DISCLAIMER: I STILL don't own them. And nobody will return my calls on this travesty of abuse and mishandling of characters, damnit! Thus, I don't get any payment but profound joy from their use.
TIMELINE: August 2291
SPOILERS: Not a one. It's 290 years from canon! :)
SYNOPSIS: Rain is beginning to realize that life with Angel is just NEVER going to be simple.
DISTRIBUTION: If you already archive my fic, please feel free. Otherwise, email me! (Hey, that rhymes!)
FEEDBACK: Yes, please...
RATING: PG-13 for language... again.

Rain:

Angel came by my apartment after his meeting with Roger Lowenthal. I had cleaned up a bit -- took a shower to wash a day's worth of library dust from my skin, and changed into something a little less Slayer-ish, and a little more like a female human being. It wasn't very often that I got to dress without having to worry about grass or blood stains anymore, and I had every intention of using it to my full advantage.

I thought about Angel for every moment of it (especially the shower)… about his gallant meeting with Roger Lowenthal, especially. Had he really only come there to meet my Watcher and to put the human's fears about his Slayer training with some strange man to rest? I mean, what could they possibly have to talk about that I couldn't be there to hear?

More secrets, no doubt. Despite my growing closeness with Angel, and his slowly continuing self-revelations, I knew I hadn't even touched the tip of the iceberg of his 500 some years of life. There were still a million, billion things I didn't know about my Angel. And I was willing to bet that he and Roger Lowenthal were discussing some of them.

But, truthfully? It didn't matter as much as I thought it might. In fact, I found it surprisingly easy to forget about all my paranoia about Angel, and drift into infinitely more pleasant daydreams of warm chocolate eyes and big, cool hands… and other parts I hadn't been lucky enough to see yet.

It was so funny, how right he'd looked, standing there all big and broad like a giant shadow in the library. He spoke to my Watcher like he did that sort of thing all the time, with an innate confidence that was just absolutely mind-blowing.

Angel was obviously an old pro at walking in a Slayer's world -- at walking in my world. He fit so perfectly, it was hard to believe that all of his experience had been with someone else, instead of me. We were a natural team, working together like we'd been doing it for centuries, perfectly able to predict each other's every move and act in perfect, smooth accordance.

Angel and I were a supreme demon killing machine… and a damned fine looking couple, if I do say so myself.

That energy… that, I don't know… link, I guess, that always flowed between us made it feel like we'd been exactly like this -- emotionally and in action -- forever, instead of just under two years. I wondered a lot -- how does that happen? Are all those old theories true, that everybody has a natural mate… a soul twin, so to speak… and they're fated to meet over and over again, across lifetimes? Had I known Angel in some ancient past? I'd never really been much for that kind of philosophical mush before -- I wrote it off to the same "implausible" column where I put things like… oh, say, vampires, for instance. So maybe it was high time for me to start to question some of my other beliefs, as well.

I really started to give the matter serious consideration when I thought about Angel and my physical relationship (or lack thereof). Nice irony, isn't it? Leave it to me to think about spirituality in terms of sex. But there was something… like memories, almost. Pictures in my mind… No, not pictures, more like vague sensations. I knew Angel's body. I'd never even seen him with his shirt off, and yet I knew that he liked to have his belly licked.

Tell me that's not twisted.

But that wasn't even the half of it. I was pumped full of hunches and feelings about Angel… what he liked and didn't like… his favorite things… Stuff there's no way I could have known, and yet, I felt like I did. Personal, intimate stuff that he had never even come close to sharing with me. When I fantasized about the two of us together, it felt more like I was remembering, than imagining. I couldn't help but think that Angel and I were just made for each other.

And now that he was "out", so to speak, to the only person even closely resembling an authority figure in my life, I thought maybe it was time to push things just that little bit further. Test my theories in the field, if you will.

Call me one-track-minded, but I had every intention of getting at least some -- ideally all -- of his clothes off that night. I was so incredibly turned on by his now seemingly complete and flawless integration into my twisted little universe, I totally forgot that there might be other factors to consider -- like his opinion on the matter. But thinking about that would get me back to thinking about Buffy, and all the things that she was that I couldn't be, and how his devotion to her kept him so far away from me… and right then, I was not interested in going there.

