Live for Love

 

            Buffy snuggled deeper under the covers, insinuating herself even closer (if that were possible) to her lover. She couldn’t get over how warm he felt to the touch, or how his skin broke out in goose pimples in a cool draft, or how he would turn to her with a childlike expression of delight every time he sampled a new taste. But most of all, she marvelled at the sound of his heart beating. It was a low thump that sounded first dully in his chest then reverberated through his whole body. She could listen to it forever – in fact since the ritual she’d literally spent hours just resting her head above his chest, listening to the steady rhythm that drummed where there had once only been silence. She knew she had to make the most of this while it lasted, because it wouldn’t be forever.

 

            Angel shifted slightly underneath her, dipping his head downwards to give Buffy an affectionate good morning kiss.

 

            “Hey,” she protested sleepily. “You’re all scratchy!”

 

            He ran a hand experimentally over his chin, still not completely used to the stubble that now adorned it every morning. There were definite benefits to being dead, the fact that it rendered shaving unnecessary being one of them.

 

            “What, don’t you like my designer stubble?” He teased. “I thought it was supposed to be the height of fashion nowadays. Maybe I should consider growing a moustache or a goatee?”

 

            “No!” Buffy protested vehemently. “I like you just as you are. Now go shave so I can kiss you properly.”

 

            Angel sighed heavily, dragging himself out of bed. Shaving was not one of his favourite activities, especially since he didn’t have a proper reflection. It was one of the weird side effects of Tara’s spell to bind him and Buffy together. He didn’t know what the spell meant he was now, the best definition he could come up with was that of a living vampire. His heart beat and his body performed all the usual human…functions, but he still had most of the features of vampirism. His reflection wasn’t complete, instead he just cast a blurry shadow across mirrors, crosses still burnt him and he still needed to drink blood.

 

            He and Buffy had spent the past few days since the ritual Tara performed investigating the exact nature of their new situation. Their biggest experiment had been with Angel and sunlight. His demon’s fear of sunlight had initially meant he was reluctant to even try to go out during the day. But Buffy had been persistent, eventually persuading him into an attempted sortie. This had been a very short trip out, however, as Angel’s skin had soon begun to redden and burn in the strong light. But the reaction was no where near as severe as it had been, and further trials had proved he could go out on cloudy days with little discomfort, so Angel was generally pretty happy about the situation. Buffy had even bought him his first ever pair of sunglasses and he wore them with pride.

 

            For Buffy the immediate effects of the spell had been less obvious. There would be no change in her situation really, until her mortal body died and she would have to rely upon a share in Angel’s life energy to keep her animated also. After that she would essentially be a vampire, except without the demon inside of her. For now all that had happened was that she’d developed a taste for his pig’s blood, proclaiming it much less disgusting than she had formerly thought and supplementing a mug of it for her coffee each morning.

 

            Angel began the first upward sweep of the razor, wincing as it cut into him, despite its safety guard. At least he still had his vampiric healing, anyway, otherwise he would have been in real trouble. His acute hearing caught the sound of pots banging about in the kitchen and he picked up the pace of his actions, mindless of the tiny cuts that sprung up all over his face. They would soon close, but repairing the damage to his kitchen if Buffy were allowed to cook in it would take considerably longer and be a lot more difficult.

 

            He swiftly exited the bathroom and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Seeing Buffy standing at the stove, he crept up behind her and pressed his now smooth cheek to that of his love.

 

            “Better?” He asked in a husky voice.

 

            “Much,” she replied smiling, turning around to kiss him as she had promised to earlier.

 

            He broke off the kiss before it could turn into anything more serious, however, and motioned to the culinary effects she had lined up on the counter.

 

            “You weren’t planning on doing anything with those were you?” He asked with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

 

            “Well…” Buffy replied stretching the word out into more syllables than he had thought possible. “I just thought that it would be nice for me to cook for you for once – you know, now that you actually eat food – rather than it being the other way around. So, this is a nice thing I’m doing, really. You should be thanking me for it instead of getting all anally retentive, chef-ier than thou.”

 

            “Buffy,” he began, trying his best to be tactful. “I love the gesture, I really do. Thank you.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “And I love you.” Another kiss. “But…”

 

            “Get out of your kitchen,” Buffy finished for him.

 

            Angel nodded, smiling slightly. “You are a wonderful, beautiful woman,” he addressed her sincerely. “And God gave you many gifts. Unfortunately, culinary expertise is not one of them.”

 

            Buffy slipped her arms around his waist, leaning her face up towards his so that the tips of their noses touched. “You have serious control issues, you know.” She teased. “I think maybe you should consider going to a counsellor-”

 

            He cut her off with a deep searing kiss. “Go shower and dress and I’ll have breakfast done by the time you get back.”

 

            A long, thin wail interrupted them before Buffy could reply to this suggestion. The couple simultaneously rolled their eyes, breaking out into long-suffering smiles.

 

            “Or I could just go and check on Hope?” Buffy proposed.

 

            She left Angel in the kitchen, starting work on the pancake mix and went to answer the insistent cry of the baby that now seemed to be theirs by default. As she picked up Hope and cradled the little girl in her arms, Buffy felt a pang of guilt and grief. The baby had Faith’s eyes, it was unmistakeable, Buffy could almost see the image of her lost friend staring out of Hope’s gaze. She thought back to this morning and how happy she had been when she woke up, she hadn’t even spared a thought to Faith or to the pain that Gunn must be going through right now.

 

            It seemed unfair to Buffy that she should be so happy in the wake of such tragedy and for a second, holding Hope and thinking of how she would grow up without her mother, Buffy felt terribly guilty. But in her heart she knew that Faith wouldn’t have wanted her to grieve forever. If there was one thing her sister Slayer’s death had taught Buffy it was that nothing in life were certain. You had to grab your chances of happiness when they arose, otherwise you could miss out on them forever. And Buffy knew that Angel’s humanity was only a temporary thing, when the side effects of the spell cast upon herself were fully realised and her own mortal body died, then their lives could be turned upside down. She had to make the most of her happiness whilst she still could, and although saddened that Faith wasn’t here to share the experience, Buffy wasn’t going let such thoughts cast too much of a cloud over her life.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            “Full house.” Faith announced triumphantly, laying down her imaginary cards. One of the new skills she had been learning was how to conjure up objects out of the ether. They weren’t actually real, just some kind of illusion that had the power to fool ghosts. Faith didn’t quite understand the physics of it, she just knew it was a pretty useful skill, especially when it came to changing the clothes she was wearing. She hadn’t particularly been looking forward to spending eternity in a spirit world incarnation of the scruffy old T-shirt and sweatpants she’d died in.

 

            “Y-you win again.” Dennis conceded, mentally creating a small pile of poker chips, which he added to Faith’s already large stash.

 

            “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the most challenging opponent I’ve ever faced.” Faith muttered in return. She wistfully fingered the poker chips, wondering what the point of the whole game was. Dennis was the worse poker player she’d ever encountered and in the past hour she’d won eleven hands against him. And even the winning was beginning to lose its satisfaction now. The chips she had so many of were worthless, not real even despite how solid they felt beneath her fingertips. And Dennis could just produce more of them whenever he needed to, so it didn’t even feel like she was cleaning him out.

 

            Frustrated, she upset the card table, flipping it over onto its side and sending playing cards and plastic disks flying in all directions. But before they could even hit the ground they disappeared, Faith’s discontinued focus on their game causing the illusion to be lost.

 

            “Are you o-okay?” Dennis asked concernedly.

 

            “Apart from the fact I’m dead?” Faith answered sarcastically.

 

            Dennis looked thoroughly taken-aback by her comment, so she retracted it, muttering ‘I’m fine’ under her breath.

