Buffy knocked softly on the door of his apartment and waited. Maybe she should have just gone to the Bronze with Willow and Xander . . . After all, she had seen Angel the night before last. What if he thought she was getting clingy? What if–
Her thoughts were interupted and her doubts banished as soon as Angel opened the door and smiled at her. It was strange, seeing his old, familiar half-smile after the unhindered one the ancient Angel had given her. Not unpleasent, but strange. She’d been getting used to the other one.
“I wanted to see you,” she said shyly. She, the Slayer, was shy because the most gorgeous man she had ever seen was standing there smiling her at? What was wrong with that? Buffy couldn’t remember anymore.
“Come in,” Angel said, stepping aside. She took his invitation and walked past him, her heart beating faster as she brushed his shirt.
“How are you? Buffy asked, taking a seat on his sofa. She loved Angel’s apartment. It was so . . . him.
“I’m fine. How are you?” Angel asked, taking a seat behind her. She gave a little shrug, then looked down and admitted,
“I missed you.” She looked back up at him. “Isn’t that silly? I just saw you two nights ago. But I missed you.” He shook his head, his eyes holding hers.
“It’s not silly. I know how you feel.” Buffy felt a foolish grin on her face.
“Really? ‘Cause I was beginning to feel you retreating back into your ‘Don’t Bother Me I’m Brooding,’ phase,” Buffy teased.
“Sorry,” Angel said. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Me too,” Buffy said. She opened her mouth to tell him about the quantum vortex, but closed it suddenly, remembering what Giles had said.
“Spike and Dru aren’t up to anything, are they?” Angel demanded. Buffy shook her head.
“It’s not them,” she said. “Actually, they’re being pretty good. It’s rather alarming.” Her mind was not on vampires though. Well . . . not THOSE vampires. It was focused rather intently on the one beside her.
“I can tell you're very alarmed,” Angel said dryly. Buffy grinned up at him.
“You know me too well,” she sighed. “No fooling you. There is something I AM alarmed about though.” Angel was instantly alert.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’ve been here almost five minutes and you haven’t kissed me yet,” Buffy told him matter of factly. Angel smiled and set about easing her mind.
When they subsided into the couch cushions again–Buffy’s head on Angel’s chest and his arm around her–Buffy was silent for a long time, savoring the feeling of being held by him, his hand stroking her hair gently. Then a nasty little thought crept into her mind, disturbing her happiness and would not go away. Buffy sighed before she spoke.
“Angel, when did Darla make you?” She could feel his whole body stiffen and she felt guilty immediately. She sat up and looked at the pain in his face. “I’m sorry! Forget I asked.” He shook his head though, looking past her at a time she could not see.
“It was seventeen fifty three. I was nineteen. It was late at night, and I was slightly drunk. I saw her in the street. She was dressed like a lady. A LADY.” Buffy put one hand to Angel’s cheek, trying to smooth away the hurt and sorrow in his face. She shook her head; whispered for him to stop. He continued anyway. “I offered to escort her home. She told me she could show me the world; to close my eyes. She bit me. That was all.” Buffy began shivering, remembering how he had come up to her in the street. Hadn’t he said then that he was slightly drunk? He met Darla the same way he met Buffy? But what a difference. *Besides,* Buffy reminded herself. *He did not meet me. I already knew him.* A chill struck her. *I could have been Darla. It was the right year. I could have been Darla.* Buffy wanted to go back, to warn him. But she couldn’t. If she warned him, she wouldn’t have this Angel, the one she loved. But he would be happier, wouldn’t he?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” But she was thinking how sorry she was that she had come on the wrong night. How sorry and how glad and how sorry that she WAS glad.
Buffy’s hopes turned to ash when she went back again.
She was in the exact same place, and Angel was still sitting there looking at her expectantly, waiting for her story. Luckily, she’d had Giles come up with something, just in case. Buffy took a deep breath and lied.
