He sat up straight in bed, gasping for breath and shaking like a leaf. Immediately Buffy was at his side, whispering words of comfort into his ear and holding him until the tremors ceased. This was something Angel had not gotten used to, the physical reactions to his common nightmares. It had become a sort of ritual with them, whenever Buffy's mother was away she would stay at his apartment, and therefore she was used to his dreams and the aftermath; besides, she had her own experience with nightmares.

"You okay?" Buffy asked after a moment.

Angel took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before nodding. "I'm fine," he whispered, trying to shake off the disturbing images. It was hard; they were crystal clear in his mind.

"I don't think you are," she replied, staring at him with concern shining through her eyes. "This is the third one tonight, Angel."

He shrugged slightly, not wanting to talk about it. The latest dream from which he had just awoken was different from the others, and had shaken him more deeply than the others. He had seen Buffy lying on the ground, dead by his hands, or, rather, his teeth. Those horrific marks frightened him more than anything else had the power to, and seeing them on Buffy had rattled him beyond words. "I'm fine," he repeated, lying back down on the bed. Buffy curled up against him and propped herself up on her elbow, still watching him intently.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Angel nodded. "Yeah," he answered shortly, not wanting to get drawn into a conversation with her at the moment.

She decided to let the subject drop and relaxed against him, closing her eyes. Within moments she was sound asleep, snoring softly against his chest. He watched her for a moment, then kissed her forehead gently before sliding out of her embrace to get out of the bed and walk towards the kitchen. His throat was dry and, much to his amusement, he'd found that only soda could satisfy the still present desire for the taste of blood. While he no longer needed it certainly, blood had a certain taste to a vampire that was rich and full of all the flavors of life. Soda was a surprisingly accurate imitation.

Returning to the bed a few minutes later, he found that Buffy had not suffered in his absence. Instead, she had stretched out across the bed, curling her arm around his pillow instead of him. Angel shook his head in affection and headed towards the couch.

"You look tired," Xander commented affectionately as Buffy skulked into the library the next morning.

"Exhausted is more like it," Buffy muttered, sinking into a chair gratefully. "Actually no, exhausted falls short.," she added, rubbing her eyes.

"Good, you're here," Giles said, coming down the steps and looking far to awake for Buffy's tastes. "Ready for your train . . . " he stopped when he saw the glare she directed his way and instinctively took a step backwards when she stood.

"Giles," she started, "I am not ready for training. I've trained non-stop for the past three weeks, and don't give me that 'I thought you needed more practice' line, Angel already admitted the truth. Since I have proven that I *don't* need any more, shut the hell up, or I will practice. On you. Extensively."

"Um . . . all right," Giles finally replied, turning to head back into the stacks and away from his irritable slayer. Buffy watched him go then put her head down onto the wooden table and yawned.

"Maybe you should go home," Xander suggested, looking at her with concern. Buffy shook her head.

"No," she answered. "I've already ditched school twice this week, I don't need Snyder calling my mom when she gets back. Besides, I think I can manage to stay away for six measly little hours."

"Actually, I have my doubts," Xander replied, then turned when Willow walked into the library. "Hey, Will," he said tentatively. Xander had noticed an increase in the tension between the two of them, and was utterly clueless as to why.

Willow hardly spared him a glance. "Buffy, what's wrong?" she asked immediately when she got a look at her friend.

Buffy looked up and yawned again. "Nothing," she muttered. "I've never been better. Really." Willow and Xander both raised their eyebrows and looked at her skeptically. "Okay, okay, I feel sick, I'm cranky, I'm irritable, I'm tired of Angel never talking to me about anything, I'm tired of Giles trying to get me to train more per the recommendation of said Angel and, most importantly, I'm just plain tired. Happy?"

"Not really," Willow said after a moment. "Why don't you go home?"

Buffy rose from her seat angrily. "Go home?" she repeated. "Xander just told me that, and I'll tell you the same thing I told him, I can't go home. So shut up!"

Willow blinked, looking slightly taken aback. "Oh-kay," she said tentatively.

Buffy sighed. "I'm sorry, Will. I didn't mean to take my bad mood out on you . . . I'm just having a really bad day so far."

"We hadn't noticed," Xander commented dryly.

