When I wake up I feel sticky and my skin is aching. Then I remember. The hungry ocean, Angel's soothing fingers coated in aloe vera, the quiet sobs as I drifted off to sleep.

Rubbing my forehead, I sit up and groan protestingly. My flesh is red and angry, and it stings. “Hey,” Angel says softly as he comes in the room, rushing forward to help me as I sit up.

“My hair hurts,” I groan inanely and he half smiles.

“I know, love. The doctor's said you were very burned…its going to take a day or two for the Slayer healing to kick in. How about a cool shower?”

That sounds scary. Oh God, water scares me now? Geez, I have to get a grip. I'm supposed to be a freakin warrior. “Ok,” I reply and then realize I won't be able to do it on my own. “Can you help?”

He doesn't sigh or look annoyed. Just smiles tenderly, and nods, lifting me from the bed as carefully as he can. It kills, but I don't care. When he holds me is the only time I feel safe. Setting me down on the tiled bathroom floor, he turns on the shower and begins to adjust the temperature, making sure it's as lukewarm as possible. As I struggle with the sweater I have on, he takes over the job for me, removing it gently, and then bending down to slide my underwear down my legs.

Tears prick my eyes. I don't deserve him. He helps me into the shower. The cool water is a shock and as it hits my inflamed flesh, it makes me yelp in pain. But soon, it's coursing over me like a wonderful balm, and I lean against the wall. Angel opens the curtain a little, not looking at me. “Do you need help?”

“Could you wash my hair?” I inquire in a small voice. I hate not being able to do things for myself, but at the same time, I yearn to be taken care of. He sits me down on the side of the tub and pours some shampoo onto his palm, dipping his fingers in my hair that smells of seawater and fear. Massaging my scalp, he pours some more until his hands are consumed in a frothy lather, and my nose picks up the scent of him in the shampoo, clean and fresh.

“Angel?” I say dreamily.

“Yeah?”

“I'm gonna need you to help me…I have to call a meeting with the Council.”

His hands don't still, but I feel his tension. “Buffy, are you sure that's what you want to do?”

“Yes,” I reply firmly, and sway backwards a little, lulled by the rhythm of his fingers. “I have to talk to them. Juliet isn't giving me the full story, I'm sure of it.”

“Buffy…” he trails off, hesitant. “We have to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“Meaning?”

He sighs, and I know he knows I'm being deliberately obtuse. “You…going out into the ocean like that…Buffy, if that surfer hadn't been there…”

“I know.” But I really don't. For a moment I wonder if it would be so bad if I died. Really. And what's the big deal? Slayers aren't exactly known for their long life span. Doesn't Angel get that during any routine patrol I could bite it simply from an error in judgement? I don't think he does. For some reason, the vampire I love has never understood that my time could be over at any moment.

The truth is that he used to have me on a pedestal and I liked it up there. I was sixteen years old, and I was blonde and fresh and naïve and I never would have believed that someone like him could fall for me. Why would he? Secretly, I used to wonder if it was all a sham, that he really didn't know me. Cause if he did…wouldn't he realize that I'm flawed just like everyone else? Wouldn't he realize that I don't actually want to be a Slayer…I want to be normal? But I loved the pedestal, I felt like a Princess, I felt new. It was nice, being loved like that…someone think you're special. I never got it, but I loved it. It makes me ashamed now. To think I used to feel that way.

“Are you mad?” I ask him, and hear his strangled half-laugh, half-groan.

“Am I ever mad at you?”

“Yes,” I snap back, and he begins to pour water over my head, my scalp is tingling pleasantly from his healing fingers. “Besides, you have a right to be…what I did was stupid. It was wrong…”

“Buffy…” he doesn't know what to say, I can tell. “I can't really talk…cause I've tried a few stupid things in my day as well.”

That makes me want to laugh. “So I guess we're both part of the suicide club now, huh?”

“Yeah,” he sobers. “But the difference is…you saved me. I wasn't there to save you.”

Oh. Now I get what that emotion is in his voice. Guilt. He feels guilty for not being able to save me like I saved him. He feels guilty for not being there to hold my head above water. “It's not your job anymore,” I remind him softly.

