Author's Note: Some dialogue was taken from the original episode; Revelations, but this plot is completely different from canon, as I have reworked the mystery of Miss Post, and Angel's return is already known by the gang. I also introduce Doyle to the recurring cast. Enjoy.

Myhnegon.

"Angel," Buffy called out as she brushed through the black curtains which guarded the entrance of the Mansion on Crawford street from the sunlight. Finding no one in the double height living room, she made her way past the stairs and into the kitchen, where she found her boyfriend, who looked up at her entrance. "Hey," she greeted him, dumping her school stuff on the table in the centre of the room. "How did it go?"

"I got a second interview," the ensouled vampire replied, setting down the ceramic mug he was drinking from before her entrance.

"That's fantastic," Buffy cried, rushing to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her, receiving the affection gratefully, but the uncertain expression upon his face did not change, causing her to look at him in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I'm still not sure about doing this," Angel confessed.

"We discussed this," Buffy reminded him. "You agreed with me that if you're going to be redeemed by the Powers That Be at some point, then you need to establish a life for yourself. And that means a real identity, and some means of income."

"That's just it," Angel returned. "It's not a real identity, it's one Willow and Oz had to hack into the government files to make so."

"Angel, there was no other way. Your real name died in 1753. We can't use it. Just as Miss Calendar couldn't use her name to return to her life. You didn't object when Willow and Oz used the same methods to get her a place in the world."

"That's different." Angel looked down. "She deserves it."

"And you don't?" Buffy countered. "Angel, how may times do I have to tell you that you and Angelus are two different people. You have the same memories, but he is not you. All the crimes you are guilty of, are only those you may have committed before that night in the dark alley where you met Darla. You are innocent of Angelus' crimes, just as Jenny is, and therefore deserve to have a life. And life includes the need for funds to provide one, which includes a job."

Angel nodded, although Buffy could tell that he would still require more convincing. The recent encounter with the First had lowered his low self-esteem even further than the demon who constantly whispered to his soul, and she would have to work hard in restoring it. "Even if I get it," he allowed with a small nod, "there's still the difficulty of actually doing it. I can't go out into the sunlight."

"I have told you that I will sort out that."

"But you haven't told me how."

"I want to surprise you," Buffy finished, smiling at him. She expected him to offer some more objections, as he had done ever since she first saw the advert in the newspaper and practically begged him to answer it.

Instead, he returned her expression with a smile of his own. "All right, I will let you," he said, using the same tone he had the morning of her seventeenth birthday, filling Buffy with a desire to kiss him, which she did, stretching up to capture his lips with hers. His hands let go of her waist to run their fingers down her back, causing pleasurable sensations through her clothes. Slowly one set reached her head, entangling themselves in her blond locks, pressing her closer to his as their mouths let their tongues begin a sensuous duel. Wishing to dispense with stretching, Buffy lifted her legs, wrapping them around him, pressing her thighs against the sides of his abdomen. She heard him moan involuntarily as she pressed herself closer to him. Before she was even fully aware of it, her hands were fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, easing them out of their holes. She felt his hand which had remained caressing her back, return to the waistband of her jeans, sliding underneath the limits of her top, his fingers now dancing on her bare skin. Lost within the motions, she uttered a moan of her own, murmuring his name through their engaged lips.

Abruptly he set her on the table and withdrew himself, standing against the cabinets, refusing to meet her eyes. She sat up straight, her blond tresses falling about her shoulders, her confused gaze seeking out his own. Despite herself she felt a momentary uncertainty about the depth of his feelings for her. Then she saw him swallow hard, and decided to be just as blunt. "Don't stop."

He seemed to blink, uncertain. "Believe me, I don't want to," he answered, realising only now how his actions could be misinterpreted.

Buffy frowned. "Then why?" She asked.

"I also want it to be right," he replied. "We promised each other that we wouldn't rush headlong into this again, and yet I've only been back for thirty-five days, and we're at that point again."

"Thirty-five days is hardly rushing things," Buffy pointed out. "What else is bothering you?" She asked.

"I don't want you regretting it like you must have done the last time," he answered softly.

