Charmed: Elizabeth Turner

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

Born with a sense of otherness, Elizabeth 'Buffy' Turner navigates her dual nature as a half-demon alongside her brother Cole, training rigorously to harness her powers while yearning for a life beyond servitude to the dark forces shaping their destiny.

7. Chapter 7: Innocence

Chapter 7: Innocence

January 21, 1998 – Wednesday

Summers Home

Buffy had been tempted to just shimmer into her bedroom, but she was sure Joyce was up and she wanted to see if Cole had returned from his mission in the Underworld. She stepped through the front door and closed it behind her, trying to quiet her racing thoughts.

Joyce's voice called out from the living room where she sat next to Cole, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Buffy replied, her tone a little more strained than she intended as she walked into the living room, her eyes scanning her brother's face for any sign of how his night had gone.

"So, did you have fun last night?" Joyce asked, her voice light and cheerful.

"Fun?" Buffy echoed, momentarily taken aback by the normalcy of the question.

"At Willow's," Joyce clarified, her smile warm and inviting.

"Yes, yes, fun at Willow's," Buffy said quickly, looping her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture. She was no longer wet, but she was definitely rumpled, her appearance hinting at the turbulent night she had endured. She kept her eyes wide, her smile innocent. "You know, she's a fun machine."

Joyce's concern was only mildly piqued. "You hungry?" she asked, ever the doting mother.

"Not really," Buffy said, glancing toward the stairs. "I'm just going to take a shower."

"Well, if you hurry, I'll run you to school," Joyce offered with another smile, her motherly instincts clearly at play.

"Thanks," Buffy replied quickly, already inching towards the staircase.

Cole, however, was not so easily dismissed. He took a closer look at his older sister, his brows knitting together in concern. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Buffy assured him, forcing a smile. "What would be wrong?"

But Cole was not convinced. "Joyce, could you give us a moment?" he asked. Joyce nodded, giving Buffy a curious glance before heading for the kitchen.

"What is it?" Cole said, his voice low and serious as he studied his sister's face.

Buffy's facade crumbled, the weight of the night's events pressing down on her. "Angel and I had sex last night, Cole. And this morning he was gone," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes filling with tears she fought to hold back.

Cole's expression shifted from concern to shock, and then to understanding. "Buffy," he began, his tone gentle, "did something happen? Did he say anything before he left?"

"No," Buffy said, shaking her head. "He was just… gone. And now, I don't know what to think. What if something terrible happened?"

Cole reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out," he promised. "But first, you need to take care of yourself. Get that shower, and then we'll talk more."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

When Buffy finished her shower, she wrapped herself in a soft, fluffy towel and padded to her bedroom, the steam from the bathroom trailing behind her. As she opened the door, she was met by the sight of Cole sitting on her bed, his expression a mix of concern and resolve.

"I have a bone to pick with you, little brother," she said, trying to sound stern but feeling a wave of relief that he was here, safe and sound. "Going to the Underworld was a risk you shouldn't have taken."

Cole looked up at her, his eyes steady. "I had to, Buffy. We needed information on the Judge, and there was no other way."

Buffy sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. "I know you're trying to help, but it's dangerous down there. The bounty hunters could have found you. If something had happened to you, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

Cole's face softened. "I get that you're worried, but I had to do something. We're all in this together, remember? And I did find out some important stuff about the Judge."

Buffy's eyebrows shot up. "Like what?"

Cole leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. "Like the fact that he potentially has a weakness. No weapon forged was supposed to be able to hurt him. But that was hundreds of years ago. Modern mortal weaponry has grown exponentially since then."

Sunnydale High

Giles was standing behind the checkout desk when Xander swung into the library, looking exhausted but determined. Cordelia was seated fetchingly on top of the counter, a big book on her lap, her legs crossed elegantly. Her eyes followed Xander's movements with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Well, the bus station was a total washout, and may I say what a lovely place to spend the night," Xander groused, sarcasm dripping from his words. "What a vibrant cross-section of Americana."

Giles looked up, his expression a mix of hope and dread. "No vampires transporting boxes?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

"No, but a four-hundred-pound wino offered to wash my hair," Xander informed him, shuddering at the memory. He turned around and saw Jenny and Willow standing by the book cage, their faces etched with worry. Alarm bells went off in his mind. "What's up? Where's Buffy?"

Willow's face was pale, her voice glum. "She never checked in."

Giles looked up from a notebook, his brow furrowed deeply. "If the bus depot is as empty as the docks and the airport—" He sounded very weary, and very worried, his shoulders slumped under the weight of the responsibility.

"Come on. Do you think this Judge guy's already been assembled?" Xander asked, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

"Yes," Giles said, defeated. He capped his pen with a heavy sigh.

"Then Buffy could be…" Xander said, trailing off as a wave of fear washed over him. "We've got to find them. We've got to go to that place, that factory. That's where they're holed up, right?" He turned to Willow and Jenny, his determination renewed. "Let's go."

Cordelia gazed at him in bewilderment, her brow furrowing. "And do what? Besides be afraid and die?" she said, her voice laced with sarcasm, but also genuine concern.

"Nobody's asking you to go, Cordelia," Xander retorted, his voice sharp with irritation. "If the vampires need grooming tips, we'll give you a call."

Cordelia lowered her eyes, a flicker of shame crossing her face. Her usually confident demeanor faltered, and she shifted uncomfortably.

Giles cleared his throat, stepping in to mediate. "Cordelia has a point. If Buffy and Angel were… harmed, we don't stand to fare much better. We need to be realistic about our chances."

Xander, too pumped and determined to be deterred by Giles's caution, shook his head vehemently. "Yeah, well, those of us who were born with feelings are going to do something about this."

Jenny, sensing the rising tension, reproved him gently. "Xander."

But before she could say more, Willow blurted out, her voice trembling with urgency and frustration, "No. Xander's right. My God! You people are all… well, I'm upset and I can't think of a mean word right now, but that's what you are and we're going to the factory!" She grabbed her bag and led the way, her determination blazing in her eyes.

"Yeah," Xander added, trailing behind her, his own resolve matching hers. "We're not just going to sit here."

At that precise moment, the library's double doors swung open, and Buffy and Cole walked through, their expressions a mix of relief and determination.

"Buffy!" Willow cried out, her voice a mixture of joy and surprise. She rushed to her friend, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

Xander, equally relieved, stepped forward. "We were just going to rescue you," he said, his voice softening as he took in Buffy's presence.

"Well, some of us were," Willow shot back, looking pointedly at Giles.

Giles bristled, feeling defensive. "I would have."

Jenny stepped up beside Willow, her eyes searching Buffy's face. "Where's Angel?"

"We don't know," Cole said quickly. "He and Buffy… got separated," he lied smoothly, not wanting to reveal the intimate details of the previous night.

Buffy's expression turned stricken as she faced Giles. "He didn't check in with you guys?"

"No," Giles responded, concern etching deeper lines into his face.

Cordelia slid off the counter, her curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

Giles took a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst. "The Judge… is he?"

"No assembly required," Buffy confirmed wearily. "He's active."

"Damnit," Giles muttered, pulling off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. His eyes, weary and filled with concern, glanced over the group.

"Angel got us out," Buffy said, her voice strained with worry and fatigue.

"Why didn't you call?" Giles asked more gently, his tone softening to that of a worried father. "We thought—"

"Well, uh, we had to hide," Buffy explained to the group, her eyes darting around anxiously. "We got stuck in the sewer tunnels, and with the hiding, we split up—and no one's heard from him?"

Willow stepped forward, her voice soothing and full of quiet reassurance. "I'm sure he'll come by."

"Yeah. I'm sure you're right," Buffy replied, though her voice wavered with uncertainty, betraying her inner turmoil.

"Buffy, the Judge," Giles hesitated, not wanting to sound callous but knowing the urgency of the situation. "We must stop him."

"I know," Buffy said, straightening up and slipping into Slayer mode, her expression hardening with resolve.

"What can you tell us?" Giles asked, his attention fully focused on her, ready to absorb any information that might give them an edge.

"Not much," she admitted reluctantly. "He touched me, tried to burn me. But he said because of my demon side, that I was unappetizing since it muddied my human side."

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of her words sinking in. Giles looked thoughtful, processing this new piece of information. "That's something, at least," he said slowly. "It means he's not invulnerable. There's a chink in his armor."

Willow nodded, her mind already working through the implications. "If your demon side can resist him, maybe there's a way we can use that to our advantage. Maybe we can find a way to protect ourselves."

"Cole found out a potential weakness," Buffy added, glancing at her brother with a flicker of hope in her eyes.

