Part Seven
"Principal Snyder!" Buffy leapt to her feet, as did Giles.
"We can explain," Giles began, but Snyder cut him off.
"Oh, yes, an explanation. Let's see you talk your way out of this. On school grounds well after hours, with a clear fire hazard--" He waved his hand at the candles, guttering in the breeze from the open door. "--and are we torturing someone? That is clearly not a student." This was with a gesture towards Angel, who snarled around the gag in his mouth. "I don't see any explanation that won't end with every single one of you being expelled, and you fired." He glared at Giles again, a smug smile firmly in place on his face.
"Very well." Giles nodded fractionally towards Buffy, who resumed her seat with great and obvious reluctance. "An explanation, then. The truth? Are you certain you can handle this, sir?"
"I'm waiting." Snyder's impatience was masked with smug calm. Around the table, varied looks of shock, panic or fear had frozen every face except those of Clarissa and Michael, who merely looked puzzled.
Giles took a deep breath and tugged on the lapels of his tweed jacket. "Since it has not become apparent before, I feel it is only fair to point out to you that Buffy is the Slayer, I am her Watcher--" He continued despite Buffy's gasp. "--and we are performing a restoration ritual to return this vampire's soul to his body." One hand gestured almost negligently towards the bound Angel.
Snyder's jaw dropped. And stayed there, for several long moments. Then, suddenly, he began to laugh.
It was the absolute last reaction that any of them had expected. From chuckles, Snyder's laughter grew into guffaws, until at last he was bent over, hands propped on his knees, wheezing for air.
Giles took a step forward. "Principal Snyder, are you all right?"
Snyder stood slowly, his eyes still dancing with mirth. "Slayer. Vampires. Right," he fairly giggled. "Very funny, Mr. Giles. Now how about the truth this time?"
The librarian blinked at the principal, clearly stymied. "Not meaning any offense, but I'm not lying to you. That is the absolute truth. Buffy is the Chosen One."
The Chosen One in question was beginning to panic, and she jumped up, hurrying around Giles to interpose herself between the two men. "Don't listen to him, he's been under a lot of stress lately, he just needs his medication and he'll be fine, right, Mr. Giles?" she babbled, tugging at her Watcher's arm frantically.
Snyder looked at Buffy for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I do believe you're right, Mr. Giles. Please, accept my apologies for the interruption." And as if nothing were out of the ordinary, he turned and left the library, shaking his head in astonishment as he went.
"Now I've seen everything," Xander commented into the silence that blanketed the room.
"I think he believed me," Giles said faintly as Buffy released his arm.
"That would be my fault." Clarissa came around the table, matches in hand, to re-light a couple of candles that had gone out upon Snyder's entrance.
Giles turned to look at her. "How so?"
"Mild persuasion," she replied. "Not exactly a toughie, just kind of... lets people believe things easier than with a lot of arguing."
"Ah." He aided her with the lighting of the candles, and once that small task was accomplished, they resumed their seats.
Cordelia had to light the sage again to get more smoke going; she was looking decidedly annoyed, but didn't protest as she waved the bundle over the Orb once more.
This time, there were no interruptions of the ancient text. Clarissa had opted to speak it in English so that all present could understand what was happening.
"Not dead, nor not of the living," she read from the grimoire. "Spirits of the interregnum I call."
Her voice grew deeper, the intonations harking back to the teachings of her youth, and she felt herself recalling her old teacher once more, as if Magdalena's hand were somehow guiding her through the incantation. She reached into the bag of runes, pulling out four stones and tossing them to the table.
A sudden breeze swirled through the library, sending the candle-flames sparking wildly. Clarissa's eyes widened in response. That wasn't supposed to happen--
She continued with the recitation nonetheless, warding off a surge of sinking fear, and felt herself begin to sink deeper into the magic. The energies were almost palpable, almost visible, in her heightened state of awareness. Dimly, she noticed other sound, but it seemed faraway and pale, unimportant. She continued to chant.
A door slammed open. Then another.
"Give me back my Angel!" screamed a woman's voice.
