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 mine.

Spoilers: well...better safe than sorry: everything up to the end of season 3 can be spoilery.

Synopsis: I have a strange drive to rewrite season 3 of BtVS. 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 around 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 how 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.

****

I came looking for some love
All I found is that I found
I haven't found enough
I stand alone now
I stand alone
Can you save me from myself? Vast - "Temptation"

****

Buffy hesitantly paced into the sunlit courtyard of the Sunnydale high, her eyes roaming about the place, searching for both someone and no one in particular. And then she descried him. He was sitting on a bench, approximately twenty feet away from her, his back, hunched as if under some invisible burden, facing her.

The Slayer halted, not knowing whether she should proceed.

"You're still afraid of me," she perceived him saying quietly, voicing her precise deliberation, but without turning to her.

She didn't say anything. Something told her she wouldn't be able to lie to him. Ever. Not just because he could read her thoughts, see her through, she just couldn't. Never. Not to him. "I'm not sure," she finally managed, and it came out in a timid whisper. "I don't know."

"Who should know, then?" Angel inquired, still not looking at her. "I'm not the one who's dreaming." He shrugged, manifestly indifferently. "I can't dream. So it must be you."

Buffy stared at him for a long while, then took a deep breath, venturing to proceed a few more steps in his direction. Once reaching a safe, but close enough spot, she stopped again. "You're angry with me," she said, making it more an assertion than a question.

The vampire shook his head slightly. "No," he simply responded, in his most emotionless tone.

It abruptly seemed to Buffy he wasn't truly there. Like he was somewhere else, in spirit, if not in body. And yet, he was sitting right here. If she only made a few more steps closer, if she only reached out… but she would never come closer, would never reach out. She knew that for a fact. She didn't have the right. "I miss you," she found herself saying before she could grasp what was happening and prevent the calamitous words from escaping her lips.

Once again, he didn't even look up. "You should," he observed harshly, though his voice while uttering these words was everything but. It was, there too, completely apathetic. In contrast to the meaning behind the words, there wasn't a hint of denunciation in it.

For several moments to come, Buffy still felt his words pierce right through her heart, leaving a gaping hole. Why had he said that, how could he?

"You deserve it," Angel answered her question as if he had heard the unspoken words. Then he shrugged again. "It's *your* dream."

"I miss you," she reiterated her former slip, which only proved to her it could not be merely a slip. She had no control whatsoever over these three simple words. They seemed to have a life and a power of their own.

"So you said," he remarked icily. "Still, it's not why you're really here."

"Here?" she murmured, confused, gazing around herself as if she was seeing the place for the first time. "Where are we?" her voice received a strange note to it at that point, one of a frightened child.

Another shrug. "How should I know? All I know is that you brought me here, too." He groaned, but there was no irritation in it. "Ask me," he prompted.

"Ask you…" she mumbled, to herself rather than to him. "Ask you what?…" the Slayer fixed her gaze on the back of his head, studying it with piercing eyes. She knew what. Of course she knew. "Forgive me?…" she dared, in that same small terrified voice.

"Forgive you?" he retorted with a question, his voice mocking her.

"You can't," she didn't waste time to come to that observation.

Finally, he revolved, enough for her to see his face.

Buffy jumped back, both in horror and surprise, panting, wide-eyed. She felt her legs were about to cave underneath her.

Angel's face was dead, partly decaying, and yet, his sneering smirk was stretched from ear to ear. He seemed to be enjoying it. Every minute of it. "Can you?" he asked, challenging.

At that moment, Buffy opened her eyes.

****

"Morning, honey," Joyce peeped into her daughter's bedroom, then walked in. She sauntered over to Buffy's bed, where she found the Slayer sitting cross-legged, deeply engrossed in a tiny object she was holding in her hands. "You're up early," she observed, smiling, and sat down on the bed.

Buffy only briefly looked up at her mother, not saying anything.

"A Claddagh ring," Joyce observed, regarding the object in Buffy's hand.

The Slayer's head shot up, her eyes probing her mother for explanation.

