Chapter Seven- A Prelude to a Kick

"They sicken of the calm, who know the storm..." -Dorothy Parker

Angel ended up lingering for months at Dana's home, spending hours in her library pouring over ancient volumes, walking in her garden, admiring her priceless collection of art. But more than anything, he enjoyed the company of other people... vampires, rather...beings like him who didn't want to kill him and didn't seem to expect him to lead them to some shining new world of peace.

He played chess with the houseman, rode horseback with the stablehands. He discussed politics with Council members, philosophy, psychology, history and quantum theory with professors. He poured over volumes of vampire lore with the Librarian (but not the Be'lheran prophecies, only Dana seemed to have access to those...), and even took the time to see a therapist Dana recommended.

There were almost moments when he had himself convinced that he was a normal person, living a mundane life.

Those moments usually lasted only until he had to retreat to his rooms at dawn, and was left alone with his pain. He knew that by staying here, he was, in effect, hiding... hiding from the life he'd left behind, hiding from the future he would inevitably have to live. He was not normally one to shirk his duty -- especially one which might prove as earth-moving as his. But he felt so weary, in it's heavy wake... so tired and old. Suddenly, he felt he had some inkling of the way Buffy must feel, having the fate of her entire race fall on her tiny shoulders. To be dragged by destiny out of the sweet bliss of ignorance into the glaring light of truth... To want nothing more than mundane normalcy, but being utterly unable to even pretend that it was possible.

Angel didn't begin to understand his role in the Prophecies... he didn't have anything so obvious as demons and monsters to take up a sword and battle against. He had a nation of creatures looking to him to make changes to their reality that none of them could even define, or comprehend...least of all himself. He had no Council, no Watcher on his side to light his way. He had only thousands of frightened vampires, an ancient Witch, and a few hundred volumes of vague scripture on which to rely. Scripture he wasn't even allowed to examine...

After a time, all that Angel could do was obsess himself in circles, always leading back to the same series of unanswerable questions. He felt constantly tense and frustrated, as if he were going nowhere quickly. No new answers presented themselves, whatever viewpoint he tried to take.

He decided to go back to Los Angeles. He had work to do, there. Work that he understood and could deal with. The straight line between good and evil was clear in demon-slaying, and clarity was exactly what he longed for. He wanted to fight something... anything. If it couldn't be this accursed destiny of his, then maybe he could find a nest of nasties to destroy, instead.

Dana took his decision with as much grace as she could muster. She wasn't surprised in the least that Angel had decided to leave -- in fact, she was surprised he'd chosen to stay as long as he had. She knew he was confused and overwhelmed with all that he had experienced in the past few months. She was, as well. She had had a special affinity for the Angelus of Prophecy for centuries -- the depth of his pain, the beauty of his precious soul... his devotion to the Slayer and her world. All of these things had made her love him -- as one often falls in love with a particularly sympathetic character in a beloved story... but now?

Now Angelus was more than a knight from her favorite fairy tale. Now he was a living, walking, talking being. Now all of the things that made her love his story were standing before her each day, in three very vivid, very real dimensions.

Dana didn't think she was handling things well, at all. Perhaps Angel leaving for the time being was the best course of action for all concerned. She needed time and space to think, to recompose herself -- to reclaim her personal distance from this living manifestation of her life's work. To fall in love with a legend was one thing, but developing deep feelings for an irresistibly charming young man was something entirely different. Especially when that young man was that legend

Her other duties needed attending to, as well. The Council had been demanding a gathering for weeks, now. No doubt news of Angel's continued presence had spread throughout the realm, by this time. They would soon be calling her to task for her actions. She realized that her family needed her, as well. Maella had taken to spending all of her time alone, avoiding Dana and especially Angel, taking her meals in her rooms, not answering Dana's pleas to speak with her. As far as Dana knew, Maella had not yet taken her concerns to the Council, nor revealed the secret of the Incantations Dana possessed. But, sadly, she had no faith that the angry girl would keep those secrets to herself forever. Dana needed to smooth things over with her sister before they got out of hand...

