Truth: Truth
by Claddagh
Only the idea for the story is mine. All characters are Joss Whedon's own, and I take credit for nothing but the story line. If Joss has a problem with the story, he can go ahead and sue me. What do you want - my little brother, my messy room, or my homework?
Also I have used a song in this story, called "What I Did for Love" from the Broadway musical "A Chorus Line". Conceived, Choreographed and Directed by Micheal Bennett; Book by James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante; Music by Marvin Hamlisch; Lyrics by Edward Kleban; Co-Choreographer Bob Avian.
This was written over the summer, right after "Becoming" aired.
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Buffy stared out the bus window, not seeing or caring what lay beyond the smoked glass. The endless motion of the bus kept her mind filled with nothing, a blissful state that kept her more important, more unpleasant thoughts at bay.
Slowly she became aware that they had stopped at a small town so that the driver and passengers could stretch their legs. Her body moved with a will of its own, disregarding the semi-absence of a controlling brain, propelling her out of the bus doors and into the town beyond.
Somehow, by the time she returned to the bus, she found that she had purchased several pencils, art pads, notebooks, and a few bags of food. After a moment, she picked up a pencil and began to journal - everything she could remember about him and his story.
She revisited all of the pain, knowing that she had to confront it to heal it. Remembering him as he had looked the first time she met him. When he was worried. When he was happy. Mischievous. Determined. Rueful. When he looked at her, love shining in his eyes.
As he had looked on that awful - wonderful? - night, the night of her 17th birthday.
Though she didn't want to, she went on; went on to write about that terrible "morning after." When he became mocking. Angry. Spiteful. Dishonest. Evil.
And thoguh it nearly broke her heart, she put to paper, in words and images, the way he had looked when his soul was returned to him again - confused, bewildered, desperately hopeful. As he had looked when her glittering sword had spitted him like so much undead shishkebob and she had literally let him go to hell - stunned, shocked, uncomprehending, pleading, betrayed.
* * *
She finished her illustrated testament to him the night she reached Los Angeles. Her father was stunned, but one look at her told him that any questions could wait. Her hair was unkempt, her clothing rumpled, and - most disturbing - her eyes were haunted and distant as though she carried some great burden on her soul.
Buffy took no more than the time necessary to change and brush her teeth before collapsing onto the couch in utter exhaustion.
* * *
Buffy didn't realize she was dreaming until he appeared before her. Her mouth opened in surprise, but no sound came out for several seconds. "Angel," she finally croaked. "My God..."
She couldn't face the look in his eyes, the combination of accusation, anger, bitterness, incomprehension, and sadness; but it was the overwhelmingly hopeless love that still colored all the other emotions she could read on his face that caused her heart to wrench painfully in her chest. Burying her face in her hands, she voiced the agonizing grief and guilt she had carried with her since he died; "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry; God! I'm sorry..."
His hands took her shoulders and made her look at him. "It's all right, Buffy," he whispered gently, but all she had to do was look at his face to see that it wasn't. She shivered.
"I just want to know...why?" he pleaded. His grip tightened, imploring her with that unconscious motion to give him some kind of peace.
Her face crumpled into a grimace af anguish. "I-I don't know. I don't know!" They both knew that he wasn't talking about the pure Slayer aspect of the thing, that if she hadn't killed him the entire world would have been sucked into hell. They both knew that there had been more; and they both knew that neither knew what it was; and suddenly she had an inkling of a thought.
The spell was so old - maybe something had been accidently changed - certainly before she had killed him - "Have you remembered yet?" She needed to know before she could answer him.
"...Remembered what?"
So she was right! "Well, maybe that's it, then." Tears streamed down Buffy's face and all the pent-up stress from the last few days manifested itself in soul-baring anger. "Maybe I didn't want to live out the rest of my life knowing that my boyfriend had done everything that you've done! Maybe just knowing that you didn't...that you *couldn't* feel at all guilty for everything that you've caused or said or attempted, because you couldn't even remember doing it, was not a prospect that I particularly relished! Now I think I know how Jenny's people must have felt, except that I actually *care* about you!" She spat out the word 'care' as though it were a foul taste in her mouth.
