Chapter Five: Showtime/What You Have To Do

(The Dressing Room, Heaven)

She put her red lipstick on---harlot---it suited her mood, and she smiled as big as she could into the mirror lined with lights. But it still looked hollow to her. So she picked up some blush and began to paint her cheeks.

How was tonight going to end? When dawn came again, which one of the men she loved would have left her? Her heart skipped a beat and when she looked at herself in the mirror she actually saw fear in her eyes.

Then there was someone else. Guiseppe stepped out from the darkness, appearing behind Buffy in the reflection of her mirror. She tried to cover her fear with a smile.

"Hey boss man," Buffy tried as she turned to face him with her half-hearted smile shaking, threatening to fall off her face at any moment. But it didn't matter, he was not looking at her, he had a thousand yard stare.

Then slowly, he spoke: "Are you happy, Buffy? Are you happy here with me?" he asked her quietly---the words had traveled a long way from deep inside of him and he looked tired now that they were free.

His brows were furrowed in thought and he didn't wait long enough for her to answer. He shook his head a little and continued. "---With Angel, then? Are you happy when you are with him, Buffy?"

Only then did his eyes flicker over to her face to see what her answer really was. But she wore a blank expression-like an open canvas, he could see anything he wanted to in it. And his face wore pain.

"A little deep for a Friday night, isn't it?" she tried lightly, as she turned back to the mirror to focus her attention on her blush.

But he wouldn't let go. Not that easy. He grabbed her arm and squeezed tight. Guiseppe needed to know if he was right. She followed his arm up and met his gaze with strength behind her eyes. But he was insistent.

"You are an ungrateful, stupid little girl! All of this---all of THIS---" he lashed at her with his arms flailing around him, gesturing to the room at large. "---All for you---for YOU! And still you are unhappy. I don't know what else to do." He exasperated and let go of her arm as he stepped away from her. "You're insufferable, really."

But Buffy misunderstood him. Her eyes glazed over with the hardness that was so easy to hold onto.

"I never asked for any of this," she said firmly as she rose from her stool and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You gave it to me. You FORCED it on me. 'Buffy can't roam the streets' and 'Buffy can't fight' and 'Buffy doesn't like that' and 'Buffy acts this way'-I am so-TIRED of it. I am exhausted by it---trying to be this person, this superhero, for you. I can only be me. Buffy."

She had softened a little by the end and turned away from him, her arms now dangling past her hips, and silence filled the room, comforting them both for the long moment.

Then, surprisingly, a slow smile crept across his old and tired face, pulling up the corners of his lips just a little and he tried to fight it.

"You love him," he said with newfound amazement, shaking his head and taking off his glasses to wipe them with his jacket. "It's him and not Angel."

Her head perked up at that. She turned her shoulders first, slowly, to face him again. There was dread in her eyes now. But he continued on without taking in her reaction. He knew the truth.

"He's the tie that binds you to that world. Honestly I never believed it. I didn't think what you two had was real--but I should have known *he* was the link. After his sacrifice, when it was all over and you still couldn't-- -you wouldn't--" his voice trailed off as he quickly glanced over at her to see if he had sparked anything. He had said too much. Or maybe too little.

Buffy was just staring hard at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her eyes searching his for answers. Her arms had crossed in front of her low-cut red dress and her breasts here heaving with rapid breaths of what he considered uncertainty.

He took a deep breath and tried to set the record straight. "I just want you to know that I love you. I always have. And I'm sorry for doubting you-and for doubting him all these years," he uttered as came closer to her.

Buffy was about to speak, but she stopped herself. Guiseppe was always watching her. He obviously knew more about her than she knew about herself and it wasn't right. Something was definitely wrong. She didn't know how he knew about Spike, or any of the countless other things he knew about her. But she should find out. This was serious. He was talking about other worlds, other lives---

But when she looked up into his eyes she had to smile. There was only love for her and she couldn't fault him for knowing her too well.

"I love you too," she conceded as she opened her arms to him and pressed her cheek into his chest. "But please, please tell me the truth. I know you think you've been protecting me from it, but I NEED to know now. It's getting to be too much to bear---the not knowing---"

She was squeezing him so tightly to her, he couldn't breathe. Well, she's still got the strength---even here, he thought to himself. He had to smile to himself even though it kind of hurt. And he knew what he had to do. He was going to tell her what he had done.

"Buffy, I need to tell you something very important-something you might not want to hear, but you have to hear it because it changes everything---"

And he was about to say it. The truth about all of this was on the tip of his tongue. He didn't know how he would explain to her what he had done, but he would. It was all about to come rushing out. All about the spell---how he had worked it---WHY he had worked it. It was all for her, for her happiness, and now she would finally know.

But no one had heard Angel approach. "Well, well, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I must admit it's hard to find a time when you're not in another man's arms," he watched coldly from the doorway.

"Angel," Guiseppe jumped a step away from Buffy. "You startled me."