"Oh," Buffy uttered, uncertain as to how to reply to that. "I did at first," she admitted, settling for the truth, as they had promised each other. "But then I realised that Angelus saw our love for each other as a weakness to exploit, a weapon with which to try and drive us apart. He hated me because you fell in love with me. And when you regained your soul, the way you were with me made me realise that." She paused before adding, "I can't pretend that I won't experience some fear, but then neither can you."

"No, I can't," he agreed, stepping away from the cabinets to be near her again. "Buffy, I can't deny that I want to make love to you. But not until you're ready, and I don't want you to feel that you're pressured into being ready."

"Angel, I'm ready," Buffy assured him, looking determinedly into his dark soulful eyes. "When is your interview?" She asked suddenly.

"Tomorrow evening. I'm teaching a late class, windowless room," he informed her, slightly puzzled by the non-sequitur.

"Then tomorrow night I shall be making love to a Professor of Art History," Buffy remarked in a soft seductive whisper, making Angel smile at her confidence in him.

"How did it go?" Jenny asked her host after he walked through the front door frame of his apartment across town from Crawford Street.

"Very well," Giles answered, closing the door and setting his briefcase down on the desk. "Principal Snyder is one of the most gullible people I have ever had the occasion to meet. He eagerly accepted that your identical 'twin sister' was fully qualified to take your job. He even seemed concerned that you might experience discomfort at being in the same environment."

"I probably will," Jenny agreed, recalling how weird it had felt to wake up in the library after the spell which had reconstituted her body out of nothingness, as though nothing had happened to her. "But I don't think I could do anything else." She turned away, unsure to meet Rupert's gaze. "After all, I can't stay here for ever."

"Can you not?" Giles asked her softly, causing her to look at him once more. It was impossible to misinterpret the meaning in his face; the desire that she would stay forever. The past seven days had been awkward at first, as they adjusted to living with each other, as Jenny adjusted to living again, as Giles adjusted to having her back. But these awkward hours had also been filled with lingering glances at each other, moments when hands would meet and touch, either by chance or deliberately, and times when the most wonderful evenings of their lives would be spent in conversation. Already he never wanted them to end, feeling grateful once more to the slayer and her friends together with Angel for going to so much trouble and undertaking so much risk to make this possible.

"Perhaps," Jenny answered, smiling. Impulsively she took the plunge and pulled him towards her, capturing his lips with hers. It was their first kiss since her return and everything they could have hoped for. All their previous awkwardness was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around her, while she caressed his neck, her fingers idly playing with the ends of his hair. Every facet of the feelings they felt for each other washed over them during this moment, as they affirmed and defined their relationship once more, redefining themselves as they did so.

Reluctantly, Giles kept the moment short and chaste. "I have to oversee Buffy's patrol," he managed to get out, his eyes still lost in hers.

"Okay," Jenny replied, returning the intense stare.

It no use. Resistance was futile. Giles pulled her towards him and kissed her again, powerfully this time, tangling his hands in her black hair. Jenny was with him every step of the way, matching power for power, so when they broke apart this time, they were breathless.

"I suppose I could be a little late," he said, his gaze silently asking her for consented agreement.

Jenny said nothing in reply. Instead she took his hand and led him upstairs.

Night had firmly established itself upon Sunnydale by the time Giles joined Buffy and Angel in one of the twelve cemeteries, slightly embarrassed as they smiled knowingly at him before the vampires came upon them, challenging them to a fight.

Absence from each other had by no means diminished either the slayer's or the ensouled vampire's capabilities to work as a team. They entered the fight almost with relish, answering the vampires' challenge by rolling on their backs side by side, the undead demons landing on top of them. Delivering backhanded punches, they struck their attackers, deflecting the vampire's strikes into the ground beside them, while Giles sought the relative safety of a nearby bench, and the soothing warmth from his flask of coffee, inwardly blushing as he recalled how Jenny had worn one of his shirts while preparing it for him.

Buffy and Angel lifted their legs, striking the vampires' in their midsections, sending them into the air, using the distance to regain their feet. Yanking the beasts towards them, they kicked them again, aiming for the same place, only for the vampires to see the punch coming this time and manage to block it.

Undeterred, they used their strength to twist the wrists, cracking the bones, causing the vampires to growl and retreat their hands. Buffy raised her leg and spun, delivering another strike to her opponent's midsection, this time achieving success. Angel meanwhile let the vampire come at him, faking a retreat until the beast had picked up enough pace before dancing aside at the last moment so his opponent hit the bench instead.

