Memories

By Felicity

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story except Jon, Lyrik, Annwyl and Alethea. The rest belong to Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox, Mutant Enemy, etc.

Author's Notes: This does not work with Becoming in any way, so don't try and figure out how it does. Just assume it doesn't. I wasn't entirely sure about Angel's age, because eveyrone says dfferent things, so I took my best guess. I'm not an expert on vampire and Slayer lore, so what I didn't know I made up (i.e. vampires not needing as much sleep, bleeding, etc. plus all the Slayer stuff in Part 8). If I got anything wrong or offended anyone with my interpretations, please, don't be angry, it's just a story...and don't sue! I love comments, even criticism, if it's constructive. You can write me at felicity@SunnydaleHigh.zzn.com. Enjoy...

Part 1

The air shimmered with malice. The night was thick with it–malice, hatred, and desire. Desire for blood, though they would not get any this night.
“Come on out guys. I’m waiting,” Buffy called into the open air. “This is getting boring you know. After fifteen years one would think you could figure out another way to attack than in a dark alley at night.” Fifteen years. It was so strange, Buffy thought. When she had first moved to Sunnydale it was certainly not the place she’d been expecting to spend the rest of her life. And vampires had been the last thing on her mind. Buffy sighed; a lot had changed since then.
She didn’t have time to reminisce though, and she wouldn’t have wanted to either; her memories were mostly painful ones. The vampires she had sensed decided to take her invitation and attack. Too bad, she’d been hoping they’d slink off as they usually did these days. They’d wised up over the years, and when the Slayer directly challenged them, they usually found somewhere else they were needed. There were two of them that night though, so maybe they were being bold in numbers.
The first came at Buffy from the left, and though the second was behind her she knew very well where it was. The first–a tall male–lunged in for an attack on her weak side, but Buffy delivered a quick kick to his shoulder, sending him sprawling back and thrust behind her quickly with a stake. There was a cry and then the second vampire was no more but a cloud of dust, settling slowly to the ground.
The first was up again, and coming at her with evil in his eyes. He was braver than most these days, and it was almost a welcome challenge. Buffy got tired of chasing vampires sometimes. It was nice when they would just stand there and get slaughtered instead.
He sent a kick at her as soon as she was in range, but she ducked and rolled, coming up behind him. Fifteen years had done a good job of honing her combat skills–that and the fact that she taught it “for a living”. He turned with the lightening quick reflexes of most vampires, and she–with the equally quick reflexes of all Slayers–thrust the stake home before he had a chance to even put up a hand. He fell to the ground and disappeared in a puff of dust. Buffy bent to retrieve her stake, and then picked up the other one. She tucked them into her purse and started home, pulling her large leather jacket closer around her as she realized it was starting to get cold. His jacket was long since worn out, but she’d never quite gotten over the feeling of a slightly too large leather jacket, and every time she went shopping for a new coat she ended up getting the same one. Just one more thing to remind her of him.
Buffy clenched her hand, feeling his ring dig into her skin. She didn’t know why she still wore it. After all . . . fifteen years. And he had done the unforgivable. She couldn’t seem to take it off. Ever. And the cross he had given her was good protection, after all, and not just an aging woman grabbing at any shred of her one real relationship. If you could call it that. She forced herself to unclench her hand, and put it up to rub her neck instead. In the last few years she’d been getting back and neck problems, but there wasn’t much she could do except see a chiropractor, which she did regularly. It wasn’t as if she could take it easy . . .
It was a short walk home to her small apartment. After all, this was Sunnydale. It was a short walk anywhere.
She waved at Mrs. Conner, the woman who ran the apartment complexes as she unlocked her door. Mrs. Conner waved back at her cheerfully. Buffy pushed open her door and stepped inside, switching the light on. The message machine beeped and Buffy pushed the play button absentmindedly as she walked through the living room that the door opened into, calling for her cat.
Lilith, the black cat that Buffy had inherited from the last witch in town, sauntered in just as Giles came on the message machine. Buffy scooped Lilith up, half listening to the message.
“You’ve got to come in as soon as possible Buffy. I-I’ve got something you should . . . well something you need to see. It’s very important. You should come tomorrow morning at the latest,” Giles’ voice informed her. Buffy sighed, stroking Lilith as she sank into a chair. Here she was, a grown woman, and her only message was from the aging high school librarian, who happened to be her Watcher. <Is this what happens to all Slayers?> Buffy wondered.
Not all Slayers fell in love with those they were supposed to kill.
“Stop it!” Buffy told herself sharply, standing and dumping Lilith out of her lap. The cat meowed her protest loudly but Buffy ignored her, caught up in the old cycle of pain and memory. “Just stop it. That was a long time ago, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a lonely aging woman. Nothing at all.” That was what she told herself every time. Every time she remembered. Which she was not going to do now. She wouldn’t let herself.
When she was a teenager she had had so many plans. Not necessarily the right kind of plans–she hadn’t known exactly what she wanted to do in life, but she had certainly known how many children she was going to have, and what color house she was going to live in. She was going to be married with her first child by twenty eight, she had decided. Later than that and her life wouldn’t be worth living anymore.
<Look at me now,> she thought. <Thirty one, without even a boyfriend, much less a marriage.> She lived in a small apartment, taught hand to hand combat and fitness to survive and fought vampires or other kinds of monsters every night. What had happened?
<Angel happened,> she thought. <Bye bye dream of marriage.> And Giles had happened, and the Hellmouth had happened. Spike and Drusilla had happened. <Xander happened,> she thought. <He would have liked that. “I can happen,” he would have said. Well he definitely did. Xander definitely happened.>
Buffy turned off the main light and wandered into her bedroom. She absentmindedly changed and brushed her teeth, her mind on the past, as it often was. As she tried to keep it from being. She turned off the light and crawled into her double bed. Even a double bed seemed to large for one. But one was all that ever occupied it anymore. Maybe ever, she’d forgotten.
What she hadn’t forgotten, what she could never forget, was the look in his eyes when she sent him away.

