%%%

            “Hello?” Giles picked up the phone at the magic shop.  He was on his way out the door when it rang.

            “It’s me,” Elise said.  Giles could hear the sounds of traffic in the background.  “She’s back, and with Cordelia.”

            Giles closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer of relief.  He did not want to have to go chasing all over Southern California looking for a heartbroken slayer.  He knew he shouldn’t be worrying about her, especially since he had his own slayer to look after, but he knew, better than most, just how tenuous the bond between Wesley and Faith was, and he knew that something like domestic disharmony was not an affair the other Watcher was likely to involve himself in.

            “Thank you,” he said, and hung up the phone. 

            Not that he was one to meddle with his slayer’s love life, either.  The Englishman rubbed the bridge of his nose, staving off the headache that wanted to form when he thought about Buffy’s various romantic attachments.  No, he wasn’t about to play Eros for Faith, but he was willing to do what he was trained to do, which was taking care of slayers. 

            He lifted the phone and called Cordelia’s number.  “Faith, it’s Giles,” he said to the machine.  “Call me if you need to talk,” he added softly, hating the idea of talking to a machine, but knowing he needed the young woman to hear his message.

%%%

            Freshly showered, Spike lay back on Aliz’s leather couch, listening to the soothing sounds of the Sex Pistols.  “God Save the Queen” screamed into his ears through the headphones he had put on, effectively cutting him off from the rest of the world.

            The events of the night still loomed large in his alcohol-swamped brain. 

            Once he and Aliz had eaten, the woman had cajoled him onto the dance floor, using every opportunity to rub against him seductively.  At first, Spike had thought that maybe she was trying to distract him so she could get away, but he soon came to realize that his employer was just plain drunk. 

            He had danced with her.  Alizelle was a beautiful, intelligent woman – and he was just William the Bloody.  How could he not dance with her? 

            Spike had heard all of the stories associated with the half demon and her Seelie Avatar lover – anyone who had hung out with the Unseelie court of Faerie had.  Yet somehow, the woman and the myth were two different things.  For example, legend held that Alizelle was a twitterpated idiot, without the sense of a gnat.  The bleach blonde vampire snorted.  He knew from experience that Aliz was as smart as a whip, and didn’t fear using her brains to get whatever she wanted.

            Of course, the fact that she was book smart didn’t mean squat when it came to the emotional thing, which was where Spike thought perhaps some of the stories were true.  Look at today, for example, and look at how the bloody woman had handled telling Angel’s pet slayer that she was her daughter.  Faith had definitely not taken the news well, Spike remembered.

            The back door to Caritas had slammed open, sending a lurking Spike sprawling out into the debris of the barroom.  Faith, followed closely by Cordelia, had stormed through the building, collected the rest of the Angel Investigations crew, and taken off without so much as a fare-thee-well.

            “Well, it looks like young Miss Gloom-and-Doom has had an education today,” Lorne, the Host of Caritas, said drunkenly.  The green skinned demon turned a bleary eye on Spike, who was picking himself up from the pile of broken tables and chairs.  “You, on the other hand, haven’t learned when to catch a clue even when it’s spread out on a platter with a golden invitation.”

            Spike rolled his eyes and walked up to the bar.  “You got anything besides riddles and bad breath hiding back there, or do I have eat you to get drunk?” the blonde vampire asked snappily.

            “Ooh, butch and touchy.  I like that in a man,” Lorne swept his gaze up and down Spike’s leather-clad form.  “And you do leather so, so well, honey.  But let me just lend you a clue-by-four:  You are one wanted man.”

            Just then, Aliz slipped into the wrecked bar.  She walked over to Spike, her face a mask of indifference, but the vamp could smell the pain radiating off of her in waves.  What surprised him was the fact that he didn’t enjoy it.  Usually, the pain of others made him feel wonderful.  It was an aphrodisiac – a prelude to some of the best times he had experienced with his soulmate and sire, Drusilla.  Now, however, it only made him feel slightly ill, and rather irritated.

            “Take me home, Spike,” Aliz ordered softly. 

            Lorne gave Spike a rather pointed look, but the blonde vampire ignored it in favor of grabbing a bottle of whiskey from under the counter.  Saluting the Host with the bottle, Spike took Aliz’s arm and headed for the door. 

            Aliz flipped open her cell phone and spoke softly into it, ordering her driver to bring the car around close to the building.  Spike felt something akin to fondness then – at least she cared enough about him to see that he didn’t fry!

            Now he held up the half empty bottle of whiskey again, saluting the general direction of Caritas.  Then he took a long swig, sighing in pleasure when he was done. 

            Aliz, fresh from the shower, came out in time to see him take his drink.  She said something and he shrugged, and then pulled the headphones away from his ears.

            “What’d you say?” he asked sullenly.

            “I said, didn’t you get enough of that earlier?” she said, disgust plainly evident in her voice.

            Spike sneered.  “Apparently not,” he replied, and then finished the bottle with a flourish and a belch.

            Alizelle rolled her eyes and wandered into the kitchen, where she began to work on fixing something to eat.  Spike put the headphones back on and closed his eyes to nap.

            The sharp, coppery tang of blood jolted him upright and out of the couch.  The headphones landed on the floor, broadcasting the tinny sound of punk rock as they bounced over the carpet.  The vampire’s nose twitched.  He looked into the kitchen and noticed that Aliz had her hand cupped close to her chest, a towel wrapped around it.

            He sniffed again.  It was blood, but not blood as he had come to associate with either Humans or Demons.  This blood was rarer, sweeter, and stronger; this blood was special, like a vintage wine.  Drawn by the siren’s call of the thick, crimson fluid, Spike stepped into the kitchen and pressed against Alizelle’s back.

            “Cut yourself, did you?” he asked softly, need and desire choking his voice.

            Aliz sighed.  “Yeah.  It’s just a flesh wound. Nothing I can’t handle,” she said in an emotionless tone.