Giles retrieved his flask, depositing it on the other side for safe keeping, then made some notes on the writing pad balanced on his lap. Rising up with a large bruise on his head, the vampire glanced at him in confusion, before being yanked away by his attacker.

Angel spun the demon round until he impacted against the back of his undead friend. Behind them Buffy dealt one final punch to her own attacker before taking her stake out of her pock. Her boyfriend followed, raising his own in time to strike his opponent just as she did, the two vampires transforming into ashes together.

"Synchronised slaying," Buffy remarked, giving her boyfriend a high-five after the dust between them had fallen to the ground.

"New Olympic category?" Angel joked back.

Buffy turned to Giles "Whadaya think?"

"Sloppy," a voice answered, causing them to look round and then up, as a woman walked into view. Severely attired in a sombre pastel business suit with her grey blond hair pulled back from her face, she gave them impression that was she was older than youthful looks implied.

"You telegraph punches, leave blind sides open and, for a school-night slaying, take entirely too much time," she added, before turning to Giles. "Mr Rupert Giles, I presume?"

"And you are?" Giles asked, rising from his seat.

"Gwyneth Post," the woman replied. "Your new protégé."

"I apologise, Ms Post," Giles remarked as he exited his office in the library an hour later, "I have just spoken to the Council who confirmed your credentials. They swear there was a memo informing me that I was to be teaching you."

"No offence taken, Mr Giles, I quite understand the need for initial distrust," Gwyneth replied, glancing around at the shelves. While Giles had been on the phone she had avoided Buffy's gaze, exploring the books scattered about on the large research table. "Mr. Giles, where do you keep the rest of your books?"

"I'm sorry," Giles finished cleaning his glasses. "The rest?"

"Yes, the actual library," Gwyneth asked.

Giles continued to look at her in confusion.

"Oh. I see," Gwyneth smiled, conveying with it pure disappointment.

"I can assure you, Ms. Post," Giles started to say, "this is the finest occult reference collection..."

"This side of the Atlantic, I'm sure," Gwyneth finished. "Do you have Hume's Paranormal Encyclopaedia?"

Giles didn't reply.

"The Labyrinth Maps of Malta?" Gwyneth asked.

Buffy turned to her watcher hopefully.

"It's on order," Giles admitted.

"Well, I suppose that you have Sir Robert Kane's Twilight Compendium?"

"Oh! Uh..." Giles answered distractedly as he looked around for the volume in question. "Yes, I... Yes! Yes, I do."

Gwyneth still seemed unimpressed. "Of course you do. I must be blunt, Mr Giles. Not only have the council sent me here for my final evaluation, but they also sent me here for a very important reason. I am the best of my class, and the first to be allowed to finalise my training whilst in the field. The council wishes me to report on the entire situation here, including you."

"Me?" Giles queried.

"The fact is, there is talk in the council that you have become a bit too.... American."

"Me?" Giles uttered again, taken aback.

"Him?" Buffy uttered, shocked that anyone would think her watcher American.

"A demon named Lagos is coming here to the Hellmouth," Gwyneth said, abruptly changing the subject. "Mr. Giles, an illustration of Lagos, if you please."

Giles suddenly wished he had received that memo from the council, so he could have the information she required. "Oh, uh... Yes. Uh..."

"Perhaps later," Gwyneth remarked. "Lagos seeks the Glove of Myhnegon. No record of this glove's full power exists, but we do know it is highly dangerous and must not fall into the hands of a demon. Lagos must be stopped."

Thoroughly ticked off, Giles removed his glasses once more. "What do you propose?"

"Well, if it's not too radical a suggestion, I thought we might kill him," Gwyneth answered. "But, then again I am only the pupil here. We believe the glove to be buried in a tomb somewhere, so Lagos will be headed for the cemetery."

"There is more than one in Sunnydale," Giles informed her.

"I see. How many?" Gwyneth asked.

"Uh, twelve, within the city limits," Giles answered.

Even that did not seem to discompose the unflappable woman. "Well, we'll just have to take them one at a time. Anything in your books that might pinpoint the exact location of the tomb would be useful, but then, we cannot ask for miracles."

Giles let the book he was studying slam close, falling noisily on to the table.

"We'll begin tomorrow at sunset," Gwyneth finished. "And you are?" She finally addressed the one person who had remained silent so far since her arrival.