*******************

“Hey Jon, you weren’t in class on Monday. What’s up?” Buffy called to a young man as she entered the high school the next morning. Jon Richards, one of her students, smiled apologetically as he looked up at her from his seat on the school steps.
“I was sick,” he excused himself. “I really wanted to come, but my mom wouldn’t let me. I was sick the whole weekend!” he exclaimed, annoyed. Buffy smiled fondly. She liked her students–they reminded her of herself when she was young. Well, sort of anyway. Without the vampire slaying.
“Well make sure you practice then. And you should come early next week, ‘cause we learned a new kick,” Buffy told him. He nodded emphatically.
“I will. Thanks Buffy,” he said. She smiled at him and said,
“No problem.”
“You going to see Giles?” Jon asked. Though he wasn’t exactly a Slayerette, he knew who (or what) she was, and he helped with research, and sometimes with actual fighting.
“Yeah, he left me some cryptic message last night. I’ll let you know if it’s anything interesting,” Buffy promised as she walked into the school. It was the same as it had always been. The science wing had been burned down a few years back in a chemistry experiment gone wrong–or at least, that was what was put around–but besides that it was the same good ‘ol school. Or bad ‘ol school, depending on how one thought of it. Buffy was inclined to go for the latter.
The school was mostly deserted this time of the morning. Jon was the only student she’d seen, and he always came super early, because he lived on the other side of town and his mom needed the family’s only car in the early morning. Buffy had trouble sleeping the night before, and had woken up really early that morning, not able to get back to sleep. Giles always arrived super early in the mornings, so she thought she’d stop by, having nothing better to do (and seeing as he had asked her to come as soon as possible).
Just as she’d thought, the library doors were unlocked and the lights were all on. Buffy peeked in through the doors, then came the rest of the way, not seeing anyone.
“Giles?” she called. He was probably looking for some book. She called his name again, then walked farther in when there was no answer.
“Hello? Anyone home? Giles?” More silence. Giles would have answered by now if he had heard her. And he could have heard her from anywhere in the library. Which meant he was unable to answer for some reason. Careful now, Buffy drew a stake from her purse, her measuring look taking in the whole library. Nothing seemed out of place. There were a few books laying out on the table–the normal sort, ancient texts about vampires or monsters or something. Besides that, everything was in its place. There was no evidence of a struggle of any kind.
Buffy moved carefully around the library, then spotted the door to Giles’ office. The door was closed, and the shades were down, but the light was on inside. Giles never closed the door to his office. Buffy moved forward silently. On the one hand, Giles wouldn’t have heard her from his office if the door was closed . . . but he never closed the door, not once she could remember in the fifteen years she had known him. Not with the light on.
“Here goes,” she murmured under her breath, then kicked the door open, ready for whatever might leap out at her.
Giles looked up from his desk, startled. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. Which was instantly turned into a gasp of something else . . . not horror, but something like it. Because something did leap out at her after all. It’s name was love and it came in the form of an Angel.

