disclaimers in part one


PART NINE

Buffy's house
August 21,1998
4:00 p.m.

Buffy sat on the verandah trying to collect the courage to go inside.  She had been sitting there for over an hour, ever since Giles had dropped her off. They had all wanted to come in with her, to support her, but she had refused. She had to face her mother on her own. Face yet another person whose life had been destroyed by her. Swallowing, she leaned back on the bench, letting the late afternoon sun warm her. She could feel her mother inside anxiously waiting, knew Willow had called her, but she couldn't make herself move. Once her home had been a haven from who she was, her mother lectures about being more responsible, to study more, to take things seriously giving her moments in which to believe she was a normal teenager. She watched the people walking on the road, children playing on bikes, Mothers pushing strollers. It all fit so perfectly in this neighborhood, the only thing that didn't fit was her.

Her eyes wandered over the front lawn, noticing it hadn't been mowed in weeks, and her mother's jeep was filthy. She looked around, suddenly noticing the rundown look of the entire house, the plants dead, the paint chipped. Feeling her stomach clench as a slight sweat broke out on her brow. Her mother never let stuff like this happen, well at least not
before she found out her daughter killed vampires. And then her daughter had run away, unable to give her any peace of mind. Her head swam as new guilt was added on. She had pictured her mother living just as they always had, not worrying, just being. Shaking her head at her folly she stood up realizing it was time to face her.

Taking a deep breath she put her hand on the doorknob. Turning it slowly she told herself to be calm, this wasn't a big deal. The thought tumbled around in her head for a moment until she looked at it and realized its truth. Nothing was very important in the face of her duty. In her life, for the rest of her life, everything else would come second. She had run from this truth, railed against it, even betrayed it. Now she would accept it. She could take the horror she felt at what had become of her life, at the things she had done and hone it into a weapon against evil.

Pulling open the door, she ignored the rolling of her stomach. She stepped into the cool comfort of her home. Looking around, she felt a strange sense of surprise. Everything looked exactly as it had...before. Somehow, she thought the changes in her would be reflected in the house. That the walls would be painted black and the furniture broken, mirroring the chaos in her mind, instead it was cool and quiet, everything bright, clean and in its place. Letting the door fall shut behind her she walked towards the living room. Her mother was sitting on the couch, cautiously watching her. Buffy just stood there, rooted to the ground. Her head flashed with images of the last night she had been in this house. Of the words between her and her mother. Remembering that the last time she had touched her mother had been to push her. She swallowed, her eyes begging her mother to forgive her.

"Buffy" Her mother spoke cautiously, her face tense, "Willow called. H-How are you?"

"Fine." She could speak these words, pretend everything was normal, like she was returning from her father's, just another summer with him in LA. "I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you worry. I sh..should have called."

Her mother stood, walked towards her. Buffy found herself stepping back, keeping the distance between them, unable to stop herself. Watching her mother's face fall she closed her eyes, trying to stay on top of the mound of guilt in her mind. "I'm....you talked to Willow?"

Her mother frowned, took a step away from her, "Yes. Buffy, I'm so sorry. They told me. I don't understand it. I believe you, but I don't understand it."

Buffy smiled bitterly at her, understanding the confusion she felt, she had felt it to, in the beginning, "Don't try. It just is. You have to accept it. I have...finally." She wandered further into the livingroom, struggling to keep her movements casual. She could feel her mother's questions, begging to be answered without her having to ask. Buffy swallowed, turning to face her mother once more.

Her mother looked so bewildered as she looked at her daughter, her eyes afraid, yet determined. "W-We should talk. I....Willow told me about that boy, your boyfriend, Angel. Do you want to talk?"

Buffy looked at her mother, her heart screaming yes, I want to. She wanted to throw herself into her mother's arms like she was five again and her mother could fix everything. When her words meant something and a hug could put right what was wrong. Her eyes filled with tears and she swallowed them back, understanding that the time for them was past. "No." Her voice coming out sharper than she had intended it to, lowering her voice she continued, "Thanks." She paused, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "I...I, can I...I need to be alone. Do you mind? I'm sorry, I just..."

