Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: While I have taken the liberty of adding a few characters of my own creation, all of the original BtVS characters and their world belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The WB. The lyrics for "Every You Every Me" belong to Placebo. All are used without permission (I'll return them all unharmed) and no copyright infringement is intended (like most that post, I'm broke, so please don't sue).
Spoilers: All 3 seasons of BtVS, BtVS season 4/Angel season 1 implied.
Summary: Well, it's now early into the year 2048 and Aishling Rosenberg is still hard at work creating a formal archive out of a vast collection of letters, stories, research notes, etc. that her grandmother, Willow, left behind when she died. We're currently revisiting events that took place in Sunnydale in August of 1999...
Distribution: My site and few others. If I haven't already given you permission to post it, please ask first. :)
Feedback: Is there an author out there who doesn't enjoy getting feedback?
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By the time Angel made it to Giles' apartment it was close to midnight. He had no worries that the Watcher might be asleep. The man kept "Slayer's Hours" which was equivalent to keeping "Vampire's Hours". Besides, Angel made sure he passed by one of the windows and he'd seen Giles moving about inside.
Angel paused for a moment when he reached the front door. He had more than a few reservations about once again coming to Giles for help. They had not really parted on the best of terms. Granted, there had been no outward displays of hostility. It was more an underlying animosity on the Watcher's part.
Of course Angel could readily appreciate all of the reasons Giles had for feeling the way he did. They had never discussed the events that occurred during the time when Angel had been conscience-free again and hellbent on exacting some sort of twisted revenge for the crimes the Scooby Gang had committed against him. And what heinous crimes they were! They had dared to accept him, to treat him as if he were human! They had been foolish enough to trust him, and in Buffy's case, to even love him. Those were the kinds of things a demon didn't just forgive and forget. Those were errors in judgement which led to mayhem and murder.
Ah, what havoc he had wreaked. Never one to do things in a small way, the scope of Angel's devilish schemes continually broadened until he wasn't satisfied with merely persecuting the Slayer and her friends. No, as luck would have it Acathla was unearthed and Angel was given the wherewithal to make all of mankind pay for their supposed crimes.
And murder? He did that too! Angel took to it with an abandon born from living for over a century without feeding as a vampire is meant to feed. He killed many. Some were consumed to slake his thirst, others he turned into minions. Oh yes, the nameless, faceless many. Then there were those he killed for another purpose all together. These were the ones Angel killed for pleasure and for pain; his pleasure and Buffy's pain.
Angel had found some of his greatest joy in killing Jenny Calender. Now he struggled daily with the memory of that atrocious act. But it wasn't just remorse that plagued him. No, it more than just feeling guilty. What he wrestled with most when he reflected on Jenny's death was a very deep seated sense of pride. His plan had been flawlessly executed, the way in which he had presented her body had been truly artistic. The vampire's ego puffed even now.
Even after all the agonizing months that he'd been back on earth, in spite of all the centuries of torment he had endured in Hell, Angel still couldn't find the strength to completely subjugate his dark side. More frightening was the knowledge that at times he would like nothing more than to embrace it.
Angel realized that Giles somehow understood all this. Maybe it was the ex-librarians's own travels down some of the darker paths he'd chosen in his youth that afforded Giles his particular insight? Maybe it was all of his time as a Watcher? Whichever the case, he silently acknowledged that Angel was doing his best to battle his inner turmoil and was making every effort to do good. The proof of that was found in Giles' actions last Christmas when Angel was beset upon by The First. The distraught vampire, fearing not only for his own sanity, but for Buffy's life, had sought the Watcher's aide and Giles had given it, almost without question and, all things considered, with very little reluctance.
Later, with the discovery of Sunnydale's mayor's plans for Ascension, a situation which was compounded by the second slayer's fall from grace and subsequent defection to the mayor's camp, Giles had once again accepted Angel's assistance and welcomed him back into the fold. But he also knew of Angel's decision to leave Sunnydale once everything was resolved and he joyfully embraced that pronouncement, even if he kept his elation hidden for Buffy's sake.
