How Angel Got His Tattoo, or, A Love That Will Never Die
‘Who rattled his cage?’
Angelus turned at the sound of Spike’s voice as he wheeled into the dining room. Drusilla was sitting at the head of the table, playing with Miss Edith and another doll that appeared to be lacking a head.
‘He hasn’t launched into a melodramatic soliloquy about ridding the world of the Slayer or insulted my lack of mobility all day.’
Spike wheeled up to Drusilla, who crooned in delight as he stroked her cheek.
Throwing caution to the wind, Spike continued. ‘And he hasn’t been paying nearly enough attention to you, has he pet?’
Drusilla peered at him, her eyes filling with blood-tinged tears. ‘My Angel doesn’t want to play,’ she whined, dropping the headless doll.
‘Spikey does, though,’ Spike told her, patting his lap. He chanced a glance at Angelus, and saw to his disappointment that the elder vampire wasn’t paying the slightest attention to Spike and Dru. Spike thought, mildly annoyed.
‘We’ll just be going up to my room, Angelus,’ Spike commented loudly. It failed to get a reaction.
‘Dru and I are going. Together.’ Still Angel remained silent.
‘Bloody hell, mate. What’s got you in such a bad mood?’
Angel lifted his head, and actually *sighed*. Angelus, destroyer of humanity, ravager of cities and innocent virgins, was sighing like a lovesick mortal. Shaking his head, Spike left his sire to it, guiding his chair over to the corridor leading to his room.
As soon as they were gone, Angelus stood up, unable to remain still any longer. He headed to the door, entering the twilight world of Sunnydale just after sunset, his walk purposeful, his aim clear. He had to see her. He had to know once and for all. And he had to end the cycle.
* * *
‘Darling, come and tell me what you think of this.’
Angelus dropped the book he was reading and rose from the armchair by the fire.
‘What is it, Beth?’ he asked, peering over the shoulder of the woman he loved to gaze at her work.
It was a beautiful engraving of a mysterious creature. At first sight the immense feathery wings identified it as a bird. But then his attention was drawn to the cat-like head and paws. He could see the claws emerging from the visible feet. It was perched on a stand in the shape of the letter A.
‘A for Amoral?’ he teased gently. ‘Or Adultery, or Aggravation, or Abjured? Those are all words my family have used to describe our,’ he lifted her hand and kissed the Claddagh ring adorning her wedding finger, ‘union.’
‘I hate to come between you and your family like this, Angel. I hate to think that because of me your family have disowned you.’
‘That’s unimportant, love. We are together, and as soon as Father and Mother accept that everything shall be put right.’
‘And if they don’t?’
‘Then we shall simply have to manage without their money. We can do it, love. With your talent...’
‘And your connections.’
‘Yes. There are many people out there dying for work like this. With this style, and detail. For books, or signs, or paintings, even gravestones.’
‘Angel, don’t be morbid!’
‘Everybody dies, Beth. We may as well ensure they do so with a beautiful gravestone to mark their final resting place.’
Bethany sighed at him melodramatically. ‘The A stands for Angelus,’ she explained. ‘The feline part is to symbolise the undefeatable power of our love, as strong as the lion you read to me about. The wings are to show that you give me the power to fly.’
‘Love, you flatter me too much. I don’t deserve you.’
‘Angel, can we leave here? I don’t want to stay here with everyone staring at me, and whispering behind my back. They say that it is a sin to be together when we are not married.’
‘But we are, this ring is proof of that.’
‘Yes, but Father Michael would not marry us, and our union is not blessed by God.’
‘It has been blessed by a higher power than God.’
‘Higher than God? But that is blasphemy, nothing is higher than God.’
‘True love is, Beth. Not even God can forbid our love.’
‘Oh, Angel. I still can’t believe you could choose a poor maiden, when you were betrothed to the daughter of a Duke.’
‘Arianna *is* beautiful, *and* rich. Our marriage would bring my parents much happiness. But it wouldn’t bring me any. I don’t love her, Beth. It’s you I want.’
Beth smiled at him, and pulled his face down to hers for a sweet, soft kiss.
‘Angel, love, I must visit my mother.’
‘And tell her you are leaving?’
‘Leaving?’
‘You want to go, darling. I don’t see any reason to delay.’
‘So soon? But without me what will Mother do? And what about Bessy?’
‘Bethany, Bessy can take care of herself and your mother. She’s been doing a very good job of it these past few days when you’ve been staying with me. She will be fine, they both will.’
‘Oh, I’d love to leave with you, Angel. I’ll tell her.’
As she left, Bethany kissed her lover, and for the last time Angel felt her lips against his.
When Bethany didn’t return that night, he went to find her. But her mother refused him access to the house, despite his pleadings. Confused and dispirited, he turned to go, when Bessy called to him from her window.
‘Angel,’ she called softly. He turned to face her.
‘Bessy, what’s wrong? Why won’t-’
‘We don’t have time for that, Angel. She can’t ever see you again. This is for you.’ She tossed down a small white envelope. It was strangely heavy. Message delivered, Bessy closed the widow and pulled the curtains.
Feeling nervous, Angel tore open the envelope. A silver ring fell out, clattering onto the cobblestones. He knew what it was before he picked it up. Bethany’s wedding ring. He unfolded the single sheet of paper and scanned the letter quickly. It was brief.
‘Angel. I’m sorry, but this is for the best, and don’t ask me to explain why. I can never see you again. I don’t love you anymore. You should marry Arianna and be happy.’
It was unsigned. Angel stared at it in disbelief. The in a fit of rage he screwed it up and tossed it into the gutter. Reject him, would she? He had no reason to feel worried. He was glad to be rid of her, so that he could finally marry Arianna. Beth was right, Arianna was the woman he was destined to marry.
Too blinded by anger to think straight, Angelus turned and stormed off. Heading straight in to an encounter that was to change the rest of his life, as he crashed into a beautiful young blonde girl, who was to offer him eternal life, and eternal anguish.
* * *
Angelus shook his head, returning his thoughts to the present. There would be no benefit in relieving those painful memories. Then he saw her, and all at once his doubts fell away. It was her, it had to be. She was returned to him once more.
He watched the Slayer, fascinated, as she methodically cleansed the world of the scum of vampires. Angelus himself admitted that most vampires deserved to die, too stupid to keep themselves alive, or to disguise their kills. The latest batches of vampires Spike and Dru insisted on making were even worse, having developed a mindless urge for violence that made them easy prey for the Slayer as they never bothered to be careful in their kills. Angelus sighed as Buffy staked the last one, strangely grateful that a few more of those pathetic excuses for creatures of darkness were out of the way.
Buffy sat down on a gravestone, then bent and absentmindedly ran her hand over the engraving. She smiled at the texture of the stone under her hand, and a fierce longing sprang up in Angelus’ breast. < I have to talk to her > he realised. < I have to make her understand >
He knew Buffy was highly unlikely to give him a chance to explain before she staked him, so he settled on a safer course of action. Kidnapping. Of course, when he let her go she’d most probably be very annoyed and that did not bode well for his continued existence, but if she was who he thought she was... it was his chance to atone for the one act that had provoked unceasing guilt in him, demon *and* soul.
