Chapter XVIII

The doctor warned Angel and Giles that Buffy's concussion had been fairly serious and the combination of physical and emotional trauma had drained her.  It would take time for her to recover and Angel promised Giles he would make sure she stayed put until she did. The only reason the doctor allowed Angel to take her home after an unusually brief observation period was her very real and visible fear of having to stay in the hospital even for one night.  It was obvious that her aversion to the harsh, clinical atmosphere affected her deeply and was more harmful than good.

Angel knew the abduction had taken a greater toll on Buffy than she would admit or possibly was even aware of herself.  He noticed she had been unnaturally quiet when Lindsey drove them straight from the cabin to the hospital.  Instead of sleeping, as may have been expected, she laid in Angel's arms passively, staring out into the darkness beyond the side window.  She refused to accept the standard counseling given to victims and was unwilling to discuss what happened in any detail.

Angel was faintly surprised at her reaction.  Buffy was a fighter, a strong, resilient woman, always able to deal with whatever she faced and not one to take anything lying down.  But she had been content to let him take care of her as he wished and had given no argument to his undivided attention.  He knew something was very wrong, but all he could do was give her time.  The doctor had told him some form of shock was a normal occurrence and Angel strongly suspected that was the case.  Even after so many years, he worriedly remembered his own experience all too well and hardly let her out of his sight.

*****

Two days after Angel brought her home Lindsey McDonald dropped by the house.  Buffy listened to the low hum of voices from down the hall, then finally the sound of the front door closing.  Lindsey had poked his head in when he first arrived to say hello and see how she was doing.  She found herself momentarily fixed under his pensive gaze before he turned and followed his ex-team leader back to the living room.

Due to Angel's concerned diligence in making her eat and rest, Buffy's color had already slightly improved.  Although it still made her head throb if she moved too quickly and she still tired very easily, her strength was gradually returning.  The Bureau had requested their presence for a debriefing, but Angel refused to leave Buffy's side to go to the office or admit anyone from the team into the house until he was sure she could handle it.  After everything Angel had told her that he knew about Holtz, she was sure the older man was responsible for not forcing the couple to comply with Bureau policy.  And it was probably at Holtz' discretion that Lindsey McDonald had been sent as a kind of emissary.  She was almost positive she knew the reason for the agent's visit and it wasn't long before she found she was right.

Angel appeared in their bedroom moments after Lindsey left, clearly disconcerted with the information he had just received.  As he expected, William 'Spike" Holtz was being held for kidnapping Buffy and holding her against her will.  Angel believed Spike was guilty of more, but in spite of his circumspect questions, he hadn't been able to get her to share what actually occurred.  Knowing she hadn't bounced back from the experience had made him wary of forcing the issue.  So what Lindsey reported to him caught him totally off guard.

He crossed the room with a measured step, reaching the bed to sit beside her.  "You never mentioned a gun, Buffy," Angel said tightly, trying to conceal just how upset he was.  "McDonald's team found one right outside the cabin."  He waited but she said nothing.  "It had to belong to Spike," he asserted.  She remained silent, neither acknowledging nor denying what he said, she kept her gaze riveted on the spot where her fingers played with the edge of the blanket.  "Spike had a lump on his head that corresponded with the butt of the gun," Angel added, still looking for a response.

"As I recall, he had a lot of lumps.  How could you tell one from another?" she asked, finally speaking, but not looking up.  Buffy remembered the bruises covering Spike's face and head, and his broken gait as he held his arms across his stomach, every step an open agony.  His father nearly carried him to the waiting car.  She knew after the run in with Riley just how dangerous Angel was when it involved her well being.  Spike looked like he'd been brutally beaten within an inch of his life.

Angel was thrown by her unexpected reply.  "He's lucky all he got were lumps, he deserved to be dead," he shot back, instantly enraged all over again at what had happened ... what could have happened.

Buffy knew he was deathly serious.  She thought it was quite possible that the only reason Spike had survived was due to Angel's need for him to be alive until she was found.  The obvious violence of her lover's assault on the peroxided blonde made her shiver in spite of the blanket that covered her.  If Angel had known about the gun when they were at the cabin, she sincerely wondered if Spike would even be breathing right now.

Angel immediately regretted his sharp retort.  He knew she'd been bottling something up inside and now he'd silenced her by lashing out.  He couldn't deny that it hurt to think she hadn't told him about the gun and it frightened him because he didn't know why.  It wasn't the only thing he feared, but he pushed his own qualms away ... this was about her.  He couldn't count all the times she'd been there when he needed her ... now she needed him.

He searched for something to say to get her to open up and talk to him.  "Spike said you hit him with a bottle," he said, recounting what McDonald had told him.  "There was a broken bottle, but it wouldn't have left a lump the size of a golf ball like the one in the picture I just saw," Angel said, trying to keep his voice level.  "And if, as he said, you 'kicked him in the balls', he would have been in too much pain to even notice what you used to knock him out."  He saw the faint blush that crept across her cheeks, but she made no reply.

