Epilogue
The two-story house called to him as he walked silently back home -- a becon in the twilight’s emptiness. Determined to go straight to his appartment after leaving the library, Angel tried to cast the image of the Rebello Drive dwelling from his mind, but it kept appearing unbidden in the back of his head. Once upon a time, Buffy’s home had been a place of comfort, and it was there that he could find the woman that cherished him with every fiber of her soul. Now that very spirit was gone from his world, and to make his suffering worse, it had been one of his own family members who had stolen her from her friends, family, and the town that desperately needed her undivided attention.
Angel finally relented and altered his course towards Buffy’s old home. As he walked slowly towards her old block, he found himself falling deep into thought, once again. This time, Star’s face was the one floating in his mind. He had met her only hours ago, and already he disliked her. He had originally supposed that it was because she was so unlike Buffy in every respect -- rigid, uncaring, and lacking the fire that both his Slayer and Kendra had possessed. This new Slayer’s skill was good enough -- in his opinion -- to keep her alive, but her moves were predicable and sloppy.
A tight feeling clenched at his stomach as Angel looked into the living rooms of the various houses lining Buffy’s block. When he saw the familes depictied in the windows, he knew he had to try to fill his Slayer’s rather large shoes. Sunnydale would never see itself through the summer if did not try to help. The Hellmouth’s mystic energy drew every kind of demon and beast known to man and God. If not properly protrolled, the town could be overrun in a matter of months. It was up to himself and Buffy’s mouring friends to keep the delicate balance until Star learned to operate in a more useful manner. If she attempted to pull the mess she had in the library on any of Sunnydale’s wilder demons, chances were that she would become a warm meal in moments.
As he came to a halt in front of Buffy’s house, Angel starred misty-eyed at the window he had frequented when she was still alive and his soul had yet to be torn away from his body. Those had been the best nights of his life since the Romani had cast their curse upon him. Buffy had made him feel needed for the first time in years, not to mention loved. It had been her passion for him that empowered him with the ability to move beyond his numerous sins and understand that he could do real good.
However Angel regretfully recalled the times when she was afraid; deep in her eyes of sapphire there had been a little girl that had been forced to grow up too fast. She may have been the Slayer -- possibly one of the best the world had ever seen -- but she still needed consolation from time to time. Before her seventeenth birthday, Angel had vowed that he would protect her no matter what the cost simply because she needed someone defending *her*.
“Look how *that* turned out,” he muttered as he stared at her dark bedroom window.
Angel found himself thinking back to the moment when he agreed to help the Slayer, thereby unwittingly beginning the process that would eventually get her killed. Two years ago, Whistler had found him living on his own in New York City and trained him to assist a Slayer in battle. He had been more than willing to protect the little girl he had seen weep silently in her bathroom after she had experienced her fate firsthand. The expression of unadulterated bewilderment that crossed her juvenile features was enough to make his heart split in two. Here was this beautiful teenager, who had obviously enjoyed her normal life, thrown into a battle for a cause about which she knew nothing. Her tears told her story. ‘I have never been responsible for anyone but me, and now the weight of the entire world rests on my fifteen-year-old shoulders, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.’
Her powers were new to her, and Slaying was to be a real life horror movie. Buffy was clearly lost as she cried in her bathroom that night, and all Angel had wished to do at that moment was walk up and hug her trembling frame. In that instant, he realized he was about to be good for something -- that he had a future. Unfortunately he was so warmed by the notion that he was going to change a little girl’s life, that he remained ignorant to the consequences. He did not stop to think that by helping the weeping girl he could be walking her down the road to Hell. In fact, he had never expected anything to happen between them. That all changed when he found himself looking up into her flamming eyes in the dim alley behind the Bronze.
Angel emerged from his reverie as he walked up the drive towards Buffy’s front door. He clearly remembered the last time he had been at her house; it had been to inform Joyce about the night he and Buffy had made love. With a cringe, he remembered the masked agony in Buffy’s eyes as Willow read the spell to revoke his invitation, and suddenly he wondered just what he had planned to do at this house. He questioned just how welcome he was in her old home as reached for the door bell and pressed it once.
Only a few moments passed until Joyce came up to the door and looked out the glass. She opened it with a small smile and said, “Angel, hello. I-I wasn’t expecting anyone. I just back from Los Angeles about two hours ago, and uh, I’m not in the best of shapes.”
