Lost 3
My mind screams to me that this is a trick. These aren’t Angel’s soft, chocolate eyes drinking in my appearance. This isn’t his large, cool hand cupping my cheek; his fingers don’t catch my tears. The arms that envelop me in their strong, tight embrace or the broad sculpted chest I rest my head upon, those don’t belong to my love. Neither does the achingly familiar voice that I hear whispering my name endlessly. Angel is dead. This can’t be him holding me up as my legs buckle and my heart threatens to stop, because I want to die right now. Trapped in this one moment, this exquisite illusion of perfect bliss, this true homecoming. Please God, strike me down now before reality crashes in and I am alone again.
I dare not even move, even breathe, even part a single lash of my tightly closed eyes, in case it disrupts the fantasy. I wonder briefly if I am dying, if in actuality some monster is currently mauling me to death and my already shattered conscious has invented this hallucination in order to protect me from the horror of what is really happening. Involuntarily I tighten my grip on Angel’s waist, digging my fingernails into his soft leather duster, pulling him as tightly to me as possible, waiting. Just waiting for the instant when it will all be over, when he will be snatched away from me once more.
The seconds stretch past and eventually I can hold my breath no longer. My body screams for oxygen and I inhale deeply and quickly. Still nothing happens, still I am cradled in Angel’s embrace. Tentatively I open my eyes and look upwards. My gaze meets liquid brown pools, brimming with concern and love, and questions.
“Buffy?”
Time seems to slow down, to stop almost, as my confused brain struggles to come to the conclusion my heart has already made. It is him. He is really here, holding me tenderly in his arms. That is really his rich, melodic, bass voice speaking my name. This is truly his cheek I brush my fingers lightly across. The body I lean against and the scent I inhale, they are each Angel and I’m awake and this is actually happening.
My most fervent wish and my most
precious dream all come true at once. If he wasn’t propping me up already I
would fall straight to the ground right now, in a dead faint. But instead he
steadies me on my feet, pulling slightly away from me, yet not relinquishing
his tight hold on my shoulders. And all I can do is stare disbelievingly at
him. At the lips that used to kiss me so sweetly, at the hair I used to run my
fingers though, at the arms that used to keep me safe in their reassuring
embrace, at the mouth that saved all its smiles just for me, at the hands that
once worshipped my body, at the broad chest that used to form a pillow for my
head. At the taut stomach through which I once thrust my sword.
I jerk quickly away from him, staggering slightly as I do so. “I killed you.” I choke out in a voice barely above a whisper, tears cascading down my cheeks.
He physically flinches at my words, recoiling as if I had hit him. His expression turns to that of utter despair and he drops to his knees, covering his face with his hands to hide his own tears.
“I’m sorry, Buffy.” He sobs. “I’m so, so, sorry. Everything I did… How can you ever forgive me?”
I stare incredulously at him. He’s sorry? What does he have to be sorry for, I’m the one who did it all, I’m the one to blame. I made him lose his soul, I murdered him and sent him to Hell. I’m the one at fault here, not him. My dear, sweet, kind, adorable Angel, who would take on all the guilt in the world – how can I make him believe that there’s nothing to forgive?
I kneel beside him, ignoring the sharp pain from the rough tarmac digging into my kneecaps as I do so. “No, no, no, Angel.” I force out between my own weeping. “Not your fault. Shush, sorry, I love you.”
And then I am saying it as a mantra. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you… The words eventually running into each other and losing their separate meanings. Soon it is just a sound, a mindless chant that conveys all the separate feelings that are pouring out of my heart right at this moment. Three little words that speak of grief, lust, guilt, devotion, remorse, passion, eternity… And he is saying it too, our foreheads leant against one another, our shared tears mingling on each other’s cheeks.
I clutch at him desperately, my hands grabbing at his clothing, pulling him ever closer towards me but never close enough. I missed him so much for so long. And now he’s actually here, with me, holding me, and he loves me and I want him, I need him. I sense his desperation too, as he crushes me to him, squeezing me tightly enough to break my ribs if I were a normal girl. But I’m not, I’m the Slayer and he’s a vampire and the contrast is perfect. We are two halves of the same whole. Darkness and light. Night and day. Hot and cold. And the same eternal truth runs through our veins, the same purpose unites us. We both hear the call of the hunt, the lure of the kill, the sweet song of victory. We belong in each other’s arms, under the light of the moon, like this.
Somehow, suddenly, my lips find his and we are kissing. Frantic, urgent kisses, interspersed with more babble about how sorry we are, or how much we missed each other. I don’t know what I’m saying or what I’m hearing, I just know this feeling. His hands in my hair, his mouth on my throat, my breasts crushed up against him. I just know how good it is when our tongues finally meet and all our words are swallowed. They are necessary no longer. It is just us, and the night, and the silence, and the hard concrete beneath us as we fall to the ground together, entangled in one another. A writhing mesh of limbs, clothes and hair, impossible to tell where I begin and he ends.
God, it has been forever since the last time I was touched. My flesh has been deprived of contact for so long, that every caress feels like electricity on my skin. And for it to be his touch, that of the man who is my whole life, my world, my only love. This just makes the experience all the more overwhelming, more perfect, the tastes sweeter and the sensations headier. I can’t form a single coherent thought, all I am aware of is this. Angel’s reassuring weight on top of me as assaults my mouth with his kisses and his hands wander everywhere. They are under my shirt, cupping my breasts, then they are sliding up and down my thigh, then they are softly brushing my hair out of my eyes.
I fumble ineptly with my own hands, wanting more than anything to feel his smooth skin under my fingertips. I push up the sweater he is wearing and travel underneath that and his heavy coat, tracing lightly the hard definition of his muscles. My fingernails scrape down his back and he moans softly, biting down on my lip in response. He does not draw blood, but the slight pain is enough to send pleasurable shivers down my spine and to set off a throbbing in the base of my gut, which matches exactly the hammering of my heart.
Time seems to stretch and bend, lasting both an eternity and an instant, as clothes are shed and hands and mouths explore. We roll over, so that now I am on top, gently tickling his bare skin with my long hair whilst biting and nipping my way down his chest. I tease his nibbles with my tongue, and his nimble fingers march lightly across the whole of my body, drawing their own intricate patterns. Then in a flash, before I’m even aware of what’s happening, my back hits the ground once more and Angel’s lips are on my neck. His mouth drags down my collarbone, his tongue sweeping in circles around my breasts then tracing a long line down my abdomen, dipping briefly into my navel, before disappearing between my legs.
