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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters (except Brian and Eythan) in this story. They belong to Joss Whedon, and all the great people at the WB, Fox, etc. The half-vampires are mine, but if you want to use them for anything, just e-mail me about it. This is the third story in a trilogy. If you haven't read either of the other two, you definitely should. This is definitely one of those things where you need the background. And if you have read the other ones, I definitely reccomend reading this one, because it brings together the other two and has a definite ending. I live on comments...hint, hint. You can e-mail me at felicity_rose@hotmail.com. I even like negative stuff, if it's constructive (well, maybe *like* is too strong a word, but I'd be glad to get it). I think that's about it...I apologize for the ending if anyone didn't like how it turns out (though I have a feeling most people will). I hope you like it...
Part 1
In the darkness, he smiled. No more darkness now. It was time for the light. It was time . . .
“Would you stop it?” Cordelia Harris asked, turning to glare at her husband, who was hovering around her like she would shatter at any moment. “It’s not like I’m exactly FRAIL.”
“Don’t pay attention to him Cordy. After all, this is his first kid. He has a right to be a little nervous,” Buffy said, perching her own, still tiny, body on one of the tables. She smiled up at Brian, who put one hand around her shoulders and watched their friends with amusement evident in his blue eyes and twitching mouth.
“Oh. Sure. And drive me up the wall?” Cordelia demanded, sitting heavily in a chair and glaring at Xander, who looked horrified at the thought that she had just SAT . . . just like that. No lowering down, just . . . sat. “You just wait Buffy. Someday it’ll be your turn,” Cordelia promised. Buffy smiled discreetly and Brian broadly.
“I hope so,” he said, looking down at the woman he loved. She shot him a strange look.
“Brian . . . you know I—”
“I know. Never mind. Forget I said anything,” he said, shaking his head. Buffy looked away, suddenly silent and subdued. She wanted kids. She was twenty seven, after all. She’d always wanted kids. But it just wasn’t going to work. Especially not until after the Master came forward. Brian knew that as well as she did.
“So how have you been?” Cordelia asked, changing the subject. Xander sat down, still eyeing Cordelia and her well rounded stomach warily.
“Pretty good. You know . . . same old, same old. Slay a few vampires, teach a few classes, try and get some sleep,” Buffy replied with a wry smile. “And you? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
“Xander might get his own TV series—you know, ever since Seinfeld they’ve been trying to get a really good one going with a stand-up comic. It’s supposed to be loosely reality based—you know, married to an actress, having a kid—”
“Slaying vampires?” Buffy suggested.
“I think they decided to cut that part,” Xander put in. “They had the strange idea that it wouldn’t be funny enough!”
“What’s not funny about the end of the world?” Brian asked.
“My man!” Xander exclaimed. “You really shaped him up, Buff. I remember a time when he asked us how we took it so lightly!” Buffy glanced up at Brian and smiled fondly.
“I’m rather proud of myself,” she said. Whoever would have spoken next never got the chance; they were interupted by a rather nasty visitor walking into the library. Buffy, Brian and Xander leaped to their feet, stakes ready, and Cordelia tried to struggle up.
“What are you doing here?” Brian asked coldly. The half-vampire smiled and held out a note; dropped it. It drifted slowly down to the ground.
“From Eythan,” she said, and then was gone, out the door. Buffy nodded to Brian, who went after her at a run. Buffy walked forward and knelt to pick up the note. There were two words, in an unfamiliar hand: I’m here. That was all. But, like another note ten years before, it was enough.
Buffy was alone in the library, going through her workouts by herself. Brian had gone home to get some sleep—he was on night duty later—and Cordelia and Xander had gone back to Willow’s house (where they were staying) so Cordelia could (at Xander’s insistence) get some rest. Giles was out, looking for a book or something somewhere. Willow was still in class, though she’d be out soon. So Buffy was left alone in the library, going through her workouts, her back to the door. So, though she heard him come in, she was not alarmed at first. After all, he gave off no vampire signals, not even the slightly muted ones of a half-vampire.
“Buffy,” he said. And she recognized his voice. After ten years, she recognized it in a milisecond. Because he was who he was. And he was dead. Really dead—not just undead, which he was too. He was really dead. She had killed him. And now he stood in the library, in the daytime and said her name.
She didn’t turn; she couldn’t. She straightened, stiffened, praying. She didn’t know what she was praying for, but she knew she was, to every god that had ever been worshipped. Praying that this was a dream. Praying that she was awake. That she wasn’t crazy. That she was. She didn’t know All she knew was that she prayed. And then he spoke again and she knew it was real.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice quiet, and low, and full of pain and sorrow and remorse, and fear as well. “I don’t bite. Not anymore.” And then—very slowly, very carefully, lest she should wake herself up and find it was only a dream after all—Buffy turned. To see him. To look at him. To know that he was really there.
“Angel?” she whispered. He nodded. Watched her. “I killed you.” He nodded again, then shook his head, then just stood still and watched her. Buffy’s legs collapsed and she sat down on the floor. Hard. He ran over to her and knelt beside her, holding her up.
