Part 10

"You think he's dreaming?" Buffy asked Angel, as they were both watching their little son. They were lying on their bed, each from one side of the baby. He was asleep, had been for some time, but even though his eyes were closed and not even twitching, a small smile was playing across his lips.

"Possibly," the vampire mused, smiling himself. "We dream...why shouldn't he?"

Buffy glanced up at her boyfriend for just a moment, then returned her gaze to Connor. "He looks so happy. Must be one happy dream."

"It must be," he smiled, and brushed his index finger down Connor's cheek to the curve of his neck. "His dreams are innocent...they aren't like ours. Even our happiest dreams... They're too packed, they always mean too much, or we make them mean too much. Our dreams always seem to foretell something...we never know if the dream is truly sad or happy until that something transpires. He is just...dreaming."

Buffy looked up at him, though his eyes remained focused on the baby, and all relief and happiness left her for a moment, when something else crept in, something she couldn't even name...except that it was evil, it was fear, it lumped in her throat and caused icy shivers that initiated in her upper back and crawled into every cell of her body. But it was just for a moment, then it was gone.

"But he won't always be innocent...you know," her ears picked up Angel's voice again, and it sounded so far away at the beginning, as if he weren't lying right next to her, but they were separated by miles of infinity.

"He'll grow up," she found herself saying for some reason.

"He will." Angel agreed, the _expression on his face no longer serene, but apathetic. "He will...a lot sooner than you think, if you don't prevent if from happening. And then he'll know...he'll know everything. And he'll come back to even the score."

"Score?" she murmured inaudibly, and looked up at the vampire, whose eyes had been on her instead of Connor for a while already. "With me," he said. After a beat, his gaze wandered down to the smiling baby, then slowly back up, into Buffy's eyes. "You pay a price for happiness. Sometimes, it's a lot higher than you can endure...sometimes...it's just what you deserve. Mine will be both."

"Angel," she uttered his name softly, trying to work some sense into his words in her mind, but so far, unable to achieve that goal. She couldn't even begin to understand what he was talking about, everything was too much of a blur for her... "I don't..."

"You were wrong," a shade of rueful smile crept to his lips. "I-I was?..."

"The past...you can't bury it. You can't deny it, no matter what your present may look like. No matter if you know now what love is, what mercy is...it still can't erase the fact you once didn't. I...didn't."

"It wasn't you," she stroked his cheek with her palm.

"Not to some," he leaned into her touch, allowing himself a smile that was almost real. "Remember...I can't...I'll never let go. It'll come back, and it'll haunt me...us. If you're not careful, you'll pay the price, too."

The Slayer's eyes locked with his for another moment, as she was trying to read what was hidden in their bottomless depth but inexplicably couldn't find any reason in a place she had thought she was as familiar with as with the very palm of her hand. "I love you," she whispered, and closed her eyes, as she used her hand on his face to incline his head forward. Finally, her lips softly brushed over his, but instead of absorbing the familiar coolness and softness of them, all Buffy could feel was ashes. Her eyes flew open, just in time to see the remnants of what used to be her lover crumble to dust. Her breath caught in her throat and she was too in shock to move, to speak or even to breathe. Tears started pressing the back of her eyes, but she was unable to bring herself to let them out, regardless to how much it hurt. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her lips were on fire, and for a split second she felt all life leave her body. Someone pulled a stake back, when there was nothing left anymore, but she couldn't make out even the hand that held it. But her eyes locked with eyes, eyes she had never seen before; dark eyes, full of pain and anguish, but that anguish was corrupted with evil, driven by despair and blemished with vengeance. Still breathless but equally unaware, Buffy looked down at her son, who was now covered with his father's ashes, but still sleeping, and still smiling.

* * * * * *

The Slayer bolted up in her bed, filling her lungs with suddenly very needed air, then repeating the act several more times. Her eyes darted frantically about the room, but when the natural response finally kicked in and she instinctively turned to Angel, she discovered his side of the bed empty. Before it could overcome her, Buffy chased away another attack of claustrophobia and forced her mind into a clear state, using the opportunity to prove to herself what she'd seen was - whatever it meant - nothing more than a nightmare. She threw another glance at where her boyfriend should have been sleeping, more to make sure he really wasn't there than to look for him. Her mind couldn't stop for one moment to even ask herself *why* he wasn't there, all she could think about was how much she needed to touch him, if only for the final proof that nightmare wasn't real.

Buffy drew in another deep shaky breath, and combed her hands through her hair. After another moment, she threw the covers off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed, but when she tried to turn the nightlight on, she first acknowledged how much her hands were trembling, when she accidentally knocked several items from the nightstand to the floor before she even managed to reach the switch. She spent the next several seconds in futile attempts to regain control over her body, which not only ended in almost general disappointment, but also in a heart-wrenching sob that finally escaped her firmly sealed lips and as good as it felt to finally let it out, Buffy knew if she let out only one more, she would never be able to stop. Stifling another cry with one hand, she used the other to dry her eyes as much as was possible, pushed herself from the bed, and headed to Connor's crib, from where were coming muffled cries of a baby.

* * * * * *

"Hey, honey," she picked him up and hugged him, slightly rocking him, "you're hungry? You had a bad dream?" she freed one hand from around him to clear his tears, then inclined his face on her shoulder, cupping his head with her hand. "Mommy had a bad dream," she contemplated, as she neared the window to peek outside. No one was there, or no one that she could see, but she couldn't shake off the feeling someone was watching her. Maybe not even that very moment, but...watching her nonetheless. Watching Connor, and watching Angel...

