Part Eleven

Even to her overly sensitive, supernaturally alert ears, Buffy could now move silently. Considering how strong she was thanks to the combined essences of the vampire and the slayer inside of her, she was curious if any creature – either human or otherworldly – would be able to detect her simply by using their sense of sound. She was pretty sure such a task would be nearly impossible. Rather, both friends and enemies alike would have to use their other senses, mainly sight and smell, to locate her, and, until more information about her recent transformation was available to the general demonic population, the blonde was also positive that her scent would only prove confusing to her enemies. It was just one more advantage the clause had provided her with.

Mutely, she turned the key, unlocking Angel's front and only door. As she stepped through the shadowy entrance, the lights in the apartment dimmed for their vampiric awareness, Buffy realized that she could also consider the small flat her own home now, too, for there was no way she would be going back to live with her mother. Even if she wanted to, such an idea would have been impossible. Besides, so many things had changed since the night of her birthday, a mere 48 hours prior, that the last thing she could have done was leave the man she loved.

Closing the door behind her, the slayer glanced up and realized that she wasn't alone. She had thought that she would beat Angel back that evening, or, maybe, she had just hoped that she would. Her reasons for wanting a few solitary moments before the souled vampire returned home had nothing to do with a desire to keep or hide anything from him. Rather, she had just wanted a few moments to gather herself, to collect her thoughts, to re-center her overwhelming emotions. It took all of her self control to reign herself in, and, while she knew such censoring wasn't required or even preferred by Angel, she needed to do it for her own peace of mind.

But he didn't pressure her to talk as she fully entered the room. In fact, he kept his own gaze downcast, attempting to appear completely absorbed by the open book in his left hand. He allowed her the privacy of mind to both let her guard down and balance her thoughts and emotions at the same time. She moved throughout the small space, kicking off her shoes, tossing aside her various weapons, and hanging up her long coat without her vampire lover saying even a single word, and the fact that he had given her such space to herself made her realize it was the very last thing she actually wanted.

Curling up beside the souled demon on the chair he occupied, the eternal seventeen year old snuggled into her boyfriend's side, lifting the arm he was using to hold his novel and placing it around her slight form. Her head dropped to his shoulder, the place where she always felt the most comfortable and secure, and she practically purred in contentment. Angel's response was to just hold her a little tighter. Still, his actions weren't compelling, just reassuring.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything," the blonde prefaced her question, "but why didn't you ask me about where I was so long?"

The Irishman shrugged, momentarily lifting her face with the movement. "I trust you," he stated simply. "If you needed to tell me something, you would… whenever you were ready to."

And she did need to tell him. Hell, she wanted to as well, but, first, she was going to start with the easiest topic to discuss. After all, simple facts were far more straightforward than her feelings on becoming part demon. "No one or maybe I should say nothing showed back up at the warehouse. I waited, but…"

"I killed Drusilla."

"Oh," Buffy breathed out, pleasantly surprised by the shared information, but that was until she recalled seconds later just who exactly the raven haired vampire had been to her boyfriend or, rather, to her boyfriend's demon. "Are you okay with that?"

Smirking slightly, Angel revealed, "Giles asked me the same thing."

Teasingly, she grinned at him. "It sounds like someone has finally reached the inner sanctum." It amazed the fledgling that, during such an important, serious conversation, she and the man she loved could still manage to smile and laugh. It felt justified, and it felt good… no matter how new the sensation was.

"I told him that it felt right to, at least, partially fix Angelus' mistakes. Now, hopefully, whatever is left of Dru's soul will be able to finally find some peace," he confided in her.

Just staring at the man in whose lap she sat, the slayer was, once again, reminded of just how much and why she loved him. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly. The embrace wasn't meant to arouse or entice but, instead, to show compassion, trust, forgiveness, and commitment. It would be just one whisper of their lips together out of thousands, maybe more, and, just like all the others that had yet to occur, it was meant to heal the wounds of the past, sooth the anxiety of the present, and accept whatever the future had to hold.

Settling back into her previous position, Buffy queried, "what about the others?"

"We got half if not more of their minions."

"And Spike," she wanted to know.

