10 - 'Till Death Leaves Us Alone Forever?

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It was still raining.

Angel stood in front of the off-white apartment door, his coat dripping on the corridor floor, and knocked once more. It was mostly a gesture in futility, as he already knew that no one was home. He didn't exactly know how, but he could feel that the apartment beyond was dark and empty.

He brushed his wet hair back, sighing. Where could she be on a miserable night like this one? Even the Vampires stayed clear of the streets with the water pouring down the way it did, but this stubborn girl was out there somewhere, doing God knew what.

Didn't matter, he resolved. He had to find her and if she wasn't here, maybe she was at Willow and Tara's place. Or maybe her mother's. One of her favourite hangouts was also not far away from here. Maybe there ...

"Are you looking for me?" Her voice rang out from behind him.

There she was, standing in front of the closing elevator doors. Her long blonde hair hung down in wet strands, her white coat was soaked through and through. She carried an umbrella, but apparently the small thing had not done much good in the monsoon-like rain outside.

She was beautiful.

"I was about to scour the city for you, actually." Angel said.

She nodded and walked up to him until they stood just out of arm's reach, both of them wet, cold, miserable, and completely unaware of it and everything else except each other. Angel looked down at this small woman he loved so much and wondered how he could have been so stupid. How could he have allowed things to come this far? So close to losing her.

"Do ... do you want to come in and dry off?" Buffy asked finally. "I mean ... not like you can catch a cold or something, but you should really get out of those clothes and ... and I didn't mean that the way it just sounded, I ..."

He silenced her ramble by taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Yes, I would like to come in." He just said, giving her half a smile.

Buffy smiled back, a blush creeping up her cheeks as Angel's half-smile did its usual magic on her. She fumbled into her pockets for her keys and it seemed to take an eternity until she finally managed to open the door.

They both hung their dripping coats and Buffy walked toward her closet, taking out some dry clothes for herself. Then she hesitated and gave Angel a sheepish smile.

"I ... do you want ... I mean, I have some of your shirts here, if you want to ..." She shut herself up and handed him a large silk shirt. Black, of course.

"I was wondering where that one went." Angel said.

"As if you can tell. All your shirts are black." She shot back, then smiled again. "Sorry, I ... I took them along, because ... because ..."

"I know." Angel just said. "Me, too."

Buffy nodded and went into the bathroom to change. It was a bit strange to show modesty in front of Angel, seeing as he had seen and had his hands on pretty much every part of her body, yet undressing in front of him right now was not something she was able to do. Two minutes later she walked back out, dressed in dry jeans and shirt. Angel had disposed of his wet shirt and replaced it with the one she had given him.

"So ..." Buffy said, sitting down on the couch. "You wanted to see me?"

Angel nodded, sitting down beside her.

"I ... it occurred to me that I still owe you some answers, Buffy. I left a lot of things unsaid and ... I was wrong not to really talk things through with you."

Buffy nodded for him to go on.

"I'm not sure where I should start. I ... you might have noticed that this whole talking about my feelings thing is not what I do best."

"I noticed." Buffy said with a slight smile.

"Three nights ago ... when you approached me with the blood bond ... I have taken a look at the book you found it in, Buffy. It's woefully incomplete, I'm afraid. It tells about the bond, but not about it's consequences."

"And those are ...?" She prodded him.

Angel moved his hand through his wet hair again, looking for the words.

"The bond, it's ... no Vampire has bonded himself to a human in this way for centuries. The ritual was originally conceived to give a Vampire a daytime helper. A servant, a slave. The Vampire can use the bond to control the human's thoughts and actions.

"But the bond works too well, is too deep. Some Vampires bonded themselves to humans of greater willpower than themselves and winded up the slaves instead of the masters. And once the bond is established it can never be severed. It exists as long as both of them exist and when one dies, the other dies with him."

Angel looked up to meet her eyes.

"Do you understand, Buffy? The bond isn't a blessing, it's a curse. An eternal struggle for dominance, a chain that can never be broken."

"Only if the two who are bonded want to fight." Buffy said calmly. "You wouldn't try and use the bond to control me, Angel, I know that. Neither would I. I hope you know that, too."

Angel shook his head.

"I know that now, Buffy. But I don't know what will be in a hundred years. In a thousand years. Buffy, you don't know what it means to live so long. You are twenty-one. A person changes over so long a time, sometimes changes so much you wouldn't even recognize it as the same person.

