Her dad had waited in the car, intending to follow her home in case her car still had issues. Consequently, she and Angel didn't have an opportunity for anything more meaningful than a peck on the lips. For the life of her, Buffy couldn't figure out what his problem was, but there would be time enough after the dance to figure it out.

She looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She looked good. There had been a good deal of debate about whether or not she should wear a costume to the Halloween dance. The three previous years, she'd always gone as part of an ensemble. But this year, being on the outs with the Cordettes and the fact that Angel was actually working the dance, she was on her own. She'd almost talked herself into not wearing a costume, but then a quick stop by one of the downtown shops changed her mind.

The dress was gorgeous. In it, she felt like a fairy princess. She wasn't really sure about the long, dark wig, but when she tried it all on together, it gave her an exotic appeal that she couldn't wait to test on Angel. He still didn't know she was dressing up. One last wiggle to increase the amount of visible cleavage and she grabbed Angel's jacket from the foot of her bed, heading out the door.

Angel sat in the Espresso Pump and hid in the corner with a cup of black coffee. He told himself he was there to avoid his father before the dance, but he knew that wasn't the real reason he was there. He was brooding and he had to be somewhere where he wouldn't run into people he knew to do it. He felt strange sitting there, surrounded by people who he never would have associated with before he became involved with Buffy.

Buffy.

He groaned and closed his eyes, inhaling the steam wafting from his cup. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she asked him why he was so shifty. He couldn't even think about her without his heart pounding, let alone look at her.

A pretty female voice crooned through the speaker behind him and as much as he tried to ignore the alternative girly lyrics, he found himself listening. So you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts, the woman sang lightly. What's so amazing about really deep thoughts. Angel took a sip of his coffee and enjoyed the bitter taste of the superior brew. The song really wasn't half bad. Boy, you best pray that I bleed real soon. How's that thought for ya?

Angel jerked and response to the last two lines and cursed when the coffee splattered all over the table in front of him. Boy, you best pray that I bleed real soon. How's that thought for ya? echoed in his mind. On second thought, he hated the song.

And coffee was a horrible, horrible idea. What he needed was a much stronger, more intense drink. If he wasn't due at the Bronze in ten minutes, he'd already be drowning in something pilfered from his dad's supply in the back of the bar. He groaned, wiped off the table with a wad of napkins and cursed again.

It took Buffy a while to find Willow. She almost jumped out of her skin when the chipper little ghost said hello. They fell in step, chatting as they headed to the table Willow claimed earlier. Buffy perched on the edge of her seat. She couldn't help but grin as she watched the guys on stage. Angel wasn't wearing a shirt, which was just fine by her. His arms, god she loved his arms.

Willow waving to someone caught Buffy's attention and she followed her friend's line of sight. Buffy smiled at her father, who was dressed like a magician, and waved happily. She loved him. He was the bestest dad in the whole wide world. But right now, she was really wishing that he had some job that required him to travel. A lot. To foreign countries.

As usual, the turnout at the dance was really good. There simply wasn't anything else for the students of Sunnydale High to do. It being Halloween, a lot of people were in costumes. Personally, Buffy felt that Cordy would have been more subtle just screaming "look at my tits", than she was wearing that catsuit. But even Cordy's amply displayed cleavage wasn't enough to ruin Buffy's night.

When Devon announced a set break and Angel didn't immediately seek her out, she realized he hadn't seen her yet. With a coy grin on her face, she followed Willow to the corner where Angel and Oz were talking. They were debating about what sort of amps would clear up their sound and although Oz was nearly expressionless as usual, Buffy got the idea that it was a really serious musician discussion.

"Hey," Willow announced, scooting close to Oz's side. She was very nervous about the costume Buffy had talked her into but the amorous stares the redhead was getting Buffy decided it was a good thing. Oz looked like he was about to swallow his tongue when he looked in Will's direction. It had taken her quite a while to reveal her real and somewhat daring little costume underneath the boo-ware.

Buffy waited for Angel's assessment nervously. "Hello, kind sir," Buffy said, sweeping into a graceful curtsey she knew gave Angel a juicy display of cleavage.

"Wow," Angel said, raking his eyes over her. He searched the club to find that Giles was occupied in talking to another chaperone, so he kissed her quickly. "You look beautiful," he whispered against her lips. He intended to pull back right away but she pressed close to him and pressed her lips against his harder, snaking her tongue between his lips. He pulled away as soon as he could break the kiss and stepped back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, searching his eyes.

"You're father's here," he answered, nodding in Giles' direction. "I don't want him to see us making out, alright?"

"I'll just tell him we're dating then," Buffy said. She pivoted in her dress, secretly loving the way it billowed out around her, and headed toward her father.

"No!" Angel nearly shouted. He pulled her back against him. "No. Don't tell him. Don't tell him anything."

"Okay, you're power freaked here," she said. He had the look of crazed animal in his eyes and she was pretty sure it didn't have to do with telling her father they were dating. "What's really going on, Angel?"

"Nothing," he said, swallowing harshly. "I'm fine. I just don't want to tell Giles tonight, alright? Let's save it for a different day."

Angel was acting so weird that it partially soured Buffy's good mood. But she perked up when her father agreed to let her spend the night at Willow's house. Several minutes later, Willow was barely able to contain her grin as she whispered to Buffy that her mother had agreed to let her stay at Buffy's house.

"This is so scandalous," Willow whispered. "I never would have dared this."

"What?" Buffy scoffed. "A round robin? That's in the high school manual somewhere. Rule number fifteen I think. When in need of all night party, round robin. It hasn't failed me yet."

Willow grinned. "It's so exciting," she said giddily. "I've never been able to go to one of the after hours parties before. And Oz is always so tight lipped about them. I mean, I don't worry about him going without me, but I am interested."

Angel cursed as he dropped the symbol, but Oz managed to catch it before it clattered to the ground. "Thanks, man," he said, relieved to have some help.

"No problem," Oz countered, opening the back doors of the van so they could load the drum kit inside. "Hey," he said, "Willow just caught me. I guess the after party has been moved. Something about Rudy's parents showing up unexpectedly."

"Damn," Angel cursed, setting the drum down. "That's our standard venue. Where are we supposed to go?"

Oz shrugged. "I guess Buffy knew of some place. She says that it's where the rich kids used to party before Cordelia's parents moved her out to their pool house. Apparently it doesn't get used anymore."

Angel's brow furrowed. Buffy had never mentioned this place to him. "Where?"

"That old mansion out on Crawford Street. Buffy and Will already took off to make sure it was still useable. Everyone's supposed to meet there later."

Angel let out a low whistle as he followed Oz inside the mansion. Since they had to break down all the equipment after the dance, they were late to the party. There were already at least fifty cars on the lawn out front. Angel had seen this place before, but never up close. It was damn impressive. There was no electricity, but necessity is ever the mother of invention. There were torches and candles everywhere, giving the space an oddly gothic feel. Someone had brought in a stereo with a really long extension cord that ran god only knew where. Music was blaring and there were people everywhere, dancing, drinking, kissing, all of the above. Angel looked around, but Buffy was nowhere to be seen.

Oz let out a grunt as Willow launched herself into his arms giggling. Angel turned away in a vain attempt to give the couple a little privacy. Devon walked by and handed him a beer that Angel immediately opened and half-drained. He turned as Willow tapped him on the shoulder. She cocked a finger at him and Angel looked to Oz for information. Oz merely shrugged. Curious, Angel followed Willow through the cavernous living room and around a corner to a back staircase.

"Third floor," she whispered. "Second door on the left."

Willow bounded off and Angel finished his beer before climbing the steps. It was really dark and he took out his Zippo to offer some light. He found the appointed doorway and gave a terse knock before pushing it open.

He stood in the doorway, unable to move. Unfortunately, the Zippo burned his finger and he dropped it. Sheepishly, he picked it up and returned it to his pocket. He stepped into the room, closing and locking the door behind himself.

Innumerable candles burned in the room, filling it with a soft, flickering light. The bedroom was enormous, but that wasn't half as impressive as the bed. It looked like you could fit a dozen people on it. Of course, there weren't a dozen people on it. There was just one, Buffy.

"Rudy's parents didn't come home, did they?" he asked. He was surprised at how hoarsely his voice came out even though all the blood in his body was rushing toward his groin. Buffy lounged across the giant bed in a red silk teddy that framed her curves gorgeously. He found himself gulping for air.

"No," she answered coyly, running a hand over her body as she stalked him with her eyes. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Worked," he grunted. He still hadn't bothered to put on a shirt and she enjoyed watching his approach. The candlelight played beautifully across his naked upper body and she greedily took in every detail.

"I wanted to have you to myself without worrying that we'd get caught," she said, wrapping her arms around him as he crouched over her. "I wanted to hold you and know that whatever's bothering you…I wanted to be sure that…." She tapered off and looked up at him. Her face showed absolute trust and love, a look that would break any man. "You're not all wiggy just because of my Dad, are you, Angel?"

Much to her surprise, he let out a groan and buried his face in her neck. His voice was muffled when he spoke again. "I fucked up." He was silent for a moment, focusing on her arms around him, the feel of her fingertips brushing against his skin, then he looked up at her face. "I realize when I was taking advantage of our supply closet time the other day that we hadn't used any, you know, protection. For all we know, you could be pregnant with my child right now, Buffy."

