Opening my eyes, I blink against the faint rays of sunshine coming through the loosely pulled drapes. My skin is sweaty and I turn over, the heavy weight of Angel's arm sliding down to my belly. His eyes are closed, and I watch him for a moment, in sleep, as I have every morning for the past four days.

His lips shine slightly from my lip-gloss, and they are bruised with kisses, swollen from long moments between my legs, as I screamed, and gasped. My throat aches and I swallow, remembering the taste of him in my mouth and the wet trail my tongue left when I traveled down his body, exploring the world of him through kisses. I suppose that's what the last days have been about. Re-discovering each other. Getting to know the animal side that was denied to us when I was seventeen and he was a monster in sheep's clothing.

After he left me, I began to mistake sex for love. Told Riley he knew me best. Made buildings fall with Spike, and all the while, lost little bits of myself in men who sought only to make me forget about Angel.

((I wanted to know what you felt, with Angel))

((Bet he couldn't make you scream, could he Slayer?))

Danny didn't know, and didn't really ask—and that was a blessing. Yes, there were people in my life that still remembered (bygone days of musty libraries and rain that bred Angelus), but they forgot, and soon, so did I. I lived my life as Buffy Walker, swelled with child, wept over bloody underwear, clothed celebrities, kissed someone goodbye each morning, and ended up a widow.

I had normal for a while.

But I've never been able to keep anything good, for long.

Angel yawns, and reaches out, drawing me deep into the sweaty-sweet warmth of his embrace. My breasts are crushed against his chest, and I pant a little, stricken as always with a pulse of desire by his nearness. He kisses me with his eyes closed, and then opens them, gazing at me seriously. “Why are you always awake before me?”

I shrug, tangling our legs together. Softly, I kiss him, tasting buttered popcorn and musk. “I like mornings.”

“I think that would surprise some people,” he answers lightly.

I nod. “Mornings haven't exactly been kind to me, I guess.”

“But that's why you like them,” he replies, and I look at him, surprised. He continues quietly, “Because they can't shock you anymore. You figure you know them like the back of your hand by now.”

“Am I that easy to read?” I question ruefully, wrinkling my nose.

He shakes his head. “No, but I do know some things about you. Like that you love Belgian waffles. Want me to make some?”

I smile at the tiny dig about knowing my favourite breakfast and shrug. “No, stay with me a little longer.”

Snuggling down in the blankets, he tugs me fully into his arms and smoothes the fringe of hair back from my forehead. “Forever,” he whispers and I stiffen.

“Didn't we agree that we're putting an ixnay on the promises?”

“Buffy…”

“I just want to pretend, Angel,” I cut him off. “Don't make this complicated.”

“Pretend what?” he murmurs. “Pretend that I don't love you? Because you know I do.”

My breath hitches. The room is hot. Too hot. Shifting, I feel my thighs stick to his from our sweat and cry low, “Don't say things like that. I can't…”

“Can't what?”

Silent for a few moments, I finally swallow and move, rolling away from him. “I can't believe in it again. Nothing ever works out. There aren't any happy endings. And I'm tired of pretending there are.”

“Maybe the happy ending isn't so important,” he sits up and curves his arms around me from behind, holding me gently against his chest. I feel his breath against my neck and try not to arch back into the haven of his embrace. “Maybe it's what you do with the time you *do* have, Buffy.”

“What are you saying, Angel?” I whisper. “You want us to take another crack at being a normal, shiny-happy couple? Cause it didn't work out too well the first time, did it?” “Buffy,” he kisses the back of my ear. “There wasn't any first time—oh…” trailing off, he lets go off my body and gets up, walking over to the window, faint rays of sunshine playing over his naked form. I watch dispassionately as he mutters, “You remembered.”

Sighing wearily, I hug my knees to my chest and nod. “I remembered a long time ago.”

“When?” he inquires quietly, and I can tell he's frightened. He wasn't expecting this.

“In Heaven,” I answer without hesitation. “It gave me a lot more than just a safe and happy home. It also gave me a host of memories to take back to Hell with me.” Shrugging bitterly, I twist the sheets between my fingers. “So, yes, I remember the day you were human. I remember life without Dawn, and life *with* Dawn. Pretty confusing, isn't it?”

“I'm sorry,” he breathes out huskily.

“Don't be.”

“How can I not be?” he asks roughly, his hands cupping my shoulders as he forces me to look at him. Our eyes lock and burn and I feel myself shudder. “You remembered what we could have had and then…”

“And then we saw each other and you blew me off?” I finish and grin wryly. “I'll accept sympathy on that point.”

“Stop trying to make this into a joke,” he replies immediately, kneeling down beside the bed, his hands sliding down to grasp my waist. He doesn't say anything for a long time and then he gazes up at me, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek. “How did we get so lost, Buffy? How do you get to be in love as we were and then just… drift apart?”

