Part Five
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Willow shivered slightly as she stood beside Giles outside the Summers' house on Revello Dr. It wasn't that it was cold; the coming summer had already made midday very warm. It was a sense of premonition and nervousness that made Willow rub her arms against a chill.
This just felt very strange. She had barely spoken to her best friend since classes had ended and they'd both gone to live with their parents for the summer. Now she was standing outside her house, both happy and petrified. She just had this sense of terrible things to come. She couldn't explain it.
Giles knocked on the door firmly. Willow hung back on the front steps until Giles gestured for her to join him and the door opened. Mrs. Summers peeked around the door for a moment, then flung it wide to greet them.
In that moment Willow could have sworn she looked tired and much older than usual. It was replaced so quickly with a warm, welcoming smile, though, that Willow wondered if she'd seen that at all. "Come in!" Mrs. Summers said brightly, holding the door open for the both of them. She ushered them into the house, looking pleased. "How are you both? Would you like something to drink?"
Giles shook his head firmly. "We need to speak to Buffy. Is she here?"
Joyce's smile slipped. "Has something happened?" she asked, concerned.
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Giles replied seriously.
Mrs. Summers nodded, her expression the epitome of 'concerned mother.' "Please, if you have any idea…" she hesitated for a moment, as if she was uncertain whether she should say what she wanted to say next. "Perhaps…she needs a vacation. I've thought about having her spend the summer with her father, but…"
Willow expected Giles to dismiss the notion out of hand on account of demons and all, but he surprised her. "That may be exactly what she needs: some time away from the Hellmouth. I could mention it to her if you like."
Mrs. Summers smiled in relief. "She's in her bedroom, cleaning," she said finally.
Willow smiled gratefully and followed Giles up the stairs towards Buffy's bedroom. The door was open and Buffy was not cleaning. Instead she was sitting on the bed, staring out the window. From the tension in her posture Willow was glad she couldn't see Buffy's face.
Giles knocked on the doorframe to get her attention. She turned to see them and in the moment before she plastered on a false smile Willow caught a glimpse of a soul-deep despair in her eyes. Then her gaze went blank and she gave them a smile that never reached her eyes.
"Hey," she said with force gaiety. She jumped to her feet. "What's up? Demon? Vampire? New baddie bent on taking over the world?"
Both Willow and Giles hesitated. Willow shifted on her feet and Giles took off his glasses in a nervous gesture. "None of the above…or, well…vampire, I guess…" Giles began.
"What is it, Giles?" Buffy said, seeming amused by his discomfiture.
"We need to talk with you about Angel," Giles said abruptly.
Buffy turned away from them, suddenly busying herself in the task of organizing her desktop. "What about Angel? He's dead. End of story."
That wasn't always the end of story in Sunnydale, though. "This is important, Buffy. You must tell us what happened."
"What's to tell?" Buffy said, still not looking at them. "Vampire meets sunlight, vampire is dust. End of tale." She was nearly pacing as she rearranged her things. It was making Willow dizzy.
"Buffy," Willow started to say softly," but she wasn't heard. Giles had gotten right in the Slayer's face and said in his sternest authority voice, "Sit down."
Buffy sat on the bed like her strings had been cut. She stared at them, her eyes wide and panicked. She looked like a trapped animal. Giles softened and knelt in front of her sympathetically. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I know you don't want to talk about what happened. But we need to know, and I think you need to face it. Put the past where it belongs – behind us – so we can move forward."
"The past where it belongs?" Buffy asked faintly, devoid of emotion.
Giles flinched slightly. "Yes, well… Perhaps you should start from the beginning. What happened when you first went to see Angel?"
"He…he…" She seemed flustered. Real emotion seemed buried just beneath the surface. "I can't!" she suddenly cried out. She shook slightly.
"You have to," Giles urged.
Willow saw in Buffy's eyes that she was shutting down again, building walls between herself and her emotions. Willow sat beside her friend and clasped her hand. "Buffy," she said softly, "when you came back from L.A. you had a bruised lip. Did the police do that? Or Faith?"
Buffy shook her head. "Angel," she said flatly.
"Angel hit you?!" Willow asked in surprise.
"I hit him first," Buffy said so quietly she could barely be heard.
Willow looked at her in shock. "What…what…?"
Buffy spoke again, very quiet and her voice emotionless. "I got to Angel's apartment alright. I went downstairs to see him. He was with Faith – she was crying, her hands covered with blood, and he was holding her."