She hadn't stopped thinking about the man Gunn had told her about. She couldn't bring herself to even suspect who he was, much less, why would he be spying on them. His motives were far from good, that much she could conclude from the mere fact he wouldn't be *spying*, if they were. It had been four days since then, four days in which Gunn was conveying her the complete report about the man's whereabouts near the hotel - where he was, when he was there, and more. She had never had the chance to see him for herself because she always seemed to be elsewhere when he appeared. She knew for certain he wasn't picking the time, she would have known, if someone had been following her that excessively to know when and where she was going, but still...he somehow managed to keep their paths from crossing. Did he know about vampires? Did he know who Angel was? Chances were he did, in her eyes at least, otherwise, why was he never present after sundown? So what was it that he wanted? What was he waiting for? If he wanted to harm Angel, why wouldn't he just set the entire hotel on fire, he had definitely had his chances. But he was watching, just watching so far, and it drove Buffy more crazy by the day, until she almost prayed for him to make a move.

Abruptly the door to the room opened behind her, and she shuddered at the unsuspected sound, the old fear the origin of which she didn't know almost consumed her again, but then her eyes distinguished a familiar figure moving in the murkiness of the room.

"Angel!" she cried out, before launching herself into his arms, surprising the vampire, whose only reaction, not knowing what it all was about, was to hug her back.

His eyes dimmed with worry when he found her crying when she finally drew back from him, though still holding on to the sleeve of his coat. "Hey," he hunched a little to level their eyes, clearing her tears with his thumbs, "what's wrong? What happened?" Seeing she was too distressed to answer him, he let go of her face and after managing to release his sleeve from her grip, took Connor from her. Fixing him on his left shoulder, he pulled her to his right one, and continued towards the bed.

There, he let go of his girlfriend and gingerly put the sleeping baby down. As he started removing his clothes one by one, the fact Buffy's eyes never left him even for one second registered in his mind with even additional cause for concern, but he made a mental note not to say anything else until she started to talk.

Finally, she did. "Where hav-" the Slayer moistened her dry lips, "where have you been?"

Angel unbuttoned his shirt and folded it neatly on a chair. "Just out...patrolling," he replied, and remaining in his boxers, climbed into the bed.

"No," the unfamiliar fright in her voice made him stop just when he was about to lift his second leg from the floor.

Buffy opened her mouth to his questioning look, then closed it, not knowing what to say not to sound stupid, which she did, in a sense, even to herself. But there still was the part of her that didn't care. "Could you...could you take my side tonight?" she nodded at her side of the bed. "I-I...I want the one by the window."

He studied her carefully, his _expression a mixture of surprise and confusion. "You don't like this side," he reminded her gently though he already saw in her eyes she wasn't making much sense even to herself with this request. Unless...there was something she wasn't letting him in on. Well, he was the master of secrets. It clearly took one to know one, he considered.

"I know," she nodded, wetting her lips again. "I just...want to be the closest to the window. Please?"

"Okay," he walked around the bed, as Buffy picked Connor up and hugged him to her chest, as she lay down where her boyfriend should have been. As soon as the vampire made comfortable on her side, the Slayer moved closer, and placing their son on his chest face down, nestled in the crook of his arm.

Angel folded his free arm over Connor's back and angled up Buffy's chin. "Hey," he kissed her lips softly, "wanna tell me now what it's all about?"

Her eyes stayed on his, as if she were considering his proposal, but then she just weakly shook her head, and returned it on his shoulder. "I just wanna sleep," she murmured. "It doesn't matter."

"You had a bad dream?" he guessed, making her instantly look back up. "The last and only time I saw this look in your eyes was when you showed up on my doorstep three years ago to tell me you dreamt...that's it, isn't it?"

Buffy swallowed, and cast her eyes down from his. "Can we just...not talk about it now? I don't want to...not now. Just...don't let go of me," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

"I'll never let go," he promised.

Part 11

Buffy exited the cellar and slammed the door behind her, clearly too hard, causing Dawn, Cordelia and even Gunn to simultaneously jump to their feet at the sound.

The former cheerleader was the first to recover from the surprise, while Dawn was still carefully watching her older sister. "So...how'd the training go?" she asked, and glanced at her watch, "for the last...three hours?"

Buffy frowned at her. "You only came to work half an hour ago."

"Three hours was a stab, but I see I'm right," she grinned proudly, but the grin was soon gone without a trace. "Next time when you decide to wake up at three am, try not to leave *four* cups of coffee for me to wash," Cordelia shot the Slayer a nasty look and rolled her eyes, "which...I'm guessing, you used *before* locking yourself in the basement. Next time, either wash them yourself, or use *one*, like normal people do. Being the boss' girlfriend doesn't come with special privileges, in case the little prints confused you."

"I'd say you two should take this up to the boyfriend," Gunn suggested, a small amused grin playing across his face.

"I'd say you should try," Buffy narrowed her eyes at Cordelia, who returned her an equally firm gaze, set on not letting the Slayer win this argument. Ultimately, Buffy averted her gaze first. She grabbed a towel from the front desk and pressed the soft fabric to her face, exhaling a sigh. After a moment, she removed the towel and shouldered it. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, looking up at the former cheerleader.

"Are you okay?" Dawn approached her with concern.

"Bad day," her sister muttered, and picked up her blond hair, fastening it in a disheveled bundle on her head. "Bad night... Gunn, can you cover for me and drive her to school?" she turned to the African American.

"Why can't you drive me?" Dawn looked at her sister, her eyes a bit hurt though she tried not to show it. She didn't mind going with Gunn, she had already started developing a crush on him though it could probably be attributed to the repeating pattern of her developing a crush at some point on every man in her sister's life. But she would still like Buffy to be the one to drive her to school. The Slayer had been very busy since she had come back, the majority of her time being spent either with Connor, or with Angel, or with Angel and Connor. Sure, she was spending time with her, too, and Dawn understood there was also her demanding duty as the Slayer, and that building the relationship between Angel and her (as much as Dawn thought she knew about relationships) and raising their son was only expected to be her sister's top priority at the moment. But all that aside, there were times when she was just hers, and Dawn was reluctant to give that up.