“Buffy, it's always going to be my job…don't you see that yet? Look at me…washing your hair…I want to look after you…”

He's making me angry, which isn't good. I can't help it though. Parts of me want to laugh because I'm sitting here naked, with my ex-boyfriend, who is tendering to my salty wounds like he never left me. Parts of me want to scream, because he's talking like he never left and it makes me furious. And other parts of me want to weep because it's me now that needs saving and I'm not used to that.

“You can't have it both ways,” I inform him stiffly, and my eyes open to a cascade of water as he rubs my hair, removing the shampoo slowly. “Are we together or are we not…cause seriously, this arrangement sucks.”

“Sucks,” he repeats in a blank tone, and stands back as I get up and rinse off the last of the soap. Turning off the water, he envelops me in a huge towel, lifting me into his arms and I realize that nothing about this sucks, because he's holding me and taking care of me and I love him all over again.

“Maybe sucks is too strong a word,” I recant and look up at him as he takes me into the kitchen. “Maybe…its just…confusing?”

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees and begins to make tea. Oh man, are we ever playing house. “You want to define what we are Buffy…” he pauses and throws an amazingly large amount of sugar into my mug. “When we've never clearly defined it in the past. When I came to LA…I was convinced that I had made the break—“

“You were?” I had to interrupt him, before what he said cut me straight to my already fragile bones. “That quick huh? Wow, am I easy to forget…”

“NO!” he cries, hastening to reassure me as he sets down the cups and I take a hasty sip, feeling the shockwave of the milky tea hit my blood stream. “It wasn't easy…and I never forgot…I just bore it. Because I had to. I knew I could never give you what you need. I guess we all have our different ways.”

“Yeah…” he's looking at me with those deep dark eyes and I realize now is the time to tell him about Parker. I don't want to, because it will stir up emotions that might be better laid to rest. But, still, it needs to be said. “Um…Angel…I don't know how much Spike told you…”

“Buffy…” he begins to protest but I silence him, laying a gentle finger over his mouth.

“Don't…it's all right. Look, after you left, I needed to forget. That's all I wanted to do. Forget you existed.” I see the flash of sorrow across his face, but I plunge on, because not saying this would hurt more than saying it will. “So I jumped right back in there…with this guy. We basically hung out and then on our first date…I slept with him.” His face is completely blank and his eyes are studying a point above my head. I can't even imagine what he must be feeling, but I know this needs to be let out. “It wasn't about him, at all. It was about…trying to put you out of my mind. I kept thinking, 'wow, look at me, with someone else'…'look at me, moving on', 'look at how this is not about Angel…” I pause and smile wryly at myself. “That's when I knew I had to leave. I was on the edge…maybe I still am…but you have to know- I am so sorry—“

“Buffy!” he exclaims, and appears horrified. “You don't have anything to be sorry for—“

“Yes I do…for cheapening our relationship that way…God, I might as well have taken out a full-ad proclaiming that I'm on the rebound and will sleep with any guy that takes interest…”

He half smiles and covers my hand with his. “No…don't think of yourself that way. Look, we weren't together then…”

“Are we together now?” I ask, and feel like I should be holding my breath. His eyes flash and he looks momentarily confused and sad and in agony, and I feel my stomach cramp because I know that look.

“I can't promise anything…” he says helplessly. “I can't promise you a future, Buffy…but you know I will always love you, and be here with you…to fight whatever battles need fighting.”

“Ok…” tears are blinding me and I can't see, and my skin hurts from being stretched across my weary bones, and it's a strain to even look in his direction. “I see.” What else can I say? He groans and reaches for me, but I jerk out of reach. “No…this isn't going to be easy for you…” I choke on a sob as my body rounds on him. “You can't hug me and then say there's no future…cause with us…just being in your arms…that's where I see the future…Angel…”

He's weeping openly and he sighs heavily. “I can't…put you through what I did before, I can't hurt you…”

I don't say anything, because what do you say to someone who doesn't understand that you don't mind the pain…as long as you're together? What do you say to someone who just doesn't get how important and beautiful and life-saving they are to you? What do you say to someone who used to be a brutal murderer in another life and now doesn't feel like they deserve to be loved?