Of course in Giles' eyes, Angel would always be an unfit suitor for his Slayer and what little good the soul-having demon managed to accomplish prior to his departure was pretty much negated by the fallout that followed Faith's attempt at ending his life. For despite the fact that a Slayer's blood had been the only cure for the poison that had been introduced into Angel's body, Giles was still none too pleased with the fact that the vampire had fed off of Buffy.
And now, Angel was going to have to confess to his liaison with Willow. He shuddered to think just what the reserved ex-librarian's reaction would be when he learned of their encounter, and more importantly when he was told about the bond and Willow's possible new status as Angel's consort. Giles was going to go ballistic. Well, he'd certainly be as irrate as it was in his nature to be, and Angel didn't relish the thought of feeling his wrath. Giles had a way of making himself very paternal in these sorts of situations, in spite of the fact that Angel was his senior by more than a two centuries. Angel always came away from one of Giles' lectures feeling like he'd just been chastised by his own father, and that didn't sit well with the vampire for more reasons than he cared to dwell on.
Still, it was imperative that Giles understood that what had happened between the vampire and the witch was somehow beyond their control. Angel wanted Willow to be in no way held accountable for their actions. He would shoulder all the responsibility for what had taken place. After all, at that stage in his life, Angel ought to have been able to keep it in his pants, as the current phrase went. And to make matters worse, not only had they had sex, but he had bitten her, as well, and consumed some of her blood and she had done the same to him.
All of these thoughts and feelings just kept going through Angel's mind, over and over again. They'd been churning about for hours, for days even. Once the initial shock of his first few encounters with Willow wore off and after they'd dealt with Xander, if his mind wasn't occupied with the erotic memories of his time with Willow or he wasn't pondering what was in store for both of them, Angel's thoughts had turned toward just what he was going to say to Giles.
How could he possibly explain to Giles what a consort's role was in a vampire's life when he himself wasn't very knowledgeable on the subject? The most important thing was to make sure that Giles knew Willow was (or would be) more than just Angel's paramour. But at the same time, Angel had no real idea what Willow's role would be in the years to come. God, in a past life she had been his mother! Could things get any more convoluted?
Steeling himself for a possibly hostile confrontation, Angel rapped on the door. His knock was answered quickly, as though Giles' had been expecting a visitor at that late hour.
"And Angel makes three," Giles mumbled wearily.
"You knew I'd come?"
"Yes. Please, come in."
With those simply spoken words, Angel felt the magically barrier which barred his entry fall away. Rather than being put off by the knowledge that Giles had recast the spell which prevented Angel from entering his home, the vampire was pleased. It was nice to know that Giles was no fool and that Buffy, Willow and the others would be safe in their mentors home, safe even from him, especially since he would soon be once again far from their watchful eyes, and God only knew what Angel's future would bring.
"Thank you." Angel stepped around Giles and moved into the apartment.
Giles had held a finger to his lips as Angel passed him and then motioned toward the sofa as they walked into the livingroom spaces. Angel then saw the reason for Giles' silent plea for the use of hushed voices.
Xander was stretched-out on the couch, sound asleep. The boy looked so comfortable, so peaceful. Angel stood there, silently staring at the sleeping boy. He certainly hadn't meant to become preoccupied with studying Xander while he slept, especially in the presence of another person, but Angel couldn't seem to pull himself away. The thoughts creeping into his mind were... well... disturbing?
Xander really was a handsome man, his precious youth so clearly unguarded as he slept. God how Angel envied him that. For the time being the boy looked for the entire world to be just what he was, the vampire's junior. But in the coming years that would change. All too quickly, their roles would appear to be reversed, when in fact Angel would always be centuries old than Xander was. The illusion of perpetual youth that was part and parcel of his being a vampire would see to that. Angel had been turned when he was in his mid-twenties and would visibly remain forever young, while Xander would grow-old and die. Still, the dark-haired young man was nice to look at now, and Angel felt certain that he would age gracefully.
Xander was lean in spite of his undying love for junk food. Whatever he had done over the summer while away from Sunnydale, had left him toned, more muscular than Angel had ever seen him before. It wasn't hard for Angel to imagine just how nice all that smooth warm flesh would feel under his hands, how the muscles would contract and relax as he massaged the strong, broad shoulders, caressed the firm, flat belly...
