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1860
“It’s not fair!  Why can’t I come out? Everybody gets to come out but me!” Alyssa Richards exclaimed crossly.

“Alyssa!  Watch out!” her Watcher cried.  She made a face and easily dodged the vampire jumping at her from behind.  The vamp fell flat on its deformed face and Alyssa staked it from behind before it could rise.  She turned to the semi-young man beside her, her expression indignant.

“Well?  Why not?” she asked.

“For God’s sake Alyssa!  This is really not the time to–” Stephan Murdock stopped in the middle of his sentence and whirled to face another vampire.  Alyssa sighed and threw one of the stakes in her hand, easily hitting the demon-possessed creature.

“It’s a perfectly good time.  You’re always trying to avoid the subject, Stephan.  We’re in London now, after all, and everyone will think it very odd if I don’t come out.  Besides, I want to.  It’s not fair if everyone else gets to go to balls and have tea parties while I chase vampires all night,” Alyssa said crossly.

“Who is ‘everyone’ and if you’d disappear like you’re supposed to, it wouldn’t matter that we are in London!” Stephan exclaimed.

“I told you, I don’t want to disappear, whatever the handbook said!  And ‘everyone’ is every other fashionable young lady.  Not to mention all the young men . . . young men that I never get to meet!  How do you expect me to find a husband if I never meet anyone?” Alyssa asked matter-of-factly.

“I don’t expect you to find a husband.  In fact, you never will.  Slayers do not marry, Alyssa,” Stephan said sharply.

“That’s what you say.  Personally, I don’t see how that many people could have lived without every marrying.  After all, a girl is meant to marry.  How else would she support herself?” Stephan sighed heavily.

“You don’t need to support yourself,” he pointed out.  “Besides the fact that your parents left you quite a lot of money, I support you.  You don’t need a husband and you shan’t have one.  A husband would inevitably find out about your true nature–”

“Well obviously!  Unless most young wives sneak out every night to dark alleys with a large supply of wooden stakes.  Somehow I doubt it, though I don’t, of course, have any experience in the matter.”

“Alyssa, would you be quiet for one moment and let me finish?” Stephan demanded.

“Not now Stephan,” Alyssa said, looking beyond him.  He turned to see a dark figure at the end of the alley.  Another one.

“Is it him?” Stephan asked quietly.

“Of course it’s him!” Alyssa snapped, on edge as she always was around her arch-nemesis.  He stepped forward and her eyes–much better in the dark than a normal human’s–found his face.  Human.  For the moment.  Unlike most vampires, he seemed to like appearing human.  Maybe because he knew how unnervingly beautiful he was.

“Good evening Alyssa,” he said smoothly, bowing.  She curtseyed in turn, keeping her head up and her eyes on him.

“Angelus,” she said softly, “I have not seen you for quite some time.”  She could see his smile flash white in the shadows.

“It has been hard to stay away from your beauty for so long, my dear.  Unfortunately, I had business elsewhere, and here in London as well.  But now you are here, and I for one do not intend to go away for quite some time,” Angelus said, the promise in his voice a silky threat.

“How lamentable,” Alyssa said sweetly, then paused for effect, “For you, that is.  Does that mean next time you will stay and die rather than run away?”

“I shall stay, but perhaps it is you, my dear, that will die this time,” Angelus replied.  “After all, I already have once.”

“And it is really too bad you did not stay that way.  Who did you kill this time?  What poor girl did you torture because you knew you could not get to me?” Alyssa asked.  In the darkness his mouth twisted into an ironic smile.  His beautiful, sensuous mouth. He beckoned someone from behind him.

The girl was not as young as Alyssa had feared.  She was not particularly young at all, at least Alyssa’s age (seventeen) and almost certainly older.  She was very pretty, but there was something about the innocent expression on her face and the look in her eyes that made Alyssa hold back a shudder.  She was wearing a long white dress, in the latest style, but it was only a few shades paler than her ivory skin.  Her rich brown hair was loose about her shoulders, and she placed one hand on Angelus’s arm as she approached, smiling at Alyssa.

“I want you to meet the Slayer, Dru. Alyssa, dearest, this is Drusilla.  Until recently she was planning to enter a convent, but I have convinced her otherwise,” Angelus said.

“He has promised me a coming out party,” Drusilla said softly.  “Haven’t you Angelus?  When can we have my party?  It will be so wonderful!  There will be so many people there . . . and so many delicious things to eat!”  A small pink tongue peeked out from between her lips and licked them delicately.

“Soon, my pet, soon,” Angelus said soothingly.  Drusilla looked over at Alyssa then, sizing her up slowly.