"When I was your age, I was a good-for-nothing brat, the spoiled son of a rich man, my only pastimes were drinking and women. I was that man, yet today he might as well be a total stranger for all I still have in common with him."

"Angel, you never know how people will change over time. It's a risk, sure, but the same risk that every couple that enters into marriage takes. We can't base our future on the people we might become in a hundred years."

"But a married couple can divorce, Buffy." Angel said. "The bond, though, that can not be broken. I can't imagine a time when I would ever want to be apart from you, Buffy, but that doesn't mean this time could never come. And then we would be forced to spend eternity with someone we didn't want anymore."

Buffy regarded him for a long moment.

"So what you're telling me is that you don't want to do this because you might get second thoughts a thousand year from now. Because 1000-year-old-Angel might be sore with 280-year-old-Angel for bonding him with me, is that it?"

Angel almost flinched at the sarcastic tone of her voice, but forced himself to nod.

"Yes, bluntly spoken."

"Even if I believed a single word of that," Buffy said, "it doesn't cut, Angel. So maybe that bond thing could pose some problems for us a long, long time in the future. That doesn't explain why you didn't even want to consider the option of turning me into a Vampire."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

"And don't give me that loss of sunlight or children angle, Angel. None of that means a thing without you and you know that I think that way. You came here to be honest with me? Than start being honest, mister! Fuck the bond! Fuck being a Vampire! Why are you so afraid of me becoming an immortal like you? Why are you so afraid of being with me forever?"

Angel looked at her for a long moment, then sighed and shook his head.

"You have no idea what you are giving up, Buffy. No idea at all. It's not about sunlight. It's not about children. Not about being able to taste food or feeling a heartbeat under your skin. It's not about any of that, though I miss it every day of my life."

He looked up again.

"I wish I could really explain what I feel, Buffy, but it's so hard. It's a feeling that you are one step removed from the world. This body I live in is dead flesh and I am aware of that every second of my existence. Everything feels less real, like watching a TV movie instead of really taking part in it. You see so much in an eternal life, experience so much, but somewhere along the line it stops making an impact on you because you know that you are all you can ever be and that will not change."

"Didn't you just tell me five minutes ago that you are afraid we will change in a few hundred years?" She asked him.

"We do change, Buffy, in the way that we get tired of things and want to move on to others. Because no matter how detached we feel from the world, it's still the only thing around to experience. Our feelings change, maybe even our character, but only in the way that things cease to be important to us. Everything around you becomes meaningless and you no longer care."

His dark eyes locked with hers and she could see deep sadness inside them.

"I don't want to take this from you, Buffy. I don't want to make you less than you are. You are so beautiful, so very alive. Whenever you are close the very air around me seems to vibrate with energy, your glorious light. I've seen it lots of times, though. That light will fade when the centuries begin to pile up.

"I've seen Vampires who were really old, Vampires to whom I am but a child, and they are shadows, hollow beings. Thousands of years have burnt them out, leaving nothing but the outer shell. Everything they were has long ago been lost, because time might not touch our bodies, but it erodes everything else.

"I can feel it's beginnings even in myself. Before you came along I was well on my way toward it. Detachment. Aloofness. Most things around me had ceased to be of interest to me. I had my quest to help my people, a few friends, and that was it. Everything else was meaningless.

"When you stepped into my life you brought me alive again, but I know it will not last. Especially not when you want to me to extinguish that flame you are to me."

Buffy looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the dark abyss in those eyes. It was as if the man she loved so much was but a curtain, which had now been flung aside. Somewhere in those depths was the demon, the thing that still animated his dead body and would continue to do so for eternity, yet beyond that there was ... nothing. Only darkness.

She shook her head, dispelling the image. This was not the Angel she knew. It couldn't be.

"Is that all I am to you?" She asked him, bitterness seeping into her voice despite herself. "A fire to huddle close to until it burns out and you continue on your way?"

"You are a mortal, Buffy. I am not. We have known each other for three years now. A long time for you, but an eyeblink to me. Three years I wouldn't trade for anything in my life, because I've been happier than ever before, but still just an eyeblink. That is what it means to be an immortal, Buffy. Everything lasts but a few moments and the rest is dark night between the scattered few warm fires."

He took her hand in his and for the first time its cold feeling did not give her an erotic thrill. Rather it drove his point home. He was cold, dead. A being wrapped in dead flesh, one step removed from the world.

He was right in one aspect. She hadn't thought about what being an immortal might mean. The only thing on her mind had been to be with him forever. Now she thought about everything else it would mean. She would see her mother and her friends crumble into dust. Everything around her would vanish and be replaced by something new, something changed, over and over again.