More out of hand than they already were, that is. Events were coming to pass exactly as Be'lheran had predicted, to the letter.

******

It didn't take long for Angel's desired action to find him. Cordelia had left a dozen messages on his answering machine -- two asking him politely to return her rather urgent call, and ten more of her screaming incoherently about a whistling demon, a double dipper and a broken china set.

After several moments blinking in confusion, unable to translate the verbal chaos for himself, Angel dialed Cordy's number.

"OH, THANK GOD," she cried, "ThankgodpleaseAngelyouneedtocomeoverhererightaway thisscummy littledemonkeepspawingmeandtheendoftheworldiscomingandtheywanttokillyouand buffyandOH GOD!"

"Cordelia, calm down," he said, trying to make sense of the girls blubbering.

"CALM DOWN?" She screeched at him. Her tirade continued, but faded, as someone took the phone away from her.

"Hey, Angel. Long time no see."

"Whistler."

"Yup, it's me. Hey, I think I broke your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he didn't know why he felt it so important to clarify that, "What's going on?"

Whistler chuckled knowingly. "Big Bad," he laughed, "I'll be right over. Hey, girly! Stop screaming. I need a ride..."

Angel hung up, not sure if he was more glad that his wish for a fight had come true, or more concerned and annoyed at Whistler's involvement. To say his feelings for the chaotic neutral demon were contradictory was an epic understatement. Whenever the tacky little demon showed up, his overdone Brooklyn drawl was certain to be framing news of some great import. What Angel wanted was simple righteous violence -- not more momentous, earth-shattering happenings. Mountain-moving, he had enough of...

******

Whistler was grinning at him when he opened the door a little while later. The demon was dressed in his usual -- an awful grey sharkskin and felt fedora -- and he gripped the thin arm of an uncharacteristically unkempt and distraught Cordelia. She was weeping softly.

He moved out of the way to let Whistler drag her inside. Cordelia immediately plopped down on the couch, and sniffled forlornly.

Angel approached her slowly, "Hey, Cordelia, are you okay?" He offered her a tissue, which she accepted and promptly honked into.

"NO!" She barked, in the shaky voice of someone who'd just spent a few hours in Hell, "I am SO not okay! I wish you would DO something about your DEMON friends just dropping by whenever they feel like it! Unannounced and WITHOUT KNOCKING! I dropped my box of china and ALL OF IT is broken and I still don't understand what he's talking about... and he keeps calling me Twinkie...I HATE Twinkies..."

Angel looked to Whistler, who shrugged innocently. "What can I say? There's trouble brewing, Angel. Bit T trouble. The Double Damned are in town, gearing up for something BIG. Very bad news, man. Badder news than the Three, the Order of Taraka, and all the other assassins you can name, rolled into one. And word has it, they'll be coming after you... then, the Slayer..."

"Buffy..."

"Yup, you know it. She's prime grade A target number one, for these guys. See, this little gang specializes in demon-hunter-hunting. Slayers are their favorites. They got ugly magick, Angel -- magick that would turn our pretty Slayer and her friends to do-gooder soup. There's only one thing that works against their magick -- more magick... especially of the undead sort. They're vampires, but not in the classic sense -- not in the you and your buddies sense. They were nasty demons *first*, then they got turned to vampire-type demons by some whacked sorcerers into high kink...hence, the name Double-Damned."

'Ah, the double-dip,' Angel thought to himself. Apparently, Cordelia could make a sad kind of sense when she wanted to...

"Why are they after me?" he asked, rising to get the still sniveling brunette a glass of water.

"My boy -- you sure haven't gotten any brighter over the years, have you?" Whistler zinged.

Angel handed Cordelia the glass, and took a seat beside her. He glared at The Whistler, unamused.

"Just answer the question," he snarled.

"Well, since I know you've been spending some time at Dannan's little spa of delights..."

Angel tensed.

