All We've Lost: Getting where I want to be
by Rayne
As my plane made it’s descent into Los Angeles Airport, I realized that the plane wasn’t the only thing sinking. Had I made a mistake by coming to Los Angeles? After Willow was able to narrow down Angel’s general location, I managed to track down Angel’s specific whereabouts through some of the still very effective connections that I had in California – underground connections, that is. Putting all of my ducks in a row, I took a moment to telephone my dad and let him know that I was coming into Los Angeles for a visit. I guess I figured, why pay for a Hotel when dad’s spare bedroom was free. What can I say; I’m only human after all.

Grabbing my suitcase off of the baggage claim, I quickly – or not so quickly – made my way through customs and outside, jumping into one of the many cabs creating a yellow barrier outside of the building. I had considered going to my father’s house first, dropping off my baggage, and then going to find Angel. After careful consideration, however, I decided that if things didn’t turn out very well, I could easily get back onto a plane to Rome without having to explain to my father’s face why his daughter was running from Los Angeles so soon after she had arrived.

Giving the cabbie the address that Willow had assured me was the last location he was known to be, I sat back and took my first deep breath in nearly 10 years. ‘It’s now or never Buffy’ I told myself, ‘No going back now’. The cab driver attempted to make small talk while we continued on, I’m assuming, as an attempt to distract me from the unsettling mixture of cigarette smoke, body odor, and – fish? that overwhelmed the inside of his automobile. He told me that his name was Brian, 26, and a native of L.A. I wondered, momentarily, if perhaps I was supposed to recognize him from Hemery High, but figured that Los Angeles has many high schools and it was highly unlikely that I knew him.

After another 15 minutes of small talk, he stopped the cab and I looked out the window at a small brown apartment building located in what I would certainly not classify as one of the nicest neighborhoods in town. Paying the fair with a ten dollar tip, I climbed out of the cab, thanked Brian, and took a moment to gain an orientation of my surroundings. Now, had I been a female that wasn’t the Slayer, there was certainly no way you would have found me alone in this neighborhood. If I had been asked to provide an example of a ‘tough neighborhood’ this one would have been at the top of my list. Reassured that I could certainly take care of myself, two apocalypses under my belt and all, I started making my way toward the apartments.

An older gentleman in his late sixties was standing outside of the building, probably one of the poor unfortunate souls unlucky enough to call the streets their home. He seemed relatively settled in at his location and I assumed that he had probably been at this spot for quite some time. Approaching him, I squatted down, putting myself at his eye level and simply said “Angel” I’m not really sure if it was a question or a statement, but the gentleman seemed to understand what I was looking for and with a nod pointed toward a set of stairs leading to the lower level apartments, often called ‘garden view’ in nicer accommodations, and went back to sorting through the large bag of items in front of him.

With a gentle “thank you” I began making my way down the stairs, unsure of how I planned on finding the correct apartment; it’s not as if I was likely to find a name plate outside of his home designating this as ‘Angel’s Place’. The narrow staircase leading down was made of concrete and created a tomb like feeling as I descended it. Oddly, I didn’t much mind the feeling, it made this area feel cut off from the rest of the world, somehow making it seem safer. I realized, however, that the safe feeling I was experiencing had little to do with being cut off from the rest of the world; it was because I felt him. Angel was here and every bone in my body knew it, like his soul was singing out to mine, calling me nearer, deeper, longingly drawn into the only light in the dark abyss of my existence.

There was only one door in the lower level, leading me to assume that the entire lower floor was converted to one apartment. It took me a few moments to gain the courage to make any motions beyond staring at the wooden door before me and after enough deep breaths to make me feel seriously light headed, I lifted my hand and knocked.


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