I stare at Angel because I don't understand him. But I feel it. A cold space where my heart used to be. An emptiness, an iciness. And my lungs…they're not breathing. And the hunger. My belly aches. “Angel…” I say softly, the way I always say his name, like a question. He looks down at me, his eyes stricken, terrified. “Buffy?” he asks quietly, and his fingers smooth over my breastbone. He is trying to find the beat of my heart. His thumbs press into my skin fiercely but it doesn't hurt. “Do you feel any different? Emotionally…?” “Not evil,” I murmur because I know that's what he's asking. He breathes relief and his hands leave my flesh. Arching my back, I stretch my body like a willow tree, trying to get closer to him. I see my ribs poking out and think that I need to eat. Food… hunger… “I'm hungry…” I tell him and he starts to get up. “I'll get you some food.” “No…” With trembling hands, I reach out and touch his shoulders, his chest, the thin welt on his wrist. “You… I need…Angel, I need…blood…” As I say the word I feel my mouth go dry and then wet in a rush of longing. What am I? “What have you done to me?” I whisper despairingly, and try to breathe. It hurts, because I realize I don't need to. Tears rush into my eyes and I sit up, my whole body dead and alive at the same time. And hungry, so hungry. “I don't know,” Angel weeps and I climb on his lap, licking away the salt with my tongue. “Don't cry, sire,” I murmur without thinking and hear myself gasp. Angel stares at me and his eyes flare with a fire I don't know. I feel a flash of something ancient in my veins, roaring through me like a wildness I've never known. But I know him. I know this creature that sits under me. He owns me. He made me. He's killed millions and not cared. He used to feed in the dead of night, walked like a ghost through sleepy towns and yearn for the taste of blood. He had a thousand lovers and only one that mattered. He was the Scourge of Europe and survived death and fire, riots and screams…stakes and sunlight, and slayers… I feel dizzy. I know him. A stirring in my skin reminds me of days long ago. Did I live back then? When tigers roamed and the hot skies loomed overhead…did I use skins to gather water…did I run like a panther and feed with blood dripping past my lips…? Oh God… my mind whirls… I know this man. I know this demon. I know his soul and his blood and his pain. He owns me. “I'm yours,” I utter firmly to Angel, and I don't know what I'm saying, but it feels right. He kisses me because he can't help it and my whole being is calling to his. Bending me back against his arm, he drives his tongue into my mouth and I moan, grunting like an animal. Is that what I am now? “Please…” He takes out the knife and I see his regret as he slashes it quickly across his chest. Pressing my face to his cool skin, I let my tongue lap gently around the stream of blood. Oh God… My life…my mouth… Come unto me…my vampire, my lover… Salt and copper, sugar and sharp syrupy wetness… it fills my throat and I drink, swallowing and feeling the glow sweep down my flesh. Angel's hands twist through my hair and he holds me to his chest with a groan. This is all I need, all I want. I want to kneel and bow to him. I want to be his everything…his reason for living. I want him to be my reason for living. Ravenous, I push him backwards and lay over him, the strands of my hair spilling over his face as I suck with my mouth and tongue at his blood. He pushes me off him so suddenly that I topple to the floor and my head cracks against the carpet. Hazily I look up at the ceiling and realize how far away it is. Black stars shine before my eyes, dancing and shimmering. Wonderland, I think. I'm in Wonderland. Where nothing is how it appears. Rolling over, my bones creak with the jarring I received as I hit the floor and I watch Angel button his shirt. Wet patches spot the material where his blood has leaked through. My thighs are sore…between them is open. I need him to fill me… god…I need him. He owns me. “Will you fuck me, sire?” I whisper and his head jerks around to stare at me. “Buffy…” he mutters angrily and he yanks me up by my arm, his fingers bruising. I like it. He's hurting me. I want to feel something. “Will you? Fuck me…please…” “No…Buffy, this isn't you,” he says, his voice faltering and he sits me down on the bed, turning away to run his hands through his hair absently. “I have to go see the Host. Find out what the Powers the Be say… you stay here.” “Ok,” I answer obediently and he looks shocked. “You're not going to argue with me?” “No, sire.” Growling with rage, he grabs me and kisses me ferociously, muttering against my lips, “The name is Angel. Don't call me that anymore.” I yelp with pain as he tugs on my lip with his teeth. They're sharp and it wakes me a little. “Angel, yes…Angel,” I repeat and hold him with my strong arms for a moment. Then he leaves and I'm alone. I lay back on the bed and stare with dry, darting eyes. ~~~ I wonder who I am now. (Mom…god, wearing a bra does not make me a woman. Relax Buffy…I said you were 'becoming a woman'. Oh My God… I can't believe you. Look, just don't go blabbing on about this to all the female relatives. I don't need to have a big 'first bra sharing storytime' with them. (She laughs) Oh, Buffy. So dramatic. I won't tell a soul. You promise? Completely. My lips are sealed. You know… it's like I'm not even Buffy anymore. Now I'm supposed to be a woman, for crying out loud. You've always been a woman. Grown-up. You were always older than your