********************

Part 2

“I didn’t think you’d come this early!” Giles said, not for the first time. Buffy was sitting now, at least. Sitting at the desk; Angel couldn’t go into the rest of the library, for there was light there. Daylight. He couldn’t go into daylight. He was, after all, a vampire. She had tried to forget that. Tried, and failed every time. How could she forget when he had . . . Better not to think of that.
“I woke up early and I couldn’t go to sleep,” Buffy said numbly. She found something incredibly interesting about the carpet. She really ought to have noticed it before . . .
“I wouldn’t have been here. I promise,” Angel said. She almost looked up; stopped herself. She loved his voice so. It was so beautiful.
“I know,” she said quietly. But he was there, and now that she had seen him all she wanted was to look at him forever. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself love him again, even though she still did. There was a long silence, so long, and finally Giles broke it.
“I asked you to come because Angel brought some rather . . . disturbing news,” he said. Buffy looked up, but made sure that she only looked at Giles.
“Tell,” she said calmly. Out of the very corner of her eyes she could just make out Angel’s mouth curving in a smile at her old expression. His mouth . . . No, she would NOT think of that.
“W-well it seems that there is . . . well, a new vampire in town, as you might say. Another one that is,” Giles said, casting a strange look at Angel. Buffy kept her eyes fixed on the Watcher, who was busily polishing his glasses.
“All right. I can handle vampires. I’ve done it before,” Buffy assured him. Giles blinked at her, then shook his head.
“I’m afraid it’s not quite so-so simple. This is not . . . not an ordinary vampire. It’s a Master, I’m afraid,” Giles informed her. Buffy took the news calmly. She had handled Masters before, she could do it again. She told Giles so.
“I got rid of the Master before, didn’t I? And Spike and Drusilla, and Nazeth, who was worse,” Buffy pointed out.
“You fought Nazeth?” Angel asked, obviously suprised and impressed. Buffy tried not to look straight at him when answering. Tried very hard in fact.
“And won, yes,” she said. “After . . . well after you left. After Spike and Drusilla as well.”
“I knew you beat them,” he said. She looked back at Giles.
“Even Angel is impressed by the fact I beat Nazeth. Which means I can handle this new guy. So bring him on,” Buffy said. A fight would be welcome right about now. It would get her mind away from . . . from other things.
“I-it-she I mean, is female,” Giles corrected absentmindedly. Buffy shrugged.
“Okay. So females are usually a little more malicious, but I’m good at cat fights,” she said, sure she was missing something here. Both Giles and Angel (though she wouldn’t look directly at him), had very serious expressions on their faces. “Okay, so it was a bad joke. What’s going on here?” she demanded.
“Angel better tell you. H-he knows the story rather better, I’m afraid,” Giles said. Buffy sighed. So this wasn’t going to be easy (finding out what was going on, that was). She could handle listening to his voice for a few minutes. Probably. Buffy looked over at Angel, not meeting his eyes, but looking at him. He looked exactly the same as always. Of course. He was even dressed the same. Black slacks, a white shirt and a black jacket. Well, why not? Something like that never went out of style. And he still looked about twenty five. Certainly no older. He was in his 250’s now.
“Well, go on,” she prompted. She had to concentrate right now. <Think vampire,> she told herself. It didn’t really help.
“Annwyl–that is her name, though it is not used much anymore–was born in the late middle ages, in Wales. She was raised in a secret pocket of the old religion–they still worshipped the old gods. She had a special power. She was called a Seer–that is, she saw the future as it could happen in visions. It used to be a common gift, but it is hardly ever found anymore, not the true gift. As a Seer, she had more than the ordinary amount of power, but it was not enough. When she was sixteen a vampire attacked her and turned her into a vampire.