"When the Judge was originally disassembled, it was said that no mortal weapon could kill him," Cole explained, his tone serious and intense. "From what I learned in the Underworld, that may no longer be true. Mortal weaponry has evolved exponentially since then."

"In other words, maybe a rocket launcher or explosives could kill him," Buffy suggested, her mind racing with the possibilities.

Giles nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications. "It's worth exploring. Modern weaponry might just provide the edge we need."

"Okay, I'm going to…" Buffy started, but her sentence was abruptly cut off as a demon shimmered into the room, its presence bringing an immediate tension.

The demon, eyes glowing with malice, flung an energy ball at Cole. With reflexes honed from countless battles, Cole ducked out of the way just in time. Without missing a beat, he retaliated, hurling an energy ball back at the demon. The glowing sphere hit the demon squarely in the chest, causing it to convulse before vanishing into a cloud of ash and smoke.

"Damn bounty hunters," Cole muttered, his eyes scanning the room for any additional threats. He glanced at Buffy, his expression torn between concern and determination. "Maybe I should shimmer through a few dimensions for a while to throw them off my trail."

Buffy's eyes softened with sibling affection. "Stay safe, little brother," she said, her voice firm but tender.

"Promise," Cole replied, giving her a reassuring nod before shimmering out of sight.

The room was silent for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in even deeper. Buffy turned back to her friends and Giles, her resolve hardening. "I'm going to see if I can find Angel, see if he's alright. You guys work on the details of how to get the weaponry we need to tackle the Judge."

Xander, still processing the sudden appearance and disappearance of the demon, shook his head to clear it. "Okay, we'll get on it," he said, his voice tinged with determination.

Willow stepped closer to Buffy; her eyes filled with concern. "Be careful, Buffy," she urged. "We don't know what's out there."

"I will," Buffy promised, giving Willow a quick, reassuring smile. "Angel and I will be back before you know it."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Willow was on the phone with Buffy. Buffy was wigged; her search for Angel had been fruitless so far. "Okay… no, he didn't," Willow said on her end, her voice filled with concern. "But I'm sure he'll… Buffy, he probably has some plan and he's trying to protect you. Well, I don't know what, I'm not in on the plan, it's his plan. No. Don't even say that. Angel is not dead."

Xander looked up from his assigned research book, a hint of irritation in his eyes. They were trying to figure out what modern weapons might work against the Judge. "Say hi for me."

Willow frowned at his extreme tackiness. "Yes, we'll be here. Of course. Okay. Bye." She hung up and looked askance at her best friend since childhood. "'Say hi for me?'"

Xander let it go by. "What's the word?"

Willow's worry was palpable. "She's checked every place she could think of. She even beat up Willy the Snitch a couple of times. Angel's vanished."

Behind her, Giles emerged from his office, his face a mask of concern. "But he does do that on occasion, no?"

"Yeah, but she's extra wigged this time," Willow said, her voice trembling slightly. "I guess 'cause of her dreams. God, what if something really happened to him?"

Xander kept his gaze on his book, trying to mask his own anxiety, as Giles asked, "Is she going to join us here?"

"Yes. She's just stopping at home first." Frowning, Willow returned to the big, thick book she was slogging through, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her.

Summers Home

Buffy trudged to the front door of her house, her steps heavy with exhaustion and dread. She stood and stared at the three rectangles of glass set in the door, the distorted reflections of her worried face staring back at her. Her heart pounded in her chest, the beat echoing like a drum in the still night air. She was numb with fear, a cold shiver running down her spine, and her mind swirled with dizzying confusion.

Each breath she took felt labored, as if the weight of her emotions were pressing down on her chest. She reached out a trembling hand to the door, fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface. The warm light from inside cast a comforting glow, promising safety and solace. She could hear the faint murmur of voices within, her mother's laughter mingling with the hum of a television show.

But she could not go in. She would not allow herself the comfort of home, not when the whereabouts of Angel—whether he was alive or dead—remained unknown. The thought of curling up in her bed, safe and sound, while Angel's fate hung in the balance, was unbearable. She felt a pang of guilt, sharp and relentless, gnawing at her insides.

Resolutely, she turned her back on the door, the warmth, and the promise of safety it held. The night air wrapped around her like a shroud, cold and unforgiving. She squared her shoulders and walked back into the night, her footsteps echoing in the empty street.

Angel's Apartment

A short time later, Buffy quietly let herself into Angel's apartment. The familiar stillness enveloped her, a silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the city beyond the windows. The room was bathed in muted tones, the gentle glow of the lighting casting an antique sheen on everything it touched. The gleaming statue in its glass case, the plush armchair that reminded her of classic black-and-white movies set in old New York—it all seemed to belong to another time, another world.

Her gaze drifted to the bed, where the crimson pillows and coverlet lay in a state of disarray. She recognized them immediately—these were the very things he had given her to wear, neatly folded and placed upon his bed. The sight brought a rush of memories, both tender and troubling.

Then, a noise caught her attention, and she turned to see him. Angel emerged from behind a partition screen, his broad shoulders and toned chest bare, save for a few strands of dark hair. He was in black leather pants, the sleek material accentuating his powerful frame, and he was adjusting a silver chain around his neck.

"Angel!" Buffy's voice trembled with emotion as she ran toward him, her heart soaring with a mix of relief and joy. She threw her arms around him with a fervent embrace, as if afraid that if she let go, he might vanish once more. It was almost surreal—seeing him there, alive and real, made her feel as if she were spinning, caught in a dream she didn't want to wake from.

"Hey," Angel responded pleasantly, his eyes softening with affection as he returned her embrace.

"Oh, Angel, oh, God, I was so worried," Buffy choked out, her voice muffled against his chest. She clung to him tightly, her arms wrapping around him as if she could merge with him and never let go.

"Didn't mean to frighten you," Angel said with a small, reassuring smile. His voice was soothing, but there was a hint of something deeper, something she couldn't quite decipher.

"Where did you go?" Buffy's voice broke as tears of relief streamed down her cheeks, her emotions spilling over in a flood of gratitude and frustration.

"Been around," Angel said cryptically, his tone casual.

Buffy hugged him again, the need to be close to him almost overwhelming. "I was freaking out. You just disappeared," she reproached him, her voice a mix of exasperation and elation. Despite her reproach, there was an undeniable edge of happiness and a trace of possessive lecture mode in her tone, as though she was both relieved and slightly indignant at his sudden absence.

"What? I took off," Angel said with a nonchalant shrug, his tone devoid of any real concern.

"But you didn't say anything," Buffy said, her voice tinged with confusion. "You just left without a word."

Angel began to slip into a gray silk shirt, its smooth fabric catching the dim light. He glanced at her with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "Yeah, like I really wanted to stick around after that."

Buffy's mind reeled, her thoughts stuttering as if she'd been struck. "Wh—what?" Her voice barely above a whisper, she tried to process the implications of his casual demeanor.

"You've got a lot to learn about men," Angel continued, his tone almost patronizing. He raised an eyebrow and gave a small, embarrassed smirk, as if he was regretting the whole conversation. "Although I guess you proved that last night."

Buffy felt a wave of shock and denial wash over her. 'This can't be happening. He couldn't have just said what I think he did,' she thought, her heart sinking into a pit of despair. "What are you saying?" she asked aloud, her voice cracking with the effort to stay composed.

"Let's not make an issue out of it, okay? In fact, let's just not talk about it at all," Angel said with a dismissive shrug. "Hey, it happened."

"I don't understand," Buffy said, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. She had come to him with trust and love, believing in the depth of their connection. But now, the way he was treating her made her question everything. "Was it me?" she asked in a small, hurt voice. "Was I... not good?"

Angel's laughter rang out, startling in its volume and insensitivity. "You were great. Really." He leered at her with a smirk that made her skin crawl. "I thought you were a pro."

Buffy's world seemed to crumble around her. She clenched her jaw tightly to keep from bursting into tears, her stomach knotting with a painful mixture of hurt and anger. She was shaking uncontrollably. "How can you say these things to me?" she asked, her voice breaking. Each word was a struggle, laden with her disillusionment.

"Lighten up," Angel said with a careless wave of his hand. "It was a good time." He rolled his eyes, as if the matter was trivial and unworthy of further discussion. "Doesn't mean we have to make a big deal out of it."

"It is a big deal!" Buffy cried out, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotions. "It's—it's—"

"What's it supposed to be?" Angel mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Bells ringing? Fireworks? A dulcet choir of pretty little birdies?" He sniggered, his laughter hollow and cruel. "Come on, Buffy." He leaned into her, his hand reaching out to mockingly chuck her under the chin. "It's not like I've never been there before."