            Spike brought an arm around the half demon to cradle her against him.  “Let me take a look,” he pled softly.

            Aliz nearly jumped at how hot his skin seemed to feel against hers.  He was usually as cold as ice, but right now, he was like a furnace.  She looked up into his eyes, and some of the desire she had allowed herself to feel earlier returned.   His hand covered her hand, pulling it away from her chest.

            “I just want a look, pet,” he promised.  Aliz could not tear herself from his eyes as he pulled the towel away to reveal the tiny slit across the palm of her hand. 

            Three tiny droplets of thick, burgundy blood welled up.  Spike nearly moaned at the heavenly scent.  Slowly, he brought the hand up to his face and sniffed. 

            Aliz chuckled nervously.  “Uh, is this some kind of weird imitation of a Klingon mating ritual, because if it is – oh!” the rest of her statement was lost as Spike gently slipped his tongue along the cut, sweeping away the blood.

            An incredibly deep growl of lust welled up from the vampire’s chest.  “More,” he said as his features blurred.  “I must have more.”

            “Spike, what, I…” Aliz tried to say, but there was something so compelling, so wonderful about the way he held her against him, begging with his transformed eyes for a taste of something so incredibly her.  Not even Stefan had wanted to share blood.  What if he doesn’t understand what he’s asking for? A tiny, rational voice inside of her asked.

            “I owe you a kiss, luv,” Spike said, remembering her earlier, drunken request.

            I don’t know if I care right now, Aliz thought, moved by the desire to feel anything but the emptiness that had threatened to consume her since the encounter with Faith earlier.

            “Yes,” she said breathlessly, “you do.”

            Spike smiled cockily, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it.  Then, she felt his mouth part and the slightest pull as he began to gently suckle the cut.  Aliz ran her free hand through the short hairs at the nape of Spike’s neck, gently encouraging him. 

            Only a few moments had passed when the half demon began to pull her hand away.  “Not too much, darling,” she said thickly. 

            Aliz’s blood burned through Spike, setting his body and mind on fire.  He wanted her, he needed her, and he had to have her!  “I’m burning,” he whispered suddenly.

            “I know, I’ll take care of you, Spike,” Aliz promised, twisting her hand out of his now powerless grasp.  Quickly, she cradled his hand in her own and used the nails of her other hand to make a shallow cut along the vampire’s wrist.  Golden yellow liquid welled up and Aliz bent her head down, to taste it. 

            Pleasure exploded through Spike as Aliz drank from him.  “Bloody hell,” he whispered in awe at the sensations the half demon was wringing from him.  It had never been like this, never.  Not even Dru had made him burn like this. 

            Spike growled again, tearing his arm free of Aliz’s mouth and pushing her against the wall.  He was on her moments later, kissing, pressing against her feverishly.

            Aliz wrapped her legs around Spike’s narrow hips and calmly said, “Take me to bed, Spike.”

%%%

            Anya was brushing her hair while Xander was getting his clothes on when she said, “Have you heard anything back from the construction company, dear?”

            Xander finished buttoning his shirt and walked over to drop a kiss on his girlfriend’s head.  “Yeah, I talked to them just before we left.  They’re assigning me to the carpentry group.  I’m going to be an apprentice!” he said happily.

            Anya squealed with joy and leapt up to hug her boyfriend.  “That’s wonderful, honey!”

            They hugged for a few minutes, and then parted when there was a soft knock on the door.  It was room service, bringing in their breakfast. 

            The two lovers sat across from each other at the table, eating and sharing shy smiles.  Anya was the first to speak.  “You know, I’ve really had a lot of fun here, Xander.  But I didn’t see any magic at all in this kingdom,” she added with a pout.

            Xander stood up and walked around the table.  Once he was behind Anya, he let something dangle from his fingers in front of her eyes.  It was a gold chain with a simple heart-shaped pendant.  There was a diamond floating in the center of the heart.  Anya gasped and looked up at him.  He smiled gently and said, “Magic?”

            She nodded wordlessly as he clasped the necklace around her neck. 

            “I love you, Anya Christina Emerson,” he said softly, brushing soft kisses over her mouth.

            “Mm, I love you too, Xander Lavelle Harris,” Anya replied, leaning into the kisses.  “But if you don’t stop that, we’ll never check out of here in time and if we don’t check out of here in time, it will cost us more money to stay here and this place is very expensive!”

            Xander chuckled, “You are very right, my sweetybuns.”  He kissed her once more and then sat back down to finish his breakfast. 

            “So… do we have to go home right away, or can we do a little more sightseeing?” Anya asked softly.

            “Did you have some place in mind?” Xander replied.

            Anya giggled.  “I want to see that sidewalk with all the people’s names in it, and then I want to see that theater with the footprints…” Anya spent several minutes listing all the highlights of Los Angeles she would like to hit before they headed back up to Sunnydale.

            Xander smiled indulgently, “Sure hon, we can see some of those places.”

            They left the hotel at just after noon, after Anya had taken the time to have mouse ear hats made for the rest of the Scooby gang.  “I want to see Giles in one of these,” she confessed to a startled Xander.  “And the only way he’d ever put it on is if the rest of us were wearing one.”

            “Do I want to know why you want to see your boss in mouse ears?” Xander asked good-naturedly.

            Anya grinned mischievously.  “Well, I suppose if I took a picture of it, then I’d have something to use to keep him in line, now, wouldn’t I?”

            Xander cackled gleefully.  “You, my love, are wonderful.  I’ll make sure to get some film.”

            As they left the hotel gift shop, Anya suddenly stopped, her face going white with fear.

            “What is it, honey?” Xander asked, slipping his arm around her to prevent her from falling over.

            “I just saw a pair of D’Hoffryn’s personal guards.  They were dressed for a Blood Hunt.  This is bad.  This is very bad.  He must have decided that I’m too dangerous to keep alive.  Oh, this is bad.  Honey, I love you, but I really must be running now,” Anya babbled, but her feet were glued in place.