"I think you might be right," she said after a moment, to them both. "Maybe I should just go home today, sleep . . . " she sighed again, wistfully. "Sleep," she repeated, yawning once more and falling back into the chair she'd been seated on earlier. "God, sleep, it sounds so . . . so strange. Isn't it a strange word? Sleep? I mean what is sleep, anyway? Is it when you have your eyes closed? How does one decide what sleeping is?"

"Buffy, go home," Willow said softly, watching her and looking slightly concerned for her sanity.

"You haven't slept all weekend?" Xander asked at the same time, also looking concerned for her sanity.

"Oh no," Buffy replied. "I've slept. At ten minute intervals. Sleep ten minutes, be up ten minutes, sleep ten minutes, be up ten minutes, it's almost a new routine for me."

"How come?" Willow queried.

Buffy shook her head, not wanting to tell her friends that she'd been at Angel's the entire weekend, and not feeling comfortable telling them about his nightmares. "Not important," she muttered, standing again. "I am going home. I'll just tell my mom I was sick or something."

"I don't think she'd doubt it," Xander commented, smirking.

Buffy glared at him weakly, then turned and left the library, leaving Xander and Willow alone. "Well," Willow said, "I gotta go to class."

"No!" Xander protested, grabbing her arm. "No. Will, what's wrong?"

Willow raised an eyebrow delicately. "Nothing's wrong, Xander. Why would anything be wrong?"

Xander shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "It just . . . it seems like you're mad at me or something."

Willow snorted unattractively. "Mad at you?" she echoed. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Well, I'm not," she replied shortly, shaking her arm free of his grasp and hurrying out of the library. Xander watched her go and shook his head in confusion, wondering what her deal was.

Buffy heard the phone ringing as though it were many, many miles away and she moaned irritably, wishing that it would just end. Finally, after ten rings, the answering machine clicked on and she sighed in relief. "Hey, Slayer," a voice rang through, causing Buffy to sit upright in bed as recognition came to her. "You there?" the voice continued.

Buffy leapt from the bed and to the phone in one single, graceful movement, and picked it up, growling into the small plastic instrument, "What do you want, Spike?"

"It's what you want, Slayer," Spike replied. "You really ought to get an unlisted number," he continued, "you're making this far to easy."

"So sorry," she drawled dryly. "Okay, what do I want?"

"Your boyfriend," Spike answered, sounding smug. "Of course he won't be your sweet little Angel much longer but, well, little technicalities."

It took a moment for the words to register through Buffy's still sleepy brain, but when they did she sank against the counter for support. "What are you talking about?" she whispered.

"Personally," Spike continued, ignoring her, "I didn't want to do this. Ya know, Angelus is such a bastard, I thought I could spare you more pain. But Dru insisted, and she said this counts as her birthday present, so I figured what the hell? I can deal with a few insults."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked again, a dangerous note in her voice that would have sent a lesser vampire cowering in terror.

Spike laughed, instead. "I'm talking about bringing your little Angel back over to our side," he clarified. "I make him into a vampire again . . . no more soul."

"We've been there and done that, Spike," Buffy replied, fighting to keep her cool. "What's the point?"

"Well, Dru already figured you'd say that. You can't protect him constantly, Buffy, and now that he's human he doesn't have the strength to fight us. You make him human again, we'll bring him back over again, hey, I have no problems with it if you don't."

"It would kill him," she whispered weakly.

"Probably," Spike agreed. "But, well, what's romance without a little excitement?" With that Spike hung up the phone and Buffy immediately dialed Angel's number.

The ringing went on in her ear for a very long time. "Come on, pick up!" she begged aloud, silently praying that he'd be there and Spike's threat was just that . . . a threat. No sound greeted her prayer; she did not hear the comforting sound of Angel's voice picking up, and lord knew Angel wouldn't waste money on an answering machine. After several more rings Buffy hung up the phone, grabbed Angel's leather jacket off the coat rack, and broke into a run for Angel's new apartment.

"Giles, what are we going to do?" Buffy asked, her voice sounding distraught with pain and panic as she looked up at her watcher. She'd arrived at Angel's apartment to see the tell-tale signs of a fight, but no Angel to be found. She'd immediately gone to the library and was sitting there now, at nine p.m., Willow and Xander by her side.

