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<He was there. She could feel him. He was everywhere. But mostly behind her.
She turned; regarded him without feeling. Without hate, but without love as
well. With nothing.
He smiled at her then, and she smiled too, knowing he was who he was and not who she feared he might be. The nothingness was gone suddenly. There was only him, and her, and the love in his black eyes.
“Angel,” she breathed. He nodded and somehow it was the right name after all, though she knew it was not. He stepped towards her and suddenly she was walking too, wanting only to be near him. To be held by him.
“My love,” he called her, reaching out a hand. She took it and he drew her closer. Their fingers and hearts intertwined.
“Angel, this cannot be,” she whispered, but he only smiled and kissed each of her fingers in turn, before reaching for her other hand and bringing it to join the first.
“Not in the world,” he said finally. “In the world I am banished, but I will come again, someday.” He turned her hands over and kissed her palms and the inside of her wrists. She shivered each time his mouth touched her, but did not let go of her fears.
“I will be gone then,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. It was not to be. They would never be together in the world, only in dreams.
“No, no,” he protested. “You will come again too.” He gathered her closer, brushed his mouth over her hair.
“But will it be too late?” she asked.
“Don’t believe that. If we’re together . . .”
“It will never be too late,” she finished, lifting her face for his kiss.
“We have to believe,” he said into her mouth.
“I do, Angel. I do believe. I want to be with you now though. I love you,” she said, bringing her hands up to cup his face.
“I know. I love you too. But I can’t do anything about it. I wish I could. I can’t stand watching you be hurt and knowing that you think I’m doing it,” he said softly, turning his head to kiss her hands. She ran her fingers lightly over his lips.
“It’s only one life. I’ll survive. Not literally, but I will, and I know it isn’t you. That’s what matters,” she assured him.
“I just hate to hurt you,” he said, cupping her face so that they stood, holding each other’s faces, looking into each other’s eyes.
“I’ll survive,” she repeated, “And you’re not hurting me—the demon is.”
“At least you have someone,” Angel said. She smiled briefly, her gaze somewhere else for a second before it returned to him.
“Yes. I have someone. Someone I love. And I do love him, Angel, even if I don’t know it yet. You are the other part of me but I love him too,” she said seriously, her eyes searching his face for acceptance. He gave it to her readily.
“I am glad,” he said. “I could not bear to know you were alone through this. You are always alone and it is not fair.”
“I am the Slayer,” she replied. “In this life and all lives. When you and I meet again I will still be the Slayer, only with a different name and a different face. Will you know me then?”
“I will always know you. How could I not? You are everything to me. Without you, I’m not whole. Not alive. In fact,” he said, smiling slightly, “I’m going to begin counting my lives in the time when you’re there.”
“Angel,” she laughed, “You’re not allowed to do that! Besides, that would mean forgetting all about serving under Alexander the Great, and I know how much you like to brag about founding the Ptolemic Dynasty in Egypt.” He smiled and kissed her hand again, giving a small bow, then turned serious once more.
“It’s true though. Living without you is like living without art, without music . . . without sunlight. It’s not truly living at all.” She reached her hand to his cheek, to caress the pain from his face.
“But you have lived without sunlight before,” she said softly.
“And I will again before you return. But it will not be living. It will be existing. I will exist until you come again and I can live once more.”
“If you have . . . existed for so long, how will you find me when I come?” she asked.
“Someone or something will show you to me. It always happens that way, remember? In China, that once . . . in Africa, and in Rome. Always something brings us together. It is meant to be so.” She smiled mischievously.
“Speaking of Rome . . . I’m glad I’m not that ugly in every life!” she laughed. He wagged his finger at her reprimandingly.
“You weren’t ugly. You were . . . different. Besides, remember Russia?”
“Of course! It was cold there! I spent twenty years frozen solid!” she exclaimed. He smiled.
“Well, yes, besides that, I looked like I’d been dead for three days!”
“You did not!” she exclaimed. He considered it.
“At least a day,” he said finally. She gave a mock growl.
“You looked fine! Though I do like you better now,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I’ll just bet you do!” he laughed. Her expression turned somber then and she regarded him seriously.
“Why is the body your soul lives in the one that you’ve experienced the most pain in?” He stilled at her words.
“Is this it then? All this time I’ve looked like Angelus?”
“I forgot there were no mirrors,” she said softly. “But perhaps it is because Angel is your True Name. It is simply your True Form also.”
“And yours?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never known my true name, and I’ve never lived in this body. Yet. Tell me what I look like Angel.”
“You are small . . . smaller than usual. Smaller than most Slayers, but you seem strong. Your hair is dark blond mostly, with highlights, and layered around your face. It’s almost to your shoulders, but not quite. You have perfect skin, and adorable mouth, and a cute nose. Your eyes are green.”
