Chapter 18: What's My Line Part 1
December 15, 1997 – Monday
Dawn's Mindscape
In the quiet recesses of their shared consciousness, Dawn felt the familiar presence of Jolinar enveloping her thoughts. The ethereal space, a canvas painted with the echoes of countless memories, welcomed the silent dialogue between the two.
"Dawn," Jolinar's voice resonated within the mental realm they shared. "I sense your curiosity. Would you like to know more about my previous hosts?"
Dawn nodded within the confines of their mental connection, her thoughts rippling like gentle waves in response. "Yeah, I mean, if you're comfortable sharing. It's just... it's all so fascinating, and I want to understand more about you."
Jolinar's essence pulsed with a blend of warmth and appreciation. "I appreciate your curiosity. My hosts have been diverse, each contributing to the collective experiences that shape who I am."
As if rifling through the pages of a cosmic tome, memories unfolded before Dawn's mental gaze. Faces, names, and snippets of lives danced in the recesses of their shared consciousness.
"My earliest known host was Bana. She hailed from a world that bore witness to the birth and fall of civilizations. Bana was a diplomat, a seeker of peace in a turbulent cosmos. Her resilience left an indelible mark on my core."
Dawn absorbed the fragments of Bana's life, sensing the strength that resonated through the ages. "What about the others?"
Jolinar's essence shifted, transitioning seamlessly to another chapter of her storied existence. "Then came Lanasha, a warrior who fought valiantly against the Goa'uld. Her determination to resist tyranny echoed through the ages, a legacy that still reverberates within me."
The mental space shimmered, transitioning to yet another chapter. "And there was Rosha, a scientist with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Her intellect and curiosity were profound, shaping my appreciation for the intricacies of the universe."
Dawn marveled at the tapestry of lives woven into the fabric of Jolinar's being. "It's like you're this living record of so many incredible people."
Jolinar's presence hummed with a sense of affirmation. "Indeed. Each host contributes to the evolving tapestry of my existence. Their memories, strengths, and lessons endure, forging a connection that transcends the boundaries of time and space. Just as your memories will reside within me long after our time together is over."
In the gentle cadence of Jolinar's words, there lingered a profound acknowledgment of the symbiotic dance they shared. The mental space, a sanctuary of shared thoughts and experiences, held the imprints of countless lives—a kaleidoscope of emotions, struggles, and triumphs woven into the very fabric of their intertwined consciousness.
"As the guardian of these memories, I carry the essence of those who came before," Jolinar continued, her voice a soothing melody within the ethereal expanse they occupied. "Their joys and sorrows, their passions and fears—they echo through me, creating a mosaic of existence that extends far beyond the boundaries of any singular moment."
Dawn felt a gentle reassurance in Jolinar's words, a promise that the legacy of those who had journeyed with the symbiote would endure, leaving an indelible mark on the intricate tapestry of her being.
"It's like you're a bridge between all these different lives," Dawn mused, her thoughts twining with the essence of Jolinar. "A living testament to the strength of those who came before."
Jolinar's response resonated with a profound truth. "In a way, yes. The connection we share goes beyond the limitations of individuality. It's a testament to the resilience of life and the unbroken chain of existence that stretches across the cosmos."
"So you will carry a piece of me with you for the rest of your life?" Dawn asked, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and vulnerability. As the words hung in the air, a subtle gravity settled over the conversation, and the question resonated with a depth that transcended the immediate moment.
"Yes," Jolinar replied, her tone carrying a weight of responsibility and affection. "Your thoughts, your essence, will remain intertwined with mine. The imprint of our shared moments, the laughter and the challenges, will echo through the corridors of my consciousness."
Dawn's eyes reflected a mixture of emotions—gratitude, a touch of melancholy, and a growing acceptance of the unique bond they had forged. In that ephemeral space where words transcended the confines of spoken language, they understood the beauty and complexity of their connection.
"Does it feel strange?" Dawn queried, her thoughts echoing the curiosity that danced in her eyes.
Jolinar paused for a moment, a ripple of contemplation passing through the mental landscape they shared. "No, not strange. It feels like an honor. A testament to the moments we've woven together in the fabric of existence. Your presence, your consciousness, becomes a part of the ongoing narrative within me."
Sunnydale High School – 2 pm
It was Sunnydale High's Career Fair, and the gang found themselves navigating the maze of education-centric endeavors at Joyce's insistence. Despite the inherent challenges posed by their extraterrestrial experiences and memories, Joyce was determined to ensure that each member of their eclectic group received a grounding in Earth-based education. The intent was clear – to provide them with a frame of reference, a point of comparison between the terrestrial and the extraordinary realities of the Republic.