“When you killed me, you made me human. I don’t know how. I can only assume I didn’t destroy the spell when I . . . when I killed Ms. Calendar, and that someone cast it right as you fought me. As you killed me. Is that true?”
“Willow,” Buffy gasped. “Willow cast it. I didn’t know. I didn’t KNOW. I thought you were gone forever. You were. I KILLED you!”
“No,” Angel said softly. “You made me human in the only way possible.” Their eyes met and she clutched at him.
“Made you human? I killed you! You died! I saw it!” Buffy exclaimed. He shook his head again.
“No. Because of what Willow was doing, because my soul was called as you killed my vampire body, I got a new one. A human one. I’m human, Buffy. Alive. I can walk in the sunlight,” Angel told her.
“But . . . why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come back? Ten years Angel! I thought you were dead . . . that I’d killed you . . . for ten YEARS! You couldn’t have called to say you were alive? Were human?” Buffy exclaimed, becoming slightly hysteric.
“I thought it was better that way. I thought you would move on, find someone who was better for you. Even as a human, I have done too many things. I thought you would find someone you could love without reserve, someone who hadn’t . . . done the things I’ve done,” Angel said softly.
“I could never love anyone else!” Buffy cried out. It was a primal cry, ripped from her, and not true. Which she realized a moment later. Because she did love someone else. Brian. Who had loved her from the beginning. Who had never done anything to hurt her. Whom she loved. Who wasn’t Angel.
He saw it in her face, the remembrance that there was someone else. That he was right, she had found someone else. Someone better for her. And also the knowledge that she still loved Angel, anyway.
“Buffy,” he murmured. They were inches, centimeters apart. Their eyes locked.
“Angel,” she whispered. And then their mouths met. It was all she remembered; more. This was Angel. Who was alive; human. Angel; human. Brian; human too. Human first. She loved them both. One was day and the other was night and there was no choosing, ever. There was only both, loving both, wanting both. Angel. And Brian. And all she could think of was Angel’s mouth on hers.
Buffy turned as the door to the library swung open. They were at the table now, trying to talk. Failing miserably. Willow wheeled in. Stopped. Stared. Stuttered.
“W-w-what? I-I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming, Buffy, right?” Willow asked, appealing to her friend.
“No,” Buffy said, “You’re not. It’s real. He’s real. He’s human. When I killed him, just as you cast the spell, we made him human. He came to help us with Eythan.” Willow turned disbelieving eyes to the once-vampire.
“Angel?” she asked in a small, lost voice.
“Hello Willow. You look the same,” Angel said, smiling slightly. Willow began to cry, and started shaking her head.
“You were dead! For ten years—and I don’t look the same, I’m—”
“Older,” Angel interupted her. “Yes, I know it’s no good to deny it. But I’m older too, you know. Aging isn’t so bad when you don’t for two hundred plus years.” Willow was still shaking her head, and crying, but smiling at the same time, smiling through her tears. She pushed a button and her chair came forward, towards them. She stopped by the table and Angel took her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it doesn’t help. It’s not enough. But I’m sorry all the same.” She nodded, trying to smile at him and tell him it was all right, but the words wouldn’t come. She squeezed his hand. Buffy took his other one, and Willow’s free hand. For a moment it was all right, just the three of them. Forgiving. Forgetting.
Forgetting more than they should.
Because at that moment Brian came in.
Buffy stiffened and let go of Angel’s hand abruptly. He looked up and froze. Willow turned abruptly, releasing both hands, and raised a hand to her mouth and to wipe away her tears when she saw who it was. Brian was watching them uneasily. He didn’t know what Angel looked like, but he could obviously tell something was wrong. Or right.
“Brian,” Buffy managed. “This is—this is Angel. He didn’t die. Somehow he was made into a human because of the spell and he’s come to help us. With Eythan.” She stood up and took a step towards him, then stopped and looked at Angel who was watching Brian without emotion in his face. She looked back to Brian; his gaze was on Angel. Assessing.
“Angel, this is Brian Westing. My-my—” Buffy broke off suddenly, unable to say it, but hating herself for not doing so. Brian looked at her, hurt in his eyes and Buffy walked to him quickly, grabbing his arm. But she couldn’t help looking at Angel. Though his face was still emotionless his eyes were anguished. She could tell. She knew.
“Hello Angel. I never thought I’d meet you. Buffy has told me . . . quite a bit about you,” Brian said, breaking the silence.
“Good, I hope?” Angel asked, a slight mocking edge to his smile. Though Brian stiffened, Buffy knew the mocking was for himself; that’s how Angel was.
“Some,” Brian said. Angel’s expression darkened, reminded of the things he had done. The reasons Buffy had to hate him.
“Angel’s here to help,” Willow said firmly, breaking the stare the two men had been locked in. “We’ll address other issues later. Now we have a Master to deal with. One who can walk around in the daytime.”
