Years Later Series:
The Prize and The Price
by KNS

"I haven't seen you around here before."

Angel set his glass down on the bar to look at the woman standing beside him. She was pretty, with her long dark hair and soft brown eyes. She was young, in her mid-twenties - and she was dressed to impress, wearing a short black dress that revealed more than a little skin.

"I'm here with a friend," he told her firmly. Buffy would *not* be happy if she returned to find him flirting with this girl. She had departed not a moment before to see if their table was ready, leaving him in the bar to wait for her.

The woman was not about to be put off so easily. "And you're not from these parts, either. You sound like an American." She smiled, inviting him to correct her.

Angel looked around the bar, hoping to spot Buffy. It had been her idea to come here - well, her and Willow's idea. The two women had worked out the details during one of their shopping trips, leaving both him and supposedly Xander no other option but to agree. Not that the restaurant where he stood lacked in any form - the decor was simple yet elegant with long, glass chandeliers hanging from above while lighted candles graced every table in the air was the sweet smell of spices and fresh flowers an eight person band placed softly in a corner while couples danced together on the large wooden dance floor. It was an elegant place, and he was glad he'd given in to Buffy's pleas to ‘dress up'.

Still, there was one thing bothering him - Xander. He'd neither seen nor spoken to Willow's husband since a week before, and that night had gone particularly wrong. And now they were going to have dinner in public. Angel wasn't sure if that was a stupid or brilliant move on behalf of the two women.

The woman beside him laid a hand on his arm. "So, are you from the states?" she asked, smiling up at him.

He inched away from her. "No - I mean, yes," he corrected quickly. God, where was the Slayer when he needed her? The young woman probably wasn't a vampire, but he certainly felt like he was being hunted. "My wife went to check on our table," he added hastily. He held up his left hand, displaying his ring. "I'm married."

"Nice ring," she said easily, not at all perturbed. "My name's Mary."

"My name's Buffy."

Angel and the woman turned to see Buffy standing behind them, a smile on her face and a wicked twinkle in her eyes. Casually she slipped her arm through Angel's. "Table's ready, dearest. Nice meeting you," she told the woman in a tone that said exactly the opposite.

"She's your wife?" the woman asked Angel. "She's old enough to be your mother."

Angel and Buffy looked at each other and started laughing.

"Hardly," Angel told the confused woman before he and Buffy walked away.

"Can't I even leave you alone for a minute?" she teased as they threaded their way between illuminated tables, dark uniformed waiters, and well-dressed patrons.

"I'm fairly sure she was evil," he returned.

Giles and his wife Marianna were already seated at the table. Giles half-stood when Buffy appeared, then seemed to remember that she frowned on such manners and quickly sat back down. "Buffy, Angel," he greeted them, smiling. "How are you this evening?"

"We're good," Buffy answered, sliding into the chair Angel pulled out for her beside Marianna. She smiled up at him, then turned to the woman beside her. "Hey, Mari. Wow - you look great."

Mari was an interesting woman. A few years younger than Giles, she was nevertheless much like him in many ways - polite, knowledgeable, deeply loyal to the few she considered friends. But unlike Giles, she had a far more pronounced sense of humor, and liked to make other people laugh. Physically, she was nearly as tall as her husband, and had soft blue eyes and long, pale blond/white hair that she usually bound into a bun at the nape of her neck. Tonight, however, she let her hair loose, and it fell in long waves to the middle of her back. Added to that was the fact that she had exchanged her usual slacks and shirt for a dark blue evening gown. As Buffy had pointed out, she looked stunning.

"Hi guys," Willow said, appearing at the table with Xander beside her. "Sorry we're late - traffic was atrocious."

"Hey Giles, Mari, Buff." Xander hesitated barely a moment before adding, "Angel."

"Nice duds, Xan," Buffy said, cutting into the silence that had fallen between them. God, she hoped she hadn't made a mistake bringing these two into public. . .

"You like?" Xander settled Willow into her chair beside Angel, then sat down next to Giles. "Willow found it in some box. I haven't worn a tux in years." He looked over at Angel. "Looks like Buff did the same thing to you."

Angel was tempted to make a cutting reply, but he saw the half-pleading expression on Buffy's face and changed his mind. "We arm-wrestled over it. Guess who won."

Xander actually chuckled. "You should know better than to arm-wrestle with the Slayer. But hey, I bet you didn't have to have yours altered, at least."

The two men laughed.

Buffy and Willow exchanged smug looks.