In the bustling chaos of the Career Fair preparation, Dawn and Buffy found themselves in the lounge with Xander. The air was charged with the anticipation of the event, banners hanging from the walls serving as colorful reminders that the fair awaited them the next day. Across the room, the school guidance counselor sat behind a table bearing a sign that declared, "Vocational Aptitude Tests."
Dawn, however, was lost in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the mundane surroundings. Unbeknownst to the others, her mental connection with Jolinar took precedence over the impending aptitude test. Buffy leaned in, breaking the silence that enveloped Dawn's contemplative state.
"Dawnie?" Buffy whispered, drawing her sister's attention away from the recesses of her mind. "Aptitude test, remember?"
"Sorry, talking to Jolinar," Dawn confessed, her eyes refocusing on the immediate surroundings.
Buffy nodded in acknowledgment as she spotted Willow entering the room, her red hair catching the light as she grabbed a test and made her way over to join them. The quartet huddled together, surrounded by the hum of whispered conversations and the rustle of test papers.
As Xander solemnly read out a question from his test, the room seemed to shrink into a microcosm of academic contemplation. "Are you a people person or do you prefer keeping your own company?" he recited, his voice taking on an air of mock seriousness. A moment of pause followed as he furrowed his brow, wrestling with the peculiarities of the query. "What if I'm a people person who keeps his own company by default?"
Buffy, ever pragmatic, responded with a quip that echoed the pragmatic attitude they had all adopted in the face of these Earthly assessments. "So, mark 'none of the above.'"
Xander's frustration surfaced, evident in the lines etched on his forehead. "There is no box for none of the above. That would introduce too many variables into their mushroom-head, number-crunching little world."
Willow couldn't help but interject, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm sensing bitterness."
Xander shot Willow a lopsided grin. "It's just, I already know what the rest of my life is going to be," he reminded his friends. "Chief Engineer of the Valkyrie. So taking this is kind of redundant."
Willow's eyes widened with curiosity. "I'm kind of curious to find out what sort of career I might have had without the introduction of the Valkyrie, Basestar, Enterprise, and Hapes."
The trio of friends exchanged glances, their expressions hinting at a shared sentiment of intrigue. The ordinary high school environment, adorned with banners promoting career aspirations, seemed to echo with the weight of the extraordinary experiences they had lived through in the vastness of the universe.
As the group pondered their respective paths, Cordelia's voice cut through the air, drawing their attention. Cordelia, accompanied by her entourage of admirers, approached with her test form in hand. She recited one of the questions with a nonchalant air. "'I aspire to help my fellow man.' Check." A decisive mark followed on her paper, but then a puzzled expression clouded her features. "I mean, as long as he's not, like, smelly or dirty or something gross," she added, clarifying her stance with a touch of candid honesty.
The four friends shared a knowing look, understanding the facade Cordelia maintained in this high school reality—a reality soon to be shattered by the revelation of her true role as the Commanding Officer of the Cylon Basestar when introduced to the Republic.
Cordelia, sensing their unspoken understanding, winked at Xander, Dawn, Willow, and Buffy before gracefully moving away, her Cordettes trailing behind like loyal attendants.
Buffy's attention returned to her test, her eyes narrowing at an unexpected question. "Do I like shrubs?"
"That's between you and your gods," Xander quipped, a touch of Colonial polytheism seeping into his response.
Dawn playfully teased Xander, recognizing the cultural influence in his words. "Xander, your Colonial side is showing through," she remarked, and he met her gaze with a raised eyebrow. "You said gods, plural. The Colonials are polytheistic, remember."
"What'd you put?" Buffy asked Willow, craning her neck to see.
"I came down on the side of shrubs," Willow answered, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and determination.
"Go shrubs," Buffy agreed, settling back in her seat. "That said. I have to agree with Xander. For us, this is kind of pointless. We all know what we're going to be. I am the commanding officer of the Valkyrie. You, Willow, are my CAG officer, Xander, like you said, you're my chief engineer. And Dawn is the host to Jolinar and currently a Jedi Padawan. Our roles are kind of already lined out for us."
Dawn's eyes flashed, and a subtle change in her demeanor signaled Jolinar taking over. "Not that any of you would wish to change your roles," she said, her voice carrying a wisdom that transcended time.
"Your right, Jolinar," Buffy, Xander, and Willow agreed, their words a harmonious echo that reverberated through the lounge.
