Title: Fly Away

Rating: R for language

Summary: Rewrite of The Wish (btvs s3) canon up until the fight in the factory. Written for dawn_m for the Back to High School Ficathon. Requirements at the end.

 

 Two    Three   Four   Five   Epilogue

 

 

Chapter One

 -Buffy-

 

            I’d die, and that’s a real possibility, before I’d tell them this but I’ve never seen this many vamps in one place. I’m not even going to hazard a guess about how many there are. I don’t have the time. Everything has boiled down to punches, kicks and stakes. I’m detached though. I always am in a fight. It’s like my body goes into slayer mode and my mind takes this vacation somewhere else. I learned how to do it three years ago. It seems longer then that but the lectures were easier to sit through, easier to hear if I wasn’t really there. A lot of things are like that.

 

            I’m kind of impressed with by the wanna be slayer gang here. And that’s another thing I’ll die before admitting to them. I think we lost the girl, I didn’t catch her name and the guy, Larry, earlier to some of the vamps. I just hope we don’t have to deal with them rising. I’m gonna recommend they incinerate the whole place if we get out of this alive.

           

            The red headed guy they call Oz, the short one, dude is like my size only without slayer skills and he’s kicking some ass. He managed to dust the red head vamp that seemed to be a favorite of this Master.  And the old guy, the watcher, Jeeves, let’s just say it’s nice to see a watcher getting off his white English ass and do something for a change. I’m so used to the asshat Richard in Cleveland it’s surprising to see a watcher do anything besides watch and criticize.

 

            Then there’s the fucked up vamp. I don’t know what his damage is. He’s weak but his rage seems to make up for it. He’s getting some payback out here and helping our cause so for now no stakey stakey. Ouch, shit, way to not duck, Buffy. Let’s try a little more with the focus a little less with the internal ramble.

 

            I swing my legs up from my position flat on my back and wrap them around a vamp’s neck. I flip him to the floor behind me and leap to my feet, slamming a stake through his heart. With a shrug I pick up the two by two he hit me with. It’s always a nice distraction to the vamps when you hit them in the head with something hard and let’s face it, in this crowd I’ll take any distraction I can get.

 

            Out of the corner of my eye I see the Master turning tail and running. I laugh bitterly and start shoving through a mass of panicked humans and equally panicked vamps. I’m almost to the door the Master went through when a hand grabs my wrist. I twist on my heel and a stake stops centimeters from Jeeves’ heart.

 

            “Buffy, let him go. Look around you” he says.

 

            I glance around the factory. It looks like chaos on the surface and it is but the vamps are shoving the people around forming a wall between them and Oz and the fucked up vamp. They’re following their Master’s lead and getting the hell out of Dodge. I jerk my arm and Jeeves holds on tight. I’m impressed the old guy has some strength. Not that I couldn’t put him down with a flick of my wrist but I give him props for trying.

 

            “Let me go. Did you call me down here to scare the vamps or to kill them?” I say.

 

            “Buffy, you may be able to continue with the battle but Oz, myself and the other fellow are weary. We’ve lost two friends to this and we need to fall back and regroup. The Master has lost a large portion of his following. He’ll stay under the radar for a few days at least” Jeeves reasons.

 

            I jerk my arm away from him with ease. “Doesn’t matter now. You’ve wasted so much of my time I’ll never catch him” I say whirling on my heel. I pause and glance around at the damage we’ve done. There are a lot of bodies but there’s more dust.

 

            Jeeves pushes past me and starts checking the pulse on some of the bodies. I watch as Oz does the same. The fucked up vamp just kind of cowers in the corner and watches me. It’s creepy.

 

            “I’ve got a girl who’s alive!” Jeeves shouts out.

 

            Hip hip hurrah for you, I wanna say. I don’t because rude much. Oz scurries over and feels for the girl’s pulse. He brightens noticeably at the idea of finding anyone alive in this massacre. Jeeves picks the girl up.

 

            “We’ve got to get her to the hospital quickly” he says.

 

            “You coming?” Oz asks.

 

            “Nah, I’m more with the dusting then I am with the life saving. I’m going to head back to Jeeves’ place, wash some of this grime off, but hey props to you on the slaying. It was a good job taking down the red-head. I’m pretty sure she was the second in command,” I say.

 

            Oz gets this odd look on his face that I can’t place. He nods slightly. “She was my girlfriend, before…” he trails off.

 

           Jeeves clears his throat and interrupts the stiff silence. “Take the young man over there with you. Make yourself at home. I have extra clothing in the bureau and sandwich things in the icebox” he says.

 

            I start to say something about Jeeves really not wanting to give a vampire an invitation to “make himself at home” but I stop. It’s not like I can’t take blood sucking boy if I have too. He’s a weak as a new born kitten.

 

            I start out of the factory and Vamp boy follows behind me. Joy.

 

            “What do you want?” I stop and snap at him.

 

            “I don’t really think they’re gonna want me around when they find out what I am” he says.

 

            “What makes you think I do?” I snap and start walking again.

 

            He shrugs and falls back behind me. I steel myself against feel pity for him. He’s a monster for Christ’s sake. I don’t feel pity for monsters, I kill them. It’s easy to forget he’s a demon though when he looks at me with those eyes. As far as eyes go, his are good ones to have, deep, dark brown and haunted. I’ve never seen anyone with such haunted eyes. Okay, Buffy, demons remember not date material. Of course with the kind of date material I pick, he might better. Hell if the date sucks, maybe not the best word to use with a vampire in question, at least I can kill him.

 

            “I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go” he says.

 

            “Oh come on isn’t there a moldy crypt in need of a new occupant” I say.

 

            “I had an apartment when I first came here. I had art and sketches and furniture. I’m sure it’s all gone now” he says almost wistfully.

 

            I think I’m beginning to get the picture now.

 

            “Yeah, you die and the landlord tends to clear things out” I say.

 

            “I didn’t die here. They didn’t turn me” he says.

 

            Color me surprised. I figured any vamp going through the abuse it looked like he had been going through was a fledgling.

           

            “So what happened in there? You were their bottom and you got tired of it? Decided the tops had it better?” I say. I stop and turn, waiting for him to catch up to me. If we’re going to have a conversation, I like not having to direct it behind my shoulder.

 

            The vamp cocks an eyebrow at me. “You know about S&M?”

 

            “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” I curl my lip at him and cross my arms defiantly over my chest.

 

            He drops back into submissive mode. I guess it’s something he learned during the whole caged up thing. “No, I’m just surprised. And I wasn’t a bottom. That indicates willingness and I fought against everything they did to me, especially at first”

 

            The last is said in such a whisper that I almost don’t catch it. I nod and we keep walking.

 

            “So you’re out, free. Wanna tell me why you haven’t split, tried to find a fresh meal? I don’t think your stupid enough to try and make a meal out of me” I say.

 

            “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you but I don’t bite, not anymore” he says.

 

            I snort. “Yeah right, you’re all reformed now. I’ve met a lot of vamps since becoming the slayer. I’ve killed a lot more. I’ve never met one that’s reformed” I say.

 

            “I’m the only one” he says.

 

            “And what fucking miracle reformed you?” I ask.

 

            We’re in front of Jeeves’ apartment. I hesitate and dig out the key that Giles gave me earlier. I glance at blood sucking boy and shrug. If Jeeves’ invitation of “Make yourself at home” was enough for him to come in I’ll deal with him if he does try to attack anyone. I unlock the door and step inside. I glance behind me.

 

            Fucked up vamp hesitates on the threshold and then steps inside. He lets out an unnecessary breath, almost like he’s relieved.

 

            “What do I call you? Cuz in my head your Fucked up Vamp and somehow I think maybe I shouldn’t call you that out loud” I say.

 

            “Angel, my name is Angel” he says.

 

 

 -Angel-

 

            She’s in the shower right now and I’m sitting in Giles’ apartment looking around and being supremely uncomfortable. My stomach rumbles, reminding me how hungry I am but I’m used to dealing with the hunger. I haven’t been properly fed since the Master caught me two and a half years ago. At first the hunger was one of the hardest things to deal with but I found out Willow enjoyed it when I gave in to my primal instincts and let it drive me crazy. So little by little I learned how to deal with it. I don’t like it but I can go for days, sometimes even weeks without blood. Willow’s tested my limits, trust me.

 

            I listen to the water run in the shower. I can hear when she’s under the spray because it sounds different pounding on her body then it does on the tile. I remember seeing her sitting on the steps of her high school in Los Angeles. I don’t know what happened. I don’t how she went from that innocent, little girl to the hardened, cynical woman she is today. Somehow I know this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. She’s not the person she’s supposed to be and neither am I.

 

            She doesn’t take long in the shower. She emerges dressed in a pair of sweats and a tank top. Her wet hair is in its thick braid and I remember how it looked loose shining golden to rival the sun. To be honest, that one little memory of her is what kept me sane, or as much as I am, during these two years. I knew looking at her that day that she was my destiny. Now, I don’t know.

 

            “You know, you don’t look so good” she comments.

 

            “Yeah, two and a half years of torture will do that to you” I say dryly.

 

            She just nods and goes to rummage in the fridge. She comes back in the living room with a sandwich. She glances at the couch and the two chairs and shrugs. She sits down on the opposite end of the couch. At least she didn’t choose the chair completely away from me. She probably figures she’s got a better angle on staking me from the couch. She’s guarded and stiff. She’s got a stake stuck at the small of her back in the waistband of her sweats. Not quite ready to believe I don’t bite yet. And I don’t blame her. She shouldn’t trust me, no one should.

 

            I’m almost grateful when Giles and Oz interrupt the silence that is much too awkward.

 

            “Oh, Buffy, glad to see you made it back safely and you made yourself at home” Giles says.

 

            “Yeah, it’s homey. Did you incinerate the factory?” she asks.

 

            “No we were rather afraid it would catch some of the other nearby buildings on fire. We did however place an anonymous call to the morgue” Giles says.

 

            “Oh this is good. We don’t know how many of those people they turned. I wasn’t paying attention to the people they were attacking, were you? You might have just left the Master an entire army to rise. This is great. Tomorrow evening I’m going to have a morgue to clean out” Buffy says. Disgust fills her voice. She gets up, shaking her head. I can hear her mutter under her breath.

 

            “Can these people get any stupider?”

 

            Most likely, Giles and Oz can’t hear her.

 

            “Yes, well, we got the girl to the hospital on time. The doctor believes she will be just fine in a day or two. In any case, I’m going to bed. It has been a long night and in the morning I will have to call Larry and Nancy’s parents in the morning and explain to them why their children are dead” Giles voice cracks just slightly as he says this. He clears his throat.

 

            “Buffy there is an extra bedroom upstairs. And you, I didn’t catch your name” Giles says.

 

            “Angel,” I say.

 

            “Angel, you may sleep on the couch” he says.

 

            “Oh, no that’s alright. I’ve got somewhere to go. Thank you though” I say. I’m not ready to explain myself yet and I can’t risk the danger of open windows.

 

            “Very well then and thank you for your help, Angel. Our losses would have been much greater without your assistance” Giles says.

 

            It makes me feel guilty. I’m a vampire, not worthy of the appreciation I’m getting and if he knew what I was, it’s not likely he’d be as grateful. I lower my gaze and nod. “You’re welcome” I whisper.

 

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this watcher to figure out what I am, who I am and give Buffy the order to kill me and she’d do it. The Buffy I saw sitting on the steps in the sunshine, she might have argued. Not now, she’s been molded in submission much the same way I have. We just reflect it differently.

 

            Giles walks up the stairs to where I presume his bedroom is. Oz nods at us and walks out of the living room. That leaves Buffy and I staring at each other across the room.

 

            “I’m going to go” I say.

 

            “Where will you stay?” She asks.

 

            It feels like my heart leaps in my chest. I forgot what being around her feels like, almost like being alive. I swallow hard and shrug. “Like you said, moldy old crypt somewhere” I say.

 

            She nods and the heart that leapt falls. I took curiosity and turned it into caring. I was wrong she doesn’t care. She’s not the girl I saw in the sunshine and somehow that’s crushing, like finding out Father Christmas doesn’t exist.  The dream I held for two and a half years was just that, a dream and in its place is this cynical, nonchalant, hard woman.

 

-Buffy-

 

 

            I couldn’t sleep. Jeeves is sawing logs in the house and I’m sitting out here in the courtyard watching stars that I can’t see through the smog in Cleveland. It’s kind of nice. I sit cross legged on the paving stones by the fountain and bend at the waist, resting my forehead on the cool stone. I blow my breath out slowly. I’m still keyed up from earlier tonight. I can’t explain it. Yeah I always get itchy after a fight but I generally wind down after a shower. This-I don’t know it’s different. There’s this spot at the base of my spine that tingles and pulls at something deep inside of me

           

          In any case I can’t sleep so I’m out here doing who the hell knows what. Honestly, I’m thinking about the fucked up vampire, Angel. What kind of fucked up name for a vamp is that? And what’s his story? I mean okay maybe he was oppressed or being punished or whatever by this master but he had a free for all buffet with the humans running around like chickens with their heads cut off. He never touched them. In fact he even defended them. And then all that crap he said about being reformed. Vampires don’t reform. They’re demons shoved inside corpses, evil demons. I know all this. It’s been drilled into my head since I was fifteen years old. So why the hell didn’t I stake this guy?