"Oh, I'm Mr Giles assistant," Angel lied smoothly. "He lets me help out sometimes."

"Of course he does," Gwyneth uttered condescendingly before walking out.

Giles visibly relaxed. "That was bracing," he uttered, slamming his fist on to the table, venting his frustration.

"Interesting lady," Buffy commented. "Can we kill her?"

"I think the council might frown upon that," Giles remarked, but the temptation was there upon his face. "You two better get home," he uttered, rising from the chair. "You both have full days tomorrow, and your mother will be worried about you," he added.

"What about you?" Buffy asked.

"I'm gonna call Jenny, let her know that I'll be bringing some research home about Lagos," Giles uttered despondently. "If I find any reference to him, that is."

"Giles, I know about him," Angel remarked, surprising them. "And the glove."

"How?" Giles asked.

"Angelus was into anything which could give him a lot of power," Angel answered uncertain as he always was when he referred to his demonic half. "The glove was given in trust to the Von Haupton family. It's probably in their crypt."

"In that case I'll get Willow to check the burial records tomorrow," Giles said. "Thank you, Angel."

The ensouled vampire nodded, touched by the acceptance in the watcher's tone. Buffy took his hand and headed to the door. "Goodnight, Giles. See you tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight," Giles replied, watching them leave before walking into his office to let Jenny know that he was on his way home.

"So we should be wary of angering Giles today?" Xander sought to confirm as the Scoobies wandered through the corridors the next morning.

"Yeah," Buffy asserted. "Ms Post had him seething in just an hour after meeting her. So glad Giles isn't like her."

"Did you guys hear Jenny's got her job back?" Willow asked them.

"Yes, thank goodness for Snyder's stupidity," Cordelia said. "We're also getting a new literature teacher."

"Who is it?" Buffy asked.

"A Mr Doyle," Cordelia informed them. "He's coming from LA."

"Cool," the slayer mused. "I wonder how long it will take before someone informs him of my school file. Unless my reputation proceeds me."

"Don't worry about it," Willow tried to assure her best friend. "Not all the teachers think you're going to destroy the school."

"Just think, if we're lucky, one of them might do it for us," Oz uttered as they entered the library.

"How is Deadboy?" Xander asked Buffy, only to receive a glare. "I mean Angel. How is Angel, my good friend?"

Buffy smiled, pleased that she could finally tell them. "Applying for a job."

"A job?" Giles echoed, surprised he had not been told of this the night before.

"Yes a job," Buffy confirmed. "He decided, or rather I persuaded him, that as his redemption is practically a certainty granted by the Powers That Be, that he ought to be able to exist in the normal world like I do."

"Buffy, doesn't this job thing have a slight snag, like sunshine?" Cordelia commented.

"Actually, I was hoping you lot could help with that. Is there anything?"

Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them, signalling intense thought mode. When he had put them back on, he finally spoke. "Well there's the gem of Amara, but I believe that's only a myth."

"I could try putting the power on something he could wear," Willow remarked, causing everyone to stare at her. "I've been reading about that lately, I think I could do it."

"And where have you been reading about this?" Giles asked.

"In those books that you keep in your office that supposedly I'm not ready for," Willow replied, smiling pleadingly at the Watcher to forgive her. "Miss Calendar's been helping me," she added, knowing Giles would now give it a stamp of approval.

The Librarian shook his head but accepted the plea.

"So," Cordelia asked, "What job is he applying for?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you until he gets it." Despite his insecurities last night Buffy was sure he would. "Could we manage to do this by tonight?" She asked Willow.

"I think so. Do you have something he usually wears?"

Buffy produced a chain from her bag, a small gold Irish coin attached to it. She had managed to 'retrieve' it from her boyfriend the night before, after he saw her to the door of her home in Revello drive like the gentleman he was.

"Ah, that looks like eighteenth century to me," Gwyneth remarked as she entered, causing Buffy to look pointed at her friend, who quickly closed her hand around the necklace, while the slayer tried to appear casual.

"Everyone, this is Ms Post," Giles introduced. "These are Buffy's friends."

"Friends?" Gwyneth echoed.

"As in comrades, People I hang with," Buffy explained sarcastically.

