Disclaimer: None of the characters, and even a few of the scenes this time, are mine. I'm just taking liberties with them. Someone needs to.
A big THANK YOU to Jen for making this actually readable:)
*******
Learning to Live Again
The car flew along the road, gliding across the pavement as if floating on air. She drove as fast as she dared, hoping in the back of her mind that she wouldn't be stopped. There just wasn't a good way to explain why her speedometer was pegged at 120 mph. Somehow she didn't think that telling the kind officer that she had finally reached her limit after being brought back from the dead would get her off the hook. But doing it just to see the look on his face was tempting.
Buffy kept her eyes glued to the road. She was fully aware that it wasn't just herself she was risking at these speeds. No better than a drunk driver. But even knowing that wasn't enough to make her pause. Her own personal demons were right behind her and gaining fast. If she didn't get there soon, she might start screaming. Start screaming and never stop.
Thankfully Giles had left his car behind when he returned to England. He had given her permission to sell it, but she hadn't gotten around to it. Which was a good thing since she didn't think her mother's Jeep would be able to handle the kind of driving she was putting the red BMW through. When this was over, she'd sell it. Keep the Jeep that was paid for, along with the much lower insurance payment. But for now she just wanted whatever would get her there the fastest.
Maybe leaving Dawn with Willow hadn't been her best choice considering everything that had happened lately. But Buffy hadn't been able to stay. There was just too much to deal with there. Too many things coming at her from all sides. She did understand that this, this flight from Sunnydale, was basically the kind of thing that had made Giles leave. This inability to deal. But how could she possibly be able to deal with everything when she couldn't even deal with herself right now?
As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't even feel comfortable in her own skin. Even when she hadn't fit in while at high school, she had always been comfortable with who she was. Ok, there had been a few exceptions. She had always accepted herself. Maybe not her calling, but herself. Always able to take refuge in herself even when she couldn't take refuge with others.
No one understood now. Buffy wasn't even sure if any of them wanted to understand. If she had a choice, she probably wouldn't want to understand any of it either. Then again she hadn't wanted to be ripped from Heaven.
They all expected her to just pick up the pieces of her life and carry on. To feel exactly the same, think exactly the same, act the same. But she wasn't the same. She would never be the same. Even if they hadn't ripped her out of the only peaceful existence she'd ever known, she had still died. Died and came back.
How could anyone be the same after that?
And the worst, most disturbing part of it all? Spike got it. Spike. Once again she found that she couldn't fool him. Couldn't lie to him like she had lied to the others. The people who were supposed to know her the best didn't seem to know her even half as well as a demon that had tried to kill her on more than one occasion. The sad part was, she didn't even care that it was true. Willow's attempt at the forget spell hadn't even left her angry. Somewhere inside herself she knew it should have, but she just didn't have it in her. Giles deciding to leave had been the only thing to effect her since her untimely resurrection.
That and Spike.
Maybe it hadn't been the same for him, but he understood what it was like to die and return. At least in part.
And he hadn't helped them raise her.
Buffy knew that simple fact was a large part of it all. She knew Dawn and Giles hadn't helped, but somehow it was different with them. Maybe because she didn't think they would have, even if asked. It wasn't something she could figure out, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Or maybe it was the fact that Spike never expected things from her. He didn't expect her to feel a certain way. Didn't expect her to be grateful or act like nothing happened. He just let her be whoever she was without question or complaint. Most of the time anyway.
But the whole thing was still wrong. She knew that. The feelings; lack of feelings. And the desperate attempts at using him to make herself feel something again. Buffy was pretty sure Spike knew what it was all about, but somehow he didn't seem to care. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that bothered her as well.
But he accepted her for her and she couldn't turn away from that. Not when no one else could do the same. It was all she had left.
Or at least all she thought she had left. Just a few more miles and she would know for sure.
*******
He opened the car door and slid inside without a word. The tension in the air was so thick he wondered if any movements would be like moving underwater. Asking what was wrong occurred to him but it was, at most, only a passing thought. She would tell him when she was ready. At first it almost seemed like she was driving aimlessly. After a while he knew where she was going. He just didn't know why or how.
The pier stretched out across the water. Only the sound of the waves broke the silence. When they had gotten out of the car, she took his hand. No words passed between them as she led him to a place she shouldn't remember. Their hands slipped apart as she stopped to look out over the water. Slowly she turned, looking towards the flower covered archway for a moment. Then she looked at him.
"I feel like we've been here before." A pained pause filled the air between them. "But I know that can't be true." He said nothing, she wasn't asking him to. "It's like I have these shadows in my mind. Sometimes they slip and I see this place."
Angel reached out slowly and pulled her to him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close.
"The shadows aren't only in my mind. They're inside me too. In my heart. Maybe in my soul." A brittle laugh fell from her lips. "If I even have a soul now. But I just can't bring myself to care. Care about the fact I'm made of shadows now."
Gently he stroked her hair and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. His other hand lightly ran along the length of her back.
"I know I should care. I know I should feel something. But I don't." Buffy turned haunted eyes to her lover. "I don't feel anything anymore."
He hesitated a second, unsure of what kind of response she was looking for. When she said nothing more, he finally asked, "Why do you think that is?"
