TITLE: The Measure of a Man
AUTHOR: Ten
RATING: PG 13
PAIRING: Angel/Buffy
SUMMARY: Angel chooses to remain human in "I Will Remember You" instead of asking the Oracles to take back the day. The story includes Holtz, Connor, James, Buffy, Doyle, the Angel Investigations gang and changes that might have occurred because of his decision.
SPOILERS: Up to season 6 on Buffy and episode Sleep Tight" on Angel
FEEDBACK: is joyously welcomed - this is my first fanfic!
DISCLAIMER: All characters and some of the storyline belong to the god which is Joss Whedon (all hail and bow low before him, I sure do), and WB, UPN, ME and some other people, but not me. I just enjoy playing with them for my own personal, greedy gratification. :-)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thank you Ditto & PK, my fellow Spikettes, for your encouragement and efforts to turn me into a bonafide fanfic addict and, now, an aspiring writer
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Chapter 1
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-MARCH 2002-
-----------------------------
The last remnants of golden light reflected off the now cold, watery horizon leaving dull reflections on Angel's pain-stricken face. It had been slow coming, this everlasting sunset. It seemed to deliberately keep him from the solace he sometimes found in this tiny, unusually private corner of the strand. Though he came often in daylight, he preferred the cover of darkness, a cold comfort from a centuries old habit. When he needed alone time, this is where he would come and stare into day's end as if he were staring into some distant past to watch it unfold or somehow change it. From here he could still see the bridge where he and Buffy had first kissed in sunlight. If he tried hard enough, he could still see a shadowy reflection of them standing there, bathed in the glow of midday, experiencing the first moments of their new life together, warm and full of promise.
Now, more than two years later, he hadn't thought it possible he could feel so much pain and still survive. Even breathing had become a labor. In truth, it was a living testament to his determination and strength that he survived at all, but every day his heart became heavier, his tasks more difficult, and his life had become what seemed like ceaseless pain. Once he had become human, his life both began and ended. Once he had become a father, it began and ended once again. So much joy. So much loss. So much pain. And in the deep recesses of Angel's mind played long ago words from a man who insisted strength grew from adversity, "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands in moments of challenge and controversy." Of course, that man was dead now, and in so many ways, so was he. Angel lay down in the wet sand, looking up into the heavens, and covered his eyes with his left arm.
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-SEPTEMBER 2001 - Los Angeles-
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"Get up, Mr. Lazy!" Buffy padded across the cool, wooden floor of their new flat, wrapped in a towel, wet hair dripping down her back and leaving a little droplet trail behind her. "Come on! Wesley said we should be there by 9!" As Angel groaned and turned over rebelliously, she forced the issue by ripping open the heavy drapes and flooding the bed, and Angel, with sunlight.
"Argh! Buffy!! Come on, it's only--"
"It's 8:45 and no you don't!" She snagged the covers before he could bury himself beneath them again. "Come on, Angel, this is a big client. We need to make a good impression if we want to be able to pay for this Southern California lifestyle."
Reluctantly he rolled out of the enormous four-poster bed and plunked to the floor, pledging silently to remind Wesley how off-putting these early meetings were. Staggering to the bathroom he playfully swatted Buffy's shapely behind and mumbled something about 'nice hair', which was quickly met with, "Speak for yourself, Bedhead." Looking into his mirror Angel couldn't argue. His hair had obviously been styled by the passionate midnight tumblings of Hurricane Buffy. Though it was rather ghastly to look at, the reason behind it made him smile and glance toward her. She was amazing. Hard and soft at the same time, painfully strong but able give herself over completely to love and passion. He never looked at her that he didn't want her, to be touching her, to be inside her. He wanted to breathe her into him and hold her there, letting each of their atoms mix and scatter until they were indiscernible from each other. She was such a miraculous creature, and yet, there she was, bent over drying her hair upside-down, completely unaware of his expression, the emotion rising in his throat, much less his train of thought. Fifteen minutes wasn't very much time, but ...