"You didn't have a gun and it didn't get there all by itself," he said in exasperation.  "It had his fingerprints all over it," he continued.

"You don't have to play FBI agent with me, Angel," she said quietly.  "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Tell me?  Maybe why you didn't feel I was important enough to even tell me about the gun?  I had to find out about it from McDonald?"  No matter how hard he tried to stay objective and keep his feelings out of it, he failed miserably.  "I thought we could tell each other anything," he said softly, his disappointment evident.

"I was afraid if you knew he had a gun you would kill him," she answered, sitting up with sudden animation.

"You were protecting him?" he asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.  "He hurt you!" Angel exclaimed.

Buffy shook her head in frustration.  "It's because I felt that you were important that I didn't tell you!" she explained.  "I don't care about him!  I was afraid for you!  I know what you would have done if you knew he had a gun.  You would have killed him!"

"Yes," he agreed without hesitation in a dark, chilling tone, "I would have."

"And that's exactly why I didn't," she replied passionately.  "You're too important to me to take the chance of losing you.  And if it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened."

Suddenly it was all too much, everything that had been swirling around in her mind for the last couple days overwhelmed her and she couldn't contain it any longer.  It all came pouring out in a torrent, her words running into each other, much as the tears that suddenly appeared and ran down her face.  Somewhere during her broken ramblings Angel drew her into his lap without even being aware of his actions.

"I was scared, Angel ... I was so stupid, I didn't listen to you, I didn't even think about who was at the door.  He was drinking, all I could smell was the whiskey when he tied me up, telling me what he was going to do ... all the time I was trying to get out of the ropes I couldn't stop thinking of you and Dru and how terrified you must have been ... then he turned around and he had a gun ..."

His arms tightened, but Angel didn't stop her, didn't even try.  Consciously relaxing his hold, he caressed her, his warm hands sliding up and down her back, in smooth, soothing movements.

"I never thought about a gun ... why not a gun though, but he acted so strange with it, then he caught me ... I almost got away, but he caught me ... I didn't want him anywhere near me, Angel, and I got away ... I finally got away ... I hit him with the gun so he couldn't hurt me, so he couldn't ... so he couldn't ... I-I ran, I was so afraid and I got lost and I knew you were looking for me ... Spike said you were looking and I thought you wouldn't find me and I had to help you ... I couldn't do that, I couldn't leave you ... " she trailed off out of breath.

He thought she was done and had almost pulled back to look down at her when she went on.

"I tried to get back, but I couldn't, there were just trees and more trees and it was pouring rain, I kept falling down ... but you found me, you were so warm, I love you so much and I heard you talking to Spike ... and you saw him, you saw the little boy, you listened to him ... but then I saw Spike when they took him outside and he could barely walk, he was all bloody and his face was swollen and black and blue and I knew you'd done that, you'd done that for me and it scared me because it was my fault and you could have killed him even if he didn't want to use the gun ... it was all my fault ...

The tumbling words turned to whimpers and Angel finally shushed her, trying to calm the sobs still hiccuping between her small gasps for air.

"Shh ..." he whispered softly, covering her with his arms as if to shield her from her unseen demons.  "It wasn't your fault, love.  It's all right," he murmured.  He rocked her gently, feeling her tears on his skin as they soaked through his shirt.

"It was -" she tried to protest.

His mouth covered hers to gently stop her from saying more.  When he finally broke the kiss, he pulled her against him.  He kept his cheek nestled next to hers, murmuring soft words to quiet her.  In spite of his deep concern, Angel had a strangely rewarding feeling being the one giving comfort instead of receiving it.

"You need sleep, Buffy," he told her as he gently slid her off his lap and back under the covers.  "We'll talk about this later, but now you need some rest."  His heart twisted as she looked up at him longingly, then guiltily dropped her head as if she wasn't entitled to his company.  "I'm not leaving, love," he said as he quickly stripped off his clothes down to his boxers and slipped in behind her.  She was tense when he first spooned himself around her, but relaxed against him almost in spite of herself.  "Now sleep," he softly commanded.

*****

Buffy woke when she felt a warm, comforting hand gliding lightly over her hip, down her thigh, then back up.  She leaned back against the pillows and looked up into an even warmer gaze from chocolate brown eyes overflowing with love and concern.

"Hi," he whispered, smiling down at her.  "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

He saw a shadow flit across her features and her lashes fluttered down, hiding her eyes from him.  Angel wasn't surprised.  He was thankful that she had finally divulged the dark thoughts and feelings she had kept locked inside.  No one knew better than he did just how detrimental they could be the longer they were allowed to remain.  He doubted though, that the sudden release from her pent up emotions, followed by a few hours of sleep would change her opinion.

He rolled gently on top of her, pinning her in place, Buffy's thighs opened instinctively to welcome his body in its accustomed place.  Keeping his weight off of her by leaning it on one elbow, his eyes were focused on the small face trying to turn away.  He lifted one finger, running it tenderly down the fine bones of her cheek and jaw, then cupped his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him.  "I love you," he told her with heartfelt conviction.  When she lowered her eyes, he said, "You'll never know how much."