 

          The council is pretty clear on how things work, slayer meet vampire, dead vampire. Not much room for error there.  And yet there’s a vampire walking around tonight probably murdering people because of me. I shove up from the cool stone paving and land nimbly on the balls of my feet. I jog out of the courtyard intent on finding the vamp I let get away. I came here to stop the body count, not increase it.

 

          The weirdness I’ve been feeling all night stays with me as I walk down the street and turn into the park. I stop near the playground, tired of the game we’re playing.

 

          “Alright, whoever you are, I’m tired and I really don’t have time for this. Show yourself” I say to the empty night air.

 

          Why doesn’t it surprise me when he steps out of the shadows? I bow my head and pinch the bridge of my nose.

 

          “Why were you following me?” I ask.

 

          He shrugs, sticking, for the most part to the deep shadows of the trees. “It’s a long story and I’m not really sure your patient enough to hear it without staking me.”

 

          “Oh for God’s sake, I could have staked you a dozen times without breaking a sweat in Jeeves’ apartment” I say.

 

          “His name is Giles” Angel says.

 

          “Yeah, whatever” I roll my shoulders and crack my neck carelessly. That tingly tugging feeling is getting stronger.

 

          “He’s-he was supposed to be important to you” Angel says.

 

          I arch an eyebrow at him. “You know I think whatever they did to you in that cage has driven you sort of insane.”

 

          “No, it’s just-I know what was supposed to happen. He told me what was going to happen and then something went wrong, something changed and you never came” Angel says.

 

          Ok, so at least I know what the bullshit he was spouting about being reformed was all about. He’s insane. I know sustained torture can drive a human insane but I thought vamps got off on it. I mean pain, sex, blood, those are supposed to be the things they live for.

 

          “Look, Vamp boy, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about but the more you talk the less I believe. I’m going to give you a five second head start because truthfully, shape your in you won’t even be enough to work off this itch I’ve got” I say.

 

          “Give me a chance to explain myself, then if you want to stake me I’ll play whatever game you want” Angel says.

 

          Well it beats sitting in Jeeves’ living room listening to him snore all night. I walk over and sit on one of the swings. Angel watches me wearily from the shadows. He steps from the trees and begins to pace in front of the merry go round.

 

          “You asked me earlier what miracle reformed me. It wasn’t a miracle, it was an atrocity, the final atrocity in a string of so many. I fed on a girl about your age one night. She was a favorite of her clan, the gypsies. When they found out-as payment for my sins they cursed me with my soul” Angel says.

 

          “I thought gypsies were more vengeful then that. I would have gone with a sharp stake through the heart” I say.

 

          Angel shakes his head. “When you become a vampire the demon takes your body, but your soul it goes somewhere else leaving you free to kill, maim and torture with a song in your heart, no conscience, no guilt. It’s an easy way to live. You have no idea what it’s like to have done the things I’ve done and care.” He catches and holds my eyes for just a moment when he says that and I begin to suspect the haunted look in his eyes has nothing to do with whatever torture he endured in that cage.

 

          I swallow hard. “There are a lot of people with souls walking around doing evil things” I say.

 

          Angel nods. “People have their own kind of monster, maybe that’s why it’s so hard to believe in vampires and demons because they still haven’t dealt with the human monsters. And yes people with souls do horrible, awful things to each other. It all depends on the soul. I wasn’t a good man when I was human but I was a kind man. I wasn’t evil. I couldn’t have done the things I did as a vampire. It’s not in my soul to do that.”

 

          I press my fingers to my temples and sit there swaying gently back and forth trying to process what this vampire is telling me.

 

          “Why doesn’t the council have any records of this?” I ask.

 

          “When I got my soul I stopped killing, I stopped feeding on humans. I guess I dropped off their map. They have no interest in a vampire that doesn’t act like a vampire” he says.

 

          “So that’s it, boom, bang you get a spanking new soul and all the sudden you switch teams?” I ask. I launch myself up from the swing and Angel skitters back into the shadows, completely hidden in the dark.

 

          “Oh for God’s sake, did I mention I could have staked you at least a dozen times already? You know whatever. I really don’t need this shit. I’m just passing through, trying to kill a master vamp, do Sunnydale a favor and get the fuck back to Cleveland where I belong” I say.

 

I whirl on my heel and stalk off.  As I do I swear I hear Angel whisper “Except that you don’t.”

 

Whatever, I keep walking. This is getting too weird, even for me. Somehow I know Angel isn’t following me this time. He’s still standing in the shadows and the tingling tugging feeling fades the further I get away from him.

 

-Angel-

 

I watch her walk away from the shadows and the feeling of almost being alive fades the further she gets from me. I can’t stand it. It’s like dying all over again so I follow her back to Giles’ house at a very safe distance.  My stomach rumbles again and I’m reminded that I’m either going to have to go back on rats soon or come up with some means of buying blood from the butcher shop here in town.

 

I’m standing outside her open window. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of her breathing, the rush of her blood, the pound of her heartbeat. Her heartbeat is much too loud, too strong, for someone her size.

 

“Back to stalking her, I see” a voice says.

 

My eyes snap open, expecting to see the Master or one of his minions. I’m surprised when I find it’s the badly dressed demon that set me on this path in the first place.

 

“Whistler, I’d say it’s good to see you again but it’s not” I say.

 

“You’re looking worse for the wear there” Whistler says.

 

I cringe at his observation. I’m sure he’s right and I can only imagine how Buffy must see me. “What happened? She was supposed to be here and I came and waited. She never showed up” I whisper.

 

“We didn’t see it coming. I don’t know happened but she went to the Cleveland Hellmouth instead” Whistler says.

 

“And I was left here to play Puppy to the vamps” I say.

 

“Sorry ‘bout that, man, really” Whistler says.

 

“So what now? Are you sending me somewhere else?” I ask.

 

“No, we’re trying to make this right, pulling all the strings we can. Some strings just don’t wanna be pulled. Powers sent me. Wanted you to have this” Whistler says handing me a fat manila envelope.

 

I quirk an eyebrow at him and take it warily. 

 

“Go ahead and open it, s’not gonna bite” Whistler says.

 

I open the envelope carefully and pull out a thick wad of cash, and a set of keys.

 

“You’ve still got an apartment. All of your things are still in it. We manipulated a few things, figured we owed you that much” Whistler says.

 

I nod and swallow hard.  “Thanks” I force myself to say but Whistler is gone and in his wake he leaves the smell of cheap scotch and cheaper cologne.

 

It’s getting close to dawn when I finally leave her window. I stop by the butcher on the way back to my old apartment and get enough blood for a couple of days.  I’m almost surprised when the keys to the apartment work. I keep expecting the rug to be pulled out from under me.

 

The apartment is exactly the way I left it, albeit a bit dustier. It doesn’t matter. I’ll have several hours of brilliant sunlight to clean it. I glug one large plastic container of blood while the other is warming in the microwave it takes the edge off the hunger gnawing at me. I drink the second container a bit slower. When I’m finished I poke around a bit. Gratitude washes over me when I realize the water is still on and it’s hot.

 

I strip off the ragged clothing I’m wearing and toss it in the trash. I turn the water as hot as it will go and wait until it steams up the small bathroom. I step under the pounding, scalding spray and let it sluice over my head and body. I watch as the dirty water swirls down the drain.  I unwrap a new bar of unscented Ivory soap and breathe in the smell of it. Yes unscented has a smell, it’s just not strong enough for humans to detect.  I scrub my hair three times with shampoo before it feels clean and then I stand under the shower until the water runs cold.

 

I pull black sweats and a white wife beater out of the chest of drawers and put them on. My sculpture is still in its glass case, my sketches are still framed on the walls. I close my eyes against it all and the last two years overtake me. I crumple on the floor. Tears clench my throat tight and flood my eyes, washing down my cheeks. She’s here. She finally came.

 

*

 

It’s broad daylight outside. I can smell it. I’m tossing and turning in a bed that’s too soft. The blankets keep getting twisted around my legs and they feel heavy. I finally give up and get out of bed. I lay down on the rug near the couch curled into a ball. It’s not long before I’m sound asleep. It doesn’t surprise when she haunts my dreams. She has for as long as I can remember, even before I saw her. I don’t know how or why except that Whistler was right so long ago. She is my destiny.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

-Buffy-

 

            I wake up and for a moment I can’t remember where I’m at but I know the bed is softer then the one at home. Someone, probably Jeeves, came in and covered me with an extra blanket and shut the window I left open. I throw on my camouflage pants and a black tank. I shove my feet into tennis shoes and braid my hair quickly.  I jog down the stairs without any noise. I learned a long time noise draws attention and the attention in my case is generally not a good thing.

 

            Jeeves is surprised when I snatch some kind of biscuit off the plate in front of him.

 

            “Oh, Buffy, good you’re awake. Did you sleep well?” he asks.

 

            Why the fuck does he care? Doesn’t matter how I sleep. It’s not like it’ll stop me from doing my job, but whatever. I shrug. “Yeah, it was fine. Thanks” I say. For some reason I hadn’t pointed out that his snoring kept me up a good portion of the night. Off my game I guess.

 

            “Would you like some tea? And please have another scone” Jeeves says with a gesture to the teapot and the plate of biscuits in front of him.

 

            “Sure” I say.

 

            He pours me a cup of tea and gets me my own little plate for the things he calls scones. I pour cream into my tea and add about six lumps of sugar. I notice Jeeves smiling at me. Makes me think he’s up to something or else I’ve fucked something up, offended his English sensibility or something. Whatever, I’m not gonna mention it if he doesn’t.

 

            “Oz will be over later. He’s rather good with that computer thing. He’s going to do some kind of searching on real estate and see perhaps if he can ascertain where the Master might have retreated. Do you need to call your watcher, Richard, and let him know how things went so he won’t be concerned?” Jeeves asks.

 

            I snort with laughter. “Concerned why the fuck would he be concerned? Nah, I’ll talk to him when I get back to Cleveland.”

 

            Jeeves draws his eyebrows together and creases his forehead all up. I notice he’s got a very faint scar that bisects his forehead. It’s only visible when he wrinkles up his forehead. It makes me wonder where he got it, not that I care but it’s unusual in my experience for Watchers to step outside their comfy libraries long enough to get injured. He takes his glasses off and cleans them on his shirt.

 

            “Yes, very well then. I thought perhaps he would be concerned for your welfare” Jeeves says.

 

            “No reason for him to be. I die another gets called and he gets the benefit of a paycheck with no job” I say.

 

            “Buffy, it’s not as cut and dried as that” Jeeves says.

 

            “No, it kind of is” I say.

 

            Jeeves stands up and starts to pace. He continues cleaning his glasses, which I’m sure must have been clean a while ago.

 

            “Your theory is correct. When you die another slayer will be called, but it’s just not that simple. We’re talking about your life” Jeeves says.

 

            “Yeah and it’s expendable. I’m a soldier, Jeeves, warrior against the evil and all that shit. Soldiers die” I say.

 

            Jeeves replaces his glasses and smile sadly at me. “That doesn’t mean we don’t mourn their passing.”

 

 

 

-Angel-

 

 

            “Buffy, what’s going on? Where are we? I-I don’t remember” I say softly. My voice is filled with confusion and pain.

 

            “Angel?” Buffy says.

 

            “You’re hurt” I say noticing the cut on her arm.

 

            I put my arms around her and hold her close. I bury my nose in her hair, taking deep breathes of her. She smells confused and hurt and afraid. I don’t know why she’s all of these things. I can’t remember.

 

            “Oh Buffy…God. I-I feel like I haven’t seen you in months. Oh, my God, everything’s so muddled. I-“ I stop and hold her closer, tighter, trying to make everything okay the only way I know how.

 

            “Oh,” I say and kiss her on the shoulder “oh, Buffy.”

 

            She starts crying. I know because I smell it. She buries her head in my shoulder and lets the tears soak my black, silk shirt. I can hear a rumbling behind me but I don’t want to let her go to find out what it is. She pulls back from a little bit and looks up into my face. Her eyes are painted with pain and tears.

 

            “What’s happening?” I ask, growing more confused by the moment.

 

            “Shhh, don’t worry about it” she says.

 

            Buffy brushes her fingers across my lips and my cheek. My heart soars at her touch and I can’t figure out why there’s all the confusion and the pain and the tears. She’s touching me what could possibly be wrong? She lays her hand on my cheek and kisses me so softly. I can taste the tears on her lips. I deepen the kiss, making it more passionate, filling it with want and need and desire, replacing all the pain, all the confusion. Buffy breaks off the kiss and looks deeply into my eyes.

 

            “I love you” she whispers.

 

            “I love you” I respond.

 

            “Close your eyes” she whispers and her voice cracks just a little.

 

            She nods at me slightly, reassuring me and I close my eyes, trusting in her completely. She kisses me again and it tastes like goodbye and that’s confusing too. This isn’t goodbye this is hello again, this is forever, this is always.

