Chapter 4: Psyche
"You have taken far too long," said the woman wearing Jenny Calendar's face. Her voice didn't match Buffy's expectations. It was lower in register and flavored with an accent. "You must come inside."
Angel was at Buffy's shoulder now. "It's not her," Buffy said. "The First is back."
"She's not The First," Angel said, his eyes never leaving Jenny's face. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. "She's flesh and blood, all right."
"I should have realized that you would see in me a familiar face," the woman said, pulling her arm from Angel's grasp. "There is a strong resemblance among many of the women in our family."
"Your family," Buffy said, realizing.
"Kalderash," Angel said, almost a whisper.
"Not just any Kalderash," the Romani woman clarified. "The last."
†††
Her name was Mirela. She ushered their shocked selves into her kitchen, where they sat while she poured red wine into two more glasses.
"The demon," Buffy said after a minute. "That was you?"
"Simple magic," Mirela responded.
"But all those people—"
"I think you'll find that none were killed who were not known for abusing or enslaving Roma. The authorities do nothing. I fancy myself above my family's taste for vengeance, but perhaps that is, after all, only a fancy."
"But why a demon?"
"I had to get your attention in some way."
"Phone call? Postcard? Singing telegram?"
"I did not know how to reach you." Buffy had asked the question, but the response was directed to Angel. "My letters went unanswered. I can no longer travel so freely. So I turned to more celestial channels."
"The visions," Angel said.
"It was easy enough to attract Their notice. They have an interest in you. My family has lost its interest."
"I thought you were the last of your family," Buffy said.
"There are many who bear the name Kalderash. But there are none remaining who have the gift as I do."
"You wanted our attention. You have it. What is this all about?" Angel asked.
"What else could it be about? Your soul."
Fear unsheathed its claws and buried them in Buffy's stomach. She wanted to take Angel's hand but stopped herself.
"Why should we even listen to you? You've been spending a whole lot of time lately trying to manipulate us," she said instead.
"You do not have to believe me. But it will be your loss. The simple truth is that I am dying. And the moment I die, Angelus' soul will be destroyed."
†††
Mirela was much, much older than she looked. It was magic that gave her the appearance of her youth. "Another fancy of mine," she explained. She had been a baby when her family had cursed Angel with a soul, and when his "friends" slaughtered most of their camp in retaliation. Buffy realized she must mean Darla and Drusilla and Spike.
What an odd twist of fate. Killing one girl had gotten Angel a punishment that lasted more than a century, while the murder of who knows how many of her family members by the others had been largely forgotten. Well, Darla was dead now. Spike had a soul. But Drusilla was still out there somewhere, killing on her slightest whims. Buffy felt a stab in her chest when she realized she too had let Dru go, while giving Angel's soul a punishment that lasted a century.
But she couldn't dwell on that now, not when...Buffy forced herself to pay attention.
Magic had always been part of Mirela's life. One of the few remaining elderwomen had trained her in all of the old ways, including the dark magic that had been used to curse Angel.
"The rules of magic — even the darkest magic — are fixed," Mirela said, a faraway look in her eyes. "A curse cannot be cast if there is not some way to break it."
"We are very familiar with the loophole in this particular curse," Buffy said testily.
"Perfect happiness — yes. That causes the soul to flee its demonic vessel. It sets the monster free. But it does not remove the curse from the soul."
"Of course," Angel said, softly.
"Huh?" Buffy said, loudly.
"The Ritual of Restoration — the rite of returning a soul — is not complicated magic. As you know, even a gifted child can do it. This soul can be lost and restored over and over again. To remove the curse from the soul, to reunite soul and body permanently — that is much more difficult. I would say it is nearly impossible."
"But what about the loophole?"
"As I say, nearly impossible. Not completely. But there is an easier method. The curse on the soul can be broken with the death of the person whose power sustains it. That is now me alone."
Buffy looked at Mirela sharply. "But you said..."
"You already know that my family is obsessed with vengeance. Many cruelties can be justified in the name of justice." Mirela shook her head sadly. "If the curse is broken by death, the soul will be consumed in the process."
This time, Buffy did take Angel's hand.
"The elders feared retaliation — and rightly so. That is how the cycle of vengeance works. It was the cruelest retribution they could envision."
