Worth Living Again
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Angel has decided he can't go on any longer without her, but she turnes the tables and gives him something to live for again.
Dedication: This goes out to all my usual readers, and all the new ones!
The sun was just setting over the city. The blinding star made everything look good during the day, made everything glittering and glamorous, but now shadows were taking over, made everything that had been gay and inviting hostile. The wind had picked up, and people were huddling in their jackets as they walked quickly to their destination. It had been some years since the city had been rebuilt, but the night life had never been the same for those that needed to breathe.
He was walking down the street, lost in thought, when an old familiar scent tickled his still sensitive nose. He turned, seeking out the source of the vanilla laced with something sweeter. If he hadn't been forgiven, he would have realized instantly that the smell was wrong. But before he could take the time to analyze the smell, a flash of blonde caught his eye, and against his better judgment, he followed. He should have realized she was too young to be her, too tall, but the thought of seeing her again, just once more, overrode even his best judgment.
The girl never turned to look over her shoulder, never gave any indication of sensing him or that she was being followed at all. When he got just a few yards away, he called out her name, the one name that through everything he had never forgotten, even when he had forgotten his own.
The girl whipped around, stopping the flow of traffic, and he could hear some muttered complaints as she stood still on the crowded sidewalk and people were forced to go around her. She looked around, searching. He could see it wasn't her immediately, and his common sense kicked him, hard. She was dead, it said. His previous thoughts came back to him, the thoughts about how much it would hurt to take that sharp metal to his wrists, his throat…
The girl's gaze met his and he saw a hint of recognition as she looked him over, "Angel," she called. She smiled at him, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. That made the thoughts fly from his head. That this slip of a girl would know his name was startling enough, that she looked so much like her, and was happy to see him…
He let the moving mass of humanity take him to her side, and then he too stopped, staring down at her, confused, not that emotion showed on his face. He had learned long ago to hide everything. "Do I know you?"
She shook her head, "No, but Buffy has told me so much about you, I feel like I know you."
"You know Buffy?" he couldn't ever talk about her in the past tense.
And if she noticed his slip in tense, she didn't say anything, though her features were tinged with sadness. She nodded, "I only got to see her a few times, every birthday, but on every birthday and every Christmas, I always got a nice present and a long letter, even when I couldn't read. I-I've still got them at home…they make me feel close to her still," she said softly, looking at the ground, and he wondered how she could open up to a perfect stranger.
"Is she your cousin or something?" he asked.
She shook her head, "My mother. Biological, anyway."
He stared at her, shocked, "But- But you're-"
"Seventeen last fall. The same age she was when she had me. She gave me up, knowing she couldn't be what I needed, couldn't give me the life I deserved, but she couldn't let go completely. She made a deal with my parents, made sure that I'd always know where I had come from, that I was loved. She wanted me to understand why she had done what she had. Makes everything so much easier, since my parents are second and third generation Japanese, respectively. She knew I would be safe with them, my mother's father was a watcher, back in Japan, before…"
"But- seventeen…" he couldn't grasp what she was telling him.
She nodded, rummaging through her purse, "I know this is all new. At first she didn't tell me about you, she didn't want me to be too confused, but she left me a letter, and my parents gave it to me five years ago, along with a letter to give to you if I ever ran into you. She felt that I wasn't going to be able to understand when… anyway, I have it here somewhere, I've been carrying it around ever since they gave it to me." Finally she pulled out a battered envelope, "Sorry, doesn't travel well."
He took the envelope, carefully opened the flap, and took out the sheet of paper and was overwhelmed by her. Her distinct scent still clinging to the paper, what he had always imagined what sunlight would smell like, the vanilla perfume or body wash she always used. He felt her presence, and tears stung his eyes.
Slowly he read the loopy writing that he knew better than his own. She explained everything in that one page letter, how he wasn't certain, but she did, and through it all, he could feel her love radiating from the handwritten words and enveloping him. It was almost like she wasn't dead, she was standing next to him, gazing at him like she always had, and it was almost too much for him to bear. And with the reading came understanding, he understood why she had never told him, understood her fear for their daughter, understood the dreams she had for the girl.
"It's nice to finally meet you," she said softly, having waited for his eyes to stop traveling across the page, "I definitely got the recessive," she muttered, and he could feel her gaze going over his form critically.
"What?" he asked, looking up at her, confused.
"Recessive genes. Like blonde hair," she tugged a strand, "and the green eyes, though green isn't necessarily recessive, blue is, but she always said that I had your smile, not that she really ever got to see you smile. She said I was lucky I didn't have your forehead," she laughed slightly, and he could see both of them in her face, now that he was looking for it. "Sorry, biology has always interested me, probably because of my heritage."