"More than I deserve," she said in a whisper, unable to ignore how her actions had led to her capture.

He sighed, giving her an understanding look and agreed, "I know how that feels."

"It's not the same thing, Angel," she replied quickly, shaking her head.  "If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened."

He fingered her silky hair, examining his thoughts.  "If it wasn't for you," he finally told her, "I wouldn't know what love is.  You wouldn't be in my life and you wouldn't have been in any danger ... and none of this would have happened."

"You're not going to blame yourself for this," she exclaimed, no longer avoiding his gaze, but meeting it with a sudden fire flashing dangerously from her green eyes.  "It wasn't your fault before and it isn't now."  She was afraid that whatever had finally made him understand that he was never responsible for Dru's death would be lost.  "It was never your fault," she reiterated.

In that single defining moment in the cabin, the reality of what had befallen him as a child had been so clear to Angel.  However, years of harboring guilt, no matter how misplaced, wasn't an easy thing to dismiss.  It was second nature to Angel to wear blame like an ill-fitting coat, albeit one not easily shirked and thrown away.  Buffy was inadvertently showing him the necessity to do just that.  She was repeating his mistake, berating herself for something she didn't cause.  Both of them needed to place the culpability where it belonged.

"Not any more than it's yours ... right?" he challenged as he returned her remonstrative glare.

His simple question brought her up short, making her realize how right he was.  She may not have heeded Angel's warnings and used caution when opening her apartment door.  But it was Spike who was behind all that transpired, not her and not Angel.  Buffy gave the dark eyes holding hers a slow nod, conceding his point.

He lowered his forehead against hers.  "I love you," he said once more, with emphasis on each word.

"I love you too," she told him right before his lips descended on hers.  She needed that solid reassurance, needed to feel his warmth, his body close to hers, needed to feel his love blanket her.

The kiss was slow and tender as he carefully caged her beneath him, arms on either side of her head.  He had to force himself not to go further, remembering her weakened condition.  Rolling back, he stretched out on his side next to her, his fingers returning to play with strands of her long blonde hair.

His loving gaze swept over her small form.  Angel could sense something was still wrong.  "That's not everything," he said.  When she didn't respond he looked at her more intently.  Surprised, he saw a wary look on her face.  "Buffy?"

His gaze penetrated straight to her soul and made her wonder if she was just as transparent to him as he appeared to her.  There was one more thing that kept coming back to her.  Angel had said they should share everything, but this was something he wasn't going to want to hear.  She took a deep breath as her eyes darted back and forth across his face.  "It's about Spike.  I don't think he meant ... "

"... to hurt you or worse?" He finished before she could.  Angel's voice matched the instantly ominous look on his face.

She quickly raised her hand to his cheek to calm him, "No, Angel, that's not what I meant.  Please ..." she asked without finishing her request.  The expression he gave her was guarded, but he kept silent, waiting for her to continue. "I didn't mean he didn't plan on taking me and maybe doing more than he did," she said, looking at him.  "But the gun.  That was different."  At his look of bewilderment she went on, "I think he was afraid of the gun, afraid to use it.  It's kind of how I got away from him."

Angel was now completely in the dark.  "So what?  What difference does it make why as long as he didn't?

"That's just it, Angel," she tried once more, "Why didn't he?"  Buffy turned slightly to hold his gaze.  "The gun scared him so badly he almost dropped it."  At his continued look of confusion she said, "You're not the only one with scars, Angel.  Spike might have caused some of yours, but he has his own too."

Angel gave her a stony look.  He didn't even try to summon any sympathy for Spike Holtz.  "So why do you care?" he wanted to know.  "You don't even know Spike."

"Because he needs help.  Because there might be something there worth the effort," she said earnestly.  "You were."

Angel's eyes flared with dark anger.  He understood her intent.  Some very small part of his mind could even accept that Spike might need more than a jail cell.  But it didn't change the danger he presented to Buffy or the terror he had purposely created.  Angel couldn't find it in him to be concerned about Spike, in fact, quite the opposite.  He enunciated slowly, "He drugged you, he abducted you, he tied you up.  And then he planned on raping you and – " he stopped unable to complete the sentence.  With every word she felt the tension in his muscles increase.  "I don't care what he thought about the goddamn gun."

Buffy wasn't easily intimidated or dissuaded.  Still looking into the depths of his dark brown eyes she answered with another hint of green fire in her own, "I know better than you what he did.  I was the one who was there with him.  Maybe I'm wrong and it doesn't make any difference.  But other people were hurt and have been for too many years.  There's already been enough damage done, I refuse to make it worse," she said with a tone of determination he was all too familiar with hearing.

"Just forgive and forget?" he questioned harshly.  "You think it's that easy, just let it all go?"

"No," she said honestly, "I don't think you'll ever do that, but you don't have to make it harder."  She leaned into him.  "Angel," she asked more softly, once more searching his face, "what purpose will holding onto any of it really serve?  He has enough problems and so does his father.  Hasn't all this gone on long enough?"