Willow tried to stifle a gasp. Buffy had always had doubts when it came to Angel and Faith together. Seeing him holding Faith right after everything she'd done to Buffy must have been shattering. Willow squeezed Buffy's hand slightly.
She didn't even acknowledge it, but continued describing events weeks past coldly. "I was angry," she said. "I yelled. He told Faith to go upstairs. I tried to go after her, but he stopped me. I hit him. He hit me back."
She fell silent for a moment. "What happened then?" Giles prodded gently.
Buffy stared out the window as she continued to speak. "We yelled at each other for a while. I couldn't believe he actually hit me. Then…" She looked confused. "It all happened so fast after that!"
"What did?"
"The fighting. Those Watcher goons came out of nowhere to kill Faith this time. They didn't care who got in the way – they were shooting up the whole place. Faith and I ended up on the roof with a helicopter shooting at us."
Her face softened slightly as she continued. "Angel jumped onto the helicopter and forced it to land. The police were waiting for him on the ground. He was arrested – aiding a felon. Faith disappeared somewhere in the shuffle.
"Cordelia, Wesley, and I went to the police station, too." Buffy's formerly empty eyes suddenly hinted at a buried anger. "One of the cops knew what Angel was. She said she was going to put him in a cell where he could see the sunrise." Her gaze darkened. "I was shocked that she could so coldly murder him. She's supposed to be a cop – protect people, not kill them. When I started to argue with her Angel said I was nothing and let her lead him away.
"I couldn't let her," Buffy said, her voice clearer now with a hint of sadness sneaking in. "So I fought. I tried to tear my way through the station to get to him. The whole time, though, he just *let* them take him. I couldn't get to him without killing someone, and a group of the police carried me out of the station."
A single tear rolled down her cheek unnoticed. "I tried to find another way in. When I couldn't, I decided to climb the eastern side of the building, find his cell, and break the bars if necessary to free him. It took all of my strength to reach him, and by the time I did it was almost sunrise.
"I found Angel sitting on the bed in his cell, staring out the window. I couldn't tear out the bars and stay on the wall; I tried but I couldn't. I begged Angel to get up, to help me, to break free. He simply looked at me, though. His eyes were so sad and he just said 'I'm sorry.' That's it." Her own posture – sitting on her bed, staring out the window, her eyes clouded with despair – was an eerie reflection of the tale she was telling. Her breath hitched in a half sob. "He was still sitting there when the sun rose just minutes later." She let out another sob, and a second tear joined the first. "He just let the sun come," she whispered, and then seemed to collapse in on herself, finally truly crying.
Willow held her best friend as he shook with sobs. How horrible! None of them had realized that Buffy had seen Angel die. Willow had seen a vampire die by sunlight before; it was a horrible, violent death. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Buffy to see Angel die like that.
"Shhh," she whispered, rubbing Buffy's back. "It'll be okay."
Buffy blinked at her through her tears. "The last conversation I had with him," she barely managed to get out between sobs, "I yelled at him. I hit him. I didn't listen to him. And then he says 'I'm sorry.' Why? Why should he be sorry?"
Willow didn't answer, for she knew that Buffy knew the answer as well as she did. Angel always blamed himself, no matter how little control he had over events. That was something they'd always known about him.
He wasn't too unlike Buffy in that respect.
After a while the sobs quieted but the tears still flowed. Bleary eyed, Buffy said, "Do you think if we hadn't fought he would have tried to stay alive?"
Willow shook her head in dismay. "You can't ask yourself things like that," she said softly, "there's no way to know."
"You mustn't blame yourself, Buffy," Giles added.
"I know," Buffy replied in a chocked whisper. "I just can't help it." The Slayer looked absolutely pathetic, her strength gone once her tears had run dry. Willow knew that no amount of comforting *she* could do would make her friend strong again.
Giles seemed to see that as well. "I don't think you should be slaying for a while," he said slowly.
Buffy looked up at him in surprise. "Why? I can take care of myself."
"I'm not so sure about that, Buffy," he said. Before Buffy could get offended, Giles continued. "Your mother suggested that you take a vacation."
Buffy let out a harsh laugh. "Vacation? Slayers don't take vacations."
"I won't tell anyone if you don't," Giles said with a slight smile.