Buffy recoiled, taking a step back as if struck. "Don't touch me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mix of hurt and disbelief.

Angel's smirk widened, his expression a mask of indifferent cruelty. "I should have known you wouldn't be able to handle it," he said dismissively, as if her feelings were inconsequential.

"Angel!" Buffy's voice was a desperate plea, her gaze fixed on him with a mix of longing and anguish. Her heart reached out to him one more time, unable to fathom the possibility that the person she loved was treating her with such callousness. "I love you."

"Love ya too," Angel drawled, his voice lacking any genuine warmth. He turned toward the door, opening it with a casual flick of his wrist. His back was turned to her, his posture nonchalant. "I'll call you," he said, his words a hollow promise as he sauntered out of the room. He didn't even glance over his shoulder, leaving her alone with her shattered hopes.

Buffy stood there, her body trembling with the intensity of her pain and shock. She felt as though she had been cast adrift in a stormy sea, the turbulent waves of her emotions crashing around her. The cold, dark room seemed to close in on her, the once familiar space now a stark backdrop to her devastation. It was as if the world had ended, leaving her to navigate the desolation of her own broken heart.

Halliwell Manor

Buffy shimmered onto the front porch of the Manor, her heart heavy and her eyes red-rimmed from tears. She knocked on the door, each rap sounding like a plea for solace. A moment later, Prue Halliwell opened the door, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern at the sight of Buffy's tear-streaked face.

"What are you doing here?" Prue asked, her voice gentle but puzzled.

"Is Phoebe home?" Buffy's voice wavered, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

"She's at class," Prue answered, taking in Buffy's disheveled appearance and the pain etched on her face. Though she didn't fully understand the extent of Buffy's anguish, she felt a surge of empathy for the half-demon girl standing before her. "Come in, Buffy." Prue's voice softened as she stepped aside, holding the door open wider.

Buffy entered the Manor, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in her bones. Prue closed the door gently behind her and led her into the cozy living room. The familiar scent of sage and the comforting ambience of the room seemed to wrap around Buffy like a tender embrace.

"What is wrong?" Prue asked, her concern deepening as she observed the turmoil in Buffy's eyes.

Buffy hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the words to convey the depth of her despair. "It's Angel," she finally whispered, her voice breaking. "He's…he's not the same. He was so cruel. I don't understand what happened. One moment, everything was perfect, and the next… he was gone, and when I found him, he was… he wasn't the Angel I knew."

Prue's brow furrowed as she listened, her heart aching for Buffy. "I'm so sorry," she said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze Buffy's hand. "Why don't you sit down and tell me everything?"

Buffy nodded, her gratitude evident in her eyes as she took a seat on the plush sofa. The room felt safe, a sanctuary where she could finally let down her guard. Prue sat beside her, giving her the space and support she needed.

As Buffy recounted the events of the past night, her voice trembled with emotion. She told Prue about her desperate search for Angel, the devastating confrontation in his apartment, and the heart-wrenching cruelty that had shattered her trust.

Prue listened intently, her own emotions a tumultuous mix of empathy and anger on Buffy's behalf. "It sounds like something must have happened to Angel," she said thoughtfully. "The man you described doesn't sound like the Angel you love. Maybe there's some kind of spell or dark influence at work."

Buffy looked at Prue, a glimmer of hope piercing through her despair. "You think so?"

"It's possible," Prue replied, her tone resolute. "We've seen stranger things. And if that's the case, we'll figure it out and we'll help him. You're not alone in this, Buffy."

Buffy felt a surge of relief at Prue's words. The weight of her heartache didn't disappear, but it felt more bearable knowing she had someone to lean on. "Thank you, Prue," she said softly, her voice tinged with gratitude and a hint of surprise. "Though I have to say, it surprises me how compassionate you are with me. I am, after all, part-demon."

Prue's expression softened even more, her eyes filled with understanding and warmth. "Buffy, compassion isn't about what you are. It's about who you are. While, yes, I don't trust you or your brother completely because you are demons, I also see the woman before me, who is hurting."

Buffy's eyes widened slightly at Prue's candor. She felt a mix of vulnerability and relief. "I understand why you'd feel that way," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Sometimes, I don't trust myself either. But I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to be more than just the demon part of me."

Prue reached out and gently placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "It's not easy, I know. But what matters is that you're trying. You're not letting your darker side define you. That takes incredible strength, Buffy. And I respect that."

Buffy's shoulders relaxed slightly under Prue's comforting touch. "I've always had to fight. Fight against evil, fight against my own nature. But what Angel said... it broke something inside me."

Prue's eyes flickered with empathy. "Words can be powerful, especially when they come from someone we love. But don't let his cruelty define your worth. You're more than what he said, more than what he made you feel."

Buffy nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't know what to do now. I feel lost."

Prue gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You take one step at a time. You lean on those who care about you."

Enyo's Place

Jenny Calendar sat in the overstuffed armchair in her uncle's furnished room, feeling the weight of her mission pressing down on her shoulders. She was here to seek answers, but so far, her uncle Enyos was the one probing with questions.

"Do you know what it is, this thing called vengeance?" Enyos asked, his voice heavy with ancient authority.

"Uncle, I have served you," Jenny said urgently, leaning forward in her seat. "I've been faithful. I need to know."

Enyos ignored her plea, his eyes distant as he delved into the past. "To the modern man, vengeance is an idea, a word. Payback. One thing for another, like commerce." He raised his finger, emphasizing the gravity of his words. "Not with us. Vengeance is a living thing. It passes through generations. It commands. It kills."

Jenny tried again, desperation creeping into her voice. "You told me to watch Angel. You told me to keep him from the Slayer. I tried. But there are other factors, there are terrible things happening here that we cannot control."

"We control nothing," Enyos said incredulously, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "We are not wizards, Janna. We merely play our part."

Jenny looked up at him, willing him to be reasonable, to truly hear her. "Angel could be of help to us. He may be the only chance we've got to stop the Judge."

"It is too late for that." Enyos' lined face was sad as he sat on his narrow bed, the weight of their shared history and burdens apparent in his tired eyes.

Jenny felt a chill run down her spine. "Why?"

"The curse. Angel was meant to suffer. Not to live as human. One moment of true happiness, of contentment... one moment where the soul that we restored no longer plagues his thoughts—and that soul is taken from him," Enyos explained, his voice heavy with the implications.

"Then somehow if… if it's happened…" Jenny lowered her eyes, her thoughts swirling chaotically as she processed the implications. The horrifying possibility that Angel had found true happiness with Buffy. "Then Angelus is back."

Enyos' voice was hollow with resignation. "I hoped to stop it. But I realize now it was arranged to be so."

"Buffy loves him," Jenny said, her words a desperate plea, filled with anguish and fear.

"And now she will have to kill him," Enyos stated, his tone flat and unyielding. It was a stark, unassailable fact.

Jenny jumped to her feet, her emotions a storm of frustration and despair. "Unless he kills her first! Uncle, this is insanity!" She gestured wildly with her hands, unable to fathom how he could just sit there, so calm, so indifferent, letting this catastrophe unfold. "People are going to die."

"Yes. It is not justice that we serve. It is vengeance." Enyos said it with a serene calmness that only deepened Jenny's despair.

She could see there was no dissuading him. The path had been chosen generations ago, and he would not stray from it. The realization filled her with a bitter mix of anger and defeat. "You're a fool. We're all fools." Her voice trembled with emotion as she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the room.

Enyos made no move to stop her. His eyes, however, reflected a deep, unspoken sorrow as he watched her go.

Sunnydale High

Xander came out of the bathroom as Willow was walking slowly down the corridor, her steps heavy with unspoken emotion. "Will!" he called, his voice echoing slightly in the empty hall.

Willow hugged herself, a defensive gesture that spoke volumes about her state of mind, and faced him. "Hey," she said coolly, her eyes avoiding his. She had found him and Cordelia kissing earlier, a betrayal that still stung.

"Where did you go?" Xander asked, his voice soft, trying to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

"Home," Willow replied shortly, her tone clipped.

"I'm glad you came back," Xander said earnestly. "We can't do this without you."

Willow didn't smile. She kept her expression guarded, her eyes hard. "Let's get this straight." Her voice was firm, her resolve clear. "I don't understand it. I don't want to understand it. You have gross emotional problems and things are not okay between us."

Xander felt the sting of her words, but he accepted them. He didn't like it, and it hurt deeply, but he knew he deserved her anger.

