TITLE: Ricordisi Di (Remember) 1/?
SERIES: Scratch -
http://always.basiamille.com/fanfic/scratch/
AUTHOR: Ducks, The AngelHo
EMAIL:
DISCLAIMER: Has anybody ever actually gotten sued for
writing fanfic?
I'm just wondering, considering the amount of time we
writers spend
making sure our disclaimers are in order. Okay, so, everybody except
me, then. *G*
RATING: NC-17 for language and sexual content
PAIRING: B/A, Faith/Wood, Others we haven't seen yet.
TIMELINE: Two years after "
few weeks after the events of "The Last Cut is the
Deepest", June
2005. You're going
to want to read the first two stories first, or
you'll be completely lost.
SPOILERS: Entire B/A saga is fair game. Including the
pseudo-canon of
the past few seasons.
SUMMARY: Things held together with lies always fall
apart.
DISTRIBUTION: Distribute freely, so long as you send me
the address,
and leave these tags intact.
FEEDBACK: `Tis the fuel for my
fantasies. Okay, so, naked Angel is
fuel for my fantasies, but I like feedback anyway. *G*
DEDICATION: In memory of Clarissa "Clerkymonkey" Love, passionate B/A
‘shipper, steadfast supporter, and amazing friend. We'll never forget
you, sister.
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter One by Ducks
~
Buffy eased to wakefulness spurred by the amazing
sensation of cool,
wet kisses forging a shivering trail of bliss down her
spine.
For that first half-conscious moment, she thought she was
still
dreaming – only in her dreams did that mouth taste her...
those
strong, gentle hands caress her. Only in the still of sleep was
Angel there to call her body joyfully into the day with
his touch.
But in the second moment – the one, in fact, when his
tongue dipped
into the little dimples where the small of her back met
her rear end -
- she remembered...
She wasn't dreaming.
He was real. He was here, in her
bed. And he
was hers, at last.
She beamed as she turned over to find that dream come
true smiling
back at her.
"Good morning," he greeted softly, reaching up
to caress her face.
"You are the best alarm clock ever," she
murmured, brushing a tender,
grateful kiss to his sweet mouth.
He combed her sleep-mussed hair from her face, and bent
for a longer,
deeper kiss.
"And you can't smash me against the wall in hopes you
won't have to get up."
"Well, I *can*," she reminded him. "But you tend to fight back. Who
wants that?"
"You could always... push the snooze button,"
he purred, rubbing what
Buffy affectionately called his "morning
salute" against her smooth,
warm thigh. She
had given up trying to figure out how a dead person
could have a morning hard-on a long time ago.
She sighed deeply and reached for him, reveling in his
rumbling moan
as her hand wrapped around and she took up a gentle, lazy
stroke on
his erection.
Angel leaned his forehead against hers and let her
gentle, passionate
touch wash through him, waking his every ostensibly dead
cell to
roaring life. She
was right – best wake up call ever.
"God, Buffy..." he gasped, rocking into her
grip, "I can never get
enough of you. It
seems like every time we're together, I only want
you more."
"I know what you mean," she whispered, gazing
with unbridled
adoration into his dark, passion-clouded eyes. "I almost got my head
chopped off in weapons the other night, thinking about
exactly this."
"Mmm... You think about
this... while you're... God... teaching...
sw...sword... p-play?"
Buffy grinned to herself.
She loved having the power to make her
usually articulate lover stammer incoherently. She circled her
fingers slowly around the head of his penis, then traced
a long, slow
line down the pulsing muscle, over his sac, the sensitive
skin
beneath and back, then rolled over on top of him.
"Well… swords, you know. Phallic symbols always make me think of
you," she murmured huskily in his ear, feeling her
own desire
growing. She was
sorely tempted just to climb on, take him deep
inside of her, and let them ride the coming crest
together, but if
she wasn't mistaken, he had been spending a
disproportionate amount
of their intimate time as the do-er,
and not nearly enough as the do-
ee. "Especially big ones. It's very distracting."
"S-swords…" he moaned, his eyes rolling back,
slipping shut in
pleasure. Buffy
resisted the urge to giggle. Instead,
she slid
farther down the slope of his amazing body until she was
face to face
with his throbbing member.
As penises went, Angel's was nothing less than a masterpiece: long,
straight and thick, the foreskin pulled tight and ruddy
with borrowed
blood, the head bulging as if to beg for more
attention. She could
recall with perfect sensory detail just the way he fit
inside her,
stretching her body to its preternatural limits… the way
he
gracefully gyrated his powerful hips to caress every inch
of her
insides when they made love.
A great penis deserved a great blowjob every now and
then, didn't it?
Buffy sealed her lips around his girth and took him deep and
fast
into the back of her throat, reveling in the little
whimpering sound
he gave in response when the tip of him touched her
tonsils. His
hands came up to tangle in her hair, his fingers
clenching and
unclenching spasmodically in time with the slow, smooth
rhythm she
set, sucking hard as she drew him out, then licking
butterfly quick
spirals along his length on the way back down.
Angel forced his eyes open, pulling back the golden
curtain of her
hair so that he could watch her devour him. The sight tore his
emotions in two, and he struggled between mindless,
animalistic bliss and
aching tenderness over the way she so instinctively
understood what
he liked. Such a
short time making love together – only a few weeks,
really – and Buffy knew his body so well, it felt as
though all the
years this intimacy was forbidden them had never happened
at all.
Of course, they had been *very* busy making up for that
lost time…
Buffy peered up at him, her eyes burning emerald with
passion as she
took him down once more.
The vision of his beautiful vixen sent a
rush of lust burning through him, the inclination to let
his impending
orgasm shatter him and release deep in her warm, tight
mouth almost
overwhelming.
Instead, he urged her upward, claiming her mouth with his
own,
running his hands over every inch of her soft, writhing
body that he
could reach. Her
hand wrapped around him once more, using the
moisture from her mouth to lubricate her continuing
fierce stroke on
his cock. His body
pulsed hard, ecstasy rocking him like a storm,
bringing his peak faster, closer… so close…
"Mmm… Buffy…" he
rasped, sliding his hand between her thighs, dipping
a finger into her to touch her steaming wet core. "Baby, yes.
Please… don't stop."
"Never," she sighed as his finger slipped out
and slicked up over her
sensitive nub.
"Angel…"
He never stopped wondering at how hyper-responsive Buffy
was to his
touch. Another
perk of her Slayer senses? It took only a few tiny
circles around her clitoris before she began to thrust
wildly against
his hand, increasing her pace on his erection as she lost
control,
her breathing growing ragged… frantic…
She let out a cry that echoed across her bedroom as she
bowed away
from him, overwhelmed by the strength of her climax. Angel closed
his free hand over her to guide her caress and watching
her beautiful
face contort in rapture, let go and joined her, clutching
her close
as they came together.
She collapsed against him, spent, but spiritually
energized… and
incredibly sticky.
She cast a woeful glance at the alarm clock and
heaved a deep sigh.
"I have an appointment at UCLA this morning to
hire a tutor," she lamented, "I have to get
up."
Refusing to let her go, Angel pulled her closer, distracting
her with
a long, profound kiss that made his body start to respond
almost
instantly.
"Me too," he purred as she came up for
air. "At least once more."
Buffy laughed, and reluctantly pried herself out of his
embrace,
climbing out of bed and dodging his attempt to grab her.
"No way, pal.
You're not making me late *again*.
It's hard enough
to get the girls to focus as it is without having to go
through the
whole "Oooooh, Bufffffyyyyyy!" thing every morning."
Angel snatched a dirty shirt from the pile on the floor
and wiped off
his hands and stomach, then tossed it at her with a
smartass grin.
"I could always stop spending the night…" he
suggested teasingly,
knowing full well he'd never really follow through, and
she'd never let him.
Not a single night had passed over the past few weeks
when they
didn't fall asleep and wake in one another's arms – and
he had no
intention of that changing anytime in the next… oh,
forever or so.
She tossed the soiled shirt into the hamper and snorted
as she looked
around for her robe.
"Yeah, right. Why don't you
give up drinking
blood while you're at it?"
He sat up, and vampire-fast, grabbed her wrist before she
could get
away, pulling her back down into his lap and nuzzling her
throat.
This was his very favorite scent on her – the musk of
their bodies
blended together.
The scent of love. The smell of
dreams come true.
"You make it sound like I'm the only one having a
good time here,"
he murmured into her ear, then nipped the lobe, "I
seem to recall
another party involved being fairly enthusiastic. As evidenced by
several broken headboard slats on my bed."
She wiggled slightly, and felt his body's instant
reaction. Yay
for
vampire recovery time.
The feel of his big, hard body wrapped around
her was sorely tempting, but the Responsible Schoolmarm
in her head
was nagging too loudly to ignore. "That bunch is wild enough without
me giving them material to feed their horny teenaged
fantasies."
Angel grimaced in distaste, but still refused to let her
go. "I
don't think I need to know about a bunch of teenaged
girls'
fantasies, thanks."
Buffy leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You didn't seem to
mind my teenaged girl fantasies."
"Exception to the rule," he declared, and
tugged her in for another
kiss.
"BUFFY COME QUICK! Oh. Um… sorry.
Hi, Angel."
Buffy let her head drop onto his shoulder as Angel very
calmly pulled
the coverlet around them.
He glanced up to find Vi standing in the
doorway with her back to the room.
"Good morning, Vi," he greeted her evenly.
With a sigh, Buffy clutched the blanket to her chest and
turned
around to face her trespassing student. "Did you skip the orientation
segment where we taught you to knock before barging into
our
apartments? It's okay.
You can turn around now."
"No, no. I'm
fine," the girl mumbled. "I
wouldn't bother you
usually, but… the third floor bathroom exploded
again. Rona said she
needed a floatation device to get out of the shower."
Angel crawled under the sheets as Buffy rose, taking the
blanket with
her.
"Did you call Xander?"
she asked, once again commencing the search
around the floor for her missing bathrobe.
"He says he doesn't have a floatation device,"
the embarrassed Slayer
reported.
"Fine. Let me
get dressed and talk to him. Can you go
down
and tell the freshmen I'll be late? Have them start warming up.
Michelle can lead the katas if
I don't make it."
Vi nodded and flashed Angel a bright but sheepish smile
over her
shoulder as she left the room.
"See?" Buffy grumbled. "Anyone even vaguely male and attractive
sends them all into a slathering tailspin."
"I thought you locked the door last night," he
said as he tucked his
arms behind his head and watched his lover stumble around
the room
toward the bath.
"I could have sworn I did," she replied,
rummaging through the closet
for something not filthy to wear. Between quasi-apocalypses,
exploding plumbing, and Angel-sex, she couldn't remember
the last
time she'd done laundry.
"I must have gotten distracted by you
ripping my clothes off."
She paused and turned back to look at him one last time
before the
chaos of her day began.
He was so beautiful, lying there, naked,
smiling, looking so damned yummy with the sheet just
barely covering
his groin… Another pang of wishing she could crawl back
into bed with
him and hide there forever washed through her.
"Is it time for retirement yet?" she sighed.
Angel shrugged and gave her a smirk. "I told you I'd give you an
endowment so you could hire more teachers…"
Buffy slapped her hands over her ears and stomped into
the
bathroom. "Lalalalalala… can't hear you… lalalalalala…"
Angel scowled at the slamming door. Damn Buffy's pride! He took
note for the millionth time of the cracks in her bedroom
ceiling, the
worn floorboards, the faded wallpaper – and those were
only surface
problems. He
didn't even want to begin to imagine the
shape the
school's wiring or structural integrity might be in – and
they
already knew the plumbing was crap. The girls' tuition (those that
paid any. Many
didn't, and no Slayer was ever turned away simply
because she couldn't pay) was barely enough to keep them
fed. And
still his stubborn lover wouldn't accept his help. She insisted it
was because she and the rest of the founding members of
the school
staff wanted to make it work on their own… but he
suspected it had
more to do with *where* the money came from. Buffy didn't exactly
keep her feelings about his employers secret – she didn't
trust
them. Period.
Not that he blamed her.
Angel didn't trust the senior partners
either. He
wondered sometimes, though, if some small part of her
mistrust was subconsciously transferred onto him.
He also had to wonder that she might be right to do
so. The
fuzzy moral lines he often had to walk to keep his
position made
*him* uncomfortable.
He was never quite sure if he was given all the facts
with regard to his various jobs… and yet he continued to
perform them,
hoping
against hope that he could stop any aftermath before it
got out of
control.
But then… weren't he and Buffy's lives full of that kind
of ethical
uncertainty? Take
her and Willow's spell to activate all potential
Slayers in the world, for example. Buffy had questioned it herself – was
it fair to lay the same burden that had weighed so
heavily on her
since she was 15 upon hundreds of innocent girls who had
never asked
for it, instead of only one? And his own personal
choices, however
well intentioned, were also suspect – especially where
the
complicated alteration of reality on Connor's behalf was
concerned.
Was it his right to wipe his son's memories, however
debilitating
they might have been?
And what about the others? Fred,
Wes and Gunn… a
significant portion of their lives had been so deeply
effected by Connor's
existence – had he stepped too far out of line by
altering their
reality in such a way?
He wondered every day – had he done the right thing? Should he have
tried to save his son the hard way, knowing the emotional
torture
Connor suffered… the danger he posed to others as a
result of it?
Angel could never really be sure of anything, except that
he had
taken the only option he'd had at the time: give Connor a
chance for
a normal, happy life.
Right or wrong, he was willing to suffer any
consequence to give his only child that rare and precious
gift.
Even if it meant lying to everyone he knew, and
subsequently rotting
in Hell for all eternity.
Caught up in his dark thoughts, he didn't notice Buffy
standing in
the bathroom doorway watching him until she spoke.
"Still Olympic Brooding Champ, aren't you?" she
teased.
Angel looked up and couldn't help the grin that overtook
him at the
sight of her.
"I wasn't brooding. I was…
considering."
"Uh huh. So…
if you're done, maybe you could give me a hand washing my
back?"
He was out of bed and standing before her in less than a
heartbeat.
Buffy squealed happily as he swept her up and carried her
into the
steamy bathroom, kicking the door shut behind them… and
making very
certain the door was locked.
~
"I think I'm going crazy."
Dr. Argenta Matheson, staff
psychologist for the University of
California at Los Angeles' Student Union, allowed silence
to reign as
that statement hung in the air, giving her a moment to
take careful
note of her newest client's appearance and demeanor for
her report.
** Subject is lucid, speech patterns are clear. Shows awareness of
surroundings and understanding of his current situation.
**
"I see. And
why would you think that, Ben?" she asked, watching his
body language as he considered his response.
** Appearance is somewhat slovenly, but not
unhygienic. Clothing
expensive and clean, although rumpled as though subject
slept in
them. Subject
shows outward signs of anxiety and slight paranoia,
including gaze continually darting toward the door and
windows, hands
clutched in lap or fiddling with objects on the desk,
taps foot every
few seconds.
Subject appears to be watching for something. **
"It started last semester," the honor student
explained.
"Nightmares. Really bad
ones."
He hesitated, but that was to be expected -- many
students were
embarrassed to admit buckling under stress or suffering
from mental
illness.
Especially overachievers like Benjamin Brannen. She
mentally reviewed the facts of his file quickly: 20 years
old, son
of a healthy, intact upper-middle class nuclear family,
3.89 grade
point average, varsity athlete, widely respected peer
tutor and
mentor, popular, witty and well liked by students and
professors
alike.
But there was something the file didn't say, and she was
here to find
out exactly how that was manifesting itself.
"What kind of nightmares?" she urged gently.
The young man's eyes once again ticked to the door and
then downward
at his hands as he explained.
"Fire.
There's always fire everywhere.
Lakes of it. It rains fire,
sometimes. And...
there are people. I feel like I should
know them,
and they seem so familiar, but I don't remember ever
seeing them
before. Like...
two men who aren't my father, but I call them "Dad"
in my dreams. And
there's a woman..."
"A woman?
Your mother?" My, wouldn't
Freud have a field day with
this boy?
Ben shook his head.
"No. She's... in the dreams,
I'm in love with
her. We... have a
baby together, and it's a... monster. It
eats
people."
The doctor didn't blink.
Her superiors had told her to expect
something like this from Ben Brannen. But part of her job was simply
to get him to share without making any judgements or showing any
feelings one way or the other if he told her something
that most
people might consider shocking.
There was little that surprised her in her line of work.
"You child was a monster."
"Yeah. And
that's not all. I have these weird...
flashes.
Sensations. Pain,
mostly. Fear. Loneliness.
And really muddled
pictures, like I'm watching bits of a bad online
transfer."
"And what do you see in these flashes?"
** Subject shows expected signs of confusion, disbelief,
and shame.
His relationships have suffered, including a breakup with
a long-time
girlfriend. He
appears both upset and grimly determined as he
describes his 'flashes', nightmares, and hallucinations.
**
Ben dragged his gaze up to meet the doctor's, as though
it required
considerable effort.
"More monsters," he said simply.
"Like the one your lover gave birth to?"
He shook his head.
"No. These are always
different... breeds, I
guess. Except for
the..." he cleared his throat and shifted
uncomfortably in his seat, pulling his lean body up
straight as
though preparing to defend himself from the possible
consequences of
what he was about to confess. "Except for the vampires. They're...
everywhere."
"You mentioned in your intake that you've had
hallucinations of
vampires attacking you," Dr. Matthews read from her
notes.
A flash of panic rippled through the boy's dark blue
eyes, but was
gone in the next moment.
"They had to be hallucinations.
It's the
only explanation that makes sense. There's no such thing as
vampires."
The doctor suppressed the urge to smile at the hopeful,
fearful, and
naive sentiment of Ben's statement. It wasn't the first time she'd
heard that sound -- the music of desperate, crumbling
denial, when
someone realized for the first time that the thing that
went bump was
real.
"No, of course there are no such thing as
vampires," she lied,
leaning toward him.
"Tell me more about these hallucinations. You
said you've had injuries from them. Psychosomatic manifestations.
Bruises, cuts..."
** There can be no doubt -- the spell that transformed
Connor Angel
into Benjamin Brannen is coming
unraveled. Steps should be taken to
take advantage of the situation as soon as possible. If his full
memory is restored, it is likely that his mind will snap
under the
pressure, and he will once again present a danger to
himself and
others.
The plan has been a complete success. **
~
Therapy was a total crock, Ben decided as he left the
Union. There
was no one back in that office that could help him, any
more than
any of the other ones he'd visited since all of this had
begun.
He was definitely losing his mind. And not in the usual honor
student, end-of-the-semester, stressed out manner,
either. The usually
good-natured and stolid UCLA junior had gone way beyond
that point.
Way beyond sleepless nights and caffeine overdose
headaches and
general nervousness.
Way beyond snapping at his girlfriend (ex-
girlfriend, he reminded himself bitterly)and downing
Rolaids like
candy.
He really *was* seeing monsters.
When it was just the nightmares, he dismissed them as
symptoms of
stress, what with his thesis, his overabundance of
tutoring clients,
and the GRE's coming up.
If that had been all there was to it, he
could have just headed home for summer vacation to chill
out with
Karen and his family.
Done some fishing. Gone for
hikes. Stepped
up his T’ai Chi practice and
get his head back on straight before he
started his senior year.
He had planned to do just that... until the first vampire
attacked
him on the way home from the library one steamy May
night, and then
vanished into what looked like a whirlpool that sprung up
in mid-
air. But not until
after Ben had gone all Jackie Chan on it, giving
the demon a surprisingly solid ass whupping. Amazing, considering he
had never so much as thrown a punch before in his life...
Ben had gone directly to Student Health Services the next
morning to get
checked out. See
if maybe somebody slipped something into his Pepsi
at dinner or something.
But the blood tests and full physical exam
they'd given him declared him perfectly healthy.
Bodily, anyway.
The madness hadn't stopped there, either. Something that looked like
a cross between the Creature from the Black Lagoon and Shamu had come
after him the weekend he and Karen had gone camping in
the woods near
Sunnydale Canyon. A trio of vampires dragged him into an alley
outside the art house theater on Lincoln. And what he could have
sworn was a werewolf snarled at him as he walked by the
Alpha Chi
house two weeks ago.
And every time, the same thing happened: Ben suddenly turned
into a
much cooler version of Steven Seagal
-- going so far as to snap the
neck of one of the vampires -- and then whatever it was
just vanished
into one of the strange mini-storms everyone in L.A. had
been talking
about.
He was coming completely unglued. His girlfriend left him. His dad
asked him if he was "doing dope". He could barely make himself get
out of bed in the morning for a while, he was so
terrified of what
might happen next.
The private shrink he'd gone to see wanted to put
him on anti-psychotic meds... or consider checking
himself into the nearest
hospital psych. ward.
He'd stopped going to that shrink *real* quick.
The nightmares and flashbacks kept getting worse, and
after a while,
instead of freezing in terror or shutting down
completely, Ben
Brannen had gotten
*pissed*. Maybe he was cracking up, but
damn it,
he wasn't going to let insanity steal his life. He'd worked hard for
everything he had.
No way in Hell was he giving it all up and
checking into a loony bin, or pumping himself so full of
drugs he
couldn't function anymore.
So he threw himself into his schoolwork. Took every tutoring job he was
offered. Spent all
of his free time in the library, redoubling his
efforts to graduate with high honors. None of this stopped the
nightmares, the hallucinations, or any of the other
horrors haunting
his reality... it didn't bring Karen back...
But it made him feel stronger than he had in months, like
he had
finally regained some control over his life.
After all, if he was *really* crazy, he wouldn't be aware
of it,
would he? And that meant that sooner or later, he was
going to figure
out why his nearly perfect life was morphing into some
twisted sci-fi
creature feature.
The answer was out there somewhere, and Benjamin Brannen fully
intended to find it.
Whatever it took.
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Two by Ducks
~
A little while after the plumbers they couldn't afford
were gone, Buffy
stared at the man who was the closest thing she'd ever
had to a brother in
complete shock. "What do you mean, they can't fix
it?"
The
pipe he'd just duct taped back together for the third
time that week. The
pair were standing in the dorm basement, calf-deep in
water.
"I mean, they can't fix it. The pipes have been
soldered so many times,
they've rotted right through," Xander
explained. "The whole system needs to
be replaced."
"The whole third floor?" the headmistress
yelped, distress instantly
swamping her. This was way too much like the time her
plumbing exploded back
in Sunnydale - times a hundred.
And the school had less money than she did
back then.
"No," Xander
corrected her, "I meant the whole dorm wing. Possibly the whole
building."
Okay... times a billion, then.
Buffy sank down onto the old weight bench beside her,
tucking her feet under
herself to get them out of the water. "That'll
cost... Oh, God," she moaned
and covered her face with her hands.
"Oh, it's so much worse than that," her friend
went on with forced cheer.
"We've got the building inspector coming on
Friday." He moved to the next
length of pipe that needed taping, "And considering
the fact that the wiring
catches on fire every time someone runs the microwave,
plus our magickal
Fantasia plumbing, I'm think we aren't going to pass. And
though the idea of
camping out on the lawn with two hundred teenaged girls
sounds like more fun
than one over 21 guy should have according to the State
of
not crazy about having Spike along. Or having to crap in
the woods."
Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and wished for the billionth
time that she had
just stayed in bed with Angel this morning. It wasn't
like she was actually
getting any work done anyway, and thoughts of her vampire
naked in her arms
were way more pleasant than the possibility that they
might all be homeless
shortly.
She heard a splash, and glanced up to find Robin wading
toward them, his
slacks rolled up to the knee, his expression half-bemused
and half annoyed
as he took in the dismal scene.
"So... when did we get an indoor pool?" he
inquired dryly. "You are aware
that we don't have a certified lifeguard on
premises."
Buffy shot him a glare, but Xander
was the one who replied. "Right after we
put the new fireplace in the kitchen. You know... behind
the microwave and
the remains of the air popper that melted into the
counter last week."
The school's administrator arched an eyebrow at his boss.
"I'm thinking
now's a bad time to put in a requisition to replace the
windows in the Chem.
Lab. Magickal formulas are Hell
on glass."
The primary Slayer's look only darkened.
"Yeah, that's what I figured," Robin replied to
himself. "Okay, so now I'm
going to shift into School Official mode and tell you
that you need to drop
your stubborn pride routine and take the money Angel
keeps offering. I'm not
much for homelessness."
"That's what I said... sort of," Xander agreed. "I know you said you don't
want to take charity and all that... which is noble and
everything. But,
Buff... I can't keep holding this place together with
rubber bands and duct
tape. The inspectors are going to close us down if we
don't do something.
Fast. Like now."
Buffy got up and waded to the basement's single, pitiful
window, and looked
longingly out at the beautiful summer morning. "I'm
not comfortable taking
Angel's money."
The two men exchanged a look.
"Angel's money, or Wolfram & Hart's money?"
Robin wondered aloud. "Green is
green at this point, isn't it? And as of Friday, I think
we'll officially be
graduating from `in need' to `desperate'."
She held her breath and thought about what her colleagues
were saying. Was
it that she didn't want to depend on Angel's way more
stable finances, thus
declaring her failure as an independent adult, or was it
some subconscious
fear that the money was somehow tainted... that accepting
it might have
strings attached that even her hyper-vigilant lover
wouldn't be aware of?
"I know," she sighed. "And I don't think
it matters why I don't want to. I
just don't. We have to find another way. That federal
grant, maybe..."
Xander chucked the ball of
leftover duct tape into the water in frustration.
"Buffy, this is stupid! Angel's richer than God,
now! It's not like you're
begging him for it..." he trailed off. "Let me
rephrase. He's offering us a
grant, is what I'm saying. Not only that, he said he
could put his own
contractors on it, if we wanted, which would skirt the
whole money thing
altogether. He wants to help - why won't you let
him?"
"I have to agree, Buffy. We're in dire straits,
here," Robin reiterated.
"Okay, okay!" the Slayer cried. "I'll
think about it, all right? God."
The two men watched their friend and employer slosh her
way to the stairs
and stomp off. The door slammed behind her, and another
pipe directly to
Xander's right burst,
half-drowning him in the resulting deluge.
"I really hope she thinks fast," Robin
commented, "Or the only degree we'll
be able to offer is in Advanced Swimming. Or possibly
Wilderness Survival."
~
Angel happily plopped down on the couch in his office
with the newest
delivery from his private investigator in hand, and
kicked his feet up on
the coffee table. Things had been so crazy around the
city over the last
couple of months, he hadn't had time to read the latest
updates on Connor,
and he was eager to catch up.
He ripped open the envelope... and frowned to see how
thin the contents
were. No pictures, no school papers, only a report.
A tickle of fear stuck in his chest. In two years, there
had never been such
a dearth of news about his son. Benjamin was always
active, on the move,
taking part in this or that event or activity. There were
usually term
papers for Angel to read and new articles to peruse. What
was happening that
had slowed Ben down so much so suddenly?
The detective's report was blunt: Benjamin Brannen's golden boy life was
falling apart around his ears. His grades had plummeted.
His childhood
sweetheart left him. He quit all of his sports. He had
begun spending most
of his time when he wasn't working his fingers to the
bone by himself. His
demeanor had become dark and sullen.
Drugs, Angel immediately thought - like any normal
paranoid parent might,
though he was nothing close to "normal", or,
technically, even a parent
anymore.
No, that didn't wash. Ben was notoriously square by
reputation - a `Your
Body is A Temple' sort of athlete who drank milk at
parties and got eight
hours of sleep every night without fail. Always the
designated driver - the
guy who held a friend's hair back when they got sick from
one drink too
many. Drugs just didn't fit in his reality.
Then what was pulling his son apart?
The next section of the report sent a shiver of cold
dread ripping through
Angel's soul.
Connor had gone to a campus psychologist, and reported a
number of
disturbing symptoms: paranoia, anxiety, severe mood
swings, violent
outbursts, nightmares, and what the doctor called
"vivid hallucinations".
Specifically, hallucinations of being attacked by
monsters.
When Angel saw that, he knew that his own worst nightmare
was coming to
pass: the complex reality-altering magick
used to construct Connor's new
life was coming unraveled.
"No," he objected to the empty air of his
office. "This can't be."
He had sold his soul in exchange for his son's happiness.
Murdered Connor in
cold blood, damning his already tainted spirit for all
eternity to assure
his only child the happy, normal life he deserved. And if
that life was
disintegrating... it had all been for nothing.
He and his friends were being slowly digested in the
belly of the beast for
nothing.
"Like Hell!" he barked and got up, throwing open
his office doors and raging
toward the main elevator. When he made a deal and kept
his end, he expected
the other party to do the same. Even if they were evil.
"Mr. Angel?" Michael called after him.
"Your
"Cancel it," Angel snapped. "I'm going
Upstairs."
Michael started at the vampire's curt declaration. What
had been in that
top-level clearance file that would require the services
of an A psychic?
Never one to miss the chance to devour a good mystery -
or a possibly juicy
piece of gossip - he dialed his own contact in Special
Surveillance. The
Psychic Secretary who knew everything about everything
regarding Wolfram &
Hart, whether officially recorded or not.
"Elaine, it's Laslow. I
need a favor. Strictly QT."
If there was something big happening on Mr. Angel's
unofficial agenda, he
planned to be ready to assist if and when he was needed.
After all, that's what assistants were for, wasn't it?
~
Marvin LaPiene was lauded by
many as one of the most talented precogs in the
business. He had been recruited by Wolfram & Hart's
L.A. Division two years
ago, straight out of high school, and had been assigned
to a special task
force created by the firm's new manager, the mysterious
Mr. Angel.
Not so mysterious to Marvin, though. He'd been a vampire
aficionado for as
long as he could remember, a fourth generation sensitive,
and the first in
his family not to pledge his talents in service of
Council - which of course, no longer existed. His father
and older sister
had both been murdered in what came to be known in
circles that understood
such things as the Great Purge of 2003.
He had known all there was to know about Angelus pretty
much since he had
learned to read, and had become a sort of expert on his
history. Especially
the century since the infamous Gypsy Curse. Marvin had
been sorely
disappointed that he would never get the chance to
publish his doctoral
thesis on the great vampire-with-a-soul.
But still, he was proud to have played some small role in
the world-
altering events of the past few months. Even more so to
have helped his
esteemed boss reunite with his equally legendary true
love, Buffy the
Vampire Slayer. Of course, all he had really done was
point Angel in the
direction of one rising demon - but that single piece of intel had led to
their reunion... and a veritable ocean of information.
Mr. Angel had been
generous enough to give him a hefty bonus for his
efforts, and issued an
open invitation to stop by his office any time.
Marvin never did, of course - who was he to disturb the
most famous force
for good in this dimension?
So when Elaine, the department's secretary, buzzed him to
say that Mr. Angel
was actually *there*, asking for him personally, he nearly
knocked his
computer off the desk in his hurry to get to the
reception area.
He found the branch manager pacing furiously back and
forth across the
elegantly appointed room, a dark scowl marking his
handsome features. Elaine
was kind enough to let Marvin know telepathically that
Angel was extremely
agitated about something she couldn't read, and had
emphasized that he
needed Marvin's help *immediately*.
The seer took a deep breath, trying to stop shaking
before he approached his
hero.
"Uh… Mr. Angel, you wanted to see me?"
Angel's head snapped up, and his uneasy expression
cleared into a neutral
mask. "Yes. I need your help on something,
Marvin," the vampire informed
him. "Can you take a walk with me?"
`Jeez,' the seer thought, compulsively pushing his
glasses farther up his
nose, `That's like God asking if I had time to take a
walk with him!'
Marvin and Elaine exchanged a confused glance as the odd
pair passed - the
most powerful man in
underling? Elaine told Marvin that she tried to read the
vampire's mind, but
predictably got nothing. The species - souled or not - was unreadable
psychically.
Darn.
"Sure. Of course, Sir."
Angel strode at a furious pace toward the far end of the
corridor and the
combination locked executive elevator. The vampire
punched in his code and
when the doors opened, waited for Marvin to step inside
before joining him.
"Silencé," he
murmured, activating the magickal anti-surveillance
shields on
the exclusive lift before turning to his companion.
"I need you to scan a
client for me."
The abrupt beginning of their impromptu meeting caught
Marvin completely off
guard. "Sir? That's... really a Field Reader's job,
isn't it? My scanning
skills are... well, Sir, they're not very good, to be
honest. Precognition's
my talent. As you already know."
His boss' dark eyes locked on him, and for the first
time, he caught a hint
of what he could swear was fear in their mahogany depths.
"This is a special
case. Strictly confidential. Only I know anything about
this client."
Marvin blinked. He'd known that there were things Mr.