Buffy looked at her for a moment, thinking over what she should say. "I-I...have some stuff I need to do. But I'm still picking you up today, okay?" her eyes remained on the girl for a while, awaiting for an approval.

Her little sister nodded, not too enthusiastic to consent, but not into causing trouble at that point either. "So you can do that?" Buffy turned back to Gunn.

He shrugged, "No sweat. Let's go, kid," he grabbed Dawn's schoolbag in one hand and threw the other around her shoulders, leading her out of the hotel.

"Cordelia, have you seen Angel this morning?" When the brunette chose not to answer, childishly pretending Buffy's words skipped right past her ears, the Slayer sighed, really not in the mood to deal with that now, especially seeing as they *both* owed an apology to each other, but clearly having no choice. "Cordelia," she repeated the other woman's name, this time in an icier voice, "I said I was sorry."

Cordelia's head shot up. "Hardly!" she protested. "And next time you get authority issues, deal with them on your own behalf, okay?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, leaning back on the counter with her elbows. "And I didn't see him. It being six-thirty in the morning, my wild guess would be he's still asleep."

"And Wes?" "In the office," Cordelia threw a careless glance over her shoulder, "probably buried in a gazillion books again, he's got a research bug, don't ask me why, has been going on for days. I'm starting to think he forgot the Council fired him."

"Thanks," the Slayer mumbled, no longer paying attention to Cordelia, as she started towards the office.

* * * * * *

"Wes?" Buffy's eyes lay on the former Watcher whose entire attention, like Cordelia had predicted, was divided between three old tomes simultaneously. His eyes randomly jumped from one text to another as he was taking quick notes in a small pad he was holding up in one hand. He wasn't aware of her when she had come in, and even for a few seconds afterwards, but once he did take notice of her, he hastened to hide the pad from her eyes in the pocket of his shirt, not really caring whether it was too late and she'd already seen it.

The Slayer chose to ignore that move, her mind being much more preoccupied by other things at the moment than whatever Wesley was working on. She wished she had Giles to talk to about that, but he had gone away, back to England, and when Willow had called him, right after she'd come to Sunnydale, he was unable to return right away due to something having to do with the Council. It had been over a week since then and he still hadn't come. As much as the concept alone surprised her, Buffy saw Wesley as the only resemblance to a Watcher she had within reach, and on top of that, he was a friend, more Angel's than hers, but still someone she could talk to. And probably if the circumstances were different, she would never confide in him about that...but Giles wasn't there.

"Buffy," he gulped, nervously taking off his glasses. "Y-you wanted something?"

"Sort of," she briefly looked around herself. "Are you alright?" It was the first time he took in the fact that she wasn't.

But Buffy hurried to dismiss him. "Yeah. You got a minute?"

"Of course," he quickly cleared the books from the table and the Slayer sank into an empty chair. "What is it?" he prompted her to begin.

Buffy looked down into her lap, still contemplating over whether she should let him in on something so private. Curiosity was killing her, and if nothing else, at least her years-long experience as Slayer taught her these things mustn't be ignored or dismissed in any way. She would rather telling Angel, obviously, but at the same time, she knew she couldn't. For some reason, she just didn't feel ready for it yet. "Did Gunn tell you?" she finally looked up at the ex-Watcher. "A-about the...well, you know what," she waved her hand.

"Yes, he did," the Englishman confirmed gravelly, putting his glasses back on. "He never mentioned he told you, however."

"Yeah...I asked him not to. I'm not really supposed to know." She leaned back in her seat. "Angel-orders."

He nodded. "Is that what it's about then?"

"In a way," she sighed. "Since he...told me, I've been kinda restless, it's been...bugging me. A-and which it...shouldn't, I-I mean, we don't even know anything about this guy, right? Maybe-maybe he's stalking someone else, right? I-I mean, we don't even know who he is, or...anything..." her ramblings trailed off when she acknowledged Wesley was thrown by so many words at once that made no sense whatsoever, and she had to admit to herself, so was she. "The other night, I...I did something completely ridiculous," she began again, maintaining a calmer tone to her voice this time. "It...didn't seem ridiculous at the time, but I guess it never does...until after. I had a nightmare and...I actually made Angel switch bedsides with me, because in the nightmare, he was on his when he got...when he got killed."

The former Watcher drew his brows together and took his glasses off again, putting them down on the desk as he leaned in closer to the Slayer. "You had a nightmare...about someone killing Angel?"

Buffy nodded, biting down on her lip.

He was unsure whether he should be asking the next question, but he had to know... "How?"

"How?"

Wesley hesitated again. "You said he got killed... How?"

"He..." she swallowed, "a-a stake. Someone...staked him." Her arms subconsciously wrapped themselves around her middle, while her mind couldn't understand what she was thinking telling it to Wesley while the mere vivid memory of that scene had the power to drive her to the very verge of tears, especially without Angel being there to prove her it wasn't real. Guessing Wesley's upcoming question when he only opened his mouth, she answered it, "I don't know who it was. I didn't see a face, just...eyes."

"Eyes?" he frowned.

"Yeah...there were these eyes...it's all I saw, or at least that's all I remember I saw..." She wasn't so sure herself anymore, she didn't know what she remembered and what she didn't. The more she thought she knew, the more confusing it became.