Damn, but Angel had to stop looking at the boy, to curtail the trip on the train of thought he was about to embark upon. Gee, thanks, Willow, Angel thought wryly. Sexually she'd set Angel free. Now his libido seemed to have gone into hyper-drive. He was lusting after Xander, for Christ's sake!
The sound of Giles clearing his throat pulled Angel's eyes away from the sleeping youth, but not before he noticed that Xander's previously injured hand appeared to be completely healed. He shot the Watcher with a questioning look.
Giles' reply came in the form of a quirked eyebrow and what Angel was amazed to have to call a snide smirk. The Watcher then turned away and headed toward the kitchen. He pointed to the tall chairs set in front of the pass-thru, motioning for Angel to take a seat in one of them. The vampire did as he was directed to do, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the back of the chair before sitting down.
"I've made tea. Care to join me?" The question was not a simple courtesy. There was an unmistakable hint of asperity in Giles' voice. It took some effort for Angel to keep any sort of rough edge out of his voice.
"That would be nice, thank you."
Giles eyed him skeptically for a moment, but could find no trace of hostility in Angel's features.
"Very well," he said as he set out a second cup and saucer.
Once the tea was properly steeped, Giles filled both cups and put one down in front of the vampire. He watched, somewhat fascinated, as Angel took a sip of tea.
"Mmm, this is good," Angel offered as he set down his cup. "I'd venture to say it's the best cup o' tea I've had on this side of the pond."
A genuine smile crept across the Watcher's face. Perhaps it was because of Angel's carefully chosen words, his deliberately adopted pattern of speech which for once sounded nothing like that of the California youths the vampire had aligned himself with. Angel's last sentence intentionally revealed more about his age and the fact that he had lived the majority of his unnaturally long life in Europe than anything he'd ever shown Giles before. And he'd had the good sense to recognize a fine tea when he tasted it. It was some of Giles' best, imported from England, one of the few treats he allowed himself on a regular basis.
"It could use a little sugar," Angel added. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"A typical bloody Irishman," Giles grumbled, knowing he'd been bated, but opting to accept Angel's attempt at levity.
"Yet another one of my many flaws."
"Quite."
Both men fell silent for a few minutes, but it was a relatively amicable silence. Each sipped his tea, pondering just what they were going to say next. Strangely enough, each of them was, unbeknownst to the other, reluctant to say anything that might jeopardize the delicate balance they had somehow managed to achieve over the last few minutes.
Giles was leaning down over the kitchen counter that was located under the pass-thru, staring out at some indeterminate point on the far side of the livingroom. He had one elbow resting on the shiny, white tile as he used the hand on that same arm to prop his head up. Absentmindedly, he reached out toward the plate cookies he had left there earlier. As he munched on his treat, Giles was startled out of his revery by the sudden appearance of one of Angel's large hands, which had darted out and snatched a cookie off the plate. His eyes followed the hand as it made its way to the vampire's mouth and deposited the entire cookie there.
The slack-jawed look on the Watcher's face made Angel wonder if he should be amused or embarrassed.
"What?" Angel asked, mumbling around his mouthful of cookie, spilling some crumbs in the process. The look of consternation on Angel's face made Giles stand-up straight. He then looked a bit embarrassed himself.
"W-what?" Giles stammered, trying to recollect his thoughts. "Oh, oh it's nothing really. It's just that--"
"We can eat, you know."
"Why, yes. I know that. It's just that you've never before done so in my presence."
"Well, the cookies looked good."
"Right. Right! They are good. Quite good, aren't they?"
Angel grabbed another cookie from the plate and nodded to the affirmative as he munched on it.
"Willow made them," Giles added, realizing that to do so would provide them with an easy transition into the conversation Angel had come there to have.
"Willow," Angel sighed before taking a sip of his tea and washing down the last of the cookie he'd consumed.
He's just full of surprises tonight, Giles thought as he watched the play of emotions that crossed Angel's face. As he'd crooned the young witch's name, the vampire's voice had been wistful and his expression had boldly been that of a man who had obviously been well satisfied. The corner of his lips even twitched with the beginning of what might have been a smirk had it not been suppressed. But Angel's display of pleasure was short-lived, the pain and woe that were usually visible in his eyes swiftly replaced the contentment and light Giles saw there. A look of infinite sadness marred Angel's features for a few moments before being replaced by the stoic countenance he wore so well.
