Wesley could not believe his eyes. She stood in the great room with a hand on her hip and her head cocked to one side. "Well, will I do or not? Because, frankly Wesley, I've got way better things to do," she said and flashed him a weak smile.
"Ub… um… unh… Buffy! You're… where… how… a-a-alive!" he finally spluttered. He squinted at her. "You are alive, yes?" Wesley removed the stake from under his blanket. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yes, Wesley, I'm alive. Wanna check my pulse?"
She was suddenly doused in water. "What the…" She spun to face her attacker. Oz held an empty bottle of holy water. "No thanks, Buff," Oz replied. "We're good. Hi."
She turned back to Wesley. He was still staring at her in shock. His Slayer was exhausted, her clothes were torn, and she was covered in bruises and blood. She had several nasty gashes on her arms and legs. Even at this distance, he could see the dried blood behind her ear and her slightly unfocused eyes. She looked defeated and scared and lonely. "How are you?" he asked gently.
"Well, I can string words together and make whole sentences. Some are even grammatically correct. The question is how are you?" He immediately broke eye contact. "Wesley?" This time the question was full of concern and empty of sarcasm. Buffy moved closer to him and really looked at her last living ex-Watcher. He was seated awkwardly on the couch. She had noticed his jerky movements earlier, but dismissed them as unimportant. Now she realized what was wrong: Wesley was paralyzed. She peered at his face. His eyes were sunken, and he was pale. "Wesley?" she asked again. "What happened to you?"
By the time they were done talking, they had finished two pots of tea. Buffy had sat and listened in stunned silence as Oz told her about Willow and what he guessed had happened to Xander and Cordelia. In return, she described what she had seen in the school and at The Bronze. She told them about the chaos she had encountered as she made her way to the mansion. Hundreds of demons were rampaging, looting, and murdering the residents of Sunnydale. The few humans she had seen were dazed and unresponsive; she had been powerless to help anyone except herself. She had seen a family eaten alive while she hid in a destroyed car. After, the killers had danced on the bones and boasted about their "victory".
Finally, she told them about Giles. Wesley's only comment upon hearing that his colleague was dead was, "I see." Buffy almost said something shameful, but at the last second she saw Wesley's eyes. She put her hand in his and squeezed it. They sat like that for a while, silently staring into the fire.
Oz but no Willow. No Xander, no Cordelia, no Giles. She hadn't dared to ask about Angel; no one had mentioned his name. And then Oz casually asked, "Are you hungry? Cuz Angel made sure to get stuff you'd eat." Angel's here? He survived the Ascension? She wanted to cry with relief. Angel's okay and he's here. Well, not here right now. I'd know if he was here. Why isn't he here? "Where's Angel?" she asked Wesley. "Why didn't he stay?" Did he leave like he said? Her heart began to break again.
"Ah, well, there have been some, uh, recent developments," said Wesley in his best Watcher voice and nearly withered from the glare Buffy sent him. He was hiding something; she knew because he was nervous. She tapped her foot. "Spit it out, Wesley. Now." Oz recognized the look and the toe tapping as the signs of an about to be seriously pissed-off Slayer. "This is where I came in the first time," he said and hugged Buffy . "Angel's one of the good guys. It'll be fine," he offered as he walked out of the room.
What will be fine? She fixed Wesley with her patented death glare. "I'm. Still. Waiting." Wesley took several deep breaths. Worst-case scenario: the Slayer would kill him slowly. Best-case scenario: the Slayer would kill him quickly. Either way, she was not going to be happy with what he was about to say. "Where. Is. Angel?" she repeated slowly.
"Yes, well, you see," began Wesley, "the Hellmouth is opening. We know it's connected to the Mayor's Ascension, but we don't know why. We need to prevent this event or the world that we know will end. The plan is to seal the Hellmouth. We are researching spells, to find and perhaps adapt one for our purpose." He droned on trying to drown her question with facts and suppositions. It's not that I don't want her to know where Angel is, he reasoned to himself, I just don't know if telling her why he's out there is useful. He knew her relationship with Angel had ended badly. He also knew that Angel was supposed to leave Sunnydale after the Ascension. What he didn't know was if the vampire was still planning to go. If Wesley told Buffy the truth, would he be setting her up for further pain? Giles' death had nearly undone her. The world needed a Slayer who was in control, not one wracked by grief. He continued, "So, Angel has gone to… that is, he's trying to find--"
Buffy interrupted him. "Believe it or not, Wesley, I can make your life even more miserable," she reminded him.
