Disclaimer: Buffy, Angel, Spike, Dru and the rest of the Slayerettes belong to the creative genius of Joss Whedon. The ideas, as well as Star and Mr. O'Toole, are mine, so no copycats!
Author's Notes: See prologue. *As always, questions and comments are welcome at jhorizon77@yahoo.com
Part Three
"All is the fear and nothing is the love,
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason." - Shakespeare, Macbeth
A chilling breeze blew through the thin space between Slayer and vampires. The moment's silence accented the eerie blackness of the old cemetery as they stood watching one another, the girl still baring her neck to one of her greatest enemies. Still not comprehending what she had meant, Spike's mouth curved in a tiny, almost non-existent smile. "What, Pet?"
Buffy's resolve was beginning to falter at the hard stares she was receiving, so she exposed her neck more in an attempt to convince him of her sincerity. With beads of sweat starting to form on her pale forehead, Buffy said firmly, "Kill me, Spike. Slash my throat, bite me, stab me, shot me - whatever. Just be quick, or I'll do it myself."
Suddenly, Spike threw back his head and let a guttural, amused laugh float into the evening air. Beside him, Drusilla giggled in a way only she could, holding her arms about herself in glee. Standing with her head tilted awkwardly became uncomfortable in a hurry, so Buffy brought it back to its normal position as the couple chuckled at her demand. Without warning, Spike stopped laughing and shoved her away from him to stand on top of Angelus' grave. The grin that had found its way to his face grew wider as he said, "Are you *tripping*? Why the hell would you ask me to do a thing like that?"
Buffy's stance became defensive as she muttered, "You know damn well why I'm here. Why else would you have flown all the way from Sunnydale to visit Angel's grave?"
Broad smile still written on his face, Spike replied, "Just wanted to pay my respects to dear ol' Dad." He then proceeded to lean to one side in order to get a better view of the headstone behind the Slayer. Making a grand show of it, Spike unceremoniously flipped off the elegant stone and added, "...or lack there of."
Drusilla, not exactly delighted with his actions, grimaced and slapped his arm lightly. "Spike, luv, you shouldn't be mean to Daddy. Remember all the things he'd say when you were nasty to him in the factory?"
Scowling, Spike rolled his eyes in annoyance. "For God's sake, Dru, he started it; laying his hands all over your body day in and day out." Appearing to enjoy the memories his words invoked, Drusilla smiled sensuously and twirled around idly. "Angel," she whispered as she halted her rotations to gaze up at the moon.
Jealousy washing over him, Spike said, "Enough already, Ducks. Angel is dead...move on." As Drusilla was about to reply, Buffy mumbled, "Domestic discord much?"
Pulling Drusilla protectively to his side, Spike said harshly, "Leave it alone, Slayer." He continued, leaving his arm about his lover's waist. "Now then, why did we come here? You kicked us out of that wretched Hell hole."
Resting her head on his shoulder, Drusilla said, "Hell*mouth*, luv." Nodding, he said, "Yes, Baby. Thank you."
He redirected his attention to the Slayer. "Back to your question of why we're here...didn't I already respond to that one? You're getting repetitive, Pet. Anyway, the answer is simple...I couldn't think of anything funnier than seeing our little Slayer bitch kill herself in grief after giving her all in one last hoorah with her ol' buddy Spike...Actually, now that I mention it, I can think of something funnier: killing the Annoying one. Ooh, or how 'bout bashing Angelus' back in with my crow bar? *That* was the bloody most fun I've had in-"
"Spike!" Buffy put her hands on her hips as she waited for him to come to his point. Sensing her irritability returning, Spike smiled. "Well, well...quite the temper, today. All right, the point is that my baby here wants to see the Slayer 'slay' herself."
Drusilla nodded reverently in agreement from her place at Spike side as she added, "Yeah...I saw you laying over Angel's grave. There was blood everywhere...on the grass, in the sky, and the moon was happy." Always patient with his girl, Spike said, "Yes, darling, and you'll get to see it; I swear."
As the two began cuddling, Buffy moved silently over to where she had tossed Kendra's lucky stake. That was something she needed a lot of at the moment: luck; the good fortune to slay these two vampires, the couple who had meddled with her life countless times, so she could end this life knowing some kind of peace. Seeing the Slayer pick up her stake brought Spike back into focus as he directed Drusilla to stand a few feet away.
Cocky grin spreading over his face, he said, "Would you look at this? The Slayer's gone and changed her mind, and all that. You will tell Angel 'hello' for me when you see him, won't you?" Outraged by his comments, Buffy charged at him and attempted to land a right clip to his jawbone. Unfortunately, she realized too late that, in her haste, she did not see Spike's own fist flying out to meet her.
The blow to her head was fast and hard, sending her careening backwards a few steps. She was still trying to shake the previous hit off when his foot connected with her head, forcing her to the ground. With an arrogant laugh, Spike strolled over to the fallen Slayer. Bending over, he placed his hands on his knees as he said, "Come on, Ducks, cheer up! Just think: after this is all over, you'll never have to fight again!" Angered at his making light of the deep aching in her heart that had driven her to suicide, Buffy mustered up all the strength she had and kicked her leg up to meet her tormentor's face.
She took that opportunity to leap to her feet, still a little foggy, but in better condition than a few minutes ago. Before Spike could regain his footing, Buffy performed a series of quick punches and kicks to his body. Wounded, he mumbled, "God, but you're cute when you're brassed off." Furious at this remark, she disoriented him with a well placed roundhouse, grabbed him by his trademark leather trench coat, and tossed him into the headstone of one of Angel's relatives.
After witnessing her Spike get beat up and thrown like a rag doll into the cool stone to lay unmoving next to it, Drusilla rushed towards the Slayer in blind fury. This time, Buffy was prepared and pulled Mr. Pointy out of her jacket pocket. Without a moment's hesitation, she rammed the stake full force into the vampire's chest.
Shock crossed Drusilla's face as she let out a wail that resembled Spike's name. He had seen Buffy take the weapon out, but reached her too late. As Drusilla's sobbing began, he delivered a punch to Buffy's mid-section in a fit of rage. "Dru!" he shouted as he ran to his lover who was swiftly falling to the ground. Spike caught her and looked at the bundle in his arms.
Gentle, mad laughter began to seep from the woman's lips as she lay in his loving embrace. As Buffy turned her head weakly over to face them from her position on the grass, she heard Spike join Drusilla's chuckles. The Slayer cursed; she could not remember the last time she had missed a vampire's heart with a stake. Kicking herself for her negligence, she watched Spike remove Mr. Pointy from his companion's chest.
The couple stood up slowly, Drusilla leaning on her lover for support. Just noticing the fallen Slayer again, Spike brought his girlfriend to sit beside her. Before she had chance to react, Buffy felt Spike sit straddled over her hips, knees preventing her from moving her arms and legs. A half amused, half infuriated growl escaped from his throat. "So, Slayer...here we are." Haziness still claiming her mind, Buffy barely managed to reply, "Here we are."
"Yeah. You know, I honestly thought you were smarter than this; attacking Dru and all. Greater people than you have died a slow and painful death for such a crime. Say one thing for you, though: you have a shit load of guts. Is it because of your incessant wish to die that you thought, 'what the hell, I'm out to kill myself, might as well try to bloody kill her, too?'"
He traced a hand almost gently across her cheek and Buffy recoiled immediately in disgust. The cool hands had reminded her of her eternally-damned Angel's familiar caress, and how he had done that the night they made love. He had stroked her cheek softly, professing his love for her until she fell into a deep sleep. This, however, was not her Angel; he was not even close.
Her mind was called promptly back to reality as he continued, "The problem is, baby, I don't take too kindly to people hurting my Dru." Making sure Buffy could not flee his grasp, Spike turned to his weak princess and dragged his finger over her lips. He shivered as she nipped it affectionately, then looked back at the Slayer.
"She's my everything, Luv, and I think it's past time I let you do what you came here to do." Spike began to lift off her when suddenly his hand swung down to strike Buffy's cheek. Smiling, he dropped his weight back onto her and sighed, "But then, that would be doing the nice guy thing to do, giving you what you wanted and all...Never let it be said that I'm a nice guy. I intend to make you pay for all eternity...you wanted to kill yourself to be with Angel, isn't that right? That's why you where all gung-ho to me doing it myself...but wait! Didn't you stop and think that your murder would only be another meaningless check on the *colossal* check list of my soddin' sins?"
Realization sunk in as Spike laughed gently. "Yep. You'll get an afterlife of absolute *bliss* for your tireless efforts here on Earth. Oh, and did I mention it's also an eternity without Angel?"
Both vampires laughed harshly as Buffy struggled to get free. "Fuck you, you-" A look of feigned shock on his face, Spike said, "My, what colorful metaphors, there. Did Angel know you talked like that?" After a pause he continued in a hushed voice, "By the by, saying that word isn't gonna get you into Hell. Believe me, otherwise all of today's action stars would be holding first class tickets. Have you *heard* the language in those movies?" At her glare, he shrugged, "Okay, not my best line ever, but I try."
Spike's face morphed into its vampire visage, yellow fangs reflecting the dim light from the moon above. Brushing strands of blond from her neck, he said, "Well, Summers, it's been great fun. Have a dandy afterlife. Send me a postcard, won't you?"
He descended towards her neck, still pinning her arms and legs, and pierced the skin there. The initial puncture was sharp and rough, the pain burning a course through her body. Before her brain could completely process the pain, it disappeared, and a warmth spread over her. It was nothing like the time the Master had bitten her, but she figured that it had been more out of spite. This felt almost gentle, as though Spike meant for her to go peacefully, despite what she had just done to Drusilla.
Millions of images began to speed through her mind: cheerleading with her friends at Hemery; talking Slayer history with Merrick, making fun of her mother's high school days; joking around with Xander and Willow; and kidding Giles about his British tendencies. Most importantly, though, Angel - fighting with him; talking to him; loving him. Her thoughts still racing and her head swimming, something inside of Buffy clicked. Automatically, she understood that her brain was feeding her all the good memories, showing her all she had to live for. Similarly, Buffy could feel her Slayer instinct kicking in, begging her to fight this, pleading with her to shove her enemy off her body. However, she ignored the calling; she possessed neither the strength nor the will to do so.