Giles took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a long moment. "I'll call Jenny," he said, and left for the telephone. As soon as he was gone Buffy laid her head down on the table and began to cry softly.

"Buffy . . . " Willow whispered, staring at her with concern. Willow could not remember ever seeing Buffy so upset.

"Spike's right," she answered softly. "I - I can't protect him. And not just from Spike . . . Angel must have a hell of a lot of enemies in the vampire community." She lifted her head and wiped at her eyes, emitting a soft whimper that had Xander by her side with a hand on her shoulder a second later.

"It's okay," Xander said reassuringly. "Angel can take care of himself," he reminded her.

Buffy shook her head. "No, he can't," she said weakly. "He doesn't have being human quite down yet . . . he's certainly not strong enough to protect himself . . . if Spike hasn't turned him yet." She wiped at her eyes a second time and stood, suddenly furious. "It's so unfair!" she shouted. "Why? Why can't we just be happy, just for a . . . just for a little while?" There was a plaintive note in her voice as she looked at Xander, her eyes pleading with him to make it all better, to make all the pain go away. Xander, unable to, just wrapped his arms around her and let her cry, feeling a strong sense of deja'vu as he remembered the last time she had been like this, when Angelus had delivered his message to her via a dead classmate.

"It'll be okay," he whispered to her gently, smoothing her hair with his hand. Buffy shivered, remembering Angel doing the same thing, hugging her and whispering words meant to comfort.

"What am I going to do?" she asked, sniffing and looking up at Xander with watery eyes. "I don't . . . I don't know how to stop this."

"You'll think of something," Xander said softly against her hair, "you always do."

Buffy sniffed and looked up at him again. "But never when it counts. I need to be strong . . . Angel is gonna need me to be strong . . . but I don't know how to."

"You'll figure it out, Buffy," Xander replied gently. "I know you will."

Giles looked up at her and offered a weak smile. "I'm afraid it's rather a long story," he started. "However the short version is that Spike has turned Angel into a vampire again."

Jenny looked slightly taken aback for a moment, then shrugged. "So . . . I'll make him human again."

"Why don't you just do that with every vampire?" Giles wondered.

"It's hard to explain. With Angel it's different, since he was once cursed by gypsies it permanently binds him to all Romani. It doesn't matter if he has a soul or not, casting a spell upon him is far simpler now than it would be to do so on any other vampire, with any other you would have to capture them and have a full circle," she explained, seeing the light of interest spark in Giles' eyes.

"No," Buffy said, interrupting. All eyes turned to stare at her in confusion. "No," she repeated. "You can't . . . you can't make him human again."

"What?" everyone chorused in unison.

"You can't," Buffy whispered. "That's part of Spike's plan, if we do that he'll just turn him into a vampire again . . . you . . . you can't."

"But Buffy if I just curse him with a soul again . . . there'll be no way to make him human. It's two different spells entirely . . . he'd permanently remain a vampire unless he lost his soul," Jenny said, "then I could make him human again, but . . . "

"Can you take that part out?" Buffy asked. "The happiness clause, or whatever?"

