...It Would End Like This...

Buffy’s moan of anguish started softly. “Father…no…you can’t be…no.” The world came undone in one moment of indiscretion, one moment of weakness. “Father Marion!”

Oblivious to her cries, his crumpled body remained still. However, someone else responded to her piteous whisper.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May you rot in hell, Father.”

Buffy’s glassy eyes took in the grinning vampire standing on the steps. The thin blade in his hand still dripped with Father Marion’s blood. She watched dumbly as each ruby drop slid down the wicked metal. Obscenely, the innocent offering splashed onto the concrete steps.

“You can’t be gone…you just can’t.” Her gaze wavered back to the fallen priest. The dark pool of blood beneath his head grew wider. “No…”

“You crying for him, Slayer? Good. Master Angelus would want it that way. I’ll be sure to tell him.”

Angelus! Buffy’s terrible moan ended in a hysterical scream. “NOO!!!”

Heartless laughter stained the air. “Cry for your dead priest, Slayer! Cry for him, baby. It makes me sooo hard.”

The lethargy chaining Buffy’s limbs broke loose. She sprang forward, revenge taking over her heart. Tackling the murdering vampire, Buffy seized the knife from his struggling hand. Without hesitation, she jammed it into his neck and pulled.

Ash exploded in the dying air along with her scream. “BURN IN HELL!”

Revenge was done, but it did nothing to calm Buffy’s raging spirit. She dragged in huge gulps of air, feeling no matter how much she breathed in, it wasn’t enough. Her body craved further retribution even as she collapsed to her knees. If I could kill him again, I would.

Bits of dust floated about, landing on Buffy’s hair and arms. The knife’s handle dug into her flesh. She felt the priest’s blood stain her hands. Buffy tried swallowing but the pain was too great. When she dared to look to her left, a muffled cry escaped. “You c-can’t be dead,” she whispered piteously. “N-Not you.”

But he was.

And she knew it.

With a broken cry, Buffy flung the knife away. “Why him?! He didn’t deserve this!” Her frenzied gaze speared the church accusingly. “Where were you, God?” she demanded in a hoarse growl. “Why didn’t you protect him?” When her small hands tightened into fists, Buffy’s rage died a defeated death.

Her fingers were stuck together with Father Marion’s blood. His blood shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. He should’ve been safe in the church.

Buffy’s eyes grew blind to everything around her. However, the tears flooding them could not block out carmine. She brought her hands up and saw vivid proof of death. The crimson splotches staining all the little grooves in her skin made them damned and grotesque. Heavy tears slid down her white cheeks, breaking free only to splash across her tainted palms.

Tremors laid a fine web over Buffy’s body. Her bowed head raised as her hands lowered. I know why this happened…and I know who should’ve protected him. The fatal example of her flaws lay only a few feet away. Oh, Father…I’m sorry…

With a whimper, she crawled slowly to Father Marion’s body. Her hand reached out to touch his shoulder. Even through the layers of cloth she felt the absence of life. “I’m so sorry…I…” Buffy’s voice broke as a sob took its place. All the suffering burning her heart took on another cause.

The shrill sound of sirens came closer. She looked down the street in resignation. In a few minutes, the police would find him here, sprawled in cold murder. Father Marion’s death would be all over the papers and on the lips of everyone—if he lived in a normal town. Here, he would get a small corner, maybe in Section B. Murders were commonplace and his was only a slit throat.

Irrationally, Buffy felt enraged. She couldn’t leave him like this. Father Marion was her friend and mentor. He didn’t deserve to be left as a vulgar offering in front of his church. He didn’t deserve for the police to tag him and bag him out here. Not here.

Her face screwed up in a grimace. She took a deep breath and turned Father Marion over. She had tried to prepare herself, but what little strength she built up collapsed. Although his face was relaxed in repose, the blood smearing his chin, cheeks, and mouth proved it was eternal.

Buffy’s expression turned haggard as she whispered, “You deserved more. You deserved your life. You deserved…”

Immediately guilt rushed in, taking over the helpless pain. “You deserved my focus.” Even though she knew he couldn’t hear her, Buffy desperately needed to declare her confession out loud. “Instead of crying like a stupid bitch, I should’ve seen, felt, that vamp coming. You deserved the Slayer.” The effort of holding another wave of tears showed on her drawn face. “I-Instead you g-got me. And I’m so sorry! You deserved me feeling for someone other than…other than…HIM!! I wish I was better, Father. I wish I wasn’t me!”

Buffy laid her head across his chest as muffled screams fought their way past her constricted throat. What was the use of having Slayer abilities if she couldn’t protect the ones she loved? What was the use of being Buffy if she failed those who counted on her?

She should have seen it coming.

She should have stopped it.

She should have been stronger.

“Strength, Buffy. You must have strength.”

Father Marion’s words echoed with ghostly purpose in her fractured mind. Buffy screwed her eyes shut even as she responded to his voice. I won’t leave you out here. Dragging in a shuddering breath, she sat up and wrapped her arms around his chest. With little physical effort, she lifted him up. Buffy inhaled deeply and began dragging him into the church.

Buffy shut the heavy doors just as the sirens wailed pass. As she stood there in indecision, the empty, dimly lit interior did nothing to comfort her. Some part of her mind acknowledged what she just did was against the law. Buffy tightened her arms around Father Marion and shook her head. I can’t turn back now.

