Angel stood across the road in the shadows, gritting his teeth, watching his new vampire cohort, Steven, knock on the door of the little white house on the quiet street. *Please*, Angel thought, calling to whatever part of Xander's psyche he might have touched, hoping there was some way to telepathically communicate with him. *Please do not invite him in.*

Spike had slapped Angel on the back when he told him the plan. Steven would get in the house and drag Xander out and the three of them would use an old van Spike hot-wired to take him back to the cave. "So there's a method to your madness," Angel had said grimly. Capturing Xander would take a detailed and foolproof plan, because Buffy was never far behind.

Angel held his breath as he saw Xander appear in the doorway. A quick conversation, with Steven rocking back and forth like he was getting frustrated. And then the door closed. Thank God.

"Fuck!" Spike said. More silence and Steven didn't move. Then the door opened again and Xander handed him the cordless phone.

"Well, that's better," Spike said. "I knew if I picked a cute little bugger like him that Xander couldn't resist." Angel eyed him and shook his head, caring less if Spike figured him out now because it was crunch time.

And then it happened. The door swung wider and Steven walked in. Angel ran first, bounding across the road and up to the front door with Spike on his heels.

"Get him out of there!" Spike yelled and Steven, his faithful minion, obeyed. He dragged Xander down the front steps, his arm around Xander's neck so tightly his face was turning red. His arms hung limply at his sides, his feet trying to keep up, and he couldn't even manage a sarcastic remark.

Now. Now was the time to make his move. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, exactly, but he couldn't take it anymore. Steven would be easier to fight because he was younger and weaker, but Spike would be a tough case. All he had to do was hold him off long enough for Xander to bolt.

"Get your hands off him!"

All three of them spun around, Xander's feet dragging on the ground as Steven turned quickly. Buffy stood there in her usual attack stance, small fists clenched and red lips wound into a scowl.

"So now there's three of you, huh?" Buffy said, a lock of hair falling in her eyes. "It looks like there's a new ass to kick."

Her eyes wandered and rested on Angel, a thousand emotions warring in them. "I knew it was you," she said quietly. "I just didn't think it would be this version of you."

Whack! He didn't even see the kick coming. He had forgotten how hard Buffy could hit. Spike stepped in and cracked her hard in the nose, sending her stumbling back a few feet.

"Slayer...." Steven mumbled. Then he dropped Xander and ran.

"Beautiful," Spike muttered.

When she righted herself, she came at Angel again. He knew there had to be some kind of vengeance behind it.

"Don't!" Xander blurted out. "It's Angel!"

Everyone seemed to stop simultaneously before Spike broke the three-second silence. "Oh really?"

"Really." The secret was out, and he hit Spike as hard as he could, jumping on him as he reeled backwards. Angel knew Buffy and Xander must be staring as they fought in Xander's front yard, fangs out and faces distorted with fiery rage.

Finally Spike stood back and took a look at all of them, giving Angel one last glare before he took off around the house.

Angel turned around, trying to steady his breathing. Buffy's eyes asked a thousand questions and he didn't know how to tell her that in the end she'd rather they weren't answered.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Xander looked at Angel. Angel looked at Xander. There were so many ways to answer that question that Angel didn't know where to start.

But there must have been something in their eyes, or their body language, or some invisible crackle of electricity in the air that connected on to the other, because Buffy said "You're kidding me." Her look was accusing now and Angel closed his eyes and shook his head.

Buffy brushed off her pants and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Well, I guess you don't need me hanging around, then. I'd hate to be a third wheel." Angel debated grabbing her arm when she walked by, tell her that he *did* love her at one time. It had just been replaced by something a thousand times more intoxicating and even more confusing. He had lived hundreds of years and still not learned how to control his emotions.

"Let her go," Xander said quietly. "I'll do damage control later. Why don't you come in for a second?"

Angel followed him up the steps and into the quiet living room. Photos of Xander at various ages hung on the walls and the TV was still on, playing old news footage of Waco. He followed Xander down the wooden steps to the basement, into the place he used to love to be. Now it just felt sad.

Xander stripped off his shirt and threw it on the floor next to a week's worth of dirty clothes. "I owe you," he said, focusing on some spot near Angel's feet.

"No you don't." Angel was still telling himself that as Xander walked closer, running his hands up Angel's arms as their lips met.

"I do," Xander said into his mouth, pulling him into a hug. They stood like that for a minute, hands rubbing backs and chins resting on shoulders, Xander's heartbeat so heavy it almost made up for Angel's lack of one. Angel pulled him even tighter, trying to memorize the way this body felt against him, maybe saving it for nights when there was no one else.

Then Xander's lips were running across the smooth skin of Angel's neck, tracing the collar of his shirt and then moving slowly up to his jaw line. "I love you," Xander said quietly, and Angel had to close his eyes to block the pain.

"I have to go," he said, pulling away, squeezing Xander's hand as he walked backwards to the stairs. It had to end, once and for all, before it did any more damage. "I have to go," he repeated. "Take care of yourself."

No footsteps followed him as he climbed the stairs, every cell in his body aching from Xander, from himself and from this whole, fucked up situation. Xander would go back to his own life, try to repair the relationship with his friend and maybe even find someone human to sleep with.

The stars were flickering like candles when he left the little white house and walked down the quiet street with no real place to go anymore.

-end-