"I know what friends are, Miss Summers," Gwyneth remarked with disdain. "I was unaware it was usual slayer to have them."

"Buffy's a slayer?" Xander mocked, pretending to outraged. "What's a slayer?"

Gwyneth was not even amused. "Do American teenagers have no manners?"

"Sometimes," Giles informed her complacently. "I find their bluntness rather refreshing, actually."

"I came to find out if you have learned where Lagos is likely to find the glove of Myhnegon," Gwyneth remarked, ignoring his last comment.

"Oh, that is in the Von Haupton crypt," Giles replied.

"Glove of whatathon?" Xander asked.

"Myhnegon," Giles enunciated. He opened the book he had been carrying in his hand, holding out for the others to look at. "Here's a wood engraving. See? The Glove of Myhnegon."

"Yes, engraved by Father Theodore of Wolsham," Gwyneth remarked, still unimpressed. "Based, I believe, on very sketchy and unreliable folk legends. The pictures are fun to look at, Mr. Giles, but one really ought to read the nice words as well."

Giles closed the book with a loud snap, in time with the whistling of his kettle inside his office. "Ah. Yes. Some tea, perhaps?" He strode away, not waiting for an answer.

"Well, I'm going to visit the Von Haupton crypt tonight," Buffy revealed, trying to rescue her watcher. "Anyone know where it is?"

"Yeah, that's that big one over at the Restfield Cemetery," Xander informed her.

Gwyneth followed Giles into his office. "I know that you must find me tiresome, but it's insidious, really. A person slips up on the little things, and soon everything has gone to Hell in a hand basket. For example... Buffy, your Slayer..."

"Ms. Post... I can assure you that Buffy is both dedicated and industrious, and I am in complete control of my Slayer," Giles remarked, still annoyed. "It is your attitude that I am questioning at present. Haven't you come here to learn?"

"Yes, Mr Giles, you're right," Ms Post answer. "I have."

"So, you see Jane had no choice to stay at Lowood School, even though the conditions were terrible, for not only was she sent there by her guardian for her education, it was her means of escaping the harsh world of her youth. Charlotte Brontë is using education here as a symbol of feminine power, showing the reader than only through the acquirement of knowledge are they able to earn their freedom."

The bell rang just as Mr Doyle finished this point, causing Buffy and her friends to pack up their books and stationary.

"Class dismissed," Mr Doyle remarked. "Remember to read the next two chapters before we reconvene," he added. "Miss Summers, can I see you for a moment?"

Buffy looked up from her book bag, wondering what trouble she was in for now. She watched the other students exited the classroom, Willow lingering the longest in wait for her, then advanced a little way forward towards Mr Doyle.

He seemed not to notice her for a moment, closing his eyes suddenly and putting a hand to his head.

"Mr Doyle, are you alright?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, just a headache," he uttered. "Gwyneth Post," he remarked, surprising the slayer. "Don't trust her."

"Why not?" Buffy asked, curious and suspicious. "How do you know her?"

"Let's just say I've seen her around," Doyle uttered before walking past her. "Keep up the good work, Miss Summers," he added before exiting the room.

The sky was already beginning to darken by the time Buffy arrived at the mansion on Crawford Street, having spent dinner with her mother before going on patrol. She had staked out the Von Haupton crypt, waiting for the demon, only to discover that Lagos was nowhere to be found, and neither was the glove, causing her to jump to the only sensible conclusion and run to her boyfriend for suddenly needful backup.

"Angel," she called out as she brushed past the curtains guarding the entrance to the double height living room. "I think Lagos has the......" her mouth came to a stop as she caught sight of the room.

Every stone of the tiled floor was covered completely in rose petals, all of various colours, and looking entirely fresh, a contrast to the fall seasonal weather which had settled over Sunnydale. Candles were the only source of light, located on various tables in clusters around the room, casting a romantic glow over everything.

Buffy uttered a gasp of amazement, then one of surprise as, as if out of nowhere, her beloved's arms wrapped themselves around her waist. She leaned back into him as he kissed her neck. "Angel, this is beautiful. You didn't have to go to this much trouble."

"I wanted to," he said softly. "You deserve it."

"Does this mean you got the job?" She asked him.

"Yes," he answered, causing her to turn round in his arms and kissed him eagerly. "I start tomorrow," he added.