“Annwyl had been a very good person before, and she had been in love with a young man named Dafydd. The power that she had as a Seer somehow allowed her to still love him, even though the demon had taken over the rest of her totally. Unbeknownst to the vampire that made her she went back to her old home to see Dafydd. Unfortunately (and you will see why in a moment), the current Slayer was waiting for her.
“Annwyl found Dafydd and was talking to him in her human form, but the Slayer found them. Annwyl showed her true face and Dafydd was frightened. The Slayer and Annwyl fought and Annwyl was almost defeated. Before she was though, she accidentally pushed Dafydd in front of the Slayer, who killed him by accident. Annwyl went crazy. Deep in her heart she still loved the young man. Her rage, combined with the power she still retained from life and her newfound power made her very powerful, and she killed the Slayer. But she didn’t kill her in the usual way. She drank her blood until she was dead, thereby gaining most of the Slayer’s inherent power as well.
“Since then she has been traveling the world, intent on getting revenge on all Slayer’s for what that one Slayer did accidentally. She has killed six Slayers Buffy. Six slayers–and she drank the blood of each and every one. That means her original power plus that of six slayers. And she’s one of the oldest vampires alive. The only reason she didn’t come here sooner was that the last Slayer she fought was just strong enough to weaken her, though she couldn’t kill Annwyl. But that was a long time ago. Annwyl had been hoarding her strength, and she is very powerful now. More powerful than you can imagine,” Angel finished softly. Buffy was silent. Six Slayers? The most any other vampire she knew of had killed was three. Six against three? Annwyl had killed twice as many as Nazeth, and Buffy had barely survived the fight with him, though she wasn’t about to tell Angel that. Giles knew though, and she could feel his worried gaze on her. She wasn’t at her best either, she knew that. It had been a long time since she’d had any real challenge, and she was older now. Slower.
“So what do we do?” Buffy asked finally, looking to Giles.
“I’m not quite sure. Not yet, anyway,” he revised hastily, “If we can’t find anything you and Angel will have to . . . well fight her together, though that is only if we have no other options.” Buffy glanced over at the only vampire in the world with a soul. He could fight, she knew that. He was as powerful as Buffy. But could they fight together? They’d never tried it against one opponent. And the last time they’d fought anything together had been fifteen years ago. That was a long time. Buffy was used to flying solo.
“Well, you really should keep looking. She must have some weakness. When will she attack? That is, I assume she will,” Buffy said. Angel nodded.
“She’ll attack all right. Probably on Friday night. Friday is Saint Kazarth’s Day,” Angel said. Buffy nodded.
“Powerful vamp. Killed three hundred people in one night. At a party,” Buffy recalled. Giles looked at her with suprise.
“H-how did you know that?” he asked. She gave him a little smile.
“It comes around every year remember? Fifteen years. I think I’ve heard the spiel enough to remember it for once,” Buffy explained. His eyebrows drew together, then he nodded.
“Of course. That give us three days. I hope you don’t insist on going to all your . . . your classes?” Giles asked, as always disapproving of the fact that Buffy liked to have something of a life at least. Buffy thought about it. She had fitness in a few hours–a bunch of twenty something year olds to middle-aged women who kept in shape with step aerobics. Buffy wasn’t even breathing hard by the end of that particular class. That afternoon she had beginning hand-to-hand combat.
“I could skip today I suppose, and probably Friday too. It depends if I can get a sub. Let me make a few calls,” Buffy said. Giles looked over at the phone pointedly when she remained in her seat. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Giles, it’s about 7:00 in the morning. I meant make a few calls LATER,” she said. He looked startled and took off his glasses to polish them again.