 

            And then the pain slices through me. It consumes my body and my eyes fly open. I gasp for breathe and watch as Buffy backs away slowly. I look down and there’s a sword stuck in my gut. I look back up at Buffy for answers but there are none. She’s crying and backing further away with every second. I hold my hand out to her, reaching for my salvation, the only salvation I’ve ever had.

 

            “Buffy,”

 

            And I wake up screaming her name.

 

            I sit up shaky and covered in a cold sweat. I rub at my abdomen, the place where the sword in the dream went through. I even look down, searching for a mark of any kind, expecting to see the sword still protruding. 

 

            “Just a dream” I say to the silence of my apartment. Somehow I know it wasn’t though. It was almost like memory except I think I’d remember Buffy sticking a sword through me and sending me into a portal to somewhere. I think I’d remember Buffy kissing me and I think I’d remember Buffy loving me. I know I’d remember loving Buffy, all my existence I’d remember loving Buffy.

 

 I get up from my ‘bed’ on the rug and wander into the bathroom. It’s probably a little excessive to take another shower but it’s a luxury I haven’t really indulged in for a very long time so I blast the hot water on and take another long shower.

 

            I dress in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt. I indulge in another luxury, or at least it seems like one after the past couple of years, fresh blood two days in a row. I drink my fill and it’s odd that I’m not hungry.  I spend the rest of the day cleaning up the apartment, changing bed sheets, which might take me a while to get comfortable sleeping in again. I seem to remember it did the first time too.

 

            By the time I’m finished it’s nearly dusk. I pace in my apartment a little while longer just waiting until its safe to go outside. I’d almost forgotten about playing this game, waiting and somehow the waiting grows longer when I’m anxious to be out there instead of cooped up.

 

            Finally the sun slips below the horizon. I grab a mid length black leather jacket from the closet and toss it over my clothes and slip into the night. My first stop is the morgue. I know Buffy mentioned cleaning it out last night. If she’s really walking into a nest I want to be sure she’s got some backup, although she might not thank me for it in the end.

 

            On the way to the morgue I can’t help but think of my dream again. That place just below my rib cage still aches and it’s not from anything Willow ever did to me.  It’s a deeper ache, bone deep, soul deep. I can hear a scuffle going on inside the morgue as I approach so I pick up the pace. She left the door open, or maybe one of the vamps did the shatter job on the glass.

 

            I pause at the door of the main autopsy room and she literally stops me in my tracks. She’s gorgeous to watch. She’s all fluid grace and power. She braces her hands on the edge of a steel autopsy table and kicks her legs up, twisting in the air as she does. She hits two of the vamps under the chin, knocking them back. She snatches a nasty looking cleaver of some sort up and tosses it at the first vamp, the one that stumbled against the wall. The cleaver has deadly aim, slicing through the vamp’s neck and sticking in the wall. The new vamp is dust before he can utter a sound.

           

            That seems to scare the second vamp because he decides fleeing might be an option. I catch him at the door and toss him back into the room. He lands on his back on the table where Buffy is still standing. She whips a stake from behind her back and shoves it through the vamp’s heart. The vamp leaves a fine layer dust all over the table.

 

            “Thanks” she says.

 

            I nod. “I’m glad I could help.”

 

            “Yeah, so what are you doing here? Don’t you have people to eat, a Master to find and grovel too?” She asks. Her voice is hard and cynical again. It seems like every bit of head way I made with her last night is gone.

 

            “Buffy, I don’t feed off people anymore and I was never at the Master’s by choice. I’m not one of his vampires anymore” I say.

 

            “Anymore? But you were” she says. She jumps up on top of the morgue table and sits there staring at me, swinging her legs and waiting for an answer.

 

            I sigh. “A long time ago, I was. I’m two hundred and forty three years old, Buffy. That’s a lot of history. I’ve done a lot of things I regret but that’s the point now, I regret them.”

 

            “Yeah kind of like Jeeves is gonna regret the hell out of not incinerating the entire factory when I tell him I dusted six vamps in the morgue” she says.

 

            Six, she took on six by herself. Worry crashes over me and I start looking for wounds, any sign that she’s hurt.

 

            “Are you okay?” I ask.

 

            She shrugs. “One of them got a hold of knife. There’s a cut on my shoulder blade but I can’t see it. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to kill me,” she says.

 

            I swallow my worry and fear. It’s a thick knot in my stomach. “Can I see?” I ask.

 

            She shrugs again. “Sure, just remember it doesn’t impair my staking ability in case you get any ideas being so close to my neck.”

 

            I sigh and nod. I deserve it I know but that doesn’t mean I like hearing it, especially from her. “I’ve already eaten tonight, pig’s blood from the butcher,” I say.

 

 I walk over to her, careful to stay out of reach, not because I’m worried about her. If she stakes me, well after the dream I’m not so sure it’s not supposed to happen that way.  I stay out of reach because I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.

 

            Once I get behind her I creep closer, slowly and I know it’s not just because I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. In part it is because I’m afraid of the way touching her will make me feel. If being in the same vicinity can make me feel almost alive, what’s actually touching her skin going to do? I’m about to find out and I wonder when the walls in here started closing in.  I reach out a hand and I’m trembling. She’s got a long 5 inch gash that goes diagonally across her shoulder blade. I move aside the thin strap of her black tank and swallow hard. Her skin is hot to the touch and so silky smooth. I feel like I’m drowning, like I can’t catch my breath and I’m having a heart attack, all impossible things for a vampire to feel and yet.

 

            “So is it going to kill me?” She asks.

 

            I clear my throat and snatch my hand back. “No, it could use some antiseptic and a bandage though” I say.

 

            She jumps from the table and dusts her hands over her rear end and I can’t help but notice it’s a nice rear end.

 

            “Okay then we’ll go back to Jeeves’-“

 

            “Giles” I correct her.

 

            “We’ll go back the English guy’s house and fix up my shoulder and see if the short dude has found anything out” she says.

 

            “His name is Oz” I say.

 

            “What is your obsession with names?” She asks.

 

            I shrug. “It-humanizes people when you know their names and it’s respectful to use them” I say.

           

            “Whatever” she says.

 

            In the short time I’ve known her I realize this is Buffy’s way of putting up a wall, keeping that defense high. I can’t even see the top it’s so high. I don’t know how Whistler or the Powers are ever going to fix this but no matter what they do, it’s got to be better then it was.

 

 

-Buffy-

 

            He’s walking at least three feet behind with his head down. It would bother me, make me nervous if it weren’t such a submissive position. And that kind of creeps me out. I mean I’m kind of used to being the one in charge. I’m the take charge girl, but I’m not used to people being so damn submissive around me.  He’s a fucking vampire at least act like you’ve got some balls for Christ sake.

 

            “Can we drop the whipped puppy routine ‘cause if you haven’t noticed I’m into staking them not torturing them so you’ve got no worries around me” I snap.

 

            “Sorry, it kept me alive while I was there” he mumbles and I instantly feel bad for snapping at him which is ridiculous hello vampire not a human being.

 

            “Yeah well you’re not in the cage anymore” I say. It’s the closest I can come to an apology to him.

 

            “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that” he says.

 

             I can’t help but notice that he’s cleaned up. He’s got on nice clothes and he’s taken a shower recently. His hair is still sticking up in that funny ‘I just got out of bed and couldn’t be bothered to comb my hair’ way but then I guess, no reflection he’s got an excuse unlike most of the guys in Cleveland. He looks like a regular Joe, okay a really pale, really handsome regular Joe but most people certainly wouldn’t point and say vampire. And I so don’t need to be thinking about a demon being handsome. I shake my head, trying to get rid of that idea. I draw back my shoulders and wince as it pulls on the cut.

 

            “Are you okay?” He says and I wanna slap him and tell him not to sound so damned concerned. I’m his mortal enemy not his friend.

 

            “I’m fine. I just forgot it was cut. It must be starting to heal because it pulls like its scabbing” I say.

 

            “Hold up a second and I’ll look at it again” he says.

 

            I stop and he jogs up behind me. I bow my head and look at the sidewalk focusing on the crack that runs along it. Grass is beginning to grow there. I will myself not to shiver when he touches me. Myself doesn’t listen. It surprises me, his touch, I expected it to be colder or harder or something but it’s not. His hands are cool, like the air from a fan. His touch is so gentle, so light and I can feel him trembling. I guess being this close to your mortal enemy is terrifying, or at least it should be. Shouldn’t it? Only I’m not, terrified that is. My heart is pounding, my breath is hard to draw, like my lungs are squeezed to tight and I feel dizzy almost like I’ve got a flu bug but none of it is from terror.

 

            “You broke it open again but it’s not even bleeding that much this time” he says.

 

            I nod and step away from him. “Thanks let’s just get to Giles’ and get it patched up” I say.

 

            He doesn’t point out that I finally said Jeeves’ name right.

 

*

 

            “So you staked six vampires in the morgue” Giles says.

 

            “And somehow I told you so doesn’t seem enough” I snap.

 

            My bad mood could have something to do with the searing pain Giles is putting me through by repeatedly dabbing alcohol on my shoulder blade. Yes I’m the slayer, yes I handle pain better then regular people that doesn’t mean I like it. The bad mood could also have to do with Angel cowering in the corner of the couch like I’m going to start spraying him with holy water. I can’t help but notice he never takes his eyes off of me. Paranoid much? I mean how many more times can I stress if I wanted him dead I would have killed him by now.

 

            “You know, Giles I really don’t need all this antiseptic and sterilizing and bandaging. I’m the slayer the healing kind of comes naturally” I say.

 

            “Yes well, better safe then sorry” he says.

 

            He smoothes on the last piece of tape and I stand up quickly, shying out of the way. I’m not used to all this worry and attention. It makes me uncomfortable hands touching me and voices lowered in concern. I’m the slayer. I’m in danger that’s part of the deal so is dying. I know it’s going to happen and I’ll be young when it does. It’s part of the gig, like I told Giles. I’m a soldier I was made to die. It’s my job.

 

            “So, Oz, you find anything that looks like the Master could be hiding out?” I ask.

 

            “Not really. The problem with Sunnydale is there are a lot of abandoned buildings. He could be in any of them. They don’t seem real keen on actually buying the real estate and leaving a paper trail” Oz says.

 

            “Those crazy uncooperative vamps” I grumble.

 

            I pace the living room filled with restless energy. That tingling tugging feeling is back and it’s driving me a little crazy. I shouldn’t still be this keyed up after a fight. I grab my right elbow with my left hand and pull it across my body to pop my shoulder. I feel cool fingers on my arm.

 

            “Buffy, don’t you’ll break the cut open again” Angel says softly. He snatches his fingers away the moment he says it, as if I burn.

 

            I release my elbow and resume my pacing. I run my fingers through my hair and grumble.

 

            “I gotta get outta here and do something. I’m gonna go crazy with the waiting” I say. I snatch up a couple of stakes and shove them in the back waistband of my pants. I tuck a bottle of holy water in one of my pockets.

 

            “I’ll come with you” Angel says.

 

            I start to tell him no, stay with Giles and Oz but it’s clear he’s uncomfortable around them and while he’s not exactly comfortable with me at least I know what he is. I nod and jerk my head toward the door.

 

            “We’ll be back in a few hours, Jeeves” I say.

 

            “Giles and yes we’ll be here trying to dig up what we can on the Master” Giles says.

 

*

 

            We’re walking through one of the cemeteries in Sunnydale, there are twelve which surprises me because it’s a small town. Cleveland doesn’t even have that many. The cemeteries here are prettier, big, old ornate headstones and lots of crypts. Cleveland’s cemeteries are more organized, low flat headstones everything laid in neat rows. There’s a certain kind of poetry to Sunnydale cemeteries. They look the way cemeteries should.

 

          I toss my stake up into the air and catch it behind my back. Angel trails along behind me. I pause at a big double headstone and sit down on it. Angel sits on the headstone across from me.

 

                   “So you’re two hundred and forty three years old, how long have you had the soul?” I ask.

 

          He grimaces, as if it’s a difficult conversation to have. “A century, give or take a few years” he says.

 

          I nod. “So before you were the Master’s pet, what did you do?”

 

          He looks down at his feet. I watch him as he white knuckles the tombstone. “Not much. I hung out in alleys a lot, fed off…well I didn’t eat gourmet and before you say it I didn’t feed off humans. I haven’t, not since the day I got my soul.” He casts a quick glance at me and then looks back down to his feet.

 

          “So what changed?” I ask.

 

          He takes a deep breath and I wonder why he bothers. It’s not as if he needs to breathe. It doesn’t even have any benefits as far as I know. I always thought vampires did the breathing thing to trick humans, make them think their human. I know he’s not human so I don’t understand the breathing.

 

          “A guy sort of like an immortal saint working for the Powers that be looked me up in New York. He asked me if I wanted to become someone, contribute to society and get out of the existence I was in. It’s not like I had a lot of other offers so I got in a car with him” he stops and fidgets. He stands up and paces.

 

          “Where did he take you?” I finally ask, curious to hear more about how a vampire with a soul came to be here of all places.

 

          “If I tell you this, you got to believe me. I-I wouldn’t have known except Whistler, the guy, showed me. He said he had something to show me, something that was going to change my life. Something the Powers wanted me to see,” Angel says. He glances nervously at me.