A frown crossing his face, Angel observed her condition and related it to the way Buffy had looked in the final weeks of his demon’s torment on her. His Slayer’s eyes had been haggard, and her shoulders slumped from the knowledge that every day that passed without a curse to bring him back brought a greater possibility that she would have to slay her lover.
Mrs. Summers resembled that Buffy, now, and it was a fact Angel was sure the teenager would not haved liked to know. Dark circles discolored the areas under her mother’s eyes, a vast contrast to the ashen hue of her skin. Her shoulders seemed every bit as drooped as her daughter’s had been just days ago, and her clothes were wrinkled from what he could only guess was restless sleep or hours of sobbing. It was Joyce’s eyes, like Buffy, that were the most haunting of all -- dull on the surface with despondency waiting to erupt just below. It was plain to see that she was greatly affected by all that had happened the past week. Not only had she found out that her daughter was a super-hero of a sort, but that daughter had been seized from her and taken over by a demon using the girl’s body. Her daughter, his lover -- over come with the darkness of the vampire and certainly forever changed.
In response to Joyce, Angel said, “I was just on my way home from the library, and I thought I would drop by. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and...I-I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as though she was trying to stop another onslaught of tears from pouring down her cheeks. After succeeding, she opened them back up and said, “I’m coping as best as any mother could. I’ve lost my daughter. My *only* daughter. Killed by some punk vampire who decided it was okay to let a demon into her body...Wha--...What do I do? How do I get over this? I...I-I-I told her to get out. She wouldn’t have gone if--...Now s-she’s dead...My baby...”
“Buffy would have gone after me, er, my demon regardless of what you said.”
Joyce looked up at him. “She--...To kill you?”
After a quick sigh, Angel replied, “She was very brave. She knew her duty was, and in that instance, it was to kill the demon that looked like her lover. You couldn’t have done anything to stop her.”
When Joyce did not respond, he continued, “Mrs. Summers, believe me when I say that I miss her every bit as much as you do. I won’t rest until I’ve exhausted every source looking for a way to bring her back to us. I promise you.”
“Angel, feel free to call me Joyce. Mrs. Summers sounds like that awful witch of an ex-mother-in-law I have.” She paused as her cheeks flushed a bit. “I’m-I’m sorry. My manners are...lacking right now. Would you like to come in? I’d like to know more about this new Slayer Mr. Giles mentioned to us.”
Angel heart soar at the invitation back into Buffy’s home, and he walked carefully over the threshold. The smell of their house was heaven to him; he knew that in this place, Buffy was all around him. He went over to the living room couch and took a seat, while Joyce curled up on the oversize chair and asked, “How’s Oz? Is he all right?”
“Yeah, I guess. From what I saw, he only had a broken arm and some stitches. To tell you the truth, I’m much more worried about Willow.”
Joyce’s eyebrows furrowed, and she motioned him silently to continue. “I-I don’t what’s gotten into her lately...God, what am I saying? Of course I know, but--...Losing Buffy was hard enough on her, but then when she lost Xander to his betrayal...I think she feels like she’s alone in the world....I got a call from her last night. She told me that she ran into Buffy. Supposedly Buffy was really nice to her and gave her a number where she could always be reached. Willow was practically dying to call. I mean, I actually had to talk her out of it.”
After thinking for a moment about what he had told her, Joyce asked, “You don’t think that all this is making her a little...unbalanced, if you know what I mean?”
“Willow’s not going crazy. Yet, anyway. Her loneliness is just messing with her judgement is all...Do think you could keep an eye on her during the day when I can’t? I’d feel better.”
Nodding, Joyce said, “Of course...That poor thing must feel as bad as I do...God, every time I think that Buffy isn’t upstairs in her room, I-I get that much more lonely, you know?...Anyway, what’s the, um...the new Slayer like? Wasn’t she supposed to arrive today?”
Angel sneered slightly and said, “Star. She’s nothing like your daughter. Buffy was a powerful young woman, but she also had heart. She had want to kick the crap out of the undead, and she had her friends’ support. With Star...I don’t know how the Council ever expected her to guard the Hellmouth properly. She’s way too sloppy, and I don’t say that out of favoritism, either. It’s the truth. It’s definitely going to get her and innocent people killed if she’s not careful.”
Having been so occupied with what he had been saying, Angel did not remember Joyce ever picking up a frame from the coffee table. However, there it was in her hands, and she was staring wordlessly at the yearbook picture of her daughter. He wondered just how much of his description of Star she had actually heard.