"Who's Dannon?" Cordelia asked, pronouncing it like the yogurt, and was promptly and completely ignored.

"I'm going to have to assume you know a little bit more about your reputed Destiny..." Whistler continued.

Angel bristled... Destiny again.

Whistler still wasn't through, "So you know there are a lot of guys out there that aren't too keen that you're walking around, now that things are going down... and then there's the Slayer factor, of course..."

"What about her?" Angel asked.

"Well, genius, if they can get you, they figure they'll be killing three bats with one stone: 1.) The Angelus of the stupid legend everyone's talking about... you know, the one that will bring the extinction of vampires..."

Cordelia gasped audibly. "Really?" She asked, gaping at Angel in wonder, "Huh. That'd be cool..."

"2.) The Phenomenal demon-hunter, and 3.) The Slayer's last, best hope for peace... her last line of defense. Voila -- bad guy heaven!"

"Which would be Hell." Cordelia suggested helpfully.

Whistler shot her a 'give-the-moron-an-award-for-stating-the-obvious' look. "Precisely." He turned back to Angel, "Slayers don't have the best of luck with these characters. Of course, neither do your garden-variety vampire..."

"I'm not exactly garden-variety, and neither is Buffy," Angel said.

Whistler chuckled. "True, my boy... very true."

******

Angel left for Sunnydale at sunset the next day. He set the cruise control on the rental car and sailed down the highway...

His first task was to visit Giles -- find out what he thought about all this -- what his research could uncover about Be'lheran and Dana. He had called the librarian earlier in the day, giving him the Reader's Digest version of events and suggested some key words that might help Giles' search.

Giles didn't seem the least bit surprised by Angel's call after so many months -- he was already aware that important events were in motion, and had automatically, and rightly, assumed that Angel would be a part of it. However uncomfortable the idea still made the Watcher, Angel was one of Buffy's greatest allies. If the prophecies were even close to accurate, he would play a role in her life until the day she died. (Giles always added a little prayer at the end of any thought about her death that it would be in a hundred years, or so...) He promised the vampire he would enlist Willow's technological assistance, agreed not to tell Buffy any of what was happening for the time being, and would hit the books himself to see what he could find.

"Are you certain -- Double Damned?" Giles snorted at the silly name, which actually beat the 'Infernal Double Damned Demon Hunter-Hunters', which was what kept passing through Angel's thoughts...

Angel spent the rest of the day underground, hitting the Los Angeles vampire grapevine, gleaning what little he could from the rumors and innuendo that were flying around. Not a little of it was about him... people were talking about legends and myths -- stories of the Damned, of the Greatest of Vampires to ever live destroying the world... about 'Bloodless Ones' and 'The Bloody Sun'...

Nothing useful, in other words. Mostly nonsense. No matter how handy it might be sometimes, Angel always hated the rumour mill.

Now that he was barreling down the highway, back to the only home he'd ever really known, full of the best and most painful memories of his long life, Angel found his thoughts turning to Buffy once again.

He didn't want to involve her in anything that was going on -- he never did. But her duty was to fight the forces of darkness -- and a war between vampire clans and a pack of hero-hunters coming after them definitely qualified as dark. She had a right to defend herself, despite his need to defend *her*. He couldn't let his romantic machismo get in the way of good judgment and duty. Unless, of course, Giles could help him find some way of taking care of this himself...

But whatever his reservations, the truth was, he missed her, and felt desperate to bring all that he had learned to her -- his only true friend. Buffy would be able to provide him with the perspective he so desperately needed. He knew he could trust her to give her honest, objective opinion, whatever her personal feelings might be. Of course, there was no doubt she would share those with him, too.

Plus, he wanted to see if she was okay, if more was happening in her life than what she shared in her letters. He needed to watch her eyes... hear her voice.. smell her skin...

He needed to see if she still loved him.

