Spoilers: Tonight's episodes! *sob*
Disclaimer: Not mine. The character belong to the big meanie known as Joss.
Feedback: Pretty please?
Author's Notes: Personally, I think the ending's weak, but I haven't had time to beta this because I was so compelled to get this out. So... there.

I heard it. Her voice. Pleading, begging. accusing. She was accusing me of bringing this new pain on her, not because she thought I was the one to blame but because she needed me to be the scapegoat. Life had just hit her, hit her hard, forcing a spoonful of reality down her throat till it seared and burned her insides and she could no longer feel anything but hopelessness. I wasn't dumb; I wasn't deaf. Although I'd like to say I was both. Because if I was deaf, then I wouldn't have ever heard the pain in her voice, and if I was dumb, I wouldn't have been able to comprehend what the pain was leading her to.

The dead end.

It was all in her voice, all in her tears and pleas. I heard it ringing through the machine clear as day - suicide. I didn't know what path to her death she had chosen, or how far down the path she had dared to venture, but I was almost sure that the heaviness and slurring of her words meant alcohol. And what ways could she. with alcohol.? It didn't take me more than five seconds to figure out what she had done.

And it didn't take more than five seconds for my mind to be invaded by other thoughts. More promising thoughts. More pleasing thoughts. Temptation filled the room - heavy and thick in the moment, despite what was going on just across town. And in a split second I had to decide - Kate. or Darla? Let a friend make the worst, most permanent mistake of her life or. give into temptation? My soul was strong, strong enough to hold onto the idea of saving Kate for just a few more seconds as the lust took over the rest of me. See, it wasn't the monster inside that gave in too easily; it was the man. The man - so weak he couldn't even save a friend in the eye of seduction. How had I stooped to such feebleness?

I want to say it was the pressure. The frustration. The hopelessness that was beginning to reveal its ugly face from behind all of the good I had supposedly done in the world. See, it was on that very night that I had learned everything I thought. everything I knew. was wrong. It didn't matter how hard I tried, because what I was trying to do was win. I was trying to win in a match against good and evil with salvation as my prize. Only, as I had learned, winning wasn't the way to do. No matter how much good I instilled in people, the evil would never vanish. It had always been there, since Eve had first taken the apple. We were born with it deep inside; darkness had become a part of us.

And in all of my desperation, I had failed to see the true lesson behind what I had learned. I was too focused on the big picture; too overwhelmed with settling the score forever. The Powers had never asked me to take on something that I couldn't. They were constantly testing me, constantly pushing me towards the limit, but they never asked for too much. They were too careful and too foreseeing for that. Surely they had known that I couldn't take on the whole world. No matter how strong the Champion. But that didn't mean they weren't asking me to try. Each soul I rescued from total despair was one step closer to the light. I couldn't paint the picture of white and black, but at least I could smudge some of the white into the black, make some of my own gray smudges on the world. And as dismal as it sounded, it was the lesson I should have learned.

And the lesson I was too far gone to learn.

Evil. in everyone. in everything. We couldn't run from it, couldn't hide from it. It was a part of us.

So when Darla made the invitation that the man inside couldn't refuse, the rest of me simply cracked. I couldn't hold out any longer. It was like a dam, finally broken loose to unleash all of its rapid fury on whatever lay in its path. Once Darla had released me from what chains still barely bound me, I couldn't stop. Nature had taken its true course and led evil straight into the arms of evil. But God, was evil pure bliss! Nothing had ever felt so in-the-moment as that had felt. As she had felt.

But in the back of my mind, as the passion dwindled down into the silence of rhythmic non-breathing, I wondered what would happen. Fear struck me hard. The soul in me was not yet dead, but would it be in a matter of minutes? I had just made love with Darla. Only. was it love? Was sex enough to banish the soul from my body? Or did their have to be the connection behind it? Like the connection I had had with Buffy? The connection that made me feel totally human despite my unbeating heart and hollow breath. Darla didn't make me feel that way; she only made me feel animal - vicious and primitive. And completely empty inside.

Then surely I couldn't lose my soul, could I? Didn't it take human happiness? I trembled inside my skin, feeling trapped. almost like prey. I felt as though I were waiting for the complete corruption to invade my body and extract my soul in its fearsome jaws. And till then, all I could do was lie there and wonder. Wonder if I would ever regain my soul. Wonder what damage Angelus would do this time. Wonder why it took my losing my soul to make me want it back. I needed a soul, I realized.

And still a tiny voice inside me asked, Why?

