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Summary: Fourth in a series. I felt Angel’s grief and pain was too short lived and unrealistic considering the fact Buffy is meant to be the only woman he has ever loved in his 250+ years of life. So this series of mine is basically a rewrite of Angel season 3 and probably some rewrites of Buffy season 6 to fit in with it. This is my world of Buffy and Angel instead of the Jossverse, which we all know means Buffy and Angel have to be together in some way.
A/N: I am not intending to completely rewrite every part of every script, if there are parts missing just assume they went the same way they did in the show.
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“Angel?” Angel appeared from the shadows a few minutes after Cordy had called for him. “What’s wrong? Did you even sleep at all last night? Have you been eating properly?” Angel ignored her questions and sat.
“Was I wrong?” She sat beside him.
“About?”
“About giving up, about leaving about turning back that day, not staying when she asked me to.”
“No Angel you weren’t wrong, you were right. I know it doesn’t seem like that but I am right. You did what was for the best.”
“Did I? Maybe if I’d stayed and we had tried harder to figure it out then maybe she’d still be here.”
“Angel her dying is not your fault.” Angel stared at her for a minute before getting up and walking away. Cordelia sighed. Gunn and Wesley came out of the office. They sat on either side of her. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
*
It’s a slow night at the Hyperion. Wesley pours over a text at the bookcase. Gunn taps away at a Gameboy. Cordelia leafs through some fashion magazines on the poof couch, her back to the stairs, which Fred tiptoes down so quietly that no one even notices. Fred leans over Cordelia's shoulder, glancing at the magazines. As she leans closer, Cordelia sees her and jumps, startling Fred and Wesley.
“Gahh!”
“Whoo!”
“Fenh!” Gunn remains completely unfazed.
“Hey Fred.”
“Sorry. Did I startle you guys?”
“Naw”
“Only in the sense of shocking and jolting us. What's up?”
“Nothing, just taking a little stroll and... why do girls want to look like that? I spent years in a cave, starving. What's their excuse?”
“Fashion.” Fred laughs a little too much, stops.
“So everybody's readin' and hangin'...” She looks around, searching a little. Cordy notices.
“Angel's upstairs.”
“Oh. Probably reading, too. He's deep, you know, thoughtful. I'm guessing Brothers Karamozav, Joyce, a little Goethe to round things out -- the classics.” Angel comes down the stairs. Newspaper in his hands.
“Am I the only one who read this?!”
“Read what?”
“Charlton Heston double feature at the Nu Art. Soylent Green and The Omega Man.”
“Wow.” Wesley returns to his text. Cordelia to her magazines.
“It's two for one. And did I mention Charlton Heston?! Who's in?”
“That sounds great!”
“Fred. Who else? Wes?”
“Well, I'm actually in the middle of translating Fassad's Guide from the original Sumerian...”
“Fine. Gunn? Cordy? Soylent Green.”
“Yeah, I hear it's people.” Gunn continues with his Gameboy.
“Sounds like fun -- no wait, that would be staying here and not going.”
“So it's just Fred and me?” Fred can't help but smile -- and possibly make a funny noise.
“I’m just gonna go grab a jacket.” Fred heads up the stairs. Angel gets a reflective look on his face.
“What?” He snaps out of it at Cordelia’s voice.
“What?”
“You went all deep and broody and like 5 seconds ago you were all excited about this thing.”
“Oh, it’s just Buffy and I never had a real date, we had something that I suppose could technically qualify as a date but then faith showed and they went on patrol so we never counted that. We always said we would. I told her she’d like Charlton Heston. She said that anything I liked she’d like. She said she trusted me.” Cordelia finally puts down her magazine.
“Angel you have to put her to rest.” Angel finally gets what she’s talking about just as Fred appears again.
“No Cordelia, I already told you. Not now, not ever. I can’t. In fact not only I am I not doing that I am never setting foot in Sunnydale again! Period!” Angel turns and leaves with Fred following.
*
“You don't realize how many weird things happen in this city until you start reading the paper.”
“You need to talk to Fred.” Angel doesn't even look up.
“What about?”
“About the big date you guys had last night.” Now Angel looks up.
“Whoa. "Date?" It was just a movie.”
“That's what you need to tell her. She's in there going on and on about what a super time you guys had.”
“She's just enthusiastic. Don't read too much into it.”
“She's got the big puppy love! I mean, who wouldn't? You're handsome. And brave and heroic. Mysterious...” Angel smiles; faux bashful; not disagreeing. “...emotionally stunted, erratic, prone to turning evil, and let's face it, a eunuch.”
“Hey! What -- how can you -- I'm not a eunuch!”
“Angel, it's just a figure of speech.”
“Find a better one!”
“I just mean sex is a no-no for you cause of this whole "if you know perfect bliss you'll turn evil" curse. Really no way of curing that, huh?” Looking at him she realises what she just says and her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Oh god Angel, I’m so, so sorry I didn’t mean it like that I just…” Angel gets up.
“I know Cordy but I think I want to be alone for a while,
you know think a little.” Before Cordy can answer Wesley walks in. He picks up
Angel’s discarded paper and his brow furrows before he starts reading out loud.
