Author ~ Laura
Disclaimer ~ Not mine, never will be.
Rating ~ PG-13, probably not even that!
Spoilers ~ Rumours for what I've heard will happen at the end of S6. Plus pretty much all the BtVS/AtS past history.
Summary ~ Several years in the future Buffy meets up with Angel again – and has to deal with the fact he's married to someone else.Notes ~ Don't yell at me for this pairing. I don't really support it at all, it just seemed right for the fic.
That day started out as a good one. Some days are really better than others. I feel brighter inside, a little like the dark cloud hanging above me has shifted, a little more like me, like the Buffy Summers I used to be. Then it's like I can finally start putting things behind me – mom's death, my death and resurrection, my relationship with Spike and the black shattering pain that consumed me back then. In those times I was so tired, exhausted with life and gradually running out of the will to carry on.
But I got better in the end. The dull emptiness inside me ended, like everything has to eventually. And on the morning of the day that would further change my life forever, I was feeling pretty damn good. It was late April, just before the heat in LA started to become too oppressive. The sun was shining and the skies were a kind of clear blue you rarely got to see through the many layers of pollution covering the city. I woke up full of energy, for once not staying huddled under a bundle of blankets, trying to hide from the world, but springing out of bed and going for a morning jog through the park.
To tell the absolute truth, the jogs were becoming more of a habit than a rarity. I was beginning to get into the swing of greeting the new day positively, rather than wishing for the return of night, and the solace of darkness. More often than not I would be out running by half six, stop for a Danish at this cute little bakery on the corner by my apartment then have a leisurely shower followed by breakfast and a pot of strong black coffee. It was a new routine, totally different from what my life had been before, but I was definitely starting to enjoy it. It was relaxed, straightforward, secure, and above all, normal…something my life hadn't been for the longest time.
That morning had been a Monday, so I had to get to work. I had a job in a store then, nothing too complex or time consuming (after all I was still trying to finish my college degree in night school), but it could be fun sometimes. My co-workers were all in their twenties too and we used to meet up sometimes, go for drinks, maybe out to dinner or to parties at each others homes. I didn't have many friends at the time, so it was nice to get out and feel part of a social circle occasionally. Plus, I had store discount – a whopping 50% off all the clothes I could ever need and an inside track on sale items. It wasn't the high flying career I'd always dreamed of, but it wasn't Doublemeat Palace either, and by that time I'd learnt to count my blessings where I had them.
I ate my pastry quickly, flipping through a copy of the LA Times. As always I ended up skipping the serious news and went straight to the classifieds and the funnies. I couldn't give a damn about politics – domestic or international – and everything else was generally to depressing or too trivial to read. I swept my hair up in a high ponytail, securing it with clips and applying my make-up with rapid, well-practiced sweeps, all the while thinking of the single professional male, 26, non-smoker, good sense of humour, seeking sensitive female for friendship and maybe more, whose ad had leapt out at me in the paper. It had been a long time since I'd been with a man, a choice I hadn't regretted for a long time. After the disaster with Spike I'd needed to be single-Buffy for a while, to become sorted and happy within myself, before trying to move on to being with somebody else. Now, though, I thought maybe I was finally ready. I didn't need a guy to make me whole anymore, I just wanted one. But I wasn't sure I'd quite reached the point of answering adverts in the lonely hearts column yet.
I made a quick call to Dawn, leaving a message on her answering machine. She was at college in New York, so I'd pretty much known that she would have been at class and unable to pick up, but I phoned anyway, like I with her and my dad everyday. It was a check-in thing, for their benefit more than mine, just to say hi and let them know I was okay. It felt nice that it did it, like I was still close to my family even though I couldn't always spend a lot of time with them. I left for work soon after, walking the short distance to the centre of LA, watching the crowds hurry by in cars and on foot as I did so.
The first half of my shift was uneventful. A party of teenage girls came in, between them trying on nearly half the store's clothes, laughing and joking amongst themselves as they did so. It made me think back a long way, to being fifteen at Hemery and skipping Friday afternoon study hall to shop with my friends. Then later, the occasional Saturday trips I managed to fit in at Sunnydale mall, when Willow and I would drag Xander along and parade ridiculous outfits in front of him, giggling helplessly as he made mock fashion commentary. I missed them, my best friends, but I'd left them behind. None of us were the same people anymore, least of all me.