The process externally was not as bad as she had expected. The movement of Spike's lips against her neck, pulling at her flesh, was almost soothing; the thundering sound of her heart beat in her ears like a sweet lullaby. The night surrounding her became intensely bright, and soon there was only she on her back and light around her. Voices whispered from all sides telling her to hold on just a few moments more and serenity would finally be hers. Although Buffy had her doubts that the guilt and grief in her heart could ever leave her, it began to lessen before the words were thought. The warmth around her embraced her, welcoming her to a new place, one where she could watch her friends and protect them until it was their time.
Without warning, she was ripped from the tender light, the profound brightness quickly shifting back to the dull scenery of the cemetery. It took a few moments for Buffy to realize that Spike had stopped feeding from her at some point and was cursing to himself. Struggling to make out what he was saying, she strained her ears to hear his words.
"Damn! Shit, I can't do this, Dru-Baby. I've grown bloody attached to the little spit." A tiny smile crossed Buffy's face as she realized she'd be able to see Angel, after all; Spike had decided to leave her to her suicide.
The satisfaction of that recognition was promptly smothered as she saw Spike rolling up his numerous layers of sleeves to reveal a pale wrist. Besides her, she heard Drusilla whisper in childlike wonder, "Oh, goody."
"No...please, no..." Buffy mouthed, barely able to make a sound.
Seeing the fear in her eyes, Spike beamed, "This is it, huh, Slayer? What you've always been most afraid of? Well, then, let's hop to..." Bringing his wrist up to his mouth, he bit and released, swearing at the sting of his own fangs. Offering his blood to the Slayer, Spike said, "All right, come on then..."
Nodding, Drusilla giggled like the raving lunatic she was, saying, "Go on, drink for Daddy. We'll go back to the Hellmouth and have a tea party with Miss Edith and your friends." Buffy tried desperately to move her head to the side as the warm liquid beckoned her.
Growling deep in his throat, Spike said, "Now, damn it; we don't want to lose you..." Without meaning to, Buffy opened her mouth a fraction on accident, just enough to allow a drop of crimson to enter. It played on her tongue, the bittersweet metallic taste claiming her senses, desire soon washed over all rational thought. Helplessly, the proud Slayer was reduced to lapping at the blood which flowed freely from Spike's wrist. He spoke gentle words to her as Drusilla cooed softly to her right. Forgetting her duties, her life, even Angel, Buffy drank, knowing nothing but the pleasure that pulsed inside her. By the time her Slayer instincts once again cried out to her, telling her what she was doing was forbidden, it was far too late to save her mortal soul. She could already feel the demon creeping inside her, and she was scared for her friends' lives when a part of her welcomed it with open arms.
That fear was the last thing she knew before unconsciousness swept over her. Her soul evicted from her body, Buffy Summers, Slayer, was truly dead.
* * *
The next morning
And then there were six; halfway around the world, the occupants of the Sunnydale High School library sat nervously at the wooden table again. Being Sunday, none of the teachers were in the building, making the halls deathly silent. The boarded up windows blocked all sunlight from the room and gave it the uneasy feeling of night and the creatures it brings with it.
A quick glance towards the office could tell them that the Watcher had yet to finish his telephone call. He had been on since the first of the group, Willow and Oz, arrived for the morning's ritual. At the moment, Oz had leaned his girlfriend's wounded head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair to console her. The past few days had obviously taken their toll on the injured hacker, and the stress was not to let up in the near future with Buffy missing in action.
Xander picked up on his best friend's exhaustion easily, having known her so long. The familiar guilt rose again at the thought of lying to Buffy about the curse and beat at his mind. Had he known then the harm it caused everyone now, he might have relayed the message to the Slayer...might have. Taking hold of Cordelia's hand, Xander sighed and looked at his watch, regretting that his enemy could quite possibly be back in their lives in under an hour. Mrs. Summers sat staring at the letter which carried her daughter's final words to her. Fighting back tears, she leaned against the back of her chair and tried not to imagine her life if Buffy never came back.
The click of the telephone in the next room brought everyone's attention out of their thoughts and directed it at Giles. As he walked out into the main area, he ran a hand though his hair, his face showing the anxiety that he was currently being submitted to. Giles surveyed the room to make sure the entire "Slayerette" band was there, and when he was satisfied with the results, he sat down in the chair he had dragged from his office earlier. Taking a deep breath, he began, "That...was the Watcher's Council. Um, I-I have some good news, and some bad news. I-"
Bringing up a questioning hand, Xander asked, "Wait, wait, wait, wait; there's a *council* of you Watchers? What's there to do? I mean, Watcher reads stuff; Slayer kills stuff. Do they, like, talk about the occult over a 'spot of tea'? And who funds them, anyway?"
Shrugging, Willow said, "Many non-profit organizations do fund-raisers. You know, car washing, cookie selling, dog walking...Is there dog walking?"
Giles sighed impatiently. "No, I assure you there is no dog walking. Now, I really should-"
Interrupting once again, Xander quipped, "All those stakes laying around would make for one hell of a good game of fetch. And ooh! Crossbows for the weak Watchers that can't throw worth a-"
Deciding to intervene with the vital information he held, Giles blurted out with unusual directness, "The next Slayer has been called."
As he expected, the room's murmurs were ceased in an instant, and it was stone quiet all around. They practically sat on the edge of their seats in suspense, finally leaving command of the conversation to Giles. "Thank you. F-forgive my uh, bluntness, but I do believe this is of the utmost importance." After a cleansing breath, he began, "As I already stated, the new Slayer was summoned by the Council yesterday afternoon, or last night European time."
Oz, who had been relatively quiet that day, rose a timid hand into the air, hoping the Watcher would not be too mad at his interruption. "Okay, so I'm new to this scene, and I'd kinda like someone to fill me in on this Council of Watchers thing-y. I can't speak for all of us, but I'm pretty messed up, right now."
Nodding in comprehension, Giles scooted his chair closer to join the group assembled around the table. "Actually, that's Watcher's Council, Oz. They're very, um...particular about the name. Stubborn, really."
With a smirk, Xander turned to his girlfriend, "Can't imagine *that*." Giles ignored him and continued, "The Council is a closely knitted network of Watchers, be they former or in waiting. I served on it myself during my tenure as a curator in London. More to the point, their duty is to oversee the actions of the Slayer and her Watcher; to make sure everything is proceeding accordingly. I have, uh, I-I've already had to...discuss Buffy with them more than once. The Council believed for some time that Angel and she were not to be together...Interesting, they sang a different tune when Angelus was running a muck throughout Sunnydale."
"They changed their minds? Why?" Joyce asked for the rest of them. Smiling a smile of pride combined with fatherly love, Giles explained, "Buffy is most certainly one of the best things to happen to the Slayer chain, Mrs. Summers. Creative, stalwart, and resourceful, she made it possible to bend the rules of Slayer/civilian relationships because I knew almost immediately that she'd be able handle looking after them. Her strategies, too, were so natural...she didn't even need the Slayer handbook. I-I never wanted to mention anything to her and have it go to her head. You all know Buffy can get when she's overconfident."
Xander rolled his eyes, "Point, here? We all love Buffy, but I'd like to get Dead Boy back so I can go home. Where's this one headed?"
Sighing, Giles said, "The Council finally realized that Buffy's inner strength, as well as her ultimate happiness, derives from Angel. I'd imagine there's no need to stress how accurate that is." He shook his head remorsefully as he continued, "I-it was my obligation to phone the Council about everything that transpired with Acathla. They, uh, t-they were most...disappointed that Buffy has taken a self-proclaimed 'leave of absence.' The Hellmouth needs her to watch over it. In the meantime, the Council will be sending Kendra's replacement, Star, and her Watcher, Mr. Craig O'Toole. She may be green, but she'll have to do for the time being."
Taking the break in conversation to her advantage, Willow asked, "Giles, what about Spike and Drusilla? Even *Buffy* had difficulties taking care of them one-on-one. Will Star be able to handle both of them?"
Shaking his head, he responded gravely, "No, no, I-I'd imagine not. From what Mrs. Summers has told us, Spike is up and moving around quite freely. He and Drusilla are likely to be at their most dangerous, both being at full strength. However, I see no immediate jeopardy in store for us. There was no evident indication of them at the mansion on Friday morning when Xander and I returned. I-I'm assuming Spike listened to Buffy and left the country for the time being. Therefore, Miss Star shall be all right here. We should endeavor to find Buffy as soon as possible, though, in the event something major d-does happen."
Softly, Willow added, "Or if Spike decides to go back on his word." Just as hushed, Giles said, "Yes."
Furrowing his brow, Xander asked, "Okay, so what's the good news? I mean, the bad news is that Comet or whoever is taking over Buffy's stomping grounds. Where's the sunshine in that?"
Giles gave the boy a sharp glare and replied, "Xander, I cannot foresee Mr. O'Toole appreciating his Slayer being mocked, especially not by someone who isn't officially in the Slayer's circle, so I would...curtail the snide remarks. A-as for the good news, it's that Star shall arrive in a few days. The bad news is the Council requests my presence at their headquarters so that I may aide them in their search for Buffy. My flight is the evening that Star arrives. I-I'm sorry. I don't, uh...I don't *want* to go. It's more of an order."
"But.." Willow whimpered, "What about *our* search?" Giles regarded her sadly. "You all are fully capable of running it. With Angel assisting you-"
Tossing away his previous vow to be more gracious to the vampire whom he had betrayed, Xander sneered, "*Angel*. Why does that freak have to work with *us*. He wants to help Buffy, he should leave her alone."
A curse under his breath came swiftly before Giles replied, "Xander, do you not listen to a word I say? His feeling towards Buffy aside, if in fact this ritual does work, that *man* is going to be broken. So help me, if you try to add insult to injury..."
Agreeing with the Watcher, Oz said, "Yeah, man. Don't pull any shit...for us."
Cordelia reached her arm across his shoulders and rubbed them softly. "Xand, I know how hard this must be for you, but Buffy would want you to be good. *I* want you to be good. I mean, the man is in *Hell* right now. Do you understand how awful that must be? His skin must be absolutely dry and yucky by now. He's gonna have to get moisturizing treatments for months." At their stares, Cordelia asked innocently, "What?"