He immediately shook that selfish thought from his head. Buffy had a right to be happy, on her own -- that was what his leaving had been about to begin with. She would never be free of him if he kept laying his heavy burden on her shoulders. It was up to him to say no, because he knew deep in his heart that she would never turn him away if he needed her.

She had proved that decisively more times than he cared to remember.

He had to keep his mind on the business at hand. Whatever else he might gain from it would have to be a happy side effect...

Chapter Eight-Welcome Back to the Hellmouth

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." - Robert Frost

Angel approached the school with trepidation. The sign over the door read, "Formatia trans sicere educatorum": "Enter All Ye Who Seek Knowledge". He remembered clearly the first time he'd read it...

...and the time he'd quoted it to Jenny Calendar.

He sighed. So much of his past was bound up in this building... the saddest and finest days of his life had revolved around its daily business -- being both the home of the Slayer's Troupe, and the cap of the Hellmouth.

He set his jaw, firmed his resolve, and went inside. He could hear the ghosts everywhere, whispering to him, replaying scenes that had happened in these halls... chasing Jenny... attacking Willow... laughing with Buffy... conferring with Giles...

He sharpened his focus and tuned out the visions, barreling through to the library. Tonight he truly sought knowledge, and he could not allow himself to be distracted by reminiscing. He was not here to battle the demons that plagued him personally, but only those that threatened the world.

Giles was alone when Angel arrived. He found it felt good to see the Watcher again, despite the still-present irrational fear and anger in the man's eyes. Angel had taken more from Giles than almost anyone, and each time the man had helped him since then -- hell, each time he just *talked* to him with civility -- Angel felt as though it were a grand gesture on Giles' part. A true testament to the man's character.

They sat down to tea, and Angel shared the pertinent details of what he had learned in the last two months. He told Giles about Dannan and her Society, the Council, the Prophecies -- and his bizarre place in them, as well as the Coming of the so called Double Damned.

Giles listened with fascination. He had never, in all of his rather knowledgeable years as Watcher, had any inkling that such a thing as an organized, clandestine nation of vampires could possibly exist. He had once heard a funny metaphor about organizing some groups of people being like herding cats. He could think of no better example than a "vampire society" -- and a seemingly democratic one, at that. Vampires tended to be walking chaos -- organizing and providing a democratic vote for each individual seemed more than oxymoronic, to Giles. Although, he supposed having a soul provided an exception to every vampire certainty, much as it was with Angel.

"It's quite akin to something out of a paperback novel..." he gave Angel a pointed look, "Ad libitum... someone's fondest wish..."

Angel nodded. "I thought so, too. But I've seen it -- well, some of it. I've spent time with these people..."

"Vampires..." Giles reminded him.

"Yes," Angel chose to ignore the blatant jib, "But there they are, living in a nightwalker version of human culture. And Dana, the Witch, leads the Council, under the guidance of the Books of Be'lheran. She believes the Souled to be on the edge of a great evolution, and that Buffy and I will play a central part in what will happen. I need to understand what's going on. Do the Watchers have anything to say about this?"

Giles nodded, pulling out a stack of notebook paper covered with his scrawled notes, as well as a pile of computer printouts Willow had generated.

"Remnile, a very early Watcher, makes note of Albianat and his Witch, who I assume is this Dana. They blazed a trail of bloody terror around the world -- Old and New -- but they disappear from history around the turn of the first millennium. What is on record are mostly horror stories of brutal mass murder, including the death of at least one Slayer.

The Damned -- the hunters you mentioned -- have been known by many names in many different times and places. In modern times they call themselves the Double Damned, and with good reason. They are a fearful pack of assassins, programmed to rid the world of the forces of good, and pave the way for evil to dominate. It seems their primary targets -- their specialty, if you will -- are demon hunters and Slayers. The Codex tells a great deal about the Last Days, and the Damned are said to play an important role. What that role is is rather confusing, actually, for the term seems to apply both to this group of fearless assassins, and also to an individual, mentioned time and again as central to the `Change of Man' which is said to be coming. What is known is pretty vague and not terribly helpful for your needs, I'm afraid."