She stood there praying her mother would let it go, not push it. She wasn't sure she could tell the story again and keep hold of her sanity. She watched her mother, seeing the myriad of emotions passing through her face. Finally her mother smiled sadly at her, "I love you Buffy, always."

Closing her eyes against the sudden rush of pain Buffy nodded, turning quickly she headed for the stairs, for escape. Feeling both relieved and disappointed with the reunion she began to climb the stairs. As her foot landed on the second step her mother grabbed her arm, pulling her back to her, wrapping her arms around her, holding her tightly. After a moment Buffy returned the hug, holding on to her mother like a lifeline. Speaking into her mother's shoulder, "I love you too." She broke the hug and turned back to the stairs, nothing fixed or solved, but maybe just a bit less painful. She continued up the stairs, pausing before going down the hall.

Walking into her room she gasped for air, unprepared for the assault of memories that hit her as she entered the room. Every inch of her room was covered in memories of Angel. Picturing him sleeping on her floor before she had even known what he was, the first kiss by the window when she found out. His cryptic guy visits through her window. The time she had caught him holding Mr. Gordo. Sinking to the floor she sat there, her eyes searching out every spot he had stood, remembering every word he had spoken. Seeing his leather jacket still hanging in her closet she flinched. Remembering all the times she had worn it, the feel of the leather against her arms, imagining it was him.

Shuddering she crawled along the floor towards her bed. The tears falling unnoticed as she realized that not only would Angel suffer the torments of hell, but she would never see him again, never kiss him through her window, never sit with him on her bed. She sat quietly, slowly rocking back and forth, the pain still a huge void inside her. He was gone, she was responsible for it. There was no way to ever make it up to him, to tell him she was sorry, to tell him she still loved him. There were so many things that were now gone forever. And not lost into the nostalgia of a past love but condemned forever to live on, an open wound. Pulling herself up onto her bed she sat, looking at the ring he had given her sitting in plan sight on her dresser. Standing she walked over and picked it up, staring it at for a long moment then slowly slipping it back onto its rightful place on her finger. Straightening up, her face becoming determined once again. He was gone forever, but her love wasn’t and neither was her duty. Walking slowly she went to her closet, taking the leather jacket off its hanger. She lay it on the bed as she quickly changed, letting her tears dry on her face, refusing to let any more fall. Leaving Angel's cross hanging around her neck where she had worn it since the day she had sent him to hell. She slipped his jacket on and after glancing at her closed bedroom door, she walked over to the window and quietly slipped out.

She headed quickly away from her house, determined to head to the library. Wanting to talk with Giles about the vampire activity in the area, and then head out on patrol. Her duty would not wait one night for her to adjust to being here again. She walked quickly, purposefully toward the library, not noticing when her path changed and she started heading towards Angel's apartment. It started to mist slightly as she walked, her head down she watched the drops landing on the pavement. Feeling the wind pick up she pulled Angel’s jacket tighter, her arms crossed, holding it together. The town changed, houses giving way to storefronts and run-down buildings. She slowed, then stopped, realizing were she was heading, the route her feet had taken. Standing there, planning on changing her path back to the library, but unable to take the steps. She stood frozen for a moment, the wind blowing through her mist dampened hair, her heart aching for what had been lost. Things she
could never change, never take back. She tried to walk away, to ignore the pain she knew waited for her in Angel’s apartment. But she couldn’t walk away, his voice was in her head, telling her to come, telling her not to worry. His voice telling her he loved her. Shuddering, she swallowed, struggling with the memories. Taking a deep breath she decided she had to go, had to say good-bye to Angel in the place where all his things were. To sit on his bed and remember only the good. To come to terms with what she had done, and how she would go on. Determined she began walking again, the rain another reminder of what she had lost.




*~*~*~*~*~*~*
PART TEN

The street outside Angel's apartment.
August 21, 1998
5:30 p.m.