            “Shhh,” Xander soothed.  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.   Just walk slowly with me to the car.  We’ll get in and we’ll go very quickly to Angel’s place.  I’m sure he’ll be willing to protect us until we get this sorted out, okay?”  The young man projected all the calm he could, but inside he was just as scared as his lover was.  He was no slayer, nor was he gifted with super strength or fantastic martial arts abilities.  Oh, sure, he had the memories of an officer in the army, but most of that had to do with weapons, munitions and some basic hand to hand brawling.  Nothing likely to work with a couple of assassins.

            The lovers made their way to Xander’s car without incident.  Xander reached into the glove box and got out the card that Cordelia had mailed him for his birthday.  Inside was a business card that had the address for Angel’s new office.  He grinned at the silly sentiment of the card as he read the address and tried to picture it in his head. 

            It was one of those amazing little things Xander had discovered about himself over the years.  He couldn’t get lost.  Ever.  Sure, he might bumble around and sure, he might be as clumsy as a drunken clown, but he could find his way anywhere.   With the destination now firmly in mind, he started the car and headed off for Angel Investigations.

%%%

            “Mail call,” Willow’s voice echoed down the hallway.  Buffy and Amy poked their heads out of their room and waited gleefully.

            “Anything for me?” Buffy asked impatiently.

            Willow examined the stack of mail in her hand.  “Nope, sorry, Buff.  But here’s something for you, Ames.”  She handed the student a small envelope and headed down the hall, sliding a stack of mail under Xander and Anya’s door.

            “Whatcha got, hon?” Buffy asked curiously, trying to look over Amy’s shoulder without success.

            “I don’t know,” Amy said absently, tearing open the letter carefully.  “There’s no return address,” she added, turning the envelope over to look at it.

            Plain handwriting spelled out her name and address, but that was it.  It was postmarked from Livingston, Montana.  Frowning in confusion, Amy pulled out the letter and turned back into their room, reading as she walked.

            Buffy watched her lover read the note, Amy’s gentle features shifting from amused boredom to pained stillness in the space of a heartbeat.  Quietly, the blonde slayer wrapped an arm around her girlfriend while she read. 

            When she was done, Amy handed the letter to Buffy and buried her head in her hands, crying softly.  Holding Amy close, Buffy held up the letter and read.

            Dear Amy;

What can a man who has made more mistakes than a faulty typewriter say to take away the pain that he has laid at the feet of those he is supposed to love?  I know not the words, so I’ll have to settle for this.  I am sorry.  I should have been a better father, a better man, to you in your time of need. 

            These last few months have taught me much, Amy.  I have traveled far, yet I seem to be just starting on my journey.  I hope that wherever your road takes you, it leads you to happiness. 

            I love you, honey.    

                                                                                    Dad

            “Oh sweetie,” Buffy whispered, dropping the letter to pull Amy into her lap. 

            “He doesn’t hate me,” Amy whispered, putting to voice the secret fear she had held since her father had walked out of her life, almost a year ago.

            “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Buffy murmured into Amy’s hair, rubbing her back.

            Amy sniffled and clutched at Buffy’s shirt.  “I really want my daddy to love me, Buffy.  I don’t have anyone else but you.”

            Buffy held her tightly and said, “You have all of us, honey.  We will always be here for you.”

            “I love you, Buffy,” Amy said through her tears. 

            “I love you too, Amy,” Buffy replied, brushing several kisses across Amy’s reddish blonde hair. 

            After a while, Amy sat up and rubbed her eyes.  She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.  “Do you think Cordelia and Faith will work things out?” she asked, referring to their conversation before Willow had brought the mail.

            Buffy looked over at the computer screen.  E-mail from Cordelia was open, the terse words speaking volumes about the typist’s emotions.  Amy had shown the mail to Buffy only because the student felt that the blonde slayer might be able to talk some sense into her darker counterpart.

            “I don’t know, Ames.  I mean, Faith’s got to make her own decisions, you know?” Buffy hedged.  She stood up and went over to the weapons locker to begin preparing for patrol.

            Amy returned to the desk and started to type out a response to Cordelia.  “I know, but it just sucks that they’re apart.  Cordelia and I have become kind of close, and I know what it would feel like if you left me.”  Amy’s last words came out with a quaver and Buffy was by her side instantly.

            “I won’t be leaving you, so you don’t have to worry about that,” the blonde slayer said reassuringly.  She put a hand on Amy’s shoulder, and Amy reached up to cover it.  Their fingers entwined loosely.

            “Good,” Amy said, tipping her head up for a kiss.

%%%

            “Greece?” a full color brochure landed on the bed in front of the recumbent young woman.  “Europe?” another one joined the first.  “Or the British Isles?” a series of several pamphlets hit the bed.

            Willow looked up at Tara and grinned.  “Well, I guess I know what your choice is, don’t I?”  She fingered the colorful paper absently.  “Any of these places would be wonderful, honey.  But are you sure we can, like, go?  I mean, I’d hate to leave Buffy in the lurch without her practitioners of Witch Fu.”

            Tara sat on the bed next to her lover and reached over to sift her fingers through Willow’s dark red hair.  “I think that we can go,” she said slowly, knowing that she had to phrase this carefully.  “The auguries we cast did point to the summer being nice and dull.  Also, you and I both agree that Amy and Anya have done rather well in the magickal department.  Mr. Giles is no slouch, either.”

            Willow leaned into Tara’s touch, imitating their cat, Spaz’s purr perfectly.  “I like that,” she whispered as Tara’s fingers traced lower, dappling light designs over the hacker’s back.

            “Hedonist,” Tara accused her lovingly. 

            “You bet!” Willow agreed enthusiastically, reaching up to drag Tara down for several kisses.  The brochures got a little crumpled while the young Wiccans expressed their love and enthusiasm for each other. 

