Creative Works
Memories Recalled (Page 2)
By Jessi Knorr
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. They're Joss', aka The Devil. I own
Sage, Summer, Tia, Cora and all the other weird people, plus the plot.
Author's Notes:People, feedback is the word! Email
me, or even better, head to the Addiction and read
more!! But please send me feedback.Or do you want me to quit writing and
take over the Store like my mom wants??
. . .
Chapter 1
The three stood in a most unnerving silence.
"Can you run that by me again Will?" Buffy asked her redheaded roommate,
pulling out of Angel's embrace. Willow looked
down again at the ancient book in her hands to make sure she'd read the
passage correctly.
"Well... there seems to be a... time limit, on this, if you will." Willow finally
said.
"On my mortality?" Angel questioned with his brows knitted in confusion.
"On your memory. I'm sorry I didn't see this before, really I am. It says
here, said subject upon whom the Mortality
Incantation has been preformed shall loose all anamnesis of his past life
within a day of the spell being cast and his
mortality being returned. So basically... " Willow stopped to look at her book
again with guilt in her expression. "You have 20
hours together before Angel looses all memory of this. He won't remember
what he did, or rather what Angelus did, who we all
are. Not even his own name."
"But there's a way to reverse this, right?" the former vampire asked.
"You see, that's the big let-down. With the Mortality Incantation, the
demon's banished to the deepest pit of the Netherworld,
where he wouldn't be able to get free even if we wanted him-it to. So if we
do reverse the spell and restore your vampirism,
there's no way the demon can get back and we would have to get you... bitten
again. You'd loose all hope of getting your soul
back again, and even if we didn't get you bitten by another vampire, you'd
either collapse because the one thing that held you
this long in this reality is gone or you'd combust because of your exposure
to sunlight. I'm sorry. I was really stupid, this is all my
fault."
"Willow, it's not, " Buffy said softly to her guilt filled friend. "There are
always strings somewhere. I was the one who... suggested
we go though Giles' stuff to... find out about them. We didn't know what we
would find."
"And... of course, I was the one... who got Giles... and then who made Xander nearly
die from the Black Burn, Oz's lanthropy
almost permanent... Giles was right, I'm not cut out for this kind of work. I
never was and never will."
"Willow, you're one of the best wiccans I've ever encountered, " Angel
offered. "And I've seen a lot. You've helped us for the
worst things we could get into. You unsealed the Box of Gavrok; you helped
us bind the hellmouth again; you restored my soul.
And I'd never be able to show you how grateful I am for that. Never."
"Yeah, but I've done more bad then good! If it weren't for me Giles
wouldn't... have gotten... " she let the comment drift into the
sunny summer afternoon. "Well, you have 20 hours left together. I don't want
to screw it up anymore. I suggest you two... do
anything you've ever wanted and take in the best while you can. I'm sorry,
truly." Willow snapped the book belonging to the
former watcher closed and sulked off into the day lit campus of UC
Sunnydale, leaving the Slayer and her once undead
boyfriend to their day.
"It's not her fault. We all told him to move." Buffy said quietly.
"But it was too late, " Angel added sorrowfully. "Let's go. She's right,
we've got to spend the day to the fullest. Make it a day to
remember, even if I never will." Buffy took his hand in hers and they walked
off across the street.
They did make it a day to remember: using up the morning and half the
afternoon at the beach outside town. They'd gone
swimming in the ocean because Angel had pushed Buffy in off the small sand
dune that over looked the water first, built a
sandcastle afterward that was pretty crappy in the Slayer's eyes thanks to
an immature graduate who had tried to edge past
Angel to get to her, and then gone looking in the canteen for cold cream
because the vampire had produced a rather ugly
sunburn being out in the light for the first time in two hundred and forty
years. They'd shopped in downtown Sunnydale later and
went through the ridiculous number of novelty shops, just joking about the
things on display. They'd sifted through three whole
racks of sunglasses, the Slayer saying she needed a new pair, and she still
remembered how weird Angel looked in the ones that
were five sizes way too big. They had settled on a matching pair of ray bans
and went around the rest of the day browsing the
Beanie Baby retailers. About an hour after sunset, they'd retired back to
the mansion to do something they hadn't ever been
able to do, with the exception of Buffy's 17th birthday, even if they hadn't
known about Angel's curse.