What good had a soul been to me lately? I was already treading the fine line between good and evil, long before the latest turn of events - long before I had plunged headfirst into the blackened pits of evil. I hadn't killed anyone, not directly. But I had played Judge, deciding who was worthy of living and who deserved death. I had hurt the ones I cared about most and made certain they had no desire to ever be near me again. What use was there for a soul in my body?

And the answer came just as easily and painstakingly obvious as the question had come. To care. The only thing keeping me from total darkness was that I couldn't quite let go of my connections to the world. No matter how much I blocked Cordelia and Wesley and Gunn out of my life, I always checked up on them every now and then. And no matter what evil I turned my head to, a small part of me lashed out every time I saw a wrongdoing. And even though I tried my hardest at shunning everyone and everything, I let myself open up slightly to Kate.

I sat up straight. KATE!!!

As if to confirm my desperate cry inside, thunder rumbled threateningly outside my window. Doom. Darkness. More fury. All of that would lie ahead, yes, but for now. I had one soul left to save, one more smudge of gray to add to that black-and-white painting. I reached out, my hand carefully finding its way over the floor until it found my familiar black pants. I pulled them on, carefully being as silent as possible. I didn't want to wake Darla, for she was still a vampire with no soul.

And I.

Well, I didn't know how much longer I had to hold onto my soul, but if indeed my romp in the sack with Darla was enough to remove my soul from my being then. I only hoped I had enough time to get to Kate and to get her to safety. If I wasn't too late already.

I did ninety-five almost the entire way over. It was a wonder I wasn't pulled for speeding. Maybe it was fate's way of holding its breath, anticipating my arrival at her house? Hope or despair? The promise of tomorrow or the quiet end to today?

I found her stretched out on the floor, surrounded by an array of pills and alcohol. The bottle of vodka was empty except for a few last drops she had spared. It was a wonder she hadn't passed out from alcohol consumption alone. Quickly, I checked for a pulse. She was still fighting. Barely hanging on. I scooped her up in my arms, afraid I might drop her. Her body was so ragged and lifeless, and I couldn't stop my own body from trembling. I wasn't sure if it was out of fear or loathing. The Champion I had once been would have never let this happen. The Champion I had once been would have staked Darla and fled to Kate's side, telling her it wasn't worth it. or getting her to help even sooner. But the Champion I had once been had died out, consumed by the ash of the weak man inside.

Consumed by the darkness.

I had called 911 from my cell phone on the way over to the hospital. They were standing by when I arrived, and immediately, she was taken back into an area I wasn't allowed in. I was told to sit and wait, to help myself to some free water or perhaps a cheap snack from the snack machine. The doctor would let me know soon. But I couldn't just. sit. No, if Kate died, it would be my fault. It would mean that there was nothing left to me. I hadn't been the one to kill her directly, but I had let the desperate need of a friend fall on deaf ears because of the darkness. I had never wanted to bring my friends into the darkness, and I certainly didn't want to lose them to darkness, either.

And now. it might all be too late.

*****

Long before the doctor had even reached me, I knew what the answer would be. I could see it in the way the florescent light reflected off his tear-filled eyes. I could sense it in the way he hung his head slightly as he scribbled on one of the papers held in place by his clipboard. Even the way he neatly tucked his pen into his pocket held the foreboding sense of melancholy that was about to come my way.

He walked up to me. Didn't shake my hand, though. No, shaking one's hand meant greeting them warmly, happily almost. There was no happiness, not here, not now. He would rather just get the hard part over with, move onto a more promising case with better results. And maybe later tonight he could return to the waiting room with good news for the patient's family and friends. "Angel?" he presumed.

I nodded, slightly. I couldn't break my stare with him, not for the world. I needed it confirmed. I needed my destiny sealed. I needed to hear that Kate was dead and that this was the end of all assurance for my future, my redemption.

He hung his head, so I couldn't see the tears in his eyes. And so he couldn't see the anguish in mine. "I'm sorry, but. it was just too late, and. she was too far gone."

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and realized the sound had come from me. It was one of the human reflexes I still had left from my days of walking in the sun. Now it looked as though I might never have my chance at the sun again. Darkness had claimed the life of one of my friends. How much further could it go? Had it already claimed me? I turned to go, needing to get out of this place. Needing to wander by myself, through the streets of anger and depression.

"You will need to fill out some paperwork, you understand?" the doctor continued gently.

"If it's all right, I'd just like to return home now. I can take care of that tomorrow," I explained, to which the doctor nodded in understanding. But there would be no more tomorrow. Nor a day after that. As far as I was concerned, there were no more days. Only an endless night. But time didn't concern me anymore. Nothing did. The soul inside was gone, I told myself. It had been gone for weeks, months even. But not totally gone. No, it would be totally gone in a matter of minutes.

