Disclaimer: see chapter 1
DIMENSIONS: chapter 6 – A Meeting of Two Halves
A:
Giles read through the spell again and glanced over the ingredients, nodding.
"You've prepared everything?" he asked the girls, who were sitting together on the sofa.
Tara smiled her half-smile. "I – I think so."
"I'm sure," said Willow. Giles picked up the vial of phoenix feather and shook it gently, wondering why Willow seemed at once much happier and much more confident these days.
"I suggest we don't use all the elixir or the ebony the first time," he said, thoughtfully. "If we hit the wrong dimension we may have to try again. It all centres on Angel visualising where he wants to be strongly enough."
"What's he going to do when he's there?" asked Xander from the armchair, where he was looking on with interest.
"That," said Giles, "is rather up to Angel, I'm afraid."
They began an hour after sunset. When Angel had arrived he had helped Giles and Xander move the furniture out of the way and they rolled the carpet aside. Nobody said very much, and when the floorboards were exposed Willow and Tara began chalking marks on them. Xander gave his friends a hug and Angel a brief smile and disappeared for a rendezvous with Anya, and they were alone.
Giles went round the room and lit candles and switched out the lamps and then started setting the ingredients ready for the small pewter cauldron which Tara had placed carefully at the edge of the circle. In the short hallway a dark shape was pacing.
They settled down at nine o'clock, the marks chalked neatly and clearly, a small fire burning under the cauldron. Tara asked Angel to sit down in the centre of the circle.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" said Giles, before they started. "Visualise it strongly."
"Anywhere where we're together," Angel replied briefly. He closed his eyes. "Go on."
Tara, Willow and Giles took their allotted ingredients and glanced at each other. Tara nodded, and in a clear, firm voice with no stammer, no stutter, began the chant.
"Goddess of love and of light, hear our request." She cast a handful of thyme into the cauldron and at once a sweet, burnt smell drifted into the air.
"Goddess of time and of care, hear our request." Willow added dried seaweed to the thyme, the thin spiral of smoke turning a musky purple.
"Goddess of knowledge and of truth," chanted Giles, "hear our request." Dark oil was added to the herbs already in the cauldron.
"Grant this our plea," they said together, "that the body and soul of this man may be given safe passage out of this world and into that of his wishes, that he may find what he seeks and return to his place in security. Grant this our plea." Carefully Tara added the thin liquid of the elixir of phoenix feather, and scattered ebony gratings over the whole. The room was filled with the deep, heavy scent of the mixture, and almost as if drawn by a force, Angel's body fell gently to the ground where he lay, unmoving.
"Goddess of all, grant our request!" the three chanted in unison. There was a blinding flash from the cauldron, which fell over, the fire out; and when they opened their eyes again, Angel was gone.
B:
"I'm tired," Angel said softly into Buffy's ear. "Do you mind if I go home? You stay here with Willow and the others. I've got a stake and it's only a short way."
Buffy frowned and then pouted in mock-misery, though her eyes were shining with the happiness of the night.
"All right," she said, eventually. "But I'm calling as soon as I get back to the dorm and if you're not in …"
"I'll be fine," Angel reassured her, giving her a soft kiss. "And you look after yourself, my darling. There's two of you now."
She smiled, and he got up and said goodbye to the others, and putting his hands in his pockets strolled out.
Outside the Bronze the night was cool and calm. Small groups of people wandered to and fro around the club, couples with their arms around each other, friends laughing. Angel grinned to himself and rounded the corner, part of him watchful, part of him relaxed and happy.
He noticed the lonely figure before the figure noticed him, something flicking the switch of recognition in his mind. Angel stopped and watched the shadow in the corner, and then, as the other stepped hesitantly out into the yellow light from the streetlamp, his mouth dropped open and he froze.
He knew that face. It was still new to him, and there was still a little moment of surprise every time he looked in the mirror, but he knew it because it was his. And the clothes, he knew them too. Angel glanced down at his coat. The same old leather one.
For several minutes he did not move, but stood and studied his double. A rare chance, to see how you yourself move and stand, he thought – but there was something not quite right about the other Angel. A certain sag to the shoulders, a certain pallor to the face in the streetlight. A certain … motionless quality.
His mind burning with curiosity, Angel took a step towards the other, towards his double, and then froze again as an even more familiar figure melted out of the darkness and halted, a cigarette between his lips, next to the first one. Angel strained his ears to listen.
"Somethin' got your tongue, at last?" Spike said mockingly.
Angel stared at him, his mind working double-speed to work out why Spike was in Sunnydale again, what had brought his grandchilde to the Hellmouth – without Drusilla, apparently.
"No," he managed. "Have you … have you seen Buffy?"