"Well, yes, I could, but . . . Buffy there'd be no way to make him human," she repeated. "Ever again. I mean . . . " Jenny sounded at a loss, trying to figure out Buffy's reasoning. Buffy sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "It's suicidal," she said softly. "He . . . he needs to be able to defend himself, or he'll die." "Buffy," Giles interrupted. "I really feel that this is Angel's choice to make . . . not yours." She nodded. "I know it is," she replied. "That's why I'm telling you not to make him human again. I know what he'd choose." "Buffy!" Giles said again, staring at her with wide-eyes. She shook her head again. "No, Giles. I . . . this is how it has to be. I won't let him commit suicide . . . I won't. Curse him with a soul, and leave it there." Willow and Xander both looked slightly shocked as they stared at her in disbelief. But there was no room for argument in Buffy's expression, absolutely none. She had her mind made up about this. "This is . . . this should be his choice," Giles said again. "I don't care," she replied, a certain coldness to her voice. Jenny's mouth opened but no sound came out for a long moment. "Are . . . Buffy, are you sure?" she asked finally. Buffy nodded. "Absolutely. Do it." "I . . . I don't know if I should," Jenny whispered. Buffy stood suddenly, her eyes flashing. "You owe me," she hissed. "You were sent here to spy on me, remember? We put our trust in you and you betrayed us. All of us. You owe me," she repeated. "I also owe him," she replied. "And what you're proposing . . . it's as much a betrayal as anything I've done." "I . . . don't . . . care. Do it. Now." The tone of Buffy's voice was every inch the Slayer, violence flashing in her eyes as she stared the computer teacher down. It was Jenny who looked away. "Alright," she said finally. "I . . . I will. But Buffy . . . " "Now," Buffy said again. Jenny closed her eyes and nodded once, shortly. "Fine," the gypsy said icily. "I'll do it. But . . . " "I am not going to let him die," she interrupted. "Whether he would want to or not makes absolutely no difference to me. Cast the spell." "I have to go home," Jenny said. "My . . . that's where my books are. I'll do it there." "Don't stab me in the back again," Buffy whispered dangerously. "Do what I've told you to do." Giles opened his mouth to protest the tone in the Slayer's voice, full of deadly intent and authority, then closed it. This wasn't his battle, and he had no right to interfere. This was between the Slayer and the Gypsy, and he knew Buffy would win. He closed his eyes for a long moment, realizing the pure depths of betrayal in what Buffy was proposing Jenny do. He had a feeling things between Buffy and Angel would never be the same after this. "I will," the technopagan said coolly. She turned on her heel and left the library, the door slamming together with the force of her exit. "Buffy," Giles started as soon as she'd gone, whirling on her. "Do you have any idea . . . ?" Buffy's lower lip trembled, the force of the Slayer gone now that she had gotten her way. She collapsed back down into the chair and nodded slowly. "Yes," she said, knowing exactly what Giles had been about to say. "Yes, I know, and I do have every idea. But I . . . Giles, I can't live without him. I can't." Giles looked very disappointed with her, and that alone caused a single tear to spill down Buffy's cheek. She knew very well just how selfish she was being. "I have to go," she said, and, with that, turned and ran from the library. ***** "Have . . . have you heard from Angel yet?" Willow asked tentatively, knowing this was a dangerous topic to bring up to Buffy. Three weeks had passed, and no one had heard a word from Angel as far as anyone could tell. He'd moved again, leaving Buffy no way to contact him. Buffy looked up from her lunch and shook her head, looking pale and slightly ill. "No," she replied softly. "I . . . I don't expect to, either." "I'm sure you will," Willow said gently, trying to be comforting. "He probably just needs some time." "He has all the time in the world thanks to me," Buffy said softly, obviously regretting her decision and not regretting it at the same time. "He . . . Willow, Angel's not going to forgive me. Ever." "You haven't even talked to him," Willow reminded her friend. "Would you?" Buffy asked, sounding slightly annoyed. "Would you forgive me for what I've done? I might as well be Spike, Will. I . . . Giles was right, I had absolutely no right to make that choice. None. But I did . . . I chose my selfish need to keep him alive over what he'd want. That's not something you can forgive, Will." "Buffy . . . " Willow whispered, shocked by the depths of pain she saw in the Slayer's eyes. Buffy shook her head weakly. "No, Willow," Buffy said softly. "He has every reason in the world to hate me. And I'm sure he does." The Slayer stood, leaving her lunch on the table, and walked away from her friend and the comfort she offered. ***** Under a blackened sky far beyond the glaring street lights sleeping on empty dreams, and vultures lie in wait. You lay down beside me than you were with me every waking hour so close I could feel your breath. When all we wanted was the dream to have and to hold that precious little thing. Like every generation yields the new born hope unjaded by their years. Pressed up against the glass, I found myself wanting sympathy, but to be consumed again, oh, I know would be the death of me. And there is a love that's inherently given, the kind of blindness offered to appease in the light of forbidden joy oh, I know I won't receive it. When all we wanted was the dream to have and to hold that precious little thing. Like every generation yields the newborn hope unjaded by their years. You know if I leave you now it doesn't mean that I love you any less it's just the state I'm in, I can't be good to anyone else like this. When all we wanted was the dream to have and to hold that precious little thing. Like every generation yields the newborn hope unjaded by their years. -- Sarah McL, 'Wait' Fumbling Towards Ecstasy