Angel took in a deep breath then released it slowly. It appeared as though he was about to speak, but then his lips were pressed shut in thin, tight line.
"Let me make this easier for both of us," Giles offered. Angel's response to the proposal was the simple arching of his eyebrows.
"I already know what's transpired between you and Willow."
Angel was, to say the least, shocked by Giles' revelation and shot an accusatory glance in the direction of the sofa on which Xander still slept soundly.
"He told you," the now angry vampire growled.
"No," Giles said emphatically. "Xander, much to my annoyance, told me almost nothing about what had happened to him. The poor boy came to me, not surprisingly, for some information on reincarnation. Even when I questioned him about his injured hand, all he would say was that he'd hurt it while defending Willow from some unnamed person. I assumed it was an assailant of a human nature."
The last line had been spoken with just enough venom to let Angel know that the Watcher was in no way condoning the affair between the vampire and Willow, but he was still willing to do his part in helping them come to some sort of acceptable resolution. And while Angel was supportive of the Watcher's chosen approach to the situation, he was also unsettled by Giles' insistence that Xander was not the one who had been telling tales. If the boy hadn't told the Watcher about what had gone on up at the Crawford Street mansion, then who had?
"Willow?"
"Good Lord, man! No!" Giles let loose a short, derisive snort. "The poor girl can barely say the word 'sex' in mixed company. I can hardly imagine her sharing with me the details of her tryst with you, especially when one considers the role each of us plays in Buffy's life."
The Watcher had hit his mark with that last statement. Angel was deeply wounded by the mention of the Slayer's name and the implication that what he had done with Willow was tantamount to having committed adultery.
"I didn't come back with intentions of hurting anyone, least of all Buffy. I left my new home in LA so that I could stay clear of the temptation to see her again."
Giles nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand why you would want to flee the city, but I can't understand why you would come back here."
"Because this town is the closest thing I've had to a home in over two hundred years. The woman I love still lives here and even though I can't be with her anymore, I still find some comfort in revisiting places where we've been together. And while it hurts like hell to have to go back to hiding in the shadows, I derive a great deal of pleasure from looking in on the people I once called my friends and seeing that they're all safe and sound. I never dared to dream, wouldn't even have thought to imagine that I would find myself involved with Willow the way that I am now. I really don't know why it's happened and I can't lie to you and say that I found no pleasure during the time we spent together. But I know that it's not right, at least not here and not now. If I could, I would turn back the clock and make it all go away. Since I can't do that, all that I can do is leave here again as quickly as possible and hope that what we've done doesn't hurt Willow in anyway. That's why I came to you. I'm willing to give you whatever you ask for in return for your promise to watch over Willow, just as you watch over Buffy.""If that's all you want of me, Angel, you really needn't have come here tonight and you certainly don't need to bribe me. I will continue to look after Willow just as I always have."
"Things are a bit more complicated now," Angel sighed heavily.
"I think that goes without saying," Giles replied.
Angel had to wonder once again just who had supplied Giles with the details of his affair with Willow. Just how much knowledge did this mystery informant possess and exactly how much of it had they shared with the Watcher? But for the time being, the answers to those questions would have to wait. It was getting late and Angel still wanted to make the drive back to LA and arrive there before the sun came up and left him looking like something that had blown out of the car's ashtray. He would simply have to ascertain how much Giles really knew as quickly as possible and deal with the ramifications of his actions at a later time.
"Giles, do you know what a consort is?"
"Of course I do," was the Watcher's indignant reply. Then the possible reason for asking such a question set off warning bells in Giles' head and he glared at Angel warily. "Why do you ask?"
Angel's face was promptly awash in a sea of guilt and Giles knew instantly that what had taken place between the two lovers went way beyond casual sex, went beyond even the experience of a shared dream.
"Dear God, don't tell me you've fed off another one of my charges?" Giles gasped.
The vampire gave the Watcher a soft growl of warning. Giles was now treading on dangerous territory. He had best watch his step.
"Don't get peevish with me," Giles snapped. "What am I supposed to think? You certainly feasted on my Slayer when the opportunity presented itself!"