"Right," he took a deep breath. "Do you...do you remember anything else? Anything that might point on some-"

"He was gone," Buffy looked up directly into his eyes and the pain and fear in hers were almost overwhelming to the former Watcher. "He was...gone," she snapped her fingers, "just like that. I can't even, I... I don't need you to research, I don't need you to *assume* anything, or suggest anything, I just need you to tell me what it means. That's all I need. Because this...it can't happen. It *can't*."

"I understand that," he assured her gently. "You...you think this man or...whatever he is, has a connection to this dream?"

"I don't know," she admitted humbly.

"Has it...happened before?"

Buffy didn't understand where he was going with that, "It?"

"Yes," Wesley cleared his throat tensely. "Have you ever had dreams in which Angel found his death in one way or another? I won't lie to you, Buffy, I don't know if you discussed it with Giles though I presume you did, but...a Slayer's dreams..."

"I know all about a Slayer's dreams," she held up her hand, not wanting to hear any more. "And to your question, yes. I dreamt about Angel dying before, several times. It all happened three years ago, on my seventeenth birthday. No, he didn't die, not in the classical sense of the word anyway, but we all know what did happen and...frankly, I'm really not up for a mental trip down memory lane."

Wesley rubbed his eyes tiredly, unsure of what to make of her words. He had concerns of his own and though they were only recently born, he was hoping to share them with the Slayer as soon as he had something solid to confirm everything he already knew. But he needed her strong, capable and self reliable to be able to handle what would be coming, if he was right. And what he saw now was everything but that. Naturally, he had said it himself, thought there was no way of knowing *how* would that dream come to pass, her being the Slayer, it's more than likely that it would, and it had shaken him, too, to hear that. But he still remembered everything he had come across while going over Giles' diaries back in Sunnydale and later on the research he himself had done about the Slayer and the vampire with a soul. If things were to repeat themselves, she would fall apart, she wouldn't be able to deal with everything that would happen, if anything happened to Angel, or... "Are you sure it was Angel?" he managed. "T-the dream...are you sure the death it predicted was Angel's?"

Buffy eyed him at loss. "What?"

"I-I-well..." he cleared his throat again a couple of times. "Sometimes what you see in your dreams might actually indicate something...else..."

"Who else would it be?" She suddenly had a strange feeling he was hiding something from her.

Wesley looked down, releasing a nervous sigh. "I was...suggesting. That's all."

"Wonderful," she smirked, inwardly wondering what had she expected to achieve by telling him everything in the first place, and stood up. "Well, *I* happen to have to stick to facts." With that, she walked out of the office, clearly having not found the answers she was looking for.

* * * * * *

"I will act when I think the time is right, *not* before."

"Stake. Vampire. Dust." Sahjhan rolled his eyes impatiently. "How much time do you need? I, for one, am getting tired by now. I do the work, I jump you two centuries into the future, I hand him *over* to you, all you need to do is drive a stake through his heart, how much time do you think it takes?!"

Holtz smiled icily. "*You* cannot kill him. You need me for it."

"You've had over two weeks! You won't do it, I'll find someone who will. You *owe* me."

He ignored the demon completely, as he was calmly pacing back and forth. "We have one thing, and one thing only in common. We both want Angelus and Darla dead. Where Darla is, I don't know, but Angelus is here." "Yeah, right under our noses, no less, and you don't even make a move!" Sahjhan cut into the man's speech.

Holtz stopped marching and looked at him. "But the only one who can kill him is me. I do things in my own way...that's the only way it will be done." He paused, as though thinking something over. "He is surrounded by humans," he mused. "Still, he does not try to kill them. I wonder if they know what he is."

"Yeah, well...how do you know they're humans?" the demon stuttered, not attempting to be as intimidating as before, but mostly worrying he wouldn't have to reveal Holtz the several details he had kept away from him, such as the return of Angel's soul.

"The black man is," Holtz replied evenly, completely disregarding the concerned note in the demon's voice. "I saw him in the sun. I think he suspects something, perhaps he's seen me. There is another woman, dark-haired, I saw her in the sun, too. And another man. And I think there are more."

"So *what*?" Sahjhan snapped irritably, as he quickly shifted back to his old self. "It shouldn't be in your way! I'm not asking you to kill *them*, I couldn't care less about them. I want Angelus-"

"And I want justice!" the man glared at him, but his eyes were soon blank again, as he regained composure over himself. "And *justice* I shall have. *My* way."

"What *is* your way?! Watch him to death?"

"Revenge," he said, as a faint resemblance to a smile crept to his somber features. "Even a soulless beast such as him has a soft spot. I'll find it. And I'll destroy it, if there is a creature in this world that is dear to him, I will kill it before I kill him. For that, I need to find out more about these humans, whoever they are. I must learn his weaknesses...and that's where I'll hurt him."

Part 12

"Morning," the Slayer greeted the vampire, who was busy making their bed, as she was trying to shut the door behind her with her shoulder and not drop either the sandwich she was holding in one hand, or the glass of blood she was holding in the other. Finally, she pressed her back against the door, emitting a sigh of relief when the sandwich almost slipped from the plate, but didn't.

Angel approached her and took the blood.

"Breakfast," Buffy explained with a small smile. "I figured you'd be awake by now."

He leaned in and cupped her chin in his free hand, angling it up to meet her lips in a kiss.

"Yum," she beamed at him, pulling away eventually. "How is junior doing?" she glanced at Connor, who was curled up, still sleeping, on the yet unmade section of the bed.

Angel smiled, put his blood on the bedside, and snaked his arms around her waist from behind, pressing her back to his exposed chest. "He woke up approximately ten minutes ago, waking me up in the process of course, but I guess I'm used to that. I changed him, he went back to sleep. Coming to think of it, I can't believe I didn't just smell that," he chuckled.

"Sorry," she looked up, offering him a small apologetic pout. "I should have taken him with me, so you could sleep. I mean, I was awake anyway..."