"Thought you two were Bronzin' tonight," Spike said, puffing on his cigarette. "Forgotten? Getting tired of her already?"
"Never," said Angel, meaning it. "Never. Spike, I …"
But Spike was staring at him, as if something had just occurred to him, and he cocked his head on one side.
"You're dead," he pointed out. "You're a bleedin' … was it the Gem of bloody Amara all this time? How'd you fool 'em all? I thought you'd smashed it."
"I did smash it," Angel explained, "I … it's a …"
Spike laughed. "Slayer'll be pleased when she hears about this one, sure enough!" he said, still laughing. "And I can tell you, mate, she'll – "
He broke off, and turned around, and then looked back at Angel standing under the streetlight, and then back to the Angel who had just come up behind them both.
"Fuckin' hell!" Spike swore.
Angel, his heart beating a little faster in his chest, gazed at his double. But his double was not looking at him, instead staring at Spike.
"What the hell?" Spike said, looking frantically between the two Angels. "Some spell of Red's? Jesus Christ, Angelus. I hate this town."
"Don't call me that!" Angel told him angrily. "He's gone, gone for good."
His double had gone an even whiter shade of pale, if at all possible, and with burning dark eyes was staring at him.
"Don't call you that?" he whispered. "But that was my name."
"It was our name," Angel replied. He turned to Spike. "Spike …"
"Yeah, I know, you want me to get lost. Fine." The blond vampire started to walk away, shaking his head. "Bleedin' Hellmouth."
Angel turned back to his double who still appeared to be frozen.
"Is this what I look like?" he said. "Is this me? Are you me?"
"I think so," Angel answered. "I think so. But I can't think why you're here."
His double looked down at his hands in a gesture that was achingly familiar to Angel, though he realised he scarcely ever did it anymore. "Cordelia had a vision," he began.
They sat side by side on a bench, both unconsciously fiddling with the claddagh ring on their ring fingers, and Angel, his breath clouding in the cold air, looked again at his double.
"It was when we ran in with the Mohra," he said, shrugging. "Remember?"
"All too well."
"I went to the Oracles. But they refused to turn me back, they refused to do anything. I couldn't do a thing." He paused. "I didn't want to do a thing. I've moved here. I've got a new house, with windows. Buffy and I … we go on picnics." He smiled to himself. "And she's pregnant."
The other Angel closed his eyes. "So you're happy?"
"Yes."
"Good." The vampire tried to smile. "Good. I'm glad."
"You're not."
"No, I am, really."
"Angel …" Angel paused. "That sounds weird. Angel, you're talking to yourself, you fool. From what you said, you're me, only from another world where our lives took a slightly different path a few weeks ago. Only a few weeks."
"Weeks in the sunshine," the vampire Angel said bitterly. "Weeks with Buffy. Weeks I can't have."
"If it's any comfort, there are … things I miss."
Angel raised his eyebrows at his human other, listening to the heartbeat next to him with envy. "You have that, and you miss things about this? This wretched existence?"
"I can't fight," his double said. "I've got bruises all over from bumping into things and they won't go away. I get tired and hungry, I can't keep up with Buffy when she runs. I'd give … not anything, but something, to have back even a little of that speed and strength. And I still remember."
"Such a burden," Angel threw back, with a flash of old sarcasm. "My heart bleeds for you."
"I'm not trying to say," the human Angel said, "that I'm not overjoyed at it all. I'm just trying to explain what it feels like. That day, that first day, that was perfection."
"It was."
"Hold that memory. It'll keep you strong."
"And Buffy?" Angel's voice was soft, a murmur.
Angel smiled to himself in the darkness, and sighed a sigh of perfect bliss. "She's happy too." They fell quiet, each busy with his own thoughts. "Why was it Cordelia that had the vision?" he asked the vampire, after a while. "Why not Doyle?"
"Has that changed too?" The other Angel's face was blank and emotionless, only the eyes showing something. "Doyle … Doyle died, in my world, he sacrificed himself. Gave Cordy the visions as a parting gift, poor girl. For an while it was tough, but we have Wesley to help now."
"The Watcher?"
"Rogue demon slayer, apparently." Angel smiled briefly. "He's a help. A great help. I'd miss them both if they weren't there."
"There you go!" said Angel, nodding. "There's something you have that I don't. I … I was beginning to enjoy having Cordelia around, and Doyle too, but I hadn't got to the stage of thinking I'd miss them." He shrugged. "Actually, I do miss them, but I know I can call whenever I want to."
They stopped talking again. Somewhere near the campus a clock struck ten. Angel jumped up at the sound, glancing at his own watch as he did so.