She was looking for a relative. Her only living relative, in fact, a mysterious uncle. Her parents had died in a carriage accident and she had come to Ireland, her uncle’s last known whereabouts to search for him. While searching for an inn to stay at in Galway, she had been robbed of everything. Which was when Angel had found her. Buffy thanked him profusely, telling him that she had been so dazed the night before that she hadn’t been able to thank him properly for all the help he’d given her.
“Who is this uncle of yours? Perhaps I can help you find him,” Angel suggested. Buffy bit her lip, pretending to be reluctant, then gave the name of the current Watcher. Giles had thought of that, for, though the Watcher was in continental Europe most of the seventeen fifties, if Buffy could find him he would be able to help her. Maybe.
“I will ask for him around town. After dinner, that is,” Angel said, with a smile. Sophia tsked at him.
“Musn’t work without being properly fed, must we?” she asked. Buffy frowned. After dinner? What was he planning to do the rest of the day, if Sophia’s words about him never working were true?
“Well, dinner will be served in a few moments, so you won’t have t’ wait long Buffy,” Sohpia said. Buffy blinked, then sighed. Everything was mixed up in this time. Dinner served at lunch time? At least she was still in the clothes they had given her, and didn’t have to go through that whole *indecent* thing again! What a bunch of crap! So what if a girl liked to show off her legs a little? After all, they were nice legs!
Buffy cast a covert glance at Angel, or Angelus or whatever his name was, who was talking to his niece (who had returned with the vegetables, as bid). He was so cute! She’d never thought that about Angel before. Stunning, yes. Absolutely gorgeous. Incredibly fine. But now he was CUTE! And not little kid cute (though beside her Angel he seemed like a child) but absolutely, heartbreakingly adorable. As well as all those other things.
Unfortunately, she’d been stupid enough to tell him that she was love, and since she couldn’t very well tell him that she was in love with HIM . . . well, she was rather stuck. Besides, for all his flirting Buffy got the feeling that Angel (at least this Angel) was a very gentlemanly, hands-off sort of person. After all, he’d found her in a dark street, half undressed (*Stop that!* she told herself. *You’re starting to believe them!*) and very confused, and yet he had taken her home to his sister. Buffy called that gentlemanly, and somehow it reminded her very strongly of her Angel. Who, if she did something wrong (or right) in this time, she might never know.
“So what do you say? You want a tour? I’ll only show you the interestin’ parts o’ the city,” Angel promised. Buffy smiled. This was exactly what she wanted–time alone with Angel.
“I’d love to,” she said. Sophia was frowning though.
“I don’t know if it’s entirely proper for you t’ go unchaperoned, and I have work to do,” she protested. Buffy stopped herself short of making a face. So far she REALLY was not enjoying the eighteenth century! First these constricting dresses (though she had to admit she liked the feel of all the skirts against her legs, and they were pretty), and now she couldn’t go walking with Angel? When she really wanted to do much more than walk . . .
“Oh, it’s all right. I’ll say she’s our cousin,” Angel said. Buffy nodded in his support. She had a craving for the great outdoors. That was, she had a craving for anyplace less cramped and low ceilinged than this house. Besides, she wanted to see Angel in the sunlight. She’d seen him in the day, but inside wasn’t the same. Angel in the sunlight . . . it was almost an oxymoron. In her time, but not in this time.
“I suppose it’s all right. You can look for her uncle,” Sophia said, brining her hand up to her mouth as if in worry over the propriety of the situation. Buffy noticed a strange ring on her wedding finger–it was a heart topped by a crown and held between two hands. It looked familiar somehow, but Buffy couldn’t place it. Maybe Angel had one . . . Either Angel. She’d have to ask later. Now she was going out with Angel.
“Of course. Come on then Buffy. We’re off,” Angel said, opening the door for her. Buffy waved at Sophia and went out the door, Angel right behind her.
“Angel . . . us,” she said, catching her mistake. He looked slightly amused, but didn’t say anything, so she kept going. “Is Sophia your only sister?” He smiled and shook his head.
“Lord no! I’m one of eight children,” he said. Buffy gaped. Eight siblings? And he’d never even once mentioned one?
Buffy wouldn’t either if she had killed her eight brothers and sisters.
