Title - Full Circle
Author – darkravine
Rating- MATURE - graphic violence, language and sex
Pairing- B/S, X/A, W/T
Summary - Post HB - Spike leaves Sunnydale and gets caught up in that pesky route of redemption, Buffy attempts to come to terms with her feelings, while a new evil arrives in Sunnydale.
Chapter 4: Old Acquaintances, Part 2
Anya stared blankly at the refrigerator that lay open before her. It wasn't that the rotting vegetables, moldy bread, mystery meat, and sour milk were unappealing, however, after all the vomiting Anya had been witness to in the past few days, her appetite was decidedly less aggressive. Practically nonexistent. With a "yech", she shut the refrigerator door and fixed herself a perfectly safe, non-fungus infested glass of water.
Xander walked in the kitchen and quickly threw his arms around her. Anya stiffened, but only temporarily, allowing herself to surrender to his embrace. He sighed against her, suddenly sounding so tired. She put the glass down and ran her fingers through his hair. "She still saying nothing's wrong?"
He pulled away and nodded. "Of course. Apparently now it's been upgraded to the week-long-type-of-flu." He laughed bitterly. "Since when did she start shutting us out? I mean, we're her friends. We care about her. And something is seriously wrong with her. Why won't she let us help figure it out?"
Anya looked away and shrugged. "Maybe she thinks that we have enough to deal with."
Xander sighed heavily. "Always the martyr. Figures." He started pacing around the kitchen. "At first I thought she was pregnant or something, and maybe she was too scared to tell us about it. But it's not that. Every time she gets sick, it's like an attack on her body. Almost like something is going through her. I can see it in the way she kind of braces herself."
She nodded, half-listening. "Listen, Xander. It's not that I don't care about Buffy, but I just care about us more. She obviously doesn't want our help. Maybe we should do as she asks and give her some space. And then we could have alone-time again."
Xander looked at her incredulously. "Buffy needs us now. And you want to leave her all alone…"
"She's not alone, Dawn's here –"
"… just so we can concentrate on our relationship stuff right now? An, I know the whole ex-demon thing puts a limit on your understanding of social behavior, but really. When someone needs help, you don't just abandon them because of your selfish needs."
"Yes you do." Buffy stood leaning in the doorway, her face pale but her look determined. "Xander, you can't do anything for me right now. If there was something you could do …" she trailed off, looking out the window. "You and Anya need each other right now. Go. Dawn's here to take care of me. And I don't want you feeling guilty or anything."
"But Buffy," he protested, "you don't even know who's doing this to you."
Buffy's jaw was set. "Yes, I do, actually." She looked down at the floor. "It's Warren. I was stupid. I underestimated him, thinking that he was just some geek. Now he has control."
Xander gazed over at her questioningly. "What makes you so sure it's Warren? And what exactly is he doing?"
Buffy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just know. Besides, Jonathan's missing. I have a bad feeling that Warren and that other guy are behind it. As for what he's doing, I have no idea. But I called someone."
Anya furrowed her brow. "Who did you call?"
As if on cue, a loud knock echoed though the house. Buffy looked at the door confused. "Wow, he's a day early," she said as she made her way over. As the door opened before her, she took a step back, revealing the man in front of her to Xander and Anya.
"Angel?" she breathed.
Xander bristled. "You called Angel?"
The man in question looked at Buffy morosely. "Can I come in?"
Buffy nodded absently, not taking her eyes off of his as he walked through the door. She couldn't help but notice the disheveled hair and clothes, and immediately knew something was wrong. Angel was never one to neglect his appearance. She watched as he nervously paced and eyed Xander and Anya wearily.
"I need to talk to you, Buffy. I know we said that we wouldn't meet like this, but I had to. Something's happened, something that I don't know how to deal with and why do you look like death's doormat?"
Buffy blinked dumbly, and she was vaguely aware that Xander was talking.
"You called Angel?" he repeated.
Buffy shook her head and tried to concentrate on the situation at hand. "No, I didn't call Angel." She took one of Angel's hands in her own. "What's happened?"
Angel looked over at Xander and Anya and Buffy followed suit. "Guys? Can Angel and I talk alone?"
Anya needed no further encouragement. She quickly grabbed Xander's hand and pulled him out the door as he sputtered incoherently.
Buffy brought her attention back to Angel. She stared at him uncertainly, her eyes full of concern and questions. Gently, she pulled him to the stairwell. "Come. Dawn's going to be home soon, and I don't want to be interrupted." He allowed her to lead him to her room, finding his way up the stairs slowly.