I gasp as he touches me there, in the one place on my body belonging solely to him. All my inhibitions lost by now (because after all, I am already utterly naked making love in the middle of a public place, albeit a deserted one), I grip hold of his hair tightly, holding his head in place as he torments me in his own excruciatingly exquisite way. He laps at me expertly, one moment flicking teasingly at my clitoris with his tongue, the next pushing insistently inside me with long strokes. I feel waves of pleasure begin to build and I bite my lip to keep from screaming his name, instead throwing my head back and arching my spine as my arousal peaks to its highest point. Stars dance before my eyes, then I come crashing back to earth and my chest heaves with each ragged breath I suck desperately into it.
And yet still I am not satiated, still our reunion is not complete. I am not close enough to him, not yet persuaded fully of the reality of his presence. I pull his mouth up to mine and kiss him deeply, tasting myself on his lips. Then I wrap my legs around his hips, aligning our bodies so that they are parallel to one another. He drops his hands to my butt cheeks, holding me in position as he eases himself inside me, filling me completely. We begin to move together, skin sliding smoothly over skin, flesh against flesh. Bodies swaying in the most primal of dances. Our thrusts become more desperate, wilder, more passionate, as we both begin to climb towards our peaks once more. Tears flow down both our faces as we climax simultaneously, Angel then collapsing on top of me, his face buried in my neck.
We roll over, as one, surrounded by a shell of post-coital bliss and I snuggle into his chest, suddenly very sleepy. As I let my thoughts drift, however, a niggling sense of dread begins to wash over me. The realisation of what I have just done with Angel starts to set in and I remember too its possible consequences.
“Oh my God.” I moan, as I jerk away from Angel, sitting bolt upright and grabbing my discarded shirt to cover my nudity.
“Buffy?” He asks in a voice tinged with concern, guilt and confusion. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head furiously, my eyes watching him intently as I fumble with my shirt. “No,” I cry. “Your curse – Angelus. What have we done?”
His expression turns to one of relief and he smiles slightly, reaching out to me, but I shrink away.
“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
I shuffle further away from him, suddenly afraid that this is one of those dreams returned. That in a second his eyes with turn hard and blank, his smile will twist into a smirk and Angelus’ fangs will rip into my throat. I am at a loss to explain how this is a nightmare, but it has to be – all the other explanations are impossible. I sent Angel to Hell, so how is it that he is here now, his eyes still gentle and ever so slightly hurt, the hand he held out to touch me being pulled hesitantly back.
I shake my head again, withdrawing back inside myself. “This isn’t real.” I whisper. “You’re not here, none of this is happening.” I cradle my head in my hands and begin to rock slightly, emitting soft sobbing noises. I feel Angel’s arms wrap around me and I let him hold me, still not entirely convinced it is actually him.
“Shush, Buffy.” I hear him whisper. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m really with you and everything’s going to be alright.”
“But, what? How?” I choke out. I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand how my dead lover can be wiping away my tears or softly comforting me. And I don’t get how my hometown, with its white picket fences and its neatly mown lawns, has now been reduced to a pile of smouldering rubble. It’s all just too much for me to take in at once.
“Why don’t we go inside and I’ll explain it all to you?” Angel suggests.
I can only nod dumbly in response to this. He hands me the rest of my clothes and we each dress in silence. Angel waits patiently for me to finish lacing up my boots and refastening the cross I had been forced to hastily remove earlier then he beckons in the direction he came from and we set off together. Our hands gently brush as we walk and almost without thinking I catch my fingers in his. He responds by tightly gripping my palm to his and we exchange an awkward half smile. Despite our somewhat emotional and enthusiastic reunion and the non-appearance of Angelus (which I am still left wondering about) I am not yet sure what the future holds for Angel and me. Have we been through too much already to ever have any chance of a reconciliation, or does this latest development mean we can finally be together without worries or judgements? I just don’t know, but hopefully I will be finding out soon.
* * * * *
A short way into our journey I remember Bruce. I couldn’t leave him alone in the car all night – it was far too dangerous. And now that Angel was here to lead us to a safe place (assuming there were any left in this town) then I couldn’t just forget about the guy who’d helped me out when I needed it.
“Wait.” I say, stopping dead and maintaining my hold on Angel’s hand, so that he was forced to halt also.
“What’s the matter?” He asked.
“I, uh, there’s someone I have to go back and fetch.” I ramble slightly, the art of conversation still eluding me.
“You brought someone?” Angel loses a small bit of his trademark unflappability and his face darkens noticeably. I almost want to laugh at the situation. He’s jealous, he’s actually jealous! We’ve been apart for nearly a year and a half, a good proportion of that time he spent as first being evil, then being in Hell, where I sent him. Then we meet up again, in a disaster zone, have utterly spontaneous and totally incredible (if I do say so myself) sex and the second he hears I might have another guy in my life he gets jealous. I smile in spite of myself and my surroundings – my first genuine smile in longer than I can remember – indulging the sudden urge I have to lean up and kiss him softly on the lips.
My Angel, actually here with me at last. It’s been so long and he hasn’t changed at all. I’ve missed him so much. And now that we’re together again my heart feels like it will burst from sheer joy, but my head is spinning with confusion and guilt and uncertainly, and I feel like I will fall apart under the strain of it all. I pull away from him again dropping his hand at the same time, my momentarily boldness lost and the shy, awkward atmosphere between us returning.
“Sorry.” I say sheepishly, but he waves the apology away. I try to remember what we were talking about. “Um, actually he brought me.” I explain. “I was kind of stuck for a ride, so…”
Angel nods understandingly and I lead him back in the direction of Bruce’s car, all the while mourning our loss of hand contact and yet not having the nerve to re-establish it. When we reach the car, Bruce is sitting cowered in the back seat, brandishing my stake directly in front of him. I knock on the window and he levels a completely petrified glare in my direction, before recognising me and relaxing slightly.
“What the Hell is going on in this town?” He says shakily as he climbs out of the car. “This person, this thing tried to attack me. It had this horrible deformed face and it kept rocking the car trying to get in. I waved this bit of wood at it, like you said, and it ran away…” He notices Angel for the first time, his panic and confusion increasing even more. “Who’s that?”