"It's okay." He pressed a kiss to her skull. "As you can see, we both managed to survive. Is that your definition of breakfast?" he looked down at the sandwich that still lay untouched on the plate in her hand.

Buffy rotated in his arms, giving him a pointed look, "Yes, actually, Mister-liquid-diet-I-feed-on-life-itself." But at his perpetual gaze, she ultimately sighed. "I'm not hungry. I don't know...just don't feel like having something big, that's all."

"Something bigger than a sandwich, you mean?" He took her by the hand and pulled her over to the bed, where they both sat down. "Tell me what's going on," he probed, as he gently lay his hand on her thigh. When she didn't answer, he took the plate from her and put it away next to his blood. "Then I'll fix you a breakfast fit to a normal person."

"It's nothing," she reluctantly looked away, uneasily shifting her hands in her lap. She hadn't had the best night, nor the best morning, and she really wasn't looking forward to also not having the best day, however inevitable it was, by telling Angel everything. She couldn't explain why but for some reason, she felt if he tried to skillfully soothe her by promising her nothing would happen to him, it would only make things worse than they already are.

"Is it the dream you had last night?" he guessed, although Buffy had to admit it took him longer than she had thought to say the words. "It's still bothering you?"

Unaware of her own actions, she returned him a weak nod.

The vampire sighed, and pulled her to him, waiting patiently until her stiff body melted in his arms in its natural response and she lay her head on his chest. "Just tell me what it is," he asked, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "It must have really gotten to you, if you insisted on swapping bedsides with me."

"You knew?" he looked up.

"I guessed," he admitted, not too impressed with himself, "it took me a while."

The Slayer looked down, not knowing what to say. If a person, in her case, vampire, existed in this world who had the power to draw everything out of her regardless to how much she refused to speak, it was the vampire holding her at that very moment. Eventually she knew she would tell him, even before he started becoming more persuasive, even though he never needed to exert much whenever it had to do with her. She just didn't know if she should tell him *yet*, before she herself could figure out what it was all about. She remembered clearly the last time it happened - her seventeenth birthday. She was just a girl back then, innocent as much as a Slayer could be classified as one, completely and utterly in love with her vampire boyfriend. She had shown up on his doorstep, freaked from the nightmare that wouldn't leave her mind until he took her in his arms and made it all go away. She had been places since then, had seen things, she wasn't that girl anymore, and still, her recent nightmare affected her no less than the one from years ago. So was it because it was Angel, the pretty much only thing that could drive her Slayer's self control out of control, and who back then was the truly *only* thing? Or maybe it was because that dream she had the night before was too prophetic and too vivid even for his arms to be able to chase it away?

"Well?"

"You know what it's about," she murmured into his chest.

"I do," he nodded. "But I want *you* to tell me."

Buffy inhaled a deep breath. "I...dreamt, that...you were killed," she tightened her arms around him, at a point a little overstepping the lines of what a normal person could endure, but then loosening the ring again, choosing to snuggle closer instead. "Right...in front of me, in our bed. I-I didn't even see who it was, just that...you just turned to dust, and..."

"Shh," he picked that moment to try to calm her, as her voice started to border being overwhelmed by unshed tears. "It's okay," he kissed the top of her head. "We'll figure it out."

"I was so freaked out..." she continued, almost breathlessly, "this...I woke up, and...it actually took me a while to realize I *woke up*, that I...was dreaming. It was even worse than before, it was...Angel," she put her hands on his shoulders, angling her head up to meet his eyes, "it was so real...*too* real. I know I'm the Slayer, so every dream can mean the end of the world in my case, but...it was too real." She shook her head, "I...I don't know how to handle this."

He swallowed, averting his eyes for a second. The increasing hammering of her heart against his chest only caused him to instinctively press her closer though he knew it would probably not do any good anyway. So now in addition to his own recently developed concerns due to everything Gunn had been telling him, the Slayer, no less, was dreaming about him being killed. How that could possibly point him towards the bright spot, he would very much like to know. "You remember...what happened?"

"What?"

"In the dream you had," he clarified gently. "Aside from someone killing me...did anything else happen?"

She weakly shook her head, "Nothing. We just...we were talking and..."

"What...about?" he prodded. "Do you remember what it was about?"

"Connor...mostly," she attempted to remember the precise words, but they made to her as much sense as they had in the dream itself. How could she ever convey him something she herself didn't understand? "You...said some stuff," she frowned, trying harder to rationalize it in her head. "It...it was too vague...made no sense. You said that...you couldn't erase the past, that it'd haunt you, that you would pay a price for happiness, it...it made no sense to me in the dream, not in the...general picture. Angel?" she looked up, stricken with sudden realization she hadn't had before. "Why would anyone want to kill you?"

He didn't really know what to answer to that. It would make more sense if she asked why *wouldn't* anyone want to kill him. But somehow, it seemed they weren't thinking about the same thing.

Obviously, his confusion quickly became apparent to her. "I-I mean...because you're happy. Why would anyone want to kill you because you're happy?"

And here he could think of really no one to hunt him for *that* reason. Even if for vengeance purposes, which God knew, he more than earned over the years...they were all dead. Weren't they?... "I don't know."

After a long spell in which neither one of them said anything, Buffy finally spoke, "I don't want to talk about it anymore." She pulled out of his arms, reaching for her breakfast, but realizing she had lost all appetite and putting it back on the nightstand. "Hey," Angel clasped her hand, making her look at him. "It's gonna be okay. I promise you. Like I said...we'll figure it out. Nothing is going to happen to me."