"I read about it somewhere. Interesting," Mrs. Summers shrugged, then regained her former grin. "There's supposed to be a second half to it, you know that?"

Buffy didn't say anything for a moment. "Its second half is in Hell," she whispered eventually, her eyes focused on the small silver ring, "suffering an eternity of inconceivable torture. And I sent him there."

The grin instantly vanished from Joyce's features. An uncontrollable shudder ran through her at the memory of what her daughter had told her last night. Buffy would never know it, but it had deprived sleep from her eyes the entire night. She had no idea that a person, *any* person, and especially her daughter, would ever be able to endure so much. She still hadn't decided what she would do regarding the 'Angel issue', as she was now referring to it. He was dead, if to rely on what Buffy had told her, so he wasn't a problem that must be taken care of this instant. Mrs. Summers had no idea how she would have reacted to everything she had been told by her daughter, had Angel been still alive. Would she have done anything in her power to keep the two apart? He was, had been, after all, a vampire. A creature of darkness and evil, *and* over two centuries older than Buffy. Nevertheless, the man the Slayer had talked about last night…Joyce couldn't put 'darkness' and 'evil' in the same sentence with him even if she tried real hard. What her daughter had told her about was a man with a pure soul and a good heart. A man who had been good for her, who had loved her, had trusted her…who she had killed…

Joyce sighed, reposing a solacing hand on Buffy's back. "I'm sorry," was all she found in her power to say, knowing it was as good as nothing.

Buffy offered her a weak smile, then put the Claddagh ring back into her drawer and stood up, heading towards her closet.

"You're going somewhere?" her mother asked, inwardly glad to change the subject.

"Yeah," the blonde sighed, obviously not too eager to leave. "I need to check in with…with Giles. I need to tell him I'm back. He is my Watcher."

"I see," Joyce observed, in a voice Buffy recognized only too well.

The Slayer dropped a shirt she was holding back on the shelf and whirled around to face her mother. "What's wrong?" she wanted to know.

The woman took a deep breath, bracing herself for the upcoming. "You don't have to go."

"How come?" Buffy didn't follow.

"Because he's on his way here right now," her mother informed guiltily. "I called him first thing in the morning. Honey, I know you need your privacy, to settle down, and…" she was stuttering, clearly aware of her having done wrong, "but I just was so excited-"

"You called Giles?" the blonde cut in. It took her a few seconds to, at least partially, absorb this news.

"And your friends…"

"And my *friends*?!"

"Honey, I'm so sorry…"

"Oh, my God," the Slayer groaned, flopping down on her bed, covering her head with her hands. "How am I supposed to face all of them at once?" she murmured.

Joyce was just about to try to say something, when they were both startled by the ringing of the doorbell.

****

"Buffy," the Englishman smiled warmly, as his eyes lay on his long-lost Slayer, after he had managed to adjust to her being there. He couldn't find the words to describe how he felt at the moment, when he walked into the Summers' living room, and found the girl he saw as his daughter safe and in one piece. He was never the man to show off his emotions, but what he felt the moment he saw her again was definitely something he had never felt before. He had only then fully realized how much he loved her. She really had never 'been *just* the Slayer. Having no will to restrain himself at that point, he reached out for her and enfolded her in his arms, releasing a breath of relief, especially when she hugged him back.

"It's so good to have you back," he grinned, releasing her from his embrace, finding her eyes gratefully shining up at him. He could tell there was great anguish concealed behind that facade of a smile, but he wouldn't push her. He would leave the choice in her hands. She would tell him, when she would decide it's time. He knew she would.

The Slayer beamed at her Watcher, her orbs silently thanking him for his support, even at a time it might have not been the only thing she deserved. "Will?" she turned to her best friend, who was, all the while, standing behind Giles, nervously studying her shoes.

The Watcher cleared his throat and excused himself out of the room, following Joyce to the kitchen, thus leaving Xander, Willow and Buffy alone in the living room.

"You won't even talk to me?" the Slayer inquired her friend, her tone verging despair.

Willow only looked up. Her green eyes were confused and compassionate at the same time. She was obviously trying to determine an inner battle between her will to hug her best friend and her will to let all her pent-up frustration out on the person who had initially caused it.