"But what's happening right now is more important than that," Willow finished, a note of resignation in her voice. Her eyes flashed with determination, but there was a sadness there too, a recognition of the necessity to put personal feelings aside for the greater good.

"Okay," Xander said. His heart ached with the words he wanted to say but couldn't. Oh Will, he wanted to cry out, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. I never meant for it to happen.

But Willow had already shifted gears, becoming all business. The time for heartfelt apologies had passed. "What about the Judge? Where do we stand?" she asked, her focus now on the pressing danger they faced.

"A Rocket Launcher might work," Xander said, grateful for the shift in topic. "The problem is acquiring one."

"You had that soldier personality on Halloween," Willow said thoughtfully, her mind racing through the possibilities. "Might you be able to…" She trailed off as the lights in the hallway flickered and then went out, plunging them into darkness.

Xander's pulse quickened. "I'm having a wiggins," he admitted, his voice tense.

"What's going on?" Willow asked anxiously, her eyes straining to adjust to the sudden gloom.

Xander took her arm, guiding her as they both started cautiously down the corridor. "Let's get back to the library," he suggested, his grip on her arm firm but reassuring.

"Willow? Xander?" A soft voice called out behind them, gentle yet urgent.

They turned, their eyes narrowing to make out the silhouette of a tall figure standing beside the dimly illuminated trophy case.

"Angel," Xander said, his tension easing slightly. He was relieved to see someone they knew, even if Angel's presence was often a mixed blessing. Sort of a friend, he thought to himself.

"Thank God you're okay!" Willow cried, rushing forward. "Did you see Buffy?"

"Yeah." Angel's voice was calm and collected, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. He glanced around, his eyes taking in the darkened hallway. "What's up with the lights?"

"I don't know," Xander said, gesturing for Angel's attention. "Listen, we have an idea—"

"Forget about that," Angel interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I've got something to show you." He gestured toward the closed doors behind him with his shoulder, his expression serious.

"Show us?" Willow echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion as she tried to decipher Angel's cryptic demeanor.

"Yes," Angel said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Xander, go get the others."

Xander didn't need to be told twice. "Okay." He took off down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the darkness as he sprinted towards the library.

"And Willow, come here," Angel said, his voice carrying an unsettling undercurrent that she couldn't quite place.

Willow hesitated for a moment, then started walking toward him. "What is it, Angel?" she asked, trying to peer through the shadows that cloaked his expression.

"It's amazing," he promised, his voice softening, laced with an almost mesmerizing quality.

Willow kept walking, drawn by the promise in his words, though a small voice in the back of her mind warned her to be cautious. She wanted to believe that whatever Angel had discovered would be a breakthrough, something that could help them against the Judge.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Further down the corridor, beyond the set of heavy wooden doors, a strange feeling passed through Xander like a cold draft.

Something's not right.

The nagging sensation gnawed at him, making his stomach churn. He paused, his footsteps echoing in the now eerily quiet hallway. His mind raced, replaying the brief exchange with Angel and the unsettling atmosphere that had seemed to cling to him.

"Dammit," Xander muttered under his breath, his concern growing. His gut had been right about weirdness before, and he wasn't about to ignore it now. He turned on his heel, his frown deepening as he started back towards where he had left Willow with Angel.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Willow had almost reached Angel, her steps hesitant but trusting.

"Willow, get away from him." The sharp command cut through the tension like a knife. Jenny Calendar stood at the end of the corridor, gripping a large wooden cross with white-knuckled determination.

"What?" Willow turned to face her, confusion written all over her features. The sight of her teacher brandishing a cross made no sense.

"Walk to me," Jenny said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Willow didn't get it. Her brow furrowed in hesitation, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

But then Angel growled, a low, menacing sound that sent shivers down Willow's spine. In an instant, he had her in his grip, one hand clamped around her neck, the other digging into her shoulder.

Willow struggled, her eyes wide with fear as he practically choked the breath out of her. She tried to pull away, but his strength was overwhelming.

Xander burst through the doors, his eyes widening in horror at the scene. He skidded to a stop beside Jenny, panic surging through him. "Don't do that!" he shouted, desperation clear in his voice.

"Oh, I think I do that," Angel said viciously, his voice dripping with malice.

Willow looked up at him, her eyes pleading. He was in full vamp face, his eyes glowing golden with a cruel, twisted amusement. "Angel…" she pleaded, her voice a desperate whisper.

"He's not Angel anymore. Are you?" Jenny asked in a cold, hard voice, her eyes narrowing.

"Wrong. I am Angel," Angel retorted, his voice dripping with a cruel savagery that made it clear he was far from the man they once knew. "At last."

"Oh, my God," Xander breathed, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.

"I've got a message for Buffy," Angel continued, his grip on Willow tightening to the point of causing her pain.

"Then why don't you give it to me yourself?" came Buffy's voice from behind Angel, calm but laced with deadly intent.

Angel whirled around, pulling Willow with him, his eyes locking onto Buffy. She stood there, her stance fierce and her eyes blazing with a determination to protect her friend. Willow allowed herself a glimmer of hope that she might survive this nightmare, but the pain from Angel's iron grip was a harsh reminder of the peril she was in.

"Well, it's not really the kind of message you tell," Angel informed Buffy with a sneer. "It sort of involves finding the bodies of all your friends." He squeezed Willow harder, making her cry out in terror.

"You know, if this had been after our meeting earlier this evening, I would have said this can't be you," Buffy said, her voice steady despite the anger burning within her. "But after talking with someone in San Francisco, I've realized this isn't you. Not anymore."

"That's right, your boyfriend is dead," Angel sneered, his eyes glinting with malevolent glee. "You're all gonna join him."

Behind Angel, Xander took the cross from Jenny and began advancing on the vampire, his face set with grim determination.

"Leave Willow alone and deal with me," Buffy ordered, her voice as cold as steel.

"But she's so cute." Angel pinched Willow's cheek, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Willow gasped, her fear palpable. "And helpless," he added, his tone growing husky, insinuating. His Claddagh ring caught the light, the symbol of his past love twisted into a grotesque mockery. "It's really a turn-on."

Xander saw his chance and made his move. Darting around Angel's right, he shoved the cross into Angel's face. Angel roared with fury, his vampiric visage contorting with rage, and flung Willow at Xander. They both slammed into the wall and collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Furious, Angel advanced on Buffy. Her form rippled, her human guise dissolving to reveal her demonic form, Nyxara. Her eyes burned with a fierce, unearthly light, and her skin shimmered with dark power. Before Nyxara could launch an attack, Angel grabbed her, bringing his face close to hers, their noses almost touching.

"Things are about to get very interesting," he whispered, his breath hot and rancid with malevolence. Then, in a move that shocked everyone, he kissed her hard, a kiss filled with contempt and loathing. The force of it bruised her lips, his fangs grazing her mouth. He threw her away from himself with a disdainful shove.

Nyxara hit the floor, her back smacking the wall with a resounding thud. Pain flared through her, but it was drowned out by the surge of her rage. She leapt to her feet, her eyes blazing, and flung an energy ball at Angel. But he was already backing through the exit doors, savoring his handiwork, and the energy ball hit the closing doors instead, sending splinters flying.

Xander and Willow scrambled to Nyxara's side, their faces etched with concern. "Buffy," Xander demanded urgently, "are you okay?"

"I am fine," Nyxara rumbled, her voice deep and filled with anger. She stared at the doors through which Angel had left, her eyes narrowing with a deadly promise. The demonic aura around her pulsed, a dark, menacing energy that made the air crackle. "But he won't be for long."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

After Angel split, everyone convened in the library. Giles paced around the study desk; his usual composure frayed at the edges. Jenny Calendar looked on, her face a mask of concern. Buffy and the others were seated at the table, with Willow and Xander staring down, their expressions a mix of misery and fear.

"And we're absolutely certain that Angel has reverted to his former self?" Giles queried; his voice taut with anxiety.

"Yeah, we're all certain. Anybody not feeling certain here?" Xander asked very seriously, his eyes scanning the room for any hint of doubt.

"Giles, you wouldn't have believed him. He was so…" Willow took a breath as it all sank in, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He came here to kill us."

Cordelia grimaced at Willow's words; her own fear mirrored in her eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm leaning toward blind panic, myself," Giles muttered, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache.

Jenny frowned at him. "Rupert, don't talk like that. The kids."

"I'm sorry." Giles struggled to compose himself, his hand moving to rub his forehead. "It's just, things are bad enough with the Judge here. Angel crossing over to the other side… I just wasn't prepared for that."

Jenny murmured, her voice laced with a shared sorrow, "None of us were."