* * *
Angelus stalked the streets of his town, savouring the sensations of this new existence. He was gorged on blood; he had a very large family, and by the time he killed the last he was too full to even take a sip. Instead, Darla had drunk the blood of Annie, his youngest sister.
Now, although he was no longer physically hungry, his taste for violence had not yet abated, and so Angelus was about to make his neighbours rue the day they’d ever celebrated his birth.
With Darla at his side he killed every man woman and child in that town, sparing none, not even the new-born son of the blacksmith and his wife.
Finally his rampage was ended, and he followed Darla’s advice, piling the bodies high in the town square to set them ablaze.
As he stepped back from the impromptu funeral parlour he heard a startled gasp, and turned to see a young woman cowering before him. She raised her head, and he growled in recognition.
‘A-Angel?’ she asked, shivering with fear. ‘
You need not fear me, love,’ he told her, his mouth curving into a wicked smile, revealing his fangs. She stared in horror.
‘A demon!’ she cried, as he advanced on her. ‘What did you do to my husband?’
‘Husband?’ Angelus mocked her. ‘You renounced our marriage. Besides, I have a new lover now.’ He gestured to where Darla was watching him with appreciation.
‘She’s shown me a wonderful new world, love. And I like this world.’
He advanced on her, easily grasping her by the neck and lifting her up so her feet were above the ground.
‘A-An...’ she choked out, having difficulty breathing through his grip.
Angel smiled at her, then bent to her neck, and pierced her vein with his fangs. The blood flowed into his mouth, rich and warm, and he allowed it to trickle down his skin, and her neck, coating them both in her life's-blood. She stared at him in shock as she felt her traitorous heart pump her blood into his mouth. She took a last gurgling breath, and the he felt her go limp as the life left her body.
He dropped her to the ground, noticing something tucked into her shawl. He pulled at it; it was her engraving of the cat-bird. He flashed back suddenly to the last conversation he'd had with her, and what she’d said about the image. ‘The feline part is to symbolise the undefeatable power of our love, as strong as the lion,’ she’d said.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he swiped it off with the back of his hand, noting to his horror that his tears were stained with blood. Her blood. Guilt overwhelmed him, and the world went black.
When he woke, he found Darla kneeling over him.
‘Too much blood,’ she diagnosed, smiling at him. ‘Let me help you to my home. It’s not permanent, but we need to take shelter before the sun rises.’
He knew with certainty that if he admitted his guilty feelings, she’d kill him. She had no mercy, and he had already gathered that all vampires were like her. If he felt something for the creatures she referred to only as prey, he would prove himself to be inadequate, and she would have to kill him.
He tucked the engraving into his jacket, and followed her out of the town without a backward glance to the bloodied corpse of the woman he had just killed, although his thoughts would not leave her as easily as his body did.
Angelus made a vow to himself to become the most vicious vampire ever, and completely bury his feelings, a task at which he proved very adept. Over time he became know as the most amoral, uncaring, heartless, merciless and above all savage vampire currently alive. Vampires he’d never met before recognised him on sight and fled in terror. Females longed to become his consort, and there was a long stream of them after he left Darla behind one night.
But none had touched his heart in the two hundred and forty years of his existence, man and monster. Except for Bethany... and Buffy.
* * *
Angelus suddenly became aware that Buffy was walking past him, within touching distance. All thought fled his mind and he acted on pure instinct, leaping on her, tackling her to the ground, and slashing at her neck with his fangs.
He dimly heard her scream in pain as he savaged her neck, but then her blood was filling his mouth, just like Bethany’s, and he was filled with power. Conversely, as he became stronger Buffy weakened, until he was able to release her in order to stand up without worrying about her attempting to escape. She simply lay there, unable to move, drained of all energy. Angel scooped her up and carried her gently to his apartment.
Buffy gradually became conscious. First she regained use of her eyes. The power of rational thought quickly followed, needed to analyse her surroundings. she recognised. Next came feeling in her body, whereupon she found out she was in trouble. She could feel something binding her hands and feet to the bed, and by craning her neck she was able to discover that this was done with several lengths of velvet rope.
Her mind devoted a few seconds idle speculation as to why Angel had velvet ropes, and why he’d used them instead of something rougher, or stronger. But that was fairly irrelevant as she couldn’t muster enough strength to break the bonds, even if she had only been tied with strips of paper. The horrible reality that she was bound and helpless and Angelus’ captive penetrated her mind and she groaned.
‘Awake?’ a tender voice asked.
her mind questioned.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ the voice continued.
she assessed.
‘Buffy, I know,’ he told her gently. ‘I know you’re Bethany.’
Buffy was utterly confused. she thought, unable to voice the thought due to the dry painfulness of her throat which was preventing her from using it for fear of inducing more agony. But she had to admit, he’d tied her in a very comfortable position, and he was being... well, *nice*. Angelus was treating her like Angel used to, well, except for the ropes.
‘All those times I kept on killing you,’ he said, his voice filled with remorse. ‘And I never knew until it was too late. The woman I drained in China in 1856; I saw her face when I’d finished and it was you. The woman I tripped up accidentally so she fell into the path of a passing Hansom cab in London was you. Seeing your perfect face on top of that mangled body... oh God! It happened so many times, I kept on killing you and I never meant to! I just wanted you back. And now I finally have my chance.’
Buffy was getting more and more out of her depth by the minute.
He noticed her discomfort, mistaking it for physical rather than mental, and affectionately raised her head with one arm, while the other brought a glass of ice-water to her lips. She sipped slowly at the water, feeling it side down her throat. Finally she was able to talk again.
‘Angel, I... I don’t know what you think... *who* you think I am. But I’m not your ex-girlfriend, or whatever. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and you’ve never killed me. I’ve never lived in London or China, and what is a Hansom cab anyway?’
‘There’s no mistake, Buffy. You are Bethany, and you can’t deny it.’
‘You're crazy. You have no proof, Angel. Maybe you just loved this woman, and felt guilty for killing her, which you undoubtedly did from the expression on your face. Maybe that guilt made you think other women were her, I don’t know why. I’m sure there’s a psychological term for it. But I’m not her.’
‘If you aren’t Bethany, then explain *this*!’ Angel ripped his shirt off, and Buffy had a split-second to remember how god-like his body was before he turned around.
‘Angel!’ she cried, wincing in sympathy. She’d seen his tattoo before, but that time it had been simply a black ink drawing. Now it looked painfully sore. Every line was raised, and his entire back was red and raw. At some points the skin was so twisted it had cracked open, and some of the lines were obscured by dried blood.
‘This happens every time I meet you again, Bethany. It reacts to you. It took me a while to figure out there was a connection.’
‘I don’t get it....’ Buffy murmured.
‘You don’t recognise it? It’s your engraving, Bethany. You were carrying it when I killed you. I had it tattooed onto my back so I’d never forget you. And it always lets me know me when you’re near.’
