Part 13: Midnight Phone Calls
#
"So what do you think?"
Buffy cradled the phone to her head as she sat cross-legged on her dorm room bed. Willow was still at the library, studying late as she so often did these days. All to distract herself from the pain of losing Oz. Buffy was convinced the redhead was not getting enough sleep, but she could understand it. The first month or two after Angel had left her she had been afraid to sleep, too.
"It's hard to say," Angel's voice rang out from the phone. "It sounds like a great opportunity, but ..."
"Yeah, but ...," she agreed. They had both seen too much to believe in good things that came without some kind of catch.
"I will try and call in a few old favors," Angel said after a moment of silence. "Maybe I can find out a little bit more about this government operation. Has Willow found anything on her computer?"
"She managed to get a look at Riley's files here on campus. Born in Iowa, farm boy through and through. Psychology major. No trace of any military career, nor that he is working for any kind of government agency. Willow even called his parents in Iowa, just to check whether they actually exist. They do; she says they're pretty nice people and love to talk about their son."
"Most of what is in his file is probably accurate. The best lies are those that stick closest to the truth."
She nodded, trying to stifle the longing of having him here with her, sitting on the bed, instead of a hundred miles away at the other end of a phone line.
"What does Giles think about the whole thing?" Angel asked.
"Well, once he got over being flustered he tried to approach things rationally, which pretty much led to stuttering and repeated questions whether or not I thought I was doing the right thing trusting Riley. If I had a good answer to that I would have a lot fewer problems."
There was a pause at the other end and Buffy wondered whether Angel might feel a little bit jealous about her relationship with Riley, if one could call it that. She had considered him a friend, though she was aware that he wanted more than that from her. Now she simply was not sure what to think about him, though some part of her was quite smug with pride that they were asking her to join their team and show them how it was done.
If only she could be sure that their offer was genuine.
"I told him I would not be doing this without him," Buffy added. "If I get to be secret agent Buffy than he has to be secret agent Giles."
"You did the right thing there," Angel assured her. "And if their offer is indeed genuine than they should be happy to get someone with such a deep knowledge of the demonic as Giles."
"Plus it might get him off his slacker couch once in a while. He really needs a job."
They both laughed. Angel's laugh was a beautiful thing, Buffy thought, even more precious because she heard it all too seldom. God, how she missed his presence.
"How goes the training?" she asked, wanting to change the topic for a bit.
Angel had told her that he was getting martial arts training in Los Angeles. At first she had been rather upset about that, both because it meant he was going to take longer to get back to Sunnydale and because he was going to a stranger in order to spar instead of doing it with her.
His arguments had been solid, though. He needed to learn to fight without super strength and, seeing that she was the Slayer and used to him being as strong as she was, she had to agree that she was probably the wrong person to help him with that. The fact that he obviously still intended to fight by her side made her uneasy, but she could not honestly fault him for it. If their situations were reversed she would not be able to simply stay home and worry, either.
"It goes slow, I fear," he told her honestly. "I'm still not used to my reduced speed and strength. Plus I've discovered that I've gotten into the habit of pulling my punches when fighting against a human."
Buffy nodded, understanding. When one had enough strength to punch a hole into a brick wall one had to hold back when hitting a human, otherwise a single blow could well be fatal. When that strength was suddenly gone, though, that same habit could turn a knockout blow into a love tap that would produce nothing but laughs.
"Any idea when you will be home?" she finally asked, completing the ritual. She asked him that question every time. He always evaded her, said something about he would come when he had wrapped things up in LA, when he completed his training, when he felt confident that Cordelia and Doyle would be okay without him.
"I can't say," he admitted. "If you don't mind, though, I would like to come over for the weekend."
"Really?" Buffy immediately perked up, not quite believing what she had just heard. "The whole weekend?"
"I miss you, too, Buffy," he said softly.
Happiness closed down her throat, made her unable to utter anything in reply. A few times these last two weeks she had woken up in the morning and wondered whether it might all have been a dream. Angel turning human, the two days they had spent together in LA, maybe even their nightly phone calls.
Now, though, he would coming to Sunnydale. Only for a few days, granted, but he would be here. In the flesh.
Where her friends would see him.
They chatted on for a while, but Buffy was now preoccupied with a mixed feeling of anticipation and dread. Should she tell her friends now, before he came? Should she just walk up to them with Angel holding her hand in broad daylight?
The combination of still hearing Angel's voice through the phone and her own racing thoughts proved potent enough to keep her from noticing the shiver that went down her spine, the hairs that stood up straight on her neck.
She never noticed the dark shape that was watching her through the window of her dorm room.
#
Jackson King was confused.