            Afterwards, Tara was curled up on Willow’s stomach, smiling brightly as Willow looked through each of the pamphlets, silently reading about each of the exotic destinations.  Finally, Willow put the brochures aside and looked down at her lover.

            “Honey, I don’t know.  I can’t make the choice now.  Do I have to?” she asked in a slightly whiny voice.

            Tara blew lightly across Willow’s bare stomach, making her lover giggle in reaction.  “Of course not.”  She slid up the bed to lie next to her beloved.  “What do you want to do, then?”

            Willow looked deep into Tara’s eyes and grinned.  “How about we go for a nice, long, ride on that beautiful bike of yours?  I hear there’s an ocean around here somewhere…”

            The blonde Wiccan giggled.  “You know, I think you’re right,” she said, slipping out of the bed and pulling her skirt and blouse off.  She walked over to the closet and picked out some more appropriate clothes. 

            Willow avidly watched Tara dress, causing the blonde to blush deeply.  Once Tara was dressed, Willow hopped out of bed and found her own riding clothes.  Tara returned the favor, and watched while Willow changed.  Willow chuckled and wiggled her hips, turning the simple activity into a seductive dance.

            “If you keep doing that, we’ll never make it to the ocean,” Tara pointed out in a low voice.

            Willow looked over at her lover, who was giving her the serious “come hither” stare.  She weighed the pros and cons, and decided that she really did want to go for a ride.  “I’ll be good,” she promised, buttoning up her jeans quickly.  “For now,” she added, turning away to remove her bra.

            Tara’s grin got a whole lot bigger at that.

%%%

            The bell above the door to Pandora’s Box jangled noisily.  Giles looked up from his accounting and smiled as Joyce came in and shut the door behind her.  She held a covered dish and a thermos in her hands.

            “You didn’t come home for dinner,” she accused with a fond smile, setting her bounty down on the counter.  “So I brought it to you.”

            “Thank you, Joyce,” Giles said, laying his pen down on the ledger and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.  “I had lost the time,” he said, reaching for his cup of cold tea.

            “Don’t drink that,” Joyce slipped the cup out of his hand and tossed the contents out the door.  “Here,” she said, walking back over to the counter and opening the thermos, “try this.”

            Giles accepted the hot cup of tea with a warm smile.  “Shall we move to the table?  It might be more comfortable.”

            Joyce served up two plates of chicken casserole.  “It’s not Le Cirque, but I’m sure it’s palatable.  At least, Buffy and Amy didn’t complain,” she added, grinning shyly.  What was it about this man that made her feel twenty again?

            Giles returned the smile, tucking a napkin into his collar.  “I’m sure it’s just fine, Joyce.”  He dug in, content to eat slowly and look up at her across the table every so often.  So this is what it feels like to be a proper teenager, with all of the accompanying hormones?  I must remember to apologize to Buffy for making light of her youth.

            Somehow during the course of their meal, their hands had snuck across the table to entwine.  When they noticed, they each coughed and blushed, but did not release the other’s hand.

            “I feel like such a kid,” Joyce finally said nervously.  “I’ve been dating you for months, now, Rupert, and yet, it still feels so new.  I hope there’s nothing lingering in that silly candy!”

            Giles laughed weakly.  “I quite understand, Joyce.  I too am experiencing some youthful trepidations whenever I am around you.”

            Joyce looked around the shop and grinned.  “This is usually where Buffy says, ‘Ew, gross,’ and we feel ashamed for being so public about our affection.”  Their eyes met.  “I’m glad Buffy’s at home,” she said, slipping out of her chair and walking over to Giles’ side of the table.

            Giles coughed and removed the napkin from his shirt.  “I agree,” he said, standing.  He reached a hand out to her.  “Dance with me, Joyce?”

            “I’d be delighted, Rupert,” Joyce replied, stepping into his embrace. 

            Giles concentrated, whispering a few arcane words.  In the back room, a radio clicked on, playing a soft jazz tune.  They began to dance around the room, laughing delightedly in the other’s company.  Giles talked about his day in the shop and Joyce talked about hers at the gallery.

            Outside, a passerby stopped to watch the couple and smiled.  It was wonderful to see that much love in Sunnydale.

%%%

            Faith stood outside of Cordelia’s door, waiting for her lover to explain to Dennis that she wasn’t the enemy.  Dennis, Cordelia’s overprotective ghostly roommate, was given to a long memory and a short temper when it came to anyone hurting his mortal friend.  In fact, on several occasions, Dennis had been the one to “assist” Faith out the door before Cordelia’s temper caused something to be damaged.  Now the spirit was refusing to let the dark haired slayer back into the house, something that was not amusing to Cordelia, who only wanted a shower, her slayer and her bed.  In that order.

            “Dennis,” Cordelia drawled the ghost’s name angrily.  “Let my girlfriend in, or so help me, I’ll have Father Demetrius out here by midnight!”

            The threat did nothing to ease up the force holding Faith out of the house.

            “Den, listen, I’m sorry for being such a royal pain in the backside, but I’m going to change, I swear,” Faith whispered.  “She’s everything to me, you stubborn assed ghost, and I will go through hell before I hurt her again!”

            The pressure eased up and Faith was allowed inside. 

            “I accept your promise,” ghostly words threaded through Faith’s mind.

            The slayer smiled weakly and dropped her backpack on the couch.  She stretched and sniffed.  “I reek,” she declared, causing Cordelia to giggle and nod in agreement.

            “We both reek.  I’m taking a shower while you make something to eat, okay?” the seer smiled sweetly, pleading with her big brown eyes.

            Faith sighed, but waved her hand toward the bathroom.  “Shoo, go, it’s five by five.  Food coming right up,” she promised lightly.

            Cordelia skipped off to the bathroom while Faith stripped off most of her clothes and then scouted out the kitchen for food.  Three boxes of Chinese take out, a box of old pizza and a container of something unidentifiable later, the fridge was nearly empty and the trash was full.