 

          I narrow my eyes and touch my hand to the small of my back where the stake is stashed in my waistband. The tingling tugging feeling is giving me some weird vibes now and my stomach flutters with butterflies.

 

          “Drop the cryptic and just tell me” I say.

 

          “I saw you, before you were called. He showed me you. You were sitting on the stairs in front of your school. You had a lollipop and you were talking to your friends. The sun was shining on you. He told me you were going to have it hard, that you could use some help and more then anything in my life I wanted to make things easier for you. Your entire life was about to change and you had no idea” he says.

 

          “You bastard, you fucking stalked me!” I yell and spring up from the tombstone. I launch a roundhouse kick that he ducks. He doesn’t get so lucky with the right hook I sling his way. I catch him in the jaw and he stumbles back.

 

          “No, Buffy I swear. I didn’t. Whistler told me you were my destiny. I was supposed to help you” Angel says.

 

          “I bet that works for most of fucking air heads out there, gets them right in your bed. Do they let you bite them after you fuck them or do you just drain them? Maybe this whole soul shit is just that, shit all designed to fuck with the slayer, make me weak, easy prey for the Master here” I catch him in the gut with a side kick and he flies through the air landing on his back with a whoof.  I straddle him and hold my stake centimeters above his heart.

 

          He shakes his head. “I’m telling the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you. If I had wanted to I could have walked in Giles’ house last night while you were sleeping and killed you or him.” He puts his hands up and looks away submissively. I shove myself off of him and turn my back. I can’t kill something that fucking submissive. It’d be like whipping a cowed dog and I like dogs.

 

          He gets to his feet slowly and backs off a little ways. I glance over my shoulder and he’s standing slightly hunched in the shadows.

 

          “Where did you get the clothes, the shower?” I ask.

 

          “Whistler, last night after you left he showed up again. He gave me some cash and the keys to my apartment. It had been kept exactly the way I’d left it. He said the Powers were trying to make things right.” he says.

 

          “If I was your fucking destiny, what happened?” I ask.

 

          Angel steps out of the shadows toward me just a little bit. “I don’t know. After Whistler showed you to me, he brought me here, set me up with the apartment, some cash. He told me to establish contacts, get used to the town. He said you would be here. He said something would happen in Los Angeles and that you and your mother would come here. Rupert Giles was supposed to be your watcher.”

 

          I shake my head. “No fucking way. Your friend, I don’t know how he knew about me but he sold you some beach side property in Arizona” I say.

 

          “What happened, Buffy?” Angel asks.

 

 

-Angel-

 

          My jaw hurts like hell. In all my years, I’ve never been hit by a slayer. I avoided them. Now I know why. She hits like a two ton wrecking ball. There’s blood on the corner of my mouth and I don’t want to lick it. I’m afraid she’ll see. I don’t know why I’m afraid of her seeing, it’s not like she doesn’t know what I am. She knows I drink blood. I wipe at the corner of my mouth and watch her. I’m careful to wipe the blood off my hand onto my pants but the instinct to lick it off is there lying under the surface.

 

          She’s pacing between the headstones. She’s all coiled power and strength like a jaguar waiting to pounce.  She shakes her head and pulls her thick braid over her shoulder. She pulls the band holding it out and works her fingers through it. Her hair cascades around her shoulders and down her back in golden ripples. In 243 years she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

 

          “What happened? You want to know what the fuck happened? People died, more vamps died and I got sent to Cleveland. I was never sure if being sent to a Hellmouth was like a Slayer promotion or not.  My Dad wasn’t around much so I ended up living with the asshat, Richard. Besides in the immortal words of Hank Summers ‘Richard is better equipped to deal with what you are’” Buffy says.

 

          She hasn’t told me anything personal and yet I ache for her. The pain and bitterness overflows into her every word, her every action and I know that there had to have been a lot of details between now and then that built her armor.

 

          “So you lived with your Dad, not your Mom?” I say, probing for something more personal, some clue that changed my sunshine girl into what she is today.

 

          Buffy laughs bitterly and the sound cracks the night air. “Yeah, after I burned down the gym and did that stint in the mental hospital Mom decided I was just too much juvenile delinquent and that Dad was better equipped to handle me.”

 

          My throat closes. They’d put her in a mental hospital. My mind rushes to provide me with visions of my sunshine girl locked into restraints, being pumped full of drugs and being told by oblivious doctors that there is no such thing as vampires or demons. Then once she’d gotten out they’d passed her back and forth between homes like a stray cat.

 

          “Buffy, they shouldn’t have…” I trail off. I don’t know what to say to her.

 

          “Yeah maybe not but they did. You know Dad never did apologize for the mental hospital after he found out that there were vampires, that I was a slayer. He just handed me over to Richard and agreed I was better off living there. Anyway, fuck it. It doesn’t matter” she says.

 

          “Yes it does” I force the words out of my throat.

 

          She shakes her head and turns her back to me. She’s trying hard not to cry but I can smell the very faint tinge of salt. She swipes at her eyes and turns back toward me.

 

          “Not to the right people” she says.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

-Buffy-

 

 

            I’m laying on the bed in Jeeves’-Giles’ whatever the Watcher’s house and the sun in just beginning to peek through the open window.  I get up to close the window and can’t resist a peek out into the courtyard. Logically I know he’s gone and safely ensconced in his apartment, or at least he better be because nice bright morning sun out there.

 

            I close the blinds and climb back in bed. I turn on my side and cuddle the extra pillow. We spent all night last night patrolling only it was pretty quiet. I’m sure the Master is keeping everything on the lowdown so he doesn’t draw attention to himself. I only staked two vamps the entire night and they were some brain trusts that were scouting around the alley behind the coffee shop.

 

            So in all actuality, we spent most of the night talking. I mean it wasn’t some big gabfest where we bared our souls or some shit like that. It was just-I don’t know. We talked about the nicer parts of our lives. He’s had a really long one and it’s kind of amazing the things he’s seen. He reads a lot which I don’t get sometimes because I’m not much for reading but then maybe I would have been if it weren’t for the slayer thing.  In any case he makes history and Shakespeare and poetry a lot more interesting then any of my teachers ever did.

 

            He tried to get me to talk about life in Cleveland but I didn’t want to ruin the night. It was nice. I kind of felt like a real girl for a change, I mean yeah I know that when you add up all the circumstances it sounds dumb to say that. I mean I’m walking through cemeteries with a two hundred and forty three year old vampire. It doesn’t really lend itself to feeling normal, but I did, almost.

 

            So now I’m laying here bed not sleeping and trying to remember this is a vampire we’re talking about. He’s different though, I mean besides the soul, duh. He reads and he knows all this stuff and he talks pretty and when he listens he really, really listens, like with his whole body.  And that’s different for me. I’m the slayer but no one really listens to me, no one really sees me. Angel sees me. And I gotta admit being seen is kind of nice.

 

*

 

            I take off the light cardigan I’m wearing and wince as it pulls away from a cut on my shoulder.

 

            “What?” Angel asks. He’s standing a few feet away with his back turned while I change.

 

            “Oh, uhm…it’s okay. I just have a cut or something” I say.

 

            “Can I…lemme see” he says.

 

            I clutch my cardigan to my chest, suddenly acutely embarrassed to be changing in front of him, even though his back is turned, even though I’ve done it before. Maybe it’s because I’m sitting on his bed in his apartment and we’re completely alone.

 

            “Okay” I whisper.

 

            Angel turns around and walks over to the bed. He sits down behind me. He touches my back so gently, cool fingers just brushing my over heated skin. It’s always overheated when he’s around.

 

            “It’s already closed. You’re fine” he whispers.

 

            I lean back against him, resting my weight on him, cradling my face up to his. His arms wrap around me and pull me closer, like he’ll never ever let go and I don’t want him to.

           

            “You almost went away today” I half choke out.

 

            “We both did” he whispers huskily.

 

            I can’t keep my sobs in any longer. “Angel, I feel like I lost you. You’re right though, we can’t be sure of anything.”

 

            “Shhh…I” he stops suddenly.

 

            I turn around to face him, searching those deep chocolate pools for a hint at what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking.

 

            “You what?” I prod. I swallow hard. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time, it feels like my whole life.

 

            “I love you. I try not to, but I can’t stop” he says and the emotion behind the words chokes him.

 

            He said it. He finally said it. I’ve known it as long as I’ve been alive but to actually hear him say the words. I swallow the sobs that threaten to overtake me again. It’s really not good to cry when a guy says I love you.

 

            “Me, me too. I can’t either” I confess. I know I shouldn’t love him. He’s a vampire, I’m a slayer but the heart wants what it wants. My heart definitely wants Angel.

 

            We melt into this kiss. It’s the kind that makes you all weak knee’d and fainty. The kind that makes the world just slip away. He teases at my lips, nipping, tasting. I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him in deeper. And then he breaks it off.

 

            “Buffy, maybe we shouldn’t…” he starts.

 

            I place my fingers over his lips, silencing him. “Don’t. Just kiss me.”

 

            My eyes fly open and I sit straight up in bed. My breath is coming in great gasps.

 

            “What the fuck was that?” I whisper to the empty room. I scrub my hands over my face and through my hair. I’ve had a lot of dreams. I’ve even had a few prophecy dreams but that was vivid, like complete surround sound, hills are alive with music vivid. I touch my fingers to my lips and I swear they feel like their swollen in that really good I kissed all night way.  I shake my head to clear it. This is ridiculous. There’s no way a dream and me and Angel kissing and doing the other things the dream implied, is prophecy. It’s just not. My choice of relationships is not world in peril stuff.

Besides, vampire remember, slayer, no datey no kissy.

 

            I climb out of bed and hit the shower, hoping some hot water will clear out the cobwebs of that dream. I get dressed in some cargo pants and a pink tank. Yes I know my wardrobe doesn’t change much. It’s not like I have to be pretty to slay vamps.  Trust me, they don’t notice. I clatter down the stairs, trying to make some noise. I notice Giles seems to be more comfortable when I do.

 

            “Good afternoon, Buffy. I dare say you had a late night?” Giles says.

 

            “Yeah, Angel and I patrolled all over Sunnydale. There wasn’t much in the way of vampires though” I say. Not much in the way of vampires as long as you don’t count the one I spent the entire night with.

 

            “Well, I can’t say that surprises me. I expected the Master would want to lay low, keep out of your sights. We’ll find him eventually. I’ve been doing research” Giles says.

 

            “And?” I ask curling up in a chair at the table where Giles is sitting.

 

            “Well so far I haven’t learned much except that the Master’s rising was prophesied” he says.

 

            “Oh yay” I say dryly.

 

            “Indeed but perhaps some more research will turn up something.  How is Angel handling things? I can only imagine the horror of the things he went though at the hands of the Master” Giles says.

 

            Oh goody, Angel talk, which will probably include questions I can’t answer.

 

            “Yeah, it was pretty bad and he’s still a whipped puppy but I think he’s getting better, coming around,” I say. I’m going for safe, noninvasive answers here.

 

            “Very good. I imagine his family was over joyed to see him,” Giles says.

 

            Yeah because they’ve been dead at least two hundred years, I think. “Uhm I don’t think he has family,” I say.

 

            “Oh, really? Well he was certainly of assistance the other night. He would be most welcome here anytime” Giles says.

 

            I suppose that’s the English way of inviting him into the little White Hats group. “Uhm, Giles if I tell you something will you promise not to freak?” I ask. I’m dying to get this off my chest. It’s not like I have friends to tell or like I could tell my own watcher.

 

            “I assure you that no matter what you tell me I will not ‘freak’,” Giles says stumbling a bit over my word.

 

            I take a deep breath and stand up pacing the floor. I twist my hands in front of me needing to do something.

 

            “Okay, well before I tell you, you gotta promise to wait and let me finish cuz it’s really twilight zone-y,” I say.

 

            Giles nods and takes his glasses off, waiting patiently for me to continue.

 

            “Okay, here’s the deal, Angel is a vampire but he’s got a soul. He was cursed by gypsies a hundred years ago because he killed some girl in their family. The Master caught him and put him in that cage. He wasn’t one of their followers.” I close my eyes and brace myself for the torrent of curses and the lecture that is sure to come.

 

            “He has his soul you say?” Giles says.

 

            “Uhm yeah, I can’t like verify it but he could have come in here and killed you anytime or even me. He hasn’t tried and he did help us,” I say still waiting for the shit to hit the fan.

 

            “Most interesting, I’ve never heard of a vampire having a soul. Did he say what clan of gypsies cursed him?”

 

            “No, okay why aren’t you having kittens, yelling at me for not staking him as soon as I knew, things like that?” I ask completely perplexed.

 

            Giles smiles in that way he has that says he’s being patient and understanding. “Buffy, contrary to what the Council would have us all believe, this world is not black and white. There are good demons and bad demons, just as there are good people and bad people. I’d like to talk to Angel a bit more, find out some things about him, for example how old-“

 

            “243. He’s only had his soul for about a century though” I say. Only a century I think to myself. God, you know I liked older guys before but this is really ridiculous.