The ex-Watcher gave up and looked directly at her for the first time since Oz's departure. "Angel is searching for you."
Buffy entered the bathroom and prayed to the shower gods for hot and cold running water. Her mind had finally shut down. She knew she was having a delayed reaction to the day's events. Wesley had suggested a warm bath and some tea would make her feel better. For once, she had not argued with him.
Angel is searching for me. She couldn't wrap her brain around this thought. She knew it meant something significant, but she was afraid to know what that something was. She placed her hand under the showerhead and watched the spray dissipate into the air. Angel is searching for me. Angel is searching. For me.
Angel smelled her unique scent as soon as he entered the mansion's courtyard. He burst into the great room and startled a sleeping Wesley. "Where is she?" the vampire growled and swept the room for any sign of Buffy.
Wesley didn't answer him immediately. This lack of response was Angel's cue to aggressively advance on the man. Wesley pressed himself further into his chair and put his hands in front of him to ward off the impending attack.
"Answer me, Wesley, where is she?" Angel did not have time to play games. He grabbed the ex-Watcher's shirt and pulled him off the couch. Wesley's feet dangled in the air. Angel leaned closer, switched to his game face, and growled low in his chest. Wesley stared him down for the second time that night. "Put me down," he said authoritatively. Angel lowered him to the chair and moved to the fireplace. It was difficult to say who was more surprised: Angel because he had obeyed Wesley or Wesley because Angel had actually listened to him.
The ex-Watcher and the vampire glared at each other until Angel finally choked out, "Sorry." Wesley gazed at the demon in front of him and made a decision. "I think she has a concussion, and she needs stitches for several injuries. She's disoriented and exhausted, but she's a Slayer so she'll recover shortly. She found Giles' body. Oz and I told her about the others. I also told her about the Hellmouth opening. I think I can safely say that Buffy is in shock. I suggested she take a bath and … "
Angel just stared at Wesley. What had happened to the prissy and self-centered man he'd been avoiding all these months? Normally, Wesley would have withheld any information about the Slayer from the vampire. Angel had seen plenty of "deathbed conversions" when he had been the Scourge of Europe. Was that the explanation? Does it matter? I need to see Buffy now. With that thought, Angel began to move out of the great room.
Wesley knew where he was going. "Angel, wait, you need to know—" The vampire was no longer listening. He could sense her in the mansion, and he needed to see her, touch her, taste her. "Angel, wait," Wesley tried to get his attention. "Your curse--," he started to say.
"I know all about my curse," spat Angel. He was not going to have this conversation with Wesley of all people.
"Your curse--," began Wesley again. Angel whirled around and stalked towards the ex-Watcher. "My curse is not up for discussion."
"ANGELUS! STOP AND LISTEN TO ME!" Angel halted and waited. Wesley shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Then he focused on the hulking vampire in front of him. What he was about to say could irrevocably change everyone's future, and he had no inkling if it would be for the better or worse. "When you were poisoned earlier, I contacted the Council. They were not amenable to helping you since they are not in the business of saving vampires." Wesley chose to ignore Angel's smirk. "They did say, however, that 'Angelus was no longer a threat`. I thought at the time that meant you would not recover. But I've been thinking about it, and now I think…" He didn't finish the thought.
Angel knelt in front of the fire. "You think the curse is no longer an issue," Angel finished the sentence. He added another log and stirred the embers. Soon the fire was crackling and roaring. "Did you tell Buffy?" he asked at last. "I thought, perhaps, you should tell her." Wesley answered.
"What if you're wrong?" Buffy had already lost so much today, if she had to kill Angelus too, she would not live beyond his death. But, what if Wesley was right? After everything that had happened, what did this mean for him and Buffy?
Above his head, hot and cold water moved through the pipes and a voice hummed an old Irish song. Angel turned his back to the fire. Wesley watched as fear, doubt, guilt, and finally love passed over the vampire's human face. Angel stood and handed Wesley the blanket that had fallen to the floor and out of the ex-Watcher's reach. Then, silently, he walked out of the great room, climbed the stairs, and stood before the bathroom door.