See, what your great feedback does to me! It makes me write faster. Here's the next part already. Enjoy and thanks so much for the great reviews.

Love's Gift - Part 10

By Jill

Giles lifted his head from the book when the words blurred before his eyes. He had a hard time remembering the last time he'd felt so old and useless. With a sigh he shoved the book away, took off his glasses, and stifled a groan of pleasure when he was finally able to rub his burning eyes. He was so tired, he wanted nothing more than sleep for 24 hours straight. But at the same time he was so wired, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew the others felt the same way. Jenny had looked tired this morning, too.

Jenny. Her face appeared before his inner eye.  He knew he'd hurt her this morning. He remembered the pain in her gaze, and hated himself for causing it. She wasn't responsible for the fact that he felt like the greatest failure in the watchers' history right now. But the problem was that she was the embodiment of what had caused the whole mess, and somehow, standing before him, like she had this morning, after a night of fruitless research, he'd felt the urge to show her he hadn't forgiven completely. And of course guilty as she felt, she'd taken the blow without even attempting to defend herself.

Damn

He felt like a slob. As if she wasn't hurt already, guilt weighting heavily on her conscience, deserted by her family and people. Giles sighed loudly. Maybe he could go out, find a puppy and kick it really hard. He sighed wearily, rubbed a hand over his tired face. He should go an find her, apologize, but somehow he couldn't muster the energy. He would talk to her later, make her understand that he wasn't really angry with her, that … he was a stupid idiot who had used her to get rid of his frustration.

"You don't look so good."

His head came up sharply, startled by the sudden intrusion, he managed a small smile, "Good Morning, Buffy." He was tempted to tell her that she didn't look so great herself, but doubted it would sit well with her. Besides, he'd already done his fill for a day, he thought regretfully.

"You've been here the whole night?," she asked, sitting on the edge of the table, her feet dangling in the air.

"Yes. Yes, I've … tried to find something." He sighed, "But unfortunately …"

"It's okay, Giles," she said gently. "I know you're doing all you can."

She sounded almost bored, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?," she asked, her face expressionless. "What should be wrong, Giles? No, no, everything's fine. Peachy."

He gave her another irritated glance, then nodded, "Good, good. How was patrol?"

Something flickered through her eyes at that, but it was gone so quickly, he wasn't sure he'd imagined it.

"Okay. Staked four vamps," she replied.

"I see," he nodded again, "Did you see ... Angel?"

Her head snapped around sharply, and for a moment he saw her eyes resting on him speculatively, before her cool demeanor was back in place. "Why do you ask?"

"He wasn't at home, which is highly unlikely regarding the fact he has to avoid sunlight. I thought you might know where he was."

A frown appeared on her forehead, and she had to swallow, then – almost nervously – licked her lips, "What do you mean … he wasn't at home?"

"I tried to call him. He took several books with him a couple of days ago. I wanted to ask if he found anything," Giles explained, his eyes never leaving Buffy's face. Something just wasn't right here. She was too cool, too controlled, when he expected her to panic or at least reveal fear for the man she'd come to love. And that she did love Angel Giles didn't doubt for a moment. Not anymore. He might have thought – at first – that it wasn't more than just a wild crush between vampire and Slayer, but over the last months he'd seen that there was a lot more than that.

"So he wasn't home," she said flippantly, pushing herself off of the table, starting to pace, "So what? It's not a big deal. Angel's old enough. It's not as if we're responsible for him. He can do what he want. If he wants to leave…," her voice cracked and he saw her blink rapidly, but after a moment she had herself back under control, turned and looked at him, "So can we skip Angel for a while, please? I came to ask if there's something I have to slay?"

Taken aback by her attitude, but more concerned than ever, he had to blink before he could answer. "Slay? Uhm … well, not that I know. I mean there are Spike and Drusilla of course, but they are too dangerous to take them on your own. Maybe you and Angel-"

"Alright," she cut him off, "nothing to slay then. Does that mean I can have a free afternoon? Maybe a free night?"

"A free night?," he asked confused.

"Yeah," she grinned, but it didn't seem genuine. There was something in the depth of her eyes, he couldn't quite grasp. "You know, a night off. I could … date for a change. I'm sure there's some guy who's just dying to go out with me. Or I can just dance."

"Dance?" He stared at her as if she'd spoken in Swaheli. A date? With some guy? Buffy? Something very odd was going on. "Buffy, is something wrong? Did something happen last night?"