Without looking up from the picture, Joyce said, “Buffy’s room is open for you. I don’t think she’d mind you going up there for a little while. I tidied up a bit since she left so it wouldn’t look like she had been packing. It just looks like s-she’ll, uh...she’ll be back any second.”
She motioned him upstairs with a slight wave of her hand. Grateful that Joyce had admitted him in her daughter’s bedroom, Angel took each step slowly, as though he was about to surprise Buffy with a visit like he had done many times before. However, when he arrived at her bedroom, the room was empty. Buffy was not home. Buffy would never be home, again.
Angel shut the door behind him as he stepped in, and suddenly all he could feel was Buffy. She surrounded him on every side, wrapping her arms around his trembling body and caressing him softly. Her unique citrus scent floated in the room on a current of emotion. The feelings he sensed were all the familiar ones from the days when they were a couple. Love swirled around him in pulses, bouncing off the multitudes of pictures of her with her friends and settling around the single one that sat on her dresser.
It was the two of them from her surprise party in January. Before they left for the docks, Willow had insisted upon taking it with her unequaled exuberance that had been a part of her personality in the days before Angelus. Rather, in the hours before Angelus, for it was only hours before his transformation when Willow explained joyously that since he had his drawings of her to look at while they were apart, Buffy should have pictures of them both on their last night together. To appease their friend, Buffy and he had put their sorrow off to the side to pose for a series of pictures. He had to admit, Willow had taken a very beautiful shot of them.
Upon closer inspection, Angel realized that this particular one had not been posed. Instead, it appeared as though the teenager had taken it on the sly. Buffy had pressed herself tightly against him, her arms firmly around his waist. She looked ready to cry, and if he remembered correctly, she did seconds after the picture had been taken. The expression on her face was one of anguish; her boyfriend was leaving the country on her birthday, and she was crushed. As for himself, he held Buffy just as firmly and had laid his head on top of hers. He remembered comforting her that night as she whimpered softly into his chest before her friends.
As he brushed a finger along the frame, he wondered why Buffy had kept such a picture out where she could easily see it. He figured the last thing she would have wanted to remember was what they had together, seeing as how she was constantly being prepped to slay him. Angel sighed and shook his head as he figured out her reasoning; this was merely another form of punishing herself.
“Really makin’ with the girl-y for a Slayer’s room, huh?”
Angel jumped slightly as the voice continued, “Ah, well, Buffy never did go for the predictable.”
After turning to face the source of the voice, Angel said, “Don’t *do* that to me, Whistler. God, you’re an annoying little thing, sometimes. What are you doing here?”
Whistler shook his head and replied, “Tsk-tsk, Angel. You should know better than to mock my height-impaired stature. Remember what happened the last time you did that?”
“Yeah, I do. You whined about it for the next week...Can you just answer my question? I’d kind of like to know why you’re standing inside my girlfriend’s bedroom.”
After shrugging almost unnoticeably, Whistler smiled. “I spy with my little eyes...a vampire who’s gonna be happy.”
“Just when I think you can’t get any more pathetic...”
The demon held his hands up in surrender and said, “All right, all right. No more jokes...I’m here on business. How’s Buffy? Any news on that front?”
Angel nodded. “Yeah, um...she, Spike, and Dru are on the move until early fall, according to Willow.” When he saw the demon’s stunned expression, he added, “She and Buffy are getting a little too close for my taste. I mean, I love my Buffy to pieces, but the woman Willow is becoming friends with is *not* her...You know that more than anyone, having lost--”
“That’s got nothin’ to do with this.” He frowned as he continued, “Whatever Buffy’s up to spells trouble for the little redhead...We need to watch that...Speaking of people we need to watch, what’s Star like? Is she the reverent joy I’ve heard she is?”
When Angel only scowled in response, Whistler said, “I know, kid. I know. Star was never meant to be the Slayer for this time period. Actually wasn’t *ever* meant to be Slayer.”
“What do you mean? I thought that Slayers are predestined to their role in life. Isn’t it Fate?”
Whistler sighed. “Angel, Angel, Angel! Did you learn anything from what I taught you? *Nothing* is for sure in life. Anyway, rumor has it that the Watcher’s Council’s in an uproar. What the hell did you guys do? They’re sayin’ that Buffy wasn’t supposed to die for another three years.”
With a pained expression on his face, Angel asked, “Die? She was--...How?”
