Conversations In Rome
"Here, Boss, you've got a package," Harmony says as she hands me a thickly padded envelope.
I take the manila package warily. My history with packages and Wolfram and Hart is not good. First there was Spike, like I wouldn't want to not open that one if I could re-do it. Then there was the corporalazation of Spike, again something I would undo. And the tomb that brought Illyria was just the latest debacle in the arrival of packages at Wolfram and Hart.
I turn the package over in my hands. It's relatively small. I glance doubtfully at the return address on it. It's from Rome. Buffy didn't mention mailing me anything. I tear open the package quickly and jump back. A smallish, worn leather box falls out on the carpet. It looks old and that makes me more suspicious. Buffy usually isn't into old things. She's more likely send me some kind of new fangled something or the other. I pick the box up and open it. A smile comes to my face unbidden. It's an old compass, the kind a ship's captain might have carried in his pocket. I unfold the note stuck in there and read it softly. I take a deep breath, it smells like vanilla and sunshine and strength. It smells like Buffy.
Angel,
I saw this in an antique store near the coliseum. I wanted you to have it, in case you lose your way you can always find it again.
Always,
B.
Her handwriting is still the loopy, little girlish penmanship I remember from my Sunnydale days. It's comforting to know the child/woman I fell in love with remains, even if she is more woman then child now. I re- fold the note and tuck it up inside the lid of the compass. It is as precious a gift as the compass is.
I start to pick up the phone to call Buffy and thank her. I put it down. I don't know what I'm going to say to her. I don't know how to tell her about the time warping. I certainly can't tell her I technically got staked and dusted. She'd panic and come to Los Angeles, ok so maybe not seeing such a bad side to this. No she'd panic and come to LA and kill Illyria for even attempting to dust me. As it is, I've still got a nice impalement wound in my gut from the battle that wasn't time warped and further more I got it saving Spike of all people.
I also can't exactly tell her that I'm letting a demon horde take a baby so that they can sacrifice it in thirteen years. It's not as if I intend on letting them keep the baby, I'll go back and get it after the apocalypse is adverted, but I don't know that Buffy will understand that. She'll look at it as Evil Inc. corrupting me and they aren't, not anymore. Illyria opened my eyes. She told me that the way to win a war was to serve nothing but your own ambition. My ambition is saving the world. I can't let a single being keep me from saving millions, from saving Connor, from saving Buffy. Those are the faces I kept firmly in front of me when I told the mother to be that she had made a binding agreement, the baby belonged to the Brethren.
I pick the phone back up. I need to thank her for the gift. It's one more thing to hang onto when I think my entire world is falling apart and I need to hear her voice. She's part of what I'm trying to save here. I know if there is an apocalypse she will suffer the fate of all mortals, only sooner. I wouldn't survive another one of Buffy's deaths. Two are more then enough.
"Hello," she answers.
"Buffy," I smile into the phone at the sound of her voice. I meant to say Hello, Buffy. Her name was the only thing that came out. It always happens that way.
"Angel," she smiles.
"I got your gift. Thank you," I say.
"You're more then welcome. I saw it and I thought maybe you would like it. Dawn thought I was losing my mind. She said she was pretty sure you could tell where North was. She didn't get the point. I mean that's not why I sent it to you, I know you can tell North. You can probably smell North," she says.
I chuckle. "I get the point and it's very much appreciated."
"I'm glad. How are things there?"
"I got Gunn back. Illyria, she's the demon who took over Fred's body, went and got him back," I say.
"That's great. He's okay then?" Buffy asks.
"Yeah, he's dealing with it. He's still feeling a lot of guilt over the deal with Fred and he's dealing with having his heart cut out every day, but he's going to be okay," I say.
"Good. Coming back can be tough. I'm glad he's handling it," Buffy says.
"How's Rome?" I ask.
"It's good. I'm going out tonight with some of the girls from my Italian class. It's going to be kind of nice. I don't know when the last time I went out dancing just for fun and didn't have to worry about vampires or demons or other hairy scaries," she says.
I gulp convulsively. She's going out to a club dancing where there will be other men to watch her. I take a deep breath and try to banish images of Buffy dancing with other men the way she danced with Xander in the Bronze that one night so many years ago. I had told her then that I wasn't jealous. Who the hell am I kidding? Five years later I'm still jealous of him over that one little dance. "That's-uh-that's good," I manage to choke out.
Buffy laughs. The sound sends delicious shivers up and down my spine. "Angel, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm-uh-got something caught in my throat," I try to lie.
"You don't eat," she says.
"No, it's good that you're going out, having fun, having a normal life," I say and it's true, that doesn't mean I like it.
"It is. It's integral to the baking process, sort of like flour or eggs or chocolate chips," Buffy says.
"You can make cookies without chocolate chips, Buffy," I say.
"Not my cookies," she teases.
"Just know, you can always come home," I say softly.
"I know and I will. I've gotta go. The girls are going to be here in a little while," she says.
"Alright, and Buffy, have fun," I say.
"I will and I'll call you later," she says as she hangs up.
I hang up the phone and stand before the window. The world I'm trying to save spreads before me. The only face I see has blond hair, green eyes and a sunshine smile.