He slipped behind her and freed her from the towel, pressing his hips against the warm, soft flesh of her backside and trailing his fingertips up her bare back. On the surface, she ignored him and continued drying her hair, but inside she felt that rush of excitement that always accompanied his touch. In the two years he had been human, that thrill had not diminished in the slightest. She had thought that over time, their hunger for one another might lessen a little, but that had not been the case at all. In fact, it had seemed to her that they became more passionate over time rather than less.
His warm hands slid down her sides, his fingers spread to feel every inch of her he possibly could, peppering her back with the airy brush of his lips on her spine. He was rewarded with a tiny sigh of contentment from her. They were going to be late for that meeting.
Bursting through the door of the old hotel at 9:35, they were carrying coffee and a huge box of donuts. Cordelia looked up to scold them just as Buffy presented her with the prized jelly-filled. "You're forgiven," and she dug in, mumbling to them with raspberry filling running out of the corner of her mouth. "Day alweady stawted," and she tossed her head toward the main conference room.
Angel Investigations had gone through a staggering metamorphosis when Angel became human. True, he had lost his superhuman strength, but he had gained the ability to work in daylight, an advantage most LA beasties did not have. He was still strong, and with his crack back-up team watching each other's backs, serious injuries were rare. Buffy, of course, had been an invaluable addition to the firm when she decided not to return to Hellmouth central. Having the Slayer around had saved their hides more than once and had been a wonderful boon for the business, not to mention Angel personally. Wesley had joined them a year later with his traveling library of reference material and infinite knowledge that seemed useless to most people and priceless to those fighting the good fight. Doyle's visions kept them up on the newest baddies. Lorne and Fred had been invited to become a permanent part of the team after their netherworld trip. Cordelia had been able to capture an ongoing, featured role on a sci-fi series, which gave her access to a never-ending supply of make-up and special effects for those undercover projects that crept up now and then, but still gave her time to work with the LA Scoobies.
The reputation of Angel Investigations had increased exponentially, as had their effectiveness and profitability, as they quickly became the premiere organization for battling the unexplainable phenomena that seemed to perpetually plague Los Angeles. Buffy replaced Angel as the muscle of the group, Angel himself became the magnetic field which bound them together in the midst of chaos, and the entire team had begun to function like a well-oiled machine. They were happy. All of them. It was perfect. Except when they were late.
"Nice of you to join us." Wesley Wyndam Price smirked at the pair and introduced them to the businessmen at the conference table. Once settled in, explanations were made, negotiations discussed, and it was agreed that Angel Investigations could remain in the hotel indefinitely while remodeling was completed in exchange for some side work for the construction company which was having difficulty with it's employees vanishing in a particularly secuded area of another project.
Hands were shaken, checks written, smiles exchanged, and everyone seemed pleased with the arrangement. After the clients left, Wesley lifted an eyebrow at the pair and let out a little sigh. "At least try to appear penitent when you're that late. Now, let's get to work," and with that the group dove into research on the mysterious disappearance of seven construction workers on the vamp side of town. The day's plans changed as Doyle collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands and screaming in pain.
--------------------
-1760-
--------------------
Holtz lifted his head from his hands once again, and stared into the fireplace, trying not to equate it with his sweet daughter bursting into flames earlier that day. The monsters that had murdered his wife and infant son had done their worst by turning his 7-year-old daughter into creatures like themselves. She did not understand what happened to her. She did not understand why her beloved father threw her to her death in the bright morning sunlight. Her piteous words would echo in his mind for all eternity, as would the faces of those who did this to him and his once happy family.
He paced through the small cottage, like a restless animal looking for food, or a bird in search of nesting, or a father in search of his revenge. He had to do something, he couldn't let his family be destroyed and then do nothing about it. He finally stopped in the nursery. Staring at the empty, rumpled bed that belonged to his daughter, he approached it and then turned to the small crib of his murdered son. There was not even bedding in it, only the cold wood framework where his son once slept, replaced now with a cold wooden box buried in the ground where he would sleep for all eternity. He returned to the room carrying the empty cradle, intending to toss it into the fire and burn the painful reminder, but instead he simply stood before the fireplace silently transfixed by the flames and drowning in the sorrow and hatred he felt toward the creatures that had destroyed his life. He would hunt them down and massacre them.