"Well, as much as I'd like to celebrate, we have a problem," Buffy began. "Lagos has the glove. I went to the crypt and it was empty."

"No he doesn't," Angel replied, taking her by the hand and leading her to the coffee table, where she noticed the package covered in rags. He removed them to reveal a blackened mediaeval glove, complete with chain-mail and claws. "Glove of Myhnegon."

"The world's ugliest fashion accessory," Buffy remarked, reaching out to touch it.

Angel put his hand upon hers, stopping her. "No, don't. Once you put it on, the glove can never be removed."

"No touching," Buffy promised, her eyes on him now. "The only thing I will touch tonight will be you," she uttered softly.

Angel used his free hand to recover the glove, then took her other in it before bringing her close to him once more. "Are you sure about this?" He asked her.

"More than anything," Buffy assured him.

Surprising her, Angel swept her into his arms, carrying her to the stairs. Buffy laughed as he did so, before smiling as she observed the trail of petals leading up the stairs, white and blood red, into the master suite, where they merged into a circle around the bed. Crisp white soft bed sheets and pillows covered that piece of furniture, gently creasing as Angel set his beloved down in the middle of them.

Buffy rose to her knees and manoeuvred herself to the edge of the bed, the side where Angel came to stand. She reached out and began easing the buttons on his shirt out of their holes. He stood silently before her, letting her set the pace, closing his eyes in pleasure as her fingers parted the shirt to stroke his taut abdomen.

Courage rising above her trepidation, Buffy dealt a kiss to his skin, then licked a wet trail up his chest, making him purr in contentment. When she reached his neck, he caught her lips in his, wrapping his arms around her waist. He caressed her back through her clothes, then tentatively sought the limits of her top, slipping his fingers underneath.

She groaned as his hands touched her skin, kissing him passionately before withdrawing from his lips to remove his shirt. Reluctantly his hands left her back to help her, letting the garment fall from his arms to the ground. Angel met her gaze as she sat a little back on her knees, raising her arms, letting him take the top off her.

He tossed the shirt to the floor, then tenderly placed his hands on the straps of her bra. She looked up at him, silently giving her consent for him to remove it, revealing her bare chest to his gaze. Angel let the underwear fall to the floor before gently wrapping his arms around her once more, placing his palms on her shoulder blades, then kissing her lips again.

Buffy had wanted to avoid thinking of their first time, but she could not help comparing the two, wondering this time what her lack of innocence would do to the occasion. She had known long before that Angel was experienced, she had even been pleased that he was, for her knowledge only stemmed from biology books, films and her mother's magazines. The heartbreak which Angelus had dealt her that morning after made her feel guilty that she wasn't, even though Angel had seemed not only to accept it but even be honoured to be her first, before experiencing his moment of happiness. Now, as before, that tenderness and acceptance, and honour were still present, but she could tell that he was making sure she was well aware of it, in an effort to placate whatever fears she might have. And she was glad of it, feeling herself fall in love with him all over again.

Angel's lips slipped gently from hers to her neck, beginning a long blissful trail down her skin, his body bending as he reached her breasts. He took each nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at them, causing Buffy to let her thoughts go, and just focus on the waves of pleasure he arousing from deep within her. He left her wanting more, moving to the valley of skin between, then down to her belly button, which he explored with his tongue, causing her to laugh as the motion tickled.

Withdrawing, he dropped to his knees and looked up at her, waiting for another silent glance of permission to unfasten her jeans. Surprising him, Buffy reached forward and undid his trousers, her fingers lingering a little inside, making him shudder. Purring, he slid the zip downwards on hers, his hands caressing her butt through her pants as he slid the jeans away.

They both stood up, letting the garments slip to the floor and bed, Buffy nervously adding the final piece of her clothing to the pile of clothes on the floor, along with her jeans. She watched Angel follow suit, her eyes unable to look away from the strength of his desire for her, slightly reassured and yet at the same time a little terrified.

He seemed to sense her need for reassurance, drawing her close to him once more. "I love you, Buffy," he whispered, the breath from the words sending a warmth through her body into her heart and mind, empowering her.

"I love you too," she returned, gazing into his eyes. He kissed her lips, using his height and strength to gently push her down amongst the pillows. She let herself descend without resistance, easing her legs out from under her, entangling them with his as he came to rest above her.