‘But I’m not Bethany, Angel! Why won’t you see that! I wish I could say I was, because then maybe you’d feel better, but you’re wrong. I am not Bethany, I never have been. I’m sorry, A-’
Buffy broke of as a strange feeling of wooziness hit her. Her eyelids felt *so* heavy. When she opened them again, something was wrong. Buffy quickly understood what had happened; she’d experienced this feeling of not being in control of her own body once before at Halloween.
a soft voice said. Buffy immediately felt reassured. < I just need to borrow your body for a while. There’s something I’ve waited two centuries to do >
Angelus saw the change in Buffy’s eyes the second they opened. The fear, overshadowed by a quiet determination not to succumb to him that were always present in Buffy’s eyes when she looked at him were gone, replaced by such pure love that he was overwhelmed.
‘Bethany?’
‘Angel. It’s me. Untie me, please.’ Angelus hastened to comply, helping her to sit up.
‘Bethany, I-’
‘Shh. I know everything you want to say to me, and I don’t have much time. I’ve tried so many times before to tell you, but something always stopped me. Angel, I can’t leave this earth and move on to Heaven or whatever's waiting for me until I tie up my loose ends, so to speak. You’ve spent your whole life being tormented by the guilt of my death, and your remorse has kept me trapped here. Angel, I need you to understand that I forgive you, and I need you to let the pain go. But more importantly, I have to make sure you don’t make a horrible mistake. You love Buffy, more than you loved me even. I’m not jealous; I understand. She’s your destiny. Promise me you won’t kill her, Angel. Otherwise you will never be happy again.’
‘But Bethany... I want you.’
‘No, you don’t. She’s the one you love now. You stopped loving me a long time ago; the only thing you feel about me now is guilt. Let it go, Angel, but don’t make the same mistake with her that you did with me. Don't lose her, Angel, you need her more than you realise.’
‘I... She doesn’t want me anymore. Not after what I did.’
‘But you can atone.’
Angel suddenly received a clear mental image of Buffy standing over him holding a glowing orb.
‘Let her bring my soul back?’
‘You were willing to do anything to bring me back, Angel. She’s worth every bit as much as I was. But you can only love her properly with your soul.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Angel said, unsure why he was agreeing to voluntarily return himself to his soul-burdened state, but filled with an undeniable feeling of *rightness*.
‘Good. I forgive you, Angel, never forget that.’
Buffy’s eyes closed and she became limp in his arms. A few minutes later her beautiful brown eyes reopened, and she blinked at him.
‘Angel?’
‘Soon, love. We have a re-cursing to do.’
‘What?’
‘I made a promise to Bethany, and I intend to keep it. We need to find the curse again. Ms Calendar was working on it when I...’ his brown eyes darkened. ‘I’ll do anything to make that up to you, Buffy. That and everything else I’ve done.’
Buffy faded back into unconsciousness, but he managed to catch her last words.
‘All you need to do is love me.’
* * *
When Willow walked into the computer room the next morning, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Then she saw the bright yellow disk on top of her lesson plans. Underneath it was a note.
‘Hi, guys. I know you probably won’t be able to understand, especially Xander and Giles, but I’ve left. The disk holds a copy of the Spell of Restoration. Jenny was working on it. We found it last night, and Angelus agreed to let me perform it on him.... don’t ask! Anyway, I’ve got my Angel back, plus soul, and I have to admit that I can’t hate him for what the demon did. But I know you guys won’t be able to stand seeing him, and I had a choice to make. I came to the decision that Angel is more important to me than anything else in the world, so it seems that the only choice is for us to leave. Please make sure my mom is okay and explain... well, some of it. I’m sure Kendra can handle things, so I don’t feel guilty about leaving. Wherever we end up, I’ll still do my bit to rid the world of evil. Maybe someday I’ll be able to return, but for the moment all I can think about is being with my Angel. He’ll take care of me. Sorry for all we’ve hurt you.
Love, Buffy.’
Willow gasped, and fell into the chair.
‘She’s.... gone?’ she whispered to the empty room shakily. ‘Oh god, she’s really gone.’
* * *
‘Buffy?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I... I just wondered... that is, uh...’
‘What?’ Buffy sat up in her seat, staring curiously at Angel.
‘I... Will you marry me?’ he asked, rushed, already preparing for her rejection. It was too soon, it had only been a week since they’d left Sunnydale...
‘Yes, Angel,’ she replied, placing a finger on his lips to silence his confusion. ‘Of course I will.’ Buffy smiled warmly at him, and he drew her into his arms for a kiss.
Buffy slipped her hands under his shirt, and her probing fingers encountered only smooth flesh. She tugged at his shoulder to get him to twist around, and pulled up his shirt.
‘Angel,’ she breathed. ‘It’s gone.’ There was no sign that the tattoo had ever been there; Angel’s entire back was smooth and unblemished.
‘I guess there’s no need to force yourself to remember Bethany anymore,’ Buffy told him, smiling.
He swept her into his arms and planted his mouth fully on hers, his ability to think coherently fading rapidly, and she shifted in his hold, pressing her warm body against his ice-cold one.
And Bethany’s tormented ghost was finally able to leave for the afterlife... whatever it was.
the end How Angel Got His Tattoo, or, A Love That Will Never Die
‘Who rattled his cage?’
Angelus turned at the sound of Spike’s voice as he wheeled into the dining room. Drusilla was sitting at the head of the table, playing with Miss Edith and another doll that appeared to be lacking a head.
‘He hasn’t launched into a melodramatic soliloquy about ridding the world of the Slayer or insulted my lack of mobility all day.’
Spike wheeled up to Drusilla, who crooned in delight as he stroked her cheek.
Throwing caution to the wind, Spike continued. ‘And he hasn’t been paying nearly enough attention to you, has he pet?’
Drusilla peered at him, her eyes filling with blood-tinged tears. ‘My Angel doesn’t want to play,’ she whined, dropping the headless doll.
‘Spikey does, though,’ Spike told her, patting his lap. He chanced a glance at Angelus, and saw to his disappointment that the elder vampire wasn’t paying the slightest attention to Spike and Dru. Spike thought, mildly annoyed.
‘We’ll just be going up to my room, Angelus,’ Spike commented loudly. It failed to get a reaction.
‘Dru and I are going. Together.’ Still Angel remained silent.
‘Bloody hell, mate. What’s got you in such a bad mood?’
Angel lifted his head, and actually *sighed*. Angelus, destroyer of humanity, ravager of cities and innocent virgins, was sighing like a lovesick mortal. Shaking his head, Spike left his sire to it, guiding his chair over to the corridor leading to his room.
As soon as they were gone, Angelus stood up, unable to remain still any longer. He headed to the door, entering the twilight world of Sunnydale just after sunset, his walk purposeful, his aim clear. He had to see her. He had to know once and for all. And he had to end the cycle.
* * *
‘Darling, come and tell me what you think of this.’
Angelus dropped the book he was reading and rose from the armchair by the fire.
‘What is it, Beth?’ he asked, peering over the shoulder of the woman he loved to gaze at her work.
It was a beautiful engraving of a mysterious creature. At first sight the immense feathery wings identified it as a bird. But then his attention was drawn to the cat-like head and paws. He could see the claws emerging from the visible feet. It was perched on a stand in the shape of the letter A.
‘A for Amoral?’ he teased gently. ‘Or Adultery, or Aggravation, or Abjured? Those are all words my family have used to describe our,’ he lifted her hand and kissed the Claddagh ring adorning her wedding finger, ‘union.’
‘I hate to come between you and your family like this, Angel. I hate to think that because of me your family have disowned you.’
