"Mourning - Me and Cinderella"

Author: Vatrixsta Cruden
Contact: trixieangelsomething@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Song credits this time 'round go to the Wallflowers.

So long ago - I don't remember when
That's when they said I lost my only friend
Well, they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees

They came together in a large van, clutching each other like refugees in a new land. Giles took Angel aside and explained the details of Buffy's crimes, told him of the police finding Riley's body, Xander's discovery of Anya. Joyce and Dawn's deaths seemed to bother Giles the most, and Angel didn't bother to tell him he'd already guessed that Buffy's family was most likely dead. It was an instinct to go after the people you'd loved. It appeared Buffy had a cruel streak in her that would attract the demon within him like a magnet.

Spike was amongst their ranks, and Angel didn't bother to be surprised by it. Nothing seemed shocking after the sensation of Buffy's fangs piercing his throat.

Angel's people occupied one side of the great lobby of the Hyperion, the Scooby Gang the other. Everyone looked uncomfortable, sad and numb, and Angel had to tamp down on the urge to start hitting something.

It was Willow that finally broke the silence.

"It'll be okay," she said quietly. "We just have to get all the ingredients together -- Giles had everything but the orb at the magic shop."

"Willow," Angel began quietly, hating what was about to take place.

"We'll just curse her," Willow said, as though it were obvious.

Angel looked at her sadly. "No, Willow, we can't."

"Yes, we can," she insisted. "I did it for you, I'm sure I can channel that gypsy spirit again and curse Buffy. I'm a lot better at magic now than I was--"

"Willow," Angel interrupted, "it's not your skill that's in question."

Everyone in the room regarded Angel now, and their scrutiny made him uncomfortable. Why did he have to be the one to say this? Why not Giles, whose sacred duty was Buffy's well being? Why not Xander, who no doubt harbored resentment toward Buffy for Anya's death? Why not Cordelia, who couldn't want Buffy to be a permanent fixture in their lives, as she no doubt would be, at least until she'd grown accustomed to living the lonely, miserable existence of a vampire with a soul?

Why weren't any of them saying it first, why wouldn't they spare him having to?

"You don't want to?" Willow sounded shocked, hurt even.

"Of course I want to," Angel snapped, horrified as tears came to his eyes. He forced them back. Once he started crying, he might never stop. "That isn't the issue, Willow. What =I= want so rarely is," he added bitterly.

"I don't understand," Willow said finally, and he made an effort to remember who he was talking to -- a twenty-year-old girl whose best friend had died a few days ago.

"It's not fair to her," he said finally, his tone much more even now. "It's... you can't imagine -- none of you can -- what it's like to live with the crimes the demon perpetrated. No matter how many times you tell yourself it wasn't really you... it's still your hands that committed those crimes." Angel's gaze strayed to Giles for far too long, memories of Jenny Calendar assaulting him, and he forced his mind back to the subject at hand. "It's still you that's ultimately responsible. Buffy feels... Buffy =felt= guilty when someone died while she was sleeping, or eating dinner. How is she supposed to deal with this?"

"You do," Xander pointed out. "You deal with it every day. Do you think she's not up to it?"

Angel shook his head. "I think she would survive it. In time, she might even start to live some kind of good life." He stared down at the ground, pulling the words he desperately wanted to keep quiet from the recesses of his soul. "But why should she have to?" His gaze met each of Buffy's friends -- her family. "Why should she have to wake up and remember killing her mother and her little sister?"

Xander flinched, and Angel felt badly, but it couldn't be helped. The boy would recover from Anya's death. Angel wasn't entirely certain Buffy would. God knew Angel never had. An image of his sister Kathleen's face flashed through his mind, followed by one of his mother, and finally, the father he'd never had a chance to mend fences with. Luckily, a voice broke into his thoughts before their faces contorted with horrified screams.

"Angel is correct." All occupants of the room now turned toward Wesley. "And I believe, given time to consider every alternative, Mr. Giles will agree, as well."

"Giles?" Willow asked, her voice plaintive. Begging him to say we aren't right, Angel thought. Begging him to say they could still save Buffy.

"This is her worst nightmare," Giles said finally. "It would be..." The older man looked directly at Angel, a wordless apology passing between them. "It would be hatefully cruel to curse Buffy. Something people who love her could never do."

"It would be for us," Angel said. "We want her back. We love her, we need her. Her soul is at peace right now, and it would be the worst kind of selfish to call it back to a body that would do its damnedest to reject it." He cut off his speech abruptly, angry with himself. Your issues, he intoned quietly, and nothing they care to hear about.

Willow moved toward him, and he was horrified to see large, crystal tears gathering at her eyelashes. The tiny redhead stood before him, a river of sorrow spilling down her cheeks. She took his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

"For cursing you again. I did it for Buffy, so she wouldn't have to kill you, but you didn't want it, and I'm so... " a hitched sob left her throat. "I'm so sorry, I just want her back. And she just wanted you back, but she had to send you to hell, and it's all my fault."