"That's okay," he said, looking down at the teen he now knew to be his daughter.
She titled her head to the side in a manner that made him think of all the brainless girls he had known throughout his long life, "Would you like to join us for dinner? It's…" she thought a moment, "Friday, so Dad's making sushi. Oh, but then you might not eat-"
"I'm human," he said, and he couldn't help but smile at the delighted look on her face. "Well, I'm not Joe Normal, but my heart beats, and I need to breathe."
"When?" she asked.
"Just after the battle that took her…" his face darkened.
"It doesn't need to beat to hurt," she said wisely, "She came and saw me right before…she told me she loved me, that she couldn't be prouder of me. I didn't know then what she had planned. I was five when she took on the First Evil, six when you destroyed Los Angeles, and almost nine when she…But I know I can't live on maybes and ifs. What would I have been able to do, anyway? It would still be years at that point before my more…fascinating genes decided to be turned on and expressed. I got to know her for eight years, which is more than I would have gotten to if it hadn't been for my parents being so understanding.
"Please say you'll come to dinner. You can't imagine what it's been like these past seventeen years, only knowing half of who I am, where I came from."
"But your parents-"
"Have been dying to meet you just as much as I have. Not literally, of course. Please?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he had plans for that evening, not that he could tell this girl of his plans, of getting piss drunk and finally taking that blade to his wrists… to tell her he didn't eat fish, didn't really eat meat anymore… Because he didn't want to tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her that getting to know her, hell, just looking at her opened all the old wounds again, the wounds that had never healed. But looking at her, he just couldn't do it.
"If you're certain your parents wouldn't mind…"
"Not at all!" she said exuberantly, linking her arm through his, dragging him along with her. She was surprisingly strong he couldn't help but think. As she chattered along, he almost told her that he had changed his mind. She was so much like her mother, it hurt so much…
But he forced himself to tune into the conversation, "Mom and Dad are going to be so excited to finally meet you. They had, of course, heard of Buffy, because Mom was raised along with a potential slayer so she knew all about demons and slayers. But you…you are more unique than any slayer, even Buffy. It doesn't matter that she changed the rules. You are the Vampire With a Soul. You are the outcast that decided to fight for Good even though you still had evil tendencies. You are-"
"I'm not any of that anymore," he said gruffly.
"Well, of course," she said, startled.
"Tell me a bit more about yourself," he said quickly, and she launched into that topic.
"I was born September 3rd, 1997, and I grew up right here in L.A. I'm pretty much a straight A student, right now I'm in my senior year of high school, and I'm probably going to be a biology major. I want to do a study, you see, on slayers. I get that there's magic and supernatural and paranatural or paranormal and a whole bunch of unnatural stuff out there, but there has to be a scientific reason for why certain girls are chosen as slayers. There have to be DNA markers or a specific gene or something. I want to figure out why some girls are chosen and others aren't. It's really going to help that there are more slayers now, thanks to Buffy. But even now, the numbers are declining. Not so many girls are being chosen, and they're not sure why. And not only would this test be able to determine from infancy which girls are going to be chosen or not, but it would also potentially allow the Council to deactivate slayers after a time. If I could figure out what causes the gene to turn on and express itself, whether it's supernatural or just hormonal, then if it was a hormone thing, then we could find or even produce a substrate or whatnot that would bind to the hormone reactor instead of this hormone so that the genes would be turned off. Theoretically, of course."
"But why, if less girls are becoming slayers, would they want to deactivate some?" he asked, not completely sure he had followed the conversation. "And I thought they had already come up with a drug that would stop the slayer from being able to use her powers."
"The Cruceme…something, yeah. But that's injection after injection…if this substrate or whatnot could be made to be fat soluble, then it would be one injection. And this is all future type stuff. Hopefully they can figure out why less and less girls are being called. But with the technology they have now, once we find out the gene that causes slayerness, then we could create girls just to be the slayer. Not cloning, but part of it would be cloning, and it's kinda complicated, I'm not really sure I understand it all," she smiled up at him, "I'm taking an advanced Biology class at the community college."
"You seem very knowledgeable on the subject."
She blushed, "I guess it all comes from the wanting to know what makes me different."
"You don't-"
"Don't even start. I am different. It wasn't until I was thirteen did it start to show itself, but what else would you expect from the offspring of a vampire and a slayer? I heal faster than just about anybody I know. And I'm stronger. Not slayer strong, I'm not a slayer, Mom had me tested, but what teenage girl do you know that can do fifty pushups in a minute without breaking a sweat? What teenage girl do you know that can do 120 sit-ups in the same amount of time without any effort at all?"