Nothing. So that's what I say. Nothing.

~~~

From: R_Giles@hotmail.com
To: Buffy16@hotmail.com
Subject: (none)
Date: January 13th 2000

Hello Buffy,

I must confess to be completely confused with this entire e-mail business. But Willow has helped me get started and so I wanted to write a quick note to ask how you are getting on.

I hope your mother is well, and that your classes are interesting.

Now, as for what you told me over the phone, I am just as shocked and perplexed as you are. The Council never mentioned this prophecy to me, but I have been researching extensively and I'm quite sure I will come up with some sort of confirmation soon. As for what you mentioned about calling a meeting with them, remember, Buffy, these are ruthless individuals. Don't make them angry, and please don't antagonize them. Angel should most definitely go along with you for support.

Please call again if you have any more news, and I will keep in touch. We all miss you, Buffy, and wish you well.

Giles

~~~

From: WiccaSister89@hotmail.com
To: Buffy16@hotmail.com
Subject: Hey
Date: January 15th 2000

Hey Buffy,

Well things are boring around here. As boring as they can be, I guess, on the Hellmouth. You should have seen Giles on the e-mail, all nervous and confused…too funny!

Classes are going ok, and Tara and I have been doing a lot of interesting spells. I can't wait for you to meet her, Buffy. She's just the greatest person I know. We get closer every day.

I wasn't sure…but I thought I'd mention the prophecy thing…I'm so sorry, Buffy. But I wouldn't believe a word of what that Juliet said anyway! Maybe she's lying. She could be, you know. Big LIAR! Sorry. Giles has had us in full research mode, of course, anything to help you Buffy. I hope you and Angel have been able to work things out…?

I miss you a lot and every day I think of you. Pretty sappy, huh? Well, I just was thinking back to the days at High School and realized that even with all the crap that happened…we still managed to have fun together. I need my Buffy…please come visit soon! Although, I know you're busy there with the big bad Council coming down from England. Let me know how the meeting goes!

I was thinking of Oz the other day and realized that it was the first time in a week he popped into my head. I'm not over him and I don't think I ever will be. I just wonder if he'll ever come back.

W

~~~

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Calm down.”

“No, seriously…this was a huge big fat mistake…forgive me? Oh God…”

“Shh…” Angel half smiles and rubs my arm. “Take deep slow breaths. Remember, you don't work for them, they should be working for you.”

“Yeah,” I look up at him with eyes that I know are huge and terrified. “But I fired them so technically I think that working relationship is over.”

He's trying not to laugh, although I know he's not looking forward to facing the Council either. When I called them, they were overly anxious to come down, and that makes me nervous. Because the Council has never wanted to oblige me before. Oh, God. Nervous disgusting flutters in my stomach make me feel inadequate, not how I want face my former bosses. Damnit. I forget myself and fling myself into Angel's arms. He grasps me tight, and I breathe him in and everything fades away. I love it here, in the circle of him, with my hands gripping fistfuls of his shirt, and his arms holding me close.

“Excuse me, are we interrupting something?”

Oh, yuck. It's Quentin Travers, which I know before opening my eyes. He's got a gravely voice that sounds like he's permanently munching on some glass he won't swallow. It annoys me to no end. Pulling away from Angel hastily, I face him an regard the five or so more he has brought along. “Wow,” I begin sweetly. “Thanks for the turn out. Sit down.”

Quentin gives me a stern look, and an amused one. He always looks upon me like I'm some creature he doesn't understand, but which he's fairly certain he could squash like a bug. “Ms. Summers,” he says slowly, and ignores Angel. “We've come as you asked.”

“With bells on, I see,” not able to contain myself from mocking him. “So…lets get down to business, unless you want to have some polite chit chat first?” When he says nothing, I nod. “Ok then. Juliet. Who the hell is she and why did you hire her to watch me?”

Quentin appears to consider this and then clears his throat; “We didn't.”

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