Clarissa snapped from her trance rudely and without warning. Disoriented, she swung forward, gripping the table for support. Her eyes were flashing, spots of light everywhere, and she couldn't tell what was going on. Feet pounding, voices--
"Michael?!" she whispered. He wasn't there. She blinked furiously, attempted to re-focus herself on the world around her.
The library was full of motion. Shapes blurred and moved past her faster than she could see. And then everything slapped into focus, like a camera lens suddenly coming to resolution.
Drusilla stood at the mezzanine level, facing off against Buffy. There seemed to be vampires everywhere - no matter where she looked, there was conflict. Giles was apparently holding his own, Oz and Willow helping Xander and Cordelia against two vampires, and Michael was surrounded by three. Clarissa tried to fight the mental fog that clouded her head. She had to do something, to help--
Yet even as she watched, the tide was already beginning to turn. And seeing Buffy deliver a series of solid punches to Drusilla's face, Clarissa realized what she had to do.
Drusilla wanted Angelus. She wouldn't want Angel.
Her knuckles were white as she clutched the table's edge, but she managed to get herself standing upright once more. Ignoring the book - she had memorized the spell already - she began to chant, gathering the energies once again.
There was a screech from above her, but she didn't notice it, lost in the trance as she was. It was all she could do to maintain control of the energy; there was a second locus there in the library, a dissonant, chaotic center that tried to pull the magic to itself. Clarissa yanked hard, screamed aloud, and heard, more with her mind than with her ears, the thud of a body collapsing.
Now the magick was all hers again. Taking it in both hands, she shaped it with words, bade it do her will, and sent it out into the ethereal dimensions. And then, a response -- a glow from elsewhere, so bright it could hardly be viewed with the naked eye. Gently, she gathered it to her, pouring it into the Orb. She swore she could feel the brush of gratitude and love as it passed through her.
All that needed be said now were the final words. She spoke them without hesitation, one part of her mind warning her to be cautious with the amount of force she used; though she felt right now as though she could move mountains with her mind alone, she could damage the target and herself as well. Toned down, then, she focused the energies one last time.
The Orb disappeared.
The vampire screamed.
He strained forward against his bonds, for a long, agonizing moment. Then, just as suddenly, he slumped, leaning listlessly against the ropes that bound him to the chair.
His cry of pain came simultaneously with the last shout of a vampire on the wrong end of a sharpened piece of wood, wielded with inexpert skill by Xander. He'd used some of the fighting moves learned from patrolling with Buffy, but it was Willow who had brought a heavy dictionary crashing down on the vampire's head, dizzying the creature long enough for Xander to grab a stake from Giles' stash. Together, the two looked around, dazed, at the library.
Drusilla was collapsed in a heap where she'd been standing; she twitched occasionally, whimpering, no longer a threat to anyone -- at least for the time being. Michael had one final opponent to take care of, and he was dealing with flair; Giles, meanwhile, had also managed to batter into unconsciousness the vampire who had attacked him. That left Buffy, who was hovering over Drusilla to make sure she wasn't shamming. At Angel's cry, however, she darted down the stairs and around the table.
Sound gradually returned; eyes refocused on a world less brilliant, less lovely, but much more solid and real. Clarissa gave up thanks to the spirits as they departed. The sudden loss of energy was draining, and she would have fallen in a heap on the floor had Michael not suddenly been there, catching her, his arms warm and safe and strong. He had a cut over one eye, but it didn't look serious, and his eyes were worried.
"It's all right," she whispered. "It's done."
"Everyone okay?" Xander called out. Cordelia was the first to reply, with a quiet affirmation. Seeing the cuts and bruises that she'd incurred during the fight, Xander swiftly fetched Giles' first-aid kit from the office to begin tending to her. Willow looked for Oz, who had fallen back against a bookcase during the fight, still weak from being knocked out earlier in the evening; but aside from a scrape on the arm, he was all right, and reassured her of the fact several times while she bandaged him up, babbling a blue streak the whole time about how glad she was that he wasn't hurt any worse. Once his scrape was taken care of, he gathered her into his arms and held her.