Angel placed a hand on her shoulder, then pulled her to his chest while she sobbed. "It's all right," he said quietly against her head. "It was... it happened, you did the best you could, and... and maybe it was meant to happen that way. You did the right thing, Willow. Things worked out. Just like they'll work out now. Maybe they won't be as we'd like them to, but... they will work out." They have to, he added silently.

Tara moved up behind Willow, and Angel gratefully turned the redhead into the welcoming arms of her lover. The two girls clung together, and Angel moved to the workstation that Cordelia often occupied, gripping the counter tightly. If he'd had circulation, his knuckles would have turned white. This wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

"What do you intend to do?"

It was Giles' voice, right next to him, away from the others.

"What she couldn't. What she should have."

"Are you sure that you can?"

No, Angel thought. "I have to."

"That's not what I asked, and you bloody well know it." Giles' eyes were burning with repressed sorrow and rage.

"I can kill her," Angel said tonelessly. "I just don't know if I'll survive it."

"You damn well better," Cordelia said hotly, and he was worried, because he hadn't felt her approach. "If you go kamikaze on me again and stick me with these visions, I will =never= forgive you."

Angel almost smiled. "I love you, Cordelia," he said softly. "Always remember that." Then he turned, and walked away before anyone else could speak to him.

I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else
Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
But somewhere here in between these seedy walls of dying dreams
I think her death, it must be killing me

"Lots of rooms. Must get a lot of lost souls."

Xander's words were quiet, his subdued persona since they'd all arrived unnerving Cordelia more than she wanted to admit.

"A few," Cordelia answered as they walked down one of the long hallways in the hotel.

"It's uh... it's real nice of Angel to let us all stay here. Can't be easy for him, especially given how not secret I've kept my burning hatred of him."

"Angel's just a bigger person than all of us," Cordelia answered. "I guess that's what happens when you're a billion years old."

Xander almost smiled at that, and Cordelia mentally patted herself on the back.

"I never pegged you as someone who'd work for Dead Boy, but life here really seems to suit you, Cordy." Xander chuckled weakly. "Look at me, Mature Guy."

Cordelia smiled as brightly as she could under the circumstances, acknowledging his compliment without words. Funny how she hadn't even noticed the changes in herself until they'd come and gone. It was the first time she saw the woman she'd become reflected in Angel's eyes, in Wesley's eyes, that she'd realized just how far she'd come. It made her proud that Gunn had never even known the shallow, bitchy Cordelia who'd ruled the halls at Sunnydale High.

"Here we are," she announced, standing outside one of the hotel's many rooms, "your accommodation for the duration of your stay."

"Thanks," he answered softly. "Would you -- Could you, I mean, you know, if you aren't..." He sighed deeply. "Never mind."

"Can I come in for a minute, Xander?"

This time, the smile he gave her was wide; it was the smile of the boy she'd fallen in love with. "If you want to."

With a gentle smack to his arm, she preceded him into the room.

Well, I seen the sun coming up at the funeral at dawn
Of the long broken arm of human law
And how it always seemed such a waste
She always had a pretty face
I wondered why she hung around this place

"Is there anything you'd like? Tea, perhaps?"

"Tea." A funny smile passed across Giles' mouth. "She used to tease me about thinking tea would solve any problem at hand."

Wesley winced in sympathy for the older man. "She had a beautiful soul. Quite unconventional, but immeasurably brave."

"What would you know about it?" Giles snapped. "You did nothing but put her down your entire tenure as her watcher."

"I was a different man then," Wesley stated calmly. Giles had suffered a great loss, and he refused to add to it by sniping at the other man.

"And what miraculous procedure unstuck that bug up your arse?"

"It was Angel, actually," Wesley said conversationally. "Cordelia as well. They accepted me into their lives without question. Opened their hearts and their business to me. Never made me feel inferior because I hadn't clocked the time in the field they had. Angel, especially, made an effort to make me feel needed, which I felt was quite extraordinary on his part, given my past treatment of him." Wesley moved to the small kitchenette in Giles' room and busied himself with the teapot. "Your slayer was like Angel in that way. Always willing to open her whole heart to someone. Always willing to give a second chance when it was needed."

"Yes," Giles said quietly, following Wesley into the kitchen. "She was like that."

Something in Giles' voice didn't sit right with Wesley. "I detect a but," he said, then made a face. "Please, do ignore that phraseology."

"I had planned to," Giles assured him, rooting around in a cabinet until he located a box of herbal tea. "Buffy... recently -- well, for the last year or so, I've noticed changes in her. Some were natural, some made me proud, even. Her maturity was astounding. I barely recognized the young girl I first met five years ago in her."

"Everyone changes," Wesley said reasonably. "Angel never ages, and yet even in the short time I've known him, he's gone through a remarkable metamorphosis."