This time there was no rain pounding on the curtain covered window of the Mansion, the sound of her breathing the only noise to disturb the otherwise silent pleasure they were creating between them. Slowly Angel's hands caressed every inch of her skin, while hers settled on his back, tracing the lines of his tattoo. He reached her hips, shifting his body so he could explore between them, preparing her for his manhood, effortlessly seeking out her pleasure sources so when he penetrated her she almost hardly noticed, it felt so natural and wonderful.

"I love you," he uttered again as they became one.

The morning light began to shine through the heavy black curtains which covered the window of the master suite bedroom, casting itself over the scattered rose petals and burnt out remains of wax candles.

Buffy opened her eyes. Seeing empty bed sheets in front of her, she felt a momentary panic rise within her breast, before resolutely quelling it. "Angel?"

He wrapped his arms around her from behind a second later. "Good morning, beloved," he uttered softly, gathering her willing form up above his own. His eyes gazed at her with awe, reverence and love. "Thank you," he continued, smiling at her. "Last night.... you made me feel human, whole, happy for the second time."

"Thank you," Buffy returned, gazing back at him with equal emotion. "You made me feel hallowed, sacred, precious."

"You are," he replied, looking at her in such a way as if to say it was incomprehensible for anyone not to find her so.

"I have something for you, sort of in congrats for your job," Buffy reached across to the pile of clothes, reaching into her jeans' pockets and withdrawing the necklace she had pocketed from him the day before.

Angel glanced from the necklace to her in puzzlement. "I was looking for that yesterday," he uttered, wondering how she managed to get hold of it without him noticing.

"I borrowed it and Willow and Jenny put a spell on it." She slipped it over his head. "Now you can go into the sunlight."

Wordlessly Angel looked up at her, her gift slowly sinking in. His hands weave themselves into her blond tresses, and he kissed her lips in gratitude.

Buffy smiled through the kiss, and deftly wriggled her hips, causing him to groan as the motion awakened his manhood into stiffness. All her fears had been completely erased during the night before, when they made love until their bodies ached from exhaustion, sleeping only when their energy was spent.

Angel parted from her lips briefly. "You're insatiable," he declared, moving his body into her wriggling as he so.

"It's all your fault," Buffy returned happily, wrapping her arms around him. "You're too damn sexy to resist," she added, before kissing him again.

"Lagos is out of luck," Buffy announced to Giles as she walked into the Library during morning recess. "Here is the magic mitten thingy," she added, depositing the glove of Myhnegon on to the research table.

Giles cautiously unwrapped it. "Turns out that engraving wasn't entirely inaccurate," he murmured, examining the dangerous looking garment.

"Angel managed to get it the night we were told about it," Buffy revealed to him. "He said not to touch it. Once someone has it on them it can't be removed."

"Yes, so I've found out," Giles replied, covering the glove up once more. "I also discovered that we can destroy it, though we better wait until after school, when Ms Post arrives," he added.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," Buffy began, jumping to sit on the table, careful to stay away from the glove. "Mr Doyle warned me about her yesterday after class."

"Mr Doyle?" Giles queried. "How does he know her?"

"He said he saw her around," Buffy answered. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"More than Ms Post," Giles decided. "I don't like her, Buffy, I must confess."

"Join the club," Buffy said, "I'll get Cordelia to make us some t-shirts and muffins for the weekly meetings."

"Do you have more English today?" Giles asked her.

"No, but I'm sure I could find an excuse to drop by his classroom," Buffy offered.

"Do so," Giles asked her. "While I call the Council and ask again about Ms Post."

Buffy leapt off the table. "On my way," she uttered before walking out of the library.

Recess was still underway, so the slayer found the English room to be devoid of all but the new teacher as she knocked on the open door. "Mr Doyle, have you got a moment?"

"Yes," he replied looking up at her.

Buffy walked up to the table, casting her slayer senses over him. "What are you?" she asked as she came to a halt before the desk.

"Oh, I'm human," Doyle assured her. "Half anyway," he added.

"What's the other half?" Buffy asked, instinctively readying herself to attack.

"Bracken," he informed her. "But aside from a green face with spikes, and the need for an aspirin after the mind numbing visions, I'm completely harmless I assure you."

"Visions?" Buffy echoed, dismissing the description of facial features for a moment.

