The Angel's Knight #17 - Guy Talk

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Los Angeles, October 15, 2017

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"Buffy?" Wesley asks, an incredulous look on his face.

I nod, cradling the steaming cup of tea in my hands. The scalding warmth seeps into my hands, but fails to chase the chill from my bones. It's something I never felt during my long years as Angelus, but ever since the return of my soul I've always been cold. Except for some precious few moments with a person now long dead. Since she died the chill has grown worse.

"That's what Maryke said Cordy saw," I confirm. "Buffy and me, fighting against each other in some kind of big battle. Apparently she and Giles felt I shouldn't be told until they could confirm it."

Wesley frowns, leaning back in his chair to sip from his own cup of tea.

"They did not tell me about that one, either. Are we certain it was really Buffy? We know of more than one demonic species that can assume the guise of others. Being able to take the form of your opponent's loved ones is a psychological tactical advantage."

"Maryke seemed certain. I will talk to Cordelia tomorrow, but her visions have never been wrong so far, have they?"

God, I wish she would be wrong just this once. Buffy is at rest. Safe. She has to be.

"Not wrong, no, but sometimes misleading."

There were quite a few instances of that, yes. Even if I live another 264 years I will never understand why higher powers seem incapable of giving anything but cryptic advice. And yes, I realize that might be a case of hypocrisy on my part, considering how I spent my first year in Sunnydale, but it does not make it any less annoying.

The first thing I did when I got back to Los Angeles was to check Buffy's grave. After I learned of Willow's horribly botched resurrection attempt all these years ago I personally went to Sunnydale and recovered Buffy's remains. No one would desecrate her like that ever again. I needed every ounce of self-control I ever had not to tear off Willow's head back then.

If I had done that I might have saved quite a few lives a year down the line.

Buffy is now buried in the garden of the Hyperion, her grave protected by numerous wards and spells. It is undisturbed. Whatever is going to happen will not involve her remains, that much at least seems certain.

"I fear there is little we can do about that but wait," I sigh, feeling anything but happy with that state of affairs. "Besides, there are quite a few other things we have to worry about, aren't there?"

Wesley looks at me for a long moment, probably hoping I will say more. Ever since my near-breakdown all these years ago when I fired them and went off the deep end my friends have been trying to be more understanding, to draw me out and get me to talk about my feelings. I love them for that, but it's just not the kind of person I am. There are things about me they will never understand.

"What did Maryke say about Darla?" Wesley asks.

That is the other little topic my friends have been extremely worried about ever since Cordelia first saw Darla in one of her visions. It was Darla that nearly drove me insane, after all, nearly caused me to lose my way. I told them everything that happened years ago, including my sort-of suicide attempt when I slept with her. I know that Wesley has several people in place here in the Foundation whose sole job it is to keep a lookout for Darla, sworn not to say a word about it to me. I don't really mind. The topic of Darla was closed that night sixteen years ago as far as I'm concerned.

Only now it isn't.

"She says she will return, along with that strange girl Cordelia always sees at her side."

Wesley nods, cleaning his glasses as he sometimes does. I wonder if it's a habit he picked up from Giles or something all Watchers do.

"You think you are ready to see her again?" he finally asks.

"I honestly don't know. I laid Darla to rest in my mind a long time ago, but if she were to come here, stand before me ... I don't know, Wes. I am kind of hoping it won't come to that."

Wesley will probably try and make sure it won't come to that. The right thing would be for me to say something about that, as it could get people killed. I keep my quiet, though. For some reason the prospect of seeing Darla again fills me with dread.

Thinking of Darla causes me to think about that girl she had with her. I only had Cordelia's description or her before, but now, having seen the image thanks to Maryke's magic, I can't help but think I should know her from somewhere. The eyes, something was incredibly familiar about that girl's eyes, but I can't put my finger on it.

Deciding to distract myself from my own thoughts I broach another topic.

"Have you found out anything about our mystery guest?" I nod in the direction of the stairs. By now Diana is probably asleep, resting after a day filled with surprises. Seeing her earlier, so much confusion in her eyes, she reminded me of ... no, that's not a direction I want to explore further. It's bad enough that a vision tells me that Buffy will return to fight against me. The last thing I need, the last thing that poor girl needs, is for things to get even more complicated than they are already.

Still, that moment when our hands touched, it was almost like... God, I really don't need this. Not now!

"Not much," Wesley answers my question. "She is a Slayer, no doubt about it, but as to how she could be called... we don't have a clue. My best theory at the moment is something along the lines of divine intervention. Maybe the Powers That Be have finally realized that having but a single girl in all the world to fight against thousands of vampires and demons is not a sensible alignment of forces."

I manage a chuckle. "Yes, like that's going to happen."

"The only other explanation would be for Faith to have died and I don't see how that could have happened. Unless someone kidnapped her, stopped her heart for a minute, brought her back, and wiped her memory of the whole thing. Now, I'm not someone to call anything impossible, but..."

"It's farfetched to say the least," I finish for him.

"Yes."

We lapse into silence for a moment, my thoughts returning to the triangle of problems currently in my lap. Darla and the mystery girl, Buffy, Diana. I shy away from seeking any kind of connection between the three, but my thoughts go off on their own. Darla was the one who made me into a demon. Buffy was the one who made me into a man.

Diana doesn't fit in with the other two. Just a girl, even though she's a Slayer. Maybe she can be a valuable asset to our cause, but certainly no more than that. I haven't allowed anyone to be more than that ever since... I can't afford these kinds of entanglements. I value my friends, they keep me sane, but that's it! The last time I allowed myself to feel more than that for another person it ended in catastrophe.