            “Didn’t you eat, Sweet cheeks?” Faith asked softly, shaking her head at the barren shelves.  “Guess I can do cheese omelets then,” Faith decided, taking out the last of a dozen eggs and a small brick of sharp cheddar.

            Cheese omelets quickly became “scrambled eggs with cheese” when Faith couldn’t get the eggs to flip like she had seen Cordelia do with them so many times in the past.  Toast was easy – she just had to remember to pop the toaster before the bread started to burn.

            While dinner cooked, Faith played the messages on the answering machine, smiling fondly when she heard Giles’ halting voice. 

            “You old sap,” she said, touching the machine lightly.  “I know you’re just trying to be Watcher of the Year, but I don’t care.  Maybe you can help me patch things up with Wes, hey?” she asked the machine, which didn’t answer.  “Well, at least the mirror gave me a chance to start that, anyway.”

By the time Cordelia came out of the shower wearing a white cotton terry cloth robe and toweling her hair dry, Faith was setting the table.

            “You cooked?” Cordelia asked in mild shock as Faith served up her portion of eggs and toast.

            “I can, on occasion, be moved to kitchen creativity,” Faith said wryly.  “Though my artistry extends mainly to eggs and oatmeal,” she admitted after sitting down.

            As they ate, their feet kept sneaking out and tapping the other’s legs.  Each time that happened, they would look up, grin goofily and go back to their meal.  Finally, Faith finished her plate, stood up and said, “My turn in the shower.  You can do the dishes,” she grinned and laughed at Cordelia’s mock growl.

            Faith took the fastest shower of her life, not wanting to miss one second with her lover now that they had kissed and made up.  She found Cordelia curled up on the couch, the television on and the remote hanging from a sleepy hand.  The slayer smiled tenderly and reached out to gently shake her tall lover’s shoulder.

            “Cordelia,” she sang softly, “Oh Cordelia, you’re breakin’ my heart, you’re sleepin’ so peacefully.  Cordelia, oh Cordelia, please wake up now, cuz I’m a wantin’ ya.”  Faith drew a finger lightly down Cordelia’s neck, raising goosebumps wherever she touched. 

            “Mm,” Cordelia stretched sleepily.  “Are you propositioning me, Slayer-mine?”

            The finger continued down Cordelia’s chest, slipping under the robe to tickle the flesh hidden there lightly.  “If I am?” Faith challenged, raising one dark eyebrow.

            Cordelia reached up and grabbed the edge of Faith’s towel and tugged.  “Then let’s move somewhere more comfortable!”

            Faith bounced up so quickly that the towel fell, exposing the slayer’s nude form.  She was just about to the entrance of Cordelia’s bedroom when she heard a stifled sigh of sadness.  Wondering what she had done now, Faith turned to look at Cordelia.  A stark, open look of shock and hurt covered the seer’s face, slicing into Faith like a knife.

            “What is it, babe?” Faith whispered tentatively, trying to project calm and love at her girlfriend.

            Cordelia was suddenly there, in her personal space and turning her around.  Long, tapered fingers gently traced the network of scars that webbed across the slayer’s back.  “What happened?” the seer asked, her voice choked with tears.  “You’ve never said anything about these and I’ve wondered and,” Cordelia drew in a shuddering breath, “And I want to know, because I don’t want any more secrets between us, Faith.”

            Faith shook, struggling to fight off the memory.  Through gritted teeth, she said, “My adopted,” she spat the word, “mother threw me through a plate glass window when I was a child.”

            Warm arms encircled her, holding her close.  Warm lips brushed the top of her damp head.  “That is the most horrible thing I have ever heard and if I could, I would walk right up to that woman and force feed her demon slime!” Cordelia said fiercely.

            The anger that had welled up just drained away, replaced by love and laughter.  Faith turned in Cordelia’s arms and kissed her.  “When did you become my bodyguard?” she teased, undoing the ties to Cordelia’s robe.

            Cordelia growled and stole several tender kisses.  “About when you started, oh,” she gasped as Faith’s fingers found sensitive skin to stroke.  “Doing heavenly stuff like that.”

            “Heavenly, huh?” Faith drawled.  “How about this?”  The slayer pushed the robe off of Cordelia’s shoulders and began laying a path of kisses over tan shoulders and down a tanned chest.

            “Definitely heavenly,” Cordelia moaned, pulling Faith’s head to her breast as her lover kissed and nipped her bare flesh.  “Bed,” Cordelia said weakly as Faith slipped lower. 

            Faith looked up from her near crouch and grinned wickedly.  “Your wish is my command, my lady.”  She shot up, grabbing Cordelia by the waist tightly and, in one fluid motion, carried both of them through the door of the bedroom to land softly on the queen-sized bed.  “Now,” she said, tumbling on top of her lover and slipping down to paint warm kisses over a tan abdomen, “I think we were right,” a gentle kiss, followed by a not so gentle nip, “about here.”

            “You never lose your place,” Cordelia said affectionately as her beloved slayer took the time to make sweet, sweet love to her.

%%%

            “Was Alizelle telling the truth, earlier?” Cordelia asked sleepily while rubbing Faith’s tummy slowly.

            The body curved into hers stiffened, then relaxed as the seer’s touch continued gently.  Faith shrugged.  “I dunno.  I guess so.  I mean, I don’t have a DNA test handy or anything.”

            “Hate to sound all psych on you, but how does that make you feel?” Cordelia murmured, keeping her voice deliberately even and smooth.

            Another shrug.  “It sucks,” Faith whispered, feeling tears wet her cheeks.  “All my life I hated the woman who raised me, and yet, I loved her.  She was my mommy.  Now she’s not, and the man, the man I called Daddy isn’t my father, either.  I don’t know who I am, Cordelia.”

            The seer nuzzled the back of her lover’s head.  “I do.  You’re a wonderful woman who I love very much.”