Resting her cheek lightly against his shoulder, Buffy offered a slight shrug. "I don't know," she said softly, "I don't know anything anymore. Not even myself."
He smiled faintly against her hair. "I know you," he whispered, "I know Buffy."
Something close to panic was written across her face when she looked up at him again.
"Who am I?" she questioned, "Who is Buffy? What does Buffy think? How does Buffy feel?"
Angel untangled himself from her, smiling softly at her. "Walk with me," he answered, "and I'll tell you everything I know about Buffy Summers."
The first hint of a smile touched her mouth as her hand slid into his. It didn't matter what happened, he always had the ability to be the anchor she needed. To be something she could hang on to while she caught her breath again.
He led her towards the sand, waiting until their feet touched it before he began to speak. His voice was soft, that of someone recalling fond memories.
"Let's see Buffy. That's right. Nice girl. Very spry. About your height. Spunky too. She wasn't always happy about who she was, what she was. But she always stepped up when needed." His voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled her down into the sand beside him. "Even when she knew it would cost her the things she cared about the most. Maybe even her life."
Buffy leaned against him, her head finding his shoulder. This was the first moment since her return that she felt ok. That she felt like Buffy. No worry or doubt about who she was or who she might become.
"Sounds like a rough gig," she replied softly.
"It is," Angel agreed. "But she knew she could make it. Knew she had what it took, that she could do what so many before her couldn't do. And she knew she had friends and family that would stand behind her no matter what. Sometimes that makes all the difference.
"She was strong. Always there when someone needed something. Even if she was hurting as well. She was always there for anyone who needed her, even the ones who didn't know they did at the time.
"And she was made of light. She brought it to everything she touched. I think it must have been a magick light. It always reached into the darkness. Always cut through the pitch black that sometimes makes it impossible to see out of. It would glow like a beacon sometimes. Lead you out of a darkness you thought would swallow you whole." The words welled up in him until he felt the sting of tears. Swallowing them back down, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Buffy Summers is the most amazing, wonderful person I've ever met. She never failed to surprise me."
"She sounds like someone worth knowing," Buffy whispered sadly.
He couldn't help but smile at that. "No matter what happens, she's someone that is a blessing to know. Someone who stays with you even after she's gone."
"Why can't I be like her?"
Angel took a deep breath, his smile fading. The raw pain in her voice cut him deeply. She might deny that the person she thought she was had any feeling, but the pain came off of her in crashing waves. It was so obvious to him that he couldn't help but wonder how no one else could feel it. There was more than just pain in her. Anger and resentment boiled near the surface. Fear mingled with them as well. Angel wondered if those emotions made her run away from herself.
"You're still her Buffy. Still that girl. You won't always be the same. It's part of being human, part of growing up. But it doesn't matter if you've been in heaven or hell. She's still there."
Her voice was horrified and she couldn't bring herself to actually look at him when she asked, "How did you know?"
"The same way I knew you were outside the hotel. The same way I know when you have nightmares. The same way I know who you are. I knew it when I spoke to you on the phone. I could hear it, feel it." He scooted through the sand until he positioned himself behind her. Carefully he eased her backward until her back was against his chest and he could wrap his arms around her. "You can't be what everyone wants you to be Buffy. You can only be who you are."
Angel felt a protest build inside her. With a gentle squeeze he cut her off. "I know how hard that can be sometimes Buffy. I know what it's like when someone expects things from you that you just can't give. Sometimes it just takes time. And sometimes you just can't give it no matter how much they want it or how much you want to give it." He sighed softly, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "I know they expect you to just be the Buffy you've always been. And it's not fair of them to expect that. But you can't ask them not to feel that, just like they shouldn't ask you not to feel the way you do. You can only be Buffy, even if it's not the same Buffy they want or expect."
"I know what it's like to be there." A million possible lectures spun around in his mind but he discarded them quickly. She didn't need a lecture. She needed someone who understood. Someone who got it. With a deep breath he braced himself for the pain he was about to relive and plunged ahead.
"Before I was changed, I was a huge disappointment. My father thought I was a curse. I could never do anything right by him, no matter how hard I tried. He excepted things of me I just couldn't do. Expected me to be someone I wasn't. After a while I got tired of trying. So I became what he hated the most because then at least he had a real reason to hate me. To be disappointed in me."
His hands slid down her arms as they rested on his knees. Fingers trailed along her skin until his hands covered hers and their fingers entwined.
"There isn't much that can prepare you for becoming a vampire. Even after you dig yourself from the grave, it's all just so strange. It was painful and frightening. Disorienting. But after a time I grew into it. I became Angelus and no longer even thought about who I was before I was changed. Never thought about how I never could be what someone else wanted of me. I shut it out.
"But nothing, not when I was alive or when I was changed, prepared me for having my soul returned to me. In that instant I was no longer Angelus, but I couldn't be Liam either."
Buffy squeezed her fingers with his. She couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to be slammed with the realization of all the evil deeds Angelus had done. To feel that you had to take the blame and responsibility for things that had happened that you never had any control over.