 

            “I-It’s difficult at first,” he offered. “Getting used to being a ghost, I mean.”

 

            “I just wish it wasn’t so mind-numbingly boring.” Faith said, pacing distractedly around the room. “I need some action. Aren’t there any vampire ghosts I can slay?”

 

            “I, uh, I don’t think so…”

 

            “Then I’ll just have to get down to some old fashioned fun.” She suggested, an idea beginning to form in her mind. Faith turned back to him, a wicked glint in her eye. “Tell me Dennis, what is it that ghosts do best?”

 

            He just looked at her blankly.

 

            Faith sighed, this guy had a lot to learn. “You ever read any books, see any movies? Hear any ghost stories?”

 

            “A-A f-few, maybe.” He stuttered uncertainly in reply.

 

            “And what do the ghosts always do in these tales?” She asked impatiently.

 

            “Uh, um, haunt things?”

 

            “Give the boy a prize – he finally got it.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Wesley collapsed exhausted into an armchair, vaguely suspecting his feet were covered in blisters, but not daring to check. He hadn’t felt this tired out in months; the whole afternoon had been a nightmare from start to finish and he couldn’t imagine a more stressful pastime. Even nearly dying at the hand of that Kedrite demon last week had been more relaxing. Why shopping was so popular with so many people, he had no idea.

 

            He examined his purchases unsatisfactorily. Who knew buying a birthday gift for Cordelia was going to be this difficult? He’d never had a problem before, in fact in previous years he’d either forgotten completely, or Cordy had dropped so many not-very-subtle hints that it was painfully obvious what he was supposed to get her. But this year everything was different. The night they mistakenly spent together wasn’t supposed have any lasting impression upon their relationship – they had both agreed not to let it spoil their friendship – but things between them were strained nonetheless.

 

            Wesley didn’t understand what the big problem was. After all they were both adults, they’d made a choice to sleep together (albeit a drunken one) and now they should be able to live with that choice. Sex was sex, just something physical and not indicative of anything deeper. They had both had plenty of sex before with plenty of people (well, not too many people, Wesley corrected mentally) so it shouldn’t mean anything special this time. Though if that was the case then why was he getting so wound up over something as insignificant as a birthday present?

 

            He didn’t know the answer to this question, he just knew that it was important that the gift he bought gave out the right signals to Cordelia. He didn’t want to get her something too extravagant or expensive that might make her think that is was now interested in more than her friendship. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to get her too insignificant a gift, as he needed it to somehow mend the rift in their relationship that this mistake had left. So, he would have to strike the right balance. Something bought with consideration that Cordelia would like, but nothing hugely expensive and definitely nothing vaguely romantic.

 

            In the end, unable to decide on the right purchase, Wesley had come home with a variety of items. They ranged from a bottle of Cordy’s favourite perfume (too intimate), to a designer silk scarf (too costly), to a book on demonology (too stuffy and intellectual – though he might keep it for himself, actually), to a gift voucher (too impersonal). He’d thought that he might be able to concentrate better on his choice, away from the crowds of the mall, but the peace and quiet of his apartment wasn’t helping him any. If anything it was making things worse – he now had plenty of opportunity to agonise over Cordelia’s range of reactions to each gift possibility. He pictured her face light up as she opened the packages and imagined what her undoubtedly candid comments would be.

 

            She’s married, you fool, he told himself, as his mind settled on a vision of Cordy’s smile as she opened the box containing the silk scarf. Happily married, he forced himself to think, as Cordelia smiling turned into Cordelia kissing him gratefully on the cheek. And she’s not interested in you. He concentrated on this thought as he carefully wrapped the parcel containing the designer accessory, not even pausing to consider how the burnt gold fabric would pick out the blonde highlights in Cordy’s hair, or how beautifully it would contrast with her tanned skin. And he didn’t even contemplate that it was possibly more than friendship he meant when he wrote ‘love from Wesley’ on the gift tag.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy felt like a fool. She couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face. No matter how hard she tried it just wouldn’t go – not that it was that bad a price to pay for feeling this happy, though. She remembered the childhood stories her mother had used to tell her, that if the wind changed when she was pulling a ridiculous expression then her face would stick like that, and she almost hoped that the wind would change now. She wanted to be permanently left with the grin, so that whenever she looked in the mirror, she would be reminded of this moment and how perfect it was.

 

            She was walking in the park in the late afternoon sunshine, enjoying the warmth of the late spring weather. With one hand she pushed Hope’s stroller along the path in front of her, the baby inside it sleeping peacefully, and the other hand held tightly on to Angel’s as he walked beside her, matching his step to her own languid pace. The whole experience was incredible and definitely something she never would have imagined possible. Sometimes life surprised you in good ways as well as bad.

 

            They stopped to sit on a park bench and admire the scene before them: a lake with willow trees delicately dangling their branches over its edge, the water stained deep orange with reflections of the slowly setting sun. To one side stood an expanse of open lawn, scattered with picnickers – lovers snuggling together on woollen blankets and children playfully kicking about a football.  Buffy turned to study Angel, the look of wonder on his face blatantly obvious. She couldn’t help but smile at the dark sunglasses he wore to protect his eyes and at the two red spots that appeared on his cheeks where they’d caught the sun.

 

            She leaned up to kiss him softly, catching the scent of his coconut oil sunscreen as she did so. Angel smiled back at her, studying intently the way her golden hair shined in the dying light.

 

            “Have I told you how beautiful you look in the sunshine?” He whispered.

 

            “Only a couple of hundred times.” Buffy replied with a slight giggle. “Ditto, by the way.”

 

            “Really? You think I look good?” Angel teased gently.

 

            “Oh yeah,” she returned in a breathy voice. “I’d sleep with you any day.” She caught his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, which he returned with equal intensity. They were interrupted, however, by an escaped football bouncing up to hit Angel in the side. Wryly amused, he scooped up the ball only to be met with the sight of young boy of about seven come hurtling towards him in search of his lost toy. The boy stopped in front of them, took a minute to catch his breath and brush his floppy blonde hair out of his eyes, then spoke in an impatient voice.

 

            “Can I have my ball back, Mister?”

 

            “Sure,” Angel handed the ball over with great ceremony. “Just be more careful where you kick it next time, though.”

 

            “Honey,” a breathless voice called from further up the path. “How many times have I told you to watch what you’re doing with that ball?” The boy’s harassed mother flashed a wary glance at Buffy and Angel, then upon deciding that they weren’t going to present any threat to her child, offered her apologies. “I’m sorry about this – kids, you know.”

 

            “Yeah, we understand.” Buffy replied with a slight smile, squeezing Angel’s knee as she did so.

 

            The woman seemed to notice Hope for the first time and peered inside the stroller. “Oh, what a beautiful baby!” She exclaimed. “Is she yours?”

 

            “Uh, no.” Angel clarified. “We’re just taking care of her for a friend.”

 

            “Well, you make a cute family, anyway.” The woman offered before leading her son back to their group.

 

            “Do you hear that?” Buffy asked after the woman had gone. “She said we made a cute family.”

 

            “I guess we do.” Angel, answered noncommittally, somehow he thought he knew where Buffy was going with this.

 

            Buffy leant against Angel’s shoulder and bit her lip nervously. “Do you think, you might want to maybe consider, uh, possibly making this family a little bigger? I mean, we don’t have to, it was just a suggestion, forget I ever said anything…” she finished hurriedly.

 

            “Forget you said what exactly?” Angel asked, knowing exactly what she meant, but wanting to make her spell it out to him.

 

            “Nothing.” Buffy turned away from him, blushing slightly and bending over to check on Hope.

 

            Angel leant over her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips just millimetres away from her ear. “We should talk about this,” he murmured.