"What if I was?" she asked, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice. She had thought of it recently as well, but she trusted Angel. She knew that if they were doing something wrong, he would make sure she was okay. She was certain of it when the fleeting thought passed through her mind. Now, with the desperation filling the air, she was worried. She didn't want to doubt his feelings for her. The last thing she wanted to do what doubt him.

"I will always take care of you," he whispered, keeping his gaze locked directly with hers. He caressed her cheek with a shaky hand. Despite his nervousness, she saw truth and devotion there. "I'll never let anything bad happen to you if I can avoid it, Buffy. You know that I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his. "If I am late this month, I'll get a test, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, taking a deep trembling breath. Much to his surprise, she nudged him to roll over on his back and straddled him, rubbing her groin against his seductively.

"In the meantime," she said throatily, "I was hopin' you could help me out of this little outfit. These things are so complicated." She smiled deviously at him, idly touching the lacey edge of the teddy, and he growled in response. He pulled her down for a long, lingering kiss and moaned as his hands moved over her body. Moments later, she realized in the middle of their heated kiss that his hands were on her bare breasts. So much for complicated. Of course, he also had a lot of training. You couldn't take as many shop classes as he did without figuring out how to reverse engineer a good number of items. The fact that she could even think the phrase "reverse engineer" while his fingers were tweaking her nipples should have earned her a place in the Smart Blondes Hall of Fame.

He rolled them over again, pulling the teddy down her body. She wriggled free of the material, wrapping her bare legs around his waist. He kissed her while digging in his back pocket for his wallet. He finally wrapped his fingers around it and slapped it down on the pillow next to Buffy's head. She couldn't help but giggle at the look of absolute concentration on his face while he used one hand to try and root through the wallet. The other, of course, was busy tweaking her breast.

After far too long, he finally found the condom. He grasped it between his teeth as he rolled onto one hip, kicking off his shoes and hurriedly shimmying out of his jeans. Buffy laughed again and plucked the condom from his bite. He looked at her and she motioned for her now naked Angel to roll onto his back. If there was ever an instance where he was inclined to humor her, this was it. "You think I need help with this?" he asked, trying not to smile.

She frowned down at him. "I need the practice," she said coyly. Carefully, she tore the tin wrapper and extracted the condom. He groaned, arching into her touch as she grasped him, stroking him several times before positioning the latex over the head of his cock. Just like she remembered, she pinched the reservoir tip as she rolled the condom down his shaft. It was a tight fit. He was considerably larger than her last practice subject. She smiled with satisfaction of a job well done. "It's been a while," she said.

His smile disappeared in an instant. "A while?" he asked darkly.

She giggled. "Sex ed class last year," she explained. She looked at him, smiling in undiluted appreciation. "May I just say that you're much more interesting than a banana."

"Thank you," he said wryly.

"Besides," she said, "I noticed you weren't in class, as usual."

He snorted. "Baby, I'm a loser, not a moron. Trust me when I tell you that a sex ed class junior year would have been remedial education."

Her outraged smack never connected with his chest. Angel flipped them over again, pinning her under his body as he kissed her breathless. Whatever lingering irritation she felt at his cheeky comment quickly melted away. The way he kissed her, the way he touched her ... everything about his movements told her that she was the most precious thing in his world.

He hooked his hand under her knee, notching it around his waist as he carefully slid inside her. With the condom, the sensations weren't as sharp, but being inside Buffy was still the most glorious feeling he'd ever experienced. She moaned, her fingernails biting into the small of his back, urging him to drive into her harder. He obliged, planting his palms on either side of her head as he pushed himself up as far as he could. Bracing his knees and feet on the mattress, he thrust into her, his pelvis smacking sharply against hers.

Buffy's back arched, her eyes fluttering shut as she made a series of high trilling noises deep in her throat. Buffy beneath him, with her hair in a wild disarray, her nipples pebbled, perspiration glistening on her skin – Angel thought he might die from the sight alone. But then her internal muscles clenched around him and he knew he was wrong. Now he was going to die. With a groan, he dropped down over her again, capturing her lips against his own. She kissed him wildly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she rubbed her breasts against his chest.

"Love you," she panted out, raising her hips to meet his thrusts. Angel moved inside her, building her up again, wanting nothing more than to spend the whole night seeing her face in ecstasy. For some strange reason, before he came up here, he had actually been afraid she was pregnant, that he had ruined something between them – or possibly could. That was outside of her arms. Now, inside her embrace, he wondered how it ever seemed possible to be worried about some distant future. There was only the two of them forever. Wasn't that the whole point?

Buffy turned around when Willow walked through the French doors to join her in the sunken courtyard. The sun was just up and you could hear birds chirping madly in all the trees. Most of the house was eerily quiet, despite the large number of bodies. There had to be two dozen people passed out inside the mansion.

"Morning," Willow said, yawning loudly.

"Mrn'n," Buffy tried to reply around a mouthful of toothpaste. She spit into the dilapidated fountain and then took another mouthful from her bottle of Evian before spitting again. Willow looked longingly at her toothbrush, toothpaste and bottled water. Buffy smiled, holding up her backpack. "Shack bag," she said.

"Sha wha?"

"Shack bag," Buffy repeated. "If you're going to shack somewhere, you need supplies." She handed Willow the tube of toothpaste and bottle of water. Willow quickly squirted a dollop of Colgate onto her finger as Buffy brushed out her hair. By the time Willow moved onto the hairbrush, Buffy was using her Olay Daily Facial cloths to wash her face. Eventually, they moved over to one of the stone benches so Buffy could re-apply her makeup in natural light. Willow watched the beauty ritual with fascination but declined Buffy's offer to share.

"I didn't realize there was so much involved in staying out all night," Willow explained.

Buffy shrugged. "I've been doing this about once or twice a month since freshman year, you pick up some habits."

Willow's lips pursed together like she was trying to decide if she wanted to ask something or not. "So, uh, you do ... this ... a lot?"

Buffy looked at her seriously. "By this you mean ...?"

"Nothing," Willow chirped, obviously embarrassed.

Buffy shrugged nervously. "No. I mean, yes, I've stayed out all night lots of times, but never ... Uh. I've never stayed in one of the upstairs rooms before. Angel is my, uh, he's my ... "

Willow sighed in relief. "Oz is my ... "

They both laughed.

"Why exactly is he here?" Angel demanded, glaring at Oz.

Oz merely shrugged, glancing over at Devon who was seriously hung over and kept moaning. Normally it wouldn't have mattered, but they were all crammed into a booth at Denny's and Angel was getting sick of listening to him. He and Buffy had gotten the short straw, so Devon was in their side of the booth. His face was pressed against the fogged up window. Every few seconds, he moaned like a dying man.

"He's okay, Angel," Buffy said, giggling when he pulled her closer to his side. She had been stuck sitting in the middle of them and Angel growled every time Devon started to sway in her direction. Twice Devon had let out an embarrassing expletive loud enough to turn heads because Angel thumped his head on the window.

"This is so cool," Willow announced grinning happily. "We have morning together and afterglow…"

"And hung over people," Buffy added. She grinned and snuggled closer to Angel. "And Moons Over My Hammy." Angel gave her a look of disgust, but snagged a fry from her plate.

"Need a drink," Devon groaned. He started to slide across the bench seat and didn't stop when he reached Buffy. He just kept scooting until he was pressing against her. "It's the only way to make this all go away. Far, far away."

"Get off my girl, fucker," Angel growled, shoving him against the window for the third time.

"FUCK!" Devon groaned as his head beaned against the heavy plate glass.

"My hero," Buffy mock sighed dreamily. Willow burst into giggles.

Buffy sighed, looking up from her book in exasperation. She quickly glanced around the library. Thankfully, it was deserted. If there was any luck, her dad would be chatting with the computer teacher for a while. She turned, glaring at Angel. "I love you," she said firmly. "But if you don't stop hovering, I'm going to kill you."

He frowned at her. "I'm just ... "

"Paranoid," she finished for him. "Angel, look, you sitting here worrying about this isn't going to make it happen any faster. Okay for the next five minutes I'm going to ignore the major squick factor of discussing my girl problems with my boyfriend, but Aunt Flo isn't scheduled to show up until next week. There is no way for us to find out before then if we even have anything to be worried about. Okay?"

He leaned back in his chair glowering. Patience had never been one of his strong points and where Buffy was concerned, it was nearly non-existent. He was so worried he wasn't sleeping, barely eating and he was making Buffy crazy.

To keep himself from hovering over her every second, he picked up as many hours as possible at both the shop and the bar, hoping to keep his thoughts elsewhere. He begged off from band practice after he accidentally put a hole in his snare drum. He told them he had to buy another one but the truth was the only rhythm he wanted to know about was Buffy's menstruation.

The week dragged by with the sort of agonizing slowness one only reserved for extremely painful and embarrassing moments. His three lunches a week helping Giles out used to be a welcome time to get his homework done and have some peace and quiet. Now he jumped three feet if her father even said his name.

The following week, he met her at the stairs first thing Monday morning. If she had known he had been there since dawn streaked across the sky, she would have had a fit. He felt it unnecessary to share that little tidbit.

"How are you doing?" he asked, clutching her shoulders nervously. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Gods, Angel, I don't have cancer," she spat. "And I don't have my period either. Just calm down, alright? No one is dying here. You're making me insane."

He raked his hand through his hair, pacing in a rough circle. Sighing in exasperation, she grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the supply closet. Reluctantly, he let her pull him inside as she locked the door. She pinned him against the wall and attempted to press a kiss against his jaw.