So I dressed extra carefully. You know the routine -- subtle but sexy makeup, tousled hair that positively begged to be released from its clip, and just the perfect outfit -- complementing, but still leaving plenty to the imagination.

Not to toot my own horn, but back when I was Normal Girl, I had a pretty good success rate with the males of the species. I knew how to turn on the charm without being too overbearing or obnoxious (unless, of course, that was what the occasion called for). Don't get me wrong -- I was relatively picky about my partners. In that day and age, you really had to be. But I wasn't shy by any stretch of the imagination, and what I wanted, I went after, and usually got.

I put sandalwood behind my knees, if that tells you anything. I lit all the candles in my living room, and started some sandalwood incense (It's a nice touch, to match your perfume and your air freshener… it gives the illusion that the entire room is filled with you, and that knocks most guys right out of their socks. A word of warning, however… this little tactic is less effective if your intended has the senses of a well-honed predator. They tend to get less turned on, and more overwhelmed. Just so you know.), and went carefully through my antique CD's. I had one of those old-fashioned jukebox CD player thingies, so I carefully chose some selections to play as soundtrack for the evening. Some opera, some classical… some morshy 20th century stuff like Enya, Sarah McLachlan and Stevie Nicks. You know -- mood music. All stuff I had seen Angel smile at when he heard me play it before.

Add a nice bottle of rosé… some fresh flowers… and me. Voila! Like a little seduction-in-a-box.

I sat down on the couch and read some poetry by candlelight, trying to keep my wits about me and not work myself into a drooling frenzy before Angel even got there.

Of course, in setting up his seduction, I had really set up my own. I was as drawn into the whole scene as I hoped he would be. I was far away, lost deep in a daydream of his lips on my throat when the doorbell rang.

Slamming back to reality, I realized that the moment of truth had finally arrived. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, tried to ignore Sarah McLachlan's Possession on the stereo, and went to let Angel in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel:

I was lost in thought when I arrived at Rain's apartment and rang the doorbell. I had been reading through some of the Latin sections in the D'Archit, and was rolling some of the passages around in my mind. I hadn't yet gained any coherent knowledge, of course. Twenty minutes was hardly enough time to discover more than some pretty dry, standard history of the Watchers' Council and the Sisterhood. Obviously, the things that Roger Lowenthal mentioned earlier were somewhere else in the volume.

But I had memorized every word that the Watcher said to me in the library. He spoke of Rain being a part of a particular line of Slayers, of which he had implied Buffy was the first. And I was said to be her Guardian -- not a complete surprise, as I had always considered myself that, to some degree. But those two things, and Lowenthal's further implication that this prophesied line of Slayers -- both of whom I had loved -- was somehow tied in to the ultimate fate of humanity gave all the things I thought I knew about their Calling a distinctly different slant.

It also gave me some insight into the nature of my relationship with the soul that resided in Rain, as well. Unfortunately, the Watcher had also given me the distinct impression that my romantic entanglement with Buffy's soul was somehow improper… for reasons beyond the most obvious. Once again, I was forced to pause, step back, and reconsider where I was going with Rain. Did my emotions for her somehow confound the duty she was fated to perform? Had it with Buffy? Had I somehow knocked her away from her true calling? Was there some danger I might do the same to Rain?

I decided while I waited for her to answer the door, that I would have to slow this down. I couldn't just jump back on to this freight train of emotion that I had so long ridden with Buffy. I needed to know more about my true role in her soul's existence, first.

As the door swung open, I was thinking, 'I have to tell Rain we have to back off a little, for now.'

Then I looked at her.

She was… breathtaking. I found all thoughts of Slayers and Watchers and souls and destinies wiped utterly from my mind as I took her in, and found my mind full of Lord Byron:

She walks in beauty, like the night…

Rain wore midnight blue velvet… a long, dramatic dress that plunged nearly to her belly, but lay soft, somehow, leaving her secrets still hidden securely beneath. It's material draped over the perfect lines of her curvy body, and smoothed down over her arms, just past her wrists, leaving only her fingertips exposed. Like Buffy before her, Rain kept her nails long and perfectly polished. She wore her hair up in a clip, with her trademark unruly tendrils handing down, shining as brightly in the candlelight that lit her from the back, as the silver choker she wore.