The centuries old vampire rolled his deep, dark eyes. "At the first sign of real trouble, he took off. Leave it to Spike to protect his own worthless ass, while he hangs everyone else out to dry."

Despite her best attempts to appear completely serious, the ageless teenager's lips quirked. "Well, you had to know that someone who was so particular about their hair would be a little self-involved."

"Do you think he might have felt your presence at the warehouse and took off before you could detect him?"

"No, no way," the slayer responded. "I know that my senses are stronger than his, that I'm stronger than he is now. I would have smelled him long before he would have even started to attempt looking for me. No, he must have gone somewhere else."

"We can go out and start looking if you want," her boyfriend offered, already starting to adjust himself so that they could both stand up, but Buffy held fast, refusing to allow him purchase to really move.

"Actually, there's something else I need to talk to you about… but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I could tell that there was something on your mind," the souled demon revealed. "But, honestly, I'm not sure that I want to hear what you have to say. After talking to Giles earlier…"

Screwing up her petite, expressive face, the blonde asked, "what does he have to do with me going to see Miss Calendar?"

Although he verbally didn't express his shock, she could tell by the widening of her boyfriend's eyes and the fact that his eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline that her question had startled the Irishman. "You what?"

Standing, the slayer began to pace, nervously toying with her fingers as she watched her feet move. "What I'm about to tell you probably isn't going to make much sense at first, but would you just let me tell you everything before you react?" Glancing up at the man she loved, she stressed, "would you please do that for me?"

Angel just nodded his acquiesce once.

Turning to face the centuries old vampire, the fledgling simply stated, "I went there to thank her."

"For what," he demanded, already forgetting his promise due to the astonishing nature of her opening declaration. "After what she did to you…"

Buffy held up a single hand, the calm gesture meant to silence her boyfriend. It worked. "Oh, I'm angry with her… or I was, but I can't regret the consequences of her actions." Kneeling down before the chair in which she herself had just been sitting on top of Angel's lap in, the slayer took his hands in hers, looked deeply into his eyes, and continued to explain herself. "You know how hard everything before was for me – trying to be a normal girl, a normal daughter, a normal student and friend, slaying, and loving you all at the same time. It was all pretty much impossible when put together. I did my best, but I was struggling pretty badly with trying to juggle it all. Now, I don't have to."

Pausing long enough to allow her words to sink in, Buffy waited several seconds before she pressed on. "I don't like the fact that the choice was taken out of my hands. My entire future was decided for me, but, at this point, I'm kind of used to high handed supernatural forces stepping in and turning my entire world upside down, only, this time, it was easier, and it made more sense to me than when I became the slayer."

Before the man she loved could protest, the eternal seventeen year old admitted, "and I know that it's not going to be a walk in the park all the time. It's going to be hard for me to sit back and watch my parents and my friends die while I never age, but I'll have you for forever, and I know that you're enough to get me through that kind of pain. I love my mom, and I love Giles, and Willow, and Xander, but you're the only person I need – you and your love. Maybe that's selfish of me, but it's the truth, and I don't regret it. I couldn't take it back even if I wanted to. It wasn't my decision to become a vampire, but it is my decision to remain one, and that's exactly what I intend upon doing. It's the best possible option for everyone."

"I'm only concerned about what is best for you," he confessed.

Crawling back up onto his lap, the fledgling sat so that she was straddling her boyfriend's legs. Leaning forward so that their foreheads and noses were touching, she locked their gazes together before whispering, "this is what is best for me; you are what is best for me."

"Alright then," Angel breathed out despite the fact that he didn't really need the intake of air. She knew that was the end of their discussion, and the fact that he could simply accept her choice so easily without arguing with her despite actually wanting to protest made Buffy love him even more. "We should probably get in touch with Giles, tell him about what you decided."

"And we will," she promised, "but not tonight. Let him sleep. He needs it. Besides, there's something else I think we should do." Bestowing Angel with her most dazzling, most convincing smile that she possessed, the slayer tentatively said, "I was actually wondering if you would do a little favor for me?"

Feigning wariness, the souled vampire asked, "and what exactly would that favor be?"