Angel considered
strictly off-limits to Files & Records... but he had
always thought they
never went beyond the vampire himself. "Oh. I... of
course. I mean... I can
give it a shot, I suppose. Sure. I'll try. I mean... I
will. Scan them. If
you..." He took a deep breath to calm his stammer.
"Sir, may I ask... why
me?"
Mr. Angel took the psychic's characteristic nervous
stutter in stride, but
his expression when he responded was deeply weary.
"You did me a big favor
once, Marvin. The biggest, in fact. And you've been
discreet about it. So I
believe I can trust you to help me here."
Marvin blushed. "I'm... I'm flattered, Sir. It's
really my honor that you
think so. I'll do my very best to help you, sir."
Angel nodded, having expected as much, and handed the
tall, thin man a large
white envelope he produced from his pocket. Marvin ripped
it open and found
a folded piece of paper with some addresses and an
itinerary inside, along
with a picture of a handsome, sort of androgynous looking
guy around his own
age.
A blind man couldn't possibly miss the resemblance
between Angel and his
`client', but Marvin wisely chose not to mention it.
"This is very important, Marvin," Angel
explained quietly, "I need to know
what's going on in this young man's life. His mind.
And... what kind of
magickal forces are surrounding
him. Anything at all you can find out for me
would be a great help."
"Of course," the seer agreed without
hesitation, puffing up a little from
the confidence his hero seemed to have in him.
"When?"
"Now, if you could," Angel replied. "As
soon as possible. I'll take care of
the paperwork. If anyone asks, you're investigating
psychological anomalies
in people affected by the Convergence. My numbers are on
that paper - report
anything you find directly to me."
The elevator reached the main level, and Angel held the
door open as Marvin
stepped into the back of the lobby, his head spinning.
"I won't let you down, sir," he vowed.
The vampire nodded and gave him a tight smile. "I
know you won't. That's why
I asked you. Thanks, Marvin."
The doors slid closed, leaving one terrified and confused
- but determined -
psychic staring at them for a full minute before he
managed to compose
himself and headed out on the most important mission of
his career.
"UCLA, here I come," he mumbled to himself.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember) Chapter
Three by Ducks
~
"We could try and take another mortgage out on the
building, but... as it
is, we're barely making payments every month on the two
we already have,"
Robin concluded, pointing to the corresponding numbers
he'd put up on the
old-fashioned overhead projector. "And even if we
could get one approved, it
would still take a good deal longer to close than the 90
days the Building
Inspector will give us. Raising tuition is another
option, but we wouldn't
be able to put it into effect until next semester."
"Which is, once again, far too late," Giles
lamented, staring woefully at
the columns upon columns of red numbers in the financial
report before the
executive staff. "My personal resources,
unfortunately, are dry at this
point. My pension fund won't be liquid for several years,
although, if I pay
a penalty, I may be able to get the majority of it
released sooner."
"I can do without my salary for a while,"
bills, really, except the car..."
"Same here," Xander
agreed.
Faith shrugged. "I haven't spent any of mine since
I've been here - it's all
invested. I can sell my stocks and put in at least ten
grand."
Buffy closed her eyes and sighed for what felt like the
millionth time that
day. The list of options for saving the school just kept
getting shorter and
shorter, the cost to her family higher and higher...
leaving only one
choice. The least desirable one, in fact, after closing
altogether.
She peered at her sister Slayer. "Hold on. Did you
say *stocks*?"
"Hell, yeah," Faith confirmed, "Wood's
been turning me on to some wicked hot
blue chips. It's not much right now, but it's a Hell of a
lot more than the
nothing we've got otherwise."
"Huh," Xander
commented, succinctly expressing everyone's surprise to find
that Faith, notorious ex-con, had become an apparently
serious player on the
stock market.
"Hey, just because I never finished high school
doesn't mean I can't learn,"
the secondary Slayer grumbled.
Wood bumped her companionably. "You set the record
for getting your GED,
though," he stated, earning a half-smile of
gratitude from his lover. He
turned back to the gathered staff. "Unfortunately,
I've already sold all but
a few hundred of mine."
"Okay, so... of the estimated $600 gazillion we'll
probably need to bring
this joint up to code, all of us together can scrape up
about 50k," Xander
summed up, "We've got a few more artifacts we can
sell. And hey - those
Shepas demons offered us
fifteen thousand for Spike."
Buffy laid a dark look on her friend. "I told you,
we're not selling Spike
for demon science experiments."
"Fine," the school's caretaker said with a
shrug. "I bet you won't be so
humanitarian when we're all living in a one room walk-up
on Sunset and
sending Slayers out to... uh...panhandle for money
instead of protecting the
world from evil."
"Buffy, I hate to be the one to say this..."
The blonde held up a hand to interrupt what she already
knew her best friend
was about to suggest - the same thing that everyone had
been harping on for
months. "I know. Angel's richer than God. I've heard
it already, and I've
already said I'll think about it, okay? So let's just
move on."
"Thinking will no longer be an option once the
Building Inspector has his
way," Giles cut in. "We sympathize with your
feelings about accepting
Angel's endowment. But I'm afraid at this juncture, we
have no other
choice."
Buffy stared hard at the shiny varnish on the conference
table. "There's
always a choice, Giles."
Robin had been working diligently to stay diplomatic, but
finally lost his
temper. "Then I'd love to know what ours are! These
girls *need* this
school, Buffy. They need *guidance* -- or the world will
have hundreds of
super powered teenagers running loose. Is that a viable
option?"
The primary Slayer's gaze jerked up to him. "Over
selling our souls to the
ultimate evil? You better believe it!"
"Come on, B. That's a little overdramatic, isn't it?
The cash'll come from
Angel, not his bosses," Faith reminded her.
"And you know he'll give it with
no strings."
"There are *always* strings when it comes to the
Senior Partners, believe
me," her co-headmistress snapped. "Ask
Angel."
"As long as we don't sign anything in blood, I don't
see the big," Xander
put in.
"It's not like Angel would do anything to put us or
the girls in danger,"
federal grant in the fall."
"We'll need to get the standardized test scores up
first," Robin reminded
them, "They're below the cutoff in Calculus,
Advanced Physics, European
History, and the Humanities. The juniors and seniors
especially."
"I know," Buffy replied. "I had an
appointment with the head of the
Mentoring Program that I skipped on account of flood this
morning."
"First we have to keep the school open, then we can
consider staff changes,"
Giles commented. "We've had to let go of several
teachers already - we can
hardly justify hiring more."
"The UCLA mentors are way cheap. Like free,"
Faith explained.
Overwhelmed, Buffy simply nodded. Had she ever really
thought taking
responsibility for dozens of Slayers was a good idea? Too
bad they hadn't
taken the time to think all of this through before they
started this little
adventure. She had been putting Angel off for months now
on his generous
offers to help - based on both her pride and fear at what
taking that money
might mean. Now, once again, her heavy obligations were
stealing her free
will and forcing her to ignore her instincts.
"All right," she finally capitulated, "The
mentoring thing I can take care
of tomorrow - Dawn has an admissions interview on campus
anyway. I'll stop
by the student services office after. As for
Angel..." She took a deep
breath. "I'll talk to him. But I think we should do
this officially. Like a
real grant, with applications and reports and the whole
nine."
"Fair enough," Robin agreed. "As
administrator, I'll call his assistant and
set up a meeting. Giles and I can draw up a prospectus.
But we at least need
enough capital to fix the plumbing and the electric right
away."
"We should have enough for that, at any rate, with
the last of our personal
resources," Giles concluded, taking careful notes of
the meeting to file as
minutes. "Everyone do what you must to access the
funds, and then transfer
same to the school's business account. By wire will be
the most expedient.
Is there anything else?"
bankruptcy, homelessness, despair, Armageddon... nope.
That's it. I have a
meeting with Fred at the lab tonight about the results of
her study of the
portal readings. So we don't have anything new on the
Convergence yet."
Robin nodded. "Then we're adjourned. We should meet
again this weekend to
discuss the inspector's report and Fred's results. Thanks
everyone."
The
at the head of the table, staring blankly into space,
feeling distinctly
like she was getting repeatedly run over by a truck. Or
possibly a convoy of
them.
Faith hung back, hovering just beside her. "Don't
sweat it, B. You know
Angel will do whatever it takes to help us out."
The blonde sighed and let her head drop onto the table.
"I know. And I know
we need his help. But I don't have to like it."
The younger woman sat down. "I think you're worrying
too much. I mean...
it's Angel, right? He would never let anything happen to
you. I don't get
why this is eating you so bad."
Buffy raised her eyes to Faith's. "I have a bad
feeling about this, that's
all. It has nothing to do with Angel. With everything
that's going on with
the Convergence, though..."
"You think the school's falling apart because of you
and A's enforced
therapy thing? Come on, B. We knew that this place was a
total crapheap when
we bought it. Cosmic forces or whatever got nothing to do
with it."
"Faith, if I've learned anything from all of this,
it's that there are no
coincidences when it comes to Angel and me. Everything
that happens to us
means something. First the Heliosum,
then the vortex came this close to
swallowing half the city... Spike..." she trailed
off, suddenly exhausted
beyond belief at the weight of it all. She had been
carrying the fate of the
world on her shoulders since she was 15 years old, and
still... she didn't
think she had ever felt more crushed by her
responsibilities than she did
right now.
Which was ironic, considering the entire point of their
radical idea to
activate all potential Slayers was meant to divide the
burden equally so
that no `*One* Girl in All the World' would ever have to
feel alone again.
"Why don't you go talk to him?" Faith
suggested. "I know I always feel
better when I talk stuff through with the Woodman."
Buffy gave her a look. "I didn't realize `talk' was
a big element of your
relationship."
The younger Slayer shrugged, blushing slightly. Her
suddenly shy demeanor
touched Buffy, lightening her mood a little. Maybe she
wasn't so alone...
"Faith, are you involved in a serious, committed
adult relationship based on
trust and communication?" she teased.
Faith scowled and got up. "Hell no. He's just
cheaper than therapy," she
snapped, and clomped out of the staff room.
The remaining Slayer couldn't help but smile. Faith was
right, of course.
Talking to Angel would make her feel better. And there
was no evidence that
the school's problems had anything to do with the Convergence.
It wasn't
like the building was being sucked into another Dr. Laura
vortex, right? She
was just becoming paranoid.
Other than a few leftover time anomalies and a few...
thousand... demons,
the disasters seemed to have leveled off some after the
Spike fiasco. She
and Angel didn't have any old issues still lingering, so
maybe the worst of
it was behind them. After all, the two of them had sworn
to each other - no
more secrets. No more lies, and no more hiding anything
to protect each
other. There was nothing left unsaid between them for the
phenomena to feed
upon.
All they had to do now was learn to deal with the heavy
day-to-day stuff.
And that meant she needed to learn to swallow her pride
and accept his
help... as her partner.
Compared to all the other messes they'd survived, the
future promised to be
a snap.
~
Marvin glanced at the picture Angel had given him once
last time, and
compared it to the guy sitting alone at a picnic table a
few yards away from
where he was hiding in the trees. No doubt about it, this
was Mr. Angel's
client, Benjamin Brannen.
And there was even less doubt, seeing the kid in person,
that he wasn't just
`some client'. The eyes, the expression, the way Ben
carried himself were
far too familiar... the only possible explanation was
that he was some
descendant of the famous vampire's. Which was impossible,
of course, because
his soulless alter ego had wiped out his entire bloodline
hundreds of years
ago, and everybody knew that vampires couldn't have
children...
He had to admit, the curiosity was eating him up. Marvin
wasn't really a
gossip, or even all that nosy when it came to people's
personal business.
But, as a sort of amateur Angelus scholar, the
possibility that he had some
living blood relation walking around completely thrilled
him. How did it
happen? Who of his human family had survived to
procreate?
Marvin could easily get the answers right from his quarry
himself, and
wouldn't be doing a thing except following orders. The
only problem was, his
mind-scanning skills were flimsy at best, and the only
way he could get any
kind of read was direct physical contact. Just how the
heck was he supposed
to touch a total stranger without alarming him?
He was considering how to arrange a convenient accident
when all of a sudden
Ben got up and started marching right toward him.
"Crap!" he yelped and turned to run, but before
he could take a single step,
Ben had him by the collar and was growling in his face.
"Who are you? Why are you following me?"
Marvin knew the guy was talking, but suddenly couldn't
hear the words over
the rush of images and sensations that ripped through his
mind as their
bodies made contact.
...get out of my house...
...how could you? To your own father...
...Quartoth. A Hell
dimension...
...protect me and our baby...
...don't do this, Connor...
...you're not my mother!...
...he came up right where I was born...
...Steven, you belong with him...
...give you something real...
...Jasmine...
There were the words... there was screaming, blood, death
and despair. Fire.
A wall, thick and impenetrable surrounding his center,
but it was leaking
and danger was coming and a vortex threatened to swallow
them all... visions
of Hell and pain and an empty, empty black...
Something dangerous... something evil crouched inside
Benjamin Brannen.
Something cold and dark and hopeless. It snapped its
deadly jaws at Marvin.
The pain of it slammed into him like a ton of bricks, and
he screamed.
When he came to his senses once more, Ben was gone, and
he was lying on the
ground with blood pouring out of his nose.
"What the..." he muttered. He'd never had a
vision like that before, even
when he'd covertly scanned some of the most dangerous,
evil clients of
Wolfram & Hart. And though he couldn't get a clear
handle on exactly what
was going on in his idol's secret relative, he knew one
thing for sure:
Ben Brannen had a monster
walled up in his soul.
Marvin tipped his head back to stem the tide of blood
from his nose, and
fumbled his cell phone from his pants pocket, frantic to
get in contact with
Angel.
Something was devouring this guy from the inside out.
Something that, when
it was free, would destroy them all.
"Please! I don't care if he's in a meeting! I need
to talk to Mr. Angel
right away. It's an emergency!"
The switchboard operator reiterated her instructions that
Mr. Angel was not
to be disturbed for any reason, but before Marvin could
argue any further,
the ground beneath him began to tremor. First mildly,
then harder, and then
so fiercely that he lost his balance and fell. The cell
flew from his hands
and shattered against the nearest tree. Instantly
forgetting about it in
fear of his life, the seer scrambled to his knees,
frantically crawling for
open space. He only got a few feet away when the air
ripped open into a
black, whirlpool shaped pit that swallowed the park
around it.
Marvin LaPiene screamed, tried
to gain his feet and run for cover, but the
vortex reached out, swallowing him whole.
Then vanished. The earthquake ended, and the small park
was perfectly
peaceful once more, leaving little sign that it had just
erased the one
being who had answers to Angel's concerns about his son.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember) Chater Four by Ducks
~
Angel slammed the sorcerer into the wall once... twice...
and a third time
just for good measure before posing his question again.
"What is going wrong with the SPELL?!"
The magickian flinched,
cowering in terror. He should have known better than
to meet with the formidable manager of Wolfram & Hart
in his warded
executive offices, where his own power was useless.
But how could he have known the infamous
vampire-with-a-conscience had gone
completely insane? He was usually so... collected.
"I told you! I don't know what spell you're talking
about! I don't know any
'Connor'!" he insisted desperately as he had from
the moment the vampire had
started grilling him when he arrived. "I've never
cast anything like what
you're describing! It's impossible!"
Angel stared hard into the sorcerer's wild eyes, taking
in his scent, and
realized... he was telling the truth. This was one of the
point casters in
the ritual that altered the reality of Connor's existence,
according to the
file Angel had purged from the archives, and yet, the man
didn't remember a
single thing about it.
The mind wipe had apparently included the spell's
casters, too. Which left
him the only being on the face of the planet that knew
the truth about
Benjamin Brannen.
Angel let the man go. "I'm sorry. Thank you for
coming in."
The sudden 180° in his employer's previously murderous
demeanor froze the
sorcerer in place for a moment, until his brain finally
recalled that he had
to get the Hell out of there before he ended up in
several gory, bloodless
pieces on the expensive carpet. Without another word, he
spun and bolted,
full speed, out of the office.
Nearly plowing over Michael and Buffy, who stood in the
doorway, wide-eyed
at what they'd just witnessed. He mumbled an excuse and
kept right on going.
"Mr. Angel?" Michael queried tenuously.
The vampire clenched his fists and turned away,
struggling to get himself
under control. Shame consumed him. He had been fully
prepared to kill the
magickian, if that was what it
took...
Buffy rushed toward him, her own errand instantly
forgotten. "Honey, what
happened? Who was that?"
Angel sunk down onto the couch and buried his face in his
hands, but didn't
reply. Terrified, his lover sat beside him, resting a
trembling arm around
his shoulders. She could feel his rage and fear coursing
through him as if
they were her own. Angel's assistant stood in the doorway
for a moment,
staring at his customarily imperturbable boss coming
unglued before his
eyes, then collected himself and marched resolutely to
the wet bar, pouring
three fingers of scotch, neat, and setting the tumbler on
the table before
the vampire and his lover.
"Angel, what's going on?" Buffy asked once
more.
He took a deep breath and raised his gaze to hers. The
fear for him... the
trust and love he saw there in her beautiful eyes
shredded his heart as he
prepared to lie to her face.
"Just a case that went south. Really south - close
to Hell, in fact," he
answered, feeling as though what little purity was left
in his soul had just
become a degree darker.
Michael frowned. The argument he had heard between Angel
and the sorcerer,
and the information he received from the Upstairs
secretary, told him that
this was a far more personal matter than a simple job
gone awry. This
Connor, whoever he was, was clearly important to Mr.
Angel. Why else would
he have lost control the way he had?
Unaware of the facts, Buffy heaved a sigh of relief.
"Jeez, honey. Maybe
Michael's right - if you're this stressed out over a
case, you should think
about a vacation."
Angel glanced away from her, unable to meet her gaze as
he spun the first
lie into an intricate web of them. He downed the rest of
his drink and
forced a smile.
"You may be right," he said lightly, "
right now. But... I have to fix this first."
"You still haven't told me exactly what `this'
is," Buffy pointed out, and
flicked a brief, annoyed glare at Michael, who hovered
protectively beside
them. "Do you really need to be here?"
The assistant gave her an even, obviously fake smile.
"I believe that is for
Mr. Angel to decide."
Angel debated the matter, deciding in an instant that it
would be better for
Michael to stay - the exchange with Buffy would be less
intimate that way...
and the tension between his lover and his assistant would
distract them both
enough - hopefully - that his ruse wouldn't be exposed.
"No, it's fine," he replied, "I may need
Michael's help as well." Lying like
this - directly, instead of the status quo sin of
omission he'd learned to
live with for the past two years, made his stomach lurch
with nausea. But
Lilah had been perfectly clear
when they made their agreement so long ago:
Angel could never tell anyone about the spell to save
Connor, or it would
instantly and completely be obliterated.
The consequences of that possibility terrified and
sickened him far more
than what he had to do now. Even when his guilt
intensified a thousand-fold
as Buffy gently took his hand and squeezed, silently
promising her
unconditional support.
"Benjamin is...the son of an acquaintance. He's...
had some emotional
problems recently, and we..." he swallowed stiffly, the
burgeoning
falsehoods beginning to choke him. "We cast a spell
to erase the memories of
his difficulties. It seems that the spell is starting to
come undone.
Possibly because of the Convergence."
Michael straightened, able to smell the stench of untruth
in his employer's
story. After all, Mr. Angel had been roaring about
someone named `Connor',
not `Benjamin'... But, he reminded himself, his place was
not to judge, not
to correct, but simply to observe and support. He
remained silent.
"You changed his memories?" the Slayer asked,
"Angel, that's... don't you
think that's..."
He still couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Wrong? The thought had
crossed my mind. Unfortunately, there was no other
choice. The boy was...
unsalvageable, otherwise. Dangerous to himself and
others."
The memory of Connor's last moments of life nearly
crushed his heart into
dust. The pain... the hopelessness in his eyes. And then,
the simple
pleasure he gained from his new life.
No. There truly had been no other choice Angel could
make.
Buffy simply nodded in spite of her qualms. If Angel felt
he had done the
right thing - the only thing, probably - than it must be
true. He would have
it no other way.
"Okay. Then what do we need to do?"
Her automatic use of the word `we' shattered his heart
all over again. How
could he go on doing this to her? He closed his eyes for
a moment against
the pain before forcing himself to face her ironically
unshakable faith once
more.
"Right now, I don't think there's much we can do
except keep an eye on him.
I have some people checking on it already." He
glanced at his assistant, who
still carefully schooled his skeptical expression.
"Michael, could you
please get Marvin LaPiene on
the phone for me? He should have checked in by
now."
Michael was already on his way out to execute the task
when Angel's exact
choice of words registered in his mind. He turned back to
stare at the
couple on the couch.
"Sir, you... you assigned one of the Upstairs people
to field surveillance?"
Off Angel's dark look, he amended, "What I mean to
say is... that particular
method of tracking is... unorthodox."
"Upstairs people?" Buffy cut in.
"Psychics. My eye on the city," Angel
explained, his eyes never leaving his
assistant's. Michael was far too astute - and connected
to everything that
happened at Wolfram & Hart - to believe anything so
unusual at face value.
Angel needed to tread far more carefully where his
assistant was concerned.
"This is a very sensitive case. I needed a tracer I
could trust, and I trust
Marvin."
The young human remained unconvinced, but reminded
himself once again of his
place, and forced himself to nod. "Of course, sir.
I'll get him right away."
Buffy and Angel sat side by side on the couch, holding
hands in silence for
several minutes after Michael had gone. Angel was stymied
as to what he
might say next... already feeling the wall of untruth
hardening between
himself and the love of his life.
A wall they had sworn they would never allow to separate
them again. There
was no small measure of alarm growing inside of him - a
warning voice that
reminded him -- with the Convergence still in full swing,
what he considered
a personal problem - one he was forbidden from sharing with
her - could
easily become the world's problem if he didn't.
He knew he should tell her. He *wanted*, *needed*, more
than anything to
tell her. But with Connor's happiness hanging in the
balance, how could he?
How could he choose between his only son and the only
woman he had ever
loved? Why should he be forced to? What kind of twisted
deity would even
conceive of such a sadistic test?
"Is there anything I can do?" Buffy asked
softly, interrupting his bitter,
confused thoughts with unintended cruelty.
"Stake me," he half-joked. "No. I'll have
to take care of this myself, for
now. The case is unofficial. But I promise... if you can
help, I'll let you
know."
She nodded. "If you're sure." She tugged on the
hand wrapped around hers,
urging him to look at her, choosing once again to ignore
the sensation that
he was hiding something from her. "But if you need
me - for anything - you
know I'm here."
Angel smiled... and meant it, in spite of the ironic pain
her loyalty
caused. "I know. Thank you." He swallowed the
growing rock of regret lodged
in his throat, and changed the subject. "You said
you needed to talk to me
about something."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. I forgot, what
with your psychotic
episode and everything. I don't suppose now's the time to
launch my patented
`Quit this stupid job' lecture."
His response was merely a look that said she should know
better. Which she
did.
"Fine," she sighed. "But I'm not giving
up."
"What did you want to talk to me about, Buffy?"
he asked, officially closing
the subject of his current dilemma.
She got up and slowly began to pace the room, wringing
her hands. "Well...
you know the plumbing exploded - again - this
morning."
Remembering how Vi had burst in on their embrace with a
pang of
embarrassment, he nodded.
"Okay, so... you know how you're always saying the
school is a deathtrap?"
she went on.
"Yeah..."
She paused, her arms crossed defensively over her chest,
chewing the inside
of her lip as she stared at the floor. "Apparently,
the plumber agrees with
you. And on Friday, I think the Building Inspector's
going to throw his vote
into the ring, too." Sinking down onto the arm of
the nearest chair, she
raised her gaze a bit hesitantly to her lover's once
more. "We need help,
Angel. A lot of it. To quote Xander:
'Fast... like now.'"
Angel gave her a gentle smile, and without a word, went
to his desk and
withdrew his personal checkbook. "Will 75 thousand
tide you over?"
Buffy blinked, a little stunned that it had been so
simple. "Just like
that?"
He gave her a look. "Would you rather I asked for a
business plan?"
With a shamed pout, she replied, "Yes. Or possibly a
dangerous mission or
some indentured servitude or something."
Angel wrote out the check and approached her, tucking it
into one of her
trembling hands, then gently brushed her cheek as he
looked deeply into her
eyes, willing her not only to hear, but also to
understand and believe what
he told her.
Which was the truth, for a change.
"I admire what you're doing at the school, Buffy.
It's important work. I
consider it my honor... and frankly, my duty... to help
however I can. I
sometimes think that if there had been a place like that
for you... your
life as the Slayer might have been easier. You're a hero
to those girls, you
know. And to me. I'd give everything I have in tribute to
that."
She blushed deeply and gave him a smile. "Thank
you."
He shook his head. "You never have to. Seeing you
fulfilled is enough."
Angel kissed her softly then, and silently wished that
all of their problems
could be solved with a check, a few words of heartfelt
honesty and a kiss.
What a beautiful, simple place the world would be then...
"I love you so much," Buffy whispered as she
pulled away, framing his
magnificent face between her hands. "You have so
much to worry about
already, and still... you're always there for me."
"No matter what," he confirmed. "I
promised you I always would be, and I
meant it."
Buffy let herself sink into the velvet depths of his dark
eyes, wrapping the
love she saw burning there around herself like a blanket.
What in the
universe could ever harm her when someone so special, so
strong and
wonderful and good, loved her as much as he did? The
whole world could
crumble around her, and she and everything she loved
would endure simply
because Angel was there.
"I don't know how I ever survived without you,"
she murmured, her eyes
welling with tears of love and joy, "Or why I ever
thought I wanted to.
You're my rock, Angel. I couldn't do this without you.
Any of it."
Angel closed his eyes, her words and the emotions
reflected in them healing
over the worst of his wounds like magick.
How could he fear anything when he
had the love and friendship of this wonderful heroine
behind him?
He looked at her once more. "Yes, you could. But I'm
glad you decided not to
try."
Filled to bursting with emotion, the couple drew
together, lips meeting with
a spark so intense it was nearly physical.
In their hearts and in their blood, it was. The stress,
worries and qualms
of the long, trying day were like kindling, dry and
brittle in their hearts,
and the relief of being able to stand together, that
spark of passion and
need quickly caught, searing away the darkness, the
uncertainty, and leaving
nothing but the two of them and what they created
together.
Buffy whimpered softly as she felt that inferno blaze
through her. She
pulled Angel closer, plunged deeper into their kiss,
tangling her fingers in
his thick, soft hair, breathing his cool scent, basking
in his gentle
strength. She would gladly live in a box, if he was with
her.
His hands slid up beneath her blouse to caress her back,
enclosing her in a
circle of safety, of surety that she had never found
anywhere else, and let
him ease all of the weight of responsibility, all of the
burdens of her
Calling, away with his touch.
Angel lifted her from the chair, still devouring her
warm, delicious mouth,
and she automatically clung to him, legs wrapped around
his waist as he
turned and carried her to the conference table. After he
set her down, he
reluctantly released her enough to hit the intercom
button.
"Michael."
"Sir? I haven't been able to reach Mr. LaPiene. I've tried his cubicle, his
home and his cell, but there's no answer."
"Fine, okay," he panted softly, "Keep
trying. No interruptions for a while,
okay? Unless the world is ending in the immediate future,
no calls, no
visitors, no exceptions."
"But sir..." his assistant began to argue.
"Later, Michael. I mean it," Angel reiterated,
and clicked the intercom off,
setting it to 'no ring'.
Then swept the damned thing right off the table with a
clatter, making Buffy
laugh as he turned back to her again.
"Nothing is more important than this right
now," he averred, coming to stand
between her knees. "Possibly ever."
He leaned in to kiss her once more, fiercely this time,
his only desire now
to lose himself in this... in her... if only for a little
while. He was
forbidden the comfort of talking it through, of sharing
the burden with his
best friend, but nothing said he couldn't turn away from
it... spill the
spirit of his pain into his lover's welcoming body and
let their connection
make him strong again.
The universe couldn't keep him from this anymore, at
least.
Innocent of his dark thoughts, Buffy gave him another
sunshine smile. "Are
we about to have hot, sticky sex on this very expensive
and elegant
conference table, Mr. Angel?"
In one deft motion, he whipped off his tie and moved
toward her. "You better
believe it, Miss Summers," he growled, and lunged.
She was filled with laughter... with the simple happiness
of the kind of
playful affection she and Angel had never been able to
indulge in before.
She giggled like a little kid as he fumbled with the
complicated buttons of
her blouse - she had, after all, planned this to be a
business meeting -
sans sex. She stilled his hands and demonstrated a far
more efficient method
of getting the damn thing off - she grabbed the seams and
ripped, sending
the little buttons flying everywhere, exposing the warm
skin of her chest
and her lucky black push up bra.
Which was turning out to be very lucky indeed.
Angel grinned and leaned up to allow her to destroy his
shirt in the same
manner. Which she did with great relish and flair before
dragging him back
down on top of her. Angel laid her back flat on the
table, taking great,
greedy mouthfuls of her flesh as his hands slipped up beneath
her skirt to
eradicate her pantyhose and underwear.
Of which he found neither. Her stockings turned out to be
thigh- highs,
their only support a lacy garter belt in the same
His grin widened as he peered approvingly up at her.
"This is some outfit
for a business meeting, Miss Summers."
She gave him a sultry look. "I was prepared for
fiercer negotiations, boss."
"This is turning into porn flick dialogue, isn't
it?" he teased. "Not that I
mind."
"You talk too much," she purred, arching her
hips to remind him of his
hands' interrupted journey.
His eyes went dark with lust, and he dropped to his knees
before her,
tugging her bottom to the end of the table so he was face
to face with her
splendid assets. Grabbing her by the hips, he plunged in
to taste her...
feel her... smell her...
Buffy gave an involuntary shout at the unexpected,
blissful invasion; his
mouth, tongue and fingers claiming her in an instant,
licking, sucking, and
stroking her into near madness. She screamed his name as
the first orgasm
struck like a bolt of lightning... chanted it as the
second washed her away
like a tidal wave... and was reduced to incoherent
mewling by the third,
which shattered her into a billion quivering, helpless
pieces beneath him.
Before she had a chance to come to her senses, he was
back on his feet, his
slacks puddled on the floor
around them. He positioned himself between her
silky thighs, took hold of her hips once more, and drove
himself home with a
feral grunt.
The coupling was almost brutal... completely animal...
perfect. He slammed
into her, his head thrown back in ecstasy. She clawed his
shoulders, met his
punishing thrusts, willing her still pulsing inner
muscles to grip him, urge
him deeper... harder... faster. The delicious, carnal
sound of flesh meeting
flesh... the erotic music of their labored breath, their
frantic cries,
their defenseless moans... Reality, humanity, hearts and
souls irrelevant in
the feast of this most basic joining.
They clung together desperately as they slammed into the
wall of the last
orgasm together with twin shouts of rapturous
affirmation.
Angel collapsed atop her, utterly spent, burying his face
in her hair. Buffy
enveloped her arms around him, cradling her lover close
to her heart and
sighed contentedly.
"That's the best business meeting I've ever
had," he mumbled into her neck
between kisses. "By far."
"Mmmm..." she agreed.
"Easiest 75 grand I ever made, too."
His gaze snapped up to catch her mischievous smirk.
"Ha ha," he snickered
as he eased his weight off of her, then reached out to
help her off the table... and right back into his arms.
Everything he was
facing still waited with slathering teeth outside the
office door. Letting
Buffy go meant having to deal with it again. Being forced
to leave the
comfort of her presence...
Having to cope with what was happening to his son. And
having to do it all
alone, without her strength to shore him up.
Buffy burrowed into his embrace. "Are you sure
you're okay? I've never seen
you lose it like that before." She thought for a
moment. "Besides with
Spike."
"I'm fine," he prevaricated, brushing a kiss to
the top of her head before
forcing himself to step away and get dressed, taking a
spare shirt out of
the closet. "You have a rat trap to repair. Have
Michael get you that list
of contractors before you leave."
Buffy got herself together - minus her blouse - and
tugged on her light
jacket, buttoning it all the way up to cover herself.
"Yes, sir. I'm on it sir," she saluted.
Angel narrowed his eyes at her. "Get out of here and
let me get some work
done, woman. I'll call you tonight."
She went to the door, pausing to blow him a kiss and say,
"I love you,
Angel. Thanks. And don't forget what I said."
"I love you too," he whispered to the doors as
they closed behind her, then
turned back to his desk to click on the intercom once
more. "Michael, could
you come in here now, please?"
