WARNING: The beginning of this chapter alludes to a suicide. I realize this may be a sensitive subject for some people, so I've put a full page break after the section. That way if you don't want to read it, feel free to skip ahead to the break and continue reading from there.

Disclaimer: Nothing but the original characters belong to me. All songs quoted through-out the story are owned by their respective artists.

Rating: M-ish, overall (for violence, mild language, maybe some sexual innuendo in later chapters, but there will be absolutely NO smut!)

Thank you to all who have reviewed so far!


Chapter 50: Black Magic Woman

Buffy couldn't move, wouldn't move. She sat as still as stone on the edge of her porch steps, wrapped in a blanket one of the Paramedics had placed around her. Her clothes were soaked from pulling her Father out of the shower, but she didn't care, she didn't feel anything at the moment. Just out of earshot, for a normal human being at least, one of the Paramedics conversed quietly with a Police Officer. They glanced every so often at her with a sorrowful expression, thinking she couldn't hear them. She wasn't really paying attention, but every now and then she would pick out words: "Self-inflicted,", "massive blood-loss", "time of death: 7 o'clock p.m.", twenty-five minutes before she'd gotten home.

Twenty-five minutes.

Buffy cursed herself, she should have stopped by to check on him before going to the bookstore. He'd been acting strange since last night, she should have instinctively known something was wrong. She should have been there, she could have stopped it. Feeling herself begin to shake again, she took a deep breath. Another Paramedic made her way over to Buffy, she was younger, with a kind, careful face.

"Miss?" she asked quietly.

Buffy looked up to the woman, her eyes wide and dull, but didn't speak.

"We called the number you gave us, your friends should be here any minute, okay?" she soothed, kneeling in front of her, "Would you like me to escort you inside to get a few things? Or would you rather wait until they get here?"

Buffy licked her lips, a futile gesture, the inside of her mouth felt like sandpaper, "I'll wait." she whispered.

The Paramedic nodded, with a comforting expression on her face, "I'll be just over there if you need anything." she said, pointing towards the ambulance. The ambulance where they'd loaded the bodybag they'd sealed her father into just moments ago.

Staring at the pulsating red lights of the ambulance, the reality of the situation finally washed over Buffy like a tidal wave; her father was dead. She was alone. It was an odd sensation, in actuality, her real mother had been dead for almost sixteen years, and her real father, well, she hadn't spoken to him in ages... yet the thought of never again being greeted lovingly by the kindly Daniel Cross when she entered the house left a hole in her heart.

A set of bright headlights turned into the driveway, momentarily blinded her, and washed away the red glow of all the emergency vehicles' lights. The engine cut, and Giles and Willow burst out of the car. Willow immediately flew towards Buffy, while Giles stopped to speak to the Paramedic who had spoken to Buffy mere moments ago.

Willow knelt in front of her, a look of sheer horror on her face, and gripped Buffy's shoulders gently in her hands, "Buffy?" she whispered quietly, careful that no one else heard.

Buffy finally looked away from the ambulance to her best friend's worried face.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice tearful and trembling.

Buffy took a moment to consider Willow's words, and it took only that moment for the rest of her strength to crumble away. Shaking her head slowly, she felt hot tears beginning to pour down her cheeks. Willow's own eyes began to water, as she pulled Buffy into a comforting hug, letting her cry silently into her shoulder. Giles finally finished conversing with the Paramedic, and with a grave expression on his face, he crossed the lawn, and sat down on the steps next to Buffy. Placing a hand gently on Buffy's back, he looked to Willow, "When she's ready, I'll drive you both back to your place." he said softly.

Willow nodded slightly, trying not to disrupt Buffy, "When you get home," she began to whisper, "I think you need to call someone."


Around noon the following day, the phone rang shrilly through Willow's small home. She rushed to the kitchen, and hastily picked up the receiver before it could ring for too long.

"Hello?" she panted.

"Willow?" the voice at the other end asked apprehensively.

Willow sighed in relief, "Angel, thank God!"

Angel gripped the cord of the pay phone tightly, wrapping it around his fingers, "How is she?" he asked. It had been excruciating, waiting until it was a decent hour to call after Giles had finally gotten in touch with him and told him the news.

Willow sighed again, then there was a long pause, where he could only assume she was trying to pull herself together, "Not very good Angel... not very good at all." she whispered finally.

Angel leaned into the phone heavily, his teeth clenched as he cursed himself for being so far away when Buffy needed support. He felt he had failed her in some way. "Can I... can I speak to her?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice from breaking.

It had been awhile since Willow had heard so much sorrow in Angel's voice, and it wrenched her heart, "Oh... Angel... she only just fell asleep... I-" she began to ramble.

"It's alright Willow, don't wake her." he said reassuringly, even though it truly crushed him that he couldn't even offer his love some comforting words in her grief.

"But you're coming back soon, right?" Willow asked, letting the tiniest bit of hope to colour her voice.

