DISCLAIMER: Not mine... don't sue.
TIMELINE: The Same Day (September 2291)
SPOILERS: None
SYNOPSIS: Rain explores her heritage, while Angel prepares for his Destiny.
DISTRIBUTION: You know the drill! If you already have some, it's yours! Otherwise, just ask! :)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: An interesting side note, for those of you who bother to read these: the poem Rain finds in Buffy's things, "The Vampire" by Charles Baudelaire, is the very one that Angel referenced in the adorable Museum scene in "SHE"... remember? "Oh and, ah, Baudelaire was actually a little taller and a lot drunker than he is depicted here." The song Angel is hearing at the end is "Ice Cream" by Sarah McLachlan, from "Fumbling Toward Ecstasy".
FEEDBACK: Only if you don't scream at me... *grin*
RATING: R

Angel:

Roger Lowenthal ordered a cup of tea, "preferably fresh", from the tired and worn old waitress at Christie's All-Night Diner. She gave him a nasty look with her sharp black eyes, and I found myself wondering if she had Gypsy blood.
"We have Tetley," she told him. Her name was Lois, her nametag said -- an old-fashioned diner waitress' name. I doubted it was the one she was given at birth… She probably lived in some fantasy world of an idyllic time centuries ago, when television was black and white, when cars were the size of small houses, and her soulmate sat beside her on the couch and talked about nail polish.

Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that last bit was my stuff.

Roger Lowenthal scowled at old Lois, "Please do put extra milk in then, could you? You do have milk, I assume? The sort that comes from a cow?"

Lois didn't reply, but tore the order slip from the top of her pad, slapped it rudely on the table between us, and waddled angrily away.

The Watcher then turned his eyes to me.

"By your phone call, I can assume that this is a matter of some urgency," he snipped.

Any other night, I would have frowned at him, and desperately wished I hadn't asked him to meet me at all. But this was no ordinary night. This was the night in which my ultimate purpose -- my true Destiny -- was as clear to me as it could ever possibly be, for the first time. The eternal smile that was the core of my quest shone like a beacon in my mind, and I drove toward it with genuine, pure, perfect happiness in my ancient heart.

"Yes. It is," I told him.

He waited. When I added nothing further, he frowned.

"And this dire circumstance would be…"

"Rain," I replied.

His testy frown turned to a look of concern. "What of her? She was fine when I left her earlier this evening…"

I shook my head. "She looks fine. But she's not. She's dying."

Granted, it was melodramatic… perhaps even an exaggeration. But it was also true -- the light in every living creature's eyes dimmed the way hers had lately, just as its life began to fade away.

Roger Lowenthal literally flinched at my words. It was a most inopportune moment for Lois to return with his milky tea, the little tag that boldly proclaimed "Tetley" dangling from the side of the cup.

He glared openly at her. She responded with a nasty smirk, and disappeared once more.

The Watcher leaned forward, practically lying on the table, toward me.

"What did you say?" he hissed.

I pulled the D'Archit out of my pocket. "I have it on good authority that you are wrong about my role in Rain's Destiny."

His beady eyes wend suddenly wide. "I beg your pardon?"

I held his gaze squarely. "I am far more than the Guardian of the Kahtah, Lowenthal. I am her consort -- her second. The Anam Cara is more than a vow of unity and loyalty -- it is a vow of love and honor, as well. The Bo'Ten is far more than simply a soldier's title. I have taken an eternal oath of marriage -- my role is as her lover and husband, as well as her protector."

He stared at me for a very long time in open-mouthed silence.

"What exactly are you saying?" he asked finally.

"I am saying that I love Rain. She loves me. And that is the way it was fated from the beginning. It is that which will ultimately allow the Kahtah to triumph. And I have every intention of making sure that she understands that."

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

Rain:

I can't describe how excited and terrified I was to have those containers in front of me -- an entire life… all that remained of a whole human being, laid out like an exhibit before my eyes.

She was in there. Everything there ever was to know about Buffy Summers was right at my fingertips.

I went through the boxes in order, slowly, carefully. The sheer variety of things in them astounded me -- her clothes, some stuffed animals, journals, favorite books and CD's (a lot of which, I owned…). I hardly knew where to begin.

So… I began with the diaries, natch. They spanned decades… from right before her calling at age 15, until only days before she died, almost one hundred years later.

I spent most of that night reading her thoughts… getting to know what lay deepest inside of her. How she felt about life, about the world she lived in, about her Calling, about Good and Evil, about her friends and family…

And about Angel. He appeared near the beginning of the very first diary, and there was hardly a page after on which his name didn't appear. In fact, I found many days where she wrote nothing on the paper but his name… sometimes in a strong, loopy script, over and over again, and some where it was written only once, in enormous, ornately decorated letters.

