Her accusation lacked its normal zing.

�� "First of all, Angel was showing it to me," Buffy told her, watching her face with a slight frown. "Secondly, it's not Riley's letter, it's my letter, and I can show it to anyone I want."

�� "What do you mean, Angel showed it to you?" demanded her sister. "How did he get it?" She paused. "I mean, how could Angel have your letter - unless he, you know, sneaked in and stole it or something." She gave an uneasy little laugh. "Which of course he didn't do, but . . . " Her voice trailed off.

�� "There's kind of a mystery about that," Buffy said, still watching Dawn. "The letter seems to have been sent to Angel with magic."

�� Dawn gawked. "Magic sent the letter to Angel?"

�� That was interesting. Dawn's incredulity was about who had received the letter, not that it had been sent by magic. Buffy glanced at Angel, who raised a discreet eyebrow. So he'd also noticed and was wondering the same thing she was. "Dawn, did you do it?"

�� "Do what?" Dawn countered. "Send Riley's letter to Angel? Oh, yeah, right, it was me. Because I'm so good at magic." She glared at her sister. "Maybe you should ask Willow about it; she's the witch, not me."

�� Buffy regarded her closely, but all she saw was the sullen, mulish look so familiar to her. She sighed. "Go back in the house, Dawn." Without another word Dawn whirled around and stalked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

�� Buffy sighed again. "Talk about breaking a mood."

�� "Same old Dawn, I see - " Angel stopped in mid-sentence, startled and awed by the memories pouring through his mind. Dawn, much younger, with braces on her teeth, impudently asking for movie money in exchange for leaving them alone . . . sniggering when Xander called him Dead Boy . . . staring at him wide-eyed with fright as Angelus confronted her outside Starbucks one cloudy afternoon . . . confronting him after he'd told Buffy he was leaving Sunnydale, raging at him, calling him a loser and a coward and a dweeb . . . whatever that was.

�� He looked at Buffy. "I remember her," was all he said, but Buffy understood. "Interesting," she said. "Giles will think so, for sure. I wonder why the monks' spell didn't work on you to begin with. Maybe you had to get close to her. Physically, I mean."

�� Then she shook herself. "Well, that can wait. You might as well come in. I have an interrogation to conduct and it might take a while. Then, after, we can . . . talk." They shared a look, the memory of their kiss trembling between them. Slowly they came together, lips meeting, arms embracing. Instantly the heat began to build.

�� Breaking off the kiss but staying loosely entwined in his embrace, Buffy marveled, "All I have to do is touch you and it's like a fever races through me."

�� Angel swallowed hard. "I know. For me too." Clasping hands, they turned and moved toward the house.

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�� Dawn closed her bedroom door - quietly because her mother was sleeping across the hall - and threw herself at the telephone. "Come on, pick up," she muttered as it rang and rang on the other end. Finally someone answered, and it was the right someone. "Anya, it's Dawn. Something went wrong - "

�� Anya interrupted her. "Why are you calling this late at night? Don't you know that's inconsiderate? We could have been . . . sleeping, and you would have woken us up."

�� "Anya!" Dawn raised her voice, then lowered it again with a furtive look at the door. She turned her back to it in an instinctive move to lessen the risk of her voice traveling into the hall. "Something went wrong with that letter we sent to Riley. It went to Angel instead."

�� Silence. Then the sound of movement and a door closing. "Okay, Xander's in the other room," Anya said. "The letter went to Angel? You're sure?"

�� "Yes," hissed Dawn. "They told me so, just a few minutes ago. You should have seen them, kissing out there in the front yard where anyone could see them. It was - "

�� Her voice died away. She'd been going to say it was disgusting, but she couldn't. Before she'd realized it was Angel, she'd thought the passionate embrace was . . . well . . . sweet. Touching. She'd been happy because things were obviously going to be okay. Then Angel looked up and she saw who it was, and everything got crazy again.

�� "Kissing?" Anya sounded confused. "Who was kissing?"