Seeing the chapel doors ahead, she quickly made her decision. She pulled him along by walking backwards. The sound of his shoes scrapping against the stone floor whispered condemnation in Buffy’s ears. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

The double doors swung open beneath her touch, revealing an empty, candlelit chapel. She felt relief, not thinking until this moment what she would’ve done if there had been any parishioners. Hurrying to the pulpit area, Buffy laid the priest’s body down carefully.

The candles danced solemnly, whispering her name in blame. Cold tendrils of air snaked about Buffy’s legs. Rough shivers seized her naked frame, reminding the grief-stricken girl she was without clothes. That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but this. Looking down at her feet, she winced violently. Father Marion’s black clothes couldn’t disguise the gruesome patterns of blood on his front.

Buffy sank down with a groan. Burying her face in her hands, she let loose to the emotional agony swirling inside.

What do I do now? What am I going to do?

Buffy gave a brief thought to what she where she was supposed to be at this moment. Maybe the party had already started without her. The idea of leaving the church just to go to the Bronze struck Buffy with supreme ridiculousness. Dragging the back of her hand across her eyes, she let out a muffled snort of misery. How was she supposed to go on as if nothing had happened? How was she going to go home tonight and pretend that her world hadn’t just ended?

Hiccups pushed their way up her throat. Buffy dropped her head back as she struggled to breathe. The wooden-beamed vaulted ceiling swam beneath the weight of her never-ending tears. Eventually she was going to have to leave Father Marion. Eventually.

Buffy’s gaze slid down to the still body next to her. Leave him? No, I can’t leave him. No! Swallowing her pain, she shifted her legs and lifted Father Marion’s head onto her knees. Buffy wrapped her arms around his torso tightly. She bent her head over his and screwed her eyes shut.

Part of her rational mind knew she needed to at least call Giles. Her Watcher would know what to do. He would direct her, in his efficient, controlled way, and she would obey. If she called him right now, Giles would probably tell her to leave the church, to walk away and report to him immediately.

Buffy’s self-hatred rose up to swallow her whole. Giles. Giles…I killed him. I killed him because I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t good enough. It’s my fault. Mine. Hysterical laughter filled the hallowed room. Buffy’s demented joy lay in frightening contrast against the lifelessness in her eyes. Her gaze sped across the chapel, searching the shadows and windows for an answer. Buffy’s defeated spirit spied the large crucifix on the wall.

In an instant she lost her grief and found rage.

“I thought I could do it all!” she shouted at the cross. “I thought I could lie and still be good. I’m such a head-case! What was wrong with me? Huh? Didn’t I know better? Isn’t there a reason for how Slayers live? Who was I to think I could change it? Who was I to think I could lay down with a demon and not come up tainted?”

“Is this my punishment?” Her hazel eyes narrowed as she continued to vent her bile. “Come on! Why aren’t you laughing at me? Stupid Slayer failing because she was too stupid to know better than to fall in love with Angelus! Stupid Slayer too brain dead to know her love wasn’t really love. Stupid Slayer crying like a baby while her friend cuts his throat slashed in front of her!”

“STUPID SLAYER! STUPID SLAYER! STUPID! STUPID!! STUPID!!!”

The chapel rang with Buffy’s screams. Shadows painted the walls in living color. The mournful Christ stared down on his audience, seeming to say, “Your anger has no place here. Suffering is our birthright. It is all we know how to do. I can’t help you find mortal joy. I can only guide you to immortal salvation.”

“You knew it should’ve never been me! I wasn’t cut out for saving the world and all that stuff. I’m just some ditzy blond from L.A.” Buffy’s voice closed up. The dead man’s words came to haunt her.

“All I can tell you, Buffy, is the same thing I’ve told you before---your life is out of balance. Even now you’re spinning out of control and I can’t help you. Not if you’re unwilling to stop the madness.”

“I never deserved your trust. I’m just a failure. I always knew it.” She bent her head and carefully brushed back Father Marion’s hair. “You should’ve known it too,” she whispered.

Buffy almost expected him to open his eyes and smile the gentle smile she knew so well. Instead, his blood dried and began flaking off her stomach.

The minutes wore on in mournful silence. Buffy’s skin lost its battle with the cold. Instead, it became numb. So numb she couldn’t feel the shivers dominating her frame. Time slowed down to a tired trickle until it stopped. Buffy wanted to freeze as well.

She knew she couldn’t stay here. She knew she would need to leave before the police could implicate her in this brutal crime. She knew it.

But knowing and doing were two different things.

A scraping noise slyly drew Buffy’s unwilling attention. Her defeated gaze lifted and stared into the shadows. Rows of empty pews spanned her vision before something snagged her notice. The massive doors swung shut slowly but not before allowing someone in.

Buffy’s arms twitched spasmodically. Her gut fluttered once. Her heartbeat filled her throat and she refused to believe what was coming.

Dark as sin, black as hate, a tall, broad figure walked gracefully towards her.

Buffy’s eyes widened. She clutched the cool body in her arms tightly. A whisper fell from her lips in numb lamentation. “Angelus?”

The sound of boots clicking against the floor drowned out the adrenaline beating in her ears. Buffy’s first reaction was one of misplaced relief and volatile comfort. He came. Second came disbelief. How can he be here? This is a church. He shouldn’t be able to come past the door. Then memory returned and spurned hatred took over everything.

“You son-of-a-bitch! You did this, didn’t you?!” Although she didn’t dare disturb Father Marion’s body, it was clear who and what she meant.

The shadowed figure remained silent. His steps continued to come towards her.