Buffy couldn't help but smile ever so slightly in response. She sat up a little straighter and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "So, um, vacation?"
"Your mother suggested that you spend the summer with your father."
The little bit of humor disappeared from her face. "My father?" she said in a strangled voice. "In L.A?"
Willow suddenly understood why Giles was so quick to agree that Buffy should leave town. Right now, she was needed in L.A. She just didn't know it yet.
"Yes," Giles said in response to Buffy's question. "I know it's hard…"
"Sorry, Giles, but you couldn't possible know," Buffy retorted.
"Still, it'll be best for everyone if you visit your father, at least for a little while. It will give you some time to…recover."
For a moment Buffy said nothing, just sat on her bed staring out the window once again. "It has been a long time since I spent time with Dad," she conceded.
That settled it, and fifteen minutes later Giles and Willow were standing on the front steps again. Buffy had already begun packing. Her eyes were pained, but at least they held emotion now. Already she seemed to have found a bit of her old self.
Still, Willow was confused and doubtful. Something very important had been left out of their conversation. She looked at Giles oddly. "Why didn't you tell her that Angel's alive?"
For a couple of moments Giles said nothing as they walked down the street. Willow stared at him in shock, wondering if he was going to answer at all. He didn't disappoint her. "She's much too confused at the moment, Willow. Her emotions are a complete mess. Who knows what telling her that on top of everything else might do?"
"It might make her happy again. She'd go to him…"
Giles shook his head. "Or it might make her avoid him all together. You saw how guilty she'd feeling right now.
"But…if she doesn't know…how can she help him?"
Giles smiled. "That is where destiny takes a hand."
They walked a little while more without saying anything. Finally Willow could stand it no longer. "Giles?"
"Yes?"
"How could Angel be alive?" she asked. "Buffy saw him turn to dust."
"I don't know. I just don't know."
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Part Six
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Buffy was at a threshold. It was both mental and literal and it scared her to death. There was a door in front of her, a very real door, and behind it was pain and sadness. Behind it was a past she had yet to deal with.
She reached towards the door handle, then stopped herself, trembling slightly. Could she do this? She remembered Giles' words about putting her past behind her, and knew that she had to. Could she, though? Was she ready?
Putting the past behind her was a frightening concept. It meant going through a lot of pain that she'd buried inside herself. It also meant fully ending one chapter of her life. It meant saying goodbye.
Buffy hated the word "goodbye" now. She supposed that was in part because he had never said it to her, and she had never said it back. In some ways, that had left a little bit of hope, if not that they might someday be together, but that they would at least see each other again. Now, that wasn't going to happen. Buffy didn't know that she was ready to say goodbye to Angel.
Behind this door was an ending…. Behind this door was a first step to a new beginning.
Behind this door were friends.
Well, sort of….
Buffy opened the door.
The interior of Angel Investigations was dark as usual, the blinds pulled completely shut. It was dead silent inside, and Buffy shivered. She was not surprised to find it like this. What else could she have expected? She was surprised, though, to find the door open. It was as if any minute business would continue here as usual.
The elevator suddenly started and Buffy jumped. For a second she wondered if she was really hearing it at all, or if it was merely a ghost of her memory. If she was just imagining it, then Angel would step from the elevator and look at her in surprise, then smile slightly at her like he used to. If she imagined hard enough she could even believe that she felt him nearby, just like she always used to.
It was amazing what the imagination could do.
The door to the elevator opened with a clatter, and Buffy was somewhat surprised to see Cordelia emerge. She gave a bright and oddly relieved smile upon seeing Buffy.
"Thank God you're here!" Cordelia said, and Buffy got the impression that she could have received a hug as well. It baffled her, to say the least. She'd hardly expected to be welcome here, let alone *this* welcome.
"Cordelia?" she asked. "What…?"
"What took you so long!?" Cordelia demanded suddenly.
"So long? I…"
"I mean, I spoke to Giles almost a week ago! I thought you'd come running right down here and…"
"What are you talking about?!" Buffy yelled, seeing Cordelia wasn't going to let her get a word in.
Cordelia's torrent of words stopped abruptly and her smile changed into a scowl. "Giles didn't tell you?" she asked finally.
"Tell me what?!" Buffy demanded in frustration.
Cordelia did not answer her. Instead she asked a question of her own. "Why are you here then?"
Buffy sighed. "I'm trying to… I don't know, exactly. Maybe I just wanted…to say goodbye?" Her heart was in her throat at the thought.
