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Chapter Thirty-Eight: Last Glimpses
Sire and Childe and Slayer and Vamp
The sky slowly began to pale, announcing that darkness was about to bow down to rays of light that forced it to retreat and hide its stars behind its thin veil of blue.
The Slayer entered the house quietly, closing the door behind her and thinking of the strangeness that this house had never seen her sister, and how it never would. She gazed up the stairs, assuming that her mother and the vampiress had gone to bed – considering whether to wake them now, or when their guest arrived – but when she turned her head to her left, she realized there was no need to go upstairs: they were asleep on the sofa, the heavy curtains pulled before the windows, shutting out the light. The vampiress was resting in Joyce's arms and the Slayer missed her mother so much that a sharp pang went off near her heart and startled her into movement. She walked into the kitchen, resolved to make some sandwiches and get the kettle boiling before the others arrived.
It didn't take long for Xander to knock on the backdoor. He was carrying a bag and was looking slightly frazzled. The Slayer gave him a smile, which he returned as he headed into the living room. A second knock alerted her to the arrival of Willow, who looked weary, but had a glow about her that spoke of hope – or durable will-power, the Slayer wasn't sure which. Oz wasn't far behind, looking mostly tired. They both said a brief "hello" and walked in the wake of Xander.
"Where's Giles?" she called to the other two, being hushed at by Xander, leading her to conclude that the vampiress and Joyce had yet to be woken.
Willow returned to the kitchen to reply:
"He's on his way. He had something to take care of first."
The Slayer raised her eyebrows, but refrained from asking more questions since she had a good idea what this whole thing was regarding.
"Do you know if there are any matches?" Willow added.
"I have a lighter," the voice of the Vamp sounded as he came into the room from the hallway, holding the silver lighter up to Willow, who took it with a slight smile and headed back into the living room. "They're setting up candles in there, are we having a séance?" he inquired, the Slayer meeting his gaze and feeling slightly light-headed, before she shook it. "Oh, is this about the?" he asked, approaching her and she tensed, feeling rather ridiculous about it.
"Yeah, it's about the," she answered, turning to face him, the buttering knife positioning itself between them.
He smirked, but gave a slight bow and retreated, disappearing into the living room as well. She felt as though she should have been relieved that he had gone away without any fuss, but it unsettled her – it was too unlike him. Where had he gone? Where had he been all night? A fleeting thought scratched itself through her mind of him having found himself some slinky, slutty piece of forgetfulness and she managed to completely ruin a slice of bread, shredding it with the buttering knife, blaming the fridge-cold butter and tossing the bread out as her cheeks burned with unsolicited disapproval.
The door once more opened and she didn't turn around as she said:
"Good, you're here. They're in the living room, setting up the candles. Have you really thought this through?"
"I couldn't not be here," Angel replied and at the sound of his voice she turned around, surprised.
He smiled a little and she felt herself begin to relax at the well-known expression. He always seemed so calm, so in control, not like the hot-headed, temper-ignorant moron in the other room who seemed to think every chance to have an argument should be taken.
"Hi," she smiled. "Sorry, thought you were Giles."
"I figured. So – living room?"
She nodded and he headed that way, meeting Xander and giving a nod as greeting, Xander stopping in front of the Slayer and she raised her eyebrows wonderingly.
"Could you make me a peanut butter and jelly one? Heavy on the peanut butter, light on the jelly?" he asked and she smiled widely just as Kendra entered, followed by Giles who closed the door behind him softly and looked from one to the other.
"Hi," he greeted.
"Hi," Xander and Buffy said with one voice.
"So," Buffy added.
"Yeah," Giles muttered, not saying anything else before he walked past Xander and into the hallway. "We need to get going; everybody in here," he added.
Buffy looked sympathetically at Xander, who looked longingly at the ingredients on the counter.
"I'll make it after," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure when 'after' might be.
She glanced at the door, wondering where the other vampire was and hoping he wasn't staying away. If he chose not to show, it would be bad all around. He couldn't be that heartless.
x
The vampire was situated in the swiftly shrinking shade outside the large window of the living room, gazing at all the activity going on within, watching his childe with her family, her friends, and feeling farther away from her than ever.
Why had he followed her here? What had steered his feet to her instead of where he had meant them to go? What was he really doing there?
