LOST TOGETHER
X
Angel arrived at the Hyperion with the first of the workers. It was not quite seven o'clock and he was already dreading the long day ahead of him. He wondered how Cordelia would deal with last night's events. He wondered how he'd deal with Cordelia.
The lobby was dazzling in the early morning light that flooded in through the bank of windows along the east wall of the hotel. Angel stopped to admire the work they'd managed to accomplish over these past few months. Actually, Angel was amazed at just how much had been completed in his short absence yesterday.
"Angel."
Recognizing the voice, Angel turned with a smile. "Rupert," he said, extending his hand.
Rupert Giles took the offered hand and shook it firmly. "It's lovely, Angel. Really. Better than I could have hoped."
"Thank you, Rupert. But I didn't do it all by myself, you know," Angel said.
"Modesty doesn't become you," Rupert said, taking off his wire-rimmed glasses and polishing them with an oversized handkerchief. "I'm sorry that I came unannounced. I had a sudden desire for sunshine. British springs are so damp and miserable."
"Have you been upstairs?" Angel asked.
"Yes, actually. I was here fairly early. Had the whole place to myself. Well, me and my assistant," Giles smiled.
"Oh. Didn't know you had one," Angel said.
"Yes, I suddenly felt the need for one. She's around here somewhere, peeking into closets and making copious notes."
"Coffee?" Angel asked.
"Tea, if you could manage," Rupert said.
"No problem. Come on back." Angel led the way behind the front desk and into the office. At a small sink, he filled the kettle and plugged it in. He readied Wesley's teapot and checked the insides of a couple of mugs he found. Just as the water started to boil there was a knock on the wall beside the open door.
"Giles. Are you in there?"
"Yes. Come on in," Rupert replied.
Into the room stepped Rupert's assistant. "This is..."
"Willow," Angel said.
"Willow," Giles said simultaneously.
Willow stood still, the dust floating by her face, her expressive green eyes locked onto Angel's, the hissing kettle the only sound in the room. A beat and then:
"You know each other?" Rupert asked.
"No," Angel said. "Yes."
"Yes," Willow said.
"Splendid," Rupert said, moving toward the screeching kettle, unplugging it and pouring its contents into the teapot. "Tea, Willow?" he asked, reaching for another mug.
"That'd be great, Giles," she replied, pulling a chair up to a small table. Placing a fingertip across her lips, she cautioned Angel with her eyes.
There was something Angel should know. He felt it, like a name he couldn't quite recall, but was waiting to be said, on the very tip of his tongue. He waited for the jolt of recognition, the shimmer of light behind a closed door, knowledge.
Giles set the steaming mugs down on the table.
"There's milk in the frig if you need it, " Angel said, without taking his eyes from Willow's face.
"Great. Sugar, too, if you have it," Willow said sweetly.
"I'll wean you from sugar in your tea yet, Willow," Rupert griped.
Giles took milk from the frig, and searched the cupboard for the sugar and returned with them to the table. A cell phone went off and all three checked to see whose it was.
" Me," Rupert said. He pressed a button on the cell and said, "Yes." Willow and Angel watched while he listened and then, covering the mouthpiece, he whispered, "Sorry, I have to take this," and left the room.
"Do you know me?" Angel asked, immediately.
"Yes," Willow smiled, sympathetically.
"How do you know me?" Angel asked, hating the needy sound of his voice.
"Angel, you'll have to trust that, while now is not the time to spill everything I know..." she paused to incline her head toward the door, " I do know you."
"Are you here to help me?" Angel whispered.
"I'll do what I can. Have you seen her?"
"Buffy?"
Willow laughed and it was a joyful sound. "Of course, Buffy. Who else?"
Angel nodded his head.
"How is it that you know me? I mean up until a couple days ago I thought that I knew me...only to discover that I have this whole other life...that I'm a vampire in this other life..." Angel said the word vampire as if it were distasteful.
Willow rested a mug-warmed hand on Angle's forearm and squeezed. "The world is complicated, Angel, that's true. But you can't fight destiny. You can't argue with fate. You did that and it changed everything. What you have to do now is change it back."
"I don't understand," Angel said.
Withdrawing her hand and glancing up at the door Willow said, "You will. I promise."
XI
Cordelia awoke with a blinding headache and a belly full of remorse. The digital alarm assured her that she was late, but she made no move to get up from the bed.
"I am an idiot," she thought. "A complete freakin' idiot."
Not normally an impulsive person, the fourth margarita had convinced her that Angel would take one look at her soulful brown eyes and want her immediately. How whacked was that? Cordelia groaned. She was pretty sure she'd put her hand on his crotch. Was that sexual harassment? Could he fire her for that?
"I could call in sick," she thought. "I could call Wes on his cell and tell him I'm sick."
Dumb plan because she couldn't stay sick forever. Sooner or later she'd have to face Angel. And sooner than that, she'd have to face herself.
**
Buffy sipped the hot coffee and watched the streets below her come to life. She loved Los Angeles. She loved feeling anonymous. Why was it that she loved the idea that she could walk out into the crowded streets and disappear?
The ringing phone startled her and she reached for it quickly.
"Buffy," Angel said, his voice like velvet.
"Good morning."
"Can we get together?" Angel asked. "There's someone I think you should meet."
"Okay, when?" Buffy asked.
"How about ten o'clock?" Angel said, indicating where Buffy should meet him.
"Are you going to give me a hint?" Buffy asked.
"No, I don't think I will." Angel said.
**
By ten o'clock the day was positively steamy. Every breath that Buffy sucked into her lungs felt full of moisture. Despite her choice of attire: mini-skirt, tank, sandals, Buffy felt over-dressed. As she watched Angel approach, flanked by a red-haired girl, she wondered how he managed to look so cool in his long-sleeved black shirt and long black pants.
Face to face with the girl, Buffy recognized her immediately and wasn't sure how to react. For the Slayer, Willow Rosenberg was an important person: confidante, best friend, ally. In this life she was a mirage. Willow, however, gave Buffy no opportunity to over-analyze: she hugged her close.
"Weird, eh?" Willow said.
"Again with the understatement," Buffy smiled, cautiously.
Angel motioned to a grassy spot beneath a large elm and the trio moved to its shade.
"How do you fit into all of this?" Angel asked, impatiently.
Willow smiled. "It's actually not important how I fit into all this, not really. I'm a very small piece of the equation." She paused, and then continued. "You made a choice, Angel. It wasn't the right one. It upset the balance of things. See, in this life you're just some business guy who uses money to refurbish buildings. You live alone, you eat alone, you have sex alone..." Willow stopped and had the grace to blush. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Angel said.
"In the other life you're a warrior. You fight for the benefit of all mankind and, in some ways, for your own personal salvation. You balance good and evil. Angel, you fight with Buffy and because of Buffy."