"I am," he affirmed, "I just have one small thing I have to do first."

"Okay... take care Angel, and please hurry."

Angel grinned sadly, "Thank you Willow."

He hung up the phone, and gripped the side of it tightly enough to leave indentations of his fingertips on the surface. With a sigh, he turned and pulled his coat around him tighter, keeping up the pretence that the crisp autumn air affected him. He turned to continue down the road, his hands plunged deeply into his coat pockets, his head hanging low. He was heavily into "brood-mode" as Buffy would have referred to it in happier times... His thoughts travelled back to how she must be feeling right now, and immense guilt began to rise up inside him. He should have been there - no, he should be there; to comfort her, to help her through this. If only he hadn't dawdled at the Council for so long, he could have been back in Braebrook ages ago. He wondered why it had taken him so long to make it all the way to Bucharest. Was it possible that he was afraid of what he may find out from the Romani Elder? He had to admit to himself, over a hundred years of holding himself responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, of torturing himself and not allowing himself the slightest pleasure... it was a hard habit to break; and the last time he'd given himself that luxury, things hadn't exactly taken a turn for the best. Turning down a quiet side street, lined with very old buildings, he decided that things wouldn't go that way this time around. He had been put into this body for a reason, and regardless of what the Romani told him, he knew Buffy needed him there right now.

He stopped in front of a quaint little building that somewhat resembled a townhouse. He was on edge, feeling a bit as though he were about to waltz right into a dragon's den. Gathering his courage, he slowly made his way up the steps and knocked on the front door. After waiting a few moments, a matronly looking woman opened the door. She looked Angel up and down, and her eyes bulged slightly. Muttering something in Romanian under her breath, she scurried away from the door, but left it wide open.

"Wait! I mean... um, asteptam?" he stuttered in broken Romanian. He unconsciously reached out his arm in the direction she'd run off in, and found that he was able to cross the threshold of the home, she must have invited him in. "Thank you..." he called softly after her, as he stepped through the door. Angel stood in the large, empty hall of the home looking around apprehensively. It seemed to be empty, void of any life, he wondered if perhaps he'd frightened everyone away, just as he had the woman who answered the door. He was about to call out, when he heard the sound of heavy boots clunking down the long winding staircase in front of him. An older gentleman, with greying hair stepped into view. He eyed Angel, then with a faint smirk, he pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at the time.

He chuckled, "Right on time, just as she predicted." stuffing the pocket watch back into his jacket's pocket, he descended the rest of the steps, then standing in front of Angel, gestured towards them, "Go on then," he said, "She has been waiting for you."

Hesitantly, Angel stepped past the man and began to make his way up the winding staircase. Once reaching the top, he discovered a long hallway. All the doors were closed, save for one at the very end of the corridor, he slowly made his way towards it, as he drew nearer, he began to hear faint whispering floating through the door. Peering inside, he discovered an old woman. She sat on a large cushion on the floor, a table in front of her, where a set of Tarot Cards were spread out in an intricate pattern. Her long white hair was tied back in a braid, and her face was deeply etched with lines and wrinkles. She looked up from her cards, and squinted at Angel, as though it would help her see through the milky whiteness of her cataracts. "Ah, you are here finally." she whispered, "Welcome, Angelus."

Angel moved slowly to stand in front of her, "I prefer Angel nowadays, Madam." he replied.

Her lips curled into a smirk, "A demon named Angel..." she chuckled, "I can appreciate the irony, yes." she threw her arm out in front of her, gesturing to Angel, "Sit." she commanded.

Angel obeyed, and lowered himself to the floor on the opposite side of the small table, "I've come because-"

"Oh, I know why you are here young man," she paused, then chuckled, "Young man... how foolish of me, I apologize."

Angel couldn't help but smile, for as frail as she looked, she certainly still had her wits about her.

"I have spoken with Nadya, she has explained all to me." she continued.

"Nadya?" Angel asked in confusion.

"The young woman we sent to America."

Angel's thoughts flashed back to the young gypsy woman Dustin had turned just before the Guardian was released, "But how-"

"You of all people should know not to question the strength of Romani magick." she clucked, "Yes, I communicated with her from the other side... she pleaded quite strongly for your soul... she says you do real good now, that you help the Chosen One... that you even love her."

Angel averted his eyes, and fixed his gaze on the tabletop. For Buffy's safety, he had hoped to leave her out of this, he should have known it would have been easier said than done, "Yes," he replied simply.

The elder chuckled again, "A vampyr in love with a slayer, you are full of contradictions!"

Angel was unsure of whether or not he should return the smile, "She... she is why I'm here." he replied hesitantly, "Nadya, she said my soul has been anchored by other means than your magic."

"And you want to know if it is true, so you can be with your love without risking what happened last time." she whispered.

Angel clenched his fists as guilt rose up inside him, "Yes."