“How could you? How could you have him killed?! Was it to punish me? Huh?!” Buffy’s hoarse screams had no effect. Instead, they drew him nearer. Closer and closer he came, his boots growling the sound of doom.

“I hate you, Angelus! I swear to God I hate you!” Bitter tears of rage streamed down her pale cheeks. “He didn’t deserve this—Father Marion never did anything to you!”

Each moment brought the looming figure one less step away from his prey.

Buffy’s throat closed up as the frenzy threatened to consume her. “I’ll make you pay for his death, Angelus! Do you hear me? I will make you PAY!”

The rustle of cloth assaulted her senses. He began his wordless ascent up the few stairs to the pulpit.

In other circumstances, his silence would have filled Buffy with fear. No longer. Contemptuously she asked, “Too good to tell me to shut the fuck up, lover?” He gave her no answer. “You think just because you slimed your way into this holy place that I won’t be able to end you? Wrong.”

The steps stopped. The air became charged with an inexplicable energy. Buffy could feel the static dart up and down her arms. Unnerved but unwilling to show it, she clutched her precious friend closer. “He tried to tell me you were worth loving, did you know that? But he was wrong. It was a mistake for you to ever be here, Angelus. A mistake! If I could take back that night with Angel—I would.”

The immortal specter finally spoke.

“Would you really?” His inflection was neutral, without the usual arrogance. “Would you take back everything from the last three months?”

“Yes!” Buffy’s reply was immediate and fervent.

He shifted closer. Candlelight fell upon his face. His coal-black eyes were dull and lifeless.

Unmoved by his beauty, Buffy stared at his flawless countenance in loathing. “I wish I had never heard your name, Angelus. I wish I never carried this bond. I wish you were dead!”

“Put it down, Buffy,” he asked softly while gesturing to Father Marion’s corpse.

“No!”

“Please…put that body down.” His eyes gleamed an eerie plea.

“Dead first, Angelus!” she snarled in reply.

A tragic grimace marred the pale perfection of his features. He lifted his hand. A ball of blue energy swirled forth from his palm.

Buffy eyed him warily, acknowledging the fear shaking through her veins, but refusing to give into it. “Is that how you did it? Is that how you got in here? Learned some new tricks, learned to take the term blue balls to another level?”

He didn’t bother to serve her biting taunt with a reply. Instead, the orb shot forth. Before Buffy could force her limbs into action, they froze in place. Straining against the invisible hold, she watched in horror as the enigmatic ball entered Father Marion’s body.

Blue light glowed from beneath his pasty skin. The light grew brighter and brighter until it turned white.

“W-What are you…s-stop!” Buffy’s words were stunted in command. The force freezing her body also had hold of her vocal cords. What the hell is he doing?! It can’t be good. Damnit! I can’t move my legs…arms…nothing! There’s gotta be a way for me to get out of this. There has to be a way…

He lifted his hand again. Living bolts of power arced from his fingers across to Buffy. Her scream came out as a pitiful mewl. Father Marion’s dead form floated away from her lap and into the air. Buffy turned her gaze towards her lover’s form as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

The tear did not go unnoticed. His inscrutable gaze met hers. He correctly read the panic and impotence lacing her hazel orbs.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going to see.”

Without further warning, the suspended body exploded into ash.

“NOOO!” The power holding her immobile lifted. Buffy sprang up with an articulate cry of agony. With desperate arms she reached for Father Marion only to come away with ephemeral flakes. Much like the vampires she staked nightly, he too showered the air. She saw his gentle face crumble away and then he was gone.

Someone so pure, so good, and so right looked no different than a demon.

Buffy bowed her head, leaving it in profile. “Why?” she whispered in torment. “Is hate all you know?” Her clenched fists opened. Father Marion’s remains floated down to the floor of his church. The sight brought a pained grimace to her face. “You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t. He should’ve had a funeral. The people who loved him should’ve had a chance to say goodbye. Can’t you understand that?”

“Its purpose was over. That body would not be missed, Buffy.”

She flew towards him in rage. “Monster! You had no right!”

A melancholic smile touched his lips briefly. He lifted his hand again and Buffy’s limbs returned to an immobile state. “I had every right.” With another gesture, Buffy rose in the air.

She watched the dark interior shifted. A jumbled mosaic of color passed her gaze before the world turned to black. With effort she looked up and saw Angelus’ face. She was pressed against him and there was nothing she could do to move away.

He brought his head down. Buffy’s vision swam dizzily as his lips came for hers. “No,” she groaned in revulsion as she closed her eyes. When he kisses me I’ll be lost. I know it. No matter how much I hate him, I’ll give in when he does this. I know it.

Cold lips lay claim over warm ones. With very little pressure, Buffy’s mouth opened to receive his tongue. Expertly he performed the possessive kiss that always melted her resistance. Their embrace lasted several minutes before he pulled away.

Buffy’s eyelids lifted. She stared up into the familiar orbs staring down on her. I don’t understand. Her body remained cold and unmoved. The pounding in her veins signifying her compulsive need to feed Angelus was absent.

Then the truth blossomed in her mind like a poisoned flower.

Buffy’s eyes darkened in horror. “You’re not Angelus.”

He didn’t answer her accusation.

“Who are you?!” Her scream barely rose above a croak.

He touched her cheek gently. “You know who I am.” His hand dropped only to reach out and grip her arm. “You know I was coming tonight.”

Buffy’s heart clenched in agony. Her mind succumbed to mindless terror. Her lungs began contracting faster and faster. “No. No. No.” When his other hand took possession of her unclaimed arm, she would’ve buckled if it weren’t for the supernatural force holding her upright. “You can’t be!”