"He has to pay for what he did to you," Angel insisted, still not moved by what she said.

"Of course he does!  There was never any question.  But he's been paying all along too, Angel, and he still is," she said.  "There's no need for us to add to it.  You told me about his father," she reminded him.  "He was there for you even if you didn't know.  Couldn't you at least think of him?"

"His father is the only reason Spike isn't dead," he said coldly.

"Then do one more thing for him," she entreated him.  "Just tell Holtz what I said, that's all I'm asking.  It's not much, but it might make a difference to him ... to both of them."  Angel had wiped all expression from his face, Buffy couldn't tell what his reaction was to her request.  "This needs to be finished, done," she said.  "To get on with our lives, we need to put all this behind us, not drag it out to cause more pain and misery for anyone.  Please, Angel."

*****

The doorbell echoed through the house.  Opening the front door, he found Liam Angelus standing before him.

Angel lifted his chin, leveling his gaze on Daniel Holtz and said, "We need to talk."

****

Buffy was tired of staying in bed, but the moment she even moved a foot out of it, Angel was right there to put it back under the covers.

“Don’t want those beautiful toes peeking out of there again,” he warned her, kissing said toes lovingly before tucking them under the sheet and blanket.

“My toes don’t need to be here anymore than the rest of me,” she grumbled petulantly.  “There’s nothing wrong with me, Angel.”

“You're still suffering from the effects of the concussion, according to the doctor,” Angel reminded his willful patient. “To say nothing of bruises from head to foot,” he added.  "It's either here or the hospital."

Buffy shivered at the word, but gave him a mournful look.  “It’s been four days,” Buffy pouted, sitting up, crossing her arms over her chest.  “And I don’t remember the doctor saying I’d have to spend the rest of my life horizontal.”

Angel let his gaze linger over every inch of her.  “And that would be a bad thing … how?” he smirked leeringly at her.  He was happy to hear her complain, it was the first really Buffy-sounding thing he'd heard her say.  He took it as a sign of her continuing recovery.

Much as he wanted to and as engagingly willing as she was, he had refrained from making love to her.  He wasn’t taking any chances where she was concerned.  He needed to see the sparkle back in her eyes and more color return to her cheeks before he would go any further than soft, light kisses and gentle caresses.  But it didn’t mean he couldn’t make her more comfortable, he reasoned, if he was very, very careful.

Buffy gave him a sly smile in return.  He had treated her like glass ever since he brought her home.  She loved him for it, but she didn’t think she was quite that fragile.  “I think you need to examine these bruises much more closely,” she suggested, slipping back down, pushing the covers away.
 
He grinned at her, sitting on the edge of the bed.  She was lost in one of his shirts, as usual, making him marvel once more at what she could do for a simple white shirt.  Just as he started to indulge her by unbuttoning it, the doorbell rang.  Angel growled at the interruption.  Looking back at her with longing, he left the room to answer the door.  When he opened it, he found Buffy’s best friend standing before him.  “Willow,” he greeted her, trying to keep the growl out of his voice.  He stood there for long moments just looking at her.

Angel had really been making an attempt to learn how to act in this new world in which he found himself.  His normal response to finding anyone on his doorstep would have been to close the door without a word.  Knowing Buffy was more than ready to continue where he’d left off with her made things even more difficult.  But he knew slamming the door in the redhead's face or scaring Willow away wasn’t how Buffy expected him to deal with company – no matter what they’d been about to do.

“Hello, Angel,” Willow said, waiting patiently outside.

“You’re here to see Buffy,” he answered, stating the obvious, then finally opening the door wider and stepping back to allow her inside.

“Well, yes,” Willow agreed.  “And you too,” she added with a smile as she took a few steps into the room.

“Oh, I uh … let me get Buffy,” he said gruffly, escaping to the bedroom while he left her standing there.  Moments later he came back with Buffy swathed in a blanket, curled securely in his arms.  Walking past her, as though Willow wasn’t even there, Angel lowered himself into his chair, still holding Buffy close to his chest.

Buffy motioned for Willow to take the chair beside them.  “Sorry, Wills,” she explained, “this was the only way he’d let me out of bed.”

Willow didn’t think Buffy looked all that unhappy about Liam's over-protectiveness.  But she was rather surprised that he hadn’t left Buffy in the chair and disappeared.  “Are you feeling any better,” she asked, worried that there might be a reason he was staying so close.

“I’m fine,” Buffy answered, giving Angel an exasperated look, “He won’t believe me though.”

Angel remained silent, trying to blend in as part of the chair.  As much as he’d rather be somewhere else, she was right.  He wasn’t letting her out of his sight, no matter what she told him.

Buffy had a fair idea of what he was thinking and ignored it completely.  “Angel, I’d really like some coffee,” she whispered to him.  “And Willow might too.”