Gently, but firmly, he caught her wrists and forced her to take a step backward. "Buffy, this isn't the time," he huffed.

Okay, that was it. She'd had all she could take. She yanked her wrists out of his grasp. Taking a step back, she cocked out one hip and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "We talked about this more than a week ago at the mansion," she said angrily. "I know you were worried, but we discussed things and I really thought we were okay. What gives? Why are you being all psycho about this again?"

He growled in frustration, banging his head back against the wall. "That was a week and a half ago," he replied sharply.

"And what exactly has happened in the last week and a half?" she demanded.

"You haven't bled, that's what's happened," he yelled.

Her head snapped back like he'd hit her and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "I see," she said thickly. "It's that terrifying is it?" He reached for her and she twisted away, her body language screaming for him to not touch her. "It's one thing for you to be all calm and loving about it when you're about to get laid, but in the harsh light of day I'm just another burden is that it?"

"Buffy," he groaned, balling his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her.

"No," she spat. "Fine. Have a nice life, Angel. I'll be fine. You don't have to worry about anything ever again."

He listened to the door slam, unable to move. Slowly, he leaned back against the wall and slid down it until he was a useless heap on the floor. He fucked up. He fucked up bad. Yes, he was terrified beyond belief at the thought of possibly getting Buffy pregnant. There were a million reasons for his terror: he knew he'd be a terrible father, Buffy deserved to have a life without being burdened with a child so young, Giles would kill him. It went on and on into infinity. But nowhere on that list was he terrified because he didn't love her or because he couldn't love their child.

Stiffly, he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't believe how bad he messed things up. Right now, Buffy needed his support. She had to be just as terrified as him, probably more, but she wasn't letting it make her bitter. She needed him and he wasn't there for her. With a growl, he punched his hand against the wall with as much strength as he could muster.

"Buffy, are you okay?" Willow asked gently. Buffy had asked her to meet her at her car in the parking lot right after school, but Willow had no idea why.

Buffy shrugged, trying not to start crying again. "I need your help," she said quietly.

"Anything," Willow said vehemently. She bit down on her bottom lip, looking at her friend. "Buffy, what happened?"

Buffy shrugged again and a tear slipped down her cheek. "Angel," she said, feeling idiotic. "I think maybe … " She swallowed thickly, willing herself not to start crying. "I think maybe we broke up this morning."

"Oh, Buffy," Willow gasped, pulling her friend into a tight hug.

Buffy clung to her friend, letting the tears she'd been holding back all day fall. It was several long minutes before she could compose herself. She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with a tissue. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I think he must be really mad. I haven't seen him all day, which means he's probably avoiding me."

Willow shook her head. "He wasn't here today, Buffy."

"No, he was," Buffy assured her.

"He was," Willow amended quickly, "but he left early. He was gone all day."

"Great," Buffy said, her face crumbling into a frown. "Now I've scared him completely off school."

"No, no, no," Willow said, patting her on the shoulder. "He was at the hospital."

Buffy's tears dried instantly. "Hospital?"

"Oz had to go get him at lunch and take him home. He broke his hand. I guess Angel wouldn't say how it happened, but Oz said it looked like he punched something hard. Like a wall."

Buffy sat in her car a long time after she sent Willow to find Oz. She wanted to know what had happened to Angel, but she couldn't stand the thought of being pushed away again. It crushed her when he did it in the supply closet that morning.

She dried her tears and restored her makeup before going to the convenience store for a pregnancy test. She hurried through the doors and down the aisles, causally picking up random things like cosmetics, toothpaste and shampoo. The reason for the trip was inevitable and she soon found herself standing in front of a small row of pregnancy tests. She looked around her suspiciously before tucking one into her arm full of items. Tears welled in her eyes before she even made it to the checkout counter.

As much as she wanted to ignore the truth, as much as she wished that her body would announce with her monthly cycle that they were worried for no reason, she knew in her heart that Angel was right. There was reason to worry. She was late and she was never ever late. The phrase "like clock work" was coined for Buffy Giles.

"Ah, Buffy, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Buffy stopped dead in her tracks, immediately putting her shopping bag behind her back. The last thing she needed was her father finding out she bought a pregnancy test. What was he doing home anyway? Okay, that was a bit harsh. He did live here, after all. But dammit, she needed some privacy. "Sure," she said, "just let me go change."

Fifteen minutes later, she joined her father in the living room where he was flipping through the mail. "What's the what?" she asked, sitting down in the large armchair.

He set down the mail, rearranging his glasses as he looked at her. "Well, Thanksgiving break is coming up and I had been thinking perhaps it would be a good opportunity for us to visit England."

Buffy stared at him blankly for a moment. "England?"

"Well, I know it's a bit sudden," he said, "but next year you'll be away at college and I thought this would be a nice time for us to go together. Plus, I found a discount on airline tickets."

She shrugged. It had been five or six years since they'd been back to visit her father's family. No doubt they were indeed due for another visit. Plus, right now things were so up in the air with Angel. It might be nice to get out of Sunnydale for a week. "Sounds good," she said.

Buffy was vainly trying to concentrate on her Chemistry homework when something hit her bedroom window. She looked up and saw another rock ping against the glass. Frowning, she walked over to the window, raising the blinds. She stared down at Angel.

She was caught between finding something to throw at him and letting him in. Much to his relief, she opened the window and walked away leaving him to his own devices. Seconds later, he made it through the window, broken hand and all, and headed directly over to her bed. He lowered himself to his knees before her. She caressed his injured hand.

"I heard about this," she said, caressing the cast lightly with her fingertips.

"Just one thing in a long line of personal fuck ups," he said bitterly. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. He hated what he saw there – uncertainty, fear, nervousness, the beginnings of tears not yet shed. "The worst thing I ever did was push you away," he said quietly. "You're not a burden, Buffy. I meant everything I said that night in the mansion. I love you and I will take care of you."

"You'll take care of me," she echoed. Tears made their way down her cheeks despite her attempts to keep them at bay. She swiped at them angrily. "What are you going to do send me child support checks, Angel?" Buffy choked out. "Take our kid to the ballgame every other month?"

"No," Angel said firmly, "I love you. Do you hear me? I love you with everything I have in me. Every penny I make and every minute of my time is for you for now until I'm dust. Is that clear enough?" He cupped her face in his hands. "If you're pregnant, if you're not pregnant – whatever – I will still love you just as much. I'm not going anywhere, Buffy, I promise."

Buffy threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. "I thought I lost you. I thought it was over."

"You can't lose me," he murmured gently. He held her so tightly against him that it was almost painful, but Buffy didn't say a word. Instead, she just clung to him and cried harder.

"I'm sorry, Angel," Buffy said, after both of them had calmed down. She held his broken hand in both of hers.

"It's my fault," he whispered, kissing her lips gently. Soberly, he added, "But, baby, if we don't take a pregnancy test soon, I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. I have to know before we can deal, okay?"

Buffy returned to her bedroom where Angel was pacing like a caged tiger. He looked at her expectantly, but her expression betrayed nothing. She handed him the little plastic stick and went to sit on her bed.

Angel looked at the stick in his hand. He read the directions on the package, so he knew what the result meant. He set the stick down on her dresser and once again dropped to his knees in front of her. With his good hand, he tugged on her wrist until she slid off the bed and into his lap.

"It could be wrong," she said, her voice muffled by the fact that her face was burrowed against his chest.

He held her tighter, taking a deep breath. "Do you think it's wrong?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Neither do I," he told her.

She looked up at him and he bent his head down, kissing her slowly. "I love you, Buffy," he said. "And our baby." She buried her face against his chest again.

"Oh, I'm going to England over Thanksgiving," she mumbled into his shirt.

"What?" he said. "It sounded like you said you were going to England."

She pulled away and looked up him. "I am. Dad already bought the tickets."

"Oh no. No way," he said, pulling them both to their feet. "You are not getting on a plane. It's not good for the baby. Forget it. Tell him you can't go."

"Just say no," she said dryly. "Just like that."

"Well…" he said in exasperation, "make something up."

She stared up at him, her brow furrowed. "Why are you upset about this?" she asked. "It's not like we're moving there. We leave on Wednesday and get back on Saturday."

He glowered.

"Angel?" she pled.

"I don't want you that far away," he groused. "Especially not now."

She smiled sappily at him. "You're worried about me," she said.

"Yeah, well, it's my prerogative," he grouched.

She shrugged, snuggling up against him again. "We could always just tell my dad I'm pregnant. He might let me stay home."

Angel groaned, burying his face in her hair. "Your dad is going to murder me."

Buffy sobered. "Actually, I don't have any idea what he's going to do. I mean, we haven't even told him that we're dating yet. That'll be a fun conversation. Hey, Dad, yeah, Angel and I are going out, and by the way you're going to be a grandfather. I don't think he'll take it well."

"I'm a dead man."

Buffy's brow furrowed as she approached the lunch table where Oz, Willow and Angel were sitting. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving and almost everyone was in a foul mood. They all just wanted a break from school for a while. But even that didn't explain Devon's angry form stomping away from the table.

She took a seat, setting down her tray carefully. "What's his problem?" she asked, nodding toward Devon.

"Josh didn't work out," Oz offered.

Buffy frowned. The Dingoes had been searching for a fill in drummer since Angel broke his hand. They still had another three weeks before his cast came off and they'd already had to cancel four gigs. If they didn't find a filler, they'd have to cancel another three. "I'm sorry," she said.

