NOTE: I have written fanfic for about a year privately, but this is my first one I’m letting people read. Don’t be too harsh on me. The whole thing takes place in Sunnydale unless otherwise marked. Buffy came back to Sunnydale, but Angel is still in Hell. Considering my name, it will be a big surprise that there’s hardly any Xander in here. This is an unusual fanfic for me. If you don’t like it, don’t avoid me forever. ;)
SPECIAL THANKS to my friend Erica, who told me this story was good and helped me think of the title. (And a buldozer relates to Buffy—how?)
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the Buffy stuff. I obviously own Gillian and Jake and all that junk. I sorta borrowed part of L.J. Smith’s soulmate principle. I thought up some of that, but not all. She gets credit for it ‘cuz I’m not smart enough to think of that whole soulmate principle. So, in less words—L.J. Smith owns the soulmate principle. I’m not making any money off of this unless you want to send me some, so in the words of Principal Snyder (The tiny, impetent Nazi with a bug stuck up his butt as big as an emu), "Don’t sue." (I mean, all you’ll get is a collection of Buffy tapes with Prophecy Girl missing. It’s not worth your time.)
Even though they were dreaming, it was more of a memory or a signal than a dream.
In both of their minds, the scenes flashed over and over. The gravestones with a tiny girl crying by them. A warm, gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up
with big, sapphire eyes filled with tears. He gazed back down at her with warm, brown eyes filled with sympathy.
The scene shifted. A kiss. Hesitant, uncertain at first, then deeper, more intense and passionate. They pulled away reluctantly and the blue and brown eyes locked again. They felt themselves being drawn into each others' minds.
Once inside, the memories stopped and the signal began.
Inside his mind, she saw pain and suffering and longing to have the love back. She saw him reaching out to someone, anyone, trying to get the sense of belonging
back. She saw him ripped fiercely from his body as the demon took over and saw the hurt as he watched himself destroy and kill. Then she saw him sucked into Hell and all the torturing he endured as the memories of what he did plauged him.
Inside her mind, he saw longing and desperate loneliness. He saw her sulking, withdrawing herself from the rest of the world, knowing his love could never be
replaced. He saw her reverting back to her former self. The quiet, vengeful, whirlwind of anger she had been before he came along.
* * *
In Jackson, Missouri, a redhead with sparkling sapphire eyes filled with tears shot up alone in her cold, lonely bed. "Angel," she whispered.
The redhead, Gillian, made a promise to herself. "I will find Angel. And we will both finally have some peace."
* * *
Gillian stepped off the bus into the quiet night. Ever since that first dream, others had been following. From there, Gillian followed her intuition and it had taken
her to Sunnydale, California, home of the Hellmouth.
As she walked down the street, she heard the heartbeat and footsteps of someone behind her. Just as she was about to get out of there, a wave of pain
overpowered her. she thought, even as she sank to the ground.
* * *
Buffy turned the corner and saw a tiny girl with curly red hair walking down the street in front of her. Buffy wondered.
Just as this thought entered her head, the girl collapsed. Buffy hurried over to her. "Hey, are you okay?" Buffy asked.
But all the tiny girl would reply was, "Angel."
* * *
As the library door swung open, Giles looked up from his book, startled. He saw Buffy walking in with a small redhead following.
"H—hello. W—who are you?" Giles asked in that stammering way of his.
"My name is Gillian," the redhead said.
"She says she knew Angel in the '20s. Why she's still alive is beyond me," Buffy said.
"I can't believe he got sucked into Hell. Poor Angel," Gillian said, sitting in a chair.
"You said you'd tell me about and you and Angel when we got to the library. Now tell," Buffy said, also sitting.
Gillian glanced at Giles. "I guess I'll start from the beginning. In 1924, when I was fourteen, I found out I was the Slayer. One night when I was coming home after patrolling, my whole life changed . . ."
* * *
APRIL, 1924
Gillian was walking home from the cemetery, where she had been patrolling. She couldn't wait to get home to see her parents, her little brother, Josh, and her older sister, Caroline. She missed her family. She hadn't seen them very much since she found out she was the Slayer two months ago.
Gillian opened the door to her house. "Mom? Dad?" she called. When no answer came, she tried again. "Josh? Caroline?"
Gillian walked into the living room. When she saw what was in there, she screamed. And she didn't stop screaming until Jake came running down the block and
found her there. When he did, he held Gillian against his chest, but nothing he did seemed to make her stop crying.
* * *
ONE WEEK LATER
Gillian was sitting in the cemetery, leaning against the grave of her little brother with her head bent to the ground, crying. When she had found the mutilated bodies
of her family a week ago, it had scared her. It meant that, somehow, the vampires had found out that she was the Slayer.
Jake, her Watcher, had taken her in since she had no other living relatives.
Gillian felt more tears start to slide down her face and a sob escape her lips.
Gillian thought.
Gillian felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see a tall, strong-looking guy standing in front of her. The thing was, through he looked like he could crush her tiny body with his bare hands, his touch was calming rather than intimidating.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting down beside Gillian, not taking his hand off her shoulder. "Sorry to hear about your family."