"I should have known," Buffy said, her voice a mixture of guilt and anger. "I saw him at his apartment. He was… different. The things he said…"

Giles leaned forward, ready to take notes, his eyes narrowing with focused intent. "What things?"

Buffy's form rippled, her human guise dissolving as she changed into her demonic form, Nyxara. Her eyes darkened, and her voice rumbled with a deep, otherworldly timbre. "It's private," she said, her tone carrying a weight of unspeakable pain and violation.

"But you didn't know he had turned bad?" Jenny asked, her voice hesitant but probing, as she focused on the half-demon in front of her.

Willow looked from Nyxara to the teacher, her brows furrowed in confusion. "How did you?"

"What?" Jenny said, her eyes widening slightly.

"You knew," Willow said slowly, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "You told me to get away from him."

Jenny shrugged, attempting to downplay her foreknowledge. "Well, I saw his face."

Giles, ever the analyst, continued his train of thought. "If we only knew how it happened."

That caught Nyxara's attention. "What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes locking onto him as he sat at the table.

"Well, something set it off," Giles explained, leaning forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "Some event must have triggered his transformation. If anyone would know, Buffy, it should be you. Did anything happen last night that—"

"Do not ask, Giles," Nyxara interrupted, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. "I said it was private."

"Buffy, I'm sorry, but we can't afford to—" Giles began, his voice tinged with urgency.

Before he could finish, Nyxara shimmered out of the room, leaving a palpable silence in her wake.

Willow's gaze locked on the empty space where Nyxara had been. Her face paled as the realization crashed over her, a wave of cold dread and understanding. She knew what had happened. She knew what had triggered Angel's transformation. Her best friend had slept with Angel. She turned to Giles, her voice deadly calm, barely more than a whisper yet carrying the weight of her new understanding. "Giles, shut up," she said levelly.

January 22, 1998 – Thursday

Halliwell Manor

"Hey, Prue? Piper?" Phoebe called out, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of concern. She stood in the living room of the Manor, staring at the claddagh ring resting on the coffee table.

"Yeah?" Prue and Piper replied in unison as they joined their younger sister.

"Whose ring is this?" Phoebe asked, motioning toward the silver band with its distinctive heart, hands, and crown design.

Prue stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the piece of jewelry. "That must be Buffy's," she said with certainty.

"Buffy?" Piper echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "She was here?"

"Yeah, she shimmered over here yesterday," Prue explained. "She was really distraught. Her boyfriend, who happens to be a vampire, slept with her and then suddenly turned mean."

Phoebe's eyes widened with a mix of sympathy and shock. "Oh no, poor Buffy," she said softly. "What did she say?"

"She was a mess," Prue continued, her tone somber. "She told me he went from being loving and caring to cruel and heartless overnight. She couldn't understand why."

Piper sat down on the couch; her expression thoughtful. "That sounds terrible. Did she say anything else?"

Prue shook her head. "Not much. She was too upset. She kept talking about how he'd been her everything and now he's her worst nightmare. She was afraid for her friends, for herself."

Phoebe gently picked up the ring, turning it over in her fingers. "This must mean so much to…" Her voice trailed off as a sudden, intense wave of energy surged through her, pulling her into a premonition.

In her mind's eye, Phoebe saw a veiled woman standing in a desolate cemetery. The woman was dressed entirely in black, her somber attire matching the heavy, sorrowful atmosphere. Slowly, she pulled the dark veil away from her face, revealing eyes brimming with sadness and regret. She stared down at a grave, its tombstone starkly etched with the name "Kalderash."

The scene was poignant, filled with unspoken grief and a deep sense of loss. The woman's expression conveyed a history of pain and a burden that seemed almost unbearable.

Abruptly, Phoebe was yanked back to the present. She gasped for breath, her body trembling from the force of the vision. Prue and Piper were instantly at her side, steadying her.

"What did you see?" Piper asked urgently, her voice a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Phoebe took a moment to collect herself, her heart still racing from the vividness of the premonition. "I saw a woman," she began, her voice shaky but gaining strength with each word. "She was veiled, dressed in black, standing in a cemetery. She looked so sad, so heartbroken. She pulled her veil back and stared at a grave. The name on the tombstone was Kalderash."

"Kalderash," Prue repeated, the name striking a chord deep within her memory. She turned abruptly and hurried upstairs, the urgency in her steps echoing her growing determination. "That name sounds familiar," she called back to her sisters, her voice carrying a note of urgency and curiosity.

Piper and Phoebe followed closely behind her, their curiosity piqued. As they reached the attic, the familiar, comforting scent of aged paper and ancient magic enveloped them. Prue wasted no time, striding purposefully to the pedestal where the Book of Shadows rested, its thick, leather-bound cover seeming to pulse with latent power.

Prue opened the book, her fingers deftly flipping through the timeworn pages. The rustling of parchment filled the room, a sound both comforting and electric with anticipation. She moved swiftly, guided by a mixture of intuition and the echoes of past encounters recorded within the book. Finally, she landed on the page she sought.

"Kalderash," she read aloud, her eyes scanning the intricate script and hand-drawn illustrations that accompanied the entry. "A Romani tribe, known for their powerful magic and deep-seated traditions. At the turn of the century, they cursed a vampire—"

Piper leaned in, her brow furrowed as she read over Prue's shoulder. "A vampire cursed by the Kalderash clan to suffer eternally by regaining his soul," she finished, her voice hushed with the weight of the revelation. "That must be Angel."

Phoebe, still shaken by her premonition, nodded slowly. "It makes sense. The woman I saw in my vision was mourning at a grave marked 'Kalderash.' The curse must be tied to their clan."

Prue's fingers traced the ornate lettering on the page, her mind racing. "The curse was meant to make the vampire suffer for his crimes by restoring his soul, forcing him to live with the guilt of his actions. But if he experiences a moment of true happiness, the curse is broken, and he reverts to his soulless state."

Piper's eyes widened in realization. "That's what happened. Buffy and Angel… they must have had a moment of true happiness, and it broke the curse."

Phoebe's expression was a mix of sadness and resolve. "Buffy loves him. She wouldn't have known. She couldn't have."

Prue closed the book gently, her face set with determination. "We need to find this woman from your vision, Phoebe. She might know more about the curse and how we can help Angel. We need to understand if there's any way to restore his soul again."

Piper nodded, her resolve matching her sisters'. "And we need to do it fast. If Angel is truly Angelus now, he's a danger to everyone. Especially Buffy."

"LEO!" Prue's voice rang out, filled with urgency and a touch of desperation. The air shimmered, and a second later, Leo materialized in the room, his expression immediately concerned as he took in the tense atmosphere.

"What's wrong?" Leo asked, glancing around at the three sisters, sensing the gravity of the situation.

"Leo, we need you to orb us to Sunnydale," Prue said, her voice steady but urgent. "And we need to go fast."

Leo's eyes widened slightly. "Sunnydale? What happened?"

"Angel has lost his soul and reverted to his former self, Angelus," Prue explained quickly. "Cole's sister Buffy is in danger, and we need to get there to help her."

Phoebe stepped forward; her voice strained with worry. "I had a vision, Leo. It's connected to the Kalderash clan and the curse they placed on Angel. We think there might be a way to restore his soul, but we have to act quickly."

Leo nodded; his expression resolute. "Okay, everyone hold on to me."

Piper, Phoebe, and Prue each grabbed onto Leo's arm, their faces set with determination. As they made contact, the familiar sensation of orbing washed over them, the attic of the Manor dissolving into a swirl of blue and white lights.

"According to the Elders, this should be her home," Leo announced as they materialized on the front porch of the Summers' residence, the familiar suburban setting starkly contrasting with the urgency of their mission.

Piper glanced at Leo with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "When did you find that out?"

Leo took a deep breath, preparing to explain. "After you and Prue talked to her back in November. The Elders had been keeping tabs, given that her human half is the Slayer. They wanted me to be available as a liaison, in case she kept her promise to try to gain your trust. They thought it would be crucial to have a neutral party involved."

Piper nodded, processing this information as Leo lifted his hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet night, and after a moment, the door creaked open.

Buffy stood on the threshold, her face lighting up with a mixture of surprise and palpable relief as she took in the sight of the Halliwells. "Prue, Phoebe, Piper… what are you doing here?"

"We're here to help," Prue said, stepping forward with a determined look. "We know what happened with Angel. Phoebe had a premonition that might hold the key to fixing this."

Phoebe took a deep breath, the weight of the vision still heavy on her shoulders. She recounted the premonition with precision. "I saw a woman, dressed in black, mourning at a grave with the name Kalderash. We believe that the Kalderash clan might be connected to reversing the curse and restoring Angel's soul."

