Promises
By Felicity
Disclaimer: I own Reveka (but no the gypsies). They and the rest of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox, Mutant Enemy and all those wonderful people.
Author's Note: This goes with the show up to "Lover's Walk." Since nothing else has been shown, I really can't say whether they fit after that. Possibly they do. Probably not. I love comments, so please e-mail me!
Part 1
“Keep practicing,” Giles instructed, standing up from his seat watching Buffy. “I’m
going to get a cup of tea.”
“Will do,” she replied, giving the punching bag a few punches. Giles had decided
about a year ago that he’d played dummy to her Slayer for long enough. He left the
library and Buffy obediently gave the punching bag a hard kick. Then she sat down
at the table and pulled a mirror from her purse. Just as she’d though, she had totally
messed up her hair. She began to fix it, stopping when she heard the library door
open.
“Giles?” she called, standing up. The practice area wasn’t in plain view of the door,
since people usually wondered about a punching bag in a library, not to mention why
Buffy was always there, even though she graduated six years before.
“It’s not Giles,” a young female voice called back, and then the owner of it stepped
into Buffy’s line of view. She was about eighteen or nine—she could be a student,
but she didn’t seem like one, plus it was 6:00 and the school was pretty much deserted—with
very dark, short hair and dark eyes. She looked very familiar, but Buffy couldn’t
seem to place her somehow.
“Who are you?” Buffy asked. The girl didn’t answer.
“Are you Buffy Summers?” she asked. Buffy put her hands on her hips.
“Who’s asking?”
“The Slayer?” the girl asked. Buffy stiffened.
“Who told you that?” she asked coldly.
“You are, aren’t you? She told me about you.” Suddenly the girl was being held up
aganst a bookshelf by her neck and Buffy was regarding her coldly, their faces inches
apart.
“How do you know who I am? And who is ‘she?’ Talk fast, ‘cause I lose interest quickly,
and when I lose interest, you die,” Buffy threatened. The girl didn’t seemed frightened
in the least, just regarded her calmly out of strangely familiar black eyes.
“My name is Reveka. I am Romani, and ‘she’ is Janna—you knew her as Jenny Calendar,”
the girl said. Buffy’s mouth thinned, remembering the computer science teacher. Because
of her, Angel had lost her soul . . . or so Buffy told herself. It was easier than
thinking it was her own fault.
“I’m not sure right now whether that makes you better or worse, so keep talking,”
Buffy instructed icily. Romani. She was one of the people that had cursed Angel.
One of the people that had given him his soul . . . but made him live in eternal
torment.
“I’m here to help you. To help Angelus—Angel. I know he’s not here right now, but
I thought you would know how to find him. The tribe is . . . deranged and crazed
with revenge and cruel besides. How many people have suffered needlessly for one
man’s—one vampire’s—crime? He has suffered for a hundred years, and in Hell for longer
than that, he deserves happiness.”
“And you can give it to him?” Buffy asked skeptically, eyeing the girl. She
was rather pretty, but not Angel’s type. At all.
“No. You can.” Buffy was silent for a long moment, and then her hand tightened around
the girl’s throat.
“I don’t know what kind of sick joke you think this is, but you’re getting yourself
into deeper trouble every passing second. Angel and I are over. We have been for
a very long time. What are you trying to do, torment us both more? ‘Cause it’s not
going to work. You’re going to die,” Buffy said, disguising the pain with anger.
“No! Please, listen to me,” Reveka said. Buffy was silent and the girl continued.
“You don’t understand. I found a spell, a version of the curse, only more permanent.
It will work forever, not just while Angelus is unhappy.” Buffy froze, not believing
what she was hearing. Reveka went on. “Janna—Jenny—was working on it when she was
killed. She wanted to cast the other one first, so you’d be safe and wouldn’t hate
her so much, but then she was also researching this other curse. I found it, and
translated it, and I have it. Here. I can cure him.” With the super hearing all Slayer’s
possessed, Buffy heard the door open very, very quietly and close just as softly.
Giles.
“What exactly was your relationship with Jenny Calendar?” she asked loudly,
to make sure he would hear. Reveka was silent for a long moment, then answered proudly,
“She was my mother.” Buffy heard a cup drop and British curses. She let go of Reveka
and ran around the bookcases to see Giles. Luckily, the hot tea hadn’t spilled on
him as much as the floor.
“Giles!” Buffy cried, going over to help him up. Reveka stopped a few feet away,
watching this man who had loved her mother. As he stood up, his eyes met hers and
there was a long silence.