The evening was a success. By the time the food was served, Xander and Angel were participating in the general conversation as if there had never been ill feelings between them by the time after-dinner coffee was served, they were chatting like old friends. Angel even accepted a cup of coffee, although he did water it down considerably with milk and sugar.

"Angel and I are thinking about going to Ireland," Buffy said, stirring her coffee.

"Really? What part?" Mari asked.

"All of it," Angel answered, adding more milk to his cup. "Dublin, Belfast, even Galway." He glanced at Buffy. "I want to show her where I grew up."

"But, won't that be a little. . . painful?" Xander asked, confused.

Even Giles tensed at the question. Angel looked at the businessman and saw that he meant no harm by the question, he was simply concerned. And so he answered it civilly, not as he would have done had he been baited. "I don't think so." Again he looked back to Buffy, who was smiling gently at him. "Not anymore."

"Are you going to take up residence there?" Giles questioned, looking to Buffy.

Buffy shrugged. "We've talked about it," she confessed. "Angel keeps trying to talk me into it, but I don't know. . . I like the states."

"You'll like Ireland," he assured her. "Especially the parts I'll show you."

"And, on the plus side, you'll be closer to us," Willow said. "No more long flights."

"And maybe when you two get a place, our Buff could come to visit you," Xander said, casting a glance to Willow, who was quick to nod agreement.

"Really?" Buffy asked, liking the idea. "You don't think - I mean, Angel would be great for her, but aren't you afraid I'll - you know - be a bad influence on her?"

"No," the five other people at the table said together, then laughed.

"O-kay," Buffy said mildly, giving them all a look. "Anyway, it's something to think about. I could probably get a job at one of the universities there - what?" The last was to Mari, who was looking at her oddly.

"Do you know how long it's been since you even considered taking on a full-time occupation?" Mari returned. She ignored the warning hand Giles laid on her arm. "Years. Several years. I'm not talking about ‘hi-I'm-here-want-to-hear-me-lecture' jobs, but a *real* job, one you show up for every day, one you see yourself preforming in the future -"

"-One you get a paycheck for," Xander finished.

Buffy laughed. "Well, what can I say? Angel inspires stability."

"And you have references from the best universities," Willow said, now truly excited at the prospect of having her friends so close. "You've lectured everywhere - Yale, Oxford, Harvard - "

"I knew it was you!"

They all turned to look at the stranger who stood a few steps behind Buffy's chair, a young man in his late twenties or early thirties with fair brown hair and deep green eyes. He was dressed professionally in a dark suit and tie.

"You are Doctor Summers, aren't you? Doctor Anne Summers?" he asked, catching Buffy's hand in both of his and shaking it reverently.

Buffy stood, as did Angel. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, pulling back her hand.

The man smiled widely. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Of course you wouldn't remember me. I was at Yale the year you lectured there. I took all of your psychology classes, and I read both of your books. Fascinating. I've always wanted to tell you how intriguing I've found your concepts about the human conscience to be. Absolutely stunning work. I'm Geoffrey Hollander, by the way."

"*The* Geoffrey Hollander?" Willow asked, abruptly standing up. "As in the author of ‘Start At the Beginning' and ‘Tell Me No Lies'?"

"Yes indeed," the man answered, smiling tolerantly at Willow before looking back to Buffy. "Have you perhaps heard of me, Dr. Summers?"

"Uh, yes, of course," Buffy said a bit too quickly. "Very interesting."

Hollander glowed. "I'm so pleased that you think so. All of my theories are based upon the ideas I read in your books. Perhaps we could get together some time and discuss them - over coffee, perhaps?"

A slightly glazed look came into Buffy's eyes. "Well, um, I'd love to, but, um -" She looked to Angel desperately.

Angel took pity on her. "Unfortunately, Buffy and I are about to leave the country. Why don't you give her one of your cards, and she'll get in touch with you later?"

Hollander looked down his nose at Angel, which was rather comical considering that he was a good six inches shorter than the vampire. "Who are you?"

"That would be her husband," Xander answered smugly, setting his cup down.

The man at least had the grace to blush. "Yes, well, nice to meet you, Mr. Summers. Perhaps, Dr. Summers, I could have your virtual address and contact you in that manner?"

Buffy didn't like the way other people in the restaurant were starting to look in her direction. "Yeah, sure," she said quickly, then reeled off Willow's address. "It was nice to see you. We'll talk soon. Bye now."

After a few more ‘fascinating's and ‘deeply interesting's, the man went away. Buffy slouched back into her chair with a sigh. "That was weird. I didn't know anyone actually read that crap I wrote. . . "

Willow looked to Giles. "Was he evil?"