“Oh. Of course,” he said.
“Don’t you have some things to look up?” Buffy asked pointedly a moment later, when he just stood there. He startled.
“O-of course. I trust you’ll be all right without me?” he asked. Buffy nodded.
“I’ll be fine Giles,” she said, wondering if she spoke the truth or not. He nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him quickly, before any light could come inside. There was a long silence as they both looked everywhere but at each other.
“Classes?” Angel asked finally. “You can’t tell me you still haven’t passed out of school?” Buffy smiled despite herself. It had been a close thing, but she had passed, and without TOO much trouble.
“No. I teach. Don’t give me that look! I’m not that stupid! But you’re right, I don’t teach at school. I teach hand to hand combat and . . . fitness,” Buffy explained.
“Fitness?” Angel asked.
“Fitness,” Buffy repeated firmly, “You want to make somethin’ of it?” He smiled.
“Not at all,” he said, then paused a moment. “Step aerobics?” he asked. Buffy nodded.
“ ‘Fraid so,” she laughed. “Hey, I have to eat!”
“I didn’t say anything,” he said, holding up his hands. There was another long silence. Buffy didn’t know what there was to say. She couldn’t bring up what had happened, not yet. She had just seen him. Once again, he broke the silence.
“So where is everyone these days? I don’t see your loyal Slayerettes anywhere,” Angel remarked. Buffy nodded, glad for the distraction.
“Let’s see. Cordelia’s in L.A., reaping the benefits of her very lucrative film career. You’ve probably seen her in something?”
“Never miss a Cordy movie,” Angel said. Buffy smiled a little, then continued.
“She just got married again. I think it’s her fourth husband this time . . . maybe only third. He’s a producer.” Cordelia had confided to her once, in a rare moment of intimacy, that “none of them are Xander, after all,” but Buffy certainly wasn’t going to say that now, not to him, not after so long. Not yet anyway.
“Willow’s in Seattle now,” Buffy went on. “She started her own computer business, Internet stuff mostly . . . I think.” Angel smiled and Buffy kept going. “She’s married to a really nice guy named David. He’s very sober, doesn’t joke much, but he’s a good man. Not at all like . . .” Buffy trailed off, then stopped. “She has two kids, a girl and a boy. They’re six and eight respectively.”
“What about Oz?” Angel asked.
“I almost forgot Oz! Well, his band hit it big a while ago. They’re still really popular. I think he’s touring right now. He has a girlfriend–I heard she’s a shy red head. Not suprising,” Buffy said.
“What happened to him and Willow? I thought they were a couple,” Angel asked. Buffy nodded, then sighed.
“They were. Willow took . . . everything . . . really hard. A little too hard, Oz thought. She sort of withdrew, at least from him. She spent more time on the Internet and stuff. They officially stayed together until we graduated, but it was over long before that. But when Will went off to college . . . well, it was pretty obvious that it was over. And she met David. They’re still in touch sometimes, but he’s so busy with his band, and she has her business and family . . .” Buffy trailed off. The silence was suffocating. Now he knew all about the last fifteen years, what else was there to ask? Well, not all, she realized.
“Are you married?” he asked. Buffy looked up, startled that he would even ask and shook her head in the negative.
“I haven’t even gone on a date in . . . oh I don’t know how long,” Buffy said, sighing. She couldn’t tell what the look on his face meant. Was it relief? Or unhappiness? She used to be able to read his face like a book (except that Buffy wasn’t exactly the best reader in the world . . .). Still, she had always known what he was thinking (okay, there had been moments when he got his Cryptic Guy thing going, but those had gotten fewer the longer she knew him).
“You really would have gone without seeing me?” she asked finally, the words torn out of her in a cry. And then they were both out of their chairs and he had crossed the room and was holding her, holding her so tightly.
