The night afterwards, Angel went hunting as usual... except /she/ wasn't there. He kept turning, expecting to see or sense her following, or looking for where she might hide. But she simply wasn't there, and after a while, he thought he might have finally scared her off.

But as he walked through Sunnydale, he realized something that really bothered him.

He missed her.

He couldn't seem to concentrate on the hunt. So he headed into the Bronze. She'd probably be there, he reasoned, dancing or talking with her friends, as a normal girl ought to. She'd be fine.

But after half an hour watching for her from the shadows of the club, he didn't see her. By this point, he was starting to get worried. Finally, he cornered one of her friends. "Where's Buffy?" he asked her.

The girl shrugged indifferently. "She wasn't in school, so she's probably sick at home." She paused. "Why?"

"I was worried about her. She's usually here, I... where does she live? So I can bring her some soup or something?" he fumbled.

She gave him a strange look, then shrugged. "Over on Revello Drive. You do know where that is, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem." the brunette replied, then turned to head for her friends, who were looking more than a little curious.

Angel left as quickly as he could.

He headed at a dead run for Revello Drive, and arrived a few minutes later. Once he was there, he looked around at the houses, and slowed to a walk, looking around at the houses. He could smell her... he stopped in front of a brick house. Here. he decided.

Then he realized that he had no idea what to do once he was there.

So he walked around the side of the house, peering at it. Buffy /had/ to be home.

Sure enough, as he passed an immense oak tree, he heard a whispered but incredulous "Angel?" from the second story.

"I'm here." he said. "I..." It cost him much to admit it, but he said "I was worried about you. I thought I'd check up on you."

"Come on up." she said. Her voice sounded a bit strange, maybe somewhat strained. "We need to talk."

"I should..."

"Please, Angel."

He scaled the tree with ease. "Come in." he heard from the inside.

"That's not a good idea." he murmured, but climbed in through the window anyway.

The light was off, but he could clearly see Buffy by the moonlight, sitting crosslegged on her bed. Could see the bruises and scratches on face and arms. Could smell the blood, and the fear.

"What happened?" he demanded, going to her side instantly.

"A jealous lover." she replied. "She said her name was Darla. She wasn't too happy with... with me. What I'd been doing..." Angel closed his eyes. Buffy, helpless innocent Buffy, in Darla's clutches. He could well imagine that she wouldn't be happy. "She said she was going to make an example of me to you, and that I wouldn't be a problem any more. She roughed me up a bit before I managed to get my cross out, and I ran. I had to tell Mom that I was mugged." Buffy reached up and touched the livid bruise on one cheek. "And she was out there about an hour after dinner. Just... watching from the shadows." She shuddered. "She wants to kill me."

His blood turned to ice, and he said "Not while I'm here."

She looked up at him. "Thanks." she hesitated, then asked "Who is she?"

"My Sire. She created me." he replied, settling down to sit on the bed beside her. "She's rather possessive, and none of the vampires are happy about me switching sides."

She bit her lip, then asked "Why did you? Switch sides, I mean."

He laughed bitterly. "I didn't always hunt my own kind. Once I was one of them. I hunted, tortured, killed... I was the worst of them. But then... one night, Darla captured a Romanian girl. Sweet... innocent... and not too bright. I killed her. Her clan cursed me."

"Clan?"

"Romani. Gypsies. They wanted to punish me. So they gave me back my soul. And since then, I've never fed off of a human. /Never/."

Buffy nodded slowly. "Why are you here?"

"There's an ancient vampire here." Angel replied grimly. "The Master. My Sire's Sire. He commands every single vampire in this town, and in the state if he wished it. He wants to harness the power of the Old Ones."

"The Old Ones?"

"Ancient powers, cast from this world long ago. At great cost, though." Angel had unconciously drawn her against his side, into his arms, and he was stroking her hair as he talked, eyes focused somewhere else. "The battle lost us the Slayer."

"What is the Slayer?"

"No one knows." he replied. "Some say it was a Warrior for Good... or a weapon. Or a magus. Only the Watchers know... their motto includes something about the Slayer."

"Who are the Watchers?" she asked.

He chuckled, but obediently answered "They're witches and mages, some of them. They love knowledge, perhaps more than anything. They have libraries in every major city, and know more about the supernatural than any one group on this planet."

"Wow." She had nestled against his chest, and he looked down at her. A part of him wondered at how trusting she was. Another part didn't give a damn.

I should leave. he thought regretfully. If I do this, I'm only setting her up for heartbreak, and more pain. She's so beautiful... so pure. But... it's too late now. Darla is after her. Maybe... just maybe...

"Angel?" He looked down at her.

"Will... will you stay here? To make sure Darla doesn't..."

"All right..."

"Thanks." she murmured. He scooted back against the backboard, cradling her in his arms. She curled up against him, and soon fell asleep.

This is wrong. Angel thought, gazing down at her. I shouldn't be here. I should just walk away... but I can't. And I'd miss her. He reached down tentatively, moving a stray lock of hair away from her face, tracing the bruise lightly. She sighed in her sleep. Why now? he wondered regretfully. The world is on the brink of destruction. The Master... everything. And she's so frail.

He stayed halfway through the night, then left, pulling the covers up around her and dropping a light kiss on her forehead before he slipped out through the window and away.