 

            Buffy turned her body back towards his, but refused to meet his gaze, instead studying her hands. “Well…” she began. “I know we never really discussed this before, because it wasn’t an issue, but now…”

 

            “Now I’m alive and it is.” Angel finished for her.

 

            “Yeah,” Buffy risked a look at his face, which to her frustration wore its usual impassive expression. “And we don’t have much time, you know.”

 

            “I know.” He replied, covering her hands with his. “Buffy, do you want a baby?” He asked outright, finally voicing the issue he knew had been on the edge of her thoughts for the past couple of days.

 

            “I want your baby.” She answered, immediately colouring bright red and hiding behind her hand, embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just said that,” she added. “I mean, how pathetic must I sound? I think I just reversed fifty years of feminist action.”

 

            “Buffy,” Angel smiled. “I don’t think you sound pathetic at all. I think you’re beautiful and strong and independent. And I love that you just said that.”

 

            “You do?” She asked hopefully. “Because you’ve never told me how you feel about children and I guess I figured you’d hate the idea of being a father.”

 

            “I don’t hate the idea. It just scares the Hell out of me.”

 

            Buffy laughed and returned to her position leaning against his shoulder. “It scares me too,” she said in a serious voice. “The idea of being responsible for bringing a new life into the world is the most petrifying thing I’ve ever considered doing, but it’s also the most wonderful. Do you get what I mean?”

 

            “Yeah,” Angel tightened his arms around her. “I do.”

 

            “And I think we’re doing a pretty good job so far, with Hope…”

 

            “We are.”

 

            “So, do you want to try for a baby then?” She asked tentatively.

 

            “Well, I didn’t think we were doing much to be not trying for a baby.” He answered with some amusement.

 

            Buffy twisted around to face him, wearing a seductive smile. “Well, we’ll just have to be a little more active in our endeavours from now on.”

 

Angel lowered his lips to hers so that they contacted in a long, slow kiss. “I’ve not got a problem with that.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            “Are you really quite sure this is a good idea?” Wesley asked Angel sceptically.

 

After his discussion with Buffy in the park, the vampire had privately consulted the former Watcher about his feelings on the subject. Angel was concerned that his rather unique circumstances may have an effect on his and Buffy’s ability to conceive a child. The reality was that they weren’t just any other normal couple trying to get pregnant; they were a living vampire and the eldest ever surviving Slayer, meaning that this was not just a matter of simple biology.

 

Wesley, however, had been able to come up with any concrete objections as to why it shouldn’t be physically possible for Angel and Buffy to have children together. The birth of Faith’s daughter had been relatively normal, excluding its medical complications, and all indications showed that Hope was a very ordinary, perfectly healthy baby. So, with the problem of adverse effects of the Slayer calling spell solved in Buffy there was no reason why she should not be able to bring a pregnancy to term. As for Angel, so far they had determined that all his bodily functions were working the same as a normal human’s would, so it could be assumed the same would be true for his reproductive system. Angel would, no doubt, pass on the human DNA carried in his sperm, making his child no different from any other man’s. On this Wesley was convinced. What he was a little more concerned about, however, was what would happen after the baby was born.

 

“This is definitely what you want?” He inquired for about the sixth time.

 

“It’s what Buffy wants.” Angel answered automatically.

 

“You know you can’t just do this for Buffy’s sake. A reluctant parent is inevitably harmful to the child, and you know as well as I do the detrimental effects a bad father can have.”

 

Angel caught Wesley’s pointed gaze, the unspoken knowledge of each other’s disastrous paternal relationships passing briefly between them. “I want this too,” he said simply, deliberately avoiding any deeper analysis of the situation.

 

Wesley was not going to let him off that easily, though. “Yes, but are you certain you’ll be able to cope with it? Father-son interactions follow a distinct pattern that is often passed on down the generations. These things are cyclical. Even neglecting your history as a vampire you are likely to mimic the behaviours shown to you by your father – a classic case of the abused turning into the abuser-”

 

“Listen,” Angel cut him off in a gentle voice, mindful of the painful emotions this discussion must be stirring up for Wesley. “I know this is a difficult subject for you Wesley, but my family circumstances were rather different to yours. I wasn’t abused, I was a rash and foolish young man who wouldn’t listen to reason and showed no propriety of behaviour in a time when such a thing was vitally important. I inflicted as much damage on my father as he did on me. And I’m not the same character now as I was then – that at least should be obvious.”

 

“Yes, indeed.” Wesley managed quietly after a long pause. Still reluctant to give up his argument, however, he continued to lecture. “Bringing a child into this world is a huge responsibility, you know.”

 

“Wesley,” Angel replied with slight annoyance. “You don’t need to give me the sex ed. line. Buffy and I aren’t teenagers. We understand about the responsibility – we’re caring for one child already if you remember.”

 

 “Yes, but that’s different.” The Brit argued.

 

“How exactly?”

 

“Your custody of Hope is only a temporary arrangement. You’re merely looking after her until Gunn returns.”

 

A dark cloud crossed Angel’s face. “If he ever returns.”

 

“You don’t think he’ll come back?”

 

The vampire sighed. “I honestly don’t know. I can’t even begin to imagine how Faith’s death must have affected him, or how he’s feeling at the moment. Gunn was never the most…predictable of characters. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if we never saw him again.”

 

Wesley stared aghast at Angel’s suggestion. “But the man wouldn’t just abandon his child like that, would he?”

 

“It’s been done plenty of times before.”

 

“Yes, but I wouldn’t have thought Gunn would be the type of person to do such a thing.”

 

“There isn’t a type.” Angel answered bluntly. “But, no, I wouldn’t have expected this from Gunn either. However, it’s been nearly a month now and the more time that passes without hearing from him, then the less likely it is that he’ll return.”

 

Wesley nodded sadly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Faith’s laughter echoed loudly through the abandoned building. “Damn!” She exclaimed loudly. “That was the most fun I’ve had in ages!”

 

            “Y-you don’t think t-that we upset those kids too much?” Dennis asked concernedly. “T-they did seem rather scared.”

 

            “Nah,” Faith waved her hand dismissively. “They’ll just have to find somewhere else to get their rocks off.”

 

            When she had discovered that the former chapel was now a favourite make-out spot with the local teenagers, she had decided that it was the perfect place to test out her skills at haunting. Opting for the traditional approach she had set doors slamming and sent objects flying across the room in typical poltergeist style, rounding off the show by making some spooky noises.

 

            “Did you see that boy’s face when I called out his name?” Faith asked enthusiastically. “He nearly peed his pants! Todd, oh Todd, I’m watching you…” She dropped her voice an octave, making it low and sultry, imitating the whisper she had affected earlier, before adding: “And I didn’t even know guys could scream that high.”

 

            “Y-you had a good time then?”

 

            Faith considered this for a moment, then turned back to Dennis, suddenly strangely shy. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Maybe being a ghost isn’t so bad after all.”

 

            “It has its moments.” He replied thoughtfully.

 

            “So, we’ve discovered what I like to do to get my kicks.” Faith said, casually perching on one of the church’s old pews. “What about you?”

 

            “M-me?” Dennis asked, nervous again now that the focus of the conversation had returned to him.

 

            “Yeah, y-you.” Faith imitated, unable to resist the cruel dig. Then feeling a pang of guilt at mocking the man who had only offered her kindness and help from the outset, she softened her tone. “You’ve been a ghost for a long time, right? So, you must have found something to do to fill the time.”

 

            “W-well, I sort of have a social club-”

 

            “A social club?” She interrupted. “You mean like lonely hearts for dead people?”

 

            Dennis winced. “N-not exactly.”

