Rating: umm...I'm thinking along the lines of PG...in the meantime. Who knows what the future might bring:).
Disclaimer: nope, last time I checked, nothing was min e.
Spoilers: well...better safe than sorry: everything up to t he end of season 3 can be spoilery.
Synopsis: I have a strange drive to rewrite season 3 of BtV S. I just don't seem to like the way it ended...beats me why. Anyway, so despite the fact that the original plan was to begin with "Helpless" (that's aroun d the time everything really started getting screwed up B/A-wise), as you can see , plan's changed and I'm going to start with "Anne". If you expect to find in this series events/quotes from the original season....I seriously mean it - I'll try my hardest keeping them to the very minimum. But all in all - it's probably a yet another attempt to end the season on a more "positive" B/A level. See h ow it goes:).
Pairing: the conventional ships: B/A, W/O, C/X. If I decide to torture any/all of them, you'll be the first to know:).
Distribution: ask first.
Feedback: please, yes, please.

If I listen closely
I can hear a dying dream
I'm on vacation in the land of shame
We'll be alone together
In a world we call our own
We'll be alone together
In a place that doesn't feel like home

- Vast, "Land of Shame"

****

Giles eyed the demon carefully for several seconds, but did as he had been asked, and took a seat on the couch.

"You're not human," the Watcher observed thoughtfully.

Whistler's eyes widened in playful astonishment. "Good eye!" he exclaimed. "See, now, all these years of Watcher's training finally pay off."

Giles drew in a sharp breath, fighting with the urge to say something he might later regret on. "What do you want?" he asked. "Why are you here, I'm guessing it's not to kill me, because you would have done it already, had it been the case…"

"Do you *always" talk so much?" Whistler rolled his eyes. "Let's start this again, shall we?" He gestured at himself. "Whistler. A demon. A messenger for The Powers That Be."

Suddenly it hit Giles. Whistler. Of course! "Buffy mentioned you," he told the demon.

"Alleluia!" Whistler exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. When he saw the Watcher glare at him, he grinned. "I hope she only mentioned the good things."

Giles didn't answer, only expectantly looked at the demon. "What do you want?" he repeated his question from before.

"Right now, a good shot of whiskey would do, but as I already said, you kinda lack those," Whistler chuckled, and briefly looked down to the floor, drawing patterns on the carpet with the pointed edge of his shoe. "What I *want* really isn't the point here," he mused, then shrugged. "Or maybe it is, I don't know. I'm doing a favor, been doing a lot of those recently," he muttered, rubbing the small of his back. Then he took a deep breath, and leveled his gaze with the Watcher's. "I just don't want the kid to have to do this. She's been through enough already, she doesn't need to deal with this, too."

"She?…" Giles frowned. "You mean, Buffy?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "The one and only. Look," he inclined forward, resting his elbows on his knees and entwining his fingers together. "She would have told you eventually. The reason I'm doing this is not because I was asked to, but because I…well, want to," he smirked. "Kinda. I told you, I don't wanna put her through this, she has enough on her shoulders already."

"What would she have told me?" the man obviously had no idea what the demon was talking about. He also wasn't sure he was going to like it.

"She told you all about Angel, right? That I'd come to see her in LA?"

"Yes," Giles nodded, "she said you had told her that the key to bringing Angel back was forgiveness." He eyed the demon thoughtfully. "What did you mean by that?"

"I meant exactly what you told her, that forgiveness is a process, that it takes time. In order to bring Angel back, she didn't need to forgive him, she just needed to…be ready to begin said process, to accept *Angel* the way he was, you follow?" he peered at the man expectantly.

The Watcher nodded. "What does it have to do with me, then?"

"That's kinda…" the demon smirked, looking away for a moment, "what I'm here for." He gazed back at the Watcher, his eyes serious, as if preparing the man for something dreadful. "Angel is back," came the blow.

Giles almost choked on his breath. He stared at the demon, his mouth slightly open. He needed a few moments to collect himself, and to acknowledge the fact that it wasn't a dream, and that what he had just heard had been truly uttered, and not some part of his imagination. "W-what?" he still couldn't help but ask, bringing his hand to cover his forehead, which abruptly started to ache.

"He's back," Whistler simply replied, with no further ado, seeing as the man sitting in front of him wasn't in the mood for any of his wisecracks, and it really wasn't the best timing either. "He has been back for some weeks, actually."

Giles pursed his lips, nodding. "So that's where she's been going," he mumbled.

The demon nodded. "He's at the mansion, the one on Crawford St.," he went on. "And to your question, yeah. She was also there when they first brought him back."

"They?" Giles shot him a perplexed look, inwardly contemplating over how much more would he be able to take. "She lied to me…" he whispered.

"Look," Whistler cut him firmly, holding up his hand. "I'm here *because* I didn't want her to be the one to tell you, she doesn't even know I'm here, she still thinks this burden is on her. She shouldn't be the one to have to do this. That is, she should, but…not now, not at this point, but *now* is the time. And she *didn't* lie to you," he peered at the Watcher, his eyes trying to make him understand. "It hasn't been easy on her."

"Really?" the man allowed a jittery chuckle. "It hasn't?"

"*Try* to imagine what she's been through…"

"Why don't you help me with that?" the Watcher interrupted the demon.