‘That’s unimportant, love. We are together, and as soon as Father and Mother accept that everything shall be put right.’
‘And if they don’t?’
‘Then we shall simply have to manage without their money. We can do it, love. With your talent...’
‘And your connections.’
‘Yes. There are many people out there dying for work like this. With this style, and detail. For books, or signs, or paintings, even gravestones.’
‘Angel, don’t be morbid!’
‘Everybody dies, Beth. We may as well ensure they do so with a beautiful gravestone to mark their final resting place.’
Bethany sighed at him melodramatically. ‘The A stands for Angelus,’ she explained. ‘The feline part is to symbolise the undefeatable power of our love, as strong as the lion you read to me about. The wings are to show that you give me the power to fly.’
‘Love, you flatter me too much. I don’t deserve you.’
‘Angel, can we leave here? I don’t want to stay here with everyone staring at me, and whispering behind my back. They say that it is a sin to be together when we are not married.’
‘But we are, this ring is proof of that.’
‘Yes, but Father Michael would not marry us, and our union is not blessed by God.’
‘It has been blessed by a higher power than God.’
‘Higher than God? But that is blasphemy, nothing is higher than God.’
‘True love is, Beth. Not even God can forbid our love.’
‘Oh, Angel. I still can’t believe you could choose a poor maiden, when you were betrothed to the daughter of a Duke.’
‘Arianna *is* beautiful, *and* rich. Our marriage would bring my parents much happiness. But it wouldn’t bring me any. I don’t love her, Beth. It’s you I want.’
Beth smiled at him, and pulled his face down to hers for a sweet, soft kiss.
‘Angel, love, I must visit my mother.’
‘And tell her you are leaving?’
‘Leaving?’
‘You want to go, darling. I don’t see any reason to delay.’
‘So soon? But without me what will Mother do? And what about Bessy?’
‘Bethany, Bessy can take care of herself and your mother. She’s been doing a very good job of it these past few days when you’ve been staying with me. She will be fine, they both will.’
‘Oh, I’d love to leave with you, Angel. I’ll tell her.’
As she left, Bethany kissed her lover, and for the last time Angel felt her lips against his.
When Bethany didn’t return that night, he went to find her. But her mother refused him access to the house, despite his pleadings. Confused and dispirited, he turned to go, when Bessy called to him from her window.
‘Angel,’ she called softly. He turned to face her.
‘Bessy, what’s wrong? Why won’t-’
‘We don’t have time for that, Angel. She can’t ever see you again. This is for you.’ She tossed down a small white envelope. It was strangely heavy. Message delivered, Bessy closed the widow and pulled the curtains.
Feeling nervous, Angel tore open the envelope. A silver ring fell out, clattering onto the cobblestones. He knew what it was before he picked it up. Bethany’s wedding ring. He unfolded the single sheet of paper and scanned the letter quickly. It was brief.
‘Angel. I’m sorry, but this is for the best, and don’t ask me to explain why. I can never see you again. I don’t love you anymore. You should marry Arianna and be happy.’
It was unsigned. Angel stared at it in disbelief. The in a fit of rage he screwed it up and tossed it into the gutter. Reject him, would she? He had no reason to feel worried. He was glad to be rid of her, so that he could finally marry Arianna. Beth was right, Arianna was the woman he was destined to marry.
Too blinded by anger to think straight, Angelus turned and stormed off. Heading straight in to an encounter that was to change the rest of his life, as he crashed into a beautiful young blonde girl, who was to offer him eternal life, and eternal anguish.
* * *
Angelus shook his head, returning his thoughts to the present. There would be no benefit in relieving those painful memories. Then he saw her, and all at once his doubts fell away. It was her, it had to be. She was returned to him once more.
He watched the Slayer, fascinated, as she methodically cleansed the world of the scum of vampires. Angelus himself admitted that most vampires deserved to die, too stupid to keep themselves alive, or to disguise their kills. The latest batches of vampires Spike and Dru insisted on making were even worse, having developed a mindless urge for violence that made them easy prey for the Slayer as they never bothered to be careful in their kills. Angelus sighed as Buffy staked the last one, strangely grateful that a few more of those pathetic excuses for creatures of darkness were out of the way.
Buffy sat down on a gravestone, then bent and absentmindedly ran her hand over the engraving. She smiled at the texture of the stone under her hand, and a fierce longing sprang up in Angelus’ breast. < I have to talk to her > he realised. < I have to make her understand >
He knew Buffy was highly unlikely to give him a chance to explain before she staked him, so he settled on a safer course of action. Kidnapping. Of course, when he let her go she’d most probably be very annoyed and that did not bode well for his continued existence, but if she was who he thought she was... it was his chance to atone for the one act that had provoked unceasing guilt in him, demon *and* soul.
* * *
Angelus stalked the streets of his town, savouring the sensations of this new existence. He was gorged on blood; he had a very large family, and by the time he killed the last he was too full to even take a sip. Instead, Darla had drunk the blood of Annie, his youngest sister.
Now, although he was no longer physically hungry, his taste for violence had not yet abated, and so Angelus was about to make his neighbours rue the day they’d ever celebrated his birth.
With Darla at his side he killed every man woman and child in that town, sparing none, not even the new-born son of the blacksmith and his wife.
Finally his rampage was ended, and he followed Darla’s advice, piling the bodies high in the town square to set them ablaze.
As he stepped back from the impromptu funeral parlour he heard a startled gasp, and turned to see a young woman cowering before him. She raised her head, and he growled in recognition.
‘A-Angel?’ she asked, shivering with fear. ‘
You need not fear me, love,’ he told her, his mouth curving into a wicked smile, revealing his fangs. She stared in horror.
‘A demon!’ she cried, as he advanced on her. ‘What did you do to my husband?’
‘Husband?’ Angelus mocked her. ‘You renounced our marriage. Besides, I have a new lover now.’ He gestured to where Darla was watching him with appreciation.
‘She’s shown me a wonderful new world, love. And I like this world.’
He advanced on her, easily grasping her by the neck and lifting her up so her feet were above the ground.
‘A-An...’ she choked out, having difficulty breathing through his grip.
Angel smiled at her, then bent to her neck, and pierced her vein with his fangs. The blood flowed into his mouth, rich and warm, and he allowed it to trickle down his skin, and her neck, coating them both in her life's-blood. She stared at him in shock as she felt her traitorous heart pump her blood into his mouth. She took a last gurgling breath, and the he felt her go limp as the life left her body.
He dropped her to the ground, noticing something tucked into her shawl. He pulled at it; it was her engraving of the cat-bird. He flashed back suddenly to the last conversation he'd had with her, and what she’d said about the image. ‘The feline part is to symbolise the undefeatable power of our love, as strong as the lion,’ she’d said.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he swiped it off with the back of his hand, noting to his horror that his tears were stained with blood. Her blood. Guilt overwhelmed him, and the world went black.
When he woke, he found Darla kneeling over him.
‘Too much blood,’ she diagnosed, smiling at him. ‘Let me help you to my home. It’s not permanent, but we need to take shelter before the sun rises.’
