Chapter 10: Cuts Both Ways

The demon seemed to enjoy watching Buffy squirm beneath its foot, the steel of the sword against her neck. She wondered momentarily if she could die in this hell, or if she would just pop up again, Mario-like, for more torture. She didn't want to find out.

The michianius lifted the sword away, and she braced for the final blow. But then she heard Angel cry out and the sound of something thumping into the demon from behind. It whirled around with a roar, releasing Buffy from underfoot, and she immediately rolled away.

Angel was clearly weak and no match for the demon. In the seconds it took to get back to her feet, the demon had lunged for him and, with one quick thrust, buried the sword through his chest.

The blow wouldn't kill a vampire, but the look of shock and confusion on Angel's face was so familiar that she felt sick to her stomach. He'd come through for her when she desperately needed him, and she'd gotten him another sword through the heart.

She flew at the demon in a fury. It turned from Angel, letting go of the sword, and met Buffy blow for blow. She held nothing back, using every ounce of her strength to pummel the scaly yellow beast until it went down. Then she made sure it wouldn't get back up.

"Angel," she said urgently, turning to him.

He was still in shock, his mouth open and his eyes wide. He had made a feeble effort to grip the sword with his hands, but hadn't tried to pull it from his body.

Tears welled in her eyes as she moved to him. This is what she had done to him, what had been haunting her. Could she let go of even this?

She reached out and put her hands on top of his. His eyes met hers and the power of it sent a shock through her, sent the tears sliding down her cheeks.

She pulled his hands away from the sword. Then she grasped the handle herself.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. As quickly and as carefully as she could, she drew the long blade back through his chest. He made a strangled sound of pain, but his eyes never left hers.

It felt like forever, but it was only a moment, and then the sword was clear. Her hands couldn't keep their grip and she let it drop. Her whole body was trembling; her knees weak.

His wound was bleeding and she thought hers must be, too, somewhere deep inside her chest.

She threw her arms around Angel anyway, heedless of the blood, the rags and the dirt.

"Buffy," he whispered, and there was so much in that one word that it took her breath away. She felt his tears against her temple and she pulled back, raising a hand to the side of his face.

Their lips touched with a sweetness that was almost unbearable, relief and love and memory fusing into physical sensation. She clung to him as the darkness around them began to flash into light. And all too soon, she was spinning away into nothingness.

†††

When Buffy opened her eyes, she was back in the in-between world. The sword was at her feet, gleaming in the firelight, clean of Angel's blood. She hated it — the cold steel that had pierced his heart and broken hers all those years ago. This symbol of their mutual punishment.

It wouldn't come between them again.

Using every bit of her concentration and effort, she was able to pick it up, fighting against the strange inertia of this place. She lobbed it toward the mystical fire. It moved slowly through the rippling air before the flames swallowed it, flashing white before returning to purple.

Only then could she look at Angel. He was panting, his brow glistening in the unnatural light. She didn't know how these trials worked for him, what he could see or feel from this place, but he had been with her in those final minutes of hell, when she pulled the sword from his chest. She was sure of it. She had felt it in the surge that swept through her when their eyes met, in the way he said her name.

She tried to concentrate again, to move to him. She felt scrubbed raw and exposed. She wanted to hide away in Angel's arms until she could grow a new skin. But the very air around her resisted, pinning her in place.

"You must save your strength," Mirela said as she struggled. "You are so close now, but you cannot know what lies ahead."

Buffy sank back and let herself go still. "Was any of that even real?" she asked Mirela weakly.

The sound of her voice seemed to startle Angel, who turned his head toward her sharply. He pressed his hand over his chest. Then, as if reassured, he rubbed it over his damp face.

"Felt real to me," he said, just above a whisper.

"You saved me," Buffy said tenderly.

"No. That wasn't...I mean, it was, but I wasn't..." He trailed off, tangled in his own words. "You saved me."

"Not yet," she answered, shaking her head. "Two down."

She set her jaw and looked to Mirela, a feeling of resolve settling over her. She was going to finish this. Whatever else was waiting inside her for this magic to find, she was ready.

"Show me what's next," she said, training her eyes on the fire. "A symbol of forgiveness, right?"

Once again, the seconds stretched as she watched the dancing flames. She could hear Angel making another protest about her finishing the trials, but she ignored him. She was way too close to stop now. Forgiveness had to be easier than punishment, didn't it? But she knew the answer to that was a big fat no. Somehow she doubted they'd go easy on her this close to the finish line.

The smoke began to curl, forming what appeared to be a necklace. A pinkish stone on a cord. For the first time, it wasn't something she immediately recognized. Which didn't make sense. What happened to the trials coming from what's inside you?

"I don't understand," she said.

But apparently the magic decided there was no need for clarifications, because she was already whirling again. All she could do was hold on for the ride.

†††

The scene that greeted her when she stopped was just as confusing, but in the opposite way. It was too familiar. She almost pinched herself as she looked around at the neat row of houses, the trees, the couple walking their dog.

Of all the places in all the worlds, she never expected to be standing in front of Giles' home in London. A place she'd been a million times before. It couldn't be this easy. She wasn't just going to be able to walk into Giles' house, sit down on the worn leather sofa and describe a mystical what-zit to him as she drank tea and tried not to scarf too many scones. She imagined him paging through the dusty reference books until he discovered the exact location of the next item on her list.

Wait. Picturing Giles in her head as he leaned over a stack of books was triggering something in her memory. A red leather cord around his neck. A flash of pink stone.

The necklace in the smoke. It was Giles'? She vaguely remembered it now. It was usually just a hint of the red cord, with the rest tucked away under his clothes, but occasionally she'd seen the stone. Just a pretty rock that she assumed had some sort of significance for spells or something. She'd never even thought to ask about it.

A weird feeling bloomed in her stomach. She felt like she should know more than she did, like she was going into battle unprepared. But that was silly. This was Giles. The two of them had never quite gotten back to the place they'd been before he left Sunnydale, but they were still a good team.

As she stood staring at his front door, drops of cold rain began to fall from the overcast sky. It was enough to get her feet moving, propelling her forward to his front stoop and the shelter it provided.

Before she lost momentum, she took a deep breath, lifted her hand and knocked. She could hear someone moving inside, and the door opened after a slight delay. Giles was there, drying his hands on a dishcloth. He looked like his usual self, dressed in jeans and a sweater, his trademark glasses in place. She saw the tiniest hint of the red cord around his neck.

"Buffy." Giles smiled in greeting. "Xander said you had a lead on the michianius demon that would take you out of Bucharest, but I never dreamt it would bring you this far."

"Neither did I," Buffy said ruefully as he began to step back to allow her inside.

"Is Angel with you?" he asked.

"Of course I am," said a voice from inside the house.

Giles spun around. Buffy moved out from behind Giles and stopped short. The sight in front of her filled her with dread.

Angel's eyes were cold and hard, his lips curled into a smirk. "I would never miss a chance to see my old buddy Rupert."