Chapter 13 – Los Angeles, 8 June 2004

I stayed away from Angel for a few days. I know I shouldn't have, but last time I saw him, I felt cut in two. The part of me that I know, that I think of as being me, was annoyed at him, convinced he was being stupidly childish. On the other hand, the part of me that I thought had long gone, the part of me that'll always be sixteen, remembered Angel from when he was someone I could rely on for anything, someone who made me feel safe in a world populated by monsters. I thought that part of me had died at the hands of Angelus, but it seems it was only hidden, waiting to be resurrected by the feeling of being needed by him in turn. He does need me; I know that. But he thinks he needs me as a partner, while I don't think that's right for us now, or, maybe, ever. He's part of my life and always will be, and if he needs me, then I'm going to be there for him for as long as I'm able. I just need to be strong, and not allow myself to be dragged into something that's liable to end in tears. It makes me feel silly and immature that I didn't go back the next day and sort things out with him, but there were some things to do at the office, and then we had a report from Giles of something that needed investigation. The Coven is still, apparently, turning up Slayers occasionally. While doing whatever they do to find them, they spotted something odd over in Orange County, and Giles wanted me to do an initial investigation.

What the coven spotted was an anomaly in the force or some such idea, and let me just say that I really don't appreciate the Star Wars metaphor at all. I suspect Giles has been spending too much time with Andrew. Anyway, they couldn't explain what it was, talking about a negative energy. I thought that meant some sort of bad energy, but that wasn't it at all. It's as if the whole world has this background energy level, and then there are hotspots – areas of higher energy. The Hellmouth was one hotspot, full of bad energy; the area around the Coven is another except that energy is somehow healthier. The sort of energy, good or bad, isn't important for this analogy, and the place they identified had an energy level lower than background.

What I found was a perfectly normal-seeming residential area with homes and schools and businesses and nothing out of the ordinary in terms of police reports or anything else I could spot. Of course, the area did have a lot of money around, but it's not exactly unique in that respect. I spent a day there, just looking around, checking out the local area, then hit the cemeteries last night, but all I found were a few bedraggled vamps that I dispatched without breaking sweat.

And now, I'm up to date on paperwork, and I've reported what I didn't find to Giles, and he's going keep the area monitored. And I've run out of excuses not to check in on Angel, so I head round to the hotel. I thought about calling, but after the way I found him last time, I decided to just turn up, take him by surprise, and if he's out on a job, then, I'll have had a wasted journey.

I call out from the front door, and Angel emerges from his office. He smiles and looks pleased to see me which is good. At least he's not bearing a grudge. He invites me into the office, and there, spread out on his desk is a large tome, so it looks like he's working.

"How's business?" I ask.

"Slow," he says, with a slightly crooked smile. "Seems some of the old clients wanted to do business with a vampire, but they're not sure what a common or garden human can do for them."

"It'll pick up. It might take a while, but there're enough demons in this city that your kind of service will always be needed."

"It'd pick up a whole lot sooner if I had a Slayer on the books, officially. Telling them I can bring a Slayer onto the case isn't the same."

"Angel," I start, convinced that he's going to force the subject again.

"It's ok, Buffy. I … understand. You're not baked yet, or whatever."

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. "It's been a difficult time, Angel. Right now, I don't know what I want, but I can always use friends – especially friends who know how my life works."

He looks away for a moment, then turns back to me. "If that's what you want, then I'll give it a go. I don't remember who said it, but I do remember someone telling us we'd never be friends."

I remember that too, but I know who said it.

"Wait a minute," Angel adds a moment later. "It was Spike who said that, wasn't it. So maybe it wasn't so important."

I decide to ignore the snide comment. When Spike said that, he was actually pretty much right. Angel and I weren't friends then, but time and circumstances have changed both of us so that now, I think we've got a shot at it.

"So, what's been happening?" I ask, settling into a chair opposite him.

"Professionally? Nothing. When I said business was slow, I really meant stopped. But, in other news, I got the results of the tests the doctor did."

"Everything ok?" I ask. I look again at his face, and it's paler than it should be given his otherwise dark colouring, and it's more than just lack-of-sunshine pale.

"Oh, nothing to worry about," he says, but it's obvious there's a 'but' coming, so I keep quiet, letting him continue.

"It's just, ... you know I had a few drinks the other night? Well, according to the doctor, that must've been a regular occurrence, and I'm going to have to lay off the booze."

"But … how?"

"You see, Buffy, near as I can tell, this being human thing is …, it's as though time's been turned back. The body I had when I died is what I've got now. It's probably not obvious, but I've lost muscle bulk. And … er, before I died, I liked a drink. I've been researching the Shanshu prophecy, trying to make sense of what Wes had, along with what I remember from Wolfram and Hart records."

I ignore the researching bit. Whatever's the reason for his current situation, the priority's how he deals with it, rather than what caused it.

"So you've got to lay off drinking. You can do that, right?"

"I want to, I really do. I just don't know. I thought the Shanshu was a reward. You know? Here it is, a clean slate. Instead, what's happened is I've been sent right back to the start. I'm going to have to do it all again - pull my body back into shape, get on with a new life, start all over again. And the worst part is, I'm alone."

I'm about to protest, but he holds up a hand.

"Wait, Buffy, let me finish. I've only ever been alone once, and then there was you, and you pulled me out of that and gave me a purpose. When I was human, I always had friends who'd help me spend my da's money. And we spent it - on drink and … other things. When I met Darla, she changed me, but not as much as you'd think. Truth is, as a human, I was everything my father told me I was. I was a drunk, a wastrel. As Angelus, I had power, and I used that power to cause pain, and I revelled in it. But, same as the drinking, I went too far, killed a gypsy girl, and got myself cursed with a soul as a result. I spent years living in the gutter, eating rats, trying to cope with the guilt. And I'd still be there if it hadn't been for you. I saw you, a child, given this huge responsibility, and I had to help. I had to be there for you, and you gave me purpose. Once I was on that path, I didn't need you to keep me on it, but without you, I'd never have found it."