I noticed that it wasn't a cross… and it highlighted the curve of her fine throat deliciously.

"Hi," she said, her smile deep and warm as she moved aside to invite me in.

I stood there, staring at her for a long moment. She smelled so sweet, like sandalwood. The scent was everywhere, flowing out with the warm air from the house, as though Rain filled every inch of space. My senses reeled, and I found myself nailed to the spot where I stood.

The little glint in her eye told me that she expected my response -- she'd wanted it, and now was clearly glad that she got it.

"Helloooo…" she said, her seductive smile changing to just a hint of a wry grin as she waved her small hand in front of my eyes, "Are you still in there?"

I shook my head to clear it. "Yeah… sorry. I'm here."

I finally managed to move inside while Rain bolted the door behind us. Then I followed her, completely without lucid thought, like a lost child, my eyes riveted to the long, tanned slope of her back that the dress revealed, into the living room.

She motioned to the couch with a perfectly even nod of her head. "Sit," she ordered me gently.

I sat, still clutching the D'Archit in my hand. Rain poured two glasses of wine and handed one to me before she sat down. She glanced at the book I held, then back at me again.

"He gave you homework?" she asked.

I looked at her, confused for a moment, then realized what she was talking about. "This? No. It's just something Lowenthal suggested I read," I told her.

She gave me a look. "Uh huh. Well, bully for you. Guaranteed it'll be boring then," she teased, "So did he freak out on you?"

Her question startled me, a little. I hadn't really thought about it. "Not really. He was actually pretty calm, considering."

Her beautiful head tilted a little to one side, "Don't tell me he didn't get the whole vampire thing."

I had to smile at that. "He got it."

"And you're sure he didn't freak out? No, 'Oh, Sacred Duty!' or 'Fate of Humanity' Blah blah bliddy blah?"

Rain was a true poet -- an artist of modern English in exactly the way that Buffy and her friends had been. Her speech was a wry running commentary on the nature of reality that provided a depth of description unavailable to a more formal speaker. I'd forgotten how much I missed that incredible, if sometimes confusing, turn of phrase.

"Well, there was a little of that," I admitted.

She nodded, satisfied, "I kind of thought there would be. Well, at least he didn't try to stake you." Her face became serious. "He didn't, did he?"

I chuckled. "No. No stakes. Not even a threat."

Her broad smile returned. "You'd kick his ass anyway," she assured me.

"No doubt."

A bit of silence fell over us while we sipped our wine.

"Angel…"

"Mhmm?"

"Can I… ask you something… kind of personal?"

Her voice was soft, and a little unsure. She was suddenly a woman who wanted something, but wasn't quite certain how to broach the subject of what it was. I should have tried to dodge this one, but I was lulled into relaxation by the atmosphere, and her comfortable presence. I didn't see where she was about to go.

"Sure," I said simply.

"This is going to sound weird." There was something else in her voice, along with the uncertainty.

I looked deep into her eyes. "It's okay."

She needed to know that she could ask me anything. I wanted her to know that. I wanted to give her all the answers to all the questions she had ever asked in her life.

"I just… um…I, uh…Jeez. Listen to me, like a friggin' virgin or something," she muttered under her breath.

One thing about Rain that was unique -- her language. Not the colloquial slang I mentioned earlier, but her tendency to swear like a truck-driver in uncomfortable or upsetting situations. I set my glass and the book on the coffee table, and turned to face her fully.

"Rain… you can talk to me about anything. You don't have to be afraid."

She smiled. A real smile. "Okay… so. You and I have gotten pretty… close… and we, uh… we have this… this," she gestured between the two of us, "thing going on, and… I like you… you like me, and… Jesus… You know, I really thought I was going to be a lot more eloquent, here."