Restfield Cemetery – 9 pm
It was usually quiet in the cemetery, but tonight a storm was threatening. Buffy and Tara walked among the graves, every sense alert to potential danger. This would be the last stop on the patrol tonight, and the girls were tired, eager to get home. Dead leaves tumbled across the ground, scraping over headstones, riding a stiff wind. And yet suddenly there came a different sound—not the stealthy brewing of thunderclouds, but a closer, more distinct sound.
"Buffy," Tara whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves.
Buffy stopped in her tracks, her senses heightened. The sound came again—tink, tink, tink—and she furrowed her brow, trying to place it. "I hear it," she said, her eyes scanning the dark tombstones and shifting shadows. And then she noticed something.
The mausoleum stood slightly apart from the other graves, rising high above them in moldering splendor. Buffy gazed at it for a long moment, a sense of foreboding settling over her. Finally, she began moving toward it. "This way," she ordered, her tone commanding and decisive.
The tinkling sound grew louder as Buffy and Tara approached the front of the mausoleum. They could tell that the noise emanated from inside, and, to their surprise, they saw that the solid iron door was standing open. An eerie glow of light flickered across the threshold, casting an otherworldly ambiance over the scene. Buffy and Tara exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the unusual nature of their discovery.
With a deep breath, they looked into the mausoleum, uncertainty and anticipation coursing through their veins.
A torch was set in the ground, and it was this light that threw its macabre shadows over the gloomy, rotting interior of the tomb. Buffy and Tara, their senses sharpened by the eerie scene unfolding before them, observed the sinister silhouette pressed against the far wall. The figure, seemingly oblivious to their presence, was engrossed in a nefarious task, focused on one of the vault doors. The air hung heavy with anticipation as the lock finally gave way, and the thief swung the vault open, revealing its mysterious contents.
Buffy and Tara exchanged a glance, their silent communication conveying a shared understanding of the situation. With a nod of agreement, they stealthily withdrew from the mausoleum, positioning themselves at the bottom of the steps. Their demeanor exuded casual confidence, arms folded across their chests, weapons hanging from their hips, ready to confront the intruder who was about to emerge.
As the shadowy figure stepped into the flickering torchlight, Buffy's voice cut through the graveyard silence. "Does 'rest in peace' have no sanctity to you people?" she asked in mock surprise. "Oh, I forgot—you're not people."
The vampire froze, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of surprise and defiance. Clutching a red velvet bag in one hand, he prepared to defend himself, unaware of the imminent danger lurking behind him. The two other vampires, silent as shadows, were closing in on Buffy and Tara, intending to take advantage of the distraction.
But the vampire's assumption proved wrong as the unmistakable snap-hiss of Tara's lightsaber echoed through the air, its vibrant energy blade illuminating the dark surroundings. The sound halted the approaching vampires in their tracks, their predatory instincts momentarily overridden by the unexpected turn of events.
The vampires lifted their claws, their feral instincts unleashed, and poised for attack. Buffy and Tara, acting on pure instinct and honed combat skills, wheeled without warning. With a swift and synchronized motion, they executed vicious, jumping kicks that sent the vampires stumbling backward. In the blink of an eye, Buffy seized her opponent, delivering a powerful blow that drove the vampire's head into the solid trunk of a nearby tree.
With precision, Buffy unholstered her phaser, setting it to its maximum setting. The beam of energy erupted from the weapon, engulfing the vampire in an incandescent glow. In a matter of seconds, the vampire disintegrated into ashes, leaving only a trail of faint smoke in its wake.
Simultaneously, Tara swung her lightsaber in a wide, controlled arc, the energy blade slicing through the air with deadly grace. The blade connected with the neck of her vampire adversary, and in a macabre display, the vampire's head soared through the night, leaving its now lifeless body to crumble into dust.
"Two down," Buffy declared triumphantly, the eerie glow of the torch casting shadows on her determined expression. She and Tara spun gracefully, their senses attuned to the vampire that had managed to slip away during the fray. "Tara, can you sense it?"
Tara closed her eyes, reaching out with her heightened sensitivity, tapping into the currents of the Force that flowed around her. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she sought to feel the presence of the elusive vampire. After a moment, she opened her eyes, a tinge of sadness in her gaze. "Sorry, Buffy," she said with a heavy heart. "I guess since vampires are dead, they don't resonate within the Force."
