Chapter Nine

Buffy had just left Willow resting in her mom's old room. After a little while Willow's sobbing had stopped and she had asked if she could have a place to rest. The signal to Buffy had been clear: back off, give me some space. But it was the last thing Buffy wanted to do. Beyond comforting Willow, next on her list of priorities was the strong desire to give Xander a piece of her mind and maybe her fist. She had never been so angry with him. If he could act that way, he had no idea how hard it was for Will to come back here after everything that had happened -. He was supposed to be Will's oldest friend. Buffy balled up her fists in frustration, looking up at the starry sky.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

Buffy shivered, and turned round. She'd known he was there.

"The worse thing is, I know how Xander feels," she replied, sitting next to LA Angel on the porch.

"And how's that?" he prompted gently.

"Guilty, angry, helpless. Like he's watching a sinking ship," Buffy told him, looking down at her hands.

He looked keenly at her then, his eyes searching hers. "So the real question is, are you talking about you or Xander here?"

Their eyes locked and suddenly it was as if they had never been apart. LA Angel went to reach for her hand, but she pushed herself away, quickly standing.

"Buffy," he questioned, worried.

"Err, I've got to go," she mumbled, awkwardly. "I've got to check on Angel."

He watched her go, his thoughts confused. What on earth nearly just happened there and why was he so sad it stopped?

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

Spike stretched back leisurely in his car seat, his eyes taking in the grimy skyline of downtown LA.

"Back in the big smoke - got to say it is missing something," Spike drawled, smiling evilly at his companion. The smaller vamp gulped, and smiled nervously at Spike.

"What would you say it is, Vince?" Spike pressed, tapping his fingers erratically against the steering wheel.

"Well, Sunnydale is much nicer, having a hellmouth and all, sir," Vince burbled, looking beseechingly at Spike. "Maybe that's what it is?"

"Vince, Vince, Vince," Spike almost sang, punctuating each flash of the vamp's name with a punch to the dash. "Still so young and still so stupid. You should know by now I'm not much one for the pre-show - I'm all for getting answers. So where's Mr Demon at?"

Vince drew an unneeded breath in utter relief at finally having a question he had half a shot at answering. "Like I told you, I always met him around here."

"Convenient," Spike retorted, looking pointedly at the door. "So what are you waiting for?"

Not needing to be told twice, Vince jumped out, looking anxiously around for any signs of the demon who had got him into this mess. He had thought it would be easy money, but now he wished he had never heard of this freak, Angel, let alone this psycho peroxide vamp, Spike. Only being sired 8 months at best, Vince knew next to nothing about the ways of the demon world but he was learning fast - and right now, if he wanted to stay dust-free, he knew he had to tow the line.

"So, where is he?" Spike demanded, irritably.

Vince looked down at his feet. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Spike leered, gripping Vince's collar, his other fist dangerously close to Vince's face.

"Look, I can find him," Vince promised, his voice shaky. "Just give me a chance."

Spike slowly released Vince's collar, giving Vince a chance to smooth down his rumpled clothes. Spike nodded at Vince, who nervously began to make his way down an alley. Spike cursed at his luck for being stuck with this numbskull, who, unfortunately for Spike, was the best lead they had.

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

Buffy knocked tentatively at the door of her own bedroom, feeling slightly awkward. Just an hour ago, she would have slipped in here without thinking about it, but now, she wasn't even sure what the boundaries were. She wondered how exactly they had gone from being inseparable soulmates to super-polite; somewhere between this Angel's big emotional block off and the little moment she had bolted from with his counterpart.

There was no answer to her knock, but Buffy was in no mood to wait. She knew Angel too well to think that alone time was a good thing for him when things were troubling him. He would just brood and push the people who loved and cared about him away, preferring to deal on his own. That was not an option as far as Buffy was concerned.

Buffy inched the door open, and flicked the light on. Her heart lurched at the sight of Angel lying flat on her bed, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Suddenly all her feelings of awkwardness disappeared and she was overcome with a rush of tenderness for this vulnerable being. She sat quietly at the end of the bed and waited for him to speak.

"It's funny," he began, still staring upwards. "I never realised that you had such a fascinating ceiling."

Buffy had to resist the urge to chuckle. Typical Angel reaction: avoid the emotional heaviness through wit. "Well, you know, one of the best in Sunnydale," she returned, mock serious. He looked at her then, and almost smiled.

"So, I guess you didn't come up here to talk ceilings," he joked.

"Really not," Buffy conceded, moving a little closer. "But I did want to see how you were doing."

Angel sighed loudly, and pulled himself up so he was sitting against Buffy's pillows. "Maybe that's not an area we should get into right now."

Buffy reached forwards and touched his hand lightly. "I think now's perfect timing. Spill," she told him firmly.

"Buffy, what can I say? I feel lost, like I don't belong. Like I'm living someone else's life, stealing someone else's girl. I shouldn't be here, and we both know that," he replied, his voice deepening in frustration.