"It wasn't like that and you know it! I would never have willingly fed from Buffy. I was just too weak and..." Angel didn't finish his statement. He refused to place the blame for what happened that night upon anyone but himself. There was a long pause before Giles spoke up.
"And?"
"And nothing. I told you I was weak and I couldn't fight any more."
"Buffy pressed the issue, didn't she?"
"Faith's poison had done its job. I was nearly dead and you know how Buffy gets when she's determined to do something. That still doesn't make what I did right. And I would never willingly feed off Buffy or Willow." Angel's head now hung low, his gaze cast down into his lap. "Or any other person, for that matter," he added softly.
"If that's the case, then how do you explain what you've done to Willow? I am well aware of the fact that a vampire/consort bond is made through the blood of both parties. You must ingest some of their blood, and they in turn must consume some of yours. So, if you didn't feed upon Willow, then how exactly did you go about obtaining some of her blood? And how in hell did she end up swallowing some of yours?"
Giles glasses suddenly came crashing down on the counter top and Angel's head shot-up. The Watcher had gone pale and he was squeezing his eyes shut tight as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The area behind his eyes starting to pound with the start of what promised to be a horrendous headache."Oh, please sir," Giles groaned. "Please do not answer my last two questions, for I'm quite certain I could not stomach hearing the sordid details of yours and Willow's activities, sexual or otherwise. Just tell me what it is I am supposed to do with the knowledge that you have now permanently bound that poor, sweet girl to you for the rest of her life. Her relatively short, mortal life I might add. For if you too think for even an instant that I would allow you to turn her into a creature such as yourself, you'll find yourself living in another new home, my vacuum!"
"Giles, please. You know I could never do that. The last thing I ever want is for any of you to be like me. But I am now in a sense married to Willow and I have to confess that I probably know less than you do about what our new relationship entails."
"Then may I suggest that you make it a point to learn all that you can, to acquire that knowledge just as fast as you can."
"I
promise you, I will. But in the mean time, and perhaps for sometime to
come, I need for you to watch Willow carefully. The connection between
us in this life is new and by all rights it should not be very strong.
We shared very little blood and I'm hoping that with some physical distance
placed between us, with any and all personal communication between us is
limited, or better yet, non-existent, Willow should be able to lead a normal
life, a life that doesn't include me if that is what she desires.
I won't call out to her. Not ever. But you already know that this place
in time is not the only one in which we've lived and been connected to
one another. I have no way of
knowing
what kind of effect that will have on us and I seriously doubt that while
I'm researching my new relationship I will uncover anything that addresses
our particular set of circumstances."
Giles let out a heavy sigh then proceeded to slowly re-don his glasses before speaking. If all went well, Willow would awake in the morning with absolutely no memory of what had occurred over the past few days, that she would have no recollection at all of her time spent with the vampire. The hours she had spent in his arms and in his bed would, in principle, cease to exist. They were going to be so deeply hidden in her psyche, they might never resurface. But there was no way he could tell Angel any of that. To do so might make Angel ask once more who was the source of Giles' information. Answering Angel's question truthfully would mean exposing Aoífe and disclosing the fact that the vampiress had been in Sunnydale. The after-effects of that bombshell would be devastating for the vampire, potentially harmful for the Watcher and it would most definitely jeopardize the ancient witch's plan to rid Angel of his corresponding memories.
"I fear that you are right," Giles finally replied. "Still, I shall do my own research on the matter and I will contact you in a day or two so that we can compare notes."
"Thank you, Gi--"
"Rupert. Call me Rupert. And here..." The Watcher dug a small note pad and pencil out from inside one of the kitchen drawers and tossed them down in front of Angel. "You'd best give me your address and phone number in LA so that I can reach you when I need to."
Angel complied with the Watcher's demand without giving it so much as a second thought. So far this was the only information of a somewhat personal nature that Giles had demanded of him. A very large part of Angel wanted to do nothing more than to bolt from the Watcher's apartment before he asked for anything more. But the part of Angel that was still a noble, 16th century Irishman was determined to make good on the offer he'd made earlier, even if that meant reminding Giles that the said same offer was still on the table.
Keeping his eyes cast down as he finished writing out his new address, Angel spoke to Giles in as casual a voice as he could muster.