“They usually are,” she said.
“Except in Africa,” he pointed out.
“And China.”
“Yes.”
“But most definitely in Russia.”
“And England.”
“Yes. England. I have to go Angel. Soon. It’s almost dawn and I always wake up right at dawn. It’s easier if I go myself than if I’m torn away.” He nodded, but clutched at her as if she would fade away beneath his hands.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you. And I forgive you for everything your body has done in your absence, and everything it will do in the future.”
“Even if it kills you?”
“Even if it kills me,” she said.
“Even if it kills him?” There was a pause and then she looked up and caught his eyes. The love in her green ones was enough to make him believe the impossible.
“Even if it kills him. It’s not you Angel. I know it isn’t. I love you.” He kissed her then, truly kissed her. When it was over she caressed his face, smiled at him and then turned and walked away, glancing back at him over her shoulder. He watched in silence, afraid suddenly, for all of them.>
Alyssa woke up as the first light of dawn touched her bed curtains. She smiled softly, still half in her dream. It was a lovely dream, though she couldn’t remember exactly what was happening. Only that it was wonderful, and there was someone . . . And then she remember who that someone had been.
Alyssa’s body tensed and her eyes flew open as she began to recall the dream. Angelus had been there, but she hadn’t called him that, and he had smiled at her and . . . and it was another of those dreams. She had had them since before she even met Angelus, though she didn’t know who he was for a long time, just a man that she met and loved in her dreams. But then she found out that in the world he was quite different. It was not a pleasant awakening.
He tried to unnerve her by being mocking and cruel, but using her parents against her. But he only made it easier, showed her more clearly that the only thing he shared with the man in her dreams was a face. If he had smiled at her even once, truly smiled, without sarcasm or mockery, but truly smiled, she would be powerless against him.
Luckily, he never truly smiled and he never would.
1998
Buffy took a deep breath and slowly pressed the familiar numbers on the phone. One-area code-and then the number, which she knew so well. She knew Giles would be there, even during the summer. He was always there. The phone began to ring, once, twice, three times. Buffy tapped her foot on the floor and one the fourth ring Giles picked up.
“Hello?” he said, obviously puzzled by who would be calling the school library in the summer.
“Hey Giles,” Buffy said softly.
“Buffy?!” he exclaimed. They hadn’t spoken since Buffy had asked if she could stay in L.A., but now she needed him to find something out for her, since Angel had retreated into a brooding phase again.
“Yep. That’s me. The one and only. How are you?” she asked.
“I-I’m f-fine. How are you?” he asked quickly.
“I’m okay. I just thought I’d check and see how things were going. Have the vamps gotten over Spike and Dru’s little disappearance?” Buffy asked.
“A-actually, they . . . they have, I’m afraid. They’re rather active again.”
“Oh. I see. Do you need me to . . . to come back?” Buffy asked, mentally praying he would say no. He didn’t.
“If you could, it would—”
“I’ll talk to my parents,” Buffy interrupted him, mentally screaming. What about Angel? Would he go back with her? She couldn’t lose him again. She just couldn’t.
“O-oh. Good. Thank you. Is there . . . is there anything else?” Giles asked.
“Yes actually,” Buffy said, bracing herself. She’d have to do this right. “I was wondering if you could look something up for me.”
“I’d be happy to. What is it?” Giles asked.
“One of the old Slayers . . . her name was Alyssa and she was alive in the nineteenth century,” Buffy said. “I just want to know how she died.”
“I-I don’t think—”
“There would be any problem with that,” Buffy interrupted him. “Thank you Giles. You’re the best. And I’ll get back to you about the coming home thing. Thanks, ‘bye.” She hung up before he had a chance to gainsay her. Hopefully he would do it, seeing no other choice, and if not she would resort to her second option . . . having Willow steal the Watcher’s diary.
She had to go back. Back to Sunnydale, to being the Slayer. How could she do it? Not only might it mean being separated from Angel, but the last time she had been the practicing Slayer she had hurt everyone she cared about. Xander had a broken arm because of her, Willow had gone into a coma, and Kendra . . . Kendra had died! Because of Buffy. And that wasn’t even mentioning Giles, whom Buffy still couldn’t think of. Tortured. He had been tortured. By Angel. Angelus. Which did not forebode well for how he would react if he found out Angel was still alive. First Ms. Calendar and now this . . . he wouldn’t be able to take it. Which meant Buffy had to choose. And she couldn’t. She really couldn’t.
“This is not the time to think about this. I’ll think about it later. This is the time to call Willow,” she told herself firmly. She was still holding the phone and she quickly pushed the TALK button and dialed Willow’s familiar phone number.