I glance back at Angel, who is busy doing his impression of a shadow, blending stealthily into the darkness, his posture and features utterly impassive. “He’s, uh, a friend.” I say, hyperaware of my phrasing, but not having the words, the time or the inclination to explain exactly who, or what Angel was or what he meant to me, especially when I was so unsure of all these things myself. “He’s going to take us somewhere, where it’s safe, right?” I finish lamely. The whole situation seems so unreal and not just in a dire, trapped in a nightmare of Hell/psychotic delusion, kind of a way either. It is like it has all been a bad joke, right from the minute I woke up in Angel’s bed alone. Everything that happened after that has to be untrue, it is all too crazy to possibly be otherwise. Most of all the destruction of Sunnydale and the piles of rubble that stand around us. They couldn’t actually be real, could they?
Angel’s voice interrupts my thoughts, cutting through the fantasies I was beginning to build up for myself. Waking up on the morning after my seventeenth birthday, no curse, just Angel’s arms wrapped around me. And we laugh away the silly dream that I had. I almost have to pinch my arm in order to convince myself that I’m really awake, it is actually one and a half years later and my reality is this.
“We’re headed to the school.” Angel says. “It’s one of the only buildings left standing that’s big enough to hold all the survivors. I thought you might want to see the others again.”
“The others?” I echo. What with all the turmoil of finding Angel again I had forgotten about the rest of my friends. I feel slightly guilty at how easily I pushed their possible deaths out of my mind, before the relief sinks in that if Angel wants me to go and see them, then they must still be alive.
“They’ve missed you.” Angel remarks softly and suddenly I am filled with a new urgency. I want to rush to all their sides, embrace them, tell Mom I love her, Willow that she’s the best friend I could ever have, Xander that I missed his jokes, and Giles that I need his support. All the reasons why I was running from them, why I felt I couldn’t face them, they have all melted away in this crisis. I thought they were all dead and gone and now that I find they aren’t, it’s like a second chance has been given to me and I don’t want to waste this one.
“Come on then, let’s go.” I say with an old impatience and enthusiasm I am just beginning to rediscover. There are so many facets to my personality that I had thought lost and forgotten, which are now re-emerging. Whether it’s due to the chain of events going on around me, or my reunion with Angel or simply a realisation I have arrived at within myself, I don’t know. But I do know I’m embracing the change, shrugging off the cloud of despair that had followed me around over the past twelve months. The wounds inflicted by time and circumstance are far from healed, but for now I’m at least sticking an elastoplast over them and getting on with things. And that’s a darn sight more than I’ve managed in a long time.
* * * * *
The closer we get to the high school the sicker I begin to feel with anxiety. What are my friends going to think of me after all this time? Will they ever forgive me? How will they have changed in the past year? Doubts and insecurities flood through my mind and I fidget nervously, pacing backwards and forwards as Angel identifies himself to a burly young man that guards the damaged door to the school with a crossbow. The man looks Bruce and me over cursorily then steps aside to let us in. I hesitate slightly before crossing the threshold into the familiar building.
I can still see the battered lockers in the distance and a slightly singed flyer advertising drama club lies discarded in a corner. The place is now dark, dingy and smoke-stained, but my imagination conjures up halls thronging with students, happy voices calling out, Willow and Xander waving me over. Then I remember the worse times as well, the night visits, Angelus throwing me up against the wall in this very spot and me helpless to do anything against the demon with my lover’s face, the assassin that tried to kill me at the careers fair and ended up shooting Oz, the hauntings, the vampires, the horrors I battled here. And I don’t want to go in, I don’t want to go back to that. It’s too hard for me to cope with now. I want to be safe in my apartment in New York, where the memories can’t get me and my death doesn’t seem quite so imminent.
I sense Angel behind me, his hands placed on my waist. “You can do this, Buffy.” He whispers in my ear. “Nothing here can hurt you anymore.”
I stand absolutely still for a moment, closing my eyes on the scene in front of my and thinking about Angel’s words. He still knows exactly what I’m thinking and exactly what to say to me, even though we have been apart for so long. I can almost lean back into his arms and forget the last eighteen months have ever happened. Almost but not quite. I open my eyes again and this time I just see empty corridors scattered with piles of rubbish. No lively teenagers milling about, no demons hiding in shadows, just this disaster ravaged building. I step inside and nothing changes, no atmosphere of dread assails me. It is all right for me to be here.
“Let’s take Bruce to the gym first,” Angel suggests. “That’s where they’re keeping all the civilians.”
I nod mutely, blanching slightly at his use of the term ‘civilians’. This is beginning to sound like a war is going on and I wonder again what on earth (or in Hell) has happened in Sunnydale to make all this procedure necessary.
We enter the gym and I am astonished by the sight of a room filled with people. They sit or stand all around, haunted expressions on their faces, each surrounded by their own small cache of meagre possessions. A soft hum of conversation reverberates through the room, most voices dulled by the shock of the occasion. It looks like a refugee camp, like those pictures you see on the news from foreign countries. You know, the ones you tut tut over and immediately forget about, never expecting to see something so eerily similar on your own doorstep.
I am stunned even further when I notice a familiar figure standing at the head of the room, doling out provisions to a long line of bedraggled people. Mom. Her usually immaculate make-up is missing, her hair is limp and straggly and her clothes torn, yet she smiles reassuringly as she evenly distributes portions of bread and fruit. I am struck utterly dumb by the sight. I always knew my mom was capable and efficient, but I thought that her practicality extended only to being a businesswoman or a homemaker, I had never once in my life imagined her in such a Mother Theresa like role. I am suddenly filled with a rush of pride that she should be doing this – not only coping with the crisis, but also helping to ease it for others. This is the kind of strength and fortitude I should have displayed as the Slayer, instead of running away from it all.
But I don’t have time to dwell on this thought as she looks up from her work briefly and her eyes catch mine. I see her face light up with amazement and pleasure and she rushes over.
“Buffy?” She cries. “Is it really you?”
“Hi, Mom.” I say nervously through the tears that are already beginning to form in my eyes.
She pulls me abruptly into her arms and I cling to her like a small child. We both weep for what seems like an eternity, as I murmur my apologies for running away like that, for not calling, for making her worry over all this time. And she comforts me like a mother should do to a daughter. Shushing my mutterings and offering apologies of her own. She says she didn’t mean it when she told me not to come back, that she loves me, she just didn’t understand then what it meant for me to be the Slayer. And I can’t exactly blame her for that, I still don’t understand what it means either, I just know that it’s something I can never change. Eventually, we break apart and she kisses me ferociously on the forehead, before admonishing me for disappearing like that.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
I manage to smile slightly, wiping my eyes as I do so. “I won’t Mom, I promise.”