"It wasn't …" But again he holds up a hand.

"Let me finish. Please. This … isn't easy. I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few days, wondering if you'd gone back to Rome, so disgusted with me that I'd never see you again. I need to finish this. Now, where was I? Yes, so, when I came to LA, I already knew what I needed to do, and I started the agency, and Cordy and Doyle, and later Gunn and Wes and Fred and Lorne, they came and we were a team. It was good, you know? But they're all dead now. Except Gunn and Lorne. Lorne told me, before the battle, that I wouldn't see him again. And Gunn? I think something died in him that night too. Maybe he'll find it again and come back, but then again, maybe he won't. So, what've I got left? Well, I thought I had you. I thought that with the whole 'being alive' thing, I'd finally be worthy of you, and then, well, now I know, I remember, that I'm not worthy of you. Never was. If you'd known me when I was alive before? You'd have turned away from me. I wasn't worthy of you then, and I'm not now. Maybe, maybe I can be, some day, but …"

He stops then, and I think maybe he's looking for a response from me.

"Angel, you're not alone. I'm here, and I'm a friend. I'll help you with … "

"I don't know if that's enough. I'll try to make it enough, but …"

I'm desperately thinking of something to say, something to give him the hope that he seems lacking in just now, and then I remember.

"Who's the woman in the picture?" I ask.

"What picture?"

"When I came in here to get you some painkillers the other day, you said to look in the top drawer. I did, but," I point at the desk, "two top drawers. The one that didn't have the painkillers had a photograph. I just wondered who she was."

He reaches out and opens the drawer, removing the photo. He looks at it for a moment, then shakes his head.

"I'm no good to her now either."

"Why? Why would you be no good to her now? Who is she?"

"Nina. I failed her the last time. I heard her scream, ran as fast as I could, but I was too late. She was bitten by a werewolf."

"Oh," I answer, wondering why he's got a photo of her if he thinks he failed her.

"She was coming to Wolfram and Hart every month so we could lock her up during the three nights of the full moon. She … and I …"

"You were lovers."

"Yeah."

"When was this? Recently?"

"This last year. I sent her and her family away when I knew the apocalypse was coming."

"How did she feel about that?"

"She didn't want to go. She didn't understand, but … her sister has a little girl. I had to get them away."

"And now the apocalypse is over, where are they?"

"I assume they've come back."

"And?"

"And I'm useless to her now."

"What about the full moon? How long till the next one? Where's she going to go?"

He gets up and checks out the calendar.

"Next week. The full moon's next week."

"So what're you going to do about it?"

"Me? What can I do?"

"You understand. You know she's not imagining getting hairy every month. She needs someone who understands what she's dealing with."

"She needs a hero."

"Maybe she did, at first, but it sounds like, in the end, she needed a man."

He laughs then, one of those mirthless laughs that chills rather than warms the spirits.

"What, Angel?"

"If she needs a man, she doesn't need me."

"Maybe she'd rather have a man than a vampire."

"Maybe she wouldn't."

"And maybe you should give her the choice."

"I can't, Buffy."

"Why not? Why can't you get in touch with her, offer to help her through the full moon? Why can't you give her the chance to see if she wouldn't rather date a man than a vampire?"

"Because I can't, Buffy. Don't you see?" His voice is louder, almost shouting, and his tone is full of self-loathing.

"No I don't see," I answer, the volume of my own voice higher now.

"I told you. I spent my money on drink and … other things. I spent money on whores, and … I caught something."

"Ah," I answer, just so he knows I heard while I think about where to go from there. "But the doctor spotted it, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"And it's being treated, yes?"

"Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

"Well, it'll be a while before … and what do I tell her if she wants to … resume the physical side of our relationship?"

"Well, what you tell her is up to you, but the truth might be a good idea. She already knows you were Angelus, right? If she can deal with that, then maybe she can deal with the rest. Talk to your doctor, see what he suggests about the … practicalities."

"Maybe," he answers.

"And in the meantime, she needs you. Maybe even more than I did. What's she going to do next week?"

Reminding him yet again of the full moon seems to do the trick. He straightens his posture before saying, "You're right, Buffy. I can help with that. You remember when Willow had to come to LA before you defeated the First?"

"Yeah. You needed your soul back. She told me eventually."

"Well, we had a cage built for me, er him. It's still down in the basement. I could get that set up for her … in case she hasn't found something else."

"Yeah, because secure cages for werewolves are such a common commodity these days."

He actually smiles at that.

"Look, Angel, you've got a call to make. I think I'll go back and argue with Neville about how to make a cup of tea. I know exactly how to do it, but it's so much fun to wind him up. Call me and let me know what's happening. I'd like to meet Nina too, if that's ok."

"I'll ask her, if …"

"It's not easy, Angel. Sometimes the things you've done in the past … are just so hard to face, to accept, but … maybe this is the first step to putting yourself back on track."

I get up then, and Angel stands too. Instinctively, he comes around to my side of the desk, his arms raised for a hug, and then he drops them in such a pathetic gesture that I have no choice but to open my arms for a hug. And this time, it's a good hug - a friends' hug.

As I leave the office, I hear him dialling, but I'm not thinking about Angel or Nina or anything about them. I'm thinking about the things I've done that I regret, and first among all of those, I remember a night I destroyed the face of a man because he loved me and didn't want me to throw my life away. We've all got regrets. I just wish I'd had a real chance to show Spike how sorry I was about that.