DISCLAIMER: I own Angel. I swear. I've got him chained up in my basement. ;)
TIMELINE: The still convoluted universe of a Face So Familiar... So I'm not sure. But, last time, I believe we established that it is the year 2291, the day after Rain was Called.
SPOILERS: If there are any, they're so vague, you wouldn't even notice.
SYNOPSIS: Rain's been called, and she knows Angel knew ahead of time. What happens now?
DISTRIBUTION: Oh, all my lovely archivers... Anybody new and different who wants it, feel free to drop me a line! :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I still haven't rewritten anything yet. *shrug* Oh well. As usual, will be posted at , home of the rabid, foaming at the mouth, and yet surprisingly sane... er, okay, civilized, then... Shippers.
FEEDBACK: But of course!
RATING: Oh, Geeze, I'll say PG-13. I'm not even sure if Rain will swear, but you never know.
DEDICATION: To Ria. I swear to god, if we share much more by way of sappy stories, we're gonna just MELT. Thank you for inspiring me! :) And to the Frosting Department (aka Dirty Old Women) at the Babble Board. You bring the butter knife, I'll bring the waterproof camera! *leer*

Angel:

Rain cried for three hours straight. And then, she slept for another seven. I held her close to me the entire time, watching each minute tick by on her antique alarm clock, no longer caring if she should suddenly wake and realize that she couldn't feel my heartbeat against her. It was a fear I had felt acutely many times, when she and I were close. Only one of a great many reasons I tried to stay far away from her, if I could. She was the Slayer, after all. What if she suddenly, instinctually, knew what I was? Would she scream? Would she run? Would her vampire hunter's programming, wound deep into her DNA, kick in and force her to destroy me?

That day, the day after she was Called, and I held her in my arms until long after full dark, I no longer cared. If she asked me what I was, I would tell her. If she threw me out… if she killed me, it wouldn't matter. All that held any value to me was helping her live through this sudden and shocking transformation of her life.

Like Buffy, Rain was headstrong… downright willful, actually, and spoiled, completely used to things being done her way without question. Now, her entire life, every minute detail of it, was suddenly out of her control, careening into a pit of darkness, which she now knew only second or third hand, was populated with evil, bloodthirsty monsters. It was too late to turn around. Even if Rain told Roger Lowenthal no… even if she rejected her Calling and tried to never think about demons again, her life was already permanently altered. She was already marked as The Chosen One. Although she technically had a choice, in all actuality, there was only one she could make. Whether she accepted the Council's patronage or not, evil would still cluster around her, attracted like iron to a magnet; now that she had been Called, the bounty on her head (undoubtedly dead or alive) would triple.

What she still didn't know was that it was too late long before the Watcher came to her door… it was too late even before I appeared in her life. She was the Slayer. Period.

I knew. And I think I mourned as much for her lost normalcy and innocence as she did. I remembered Buffy's constant struggle throughout her life, to just be like everyone else. She clung to the trappings of the life she longed for, and suffered every day, whether she shared it or not, for what she had lost because of her Sacred Duty. She had nothing left to trust. Nothing old and familiar to believe in.

Except, maybe, me? Maybe I was the key to Rain's success. Maybe staying by her side would help her to live as long a life as Buffy had.

I wept for her, and for me, as she slept, lying with my head far away from her on the pillows so she wouldn't feel my tears.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, I found myself alone in Rain's bed, tucked carefully under the thick down quilt she always kept folded at the foot. From the color of the sky, I could tell I'd been sleeping for at least three hours, and it was now close to midnight.

I sat up and looked around. The light in the hall was on, and I could hear Rain moving around in her kitchen. The air was filled with the smells of rich, curried chicken, steaming vegetables, pasta, and fresh coffee. If I had been human, I'm certain my mouth would have watered. As it was... the sensations were so familiar, so much like home, I had to smile.

Rain was either feeling better, or was cooking to relieve some stress. The latter was possible -- she did that, sometimes, when she was upset. When she got a C on her Pre-Roman History final last year, she baked six dozen chocolate chip cookies. When her mother chided her for not going to graduate school, she prepared the best salmon mouse I'd ever tasted. She was a fabulous cook… upset or not.