"I didn't even want to be who I had been before honestly. Being Liam had been too hard. Too painful. Being Angelus had been much easier." Angel closed his eyes, happy to just feel her against him. He rarely allowed himself to admit how much he missed her. To have her close was like walking that fine line between heaven and hell. Part of him felt the burn, the pain of the flames. And part of him could feel the peace and contentment that surrounded him like a cocoon of warmth.
"Darla was the one who brought me the gypsy girl. Brought her to me as a present to be exact. She thought I'd like the girl, and she was right. We both fed on her, and when she was dead we tossed her aside like a bunch of dirty rags.
"Just before dawn I took the girl's body back to her tribe. I wanted to watch them hurt. Watch them grieve. If the sun hadn't been so close to rising, I might have stuck around. Wiped out the rest of the clan. Instead I got to see their horror. I could feel their pain, taste their fear. Even though I couldn't feed from them it was enough that when I returned to Darla, we didn't spend much of the day sleeping."
Buffy made a sound that could have either been a chuckle or an ick. Resting her head back against the curve of his neck she asked, "How soon did they do it?"
"The next night. When I woke up I could feel it. I could feel the beginnings of the spell.
"Darla was already gone. Normally I would have made a game of finding her, but the weight of the spell and my soul was pressing against me. I knew who it was. There wasn't a doubt in my mind. So I went back to the clan."
A slight shudder ran down his spine and she snuggled closer.
***
Stalking closer to the camp, he fully intends to rip out the throat of the person who dares even attempt it. Rage surges inside of him. How dare someone even think such a thing!
The gypsy woman's words were soft, but he hears them anyway. The rage that filled him only seconds earlier drains, replaced by a crushing weight. It is thick and heavy, wrapping itself around him like wet clothes. When he takes a breath, he can feel it leak into him, filling his insides as well.
Angelus begins to fear.
Her words swirl around him and he begins to run. Terror rips through him hard enough that it nearly lifts the feeling of the spell off of him. He stumbles, falls, then scrambles back to his feet. Running blindly, he slaps tree branches out of the way and leaps over roots. Perhaps if he is far enough away, the spell will not take hold.
Stumbling again, he skids across the loose soil and leaves, falling to his hands and knees. Looking up, he sees the fire of the camp and the woman sitting across from him. Her smile sends fear into his heart. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes.
Instead, the spell fills him, ripping him open. Leaves holes in him so that the object could flood him. Fill him until he thinks he will explode.
Then it is over.
The world seems to spin around him and he thinks he might fall over. His mind tries to tell him things, tries to make him understand, but the messages are fuzzy.
"It hurts, yes? Good. It will hurt more." The voice is cold.
Confusion reigns in his brain. "Where am I?"
"You don't remember. Everything you've done. For a hundred years. In a moment you will." The man's voice is full of disgust and loathing. "The face of everyone you have killed - our daughter's face - they will haunt you and you will know what true suffering is."
Killed? What is the old man talking about? His head is screaming in protest, but something in the back of his mind is beginning to awaken. "Killed? I don't. . ."
Suddenly the fog is lifts from his brain. Images of them screaming, begging for their lives flood his head, flood his soul like filthy, black water. His heart clenches in his chest and the guilt swells inside of him, pulling him apart. They hover just behind his eyes begging for mercy, offering him anything but that. All of them.
"Oh no. no" The words are a whisper, a fleeting prayer.
The old gypsy hovers over him, a smile on her lips as the screams come. The pain fills his voice, but no amount of screaming will ever make it go away
***
Another shudder racked his body. He could feel the wrench of pain as if it had happened only moments ago. The overwhelming terror.
Buffy touched his cheek. "I'm sorry it had to be that way," she whispered.
He kissed the palm of her hand. "I know."
Angel closed his eyes, letting the feel of her touch erase away the pain of those moments. It wouldn't make it go away completely, but it did make it bearable.
"Somehow I made it back to Darla. I knew she could fix it." A new pain began to ooze in. "I knew if I could only return to her, she would know how to undo it all."
***
The sound of the door and the scent of the night fills his senses. Fear and hunger are forced back with them. Her presence reaches out to him, pulling him forward. Giving him hope.
"Angelus?" His name on her lips stirs him. It used to bring forth lust and wanting, but now it brings fear and pain.
She moves through the house and he can feel her draw close. His stomach tightens and the urge to run suddenly fills him. "Are you here?"
Slowly she draws closer to him. The candle light flickers, casting strange shadows around her. There was a time he would have found them beautiful. Now they scare him.
"Angelus -"
Movement cuts her off and she whirls, ready to attack if need be.
"Not everyone screams," he tells her softly. His words are almost hesitant.
"What?" His words make her think of Drusilla.
"when you kill them," he replies in that same voice, distant and far away. The thoughts whirl around in his head like a giant tornado. Most of them only snippets. "Some just stand there, frozen, while others"
The voice is strange to her, even though she knows it's him. The game seems strange to her.
"What are you doing? Are we playing a game?"
Stepping from the shadows, he looks at her self-consciously. His clothes are torn and dirty. His hair in disarray. Scrapes on his skin have yet to heal. She raises a brow at his disheveled state.
"the children, they usually scream"
Memories pull at her, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The game suddenly seems a little more appealing. Greasy unease coats him at her smile. He understands her thoughts.