He took one last look out at the skyline, hoping it could
give him the
strength to deal with the unraveling of everything he had
spent the last two
years working for. Without Buffy by his side, he would
need it.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember) Chater Four by Ducks
~
Angel slammed the sorcerer into the wall once... twice...
and a third time
just for good measure before posing his question again.
"What is going wrong with the SPELL?!"
The magickian flinched,
cowering in terror. He should have known better than
to meet with the formidable manager of Wolfram & Hart
in his warded
executive offices, where his own power was useless.
But how could he have known the infamous
vampire-with-a-conscience had gone
completely insane? He was usually so... collected.
"I told you! I don't know what spell you're talking
about! I don't know any
'Connor'!" he insisted desperately as he had from
the moment the vampire had
started grilling him when he arrived. "I've never
cast anything like what
you're describing! It's impossible!"
Angel stared hard into the sorcerer's wild eyes, taking
in his scent, and
realized... he was telling the truth. This was one of the
point casters in
the ritual that altered the reality of Connor's
existence, according to the
file Angel had purged from the archives, and yet, the man
didn't remember a
single thing about it.
The mind wipe had apparently included the spell's
casters, too. Which left
him the only being on the face of the planet that knew
the truth about
Benjamin Brannen.
Angel let the man go. "I'm sorry. Thank you for
coming in."
The sudden 180° in his employer's previously murderous
demeanor froze the
sorcerer in place for a moment, until his brain finally
recalled that he had
to get the Hell out of there before he ended up in
several gory, bloodless
pieces on the expensive carpet. Without another word, he
spun and bolted,
full speed, out of the office.
Nearly plowing over Michael and Buffy, who stood in the
doorway, wide-eyed
at what they'd just witnessed. He mumbled an excuse and
kept right on going.
"Mr. Angel?" Michael queried tenuously.
The vampire clenched his fists and turned away,
struggling to get himself
under control. Shame consumed him. He had been fully
prepared to kill the
magickian, if that was what it
took...
Buffy rushed toward him, her own errand instantly
forgotten. "Honey, what
happened? Who was that?"
Angel sunk down onto the couch and buried his face in his
hands, but didn't
reply. Terrified, his lover sat beside him, resting a
trembling arm around
his shoulders. She could feel his rage and fear coursing
through him as if
they were her own. Angel's assistant stood in the doorway
for a moment,
staring at his customarily imperturbable boss coming
unglued before his
eyes, then collected himself and marched resolutely to
the wet bar, pouring
three fingers of scotch, neat, and setting the tumbler on
the table before
the vampire and his lover.
"Angel, what's going on?" Buffy asked once
more.
He took a deep breath and raised his gaze to hers. The
fear for him... the
trust and love he saw there in her beautiful eyes
shredded his heart as he
prepared to lie to her face.
"Just a case that went south. Really south - close
to Hell, in fact," he
answered, feeling as though what little purity was left
in his soul had just
become a degree darker.
Michael frowned. The argument he had heard between Angel
and the sorcerer,
and the information he received from the Upstairs
secretary, told him that
this was a far more personal matter than a simple job
gone awry. This
Connor, whoever he was, was clearly important to Mr.
Angel. Why else would
he have lost control the way he had?
Unaware of the facts, Buffy heaved a sigh of relief.
"Jeez, honey. Maybe
Michael's right - if you're this stressed out over a
case, you should think
about a vacation."
Angel glanced away from her, unable to meet her gaze as
he spun the first
lie into an intricate web of them. He downed the rest of
his drink and
forced a smile.
"You may be right," he said lightly, "
right now. But... I have to fix this first."
"You still haven't told me exactly what `this'
is," Buffy pointed out, and
flicked a brief, annoyed glare at Michael, who hovered
protectively beside
them. "Do you really need to be here?"
The assistant gave her an even, obviously fake smile.
"I believe that is for
Mr. Angel to decide."
Angel debated the matter, deciding in an instant that it
would be better for
Michael to stay - the exchange with Buffy would be less
intimate that way...
and the tension between his lover and his assistant would
distract them both
enough - hopefully - that his ruse wouldn't be exposed.
"No, it's fine," he replied, "I may need
Michael's help as well." Lying like
this - directly, instead of the status quo sin of
omission he'd learned to
live with for the past two years, made his stomach lurch
with nausea. But
Lilah had been perfectly clear
when they made their agreement so long ago:
Angel could never tell anyone about the spell to save
Connor, or it would
instantly and completely be obliterated.
The consequences of that possibility terrified and
sickened him far more
than what he had to do now. Even when his guilt
intensified a thousand-fold
as Buffy gently took his hand and squeezed, silently
promising her
unconditional support.
"Benjamin is...the son of an acquaintance. He's...
had some emotional
problems recently, and we..." he swallowed stiffly,
the burgeoning
falsehoods beginning to choke him. "We cast a spell
to erase the memories of
his difficulties. It seems that the spell is starting to
come undone.
Possibly because of the Convergence."
Michael straightened, able to smell the stench of untruth
in his employer's
story. After all, Mr. Angel had been roaring about
someone named `Connor',
not `Benjamin'... But, he reminded himself, his place was
not to judge, not
to correct, but simply to observe and support. He
remained silent.
"You changed his memories?" the Slayer asked,
"Angel, that's... don't you
think that's..."
He still couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Wrong? The thought had
crossed my mind. Unfortunately, there was no other
choice. The boy was...
unsalvageable, otherwise. Dangerous to himself and
others."
The memory of Connor's last moments of life nearly
crushed his heart into
dust. The pain... the hopelessness in his eyes. And then,
the simple
pleasure he gained from his new life.
No. There truly had been no other choice Angel could
make.
Buffy simply nodded in spite of her qualms. If Angel felt
he had done the
right thing - the only thing, probably - than it must be
true. He would have
it no other way.
"Okay. Then what do we need to do?"
Her automatic use of the word `we' shattered his heart
all over again. How
could he go on doing this to her? He closed his eyes for
a moment against
the pain before forcing himself to face her ironically
unshakable faith once
more.
"Right now, I don't think there's much we can do
except keep an eye on him.
I have some people checking on it already." He
glanced at his assistant, who
still carefully schooled his skeptical expression.
"Michael, could you
please get Marvin LaPiene on
the phone for me? He should have checked in by
now."
Michael was already on his way out to execute the task
when Angel's exact
choice of words registered in his mind. He turned back to
stare at the
couple on the couch.
"Sir, you... you assigned one of the Upstairs people
to field surveillance?"
Off Angel's dark look, he amended, "What I mean to
say is... that particular
method of tracking is... unorthodox."
"Upstairs people?" Buffy cut in.
"Psychics. My eye on the city," Angel
explained, his eyes never leaving his
assistant's. Michael was far too astute - and connected
to everything that
happened at Wolfram & Hart - to believe anything so
unusual at face value.
Angel needed to tread far more carefully where his
assistant was concerned.
"This is a very sensitive case. I needed a tracer I
could trust, and I trust
Marvin."
The young human remained unconvinced, but reminded
himself once again of his
place, and forced himself to nod. "Of course, sir.
I'll get him right away."
Buffy and Angel sat side by side on the couch, holding
hands in silence for
several minutes after Michael had gone. Angel was stymied
as to what he
might say next... already feeling the wall of untruth
hardening between
himself and the love of his life.
A wall they had sworn they would never allow to separate
them again. There
was no small measure of alarm growing inside of him - a
warning voice that
reminded him -- with the Convergence still in full swing,
what he considered
a personal problem - one he was forbidden from sharing
with her - could
easily become the world's problem if he didn't.
He knew he should tell her. He *wanted*, *needed*, more
than anything to
tell her. But with Connor's happiness hanging in the
balance, how could he?
How could he choose between his only son and the only
woman he had ever
loved? Why should he be forced to? What kind of twisted
deity would even
conceive of such a sadistic test?
"Is there anything I can do?" Buffy asked
softly, interrupting his bitter,
confused thoughts with unintended cruelty.
"Stake me," he half-joked. "No. I'll have
to take care of this myself, for
now. The case is unofficial. But I promise... if you can
help, I'll let you
know."
She nodded. "If you're sure." She tugged on the
hand wrapped around hers,
urging him to look at her, choosing once again to ignore
the sensation that
he was hiding something from her. "But if you need
me - for anything - you
know I'm here."
Angel smiled... and meant it, in spite of the ironic pain
her loyalty
caused. "I know. Thank you." He swallowed the
growing rock of regret lodged
in his throat, and changed the subject. "You said
you needed to talk to me
about something."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. I forgot, what
with your psychotic
episode and everything. I don't suppose now's the time to
launch my patented
`Quit this stupid job' lecture."
His response was merely a look that said she should know
better. Which she
did.
"Fine," she sighed. "But I'm not giving
up."
"What did you want to talk to me about, Buffy?"
he asked, officially closing
the subject of his current dilemma.
She got up and slowly began to pace the room, wringing
her hands. "Well...
you know the plumbing exploded - again - this
morning."
Remembering how Vi had burst in on their embrace with a
pang of
embarrassment, he nodded.
"Okay, so... you know how you're always saying the
school is a deathtrap?"
she went on.
"Yeah..."
She paused, her arms crossed defensively over her chest,
chewing the inside
of her lip as she stared at the floor. "Apparently,
the plumber agrees with
you. And on Friday, I think the Building Inspector's
going to throw his vote
into the ring, too." Sinking down onto the arm of
the nearest chair, she
raised her gaze a bit hesitantly to her lover's once
more. "We need help,
Angel. A lot of it. To quote Xander:
'Fast... like now.'"
Angel gave her a gentle smile, and without a word, went
to his desk and
withdrew his personal checkbook. "Will 75 thousand
tide you over?"
Buffy blinked, a little stunned that it had been so
simple. "Just like
that?"
He gave her a look. "Would you rather I asked for a
business plan?"
With a shamed pout, she replied, "Yes. Or possibly a
dangerous mission or
some indentured servitude or something."
Angel wrote out the check and approached her, tucking it
into one of her
trembling hands, then gently brushed her cheek as he
looked deeply into her
eyes, willing her not only to hear, but also to
understand and believe what
he told her.
Which was the truth, for a change.
"I admire what you're doing at the school, Buffy.
It's important work. I
consider it my honor... and frankly, my duty... to help
however I can. I
sometimes think that if there had been a place like that
for you... your
life as the Slayer might have been easier. You're a hero
to those girls, you
know. And to me. I'd give everything I have in tribute to
that."
She blushed deeply and gave him a smile. "Thank
you."
He shook his head. "You never have to. Seeing you
fulfilled is enough."
Angel kissed her softly then, and silently wished that
all of their problems
could be solved with a check, a few words of heartfelt
honesty and a kiss.
What a beautiful, simple place the world would be then...
"I love you so much," Buffy whispered as she
pulled away, framing his
magnificent face between her hands. "You have so
much to worry about
already, and still... you're always there for me."
"No matter what," he confirmed. "I
promised you I always would be, and I
meant it."
Buffy let herself sink into the velvet depths of his dark
eyes, wrapping the
love she saw burning there around herself like a blanket.
What in the
universe could ever harm her when someone so special, so
strong and
wonderful and good, loved her as much as he did? The
whole world could
crumble around her, and she and everything she loved
would endure simply
because Angel was there.
"I don't know how I ever survived without you,"
she murmured, her eyes
welling with tears of love and joy, "Or why I ever
thought I wanted to.
You're my rock, Angel. I couldn't do this without you.
Any of it."
Angel closed his eyes, her words and the emotions
reflected in them healing
over the worst of his wounds like magick.
How could he fear anything when he
had the love and friendship of this wonderful heroine
behind him?
He looked at her once more. "Yes, you could. But I'm
glad you decided not to
try."
Filled to bursting with emotion, the couple drew
together, lips meeting with
a spark so intense it was nearly physical.
In their hearts and in their blood, it was. The stress,
worries and qualms
of the long, trying day were like kindling, dry and
brittle in their hearts,
and the relief of being able to stand together, that
spark of passion and
need quickly caught, searing away the darkness, the
uncertainty, and leaving
nothing but the two of them and what they created
together.
Buffy whimpered softly as she felt that inferno blaze
through her. She
pulled Angel closer, plunged deeper into their kiss,
tangling her fingers in
his thick, soft hair, breathing his cool scent, basking
in his gentle
strength. She would gladly live in a box, if he was with
her.
His hands slid up beneath her blouse to caress her back,
enclosing her in a
circle of safety, of surety that she had never found
anywhere else, and let
him ease all of the weight of responsibility, all of the
burdens of her
Calling, away with his touch.
Angel lifted her from the chair, still devouring her
warm, delicious mouth,
and she automatically clung to him, legs wrapped around
his waist as he
turned and carried her to the conference table. After he
set her down, he
reluctantly released her enough to hit the intercom
button.
"Michael."
"Sir? I haven't been able to reach Mr. LaPiene. I've tried his cubicle, his
home and his cell, but there's no answer."
"Fine, okay," he panted softly, "Keep
trying. No interruptions for a while,
okay? Unless the world is ending in the immediate future,
no calls, no
visitors, no exceptions."
"But sir..." his assistant began to argue.
"Later, Michael. I mean it," Angel reiterated,
and clicked the intercom off,
setting it to 'no ring'.
Then swept the damned thing right off the table with a
clatter, making Buffy
laugh as he turned back to her again.
"Nothing is more important than this right
now," he averred, coming to stand
between her knees. "Possibly ever."
He leaned in to kiss her once more, fiercely this time,
his only desire now
to lose himself in this... in her... if only for a little
while. He was
forbidden the comfort of talking it through, of sharing
the burden with his
best friend, but nothing said he couldn't turn away from
it... spill the
spirit of his pain into his lover's welcoming body and
let their connection
make him strong again.
The universe couldn't keep him from this anymore, at
least.
Innocent of his dark thoughts, Buffy gave him another
sunshine smile. "Are
we about to have hot, sticky sex on this very expensive
and elegant
conference table, Mr. Angel?"
In one deft motion, he whipped off his tie and moved toward
her. "You better
believe it, Miss Summers," he growled, and lunged.
She was filled with laughter... with the simple happiness
of the kind of
playful affection she and Angel had never been able to
indulge in before.
She giggled like a little kid as he fumbled with the
complicated buttons of
her blouse - she had, after all, planned this to be a
business meeting -
sans sex. She stilled his hands and demonstrated a far
more efficient method
of getting the damn thing off - she grabbed the seams and
ripped, sending
the little buttons flying everywhere, exposing the warm
skin of her chest
and her lucky black push up bra.
Which was turning out to be very lucky indeed.
Angel grinned and leaned up to allow her to destroy his
shirt in the same
manner. Which she did with great relish and flair before
dragging him back
down on top of her. Angel laid her back flat on the
table, taking great,
greedy mouthfuls of her flesh as his hands slipped up
beneath her skirt to
eradicate her pantyhose and underwear.
Of which he found neither. Her stockings turned out to be
thigh- highs,
their only support a lacy garter belt in the same
His grin widened as he peered approvingly up at her.
"This is some outfit
for a business meeting, Miss Summers."
She gave him a sultry look. "I was prepared for
fiercer negotiations, boss."
"This is turning into porn flick dialogue, isn't
it?" he teased. "Not that I
mind."
"You talk too much," she purred, arching her
hips to remind him of his
hands' interrupted journey.
His eyes went dark with lust, and he dropped to his knees
before her,
tugging her bottom to the end of the table so he was face
to face with her
splendid assets. Grabbing her by the hips, he plunged in
to taste her...
feel her... smell her...
Buffy gave an involuntary shout at the unexpected,
blissful invasion; his
mouth, tongue and fingers claiming her in an instant,
licking, sucking, and
stroking her into near madness. She screamed his name as
the first orgasm
struck like a bolt of lightning... chanted it as the
second washed her away
like a tidal wave... and was reduced to incoherent
mewling by the third,
which shattered her into a billion quivering, helpless
pieces beneath him.
Before she had a chance to come to her senses, he was
back on his feet, his
slacks puddled on the floor
around them. He positioned himself between her
silky thighs, took hold of her hips once more, and drove
himself home with a
feral grunt.
The coupling was almost brutal... completely animal...
perfect. He slammed
into her, his head thrown back in ecstasy. She clawed his
shoulders, met his
punishing thrusts, willing her still pulsing inner
muscles to grip him, urge
him deeper... harder... faster. The delicious, carnal sound
of flesh meeting
flesh... the erotic music of their labored breath, their
frantic cries,
their defenseless moans... Reality, humanity, hearts and
souls irrelevant in
the feast of this most basic joining.
They clung together desperately as they slammed into the
wall of the last
orgasm together with twin shouts of rapturous
affirmation.
Angel collapsed atop her, utterly spent, burying his face
in her hair. Buffy
enveloped her arms around him, cradling her lover close
to her heart and
sighed contentedly.
"That's the best business meeting I've ever
had," he mumbled into her neck
between kisses. "By far."
"Mmmm..." she agreed.
"Easiest 75 grand I ever made, too."
His gaze snapped up to catch her mischievous smirk.
"Ha ha," he snickered
as he eased his weight off of her, then reached out to
help her off the table... and right back into his arms.
Everything he was
facing still waited with slathering teeth outside the
office door. Letting
Buffy go meant having to deal with it again. Being forced
to leave the
comfort of her presence...
Having to cope with what was happening to his son. And
having to do it all
alone, without her strength to shore him up.
Buffy burrowed into his embrace. "Are you sure
you're okay? I've never seen
you lose it like that before." She thought for a
moment. "Besides with
Spike."
"I'm fine," he prevaricated, brushing a kiss to
the top of her head before
forcing himself to step away and get dressed, taking a
spare shirt out of
the closet. "You have a rat trap to repair. Have
Michael get you that list
of contractors before you leave."
Buffy got herself together - minus her blouse - and
tugged on her light
jacket, buttoning it all the way up to cover herself.
"Yes, sir. I'm on it sir," she saluted.
Angel narrowed his eyes at her. "Get out of here and
let me get some work
done, woman. I'll call you tonight."
She went to the door, pausing to blow him a kiss and say,
"I love you,
Angel. Thanks. And don't forget what I said."
"I love you too," he whispered to the doors as
they closed behind her, then
turned back to his desk to click on the intercom once
more. "Michael, could
you come in here now, please?"
He took one last look out at the skyline, hoping it could
give him the
strength to deal with the unraveling of everything he had
spent the last two
years working for. Without Buffy by his side, he would
need it.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember) Chater Four by Ducks
~
Angel slammed the sorcerer into the wall once... twice...
and a third time
just for good measure before posing his question again.
"What is going wrong with the SPELL?!"
The magickian flinched,
cowering in terror. He should have known better than
to meet with the formidable manager of Wolfram & Hart
in his warded
executive offices, where his own power was useless.
But how could he have known the infamous
vampire-with-a-conscience had gone
completely insane? He was usually so... collected.
"I told you! I don't know what spell you're talking
about! I don't know any
'Connor'!" he insisted desperately as he had from
the moment the vampire had
started grilling him when he arrived. "I've never
cast anything like what
you're describing! It's impossible!"
Angel stared hard into the sorcerer's wild eyes, taking
in his scent, and
realized... he was telling the truth. This was one of the
point casters in
the ritual that altered the reality of Connor's
existence, according to the
file Angel had purged from the archives, and yet, the man
didn't remember a
single thing about it.
The mind wipe had apparently included the spell's
casters, too. Which left
him the only being on the face of the planet that knew
the truth about
Benjamin Brannen.
Angel let the man go. "I'm sorry. Thank you for
coming in."
The sudden 180° in his employer's previously murderous
demeanor froze the
sorcerer in place for a moment, until his brain finally
recalled that he had
to get the Hell out of there before he ended up in
several gory, bloodless
pieces on the expensive carpet. Without another word, he
spun and bolted,
full speed, out of the office.
Nearly plowing over Michael and Buffy, who stood in the
doorway, wide-eyed
at what they'd just witnessed. He mumbled an excuse and
kept right on going.
"Mr. Angel?" Michael queried tenuously.
The vampire clenched his fists and turned away,
struggling to get himself
under control. Shame consumed him. He had been fully
prepared to kill the
magickian, if that was what it
took...
Buffy rushed toward him, her own errand instantly
forgotten. "Honey, what
happened? Who was that?"
Angel sunk down onto the couch and buried his face in his
hands, but didn't
reply. Terrified, his lover sat beside him, resting a
trembling arm around
his shoulders. She could feel his rage and fear coursing
through him as if
they were her own. Angel's assistant stood in the doorway
for a moment,
staring at his customarily imperturbable boss coming
unglued before his
eyes, then collected himself and marched resolutely to
the wet bar, pouring
three fingers of scotch, neat, and setting the tumbler on
the table before
the vampire and his lover.
"Angel, what's going on?" Buffy asked once
more.
He took a deep breath and raised his gaze to hers. The
fear for him... the
trust and love he saw there in her beautiful eyes
shredded his heart as he
prepared to lie to her face.
"Just a case that went south. Really south - close
to Hell, in fact," he
answered, feeling as though what little purity was left
in his soul had just
become a degree darker.
Michael frowned. The argument he had heard between Angel
and the sorcerer,
and the information he received from the Upstairs
secretary, told him that
this was a far more personal matter than a simple job
gone awry. This
Connor, whoever he was, was clearly important to Mr.
Angel. Why else would
he have lost control the way he had?
Unaware of the facts, Buffy heaved a sigh of relief.
"Jeez, honey. Maybe
Michael's right - if you're this stressed out over a
case, you should think
about a vacation."
Angel glanced away from her, unable to meet her gaze as
he spun the first
lie into an intricate web of them. He downed the rest of
his drink and
forced a smile.
"You may be right," he said lightly, "
right now. But... I have to fix this first."
"You still haven't told me exactly what `this'
is," Buffy pointed out, and
flicked a brief, annoyed glare at Michael, who hovered
protectively beside
them. "Do you really need to be here?"
The assistant gave her an even, obviously fake smile.
"I believe that is for
Mr. Angel to decide."
Angel debated the matter, deciding in an instant that it
would be better for
Michael to stay - the exchange with Buffy would be less
intimate that way...
and the tension between his lover and his assistant would
distract them both
enough - hopefully - that his ruse wouldn't be exposed.
"No, it's fine," he replied, "I may need
Michael's help as well." Lying like
this - directly, instead of the status quo sin of omission
he'd learned to
live with for the past two years, made his stomach lurch
with nausea. But
Lilah had been perfectly clear
when they made their agreement so long ago:
Angel could never tell anyone about the spell to save
Connor, or it would
instantly and completely be obliterated.
The consequences of that possibility terrified and
sickened him far more
than what he had to do now. Even when his guilt
intensified a thousand-fold
as Buffy gently took his hand and squeezed, silently
promising her
unconditional support.
"Benjamin is...the son of an acquaintance. He's...
had some emotional
problems recently, and we..." he swallowed stiffly,
the burgeoning
falsehoods beginning to choke him. "We cast a spell
to erase the memories of
his difficulties. It seems that the spell is starting to
come undone.
Possibly because of the Convergence."
Michael straightened, able to smell the stench of untruth
in his employer's
story. After all, Mr. Angel had been roaring about
someone named `Connor',
not `Benjamin'... But, he reminded himself, his place was
not to judge, not
to correct, but simply to observe and support. He
remained silent.
"You changed his memories?" the Slayer asked,
"Angel, that's... don't you
think that's..."
He still couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Wrong? The thought had
crossed my mind. Unfortunately, there was no other
choice. The boy was...
unsalvageable, otherwise. Dangerous to himself and
others."
The memory of Connor's last moments of life nearly
crushed his heart into
dust. The pain... the hopelessness in his eyes. And then,
the simple
pleasure he gained from his new life.
No. There truly had been no other choice Angel could
make.
Buffy simply nodded in spite of her qualms. If Angel felt
he had done the
right thing - the only thing, probably - than it must be
true. He would have
it no other way.
"Okay. Then what do we need to do?"
Her automatic use of the word `we' shattered his heart
all over again. How
could he go on doing this to her? He closed his eyes for
a moment against
the pain before forcing himself to face her ironically
unshakable faith once
more.
"Right now, I don't think there's much we can do
except keep an eye on him.
I have some people checking on it already." He
glanced at his assistant, who
still carefully schooled his skeptical expression.
"Michael, could you
please get Marvin LaPiene on
the phone for me? He should have checked in by
now."
Michael was already on his way out to execute the task
when Angel's exact
choice of words registered in his mind. He turned back to
stare at the
couple on the couch.
"Sir, you... you assigned one of the Upstairs people
to field surveillance?"
Off Angel's dark look, he amended, "What I mean to
say is... that particular
method of tracking is... unorthodox."
"Upstairs people?" Buffy cut in.
"Psychics. My eye on the city," Angel
explained, his eyes never leaving his
assistant's. Michael was far too astute - and connected
to everything that
happened at Wolfram & Hart - to believe anything so
unusual at face value.
Angel needed to tread far more carefully where his
assistant was concerned.
"This is a very sensitive case. I needed a tracer I
could trust, and I trust
Marvin."
The young human remained unconvinced, but reminded
himself once again of his
place, and forced himself to nod. "Of course, sir.
I'll get him right away."
Buffy and Angel sat side by side on the couch, holding
hands in silence for
several minutes after Michael had gone. Angel was stymied
as to what he
might say next... already feeling the wall of untruth
hardening between
himself and the love of his life.
A wall they had sworn they would never allow to separate
them again. There
was no small measure of alarm growing inside of him - a
warning voice that
reminded him -- with the Convergence still in full swing,
what he considered
a personal problem - one he was forbidden from sharing
with her - could
easily become the world's problem if he didn't.
He knew he should tell her. He *wanted*, *needed*, more
than anything to
tell her. But with Connor's happiness hanging in the
balance, how could he?
How could he choose between his only son and the only
woman he had ever
loved? Why should he be forced to? What kind of twisted
deity would even
conceive of such a sadistic test?
"Is there anything I can do?" Buffy asked
softly, interrupting his bitter,
confused thoughts with unintended cruelty.
"Stake me," he half-joked. "No. I'll have
to take care of this myself, for
now. The case is unofficial. But I promise... if you can
help, I'll let you
know."
She nodded. "If you're sure." She tugged on the
hand wrapped around hers,
urging him to look at her, choosing once again to ignore
the sensation that
he was hiding something from her. "But if you need
me - for anything - you
know I'm here."
Angel smiled... and meant it, in spite of the ironic pain
her loyalty
caused. "I know. Thank you." He swallowed the
growing rock of regret lodged
in his throat, and changed the subject. "You said
you needed to talk to me
about something."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. I forgot, what
with your psychotic
episode and everything. I don't suppose now's the time to
launch my patented
`Quit this stupid job' lecture."
His response was merely a look that said she should know
better. Which she
did.
"Fine," she sighed. "But I'm not giving
up."
"What did you want to talk to me about, Buffy?"
he asked, officially closing
the subject of his current dilemma.
She got up and slowly began to pace the room, wringing
her hands. "Well...
you know the plumbing exploded - again - this
morning."
Remembering how Vi had burst in on their embrace with a
pang of
embarrassment, he nodded.
"Okay, so... you know how you're always saying the
school is a deathtrap?"
she went on.
"Yeah..."
She paused, her arms crossed defensively over her chest,
chewing the inside
of her lip as she stared at the floor. "Apparently,
the plumber agrees with
you. And on Friday, I think the Building Inspector's going
to throw his vote
into the ring, too." Sinking down onto the arm of
the nearest chair, she
raised her gaze a bit hesitantly to her lover's once
more. "We need help,
Angel. A lot of it. To quote Xander:
'Fast... like now.'"
Angel gave her a gentle smile, and without a word, went
to his desk and
withdrew his personal checkbook. "Will 75 thousand
tide you over?"
Buffy blinked, a little stunned that it had been so
simple. "Just like
that?"
He gave her a look. "Would you rather I asked for a business
plan?"
With a shamed pout, she replied, "Yes. Or possibly a
dangerous mission or
some indentured servitude or something."
Angel wrote out the check and approached her, tucking it
into one of her
trembling hands, then gently brushed her cheek as he
looked deeply into her
eyes, willing her not only to hear, but also to
understand and believe what
he told her.
Which was the truth, for a change.
"I admire what you're doing at the school, Buffy.
It's important work. I
consider it my honor... and frankly, my duty... to help
however I can. I
sometimes think that if there had been a place like that
for you... your
life as the Slayer might have been easier. You're a hero
to those girls, you
know. And to me. I'd give everything I have in tribute to
that."
She blushed deeply and gave him a smile. "Thank
you."
He shook his head. "You never have to. Seeing you
fulfilled is enough."
Angel kissed her softly then, and silently wished that
all of their problems
could be solved with a check, a few words of heartfelt
honesty and a kiss.
What a beautiful, simple place the world would be then...
"I love you so much," Buffy whispered as she
pulled away, framing his
magnificent face between her hands. "You have so
much to worry about
already, and still... you're always there for me."
"No matter what," he confirmed. "I
promised you I always would be, and I
meant it."
Buffy let herself sink into the velvet depths of his dark
eyes, wrapping the
love she saw burning there around herself like a blanket.
What in the
universe could ever harm her when someone so special, so
strong and
wonderful and good, loved her as much as he did? The
whole world could
crumble around her, and she and everything she loved
would endure simply
because Angel was there.
"I don't know how I ever survived without you,"
she murmured, her eyes
welling with tears of love and joy, "Or why I ever
thought I wanted to.
You're my rock, Angel. I couldn't do this without you.
Any of it."
Angel closed his eyes, her words and the emotions
reflected in them healing
over the worst of his wounds like magick.
How could he fear anything when he
had the love and friendship of this wonderful heroine
behind him?
He looked at her once more. "Yes, you could. But I'm
glad you decided not to
try."
Filled to bursting with emotion, the couple drew
together, lips meeting with
a spark so intense it was nearly physical.
In their hearts and in their blood, it was. The stress,
worries and qualms
of the long, trying day were like kindling, dry and
brittle in their hearts,
and the relief of being able to stand together, that
spark of passion and
need quickly caught, searing away the darkness, the
uncertainty, and leaving
nothing but the two of them and what they created
together.
Buffy whimpered softly as she felt that inferno blaze
through her. She
pulled Angel closer, plunged deeper into their kiss,
tangling her fingers in
his thick, soft hair, breathing his cool scent, basking
in his gentle
strength. She would gladly live in a box, if he was with
her.
His hands slid up beneath her blouse to caress her back,
enclosing her in a
circle of safety, of surety that she had never found
anywhere else, and let
him ease all of the weight of responsibility, all of the
burdens of her
Calling, away with his touch.
Angel lifted her from the chair, still devouring her
warm, delicious mouth,
and she automatically clung to him, legs wrapped around
his waist as he
turned and carried her to the conference table. After he
set her down, he
reluctantly released her enough to hit the intercom
button.
"Michael."
"Sir? I haven't been able to reach Mr. LaPiene. I've tried his cubicle, his
home and his cell, but there's no answer."
"Fine, okay," he panted softly, "Keep trying.
No interruptions for a while,
okay? Unless the world is ending in the immediate future,
no calls, no
visitors, no exceptions."
"But sir..." his assistant began to argue.
"Later, Michael. I mean it," Angel reiterated,
and clicked the intercom off,
setting it to 'no ring'.
Then swept the damned thing right off the table with a
clatter, making Buffy
laugh as he turned back to her again.
"Nothing is more important than this right
now," he averred, coming to stand
between her knees. "Possibly ever."
He leaned in to kiss her once more, fiercely this time,
his only desire now
to lose himself in this... in her... if only for a little
while. He was
forbidden the comfort of talking it through, of sharing
the burden with his
best friend, but nothing said he couldn't turn away from
it... spill the
spirit of his pain into his lover's welcoming body and
let their connection
make him strong again.
The universe couldn't keep him from this anymore, at
least.
Innocent of his dark thoughts, Buffy gave him another
sunshine smile. "Are
we about to have hot, sticky sex on this very expensive
and elegant
conference table, Mr. Angel?"
In one deft motion, he whipped off his tie and moved
toward her. "You better
believe it, Miss Summers," he growled, and lunged.
She was filled with laughter... with the simple happiness
of the kind of
playful affection she and Angel had never been able to
indulge in before.
She giggled like a little kid as he fumbled with the
complicated buttons of
her blouse - she had, after all, planned this to be a
business meeting -
sans sex. She stilled his hands and demonstrated a far
more efficient method
of getting the damn thing off - she grabbed the seams and
ripped, sending
the little buttons flying everywhere, exposing the warm
skin of her chest
and her lucky black push up bra.
Which was turning out to be very lucky indeed.