Angel reappears from where he has been settling Bruce in with the rest of the masses and my Mom smiles gratefully at him. “You managed to find her Angel,” she says. “You always said you would.”
Angel runs one hand through his spiky hair, looking slightly embarrassed. “Well, it was more of a case of her finding me.” He replies, his eyes sliding down to glance at me. I blush slightly in response, remembering, as I know he is, our reunion. But I push thoughts of that to the back of my mind, as yet another issue to be dealt with later. For now there are more confusing things going on, like how is it that Angel and my mother are getting on so well, when she must know that he is a vampire and presumably also what happened on my seventeenth birthday. I almost ask the question out loud right then, but stop my self at the last minute, instead going for something a little more diplomatic than ‘Mom, why are you suddenly bestest buds with my demon lover?’.
“So, I’m still wondering what exactly is going on here.” I try, turning to Angel for answers.
He nods thoughtfully. “You should speak to the others.” He says. “They’re in the library. I have to go back out on patrol I’m afraid.”
We walk back out into the hall together and my face falls. “You’re not going to come with me to see them?” I ask, disappointed we are to be separated and nervous over facing my friends alone. My Mom was okay, she’s got to love and forgive me, it’s like her job as a parent, but the others, they might not be so understanding.
“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Angel tells me. “I have to go. You’ll be all right, really. They’ll be happy to see you.”
“OK.” I nod and Angel turns to go, hesitating slightly before he does so. Our eyes meet and I laugh awkwardly.
“Are we supposed to kiss now, or something?” I ask, half-joking, half-serious, because I have no idea what our relationship is meant to be now. The sex was about apologies and guilt and the pain of separation – it was born from past hurts, not future hopes. It felt utterly right in the moment and I wouldn’t take it back even if I could, but I just wish it hadn’t left me so confused as to what happens next.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Angel enquires and I feel like hitting him. I don’t know what I want! All I know is that that I love him, but what does that even mean? I’ve always loved him but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a vampire and I’m the Slayer, and it didn’t stop our relationship crashing and burning the first time around.
“You know, this cryptic-guy act of yours doesn’t get any less infuriating.” I tell him, deliberately avoiding answering the question outright.
Angel flashes me his little half smile. “We’ll talk later.” He says and leans down to catch my hand, pressing it briefly to his lips, before striding away back down the corridor.
* * * * *
I stand for a long time just looking at the library doors. The space beyond them holds so many memories for me, not just in terms of the events that occurred there, but also the people I will find when I enter it. I have a sudden urge to just to run off and escape it all again, to disappear back to LA, or New York, or anyplace but here, where everything is so complicated and so difficult. But I know I can’t. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in the past year, it’s that you can’t live your life just running away from something. You have to have something to run to as well; you have to have aims, goals, reasons for carrying on, or you may as well just be dead.
So, I take a deep breath and push open the slightly blackened doors, with the broken panes of glass in them, and enter the library. No one notices my entrance at first, and I can observe the group quietly. Giles, Xander, Willow, Oz and a few people of varying ages that I don’t recognise, are gathered around the table in the centre of the room. They are deep in conversation, all busy rifling through a stack of books or papers. I study closely each of my friend’s faces. Giles appears tired, the creases in his forehead deeper and the circles beneath his eyes darker. Xander’s expression is grim, a look I am unaccustomed to seeing in him. Willow wraps her arms protectively across her chest and bites her lip in consternation. Oz is impassive as usual, the only change I notice in him being that his hair is now dyed jet black.
A young brunette girl, about my age, glances up from the table and sees me. Her heavily made-up eyes flick over me lazily, sizing me up before she speaks. “Did you want something? Because otherwise we could kinda do without the interruption.”
I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. There is no need for explanations, however, as by this time the rest of the group have turned to look at me, and jaws are dropping to the floor all over the place.
“Buffy!” Xander and Willow exclaim simultaneously, their loud shout drowning out Giles’ astounded ‘Good gracious’ and Oz’s slightly surprised ‘Wow’.
I just smile shyly at them, not having the faintest idea what to say to any of them. Sorry just doesn’t seem to cut it, I owe them a lot more than just a simple apology. Even though these people used to be my closest friends, it feels like I’m standing here in front of a group of complete strangers, and in a way I am. People generally change a lot in a year and I doubt that my friends are any exception. They will have experienced events that affected their lives and their personalities profoundly, not least those of the last few days. And I am not exactly the person they thought they knew either. The Buffy they knew never would have bailed on her life, her family, her responsibilities. Their Buffy would have found the strength to fight on whatever the circumstances, whereas I just ran away. I’m pretty much a stranger to even myself, nowadays.
A awkward silence stretches between us all and nobody moves, they just keep on staring, until I feel I will wither and die underneath their scrutiny. I drop my gaze back down to the floor and try to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in my eyes from falling. Obviously from their reaction nothing is forgiven, they all hate me for what I did to them, for my abandonment and my failure. This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come back, I should have stayed in New York. I am just about to turn away to leave the room again, when a blur of red hair comes speeding towards me. Willow envelops me in a huge bear hug and starts weeping uncontrollably.
“Buffy,” she sobs. “We thought you were dead.”
I wrap my arms around Willow as she cries, watching Xander advance towards us over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” he says, slightly bitterly. “You couldn’t have just spared us a phone call, to say you were okay. Or maybe a postcard. Ya know, everybody likes to get mail.”
I just shake my head, saying “I’m sorry,” for what seems like the millionth time today.
Willow regains control of herself and pulls away from me, I notice she has cut her hair short, into a much more fashionable style. It makes her look older, every inch the self-assured eighteen-year-old she has become. “It’s alright.” She hiccups a little. “We know why you did what you had to do.”
“We don’t understand it.” Xander adds. “But we know.” Willow moves out of the way and he gives me a cursory hug. “Welcome back, Buff.” He says with a brief grin. “We missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I speak in a voice barely above a whisper. “More than you imagine.”
“It’s, ah, good to see you again, Buffy.” Giles touches me awkwardly on the arm, his weary eyes lighting up at the sight of me.
I look at him speechlessly, guilt welling up in my heart. Of all the people in my life it is Giles I have failed the most. I may have betrayed Angel or hurt and worried my friends and mother, but it was Giles I most comprehensively let down. He trusted my judgement as the Slayer and as his virtual daughter and I screwed up at every turn. Firstly I slept with Angel, unleashing Angelus on the world to kill Giles’ girlfriend and then torture him nearly to death. Then I abandon my Sacred Duty for nearly a year, allowing events on the Hellmouth to spiral utterly out of control and resulting in the deaths of over 100 others. Some chosen one I am.
