The Angel of old didn’t come to see them that day. Sophia said he’d come that morning to say he was going to be at the inn all day, since there wasn’t much to do at the docks (the sea being too rough to fish very much). Buffy was welcome to go and visit him, and any letters she needed to write could be written and sent from the inn. The innkeeper was the possessor of nearly the only paper and ink in the city, and Sophia told her he would give some to her, if only for Angel’s sake (for, Sophia said, he was found of her brother, even if the boy couldn’t put in a real day’s work). So Buffy found herself going to the inn, a basket of food from Sophia on her arm and the excuse of writing to her old governess in America on her tongue.
The inn was attached to the tavern, and run by the same man, but it was a completely different place. Though Sophia said it had declined heavily (along with the rest of the city) since Cromwell’s soldiers had taken the city in 1652 and the trade with Spain had stopped, it was small and neat and cosy (though a bit run-down) and the innkeeper was a bright faced man who gave her a knowing look when she asked for Angel.
“He’s in the stables, around back miss,” the man said. Buffy smiled her thanks at him and went out and around the inn to the stables behind them. She glanced up as she entered. There was a loft above, and several stalls in a straight row. There was a rather large hole in the ceiling, and a few of the supporting timbers seemed a little unstable to be holding up a roof, but besides that everything was fine. She didn’t see Angel.
“Angel? Are you here?” she called.
“Boo,” he said behind her. Buffy jumped and turned, stopping herself from going into an automatic defense position only from an act of extreme will.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Buffy exclaimed. He grinned unrepenantly.
“I was outside and I saw you come in, so I thought I’d suprise ye. I’m sorry,” he apologized, though his eyes glittered without a speck of remorse in them. She remembered how those eyes had glittered above her the night before as he . . . but no. That was not this Angel. That was another man, one who was gone.
“You are not! Sophia sent you some food, ‘in case Séamus doesn’t feed you right,’ she said. I have to write a letter to my old governess in America, and she said this was the place,” Buffy said, handing him the basket, which he took with a smile. She watched his hands as he took it and saw he wasn’t wearing a Claddagh ring (the kind Sophia had been wearing–she’d explained that they were exchanged sort of like engagement or wedding rings, though they weren’t official). She almost felt relieved in a way, though she didn’t know why. After all, this wasn’t her Angel, and besides, if he’d been wearing one with the heart facing out that meant she was available. It was only if the heart faced in that he was taken. Buffy thought anyway–she was never very good at remembering details, especially not while living two lives. But that was beyond the point. Buffy wrenched her attention back to his answer.
“Aye. Can you write yourself? Uilliam, the fellow in the corner of the Common Room can write it you canna,” Angel said. Buffy stared at him. aghast for a moment. Not able to write? Who couldn’t write?
“I can write! I mean, I’m not very good in school, but I can at least read and write,” Buffy said.
“Not many can. I learned from Uilliam a few years ago, so I could help Séamus with a few things, but most dinna read or write,” Angel said. At first Buffy thought he was joking, then realized he was deadly serious. Most people didn’t read or write? Didn’t they have schools or anything? She refrained from asking though, instead taking a seat on a hay bale near her. She cocked her head up at Angel and regarded him quizzically for a moment, already steeling herself for letting go. This wasn’t her Angel. She had to tell herself that. She had already said good bye to him and she couldn’t do it again. So this wasn’t him. This was someone she was trying to save, not destroy.
“What do you do here? I mean, what’s your work, exactly?” she asked. Angel shrugged.
“I do a bit o’ everything really,” he said. “I was just waterin’ the horses before you came. Do you ride?”
“A little,” Buffy said. “I used to do it pretty regularly. I was always more of an ice skater though, than a horse person.”
“Is it cold a lot where you’re from then? And do you live by a lake?” Angel asked. Buffy’s brows drew together and she wondered for a second what he was talking about, then realized they didn’t have ice rinks yet.