"I need to go and see my mom," Buffy responded. "Telling her that I'm staying at Willow's isn't going to work much longer. She's going to start getting suspicious… and that's if she doesn't try to ground me first."

"Yeah," her boyfriend teased, grinning crookedly, "like that's ever stopped you in the past."

But she just playfully ignored him. "Obviously, I won't be able to tell her the truth. After all, I can't see 'hey, mom, I slept with Angel and, afterwards, turned into a souled vamp because of this happiness clause that we weren't aware of being attached to his curse, so I'm moving out' actually working."

"So, what do you want to tell her instead?"

"Well, that's where you and this little favor come into play," the blonde admitted sheepishly. When the man she loved just watched her carefully, waiting for her to expand upon her announcement, she confessed, "I want to tell my mom that we're running away to get married. She'll be mad… like probably even more pissed than when I burnt down the gym at my old school in LA, but, really, it's the only option I think we have. I still want to be able to see her, and I want her to know that you're in my life, because, eventually, when she sees our relationship working, she'll get over her disappointment and blinding rage."

"I don't think it'll be that bad," Angel contended.

"Oh, you've never seen my mom mad before." With wide, innocent eyes, the fledgling insisted, "she's scarier than both The Judge and The Master combined."

Although her boyfriend laughed, he also sobered quickly. Taking the hand on which she wore her birthday present into both of his, the souled demon reverently touched the Claddagh ring, caressing it, before removing it and then slipping it onto the eternal teen's left ring finger, heart facing in. "When I explained to you the meaning behind our rings, I left something pretty significant out. Traditionally, when worn on the right hand, it's a promise to be together, a pledge to be married, but a couple switches the rings to their left hands once they're actually joined together."

"How… I don't… what… You…?"

The Irishman smiled at her baffled, incoherent ramblings. "I want to marry you, Buffy Summers. While we might not be able to legally get married, seeing as how I am officially dead, in my heart, we're already joined together… for forever." Leaning down, he kissed the ring upon her finger just as she had done to him two nights before. "With my two hands, I give you my heart and crown it with my love."

Repeating the same old, timeworn, traditional pledge, the slayer promised, "with my two hands, I give you my heart and crown it with my love," while transferring her lover's ring to his left hand as well.

"So, now," Angel said, "when we go to see your mom, we won't be lying about what's really important. We might not have run off to elope, but we are married… at least, in our hearts."

"And that's all that matters," the blonde stated, leaning in to seal their simple yet beautiful union with a lasting kiss. Pulling away after several long moments, the new vampire jumped up and pulled the souled demon with her. "Alright, now let's get this show on the road. The sooner we tell my mom, the sooner we can get back here and…"

"And…?"

If she still would have been human, the blonde would have blushed. Fidgeting, she avoided the Irishman's gaze. "You know…"

"I do know," he agreed with her, still chuckling. "However, before we go, maybe you should feed?"

"Oh, about that," Buffy admitted sheepishly. "I might have already kind of finished off all the blood you got me yesterday."

"That's okay," he reassured her. "We'll pick some more up while we're out. For now, though, you can just feed from me."

The slayer's gaze opened wide with amazement. "Really, but doesn't that… hurt?"

"Oh, no," the centuries old vampire soothed her worries, "not at all. Far from it, actually." At her confused expression, he clarified, "when I pulled away from you yesterday, it wasn't because I was in pain, at least, not physically. I was shocked, scared for you, and scared that I had done something to hurt you. Feeding from each other, for vampires, is like…" Cutting his statement short, Angel, instead, pulled the slayer closer to him, enfolding her in his arms. She immediately tilted her head back to look up at him properly, revealing her neck to him. He did the same, angling his jaw upward, and invited her to bite him. "It'll be easier if I just show you. After you bite into me, I'll bite into you, and you'll feel for yourself what I mean."

And that's exactly what they did. As Buffy felt her own blood flowing into the man she loved, she could taste his own life source gush into her mouth and then spread outward throughout her entire form. It warmed her otherwise chilled skin, electrified every single nerve ending in her body, and granted her more pleasure than she had ever experienced before in her entire life. It was the closest she had ever felt to Angel. At the same time, though, she could feel their strength combining. With every drop of blood that they shared with each other, their power grew, contracted, and expanded, and she knew then and there that it would only continue to do so for as long as they continued to feed from each other.