So I told myself.

But I waited and waited. I drove down to the ocean. I drove home. I returned to my bedroom to find Darla and her clothes had disappeared into the night. I walked around the different floors of the buildings, thinking of all the troubled souls I had surrendered. But my soul would not leave. It wandered around inside of me, restless and yet tired from trying so hard to break through the bounds of unholy freedom while I pushed it aside.

I raised my eyes upwards, praying for the first time in quite possibly my entire existence, begging God to just take my soul from me. I was of no use to Him with my soul. At least without it, there would be some excuse for killing me; and some justifiable cause as to why vengeance and punishment had become necessity in my life. But God must not have been listening because my soul wouldn't leave.

And the pain hung around. It hurt, more than I could remember it. Why couldn't I have been freed? Freed from all the guilt and sorrow? At least Angelus had been free. Free to live whatever kind of after-death he wanted to live without for one second stopping to feel.

I don't know how long I stayed in the hotel, moving among the shadows, dragging my feet as if they weighed as much as my body alone. They must have found my number among Kate's personal items, for soon hospital workers and inspectors were calling my number. I would just stare at the machine, not wanting to answer it. I wasn't ready to deal with what I had done yet. And it wasn't as though they needed me to solve any unseen mystery. Kate's death had been pretty cut-and-dry. Her job - her life - had been taken from her because she was fighting for what she believed in. Seeing no light at the end of the tunnel now stretched before her, she decided to end her misery before it could completely overtake her. Pretty much a clean case of suicide. So I let the phone ring, never going near the phone except to empty the message box every now and then.

And that's when I heard another familiar voice. It was a message, short and sweet, wedged in between all the hassling of officials. It was Xander. Not the person I was expecting - or even hoping - to hear from, but the fact that he had called from Sunnydale had to mean something was up. The message was a couple days old, the machine system told me. I listened.

"Angel, is this you? It sounded like Cordelia on the answering machine, so I'm pretty sure this is the right number. Anyway, this is Xander, and since we all know things were never that great between you and me, I'll keep this short. Things aren't good here. Buffy is in state of shock and sadness, and none of us can reach her. Not even Dawn. We're all worried. Please, try to talk to her. Do something." Beep.

My mind was racing. Buffy was in a state of shock and sadness? What had happened? Obviously something terrible. It sounded as though Xander were absolutely desperate. He also sounded. choked up. Something really terrible must have happened. And now Buffy was. heartbroken. I had to call her, had to talk to her, had to let her know that everything would be okay.

But as I hastily picked up the phone to dial the familiar number, I stopped myself. How could I let hr know everything would be okay when I wasn't sure myself? The world had its odd way of completely screwing me over, and suddenly. this? More than anything I wanted to be there for her, but I knew that calling her would in no way help her. If anything, it would only drag her deeper into the darkness. Into my darkness. It was a dangerous place to be.

So I erased the message, pretended not to be affected by the heartfelt plea. Pretended as though I'd never heard it, though I couldn't tell my heart otherwise. I finished clearing my messages and returned to my wallowing through the long corridors, dragging my feet and hanging my head and wondering if I could ever be more pathetic.

That wasn't the end of it, though. For Xander's cry for help hadn't completely fell upon deaf ears. And neither did the sound of Buffy's timid and fragile walk entering the large hotel. The main corridor held so many echoes that I was able to hear her footsteps from my own room. Such a sound stood out drastically against the overbearing silence that usually filled the large building.

I hurried to the stairs, slowing my pace as I looked over the railing. She was beautiful, radiant. Her skin was glowing, her hair shining, and her eyes glimmering. glimmering from the tears that caught the light. She was looking around slightly confused, slightly lost. Helpless, mostly. I felt a tiny bust of excitement to know that she was looking for me.

I approached her from behind, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "Buffy." She jumped, whirling around to face me. I saw the puffy redness of her eyes and the tear stains trailing gently down her face. She looked as though she hadn't slept - or eaten - in days. She trembled at the sight of me, more of writhed, collapsing against my chest in a sudden fit of sobs. I knew not who or what she was crying for, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was crying into my arms, that she needed me right now. And ever so carefully, I reached up to brush away her hair, her tear-soaked hair, from her face. "It's all right now," I assured her. Although I was never really sure if it would ever be "all right."