Buffy looked up from the grass she'd been picking at and said, "And me?"
"You're the Slayer, Buffy. The one girl in all the world chosen to fight vampires and demons. In this life, you're just a girl."
"But what's wrong with being just a girl? What if I don't want to be a vampire slayer?" Buffy argued.
"You can't fight destiny. In the end, you just can't. And that's the deal with you two: Your souls are bound together for all eternity. This, all this, is like an illusion. It's not fake, really, but it's not flesh and blood either."
"Are you trying to say that none of this is real?" Angel asked, incredulously.
"The world operates on many different levels, Angel," Willow said, solicitously. "Not everything is as it seems."
Buffy nodded. "I get that now, sort of. But I don't get how it's supposed to change."
"It's complicated, I know. A few of the players are still missing, but then everything will fall into place. Trust me," Willow said.
XII
The air was full of smoke. Angel could smell blood all around him, blood and death and acrid smoke. His muscles were sore from the battle; he was not yet fully healed from Faith's poisoned arrow, although he suspected that he was in better shape than Buffy. She was a constant source of amazement to him, a constant source of joy.
Angel moved through the firefighters and emergency medical technicians and injured students and frantic parents. His eyes burned. Where was she? Little fingers of panic crawled up the column of his spine, one vertebrae at a time. He was about to scream her name when he saw her.
Just standing. Just waiting. And, for a moment, Angel wondered how he could give her up.
He searched for her eyes through the haze and confusion and for a second, time stretched...a long, silken strand binding each to the other.
Words formed in his head, but he could give them no voice. He didn't move. A breeze carried the ash-filled night across her beautiful face and he took a step back.
Beyond Buffy's shoulder he could see Willow. From this distance her eyes looked as black as the night, but she was smiling at him. And he knew. Knew it all.
Without hesitating he moved toward Buffy, watched her eyes fill with wary surprise, watched the tears course down her face, trails of silver in the soot.
Close but not touching, he whispered, "What if I didn't walk away? What if I had the courage to stay?"
"Have you?" Buffy whispered, hooking her little finger to his.
"I do," he said simply.
**
Angel woke up. He felt disoriented, exhausted. These dreams seemed more real each time he had one. He was normally a man who slept like the dead and it was disconcerting to be visited nightly by the ghosts of this other life. He sat up, the covers falling from his naked chest, and rubbed his hand across tired eyes.
In the dark room he wondered: is this what I did, walk away? Fought the good fight and then just walked away? What kind of a man was I? A harsh gasp escaped his mouth: He wasn't actually a man at all. Was that the problem?
Why did it seem that each clue made the puzzle seem more unsolvable? The dream at Lorne's had given him a sense of what his "other" life had been all about. Now this dream seemed to indicate a way in which he might fix things, but Angel had to admit that the guides sent to them by whomever was pulling the marionette strings had been cryptic, at best. Angel had always considered himself to be a simple, direct man and a man very much in charge of his own direction in life. Letting very few people in made it easier to come and go as he chose. Now, suddenly, there was a woman.
The dreams certainly seemed to indicate that, in this other life, she was important; no, beyond that, essential. But he had, indeed, walked away. Angel was pretty sure why he'd chosen to leave Buffy and Sunnydale behind, but he wasn't sure how that decision led to this life. And he wasn't sure, exactly, what he was supposed to do about it.
**
Dozing in the armchair, in front of the window overlooking the city, Buffy felt muddled when someone knocked sharply. She stood stiffly and stretched as she padded over to the door. Pulling it open, she was both surprised and not to find Angel standing there.
"Sorry, it's late," he started, drinking in the sight of her in pink satin drawstring pants and a tank. "I wasn't thinking of the time. I can come back."
Buffy reached out and took his hand, drawing him into the dark hotel room.
"It's okay. I wasn't sleeping, just resting. Sometimes I feel like I can go for days with hardly any sleep at all and then have to sleep for a week."
Angel nodded absently and surveyed the hotel room. "I just...I had some questions and I...well, it would appear that you're the only one who has any answers that don't sound like Morse code."
"I'm not sure how true that is," Buffy said, reaching under a shade to turn on a lamp.
"Leave it," Angel said, " if you don't mind?"
Nodding her head, Buffy returned to her armchair and curled her legs up underneath her. Angel sat on the ottoman.
"Where to start?" Angel said, softly.
Buffy watched him intently, but didn't say a word. Being near to him now, after their shared trance at Lorne's, was sensory overload. It didn't matter where she looked: collar, sleeve, shoe, what Buffy saw was the naked skin beneath.
"How did you know how to find Lorne?" Angel said. "Let's start there."
"There's this store in Sunnydale called The Magic Box. When I started having these dreams I was a little freaked and I went in there to see if I could find a book on hallucinating or past lives or reincarnation, you know, something to help me. The girl who owns the place, Anya, was really anxious to help me buy as many books as I needed, and when she saw the types of books I was after, she said she knew a great psychic in LA if I was interested. I took his name. When I was pretty sure I had found you, I contacted him."
"What about Willow? You didn't seem especially surprised when you saw her today," Angel asked.
"She's a bit trickier. She was in my dreams. My best friend in my dreams. She seems to have made the transition from that life to this life quite nicely, hasn't she?"
Angel nodded. "Does it make you wonder whether other people we're connected to have any part in this whole drama?"
"Sure. But I'm so weirded out I sometimes think the guy at the Doublemeat Palace knows me just a little better than he should."
Angel laughed. "That sounds right."
"What, that I should know the Doublemeat Palace guy?"
"No, the way you said that, the way you made a joke. It sounds familiar."
"Oh," Buffy smiled. "Actually, I'm way funny in that world. I make with the joking all the time. In this world, I feel as though I'm on prozac. What about you?"
"Me, no. I'm not typically funny in this life."
"You aren't in the other life, either," Buffy said, with a gentle smile.
"Tell me," Angel said. "Tell me about...well, me."
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that, Angel."
"It's asking a lot, I know, but when I look in the mirror I don't know who's looking back at me, business guy Angel or vampire Angel."
"Gee, I'd be nervous if those were my choices, too," Buffy quipped.
"Again with the funny," Angel said, his mouth curving into a beautiful smile.
"That," Buffy said, her laughter dying.
"What?"
"That smile. I remember that. You smiled so rarely. And usually, when you did, it was only for me and I can't explain to you what it was like...to stand in that smile. You have no idea what it was like to be the one..." Buffy's voice broke and she glanced out the window in an attempt to hide sudden tears.
"What one?" Angel asked gently.
Buffy turned shining eyes back to Angel and whispered, "The one you loved."
