Chapter 49 - 29 July 2004
I can't get the image out of my mind. Whenever I close my eyes, there's the Claddagh - joined hands and hearts - burned into my skin. My hand goes to that place, between my breasts, as if to make sure that it's not there, that my skin is undamaged. Seeing what he did to her, or the results of what he did to her … I can barely imagine how she suffered. When I think about what Angelus did to me and how much he hurt me, it's impossible to imagine the difference in scale. He killed everyone in her life, he used her body as his plaything, he scarred her, dragged her out of heaven more than once, and yet he didn't destroy her spirit. That's the only point of light in a sea of darkness and pain. Despite everything, when she had her opportunity, she staked him.
I know that Spike and Dawn are hurting - that Moira's death is causing them pain - and I know that I'll miss her too, but somehow, I can't focus on that. My sorrow at her death will come, I'm sure of it, but it's as if my subconscious has decided that I can't deal with it just now, and so it's just not trying. For now, it doesn't seem to matter. Spike's here for me, and I'm here for him and Dawn. What the next few days will bring, I don't know. Well, at some level, I do know. It'll be similar to when Mom died, I assume, with a funeral to be arranged and everything, but there aren't any details at the moment.
It's light outside - the sun rose a while ago, and Spike's snoozing beside me, his head on my shoulder. I haven't slept, what with the visions I get every time I close my eyes, but I know Spike needed to get some rest.
Dawn appears at the door, dressed but looking every bit as tired as before she slept. Her eyes are still red too. She gives me a half-smile, and mimes, asking me if I want something to eat. I nod, not because I'm hungry, but because she needs me more than Spike does at this moment. I slip out from under him as gently as I can and follow her into the kitchen.
I check the time, and realise that it's only half an hour until Giles needs to go to the airport. I know Spike said he'd cover Willow, but it's probably better if he gets some sleep.
"After we've eaten, I need to go and sit with Willow. Want to come?"
"Why? What's happening?"
"Giles is going to meet Gwynneth at the airport. As far as I know, there's been no change, but Willow probably shouldn't be left alone."
"Sure. How's Spike?"
"Upset. I mean, really upset. Not that he's wallowing in it or anything; it's just that he's not good at hiding his feelings."
"Yeah. It's just … not fair. It's all Angel's fault. If it hadn't been for him …"
"Dawn, it doesn't help to hand out blame. I know, there was a time when I wouldn't blame Angel for things Angelus did, and I still think that Angel would be as horrified as we are at what we saw last night, but it wasn't even the same Angel, just like that Buffy wasn't me. There are differences - maybe they're inherent, maybe they're because of different experience, but we don't know that it would have been the same here if Willow hadn't returned Angel's soul or I hadn't sent him to Hell or …"
"I … just don't think I can even bear to look at him. He killed Moira."
"Not directly; that Angelus probably never even heard of Moira."
"Don't try to sound all mature about it. I saw your face when you saw the other Buffy. You're sickened by what he did too."
"Yes, but …"
"But nothing. You deal with him if you want to, but keep him out of my way."
We make some toast and coffee, with enough for Giles too, and go next door. He's in the bathroom when we arrive - I can hear the sound of running water. I leave Dawn to take the food into the kitchen, then call through the door to let him know we're here, and walk into the bedroom to see Willow.
She's lying as she was the last time I saw her. There's no sign of pain or fear or any other emotion on her face - it's completely passive and at rest.
I go into the kitchen, and a moment later, Giles comes in, dressed in trousers and shirt, and still towelling his hair.
"I don't have time to get a change of clothes before I go to the airport, but I thought the least I could do is clean up. I'm not sure what shampoo designed for bleached hair is going to do for me, though."
"Relax, Giles. It'll just be real gentle. Bleaching makes hair dry and it just needs a bit of extra TLC."
"As long as I don't end up looking like Spike's father, I'll survive."
His tone is severe, but there's a levity to his words. I wonder at the reason, as he picks up his coffee and a slice of buttered toast.
"You ok? Not that it's not welcome, but jokes about being Spike's dad are not what I'd expect from you."
"I … I spoke to him last night. The truth is, I've been watching him since I got here. And no, I don't think he's good enough for you, but then, I'm not sure who would be. I might not like the way he does things, but I can't argue that when something needs to be done, he's there, regardless of personal risk. He does love you. I can see that. I've tried to justify his actions with all sorts of less edifying motives, but the only one that really fits is love. Again, he sometimes doesn't show it in an acceptable form, but … I suppose I've been hard on him. Partly because I had these notions of him, and one by one he's proved me wrong. He stuck around. He stayed here, working on getting the Slayers back without knowing you would be coming here. He … impressed Moira, and I can think of few people who succeeded in that - goodness knows I've often been found wanting in that respect. And … last night, when he'd done it, he was the bloody hero of the hour, and he apologised to me for going ahead when Moira wasn't up to it. As if …"
"He apologised? He's feeling guilty?"
