Three.
August 7, 1941.
Angel leans over his radio console, ears tuned for any activity aside from the normal Military communications. Having been on duty now for almost twelve hours, he's a little beyond exhausted.
But tonight it doesn't matter how tired he is. He could be existing on four minutes of sleep and he wouldn't care.
Tonight he gets to see Buffy.
She's promised to meet him after her rounds at the city park pier at 11. She's assured him her Watcher will have long been in bed by that point, and it will be easy to tell her family she's staying with her best friend, another nursing student named Willow Rosenberg.
After their initial meetings, Buffy's been a little hesitant to see him again. She has refused point blank to say anything about her Watcher, Quentin Travers, or too many details about her patrol schedule.
But Angel has an in; and today he's received some of the information he'd asked for a week ago.
It helps to be in a Watcher's family.
His father had graciously if somewhat reluctantly told him where to go to find the local branch of the council. The head of the locals, a Holly Potter, had greeted him kindly and shown him around the offices. She had been a bit tentative to answer some of his questions, but had given him some basic information about the current Slayer and her Watcher.
Buffy has been active for five years; Travers had been sent from London to take charge of her when she had been called. Her family knew nothing of her legacy; she unfortunately had to be gathered up by Travers and told what her destiny held for her. Needless to say it wasn't easy.
When her father and brother had been killed, the council had given her the opportunity to take a respite, and offered a journey to London for a month to study at the councils' headquarters. She had refused, citing the importance of her work in Oahu. The presence at the time of a local master vampire was the reason, but Buffy had made short work of him, slaughtering him and his fold singlehandedly within the two weeks after the accident that claimed the lives of her family members.
In the three years since then, Buffy had cut a swath through the local vampire population, destroying no less than fifteen nests, and killing her fair share of demon lords and monsters.
Ms. Potter had then shown Angel the library, and offered him some tea, making him blush while praising his family's involvement in the 'good fight.'
"Honestly, I haven't been involved since I was a child," he had told her. "I've been with the Navy for so long, I haven't had much chance to help my father in his work since I was a teen."
She nodded, and had stood, leading him toward the front door.
"Well, Lt. O'Connell, it was a pleasure meeting you, and please feel free to visit our branch anytime. You are of course welcome to use of the library, being part of the organization, naturally," she had told him, and he shook her hand before putting his cap back on his head.
"Thank you for your time, and I may take you up on that."
He had left feeling less than informed, and was determined to discover as much as he could about the local branch and Quentin Travers.
That afternoon his luck had held out, and the file he had requested had arrived.
He had taken it outside, and had read it while sitting on the steps of the Communications building.
Elizabeth "Buffy" Summers.
Born June 21st, 1920 to Roger and Lilly Summers, in the base hospital here in Pearl Harbor.
The family was a nomadic one, having been to many places and ports by the time by Buffy was born. Her father had latched onto a good job by that point, working on private planes and running his own charter service, and the Summers' had decided to make a stable home for their little family.
As the kids had grown up, little Buffy had proven to be as adept at sports and games as her brothers, and her father had doted on her, teaching her everything he could about their world and how to respect it. In turn, she had idolized him, and it was no surprise that she had devestated when he had been killed.
The brothers, Micah and Daniel, were typical boys, both excelling in baseball and track, and had been constant competitors until Micah had decided to follow in his father's footsteps and learn the family business. Daniel had been absolutely bored with aviation, and had decided that weapons and tactics were his bag after signing up for basic training in the Army.
Buffy's mother, Lilly, was from Texas originally, and had made a comfortable and stable home for her family, taking a job teaching first grade when Buffy had reached the age of six.
At fifteen, Buffy had been called.
She hadn't known what was happening; she had only known that things in her world had changed dramatically, and had begun noticing differences that she had glossed over before.
She had become stronger, faster, more able to endure things, and very quick to heal. Quentin Travers had approached her at school one afternoon as she sat on the steps, gabbing with her friends and sucking on a lollypop.
She had been quite adament at first at denying everything, but after being shown her first vampire and realizing how fast and how instinctively she had killed it, was reluctantly drawn into training.
She had made the decision not to tell her family on the urging of Travers; he had impressed upon her just how dangerous it would be for them to know anything of her nocturnal activities.
The rest of the report detailed the kills counts, and what advances she had made in her studies of Slayer history and Council law.
She was, for all intents and purposes, a perfect Slayer.