“Giles…” I begin helplessly, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve made such a mess of things. I’m so, so sorry.”
His face softens and he takes me in a very uncharacteristic embrace. “Shush, Buffy,” he murmurs in my ear. “You don’t have to apologise for anything. You made a few mistakes, that’s all, and the consequences were more than anyone could have dealt with. I’m just glad to have you home.”
“Thank you.” I whisper back with a tearful smile.
“Okay, okay,” I hear an impatient voice, which I identify as being the brunette girl from before. “Now this reunion is very touching and all, but anyone want to tell me what the Hell it is I’m missing here?”
* * * * *
I sit down at the table and there begins a very long night of explanations and information sharing. I learn that the feisty brunette is actually the new Slayer, called to replace Kendra. Her name is Faith and I’m not sure if I like her yet or not. She is brash and over-confident and I don’t trust her as far as I could throw her (which isn’t saying much actually, considering I’m the Slayer and I’ve got a pretty good arm, but you get the point). However, she also looks like she’s a girl who knows how to have fun. And, speaking as someone who has all but forgotten what the word ‘fun’ even means, the ability to have it is very much a redeeming quality. Not that I’m at all jealous of her of course, it just stings a bit that my place as the Slayer in the centre of my group of friends should be taken so easily. But knowing she was present to help protect the town and guard over the Hellmouth does rather relieve some of my feelings of guilt over leaving, so it is pretty safe to say that my opinion of Faith is decidedly undecided.
I am also introduced for the first time to another man at the table, Faith’s Watcher, Wesley. But I didn’t pay much attention to him and neither did the rest of the group. His only function seems to be butting in the discussion every now and again with ridiculous suggestions that nobody listens to anyway. The only point his presence serves is to make me feel even guiltier over my desertion, as it had gotten Giles’ fired from the Council. I am finally beginning to realise exactly how selfish my actions had been and how many people they had unwittingly affected. It only increases my determination to do things right this time.
Obviously the first thing I want to know about is Angel. How is it possible that he’s back from Hell? What has happened with his curse? Why is he flavour of the month with my mother? Has he been involved with anyone else since I’ve been away? OK, let’s pretend I didn’t even think that last question…
But I hold my tongue for now and listen as they explain what has been going on in Sunnydale to cause the devastation I see around me now. Giles tells me that the mouth to Hell has come open. When I ask him wasn’t it open before, he informs me no, before Sunnydale had been like a window to Hell. Demons could sense the evil vibrations coming from Hell and surrounding the town, which was what attracted them here. In other words they came to look through the window and enjoy the sights. But someone or something had opened that window and created a portal straight into Hell whereby creatures could pass backwards and forwards, effectively unleashing all of Hell’s minions on to the town.
Giles pauses awkwardly here, asking me who I’ve encountered so far upon my return to Sunnydale. I smile slightly in understanding and tell him yes, I have seen Angel, and he breathes an audible sigh of relief that he need not bother broaching this difficult topic. He then continues to say that he believed Angel was the first entity to make use of this portal, but whether it was because of Angel the portal had been created or whether Angel had just benefited from somebody else’s handiwork, he couldn’t be sure.
“It is possible, that Angel was particularly eager to escape from Hell, due to his soul and his, ah, connection with you.” Giles addresses me and I am grateful he is taking the time to answer my possible questions, when there are clearly other, more pressing, matters to be discussed. “So, when the gateway began to open he was the first to take advantage of it.”
I nod in response to this, my emotions once again a tangled mess. Why is it that nothing in my life is ever simple? Why must I face so many cruel ironies? First I sleep with Angel, which was supposed to be a pure, precious experience, but instead it unleashed Angelus, destroying my lover and bringing heartache where there should have been romance. Perfect happiness leading only to pain and misery. Then at the very moment I am forced to kill Angelus, ridding the world of one of its greatest evils, my Angel is restored and I must murder the very person I love most in the world. Now against all odds my lover is returned to me and we finally have a hope of being together once more, but it comes at a price. The same force that has brought Angel back has also created all this mayhem, destruction and death. So, how can I just fall back into his arms, knowing the cost many others have paid in order to allow us to be together once more?
I try not to think about this for the moment, however, instead concentrating on the rest of the story Giles is telling. Apparently they at first noticed a gradual increase in demon activity with no obvious cause. Demons seemed to be influxing from nowhere and at rate that was stretching the Sunnydale team’s capabilities, even with the help of Faith, the new Slayer. It was only when Wesley, proving that he was actually slightly useful, had begun to notice the return of old foe, thought previously beaten and banished to Hell, that they had hit upon the possibility of a fully open Hellmouth. Wesley and Giles had done the required testing of supernatural vibrations and confirmed the theory. Not only was the Hellmouth open, but its gateway was getting progressively wider, allowing more and more monsters to be spewed from the depths of Hell. And they could find no way to close it once more. The size of the portal would grow until the whole of the earth cracked open and the entire world was sucked into Hell.
I stared at the grim faces around the table and felt awful for leaving them alone to cope with this burden. I should have been here to carry at least some of its weight and provide the extra muscle to fight off the proliferation of demons, whilst those volunteer helpers without superpowers spent their time researching how to stop this thing.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.” I say despairingly. I wish I’d known all this was happening then I would have come back sooner, pushed aside my pathetic self-pitying attitude and attended to my Sacred Duty. But what’s done is done, and I can’t go back and change it, no matter how much I may want to, or how bad I feel.
“It’s all right, Buffy.” Willow attempts to reassure me. “We had Faith to help us, and Angel.”
Xander grimaces. “Yeah, much as I hate to admit it, we couldn’t have done it without Deadboy.”
“So, you managed it then? You closed the Hellmouth.” I ask, somewhat surprised, then chiding myself for feeling that way. I couldn’t possibly be that egocentric that I thought apocalypse aversion could only be accomplished with my help, though I did feel rather left out. Saving the world used to be my gig.