I still hoped she was feeling better. I went downstairs and found the first floor ablaze with candlelight, and the doors to the kitchen closed. One of her hundreds of 20th century CD's played softly in the background. Stevie Nicks, I think.

I made my way into the kitchen, and found Rain singing softly as she stirred some cream sauce concoction she had simmering in a saucepan on the rangetop. I leaned over her for a sniff, an automatic, thoughtless gesture… I can't come close to describing what washed over me, being so close to her. The warm scent of freshly-showered skin… the power radiating off of her … the smell of the food and the dim candlelight. It was utterly familiar… a feeling I hadn't had in centuries.

Rain felt like home.

I was instantly terrified, exhilarated, and heartbroken, all at once. I felt a little pang of joy clash with a larger pang of sorrow and longing. I was home again… and yet, not home at all. Unable to handle the intensity of it, I backed away from her slowly, casually.

Nothing had truly changed, between us. And yet, everything had. By letting down my guard and allowing her closer to me, I had re-opened that soul-deep link that I once shared with Buffy. I had let Rain in too far behind my carefully constructed boundaries, and now the battle to keep away from her became one I was no longer certain I could win.

She looked up at me, seemingly in better spirits, and happy to see me again. Her smile lit her slowly, like a low light from inside. Her long golden hair was tied back from her face, and fell in thick ringlets down her back. But like Buffy before her, she was utterly unable to control it all, and wisps of gold stood out around her face, trailing down her sculptured cheeks and almost hiding her big, green eyes. The light struck her skin just so… and for a moment more, I forgot my habit of unnecessary breath.

More of Buffy shone from Rain than ever before, and it froze me utterly where I stood.

She didn't seem to notice my reaction, which wasn't surprising, considering all that she must have on her mind at that moment.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, smiling sweetly up at me.

I nodded, unable to speak. After a moment, she cast her eyes down, as though she needed to concentrate more closely on the food before her.

"Thank you, Angel. For… everything, I guess," she said to the saucepan. Then she looked up at me again, her eyes wide, but holding a strength and surety of purpose I had never seen in them, before. I remember the day I learned about my fated destiny… or at least, the first details of it. That look on Rain's face was exactly how I'd felt, to find out that I truly did have a place in the world, after all. "I called Roger Lowenthal while you were sleeping."

I swallowed hard, and clenched my hands so tightly that my nails dug into my skin, stinging me. I had to stay in the present. I had to keep control now, more than ever, because Rain needed me. But she was so vulnerable, even with her newfound strength of body and spirit… so frightened and determined and lost that I was afraid I would do something too personal… too intimate… in order to give her comfort. I wanted to. I wanted to keep holding her, the way I had all day. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, and how we'd made it the last time, and we would make it this time, too. I wanted so many things in that moment, standing, staring down at her over the stove.

Not my job. Not my purpose, not anymore. I was Rain's friend and her teacher, not her lover. I had to remember that, for both our sakes. I had to keep reminding myself that Rain might look exactly like her… might bear her soul and have so many similarities that it was frightening, but she was not Buffy. Not my wife.

"Oh? And what did he say?" I asked her evenly.

Rain poured spaghetti out of a large pot into the strainer in the sink.

"He wants me to meet with him for lunch tomorrow," she said, "Could you keep stirring the cream sauce while I do this?"

I took up the wooden spoon she'd abandoned and stirred.

"So, I assume this means you've made your choice," I queried.

Rain stopped sifting the pasta, and looked at me.

"I had a choice?" she said. It wasn't a question, but a sarcastic remark. Her half smile was wry, and maybe a little bitter.

I considered her closely. "No, I guess you really didn't," I admitted.

***********************************

Rain:

We ate mostly in silence… not even a quarter of the food I made. Angel wasn't a big eater, which I always thought was weird for such a big guy. But it didn't really matter. I'd been cooking more for something normal to occupy my mind than for realistic consumption.

