Chapter 7: Ring of Fire

If Ghost Angel noticed Buffy's slow pace as she picked her way through the debris, he didn't comment. None of this made any sense when Buffy tried to logic her way through it in her head, but she was happy just to have a lead to follow — anything to feel like she was getting somewhere in this Hellmouthhole.

Angel was leading her deeper into the crater, where towering debris blocked them from direct sunlight. It was a good thing, too, given the way he'd disappeared in the light earlier. The last thing she needed was to lose him again.

She focused on keeping herself upright and tried not to think about what fun surprises might await when they reached what used to be Crawford Street. She didn't know how long she had to save Angel — non-ghost-variety Angel — and she would still have two trials to get through after this one. She couldn't get lost in the dwell.

She turned her head just in time to catch Angel giving her a sidelong glance. She almost felt like blushing, like time had rewound for her, too. She tried to remember what it was like to be that Buffy, the one who was just a few weeks away from a putting on a white dress and marching off to certain death. What a brave and foolish girl she had been. And, oh, how that girl had loved Angel. She knew so little about him then, but he had saved her from Darla and kissed her in The Bronze and she'd left her heart behind when she walked away.

She hadn't even understood then what it meant for Angel to dust his sire. To Buffy, Darla was just another vampire. A little different, of course, because of her history with Angel — one that Buffy hadn't wanted to think too much about — but back then, Buffy would not have been able to imagine feeling anything for a soulless demon. She knew better now. She thought of the revulsion that had gone through her when Riley offered to take out "The Doctor" and how difficult it was to stop caring, even when you weren't sure how you felt, even if you believed it was wrong.

And knowing what she knew now — that Darla would come back and have Angel's child, that she would stake herself to give that child a chance at life — well, it made Buffy feel a little sick.

"That must've been hard for you," she said.

Angel turned to her, his face blank.

"The thing with Darla, I mean," Buffy clarified. "I was just thinking about what you said earlier."

"It's complicated," he said. "But it wasn't hard."

"It wasn't?"

"She was trying to kill you," he reminded her. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking."

Buffy let the silence envelop them again.

Angel gestured to the right, and Buffy realized they were turning into the remains of another graveyard. That wasn't surprising, really, considering just how many cemeteries there had been inside the Sunnydale city limits.

"So if we find what you're looking for, you can break the spell?" he asked.

"That's the plan," she said as she stepped over a broken headstone with the engraved words "In Loving" still visible.

"So what is it you're looking for?"

"Something I lost a long time ago," she said. "It's a r—"

She'd stopped being careful for just a second and it had been a mistake. The ground shifted beneath her foot and she was plunging into the darkness. Angel grabbed for her — like that was going to help.

She landed hard, which wasn't pleasant, but she didn't seem to have broken or twisted anything vital. The bad news, she saw as she scrabbled to her feet, was that the pocket she had fallen into was deep and the sides practically sheer.

Angel came into view above her as he peered over the side of the pit.

"I'm OK!" she called up.

"I don't understand," he responded. "My hands…"

She shrugged. "So you're incorporeal. I don't know anyone who doesn't have some body issues."

Angel bent over and tried to pick up a rock from the edge of the hole. No luck. She wondered what this scene looked like to him. Had she fallen into a really deep open grave in an otherwise neatly maintained Restfield? She shuddered at the thought, but the logical part of her brain decided it was not worth going there. She started examining her surroundings for an escape route.

Having an apparition for a crater companion was so less than ideal right now. With no body, he wasn't going to be much help getting her out of the pit. And, even worse, it meant that kissing was definitely out.

She actually laughed out loud at herself. Everything about this soul quest was 50 kinds of messed up, but apparently the thought of kissing Angel was never far from her mind when he was around.

And, boy, did she miss those kisses. The ones before they knew anything about perfect happiness clauses or how they might be triggered. When the possibilities between them were endless and exciting. When every kiss was one step closer, and they didn't know how much they needed to hold back.

If she made it through these crazy trials, maybe she'd be able to kiss him like that again. And then do a hell of a lot more than kissing.

Feeling a surge of determination, she put all of her effort into an attempt to climb up one side of the pit, but the rocks and dirt just gave way. She slid right down with them.

This was just great.

She'd made no progress unless you considered getting really dirty something to strive for. This was the way of Sunnydale, it seemed — always another hole to fall into, always that feeling of being stuck and, ultimately, alone.

"I've got it!" Angel said suddenly. "Look up here! Can you jump up on this side and grab these roots?"

Hmm. When she moved closer, she could see the same roots were visible in her version of the world. Maybe this situation wasn't so hopeless after all.

She spent a few seconds gathering her mental focus as she mapped out the root route in her mind.

