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       Angel paused in the open doorway.  Buffy was sleeping, and he watched her in silence, drinking in the sight of her.  She was obviously feeling better, for her hair was clean now, falling loosely around her shoulders, which meant she'd taken a shower.  Also, her face had more color in it, which went a long way toward dispelling the wraithlike appearance of the night before and made her look more like the girl he remembered.  

       Or maybe he was just seeing her with new eyes since learning that the main obstacle that had kept them apart for three years no longer existed.  A lingering aroma of food made him sniff questioningly.  

       "She insisted that she was starving for a Big Mac."  Speaking in a low murmur, Joyce got up from the chair by the window where she'd been going through her mail, and came over.  "So Xander brought her two of them, also a giant vanilla shake and the biggest order of fries I've ever seen.  Even before the accident, Buffy couldn't have eaten half that much."

       Angel smiled.  "Why do I get the feeling that Xander wasn't being completely unselfish by bringing all that food?"

       Joyce grinned.  "Because you know Xander.  He ended up eating everything Buffy didn't."  Then she grew serious.  Checking to make sure Buffy was still asleep, she said, "Giles told me about the curse, and I'm so happy for you, Angel.  And relieved."

       "Thank you.  So am I," Angel replied, although in fact he still wasn't sure just what all he was feeling.  He never had gotten back to sleep, and a whole day's worth of ruminations had only clarified the fact of his confusion.

       Joyce studied him.  "It changes everything, doesn't it?" she said with compassion.

       "Everything," he agreed.  "Even the way I look at her.  I'm not sure I've really taken it in yet," he suddenly added, much to his own surprise, since he wasn't the confiding type usually.  Not with Buffy's mother, at least.

       Joyce's smile conveyed understanding.  "Big shocks like that usually do take a while to sink in, whether they're good or bad.  I'm sure Buffy will do her best to help you with the process."  Her eyes twinkled and the smile grew briefly mischievous, then she went on.  "Well, I'll leave you two alone, but I'll be back around nine-thirty to say good-night to Buffy before I go to bed.  Oh, I almost forgot."

       She reached into her jacket pocket.  "This fell off Buffy's finger while she was sleeping.  Since she wasn't wearing any rings before your visit, I assume you gave it to her?"  At Angel's nod she handed the claddagh ring to him.  "See you later, Angel."  Stuffing the mail into her purse, she left.

       "Thank you."  Then Angel remembered his manners and belatedly called after her, "Oh, good-night."  Already several doors away, Buffy's mother smiled over her shoulder, acknowledging his words with a small wave.  Then she turned the corner and was gone.

       Angel came into the room, quietly closing the door behind him.  He retrieved the chair from its position by the window and placed it next to the bed, close enough that he could touch Buffy easily, then took off his jacket and hung it over the back.  As he seated himself, however, she spoke.  "Hey."  Her eyes opened, regarded him sleepily.

       " . . . hey," he replied, taken aback.  He'd actually been hoping that she'd sleep a bit longer, postponing the moment he was half-dreading, half-longing for.  "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

       Buffy yawned.  "Yeah, but that's all right.  I think I've slept all day; it's time I stayed awake for a while."  She pressed a button on the control switch pinned to her sheet, and the head of the bed began rising.  "Besides, I'd much rather talk to you."  She rearranged her pillow behind her on the now upright mattress and regarded him.  "Thank you for not leaving."

       "You don't have to thank me; I wanted to stay."

       "But you wouldn't have, if I hadn't asked you to."  It wasn't a question.  Angel glanced away.  "I don't know," he admitted.  "How are you doing?"  Changing the subject.

       "Okay, I guess," she said quietly.  "Considering that I came this close to dying and survived only to metaphorically stab my boyfriend in the heart by telling him I didn't really love him.  Considering that I still can't be with the person I do love because it's too dangerous for us to be together."

       Angel cleared his throat.  "Actually, I meant, uh, physically.  Have you had any headaches or - anything?"

       The Buffy he remembered would have looked discomfited, at least, and made some embarrassed remark about pushing the rewind button, but to Angel's surprise she did neither.   Instead she smiled a little and said, "Not ready to face the real stuff, Angel?  Okay.  Let's see, physically I'm doing good.  I took a shower when I woke up this morning - over the doctor's strenuous objections, I might add - and got my hair clean at least, although it won't make the cover of Cosmo.  I haven't decided what to do about this partial Sinead, though."

       "Sinead?"  Angel was lost.  Buffy elaborated.  "Sinead O'Connor?  Irish singer who went the almost-bald route a few years ago?"