 

            “Good Lord, there must be some information about him in the watcher files then,” Giles stands up and goes to rummage in his bookshelves. He leaves the room and returns with a thick stack of books which he deposits on the table. He begins excitedly leafing through the books and I decide he’s not going to do the yelling and brow beating thing and isn’t that a change.

 

*

 

            “Does he have a tattoo on his back?” Giles asks.

 

            I sit up on the couch and look at him. “Excuse me, now you think I’ve seen him naked?”

 

            Giles turns red and starts blustering. Definitely worth the effort of embarrassing him.

 

            “No, well-I thought perhaps he’d shown you or taken his shirt off for some reason that I right now can not fathom nor do I want to,” Giles says completely flustered.

 

            I grin and lay back down on the couch, watching the black and white television I managed to un-earth from all the books.

 

            “I can’t be certain without talking to him or knowing about the tattoo but I believe it is possible that Angel was once upon a time, Angelus, the one with the angelic face-“

 

            “Got that right in one,” I mutter from my place on the couch.

 

            “Also the Scourge of Europe, in his time he cut a swath of murder and destruction across the country. In 1900 he was sighted at the Boxer Rebellion where William the Bloody killed a slayer.  William the Bloody is a vampire that was reputed to run with Angelus. Sometime in 1919 he arrived here in America and there is no mention of him hunting or killing in this country. It says here that the Watcher’s council supposes Angelus dead,” Giles says.

 

            “Maybe the Watchers need to get better researchers,” I say.

 

            “We don’t know for certain that Angel is indeed Angelus. If he were…Angelus was the most feared vampire of his time. His reputation is still something to be discussed among other vampires,” Giles warns.

 

            “Wow, so we’ve got the vamp that other vamps wanna be right here in Sunnydale. I gotta say he’s better looking then the Master,” I say.

 

            “He is much younger, Buffy. The Master is one of the oldest vampires on record. Council files make a guess of his age at somewhere around a thousand years old,” Giles says.

 

            “I guess you would start to show you age after that long a time,” I say and turn my attention back to the TV, hoping that Giles will get the hint.

 

            I’ve got a lot to think about, not only is this guy a vampire. He’s one of the big bad. And I thought my taste in men was rotten before.

 

 

 

-Angel-

 

            I stand in front of Giles’ door, not quite prepared to knock. I take a deep breathe and furrow my brow. She’s not in there.  I start to turn and walk away, go somewhere else to look for her when the door opens. It’s Oz.

 

            “Oh, hey,” he says nodding at me.

 

            I clear my throat. “Uhm, is Buffy here?”

 

            “No, she went to make a quick run to the Espresso Pump but Giles wanted to talk to you. Come on in,” Oz says and steps aside.

 

            I swallow hard and step inside the proverbial lions den, at least that’s what this feels like. I lick my lips nervously and tuck my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket. Giles stands up from his place at the table.

 

            “Angel, good to see you again. How are you?” Giles asks.

 

            “I’m fine. Thank you. Yourself?” I say. I hate polite conversation. I wasn’t good at when I was human and I’m worse at it now.

 

            “I’m quite well. Thank you. Would you like some tea?” He asks.

 

            “No, thank you,” I say. I swallow hard again and try not to pace. It’s a natural reaction for me when I’m nervous. I wish Buffy would get back.

 

            Giles takes his glasses off and begins cleaning them. He furrows his brow. “Buffy told me that you are a vampire.”

 

            I gasp. I feel like all the wind has been knocked out of me. That was sort of something I wanted to keep from them for the next sixty years or so. I put a hand out and catch the edge of the table to steady myself.

 

            “She also told me you are in possession of your soul,” Giles says.

 

            Well that increases the chances I won’t be staked only slightly.

 

            “Yes, Sir, I don’t hurt humans. I haven’t since I got my soul. I go to the butcher.” I stumble and flail over my words, still in utter shock that she would tell them about me.

 

            “If you don’t mind, I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. I’ve never heard of a vampire in possession of their soul,” Giles asks.

 

            I watch him carefully. I try to sniff the air unobtrusively. I’m a bit surprised when I don’t sense any actual fear coming from him or Oz, who’s sitting behind a lap top, fingers tapping on keys like this is the most normal conversation in the world to overhear. They both seem to be fine with the idea of me being a vampire.

 

            “Uhm, no I don’t mind. As far as I know I’m the only vampire to ever have possession of my soul,” I say. I sit down a bit awkwardly at the table across from Giles.

 

 

            I’m listening to Giles and trying to answer his question when I feel that tingling tugging ‘I’m alive’ feeling. It’s weak at first, little more then a whisper, but it’s getting stronger by the moment and then she walks in and it’s a full fledged, heart pounding ‘I’m alive’ feeling. Instinctively my hand goes over my heart just to check and make sure it’s not beating.

           

            “Hey, here’s a mocha chino for you Oz, coffee black for you Giles and Angel I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t know you’d be here but you can share my mocha chino because really slayers shouldn’t have this much sugar and caffeine all at once” she says.

 

            I can’t help but smile at her. Any anger I felt over her telling Giles my secret is gone.

 

            “Hey! You smiled! I didn’t know that could happen,” she points out.

 

            “Very funny,” I say with a smirk. “Giles and I have been talking about my soul and the gypsies.”

 

            Her mouth forms a very round O and she fiddles with her coffee. I can’t keep her in suspense any longer.

 

            “It’s alright. I’ve been answering questions. He wants to do some research on the gypsy curse,” I say.

 

            “This is after we do the research to find out where the Master is hiding, right?” Buffy says.

 

            “Of course, we don’t want to allow him to gain power again,” Giles says.

 

            “Right so please tell me we’re doing something other then research tonight because this sitting around is driving me insaneo girl,” Buffy says.

 

            Giles chuckles. “Why don’t you and Angel go do some patrols, see what you dig up. Oz and I will stay here and research,” he says.

 

            Buffy turns to me. “Do you mind? Or did you want to stay and do the scholarly thing ‘cause I’m capable of patrolling by myself, happens all the time in Cleveland.”

 

            “No, it’s fine. Let’s go patrol and you can drink your sugary thing,” I say.

 

*

 

            It’s funny I notice the difference in Buffy after the mocha chino. She’s noticeably lighter, happier. She even smells happier. We’re walking alongside each other. My hands are in my pockets and my fingers brush against the box there. It emits a low grade tingle, even encased the way it is.  I glance around. We’re in Restfield Cemetery which is one of the prettier ones. It’s got this great big statue of this angel with its wings spread.  We stop in front of the angel statue. I take a deep breath. Now is as good a time as any.

 

            “Buffy, I-I’ve had this for a long time. I saw it in a store one night, before you got here.  I wanted you to have it.” I stumble over my words. I really should be better at this. Granted I did spend the last two years locked in a cage but I had 241 before that to figure these sorts of things out. She just takes away all my defenses. I fumble in my pocket and sheepishly hand her the box. I glance down at my feet, not wanting to meet her eyes as she opens my gift.

 

            “Oh,” she whispers and takes the large silver cross out of the box.

 

            I swallow hard when I smell the tears that come to her eyes and I chance a glance up at her. Her green eyes are misty with tears unshed. She fumbles with the catch on the necklace. I take it from her very carefully holding the chain as far away from the cross as I can get, ignoring the survival instincts in me that scream at me to run. She turns her back to me and pulls her braid over her shoulder, giving a clear view of her neck.  I put the necklace on, letting the cross lie flat against her breast bone and carefully clasp the chain.

 

            “There” I manage to choke out.

 

            She turns and touches her fingers to the heavy silver cross. “Thank you” she says.

 

            “I know you had your other one, but I-I bought that for you and I didn’t have any use for it,” I fumble.

 

            She smiles and it transforms her face. It makes her green eyes sparkle and softens the hard exterior. “Thank you,” she says again.

 

            I nod and whisper “You’re welcome.”

 

            We turn to walk back toward Giles’ by silent agreement.  I watch her out of the corner of my eye and I can’t help but notice her fingers keep straying to the cross, my cross, that’s around her neck.  It makes me glad I gave it to her instead of hiding it back inside the drawer, something I did at least three times before I finally tucked it into my pocket this evening. I scoot slightly closer to her and try to sniff the air around her, get some sense of what she’s feeling.

 

            “Okay, the sniffing thing, really weird. If you want to know how I’m feeling, ask don’t smell me” she says.

 

            I swallow hard and step away from her, tucking my hands into my pockets. I bow my head and study the cracks in the sidewalk.

 

            “And stop the hang dog puppy look, I’m just saying if you wanna know what I’m feeling, thinking or how I’m doing ask,” Buffy says.

 

            I swallow hard and hazard a glance up at her. “Would you tell me?”

 

            She shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe but at least I won’t be mad at you for sniffing me.”

 

            Not mad is something.

 

*

 

            She’s fallen fast asleep on the couch, grown tired of research hours ago. She looks softer, younger, much more like the girl on the steps when she sleeps. She snores very softly and somehow it makes her all the more endearing.

 

            “Hmm, interesting,” Giles says pulling me out of my thoughts.

 

            “What’s that?” I ask.

 

            “Here it makes reference to the Master and a prophecy of some sort. It’s rather vague but it mentions that the prophecy is explained in The Codex. I’m curious if some of the other prophecy books mention it. All copies of the Codex were lost some time ago,” Giles says.

 

            “Not lost, misplaced. I can get it,” I say.

 

            “That would be most helpful,” Giles says.

 

            I nod. “It shouldn’t take too long. I need to go to Willy’s and send a message.” I cast a glance at Buffy still sleeping soundly on the couch and I ache to wake her up, tell her good night, tell her I hope she has sweet dreams.

 

            “I’ll tell her to expect you ‘round in the evening tomorrow,” Giles says with a smile.

 

            I swallow hard and nod. I didn’t always show such raw emotion on my face, not until she came around, or maybe Giles is just good at reading people.

 

            Willy’s is a left over from before the demons started running Sunnydale, or at least running Sunnydale in the open. From the little I’ve read about Sunnydale, it’s always been run by demons with human faces.

           

            Willy’s is generally populated by the less dangerous demons, the ones who are trying to stay under the Master’s radar. They don’t work for him but they don’t want to work against him either. I shove my way through the door and my senses are assaulted by the smell of cheap alcohol, blood, demons and the myriad scents of drinks partaken only by demons.  I drop the breathing habit I’ve picked up sometime in the last two hundred years.

 

            I sit down at the bar and rest my forearms on it. Eventually Willy will notice me. It takes him all of three minutes before he approaches me cautiously.

 

            “Hey, my man Angel, last I heard you were playing pet to the Master,” Willy says by way of greeting.

 

            “I got out,” I say.

 

            “Lemme get you a nice glass of O pos on the house,” Willy says.

 

            At one time, before I became the Master’s involuntary lap dog I used to pound on Willy for information, sometimes literally.

 

            “No thanks. I need to get a message to someone,” I say.

 

            “I’m your man then. I’ll make sure it gets there,” Willy says.

 

            “Gimme a piece of paper and a pen, you make sure this is delivered safe and I’ll make sure that when everything goes down the right side knows you’re on their team,” I say.

 

            “Sure thing, Angel,” Willy says. His voice always tends to be too loud, too high pitched and nervous around me. But then Willy by nature always seems to have secrets. I have no illusions. I know he’s working for every demon in town who can give him a leg up. Willy looks out for Willy and no one else, which is why the pounding works so well.

 

            I scribble directions for the demon I’m sending the message too then I scribble his name on the outside of the note. I add two fifties to the paper give it back to Willy. I should go myself but the trip to New Orleans and back would take too long. I’m going to have to trust an old acquaintance.  Willy tucks one fifty in his pocket. He slides the paper and the other fifty across the bar to another demon, a Grindslag.

 

            Grindslag demons aren’t good for much. They’re lazy, they don’t speak generally speak many languages, in fact their own and very rudimentary English generally covers it, but they’re teleporters. Many of them make their living by being messengers.  Getting to New Orleans and back with a book shouldn’t be a problem for this guy.

 

            He grumbles something in his language. I can’t really make it out but can tell by the tone of voice it’s a complaint. He tucks the message and money in the pocket of his black trench coat and pulls the fedora lower over his pointed ears.  He mutters some words under his breath and is gone with a pop that leaves my ears feeling clogged for a moment.

 

            “That’s Ricardo. I’ve used him before. He’ll take good care of you might take a little while though, you know if he has problems finding your friend,” Willy says.

 

            “I’ll wait until closing,” I say.

 

            “Sure thing, Angel. You sure I can’t get you something to drink. I’ve got O pos AB negative, A pos…” Willy says.

 

            I swallow hard. The little Willow did feed me during my captivity was human and I miss the way it tastes, the way it feels. Animal blood, no matter what kind of animal, just doesn’t come close to human blood. There’s a certain vitality to it that animals don’t have. It’s the difference a soul makes.

           

            “Anything non-human?” I ask.

 

            “Yeah, I got pig and goat but why you want animal blood? Most vamps won’t touch it. I keep it for some of my other customers,” Willy says.

 

            I shrug. I’m not really up to explaining my eating habits or my reasons for them to Willy. “Just get me some goat,” I say.