Angel looked at Buffy's lunch tray and then glared at her.

"What?" she asked self-consciously. Noticing that all she had was jello, she said, "My stomach didn't feel like hard food today. But hey, there's fruit in it."

Angel leaned in closer. "Those are marshmallows," he bit out. "And maybe a ... french fry?"

Buffy made a face, pushing the tray away from herself. "On second thought ... "

Giles had a bit more of a bounce to his step as he walked out of the teacher's lounge toward sixth period study hall where he would be substituting for the afternoon. Ms. Calendar, the school's new computer teacher was winsome and bright – something normally lacking Sunnydale High. He was thinking about asking her on a date when he returned from his trip to England with Buffy.

It seemed like everything was working out well. Buffy seemed more exuberant about life and school in general lately. She was a pleasure to be around. She seemed to have outgrown her more catty friends, which was something he was pleased with. He would much prefer she spend her time with Willow Rosenberg.

He was also delighted with his decision to spend the holiday in England. It was amusing and ironic that they would be going back across the sea for Thanksgiving. He dearly missed home and was looking forward to seeing the family he had left behind. They hadn't been back since Joyce passed away. It should make for a nice trip.

Lost in his own thoughts, he rounded the corner where Cordelia and Harmony, Buffy's friends, were chatting about something or other. Normally, he would have just passed by and paid them no mind, as they usually did to him, but he overheard his daughter's name. Casually, he slowed down his gait and cocked an ear in their direction.

"No way!" Harmony nearly shouted.

"Oh yeah," Cordelia said, nodding her dark head gravely, "You heard me right. Angel ‘The Loser' Roarke knocked up Buffy."

"Oh. My. God." Harmony said, leaning against the locker she was standing in front of. "Who would have ever thought she'd actually sink that low?"

"I know," Cordelia agreed. She opened her purse, found a small flip cell phone and immediately began dialing. "I have to call everyone I have ever met right now."

Angel leaned against the kitchen sink, staring down the trailer at the door to his dad's room. The place was a total wreck as usual. Dishes from the last three weeks were piled in the sink. There were beer cans and empty pizza boxes everywhere. Damn, he hated this place. He'd always hated this place, even though it had been home for almost as long as he could remember. The big house with the lawn and the swing set was nothing more than the most distant memory now.

He took a deep breath. This was his life. This was what he had to offer Buffy. He hung his head in shame. Even now, he was cutting school to do this. What kind of a father would he make? What kind of a husband? If he loved Buffy, he'd walk away from her. He'd spare her and their child the embarrassment of having him in their lives. But even as he thought it, he knew he could never do it. He loved Buffy more than he ever thought possible. And despite everything, he wanted this baby. He wanted to have a life with her.

Steeling his resolve, he headed for his Dad's room. It was a pigsty. The bed was unmade as usual. The sheets probably hadn't been changed in a year. Closet doors were missing and he could still see clothes hanging in there from his dad's previous four live-in girlfriends. None of them had stayed long. Why would they? His dad was nothing more than a washed up shell of a man, dead inside.

Angel made his way over to the closet, rummaging around on the top shelf. With one hand still in a cast, it took him far longer than necessary to accomplish such a simple task. Eventually he found what he was looking for.

He sat down on the corner of his dad's bed, holding the antique jewelry box in his lap. It was without a doubt the nicest thing in the entire trailer. It had belonged to his mother, passed down from her mother for generations. Angel ran his fingers lightly over the clasp. It was old and beautiful. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his mind to wander. He barely remembered her anymore. He had only the most fleeting impression, a memory of her voice, her smell. She had been so beautiful and gentle. They had been a family then. He remembered his parents being happy together. And then one day everything changed. Angel pushed the memory away.

He flipped open the box. There, nestled in the aging velvet was the silver Claddagh. It was tarnished with age, but still beautiful. His mother would have liked Buffy, Angel knew that in his heart. Very carefully, he removed the ring. Tonight he would ask Buffy to be his wife.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Angel's head snapped up and he looked at his father's enraged features. The larger man barreled into the room, grabbing Angel by his shirt and hauling him off the bed before he had time to react. "I said what the fuck do you think you're doing with her ring!" he bellowed.

Giles was far angrier than he ever remembered being since Buffy was born. He couldn't believe the gall of Angel, that miscreant touching his little girl! Did he think to get on his good side by shelving books and helping in the library? A fury raged over him and he found himself sitting stock still in study hall until the class was up.

At the end of the day, he drove home going exactly the speed limit and pulled into his driveway. He had decided he would sit down and calmly speak to his daughter like a civilized adult before he lost his temper. That, of course, was before he saw Angel's motorcycle in his driveway.

All his careful calming and reason flew out the window. He opened his car door and hurried into the house, leaving his beloved ancient leather briefcase on the seat. He had visions of Angel taking advantage of his daughter flashing before his eyes as he ran up the stairs, taking them two at time. Reaching the top of the stairs, he ran to the end of the hall and burst through the door without bothering to knock. He opened his mouth and a gasp came out.

"Oh dear Lord," Giles groaned, stepping inside.

Angel was beaten so badly Giles almost couldn't believe he had ridden his bike over. His injured hand was mangled and splashed with what appeared to be his own blood. His face was bruised and swollen, his lip split. His clothes were torn – more than normal – and he was bleeding freely from his temple and right arm.

Giles watched his daughter for a moment. She had looked up at him frantically when he came in but hadn't said a word. She was currently trying to tend to Angel's wounds but her hands were shaking so badly she wasn't get very much accomplished. After a few moments, she stopped and burst into tears.

"Shhh," Angel whispered, pulling her against him. "C'mere baby. It's alright."

Giles watched Angel gently comfort Buffy, mindless of his own wounds, intent only upon the emotional distress his condition was causing her. Quietly, Giles cleared his throat. Buffy managed to pull away from Angel and gave her father a questioning gaze.

"Buffy, please go get the first aid kit as well as a basin of water and a washcloth," Giles said quietly.

Nodding, Buffy pushed herself off the bed to comply. She was hugging herself tightly as she left the room, her clothes smeared with Angel's blood.

Carefully, Giles perched on the bed next to Angel. The young man slowly met his gaze, before his eyes flicked away shamefully. His voice was startlingly strong when he spoke, though his enunciation was significantly hindered by his split lip. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I'll leave, I just didn't know where else to go."

Giles frowned down at the young man he'd mentored for the last year and a half. "Angel, I know your home life isn't stellar, but certainly your father would - "

"My father did this to me," Angel said, cutting him off.

Giles didn't even know how to react to that. He had known that Angel's father was a mess. It was common knowledge among both students and staff at the school. But Giles had never dreamed that the man was so far gone. For him to brutalize his own son to this extent … Giles couldn't even finish the thought.

Buffy returned and together the two of them managed to remove Angel's shirt entirely. The bruising to his torso was extensive. Giles could clearly make out fist marks in several places. Angel sucked in his breath sharply when his ribs were touched, but never cried out. After they'd wiped away most of the blood, Giles discovered there were only two open wounds, one at Angel's temple and the one on his right arm. Neither was deep and thankfully, they would probably heal without scarring.

Giles shook his head as he took in the young man's sad condition. "Angel, you need to go to the hospital. Your hand needs to be re-cast and these ribs should be x-rayed at the very least."

"Please," Angel pled, "I'll be fine. Just give me a few more minutes and I'll be out of your hair."

"You most certainly will not," Giles said sharply. "You are not leaving this house under any condition unless it is to go to a hospital."

Angel and Buffy both stared at him blankly. With a huff, Giles rose to his feet and paced a tight circle in the small room. He stopped abruptly, pinning both of them with his gaze. "I heard a nasty bit of gossip today in the hall," he said. "It seems that the rumor mill believes Buffy to be pregnant with your child. I would like to know if this is true."

Buffy's cheeks flamed in embarrassment and she found herself unable to look at her father. Angel carefully grasped her hand, twining his fingers through hers before squeezing gently. He looked at Giles. "It's true," he said firmly. "We've been trying to find the right time to tell you."

Giles groaned, sitting down heavily in Buffy's desk chair.

"I love her," Angel continued. "I will do everything in my power to support her and the baby in any way I can."

Removing his glasses, Giles polished them feverishly. "I suspected something was transpiring between the two of you," he said. "But I never dreamed it had gone this far." With brisk movements, he replaced the glasses on his face. "Well, this changes things significantly," he said. He stood again, heading for the door. "I'll be back. You are still not permitted to go anywhere."

Buffy watched, dumbfounded, as her father left her room, pulling the door shut behind himself. She had no idea what was going on. Shaking off her confusion, she turned back to Angel. Tears pricked her eyes again. He looked so terrible, all swollen and bruised. She touched his face lightly with the tips of her fingers. "Angel, you have to call the cops," she said. "He can't get away with this."

Angel shrugged, looking away.

"Are you listening to me?" Buffy pressed. "Angel, something has to be done about him."

"Baby, just leave it alone," he said wearily. "I'm not going to call the cops."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "Do you want to look in the mirror? How can you just let him do that to you?"

"He has his own punishment," Angel said quietly.

"Nothing makes up for what he did - "

"He's miserable," Angel said shortly, cutting her off. "There's nothing left inside him. Nothing but rage and pain. I can't do anything to him that will be worse that what he's already in."