XIII
They talked until the sun spilled over the edge of the horizon, its beautiful pink glow painting the city inch by inch. Buffy could barely keep her eyes open, her eyelids felt like sandpaper rubbing mercilessly against vulnerable eyes. But, despite her exhaustion, she felt happy. Maybe this Angel wasn't a champion, but he was a good man. What prevented them from just staying here, in this life?
"I should go," Angel said, as he watched Buffy's lovely eyes fight to stay open.
"Don't..." Buffy murmured. "Stay."
Angel slid his muscular arms under Buffy's slight form and carried her effortlessly to the bed. She burrowed into his chest, sighed deeply, and snuggled closer.
"Just until I fall asleep, Angel," she said softly.
"Okay," Angel replied, pulling the sheet up to her waist.
In seconds her breath was deep, even, peaceful. A part of him wanted to lie beside her, trace the curves of shoulder and hip and thigh with his fingertips, to run his fingers through her golden hair, to awaken her with a kiss, to watch her pull herself up out of sleep like a flower: petals unfolding and reaching toward him like he was a sun.
And another part of him, a smaller part admittedly, wanted to stand, just like this, and watch her.
Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, Angel slipped out of the room.
**
After quick shower and cup of coffee, Angel made his way to the Hyperion. It felt as though he hadn't been there for days, had neglected his duties and the people who worked for him. Guilt, then, was responsible for the two large boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts he set down on the front desk.
"Cordelia? Wesley?" Angel called as he went behind the front desk and into the office.
Cordelia was on the phone and she looked up with an expression that could only be described as horrified.
Angel smiled. No point in making her feel any worse than he knew she already did. If the mere fact that she had come on to him didn't make her feel terrible, the booze certainly would have done the trick.
As Angel was glancing through a pile of phone messages, Wesley entered the office with his arms full of boxes and a mouth full of donut.
"Good morning, Wesley," Angel laughed.
"Good morning," Wesley mumbled around the chocolate glazed confection. Setting the boxes down on his desk, he removed the remains of the donut. "Good morning," he repeated.
"So, where are we?" Angel asked.
"Actually, we're in pretty good shape. The cleaners have already completed the top floor and should start their descent today. Spike will complete his work today."
"Spike?" Angel asked.
"The guy who's doing the ceramics in the lobby bathrooms. It's beautiful work. The man is absolutely poetic with tiles," Wesley smiled. He loved details and anyone who paid attention to them.
Cordelia hung up the phone and came to stand next to Wesley. "Who brought donuts?" she inquired.
"That was me," Angel admitted.
"You? You brought donuts?" Cordelia asked incredulously, some of the good-natured sarcasm she was famous for, evident in her voice. "Since when do you bring donuts?"
Angel shrugged. "Since I realized that I under-value the people I work with," he said.
"Any jelly-filled left?" Cordelia asked.
"The construction workers were doing some serious damage out there when I came through," Wesley said, as Cordelia headed toward the front desk, "so I grabbed you one."
Cordelia turned back with a Grand Canyon smile. "Thanks, Wes. And, thank you, Angel," she said, hoping her words conveyed much more than a cursory acknowledgement of the pastry.
"It's okay," Angel said, making direct eye contact with Cordelia. "Now, what's on the agenda for today?"
**
It was nearly noon when Buffy opened her eyes. She felt utterly rested and peaceful. Stretching like a cat in the pool of sunshine that skidded across her bed, Buffy reached for the phone.
Dialing the number she had already committed to memory, she waited patiently while it rang at the other end.
"Hyperion Hotel," a feminine voice said, cheerfully.
"May I speak with Angel, please. If he's there."
Less cheerful, but not quite rude, the voice said: "One moment, please." Buffy heard rustling as a hand was placed over the mouthpiece and a muffled, "Angel." More shuffling and then his voice.
"Hello."
"Good morning. Are you busy?"
Angel watched Cordelia duck her head back to the paperwork she'd been sorting through. "No, not busy," he replied, inordinately glad to hear her voice.
"I know that I've really messed up your deadlines, and everything, but I think we should arrange to see Willow again."
"You're probably right. I actually might be seeing her this afternoon when she comes by with Rupert."
Buffy swallowed. "Pardon me?"
"Rupert. She works with the man who is buying the Hyperion when it's all finished, Rupert Giles."
Buffy was silent.
"Buffy, are you okay?"
"Angel, what time are you expecting them?" Buffy asked.
"Around three, I think. Why?"
"Do you mind if I come over there, be there when they arrive?"
" No, of course not, come on over. Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Angel asked.
"Do you mind if I wait? I just want to be sure," Buffy said.
"Okay. Well, then, I'll see you around three."
Buffy hung up the phone and felt nervous excitement prickling her skin. Could it be true that the dream world and this world were colliding, she wondered. Could this Rupert Giles be her Rupert Giles?
XIV
Buffy entered the lobby of the Hyperion just before three. A hundred butterflies fluttered through her stomach and she quickly scanned the room looking for Angel. Spotting him did nothing to calm the butterflies, in fact, if it were possible, they were joined by a hundred more.
Standing by the front desk, the sunshine glancing off his steep cheek, his head tilted back in laughter, Angel was a vision. In her dreams, he was always a creature of the moonlight; a beautiful shadow hidden by the night. Whatever was to happen, Buffy wasn't sure she could ask him to give this up: his moment in the sun, to join her in the other life, a life led in darkness. She stood, palms tingling, and waited for him to see her.
Seconds later he acknowledged her arrival with a smile and moved to join her.
"Hi, Buffy," he said, grazing his finger across the back of her hand.
"Hi," she replied, aware of the finger and aware of the electricity making its way up the backs of her legs, through her crotch and into her stomach, setting the butterflies into motion once more.
"Rupert and Willow haven't arrived yet. Can I give you a little tour?"
"Sure, I'd like that," Buffy said.
He took her through the wide archway that led to the dining room: a splendid space with huge windows overlooking the courtyard that was a riot of spring colours. He walked her though the industrial kitchen, with its state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, still covered in a thin layer of plaster dust. He took her up, via the service elevator, to the top floor, clean and sparkling, waiting for the beds and bureaus to arrive. They descended the wide marble steps back into the lobby and Angel said, "I just want to check out the bathrooms. Apparently something poetic is happening in there. Come on." He pushed the door of the men's bathroom open and Buffy followed him inside.
A bleached blonde head was bent over a selection of Italian ceramic tiles.
"Hi, "Angel said, "you must be Spike."
The man uncurled himself and stood. "I am, mate," he said, turning. "And you must be...Angel." The name left his mouth in a smirk.
Angel nodded uncomfortably. "This is...
"Buffy. I know," the blonde man said, appraising Buffy lasciviously.