 

 The real reason behind not wanting human blood? Because if I’m on human blood, it’s that much harder not to want Buffy’s blood, or Giles’ blood or Oz or any of the other humans I’m mixing with. If I’m drinking human blood they start to smell like food.  It’s never good when the girl you’re in love with smells like food.

 

            Half an hour until dawn and Ricardo hasn’t come back. I tell Willy I’ll be checking back in with him at nightfall. He nods and assures me once again Ricardo is trustworthy. Trust is something I have a hard time doing. When you’ve been around as long as I have you learn that most people, demons, aren’t really trustworthy, they’ll sell you out the moment it starts to benefit them. It’s human nature, demon nature. It’s what makes the world so corruptible.

 

            I reach my apartment just as the sky is starting to turn pink. I linger outside the door, watching the glow spread across the sky. I duck inside just as the rays of the sun start to sizzle. Lethargy starts to set in while I’m undressing. I slip under the blankets on the bed, determined to sleep here tonight instead of on the rug. I’m not surprised when sleep slips over me tainted by hazel green eyes.

 

Chapter Four
 
-Buffy-
 
          I’m walking in one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries with Angel beside me. There’s this tension that crackles through the air. It’s kind of always there when he’s around. I’ve come to accept it, Angel plus Buffy equals sparkage, unresolved sparkage.
 
          “Listen, if we date you and I both know one thing is gonna lead to another” Angel says.
 
          “One thing has already led to another. Don’t you think it’s a little late to be reading me the warning label?” I say.
 
          “I’m just tryin to protect you. This could get outta control” he says.
 
          “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?” My voice sounds a little desperate and I hate myself for sounding that way. I hate that he can make me sound that way.
 
          Angel grabs me by the shoulders and jerks me closer. I draw a startled breath, a little surprised. He’s always so gentle, careful and hesitant when he touches me. He’s none of those things right now. His finger tips dig into my shoulders and I want to tell him more, harder, please.
 
          “This isn’t some fairytale. When I kiss you, you don’t wake up from some deep sleep and live happily ever after” he growls at me.
 
          “No, when you kiss me I wanna die.” I say. I stare up into his eyes for a moment longer and then I jerk free and take off running before the tears overtake me.
 
          My tears stream back into my hair as I run. If I stop running I know I’m going to collapse. I’m going to dissolve into tears and there’s a girl missing I can’t afford to dissolve into tears, not over Angel, not now. It’s not fair. I’m the slayer. I’m dealing with all the things I want in life that I can’t have because of that, like normality, a long life span. There’s only one thing I want with this burning intensity and that’s Angel. It’s not fair that I can’t have him.
 
          My tears wake me up. I must have been crying for a while because my pillow is soaked and I’m all stopped up and snifflely. I get up and walk into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face and look at myself in the mirror. I swallow hard. It’s odd some part of me knows what Angel kisses like and it is like dying but in a wonderful, steal-your-breath, heart stopping way. I know what kissing Angel is like and it’s like dying and then being reborn all over again but that’s impossible. I’ve never kissed Angel, except in my dreams.  And dreams are usually highly exaggerated, aren’t they?
 
          I jog down the stairs. Giles is sitting at the table with a pot of tea doing research. I’m fairly sure he’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing the day before, only more rumpled. He was awake when I drug my carcass from the couch in the living room to my room upstairs.
 
          “Morning Giles” I say.
 
          He looks up at me with a slight smile and a nod. “Good morning, Buffy or rather afternoon.”
 
          I’m glad he’s not going to make a deal of me getting his name right. I’m not good with those things. It all comes out cynical and sarcastic even if I don’t intend to be that way.
 
          I slump down in a chair next to him and make my own cup of tea. Giles glances up at me and his eyes crinkle in that way that looks like he’s smiling with them.
 
          “So we find anything new and interesting?” I ask.
 
          Giles sighs and pushes his glasses up on his nose. “I’m afraid not but hopefully Angel will have the Codex soon. I believe it will tell us more about the Master, give us a clue as to wear he’s hiding” he says.
 
          “Codex? Are we gonna need a ring for that?” I ask.
 
          Giles chuckles. “No it’s the most complete book of prophecy ever written. There is nothing in there that has not come to pass. I thought all copies of it had been lost but Angel says he can get one. There’s a passage here” he points to a paragraph in one of the open books on the table, “that refers to a prophecy regarding the Master and the Slayer in the Codex.”
 
          “And you think this is going to tell me where he is?” I ask doubtfully.
 
          Giles sits back and removes his glasses. He polishes them with his handkerchief. “I’m not certain but if there is a prophecy about you and the Master then it is best if we know about it, particularly if it is included in the Codex. If it’s going to happen it’s best to be prepared” Giles says.
 
          I shrug. “Whatever” I say. I glance up at Giles from my tea cup.  I’m dying to tell someone about my dreams. They’ve just gotten too weird. I like Giles but really not comfortable with telling him about dreams that involve kissing Angel. The only other person I know well enough to discuss things like this is Angel and that’s not going to happen, ever.
 
          There’s a knock on the door and Oz walks in. He’s got rolls of paper tucked under his arm.
 
          “Hey” Oz says raising his chin slightly toward Giles and me. His hair is green today and he’s wearing a brownish bowling shirt. He seems to have a whole collection of them.
 
          “So I went to city hall and copied off some city plans, the cemeteries to be exact. I spent most of the night looking at them and I found something weird about one of them” Oz says. He pushes aside some books and rolls out a blue print of Sunny Rest cemetery.
 
          Giles stands up and leans over the blue print next to Oz. Oz points to a place on the blue print.
 
          “Ok this is a blue print from 1810. There’s a church here,” Oz says. He grabs another blue print and rolls it out over the first.
 
          “This is the same cemetery in 1975, the last blue print made. Instead of a church here, there’s the Van der Hoff crypt. It’s the biggest one in Sunny Rest.  Sunnydale is riddled with catacombs. There’s surveyor’s marks here, next to the crypt. My uncle has done some surveying so I asked him to take a look at it. This mark indicates the possibility of a submerged structure,” Oz says. He looks up at Giles and at me as if we’re supposed to draw a conclusion from that. I stare back at him blankly.
 
          “Yes, there was a very large earthquake in 1812, many of the structures in Sunnydale at the time were swallowed whole by the earth. It was theorized that the Master was trapped in that church during the earthquake. No one ever proved it because until the Master rose Sunnydale residents were so busy pretending vampires and demons didn’t exist. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner,” Giles says and shakes his head, admonishing himself.
 
          “So, we’re thinking the Master is holed up in some church underground?” I say.
 
          Oz shrugs. “Might feel homey to him.”
 
          “Good, I’ll go, I’ll stake, we’ll celebrate,” I say.
 
          “Buffy wait. Let’s give Angel a chance to come through with the Codex. There’s still a prophecy out there about you and the Master. I’d like for you to be prepared,” Giles says.
 
          “You said the Codex was ancient, maybe it’s not a prophecy about me and the Master, maybe it’s a prophecy about the Master and some other slayer, one before me,” I say.
 
          “That’s possible but I don’t believe so. I believe if it had already come to pass there would be an account of it in the watcher files. They kept excellent records of prophecy come to pass and prophecy adverted,” Giles says.
 
          I sigh. I’m tired of waiting. I’ve never been good at it. I’m an action girl and right now there’s a lot of non action going on. I stand up and shove my chair back.
 
          “I’m going to go do something, grab coffee, scope out the cemeteries, something,” I say with a frustrated growl.
 
          “Alright, but Buffy, I’m serious I don’t want you going to the Master’s lair until we know more about this prophecy,” Giles says.
 
          “I won’t go down there. I just wanna scope it out, see what’s around, that kind of thing,” I say.
 
 
-Angel-
 
          As soon as night falls I grab a jacket out of the closet and jog most of the way to Willy’s. The moment I walk in the door, the greasy bartender catches my eye. He jerks his head at me and I sit on the end of the bar. He doesn’t keep me waiting long. He passes me the book wrapped in a greasy white towel.
 
          “When I found out what it was you were having delivered here I thought it might be best for both of us if no one knows what it is” Willy says.
 
          I nod. “Thanks Willy,” I say.
 
          “No problem, anything for you,” Willy says.
 
          I tuck the book, still wrapped in the towel, under my arm and make the trek to Giles’ house. I knock on the door and it’s answered immediately.
 
          “Angel, you got the Codex?” Giles says.
 
          I nod and pass the book over to him.
 
          “Oz, could you go over the blue prints with Angel. He might have some suggestions about entrances and such. I’m going to see if I can find this prophecy,” Giles says.
 
          I know what church Oz is talking about. I’ve even been there. I was foolish not to have thought of it sooner. The Master hasn’t used that place since he rose. He abhors that place. It would be like me going back into the cage. Personally, I wouldn’t do it to save my own life, but I wouldn’t think twice about doing it to save Buffy’s.
 
          “It’s not big enough to house more then a few vamps,” I say talking about the size of the church underground.
 
          Oz nods. “But he didn’t have very many left after we got finished so unless he’s been out hunting…” he trails off.
 
          “He hasn’t. Buffy and I have been doing vigilant patrols. If there were vampires out there turning people, we’d have seen some sign of it,” I say.
 
          “So he’s got what a dozen vampires tops there?” Oz says.
 
          “That’s my guess maybe fifteen. That’s still more then Buffy can take on by herself, particularly when one of them is the Master. He’s powerful and his vampires will do anything for him,” I say.
 
          “Including die for him?” Oz questions.
 
          “Without a thought,” I respond.
 
        “Ho korias phanaytie toutay... tay nuktee. 'The Master and the Slayer shall...' Yes, yes, this is it! 'The Master shall be victorious and the
Slayer...' My God!” Giles says.
 
     I swallow hard.
 
    “Hey, Angel, you okay? ‘Cause man if it’s possible you just got paler,” Oz says.
 
    I shake my head and rush over to where Giles is reading the Codex. I snatch it from his hands and read it myself. I sway slightly and catch myself on the table.
 
    “No,” I whisper under my breath.
 
    Giles takes the Codex from my hands and reads over it again. “It’s very clear. It’s going to happen,” he says.
 
     I move closer to him and read the passage again over his shoulder.
 
    “It can’t be. You gotta be wrong” I say even though I know he’s right even though I can read it written there in a language I’ve spoken and read for decades.
 
    “I’ve checked it against the other volume I have mentioning this prophecy. I don’t take something like this lightly. It’s very real,” Giles says.
 
    “Well then there’s got to be a way around it,” I say, determination, denial creeping into my voice.
 
    Giles takes his glasses off and lays the Codex on the table. He scrapes his fingers through his hair sending it standing on end. “Listen. Some prophecies are-are a bit dodgey. They’re- they’re mutable. I’ve been reading Buffy’s file. Buffy herself has thwarted prophecies time and time again, but this is the Codex. There is nothing in it that does not come to pass,” Giles says.
 
    I slam my fist down on the table hard enough to hear it crack. “Then. You’re. Reading. It. Wrong,” I say. My voice is tight with controlled rage.
 
    “I wish to God I were! But the text is very plain. Tomorrow night Buffy will face the Master and she will die,” Giles says. His voice is bewildered and a little lost.
 
    “I hid the book in a crypt in New Orleans a century ago. Anyone could have come along and stolen it, replaced it with a fake. We’ll have the text verified,” I say, still determined to find a way around this. It’s not possible. I just found her, my destiny. This can not be what I was sent here to do. I can not watch her die. I am not going to lose her again.
 
    There’s a harsh chuckle behind me and my heart drops. I turn in slow motion to see Buffy standing in the door. We were so focused on the Codex we didn’t notice her opening it.
 
   “I always knew it would happen eventually. I mean I really figured it would happen a lot sooner. Does it say how it’s going to happen? Do you think it will hurt?” she asks. Her green eyes have gone dark and they glitter with unshed tears. She’s pale and it makes the scar on her lips stand out.
 
    I try to move toward her, to envelope her in my arms and make it all go away. I can’t. My feet are frozen to the ground by the look of cold acceptance in her eyes.
 
    She shrugs. “Whatever, one slayer dies, another one is called. Do you think they’ll send her to Cleveland, to Richard or here to you? I hope they send her to you,” she says and swallows hard.
 
    Finally I can move. I reach out to touch her arm, to pull her close, to comfort her in any way I possibly can.
 
    “Don’t. Touch. Me,” she hisses.
 
    I glance down at the ground, properly chastened.
 
    “Were you going to tell me? Or were you going to let me walk in his lair not knowing? ‘Cause it would have been okay if you hadn’t told me. Richard wouldn’t have told me,” she says.
 
   “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to, that I’d find a way around it,” Giles says uselessly.
 
    Buffy nods and bites down on her bottom lip. She wraps her arms around herself and takes a deep breath. “Whatever,” she says.
 
    “I know this is hard-“ I start.
 
   “You don’t know anything. You’re immortal. You’re never gonna die,” she shouts, her voice breaking with barely controlled pain.
 
           
    “Buffy, I’ve been waiting for you for two hundred and forty three years, my destiny. Do you think I want anything to happen to you? Do you think I could stand it? We’ve just got to figure it out,” I say finally confessing, baring my soul and not giving a damn if everyone in this room knows I’m in love with her.
 