Lunch was a quick sandwich and a friendly chat with the store's assistant manager. Dan was cute and charming, but there just wasn't any chemistry there. I guess he reminded me too much of Riley – an all round Mr Nice Guy, someone who'd love me, but not understand me. I gently declined a date for Friday night, then headed back up to my floor – women's formalwear and lingerie. For my first job of the afternoon I was just heading over to add sale tags to a whole pile of brassieres (for some reason red PVC just wasn't selling as well as it used to), when I saw him. Angel, standing outside the entrance to the changing rooms, hovering between racks of hot pink lace panties and matching push-up bras, looking like he had no idea where to put his eyes.
I guess I'd always known we'd meet again at some point. He was so much a part of my past, a huge piece of who I was and who I've become, that I couldn't imagine never seeing him again. Not to mention, we lived in the same city, he was bound to walk around the next corner into me, or attend the same theatre production, or come into the store where I worked…and shop for ladies' underwear…
I suddenly felt sick, my head spinning and my heart pounding in my chest. Angel touching another woman's underwear was a picture I suddenly found myself unable to handle. It was stupid, we'd been separated for years and I'd even come to terms with the fact he was human now. He'd told me at a bad time. I was still pretty messed up inside and angry with him for keeping so much from me, the shanshu he'd known he'd get someday, the son he'd had with Darla. I'd sent him away and he'd understood, had promised that he'd see me again sometime in the future and this time it would be right, things would finally come together between us.
I deliberately deepened my breathing, averting a panic attack using the calming exercise my therapist had taught me. This small reminder of my old life was nothing to get worked up about. I was coping fine without Angel, I didn't even think of him most days, didn't feel the ache of missing him I once did. It would be fine, I didn't even have to talk to him. I could just duck behind the display of thongs and pretend I never even saw him. Pretend he hadn't looked exactly the same as when he'd last broken my heart, despite the couple of years he must have aged by. Pretend that I couldn't remember so vividly how it felt to be kissed by those lips, to be touched by the hands he now had thrust uncomfortably in his pockets, to press my cheek against the silk of his shirt and feel the smoothness of the skin and hardness of the muscle underneath it.
A sudden hope flashed in my mind. Maybe it was me he'd come to see. One of the things I'd learnt in all my years dealing with the supernatural was that nothing was coincidental. It needn't be just chance we'd met up again, it could be the beginning of that final opportunity to be together I'd always half believed we'd have. Maybe I was being foolish to think it, but dreams aren't necessarily rational, just romantic. Either way I guess I'd just wanted to somehow resolve things between us. Everything else in my life I'd been able to bring to a conclusion – I'd fixed my relationship with my dad, had passed on my Slaying duties to Faith and cut all my ties with Sunnydale, but I'd always left things up in the air with Angel. There were still promises and forevers neither of us had taken back. We'd never said goodbye, and I was beginning to realise that in order to move on with my life without him I needed to. Until we officially decided things were over between us I would still always be harbouring that same hope that made me walk tentatively over towards him and say "hi".
"B-Buffy?" he whirled around, the look of surprise and confusion on his face so great that my heart immediately sank in my chest. Stupid Buffy, of course he wasn't here to see you, why would he do something like that?
"Angel," I returned, his name sticking in my throat. Why did I do this all the time – set myself up to be hurt by him? God, hadn't I learnt something from all those months of therapy?
"What-what are you doing here?" he stammered, wringing his hands and shifting guiltily from foot to foot.
"I work here," I forced a smile and pointed to my store uniform, trying to inject as much brightness into my tone as possible. Let him think that I don't care, that he's just another customer, just another guy I used to date. "Can I help you with anything?"
He visibly cringed, and I knew whatever revelation was coming, it was going to be bad. Angel had such a well-developed poker face that any emotion he did let slip through was pretty extreme. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to invent an excuse and scuttle away, trying to forget I ever spoke to him. But I'd learnt I couldn't hide from things like that any more, that way led only to heartbreak and eventual mental breakdown. Whatever Angel threw at me, I could deal with. I had to deal with.
"Actually, I'm waiting for someone," he told me awkwardly, and I nodded, afraid to trust my voice. "S-she's just getting changed."
"Oh," I replied a little bitterly, the truth hurting far more than just the suspicion of it. "Buying something special are we?"