The Watcher took off his glasses and massaged the pressure point at the bridge of his nose before replacing them on his head. "Um, y-yes, well...I'm sure he'll be most...grievous to learn of his skin condition. Yet, outlandish as it may seem, Cordelia does make an excellent point...if looked at properly. Angel, while he may or may not remember the actual 'Hell' he has been in, he most certainly will recall the four months he spent on the other side. That torment is enough damnation for him, a-and I think it's best that we understand that before we bring him back here. Bear in mind, Angel will want to find Buffy as desperately as we do. Even if you do not ever wish to speak to him again, allow him to help you search for her because he knows her better than most of us here. Also, my leaving, and I wish to emphasize this, is *not* forever. Just as soon as we track our Slayer down, I shall hasten to the airport...Now, let's attempt to put this behind us for a little while. We have a most important ceremony to perform." Finishing his latest monologue, Giles started gathering the candles from his office.
From her seat, Mrs. Summers asked him, "Mr. Giles? What exactly is going to happen, again?"
He emerged from the other room, cross, and candles in hand. "I'll explain once more as we begin to set up. Willow, here is the written translation of the text; please review it and the instructions. Oz, Xander -- move the table over there against the weapons locker. Cordelia, Mrs. Summers -- grab the candles and place them as specified in this illustration."
As they went about their duties, Giles moved behind the counter and retrieved the herbs stashed there. He began mixing them into their proper pots as he said, "This is a ritual from the DuLac manuscript which I obtained from the wreckage of the old church, along with the corresponding cross. Used as intended, it could theoretically raise most any demon from Hell, although the power to do so would be...substantial. I assure you, it'd be well beyond our own capabilities. Luckily, I have high hopes that this will work without that much, due to the fact that he's still alive...w-well, undead, anyway.
"Willow shall sit atop the table, once more, candles surrounding her. The person that had the least connections to Angel, that'd be you, Oz, is required to keep the incense moving in the air, as Cordelia did a few nights ago. She, Mrs. Summers, and I shall hold hands a-around the candle tripod formation by where the table used to be. If the ceremony is done properly, then having the triangle directly over the Hellmouth should supply the energy required to raise Angel."
Quizzically, Xander asked, "Uh, Giles? I thought you said *I* was a part of the triangle thing. Do I want to know what I'm doing?"
Putting his eyes to the floor as he walked back to the center of the room, Giles said simply, "If I told you, you most certainly would not be here...Do I have your word you'll go through with it?" Xander paled slightly, but nodded. "For, um, for Buff. Absolutely."
"Right, then. The portal to Hell, as you all well know, is controlled through the power of blood. It commands the gateway, and is the only way in or out. Examples of this, obviously, are the Master drinking of Buffy and Angelus opening and sealing it with his own. I, um...this ritual does require a small amount of blood shed by someone with strong animosities towards the demon called. Usually, vampires kill that person, but that shall not be necessary. A few drop shall suffice...Xander, are you positive you are up to this? You are the only one here who hates Angel, not Angelus, with that much fervor."
The boy nodded, whispering, "For Buffy...*only* for Buffy," under his breath. Giles smiled gently at him, then grew serious, again. "One more thing that I should warn you all of..." He broke off, looking down at his hands.
Putting aside his upcoming fate, Xander let himself grin and say, "Hey, Giles, if this was a movie, the suspenseful mood music would be filtering into the background...the dramatic pause thing, Giles...I-it doesn't work."
Looking up, Giles went on, "So...sorry. There will be a brief amount of time where Angel will be unconscious. During this period, any wounds inflicted upon him in Hell might still be on him. They'll heal quickly, of course, but i-it could be quite...graphic. Simply a warning."
There was a moment of silence as they reflected on the ceremony ahead if them before Willow asked, "Uh, Giles? Is there a reason why we're doing this during the day, and on a Sunday for that matter? I mean, don't vampires have issues with sunlight and holy days?"
The Watcher nodded. "Y-yes, they, uh, they do. However, I thought it best to take this precaution. Demons do not...appreciate the Christian Sabbath day. They tend to stay as far away from religion, as you can well imagine. Some have been known to sleep through the entire Sunday, night and all, for the sole purpose of not living through it. In fact, there's one that is particularly-" At the group's glazed stares, Giles said, "Yes, well...more to the point, being on the Hellmouth, I figured holding the ritual on a bright and sunny Sunday morning might dissuade the evil spirits from rising with Angel."
Looking around the library, Giles inspected the set up. "Um, Cordelia...h-how were you expecting Angel to lie between those candles?"
She glanced at the triangle of candles and sighed, "Well, you didn't *tell* me to put them that far apart. *Sorry*."
Starting to inform her that the information was shown on the paper he had given to her, he stopped, realizing that fighting with her was useless. Instead, he chose to address the entire group, "Everyone, I think we should begin; I'm not sure how long it will take for Angel to wake up, and I'd like him to patrol until Star arrives." Handing the incense to Oz, he asked, "Shall we, then?"
Oz laid his herbs on the ground for a few minutes as he helped Willow into a cross-legged position on the table. "Good luck, baby, and be careful," he whispered in her ear. After planting a gentle kiss on her cheek, he walked over to the herbs and wrinkled his nose slightly. "Oh, man, those things smell nasty...Do I *have* to light them?"
Cordelia folded her arms across herself and said, "See? I try to tell you people these things...the herbs are yucky. Vampires suck. No one listens." Smirking, Xander said, "I listen, Cordy." She rolled her eyes in usual fashion. "Joyous day."
Meanwhile, Giles moved over to Oz and lit the contents of the pot, ignoring the other teens' babbling. "Yes, I'm afraid the herbs must be smoldering...Xander, wait there, and the rest of you, over here." Forming a triangle inside the candles, Cordelia, Mrs. Summers, and Giles joined hands, the latter saying, "Remember, both of you, to call Angel with your mind the moment the portal opens. It is imperative since it will close shortly after it appears. Oz, walk in the patterns around our triangle. Xander, walk into the center of us, but don't do anything until I tell you to...Now, if everything is in order...Willow?"
She took in an apprehensive breath and began to recite the ritual while holding the DuLac cross properly. "Elegor, we name thee. Lord of all that is dark, we offer thee our meager offering. Thou who loves all things evil, this man does not, and he sheds his blood to aide us in our quest."
With an audible gulp, Xander trembled as he took the knife he held to his left hand wrist and made a quick slice. He let crimson drops fall onto the floor until Giles told him to leave the triangle and bandage the wound. Willow continued the ceremony saying, "Elegor, bringer of chaos, reach your blessed hand into your haven below the mortal world. We call thee; grasp Angelus and free him of his torments..." She continued reciting the words as Oz spread the incense around his girlfriend.
Almost gagging, he started in the direction of the triangle as he woozily mumbled, "Guys...this is *not* good. Can we speed things, ya know...up? I'm about to revisit my Egg McMuffin."
"Elegor, we beg thee, assist us! Raise your child! Bring him forth..." The ground moaned beneath their feet and was steadily escalating into an earthshaking tremor. Before their eyes, the Hellmouth opened slightly, expanding the triangle in the center of the room. The three holding hands had to strain to keep the formation from breaking as the floor continued to tremble. Brilliant lights spewed forth from the rift, and they made eerie patterns on the surrounding walls. Ever so slowly, a deep red patch of pulsing light formed just over the drops of blood on the floor next to the opening of the Hellmouth. As it touched the liquid, the blot of scarlet transformed itself into a yellow-orange swirling cloud.
"Now!" Giles whispered harshly, referring to his earlier commands. Calling Angel with their minds, the three in the triangle focused their energy until a figure began to emerge from the portal. The Watcher told them quietly to break the formation and stand back. As they cleared the candles, the features of the body in the vortex became clearer, and Giles realized it was Angel, although he was barely recognizable underneath the carnage.
Oz, forgetting about the herbs which still hung loosely in his hand, whispered, "Now, *that's* the funky shit."
Similarly, Mrs. Summers stared at the opening to Hell, astonished. "My daughter faced that everyday?"
The portal finally spit Angel out, and it tossed him haphazardly onto the floor with a thud. Not able to remove her eyes from the body of her best friend's lover, Willow said, "No, Mrs. Summers, *that* is what she faced."
A sickly green hue discoloring her usually flawless features, Cordelia covered her mouth at the sight before them. "Oh my God. That's-...oh my *God*." The rest of the group appeared to agree as they stared at Angel's body...or what was left of it. His skin, where visible, was completely charred. Deep red blood oozed up from the dried out cracks in the flesh. Once full lips were thin and pressed tightly, and his eyes had swollen shut. Angel's clothing hung loosely from his body, dangling in shreds at the back of the shirt.
Nodding slightly, Giles said, "Good show, everyone. It seems as though everything went, uh, accordingly."
Xander's eyebrows shot up. "Accordingly? Dead Boy's char-broiled. I'd say that borders on 'big problem.' We can't just go up to Buffy and say, 'Hey, here's your boyfriend. A little burnt, but, he'll have really cool scars.'...What are we supposed to do, now?"
Giles sighed. "We wait."
* * *
Soft, slow-dancing music filled his ears as he carefully picked himself up from the ground. Brushing tiny pellets of gravel from his hands, Angel took a cautious look at his surroundings. He found it to be demon-free for the moment, so he started towards the building before him. Pulling the heavy door open, he stepped inside the Bronze, curious as to why he was here of all places. Only moments ago, he had been tied to the cross, the demons submitting him to horrible, agonizing tortures all about *her*.
Angel now knew why he was here. Undoubtedly, it had to do with his beautiful Slayer. Had the demons of the underworld actually told him the truth? Was she already one of them, and this was all a mind game created by the hooded devils? Scanning the room, he detected no signs of anyone familiar, including any of the Slayerettes. A strange girl, however, was staring blankly at him. After a few more moments of that awful gaze, Angel's skin crawled with uneasiness. Just as he was about to tell her off, she walked to him and said in hushed tones, "Choose, Angel."
Completely confused by her message, as well as how he had managed to leave Hell, Angel moved dazily over by the stage. More people began to stare at him, they too holding sincere sympathy in their eyes. Practically growling with hostility, he snapped, "What?" at them, and they went about their business, save for one. A boy about Xander's age said, "You have to choose now, or a decision will be made for you."
"What the hell is the matter with you? Agh, you know what? Just forget it. I'm getting out here." The teenager tried to stop him, but Angel would have none of it. He had originally come to the club a little over a year ago as a place where he knew he could contact Buffy to give her important information. Soon, he would only go there to be with her; it was not on his list of favorite spots in the world. 'Of course, anything beats Hell,' he thought with a smirk.
Almost to the door now, Angel heard someone shout, "Angel! Please, wait...I-I need to talk to you."