"They sound just like little pigs," she recalls with fondness. A smile of anticipation curls her features. "Have you brought me some?"
He looks at her, saying nothing. His mind still unable to make sense of it all. His eyes roam her face, trying to find something there, anything, to comfort himself with. Find the hundreds of things he's seen before that he took joy in.
His hesitation causes her smile to falter. "What, you don't think I'll share? I can't believe you think I'm that insensitive."
Just the thought turns his stomach, but he still can't fathom why. They've done this for what seems like forever.
"We've drunk and killed for how long now? A hundred and forty odd years? We've drunk them all up and they're all dead"
The laugh is weak, strange. The unwelcome visitor inside of him forcing its way through his entire body, his whole being.
The behavior raises her hackles and she eyes him warily. "Where have you been?"
Suddenly she knows something has gone horribly wrong. This strange Angelus-Dru child is not her boy. It couldn't possibly be her boy. Her feelings are confirmed when he moves away from her.
The guilt rises inside of him, making it feel as if someone were ripping out his insides then trying to push his guts back in with hot pokers. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks that the guilt should have to leave if only to make room for the rest of it. The storm inside of him. A faint whimper escapes him as he tries to curl up upon himself. If there were any kind of justice in the world, he would simply die instead of living through this.
She reaches out to touch him and he cringes. "Don't," he commands.
"What is this?! Have you met someone else?" The demon flickers across her features.
The victims they shared over the years mock him behind his eyes. Laugh at the state he is in. He reaches for her then, willing it all to go away. Silently begging her to fix it. Darla begins to slide her arms around him, but then she knows.
Revulsion fills her and she tries to push him away. "NO Let go Let go of me!" Her cries are near panic.
As if touched with a cross, Darla flies back, away from him.
"What happened to you?!" she demands in a whisper.
Desperation shoves the other emotions aside and he longs to tell her. To make her understand that he hadn't asked for this.
His hesitation scares her even more. Her demands become harsh. "ANGELUS! What happened?!"
"That Gypsy girl you brought, her people found out, they did something to me" The words begin but he knows they won't be the right ones. In his heart, the heart that used to be filled with nothing but ice and black, he knows the words will not be enough.
"A spell," she says, the situation becoming clear.
"Funny, you'd think with all the people I've maimed and killed I wouldn't be able to remember every single one" The remorse and pain hit him with a near crushing force and he struggles to keep from going to his knees. He reaches out to her. He'll beg if he has to. "Help me."
Her stare forces him to look away, but a flicker of hope shines in his eyes as she reaches out to touch his face. The guilt, fear, and revulsion war inside of him. He would do anything to make them go away. Anything.
It all becomes clear to her. "The spell they gave you a soul"
He nods, relief rushing across his face. She understands. She will know what to do. Darla will make him whole again.
Pain forces him to cry out as she slashes his face with her nails. The bloody trails on his cheek burn like holy water as he stumbles back.
"a filthy soul." Disgust fills her words and she hurls them like an accusation. Horror grows on her face, her posture stiff and rigid. He feels all hope die within him as she stares at him full of loathing.
He aches to reach for her, but as if she senses his intentions, she snarls at him. "No! You're disgusting."
"Darla" Her words stun him. Tear into him. Find places that even the spell and his soul couldn't reach. She is his family.
"Get away from me."
"You brought her here!" He doesn't have to say the rest of it. If it weren't for you
With stunning power, she flings a chair against the wall. It shatters, falling in splinters to the floor. All of it except a single piece. A piece she holds firmly in her hand. Terror begins to cloud his thinking and he tries to find a way to reason with her.
Darla swings the stake down, barely missing him as he jumps out of the way.
"I am like you!" It's the only thing he can plead now.
"You're not like anything." Her words are cold as she lunges again. "GET AWAY FROM ME!!"
The stake barely misses him a second time. Running, he trips over a chair and nearly sends himself sprawling. Gathering his footing, he races for the door and bursts outside.
Picking himself up off the ground he looks back at her. The fright nearly forces him to his knees. His world has changed. He no longer has a family. He no longer has anything.
With one last glance back, he turns and walks away, leaving everything he has known for more than a century behind.
***
"At first I didn't understand. Didn't realize how much it had forced me to change. Suddenly I couldn't even feed. I tried a few times, but I couldn't get past the pain and guilt. I nearly starved before I figured out I could live off animals."
With an ick sound in the back of her throat, Buffy pressed herself against him. It was hard for her to hear him talk about the things he had done. But she knew how hard it was for him to talk about it. How much pain he felt every time he had to admit to things that had been done as Angelus. And she also knew he wouldn't be telling her these things if there wasn't a reason for it.
"I lived like that for a while. Tried to make myself invisible. Tried to shut out the pain. One night I woke up, filled with panic. I was terrified I would always be like that. Once again my family was disappointed in me. Once again my family had disowned me. But this time I couldn't just be what they didn't want me to be because I didn't know how. I didn't know how to be anything but the monster Angelus was. I thought they knew who I was better than I did. So I decided to be Angelus again. No matter what, I would not disappoint my family.