"I already told you, everything's peachy. Well, if you've got nothing for me, I'll go. People to see, stuff to learn." Waving at him, she was gone before he could say another word.

The swinging doors had barely closed behind her, when Xander, Cordelia, and Willow stormed into the library, successfully drawing Giles' attention their way.

"Giles," the redhead said breathlessly, beaming as if she'd jus won the lottery. "You won't believe what we found."

"What Willow found," Xander cut in, looking proudly at his friend, ignoring the glare he received from his girlfriend.

The young witch smiled at him, "Thanks, Xand. But we actually found it together. I mean, sure, I found it on the net, but Xander hat the idea, and brought the Cheerios and stuff to keep me going."

They exchanged another bright smile, and Giles felt his patience fading. "Yes, well, that is all very interesting. But could you maybe now enlighten me? What did you find?"

"This." With the one word, Willow held out several sheets for him, obviously a print-out from the computer.

He eyed it sceptically, "And what is 'this'?"

Willow's beam faltered, "That's what we've been looking for. An explanation for what happened to Angel …," she bit her lower lip, " well, maybe not exactly, but it does explain a lot. And could help us to understand the whole thing."

Giles stared at her, not quite able to believe what he'd heard. An explanation? A help to understand? "Good God," he exclaimed, shaking off his daze, and reaching for the pages. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," the redhead nodded, holding her breath while the watcher was scanning the text. "I … I mean I'm not sure sure, but still …" She shot Xander a nervous glance, but he was looking at Giles as well and didn't see it.

"Willow," the watcher's voice was filled with awe, "this is … how did you find it?" He looked up, his eyes holding hope for the first time in days.

"Uhm … I … well, I used different search patterns this time. And there it was."

"God, do you know what that could mean? For Buffy?." They heard the emotion in Giles' voice and they  gazed at each other, when the watcher suddenly frowned, "Although …," he looked up at the three teenagers, "Buffy was just here, you know. And she was acting … I don't want to say strange, but it was decidedly untypical for her."

"I know what you mean. She's beyond weird. When Willow told her about what she'd found, she wasn't interested the tiniest bit." Cordelia shook her head, "I think that's rude. Okay, that's so very much like her, but still … I mean Willow's supposed to be her friend." Ignoring the exasperated looks of the others, she went on, "Anyways. But of course that was before Xander told me the whole story about the big Buffy-Angel fight last night."

"What?" Giles eyes were instantly alert. "What fight? What are you talking about?"

Xander gave his girlfriend a last suffering glance, then shaking his head he turned to Giles, "I was out there last night. In the cemetery. And after staking four vamps, Buffy and Angel got into this big fight." He told her he was thinking about leaving Sunnydale because of the curse and because he doesn't want to lose his soul again. At first she didn't want to listen but soon they were yelling and …," he ran a hand through his hair, "Well, it wasn't nice. So I went to Willow and-"

"You went to Willow?," Cordelia yelped suddenly, "In the middle of the night?"

"Uh … yeah," he admitted, "But I've been in her bedroom before, lots of times actually. Okay, so that was before the whole I-know-what-I-can-do-with-girls-if-they-are-naked thing, but…," he trailed off, grinned when the brunette glared at him.

"You think this is funny," she hissed, grabbing her backpack she'd deposed on the table. "Think again, Harris." With that she turned and stomped out of the library.

Willow looked after her, open mouthed, "I think she was jealous," she muttered, not able to believe what she'd just observed.

"Yeah," Xander agreed, then suddenly his face split into a broad grin, "Yeah."

"I think," Giles said thoughtfully, "This was more about trust, than jealousy."

Xander gave him an annoyed glance, "You really know how to destroy a guy's illusions, don't you?"

"She was hurt because you went to see Willow instead of her," the watcher said almost in awe. "There might be hope for her after all."

*****

There were only a few things Angel hated more than being kidnapped and bound. There were things, he was sure, but right now he wasn't able to remember a lot of them. Being kidnapped by Spike and Drusilla, however, was definitely worse.

He could still remember the last time. He would hardly forget the blisters on his chest from the Holy Water she'd poured over his chest, and although the pain had been excruciating, he'd endured it, knowing that somehow she had a right to do it to him. He had, after all, killed her family, driven her insane, and turned her when she'd tried to escape to a convent. That, he had to admit, gave you a right to do many things, and pouring Holy Water over a vampire wasn't the worst he could imagine.