 

            “Well, whatever it is I’m in.” Faith made a snap decision, feeling boredom begin to encroach once more. “When’s your next meeting?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy stared incredulously at the illustration on the page before her. She turned the book on to its side and squinted again at the picture, finally giving up making any sense of it at all and dropping the volume she was studying on to the desk where it joined the large pile of other materials already gathered there. Once she and Angel had talked about all the pros and cons and finally decided that yes they would try and have a baby, she had gone out and bought all the self-help books on the subject she could find. Not that she thought she and Angel needed any help in that area, it was just that too many years of lectures from Giles and Wesley had taught her always to research a subject thoroughly first, instead of just plunging in blindly, so to speak. Though, she thought with a slight giggle, that was usually Angel’s area of expertise.

 

            Now that she had the books, however, she was glad of them. She’d had no idea that something as supposedly simple as conceiving a child could actually be so complex. Apparently there were only a very few days in a woman’s hormonal cycle when she could actually become pregnant. This narrow time gap was extended slightly by the fact that a man’s sperm could remain alive within the female body for anything up to 72 hours after intercourse. Thus, it could be as long as three days after sex before conception actually occurred. She could be just walking down the street and suddenly become pregnant.

 

Buffy’s head spun at all the facts and figures she had read and she couldn’t even begin to remember all the pieces of advice the books had thrown her way. Some provided handy charts she was supposed to fill in, so she could track when she was at her most fertile. Others recommended taking her temperature daily in order to discover the precise moment that she was ovulating. There were certain foods she and Angel should eat and certain times of day it was best to make love at. And the book she had just abandoned even recommended particular positions that should be adopted if the prospective parents wanted to increase the likelihood of having a child of a certain gender. This didn’t particularly concern Buffy, as she hadn’t decided whether she’d prefer a boy or a girl yet, but she was left wondering about the logistics of some of the suggestions.

 

Angel walked into the office and she tapped the open page of the book with a neat, French manicured fingernail, drawing his attention to the illustration. “I didn’t even know that was possible.” She remarked.

 

Angel gave the picture of the copulating couple a cursory glance. “Oh, it is.” He reassured his wife with a knowing smile. “Believe me.”

 

She punched him good-naturedly in the arm. “I don’t think I want to hear any more than that, thank you very much.” She said decisively, snapping the book shut.

 

“What’s all this extra reading material in aid of, anyway?” Angel asked, curiously thumbing through one of Buffy’s purchases.

 

“Well, I thought it was best to know what to expect,” she answered. “I sort of wanted to make sure all the bases were covered. You know, be prepared and all that.”

 

“Buffy,” Angel teased. “Do you really think this is the best situation to go all Girl Scout on me in?”

 

She rolled her eyes at his comment, but continued with her argument anyway. “You wouldn’t believe how complicated it all is. Did you know that there are four major hormones involved in a woman’s menstrual cycle, the levels of all of which have to be exactly balanced for her to be able to conceive? And things like diet and exercise and stress can all affect the production of these hormones. But it’s not just about the woman either,” Buffy continued. “The man’s sperm has to be at its optimum as well. It says here…” she searched for a particular page and began to read from it, “that tight pants or restrictive underwear can drastically reduce sperm counts as well as the, uh, the motility of what active gametes do remain.”

 

“Guess I’ll have to return that thong I bought then.” Angel deadpanned.

 

“And,” Buffy ignored his comment, still on a roll with her recitation of newly learned facts. “It’s not unusual for a couple to be actively trying to conceive for up to eighteen months before a successful pregnancy results. So, we could have a long haul in front of us. There’s a section in one of these books about medically assisted fertilisation-”

 

“Buffy!” Angel interrupted loudly in an attempt to put an end to her litany. “It’s nice that you’re so keen to, ah, inform yourself about all this stuff. But don’t you think we should at least try things the old fashioned way before worrying about fertility treatments.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gazed deep into her eyes to reinforce his point.

 

Buffy smiled at him warmly. “You’re right, you’re right,” she acceded. “I’m getting totally carried away here aren’t I?”

 

“Just a little bit.” Angel returned her smile. He lowered his voice to a huskier, more seductive register. “Besides, I had some theories of my own I was hoping we could explore.”

 

“Oh, yes?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” he confirmed, kissing her softly on the lips. “Mathematical theories.”

 

“Mathematical?” Buffy raised an eyebrow, sounding a little surprised.

 

“Yes, I was thinking of testing the laws of probability.”

 

“Ah,” she replied knowingly, as she began to follow his meaning. “The greater the number of trials then the higher the chance of a successful outcome, right?”

 

“Right.” Angel said, treating her to a deeper kiss.

 

“I think I like that theory,” she whispered between kisses. “Maybe we should get on to testing it straight away…”

 

She pulled him close to her, running her hands over his chest and back, then moving them gradually downwards when a knock on the door interrupted them.

 

 “Not now Cordelia!” Buffy called out whilst Angel was busy fumbling with her shirt buttons and ravishing her neck with his lips.

 

“It’s not Cordelia,” came a familiar voice, followed by the sound of the door opening. Buffy and Angel jerked apart in shock, Buffy quickly drawing her hands down to her chest to cover up again, before staring up into the hard gaze of Charles Gunn.

 

Angel was first to gather himself. “Where’ve you been all this time?”

 

Gunn shrugged. “Went to Boston, checked out a few people Faith knew. Then I took my time coming back – travelled around a bit until my cash ran out.”

 

Angel nodded, managing to maintain a neutral expression. “Well, its good to have you back, anyway.” He shook Gunn’s hand firmly.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed quietly, mindful of the awkward atmosphere that had always existed between her and the freelance demon hunter.

 

“So, how’ve you been going?” Angel asked.

 

Gunn surveyed the interior of the office, paying particular attention to the large picture window whose blinds were wide open, allowing the midday sunshine to stream into the room. “Obviously not as well as you.” He remarked, his expression closed off.

 

Angel flashed a small ironic half-smile. “Yeah, quite a few things have happened since you’ve been away.”

 

“You human now?” Gunn cut straight to the chase as per usual.

 

“Not exactly. I’m more of a living vampire. Buffy and I were forced into performing a ritual. But we can talk about this later,” Angel tried to pacify Gunn, sensing a rising level of tension in the room. “Why don’t we go and see Hope, you’d be surprised over how much she’s grown-”

 

“She’s so beautiful now.” Buffy interjected; glad to be on a topic she felt she could contribute to. “She’s just the spitting image of Faith…”

 

Gunn’s eyes whipped up to meet Buffy’s, his dark irises revealing intense pain, before the shutters over his emotions fell again and he glared daggers at the blonde Slayer.

 

“I-I’m sorry.” Buffy stuttered, cursing her tactlessness. She had moved on from Faith’s death, now able to remember the former Slayer with a bittersweet sadness, Gunn clearly had not. He hadn’t passed the stage of raw and agonising grief, which mentions of Faith could only exacerbate.

 

Gunn ignored her apology, however, instead turning to Angel and handing him a leather-bound volume. “The diary of Faith’s first Watcher,” he clarified. “I picked up in Boston – it makes for an interesting read.”

 

Angel nodded and deposited the journal on his desk. Gunn’s eyes followed the vampire’s movements and in the process caught sight of some of the other literature that still occupied the desk’s surface. Gunn slowly paced over towards the desk, his entire body a tense knot of restrained emotion. Affecting a casual attitude he picked up one of Buffy’s books and began to flick through it. Not paying much attention to its pages, however, he seemed more concerned with Buffy, taking in her flushed cheeks and still rather dishevelled appearance legacies from her aborted encounter with Angel. Settling a contemptuous gaze on the Slayer, he thoughtfully repeated the title of the book he held in his hands, his every mannerism radiating barely concealed hostility.

 

“Major Concepts of Conception: A Prospective Parent’s Guide. Wow, I really have missed a few things haven’t I? Life goes on though, hey? I think I’ll just get outta here – let you get back to playing happy families.”