            Faith turned in Cordelia’s embrace so that they were face to face.  “But, you see, that still doesn’t say much.  I mean, yesterday, we weren’t even talking.  Now, we’re making love.  What does that mean?  Everything I thought I was is a lie, sweet cheeks.  I’m scared, and it burns me to admit that.”

            Cordelia sat up and turned on the light, looking down at her lover who was now blinking owlishly at the brightness of the light.  “I never expected you to be superhuman about it, Faith,” she said softly.  “Being afraid isn’t bad.”

            Faith buried her head in the pillows.  “It is if you’re me,” the slayer mumbled crossly.

            “Why are you so scared?” Cordelia asked curiously.  She reached over and took a drink from the glass of water that sat on the bed stand, then made a face.  “Uck, it’s stale.”  She got up and padded into the bathroom to refill the glass and get another one for Faith.

            When she returned, Faith took the offered glass from her and sat up on the bed.  The slayer drank slowly, and then set the glass down on the bed in the circle of her crossed legs.  “If she is my mother, she abandoned me.  But her story says she did it to save me, which scares me because I’ve never had anyone do anything like that for me,” Faith said slowly, closing her eyes and thinking back to the story that Alizelle had haltingly told her that afternoon.

            “So having someone risk their life for you scares you?” Cordelia asked quietly.

            “Yes!  No one should do that for me, I’m not worth it!” Faith blurted out, jumping off the bed and pacing around the room.

            “But you’re willing to put yourself at risk for people you do not even know?” Cordelia asked in an easy tone.  The news of the afternoon had come as a shock to Cordelia, but she was not about to let her lover fall into her old habit of running away from a problem.

            “Of course, it’s what I’m supposed to do!” Faith retorted, trying to keep the sting of anger from her voice.  She ran her hands through her hair.  “Maybe we should go to sleep, hon. it’s late, and we had a long day.”

            “Running away from the problem isn’t going to make it go away, Faith,” Cordelia said seriously.  She stood up and walked over to pull the slayer into a loose hug.  “It’s understandable that you’re pissed, I’d be too if my folks weren’t really my folks.”  Cordelia thought about that statement and added, “Because then I’d have to wonder what kind of idiot would leave me with such incompetent fools!”

            A tiny chuckle bubbled up out of the slayer.  It quickly vanished, though.  “It’s just wicked hard to accept that someone who claims to love me, left me.”

            “I suck as an actress,” Cordelia declared.  Faith started to say something, but Cordelia shook her head, smiling.  “No, let me finish.  I suck as an actress, but one thing I learned from schlepping around all over Hollywood is how to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.   I won’t say that my intuition is right, but I wonder if your mother – if Alizelle – wasn’t scared too?  I mean, I’ve never been a half demon accused of sleeping with the enemy, but I did date Xander Harris in high school!”

            Faith shuffled her feet, pulling away from Cordelia’s warm arms.  “I dunno.  Maybe.  I think my brain has broken, because I’d rather just let it go than deal with it right now.”  The slayer winced a smile, rubbing her temples to prove how tired she was.  “Can we pick this up later?  I’ve got a wicked headache about to burst full grown from my skull.”

            Cordelia looked at her lover and realized she was telling the truth.  The seer flopped down on the bed and patted the covers.  “Snuggle me?” she offered, batting her eyelashes prettily.

            Faith nearly flew into the bed to take her lover into her arms.

%%%

            Alizelle opened the door sleepily.  Spike was still conked out, sleeping the sleep of the dead and well sated.  Outside of her door stood a man dressed in the royal livery of the Unseelie Court.

            “Lady Alizelle?” he asked politely.

            “Yes?” she replied, still rubbing her face.

            “A message for you, from your mother,” he said, handing her a beautifully rolled scroll. 

            “Thank you,” Aliz took the scroll and sighed.  Of course it was from her mother!  No one else knew about this apartment!  She closed the door and wandered into the kitchen to begin the morning coffee.  She then called her secretary and had him deliver some pig’s blood for Spike.

            Spike woke up soon after the delivery and found Alizelle sitting at the table, drinking coffee and eating a pastry for breakfast.  “Mornin’ luv,” he said, walking to the refrigerator and taking out a beer.  He drank the bottle empty in three long swallows, then reached for the jar of blood he noticed sitting next to the beers.

            Aliz sipped at her coffee while the vampire microwaved his blood.  After a moment, she said, “What, no hello kiss?”

            Spike flinched at the bitterness in his employer’s words.  The microwave bell dinged and he removed the cup, sniffing the warm, thick, crimson liquid lovingly.  Then he wrinkled his nose.  It just wasn’t the same.  It wasn’t the same as humans, and, he cast a quick look at the healing marks on Aliz’s neck, nor was it the same as half demons. 

            The vampire walked around the bar and into the dining area.  Kicking a chair out with one foot, he slumped down and sifted through the morning newspaper.  “It’s just sex, you know,” he said, taking a drink of his blood.

            Aliz made a strangled noise, but didn’t answer.  Instead, she calmly opened the scroll that had come from her mother and read.  After rereading it twice, she spoke in a tight voice, “It looks like I’ll know my fate soon.”  Then she dropped the open scroll in front of Spike and ran off to her bedroom.

            Spike picked up the scroll and read.

            To Lady Alizelle, daughter of Lady Helen and Lord D’Hoffryn, Greetings.

                        You are cordially invited to attend the hearing of the matter of Unseelie Court vs. The Betrayer at midnight on the evening of the Vernal Equinox.  Please appear in person, with a minimum of escorts at the Palace of Terror. 

                                                Sincerely,

                                                            Alvicus, Lord of Laws, Unseelie Court

            “Well isn’t this a pretty pickle?” Spike asked the empty room.  The invitation was for tonight.  Running interference for Her Royal Sexy Bitchiness wasn’t going to be easy in the court of the Damned Elves.  It might be wise to call in a few favors.  He got up and rummaged around in his jacket until he found his cell phone. 