His dark eyes mirrored her grief. “No one could’ve stopped me from my task, Buffy. No one but you and Angelus.”

“Acrymydion is no longer a threat.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Ms. Calendar and I found a loophole.”
“And you two found it?”
“We did.”
“And because of the loophole I’m out?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”

“Acrymydion.” Her whisper betrayed the inevitable doom seizing her soul. “You’re real. You’re here. You’re not supposed to be here but you’re really here.”

Pity touched the perfect mimic of Angelus’ brow. “I’ve always been here, Buffy. You just never knew it.” His hands tightened on her flesh. “Call for him,” he murmured softly. “Call for him like I taught you. Call for him now, Buffy.”

Trapped beneath an overwhelming grip, Buffy felt her skin sizzle. The pain pushed through her hesitation. Clenching her eyes shut, she mentally screamed one name. “ANGELUS!”

UPDATED APRIL 6, 2005

Angelus collapsed onto the ground. His vision grew dangerously black and the only thing he could hear a heartbeat. Buffy’s heartbeat. It beckoned frantically. It screamed his name with every pulse.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his body up. She’s still alive. She’s alive! He stumbled forward, her life being his will and reason to put one foot after the other.

The church lay on the night horizon like a fabled mirage. Sirens echoed in the distance, annoying Angelus beyond comprehension. I can’t hear Buffy with all that fucking noise! Her screams and the sirens almost sound the same.

Screams.

The word broke free in his mind. She’s screaming. Buffy is screaming!

Angelus shuffled along the pavement like an old man. His desperation lay exposed like a bloody wound on his face. Anyone watching would know his terror. He didn’t care. All he cared about was reaching his precious girl. She needed him and that was the only thing that mattered.

Buffy’s in the church. She’s in there with something. Something I’m going to destroy.

The panicked vampire didn’t think about why his body was so weak. He didn’t consider the potential danger in entering so holy a place. Wearing a crucifix, while an incredible feat in itself for someone of his clan, didn’t compare to walking in a building filled with objects of God.

Angelus did not give a holy fuck.

Steep, stone steps glimmered eerily in the night’s light. The stench of blood and tears battered his nose. Looking down, he saw a large crimson pool streaking the concrete, along with a discarded piece of fabric. Him. Ash flakes littered the scene. Even if her scent didn’t permeate the air, Angelus would’ve known Buffy had killed his assassin. In other circumstances, he’d probably be cursing the effects of too much liquor.

Now, he fiercely wished Marion was human enough to murder.

Fear again took hold of Angelus’ body, even though he refused to acknowledge it as such. Instead, he grabbed the iron banister with shaky hands. Pulling himself up step by step, he began chanting, “Just hold on, Baby. I’m coming.” The metal creaked beneath his desperate grip as the enormous doors swam before him. He was reminded suddenly of his Italian masterpiece.

“You gotta wait for me, Buff,” Angelus panted with a trembling smile. “I’m going to replace my doors—the ones you broke. Remember? Remember how you fucked them up when I bonded you? Well, you have to pick them out. You have to be with me, Baby. You have to be with me when they get taken down from whatever castle I buy them from. You have to be there when they get hung up. You have to…”

Buffy’s growing whimpers of terror lashed his mind. He buckled onto the unforgiving concrete, spraining both wrists. Vaguely, he noted the bones’ slow healing process. Angelus buried the dull pain and concentrated on regaining his stance. “I’m almost there, Darling. Hold on. Hold on for me.” Each sentence carried a heavy pause. “Don’t lose. You hear me? Don’t lose to this piece of shit hiding behind the cloth. You’re stronger than that. You’ve taken me on—there’s nothing that can be worse than me.”

He swayed drunkenly. The possibility of being denied entrance couldn’t be welcomed in his mind. Whatever Angelus wanted he got. Nothing could stop him. Not a stupid prophesy, not a fleeing mistress, and certainly not a pile of ridiculous bricks. “You’re not going to keep me out, Yahweh. You better get that now.” Angelus mulishly lowered his head and reached for the handle.

Boils didn’t erupt on his skin. No horde of avenging angels appeared to meet him. The skies didn’t part to unleash a torrent of fire.

Instead, the metal remained cold to the touch.

Angelus pulled the latch. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. He squinted his eyes and felt the room spin. Leaning against the doorjamb, Angelus held up his hand. Violent tremors made it shake. He felt as if all the energy in his body was rapidly seeping away.

Was he dying?

A sick grimace twisted Angelus’ mouth. After everything he had done as a conscienceless vampire, death was something he kept close company with. But this was something he couldn’t have expected.

Death by staking? Yes. Death by torture. Obviously. Death by boredom? Why not?

Death by bonding? No damned way.

Dropping his arm, he fought to keep his senses. It can’t end like this. It CAN’T! Buffy let out another moan. Her fragile misery pounded into his brain.

Then all went silent.

The door thudded behind him as he lurched forward. Panic consumed him. It soon erupted into terror. With terror came anger. His suffocating emotions started burning away his frailty.

“Damn, bitch! Why didn’t you tell me?” he hissed while moving steadily towards the chapel doors. “Instead of crying and whining, you should’ve just been up front! Now look where we’re fucking at?! How can you be such a kick Slayer, but a total moron when it comes to yourself? Plus, now you’ve dragged me into this!”

Hadn’t he always suspected Buffy Summers would be his downfall? Not surprisingly, self-preservation reared its demonic head.