Angel had frowned when he had finished reading; the information was interesting, but not as detailed as he had hoped. Who exactly was Quentin Travers? And Buffy's father and brother getting killed…he had his doubts that it was an accident. Deaths in the family of a Watcher or Slayer were seldom coincidental.
Angel looks up from his console, and drops the earphones around his neck. He leans back in his not so comfortable chair, and his back pops, the staccato noise reminiscent of machine gun fire.
Thinking of artilary, he wonders what Wesley is doing, and how the hell he's going to sneak past his friend without having to give him too many sordid details of Buffy's past, and why he's going to meet a girl so late at night.
Pulling his log book to him, he fills out the relevant entry, and stands, hanging his earphones back over the unit and grabbing his jacket and hat.
*
Walking across the base, the legs of Angel's pants pick up some late evening dew off the grass he's traversing.
He checks his watch, and starts to hustle, not wanting to be later than he's already going to be.
Entering the house, he lets the door slam, throwing his coat and hat over the kitchen table, and yells out for Wes.
No answer. He trots up the stairs to their rooms, and knocks on Wes' door. He cracks it open, and sighs in relief at the sight of the empty, dark room. No explanations tonight.
Shedding his uniform quickly, he pulls on a comfortable pair of khaki slacks and a sleeveless undershirt. He roots through the small closet, coming up with a dark wine colored shirt, apparently the only thing that's been ironed. Grumbling, he pulls it on, jams shoes on his feet, and crosses the small hallway to the bathroom.
While brushing his teeth with one hand, he attempts to comb his hair into some semblance of shape with the other, and after fighting it for a few minutes, he gives up, allowing it to spring up in the front. Damn cowlicks.
He bolts down the stairs and grabs his jacket, putting it on as he locks the door behind him.
*
Finding the main pier isn't hard. What's hard is seeing Buffy standing at the edge of the pier, talking to a tall blond man Angel's never seen before. His hackles rise and he makes a beeline for her.
"Buffy- Hi," he says, reaching her side. She looks up at him and smiles, and he immediately feels a little better.
"Hi, Angel. Glad you could make it," she tells him, and he grimmaces.
"Sorry about that. I got caught up at the office," he says, and she waves a hand at him.
"It's fine. Actually, Riley here was keeping me company until you arrived."
She gestures to the blond man, and Angel puts out his hand.
"Lieutenant John O'Connell," he says, and the other man puts out his own hand, saying, "Riley Finn. You're the friend of Buffy's she's been talking about."
Angel smiles, and replies. "All good, I hope."
Finn nods, and laughs, putting his hand on Buffy's shoulder. Angel bristles inwardly, but plasters on a polite smile.
"Oh of course. Any military friends are highly regarded. Her brother is in the Army here as well."
"Daniel? Yes, we've met."
"Ah. He's a good guy; we go way back. The Summers' kids and I went to school together growing up. Daniel used to date my sister, Jenny, but unfortunately, that didn't pan out. I keep trying to get Buffy here to go out with me, but she tells me I'm too much of a brother to her. So I keep close tabs on her anyway- wouldn't want the lovely girl to get hurt, now would I?"
Buffy giggles, and punches Riley in the arm lightly. "You know I can take care of myself, Ri. I'm good, okay? You can go home now."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mother I'll bring those peach preserves my Uncle canned for her," he says, bending toward her, and pecking her on the cheek. Buffy squeezes his hand, and waves as he walks off.
"Oh, O'Connell?" Riley calls. Angel cocks an eyebrow at him.
"You take care of our Buffy. She's an important person," he says, and winks.
Angel has the feeling that the wink was not exactly intended for him.
She turns to him, and smiles. "How are you?"
"Fine. Tired. Where are we going?" he snaps, a little more harshly than he had intended.
"Well, for a walk, General Grumpy, if that's all right with you," she says, putting her hands on her hips.
He frowns at her, and crosses his arms across his chest.
"Possessive much?" she quips, and touches his hand lightly with her fingers. "He's a family friend. I've known the Finn's since I was in diapers. They've always been close with us. Riley worked with my father for as long I could remember. He's sort of taken over the business now that's dad's…since there's no one to run it."
"He's a pilot?" Angel asks.
"Yes. And a damn good one, I might add. He should be- he learned from the best," she sighs, and tugs on his arm. "Come on, I want to see the moon on the water."
*
The moon does indeed sparkle on the waves, but Angel's having a hard concentrating on it. He's not sure whether he should tell her just how much he's learned about her past, and he definitely doesn't want to tell her how he learned it.