So much for his watching, he thought, taking the broad hint and reluctantly sliding her into the chair as he stood up.  “Would you like some coffee or tea, Willow?” he asked politely.  Angel never understood the need to feed people, but he knew it was part of the ritual of visiting and acquiesced to his lover’s request.

Willow hid a smirk, telling him, “Coffee is good, thank you.”  As soon as he was out of sight, she leaned over and whispered, “How are you really?”

“Truth?  I’m still pretty sore around the head and bruises, but I’m not telling him that,” Buffy admitted.  She peeked in the direction he had gone then said in a low voice that couldn't be overheard, “I’m more worried about him than me.  He’s been so sweet taking care of me, but he’s not getting enough sleep himself.  I think he’s still afraid something might happen.”

“Like what?” Willow wanted to know.

“Nothing specific,” Buffy tried to explain, “I think it’s gonna take him a while to get used to good things happening.  He hasn’t had a lot of that.”

With an eye towards the kitchen, Willow laughed softly, “Something tells me that won’t be a real problem anymore.  You’ve always been good at challenges, Buffy.”  She giggled with a twinkle in her eye, “He couldn’t have found anyone better to help him ... umm … adjust.”

“Willow!” Buffy exclaimed.  She’d known her best friend for years and couldn’t believe what she was insinuating.  Willow had always been rather embarrassed and shy when even the word ‘sex’ was mentioned.  It seemed life with Tara was having an effect on her partner.  Buffy started to say more when she heard Angel’s footsteps.

He came back holding a tray that he had painstaking arranged with mugs of coffee and some cookies he found.  Buffy flashed him a smile against his unsure expression, which helped ease his awkwardness.  Carefully setting the tray on the small table beside the chair, he offered coffee and a cookie to Willow.  He turned back towards his chair, looking down at its small occupant.  It wasn’t hard to anticipate his unspoken request and Buffy reached out her arms.  Lifting her and slipping beneath her in the chair in one fluid movement, he drew her against him.  Angel couldn’t fathom the secretive smiles he caught on both young women before they melted away.  He had a hard enough time with becoming accustomed to people in general.  Understanding women was something he knew he would never accomplish.  He didn’t realize he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Willow sighed happily to herself, perusing the couple before her.  They seemed invisibly attached, tuned into their own internal wavelength to each other.  She almost expected when one took in a breath of air, the other would exhale it.  It was sweet how each worried more about the other.

She’d known Buffy for several years, seen her date many different men.  Even though Willow had been the one who thought Buffy would be able to work with Angelus, she’d never expected them to end up together.  Whatever it was Buffy had been missing and searching for, she had finally found.  As strange as some might find Liam Angelus, Willow could see how uniquely the two complemented and completed each other.

As she watched Liam lovingly spoon sugar into Buffy’s coffee for her, Willow thought back to when she first saw him.  It wasn’t that he had changed all that much since then around other people, she thought, but around Buffy.  The smile that lit his face as he lowered his head towards the figure held closely beside him was something she was sure few had witnessed.  She doubted he would ever gain many social graces, but mantled in Buffy’s love, one would hardly notice.

Willow shook her head slightly when she realized Buffy was speaking to her.  The two women talked while Angel remained quiet, absently stroking his lover’s hair.  He hadn’t been wrong to insist Buffy needed rest.  Willow could see her friend was tiring quickly.  She wisely kept the visit short, telling Buffy she had a few errands to run.  Willow was surprised when Angel cautiously touched her arm as he opened the door for her when she was leaving.  She looked up at him and saw him nod in Buffy’s direction.

“She thinks she’s doing better than she really is,” he said in a worried tone only Willow could hear.  "I don’t mean to keep her friends away.”

As Willow stepped outside and out of Buffy’s hearing, she reassured him, “I didn’t think you did.  And I don’t think anyone else could take better care of her than you."  Willow saw a mixture of shyness and relief wash through Angel’s face and again was reminded of how stoic he usually appeared.  Now she thought she saw a smile trying to find its way to his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Buffy has a good friend,” then quietly closed the door as she walked away.

*****

As soon as Buffy recovered according to his watchful satisfaction, Angel insisted on making their vows to one another legal.  Some small part of him would always think no one, including himself, would ever be good enough for her.  But it was his way of showing Buffy he had finally overcome his demons.  And he wanted, at last, to officially show the world how much she meant to him.  At his request, the wedding was arranged in the shortest time allowable.

Giles looked at the small gathering of friends and family surrounding him, then at the two before him.  He couldn’t contain the smile that broke past his usual reserve.  Never had he seen Buffy so radiant in all the years he had known her.  The love shining from her eyes was reflected back in full by the tall, dark-haired man looking down at her as he placed the antique Claddagh ring on her finger.  The groom extended his arm as she slipped the matching ring on his finger.  As one, they lifted the rings to each other and kissed them.

 One look at her lover, now husband, beaming a smile at her the size of the sun melted away any loneliness and emptiness Buffy had ever felt.  She knew how much this meant to Angel, only this moment realizing it was just as important to her.  They finished exchanging their vows and Angel bent down to give her a passionate kiss, regardless of their audience.