*****

It took me awhile to get the truth out of her, and it wasn't long before I realized why Buffy was so shaken. Her mother. her own mother. was gone. I tried to think, tried to remember my own mother, how it would have felt had she been killed while I was still young and human. I wouldn't have cared much, I suppose, but I had never had the relationship Buffy had had with her mom. They were friends now, almost like sisters, able to talk about boys and relationships and just about everything together. It was a stronghold Buffy had come to depend on over the years, even when she had been kicked out. No matter who she had battled in the night, she could always come home to find Joyce Summers waiting up for her. It was safety, really.

A safety Buffy had been robbed of , all too soon.

"She had been so happy. so alive." Buffy recalled, half in a daze, shaking her head in a marveled way. "I don't understand how she could just." A single tear trickled out from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. She looked at me. "Why do you think that is, Angel? What'd she do to deserve it? What'd I do.?"

"Sssshhh," I soothed her gently, pulling her against my chest once more. We were now sitting side by side on a couch in the lobby, her head resting against me. I could feel the part of my shirt she was lying on slowly grow damp with tears.

"First it was the cancer. And then Dawn. And with Glory and all, I thought it would be enough!" she cried. "Why did they just have to take her?"

"I don't know," I whispered, resting my chin thoughtfully on top of her head.

She sniffled loudly, the noise echoing off the marble pillars and down the barren hallways. "What did I do to deserve.?"

I made my voice as definite as I could manage, when in reality, I had been dealing with the same question. What had I done to deserve the weight of everyone's pain? "You didn't do anything, Buffy." But my voice sounded uncertain, ever to my own ears. It was hard to be certain of much anymore.

I felt her face twisting in the anguish and the hatred that had been eating away at her. "Then why do I feel like my world is coming to an end? Why is it that I fight and fight to lose the people around me?" Her voice choked off in sobs, and she wept with pain into my chest. "I feel like I've lost the world," she whispered, gaining enough strength to form the words in between the convulsions of sorrow.

Once again, I stroked her back and assured her everything would be okay in time. Although now, more than ever, I began to realize that things would never ever be okay. Ever.

*****

I don't know how exactly she managed to cope with her loss. Sure, I had lost a friend, a friend that shouldn't have died, who I felt died partly because of me. I was overwhelmed with guilt. and with frustration. Guilt for all the pain that had been emptying itself into the world lately. And frustration because I couldn't feel what Buffy was feeling. She had lost a family member, someone who had stuck by her through it all, someone who meant more to her than the world. And I couldn't relate. I couldn't help her. I just had to stand by and watch.

But what frustrated me the most was what I didn't see. After the first night she had come to see me, after that long period of mourning and anger, there was nothing. It was as if she had cried out all her tears, as if she had moved on in one night. That's what she wanted me to believe; what she wanted herself to believe. But oh, no, I was smarter than that. Any human being was. I knew words couldn't even begin to describe what she felt inside, and she just held it all in, concealed it so well behind her tired and lonely eyes. She didn't want to let me in anymore.

I tried. I tried oh so hard to break into the wall she managed to build around herself, but every time I tried to talk to her about it, her eyes would grow wide with pain, and she'd run to her room, closing the door and locking it behind her. She could deny me the satisfaction of helping her, but she couldn't deny what had happened. Joyce Summers had died. There was no way around it.

But when the hard shell continued for two weeks with no signs of weakness, I was beginning to thing that maybe Buffy had found a way around it. Maybe denial had worked. Maybe she could just deal better by herself, alone at night, tucked under the covers. Maybe I had misjudged what she had needed. But in any effect, I continued to care for her in any way I could, bringing her food or drink when she needed it. Guaranteeing her peace and quiet when she was tired. Anything that could ease her load I fought to bring to her. I couldn't tell if it had helped. After all, I couldn't tell a single thing about what she was feeling. Not anymore.

After two weeks of no anger, no sorrow, I believed it would be okay to leave her at the hotel by herself. She could take care of herself for a few hours. And if she couldn't. well. I always had a cell phone around. That's what they were for, right? Those emergency, I-can't-live-through-this situations? So I bid her farewell, gave her a quick hug of support, and left for the karaoke bar.

I never made it to the karaoke bar, in all honesty. No, I was only a mere block away when I was stopped by the sudden presence of another. A presence that filled me with utter hatred. Hatred that now blocked all other emotions I had once felt for this person. But she wasn't a person. At one time, she had been a god to me. Now, I couldn't bare to look at her. She had kept me from Kate. She had proven to me my weakness, and because of it, I had lost a friend.

"Angel," she proclaimed, the word rolling off her tongue almost like a melody. There was glee in her voice. "Where has my dear boy been?" She began tracing her fingers all over my body, and I stiffened at her touch.