"I tracked them down at the Rebellion. I had convinced myself I could still be Angelus. Still be the monster. When I couldn't feed on innocents I convinced myself it was just because it had been so long. A few kills would put me back in the game. So I started small, killed people who were murderers and rapists. People who deserved to die.
"At first it was enough to fool them. Just seeing me kill someone was enough to convince them that I controlled my soul. That my demon was stronger. It faded the longer we stayed together.
"I think she started to suspect it before that night. I'm not sure what it was that let her know. Maybe she didn't until she went back into the alley"
His voice trailed off as he became lost in the memories. When her fingers squeezed his, he jumped slightly. Squeezing back, he kissed the side of her head.
"Sorry," he told her, "I guess the memories still sting a little."
"S'ok," Buffy smiled slightly. "I think it's understandable." She gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts, then, "What was in the alley?"
"Missionaries. I ran into them on accident. I was looking for her when I went into the alley. I could smell the fear. And their blood. And the baby."
***
He strides through the middle of the chaos, the violence and anger swirling around him like a living creature. People battle around him as he glances around for her. The smell of blood and human fear used to be intoxicating to him. Used to make him crave more. He tries to convince himself that it still does.
But somewhere inside he knows it's not true.
The almost-Angelus pushes his way through a small gathering of people. All of them alive, so he knows she has not been here yet. The smells press against him. The desperation to get away from it all wells up within him.
"Darla!" he calls as loud as he can. The sooner he finds her, the sooner he can give her an excuse to leave here.
More violence to his right, nearly on top of him. He scowls at the people and moves away, moving to an alleyway silently praying for some peace and quiet. Just a few moments of it.
They stand in the shadows, huddled together, praying for someone to save them. But their prayers have only brought him.
Children cling to their parents, looking at him with haunted, frightened eyes. They should be frightened, he thinks. But not of him. He just doesn't have it in him to do them harm.
Something moves in a bundle of blankets and he realizes they hold a baby as well. Hunger flares inside of him even as the nausea rolls in his stomach. The baby lets out a small gurgle and he can feel his demon try to surface. Forcing the creature back, he meets the father's gaze. Opening his mouth to tell them to run, he stops as he hears her call from somewhere nearby.
Slowly he backs away, unable to take his eyes off them but still unable to act. His stomach clenches and he knows he should do something. Be a vampire or be a man. Either one. But he can't. Instead he takes the coward's way out. The darkness swallows them just as he nearly collides with her.
Darla's cheeks are full of color. Her body language almost that of a small child on Christmas morning. "The whirlwind, Angelus!" The excitement wraps itself around her and she grabs him, kissing him hard on the mouth.
He tried to return the enthusiasm, but his mind isn't with her. It's with them. Those hiding, cowering, in fear of their lives. With the baby.
Almost as if sensing his thoughts, she pulls away from him, a smile faltering on her mouth. Turning her attention to the alley, she takes a step forward. "What's over here -?" she asks curiously.
"Nothing. Bodies." He cuts her off. "Let's find something warm -"
Uncertainty flashes across her features as if weighing his actions. He had promised her it would be like before. Fear crawls around in his belly as she looks at him. If she could only see through him she'd know that he understands now that he can never keep that promise.
"Yes. Some missionaries," she smiles. "We'll drain the piety right out of them."
Taking her arm, he begins to guide her away. Somehow he will keep them safe. He will make up for his inability to act. Darla pauses, causing him to stop as Spike and Drusilla emerge from a burning building. A sinking feeling pushes away the nausea that was coiling around his stomach. They are tangled together, both smiling. He almost smiles at how Spike carries himself. The unsure vampire had changed in a few short decades.
"Where have you two been?" Darla asks with a raised brow.
The two lovebirds look at each other with conspiratory smiles.
"May I tell?" Drusilla asks him with a giggle.
Nuzzling against her, Spike offers his love a smile. "No need to be humble."
"My Spikey's just killed a Slayer!"
The words hit him like a plummeting boulder. There were times when he had hoped he would drink the blood of a Slayer. Hold her life in his hands.
Now the thought just made him sick.
The blood spattered across the other vampire's skin made him want to heave. It emanated some kind of force that shoved at him. Forcing him to take a few steps back.
"What?" Darla asks stunned. When it sinks in, she looks at her lover. "Did you hear that?"
The sinking feeling is falling out of control now. The world seems to be rushing with it. A Slayer is dead. Someone who might have put them all out of their miserable existence. Someone who might actually be able to save those who needed to be saved. Someone who knew how to act.
"Congratulations," he manages finally. He hopes he can cover up his revulsion well enough. "I guess that makes you one of us."
"Don't be so glum, mate." A smirk pulls the blood on his face in new directions. "Way you tell it, one Slayer snuffs it, another one rises. I figure there's a new Chosen One, getting all chosen as we speak. Tell you what: if and when this new bird does show up - I give you first crack at her."
Oh God, he thinks, What have I done? But he says nothing. Instead he nods. The prospect would have filled him with giddy excitement at one time, but now
His attention is turned inward as Dru turns. The alleyway looms ahead of her and she eyes it coldly.
"I smell fear -"
Panic smacks him into reality again. "This whole place reeks of it." He can only hope that the excuse will placate her.
The other vampire seems to think it over, then a slow smile spreads on her face. "It's intoxicating."
