PART III
Underground Sunnydale, June, 2018
"What about this one?" Rhea asked, bending over to pick another plant specimen, carefully thanking it for sacrificing itself for her work. Her Aunt Willow was a very powerful Witch, and she said it was important to honor all of the living things, including the elements, that she used when she cast spells.
Angel peered at her acquisition, "Valley Sage," he announced.
Rhea nodded, satisfied, and threw the plant in her basket. She was making a dream pillow for her Aunt Willow's birthday, and she had to have just the right ingredients. Having her father along was the best guarantee that she'd get it right -- he knew everything about everything, especially plants.
She watched him wander to the duck pond nearby, and start skimming stones across its smooth surface.
Rhea knew Angel wasn't her real father, anymore than Willow was her real mother. But she barely remembered her mother, and had never met her father at all. Angel might not be human, but he was the best dad anyone could ever want. He always answered her ceaseless questions with patience and clarity, and always spoke to her like a person, instead of somebody's particularly smart pet, like a lot of people did. He told her incredible stories, and taught her Latin, Spanish, French, and his own native tongue, Gaelic. He sang her funny songs, and never told her to get lost when she wanted to go somewhere with him, the way Jeremy did. Her brother had a stupid girlfriend now, and hardly every wanted to spend time with her anymore.
Angel was never too busy for her. He was her best friend.
She couldn't remember when she figured out that Angel was a vampire. The signs were everywhere, and she'd picked up every one, without ever giving it much thought. There were other vampires in the community, too, like her Uncle Spike, but none of them were as sweet and friendly and well-liked as her daddy, so it had never really occurred to her to ask him about it. She just took it for granted. Under the biodome sun, everybody got to walk in the daylight.
But two weeks ago, at dinner, Spike had called Angel his 'Sire'. Rhea knew what that meant. She didn't understand it fully, but she knew the mechanics. It was a part of vampire-hood that nobody seemed to want to talk about.
She set her basket down and walked over to where Angel now sat on a tree stump.
"Daddy?" she asked him.
He smiled at her. "Mm?"
"Are you Spike's daddy, too?"
Angel started, completely unprepared for such a question, "What? Why do you say that?"
Rhea shrugged and sat down next to him. Sometimes, Angel couldn't help but stare at her. She looked more and more like Buffy every day.
"Well... he called you his Sire, and I know that's how you make vampires... The Sire bites someone, and they catch a demon like a cold, and then they're a vampire, too," she said seriously.
Not a bad estimation, for a nine year old.
"Well... yes. That's it, more or less. It's a little more complicated, but..."
"You bit Spike?" she said.
Angel looked at her. He knew, sooner or later, that they would have to talk about this. Rhea knew full well what he was, by now, and being the curious, quick-witted girl that she was, she would naturally want to know more. He had been sincerely hoping it would come later. Much later. Like, never.
"Yes, I did," he answered honestly.
"Why?" Rhea asked.
Why couldn't she ask him why the sky was blue? It would have been much easier to answer.
"I..." he hesitated, thinking seriously about it, "I'm not sure I remember anymore. It was a long time ago."
"How long?" Rhea asked. She always thought it was cool that her dad was almost 300 years old, but looked young enough to be her older brother.
"Hm," Angel did the math quickly in his head, "160 years or so, I think."
"Were you bad then?" She knew that her father had parts of his past he didn't like to talk about -- parts that included Spike. The two of them were always so mean to each other.
Angel looked out over the rolling hills... they reminded him a little of the rich green ones of his childhood.
"Yes, I was," he said.
"Aunt Willow says you have a curse," she went on.
He nodded.
"Isn't a curse bad?" She asked.
Angel felt like Rhea was a Difficult Question Machine, and somebody had recently pumped her full of quarters. If she asked about Hell, he was leaving.
"Usually," he answered.
"But you have a good curse," she said.
"Sort of."
"It stops you from being bad?"
"Theoretically," he said, "Can we talk about something else?"
"No," Rhea said.
Angel nodded. He had thought as much. Rhea was stubborn, like her mother, but with a brain that seemed to suck in knowledge like a sponge.
Unfortunately, he couldn't really set her down with the Encyclopedia Disks, for this one.
"Will you live forever?" She asked.
"Maybe. I could. I don't get older, and I can't get sick," he said.
They sat quietly for a minute.
"Did you love my mommy?" She asked.