“I'm pretty sure someone in the relationship has to move to LA and get married,” I answer without inflection.

“Will you ever forgive my letting go?” he asks, half angrily, half sadly.

“I forgive it,” I say softly. “But I don't think I'll ever understand it.”

“How can you say that?” he rakes a hand through his hair and then grips the side of the bed, leaning close. “You got married too, Buffy.”

“I know,” I sigh, and thread our fingers together like pieces of a puzzle I'm trying desperately to solve. “And don't think we weren't happy—“ Tears sting my eyes and I blink them back, staring over his shoulder to a place he can't see. “We were. I loved him *so* much. But it was different. I… I dated him for two years and we were happy. I mean, we were happy… how often does that happen in Buffy Summers' world?” He smiles at my dry comment and nods at the truth of it. “Not often.”

“Spike told me once that he liked seeing me happy…” I pause. “But that was a lie. He never really did. He liked it when I was bad- when I was treating him like my bitch. Kicking him around.” Thinking for a moment, I shake my head. “We were such a fucked up couple. For a long time I thought I had really loved him and that I made a mistake breaking up with him—“

“Buffy…”

“I know, I know- stupid.”

“Not stupid,” he says gently. “Just… confused. Spike isn't worthy of you and never has been.”

Patting the place on the bed next to me, I then watch him sit down, leaning against the headboard. Crawling onto his lap, I cuddle against his bare chest and murmur; “I had a point somewhere in that big, huge tangent. That Spike never liked seeing me happy. Riley only wanted to see me madly in love with him, worried about him. But Danny… he liked me smiling. So I did. A lot… and soon, it just became normal, you know? I became that happy Buffy person that I always wanted to be.”

“I've met that girl,” he whispers gruffly against my ear, and drops a kiss on my head. I know he's referring to the day of ice cream and sunshine and I smile sadly.

“I guess you have.”

+ + +

Cradling the phone against my ear, I whip up the cream for the strawberry cheesecake I'm making and smile as Anya snarls, “And I told Xander, if he's going to be out there supervising the work all day, the least he could do was come home and satisfy me sexually at lunch time—“

“Fascinating,” I interrupt. “He must have been so pleased.”

“Actually, he wasn't as pleased as I thought he would be,” Anya tells me, sounding a little put out. “He got this funny look on his face and wouldn't talk for a while.” She pauses, “of course that could have been because his co-workers were nearby.”

Choking back a giggle, I shrug, pouring out some vanilla extract and adding a touch more sugar to the ivory mixture. “Maybe you embarrassed him, An.”

“It isn't as if we don't talk about sex *all* the time,” she mutters. “I don't see what the difference is if people are around.”

“I didn't think you would,” I reply affectionately. “How's the little tyke, by the way? Displaying any demonic tendencies yet?”

She laughs a little. “He's just like his Dad. Which may not be a good thing.”

“No, a little Xander is of the good. Besides, kids make things nicer.” Thinking of Connor (never used to think of him. But now his father is back in my life and I can't avoid it any longer) for a moment, I peek around the corner, watching Angel talking to Willow and Tara as Katie sits on his knee. She took to him immediately, and for the last hour has been using his body as her personal jungle gym. He doesn't seem to mind though, and occasionally tickles her, making her shriek with laughter. Sighing wistfully, I murmur, “A lot nicer. And a lot harder too.”

“Yes,” Anya agrees. “Sometimes he cries at night. I make Xander get up, but he says I have to as well. I don't see why. After all, I went through all that pain to have him, why should I get up at *night*? I'm still tired.”

Laughing, I spread the graham cracker crust at the bottom of the dish and then add the cream cheese, quickly spreading it with a hot, strawberry and jelly mixture. “I see your point. Maybe you guys could do an alternating thing.”

“I suppose so,” she lets out all her breath in a huff and then I can almost hear her smile over the phone line. “How is it there? It's lovely and warm here.”

“Sweaty and gross, thanks,” I reply, placing cold strawberries on top of the jelly. “Maybe I should come and see you sometime soon.”

“That'd be nice,” she squeals. “Extra work for me, of course. But Alex and Xander would like to see you.”

Grinning at her bluntness, I then add the whipped cream and sprinkle some sugar over top. “I have to go, An. But I'll think about it. Tell Xand I'm sorry I missed him.”

“I will,” she replies. “If I don't forget.”

“How reassuring. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

Still smiling (Anya does that to me), I place the cheesecake on a tray with a pot of coffee and a plastic container of juice for Katie. Walking out to the back deck, I accept their help with the tray, laying it on the table and distributing the food and coffee with Tara's help.

“Willow was just telling me Dawn called them last night,” Angel informs me, lifting Katie in the air gently. The little girl smiles at him and bounces on his lap, her little pink skirt twirling around her.