Angel grinned and leaned up to allow her to destroy his
shirt in the same
manner. Which she did with great relish and flair before
dragging him back
down on top of her. Angel laid her back flat on the
table, taking great,
greedy mouthfuls of her flesh as his hands slipped up
beneath her skirt to
eradicate her pantyhose and underwear.
Of which he found neither. Her stockings turned out to be
thigh- highs,
their only support a lacy garter belt in the same
His grin widened as he peered approvingly up at her.
"This is some outfit
for a business meeting, Miss Summers."
She gave him a sultry look. "I was prepared for
fiercer negotiations, boss."
"This is turning into porn flick dialogue, isn't
it?" he teased. "Not that I
mind."
"You talk too much," she purred, arching her
hips to remind him of his
hands' interrupted journey.
His eyes went dark with lust, and he dropped to his knees
before her,
tugging her bottom to the end of the table so he was face
to face with her
splendid assets. Grabbing her by the hips, he plunged in
to taste her...
feel her... smell her...
Buffy gave an involuntary shout at the unexpected,
blissful invasion; his
mouth, tongue and fingers claiming her in an instant,
licking, sucking, and
stroking her into near madness. She screamed his name as
the first orgasm
struck like a bolt of lightning... chanted it as the
second washed her away
like a tidal wave... and was reduced to incoherent
mewling by the third,
which shattered her into a billion quivering, helpless
pieces beneath him.
Before she had a chance to come to her senses, he was
back on his feet, his
slacks puddled on the floor
around them. He positioned himself between her
silky thighs, took hold of her hips once more, and drove
himself home with a
feral grunt.
The coupling was almost brutal... completely animal...
perfect. He slammed
into her, his head thrown back in ecstasy. She clawed his
shoulders, met his
punishing thrusts, willing her still pulsing inner
muscles to grip him, urge
him deeper... harder... faster. The delicious, carnal
sound of flesh meeting
flesh... the erotic music of their labored breath, their
frantic cries,
their defenseless moans... Reality, humanity, hearts and
souls irrelevant in
the feast of this most basic joining.
They clung together desperately as they slammed into the
wall of the last
orgasm together with twin shouts of rapturous
affirmation.
Angel collapsed atop her, utterly spent, burying his face
in her hair. Buffy
enveloped her arms around him, cradling her lover close
to her heart and
sighed contentedly.
"That's the best business meeting I've ever
had," he mumbled into her neck
between kisses. "By far."
"Mmmm..." she agreed.
"Easiest 75 grand I ever made, too."
His gaze snapped up to catch her mischievous smirk.
"Ha ha," he snickered
as he eased his weight off of her, then reached out to
help her off the table... and right back into his arms.
Everything he was
facing still waited with slathering teeth outside the
office door. Letting
Buffy go meant having to deal with it again. Being forced
to leave the
comfort of her presence...
Having to cope with what was happening to his son. And
having to do it all
alone, without her strength to shore him up.
Buffy burrowed into his embrace. "Are you sure
you're okay? I've never seen
you lose it like that before." She thought for a
moment. "Besides with
Spike."
"I'm fine," he prevaricated, brushing a kiss to
the top of her head before
forcing himself to step away and get dressed, taking a
spare shirt out of
the closet. "You have a rat trap to repair. Have
Michael get you that list
of contractors before you leave."
Buffy got herself together - minus her blouse - and
tugged on her light
jacket, buttoning it all the way up to cover herself.
"Yes, sir. I'm on it sir," she saluted.
Angel narrowed his eyes at her. "Get out of here and
let me get some work
done, woman. I'll call you tonight."
She went to the door, pausing to blow him a kiss and say,
"I love you,
Angel. Thanks. And don't forget what I said."
"I love you too," he whispered to the doors as
they closed behind her, then
turned back to his desk to click on the intercom once
more. "Michael, could
you come in here now, please?"
He took one last look out at the skyline, hoping it could
give him the
strength to deal with the unraveling of everything he had
spent the last two
years working for. Without Buffy by his side, he would
need it.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Seven by Duck
~
Ben had been working at the school for three days before
Dawn finally worked
up the nerve to talk to him. After Buffy cruelly nixed
her attempt to get
tutoring she didn't really need in calc and physics, her
original plan of
dazzling him with her stunning intellect and amazing wit
while they worked
got flushed down the toilet, and she was left wracking
her brain for a
reason to engage him in conversation.
So she did as she often did when faced with a crippling
social dilemma. She
pretended she was Buffy - strong, confident, able to leap
awkward moments in
a single quip... tiny, gorgeous, in perfect shape, with
perfect hair,
flawless skin...
Okay, so... Dawn at least hung on to the personality part
as she went to
find the new tutor where he'd gotten in the habit of
taking his lunch
break - alone near the fountain in the overgrown gardens
by the unused East
gate.
As she approached, she ran over the intelligence Ben's
tutees had gathered
in the past few days: he was athletic - a champion
runner. His favorite
movies were Cohen brothers flicks; his favorite music was
anything not
involving Boy Bands, Country, Gangsta
Rap or Brittany Spears; food: pizza
and fried animal flesh of any sort, although he ate only
grains and greens
when he was in training. Straight A student with a double
major in History
and Education. His parents were still married, he had one
older sister, also
married. He was originally from
didn't smoke or drink, and didn't currently have a
girlfriend, although he'd
broken up with his childhood sweetheart only a month
before.
Heck, Dawn hardly needed to talk to him at all. She
already had most of the
important facts. Of course, he had never actually talked
to *her*, beyond
that smile and a friendly hello when they passed in the
hall, and if there
was going to be any of the desired dating activity, the
two-way conversation
thing was a necessity.
So she put on her friendly indifference face (hoping it
didn't look like a
platypus on drugs face or something) and marched
resolutely over to his
solitary spot.
"Hey, Ben," she opened.
He looked up at her slowly, pinning her in place with
those intense blue
eyes.
"Hey. Dawn, right? Miss Summers' sister."
He knew her name! She nearly squealed with delight, in
spite of the fact
that her identity, as usual, was tied in with Buffy's.
"Yeah. Although, just Dawn is good."
"You're off limits," he reported with a wry
half-grin that made her heart do
a rather sloppy back flip in her chest, "Your sister
said she'd demonstrate
her skill with antique weapons if I so much as looked at
you twice. Or
touched you, unless you were choking to death and I
needed to perform the
Heimlich. Direct quote."
Dawn flushed in anger. Damn Buffy and her meddling
'proactive teenager
rearing'!
She forced a chuckle, just to avoid coming off like a
total loser. "She's
just kidding. She only uses the antiques on door-to-door
salesmen."
"Funny... she doesn't strike me as a big
kidder," he replied, then patted
the spot beside him. "Have a seat."
Nearly giddy with her first - if tiny - victory, she
accepted.
Unfortunately, getting this close to him at last pretty
much vaporized any
of the dozens of clever lines she'd so carefully
practiced to stimulate
conversation. It just wasn't right that one human guy
should be so ungodly
cute.
"So, you're a tutor, huh?" she asked...
doltishly, and mentally beat herself
over the head with a giant mallet. 'Real smooth, moron!
He'll just be dying
to take you out now.'
His half-smirk was laced with understanding. "Yup.
It helps toward my
teaching credentials. And keeps me off the streets."
"Oh, yeah," she teased. "You definitely
look dangerous. I expect to see your
face on '
To Dawn's horror, her joke not only fell flat, but Ben's
pleasant expression
vanished, leaving him looking like he'd rather be
anywhere else in the
universe than sitting here talking to the borderline
handicapped sister of
his boss.
"You'd be surprised," he said softly, almost to
himself.
'Okay...'
Dawn laughed again to break the tension. Of course, it
came out too high,
and way too loud, like a horse on helium, and she wished
she could just
explode already instead of sitting here watching her
Ben-Date stock plummet
by the moment.
Suddenly, he turned to look at her, once again nailing
her to the spot with
those eyes. "Have you ever had the feeling that
nothing in your life is what
you thought it was? That maybe you're not even who you
thought you were?"
Oh, great. Deep, philosophical questions. Luckily, this
particular one was
intimately familiar.
"Every day," she replied, finally glad to find
some common ground... even if
it was a little "My So Called Life" for her
taste.
Ben nodded, his expression easing just the tiniest bit.
"I had a feeling you
might, when I saw you in the student services
office."
That had Dawn sitting up ramrod straight. "You
remember me?" she yipped, and
immediately decided that little spurt of geekness completely cancelled out
the previous small positive.
Then he smiled. It was weak, a little sad, but it made
his face so
beautiful, she instantly forgot what she had been so
uncomfortable about.
"Of course I remember you," he assured her,
"I'd never forget a pair of blue
eyes in that pretty a hue."
She blinked said eyes at him stupidly. "Uh... yours
too. They're... blue, I
mean. And... also pretty." Ugh.
"Thanks," he said sincerely, as though she
wasn't vying for the Planet's
Biggest Slack-Jawed Yokel award.
'Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the...'
"So, why the existential crisis? I would think a guy
as great as you would
have it all together."
'Oh, good. Focus on his crippling depression. That'll put
him in the mood
for love.'
He regarded her closely, as if trying to decide if he
should trust her
enough to tell her something.
"It's kind of a long story."
Guess not.
"Well... I'm not going anywhere for a while. I don't
have class again until
four," she replied, hoping she sounded encouraging
and not nosey. She
couldn't remember ever being so interested in a guy's
life story before.
Ben hesitated again, looking away as if, she could swear,
in shame.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Maybe we could take a walk around the grounds
instead. Relax a little," she
suggested, and without thinking about it at all, reached
out to take his
hand.
Ben looked up once again, pinning her with those
beautiful, haunted eyes,
gave her hand a companionable squeeze as he took it, and
blessed her with
another of his incredible smiles.
Yow.
"I'd like that," he said. "I'd like that a
lot."
~
Wesley arrived at Fred's lab wired to near trembling with
tension. He had
given her the original Eternal Flame scrolls, procured
from one of Wolfram &
Hart's more... aggressive black market buyers several
days before, to
determine what her sophisticated equipment might
ascertain that his
expertise had missed.
The text itself had yielded no surprises - the Great
Warrior lovers carrying
the burden of re-balancing the powers of good and evil,
light and dark,
facing their deepest shadows along the way. Things they
already knew from
their earlier studies... and painful personal experience.
But what the original scroll contained that their own
translations and
psychically transmitted versions lacked was the
complicated latticework
design framing and snaking through the document, wrought
with largely
unfamiliar symbols and illustrations. Wes recognized some
as alchemical -
signs for fire, heart, change, death, and rebirth, for
example. But what
caught his attention were the other, less common marks,
and the way the lacy
outline joined them like some ancient, demonic
connect-the-dots.
As his dearest friend and focus of the prophecy always
said, there were no
coincidences where his and the Slayer's destinies were
concerned. So he had
spent the past four days meticulously scrutinizing every
possible source in
his possession on demonic and dead human cuneiform
languages for some clue
as to what the pictures might infer. He consulted with every
expert in every
dimension, spent an obscene amount of his monstrous
budget on obtaining
still more rare books and papers, and wracked his own
brain for some clue,
no matter how minute.
All to no avail. There didn't seem to be any meaning to
the remaining
symbols, and the panel of experts he'd consulted by
teleconference
unanimously declared them merely decorative.
But if there was one thing Wesley Wyndham-Price,
ex-Watcher, former rogue
demon hunter and paranormal research expert, and current
manager of Wolfram
& Hart's unparalleled archives and reference
collection had learned in all
of his years in the field, it was to always follow his
instincts.
And his instincts were telling him that the intricate
designs on this scroll
were *not* decorative, but part of the prophecy
themselves. Perhaps the key
to the ultimate solution for ending the Convergence
altogether.
So his last resort was science... and Fred. With ten
million dollars in
complicated mystical-scientific equipment at her disposal,
she was bound to
uncover something. At the very least, some clue as to the
illustrations'
origin and connotation. Anything would be better than the
nothing they had
now.
Fred and her associate, Mr. Knox, were waiting for him in
her office - along
with a ream of printouts from her mysterious computer,
which some in the
firm insisted was populated with the captured souls of
some of history's
finest scientific, mathematical and mystical minds.
Wesley assiduously tried to mentally dismiss that rumor.
"Good morning, Fred," he greeted, as always
thrilled to see her again. His
enthusiasm waned somewhat - completely against his will,
of course - when he
turned his attention to the omnipresent Mr. Knox.
"Mr. Knox."
The young scientist nodded curtly, but Fred gave him one
of her magickal
sunshine smiles.
"Hi, Wes. Come on in. Would you like some tea before
we start?"
"No. No, thank you. I'm eager to hear what you've
found," he replied, and
took the empty chair to her left at the small conference
table.
Fred's smile faded. "Yeah. About that." She
slipped a report folder to him.
"You were right. The borders and dividers on the
scroll are actually
writing. A lot of it, actually."
Wesley's face lit. "Really! Wonderful! Did you decipher
its meaning?"
Knox leaned toward him. "We analyzed the ink and the
point marks on all of
the pictograph sections. It wasn't easy to match them in
the system. This
scroll is over 1400 years old, and written in a
proto-demon language that's
been dead for pretty much all of that time."
"It's different than the pseudo-Latin of the main
text. What we've found
looks like a language invented by a demonic ritual subset
of the Knights
Templar," Fred went on, so in synch with her
assistant that it made Wesley
flinch internally. "Which is silly, of course,
because there were no demonic
magickal subsets of the Knights
Templar. But the symbols themselves are
closely related to a high magickal
language found in some of their last
writings before they were... disbanded."
"Burned at the stake, you mean," Wesley
corrected her with a little more
snap than he intended.
Fred flushed at his tone, but forged on. "The design
makes a linear story.
Each of the lines and symbols represents a character or event
on a timeline.
We had a hard time figuring out *what* timeline, exactly
- or whose - but we
finally discovered two characters who were constant
through the story, and
that made everything else fall into place."
She pulled out a page containing nothing but two symbols
- one which looked
like a wisp of smoke surrounding the Oroborous
of eternity, complete with
fangs, and the other a character that appeared to be the
sun chained to the
Earth.
Wesley stared at them in surprise, understanding instantly
who they
represented.
"Angel and Buffy," he gasped.
Fred nodded. "The timeline tells their life stories,
more or less. All the
major events that shaped their destinies are represented
by the symbols on
the latticework, and the lines themselves show the
passage of time." She
opened the report folder and leaned toward Wesley,
fuddling his mind with
her sweet, subtle perfume, pointing to corresponding
symbols as she spoke.
"See? This is Angel's birth, his turning, his first
re-ensouling, some of
his earliest attempts to do good. Then Buffy is born,
here... and 15 years
later, Angel's path intersects hers. The lines run
together for a while -
you can see the first things they faced together in Sunnydale -- her death
at the hands of the Master, Angelus, Angel's return from
Hell. Then, when
Angel moved here to L.A., the lines separate, but run
parallel, until the
Heliosum shows up, here."
"My God," Wesley breathed, "This is
virtually a detailed roadmap of the
events of the prophecy."
"Not virtually," Knox corrected him,
"Literally."
"The only problem is that we don't know exactly what
the rest of the symbols
are for," Fred added, "With hindsight, we can
figure out what the past ones
mean, of course. The Heliosum
is this figure - a pair of horns on fire.
Spike is represented by three rebirth symbols
intertwined. And from what we
can tell, this sort-of spiral thing represents each
instance of a void has
shown up. And on the connecting paths, there are common
symbols running
along the lines - we think they're the problems Buffy and
Angel had to
overcome in order to clear the symbol. These double lines
blocking the path
show when their communication has broken down."
"And each time, there's a void symbol directly
following," Wes observed.
"Right," Fred confirmed. "The void is the
common denominator - where they're
forced to climb over the blockages in order to move
forward on the path.
Here's the one at the school a few months ago, and here
is the one at
Spike's apartment building in May.."
Flabbergasted by the implications of what they had in
their possession,
Wesley raised his eyes to hers. "If we can determine
what the remainder of
the symbols represent, we can predict each of Angel and
Buffy's quests
before the issue manifests."
Fred smiled. "You got it."
"We have linguistics working on translating the rest
of the characters based
on the ones we already figured out," Knox informed
the ex-Watcher. "We've
gotten as far as the blockage signs and a few theories
about the next Quest
symbol."
Wesley looked at the large symbol - what appeared to be
the sign for Angel
himself, shown twice in succession, connected by two
figures that resembled
stick men - one whole, and the other broken in half by
one of the blockages.
"What on Earth can this mean?"
"Well... as far as we can figure, when you see the
same symbol duplicated
exactly..." Fred began, then paused to take a deep
breath before she went
on. "It represents children. Or possibly some other
direct blood relative of
the person the single symbol represents. We don't know
what the stick men
mean, though."
Wesley frowned. "But that's not possible. Angel has
no blood relatives - he
wiped out his entire family when he was first
turned."
"I know. That confused us, too. We thought maybe it
was a vampire he made or
something. But see here? The offspring symbol is cut in
half by one of the
blockages," Fred continued, holding Wesley's gaze.
"The experts think it
means that Angel isn't... telling the whole truth about
his family, and that
lie is the reason for the next quest."
The Englishman started, instantly defensive on his
friend's behalf. "Lying?
That's ridiculous. Why would he do such a thing? The
Watcher's Council
recorded his entire history in detail, and there are
historical records of
all the deaths. There'd be no point!"
"I don't know why, Wesley," she replied,
compassion softening her voice. She
was equally loath to believe that there was something
this important that
Angel wasn't telling them. "But if the linguists are
right, this symbol -
the trial he and Buffy are facing right now in the
timeline - represents
some direct descendant of Angel's. And if the pattern of
the blockage
characters hold, then... we've got another apocalyptic
event already
happening because of something about this descendant that
he's not telling
Buffy."
"And if he doesn't correct it..." Wesley
whispered, overwhelmed.
Fred's eyes filled, but she said nothing. Her assistant
kindly took up the
slack.
"If Angel doesn't tell the truth, the next void we
face might be the last."
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Eight by Ducks
~
Angel sat at his desk with his eyes closed, focusing
every ounce of his
concentration and will on his unnecessary breath, trying
to rein in the
tension and fear that had been plaguing him since he'd
found out about
Connor's problems.
The reports of supernatural activity in the city were
becoming more and more
frequent - and violent. People were vanishing, dying at
the hands, fangs,
tentacles and talons of the increasing influx of foreign
demons pouring from
dimensional rifts opening everywhere. More and more were
falling victim to
strange time anomalies. His once seemingly endless
resources were stretched
to their limit, trying to stop the deluge of destruction.
Two of his seers
had gone on stress leave the previous day, unable to cope
with the images of
mass slaughter, dimensional collapse, and Armageddon that
were constantly
bombarding them hour after hour.
He was all but certain now that no matter how much he
endeavored to deny it,
the disasters slowly annihilating his city were at least
partly a result of
his dishonesty about Connor. If his and Buffy's refusal
to be honest with
one another about their continued love for one another,
and Buffy's failure
to fully understand and share her feelings for Spike were
enough to set off
these apocalyptic events, how could he dispute that an
entire life that was
a lie - that he had not only avoided telling the whole
truth about his son
to his lover and family, but he had *stolen* the truth
from the latter - not
have even more devastating effects on the fabric of
reality?
The difficulty lay in that he could see no acceptable way
of stopping it. He
simply couldn't consider the possibility of shattering
Connor's psyche, his
life, any more than it had already been damaged by the
spell coming undone.
Angel's only possible course of action was to find a way
to recast the
reality net, and hope for the best.
A choice that didn't seem much more agreeable.
He had barely seen Buffy at all over the three days since
Benjamin Brannen
went to work at the school. It wasn't only that he was
insanely busy keeping
Wolfram & Hart's overwhelmed staff from falling apart
while fighting to keep
the city safe... but he just couldn't force himself to
face her. To keep
looking into her eyes and lying directly to her sweet
face. So he had
avoided the possibility entirely by simply staying away.
Instead of being angry, hurt or resentful, though - as
his neglected lover
had every right to be - Buffy had been a paragon of
support and love,
insisting that she understood that he had to keep on top
of the growing
chaos at the firm. She accepted his lies and excuses
without hesitation,
without question, and reiterated that she and the Slayers
were there if he
needed their help. Buffy and the girls had stepped up
their patrols,
bolstered by magicikians and
other specialists from his own staff. She
reported diligently on Benjamin's work, his mood, his
behavior... his son
seemed to be doing just fine there. No more 'spells', no
attacks, everything
perfectly normal.
Buffy was everything he could have dreamed of in a
mate... a best friend...
a colleague and comrade-in-arms.
And he came to be a bigger bastard every day. A terrible
partner. A failure
as man, lover, father and champion. A liar.
He chanted the ohm to drown out the rioting thoughts
consuming his
consciousness. He couldn't afford to be sucked into his
old, self-defeating
habit of wallowing in guilt and regret. He had to act.
Stay clear. Work to
remedy this situation before it got any more out of hand
instead of letting
hopelessness bury him.
But even if he fixed the illusion of Benjamin Brannen... Angel would still
be lying. The truth would still be buried deep inside his
heart and mind,
and the chain of the events in the Eternal Flame prophecy
would march on,
unabated.
His lies might well mean the end of the world.
"DAMNIT!" he roared, leaping to his feet, and
hauled his desk lamp across
the room in a fit of frustrated rage. The only way to
save the world was to
tell Buffy the truth. And by doing so, destroy the only
child he would ever
have.
How could the Powers expect him to make that kind of a
choice?
Some dark part of his soul kept reminding him - Connor
was never meant to be
born. He was a tool created by Jasmine to bring herself
forth. Wasn't that
what the Bug World priest, the Keeper, had told him? Why
should the Powers
protect the Destroyer?
With another bellow of pain and fury, Angel plowed
everything off his desk.
Whether it was meant to be, whether it was part of some
evil plot or not,
Connor *had* been born. He had a right to live. He was
Angel's child, and no
way in *Hell* could he let the boy suffer for that any
more than he already
had.
"Well, that's constructive," came a snide voice
from the open doorway.
"Having a bad day, Angel? You might want to consider
therapy. I can
recommend a great..."
Angel's head snapped up, full demon face in evidence, his
vision slowly
clearing to reveal Lilah
standing there, smirking at him.
"YOU! YOU DID THIS!" he thundered, and rushed
her... only to slam full speed
into the wall on the other side.
Lilah chuckled. "I'm not
really here, dimwit," she informed him coolly, "But
I try to return all my messages even if I can't be
corporeal. And since
you've left about 800 of them in the past week, I guess
it's safe to assume
it's urgent. Or... at least to you, it is."
Trembling, Angel glared at her. "We had a
deal."
The late lawyer cocked her head in a display of mock
sympathy. "We did. We
still do. What's happening to your Hell spawn has nothing
to do with the
firm, Angel. We held up our end of the bargain - we
turned your psychotic
whelp into Sammy Sunshine with a perfect American Dream
life. Don't blame us
if you and the Slayer have some weird curse that forces
you to tell each
other the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth." Her face
twisted into a disgusted grimace as she shuddered.
"How anybody can have a
relationship like that is beyond me. It's just
twisted."
Angel ignored her barb and took a menacing - albeit
impotent, he realized -
step toward her. "The Senior Partners keep saying
they have nothing to do
with the events of the Convergence. I'm starting to
suspect they're lying."
Lilah shrugged. "Truth's a
funny thing."
"Recast the spell," he demanded in a hiss.
"Release the memory wipe on the
sorcerers, and FIX THIS!"
"Angel," his unwelcome visitor responded
calmly, "There's nothing we can do.
This whole Convergence thing - what do you call it, the
Eternal Flame
Prophecy? So cute - it's not the Partners'. Somebody else
is playing Truth
or Dare with you, cowboy." She stopped and glanced
skyward, as if listening
to some distant sound, before looking back at him with
her coldest smile
yet. "And I think the proverbial fit's about to hit
the shan, so you might
want to buckle up." She leaned toward him.
"Maybe you should have thought
the whole Connor thing through more carefully before you
signed on the
dotted line. But, hey, spilt milk and all that,
right?"
Angel growled at her, but before he could respond, the
office door opened to
admit a disheveled and clearly upset Wesley. The weary
ex-Watcher's eyes
were immediately nailed to the apparition of his dead
lover.
It was hard to miss the way her expression softened at
the sight of him.
"Wesley," she greeted quietly.
The Englishman's frown deepened. "Lilah. What are you doing here?"
She stared at him for a moment before she could find the
will to respond.
"Just trying to convince your tiny-brained boss that
the Partners don't have
anything to do with his personal Armageddon. Like they
don't have more
important things to worry about besides his relationship
with the Slayer."
Angel found himself surprised that Lilah
hadn't exposed the entire Connor
situation just to be cruel. Maybe she and the Partners
were truly as bound
by their mutual agreement as he was. He filed away that
little factoid,
fully intending to use it to his advantage in any way he
could later.
"Ah. I see," Wesley murmured, tearing his gaze
from her and resting it on
the focus of his visit, and then scanning the pile of rubble
scattered
around the room. "Angel, may I speak to you for a
moment? Alone, if you
please."
The vampire spun and marched back to his desk. "Get
lost, Lilah, or I'll
call an exorcist."
"I'm gone. Good luck with your little...
problem," she said snidely, and
gave one last wistful glance at Wesley before she
vanished.
When she did, her ex-lover flinched as her essence flowed
through him. It
took a moment to clear his head and remember why he was
there.
The man he considered his closest friend might very well
be lying to all of
them. About exactly what, or why, he couldn't be sure,
but he intended to
find out. And hope that whatever it was, whatever Angel's
reason for hiding
the truth, he might be able to convince him to change his
mind and at least
tell Buffy.
"Have a seat, Wes," Angel offered with a light
tone that was clearly forced.
"What's up?"
Wesley squared his shoulders, steeled his nerve, and sat
in the chair across
the desk from his friend. He searched the vampire's features
for...
something. Some sign, he supposed, but... Angel had the
finest poker face he
had ever encountered.
"I've just come from the lab. Fred has made some
progress in deciphering the
original Eternal Flame scroll."
Angel's expression brightened noticeably - a strange
reaction for someone
who was about to have some deeply personal, elaborate
ruse exposed. Wesley
wondered - was it possible that Angel didn't *know* about
this relative?
"Did you find anything useful?" his employer
asked eagerly.
Wes hesitated. When he had initially come down here, he
was fully prepared
to confront his friend - both from personal hurt at being
left out of
something so potentially important after they had agreed
to keep the lines
of communication open between them, and a more
professional fear that this
kind of dishonesty between vampire and Slayer might well
be putting the
world in danger.
Now, he wasn't so sure that Angel was purposefully lying.
Clearly, he'd need
to tread a bit more carefully than he had planned.
"Yes, we did, as a matter of fact." He set his
copy of Fred's report on the
desk between them. "My theory regarding the
ostensibly 'decorative' borders
on the parchment seems to have had some merit."
Angel scanned the notes... and went a no doubt
unconscious degree paler than
normal. He didn't raise his gaze to Wesley's again.
"'The path of secrets,
shame, and lies,'" he quoted, and swallowed
noticeably hard. "Cuts right to
the chase, doesn't it?"
Wesley stiffened at his colleague's response. "Yes,
it does. Especially the
symbol that falls upon what we believe is this moment on
the timeline.
Representing the trial you and Buffy face next."
For a moment, Angel stared at the paragraph, which
bluntly described what
Fred and her experts believed was the latest Eternal
Flame quest. Wesley
wondered if... no, hoped... that his friend was about to
reveal his hidden
hand... if there was one.
But when the vampire finally glanced up, his face once
again wore its usual
unreadable expression.
"Unfortunately, this is wrong," he declared,
sliding the report back to
Wesley. "I appreciate the effort you've put in, but
I don't have any living
blood relatives."
Wesley froze, dumbfounded. He had never, in a million
years, thought that
Angel would tell such a bold-faced lie in the face of
irrefutable evidence.
"Are... are you certain, Angel?" he inquired.
"The translations are quite
clear based on the events you and Buffy have already
overcome." He was
almost desperate now to have Angel explain... come
clean... do anything but
continue to cling to an untruth that may very well spell
the end of life as
they knew it. "Perhaps there's someone you were
unaware of..."
Angel's expression hardened. "I'm sure, Wesley. I
murdered my parents, my
sister, three paternal and two maternal uncles, six
paternal and four
maternal aunts, their spouses, 21 first cousins,
seventeen second cousins,
and anyone who might have had even the most casual
contact with any of them.
There is no possible way a single human being walking the
face of the Earth
today is related to me directly."
Wesley blanched at Angel's frigid tone and matter-of-fact
reporting of so
many horrific crimes. "I... of course. I didn't mean
to imply... it's just
that the symbols are so clear."
Angel's jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth, and his next
words came in a
vicious hiss. "Are you accusing me of something,
Wesley? Do you really think
I would lie about something so heinous? I'm not *Spike*.
I don't take
*pride* in butchering thousands of innocent people."
The Englishman blinked and sagged back in his chair,
suddenly far less
certain that Fred was as correct as he had initially
assumed. Could she and
her experts have made a mistake? Was there some other explanation
for what
they had found? Translating prophecies could be such an
inexact science, as
he knew well from experience...
"I'm sorry, Angel," he apologized softly,
unable to hold his friend's
wounded gaze any longer. "I certainly don't think..."
"That's obvious," Angel interrupted with a
snap. "Is there anything else?"
Mortified with shame, he rose. "No. No, of course
not. We'll keep looking."
"Do that," Angel barked, and turned away toward
the afternoon vista
sparkling outside the window behind him as he often did
when he was upset.
Wesley stared at his friend's back for a moment.
"Again, I'm sorry. We
should have known that you would never..."
The vampire waved him off, but didn't turn around.
"It's okay, Wes. We're
all a little stressed out right now. No harm done."
Wesley wasn't so certain his reassuring words were the
truth, either. "Very
well then. I'll advise you if we find anything
further," he stated, and made
his way out of the office, more confused than ever.
His own knowledge of pictograph languages was far from
limited, and he
knew - no matter how badly he tried to convince himself
he didn't - that the
pattern of translation the linguists had used on the
Eternal Flame text was
as flawless as such endeavors could be. That left only
two possibilities -
either the man he nearly idolized as a paragon of honor
and truth was
prevaricating to all of them, or there really was a
surviving member of
Angel's human family that he was unaware of.
For the first time, Wesley found himself wishing that
Angel hadn't set Darla
and Drusilla on fire five years ago in retribution for
their psychological
torture of him on behalf of the very law firm he now ran.
Not that either vampiress would
have been forthcoming with any
information...
He stopped at Michael's desk and waited for the young man
to acknowledge his
presence - a task that could sometimes take several
minutes, depending on
the assistant's mood.
With a roll of his eyes, he finally inquired, "May I
help you, Mr.
Wyndham-Pryce?"
"Yes. Please page Ms. Burkle
for me, would you? Let her know I'm on my way
to her office. And... place a call to Mr. Haverton, as well. We'll require
his assistance."
Calling Spike for help was certainly not the most comfortable
choice, but...
if Angel couldn't - or wouldn't - help them determine the
latest quest, then
they would be forced to do it themselves.
Using whatever means they had at their disposal. Even
former vampires that
could quite easily still be considered enemies.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Nine by Ducks
~
Ben couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to Dawn
Summers. They'd been
walking around the perimeter of the campus for hours,
talking about
everything (with some obvious exceptions) and nothing. He
couldn't remember
the last time it was so comfortable to be around another
person... a
woman... even Karen, who he'd known all of his life.
He had taken her hand on their third lap, and hadn't let
it go since. It was
the first time in months that he'd felt grounded, steady,
and he wondered
if, somehow, telling her his real problems might make
them seem less
crushing.
She was that wonderful. Gorgeous and sweet, funny and
smart... a genuinely
understanding and compassionate listener. He half wanted
to drop to his
knees and thank whatever gods populated the heavens that
he had found her
now. Just when he needed her the most.
Dawn didn't scrimp on her share of the conversation,
either, and he was
equally proud that she trusted him enough to tell him
some of her darkest
secrets.
They finally ended up propped side by side beneath the
shade of a giant
willow tree as the afternoon waned.
"I found out I wasn't r... I was adopted... four
years ago," she announced,
picking at a dandelion she held. "Nobody told me. I
found some notes about
it. I never knew. I never even suspected. I mean... I
always thought that
Buffy and Mom and Dad were really my family."
His heart broke for her, and Ben found himself sliding an
arm around her
shoulders and giving her a reassuring squeeze. She looked
up in surprise at
the gesture, and he was instantly lost in the sharp, pale
blue of her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "That must have
been hard."