Shocked, Angel turned slowly around to face the one person in the world that had ever truly loved him, regardless of what he was inside. "My God, Buffy...it's you." About twenty feet away from him stood the petite Slayer, uncharacteristically panicked. A rare emotion emitted from the girl, it twisted her delicate features into something heartbreakingly pathetic, and it killed Angel to know that it was panic about him. He moved one step away from the door to appease her, then took a clearer look at her.
Her hair was pinned back as it had been when he first met her in the alley, loose bangs framing her face. The gown she wore was a sapphire dress that Angel thought looked like velvet. Formfitting at the bodice, it flared dramatically at the waist and trailed to the floor. Tiny spaghetti straps held it in place, the plunging neckline accentuating her graceful neck. Around it hung the cross he had given to her when she moved down state from Los Angeles.
Shifting a little uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze, Buffy brushed back a few whisps of blond hair from her face with an elegant hand, one that still held the Claddagh ring. Angel found his voice again and whispered, "Oh my God, Buff, I'm so sorry." He placed a tentative foot on the ground, watching her reaction. A loving smile spreading across her radiant face, she opened her arms up to him.
He hurried towards her and stopped just a few inches shy of being in her embrace. With a pained expression he asked, "If you'll still have me?"
Buffy threw her body against him and held him as though he were about to float away. "Angel, I swear to you, I-I didn't want to hurt you. I...I never wanted you be in pain..."
Cutting off her unneeded apology, Angel brought her head up to meet his lips. They fell into an ease that neither had been able to experience in months. Forgetting how sweet her lips were, Angel drank her in, her taste, her smile, the feel of her cheek against his hand. The music around them yanked him out of the daze he had fallen under, and he pulled away slowly. "Buffy, what's going on here? How did I get outside the Bronze?"
A flash of remorse shone briefly through Buffy's eyes at his question, and she backed out of his arms. "What's going on, Angel? It's simple. You have a choice; I'm sure you've heard that one today, right?" At his sarcastic nod, she continued, "Well, you do have one. You've been given the choice you should have had two centuries ago. As to how you got here...that's an entirely different story."
Angel cracked a smile. "I have eternity, Buffy." Not returning the smirk, the Slayer dead panned, "So do I."
"God, it really happened, didn't it? You really are...Spike really did...I'll kill him. I'll-I'll rip his heart out and stake it right in front of his eyes."
That obtained a smile from her as she laughed, "Angel, you really aren't in a position to do anything right now." With a wave of her hand, they stood in a sunny pasture, green grass cushioning their feet. He put aside his confusion as he whispered, "You said you didn't look good in direct light; you look like a goddess."
Blushing at his words, she said, "I was trying to be nice." She saw him open his mouth to speak , but she held up a hand to stop him. " I, um...I know you must have a lot of questions. I would, too, if I were in your position. But, just let me tell you what I can, then you can ask away. Come on, we can sit over by that pond." Buffy strolled over to the edge of the water and sat gently on the green, her skirt spread eloquently around her. Whipping off her high heels, she put her feet in the cool water.
She took his hand, needing the physical contact it gave her, then began with a sigh. "Angel, I'm sorry. I should have gotten to all this right away, but I got caught up in your embrace...It's been so long...I've been informed you saw everything leading up to my death, huh?" He shook his head. "You're not dead; they can bring you back." Not responding to him, she continued, "This is the real thing, Angel. I've had nightmares about being brought over ever since my dad made me watch 'Salem's Lot' one Halloween...I think I was, like, *eight*. I remembering nailing my window shut and carrying this huge cross everywhere I went. My mom was really mad at Dad." After she finished giggling, Buffy continued more seriously, "Honestly, I never imagined it would end like that. You know, being bested by Spike.
"Anyway, we're discussing you, here, so maybe I should start doing that. Okay, from what I've heard, I guess Giles was able to find a curse or ritual in the DuLac manuscript that can raise a demon from Hell. As you can see, it worked...what he didn't tell the gang is that you don't automatically return; you get a choice. Like I said, this is something you never got from Darla. It's a chance to choose: life or death. A) You could go back to Sunnydale, not retaining any of your time in Hell or this conversation. It also means not remembering that I was brought over by Spike. You would have to learn that knowledge all over again. Then...there's other option. B) You could choose death, Angel. As Angelus, you committed a lot of sins, but you were not responsible for them. It was the demon, not you. Which means...you would move on to Heaven. You would be with me."
Angel squeezed her hand tightly, "I-...I'm staying here with you." At her protests, he said, "Buffy, I've already lived several lifetimes, which are several more than I care remember. All that's waiting for me on Earth is the guilt of the four months that Angelus had his free for all, as well as the knowledge that you're gone. I don't want that." Running his fingers over her Claddagh ring, he whispered, "You can't honestly tell me you want me to go back. This is our one chance to be together."
Nodding, she added, "A chance we can't afford to take."
Bewildered, Angel said, "You're kidding. Buffy, I can't go back; they'll all hate me."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "They're not going to hate you, Angel. Everyone respects that I chose to love you, and they won't do anything to go against my wishes...except Xander. He's...he can be a little...uneducated at times...Look, you and I both know that Spike and Dru are going to take me back to California. The new Slayer won't be able to handle me. I'm not being full of it; I'm serious. They need you to protect them."
Angel let a tear fall. "Buffy, I'll miss you if I-...You think I can be without you? I'd-I'd go mad."
"As I almost did without you...Angel, listen to me. I'm begging you to return to watch over them. I was their protector when you turned; they looked to me for guidance. They saw me being strong, and so they were able to be, as well. Now, it's your turn."
He tried to object, but Buffy said, "Hey!...Listen, you don't have much time left here; you have to decide. All I can say is that there is a way to remember all of this later..." She showed him the band on her ring finger. "My Claddagh ring, the one you gave me...it will be the 'window' to all this...you'll touch it and remember all of it. You'll know that I'm here, waiting for you. I'll try to find a way to get it to you so you will recall what I'm about to say...Go back; help them; protect them; be the Slayer substitute. Just like me, you can try to bring me back while you're hunting the demon with my face. If you can, great. I'll have you there with me, to help me with the guilt of my actions. If you can't...kill Spike and Dru, and then have Xander stake you. He'd be glad to as you probably know. We'll be together, Ang; just give it a little time."
Leaning over, Angel pulled her close. Kissing a path to her ear, he nuzzled it as he whispered, "I'll go back...for you." Their lips met, and a vortex appeared before them. Through it, they could see the library, the Slayerettes huddled around Angel's still body. Angel stood up and dropped Buffy's hand. He turned right before he stepped in and promised her, "I'll see you in eternity, one way or the other. Love you, babe."
As he disappeared, Buffy sobbed a little and whispered, "Good luck, love."
* * *
Meanwhile, the remainder of the group huddled around Angel's swiftly healing body. The room was silent; being without Slayer, they had no idea what they might do if the ritual Willow had performed in the hospital had not worked. All any of them could do was watch in amazement as the vampire's wounds mended themselves at an astonishing rate. His face had almost returned to its normal, creamy white complexion, his features now easily recognizable. As the charred areas of his clothing began to smooth into normal-looking fabric, Oz asked, "Okay, so why is it doing that?"
"What is doing...what?" Giles asked, not comprehending the question. The boy pointed to where Angel's shirt was restitching itself and said, "*That* doing *that*."
Staring at the material, Giles shrugged. "Well, I-I don't, uh...I'm not sure. It looks as though my assumption that his wounds would still be present was quite a-accurate. Angel is, uh, r-returning to the way he was before Acathla swallowed him. Which, of course, would explain why there's a tear in the abdomen that's not restitching; it's most likely the place where Buffy, uh...s-stabbed him."
Xander seemed to enjoy this knowledge immensely and mimed ramming a sword through his stomach. Imitating Angel's lower voice, he said, "Ugh -- Buffy, you stabbed me. I hate you; I hate you; I hate-" Off the others' glares, he reverted back into his higher pitched tones and said, "What? God, lighten up, people. We all know that Dead Boy would never give up his *undying* love for our favorite Slayer...Hey, we don't even know that this ritual worked in the first place. We might have brought Ms. Calendar's killer back from the grave...well, we did that *anyway*, but you know what-"
Livid at the teen's last remarks, Giles yelled, "Xander, shut your bloody mouth this instant! I have had enough of your slanderous jibes towards that man to last a lifetime!"
Mocking astonishment, Xander raised his eyebrows and said, "Giles, the b-word, I'm impressed." The Watcher scowled, rage shinning in his eyes as he and Xander began shouting at the same time.
As they fought, Cordelia tried to calm her boyfriend, while Oz held Willow's hand to soothe her. Apparently, the rising tide of the feuding males' emotions coupled with the exhaustion of the most recent ceremony was tiring her out. However, the instant that she heard Angel's muffled, "Xander, shut up..." her mind was snapped out of the cloud it had been in. Willow had to shout, "Guys!" to get their attention, then added, "He's awake."
They all quickly spun around to face the vampire who was carefully attempting to push himself into a sitting position. As he did, his thoughts immediately flew to his girlfriend. A flash of an undefinable piece of knowledge he should know flashed through his mind, but disappeared before it could be processed. Finding his voice, Angel inquired, "Buffy?" When he was et by silence, he forced his eyes open to scan the room.
Angel's gaze fell upon each Slayerette in turn. The first couple he saw was Oz and Willow. Both seemed genuinely worried about something, but he could not tell what it was. Oddly, she was sitting in a wheelchair; he did not remember anything happening to place her in such a state. Next was the Watcher and Mrs. Summers. Their eyes held something that almost resembled bitterness, but it disappeared, or at least faded, promptly after their gazes met. Xander and Cordelia -- while the girl expressed sympathy and compassion on her face, he stood scowling at the vampire as usual. However, there was something else there...grief? Guilt, maybe? He would have to ask about that one.
Realizing his beloved was no where in sight, Angel panicked and said in a stronger voice, "Where's Buffy?"
Giles side-stepped his question and changed the subject with, "What's the last thing you can remember, Angel?"
Scrunching his face in deep thought, Angel finally closed his eyes in pain saying, "The mansion. The last thing I remember is the mansion. She had every right t-to-...I deserved it...Where is she?"
The Watcher acknowledged his companions, and they backed away from the vampire, confident that the ceremony Willow performed a few days ago had, in fact, been successful; this was their Angel. Trying his utmost to be gentle to the creature before him, Giles whispered, "She's gone, Angel. She left Sunnydale of her own accord. Needless to say, it was without our knowing. I'm so sorry."