Buffy shook her head, clearly not understanding. Gently, Angel reached up and wiped away her tears. He took a deep breath. "My dad was always a loser. Wrong side of the tracks, police record, you name it, he'd done it. My mom was … She was great. Pretty, smart, from a really nice family. For whatever impossible reason, she loved my dad. He turned his life around for her, made something out of himself. He went to college, got a degree. He was working in a bank somewhere, saving up money for his own motorcycle shop some day. We all lived in this really nice house. And then … "

Buffy sniffled, listening intently. Angel had always brushed off her questions about his family.

"She died," Angel said flatly. "I don't really remember it. I was only four or five at the time. I just remember her being gone. And then nothing was ever the same. My dad just broke. And he never healed. He loved her so much. And when she died, he died with her."

Buffy cupped his cheek, tears streaming down her face. Angel smiled tightly at her. "He lost everything, the job, the house. We moved to Sunnydale. It was years before my mom's parents finally tracked us down. They took me away from him, took me home to their house. But by then, I was a lost cause too. I didn't have any idea how to behave in a real family. I got in tons of trouble, stole from them, disrespected them. They tried for a really long time, but I wasn't worth saving. They finally shipped me back to my dad. We've been like this ever since."

"Angel, you're worth saving," she said softly, her bottom lip quivering.

He smiled up at her again, this time softer. "I never believed that before I met you."

She was sobbing, torn between wanting to throw herself into his arms and not wanting to cause him further physical pain.

"What happened today - "Angel started to explain. "I went through some of my mom's old things. I found a ring she used to have because I wanted to give it to you. He caught me with her things and he just came unhinged."

"Angel," Buffy sobbed, horrified that this all happened because he wanted to give her something of his mother's.

"I can't hate him," Angel said. "I used to. I used to hate him more than anything. But now … " He gently rubbed Buffy's fingers between his own. "I can't hate him, Buffy, because if something ever happened to you, I'd end up exactly the same way."

Giles cleared his throat from the doorway and stepped in. He looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment and then took off his glasses. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and polished them furiously.

"Right then," Giles began awkwardly. "I moved Buffy's old twin bed into the basement and you should be fairly comfortable down there, Angel. I put linens on it and an extra blanket. The basement tends to be on the chilly side."

Both Buffy and Angel opened their mouths to speak, but neither allowed a syllable out when Giles glared in their direction. This was not a time to argue or question.

"Now," Giles continued, "Angel, we will take you to the hospital and have x-rays taken. You most certainly have a broken rib. You are welcome to stay in this house for here on out. Although you and Buffy have undoubtedly already had…er, relations, I will not find you in her bedroom at any time. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Angel managed to choke out. He swallowed harshly and risked a glance at Buffy. She was just as stunned as he. "Thank you," Angel added gratefully.

"I've contacted an associate to gather your belongings," Giles added. "He will be coming by later this evening to deliver them."

"Mr. Giles, I really appreciate all you're doing for me, but I don't think it would be a good idea to send anyone to see my father-"

"It's taken care of, Angel," Giles repeated firmly. "I trust you will take care of my daughter with the same respect. She is the most precious thing in my life."

"I love her," Angel said clearly, clasping Buffy's hand in his.

Angel did in fact have three broken ribs, a concussion and several minor contusions. Considering the beating he took from his father and the fact that his hand was already broken, he thought he came out of the situation in pretty good form. Especially since Giles didn't try to kill him. He had expected nothing less.

He was strangely surprised that after his initial coolness, Buffy's father seemed to accept the situation with as much ease as humanly possible. He didn't appear angry or put out, even though he did, on occasion, have the tendency to glare.

When they got home again, it was after one in the morning, but a man was waiting inside the house. He stood in the dark with his hands clasped in front of him and on the floor at his feet was almost everything Angel owned. The man was tall and thin with a deep mesmerizing voice. Although he was pretty spooky, he didn't seem to be much of a threat to a man like Angel's father.

Giles stepped forward and shook the man's hand. "Thank you for your help."

"The balance between us is restored, Rupert Giles. Do not call upon me again," the man said in his hypnotic, deep tone.

"I shan't." Giles answered gravely. "Peace with you."

"And with you." The man smoothly made his way to the door and barely made a sound with each step. Yeah, "spooky" was definitely the way to describe him.

"The balance is restored?" Buffy echoed. "What did you do for him?"

"I introduced him to his wife." Giles said with a cocky smile. Unwilling to answer any of the questions about the strange man, he headed off to bed.

Jenny Calendar lounged against the library's front desk, watching Rupert Giles scurry around his office with sharp, hurried movements. In body language, it practically bellowed ‘Go Away!'. But Jenny had never been one to be deterred by something as mundane as a frazzled librarian. "I'm not leaving, Rupert," she called, "so you might as well come out here."

He stopped and she could see his shoulders slump in a sigh. Several moments later, his head poked out of the office. "Thank gods, it's you," he said wearily. "I was afraid it was Mrs. Mernickey again. I swear that woman would have had an enterprising career with the Soviet Secret Police."

"Well, what do you expect?" Jenny asked. She frowned. "Is it really true that Angel Roarke is living with your daughter?"

Giles bristled. "He is living in my basement. He is not living with my daughter."

"But your basement is part of your house and your daughter does live there, so technically, Angel Roarke is living with your daughter," Jenny pressed.

"Fine," Giles bit out. "He lives with my daughter. But I'm afraid it's not the sordid love den of adolescent passion that most of the office staff wants to make it out to be."

Jenny motioned him over to the table and took a seat across from him. She was quiet as he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So what did happen?" she asked quietly.

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses. "This can go no further," he said in warning. He took a deep breath. "Angel was badly beaten by his father."

Jenny sucked in a breath sharply. "I guess that explains why he's not here today."

Giles nodded. "He should be well enough to resume classes after the holiday, but I don't think it's an exaggeration to say the attack was vicious."

"So you took him in?" she asked cautiously.

"What else would you have me do, Jenny?" he demanded in exasperation.

She put her hands up in surrender. "You're right," she said. "Please continue."

"I'm afraid for once, the rumor mill is actually lagging." He took another weary breath. "Not only was Angel attacked by his own father and now living in my basement, but I'm afraid he's the father of my soon-to-be grandchild."

Jenny gaped at him for a moment. "Wow. Uh, congratulations I guess."

Giles stared at her, nonplussed. "I am not thrilled about the news, but there's little I can do about it now. Angel and Buffy are both eighteen and regardless of the fact that they're still in high school, they are both adults. While they're living under my roof, there are stringent guidelines I expect to be followed."

"But ... " Jenny prompted.

Giles expression softened. "But I do think that Angel is a good man. He can't be held responsible for the circumstances of his upbringing and I do honestly believe that he is trying. He wants to do right by Buffy. And having him living with his abusive father or in the back of a car or on some friend's couch is not going to put him on track to be a responsible father. He had enough obstacles as it is, I don't feel the need to add to them unnecessarily."

Jenny nodded. "So on a different note, I guess your holiday plans are shot."

Shrugging, Giles said, "Buffy is urging me to go without her, but I haven't decided yet."

The pain medication that was given would have kept Angel sleeping on the narrow bed in the basement for most of the day if Buffy hadn't woken him up. When he inhaled her sweet scent, he thought it was a dream until he opened his eyes. She sat perched on the end of the bed looking dazzlingly gorgeous as she always did. The first thought after that was to wince in pain. So he did.

"Are you okay?" she demanded. "Don't move. Do you want me to get you anything? Are you hungry? Angel?"

"Baby, calm down," he urged in a grunted whisper. "I'm fine. I just need a shower."

"Just need a shower?" Buffy huffed irritably. "Angel, you have a broken hand and three broken ribs. You need a nurse!"

Angel groaned as he dragged himself out of bed and headed for the door, bare foot and in black silk boxers. Despite his current physical condition, Buffy couldn't help but drool. He was just so yummy.

He turned and smirked at the door. "You can be the nurse if you find the right uniform," he said huskily and barely missed the pillow that she launched at him.

He trudged upstairs slowly and dug through the bags and boxes of his things for clothes to wear before making his way to the bathroom. He was overwhelmed by the idea of living with Buffy, being able to kiss her goodnight and see her in the morning. Even though he was living in the basement of their house, his living quarters were far more spacious and neat than his home with his father.

He couldn't help grinning as he stepped into the shower. Giles had one little corner with his solitary bottle of shampoo with leave in conditioner and bar of soap. The rest of the shower was overflowing with female things like colorful loofas and razors that suction cupped to the wall. He counted four different kinds of soap and a veritable cornucopia of shampoos, conditioners and various hair treatments. It was like being in a store.

He took his time, not overtaxing his sore muscles. The pain pill was great, but Angel knew if he wasn't cautious, he could do more harm than good. He'd cracked ribs before and they weren't fun.

He toweled off as best he could and dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. By the time he made his way downstairs, Buffy had fixed him a sandwich. He smiled at her. "You never told me you can cook," he said with a wink.

"Hey, if you think that's impressive, you should see me microwave a burrito," Buffy countered.

Angel feigned shock, taking a seat at the table. Buffy was picking at her own sandwich, leafing through a copy of Vogue. When he'd eaten as much as he could, Buffy cleared that table. "So," she asked, "what do you want to do this afternoon where we're home all alone while I'm on vacation and my father is stuck with an afternoon of teacher inservice?"