There was a flicker of bluish light behind him and the demon appeared, taunting him with the promise of exacting revenge on those who destroyed him. He didn't need to think about it for even a moment's time. He set the cradle down and joined Sahjhan, vanishing in a doorway of time, his eyes still focused on the empty cradle he was leaving behind.
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-FEBRUARY 2002 - Los Angeles-
------------------------------------------
Wesley gently but swiftly lifted Connor from the bassinet and left the old hotel. As much as he hated to betray Angel, he knew if he didn't all would be lost and the prophecy would be fulfilled -- "The Father will kill The Son."
In the months since Buffy had died Angel had been on an emotional roller coaster. He was devastated by her death. No matter how many times they had insisted to him that he had no control over the madman who murdered her, Angel knew that his association with him in the distant past brought it full circle. He blamed himself for everything.
Lost and vulnerable, Angel had been susceptible to Darla when she seemingly appeared from nowhere. She took one look at her "darling boy" and knew it was their time to be together again, now that the Slayer was out of his life forever. It was too easy for him to fall into a pattern of seeking her approval, he had done so for much of his vampire life. She was his sire and his confidant and his lover for well over a century. He was a tasty morsel ready for her to devour. Darla drew him into her bed, presenting him with a tempestuous night of angry, violent lust and ultimately urging him to let her turn him so they could be what they once were
He awakened from their night together a changed man, but still human, more focused on his life and purpose ahead, and more able to accept whom he had chosen to be. He rejected her completely and had sent her packing.
Angel had no idea that a vampire could become pregnant. Along with everyone else, Angel was stunned to see her four months later enormously pregnant. She claimed he was the child's father, but the timing was off. It hadn't been that long, but yet it seemed as if the baby had developed at twice the rate of a human child. She insisted that she was just as puzzled as everyone else as to how it happened. It made no sense and even after the child was born, it remained a mystery. Darla sacrificing herself to give birth to the boy had confirmed to Angel what he had known all along, he was to raise his son alone. It had been difficult for him, but the love and help of his friends had made it easier on the former vampire. Still, the prophecy insisted that Connor was in danger and Wesley couldn't continue to see this child, who because of his heritage must be important to the world, living at such risk.
Hours later, as Angel lay crumpled in the darkened, burning street of LA, he was lost once again in the anguish of loss. Wesley had not only failed to protect Connor, he had all but given him to Holtz, and Holtz had taken the boy and leaped into an unknown hell dimension summoned by Sahjhan, who himself seemed very pleased with the outcome. Angel, lost in the agony of losing his son in the glowing vortex, lifted his head just in time to see it close and vanish, leaving behind the residual flames of the explosions.
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-1760-
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In what seemed like a burst of flames, Holtz appeared back in his cabin, the fire still burning just as he had left it. In his arms was the bundle he had traveled across time to claim. He set the squirming child in his dead son's cradle and left the room, returning minutes later with a packed satchel and a torch. Lighting it from the fireplace he went about the cabin setting everything on fire, all furniture, clothing, all evidence that he and his family had ever lived there. All of it was set to burn. Holtz lifted the cradle into one arm, hoisted the satchel on his shoulder and left the burning house.
Once outside, he tossed the satchel into the hitched wagon, gently lowered the cradle near the driver's seat and climbed in himself. Reigns at the ready, he didn't look at his home, now engulfed in flames and crumbling on it's meager foundation. He turned the cart around and rode away, all the while talking to the unsettled baby in the cradle at his feet.
"Now, my son, your name is Steven James Holtz. You are my son. You were fortunate enough to escape the massacre of your mother and sister by demons who will dearly pay for what they have done. And we will have a happy, quiet life together -- hunting them."
The collapsing house behind them could scarcely be heard over the pounding of horses' hooves thundering into the hard dirt road in a hurried journey to their new life.