As swift and simple as it was, Giles couldn’t remember a more joyful occasion.  Jenny squeezed Giles’ hand, nodding silently towards Tara.  The young woman quietly brushed a tear from Willow’s cheek as the redhead rejoined her.  Willow had stepped down from her place beside the bride to watch her float down the aisle on Angel's arm.

Buffy gave Angel's best man a wink when she saw Faith making a beeline for him after the ceremony.  Lindsey's eyes twinkled in return as he clasped the brunette's hand firmly in his own.  A few moments later, Cordelia caught Angel unawares, pulling his head down and kissing him on the cheek with an audible smack.  Recovering his wits from the unforeseen attack he found his sister already walking away, flashing the newly married couple a jubilant smile.  Wes, trailing behind her, gave them a silent nod of congratulations.

In the far corner of the room Angel saw an older man move towards the exit door.  With one hand on the handle, the man turned and gave Angel a look filled with pride, love … and joy.  With a faint smile he silently slipped out the door and was gone.

Once Angel took Buffy in his arms to start their first dance as husband and wife the rest of the world fell away.  Neither of them was fully aware of anything else for the remainder of the evening except each other.

*****

Buffy woke several nights later, as she often had, without the familiar warm chest pressed against her back.  She didn’t like it, but didn’t panic either.  She knew where he was.  As careful and guarded as Angel had been during all the time since her disappearance and subsequent return, he failed to hide from her how much of an impact her ordeal with Spike still had on him.  It wasn’t Angel’s past that weighed on him anymore.  Facing that small child from long ago and the storms had finally put them both to rest.  Nor was it even a matter of who was accountable for any of it.  What terrified him was just the thought of almost losing Buffy.

She was more right than she realized when she told Willow he wasn’t used to good things happening.  Years spent alone and isolated, weren’t forgotten or undone overnight.  Angel wasn’t finding it easy to let go of well-worn patterns of looking at life from the dark side.  He had finally found someone to share his life, someone who loved him as much as he loved her.  He couldn’t get over coming so close to losing everything he had so recently gained.

At night, he lay in bed unable to sleep, holding Buffy gently as she slept in his arms.  She felt so small, looked so vulnerable.  The depth of emotion he felt looking at her, touching her, was so overpowering it left him shaking.  He had to get out of bed afraid he would wake her.  He would sit, as he had tonight, before the fire, trying to distract himself with old friends who had always been there for him – his books.
 
She found Angel sleeping in his chair, small flames softly flickering, licking the logs on the hearth.  Her lips curved into a soft smile as she read the title of the book he held, the habitual finger holding his place on the page.  It was the book he had read to her the last few nights.  She had never read or heard much poetry, never really understood it.  But when Angel recited it to her, even if the lines sounded strange to her ears, she knew what they meant.  She found she loved it when she heard Angel’s velvet tones turn words into the worlds.  It was the only time, except when he made love to her, that his voice held such passion … such pathos.  He was so beautiful, she reflected, inside and out.

Her heart broke for him, seeing the dark circles beneath his eyes. She saw the frightened glances he thought he concealed and she woke when his arms quivered around her.  She knew what worried him, having the same fears herself.  Life without Angel was now unimaginable to her.  But she also knew they needed to take what they had and live it a moment at a time.  It was better to cherish what was there, than wonder what was to come.  He needed time and he needed her.  Buffy meant to be there for whatever it took.  She curled up in the chair that sat next to his, unwilling to disturb what little rest he had found.  Tucking a small throw around her, Buffy gazed at him for a very long time, until she drifted off to sleep herself.

 *****

Angel no longer had nightmares.  Exorcised with truth and love, they lost the power to haunt him.  But still his sleep wasn’t restful.  He had fallen into a fitful doze.  Opening his eyes, he found himself staring, not at the fire banked low in the grate, but at the chair pulled up before it.  He literally rubbed his eyes, then almost pinched himself to find if he was asleep or awake.

So very many times this same illusion had filled his dreams.  Just as often he had thought it real and reached out only watch it melt into nothingness.  Tongues of fire from the dying embers flickered over the soft curve of a cheek, framed by long dark lashes closed in sleep.  The flames shimmered on the golden curls of tousled hair that trailed down low over breasts that gently rose and fell.  Creamy, velvet skin was flushed from the glowing warmth.  It was such an evocative, yet comforting vision.

Quietly, swiftly, as if the image before him would suddenly dissolve, Angel slid from his seat and fell to his knees in front of the chair only scant feet from his own.  So very, very gently he laid one finger on the cheek that begged for his touch and traced the outline with a feather light caress.  The ethereal dream didn’t fade away, but stayed, solid and vibrant under his hand.  A lump formed in his throat, but it didn’t quell the sob that wrenched its way out.  She was real and she was there.  More … she was his.  His wife.