"Well, I don't know many teenaged girls," he said, and was rewarded with a laugh.
"We did all these mystical tests, and I'm a normal seventeen-year-old girl. But at the same time, I'm not. I've been taking shotokan karate ever since we moved back into the city after the demons left. I am the youngest black belt in the school," she said quietly, before she stopped walking, "I just want to know why. I don't care that I'm different, I'm happy just the way I am. But I want to know why. I've always wanted to know why." She looked at the house they were standing in front of, "Please don't tell my parents. They're already worried enough about me as it is. They promised Buffy, you see, that they would give me a normal life. And they're afraid they broke their promise, that they dishonored their vow. But they didn't. I have a normal life. Mostly," she corrected herself.
"I promise," he said.
"Good," she gave him a bright smile and bounded up the steps. She had a grace about her, he realized now, a grace he hadn't seen on anyone since her mother.
He followed her as she held the door open for him. She was yelling in Japanese, he knew enough of the language to know she was telling her mother she was home.
And then a woman was coming into the front hall, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. The girl hugged the much shorter woman quickly, before turning to introduce them, "Momma, this is Angel. Angel, I'd like you to meet my mother, Janet Lee."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee," he said, offering his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Angel. We have heard much about you. Come in, come in. Dad's just about done making supper," she said to Alyssa, "Can you set the table?"
"Of course, Mom," she said, heading deeper into the house.
"Make yourself at home, Mr. Angel," Janet said.
"It's just Angel," he said as he followed them into the house.
Before he knew it they were all sitting down at the table and they were passing around plates of freshly made sushi.
"This is the best sushi I've had in a long time," he complimented Mr. Lee.
"See, I told you," Alyssa said, grabbing another piece with her chopsticks.
"I'm glad you like it, Angel," he said, "I always thought that it was the usual teenager business of wanting something. Buttering me up before asking for something," he shared a knowing look with Angel.
"I don't do that!" Alyssa cried, "I never do that!"
"Of course you don't," he said.
"Hey!"
They talked about a lot of things that night, from Alyssa's progress in school to her parents' jobs and they even asked a bit about what Angel was doing. They didn't pry when he didn't really want to go into it. He couldn't tell these people that he did nothing but spend his days in a drunken stupor, trying to forget her. They stayed at the table long after the sushi was gone, sipping saki and talking.
"It's really great to finally meet you," Janet said at one point, "Alyssa has always expressed an interest in knowing both her parents. I hope I'm not being to forward, but I hope that you will take some time to get to know her. She can be a pain, but she's usually a sweet girl."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Alyssa said, glaring at her mother. But Angel could tell that she was happy where she was. She was loved and well adjusted and he couldn't fault Buffy with her choice of parents, even if he had an inkling that Giles had helped her.
"Well, I should get going," he said finally, looking at the clock to realize that it was a lot later than he expected. On any other night he would have been drinking for three or four hours now. The nights were always worse without her.
"Let me drive you home," Alyssa said before turning to her parents, "Please?"
"Of course-"
"That's okay, I don't live far from here, and after such a good meal, I'm afraid I ate more than I should. I can walk it off."
"But you're-" Alyssa started.
"There hasn't been anything that could best me since-" he stopped, shocked at what he was about to say, "I'm not afraid of death," he said softly, hoping she wouldn't guess at his previous thoughts.
"I don't blame you. You're living a half life without her," Alyssa said softly, and he looked at her, wondering how she could have so much insight.
He smiled at her, a half smile that didn't reach his eyes, but it warmed her that he had tried for her sake, "It's suddenly become a whole lot fuller than I originally thought," he told you. "Do you, ah, want to get breakfast some morning before school? Or we could go out and get something to eat some night."
"I'd really like that," she said, smiling at him.
"Good night. Nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Lee."
"It was our pleasure!" the couple said, clearing the table.
"Be careful," Alyssa said, standing in the doorway as he stood outside on the porch.
"Now I have a reason to be," he said. She gifted him with a smile before impulsively hugging him. He held her a moment before letting her go. "Good night," he said before turning and starting down the steps.
"Goodnight!" she called, and he could feel her eyes on him until he turned the corner.
Walking along in the dark, he smiled to himself. Who would have thought that even all these years after her death, Buffy would never stop surprising him? Who would have thought that even from the grave, she would make his life worth living again?
END