   “I’ve figured it out, Angel. You’ve got a destiny. So do I and this it. I go, I fight the Master and I die. Hopefully I take him with me,” she says. She turns to go and then stops and looks back at me. She grabs my cross from around her neck and jerks hard. She tosses it at me.
 
   “In loving memory,” she bites and rushes out the door.
 
-Buffy-
 
 
    Well that’s it. This is way better then that stupid fortune teller I went to in eighth grade, the one that said I was going to get married to a tall, dark mysterious man and have three kids. This is prophecy, prophecy in a book where everything in it has happened.
 
   Really, I guess it’s good. That I know ahead of time I mean. I’ll have time to write my dad a letter and tell Richard what an asshat he is. I’ll have time to thank Giles for being so nice to me and tell Angel about all the things that might have been between us. I can even write Mom a letter and tell her I understand why she sent me with Dad. I don’t really, understand, you know. It’s just what you say when you know your going to die. I mean I’ll be in Slayer Heaven, or where ever all these dead little slayers go, and Mom will be left here and I’d like to think she’d feel guilty about it. Like maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I’d gone with her but I know it would have. It’s in the Codex. I think I’ll put that in my letter to her.
 
    I feel that tingle tugging feeling deep inside of me and I know it’s him. The only time I get this feeling is when he’s around. It’s different from my vampire sense. That sense says run, fight, scream. This one says entirely different things like stay, love, kiss, fuck, you get the point.
 
   He sits down on the crypt next to me. He doesn’t say a word maybe because there aren’t words to say. I mean Hallmark doesn’t make a card that says “I’m sorry you’re gonna die”, might be nice if they did. It’d save Angel the trouble of trying to find something to say.
 
   He reaches over and brushes his finger against my cheek. I lean into his touch involuntarily. It’s almost as if I can’t control it. My body, my heart betrays me when he’s around. I swallow back my tears. My throat is raw and swollen from keeping the tears in.
 
    “It’s okay to cry if you want to,” he says.
 
    “Big girls don’t cry,” I say.
 
   “Buffy,” he whispers. His voice trembles and I ache with the way he says my name.
 
    “Don’t, Angel, just don’t,” I say. I don’t want to hear platitudes about my death.
 
     The air seems to have texture and weight tonight and all of it hurts. It’s bitter and cracked and hard and painful. I swallow hard and chance a glance at Angel. I look up at his beautiful face. He looks like he’s one of the marble statues out here with the moonlight making his pale skin glow.
 
    “Can you just be holding me now?” I whisper.
 
    His arms are around me in the space of a breath. He squeezes me tight and I nestle up against his chest. I take deep breaths of him. He smells clean, like a forest after a rain. He smells safe and strong and I wonder if I stay here for the rest of my life will the prophecy go away.
 
    “You know I’ve been having these dreams and in them you love me,” I whisper. Knowing you’re going to die gives you courage to say things you’d otherwise never say.
 
    “They aren’t just dreams,” he whispers back.
 
    He buries his nose in the crown of my head and I tuck my head into the crook of his neck. Somehow I know this how we’re supposed to be. This is right and perfect and home.
 
    I pull back slightly and look up at him. He looks down at me and the weight of his gaze pulls me in. He places his fingers under my chin, easing my mouth up to his. His mouth covers mine. He nips at my lips, teasing them open. I tilt my head and deepen the kiss. I pull away, gasping for breath.
 
   “It is like dying,” I whisper.
 
    “What?” Angel asks.
 
    I shake my head. “It was nothing,” I whisper.
 
    He pulls me back into his embrace and we sit there in the silence. He kisses me again. I run my hands over the cool, marble perfection of him. I drink him in through my hands, my skin, my eyes and my mouth. If this is the last and only night I ever have with him I want to remember even in Slayer Heaven what he smells like, he tastes like and how he feels.
 
   The sky is just beginning to turn pink at the edges and he pulls away from me regretfully.
 
   “You have to go,” I whisper.
 
  He nods. “If I could stop the sunrise for you, Buffy, I would.”
 
   That’d be nice. It would solve all my problems. Tears rush to my eyes again and I shake my head. “Everybody has to face their destiny,” I say in a husky whisper.
 
    “I’ll be at Giles when it gets dark,” he says.
 
    I nod and watch him race the sunlight home.           

 

   

Chapter Five

 

-Angel-

 

            The rain pattering against the windows wakes me up. I know it’s still mid afternoon just by feel. It’s a survival instinct you develop over the years. I slip out of bed and scrub my hands over my face and hair. I shower, get dressed and drink a mug of blood. I throw on a black leather duster and duck outside. The rain pours down, soaking me in seconds. Even the heavens are crying on her last day.

 

            The rain is so heavy that only the barest hint of light filters through the clouds. I stand outside Giles’ apartment, looking up at the window I know is hers. It’s open and I wonder if she’s asleep. It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to socialize. I’m here to help Giles’ find a way to stop this.

 

            I knock on the door and I’m not surprised when Oz answers it. He nods in his typical, quiet way.  He seems more morose today maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s what we all know is going to happen in a few hours. I don’t know. I don’t know Oz well enough to know how he feels about Buffy.

 

            Giles is bent over a table strewn with books and documents. His glasses are pushed up on his forehead.  He’s wearing the same rumpled clothes he was wearing the night before. He barely looks up when I walk in the room.

 

            “Have you found anything new?” I ask.

 

            Giles shakes his head and sighs heavily. It’s his only answer. I sit down and grab a book. If I could talk my way out of this I’d say more but I can’t. Talking won’t help Buffy. Reading might.

 

            “How is she?” I ask.

 

            “Upstairs,” Oz answers.

 

            I glance up the stairs and squint as if I could see through the walls, gauge how she’s doing, how she’s feeling. I scent the air. She’s not in the room to see me. She won’t know that I’ve been using smell to gauge her feelings. I pinch the bridge of my nose. She’s been crying. The smell of salt permeates the air. Pain, disappointment and fear also have a smell and it reeks. It hangs heavy in the air just under the smell of her tears.

 

            I can’t not go to her. It’s like asking a human not to breathe. I’m up the stairs and standing before her closed door before I even realize it.  I raise my hand to knock on the door and she opens it. She looks up at me and what I see in her eyes will haunt me forever. The pain is unfathomable but I understand that. It’s the acceptance that chills me to the point. She’s hurting, she’s scared but she knows this is the only way.

 

            “I felt you” she says before I ask the question.

 

            I nod because it makes perfect sense to me. I feel her too, inside and it has nothing to do with her being a slayer. She steps away from the door and walks over to the small desk in the room. I walk in, shutting the door behind me. She’s writes something on some stationary and then flips the paper over.

 

            I sit down on the bed, the only other place in the room to sit.

 

            “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” She asks.

 

            “It’s cloudy enough with the rain that I can move around outside in the daylight. Naturally I’m very lethargic but the older I get the better it gets and if I want to move around bad enough, I can,” I say.

 

            She nods and sits down on the bed a very measured space away from me.

 

            “So what are you doing here?” She asks.

 

            “I didn’t want you to be alone,” I say.

 

            “On my last day, “she voices my unfinished thought.

 

            “Buffy, I’ve been thinking about this. I’m going with you. I won’t let you fight the Master alone,” I say.

 

            “In the end, I’m always alone, Angel. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. One girl in all the world. She alone has the power to fight the vampires. That’s how it works. Maybe that’s why it works. If I’m not alone I don’t have any power,” Buffy says.

 

            I shake my head. “No,” I say.

 

            She sighs and pushes my shoulder hard enough to topple me back on the bed. She curls up next to me and wraps my arms around her. Her head rests on my shoulder and she closes her eyes. I know by her heart rate and breathing that she’s not sleeping. She’s probably avoiding talking about this. I bow my head and nestle my nose in the crown of her hair.

 

            “What were you working on?” I ask after a few moments of silence.

 

            “Letters to my Mom and Dad,” she says.

 

            I bite my tongue and force back the tears that find their way to my eyes. She’s really doing this. She’s saying goodbye. I clench my jaw. I’m not saying goodbye to her. We’re going to do this together. The prophecy says the slayer will die. The prophecy doesn’t account for a slayer and a vampire working together. Simply by working together we change the prophecy.

 

            “Close your eyes,” she says.

 

            I swallow hard and the dream I had rushes to mind. I shut my eyes just as trustingly as I did in my dream.  She turns in my arms and lays her body along the length of mine. I feel her breath against my skin. Her lips brush mine and electric current races through my body. She rests her forehead against mine. I can feel her breath washing over me as she breaths in and out. Her tears drip onto my cheeks and I start to open my eyes to look at her.

 

            “No, keep them closed. If you look at me I can’t cry and I’ve been holding it in so long it hurt,s” she says.

 

            So I keep my eyes closed and hold her as she cries.

 

*

 

           

            It’s almost dawn. I can smell it long before it ever comes. Lights are beginning to come on in the houses all over town. Little kids who can’t wait one more moment to see what Santa brought them. Very vaguely in the back of my mind I remember that. I remember shaking Kathy awake and sneaking into the parlor, hands linked. I was old enough to know there was no such person as Santa Claus, but Kathy wasn’t. She was so excited.

 

            Buffy’s voice jerks me out of the past. I shake my head and focus on what she’s saying. She’s almost in tears and I know why. I understand, but she doesn’t.

 

            “It told me to kill you. You were in the dream. You know. It told me to lose my soul in you and become a monster again” I say.

 

            “I know what it told you. What does it matter?” She asks bewildered and desperate.

 

            “Because I wanted to! Because I want you so badly! I want to take comfort in you, and I know it will cost me my soul and part of me doesn’t care!” I am yelling at her by now.

 

            I bite off a sob and Buffy looks at me in stunned silence.

 

            “Look, I’m weak. I’ve never been anything else. It’s not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy. It’s the man” I say.

 

            “You’re weak. Everybody is. Everybody fails. Maybe this evil did bring you back, but if it did it’s because it needs you. And that means you can hurt it” she says.

 

            I shake my head and look out into the city again. I want so badly to believe her but I can’t. She’s only read about the things I’ve done. She thinks it’s romantic that I want to lose my soul in her. There’ll be nothing romantic about it when I’m ripping out the throats of her friends.

 

            “Angel, you have the power to do real good, to make amends. But if you die now, then all you ever were was a monster” Buffy says. Her voice has taken on that pleading quality. She’s beginning to really desperate.

 

            She glances at the lightening sky. I don’t have to wait much longer. The pain will be excruciating but it won’t last long.

 

            “Angel, please the sun is coming up” she pleads.

 

            “Just go” I say.

 

            “I won’t” she protests.

 

            “What? Do you think this is simple? You think there’s an easy answer? You can never understand what I’ve done! Now go!” I yell at her.

 

            “You are not staying here. I won’t let you.” She grabs my arm.

 

            “I said LEAVE” I shout and jerk my arm away from her. She punches me and God help me but I shove her back. She falls face forward to the ground, hard.

 

            “Oh my God…” I whisper. My sins against Buffy just keep piling up.  I go to her and crouch down beside her. I grab her by the shoulders and turn her to face me.

 

            I grab her roughly by the arms. “Am I a thing worth saving, huh? Am I a righteous man? The world wants me gone!” I shake her to punctuate my words. She’s sobbing by now.

 

            “And what about me? I love you so much…and I tried to make you go away…I killed you and it didn’t help” she sobs. She shoves me off of her and gets up.

 

            “And I hate it! I hate that it’s so hard…and that you can hurt me so much. I know everything you did, because you did it to me. Oh God! I wish that I wished you dead. I don’t…I can’t” she says, the last words just a whisper.

           

            I get to my feet and look at her, pleading with my eyes, with my voice.

 

            “Buffy, please. Just this once…let me be strong” I say.

 

            “Strong is fighting! It’s hard and it’s painful and it’s every day. It’s what we have to do! And we can do it together!” she says.

 

            I swallow hard. She’s right. I know she’s right but I don’t know if I have the strength. I don’t know if there’s enough strength in the whole world for me to keep fighting this, to keep fighting her and what I feel and what I want.

 

            “But if you’re too much of a coward for that, then burn. If I can’t convince you that you belong in this world, then I don’t know what can. But do not expect me to watch and do not expect me to mourn for you, because…” she stops.

 

            It takes me a moment to realize why she’s stopped. I look up at the sky. The cold flakes hit my face, lightly at first and then heavier. It’s snowing. It’s snowing in Southern California and it’s completely blocked out the rising sun.

 

            I wake up with a gasp, my hand on my heart.  I touch my fingers to my face almost expecting to feel snow flakes there. Instead I feel the wetness of tears shed during my sleep.  I sit up and go to the window. It’s just dark and the rain is still a light drizzle. I scrub my hands over my face, thoughts picking over my dream.

 

            It’s one of those dreams, a dream that is so vivid if I didn’t know better I would swear it had happened. I don’t understand all of it. I don’t understand the parts about my soul or why I wanted to face the rising sun. How could anything be wrong if Buffy loves me? I don’t understand why it snowed. I wouldn’t guarantee it because I haven’t exactly followed the weather for the last 243 years, but I’d almost bet that it has never snowed in Southern California, certainly not enough to drift and block out the sun like it did in my dream. Crazy some of the things that come out in your dreams I guess.