"Here, Boss, you've got a package," Harmony says as she hands me a thickly padded envelope.
I take the manila package warily. My history with packages and Wolfram and Hart is not good. First there was Spike, like I wouldn't want to not open that one if I could re-do it. Then there was the corporalazation of Spike, again something I would undo. And the tomb that brought Illyria was just the latest debacle in the arrival of packages at Wolfram and Hart.
I turn the package over in my hands. It's relatively small. I glance doubtfully at the return address on it. It's from Rome. Buffy didn't mention mailing me anything. I tear open the package quickly and jump back. A smallish, worn leather box falls out on the carpet. It looks old and that makes me more suspicious. Buffy usually isn't into old things. She's more likely send me some kind of new fangled something or the other. I pick the box up and open it. A smile comes to my face unbidden. It's an old compass, the kind a ship's captain might have carried in his pocket. I unfold the note stuck in there and read it softly. I take a deep breath, it smells like vanilla and sunshine and strength. It smells like Buffy.
Angel,
I saw this in an antique store near the coliseum. I wanted you to have it, in case you lose your way you can always find it again.
Always,
B.
Her handwriting is still the loopy, little girlish penmanship I remember from my Sunnydale days. It's comforting to know the child/woman I fell in love with remains, even if she is more woman then child now. I re- fold the note and tuck it up inside the lid of the compass. It is as precious a gift as the compass is.
I start to pick up the phone to call Buffy and thank her. I put it down. I don't know what I'm going to say to her. I don't know how to tell her about the time warping. I certainly can't tell her I technically got staked and dusted. She'd panic and come to Los Angeles, ok so maybe not seeing such a bad side to this. No she'd panic and come to LA and kill Illyria for even attempting to dust me. As it is, I've still got a nice impalement wound in my gut from the battle that wasn't time warped and further more I got it saving Spike of all people.
I also can't exactly tell her that I'm letting a demon horde take a baby so that they can sacrifice it in thirteen years. It's not as if I intend on letting them keep the baby, I'll go back and get it after the apocalypse is adverted, but I don't know that Buffy will understand that. She'll look at it as Evil Inc. corrupting me and they aren't, not anymore. Illyria opened my eyes. She told me that the way to win a war was to serve nothing but your own ambition. My ambition is saving the world. I can't let a single being keep me from saving millions, from saving Connor, from saving Buffy. Those are the faces I kept firmly in front of me when I told the mother to be that she had made a binding agreement, the baby belonged to the Brethren.
I pick the phone back up. I need to thank her for the gift. It's one more thing to hang onto when I think my entire world is falling apart and I need to hear her voice. She's part of what I'm trying to save here. I know if there is an apocalypse she will suffer the fate of all mortals, only sooner. I wouldn't survive another one of Buffy's deaths. Two are more then enough.
"Hello," she answers.
"Buffy," I smile into the phone at the sound of her voice. I meant to say Hello, Buffy. Her name was the only thing that came out. It always happens that way.
"Angel," she smiles.
"I got your gift. Thank you," I say.
"You're more then welcome. I saw it and I thought maybe you would like it. Dawn thought I was losing my mind. She said she was pretty sure you could tell where North was. She didn't get the point. I mean that's not why I sent it to you, I know you can tell North. You can probably smell North," she says.
I chuckle. "I get the point and it's very much appreciated."
"I'm glad. How are things there?"
"I got Gunn back. Illyria, she's the demon who took over Fred's body, went and got him back," I say.
"That's great. He's okay then?" Buffy asks.
"Yeah, he's dealing with it. He's still feeling a lot of guilt over the deal with Fred and he's dealing with having his heart cut out every day, but he's going to be okay," I say.
"Good. Coming back can be tough. I'm glad he's handling it," Buffy says.
"How's Rome?" I ask.
"It's good. I'm going out tonight with some of the girls from my Italian class. It's going to be kind of nice. I don't know when the last time I went out dancing just for fun and didn't have to worry about vampires or demons or other hairy scaries," she says.
I gulp convulsively. She's going out to a club dancing where there will be other men to watch her. I take a deep breath and try to banish images of Buffy dancing with other men the way she danced with Xander in the Bronze that one night so many years ago. I had told her then that I wasn't jealous. Who the hell am I kidding? Five years later I'm still jealous of him over that one little dance. "That's-uh-that's good," I manage to choke out.
Buffy laughs. The sound sends delicious shivers up and down my spine. "Angel, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm-uh-got something caught in my throat," I try to lie.
"You don't eat," she says.
"No, it's good that you're going out, having fun, having a normal life," I say and it's true, that doesn't mean I like it.
"It is. It's integral to the baking process, sort of like flour or eggs or chocolate chips," Buffy says.
"You can make cookies without chocolate chips, Buffy," I say.
"Not my cookies," she teases.
"Just know, you can always come home," I say softly.
"I know and I will. I've gotta go. The girls are going to be here in a little while," she says.
"Alright, and Buffy, have fun," I say.
"I will and I'll call you later," she says as she hangs up.
I hang up the phone and stand before the window. The world I'm trying to save spreads before me. The only face I see has blond hair, green eyes and a sunshine smile.