Her long lashes fluttered open at the strangled sound and he was caught in a mossy green gaze.  Love and concern welled up in her luminous eyes, as she searched his face.  He heard an almost inaudible sigh fall from her lips as she tenderly brought them close to cover his own.  Warmth surrounded him as she pulled him gently into her embrace.  He opened his mouth to the soft demand of her moist tongue.  It was so sweet and soft against his as she suckled it slowly.  Letting himself fall into the taste and feel, he lost himself deep in the kiss.

Angel wasn’t even aware of the single tear that escaped, trailing down from the corner of his eye, until her slender finger reached up to catch it.  “Angel?”  That achingly endearing way she always spoke his name, asking and claiming in one breath, made his heart constrict.  “Shhh ...” she soothed as his own breath hitched in response.

He burrowed his face into the hollow of her breasts, inhaling her scent in deep breaths.  Her firm, gentle fingers slid up the nape of his neck and into his hair drawing his head closer to rest there.  He lifted one hand to part the cloth covering her skin and felt her own hand pull the material away.  He let his lips fall on the soft fullness of one breast, seeking and finding its taut peak.  Drawing it into his mouth he suckled it gently, but urgently.  The strong, steady beat of her heart pumped beneath his ear, intensifying the serenity and comfort he found in her … only her.  Long moments passed as he nursed solace from her.  Her sensitive fingers moved softly, surely over his back and shoulders, then sifted through his hair.  She quieted him with calm, loving strokes, offering silent refuge for his troubled spirit.

With her gentle, prepotent touch, what Buffy had tried to make him see all along suddenly seared itself into Angel with a crystalline clarity.  He had wasted all of his yesterdays despairing of a past over which he never had any control.  Now he was wasting all his tomorrows doing the exact same thing.  All he had was today.  She was all there was, all there ever would be that he wanted, that he so desperately needed.  There was no doubt in his heart that it was the same for her.  They were so much a part of one another that each felt the other’s joy and pain as if it were their own.  His life was finally full of all that had been missing and now would never be lost.  Somewhere deep within he knew he and Buffy would always be together, they were one … forever.

His fears finally assuaged in the shelter of her affection, he lifted his face to hers.  “I love you, Buffy,” he told her in a strained whisper, “I love you so much.”

He was so beautiful to her.  Tears glistened in her eyes at his declaration and he leaned in to kiss them away before they fell.  She felt the peace as it flowed into him, saw it mirrored in his eyes.  His whole body relaxed as the ever-present tension dwindled and at last ebbed away.  He threaded his fingers through her hair as he covered her face with soft, solemn kisses, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose.  Brushing his lips against hers, his tongue swept across them in tiny licks, then gently pushed, seeking its way into her mouth.  Her lips parted with another sigh as he plunged his tongue deeply inside, savoring the sweetness only she possessed.  She kissed him back, her tongue melding with his in a slow sensuous dance.

Angel pulled her flush against him, tightening his arms around her as their kisses deepened.  He reached up with his hands, burying them in the lush fullness of her silken locks, twisting the soft tendrils around his fingers.  His tenderness slowly changed to passion, comfort giving way to desire.  His lips and tongue moved to take in more of her supple flesh, slowly kissing and feasting on every exquisite inch.  The soft moan of pleasure from his mate heightened his own and spurred him on to give her more.  He missed nothing in his quest to find every precious, luscious morsel of her.  Biting softly on her earlobe, gently sucking on the sensitive skin behind it, he moved down to her throat, nibbling and nipping lightly.  His hold loosened as he leaned back to soak in the sight of her.  She was breathtaking in the firelight.  Her skin now glowed not from the heat of the fire, but from his touch.  Her lips were swollen and red from his kisses.  Her long, golden tresses shone like satin.

Buffy laid her hands to his chest, splaying her fingers on its broad expanse.  “I love you,” she said in a soft, low breath, making him throb at the sound of her voice.  Gently, she peeled his shirt down his arms until he shrugged out of it and tossed it on the floor.  She smoothed her hands over the planes and contours of his chest and shoulders, in long, luxurious strokes, now meant to inflame rather than calm.  Every slight movement of her fingers against his skin caused his muscles to jump in response.  Her lips grazed lingeringly across his chest until they latched onto a nipple.  She bit down lightly and Angel released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in a ragged pant.  She drew a line of flame with her tongue from his neck, to his abs, then down his long, lean torso.  Her lips curved in a smile, feeling the tremors her touch caused rippling through him.  But when she moved her hand below his waistline, he gently caught it, bringing it to his lips.

Holding her gaze he told her haltingly, “There were so many nights … I would wake up … and find you sitting right here.  But when I reached for you … you were gone.”  Silencing her before she could speak by laying two fingers from his other hand against her lips he continued, “Tonight you’re here, really here.  You’ve tried to tell me, but this finally made me understand.  Whatever is going to happen will happen.  We can’t know, Buffy.  No one can.  That’s just the deal.  We have to take each moment we find.”

“But – ” Buffy tried to reply under the gentle fingers.

But if you don’t stop now,” he said smiling at the hand he held captive, “I won’t be able to show you what it all means to me.”