Reading 90 years of a woman's life -- especially this woman -- was… God, I can't possibly find a word to describe how it felt. I was so immediately connected to her… I recognized and agreed with almost every opinion she expressed. I understood every emotion she described. Every word, every scene felt familiar, as if I had written it -- lived it -- myself.

~~~~INSERT DRAMATIC PAUSE HERE~~~~

I wasn't going mad. I wasn't living some twisted fantasy existence in my dreams -- I was remembering Buffy's life. The one that she had actually lived. I was dreaming her memories.

But was that more, or less disturbing than the idea that I might be going insane?

By the time I put down that last journal, written in September 2090 -- two hundred years before -- I was in love. In love with her, in love with them, in love with him, like nothing I'd ever experienced before. No wonder Angel was still smitten so many years later. No wonder he was so loyal… so confused… so lost, without her. She was wonderful.

Suddenly, for the first time, I knew. I understood. Deep in my soul -- that part of me I didn't even believe in until a couple of years ago -- I felt sure.

I told you I couldn't express what I felt. It was profound and heartbreaking, and it wasn't long before I collapsed onto the soft pelt of a little stuffed pig from one of the boxes, and wept. I cried for everything wonderful she had been and had… cried for all of its loss. I cried for Angel… for all of his horrible pain and guilt… for all his deeds, both heroic, and not so heroic… for all the many years he spent alone, tortured… I wept for the victims of his demon, and I wept for all of their beloved, long-dead family and friends.

Most of all, I wept for Buffy's dream -- her deepest desire -- for Angel to be human again. She'd never gotten to see it happen, and though she never seemed unhappy in the years they spent together because of it, it still came up, every now and again. As did the mention of the single day he had been human, that they had spent together.

I sobbed until my eyes were nearly swollen shut and my head hurt like I had been beaten with a stick.

What had I found, here? What had falling in love with Angel unleashed inside of me? And why me, at all? Why was she so much a part of me? Why was he? Why did I know Buffy… and Angel… and all that I had just read, so intimately?

I tried to catch my breath, clutching the stuffed pig to my chest. I picked up a single piece of parchment paper, covered with fine, masculine, old-fashioned script... words and letters written with passion, and tears.

The Vampire - Charles Baudelaire

Thou who abruptly as a knife
Didst come into my heart; thou who,
A demon hoarde into my life,
Didst enter, wildly dancing through

The doorways of my sense unlatched
To make my spirit thy domain --
Harlot to whom I am attached
As convicts to the ball and chain,

As gamblers to wheel's bright spell,
As drunkards to their raging thirst,
As corpses to their worms -- accurst
Be thou! Oh, be thou damned to hell!

I have entreated the swift sword
To strike, that I at once be freed;
The poisoned phial I have implored
To plot with me a ruthless deed.

Alas! The phial and the blade
Do cry aloud and laugh at me:
"Thou are not worthy of our aid;
Thou are not worthy to be free.

Though one of us should be the tool
To save thee from thy wretched fate,
Thy kisses would resuscitate
The body of thy vampire, fool!"

I blinked at the scrawling "A" on the bottom of the page.

Angel…

Suddenly, I found it almost impossible to breathe. I didn't know what it was that suddenly started eating at me, yet, but there was something in me that felt like it was expanding… growing. All of this new knowledge was filling me like a dry sponge, to the point that I was choking on it, overflowing. I felt a sudden wave of dread, and I found my eyes drawn to a box marked "Photographs". I reached a trembling hand out to open the container… I tore off the lid with a single jerk, and plunged my hand inside, withdrawing it again, full of shiny color pictures.

The first one was a wedding photograph. I stared at it, and my heart stopped.

There was Angel, resplendent in a black morning suit and bow tie, a single sterling rose pinned to the lapel. His face was graced with a smile of utter peace and joy… of unimaginable love and contentment. His brown eyes shown as he gazed adoringly down at his bride, holding her fine hands in his own like he never wanted to let them go.

The woman he was looking at… beautiful Buffy, who inspired such devotion and loyalty in all who knew her… who Angel looked upon like he was looking at the most precious gift from heaven… who smiled up at him like that was the happiest moment of her life…

Was me.

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

Angel:

I sent Roger Lowenthal home that night with a great deal of food for thought. After my initial announcement, which, I admit, was more childish than I'd intended, I had explained myself, my feelings, my concerns, and what I had found to him with perfect diplomatic candor. I told him my beliefs and my intentions. I told him about Buffy and about Rain. I was open and honest about precisely what I expected to happen next.