�� "Buffy and Angel," Dawn told her, despondent now. "He's here in Sunnydale. Anya, what happened? Why did it go wrong?"

�� "Let me think for a minute." There was silence, then, smugly, "Of course. It's so obvious. The spell mentioned her true love, so if the letter went to Angel, then Buffy loves him not Riley." Dawn could almost see Anya's shrug.

�� "That's what Buffy said, that she loves Angel," she muttered. Then she thought of something. "Wait a minute. The spell also mentioned Riley's name, didn't it? And the letter was addressed to Riley, so I don't understand why it wouldn't have been sent to him anyway, in spite of that dumb true love thing."

�� Silence again. "Maybe it was," Anya said, slowly.

�� "Huh?" Now Dawn was even more confused.

�� She heard Anya take a breath. "Spells are very complex things. Sometimes intent counts as much as what's said. You remember how it took a while before the letter disappeared?"

�� "Yeah." Dawn retained a vivid image of the blue envelope hovering in the air, vibrating, for several moments before it vanished.

�� "I think it was confused - I mean, the spell gave it two different commands. One command said to go to Riley; the other said to go to Buffy's true love, which we now know is Angel. And - there's something I didn't mention at the time, something I saw."

�� Anya took in another breath. "Just as the letter disappeared I thought I saw . . . two letters."

�� "You mean - " Dawn swallowed the dismay rising in her throat. "Anya, you mean you think the letter . . . cloned itself? That it got sent to both of them? Angel and Riley?"

�� "I'm afraid so." Anya sounded subdued, unusual for her.

�� Dawn rolled over onto her back with a loud groan. "Oh, no! How could this happen? I thought sending the letter would make everything good again! Instead - man, could things get any worse?"

�� "Of course they could," came a voice from the doorway. "You should know that by now; it's one of Murphy's Laws or something. So Anya was your partner in crime. It figures."

�� Already knowing what she'd see, Dawn looked up. It was Buffy. How had she opened the door without her hearing? "Gotta go," she mumbled into the phone, then slowly hung up the receiver and sat up, facing her sister, who came into the room, closing the door behind her. "You didn't knock. Haven't you ever heard of showing respect for people's privacy?" she snapped, trying to summon defiance to hide behind.

�� "Haven't you?" Buffy replied, looking her in the eye. "As regards other people's letters, for instance?" Dawn's glare wavered and fell. All of a sudden she became intensely interested in the design on her bedspread, tracing the textured pattern with one finger. Buffy sat down next to her.

�� "Why did you do it?" she asked, simply.

�� She saw Dawn's throat work as she swallowed. Her voice came out in a strained mumble. "You . . . were so sad. I thought it was because you were missing him - Riley. Because you loved him. I thought if he only knew, he'd come back . . . or at least write . . . and things would get better."

�� Her voice, her downcast eyes, her whole manner proclaimed she was telling the truth. Buffy looked at her somberly. "Dawn, you know what you did was wrong. And if I understand correctly - that you think both Angel and Riley got the letter - "

�� She paused; Dawn nodded miserably. Buffy's mouth tightened. "Then you've caused pain for one of the nicest, most decent men on this earth, someone I do care about even if I'm not in love with him. Someone I thought you liked too."

�� "I know," Dawn mumbled, blinking rapidly. "And I do like Riley, he's nice. But . . . I didn't know it would hurt him. I thought it would make him happy." Here she gave Buffy a pleading, contrite look, that quickly changed to one of indignation. "But you lied to me about what the letter was about. If you'd told me the truth none of this would have happened, you know."

�� "Stop it," Buffy told her sharply. "You're not turning this into my fault. That letter was none of your business, regardless of what you thought was in it. It was my personal property. You had no right to do anything with it, Dawn."

�� Dawn slumped, averting her eyes again. "I know. I'm sorry." A tear slid out from one lowered eye.

�� "Thank you," Buffy said softly.

�� Dawn's sullen eyes came up. "For what? Groveling?"