"What do you think of her?" Wesley asks.

"Of Diana? I can't really say, having only met her for a few seconds."

He falls silent, but keeps looking at me in that way he sometimes has. The one that says he wants to broach a topic but doesn't know how. Wesley has changed a lot from the foppish wannabe Watcher I first met in Sunnydale, but he still retains a healthy amount of British reserve.

"What?" I finally ask, my patience thin tonight.

"Tara came by earlier and she mentioned... well, apparently when she saw you and Diana together there seemed to be something of a..."

His voice trails off, but I hear the word he isn't saying. Spark. There was a spark. When her hand touched mine I felt something, something so familiar it hurt, especially because I haven't felt, haven't allowed myself to feel it for so long.

Contrary to what people might think I'm well aware of the effect I have on a lot of women. I may not be able to see my own reflection, but I would have to be blind not to recognize the looks I often get. When I was still Angelus, I delighted in using my appearance to lure in the unsuspecting. No longer.

I ignore all the looks; I refuse all the many - sometimes barely veiled - offers I have gotten over the years. And it's not just because of the curse, though that is a danger I can never completely banish from my thoughts. It's not because I'm in love with my own brooding self, either. (I think it was Cordelia who came up with that theory.)

"I don't know what Tara saw," I tell Wesley, "but it doesn't matter."

"Really?"

I give him a look, telling him to let it go, but he ignores me.

"Angel, I like to believe I have a certain amount of insight into your character, or as much as any of us has. I have seen you get more and more closed off ever since ... that day."

That day. No need to mention a date, we both know exactly what day he is talking about. The day the girl I promised forever to died while I was off in another dimension, giggling at my own reflection in the sunlight. The day I failed her.

"I know how much you loved her, my friend," Wesley says. "Do you think she would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life like this?"

"Maybe I can ask her that soon enough."

Wesley sinks back into his chair. The situation is a lot more complicated than that, isn't it? Cordelia's vision has put everything into question. Buffy will come back and we will fight against each other. Maybe it means I will lose my soul again and she will be forced to stop me. Or maybe it is her that has somehow been taken over by the dark forces. Maybe it's all a ruse, a mistake, a metaphor for something entirely different.

I don't know what is going to happen. I don't know what Buffy might have wanted for me, but I do know what I have to do to honor her memory. When she died I considered meeting the sunrise, hoping that I would find her in whatever afterlife might await me.

I resisted that temptation, refused to take the easy way out. There was too much work left undone, too many evils still left in the world. I will stomp them all out, no matter how long it takes. I will finish the job Buffy started even if it takes me forever to do so. And then, when that job is done...

"I know you mean well, Wesley," I tell him, "but that is not something you can help me with. Whatever might or might not have happened with this girl makes absolutely no difference. There are a lot of things that are more important happening right now."

If there is one thing I have learned in my life, especially in these last two decades, it's how to compartmentalize. Looks to the contrary I am not a man. I have feelings, desires, and urges that my friends can never know about. The hunger I feel whenever Fred stretches her neck after a long day of work. The seething hatred still simmering somewhere in the depths of my soul every single time I meet with Riley. The urge to pay Xander back for all the cruel jokes and taunts, to show him exactly how close to the abyss he has been dancing every time he got smart with me.

I have pushed these things away, hidden them deep in the darkness. It's the same place where I have hidden many of my more human feelings. I am not a man, no matter how hard I try to pretend for the sake of my friends and myself. There are things a man feels that I am not allowed to feel, cannot allow myself to feel. Contentment. Happiness. Peace. If I become complacent about my existence the whole world might pay the price, so I have to push all that away and hide it in the dark as well. It's the only way I can go on from day to day.

"There is one possibility you have not considered yet," Wesley goes on.

"And that would be?"

"As you said, Cordelia's visions, while never false, are often not what they seem. It is possible that the scene she saw, you fighting against Buffy, is not what will actually happen, but rather an approximation. A metaphor."

"For what?"

"For you having to fight a Slayer to the death. A Slayer that is not necessarily Buffy."

I fall silent. That is a possibility I had not considered. Could that be what is going to happen? If yes, how? And more importantly, who? Over the years Faith has become like a little sister to me and the thought of having to fight her... it hurts. It physically hurts.

And Diana? It's strange that a girl I met only once should occupy so much of my thoughts. What if it's her? What if she is here as part of some kind of elaborate stratagem? A mole put into my home by our enemies, whoever they are. No, I can't quite believe that. Faith and Tara are both certain that she is a Slayer and when I touched her ... I felt many things, but no malice, no subterfuge.

Still, it's not a possibility to be discarded without further investigation.

"I assume you have already begun investigating Diana's past?"

Wesley nods, rubbing his tired eyes. "One of Fred's assistants is on it. Preliminary research indicates she is who she says she is. Or rather who those social services people in the hospital told her she is. Her memory loss remains another mystery."

"I want someone to keep an eye on her at all times. She could be a tremendous help to us, but if you are right and she is part of the vision..."

I don't finish the sentence; I don't have to. Wesley and I have both been there the last time a Slayer changed sides. This time the stakes might be even higher. We can't afford any kind of slip-up.

Wesley and I go on talking for some time, but it's just routine matters and I stop paying full attention, my thoughts once again moving along familiar paths. Buffy. Darla. Diana. I hope Wesley is right and Buffy's appearance in the vision is nothing but a misleading metaphor. I pray he is right.

I can't afford feelings right now. Not for Buffy, not for Darla, not for this girl that has suddenly appeared in my life and managed to chase the chill from my bones for the briefest of moments with a simple handshake. I push them away into the darkness.

I have a lot of practice doing that.



TO BE CONTINUED