We sat in the candlelit living room after we finished dinner, drinking coffee on opposite ends of the couch. He was keeping his distance once again, as though today had simply been too much for him. And suddenly, it didn't really bother me, anymore. I knew we were close... even if we weren't... close.

"So, you've… you've killed vampires before," I said.

Angel nodded. "Many times. And not just vampires, either."

I looked at him, at the way the golden candlelight flickered shadows into his fine features. I didn't want to know what else… or, who, maybe?… he had killed.

"You're a hunter, then? I mean, is that what you do for a living?" I asked. I'd known Angel for over a year, and for the first time, I felt like I not only wanted to know more about him, I needed to.

"Not anymore. Not for a long time," he said softly, no doubt thinking of whatever sad reason had brought him to retire.

Remember how I always said that Angel was inscrutable? Neutral, all the time, and totally immune to my attempts to read him? Well, suddenly, now it seemed I could read him like a book. I know exactly what -- or rather, who -- he was thinking about. Why he was no longer a demon hunter.

"Since your Slayer died," I ventured.

He nodded once again. Pain edged his beautiful features, and my heart absolutely broke for him, once again.

"What was her name?"

The question seemed to surprise him, somehow, and his brow scrunched in thought, as though he wasn't sure he should tell me.

"Buffy," he answered. He said her name with such reverence, it would have made me weep if it wasn't such a strange name.

"Her name was Buffy? Are you kidding?" I didn't mean to squeak, but I was really surprised. Sounded less like the name of a mighty warrior, and more like a character from Beach Blanket Bingo, to me.

Angel gave me a look that hurt.

"Sorry," I said, contrite.

He shrugged. "It's okay."

"What was she like?" I wanted to know more… more about this woman who had my job, and died. I wanted to know better who owned Angel's heart… whose death had shattered it, and kept him so far away from me. Because now I was certain that he loved me, even if he hadn't said it. I felt it in the way he held me… the way he whispered soft comforts into my ear, like I was the most delicate, precious thing in the world. Now, he was distant again. It could only be this Buffy that stood between us.

Angel's eyes were far away, but his face brightened a bit, and he almost smiled. "She was… full of life. Smart. Funny. Caring and generous. Beautiful, and by far the finest fighter I've ever seen."

"Better than me?" I quipped. My only experiences in battle were with him, and I'm not sure he really counted as an "opponent".

He didn't seem to notice my humor. "Yes," he admitted reluctantly, "But she had a great deal more practice. She had an impressive kill rate."

"She sounds very special," I told him, and I meant it. She also sounded like a Hell of a lot to live up to, in every way possible.

"She was," he agreed.

"How did…" I started to ask him how she died, and then thought better of it, "How long were you together?"

He looked off into that distant point in space, and that pain that always hung around him like a cloud changed… intensified. Now that I could feel him so keenly, I realized that it was less mournful and hopeless, and more bittersweet. Whoever this wonderful Slayer had been, Angel had been as happy with her as he was lonely without her. I felt so sorry for him… I can't imagine what it must be like to watch your lover die.

"A long time," he said wistfully, "A lot of very, very good years."

Had they been childhood sweethearts, then? Angel couldn't be any more than 30. God, all the worse that he should have spent such a significant portion of his life with her, and then lost her.

"I'm so sorry, Angel," I said, reaching out to touch his arm, and glad to find that he didn't pull away, "You must miss her alot."

He turned and lay his now slightly teary gaze on me, and smiled sadly. "I do. But she is always with me."

Wow. I could only dream about someone loving me enough to feel that way, even after I was gone…

Which might not be too long, if everything Roger Lowenthal said was true. Angel must have seen my face change with my thoughts. His expression focused and softened, and he actually reached out and took my hand in his. Took. My. Hand, and gave it a warm squeeze. He looked deeply into my eyes, and I let his special glow wrap around me, soothing me.

"It feels better… to be with you," he said, his voice low and soft, "Knowing you… helping you… eases the pain."