In the broadest terms, I told the Watcher that I would stand by my oath. I would fulfill my Destiny. I would stand by his Slayer's side as I had her ancestor before her, and I would guard her with my life, until her work on earth was done.

In more immediate terms, I explained to him as I paid for our drinks and rose to leave, I would go home and call Rain and ask her to come to my home for the first time. I would tell her everything I had never told her, and hope that she would understand. And then I was going to ask her to stay. Forever.

It was a pretty sweeping, romantic speech. And I think Roger Lowenthal was actually impressed. He looked at me with what I suppose passed for respect, on him, and said:

"I imagine that would be wise, under the circumstances."

I liked a man who could gracefully, if not explicitly, admit when he was wrong.

So I went home. I had never had a single living human being in my house, and I don't think I'd ever given much thought to how it might appear to one. Especially a woman. Especially a woman like Rain.

I can't tell you why I'd never had Rain to my home. Maybe because it was my only refuge; my place; the hole where I had hidden from the world, with my ghosts and my demons, for two hundred years. Maybe I didn't want her to see the way I lived… or didn't live.

I stopped and bought fresh flowers from a Moonie on State Street. I bought boxes of candles from a Witch supply store I knew that catered to those who walked the night -- either by preference or by nature. I wondered whether my sheets were clean, and if I still owned a bottle opener for the wine I purchased.

I was getting way ahead of myself, I know. But right then, it felt so right… I felt light, free, and I didn't care. I remembered Buffy's words to me about chances and wasted time. I had wasted enough. And it was long past time for me to start taking chances.

I whistled as I walked toward my future.

Archivist's Note: The series splits here, so here are the options. Follow this link to go to the happy ending of this story. The series ends with the happy ending. The rest of this story is angsty, but the series continues, and don't forget, Ducks is the Anti Joss.

Rain:

I couldn't think, but boy, could I feel. As I looked slowly through hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of myface, my expressions, my body, my smile, everything began to come perfectly clear -- knowledge washed over me like a ragged shard of glass that tore me open from the inside.

Buffy Summers was me. I was her. I didn't need to read anybody's theories or prophecies or explanations about reincarnation to fully understand. I just knew.

My entire existence made perfect, horrible sense, in that moment. And everything I now knew made everything I'd ever known before completely obsolete. Nothing about my life -- this life -- was even remotely related to what I thought was the truth.

I was someone else, entirely.

That thought settled on my brain… settled right in like the final piece missing from a jigsaw puzzle.

And I felt rage course through me. I felt betrayed. I felt hatred and resentment explode forth from the now-desolving me I had always thought I'd been.

I jumped from my seat and began throwing items from Buffy's collection into my canvas tote bag. I grabbed sketchpads that Angel had filled with only pictures of Buffy. I grabbed a book of poetry he'd given her. I grabbed reams of pictures and stacks of letters and piles of her diaries, and threw them all in the bag.

And as I crashed out of the archive room, I grabbed the ornate broadsword from the cabinet by the door… the one I knew that Angel owned the exact twin of, because I had bought it for him in Ireland for our 20th wedding anniversary.

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

Angel:

She didn't knock. In fact, Rain kicked in my front door and stood, seething, glaring at me with a giant bag in one hand, and a sword in the other. For a moment, I wasn't certain whether I should offer to help, or run.

I jumped up off the couch, completely startled by her entrance. Her face was a red mask of rage, and I quickly felt dread clench my gut as her anger washed through the room like a searing fog.

She was panting, her eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying, and she held the sword across her chest like a warrior Goddess straight out of Celtic myth.

I saw the inscription on the sword, "By Blood, Heart and Soul Are We Bound", and I knew. I looked into her eyes.

"Rain…"

"Sit down," she hissed.

I obeyed. Rain stood, shaking with fury, seemingly unwilling to come any further through the door. I was frozen in my seat, unable to speak, unable to move. Soft blues floated in the background… the room was dimly lit by the hundreds of candles I had purchased.

The ambiance now seemed painfully ironic.

"You son of a bitch," Rain snarled, and finally took a single step into the room, "You lousy, no good, lying BASTARD!" Each word spat forth from her perfect mouth and struck me like a blow, "How could you DO this to me?"

The words didn't hurt as much as her tone. Far more than a woman scorned, she was a woman possessed utterly by a feeling of betrayal. Somehow, she had found out. Everything that I had hidden from her was now in her possession... the evidence stuffed furiously into her bag.

"I can explain…" I offered.