Just then, the door opened and Willow's red head poked through. "Oh, great, you've met. Come on then."
Angel and Buffy exchanged glances. Spike cocked his head and eyebrow simultaneously and moved past them.
"Come on you two. This is going to be entertaining." Spike pulled open the bathroom door and went out into the lobby.
"Do you know him?" Buffy asked Angel.
"I don't know. On some level I recognize him. Maybe I've used him before for some work or something," Angel shrugged. "Could this possibly get any more complicated?"
"How?" Buffy laughed. "But remember when we were talking and we wondered whether people from my dream world would actually turn up in this one, well I guess what with Willow and now, potentially, Spike we have the answer to that question."
Angel pulled open the bathroom door and stepped back to let Buffy out. The lobby was suspiciously empty of workers, but Willow was standing in the middle of the room facing away from them, talking to Spike. Cordelia and Wesley worried in the corner, whispering back and forth. And across the lobby, settled in a chair covered in protective plastic, reading a folded up newspaper, was Rupert Giles.
"Oh my God," Buffy whispered.
"What? What's wrong?" Angel asked.
Buffy inclined her head toward Giles. "Is that him? Is that your Rupert Giles?"
Angel nodded his confirmation and watched in dismay as Buffy's eyes filled with tears.
"Well, he's mine, too. My Watcher."
Willow clapped her hands sharply and then motioned for her to join them. "We're just waiting for one other person..."
A strange voice interrupted, "Did someone order a pizza?"
"And here he is," Willow finished, consulting her wristwatch. "Right on time."
**
Paper plates and napkins littered the floor of the Hyperion's lobby.
"I'm stuffed," Spike said, reaching for the package of smokes he kept tucked under the short sleeve of his t-shirt. "Can't remember a pizza ever tasting so good."
"Oh, I'm sorry, there's no smoking in the hotel," Wesley said.
"It's okay," Rupert said. "Let him smoke." He'd barely touched his pizza, barely taken his eyes off Buffy as she'd nibbled at the crust of her one and only slice.
The newest member of the group had wolfed down four pieces of the pie and then, spotting the Krispy Kreme box on the front desk, moved surreptitiously toward it.
"I think we should get started," Willow said.
"Started with what?" the new guy said, his mouth dusted with powdered sugar. "I'm just waiting for my money."
"Xander, shut up and sit down, would you?" Willow said sternly.
"Doing that right now," Xander mumbled.
"Willow, what is going on here?" Giles said, looking strangely uncomfortable with Willow's position of authority.
"I'm sorry, Rupert. You'll just need to be patient while I explain what's going on," Willow said. "I know it must be disconcerting for some of you to be here without fully understanding why. Buffy and Angel have a better sense of what's going on. Spike, well, you're more of a liability than anything but I had no choice..."
Spike winked lewdly, making Buffy's skin crawl.
"Giles, I know that this is difficult for you. I mean you thought I was this great assistant and everything..."
Rubbing his glasses absently, Giles said, "Not so great actually," and then he smiled, to soften the comment.
"Actually, what I am great at, as it turns out, is witchcraft," Willow said, with no small amount of pride evident in her voice.
"What about me?" Cordelia whined. "How did I get mixed up in all of this?"
"It's just the hand you were dealt, Cordelia" Willow said, sympathetically.
"Were you going to get somewhere, Willow?" Giles asked.
Willow's face fell. "Yes. I just...well, liked being the boss, for once..."
From her pocket, Willow withdrew a small crystal and a suede pouch. Placing them on the floor in front of her she said: "A little ways back Angel made a decision that changed the course of all our lives. You wouldn't think that possible, would you, but as Ray Bradbury wrote in `A Sound of Thunder" it really takes very little. Angel is important to the future. I know this because I had a dream. I saw what happens to all of us," she made eye contact with each person in the room, "and I decided to intervene."
"What do you mean...all of us?" Xander said. "I deliver pizza. I don't know what you people do, but I just deliver pizza."
Willow smiled at Xander as if he was a small child. "Yes, in this life that's what you do, but this isn't really your life."
Xander shook his head in confusion. "I don't get it?"
Willow smiled. "I conjured up this world, sort of a parallel dimension. It wasn't meant to last forever, eventually it would all fall away. The magick is only strong if we're together. Things had all fallen apart and I needed to fix them."
"I'm still not sure I understand, Willow," Buffy said.
"You said you couldn't breathe, remember?" Willow said.
"I remember," Buffy said, meeting Angel's eyes.
"I wanted you to want to find him," Willow said, softly. "I wasn't sure that you would do it on your own, so I did a little spell," she made her thumb and index finger illustrate the size of the spell, "to push you along. All I did, really, is create this little world where you'd go looking for Angel."
"I did want to find you," Buffy said, her eyes never leaving Angel's face.
"So, this is all fake then?" Spike asked. "Bloody hell, no wonder my back aches."
"So I never...?" Cordelia said.
Willow smiled, "Yes, Cordy, I'm afraid you did."
"Crap," Cordelia said under her breath.
"We're all here because we play a part in the Slayer's life, some of us to a greater extent than others. After you left, Angel, I did a spell."
"Wait a minute, you did a spell and made me human?" Angel asked.
"No. That I don't get. A side-effect maybe."
"And all this," Angel waved his hand. "A side-effect?"
Willow shrugged. "I got you together, didn't I?" she said, plaintively. "Clearly, I am more powerful than I thought. My spell just sort of created these alternate lives for all of us. I don't know why you're not a vampire."
Giles cleared his throat and said, "At this point I feel I should interject," He drifted closer to the group seated on the floor. "Are you sure it's wise to meddle in the affairs of the universe, Willow?"
"I'm not meddling, really, more like fiddling," she looked down at the crystal and pouch and picked them up. Handing them to Angel she said, "You'll need these to set things right, Angel. But I suppose you'll want to think about it...I mean, now that there's something to think about."
"Think about what?" Buffy asked.
Taking the objects from Willow, Angel nodded. The fact that he was human and that Willow had had nothing to do with that, was making him nervous. Something wasn't right about any of this and yet he felt like the decision had been taken from him. If he decided to stay here, Angel had the sinking feeling that Buffy would not be staying with him.
"Can I just get my money and get back to work, please?" Xander said.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Cordelia said, reaching for her purse and yanking two twenties from her wallet. "Here!"
Xander reached for the money and rolled his eyes, "Gee, thanks. Can I go, oh great witchie-poo?" he asked Willow.
"You're free to do as you wish," Willow said, breezily.
"Later, then," said Xander as he walked through the lobby and out into the late afternoon sunshine.
"Come with me back to my place?" Angel asked Buffy.
Nodding, Buffy stood and followed Angel out the door.
Willow glanced around at the remaining players in her drama and smiled.