He knew with certainty that if he admitted his guilty feelings, she’d kill him. She had no mercy, and he had already gathered that all vampires were like her. If he felt something for the creatures she referred to only as prey, he would prove himself to be inadequate, and she would have to kill him.
He tucked the engraving into his jacket, and followed her out of the town without a backward glance to the bloodied corpse of the woman he had just killed, although his thoughts would not leave her as easily as his body did.
Angelus made a vow to himself to become the most vicious vampire ever, and completely bury his feelings, a task at which he proved very adept. Over time he became know as the most amoral, uncaring, heartless, merciless and above all savage vampire currently alive. Vampires he’d never met before recognised him on sight and fled in terror. Females longed to become his consort, and there was a long stream of them after he left Darla behind one night.
But none had touched his heart in the two hundred and forty years of his existence, man and monster. Except for Bethany... and Buffy.
* * *
Angelus suddenly became aware that Buffy was walking past him, within touching distance. All thought fled his mind and he acted on pure instinct, leaping on her, tackling her to the ground, and slashing at her neck with his fangs.
He dimly heard her scream in pain as he savaged her neck, but then her blood was filling his mouth, just like Bethany’s, and he was filled with power. Conversely, as he became stronger Buffy weakened, until he was able to release her in order to stand up without worrying about her attempting to escape. She simply lay there, unable to move, drained of all energy. Angel scooped her up and carried her gently to his apartment.
Buffy gradually became conscious. First she regained use of her eyes. The power of rational thought quickly followed, needed to analyse her surroundings. she recognised. Next came feeling in her body, whereupon she found out she was in trouble. She could feel something binding her hands and feet to the bed, and by craning her neck she was able to discover that this was done with several lengths of velvet rope.
Her mind devoted a few seconds idle speculation as to why Angel had velvet ropes, and why he’d used them instead of something rougher, or stronger. But that was fairly irrelevant as she couldn’t muster enough strength to break the bonds, even if she had only been tied with strips of paper. The horrible reality that she was bound and helpless and Angelus’ captive penetrated her mind and she groaned.
‘Awake?’ a tender voice asked.
her mind questioned.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ the voice continued.
she assessed.
‘Buffy, I know,’ he told her gently. ‘I know you’re Bethany.’
Buffy was utterly confused. she thought, unable to voice the thought due to the dry painfulness of her throat which was preventing her from using it for fear of inducing more agony. But she had to admit, he’d tied her in a very comfortable position, and he was being... well, *nice*. Angelus was treating her like Angel used to, well, except for the ropes.
‘All those times I kept on killing you,’ he said, his voice filled with remorse. ‘And I never knew until it was too late. The woman I drained in China in 1856; I saw her face when I’d finished and it was you. The woman I tripped up accidentally so she fell into the path of a passing Hansom cab in London was you. Seeing your perfect face on top of that mangled body... oh God! It happened so many times, I kept on killing you and I never meant to! I just wanted you back. And now I finally have my chance.’
Buffy was getting more and more out of her depth by the minute.
He noticed her discomfort, mistaking it for physical rather than mental, and affectionately raised her head with one arm, while the other brought a glass of ice-water to her lips. She sipped slowly at the water, feeling it side down her throat. Finally she was able to talk again.
‘Angel, I... I don’t know what you think... *who* you think I am. But I’m not your ex-girlfriend, or whatever. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and you’ve never killed me. I’ve never lived in London or China, and what is a Hansom cab anyway?’
‘There’s no mistake, Buffy. You are Bethany, and you can’t deny it.’
‘You're crazy. You have no proof, Angel. Maybe you just loved this woman, and felt guilty for killing her, which you undoubtedly did from the expression on your face. Maybe that guilt made you think other women were her, I don’t know why. I’m sure there’s a psychological term for it. But I’m not her.’
‘If you aren’t Bethany, then explain *this*!’ Angel ripped his shirt off, and Buffy had a split-second to remember how god-like his body was before he turned around.
‘Angel!’ she cried, wincing in sympathy. She’d seen his tattoo before, but that time it had been simply a black ink drawing. Now it looked painfully sore. Every line was raised, and his entire back was red and raw. At some points the skin was so twisted it had cracked open, and some of the lines were obscured by dried blood.
‘This happens every time I meet you again, Bethany. It reacts to you. It took me a while to figure out there was a connection.’
‘I don’t get it....’ Buffy murmured.
‘You don’t recognise it? It’s your engraving, Bethany. You were carrying it when I killed you. I had it tattooed onto my back so I’d never forget you. And it always lets me know me when you’re near.’
‘But I’m not Bethany, Angel! Why won’t you see that! I wish I could say I was, because then maybe you’d feel better, but you’re wrong. I am not Bethany, I never have been. I’m sorry, A-’
Buffy broke of as a strange feeling of wooziness hit her. Her eyelids felt *so* heavy. When she opened them again, something was wrong. Buffy quickly understood what had happened; she’d experienced this feeling of not being in control of her own body once before at Halloween.
a soft voice said. Buffy immediately felt reassured. < I just need to borrow your body for a while. There’s something I’ve waited two centuries to do >
Angelus saw the change in Buffy’s eyes the second they opened. The fear, overshadowed by a quiet determination not to succumb to him that were always present in Buffy’s eyes when she looked at him were gone, replaced by such pure love that he was overwhelmed.
‘Bethany?’
‘Angel. It’s me. Untie me, please.’ Angelus hastened to comply, helping her to sit up.
‘Bethany, I-’
‘Shh. I know everything you want to say to me, and I don’t have much time. I’ve tried so many times before to tell you, but something always stopped me. Angel, I can’t leave this earth and move on to Heaven or whatever's waiting for me until I tie up my loose ends, so to speak. You’ve spent your whole life being tormented by the guilt of my death, and your remorse has kept me trapped here. Angel, I need you to understand that I forgive you, and I need you to let the pain go. But more importantly, I have to make sure you don’t make a horrible mistake. You love Buffy, more than you loved me even. I’m not jealous; I understand. She’s your destiny. Promise me you won’t kill her, Angel. Otherwise you will never be happy again.’
‘But Bethany... I want you.’
‘No, you don’t. She’s the one you love now. You stopped loving me a long time ago; the only thing you feel about me now is guilt. Let it go, Angel, but don’t make the same mistake with her that you did with me. Don't lose her, Angel, you need her more than you realise.’
‘I... She doesn’t want me anymore. Not after what I did.’
‘But you can atone.’
Angel suddenly received a clear mental image of Buffy standing over him holding a glowing orb.
‘Let her bring my soul back?’
‘You were willing to do anything to bring me back, Angel. She’s worth every bit as much as I was. But you can only love her properly with your soul.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Angel said, unsure why he was agreeing to voluntarily return himself to his soul-burdened state, but filled with an undeniable feeling of *rightness*.
‘Good. I forgive you, Angel, never forget that.’
Buffy’s eyes closed and she became limp in his arms. A few minutes later her beautiful brown eyes reopened, and she blinked at him.
‘Angel?’
‘Soon, love. We have a re-cursing to do.’
‘What?’
‘I made a promise to Bethany, and I intend to keep it. We need to find the curse again. Ms Calendar was working on it when I...’ his brown eyes darkened. ‘I’ll do anything to make that up to you, Buffy. That and everything else I’ve done.’