Buffy had knelt by Angel's chair, touching his face. She was starting to get worried; he didn't seem to be coming around. But no, there, his eyelids were twitching, and then a low groan issued from his throat. His head came up slowly, with great effort. Squinting in the dim light, he peered at her. A strange mix of emotions crossed his face -- from astonishment to shame, love and fear, all at once.
"Wh--what's going on?" he managed to get out softly, through a throat clogged with emotion.
"Angel," she whispered throatily. "God, is it you?"
"I -- I don't know, everything's confused... Where am I?" He looked around slowly. Recognition combined with puzzlement registered in his eyes. "The library? How did we get here? The last thing I remember..."
He winced suddenly, trying to move a hand to touch her. "I -- you tied me up?"
She started tugging at his bonds without another thought. Their conversation had reached Xander's ears, and he couldn't keep himself from calling out.
"Buffy, wait! What if he's acting?"
Buffy's gaze flew to meet Xander's. She acknowledged his warning with a sharp nod, then looked back at Angel.
"What do you remember?" she said softly, leaning back on her heels.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm... I'm not sure." She could see the awareness dawning across his face, then, as the memories began to click into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. "I remember... oh, God. I remember you -- us..."
Buffy fought back a flood of emotion. Biting her lip, she struggled to keep her hands in her lap. She wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but she still didn't know for sure.
His voice was trembling, and he stared down at the floor as he spoke.
"I woke up... it was still raining. I hurt all over, inside and out... I ran outside, tried to get away..." His eyes flew up to meet hers, then; his were haunted and dark, full of shock and misery. "I was gone, but I wasn't... God, what did I do? What happened?"
Buffy couldn't contain her tears now, or prevent her shaking hands from reaching for him. She untied his bonds effortlessly, pulling him close into her embrace.
At the sight of the two comforting each other, Giles released a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He looked to Michael, who was still cradling the weak Clarissa in his arms, rocking her gently. Michael nodded quickly to the Watcher, and Giles turned next to check on the others.
Angel's body shook uncontrollably in Buffy's arms; she couldn't calm him down, not when all she wanted to do herself was sob in relief and joy.
Then he jerked away from her abruptly, his eyes bleak and shadowed. When she reached for him, whispering his name in a confused voice, he stood up, knocking the chair away as he backed up from her.
Slowly, his gaze traversed the library, settling upon each person in turn; and as he saw them, memory supplied the gleeful torments he'd inflicted on each--
--grabbing Xander and yanking him out the window, flinging him bodily to the ground a full story below; he'd been about to feed when the boy had been rescued by Drusilla's untimely, and unlikely, intervention--
--trapping Cordelia on the ground in the graveyard, scaring the girl half-senseless; ready to pierce her neck with fang teeth, then brutally he was yanked away--
--gripping a shaking Willow by the throat, oh, it was delicious, how she'd trusted him, even that idiot Xander had taken the bait--
--it had taken forever, but lighting the candles, scattering the rose petals, setting the old record player to start at just the right moment, had all been worth it to see the look on Rupert's face when he saw her empty-eyed stare, the broken body--
The images came faster now, overlapping until he couldn't tell what was real and what was remembered.
--the sharp crack of Jenny Calendar's neck reverberating in the empty school hall--
--the look of disbelieving pain on Buffy's face as he'd casually, cruelly, mocked her, mocked them and everything they'd been to each other--
--Joyce Summers's shocked stare when he'd deliberately blurted out the news of the night he had spent with Buffy at precisely the worst moment--
--the fright in Willow's eyes when she'd come to in that cage--
--sweet tang of salty blood, Theresa had been so delicious, so damned easy to dupe--
--the sound of Oz's head thudding into the tree, his body slumping to the ground--
--every punch, every kick, every slap he'd delivered to the one whom he'd loved, who'd made him feel human, who he'd hated--
His legs were steadier underneath him now. He felt like he was going to be sick. In shame, he turned and ran.
"Angel!" Buffy darted to her feet to give chase, but Giles was there, placing a hand on her shoulder, restraining her.
"Let him go," her Watcher murmured. Buffy turned, her eyes full of tears, and buried her head in Giles' shoulder.