“Two more sisters and four brothers,” Angel continued. Buffy shut her mouth and tried to pay attention. “And you?” he asked.
“I’m an only child,” Buffy replied quickly. It was true, and she already felt bad lying to him about everything else. Though this wasn’t the Angel she knew, so she shouldn’t feel guilty. She never felt guilty lying to other people. Well, maybe sometimes her mother, but that was a different story altogether.
“I’m sorry,” Angel said. Buffy blinked at him, not quite sure what to make of his answer.
“You’re sorry?” she asked. “Why?”
“I canna imagine not havin’ a large family. And you lost your parents as well . . . that must be verra hard,” Angel said. Buffy looked down. She HAD lost her dad in a way . . . her parents had divorced and he lived in LA. She had gone to see him last summer though, for the whole summer, and that had been nice. She’d never really wanted siblings. She sort of enjoyed being an only child, and any younger siblings would be a nuisance now, getting into her stuff and asking questions about what she was doing. Still . . . she could understand how it might be nice to have someone to talk to about stuff like her parents’ divorce. Someone who knew what she meant. Knew what she was feeling . . .
Buffy sighed and Angel looked worried. “Are you all right?” he asked. “I didna mean to remind you.” She shook her head and summoned a smile for him.
“I’m fine, really. So are you in the middle? Youngest, oldest, what?” Buffy asked, diverting the subject back to him.
“I’m the youngest,” Angel replied. “The baby o’ the family. That’s why I’m so spoiled and I do na work.” Buffy tilted her head to see his face better.
“You could work if you put your mind to it. I know you could Angel,” Buffy said without thinking. He gave her a strange look.
“Why do you call me that? And how did you know my name in the first place?” Angel asked. Buffy bit her lip. She didn’t know an answer for this one.
“I, um . . . I guessed?” she asked. He shook his head, smiling. “All right, you’ve got me. I saw you in the tavern before I was robbed. I was in a corner. I’m sure you didn’t see me, but I heard people saying your name. I call you Angel because . . . because I knew another man who was . . . very like you, named Angel. And another one, a bad man, named Angelus. The first has a better thought attached. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Buffy apologized. To her relief he seemed to be accepting the lie. That was a close one.
“I didn’t know there were many other Angelus’s. Or Angels for that matter,” Angel murmured.
“There aren’t. Just those two. And you,” Buffy said softly. She looked up and their eyes met and caught. She knew his eyes. She knew them so well. Their black depths were her haven, her refuge. She felt safe lost there. But for all their comfort and passion, there was a difference, as there was with everything. These eyes were more than the others she knew . . . they brimmed with love of life and joy and recklessness, but they were also less. Two hundred years later they would be much older, and infinitely wiser. Infinitely sadder too, with more pain than anyone should ever have to endure, and the only joy in them was what Buffy put there. It was not arrogance on her part to think she was all that made him happy. It was truth. She had seen Angel’s soul and she knew it as she knew her own. He loved her, and she loved him. But the soul she knew was not the soul of the young man before her. His soul had not been trapped by a demon for over a hundred years.
“You are my Angel,” Buffy breathed, and saw in his eyes that he had heard her.
“You are in love. Who with?” Angel asked. Buffy held her breath, then remembered a dark street and a vampire dressed as a beautiful lady. She broke the gaze.
“I will tell you someday,” she said for the second time. “Not now. Not now.” He nodded. They turned and walked on.
Buffy waited until the house was bathed in silence before she rose from bed, struggled into her borrowed dress and pulled Angel’s cloak around her. It was easy sneaking out–there was a window out of her room, and she was on the first floor. It was a small window, and her dress was rather bulky, but she didn’t want to be caught in her regular clothes again. Before she left she tucked a few stakes she had managed to pick up during the day into the pockets of the cloak, and made sure they were accessible.
Out on the street Buffy slipped quickly through the streets, avoiding lights and people, towards Angel’s small house on the other side of the river which ran through the city. He had shown her where it was that day and she’d made sure she remembered how to get there. The house was totally dark when she got there, and, though he could have been asleep, she didn’t want to risk it, so she went on to the tavern he usually frequented. He had pointed that out too, and it was on the street he had met Buffy. Which was what scared her.