She blinked, looked away, and gave a shrug. "Yeah. I
was really angry for a
while. I didn't understand how they could have lied to me
like that. But
then... Mom got sick, and everybody pulled together.
After that, it didn't
really matter anymore. Wherever I came from, I belonged there.
Buffy was my
sister. And Mom was my mom. I'd never known anything
else."
"Do you know who your birth parents are?"
She shook her head. "Not really. There's no record
of them."
Ben sighed and looked out at the sun setting in the
distance. "Sometimes I
wonder if I'm adopted. I've never felt... right in my
family, I guess.
Especially the last couple of years. And sometimes I have
these dreams..."
Dawn leaned into him, and Ben tightened his grasp around
her shoulders
without a thought. It just seemed right to do so, to be
so close to her, and
the warmth of her body next to his increased the
sensation of strength. Of
being centered. Like being with her pulled the ragged
edges of his crumbling
reality back into some order again.
Like magick.
"Like what?" she asked, as if reading his
thoughts, but he realized she was
asking about the dreams.
He gazed at the sunset and recalled how unreal everything
in his life had
become. How even this soft, serene moment almost felt
like a scene from a
movie, like the old tapestry of his life had faded so
much, he could see
some Matrix-like horror showing through from the other
side.
"It's hard to explain," he confessed.
"It's hard to even talk about." He
turned enough so he could look into her eyes once more.
He latched onto the
compassion he found shining there, and hoped that telling
the truth wouldn't
frighten her away the way it had Karen. If there was
anything he couldn't
stand right, it was an losing an understanding friend.
"But the gist is...
my life as I know it isn't real. I had a whole other
family. A girlfriend...
a child... sort-of."
"How do you have a 'sort-of' child?" Dawn
teased, trying to diffuse the
growing tension radiating from him. "Is that what
you get after you're a
'little bit pregnant'?"
Ben couldn't help but smile, but it faded in the next
instant. "It wasn't
human. And neither was my father."
The made the youngest Summers sit up a little straighter.
"Not... human?"
With a nod, he went on. "He was... God, you know,
even for a dream it sounds
stupid. He was a vampire. Some kind of superhero with a
soul. What do you
think Jung would say that means?"
The girl who had once been the Key to a Hell dimension
cringed a little in
spite of herself as his admission set off a million alarm
bells inside of
her.
What were the chances it was a coincidence that this
complete stranger was
dreaming that Angel was his father?
"I don't know," she replied tentatively.
"Maybe you should tell me more
about it."
Ben stared into her eyes for a long time, saying a silent
prayer that Dawn
Summers was really as strong and understanding as she
seemed.
And then he told her. Everything, from the first
nightmares, to the attacks
and their accompanying mysterious mini-storms. It felt
amazing - and
terrifying - to open up so completely to a caring woman.
He barely knew her,
and yet, he felt as though he was baring his soul to his
oldest, closest
friend in the world.
A far cry from the response the so-called 'love of his
life' had given him.
"It's been almost a week since anything weird
happened," he concluded.
"There was this guy following me last Wednesday, and
when I confronted him,
all Hell broke loose. Everything's been cool since then,
so..."
"That storm on campus," Dawn interrupted in a
shocked whisper. "The void was
following *you*."
Ben frowned in confusion. "Void?"
Dawn didn't run away, but the stark terror that blanched
her rosy skin to
white as she glanced up at him once more was nearly as
bad. She jumped up
and reached out a trembling hand.
"We have to go talk to my sister. Now," she
declared.
Ben let Dawn pull him to his feet, and before he even got
a chance to gain
his balance fully, she was tugging him frantically back
toward the school.
"Hold on! Your sister? Why?"
"I'll tell you on the way," she promised, and
began to run.
Well... at least she was running *with* him, and not
screaming away in the
opposite direction, Ben thought. That was a step up.
Although what Buffy Summers, headmistress of an
exclusive, fancy private
school for girls could possibly know about psychotic
breaks and imaginary
monsters, he had no idea.
~
Spike scowled at Angel's so called "science and
research" team, and wondered
how people with such supposedly big brains could be so
damned stupid.
"What the Hell are you asking me for? Do I look like
Angel's friggin'
genealogist?"
The pair of numbskulls stared at him as if somebody'd whacked them both in
the head with a 2X4. When Angel's Boy-Friday Mickey or
whatever had called
him, he'd done that begging/ordering thing to get Spike
there, no doubt
counting on him being unable to resist a juicy story
about his asshole
grandsire. Not like he had anything better to do that
afternoon, anyway. But
now that he'd heard the real reason they'd wanted him, he
wished he'd stayed
home and caught up on his soaps, instead.
"We didn't know where else to turn," Weasley explained. "You are, in effect,
Angel's closest blood relative. We thought that perhaps
you might know
something he has... forgotten."
"Or... you might be the one in prophecy," Fred
added. "Although we think the
symbols refer to a human kind of connection."
Spike rolled his eyes. "I already got the Black Hole
treatment, Thanks. And
I know fuck-all about that wanker's
dead family - 'cept they're dead. Here's
a newsflash - him and me ain't
exactly buddies, you know what I mean? We
don't spend a lotta time
chatting. Never have."
The skinny bird's cute little puss collapsed into a
disappointed scowl,
while the Watcher's bony body appeared to deflate right
into his chair.
"I'm afraid we're quite out of ideas, then," he
sighed.
"What the Hell's this about, anyway?" the
ex-vampire asked. "Why the sudden
interest in Liberace's stunted gene pool?"
The gruesome twosome exchanged a look, obviously debating
whether to tell
him anything.
"If you want my help, you better give me all the
facts. Otherwise, I got
nothin' for you."
"We told you about the prophecy," Fred
relented, "It gives a timeline of all
the Convergence anomalies. And every time there's been a
void, it
corresponds to a trial... sort of... that Buffy and Angel
have to pass to
stop it."
"Yeah. I'm familiar with the sensation," he
grumbled, remembering with a
sharp pain in the general region of his heart how Buffy
had been forced to
choose between himself and Angel once and for all in
order to save them.
"What's that got to do with whether the Plonker's got any relatives?"
Wesley opened the file he'd practically been sitting on
through the entire
meeting, and passed it to their guest.
"This dossier details our examination of the Eternal
Flame scroll we
recently acquired. As you can see, each player in these
events is
represented by a symbol, as is each event itself - or
rather, the issue
between Buffy and Angel that must be solved in order to
impede the event."
Spike took a quick look at the meaningless squiggles all
over the page, but
immediately focused on Wussley
once more. "But you still ain't telling me
what that's got to do with some mutant branch on Angel's
tree."
"The latest symbol," Fred replied, pointing to
it. "It's the symbol for
child, or offspring. Angel's, specifically. Someone he's
either not aware
of..."
"Or he's lying through his fangs about," Spike
finished for her as
everything began to make typically twisted Buffy and
Angel kind of sense.
"The Slayer said she's got a feeling he's not
telling her something about a
case he's trying to clean up. I wonder if that's our
missing spawn."
His fellow Englishman frowned. "I wasn't aware of
any problems with a case."
"Well, that makes a whole bunch of us then, doesn't
it?" As the final brick
in the Angel's Screwed Wall slammed into place, and he
shook his head.
"Shit. It must be this kid Buffy's hired. The
tutor."
"What tutor?" Wesley yelped, "What case?
What in God's name are you talking
about?"
"Angel's been acting all fucked up over this Brannen kid," he explained,
slowly piecing together the bits of information he'd
managed to overhear
along the way, added to the sketchy details Buffy had
given him. "Says he's
the son of a client the Law Firm from Hell cast a spell
on to ease his
mental problems. Guess the mojo's
gone all wacky, and the boy's going
full-out nutcase. He's also some brainiac,
so Angel got the Slayer to hire
him on at the school to keep an eye on him. But more than
that - he had me
look into one of those voids that swallowed one of the wanker's Miss Cleo's
when he was tailing the boy wonder."
Fred stared at him, then at the Quest symbol. "The
broken child... it all
makes sense... sort of. Except... how can this boy be
related to Angel? He's
right that he killed his whole family, and... vampires
can't have children!"
She glanced wildly at each man in turn. "Can
they?"
"No. But vampire's also ain't
supposed to have souls, and we all know how
unbreakable that rule is," Spike pointed out.
"Maybe Angelus' little
soldiers aren't as dead as they're supposed to be, either."
"That's impossible!" Wesley cried. "Not to
mention the specifics of such a
'miracle'. For example: who was the mother? How did it
happen? And when?"
"If Spike is right and this client's son is
Angel's... it would have had to
have been what, nineteen or twenty years ago? Where was
Angel then?" Fred
wondered aloud.
Wesley quickly reviewed his extensive mental storehouse
of Angel's history.
"In
or no contact with humans at all after the incident with
the cashier in the
diner..."
"So he's got some miracle kid by some unknown chick
he was banging when he
says he wasn't even saying 'boo' to humans." Spike
snorted. "That's a whole
big pack of lies me old grandsire's hauling around."
"If that's what's going on," Fred cut in,
"I hate to say this, but... the
theory isn't really all that important right now, is it?
Shouldn't we be
getting to the school? I mean... if Angel won't come
clean, and things are
this unstable because of the convergence, there's no
telling what might
happen. If a void's already opened up around him..."
"And Buffy doesn't know anything about this,"
Spike realized aloud, jumping
from his chair, already dialing her office number as the
trio ran for the
door. "Damn it, Angelus!"
Fred was shouting into her own cell as they sprinted down
the corridor
toward the elevator. "Knox, get a vortex team
together and meet me at the
Just for form, Wesley dialed Angel's emergency number for
the hundredth
time, and once again, as it had been since their
discussion earlier, he
received the exact same response - Angel's voice in more
cheerful days,
telling him he was unavailable at the moment... would the
caller please
leave a message, and Angel would get back to them as soon
as possible.
Wes dutifully left his hundredth message, and slammed the
phone shut, hoping
'as soon as possible' wouldn't be too late.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Ten by Ducks
~
Angel stared at the old trunk he'd dragged from the
dankest, dirtiest part
of the Hyperion's subbasement. It was the sort of thing
one might put a time
capsule, or some priceless treasure in - fireproof,
waterproof, shockproof.
The army surplus supplier he'd bought it from had
guaranteed him it was
designed to survive the concussion of a ten-ton nuclear
bomb.
There was no reasonable explanation for his having kept
this... all this
useless, meaningless junk... mementos of a life that had
never existed as
far as the rest of the world was concerned. He never dug
it out... never
opened it and rifled through the items and remembered...
he'd simply buried
it four years ago and forgotten about it since.
Or rather... had refused to think about what was inside
since. He knew,
though. He knew every toy, every piece of clothing, every
scrap of paper and
photograph by heart. Could conjure up in perfect sensory
memories of buying
them... using them... taking them... giving them to his
infant son. His
miracle child...
And packing them up when he was gone.
Now, he was terrified to open it. So afraid of what might
happen when he
unveiled that floodgate of shattered dreams and crushed
hope. Desperately
anxious that the deluge he'd held back by sheer force of
will for all these
years would simply demolish him once and for all, the way
its slow trickle
had been gradually destroying his son.
But the others knew... or were close to figuring it out.
When Wesley had
entered his office and challenged his assertion that he
had no living
relatives, Angel had realized that no matter how
assiduously he fought it,
there was no other way things could go now. He had to
tell Buffy the truth,
before someone else got hurt or disappeared.
He might lose her - lose everything -- because of it.
He'd lied over and
over again to her, to all of his family. Worse, he'd
taken their memories
away from them. How could they not hate him for that?
Especially considering how much he hated himself for it.
For all of it.
And at the center of it all... what would happen to
Benjamin Brannen when he
learned the whole truth? Would the boy finally just...
break? Would he be
able to save him this time? Would Holtz, so many years
after his death,
finally have his ultimate revenge? Take away the one
selfless act Angel had
ever done?
He meticulously cleaned the trunk. Wiped out the
accumulated dust and grime
of years of neglect... but left it locked tight. His very
own Catch-22
Pandora's Box. Opening it threatened everything he had
built... everything
he and the others had sacrificed for... in the past three
years. But not
opening it...
The consequences would be far worse. It came down to a
choice so deceptively
simple, it was almost pathetic that he had to think about
it at all.
His son's sanity... his relationship with his family and
the woman he
loved...
Or the ultimate fate of the world.
All his denial... all his struggles to avoid this very
decision... came to
nothing. There was no longer any choice. Nothing left to
debate.
Angel gathered the box in his arms, lugged it upstairs
and out to the
parking lot, set it carefully in the passenger's seat
beside him in the
Belvedere, and buckled it in the safety belt as though it
were Connor
himself.
There was one more stop he had to make before his world
exploded -
metaphorically or literally. One person who could have no
input at all into
what he was about to do - and the only other person
besides Connor who might
be directly affected by this breach of promise.
He tore out of the parking lot and barreled full speed
into traffic toward
Cordelia's private hospital.
~
The goddamn phone wouldn't stop ringing, and Buffy was
torn between ignoring
it, or tossing it out the window.
She chose to hit the voicemail button to make it stop
before returning to
staring at her sister and Ben in shock once more.
"You're serious," she pronounced, half hoping
Dawn would leap up and yell,
"Psych! Fooled you!" and make the dread
clenching her chest loosen so she
could breathe again. "And... Angel... you're sure he
was the one in your
dreams." She nodded to the framed photo on her desk
- the very one Ben had
been staring at when he arrived a few days ago.
He nodded. "I'll never forget his face. I couldn't.
In the dreams.. he was
my father. I tried to kill him. And he... did kill
me."
"Ben said mini-voids have been following him all
over the place," Dawn
added. "It can't be coincidence, Buffy. The
dreams... the vortexes... We all
know the Convergence is tied to you and Angel..."
"And he got me to hire you," Buffy went on
almost absently, "He said... you
were the son of a client he was trying to help."
"He knew?" Ben barked. "This guy knew what
was happening to me, and he
didn't do anything about it?"
"He was trying," Buffy defended, forcing her
attention back to the present.
It was automatic to come to Angel's defense, even if she
couldn't really be
sure she was right in doing so. "He said they were
trying to fix a spell."
As shocked as she was by the idea that Angel might have a
relative he hadn't
told her about, she still wasn't sure exactly how much
Bed did, could, or
should know about what was happening to him. She needed
to hear the truth
from Angel, first.
Too bad he hadn't answered any of her six billion 911
pages.
The boy's expression only grew angrier. "He cast a
*spell* on me too? Great!
How else are you people screwing with my life?"
"Ben, it's not like that," Dawn corrected
gently, reaching up to lay a
steadying hand on his arm. He violently jerked away,
pacing to the far side
of Buffy's office.
"This is insane! My life was perfectly normal until
you people came into
it!" He spun back, laying an accusing glare on
Buffy. "What did you do to
me?"
"Nothing!" Buffy answered, but an instant
later, had to wonder... Angel's
employers *were* evil... what if they had done something
to Ben, and Angel
was just cleaning up their mess?
But then... why wouldn't he tell her about it? Which made
her think... what
if Ben was one of those morally ambiguous jobs Angel so
hated that had
backfired on him... and now the mess he was cleaning up
was his own, and he
was too ashamed to admit it?
"Look, Ben," she began, rising from her seat
and approaching the kid
cautiously, like a wounded animal. And frankly, the way
he was shaking...
the crazed, confused look in his eyes... that was exactly
what he seemed to
be right then. Accordingly, she stopped a few feet out of
striking range,
and wondered if Angel had lied to her about his mental
stability, as well.
No... Angel wouldn't lie to her. Something else had to be
going on here. "We
don't know for sure what this is about. Angel said he was
trying to help
you. He would never purposefully do anything to mess up
your life. He just
doesn't have that in him."
Dawn thought of what her sister's lover had done to Spike
not to long ago,
but thought it best not to bring it up. After all, Ben
hadn't tried to rape
Buffy.
"Are you kidding?" the subject of their meeting
cried. "He had people
*following* me! And what about the dreams? You think it's
just a coincidence
that that's how this whole nightmare started?"
"Okay. Just... calm down," Buffy cajoled.
"Freaking isn't going to help. Let
me call him. We'll figure this out, I promise."
She turned back to her desk, but before she could dial
Angel's emergency
number yet again, the intercom buzzed. Not certain what
she would hear on
the other end, Buffy chose to pick up the handset instead
of using the
speakerphone as she usually would.
"Yes?" she asked with no small amount of
trepidation.
"Slayer? What the Hell's going on in there? One of
those storms is screamin'
through out here, and it's shortin'
out the gate!" Spike shouted above the
gale that wailed clearly through the phone. "You got
that kid with you?"
Her gaze ticked up to Ben. "Yes."
She listened as Spike gave a rather unpleasant
demonstration of his bluer
language skills before he went on. "It's him, Buffy.
That Brannen kid is the
focus of this installment of the fucking Convergence. You
gotta get out here
and let us in!"
The Slayer gulped. Ben glared menacingly at her, and for
the first time, she
heard the storm outside rattle the windows as if to
punctuate Spike's
warning.
Was she looking at the reason for the end of the world?
Had Angel knowingly
encouraged her to bring this into her home? Her heart
wrenched. Was she
wrong to have trusted the man she loved so implicitly?
"I'll be right there," she mumbled, and hung
up.
"Buffy? What is it?" her sister asked as she
got up.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and drew Buffy to the
windows to stare out
at the growing chaos outside. The sky had gone from the
smooth, sparkling
blue it had been all day to a bruised night grey streaked
with slashes of
lightning.
"I think we're about to find out what's happening to
Ben." She snapped out
of her daze. "Dawn, call Xander
- tell him to meet me at the front gate.
Then get
eyes to Ben. "Please, stay here. We'll fix this, I
promise."
As she turned and sprinted out the door, Dawn looked at
Ben. Somehow, in
spite of his obvious rage and everything he'd told her,
she still wasn't
afraid of him. She walked right up, clamped her hands
around his face... and
kissed him. Hard.
Startled, Ben stared at her, forgetting, for a moment,
that his life was in
the process of coming completely unraveled.
"My sister has saved the world a whole bunch of
times. When she says she'll
fix something, she fixes it," she assured him.
"Don't worry."
He took a deep breath, once again trying to draw on her
strength to steady
himself. Only... it didn't seem to be working anymore.
"I don't know how
much more of this I can take. What is this, Dawn? What's
happening to me?"
Dawn glanced out the window, then gave him a little
smile. "The storm died
down a little for a minute. It really must be tied to
you."
"Stop saying that!" he shouted, hurt that even
she -- who he'd hoped might
be an actual ally. His only ally -- now seemed to be
blaming this on him.
"This is impossible! There's no such thing as
monsters, people can't control
the goddamned weather, and this ironically-named 'Angel'
is NOT MY FATHER!"
The thunder crashed as if in response to his outburst,
followed by lightning
striking so close to the building, Dawn could smell
burning grass. The
ground trembled.
"Ben, it's okay! You're safe here! We can help
you!" she hollered
desperately, knowing that if it wasn't true, the whole
world was probably
about to come to a really bad end. Again.
His enraged glare did scare her, this time. In her short
life, she'd fought
in several apocalypses, had almost been a human
sacrifice, and spent time
seeking out Slayers in some of the most dangerous places
on Earth, but
nothing had ever terrified her like the look on Ben's
usually sweet face.
She automatically backed away.
"Help me! How can you possibly help me?!" he
screamed at her, and the
maelstrom kicked up in response. "YOU DID THIS TO
ME! You turned me into a
fucking FREAK!"
"No!" Dawn cried, raising her hands in defense
as he advanced on her. "Ben,
no. I would never..."
"SHUT UP!" he roared, picking up the nearest
chair and heaving it at her.
"You know, I've got to wonder - if I kill you, will
you disappear into some
fucking void too?"
She ducked the flying items, still trying to get him to
calm down before the
storm took care of what he was trying to accomplish.
"Ben, listen to me! You
have to stop this! Please! You have to control the
storm!"
As she said those words, the office windows exploded
inward, showering the
pair in colored glass.
Benjamin Brannen kept screaming
right along with the tempest, demolishing
everything in his path as he barreled toward her.
"YOU DESTROYED MY LIFE! YOU MADE ME CRAZY! YOU! ALL
OF YOU! WHAT ARE YOU
PEOPLE!?"
"NO!" Dawn shrieked, diving behind Buffy's desk
as he wrecked the office, a
nightmare vision of horror and violence. A monster
smeared in his own blood.
"BEN, NO!"
He roared at he top of his lungs as he tremor increased
to a full quake,
knocking him to he floor only inches away from Dawn's
hiding place. She
heard his skull crack even above the din as his head hit
the edge of the
desk, and he went limp.
"BEN!" she cried, and tried to reach for him.
But before she could move, the air split where he had
just been standing, a
vortex opening up and swallowing the entire far end of he
room as it tore
straight toward them.
"BUFFFYYYYYYYY!" she screamed as the world
disintegrated around her.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Eleven by Ducks
~
It took almost half an hour for Xander
and Buffy to make it to the gatehouse, where Fred, Wesley, and a dozen
increasingly familiar specialists from Wolfram & Hart huddled beside their
van. It took all of Buffy's Slayer strength - bolstered by a good shot of
adrenaline - to rip open the bars enough to let the vehicle through.
Spike immediately grabbed her and gave her a frantic
once-over. "You all right?"
She nodded. "The storm. Ben. It's..."
"I know," he shouted above the din. "Your
new tutor is the next piece in the Buffy and Wanker
complete and utter bloody non-logic puzzle."
Buffy's already shell-shocked gaze ticked to the frightened,
but compassionate faces of Angel's closest friends as if for confirmation.
"Why is this happening? Who *is* Ben?" she
asked, desperate to gain some kind of understanding in the midst of all this
chaos. To figure out why Angel wouldn't tell her everything when he knew full
well such half-truths could have this disastrous result. "What does he
have to do with Angel and I?"
Wesley stepped up to her. "We don't have time to
explain - we have to get to that boy!"
Even more frightened by the usually calm ex-Watcher's
frantic tone, Buffy replied, "He's in the office. Wes..." She stopped
him before he could pull away. "I can't find Angel. Do you know where he
is? Don't we need him?"
With a surprisingly uncharacteristic show of anger,
Wesley shouted, "He knows we're close to solving the riddle. I spoke to
him this morning. No doubt he's endeavoring to find another way to hide the
truth from us. For whatever reason."
"Ooh, boy," Xander
grumbled to Spike as the team piled into the Wolfram & Hart truck and
plowed through the mangled gate directly into the heart of the storm.
"Dead Boy's gonna be even deader when Buffy gets a hold of him."
"She's gonna have to get in line," the
ex-vampire growled. He could put up with a whole lot of shit from his grandsire
- the constant humiliation, the endless remminders that Angel was where he
wanted to be in more ways than he could count, the ceaseless sensation that he
was - always had been, and always would be - second best...
But the one thing he wouldn't tolerate was the bastard
hurting Buffy. By lying to her... or by getting the world sucked into Hell.
~
The serene quiet in Cordy's
room seemed almost ironic when compared to the storm of fear and dread raging
inside him. Angel couldn't even be sure why he'd come to tell her. She
certainly couldn't hear him... couldn't argue or help...
But he took his customary seat beside her anyway, and
leaned his suddenly desperately weary frame on the edge of her bed, taking a
moment just to look at her. To remember the friendship she had once given him,
and hope that when this was over, at the very least, he would still have the
resources to care for her. There was no telling what Wolfram & Hart might
do if he broke their agreement. Although Connor's reality spell was a perk they
had granted *him*, the nature of his evil employers' contracts could never
truly be foreseen... until they were broken.
"I have to tell them," he announced softly,
"I have to break the spell, and... I don't know what will happen then. I
don't know if I'll be able to keep you here."
She didn't respond, of course - not a flicker of movement
or the minutest change in the smooth, shallow rhythm of her breath. Even the
shadow of her spirit that had once lived in his mind had long ago ceased to
speak to him. He wondered if maybe her essence had lingered on Earth for a
while, watching over him until he was safe again, back on even emotional ground
within himself and with the people around him, then eventually moved on.
Only now his reality was rocking, quaking and crumbling
all around him once again - far worse than it had in the two years he'd spent
in cold, empty denial.
Perhaps she'd left him too soon.
"I wish you were here," he murmured, taking her
hand. "You knew him. You loved him. You were there for so much of it.
Maybe I would have made a different decision in the first place, if..."
He trailed off. Even the effort of speaking seemed to be
draining. All these ifs... maybes... pipe dreams of how things might have
turned out differently if he had just taken another path all those years ago.
It was a waste of energy - the past was gone, and all he could worry about was
the growing disaster of Right Now.
"Every time I think of doing this, I see his face
that last day. I see you lying there. I see those people he held
hostage..." his voice broke, and he paused to regain his breath. "How
carefully he'd rigged the explosives... and the way he talked about love and
death. How could I force him to live like that? No human being should have to
feel so... hopeless. And I know intimately what that's like. How could I
condemn my only child to that shell of a life? How can I do it now?"
Angel shook his head. "I don't have any other
choice. Just like I didn't have one then. I have to face the consequences. And
help him face them... if he'll let me. If any of them will let me..."
"I don't know if you can hear me, Cor, wherever you are... I just... I wanted to come and
tell you... no matter what happens now, I'll make sure you're safe. I've messed
up everything else, but... that much I'll get right. Even if I can't keep you
here. I promise."
He rose then, straightened and stood tall, feeling just
that tiniest bit more ready to handle what was about to happen. So little felt
stable in his existence, right now... there was so little he could count on. In
some twisted way, sitting in Cordelia's place of
endless sleep reassured him. As selfish and warped as that feeling was, at
least he knew that she would never turn away from him -- couldn't turn away
from him.
He would have liked to believe that Buffy wouldn't
either. That she would try to understand. That she loved him enough to forgive,
and know that he never would have lied to her if there were any other way.
But when he considered how unyielding he had acted toward
her when Spike returned... how hurt he would be if she lied to him this way -
especially when it might endanger the world...
He wasn't at all sure.
"I'll be back," he promised Cordelia,
and as he turned to leave, automatically pulled out his cell to check his
voicemail, having turned it off as he mentally prepared for the trial before
him.
There were 54 messages. Some from Michael, some from Wes,
a few from Buffy. All were tagged 911. The final one from Wesley was in text,
and what he read froze his heart.
'School under attack. Benjamin Brannen
focus of storm. Come ASAP.'
Had his decision to finally break the spell and finally
tell the truth come too late?
"No," he whispered, then cried out,
"NO!"
He bolted from the room without closing the door behind
him.
~
"Where are they?" Buffy shrieked at Faith.
"They can't just be GONE!"
She and the Wolfram & Hart team had returned to her
office to find her sister Slayer, Willow, Giles, Wood, and a dozen other girls
standing in the wreckage.
Giles, Xander and Robin quickly
excused themselves, splitting up to comb the grounds for the missing - Dawn and
Benjamin. Everyone else stared at the disaster area, paralyzed with shock.
"B, we're looking for them," Faith reassured
her - in spite of the fact that she was pretty damn certain she already knew
where they had gone. Didn't the broken furniture, the burned rug, the shattered
windows, the books and papers scattered everywhere pretty much tell the tale?
"Fuck," Spike commented as he took in the
scene.
"Buffy," Wes interrupted gently, "I'm
sorry to be insensitive, but time is short. We must assume that Dawn and Mr. Brannen have been taken by one of the voids."
"No!" Buffy shouted desperately, "They
don't work like that! They don't just swallow people up and disappear! Why
isn't the whole school gone?"
Spike took her arm. "This happened to the kid
before. Angel had me check out a site where one of his psychics disappeared
while he was following Ben. Left this same kind of mess."
Buffy stepped away from him and sagged against the
now-empty bookcase behind her as the growing realization that Wesley was right
hit her like a punch in the gut. And worse, that all of this was happening to
her baby sister because the one man in the universe she trusted without
question had hidden something so important from her. Angel had looked her
straight in the eye... deep into her soul, she thought... and knowing the
devastating effect untruths between them could have... he had lied.
"I was talking to Ben before you got here," she
said, her voice weak with threatening tears. "He told me... he thought he
was going crazy. Monsters kept attacking him, then disappeared right in front
of his eyes. Like the void was protecting him."
As the fear for Dawn and the hurt of Angel's betrayal
crushed her, she slid to the floor, huddling in on herself. "Angel
knew," she whispered. "He knew this could happen, and he didn't tell
me." She dragged her gaze stiffly to the others. "Why? Why wouldn't
he tell me?"
Wesley glanced away, cowed by the strong young woman's
obvious pain. That very question had been consuming his mind since they first
translated the prophecy. After all they had been through together, how could
Angel have hidden Benjamin's true identity from them?
Spike squatted beside her. "The big brains think
this Ben is a relative of Angel's," he told her, figuring someone around
here ought to start telling her the truth. "We don't know why he kept it a
secret... but it's all in black and white on that scroll. Angel's descendant is
the issue this time around."
Buffy tried to be comforted by
How could she be certain of anything when the one thing
she thought she could always be sure of had crumbled beneath her?
"Will, I think we should start running some tests on
the room... see if we can figure out the energy pattern of the voice, and follow
it," Fred interrupted softly, her own confusion over Angel's behavior set
aside for the moment. The best course of action was to keep everyone focused on
doing something - anything to help, besides standing around worrying.
"Maybe we can discover where it went."
The redhead nodded, her gaze lingering on the fallen
Slayer as she rose. All the things that Buffy had survived, and still... just
like always, Angel was her one weakness. The one thing that could bring her
down. She turned to look at Fred, and as their eyes met, she paused. For just
that split second, there was no apocalypse, no storm, and no broken best
friend. Only the warm, comforting depths of her newest friend's velvet brown
orbs, giving her solace.
Then she spotted Kennedy standing over the scientist's
shoulder, scowling as she too noticed the obvious connection, and that snapped
her back to the present once again.
"Let's get to work," she commanded.
Faith stepped up. "Okay, here's the plan. We'll
split into teams. Kennedy, take a group and hit the South grounds. I'll get the
part to the East. Joann, Wes, find Giles and the others. Figure out what areas
they've covered and spread out from there. If you find any signs of the vortex,
beep me or Buffy."
As she went on, Spike couldn't help but brush a gentle
caress over Buffy's tearstained cheek. Her eyes, so clouded with misery, ripped
through his heart as she glanced up at him, her expression pleading for answers
he just didn't have.
"Why would he do this, Spike? I don't understand."
Her ex-lover shook his head. "Dunno,
pet. But we'll fix it, with or without him."
'And once Bit is safe, I'm gonna give that rotten, lying
fucker an ass kicking he'll never forget,' he thought. 'Contract or no fucking
contract.'
~
Dawn regained consciousness to find a pair of huge green
eyes peering at her from behind what she at first thought was a fishbowl. She
let out a startled yelp, sending Marvin scrambling backward as she leapt to her
feet.
"Get away from me!" she hollered at him,
dropping automatically into fighting stance.
Then she got a good look at his disheveled geek attire,
and was instantly calm again. She couldn't be too afraid of anyone who looked
like a reject from 'Revenge of the Nerds'.
Marvin kept backing away, his hands raised defensively.
"I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Marvin LaPiene.
I work for Mr. Angel."
Unfortunately, that information only seemed to make the
girl angrier. "So you're in on this too? What did you do to us?"
Realization began to dawn on her, and she looked frantically around at her
environment. It appeared to be some kind of cylindrical cave, with entrances at
each of the five points. The cavern itself rose above them, so high that she
couldn't see the top. "Where's Ben?"
Marvin nodded toward one of the passages to his left.
"He took off that way. There was a vampire in here. He went after it. I
swear, I don't know what's going on. Angel asked me to find Ben and check up on
him, but when I did, I got sucked into one of the vortexes that've
been springing up all over the place."
Dawn moved around the cave, peering down each of the
tunnels in turn. When she reached the one where Marvin said Ben had gone, she
took a few steps inside. The darkness was so complete that she couldn't see her
hand directly in front of her face.
"Ben?" she called. "Ben, are you -
ACK!"
She jumped half out of her skin as his warm hands clamped
over her shoulders.
"Dawn, shh! It's me,"
Ben hissed, immediately turning her back toward the cavern. Once they were in
the light once more, Dawn gasped to see that he was covered in bruises and
bloody gashes.
"What's going on? Where are we?" she cried.
"Ben, what happened?"
He didn't look at her, but instead began to restlessly
pace their prison. "I don't know. But this looks like a dumping ground for
the creatures that have been attacking me." He shot a glare at Marvin.
"And other things that pissed me off."