"I have to get home. Buffy said she'd call. She'll be furious if I'm not in, and worried, and I can't have her running around looking for me, not now."
The vampire Angel looked up. "She'll be fine."
"She's pregnant! A Slayer's never been pregnant before!" Angel calmed down a little. "Sorry. I worry. I know being pregnant's not such a big deal these days, but I worry."
"She'll be fine," his double repeated, calmly. "I'm more concerned about you – about me – about us. Whatever. Look behind you."
Angel spun around and froze.
"It's the Slayer's boyfriend!" laughed the bulky male vampire at the front of the little group of three. "With that lovely heartbeat. Waiting to be stopped."
"I'm waiting for her," Angel said, gripping the stake in his pocket and wondering how much damage he could do with it. Out of the corner of his eye he could no longer see his double. "You'd be best going."
"I like them when they talk big," the girl murmured, and laughed. "More fun."
"It's not, really," Angel returned, sizing her up. In some ways, he decided, she reminded him of Drusilla. "It's more fun when they scream and kick."
The third vampire raised a pair of bristly eyebrows. "Wisdom from the ex- Scourge of Europe. It so is time someone just ate you!" His eyes widened under the eyebrows and he said, surprised, "what the?" before bursting into dust and disappearing.
Angel nodded, grateful, at his double and launched a quick surprise attack at the girl who had no time to react before she too exploded. The other Angel made short work of the remaining vampire, and the group was gone.
Angel turned to check the surrounding area, his breath coming short and fast. Beside him his other self was idly brushing dust off the leather jacket, but otherwise seemed fine.
"Thank you," Angel said, meaning it. "Perhaps it's silly thanking yourself, but thank you."
"I couldn't see you die," his double said. "I wanted to come here to find out whether Cordelia had seen clearly, whether you were human and with Buffy. I don't know what I thought it'd bring me. Part of me is furious it's you, I mean you in this dimension, who has the happiness. Part of me …" He smiled, properly this time, "part of me is glad I get what I wanted somewhere. Maybe it'll even make it easier to cope back home."
"Remember I know how tough it is," Angel replied, seriously.
"I know. I know. We know."
"We do."
Angel nodded in return and examined his human counterpart closely, even as he himself was being examined. With the initial shock gone he was able to see the differences; the brighter clothes, a more constant and broader smile, a positive outlook on life – and there, he thought wryly to himself, was the biggest difference of all. Life. Air and blood moving in one body and not in the other, simply because in one dimension the Oracles had said "yes," whereas in another they had said "no."
"Look after her," he said softly, meeting the other Angel's eyes. "She deserves happiness."
"So do we," remarked Angel. "One day maybe your chance'll come. Look after yourself. And your Cordelia. It's been … interesting."
"Pleasanter than when Willow's double came to visit," the vampire Angel agreed. "Much pleasanter. You'd better get home, Buffy will be worrying."
Angel nodded and turned around, and walked to the edge of the grass. When he glanced backwards his double was still there, and he raised a hand in salutation before hurrying off towards home.
A:
Tara, dozing in an armchair, woke with a start.
"Will!" she cried out, standing up, blankets falling to the floor. "Willow!"
Willow's nose peeped out of her blankets. "Am I late for the ceremony?" she asked, and then more of her emerged and she sat up. "Tara. What's the matter?"
"I think he's on his way back. Can't you feel it?"
Willow shook off her blankets and went to her friend, taking her hand, and she nodded. "I can feel it. Can we do anything?"
"No. We wait."
Hand in hand, they waited, feeling a tremor under their feet growing louder and stronger. And then, another blinding, roaring flash that threw both girls to their knees, Tara muttering a protection spell desperately under her breath. Giles appeared at the top of his stairs, putting on his glasses and shouting over the noise.
Silence fell. The glasses in the kitchen stopped rattling. Giles got down the last few steps and joined the girls, who were staring at the motionless figure on the floor. Nobody dared move. Tara swallowed. And finally, the figure rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, Angel!" exclaimed Willow, and ran to help him up.
Giles took off his glasses again. Willow sat Angel down and perched next to him on the arm of the sofa, Tara hovering nearby.
"Well?" the redhead asked.
Angel nodded. "I got there. The spell worked."
"And?" questioned Giles, obviously full of academic interest.
Angel told them, his words even and unemotional, with the three others hanging on to every sentence. Giles had found a pen a minute into the recital and was noting things down in a little diary.
"And did you see Buffy?" said Willow, at the end, eagerly. "I mean, his Buffy, that world's Buffy …"
"No." Angel shrugged. "I don't know what I'd have said to her. She has me. We're together there. There, she's … she's pregnant." Willow squeaked and grabbed Tara's hand, a big grin on her face. Giles stood up and started looking through books, absorbed in research. "But that's there. Here, she's in love with that … that Riley person, and I have work to do. Tara."