Only a moment later, though, she pulled away. Rubbing her cheeks with the backs of her hands, she moved over to her friends. She looked tired, devastated, as she quietly inquired as to their well-being.
"I'm so sorry, you guys," she started to say when she saw the cuts and bruises they'd assembled, but Willow shook her head, cutting her off with an arch of one slender eyebrow.
"Like you wouldn't have been here for us?"
The Slayer pressed her lips shut tight to avoid another rush of tears; instead, she embraced Willow tightly, then Xander and the others. Feeling more reassured, she stood, moving to the remaining two vampires.
Clarissa was sitting in a chair, holding her head; Michael stood behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. The chovhani gave Buffy a smile, wincing slightly as the expression teased at her headache.
"Are you all right?" Buffy asked quietly.
Clarissa nodded gingerly. "I will be. Just need a good day's sleep while the magic sorts itself out of my head."
"I wanted to say... thank you." The young woman looked down at her hands, which were busying themselves by tangling fingers with each other.
Clarissa narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at the Slayer. "You're welcome."
"Uh, guys?" Oz had stood, and as he glanced toward the upper level, the others followed his glance to where the unconscious form of Drusilla remained slumped in a heap.
"I'll get her," Xander promptly declared. Grabbing a stake from the pile he had been whittling earlier in the evening, he headed up the stairs.
"Uh, Xander, she may be out of it, but that's still Drusilla we're talking about," Buffy noted dryly, even as she moved to intercept him.
"Awake vamps are one thing," he replied easily. "I think this one's right up my alley."
Buffy attempted to keep her giggle to herself, which only resulted in a snort, and glanced over to see Clarissa smiling as well. Then the vampire winced again and rubbed her forehead. "God, she nearly threw off the whole thing," she muttered. "Somehow she could sense the energies I was using--"
Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by Willow's scream and Xander's yelp of distress. Every head turned; Drusilla stood tall between the bookcases, her face a fright-mask of rage. Xander dangled from one of her hands, held high enough that his sneakers were inches from the carpet. She let out a snarl.
Buffy's transformation from seventeen-year-old girl to Slayer was instantaneous. She planted a foot on the nearest chair and launched herself over the railing. As she landed, she scooped up the stake inadvertently dropped by Xander, and came up with the business end pointed at Drusilla.
"Drop him."
Drusilla hissed, but her hand opened, and Xander fell to the floor with a thud. He moaned and promptly began to crawl away. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief that he was all right; then she assumed a fighting stance, tucking the stake into a sleeve.
"You've got your Angel back, don't you?" Drusilla growled. "Pity you won't live long enough to enjoy it."
Buffy responded by whirling in a circle, swinging a high kick at the vampire's face. Dru grunted, but was otherwise unfazed; she grabbed at Buffy's hands, which were held before her face in a protective blocking style. "Come on, little bird, look at me."
"No thanks, you're not that pretty to begin with." Buffy ducked the attempt, proceeding to deliver a series of solid, swift punches to Dru's face. Each one backed her up a little further until she had the vampire pinned against a bookcase.
"To think I actually felt sorry for you when Angel told me how he made you," the Slayer snarled. "Guess what?"
A spark of hope lit Drusilla's eyes. Buffy grinned, slapped the stake out of her sleeve and into her palm.
"Changed my mind."
She jammed it home with a growl of triumph. Dru's eyes were wide with fear, and then rage, and then nothing. A moment later, the Slayer was coughing in a cloud of ash.
When she turned to look at the others, it was with a confused look on her face. "What took me so long to do that?"
"You're leaving, then?"
Leaning on the table, one hand securely grasped in Michael's, Clarissa nodded. "We did what we came to do. There's no more reason for us to stay."
"Well, ah, have a safe trip." Giles offered a hand, and she shook it solemnly, as did Michael.
"Take care," offered the male vampire with a hint of a smile.
Buffy, standing by Giles' side, smiled to them once more. "Thanks again," she said quietly.
Clarissa nodded. "I hope it works out for you."
As the two vampires turned to go, the rest of the group waved, and someone was even heard to call out a wish of good luck. (Xander would later fervently deny any allegations that it might have been him.)