“Um . . . yeah. We lived right next to a lake when I was young and we always had really long winters,” Buffy lied. Long winters in L.A. was just about as wrong a sentence as one could get. Not as wrong as Angel in the sunlight, but pretty wrong anyway.
In half a day Angel in the sunlight would be right, forever.
Buffy shook herself, trying to wake herself from the reverie she kept falling into, thinking about Angel, and Willow and Xander and Giles. She could kill the latter three and she would certainly make the first not exist. Not as she knew him anyway. How could she take that risk? She would be responsible for the death of her best friends, not to mention her Watcher! What would she do without Giles? Would another Watcher come to take his place, or would Buffy be on her own?
“Buffy? Are you all right?” Angel asked. She shook herself again and looked up at him, catching his eyes before she could stop herself. They were so familiar and so strange. They were so bright, and they would never have that way of lighting just for her, just because of her . . . But they were always lit, and that was better, wasn’t it? That was what she was going to risk everything to save. The light in those eyes.
“I’m all right. I don’t feel that well, but it’ll pass. Someday. Hopefully. There’s nothing you can do really. Angel . . . I-I have to go home soon,” Buffy said, biting her lower lip.
“What do you mean? You have no money and no way to get home!” he protested. She avoided looking at him, staring at the dirt floor instead.
“I do, actually. I can’t explain it, but I do. I want to thank you now for all the kindness you’ve given me,” Buffy said.
“It was the least I could do for a beautiful lady in distress,” Angel said. She didn’t look at him. Hearing his voice was bad enough. Even through the accent the voice was the same, and a voice does not grow older as eyes do. Not in the same way.
“Will you promise me something, Angel?” Buffy whispered.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Don’t do that again. Don’t go up to any strange women on the street. Please? Promise,” Buffy said. She did look at him then, and caught his eyes, pleading with him.
“I promise,” he said after a moment. “I promise.” Now it was done. Even if Buffy didn’t do anything else, she might have just changed the future. It depended on Angel. If he kept his word. “Why?” he asked after a long moment.
“I can’t tell you. I don’t know. I have . . . a bad feeling. Just don’t, please?”
“I promised,” he reminded her. She nodded, and looked away; down.
“What do you like to do, for fun?” Buffy asked after a long time. She might as well get to know this man that she was saving.
“I dinna think the things I do are suitable for a lady,” Angel said with a smile. Buffy looked up, a cry of indignation on her lips.
“I am getting seriously annoyed with this suitable and not suitable thing! Where I’m from a woman can do anything a man can do! Sometimes better! And there’s no such thing as ‘suitable for a lady’!” Buffy exclaimed. Angel looked taken aback, but his eyes were dancing.
“Indeed? Well, everyone says America is a verra strange place. And you are certainly the strangest girl I have ever met. So I suppose I must teach you what I do for fun, though it be about as bad as you can get,” Angel said, laughing. He reached into a pocket and pulled out some rough, wooden dice, then knelt on the stable floor.
“Here’s how you begin,” he said, showing her how the game went. Buffy pushed away all thoughts of loss as she sank to the floor and prepared to enjoy herself.
“I have to go, Angel. Sophia will want me to help with supper. It’s the least I can do,” Buffy said, tucking her newly written letter (a note to the Angel that would, in so soon a time, not exist anymore) into her pocket.
“When will I see ye again?” Angel asked. After playing dice for quite some time and gambling away quite a lot of money that she didn’t have, Buffy had gone to write the letter, supposedly to the governess. She had told the innkeeper that since she was going back to America soon, she would take it herself, and not bother sending it, as it would most likely get lost in the mail anyway. Now she had to go, and she had to tell Angel it was the last time he would see her. Which, if he kept his promise, might be true.
“I don’t know,” Buffy said truthfully. “Maybe never. I’m leaving tommorrow morning.”