"Well, two out of three isn't bad," Buffy said, casting a glance at the empty steps of the mausoleum. The remnants of their confrontation with the vampires lay in the stillness of the graveyard, shadows playing across the ancient tombstones. "Though I'm going to need to make a report to Giles. See what he makes of a vampire stealing from a mausoleum." She turned her gaze to Tara. "Come on, let's head home."
Tara nodded, the echoes of their recent battle lingering in the air. Side by side, they started the journey back, the rustle of leaves underfoot punctuating the quiet night. The looming storm had held off for now, but the tension lingered, a palpable energy that seemed to mirror the unresolved conflicts within the supernatural realm.
"So," Buffy said, stealing a glance at the Jedi walking beside her. "Have you and Dawn talked any more about how you two feel about each other?"
"No," Tara replied, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. "Not since before she became the host to Jolinar. Why do you ask?"
Buffy sighed, a hint of concern creasing her brow. "Just wondering, you know? Dawn's been through a lot lately, and I want to make sure everyone's coping okay. She's got this whole blending-with-an-ancient-symbiote thing going on, and it's a lot to process."
Tara nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It's a unique situation, for sure. I'm trying to be there for her, but it's a complex mix of emotions. The blending with Jolinar has added another layer to everything."
Buffy's reassuring smile held a warmth that echoed through the quiet night. "You're doing great, Tara. Dawn's lucky to have you looking out for her. And not just as her Jedi Master, but also as her friend. That said, you should talk to her."
Tara's gaze drifted to the path ahead, a contemplative expression on her face. "I'll think about it," she said, her thoughts already turning toward the complex dynamics that intertwined her role as a mentor and a friend in Dawn's life. The night air seemed to carry the weight of unspoken conversations, a tapestry of emotions woven through the bonds of their chosen family.
Buffy's brow furrowed slightly as Tara's words settled into the quiet between them. "So, why haven't you taken your own advice with Xander?"
A fleeting shadow passed over Buffy's features, a mix of vulnerability and hesitation. The night held a stillness that seemed to encourage honesty. "It's complicated," she admitted, her gaze searching the darkness as if seeking answers. "With everything that's happened, it's been hard to find the right time. And there's always this fear of messing up what we have, you know? Besides, I have to think of Angel too. After all, he and I were officially dating before Halloween."
Tara listened, her understanding gaze offering a safe space for Buffy's thoughts to unfold. The air hung heavy with the weight of the Slayer's unspoken concerns, and the rustle of leaves seemed to echo the internal struggles beneath the surface.
"I get that," Tara said, her voice soft and empathetic. "It's a delicate balance, especially when there are so many layers to consider. The history you share, the friendships, and, of course, Angel. It's not just about finding the right time; it's about figuring out what feels right for you."
Summers Home – 10 pm
When Buffy and Tara reached the Summers Home, they went their separate ways. Tara disappeared into her and Dawn's room, the door closing softly behind her, while Buffy headed into her own room, the familiar haven that held the traces of countless battles fought and victories celebrated.
Dawn looked up from her book as Tara entered the room, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Have a good patrol?"
"Somewhat," Tara answered, her gaze holding a mixture of weariness and determination. "We dusted two vampires, but a third got away." She locked eyes with Dawn, her expression carrying an unspoken weight.
Dawn felt the shift in the atmosphere, a subtle tension that hinted at an important conversation looming. Tara, her mentor and friend, sat down on the edge of the bed, and Dawn closed her book, sensing the gravity of the moment.
"About?" Dawn asked, her curiosity tinged with a touch of apprehension.
"I think you already know, Dawn," Jolinar's voice resonated within Dawn's mind, the symbiotic presence of the Tok'ra adding another layer to their connection.
"I know, Jolinar, but I need her to say it," Dawn thought, her inner dialogue a silent plea for open communication.
Tara took a deep breath, the weight of the conversation settling in the room like a palpable energy. "About us," Tara said, her voice steady. "About our feelings."
Dawn's eyes met Tara's, a mix of vulnerability and courage mirrored in both gazes. The unspoken bond between them, forged through shared experiences and the blending of Jolinar, added complexity to the emotions swirling beneath the surface.
Tara continued, choosing her words with care. "Things have changed, Dawn. Jolinar's presence has brought a new layer to our connection. It's important for us to acknowledge what we feel and understand how it impacts our relationship."
Dawn nodded, her own thoughts echoing Tara's sentiments. "I want to understand, Tara. I want to navigate this, but I need to hear it from you. What does this mean for us?"
Tara reached out, gently placing a hand on Dawn's shoulder. "It means we need to talk openly and honestly. Our feelings, whatever they may be, deserve to be acknowledged and understood. We're in this together, Dawn."