Angel chuckled at her, but sighed. "Honestly," he said, "I would like nothing more than to ravish you all afternoon, but I don't think I'm quite up to it yet."

Buffy was slightly disappointed, but she knew he needed his rest. She followed him back down to the basement, making sure he was comfortable. "You sleep," she said. "I'm going to go upstairs and sort through your boxes."

"Okay," he murmured sleepily, drifting off.

Buffy wouldn't have admitted it to her friends, but she liked the idea of taking care of Angel. Sure, she couldn't really cook, but making that sandwich for him was sort of fun in a Susy Homemaker kinda way.

She looked at the big pile of boxes and bags in the living room and frowned. There wasn't much there considering it was all of his earthly possessions. It would take a rental truck just to haul her stuff away, not counting her father's things. She was glad they had taken Angel away from that bastard he called a father. She smiled to herself. Angel would be a thousand times better at being a parent.

She began making piles of things and soon was surrounded by various stacks. Twenty minutes into unpacking and she already had a load of his laundry going. An hour into the event, she had called her father twice and had talked him into stopping to get a dresser on the way home and a list of various other odds and ends that she said, "Angel could not live without."

"Buffy," her father had said dryly, "I certainly think that Angel can live without an area rug."

"Are you going to make him live like an barbarian in the basement with cold feet in the morning?" she demanded in outrage. "Daddy, he could die of pneumonia!"

"Buffy, I seriously doubt-"

His disagreements launched Buffy into a ten minute tirade that made Giles feel guilty enough to buy every item she insisted upon. It wasn't until he loaded up the car that he realized he just spent a hefty sum of money for the lecher who impregnated his only daughter. The thought had him scowling at the way home.

Buffy, on the other hand, was not scowling. She was thrilled with the arrangements and hummed as she continued to sort through Angel's clothes and belongings, carting them down the stairs to where he slept. It wasn't until she ran through the pockets of the clothes she was going to throw away, which consisted of what he wore the previous night when battling with his father, that she noticed something in his pocket. She eased her hand in and sucked in a breath when she found an ornate silver ring.

Buffy bit down on her lip. This was the ring he had been going to give her, the ring that got him beaten to a bloody pulp. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

That's how she was when Giles entered the house several minutes later. She was sobbing in earnest and when he asked her what was wrong, she merely handed him the ring. Giles sobered as he looked down at the ring. It was a Claddagh. Giles had heard Angel tell Buffy that he and his father had ostensibly been fighting over the ring, but he hadn't elaborated beyond that point. And aside from pledging that he wouldn't desert Buffy or their child, Angel hadn't mentioned any sort of permanent situation. But this ring, this was permanent. This was an Irish wedding ring.

Giles looked down at his daughter who was still sobbing on the sofa. No doubt, her emotional outburst was intensified by hormones. Pregnancy hormones. Despite everything that had happened, it was in that moment that the gravity of the situation fully hit Rupert Giles.

"There, there," he said, absently patting his daughter on the head. He sighed. "I think I need a drink."

Giles decided that going away to England was a good idea. Leaving the children behind in the house alone seemed like an even better idea. It wasn't like Buffy could get any more pregnant. He didn't trust Angel to keep his hands off of Buffy while he was gone, but he knew he would keep her safe and protected if they were alone in the house.

He flew out early Wednesday morning and although he knew the jet lag from such a short trip would be considerable, he was excited about getting away. He needed some time to think about the situation and mull over how he was going to share the news with his family that he was going to be a grandfather.

Angel had been waiting for Giles to leave the house before dawn on Wednesday morning. He listened for footsteps and for the door to open and close. He snuck up the stairs and watched his car pull out of the driveway. He waited for a few minutes to make sure he wasn't coming back and then tiptoed up the stairs to Buffy's room.

"Angel," she murmured as he crawled in bed with her and spooned carefully around her body, making sure he didn't bump any of his damaged ribs. "Is he gone?"

"Mmmhmmm," he murmured. "It's just us now."

"You need to be sleeping," she said drowsily.

He sighed, cuddling closer as one hand slid under her nightshirt to cup a breast. He nuzzled against the nape of her neck. "M go'in back ta sleep," he murmured.

It was late morning when Buffy finally woke. She couldn't help but smile, nestled beneath the covers, all snug and warm with Angel. She sighed in contentment. But eventually contentment gave way to discomfort and she was forced to leave the bed to go to the bathroom. Buffy really hadn't given a whole lot of thought to being pregnant, at this phase it just didn't seem real. But little by little, junior was starting to make himself known. For example, Buffy had suddenly developed hamster bladder. Also, her breasts were so sore that it was a distraction. Thankfully she didn't have any morning sickness - yet. She'd read it could start with little or no warning. She really wasn't looking forward to that.

She was standing in the bathroom, looking at her still washboard flat tummy when Angel walked in, carefully wrapping her in his arms. He smiled at her in the mirror. "I think you have a while yet before you start showing," he offered, kissing her neck.

"Ha!" she countered with a snort. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who had trouble getting into the new Ralph Lauren pencil skirt yesterday morning. Angel," she whined, "I'm getting huge."

He looked at her in the mirror incredulously. He pulled her night shirt up again, studying her reflection in the mirror. "Obviously, you've gone insane," he said.

Buffy huffed, but turned around, leaning back against the vanity as she looked at him. "All right," she said, "strip."

Angel rolled his eyes, but very carefully removed his shirt.

Buffy winced. And paled. Good lord, he looked awful. Her fingers hovered over his bruises, but she dared not actually touch him. His ribs were a disgusting array of colors, green, black, yellow, purple.

"It's worse than it looks," he said, in an attempt to comfort her. "It's really not that bad."

"You're all broken," she complained. "I hope creepy guy kicked his ass."

Angel grunted in agreement. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower?"

"No, go ahead," she answered. Smiling wickedly, she pulled his sweat pants down around his ankles and helped him out of them. He was fairly disappointed, however, when she nudged him toward the shower without so much as a kiss or caress. She obviously hadn't played the same game of doctor and nurse that he was familiar with as a young adult.

He turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature and then stepped in, but as he was scrubbing shampoo into his hair, he was shocked to feel her slip in behind him. She reached up and massaged his scalp, slipping her fingers through his before guiding him under the spray.

"I think I was right before about you needing a nurse," she whispered. She lowered herself to her knees before him and caressed his already hardening shaft. "This looks like it needs some attention," she murmured and he groaned in agreement. He leaned against the wall and winced when he thrust his hips out too sharply into her hands.

She teased him mercilessly, laving long, languid licks along the underside of his shaft, before covering every inch with hot, openmouthed kisses. Angel was seconds from begging before she took her into her mouth, suckling just the tip. She moved shallowly at first and achingly slow, until he was making little whimpering sounds that caused her belly to clench in desire.

Without even planning it, she found herself engulfing more and more of him until she was almost taking all of him in. She caressed him with her hand as she pleased him, squeezing the base, stroking him and cupping his balls.

"Buffy," he hissed in pleasure. "Oh gods, that's good."

She pulled back. "Don't overtax yourself," she chided gently. Once again her mouth covered him, bobbing on his hard flesh. His hand played along her face, gently caressing her, urging her to continue. She didn't need a whole lot of coaxing, taking more and more of him on each pass. She could feel the muscles in his thighs tensing even more, hear his breathing becoming more erratic. She was more than prepared when his back finally arched and he spilled into her waiting mouth.

He slumped against the shower wall and Buffy played dutiful nursemaid, soaping up a washcloth and gently scrubbing as much of him as she could without causing him pain. She turned off the water as it started to turn cool and bade him wait while she retrieved towels. She attended him faithfully, drying him off before wrapping a towel around her head and then drying her own body.

It was a testament to Angel's exhaustion that he did nothing more taxing than watch her as she towel dried her hair, combed out her long locks and slathered every inch of that delectable skin with moisturizer. When she took his hand, he docily followed her back to the bedroom where they both shed their towels and once again climbed between the sheets. With their naked flesh pressed together, they both drifted back to sleep.

Angel and Buffy slept for the half the day cuddled in each other's arms as if they had been saving up their REM cycles for each other. Buffy enjoyed taking care of Angel while he was sick and he enjoyed it twice as much as she. He was sure he could spend all day watching her and began wondering what she was going to look like when her lithe body was heavy with his child.

On Thanksgiving morning, he woke up fairly early to find himself alone. He yawned and rose slowly from the bed, anxious to find out where his lover had run off. Shrugging on a worn pair of jeans that Buffy had left sitting on a chair in the corner of her bedroom, he shuffled toward the door. As he passed her dresser, he saw the Claddaugh sitting there.

He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. In all the excitement, he had nearly forgotten he hadn't yet given it to her. She had polished the tarnish from the old silver until it gleamed brightly. He was touched that she knew it was for her and yet had not put it on her finger. Smiling, he slipped it in his pocket and made his way downstairs.

Buffy was humming along with the radio in the kitchen surrounded by all sorts of food that had yet to be prepared. He leaned against the doorway and watched her bop around the kitchen in a baby t-shirt that showed off her still flat tummy and a pair of shorts that looked a bit snug. Her blonde hair was in a high ponytail that swung around with her movements. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She whirled around to open the refrigerator and caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Startled, she jumped and pressed a hand to her chest.

"Angel," she gasped, "you scared me."

"Sorry," he said, smiling, moving toward her for a kiss. "Morning beautiful."

"Morning," she whispered against his lips.