“So soon?” Angel asked. Buffy nodded, avoiding his gaze. She had so much fun that afternoon. Her Angel hadn’t played as this one did. She loved him, but she found herself loving this Angel for his differences as well as his similarities.
“I have to go. I can’t tell you why, or explain, but you have to believe me. Thank you for everything,” Buffy said. She didn’t know how to say good bye to this man, whom she had only known two days, but also over a year. Who she was in love with, but not really. She was in love with the man he would never be. But maybe she was in love with this man too. She didn’t know, couldn’t know.
“This is good bye then? You have not told me who you are in love with yet,” Angel pointed out. Buffy almost looked at him, but couldn’t stand to see his eyes again.
“I can’t. Not yet. It’s not good bye forever, I promise. I will find you, and I will tell you. Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving the world, just going to America. Maybe I’ll come back someday, or you’ll come to America. If you ever do, look for me, all right? Buffy Summers. Look for me.” He was nodding.
“I will,” he said. “I will find you. I’ve never met anyone like you, ever.”
“You probably never will again, either, and that’s not an idle threat,” Buffy said, feeling her throat thicken and finding it hard to talk suddenly. He smiled and raised a hand almost to her cheek, then dropped it.
“Good bye,” Angel said.
“Good bye Angel,” Buffy said, for the second time. Good bye. That was all she was saying now, it seemed. Everyone she loved . . . good bye. She risked looking up, into his eyes and shivered at what she saw there. “I’ll leave your cloak with Sophia,” Buffy said, remembering his gift. She wouldn’t even have Angel’s leather jacket anymore. He shook his head though.
“Keep it. T’ remember me by.” She nodded and began to turn away.
“Good bye,” she said again. He was silent, and she turned and kept walking, not allowing herself to look back.
Buffy changed into her regular clothes before leaving that night. She wasn’t coming back, and she didn’t want to steal Sophia’s clothes or get them dirty in the fight. And being able to move was always a plus. She put the cloak on over her regular clothes, tucked the stakes in the pockets and put her letter to Angel in one of the pockets. She had told Sophia that she was planning to leave the next day, but she would be gone by then. She was going to have to leave after killing Darla, if she did need to kill her. There would be all sorts of questions that she couldn’t answer if Angel saw her kill the vampire and then she stayed. Besides, it would be better if Angel just thought she was going home. Which she was, in a way, but home to another continent would be easier for him to stomach than home to another time.
Buffy fought off weariness as she made her way to the tavern. She hadn’t slept for almost twenty four hours, and it was beginning to get to her. As the Slayer, she had much more endurance than regular people, but she still had trouble after that long a day without any rest. Besides, she hadn’t slept well the night before.
She sat down outside the tavern, resting her head on her updrawn knees and trying very hard to stay awake. What if she slept through the whole thing? What would she do? She’d have to kill Angel–the vampire Angelus that was–to save his family. If it was going to be this hard to kill Darla, who had once hurt her mother badly, how could she ever kill Angel, even a bad Angel?
The street was very dark and very quiet. Before Buffy could stop herself she had drifted off to sleep, curled up against the tavern wall.
She was awoken by shouting and light. Buffy stiffened and moved automatically into a defense pose, then realized she hadn’t been seen yet. She sank down to sitting again, and rubbed at her eyes, wondering how she could have gone to sleep. And then she registered the voice that was shouting. Angel’s. He had been kicked out of the tavern, having no more money, or so Buffy gathered. The door to the tavern shut and it was dark again. The man with Angel staggered in Buffy’s general direction and she pulled the cloak tighter around her, hoping he wouldn’t see her. He passed out a few yards away and Buffy eyed him with disgust for a moment before returning her attention to Angel.
Who was talking with a beautiful lady who sent all of Buffy’s alarms off at high speed.
She sprang to her feet and began approaching slowly. She should have Slayed Darla before Angel ever got near her. Now the vampire could use Angel as a hostage if Buffy tried anything. How could she have been so stupid as to fall asleep? And why hadn’t Angel kept his promise?