"Yes, we are," Dawn agreed, her eyes holding a mixture of understanding and vulnerability. "But this goes beyond Jolinar. This goes all the way back to when we slept together on Halloween."
Tara nodded, acknowledging the depth of their shared history. "Yes," she said, her gaze thoughtful. "For a long time, we agreed to let things go as they should. Then you wanted to further your Jedi training, and so I became your Master in the Jedi arts. So the feelings got pushed to the backside. Now Jolinar is part of this, and the question remains, how does she change things?"
"I will love who you love and vice versa, Dawn," Jolinar's voice echoed within Dawn's mind, a promise that transcended the boundaries of time and existence.
Dawn repeated Jolinar's words, her voice carrying a mix of assurance and contemplation. "She said she loves who I love and vice versa. And that is evident in the fact that her previous hosts were always in love with Lantash's hosts until now."
The room held a quiet intensity as the three of them grappled with the intricacies of their intertwined feelings. Tara, Dawn's mentor and confidante, looked at her Padawan with a depth of care that extended beyond the realm of mentorship. Jolinar, the Tok'ra symbiote, added another layer to their connection, weaving the threads of their shared journey into a tapestry of emotions that reached back to a Halloween night that forever altered the course of their relationship.
Dawn's eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as Jolinar took over control of their shared body. The transformation was subtle, yet the presence of the Tok'ra symbiote brought a wisdom and ancient understanding that transcended the physical form they inhabited. "Dawn, Tara, I know from experience that this is a lot to process," she said, her voice carrying the weight of countless lifetimes. "But love is a complex force, transcending time and forms. What matters is how you choose to navigate it together."
Tara nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting a blend of understanding and reassurance. "You're right, of course, Jolinar." Her eyes followed Dawn's movements as the younger woman's head dropped to her chest, signaling Jolinar's gracious return of control to Dawn. The transition was seamless, a dance between two consciousnesses in a shared vessel. "We need to be honest with each other and ourselves."
Dawn, now back in control, nodded in agreement as she gazed into Tara's eyes. A gentle warmth filled the room, a sense of shared understanding and vulnerability. Cupping Tara's face with a tenderness that spoke volumes, Dawn leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that carried the weight of unspoken emotions.
"I'm in love with you, Tara Maclay," Dawn whispered when they broke the kiss, the words hanging in the air like a delicate promise.
Tara, her eyes reflecting both affection and a sense of responsibility, met Dawn's gaze with sincerity. She reached out, gently cupping Dawn's face, her touch a tender reassurance in the wake of Dawn's confession. "And I'm in love with you, Dawn Summers," Tara declared, leaning in to seal their shared sentiments with another kiss. The warmth of their connection lingered, a poignant acknowledgment of the depth of their feelings.
As they parted, Tara's expression turned thoughtful, a hint of concern creasing her brow. "We will have to protect our feelings for each other. Not only because we're Jedi. But because we could be used to get at each other by others with malevolent intent."
Dawn nodded, understanding the weight of Tara's words. The realities of their roles as Jedi and the potential threats that surrounded them added layers of complexity to their budding romance. "I understand," Dawn affirmed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and vulnerability. The recognition of the challenges ahead didn't diminish the sincerity of their emotions; instead, it underscored the need for caution in a world where external forces could exploit their vulnerabilities.
Tara offered a gentle smile, a silent acknowledgment of the shared responsibility they now carried. "Our connection is a source of strength, but we must also guard it from those who would seek to exploit it. We navigate this together, Dawn, with the Force as our guide and our hearts intertwined."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy stood in the doorway, silently observing Angel as he moved restlessly among her belongings. He seemed lost in thought, picking up one personal item after another, only to place each back down again. The room, filled with childhood toys and private treasures, became a landscape of memories, both cherished and painful.
Gingerly, Angel reached out toward a shelf, his fingers tracing the side of a plush pig. A sudden ache tightened his throat, and Buffy, witnessing his internal struggle, decided to make her presence known. She cleared her throat, a subtle signal that she was there. Angel jumped as if startled, his gaze locking onto Buffy. In his hands, he held her favorite stuffed animal—Mr. Gordo.
"Buffy," Angel sighed in relief. "You scared me."
Buffy couldn't help but smile as she stepped into the room. "Now you know what it feels like, stealth-guy." Her attempt at teasing carried a subtle edge, a reminder of the complexities that lingered between them. "So. Just dropping by for some quality time with Mr. Gordo?"