"What's all this?" he asked, gesturing toward all the food. He was amused that his pampered princess was apparently attempting to cook a meal.

"Thanksgiving dinner," she announced proudly. "I invited Oz and Willow over. They're bringing rolls and pies. I found one of my Mom's old cookbooks." She held up the tattered thing for him to see and then flipped through it, biting her lip. "I think I can do it," she said with uncertainty. "I mean I've seen it done before."

"I'm sure you can," he answered, chuckling. "If not, we'll have rolls and pies."

Buffy wasn't what you could call a slacker. When she put her mind to something, nothing could stop her. But Angel knew there was more to this than her natural impulse to excel. This looked like some strange manifestation of a nesting instinct. It stood to reason, he supposed, that the fact that she was pregnant would start weighing on her conscience, especially since her own mother had died when she was so young. Buffy hadn't had the year upon year of mimicking her mother's every move that most girls had. Joyce died when Buffy was eight, leaving her in the care of her devoted, loving father, but largely high and dry in terms of female guidance.

Considering everything, Buffy had done exceptionally well compensating for a lack of feminine direction. It also explained, to a large extent, why she had taken fashion and appearance so seriously. Buffy had been flying blind. She had been so terrified of someone figuring out that she didn't have a clue what she was doing, that she took it in the other extreme. No one was ever going to look at her and think her mother had failed her.

But the downside to these events was that Buffy hadn't had the years of idolizing her mother followed by years of doing everything she could to avoid becoming her mother. She hadn't had a chance to internalize all of Joyce's mannerisms and then throw them to the wind in favor of her own path. In short, to Buffy, Joyce was still a goddess in whose shadow she would forever linger. Joyce's memory was a holy thing, a perfect thing that could never be tarnished in Buffy's mind.

Which was why Buffy was about to have a nervous breakdown over something so trivial as making Thanksgiving Dinner for three of her peers whose own culinary skills were limited to Kraft Microwaveable Easy Mac, frozen pizza and the fine line of Hostess prepackaged desserts.

She read over the recipes carefully before preparing each item, reading over the cookbook with meticulous care. The ingredients were set before her carefully and each step memorized before vigilantly preparing the dish. She was determined for this first meal to be the best she ever prepared.

"Well, wow," Willow said, stepping into the kitchen with something akin to awe on her face. "I kinda thought you couldn't cook. I mean you just don't seem…the type."

"I wasn't," Buffy said, scooting a water glass slightly to the left. She stepped back and peered at the table once more before looking up at Willow and smiling brightly. "Now I am."

After Willow and Buffy set everything on the table in a festive display, Buffy wandered into the living room to retrieve Angel and Oz who were upholding their part of the Thanksgiving tradition by having beers and watching football. She startled when she noticed the newcomer.

"Oh, Buffy," Willow said, "this is Xander."

Buffy turned to look at her friend whose cheeks were flaming in embarrassment. Buffy quickly read the situation. Clearly, Xander had nowhere else to go. Buffy remembered Willow mentioning him before, they were best friends, but Buffy thought he lived in Oxnard. She put on her best hostess smile. "No problem, just let me set another place at the table. Nice to meet you, Xander."

He smiled a small, self-conscious smile. "Likewise," he replied.

Once Buffy and Willow were alone in the kitchen, Willow started chattering. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't realize Xander had shown up. He was supposed to call me if he was going to be able to make it."

"It's okay," Buffy assured her. "The more the merrier. Besides, you know, sort of the spirit of the holiday. Refugees on a foreign shore and all."

"And let's not forget the senseless decimation of the indigenous population," Willow added automatically.

Buffy rolled her eyes, she wasn't having this argument again. "What happened?"

Willow turned, making sure that Xander wasn't lurking within earshot. "His parents kicked him out," she said. "He's been staying with his Uncle Rory, but it's ... bad. I think he maybe staying with Oz for a while."

"It's fine, Willow," Buffy assured her again. "Any friend of yours I'm sure will be a friend of mine. And there's tons of food. It's all good."

Willow set an extra place at the table as Buffy filled the serving dishes. She took a moment to reflect. Even six months ago, Xander's arrival would have been a huge imposition. Buffy might have even shown him the door. But now? Knowing how similar his situation was to Angel's gave Buffy unending sympathy for Xander. There was no way she could turn him away.

Ten minutes later, they were all seated around the beautiful table. Angel held Buffy's hand. "It looks great," he said with genuine awe.

"Yeah," Xander added. "This is so much nicer than what my family usually throws together ... or at each other."

Hours later, after the food had been decimated, everything from the olives to the pumpkin pie, they were all collapsed in the living room. Buffy hated football, but she loved cuddling with Angel. And there was something so lovely about spending a holiday with him as a family that just seemed so right. She snuggled in and after a few minutes of snuggling and thinking about how wonderful the holiday had become, she was fast asleep.

Angel smiled down at her as she snuggled in and murmured sweetly in her sleep. While they finished watching the football game and cleaned up the dishes, she slept fitfully, worn out from rising at dawn and fretting over every single detail. He didn't wake her up when everyone finally left. He shifted their positions on the couch, wrapped himself around her and went to sleep.

On Friday morning, Angel woke up in Buffy's bed to the sound to violent retching. He flung himself out of bed and clenched his jaw in agony as his ribs protested to the movement. Ignoring the pain as much as he could, he ran to the bathroom and found Buffy throwing up. He grabbed a washcloth from the linen closet, tossed it in the sink and gathered her hair back from her face. He crouched behind her and rubbed her back soothingly. When she was finished, he rinsed the washrag out with cold water and wiped her face. He helped her to her feet and was stunned when she wrapped her arms around him and started to sob.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, running his hand over her bed tousled hair. "It's just morning sickness. You're okay."

"I-I k-know," she cried, hitching breaths and holding him more tightly. "It's just that n-no one's ever done that for me before."

"Done what for you?" he asked, tried to slide her back a little before she broke another of his ribs. When she wouldn't move, he gave up and rubbed her back again.

"Held my h-hair when I was sick," she explained pitifully. She sniffled. "That was so sweet."

He smiled down at her sappily. If it was this easy to please her, he'd be happy to do nothing with his life except wait on her hand and foot. Abruptly as the crying began, it stopped and Buffy pulled away, eyeing the shower. She smiled up at him. "Join me."

Like it was even a question.

Thirty minutes in the shower and a blow job later and Buffy shooed Angel back to the bedroom. He popped another pain pill and was half asleep by the time she finally re-entered the bedroom. Staring at her groggily, he noticed that she wasn't dressed, or rather, undressed, for crawling back into bed with him.

"Buffy?" he asked, taking in her designer outfit and flawless makeup. If he hadn't seen it himself, he would never guess she had been violently ill less than an hour earlier. She looked stunning.

She looked down at him, thrown by his apparent confusion. "You need to rest," she said seriously, threading her silver hoops through her pierced ears. "There's leftovers downstairs and I'll be home before nine."

"Nine p.m.?" he demanded, attempting to push himself up in bed until the shooting pain convinced him to lie still.

"Angel," she said patiently, "it's the day after Thanksgiving."

He shook his head, staring at her, clearly unable to follow her logic train.

"It's the biggest shopping day of the year," she explained, somewhat irritated that he didn't know something that was so clearly part of the human genetic memory.

He couldn't help it, he laughed. Oh, how he loved his Buffy. No matter how much she changed, she always stayed the same.

Angel cocked an eyebrow when he saw it was Oz knocking, but he stepped aside and allowed him to enter. Wordlessly, they both went into the kitchen and made heaping turkey sandwiches. They were at half time of the UC Bolder and Nebraska football game before Angel finally spoke.

"I thought you'd be hanging out with Willow."

Oz cocked an eyebrow. "Shopping."

Angel frowned. "Willow doesn't really strike me as the marathon shopping type."

"Not thinkin' she had much of a choice," he said blandly.

"Well, that's my girl," Angel explained, holding in a grin.

Oz turned back toward the game, took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "She's good for Will," he said, towards the end of halftime.

Angel grunted his agreement.

"Buffy," Willow hissed, turning as red as the negligee she was holding. "I can't, um, this is just too ... "

"Too?" Buffy prompted, grinning unrepentantly.

"It's just too too," Willow said triumphantly. "I'm just not a too kind of girl. I'm more of an oh or maybe a huh. Definitely not a too."

Buffy rolled her eyes, reaching behind her back to undo the clasp on her bra so she could try on the sexy black silk nightgown. It was gorgeous. And it was on sale. Two great tastes that taste great together. "Well," Buffy said absently, smoothing down the silk as she checked her butt in the mirror. There would be no point buying it if it made her butt look big. "You know the guys are hoping to tour a little next year."

"Yeah," Willow said cautiously.

"Devon was talking the other day about splitting the bill with Shy so they could save on costs. Which, I guess would mean that the skanky Veruca chick would be with Oz every day for what? A month?"

Willow's resolve face slid into place. She had no doubt that Oz was faithful to her, but it wasn't for lack of Veruca trying to steal him away. "So, you don't think the red will clash with my hair, do you?" she asked, pulling her shirt over her head.

Buffy and Willow strolled inside the house looking like they just stepped off the cover of Cosmopolitan. Normally, the day after Thanksgiving was ear marked solely for sales and shopping, but since Willow was being initiated into the world of high fashion, she had to be initiated correctly. It wasn't something a girl should do halfway.