"Yeah, a little gift the Powers That Be," Doyle answered. "They sent me here to help you, and not just with Ms Post."

"That's how you saw her, through a vision?" Buffy guessed.

Doyle nodded. "She wants something from you, something evil. I can't see what though, the visions end in darkness."

Buffy's face suddenly became concerned. "Come with me," she uttered, before running out of the room, giving Doyle little choice but to follow her.

"Giles!" Buffy called out as she rushed into the library. "GILES!" She yelled as she found the room deserted.

Doyle entered slightly out of breath to find her running to the office, where the stunned librarian was lying on the floor, a wooden statue beside him.

The slayer cradled his head into her lap, and Doyle handed her a small silver flask. "Put it to his mouth," he suggested.

Buffy obeyed, watching anxiously as the drops of alcohol slowly revived her watcher and surrogate father. "Giles," she uttered.

"Buffy," he uttered, drawing her name out slowly as he came to. "Ms Post...."

"Knocked you out and stole the glove," Buffy finished, while Doyle rose to his feet to grab the phone and call 911.

"You must... must destroy the glove," Giles uttered slowly. "Use... Living... Flame..."

"Where did she go?" Buffy asked.

"Rest...field," Giles replied, groaning.

"I'll stay with him," Doyle promised her, and Buffy reluctantly nodded, before putting Giles' head gently on the floor, then rising to her feet and running out of first the office, then the library, then the school.

Buffy arrived just in time to witness Gwyneth Post slide the glove on to her hand. The clawed covered cloth clung to her fingers as she closed them into a fist, and the metal claws which surrounded the end snapped one by one on to her wrist, embedding themselves painfully into her flesh.

"Taou huogan maqachte milegaing!" She yelled, asking the glove's power to come to her so she could use it do what she willed.

Above them the sky crackled with thunder, lightning striking the demon which Buffy only now noticed was rushing towards Ms Post, only to fall headlong to his doom, the lightning burning his demonic body.

"Tauo freim!" Ms Post yelled, turning her hand towards Buffy.

Foreseeing instinctively what was coming the slayer dived behind the nearest gravestone, the lightning striking the ground where she had stood only moments later.

"Tauo freim!" Ms Post cried again, calling upon the glove to direct the lightning towards the grave. "There's nothing you can do to me now."

Buffy rolled backwards, landing heavily against a nearby crypt as the granite monument which she had been sheltering behind was split apart. She turned, noticing the stained glass windows which adorned the entrance of this crypt, then covered her eyes as the glass shattered around her.

"I have the glove," Ms Post uttered. "With the glove comes the power."

"I'm getting that," Buffy replied, grabbing the biggest piece of glass and rising to her feet. She threw the shard at Gwyneth, sending it to the woman's arm, watching as it severed the limb and glove from her body.

Above them the sudden storm turned erratic, lightning flaring out from all directions, causing the slayer to dive for cover once more. She hit the ground behind another gravestone and then peered over it, just as the lightning struck Ms Post, causing her to writhe in pain.

Lightning continued to strike her, until she disappeared.

The claws of the glove unsnapped from the lifeless arm one by one.

"So there's no more glove thingy?" Cordelia asked.

It was afternoon, and the slayer had returned to school, going back to the Library to find her watcher recovering slowly, and then witnessing Jenny and Doyle destroy the glove of Myhnegon a minute late.

"No. Little Living Flame, little mesquite, gone for good," Buffy replied.

"Sounds like we missed a lot of fun," Oz remarked.

"Then I'm telling it wrong," Buffy said. She turned as Giles joined their gathering in the student lounge, his left temple covered by a plaster. "Let me guess: Gwyneth Post: not a Watcher."

"Yes, she was," Giles explained. "Though her name was Gwendolyne. She was, uh, kicked out by the council a couple of years ago for misuses of dark power. They swear there was a memo."

"And Doyle?" Buffy asked. "Can we trust him?"

"Brackens are harmless, like he said," Giles answered. "And he proved his membership into the gang by staying with me whilst you slayed Ms Post and helping Jenny destroy the glove." He sighed, still a little worse for wear. "I hope whatever we face next time is easier than this was."

"Motion seconded," Buffy agreed, just before the bell rang, calling them back to class.

The End.
To Be Continued In.
John 52:54.

© Danielle Harwood-Atkinson 2021. All rights reserved.