"Well," said Giles on a tired sigh, "it's late, and I still have to clean up here. And figure out how to convince our dear Fuhrer that what he saw tonight was nothing more than a bad dream."
"We'll help," Willow offered, earning dirty looks from Xander and Cordelia.
"No, no, that's all right." Giles pushed his glasses up, surveyed the room. "You should all get your rest. I'll see you on Monday."
"That's right, it is Friday, isn't it?" Buffy steered around the table, picked up the leather jacket and swung it over her shoulders. "See you all later."
She departed ahead of the others, a decidedly pleased expression on her face. Cordelia only sighed.
"Geez, you'd think she had a date or something."
"You don't think she went to see Angel, did you?" Oz looked puzzled as he took Willow's hand. As a group, the four began to head from the library.
"She probably just wants to make sure he's all right," Willow replied thoughtfully.
Her friends knew her better than Giles. Instead of heading home per his request, Buffy took a different route. Her footsteps were hurried as she darted through the quiet streets of Sunnydale. It wasn't ten minutes before she was descending the concrete stairs to a basement apartment she'd thought never to visit again. Yet somehow, she had a gut feeling that Angel would return there, to the place he'd lived previously.
The door was closed; out of politeness, she knocked. A lack of immediate response worried her. Maybe he'd gone somewhere else... But after a minute or so, the door opened, and there was Angel.
He looks like hell, was her first thought. Then again, she couldn't be too surprised; after an ordeal like the one he'd been through, anyone would look the worse for wear. Even Cordelia.
"Hi," she said softly when it appeared that he wasn't going to say anything.
"Uh, hi," he replied. The look in his eyes betrayed confusion, consternation.
"Can I come in?"
He stepped aside, admitting her to the apartment, and then closed the door behind her. She took a few steps, stopped and turned to look at him.
"You came back," was all he could get out.
"Yeah," she said slowly in agreement. "I wanted to see if you were all right."
He shrugged. "I suppose. Considering the day I've had."
"True." She glanced around, blinking as she caught sight of a partially-packed suitcase on the bed. It struck her like a physical blow: she felt her heart stop, then kick over into high gear. Amazingly, she managed to keep her composure to repeat the words Giles had spoken earlier.
"You're leaving?"
He nodded awkwardly. He had yet to look at her; his gaze went everywhere but the spot where she stood. "I -- I can't stay."
"Where are you going?" She had to force the words over the lump in her throat.
"I'm not sure." He moved over to the bed, closing the suitcase and sitting next to it. "Somewhere that's not here."
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him challengingly. "Why?"
He gave her a sharp look. "You're kidding, right? I can't stay here. Not after everything I've done."
"But you didn't--"
"It may have been the demon running the body, but it was still me." His voice grated, and he fought to stay calm.
"Angel," she whispered.
"Honestly, I don't even know how you can stand to touch me now."
The tears that had been threatening began to spill, now, no matter how hard she fought them. "God, I just got you back and I have to lose you?"
He looked down at his hands, at the floor between his feet. "I'm sorry. But it's better if I go. If I stayed -- I'd just be a constant reminder of all the things I did. And you can't trust me. This way, there's less chance of anyone getting hurt again."
She was silent for a long moment, gulping back sobs.
"Yeah," she finally whispered. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
He couldn't stand her pain any longer. He stood, closed the distance between them in three steps, and took her in his arms. For a long time, he held her, rocking her gently in his arms, brushing the tears away from her cheeks.
"If there was another way," he said into her hair, "believe me, I'd take it."
"I know," she replied, and sniffed hard. "You know, Giles talks all the time about how I need to accept my duties as a Slayer... maybe you being gone will help."
She was starting to sound a little more positive now, and he bent his head to look her in the eyes, raising her chin with two fingers.
"I hope so," he replied.
"Will you come back?"
He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I don't know. I can't say."
"O-okay." She tucked her head against his chest, relishing the smell, the feel of him. Every moment was sharp and crystal-cut, imbedding itself in her memory for the times she'd have to be without him. "Angel?"
"What?" He looked down at her again.
"Will you miss me?"
"Every minute."