"Probably not in the strictest sense of the word," Giles answered, amused.

"But Buffy, how come none of us ever realized how ‘fascinating' you are?" Xander teased.

Buffy looked to Angel. "You. Me. Ireland. Tomorrow."

Angel grinned. "Fascinating, Dr. Summers."

The Slayer looked to Mari. "Help. . ."

"You are deeply interesting, Dr. Summers," Mari answered. "Do you have any infinite wisdom to share with us?"

"You know I said we'd go tomorrow? I changed my mind," Buffy told Angel. "We're going tonight."

"Um, actually, while we're on the subject of you leaving, I suppose I should tell you that I got a message today," Willow said reluctantly. "I was going to wait until later, but I guess now's as good a time as any. Wesley's looking for you."

Angel looked confused. "Wesley?"

"Yeah, Wesley. You know - tall, dark haired, screams like a woman," Xander answered. He signaled the waiter that he wanted more coffee. "Wesley the wimp, the moron, the idiot -"

"The head of the Watcher's Council," Willow tartly finished for him. "Wesley Wyndham-Price. My boss."

Angel glanced at Buffy. "I thought you didn't work for the Council anymore."

She grimaced. "Well, it's not quite that simple. I don't actually work for them. . . I work *with* them. Occasionally. Sometimes."

"As little as you must," Mari suggested.

"In a word - yes," Buffy agreed. The waiter appeared at her shoulder, but she waved him away. "The Council and I - we have a deal. They don't bother me except when it's important - very important - and I show up when they call me."

"Sometimes," Willow added.

"If you're not otherwise occupied," Giles included.

"And if you think it's important enough," Mari said.

Buffy looked at them. "Anything else?"

"If Wesley says the magic words?" Xander guessed.

"Being sarcastic there, Xan," Buffy told him. "I haven't heard from the Frog Prince in almost a year. Okay, I've heard from him," she admitted quickly when Willow started to protest. "But it wasn't important, and I was busy."

Angel laughed. "Well, I guess since you're not busy now, you'll go to see him?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright. Wanna come and torment him with me? I'll be fun, I promise."

"We'll see," Angel said, knowing he would accompany her. He remembered the rumors she had told him about members of the Council believing she had outlived her usefulness. He didn't want her going anywhere near them without someone to watch her back.

"Hey Will, isn't this that song you like?" Xander asked.

Willow - and everyone else at the table - paused to listen closely to the music. The band was plating a soft, gentle song that was pulling couples to the dance floor like a magnet.

"Oooh, yeah, it's the new one by Southern Lights - ‘Your Turn'," the red-haired woman said excitedly.

Xander smiled lopsidedly at her. "Wanna dance?" Together they threaded their way to join the other couples.

"Is he going to do one of his bizarre little dances?" Angel asked Buffy.

She laughed. "Nah. They do the sophisticated, all-grown-up dances now. You know, with regular steps and everything. Those funky dances he use to do at the Bronze wouldn't really go with his Wall Street image."

Mari looked at Giles. "You know, I've never heard of the group Will mentioned."

Giles shrugged. "Neither have I, but it is a nice song. Shall we?" He extended his hand, which she quickly took.

When the two were gone, Angel slanted a look at the woman beside him. Would she like to step onto the floor with him? She had once, a long time ago, but she was different now. Now she strenuously avoided public displays of affection, going so far as to express reluctance to even hold hands while walking down the street.

But she was looking at him expectantly, hope reflected in her hazel eyes. "I remember how to dance, you know," she hinted gently.

So he smiled, stood and linked her arm through his, and led her to the dance floor, where he took her in his arms and she laid her head on his shoulder, and they danced as they had long ago, so long ago, and it was if they had never parted.

It was well past eleven the next night when the pair made their way to the meeting with the head of the Watchers' Council. They made their way without incident through the great city, pausing only once for Buffy to stake a vampire that had the ill luck to cross her path.

"How did you get Wesley to agree to meet you at this time of night?" Angel wondered as he helped her brush the vamp-ash from her jacket.

"Did I get any in my hair?" she countered, brushing at her neck. Some things never changed. "Nope, guess not. Wesley doesn't get to pick the time we meet, just the place. That's part of the deal."

"The you-call-I-come deal?"

"The very same." They proceeded on their walk and she added, "And don't you know, he never chooses the same place twice. One time it's a warehouse, one time it's a bar. Now we're headed for a park. A park, of all places."

Angel halted. "Why aren't we going to the Council's offices or something? I know they have at least one building in this city."