He watched her pale face as she smiled at her mother. There was something missing in that smile, as though it had been snapped somewhere, distorted in a way that only he could see. Because he had done it, he had stolen that missing bit that made her not quite fit into this frame that surrounded her old life. He had tried to beat and cut and scream it into her that she was different, and though she hadn't seemed to listen or even react, it had all sunken in and now it lay there, just beneath the calm surface, keeping her from feeling a part of a group which she before had held together.
She was strong. Much stronger than he had ever given her credit for; much stronger than him.
She didn't belong to him, she never had. And she would die for his mistake.
Suddenly her eyes were in his and as she rose from her chair he backed away from the window.
x
The vampiress stepped onto the porch, leaving the door open behind her as she took a few steps forward, staring at the deserted street and understanding the simplicity of his actions. They were simple to dissect now. He wasn't coming back. She stared and stared until her eyes began to ache, her sight blurring as she leaned slowly against the porch rail. She didn't feel surprised, or even aggrieved. She felt nothing. She had been hollowed out when it came to her sire and he had done the hollowing with his bare hands, with full knowledge of what he was doing, waiting for this moment to finish the deed, to leave her behind once and for all and to show her that he had meant everything he had said.
He had never felt anything for her.
She clenched her fists tightly, her gaze unseeing as it stayed on the same spot of street.
"Buffy," a voice said gently behind her and she turned to face Willow. "We're ready to start."
The vampiress furrowed her brow questioningly.
"Start what?" she asked.
As they re-entered the living room, Giles had begun to light the candles, standing in a hexagon on a black piece of velvet spread out on the floor. The candles making up the hexagon were all dark green, while there was a larger, white candle placed in the middle of the formation. Giles lit the white candle last and without much ado, an object began to take form just above the flame, as if the heat of it kept it afloat.
The vampiress' eyes were transfixed by what was happening before her.
It couldn't be.
Only, it was.
An orb of Thesula.
The vampiress blinked, staring at the glass sphere as it softly landed in Giles' hand. He pulled it away from the flame, dropping it gently onto the velvet before shaking his fingers in slight pain as he looked up and his eyes met hers. She couldn't process this improbable lifesaver actually being in the midst of their group, arriving in the eleventh hour, as if it was some sort of impromptu miracle.
"Buffy," Giles said, rising off the floor and coming up to her. "We can try this, but we have to do it right now. I need you to say it's okay."
"Really? I didn't okay any of this other stuff," she mumbled, transfixed by the thing resting patiently on the floor.
It looked so small and insignificant: like a bubble about to burst.
"This decision doesn't even come near any of the other stuff," he remarked and she slowly moved her eyes to his again.
What she saw there was a plea, and she realized that he wasn't ready to say goodbye to her; that, perhaps, he would never be ready. She didn't feel ready in that moment either, and she nodded a little. Hope was like blue sky behind parting clouds, shining its welcomed color within her even when she had been certain it had faded for good. She might still be saved. She felt her mother's hand slide into one of hers and she turned her head to her.
"Don't worry," the vampiress calmed. "It'll be okay."
Joyce didn't look all that convinced, her hold tightening as Willow and Giles began to set up the scene for the ceremony. Retrieving a soul was never safe, never easy and everything had to be done like clockwork, or it would all fall apart.
The vampiress felt the Slayer's eyes on her and moved her gaze into hers. There was a worried wrinkle between her eyebrows, but the vampiress merely shook her head.
It wasn't important now.
He couldn't matter now.
x
Giles placed the precious orb inside the pentagram, looking at Willow, who stood hesitantly at his side. If only she could see how important this was to him. How he hadn't been able to forgive himself yet for what had happened to his slayer; how he kept going over the circumstances in his head, trying to find the second he made the wrong decision and sent her straight into the snapping jaws of that beast. Once her soul was back in her body, she would realize that she couldn't go on like this. She was under a hex, under the spell of the fiend who had bitten her and left her without one second's pause. She would come back to them, if this worked. If her soul was restored, she would come back.
The vampiress stopped in front of him. He didn't look at her, but motioned for her to sit. She did, cross-legged, before him. He took his position inside the pentagram, closing his eyes for a moment to remind himself of the words he would have to speak to begin the search for her spirit. It was almost as if he felt it forlornly circling nearby, waiting for him to act the savior and bring it back where it belonged.
He opened his eyes and fastened them in Buffy's, parting his lips to speak the incantation when he was stopped by an incredibly loud crack which reverberated through the room.
His gaze went to the orb and his eyes widened.
It was split in two.