Cordelia looked at her warily. "That's it? You think you can do that? Because I'm not going to let you forget the mess you caused the last time you were here."
Buffy cringed at her words. "I won't forget," she whispered. As if she could…
Cordelia looked at her sympathetically for a moment, then her expression went stern once again. "Good," she said strongly.
Buffy did not move from where she stood, and neither did Cordelia. They just stared each other down for a moment. Each refused to be intimidated by the other.
Finally Cordelia sighed. "You know if we didn't need you I'd be kicking you out right now."
"I know," Buffy said, not moving.
Neither said anything for another moment. Buffy waited impatiently, but Cordelia apparently wasn't going to give her what she wanted. "What do you need me for?" she prompted.
Cordelia looked at her a second longer. "Giles didn't tell you anything?"
Buffy shrugged. "Aside from 'go on vacation, Buffy, and have a nice trip'? No, not a thing."
Still Cordelia hesitated for a moment.
"Cordelia, please!"
"I'm thinking!" the ex-cheerleader snapped. She shook her head then. "It's easier if I show you," she said.
"Then show me," Buffy said, trying her hardest to be patient.
Cordelia said nothing more for the moment and walked back towards the elevator. After a moment Buffy followed her. Cordelia waited until Buffy was in the elevator with her, then closed the gate and made the elevator descend.
Buffy was shaking, her throat tight with potential tears, as they descended into Angel's apartment. She wondered if it still looked like she remembered, or if Cordelia and Wesley had started to pack up Angel's things. She wasn't sure which concept frightened her more.
The first thing Buffy was aware of downstairs was Wesley's voice. Actually, she could hear him over the machinery of the elevator before it came to a complete stop.
"Hold still," he was saying in his stuffy, British voice. He sounded even more annoyed than usual. "I'll never get done here if you don't *hold still*!"
The elevator came to sudden rest, and Cordelia pulled back the door. She shot Buffy a look that said 'do you see what I have to put up with?' and gestured Buffy into the apartment.
The apartment had not changed a bit, and Buffy felt her stomach tie itself into knots. Something was strange here…she felt something else…
"You're already healing too slowly!" Wesley's voice came from out of sight. "If you don't let me put these bandages on… Come back here!"
Buffy did not have to wait much longer to find out who the ex-Watcher was yelling at. A moment later the reluctant patient emerged from Angel's bedroom, and Buffy gasped. He was shirtless, his chest partially bandaged. He couldn't be here, this achingly familiar face…one she knew and loved. She'd spent the last 2 weeks mourning him, and yet…
"Buffy?" he asked in that half question she knew so well, his voice barely above a whisper.
She could not help but respond in kind. "Angel?"
His response surprised her, though. Instead of smiling, or extending words of greeting, he simply nodded as if that confirmed something and stood there, looking at her.
"What?" Buffy asked, far too confused to ask the full question that plagued her. 'What the hell's going on here?' might have been closer.
Cordelia put a hand on her shoulder, and Buffy looked at her to find her smiling slightly. "It's all right," Cordelia whispered. "Actually, that's far more recognition than he's shown anyone else. He knows your name." She shrugged.
"I… I don't understand," Buffy said finally, all the while aware that Angel was still watching her.
Cordelia sighed. "Angel," she said firmly, "go back and let Wesley finish bandaging your wounds, okay?" She looked back at Buffy. "It's like talking to a three year old sometimes," she muttered. Still, Angel hadn't moved. "Go on!"
"But…" Angel began, his eyes locked with Buffy's.
"I'll come," Buffy said. He did not smile, but headed back to his room, expecting her to follow. She looked back at Cordelia for a second before she did so. "Let me guess," she said briefly. "Some form of amnesia?" Either that or brain damage, and she really didn't want to think about that.
Cordelia nodded. "He doesn't remember…well, anything," she said. "Contrary to this little display, he normally acts his physical age at least. So Wesley doesn't think he's…impaired or anything."
Buffy nodded, taking comfort in that small fact. "You can tell me the rest in a minute," she said. She did not wait for a response, but walked into Angel's room, following him as she had promised.
He was sitting on the bed when she came in. Wesley was sitting in the chair next to him, apparently trying to reapply the bandage on his chest with little success. It got messed up again as Angel turned at her entrance, his gaze immediately catching her own. Wesley gave a little sigh of defeat looking at the ruined tape and sat back in his chair.
