Disclaimer: "Not mine" pretty much sums it up.
A/N: Heard the phrase 'love conquers all' thrown around recently, and randomly started thinking about how it would probably drive Buffy mad (oh no, this couldn't possibly have anything to do with my brain automatically connecting just about everything I hear to BtVS...). And voila, out came a short. But I didn't feel like working with the depressingness of canon, so I worked it into this AU, where there's actually hope. And that's where the first scene of the chapter came from. An after that, we finally get some action.
Chapter Three: Amour Vincit Omnia?
Early January
When school restarted, they began reading Canterbury Tales in English. Buffy paid about as much attention as she ever did – i.e. not a whole lot.
So she was spacing out as her teacher dissected the introduction of the travelers, pointing out the hidden ironies and subtle cynicism apparent from the details provided about each character.
Yet somehow she happened to take note of the analysis of the Nun's description. "Her pin, 'amour vincit omnia,' is Latin for 'love conquers all'. This is one of Chaucer's subtle ways of poking fun at the state of the Church; it's hardly the most appropriate slogan for someone supposed to be pledged to a life of chastity. Notice also her clothes…," Ms. Murray explained.
And then Buffy lost track of the class again. But the one phrase stuck in her mind. "Love conquers all." What a cliché! How many times had she heard that phrase thrown about?
She laughed mirthlessly. Not only was it an overused axiom of very little substance, it was dead wrong.
If only it were that simple, she thought wistfully. Love was the easy part. It didn't stop the obstacles that life inevitably threw up.
A year ago, she might have – no, would have – believed it. She envied her younger self that naivety. She thought she'd lost her innocence when she became the Slayer. She didn't know how horribly mistaken she was until her remaining comfortable illusions were ripped away and her world turned upside down a second time.
By now, though, she'd learned all too well that love doesn't conquer all. It didn't conquer a thing, only caused more complications. Take it from one whose curse it was to love too much, too desperately.
("Do you love me?"
"I love you. I don't know if I trust you.")
When it came down to it, the world doesn't give a damn about love, she reflected. No amount of love could stop issues from arising, and it took lots of other qualities to break them down. Loving did about as much good as wishing when it came to facing the challenges of the real world. (Possibly less; she thought she'd once heard Giles mention something about wish-granting demons.)
("Am I a thing worth saving, huh? Am I a righteous man? The world wants me gone!"
"What about me? I love you so much... And I tried to make you go away... I killed you and it didn't help. And I hate it! I hate that it's so hard... and that you can hurt me so much. I know everything that you did, because you did it to me. Oh, God! I wish that I wished you dead. I don't. I can't.")
After all, if love truly had such miraculous powers, the past year wouldn't have been such misery. Finding pleasure on her last birthday wouldn't have resulted in such catastrophic aftermath. She wouldn't have been forced to send Angel to Hell and to spend the next months running from her ghosts and trying to forget her previous life. They wouldn't have spent the time after his miraculous return denying their feelings, fearful of themselves and each other. They wouldn't have so many issues between them that, even now, after the revelations of Christmas, they were half-terrified to try and move forward again. Said revelations would actually have changed something. She wouldn't be unable to look Giles in the eye when she asked for research help to attempt to make things right, or scared to tell her friends of her renewed relationship with Angel, knowing they would react with hurried, harsh judgment.
…On the other hand, maybe she was being a little harsh. (Blame it on frustration. She hated 'slow'. Always had.) Remembering that renewed hope that had come since Christmas, in spite of all the challenges still ahead, maybe love did count for something. Sure, there was no quick fix. It didn't stop obstacles from blocking the way, but it could provide a reason to break them down, the strength to keep fighting the problems life threw at you.
Maybe that's what it really meant. Maybe she'd been a bit hasty in her condemnation. …Or maybe it really was the insipid scrap of 'conventional wisdom' she initially took it for. But if she could get a little wisdom from it, then that was all the better, surely. She just needed to remember not to despair. Now more than ever, there was still reason to hope.
("Forever. That's the whole point.")
As it turned out, Buffy plus Angel plus taking things slow wasn't a very successful combination. The taking it slow policy was strained from day one. Every day was fighting the ever-growing pull of temptation. Which they probably should have been able to guess beforehand, only they'd been trying to avoid thinking of that sort of thing. If there was one thing the two of them were experts at, it was denial. (Or, ya know, there was that whole demon-killing thing too.)
In a way she was almost amazed at how much they got through. Particularly her nearly getting burned at the stake; that was definitely provoking of panic and loss of control in reunion relief.
In the end, though, it took less than two weeks for their resolve to break down. There wasn't even any big drama, just an ordinary night after coming back from patrol. That first time was best described as a mistake. Not that it was wrong. But they'd been trying to avoid rushing ahead like that. But 'we really shouldn't' proved not to be nearly as effective a reason to stop as 'there could be cataclysmic consequences' had been, and too soon all restraint was lost.
They were hanging out at the mansion, something they'd been doing for a little while to try to get comfortable around each other again. (Not that either of them honestly believed comfortable was coming, but that was pretty much numbered among the facts they did their best to ignore.)
She was laying back on one end of the couch, messing with her hair. He was sitting on the other side, reading something or other assuredly very old in a language that may or may not have been English but she wouldn't be able to understand either way.
And then she looked up at precisely the wrong moment to find him watching her with such blatant hunger that she couldn't help but shiver under the scrutiny – and feel her body burst into flame in response. She fought to remain calm, to not betray her involuntary response. But the battle was lost almost before it began.
That was it. A glance, a touch, too many, and they were falling out of control and into passion once more.
The next morning, though, was another thing entirely. She woke slow and confusedly, the awkward situation at once familiar and so different.
And her joy to find him still with her! She hadn't realized until then that she'd half-expected him to be gone. Sure, she knew intellectually that he couldn't turn again, but subconsciously she couldn't quite believe it, and her heart was still scared.
As always, he knew her far too well, and understood exactly what was worrying her.
"It's okay, he soothed her. "You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going anywhere. I can't leave you."
She clung to him, looked up with teary green eyes. "I know that," she replied. "I just don't know how to trust to it. I've spent so long being scared, I don't know how to convince myself it can be alright now."
He didn't have a reply to that. Nothing but time could heal some wounds. But it killed him inside to see her hurting and not be able to help her, and even more to know he was responsible for this scar on her soul. He wished he could promise never to hurt her again, but he'd been around long enough to know there was no way to guarantee that. Instead, he just held her tighter.
That morning, they gave themselves to each other – a comfort, a promise, a dedication. It wasn't nearly enough to heal the wounds between them, they had no illusions about that, but it was a start. And the rest, they knew now, they would work out together.
The first time was a mistake, though not one to be regretted. But the second time … the second was absolution.