"Telling our little secrets, father?"

Guiseppe took off his glasses and wiped them on his tie, ignoring Angel's vague innuendo. "Buffy, we'll talk after your show."

"Of course," she said with disappointment in her voice and watched him carefully, studying his every move as he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Buffy turned back to the mirror, her shoulders slumped a little in defeat, and sat down to finish her makeup, trying to ignore Angel looming over her. She had a lot to think about without taking him into consideration.

Guiseppe was going to tell her something, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Not really. She knew it had something to do with Spike---and Angel-- -even her and Guiseppe. He had said, "After his sacrifice, when it was all over and you still couldn't---you wouldn't---

Those words haunted her. They invoke a memory just out of her reach. She closed her eyes, willing the memory to come to her. But all she saw was an all-encompassing bright white light that seemed to explode. And when she opened her eyes, Angel was still there, staring at her even harder than before.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" he asked her.

"Not so much" she returned too lightly.

There was the heaviness of an awkward silence for a moment. And she closed her eyes tight as she put down her makeup brush and put her hand to her forehead. How could she explain this to Angel? How could she explain this to herself?

She loved Angel---he loved her too. He was all she knew---all she had ever known. And Spike-well, she didn't know him at all. She just felt she knew him. She felt familiar when she was with him. Guiseppe knew something about all of this, but he wouldn't tell, not in front of his son anyway.

And suddenly she knew what she had to do. She just had to tell the truth- throw consequence to the wind.

"I do have something to tell you," she started to explain when she turned to look at him and rose from her seat like a saint to her martyrdom.

"I saw him," Angel cut her short. "Climbing out your window like some bleached Romeo."

Buffy winced at the harshness of his tone and the impact of his words. "Angel, I---"

"You what!" He yelled. "Let me guess---You're sorry? He's a killer, Buffy. A killer who is going to kill our family! He's going to take everyone I love away from me---" he finished weakly.

He spun around from her, his fists clenched, pain in his eyes. Buffy walked over to him and gently put her hands on his back when she spoke to him.

"Angel, there is no easy way to say this. I love you. I always have and I always will. But Spike-he feels familiar to me. I feel like myself when I'm with him---that part of me that I can't remember actually stirs when he's near me. And I can't help it. I wish I didn't---"

Angel looked down at her, his eyes wide with fear. His head was slowly shaking back and forth, willing her not to say it.

"But I do," she finished quickly. Then she drew a ragged breath. "I love him. I do. I knew it from the first second I saw him in Heaven. And maybe even before then---"

Angel stood there silently. He was no longer looking at Buffy. There was a timid air about him she didn't recognize. Something that appeared like a realization crossed his eyes and she turned away from him. She didn't want to see it. It looked like a memory.

Then, like a godsend, outside the thin door the music picked up. A slow jazz number. The club was waiting for Buffy. She walked back over to her mirror.

"Can you please say something?" she asked him quietly as she slipped a feather in her hair.

"There's nothing left to say," he replied a little too quickly. "It's show time."

She pressed her lips together and walked delicately across the room, pausing once at the door, then opening it and slipping quietly out the same door Angel had strode through. And then he was alone in the dressing room.

Buffy walked to the back corner of the stage, where the red velvet curtain hit the dividing wall that hid the front of the club from the back. She stayed there-in between. She leaned against the wall and clung to the thick of the curtain, pulling it to her as she waited for her time to come.

The club was packed. Buffy could smell it in the air. The scent made her high. It got under her skin and made her hum. Her hips rocked back and forth in anticipation. But as she looked into the darkness, she knew it wasn't Heaven that made her feel this way.

This buzz came from Spike. Buffy could feel him on her skin. He was here. She could almost feel his eyes on her. She stopped swaying and started to smile-the light came back to her eyes and filled her insides, raising her up.

But then Angel walked out of the back and into the middle of the busy club, locking eyes with her. And then there was a sinking feeling in her gut that made her cold. Then she felt it in her bones--this night was cursed.

Suddenly she had the sense to run. Lift up her dress a little, run down the stairs, through this crowd, out the doors, down the street and out of this life. For good. She was searching quietly, discreetly, for a way out.

But then her eyes got to the corner table. And he was there, like he always was, watching her. Always watching. Guiseppe's eyes were already on her. Smiling at her. Calming her. Reminding her there was something else going on underneath all of this madness. And she would know what it was soon enough.

So when the piano started to resonate with an old familiar song, she stepped up to her place in the spotlight without another thought.

And in the deep shadows of Heaven, Spike closed his eyes and winced as a pang shuddered through him.

He really thought Buffy might go. For a moment, he could sense her searching for an exit route. He willed her to run. Get out of this. But of course she stayed.

Buffy had that sense of loyalty in her. He felt it when he kissed her. She made him love and hate her with a fiery passion he feared would consume him. And soon, he thought, it might.

Then his gaze fell on Guiseppe and his eyes grew cold with the understanding of what he had to do.

TBC