The edge of the weapon flashes in the firelight catching his attention. Instinct takes over and he reaches out, snapping the man's neck. Frustration and fear rise high in him and he nearly loses control. Nearly taking the man's head from his body completely.
"Let's get out of here," he growls, sickened at his own actions. "This rebellion's starting to bore me."
He turns on his heel, stalking off. With no reason or moment to argue, he doesn't even look back to see if they follow.
***
"I think it was the baby that made me realize. I couldn't do it. I couldn't just be a vampire. I was more than that. And in some ways, less. I looked at the baby and knew I had to keep Darla away from them.
"I thought I had done it. I had hoped that the slayer's death at Spike's hand would be enough to distract her.
"But I was wrong."
He took a shuddering breath. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to feel her. Feel her body against his. Even the surge of desire that would normally have pained him was welcome. Sometimes the memories were worse than living it.
She sensed it. Knew the struggle he was feeling inside. As much as she had come here to feel his strength and his warmth, she knew he took the same comfort in hers.
***
He moves silently, hoping to avoid notice. If she doesn't realize he has arrived,
then she can't possibly question him.
"Darla?" he asks softly, not really expecting her to answer. A flicker of relief starts inside of him, then he sees her. She sits alone in the dark. He can feel her anger. "What's going on?" He can't hide the wariness in his voice.
"Where have you been?" The question is cold, direct.
His mind scrambles to come up with a story she will believe. One that will make things ok. He knows he can't stay here. But this is the only family he has ever really known and he is loath to leave it. "Just out -- why?"
"Feeding?" The word sounds like it's tainted when she says it like that.
"Yes -"
"On vermin?" she interrupts heatedly.
"No." He doesn't try to offer more. The waves of her anger rise and he can feel them smashing against him.
"Don't lie to me," she spits at him
"I've killed men," he insists, "You've seen it -"
Darla shoves herself out of the chair, moving towards him with barely contained fury. "Rapists and murderers. Thieves and scoundrels. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Only evil-doers. That's all you hunt anymore -"
The waves of hatred wash over him. They burn, but they also bring relief. His lie is coming to an end.
Hurt tinges the angry words. "You swore to me. You said if I took you back, you'd prove yourself."
"And I will -" he tries. Maybe if she understands then she can help him.
Her smile isn't warm. "Good."
A blanket covers something on the table. Snatching a corner, she whips it off. He feels an invisible knife plunge into his heart as he realizes what she has done.
For the second time this night, the baby looks at him.
"Now's your chance."
Shock sends shooting pains through him as he looks from the baby to her.
"I went back before dawn," she explains. "They were still cowering there. Praying to their God for salvation. They didn't know that their only savior was at the waterfront -- dining on rats."
Ice and darkness fill the space where relief had been at the discovery of his lie. He won't lie to her any more. She deserves more than that from him.
"I won't be made a fool, Angelus. Not by you. Not by anyone."
The truth is all he has. "I didn't mean to."
"No?" she demands. "For godsake, while Spike -- Spike -- is off killing a Slayer -- you're saving missionaries." Hurt fills her face as she looks at him. "From me."
He never wanted to hurt her. Never wanted to see pain in her eyes like this. He only wanted to be a part of her world again. To feel as if he belonged.
"I'm sorry..." It's all he has to offer. He reaches for her, but she backs away. Sugar coated words won't be enough this time.
"No. No more words. Act."
She glares at him defiantly, daring him to deny her. Longing fills him and he wishes he could do what she wants of him. Wishes he could be what he was. At least then he had someone. He had her.
But everything has changed now and he knows that he's lost everything. Both of his lives are gone to him now. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath.
"I can't," he tells her softly.
His words shock her more than if he had smacked her. "...what do you mean you can't?"
Unable to stop, his gaze travels back to the table. The baby gurgles at him again, a small smile on its face.
"You won't," she accuses.
"No... it's more than that. There's something in me. It prevents..." Maybe the truth will help ease her pain even if it tears him apart. Tears well in his eyes. Relief and regret mingle in his heart. "I can't seem to be what I'm not... I've tried."
The rage is back. "You disgust me."
With lightning quick reflexes, he moves to her and pulls her close. "I'm sorry," he tells her gently. Then with all his strength he shoves her away as hard as he can. Spinning, he sweeps the basket up into his arms.
Without looking back, he crashes through the window and fades into the night.
***
"I remember thinking how wrong it was to feel all those things. A vampire wouldn't care and a human would never have worried about disappointing a monster.
"I wasn't either one. Never could be. I went into hiding then. If someone found me, knew who I had been, there were too many people and creatures that wanted me dead. Angelus was dead, but Angel hadn't been born yet. The only thing I wanted was to be left alone. A few times I thought about just letting the first creature that wanted a go at it kill me. Even went so far as to seek a few out. But when it came down to it, I was too scared to die. At least here I knew what I faced. I didn't know what there might be on the other side, and I was terrified of facing that.
"It took a few years before I finally decided I wanted out from under the shadow of Angelus. When that time came I just jumped on the first ship out of Europe. I didn't care where it was going Africa, Australia, anywhere but there. I don't think I even knew it was heading for America until the trip was nearly over. I fed off rats on the trip. That's all there was unless I wanted to kill humans.