===========================================================
Chapter 2 ------------------------
AUTHOR: Ten
RATING: PG 13
PAIRING: Angel/Buffy
SUMMARY: Angel chooses to remain human in "I Will Remember You" instead of asking the Oracles to take back the day. The story includes Holtz, Connor, James, Buffy, Doyle, the Angel Investigations gang and changes that might have occurred because of his decision.
SPOILERS: Up to season 6 on Buffy and episode Sleep Tight" on Angel
FEEDBACK: is joyously welcomed - this is my first fanfic!
DISCLAIMER: All characters and some of the storyline belong to the god which is Joss Whedon (all hail and bow low before him, I sure do), and WB, UPN, ME and some other people, but not me. I just enjoy playing with them for my own personal, greedy gratification. :-)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thank you Ditto & PK, my fellow Spikettes, for your encouragement and efforts to turn me into a bonafide fanfic addict and, now, an aspiring writer
===========================================================
Chapter 1
-----------------------------
-MARCH 2002-
-----------------------------
The last remnants of golden light reflected off the now cold, watery horizon leaving dull reflections on Angel's pain-stricken face. It had been slow coming, this everlasting sunset. It seemed to deliberately keep him from the solace he sometimes found in this tiny, unusually private corner of the strand. Though he came often in daylight, he preferred the cover of darkness, a cold comfort from a centuries old habit. When he needed alone time, this is where he would come and stare into day's end as if he were staring into some distant past to watch it unfold or somehow change it. From here he could still see the bridge where he and Buffy had first kissed in sunlight. If he tried hard enough, he could still see a shadowy reflection of them standing there, bathed in the glow of midday, experiencing the first moments of their new life together, warm and full of promise.
Now, more than two years later, he hadn't thought it possible he could feel so much pain and still survive. Even breathing had become a labor. In truth, it was a living testament to his determination and strength that he survived at all, but every day his heart became heavier, his tasks more difficult, and his life had become what seemed like ceaseless pain. Once he had become human, his life both began and ended. Once he had become a father, it began and ended once again. So much joy. So much loss. So much pain. And in the deep recesses of Angel's mind played long ago words from a man who insisted strength grew from adversity, "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands in moments of challenge and controversy." Of course, that man was dead now, and in so many ways, so was he. Angel lay down in the wet sand, looking up into the heavens, and covered his eyes with his left arm.
-------------------------------------------
-SEPTEMBER 2001 - Los Angeles-
-------------------------------------------
"Get up, Mr. Lazy!" Buffy padded across the cool, wooden floor of their new flat, wrapped in a towel, wet hair dripping down her back and leaving a little droplet trail behind her. "Come on! Wesley said we should be there by 9!" As Angel groaned and turned over rebelliously, she forced the issue by ripping open the heavy drapes and flooding the bed, and Angel, with sunlight.
"Argh! Buffy!! Come on, it's only--"
"It's 8:45 and no you don't!" She snagged the covers before he could bury himself beneath them again. "Come on, Angel, this is a big client. We need to make a good impression if we want to be able to pay for this Southern California lifestyle."
Reluctantly he rolled out of the enormous four-poster bed and plunked to the floor, pledging silently to remind Wesley how off-putting these early meetings were. Staggering to the bathroom he playfully swatted Buffy's shapely behind and mumbled something about 'nice hair', which was quickly met with, "Speak for yourself, Bedhead." Looking into his mirror Angel couldn't argue. His hair had obviously been styled by the passionate midnight tumblings of Hurricane Buffy. Though it was rather ghastly to look at, the reason behind it made him smile and glance toward her. She was amazing. Hard and soft at the same time, painfully strong but able give herself over completely to love and passion. He never looked at her that he didn't want her, to be touching her, to be inside her. He wanted to breathe her into him and hold her there, letting each of their atoms mix and scatter until they were indiscernible from each other. She was such a miraculous creature, and yet, there she was, bent over drying her hair upside-down, completely unaware of his expression, the emotion rising in his throat, much less his train of thought. Fifteen minutes wasn't very much time, but ...