 

With that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Angel dashed out after Gunn, sensing that his friend was not in a suitable state to be left alone right now. Exiting the office into the street, the vampire winced as the strong sunlight hit him. His eyes were stinging and he could feel his skin begin to burn, but he pushed these sensations to the back of his mind, concentrating instead on chasing after Gunn. Using his supernatural speed, Angel soon caught the other man up and grasped him by the arm.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“No! I’m not all right.” Gunn returned in a low, dangerous tone, shaking Angel’s hand off his arm. “And I’m not gonna be all right,” he began to raise his voice, getting progressively louder with each successive utterance. “Faith’s dead and nobody else seems to give a SHIT!”

 

Angel sighed and tried to speak soothingly. “We do give-” he balked at the use of the profanity, instead taking a moment to rephrase. “We do care. We all miss Faith very much.”

 

Gunn laughed bitterly. “But it didn’t take you long to get over her death, though, did it? You’re all sunshine and fucking babies! As long as you’ve got your little Buffy to screw then you’re fine. You couldn’t give a damn about anybody else.”

 

“Now, listen-” Angel began forcefully, his own anger beginning to flare. He was willing to excuse Gunn’s outburst considering the current circumstances, but he did not think it acceptable that Buffy be brought into the matter.

 

“Forget it man, I’m not listening to another word you say.” Gunn interrupted him. “You just don’t get it! You want to snuggle up with your honey, have 2.4 children? What’s next? A white picket fence and a house in suburbia? You’re a fucking VAMPIRE, for Christ’s sake! You’re an evil demon, you shouldn’t get to have things like that. It’s twisted that’s what it is.”

 

Angel opened his mouth to reply, suddenly conscious of the small crowd of shocked onlookers that had gathered around them. What the spectators must think of the content of Gunn’s speech, Angel couldn’t imagine.

 

“Just stay the Hell away from me, I don’t need you.” Gunn interrupted before Angel could think of anything appropriate to say. The grieving young man stalked off down the street and this time Angel did not follow, certain that no good could come from yet another confrontation. Instead he turned around to head back inside, finding himself face to face with an open-mouthed Buffy who had witnessed the entire exchange.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            “Wow, that sounds pretty intense.” Cordelia remarked into the phone, carefully applying nail polish to her toes as she did so. “Poor Gunn.”

 

            “Well, I for one have very little sympathy for the man,” Wesley returned. “His behaviour was totally uncalled for, not to mention down right rude.”

 

            “Give the guy a break,” Cordy argued. “His girlfriend just died – don’t you think he has a right to be a little upset?”

 

            “Faith died a month ago, following which Gunn disappeared without a word and abandoning his child. Buffy and Angel were kind enough to step in and care for Hope, now how does he repay them? By publicly berating their life style choices. I really think that Gunn has surpassed the bounds of what can be considered excusable.”

 

            Cordelia wrinkled up her nose in thought. “But Buffy and Angel having a baby – that had to come as a pretty big shock. I mean, how many vampires do you know that are married with children?”

 

            “That being as it may,” Wesley countered diplomatically. “This is still Buffy and Angel’s decision and whatever our personal feelings on the matter we should keep them to ourselves.”

 

            “Aha!” She exclaimed, latching on to the possibility of hearing some illicit gossip. “You hate the thought of it, don’t you? I knew it!”

 

            “I don’t hate the idea, Cordelia.” He replied with a long sigh. “I just think that it is possibly not the most sensible course of action Angel has ever pursued. It would seem to me that they are rather rushing into things.”

 

            “Do you think the baby will have fangs?”

 

            “What? No, I do not think that. I’ve never heard a more ridiculous notion in all my life…” Wesley’s voice was distracted, and after a long pause he spoke again in a whisper. “Angel’s coming back down stairs, I should go now.”

 

            “Sure,” Cordy agreed, and was just about to hang up the phone when she remembered what the point of the call had been in the first place. “Wait! I was gonna ask them myself, but seeing as how things are so tense there can you pass on a message to Mr and Mrs Vamp?”

 

            “If I must.” Wesley answered reluctantly, sick of his role as Cordelia’s messaging service.

 

            “Tell them that they’re invited to my birthday party on Saturday night. Oh, and that it’s BYOB – bring your own blood.” Cordelia took a quick breath before adding in what she hoped was a casual tone. “Oh, and you’ll be coming as well, of course, since I’m sure you have no other plans for the evening. Anyway, I’d better let you get your nose back to the grindstone – bye!”

 

            She dropped the receiver back into its cradle, mentally analysing her conversation with Wesley. He’d seemed okay, but it was hard to tell nowadays. Ever since they’d slept together things had been awkward between them and Cordelia was hating it. She hadn’t realised until now what a big part of her life her friendship with Wesley was and how much she enjoyed their good-natured banter. She missed the easy way they teased one another and the insults they would routinely trade. It had always been a competition to see who could come up with the wittiest comeback – which she consistently won, she remembered with a smile.

 

            Now, things were different, however. Now their banter no longer came easily, the words were always edged with tension and uncertainty. Cordy feared offending Wesley with her remarks, whereas before she had known that she could say anything to him without harming their relationship. Now every word she uttered to him seemed to be loaded with hidden meanings. She didn’t want to make overtly mean comments in case he thought she no longer considered him a friend. And yet she didn’t want to appear too nice in case he read too much into it and thought she might want to be more than just friends. Basically she just wanted things to get back to normal, because she missed Wesley. Life wasn’t exactly at its easiest at the moment and she needed her best friend to help her through it all.

 

            Her husband John walked into the room, looking stressed out, as was the norm these days. He was having trouble with the film company that employed him – they kept wanting to make changes to his writing and cheapen the plots or something or other, Cordelia didn’t pay much attention to details. But John was plotting a walk out, this she knew; he wanted to take his ideas and start up a new company of his own. And at the moment the only results of these plans were long talks with the bank manager and John’s perpetual bad mood.

 

            “Who was that on the phone?” He asked distractedly, reaching inside the liquor cabinet for his half-empty bottle of scotch.

 

            Cordelia twisted the cap back on her bottle of nail polish and stood up to leave. “Nobody important,” she said lightly. “Just nobody.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

           

Buffy spat out the last mouthful of toothpaste and checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A quick adjustment to the straps of her lace nightgown and she was satisfied with her appearance. She was dressing to please Angel tonight. Things had been a little strained between them ever since Gunn’s return and Buffy was desperate to try and melt away some of the tension. Friction between her and Angel had always been distressing, but Buffy seemed to feel it even more acutely now that she was bonded to her vampire lover by Tara’s spell. Lately she had been noticing that her and Angel’s emotions had become more synchronised – when he was happy so was she, and vice versa. And they were less inclined to spend time apart, thinking only of each other when they did so. This was a closeness Buffy had never experienced before and she was immensely protective over it.

 

She found Angel already in bed, deeply engrossed in some four-inch thick dusty tome. Sliding under the covers next to him she leant her cheek against his chest and cast her eyes downwards to the page he was looking at. Crowded rows of strange symbols met with her gaze and she frowned at the completely unfathomable text.

 

“What ya reading?” She asked in a soft voice.

 

Angel shifted slightly underneath her. “It’s an nineteenth century Chinese text on demonology.”

 

“Ooh, sounds exciting.” Buffy replied sarcastically.

 

“At least it helps put me to sleep at night.” He quipped in return.

 

“Well, if comes to that,” she adopted a seductive tone, “I can think of a lot more interesting ways to tire you out.” She dropped her hand beneath the bedclothes and rested it on his thigh.

 

“Buffy…” He began seriously, his body immediately tensing awkwardly.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

Angel sighed heavily. “I think we should talk.”