�� "For caring. For wanting to help."

�� A frown creased Dawn's forehead; blue eyes studied her suspiciously. "You're not mad at me?"

�� "Not really - not anymore." Buffy had to smile at the wary expression on her sister's face. "For one thing, if you hadn't done this Angel wouldn't be here."

�� Studying her, Dawn said, "And you're really glad about that, aren't you?"

�� "Yes."

�� Yes, Dawn thought. You've got that look you used to have, that . . . glow . . . you always had when Angel was around. When your nose wasn't all shiny and red from crying, anyway.

�� "So," she said aloud, "you two are getting back together again?"

�� A wry smile curved Buffy's mouth. "I wish it were that simple. I don't know what's going to happen, Dawn. I do know that things will be different - and I hope, better."

�� Dawn brightened and said, slyly, "So . . . it's good that I - "

�� Buffy cut her off with a sudden glare. "No, it's not good! Think of Riley and how he's probably feeling right now, and don't ever do anything like it again." She stood up.

�� "Okay," Dawn muttered sullenly. Buffy favored her with another stern, big-sister look, then left. Dawn lay back with her hands clasped behind her head. A smile spread over her face. An extremely complacent smile. But it faded quickly as an image of Riley reading Buffy's letter rose to her mind. Her eyes filled with tears and she rolled over, letting them fall onto her pillow.

<><><><><><><><><>

�� As Buffy came down the stairs she saw Angel in the living room, looking at family portraits on the wall. He gave her a quizzical glance. "I didn't hear any yelling. Is she still in one piece?"

�� Buffy plopped down on the couch with a loud sigh; Angel seated himself next to her. "I couldn't stay mad at her," she admitted ruefully. "I mean, she really thought she was helping." They were both speaking quietly, even though it was unlikely Joyce would hear them through her closed bedroom door, upstairs. "The worst part of this whole thing is that I think Riley got the letter too. Tomorrow I'll talk to Anya and get all the details - she was the one who cast the spell," she explained.

�� Angel nodded, but something flickered across his face, too quickly for her to identify it. "What?" As he opened his mouth, she held up a finger. "Huh-uh. You had a really strange look on your face and I want to know why."

�� Angel nodded slowly. "All right. Riley did get the letter."

�� "What?" When he nodded again, she said, "How would you know?"

�� "Because he came to see me a few days ago and told me," he answered. "He wanted to let me know that you still loved me."

�� Buffy stared at him. "He - what?" She knew she must be gaping like a fish, but she couldn't help it. Angel started to repeat himself, but she shook her head. "Never mind; I heard you the first time. It just had to sink in." They were silent.

�� "It was . . . very generous of him," Angel said, forcing the words out. He would do the honorable thing and give Riley his due if it was the last thing he did.

�� "Riley's a generous person," Buffy replied, quietly. "If I didn't think it would just make things worse I'd make Dawn write him an apology. Whatever stupid things he might have done, he didn't deserve to be hurt like that."

�� Angel stirred. "Buffy . . . I'm not trying to deny that he's hurting, but . . . from what I read in the letter, he was in a lot of pain already. Why else would he have turned to feeding vampires?"

�� "Yeah, he was, but I'm sure the letter didn't help things." Then Buffy shifted to face him. "Angel, we haven't talked about how you're feeling right now. You killed Darla tonight - again." It was obvious she didn't want to talk anymore about Riley. "How are you handling that?"

�� "Fine," Angel assured her. "I think whatever spell Wolfram & Hart used must have been tied to her, because I can hardly feel it now."

�� "How do you feel?" Buffy persisted. Her hand came to rest on top of his. He absently caressed it while considering his answer.

�� "A little sad, melancholy, whatever you want to call it," he said finally. "But that's only because I couldn't bring myself to kill her before." He held up a hand. �I know, the spell wouldn't let me . . . but . . ." He shrugged. "I'm also very thankful. Buffy, you didn't see her eyes when she died. I did."

�� "What did you see in them?" She squeezed his hand gently.