"Get away," I growled, tossing her hands from my body.

She laughed that silvery laugh, her eyes dancing over my face jovially. "Poor Angel. So caught between lust and friendship, between light and dark." She leaned close to me, so close the fragrance she wore filled my nostrils with the scent. I almost gagged. "You do know darkness won, don't you?"

With that, I lunged at her, grabbing at her. This led to battle, full-fledged, the kind that would eventually lead to a death. The unlucky recipient of such an end was still undetermined. But too much had gone on lately. I had lost too much, learned too much, overcome too much. I wasn't prepared to just roll over and die. And perhaps that what suddenly gained me the upperhand. Somehow it happened that I had Darla by the throat, stake sliding into my other hand out of my jacket sleeve. It was about to end.

Now.

And for all.

But just then, the cell phone rang. I muttered a small chain of curse words before replacing the stake with the cell phone. I wasn't easing my grip on Darla, though. Not when eternal victory was this close.

But eternal victory just wasn't this close. Because it was Buffy on the other end of the line. Buffy, who had held up the strong front for the past two weeks. Buffy, who couldn't keep it in any longer. Buffy, whose tear-filled voice was almost muffled by the howling of the wind. She was some place high up, some place where the wind blew swift and strong. Like the top of a building. "It's all my fault," she told me sadistically.

I could barely make out her words through my alarm and panic, through the wind, through her pain. "Buffy, where are you?"

"I should've done something. I should've told her I loved her or spent more time at home," she told me. "I shouldn't have let her die."

"Buffy, stop what you're doing. Please. Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, Angel," she apologized, her words now mixed with guttural sobs. "I'm sorry. you have to. to live in a. cruel world. I wish. life was. different. God, I'm so sorry!"

"Buffy, stop!"

The line went dead.

Another string of curse words escaped, and I tossed the phone aside. I looked to Darla. She was grinning broadly, knowing full well that I came to face the dilemma. Satisfy the needs of the weak man by seeking my vengeance on her now or go after Buffy to save just one more soul. In her mind, Darla knew the answer. I was too late to save Kate, but I would not be too late to save Buffy. Never. I tossed the vampire back against a wall and took off for the hotel.

Thank God my guess was correct. As soon as I had arrived back at the hotel, I caught a glimpse of her blonde hair from over the ledge. She looked like she was climbing up to the very edge. I didn't stay to watch her long. All it took was the sight of her blonde hair wisping in the breeze, and I had already taken off, into the building, up the stairs, up, up, till I had reached the roof. She was looking down at the street below, her back to me.

"Buffy!" I cried out.

She turned to look at me, the expression on her face so heartbroken I wanted to cry. She looked incredibly helpless and torn, standing there, nothing standing between life and death but a single fall.

I advanced a step. "Please don't do this."

"Why'd she have to die?!" Buffy demanded. "What'd she do to deserve this?! You know what they told me?! There was no cause of death! No cause! Why, then?! Why'd they take her from me?!" I'd never heard her speak with such rage and misery. "What'd I do?!"

Her knees buckled then, and I darted over to catch her before she could tumble in the wrong direction. Her body became nothing but a living, breathing mass of sobs gathered into my arms and held in my protection. She looked up at me. "What'd I do.?!"

"Sometimes stuff happens, and you can't predict it, and you can't even see it till after it happens. But that doesn't mean you can't move on. You have to keep going," I told her with such finality I almost surprised myself. I had heard the words somewhere, the echoes of a lost friend. Whistler, I believed his name to be. He had said something like that. Never had they rung so true. "No matter how much it hurts, you've got to keep going."

"I can't."

I place one hand on each side of her face, tilting her head up to look me in the eye. "That's what I'm here for." Our eyes met then, exchanging something more powerful than the passion we had ever shared between us. We were lifelines now. Lifelines and soulmates and friends and lovers. I was shaken by the electricity shooting through me. "Now. can we please get back inside?"

And even through her tears and her unending suffering, I saw the tiniest of smiles appear, barely tugging at the corners of her saddened mouth.

As I led her in, I realized that it had changed. The score had changed. I hadn't won the big picture, I hadn't filled the canvas with bright white. But I had saved Buffy, rescuing her from blackness, slowly bringing her back into the white light she deserved. And while the world was full of the blackness of evil, I could bring forth the murky gray, mixing in the pure white until the gray grew lighter and lighter and maybe, just maybe, the picture would hold less and less black. and more white.

What'd ya think?

Send feedback to Katie

Back to the Fanfiction Archive