I smiled, but tried not to laugh at her. Rain's sudden shyness was so out of character -- she was usually bold and sassy, and pretty much felt free to say whatever it was that was on her mind. This new, softer side of her was one I didn't often have the privilege to see. It only endeared her to me more, and I waited patiently while she struggled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain:

GOD, IT WAS AWFUL!!! I was choking like I had tried to swallow a fireplace log whole or something! Yeah, that's real seductive, Summers! Impress the man with your sterling wit! Just bowl that cool, older, sophisticated guy over with your brilliant and ever so smooth repartee!

I stopped, took a deep breath, and plunged forward once again in plain English. "Listen. I'm not going to beat around the bush. I know this area is kind of sensitive to you, but I need to be honest," I leaned toward Angel, took both of his cool hands in mine, and fell deep into his eyes. In that moment, that weird feeling of connection, of familiarity, was stronger than it ever had been before. What I was saying, what I was trying to do, felt right. Perfectly and completely right, as if it was exactly what I was supposed to be doing. "The fact is, Angel, I'm crazy about you. I have feelings for you that I've never felt for anyone else before in my life. And I think that we're intimate enough that… maybe we can start thinking about taking this… whatever it is we have… a step further. Do you get where I'm coming from?"

Angel looked right through me with those fathomless mahogany eyes. They were filled with so many emotions, I could barely pick out one.

"I'm not sure," he said.

Maybe he just needed to hear me say the words. I'm not afraid of words, so what the hell?

"I want to make love with you, Angel. I want us to be together, completely."

I was totally, and I mean TOTALLY, unprepared for his response. I shouldn't have been, though, right? I mean, it took him over a year to kiss me! And he still wore his wedding ring 200 years after his wife's death! I don't know what I was expecting. But I know for sure it wasn't what happened.

Angel flinched as if I'd slapped him, and pulled away from me. He was utterly taken aback -- totally shocked. He sat back against the arm of the couch, blinking furiously for a few moments. Then, as quickly as that little fit of emotion overtook him, it was gone. The only reason I didn't just puke right on the spot was because, although he physically pulled away, Angel did not put up al the old defenses that he used to use to keep me away. He stayed fully with me, and fully open to me, despite his sudden discomfort.

"Okay…This was obviously a mistake. I'm sorry I brought it up," I said, feeling a mad blush sneak up on me as I poured myself another glass of wine, then topped his off, "You look like you can use this as much as I can."

His posture relaxed, a little, and I felt that pain flow from him again for the first time in a long while. He watched me down my glass of wine, and pour another.

"Rain, I'm sorry."

I SO totally didn't look at him. If I had, I probably either would have started screaming, or I would have just jumped up and run out of the room. Instead, I just sat there in my very fancy SUCKER outfit, and DIED.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel:

"I'm sorry, Rain," I told her. It felt lame even to say it, because it implied something I didn't mean. And from the way she reacted, practically collapsing in on herself, I knew that she assumed I was rejecting her advances. And in a very rude way.

I wasn't. Believe me when I say that I wanted to make love to Rain like I hadn't wanted anything in centuries. But the moment she said it, all of my old doubts, plus the new ones Roger Lowenthal had so kindly instilled in me that evening, came crashing back to the front of my memory, breaking the easy, sensual spell her eyes seemed to cast on me.

I moved closer to her, feeling like a complete heel, and tilted her head up so she looked into my eyes. Even if I couldn't find the words to explain what I was feeling -- and I was fairly certain I couldn't -- I hoped maybe at least she could take some comfort in the truth she saw there.

"Please. Don't think I don't want you. I do. More than you know."

She met my gaze. "But…"

"But… it's more complicated that what I want, or what you want," I explained.

Rain frowned -- a tiny blight on her otherwise flawless features. "I swear to God, if you tell me 'we don't belong to ourselves, we belong to the world', I will punch you in the face."

I smiled. That was almost exactly what I was going to say.

She saw my expression and rolled her hazel eyes, "You and Roger Lowenthal are like two peas in a fucking Sacred Duty Pod."

I stroked her blushing cheek with the tip of my thumb, and softly kissed her. I traced a little line with my lips to her fine ear, shivering all the way.