“Well, she, uh...she was supposed to face some big, bad demon from the great beyond or whatever, and it was going to slice and dice her like a...thing you don’t want to hear about.”
When Angel did not acknowledge his news, Whistler said, “There’s gonna be some major shit goin’ down here on the Hellmouth, and your girlfriend was going to be play Obi-won Kenobi. Without her, Sunnydale is overrun by the Hellmouth, and Hell is unleashed on Earth. Not a fun thing, methinks. So, the Council’s busy in Britain trying to figure out what in blue blazes went wrong with the timeline. I could tell them in a second -- you and Buffy gettin’ all snugly. No one foresaw that, and I guess it’s throwing everything out of whack...That’s why I’m here. I found what we were looking for.”
Angel’s eyes swiftly focused on him from where they had fallen back on the picture of he and Buffy. Thinking he had misheard, he asked, “‘Found what we were looking for?’ You found a way to bring Buffy back?”
With a sigh, Whistler walked over to Buffy’s bed and sat down. After Angel had joined him, he began, “Yes and no. I have two leads, but I’m not sure what’s going to work. The first one is a vampiric discipline ritual. Some ten or eleven centuries ago, the vampires from the old world would perform it on any traitors. From what I’ve heard, it’s basically the same concept of the curse on you, only minus the Romani magicks. The only drawback is that, again, it might not work on the Slayer. If it doesn’t, there *may* be another way.”
He paused for a moment to look at his hands before meeting Angel’s eyes once more and saying, “There is...a legend that might work. You’ve heard of the Tiberius Manifesto, right? The lost sister volume to the Codex?...As the myth goes, it was lost when an Ancient One stole it in the days before there was an established Watcher’s Council. Apparently, he had run across a ritual that would give the Slayer -- not just any vampire -- her soul back should she ever be brought over. For obvious reasons, vampires don’t want some unstoppable vampire-Slayer chasing after them, so it was burned. Not a lot of help, right? Well, scuttlebutt with my buddies in the underground is that it was never destroyed. Angel, man...This could be our way out. You could get your girl back...forever. Then the Hellmouth would get its rightful Slayer back, and the world could go on living happily ever after.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming on,” Angel mumbled.
After removing his hat, Whistler said, “Good ‘but’ prediction...But...the problem is no one knows for sure where the hell the Manifesto could be. We have a definite locale on the vampire’s ritual, but like I said, it’s got a failure rate of 60%, in my opinion. The Manifesto...I have a few hazy cordinates, but none are sure things...I could use some help searching.”
“How long are we looking at?”
Whistler shrugged. “We’re probably looking at the same amount of time that Buffy is out of town. Thank the stars for small favors, huh?...Of course, that’s assuming the Manifesto exists, and that one of the coordinates on it is right. If not, it could take a lot longer to--”
“And while we’re off playing archeologist, someone could die. I’m sorry, Whistler. I just don’t think we should be leaving the Hellmouth to Star.”
The demon shook his head and responded, “Listen to yourself, man. If you want your babe back, you need to trust that Star will do for now. She’s got Buffy’s crew, anyway. She’ll be able to cope as long as the Buffster doesn’t make an early appearance. Okay?”
When Angel nodded, Whistler continued, “Good. Now, speaking of Buffy, why is she taking a road trip? She wanna make you a creep, again?”
Angel scoffed and said, “Probably. I guess that’s just a bridge we’ll have to cross when we get back. When are we leaving?”
After glancing out the window, Whistler said, “Not tonight, that’s for sure. We’ve used up too many hours of darkness, and you can’t tolerate the sunlight, my man. First thing tomorrow evening we’ll head out for Rome. That’s where the vampire’s curse should be. Try to get some sleep, Stinky. We’ve got something to go on, now. In a few months, Buffy will be in your arms again. Whistler’s honor...On that happy note, I gotta get my tail outta here. There’s some phone calls I have to make concerning the Manifesto. That, and I should make a stop by the Watcher to tell him we’re out of here for the summer. Later, Angel.”
The room fell into a hush as Whistler’s form departed from the window. Alone to his thoughts, once more, Angel redirected them to where they had been outside. He recalled the fierceness in Buffy’s blue eyes as she stood over him, ready to fight. The astonishment he felt at seeing her like that was unimaginable. The entire time in L.A., Merrick had to plead with her to get her to even pick up a stake; she was too immature to get over her cheerleader stage. Up until the time he had left for Sunnydale -- approximately one month before she arrived -- Buffy had been nothing but apathetic about her destiny.