Buffy's gaze sharpened as she processed the new information. "What did this woman look like?" she asked urgently.

Phoebe described the woman from her vision with detailed precision.

Buffy's eyes widened as she connected the description to someone she knew. "That sounds like Miss Calendar. She's the computer science teacher at Sunnydale High School—Jenny Calendar."

Sunnydale High

Buffy stormed down the halls of Sunnydale High, her footsteps echoing with a purposeful rhythm that cut through the chatter of students milling around her. The Halliwells and Leo trailed behind her, their faces set in grim determination. Buffy's focus remained razor-sharp as she barreled into the main building, her path clear and unwavering. The crowd of students parted in silent confusion, watching the unusual procession with wary eyes.

Without pausing for a breath, Buffy led the way down the familiar corridor, her heels clicking briskly against the polished tile floor. The group followed her into the computer science classroom, where students were just beginning to settle into their seats. The soft murmur of conversation filled the room, punctuated by the clatter of chairs and the rustling of notebooks.

In the middle of this normalcy, Buffy moved with a fierce efficiency. Her gaze locked onto Miss Calendar, who was engaged in a quiet exchange with Giles. Buffy's resolve was like steel as she pushed past her Watcher, who looked up with a mix of surprise and concern. "Buffy…" Giles began, his voice tinged with confusion.

Without hesitation, Buffy reached for Jenny Calendar, her movements swift and decisive. She wrapped her fingers around Jenny's neck and, with a powerful shove, slammed her back onto the desk. The sudden force sent pencils and diskettes scattering in every direction, creating a chaotic mess of office supplies across the floor. The classroom erupted in shocked gasps and the clatter of falling objects.

"Buffy!" Giles shouted, his hand reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to restrain her. But Buffy was unmoved, her eyes cold and unyielding as they locked onto Jenny. The intensity of her gaze spoke of a singular, relentless purpose that brooked no interruption.

"What do you know?" Buffy demanded, her voice low and dangerous, slicing through the stunned silence of the room.

The students, wide-eyed and frozen, looked on in horror. One of them, clearly overwhelmed by the unfolding drama, hesitated for a moment before tentatively lifting his earphones and half-rising from his seat. "Should I get the principal?" he called out, his voice wavering.

Giles shot a brief, urgent glance at the student. "No. I'll handle this," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He turned his attention back to Buffy and Jenny, trying to defuse the situation while maintaining control.

Buffy, her grip unwavering, held Jenny in place for a moment longer before releasing her. Jenny stumbled back, her face flushed with a mix of shock and indignation. Buffy's gaze remained locked on her, a piercing stare that conveyed her unrelenting focus.

"You're all dismissed," Giles instructed the class, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of urgency. The students, eager to escape the tense atmosphere, filed out quickly, their whispers and glances lingering as they left.

As the classroom emptied, the air grew heavy with anticipation and the weight of unspoken questions. Buffy's demeanor remained steely, her confrontation with Jenny only just beginning.

Prue stepped forward, her presence commanding as she stood beside Giles. "I am Prue Halliwell," she introduced herself with a firm resolve. "These are my sisters, Piper and Phoebe. We believe your colleague here holds crucial information about why Angel has reverted to his former self."

Buffy's gaze remained fixed on Jenny, her voice edged with frustration and urgency. "Did you know what was going to happen when I…?"

Jenny, visibly shaken, hesitated before responding. "I didn't know… exactly," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Giles, still grappling with the shock of the revelation, waited in tense silence, hoping Jenny would provide further explanation. His eyes darted between Buffy and Jenny, his concern deepening as the truth began to surface.

Jenny's gaze fell to the floor, her shame palpable as she struggled with her words. She shifted her eyes back to Giles first, as if seeking solace or perhaps a sense of forgiveness. Her voice trembled as she began, "I was told…" She flicked a reluctant glance at Buffy before looking away, murmuring almost to herself, "Oh, God."

Buffy, relentless in her quest for answers, refused to let Jenny off the hook. She pressed on; her tone unwavering. "What did they tell you? What exactly were you supposed to do?"

Jenny drew a shaky breath, her eyes finally meeting Buffy's with a mix of sorrow and regret. "I was sent here to watch you. They told me to keep you and Angel apart." Her voice cracked as she continued, her emotions spilling over. "They never told me what would happen."

Giles, overwhelmed by the gravity of Jenny's confession, could only utter her name in disbelief. "Jenny—"

"I'm sorry, Rupert," Jenny interjected, her voice fraught with despair. She looked down again, the weight of her guilt evident in her bowed head. "Angel was supposed to pay for what he did to my people."

Buffy's expression hardened as she faced Jenny, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and hurt. "And me?" she demanded, her voice rising. "What was I supposed to be paying for?"

The anguish on Jenny's face deepened. "I didn't know what would happen until after," she said, her voice barely audible. "I swear I would have told you."

Buffy and Jenny stood in the dimly lit room, a heavy silence settling between them. An unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them, both women burdened by the weight of the truth that had just been revealed. The air was thick with the gravity of their shared knowledge, a silent acknowledgment of the ramifications of their actions.

Prue's voice broke the silence, her whisper carrying a tone of incredulity and sorrow as she glanced at Buffy. "So it was Buffy," she said, her eyes wide with realization. "She did it."

Jenny, her expression marked by sadness and resignation, nodded in agreement. "I think so," she said quietly. "I mean, if—"

Giles, clearly struggling to grasp the full extent of the situation, stepped forward with a furrowed brow. "I don't understand," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration and concern.

Jenny rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate as she faced Giles. "The curse," she began, her tone heavy with the weight of her knowledge. "If Angel achieved true happiness, even for just a fleeting moment," she glanced at Buffy, her gaze filled with sorrow, "he would lose his soul."

Giles' confusion was palpable. "But how do you know you were responsible?" he asked Buffy, seeking clarification.

Phoebe leaned in close to Giles, her voice a soft whisper meant to spare Buffy further embarrassment. "She slept with him," Phoebe confided quietly, her words barely audible.

Giles' reaction was immediate. He looked visibly uncomfortable, his face flushing as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "Oh," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of understanding and discomfort.

Jenny began to speak, her voice tinged with desperation as she tried to offer some form of assistance. "If there's anything—"

Piper, her expression determined, cut her off. "Your people cursed him. There must be a way to curse him again," she said firmly, her eyes locked on Jenny's.

Jenny shook her head, a look of frustration and helplessness crossing her face. "No. I can't," she said sadly. "Those magics are long lost, even to my people."

Buffy's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You did it once," she said, her voice resolute. "It might not be too late to save him."

Jenny's response was unwavering, a finality in her voice that spoke of her own limitations. "It can't be done," she repeated. "I can't help you."

Phoebe, refusing to accept defeat, stepped forward with a sense of urgency. "Then take us to someone who can," she demanded, her eyes filled with determination and hope.

Enyos Place

Jenny led the way into her uncle's room, her steps heavy with dread. Buffy followed closely, her face set in grim determination. Giles, Prue, Piper, and Phoebe trailed behind, the tension palpable among them. As they entered the room, Jenny was the first to see the body. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, my God."

Buffy's eyes widened in shock, her face blanching as she took in the horrific scene. Giles almost lost his composure, his hand hovering near his mouth as he fought back a surge of nausea. Prue, Piper, and Phoebe exchanged grim looks, the weight of the moment pressing down on them.

On the wall, written in blood and unmistakably in Angelus's handwriting, were the chilling words: Was it good for you too?

"He's doing this deliberately, Buffy. He's trying to make it harder for you," Giles said, his voice shaky but attempting to offer some solace.

Buffy's eyes remained fixed on the cruel message, her expression hardening. "He's only making it easier," she said, her voice cold and resolute. "I know what I have to do."

Giles looked at her, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and sorrow. "What?" he asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"Kill him," Buffy said simply. Her gaze shifted to the Halliwells, who nodded in agreement. The gravity of the situation settled over them like a dark cloud. With the only person who might have known how to restore Angel's curse now dead, their only option was clear: they had to vanquish Angel.

Prue stepped forward, her face stern and determined. "We'll help you, Buffy," she said firmly. "We'll do whatever it takes to stop Angelus."

Piper nodded; her hands clenched into fists. "We can't let him continue hurting people."

Phoebe, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, added, "We'll find a way to end this, together."

Sunnydale High

In Giles's office, Xander and Oz carefully placed an oblong wooden crate on his desk, its weight thudding against the polished wood. Back in the library, Cordelia and Willow were efficiently loading various weapons into a gym bag, their faces set with determined concentration. Leo had hard orbed the Book of Shadows to the Halliwells, and now Piper and Phoebe were hunched over its ancient pages, furiously searching for a way to vanquish the Judge.

