Disclaimer: AtS and BtVS the property of Mutant Enemy
Pairing: B/A, vague, vague mention of C/A and C/C (but don't worry, I swear it'll be okay *g*)
Summary: that isn't the way it happened / It has yet to happen
Rating: R
Timeline: everything up to AtS S4, but primarily IWRY, S1, taking place just after Angel asks to made a vampire again.
Author's Notes: Unoriginal idea, but hey, I actually had an idea for a B/A fic that wouldn't take forever. A bit stream-of-conscious, so it's a tad hard to follow. Grammar "mistakes" of capitalization and broken lines are actually intended.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated.

This is what he remembers.

He remembers it like he forgets the next…

Wait, what time is this?

He knows it. It is the fall, but it does not feel like it; California does not take too kindly to seasons.

He is…

And this he forgets, like he has been holding it in for far too long, a painful burning seizes in his lungs, he can't let it out, let it out, he has to let it…

out.

Breath in.

He is nearly brought to his knees, the need overwhelming everything. In out in out. He's breathing.

This was not happening…

he does not understand why that thought crosses his mind. It is gone before he worries.

And he realizes that only a moment has passed since he asked his question. Only a few years. There is no difference. He shudders, trying to draw in the air, trying to fill lungs that have been empty for several years (just a second ago).

"Does that satisfy your request, human?"

He asks a question (before, he asked it, and this is his second time, the outcome was, is, will always be the same) and he waits to go back.

He waits for time to swallow itself. For just

one day.

So he has already asked the question.

Take it back

for just one day.

Now he waits.

That's the deal. He remembers; he won't go into the sewer and he won't go into the sunlight and kiss her…that's the deal…

He remembers standing outside in the dark, in the rain, he doesn't breathe (a vampire has no need), and watches (on the outside looking in) his son and his…

His Cordelia.

Cordelia?

The memories are wrong.

He went to, goes to, will go to Buffy, and tell her that the day will (it already did) rewind and she won't remember (she'll forget and it'll be better like that) and it'll be better…he can't let her die.

He will go to her after she comes back from the dead…

back from the dead

He came back from the dead and that's why he's here.

"It's tomorrow that I'm worried about," she ghost whispers, she never says, she will say as they sit under the tree (in the dark, he can't be in the sun, he does not, will not breathe, and in any time, at any moment, the one thing he desires most is to kiss her, just kiss her, he can't ever kiss her again).

Now he works around in his mouth (clean, cool, he tastes nothing but the faint tinge of the toothpaste he used this morning, this is important) the words, "I don't understand. I…I remember."

She walks over (the ghost-Her did not like being dead, but then, it's never been a picnic) and says in her commanding, clear voice, "We have been informed by the Powers that your request must be taken back. So…the deal is done. You shall remember everything that happened after you asked for the day to swallow itself…only as a human. Today has happened and shall not repeat again for a second time."

"No," he gasps, it's like he forgot to breathe for too long and is finally catching up. "I can't let Buffy…"

Willow enters a place he does not remember (it's the hotel, he lives there now, he lived there once) and he knows instantly

it's Buffy.

She's in his apartment now, he didn't tell her, he never tells her, what he tells her is that she'll forget.

She promises she won't. She will have tears in her eyes and his heart breaks, his heart broke, it will break. A small shatter, a forgotten pain, he remembers far worse.

The rage is sudden and unyielding. His hands wrap around delicate Oracle throat, his grip is not strong, and he screams at her, "What did you do?"

The male does not make any move other than a snobbish snort, "Exactly as you asked."

"It would be kind to let go of me," the female replies, not struggling out a single syllable. "Although it has yet to be and has already been, I do not want to die again by a lesser being."

"Those…my memories…are real?"

This time he kills the Mohra demon and she leaves, a hesitant look as she promises to forget, but he knows he's doing the right thing…

anything to keep her alive.

He tries to forgive the young man (Connor, Stephen, either one, both are no closer to him, both eagerly condemn him) as he is sent off to a watery grave.