Jumping painfully to his feet, Angel swaggered a bit before regaining his balance. He grasped his head as it throbbed and said, "It must have that last night. I did this to her. God, what if she's out there dying? I-I should have just stayed away from her, ignored my feelings towards her."
Xander let out biting laugh and said, "*Now* Dead Boy sees it." Raising his voice at him, Giles commanded, "Go get Angel a chair, Mr. Harris. I don't want to hear another peep out of you...Oz, why don't you help him move the table back so we can all discuss our course of action.
"Now then," Giles addressed Angel, "are you able to tell us what occurred in the mansion a few nights back, or is it too...painful?" Xander haphazardly slid a chair by Angel as Oz pushed the heavy table into place.
Not even bothering to bestow his familiar glare upon him, Angel merely sat down and stared at the Claddagh ring adorning his right hand. "Giles...these past few *months* are too painful to talk about. I-I just-...I wish things had turned out differently. If I had never allowed her to fall for me..."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Angel, now, you *know* we think you're a great guy, right? So, don't take this personally when I say that you're starting to repeat yourself, here, and it is *really* annoying. I had to *chant* there, okay? And I don't appreciate having gone through that only to hear you play 'what if.'"
Before he could reply, Giles commented, "As originally Cordelia-like that statement was, she does exhibit a minute point, Angel. Every second that ticks by, Buffy is running farther and farther away from us. We-we *need* to find her, and we *need* to hear exactly what happened Thursday night."
Smiling, Willow spoke up, "Yeah, and the sooner you tell us, the sooner you can help us do the searching thing, and you can make with the smoo-" She broke off suddenly as she remembered her best friend's mother was sitting in the same room, and the older woman's mouth had dropped open a tiny bit. Stammering, she attempted to cover with, "W-with, uh, the, uh, you know...make with the...smoothies. Make with the smoothies. 'Cause, um..."
Helping his girlfriend out, Oz cut in, "Yeah, yeah. Buffy makes the best smoothies...they have those fruits, a-and the milk. Oh, and she even puts in yogurt, a-and that's why they'd be making with the smoothies."
Mrs. Summers shook her head. "You both are sweet for doing that, but I'm well aware that Buffy loves Angel as much as he loves her."
This caught the vampire's attention, and he met her eyes with shock. However, before he was able to reply, Giles cut in, "Angel, please, we need to stay on task, at the moment. There shall be plenty of time for reconciliation later on. Our first responsibility is to Buffy and locating her before she kills-...does something stupid." At the Watcher's correction, Angel realized the urgency in the situation, and so he took a calming breath, as best a vampire is able, and began.
"Buffy...came to the mansion with every intent to destroy me; she should have. Angelus, the demon, would have done the same to her if given the opportunity. Anyway, we had an...intense sword fight. At this point, I had removed Acathla's sword and was defeating her. She almost lost; I had her cornered, but she used her last reserves to come back. Two seconds later, Giles; if the curse had worked two seconds later she would have killed Angelus. But it didn't, and she had to kill me. I remember the look in her eyes when she realized it was me, not the demon. I think it destroyed her, knowing I had no recollection of losing my soul. We kissed, I held her; nothing we hadn't done before, but...there was an urgency that had never existed in our relationship, but I didn't know where it was from. Now I do...she had just found me, only to lose me again..."
Breaking off to collect his thoughts and regain his composure, Angel finally asked, "So, she ran away? God, what have I done to her?"
As Giles began to fill Angel in on what had happened since their Slayer left, Willow looked at Xander and practically stared a hole through him. He, in turn, was glaring at the emotionally wounded vampire, most likely brimming with jealousy and hatred. Squeezing Oz's hand more firmly, Willow let out a shuttering breath, a result of the pent-up rage she felt pounding inside her. Sensing her blood pressure was rising to a point that was unhealthy for her head injury, Oz placed his free hand on her arm and began stroking it. She accepted for a second before leaning over in her wheelchair and laying her head on his shoulder.
Noticing this, Angel, now with pink-tinged tears welling in his eyes, asked shakily, "Willow, are you all right?"
Willow lifted her head up and looked at him. "Yeah, I guess. I'm just-...I don't know. I, um...I'm sorting some things out in my head, right now...I'm fine."
Accepting this answer, Angel turned to Giles, "Was she in pain, Giles, back when I was Angelus? She seemed to be over it from my point of view, but..."
Answering for Giles, Xander muttered, "She *never* got over it. Buffy loved you till the end." Cordelia looked at him and spoke softly, "Now look who's acting like she's dead."
Xander sighed, and the Watcher saw a flash guilt in the boy's eyes before he stood up from the group. "Well, as much as I'd *love* to stick around and chat with Dead Boy about his adventures in Hell, I have better things to do with my Sunday morning. If you'll excuse me, G-Man, Mrs. Summers, Wils, Oz, Cordy...*Angel*...I must go seek some privacy and tend to my dangling particles."
"Alexander, number one, I have requested that you not use that simply dreadful nickname in my presence. Number two, when discussing matters such as your dangling...such and such, I ask that you use a bit more discretion."
A deep red flooded Xander's cheeks when what Giles was implying finally dawned on him. "Oh my God, Giles, that is *not* what I meant. If I want to talk about little Xander, I'd...him little Xander. Here I thought you were an English guy. I was going to my locker to get my English book."
Not able to keep the grin from spreading across his face, Angel laughed for the first time in a while at the boy's expense. "Uh, Xander, that would be 'dangling *particlpiles*.'"
The group chuckled at his mistake, and Giles', until Xander shouted, "Well, at least I don't go around killing my lover's teachers!" Immediately, the smile left Angel's face, and he began whispering apologies, while at the same time, the Watcher yelled at the teenager in fury.
Neither was able to finish, however, because Willow bolted to her feet. She had heard more than enough of Xander's comments for one day. Pushing aside the throbbing in her head that threatened to floor her, she bellowed, "Fuck you; at least *he* doesn't go around intentionally betraying his best friends!"
Xander spun around to face her, fear written in his eyes. He attempted to explain, but she cut him off, voice still raised. "I trusted you, Xander! She trusted you. Buffy wouldn't have left if you hadn't..." The pain finally won out, and Oz assisted her back into her wheelchair. Through the aching in her head, she glared at him, making him shift his eyes away.
When he looked back at the group, Giles was breathing heavily in anger, and Angel was wiping at his eyes. Oz and Mrs. Summers were tending to Willow, appearing to be as upset as she inside. Similarly, Cordelia sat with her arms folded across her chest, awaiting an explanation. Figuring he had better get things out in the open, he whispered to the entire room, and yet to no one at all, "I didn't tell her." Making eye contact with the distraught vampire, he continued to speak softly, "I knew about the curse, and I didn't tell her. I didn't tell her, Willow, Angel...I didn't tell her."
A tiny drop of water formed at the corner of the teen's eye before it trickled down his cheek. They began to fall faster, then, and soon Xander was sobbing openly in front of his friends in an display of pure agony.
Harshness laced in his clipped British accent, Giles started to speak in a hushed tone, but it escalated into a raised voice as he said, "Oh, no you don't, Xander. You of all people have no right to cry. Look around you; do you see the damage you have caused, here? You had the power to prevent all this. Can you comprehend that?"
As Xander began to cry so harshly that his shoulders shook painfully and he choked on his sobs, something finally dawned on Angel. What Giles had mentioned was, in fact, true. His beloved would be at his side, or at the least in Sunnydale, had Xander put aside his jealousy for one moment in time. The boy had finally plucked the final straw from the basket of last chances Angel had offered him.
Angel rose sharply to his feet, feeling the familiar change wash over him. To his left, he heard Joyce gasp at his transformation into his demon visage, but it did not deter him. With a low rumble in his chest, he growled, "Get out of my sight. You've gone too far."
Alarmed at the vampire's tone of voice, Xander cried out, "Angel, man, listen I...what about the rest of you? You can't *all* think that-"
"Xander, I have known you all my life, but I-I never knew how petty you could be...That you could honestly not tell Buffy something I explicitly told you to-...Get out. He's right."
More tears of anguish poured from his red eyes as he heard Willow's words. The final nail, however was Giles' simple statement, "Out, now. You are not welcome in my library until further notice. Is that understood?"
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Xander gathered his belongings from his fuming girlfriend's side, and then fled the room in a hurry. When he was gone, Willow began to sob on Oz's shoulder, as Angel, too, resumed his tears. He whispered the Slayer's name incoherently under his breath as he put his face in his hands. Cordelia and Mrs. Summers sat deep in thought, each having lost someone dear to them because of the teenager: Joyce - her daughter, and Cordelia - Xander, her faith in Xander. Looking at the broken group, Oz asked, "Were we too hard on him?"
Giles regarded his friends as Oz had, but reached the same conclusion that he had before. "No, no we weren't. Buffy is out there on her own, and Heaven only knows what she'll do."
Gasping, Angel snapped his head up, before a puzzled look crossed his face. At the Watcher's inquiry about his actions, the vampire simply shook his head. "I don't know; I-I'm not sure. When you said you didn't know what Buffy would do, it was as though I had a flash of...something...I can't describe it. For an instant, I knew what had happened. Then it was gone."
Willow looked at him sadly and added, "Like her."
* * *
"The itsy-bitzy spider climbed up the water spout..." Drusilla sang as she stared intently at the dull, gray walls of the mausoleum which provided shelter for Spike and his two ladies during the sunlight hours. Buffy, still completely unconscious, was laying on her back in the corner of the small room, Spike's coat underneath her, Drusilla's draped across her from the waist down. In the opposite corner, a cemetery grounds keeper sat bound and gagged, awaiting the former Slayer's rise from death to act as her first meal.
Glancing down at his watch, Spike noted thankfully and mercifully that the sun would set soon. He was not sure how much longer he would be able to endure his dark goddess's game...the same she had been playing for the past three hours. "Down came the rain an' washed the spider out..." He moaned and tumbled from his crossed-legged position on the floor to a more fetal one, his hands covering his ears from her voice.
Drusilla, having woken early and finding herself submerged in boredom, had grown tired of Spike's attention after a while, so she had taken a stroll around their hideout. During a closer inspection of the concrete barriers, Drusilla had discovered an arachnid approximately the size of a quarter. Ever since, she had sung 'The Itzy-Bitzy Spider' while tormenting the wretched creature. As she sang the first verse, she would allow it to crawl up the wall, but would then drag it down with her fingers. As she got to the line about the sun, Drusilla would spin the spider around, dizzying it, and would return it to the wall to drunkenly scale it.
