Under the post office
"The Slayer approaches," said the male oracle, drawing close to his counterpart, his eyes lighting with something like awe. "What does the Chosen One want?"
"I need to know why Angel became human, and I know it can't just be because he got slicked up with demon blood. What's the deal?"
"The Powers for which we speak meddle but rarely in the affairs of lower creatures," the female oracle pronounced. "There may have been many consequences of the Warrior's confrontation with the Mohra demon. This was perhaps the luckiest."
"Except that it's driving him crazy," said Buffy, feeling a little wiggy at the way the pair were looking at her. Or maybe it was their paint. "What can I do? Everything is perfect except that Angel's guilt is pulling him away from me."
"The Warrior's character is what makes him a fit tool for the Powers," said the female. "As long as he remembers, he will be driven by his guilt. It will fuel the fires that purge this world of evil."
"So, does he need therapy?" Buffy asked, hopefully.
The Oracles shared a glance, then the male spoke thoughtfully. "If the Warrior destroys himself, he will leave the Slayer unprotected at a critical time. This must not be."
"Destroys himself?" Buffy asked incredulously. "Suicide? After 100 years of guilt over being a vampire and he doesn't do the Kevorkian with a stake. But one night with me and he's gonna throw himself in front of a truck? I don't get it."
The female smiled. "You are strong, Chosen One. Stronger even than the Warrior, body and mind. Will you take his memories of that time from him into yourself? Then you will know why he was so guilt-ridden and the burden will be lifted from him. You will be free to begin your life together — so long as you have the strength to bear the burden of that memory for both of you. I will grant this boon if you ask it."
"Yes," Buffy nearly shouted, then considered for a moment. " I mean, I remember it from my point of view anyway, so how bad could it be?"
The Oracles smiled and made an elegant gesture as one. Memories buffeted Buffy like winds trying to push her over a cliff. She remembered: animal delight, the taste of blood, her body struggling deliciously under his weight, his blesh pounding into hers, wild abandon, the awesome power of climax laced with Slayer blood, the thrill of combat and death, of defending his territory and mate, his property. Buffy staggered and fell, her stomach heaving, her mind overwhelmed. She turned her face back up and saw only blank wall. The Oracles were done with her, their bargain met. Now she only needed to live with it.