He swore he saw a twinkle in the old woman's milky eyes as she flipped over another Tarot Card and added it to her layout; it was the Wheel of Fortune. She smirked slightly as she ran her hand over it. "It is true." she answered, looking up to meet Angel's eyes, "It was not our magick which brought your soul to this body, there were higher powers at work."

Angel knew she must be telling the truth, because the joy that washed over him that moment would have caused the curse to break had she not been, "You mean-" he began.

"You may be with your slayer, yes," she chuckled, shaking her head slightly, "You will not put her or her loved ones in danger. The soul is yours to keep."

Angel tried valiantly to keep the enormous smile from spreading across his face, "Thank you." he said quietly.

She smiled solemnly, then closed her eyes while resting her hands palm side down on the tabletop, "Perhaps it was meant to be, that our ancestors cursed you with your soul."

"It's been a long time since I considered it a curse." Angel replied honestly.

The smirk returned to her lips, and she opened one blank eye to glance at Angel. She closed her eyes again, her face becoming solemn once more. "There are things that have been put into motion, things that you will be instrumental in stopping." she began, "I heard the echoes of the warriors' deaths."

"You're talking of the other Slayers?" Angel asked.

She nodded, and with her eyes still closed she reached her hand out and held it over the deck of cards, "Yes," she finally plucked the top card from the deck, and turning it over placed it down on the table in front of her. Opening her eyes, she frowned; it was the Strength card, and it was reversed. "You must return home now," she stated, tapping the card lightly, "There are great challenges that the Chosen One faces, her resolve is crumbling, she needs you at her side."

Without another word, Angel scrambled to his feet and headed towards the door. He paused, before exiting the room, and turned back to the elder, "You keep calling her the Chosen One... but you know there are other Slayers now... why?" he asked.

The woman smiled mischievously, "I knew you would pick up on that," she began as she gathered her Tarot Cards together once more, "I did not say she was the chosen Slayer,"

"Then what do you mean?" Angel asked.

"Together you were strong, alone you are dead" she whispered.

If it were physically possible, a chill would have run down Angel's spine at that moment, "That never happened..." he murmured.

"Those words were perhaps never uttered, but they still ring true. Think of everything that has occurred... how did you end up in this new form?" she asked.

"I... we..." Angel stammered.

"Died?"

He simply nodded.

She shuffled the cards slowly, then as she carefully cut the deck into three piles she began to speak again, "The battle between Good and Evil will only continue to grow, what the Slayer faces now is just the beginning. Both of you have been given another chance, the Powers that govern this plane need both of you in order to triumph, it has been written."

"But... why? Why us? What do we need to do?"

"I do not claim to understand the magic of the Universe, I am not able to see the outcome of events of such magnitude." humming quietly, she began once more to lay out the Tarot Cards in front of her, "But I do know, you are back here because of your love for her, you cannot let that go to waste."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked.

"As you now know, your soul was not returned by Romani magic," she explained, "When your Slayer's soul was thrown back into this dimension, you felt it, you knew she would need you there. The Higher Powers allowed your soul to escape the higher plane, in order to help the one you love."

Angel shook his head, "I don't understand."

"It was your love for her, that brought you back."

Angel merely stood frozen in the doorway, almost unable to believe what she was telling him.

She looked up finally from her task, her crêpe-paper-like brow furrowed, "Go on then! Your Love waits for you!" she scolded.

Angel snapped back to reality, and took a step backwards through the door, "Yes... Thank you, again, I mean it." he replied, before hurrying down the hall.

"As the younger ones would say," she called after him, "'Don't screw it up this time!'"

Angel chuckled as he flew down the long spiral staircase.

He was going home.

"I was perched outside in the pouring rain
Trying to make myself a sail
Then I'll float to you my darlin'
With the evening on my tail
Although not the most honest means of travel
It gets me there nonetheless
I'm a heartless man at worst, babe
And a helpless one at best "
- "Candy" by Paolo Nutini

~o~

*sigh* It upset me greatly when I realized that I would have to kill off Daniel Cross. I knew I couldn't do the parent death thing as well as Joss did, and I didn't really want to write about it, however I realized I needed him to be gone not only for the ending of this story, but also because I needed something to happen to make Buffy emotionally vulnerable in the next chapter (You'll see why when I post it next week).

Now onto happier topics: Angel finally got his ass in gear and made it to the Romani! I think this was another one of my favourite parts to write, I thought it would be fun to play with the Gypsy Elder not being scary and confrontational. In my opinion, if you're going to be an Elder in a clan, I think you should be a bit more open minded and reasonable about things. I figured if she could see the benefit in Angel not being able to lose his soul, she wouldn't be so inclined to get all vengeful on him. I also couldn't help throwing in a little IWRY reference, with all the rambling the Mohra Demon did about the End of Days, I always thought more meaning could be put behind the other things it said.

With that, I promise you all a B/A reunion SOON! You've all been very patient with me having them circle each other for 50 chapters, and I appreciate it! :)