He slipped behind her and freed her from the towel, pressing his hips against the warm, soft flesh of her backside and trailing his fingertips up her bare back. On the surface, she ignored him and continued drying her hair, but inside she felt that rush of excitement that always accompanied his touch. In the two years he had been human, that thrill had not diminished in the slightest. She had thought that over time, their hunger for one another might lessen a little, but that had not been the case at all. In fact, it had seemed to her that they became more passionate over time rather than less.
His warm hands slid down her sides, his fingers spread to feel every inch of her he possibly could, peppering her back with the airy brush of his lips on her spine. He was rewarded with a tiny sigh of contentment from her. They were going to be late for that meeting.
Bursting through the door of the old hotel at 9:35, they were carrying coffee and a huge box of donuts. Cordelia looked up to scold them just as Buffy presented her with the prized jelly-filled. "You're forgiven," and she dug in, mumbling to them with raspberry filling running out of the corner of her mouth. "Day alweady stawted," and she tossed her head toward the main conference room.
Angel Investigations had gone through a staggering metamorphosis when Angel became human. True, he had lost his superhuman strength, but he had gained the ability to work in daylight, an advantage most LA beasties did not have. He was still strong, and with his crack back-up team watching each other's backs, serious injuries were rare. Buffy, of course, had been an invaluable addition to the firm when she decided not to return to Hellmouth central. Having the Slayer around had saved their hides more than once and had been a wonderful boon for the business, not to mention Angel personally. Wesley had joined them a year later with his traveling library of reference material and infinite knowledge that seemed useless to most people and priceless to those fighting the good fight. Doyle's visions kept them up on the newest baddies. Lorne and Fred had been invited to become a permanent part of the team after their netherworld trip. Cordelia had been able to capture an ongoing, featured role on a sci-fi series, which gave her access to a never-ending supply of make-up and special effects for those undercover projects that crept up now and then, but still gave her time to work with the LA Scoobies.
The reputation of Angel Investigations had increased exponentially, as had their effectiveness and profitability, as they quickly became the premiere organization for battling the unexplainable phenomena that seemed to perpetually plague Los Angeles. Buffy replaced Angel as the muscle of the group, Angel himself became the magnetic field which bound them together in the midst of chaos, and the entire team had begun to function like a well-oiled machine. They were happy. All of them. It was perfect. Except when they were late.
"Nice of you to join us." Wesley Wyndam Price smirked at the pair and introduced them to the businessmen at the conference table. Once settled in, explanations were made, negotiations discussed, and it was agreed that Angel Investigations could remain in the hotel indefinitely while remodeling was completed in exchange for some side work for the construction company which was having difficulty with it's employees vanishing in a particularly secuded area of another project.
Hands were shaken, checks written, smiles exchanged, and everyone seemed pleased with the arrangement. After the clients left, Wesley lifted an eyebrow at the pair and let out a little sigh. "At least try to appear penitent when you're that late. Now, let's get to work," and with that the group dove into research on the mysterious disappearance of seven construction workers on the vamp side of town. The day's plans changed as Doyle collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands and screaming in pain.
--------------------
-1760-
--------------------
Holtz lifted his head from his hands once again, and stared into the fireplace, trying not to equate it with his sweet daughter bursting into flames earlier that day. The monsters that had murdered his wife and infant son had done their worst by turning his 7-year-old daughter into creatures like themselves. She did not understand what happened to her. She did not understand why her beloved father threw her to her death in the bright morning sunlight. Her piteous words would echo in his mind for all eternity, as would the faces of those who did this to him and his once happy family.
He paced through the small cottage, like a restless animal looking for food, or a bird in search of nesting, or a father in search of his revenge. He had to do something, he couldn't let his family be destroyed and then do nothing about it. He finally stopped in the nursery. Staring at the empty, rumpled bed that belonged to his daughter, he approached it and then turned to the small crib of his murdered son. There was not even bedding in it, only the cold wood framework where his son once slept, replaced now with a cold wooden box buried in the ground where he would sleep for all eternity. He returned to the room carrying the empty cradle, intending to toss it into the fire and burn the painful reminder, but instead he simply stood before the fireplace silently transfixed by the flames and drowning in the sorrow and hatred he felt toward the creatures that had destroyed his life. He would hunt them down and massacre them.
