The Way it Should Be: Truth
by Whitney
Chapter Two: Truth

Angel’s hands gripped his steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Buffy…

It was not too long ago since the last time he saw her. She had been standing alone over her mother’s grave, grieving, but only in her heart. It was not until she sensed his presence and he offered his hand for comfort that her façade crashed into the ground.

They sat under an old oak, Angel listening to the Slayer pour out her emotions. It almost seemed normal to him, like when they were together. Happy. He had nearly forgotten what happiness felt like. That is, until he heard the news from Xander.

There he had been, sobbing in his room like a young boy, ensconcing himself in the dark recesses of his secluded room. The days had bled together since Buffy’s death; he really hadn’t known how much time had past. It seemed only yesterday when he and the gang had returned to Los Angelus after their long ordeal in Pylea.

There’s no place like…

Buffy’s dearest friend, Willow, was sitting on his couch uncomfortably, like she felt she didn’t belong. Angel had to withhold his inevitable intake of breath, though it was unneeded. He knew immediately when he witnessed the sorrow etched into the redhead’s kind features.

It’s Buffy.

He was in denial for months. He told himself every day that she couldn’t possibly be gone. He had just seen her… Reality struck him when he received her funeral invitation in the mail. He knew he should have gone, to support little Dawn. He knew, yet he could not bear to see her lovely face, pale with death, being put in the ground for eternity. He wanted to keep his last memory of her a happy one.

So after many months, he cried every night in his room. He performed his daily routine robotically, to appear strong to Cordy, Gunn, Fred, Wes, and Lorne. He needed to keep his hero’s image to maintain his group’s morale. They had a job to do. But at the end of the day, when he was finally alone, tears fell, and there was no stopping it. His aching soul wept long into the night. One fateful night, his mourning was interrupted by a phone call. Wiping his eyes and clearing his throat, he picked up the telephone.

He began to speak, emotion unmistakably tight in his voice. “Angel Investigations, we help the…”

“Hey Dead Boy, it’s only me. You can stop with that now.” A voice so distinctly Xander interrupted the vampire’s rehearsed speech.

Angel grimaced at the use of his old (unwanted) nickname. “Xander, what do you want?” How dare he joke around during this time? Doesn’t anyone mourn anymore?

On the other line, Xander could hear Angel wince. He grinned. “Yeah, nice to talk to you, too,” he deadpanned.

“Is there any particular reason you’re calling or are you purposefully trying to annoy me?” What could he possibly want?

Xander sobered up. He had wanted Willow to do this, but she said that Angel might be glad to finally hear from him. He knew this was total bull; she just wanted him to be the bearer of good news to Angel. Supposedly, she believed this would help them reconcile in some way. “It’s Buffy.”

Angel’s eyes snapped open. How could it get any worse? She was already gone from his life forever. The only woman he had loved in over 200 years… ashes. “What is it?” he asked the boy warily.

How can I say this without sounding crazy? Xander pondered. “Willow brought her back.” Yeah, that works.

Angel’s rage flared. “Xander, I realize that we didn’t…” Angel pondered for a moment, attempting to find a better word. “…I mean, don’t get along…”

Xander’s reply was a derisive snort. “Congratulations, Mr. Understatement of the Year.”

Angel somehow managed to keep calm. Maybe it was because he was slowly ripping his sheets to threads with his fingernails. He continued, “…but this is beyond low, even for an idiot such as yourself. Lucky for you, I have respect for Buffy, so I’ve decided not to drive down there only to rip you limb from limb. I hope to never hear from you again.” With a sense of satisfying closure, Angel moved to hang up the receiver with a bang, only to hear the boy’s annoying yammering, calling him back.

“Are you done ranting yet? This isn’t a prank, you self-righteous ass! I’m dead serious.” Xander groaned and smacked himself in the forehead. No pun intended.
Wow, Xand, this is going well. Luckily, his comment kept Angel from hanging up. “Willow. She performed a spell to bring Buffy back from whatever Hell dimension her soul was being tortured in. We saved her, man.”

Angel choked back a cry. This was actually real. Buffy, his Buffy, was home, for good. He had one for chance to hold her, kiss her, run his fingers through her silky hair. Already, he could almost smell her vanilla fragrance that was truly her. He silently thanked the PTB for this undeserved blessing. He had one more chance for love. And this time, he wasn’t going to blow it. And yet… there was that awful lingering feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Nothing ever ended smoothly.

And now, here he was, as nervous as an inexperienced teenager on his first date. Slowly blinking, he oriented himself. Why are you worried about this? You know Buffy. She knows you, better than anyone. This won’t be awkward. What if it’s awkward? Calm down.

This is the spot… Angel thought as he pulled his car into the secluded parking lot. Secluded, except for one other car, still in the distance. With his keen vampiric sight, he observed the vehicle. Grinning, he had no doubt it was Buffy’s, what with the dents and scratches covering its entire surface.

She never had let him in the car with her. “What, do you have a death wish?” she had admonished him. Suddenly, Angel realized he was chortling. He had not had the strength to even utter a giggle ever since… it happened. Clearing his thoughts, he prepared himself to be reunited with his one true love. If his heart could beat, it would have been working double-time. His precise predator’s eyes caught a petite figure wading in the surf, her body enveloped in a holy glow from a street lamp. He unnecessarily inhaled sharply as he walked across the white grains of sand to her.

Without turning, she sensed him. “Hey,” she said, her eyes on the velvet navy of the sky. One casual word held a thousand meanings. Her hair, loose and wild, flew behind her in the breeze. It carried her scent to him.

“Hey,” he replied, almost achingly. He fidgeted uncomfortably, then kicked off his shoes and stood next to her in the tide. “You look…”

She gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes worn out and weary. Smiling only slightly, she waited for him to finish.

“…tired.” As soon as the word escaped his lips, his conscience roared to life inside of him. Tired?! What the hell are you trying to do? Grimacing, Angel awaited her reaction.

Surprisingly, Buffy began to laugh. She laughed so hard until her body shook. “Wow,” she giggled, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Now there’s a line every girl wants to hear.” Turning to him, she continued to tease, “You sure have become suave with the ladies since our time apart.” Her laughter was unrelenting; she held her sides in pain. Then, the laughter turned into sobs. Wracking sobs, filled with immeasurable pain.

Angel was completely unprepared for this. He knew that when Cordelia was menstruating, she acted somewhat similar to this. PMS, she called it. This didn’t seem quite the same, and he thought it might be somewhat presumptuous to mention it.

“Buffy…” He began, his heart crying out for her. He took a hold of her slim shoulders and held her tightly. “I know what you’re going through. I don’t know exactly what those bastards did to you there, but you’re safe now. Please, don’t cry. You’re safe now.”

Another thing happened that Angel wasn’t expecting. Buffy groaned… in annoyance, it seemed. She pulled away from his strong and loving embrace and began to walk out of the shallow water.

Perturbed, Angel followed, and then sat down next to her in the sand. She had her head between her knees, and her crying became stifled. “Angel…” she began quietly.

“What did they do to you?” he demanded in a quiet rage. His vampiric features were straining to be shown. “Buffy?”

Suddenly, Buffy’s face reappeared out from between her knees. Tears streamed down her lovely face, now pale and thin from stress. Her hazel eyes now had the haunted quality that Angel’s possessed. It chilled him to the core.

“I wasn’t in Hell.” she murmured, opening her wounds. “I was in Heaven.”


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