“Will she come to my party?  I want her to come,” the vampire said softly.

“Whatever you want Dru,” Angelus said, then looked at Alyssa with a challenge in his eyes.  “Well?  What do you say?” Alyssa straightened, meeting his eyes stare for stare.

“I’ll be there,” she replied, her voice just as menacing.  Having had enough of that topic, she changed subjects quickly.  “Where is Darla?  And William?”

“Darla is away at the moment.  William’s holding the fort down,” Angelus replied easily.  “He sends his greetings.”

“Do tell him hello,” Alyssa said.

“Oh, I will.  He shall be sorry he missed you.  And your little helper.”  Angelus’s eyes flicked to Stephan, who stiffened in anger.  Alyssa put a hand out to touch his arm and he relaxed slowly, still watching Angelus warily.  William the Bloody, Angelus’s friend–if vampires could have friends–had nearly killed Stephan, but Alyssa had rescued him, and almost killed both William and Angelus.  They had fled England for the Continent and Alyssa had come to London.  They’d been back for several weeks though.  She could feel him.

“Next time.  It’s been lovely catching up, Angelus, but we really must be going.  Unless you had some other entertainment in mind?” Alyssa asked archly. His dark eyes flashed but he said nothing, knowing that he could not beat her.  Not as she was that night, strong and ready for him.  That was not his way anyway.  William the Bloody, though horrible and evil, faced Alyssa outright when they met.  Angelus preferred to weaken her defenses, attack her emotions.  Unfortunately for him, he never realized that where Alyssa’s emotions were concerned she had complete control.  And that the one way he could have gotten to her was something he would never dream of.

“Come along Dru.  Good night Alyssa.  We will meet again soon,” Angelus said, fading into the darkness, though she could still feel him there.  She didn’t reply, only waited until he was gone altogether, and then turned to her Watcher, who looked concerned.

“We’re going home.  There’ll be no more tonight,” Alyssa said, sure of the truth of the statement.  He studied her for a moment, then nodded.

“I think you are right.  We’ll discuss this in the morning,” he said.  Alyssa didn’t reply, lost in her own thoughts.  They walked out of the alley together, and she pulled her black cloak closer about her, pulling the hood up over her light hair, so that anyone looking would only see a shapeless black mass, and not a fashionable young lady.  Stephan walked freely, for it did not matter if he was seen.  Gentlemen were often abroad at night, and it would not be remarked upon.

Alyssa glanced over at him as they walked.  He ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing it even more than usual.  She resisted the urge to smooth it out, turning her attention elsewhere.  His spectacles–they were new, as William had broken his old ones–caught the moonlight and reflected it, so she couldn’t see his blue-gray eyes or the expression in them.  She knew he didn’t like Angelus–more than that, he found something about him . . . frightening, though not in the conventional sense.  She didn’t know what he was thinking though, what thoughts were running through his head.  She hardly knew what thoughts were running through hers.

Alyssa sighed deeply, eliciting a strange look from her Watcher and legal guardian.  Angelus always confused her.  On the one hand, she knew he was pure evil.  She could feel it whenever he was near . . . even when he wasn’t.  It was like a–a shadow, a looming presence.  A hatred of everything good and human.  And at the same time his eyes sent shivers through her skin, his mouth . . . Oh, it was useless to think about.  When the time came she would kill him, like she killed all the others, because really, he was no different.  If anything, he was worse.  The evil burned brightly in him, and it was Alyssa’s job to distinguish that evil.

Sometimes she wondered what he had been like with a soul.

1998
When she left Sunnydale she’d been perfectly clear on what she was doing.  Going away.  It had been the only option and there had been no doubt in her mind it was what she must do.  She didn’t deserve to have her friends and her Watcher fawn over her and congratulate her for saving the world.  Besides, everything was gone now . . . she’d been expelled from school, her mother had kicked her out of the house.  She’d sent Angel to Hell.  She had betrayed the man she loved.  She didn’t deserve to have a life anymore.  Everything was gone.

A small part of her argued that Willow was still there.  Xander was there, and Giles and even Cordelia and Oz.  And her mother probably hadn’t meant it.  Even her mother probably wouldn’t really want her to go.  She was probably frantic.

The other part of her said that Angel was everything she had and she had betrayed him.

“Hey!  Watch where you’re going!” a woman cried, glaring at Buffy.  She looked up, dazed, and realized that she had run into someone.  Yes, she’d been perfectly clear in mind when she’d left Sunnydale.  Unfortunately, she had dissolved on the bus.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and kept walking.  She had gone to L.A.  It hadn’t really been a conscious decision. L.A. was home though, or had been for a long time, and so Buffy went there.  In a place that large, surely she could lose herself.  Surely she could lose all thoughts of everything.  Surely she could forget, wandering those streets, going nowhere.  But she hadn’t.  She had kept thinking about it–about what had happened and what she had done.