"No, this is good," Angel assured him, " At least I know at least some of what Dana has been telling me is true, and we have some further idea of what the Damned are about. What else does the Codex have to say about the Slayer and the End Days? Anything about Be'lheran's Prophecies?"

"Yes, um..." Giles put his glasses back on and leafed further through the notes, "Oh, yes, here it is. The Be'lheran prophecies are mentioned in the Codex, briefly throughout the years, but as you say, the references grow more numerous through the End Days. It appears that no one has ever actually *seen* the volumes, but legends based on them abound in vampire lore. The Codex speaks of the `Change of Races' or the `Change of Man' that I mentioned earlier. There is mention of `the Slayer Who is Not a Slayer' defeating the Greatest of Vampires... if I'm translating correctly, `with a look', or perhaps a 'glance'. There will be a great war between vampire clans... which I assume means both within the society of the Souled and between the Souled and the demons. The Damned we are now speaking of are prophesied to be only the first wave -- sent to try to prevent the coming of the `King', who is central to these changes. Again, just who this King is and what his role will be is unclear. It goes on further to say that the ' Slayer Who is Not a Slayer' will join with the massing armies of good and turn the tide of the battle, the Damned at her side, which makes no sense...However, it is not her actions in the context of the war that will be of the greatest importance, but the `product of her union with the Damned' -- the `Bloody Sun' or `The Sun that Bleeds'. It is difficult to translate. All of this is rather vague, I'm afraid. And much of it is contradictory."

"Dana seems to think that I'm this King -- she insists that I am the central player in what's about to happen."

"Well, I don't know about that, but I doubt that you are the King prophesied here. The legends say that the King is mortal -- an extraordinary mortal, some vampire-human hybrid, but a living man, nonetheless. So unless you have managed to discover some miraculous magick that has eluded sorcerers, shamans and Witches since the beginning of time, I have some doubt that it is you."

Angel felt a profound sense of relief. A foot soldier, he could handle being. No messiah, he... He sighed. "I really wish I could understand what's going on here. I'm not any clearer on the things Dana's been telling me. It seems the more information I get, the less sense any of it makes. So this King must be someone else -- another player..."

"The legends seem to agree. The King will herald a new day... one that sees vampires and humans come to a truce..."

Angel was aghast, "A truce?" Upon further thought, he imagined it made sense -- Dana had spoken to him about the human touch he would bring to the Council.

Maybe it was this King's job to bring that -- maybe the war would not be on his head, but that of this other.

Maybe the past months had all been Dana's idea of a sick joke.

"It sounds highly dubious to me, as well," Giles went on, "But that is what the books are rumoured to say. And the Codex states that it will be the Slayer Who is Not a Slayer who will bring him to the throne, after the victory of the Dark War."

Angel nodded, "But what we really need to focus on is the more immediate problem... the Damned. What needs to be done about them?"

Giles rose to grab a dusty volume off the table behind them.

"The Damned have a singular purpose -- to hunt and kill their assigned quarry. Due to their doubly magickal nature, they are doubly dangerous, especially to...eh... mortals..."

"Buffy."

"Well, Buffy is no mere mortal, but yes, I'm afraid involving her at this juncture would prove very hazardous, indeed."

"What if I can pick them off before they leave L.A.?"

"Well, I suspect you will have little choice in the matter. Chances are, they will be looking for you. Once you are out of the way, *then* they will come after the Slayer."

******

Angel left the school more depressed and confused than ever. He'd come to Giles looking for answers, and instead had left with only more -- and more complicated -- questions. He was clearly not the King of Dana's prophecies -- no one was further from mortal than he. Then why had she been so certain he was? Why was everyone in the Souled Society so interested in him, if he was just another demon with a soul? He had to focus on the matter at hand -- the Damned. But he had trouble concentrating on simple demons when so much else seemed to be at stake.