 

She pulled away from him, moving back to her side of the bed, her posture cold. “Talk? About what exactly?”

 

He ran his hand nervously through his spiked hair. “About us, about the baby.”

 

Buffy twisted around to face him, “I thought we’d talked about that already.”

 

“Maybe we didn’t cover everything.”

 

“What else is there to cover? We both want this and now we can have it.”

 

“It’s not quite as simple as that.” Angel said quietly. “There are more important issues that just what we want, Buffy.”

 

“Is this about what Gunn said?”

 

Angel looked totally taken-aback by her comment at first then dropped his gaze away from her and down to his hands. “Sort of,” he admitted. “Gunn just pointed out a few things that I should have realised anyway.”

 

“Gunn’s a jerk.” Buffy tried desperately. “You can’t pay attention to anything he says. He was just upset about Faith.”

 

“No,” Angel shook his head. “He was right. When-” he turned to Buffy and took her hand. “When I’m with you I forget. The past seems further away, less focused, as if it doesn’t matter that much anymore. You make me feel human again, like an ordinary man in love with an extraordinary woman.”

 

Buffy felt tears beginning to well in her eyes in response to Angel’s speech and she squeezed his hand.

 

“But,” his voice became choked. “I can’t forget – it’s too dangerous. What happened last time is proof enough of that.” He referred to when he lost his soul on the night of Buffy’s seventeenth birthday. “I’m still a vampire whatever the other circumstances, I still have the demon inside of me. I can’t bring a child into this world.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Angel looked up at her in surprise and she held his gaze.

 

“Why not?” Buffy repeated. “Give me one good reason.”

 

“I’m a vampire, isn’t that reason enough.”

 

She shook her head. “Nope, still waiting for something better than that.”

 

“What if I lose control of the demon? What if I hurt the baby? What of I can’t love it properly?”

 

“Angel,” Buffy smiled. “That’s not going to happen. You have a greater capacity for love than anyone else I know. And as for losing control, as long as you still have your soul then you’re fine and after all that magic that’s been cast on it, your soul’s not going anywhere.”

 

“But I don’t deserve this,” he continued to protest in a depressed tone. “After all the hurt and pain I’ve inflicted, I don’t deserve to be this happy. How can I expect a child to love me as their father after everything I’ve done?”

 

Buffy closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them again they were full of tears. “You’re such a beautiful, wonderful, kind person – how can anyone not love you?” She spoke softly, punctuating her words with a delicate kiss to his lips. “This isn’t about the past, this is about the future. We have a chance, Angel – one that we thought we never would. Please don’t throw it away.”

 

Angel drew her into his arms and held her there for a long time, his face buried in her hair. “This is what you want?” He asked eventually.

 

“This is what I want with you.” Buffy replied.

 

“Then OK, alright. We should do this.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Angel smiled slightly. “As I’ll ever be.”

 

Buffy matched his smile with a broad grin of her own and leant over him to switch off the bedside lamp. “Then we’d better pick up where we left of,” she suggested lightly.

 

He tackled her roughly in the dark and after that all that could be heard was a stream of happy giggles, giving way to whispered endearments and heavy sighs. Then finally fading into silence, as the couple fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            “Is this even a real place?” Faith surveyed the inside of the dingy social club. Smoke hung in the air in acrid blue tendrils and the furniture was old and battered, but at least there was a bar at one end, which was a definite plus point.

 

            “N-no,” Dennis answered her. “It’s not a real place in the sense that it exists on earth. It’s a creation of t-the spirit world, which we’ve nominated as our m-meeting place.”

 

            “You made up this place?” Faith asked incredulously. “You could have picked anywhere in the world and you came up with this dump? I knew you were a dweeb, but this exceeds even my expectations.”

 

            “Hey, Dennis!” A voice called out from across the room. Faith turned to see a young man with thick, wire-framed glasses and buckteeth materialise out of nowhere. “You actually brought a girl. Cool!”

 

            Faith’s mouth dropped open in abject horror. “That’s it,” she spun on her heel. “I’m out of here.”

 

            “B-but we only just arrived.” Dennis protested.

 

            “Oh, I think I’ve seen enough already.” She answered. “This kind of thing isn’t exactly my scene.”

 

“W-what do y-you like to do then?”

 

Faith looked around the room, her gaze settling on a table of middle-aged men in the corner. “Anything that doesn’t involve playing checkers and drinking root beer. Let’s just say I’m a lady who likes her alcoholic beverages to actually contain alcohol.”

 

Dennis looked uncertain. “I suppose there is somewhere else we can go…”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Wesley sat engrossed in the first few pages of Faith’s first Watcher’s diary. This was the third time he’d read it and he still couldn’t believe its contents and he was far from understanding what it meant – there were several reference books he needed to consult before he thought he could manage that. He wanted to be absolutely sure in his mind of all the facts before he went to Angel with this information, especially considering the sensitive nature of anything involving Faith now that Gunn had returned. Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly, he wasn’t sure if he could cope with any more tragic revelations.

 

            There was a light tap on his door, closely followed by Cordelia striding in cheerfully.

 

            “Working late again are we?” She asked brightly.

 

            “Well, as you’re so keen to remind me, we don’t all have your glittering social life.” Wesley snapped back, then mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant that comment, he was just tired and stressed and things had been so awkward between him and Cordelia recently that he no longer knew how to act around her.

 

            She seemed to almost visibly recoil at his remark, the smile vanishing from her face to be replaced by a hurt look, which only made Wesley feel worse.

 

            “I’ll just leave you to it then.” She muttered, turning to leave.

 

            “No, wait Cordelia.” He called after her. He desperately wanted to make things right between them again. He realised with a jolt that she was his best friend. Angel was too adept at keeping his distance from people to ever be considered as such to anyone but Buffy. Although he respected Gunn immensely, he thought that their personalities and backgrounds were too diametrically opposite to ever allow them to be that close friends. And paradoxically, despite Buffy being the same age as Cordelia, and in many ways the more mature of the two, Wesley had never stopped seeing her as the teenager he was once Watcher to and the tension from that time still lingered slightly between them. And since Faith’s death that was the extent of his social circle. His work was his world and the people he worked with the only ones he cared anything about. So, Cordelia was easily the most important person in his life and it was only now that he had managed to mess up their relationship that he finally got that.

 

            He tried to think of something to say, something deep and poignant that would express all these feelings, but he couldn’t imagine ever spilling his heart in such a frank way, especially to a woman who was married to someone else. Instead he remembered the gift-wrapped parcel that now sat in his desk drawer. Maybe a gesture would work better than words ever could.

 

            “I-I know that’s it’s not your birthday yet,” he began hesitantly, reaching down to open the drawer. “And I was going to give this to you at the party tomorrow, but I think you should have it now.”

 

            He awkwardly handed over the present and released a relieved sigh when Cordelia’s eyes lit up at the sight of the flat, oblong box.

 

            “Can I open it now?” She asked with a shy smile.

 

            Wesley just nodded, not trusting his voice.

 

            She sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk, laying the gift down on her knee as, with long, perfectly manicured nails, she released the ribbons that bound the package shut. Cordy lifted the box lid and separated the layers of tissue paper that protected the silk scarf inside. Gently lifting the scarf out of the box, her mouth opened in a pleasantly surprised gasp – she hadn’t known Wesley had anywhere near as good taste as this gift displayed. Certainly his own fashion sense belied the fact.

 

            “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. She reached over the desktop to grasp Wesley’s hand. “Thank you.”

 

            “You really like it?”

 

            She removed the scarf fully from the box and casually draped it around her neck. Standing up, she did a little twirl to model the accessory. “I love it!” Enthusiastically she kissed Wesley on the cheek and drew him into a warm hug. Pulling away from him slightly, she met his eyes, her happy smile gone and replaced with a more serious look. “I love it,” she repeated quietly.