"Look, I told you!" Marvin cried. "I don't
know why Mr. Angel had me following you. He just said you were in trouble, and
he wanted to know how you were! I didn't have anything to do with this, I
swear! Do you really think I'd want to fall down some rabbit hole into
Hell?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Ben shouted back
at him. "The way things look from where I stand, you're just as much a
part of this freak show as her and this Angel guy!"
"Mr. Angel is NOT a freak!" Marvin defended.
"He's a great ma... being! A hero! He's saved the world!"
"Could have fooled me! None of this crap started happening
to me until I started dreaming about him!"
"Okay, enough!" Dawn barked, stepping between
the two fuming men. "It doesn't matter who caused this - we need to find a
way out, okay? So save your macho garbage for AFTER we get out of here!"
Marvin and Ben both stared at her in surprise over her
forceful tone, but before either could respond, the chamber shook, and a
vampire came plowing out of one of the passageways. Ben yanked Dawn behind him
and rushed the advancing demon with an enraged roar of his own.
Dawn backed to the opposite wall, wide-eyed as Ben
performed a quick, devastating series of punches and kicks, knocking the
vampire easily off its feet, then grabbed its head and twisted until it
exploded into a shower of dust.
"Holy moly!" Marvin
gasped. "Who is that guy?"
"I have no idea," Dawn whispered, equally
flabbergasted.
When the dust settled, the unexpected warrior turned back
to look at his companions, and the sister of the Slayer stared, dumbfounded,
listening to her heart pick up a thundering beat in primal response to his
fierce countenance. All the time they had spent together... all the things Ben
had told her about himself, and still... watching it happen before her eyes hit
her like nothing she had ever dreamed of... heart, body and soul.
"I have no idea," she repeated, her tone less
frightened, this time, and more... excited.
"We have to move," her new hero commanded,
taking her by the arm, and marched down the eastern corridor once more.
Dawn shot Marvin a look over her shoulder as he followed.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Twelve by Ducks
~
Fred tried to tune out the noise and chaos all around her
- the storm outside, Willow's low, constantt chanting, and most disconcerting of
all, Buffy's intense, unblinking scrutiny of her every move - in order to run
the tests they needed on the energy patterns of the room.
But even when she did manage to concentrate, none of her
equipment registered a thing. Not even the tiniest residual sign of the vortex that
had destroyed Buffy's office and taken her sister remained. If it hadn't been
for all the obvious physical evidence, she might have wondered if the void had
even manifested at all.
Xander and Andrew had nailed
boards over the shattered windows, but she could still hear the growing storm
force a shrill, menacing whistle through the edges, as if it was some nightmare
bird, warning that it would soon break in and take the rest of them, too.
"Nothing. I can't find them anywhere."
"Me either," Fred concurred, "Or the
vortex. I don't understand why we can't trace this one the way we have the
others."
The Slayer closed her eyes and turned away, but remained
silent as she had throughout the ordeal. Without a word, she left the office,
slamming the giant double doors behind her.
"Goddess... what are we going to do?"
The powerful witch's grief struck Fred like a blow. It
seemed like, the closer they became, the more sympathetic emotions they shared,
as if
A physical spark lit where they made contact. Fred
snatched her hand back as
"We'll find them,
The witch closed the last inches of space separating
them, and in what felt like slow motion, reached out to caress the brunette's
face. Another little flicker of electricity sparkled, a tingling heat that
spread outward from her face, warming the rest of her tired body and finally puddling low in her belly.
"It's funny," Willow whispered, looking so
deeply into Fred's eyes, the latter could swear that the sorceress was casting
a spell at her in that very moment - capturing her, body, heart and soul with
her light. "No matter what's happening... as long as you're here, I feel
like... everything will be all right. I haven't felt that since..." She
gave a little smile. "Are you sure you're not a witch?"
Fred blinked as a hot blush took her from head to toe.
"I... no. I mean... of course I'm not! I never... "
"I was just kidding, Fred,"
If there were sparks before when they merely touched -
which there were - the kiss was a whole lot more like being struck by a bolt of
lightning. Fred had been feeling something for
What did the end of the world matter when she felt like
this? How could she deny the firestorm consuming her, originating where their
lips met, radiating outward, until she was nothing but heat? What difference
did gender make when she could swear on a stack of bibles that she had never
felt this way before about anyone?
A moment - or maybe a few thousand years - later,
"You should probably breathe, Fred," she joked
softly.
Fred nodded and did exactly that, but the shivering
pleasure that had completely overtaken her brain didn't abate even a smidge. It
was like her every cell had been sleeping all of her life, and had only now
begun to wake... to sing... at
"Oh! CELLS!" she gasped at the thought,
snapping back to reality. "DNA!"
Willow stared at the spunky brunette in confusion as she
scrambled away, snatching Connor's abandoned jacket from the chair and rushing
over to the portable mini-lab she'd set up on the conference table.
"Well, I'd say that was the weirdest reaction to a
kiss I've ever seen, but... it's not. One time I turned into a guy." She
followed Fred and watched as the scientist took a miniscule brush to the faded
denim jacket. "I hope this is better."
"Yes!" Fred cried, completely unaware of
"Um... Fred, what are you doing?"
Fred grinned at her. "It just hit me! We can't find
the void, or Ben and Dawn, but maybe we can puzzle out the truth about his
relationship with Angel from the DNA. Then *we* can solve the quest and get
them back!"
With a scowl,
"Yes we do! When we took the job at Wolfram &
Hart, Angel made us all give samples - just in case there was ever any question
about our real identities. I have the patterns stored in my system. All I have
to do is compare Ben's to Angel's, and we'll have our answers!" she cried
happily.
Despite being a little nonplussed at Fred's nonchalant
acceptance of the possibility that she might be replaced by a double, she
smiled.
But she kept her questions to herself, unwilling to steal
this small sliver of hope from the woman she was falling in love with.
Fred peered into the digital output screen on her
modified laptop, and her bright expression evaporated as she read the results.
"Oh my God..."
"What does it say?"
Fred slowly drew her eyes up to meet the redhead's.
"I don't know how this is possible, but... the match
is 99.89% certain." She took a deep breath, hoping desperately that a
little more oxygen might make the words less... confusing and unbelievable.
"Willow... Benjamin Brannen is Angel's
son."
~
It was difficult for Angel to tell which slowed his
progress more - the now familiar raging storm that bombarded the city, making
the drive as treacherous as a short cruise through Hell, or the fear and dread
that weighed on his heart like a ton of lead.
It had been so long since he felt like this... like every
step he forced himself to take was a hopeless chore, leading him nowhere but
from one painful, meaningless moment to the next...
He'd lost even the will to resent the Powers having
placed him in this position to begin with. Maybe he had been wrong to think
there was no scale he had to balance to atone for centuries of horror, after
all. Maybe some cosmic court had previously adjudicated that his pain was meant
to be as endless as the path of sorrow he'd left behind him. All the
families... the lives he had destroyed rebounding on him threefold by
demolishing his own, over and over again for eternity. No matter what he did,
no matter how hard he tried or how deeply he longed, everyone left him one way
or the other... alone with nothing but his regrets... the endless stream of
ghosts...
Compared to his thoughts, the fury of the storm and the
overflowing trunk of baby mementos weighed nothing.
As he climbed the steps to the school, he wondered
exactly how Buffy would react to his news - that not only did he have a son he
had never told her about, but that he had done nothing but lie to her for
weeks. That he had knowingly put her, the school, and possibly the world in
jeopardy when she had asked him point blank if that was a possibility, and he
had denied it.
In his current state of mind, he half hoped that she
would just stake him in a rage and put him out of his misery once and for all.
A familiar, dark daydream that he hadn't entertained in more years than he
could remember.
But, no... there would be no such sweet, simple escape
for him, even on the wild, off chance that it was offered. It would be his
penance, his duty, to carry the pain of the loss of what he'd only just
regained, and go on, just like always. Sweep away the remains of a life he had
truly come to love.
Connor wouldn't be alone in that respect, at least.
He paused outside the doors to Buffy's office when he
heard shouting echoing inside. His keen hearing picked up enough to know that
he had been right - his family had found evidence of his lies, and were even
now arguing over how to respond.
Before he could reach for the doorknob, Buffy's soft,
broken voice filtered out to him, plunging like an arrow straight to his heart.
"We can't just judge him like this. He deserves a
chance to explain. It... can't be what we're thinking. It just can't..."
He closed his eyes, fighting back yet another wave of
tears. His beautiful lover... his faithful friend... her belief in him still
standing in the face of what was, no doubt, irrefutable evidence that he wasn't
worth it.
Angel loved her more in that last moment - as he stepped
inside to obliterate that faith forever - than he ever could have imagined.
Eight familiar faces greeted him. Although 'greeted' was
a sad overstatement. Each person present wore some variation of mask expressing
anger, hurt, confusion or disappointment. A tribunal of betrayal. A jury of
shattered trust.
He steeled himself against the tides of anxiety, fear and
rage that buffeted him, took a moment to wonder about the condition of the
desiccated room, then marched through the rubble, placing the trunk on the
conference table around which his judges sat. He looked into Buffy's
tearstained face, said a silent prayer that by some miracle, she might not
completely despise him, and began.
"I have something to tell you," he spoke to her
directly. "Something I wish I could have told you a long time ago."
He glanced around, then, and to his surprise, the darkest
expression among them belonged to Wesley.
"Yes, I imagine that you do," his friend
snapped. "Beginning, I hope, with the fact that you inexplicably have
fathered a human child. Or perhaps that you have lied to us about the origin
and existence of that child, and now the Convergence has descended to *coerce*
you to tell the truth. How noble of you. Do go on."
Angel blinked at his friend's stinging tone. He had been
expecting this eventually... but not this soon, and not from Wes. Not, at
least, until he had heard the whole story.
How much worse would it be when he did?
Through all of this, he had neglected to think just how
intricately Wesley's fate was tied to Connor's. Just how deeply wounded he
would be when he remembered all of the circumstances that had led to the
destruction of their lives four years ago...
"I..." he stammered, suddenly uncertain that he
could go on. "I couldn't..."
"We know, Angel," Fred interrupted, her usually
gentle voice edged with steel nearly as sharp as Wesley's. "We know that
Benjamin Brannen is your son. We just need to know
how."
"And why you didn't tell us," Buffy whispered,
drawing his eyes back to her once more.
"Quit fucking pussyfooting around!" Spike
shouted, jumping from his seat and getting directly in the stunned vampire's
face. "Start talking. All of it. Now! I swear, if anything happens to Bit
because you're a stupid, selfish, short sighted bastard, I'll toss you into
that vortex my bloody self!"
Angel stared at him, then at Buffy again. "Why?
What's happened to Dawn?"
His lover's eyes welled with tears, but she looked away
without replying.
"Dawn and your son have disappeared. We believe into
one of the Convergence voids," Giles informed him flatly, squelching his
own urge to throttle Angel on Buffy's behalf.
Spike pushed Angel aside and ripped open the box. "I
imagine these are fucking visual aids, knowing your pathetic pack-rat,
obsessive-compulsive fucking tendencies, so quit staring like a bloody
catatonic and start fucking showing and telling!"
More curious than angry, and feeling sorrier for Angel by
the moment, Faith reached over and whacked the fuming ex-vamp in the arm.
"Lay off, Spike. Things are bad enough without you
pulling your drama queen shit," she admonished.
"You shut the fuck up and mind your own
business!" he shouted back.
"Hey, watch how you talk to her, pal," Wood
warned.
"What're you gonna do about it, Kojak?"
"This isn't helping!" Fred cut in, "We all
have to remain calm!"
With that, the room exploded into a fury of insults and
arguments, until Buffy stood, slamming her hands on the table to get their
attention.
"ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!" she roared, and then
turned to Angel. But she couldn't make herself look him in the eye. "Just
tell us whatever you have to so I can get my sister back. Nobody will interrupt
you again." She shifted her glare to Spike. "Sit down, or I'll *sit*
you down."
Her tone - and his own past experience - left no
illusions that Buffy meant it. Shooting Angel a final glower, he retook his
seat.
Angel turned and began pulling items out of the box: a
singed teddy bear... a miniature hockey stick... a stained blue blanket with
pictures of clouds on it... a stack of photographs, medical records, and
journal entries... and began passing them around. He watched Buffy stare eye-to-eye
with a stuffed duck as he began the tale.
"I'll keep it brief. Most of you already know what
happened in 2001. But there are consequences of that time none of you remember.
Soon after Buffy came back, Darla did too. She was pregnant."
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Thirteen by Ducks
~
"I can't... run... anymore," Dawn panted,
collapsing against the wall of the latest corridor they'd run down in search of
some way out of this nightmare. She tried to remember if she'd swallowed any
funny red pills lately, because this was either some twisted version of
Wonderland, or her own personal 'Matrix'. Too bad she didn't see Neo hanging
around anywhere.
Marvin stopped beside her, barely winded. Did Angel make
his psychics attend morning step classes or something?
"Come on, Dawn. We can't stop here," the seer
complained. "We at least have to find a smaller cave, so we can defend it
better."
Of course, Marvin was fairly certain that, if they did
stop, the next pack of vampires that descended upon them would be the last. Ben
was looking -- w ell, still totally nuts, actually, like some junior Conan or
something, but on top of that, he was beat all to bejeezus,
too. He and Dawn had done their best to help out, she with her kickboxing (she
was no Jennifer Garner,
though) and he with his rock-throwing (the less said
about the ineffectiveness of that tactic, the better), but their creepy
protector was bearing the brunt of the violence. Even with his obvious
strength, speed and stamina (God, he hated the guy more every minute...), he
wasn't going to be able to take much more.
"I can't!" Dawn shouted. "We've been
running for like, three weeks straight! Just let them eat me already! That
ought to slow them down!"
Marvin surreptitiously took in her slender figure, but
wisely chose not to mention the fact that she didn't look like she'd make much
of a meal for a bloodthirsty demon.
He dropped down beside her, taking her arms and give her
a violent shake. "I'm not going to let you die! Mr. Angel would have my
head!"
"Screw Angel!" she shrieked. "This is all
his fault to begin with! I hope he DIES of guilt!"
As the pair squared off, Ben seemed to finally snap back
to the present, walked over and shoved Marvin aside. He gave Dawn a hard look.
"You have to get up, Dawn," he commanded in a
tone that managed to be angry and gentle simultaneously. "Right now."
She gave him her wickedest scowl. "What, don't want
anyone else to kill me but you?"
Ben closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and crouched
beside her. "I'm sorry about before. I don't want you to die. I was
just..."
"Psycho?" she snapped.
He smiled. "Can you blame me?"
"Yes!" she barked, but took the hand he offered
and let him pull her to her feet. "You think you're the only person in the
universe who's had creepy stuff happen to them? Buddy, you don't even have a
*clue*!" she huffed, and stomped off ahead of her two companions.
Ben all but grinned at her retreating back. "She's
something else, isn't she?"
Marvin glared at their resident superhero. "Yeah.
She's 'something', all right."
"Come on, you two, there's another cave up
here!" Dawn yelled.
The pair sprinted in the direction her voice was
originating from, and found that she was right -- this cave was smaller, with a
ceiling only fifty feet or so up, and only one entrance. A much better setting
to defend.
If you didn't count the vortex churning above them.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Marvin
warned. "The energy in here's all wrong."
"Is that a professional opinion?" Ben
questioned as he examined the wall for footholds.
"Not yet," the psychic sighed, wondering why he
hadn't had a single vision in the days before he got sucked into this Hellhole
- nor a single one since.
"We really could use a demonstration of your skills
right now," Dawn added, coming to stand beside the seer as they watched
Ben easily scale the wall. "So... he fights monsters like Blade, runs like
the Flash, and climbs walls like
Marvin glared at her. "What's that supposed to
mean?"
"No offense," she apologized. "He's just
going through this whole identity crisis thing... he doesn't think he is who he
always thought. Like, he's adopted or something, maybe."
"I think he's related to Mr. Angel," Marvin
blurted out. "Mr. Angel's been awfully worried about Ben lately."
Remembering how Ben had come totally unglued back in
Buffy's office, she nodded. "And no wonder. Too bad Angel didn't bother
telling my sister about it. Maybe we wouldn't be stuck here now."
Marvin had read all of the files about the Convergence,
of course, and suddenly this whole fiasco made a really disappointing kind of
sense. At the same time it made a really exciting kind of sense, considering it
more or less confirmed his own theory about Ben's origin. But what he couldn't
figure out was - why wouldn't Mr. Angel just come clean to his fabled
girlfriend and avoid this entire mess? What kind of background could Benjamin Brannen possibly have that would shame his esteemed
employer into such a dangerous silence?
The answer to that, he supposed, was up to Angel to
reveal. He could only hope that the vampire would, so that they wouldn't end up
the next victims of the universe's most warped video game.
"This vortex doesn't seem to..." Ben began,
then abruptly went silent.
The two onlookers exchanged a glance.
"Ben?" Dawn called, but got no response. For a
moment, he just hung there on the wall, and suddenly, like something out of a
nightmare... he started to scream - a sound so full of rage, pain and fear, it
nearly knocked both Dawn and Marvin off their feet.
Then he fell, still screaming at the top of his lungs as
he plummeted to the ground.
~
Buffy forced herself to wait until Angel finished his
story before she got up and left without a word. He hung back for a moment,
stunned in spite of himself at her reaction, before he followed. She was in the
process of throwing on a raincoat and heading out into the storm when he
stopped her.
"Get your hands off me," she snapped.
"Buffy, please. Let me explain."
"Explain what? That you're a coward and a
liar?" she raged, pushing him a step away from her. "Yeah, please,
explain some more. Because I really want to hear your excuses for *lying* to
me! To everybody! For putting my sister's *life* in danger to cover up your
dirty little secret!"
"That's not what this is," he began, but she
cut him off.
"No, you know what? I don't care! I asked you, over
and over again, what was going on! If Ben could pose a threat to us. You looked
me right in the eyes and *lied*! After everything we've been through together,
you *still* didn't feel like you could talk to me! So I'm *done* trying to
force you to! If you can't trust me by now, you never will. And I sure as HELL
don't trust you! Now get out of my way! I have to save my baby sister from YOUR
MESS!"
She shoved past him and vanished into the night, leaving
Angel staring after her, drained utterly of any will... any feeling... anything
at all.
Buffy was right. What else could he possibly say?
He forced himself to return to her office, where the
others till sat in accusing silence. He had to finish this.
"I'm sorry," he told them. "I had no other
choice."
"There's more that you're not telling us, isn't
there?" Wesley mumbled. "Although that's hardly a surprise, at this
point."
"Why don't we remember him, Angel?" Fred
queried. "You said we were all there, but... why don't we have any
memories of it?"
He held her gaze. "That was one of the conditions of
the spell. No one could remember Connor except me. It would be like nothing
related to him ever happened - his existence was wiped out entirely. And if I
had told you, the spell would be broken, and he would be Connor again. I
couldn't allow that to happen."
"Don't you think you oughtta
be telling the Slayer this?" Spike griped. "'Cause the storm isn't
letting up any."
"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth," Wesley added. "How much more is there?"
Angel looked at his friend. "There's a great deal
more."
"It doesn't matter," Faith cut in, the only
person in the room who wasn't holding a major grudge against Angel right now. Who
the Hell were they to judge him? Would they have done any differently if Connor
was their kid? She seriously doubted it. "Angel, go tell Buffy. Don't let
her push you away," she encouraged him. "We'll find out how the team
is doing searching for the vortex. You can tell us the rest later."
He gave her his best attempt at a grateful smile, then
turned and ran out of the office, down that hall, and through the exit where
his wounded, frightened lover had disappeared, unheeding of the downpour that
instantly soaked him to the bone.
Angel looked, but couldn't see in the lightning flooded
darkness. Listened, but couldn't hear above the thunder and occasional tremor
of the earth. Couldn't find her scent above that of the rain.
"BUFFY!" he called into the gale, and catching
sight of a single flooded footprint, dove into the night, determined to at
least be heard. That she know everything before she decided to throw him out of
her life forever.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Fourteen by Ducks
~
Buffy barely noticed the storm herself as her tears mixed
with the rain sluicing down her face.
Even as she scoured the ground, illuminating it inch by
meticulous, useless inch with her flashlight, training all of her senses on
finding a sign - any sign - she was battered with equal parts pain over Angel's
deception and fear for her sister. She choked in breath after sobbing breath
through her seemingly permanently clenched chest, and tried not to listen to
the riot of her thoughts.
How could he do this to her? How could he lie about
something so important, so fundamental to his life? He had told her about his
breakdown... his soul-suicide attempt with Darla four years ago. The story had
been so wrought with agony and regret... he'd shared so many dark, painful
secrets about his past... and they'd held one another all night, crying over
all the years lost between them. So many things they'd suffered through alone
when they knew - all they would have needed was one another to lean on, and it
all would have been infinitely easier to bear.
How could Angel not have told her the most important part
of that story? That out of the pain, the despair, a miracle had happened?
He promised her - no secrets. And she had believed him.
Now it seemed that lie was poisoning all of the joy, all of the wonderful
things she thought they had been building together on a foundation of love and
unshakable trust...
It was all a lie.
Buffy felt him approach before he said her name.
"Buffy, stop. Please listen to me. You need to know
the whole story..."
She ignored him, dropping to a crouch to examine a patch
of ground that had been disturbed. The soil there was seared, but she couldn't
tell if it was from a void, or from the lightning that had struck so seriously
earlier.
"Buffy," he repeated.
"Leave me alone," she barked. "I have to
find my sister!"
He was silent for a moment, as if willing himself to push
past her anger. But if he thought she was just going to give in because he gave
her that puppy dog look, and let him talk his way out of this...
He was in for yet another surprise.
"After Jasmine, he was just... broken," Angel
explained as though she was listening. "He took 15 people hostage in a
sporting goods store. With Cordelia. He rigged them
all with explosives."
She stood and moved on, still not acknowledging him, but
he followed anyway, still talking.
"Connor said there was nothing true in this world...
except death. He had nothing to hold onto. I tried to tell him there was more -
there was so much to..." he sighed. "But how could he understand
beauty or love or security when he'd never had them? In essence, he was already
dead. I honestly had no other choice."
That sparked something inside of her, bringing her rage
back to the surface as she spun on him.
"There is ALWAYS a choice, Angel! How do you think I
felt when I found out my sister was the key to some Hell dimension, and the
only way to stop Glory from using her to rip a hole in reality was to *kill
her*?! The others... Giles? They were ready to do it! So do you know what I
did? I *dove off a
tower* rather than let her die. And I counted on the
people I cared about to make sure it would be all right when I was gone. So
don't talk to me about *choice*!"
"You don't understand!" he shouted back at her.
"You couldn't possibly! He is my flesh and blood! My *son*! If I had told
you the truth, I would have lost him - and who knows how many others! If I
could have died in his place, don't you think I would have? But all I had was
the opportunity to give him the happy, normal life he'd been denied because of
who his father is! You know how it feels to want that normalcy as much as I do!
How could I fail to give my only child that chance?"
"It's a lie, Angel! Benjamin Brannen
is a *lie*. How is that any better? Did you really think the truth would never
come out? Were you just... okay with twisting that poor kid's life into knots -
with lying to all the people who care about you? Who cared about *him*?"
"No!" he replied, "I wasn't okay with it.
But what was I supposed to do? I had *moments* to make a choice --let Connor
self-destruct, maybe kill all of those innocent people - or set him free? What
would you have done in my place? If you'd had a child you never thought you could
have... if he was stolen from you, and tortured to the point where there was
nothing left inside him but pain and rage? What would you have done?"
Buffy stared at him... at the pain in his beautiful
eyes... and could find nothing to say in response.
"I'll tell you what you would do," he went on
softly, his words barely audible over the pounding rain. "You would do
whatever you had to to keep them safe. You would
sacrifice anything. Everything. And do it all over again. You and I are exactly
alike in that respect. Buffy..." his voice broke as he concluded,
"He's my son."
And she, better than anyone, knew what that meant to him.
That in the most crushed, beaten part of his soul, Angel still longed for the
happy normalcy he had forever been denied. A home... family... and knew too
that he believed those were things he would never be allowed to have - no
matter what the Shanshu prophecy implied.
Remembering that, her anger lost the worst of its bite,
and she found herself considering his question. Would she - really - have done
any differently in his place, no matter what she felt about it in the abstract?
"I know," she finally replied, "I
understand that. I do. But that doesn't change the fact that you lied to me.
And it doesn't bring Dawn back. She has nothing to do with this, and she's
still suffering for it." Slowly, she glanced up at him once more, and her
expression hardened. "If anything happens to her, I will never forgive
you."
Angel flinched at the vicious, soft-spoken blow, and suddenly
understood - there was every possibility that she wouldn't anyway. Buffy asked
him for so little... except honesty, and that was the one thing he hadn't - and
couldn't have - moved mountains to give her.
They stared at one another in silence, each trapped on
opposite sides of an unassailable wall - the proverbial meeting of the
unstoppable force and the immovable object.
Then, the storm kicked up once again to a new level of
violent fury. The wind pushed at them... lightning struck not twenty feet away,
and there was the unmistakable, horrendous din of a void tearing through the
thin veil of reality not far off.
Followed by a chorus of screams.
Buffy's already pale face blanched, her eyes going
saucer-wide with sudden terror.
"Dawn," she gasped, then screamed,
"DAWN!"
One sentence came clear, as if her sister was standing
right next to them.
"BUFFY, HELP US!!!"
Buffy and Angel spun in tandem and bolted in the general
direction of the sound, which originated several yards from where they were
standing, through a small copse of cedars.
"DAWN?" she hollered when they reached the
other side.
"CONNOR!" Angel bellowed.
There was no response. Buffy glanced at her lover.
"He doesn't know that name, Angel."
In spite of her anger, his stricken expression almost
compelled her to reach out and take his hand for comfort - his and her own.
But before she could, a strange man's voice ripped
through her mind, erasing the urge with its force.
'Miss Summers! Is that you?'
The Slayer froze and once again gave Angel a frantic
look. "Can your psychics speak telepathically?"
He nodded.
"Did you just hear that?" she asked him.
Angel closed his eyes and concentrated, forcing his mind
to be still and quiet, but found the expected result - it was not only
impossible for vampires to be scanned psychically... they couldn't communicate
in that way, either. He sadly shook his head.
"See if you can speak to him," he suggested.
"His name is Marvin."
'Marvin?' Buffy thought with all of her strength. 'Can
you hear me?'
'Oh, thank the Gods! Miss Summers, yes, I can hear you!
You have to help us! There's something terribly wrong with Benjamin, and there
are demons...'
"He says there are demons!" she reported to
Angel, leaving out the part about Ben.
"Where are they?" he asked aloud so that Buffy
could transmit the thought to Marvin.
'We're in some sort of catacombs,' he replied even his
psychic voice shrill with fear, 'Natural, like a network of caves. There's a
void above us, but it only seems to draw things in, not spit them out, and all
the monsters Benjamin has dispatched are roaming around in here. He's
screaming. Please, Miss Summers, help us!'
'Dawn?' she asked automatically. 'Is she okay?'
'She's fine, but Ben... it's like somebody's driving a
stake through his head. He's curled up in the fetal position. Dawn keeps trying
to talk to him, but I don't think he can hear her. Please - the two of us can't
hold them all back much longer without him!'
"Are they all right?' Angel begged, terrified of her
response.
She looked him in the eye... and lied. An irony that was
in no way lost on her. "They're fine. But... I don't know for how
long."
Angel took a deep breath. "Why haven't they come
back? I told you the truth. All of it. I swear."
"I don't know." Buffy turned her consciousness
inward and spoke to Marvin again. 'Tell Dawn to scream again. I could hear her
before.'
A few moments passed, filled with nothing but the sound
of thunder and rain around them. Buffy and Angel both stood perfectly still,
holding their breath, waiting.
"...FYYYYYY!"
The stunted scream had come from directly beneath them,
as if the kids were buried a few feet under the earth at their feet.
"DAWN? DAWN!" Buffy screamed, and dropped to
her knees. With a sob, she plunged her hands into the mud, scooping up handfuls
and tossing them away.
Angel stared at her, frozen by the nightmare vision of
his beloved, filthy and soaking wet, crying as she dug into the sodden earth.
"Don't just stand there, DIG!" she shrieked at
him.
He snapped out of his fog, but before he joined her, he
pulled out his cell and hit the emergency call button.
"Dispatch," the operator answered, "What's
your emergency?"
"This is Angel, clearance Buffy Anne,
And pray.
~
Faith and Robin returned to the office after hustling the
students into the miraculously un-flooded storm cellar, to find the remainder
of the group huddled around the floor-to-ceiling windows in the side entryway,
staring out into the rain.
"What's everyone looking at?" Wood asked.
"Did you find them?" Faith added.
Spike turned around, and there was no mistaking the tears
in his eyes in spite of his still-grim expression.
"We didn't," he replied, nodding back toward
the window. "But I think Catherine and Heathcliff
might have."
Faith pushed past the small throng to see what they were
all gawking at.
And found herself simultaneously shocked, disturbed and
touched to see Buffy and Angel, half drowning in the rain, side by side on
their knees, digging.
"Oh, God," Robin gasped as he took in the same
sight.
"What the Hell are you standing here for?"
Faith shouted. "Don't we have shovels in this heap somewhere?"
And with that, the group woke from their trance. Shovels
appeared like magick from the basement. Fred recalled
the dimensional team from the south lawn to join them. Ignoring the storm,
Willow ran outside, planted herself with arms fling to the sky, cried out for
someone to come ground her, and began to chant, trying to get a handle on the
weather.
Giles joined her, while Spike stood behind them, focusing
on chaining their energy to the Earth. The others rushed forward and began to
excavate around the spot where Buffy and Angel knelt.
It was useless. The more soil they hauled away, the more
the rain eroded the remainder and dumped it back into the hole.
"The void. They said there was a void!" Buffy
cried, realizing why the sound was so unsteady, "We have to get to
them!"
As if summoned by her frantic cry, the ground began to
rumble. An enormous earthmover plowed across the lawn toward them, followed by
an equally huge dump truck. The assembled heroes abandoned their task and got
out of the way. Angel automatically reached out and gave Buffy's hand a squeeze
as he ran off to meet the crew's foreman and give him instructions.
Buffy waited, watching, knowing that in this, at least,
she could count on him.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Fifteen by Duck
~
"I can't make it," Marvin moaned, and dropped
down against the wall beside where Dawn sat, cradling an insensible Ben in her
arms.
His screaming had reduced to a dull, constant whine,
which she didn't find any less disturbing than the horrible sobbing. She and
Marvin had both done their best to scale the wall to the vortex, but even with
all her Slayer workouts, without the Slayer strength, it just wasn't helping.
Marvin, unfortunately, wasn't hiding any surprising reserves of extraordinary
power, either.
They were trapped - and running out of number two pencils
from Marvin's pocket protector to stake vamps with. The initial onrush of
monsters had, at least, leveled off for the past few minutes, and there were no
sounds in the cave but the whoosh of the vortex above them, and the sound of
Ben's keening.
But who knew how long that would last? The caveman method
of self-defense wasn't getting the job done, and Ben didn't show any sign of
regaining his senses in the near future.
Suddenly, he stopped crying. Dawn gently caressed his
hair as he peered up at her with swollen eyes. The breakdown, combined with all
of his earlier injuries, only made his appearance more terrifying. But Dawn
could see the agony in his blue eyes beneath it all, and by that alone, she
found herself wanting to keep holding him, trying to give what little comfort
she could.
"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm so sorry for
everything."
"Shh," Dawn
whispered, "It's okay."
"No. No, you don't understand. It's not okay. I
killed her. I killed that girl. And Jasmine. Her head... her head was like a
melon. And my mother told me not to kill her, but Cordy
said I had to... And my father... what I did to him..."
"Shh," she repeated,
interrupting his senseless babbling. He was obviously delirious - she couldn't
imagine, no matter what had happened to him - that sweet, gentle Ben could kill
anyone. Or that Cordy would ask him to. "It
doesn't matter, Ben. It wasn't your fault."
He clutched at her desperately, as if she was his only
remaining link to sanity. "Please, don't leave me, Dawn. I need you."
Her own tears, which she had been holding back with sheer
force of will, finally broke free. "I won't leave you. I promise."
As he closed his eyes and buried his face in her belly,
arms clenched around her in a vise grip, she turned to Marvin.
The same pity and fear she was feeling marked his
freckled features.
"We have to get him out of here," she said.
"He needs help."
Somewhere in the distance, they heard a number of
creatures snarling. A pretty large number, by the sound of it.
"He's not the only one," Marvin observed,
handing Dawn a pencil as he once again began to gather rocks.
