Chapter 16

Eavesdropping had been wrong. Buffy knew it was. It had seemed impossible to do otherwise, though. She'd woken up alone in a strange, darkened room on the second floor of what she was guessing was Angel's house. So after some debate, she'd decided to find Angel.

The previous few hours were little more than a blur in her mind. She remembered going home and then...well, she'd never forget what her father had said to her, told her. But after that, things were kind of hazy. She knew somehow she had ended up back at Angel's. And she had a vague memory of him calling her name. It wasn't clear, but she figured Angel must have taken inside and put her in the bed she had woken up in.

Embarrassment had flushed her cheeks when she realized that. What must he think of her? He would probably just think she was crazy like everyone else did. She had to talk to him, though. She'd told herself she would find him and apologize for falling apart and imposing on him. And then...she didn't know what she would do after that. Going home was what she had to do. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to face her father, her house, and her third floor prison. Maybe, just maybe, she could ask Angel if she could stay here for a little while.

With that thought in mind, Buffy had wondered around the second floor in search of Angel. It was late, and she figured he would probably be asleep, but when she had searched every room, and come across what looked like his bedroom, she had yet to find him. Thinking that he must been on the first floor, she had descended the sturdy mahogany stairs intent on finding him.

The moment she'd reached the last stair, she had heard the hushed voices coming from the direction of the living room. At least she had thought it was the living room. She had only been inside the house a few times though. Regardless, the sound of voices had been unmistakable.

Racked with indecision, Buffy had contemplated going back upstairs, or on second thought, leaving. The sudden worry had popped into her head that maybe Angel had a girlfriend and he was in the other room with her. Her hand had gripped the banister in a death clutch at the very idea of Angel being with some woman. She hadn't wanted to think about that, or why it bothered her so.

Instead she had crept toward to doorway through which the voices were coming. They grew louder, but still hard to hear. So she had inched closer, pressing herself against the wall, all the while chastising herself for invading Angel's privacy.

"...can't really be counted. Other than that, was Buffy ever violent?" she had suddenly heard clearly enough to make her jolt to a stop.

She had known it was Angel that had spoken, she recognized his voice. Just as she had recognized Spike's resounding 'no' that had followed. They were talking about her – Angel, Spike...and possibly others. But why? Needing to know, to understand, Buffy had gotten as close to the doorway as possible, and had listened to each and every word they said.

Emotions had whirled inside her when she realized what they were talking about. A bone deep hurt had settled inside her at the memory of the deaths her mother, brother, and sister. And then confusion, fear, and anger when she thought about that night, what had happened afterwards, and what her father had told her just hours before.

Everyone thought she had killed her family. A murderer. They thought she was a murderer. But...but...she shook her head, forcing the thoughts away and focused back on the conversation going on in the other room. The conversation about her, about her family.

She'd had to fight back a gasp when it had become clear that discussion wasn't just about her family's deaths, but her role in it, or rather, the role Angel seemed to be saying she couldn't have had. Tears welled in her eyes. Angel thought she was innocent. He believed in her and he hardly knew her.

How she had ended up moving to stand in the doorway, Buffy wasn't quite sure, but suddenly she was there, and everybody in the room was staring at her. She was vaguely aware that Spike, Willow, and Xander were seated on the couch and chair, but her eyes were on Angel. Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking at her sides.

Stepping closer to him, she said, "I didn't kill them." It was a statement. And maybe a question.

"No, you didn't," Angel replied softly. He didn't have one hundred percent proof of that, but he was as sure of it as he was of anything. There was just no possible way Buffy could have killed her family. The facts supported that belief, but it was his gut that told him it was truth.

A single tear trickled down Buffy's cheek and her shoulders slumped. Just having Angel's support and belief in her loosened something inside her. Ever since the argument with her father earlier, dread had pooled in her stomach and swirled inside her head. Now it was gone. Almost.

Angel stood, lifting his hand to knuckle away the tear that clung to her soft cheek. He frowned slightly at her. "You didn't think you did, did you?"

Buffy tilted her head, averted her eyes. She didn't want to admit to him that after her father's harsh words, she had wondered if she could have done what everyone believed her guilty of. If Angel knew she had entertained the thought, he would certainly reconsider his position on her innocence. No, she couldn't tell him. But he wasn't going to let the subject drop.

"Buffy," he pressed, and used his hand to lift her chin. "You don't have to hide anything from me."

Staring into Angel's deep brown eyes, Buffy knew he meant it. A few feet away, Willow, Spike and Xander watched the interaction with varying degrees of interest. If any of them had been asked, they would have said neither Buffy or Angel were aware of their presences at the moment. They were conscious of only each other.