"A dress," he answered quickly, and I would have savoured the novelty of him blushing as he glanced uncomfortably around at the racks of lingerie, had I not been too busy being angry at him for doing this to me and myself for still believing he wouldn't.
"It's for a charity benefit," he finished lamely.
"Right," I nodded efficiently, trying to hide behind my work persona. "Do you need any help looking? I could find you shoes, matching accessories – "
"No, no thank you," he interrupted me, suddenly moving closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body and was sure he could hear my heart pounding in my chest. "Buffy," he spoke in a soft, urgent voice. "There's something you should know. The woman I'm with – "
Suddenly, he broke off as a feminine voice sounded from inside the changing rooms. A very familiar voice.
"Ready, sweetie? Now I'm feeling pretty insecure about this one, so make sure you have your impressed face on!"
A figure slipped out from between the curtains, confirming what I'd thought I'd heard. My mouth dropped open, of all the people I could have expected Angel to turn up with…
"Willow!" I exclaimed, suppressing the urge to laugh hysterically.
"Buffy!" she returned, her face a mixture of disbelief and excitement. "Oh my God, it's so good to see you again." She moved forward, attempting to hug me, but I stepped backwards away from her, folding my arms over my chest in a defensive gesture. Willow? Angel and Willow? I didn't understand.
"Oh," she smiled crookedly. "I guess Angel told you. We should have let you know sooner, I'm sorry. But we didn't want to upset you. It's never easy to find out your ex married someone else."
"Married!" I fairly yelped the word, not caring anymore how hurt or desperate I came across. "You're married to Angel? I-I thought you were gay!" The issue was a trivial one, I knew, in comparison to all the others I could have focused on – like when, or why, or how could you do this to me? But I wasn't feeling at my most rational at the time.
Willow shrugged sheepishly in response. "Turns out I'm actually bi… Buffy, we didn't mean to hurt you," she reached towards me again, her face crumpling even further when I refused to let her even touch me. "I'm so sorry…"
"No," I shook my head. "Don't you dare apologise for this. You either – " I spun around and pointed at Angel, whose mouth was just opening to begin a speech. "Whatever you have to say I don't want to hear it." With that I turned to storm away, tears pricking at my eyes as I did so.
Willow followed me, the backless peach crepe dress she was evidently trying on rustling as she walked. The fact that she looked so good in it, with her hair grown long again and teased into sumptuous curls around the milky white skin of her shoulders, just added insult to injury. Angel stayed where he was, having more sense than to confront me when I was in such a mood.
"Buffy, wait!" Willow called after me. "Please don't react like this. Just give me a chance to explain – you don't understand."
I whirled around on her. "You're damn right I don't understand. I don't get how my best friend can marry the man I've been in love with since I was sixteen and then expect me to be okay with it!" I took a deep breath, feeling shaky inside. It had been a long time since I referred to Willow as my best friend, and even longer still since I admitted out loud I still loved Angel. All the things I'd buried deepest inside me, all the greatest hurts and betrayals, were suddenly coming back with a vengeance.
"I-I didn't know you still felt so strongly about Angel," Willow stuttered. "Otherwise I wouldn't have…" Tears began to well in her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks. Great, not only did she stab me in the back but she had the cheek to act like she was the victim in all of this. My heart immediately hardened towards her, so what if she got upset, after all she was the one who could go home and be comforted by her husband afterwards.
"Tell it to someone who cares," I snapped back at her.
"Buffy," Willow sounded utterly distraught as she grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. "Please talk to me. I don't want to leave things like this between us. I k-know we haven't been close for a long time – "
"There's a reason for that, remember?" I said coldly, lowering my voice and leaning towards her. "You know, that little killing spree you went on." I pulled my hand harshly away from hers, glad for the Slayer strength I still had left.
Willow shook her head desperately, having trouble forming words through her sobs. "I was ill," she choked out. "I'm s-sorry. Tara… I couldn't…I couldn't control what I was doing…"
"Just leave," I ignored the guilt beginning to rise up inside me that I had never been able to forgive my best friend for the things she did while confused and mourning for her dead lover. "I don't want to see you anymore. Oh and," I bitchily paused to offer a parting shot that I have regretted ever since. "I'd consider looking for a new dress to wear to your party – that one looks terrible on you."