~
"We're through!" The foreman cried, and before
the words finished leaving his mouth, the crowd rushed forward, circling the
enormous pit the earthmover had dug.
"Holy shit!" Faith and Spike commented
together.
One of the all-too-familiar voids pulsed and crackled
beneath them, spitting electricity back and forth across the opening that
framed it, like some twisted cosmic pool. It spun in dizzy whirlpool circles
for several moments, then suddenly morphed into gray slate stone, perfectly
still and quiet.
Fred interpreted the readout on her flux generator, then
reported, "The void keeps phasing in and out of this dimension. It's not
stable."
As if in response to her observation, the earth beneath
them rumbled fiercely, forcing everyone to grab onto their neighbor to keep
from careening into the pit, and then, with a heinous ripping sound, the void
reappeared again.
As it did, Angel and Buffy caught sight of the cavern on
the other side, and its occupants below.
Marvin and Dawn stood back to back over Ben's prostrate
form, fighting three vampires with rocks... and what Angel could swear was a
pencil.
"DAWN!" Buffy screamed for what felt like the
billionth time that night, and jerked as though she meant to dive in. Angel
snatched her back away from the pit in a motion so fast, it appeared to the others
as though she had vanished and instantly manifested a few feet away, tethered
by his unbreakable grip. He shook her roughly.
"Are you crazy? You can't just jump in there!"
he screamed at her, "Didn't you hear Fred? The void's not stable! You
could end up locked in stone when it phases out again!"
She flung him off. "I don't care! We have to get
them out of there!"
"Buffy, let the rescue team do their work," he
urged gently. "Fred and her staff can stabilize the portal, and we can use
the motorized pulleys to haul them out."
Buffy stilled, the wisdom of his words finally breaking
through her panic. And then she remembered - his son was down there too, in
Gods knew what condition. That he could stay so calm and focused in the face of
that reminded her that she could, too. She snapped to her usual battle
mentality - do what had to be done. Period.
She stopped struggling and stepped away from Angel. When
he was certain she wasn't going to try again, he let go of her arm, and they
went back to join the others around the edge of the pit, watching Fred and the
dimensional specialists work their technological wonders, firing the flux
generators into the void.
For a moment, the electricity cleared, and Buffy heard
her sister calling, "Hurry, Buffy!"
The rescue team was quick - they took advantage of the
momentary reprieve to drop the rope system and three harnesses into the hole.
Strangely, it was Marvin who knew what to do with them (thanks to his Scout
training, he informed Buffy telepathically) and in no time had Dawn strapped
into one harness, then worked on his own.
"Ben!" Dawn shouted at the crumpled figure on
the ground beside her. "You have to get up!"
He sat with his back against the wall, rocking back and
forth, but didn't give any sign that he'd heard her.
"Is he hurt?" Angel yelled down.
"Um... no sir, not exactly!" Marvin replied.
'Something happened before,' he explained mentally to Buffy, 'One minute, he
was fine, climbing the wall like a monkey, and the next... he's been like this
ever since. He just... came apart.'
Buffy flicked a glance at her lover, and found him
staring expectantly back at her.
"What did he say?" Angel asked.
She was silent for a moment, unsure what she should tell
him. She was tempted to lie again, but... someone around here had to start
speaking truthfully if they were going to end this.
"Marvin said he just collapsed. He fell apart a
little while ago, and he's been like that since."
She had thought she'd seen misery on Angel's face before.
But that was nothing compared to the terror that haunted his features now.
"The spell," he whispered in horror. "When
I told you the story, it broke the spell. He remembers."
"We don't know that," Buffy tried to reassure
him. "We don't know what happened. He was already tired, and they've been
fighting..."
"B, I don't think that's helping," Faith
pointed out.
"Okay, we're ready!" Marvin called.
Buffy and Angel leaned back over the pit, and saw that
Marvin had hooked a harness onto Ben while Dawn held him up. Ben leaned against
her, but still seemed to be unaware of what was happening around him.
In spite of the burning dread that threatened to consume
him at the sight of his son in such a state, Angel told himself it didn't
matter. They just had to save his body, for now. The rest could come later.
The rescue squad clicked on the winches attached to the
ropes, and began hauling the trio painstakingly up toward the top.
Not a person present breathed - whether they normally
needed to or not. The kids drew toward the surface in what felt like slow
motion, inching toward the top. When they were less than ten feet from safety,
another quake hit, and the opening of the hole began to shimmer with
electricity once more.
"NO!" Angel bellowed, and this time, it was he
who dove toward the pit. Buffy and Faith both lunged for him, but he vanished
inside just as the opening morphed back into a void, then immediately turned to
stone one more, slicing off the ropes. The winches pulling on them groaned,
then snapped, killing the motors.
"ANGEL!" Buffy screamed.
'He's here!' Marvin called in her mind, 'He's fine!'
The Slayer sagged to her knees at the edge of the pit's
now slate cover. Fred frantically hit buttons on the generator, but nothing
happened.
She turned frightened eyes toward the others.
"They shorted out. I can't get a pulse," she
moaned.
The group stared at the slate and the prostrate Slayer
stretched over it in stunned silence.
"Leave it to them to have their bloody problems
manifest literally," Spike complained, then turned to the foreman of the
work crew. "Any a you got a jackhammer?"
~
It took Angel a moment to regain his senses after his
none too gentle landing on the cavern floor. As he pulled himself to his feet,
he barely had time to straighten up before he heard Dawn scream, followed by
the distinctive sound of a demonic growl behind him.
He spun to find himself face to face with a pair of
creatures like something that had crawled out of the deepest, blackest swamp in
the
Without a thought, he grabbed one around what passed for
its neck, twisting with all of his strength even as he landed a devastating
kick to the head of the other.
Twin snaps echoed through the chamber as the demons
crumpled to the ground.
Dawn rushed forward, grabbing him in a rib-crushing hug.
"Oh my God! I never thought I'd be so glad to see
you again!" she cried.
He hugged her quickly, and then turned his attention to
where Marvin stood. Beside him, Ben had taken his earlier position with his
knees curled up to his chest, back braced against the wall, rocking.
Angel gave Marvin a quick once over - other than the
thick layer of grime covering the seer, he looked fine, so he dropped to a
crouch beside his son.
Who looked so far from 'fine', he completely forgot to
breathe.
Slowly, he reached out to touch his son's trembling
shoulder.
"Con..." he swallowed the word and corrected
himself. "Benjamin?"
The boy didn't look at him, but instead, started
violently at his touch and began shaking his head furiously as if to deny the
nightmares burgeoning in his mind.
Angel had thought his heart was already as broken as it
could possibly be by the rejection of Buffy and his friends... the danger his
lies had put them all in... but he found out in that moment how wrong he was.
Ben's eyes - the most prominent feature he had inherited
from his mother - were vacant and wide, his skin mottled with darkening
bruises, swollen with tears, coated in blood. He clutched himself into a
defensive ball, his chin between his knees as every inch of his lean frame
shook.
It was almost worse than the nihilistic violence of his
last moments in the sporting goods store.
Angel couldn't help himself. He gathered his son's rigid
body in his arms an d held him.
"God, Connor," he murmured, kissing Ben's sweat
and blood-matted hair. "I love you. I'm so sorry."
"Sir, the portal!" Marvin cried, interrupting
the moment, "It's coming back!"
Reluctantly, Angel leaned his son against the wall and
stood, peering up at the fluctuating cavern ceiling. Just as Marvin said, the
rock was fading into the swirling energy of the vortex. He made out shadows on
the other side, and hoped beyond hope it was Buffy and the others, not some
demonic greeting party in another dimension.
He squelched his crushing emotions, and let his mind
clear. "Dawn, Marvin - get as close to the wall as you can. Marvin, please
tell Buffy to have Fred try and stabilize the energy flow on my mark. I'm going
to get the ropes up there."
Comforted by the presence of someone ready and willing to
take charge, the pair obeyed.
"Fred says they can't get a pulse on the generators.
Whatever happened when you jumped in here shorted them out!" the seer
cried when he finished his telepathic conversation.
Angel glanced at the two frightened, expectant faces, and
then down at his son.
"Okay. Marvin, have you marked the time intervals
between portal openings?" he asked, scooping Connor onto his back in a
fireman's carry.
"Of course! That was the first thing I did, sir! The
portal opens for a little less than three minutes before it shifts back to
solid rock."
Three minutes. Angel took measure of the wall's height -
well over forty feet, by his visual estimate and the pain in his back from the
fall. The surface, however, was rough, with plenty of edges for hand and foot
purchase. If he could just get the kids to the top, the others could easily
pull them out.
"Dawn, how much do you weigh?" he asked,
jogging over to join her and Marvin at the foot of the wall.
She automatically scowled at the question.
"Look, I'm sorry to be rude," Angel snapped,
"But I need to know!"
"107, okay?" she snapped back.
The vampire nodded, adding that to the equation he was
working in his head.
"Marvin?"
"135, sir."
He estimated Connor to be slightly more than that. 392
pounds, 47 feet...
"Put your arms around my neck and hold on!" he
shouted at them, grabbing the ends of their ropes and wrapping them around his
arms. "Marvin, tell Buffy to be ready to haul the three of you up when the
void opens again."
"But sir..." the psychic began to object,
unable to see how even the venerable Mr. Angel could carry all of that weight
on his back.
"Just do it!" he barked.
Dawn and Marvin scrambled over and latched onto him like
monkeys without another word. Angel waited until the stone ceiling reappeared,
gathered his strength, and jumped upward, immediately finding precarious
purchase on the jagged walls, and started climbing.
He barely noticed the blood that ran down his arms as his
hands tore open on the rocks.
"Don't let go," he grunted, ignoring the pain,
and pulled.
~
As the void flickered open again, Buffy cried out in relief
to see Angel painstakingly scaling the wall only six feet down, with Dawn, Ben,
and some kid she'd never seen before (presumably Marvin the Seer) hanging from
his back. The rescue team immediately sprang into action, forming a human chain
with the largest of the men dangling headfirst into the pit. Buffy dove to the
ground beside them, and felt Faith's hands grip her ankles to get the others.
"We've got about 35 seconds left!" Angel cried.
"Take Connor!"
The head of the rescue team's chain grasped the boy by
the hand that Angel pushed upward, and with a furious yank, pulled him out.
Buffy grabbed Dawn by the edge of her harness and did the same. Once they were
on solid ground, the chain of Faith, Spike and Wood dropped back down to get
Marvin. Once free of the kids' weight, Angel worked with torn hands to pull
himself up the rest of the way. Buffy let go of Dawn and took hold of his
slick, bloody
hands as they clamped over the lip of the pit.
Then they heard the telltale crackle of the portal about
to shift.
"ANGEL, HURRY!" Buffy screamed, pulling with
all of her might as the ground began to quake.
The wind picked up once again as the tremor increased and
the crackling grew louder. Angel and Buffy were eye-to-eye, both keenly aware
that in seconds, he would be sliced neatly in half by the vortex if they didn't
get him out.
But with all of the emotions of the past few weeks and
the incredible physical feat he had just performed, Angel couldn't seem to find
the strength - or the will - to pull any harder.
Buffy saw it in his eyes. Resignation. Surrender to
death. She knew it too well not to take it seriously.
"DON'T YOU GIVE UP ON ME!" she shrieked.
"Angel, you have to pull!"
Then she felt two strong hands grasp her angles once again,
and yank. In a moment, she, Angel and Spike were piled in a heap on the grass a
few feet from the pit.
With a final, earth-shattering boom, the vortex
reappeared, then immediately closed into stone. The storm abruptly ceased, and
the area where the disturbance had occurred returned to smooth, unblemished
earth once more.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, with a roar of fury,
Spike leapt up, jumped on Angel's chest, and began raining blows on the
unresisting vampire's face.
"You stupid, selfish son of a bitch!" he
screamed. "You fucking BASTARD!"
After a moment of frozen shock, Buffy tackled the enraged
blond, and the pair went flying across the ground. When the momentum let them
roll to a halt, both clamored to their feet, staring each other down.
"Get out of my way, Buffy!" he snarled.
"What the Hell do you think you're doing!?" she
screamed at him.
"Giving that fucker the pounding he so richly
deserves," he shouted back. "His stupid bullshit almost killed
Bit!"
"It's not your place to punish him," Buffy
murmured, suddenly too bone-weary to fight anymore. She turned away from Spike
just in time to watch Angel approach Benjamin, who stood, seemingly conscious
and lucid again, leaning heavily on Dawn.
"Connor..." he said.
The boy's eyes snapped up to him, blazing with anger,
clear for the first time since his memory began to return and nearly crush him
in the caverns.
"My name is *Ben*," he snapped, and the pair
began to stumble back toward the school.
Angel faced the others once more, but could find nothing
to say. One by one, they turned their backs on him, until only Faith, Spike,
and Buffy remained.
"I'm not done with you yet," Spike warned, then
followed the others, muttering, "Not by a long fucking shot."
Angel looked at Buffy with pleading eyes, willing her to
understand... to forgive.
But for the first time in all of the years that she had
known him - loved him with every ounce of her being - she felt... nothing. A
gaping hole was all that remained in her heart where he had once lived. Whether
it was the overwhelming shock of everything they'd just been through, or a
permanent void where real resentment and hatred could take root, she was too
tired to be sure. There was only one thing she was certain of, right now.
"Don't come back here again," she told him
without meeting his eyes, her voice as cold and flat as the emptiness inside of
her. "I don't want to see you anymore. Ever."
And with that, Angel watched helplessly as his life's
only love turned and walked away. Tears streamed down his filthy cheeks,
splashing into the mud at his feet as the last tiny light of hope blinked out
in his heart. The world crumbled beneath him and fell away, leaving him adrift
in a sea of nothing.
Faith felt his pain so acutely, it almost made her
stumble, but she forced herself to move beside him, gently resting a hand on
his shoulder. When she had been lost in darkness with no one to care, Angel
had. He had risked everything because he believed in her. She could do no differently
for him now.
"Hey. Why don't you come on up to my room and we'll
get those hands fixed up?" she offered softly, knowing full well that his
physical wounds were the last thing on his mind.
"It doesn't matter," he whispered, stunned to
near paralysis with the consuming sensation of utter loss, but let the Slayer
lead him toward the back entrance of the school, wondering dully if anything
would ever matter again.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Sixteen by Ducks
~
*One Week Later*
He tried his damnedest to ignore the persistent knock on
his door, but after 20 or so minutes of it, his neighbors began to shout
threats of violence, including a few detailing exactly how they planned to
amputate the knocker's hands, so he finally pushed his need for solitude aside
and got up to answer it.
After all, this wasn't the best neighborhood, and the
last thing he needed was more blood on his hands.
Her tiny fist stopped a quarter of an inch from knocking
on his nose when he opened the door.
"Uh... hi," she said, blushing. "Can I,
um... talk to you for a minute?"
Saying nothing, he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting her
in without giving any clue as to how he felt about seeing her again. She made a
beeline for the living room and sat down on the couch with her eyes cast to the
floor, hands clutched so fiercely in her lap, her knuckles went white.
"Look," she began before he'd even finished
sitting down. "I know you're upset about what happened the other night,
and you said you wanted some time alone to think things through. I totally
don't blame you. I wouldn't have come now, but... I left like six thousand
messages, and you haven't called me back, so... I just wanted to make sure you
were okay."
Ben sat back in his chair, reeling from her unexpected
visit... and her nervous babbling. "I'm fine, Dawn."
Slowly, she glanced up to meet his gaze, her face marked
with relief. "Oh, good. I mean... Dr. Eshley
said you took a leave from school, so I thought..." she swallowed stiffly.
"I was worried, that's all. I know this... has been, uh... hard. For
you."
"I'm fine," he repeated, doing his best to give
her a smile - there hadn't been a lot of them in his repertoire lately, and it
wasn't easy to generate one now... even for her. "I just have a lot to
process. I can't really concentrate on school until I have."
She nodded. "I understand. I just... I wanted to
tell you, I do know what you're going through. And... if you need to talk, I'm
here."
Ben's smile vanished. "Thanks. But - no offense - I
don't think finding out you're adopted is exactly in the same league as
discovering your parents are vampires, that you were kidnapped by a
time-traveler bent on revenge, and that you murdered people in order to help a
monster be born by the woman your father was manipulated into having feelings
for."
"I wasn't adopted," Dawn blurted out. "I
told you that because the truth is just... too weird. And I really wanted you
to like me. Ben... I didn't even
*exist* until four years ago. Or... I guess maybe I
existed, but... I wasn't human."
Of all the things Ben might have imagined she would
say... that wasn't even in the same galaxy as his list of possibilities. The
grim expression she wore told him that not only was what she'd just said the
truth... but she wasn't at all exaggerating.
As a result, he said nothing.
Taking his silence as her cue to go on, Dawn got up and
began pacing back and forth across his living room.
"I'm still not completely clear on exactly *what* I
was, or where I came from, or why, except... I guess in one of the nastier
demon dimensions, some of the gods tossed out this one god who was, like,
*really* crazy. Psycho-murderer crazy. And they locked her into a human host in
this dimension, so she would lose her power, and locked the place down behind
her. But for whatever reason - because personally, I think it was a really
stupid move - they made a Key. It was like... a ball of energy. And these monks
who guarded it knew if she - the exiled psycho god, her name was Glory - got
hold of the Key, that'd be it for Earth. Boom, sucked right into Hell. So they made
the key into a human being - me - and sent me to the one place where they knew
I would be safe. With the Slayer. And to make sure she would do anything to
protect me, they made me her sister. Right out of her flesh and blood. They
changed everybody's memories so they would think I was there all along. And
so..." she finally stopped, took a deep breath, and met his wide-eyed
gaze. "I do - totally - know how you feel. A lot of people died because of
me. Including my sister."
Ben was sitting, rigid with shock by the end of her
rambling story, and when she concluded, had to remind himself to start
breathing again.
"I have absolutely no idea what to say," he
confessed.
With a sigh, Dawn sat back down on the end of the couch
closest to him, reached out to take his hand, and looked him straight in the
eye.
"You don't have to say anything, Ben," she
assured him, "I only told you the truth because I want to make sure you
know - I'm here for you. And I understand. That's all."
Ben stared down at their entwined hands. Hers was so
small, tipped with perfectly manicured nails in a soft, bubble gum pink - the
color of innocence. He wondered at that little detail - how she could be so
sweet, so compassionate, when she had seen so much horror in her own life.
It gave him hope that maybe he could find peace again,
too.
"I was thinking, just before you came, of how
twisted fate can be," he murmured, drawing his eyes up to meet hers once
more. "All of the things that had to happen 'just so' in all of our lives
to get us here together. Hearing your story just... makes it all the more
miraculous."
"Miraculous?" she asked with a chuckle,
"That's not really a word I thought you would use to describe all
this."
He smiled. "Yeah, well... I've had some time to
think about it. I could be angry. Maybe I should be. I could let it destroy me,
or... I could be grateful that I was lucky enough to have people care that much
about me. So much that they would sacrifice everything for my well being. They
gave me a second chance at life. It seems a shame to waste it resenting things
that can't be changed now."
It was hard for Dawn not to beam at his statement. She
had just assumed the fugue he fell into that night in the pit would remain...
that she would find him holed up here with the shades drawn and his sanity
obliterated forever.
Or at least, that had been her worst nightmare of what
she would find.
Instead, here he was, a man grappling with two completely
divergent pasts, two sets of opposing memories, two destinies as different as
humanly possible, with every reason to carry a general grudge against the
world... and he was smiling at her, telling her how grateful he was for the
gift.
Funny, because that was exactly how she had come to feel
about her life over the past couple of years.
"You should try telling my sister that," she
said. "Buffy hasn't said more than ten words in the past week. I think
she's having a lot harder time forgiving than either of us."
He shrugged. "Can you really blame her? She almost
lost you because of what my father did. I'd be angry too. And besides - just
because I understand why he did it doesn't mean I'm ready to talk to him or
forgive him any more than your sister is."
That part really didn't surprise her. In fact, as far as
she knew, no one except Faith had made any effort to speak to Angel since the
incident with the vortex. Even Wes and Fred had distanced themselves from their
boss, attending only required staff meetings, and quickly coming and going from
those like any other employees.
Everybody had more or less abandoned the vampire they had
once considered a friend and ally. The more time that passed, and the more Dawn
thought about the position he'd been in, the sorrier she had come to feel for
her sister's estranged boyfriend. She'd tried to tell Buffy that no less than a
dozen times over the past week, but... her sister had shut her down with a
glare and a curt "I told you I don't want to hear his name again,"
every time.
Buffy's misery would have been bad enough, but... if what
she had overheard at the meeting between the school staff and Wesley was right,
the Convergence wasn't close to being over. So obviously the truth about Ben
coming out, and everything being left just hanging at this angry, silent impasse
wasn't enough to solve the problem.
Hence her visit to Ben's place. If he could make
overtures of forgiveness... anybody could. Even her brokenhearted sister.
"I know this isn't exactly my business, but...
maybe... you should talk to him," she suggested, hoping he wouldn't kick
her out for being completely out of line, "I mean... the Convergence
stuff... the voids and everything... they're still happening."
"Not to me," he corrected, then gave a deep
sigh. "Actually, I've been thinking about that too. My theory is... do you
want to hear my theory?"
Dawn nodded. Heck, she'd be willing to listen to him read
the blurbs on the Weather Channel.
"None of us really know the whole truth," he
began, "Even me. My memories are... sort of spotty at best. And if your
sister isn't talking to Angel, chances are she still doesn't know everything,
either. And from what I understand - which admittedly isn't all that much - the
situation has to be worked through to its conclusion in order to be solved, right?"
"Yeah. Or at least, that's the way it's worked
before."
He took a moment to gaze out the window. "I need to
know. I don't think I can get on with my life until I do." He looked into
her sweet blue eyes once again. "Was it like that for you?"
Dawn snorted at his understatement. "Let's just say,
Buffy calls that time my "Meta-Tantrum". But, in my own defense, I
*was* 15. And... sort of a brat. But yeah, I did need to know everything."
He gave her a half smile, and for the first time, Dawn could
completely see the resemblance between him and Angel.
And completely got her sister's lifelong obsession.
"I don't suppose you have his number?" Ben
inquired.
~
His life had once again been reduced to dreary monotony -
even the nightly, ongoing fight to force back the wave of violent chaos the
Convergence continued to foist on the world seemed like nothing but impotent
habit.
It was all meaningless, now. Without Buffy and his family
beside him, he was simply going through the motions without thought, without
feeling... without hope.
And the worst part of it was, there was no one to blame
but himself. By not trusting the people who trusted him... by not having faith
in the people he loved, he had summarily brought his world to a crashing halt.
As usual.
He fingered the small courier's envelope that had
ironically arrived just that morning as he stared out at his skyline. Two first
class tickets to
Attempt to assuage his guilt for lies she hadn't yet been
aware of then with bribery.
Spike was right. He was a selfish, shortsighted bastard.
With a last pang of regret for all that was lost, he
tossed the tickets in the trash and turned his attention back to the same task
that had consumed so much of the past two and half years.
Unraveling Wolfram & Hart one case file at a time.
He ignored the insistent buzz of the intercom. There was
no one at the firm who would want to see him that he cared about - especially
Michael. One more look of hound-eyed pity from his assistant, and there was no
telling what violence he might commit.
The last thing he wanted - or deserved - was anyone
feeling sorry for him.
The buzzer continued ripping through his brain until *it*
threatened to push him over the edge. He slammed on the "Answer" key.
"What is it, Michael?" he snapped.
"Sir, there's someone here to see you."
"Still having trouble with the concept of 'do not
disturb', are you?"
"No, sir... but... this young man says it's very
important."
Angel snarled to himself. "I don't care how
important it is. Tell him to make a report to the appropriate unit, and I'll
review it at my convenience, all right?"
He could practically hear Michael grumbling to himself.
"Certainly. I'll make sure to inform *your son* of the proper
protocol."
Angel sat up ramrod straight in his seat. Connor? Of all
the people the vampire actually *did* wish would stop by his office, he was the
last one Angel actually expected.
"Send him in."
He found himself unconsciously checking his hair,
straightening his tie, smoothing out his slacks as he stood, and nearly
laughed.
He had built the boy's life on pain and lies. Surely his
appearance wouldn't even register on his son's list of concerns.
The door opened, and Connor marched resolutely into the
office, proud and determined. His fierce, resolute expression reminded Angel so
acutely of Darla, he nearly had to sit down again.
For a moment, the two men stared at one another in
silence, neither certain where to begin.
Angel decided it best to start - for a change - with the
simple truth.
"I'm glad to see you, Benjamin."
It was such a plain statement, but the emotions behind it
so obviously complex, the words took on an unfathomable depth as they hung in
the air between them.
Ben didn't fail to notice, and it was the least he could
do to nod his acknowledgement of the admission from a man he had learned was
slow to share his feelings with anyone... let alone a near perfect stranger.
"Have a seat," Angel offered, gesturing toward
one of the chairs. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, thanks," the young man replied.
They sat, and the silence descended once more as Ben
gathered his thoughts.
"I had all of these things I wanted to say to you...
that I understand why you did what you did. And that you did it for me. That...
I honestly can't hold it against you. You did the best you could under very bad
circumstances, and really gave me a chance at a good life I might never have
had otherwise. So... thank you for that."
Angel fought back a tidal wave of tears that threatened
at hearing those particular words from this particular person. There was a very
long list of people whose forgiveness he would have given anything to have...
but Connor took the field by far.
He could tell, however, that there was more. More that he
might not be so happy to hear.
"Thank you," he replied with all sincerity.
"That means a great deal to me."
Ben smiled wryly. "It wasn't all good. There were a
few screaming tantrums and a lecture about free will, also, but... you seem
like a pretty self-aware person, so that part's probably redundant."
"That's generous of you," Angel responded,
returning the sardonic smile. "And you're right. There isn't much by way
of admonishment I haven't already served myself."
"So, barring all of that, what's left is me...
asking for your help."
It was all Angel could do not to leap up on the desk and
do a jig - that his son would come to him to ask for anything seemed a greater
blessing than even the tiniest hopeful corner of his soul could have dreamed
of.
"Of course. Anything."
Ben looked into his father's eyes as he made that vow,
and knew definitely for the first time that Angel truly was what Marvin had
sworn up and down - a hero. Noble, honest, and about as well intentioned as
anyone could be.
It was a small truth, really... but it instantly made him
feel better.
"I need to know all of it," he began, "A
lot of things have come back to me on their own, but... they're just pictures.
Disjointed, like dream images, you know? And there are a lot of things missing
that connect them into a complete story. I was hoping you would help me fill in
the blanks."
Angel frowned at that. "Ben... maybe if you haven't
remembered everything... it's for a good reason."
The younger man shrugged. "That could very well be,
but... it was my life, wasn't it? And I think I have a right to have all of it
back." He held Angel's increasingly worried gaze, willing this stranger
who was his progenitor to understand his need. "Will you help me?"
Angel paused for a moment, considering the ramifications
of what his son was asking - to reclaim possession of all the parts of his life
that had been obliterated by the reality spell. All the pain... all the loss...
all the horror that had turned Connor into the twisted wreck of a child he had
been at the end.
Was he willing to heap all of that on this apparently
strong and stable young man? More importantly - was it his place to refuse?
"Let me make some calls," he replied after a
time. "I'm sure I can come up with something. If you're sure."
In spite of his concerns, his son's relieved smile
convinced him that for once he really was doing the right thing.
"I'm sure. Thanks."
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Seventeen by Ducks
~
Buffy's attack was quick, vicious... and nearly took
Spike's head right off his shoulders. He leapt back and parried with fairly
near his old vamp speed and agility, allowing the sting of her sword slamming
into his ring up and down his arms before he let the tip fall and stepped away
from her.
"You do know we're *sparring*, right?" he
hollered, "No one is supposed to lose any *body parts* in
*sparring*!"
"Sorry," she muttered with a complete absence
of sincerity, and wandered over to the bench to claim her water bottle.
Still reeling more than a little from his third
near-death experience that morning, Spike watched her, scowling at her back as
she drank.
If he was forced to tell the truth - and that force would
have to involve some very *nasty* torture techniques - he'd say that the
post-Angelus Slayer was so bloody unpleasant, it made the absence of his least
favorite asshole on the planet almost not worth it. She had become thoroughly
sullen, mean and silent most of the time, and he couldn't remember her smiling
even once in the past nine days.
The irony of the fact that he now had Buffy more or less
to himself - and to put it mildly, didn't care for her company - was enough to
make him spit.
But he'd be damned if he spoke up for the bastard. Angel
had gotten exactly what he asked for - less, in fact, than Spike thought he
deserved. Even if he would half-rather push this nasty, mean-tempered bitch off
a cliff than practice sword fighting with her, some part of him still grieved
on her behalf.
"Don't start," she barked as she turned around
to lay her now-characteristic glare on him.
"I'm not starting a bloody thing!" he bit back.
"'Cept thinking what a sodding
*bitch* you've been over the past week!"
Her expression turned downright scary. "I'm not in a
good mood, okay? The building inspector's report is due back in *two* days -
which we all know is going to put us out on the streets, since the money we
came up with won't even *begin* to fix the plumbing, and now *seven* girls are
down with the 'flu. Do you know how bad a virus has to be to take down
*Slayers*? The doctor Giles brought in isn't exactly *cheap*, you know, being
about the only living Slayer physiology expert left alive in the known
*universe*!"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's definitely your
problem. It's got nothing to do with the absence of a certain overbearing,
sanctimonious shithead, I'm sure!"
As he finished saying it, he nearly kicked himself.
Apparently, his subconscious wasn't nearly as ambivalent about the reason for
Buffy's sour new personality as the rest of his brain.
"You know what, Spike? You *really* need to learn to
mind your own BUSINESS!" she snarled, and stomped off toward the school.
Naturally, being the stupid asswipe
he was, he followed - and kept arguing with her.
"Listen, Slayer. You're obviously a miserable basketcase, and you're obviously gonna stay that way until
you have a knock down drag out with Angelus. We all know you're gonna patch it
up sooner or later anyway, so why waste time trying to chop my head off when
you can gut *his* sorry ass? He'd probably *thank* you for it!"
Buffy kept right on walking into the gym, straight
through the class in progress, and toward the fire stairs on the far side,
ignoring the gaping stares of the girls as they passed.
Keeping up with her was a damn chore now that he was
human, and though he'd be buggered if he knew why, Spike did it anyway.
"So he lied! Big effin'
deal! Even *I* can see he didn't have a choice. He didn't know this Convergence
thing was gonna cut in on his plan!"
Buffy screeched to a halt and spun on him.
"That's exactly *why* I don't want to talk to him!
If Dawn and the others hadn't nearly *died*, Angel would *never* have told me
about his son! That doesn't exactly qualify him for the Honorable Boyfriend of
the Year Award! So DROP IT, or the next time I take a swing at you, I WON'T
MISS!!!"
"Fine, little Miss It's-All-About-Me! You go ahead
and hold that grudge then. But I'm DONE being your fucking punching bag! Spar
with Andrew from now on!"
With that, Spike slammed through the first floor door
behind her, leaving Buffy in the stairwell, alone with a consuming rage that
hadn't faded even the smallest bit since the night Angel's lies had almost cost
her her sister.
Was she being irrational? Absolutely. She knew it, and
she didn't care. Angel had his reasons for doing what he did... and so did she.
She would rather spend 24 hours a day fighting the Convergence by herself for
the rest of her life that hash *anything* out with him. If he was willing to
put the world - including her and his own family - in jeopardy by lying about
something *so* fundamental... how could she ever trust anything he said or did
again?
She couldn't. Hence the silence. There was nothing Angel
could say to her now that could repair that most basic fundamental trust. It
was over. End of sob story.
Her office was blessedly empty when she got there - a
nice change from the seemingly constant parade of friends and family chastising
her for being so unforgiving. Even Dawn had taken Angel's side. Every time she
saw her sister, Dawn was spouting crap about how it was *her* life on the line,
so if she forgave Angel, why couldn't Buffy? And Faith was the worst - she was
like a one-woman freaking cheerleading squad: Angel had done so much good,
Angel loved Buffy so much, Angel would never do anything to hurt her if he
could help it. Angel, Angel, Angel, blah blah blah.
Frankly, the more everyone pushed, the more deeply she
dug into her position. She never had been much good at taking orders... or,
really, even suggestions that might actually have some merit.
Buffy plunked down in her desk chair and settled in for a
good, long brood while completely not reading the Demon Psych essays she had to
finish grading by Friday.
Giles found her like that a few minutes later, after
running into a surly Spike in the kitchen. She sat silent and glowering at the
pile of papers on her desk blotter, so lost in her thoughts that she didn't
hear him knock.
