The Angel's Knight #25 - Confusion to My Enemies

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110 miles north of Los Angeles, October 15, 2017

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Everyone is staring, including myself. I can't help it. Granted, I don't know much about this woman in front of me, but the way first Cordelia and then Angel have talked about her ... I kinda expected her to be taller, you know? As it is she is at least an inch or two smaller than me. Skinnier, too. Still, there is something about her. Something that makes things itch in the back of my head.

"That's ... that's Buffy, right?" I ask, just looking for independent confirmation here.

Faith, standing right next to me, is also busy with staring, but takes the time to answer my question. "Yeah, Diana. That's B."

Somehow the fact that she called me by my name rather than 'kid' does more to drive home the severity of this situation than all the stares. Here's a woman who died sixteen years ago, died saving the world, and she just climbed out of a limousine and asked if anyone missed her while she was gone.

The staring last for an eternity, or so it feels to me, until Buffy takes a few hesitant steps forward. Her cheery greeting a minute ago does not go together with the look on her face. It's confused, uncertain. I know that look quite well, thank you. I've seen it in the mirror as far back as I can remember (all two weeks of it). It should make me feel some sympathy for her, I guess, especially knowing her history, but somehow ... I can't shake the feeling that there is something incredibly wrong about this situation.

I finally tear my eyes away and look at the one person Buffy is staring at in turn. Angel. Why doesn't that surprise me? From everything I heard these two were supposed to be like the Romeo and Juliet of the supernatural world.

In the time I've known the man, which isn't too long admittedly, I've barely ever seen any kind of emotion on his face. There was that slight smile he gave me during our little basement talk, but that was pretty much it. Right now his face is pure stone, but his eyes ... his eyes are shining with so much emotion that it almost tears my heart out.

"Buffy?" he whispers. His voice is filled with ... something. Disbelief? Hope? I'm not sure.

A slight smile of her own is on her lips as she walks closer to him.

"That's what they tell me," she says. "I'm ... I'm not exactly certain. You ... you know me, right? We know each other."

Angel says nothing, just keeps staring at her as if he hopes to figure things through sheer intensity. Buffy begins to fidget under his gaze.

"Do we?" she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.

A side glance shows me that Finn and some of his men are busily shacking down the hapless driver who brought her here, but somehow I don't think he knows anything. I don't know who Wolfram & Hart are, but judging by everyone's reaction they are not the good guys. Which beggars the question, what's going on here?

"Buffy," Mr. Pryce says, taking a step forward. "Are you ... forgive us, but we are having a bit of trouble with this situation. Maybe we should ..."

He gestures towards the small base camp behind us. Chairs. People sitting down. Sounds like a good idea. If nothing else it will give people something else to do but stare. Which they are still doing. All of them. Well, I can't exactly throw stones. I'm doing it, too.

We all march toward the table, Harris quickly removing the maps. Everyone sits down without so much as breaking their stares even once. I wait for someone to miss his chair or something. Anything to break the tension. Only it doesn't happen and now we all sit. Great. We make progress, yeah us!

From the corner of my eye I can see Buzzcut instructing several of the soldiers to keep their weapons trained on the newcomer.

"Tell me ... Buffy," Mr. Pryce begins. "What do you remember?"

She looks down, wringing her hands.

"I ... mostly bits and pieces. I woke up in a cave of some kind and ... I think I walked around in a daze for some time before people found me. They said ... they kept calling me Buffy and said they wanted to help me. When they called me that a few of my memories came back. Sunnydale, going to high school, some of you guys. It's all ... distant, though. A bit unreal."

I try to figure out what it is that creeps me out so much about her. I mean, I never met Buffy Summers, so how should I be able to tell what's right or wrong about her? Faith told me that Slayers have some kind of sixth sense regarding dangers of the creepy kind. I look sideways at her and she, too, is fixated on the blonde woman. Seeing as Faith has been a Slayer about twenty years longer than me she should be better at figuring this stuff out, right?

Looking back at Buffy, I once again feel this buzzing in the back of my head. I figure that's the alarm bell part of this Slayer sense thing. It came on in the alley when I used a wooden spoon to kill a vampire. Man, sometimes even thinking this stuff weirds me out in a big way. Anyway, it came on again when I first met Faith, then Angel, and there is some kind of low-level buzzing with Tara, too.

That shouldn't worry me, though, right? If she's Buffy, then she's supernatural, too, so the buzz has good reason to be there. Somehow I can't quite convince myself. Buzz doesn't equal buzz and this one definitely ranges closer to the one the alley vampire gave me rather than the Faith- or Angel-type.

I look at Angel again, who hasn't said so much as a single word since calling her by her name. I can't even guess what he's thinking right now. Cordelia said something about the two of them having some sort of bond. They felt each other's presence, they shared dreams, that sort of stuff. Is he feeling it now? Or does he have the same problem I have? Some kind of feeling he can't make sense of?

"These people," Mr. Pryce continues, "they work for Wolfram & Hart?"

"That's what they said, yes. They told me ... well, stuff. It managed to jar loose some of my memories, but I get the feeling there is still a lot I don't know. They said you guys knew me and would be able to help me figure things out."

She looks around, briefly focusing on everyone. When she meets my eyes I get the chills. Something about the look in that eyes ... it feels wrong! Incredibly wrong. I can't put it any better than that. It's as if the very fact of her being here violates some kind of natural law or something. Is it just me or is the air around us filled with enough tension to cut it with a knife?

Finn comes over, a frustrated look on his face. His eyes, too, are glued to Buffy.