"Y … yes?" stammered Tara, shocked at being addressed.
"Tara, my aura. Describe that line of gold again."
"It – it's thin, but strong," the witch said. "Very very pure gold. Unbroken and unbreakable."
"Unbreakable. That's the important part. Are you sure, quite sure?"
"Positive. It's not been there very long."
Giles put down his book and looked very intently at Tara. "Tara, would this line be Angel's soul?"
Tara shrugged nervously. "I – don't – it could be. Probably." Willow squealed a noise of pure joy and threw her arms around Angel, who patted her awkwardly on the back before relaxing and returning the hug. Giles smiled, watching them, and Tara blushed a bright red and then shyly joined the pair.
B:
"More ice-cream, sweetheart?" Angel perched on the edge of the bed and displayed the carton. "Cookie dough etc. Your favourite."
Buffy smiled happily and opened her mouth for the spoon. "I think I'll be pregnant more often if I get to be fed ice-cream by you all the time." Angel absently ate some himself, and Buffy squeaked in annoyance.
"Sorry." He spooned more into her mouth.
"Forgiven," she said through cookie dough. "So, what are we going to call her?" She held out a hand for the carton.
"You seem so sure the baby's a she," Angel returned, running a thoughtful finger down Buffy's duvet-covered leg.
"Hello, I'm the Slayer?" she reminded him. "We're a female-orientated species."
"Theoretically there's a fifty-fifty chance of a boy," Angel said.
"Do you mind?" Buffy asked, putting down the spoon and turning her attention to him. Angel shrugged.
"No." He shook his head. "No, of course not. It's a baby, one I thought I'd never had. But I suppose there's a part of me still stuck in the eighteenth century, where boys were profitable, and girls … weren't. Sorry. I want to be a better father than mine was. I think we should call her Amazing."
Buffy hit him with a well-aimed pillow. "This is serious. I'd like to call her Joyce Willow Cordelia Anya Tara, but it's not very good."
"How about Kathleen?" Angel found himself suggesting, though he was not sure where the thought had come from. "Kathleen Jennifer."
Buffy smiled. "That's pretty. But why?" She pleated the duvet cover. "I mean, Jennifer I get, but not Kathleen."
"Kathleen was my sister's name." Angel looked down at his hands and then remembered he was trying not to, and looked up to meet Buffy's eyes. "My oldest sister. She was the sweetest girl, devout and pretty. She always defended me against my father and told me off in private." He blinked away a tear. "She let me into the house that first night. She was my first kill. She said she thought I was an angel."
"So the name," Buffy realised. She held out her arms to Angel and he moved to settle into them, leaning his head against her stomach. "I think it's a lovely name. And if it's a boy? Any family suggestions? I'm not calling him Hank."
"Giles?" proposed Angel. "As a first name it's fine."
"What were you called?" Buffy peered lopsidedly down at him.
"Liam."
"Liam what? You know, my kid has to have a second name too."
"What's wrong with Summers?" asked Angel, listening to the baby move gently. "That's incredible."
"Summers? No, it's – oh, the baby. I want to be traditional." Her face grew serious. "Besides, all things taken, you have a better chance of survival than me, and then it should have your second name. Plus, if you ever want a job or anything, you're kind of going to need one. Just Angel's fine for a vamp, but not for a person."
"It's ironical, really," Angel said, sitting up. "I was Liam Riley. I'm afraid you seem to have exchanged one Riley for another."
"I prefer this one. Liam Giles Riley? Giles Liam Riley? Liam Giles." She sighed happily. "There."
A:
"There you are!" said Cordelia. "There's cheques to sign."
Angel took the pen and the cheque book and signed them, and Cordelia took the book back. "That's the first time you've not complained. What happened?"
"I met me," said Angel. "In the other dimension the Oracles didn't turn me back. I'm human, and with Buffy." He smiled. "But I have good news here, too. You can throw away whatever anti-Angelus equipment you have in that drawer, Cordy."
Wesley looked up and took notice of the conversation. "What did you say?"
"I didn't, but – apparently my soul's permanent. Nothing can take it away from me again. I'm still a vampire, but I can be happy."
Cordelia smiled broadly and happily, and got up from her chair to hug her employer. "And Buffy?" she asked.
Angel opened the door to his office. "I'll wait. She's happy, she's with someone, but I can wait. I have forever." He nodded at them both and closed the door behind him.
"Cappucino?" suggested Wesley.