...more to come
X
Angel arrived at the Hyperion with the first of the workers. It was not quite seven o'clock and he was already dreading the long day ahead of him. He wondered how Cordelia would deal with last night's events. He wondered how he'd deal with Cordelia.
The lobby was dazzling in the early morning light that flooded in through the bank of windows along the east wall of the hotel. Angel stopped to admire the work they'd managed to accomplish over these past few months. Actually, Angel was amazed at just how much had been completed in his short absence yesterday.
"Angel."
Recognizing the voice, Angel turned with a smile. "Rupert," he said, extending his hand.
Rupert Giles took the offered hand and shook it firmly. "It's lovely, Angel. Really. Better than I could have hoped."
"Thank you, Rupert. But I didn't do it all by myself, you know," Angel said.
"Modesty doesn't become you," Rupert said, taking off his wire-rimmed glasses and polishing them with an oversized handkerchief. "I'm sorry that I came unannounced. I had a sudden desire for sunshine. British springs are so damp and miserable."
"Have you been upstairs?" Angel asked.
"Yes, actually. I was here fairly early. Had the whole place to myself. Well, me and my assistant," Giles smiled.
"Oh. Didn't know you had one," Angel said.
"Yes, I suddenly felt the need for one. She's around here somewhere, peeking into closets and making copious notes."
"Coffee?" Angel asked.
"Tea, if you could manage," Rupert said.
"No problem. Come on back." Angel led the way behind the front desk and into the office. At a small sink, he filled the kettle and plugged it in. He readied Wesley's teapot and checked the insides of a couple of mugs he found. Just as the water started to boil there was a knock on the wall beside the open door.
"Giles. Are you in there?"
"Yes. Come on in," Rupert replied.
Into the room stepped Rupert's assistant. "This is..."
"Willow," Angel said.
"Willow," Giles said simultaneously.
Willow stood still, the dust floating by her face, her expressive green eyes locked onto Angel's, the hissing kettle the only sound in the room. A beat and then:
"You know each other?" Rupert asked.
"No," Angel said. "Yes."
"Yes," Willow said.
"Splendid," Rupert said, moving toward the screeching kettle, unplugging it and pouring its contents into the teapot. "Tea, Willow?" he asked, reaching for another mug.
"That'd be great, Giles," she replied, pulling a chair up to a small table. Placing a fingertip across her lips, she cautioned Angel with her eyes.
There was something Angel should know. He felt it, like a name he couldn't quite recall, but was waiting to be said, on the very tip of his tongue. He waited for the jolt of recognition, the shimmer of light behind a closed door, knowledge.
Giles set the steaming mugs down on the table.
"There's milk in the frig if you need it, " Angel said, without taking his eyes from Willow's face.
"Great. Sugar, too, if you have it," Willow said sweetly.
"I'll wean you from sugar in your tea yet, Willow," Rupert griped.
Giles took milk from the frig, and searched the cupboard for the sugar and returned with them to the table. A cell phone went off and all three checked to see whose it was.
" Me," Rupert said. He pressed a button on the cell and said, "Yes." Willow and Angel watched while he listened and then, covering the mouthpiece, he whispered, "Sorry, I have to take this," and left the room.
"Do you know me?" Angel asked, immediately.
"Yes," Willow smiled, sympathetically.
"How do you know me?" Angel asked, hating the needy sound of his voice.
"Angel, you'll have to trust that, while now is not the time to spill everything I know..." she paused to incline her head toward the door, " I do know you."
"Are you here to help me?" Angel whispered.
"I'll do what I can. Have you seen her?"
"Buffy?"
Willow laughed and it was a joyful sound. "Of course, Buffy. Who else?"
Angel nodded his head.
"How is it that you know me? I mean up until a couple days ago I thought that I knew me...only to discover that I have this whole other life...that I'm a vampire in this other life..." Angel said the word vampire as if it were distasteful.
Willow rested a mug-warmed hand on Angle's forearm and squeezed. "The world is complicated, Angel, that's true. But you can't fight destiny. You can't argue with fate. You did that and it changed everything. What you have to do now is change it back."
"I don't understand," Angel said.
Withdrawing her hand and glancing up at the door Willow said, "You will. I promise."
XI
Cordelia awoke with a blinding headache and a belly full of remorse. The digital alarm assured her that she was late, but she made no move to get up from the bed.
"I am an idiot," she thought. "A complete freakin' idiot."
Not normally an impulsive person, the fourth margarita had convinced her that Angel would take one look at her soulful brown eyes and want her immediately. How whacked was that? Cordelia groaned. She was pretty sure she'd put her hand on his crotch. Was that sexual harassment? Could he fire her for that?
"I could call in sick," she thought. "I could call Wes on his cell and tell him I'm sick."
Dumb plan because she couldn't stay sick forever. Sooner or later she'd have to face Angel. And sooner than that, she'd have to face herself.
**
Buffy sipped the hot coffee and watched the streets below her come to life. She loved Los Angeles. She loved feeling anonymous. Why was it that she loved the idea that she could walk out into the crowded streets and disappear?
The ringing phone startled her and she reached for it quickly.
"Buffy," Angel said, his voice like velvet.
"Good morning."
"Can we get together?" Angel asked. "There's someone I think you should meet."
"Okay, when?" Buffy asked.
"How about ten o'clock?" Angel said, indicating where Buffy should meet him.
"Are you going to give me a hint?" Buffy asked.
"No, I don't think I will." Angel said.
**
By ten o'clock the day was positively steamy. Every breath that Buffy sucked into her lungs felt full of moisture. Despite her choice of attire: mini-skirt, tank, sandals, Buffy felt over-dressed. As she watched Angel approach, flanked by a red-haired girl, she wondered how he managed to look so cool in his long-sleeved black shirt and long black pants.
Face to face with the girl, Buffy recognized her immediately and wasn't sure how to react. For the Slayer, Willow Rosenberg was an important person: confidante, best friend, ally. In this life she was a mirage. Willow, however, gave Buffy no opportunity to over-analyze: she hugged her close.
"Weird, eh?" Willow said.
"Again with the understatement," Buffy smiled, cautiously.
Angel motioned to a grassy spot beneath a large elm and the trio moved to its shade.
"How do you fit into all of this?" Angel asked, impatiently.
Willow smiled. "It's actually not important how I fit into all this, not really. I'm a very small piece of the equation." She paused, and then continued. "You made a choice, Angel. It wasn't the right one. It upset the balance of things. See, in this life you're just some business guy who uses money to refurbish buildings. You live alone, you eat alone, you have sex alone..." Willow stopped and had the grace to blush. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Angel said.
"In the other life you're a warrior. You fight for the benefit of all mankind and, in some ways, for your own personal salvation. You balance good and evil. Angel, you fight with Buffy and because of Buffy."
