Chapter 9: Hath No Fury

Angel was still watching her. His eyes seemed to soften as he took in her distress. His brow creased a little.

She stopped backing away. She couldn't let misery overwhelm her now. She couldn't give into the darkness. She couldn't afford to run away.

"Why?" she asked suddenly. "Why can't you help me?"

His whole face shut down, the soft light going out of his eyes. "I can't help anyone," he said. "Just look at me."

"Who did this to you?" Her words came out in a whisper.

"You should really leave me alone. I told you I can't help."

"Not good enough," she snapped, feeling a welcome surge of anger at his apathy. Anger she could work with, she could use. "Don't you even care how I know you?"

"I can guess," he said.

"You can?" she said, surprised.

"You brought me to hell," he said. "That is where we are, right? I deserve to be here."

"I brought you to—" Buffy cut herself off, remembering the look on his face as Acathla opened its jaws and swallowed Angel whole. Panic raced through her. What if Angel had never actually escaped this place? What if this was the real Angel, gone for so many years he'd lost his memory of her?

"Have you...been here long?" she asked.

"You could say that." He almost made an expression. "But not here exactly. Hell's Kitchen."

"Ew." She crinkled her nose. "Please tell me that's not a real thing."

"New York City," he clarified.

New York. That meant pre-Sunnydale. Angel had told her very little about that time. But it explained why he didn't know her.

"Before we go any further, I'm just going to ask you a question." She waited until he was looking right into her eyes. "Do you have a sword?"

"A sword?"

"Yeah. Fancy handle, long blade. It slices, it dices?" She knew it was a long shot, but she wasn't going to waste a bunch of time poking around the corners of hell if he had what she needed again.

"I don't have anything," he said. "I can't—"

"No. Stop saying that. You can help me. Do you really think you have something better to do here? Plus, it's like your destiny."

A funny look crossed his face. "What?"

"Some really annoying guy is going to find you and bring you to me, so you can help me. There's a whole cross-country road trip and some borderline stalking in there, but let's not get lost in the details. Anyway, today's your lucky day, because now you can get a head start on the whole helping-me thing."

"My lucky day involves me going to hell?"

"Well, maybe not lucky in the traditional sense, but—"

The screaming had started again. This time it wasn't Willow. It sounded distinctly male and distinctly terrified.

Angel was looking at his shoes. Buffy rolled her eyes and took off in the direction of the horrifying sound.

In the pit of her stomach, she already knew it would be Xander. The michianius had left a trail of claw marks down his back and he was bleeding. His eye locked with hers. "Buffy!"

She ran shoulder-first this time, hoping she could smash through the invisible barrier like a door. Instead, she bounced back even harder.

Another Xander stood over her, wearing one of those button-up-and-T-shirt combos in crazy patterns that he used to favor and no eyepatch. He reached out a hand to help her up.

"So this is where you were headed," he said. "You coulda told me."

"No, I couldn't. It was part of the crazy rules."

"Right. Either that, or you knew I'd try to stop you."

Buffy bit her lip as the bloody Xander in the distance tried crawling away from the michianius demon on his hands and knees. He'd stopped screaming.

"How many times are you going to try to throw your life away on this guy?" teenage Xander asked.

"I don't expect you to understand."

"Oh, I understand. I know what it's like to lose the love of your life. Only mine isn't getting the return ticket like your boyfriends always do."

"Xander…"

"I know you feel like you have to do this. But have you stopped to consider that this is a hopeless case? That maybe it's time to let go, like I had to? Like Willow had to? Maybe this is what he deserves."

Buffy watched as the faraway Xander disappeared into the blackness. "To have his soul destroyed? How is that fair?"

"He told you himself. He's done plenty of damage with his soul." Xander was looking behind her, and Buffy turned around.

There was Angel, his long hair falling around his face as he drank from a man lying prone on the floor of some kind of diner. Nearby, an Angel with short, sleek hair turned to a tentacled demon and said coldly, "Take them all."

Buffy turned her back on the images. "I don't need to see this. I know Angel has made mistakes. What about the good he's done? Does that just not count?"