Rain dropped the bag to the floor with a thump. Still clutching the sword, she reached in with her free hand and pulled out a handful of photographs. A frigid, cruel smile played across her lips.

"You can explain," she echoed, her tone mocking my words, "You can EXPLAIN??? YOU HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR WHY THE FUCK YOU DIDN'T SEE FIT TO TELL ME ABOUT ANY OF THIS???"

My ears rang with the sound of her screeching as she gestured at me with the pictures. I didn't need to look any closer at them to know what they were of.

"Yes, I can," I said, trying to stay calm.

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she flung the pile of pictures at me. They fluttered through the air like a colorful snow, coming to rest in disordered piles on the floor. She took another step forward, dragging the bag with her. I wondered what else was inside. She reached in once more and pulled out something large and heavy. She brandished the enormous book at me like a weapon. It was a beast of a book, old and cracked with a leather cover. Six inches thick, and ten pounds if it was an ounce. A Watchers' Diary. Probably one of Rupert's.

She threw that at me, also. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS SAYS!!!?" she screamed over the book thumping to the floor. She snorted bitterly, "What am I saying, OF COURSE YOU DO!!! YOU KNEW ALL OF THIS!!!" Rain threw another pile of pictures, "AND THIS!" she launched a bundle of letters, "AND ALL OF THESE, AS WELL! YOU ROTTEN, FILTHY STINKING LIAR!!!" Like a rain of fury, she pulled items from the bag and threw them across the room at me. Some of them struck me… others just fluttered or thumped to the floor until it looked like a cyclone had hit my home.

When the bag was empty, and I was surrounded by memories of my life with Buffy, Rain was suddenly calm again. But she never once put down the sword.

"I thought you cared about me," she said, her voice flat.

I rose from my seat once more, determined to do something to reassure her… to stop what she must be thinking. "Rain, I do. I love you. With all of my heart."

Her eyes locked on me, and I shivered. I've been to Hell. I have looked into the eyes of pure, unadulterated evil and hatred. But nothing I'd ever seen before that moment inspired the kind of shuddering dread in me that her expression did. I almost expected her to take my head clean off my shoulders with the broadsword. And right then, I almost wanted her to.

"Don't you FUCKING come near me!" she barked, "If you TOUCH ME, I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL KILL YOU!"

I stopped and stood, staring at her from several feet, and a million miles, away.

"I believed you. I believed every word you ever said to me. Every time you LIED TO MY FACE, I BELIEVED YOU!" She took another step toward me… a menacing step, and I had to fight the sudden urge to flee. A natural response of a vampire to an enraged Slayer, I suppose. I could feel my heart shattering in my chest. "YOU DON'T LOVE *ME*!!! DON'T YOU DARE SAY YOU LOVE ME! YOU LOVE SOMEONE WHO DIED TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!!! YOU DON'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW WHO I AM!!!!"

Silence fell like a pile of stones on the room. Each painful echo of her heartbeat cut me like a knife.

"That's not true. I do know who you are," I said softly, "I know you better than I know myself. And you know me better than you know yourself. That's the way it's always been."

Her furious scowl was pure Buffy.

"SHUT UP! Don't you fucking EVER say that! You don't even SEE me, Angel! Every time you look at me, you only see HER! You call yourself my friend? You're not my friend!!! You don't give two SHITS about me! All you care about is that I wear your precious BUFFY'S FACE! GOD DAMN YOU! I TRUSTED YOU! I LOVED YOU!"

She was shaking harder, now… tears had begun to pour down her cheeks. I took a sharp breath, and another tentative step toward her. I had to stop this. I had to make her understand.

"Rain, listen, please…"

Rain took the rest of the distance between us in a single stride, and swung the sword point straight up between us until I could feel its point prick my chin. I pulled my head back involuntarily.

"No. You listen, vampire. Don't ever come near me again. Don't FOLLOW me, don't CALL me, don't lurk in the SHADOWS. You can't hide from me, and if you try, I will KNOW you are there. If I catch you, you are DUST. Do you understand me? Am I making myself clear?"

I didn't move. I didn't say anything. I just stood there, the scent of my blood running down my neck mixing with the tang of her rage and the sweet smell of vanilla from her hair.

"I'm sorry, Rain. It may not mean much now, but I give you my word, I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to tell you all of this. And I do love you, just as much, if not more, for who you are now, as for who you once were. I swear on my soul that is the truth."

She literally snarled. "The truth? FUCK YOU, ANGEL! YOU DON'T KNOW A FUCKING THING ABOUT THE TRUTH!" she screeched, then turned on her heel and stomped out of my house.

Sarah McLachlan sang "It's a long way down to the place where we started from", as Rain disappeared back into the night with hatred in her heart, and Buffy's broadsword in her hand.

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