Knowing better from experience to attempt to dissuade Drusilla from anything she deemed amusing, Spike had been subjected to her mindless sing-song for hours, now. He sighed audibly before deciding he had to put a stop to her behavior before he, himself, went mad. "God, Dru, give a rest, will ya, baby? I'm not sure who to feel more sorry for: me or that poor mate, there," he said, indicating the spider with the last sentence.
"Well, all right, I care more about me, but luv, can't you find another game?"
Wickedly, she whispered, "Do you love me?" Sitting back up from the hard floor, Spike grinned. "Of course, Pet. You know that."
Picking up the spider in between her thumb and forefinger, she asked, "Why don't we find out? He loves me..." She plucked a leg from the squirming spider.
Removing another, she said sadly, "He loves me not..." She continued in this fashion until the last one became a negative. As the words left her mouth, Spike crawled over to her on all fours and pulled her close. Kissing her with all the passion he was able to call forth in a dank mausoleum, he communicated his love to her as best he could. "He loves me," came her sing song voice again, and he was about to respond when they heard a weak moan from behind them.
Spike picked himself up and walked quietly to the prone form of his young childe. He motioned to his lover to drag the prisoner over to them as he knelt beside Buffy. Blinking a few times to become familiar with her eyesight, Buffy finally opened her eyes all the way and said, "Nice lipstick, Spike."
Confused for only a brief moment, Spike recalled the kiss he had shared with Drusilla a few moments ago, and unconsciously wiped his hand across his lips. "How are you, then, Slayer?"
Glaring a hole through him with newly golden, piercing eyes, she spoke through her fangs, "Do *not* call me Slayer, *William*."
A man suddenly appeared at her side, and she immediately sank her fangs into his neck, the bloodlust overpowering her senses. As Buffy drank, Drusilla moaned a muffled shriek of terror before collapsing in heap on the ground. Spike moved swiftly over to her, forgetting all about the fledgling for the moment. Cradling her head in his lap, Spike spoke sternly, "Come on, Dru, don't do this, come back, now. Wake up and talk to Daddy."
Hearing Spike's words faintly in the background as she fed, Buffy pulled away from the man and flung his lifeless body to the floor. She dried the stray drops of blood off her lips with the dark sleeve of her shirt and got to her feet. Vampirism was not what she had expected. The colors and sensations that were attacking her were almost overwhelming, but not unpleasant.
Forcing herself to focus on the present, Buffy kicked the carcass as she strode over to the couple and knelt beside them. "Is she okay, Spike?"
He started to reply, but was silenced as Drusilla stirred and opened her eyes. "Sweetheart, what have you seen? What did your vision tell you?"
"The wind called to me, and I was knocked from my feet. Voices, so many sounds and languages, they told me where the wind was born. Miss Edith created it; she told what has happened on the Hellmouth. I love her, Spike. She always knows where I am, she always knows...Spike? Do you think the birds still sing during the day, when the sun is out?"
Trying his best not to lose patience with the insane bundle in his arms, Spike said, "The birds? The birds, well, I'm sure they do, baby, but I need to know what the voices told you...What's happened in Sunnyhell?"
Smiling now, Drusilla said, "Angel -- he has risen from the fire, but they have claimed him. He doesn't want us to be a part of his family anymore...The wind whispers that he still loves our daughter; he wishes her at his side."
Buffy smirked and let out a tiny laugh. "So, the Watcher finally did something useful...Angel's back, huh? I say we go back to Sunnydale. It'll be awhile before they catch on that I was brought over. We could have some real fun."
With a shake of his head, Spike replied. "No. As is N-O, absolutely, bloody not. The last face I ever want to see is his. That bluke irks me...Besides, I'm not going back to that miserable town."
"Chicken," Buffy challenged, knowing full well the effect it would have on her sire. As planned, Spike narrowed his eyes and said, "Do *not* call me any form of poultry, Pet, or you'll be introduced to the wrong end of a stake. We are not leaving Ireland. There's plenty we can do here without causing too much attention to ourselves."
With pleading eyes, Drusilla whispered, "Please, Spike, for your princess?"
Her voice had taken the tone it had when she was weaker, and the male vampire fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Getting up from the floor to collect their coats, he relented, "All right, fine, we'll go back to that damned town. I guess revenge against Angel has many possibilities..."
Buffy glared at him, a scowl written on her face, and she mumbled under her breath as Drusilla said, "Maybe we can fly back with another nice doggy."
As Spike regarded the former Slayer, glaring at him in anger for daring to threaten Angel, and Drusilla, waltzing around the mausoleum barking like a dog, he whispered, "Bloody hell."
* * *
The afternoon sun remained brilliant in the sky on the other side of the world, its healing rays cleansing the darkness that resided there at night. Birds chirped a pleasant melody and flew from tree to tree without a care. Willow watched them from a red oak bench in Sunnydale's large park, a popular vampire feeding ground during the midnight hours. However, there was still a little time be fore the light would fade into dusk, and so she felt quite safe sitting where she was.
Glancing around, Willow scanned the grassy area for the hundredth time, searching for any sign of people whom she might know. Soon after Xander's banishment from the library, the group had broken up; only Angel was bound there until sundown. Oz had walked her home, then left for his own house to get some shut-eye. Giles had departed with Mrs. Summers to some undisclosed location, and Cordelia had practically stomped out of the room, her anger at Xander written cleanly on her face. Once at her house, Willow had grown tired of sitting around watching the dull Sunday afternoon television shows that seemed to run endlessly. She abandoned her wheelchair, not to mention the rules her doctor had placed on her to take it easy, and walked ever so slowly to the park.
Finally convinced that no one was nearby, Willow closed her eyes and felt the sun beating its warmth onto the earth. A dog's loud bark shook her out of her calm in a hurry. Pushing a strand of strawberry hair from her eyes, she opened them to see her childhood friend. He stood against a large tree, skipping stones into a crystal clear pond. The sun's rays reflected off the surface of the water, illuminating his features that had twisted themselves into fierce pain. With a great effort, Willow lifted herself up from the bench and crossed the space between them as fast as she could without causing the throbbing in her head to intensify.
"I remember when we used to come here. It was our meeting place; we'd skip stones for hours. In fact, you taught me how...Are you all right, Xander?"
Genuinely shocked that the girl had expressed so much compassion for him in her voice, Xander replied, "No, Buffy left town because of me, and all my friends have turned their backs on me...No, I'm not all right. I'm in a place very far from there." Just noticing her standing position, Xander asked, "Uh, Will, aren't you supposed to be in a wheelchair? You know, doing the roll around thing?"
Shrugging slightly, she said, "Well, the doctors told me I'm gonna be just fine, so I figured walking around for a while wouldn't kill me. I-I just needed to think, clear my head. I'd being willing to bet my zip drive that's why you're here, too."
Xander nodded. "God, I don't know, anymore. I'm not sure why I've said all the things I have lately. It's just like a couple wires have crossed in my brain and they're really screwing up my already dwindling common sense." He sighed softly, then asked the question he had feared. "Willow, are you still mad? The whole anger thing...has that blown over?"
"If I were to tell you right now that I was livid with you, I would be lying. Because, honestly, I knew yesterday afternoon; I figured it out on my own. The crying, a-and the *fury* erupted then, and now it's faded. I'm sorry for my outburst in the library. You were way out of bounds, there, but I should have been an adult. Emotions were just running too high, and it was my best friend's love that was on the scaffold, so...I flipped."
A moment of silence passed between them before a grin spread across Xander's face. "You mean...you're cool? *We're* cool? We're filled with the cool vibe? What happened is forgiven; it doesn't effect our relationship?"
Willow glanced down at the grass below her and held her gaze there for a few seconds. How could she possibly say what needed to be said? How could he understand what she felt in the very core of her heart and soul? Bringing her eyes back to meet the teen's, Willow whispered, "No, it effects it a lot."
Dumbfounded, Xander began to babble nonsense words until she held up a hand to stop him. "Don't-don't make this any harder than it had to be, Xander." Taking him by the hand, she carefully lead him back to the bench that she had recently vacated. Willow sat down next to him and faced him, his hand still grasped delicately in hers. Staring at them intently, she pondered the end of the union those two hands represented. Painfully, Willow began, her composure masking the betrayal she still felt pounding in her veins.
"I told you I wasn't mad...I never said I wasn't hurt by it. What you did was let down everyone that cared about you, save for your parents, I guess. Y-you went against the one thing I told you to do, and you allowed Buffy to think that her only choice was to kill him. Because of your sick obsession with her, she had to send Angel to Hell. You saw what it did to him; what do think it might have done to Buffy? We don't know where she is, right now. We don't even know where to begin looking. Just once I wish you had displayed the maturity to-to do what was for the greater good. You have disappointed me, Xander. You broke the faith I've had in you since I was old enough to call you 'friend.' All my life I believed in you, and you betray me in a heartbeat. You destroyed her Friday morning, and now, two days later, you attempt to destroy her lover. I-I don't know what there's left to do."
Xander had scalding tears that burned paths into his face running down his cheeks as he begged, "You can let me make it up to you, Will. I'll do anything to have you back...save sexual favors." He noticed immediately that humor would not save him here, and it was the first time in a while that his best weapon against pain did not work.
Hardening her heart to the sight of her best friend in despair, she asked bitterly, "Like what, turn back time? Go back a few days and tell Buffy about the curse? How about going back to Ms. Calendar's death and trying to be just a *little* more compassionate...here's one: try returning to when you first made fun of Angel in front of her. Every time you did, you hurt her that much more. But you know what? That's impossible."
Her tone of voice flooded with the familiar tenderness he was used to, although now it was a bit different, older as it said, "You can't move backwards in your life, Xander. Life moves ahead everyday, and no one, not even the Slayer, has the ability to change that. So, I have decided to move forward, and I suggest you do the same. We can't get back what we used to share, and I don't know that I'd want to. Perhaps, depending on time and what happens with Buffy, things might be different, but right now...I need to end this."
Even her own body was betraying her, droplets of water pouring down her face. Xander reached up and brushed them off, careful of her bruises. "I-I, uh, I'll always watch out for you. If you need a Xander-shaped shoulder to cry on..." She nodded, "Thanks, I'll remember that."