“Rosenberg residence, can I help you?” Willow’s voice asked cheerfully. Buffy’s voice caught in her throat when she started to talk. What if Willow didn’t want to talk to her? After all, she’d been in a coma, and then Buffy had just left. Sure she’d been really great when they talked before but—
“Xander? Is that you? Hello?” Willow asked.
“I-it’s not Xander,” Buffy managed softly. “Sorry. It’s just me. Buffy.”
“Oh my god! Buffy! You’re-you’re calling! Me! For real! You want to talk! Do you want to talk?” Willow asked quickly. Buffy almost smiled.
“I want to talk. If-if that’s okay. If you want to,” she said hesitating still.
“Of course! I didn’t want to call you ‘cause I was afraid you wouldn’t want to. Talk, I mean. I thought you needed time,” Willow said quickly.
“I did. I do. I don’t know. But thank you. For not calling. Or something. But I do want to talk now. Which is why I called. To talk,” Buffy said, getting very confused somehow.
“Okay. We’re talking. This is good. This is a step in the right direction. Right?”
“Right,” Buffy answered firmly. “So, how are you Willow?”
“I’m good!” Willow exclaimed. “Well, pretty good. It’s that time of the month, you know . . . Oz’s time! Not mine!”
“I know,” Buffy said.
“You do?” Willow asked.
“I always make sure I know when the full moon is. For you. I thought I’d call and keep you company,” Buffy said.
“Oh! That’s so nice! Thank you!” Willow exclaimed.
“You know, that’s me, always trying to keep my friends happy. Except you know, when I’m being incredibly selfish and spoiled,” Buffy said bitterly.
“You’re not! I understand! We all understand. I mean, what you went through . . .” Willow trailed off and there was a second of silence.
“Willow, what exactly did Whistler tell you?” Buffy asked.
“He came in the day after . . . after everything happened, and told Giles that you were all right. I mean, that Angel hadn’t hurt you. Your mom hadn’t told us about the note yet. We sort of demanded more of an explanation, so he told us that . . . that my spell worked after Xander and Giles got out but it was . . . too late and you had to send Angel to Hell to save the world. That’s it, right? That’s all that happened. Xander says you tried but you couldn’t keep Angel away from Acathla before the spell. I’m sorry,” Willow whispered. Something about her last words caught in Buffy’s mind.
“But I didn’t know about the spell until he changed,” Buffy said, confused.
“But Xander was supposed to tel—” Willow broke off suddenly. Buffy froze. She didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence. Xander had known the entire time, and he hadn’t told her. If she had known maybe she could have . . . Better not to think of that now. There was a long silence on both sides of the phone.
“Buffy?” Willow whispered finally.
“He came back,” Buffy said in a flat tone.
“What? Who? Xander?” Willow asked.
“Angel. He came back to the Earth. And he’s forgiven me. We’re together again. I just wanted you to know. Don’t tell anyone else. And it doesn’t make what Xander does all right. It just means I don’t have to hurt him,” Buffy said coldly, no emotion in her voice.
“Angel’s back? And he’s all right! That’s so wonderful Buffy! Isn’t it? Wonderful, I mean. It is, isn’t it?”
“Wonderful,” Buffy said, though her voice was still flat. And it was, only she couldn’t seem to feel anything right that moment. Xander had betrayed her. One of her best friends . . . he had betrayed her. If he had told the truth she would have worked harder, could have stopped Angel. Could have stopped it all. But he had betrayed her.
“He didn’t mean . . . I’m sure he’s sorry. He didn’t think it would happen like that Buffy,” Willow said, pleading for Xander.
“He should have thought,” Buffy said coldly.
“Just give him a chance—” Willow began, but Buffy cut her off.
“He had a chance. He blew it. Game over. He lost. Angel lost. We all lost. Giles said the vampires are coming back, so I’ll probably come home soon. Tell Xander I don’t want to see him when I come. At all. Or talk to him. Ever.”
“I’ll tell him,” Willow said weakly.
“Good bye Will. I’m sorry I didn’t cheer you up,” Buffy said, her voice softening a little.
“It’s okay. I’m glad Angel’s all right,” Willow ventured.
“So am I. More than I can say. I’ll tell you the story sometime, but I should go now. I’ll see you when I get home,” Buffy promised.
“Okay. I miss you Buffy,” Willow said.
“I miss you too Will. Tell Xander what I said. Good bye.”
“Good bye,” Willow whispered, and then Buffy hung up and there was silence
on the line. Buffy took a deep breath and then crumpled into tears, hugging
herself tightly. He had betrayed her, but hadn’t she betrayed him first?
Hadn’t she betrayed them all?