See part 1 for disclaimer!

Chapter 2:

She needed some clothes.

It was a strange thing that this should occur to her first, seeing as there were probably a thousand other things she might have thought of. Still, as far as priorities went, covering her naked body probably was pretty high on her list.

The second thought that entered her mind was that she was probably suffering from extreme disorientation. What other explanation was there for the fact that the room seemed to be spinning around her? The stone floor she found herself on was cold, so incredibly cold, and very, very hard. She should not be feeling the cold, she mused. She was cold herself, after all. Cold as the grave.

At about that moment Angelus awoke.

Angela screamed in pain as the demon inside her reminded her of its presence. Her short stay in Heaven, or the waiting room of Heaven to be more precise, had seen her separated from the demon once again, as such a creature could have no place there. Now it was back, they were united once more, and its outraged howling filled her mind, sent her to her knees with agony as she pressed her hands to her ears in a futile attempt to block out the screams.

Memories flooded back into her with astounding speed. She remembered the final battle here in this very room. Angelus had been about to kill Buffy and her memory was in stereo. She was chained to the wall, watching as Angelus killed Buffy inch by inch, but at the same time she was the one doing the killing. She drove her sword into Buffy's shoulder and twisted the blade, watched in satisfaction as Buffy tore her own hands to shreds while trying to pull out the naked blade.

"This isn't me," Angela muttered over and over again. "This isn't me!"

She was not Angelus, had never been Angelus. She carried his memories, yes, just like she carried the memories of a young Irish lad called Liam, but she was not these people. For a hundred years she had tried to figure out her own identity, had tried to understand what the Gypsies had transformed her into on the day when they cursed her, returning a soul to this body while at the same time changing it from male to female.

Now she knew that it had not been Liam's soul that had returned from the ether on that day in 1898. The Gypsies had not known how to retrieve Liam's soul from wherever it might have gone so they just took a soul, any soul. They only sought to punish the demon, not understanding that the only thing they did was force the demon into dormancy. The demon did not suffer from the memories and the guilt, no. The soul did.

A soul that had never known existence before it had been wrenched out of the sea of unborn life and cast into a hell of blood, death, and torment.

It seemed to take forever, but Angelus' screams finally faded into the background. Their recent separation had woken him, had given him a taste of full awareness and freedom, but that was over for now. They were reunited once more and no matter the painful memories and screams it was the soul that was in charge, had always been in charge.

"I'm not you, Angelus," Angela whispered, a cold satisfaction creeping into her voice. "I never was. I never will be."

There was hatred inside of her. Hatred for those who had done this to her. All those had died a century ago, though. Those few that had survived Darla's revenge had lived just long enough to infect their children with their hatred. Angela's thoughts turned to Jennifer Calendar, the gypsy woman that she ... that Angelus had beaten within an inch of her life and put into a coma. Had she recovered by now? How much time had passed anyway?

Realizing that her thoughts were going in circles she forced herself to take stock of her surroundings. The mansion was empty, Akathler's statue nowhere to be seen. There was dust on the floor, undisturbed for what she estimated to be at least a month, maybe more. She had only been in heaven for an hour at the most, right? Who was to say, though, what an hour in heaven meant on Earth.

"Okay," she said to herself. "Priority one: Find some clothes."

Then she would find Buffy.

"Mr. Giles?"

Giles looked up from his book, at the same time realizing that he had been staring at the same page for at least half an hour. Two days had passed since his call to the Council and the situation was growing worse. Last night Oz had gotten this close to being killed by a vampire. So close, in fact, that Giles had decided not to let anyone patrol tonight.

They would safe no one by getting themselves killed.

Two people were standing in the library door, looking at him. The first, the one who had called his name, was a woman in her late thirties to early forties, dressed in conservative business attire, a stern look on her face. She immediately struck him as cold and strict.

Standing beside her was a girl, no older than sixteen certainly, probably younger. Her hair was completely white and she was dressed in jeans and a simple shirt, a look of anxiety on her face.

Giles sighed in relief, realizing who they had to be.

"Mrs. Post," he greeted the Watcher. "And you must be Ashley."

"The Vampire Slayer," the girl added proudly, yet with a certain reserve that was foreign to Giles after spending so much time around quite a few rather outspoken teenagers.

"Welcome to Sunnydale," he gestured toward the table, where the two newcomers sat down. "Can I get you anything? Tea?"

"That would be a godsend, Mr. Giles," Post said, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

"Not for me, thanks," Ashley added. She sat with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap.

A few minutes later Post was thankfully sipping on a cup of steaming tea and her posture grew a lot more relaxed.

"I am thankful that you arrived this quickly," Giles said. "Quite frankly I was expecting some more difficulties when I ..."

"The Council is well aware of the danger the Hellmouth represents," Post assured him. "There was some reluctance about sending Ashley here, seeing as she has been called as the Slayer only a month ago, but ..."

"I am ready," Ashley interrupted. "I will not let the Council down."

"I know, Ashley," Post smiled at her.

"Well, we are thankful for having you here," Giles told Ashley, giving her a smile of his own. "Things have been rather difficult as of late, I fear."

"How bad is it?" Post inquired.

"The vampires have multiplied. They are not organized as far as we know, but there are a lot of them. If some elder vampire should arrive and take command of them we will be in very deep trouble."

"Then we should take them out as soon as possible," Ashley offered. Giles had trouble assessing the young girl so far. On one hand she seemed a lot like Kendra, her obvious deference to her Watcher, her manners. Yet at the same time she seemed to be overflowing with eagerness.

"All in good time, Ashley. Mr. Giles, it has been a long flight. You have arranged for lodgings, I trust?"

"Certainly. I have rented a flat in the same block that I live in. It is furnished sparsely, but that will not pose too much of a problem, I hope?"

It was Council policy never to stay in hotels or motels, no matter the length of the stay. Vampires could enter those at will.

"It will do, I am sure. Ashley, please collect our remaining luggage from the taxi driver and pay the fee."

Ashley left to do as she was told, leaving Post alone with Giles.

"Now, Mr. Giles, I would like some more information about the current situation here. Starting with the status of Buffy Summers."

Giles sighed. He had hoped to delay this conversation somewhat, but maybe it was better to get it over with quickly.

"You received the info about the vampire Angela?"

"Certainly. A fascinating creature from what I read. Cursed with a soul and then actually split into a pure vampire demon and a human by some magic wand."

Refilling is tea cup Giles began to narrate the complicated history of Angela, her demise, and the effects it had on Buffy.

TO BE CONTINUED