            Punching in a well known, yet distasteful to his demon soul, number, he waited, listening to the ringing on the other end of the phone line.  When it picked up he said in his best nasally twang, “Hi Dad, this is yer son.  I’m in trouble, kin you spare a hand to help me?”

            “Spike,” the one word greeting in a soft, yet bored tone let Spike know he had irritated his sire.

            “Why hello, Angel.  It seems you really can answer your own phone without prancing about the room waiting for your pet seer to lead a cheer to it!” Spike said, knowing he was baiting Angel, and not caring.

            “Spike, did you call for a reason, or are you on your period?” Angel retorted moodily.  Cordelia and Faith had yet to report in and he was worried that they might be fighting again.  Added to that, Kate had come in wearing a smile that would blind the dead and had made him hire her friend Sarah.  To top it off, Wesley and Gunn were giggling like girls in the kitchen.  He rubbed his head in frustration.  It was not his day!

            In the background, Spike heard his sire mutter gloomy things and stifled a laugh.  Oh, some days it was good to be bad!  He took a long swig of his blood and let out a satisfied sigh.  “Well, you bein’ the doo-gooder in these parts, I thought it might be worth something to your morose dead self to know of a possible badness a-happenin’, that’s all.”

            “Are you asking for help, Spike?  Is something wrong with Alizelle?” Angel intuited.  He looked up just in time to see Gunn chase Wes out of the kitchen with the flat of a large spatula.  Angel closed his eyes and bit his lip.  Some days, he realized, it was better to stay in bed.

            “Go on, English!  I can make eggs without you tour-guiding me through it!” Gunn said, causing Wes to pout.

            “Well, don’t forget to add the cheese this time, Gunn.  It’s just not the same without it!” he retorted, spinning on his heel and heading into his office.

            Kate jumped up from the couch she and Sarah had been sitting on and said, “I’ll help you, Gunn!”

            Angel looked at his employees.  What was going on here? 

            Spike’s voice called him out of his musings.  “-Unseelie Court.  Anyway, I thought t’would be best to have some back up, since she’s kind of Public Enemy Number One to them.”

            “Okay.  We’ll be there.  Where and when?” Angel asked.  He didn’t much care for Spike, but Alizelle was an innocent who didn’t deserve to be condemned for falling in love.

            Spike told him the particulars and Angel noted them on the handy pad that Cordelia kept near the phone.  They hung up and Angel turned to his crew.

            “We’ve got a job,” he said, causing Sarah to look up from her end of the couch.  “It starts tonight,” he added, forestalling a general ruckus.  “So we’ve got a little time to prepare.”

            Wes stuck his head out of his office and said, “Anything I should start researching?”

            Gunn and Kate jockeyed for position in the doorway to the kitchen.  “What kind of weapons do we need, Boss?” Gunn said.

            “Do I need my gun?” Kate added, sharing a secret look with Sarah.

            Angel smiled.  Okay, so maybe they were strange.  So a couple of them didn’t always come to work on time.  They were his crew, and in the end that was all that mattered, right? 

%%%

            Long, tan legs wrapped lovingly around denim clad, shorter legs.  A bare arm held a tee-shirted waist close.  Soft, whispery snores disturbed the hairs on Cordelia’s arm where Faith’s head rested. 

            The two young women had slept, woken, shopped for groceries and then returned to the house, only to fall asleep in front of the television on the couch after Faith had properly ravished her beloved seer.

            Cordelia was now awake, and idly watching cartoons without sound while Faith napped, snuggled up to her protectively.  She smiled down at her lover.  It was so good not to be fighting!  She would have to write Amy and tell her the good news.  Her smile grew larger when she thought of her friend’s happiness for her. 

            The phone rang.  Cordelia easily reached it and quietly said, “Hello?”

            “Well, so you are still alive, after all.  Good, I was beginning to wonder if you had killed each other,” Angel’s forced joviality made the seer roll her eyes.

            Faith opened her eyes at the sound of the phone.  She groaned and rubbed her head into Cordelia’s cleavage, and then said, “What’s up?”

            “No, we’re fine, Angel, thank you.  And, by the way, we’re taking the day off,” Cordelia said cheekily, knowing she should have called earlier and not caring.

            “Sorry, Cordy, no can do.  We have to get ready.  We’ve got a job,” Angel said, not at all apologetic.  He could hear the sounds of kissing through the phone and rolled his eyes.  Was everyone working for him in heat?  Maybe it’s the hotel, he mused, looking at how Kate and Sarah carefully kept their distance, touching only when they had to. 

            “Can’t we skip this one?  We’re kind of,” Cordelia giggled as Faith nipped her chin, “busy.”

            “Spike’s asked us to provide some backup for Alizelle,” Angel said.  “I need everyone for this one.”

            Cordelia’s tone immediately changed.  “We’ll be there,” she promised, hanging up the phone. 

            Faith captured the seer’s lips in an intense kiss, running her hands up her chest to cup full breasts lovingly. 

            “Faith,” Cordelia pulled away slightly, moaning as the slayer began to move in distracting ways.  “We can’t do this right now, love,” she said softly, putting a hand between their mouths.

            Faith pouted.  “Why not?”

            “Because we have to get ready for work,” Cordelia replied.

            “We’re taking the day off,” Faith growled darkly, leaning in to kiss Cordelia’s throat.  “I want to spend time just touching you.”

            “There is,” Cordelia said breathlessly as Faith made good on her statement, “nothing I’d rather be doing, believe me!  But Angel said it involved Alizelle!”

            The name chilled Faith’s blood faster than ice water.  She sat up, grimacing, clutching her hands into fists and then pounding them into her legs.  “Why does that woman have to interfere now of all times?  Why do I feel so obligated?” she shouted.

            “Because you understand the value of second chances,” Cordelia said quietly, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her lover.