She looked at Angel and the weight of nearly three centuries of existence rested solidly on her as he looked back.

It didn't make a difference, though.

"I love you, Angel." She told him. "And I feel the same way about you that you do about me. When you are close I feel more alive than ever before. To me YOU are the fire in the dark night, YOU are the man who saved my soul. I don't care what happened to those other Vampires, I don't care that they turned into vegetables after a few millennia. It won't be like that for us."

"You can't know that, Buffy!" Angel said sadly.

"No, I can't. But neither can you! I don't care that 1000-year-old-Angel might have some regrets about being with me forever, because 1001-year-old-Angel will be over it and happy again. We are so much more together than we are apart, Angel. Don't you see that?"

She could see a bloodred tear trail down his cheek and the words died in her throat. He looked up at her, his eyes rimmed red.

"Don't make me do this, Buffy!" He pleaded with her. "Don't make me kill this light you are to me!"

It tore her heart out to see him like this, so open and raw. In their three years together she had never seen so deep into his heart. Which was precisely why she continued.

"That light will be killed when time takes me away from you, Angel! When death separates us forever because I am mortal and you are not."

Angel didn't say anything after that. He slowly got to his feet, picked up his coat, and walked out of her apartment. Buffy didn't go after him. She had said everything she could think of and could only pray now.

"Please, make him see it!" She pleaded to whatever deity might be listening. "Just make him see it!"

11 - We Need a Miracle and We Need It Fast

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The Vampire's name was James Reuben. He had come to America via Ellis Island in 1921 and had stayed here ever since. In 1928 he had had a strange midnight encounter in a side alley of New York and had not aged a day since then. His Sire, though, was long dead, hunted down by a Vampire society that no longer tolerated those that fed on humans. Or changed them against their will.

All in all Reuben would have told them to just let the poor Vampire go, as he didn't mind much being a Vampire. No one had asked him, though. He didn't even know the name of his Sire. Sometimes he regretted that, having heard that the relationship between a Sire and a Childe was something truly special. He had not yet found someone he would have wanted as his own Childe.

Reuben liked being a Vampire. Sure, there were drawbacks, but he had learned to live with those. He sure as hell didn't mind that he had civil rights once more. During the Vampire legalization campaign he had been one of the most avid helpers in Cordelia Chase's pro-Vampire lobby, although he had never met the girl in person. He believed he had done his part to make the VLA a success and these days life as a Vampire was really good.

Most of the times anyway, Reuben corrected himself as he looked across the table at Geoffrey Jerome.

"This is not acceptable." Jerome said.

"It is fact." Reuben said, not for the first time. "The American public does not like us. Too many hardcore Christians out there, Puritans, they think we are perverting their teachings."

Jerome scoffed, something he never did in public. When he was talking to his followers or the public he always had a smile, never a frown, never seemed anything but the friendly neighborhood preacher. Amongst his inner circle, though, Jerome showed his true face.

Reuben had few illusions about Jerome. He was, at best, a fanatic. At worst, a madman. 300 years old if he was a day and convinced that he was God's own chosen. Reuben held some prejudice against the old ones, meaning those who had been made before the Restoration of Souls. Most of them were bloody lunatics.

Reuben knew what it was like to have a demon inside himself, who constantly whispered temptation into his ear. He couldn't image what if must have been like, though, to be controlled by that demon. To be, in fact, nothing but that demon, an animal that desired nothing but pain and destruction. He was convinced that none of the old ones had ever really gotten over that and that more than a few of them were certifiable raving madmen.

"We speak but the truth!" Jerome growled. "We are God's Chosen. And the truth shall set them free."

Case in point, Reuben thought.

"I fear we will need more than the truth on our side, Geoffrey!" One of Jerome's other lieutenants said. Reuben didn't particularly like Kurt Jugens, who was nothing but a slimy reptile in his mind. Still, Jugens was their public relations expert and he knew what he was talking about.

"Our flock has grown steadily," Jugens said, "yet the opposition has grown much faster. The way things are going we will soon have a worse reputation than Scientology."

"There are always those wanting to oppose the Righteous." Jerome said with a dark look in his eyes.

"One would think that eternal life on a silver platter would make even the most conservative man weak." Jugens said.

"This is not about eternal life!" Jerome reminded him quite forcefully. "This is about doing God's work! It is about making people see God's grace, so that they can stand proud and tall come the day."