"Absolutely." Cordelia gathered up her coat and they went out. "I wonder if we should tell him about that demon club we found …"
DIMENSIONS: chapter 6 – A Meeting of Two Halves
A:
Giles read through the spell again and glanced over the ingredients, nodding.
"You've prepared everything?" he asked the girls, who were sitting together on the sofa.
Tara smiled her half-smile. "I – I think so."
"I'm sure," said Willow. Giles picked up the vial of phoenix feather and shook it gently, wondering why Willow seemed at once much happier and much more confident these days.
"I suggest we don't use all the elixir or the ebony the first time," he said, thoughtfully. "If we hit the wrong dimension we may have to try again. It all centres on Angel visualising where he wants to be strongly enough."
"What's he going to do when he's there?" asked Xander from the armchair, where he was looking on with interest.
"That," said Giles, "is rather up to Angel, I'm afraid."
They began an hour after sunset. When Angel had arrived he had helped Giles and Xander move the furniture out of the way and they rolled the carpet aside. Nobody said very much, and when the floorboards were exposed Willow and Tara began chalking marks on them. Xander gave his friends a hug and Angel a brief smile and disappeared for a rendezvous with Anya, and they were alone.
Giles went round the room and lit candles and switched out the lamps and then started setting the ingredients ready for the small pewter cauldron which Tara had placed carefully at the edge of the circle. In the short hallway a dark shape was pacing.
They settled down at nine o'clock, the marks chalked neatly and clearly, a small fire burning under the cauldron. Tara asked Angel to sit down in the centre of the circle.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" said Giles, before they started. "Visualise it strongly."
"Anywhere where we're together," Angel replied briefly. He closed his eyes. "Go on."
Tara, Willow and Giles took their allotted ingredients and glanced at each other. Tara nodded, and in a clear, firm voice with no stammer, no stutter, began the chant.
"Goddess of love and of light, hear our request." She cast a handful of thyme into the cauldron and at once a sweet, burnt smell drifted into the air.
"Goddess of time and of care, hear our request." Willow added dried seaweed to the thyme, the thin spiral of smoke turning a musky purple.
"Goddess of knowledge and of truth," chanted Giles, "hear our request." Dark oil was added to the herbs already in the cauldron.
"Grant this our plea," they said together, "that the body and soul of this man may be given safe passage out of this world and into that of his wishes, that he may find what he seeks and return to his place in security. Grant this our plea." Carefully Tara added the thin liquid of the elixir of phoenix feather, and scattered ebony gratings over the whole. The room was filled with the deep, heavy scent of the mixture, and almost as if drawn by a force, Angel's body fell gently to the ground where he lay, unmoving.
"Goddess of all, grant our request!" the three chanted in unison. There was a blinding flash from the cauldron, which fell over, the fire out; and when they opened their eyes again, Angel was gone.
B:
"I'm tired," Angel said softly into Buffy's ear. "Do you mind if I go home? You stay here with Willow and the others. I've got a stake and it's only a short way."
Buffy frowned and then pouted in mock-misery, though her eyes were shining with the happiness of the night.
"All right," she said, eventually. "But I'm calling as soon as I get back to the dorm and if you're not in …"
"I'll be fine," Angel reassured her, giving her a soft kiss. "And you look after yourself, my darling. There's two of you now."
She smiled, and he got up and said goodbye to the others, and putting his hands in his pockets strolled out.
Outside the Bronze the night was cool and calm. Small groups of people wandered to and fro around the club, couples with their arms around each other, friends laughing. Angel grinned to himself and rounded the corner, part of him watchful, part of him relaxed and happy.
He noticed the lonely figure before the figure noticed him, something flicking the switch of recognition in his mind. Angel stopped and watched the shadow in the corner, and then, as the other stepped hesitantly out into the yellow light from the streetlamp, his mouth dropped open and he froze.
He knew that face. It was still new to him, and there was still a little moment of surprise every time he looked in the mirror, but he knew it because it was his. And the clothes, he knew them too. Angel glanced down at his coat. The same old leather one.
For several minutes he did not move, but stood and studied his double. A rare chance, to see how you yourself move and stand, he thought – but there was something not quite right about the other Angel. A certain sag to the shoulders, a certain pallor to the face in the streetlight. A certain … motionless quality.
His mind burning with curiosity, Angel took a step towards the other, towards his double, and then froze again as an even more familiar figure melted out of the darkness and halted, a cigarette between his lips, next to the first one. Angel strained his ears to listen.
"Somethin' got your tongue, at last?" Spike said mockingly.
Angel stared at him, his mind working double-speed to work out why Spike was in Sunnydale again, what had brought his grandchilde to the Hellmouth – without Drusilla, apparently.
"No," he managed. "Have you … have you seen Buffy?"