It was not really that strange a state for him as of late. His life had changed completely that day in South America when he had been chosen as the Huntsman. He felt different, he thought different, sometimes he even wondered whether he was still the same person at all. Maybe Jackson King had died that day and he was just walking around in his body, carrying his memories.
Most of the time, though, his thoughts were occupied by other things.
For several days now he had followed the girl around the town, his eyes watching every move she made, his senses drinking in her presence. It was her, there was no doubt in his mind about that. She was the Slayer and her name, as he had learned from overhearing a conversation, was Buffy.
She was the Slayer and he had come here to find here, to be with her, to satisfy some indefinable urge that only her presence could quell. Yet somehow it had not worked out quite the way he had imagined it to.
It was not so much something he knew, but rather something he felt he should know. He had read that, once a new girl was chosen as the Slayer, she simply knew things. How to handle a stake, how to find a vampire's heart, how to fight any number of demonic creatures without ever having learned how to do it. Maybe this was something similar? If it was, though, it was off.
Somewhere deep inside his mind he had played out their meeting a hundred times already, certain that it would go down exactly this way. He would approach her, find her, and she would feel his presence. They would be drawn together, unable to resist each other, and then ... well, he had never been too clear on what would happen then, but he was certain that events would play out the way they were supposed to. All this was destined, that much he knew. Or thought he knew.
Only things had not gone down that way. He had approached her, watched her from the shadows. She felt his presence, it was evident in the way she tensed whenever he got close. Sometimes her eyes would scurry the darkness for him, try to find him. They never did, though, and after some time she always shrugged and went about her business. And he, well, he never showed himself to her, though he could not really say why.
Something was off about her, about him, about what should have happened between them the moment he first saw her. It was as if he was waiting for something, some sort of circuit that should close between them, a click that would make everything clear as day. Only it had not happened and he did not know why. It was certainly not made easier by the fact that he had absolutely no clue as to what should be happening.
Unfortunately for him he did not know what to do now, so he decided to just keep up what was quickly becoming his routine. There was not really any alternative to it. Even though things had not happened they way they should have he knew that leaving Sunnydale was not an option for him. The very thought of leaving the Slayer behind and going elsewhere was enough to cause him almost physical pain.
He would stay. He would keep following her. And maybe ... maybe whatever it was that kept them apart would simply go away.
It just had to.
TO BE CONTINUED
#
"So what do you think?"
Buffy cradled the phone to her head as she sat cross-legged on her dorm room bed. Willow was still at the library, studying late as she so often did these days. All to distract herself from the pain of losing Oz. Buffy was convinced the redhead was not getting enough sleep, but she could understand it. The first month or two after Angel had left her she had been afraid to sleep, too.
"It's hard to say," Angel's voice rang out from the phone. "It sounds like a great opportunity, but ..."
"Yeah, but ...," she agreed. They had both seen too much to believe in good things that came without some kind of catch.
"I will try and call in a few old favors," Angel said after a moment of silence. "Maybe I can find out a little bit more about this government operation. Has Willow found anything on her computer?"
"She managed to get a look at Riley's files here on campus. Born in Iowa, farm boy through and through. Psychology major. No trace of any military career, nor that he is working for any kind of government agency. Willow even called his parents in Iowa, just to check whether they actually exist. They do; she says they're pretty nice people and love to talk about their son."
"Most of what is in his file is probably accurate. The best lies are those that stick closest to the truth."
She nodded, trying to stifle the longing of having him here with her, sitting on the bed, instead of a hundred miles away at the other end of a phone line.
"What does Giles think about the whole thing?" Angel asked.
"Well, once he got over being flustered he tried to approach things rationally, which pretty much led to stuttering and repeated questions whether or not I thought I was doing the right thing trusting Riley. If I had a good answer to that I would have a lot fewer problems."
There was a pause at the other end and Buffy wondered whether Angel might feel a little bit jealous about her relationship with Riley, if one could call it that. She had considered him a friend, though she was aware that he wanted more than that from her. Now she simply was not sure what to think about him, though some part of her was quite smug with pride that they were asking her to join their team and show them how it was done.
If only she could be sure that their offer was genuine.
"I told him I would not be doing this without him," Buffy added. "If I get to be secret agent Buffy than he has to be secret agent Giles."
"You did the right thing there," Angel assured her. "And if their offer is indeed genuine than they should be happy to get someone with such a deep knowledge of the demonic as Giles."
"Plus it might get him off his slacker couch once in a while. He really needs a job."
They both laughed. Angel's laugh was a beautiful thing, Buffy thought, even more precious because she heard it all too seldom. God, how she missed his presence.