Reuben and Jugens looked at each other across the table, sharing a moment of understanding. It was an open secret among the inner circle of the Church of the Holy Blood that Jerome was the only one among their number who believed what he was preaching. He had founded the church and the others had come aboard for various reasons.

Jugens was in it for the money, something he had never made a secret of. The church dealt with a product no sane man would not want, eternal life. Lots of money to be made there.

Reuben himself was, truth to be told, in for much the same reason, though money wasn't the only deciding factor. It was also about making other people aware of how great it was to be a Vampire. Reuben didn't give much of a shit about religion and felt that an eternal life in the here and now, no faith needed, was much preferable to very uncertain eternal bliss in the next world. That was the message he wanted to spread. Take eternal life while you can get it, people, it beats the alternative.

"Still, Geoffrey," Reuben entered the discussion once more, "we need something else. Something to make the people want to accept us."

A thought suddenly came to Jerome, as they sometimes did. One could see it in the dangerous glimmer that had found its way into his eyes. Reuben didn't particularly like that glimmer. Jerome was a very charismatic man and Reuben's ticket to lots of earthly riches, but that didn't change the fact that he was a dangerous man.

"The Romans fed the Christians to the lions," Jerome murmured to himself, "but then it took but a single generation for the Roman Empire to become Christian."

"What are you mumbling about, Geoffrey?" Jugens asked.

"The Romans all became Christians because the Emperor converted, Kurt!" Jerome said. "Convert the leaders, and the rabble will follow."

There was still more of that glimmer in his eyes now. It said that Jerome had latched onto something like a leech and would never let go again. Come to think of it, the idea didn't sound all that bad.

"The leaders." Reuben said. "Yes, that could work."

"The Vampirium?" Jugens asked, shaking his head. "Forget about it! Most of these old buzzards are still stuck in the middle ages."

The Vampirium, the council of elders that ruled the Vampire race, was certainly that. The youngest council member, as far as Reuben knew, was still a century older than Jerome, while the oldest ranged somewhere in the multi-millennial range.

Everybody had heard the rumors on how the Vampirium had come down like a hammer on one of its own members, the late Nikolai Grigori. Nobody was quite sure what Grigori had done to deserve the wrath of the Vampirium, yet the Order of Grigori had been smashed and the old Vampire himself was dust.

Reuben did not want to be the one to convince the Council of the righteousness of their way. Fortunately a look at Jerome's face told Reuben that neither of them was planning anything of the sort.

"The Vampirium Elders are has-beens." Jerome said with a satisfied grin. "They meet in their shadowy rooms and no one gives a damn what they do. No, Jugens. The Vampirium are not the leaders of the Vampire race. They haven't been for nearly a century."

Jerome suddenly rose and laughed.

"Yes, why didn't I see it sooner? The man who has saved us all, the man who has returned our souls to us. He brought us back on the path to redemption and now he will lead us into the light."

"Angelus?" Jugens asked skeptically. "You want to convince Angelus to speak for our Church? I am not sure that is a good idea."

Jerome turned on him with fire in his eyes.

"Hold your tongue! Angelus will speak for us. Has he not set us on this path? Like the Lord's own begotten son once gave his blood to bestow immortality on his children, so did Angelus give us the light of our souls. He will aid us in our work, for it is his work that we do."

Reuben listened to Jerome's words and did not share the other's optimism. True, with Angelus speaking for them the church's popularity was sure to rise, especially among Vampires. Among humans ... maybe. Since Vampire history had become a more or less public topic the name of Angelus had certainly become a household word in America, yet few mortals connected the legendary worker of the Restoration with a Vampire called Angel who worked as a federal marshal in Los Angeles.

Still, once Angel was on board his friends and allies would certainly follow. Maybe even Cordelia Chase herself, who had worked wonders with American public opinion during the VLA campaign. Yes, getting Angelus to speak for them was definitely the right thing to do.

Reuben just wondered whether it would truly be as easy as Jerome thought it would be. He rather doubted it, actually.

12 - The Price of Immortality

#

Buffy looked at the empty glass sitting in front of her on the bar counter and tried to remember how many empty glasses had stood in that same place tonight. Five? Six? She wasn't certain any longer. Math had never been her strong point and her current state of intoxication did nothing to improve her calculating skills.

She was drunk, she knew that. Hey, she had turned twenty-one not long ago, so she was legally and officially getting drunk. No one could keep her from getting drunk. She could get drunk all she wanted to whenever she wanted to and no one could tell her differently.