"Rain, you are the most desirable woman I have ever known," I promised her, "And someday… maybe…" I pulled slowly away and looked at her seriously, "But for now, I think we need to take it easy. *I* need to take it easy. There's a lot going on in our lives right now that we don't really understand yet. And if we rush this…"

She nodded and smiled sadly, more or less resigned, "Yeah. I know you're right. This is a lot," she relented, and laid her hand over mine on her face, "But it would be a whole hell of a lot easier if you weren't so bloody gorgeous."

I laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain:

I had a dream that night…

I sat alone in the middle of a field of wildflowers, near the edge of a cliff somewhere. I was wearing one of those flowy white sundresses and a big straw hat, and I was waiting for Angel with a daisy in my hand, and played "He loves me, he loves me not" as the sun warmed my face.

"He loves me." Pluck.

"He loves me not." Pluck.

"He loves you," came a voice from nowhere, and everywhere, all at once. A familiar voice -- one that was almost exactly mine, but with an echoing quality, like a chorus of me's speaking.

I looked around me but saw nothing. I shrugged and looked down to return to my game, but all the daisy's petals were already gone. It was as if the ethereal voice had taking the last one when it told me he loved me.

Huh. Well, it was a dream, after all. Roger Lowenthal taught me to pay attention to my dreams -- that the workings of a Slayer's subconscious were almost always important. It took me a while to figure out that some of them really weren't. I wasn't sure which this one was, yet.

"Where are you?" I asked the air.

"Here, in you," I/she/they replied.

"Oh," I said. "Okay, then who are you?"

"They call me many things… I have had many names," she replied.

Which still didn't tell me what to call her. Great. Vague and nonsensical. I was losing any hope I had that this might actually be a useful dream.

"He loves you," the voice repeated, "He needs you. He doesn't fully realize or understand it yet, but he will."

"Angel?" I asked, just to double check.

The chorus became suddenly soft, sad, and wistful. "Yes."

"Angel loves me," I repeated. I wanted to get her meaning perfectly clear in my own head.

"Yes," she confirmed, "He has loved you since time immemorial."

Huh. "Well, he has a funny way of showing it." I tossed my now-bare flower aside. I wasn't the first. Didn't this dream know that Angel had loved Buffy before me?

"Don't give up on him, Rain. You need him as much as he needs you. You are tied together. He is confused by that."

"No kidding," I said, "How do you know so much about it, anyway?"

There was silence for a moment. "Because I know him. I know you. That is the way it has always been."

I felt like I was sitting at the feet of some insane guru -- only there was no guru, and thus, no feet. Just my head. I sat quietly, waiting for her next profound missive.

"You love him. You must trust in that, always. That love will guide you… light your way when the path is dark. Be patient with him -- in so many ways he is only a child, and so vulnerable. He will learn, in time. He will stop being afraid of what was and can never be again."

Ah. Right. "You mean Buffy?" I kind-of snapped.

The voice said nothing, and I felt like I had hurt its feelings somehow. I didn't like that sensation, at all.

"I'm sorry," I told her, "I didn't mean…"

"It's not important. Just trust who you are. Trust who he is. You will know the way soon. Keep him close to you, because you are one. Always…"

I woke, nestled snugly in Angel's lap on the couch. He slept quietly, sitting up, his head leaning against a throw pillow on the arm. I noticed after a moment that the blinds weren't drawn. Trying not to wake him, I go up and closed them against the dawn that threatened just under the horizon.

I cam back to the couch and looked down at his peaceful face. His lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile, his breathing was deep and even. I wondered why he bothered to breathe at all. Habit? Comfort? I wondered even more what he was dreaming about. Did the chorus that spoke in my voice speak to him, as well? Would it give him the same advice?

Most of all, I wondered how I could possibly adore another being so much as I did him. The dream had been right about at least that -- I needed him. I also wanted him, and loved him.

And as I lay back down on the couch and rest my head against Angel's still chest, a place safer and more comfortable than anywhere else I'd ever been, and believed what the chorus had told me. We loved each other. We were one. It was only a matter of time until we worked out the details.

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