Standing up shakily, Willow got up and bent over to look him directly in the eyes, ignoring the dizziness it caused. "Good-bye, Xand. I think I'm gonna miss you." She brought her lips to his and closed her eyes, tasting the his tears mixing with hers. After she realized they had been that way for longer than was acceptable, Willow ended the kiss and backed away. She did not open her eyes until she had turned around, afraid that if she looked into them one more time, she would never be able to let go.
Xander watched her leave, half-expecting her to turn around and tell him it was all a joke. As the shadows surrounding the area grew longer, the skies darker, he continued to sit where he was, refusing to believe what had happened. Finally, he let out a shuddering sigh and stood up, feeling utterly lost. At times like this, he usually turned to Willow or Buffy for some understanding. In a pinch, he would even go to Giles for advice, but not even the librarian was around. Realizing that he was alone, Xander began for home and the comfort the four walls of his room could provide for him.
* * *
The sun was close to setting as Angel sat miserably at the library's main floor table. He was plagued by the knowledge that his Buffy was out there in the world, all by herself. Not that he lacked faith in her ability to survive on her own; he just could not shake the sinking feeling that something was not right with her. Buffy could very well be in jeopardy without them knowing, and that perception was destroying Angel second by painstakingly long second. Consumed in his inner turmoil, the vampire did not hear Giles creep into the darkened room.
"Angel," he said gently, as not to frighten him. The Watcher waited for a response, but when he was met with silence, he continued, "Don't do this. You cannot blame yourself for what's happened, Angel. Nothing was your fault except possibly the shared responsibility for rushing headlong into an...encounter...without researching the consequences. The demon Angelus may have used your body, but I swear on my life that I do not hold you accountable for Jenny's death. Say what you will, b-but I won't change my mind."
Scoffing, Angel replied, "If I had stayed in Manhattan instead of trying to help her, she would still be around, and she wouldn't have this awful weight on her shoulders."
"If you had stayed in Manhattan, she wouldn't have experienced a love as genuine as yours. Angel, I don't want this for you, th-this guilt and self-loathing. More importantly, I know quite certainly that Buffy wants nothing more than to smooth the rough edges of your relationship over and start fresh. All we have to do is find her, Angel. She could not have strayed too far from home."
Millions of images of his beloved raced through his mind at once, her soft laugh reverberating through his head. As he pictured her, a speculation that had been playing itself over and over ran again inside of him, inside his heart. Trying to find his voice to vocalize what he felt, Angel turned to Giles and asked, "If...If Buffy really is out there, alive and well...why did the Watcher's Council send another Slayer? Even though Kendra died, Buffy would have been recognized as the only one, again. Something's happened to her..."
Sighing, Giles visibly shuttered. "I know; I know. I have contemplated the same thing and have reached a conclusion: don't think about it. The Council could very well have a reasonable explanation for the addition of a second Slayer. Regardless, I believe we should focus our energies on searching for Buffy. In the meantime, I have something for you...from her."
Walking over to the sullen vampire, Giles handed him a tan envelope with, "My Angel," written on it. "Mrs. Summers gave us all letters that Buffy wrote a while ago. I don't believe any of us have thought to open them yet, as they are her good-byes, but...here you are." Angel turned the paper in his hands absently as he stared off into space. Sensing the distress that he was experiencing, Giles said gently, "We *will* find her, Angel, and she *will* be unharmed. You must tell yourself that."
Angel shook his head slowly, and in a haunting voice that sent shivers up the Watcher's spine, said, "She is *not* okay." Desperately attempting to regain his faltering composure, he continued, "Ever since we began to fall in love, I've had this...sixth sense about Buffy. It's not rare between vampires who feel...our kind's equivalent to affection... to form a mental bond that allows them to know the other's emotions. Granted, the one I share with Buffy isn't that strong because she's not a vampire, but...something just doesn't feel right, Giles. Something's...changed. I-I just can't put my finger on it."
Nodding, Giles said, "I can quite certainly sympathize with you in this case, Angel, and if you need a ear, know that at least I am able to forgive you...Excuse me, I have some phone calls to make, trying to track Buffy down, and the like." Walking into his office, the Watcher gave one last troubled glance at Angel before shutting the door.
Angel let a pink-tinged tear roll down a pale cheek before brushing it away with his finger. Deciding that if he did not read his Slayer's letter to him now, he might never find the heart to do so again, he slipped the tear-dampened finger under the fold of the envelope and tore it open. Almost immediately, the sweet scent of Buffy permeated the air, her fragrance emanating from the words within. He pulled it out and, for a moment, stared not at the words, but the paper and writing itself.
The stationery's boarder was deep crimson, a thin line of metallic gold running through it. A lighter shade of red held the black lines on which Buffy's handwriting was eloquently written. Angel traced the lines with his eyes, following the curves of the letters as they laid upon the page. Finally snapping out of his daze, Angel turned his attentions to the actual words, his love's parting letter to him.
Dear Angel,
2/27/98
It's been just over a month since you were taken from me...a direct cause of what I did. However, as I write this, I'm filled with a little glimmer of hope. Why, you ask? Because, Lover, if you're reading this, I can only assume that we got you back somehow. That has been my one wish since I condemned your soul. Angel, I can't tell you how much I hate myself for everything that happened to you on my birthday. Sometimes I wish that I could go back and keep my hormones in check, but then there are times that I wouldn't let go of that one night with you for anything in the world...save you, that is.
I wanted you to know something since I guess telling you in person is...impossible now. I don't regret my birthday, even though I guess you didn't have a...good time. God, I will never forgive myself for causing you the pain I did.
Angel, I love you; I always will. I'm not sure where I'll be when you read this, but I'm sure I died 'in the line of fire.' Ah, the life and times of a Slayer...sucks, doesn't it? You know what? It doesn't matter to me. The fact that you are home means the world to me. My life and happiness pale in comparison to yours, and nothing you did as Angelus could ever change that.
There is one thing you can do for me now that I'm gone. I'm begging you to watch over them - my friends, my mother, and my Watcher. I was their protector when you turned; they looked to me for guidance. They saw me being strong, and so they were able to be, as well. Now, it's your turn. Be there for them while they grieve and try to console them.
So, that's that. Maybe we got to spend some time together before I had to go away, maybe not. Regardless, I was happy with my life, but I was happiest with your love. You meant more to me than words could ever describe, and I am eternally thankful that you gave me, the lowly Slayer, a bit of love in my brief life.
Yours forever
Buffy Anne Summers
Laying the paper on the library's table, Angel began sobbing silently in spite of himself. Even after he had murdered Ms. Calendar, his gift from heaven still found it in her heart to love him. Shocked, he read the words over again, thinking that he had misinterpreted them. He had not; they spoke their adoration of him as powerfully as they had when he first read them. Not caring that the sun had set and he was free to go, Angel remained at the table, committing his love's words to memory as though they truly were her last.
Angel had read the words several times over before he noticed the second to last paragraph. 'I'm begging you to watch over them.' Puzzled, he sat back in his seat and thought, 'I've heard that before...Buffy told me that once, but the question is: when?' He continued his efforts to recall when she possibly might have said anything remotely similar to that, but came up with nothing. Nothing, except the echoing sound of her voice, pleading with him to protect her loved ones from harm. "The new Slayer," he said out loud as the thought occurred to him.
"Star? What about her?" Angel dragged his eyes up to meet the Watcher who had overheard what he had just said. Sighing, he shrugged as he replied, "I don't know. Something about what Buffy said in this letter..about protecting all of you...i-it just seems like I heard her say that to me before. I think it involved Star."
Shaking his head, Giles said, "That can't be. Buffy doesn't know about her. She might have asked you once to help us with the new Slayer that would be called after Buffy...but the situation, here, is a tad different. We must believe that she is all right. Now, why don't you get out of this library. Go to your apartment, change, and then we can discuss a course of action for locating Buffy."
The vampire mumbled a thanks and good-bye as he picked himself up from the chair. Having just set, the sun still lit up the horizon, blood red beams of light reflecting off the patches of cotton clouds. He strolled leisurely through Sunnydale, not wanting to return to his apartment where the pain had first sprung forth. Yet, arrive home he did, and upon opening his door, Angel was greeted with the sight of a framed picture sitting on his coffee table.
It was a portrait of himself and his Slayer, just weeks before her birthday. Grabbing the picture from where it sat, he walked over to his meticulously made bed. Angel lay down with the picture and, clutching it to his body, sobbed over the bewildering absence of his love. "God, what did I do to you, love?...What the Hell did I do?" came his voice, laden with whimpers. Just when he needed her tiny body to remove the grief and loneliness the most, she was too far from home.
* * *
On the outskirts of town
"Never again, never *ever* bloody again!" Spike stormed down the streets of Sunnydale, fuming over their flight home, his two ladies trailing behind him.
From inside the cloud of his rage, the vampire heard his childe's mocking voice shout, "Nice walk you've got going on, there, Spikey."
Giggling herself, Drusilla regarded her lover's awkward strut and added, "It makes you look like a bird...Do you think my bird's still breathing, luv?"
Ignoring her, Spike hulted in the middle of the sidewalk and glared at Buffy. "You probably think this is like a regular ol' comedy hour...*May* I remind you that you were the one who handed me the little demon to hold while his bitch got up to go to the bathroom. I swear on my grave that I *will* even the score."
The former Slayer rolled her eyes and said, "Gees, Spike, lighten up. It was only a toddler."
He raised his eyebrow and spoke, the volume increasing as he went along. "No, *Pet*, that-that...*thing* was bloody spawn of Satan that has no respect for higher forms of life. It cried...it whined...and then it *peed on me*! It used my bloody leg as a friggin' urinal." Resuming his walk that kept the wet cloth away from his leg, Spike began down the walkway, once more.
Silence fell between the trio for a moment before Spike whirred around again and said, "Of course, we can't forget 'Erin' the pasty-faced *strewdess*." Throwing his voice into a falsetto, he mimicked her, "Have a nice day-have a nice day-thank you-thank you-hope you enjoyed your bloody flight-"
Cutting her sire off, Buffy said, "Yes, all *right*, the point has been received, sorted, and filed. Shut up."
Continuing to mutter under his breath, he said , "Damn stupid 'Erin,' how the bloody hell was *I* supposed to know you don't slap women's butts anymore?"
Buffy smirked. "You really aren't a bright guy, are you, Spike?"
Deciding the best course of action was to close his mouth, he did not utter a single word until they reached their destination. "Home sweet home," Drusilla cooed next to him. "I wonder if Sunshine is inside, still...She's callin' me, Spike. Can I get her?"