LEAVE THE BITCH TO HER OWN FATE!

Angelus’ anger wilted. He stopped only a few yards away from his goal. “No…”

WHATEVER IS HAPPENING TO HER IS FUCKING YOU UP!”

“Can’t leave…she needs me…”

GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!!!

“I won’t leave!” Angelus shouted. Buffy’s erratic heartbeat took over, silencing the darkness inside his mind. He welcomed the precious proof of her life with all his being. I’m not too late. I can do this. I have to do this! Angelus pushed his body past numbness and fell towards the doors. Without hesitation, he threw them open and charged in—ready to kill anything that came his way—when his feet froze in place.

“What…in…the HELL?”

Standing at the other end of the aisle, another Angelus was holding Buffy in a macabre mimicry of tenderness. The creature was a perfect replica of himself, a flawless copy, from the inky tips of his gelled hair down to his booted feet.

Seeing himself would’ve unnerved Angelus if he weren’t so focused on Buffy. The shock contorting her face overshadowed everything else—even the state of her nakedness. Suddenly Buffy’s eyelids closed and her body went limp. Angelus’ features shifted, fangs promising retribution. “Let go of my woman! NOW!!!”

“Woman? Don’t you mean whore? Isn’t that how you prefer to think of this precious girl—as a whore?” Acrymydion shifted Buffy in his arms, turning her so that her front wouldn’t be exposed to the vampire’s gaze.

Angelus narrowed his eyes in absolute rage. The message was obvious: “You can’t look at Buffy because I have her now.”

“Silent. How can this be?” the creature asked in amusement. “You’re known for your crude commentary. Surely you haven’t decided to turn over a new leaf at this late hour?”

Angelus stalked down the aisle, flexing his claws. Even the false copy’s pitch matched his. Smug arrogance oozed from every word, just like it did with his. Suddenly, the sound of his own voice made him sick.

“Crude. I’ll give you crude. Woman. Whore. Doesn’t make much difference except you left out the most important word: my. She’s MY woman. MY, got that?”

“Just like Druscilla is?”

“More so.” Angelus stopped at the base of the pulpit. He didn’t dare look away from the monster before him—even though it held Buffy.

“Somehow I don’t doubt that. Although, Druscilla you’ve kept, while this one…you throw away.” Acrymydion adjusted Buffy’s position and she let out a small whimper. In response, he crooned softly in her ear. She quieted immediately.

The possessiveness of the gesture threatened Angelus. Not because it was lustful, but because it wasn’t. His twin held Buffy as if she were an adored child. One he had no intention of giving up.

I have to go very careful here. Very careful. Refusing to allow his disquiet to show, Angelus followed his familiar script. “What I do with my property is my business. So let her go and I’ll kill you quickly. Try to keep Buffy from me and I’ll tear your arms off. And that’s just for starters.”

“And then?” The calmly spoken question reeked of curiosity—instantly inflaming Angelus’ volatile temper.

“And then you die!” He dug his claws into his palms. The pain helped fight off the insidious numbness threatening to send him crashing into the ground.

“How can you kill me, Angelus?” Acrymydion asked gently. “How can you kill a martyr?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I gotta keep him talking. Let him talk himself into a mistake. Then I’ll get him.

“You strike at me—I grow stronger. You slay my physical body, you give me immortality. That is the martyr’s reward.”

“Is that why you’re after her? You think to kill her and give her everlasting fame?”

Acrymydion smiled. “That bothers you.”

Once more, it disgusted Angelus to see his reflection. “No shit. It bothers me when someone else decides to kill my mistress. If you weren’t some freak demon, you’d know that.”

The enigmatic creature took no offense at the obvious insult. Instead he asked, “What bothers you more? The fact that I’m going to kill her or that you won’t?”

Going to kill her? Like hell. Angelus kept silent. He couldn’t let a flicker of weakness show. “You tell me.”

Acrymydion sighed dramatically. “Why play these games? They serve no purpose, Angelus. They really don’t.” He shook his head in rebuke. “You think to keep me talking in order to find my weakness. You can’t find it.”

A wicked smile glinted in the half-light. “So said many, many others before you, padre.” Is this fucker in my mind or not? I can’t tell.

The twin nodded his head in satisfaction. “You figured it out—with Druscilla’s help I imagine. Poor child. She’s suffered so much for you, yet she adores you like an abusive father. Adores you enough to help when she should be shoving a stake into your miserable chest.”

“Dru or Buffy?”

“Both actually, but I was speaking of Druscilla.” Acrymydion walked forward and settled himself on the top step, after adjusting Buffy across his lap. Her head lay perfectly in the crook of his neck. His hand began stroking her tumbled hair with gentle affection.

Angelus’ teeth clicked loudly against each other.

Lifeless ebony met its counterpart. “You can’t stand to see her with anyone else, can you?” Acrymydion pointed out wisely. “It makes you sick. So sick that you were willing to kill an innocent priest for it.”

“Innocent? Hah! How the hell are you so innocent? You passed yourself off as her friend, as someone Buffy could trust. But in the end, all you want is her blood.”

“Just like you.”

“No! Not like me! I never lied to Buffy about who and what I was!” The vampire’s instinctual explosion made him wince. Shit! Not only have my legs turned to mush, but apparently my brain too.

“Really? You’ve forgotten about the first time in the cemetery, Angelus?” Acrymydion watched the barb strike with perfect precision. “That was a dirty trick you played on Buffy. You lied to her. Made her think you let out the other side of yourself.”