Buffy listened in silence as Angel relayed all of the events of the past year, eerily detached. He told her of his one incautious night with Darla, how Darla had returned nine months pregnant. How the birth of his son was prophesized. How heartbreaking it had been to see Darla plunge the stake into her own heart. The way the dust she was reduced to slipped through his fingers like nothing. The first time he saw his son, lying in the street as the rain fell on his face. How complete he felt, for the first time in his life, just being a father. He told her about Holtz, how he and Darla had killed his entire family. How he had vamped his daughter. Holtz's vendetta. Wesley's betrayal. And finally, how he had watched, helplessly, as Holtz took his son and jumped into the vortex of an unknown dimension.
"Wesley and Fred are trying to pinpoint exactly which dimension Sahjhan opened up, but even if they can find it, there's no way of telling if we can get into it, let alone if time passes the same way there. We've been going in circles for three weeks now, and it still hasn't brought me any closer to finding my son. I needed to get away … to talk to … you. Buffy, I know we haven't been close in the last couple of years. But part of me … God, most of me, will always love you. And I thought if I came here, it would help." He sat in her window sill, looking at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the wall, where it had resided most of the conversation.
Buffy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to cry for him, his loss, his hopelessness. Her heart ached for him, and she fought the impulse to take him in her arms. No. No good would come of that.
Another part of her was angry. Angry at him for waiting until now to tell her about everything. Angry that he had slept with Darla in the first place. She felt betrayed in the worst sense of the word. Her brain told her she had no right to feel that way. She and Angel hadn't been together in three years, if they ever truly had been together to begin with. He had no obligations to her, no reason to include her in his life anymore. But her heart nearly broke at the thought of him sleeping with Darla. She knew that he had slept with her before … before he had met her. But the knowledge that he had been able to move on, take comfort in someone else's arms, no matter how temporarily, cut her to the bone. Yeah, like I'm one to talk, she mentally admonished. I'm the one who's been sleeping with his progeny on a regular basis, and I'm upset over one night with his ex?
She raked her fingers through her chopped locks. She knew she was being totally childish. Angel had come here, grieving over the loss of his son, and all she could think about was how mad she was over his sexual exploits. She had no claim on him any longer; she was no longer in love with him. The truth of that slowly sunk in, and she was overwhelmed with sadness at the thought.
"Angel …" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She had no idea what to say.
His eyes locked onto hers, and something passed over his features. But before Buffy could contemplate what it had been, he had crossed the room to where she sat on the bed, kneeling before her like some knight paying homage to his queen. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, as he pressed his lips to hers. She started in surprise, but surrendered to him nonetheless, allowing his arms to encircle her and meeting his lips hungrily with her own. She rested her arms over his shoulders and linked her wrists behind his neck. Angel leaned into her, pushing her down onto her bed as he lay above her, his lips never leaving hers.
A nagging thought kept running through Buffy's head, and she fought to push it back down. But it would not be silenced. She turned her head away from him, breaking the kiss. "I can't … I can't. I'm sorry, Angel. It's just … so much has happened … I don't know … I …" She broke down into tears, her body shaking so much Angel was afraid she'd gone into convulsions. He quickly pulled her to him, hugging her to his chest.
"Shhh … I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to … Oh, God, Buffy. Please don't cry." He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to calm the storm that had taken up residence in Buffy's body. Eventually, her sobs were few and far between, and soon, they had altogether ceased. She pulled away from him, refusing to meet his eyes as she struggled for composure.
"It's all my fault. I didn't think. I'm just … really confused right now. I'm sorry."
Buffy looked up at him and put a finger to his lips to silence him. "It's ok. I'm ok. No worries." She smiled wanly and stood up.
He was in front of her before she could even get to the door. "Please … just tell me what's going on, Buffy. Something's not right with you. I could tell when I first walked in." He took one of her hands in his. "We used to be able to tell each other everything. You can talk to me."
Buffy hesitated, sizing up the man she had once loved. She found herself being led back to her bed, where they sat side by side. She took a deep breath, and started to talk. She told him about Warren and his scheme to undo the spell that had brought her back and how she was now being attacked by some sort of invisible force. Angel agreed with her on her theory that Warren was behind the current attacks, especially when she mentioned that Jonathan was missing. But when she was finished, he kept looking at her suspiciously.
"What?" she finally asked.
"I kind of get the feeling you're leaving something out," he said simply.
"I'm not."
"Buffy-"
"Look, if I wanted to tell you about it, I would have." He recoiled at her tone, hurt filling his eyes. Guilt washed over her then, and she softened. "Angel, it's not that I don't trust you. I just know that you're upset about Connor right now. The last thing you need is a pity party at Casa de Summers, starring yours truly. Besides, I don't think you'd be able to handle this, even if you weren't going through something right now."