Buffy broke eye contact with Angel for a moment to look at Wesley. "I'll take care of it," she said. Wesley nodded and relinquished the chair with some relief and left the two of them alone in the room.
Once he was gone Buffy walked around the bed to pick up the first aid kit he'd been using. Instead of taking a seat in the chair, though, she sat beside him on the bed. For a moment she did nothing and said nothing, uncertain of what her welcome would be. She didn't know how to deal with him anymore, and that scared her. Things had been so terrible the last time they had spoken. And then…his death… Where did she even begin to deal with this?
Maybe she should begin by making this right.
Buffy licked her lips nervously. "Let me," she whispered, reaching with hesitant fingers for the partially secure gauze on his chest.
He did not flinch away like she expected him to, but rather leaned forward to help her. The movement caused Buffy's hand to come into full contact with the skin of Angel's chest, and she gasped once again. His skin was warm. Her hand pressed there like that, and she could not help but feel the faint movement of his heartbeat. She watched her hand move with each of his breaths in fascination.
"Buffy?" he asked suddenly, drawing her attention with a concerned whisper. She looked up into his familiar gaze. "Are you alright?"
Buffy shook herself out of her shock as best she could. Cordelia had said he didn't remember anything. Apparently he did not understand, then, what had startled her so. "I'm alright," she said quickly and reached for the roll of medical tape. She tried to ignore the fact that her hand was on his naked skin, someplace it hadn't been in a long time. Instead she busied herself with getting the bandage positioned correctly. She looked at what she was covering up and flinched slightly. Someone had cut into his chest the outline of a bird, its wings outspread. The shallower cuts had already healed to angry red scars. Scabs remained in some of the deeper places, and Buffy's chest hurt in sympathy. "What happened?" she whispered, partially to herself. "Who did this to you?"
"Don't remember," Angel said, then yawned.
Buffy tried to give him a sympathetic smile, but was sure she failed. "I'm sorry," she said. Gently she replaced the last of the bandages in silence.
When she was done he continued to stare at her for a long moment. She wondered what it was he was looking for. Then he yawned again.
"Rest," Buffy said simply, placing a hand on his.
He looked at her in concern. "And you?" he asked, grasping her hand.
"I need to talk to Wesley and Cordelia," she explained. "I won't be far. And I promise I'll come back."
Angel nodded and released her.
Buffy did not release the breath she'd been unaware she was holding until she had left the room. She sighed wearily and flopped down on the couch next to Cordelia. Those few minutes had been far more tiring than she thought. "He's alive," Buffy whispered after a moment.
Cordelia and Wesley nodded.
"No," Buffy said in a strong, clear voice. "I mean, he's *alive*!"
Again the two of them nodded.
"How?" Buffy asked in a strangled voice. Her head was spinning; she couldn't think of any sort of explanation for any of this.
Wesley sighed. "We don't know," he said. "Three days after he …died… a group of good demons picked him up off the street like this."
"Not exactly like this," Cordelia clarified. "For the first day he was incoherent…and spent most of the time unconscious. A couple of days after that he didn't say a word. Now…"
"He's been…a bit more himself every day," Wesley explained. "He still has no memories, though. From what Cordelia said, you are the first person he has recognized."
That reassured Buffy, but only slightly. Maybe, even after everything she had done to him, they still had some sort of connection. "You said he doesn't remember anything?" Buffy asked again. At Cordelia's nod she added, "About vampires or anything?"
"That's part of what worries me," Wesley said. "Since he is alive…human…even his own physical self can't help trigger any memories. He…*feels* different, or so I would imagine."
"So you have no clue how to get his memories back?"
Neither Cordelia nor Wesley responded for a moment.
"Guys?"
It was Wesley who spoke once again. "Giles found a prophecy. The key to Angel's memories…"
"Yes?"
"It's you, Buffy."
Buffy swallowed hard. She was the key to his memories? She didn't know…she didn't understand… "I see," she said softly. She stood. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she began to walk towards the stairs.
"That's it!?" Cordelia yelled, springing up from the couch and grabbing her arm. "You're just going to walk away? I was right; you never did care about him like he cared for you."
"I am *not* walking away," Buffy said angrily, tearing her arm from Cordelia's grasp. "And don't you dare say I never cared for him! I did! I loved him!"