Three days since she and Angel had talked. Three days without a word from him. It was still raining outside. The weather people on the TV called it the worst rainstorm California had seen in years. Buffy didn't mind much right now. It fitted her mood to a T.

"Gimme another one!" She mumbled at the bartender.

"Are you sure you haven't had enough, girl?" He asked her.

"I'll tell you once I've had enough!" She slurred the words. "Now gimme another one!"

He sighed and refilled the glass once more, the brown liquid reflecting the overhead lights. Buffy stared into her drink - scotch, was it? - and wondered how many more she would have to drink until it was enough.

Enough for what? Enough to stop thinking about Angel? Enough to forget that he was keeping away from her because he was so fucking afraid of being with her? She snorted. Yeah, as if drinks would help with that. Still, as senseless distraction went ...

"Hello, Buffy!"

Buffy started and lost her balance, tumbling off the stool and to the floor with a string of curses escaping her mouth, ending up on her butt, looking more than a bit undignified.

Darla smiled at her from the neighboring bar stool.

"Nice one, but you have to work on the landing."

Buffy grumbled under her breath as she struggled back to her feet, the room not cooperating by spinning around her and continuously tilting the floor into a different direction. She finally managed to get back on her stool, holding on to the counter to steady herself, and glared at the Vampire sitting beside her.

"Wadda you want?"

Darla was dressed as inconspicuously as she had ever seen her. Blue jeans, black jacket, her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail, she looked not a day over eighteen. Darla was pretty much a celebrity these days, her Playboy issue from two years ago was scoring sterling prices on e-bay, and there were even rumors of a movie role. She never went out in public without a little camouflage.

"I originally planned to talk to you, dear, but I'm afraid you are not in any condition to do that right now. How many drinks did you have?"

Buffy shrugged. "Six or seven. Not sure."

Darla sighed. "Guess we have to do something about that first."

Without further warning her hands flashed out to cup Buffy's face and turn it toward her. Before she knew what was happening she was staring into Darla's electric blue eyes and felt something inside her head part like a curtain. Power poured into her and washed through her mind like a flood wave.

"Shit!" She cursed, struggling out of Darla's grip. She was about to lose her balance once more, but caught herself with an ease that didn't go together with six or seven glasses of scotch.

The room wasn't spinning anymore either.

"Feeling better now?" Darla asked.

Buffy shook her head to clear out the cobwebs and found that she was completely sober, the nice buzz and feeling of numbness gone without a trace.

"What did you do to me?" She asked Darla accusingly.

"Nothing much." The Vampire smiled at her. "Just slipped a little suggestion into your brain, kicking your Slayer healing into overdrive to metabolize the alcohol more quickly. I'm sure Giles could explain it better. Just think of it as instant soberness."

"You should bottle that up and sell it. Would do great." Buffy mumbled. "I spent the better part of the night getting drunk, Darla. Now I have to start from scratch. Scotch doesn't come cheap, you know?"

"It doesn't help much, either."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I got a drunk a lot at the beginning of the last century. Never lasted and didn't help."

Buffy looked down at the full glass in front of her.

"Why are you here, Darla?" She asked when the silence between them grew to uncomfortable.

"I want to talk to you."

"I think I can guess the topic." Buffy said resignedly.

"You want to invoke the Vinculum Dies Noctis Cruentos with Angel. The ritual of blood bonding. You want to be with him forever."

Buffy looked at the woman sitting beside her. They looked about the same age, yet more than four centuries separated them. Darla didn't seem like a hollow, burnt-out person, not at all.

"Do you think making me immortal will kill something inside me?" Buffy asked her.

"Yes." Darla said without hesitation. "And no."

"Thanks for the cryptic answer. Lorn couldn't have done better."

"What I mean, Buffy, is that becoming an immortal will change you. You will become more removed from the world, that is inevitable. This is a world of mortals, it always will be. You take yourself out of it and you lose something."

Darla looked somber and serious for another moment, then broke into a smile again.

"But it will not kill you, Buffy. Not the person you are."

"Angel appears to think so." Buffy mumbled.

"Angel." Darla said with humorous resignation in her voice. "In many ways he is the best of us, yet in others he is so incredibly stupid."

Buffy looked up sharply at these words.

"Stupid?"

"Buffy, I have known Angel his entire life. I know him better than he knows himself, which actually isn't all that hard. Angel is one of those people that don't have a clue about their own feelings."