Touching Angel's face, she murmurs, “Pretty.”

I laugh. “She's *already* in love with you, you bastard?”

He flushes. “I'm a novelty, I'm sure.”

Willow shakes her head. “Her heart, once won- is won forever.” Smirking at him, she raises her eyebrows. “You've got a life-long admirer. Better not-- *go* anywhere.”

“Willow,” Tara admonishes quietly, and I sip my coffee, not commenting.

Angel regards my oldest friend steadily, finally responding with a firm, “I'm not planning on it, Willow.”

She grins, nodding. “Didn't think so.”

“How's the cake?” I finally break in.

“Excellent,” Angel smiles slightly at me.

Katie climbs off his lap and walks unsteadily over to me. Lifting her into my arms, I regard her seriously for a moment, finally pursing my lips and wrinkling my nose at her, which makes her laugh. Pecking her downy soft cheek, I enfold her in my embrace, where she stays contentedly, and begins to eat the strawberries off my cake. “What did you say about Dawnie, Angel?”

“She called us last night,” Willow breaks in, and shrugs. “At one of her book signings- she ran into Cordelia. Small world, isn't it?”

My chest feels tight, and I look down. “Certainly is. What else did she say? Still shacked up with our favourite Big Bad?”

Tara reaches over to buckle one wayward strap of one of Katie's sandals, and looks at me pensively. “I think so. She mentioned that he was coming over for dinner last night. It doesn't seem too serious, Buffy.”

“It had better not be,” I answer without any real rancor.

“Don't worry. Even *I* had those kind of thoughts about Spike. It passes,” Willow puts in and I blanch, glaring at her.

“Did I say I *wanted* to know about your—fantasies about Spike?”

“I wouldn't call them fantasies, exactly,” she teases me, “more like full blown movies with surround sound and—“

“Stop!” I cry, giggling. “You realize people can *hear* you, right?”

Tara glances at her lover with a slight upward curve to her generous mouth. “Oh, don't worry about me Buffy. I know all about it. Adds spice, doesn't it baby?” Stuttering only slightly, she looks down at the ground. “Of course *you* two don't want to know about that.”

“You'd be right,” I reply sardonically, and then inquire; “What else did Dawn say? I swear, it's been weeks since she's called me.”

“Just that she hopes you're ok,” Tara says and then looks quickly at Angel. “And that she—“

“She wants a goodbye before you leave again,” Willow finishes, rolling her eyes. “She always was a bit of a brat, wasn't she?” But I can see the challenging note in her expression. She doesn't trust Angel (can I blame her? I'm not even sure I do)

Angel half smiles and then does the smallest and yet most important thing. He reaches across the table and links our hands. I feel his palm press against mine and suddenly we're a couple—we're a couple *in front* of people. We haven't been for such a long time. His eyes gaze into mine and I stare (god, I'm drowning), and then nod. He nods as well and turns back to my friends. “I'm not going anywhere that would require me saying goodbye to Dawn. Tell her I'd be happy for her to come visit though. I haven't seen her in a long time.”

“I'm sure she'd like that,” Tara says softly, always the peacemaker.

“I think she would too,” Willow adds, and then our eyes meet and she winks at me.

I remember her shudders of withdrawal, and her coffee-induced twitches in High School and the “bitch” about Riley's wife and the way she loved Danny and am once again thankful that she's on my side. Looking down, I notice that Katie's asleep and motion to Tara, who croons quietly and lifts the little girl onto her chest.

“Go say goodbye,” Angel murmurs to me, pressing a quick, hot kiss on the back of my neck. “I'll clear up.”

“Thanks,” I answer weakly, already feeling the trembles of desire in my belly.

When I come back after seeing the girls off, all the dishes are stacked in the sink and he's sitting out on the porch, on the swing, with it's huge, navy awning. Staring up at the stars, I sit down beside him and mutter teasingly, “I thought you were going to do the dishes.”

“Later,” he whispers, and suddenly kneels in front of me, dipping in for a kiss and then spreading my legs with his large, strong hands. Shuddering, I feel my back settle into the curve of the swing, as he tugs down my panties with his fingers, lifting my skirt and baring me to his gaze.

Angel bends, dragging his tongue – just once- down my hot center and as I struggle with his belt, he helps me, drawing down the zipper and sliding up and into me in one smooth motion. Trembling, gasping for breath, I see the stars spin crazily as he moves, his head against my breasts and the throbbing of his heart starting between my legs and traveling throughout my entire body. He slams into me with all the force of a thousand yesterdays we never had, and I bite my lips, tasting crimson as I try to keep from screaming.

“Love- love---“ he bites off between clenched teeth his hands cupping my face. “For—forever.”

Remembering whispered words from a rainy night too long ago, I let my eyes shutter closed as the spasms rock both of our bodies, and the night melts into any inky black blur.

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