Looking up at the tall mansion which had severed as home for their last few months in Sunnydale, Spike shrugged. "I don't see why not. We *do* need a place to stay until tomorrow evening that can hold all three of us. Unless, of course, I decide to let the Slayer become well-done out here, in which case we'll only need room for *two*."
Sneering, Buffy said, "Don't...call...me...Slayer, William." At his annoyed, warning growl, she grinned and continued, "In case you forgot, my 'ever-present' Slayer buddies will be watching this place for you guys to come back. Staying here would be like, 'Ooh, hey, why don't you stake us, now. Thanks so much."
Sarcasm leaving her voice, she grew serious. "You two go on ahead; find a better place where we can set up shop." Sensing a presence within the mansion that had elicited so much pain from her just days before, Buffy said cryptically, "I have some business to take care of in there. I'll find Sunshine and your dolls, Dru."
Smiling broadly, Drusilla tugged her lover's hand. "Come, my sweet. They'll all be rescued from the mean house, and they'll want a nice place to live." Nodding, Spike allowed himself to be pulled by Drusilla towards the old factory district. As they walked away, Buffy heard him saying, "Now all I have to do is find all my old mates and tell them to get their worthless carcasses underneath my roof, again. Now *I'm* the bloody big cheese."
Smiling, Buffy turned to the large estate and started towards the front door, knowing that this could be the retribution she longed for.
* * *
Inside the dark room which held the demon Acathla, Angel sat at its feet contemplating Buffy's disappearance and how to win her back. He had been like this for a few hours, now, sitting wordlessly in front of the stone figure that had driven his love out of his life. After weeping in his apartment for what had seemed like a millennium, Angel had the sudden urge to return to the mansion where Fate had seized his star-crossed romance with the Slayer.
Was it closure he sought, here, or a reminder of the love and relief that emanated from her just days before? Deciding that it must be the latter, the vampire tried to figure out why those emotions - the passion - seemed so distant. Buffy had not betrayed him, but Angel still could not shake the feeling that she had given up on their relationship. There was something inexplicable being communicated to him through his fragile connection with her. About to tumble deeper into his sorrows, he snapped his head up from its bowed position at the sudden presence of another.
Buffy had felt Angel's anguish and suffering the moment she set foot in the mansion. Creeping carefully to where Acathla still stood, she concentrated on her beloved. With a malevolent smile, she realized that he had no idea that she had been brought across. 'Must be the left-over Slayer vibes,' she thought. Angel's head popped up as he recognized the presence which shared the room with him, and Buffy laughed to herself, 'This is going to be *too* easy.'
Putting on her 'nice Slayer-girl' facade, Buffy whispered, "Angel, my God..." with an innocence-laden voice. He spun around to face her as she breathed his name, relief clearly written on his face. Fighting the impulse to inform him of her new 'family ties' with Spike, Buffy continued, "You didn't think I could ever *really* leave you, did you?"
"God, B-buffy, you're-...How can you possibly forgive what I've done? I-I killed Jenny; I tormented you..." His voice drifted away as tears began to stain his pale face, their paths leaving pink streaks in their wake.
Buffy took a step closer to Angel and said in a hushed voice, "A lot of things have happened between us, yes...but I think we can work it out. All you have to do is return to us."
Apparently believing that 'us' was referring to the Slayerettes, Angel himself closed a portion of the gap which separated them. Desperation played in his eyes as Angel whispered, "Buffy, please...let me hold you. Allow me to take away all the pain and the anger that I caused you when I was..."
Again, he failed to complete the sentence for what he saw in his lover's eyes expressed to him that he was forgiven, freed from the blame that plagued his soul. A blissful sensation came over him as he took the final steps to where she stood waiting for him. Pulling her into his embrace, Angel held her to him, placing a cool cheek on a top her head.
Inhaling her scent, Angel took a step away from Buffy, noticing her usual flowery fragrance was uncomfortably altered. He stared at her questioningly as he laid a hand upon her cheek, feeling an alarm sound inside him upon seeing the peculiar smirk painted on her face. The instant he brushed against the flawless skin, Angel felt the coolness there, and an involuntary shiver ran through him. "No, God, no..."
Buffy laughed softly as she watched her lover stumble backwards a step. Grief clearly written upon his face, Angel's mouth continued to form her name, yet no sound was permitted to escape from it. The shock of her transformation had stolen his voice, leaving his sobs to become more audible. Finally deciding to speak again, Buffy said innocently, "Now, now, Ang, you shouldn't take God's name in vain. It's bad for your soul..."
Bursting into laughter once more as a chill of absolute horror passed through him, she shook her head. "You know what? I've been meaning to tell you for some time that the whole pathetic 'my dog just died' look just doesn't work for you. Honestly, it's not gonna get you anywhere." Off his pained expression, Buffy rolled her eyes. "Come on, Angel, I'm still Buffy; we can be together. Isn't that what you always wanted?"
Droplets of pinkish tears clouded over his own eyes as he listened to her speak. How he wanted to believe that it was true that they could spend eternity with each other. Shuddering sobs racked his body harder as he forced himself into recognizing that his Buffy was no where to be seen, and this shell was nothing more than a demon bent on hurting him. Despite this, he still had difficulty saying, "No, Buffy died what I imagine was noble death, one for which she was more than worthy. You're merely a destructive monster who wears her visage."
"Oh la-la, mon chere, such big words...such a good try. But do you want to know how your precious Buffy *really* died?" Angel had slowly worked himself up into a ball of fury as the fledgling spoke, her words registering in his mind instantly. Refusing to believe that his beautiful Slayer surrendered willingly to the darkness, the elder vampire lashed out in a blind rage, forgetting the combative prowess that his opponent possessed.
With great ease, Buffy side-stepped his attack and caught his right arm as he darted by her. She tossed him backwards with immense force, sending him careening into the back wall just feet away from where Acathla still stood. When he regained his equilibrium, his eyes spotted Buffy waiting nonchalantly for him to enter the battle once more. "Gees, Lover, where's the 'Great Angelus,' huh?"
Before her next laugh was able to leave her lips, Angel's foot connected with her mouth. "He's right here."
Angel took advantage of her daze to land a well-placed roundhouse to her jaw, ducking as she wildly struck out at him. Flinging her to the ground, he whipped a stake out from his black jacket and held it to her heart. Dragging her gaze up to meet his, Buffy whispered to him the words he knew would hurt the most and quoted her foolish soul's final letter to him, "Protect them for me, love." To add to her performance, she squeezed her eyes shut, confident that her plan would succeed; succeed it did.
Cursing harshly, Angel lowered the stake and said, "Damn, you're right...Go, get out of Sunnydale. Take you're sire and get out."
He started to back away from his beloved when the Slayer's face darkened with the corruption her body had under gone and said chillingly, "Which is exactly why...I...win."
Without warning, she bolted upright and threw herself at him. Weak from the emotional trauma of the day, coupled with the fact that he had not fed since returning to Earth, Angel was taken down before he knew what happened. Buffy produced rope from an unseen part of her body, in her usual fashion, and bound him easily. Not able to find the strength to overpower the former Slayer, Angel submitted to her sorrowfully.
Buffy dragged Angel to his feet and sat him forcefully into one of the few chairs that had survived her previous attack on Angelus. Working swiftly, the former Slayer's hands bound her lover's behind the chair in an intricate bond. Walking away to view her handiwork, she chuckled and said, "Well, well, how the pompous a fallen."
Smiling sadly, Angel said, "I'll get out, and when I do, I'll make sure that Buffy's death is avenged."
"Buffy's death - thank you for reminding me. You *probably* don't want to hear this, but she *did* relinquish her right to die a dignified Slayer death." Leaning forward, Buffy whispered, "Your *beloved's* demise was disgraceful; she acted nothing like the 'champion Slayer' she is in your eyes."
Returning to her normal tone of voice, she shrugged and continued, "Well, I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that I, or she rather, gave up. She gave in to the sorrow and confusion in her life and went to Ireland to kill herself."
Sneering, Angel said, "My Buffy would never do that; she's too intelligent." The Slayer smirked. "Oh, I assure you that I'm not lying. She really did give in to Spike; practically *asked* him to kill her. Damn, am I happy she did, though. Just think, Lover, it was *your* son that made it possible."
The sadness surfaced upon his features once more as Buffy started to back away. She found a gold satin cord that was attached to a thick velvet curtain and pulled it, reveling a sky that was quickly becoming brilliant with sunlight. "I guess this is where I hurry underground to go find Spike, make sure he didn't get himself into any brawls with the local vampire population...One more thing..." Buffy reached down to her ring finger and yanked the Claddagh ring off. Tossing it apathetically to his feet, she added, "That Buffy is dead. Behold the *new* Slayer."
Angel watched her start out the door and was just about to let his sobs out when he heard her snap her fingers. "Damn, I *knew* I was forgetting something!"
Going into a deft impression of her vampiric mother's British accent, she said, "My mum wanted me to find her dolly and her poor little puppy. How *could* I have forgotten?" Disappearing from sight for a few moments, the petite blond reemerged with a porcelain doll tucked under one arm, a small dog in the other.
"This is the only one I could find. She'll just have to deal. Still...this is an *awfully* big load..." Smiling as an idea came to her, Buffy's face morphed into her demon visage, making Angel shudder with horror. Her fangs descended upon the whimpering animal, and he was forced to turn his head away from her.
Seeing the body fall to the hard cement out of the corner of his eye, Angel looked back up and discovered Buffy, in her human guise, smirking. "Squeamish, are we?" Once again walking away, she shouted over her shoulder, "Burn in Hell, Lover...again."
Buffy was gone. Just like that, his cherished mortal lover had been erased from his life, leaving the empty shell that reminded him a bit too much of Angelus for comfort. Feeling the sun rising just beyond the walls of the mansion, Angel welcomed the end of his existence, for it would have been a worthless one without his love. 'Protect them for me...' Her voice echoed in the back of his mind the words of her letter to him. Yet, he could not shake the feeling that he had heard her utter that plea before.
Watching the sun creep closer and closer to his feet, illuminating the still body of the tiny dog, Angel suddenly wished that he had fought harder. It was his duty to guard her friends, not to submit to death. Submit he had, though, and there was no turning back.
The light of day was a heartbeat away from searing him when darkness suddenly overtook the room. Angel picked his head up and used his vampiric eyesight to see through the blackness. Finding his savior, he growled, "You."
Shrugging, the figure said, "We need your help. I couldn't let you die."
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