Darla took the glass away from before Buffy's nose and drained it in a single gulp.

"I will tell you a story, dear." She said. "A story about a guy who wanted to see the world, get out from under his oppressive father, and make something of himself. He met a demon that wore the face of a young woman and she made him like herself."

"I think I know that story." Buffy said.

"Yes, but not quite the entire story." Darla said. "You see, I was there when Angel and Spike were cursed with their souls by the Gypsies. Or rather my demon was there. She was not very fond of her favored childe and grandchilde suddenly stinking of humanity, so she cast them out into the night and hoped that they would greet the dawn, so that she would never have to see them again."

"They didn't." Buffy said, unimpressed. "They went out to find the Necronomicon Nocturnum and gave all Vampires back their souls. As I said, I know the story."

"No, you don't!" Darla said, shaking her head.

Buffy looked at her, curious at last.

"Angel and Spike didn't go looking for the Necronomicon Nocturnum, Buffy. Not at first, anyway. It was but the consolation prize when they weren't able to fulfill Angel's true objective during those dark years."

Darla looked at her, her blue eyes without their magnetic pull this time.

"Angel didn't want to give all Vampires souls, Buffy. He wanted to make everyone human again."

Buffy nodded, not sure how this was such a great revelation. She knew that Angel had tried numerous times over the last century to find a way to turn Vampires back into humans.

"You don't understand, do you?" Darla said. Buffy shook her head and Darla sighed.

"The point, Buffy, is that Angel might have told you all about the drawbacks of immortality, how foolish you would be to give up your precious human life, and how he didn't want to take that from you. I am sure he believes that, too, but it isn't the real reason why he won't make you an immortal."

The barkeeper had once again refilled the glass and Darla emptied it again.

"Remember our first meeting, Buffy? On the rooftop of the Hyperion?"

Buffy did remember, of course. She had still been a prisoner then, only allowed outside in cuffs and under observation. Darla had taken her to the Hyperion's roof and told her a little bit about her jailer. Angel.

"That night I told you that Angel is the most human of us all. That is true, even more than you know. Not only is he the most human of us, Buffy, he is also the one who hates himself more than anyone else. He hates what he is, what he has become that night in Galway.

"Ever since regaining his soul Angel has looked for a way to make himself, and everyone else, human again. He wants to shed that dead body he is stuck in, get rid of the demon that lives in his heart. He would sacrifice everything if only he could make that happen."

Darla took Buffy's hand in her own cold one, looking at her intently.

"He loves you, Buffy, more than anything. But deep inside he doesn't feel worthy of it because he isn't human. The one thing that has kept him so strong and unrelenting this past century is the hope that one day he might succeed in becoming human once more."

Buffy suddenly understood.

"And by bonding himself to me that chance would be gone forever."

"Not just with the bond." Darla said. "It's not about the bond. The same would be true if you were to become one of us, Buffy. He doesn't want you to enter his world because he hopes that he can enter yours. When you become an immortal that door will be forever closed to him, because the one thing he wouldn't be able to give up in return for mortality is you."

Buffy realized that Darla was telling her the truth. She should have seen it herself. How often had she seen envy in Angel's eyes when she was standing in front of their bedroom window, letting the morning sun spill over her flesh, while he had to stay back in the shadows. How often had sadness crept into his face when she relished in the taste of an ice-cream cone or chocolate.

She had told him that the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world didn't mean shit to her and that she wanted to throw it away.

"Oh God!" She whispered.

"Angel has looked for a way to become human again for over a hundred years now." Darla said sadly. "Any other man would have given up long ago. He hasn't. Maybe he doesn't actively look anymore, maybe he even thinks that he has given up, but in his heart he still hopes."

"I've asked him to give up his dream for me." Buffy said, more to herself than Darla.

"And he will." Darla said. "He loves you enough for that. In time he will do what you ask of him, I'm sure of that. The question is just whether you think that your love is worth more than his dream."

It was a cruel question, but Buffy understood why Darla had to ask it.

"Do you think it is?" She asked the Vampire in a small voice.

"I can't answer that question, Buffy. Only you and Angel can do that. I just wanted to make sure that you both know what it will cost you, both of you. No matter what that stupid church may say, Buffy, eternal life doesn't come for free. Not nearly."

With that Darla placed a few bills on the counter and rose to leave. Buffy touched her arm as she passed, causing their eyes to meet once more.

"Thank you, Darla." Buffy said.

"My pleasure."

"Did you ... did you ever think about spending eternity with Giles?" She asked.