"I love you," she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was tender and sweet, possibly even moreso than their first one. As his hand cupped her cheek, she leaned into him, feeling her heart break with every touch, every caress. Then she broke off the kiss, reaching for his right hand.
"What is it?" he asked.
She was touching the claddagh ring he wore there, the twin of one he'd given her on her birthday. "You've worn the ring backwards ever since..."
"Yeah," he replied quietly, and didn't resist when she gently tugged it off, reversing it so that the point of the heart faced in, toward his hand instead of toward the fingertip. Unable to resist, she placed a kiss on the symbols of the ring.
"I should go," he whispered, throat thick with emotion.
"Do you have to leave tonight?" Her eyes were bright when she looked up at him.
"I should..." he repeated, and then trailed off, heart wrung at the sight of the heartbroken expression on her face.
"Please," she murmured. "Just tonight. I don't know if I'll ever see you again."
"Oh, God, Buffy..."
It had been so long since he'd held her, truly held her; the body remembered, even if his mind still couldn't connect the memories up with what he knew. In the end, he couldn't resist her, even if he'd had half the will to. And much later, as they lay together, he kept his eyes open and watched her as she slept: the smooth line of her cheek, her shoulder, her hip; the winsome way her hair drifted down over her long lashes; the pout of her full lips; the exquisite shape of her fingers. He memorized every detail of her, cherishing the warmth of her body and the gift of her love.
"He just left?"
Buffy nodded to Willow as they strolled down the main corridor of the school and out into the courtyard. "But at least we got to say goodbye this time. And maybe he'll even come back."
"Buffy, I'm really sorry," Xander began, but Buffy stopped to look at him, shaking her head.
"You don't have to apologize," she replied. "I understand."
"No, I do," he said. "I know I got to be kind of, well, a jerk, and I just wanted to say that if he does come back... I hope you're happy together."
Buffy blinked at her friend for several moments, speechless. Then she smiled softly.
"Thanks, Xander. That means a lot."
He smiled down at her and gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. "I gotta run. Cordy's giving me a ride home."
"See you," the girls called after him as he took off towards the main entrance. They continued at a more leisurely pace. Willow fiddled with the straps of her backpack for several moments before finally asking the question she'd been trying to figure out how best to voice.
"Are you okay?"
Buffy nodded. A shadow crossed her eyes for a moment, but she shook it away determinedly. "I think I'd already kind of got used to not having him, if that makes sense. So now that he's not here, physically I mean, it's not so bad as if he'd had to leave after my birthday party. I'm used to it."
"But you miss him?"
"Every second."
Buffy sighed and squared her shoulders as she and Willow came out of the front entrance, where her mother's Land Rover could be seen parked at the end of the walkway. "Now I just get to figure out how not to tell my mom why I'm in a mood."
Willow chuckled. "You're on your own there. I'll call you tonight."
"See ya." Buffy waved to the redhead as she headed off, then headed toward her own ride.
She actually felt pretty good, despite the fact that she felt as if she should be moping around like a lovesick idiot. Her parting with Angel had been on good terms, even if she'd been crying and he'd been close to tears himself. She could understand why he felt he had to go, even if she didn't want him to leave; and something had occurred to her later on that weekend, while she'd been doing some aerobics that left her mind free to wander.
She had clashed with Giles a lot about duty. Duty to her calling, responsibilities thereof, the necessity of preparation. The times she hadn't paid attention, she'd generally been called on it, and often in the most unhappy of ways. This was like one of those times: something she didn't want to do, but couldn't get out of. If Angel had stayed in Sunnydale, maybe something tragic would have occurred -- there certainly was no way to tell. But she did know that there had been times when she'd neglected her duties in favor of spending her patrolling time smooching in the graveyard with Angel.
It was strange to think that she was looking forward to being a Slayer. Getting rid of Drusilla, that had helped a lot, reminded her of who she was and what could happen if she didn't do her job. Xander could have gotten killed, everyone could have died.
For about the hundredth time that day, she gave a mental thanks to Michael and Clarissa, wherever they were. And grinned to herself as she thought about how upset Spike had to be, right about now...
this page last updated on 18 january 2003