"When we arrived, I just faded away for awhile. Easy to do in New York, even in those days. A few decades later I decided I wanted to try my hand at being human. I hadn't fed off an actual person in so long I don't know maybe I thought I wouldn't ever have the urge. It was easy to ignore it in New York I didn't allow myself to be around people. But when I got to LA it was different."
Buffy blinked at the water. "You've been here before?"
A soft sigh escaped his lips and she could feel the pain in it.
"Yeah, I've been here before. At the hotel." The words were tinged with regret.
She gripped his fingers lightly and nuzzled the side of his neck. "I'd understand if you didn't want to tell me."
The smile was small, but she could feel it.
"It's ok. If I didn't think it would help you understand then maybe I wouldn't. But it's important.
"From the time I knew I could no longer be Angelus to the time I moved here, I tried very hard not to feel anything. I could take no pleasure from being a vampire anymore. So I blocked out everything else too.
"I didn't feel the heat or cold. I felt no pain, emotional or physical. I didn't care what happened to me or anyone around me.
"When I moved, I mistakenly thought I could just turn it back on. Maybe even be the person I was before Darla changed me. But it wasn't that easy. After a few decades of numbness I couldn't just care again. Couldn't feel again.
"I moved into the hotel knowing I'd be near people. I could be near them, maybe be a part of their lives, but I could do it slowly. At my own pace. Moving at my own pace really didn't work. After a while I still didn't feel anything but hunger. Being around them made me remember how people tasted. That scared me a little I think. More than a little.
"When I finally tried to help someone, it went badly. The demon took them over, made them act like different people. But even after being there myself, knowing what that was like, I couldn't forgive them.
"So I let the demon have them. All of them."
"And I didn't care."
A shudder ran down Buffy's spine as Angel continued.
"After that I went back to New York. I didn't even care enough to try anymore. I lived on the streets, fed off vermin to survive and avoided everyone and everything. I didn't have a name. I had used my father's in LA, but I didn't want it anymore. People who have names have feelings. They care.
"I didn't want any of it."
He slid his fingers from hers and hugged her close. She would never be able to understand everything about what he was going to tell her. He wasn't entirely sure he could explain it well. Relaxing his hold on her, he left his arms loosely around her. When she rested her hands against his skin, he smiled. There was just so much he would never be able to explain to her. But that was ok. He knew, and that was enough.
"Then Whistler came. Told me he wanted to show me something."
Angel paused a moment.
"He showed me you."
He felt her start in his arms. She knew he had seen her called. It was something he had told her once before. But he hadn't told her everything.
***
The sunlight stings his eyes and he squints, trying to see what Whistler has sent him here for. He is on the verge of giving up, thinking the demon has lost his mind along with his fashion sense when she steps into the courtyard.
Sunlight plays across her blonde hair, making the golden highlights come alive. Her skin glows with sun kissed color. She gives a smile to one of her friends and he feels something inside of him stir.
She sits on the steps and if he wouldn't have burst into flames at the touch of the sun, he'd have tried to get closer to her. She seems so happy. So carefree. She has her life ahead of her. Or so she thinks.
He watches as the older man approaches her. Cringes as the word "destiny" floats across the air to him. In that instant, he knows this girl will never get to lead the kind of life she deserves. Instead she will spend her time trying not to die. The knowledge pains him worse than anything he has ever experienced.
Silently he makes a promise to this girl. He will do whatever it takes to let her live the kind of life she deserves.
The sunlight still shines down on her as he watches her Watcher try to convince her of what is to happen. It seems unfair that the sun should still be so bright when fate has just played a cruel game.
Hunger pulls at him and he reluctantly rolls up the window of the battered car he is driving. He needs to feed before tonight. If he doesn't, he will be of no help to her at all.
***
The vampire explodes in a cloud of dust and he turns back to watch what is happening. He cringes as she slams into the ground. The urge to rush to her side and fight the demon for her is nearly overwhelming. But he knows she has to learn. He can't always be there to protect her. And as much as he hates it, it is now her scared duty to learn. To be able to protect herself and others. So he forces himself to watch. Should any other vampire dare to interrupt, he will take care of it just as he has the last, but he will not interfere directly with her. Not yet.
His breath catches in his throat as she flips the vampire onto his back and scrambles for a stake. The wood plunges into the demon and he winces.
"Ooh, that's not the heart"
Just a little to the left he advises silently.
She tries again, this time hitting her mark. The vampire is gone in a cloud of ash as she falls back on her butt. He can almost hear her mind racing at this new found power. At the pace with which her world has suddenly changed.
"You see? You see your power?"
The girl says nothing, but he can see the tears forming in her eyes.
Her Watcher tries to console her with a few words, but she ignores them. Taking a moment to gather her things, she flees.
He follows as closely as he dares. It won't do for her to see him now, for him to try to explain the things that have happened, not only to her, but to him as well. So he keeps a respectable distance. Silently he prays she will encounter no more creatures this night. She needs time to adjust.