Buffy looked up from the grass she'd been picking at and said, "And me?"
"You're the Slayer, Buffy. The one girl in all the world chosen to fight vampires and demons. In this life, you're just a girl."
"But what's wrong with being just a girl? What if I don't want to be a vampire slayer?" Buffy argued.
"You can't fight destiny. In the end, you just can't. And that's the deal with you two: Your souls are bound together for all eternity. This, all this, is like an illusion. It's not fake, really, but it's not flesh and blood either."
"Are you trying to say that none of this is real?" Angel asked, incredulously.
"The world operates on many different levels, Angel," Willow said, solicitously. "Not everything is as it seems."
Buffy nodded. "I get that now, sort of. But I don't get how it's supposed to change."
"It's complicated, I know. A few of the players are still missing, but then everything will fall into place. Trust me," Willow said.
XII
The air was full of smoke. Angel could smell blood all around him, blood and death and acrid smoke. His muscles were sore from the battle; he was not yet fully healed from Faith's poisoned arrow, although he suspected that he was in better shape than Buffy. She was a constant source of amazement to him, a constant source of joy.
Angel moved through the firefighters and emergency medical technicians and injured students and frantic parents. His eyes burned. Where was she? Little fingers of panic crawled up the column of his spine, one vertebrae at a time. He was about to scream her name when he saw her.
Just standing. Just waiting. And, for a moment, Angel wondered how he could give her up.
He searched for her eyes through the haze and confusion and for a second, time stretched...a long, silken strand binding each to the other.
Words formed in his head, but he could give them no voice. He didn't move. A breeze carried the ash-filled night across her beautiful face and he took a step back.
Beyond Buffy's shoulder he could see Willow. From this distance her eyes looked as black as the night, but she was smiling at him. And he knew. Knew it all.
Without hesitating he moved toward Buffy, watched her eyes fill with wary surprise, watched the tears course down her face, trails of silver in the soot.
Close but not touching, he whispered, "What if I didn't walk away? What if I had the courage to stay?"
"Have you?" Buffy whispered, hooking her little finger to his.
"I do," he said simply.
**
Angel woke up. He felt disoriented, exhausted. These dreams seemed more real each time he had one. He was normally a man who slept like the dead and it was disconcerting to be visited nightly by the ghosts of this other life. He sat up, the covers falling from his naked chest, and rubbed his hand across tired eyes.
In the dark room he wondered: is this what I did, walk away? Fought the good fight and then just walked away? What kind of a man was I? A harsh gasp escaped his mouth: He wasn't actually a man at all. Was that the problem?
Why did it seem that each clue made the puzzle seem more unsolvable? The dream at Lorne's had given him a sense of what his "other" life had been all about. Now this dream seemed to indicate a way in which he might fix things, but Angel had to admit that the guides sent to them by whomever was pulling the marionette strings had been cryptic, at best. Angel had always considered himself to be a simple, direct man and a man very much in charge of his own direction in life. Letting very few people in made it easier to come and go as he chose. Now, suddenly, there was a woman.
The dreams certainly seemed to indicate that, in this other life, she was important; no, beyond that, essential. But he had, indeed, walked away. Angel was pretty sure why he'd chosen to leave Buffy and Sunnydale behind, but he wasn't sure how that decision led to this life. And he wasn't sure, exactly, what he was supposed to do about it.
**
Dozing in the armchair, in front of the window overlooking the city, Buffy felt muddled when someone knocked sharply. She stood stiffly and stretched as she padded over to the door. Pulling it open, she was both surprised and not to find Angel standing there.
"Sorry, it's late," he started, drinking in the sight of her in pink satin drawstring pants and a tank. "I wasn't thinking of the time. I can come back."
Buffy reached out and took his hand, drawing him into the dark hotel room.
"It's okay. I wasn't sleeping, just resting. Sometimes I feel like I can go for days with hardly any sleep at all and then have to sleep for a week."
Angel nodded absently and surveyed the hotel room. "I just...I had some questions and I...well, it would appear that you're the only one who has any answers that don't sound like Morse code."
"I'm not sure how true that is," Buffy said, reaching under a shade to turn on a lamp.
"Leave it," Angel said, " if you don't mind?"
Nodding her head, Buffy returned to her armchair and curled her legs up underneath her. Angel sat on the ottoman.
"Where to start?" Angel said, softly.
Buffy watched him intently, but didn't say a word. Being near to him now, after their shared trance at Lorne's, was sensory overload. It didn't matter where she looked: collar, sleeve, shoe, what Buffy saw was the naked skin beneath.
"How did you know how to find Lorne?" Angel said. "Let's start there."
"There's this store in Sunnydale called The Magic Box. When I started having these dreams I was a little freaked and I went in there to see if I could find a book on hallucinating or past lives or reincarnation, you know, something to help me. The girl who owns the place, Anya, was really anxious to help me buy as many books as I needed, and when she saw the types of books I was after, she said she knew a great psychic in LA if I was interested. I took his name. When I was pretty sure I had found you, I contacted him."
"What about Willow? You didn't seem especially surprised when you saw her today," Angel asked.
"She's a bit trickier. She was in my dreams. My best friend in my dreams. She seems to have made the transition from that life to this life quite nicely, hasn't she?"
Angel nodded. "Does it make you wonder whether other people we're connected to have any part in this whole drama?"
"Sure. But I'm so weirded out I sometimes think the guy at the Doublemeat Palace knows me just a little better than he should."
Angel laughed. "That sounds right."
"What, that I should know the Doublemeat Palace guy?"
"No, the way you said that, the way you made a joke. It sounds familiar."
"Oh," Buffy smiled. "Actually, I'm way funny in that world. I make with the joking all the time. In this world, I feel as though I'm on prozac. What about you?"
"Me, no. I'm not typically funny in this life."
"You aren't in the other life, either," Buffy said, with a gentle smile.
"Tell me," Angel said. "Tell me about...well, me."
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that, Angel."
"It's asking a lot, I know, but when I look in the mirror I don't know who's looking back at me, business guy Angel or vampire Angel."
"Gee, I'd be nervous if those were my choices, too," Buffy quipped.
"Again with the funny," Angel said, his mouth curving into a beautiful smile.
"That," Buffy said, her laughter dying.
"What?"
"That smile. I remember that. You smiled so rarely. And usually, when you did, it was only for me and I can't explain to you what it was like...to stand in that smile. You have no idea what it was like to be the one..." Buffy's voice broke and she glanced out the window in an attempt to hide sudden tears.
"What one?" Angel asked gently.
Buffy turned shining eyes back to Angel and whispered, "The one you loved."