I hear the account of the ritual from Giles, his tone turning even more sombre as he described the details of the event. Finally they had tracked down the ritual and performed it. But, it had been that which had caused the devastation to the town, rather than any evil force. It had unleashed a tremendous amount of energy, which had caused an earthquake and engulfed virtually the whole town in a fireball. The only place that remained unscathed was the very location where the ritual was performed – this library. And I realise the truth of his words as I look around me now. I hadn’t noticed it before, as I am so used to seeing the room like this, but whereas everywhere else in Sunnydale had been damaged beyond repair, this room was completely intact. Not a single book had fallen off the shelves, nor were there any papers misplaced beyond those discarded by the researchers. The room was literally the eye of the storm, the epicentre of the earthquake from where all the destructive waves had emanated.
I look at Giles and the others now and I see the guilt that weighs each of them down. All, with the possible exception of Faith, feel responsible for those people’s deaths and for the annihilation of the town. They consider it their fault that so many have died, so painfully, even though if they hadn’t acted the death toll would have been much higher.
“You couldn’t have known.” I say, now taking my turn to be the one doing the reassuring. “There was no other way.”
“Maybe if we’d looked longer, or tried harder to limit the damage…” Giles says feebly, suddenly appearing much older than his years. They all look older than when I last saw them and not just by twelve months either.
“No,” I interrupt forcefully. “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from the mistakes I’ve made it’s that ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ are useless. You can’t spend your whole life obsessing over one thing that you’ve done, no matter how dire the consequences. Because nothing you do, or say, or think can ever change the past. You did what you thought was right at the time. And now you can’t let that choice you made destroy you.”
There is silence after my outburst, as everybody looks at me in amazement.
“Good advice, Buffy.” Oz speaks for the first time. “You should learn to follow it.”
I think I flush bright red here and I know that I have to forcibly shut my mouth in order to stop gaping at Oz like a fish. Why is it that I can deal with other people’s emotions and problems, but when the spotlight is turned on my own, I lose it completely? Awkwardness stretches between us all, Wesley shuffles papers to cover the fraught atmosphere and I desperately try to think of something to say.
“So, what happens next?” I finally speak.
“Um, even with the closure of the Hellmouth.” Giles begins. “There are still many demons who have already passed over to earth and are now stuck in this dimension. What with the destruction of the town and all its facilities, then it is the perfect hunting ground for vampires and such like, and therefore very dangerous. We persuaded the authorities to isolate Sunnydale – after the first few demon attacks on them, it wasn’t exactly difficult. And now we’re researching ways to deal with the problem, such as magic spells or rituals, as well as trying to keep the remaining townspeople safe.” He pauses briefly. “Angel is out patrolling already, doing a sweep for any humans still alive out there and needing help. And we were just briefing Faith in preparation for sending her out for the night.”
“I want to go with her.” I say automatically, desperate to be of some use, as well as sensing the itching in my fingers again, which signalled the restless Slayer within me.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Faith’s Watcher interjects and I glare daggers at him.
“Well, I’m not sure if that’s any of your business, Wes.” I snap back at him, using the diminutive of his name, which I have noticed annoys him so much when Faith does it.
“Go, B.” The other Slayer chuckles from the other side of the table, clearly amused.
I take a moment to flash her a nasty look as well, suddenly sympathising with Wesley’s dislike of having his name abused.
Giles quickly intervenes before a full-blooded argument breaks out. “I tend to agree with Wesley.” He says, much to my chagrin. “You look exhausted, Buffy, and certainly in no fit state to patrol. Why don’t you take this opportunity to let Willow show you around the place, then get some sleep?”
I am about to protest, until I open my mouth to speak and an involuntary yawn escapes my lips. I hadn’t quite realised just how tired I am. I have been on the move for so long, just keeping going – work, slaying, travelling to Sunnydale, meeting up with Angel – that up to now I have been running on pure adrenaline. But stopping to sit in the library and just talk has begun to relax me, to wind my system down and suddenly I find my muscles ache and my eyelids are heavy, and the prospect of a good night’s sleep sounds wonderful. Plus staying behind will give me a chance to quiz Willow further about some of the details I have missed during Giles’ little speech. So, I acquiesce and the meeting breaks up, each member of the impromptu council heading off to complete his or her own allotted tasks.
* * * * *
Willow gives me a brief tour of the set-up they have created in the school and I am quite impressed by what they have accomplished in such a short time. People are crowded into all the larger rooms at the school, the gym, the cafeteria, the main study hall, each equipped with their own marshals to manage the crowds and take down the names of the survivors. Useful items so far salvaged from the wreckage of the town, such as tinned food, extra clothing, blankets, books; these are all stored in empty classrooms, waiting to be used when needed. Stock inventories have been made of this stuff as well, in order to allow it to be rationed out and to try and prevent pilfering. Willow adds very tactfully here that the new Watcher Wesley is excellent at sorting out all the paperwork in these matters, which I take to mean he’s pretty useless at anything else.
Finally she leads me to the other end of the school, where one of the classrooms has been made into a private bedroom for the more important players in this clean up operation, i.e. the gang from the library. The room has been lined with soft mats from the gym and Willow hands me a blanket, apologising for how basic the arrangement is. I laugh and tell her I’ve slept in worse places over the past year and she gets a strange, worried look on her face. For a second I think she is going to say something then the moment is gone and she turns to leave.
“Will, wait.” I call after her.
She twists back around to look at me.
I want to be able to make things right with her, to wipe away the past twelve months and the pain of me not being there for her. I was Willow’s best friend and I left, without telling her, without trusting her to help me deal with my problems, surely that’s got to be a big enough betrayal in itself, even not counting the issues with me being needed as the Slayer. So, things are naturally still quite awkward between us and I want desperately to change that, to get my friend back. But I know how difficult that process is going to be and how some hurts just can’t be cured with a few well meant words, and there’s something else that I need to know more importantly at the moment. Another issue that presses on my mind right now.
“Um, about Angel.” I say and the light of hope goes out of her eyes to be replaced by the civil blankness she has been directing at me, ever since my return and her outburst. I hate myself for doing this, for placing Willow at the bottom of my list of priorities when I have no right to, but I can’t help myself. It’s Angel, he still consumes my every thought and I can’t help it. I don’t get a choice in loving him and as per usual I have to push everything else in my life aside in pursuit of that love.
“What do you want to know?” Willow asks and I smile gratefully at her. The depth of her patience and generosity never fail to amaze me.
“Everything.” I tell her, my voice cracking slightly. “What happened when he got back from Hell, what he was like, whether he asked about me, the things he’s told you about what happened, his curse…”
Willow nods and sits down, cross-legged on a nearby mat, to begin the story. She starts on the day they gave up looking for me in LA and tries her best to remember all the details, knowing that I would want to hear them.