"You're awfully quiet," she says softly, their hands swinging between them.
"Sorry. Thinking."
"Are you going Cro-Magnon on me?" she teases, and the corner of his mouth raises in a half smile, but drops quickly.
"What's wrong, Angel?" she asks gently, and turns him toward her.
He looks over her head, not willing to meet her eyes just yet. If he does, he knows he'll be lost in her, and he's not ready to drop the murderous thoughts of Riley Finn hanging from a hook for touching her.
"Nothing. I swear," he tells her when she snorts at him. "Just a long shift today."
"I noticed you have marks over your ears," she says, touching a fingertip to his head.
He claps a hand over his ear, and curses when he finds an indention in the skin there. "Damn headphones."
She laughs and pulls her head toward her. "Let me fix it."
Her lips touch him briefly on each temple, and he closes his eyes, happy for the contact.
"Better?" she whispers huskily.
"You have no idea," he tells her. His arms go around her back, and she snuggles into his chest.
Laying his cheek on her hair, he finally looks at the water, and is struck again by just how beautiful the place really is.
"How heavy is the vampire activity here anyway?" he asks suddenly.
She pouts, pulling away from him.
"Way to kill the mood, buddy." She sits on the hard packed sand beneath their feet. He follows suit.
"I'm just curious," he says. "I guess it's the Watcher in me."
She glances at him, and replies. "Not too heavy at the moment. Having gotten rid of the major player a few years ago, no one master has ever taken the chance to try to live in Oahu again. I guess that's a good thing…it gives me time to actually go to school. To try and make something of my life, such as it is," she finishes, a look of wistfullness on her face.
He nods. "I understand that the life of a Slayer can be…hectic at best." She grins, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"You could say that," she says.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," he states after a few minutes of silence.
"What for?" she answers quizzically.
"I didn't mean to bring it up if you didn't want to talk about it."
She leans into him, and nudges him with her shoulder. "It's okay. I know it's been a while since you had any supernatural freak world contact; it's bound to be interesting at first."
"It is. I can't help it sometimes. And to be honest, the world of the Navy right now isn't exactly that thrilling."
She touches her fingers to his temples once again. "I can see you've been doing a lot of…listening…which I guess equates with a lot of sitting. That can sometimes be really boring."
"It is. I half way hope sometimes that things will pick up just to give us something to do. I know that's a horrible thing to think," he adds, "but I can't help it."
He draws in the sand with a stick, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.
"So, tell me what you do like about the Navy," she says quietly.
"You sure? It's not that exciting of a story," he replies.
"Tell me. Anything about you is interesting to me."
He quirks a half smile at her, and stares at the water.
"My home life was something I really wanted to get away from, especially as a teen," he starts. "I joined the services like I told you really because of my brother. I enjoyed college, but I wasn't sure I wanted to stay in my field, so when I graduated I joined up about three weeks after coming back home."
"Where'd you go to school?"
"The University of Texas at Austin," he says, and she starts. "Really? Boy, that's different than Ohio."
"Yeah, that was the idea," he laughs, and she smiles with him.
"You studied what? Farming?"
He laughs loudly at that. "Oh, god, no. Had I gone that differently from the family business I think my father might have disowned me. English and Communications. I was going to go into broadcasting before Xander got me all bothered to join the Navy."
She begins to answer him, when the roar of a plane drowns out her voice. "I thought they didn't practice at night," she yells over the noise.
"They don't, normally," he answers. "Sometimes night drills occur when the instructors wanna really punish the students."
"Let's go watch," she shouts, and pulls him up by the hand.
*
The next afternoon, Angel's sitting at his console, reading the long feed of information that had just come over the ticker tape, when his CO enters the small room.
Standing quickly at attention, he relaxes at Rayne's word of "At ease, O'Connell."
"What can I do for you, sir?" Angel asks.
The man stares at him for a moment, and gestures for Angel to have a seat. Puzzled, he complies.
"Sir? Is everything all right?"
"This arrived for you this morning, Lieutenant," Rayne says, and hands over a small yellow piece of paper, with the words Western Union written on the outside.
"I'll be outside if you need anything," the Captain says, and Angel watches dumbfoundedly as he walks out of the office and down the stairs outside.
Opening the telegram with suddenly shaking hands, Angel gapes at the words, which blur and shift before him.
The sentence that stands out is a short one.
Alexander O'Connell. Killed in Active Duty, August 2nd, 1941. Walker AFB, Hamburg, Germany.
TBC.