Buffy faded back into unconsciousness, but he managed to catch her last words.
‘All you need to do is love me.’
* * *
When Willow walked into the computer room the next morning, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Then she saw the bright yellow disk on top of her lesson plans. Underneath it was a note.
‘Hi, guys. I know you probably won’t be able to understand, especially Xander and Giles, but I’ve left. The disk holds a copy of the Spell of Restoration. Jenny was working on it. We found it last night, and Angelus agreed to let me perform it on him.... don’t ask! Anyway, I’ve got my Angel back, plus soul, and I have to admit that I can’t hate him for what the demon did. But I know you guys won’t be able to stand seeing him, and I had a choice to make. I came to the decision that Angel is more important to me than anything else in the world, so it seems that the only choice is for us to leave. Please make sure my mom is okay and explain... well, some of it. I’m sure Kendra can handle things, so I don’t feel guilty about leaving. Wherever we end up, I’ll still do my bit to rid the world of evil. Maybe someday I’ll be able to return, but for the moment all I can think about is being with my Angel. He’ll take care of me. Sorry for all we’ve hurt you.
Love, Buffy.’
Willow gasped, and fell into the chair.
‘She’s.... gone?’ she whispered to the empty room shakily. ‘Oh god, she’s really gone.’
* * *
‘Buffy?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I... I just wondered... that is, uh...’
‘What?’ Buffy sat up in her seat, staring curiously at Angel.
‘I... Will you marry me?’ he asked, rushed, already preparing for her rejection. It was too soon, it had only been a week since they’d left Sunnydale...
‘Yes, Angel,’ she replied, placing a finger on his lips to silence his confusion. ‘Of course I will.’ Buffy smiled warmly at him, and he drew her into his arms for a kiss.
Buffy slipped her hands under his shirt, and her probing fingers encountered only smooth flesh. She tugged at his shoulder to get him to twist around, and pulled up his shirt.
‘Angel,’ she breathed. ‘It’s gone.’ There was no sign that the tattoo had ever been there; Angel’s entire back was smooth and unblemished.
‘I guess there’s no need to force yourself to remember Bethany anymore,’ Buffy told him, smiling.
He swept her into his arms and planted his mouth fully on hers, his ability to think coherently fading rapidly, and she shifted in his hold, pressing her warm body against his ice-cold one.
And Bethany’s tormented ghost was finally able to leave for the afterlife... whatever it was.
the end How Angel Got His Tattoo, or, A Love That Will Never Die
‘Who rattled his cage?’
Angelus turned at the sound of Spike’s voice as he wheeled into the dining room. Drusilla was sitting at the head of the table, playing with Miss Edith and another doll that appeared to be lacking a head.
‘He hasn’t launched into a melodramatic soliloquy about ridding the world of the Slayer or insulted my lack of mobility all day.’
Spike wheeled up to Drusilla, who crooned in delight as he stroked her cheek.
Throwing caution to the wind, Spike continued. ‘And he hasn’t been paying nearly enough attention to you, has he pet?’
Drusilla peered at him, her eyes filling with blood-tinged tears. ‘My Angel doesn’t want to play,’ she whined, dropping the headless doll.
‘Spikey does, though,’ Spike told her, patting his lap. He chanced a glance at Angelus, and saw to his disappointment that the elder vampire wasn’t paying the slightest attention to Spike and Dru. Spike thought, mildly annoyed.
‘We’ll just be going up to my room, Angelus,’ Spike commented loudly. It failed to get a reaction.
‘Dru and I are going. Together.’ Still Angel remained silent.
‘Bloody hell, mate. What’s got you in such a bad mood?’
Angel lifted his head, and actually *sighed*. Angelus, destroyer of humanity, ravager of cities and innocent virgins, was sighing like a lovesick mortal. Shaking his head, Spike left his sire to it, guiding his chair over to the corridor leading to his room.
As soon as they were gone, Angelus stood up, unable to remain still any longer. He headed to the door, entering the twilight world of Sunnydale just after sunset, his walk purposeful, his aim clear. He had to see her. He had to know once and for all. And he had to end the cycle.
* * *
‘Darling, come and tell me what you think of this.’
Angelus dropped the book he was reading and rose from the armchair by the fire.
‘What is it, Beth?’ he asked, peering over the shoulder of the woman he loved to gaze at her work.
It was a beautiful engraving of a mysterious creature. At first sight the immense feathery wings identified it as a bird. But then his attention was drawn to the cat-like head and paws. He could see the claws emerging from the visible feet. It was perched on a stand in the shape of the letter A.
‘A for Amoral?’ he teased gently. ‘Or Adultery, or Aggravation, or Abjured? Those are all words my family have used to describe our,’ he lifted her hand and kissed the Claddagh ring adorning her wedding finger, ‘union.’
‘I hate to come between you and your family like this, Angel. I hate to think that because of me your family have disowned you.’
‘That’s unimportant, love. We are together, and as soon as Father and Mother accept that everything shall be put right.’
‘And if they don’t?’
‘Then we shall simply have to manage without their money. We can do it, love. With your talent...’
‘And your connections.’
‘Yes. There are many people out there dying for work like this. With this style, and detail. For books, or signs, or paintings, even gravestones.’
‘Angel, don’t be morbid!’
‘Everybody dies, Beth. We may as well ensure they do so with a beautiful gravestone to mark their final resting place.’
Bethany sighed at him melodramatically. ‘The A stands for Angelus,’ she explained. ‘The feline part is to symbolise the undefeatable power of our love, as strong as the lion you read to me about. The wings are to show that you give me the power to fly.’
‘Love, you flatter me too much. I don’t deserve you.’
‘Angel, can we leave here? I don’t want to stay here with everyone staring at me, and whispering behind my back. They say that it is a sin to be together when we are not married.’
‘But we are, this ring is proof of that.’
‘Yes, but Father Michael would not marry us, and our union is not blessed by God.’
‘It has been blessed by a higher power than God.’
‘Higher than God? But that is blasphemy, nothing is higher than God.’
‘True love is, Beth. Not even God can forbid our love.’
‘Oh, Angel. I still can’t believe you could choose a poor maiden, when you were betrothed to the daughter of a Duke.’
‘Arianna *is* beautiful, *and* rich. Our marriage would bring my parents much happiness. But it wouldn’t bring me any. I don’t love her, Beth. It’s you I want.’
Beth smiled at him, and pulled his face down to hers for a sweet, soft kiss.
‘Angel, love, I must visit my mother.’
‘And tell her you are leaving?’
‘Leaving?’
‘You want to go, darling. I don’t see any reason to delay.’
‘So soon? But without me what will Mother do? And what about Bessy?’
‘Bethany, Bessy can take care of herself and your mother. She’s been doing a very good job of it these past few days when you’ve been staying with me. She will be fine, they both will.’
‘Oh, I’d love to leave with you, Angel. I’ll tell her.’
As she left, Bethany kissed her lover, and for the last time Angel felt her lips against his.
When Bethany didn’t return that night, he went to find her. But her mother refused him access to the house, despite his pleadings. Confused and dispirited, he turned to go, when Bessy called to him from her window.
‘Angel,’ she called softly. He turned to face her.