Buffy stared into the face that looked so much like her old teacher's, trying to decide if what she said was true. It had been a long time since Buffy could bear to think much about Ms. Calendar. There was so much... But looking at her relative reminded Buffy of something she'd been told long ago.
"I don't understand," she said. "I thought these magicks had been lost to your people."
"I was lost to my people," Mirela said. "I quarreled with my cousin Enyos. He was rigid and foolish and did not understand my gift." She sipped her wine. "Men never know a family's deepest secrets. It is always the women who are forced to carry them."
Angel seemed like he had not been listening for some time. But he spoke then, in a strangled voice. "How long?"
"Very soon," Mirela said regretfully. "Weeks, maybe days. You must prepare yourself to die." She turned to Buffy. "And you must be prepared to kill him, once the soul is gone. We followed him for decades to make sure it would be done. But Enyos and his niece both failed. When I am gone, there will be no one who will be able to carry out that responsibility."
Buffy thought again of her dream, of Angel's horrified face. Was this her fate? To kill Angel again and again?
"Thank you," Angel said to Mirela. "Thank you for giving me time to prepare." He pulled his hand from Buffy's and stood. His eyes were completely shuttered to her, his face emotionless.
Buffy felt as though an actual fire had been sparked in her chest. She jumped to her feet, knocking over the glass in front of her. She didn't bother to right it. The wine soaked into the tablecloth like blood.
"So that's it? You're just going to let your soul be destroyed?! Angel, that's literally a fate worse than death."
"I need to see my son, Buffy. I need to figure out a way to get to him."
"You need to stay and fight this. You need to not leave him."
"It's over," he said. She remembered the last time he'd said those words to her, on death's door as poison coursed through him. She'd forced him to live then. Maybe it was time to stop forcing him. But her brain rebelled wildly against that thought.
"It's never over, remember?" She grabbed his arm and made him look at her. "I told you that you're not allowed to make all the decisions on this mission. We can figure it out."
"You won't have to do it, Buffy."
"What?"
"Once I've...said goodbye to Connor, I'll take care of it myself. I won't wait."
"This is insane," Buffy said.
"Maybe it's what needs to happen. I saw in a vision...in hell. This would prevent it from ever coming true."
"I don't know what you saw, but hell-o-vision doesn't strike me as the most reliable of sources. It's not enough reason to give up. There's gotta be a way—"
"Yes," Mirela interrupted calmly. "Let us speak of the nearly impossible, shall we?"
†††
The answer, of course, was a series of trials. That's how this soul stuff always worked, with torture and pain and suffering. And of course Angel perked up when he heard that maybe he could suffer his way out of this mess. Angel ran a suffer-athon a day. This was practically his forte.
"The only way to keep your soul safe is to prove you have met three ideals," Mirela explained. "You must show evidence of love, of punishment and of forgiveness. If you can do so, your soul will be freed from the curse."
"That doesn't sound so hard," Buffy said.
"Each ideal will be symbolized by a sacred object. You will not know what these objects are until the trials begin. Seeking them will require great risks, and you will not have much time."
"Can we help him?" Buffy asked Mirela. "Or does he have to do this on his own?"
"He cannot do it at all," she answered.
Buffy wanted to wring the woman's neck in frustration. "Keep talking."
"Angelus cannot complete the trials himself. That would not be proof enough to satisfy the magic. To put it in the simplest terms, it is not enough for him to love, he must be loved in return."
The light that had sparked in Angel's eyes was fading.
"Doesn't your son have superpowers?" Buffy asked hopefully.
"I could never ask him to do this."
"It would not matter in any case," Mirela said. "A child's love is pure but not quite freely given."
The words were tumbling out of Buffy's mouth before she could stop them. "I could do it."
"No," Angel said immediately. "I won't even consider that."
"Does he have to agree?" Buffy asked Mirela.
She smiled a tiny smile. "For your sake, I regret to say that yes, he must."
"This isn't going to happen," Angel said. He stood and touched Mirela's arm. "The mercy you have shown me has been more than I deserve. I hope your last days are as comfortable as possible."
He looked at Buffy significantly and then headed toward the door, clearly expecting her to follow.
"There is still time," Mirela said to Buffy, "but it is very limited. At dawn, I begin my final journey, back to the place where I was born. It is there I wish to die. If you are to save his soul, you too must go to that place. We must return to where it all began."