She stared down at the hand holding hers, then back up, the corners of her mouth turning up in warm invitation, “Show me, Angel,” she whispered.

The shirt she wore, his by rights, fell away at his touch.  He moved slowly from shoulder to shoulder, showering a new rain of kisses on the tempting skin, coveting more delectable tastes of her succulent golden flesh.  Angel released her enough to settle once more over her breasts, but to give rather than take.  His lips caressed the plush mounds, building her desire, carefully listening to her breathing as a guide.  His tongue drew patterns of love, as he licked and sucked the velvet pillows in ever-closer circles to her nipples.  As she arched against him, he finally captured one rosy tip, scraping his teeth across it, then pulling it into his mouth.  He felt her breath catch and he moved to claim the other, while his hand gently caressed the first, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

The fingers of his other hand pulled the throw away and trailed a deliberately slow, blazing path down her torso, dragging sensuously over her belly.  His tongue moved slowly, giving taunting flicks of attention to her breasts, drifting down in a sultry path over and around her stomach to her naval, letting it linger briefly as he shifted her lower body forward, lying her back against the cushions.  As he looped his thumbs through the waistband of her panties, she lifted her hips in response, allowing him to pull the wisp of fabric down and off her slim legs.  His lips followed his hands, leaving open-mouthed kisses of adoration in their wake.

Leaving a delicate tracery of lust as it continued its journey to the soft cleft hidden between her thighs, his tongue dipped in as she parted her legs to give him entry.  Ever so lightly he caressed the moist, pink flesh in languid strokes, imbibing her essence, relishing it, as it flowed from her center.  She cried out loud as his tongue delved deeply into her innermost sanctuary and he held her hips tightly as he lovingly ravished her.  He felt the groan that shuddered through her frame as small hands circled his neck, pulling him closer.  Smiling against her glistening curls, he gifted her with gentle kisses in every feminine fold.  He nibbled on the rich banquet with tender bites as he swirled his tongue to catch her intoxicating honey.  His lips finally settled on the nub nestled above, plump and hard from his ardent labors of love.  Closing around it with tender lips, he sucked it gently into his mouth.  Angel heard her gasp and felt the tight bud swell even more.  He teased it with his tongue, flicking it with minute strokes, until he sensed her approaching climax.

She whimpered as Angel tore himself away, standing up only long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes, then dropped back down before her.  His lips caught hers, sharing the taste of her as their tongues mingled together.  Her hand found his rigid flesh and closed around it, eliciting a deep guttural moan from him.  They moved as one, lifting, as she guided him inside her.  She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, his large hands pulling her hips to him until no space remained between them.  He penetrated her scalding depths to the hilt.

They both gasped, reveling in the feeling of completion this most intimate expression of love unceasingly gave them.  The so-familiar charge of energy generated by their touch hummed through them.  Hearts and souls merged with their bodies.  To Angel this would always be home, and to Buffy where she always belonged.  The same loving balm she poured over him in every glance, every word and touch, sheathed Angel as absolutely as the walls that held him deep inside her.  The profound love Buffy felt in his arms, saw in the glowing depths of his eyes and heard in the rich, cadence of his voice, pierced her heart as deeply as he was buried within her molten core.

He tried to go slowly, his movements angled to bestow on her every nuance of pleasure he could give her.  He drank in her moans of elation, doing everything in his power to bring her higher.  Her hands roved over the warm flesh of his back and shoulders, sliding into his hair, then down his neck to his chest, her touch tingling his skin.  Fingernails bit into his arms as her soft, keening wail sounded in his ear.  Her muscles contracted and massaged his sex as he tried to maintain a steady, rhythm.  But the heat and passion he found in the stormy recesses of her eyes, caused him to lose control, streaking a bolt of lust and love like lightening from his heart to his groin.  He thrust into her in ever quickening strokes, deeper and harder, until he touched the mouth of her womb.

The power of their love surged through every cell, rising higher with each caress, each tender whisper.  Every nerve and muscle pulsed in a rising crescendo of rapture until they were swept over the edge, his seed spilling into her as she climaxed.  They whirled together in an achingly sweet ecstasy that melted into a haven of bliss.

When he finally opened his eyes Angel found he was on the floor in front of the chair with Buffy snug in his lap.  He had fallen back on the rug, bringing her with him.  Silencing her mewl of protest with a gentle kiss, he withdrew from her.  He slowly got to his feet, carefully holding her close, not willing to let her go even for that brief moment.  Padding softly to their room, he gently laid her on the bed, crawling in beside her.  She tugged the sheet and comforter up over them as he spooned in behind her, drawing her closely against his chest.

A smile crept across Buffy’s face only moments later as she felt the measured puffs Angel was breathing into her hair.  He was curled around her, sound asleep, his powerful body finally at ease.  Nothing disturbed the deep silence, but the soft sounds of his serene slumber.  It was music to her ears.  There was still a long way to go, but they would go together.  She snuggled into her husband's unconscious embrace and joined him in his dreams.
 

~Finis~
 

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