"Where did I hear that before?" she muttered, standing up and heading to the bathroom. At the doorway, she stopped and turned around. "I'm gonna take a shower, Will is supposed to come over today, we'll probably go someplace, I'll take Connor with me so you can catch some sleep." she flashed him a smile, which he barely returned.

"I'm still gonna make you something decent to eat, alright?"

She nodded, a bit too indifferently, and closed the door behind her.

* * * * *

"I'm really glad you could come, Will," the Slayer looked at her friend, as the two women were walking down the street towards the Hyperion hotel. "I know it's been...not that long, but I missed you."

"That's why I'm here," the redhead grinned back at her. "I know you're a little busy right now..."

"Just a little," Buffy laughed.

"A lot," Willow corrected herself. "I know you guys can't start with the weekly visits just yet, so...I had no classes today and I thought...why not drop by," she shrugged, smiling. "Things seem to be pretty good here, I mean...just look at you, you're happy," she gestured at the blonde, who only smiled in return. "I haven't seen you like that in...two years. My guess is things are getting along with Angel?" she hinted mischievously.

"Yeah," Buffy grinned, nodding eagerly. "I mean...well, to say the truth, we haven't yet had a too-much-touching kinda awkward moment. I mean...we know what we can do, and I guess it's kinda frustrating sometimes..."

"So what do you do?"

Buffy waited with the response,until she completely made up her mind to speak it out loud, "Work out a lot," she grinned strangely. The Witch laughed at that, soon having the Slayer joining her. "Really?"

Buffy nodded, "Yeah really. But...we manage. And we manage without letting the tension get to us, we even manage without tension at all. And there are also all the other stuff...but even Angel doesn't seem to care about them anymore, and that's...good. He's trying to make everything as normal as possible, for Connor, even more than for me, I guess the fact normal and me just don't go together finally hit home. He insists on stuff like...having him out during daylight a lot, keeping the environment relatively...normal, for him, you know. I guess the core of this transformation is that three years ago, he left me because of number of things, and he held on to that decision he had made, putting it above everything else, and his head-into-the-wall mission to protect the Slayer from the *evil* in the world clouded his judgement and he stopped seeing what his Slayer really needed," she sighed, sending her friend a pointed look. "He pulled me into the vortex of his so-called just causes and...I gave up, too. I saw he wasn't fighting, so I just thought...why should I? So after I got over my phase of making his life a living Hell on every chance I got just like he had made mine when he'd taken off, I just...stopped caring even about that. I just stopped caring. And then the being apart from him became such a part of my life, I started believing it was right, too, no matter how much it hurt. Then I died," she shrugged. "But now, it's...over. Now, he's not willing to do the right thing anymore, and I'm not willing to play along, or maybe...we're finally, now, doing the right thing for real. I don't know. I don't care. All I know is that it's just...good being with him again...having something *normal* to hold onto, some sanctuary in an all around crazy world. Besides, with raising Dawn, raising Connor, protecting Connor, battling everything that goes bump in the night, and somewhere in between randomly stealing a kiss or two, we really don't have a lot of time left to brood about sex or..the lack of it. Our schedule is pretty packed as it is."

"You know now how your mom must have felt?" Willow observed, with a sly grin in her eyes her best friend picked up immediately.

"Oh, yeah. It's a good thing though I don't have to do this alone. I don't even know how Angel managed while I was...elsewhere," she sighed. "I mean, it's great, and I love every minute of it, but...it's *so* exhausting! You wouldn't believe it, it's a full time job that never stops, beats any apocalypse, just take my word for it. And behold the proof," Buffy stopped and bent to take the now restless baby out of his stroller into her arms before he started crying, which experience taught her he would. Willow took over pushing the empty stroller and the two resumed their walk. "I was saying," Buffy took a deep breath, shifting her son more comfortably on her shoulder, "sometimes he wants daddy, sometimes he wants mommy, sometimes he wants his bottle, sometimes he wants a toy, sometimes he needs to be changed or he just wants to be held. And of course, you always need to first figure out which one is which."

"But you still love every minute of it," the witch grinned knowingly.

"In the end of the day...I do," the Slayer smiled, and fixed the hat on Connor's head. "Besides...I love having both of my boys with me, doesn't get better than that."

"I bet. I do have one confession to make though, and it's that, all in all, I never did see you as the motherly type."

Buffy quirked a brow, "But you saw my vampire boyfriend as the fatherly type?"

Willow was about to laugh at that remark, but the sudden change in her friend's _expression caused her to suppress that drive. Buffy's face became somber, and she tightened her hold of Connor, almost instinctively. Slowly, she stopped and turned around, her eyes fixing on the back of a retreating man in a long coat.

"What's wrong?" the redhead asked with concern.

"I..." she swallowed, then forced her eyes off of the stranger's figure. "Will, he was stalking us..."

"What?!"

"I-I'm sure, he was...he was walking right behind us, and he was listening...he was following us..."

"Buffy," Willow gently lay a hand on her arm, urging her to continue walking the opposite direction from the man. "What's wrong with you?" she looked up at her friend, her face, again, showing nothing but pure concern and confusion. "Maybe he just forgot something and turned around or...whatever, you're overreacting. Why would he be stalking you?"

Buffy looked at her for a moment, then turned her eyes straight ahead. "I don't know anymore," she whispered, but never loosened her hold around her son.

Part 13

"Hey," Angel put down the file he'd been reading and met Buffy and Willow half way through the lobby when the two women returned to the hotel. The Slayer shifted her son over to her left shoulder and leaned in for a lingering kiss from her boyfriend, that could and would have lasted longer, had Cordelia not seen it necessary to clear her throat, five times in a row. "You okay?" the vampire gently brushed his finger down the Slayer's cheek, eventually setting it under her chin and propping it up. There was something he was picking up from her that even the bright smile she gave him was unable to conceal. It wasn't something new, he'd been receiving these vibes for a while now, but that day they seemed to be particularly powerful. "You sure nothing's wrong?" he asked, knowing it wasn't nearly enough to draw an answer from her, what's more, about something she was trying to hide.