With that I turned and nearly ran into the private staff room where I collapsed into the corner, dragged my knees up to my chest and dropped my head into my hands, staying there for the next half hour struggling not to cry. When I finally calmed down and walked back onto the shop floor, Willow and Angel had gone and the place seemed eerily silent. Suddenly it felt wrong to be there, like it wasn't who I was or where I was meant to be. I muddled through the rest of the day in a daze, leaving a trail of mistakes and upset customers behind me, until finally at four o'clock my supervisor sent me home.
Halfway through the walk, the tears began to come and by the time I climbed the stairs to by apartment and struggled to fit the key in the lock through my blurred vision, I was weeping uncontrollably. I couldn't remember crying that much since shortly after Tara died and they took Dawn away from my care, sending her to live with Dad. Then, the tears had lasted all night until I fell asleep with exhaustion, and all the following day, until Dad came around to collect the rest of Dawn's stuff. He saw the state I was in and made me come to LA with him and Dawn. At the time I hated him for it, but now I realise he probably saved my life. With Dawn and Mom, Tara and Giles all gone, Willow shattered into a million pieces after I only just managed to stop her destroying the whole town with her out of control magic, Xander in shell-shock, and chipless Spike deciding to relearn evil in style, I don't think I could have coped much longer. I needed someone to break the cycle of pain and loss, to snap me out of my depression and take me away from the destructive influence of Sunnydale. Dad did all that and provided me with therapy and a brand new life too. He did everything he could to make me better, and eventually I came to forgive him for not being there for me and Dawn in the past.
In the end it turned out that part was easy – so was creating a new identity for myself. A new job, a new place to live, new people to hang out with. What was the hard part was escaping the memories of Sunnydale and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the very same memories that came back to haunt me that afternoon in the department store.
* * * * *
The next day I took off work, not feeling quite up to going in. I missed my morning run, then spent the day doing totally trivial things. I baked cookies, then caught a bus to the coast and walked along the beachfront savouring the sea breeze. I thought about Angel and Willow, mainly wondering whether or not it would last. The jealous angry part of me hoped it wouldn't, but the longer I sat listening to the sound of the waves breaking and feeling the sun on my arms and the grit of sand between my toes, the more I hoped it would. Two of the people I loved the most deserved to find happiness with one another, even if it meant I would have to find my happiness elsewhere.
I thought back to Riley and his wife, and wondered whether things had worked out between them. First love may last forever, but it also grows up, learns to accept that some things just aren't meant to be. Angel and I were clearly one of those things, but that didn't mean I would ever stop caring about him. Time had proven very well that I never could do that. But I could start accepting him and Willow together, maybe not in a day or even a month, but invite me to their silver wedding anniversary, and I might well have gone. I wouldn't have bought them a gift, but I would have gone.
* * * * *
Wednesday I was back at work, the familiarity of my routine seeming surreal after its abrupt interruption two days earlier. But I slipped back into it easily enough, packing garments and serving customers with a smile, until at around midday my stomach suddenly went hollow and my hands shaky, and I turned around to see Angel striding casually out of the elevator. Same leather coat as always, same serious expression and intense eyes, like nothing had changed since we first met. Except this was a store, not a dark alley behind the Bronze and he was married to my former best friend not dating me, and everything had changed.
"I don't want to talk to you," I greeted him before he could even open his mouth.
"I know," he nodded, not missing a beat. "But maybe you should anyway."
I met his eyes, suddenly regretting it as the darkness of his gaze pored into me, almost as if he could see straight through all the defences I'd built around myself and into my heart. "Why?" I looked away uncomfortably.
"Because there's some things you need to know."
"Like what? The colour of the bridesmaids' dresses? How you and Willow stumbled over one another in the street then one thing led to another? Or maybe you suddenly woke up one morning and realised you'd been in love with the wrong girl all these years!"
I moved to fiddle with something under the counter, trying hard not to cry. I'd shed too many tears over this man already, damn it, I was not going to waste any more.
"You know that's not it, Buffy," he said urgently, grabbing my wrist. The contact was electric, his fingers hovering over my pulse point, his breath hot on my face. I felt my breathing become rough and shallow, my heart contract in my chest, and all I wanted to do in that moment was reach up and kiss him. Press my body up against his, sweep my tongue into his mouth, tangle my hands in his hair, get caught up in the passion of the moment.