"Buffy, whatever it is, I can handle it. Nothing you say can upset me more than I already am."
"I'm sleeping with Spike."
Angel wasn't one to react emotionally, or at all, for that matter, to most situations. Often, he would internalize, mull it over quietly, and come to an indifferent conclusion based on a rational summation of all the facts. He had relied on this method for over eighty years without incident, and he had no intention of changing his methods anytime soon. But when Buffy had said … that, he felt his inner-demon clawing for release, and whatever grace and dignity he had hoped for in this conversation quickly flew out the window.
"You slept with who?" His words were quiet, but laced with barely controlled fury.
Buffy clamped her jaw shut and shook her head. "See? I knew I shouldn't have said anything-"
Angel grabbed her by the shoulders and watched her expression change from frustrated to fearful. Her eyes widened in surprise as he shook her roughly. "Are you insane! Do you have any idea what the hell Spike is capable of?"
She glared back at him with dead eyes, recovering from the initial shock of his anger. "Of course I know what he's capable of!" she snapped. "How can you even ask me something like that? Besides, he's … different now."
"Buffy, no chip can change what he is. He's still a demon. Now, if he had-"
"A soul? Like you have?" Her eyes were black pools of accusation. "Funny, having a soul didn't seem to stop you from tearing out my heart and leaving me by the curbside." Her shoulders slumped, vulnerability invading her small persona. "You left, and now he left. And I can't even explain it to myself. Why do I even care, right? He's just … Spike, and I should be happy he's gone. No more worrying about what stupid scheme he's brewing up now. No more having to explain to my friends where I've been for the past 10 hours. No more stinking of cigarettes and bourbon. But I just feel so lost now. I find myself trying to justify everything he's done, and wondering if somehow, there is such a thing as a good vampire. But, of course, he's not even remotely good in the larger sense, just in the one that makes me feel all warm and tingly, and, oh God, I miss him-" Her voice broke, and she sank down onto her bed, dropping her face into her hands.
Angel listened to her cry, frozen in place as he was utterly unprepared for such a reaction. Eventually, he made his way over to her and threw his arms around her. When her sobs had quieted, she waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, she told him everything. She talked for what seemed like forever, and she was surprised when he didn't interrupt her.
"Say something," she said after there were no more words, and they had been engulfed in silence for several minutes. Minutes that felt like hours as his inscrutable eyes revealed nothing to her about how he felt.
"I'm too shocked to say anything," he replied. "I just never saw this coming. I mean, Willow mentioned that Spike had this strange infatuation with you last year, but she assured me in no uncertain terms that you did not return his feelings."
"I didn't plan this."
"I know. And my reaction was … well, let's just say unfair."
"To start."
He smiled. "Yes. But it doesn't mean I approve of all … this."
She smiled gently. "God, Angel, I don't even approve of all this. All I know is that it sucks. A lot. But it's too late now, anyway."
A shrill beeping sound filled the room, and Angel hurriedly pulled the pager out of his pocket and checked the number. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with hope and desperation, and Buffy realized what the numbers had meant.
"Connor …"
"Yeah," he said, instantly jumping to his feet. "Buffy, I'm sorry but I have to go."
"I know." She embraced him, and took a step away. "Go. I can handle things here."
"You know I love you, right?"
Buffy nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Me too. Now, go find your son."
Angel nodded gratefully before tearing out of her room. Shortly after, Buffy could hear the rev of his engine and the squeal of tires on pavement. Then, there was nothing but the calming sounds of night.
Willow entered the house at 7:26 am, careful to click the door shut behind her as quietly as possible. She hadn't intended on staying out so late, but one thing had led to another and suddenly she was wondering how one cup of coffee turned into a night out at the Bronze complete with many drinks and shameless grinding on the dance floor with Tara. She smiled to herself as she collapsed into the couch, remembering the way Tara had looked at her, the way she had felt when they started dancing, like they were the only two people in the world. She had just indulged herself in an intense fantasy of the NC-17 variety having to do with herself, Tara, and a vat of whipped cream when the front door opened. She blinked at the morning light streaming through, and gradually a figure appeared in the doorway, complete with baggage.
"Willow, I see you're awake. Now, do be of assistance and help me with my bags. They are quite heavy, and the flight was dreadfully long, not to mention the band of Puisie midgets I encountered on the way-"
"Pussy midgets?"
"Pyew-see midgets. I don't really want to get into it. Long story. Now," he said, stepping into the foyer. "Where is Buffy?"
Willow stared at him disbelievingly, shaking her head to clear the fog that was finally beginning to thin in her head. "Giles? What are you doing here?"