 

            With hardly a thought in his head except for the proximity of Cordelia’s body to his, the sweet, musky smell of her perfume and the warmth of her breath on his face, Wesley leaned forward slightly to catch Cordy’s lips in a soft kiss. They stayed like that for neither knew how long, their lips just touching, their bodies pressed together, each afraid to break the moment. Finally Wesley realised he was holding his breath and moved away, sucking in a lungful of badly needed air as he did so.

 

            “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, refusing to look Cordelia in the eye.

 

            She bit her lip nervously and held out a slightly trembling hand to take hold of his.

 

            “For what?” She asked.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy knocked nervously on the motel room door, she wasn’t entirely sure why she was doing this – she just knew that she had to. She still mourned Faith deeply, but life went on and Gunn had to realise that. Things were finally beginning to come together for her and Angel; Buffy even thought that for the first time in his life (barring unmentionable, soul-losing episodes) he might actually be truly happy. Angel had spent the entire time he’d known Buffy trying to protect her, trying to preserve what little joy she did find in her life, and now it was her chance to return the favour. Gunn’s emotional outburst had clearly upset Angel, casting a dark cloud over the gift of life Tara had given him. Buffy was here to try and chase away that cloud, to smooth things over with Gunn, in order to try and make her new life with Angel as problem-free as possible.

 

            Maybe this was a selfish point of view – striving to ease another’s discomfort for the sole purpose of relieving her own – but at this moment Buffy didn’t really care about the morality of the act. She and Gunn had never gotten along, and although she had endless sympathy for his position, it wouldn’t really bother her if she never saw the man again in her life. Her concern for him was only for Angel’s benefit, but at least that much was better than no concern at all.

 

            She knocked again, this time more forcefully and less than a minute later the door swung open to reveal a very dishevelled looking Gunn. His clothes looked like he had slept in them and his eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. The sight shocked Buffy and suddenly she was struck with the reality of his pain and her desire to help him became more than selfish in nature. Gunn had lost the person he loved most in the world and Buffy of all people knew how that felt. When she thought she had killed Angel she ran away, just like Gunn had done in the wake of Faith’s death. And back when Buffy was seventeen Angel, although already in possession of her heart, wasn’t nearly as great a presence in her life as he was now. If she lost Angel now…she couldn’t bear to even think about it. She would self-destruct, lose all sense of meaning in her life, and she probably wouldn’t be able to cope with it anywhere near as well as Gunn was coping right now.

 

            A deep sense of empathy, and no small measure of pity, filled Buffy as she stood facing the hostile stare of Gunn. She resolved right then that she would do all that she could to help him though this, despite what their personal differences had been in the past.

 

            “How did you find me?” Gunn asked darkly, after his initial surprise at seeing her had faded.

 

            “I work as a Private Detective,” Buffy answered. “Finding people is part of the job description.” She paused briefly. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

 

            “Not until you tell me why you’re here.”

 

            She sighed, she had known this was going to be hard, but she had still hoped to be able to at least get through the door before the hostilities began. “I thought we needed to talk,” she replied patiently.

 

            “About what?”

 

            “About Faith, about whatever’s bothering you so much…”

 

            “Hey, if I wanted to talk to a psychotherapist then I’d go call in one of those radio shows,” he interrupted belligerently. “Now, just leave me alone.” He started to shut the door, but Buffy jammed her foot in it, her Slayer strength easily competing with Gunn’s half-hearted efforts to contest her. 

 

            “Why have you never liked me?” Buffy asked outright. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to that, but she had the feeling it was something Gunn probably needed to say.

 

            “What the Hell?”

 

            “No, really, tell me,” she insisted. Maybe this was a topic Gunn didn’t mind talking about and one that would cut straight to the heart of his argument with Angel, whilst also managing to take his mind off Faith. “We’ve never gotten along right from the start, and I certainly tried hard enough to be nice – so what is it about me that you hate so much?” Buffy cocked her head to one side and challenged him to answer her question with a harsh stare.

 

            Gunn stared back for a long moment, then sensing Buffy wasn’t going to back down, he dropped the eye contact with her. He retreated back into the room, dismissing Buffy as he did so. “Just get out of here, I don’t want to talk to you.”

 

            She followed him into the room and grabbed hold of his shoulder. “Well, you’re going to have to talk to somebody,” she said aggressively.

 

            “Get out of my face,” he yelled in return, shooting out his hand to push Buffy away from him. She retaliated with a swift kick to his lower jaw then while he was still disorientated Buffy twisted Gunn’s arm around his back and pinned him down on the bed.

 

            “Now you can let me help you, or I can beat the crap out of you,” she spoke in a low, dangerous voice in his ear. “Which is it to be?”

 

            “And you wonder why we don’t get on,” came Gunn’s reply, muffled by the bedclothes.

 

            Buffy released her grip on him, allowing him to stand back up. “I keep promising myself I’ll find some solution for interpersonal conflicts other than violence,” she said with a grin. “I might even manage it one day.”

 

            Gunn sat heavily down on the bed. “So, you really want to know why I don’t like you?” Buffy nodded in reply and he continued. “You’re Goddamn irritating.”

 

            She shrugged and perched next to him. “You’re not exactly Mr Congeniality yourself,” she replied. “I was hoping for something a little more insightful than that.”

 

            There was a long silence during which Buffy refused to speak – she was going to get the answers out of Gunn if it killed her – or him – in the process.

 

            Finally Gunn issued his reply to the question, in a voice that lacked all his bravado of earlier. “After you came everything changed.”

 

            “What everything? How do you mean changed?” She couldn’t resist asking.

 

            “I mean the company – Angel Investigations,” he clarified in a sharp tone. “Before you arrived we were like a family. Then you turned up and it was all ‘Buffy this’ and ‘Buffy that’. Angel just stopped caring about anything else but you.”

 

            Buffy was shocked by the comment – she had been expecting some major slur on her character, not a reason as basic as jealousy. “That’s not true.”

 

            “Oh yeah,” Gunn responded bitterly. “Then why did he hardly pay any attention when Faith was ill and why doesn’t he give a damn now she’s dead?”

 

            “Angel does care,” Buffy insisted. “He spent so much time with Faith when she was sick and he was devastated when she died. But he has his own life as well. Angel and I have been through a lot together – don’t we deserve a bit of happiness?”

 

            “Sorry, I forgot. You’re soulmates – you’ve got this big dramatic love that nobody else could possibly match. Everyone else’s feelings aren’t worth a damn compared to yours.”

 

            “Gunn,” Buffy spoke softly this time, his pained words reaching something inside of her. “Nobody denies how much you loved Faith. And nobody’s saying you don’t have a right to grieve her either. Just please don’t do it alone. We want to help – Angel and me.”

 

            “How can you help?” He asked, his voice twisted with grief. “You can’t bring her back.”

 

            “No, but we can make you feel a little less alone.”

 

            There was a long silence following Buffy’s words and she took the absence of a hostile retort as evidence she was finally getting through to him. “Come with us to Cordelia’s birthday party tonight,” she urged. “If not for me or for Angel, for Cordy – she was really upset when you left.”

 

            There was another pause, but it was shorter this time and Gunn was the one who ended it. “OK,” he agreed with a sigh. “But if Queen C complains I didn’t get her a gift, then I’m outta there.”

 

            He swiftly slipped on a leather jacket and headed towards the door, his back turned to the triumphant smile slowly spreading across Buffy’s face.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            When Faith opened her eyes she and Dennis were standing together in a dark alleyway – dark being the operative word. A total blackness surrounded them in three directions, the only point of interest being the door directly in front of them with the neon sign hung above it. A tall burly man stood on guard by it, his arms folded in a defensive posture, his expression one of bored contempt. Dennis edged closer to the man and spoke in a nervous voice.