       "Oh, yes."  Angel had vague memories of seeing pictures of a beautiful young woman with hair clipped as close to the skull as it could be without being actually shaved.  Then he did a double-take.  "You're thinking of cutting your hair?"

       Both shoulders went up in a shrug.  "I don't think I have a choice.  It's going to look pretty weird if I don't.  Unless of course I decide to go for the Cyndi Lauper look."  As he started to ask, she waved her hand dismissively.  "A pop singer.  Never mind the details; I was only kidding anyway.  As I said, I'm feeling pretty good, physically.  In fact, I intend to leave the hospital tomorrow."

       Angel smiled.  "What did the doctor say about that?"

       Her mischievous grin flashed out.  "About what you'd expect.  ‘Miss Summers, you really should stay until we can run more tests.' "  She shrugged.  "No way.  I want to get out of here.  There's nothing wrong with me that another night's rest and a few decent meals and a little exercise won't fix.  Physically, that is.  Emotionally - well, that's another matter."

       That was his cue if ever he'd heard one.  Angel took a deep breath and just blurted it out.  "Buffy . . . Willow and Giles came to me today with some news.  Tara discovered that the curse that Willow performed on me - you know, when I was trying to wake Acathla - " Her eyes clouding with remembered pain, Buffy nodded.  Angel hurried on.  "Well, it seems that it, um, didn't contain the happiness clause that endangers my soul."

       Uncomprehending silence.  Buffy's brow creased.  "But, how?  I mean, it had to.  It's the curse that Ms. Calendar found, the one her clan cursed you with way back -"

       "No," Angel interrupted.  "It's different."

       "What?  How could it be different?  There's more than one re-souling curse?"

       Angel spoke carefully.  "It appears that the Kalderash took an ancient, traditional Romany curse and . . . changed it, to meet their own requirements for vengeance.  They took out the time limit that was set into the traditional one, and added the moment of true happiness part."

       There was a long silence while Buffy stared at him.  Finally, she cleared her throat.  "So . . . the one Ms. Calendar found was the traditional curse, not the changed one?"  Buffy also spoke carefully, needing to be sure she understood.  Angel nodded.  "And that's the same one that Willow used to re-soul you three years ago?"

       "Yes."

       "So . . . your soul is safe.  It's been safe the whole time."  Angel just looked at her without speaking.  What was there to say, after all?  It was the truth, bitter as the knowledge was.

       "So all of this could have been avoided?"  Distraught, Buffy jumped up and began pacing around the room.  Angel was distracted by the motion of her breasts, loose beneath the hospital gown.  Reflexively, out of long habit, he started to push the thought away, then stopped in stunned realization.  

       His soul was safe.  There was no reason now for him to avoid noticing how the outline of her nipples occasionally showed through the cotton fabric, or how incredibly beautiful she was, even with a portion of her hair clipped to a stubbly patch.  He could make love to her right now, this minute, without consequences - at least not of the soul-losing kind.

       "Riley.  Parker," she continued.

       Angel blinked, coming back to the moment.  Parker?  Who was Parker?  Buffy swung around to face him, and again he noticed the enticing sway of her breasts.  "None of it ever needed to happen.  You didn't need to leave Sunnydale in the first place."

       "Wait."  Focused again, Angel held up a hand.  "Buffy, I didn't leave Sunnydale because of the risk to my soul.  I left because I thought you could find a more normal life without me, and just maybe that would increase your chances of living past twenty-five."

       "Huh?"  Momentarily diverted from her lament, Buffy waited for enlightenment, so Angel explained his theory of Slayer Early Death Syndrome as he'd told it to Giles and Joyce the night before.  "I hoped that a normal relationship would give you a better support group, with added security and . . . stability," he finished.

       "And it never occurred to you that the biggest part of that support group was you?  Your backup, your encouragement . . . your love?"  Her gaze was unblinking and slightly incredulous.

       "No," Angel replied, simply.  "Buffy, ever since I've known you, you've fought tooth and nail to have a normal life despite being the Slayer.  You tried out for cheerleader when Giles forbade you to; you insisted on your right to have dates, go to parties . . . do I need to go on?"

       "I also told you that you were the only thing in my freaky world that made sense.  Obviously you didn't believe me," she said sadly.  Angel was silent.  It was true; he hadn't believed her - or not completely.

       Buffy sat on the edge of the bed.  "In fact," she continued, studying him with a frown, "you've never really believed that I truly love you.  Have you?  You really thought it was just . . . what?  A schoolgirl crush?  A - an adolescent fascination with the forbidden?  The Slayer dating a vampire - the ultimate taboo."