His surprise was tremendous, for there she was -- the Slayer that refused to grow up -- with more poise than he remembered any before her having. The ancientness in her eyes told the story of her previous battles; the quips replaced her incessant whining. Immediately, Angel had fallen in love with this new Buffy Anne Summers, and soon he felt her following him down that dangerous path.
Over the next year, she had gotten closer to him than he had ever let a woman be in all his existence. Something about her had made the concept of the two of them as a couple seem so right. Her birthday changed all that their relationship was, but it was also the first time in his wretched life that someone had honestly cared for him. From that moment on, they had been separated body and soul, but there was finally an end in sight.
Angel refused to handle the realization that Buffy would have to be staked if Whistler’s curses did not work. Perhaps that was why all of a sudden he wanted to dart out of her room and dig through Europe’s soil with his bare hands in search of the fabled Tiberius Manifesto. He would find a a usable ritual, not only for her, but for Jennifer Calendar, who had died wanting only to make amends. For Buffy and himself to be reunited was her final wish, and so he would attempt to continue what she had begun months ago.
As Angel felt the absolute hollowness of the room that used to be brimming with his love’s life, he made another vow in her name. Should she ever return to him, he would watch over her through eternity. Nothing like this could be allowed to happen again for it was destroying not only him, but the people that both Buffy and he held dear.
Despite what he had told Joyce, he knew that Willow was not handling the changes in her life very well. She was becoming slightly unstable with her emotions, and it was causing her to turn towards her former best friend to work out her confusion. Angel honestly feared what she would do while he was away.
Under normal circumstances, he hated Xander Harris, but tonight he felt a twinge of sympathy for the teenager. While it was true that he had helped cause the current situation they were in, Angel knew what it was like to be despised by everyone around him. Having not talked with Giles about the personal effects of losing Buffy, Angel was not sure how he was handling the loss of his Slayer and almost-daughter, but he imagined the British man was as broken on the inside as Joyce was on the outside. It was all his fault. Had he never allowed Buffy to fall for him, their friends would not be suffering as they were now.
So much death and misery had fallen upon the town of Sunnydale for the sake of a relationship gone awry. It was time to right his wrongs. However, even as he prepared himself for the task of delivering the Slayer back to the Hellmouth, Angel could only think of her soul. How would she be when she remembered all that she had done to the people about whom she cared? Angel feared that what infinitesimal slice of innocence had remained in her before she left would be dead by the time her soul was returned.
After sliding off her bed to kneel beside it and folding his hands in prayer, he whispered, “Dear Father, forgive her, for she knows not what she does.”
Angel let his tears fall disregarded onto the beige carpet. He did not care who heard his wails, for no matter what level of noise existed in the outside world, his would be completely soundless until her gentle laughter filled the void in his heart. Silence -- it cut into him sharper than the sword that had sent him to Hell. Silence -- it was akin to the numbness of his senses as they cried out for only her. Silence -- torture of the mind and eternal anguish of the heart. Silence.
The End
* * *
*Dedication -- “All is the Fear and Nothing is the Love” is dedicated to my best friend/ beta-reader, Jen, who helped me through many a writer’s block. Her encouragement was what prompted me to post this monstrosity in the first place, and I thank her immensely for keeping my spirits up. Every time I wrote a new scene, she would sit and read it carefully for me to make sure I was sticking to the characters’ personalities and what have you. Her praise kept me going, and her interest fed my drive to finish. And so I say thank you a hundred times, Jen, for always being there, and remember that my fanfic is *always* “better than cable!”
*Thank you’s -- First I wanted to thank the good people at The Slayer’s Fanfic Archive for putting my creation up! Also, I would like to thank all of you who have stuck with my story up until now. Your comments made me feel like people actually cared about my story as much as I did, and it helped me write faster. Thank you, everyone!
*As of right now, I’m debating whether or not to post the next two books of the trilogy, “Then Through the Darkness You Faintly Hear,” and “We Shall Be Free,” as well as the interludes that go in between them. Seeing as how I had an almost 100% drop-off in responses, I’m thinkin’ that no one is interested, anymore. If there are enough responses to part four and this epilogue, I may continue to post the stories and interludes as I write them. Regardless, I have many vignettes to post and a Forever Knight crossover to finish. Until the second book, read Buffy fanfic, hate Riley and Kate, and be merry! ~~JHorizon77
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