"H—how did you know?" Gillian asked.
"I get around. Do you know who did it?"
"N—no." Gillian would've been pissed at him if his hand hadn't made her so calm.
"I hate it when the vampires find out who the Slayer is. She's never safe after that."
Gillian's head snapped up. "What?"
"You're the Slayer. That's why your family was murdered."
"H—h—how did you know about—"
"Like I said, I get around." He removed his hand from her shoulder and she shivered without the calm his touch brought.
"I'm Gillian."
"I know."
"Aren’t' you gonna tell me your name?"
He sighed. "It's better that you don't know."
"Why?" Gillian's sapphire eyes filled with determination and he sighed again.
"My name's Angelus."
"Interesting name. What does it mean?"
Angelus waved his hand dismissingly. "It's not important."
"What are you doing here?" Gillian was starting to get angry, as she should’ve in the first place.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. To see if you need a friend." At the last part, Angelus said it hopefully, as if he needed a friend.
"I don't need anyone," Gillian said coldly, anger finally sinking in.
"Fine," he said, getting up. "But if you ever change your mind, I'll be there."
Angelus walked off and Gillian was surprised to feel a longing and a wishing that he would come back. "You don't need him, Gillian," she told herself. "You don't
need anyone."
* * *
EARLY JUNE, 1998
"I was stubborn and cold. Everyone I loved was killed and I had nothing to say about it. There was no way I was getting involved—even if it was a friendship—ever again," Gillian said, looking at Buffy with her clear blue eyes.
"Well, if he left, how did you guys meet up again? And why are you still alive?" Buffy asked.
"We met up again a year and a half later. I was under pressure to find who killed my family and felt like I couldn't hold on much longer . . ."
* * *
OCTOBER, 1925
The vampire shrieked as he was slammed up against the tree.
"Are you going to tell me or do I have to hurt you more?" Gillian said through clenched teeth.
"Spike," the vampire choked out. "It was Spike."
"Thank you," Gillian said, plunging a stake into the vampire's heart. Only when he turned to dust did Gillian realize her mistake. "Spike who?" she asked the night.
She was surprised when someone answered. "His real name is William. William the bloody. He's a vicious vampire who has killed the only Slayer he faced in his
short life—127 years. He found out you're the Slayer and he's the one who killed your family. I've know since it happened."
Gillian whirled around to see Angelus standing in front of her. "Then why didn't you tell me?"
"You said you didn't need help. But this is putting you in danger. Spike's dangerous."
"I said I didn't need anybody and I don't." Gillian turned to go, but Angelus grabbed her arm. Once again, Gillian felt an overall calming affect at his touch.
"I've been watching you, Gillian. The way you fight. I can tell you're angry and about to explode. You need someone to be there for you when you do. And I need someone, too."
Gillian tried to turn away, but their eyes were locked together and she couldn't seem to stop staring into his inviting brown eyes.
"You? What could you possibly know about suffering?" she finally asked.
Angelus looked down and let go of her arm. "Plenty," he said, almost in a whisper. Gillian once again felt a cold numbness without his touch.
Desperately wanting the calm peacefulness back, Gillian rested her hand on his arm. "Can you tell me about it?" she asked softly. The calm was back.
"You don't wanna know. You'll run away from me and I'll never see you again."
"I promise not to run."
Angelus didn't like this. With her hand on his arm, he felt almost as if he had to do what she wanted for fear of breaking the calm connection. Slowly, he said,
"All right. But you promised."
As if he was afraid to do so, Angelus's face shifted to the features of a vampire. He watched as the horror spread across Gillian's face.
"You're a vampire?" She dropped her hand, ready to run. "How do I know you're not Spike?"
Angelus's face shifted human again. "I would've already killed you. Do you still want to hear my story?"
Angelus saw the uncertainty mixed with fear on Gillian's face. He desperately wanted her to understand him and be his friend. "Pleas listen," he whispered as he reached out for her hand.
Before, whenever they had touched, there was always a layer of clothing separating them. But now, as their hands touched, bare skin to bare skin, sparks flew.
Gillian looked up into Angelus's eyes and knew, somehow, that he would never hurt her.
Angelus looked down into Gillian's eyes and saw that she didn't want to run away from him.
Gillian gave a half-smile. "Tell me, Angelus," she said softly.
"I was changed—to a vampire—in 1753 in Ireland. The things I did to people—they'd give you nightmares. I was a ruthless, uncaring vampire just like any other. Then I tortured a gypsy girl about 25 years ago. Her clan cursed me with my soul. The pain—It was unbearable. You don't know what it's like to have done the things I've done—and to care." A tear ran down his cheek. "I’m not asking you to forget what I've done. I'm just asking you to forgive me long enough to be my friend."
Gillian looked down to where their hands were still clasping each other’s. As she stared at their intertwining fingers, she realized how much she missed the friendships Caroline and Josh had always offered. She had a feeling he missed friendships, too. "Okay," Gillian whispered finally. "I can do that."
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