"I didn't know," Buffy finally whispered. "Before...before tonight, I just knew they were dead. And then...," she trailed off and took a deep breath. "After he told me about everything, I didn't know what to think.

Angel frowned again. That wasn't exactly the answer he had expected. How could she not know if she had committed murder? That was kind of a big deal. She should have known what happened.

He reached down and took one of her hands. "Here," he said and lightly tugged her toward the chair he had been sitting in. "Sit down."

Obliging, Buffy sat in the chair. Her eyes wandered toward the couch and she became fully cognizant once again of the fact that Angel wasn't the only one in the room. She quickly looked away as fear of what they thought of her filled her mind. Did they think she was a murderer like everyone else? She tried to tell herself they wouldn't. They had been her best friends, but still...then she remembered the conversation she had heard between them and Angel.

Willow solved the problem by speaking up for herself and the others. "Buffy, we know you didn't do it. We always knew."

She let out a heavy breath, but still kept her eyes trained on her hands. They said she hadn't done it – Angel said she hadn't done it, but there was still a niggling doubt in her mind. How did she know if she had killed her mother, her sister and her brother? The answer was simple: she didn't know.

Angel dragged a stool over in front of the chair and sat. He glanced at group seated on the other side of the room, his concern for Buffy obvious. Despite the fact that they had voiced their support, it was Buffy who seemed to have her doubts. And that was hard for him to understand.

For a long, silent minute, Angel contemplated what he should say to her. He wanted to erase whatever was causing her disbelief. But what could he say? Several avenues circled in his head, but none seemed viable. Instead, he settled for the one question that he felt needed to be asked.

"Buffy," he began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Why don't you tell us what you remember about that night? Maybe it would help us to understand it better."

No answer came for several long seconds. Angel was beginning to think that Buffy had either not heard the question, or had no intention of answering. But, finally, after a few nervous twitches of her clenched hands, Buffy spoke.

"I don't," she paused, cleared her throat. "I don't really remember much."

Angel patted her knee gently in reassurance. "Just tell us anything you can remember."

"Okay," she nodded, still twisting her fingers together. "We...we were all in the family room – Mom, Dawn, Owen and me. It was movie night. Once a week we would all watch a couple of movies together," she clarified for Angel's sake. "Dawn and Owen were arguing over what movie we were going to watch first..."

Buffy's eyes glazed over slightly as her mind drifted back to that fateful night.

"Come on, Owen!" Dawn whined and playfully slapped at her brother's arm. "We watched your movie first last week!"

"So?" Owen replied with a grunt and pushed his annoying little sister's hand away.

"You're not being fair!" She crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"Don't be a baby," he chided and rolled his eyes. "My movie is better anyway."

"Is not!" Dawn disagreed. "Mine is sooo much better, and we're watching it first!"

"No, we're watching mine first," Buffy interjected with a smirk. When both of her siblings opened their mouths to disagree, she added, "I'm the oldest, so I get to pick."

"That's so not fair," Dawn whined and eyed Buffy in annoyance.

"Your point?" Buffy asked, rising off the sofa to pop her tape into the VCR.

"Ugh," Owen groaned. "A chick flick."

Buffy ignored his complaint and pushed her tape into the VCR. She turned, faced her glaring brother. "For your information-."

"I can see we're starting off as usual," Joyce interrupted, walking into the room with a tray in her hands. She shook her head at her children. They could never agree on anything.

"Ooooh! Ice cream!" Dawn cheered happily while snagging a bowl off the tray her mother carried. She looked down at the bowl and frowned. "Mint chocolate chip? Who picked that?"

Joyce glanced at the bowls full of green mint ice cream speckled with brown chocolate chips. Her brow furrowed for a moment in consideration. "I think it must have been your father."

Dawn opened her mouth to reply, but Buffy cut her off. "Where is Dad anyway?"

Setting the tray down on the coffee table, Joyce took a bowl for herself and plopped down onto one of the cushioned chairs in front of the television. "He should be here soon," she answered, checked her watch and saw that it was a little past five p.m.

"He's usually home by now," Owen said over a mouth full of ice cream.

"It's Friday, he probably got caught in traffic," Joyce assumed while spooning up her own dessert. "He would have called if he was going to be late. I'm sure he won't mind if we start the first movie, though."

Buffy set down her spoon and grabbed the remote control. She pressed play, then tossed the remote down beside her on the couch. After a few moments, the open credits began to roll by.

"You picked The Matrix? Cool!" Owen contentedly settled down to watch one of his favorite action movies.