She didn’t know when she had decided, but at some point she had realized that she couldn’t lie in bed knowing that at any moment Angel could be approaching Darla and being bit. Of course, it was very improbable that she would happen to show up on the actual day that Darla found Angel (or vice-versa). Still, she couldn’t just lay around and see. She didn’t know what she would do if it was the night–could she kill Darla if it meant never even knowing Angel?–but she knew she had to be there. So she went to the tavern.
The tavern was lighted and loud. Buffy wished she could go in, but knew it would be stupid. She peeked in the window though, and saw Angel at the bar with several friends. She found a seat in the dark, where someone wouldn’t see her walking out the tavern door and waited.
She waited for what seemed like hours, but she knew (even without a watch) that it had only been about half an hour when the now almost familiar blackness struck.
Buffy sat straight up in bed and glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. 11:57. She’d only been asleep for about forty-five minutes. She’d stayed at Angel’s until a little after ten, then had climbed in through her window, only to be caught by her mother. She said she was at Willow’s studying and had lost track of time, missing her ten o’clock curfew. Joyce was not impressed, but said they’d talk about it in the morning. Buffy had gone upstairs and tried to go to bed, but she hadn’t been able to sleep for a while. And then she had slept, and she had gone back in time again.
She’d thought it was nearing midnight there too. And she knew she had gone back to a little before noon. That was also when she’d gone back from regular time. It had been about ten minutes after the beginning of lunch, because she’d eaten in class right before lunch and hadn’t been hungry, and then went to the library. First lunch went from 11:45 until 12:25. So it had been a few minutes before noon. And she’d transfered to (she thought) a little before midnight, then back a little before noon the next day. So it was every twelve hours (in the respective time)? Why would that be? And could she use it to her advantage?
It was too late; Buffy couldn’t think. Technically, she’d just lived through two days, rather than one, and it was much too late to think straight anyway. If she was right she had till noon the next day. That was plenty of time.
Buffy buried her face in her pillow and tried for a long time to go to sleep.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all over,” Giles said crossly. Buffy brushed past him, ignoring his complaint, then turned to tell him what had happened. It was the morning, before school, so she still had plenty of time. If she was right.
“It happened again Giles. Last night, in the middle of the night. It was a little before midnight. I think it happens every twelve hours. It was a little before midnight there too, I think, though I’m not totally sure,” Buffy said. He looked startled, then started nodding when she explained the twelve hours thing.
“That makes sense. I’ve done a bit of research. It seems the vortex usually works this way–in half days.”
“How long will it keep going?” Buffy demanded.
“I’m not . . . not entirely sure,” Giles admitted reluctantly. “You see, from everything I’ve read, it seems that you will keep going back until you do something to . . . well alter history in a way that you wouldn’t keep going back.”
“Like keeping Angel from becoming a vampire,” Buffy said in a flat voice.
“Essentially yes,” Giles said. Buffy sighed.
“Isn’t there any other way to stop it?” she asked, beginning to despair. Who knew when Darla was going to come, and she couldn’t keep leading this double life forever. Plus the fact that she didn’t WANT to keep Angel from being a vampire was rather inconvenient.
“The vortex is not permanent. At some point it will go away, but it could be months, even years,” Giles said.
“I can’t do this for that long!” Buffy cried.
“I know. But the . . . the other option you suggested isn’t so difficult.” Buffy felt a chill go through her and willed him to stop. Unfortunately, he didn’t listen. “You see, I’ve been looking through the Watcher diaries and it has the date that Angel was . . . made into a vampire, because the Watcher noted the day when his whole family was killed. January twenty eighth. Which meant he was made the night of the twenty seventh.”
“But that’s today!” Buffy exclaimed, feeling all strength leave her suddenly. She sat down with a thump. Giles was watching her with compassion in his eyes.
“I know. You’ll have to do it tonight. I’m sorry Buffy, but there’s no other option.” Buffy felt like the world was collapsing in on her and it took her a moment to register that this wasn’t another transference, just the ending of her world without the beginning of another.