"How goes the training?" she asked, wanting to change the topic for a bit.
Angel had told her that he was getting martial arts training in Los Angeles. At first she had been rather upset about that, both because it meant he was going to take longer to get back to Sunnydale and because he was going to a stranger in order to spar instead of doing it with her.
His arguments had been solid, though. He needed to learn to fight without super strength and, seeing that she was the Slayer and used to him being as strong as she was, she had to agree that she was probably the wrong person to help him with that. The fact that he obviously still intended to fight by her side made her uneasy, but she could not honestly fault him for it. If their situations were reversed she would not be able to simply stay home and worry, either.
"It goes slow, I fear," he told her honestly. "I'm still not used to my reduced speed and strength. Plus I've discovered that I've gotten into the habit of pulling my punches when fighting against a human."
Buffy nodded, understanding. When one had enough strength to punch a hole into a brick wall one had to hold back when hitting a human, otherwise a single blow could well be fatal. When that strength was suddenly gone, though, that same habit could turn a knockout blow into a love tap that would produce nothing but laughs.
"Any idea when you will be home?" she finally asked, completing the ritual. She asked him that question every time. He always evaded her, said something about he would come when he had wrapped things up in LA, when he completed his training, when he felt confident that Cordelia and Doyle would be okay without him.
"I can't say," he admitted. "If you don't mind, though, I would like to come over for the weekend."
"Really?" Buffy immediately perked up, not quite believing what she had just heard. "The whole weekend?"
"I miss you, too, Buffy," he said softly.
Happiness closed down her throat, made her unable to utter anything in reply. A few times these last two weeks she had woken up in the morning and wondered whether it might all have been a dream. Angel turning human, the two days they had spent together in LA, maybe even their nightly phone calls.
Now, though, he would coming to Sunnydale. Only for a few days, granted, but he would be here. In the flesh.
Where her friends would see him.
They chatted on for a while, but Buffy was now preoccupied with a mixed feeling of anticipation and dread. Should she tell her friends now, before he came? Should she just walk up to them with Angel holding her hand in broad daylight?
The combination of still hearing Angel's voice through the phone and her own racing thoughts proved potent enough to keep her from noticing the shiver that went down her spine, the hairs that stood up straight on her neck.
She never noticed the dark shape that was watching her through the window of her dorm room.
#
Jackson King was confused.
It was not really that strange a state for him as of late. His life had changed completely that day in South America when he had been chosen as the Huntsman. He felt different, he thought different, sometimes he even wondered whether he was still the same person at all. Maybe Jackson King had died that day and he was just walking around in his body, carrying his memories.
Most of the time, though, his thoughts were occupied by other things.
For several days now he had followed the girl around the town, his eyes watching every move she made, his senses drinking in her presence. It was her, there was no doubt in his mind about that. She was the Slayer and her name, as he had learned from overhearing a conversation, was Buffy.
She was the Slayer and he had come here to find here, to be with her, to satisfy some indefinable urge that only her presence could quell. Yet somehow it had not worked out quite the way he had imagined it to.
It was not so much something he knew, but rather something he felt he should know. He had read that, once a new girl was chosen as the Slayer, she simply knew things. How to handle a stake, how to find a vampire's heart, how to fight any number of demonic creatures without ever having learned how to do it. Maybe this was something similar? If it was, though, it was off.
Somewhere deep inside his mind he had played out their meeting a hundred times already, certain that it would go down exactly this way. He would approach her, find her, and she would feel his presence. They would be drawn together, unable to resist each other, and then ... well, he had never been too clear on what would happen then, but he was certain that events would play out the way they were supposed to. All this was destined, that much he knew. Or thought he knew.
Only things had not gone down that way. He had approached her, watched her from the shadows. She felt his presence, it was evident in the way she tensed whenever he got close. Sometimes her eyes would scurry the darkness for him, try to find him. They never did, though, and after some time she always shrugged and went about her business. And he, well, he never showed himself to her, though he could not really say why.
Something was off about her, about him, about what should have happened between them the moment he first saw her. It was as if he was waiting for something, some sort of circuit that should close between them, a click that would make everything clear as day. Only it had not happened and he did not know why. It was certainly not made easier by the fact that he had absolutely no clue as to what should be happening.
Unfortunately for him he did not know what to do now, so he decided to just keep up what was quickly becoming his routine. There was not really any alternative to it. Even though things had not happened they way they should have he knew that leaving Sunnydale was not an option for him. The very thought of leaving the Slayer behind and going elsewhere was enough to cause him almost physical pain.
He would stay. He would keep following her. And maybe ... maybe whatever it was that kept them apart would simply go away.
It just had to.
TO BE CONTINUED