"No," Buffy cried. "We really don't know anything. Who's to say you don't, who's to say-"

"Don't, Buffy, please," he whispered. "We both know how this is going to end and I don't want to draw it out anymore than necessary. I can't bear to hurt you."

"Then don't," she pleaded, grasping at his shoulders. "Don't give up! Give us a chance to work this out. I need you to be strong for me, Angel. I need you to believe we can get through this."

Angel gazed at her face, fired with love and absolute belief, and he had no more fight. From what Buffy had told him, that had been "LA" Angel's mistake, to battle against her love and acceptance; and he had seen firsthand the damage that this rejection had done. He decided then not to make the same mistake. "I love you, Buffy," he said simply, kissing her forehead.

"Good," she answered softly, snuggling up against him, closing her eyes as she felt Angel's comforting arms around her.

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

Xander had first gone for a walk, then had decided to run, letting his legs take him on an endless journey - until of course, he had been stopped by crippling stitch and the need to breathe. Still he had felt a strange sense of freedom he had been without for months, a lightness of mind. He had had no other purpose but to move, to tramp over gravel and earth, and it was exhilarating. But then he had stopped and realised he had to go back.

Now he was outside 1630 Rovello Drive, staring at the 3 panes of glass in the front door, wondering why everything always came back to this point. Why out of all the things that he, Xander Harris, could have been destined for, was this it? He was just an ordinary man; he had no special powers. Why did he have to be subject to the emotional debris of world savage?

He turned round, not at all surprised to find Buffy's ex eyeing him carefully. "So, is this where you go for the man-to-man chat? Cos really not up to hearing about this from Mr Sensitive, Soul-having, Soul-saving extraordinaire," Xander snapped.

Angel grabbed hold of his shoulders firmly, glaring icily at Xander. "No this is the point where you grow up and stop acting like such an asshole," Angel rejoined, as Xander's mouth hung open in surprise. "You can't just go around lashing out when people need you."

Xander shoved Angel off him, straightening his shirt up. "Why don't you just go back to being the slayer's lapdog instead of trying to act like you give a damn?"

"I do care," Angel reiterated. "It's what I do; it's my mission. I save souls. And Willow needs help right now."

Xander shook his head in disgust. "So what do you think, that you can come back here, get the girl effortlessly and bag a soul savage simultaneously? Well, Soul-boy, I've tried with Willow, tried and tried. And it really didn't work too well. She's gone, none of the old Will left, and yellow crayons ain't gonna cut it this time."

Angel gave Xander a withering look, digging his fingers into his hand. "So you just give up? Have you got so little faith in her and in yourself?" Angel asked incredulously, as Xander grimaced back at him. "What happened to you, Xander?"

"Maybe I got older," Xander cracked bitterly.

"No, Xander," Angel responded with quiet conviction. "I think you got jaded. Maybe I'm trying to save the wrong person."

"Maybe you ought to save yourself first," Xander said, beginning to walk away.

Angel swallowed his pride and went for the jugular. "I think you're right. And I only just realised that tonight when I saw how she felt for him."

Confused, Xander looked back at Angel. "Who? Spike? That's way over."

"No, Him. The other me," Angel replied, slightly crestfallen, sitting down on the step.

Now Xander's face was completely and utterly lost. "You don't know, do you?" Angel questioned. "Well, someone's cast a spell, making two of me. And I think you know the rest."

Xander sat down beside him, a bit stunned. "That happened to me, too. But Willow put us back together." Realisation suddenly hit him. "Oh no, Will! What have I done?"

Angel stood up, and opened the front door. "She's in Joyce's old room." Xander gave a quick nod, and dashed up the stairs, hoping against hope he had not done too much damage.

Angel watched the night sky for a moment, contemplating his conversation with Xander. Friendships, loves, family - they were all too fragile. He just hoped it was not too late for him to make his own amends.

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

Somewhere in the distance, a police siren wailed across the LA streets. Lilah shut her blind, and focused back on her guest.

"So," she began brightly. "Can I get you anything?" She looked at the robed demon before her, gagged and bound, surrounded by Wolfram and Hart guards. "Guess not," she mocked, indicating his condition.

The robed demon glared at her with a mixture of fury and pure malevolence, but Lilah did not even flinch. Instead she continued to smile at the demon as she watched one of the guards take out a knife.

"I'm quite disappointed actually," Lilah said. "I thought demons of your order had some honour. Apparently not. My sources tell me you've been following your own agenda, messing with the spell you were contracted to cast on Angel for your own gain. Well, I'm here to tell you that we at Wolfram and Hart take breaches of contract very seriously…"

With that, the guard slashed the demon across the throat, as it squirmed in the chair.

"But, luckily for you, we know that one very interesting side effect of your spell was the appearance of another Angel in Sunnydale," she told him. "Which is why, you'll be pleased to know, I've sent a team of our best operatives there to look see."

With that, the demon struggled violently, as the guards quelled him with a shock from a cattle prod.

"Don't worry," Lilah soothed, carefully filing her nails. "We'll soon be at the bottom of all this. And then there won't be any need for secrets - or for you."

Next part coming soon.

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