There was a flicker of bluish light behind him and the demon appeared, taunting him with the promise of exacting revenge on those who destroyed him. He didn't need to think about it for even a moment's time. He set the cradle down and joined Sahjhan, vanishing in a doorway of time, his eyes still focused on the empty cradle he was leaving behind.
------------------------------------------
-FEBRUARY 2002 - Los Angeles-
------------------------------------------
Wesley gently but swiftly lifted Connor from the bassinet and left the old hotel. As much as he hated to betray Angel, he knew if he didn't all would be lost and the prophecy would be fulfilled -- "The Father will kill The Son."
In the months since Buffy had died Angel had been on an emotional roller coaster. He was devastated by her death. No matter how many times they had insisted to him that he had no control over the madman who murdered her, Angel knew that his association with him in the distant past brought it full circle. He blamed himself for everything.
Lost and vulnerable, Angel had been susceptible to Darla when she seemingly appeared from nowhere. She took one look at her "darling boy" and knew it was their time to be together again, now that the Slayer was out of his life forever. It was too easy for him to fall into a pattern of seeking her approval, he had done so for much of his vampire life. She was his sire and his confidant and his lover for well over a century. He was a tasty morsel ready for her to devour. Darla drew him into her bed, presenting him with a tempestuous night of angry, violent lust and ultimately urging him to let her turn him so they could be what they once were
He awakened from their night together a changed man, but still human, more focused on his life and purpose ahead, and more able to accept whom he had chosen to be. He rejected her completely and had sent her packing.
Angel had no idea that a vampire could become pregnant. Along with everyone else, Angel was stunned to see her four months later enormously pregnant. She claimed he was the child's father, but the timing was off. It hadn't been that long, but yet it seemed as if the baby had developed at twice the rate of a human child. She insisted that she was just as puzzled as everyone else as to how it happened. It made no sense and even after the child was born, it remained a mystery. Darla sacrificing herself to give birth to the boy had confirmed to Angel what he had known all along, he was to raise his son alone. It had been difficult for him, but the love and help of his friends had made it easier on the former vampire. Still, the prophecy insisted that Connor was in danger and Wesley couldn't continue to see this child, who because of his heritage must be important to the world, living at such risk.
Hours later, as Angel lay crumpled in the darkened, burning street of LA, he was lost once again in the anguish of loss. Wesley had not only failed to protect Connor, he had all but given him to Holtz, and Holtz had taken the boy and leaped into an unknown hell dimension summoned by Sahjhan, who himself seemed very pleased with the outcome. Angel, lost in the agony of losing his son in the glowing vortex, lifted his head just in time to see it close and vanish, leaving behind the residual flames of the explosions.
--------------------
-1760-
--------------------
In what seemed like a burst of flames, Holtz appeared back in his cabin, the fire still burning just as he had left it. In his arms was the bundle he had traveled across time to claim. He set the squirming child in his dead son's cradle and left the room, returning minutes later with a packed satchel and a torch. Lighting it from the fireplace he went about the cabin setting everything on fire, all furniture, clothing, all evidence that he and his family had ever lived there. All of it was set to burn. Holtz lifted the cradle into one arm, hoisted the satchel on his shoulder and left the burning house.
Once outside, he tossed the satchel into the hitched wagon, gently lowered the cradle near the driver's seat and climbed in himself. Reigns at the ready, he didn't look at his home, now engulfed in flames and crumbling on it's meager foundation. He turned the cart around and rode away, all the while talking to the unsettled baby in the cradle at his feet.
"Now, my son, your name is Steven James Holtz. You are my son. You were fortunate enough to escape the massacre of your mother and sister by demons who will dearly pay for what they have done. And we will have a happy, quiet life together -- hunting them."
The collapsing house behind them could scarcely be heard over the pounding of horses' hooves thundering into the hard dirt road in a hurried journey to their new life.
===========================================================
Chapter 2 ------------------------