       "No!" he was moved to protest.  "I - "  Angel groped for words.  "Buffy, I knew that you loved me.  God, how could I not know it?  When even after everything that happened when I lost my soul, you took me back and forgave me?"

       "Because it wasn't you who did those things," Buffy said, with a touch of anger.  "Why can't you accept that?"

       "It was my body.  My voice said all those terrible things to you."  Angel held out his hands, palms up.  "These are the hands that snapped Jenny Calendar's neck and arranged her body for Giles to find."  

       He stopped her angry retort.  "I know that it was the demon who was in control, not me, but at the time you were the only one who was able to make that distinction - because you loved me.  God, yes, I knew."

       Subsiding, Buffy listened as he went on.  "But things change, Buffy.  People change - and even the strongest love can fade.  It happens all the time; you know it does.  I believed that if I left, your yearning for a normal life would eventually grow strong enough to overcome . . . the other feelings."

       "You thought that I'd stop loving you?"  

       Angel ignored the pang that smote him at the thought.  Evenly he said, "I thought that as time passed and you got used to my not being here, it would no longer be as important to you, and, yes, that you'd find someone else to love."

       "You were wrong," she stated quietly.

       "I know that now," he replied.  "I'm sorry."  Then, before the silence grew more awkward, he took another breath and got to his feet.  "Buffy, there's something else - another reason why I left.  A selfish reason, one I didn't even fully realize until today when I was thinking about . . . everything."

       Surprised, Buffy's eyebrows rose a little, but she waited to hear more.

       Turning and walking a few steps away, Angel plowed on.  "I wanted to give you a chance for a longer life, but . . . I also needed something.  I needed a chance at redemption."

       Silence.  Then, "You wanted to atone for everything he did.  Angelus."  A frown of hurt puzzlement creased Buffy's forehead.  "Okay, I guess I can understand that.  Like you said, it was your body that was used and unfortunately you share the memories of what the demon used it for.  But isn't that what you were doing by fighting here, with me?  Weren't you already making amends?"

       Angel stood still.  "It wasn't enough."  He turned to face her.  "Buffy, Sunnydale already had you to fight the Hellmouth.  And you didn't really need my help."

       "What?"  Buffy was stung. "How can you say that?  Angel, how many times did you protect me, when we were fighting and some big ugly was about to sink his teeth or a knife into me?  You killed almost as many demons as I did."

       "And afer I left, you killed just as many without me," Angel interrupted.  Buffy stared at him, shaken.  "Didn't you," he persisted, gently.  It wasn't a question.

       "Do you have any idea how lost I felt without you?"  She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.  "The first week of school I discovered a nest of vampires on campus," she whispered.  "I fought the leader, a girl named Sunday.  She whipped my ass, single-handed.  I ran, Angel, as fast as I could with bruised ribs and an arm that I thought might be broken; and the whole time I was running I was praying that she wasn't coming after me and wishing you were there to back me up."

       Angel was more perturbed than he let on.  The image of Buffy turning tail and running away from a single vampire was one he could hardly picture.  "What happened?  Or is the vamp - Sunday? - still running her campus nest?"

       Buffy hesitated, looking away.  "Well . . . no," she finally said.  "I, uh, went back a couple of nights later and . . . took care of it."  The last words were mumbled.

       Now Angel raised his eyebrows.  "You staked them?  The entire nest?"

       When Buffy gave a reluctant nod, he raised them higher.  "Alone?"  She flashed him an uneasy look and nodded again, even more reluctantly.  Angel continued, quietly relentless.  "Without my help.  Without anyone's help."  

       Silence.  He waited.  

       Buffy sighed.  "All right; point taken.  But just because I was able to take them on later doesn't mean that I couldn't have used your help the first time.  Who knows how many people they killed in between?"

       Angel sat next to her.  "Buffy, I know you appreciated and maybe even relied on my help.  But you didn't really need it, not then or now.  You're the Slayer, and a damn good one.  All I was accomplishing here was a higher body count of demons.  I needed to go someplace where I could actually help people."

       "Someplace that didn't already have a Slayer," Buffy murmured.  Her expression closed in.  "I understand.  Sunnydale can't offer the scope for redemption that L.A. does, it's true."  

       She got up again and went over to the window, where she stared out into the night, her back to him, forehead resting against the glass.  "So what I'm hearing you not say is that even though you don't have to worry about losing your soul now, we're still not going to be together."