For the first time in fifteen years, Buffy felt like she was home.
She breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of him, that familiar scent that was Angel. And his arms around her . . . so warm and strong and comforting. She could stay here forever, just being held by him. Except that what had happened had happened and there was no going back. He was who he was and she was who she was, and she couldn’t let herself go again.
She pushed away gently and he released her. She turned away from him, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face.
“You can’t forgive? Even now?” he asked, his voice raw and harsh. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists to keep them from reaching out to him and soothing the pain from his voice.
“I don’t know. I want to, I want to so much. But I don’t know. And there is more to it than that. Fifteen years is nothing to you, I know that, but to me it is a very long time. I have changed. I have grown older. Look at me. I’m not a girl anymore. And I’m going to keep getting older. I’ll get gray hair, and my waist will thicken. When I’m old and bent over and frail, will you still love me? I can’t ask you for that. I used to be able to pretend it wouldn’t happen. When you’re a teenager you can forget that there’s anything else to life. But I can’t forget anymore. There IS more to life, and I’ve lived part of it. But you . . . you haven’t. You’re still exactly the same as you always were. You’ll always be the same. You can’t change. You’re a vampire. What are you now? Two hundred and fifty six? You–” Buffy was cut off, and Angel grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.
“Stop. You know I’ll always love you, no matter what. You know it,” Angel whispered, finally catching her eyes with his own. They were so black. So black and full of sorrow and guilt and self-hatred. Full of love too. Buffy could see it there, as strong as it had always been. She realized suddenly that it had never been his face she could read, but his eyes.
“I love you,” Angel repeated, very softly. How she had longed to hear those words once, and perhaps she still did now. Buffy felt the tears escaping, running down her cheeks. She didn’t lift a hand to brush them away, but he did. So very softly, he wiped her cheeks were the salty tears had traveled. One escaped him and reached her mouth. She licked it away, her eyes never leaving his. Very slowly he leaned forward and kissed her, hesitantly at first, and softly, then, when she did not protest or move away, he deepened the kiss.
Buffy kissed him back, drinking in his mouth as if she was a dying woman in a desert and he was an oasis pool. It had been so long . . . She had dated some after he left, but it had never been serious and the kisses had never been like this. Angel was the only one who could make her knees weak with just a kiss. Like he was doing now. One of his strong arms came behind her and held her up.
When they finally broke apart it was only a few centimeters. Buffy stood looking up at him, unsure of herself, for once. They just stood, looking at each other, for a long time. Angel kissed her again. Buffy laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes. She loved him so much. And he loved her, he had told her so. But there was still the past between them, and Xander, and age.
They finally broke apart, Buffy sighing and looking at the books on the desk.
“We should probably get to work,” she said. “It’s not fair for Giles to do all the research.”
“You’re right, we should get some work done,” Angel agreed in a strange voice. Buffy sat down and picked up a book, but immediately looked back at Angel. He was pulling his chair over to the desk to join her.
“Angel?” she said. He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “I love you too,” she said. His eyes told her that he knew. But he was glad she had told him anyway. He sat down to work. There was, after all, a vampire to kill.

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On to Part 3

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