Buffy couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Darla soon beckoned Angel to follow her. He did, Buffy close behind. The Slayer pulled a stake from her pocket and, as Darla told Angel to close his eyes, she shed the heavy cloak. Angel’s eyes were closed now, and Darla’s face was changing. Assuming it’s true form. Buffy watched, mesmerized, as Darla bent towards Angel’s white neck . . .
“No!” Buffy screamed, pulling herself into action. She was on Darla before the vampire could even register her existence, throwing her to the floor. Angel’s eyes were open and staring with confusion at Buffy. He looked at Darla, saw her face and turned white with horror.
“Run,” Buffy told him shortly. “Run as far as you can go and don’t look back.” She didn’t know if he did as she told him, because Darla was up then and Buffy was much too tired to concentrate on two things at once.
“Who are you?” Darla hissed, circling.
“The Slayer,” Buffy answered, for once not really in the mood for small talk. *Tell me again why I’m risking everyone I love for this?* she asked silently.
“You speak truly. But the Slayer is on the Continent!” Darla exclaimed. “I am sure of it!” Buffy smiled sweetly at the now hideous lady.
“I’ll be sure to tell my Watcher that next time I see him. He always likes to know just where I am,” Buffy said, attacking before her sentence was finished. She delivered a kick to Darla’s shoulder, then tried a punch to her chin, which the vampire blocked. Darla kicked Buffy’s feet out from under her in an elementary move that wouldn’t have worked if Buffy hadn’t been so tired. Unfortunately, she WAS that tired, and she fell to the ground hard.
Pushing herself up, Buffy went quickly into a spin-kick-spin-kick combo, hitting Darla hard several times and knocking her down. The vampire refused to stay put though, and rolled away, coming up several yards away, breathing hard.
“What’s in this for you, Slayer?” Darla panted.
“Basically nothing,” Buffy admitted, then smiled, “Except I get to kick your ass. And then there’s the whole sacred duty thing.” She did a flip to right in front of Darla, then ducked the punch Darla threw at her. “Nice try, but a little high,” she said. Darla snarled at her, showing her fangs. Buffy smiled back, showing her own perfect (thanks to braces) teeth.
From there it was not long until Darla was cornered against a nearby building. Buffy drove her back with several kicks and a flurry of punches. The cornered vampire, like an animal in a similar situation, tended to get more fierce in its desperation. Buffy was ready for that though, and turned Darla’ s kick into a flip–for the vampire, over Buffy’s arm. Darla lay on the ground, Buffy’s foot holding her down by the throat.
“Good bye,” Buffy said, holding the stake above Darla’s chest. And then came the moment. The second when she had to push it in. Gone, Darla, into dust. Gone, Angel too, though not into dust. Into oblivion. Into nothing. *Come on Buffy! Do it!* she screamed at herself. The tears started again, and Darla, seeing them, made one last effort to rise. Her upward motion was all Buffy needed. The stake plunged into the vampire’s chest and in a cloud of dust Angel was gone.
Buffy sank to her knees where the vampire had been a second before. *Angel!* her mind screamed. She could almost feel his face starting to fade from her mind. *No!*
“Are you all right?” he asked behind her. “What happened? Where is she?” Buffy sprang to her feet and turned, catching his face in her mind. This was Angel. But not her Angel. This was the Angel she had saved, the one she had risked everything for. Her Angel was gone now. This Angel had picked up his cloak and put it around her to keep her warm.
“I’m fine. She’s . . . well, that’s all that’s left of her,” Buffy said, indicating the pile of dust on the stones. “She was a vampire. I Slew her. That’s what happens.”
