Chapter Two

Buffy stared at the rain splattering against Xander's windshield. Somewhere between leaving the Sanctuary and arriving in Sunnydale, it had begun to rain. Buffy had no idea when.

It had not just been seeing Willow. Buffy just had a feeling, that there was something she should know about. It was as if she had forgotten to do something, but couldn't think what. Her brain was in serious fuzzy mode - and the strangest thing was, she could feel *him*. She shook her head briskly. It wasn't possible and she knew it. *He* was in LA; *he* was far out of her reach. And as far as she was concerned, *he* didn't exist anymore.

Not at least since she had realised he had probably moved on. After all, no one waits forever.

Buffy glanced over at Xander. He was barely aware of her presence, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Almost home now." It was a statement to himself, flat and empty.

Buffy felt herself shiver. She hardly knew the man sitting beside her anymore. Still she had lost too much to give up on Xander too, a man she owed so much to. She shifted towards him, swivelling in her seat as she faced him. "Xan," she began softly.

Barely a grunt came in reply.

"She seemed better today. You know, much more like the old Will." She paused, waiting for Xander to react. Nothing.

Buffy took a deep breath, then stated emphatically, "I think they're reaching her, Xander. I think she's going to make it."

Still Xander stared ahead, not a flicker of emotion on his face. Reaching for Xander's hand, Buffy began to plead, "Xan, I know this is -".

He cut her off, his chill words freezing Buffy's heart. "You know nothing. I know nothing. Willow's gone."

Buffy shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. "You're her oldest friend, Xander. You saved her. Don't give up on her now."

Abruptly Xander slammed on the brakes, killed the engine and took the keys from the ignition. Startled, Buffy gaped at him as he opened the door, got out of the car and walked out into the rain.

"Where are you going?" Buffy yelled after him. All she received was a shrug in return. Buffy intuitively knew it was a bad idea to follow him. Not knowing what else to do, she stepped out into the night air, feeling the rain pelt against her skin. Hugging her arms around her body, she began to walk towards home. She had a long walk ahead of her.

With a slight chill, she realised she had just turned onto Crawford Street, and was close to Angel's old mansion. She could feel the tingling in her fingers and toes increase, her senses becoming more keen. She knew she was looking for something specific, something she knew was there. Being sensible, "big sister" Buffy, she dismissed it, trying to concentrate on reaching home. Striding along the pavement, the rain sleeking back her hair, Buffy mentally ran through her to-do list - pick up groceries, ring Janice's mom about the sleepover, *mansion*, kill vamps and demons, mansion-mansion-mansion! And the closer she was to the mansion, the stronger the feeling she had to go in there became. Her slayer sense was in overdrive, her body tensed for action. Pushing herself against the rain, Buffy sprinted, her legs heading automatically towards the abandoned mansion.

**********************

Anya smoothed back her layered blonde hair from her face, unsure of what to say to her inconsolable boyfriend. It had been a difficult year, what with their aborted wedding ceremony, her brief stint as a vengeance demon and well - Willow. Knowing how that name drained all the colour from Xander's face, Anya took great pains to avoid it. Still it was not easy spending most of her time with Xander walking on egg shells, pretending the whole summer of last year had never happened. Yes, they were back together, but there were a lot of wounds to be healed, a lot of words to be said. Anya knew however that now was not the time.

Xander sat before her, facing the window, his face a mess of emotions. "I just left her there, An."

Anya sighed, preparing to explain the seemingly obvious, concrete facts - at least to Anya's way of thinking - to Xander. "I'm sure Buffy will be okay. She's the slayer - rain is less likely to harm her than anyone." Watching Xander expectantly for signs of emotional improvement, Anya felt her heart sink as her words made no impact. In fact, he was now pacing up and down, his words becoming more and more jumbled.

"Oh, I'm a bad, bad man," he raved. "I've just left my friend - no correct that, the bestest, most loyal friend I could ever have - to FREEZE!" The last part came out with such force, Anya started in shock.

Tentatively placing a hand on Xander's shoulder, Anya tried to soothe her boyfriend. "Xander, it's okay. Really."

Xander shook her off, banging both hands against the wall. "No, it is not. It is so not okay. I know that, you know that, so why don't we all stop the hell pretending?" Xander turned to face Anya, his dark eyes fierce and full of held-in hurt. Countering him, Anya looked him dead in the eye, her tone even, taking no prisoners.

"No one's pretending, Xander - except maybe you." Xander stared at her, his mouth gaping open in utter astonishment.

Anya took a breath, determined to have her say. "I'm sick of trying to make this work, when you won't even admit what's wrong. I love you so much, but you won't talk, you won't let me in. I just don't know what to say to you anymore." With that, all the fight seemed to drain from Anya, and she flopped down into a chair, her head in her hands.

Xander continued to stare at her, nervously twiddling his hands. "I didn't know you felt that way."

For a second, Anya did not answer, then softly she uttered, "That's because you never asked."

Xander moved towards his girlfriend, dropping to a crouch. Gently he took her hands in his. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "How can I make things right?"

Tiredly Anya glanced down at him, a wry smile crossing her lips. "Stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault."

The flash of pain across Xander's face said it all. As he laid his head in Anya's lap, she gently threaded her fingers through his thick dark hair. She knew by the even deep breathing, Xander was calming - some real healing could now take place. There were still cracks, but now they were both acknowledging them. Anya began to believe, just for a minute, that their relationship might work.

And as Xander stood up, took her hand and led her towards the bedroom, it was as if nothing had changed. Except in her heart, she kept that pain, the pain of rejection. Anya knew for her, their love would never be quite the same again.

**********************

The mansion was so quiet. That was the first thing that hit Buffy. It was an overwhelming absence of sound, without murmur or rustle, and the sense that something was not quite right here. After years of being the slayer, Buffy knew that now was the time to trust her instincts.

As she made her way into the mansion from the rambling gardens, the strangest sense of deja vu came over her. She remembered sitting with Angel at the fireplace on her 18th birthday, while he tried to convince her that Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poetry was indeed a thing of beauty. The way the affronted literature lover in Angel had come out at Buffy's explicit dislike for all the thees and thous had been a slightly telling revelation... But mostly she remembered the tenderness of his fingers as he stroked her cheek, telling her he loved her - even if she hated the poetry. Buffy faintly smiled at the memory, at her youth and the days when she still had Angel in her head. It was all so complicated and difficult back then, more so than either of them could have handled properly. Yet she knew with all her heart she would have stayed. She knew she had believed in their love then and there, as tattered and torn as it might have been. It was strong and real. It had been unbreakable.

A sudden crash in the courtyard sent Buffy flying to her senses. Dropping into an attack position, Buffy inched forward towards the noise. Then that tingling sense of nearness to Angel smashed through her again. She whipped her head round, expecting to see him behind her, when a huge bulk rushed at her, knocking her to the ground.

Slightly winded, Buffy gathered herself up, eyeballing her attacker - and shook her head in shock. In front of her, in full vamp face, snarling and wild, stood her ex boyfriend, Angel. He looked as if all traces of sanity had been stripped, leaving him with only the primal drive of the demon.

Buffy cautiously approached him, her face a mixed show of confusion and anxiety. "Angel..."

In response, he growled and launched himself at her. This time she was ready. Flipping him over onto the floor with a heavy thump, knocking him unconscious, Buffy swiftly chained him to the wall. Staring dumbfoundedly at the slumped form of her former lover, Buffy huddled herself further into the corner, her mind only just registering that this was not the first time she had seen Angel like this. Except this time she was pretty much certain that he hadn't just returned from a day trip to hell...

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