“Other side?” The sneer in Angelus’ voice rang throughout the chapel. “There is no other side.”

An expression of pity pulled the side of Acrymydion’s mouth. “That lie should never have been told—but your clan doesn’t seem to mind. After all, it makes it easier for you to be monstrous if you believe you have no soul to keep you in check. No wonder you’re the worst of the bunch.”

“I don’t have a soul. Never had.” What the hell is this idiot trying to insinuate? That Angel and Angelus don’t exist? That we’re one in the same? Bullshit.

“It’s not bullshit, Angelus. You’re one. It’s always just been a question of conscience.”

Sharp laughter burst from his mouth. “You’re crazier than I am if you believe that crock!” Despite the disdain in his tone, Angelus’ estimation of Acrymydion rose to perilous proportions. The first time might have been a coincidence, but there was no mistaking the situation now. The creature was in his mind.

“Why are you purposely ignorant, Angelus? We all have two sides—you know that. You’ve spent all your energy these past months trying to bring it out in Buffy. You want to see her dark side, you want her to be just as dirty as you are.”

“One doesn’t have anything to do with the other.” In spite of his waning strength, Angelus tensed his legs in preparation for a deadly leap.

Acrymydion pinned the vampire down with one glance. “Yes it does! You are not a demon, Angelus. There is no Angel out in the heavens looking down on you. You are not rubbing your dominance of Buffy in his face—only yours. Why do you think you feel as if your mind is being torn apart? All those days spent without rest, shooting from one extreme to the other, punishing Buffy, loving her…you know what I’m saying is true!”

“Ha! True? You dumb bastard—everything you’re saying could pass for true except for one thing. Gypsy curse.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong? Me? No. Wrong you? Yes.” Angelus felt his knees begin to shake. He internalized the agony and let his voice do all the swaggering. “You see, padre, I had all the classic symptoms—pain in the gut, delirium, and a sudden lack of giving a crap. And, don’t forget about the gold crap sparkling in these here eyes. Put together you know what all that means? No? That’s a soul being ripped away from its body.”

“I agree with you—the curse was real. Only they couldn’t remove your soul. Just your conscience. The gold was just for effect.”

“Conscience, huh? So the difference between a vampire like me and a human like her is conscience? Funny. I didn’t know conscience, or a lack thereof, had the power to grow fangs.”

“Don’t be cute. Vampirism is a molecular change, passed on like a virus. Conscience is just one of the things that tend to shrink with omnipotence. Especially when you have the kind of baggage you carry.” Acrymydion waited for a caustic response but received only hate-filled silence. “But vampirism isn’t why you became the Scourge. You were going to be this way, Angelus, even if you hadn’t crossed paths with Darla. Being a vampire only magnified the process.”

“So I would’ve been a serial killer all the way out in the boonies of Ireland,” Angelus drawled.

“Maybe.” Acrymydion tilted his head in curiosity. “Answer something for me, Angelus. You think vampirism is mystical enough to snatch souls away, but you made no protest at hearing it in scientific terms. Why?”

“Maybe because I’m not stupid—which is something you would do well to remember.”

Acrymydion sighed. “Dealing with you is such a trial. I don’t see how Buffy can stand being in your presence, much less feel any kind of warm emotion for you.

“No one asked you to come. No one asked for you to stick your nose in my business. So why bother caring for me at all?”

“Who says I do?” The thin smile tweaking Acrymydion’s lips made Angelus recoil. How many times had he tossed that grin at Buffy? How many times had he made her suffer his lack of love? His gaze slid to her unconscious form. A living, breathing memory rose up and rebuked him.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that I wanted to live so much because of you and this is what I get.”
“What does that mean?”
“No. I don’t deserve this. You have no heart.”
“That’s because I’m not weak like you, Buff.”
“If I’m weak, it’s because of you! YOU’RE the one who wants me to crawl to you like a pet every night. YOU’RE the one who needs me to suffer pain before pleasure! And YOU’RE the one who taught me to like it too! Fuck you, Angelus, because YOU’RE the one who needs me to be like this!”

And it was true. Now more than ever, Angelus understood what Buffy had meant. She knew she was going to face this thing and she knew it was going to be alone. Stupid bitch! You should’ve come to me!

Angelus’ rage dwarfed into a pitiful cinder.

He should’ve known. He should’ve realized what had been happening. And he should’ve never, ever said those things to her.

No. Can’t let this fucker mess with my head. I don’t have a conscience. Only a demon—one who is getting louder and louder. Damn Angel! Damn him for this!

“Angel? Even after everything I’ve just told you, you still choose to cling to that tired myth? Angel is a ghost. He was real then as you are now.” Acrymydion took a moment to look into Buffy’s unconscious face.

“Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he growled menacingly. Angelus was growing dangerously tired of hearing the other being’s judgments and proclamations. His ability to control his emotions was beginning to fray.

“It means that neither of you were entirely real and this poor girl doesn’t even know. She doesn’t even know that eventually Angel’s mask would’ve cracked.” Acrymydion looked up. “But you knew it. You knew what you wanted to do with her. You knew how you wanted to give into those shameful desires. Beneath every gentle kiss you gave Buffy, there was something voracious dying to break free. That’s why you bought that building in L.A. That’s why you were going to leave her.”

“Not me. HIM,” Angelus gritted out in rage. Acrymydion’s smooth voice was flowing into his wounds like beguiling poison. It was burning him from the inside, but the less he needed to hear him, the more he wanted to.