Xander held Cordelia's hand tightly as they slowly walked towards Angel's apartment, trying to ignore the rolling of his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to turn and walk the other way, but was continuing forward, his jaw clenched. He attempted to loosen it, trying to keep any sign of his nervousness hidden from Cordelia. She must have noticed though because she squeezed his hand, silently telling him it was okay to be afraid. He looked over at her, amazed at how far they had come. Cordelia Chase walking with him in the rain. No complaints about her hair being ruined or her clothes getting wet. Smiling at her he pulled his hand from hers and draped his arm around her shoulders, needing more contact with her. Everything was in slow motion to him now, one building fading slowly into the next. His mind was remarkably clear for someone about to head into hell, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Even if his motives weren't all unselfish. He needed Willow and Buffy to forgive him and if Angel was back they would be much more likely to listen to his reasoning. His eyes clouded, thinking of Willow's words, once again thankful he wouldn't see Buffy before he did this for her.

Cordelia gasped softly, her steps slowing. He looked at her and then followed the direction of her stare to see. To see a figure walking slowly towards them. Her eyes focused downward, not aware of them yet. Xander stopped, his fingers gripping into Cordelia's shoulders, unable to move as Buffy slowly walked closer to them. Cordelia looked at him, her face a mask of pity. He smiled at her, reassuring her that he could handle this. Turning back to the figure, he looked right into Buffy's shocked face. Watched as the shock turned to anger, as her body tensed. She stopped walking, just stared at him, her eyes telling a tale of pain and betrayal. He felt his heart pounding, the pulse in his neck jumping. She walked slowly closer, the anger on her face hardening, becoming more evident in her eyes. She came to a halt only a few feet away from him. He looked at her, into her eyes for any sign of softness, any opening for him to talk to her through. He could feel the tenseness of Cordelia's body underneath his arm. Cordelia spoke first, her voice nervous, "Buffy."

Buffy swung her eyes to Cordelia, nodding coldly. She turned back to Xander, her eyes lingering on his arm wrapped around Cordelia's shoulder. He shifted, feeling his arm magnify under her gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden tightness in Buffy's mouth convinced him not to. She smiled softly at him, her hatred evident in the curve of her mouth, the hardness in her eyes. She spoke quietly, "You two look happy."

Her voice burned him, acid thrown in his face. He pulled his arm from Cordelia, understanding that his happiness was like a slap in the face to Buffy. He waited for her to continue, all thoughts of hell gone from his mind.

"Are you?" Her voice whipped through the air. Her stance was aggressive, he swallowed feeling the muscle in his jaw beginnning to twitch, realizing she may not be in control of her actions. He didn't answer her, understanding no words could get through to her now.

"Are you!?" Her voice loud now, she was leaning in close to him, intimidating him with the strength of her anger.

He shook his head, trying to force the word out, "No." His heart breaking from the hatred and pain in her voice.

She stepped back, her face calm again, speaking almost conversationally, "Why not?" Holding her hand up to keep him from answering she continued, "The demon is dead. Angel is dead. Things are how you wanted them."

He looked at her, trying to calm the shaking of his body, he began to speak, his voice sounding hollow to his ears, "Buffy...I...I thought, I w-wanted...."

"Stop." Her body was tense, ready to attack at any moment. Her voice was cracking, losing the coherence it had begun with, "Don't _you_ try to explain. Try to make it okay." Her breath was coming in short gasps, her fists clenched at her sides. Speaking slowly, her struggle for control evident in every word. "Angel is in hell. Things will never be _okay_ again." She stopped, her whole body vibrating with anger.

He watched her, tears forming in his eyes as he watched her control slip. Wanting to explain himself, he spoke softly, "But... Angel..."

"NO!" She sprung at him, knocking him to the ground. Standing over him she spat out wildly, "Don't you _ever_ speak his name. You have no right."