Buffy swallowed and briefly looked down, but then nodded, trying to bring that same smile back but failing miserably and giving up. "I'm just tired," she supplied, of course, not at all believably, and before Angel could probe any further, held Connor out for him, "And he misses daddy."

His father scooped him in his arms, for only a second tearing his attention from Buffy and to Connor, but that second was enough for the Slayer to be gone from the lobby by the time he looked back up. Angel narrowed his eyes for a moment in the direction of the stairs leading to the second floor. "Willow, what happened?" he looked at the remaining redhead, who was standing right behind him.

Willow shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say and whether Buffy would want her to say anything at all. On the other hand, lying to Angel wasn't the best idea either. "She's scared," she admitted eventually.

"Terrified is more like it," Cordelia chirped from behind the front desk, "did you see the way she took off-"

"Cordy," Willow glared at her, indicating her she could handle it by herself. The brunette just shrugged indifferently in return and went back to her business.

"What happened?" Angel persisted.

"She...thinks someone's stalking her," the witch attempted to explain without giving away too many details from what her best friend had told her earlier that day. "Or...could be not her, could be you...could be Connor or...all of you, any of you. She thought he followed her today, too."

"He..." Angel echoed, studying the redhead with his eyes.

She nodded in confirmation. "This guy, we met him on the street today, or so Buffy says. He...freaked her out, she kept insisting he was stalking her..." She inwardly ruled against slipping in the part where according to the Slayer, the vampire knew about it a lot more than he appeared to.

To Willow's complete astonishment, his eyes flashed with panic when he released one hand from around his son and gripped her shoulder. "Did he touch her?" he demanded to know, as if he had the whole story behind what she was talking about. "Or Connor? Did he do anything to them??"

The redhead eyed him strangely with newborn confusion, before weakly shaking her head in response, "No...Angel, what..."

"Willow, can you..." At her nod, he passed Connor over to her and she securely settled the baby in her arms, only managing to catch a last glimpse of black as his father disappeared behind a corner on the second floor.

* * * * *

Angel quietly opened the door into their room and stood for several moments on the threshold as though waiting for her to give away any signs to that she might have acknowledged his presence at all. But she hadn't. Or just didn't. She continued lying silently on the king-sized bed, utterly oblivious to him being there. No trace was left from the mood she had been in earlier. She wasn't even trying to fake anymore.

Ultimately, the vampire gave up, emitting a sigh. "Talk to me," he requested quietly.

At first she didn't reply at all, but then, "If anyone should be doing the talking here, it should be you. And while you're at it, you can also close the door."

He nodded, resembling a schoolboy who knows he's about to be punished, knowing she wasn't looking at him anyway, and wordlessly followed her request. Then he approached the bed and heavily sat down, laying a hand on her shoulder.

The same moment, the Slayer rolled on her back and locked eyes with the vampire's, already knowing what she'd find in them; two dark pools of soft brown, full of honesty, love and remorse. And even after all those years...the so familiar dread of rejection. Inwardly making a pack with herself to not let herself melt in them this time, she resolutely tucked her hands under her head, and not breaking eye contact, silently demanded an answer.

"Where do I...where do I start?" Angel asked, unsure of what he was supposed to tell her, or rather, what she expected him to.

"Honestly?" Buffy peered at him for a moment, before, "As long as you do, I don't really care." Then she just said, "Start at the beginning, Angel, that's what most people do. You know what I want to hear and I know that you know. It doesn't get any simpler, it really doesn't. Let's just say I'm done with playing games."

He couldn't help but being stricken by the mild anger that shadowed her straightforward words. "Buffy-"

"No." She pushed herself up. "I meant what I said. Enough of that. Let me just...tell you this one thing, okay?" Without waiting for him to even nod, she continued, "You *always* tried to protect me from everything, and even though I knew I could take care of myself, and so did you, nothing felt better than knowing I could share that burden of responsibility with someone else once in a while, share it with you of all people. You will never know just how much it really meant to me, knowing that while it maybe felt like I needed to watch after the entire world and take care of everyone, there was this someone, somewhere, who loved me enough to want to take care of me." She stopped, and looked deeper into his eyes, trying to discern whether he already knew where she was heading with that. He did. But he also knew she still had some more to go before she'd say what she had to say. "It can't go on that way anymore. It can't go on that way *now*. Do you know why? Because it's no longer just us that are at stake, Angel. It's not just the two of *us*. We are a family now, we have Connor. And Connor can't take care of himself, he needs us to do it for him. Not just you...us. Both of us. How do you expect me to be able to protect my *son* when his father doesn't even bother to clue me in on even potential danger?!"

"He was given to us, Angel," she drew closer, gathering both his hands in hers, as her green continued piercing even farther into the depth of his fathomless brown. "By some miracle, you and I were gifted this child, something I never thought we could have, something I couldn't even afford to *dream* about having with you. And it's our responsibility to protect him, to keep him safe, to be worthy of him. It's our responsibility both as fighters and as parents. We *both* need to know what's going on."

The vampire slowly pulled his hands out of the Slayer's tight grip and grimly turned away from her, his jaw firmly set in a fashion Buffy had become only too familiar with over the years, one that clearly indicated on deep thoughts.

She released a sigh, and crawled up to him, snaking her arms around his waist and fitting herself at his side. "I won't judge you," she promised, as she inclined her cheek on his shoulder with a yet another barely perceptible sigh. "Not for the world, Angel, you know me so much better than that. And knowing you, you're covered in that department anyway. I'm not doing it to make it hard on you. I just wanna know."