Acrymydion keenly observed every twisted bit of Angelus’ psyche. The tortured vampire was never going to willingly submit to Fate. He knew it long ago, yet like the human he once was, Acrymydion had been compelled to try to force Angelus’ hand.

He should’ve known better.

“The only enemy you have is yourself. The only one you hate for taking Buffy’s virginity is yourself. The only one you hate for loving Buffy is yourself.”

“Shut up.” The two words were concise, giving no hint of the madness lurking beneath.

“Why do you fear love so much, Angelus? Why does it make you tremble like a little boy before the switch?”

Angelus’ vampiric gaze sparked dangerously, like brilliant gold flashing in the shadows.

“Does Fiona haunt you after all this time? Or something more? Like the love you never got from you parents.”

“Aww, c’mon! Not psycho-babble!” he scoffed in disgust. “Do you really think I’m that sensitive?”

“Yes, I do.” Acrymydion’s frank admission silenced him, sending Angelus into defiant stillness. “When you died, your mother and father only mourned the scandal you left them with. It’s that lack of affection that drove you to love Fiona obsessively in life.”

“She meant nothing.” Detailed memories drew breath in Angelus’ splintered mind. Fiona’s scent drifted beneath his nose, while the softness of her cheek haunted his. The vampire’s hand found the power to move. Before he knew it, Angelus touched his face and a wounded expression full of human pain carved into his immortal flesh.

“Liar. Her coldness and contempt was your comfort, Angelus. The more she pushed you away, the more you wanted her. It was all you knew, wasn’t it? After all, who could ever love you? Certainly not your mother, not when you nearly killed her in labor. And your father, well how could he ever love such a sweet, soft, weak little boy? That’s why he loved Michael more and not you. Michael was everything you weren’t. Michael liked to bully and abuse those weaker than him—unlike you.”

The words poured out of the vampire’s mouth unbidden. “No. I mean…yes.” I mean…NO.” He shook his head, as if to clear away the phantom webs creeping across his fractured mind.

“You didn’t want to lose Fiona, but you did anyway, and to Michael. That must’ve stung. But not as much letting them get away with it.”

Angelus whipped his hand away. His tone echoed centuries-old vengeance. “Recheck your facts. I killed them both—very slowly I might add.”

“That you did. So what did you end up becoming?”

“Me.” Angelus couldn’t bear trudging through these dirty memories anymore. He just needed to get Buffy away, far away from Sunnydale, the Watchers, and everything that would embroil her in this shit again. Once gone, they could start over. Buffy would forgive him for his transgressions. He would make sure of it.

“Very good, Angelus. I see you’re making progress. That’s good. At least it gives Buffy some hope for her bleak future.”

Acrymydion’s sincerity made Angelus want to destroy something. A row of pews and a few stained windows would do nicely. The numbness in his body faded. Power flickered in his limbs. A few more moments and he’d be ready…

“It’s very good, but not enough. You won’t be able to take Buffy away from me.” Acrymydion’s arms tightened around the unconscious girl. “Not until I finish what I must do.”

Angelus tipped his head back. “I’m not going let you.”

“You don’t have a choice this time.”

“Choice? I don’t wait for choices. I make my own.” Without another word, Angelus rushed forward again, claws extended.

“Not this time you don’t.” Acrymydion leveled him with a serious stare, effectively freezing Angelus in mid-step. “You had a choice, Angelus. For three months, you had a choice.”

Struggling against his invisible bonds, the vampire’s eyes flashed murderously.

“If you had treasured her, loved her, the world would’ve been yours.”

“It is mine!”

“That’s not what I mean.” Disappointment created a flawless face of regret. “Of all the worthy vampires walking this planet, why do you think Whistler choose you?” Rebellious silence met his question. “You were her key to freedom, just as Buffy was yours.”

“I’m free now!” Angelus spat. Given the present situation, his words seemed a bit ridiculous.

“No, you’re not. You won’t ever be free until you accept the feelings between you both.”

“The only thing I’ll accept right now are your guts on the ground.”

“Violence. When all else fails, that’s what you turn to.” Acrymydion’s disgust was very clear. “You changed her, she changed you, but you can’t stand it. It makes you crazed to know that you can’t walk away from Buffy unmoved. That piece of jewelry on your neck—how do you think that happened? Because you’re so devout? You know better.”

“I can wear the cross because of MY strength, MY power.

“Wrong. You can wear it because of her. Because part of her is in you. You went out of your way, training for months, enduring blisters and burns, just so you could be closer to fitting in Buffy’s world.”

“Wrong!” Angelus jeered in return. “I did it just so I could! You don’t know shit about me or my motivations.”

Acrymydion’s reply assaulted the vampire like gunfire. “I know that you never even appreciated the bond between you. I know your entire motivation concerning Buffy was to use the bond against her. I know that while it drew you closer, you always suspected the only reason why Buffy loved you at all was because of the chemicals between you.”

His final accusation rained down with fatality.

“Now everything you have, everything you think you treasure, is slipping away—and there isn’t anything you can do to stop it.”

“If it is, it’s because of Buffy.” As caustic as his voice was, Angelus’ head assumed a phantom throbbing. Nothing made sense anymore. Straining his arms, he growled in frustration.

“Wrong again! It’s because of YOU.” Like the crop Angelus favored on Buffy’s backside, Acrymydion’s words lashed mercilessly. “She was a precious gift, one in an eternity, Angelus. Instead of cherishing Buffy, what did you do? You dehumanized her. You became Fiona.”