Cordelia looked at her, her eyes filled with barely suppressed fury. "And now?"
"I don't know," Buffy said honestly. "It's … been a year, Cordelia. And I tried to get over him…like he wanted me to. I had a boyfriend…like he wanted me to. But don't think I don't still care about him, because I do. And I always will."
"The why are you leaving?"
"Because my dad is expecting me for dinner," Buffy began to explain. "Because I need some fresh air. Because this is all too overwhelming for me to take in at the moment. But don't doubt that I'll be back. I *will* be back."
"Why should I trust you?" Cordelia asked coldly.
Buffy did not look at her, but rather looked past her at the door to Angel's room. "Because I promised him," was all she said.
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Part Seven
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Buffy sat in the guestroom of her father's house, pensive. She'd gone to the room after dinner, turned on her portable CD player, and stared at the wall trying to calm her raging thoughts. Or at least, if she couldn't do that, distract herself from the subject of Angel.
Thus far, she wasn't having much luck.
/The winter is past and the summer's come at last,
and the small birds are singing in the trees;
Their little hearts are glad, but mine is very sad,
Since my true love is far away from me./
It may have had something to do with her CD choice. She didn't even know why she'd bought this one; anything remotely Celtic, Irish, or old fashioned inevitably reminded her of Angel. The gentle, sad tune kept forcing her mind back to her brooding ex-boyfriend. Still, she tried to fight it.
/The rose upon the briar, like the water running clear,
Gives joy to the linnet and the bee;
Their little hearts are blessed, but mine is not at rest,
Since my true love is far away from me./
/For straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare,
It's there I'll find tidings of my dear./
Maybe it was the words that trapped her thoughts on him. Granted, she had no clue what a 'Curragh' was, but she'd never felt farther away from Angel. It wasn't distance that separated her and Angel this time. It wasn't even death. Instead it was the passage of time and the absence of memory. She could stand in the same room as him and still be far away.
She hated it. She hated their distance so much it surprised her.
/A livery I'll wear,
And I'll comb back my hair
And in velvet of green I will appear; /
/For straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare,
It's there I'll find tidings of my dear./
/You that are in love,
and cannot it remove,
I pity the pains that you endure;
For experience lets me know that your hearts are full of woe,
A woe that no mortal can cure. /
So much pain here. The lack of emotion she'd forced on herself after Angel's death had at least been calmer than this inner turmoil. Once Giles and Willow had made her face her emotions again she had to look at why Angel's death had been such a blow.
She still loved him. In his own words, she tried not to but couldn't stop.
What should she do now that he had returned? What could she do?
/For straight I will repair to the Curragh of Kildare,
It's there I'll find tidings of my dear./
*Go to him,* her heart screamed, and for once her mind agreed. Her head thought about the prophecy that Wesley and Cordelia had mentioned; that only she could bring back Angel's memories. It also whispered to her of guilt; that it was her fault he had died in the first place. She had to make things right.
Her heart had a simpler answer.
*He needs you.*
That was all the reason Buffy really needed. "He needs me," she said softly, taking strength in the words. She would make this right. She would find a way.
"Who needs you?"
Buffy jumped, spinning around and taking off her headphones. Her dad stood in the doorway looking at her. "Hw long have you been there?"
"I just came to check on you," he said gently. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's okay," Buffy said, calming back down quickly. "I'm just jumpy."
Hank Summers nodded and came into the room to sit beside her on the bed. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Wrong?" Buffy nearly squeaked. "There's, uh, nothing wrong. Why would you think anything's wrong?"
Her dad gave her a disbelieving look. "There was something on your mind all through dinner," he said. "When I came in here I heard you say 'he needs me.' Who needs you, Buffy? What's going on?"
Buffy sighed. "It's…an old friend of mine. He…was in an accident," she lied. Well, it wasn't *exactly* lying, but it was definitely stretching the truth.
"I had no idea," her dad replied, sounding genuinely concerned. "When did this happen?"
"Several weeks ago," Buffy replied. "He's…healing alright, but he has amnesia. Severe amnesia."
"Oh," Hank said slowly. "Do you want to go back to Sunnydale to help?" he offered easily.
Buffy smiled but shook her head. "He, uh, lives in L.A."
"An old friend from Hemery then?" he asked gently.
Again Buffy shook her head. "We met in Sunnydale. He moved here last year right after graduation."