"Happy Birthday, Buffy," Xander quipped, his attempt at levity barely masking his own anxiety. "I hope you like the color."

Buffy stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she observed Giles taking a crowbar to the lid of the crate.

"We'll hit the factory first," Buffy strategized, her gaze flicking between Prue and Giles. "But if they're on the offensive, we need to figure out where they'll go next."

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, sharpening her focus and steeling her resolve. She was ready for the fight ahead.

"Agreed," Giles said, prying open the lid with a determined grunt. The wooden top splintered and fell back, revealing the contents.

Buffy's eyes widened as she took in the sight of the rocket launcher nestled inside. "This is good," she said, a grim smile touching her lips.

Hovering uncertainly in the doorway, Jenny took a tentative step forward. "Do you . . ." she began hesitantly, "is there something I can do to—"

Buffy didn't even look at her. Her voice was cold and unyielding. "Get out."

Giles glanced across the room at Jenny, his expression conflicted. "I just want to help," Jenny said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Giles sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he turned his back. "She said get out." His tone was devoid of joy or anger, simply aligning himself with his Slayer. But Buffy scrutinized him, feeling both touched and saddened that he had been forced to pick sides, that any of this had happened.

Jenny's face crumpled with a mixture of hurt and regret as she withdrew, her steps slow and heavy. Prue followed her out of the library, her eyes sympathetic but firm. "You understand why she is mad at you, right?" Prue asked gently.

Jenny nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I do," she whispered. "I just wish I could make it right."

Prue sighed, placing a comforting hand on Jenny's shoulder. "Maybe one day you will," she said softly. "But for now, give her space."

Back in Giles's office, Xander approached Buffy with a mix of caution and determination, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. He glanced at the rocket launcher, then back at Buffy, whose eyes were steely and focused.

"Do you want me to show you how to use it?" he asked, his voice low and serious, devoid of his usual levity.

"Yes, I do," Buffy replied, her tone clipped and efficient. She was all business, her heart locked away behind a fortress of resolve and necessity. There was no room for hesitation, no space for the pain that gnawed at her insides. Not now.

Xander nodded, understanding the gravity of her demeanor. He picked up the rocket launcher with practiced hands, the weight familiar to him from his soldier persona that had emerged during Halloween. He guided Buffy through the mechanics, his instructions clear and precise.

Abandoned Factory

They went to the factory, a place that now stood eerily empty. The once-decorated space, filled with party favors, high-backed chairs adorned with flowers and vines, was stripped bare, as if the festivities had never taken place.

"I knew it," Buffy huffed in frustration, her eyes scanning the abandoned room for any sign of recent activity.

Giles looked around; his brow furrowed. "And we haven't a bead on where they would go?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered, exasperation creeping into her voice. The situation was becoming more dire by the minute.

No one noticed the vampire in the wheelchair, lurking in the shadows, and Spike was determined to keep it that way.

"Somewhere crowded, I guess. I mean, the Judge needs bodies, right?" Buffy joined Xander, Cordelia, and Willow, preparing to go. Her mind raced through possible locations.

"The Bronze?" Willow suggested, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"It's closed tonight," Xander told her, shaking his head.

"There's not a lot of choices in Sunnydale," Cordelia pointed out. "It's not like people are going to line up to get massacred."

Oz, who had been quietly contemplating the situation, spoke up. "Uh, guys? If I were going to line up, I know where I'd go."

"Where?" Phoebe asked, her curiosity piqued.

"The Mall," Oz replied, his tone steady.

Piper looked confused. "That would risk exposure."

Buffy glanced at the middle Halliwell sister, a grim understanding in her eyes. "Sunnydale is sitting on a Hellmouth, Piper. People are so used to being on the site of a spiritual nexus that they tend to dismiss that they're surrounded by vampires and demons."

Phoebe nodded in agreement, the urgency of the situation pressing in on them. "The Mall makes sense. Lots of people, and the Judge would have a field day."

"Then that's where we're going," Prue said decisively, stepping forward. "We need to move fast."

Buffy, now resolute, looked at her friends and allies. "Let's go. We don't have much time."

Sunnydale Mall

Angelus, Drusilla, and their minions escorted the Judge to the upper level of the mall, a grim procession against the backdrop of the bustling, oblivious crowd below. As if on cue, an unsuspecting businessman carrying a briefcase walked up the stairs, directly into the Judge's line of fire. The Judge stretched out his left hand, releasing a crackling bolt of energy that struck the man. His body convulsed, fire blazing from his eye sockets, and then the flames flared outward, consuming him from within.

Within seconds, the man was entirely reduced to ashes, a briefcase clattering to the floor. Satisfied, Angelus grinned malevolently and commanded his minions, "Lock the exits, boys." Then, turning to the Judge with a flourish, he added, "It's all yours."

The Judge's eyes gleamed with malevolent delight.

Meanwhile, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, and Buffy emerged, determination etched into every line of her face. Giles followed, hefting the oblong box on his shoulder, the weight of their mission palpable in his every step. Behind him were Prue, Piper, and Phoebe, their expressions a mix of resolve and readiness, followed by Xander, Oz, Willow, and Cordelia, each steeled for the imminent battle.

"Everybody keep back. Damage control only," Buffy ordered, her voice firm and unyielding as they marched down the mall. "Take out any lesser vamps if you can. I'll handle the Smurf."

The Judge positioned himself grandly on the stairway, flanked by Angelus and the ethereal Drusilla. The shoppers below, engrossed in their mundane activities, remained blissfully unaware of the looming threat, not even noticing the businessman's fiery demise.

With a malevolent grin, the Judge opened his arms wide. Fiery pulses radiated from him, latching onto the nearest humans, then branching out like a deadly web, connecting to others and spreading chaos. The Judge reveled in the carnage, and Angelus watched with sadistic glee, relishing the mayhem.

Drusilla bounced on her heels, cooing with childlike delight, "Oh, goody."

Suddenly, an arrow shot through the air, embedding itself in the Judge's chest with a solid thunk. He winced, stumbling backward, the pulsating energy abruptly ceasing. The people he had attacked staggered, gasping for breath, but most remained alive, their brush with death leaving them bewildered and scared.

The Judge gripped the arrow, snapping it off with a growl. "Who dares?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the mall.

Angelus turned, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Buffy was perched atop the popcorn machine, fifty yards away from the Judge, who loomed ominously at the top of a double set of stairs. As she had anticipated, Angelus and Drusilla stood beside him, their presence underscoring the gravity of the situation.

"I think I got his attention," Buffy said with grim satisfaction, her eyes never leaving the imposing figure of the Judge.

The Judge's voice boomed across the atrium, addressing her directly. "You are a fool. No weapon forged can stop me."

Buffy's lips curled into a determined smirk. "That was then." She handed Xander the crossbow with a quick nod. "This is now." With deliberate precision, she took the rocket launcher from Giles. The heavy weapon settled onto her shoulder, and she aimed. A high-pitched whine filled the air as it armed itself, causing the shoppers below to erupt in panic, screaming and scattering in all directions.

She flicked the switch, her finger steady on the trigger. Across the building, Angelus and Drusilla exchanged a look of sheer panic. They knew exactly what was about to happen.

In a desperate scramble, they abandoned the Judge, their bodies hurtling over the stairway balcony. The Judge, sensing the imminent threat, asked with a mix of mild curiosity and a touch of concern, "What's that do?"

Buffy didn't hesitate. She pulled the trigger, and the rocket roared through the air with unerring accuracy. The package screamed straight for the Judge, made impact, and exploded in a cataclysmic burst of fire and shrapnel. The force of the blast threw Angelus and Drusilla forward, sending them sprawling as tiny fragments of the Judge rained down like a deadly hailstorm.

Angelus was the first to recover. He got to his feet and disappeared into the chaos. Drusilla, left behind, was completely unhinged, scurrying away in a paroxysm of whimpering and fear. Her henchmen, equally disoriented, trailed after her.

Buffy stood amidst the smoke and debris, taking a moment to savor the victory. The others peeked from behind the concession stand, their expressions a mix of awe and relief.

She turned to Xander, a satisfied grin on her face as she handed him the rocket launcher. "My best present ever," she said, her voice carrying a note of triumph and resolve.

Xander took the rocket launcher from Buffy, his grin broadening. "Knew you'd like it."

"Do you think he's dead?" Willow asked, her voice tinged with cautious hope.