‘Bessy, what’s wrong? Why won’t-’
‘We don’t have time for that, Angel. She can’t ever see you again. This is for you.’ She tossed down a small white envelope. It was strangely heavy. Message delivered, Bessy closed the widow and pulled the curtains.
Feeling nervous, Angel tore open the envelope. A silver ring fell out, clattering onto the cobblestones. He knew what it was before he picked it up. Bethany’s wedding ring. He unfolded the single sheet of paper and scanned the letter quickly. It was brief.
‘Angel. I’m sorry, but this is for the best, and don’t ask me to explain why. I can never see you again. I don’t love you anymore. You should marry Arianna and be happy.’
It was unsigned. Angel stared at it in disbelief. The in a fit of rage he screwed it up and tossed it into the gutter. Reject him, would she? He had no reason to feel worried. He was glad to be rid of her, so that he could finally marry Arianna. Beth was right, Arianna was the woman he was destined to marry.
Too blinded by anger to think straight, Angelus turned and stormed off. Heading straight in to an encounter that was to change the rest of his life, as he crashed into a beautiful young blonde girl, who was to offer him eternal life, and eternal anguish.
* * *
Angelus shook his head, returning his thoughts to the present. There would be no benefit in relieving those painful memories. Then he saw her, and all at once his doubts fell away. It was her, it had to be. She was returned to him once more.
He watched the Slayer, fascinated, as she methodically cleansed the world of the scum of vampires. Angelus himself admitted that most vampires deserved to die, too stupid to keep themselves alive, or to disguise their kills. The latest batches of vampires Spike and Dru insisted on making were even worse, having developed a mindless urge for violence that made them easy prey for the Slayer as they never bothered to be careful in their kills. Angelus sighed as Buffy staked the last one, strangely grateful that a few more of those pathetic excuses for creatures of darkness were out of the way.
Buffy sat down on a gravestone, then bent and absentmindedly ran her hand over the engraving. She smiled at the texture of the stone under her hand, and a fierce longing sprang up in Angelus’ breast. < I have to talk to her > he realised. < I have to make her understand >
He knew Buffy was highly unlikely to give him a chance to explain before she staked him, so he settled on a safer course of action. Kidnapping. Of course, when he let her go she’d most probably be very annoyed and that did not bode well for his continued existence, but if she was who he thought she was... it was his chance to atone for the one act that had provoked unceasing guilt in him, demon *and* soul.
* * *
Angelus stalked the streets of his town, savouring the sensations of this new existence. He was gorged on blood; he had a very large family, and by the time he killed the last he was too full to even take a sip. Instead, Darla had drunk the blood of Annie, his youngest sister.
Now, although he was no longer physically hungry, his taste for violence had not yet abated, and so Angelus was about to make his neighbours rue the day they’d ever celebrated his birth.
* * *
With Darla at his side he killed every man woman and child in that town, sparing none, not even the new-born son of the blacksmith and his wife.
Finally his rampage was ended, and he followed Darla’s advice, piling the bodies high in the town square to set them ablaze.
As he stepped back from the impromptu funeral parlour he heard a startled gasp, and turned to see a young woman cowering before him. She raised her head, and he growled in recognition.
‘A-Angel?’ she asked, shivering with fear. ‘
You need not fear me, love,’ he told her, his mouth curving into a wicked smile, revealing his fangs. She stared in horror.
‘A demon!’ she cried, as he advanced on her. ‘What did you do to my husband?’
‘Husband?’ Angelus mocked her. ‘You renounced our marriage. Besides, I have a new lover now.’ He gestured to where Darla was watching him with appreciation.
‘She’s shown me a wonderful new world, love. And I like this world.’
He advanced on her, easily grasping her by the neck and lifting her up so her feet were above the ground.
‘A-An...’ she choked out, having difficulty breathing through his grip.
Angel smiled at her, then bent to her neck, and pierced her vein with his fangs. The blood flowed into his mouth, rich and warm, and he allowed it to trickle down his skin, and her neck, coating them both in her life's-blood. She stared at him in shock as she felt her traitorous heart pump her blood into his mouth. She took a last gurgling breath, and the he felt her go limp as the life left her body.
He dropped her to the ground, noticing something tucked into her shawl. He pulled at it; it was her engraving of the cat-bird. He flashed back suddenly to the last conversation he'd had with her, and what she’d said about the image. ‘The feline part is to symbolise the undefeatable power of our love, as strong as the lion,’ she’d said.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he swiped it off with the back of his hand, noting to his horror that his tears were stained with blood. Her blood. Guilt overwhelmed him, and the world went black.
When he woke, he found Darla kneeling over him.
‘Too much blood,’ she diagnosed, smiling at him. ‘Let me help you to my home. It’s not permanent, but we need to take shelter before the sun rises.’
He knew with certainty that if he admitted his guilty feelings, she’d kill him. She had no mercy, and he had already gathered that all vampires were like her. If he felt something for the creatures she referred to only as prey, he would prove himself to be inadequate, and she would have to kill him.
He tucked the engraving into his jacket, and followed her out of the town without a backward glance to the bloodied corpse of the woman he had just killed, although his thoughts would not leave her as easily as his body did.
Angelus made a vow to himself to become the most vicious vampire ever, and completely bury his feelings, a task at which he proved very adept. Over time he became know as the most amoral, uncaring, heartless, merciless and above all savage vampire currently alive. Vampires he’d never met before recognised him on sight and fled in terror. Females longed to become his consort, and there was a long stream of them after he left Darla behind one night.
But none had touched his heart in the two hundred and forty years of his existence, man and monster. Except for Bethany... and Buffy.
* * *
Angelus suddenly became aware that Buffy was walking past him, within touching distance. All thought fled his mind and he acted on pure instinct, leaping on her, tackling her to the ground, and slashing at her neck with his fangs.
He dimly heard her scream in pain as he savaged her neck, but then her blood was filling his mouth, just like Bethany’s, and he was filled with power. Conversely, as he became stronger Buffy weakened, until he was able to release her in order to stand up without worrying about her attempting to escape. She simply lay there, unable to move, drained of all energy. Angel scooped her up and carried her gently to his apartment.
Buffy gradually became conscious. First she regained use of her eyes. The power of rational thought quickly followed, needed to analyse her surroundings. she recognised. Next came feeling in her body, whereupon she found out she was in trouble. She could feel something binding her hands and feet to the bed, and by craning her neck she was able to discover that this was done with several lengths of velvet rope.
Her mind devoted a few seconds idle speculation as to why Angel had velvet ropes, and why he’d used them instead of something rougher, or stronger. But that was fairly irrelevant as she couldn’t muster enough strength to break the bonds, even if she had only been tied with strips of paper. The horrible reality that she was bound and helpless and Angelus’ captive penetrated her mind and she groaned.
‘Awake?’ a tender voice asked.
her mind questioned.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ the voice continued.
she assessed.
‘Buffy, I know,’ he told her gently. ‘I know you’re Bethany.’
Buffy was utterly confused. she thought, unable to voice the thought due
* * *
to the dry painfulness of her throat which was preventing her from using it for fear of inducing more agony. But she had to admit, he’d tied her in a very comfortable position, and he was being... well, *nice*. Angelus was treating her like Angel used to, well, except for the ropes.