* * * * *
The
car ride home was awkward and silent. They had spent the whole weekend
traipsing between every bar and café in LA, showing Buffy’s picture around,
hoping that she hadn’t gone far, that she was still hiding in LA somewhere. But
they all knew the search was fruitless, Buffy had made it clear she didn’t want
to be found, so she wasn’t going to make things easy for them by staying
nearby. She was probably long gone by now. And the girl she’d worked with at
the restaurant, Julia, she’d passed a message on to them. Just ‘sorry’ and that
Buffy was leaving and didn’t want to see them.
Willow
forced back the tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes, ever
since Joyce’s outburst. When they had suggested giving up the hunt for Buffy,
at least in LA, the older woman had freaked out, yelling and shouting that it
was all their faults. That Mr Giles had corrupted her daughter with all this
vampire nonsense and that’s why she ran away. Joyce eventually ended her tirade
and collapsed in a hysterical heap and Willow felt just awful. Maybe they had
been bad friends, they’d thought that Buffy was getting over the whole Angel
ordeal that she would be OK, but obviously they’d been totally wrong. Buffy was
far from OK and she didn’t even feel she could come to them to talk about it.
Maybe it was their fault that Buffy had run away, they had expected her to take
on too much, to lose the man she loved and deal with saving the world, all
without batting an eyelid. Willow certainly couldn’t have managed it, so why
expect Buffy could?
She
felt doubly guilty as well, due to her slightly blasé attitude over Buffy’s
initial disappearance. She had been pretty sure that her soul restoration spell
had worked and although worried about her friend, she had just assumed that she
and Angel had left for some time together and were too afraid to tell anyone,
because of the censure they would have received. But now Willow thought about
it she realised just how foolish that assumption had been. Sure Buffy was
inclined to do irrational things where Angel was concerned, but she never would
have just disappeared with him without telling anyone. And she also realised
that the rift in Buffy and Angel’s relationship, caused by his period as
Angelus, couldn’t have been that easily mended.
But
it had been much easier on Willow to believe that Buffy was happy somewhere,
rather than suffering, or even dead. She filled her head with romantic visions
of Buffy and Angel’s reunion and even dared to feel proud of herself for making
it possible. And as the weeks passed by and school restarted and Buffy still
hadn’t called, Willow just made up new excuses. They were too busy and too
wrapped up in one another to notice how much time had gone by, they were on
their way back now. Buffy would be home tomorrow or the next day, you’ll see.
But the tomorrows kept on coming and still nothing was heard from her best
friend. The more unreasonable her conviction became, the more Willow clung to
it, even when Oz and Xander spent long hours trying to convince her otherwise.
That Buffy just wasn’t coming back, maybe because she couldn’t, maybe because
she didn’t want to.
Then
Oz had seen Buffy in LA. He had talked to her and been shocked by what she said.
When he had broken the news to Willow he had done it gently, sympathetically.
Buffy wasn’t herself, he’d said. She was unhappy, upset, distant and she
certainly wasn’t with Angel. Willow refused to believe it at first, she had
spent so many months deluding herself, that those delusions were hard to let go
of. Finally the reality had sunk in and she had cried briefly, before taking up
the hunt for Buffy in earnest. She was the most enthusiastic and determined of
all the searchers, covering more ground speaking to more people, convincing the
police to update their missing persons report… She was desperate to find Buffy
to apologise, to make things right again. But it wasn’t possible, Buffy wasn’t
there to be found and they had to give up and go home. Alone and disillusioned.
The
next night they were taking their usual offensive against the vampire
population of Sunnydale’s cemeteries, which usually involved scaring them away
with big crosses – they were hoping to try and starve them out – when their work
had been interrupted by a new girl. A brunette who beat the vampire they were
dealing with to a pulp, before shoving a stake through its heart. She had
introduced herself as Faith, the Vampire Slayer. They were surprised,
obviously, but also grateful. A slayer was more than needed on the Hellmouth
now that they knew Buffy wasn’t coming back. They had taken her to meet Giles
and then a couple of nights later a new Watcher, Wesley, had arrived to take
over her care.
After
that things had settled into a routine. Faith did the Slaying and the others
were relieved to return to their positions as lowly slayerettes. They still
missed Buffy, but if she didn’t want to be found then there was nothing they
could do about it. And Faith was a lot of fun to work with. She seemed to enjoy
slaying rather than seeing it as a chore, frequently making jokes about the
direst situations and turning annoying Wesley and Giles into an art form. This
equilibrium continued for a while until Willie the bartender had come up with
some rather shocking news: Drusilla was back in town.
Apparently
she had been back for some weeks now, only she was keeping a low profile. This
in itself raised their suspicions, Dru was never exactly very stealthy in her
activities, so for her to make an extra special effort, probably meant she was
planning something. There was no sign of Spike, however, which was another
unusual sign. Up until a couple of months ago, the vampire couple had been
inseparable. Further research had revealed that Dru was back staying in the
mansion, along with a whole host of minions and rumour was that they had some
big secret they were waiting for the right moment to reveal.
There
was a lot of argument over what should be done. Giles said that they should
wait until they knew more details of what Dru was planning before mounting an
attack or they could walk straight into an ambush. Faith on the other hand
wanted to storm the mansion immediately and take out Drusilla before she could
do anymore harm. Eventually the matter was decided for them by Drusilla
herself, when she killed Amy – who had become an honorary member of the Scooby
gang, as well as a magic partner for Willow, since Buffy’s departure – right in
front of Oz. Fortunately, Faith had stepped in and prevented the werewolf from
getting hurt as well, but the insane Drusilla had plenty of minions to protect
her and was able to escape the Slayer’s wrath. After that there was no choice
but to take revenge upon Dru for what she had done and try to stop her from
murdering anyone else.
The
next evening all the remaining Scoobies, including Giles and Wesley, arrived at
the mansion fully armed. They were shocked to find the size of Drusilla’s army.
Apparently, she had taken over charge of the resident vampire community in
Sunnydale, what with being a direct descendent from the former master there.
They must have dusted at least ten minions before they even saw Drusilla
herself. When Dru did finally appear she grabbed Willow from behind and bit
into her neck before any of the others could even react. All Willow remembered
from that moment was an all consuming fear and the sound of Oz desperately
calling her name from where he was trapped by another vampire on the other side
of the room. Then the pain in Willow’s neck was suddenly gone and she felt the
gentle rain of ashes falling down on her skin as Drusilla was turned to dust.