 

            I walk into the hallway and it takes me a moment to realize that feeling of being alive is absent. I furrow my brow and walk down the stairs. Giles is at the table nursing a scotch and holding an icepack to his jaw.

 

            “Giles, what happened?” I ask

 

            “She hit me” he says.

 

            “What?” I stare at him. I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of a play and I don’t know my lines.

 

            “Buffy hit me. She knocked me out. She’s gone” he says.

 

            No, no, no. God, no. I swallow hard and pull a sword from the wall.  I twist it, let the light glint off of it. Giles keeps his weapons sharp.

 

            “I’m going after her. I could use your help” I say.

 

            Giles shakes his head. “Don’t you see, man. There’s nothing we can do! It’s in the Codex. Even Buffy realizes this is it! I’ve looked for two days. There is no way around this” he says.

 

            I shake my head. “I don’t accept that. The prophecy is about the slayer fighting the Master, if you and I help her that changes the prophecy!” I shout.

 

            Giles looks at me in disbelief. The scotch clears from his mind and gapes at me. “You love her” he states.

 

            I look away. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve her. I’m not worthy, if I live a thousand years and save the world a thousand times, I will never be worthy of her.

 

            “I’m not going to sit here and do nothing while she dies. If you’re coming, we go now” I say.

 

            Giles hesitates a moment longer and then snatches up a bag full of weapons from the hall closet.

 

 

 

-Buffy-

 

 

            I feel bad for punching Giles but he was going to wake up Angel. I couldn’t take Angel with me. I’m going to die. I know that and I’m okay with it. I’m not leaping for joy. I mean there were things I wanted to do before I die. Silly things like go to Europe, fall in love, have a dog, spend an entire summer at the beach. But really, I’m okay with the dying.  What I’m not okay with is Angel being here with me. Once I die, they’ll take him back and put him in that cage. I won’t do that to him. I won’t let him do that to himself.

 

            The entrance to the catacombs is absurdly easy to find. Earthquakes or maybe just neglect have revealed the secret door. It’s leaning off one hinge crazily to the side. It squeals as I open it. Damn, I was really hoping for a sneak attack. It kind of would have increased my chances for taking the Master with me if he didn’t know I was coming already.  But then he probably reads the Codex. I bet he knows the outcome of this battle too, must make it easier for him.

 

            I walk silently through maybe four hundred yards of catacombs before I ever see any sentries. There are two in a tunnel entrance, vampires. They appear bored, as if they don’t expect any trouble. Most people don’t really think you’ll come to a battle you can’t win. I’m a Slayer my job is to come to battles I can’t win.

 

            I slip two stakes out of my waistband and slip up behind the sentries. I shove stakes in both their hearts before they have a chance to make a sound. Their dust settles around me as I creep through the entrance. I glance up and down the tunnel. It’s clear. I choose the right hand side and come to another intersection. I peek around the corner and Bingo, two more guards right in front of another tunnel entrance. Candlelight from the room beyond makes the entrance glow. I step back into my own tunnel and press my back flat against the wall.

 

            “Fuck” I curse under my breath. I’ve got a crossbow but there’s no way to dust them without the Master knowing they’ve been dusted. I shrug. There’s a point where he’s going to find out I’m here anyway. 

 

            I check the pockets of my cargo pants. They’re stocked with stakes and holy water. I take the crossbow off my back and load it with fresh bolt. I slip a few more bolts into the strap on my left wrist. I close my eyes and pray to the Slayer God that I get to go to Slayer Heaven and then step out silently, simultaneously I let loose the first bolt. It flies straight and true, slicing into the heart of guard 1. He dusts without a whimper but it gets guard 2’s attention.  He rushes toward me and I have just enough time to drop and roll, dodging the sword he pulls from a sheath on his waist. Vamps with weapons, isn’t this fun?

 

            There’s about an inch of stagnant water on the concrete floor of the tunnel, an inch of water I just rolled in. And here I was thinking I’d die all pretty, maybe in one of those flowing white dresses the damsels in movies always die in. The crossbow slips out of my wet hand and I fumble for it. The vamp catches me off guard, kicking me in the ribs hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I close my eyes and fight against the urge to simply give up. I mean if this is it, what’s the reason to keep fighting. The image of Angel’s permanently scarred chest flashes before my eyes and I kick up, splashing dirty water on the vampire’s legs.

 

            I drive my fist into the vamp’s gut and he bends at the waist. I slam an elbow into his temple and he staggers but his hand snakes out and wraps around my wrist. He twists my arm painfully and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.  My back is facing him. I stomp on his foot as hard as I can. That causes him to loosen his hold just enough for me to wrench my wrist out of his grasp. I punch him hard in the face and he falls back slumped against the wall. I shove a stake through his heart.

 

            I take a deep breath and roll my shoulder. My left arm feels like it’s been put on one of those torture racks and stretched. I’m pretty sure some of the muscles are torn. It hangs pretty much uselessly at my side. That’s okay I only need one arm to stake a vampire. I roll the shoulder experimentally again and wince. I grab the cross bow from the water and stalk through the candlelit entrance.

 

            Its way creepy in here. It’s a natural cavern with the stag things hanging down and pointing up. I can never remember their names.  Pieces of the sunken church stick up at odd angles and then disappear back into the rock. There are pools of water scattered over the large cave. I turn in a circle, looking for any sign of the Master or any vamp. There are a hundred places he could hide here, in alcoves and shadows. The candles melt onto the rock. Their flames cast flickering light over the ceiling, the walls and the floors.

 

            I catch a flash of movement to left and I turn quickly, wrenching my shoulder again. I hiss with the pain and then catch my breath. There’s a vampire sitting on a rock. She’s dressed in a blood red velvet gown and I mean gown in the ball gown sense. Her hair is black and it’s all coiffed and pulled up around her face. She’s a vampire but she’s beautiful.

 

            “And you meet my paramour, Elizabeth” a voice echoes through the cavern and I know it’s his. I whirl looking for the source.

 

            Turning my back on a vampire is a mistake I haven’t made in years. Elizabeth moves fast considering she’s wearing about fifty yards of velvet and a corset. She hits me in the mouth with enough force to toss me across the cavern. My head smacks the wall I’m thrown against and pretty stars dance all around. The world tilts and I force back nausea. I shove myself up to my feet just in time to dodge a left hook. I catch her hand and twist. She grabs me with her other arm and folds me into her.

 

            “Uh uh, Elizabeth, you know the rules. The prophecy says I kill her” the voice says and I catch a glimpse of the Master as he slips from one hiding place into another.

 

            “I just want a taste. I won’t take it all” Elizabeth pouts.

 

            I struggle in her hold. She’s got me tight and breathing is going to become an issue if she tightens the hold any more.

 

            “Alright, but just a taste” the Master says. He peeks from his hiding spot to watch.

 

            I close my eyes, feeling and smelling Elizabeth’s cool breath on my skin. She smells like wet earth and old blood. I wonder why Angel doesn’t reek like this. I bow my head in defeat and resist the urge to smile as I feel her paper dry skin brush against my lips. I bite down on her hand as hard as I can. I taste blood and I keep biting. Elizabeth is shrieking at the top of her lungs.  She finally relinquishes her hold on me and shoves me away, ripping her hand out of my mouth. I spit out blood and other things I don’t want to contemplate. She backs away from me screaming like a banshee and waving her bloody hand in the air. I slip a stake from my pocket and throw it with enough force to drive it straight through her heart.

 

            “Looks like you’re going to have to do the job yourself. Girlfriend couldn’t get done” I taunt. Impending death makes you brave or really, really stupid. Take your pick.

 

            He’s faster then any vampire I’ve ever faced. He’s behind me and I never even saw him leave his hiding spot. He’s just there, no real movement involved.

 

            “I always planned on doing the job myself. After all, it is prophesied” he says. He glides a finger over my face and I try to walk away, I try to run, I try to scream. I can’t do any of it.  The only response I have is a single tear. It’s the only movement my body can make.

 

            “You’re prettier then the last slayer I killed” he says.

 

            I swallow hard, welcoming the death he’s going to give me. At least it will be over. I’ll be finished. He wraps his hand around my throat delicately, like a lover and lowers his mouth to my neck. The pain isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I mean it’s just this prick and then nothing, complete blackness.

 

 

-Angel-

 

 

            I go through the entrance to the catacombs first. Giles is right behind me. I’ve got a broadsword and he’s got enough weapons for a small armory.  We’re probably almost 400 yards into the catacombs when nausea overwhelms me. I lean against the wall of the tunnel, gasping. If Buffy makes me feel alive, then the only way to explain this feeling is dead. That scares me more then I know how to express.

 

            “Angel?” Giles asks and lays a hand on my shoulder.

 

            I shake my head and take harsh breaths. Cold sweat drips from my forehead. I push myself off the wall of the tunnel and swipe the back of my hand across my forehead.

 

            “We’ve got to hurry. Something has happened” I gasp and stumble down the tunnel, so much for vampire stealth and grace. I erupt into the main cavern and I don’t see her at first when I do I feel like my lungs have been ripped out of my chest. She’s lying face down in a pool of water. I pull her out and cradle her against my chest. I know before I put my fingers to the pulse in her neck that she doesn’t have one. I look up at Giles crouched beside me.

 

            “She’s dead.” I know it’s my voice. I feel my throat and mouth forming the words but it sounds foreign.

 

            Giles shakes his head. “No, there are things, an ambulance-“

 

            “They’d never get down here in time” I say finally accepting what Buffy accepted the first time she heard it.

 

            “CPR, she drowned, we can try CPR” Giles says. He grabs her body from my embrace and lays her on the ground.

 

            I don’t point out the bite on her neck or that she could be drained of blood, her body just happened to fall into the pool. I’m hoping against hope that he’s right.

 

            “You’ll have to do it. I have no breath” I say.

 

            In that moment I have never felt so helpless in my entire existence. I watch and Giles bends over Buffy’s body and performs CPR, helpless to assist him in anyway. I swallow hard and catch sight of the cross around her neck, my cross. No, not helpless. There is one thing I can do. I can pray.

 

            I snatch the cross from around her neck and fold my hand around the cross. My skin starts to sizzle and smoke the moment the cross touches my hand. It makes a nice accompaniment to the prayer I whisper over and over.

 

            It seems like forever but her eyes go wide and she coughs, water comes pouring out of her lungs. I drop the cross and gather her to my chest. I struggle out of my duster and wrap her in it.

 

            “Let’s get her back to my apartment and get her warm” Giles says.

 

            I nod and stand up with her in my arms. She shivers, her skin breaking out in goose flesh. I place a kiss on her forehead.

 

            “Shhh, don’t worry we’re going to make it alright” I whisper. I don’t know how but she’s alive. I can make anything right as long as she’s alive.

 

Epilogue

 

-Angel-

 

            She’s sitting on the couch just staring into nothing. Giles made her a cup of tea the way she likes it, lots of cream, lots of sugar and it’s sitting on the table beside her growing cold.

 

            She’s wrapped in a blanket and wearing a pair of very faded navy sweats with the Oxford emblem on them. When we first brought her home she sat in the shower with the steam rolling out from under the bathroom door and sobbed. I sat outside the bathroom door and cried silently. Her skin is still red from the hot water.

 

            She hasn’t said a word since we brought her here. I perch on the edge of the couch and reach out to touch her. She turns to look at me and my fingers just brush her jaw, a jaw that’s faintly black and blue from the fight tonight.

 

            “Buffy, what can I do?” I ask, desperate to make this better.

 

            She swallows hard and looks away. For a moment I don’t think she’s going to answer me and then she turns her face toward me and pierces me with her eyes.

 

            “I want to be a bird. I want to fly away. Will you be a bird with me?” she asks.

 

            “I’ll be anything you want me to be” I whisper.

 

*

 

            We spend the next four hours discussing it. She’s firm about it. She doesn’t want to give it time and Giles agrees. If she’s going to do it, it has to be now.

 

            “Angel, are you sure you want to do this?” He asks me.

 

            I look at Buffy and then him. “She’s the reason I’m anything at all. I can be everything to her if that’s what she wants” I say.

 

            Giles nods and then looks at Buffy. She holds his gaze for a moment and then nods. It is a firm, decisive nod.

 

            “Very well then” he says.

 

            She stands up, dropping the blanket at her feet and goes upstairs. She comes down in a few moments with a bag.  I packed mine earlier. She didn’t bring much with her and I have had a couple of centuries to grow accustomed to moving without taking anything, oh the treasures I have left, original Picassos, Renoirs, priceless artifacts. It doesn’t matter this time. This time I’m taking the most precious artifact in the world with me. I take her bag from her and pick up her hand. I kiss the knuckles and hold her gaze. She smiles so slightly at me.

 

            We’re flying away, just like she wants to.

 

Four Hours Later:

 

            “Yes, this is Rupert Giles. My position is in Sunnydale, California. I have news to report to Quentin Travers. It is most urgent”

 

            “Quentin, this is Rupert Giles. Richard Smythe’s slayer, Buffy Summers-I’m afraid I have bad news.  She fought the Master and he killed her. We’re going to need the new slayer here as soon as possible.”