XIII
They talked until the sun spilled over the edge of the horizon, its beautiful pink glow painting the city inch by inch. Buffy could barely keep her eyes open, her eyelids felt like sandpaper rubbing mercilessly against vulnerable eyes. But, despite her exhaustion, she felt happy. Maybe this Angel wasn't a champion, but he was a good man. What prevented them from just staying here, in this life?
"I should go," Angel said, as he watched Buffy's lovely eyes fight to stay open.
"Don't..." Buffy murmured. "Stay."
Angel slid his muscular arms under Buffy's slight form and carried her effortlessly to the bed. She burrowed into his chest, sighed deeply, and snuggled closer.
"Just until I fall asleep, Angel," she said softly.
"Okay," Angel replied, pulling the sheet up to her waist.
In seconds her breath was deep, even, peaceful. A part of him wanted to lie beside her, trace the curves of shoulder and hip and thigh with his fingertips, to run his fingers through her golden hair, to awaken her with a kiss, to watch her pull herself up out of sleep like a flower: petals unfolding and reaching toward him like he was a sun.
And another part of him, a smaller part admittedly, wanted to stand, just like this, and watch her.
Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, Angel slipped out of the room.
**
After quick shower and cup of coffee, Angel made his way to the Hyperion. It felt as though he hadn't been there for days, had neglected his duties and the people who worked for him. Guilt, then, was responsible for the two large boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts he set down on the front desk.
"Cordelia? Wesley?" Angel called as he went behind the front desk and into the office.
Cordelia was on the phone and she looked up with an expression that could only be described as horrified.
Angel smiled. No point in making her feel any worse than he knew she already did. If the mere fact that she had come on to him didn't make her feel terrible, the booze certainly would have done the trick.
As Angel was glancing through a pile of phone messages, Wesley entered the office with his arms full of boxes and a mouth full of donut.
"Good morning, Wesley," Angel laughed.
"Good morning," Wesley mumbled around the chocolate glazed confection. Setting the boxes down on his desk, he removed the remains of the donut. "Good morning," he repeated.
"So, where are we?" Angel asked.
"Actually, we're in pretty good shape. The cleaners have already completed the top floor and should start their descent today. Spike will complete his work today."
"Spike?" Angel asked.
"The guy who's doing the ceramics in the lobby bathrooms. It's beautiful work. The man is absolutely poetic with tiles," Wesley smiled. He loved details and anyone who paid attention to them.
Cordelia hung up the phone and came to stand next to Wesley. "Who brought donuts?" she inquired.
"That was me," Angel admitted.
"You? You brought donuts?" Cordelia asked incredulously, some of the good-natured sarcasm she was famous for, evident in her voice. "Since when do you bring donuts?"
Angel shrugged. "Since I realized that I under-value the people I work with," he said.
"Any jelly-filled left?" Cordelia asked.
"The construction workers were doing some serious damage out there when I came through," Wesley said, as Cordelia headed toward the front desk, "so I grabbed you one."
Cordelia turned back with a Grand Canyon smile. "Thanks, Wes. And, thank you, Angel," she said, hoping her words conveyed much more than a cursory acknowledgement of the pastry.
"It's okay," Angel said, making direct eye contact with Cordelia. "Now, what's on the agenda for today?"
**
It was nearly noon when Buffy opened her eyes. She felt utterly rested and peaceful. Stretching like a cat in the pool of sunshine that skidded across her bed, Buffy reached for the phone.
Dialing the number she had already committed to memory, she waited patiently while it rang at the other end.
"Hyperion Hotel," a feminine voice said, cheerfully.
"May I speak with Angel, please. If he's there."
Less cheerful, but not quite rude, the voice said: "One moment, please." Buffy heard rustling as a hand was placed over the mouthpiece and a muffled, "Angel." More shuffling and then his voice.
"Hello."
"Good morning. Are you busy?"
Angel watched Cordelia duck her head back to the paperwork she'd been sorting through. "No, not busy," he replied, inordinately glad to hear her voice.
"I know that I've really messed up your deadlines, and everything, but I think we should arrange to see Willow again."
"You're probably right. I actually might be seeing her this afternoon when she comes by with Rupert."
Buffy swallowed. "Pardon me?"
"Rupert. She works with the man who is buying the Hyperion when it's all finished, Rupert Giles."
Buffy was silent.
"Buffy, are you okay?"
"Angel, what time are you expecting them?" Buffy asked.
"Around three, I think. Why?"
"Do you mind if I come over there, be there when they arrive?"
" No, of course not, come on over. Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Angel asked.
"Do you mind if I wait? I just want to be sure," Buffy said.
"Okay. Well, then, I'll see you around three."
Buffy hung up the phone and felt nervous excitement prickling her skin. Could it be true that the dream world and this world were colliding, she wondered. Could this Rupert Giles be her Rupert Giles?
XIV
Buffy entered the lobby of the Hyperion just before three. A hundred butterflies fluttered through her stomach and she quickly scanned the room looking for Angel. Spotting him did nothing to calm the butterflies, in fact, if it were possible, they were joined by a hundred more.
Standing by the front desk, the sunshine glancing off his steep cheek, his head tilted back in laughter, Angel was a vision. In her dreams, he was always a creature of the moonlight; a beautiful shadow hidden by the night. Whatever was to happen, Buffy wasn't sure she could ask him to give this up: his moment in the sun, to join her in the other life, a life led in darkness. She stood, palms tingling, and waited for him to see her.
Seconds later he acknowledged her arrival with a smile and moved to join her.
"Hi, Buffy," he said, grazing his finger across the back of her hand.
"Hi," she replied, aware of the finger and aware of the electricity making its way up the backs of her legs, through her crotch and into her stomach, setting the butterflies into motion once more.
"Rupert and Willow haven't arrived yet. Can I give you a little tour?"
"Sure, I'd like that," Buffy said.
He took her through the wide archway that led to the dining room: a splendid space with huge windows overlooking the courtyard that was a riot of spring colours. He walked her though the industrial kitchen, with its state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, still covered in a thin layer of plaster dust. He took her up, via the service elevator, to the top floor, clean and sparkling, waiting for the beds and bureaus to arrive. They descended the wide marble steps back into the lobby and Angel said, "I just want to check out the bathrooms. Apparently something poetic is happening in there. Come on." He pushed the door of the men's bathroom open and Buffy followed him inside.
A bleached blonde head was bent over a selection of Italian ceramic tiles.
"Hi, "Angel said, "you must be Spike."
The man uncurled himself and stood. "I am, mate," he said, turning. "And you must be...Angel." The name left his mouth in a smirk.
Angel nodded uncomfortably. "This is...
"Buffy. I know," the blonde man said, appraising Buffy lasciviously.