"Yes, well, from what I've seen, Angel's growth seems to be for the best. Buffy... she lost what remained of her innocence after that business with Faith. Whatever she experienced in Faith's body scarred her deeply. She refused to talk about it, and I don't think she ever really forgave any of us for not instinctively knowing something wasn't right while Faith was amongst us."

"Surely that didn't completely change her entire personality," Wesley said.

"No, no, certainly not," Giles agreed, snatching up the kettle as it began to whistle. Wesley held two cups while Giles poured. "It was merely the beginning. I was supposed to be her watcher, and I saw all these weights landing squarely upon her shoulders, and I was helpless to do anything to aid her."

"May I remind you that it was never your job to aid her," Wesley pointed out. "Watchers were always intended to advise, to observe, but ultimately, to remain uninvolved."

"Yes. Well." Giles removed his glasses, angrily cleaning them with the edge of his shirt. "I tried not to care for her, but it proved an impossible task. There was just..."

"Something about her," Wesley supplied helpfully. "For the record, I don't believe myself capable of remaining unattached, either. In a manner of speaking, I've taken up the role of watcher to Angel. Granted, he doesn't need me nearly as much as Buffy needed you--"

"Don't be surprised," Giles interrupted softly. "Buffy appeared quite independent as well. So much so that I nearly left her when she needed me most."

"But you didn't," Wesley announced triumphantly. "You remained by her side until the very end."

"And I imagine you'll do the same for Angel," Giles finished, his own triumph clear.

Wesley carried his tea into the living room. "Touché," he murmured as he took a seat, settling in for a long discussion with a man he'd once borne more than his fair share of jealousy towards.

Well this place is old and it feels just like a beat up truck
I turn the engine, but the engine doesn't turn
What smells of cheap wine and cigarettes
This place is always such a mess
Sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn

Willow sat quietly on the large bed in the room that man -- Gunn, she remembered -- had shown her to. He'd taken Tara to the kitchen where the other witch could help him make dinner for everyone.

Like any of us could eat, Willow thought sadly. Angel probably can't even eat, and his hunger is way more intense than mine, even when I really want a jelly doughnut.

"You all right, Red?"

"Gaaah!" Willow cried, leaping from the bed, her hand pressed tight against her breast. "Spike. Don't =do= that."

"Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't realize you humans were so damned jumpy."

"Well we are," Willow informed him. "We're also prone to be even more jumpy when we're under tons of stress, like now." There were tears in her eyes. It seemed there were always tears in her eyes lately.

"Hey," Spike soothed gently, "I really am sorry. It's just in my nature to go lurking about."

Mollified, Willow sat back down on the bed. After a moment, she motioned for Spike to join her. He sat quietly at her side, and she was amazed at how unobtrusive he was. She nearly jumped again when his hand came down on her shoulder in an awkward patting motion.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, facing him.

"Well, the way I figure it is, Niblet would've been the closest one to the slayer, assuming the slayer had let her live. Since she didn't, that leaves you. And I figure if Buffy were still Buffy, she'd want to make sure you were all right."

"And so," Willow began, a disbelieving note crossing her voice. She let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished.

"I'm here to make sure you are," he said, then fidgeted slightly. "All right."

"I'm fine," Willow muttered defiantly, even though she was anything but.

"I somehow doubt that, Red."

"What do you care anyway?" Willow snapped. "You're probably glad Buffy's a vampire now!"

Had she been less irrational, Willow might have noticed Spike looked like she'd slapped him.

"You're in love with her," she continued, lost in her own grief, "everyone sees it. And she never would've looked at you that way as a human, but now that she's DEAD you've got a chance."

"You're about two seconds away from something very unpleasant, you little witch," Spike said in a low, deadly voice.

"Right," she scoffed. "Even if you could hurt me, there's nothing you could do that hurts worse than what's happened to Buffy."

"You think I don't know that?"

The tone of his voice brought Willow up short. He hadn't sounded like arrogant Spike, or uncaring Spike, or even evil Spike. It had been ages since she'd heard anything approaching this tone from him, and at the time, he'd been threatening her with a broken bottle.

"Buffy never would have loved me back," he said calmly, "soul or no. She's been in love with Angel from the moment she set eyes on him, and if him going all Angelus on her didn't change that, nothing will." He stared down at his black fingernails like they were the most fascinating things in the world. "And even if by some miracle she did love me like this... it's not what I want. Much as it bloody pains me to admit it -- and it =does= pain me, Red -- the girl I loved had a soul, and a conscience, and she slayed vampires because she was chosen.

"The Buffy I loved is as lost to me as yours is to you."

Willow felt the tears start again. They rolled down her cheeks in unending, spiraling waves she had no prayer of stopping.

She and Spike sat quietly on the bed, sharing their grief with each other, and the silence.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Come on try a little
Nothing is forever
There's got to be something better than in the middle
But, me and Cinderella
We'll put it all together
We can drive it home...
....with one headlight

The End

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