Her dad seemed to be watching her very closely. "I assume you saw him today. What's his name?" he asked.
"Angel. And yes, I saw him today."
He was quiet for a moment. "An old boyfriend?" he guessed a second later.
Buffy sighed. "Yes."
"Does your mom know about this?"
"Mom…never liked him very much." She looked at her father warily, waiting for his response.
To her surprise, he chuckled. "Well, your mom and I never saw eye to eye," he explained. "I promise to withhold judgment until after I've met him."
"Thanks," Buffy said in relief.
He smiled. "You still care about him, don't you?"
Buffy nodded. "I guess I do," she said slowly. "Some friends have been helping him out, but there's only so much they can do. And…he seemed…better when I was there."
Her father placed a hand on her shoulder for a second. "I know I haven't been around these last couple of years; I've only seen you once or twice," he said calmly. "You've grown up a lot."
"I have?"
He nodded. "You never would have cared this much about anyone else before you moved to Sunnydale," he explained. "I'm proud of you."
"Dad…" Buffy said, slightly embarrassed but pleased at the same time.
"I trust you," he said gently. "Do whatever you think is best. I hope Angel is better soon."
"So do I," Buffy whispered. As her dad went to leave the room she called out to him again. "Dad?"
He turned and looked at her.
"Thank you."
*****
As the sun rose the next morning, Buffy was already awake to see it in all its glory. She stood in the doorway once again, no longer undecided. This was the right thing to do.
The door opened, and there he stood as she remembered him, looking at her in faint surprise. "You came back," Angel said. He sounded shocked.
Buffy smiled. "Of course I did. I promised, after all."
Gently, he closed the door behind her.
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Part Eight
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This was becoming a routine, and Angel found he liked that. Every morning the nightmares woke him just before sunrise. He wouldn't try to go back to sleep, however, because within minutes Buffy would be knocking on the office door. He was always upstairs and waiting for her. They would then go into the apartment and have breakfast together.
Sometimes, Cordelia or Wesley was there as well, but mostly it was Buffy.
They didn't do much, mostly just sat and talked, not about the past but about the present. Empty, light hearted things. It was mostly Buffy who spoke; Angel was still nearly silent, though he felt more comfortable when she was around. Sometimes they would watch television or Angel would read from his own rather extensive library. Buffy insisted that hadn't changed – that he'd always spent much of his time reading. Though for all he remembered these books were completely new to him.
Finally, just as the sun went down, Buffy would leave once again. It always saddened him slightly to see her go, though he didn't know how to tell her that. But, just like the sun, she was sure to return the next morning.
It was one of those typical days, though both of them were…antsier than usual. Angel sat in his large comfortable chair, a book in his lap. He wasn't paying that much attention to it, though. Instead, his mind was on last night's dreams. He never spoke about what he dreamt to Buffy; he didn't want to worry her. But the dreams disturbed him.
He might have thought that his memories could be showing themselves as dreams while he slept, had they not been so out of touch with reality. Oh, sometimes the dreams were mundane enough, hazy scenes of everyday life, family and friends. Those dreams were vague, but what he did remember was the heavily accented voices and the overwhelming sensation that this was a time *long* past. He never remembered much of those dreams.
There were other pleasant dreams, but he knew these to be nothing but fantasy. Ever since Buffy had shown up in his living room, he had dreamed about her. Always they were here, in this apartment, and deliriously happy in one another's company. Those glimpses of making love to her were nothing but fantasy, if her current behavior was anything to go by. No one had hinted that they were ever anything more than friends.
He treasured those dreams. Most often, though, his dreams were dizzying nightmares that made no sense at all. Death and destruction were a common theme in those dreams, the taste of blood was another. Angel still trembled internally to think about it. The thought that he could actually come up with so many words to differentiate the tastes of blood…
Those weren't the worst of it, though. No, the dream that had caught him up last night… It was pure fear, and terror, and pain. That was the only way he could describe it. Every emotion was made real – the despair had been so heavy he could almost taste it. He had woken up with his own scream echoing in his ears.
Angel had been looking at the one paragraph in this book for the last fifteen minutes. It made no more sense this time than it had the last. Oh, he could read it just fine, even though it was in some language he couldn't name. Funny how he could remember all these different languages but he couldn't remember his own past.
He tried to discreetly glance at Buffy sitting on his couch, but found that she was watching him.