Angel looked at her sweet face, a living answer to the very question she was asking.
"Yes, I did. Very much. I still do," he said.
"How come you didn't marry her, instead of my other dad?"
Angel sighed. That was the toughest question of all, really. One he had asked himself a million times over the years. But above and beyond all the reasons there had been that he and Buffy couldn't build a life together, the most important reason sat beside him.
"If your mommy and I had gotten married, you never would have been born," he said.
"Oh," Rhea said, "You can't have babies?"
"No," he said sadly.
"Well, I guess it's a good thing you didn't, then. It's okay... you have us, now."
Rhea sounded more like 19 than 9, sometimes, "Yeah, I guess it was a good thing." He smiled warmly down at her.
"Do you want to see some butterflies?" she asked.
Angel was relieved at the change of subject, "I would love to," he said.
She reached a little hand out to him. He took it, and she led him away into the meadow.
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Angel collapsed heavily on the couch beside Willow, and sighed deeply, leaning against her. She slowly looked up from her book.
"Rough day?" She asked.
Angel chuckled, "Yes and no. Rhea wanted to know if a Sire was the same thing as a father."
Willow laughed, "Oh no, she did not!"
"Yes she did. I swear, if Spike puts any more ideas in their heads with his big mouth, I'm going to sew it shut."
Willow chuckled again and patted his knee, "Poor baby. What did you expect, that she wouldn't be curious? Not every kid has a father who is a vampire..."
"Hrmph," he snorted.
He sat quietly, looking into the fire as Willow went back to her reading. After a moment, she looked up at him again.
"Since when have you been embarrassed about who you are?" she asked.
He shrugged, "Not embarrassed, exactly..."
Willow closed her book and set it down on the table, curling her legs up beneath her and turning to face him.
"Angel... you have nothing to be ashamed of anymore. You've more than made up for what happened before," she said gently.
Angel sighed, "Maybe... But... being here... life is so different. With plasma replacement and digestive enzyme pills, I can eat food, and not have to drink blood... with the artificial sun, I can walk in the daylight, and without somebody trying to stake me or shove a cross in my face or splash me with holy water all the time... it's... it's easy, to pretend that I'm... normal."
Willow squeezed his hand, "You are normal. As normal as any of the others who live down here... Everyone has things in their past that they aren't proud of. Especially with all these years of war."
Angel thought 'not proud of' was a bit understated for how he felt about his past.
"Look at all of the good you've done over the years," Willow went on, "All the people you've helped... in Sunnydale, in L.A., here. Look at the beautiful children you've raised. Don't you think it's about time you give yourself a reprieve from all that guilt?"
Angel thought about the worst deeds he'd done... the pain and misery he brought on hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent people. Horrifying, abominable things... Unforgivable things. He thought about Buffy, and what she must be going through, wherever she was... If only he had remained at her side, maybe things would have been different, for all of them.
"No," he said simply, "I don't. That's not why I do the things I do, Willow... to ease my guilt. I do them because they're right."
Willow reached up and turned his face so she could hold his gaze with her own, "There you are. Hardly the morality of a monster, is it?" She smiled warmly at him.
His tension eased a little, "No, I guess not. And... everything is... different, now."
She nodded and kissed his frown lightly, "It is. You're different. You wouldn't be my friend if you weren't."
"Mostly, I'd be trying to eat you," he joked.
She smirked at him.
"I owe a lot of that to you, you know," he added seriously, "You've been... a good friend, to me."
She blushed under his intense gaze.
"Don't be silly," she objected.
"No," he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, "Everything I have today is because of you. Because you took me in when I had nowhere to go... gave me a home, a family..." he bowed his head, "Love. You've helped me to find some peace... the first peace I've had in a very long time." Angel kissed her hand gently, and rubbed her soft skin against his cheek.
Willow was speechless. She felt exactly the same, of course; that the three years they had spent together were the most contented and peaceful she had ever known. Angel had brought her heart back to life -- made her feel like a human being again.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
She had no illusions about what their love was -- an arrangement sprung from need, deep friendship, respect, and trust. They were two lonely people who shared the responsibility of raising the children of their closest friend together. It wasn't a romantic, passionate love, but a warm, companionable one.
Willow realized suddenly that Buffy had once told her almost the exact same thing about Riley. She leaned over and kissed Angel on the forehead, "I love you," she said softly.
He smiled, "I love you, too."
They were what they were. And that was enough, for now.
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