Darla smiled. "No. He is a good man, Buffy. I'm very fond of him. But not enough for eternity, I'm afraid."

Buffy nodded and Darla left, leaving the Slayer to ponder a question she wasn't sure there was a good answer for.

13 - Who Wants to be a Saint?

#

Angel leaned back in his chair and regarded the man sitting on the other side of his desk. The room was darkened, as it was day outside, the heavy shutters dipping the room into a twilight neither man much minded. They could both see each other very well.

Geoffrey Jerome was dressed in a finely tailored black suit, a blood red shirt, and a black tie. Along with the easy smile he carried on his youthful face it gave him an air of dangerous glamour, the saint from hell. Angel was not surprised that this man had so easily captured so many people in his thrall. He positively oozed charisma.

Jerome was equally busy assessing the man he was facing. Angelus had become a legend but a few decades after his making. A sadist of insatiable appetite, they said. A true master of pain and torture. Master Heinrich Nest had once said of him that he had never met a more vicious or cruel creature in all his days on earth, which was a great compliment from a demon over a thousand years old.

Angelus had indeed been a legend, but the Restoration had elevated him even more. Not a single Vampire on Earth did not know the name of Angelus. Some praised him for what he did, some cursed him, but in the end it didn't really make a difference. Angelus had made himself the central figure of his race and the Vampirium Elders could fool no one but themselves into thinking they still ran their own house.

The measuring gazes between the two men went on for some time, neither of them moving or even breathing. To an onlooker it might have appeared that they were but statues, part of a painting so real it took one's breath away, yet still a motionless painting.

Angel was not sure why Jerome has asked a private conversation between them. Truth to tell the entire topic of the Church of the Holy Blood and the danger it represented to the coexistence between Vampires and humans had retreated quite far from Angel's mind. Thoughts of immortality, love, and the virtues of mortal existence had kept him awake these last few days.

"Thank you for sparing the time to see me, Angelus." Jerome said, his smooth voice breaking the silence around them. "I am sure a man of your stature has many things to keep him busy."

"I always look forward to meeting the new players in town." Angel said courtly. "You have turned yourself into a player in quite a short time, Jerome."

"You are too kind. I do but meager work compared to everything you have done for our kind."

Angel nodded, the exchange of empty compliments an easy exercise after centuries of practice. Jerome kept his face carefully guarded, not a single emotion penetrating past his pale countenance. Angel knew they were of almost equal age, Jerome slightly older, and personal power. The air between them almost crackled.

"I do not want to take more of your time than I must," Jerome said, "so I will come to the point of my visit."

"Please do so." Angel gestured.

"Angelus, I am glad to hear my humble attempts at bringing the light of God to those who walk at night have not escaped your attention. Maybe you are also aware that we are encountering some very stiff opposition."

"You should not be surprised." Angel said. "America is, at heart, a Puritan country. Is it a wonder that they oppose what they regard as blatant rewriting of their own history?"

"It is not a rewriting." Jerome said. For a moment Angel saw a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am merely trying to show them a new perspective of our good Lord's plans for his children. And I do not force anyone to subscribe to my way of thinking, Angelus. This is, after all, the land of the free, is it not? The practice of free religion included, I believe."

"That is certainly the case." Angel said. "Yet it is also the land where every man may freely voice his opinion. Those that do not like what they see in your church have certainly made use of that, as is their right."

Another glimmer in Jerome's eyes. Angel kept his own face immobile, though the depth of emotions he could glimpse behind the other man's eyes was a disturbing sight. Jerome didn't give a damn about the right of free religion of opinion.

"Also," Angel continued, "are you not worried that many people who flock to your church are more interested in the gift of eternal life rather than the message you want them to hear?"

Like one particular person he knew who had taken a - hopefully passing - interest in the church's offer of immortality.

"I would be a fool if I were not aware of that." And I am no one's fool, his eyes told Angel without words. "Yet I believe that receiving our Lord's gift of eternal life will open their eyes quite thoroughly in time. And time is something we have plenty of, is that not the case?"

Yes, Angel thought. They had all the time in the world. Buffy did not, though. She would be gone in a few decades unless he ... what was he thinking? He couldn't do it. Could he?

He realized he was getting distracted and focused back on Jerome.

"The point is," Jerome said, "that my church is in trouble, Angelus. While my flock is growing every day, the opposition is growing much faster. I fear for the future of my church with the way things are going."