age, honey. (I scowl) These under wires hurt.) I was never allowed to be Buffy. A woman. Older than her age. The Slayer. The orphan. Father's MIA. Mother's dead. And now…an animal. A vampire? I don't know. Wearily I turn over and the softness of the duvet pillows my cheek. I pretend I am lying against Angel. But he's hard. Damnit…I'm hungry. I'm thirsty and hot and hungry and angry and old and the Slayer and an animal… Angel has a painting on his wall of a dragon with a knight slaying him. A huge green dragon with scales and a fire-spitting mouth. The knight has silver armour and a long golden sword. It reminds me of how I killed Angel. But then, everything does. I remember the summer afterwards when I was in LA. Sleeping reminded me of him. Angel's sleeping a deep sleep. Coffee made me think of him. The darkness of it, it's smell, rich and earthy and mellow. It made me jittery, like he used to. Sometimes at night I'd smell the air and I'd be back at the mansion, sticking that razor sharp sword through the belly of the man who loved me who had just kissed me who had just told me he loved me who had just kissed me whose salt I had on my lips who I loved who I lived for I killed him and left and I was never the same again because he was the man who loved and kissed me and I killed him… Leaning over the side of the bed, I feel my stomach revolt and I want to throw up. I'm sick, so sick. I'm a monster now. I failed my Mommy. (Promise me you'll look after Dawn. Love her as much as I love you…) I failed Angel. (Buffy? What's going on? … I love you…) This isn't the world I know. In my world I save people. I'm not one of the people who is killed. I kill. Because it's my duty and I'm supposed to. Now I'm drinking blood and hungering for blood and calling Angel 'sire' and I don't have a mother I feel so sick and empty and alone… Oh god… are you out there God? ~~~ When Angel comes home I feel faint with happiness. Reaching out my arms for him to come, I smile when he walks forward and holds me. His mouth is tight but his eyes are gentle because he loves me and I know he does. “I'm going to clean you up, now,” he tells me. “Why?” “Because we're going to see the Oracles,” he informs me like I should know who they are. “The who?” For a moment I see something flash in his eyes and then he nods imperceptibly. “The Oracles. They speak for the Powers the Be. The first were destroyed a while ago, but the Host just told me that two more were summoned. I was never told about them. Anyway, I'm going to put you in the shower all right?” he asks as he turns on the taps. I discard my clothing and step underneath the hot spray. It burns my cold as ice skin and I shiver, lathering up with soap and shampoo as quick as I can. Shaking, I get out and rub my flesh with a fluffy towel, pulling on my clothes once more, which I notice Angel has thrown in the dryer for a few moments to make the material more warm and welcoming. It makes me smile. I look in the mirror and the curve leaves my lips as if it had never been there. I have no reflection. No me. Walking closer and closer, I touch the glass and see the bathroom that is behind me. The sinks gleam white. Where am I? Nothing, nobody… no one Buffy. (Mommy…I swear, no one knows me at Hemery. They didn't go to Lakegrove. You'll meet new people, I know it, honey. It's like I don't exist. I'm nobody. That's not true. You're Buffy, and you've always been popular. I'm sure it'll be the same at Hemery, just give it time. Time sucks. Very eloquent Buffy. Time for dinner, set the table ok? Great, Mom. I'm in pain, I'm suffering and to comfort me, you ask me to set the table. Incredible mothering. Don't be melodramatic. Set the table before your father comes home. (I scowl and glare at her) I can't believe you. You're such a doormat. (Her eyes go wide with anger…and a peculiar hurt that I cried about later) Don't speak to me that way, Buffy. You can eat in your room if that's how you're going to act. Fine… like I care. (then I went in my room and cried. Because I saw a sadness in her eyes that was too big to be ignored. She knew she was alone. ) Closer and closer…and still, nothing. No one. My eyes weeping, I press my face to the glass and shriek. Where am I? WHERE DID I GO? “Buffy?” Angel comes into the room and spots me. “What's wr—?” He trails off as he realizes and takes me into his sure and strong arms, embracing me tight. I crush my body against his, because it is the only constant in my life. Angel has always been with me. Even when I killed him and he was sent to Hell…I was with him. He came to my dreams with sunlight and a harsh voice. But it was Angel. When he came back, he was still by my side…he couldn't stay away from me. He loved me. I would send him away. I would tell him I needed a break, but I couldn't leave and neither could he. We were stuck and I liked it. Cause I didn't want anyone else. Anything else. I guess I thought maybe he was finally gone when he left me. I jumped into the relationship with Riley and thought fiercely that he was going to be the person who I depended on. He was going to complete me and love me and everything was going to be rosy. Rosy like in fairytales. Then I guess I woke up. Like sleeping beauty. Except no Prince kissed me and I didn't get to live happily ever after. Riley let me in on the secret that everyone was keeping. I was never going to love him, I hadn't given myself to him, he was not completing me. And so I went on again. But I never forgot the time when there was someone who I loved in my