"Hey, Keanu's cute," Buffy said as Dawn giggled next to her on the couch.

Joyce bit back a chuckle, all the while feeling a bit of relief at Buffy's carefree attitude. Her daughter was doing better. She smiled a bit more these days, even if she mostly refused to go outside of the house except for her walks on the beach. Soon, maybe things would return to normal. Shaking off her thoughts of the past, Joyce settled down to watch the movie with her family, and hoped her husband would get home soon. She missed him every day when he went off to work.

Angel listened attentively, trying to pick up anything in Buffy's story that seemed out of place, but so far, it sounded as though the night had started off normal, harmless. There was nothing to indicate that Buffy had spiraled into a rage, as the reports had vacantly accused. From her description, she'd been happy that night, or at least happier than she'd been in the past. Her relating of the beginning of that night only reinforced Angel's belief that Buffy just could not have done it.

"What happened after that?" he asked, needing to hear the rest in order to be able to do anything to help her.

Buffy frowned, her eyes squinted beneath her lowered brow. She thought back on that night, tried to push the memories forward. But all she came up with was a big blank space. There was just nothing immediately after they had sat down to start watching the movie.

"Buffy?" Angel prodded gently.

"I-I don't know," she confessed, looking up at him with scared eyes. "I can't remember."

"That's okay," he assured her even though it made things difficult. "Tell me what you do remember."

A shudder worked its way through Buffy. She tried to avoid thinking about this part of that night as much as possible. The images were too much to bear. So, over the years, she had forced them out of her mind. But during sleep, they haunted her in dreams tinted red with blood.

"I...I..." She shuddered again, and gratefully grabbed onto Angel's hand when he offered it to her. "I was sitting on the couch. J-just sitting there. On...on the TV, the credits of the movie were showing...and-and I thought that was strange. I started to – to get up...and I saw...I saw." Buffy choked back a sob, pressed a hand to her mouth.

She could clearly remember her eyes landing on Dawn, a few feet away from where she'd been sitting, her body – her bloodied, lifeless body – hanging off the couch. Sheer horror had had her stumbling away from the couch, nearly tripping over Owen's prone form. And then, as she'd struggled toward the door, there had been her mother.

"They were just there," she continued in a shattered whisper. "I-I think I screamed. I don't r-remember anything after that, except," she paused, probing deeper into her mind. "I think Daddy carried me somewhere. I'm not sure."

"You don't remember anything between when the movie started and the end of it?" Angel asked for clarification. That's weird, he said to himself. Almost two hours of time where her memory was blank.

"No," Buffy despaired. There was nothing she remembered from that time period. And that was what scared her.

Angel heard the absolute anguish in her voice and somehow recognized it was from more than just her lack of memory. "What is it, Buffy?"

"What if...," she hesitated, afraid to say her fear out loud. "What if I did it? What if I...I killed them and blocked it out?" There, she'd said it, said what had been circling around her mind since running from her father's house. She could have done it. She could have killed the people who meant the most to her and then blocked it out. It was possible. It had happened to people before.

"No!" Angel refuted defiantly. "Listen to me, Buffy. You didn't do anything wrong!"

"But then why can't I remember?" she asked pleadingly, wishing she could believe him.

Willow stood up, moved toward Buffy. She knelt down in front of her friend, looked her directly in the eyes. "Angel's right," she said in agreement. "You didn't do anything wrong, Buffy."

Before Buffy could deny or question the statement, Angel interrupted. "Let us explain then you'll understand."

He hesitated as Buffy stared up at him expectantly. Yes, he had reasons, valid reasons, as to why he believed in her innocence, but he worried about saying them out loud to her. He didn't know if she would be able to handle frank talk about her family's murders. The things he had discussed with the others weren't exactly PG rated. Yet, he knew if she were to understand and to believe in herself, he would have to give her the full explanation.

So he did. As gently as possible, he relayed what he had talked about with Willow, Xander and Spike. He explained about how unlikely it was that one person, her, could have killed all three people without one getting away, or even being injured. And more so, he mentioned the suspect circumstances of her mother's cause of death.

All the while, Buffy listened stoically. She flinched at the description of how her mother died, but otherwise, she only listened. When Angel finished, she gazed up at him with tear-laden eyes and said, "I don't understand. Why would anyone kill them? They never hurt anyone."

Angel didn't respond. He had his suspicions. Buffy looked to Willow, but she too was silent. When her eyes met Xander's, he quickly looked away. And suddenly she knew what no one was willing to say.

"It was because of me," she whispered. "You think they were killed because of me, because of the ra-...because of what Cameron did to me."

TBC