"We can't be sure," Piper answered, her tone pragmatic. "Pick up the pieces. Keep them separate."

The group moved to obey her instructions, scattering to gather the scattered remnants of the Judge. Cordelia, however, couldn't resist a grumble. "Pieces? We're getting pieces? Our job sucks!"

Buffy ignored the complaint. Her job wasn't finished—it had barely begun. She turned her attention back to the fleeing figure of Angelus.

Angelus ran, his fear palpable as he glanced over his shoulder. He saw the Slayer staring after him, her determination evident, and he ran faster, shoving people out of his way in a desperate bid to escape.

Buffy leaped off the popcorn machine, her movements fluid and swift, hot on his heels.

Prue, noticing Buffy's chase, quickly assessed the situation. "Help Buffy's friends pick up the pieces," she instructed her sisters, determination etched on her face. She then took off after the half-demon Slayer, her long strides catching up to Buffy.

Meanwhile, the burning debris of the Judge created a thick, acrid smoke that rapidly filled the upper level of the mall. The smoke set off the overhead sprinklers, and soon the interior was drenched, water cascading down in torrents, turning the battle zone into a slick, treacherous landscape.

Buffy and Prue found themselves confined in a cul-de-sac containing a pastry counter and little else. The wet tile floors gleamed under the artificial rain, every surface reflecting the chaotic scene. The sprinklers made it difficult to see clearly, adding another layer of danger to their pursuit of Angelus.

Seizing the advantage, Angelus attacked Buffy from behind, his powerful blow sending her sprawling to the ground. Water splashed around her as she hit the floor, soaking her clothes and hair.

"You know what the worst part was?" Angelus asked roughly, his voice cutting through the downpour as Buffy struggled to her knees. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, bore into her. "Pretending that I loved you. If I'd known how easily you'd give it up, I wouldn't have even bothered."

Prue quickly helped Buffy to her feet, the two women standing side by side, drenched but determined. Buffy gave Angelus a look filled with a potent mix of sadness and fury, her eyes narrowing as she faced him.

"That doesn't work anymore," Buffy said coldly, her voice steady despite the rain pouring down around them. "You're not Angel."

Angelus laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Doesn't matter." He grinned, a cruel twist to his lips, savoring the pain he inflicted with his words. "The important thing is, you made me the man I am today."

Prue, her patience exhausted, swiped her hand at Angelus, using her telekinesis to send him flying backwards into a wall. The impact echoed through the mall, but Angelus was quick to recover. He jumped back to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger.

With a swift, brutal motion, he retaliated, belting Prue in the face. She staggered back, clutching her jaw. In the same fluid movement, he turned and delivered a vicious punch to Buffy's stomach, doubling her over.

Buffy gasped, the air knocked out of her, but she quickly straightened, her eyes never leaving Angelus. Prue, wiping blood from her lip, stepped forward again, ready to fight.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

They were meticulously picking up the scattered pieces of the Judge. The Scoobies, Piper, and Phoebe working together under the dim mall lighting and the still-dripping sprinklers. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke mixed with the faint scent of wet concrete. The devastation from the battle surrounded them, but their focus was solely on gathering every fragment of the demon they had vanquished.

Willow, her face determined and set, carefully placed smaller shards into a bag, her hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline. Xander worked nearby, his jaw clenched as he kicked aside debris, searching for any remaining parts. Cordelia, ever the reluctant helper, grimaced but did her part, collecting what she could with visible disdain. Giles supervised, occasionally directing them to ensure no piece was left behind.

Phoebe and Piper moved systematically through the wreckage. Piper's brow furrowed as she knelt to pick up a jagged chunk of what looked like the Judge's torso. "This should do it," she murmured, handing the piece to Phoebe, who nodded and added it to their growing collection.

Suddenly, Oz stopped dead in his tracks. His normally calm demeanor gave way to a look of alarm as he raised his hand, pointing toward a particularly large part of the Judge that lay ominously among the rubble. He seemed almost reluctant to approach it.

"Uh, arm," he announced, his voice breaking the tense silence.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

In the mall cul-de-sac, the chaos and smoke from the sprinklers added a surreal backdrop to the intense showdown. Angelus, with a sinister grin, was gaining the upper hand. As Buffy leaped to her feet, he swiftly picked her up over his shoulder and flung her down to the floor with brutal force.

Prue, her face set with determination, tried to summon her powers again, but Angelus was faster. He landed a sharp undercut to her chin, whipping back her head. The force of his blows was relentless—a left, then a right—and soon she was down as well, gasping for breath.

"Not quitting on me already, are you?" Angelus taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he reveled in the fear on Buffy's face. "Come on, Buffy," he sneered. "You know you want it, huh?"

Buffy's eyes burned with fury and resolve. She flung herself at him, her movements a blur of kicks and punches so fast and furious that he couldn't keep count. Each strike connected with precision and force. She used him like a punching bag, channeling all her anger and pain into every blow. She grabbed him and, with a surge of strength, rammed his head through a glass case, then back up through the shattered glass top. She pummeled him relentlessly—a front kick, a roundhouse. The force of her attack sent him sprawling backward, landing hard on the floor.

Angelus struggled to his feet, his face a mask of shock and rage. Buffy stood, her chest heaving, and an energy ball crackling with power formed in her hand. They locked eyes, the intensity of their mutual hatred palpable.

Prue, recovering, saw Buffy waver. She saw the pain etched on Buffy's face, the internal struggle tearing at her. Angelus, ever the manipulator, smiled as he sensed her hesitation. Buffy's arm slowly lowered, the energy ball dissipating into nothing.

"You can't do it," Angelus said triumphantly, his voice laced with mockery. "You can't kill me."

Prue, ready to use her powers again, paused as Buffy acted first. With a fierce, determined expression, Buffy delivered a powerful kick right between Angelus's legs. The impact was devastating. Angelus groaned, his face contorted in agony as he doubled over, his mouth open in a silent scream. He fell to his knees, gagging, unable to make another sound.

Buffy turned her back on him, her face a mask of cold resolve. She and Prue walked away, the water from the sprinklers cascading down on them like rain. As they moved away from the defeated vampire, Buffy's voice, filled with quiet, unyielding determination, carried back to him.

"Give me time."

January 23, 1998 – Friday

Halliwell Manor

Prue, Piper, and Phoebe sat in the conservatory of the Manor, a serene but emotionally charged space where the sunlight filtering through the glass ceiling did little to lighten the mood. The lush greenery surrounding them seemed to close in, adding to the heavy atmosphere that hung in the air. Buffy sat with her back straight, but her eyes were cast downward, focused on the delicate pattern of the rug beneath her.

The silence was thick, almost tangible, until Prue broke it gently. "It's not over," she said, her voice laced with an undertone of compassion. "I suppose you know that." Her gaze was steady, filled with a mixture of empathy and determination.

Buffy nodded slowly, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Her throat felt constricted, and her voice emerged as a ragged whisper, barely audible. "You guys must be so disappointed in me." She finally lifted her eyes to meet those of the sisters, her expression a portrait of guilt and anguish. "I'm failing in gaining your trust. Proving that Colle and I can be good despite our demonic heritage."

"No," Piper interjected firmly, her eyes softening with sincerity. "No, we're not disappointed in you." Her voice was steady, but the warmth and honesty behind her words were unmistakable.

Buffy's eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, unable to hold the sisters' gaze any longer. Her voice cracked under the weight of her sorrow. "But this is all my fault." The tears began to spill over, tracking down her cheeks. "If I hadn't—"

Phoebe reached out, placing a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. Her own eyes were earnest and understanding as she spoke. "I don't believe it is your fault," Phoebe said softly. "You didn't know what would happen if you slept with Angel. None of us did. But if you and Angel were anything like me and Cole before I learned he was a demon... then I know that you loved him, and he very likely loved you."

Buffy's tears continued to fall, but the warmth of Phoebe's words provided a sliver of comfort amidst her turmoil. She took a shuddering breath, trying to steady herself, as the sisters' words began to sink in.

Prue leaned forward, her expression one of quiet support. "Buffy, what happened wasn't your fault. It's a painful part of the journey, but it doesn't define who you are or what you've accomplished. You're fighting hard, and that matters."

Piper nodded in agreement. "We all make mistakes, and we all face challenges. It's how we handle them that truly defines us. You've proven your strength and your heart time and time again. Don't doubt that now."

The sun's rays continued to filter through the conservatory's glass ceiling, casting a warm glow over the group. Buffy took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. The comforting words from the Halliwell sisters, despite the chaos and pain of the moment, began to mend the frayed edges of her spirit. The fight was far from over, but in this moment, she wasn't alone.