"Thought you two were Bronzin' tonight," Spike said, puffing on his cigarette. "Forgotten? Getting tired of her already?"
"Never," said Angel, meaning it. "Never. Spike, I …"
But Spike was staring at him, as if something had just occurred to him, and he cocked his head on one side.
"You're dead," he pointed out. "You're a bleedin' … was it the Gem of bloody Amara all this time? How'd you fool 'em all? I thought you'd smashed it."
"I did smash it," Angel explained, "I … it's a …"
Spike laughed. "Slayer'll be pleased when she hears about this one, sure enough!" he said, still laughing. "And I can tell you, mate, she'll – "
He broke off, and turned around, and then looked back at Angel standing under the streetlight, and then back to the Angel who had just come up behind them both.
"Fuckin' hell!" Spike swore.
Angel, his heart beating a little faster in his chest, gazed at his double. But his double was not looking at him, instead staring at Spike.
"What the hell?" Spike said, looking frantically between the two Angels. "Some spell of Red's? Jesus Christ, Angelus. I hate this town."
"Don't call me that!" Angel told him angrily. "He's gone, gone for good."
His double had gone an even whiter shade of pale, if at all possible, and with burning dark eyes was staring at him.
"Don't call you that?" he whispered. "But that was my name."
"It was our name," Angel replied. He turned to Spike. "Spike …"
"Yeah, I know, you want me to get lost. Fine." The blond vampire started to walk away, shaking his head. "Bleedin' Hellmouth."
Angel turned back to his double who still appeared to be frozen.
"Is this what I look like?" he said. "Is this me? Are you me?"
"I think so," Angel answered. "I think so. But I can't think why you're here."
His double looked down at his hands in a gesture that was achingly familiar to Angel, though he realised he scarcely ever did it anymore. "Cordelia had a vision," he began.
They sat side by side on a bench, both unconsciously fiddling with the claddagh ring on their ring fingers, and Angel, his breath clouding in the cold air, looked again at his double.
"It was when we ran in with the Mohra," he said, shrugging. "Remember?"
"All too well."
"I went to the Oracles. But they refused to turn me back, they refused to do anything. I couldn't do a thing." He paused. "I didn't want to do a thing. I've moved here. I've got a new house, with windows. Buffy and I … we go on picnics." He smiled to himself. "And she's pregnant."
The other Angel closed his eyes. "So you're happy?"
"Yes."
"Good." The vampire tried to smile. "Good. I'm glad."
"You're not."
"No, I am, really."
"Angel …" Angel paused. "That sounds weird. Angel, you're talking to yourself, you fool. From what you said, you're me, only from another world where our lives took a slightly different path a few weeks ago. Only a few weeks."
"Weeks in the sunshine," the vampire Angel said bitterly. "Weeks with Buffy. Weeks I can't have."
"If it's any comfort, there are … things I miss."
Angel raised his eyebrows at his human other, listening to the heartbeat next to him with envy. "You have that, and you miss things about this? This wretched existence?"
"I can't fight," his double said. "I've got bruises all over from bumping into things and they won't go away. I get tired and hungry, I can't keep up with Buffy when she runs. I'd give … not anything, but something, to have back even a little of that speed and strength. And I still remember."
"Such a burden," Angel threw back, with a flash of old sarcasm. "My heart bleeds for you."
"I'm not trying to say," the human Angel said, "that I'm not overjoyed at it all. I'm just trying to explain what it feels like. That day, that first day, that was perfection."
"It was."
"Hold that memory. It'll keep you strong."
"And Buffy?" Angel's voice was soft, a murmur.
Angel smiled to himself in the darkness, and sighed a sigh of perfect bliss. "She's happy too." They fell quiet, each busy with his own thoughts. "Why was it Cordelia that had the vision?" he asked the vampire, after a while. "Why not Doyle?"
"Has that changed too?" The other Angel's face was blank and emotionless, only the eyes showing something. "Doyle … Doyle died, in my world, he sacrificed himself. Gave Cordy the visions as a parting gift, poor girl. For an while it was tough, but we have Wesley to help now."
"The Watcher?"
"Rogue demon slayer, apparently." Angel smiled briefly. "He's a help. A great help. I'd miss them both if they weren't there."
"There you go!" said Angel, nodding. "There's something you have that I don't. I … I was beginning to enjoy having Cordelia around, and Doyle too, but I hadn't got to the stage of thinking I'd miss them." He shrugged. "Actually, I do miss them, but I know I can call whenever I want to."
They stopped talking again. Somewhere near the campus a clock struck ten. Angel jumped up at the sound, glancing at his own watch as he did so.