Just then, the door opened and Willow's red head poked through. "Oh, great, you've met. Come on then."
Angel and Buffy exchanged glances. Spike cocked his head and eyebrow simultaneously and moved past them.
"Come on you two. This is going to be entertaining." Spike pulled open the bathroom door and went out into the lobby.
"Do you know him?" Buffy asked Angel.
"I don't know. On some level I recognize him. Maybe I've used him before for some work or something," Angel shrugged. "Could this possibly get any more complicated?"
"How?" Buffy laughed. "But remember when we were talking and we wondered whether people from my dream world would actually turn up in this one, well I guess what with Willow and now, potentially, Spike we have the answer to that question."
Angel pulled open the bathroom door and stepped back to let Buffy out. The lobby was suspiciously empty of workers, but Willow was standing in the middle of the room facing away from them, talking to Spike. Cordelia and Wesley worried in the corner, whispering back and forth. And across the lobby, settled in a chair covered in protective plastic, reading a folded up newspaper, was Rupert Giles.
"Oh my God," Buffy whispered.
"What? What's wrong?" Angel asked.
Buffy inclined her head toward Giles. "Is that him? Is that your Rupert Giles?"
Angel nodded his confirmation and watched in dismay as Buffy's eyes filled with tears.
"Well, he's mine, too. My Watcher."
Willow clapped her hands sharply and then motioned for her to join them. "We're just waiting for one other person..."
A strange voice interrupted, "Did someone order a pizza?"
"And here he is," Willow finished, consulting her wristwatch. "Right on time."
**
Paper plates and napkins littered the floor of the Hyperion's lobby.
"I'm stuffed," Spike said, reaching for the package of smokes he kept tucked under the short sleeve of his t-shirt. "Can't remember a pizza ever tasting so good."
"Oh, I'm sorry, there's no smoking in the hotel," Wesley said.
"It's okay," Rupert said. "Let him smoke." He'd barely touched his pizza, barely taken his eyes off Buffy as she'd nibbled at the crust of her one and only slice.
The newest member of the group had wolfed down four pieces of the pie and then, spotting the Krispy Kreme box on the front desk, moved surreptitiously toward it.
"I think we should get started," Willow said.
"Started with what?" the new guy said, his mouth dusted with powdered sugar. "I'm just waiting for my money."
"Xander, shut up and sit down, would you?" Willow said sternly.
"Doing that right now," Xander mumbled.
"Willow, what is going on here?" Giles said, looking strangely uncomfortable with Willow's position of authority.
"I'm sorry, Rupert. You'll just need to be patient while I explain what's going on," Willow said. "I know it must be disconcerting for some of you to be here without fully understanding why. Buffy and Angel have a better sense of what's going on. Spike, well, you're more of a liability than anything but I had no choice..."
Spike winked lewdly, making Buffy's skin crawl.
"Giles, I know that this is difficult for you. I mean you thought I was this great assistant and everything..."
Rubbing his glasses absently, Giles said, "Not so great actually," and then he smiled, to soften the comment.
"Actually, what I am great at, as it turns out, is witchcraft," Willow said, with no small amount of pride evident in her voice.
"What about me?" Cordelia whined. "How did I get mixed up in all of this?"
"It's just the hand you were dealt, Cordelia" Willow said, sympathetically.
"Were you going to get somewhere, Willow?" Giles asked.
Willow's face fell. "Yes. I just...well, liked being the boss, for once..."
From her pocket, Willow withdrew a small crystal and a suede pouch. Placing them on the floor in front of her she said: "A little ways back Angel made a decision that changed the course of all our lives. You wouldn't think that possible, would you, but as Ray Bradbury wrote in `A Sound of Thunder" it really takes very little. Angel is important to the future. I know this because I had a dream. I saw what happens to all of us," she made eye contact with each person in the room, "and I decided to intervene."
"What do you mean...all of us?" Xander said. "I deliver pizza. I don't know what you people do, but I just deliver pizza."
Willow smiled at Xander as if he was a small child. "Yes, in this life that's what you do, but this isn't really your life."
Xander shook his head in confusion. "I don't get it?"
Willow smiled. "I conjured up this world, sort of a parallel dimension. It wasn't meant to last forever, eventually it would all fall away. The magick is only strong if we're together. Things had all fallen apart and I needed to fix them."
"I'm still not sure I understand, Willow," Buffy said.
"You said you couldn't breathe, remember?" Willow said.
"I remember," Buffy said, meeting Angel's eyes.
"I wanted you to want to find him," Willow said, softly. "I wasn't sure that you would do it on your own, so I did a little spell," she made her thumb and index finger illustrate the size of the spell, "to push you along. All I did, really, is create this little world where you'd go looking for Angel."
"I did want to find you," Buffy said, her eyes never leaving Angel's face.
"So, this is all fake then?" Spike asked. "Bloody hell, no wonder my back aches."
"So I never...?" Cordelia said.
Willow smiled, "Yes, Cordy, I'm afraid you did."
"Crap," Cordelia said under her breath.
"We're all here because we play a part in the Slayer's life, some of us to a greater extent than others. After you left, Angel, I did a spell."
"Wait a minute, you did a spell and made me human?" Angel asked.
"No. That I don't get. A side-effect maybe."
"And all this," Angel waved his hand. "A side-effect?"
Willow shrugged. "I got you together, didn't I?" she said, plaintively. "Clearly, I am more powerful than I thought. My spell just sort of created these alternate lives for all of us. I don't know why you're not a vampire."
Giles cleared his throat and said, "At this point I feel I should interject," He drifted closer to the group seated on the floor. "Are you sure it's wise to meddle in the affairs of the universe, Willow?"
"I'm not meddling, really, more like fiddling," she looked down at the crystal and pouch and picked them up. Handing them to Angel she said, "You'll need these to set things right, Angel. But I suppose you'll want to think about it...I mean, now that there's something to think about."
"Think about what?" Buffy asked.
Taking the objects from Willow, Angel nodded. The fact that he was human and that Willow had had nothing to do with that, was making him nervous. Something wasn't right about any of this and yet he felt like the decision had been taken from him. If he decided to stay here, Angel had the sinking feeling that Buffy would not be staying with him.
"Can I just get my money and get back to work, please?" Xander said.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Cordelia said, reaching for her purse and yanking two twenties from her wallet. "Here!"
Xander reached for the money and rolled his eyes, "Gee, thanks. Can I go, oh great witchie-poo?" he asked Willow.
"You're free to do as you wish," Willow said, breezily.
"Later, then," said Xander as he walked through the lobby and out into the late afternoon sunshine.
"Come with me back to my place?" Angel asked Buffy.
Nodding, Buffy stood and followed Angel out the door.
Willow glanced around at the remaining players in her drama and smiled.
...more to come