Angel once again found his thoughts straying. The future. It stretched out ahead of him without break, no end in sight. Most of it would be without her. Damn, why was all this occupying him now?

"Over ninety years ago," Jerome continued, "you saved us, Angelus. We were lost in the night and you brought us back. Once again we carry our Lord's greatest gift inside of us, our humanity, but we have yet to regain His grace.

"We need to redeem ourselves in His eyes. Shed the sin of the darkness that clung to us for so long. The time will come when we will once again walk in the light of day, Angelus, and will be able to look at his face and his symbol without having to avert our eyes."

"And you believe your church is the way to accomplish this?" Angel asked, somehow managing to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

"A first step." Jerome said, spreading his hands in a gesture of humility. "I do not profess to know all the steps on the way to salvation for our people, Angelus. That is why I have come to you."

Angel looked at him, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. Jerome was a dangerous man. If he'd had any doubts about that before there were gone now. Jerome believed every word he preached, Doyle had said. Angel believed him now. This man truly considered himself God's own chosen.

And now he wanted Angel's help, it seemed.

"Explain, please!" Angel said, his voice never sounding anything but courteous.

Jerome smiled. "No need for false modesty, Angelus. It is a fact that you are the Vampire all other Vampires look upon as their leader, their role-model. You are our salvation, the man who restored our souls."

Angel clearly remembered more than a few Vampires who had considered him anything but a role-model or their salvation. Grigori had tried to use him to reverse the Restoration. More than one Vampire had cursed him for the return of their conscience. If he were to die today there would be quite a few parties thrown to celebrate that event to the fullest.

"If you were to speak for our church, Angelus," Jerome continued, "the path to true salvation would be open for us all. You and I, Angelus, we can lead our people into the light."

There it was, Angel thought. Jerome looked at him with fire blazing in his eyes and a part of Angel was actually tempted. He knew that many a Vampire would follow wherever he led. Jerome promised, if nothing else, a power the likes of which Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, would not have hesitated to grasp.

He was not Angelus, though.

"Your offer is tempting, Jerome." Angel said, which was the truth. "Yet I am worried about the implications of your church."

"Such as?" Jerome asked, a bit taken aback by his less than enthusiastic response, but still smiling and charismatic.

"A rapid increase in the Vampire population for example. The presence of Vampires has already changed society very rapidly, a lot of people still hate us, yet so far we barely classify as a minority. There are so few of us. If that were to change I fear it would lead to lots of unrest, both of social and also economic nature."

Jerome waved his concern away. "Despite what you may hear on the streets, Angelus, I do not plan to have my church be a recluse for everyone looking for eternity. Everyone who petitions to us will be carefully evaluated. Our numbers will be brought up but slowly. Only those worthy of God's gift will drink eternity from our veins."

He shrugged. "Humans easily adapt to new circumstances. That is one thing they might actually do better than we. If we make our way a careful and gradual one, there will be no problems we can not handle."

He was probably right, Angel thought. If his church was able to overcome this initial barrier of hatred and resentment it would probably flourish. And a gradual increase of the Vampire population would probably be something American society could survive, though not without changing in the process.

For all his mania, Jerome had thoughts things through, it seemed.

"Will you speak for us, Angelus? Will you once more lead your people into the light?"

The largest part of him wanted to throw Jerome out of his office. Wanted to tell him exactly what he thought of all this religious nonsense and Jerome's mania. The man obviously thought very highly of the saint he imagined Angel to be. It would probably be fun to see his illusions shatter.

Angel didn't give in to this impulse. There was no telling what Jerome might do if he was rebutted in this way. He might strike out like a wounded animal and with the power base he had already built himself that could result in a lot of carnage.

There was no legal way to dismantle the Church of the Holy Blood. With Jerome offering him leadership and sainthood, though, there might just be another way.

"Very well, Jerome." He said, watching his opposite's face start to beam with joy. "You make a convincing argument. If you organize the audience, I will speak to them."

Jerome was barely able to suppress his happiness. He jumped out of his chair and shook Angel's hand enthusiastically.

"You will not regret this, Angelus." He beamed. "You will see, together we will save our race. We will regain God's grace and make paradise here on Earth."

Angel nodded in all the right places until Jerome finally left. Alone at last he dropped back into his chair.

"Angel, old boy!" He muttered to himself. "I just hope you didn't make a big mistake here."

With any kind of divine inspiration conspicuous by its absence Angel's thoughts inevitably returned to the other large problem he had on his mind.

Buffy.

Go to Part 14