 

            “W-we’d like t-two t-tickets, please.”

 

            The bouncer’s lip curled up in amusement. “S-sorry,” he mocked. “We don’t admit nerds.”

 

            Dennis’ cheeks flamed bright red and Faith felt anger flare up inside her. She strode forward aggressively, squaring up to the bouncer and flashing him the threatening expression she had perfected during her time as a rogue Slayer. “He’s with me, sugar,” she announced in a falsely sweet voice. “’Kay?”

 

            The man’s eyes flicked between her and Dennis and Faith could almost hear the sound of cogs whirring in his brain as he made the decision. Eventually, he stepped aside and let them through into the club.

 

            As soon as Faith passed through the door the heavy bass beat of the music assailed her ears. She sensed the crowds of people packing the large room before she saw them, individuals of all races, ages and dress styles, all swaying in time to the music. Disco lighting flashed and all along one wall was a long bar, which Faith made a beeline for. Now this was her sort of place.

 

            Grabbing Dennis’ hand she crossed the room, threading her way through the dancers. Bodies ground against her, greetings ranging from the friendly, to the hostile, to the luridly suggestive were issued and she grinned in return to each of them. She hadn’t realised how much she missed being part of a crowd until this moment. It was so satisfying to suddenly be noticed, be acknowledged, to have other people reach out and touch her. This was a world she truly belonged in, not just one she was stuck on the periphery of.

 

            “I’ll have a vodka,” she demanded of the barman. “Straight up.”

 

            “Sorry, we don’t serve spirits.” The guy replied then burst out laughing at his own joke, obviously a very well used one. Faith just rolled her eyes. “You’re new here aren’t you?” The barman continued.

 

            “Yeah, first time. I’m Faith.”

 

            “Trey,” he responded, holding out his hand to be shaken. After the formality he set a glass down on the counter and it filled with the clear alcohol, seemingly of its own accord. Faith picked it up and sniffed it suspiciously. It smelt like vodka, which, considering vodka didn’t exactly have the most pungent of aromas, wasn’t exactly saying much. Tentatively she tasted a little bit of it and it burnt her tongue in the way characteristic of strong liquor. The last of her reservations gone she swallowed the drink down in one, revelling in the way the heat filled her stomach and seconds later brought a pleasant rush to her head.

 

            “Cool,” she grinned broadly. “I’ll take another please and a diet coke for the lady,” she indicated Dennis and winked at the barman. This was going to be a good night, she decided, and a fantastic party.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            “Thank you! Thank you!” Cordelia squealed, hugging Buffy tightly. The Slayer’s eyebrows shot upwards and she flashed a desperate glance in the direction of Angel, who looked wryly amused by the scene. Who knew that something as innocuous as a pair of designer shoes could inspire such an enthusiastic reaction?

 

            “And now,” Cordelia announced with great fanfare. “I have a gift for you too.”

 

            “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Buffy replied, accepting the small, brightly wrapped package. After quickly ripping off the paper, her mouth dropped open in surprise. “A pregnancy test,” she tried to sound enthusiastic but failed miserably – not that Cordelia noticed, however. “You really shouldn’t have.”

            “Go do it now!” Cordy urged her excitedly. “You can use the bathroom down the hall.”

 

            “Great,” Buffy muttered to Angel, as she trudged past him further into the depths of Cordelia’s huge home. “Just what I need – everyone waiting anxiously for me to pee.”

 

            He smiled reassuringly then turned back to Cordelia who was already occupied with other guests. Giving up on ever getting another minute of Cordy’s attention while there were still gifts to be unwrapped, he scanned the room for other familiar faces, finally settling on Wesley and Gunn standing together in the corner.

 

            “Hey,” Angel walked over to greet them.

 

            Gunn nodded neutrally at him. “Hey, man.”

 

            “Ah, Angel,” Wesley showed a slightly more enthusiastic response. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you and Gunn together. I researched the issues raised in the diary of Faith’s first Watcher that Gunn managed to procure and my findings were quite interesting.” He cleared his throat. “If not a little disturbing.”

 

            “How d’you mean?” Angel asked, curiously.

 

            “Well, the diary made many references to Faith’s parents, who apparently were not of this earth.”

 

            “Yeah, that freaked me out too,” Gunn interjected. “It sounded like the guy was trying to say Faith was an alien.”

 

            “Not an alien, no.” Wesley corrected. “But from another dimension.”

 

            “Another dimension,” echoed Angel sceptically.

 

            “Yes, an alternative earth where society has evolved a little differently. The diary entries made reference to Faith hailing from I’Quiadia, a land terrorised by demons.”

 

            “You saying she’s not human?” Gunn asked aggressively. 

 

            Wesley shook his head. “No, quite the opposite. She is human, she just comes from another world, where, unlike in this reality, demons are the dominant race and people are in the minority.”

 

            “So, what’s she doing here?” Angel asked.

 

            “Well, I researched all the information I could about I’Quaidia and one prophecy stood out above the rest. A child of noble blood will banish the demons from the land and release its people from their enslavement.”

 

            “And you believe that Faith is this child?”

 

            “Recent history of I’Quaidia speaks of demon attacks becoming more frequent and more violent. Whereas before the human population lived reasonably safely within walled cities, now even that existence is under threat. Around 25 years ago demons assailed the royal palace, killing its entire household. By some miracle of fate the Queen’s baby daughter was spared. The Council of the city believed that the baby was being targeted specifically, because the demons were aware of the prophecy. They determined that the safest thing for the child was to remove her to another dimension until she was old enough to defend herself and return to fulfil the prophecy.”

 

            “But something went wrong,” Angel prompted.

 

            Wesley nodded. “Yes, the intention of the Council was that the child should be located and returned to I’Quiadia on her eighteenth birthday. But when they came in search of her she could not be found anywhere.”

 

            “Because she was in Sunnydale in a coma.”

 

            “Indeed,” Wesley pushed his glasses nervously back up his nose. “And here is where we get to the crux of the matter – Faith’s Calling as a Slayer. I think it was a mistake.”

 

            “A mistake?” Both Angel and Gunn exclaimed, astounded.

 

            “Yes, clearly Faith was a very strong and important young woman. She was imbued with a great about of power at her birth, and in this dimension that makes her a perfect candidate for being a Slayer. So, when Kendra died, she was automatically selected as the next Chosen One – a perversion of her destiny – and everything spiralled out of control after that.”

 

            “And now she’s dead, and unable to fulfil the prophecy.” Angel finished.

 

            Wesley flashed him a regretful look. “The phrase ‘oh dear’ does seem to spring to mind.”

 

            A long silence stretched between the three men as Wesley’s revelations began to sink in. Their moment of contemplation was broken, however, by Buffy bounding over, a slightly stunned look on her face. She grabbed hold of Angel and kissed him squarely on the lips.

 

            “It’s blue!” She announced enthusiastically, waving the test stick in the air. “That means positive, right? I can’t believe it – I’m pregnant! We’re actually going to have a baby!”

 

            Angel just gaped at her then turned to look over at Wesley and Gunn whose faces wore matching expressions of shock. Gunn was first to recover himself, however, and he grinned broadly at Angel, moving to slap him on the back.

 

            “Congratulations, man.”

 

            “Thanks,” Angel muttered distractedly. “I think I’m going to have to sit down.”

 

            There was a loud thump, the unmistakeable sound of a heavy object hitting the floor, as, for the first time in over two and a half centuries of existence, Angel fainted.

 

THE END

 

NEXT                FEEDBACK        RETURN TO CONTENTS