            Faith sat numbly in Cordelia’s embrace, wanting to push her away, yet knowing she needed this comfort.  She trembled.  Her knuckles went white from the strain of holding her balled fists.  She barely heard Cordelia’s whispered words of love, barely felt the whisper soft kisses that the seer breathed across her neck and shoulders.

            When Cordelia’s fingers slipped inside the slayer’s shirt to gently stroke rapidly hardening nipples, a cry of need was torn from Faith’s body.  She spun in Cordelia’s arms, pushing her back onto the couch and kissing her fervently.  They made love, not passionately, but fiercely. 

            Afterward, Faith lay with her head pillowed on Cordelia’s stomach, tracing lazy patterns on the seer’s bare flesh.  “I guess I owe it to Angel to give Aliz a second chance.  He believed in me when no one else would.  And Gran would tan my hide if I didn’t at least try.” She looked up at Cordelia who reached down to stroke Faith’s cheek.  Faith smiled weakly at her lover.  “I guess we should double time it, huh?  Angel’s gonna be wicked pissed if we don’t get there.  And I’d rather not deal with him and my mother!”

%%%

            Xander pulled up in front of the old hotel, whistling at the faded grandeur.  “Not bad, Angel.  Now, if you can make it look slightly less decrepit and dreary, it might even pass as something besides the home of a vampire!”

            “Xander, that was almost nice,” Anya said pointedly as they quickly got out of their car.

            Xander grinned cheekily.  “I know.  Guess I’ll have to work really hard to come up with something mean and nasty for later, huh?”

            They walked up the steps to the front door, surprised when it opened easily.  The large foyer was slightly musty smelling, but otherwise, clean and well kept. 

            “En garde!” they heard Wesley say, and suddenly the figures of the small Englishman and a tall black man came into the foyer, using spatulas to fence with.

            Xander and Anya watched in amused amazement as the two men expertly fenced, chasing each other around the foyer gleefully until Wes turned his head and noticed their guests.  Gunn took that moment to tag him in the chest.

            “Touché, English!  That’s four nights of dishes you owe me!” Gunn crowed happily.

            Wesley cleared his throat and Gunn finally noticed their visitors.  “Oh, hey, sorry.  Welcome to Angel Investigations, how can we help you?” The tall black man went from being playful to serious instantly.

            Xander opened his mouth to say something, but Wes beat him to it.  “Hello, Xander, Anya.  What are you two doing in Los Angeles?”

            “We went to Disneyland, the Magical Happyland of fun,” Anya said brightly.  Then her smile vanished, “But then we ran into some of D’Hoffryn’s goon squad.  I think they’re after me.”

            By this time, Angel, Kate and Sarah had joined them. 

            “Why don’t we go back to the office and talk about this,” Angel suggested worriedly.  Oh great.  When it rains, it pours! he thought unhappily.  Faith and Cordelia better get here soon!

            Once settled in the office, Xander and Anya told the story of seeing the two assassins at the Disney hotel.  Anya insisted they were after her, but Angel knew that if D’Hoffryn wanted his former vengeance demon dead, she would either be dead, or there would be a trail of demon bodies a mile thick in Sunnydale.  No, something else was going on here.

            “You guys stay here and wait for Faith and Cordy,” he said, jumping up and heading for the stairwell that would take him down to the basement, and then to the sewers.  “I’m going to go talk to an old friend.”

            It didn’t take the vampire long to reach the informant’s hideout.  He knocked once, and then kicked in the door.

            “Good afternoon Angel.   Come in Angel.  Why don’t you sit down, Angel?  Take a load off your fucking feet, Angel,” Merl said lazily, not bothering to look up from his lunch.

            “Why thank you for the invite, Merl,” Angel said, picking up the demon’s plate and sniffing the contents.  “So, which fine garbage can did you scrape this out of, hmm?  I can smell the reek of six different sections of town here.”

            Merl made a face.  “Haven’t you ever cleaned leftovers out of your refrigerator?  Oh, wait, I forgot.  When you ate leftovers, there weren’t such things as refrigerators, or electricity, or, for that matter, leftovers!”

            “Stuff it, Merl,” Angel said, dropping the demon’s plate down on the table, causing some of the food to spill out over the demon’s lap.

            “You have the manners of a dead skunk, Angel.  You stink up the place.  What the hell do you want?” Merl asked, turning the chair around so he could toss a contemptuous smile up at the brooding vampire.

            “D’Hoffryn’s assassins.  Why are they here and who are they after?” Angel said simply, not wanting to banter with the demon any more.

            Merl went white.  Playing out a little info here and there about the movers and shakers at Wolfram and Hart was one thing, but ratting on the Big Guy, whoa, that was just asking for trouble.  “Sorry, nothing to tell you, bud.  Scram.”

            While they had talked, Angel had moved about the small room, folding his arms over his chest and listening with half an ear to Merl’s banter.  Now, however, he was suddenly across the room, perching on the demon’s lap.  He snuggled up close, using the weight of his crossed arms to push the demon’s head back into the chair painfully. 

            “I think you’d better start talking, Merl, or I might be less inclined to tip you this time,” Angel said menacingly, exerting just little more force on his arms, causing the demon to gag.

            “Okay, okay,” the demon squeaked breathlessly.  Angel let up a bit, allowing Merl to take a gasp of much needed air.  “D’Hoffryn’s got some bug up his ass about his daughter, Alizelle.”

            Angel leaned forward until his breath caressed Merl’s cheek.  “Now see, that’s all I really needed to know,” he whispered, leaving the faintest trace of a kiss on the demon’s pale face.

            “Oh man, you are so queer, Angel.  And I mean that in the ‘you’re as whacked as a lunatic’ way.  Get off me man, you weigh a ton!” Merl complained, trying to shove the vampire away.

            “Dead weight,” Angel smirked, jumping up and walking over to the door.  “Oh, one more question – who’s your decorator?  Because, I gotta tell you man, they really suck.”