�� "Gratitude." His gaze met hers. "In that last split-second before she turned to dust, she was thanking me for giving her peace." Moisture softened the rich brown of his eyes, and Buffy felt responsive wetness rise to her own - for his sake, not Darla's. "I'm glad," she murmured.

�� Over in the corner soft music had been coming from the CD player. Buffy hadn't even noticed. Joyce frequently forgot to turn it off when she went to bed, and she'd grown so accustomed to it that sometimes she wasn't even aware of the sound. Now an old song from the sixties - or maybe seventies, all she knew was that it was one her mom always sang along with - began playing, a male voice, soft and warm. The words caught her attention. Angel listened too.

Come bring me your softness,
Comfort me through all this madness
Woman, don't you know with you
I'm born again?

�� Their eyes met. Now a woman sang, high and sweet.

Come give me your sweetness,
Now there's you, there is no weakness
Lying safe within your arms
I'm born again

�� Memories. Patrolling together . . . fighting side by side or back to back . . . lost in each other's arms . . . Now the two voices came together.

I was half, not whole,
In step with none
Reaching through this world
In need of one

�� . . . staring at each other in the sewer, equally stunned by the suddenness of their breakup, equally heartbroken . . .

�� Again the man sang.

Come show me your kindness,
In your arms I know I'll find this
Woman, don't you know with you
I'm born again?
Lying safe with you,
I'm born again

�� Buffy and Angel remained gazing at each other while the love song played on. Patrolling, fighting, loving, breaking up . . . everything that had gone into their relationship, grief and joy, tears and anger . . . all of it was important . . . and none of it was, because here and now was all that really mattered, and right now they were together. The two voices, male and female, chimed together, slower now, softer, bringing the song to a close.

Lying safe with you
I'm born . . .
Again. . . .

�� Without quite knowing how she got there, Buffy found herself in Angel's arms. Their lips met in a long, tender kiss, and only the knowledge that Dawn could come down the stairs at any moment caused them at long last, reluctantly, to draw apart.

�� Brushing a strand of hair off her forehead, Angel swallowed. "It's late. I better go."

�� Buffy froze. "You're going back tonight?" She could hardly speak for the tightness in her throat. After everything that had happened between them that night, he was leaving? Again?

�� "No!" He kissed her reassuringly. "No. I only meant I needed to leave here. The house. We can't . . . talk here, and besides you must be exhausted."

�� "Not particularly," Buffy told him. "Too much adrenaline, I guess. But you're right that we can't talk here. Where are you staying?"

�� "Uh . . . " Angel hadn't even thought of that. He gave a surprised chuckle. "I don't know. Giles has a spare room; I guess I could call him."

�� "Or you could go to the mansion," Buffy suggested, then had second thoughts. "No, I guess everything would be all dusty."

�� "Actually, it shouldn't be too bad," said Angel, considering. "I covered all the furniture with dust sheets before I left, and anyway, it's not as if I would be breathing in the dust."

�� "Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten the covers," Buffy commented, before she thought.

�� "You've been there?" Angel was surprised. "Since I left?"

�� Buffy hesitated, not wanting to admit how often her patrolling duties had managed to take her by Angel's old house. "A couple of times, but not recently." She got up. Angel looked uncertainly at her and she answered his unspoken question. "I'm going with you. We need to talk, didn't you say?"

�� "We do," he agreed.

�� "Then give me ten minutes to shower and change my clothes."

�� Angel watched her run quietly up the stairs. The thought brushed his mind that he should just leave, now, without saying goodbye, but as quickly as it formed he rejected it. No, there would be no more running away. Seeing Buffy again, especially now that the spell binding him to Darla was gone, had cleared his mind. Maybe it wasn't possible for them to see each other, maybe it would be better - easier - safer, if they stayed apart and lived completely separate lives - but if so, it would be because that was what Buffy wanted. Never again would he make that decision for her.

�� He sat down on the couch to wait for her.

On To Part Six

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