"Willow tells me that you have a desire to hear about my time in Hell. Would my sharing those memories with you be an adequate expression of my gratitude for the help you are providing me and the care you will give to Willow?"
When Giles didn't answer right away, Angel was forced to look up. He handed the Watcher back his pad and pencil while he tried to make heads or tales out of the expression on Giles' face.
Giles was painfully aware of the fact that Aoífe had already told him that Angel would willingly share those very intimate and painful memories if it meant that Willow would be kept safe, but he hadn't really believed her at the time, hadn't ever really expected to ever hear Angel actually utter the words that would make the proposal formal. After Giles had chosen to ignore the vampire's earlier non-specific offer of remuneration, the Watcher had assumed that the matter would be dropped, that Angel would see that a window had been left open for him and would escape as soon as possible. He had assumed wrong. Angel had just demonstrated once again that when he was in possession of his soul, the vampire truly was a creature with more integrity than most of the "men" Giles knew. The unemployed librarian (and one time curator at the British Museum) was at a complete loss for words. Never had he really expected to have to accept or decline such an offer.
Angel was still holding out the paper and pencil and Giles was forced to take them from him. As he did so, his fingertips brushed the vampire's and the Watcher's mind was suddenly filled with a vision.
Angel was sprawled out before him, naked and broken, laying belly down at his feet. Blood was splattered everywhere, blood from Angel's back. The flesh there had been torn away, the wounds too numerous to count, wounds so deep that muscles and bones were visible through most of them. Giles moved his gaze over toward one of his own hands, a hand which held a vicious looking whip. The instrument of torture was long and heavy. It felt good in his grasp. It was a multi-tipped work of art with long metal nails embedded in the last few inches of each thin strip of leather. Pieces of Angel's skin were stuck to most of the spikes and blood still ran down the length of the whip, pooling at the ends, forming large, tear-shaped droplets that eventually fell off and spattered on the floor.
Giles had to fight the urge to vomit. Not even during the darkest hours of his checkered past had he ever participated in so cruel an act as the one he had obviously been a part of in that vision. Which isn't to say that he had never entertained such thoughts. Oh no, he had. During the time he was held captive by Angelus and was being brutally tortured himself, the Watcher had imagined doing this to the soulless vampire, doing this and more. Much more, and much, much worse.
During that time Drusilla had been allowed to work her magic on him. She had gotten inside his head and had tricked him into seeing things that he wanted to see. Was some other force doing that very same things to him right then? Was this vision really something Giles wanted to see? Or was he being forced to absorb one of Angel's memories? At some point during Angel's stay in Hell, had Acathla assumed Giles' shape so that he could add a new dimension to the souled vampire's torment?
Giles quickly tore his hand away from Angel's. He couldn't tell if they'd been touching for mere moments or for a number of long, pain filled minutes. Angel's expression revealed nothing, he appeared to be as detached as usual. But Giles did now have an answer for Angel. He now wanted to know nothing of Angel's time in Hell for he was certain that what he'd just seen would pale in comparison to some of the other abuses that where inflicted upon the vampire.
"No," Giles said firmly. "I will watch over Willow because I truly care for her. I will help you simply because it's the right thing to do. The memories of what you endured during your time in Hell belong to no one but you and the other creatures that shared that time and space with you. There is no one on this plain who should share them with you."
"Thank you, Rupert." Angel wanted to say more. He wanted to tell the Watcher that he was wrong, that in his heart he believed that there was in fact one other creature roaming the earth that shared many of his memories from that dark place because she had been there with him. But he wouldn't. Things were complicated enough already. There was no need for Angel to add his own personal psychoses to the mix.
Giles exited the kitchen and waited for Angel to join him so that he might see him out. On his way over to where Giles was standing, Angel paused to look over the back of the couch. Xander was still "dead to the world". The vampire chuckled at his witty choice of words then tenderly ran his fingers through the sleeping boys hair before turning and heading for the front door.
Angel and Giles made short work of their good-byes. There really wasn't much more that needed to be said by either of them. But just as Angel was about to walk away, he stopped to ask Giles on last question.
"Xander's hand... How?"
"A friend of mine healed it," Giles replied, a faint smile lighting up his face as he remembered his time spent in Aoífe's company.
"Pretty powerful friend."
"Hmmm... that she is."
End
Entry 27