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He is alive. She closes her eyes again and rolls the thought over in her mind. He is alive, has been alive all this time, and no one thought to tell her. Angel has already felt the lash of her tongue and when she sees Andrew she's going to throttle the little nerd. He is alive, and no one thought to tell her. He didn’t tell her.

Angel has told her as best he can the reasoning behind the decision, but Spike's rather dubious reasoning, retold through Angel's grudging respect for him, is difficult to follow and she finds herself, yet again, angry with her lover. It is not as if Angel were ever concerned with Spike's wishes. If he did not tell her it is because he has his own motivations, but then that much is obvious. She sent him away hours ago, telling him that she needed time to think. His hangdog look and pleading, repentant eyes had been making her just about angry enough to do physical harm, and his reasoning that all had turned out for the best had played on her already jangling nerves. So she had sent him away and sat alone with her circling thoughts. He is alive, and no one thought to tell her.

There are other things for her to consider—slayers are sick; some are even dead or dying. Yet she finds her mind returns always to that one single thought: he is alive.

And he is coming here. He is on a plane, flying over Mexico, due to land in LA in less than two hours. Giles is bringing him here, with a slayer. He had told her there were stories of a rogue slayer operating out of the Brazilian rain forest with her vampire consort. A vampire described as having bleach blonde hair and a black leather trench coat. Only then had Andrew and Angel spilled their closely guarded secret.

He is coming here, he and his slayer. She doesn’t know if, when she sees him, she will kiss him or punch him, whether joy at his return will outweigh anger at his betrayal. She tries to understand his motivation, if not his reasoning, and on this point Angel was clear: he did it for her, because he wanted her to be happy. So perhaps she will not beat him too badly, but that is yet to be seen. Perhaps it will depend on this slayer of his.

A slayer. Her replacement, she thinks bitterly; another slayer in his bed. She is certain she will despise the girl. She pictures the rogue as a Hispanic Faith with dubious morals and overt sexuality. She knows she is jealous, that she is letting envy make her bitter and distrustful. But she never claimed to be perfect and perhaps jealousy is a fault of hers.

Spike is not hers, she reminds herself, has not been hers for many years, and he has every right to find what happiness he can. But still she feels the bitter twist of jealousy that he could find that happiness with someone else, someone who isn’t her.

Angel's words come back to her, "He didn't want to make things harder for you. He figured you'd earned your happiness, that you'd earned this." He'd clutched her small hand in his two large warm ones and given her a loving smile. She had fought the impulse to pull her hand away but had not been able to return the smile, and the look of hurt on his face had left her feeling uncomfortably guilty.

She plays the scene of their reunion over in her mind. Perhaps he will smile at her, that tentative half smile that he always gives her when he is unsure of himself. She might smile back, and he will relax and flash her that dazzling, genuine. smile that she has so rarely seen.

Or maybe he will come here penitent and contrite apologising for lying to her and she, enraged, will land a solid punch on his nose before throwing herself into the welcome of his cool embrace.

She works the scene over and over. She is director of her imagination, tweaking and perfecting each scene on the stage of her mind until each one is in its own way perfect and even she cannot decide which she prefers. She creates scenarios that are angry and violent, or sweet and tearful; she imagines meetings that are resigned and regretfully sad, others that are, despite herself, passionate.

She takes a deep breath and stands. It is time to join the others downstairs and await their arrival. He is alive, and he will be here soon.



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A/N I know this one is short, but the way Im doing this with switching persepectives means some chapters probably will be, still I posted two at once so that gets me some credit right?





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