For four and a half-hours they savored the taste, smell and feel of each
other, not having to worry if Angel would covert to his
alter ego afterward. They slept in each other's arms for another two hours
then, at the Slayer's request, went outside to spend
their remaining two hours together under the stars. When they were outside,
Buffy had fallen asleep within the first fifteen
minutes. Angel left her to sleep in the lawn chair they'd been sitting in,
kissed her wet hair, and walked to the cliff that over
looked the town below.
This was where he'd nearly killed himself one Christmas. The events of that
year, two before, were still a little blurry to him,
having been disoriented upon his return from the demon dimension. He still
didn't know who, or what, had actually brought him
back, but he was thankful. Thankful for everything he'd been blessed with
and allowed to cherish once more. He was of course
forever in debt to Buffy's friends, the 'slayerettes'. Especially to Willow
for finding the spell to restore his soul, and later his
newfound humanity. The others, Oz, Xander, Giles, were all so comforting to
him even when he'd maimed and caused them
harm during his six months trapped by his surfaced alter ego. He was more or
so entitled to Buffy for actually having faith in him
when he was evil and upon his return to earth. Even before that, for just
loving him. He never thought he'd know the love of a
real woman after he'd been turned so long before. But he did and he was
grateful for every second of their commitment to him.
Angel shut his eyes and nostalgically reflected on his entire life, the
first 27 mortal years then the 240-some immortal years
following. A smile touched his lips as he remembered the many follies
Buffy's second so called watcher Wesley faced; getting
creamed at the ascension... *What an idiot. Glad he went.* Another grin
formed as he recalled the many jokes and quips
Xander always made, the innocent comments of Willow often on some difficult
prophecy, at the innocence of the tight wound
group of friends. The four of them, all teenagers. Only one was truly
destined for a short death but the remaining still wanted to
assist, to help her out. Then there was always Giles, the English
librarian/watcher. And Cordelia, poor, snobby Cordelia.
Brushed with infatuation when she met Wesley, ignored when she'd left for
Los Angeles. Only the lord knew what was to come
of her.
Angel sighed and shook of the forthcoming retrospect, the sadder reminisces.
Of those who were destroyed assisting the
Slayer, and especially by his own hands. *This could be gone at any time.
Don't waste your last thoughts brooding.*
Replacing the upsetting images, he pushed in thoughts of the past few months
since he'd gone back to Sunnydale. The fall of
Buffy's only other father, as her biological father was divorced from her
mother, by the talons and teeth of a Hell Beast released
through a weak gap at the Hellmouth. They'd attempted to bind it back, but
Willow had fumbled, and the creature had Giles in
its grasp before they could react. Angel still saw the flashes of blood, the
splatter of organ tissue, the sound of tearing flesh and
fabric, the crunch of his skull as the Beast crushed it. And the look of
pure, undeniable torture Buffy's features were creased
with. The Thing didn't even see the large spear she was holding until she'd
driven it through its chest for the tenth time, only then
finally releasing the corpse of her watcher.
The former vampire squinted against the visions and once again replaced them
with images of the day gone by, finally being able
to see his true love in direct light without having to ignite and turn to a
dust clot. He was of true flesh, warm again, with a hunger
for real food. Being able to feel his heart beating and his chest heaving as
he chased the Slayer through Weatherly Park
attempting to recover his stolen wallet was a very new experience. Being
able to feel her without the barrier of clothing was as
well a new experience, or one that wouldn't result in him attempting to maim
and kill her afterward.
He finally opened his eyes to the peaceful view of the first faint rays sun
rising over the Pacific, barely lighting Sunnydale below.
Angel glanced at his watch. Five Thirty. *How has it been an hour?*
Something thumped softly in his head, against his
temples. It grew with each second, but stopping before it reached headache
status. Angel felt his brain, part by part, being
cloaked in a thick darkness. He soon couldn't talk, couldn't see. Couldn't
breath. He also felt his knees buckle uncertainly.
Angel fell to the soft earth and dug his nails into the soil. He moaned
softly and thought of one last thing before he finally fell to
the ground. The portrait of Buffy he'd drawn in the park earlier that
afternoon, the soft cheeks, her deep swirling eyes, the
fullness of her soft, pouty lips. Then all was gone and he hit the ground of
the cliff.
. . .
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