Whistler sighed. "She needed to be there for him around the clock, because he was trying to commit suicide…around the clock. He was ripped out of demon's dimension, a Hell where he had been sent while "in* possession of his soul, a Hell where he, with his *soul*, was tortured in ways you can't even conceive. He was, still *is* a wreck of a person, shattered pieces of what he once used to be. You wouldn't recognize him, if you saw him, I guarantee you that much," he nodded pointedly. "Now, you try to imagine what she needed to go through on daily basis. That's her lover we're talking about here. The state he's been in is not something you have words for, and *she* was the one taking care of him the entire. It's like taking care of a child…rewind that," he waved his hand, "worse than that. She didn't even bother to convince him to eat at the beginning, because it was in vain and she knew that, but she needed to be there for the case he would have a nightmare, which would happen so frequently she hardly could rest her own eyes for five minutes straight. She had to make sure he wasn't in any physical pain, as much as it was up to her. And last, but not least, make sure he didn't either burn or staked himself the second she would turn her head around. Are you even beginning to see the pattern here?" he finished his speech, challenging the Watcher with his piercing gaze.

Giles sighed, and buried his face in the palms of his hands. It was just too much. Too much. And yet, inside, he felt he shouldn't be surprised at all. "She wanted to tell me," he mumbled, without looking up at the demon, "that day in the library, she wanted to tell me, then Xander walked in, and…"

"Yes," Whistler cut in, sneering, "speaking of her ass-of-a-friend, he certainly contributed his part to make her days a lot easier."

"How…how is he…now?" Giles stammered, unable to believe he's actually uttering these words.

"Color me stunned, you care?!" Whistler couldn't help the quip. "Why don't you ask him yourself? No, wait, you can't do that, since he doesn't really talk…*ever*."

The Watcher didn't understand.

"He doesn't talk. Simple. He hasn't said a word since he came back. Up until last night, he also kept his safety-distance from Buffy."

"He understands they can't be together," Giles nodded. "That's good."

"Good, my ass!" Whistler exclaimed. "Don't you get it, when The Powers are involved it's not about 'can' or 'can't', it's about what they *want*. He was brought back for a reason," he told Giles what he had told Buffy and Angel earlier that night, "he has a large role in the scheme of things, and so does your Slayer, and the path they walk is one."

"But the curse…"

"What curse? There is no curse, he's safe now. His soul is bound to him, it's his, permanently." He paused, and for the next phrase, his tone softened. "The demon that killed your girlfriend is gone," he promised. "And he's never coming back. There's just Angel now. And he needs your help," he said, and when the man sighed heavily, added, "and if not your help, then at least, your understanding."

A poignant chuckle escaped the Watcher's lips. "Understanding," he echoed.

"What's up, you forgot everything you've been preaching to all who's willing to listen these last few weeks?" Whistler dared him. "It was so easy babbling when you knew you would never have to take responsibility for your words, wasn't it? *That's* the greatest test that...love you claim to admire so much, had to overcome, and it prevailed." He sternly looked at the Watcher, a warning in his eyes. "Don't screw it up for him."

Giles narrowed his eyes. "You don't have the right…"

"No, that's where you're wrong," the demon stood up sharply. "I was sent here, for the first time, for Angel, to guide him, to bring him to our side, to give him a reason to become someone, to do good, and I think you also know *who* that reason was. Angel, and *everything* that happens to him, is under my responsibility, so I have every right. I came here to help out a friend, because I thought I could make you listen. Guess I was wrong," he shrugged. "Sorry to bother you." He turned around and walked to the door, where he suddenly stopped and turned back to Giles. "And don't show your face there, unless I succeeded in what I was trying to achieve. Neither one of them needs a lecture." Saying that, he opened the door, and closed it behind him.

****

The vampire was standing two feet from the pool of sunlight emerging from the glass patio doors, holding his right hand up, until his palm was inches away from the deadly light. His eyes were focused on the upside of his palm, completely impassive, even when a small hand reached from behind him and took his large one, pulling it, and him with it, farther into the safety of shadows.

Holding his hand firmly in hers, Buffy walked him to the couch, where she sat down, sitting him down with her.

Angel obeyed, not saying anything, and it looked like he reversed back to his state pre-Whistler's visit. But then he slightly shook his head, grimacing as if the simple act caused him a headache, and wrapped his arms around himself.

The Slayer enveloped him in her arms, and he slowly lowered his head down onto her lap, while folding his legs and lifting them up on the sofa.

A shudder ran through his body once it came in contact with her flesh, and he involuntarily released his hold around himself and moved his hands to lay on her knees.

The Slayer bent down and ran her fingers through his hair, before laying her cheek on his head and wrapping her arms around him. "Stay with me," she whispered, her unshed tears perceptible in her soft voice. She planted a kiss on his skull, and sniffled, when one of his hands traveled upwards, and lay atop hers on his head. "Don't ever say anything, just…promise you'll stay with me," she whispered.

There was quiet. She swallowed hard, and inhaled a shaky breath, closing her eyes.

"I-I…love you," came his faltering reply, in a barely heard whisper, which almost caused Buffy's heart to stop.

The Slayer bit her lip, smiling, and kissed his head again. "I missed your voice," she laughed shortly, her voice husky with tears.

"Scared," he confessed, after a moment of silence, his voice giving away the impression of a person who'd forgotten how to pronounce words after centuries of not using them. 

"I know," Buffy tightened her embrace around Angel, trying to shield him from his demons with her arms only. "I'm scared, too, but I love you, and we're together, and that's the only thing that counts."

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