He lay there, frightened of what she would do next, but determined to let her do it. In the corner of his eye he could see Cordelia's terrified face. He watched her open her mouth to speak. Realizing that she was about to tell Buffy their plans. Shaking his head at her he mouthed the word no. Staring at her until she nodded, accepting his decision. He turned his eyes back to Buffy, afraid to try and get up. Realizing she may not only verbally hurt him, but physically. His eyes locked on hers and for one moment he saw beyond her blind rage into the hurt that was hidden there. His stomach clenched, his tears overflowing for her suffering.

Her face tightened once again, the rage hard for her to control, she stepped backwards away from him. He remained on the ground, waiting for the next nail to be placed in his coffin. Her lips curled as she considered him, her voice venom, " I trusted you. Even knowing how you felt about Angel, I trusted you." Her voice was shaking, her eyes burning into him, " I thought of you as my friend. Someone I could trust. Someone who trusted me."

Each time the word trust fell from her mouth Xander winced. The pain of her hate searing him. She continued, "You knew how much I loved him." Her voice breaking as she spoke. She swung her fingers together, copying Angel's stance, "You knew how guilty I felt over what I did to him, that I made him lose his soul." He could hear her anger rising in her voice again, "You knew how hard it would be for me to kill him." She stopped then, her eyes wandering away from him. She continued looking out into the night for so long that he knew she was somewhere far away, lost in memories. He stood quickly, shoulders slumped, knowing she would turn back to him soon.

Finally looking at him, she spoke, her face a distortion of itself in her rage, "You knew everything, and still you chose to betray me. You forced me to betray Angel. You sentenced me to that. You turned us both into betrayers." She paused, taking a breath, her eyes shooting hate at him, "You decided that Xander knew best. Xander is the best judge of who deserves life and who doesn't. Xander is the keeper of what's right and wrong in the world." Her voice was spinning out of control.

He stepped towards her, his mouth opening to speak. She glared at him, daring him to answer her. His mind was screaming that it wasn't like that. He had wanted to make it easier for her. He looked to Cordelia, needing her support. She was standing there, her face shocked, the unwilling witness to a massacre. Looking back to Buffy he waited for the rest of her words, his soul aching for what he had done to her. She looked him up and down, her face coated in revulsion. Speaking slowly, accentuating each word carefully. The poison dripping from each one, "We are betrayers. You and I. We take the love and trust others give us and we destroy it." Her voice getting louder as she spoke, "We destroy everything we touch for our own selfish reasons."

He stood, feeling his life disintegrate as she spoke. She paused, breathing deeply, he could see the struggle for control written on her face. She calmed her emotions slowly, holding her anger in check. The hatred still seeping from every pore on her face. Smiling softly she whispered, "It's done." His stomach dropped, fighting to keep himself from collapsing, his eyes pleading with hers to forgive him. She took a step as if to walk away and then stopped, staring at him for a long minute. Then, her voice thick with disgust she spoke one last time, "Next time you decide to be judge and jury don't sign me up as your executioner."

Xander stared at her in shock as she walked away. His eyes following her as she disappeared back into the night. His mind telling him she couldn't really believe he had set her up to kill Angel, but the memory of the hatred in her eyes told him she did. He was silent, hoping she would come back, let him explain his actions. Cordelia reached out to him, her hand resting on his arm. Looking at her, at the pity in her face. She smiled sadly then spoke softly, "She doesn't mean it Xander, she's just in such pain." He looked at her, wanting to believe her words, but unable to.

He shook his head, the tears still running down his face, "But she's still right. Isn't she? I stole her choice." His shoulders were slumped, his voice detached, "Maybe Angel deserved to die, maybe he didn't. It wasn't my choice to make for her. It was hers. And I took it." He stopped, straightening his shoulders, his face determined, "And I'll give it back to her. I'll give him back to her, and then she can have her own choice."

Cordelia didn't answer him, just squeezed his arm softly. Then she slowly removed her hand, pointing to her watch and looking towards Angel's apartment. He looked at her, realizing it was time for him to make things right again. Taking her hand they slowly walked into the building.


CONTINUE