life. Who made me feel golden and beautiful and confused and happy and sad and everything that makes humans, human. Everything that makes a Slayer, a Slayer. “We should go,” I say quietly and he nods, taking my hand. ~~~ It's under the post office. What a weird place for important message bringers to be. Or…maybe not. They're like the mail service for the Powers, I guess. My stomach rumbles as I smell Angel but I ignore it. No more hunger anymore. I refuse to feel it. Angel throws something in the large clay pot before the white stone door and says, “We beseech access to the knowing ones.” The rocks and powder ignite and suddenly there is a lighted doorway. “Angel…” I murmur and he takes my fingers and squeezes them. We walk in and I feel disoriented because we stand in a long hallway. White, white, white marble veiny with streaks of grey, the light in the distance shimmering just out of reach. Two figures appear before us and I immediately feel as if I should bow. Their powerful presence is palpable in the air and I'm over whelmed. “You have summoned us, lower beings,” says the female. Her robes are silver and so is her skin. She is beautiful, like a Greek Goddess. Sister, I think and stand taller. Angel nods. “We have.” The male sneers. He is strange looking. Gold and silver. His robes are blue, and wrapped like a tunic. “What have you brought us?” Angel opens his palm and I see a bejewelled knife and a ring. “For the two of you,” he says lightly and the Oracles extend their hands, the objects snapped up instantly in a beam of light and magic. “Pretty,” the woman smiles and walks towards us, her feet almost bobbing through the air. “What do you wish to know?” “You know,” Angel replies. “What has happened to Buffy?” The man almost smirks and cocks his head. “You must tell us, warrior. It is you who has done this to her.” “Hush brother,” the female admonishes. “Warrior and Slayer. A most powerful combination. We will tell you what you need to know. When you drank the Slayer, and she drank you, you stopped too soon. Therefore she is caught between the two worlds. Living and dead. She retains her soul and does not have the vampiric visage. However there is deep hunger in her…and her heart no longer beats.” “Oh God…” Angel breathes and bows his head slightly. “What do I do?” “You have two options,” the male says calmly. “We can leave her this way. She will remain by your side forever. As long as you live, so will she, for she is dependent on you, and feels a deep bond to you. Or we can restore her to human form, just as she was before. But with a difference.” “What difference?” Angel inquires sharply. The female looks sadly at me and I swear I see a tear glisten on her cheek. Or is it sadness? Happiness…romantiscm? “You will be joined forever. Through these blood ties your souls will be intertwined. It will be painful for you to be apart for long. A week will make you both feel…” she pauses as if searching for the right word, “ill. Mortally sick.” I see my lover stare at her as if she's grown a second head. It almost makes me laugh. I haven't let what she said sunk in yet. It sounds too weird. Like science fiction. “So I have tied her to me forever,” he says blankly. “Yes,” the Oracles respond in unison. “What about… what about when she dies?” They look at each other swiftly and say, “You will die to.” That makes my ribs hurt. And my eyes sting. I don't want Angel to die because of me. I don't want to cause him pain. This is wrong. Why is this happening? I feel myself wither a little more. This room is starting to make my head ache. White, white, white everywhere. “Why did her neck start to bleed at this time?” he inquires flatly. The female touches her forehead lightly and responds, “It was the Powers that Be who started that. They feel responsible which is the only reason they are willing to even do this much for you, Warriors. You, Warrior Angelus, were on the edge. The Auguries felt the need to step in. They also knew the Slayer was deeply affected by the death of her mother. You two have always been powerful together and it was time to bring that into being again.” “More powerful together?” my sire repeats. I look around, my eyes watering and dripping. The room is spinning. Does anyone else notice? I think I'm hungry. Angel's skin smells like my hunger. “Together we are strong…” I inform him woozily. “Alone we're dead.” He glances down at me and the Oracles smile. “The Slayer is correct. But she is getting weak. You must make your decision now, Warrior.” “Make her human,” he says. “Buffy? That's what you want…” I don't know what I want. But I know Dawn needs me and I know my Mommy made me promise so I nod. “Yes.” Together the two gold and silver figures begin to chant. They touch me and smooth my skin with their cool as glass fingers and murmur incantations. Suddenly my chest hurts and I realize I have to breathe. Collapsing against Angel, take ragged breaths and wheeze slightly. “It is done. Go now.” Angel doesn't fight their command. He picks me up and walks from the lighted chamber to the bleak darkness below the post office. It is gloomy and the slight flecks of fire in the clay pot glow like dying ash. I'm warm. It feels strange and good. I'm not hungry anymore. I don't like that. “I have to go home. My Mom's… funeral is tomorrow,” I tell him softly and he leans down, brushing a kiss on my brow. “I'll go with you.” “I know,” I breathe quietly and lean against him momentarily. He holds me and we just stand there, in the darkness for a long time. next