When she reaches her home, he stays in the shadows silently thanking his vampire hearing. The argument inside reaches him and his heart aches for her even more. He watches from a window as she moves to her bathroom, taking a moment to gather herself. Not wanting to tell her parents how her life has changed. Unable to tell them. She fights tears once more, swallowing hard to keep them at bay.
When her mother comes to tell her that dinner is ready, she is curled up on her bed. A stuffed pig clutched to her chest.
"Dinner's ready," her mother tells her.
"I'm not hungry," she replies softly.
With a frown, her mother reaches out to feel her head. "Are you alright?"
A weak smile crosses her features. Her mother always worries about her. "I just don't feel well tonight."
Her mother nods slightly. "If it's about me and your father -"
"No!" she interrupts. She just can't handle it tonight. Not tonight. "I'm just not feeling well."
After regarding her daughter a moment, her mother nods. "Ok, if you decide you want some soup, let me know."
"I will," she promises.
Quietly her mother leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
Then the tears come. Wrenching sobs that he can feel through the glass. He aches to hold her in his arms and tell her that it will all be ok. That she can do some real good. That it doesn't have to be like the hundreds of Slayers before her. That she can be different. That she can have it all.
Instead he presses his hand to the glass and silently wills her to sleep. When her sobs subside, he crouches below her window, just wanting to be as close as possible to her. Wanting to be near in case something realizes who she is now. When dawn tempts the early morning sky he knows he loves her. Knows he will do anything for her. With one last touch of the glass he makes his way to Whistler.
Her life has changed in a moment. Now his has as well.
***
Her voice was a whisper, "I felt you outside my window. I almost got up to look, but I was scared of what I'd find. I just couldn't handle any more surprises. So I stayed in bed with the covers to my chin hoping it would all just go away."
The revelation made him smile. "I stood there until it was almost dawn," he confessed, "Just to make sure nothing else would show up. Or at least that's what I kept telling myself. I just wanted to be near you."
Buffy felt him pressed against her, felt his arms around her. "I know how that goes," she admitted.
They sat in silence for a while. The sound of the surf was a soothing rhythm against frayed nerves and raw souls.
Finally she broke the comfortable silence.
"Where you in Sunnydale before me?"
Angel nodded as he answered even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, Whistler sent me ahead of you. He said I wouldn't be any help if I was as disoriented as you would be." He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done. Going to Sunnydale."
"Why?"
"Because I knew if I went I couldn't turn back. I couldn't walk away. I couldn't ignore all the things I had done. If I went to Sunnydale, I would be in a whole new world. A new world that could have gotten me killed, or worse."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because I knew I had to help you. I had to do everything I could to keep you alive." A deep breath. "Because by keeping you alive, I was alive myself for the first time in centuries. You made me feel.
"You made me Angel."
"Oh"
He twined his fingers in hers and stared out at the dark water a moment.
"You can't choose how you feel. It's just something that is. And everyone in the world can tell you what you should be feeling. And you can think that you should feel a certain way. But when it comes down to it, you still can't control it. Feelings aren't wrong Buffy. Even if those feelings aren't what you expect, or what others expect. That doesn't make them wrong. It's ok to be angry. It's ok to be scared. It's ok to resent the fact they brought you back. All of those feelings are ok. They're just as right as feeling safe, sitting here in this place.
"You can't just shove those feelings away because you think they're wrong. If you do, they'll just end up coming back at you, probably at a time when you can't afford the distraction.
"Feelings are a part of our souls. When you ignore them, shut them away, you shut out a part of yourself. I never understood that until I saw you. I spent a hundred years ignoring the soul I had been given. It wasn't until I saw you that I got it."
"I've done things since I've been back" she trailed off, unable to tell him the details of everything that had happened. Unable to confess that only Spike had been able to make her feel.
"We've all done things Buffy. Even when we think we've got it all together, something happens that just throws you so far from where you were" he trailed off and took a breath. "There are always consequences and rewards for the things we do. You just have to deal with them as they happen.
"But lying to yourself about anything will only do more damage. Only make things worse. When you accept and acknowledge them, that's when you have the power to change them.
"You can't be the Buffy you used to be, but that doesn't mean you can't be Buffy. That you can't be you. Or even who you want to be. The Buffy you were in high school is different than the Buffy you were in college. And that Buffy isn't the same Buffy that jumped off a tower to save the world. But are any of those people not Buffy?"
After a moment of thought, she answered softly, "No I guess not."
"So this Buffy, the Buffy who came back from the dead, is still Buffy. Just as much as the others were Buffy. Now it's up to you to decide what and who you want this Buffy to be."
"Easier said than done."
"Always is. But if you can accept this Buffy then you can change her into the Buffy you want her to be.
"It won't be easy, and it will be painful. You'll make mistakes as you go. But that's ok."
She turned in his arms so she could look at him.
"When was the last time I told you I loved you?"
Angel laughed. "Does it matter?"
Buffy shook her head and threw her arms around him. "I love you. Just because you're you." She pulled away and offered a slight smile. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
She turned back towards the water, rearranging herself in the sand. Letting herself relax into him. She sighed with contentment.
"How much longer do we have?"
"A few hours still."
"You good here? Cause I don't want to move just yet."
"I'm good as long as you are."
"Angel?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you went to Sunnydale."
"Me too."
July 2002