”... police found the body of 26-year-old Woodrow Raglan in a two-bedroom suite
at the Elondria Hotel. An unnamed witness said "it was as if his insides
had just... collapsed. You know, there was something else like that, last week
as well.” Wesley pulls out a folder of news clippings and begins sifting
through them.
“Um, may I point out that no one's actually hiring us to
look into this?” She catches Angel’s eye and nods towards Fred. “And that we
should be doing more
important things?” Wesley finds what he was looking for. He puts another
newspaper article on the desk, from his clip-file.
“Here, happened ten days ago. A body found in another hotel room under similar conditions.”
“What do you think? Spell? Curse? Serial demon?”
“Tough to say. Worth a closer look.”
“I'll say! Cordelia, open a case file! We have to get on this right away!” He hands her the news clippings and a folder and walks away. She stares daggers after him.
************************
“Your daughter's
here.” He moves away. Old Angel considers that, rises:
“This'll take just a minute.”
“Angel--”
“Clock him again if he starts to wake up.” Fred wallops fake Angel. “If he wakes up!” Old Angel exits. Old Angel moves up to Madeline.
“I'm not sure why I'm here. Did you really wanna talk to me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what did you want to talk about?”
“Forgiveness.” She smiles -- it's not a warm smile.
“Forgiveness.”
“All the things I did and worse, failed to do for you I don't see how I can ever make up for them this late in the game.
“No, you can't. But now that you're old and dying, I'm supposed to forgive you!”
“No. Not me. You have to forgive yourself.”
“This is some crap that…”
“This is the last
time I'm ever gonna ask you to so please listen to me. I'm not your father. Not
in any real sense and you have every right to cut me out of your life. You need
to. But I know from experience nobody's ever gonna believe that. They'll tell
you no matter what, I'm your father and that we have a bond. And on some level,
you'll believe them.”
“The thought of you trying to psychoanalyse…” She's seething but it's getting through to her. He interrupts:
“On some level, you'll think there's something wrong. With you. Something wrong in you that I didn't love you more, treat you better. Something wrong that you're able to cut me out of your life. That ain't the case. You said I don't have a heart, but I know you do. I know how much you feel, how much you love. You need a family and you'll make one, I know. I'm not a part of that. I don't wanna be.” She starts to tear up. And laugh a little at the same time. “What?”
“It's just, I've been trying so hard all these years to forget you and now you're saying...”
“... you should.” She lets the tears flow -- these aren't sobs, just honest sorrow at the truth of his words. She nods, gets up to go.
“Bye, Dad.” He watches her go. Fake Angel, unconscious, propped in an easy chair. Gunn's tying Fake Angel's hands together with an electrical cord. He finishes as Old Angel steps back into the room.
“Let's do this.” Wesley hands him the memo pad.
“Read this.”
“"Alii permutat anima kimota! Alii permutat anima kimota!"” As before, energy beams flow out of the two men's eyes, nose and mouth. Their souls flow back into their rightful bodies. Angel opens his eyes. Wakes in his own body. Gunn looks him in the eye, not sure the spell worked.
“It's cool, Gunn. It's me.” Gunn unties the cord. Marcus realizes he's in his own body. Looks down at his aged hands. Cordelia enters, conjuring stone in hand.
“I've got his conjuring stone.”
“You can't take that!” Angel takes the stone from Cordelia and crushes it to dust in his hand. “You -- you don't deserve that body.”
“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.” Angel presses his finger to Marcus's chest. “And I'll tell you why you have a weak heart, Marcus. -- You never use it.” Everyone files out of the rec room, leaving Marcus to fume.
“You're pathetic. You're all pathetic--” Marcus turns beet red. Suddenly gripped by pain. Grabs his chest. Starts wheezing.
“Try to keep a lid on that rage Marcus. It's not healthy.” Ryan spots Angel and Gang filing out.
“What's going on?” Angel without looking back.
“Dad's having a bad
night.”
*
It is night and Angel is hunched over an old copy of a Browning’s Sonnets. Fred approaches him.
“Hi. How's your
head? Sorry 'bout all that…” She mimes clubbing.
”I gather I had it coming.” She shakes her head to the negative.
“Ohh... yes.”
“Fred, I, I've been meaning to talk to you...”
“Uh huh, okay.” She
looks up at him with the giant eyes. He hesitates. “Is this about how you're
not like other men, what with that curse and all, and you're really fond
of me but that's as far as it goes?”
“Uhhh, yeah.”
“Cordelia explained it all to me. She said you'd probably just screw it up.”
“Oh she did, did she ...” He ponders this for a second before replying in a kind way. “She's probably right.” Fred lets out a big sigh. “What?”
“The book you’re reading. It’s been so long since I read anything. Last thing I read was something out of Fitzgerald. It kind of makes me think of you, the man who can have everything but love.” She pauses. “Well, maybe in some ways you're better off. Because love is -- well in a way it's everything -- but it's also heartache and disappointment and those are good things to avoid.” Angel sighs and turns the book over in his hand. They sit there for a minute, then: Cordelia bursts through the French Doors onto the landing. Eyes wide.
“Angel! Willow's on the phone.” She takes a deep breath trying to control her excitement. “She's alive. Buffy's alive.” Angel takes a half-second to register this. Then he's on his feet and running inside. Fred's left by herself.
“Who's Buffy?”