But he would also never forget the way Buffy had come to his rescue. Like an unstoppable force, powerful, determined, and oh so beautiful, and although he'd been barely conscious at the time, he'd admired her nevertheless. To see her fighting Spike, never backing down, the blond vampire flying through the air, never standing a chance against her strength and wrath … if he hadn't been helplessly in love with her already, he would've fallen in love with her that very instant.

Drusilla's singing voice floated at his ear from the other room. She was singing the same song for hours, always repeating the well-known lines, and Angel knew that she'd once again gone to la-la land, where only her confused thoughts were present, where nothing could hurt her, disturb her peace.

A sharp pang of guilt went through him. Once, without his soul, he had thought her beautiful during those periods, her eyes far away, her face relaxed, an unearthly smile on her lips. She was a beautiful woman, had always been, but she had also been confused and frightened by the her gift, the ability to see certain things. She should have been treated with love, understanding, and care. Instead a cruel vampire had used her for his sick mind-games.

Bile rose in his throat  when he thought about the night. The night he'd seen her for the first time. He'd been fascinated by her, had felt something was different, precious. And by the startled and frightened look she'd given him, she'd sensed the difference in him, too. He'd been thrilled by the idea of playing with her, had even admired her for a while, for her beauty if nothing else, but he had never loved her.  Had never been capable of it. Love had been foreign to him, even after the gypsies had returned his soul. He'd been too guilt-ridden to even contemplate a feeling like love.

Only the view of a blond girl on the steps of a highschool in L.A. had made it possible. Her eyes, the light he saw in them that afternoon in the sun, had shifted something inside of him, had brought feelings to the surface, he'd long thought forgotten, feelings he didn't know he had at all.

Love.

It was such a little word, and held such power. Such magnificence. It could change the world, could even make monsters feeling human. He'd lived from the rats in the streets of New York, had been in possession on his soul all along, but it hadn't mattered. Nothing mattered, but the images of death and torture, of blood and pain. How could he be anything but a monster, he who had to avoid the sun, avoided people in fear his hunger might rise, in fear he might snap and do the unforgivable. It was one thing to live with the memories  of an evil demon, enough to know that he'd  been too shallow, too stupid, to question what Darla offered him that night so long ago in Galway. 

He thought about his father, the disappointment in the old man's eyes whenever they fell on his son. He was a failure, nothing else. But instead of showing the world and himself his father was wrong, Liam had taken it as an excuse and fallen even deeper. He'd been a useless drunkard, he'd whored, hadn't cared for anyone but himself. Not that his father had his part of guilt, too, because he had. He'd been unforgiving, not understanding his son, who'd wanted to become an artist and not follow in his father's footsteps. But even though his father had been a hard man, if Angel had learned one thing over the centuries, it was that every person was responsible for his own actions. Meaning he was responsible for his' and nobody else.

Meaning also only he and nobody else  could make amends.

Not that he actually thought the things he'd done were amendable in any way, because they weren't. How could you amend the fact that a family had lost a father, a sister, a mother, or that whole villages had been extinguished by Angelus and Darla? And they hadn't died easy deaths. He and Darla had liked to play, and play with demons always equalled torture.

No, there were no amends for his deeds, he couldn't change his past, all he could do was move forward and make it better in the future. Angel was almost startled by the sudden realisation. Had he actually accepted his past? No, that wasn't possible. How could anyone accept a past like his? Nobody would-

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when Buffy's face rose in front of his inner eye, her laugh, her smile, the love shining from her hazel orbs, he remembered the one day when she'd kissed him at the ice rink. She had accepted him, demon and all. She had kissed him, not caring about his contorted features. He could still feel her tongue trailing over his prolonged canines, her fingertips caressing his protruding brows. She had done what he'd failed to do so far. She'd forgiven him.

It was a feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut, and Angel had to take several deep, unnecessary breaths to come to terms with this sudden realisation. In doing what she had Buffy had involuntarily shown him the way to his own salvation, but he'd been too blinded by pain and guilt to see it.

He heard the wheels of Spike's chair before he heard to blond vampire shout at Drusilla to stop her constant singing. She broke off instantly, then started crying instead, accusing Spike of not understanding her. Immediately her lover was at her side, trying to soothe her with whispered promises of a new puppy or a bird. She calmed down after a moment, Spike holding her in his arms, wagging her like a child.

Angel blocked out their voices, leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. His sudden realisation had opened a completely new world to him, he felt excited, almost free for the first time in hundred years. For the first time he was actually looking forward to the future. The question was, did he still have one?

… to be continued

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