"The driver says he was simply hired by the lawyers to drive her here and doesn't know anything. I believe him."

Buffy is back to staring at Angel. Somehow that irritates me.

"Excuse us for a moment," Angel says, gesturing for the rest of us to follow him. We leave Buffy sitting alone at the table, the look on her face despondent. Okay, I guess I would be the same way if I returned from the dead and my friends reacted this way. Still, no sympathy feelings yet. Does that make me a bad person or just overly paranoid regarding apparent resurrections?

Once we are out of earshot the first to talk is Faith.

"It can't be B, can it? I mean, I do get that tingle from her, but it's ... different. Besides, Wolfram & Hart?"

"Tara?" Angel turns to look at the blonde witch.

"I'm not sure. There is nothing in her aura that indicates lying, but ... something is off."

"Are we really talking about this?" Harris growls. "That isn't Buffy. Buffy died sixteen years ago. Wolfram & Hart are trying to do something to us, that's all. Sending us a doppelganger of Buffy is low, even for them, but..."

Angel finally breaks his silence. "Cordelia had a vision that Buffy would return for the battle ahead."

Everyone stares at him, stunned, including myself. Where did that come from? We talked about that vision I shared with Cordelia, the one that showed Buffy jumping off that tower, but that's the first I've heard of her returning. He should have told me!

A second later I chide myself. Why should Angel tell me something like that? I'm a stranger to him, not exactly the first to tell all your most intimate secrets to. Still, for some reason I can't quite explain I'm extremely angry with him for withholding that piece of information. Almost as if ... it's crazy. I barely even know Angel.

"We still don't know how accurate that vision is, Angel," Mr. Pryce interjects. "And, even if we entertain the possibility that this is really Buffy sitting at the table over there, we should still keep in mind that Wolfram & Hart sent her here. Even in the best of all possible worlds I doubt they would do so without some strings attached."

Faith takes a step closer to Angel. "What do you feel from her, big guy?"

He shakes his head, sighing. "I'm not sure. Buffy and I ... we always had a sense for each other, but ... I feel something from her, but it's ... strange."

"If she went through some kind of reincarnation process then she's bound to feel a little different, right?" Finn looks at the others. His face is filled with mixed feelings. Did he know Buffy as well? I don't think anyone filled me in on that bit of history.

"She feels wrong!" The words are out of my mouth before I can help it and everyone is staring at me.

"What do you mean, kid?" Faith asks.

Part of me wants to go and hide in a corner somewhere, but I don't. Everything that's happened to me has led me here, to this place and these people. I can't shake the feeling that I'm to do something really important here and I'm not about to mess it up. Besides, haven't I resolved to listen to my instincts? If I hadn't I certainly would never have come here.

"I don't know. I mean, I never met Buffy. Would be kinda hard, seeing as I was about a year old on the day she ... you know. But ... I look at her and ... it's wrong. Like that vampire in the alley, only more so."

They share glances with each other, probably debating how much my words are worth. It's not like they know me well enough to trust my judgment. Two days ago I wouldn't have trusted my own judgment, especially not when it comes to vampires, demons, and pretending to be a dead friend come back to life, but...

Basically, we want to offer you to return from the dead and become one of the living again.

Okay, where did that come from? I seem to remember someone saying these words to me, but who? And when? I'm sure I would remember if someone had told me something like that during the last two weeks, so ... oh God, could this mean my memory is starting to return? But why would I remember someone telling me about a return from the dead? Okay, so I was dead. For thirty minutes or so, but I doubt that entailed a meeting with God or any such thing, did it?

"We can't deal with this now," I hear Buzzcut whisper to Finn. "We're about to head into a battle. A distraction like this..."

Finn just nods, cutting him off with a gesture. Maybe this is exactly why these wolf guys delivered her to us? Confusion to my enemies and such? They certainly succeeded there. Everyone around me is uncertain what to do now and I'm afraid my comments didn't make it much better.

I turn to look at Buffy again, hoping for some kind of divine inspiration to help me figure out the buzz I'm getting from her. The world around me seems to narrow down, the others fading away. I can feel a pulsing in my blood, almost as if I'm reacting to something that is getting stronger and stronger by the moment. A mile or more behind where Buffy is sitting I can see the dark outline of the dust storm that obscures the ruins of Sunnydale from view. It shouldn't stand out against the dark sky this way, but I can see it just fine.

It almost looks like it's glowing from the inside and the glow frames Buffy's figure like a halo. She looks up and meets my eyes.

The First is a master of illusion and manipulation, but also holds real power. It could, for instance, promise Angel to bring you back to him.

Is this a memory? Or something else? I can't tell. Something is happening to me, something I can't really describe. It feels like something inside me is parting like a curtain, as if the pieces are coming together to form a picture for once. Being here, it feels right. Being with these people, it feels right. Planning for a battle to prevent the world from ending, it feels right.

But her, that woman that looks like Buffy Summers, does not.

My body starts moving, leaving my brain three steps behind. I walk right up to this imposter, never breaking eye contact with her. There is a mixture of confusion and weariness on her face as she rises from her chair, her body falling into a combat stance. She thinks I want to fight her. I'm not sure what I want to do, what I'm doing right here, but I know. Somehow I know.

Some part of my mind realizes the others are right behind me, several of them ready to jump between me and the other in case something happens. Angel's presence is like a cool pressure against my back, but I haven't got time to think about that now. I look into the imposter's eyes from less than a foot away.

"You are not Buffy Summers!"

And like a steel cable stretched beyond endurance the tension suddenly snaps and all hell breaks loose.

TO BE CONTINUED