“Hey!” a man’s voice cried.  Buffy looked up, afraid she had bumped into someone again.  She hadn’t; a man was holding her arm.  She looked ahead, where she had been walking, and saw the cars.  She’d been about to walk into the middle of a busy lane of traffic.  And someone had stopped her.  Why had they stopped her?

“Are you okay?” the man asked.  Buffy looked at him, taking in his nice clothes and kind, concerned expression without really seeing him.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“You sure?  You almost walked into the middle of traffic.  Are you strung out or something?” he asked, peering at her.

“Why do you care?” she asked, pulling her arm away.

“Because I do.  You look like you need help.  I help people.  It’s what I do,” he said.

“I don’t need help,” Buffy said stonily.  “Nothing can help me.”

“Are you hungry?  When did you last eat?” he asked.

“Isn’t there some homeless kid you can help?” she nearly shouted, pulling away again.

“I hope so.  I run a shelter for troubled and homeless teens and young adults.  Why don’t you come?  We can give you something to eat and you can comb your hair,” he said, appealing to every teen girl’s sense of appearance.  It worked.  Buffy’s hand flew to her hair.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

“It looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days,” he answered truthfully.  It probably hadn’t.  Buffy couldn’t remember, but she thought she’d been gone a few days, and she certainly didn’t remember brushing her hair.  She didn’t remember eating either, and suddenly she was very hungry.

“All right, but only for a little while,” Buffy said, still not meeting his eyes.  He nodded and took her arms, leading her down the street.  She followed blindly, a corner of her mind preparing to fight in case he was really some sick old man trying to abduct her.

He led her to a big building with a sign that said something about a teen shelter, though she didn’t look closely.  He brought her inside and sat her down at a table with food.  She ate hungrily, suddenly starving.  The food, though she knew it wasn’t anything special, seemed wonderful.  When she had eaten her fill a woman showed her a mirror and gave her a hairbrush.  Buffy brushed until her scalp hurt and she was sure she looked all right again.  Not that it mattered.  Angel was gone.  She had sent him to Hell.  It didn’t matter what anyone else saw when they looked at her.  Angel was the only man she would ever love.

She vaguely realized that she was swaying in front of the mirror and let herself be led to a bed–a small, hard cot, but a bed nevertheless–where she quickly fell into an exhausted sleep.

<“How could you just leave us?” Willow demanded.  “Don’t we mean anything to you?  How could you just go without any word?” They were all there–Willow, her mother, Giles, Xander, Cordelia, even Oz.  Staring at her.  Accusing her.

“I’m sorry I-I had to!” Buffy cried, terrified by what she saw in their eyes.  Anger.  Hatred.

“You are the Chosen One!  You can’t just leave at a whim!” Giles said.  She was shaking her head, trying to push them away, keep them away . . .

“No!  I don’t want to be the Chosen One!  I had to go!” she cried.

“How could you leave me to worry?  I thought you were dead!” her mother cried.

“We all thought you were dead.  I mean, think of other people for once!” Cordelia exclaimed.  “You never think of anyone but yourself.  How could you do that to Angel?  And then leave us all to worry?”

“I had to!  I had to!” Buffy sobbed.

“Bad choice, Buff.  Even I think it’s harsh to send him to Hell,” Xander put in.  Buffy shook her head, kept shaking it, hoping it would make a difference somehow.

“No!  I didn’t want to!  I had to!  I had no choice!”

“No choice?” came a new voice from behind them.  A new voice, but old, and familiar.  So familiar.  The people before her parted, and he stepped through, his expression more hateful than it had ever been when he was evil.  His face was covered with burns, and his scalp was bleeding from where his hair had been pulled out.  “You sent me to Hell because you had no choice?  There is always a choice Buffy. You told me you loved me, and then you sent me to Hell!  Do you know what Hell is like?” He gave a harsh, horrible laugh.  “Of course not.  Not yet.  Someday you will, because of what you did to me.  What goes around comes around, they say.  I loved you Buffy, and you sent me to Hell.  And now you’ll go there too.”

“No!  No!  I had no choice!  I didn’t want to!  I had to!  No!” Buffy sobbed, curling into a ball at his feet, begging for the forgiveness that she knew he would never give her.  And then they were all talking at once–all screaming at her.  How could she do it?  How could she leave?

“I had to!” Buffy screamed, over and over, trying to drown them out, but she couldn’t.  She never could.>

Part 2
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