Angel didn't say anything, and after a moment, untangled himself from her embrace, much to her surprise, and rose to his feet, crossing the room straight towards the closet. Buffy's eyes followed him expectedly, as he opened the doors and from the lower compartment, retrieved a carton box, stocked with papers. Rustling through them, he finally seemed to have found what he'd been looking for and with the sheet in his hand, returned to his girlfriend.

Buffy hesitantly accepted it from his outstretched hand and studied the drawing with curious and somewhat thrown gaze for several seconds. It was a man, if to judge by appearance, in his late thirties, could be early forties, that's all she knew about him and even that was from the drawing. She was trying to search back in her memory to if and when she might have seen him before, but came up empty handed. But nevertheless...something remained too frighteningly familiar about that face...

"Who is he?" she asked Angel, unable to control the slight wavering of her voice.

"I assembled this description from the details Gunn had to supply," he said, not in the least answering her question, but for some reason she didn't try to stop him. "It's as accurate as it gets...or so I think. His name *is* Daniel Holtz. He's a vampire hunter...from the late eighteenth hundreds."

The Slayer's eyes grew large as they returned to rest on the drawing. Her upcoming words voiced the last possible thing on her mind, "Is it, umm...could it...you know..." she wetted her lips, "could it be his...great-great...something, or...something?" she gazed up at her lover.

Angel only averted his gaze guiltily, choosing not to respond to this, hoping she'd get the message in the silence.

She did. "Oh," Buffy answered for him, "I...see." Taking them both by surprise, he soon came to fill her blanks.

"Darla and I...it was seventeen-sixty-four, I...remember that day..."

You remember every day, she silently added to herself as she subconsciously pulled closer and took his hand in hers, already guessing the rest of the story he hadn't even begun to tell yet.

He blinked, trying to overpower the slight trembling in his hand, even in spite of being gently cradled in the Slayer's small palms. "We butchered his entire family. We killed them...turned his daughter...she was only six, I think... His wife, I-I..." He gulped and looked down, his mouth working on trying to form more words, but his vocal cords weren't cooperating for some reason. "His son was...Connor's age, older, maybe. We murdered them all, in their home, left the bodies for him to find when he'd come back. He'd been hunting us for decades, tailing us all across Europe...both me and her. Then he suddenly stopped."

Buffy drew in a deep breath, as her lover closed before her a yet another chapter of his appalling past. Her mind couldn't work properly just yet. All she could let out was a croaked, "Why?"

"Why he stopped?"

"Y-yeah."

"We thought...assumed he was dead. Apparently, he was just smart," he lay out flatly, his orbs glinting with bitter irony.

Her eyes read right through his unspoken thoughts. "Angel, he..."

"He did," the vampire left her no room to argue. "He somehow managed to skip past two centuries and now he's here. I don't care how, I don't know..."

"But you think it's him," she completed.

"I *know* it's him. It can only be him. For what he did to him... *I* did..." Angel stood up, pulling his hand out of hers in the process, and made several steps towards the center of the room. Silence settled on the two of them and neither spoke for the following few moments, until he let out a tense, dry laugh, causing a cold shudder down Buffy's spine. "Hell, we-" he spun around, throwing his hands in the air, "we both know from experience, impossible doesn't exist-"

"I don't care-"

"No!" In a flash he was at her side, kneeling by the bed, both his hands clenching her arms. "He's here, and you know why he's here, the only reason he's-"

"No!" this time, the protest came from her, as she jolted away from him, the glimpse of fear he had caught in her teary eyes before she tore them away was beyond chilling. After inhaling a few shaky breaths, she was able to direct her gaze at him again. "I don't...*care* what you did to him..."

"Buffy..." he interrupted her attempt to logic but she interrupted his.

"I. Don't. Care," she articulated each word. "I won't let him. He's *not* getting my son, *our* son...he's not getting Connor. If you don't do something, if you don't protect him, I will. I'll do *anything*, but he won't come near my son!" She swung her legs over the bedside and brushing her face with her sleeve, strode out of the room without looking back. But she only made two steps before Angel's hand grabbed her arm and whirled her around. "I'm sorry for what you...what your demon did to him, to his family," she said, in a low, husky voice, before he even opened his mouth. "It was horrible. And I'm *so* *very* sorry..."

"Buffy," Angel cut her, getting it through to her *he* had something to say. "I took from him everything he had, he's here, now, to do the exact same thing to me. His vengeance lived through centuries, he sure as *Hell* won't stop now! The *most* important thing I have..."

She sharply pulled her arm from his grip. "I won't let him take his revenge on our son," she asserted. "*Not* gonna happen. He'll turn his little time machine around and he's gonna go back the way he came because however your alter-ego screwed up, he's not getting anywhere near Connor." With that, she spun around, not willing to listen to anything more and headed straight towards the door.

"I'm sorry."

The Slayer froze in mid pace, the air lumped in her throat and for a moment, it felt like iron fingers clawed her heart and squeezed all life out of it. She slowly unclenched the fists she had only just become aware of, but didn't turn around. She swallowed hard and managed a hardly perceptible, "What?" when she was able to speak again.

"Buffy," he said her name instead, his voice barely above whisper, but packed with so much agony and hollow remorse it pierced through her like a cold blade. "I'm-"

Before he got to finish even his trace of thought, her arms flung around him, her small hands tightly gripped the black fabric of his shirt as she buried her face in his chest, patiently waiting until his arms came around her as well. "I love you," came out mumbled into his shirt, but was picked up by his ears nonetheless. "Don't," she said, more clearly this time and he wasn't sure whether it was more a request or an order. "Don't. Ever."

Go to Part 14