As soon as she caught his eyes, she spoke. "Doesn't it drive you nuts?"
Angel swallowed hard. "Sorry?"
"Sitting here day after day," Buffy explained. "I'd think you'd have the biggest case of cabin fever by now."
Angel shrugged. "Cordelia and Wesley said it's best if I stay here. That the police might be looking for me."
"Yeah, but still!" Buffy said loudly. "I haven't been closed up in here half the time that you have, and I'm ready to crawl out of my skin! Besides, I haven't slayed anything in weeks."
"Slayed?" Angel asked, confused.
Buffy bit her lip. "Uh, it's not important," she stuttered. The look in her eyes said otherwise, and Angel couldn't help but wonder what she wasn't telling him. "I, um, do martial arts fighting and stuff," she tried.
Still, it wasn't the whole truth. Angel could see that all over her face. What else wasn't he being told?
Suddenly Buffy jumped to her feet, an odd twinkle in her eyes. "Get up," she demanded with a grin.
Angel took the book off his lap and stood. "What are you doing?"
"Call it an experiment," Buffy explained. "You used to help me train. And physical memory is different from memories of the past and stuff. You know, like you never forget how to ride a bike?" She took an easy battle stance. "Try and get me," she said with a grin.
Angel tried to copy her stance even as he protested. "I don't want to hurt you."
Buffy just laughed at that. "You won't hurt me," she said calmly. "I'm stronger than I look. Besides, I always used to win before. I don't see this time being any different." Her smile was challenging, and she took a step closer towards him.
Buffy didn't know what exactly she was doing when she challenged Angel to fight her. She just had all this excess energy that was just begging to be released. Plus, she was completely confused as to where she stood with Angel. He was always happy to see her, but somehow he doubted he would be if he remembered how he'd gotten in this state. She'd only just admitted to herself that she still loved him, and was terrified he'd turn her away when he got his memories back. So she did nothing to reveal her feelings.
It worked well enough, but it was turning her insides into knots. In Sunnydale, she'd go out and slay to get this tension out. She couldn't here, though, not with any regularity. Not without raising her father's suspicions and who knew who else's.
So, here she was, challenging Angel – human Angel – into a fight not only that he stood no chance of winning, but where he could quite easily get hurt. He stood in his own battle stance, nearby but making no move to fight her. Here he was the one who could get hurt if she forgot he wasn't a vampire anymore, and he was concerned for her safety.
Typical.
Buffy took a swing at him, more of a feint than a real attempt. There was no force behind it and it was slow, but Angel blocked it easily. So far so good. He made no move to strike back, so she tried again, this time with a bit more force. Still he blocked it and Buffy couldn't help but grin. She knew, somehow, that he'd remember how to fight.
Angel had yet to strike back, yet slowly she pressed him, her moves becoming more complicated, faster and stronger. Still, she had yet to connect. He avoided her punches and kicks and slipped out of her attempted throws.
Finally he attempted to return the fight. The punch he threw missed as he hadn't really wanted to connect anyway, but Buffy could not ignore the force behind it. As the traded blows back and forth, Buffy smiled as the exertion made her breath harder. This was exactly how she remembered it. Sparring with Angel was always a deadly and delightful dance. For the moment, she forgot completely the time that had passed.
Then suddenly she was sprawled on her back on the hardwood floor, Angel on top of her. This was definitely *not* how she remembered it. For one thing, Angel had never won before. And she could feel the living heat of his body as he held her down, something she'd never felt before. Then there was the intensity of his gaze that Buffy fought so hard not to return.
"A successful experiment?" Angel asked, breathless from the exertion.
Buffy swallowed hard before she could speak. "Yeah, except I usually land on top," she said, and smiled to show she was teasing.
To her surprise, Angel laughed. In all the time since she had found him again, he had rarely smiled and never laughed. It was a wonderful sound. She treasured it.
Squirming out from under him, Buffy joined in his laughter. When it gone and they fought to catch their breath, Buffy looked at Angel once again. He was looking at her, grinning from ear to ear. He was so beautiful when he smiled. It made her almost loose her resolve to keep things between them within the realm of friendship.
Her own bewildered heart was enough of a problem for Buffy to contemplate. She didn't need to think about how Angel had been strong enough to defeat her, too.
At some point in their sparring, Buffy had stopped holding back, and Angel had defeated her.
That…well, that was a problem for later. Definitely later.
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