"I have to get home. Buffy said she'd call. She'll be furious if I'm not in, and worried, and I can't have her running around looking for me, not now."
The vampire Angel looked up. "She'll be fine."
"She's pregnant! A Slayer's never been pregnant before!" Angel calmed down a little. "Sorry. I worry. I know being pregnant's not such a big deal these days, but I worry."
"She'll be fine," his double repeated, calmly. "I'm more concerned about you – about me – about us. Whatever. Look behind you."
Angel spun around and froze.
"It's the Slayer's boyfriend!" laughed the bulky male vampire at the front of the little group of three. "With that lovely heartbeat. Waiting to be stopped."
"I'm waiting for her," Angel said, gripping the stake in his pocket and wondering how much damage he could do with it. Out of the corner of his eye he could no longer see his double. "You'd be best going."
"I like them when they talk big," the girl murmured, and laughed. "More fun."
"It's not, really," Angel returned, sizing her up. In some ways, he decided, she reminded him of Drusilla. "It's more fun when they scream and kick."
The third vampire raised a pair of bristly eyebrows. "Wisdom from the ex- Scourge of Europe. It so is time someone just ate you!" His eyes widened under the eyebrows and he said, surprised, "what the?" before bursting into dust and disappearing.
Angel nodded, grateful, at his double and launched a quick surprise attack at the girl who had no time to react before she too exploded. The other Angel made short work of the remaining vampire, and the group was gone.
Angel turned to check the surrounding area, his breath coming short and fast. Beside him his other self was idly brushing dust off the leather jacket, but otherwise seemed fine.
"Thank you," Angel said, meaning it. "Perhaps it's silly thanking yourself, but thank you."
"I couldn't see you die," his double said. "I wanted to come here to find out whether Cordelia had seen clearly, whether you were human and with Buffy. I don't know what I thought it'd bring me. Part of me is furious it's you, I mean you in this dimension, who has the happiness. Part of me …" He smiled, properly this time, "part of me is glad I get what I wanted somewhere. Maybe it'll even make it easier to cope back home."
"Remember I know how tough it is," Angel replied, seriously.
"I know. I know. We know."
"We do."
Angel nodded in return and examined his human counterpart closely, even as he himself was being examined. With the initial shock gone he was able to see the differences; the brighter clothes, a more constant and broader smile, a positive outlook on life – and there, he thought wryly to himself, was the biggest difference of all. Life. Air and blood moving in one body and not in the other, simply because in one dimension the Oracles had said "yes," whereas in another they had said "no."
"Look after her," he said softly, meeting the other Angel's eyes. "She deserves happiness."
"So do we," remarked Angel. "One day maybe your chance'll come. Look after yourself. And your Cordelia. It's been … interesting."
"Pleasanter than when Willow's double came to visit," the vampire Angel agreed. "Much pleasanter. You'd better get home, Buffy will be worrying."
Angel nodded and turned around, and walked to the edge of the grass. When he glanced backwards his double was still there, and he raised a hand in salutation before hurrying off towards home.
A:
Tara, dozing in an armchair, woke with a start.
"Will!" she cried out, standing up, blankets falling to the floor. "Willow!"
Willow's nose peeped out of her blankets. "Am I late for the ceremony?" she asked, and then more of her emerged and she sat up. "Tara. What's the matter?"
"I think he's on his way back. Can't you feel it?"
Willow shook off her blankets and went to her friend, taking her hand, and she nodded. "I can feel it. Can we do anything?"
"No. We wait."
Hand in hand, they waited, feeling a tremor under their feet growing louder and stronger. And then, another blinding, roaring flash that threw both girls to their knees, Tara muttering a protection spell desperately under her breath. Giles appeared at the top of his stairs, putting on his glasses and shouting over the noise.
Silence fell. The glasses in the kitchen stopped rattling. Giles got down the last few steps and joined the girls, who were staring at the motionless figure on the floor. Nobody dared move. Tara swallowed. And finally, the figure rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, Angel!" exclaimed Willow, and ran to help him up.
Giles took off his glasses again. Willow sat Angel down and perched next to him on the arm of the sofa, Tara hovering nearby.
"Well?" the redhead asked.
Angel nodded. "I got there. The spell worked."
"And?" questioned Giles, obviously full of academic interest.
Angel told them, his words even and unemotional, with the three others hanging on to every sentence. Giles had found a pen a minute into the recital and was noting things down in a little diary.
"And did you see Buffy?" said Willow, at the end, eagerly. "I mean, his Buffy, that world's Buffy …"
"No." Angel shrugged. "I don't know what I'd have said to her. She has me. We're together there. There, she's … she's pregnant." Willow squeaked and grabbed Tara's hand, a big grin on her face. Giles stood up and started looking through books, absorbed in research. "But that's there. Here, she's in love with that … that Riley person, and I have work to do. Tara."