"You actually expect her to talk to you?" Xander asked, glaring at the blonde Slayer. "You're the one who took off months ago without a word to anyone, why don't *you* talk? Don't *you* have something to tell us?" he perched down on the couch and folded his arms on his chest, not breaking their eye contact the entire time. "I'm all ears," he announced, then looked at his friend, motioning for her to join him on the sofa. "Sit down, Will, Buffy has something to tell us."

The Slayer swallowed, ruefully eyeing her friend. She wasn't quite sure yet if she had predicted this behavior or not. Did she even deserve it?…

"I don't have to take this from you," she found herself saying.

"Like Hell you don't!" he spat. "What were you expecting, then? 'Welcome home, Buffy'? 'We're so glad you're back, Buffy'? You think you deserve *this*?"

The blonde flinched. "I don't know what I deserve," she whispered, her eyes watering up, "but I don't deserve to be judged before you know all the details, and which you don't, Xander," she shook her head, sniffling back tears. "You have no idea."

The boy beheld her, his glare softening by the moment. He didn't really hate her. He couldn't, she was his best friend. He loved her. He had missed her. He was sure as Hell she owed him at least an explanation for disappearing without a trace. Both him and Willow.

"Tell us, then," he made an inviting gesture with his hand.

"No." Being the last possible reply Xander had expected to hear, it hadn't taken the Slayer too long to give it.

He intended to respond, when Willow lay a hand on his arm, indicating for him to be quiet and let her speak.

"Buffy," she gazed at her best friend, "I need you to…I need to understand, I *want* to…*we* want to understand…"

"I can't," the Slayer shook her head, wiping her eyes with her hand. "I'm sorry," she cried, pleading with her friend to understand, "please…I'm sorry." When Willow's face reflected nothing but disappointment mixed with compassion, Buffy rose to her feet, silently making her way to the front door. "I need air," she murmured, while grabbing her jacket on her way.

"Oh, no, you don't," Xander was the first to recover, and took off after her. He snatched her arm just before she was about to open the door, and whirled her around.

Buffy's face was solemn. "Unhand me," she commanded inaudibly, not looking at him.

The brown-haired boy shook his head in a determinate 'no'. "You're not running this time," he informed her. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

She nodded, seemingly giving in. but then, before he knew what hit him, summoned her Slayer's strength to release herself from his grip. "You don't know anything, Xander," she whispered, fighting against already running tears. "You don't know a darn thing. *You*, of all people, don't have the right!"

"The right for what?!" he exclaimed. "For a decent explanation?!" he narrowed his eyes. "Maybe we should ask your honey, then? That's another question I would really appreciate to e answered, where exactly *is* your fiend of a boyfriend?" he was inwardly taken aback by the flash of pain in Buffy's eyes; so much pain that it scared him. He had never wished to be able to take words back the way he did now. But typically, he couldn't. And didn't.

"Xander, enough!" he heard Willow's approaching voice, and a moment later, she was by his side. "Up to here," she warned him. "Buffy," she turned to the Slayer, who hadn't let out a sound the entire time. "Buffy, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice slightly terrified by what was transpiring before her very eyes.

The Slayer was pinned up to the shut door, tears flowing from under the shut eyelids, her entire body trembling.

Willow hesitantly lay a hand on her shoulder, but Buffy darted away from her touch. Within a second, the door was slammed behind her with a loud thud.

"What happened?" Joyce instantly emerged from the kitchen, wearing a frightened and concerned expression, with Giles in tow.

When their eyes didn't find Buffy, the Watcher repeated the woman's question, only more anxiously this time. "What happened here?!"

"I don't know," Willow was the one to reply, still shocked from the state in which she had last seen her friend. "They were arguing," she gestured at Xander, "and then she…she started shivering and crying and…" she gazed up at the two adults with teary eyes. "What's wrong with her?"

Giles swallowed and sighed. "She killed Angel," he told her.

Go to the next story Essence of Forgiveness

Send feedback to Mariah

Back to the Fanfiction Archive