Angel looked blank, a hint of confusion furrowing his brow. "Excuse me?"
"The pig," Buffy supplied, motioning toward the plush toy pig in Angel's hand.
Angel looked down at the toy. "Oh, I, no—" Embarrassed, he quickly put it back on the shelf.
"What's up?" Buffy asked casually.
"Nothing," Angel replied.
Buffy tossed him a look. "You don't have a 'nothing' face. You have a 'something' face. So what's up?"
The banter fell away. Angel's face grew serious. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I had a bad feeling."
"What kind of bad feeling?" Buffy asked, her curiosity tinged with concern.
"Something has changed between us, hasn't it?" Angel asked, his gaze searching Buffy's face for confirmation. "Ever since you acquired those spaceships and met that military team."
Buffy sighed, her gaze drifting to a distant point as she navigated the complexities of her emotions. "A little. It's just been confusing, Angel. I slept with Xander on Halloween night. And now my emotions are a jumble on who I love and why. Do I still love you? Or do I love Xander because of Shira Brynn's memories telling me he's supposed to be my husband. I've been trying to sort them out, but…"
Angel listened quietly, sensing the weight of Buffy's internal struggle. The room seemed to hold its breath as she grappled with the tangled threads of her heart. The vulnerability in her admission brought a somber note to the air.
"Buffy," Angel began gently, "I know it's complicated. We both carry our pasts, our shared history, and now there's this added layer of memories from Shira Brynn. It's a lot to process."
Buffy nodded, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty in her expression. "I just want to know what's real, Angel. What I feel because it's genuinely me and not some cosmic mix-up."
Angel approached her cautiously, his eyes conveying understanding. "Love isn't always neat and straightforward. It's messy, confusing, and sometimes it defies logic. But deep down, you know your own heart."
Buffy met his gaze, gratitude evident in her eyes. "I just don't want to hurt anyone, especially not you or Xander."
Silence fell between them, a heavy pause pregnant with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Buffy lifted her head and gazed into the mirror beside her bed. In its reflective surface, she saw herself so clearly—the weary young woman grappling with the intricacies of her heart, attempting to decipher who she loved and why. However, in that reflective world, she stood alone, surrounded by the emptiness of her inner turmoil.
Angel's voice broke the stillness, a soft murmur that carried a weight of understanding. "I don't want you to feel conflicted."
Buffy watched his eyes travel to the mirror, and then slightly above it, where he seemed to notice something. A flicker of realization crossed his face, and he reached past her, plucking a photograph from the mirror's frame.
It was a younger Buffy captured in a moment of grace. The photograph depicted her figure skating, performing a perfect arabesque. The frozen image held a sense of innocence and joy, a stark contrast to the complexities of the present.
Buffy's face softened as she took the picture from him. "My Dorothy Hamill phase. My room in L.A. was this major shrine—Dorothy posters, Dorothy dolls. I even got the Dorothy haircut." She felt embarrassed. "Thereby securing a place for myself in the Geek Hall of Fame. Mom and Dad used to fight a lot. Back then I thought of course mom was human, I didn't understand why they fought not till Mom revealed herself to be Edenian. Anyway skating was an escape. I felt safe…" Her voice trailed away.
Angel carefully replaced the photo in the mirror frame, his gaze fixed on Buffy with a thoughtful intensity. "When was the last time you put on your skates?" he asked, with an odd gleam in his eyes and a half-smile playing on his face.
Buffy had to think. "Before the move to Sunnydale."
"There's a rink out past Route Seventeen." He took a step toward her. "It's closed on Tuesdays. I was thinking tomorrow you and I could meet there, and while you skate, you could think over everything and your feelings for me and Xander."
Buffy's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The proposal carried a touch of nostalgia and a hint of spontaneity, creating an unexpected contrast to the weight of their recent conversations.
"Skating under the stars," Angel continued, his expression sincere. "Just like old times. It might help you find clarity."
Buffy considered his suggestion, feeling a mixture of apprehension and a flicker of excitement. The idea of revisiting a simpler moment from her past, coupled with the opportunity to reflect on her feelings in the serene setting of a closed skating rink, appealed to her.
"I... I think that could be nice," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "A trip down memory lane might be just what I need."
Angel's half-smile widened, a subtle warmth in his eyes. "It's a date then. Tomorrow night, just you, me, and the ice."
As Buffy nodded in agreement, the prospect of rediscovering a forgotten joy became a glimmer of hope in the midst of her emotional turmoil. The promise of tomorrow held the potential for both self-discovery and a renewed connection with the past.