***********************
“Let me get this again . . . you rebelled against the tribe because you think they’re
responsible for your mom’s death?” Buffy asked. They were sitting around on the library
tables, Giles still in shock and Buffy still watching the girl suspiciously. Reveka
nodded to her question, then sighed.
“It’s not only that. She was very young when I was born, and my father wasn’t part
of the tribe . . . both those things meant she wasn’t considered fit to raise me.
In the tribe, they take that ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ thing very seriously.
The Council controls everything. They thought that she shouldn’t be allowed to keep
me, since she’d shown such poor judgement in having me. I was raised by relatives,
and by the whole village. She loved me though, and came to visit me every day. She
wasn’t the person I would run to when I was hurt, but she was my best friend and
I loved her more than anything.
“When I was thirteen they sent her away. By that time they judged her a full member
of the tribe, cured of her rebelliousness and ready to take on responsibilities.
She e-mailed me every day and told me everything about her life here. She promised
that someday she’d send for me and I could come live with her, whatever the tribe
said. Then suddenly, everything went wrong. My great-uncle was killed and everyone
spoke of how she was failing her duty. I only knew that she was trying to do what
was right, and she didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“She told me all about researching the curses. She wanted to help so much. She thought
it was all her fault,” Reveka said sadly. Buffy opened her mouth to say it was,
but closed it again at a look from Giles. “When she died the tribe mourned of course,
but they said it was her own fault. If she’d done her duty it never would have happened,
they said. I knew it wasn’t true. And if they had pursued vengeance for almost a
hundred years over one girl, why didn’t they do anything about my mother?
“I didn’t have any first hand information after that, but when Angel was sent to
Hell they held huge celebrations. When he came back they were dissapointed, but he
was still tormented and that was enough. The last I heard was that he left Sunnydale
and was wondering around in agony, killing vampires and cowering in the darkness.”
“So you’re here now why?” Buffy asked, mentally wincing at the picture of
Angel. It was probably pretty accurate, but it really didn’t make her feel good about
herself to hear it in those terms.
“I decided to leave the tribe. When I was eighteen. I knew I wouldn’t be truly free
until I actually did something . . . something to change all the pain they’ve brought.
Which is when I remembered the spell. I researched it, and last month I finally translated
it. I came here to find you both, and see if you could help me find Angelus—Angel.”
“I know where to find him,” Giles said, rousing from the reverie he seemed to have
fallen into. They helped each other sometimes, researching demons and vampires and
so on.
“Thank you!” Reveka said gratefully.
“Good,” Buffy said quickly. “You guys can trade information, and then you can be
on your way Gypsy Girl. Nice meeting you.”
“Not exactly,” Reveka said. Buffy eyed her suspiciously. “I need your help. Yours,
Mr. Giles, because, even though I have the translation, I need some help getting
everything I need, and yours Buffy, especially.”
“Why do you need mine?” Buffy demanded. “I don’t do spells. At all.”
“It’s not the spell part . . . exactly. See, you can’t really cast this curse on
top of the other one. It would get all messed up. At least, I think so. I’m not an
expert on it, but I think the other curse has to be removed before this one can be
cast.”
“And you need Buffy to remove it,” Giles said softly.
“Pretty much. Yeah,” Reveka confirmed, avoiding Buffy’s eyes.
“No way!” Buffy exclaimed, leaping her to her feet. “I am not going through
with that again! What if your spell doesn’t work? Plus, I haven’t even seen Angel
for like six years!”
“If it doesn’t work we still have the other one. One person can cast the first one,
and if that doesn’t work than we’ll do the other one right away.”
“No!” Buffy exclaimed. “I won’t do it!” She turned on her heel and ran out of the
library, pulling open the door of her car and getting in, putting in the keys and
starting the motor before she realized what she was doing. She stopped suddenly,
and began to cry, overwhelmed with the desire that she’d thought was gone forever.
********************
It was too dangerous. Much, much too dangerous. What if it didn’t work? What if the
other one didn’t work? What if he killed her before they cast the spell?
How could she let herself go, knowing what might be the result, knowing she might
wake up to find him gone again, knowing she might have to give him up again?
But how could she not, knowing he was suffering?
Buffy felt the desire wash through her; saw the dark eyes of a girl that wanted to
help; saw the darker eyes of the only man she had ever really loved; cried because
she could have him again, after so many years; cried because she couldn’t.
********************