They truly were an island onto themselves, existing separately from the rest of the world, not needing anything or anyone but each other. It was the truest and deepest of all connections, of all commitments, and it was theirs for eternity. There was no way she could ever turn her back on such a gift, and she never would.

} * {

He had possessed every intention of following Angel's advice and going home to sleep. After all, he was exhausted, and he no longer felt as though Buffy's recent transformation required his immediate, undivided attention. His slayer was, if not grateful, then, at least, accepting of her current vampiric state, and he knew that she would want him to take care of himself – to eat, and rest, and take a few hours to simply unwind. After all, the fledgling was very much about enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

So, with those thoughts in his mind, Giles had set off for home after leaving Angel outside of his apartment. He had driven the short route, locked his car for the night, and gone inside of his comfortable, bachelor flat. Once inside, he had fixed himself a cup of tea, sorted through the mail, and showered, only to climb into bed and suddenly find himself perfectly awake and incapable of relaxing. He had simply been too wired still to fall asleep.

Knowing research might be the very thing to settle his high-strung mind, the watcher had climbed back out of bed, redressed himself, and then went back outside only to climb, once more, into his old sedan. If he was going to do research, he was going to make sure that his time was spent well, and, in order to do that, he needed to return for what he hoped would be the very last time to Jenny Calendar's… or Jenny Kalderash's… or Janna Kalderash's, whatever her real name was. She had the books he needed, so he would get them and then never see his ex-girlfriend again… well, except for at work… unfortunately.

Just like the previous time, he found the teacher's car outside and her front door unlocked. After calling out for her and knocking to no avail, he allowed himself in once again, hoping the call would be a short one. The apartment was dark, and it felt empty, deserted, despite the fact that the librarian knew that the computer expert had to be home. It was too late and too dangerous to be out on foot… even for someone who, apparently, had a penchant for early morning walks.

Rounding the slight corner into the living room, the British man came to a complete, harsh stop. Jenny was certainly there – she was right in front of him, but she was also dead.

Hung.

She had committed suicide.

Quickly glancing around the small space, he didn't find a note or anything else that would help him piece together why the gypsy descendent had taken her own life. While their breakup and the revelation of her betrayals certainly weren't pleasant topics, he knew that they were not enough to make her so desperate that she would be able to kick a chair away while hanging by her neck from her living room light fixture and kill herself. Something else had to have happened, but what that thing was, he couldn't be sure. The truth of the matter was that, despite their former association and relationship, he didn't know the teacher well enough to comprehend her latest and last action.

What he did know, though, was that he couldn't leave her various tomes on the supernatural there for the authorities to find and confiscate, and he certainly couldn't leave her laptop behind for someone else to scan and copy. Both contained too much valuable, potentially dangerous information if ever put into the wrong hands. So, gathering the suspicious belongings, the watcher dashed out to his car, stashing the seized sources safely. Returning to the apartment, he made an anonymous phone call to the authorities, giving them enough information to find the body but not enough to implicate himself. While perhaps selfish, he just simply couldn't risk involvement in the suicide case, not with everything that had recently occurred between himself and the computer expert.

Taking out his handkerchief, the librarian rapidly attempted to remove all his fingerprints from the premises, retracing his steps until he backed out the door and then scrambled into his car. Hopefully, it was too late for any of the neighbors to have seen him. Hopefully, he had covered his tracks well enough to avoid suspicion or future involvement. Hopefully, the kids, especially Willow, wouldn't take the loss of the cyber pagan's life too badly. Hopefully, someday he'd be able to figure out why the teacher had taken such a drastic action.

And, hopefully, someday, he'd be able to forgive himself for being so harsh with a woman he, at least, had cared about. No matter what, Jenny had been a person, deserving of basic human compassion and sympathy. While Rupert was sure that he had not been the one to drive her to suicide, he did wonder if, perhaps, she would have turned to him for help if he had not been so cruel towards her, and, for that, he would always be sorry.