My heart leapt suddenly into my throat, choking me. I was just going to suffocate and die in his affectionate gaze, without ever laying hands on a single monster. I wonder how that would look in the Slayer History books. But his hand wrapped around mine was like the completion of the circuit that always buzzed between us… power wavered and ran from the point where our skin touched, and washed over me like a summer breeze, full of sweet aromas and promises of comfort…

"I… I'm… glad," I managed to tell him, and squeezed his flesh more tightly against mine.

Angel's face became very serious, but he didn't let go of my hand. "I want to keep helping me, if you'll let me, Rain. I want to help you live a good, long time."

I said nothing. What… WHAT, I ask you, could I possibly have said? I don't think "Thanks" was quite adequate. And if I said anything more complicated than that, I was either going to babble, giggle, or cry, and none of those seemed appropriate, either. My best friend… my love. He could push me away, but I knew it was true. I knew we belonged to each other.

Of course, as soon as I thought it, I felt guilty. Who the Hell did I think I was, that I could replace the memory of his beloved? That I was good enough to stand in the place of a woman who inspired such adoration and loyalty in him?

"What you're facing," he went on, "I wish I could tell you it will be simple, or even that having me with you will make it easier. It won't. You'll be in danger every moment of every day, for the rest of your life."

I stared at him, still woozy from the spell our entwined hands wove, but still hearing exactly what he was saying.

"Thanks. That's comforting," I said.

Angel moved closer to me. I could feel that electricity jump between our thighs, and the attraction became as physical in that moment, as it had been spiritual, the moment before. I was more confused and overwhelmed than ever. Angel was… a lot. That's the only way I can think to describe it. He was big and powerful in far more than just body.

"I'm sorry, Rain. I wish I could tell you something more positive," he said sincerely.

Then, he took my other hand. He held them both while I tried not to swoon (No, I SWEAR, SWOON like a Victorian woman with her corset pulled too tight!), looking even more deeply into my eyes, if that was possible at that point, causing the closest thing to a panic attack in me I think I've ever had. And THEN -- did you think this moment could get anymore exciting? *I* sure as Hell didn't! THEN, he said:

"One thing I can promise you. You can always trust that I will be here for you, no matter what comes. I will always watch your back, and do whatever I can to protect you. Never doubt that I would die to keep you safe."

I just sat there like an idiot, melting, holding his big hands and trying to remember how the Hell to make my lungs work. I could feel his desire… I could feel that he wanted to kiss me, right then, as if to bind his vow. I knew it as if he had told me so.

But, true to form, he didn't. He kept looking at me like that, for a long time. Then, suddenly, the connection was cut off, and he slowly pulled his hands away and stood.

"You up for some swordfighting? I want to address that weak lower left with the broadsword," he said casually, as if he hadn't just pledged us undying fealty and loyalty to me. As though he hadn't just promised to give his life for mine.

I blinked, listening to my heart pounding in my chest. Then, I took a deep breath.

I smiled. "Sure, if you think you can handle it," I said lightly, "Why the Hell not?"

*********************

Angel:

There was a new energy to her, that night. From the way she helped me rearrange the furniture to clear space for us to spar, to the way she kicked me clear across the room when I attempted to use her not-so-weak-anymore lower left to my advantage, she was all new. Full of Power. On Fire. Like Buffy, only more so.

The fact that Rain still wanted me there was amazing, to me. After she found out I knew about her Calling before she did, but never warned her, and she still trusted me.

Rain was an incredible woman. Fighting with her that night changed my mind about a lot of things -- But most notably, I wanted to tell her the truth. All of it. About me, about Buffy, about her identity… I wanted to open my soul to her, and let her step inside, at last.

My admiration for her grew by the moment. She laughed and quipped mightily as she expertly kicked my ass, and damned if she didn't make me forget all of my reservations about she and I, after a while. I wanted her like I hadn't wanted anything in a very long time. I let myself want her.

But now wasn't the right moment, for that. Rain already had too many burdens to bear, and would have for a while, I was certain. There was now no question that I would be honest with her, and let her judge me for herself, but the only questions that remained were "How?" and "When?". And would my confession include my feelings for her?

The last was a matter that would require far more than one night, to decide.

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