Or perhaps she had, and simply chose not to respond,
remaining off somewhere in the angry little world she had built for herself
since the night of the storm.
"Buffy," he called softly.
She looked up at him, and the emptiness in her eyes made
him flinch.
"You know, between you and the girls, I'm starting
to wonder why I even bother closing doors anymore," she grumped.
"What is it, Giles? And before you answer that, if it's about Angel -
forget it. If it's about Angel's money - forget that too. I sent it back. I'd
rather be homeless than take a
*cent* from him. End of discussion. Thanks for stopping
by."
Giles raised an eyebrow at her snippy, childish attitude,
but said nothing. For one thing, it was hardly the first - or the hundredth -
time Buffy had acted like a spoiled brat in the years he had known her, and for
another...
He could see her pain so clearly behind the façade, it
tore his heart nearly in two. Giles had never been the greatest proponent of
Buffy and Angel's ironic relationship when she was younger... for too many
reasons to recall, now. Primarily, though, because she *was* so young. But in
the recent months since the lovers had been reunited, he had been more than a
little impressed - and, frankly, relieved - to see that the mature people they
had become complimented one another so beautifully. He had never seen Buffy as
happy in all the years he'd known her.
Truthfully, her reaction to their rift was a bit less
dramatic than it could have been. But no less devastating.
Hence his visit. He sat in one of the chairs across from
her without waiting for an invitation. After a moment, she looked up.
"And yet, you're still here," she observed.
Giles regarded her evenly. "I've just spoken to
him."
Buffy sighed. "It's funny how the more I ask my
family not to talk about Angel, the more they do. It's like an irony virus - even
Spike's got it. It's way worse than the 'flu."
"I realize that you're upset and disappointed with
Angel, Buffy, but... we must remember that there are more pressing matters at
hand than our personal feelings. Clearly, his telling you the truth about Benjamin
isn't the end of your current quest," he began, hoping that focusing on
practical, apocalyptic matters might help circumvent her stubbornness.
She said nothing in reply, so he pressed on.
"He theorizes that perhaps the effects of the
reality spell didn't dissipate completely when he told the story, as Benjamin
has not yet regained all of his memories - and we are all well aware that the
Convergence is still in effect. He's done some further research, and has
discovered a possible remedy that requires your participation."
Buffy closed her eyes and let her head fall back against
the chair. "Of course he did." She sighed and looked at her mentor
once more. "What kind of remedy?"
Giles stifled the urge to smile at the crack in her
resistance. Certainly, if Buffy agreed to Angel's rather radical proposal, the
rest would work itself out naturally. As much as he knew she loved the vampire,
it was inevitable - like the draw of magnet to iron.
"Another spell - this one to shift loose any remaining
blocks to Benjamin's original history. It must include anyone who was directly
touched by it, including yourself."
The Slayer stared at him for a long time, chewing her lip
as she considered it. "Fine. It's not like we have much choice. When and
where?"
"Tonight - it's the dark moon - at his apartment.
Wesley and Fred have already agreed to take part, as has Mr. Gunn.
Buffy shrugged. "Great. We can get it done and move
on with our lives. Nice of you to work out the details before you even asked
me. Thanks."
He was tempted - sorely so - to shout at her to stop
being such a... difficult person. But he reminded himself yet again that her
behavior was defensive - and that her shutting down was preferable to some of
the other 'coping methods' she had chosen over the years.
"You're quite welcome," he replied with his own
understated sarcasm. "As I was certain you would do the right thing,
however unreasonable your recent behavior."
Her face scrunched into a fiercely petulant scowl.
"Unreasonable? Well, it's great to know that you think expecting honesty
from the closest person in the world to me is 'unreasonable'. And please don't
give me the 'forgiveness isn't granted because it's deserved' lecture again,
either. I never asked Angel for *anything*, *except* honesty. We agreed to that
after what happened with Spike to avoid *exactly* what's happening now. So,
yeah, I take his lying to me then - and again and *again* since -- as a pretty
hefty slap in the face. My sister could have *died*, Giles! All of us could
have died because *he* planted that ticking time bomb right in the middle of us
without even bothering with a *warning*! So excuse me if I don't feel
particularly forgiving!"
Giles regarded the woman before him... the heroine he had
known and loved for so many years, who he had seen grow from a willful child
to... a willful young woman.
"We all make unfortunate choices in the name of
love, Buffy. You and I no more and no less than anyone else."
She snorted. "Yeah, Giles. You do a lot of stepping
over lines."
"You don't think so? Well...." he tugged off
his glasses, cleaned them, and replaced them before going on. "You are, I
assure you, quite mistaken. The love of a child, especially, is something quite
beyond the realm of reason. There are few lengths to which a parent wouldn't go
-- killing or dying for them is nothing. Ass you well know from your own experience
with Dawn, I would think. Would you really hold Angel to a higher standard than
you hold yourself? Think about the choices you made to save Dawn. Could your
death not have caused unfathomable chaos, no matter how pure your intentions?
You didn't even know for certain that sacrificing your life would stop the
apocalypse, did you? And yet, when caught in the moment of truth, you gave up
your own existence so that your sister might have a chance - however slim. How
different was that, truly, from what Angel did on behalf of his son?"
Buffy stared down at her desk, but said nothing. Giles
knew her well enough to understand, although her dark expression didn't shift,
that something in her heart was hearing him, even if her will refused to bend.
"I've done things for you that went against
everything I was taught. Everything that I believe in. Because I love you as I
would a child of my own blood," he added, getting up, "And I would do
every single one of them in exactly the same way, without qualm or apology,
just to see you sitting where you are right this moment. We'll be leaving at
He headed for the door, and paused one last time. "I
hope that you'll consider what I've said, and put yourself in Angel's position.
It seems a shame to throw away a chance to spend your life with the person you
love... who loves you in equal measure...simply because of mistakes made under
less than ideal circumstances."
Buffy waited until his footsteps faded down the hall
before she let her head drop to the desk, and her defensive wall melt into an
ocean of tears.
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Eighteen by Ducks
~
Fred nearly had to hogtie Wesley and drag him to Angel's
apartment in order to arrive a few minutes before the others. They had spent
much of the day talking - wondering what else was in store for them if Angel's
spell worked.
Wondering how much of themselves and their lives would
change when they regained their memories.
She had told Wesley that it didn't matter. What was done
was done, and all they could do now was accept that fact and move forward.
Angel was still their friend. Maybe his choices had been unwise. Maybe he
hadn't thought it all through before he altered their memories. Maybe... a lot
of unpleasant things. But he had sacrificed for all of them in one way or
another over the years, and even if they were marching together down the road
to Hell... the pavement should count for something, right? Especially when it
came to the well-being of someone's child.
He had finally relented, and now, as Angel welcomed them
into his vast, airy penthouse, she was the one who was starting to feel a
little less sanguine about it all.
What didn't she know about herself? How much of her life
had been lost? Would she still be Fred when she got it all back? Would she
still be able to look Angel or Wes in the eye when she knew the truth? Would
any of them?
She and Wesley accepted generous dollops of whiskey in
their tea as they all sat down, and to her surprise, he immediately took the
helm of their conversation.
"You should know, Angel... I had very seriously
considered tendering my resignation tonight," he began.
Angel sat straight and tall in his chair, obviously
already prepared for any harsh words his friends might have in store for him.
And she found herself full of pity for him because of it as he stoically faced
this emotional firing squad.
"I understand," he said. "In fact, I'm
surprised that you haven't already done so."
"I haven't because... however angry I might be with
you for the particular choices you've made - especially considering their
direct effect upon Fred and myself -- the simple fact is..." He took a
deep breath and set down his teacup, afraid he might spill it all over the expensive
carpet because of his trembling hands. "Fred is quite right in reminding
me that I would probably have done no differently in your place. To say that
the circumstances were difficult is a drastic understatement, and so... if
forgiveness is truly necessary here, then I must forgive you for doing the best
that you could for your child under those circumstances."
A distant cousin to a smile touched Angel's lips, but
faded as quickly as it appeared. "Thank you, Wesley. But... you may want
to wait on that until you know the whole story. Ben has regained some of his
memories... and I've told all of you some of the rest. But there's still a lot
none of you know... as you correctly guessed the other night."
"Like what?" Fred questioned. "Maybe you
should give us a clue so we're not totally blindsided by the spell."
The vampire glanced quickly at her and then came back to
Wesley. "I wouldn't know where to begin. Suffice it to say... you may not
be so quick to forgive when you know the truth. Nothing about Connor's life has
been easy - for any of us. And... our behavior..." he held his friend's
gaze with such intensity, Fred knew what he was about to say would be a
diplomatically gross understatement. "Some of it, I imagine... isn't
necessarily something to be proud of. At least, I know that's true of
myself."
"Good God, man!" Wesley cried. "What is
that supposed to mean? 'Our behavior'? How could you say something like that
without having mentioned it before! How can you not tell us now?"
"Because," Angel replied evenly. "None of
it makes sense out of context. You
*have* to know everything before you can understand how
things were when Connor was born. Believe me, I acted..." he trailed off.
"Some of the things I did without all of the facts make me ashamed, even
now."
Wesley opened his mouth to object once again, but a loud
'POP!' on the other side of the room interrupted him. The trio's eyes swung to
the sliding doors that led to Angel's patio.
"Hey all," greeted Gunn, casually striding into
the room, looking for all the world like the same old guy they'd known for
years... instead of the mystical being charged with guarding the sun that he'd
become. "How's things here on Earth?"
Fred, Wes and Angel all gaped at him. He strolled to the
bar and helped himself to a bottle of Bud from the mini-fridge, took a long
gulp and gave a satisfied smack of his lips, then grinned at his friends.
"Damn, it's good to be home," he declared, and
came to join them. "So. I hear the time's come for the fam
to learn to the truth about our boy, huh?"
"You... know?" Angel whispered, suddenly unable
to find his voice.
Gunn gave him a 'duh' look. "Man, I know everything.
Brain's a whole lot bigger than it used to be. Not to mention my range of
vision." he looked slowly from one of his comrades to the next, finally
settling his gaze on Angel. It was hard to miss the fact that their friend's
eyes had changed from their customary warm brown to an unmistakably feline dark
honey gold.
"I know all kinds of things."
Fred couldn't stop staring, goggle eyed, at her ex.
Had he always been this hot?
He gave her a wink. "Sure I have," he replied
to her thoughts. "But I'm not exactly a witch with long red hair,
so..."
Angel and Wesley both stared at Fred in confusion.
"What? I... I haven't... I mean... I don't... God,
Charles!" she yelped.
"Oh, please. Like it wasn't obvious the first time
you laid eyes on each other," he teased. "Though I guess no one was
really paying attention at the time."
"My..." Wesley mumbled as he realized whom Gunn
was referring to. He'd noticed the sparks between the women as well, but had
never given it a serious thought. "That's... unexpected..."
"What? What's unexpected?" Angel inquired,
totally lost when it came to his friends' personal relationships - as usual.
"Fred, are you seeing someone? Who is he? Why didn't you mention
him?"
"I... because..." she glared at Gunn.
"This isn't the time, and there's nothing to tell anyway!"
"Yet," he amended with a smirk. "Like I said:
I know things."
Before the conversation could go any further, the
security intercom buzzed at the front door.
"I'll get it!" Fred trilled, running for the
door, thanking the Powers for the escape. She didn't even have her own feelings
about
Wesley stared uncomfortably into his tea. Angel stared at
Gunn, still befuddled.
Then suddenly, he gasped. "Hold on! Are you talking
about *
"I imagine when all of us were busy paying attention
to other atrocities," Wesley mumbled.
~
The ritual itself was simple, and similar, at least in
form, to the one they had performed for Spike a few months before. They sat in
a circle around Benjamin, who, to his great embarrassment, clutched a bouquet
of cheerful forget-me-nots.
Buffy was required to sit next to Angel, hold his hand
and concentrate on the concept of truth. But mostly, she was trying *not* to
concentrate on how good he smelled. How strong and big his hand felt in hers.
How tired his beautiful face looked...
And most of all, how much she missed him.
But all of that was wiped away when the magick finally peaked, sending everyone present flying into
a blaze of golden light in their respective psyches. After the initial
blindness passed, images began to roll - hundreds upon thousands of moments
long lost in each of their lives. Months and years they had forgotten. Connor's
life, from the moment he was conceived to the moment Angel slit his throat to
activate the spell that created Benjamin Brannen. The
pictures, the sounds, the smells and tastes, the emotions all blended together
and thrust forcefully into their hearts and memories, like a hundred motion
pictures in fast forward, playing at once.
When it was done, the light faded away, the room and
their minds falling silent and still at last, but no one moved. No one spoke.
The only sound was that of winded breathing.
Benjamin opened his eyes and looked into his father's.
Everyone watched as the two men stared at one another with tears streaming down
their faces, until finally, the younger of the pair got up and stood before
Angel. The vampire rose as well, not knowing what to expect. The tension in the
air as everyone waited was thick enough to choke them all.
Finally, Ben let out a sob. "Dad," he cried,
and threw his arms around Angel as he broke down. "God, Dad, I'm sorry. I
didn't know!"
Angel reciprocated the embrace with every ounce of
strength he possessed, murmuring comforting nonsense to his sobbing child.
Clinging to Connor as fiercely as the boy was clinging to him for the first
time in his short life.
He glanced over Ben's shoulder to find Buffy smiling at
him through her tears, and a hope that he had all but dismissed as impossible
began to bloom once more in his heart.
Maybe she could come to understand. Maybe they could be a
family after all: his precious son, the great love of his life, and himself.
~
Everyone partook of the oatmeal cookies
Angel and Ben disappeared down the hall, the former with
a supportive arm around the latter as he escorted his exhausted son to the
guestroom.
Gunn said his farewells, promising that in a few months,
he and the other members of the Ra-Tet would return
to this dimension and things would start to get back to normal once more.
Before he left, he took Fred aside and kissed her tenderly on the forehead,
then looked deeply into the eyes he still loved, though that feeling, like so
many of his more mundane human ones, seemed like a distant dream now,
completely unrelated to his new reality.
He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and gave a wistful
smile. "She'll make you happy, Fred, if you'll let her. Don't let your
labels get in the way."
She returned a wobbly version of the smile. "I know.
That's what my little memory trip told me. It's just... weird, that's all.
She's a woman, you know? I've never really been the 'alternative lifestyle'
type," she stated with accompanying air quotes. "I mean... I'm from *
He grinned. "You also studied Theoretical Physics
and lived in a cave for five years, so... don't count yourself out of the open
mind category. You're getting yourself stuck on the shell - everybody knows
it's the inside that counts."
And with that, he popped out of existence once again,
leaving Fred to stare out the picture windows into the night, wondering how
much he really *did* know that she never told him.
Faith and Giles said goodbye and headed for the door,
with
"Stay, Will," she commanded softly. "You
need to talk to Fred."
Only... she wasn't surprised that Kennedy knew about her
growing feelings for Fred Burkle. If all the little
electric moments between herself and the scientist hadn't made her lover
suspicious yet, the message the spell projected loud and clear from her
subconscious would have more than done the trick.
So she didn't bother wasting time trying to deny it. She
gave Kennedy a long, sad look - she owed this strong, willful woman so much...
for bringing her back to life after Tara's death had all but destroyed her...
for sticking around even though Willow had never really been able to treat her
the way she deserved to be treated. Love her the way she deserved to be loved.
"I'm so sorry, Kenna,"
she apologized softly, taking the younger woman's hand.
Kennedy shrugged and gave a brave smile. "No big. I
mean, I always knew I was Rebound Girl. That was enough, for a while. But...
even before I saw you mentally snuggling up to the egghead... I was starting to
think I wanted more. I had a great time with you, Red, but... it's time to move
on. I gotta find myself some Slayer turf to slay on sometime, right? A place of
my own."
The two women hugged, and Kennedy had to force herself to
pull away. "See ya," she took her leave with
a casual tone belied by the tears in her voice, and followed the others.
When the door clicked shut behind them, the witch
hesitated, just watching Fred gaze pensively out at the night. Knowing that the
brunette had so much to deal with, what with the whole questioning her
sexuality thing and all...
Slow and gentle was the order of the day. She approached
and touched Fred's arm. When she turned, she gave the redhead a bright, if
slightly overwhelmed, smile.
"All this magick makes me
crave copious amounts of chocolate cake. Want to hit the diner with me?"
"Do they have pancakes?"
The witch beamed. "If there's flour in it, they've
got it. 24/7."
Fred reached out and took her hand, letting herself get
lost in those luminous big green eyes.
"Then I'm definitely with you," she replied.
Angel returned from getting Connor to bed to find his
home suddenly empty, except for Wesley, who continued nursing his tea as he sat
on the couch. The vampire's heart fell - both from Buffy's wordless
disappearance, and from fear of the reason his friend stayed behind.
Wesley stood as he came into the living room, and Angel
tried to find some clue as to his feelings, but the Englishman kept his
expression carefully neutral, revealing nothing until he spoke.
"My earlier statement still stands," he
informed the vampire softly, glancing away. When he looked up again, his
expression showed utter misery. "In fact, I find that I owe you my deepest
apologies. For everything."
Angel shook his head. "You don't owe me anything,
Wes. I don't think I ever told you this explicitly back then, but... You did
the best that you could with the information you had, as well. You tried to
save my son... from me. In retrospect, if I had known what you found... if you
had advised me about the prophecy... I can't honestly say I wouldn't have asked
you to do the exact same thing to keep him safe. You had no way to know what
would happen."
His friend's eyes filled. "And neither did
you."
They fell silent once again, that new understanding
hanging in the air between them for a moment as they held one another's gazes -
two men who had made horrible mistakes, all for the love of one boy.
"Well. I'll see you on Monday, then," Wes
finally voiced, and moved toward the door. "Perhaps we can meet for
breakfast before the staff meeting? Call if you need anything."
"Wes?" Angel called after him.
The ex-Watcher turned back. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
Wesley only smiled in response.
"Did you, uh..." Angel added, "Did you
happen to see Buffy?"
The smile slid from his colleague's face. "I'm
afraid not. I'm sorry."
With a sigh, Angel nodded, resigned. Wesley turned and
left, leaving him alone with a heart half-healed... the other broken all over
again. He wondered if it would ever truly be whole without both of its deepest
loves.
He had thought Buffy's initial reaction to the ritual was
a sign. Apparently, he was wrong. Not a big surprise, considering how often it
happened.... and that, deep down, he had expected no less.
There was nothing left to do now but crawl into his bed,
let the paradoxical tumult of emotions raging inside him to run their course,
and hope that tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe once she had some time to
think things through, Buffy would find it in her heart to forgive him. Maybe it
was all just too much for her to manage at once. Maybe she just needed some
time alone to take it all in enough to understand. Maybe in a few days...
He clicked on the light in his bedroom.
Or maybe she was sitting right there on his bed in the
dark, waiting for him.
"Hi," she welcomed softly, gazing up from
beneath lashes sparkling with tears. "I was hoping we could talk."
In less than a heartbeat, he was on his knees at her
feet, his head buried in her lap as he broke down, sobbing his gratitude for
this chance to be whole at last.
"Angel?"
He blinked, startling himself back to the present, and
realized that he was actually still standing in the doorway, staring at her,
and hadn't moved at all.
"Sorry," he muttered, glad for once that she
couldn't read his mind. Just because she had asked to talk in no way indicated
*what* they would be talking about. It was a bit premature to be daydreaming of
happy endings. "Of course we can."
~
Ricordisi Di (Remember)
Chapter Nineteen by Ducks
~
Buffy patted the space beside her on the bed, and Angel
sat. Silence hung heavy in the air between them.
"Well, we've got this talking thing down to a
science," she whispered. "I don't even know where to start."
He took a deep breath. "Then let me," he
offered, grateful at least for this temporary truce so that he could tell her
what had been in his heart since this whole disaster began. "It killed me
to lie to you, Buffy. Every day, I felt it eating away at my soul. Of all the
people I've known and loved in my life... you were the only one I ever felt I
could say anything... everything to. You were my first true friend. Sometimes
my only friend. And... Connor has been my greatest joy... my deepest grief...
the most important thing that's ever happened to me. Being unable to share that
with you..." he shook his head. "It's hard to put into words how
painful it was. I'm sorry that it had to be that way."
He finally turned to face her fully, reaching up to
caress her flushed cheek. "You have to know... I'm so deeply sorry for
hurting you. For what happened to Dawn. I hope you realize that I would never
do anything to cause either of you pain on purpose. But... I meant what I told
you before - it wasn't right that Connor should pay for my crimes. And as much
as lying to you... to our family... tore me up inside... I would do it all
again, in exactly the same way, if it meant keeping him safe. I would do worse,
in fact. I'll understand if you can't accept that. Can't forgive me for it...
or if you feel like you can never trust me again because of it. But I need, at
least, for you to know, in your heart of hearts -- that I would never,
*ever* lie to you if there was any other way."
It sounded so similar to what Giles had said to her
earlier that day, she just sat there, memorizing his features for a long time,
thinking about it. About what he was saying... the feelings behind his
statements. Of what the others had been telling her for weeks... and more, of
all the things she had seen and felt for herself as a result of the spell.
A great deal more than Connor's story had poured through
her during those minutes of absolute lucidity. Angel had been keeping other
things from her, as well - and she from him. Things between no one else but the
two of them. She had to wonder if the secrets he'd held about his son had
really been the only ones calling down the wrath of the Convergence.
"I understand, Angel," she finally replied -
and this time, she meant it. "I do. And you were right - I would have done
the same thing. I sort of did. Giles reminded me of what could have happened
when I died in Dawn's place - all the lives that might have been destroyed. All
the pain I left behind. It's not really so different, when it comes right down
to it. And I do trust you. More than anyone else I've ever known. So... even
though you hurt me... even though a part of me is still angry, and even
though... I don't really think there's anything you have to be sorry for... I
forgive you. Because I know you need me to."
His eyes welled. "I do, more than anything. Thank
you."
"There's more," she added. "The ritual...
there's another reason why I was so mad at you that sort of... takes away some
of my moral high round."" She glanced away from him, unable to hold
his gaze as she recalled one of the truths the spell had loosed from her
deepest subconscious. "I'm jealous. Of Darla and Connor. I didn't even
realize it before tonight. I was so hurt because... she got to share something
with you that I might never get to. And... I'm jealous of him because... just
by his existing, that means there will always be someone else on the planet
that you'll always love more than me. Who always has to come first. I know it's
not fair, and it's horribly childish and selfish... and I can't tell you how
ashamed I am to find out I even felt that way, but... maybe that's part of the
truth that had to come out. Why the Convergence hasn't gone away since you told
us about Connor. I didn't know the whole reason why I was so furious with you
until now."
She gave a deep, weary sigh that tore straight through
Angel's heart as she wiped away more tears. Tenderly, he tucked a finger under
her chin and raised her eyes to his.
"Listen to me, Ionuin. My
love for Connor doesn't mean that any less of my heart and soul belongs to you.
Don't you know? So much of what made this so impossible to bear was feeling
like the Powers were forcing me to choose between you. To choose which half of
me to sacrifice for the other. I would rather have died than make that choice,
Buffy. Because, when it comes down to it, I can't live without either of you. I
need you both. It's not a contest."
"I *know* that, Angel," she cried softly,
"I know that they're different kinds of love. Intellectually, I know.
That's why I never even thought about it consciously before tonight. I mean...
it's an *awful* thing to think! Connor *should* come first. You wouldn't be the
man I love if he didn't! I'm sorry even part of me felt that way, and that I
punished you for being a good father... a good *person*." Her heart broke,
sending tears once again pouring down her face - this time, for him. For all he
was forced to sacrifice for love... for duty. "You deserve so much more
than this... pain. Do you ever just take anything for yourself? Do anything for
yourself?"
He frowned in confusion at the seeming non seoquiotur. "You lost me."
Buffy rose to her knees and framed his face in her hands.
"You make all of these decisions that deny you even the smallest bit of
comfort. You deprive yourself of everything that you want. You've given up
everything, over and over again, because you care so much. Your family... me...
your humanity. All to keep everyone else safe... except you."
He placed his hands over hers and drew them to his lips.
"It's not entirely unselfish. All of those things, I did to save myself
from the pain of losing people I love, just as much as for them...." he
trailed off as her exact words registered in his mind. "Wait. My humanity?
I never..."
A tearful smile spread over her face as she interrupted,
"Told me about the day you were human? No. You didn't. But the spell you
got to help Connor was designed to bring out the *whole* truth, right? I guess
maybe the Oracles never thought of that when they did their temporal fold
thing."
He was shocked at her easy acceptance. "You
remember."
She nodded.
"And you're not... angry? I mean, that I made that
choice without asking you? That I took that day away from you?"
With a shrug, Buffy got up and headed for the small
kitchen to get them some wine - and herself a few more moments to think.
"If I had known before, I probably would have been *really* angry.
Especially when we couldn't be together. But... I guess I've learned in the
years that followed that you were right - sometimes we have to give up what we
want personally for what we do." She returned to him, handed him his
glass, and sat down beside him once more. "Besides... you really *might*
have died if you'd stayed human, and then we wouldn't be here now. Together.
With an *actual* future ahead of us. I could be angry with you - again - for
making that kind of decision
*for* me instead of *with* me, but..." She raised
her glass. "Why waste precious time on things we can't change now? Things
we regret? Why hang onto all of that when we could spend that time together
building something amazing from here forward? Haven't we wasted enough time
looking back?"
He touched his glass to hers and smiled fully for the
first time in what felt like forever. "To not looking back."
"Besides," Buffy added once they'd taken a sip.
"If I ever have to see Spike stick up for you again, or hear another
lecture from Faith about how amazing and incredible and perfect and virtuous
you are, I'm pretty sure I'll end up in a straightjacket. Or possibly
splattered all over the courtyard at the school."
Angel winced. "That's really not funny."
"I'm not joking," she replied, then sobered.
"So many people care about you, Angel. Me most of all. I wish I could have
been there for you through all of this, the way you're always there for
me."
"Hey," he admonished, taking her glass and
setting it next to his own on the nightstand, then turning until their faces
were only a breath apart. "No more looking backward, remember?" He
brushed a kiss to her sweet mouth, the familiar tingle a precious gift he
feared he'd never receive again.
When they drew away, she said, "I know. But I don't
want there to be
*anything* left unsaid between us. Ever again. I need to
know that there won't be."
He caressed her soft cheek with the pad of his thumb,
taking a moment to soak in the amazing feel of her - sunshine velvet, warm and
alive, so good and strong... and his.
"I promise. No more secrets. Ever. I never want to
see that look of hurt in your eyes again. I never want to feel that close to
losing you. Buffy... as far as I would go to see my son live a full and happy
life... I would go just as far to give you the same."
"Then lean on me as hard as you want me to lean on
you," she chastised gently. "I want to help you carry your burden
exactly the same way you help me with mine. Please. I just need you to trust in
me, Angel. I love you. I'm your lover, but I'm also your friend. I don't want
you to protect me from what you feel."
"I know you don't. It's... just my first instinct, I
guess. It always has been, from the first time I saw you. You've given me so
much - you've helped make me who I am. You're the foundation stone of this
amazing, rich, full life that I have. I never want you to be in pain - over
anything - but most especially because of me."
"Then share with me, Angel..." she whispered,
drawing him closer. "Be with me. Love me. Always."
"I will. I do," he murmured into her soft lips.
"Always."
The kiss tasted like tears and hope. Angel drank it from
her - a wine far sweeter than anything he could take from a glass, drawn from
the most ambrosial of fruits - the warm, welcoming heart of his love.
There were always these small, wondrous reunions between
them, whether time and miles separated them, or the simple mundane tasks of
their daily lives. But they were always more acute when something came briefly
between them. When some argument or misunderstanding - or near catastrophe -
made coming together again on the other side so much more poignant.
Times like these, making love with Buffy after he'd spent
time missing her, longing for her, seemed to sharpen every sensation to almost
painful clarity. The peaches and cream color of her bare skin as he peeled away
her clothes. The sweet melody of her passionate sighs. The heat of her tiny
hands brushing over his back, clutching at his shoulders, sending waves of life
through his dead cells from her touch.
He found himself thinking of what she'd said about her
jealousy as he wondered with lips and hands at the feminine miracle of her
form, and remembered wishing - sometimes pretending - the same thing she had in
some of those quiet, private moments he'd shared with Connor.
That his son was *their* son. That the miracle Connor was
had been doubly so, as he would have been a living symbol of what burned
between he and his love now. He nursed at her breasts, and imagined his child
suckling there. Traced the slim curve of her belly and envisioned it swollen
with the gift of life. He tenderly spread her thighs, dipped his tongue into
the wethot honey at her center, and wished that
someday, their love might produce a miracle of its own. That this sacred place,
the very core of her womanhood, would bring that miracle into screaming, joyous
life... into the light of the world they had sacrificed everything to protect.
But the act of love was sacred in itself -- her body no
less wondrous and beautiful for never having given birth. She was no less a
woman for never having brought forth a child, for she was the vessel of so many
things equally precious. Joy and laughter, courage and love. The very world
owed its continued existence to her, and for that, in her own special way, Buffy
was the mother of every living thing on it.
She was the very embodiment of the Goddess, to him. And
so, as supplicants and witnesses to miracles should always do, he worshipped
her. Followed her body's sacred pulses with his tongue until she cried out in
ecstatic affirmation, feeding his hungry mouth. He wandered her every gentle
rise and turn with hands warmed by her passionate fire.
And when he rose above her, his soul lost deep in the
mossy green shine of love returned in her expressive eyes... when he entered
her, and their bodies became one with a murmured benediction of one another's
name, Angel knew...
There was nothing inside of him he didn't want this woman
to possess. Nothing inside of her that he didn't want her to give. Between
them, they created their own blessed circle of life, and at its peak, they
cried out their thanks and rode the crashing waves back down to earth...
together.
They lay entwined, quiet in the soft glow of the bedside
lamp, for hours afterward, listening to the gentle song of rain on the
penthouse roof.
"I have something for you," he whispered,
kissing her hair and regretfully letting go with one arm to reach for his
slacks on the floor.
Buffy propped herself up on his chest with a bright smile
as he rifled through his pockets. "Ooh! Presents and make-up sex? I'm such
a lucky girl."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "If I didn't know
better, I might think you find reasons to be angry with me just for that."
She narrowed her eyes in a sad imitation of a glare.
"But you *do* know better. Maybe you *try* to get me mad at *you* for the
same reason."
He wiggled his eyebrows in response, and handed her the
tickets he had fished out of the garbage the day Connor came to see him in his
office.
"Maybe so," he stated, "But I'd be more
inclined to do something like drink your last Diet Coke, or throw your favorite
shoes in the trash, as opposed to getting the world sucked into Hell."
"But you have such a knack for it," she teased,
then her eyes went wide, her smile blooming into a delighted grin as she opened
the envelope. "
He nodded and smiled in return. "Summer break's
coming up. I thought we could spend a couple of weeks drinking real wine and
not basking in the sun. I've wanted to show you
"We never had the chance," she finished for
him. "Thank you, Angel. This is amazing. I've never taken an actual
*vacation* before."
"I know," he replied, and kissed her, slow and
sweet.
"I have something for you, too," she informed
him breathlessly when she came up for air.
Before he could ask what, she was already bounding across
the room, naked, to his walk-in closet. With a little grunt, she hauled out the
trunk of Connor memories and dragged it back to the bed.
"I thought you might want these back," she told
him, "You forgot them that night, what with all the Armageddon and
everything."
Angel stared down at the box, dumbfounded by the gesture,
and then slowly swung upright and gently lifted the lid.
"I guess I did," he murmured as the memories
rushed in, then looked at his beloved once more. "Thank you, Buffy."
"You're welcome. But... there is one
condition."
Fairly certain he knew what she was about to say, he gave
her a gentle smile. "And what's that?"
Buffy squeezed his hand and looked deeply into the eyes
she loved more than any others. "Will you tell me everything? I mean...
all about Connor, and this stuff? I want to know what you were thinking... what
you were feeling back then. What was it like when he was born? What was he like
as a baby? I want to hear it all. I want to pretend I was there with you. Share
it with me?"
Angel's soul overflowed with love for her. He leaned his
forehead against hers and closed his eyes, overjoyed to at last be able to
impart the most profound experience of his life with her.
"I thought you would never ask," he whispered.
~
The End.
Stay tuned for "The Bitch", Book IV of the Scratch series, coming soon! @Ducks@ THE ANTI-JOSS Born-Again Angel Ho Victor Garber's Love Slave LexSkull Licker ~~~~~~~~~~~~~