Angel recoiled from her obvious hurt and anger. "What did I do to you?" he whispered, stunned by the force of her bitter hurt.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all..." she said sarcastically. "You only tried to mess with all humanity.
"Do you want me to start at the beginning? Well, let's see...you lost that precious soul of yours, decided that it was necessary to insult me, then barbecued Willow's fish, took up with Spike and Drucilla at which time you decided that she was a pretty good replacement for me, and...and..." She faltered, fighting a fresh wave of tears. "Well...Jenny...she was...getting close to finding...away to restore your soul...and...you..."
Buffy tried to swallow, to release some of the tension in her chest and throat that had turned her voice into a strained, gasping whisper.
She collapsed, shuddering. "You brought your own doom, you know. Opening the gates of hell...it was your idea!" she continued, her voice gaining strength despite the dry sobs that refused to let the tears fall.
Angel had dropped to his knees as memory flooded over him. Now his face was a drawn mask of horror as it sank in; all the people he had hurt, people who had once been his friends. Friends - he laughed a bitter internal laugh as terrible guilt assaulted his conscience. Until he had met Buffy, he had never had anyone he could call a friend. And then he had turned on her.
As Angel lifted his horrified, guilt-ridden face to her, Buffy came into his arms and held him tightly, as though he would slip away and leave her alone again. With a sad smile, deciding to state the obvious, she added, "Besides, killing you was also the only way to keep the entire world from being sucked into hell. I wish I had had a better choice."
Finally Angel found his voice. "Buffy," he began hoarsely, "you've got to go back. Otherwise, Sunnydale's doomed."
"There's nothing there for me anymore..."
"Of course there is! You left because of me, didn't you, because of the memories. You left people who love you and care about you, and you left because of me!
"Buffy, you know I love you, but you can't abandon the rest of your life because of all this. Please; if for no other reason, go back for me," he begged her.
"Angel, I-I can't...All right," she gave in. "All right, I'll go back. You're right, I've got myself saddled with a lifetime career, and part of the job description is to go where I'm needed." She paused. "Thanks."
Suddenly he winced, as thoguh he had been pinched. "I have to go soon," he announced regretfully. "We might or might not see each other again, so..." He tried to smile and failed miserably.
And then somehow she was in his arms and he was kissing her, holding her as if he would never let her go. Her senses reeled, and she clung to him, hoping to God that...
She gave a small gasp as she realized he was beginning to disappear, even as she held him. "Remember, I'll always love you," he whispered, as the otherworld claimed him once more.
Buffy was crying again, but this time there was a smile on her face.
* * *
The next morning, Mr. Summers walked into the living room - and walked out again with a puzzled look on his face. There was no trace of his daughter anywhere. Had it all been a dream? He shouldn't have eaten those chili dogs at the picnic yesterday. Did funny things to his system.
* * *
There was a smile playing around Buffy's lips as she twisted Angel's Claddagh ring around her finger - heart in, of course. She reminiscently hummed a half-remembered song as she rode the bus toward Sunnydale - and home.
"Kiss today goodbye
The sweetness and the sorrow
Wish me luck, the same to you
But I can't regret what I did for love, what I did for love
Look, my eyes are dry
The gift was ours to borrow
It's as if we always knew
And I won't forget what I did for love, what I did for love
Gone...love is never gone
As we travel on
Love's what we'll remember
Kiss today goodbye
And point me toward tomorrow
We did what we had to do
Won't forget, can't regret what I did for love
What I did for love
What I did for love
Love is never gone
As we travel on
Love's what we'll remember
Kiss today goodbye
And point me toward tomorrow
We did what we had to do
Won't forget, can't regret what I did for love
What I did for love
What I did for love."
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