The child is clutched tightly to his chest and he does not let any perfect, true moment slip away in fear of losing the only thing he can put his faith in; he's lost so much and is too scared of what comes next…

and then he pushes the pillow harder on Wesley's face, the white-hot burn of rage better than the cold.

cold

He wakes up (woke up, everything's repeating, again, again, here he wakes up one more time) and is spared for a reason. And he knows exactly the reason.

But that doesn't (didn't) happen, he is still human and breathing, always breathing in out in out, he can feel his heart pumping wildly.

They took the time away from him and left him the memories.

He is not grateful.

He shoves the Oracle away from him, casts his eyes away, hoping that all he has seen, all he remembers, all he feels (the love, lust, rage, he doesn't understand…and it's so cold and why doesn't anyone realize he's dying inside? Oh yes, he's already dead.)…that it'll somehow will fade away. He won't remember.

"I'll never forget," she cries in a memory of a time that will not be and he wishes that it was true; when it comes, when the day begins again, she'll realize what happened and maybe, maybe this can work…he made a mistake, he can't do this, he can't

let her die.

And then he sees Willow and he knows

that isn't the way it happened.

It has yet to happen.

"He understands," the male says, a scowl briefly crossing his face.

"Time has passed…and I'm still here," he says in wonder and in fain horror. The things he did. Like a dream of someone else's, it does not register completely as he gathers everything together, yet it's

him; he wants it to be real between her (she dyed her hair and cut it, gained visions and lost a bit of her humanity along the way, that is how he remembers her) and himself.

But she is not Buffy. It's all…wrong. A time that will not be and has already been, he realizes (realized, in another time that has been and cannot be) that he loves Cordelia (it's Buffy), but then he sees her with his son ("were we in love?" the question asks and he desires, right now, to shout no and deny anything that will come to pass).

"Had the Powers not intervened, the world would be in ruin, sadly," the female Oracle replies without a bit of melancholy in her voice. She never seems to care; when she dies, she'll only mildly complain and finish her duties. "Your Buffy shall die in the End of Days, that much is certain."

He moves to protest, but the argument's been said already. She continues on, as though answering his pleas to become a vampire again. If only he can protect her, at the very least.

He won't be there when she dies. And he sees Willow and she doesn't have to say anything.

"It's…"

because he knew that already.

"The souled vampire was taken, readied as a sacrifice for the demonic side," she continues, a faint hint of irritation as she speaks.

This he does not remember so he asks in confusion, "But I was in L.A."

"Not you," the male snits, a bit of a dark smile crossing his face, "The other one. The Slayer's-"

"He needs not know any timeline beyond his own experience, Brother," she cuts in, a hand raised to silence him. "Angel, lower being, this you must understand: you have not proven yourself worthy of the forces involved in granting time to repeat itself. Were it not for the fate of the world, you would have left to say your goodbyes as the day turned back. Yet we lost too much on our side. First you, then Wesley-"

"Buffy's Watcher?" he asks, as two images came to him. Doyle killing himself (no, it should have been him, why wasn't it him?) and he didn't stop him in time and then…

Wesley, so many times he appears yet he doesn't know him

yet.

"He will arrive in a few weeks and since we can't erase the years that have yet to be, you must take care to bring him into your group. Perhaps this time, he shall get to meet Doyle."

"But how can I…?"

He is human, weak, frail (his lungs still burn as though aching for something besides the air), and he cannot do anything save breathe and try not to curl onto the floor, huddling all the broken images lying in his mind until he makes some sense of the whole picture.

"On your own time," the male explains in a tone both omnipotent and arrogant. "You can find your way back and destroy the day yet again to become a vampire. I would not be surprised if that was the case."

"Silence brother, we have little time left and much to discuss." She fixes a hand that is both cold like death and warm like spring on his cheek. He thinks his heart echoes distantly in her body, yet he dares not a single word on the topic. "Hear this now, for this is the Powers speaking directly as best as possible. What will come is not what any expected. The imbalance caused by the shift to darkness left time itself ready and willing for a paradox of enormous power. And with that power, came these years returned, set to start again. Once you leave here, it will be as though everything you remember, what has yet to be, is a mere dream. It is not so. That you must hold onto…"

The faces wash upon him. Family and enemies; son and lovers; friends that survived and those that didn't, every time he laughed, every time he gave up, it all was there and he does not

want this responsibility.