"Y … yes?" stammered Tara, shocked at being addressed.
"Tara, my aura. Describe that line of gold again."
"It – it's thin, but strong," the witch said. "Very very pure gold. Unbroken and unbreakable."
"Unbreakable. That's the important part. Are you sure, quite sure?"
"Positive. It's not been there very long."
Giles put down his book and looked very intently at Tara. "Tara, would this line be Angel's soul?"
Tara shrugged nervously. "I – don't – it could be. Probably." Willow squealed a noise of pure joy and threw her arms around Angel, who patted her awkwardly on the back before relaxing and returning the hug. Giles smiled, watching them, and Tara blushed a bright red and then shyly joined the pair.
B:
"More ice-cream, sweetheart?" Angel perched on the edge of the bed and displayed the carton. "Cookie dough etc. Your favourite."
Buffy smiled happily and opened her mouth for the spoon. "I think I'll be pregnant more often if I get to be fed ice-cream by you all the time." Angel absently ate some himself, and Buffy squeaked in annoyance.
"Sorry." He spooned more into her mouth.
"Forgiven," she said through cookie dough. "So, what are we going to call her?" She held out a hand for the carton.
"You seem so sure the baby's a she," Angel returned, running a thoughtful finger down Buffy's duvet-covered leg.
"Hello, I'm the Slayer?" she reminded him. "We're a female-orientated species."
"Theoretically there's a fifty-fifty chance of a boy," Angel said.
"Do you mind?" Buffy asked, putting down the spoon and turning her attention to him. Angel shrugged.
"No." He shook his head. "No, of course not. It's a baby, one I thought I'd never had. But I suppose there's a part of me still stuck in the eighteenth century, where boys were profitable, and girls … weren't. Sorry. I want to be a better father than mine was. I think we should call her Amazing."
Buffy hit him with a well-aimed pillow. "This is serious. I'd like to call her Joyce Willow Cordelia Anya Tara, but it's not very good."
"How about Kathleen?" Angel found himself suggesting, though he was not sure where the thought had come from. "Kathleen Jennifer."
Buffy smiled. "That's pretty. But why?" She pleated the duvet cover. "I mean, Jennifer I get, but not Kathleen."
"Kathleen was my sister's name." Angel looked down at his hands and then remembered he was trying not to, and looked up to meet Buffy's eyes. "My oldest sister. She was the sweetest girl, devout and pretty. She always defended me against my father and told me off in private." He blinked away a tear. "She let me into the house that first night. She was my first kill. She said she thought I was an angel."
"So the name," Buffy realised. She held out her arms to Angel and he moved to settle into them, leaning his head against her stomach. "I think it's a lovely name. And if it's a boy? Any family suggestions? I'm not calling him Hank."
"Giles?" proposed Angel. "As a first name it's fine."
"What were you called?" Buffy peered lopsidedly down at him.
"Liam."
"Liam what? You know, my kid has to have a second name too."
"What's wrong with Summers?" asked Angel, listening to the baby move gently. "That's incredible."
"Summers? No, it's – oh, the baby. I want to be traditional." Her face grew serious. "Besides, all things taken, you have a better chance of survival than me, and then it should have your second name. Plus, if you ever want a job or anything, you're kind of going to need one. Just Angel's fine for a vamp, but not for a person."
"It's ironical, really," Angel said, sitting up. "I was Liam Riley. I'm afraid you seem to have exchanged one Riley for another."
"I prefer this one. Liam Giles Riley? Giles Liam Riley? Liam Giles." She sighed happily. "There."
A:
"There you are!" said Cordelia. "There's cheques to sign."
Angel took the pen and the cheque book and signed them, and Cordelia took the book back. "That's the first time you've not complained. What happened?"
"I met me," said Angel. "In the other dimension the Oracles didn't turn me back. I'm human, and with Buffy." He smiled. "But I have good news here, too. You can throw away whatever anti-Angelus equipment you have in that drawer, Cordy."
Wesley looked up and took notice of the conversation. "What did you say?"
"I didn't, but – apparently my soul's permanent. Nothing can take it away from me again. I'm still a vampire, but I can be happy."
Cordelia smiled broadly and happily, and got up from her chair to hug her employer. "And Buffy?" she asked.
Angel opened the door to his office. "I'll wait. She's happy, she's with someone, but I can wait. I have forever." He nodded at them both and closed the door behind him.
"Cappucino?" suggested Wesley.
"Absolutely." Cordelia gathered up her coat and they went out. "I wonder if we should tell him about that demon club we found …"