Buffy stopped beside him. "Of course they do. It's miles away from where we're headed. He doesn't think I know where it is. Paranoid little frog."

"You know where it is," Angel said, half asking, half stating.

"Of course." She grinned. "Willow told me the moment she found out."

The park was hardly more then a sandbox with a swingset. Set in the lower part of town, it contained only two or three trees and a small space of patchy grass. It was also badly lighted, having only one dim streetlamp to drive away the darkness.

Buffy glanced around the area and cursed. "I can't see him."

Angel could see fine in the dark. "He's over there on the right. And he's not alone."

"He never is, the wimp," she snorted. "Can you tell how many are with him?"

He counted. "Six or seven others." He shot her a speculative glance. "Is he afraid of you for some particular reason?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I threatened to kill him once, but I wasn't serious. I said I was sorry. Besides, he usually only brings one or two friends. Oh well, this will still be fun."

Together they strode forward into the dim light.

"Hey Wes, guess who's here," Buffy called, looking directly to the spot Angel had told her he stood waiting. "And look - I brought a friend too."

"So I see." The head of the Council emerged from the shadows, his subordinates in tow. He looked much as Angel remembered he had, give or take twenty pounds, a few facial wrinkles, and a receding hairline. He was still stiffly proper in his dark suit and tie - a practice both the four men and two women in his group also followed.

Wesley walked forward until he stood only a few steps away from the pair his people stopped only a pace or two behind him. "It's been a long time," he said, looking at Angel. "I would have thought you'd been staked by now."

"I thought you'd be a janitor by now," Angel returned. "Guess we were both wrong."

Wesley glanced at Buffy. "I suppose he's on your leash again? Better be careful he doesn't slip off and go for a walk without you. We certainly wouldn't want that to happen."

Buffy laughed. "How do you know that hasn't happened already?" She casually slipped her arm around Angel's waist. He draped an arm over her shoulders and smiled down at her.

They were rewarded with a flash of uncertainty in Wesley's eyes and a murmur of unease among his people. "Angelus," one of them whispered. And another asked, "Has he turned her?"

"No," Wesley said sharply, glaring at the pair. "They're playing off your fears. We'd be dead by now if they were evil."

"Tell me, Wes, do you still scream like a woman?" Angel asked, making Buffy laugh.

Wesley was not amused. "Enough chatter. There's a pair of chaos demons down at Killanger Port." He reeled off an address. "They're hiding out in some abandoned warehouses there. I advise you to be careful they've killed two Watchers."

"Which is why Watchers watch and Slayers slay," Buffy said lightly.

"Yes, well, you haven't done much slaying lately yourself. Been busy with other things, I suppose," Wesley sneered.

Buffy gave him an annoyed look. "You got the money?"

Reluctantly Wesley took a small sack from one of his subordinates and handed it to her.

"Small bills?"

He nodded, looking faintly ashamed. "British currency. Lord, this is such a disgrace -"

"Why, because you're not my master and I don't follow your orders for free?" Buffy snipped. "Or because I don't but into the ‘sacred duty' thing anymore?"

"The Council has always taken more than adequate care of you," he began haughtily.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. . ."

"We got you out of the war!"

"And I do *so* appreciate getting shot in the gut and being forced to leave my people -"

"Your people -!"

"That's enough," Angel said, stepping between the Slayer and Watcher. "Back off," he told Wesley. He didn't understand what the two were fighting over, but there was no doubt with who he sided.

Wesley glared at Angel, then looked to Buffy. "Kill the demons. Get yourself killed if you wish, makes no difference to me. It may even save me a little trouble. I'm sure the next Slayer shan't be as difficult as you." He spun on his heel and stormed away, the other Watchers shooting nervous glances at Buffy before quickly following him.

"Little toad," Buffy muttered, watching them walk away. "Little arrogant toad." She looked at Angel and sighed. "That wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be. I must be slipping."

"What's with the cash?" Angel asked, gesturing at the cloth sack she held in her hand.

"Oh." She smiled. "My fee. I quit working for the Council a long time ago, you know, but there are just some things that only a Slayer can do. After the war, we worked out this deal where I do what has to be done, but I get payed. That stops him from calling me everytime his shadow scares him."

"Makes sense." Angel was tempted to ask her what her ‘fee' actually amounted to, then thought better of it.

"It's roughly six thousand US dollars," she told him, guessing his thoughts. "Wanna come with me to deposit it?"

"Are banks open this time of night?"

She smiled wryly. "The one I use is.

Part Two

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