"A burden, yes?" she asks, locking a cool glance into his eyes.

"I don't deserve this." As neither reward nor punishment.

"There is a way to stop that device without losing your friend. He must keep the visions for your female friend proved lacking. The visions that came to her were mutilated from the truth and merely true lies."

"But I can't…I can't do anything."

"There were remnants left," the male cut in, his hand reaching out to touch his sister's shoulder, a gesture of impatience.

Time is wasting.

Time was wasted and he'll not make the same mistakes again.

"Of power, Angel. There is still some waiting to be taken," she implores, tapping his cheek lightly; it would be affectionate if not coming from her. "Do not ask for us again. We shall not appear to a mortal ever again, that is our one sacrifice. Our lives…at least I am prepared this time."

"I'm not," her brother adds with a vague frown of displeasure.

"How can I not…" he trails off, the prophecy, it's too early, everything is wrong (everything that will happen will be a nightmare), "I don't understand."

He understands what it feels like to lose his son. And he has lost him again, one more time, now he's never born. Not a vampire with a soul anymore…would Wolfram and Hart unleash Darla?

Another recovering vampire turned human. They could start a recovery program. He'd laugh but he's still trying to keep the walls from spinning.

It isn't working.

"Don't you feel the cold?" he never asks and he doesn't give a fuck about the answer anymore.

"I'm not ready," he finally says and the blank truth of the words is frightening, but it's true

he's not ready for what comes next.

"Return to the Slayer and prepare," she advises, turning away as he feels himself slowly being pulled back, it is nothing like the other times, it is slow and gentle, like a dream fading away. "You must remember, lest you forget and the cycle begins anew."

*

This is what he does.

He gets up after falling out of the room and dusts himself off, realizing his request was denied. Something lurks in his mind, a troubling dream perhaps, but he does not linger on it for long.

He tells Buffy what he tried to do and she is angry but he kisses her and he wonders why he's so foolish to think this cannot last.

Something that never happens. In another time, she tells him that's she back (she never left) and that it's over. It cannot be. It must be. For their own sakes. He agrees for he's promised himself that he'll forget. It's the only way to survive.

He ignores this and proceeds to the bed where every delight of the carnal flesh is explored (and repeated, it repeats, again, again) and he realizes he could spend a thousand days like this and it would not be enough.

Later, while he idly caresses her sleeping form sprawled somewhat on top of him in all its glorious naked form, it returns and he sits up in a bolt, tumbling her out of his arms.

he

has no time

left

So this is what he remembers. It happens again and again, new memories, old memories, things he wishes will never happen, and things he realizes he will do again anyway.

He leaves twice from the Oracles and one time he tells her that he will reverse time and go back, fixing a mistake. The next one, he forgets and is spared because he must fix all the mistakes.

Sunrise shall come and the beams of light shall be warm and he will live.

His next breath is caught in his throat and he lies back without a word as Buffy pulls him down; her unintentionally strong grasp doesn't even leave a bruise. She mumbles half sleepy questions of where he's going and he doesn't dare an answer. What comes next is too horrible for words.

Lying by her side, he nuzzles against her, brushing her naked breast with his head, memorizing this new moment that hasn't already happened. He loves her, loves that she brushes the temple of his forehead lightly with her fingertips and asks if he had a bad dream. She kisses him softly, lips warm and gentle and this is all he has ever wanted.

(it all falls apart; he leaves her under the tree before the sun rises; she does not kiss him or move to touch him when she comes back, back from the dead, she died and he knew it, and he wasn't there. He isn't there for her.)

He breathes in her scent, the sweet fragrance of her skin still lingering with the hint of chocolate just underneath. He's not supposed to be here.

Till tomorrow or another time.

He has all the time in the world. All the time he's ever wanted but they didn't grant him his request this time and left him with a gaping hole, a lost time he loathes yet embraces too, he knows all that will be…

yet everything happens again and doesn't repeat

He doesn't know what comes next.

Send feedback to Regala Electra

Back to the Fanfiction Archive