"Yes. I told him he had no need. Pointed out that Moira knew what she was doing. That the risk was hers to take, and for someone else to take the blame was to somehow steal her glory. He … seemed to understand."
"Oh."
"And … what he said was exactly what I was thinking. I was feeling the same, guilt that I hadn't stopped her, but when he said that, I realised the truth. There should have been no guilt about you jumping into the vortex to save Dawn, or Spike burning up while closing the Hellmouth. You both knew exactly what you were doing, and you did it for the good of others. What Moira did was the same."
I munch a bit of toast while I think about that.
"Any word from Angel or Gus?"
"Not yet. I expect Gus will be at Fiona's as early as he can, but I don't know about Angel."
"Did you move the body?"
"No, it was collected a couple of hours ago. When I get back from the airport, I need to get on with arranging her funeral. I think Glasgow would be as good as anywhere - it's not like it's her world anyway, and her home … Sunnydale … is at the bottom of a crater."
"Maybe that's what we should do."
"What?"
"Well, if she's cremated, then we could take her ashes and sprinkle them into the crater. At least then she'd be close to our Mom. What do you think, Dawn?"
"Yeah. That feels … right. I think maybe she'd like that."
"It certainly minimises the potential questions as regards her appearance. I'll look into it."
"What about Moira?"
"As I said last night, I can contact her solicitor - he used to deal with aspects of our lease on the office upstairs. If she has a will, or instructions on what to do in the event of her death, I suspect he'd know about it."
"Any family?"
"Not that she ever mentioned."
Giles glances at his watch, and quickly drains his coffee.
"Time I wasn't here. Dawn, do you feel like coming with me? Just for a change of scenery."
Dawn looks surprised, then nods.
"Yeah, I'll come along." She waits until Giles moves away before adding quietly in my ear, "Less chance of seeing Angel."
Once they've gone, I go in and sit beside Willow. I don't wait long before Spike appears, looking as if he's just wakened.
"Did Rupert waken you?" he asks. "I said I'd cover him while he went to the airport."
"No. I was awake and you weren't, so I came over."
"Bit
still asleep?"
"No. She went with Giles. She really doesn't want to run into Angel any time soon."
"No, well, seeing what I've seen lately, doesn't do anything to improve my opinion of the bloke either."
He says it quietly, as if he's expecting an argument, but I can't find words to disagree.
"I know. I can't get … that thing … the Claddagh, out of my mind. Every time I close my eyes, just the fact that he would use that … to hurt her …"
He crosses the distance to me quickly, and takes me in his arms. He just holds me for a moment, but it's obvious that he's wondering whether or not to say something.
"What?"
"Been thinking about that - the Claddagh. She said she'd been with him five years."
I nod, not sure where he's taking this.
"And Buffy'd been dead already. Now, even with some souped-up shaman to do the mojo, he couldn't be sure she'd come back, could he?"
"Probably not," I agree, still struggling with my sleep-deprived brain to see where this is going.
"See, once he'd thought of it, Angelus has patience. He'd wait until the perfect moment to use that on her. But there's no way he'd risk missing his chance."
"So, what're you suggesting?"
"That you … or one of us … were meant to see that. We were meant to know what … might have happened if the Senior Partners had managed to keep you, and if the other Angelus had managed to get his mitts on you."
"But how would they know we'd go after the other Slayers that way?"
"Maybe they didn't, but maybe, once we'd rescued the first few, they arranged something special for Fiona. I don't think she'd been with Angelus very long, although I don't know where she was before. It seems like kind of a coincidence that the one Slayer who was known by one of us, just happened to be the last. What if they hid her somehow? When I went there the first time, Angelus was interrupted by an 'emissary of the three'. The way Angelus left off what he was doing, he had a lot of respect for that. We already know the Angelus who came here was in cahoots with the Senior Partners, and we know that they tried again and again to turn our Angel bad again and bring him on board. What if …?"
"I don't know. You think it was a … warning?"
"Truth to tell, I don't know, Love. It just … seems a little too neat. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe …"
It's a chilling thought. So far, we've got three Angels - there's ours, there's the one Dru took off with her, and the one the other Buffy dusted. I can't help but wonder how many others in an infinite universe of worlds are still soul-less, and in league with the Senior Partners. As far as I'm concerned, one is one too many.