She looked up to see who her saviour was and was amazed to find herself staring
at a face she had never thought she’d ever see again. Angel.
Willow’s
mouth dropped open in amazement and she could only stand and stare after Angel
as he turned and ran out of the mansion. Shortly after the battle was over as
those minions who had survived the onslaught so far ran away once their leader
was dead. The others, realising Willow was hurt and still unsure as to exactly
what happened to Drusilla, came rushing over.
“Where’d
psycho-bitch go?” Asked Faith.
“Are
you all right, Willow?” Closely followed Oz.
“Yes
and dead.” Replied Willow, still rather confused and stunned. “Uh, I mean dead
and yes.” She amended.
“Did
you actually manage to stake Drusilla?” Cordelia asked sceptically.
“Way
to go Will, I knew you had it in you.” Congratulated Xander.
“I-I
don’t, uh, I didn’t.” Willow stuttered. “Angel…”
“Deadboy
was here? I thought he was really dead now…”
“Good
Lord.” Giles remarked.
“You
mean Angelus.” Corrected Cordy.
Willow
shook her head. “No, he was Angel, good Angel. He saved me from Drusilla then
he ran away.”
“Then
we track him down and stake him.” Faith suggested.
“No!”
Willow cried out. “We can’t do that. He’s got a soul now.”
“Until
the next time he decides to get groiny with someone.” Faith shrugged. “He’s
still a vampire, soul or not and I say we kill him.”
“I’m
inclined to agree with Faith here,” interjected Wesley. “Angel is a liability,
as long as he can still lose his soul and there is a chance of Angelus
returning again.”
“B-but,
I don’t think there is.” Willow said meekly.
“What
do you mean?” Asked Giles suspiciously.
“After
I recast the curse, I spent a while studying it. I think Ms Calendar – Jenny –
she altered it to remove the clause, so Angel couldn’t lose his soul again.”
“Why
didn’t you tell me this before, Willow?” Giles enquired in a subdued voice.
“I,
urm, it didn’t seem important as we thought Angel was dead. And everyone was
busy worrying about Buffy and…” she trailed off, leaving unspoken her desire
not to upset Giles by dragging up painful memories of Ms Calendar.
There
was a long silence following this as nobody knew quite what to say in the wake
of Giles’ resurgence of grief. Eventually, Faith interrupted once more.
“I
still say we stake him. Better safe than sorry.”
“But
he saved my life and Buffy -” Willow started.
“Buffy’s
not here, anymore.” Xander reminded her.
“No,
Willow’s right.” Giles surprised everyone by saying. “Angel has been a useful
ally to us in the past and he could be again. I, um, we have no reason to doubt
the integrity of his souled self and if there’s no chance of Angelus
re-emerging then we should at least give him a chance.”
They
split up and went in search of Angel, Willow praying that Faith wouldn’t be the
first to find him, as she feared the Slayer would just stake him anyway, then
claim he attacked her or something. Willow thought she had the upper hand in
the search, however, as she suspected that she, more than the others, knew
where he would go. And she was right as well, she found him hiding in the shadows
across the street from Buffy’s house, watching her window intently.
She
approached him tentatively. “I thought you might be here.”
“Where
is she, Willow?” Angel asked. “I can’t find her. She’s not…?”
Willow
shook her head. “No.” Not as far as we know, she added silently to
herself.
Angel
seemed to accept this, however. “I didn’t think she was. I’d know if she was.”
He spoke distractedly, addressing himself as much as Willow.
“What
happened, Angel?” She asked.
He
smiled slightly, bitterly. “You don’t want to know. Now please leave me alone,
Willow.”
“No,”
she told him with determination. “You have to come with me, or you could get
staked. Faith – the new Slayer – she’s not really one for giving the benefit of
the doubt.”
“Good.”
Angel replied. “She’ll do a lot better that way.” He studied the ground. “You
should let her find me.”
Willow
stared at him in horror. “You can’t mean that.”
“I
don’t deserve to live. I wish I’d never come back from Hell.”
“What?”
He
waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter now. Just go back to the others
and don’t worry about me. I’ve always wanted to see the sun rise one more
time.”
“No,
you can’t do this, Angel. You can’t just give up. I won’t let you.” She
persisted.
“I’m not
giving up.” He said in answer. “I’m just doing what I should have done years
ago. I can’t let Angelus loose on the world again.”
Willow
breathed a huge sigh of relief. “You won’t. Jenny fixed your curse. Your soul’s
permanent now – Angelus can’t come back. We need you here Angel, we need your
help and we need you to make up for the bad things you’ve done in the past. If
you die now then all you’ll have been in your life is evil.” She finished with
a flourish of her arm, proud of her logical argument. She should talk people
out of suicide more often, she was obviously good at it. Perhaps she could be a
counsellor or a psychologist when she was older…
Her thoughts were interrupted by shouts from Oz and Xander as they spotted her in the distance. They hurried over and together they persuaded Angel to come see the others in the library. There were a few lingering resentments and mistrusts at first, but gradually Angel was accepted back into the group and collectively forgiven. Ever since then he’d been as much of an asset in the slaying department as Faith, if not more so, as the brunette Slayer tended to be slightly less reliable. And they were certainly all grateful for his presence.
* * * * *
Willow stops speaking and I sense that is all she has to say to me for this evening at least. There is still so much more I want to ask or know. The details I am missing from his period spent with Drusilla or what his response was when he heard the story of my disappearance. But I can’t ask these things of Willow now, she has done me a big enough favour telling me all she has. And, besides, I already have far too much to think about and process. Like renewed feelings of guilt over leaving, upon hearing Willow’s reaction to it, plus the fact that Angel’s soul is permanent now. His curse can no longer be broken, which I already had a pretty good idea of, because ‘duh’, but still to hear it out loud is something. We can be together now, properly together, with no fears for the consequences of our union. But is our history still too much to ever prevent us having a remotely healthy relationship?
I notice Willow is leaving and I am jogged back to reality. I grasp her hand, as she gets up, squeezing it gently. “Thanks.”
She smiles back at me, before releasing my hand and exiting the room, instructing me to get a good night’s sleep, I will need all the energy I have for tomorrow. I refrain from asking about tomorrow and instead settle back under the blankets, letting all the things I have just found out in the past few hours spin around in my head. I am just thinking how impossible it will be for me to sleep, after so much has happened, when my eyes start to drift shut and my awareness of the world begins to slip away. My last thought before I drift of to sleep is of Angel and our reunion earlier. I can only hope that I dream of him…