"Here goes nothing," she said. She took a few steps back to get room for a bit of a running start, then leaped. When her hands found the roots, she half-expected them to rip apart in her grasp, but they held. She pulled herself up, hand over hand, until she could swing her leg up to the side and haul herself out.

Angel reached to help her, but pulled his hands back as if he'd been burned when they passed through her instead.

"Thanks," she said once she was finally clear of the pit. "I would have been down there a lot longer without you."

He looked at her intently. "Buffy, what's going on? This spell...It's not you that it's having an effect on, is it? It's doing something to me."

"I think there's magic at work on both of us," she said. "But I don't just look older, Angel. I am older. I really am 24."

"So it's some kind of time travel?" His brow creased.

"I don't think so. I...I'm not sure how I'm even seeing you, honestly. I don't really have any answers. All I know is that I still need to get to Crawford Street, if you can take me there."

Angel looked down at his hands again for a moment and then started walking obligingly. His confusion and agitation lingered at first, but gradually his demeanor seemed to lighten and he began to shoot little glances her way. At one point, a half-smile appeared on his lips and stayed there, which was incredibly distracting to her efforts to not fall into another pit. Finally she had to stop and ask: "What? What is it?"

He didn't pretend not to know what she meant. "You're really 24?"

"Really really. Why?"

His smile grew wider. "So you made it. You got through all of this."

"Not without the necessary ingredients for a ginormous therapy bill," she said, "but yes, I guess I did."

He beamed at her with so much admiration and affection that she felt a little silly. But then she remembered. Angel had first seen her when she was just a Potential. And now she knew what that was like, to see a young woman who was about to be kicked in the teeth by destiny, and to want to help so badly but to also know that she was probably going to die.

And Buffy had died, twice, and some of the Potentials hadn't made it. But she was still there — partly because of his help — and now she was helping new slayers all over the world. She'd shared her strength, given them what she could. That was all they could ever hope to do.

She was smiling too as they continued walking, but her face fell when Ghost Angel stopped and gestured ahead of him. "Crawford Street," he said.

It was a cliff.

There was nothing but blackness below.

"OK," she said. "New plan."

"What's the problem?"

"I can already tell we're not going to find it here. I need to think."

"You should tell me. All of it. Maybe I can help."

"That's probably a good idea."

"But, Buffy, I have to know one thing first." His eyes darted toward her, then away. "In the future, am I still a part of your life?"

She wished she could reach out and touch him. "You haven't always been," she said truthfully. "But I'm hoping you can be again, if I can find this damn ring."

"It's a ring?"

"Yeah, it's...just like the one you wear, actually. But smaller."

"A Claddagh ring?" He looked down at his hand for a moment and then pulled something silver from the breast pocket of his blazer. He held it out to her. "Like this?"

Her heart nearly stopped beating. "You have it?" she choked out.

With the hand that wasn't holding the ring, he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I saw it in a window not long ago, on a day when I was...forgetting myself. But I thought maybe I could give it to you someday. Maybe as something to remember me by."

"Angel," she breathed out. Her thoughts were a jumble, but her hand reached toward him anyway.

"But if you need it now..." He was still a ghost, his hand couldn't touch hers, but the ring was real enough as he slid it onto her finger. She could feel the cool smoothness slipping over her skin.

She looked up at him, both awed and stricken. His eyes went wide with surprise. She didn't know what was happening. She tried to find words but before she could even open her mouth to speak, she was spinning back into the darkness.

†††

When she re-emerged by the purple campfire, the first thing Buffy checked was the ring. It was still there, glinting gorgeously in the firelight.

She looked over at Angel. If she were someone else, someone who didn't know him, he would look the same. But there was something around his eyes now that was different. He seemed more powerful, more imposing, even just sitting there. But love and concern for her were still written all over his face. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but in this strange shadow realm, it seemed impossible to move from her spot near the fire.

Suddenly, anger rose in her throat.

"What the hell was that?" she snapped at Mirela.

Mirela looked unperturbed. "I do not control these magicks," she said evenly. "These trials come from what is inside you." She laid a hand over her heart, looking first at Buffy and then at Angel.

"Buffy, you can stop now. You don't have to keep putting yourself through this," Angel said.

"It's not that," she answered quietly. "Don't worry about me."

"I am sorry, but you do not have time for this. You must continue," Mirela said. "You must look into the fire once again."

Buffy's eyes lingered on Angel for a moment, reassuring him, but then they sought out the flames. She needed to know what could possibly be next.

The seconds stretched out maddeningly before the smoke began to coalesce into something recognizable. Something long and pointy, with an ornate handle.

Oh, no. Oh, it couldn't be.

Buffy half-covered her eyes with her fingers as she realized what she was seeing. She knew where the next trial would take her.

She was going to hell.

A/N: Happy holidays! I really appreciate that you're reading my story! Thank you!