“She’s right,” Angel said quickly. “I came because I thought I could help. I’ve been hearing and seeing bad things for the last five years, and I’ve done what I could, but then I found a piece of the prophecy and I knew I needed to come.”
“Why? To save Buffy? She can take care of herself, and I’m here to help her,” Brian pointed out. Buffy shot him a horrible look, but he didn’t see it, intent upon Angel. The former vampire was calm though, and didn’t rise to the bait.
“No,” he said softly, “Because I’m the father the prophecy talks about.”
Buffy gaped, then remembered what she had thought when she first heard the prophecy, five years before. She had immediately thought of Angel. Which meant her first guess had been correct. But she’d thought he was dead then. In fact, she’d used it as an argument that the prophecy would turn false. If this Eythan didn’t kill his father—even if it was only because Buffy had killed him first—the rest of the prophecy could very easily not come true just by default. It was usually an all or nothing kind of thing. But if Angel was here—and was the father—then that squashed all hopes of getting out on a technicality.
"But you—I mean, I thought that—” Willow stammered.
“I didn’t know until lately. After I saw the prophecy I was sure it must have been me and I thought about it and realized when it could have happened . . . It was before I regained my soul. There was this woman, who wanted to be a vampire. I don’t know why. She was evil, corrupt, and she wanted immortality. Of course, I wouldn’t give it to her, precisely because it was what she wanted. I slept with her, and I drained her blood. But I wouldn’t let her have mine. I thought she was dead, but when I thought about it, I realized I never saw her dead, I just assumed she WOULD die. And I researched it and found out that she had lived, and borne a child, and then dissapeared . . . with that child. A boy. Named Eythan. I came as quickly as I could—now, rather quickly. I can take a plane now, after all. Those ‘newfangled flying contraptions.’ I’d never taken one before.” Angel was looking at Buffy on the last, remembering, just as she was. Remembering how he had to go away, for months and months, because he couldn’t fly for fear there would be sunlight.
“Does he know you’re alive?” Brian asked, forgetting his emnity in the dangers of the moment.
“I think so. In Paris, where I spent a long time, and other places around Europe, I killed a few vampires. Any I could find, really. Word’s bound to get to him, though I’m sure he doesn’t know how it happened, or why I’m alive,” Angel said.
“So he’s going to go after you as well as me,” Buffy said. “He has to, to fufill the prophecy He doesn’t kill you, he doesn’t take over the world.”
“Something like that,” Angel said.
“Something like wha—Angel?!” Giles exclaimed, walking into the library. Angel stood up and Buffy leaped up from her perch on the table.
“He didn’t really die. We turned him into a human somehow. He’s Eythan’s father and he’s here to help. Or not get killed,” Buffy explained quickly, then paused for a breath.
“H-How?” Giles asked.
“I don’t know,” Angel said quietly. “Somehow, when Willow called my soul, it . . . formed a new body because my other one . . . my vampire one . . . was gone. A human body.”
“O-oh my. Oh my,” Giles breathed.
“I would say so,” Buffy said. “We were just discussing the fact that to succeed, Eythan has to kill Angel AND me now.”
“Y-yes, it seems so. If Angel is his sire . . . then Eythan will have to kill him to succeed. You’re quite sure Angel?” Giles asked.
“Quite sure,” Angel replied.
“So we keep Angel and Buffy safe. Just like we’ve been planning, only double now,” Brian said.
“Brian, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m the Slayer! I have to fight Eythan,” Buffy told him.
“Not if he’s going to kill you!” Brian exclaimed. Buffy put her hands on her hips and faced him defiantly, glaring up at him though he was almost a foot taller than she was.
“I have to fight him! It’s my sacred duty, remember? There are no ‘give backs’ on this one! I don’t get to pick and choose who I’m going to fight. If I just let him go, he’s going to take over the world even without killing me. Same effect, only a lot less effort for him!” Buffy exclaimed.
“And you’re still alive!” Brian cried. “Besides, I don’t think we should just let thim go. I think I should fight him.”
“Um . . . no offense, because I’ve never seen you fight, but do you really think you have a chance against a Master?” Angel asked, interupting.
“Yes, actually, I do,” Brian replied. “What about you? You’re not a vampire anymore. Can you even fight?”
“My mind remembers, and I’ve had ten years to teach my body again. Yes, I can still fight. Just as well as ever. Maybe better.”
“Okay, now that we got this little male bonding done, can we get on with the discussion?” Buffy asked, stepping between them. “Both of you can fight. I’m impressed. Good for you. That doesn’t change the fact that neither of you are going to be fighting Eythan. I am. Because I’m the Slayer and that’s what I do. Fight vampires. Even ones that are supposed to kill me. If you really want, you cat come and revive me afterwards. In fact, that’d be nice. But besides that, I’m really set. ‘Kay? ‘Kay.” Buffy’s tone brooked no argument, but the looks Angel and Brian exchanged over her head were in perfect agreement for once. Buffy would fight Eythan over their dead bodies.
Which, when you thought about it, was entirely possible.