‘All those times I kept on killing you,’ he said, his voice filled with remorse. ‘And I never knew until it was too late. The woman I drained in China in 1856; I saw her face when I’d finished and it was you. The woman I tripped up accidentally so she fell into the path of a passing Hansom cab in London was you. Seeing your perfect face on top of that mangled body... oh God! It happened so many times, I kept on killing you and I never meant to! I just wanted you back. And now I finally have my chance.’
Buffy was getting more and more out of her depth by the minute.
He noticed her discomfort, mistaking it for physical rather than mental, and affectionately raised her head with one arm, while the other brought a glass of ice-water to her lips. She sipped slowly at the water, feeling it side down her throat. Finally she was able to talk again.
‘Angel, I... I don’t know what you think... *who* you think I am. But I’m not your ex-girlfriend, or whatever. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and you’ve never killed me. I’ve never lived in London or China, and what is a Hansom cab anyway?’
‘There’s no mistake, Buffy. You are Bethany, and you can’t deny it.’
‘You're crazy. You have no proof, Angel. Maybe you just loved this woman, and felt guilty for killing her, which you undoubtedly did from the expression on your face. Maybe that guilt made you think other women were her, I don’t know why. I’m sure there’s a psychological term for it. But I’m not her.’
‘If you aren’t Bethany, then explain *this*!’ Angel ripped his shirt off, and Buffy had a split-second to remember how god-like his body was before he turned around.
‘Angel!’ she cried, wincing in sympathy. She’d seen his tattoo before, but that time it had been simply a black ink drawing. Now it looked painfully sore. Every line was raised, and his entire back was red and raw. At some points the skin was so twisted it had cracked open, and some of the lines were obscured by dried blood.
‘This happens every time I meet you again, Bethany. It reacts to you. It took me a while to figure out there was a connection.’
‘I don’t get it....’ Buffy murmured.
‘You don’t recognise it? It’s your engraving, Bethany. You were carrying it when I killed you. I had it tattooed onto my back so I’d never forget you. And it always lets me know me when you’re near.’
‘But I’m not Bethany, Angel! Why won’t you see that! I wish I could say I was, because then maybe you’d feel better, but you’re wrong. I am not Bethany, I never have been. I’m sorry, A-’
Buffy broke of as a strange feeling of wooziness hit her. Her eyelids felt *so* heavy. When she opened them again, something was wrong. Buffy quickly understood what had happened; she’d experienced this feeling of not being in control of her own body once before at Halloween.
a soft voice said. Buffy immediately felt reassured. < I just need to borrow your body for a while. There’s something I’ve waited two centuries to do >
Angelus saw the change in Buffy’s eyes the second they opened. The fear, overshadowed by a quiet determination not to succumb to him that were always present in Buffy’s eyes when she looked at him were gone, replaced by such pure love that he was overwhelmed.
‘Bethany?’
‘Angel. It’s me. Untie me, please.’ Angelus hastened to comply, helping her to sit up.
‘Bethany, I-’
‘Shh. I know everything you want to say to me, and I don’t have much time. I’ve tried so many times before to tell you, but something always stopped me. Angel, I can’t leave this earth and move on to Heaven or whatever's waiting for me until I tie up my loose ends, so to speak. You’ve spent your whole life being tormented by the guilt of my death, and your remorse has kept me trapped here. Angel, I need you to understand that I forgive you, and I need you to let the pain go. But more importantly, I have to make sure you don’t make a horrible mistake. You love Buffy, more than you loved me even. I’m not jealous; I understand. She’s your destiny. Promise me you won’t kill her, Angel. Otherwise you will never be happy again.’
‘But Bethany... I want you.’
‘No, you don’t. She’s the one you love now. You stopped loving me a long time ago; the only thing you feel about me now is guilt. Let it go, Angel, but don’t make the same mistake with her that you did with me. Don't lose her, Angel, you need her more than you realise.’
‘I... She doesn’t want me anymore. Not after what I did.’
‘But you can atone.’
Angel suddenly received a clear mental image of Buffy standing over him holding a glowing orb.
‘Let her bring my soul back?’
‘You were willing to do anything to bring me back, Angel. She’s worth every bit as much as I was. But you can only love her properly with your soul.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Angel said, unsure why he was agreeing to voluntarily return himself to his soul-burdened state, but filled with an undeniable feeling of *rightness*.
‘Good. I forgive you, Angel, never forget that.’
Buffy’s eyes closed and she became limp in his arms. A few minutes later her beautiful brown eyes reopened, and she blinked at him.
‘Angel?’
‘Soon, love. We have a re-cursing to do.’
‘What?’
‘I made a promise to Bethany, and I intend to keep it. We need to find the curse again. Ms Calendar was working on it when I...’ his brown eyes darkened. ‘I’ll do anything to make that up to you, Buffy. That and everything else I’ve done.’
Buffy faded back into unconsciousness, but he managed to catch her last words.
‘All you need to do is love me.’
* * *
When Willow walked into the computer room the next morning, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Then she saw the bright yellow disk on top of her lesson plans. Underneath it was a note.
‘Hi, guys. I know you probably won’t be able to understand, especially Xander and Giles, but I’ve left. The disk holds a copy of the Spell of Restoration. Jenny was working on it. We found it last night, and Angelus agreed to let me perform it on him.... don’t ask! Anyway, I’ve got my Angel back, plus soul, and I have to admit that I can’t hate him for what the demon did. But I know you guys won’t be able to stand seeing him, and I had a choice to make. I came to the decision that Angel is more important to me than anything else in the world, so it seems that the only choice is for us to leave. Please make sure my mom is okay and explain... well, some of it. I’m sure Kendra can handle things, so I don’t feel guilty about leaving. Wherever we end up, I’ll still do my bit to rid the world of evil. Maybe someday I’ll be able to return, but for the moment all I can think about is being with my Angel. He’ll take care of me. Sorry for all we’ve hurt you.
Love, Buffy.’
Willow gasped, and fell into the chair.
‘She’s.... gone?’ she whispered to the empty room shakily. ‘Oh god, she’s really gone.’
* * *
‘Buffy?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I... I just wondered... that is, uh...’
‘What?’ Buffy sat up in her seat, staring curiously at Angel.
‘I... Will you marry me?’ he asked, rushed, already preparing for her rejection. It was too soon, it had only been a week since they’d left Sunnydale...
* * *
‘Yes, Angel,’ she replied, placing a finger on his lips to silence his confusion. ‘Of course I will.’ Buffy smiled warmly at him, and he drew her into his arms for a kiss.
Buffy slipped her hands under his shirt, and her probing fingers encountered only smooth flesh. She tugged at his shoulder to get him to twist around, and pulled up his shirt.
‘Angel,’ she breathed. ‘It’s gone.’ There was no sign that the tattoo had ever been there; Angel’s entire back was smooth and unblemished.
‘I guess there’s no need to force yourself to remember Bethany anymore,’ Buffy told him, smiling.
He swept her into his arms and planted his mouth fully on hers, his ability to think coherently fading rapidly, and she shifted in his hold, pressing her warm body against his ice-cold one.
And Bethany’s tormented ghost was finally able to leave for the afterlife... whatever it was.
the end
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