Willow was dazed by what the day held. She also was proud at her ability to join Buffy in the world of the cool, yet still retain her own sense of self. Her clothes were funky and hip, her new lingerie was going to send Oz into a series of expressions but the biggest deal was her new hair. After debating with Buffy and the hair stylist for over an hour on what would be her perfect new look, she went with a choppy cut that made Veruca's razor job look like an accident in the bathroom.

When they stepped into the house loaded down with bags, they left them by the door and strolled into the living room to check on the guys. Buffy tried not to shudder when she saw that the room was nothing but plates and beer cans and empty bags of popcorn. Instead, she and Willow waited for the guys to look up from their movie. She watched Oz's face as he glanced up from the flickering screen and raked slowly over his girlfriend's body in one of her new outfits and then her new chic hair.

"Do you like?" she asked, spinning for him. She was so cute when she beamed at Oz like that. Buffy just wanted to hug her.

"Uh huh," he answered, rising from his chair immediately. "Angel. Gotta jam."

"Oooh," Willow squealed and then whispered to Buffy. "He really likes it. And did you see how he looked at me?"

"Mucho expression," Buffy nodded.

"Uh huh," she added excitedly. Willow's glow was contagious. Even if Buffy hadn't already been smiling, she would be grinning from ear to ear over the happiness on her friend's face. It was so refreshing to be shopping with someone who didn't pretend they knew every single item on the racks. Cordelia was great sticking her nose up at even the top designers. Willow, on the other hand, didn't even know the ten sacred rules of shopping and it didn't seem to matter.

When she closed the door, Buffy went back to the living room to find Angel cleaning up his and Oz's mess. She excitedly told him all about their day as if he cared that she got Versace on sale or not. What was exciting to him was how happy she was, how a day in a bunch of stores with Willow following her around was so much fun.

But Buffy's happiness did give him more than a moment of personal shame. He knew from her recounting how many items she had purchased, despite the fact that she had found them on sale, she had no doubt spent a great deal of money. Her father's money. Giles was already letting him live in the house, providing him with food and shelter, not to mention the myriad other items now sitting in the basement. Angel was supposed to be proving he could provide for Buffy and their child, yet all he could think was that he never would be able to foot the bill for one of Buffy's shopping sprees.

Buffy tried to take the dishes from his hands, but he shooed her away. Cleaning up the mess he'd made was the very least he could do. However, his need to be self-sufficient came out more like a brush off. As Buffy's bottom lip began to stick out in a pout, Angel relented, letting her carry a glass.

They walked into the kitchen together and began silently doing the dishes. Angel rinsed the dishes and Buffy loaded them into the dishwasher. They were finished before she finally found the courage to ask, "Are you mad at me?"

He pursed his lips together, ashamed that he'd given her that impression. "Of course not," he said quickly, "it's just … "

"Just?"

He took a deep breath, looking at her. "Today just reminded me that there's no way I could afford to keep you in the style to which you're accustomed," he admitted quietly.

Buffy frowned. She hadn't even stopped to think about what Angel's reaction might be. Of course he would look at it from that perspective. How could he not? He was one of the most conscientious souls she had ever met. It shamed her deeply. Why hadn't she considered Angel's reaction?

But the truth was, this was an annual ritual. She hadn't given any thought to it. She'd just taken Daddy's credit card like she did every year and went shopping. Angel was right, if they were going to build a life together, things were going to have to change, but how and when and where remained to be seen. "I guess there's a lot of things I haven't really considered," she said.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said. "I don't want you to ever have to deny yourself anything because of me. I don't want you to pull you down."

She looked up at him, practically gaping. "You're kidding, right?" she asked incredulously. "Angel, being with you is never compromising. You … The way you make me feel. No one has ever made me feel half as special as you do. No one ever could. I love you. Being with you could never drag me down."

He couldn't help but smile. Gods help him, but he needed to hear those words from her.

"But you're right," she continued. "If we're going to have some kind of life together, there's a lot we need to figure out. I mean, in theory I'm all for it, but I have to admit we haven't exactly discussed the specifics." She smiled up at him and quickly amended. "Not that they're deal breakers. I love you, Angel. I want to be with you no matter what. Nothing could ever change that."

He pulled her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the Claddagh. "You're right," he said in a near whisper. "There are some things we need to discuss."

Buffy squealed in delight as she held onto Angel. He took the bike slowly around turns to keep from hurting his already damaged ribs and Buffy was careful to hang on to his hips instead of wrapping her arms around him. The night was clear and warm and neither spoke, sensing the reverence of the occasion.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of town and he pulled his bike on the shoulder of the road near a patch of woods. Silently, he led Buffy between the trees until they reached the end of a cliff that cut off sharply. Down below she heard a river or stream, but she could barely make it out in the darkness.

"When I was younger, I would run away from the house," he said quietly, holding her hand. "All I wanted to do was escape my father, his alcohol and his women. Once I ran for so long I ended up here. I came back here a bunch of times. I used to pretend that she never died, you know? That we never left LA."

He was silent for a while, listening to the soft rush of the water moving below them. Buffy tipped her head back and stared at the million stars in a hushed awe. It was a beautiful place. Peaceful.

Angel lowered to one knee before her and took her hand. He kissed her fingertips lightly, brushing them across his lips.

"I know there's a right way to do this and this probably isn't it," Angel said, looking into her eyes in the dark. "I know you deserve so much more than I could ever give you but I can't imagine my life without you anymore and I don't want to. You are the most important person in my life and I love you more than I ever thought possible. I promise I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. Buffy Anne Giles, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

He held his breath as he waited for her answer. He had his mother's Claddaugh gripped between his fingers, poised to put on her finger or crush in his palm.

"Yes," she whispered softly. "I'll marry you, Angel."

He released a harsh, relieved breath and his hand shook as he slipped the ring on her finger. "This is a Claddaugh ring," he forced out. "It's an Irish wedding band. The crown stands for loyalty, the hands stand for friendship and the heart stands for love. Wear it with the heart pointing toward you," he said, tracing the top of the ring. "It means you belong to someone…like this."

He held up his hand and showed her that he too had a matching ring. She lowered herself to her knees in front of him and kissed the ring on his finger before kissing his lips, gently wrapping her arms around him.

"I love you so much, Angel," she whispered. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks and her voice was trembling as she spoke. "I wanna spend the rest of my life making you happy too."

It was very late when they finally made it home again. Angel imagined he could almost taste the approaching dawn even though the sky had yet to lighten. They had spent hours staring up at the night sky, holding each other, talking. They both discussed their desires to be good parents and their total lack of knowledge of how to accomplish such a feat. Buffy voiced her terror about never being able to live up to her mother's memory, Angel voiced his terror about repeating his own father's mistakes. But mostly, they just loved each other, telling private thoughts they had never before shared with another human being.

Angel felt like a new man as he stepped into the house. He had real hope for a future with Buffy. He still knew he'd never be good enough for her, but she wanted him and he wanted her. Together, they could make a life.

He was quiet, letting her lead him up to her bedroom. Angel should have felt guilty about it, but he didn't. Giles wasn't an idiot. He had to know there was no way Angel would be sleeping in the basement alone while his future father-in-law wasn't even on the continent.

But when Buffy slowly helped him undress and pushed him back in the pillows, he started hedging. "Buffy, trust me, I want to," he said, "but I just can't physically."

She smiled, looking down at his already rigid flesh. "Oh, I beg to differ," she said saucily.

He mock growled at her. "I didn't mean that part was unable," he said pointedly.

"Is this a guy thing?" she asked, pulling her shirt over her head and quickly shedding her bra. Angel watched, entranced as she skimmed her yoga pants down her legs and then stepped out of her panties as well. She crawled over him, straddling his hips.

She bit down on her lip and gently grasped his cock in her hand, stroking him from root to head. He groaned, his head flopping back in the pillows. "You don't always have to be in charge, you know," she whispered throatily. "You need your rest, Angel. You just lie there and let me worry about things."

He couldn't even speak, he just nodded frantically. She smiled down at him and positioned his cock at her luscious opening, sliding him into her with an aching slowness that had him hissing with pleasure. Angel felt like he was going to pass out from the sensation of being inside her again. He ran his hands over her curves, cupping her breasts finally and flicking his thumbs over her nipples. She arched her back and began a tantalizing rise and fall that was so slow he felt his thoughts unraveling. He wanted to pull her hips down hard over him and thrust up harder even though the act would probably injure him further.

"Aaannngel," she whimpered as he pulled her down harder over him and resisted the urge to rut like a wild animal. Her inner muscles tightened around him as she moved over him. Her back arched gracefully and she slightly pivoted her hips, taking all of his rigid sex inside of her.

Her long blonde locks hung, stroking her back in silky waves. Angel wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it. He urged her down over him until each stroke scraped her nipples against his chest. He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her desperately, sucking and biting at her lips.

"Harder, baby," he groaned, moving up against her. It hurt as much as it felt fantastic, but he was beyond caring. He needed to be one with her, completely inside her. It had been too long since he felt her silken channel with his own flesh and the decadent pleasure was stunning.

At his cue, she ground their bodies together only slightly harder, keeping them almost joined until they were both panting for release. Beads of sweat broke out on Angel's forehead as he struggled to keep with the torturous slow grind. He was nearing the edge of his control and he wanted to weep with relief when he felt the contractions of her sheath around his cock. She whimpered, climaxing around him and he let himself go, fading into oblivion with her.

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