I pulled away. I don't mess around with other people's husbands.
"Come and have lunch with me," he asked more calmly, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair and sighing deeply. "Just hear what I have to say, then if that's what you still want, I promise to leave you alone."
I looked briefly up at him, then down at my hands, studying them with the kind of intent concentration I only ever employ when my mind is elsewhere. Suddenly, an association clicked inside my head, and I glanced down at Angel's hands, checking for a wedding band. There was none.
"I'm just taking my break," I called out to my supervisor who was watching me strangely. "I'll be back in about an hour." She nodded and I turned back to Angel, fixing him with a sharp look. "This better be good."
He smiled tersely and led the way out of the store. I never could ever refuse him anything he wanted.
* * * * *
We got sandwiches and went to sit on a bench near the park where I go running to eat them. As I watched Angel tucking into his deep filled chicken salad, every so often pausing to wipe mayonnaise from around his mouth with a napkin as he did so, I almost felt like laughing.
"What?" he asked through a mouthful of food when he saw me looking at him strangely.
"You," I nodded towards the half-eaten sandwich in his hand and the plastic cup of cola on the seat beside him. "Sitting in the sun, eating, drinking non-bodily fluids. All things I never expected to see."
He flashed me a crooked grin, something like regret in his expression. "Well, things change."
I smiled before taking a bite of my pastrami on rye. "They certainly do."
Angel wadded up the rest of his lunch, tossing the remains into a wastebasket nearby. "I suppose you want to know why I came to talk to you."
I shrugged. "That depends on what it is you have to say."
He sighed again, shifting in his seat and obviously not knowing where to start. "It's about Willow…"
I smiled bitterly, the food suddenly becoming dry and tasteless in my mouth. I pushed the rest away. "I thought it might be."
"She-she…" Angel's body language suddenly became stiff and tense, his expression masked. "She's dying."
"What!" I choked on my drink, some part of my mind registering that I'd never made soda come out of my nose before and now was not a good time to start. "If this is some kind of joke, Angel, then it's not a very funny one."
He shook his head. "It's not a joke, she has ovarian cancer with metastases on the liver and pancreas. They did a hysterectomy but the secondary tumours are inoperable. She's having radiotherapy and chemotherapy, but the treatments are palliative more than anything else."
I stared at him in confusion. "I don't understand. What does that mean?"
"It means she's going to die, Buffy," he said softly, reaching out to touch my hand. "She has maybe five, six months left. The cancer's eating her up inside. The doctors can help her with the pain and the symptoms, but they can't do anything to cure it."
"I'm so sorry," I told him, my head spinning. Willow dying. Willow in horrible pain and suffering. Willow just not being there any longer. I couldn't imagine it. But it was happening; it was real. And, oh God, I remembered watching stupid Indian movies with her and Xander, gossiping about boys when we were supposed to be studying, comforting each other through countless broken hearts. She couldn't be dying, could she?
"Don't be," Angel told me firmly, squeezing my hand, which I suddenly realised was grasping his tightly. "Come and see her in the hospital. She starts a new round of chemo tomorrow. She wants to fix things with you, Buffy. Wants to be friends again before it's too late."
I shook my head, still in shock. "I'm not sure…if I can. I…" I turned to look at him, things suddenly knitting together in my mind. "Is this why? Is this why you married her?"
"Buffy…" he replied uncomfortably, refusing to look at me.
"Angel," I pressed, knowing it was cruel and insensitive to ask the question, but desperate to find out anyway.
"She needs someone to be there for her," he mumbled, extracting his hand from mine.
"So you married her because she was sick?" the question came out harsher than I had intended it to, mainly because I felt guilty over how pleased I was to be asking it. Willow was dying and I was glad that her husband was admitting he didn't marry her for love. When I should have been thinking of my best friend I was thinking only of myself.
"I married Willow because I care about her and because it was what she wanted," Angel replied sharply. "She's in Room 668 of LA Memorial – the oncology ward – if you wanted to come visit at all. We'll be there for at least the next three days. Otherwise, I'll see you around."
He got up and walked away, not even bothering to look back. I stayed sitting on the bench, thinking what a horrible person I was and feeling suddenly very alone.
To be continued…arc_en_cieluk@hotmail.com