“How did you know? What was she going t’ do?” Angel asked. “I knew because . . . because I know. I can’t explain it. I’m the Slayer. I kill vampires, and I killed this one. She was going to make you into a vampire, like her. You would live forever, but you wouldn’t have been you. When someone’s made into a vampire a demon possesses their body and they lose their soul. Usually. I couldn’t let that happen to you,” Buffy said. He looked confused and not quite sure what to do, but thankful all the same.
“I’m sorry I broke my promise,” he said after a moment. Buffy looked away and sighed.
“I know. You’re forgiven. But . . . why did you do it?” she asked. She looked back and caught his eyes. They looked, suddenly, more like those of her Angel than they ever had before.
“I did it because I thought maybe she’d make me forget ye. You were goin’ away and you love someone else and I wanted . . . distraction. I was tryin’ not t’ think about you,” Angel said softly. Buffy felt her mouth begin to tremble and the tears begin to come back. He loved her in this time as well, and for all he knew they had just met. She reached out a hand to touch his cheek and trace the line of his mouth. He turned his head and kissed her hand.
“I can’t stay,” Buffy whispered. “I don’t have long.” It was true. It must be almost midnight, almost time for her to go.
“I thought you were goin’ in the mornin’,” Angel said softly. Buffy shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek in the process.
“No. Tonight. In a few minutes.”
“I have somethin’ t’ give you then. I was goin’ t’ leave it at Sophia’s house, but you are here, so I’d better do it now. I . . . got this for you,” Angel said, drawing something from his pocket. He opened his hand and Buffy caught her breath as she saw the ring. She looked to his hand and there was one there that had not been there earlier. With the heart facing in, towards him.
“Thank you,” Buffy whispered.
“So you will remember me, even when you find your lover again,” Angel said. Buffy closed her eyes. She would never find her lover again, and she wouldn’t remember Angel, no matter how many rings he gave her. “The hands are friendship, and the crown is loyalty, and the heart is . . . well you know.” Buffy opened her eyes and nodded. In that moment he sounded like her Angel more than he ever had before. “With the heart facing out it means you’re available, but when it faces in it means you . . . belong t’ someone. With someone,” Angel said.
“I know,” Buffy said softly, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Before I go though . . . I made a promise too, and I have yet to keep it. Do you remember?” He reached out to wipe away her tears, as he had in the other time. She closed her eyes again for a second and then opened them.
“Aye,” he said softly. She met his eyes.
“It’s you. I love you, and I always have and I always will. The other Angel I told you about . . . that was you, and the other Angelus as well. They were both you, as you could have been. You never will be now. Oh, I know I don’t make any sense. Not to you anyway. I just want you to know that I love you now, while I still know who you are. I love you,” Buffy repeated. She could see the confusion in his eyes, the trying to understand. But she could also see the love there, and the happiness and the sorrow and everything else. And the knowledge that she loved him. She looked down at the ring in her hand and he looked at it too, and then, very slowly, she slipped it on, with the heart facing towards her. He took her hand and kissed the ring, meeting her eyes again. Her hand dropped and they faced each other.
Angel kissed her. It was the same kiss–it still sent fireworks off in her head–but it was different. There was something missing in the this kiss that had always been there before. *Despair,* Buffy thought. When she had kissed Angel before, it had always been the Slayer kissing a vampire. And there had always been despair there, blocking out the joy. But now it was only joy and abandon, for the first moment. Despair intruded then, because Buffy knew she would never see him again and he thought she was going to America. But for one second Buffy knew what it was like to kiss Angel with only love between them.
When the kiss was over Buffy looked at Angel for a long time, once again memorizing his face, storing it away in her heart. This was the man she loved–the man she would always love. No matter what. Their souls would find each other someday, in another world. They were meant to be together, after all. How else could one explain the same man falling in love with Buffy two hundred and forty years apart?
“Good bye,” Buffy whispered. “I love you.” For what felt like the second time–though she had never physically left her Angel–she turned and walked away from a silent lover, walked into the darkness of the night. Walked and walked and kept walking until she fell into that darkness.