He found himself on Buffy's street before he'd noticed he was going that way. Of course, he had needed Giles' assistance -- another set of answers he trusted more than the ones he already possessed, and to be sure, he'd wanted an excuse not to get Buffy involved in the upcoming battle. Giles had provided both.

But this was why he had really returned to Sunnydale. He looked up at the stucco apartment building, to the patio outside what he knew from endless lurking to be the window to her new bedroom. He climbed the tree outside easily, and it led to the perfect perch outside the window. The familiar routine brought back memories, good and bad, of a hundred clandestine visits to Buffy's window in the house on Rubelo Drive over the years. He remembered her face framed by the light behind her as he'd walked hesitantly away... she used to blow him kisses...

Suddenly her face was before him -- her beautiful face, bare of makeup for bedtime, her golden hair jammed casually on top of her head in a clip, her tiny frame clad in baggy sweats and a tank top. She smelled like lavender...

"Giles told me you might be coming," she told him.

The sound of her voice ripped through him... he was so glad to see her, it was all he could do not to grab her and steal her away... away form all this death, all this danger... away from their damned Destinies.

"Hi." was all he could muster.

******

They sat and talked on her bed through the rest of the night. Angel told her all that he had learned (with the exception of the Damned) and seen, about the Society, the Council, The Prophecies... about Dana.

Buffy listened as she always did, with loving patience -- gasping at surprises, laughing at funny scenes, worrying about all the intrigue that surrounded him... he watched her face cloud over as he talked about the time he spent with Dana... about the Ball and their talks... but he felt she had a right to know.

"Wow," Buffy said when he was through, "That's a lot to have to deal with."

He nodded. "It's hard to believe I have any destiny besides killing your average everyday monsters..."

"A whole society? I mean, *millions* of vampires like you?"

He nodded again.

"Wow," She repeated.

"And Dana insists on helping me at every turn. She's been studying my life since before even my ancestors were born. It's all pretty profound... confusing..."

Buffy took his hand. A shock passed through him as if she had struck him, rather than made such a loving gesture. He'd almost forgotten how warm her skin really was... how tiny her hands, which belied their strength...

"You really care about her..." Buffy said, jealousy and sadness clear in her voice.

He met his love's eyes. "She really cares about me, apparently," he said, "I honestly don't know how I feel about her."

Buffy said nothing. Of course she was jealous -- hearing Angel talk about someone else with such affection crushed her heart. But she knew she and Angel were doomed to always be kept apart... by their past, by their differences... and he had a right to be as happy as he could be, in his own way. No matter how much she longed for it to be *her* that made him happy, no matter how much she loved him, and as of this moment she couldn't imagine how it could be more, she knew that this was probably the last time they would be together, like this.

"My heart will always belong to you," he added, "Always. I hope you know that."

She knew. But she also hoped he could find some happiness somewhere -- that someone better suited to him could show him all the love he needed and deserved. She gently touched his face -- the face that smiled at her in her dreams...the lips that kissed every inch of her... the eyes that always regarded her with the deepest love.

"I know that you will be okay," she promised him, "You will be doing what you've always needed to do -- helping make the world a better place. With people like you... people you can share your life with..."

`I wish it could be with you,' he thought, and saw the same mirrored in her eyes.

"I will always be there to help you, if you need me, Buffy. Whatever it is in my power to contribute, I will give you without hesitation. The Prophecies say we will fight side by side again, so this isn't goodbye..." It came out like a vow.

"But it is, in a way. We never said goodbye, before..." she reminded him, and he watched a single quicksilver tear run down her smooth cheek. Pain washed over him, as he remembered the days and nights before his departure. How could he walk away from her again? She was the only thing that ever made sense to him, and now that he was hurtling headlong into chaos, how could he not bring his very foundation with him?

Angel looked deeply into her soft green eyes, took her face between his hands and studied it for a long moment, memorizing every detail. Then he softly, briefly, kissed her.

"Be happy," she called after him as he climbed out the window.

He didn't see how he would ever be happy again.

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