"Maybe it's not enough. Maybe he deserves to suffer."

"He has suffered. He spent 100 years here." Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Why can't you get over this? It's like 'kick his ass' all over again."

"You're still hung up on that, aren't you?" Xander said. "It's why you won't save me."

She heard Xander cry out one last time in distance. She turned her head toward the sound, and when she turned back, teenage Xander was gone.

The blackness surrounded her again. She was no closer to finding the sword, her friends had disappeared, and the despair was closing in, threatening to pull her under.

She only had one thing left.

†††

She wasn't surprised when Angel appeared again. He was sitting in a heap, looking as small and unobtrusive as possible in his ragged clothing. She sat down next to him.

"I asked before who did this to you," Buffy said by way of greeting. "But I know. You did. You put yourself in hell."

He didn't answer. He didn't even lift his head from where it rested on his arms.

"It wasn't just for what you did before the curse. You couldn't figure out how to live in the world. You screwed up."

He turned enough that she could see one brown eye looking at her.

"I know you can help me. But you have to believe it. You have to stop punishing yourself."

His eye closed. She watched him for a minute, then stood up and walked away.

†††

She didn't know where she was going. Just from black to lighter black. She chanted again in her head as she stepped: Buffy Summers, Buffy Summers, Buffy Summers.

A michianius demon appeared before her out of nowhere, looming over Willow's prone form.

These trials come from what is inside you.

She recognized them now, the black scars on her soul come to life. She could hold onto all these doubts and fears, regrets and recriminations, let them consume her, or she could kick some demon ass and make things better.

Buffy closed her eyes, breathed deep and kicked hard. She connected with a satisfying thwack. She smiled.

She started pummeling the demon as best she could. Her cold limbs felt weaker than usual, but the more she punched and kicked and bashed, the warmer she felt.

"Buffy!" Willow yelled. She managed to get to her feet, and she threw her own kick the demon's way. Buffy smiled wider.

The michianius roared when Buffy landed a direct hit to the stomach, knocking him over. From there, it was quick work to finish him off. His neck snapped with a crunch.

Buffy turned to Willow and squeezed her tight.

"I am so figuring out how to get through to the astral plane when I get home," Buffy said. "I miss you. I want us to be close again."

Willow smiled her sweetest smile. She faded quickly from view, but Buffy was left with a feeling of strength, almost as if her friend's spirit were still with her.

Now it was Xander's turn.

Her feet moved faster through the blackness. The second demon put up a struggle, but it was no match for Buffy. She jumped on its back like she'd done with the michianius on the street in Bucharest, and let it wear itself out in the struggle to break free.

Then with another crunch, it was over.

Xander was still bleeding, but he smiled as she approached and helped him to his feet. She hugged him gingerly. "That was a bit of a close call, Buff."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't understand before."

He nodded. "Let's talk about this all later," he said as he began to disappear. And she knew it wasn't really him, but a promise she was making to herself. Even after everything that had happened, her friends were a part of her that she didn't want to lose. It wouldn't be simple, but she thought maybe she was ready to let them back in.

The black around her seemed less black. She felt warm again, more like herself. She started walking, somehow knowing she was heading back to Angel. He had his own black scars they needed to deal with, but they would find the sword together. She knew it.

So when the blade sliced into her skin, it was a total surprise. She gasped as the blood welled up on her arm.

Another michianius demon grinned evilly at her as she whirled around. Behind him, Angel still sat in a heap.

The michianius began swinging its sword again — it was the sword, it had to be — and Buffy was so caught up in dodging its blows she could hardly think straight. The demon feinted and she fell for it, leaving one side completely open to his kick.

She fell to the ground, and for the second time in three days, she was under the foot of a michianius demon, pinned in place and struggling.

"Angel!" she yelled.

The demon loomed over her, growling. She looked up into its red eyes as it pressed its clawed foot even harder against her. The demon touched the point of the sword to her throat.

She could just make out Angel's hunched-over form in the distance. He wasn't getting up.