“That’s bull!” It enraged Angelus beyond reason to be compared to that faithless bitch.

“You dangled the promise of your affection in front of Buffy, knowing her love for you is so great she’ll do anything to make you love her back. Even if it means destroying herself.”

Before he could deny it graphically, Buffy’s girlish voice whispered from sleeping lips. “No matter how I try to connect to the people I care about, I’m completely alone. No matter how many times I lie, I only make things worse. No matter what I do to keep them safe, I can’t seem to make the right decision. No matter how normal I try to pretend to be, I’m still me.”

“And no matter how much I try to hate you, I still can’t. Why?” As abruptly as it began, her voice stopped its poignant recitation.

Angelus screwed his eyes shut. He vividly remembered when Buffy had first uttered those hopeless words. Right after our fight in the cemetery. The one Willow and Xander saw. The sight and sound of her pain sickened him. Knowing he was the cause…

“I’ve never lied to her about my feelings,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m incapable of loving anyone. She knows that.”

“Liar! Admit it, Angelus. You love her.”

“No!”

“You do. That’s why you came. You’re here to keep me from killing Buffy because you love her.”

“No, I don’t!”

“The thought of Buffy dying here and now makes YOU want to die.”

“Not true!”

Acrymydion shifted Buffy. He placed one hand on her chin and the other on the back of her head. Angelus immediately recognized the deadly position. He began fighting his bonds even more intensely.

“No?” A thin smile curved the false mouth. “Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” he snarled in a strained voice.

“How many times have you done this, Angelus? Ten? Hundred? A thousand? How many times have you blown out the candle with just your hands?”

As expected, Acrymydion’s pointed questions sprang Angelus’ heartless past to life. Not once had he ever been a helpless witness to this type of murder. Not once had he ever been forced to watch the light go out—a light he needed and wanted.

His burning gaze looked up. Angelus saw himself holding Buffy, ready to snap her neck like any anonymous victim. Agony lanced his gut. Something red burned in his mind. Something fiery. Something that felt like shame.

“Tell me what you really want!” he finally howled in caged misery. “You didn’t come all the way out here just so you can poke into her love life! You really want to kill Buffy? Then go for it like a decent demon would. If you don’t have the balls, then let her go. Either way, stop mind-fucking me.”

Acrymydion’s hands tightened in preparation.

Angelus’ gamble went bust. He hissed from sheer helplessness. Once more his ego and anger cost him. “Listen! You want me to take her place? One body is as good as another. Besides, she’s just a little girl—I’m a Master. Think of all the fun you can have with me…torture, maiming…I can take it. The game will last longer. C’mon!”

“Really. How’s that going to benefit me?” Acrymydion asked silkily. “I can break your neck all I want and you still won’t die. Beyond that, torture isn’t in my repertoire.”

Angelus’ stomach dropped. There was no more reasoning with him. Acrymydion was going to kill Buffy and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing.

Something inside the tortured vampire broke.

“Don’t you fucking do it!” he screamed hoarsely. “DON’T YOU DO IT!”

For the first time, the prophesized creature expressed equal rage. “Then for once in your godless existence, make your life worth something and tell me the truth!”

“Don’t you get it?! There’s nothing to tell!” Following Angelus’ garbled shouts, the air inside the chapel became charged with suffocating energy.

“Do? You? Love? Buffy?”

Angelus stopped his frenzied struggles. Memories of Buffy flowed inside his pained mind. From the first time he saw her in a dark alley until the moment she walked out of his suite at the Cavern, they all came to possess his being.

Her sweetness and smile teased his lips. Her girlish voice and expressive eyes tugged at his misery. From the very first “I love you” to the last “Fuck me harder!” they all played with bittersweet adoration.

Then Angelus remembered.

Only half the memories were his.

“You’re one. It’s always just been a question of conscience.”

Could it be true? No, no way. But if it was, then he’s right. We’re the same. I wouldn’t have to fight myself. I wouldn’t just be a thing. I would be…more. I would be worth something.

The burgeoning feelings of hope vanished as his thoughts continued.

I’d also know that everything I ever did wasn’t due to being a demon, but due to me. I’d truly be a monster…So what am I?

“I love you, Angelus.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you. I do.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“More.”
“I love you. I love you so much. So very much.”

The memory inspired heat inside his heart’s cavity. Buffy knows who and what I am. She knows and she loves me. That should count for something. It should! But…

Poised between embracing possibility and succumbing to cynicism, Angelus chose poorly. Unfortunately, his decision would affect Buffy and himself for years to come…

“No. I don’t love her.”

Buffy’s heartbeat thumped in the stillness, as if to recriminate her lover for betraying her once more. Both Acrymydion and Angelus felt pain at the represented fragility—for nearly the same reasons.

“You stupid, stupid man. After everything I’ve said, after all the agony you feel, you still stubbornly bleat the same thing. You think denying your love for her makes you man? You are NOT a strong man AND you don’t deserve her.” He dropped his pale hands away from Buffy’s face. “So you will deserve your suffering from this moment on.”

Acrymydion’s form shimmered. Light grew steadily. The blackness of Angelus’ appearance was switched by purity. White robes replaced leather. Chestnut locks overtook black. Blue orbs banished ebony. Heavenly chords echoed from Acrymydion’s throat. “You had one final chance to make this right.”

Angelus instinctively cringed and drew back. The brilliant light threatened to blind him. Looking at Acrymydion was like looking into true eternity.

“The nightmare that haunts you will happen. It didn’t have to be that way. Your dreams were but a possibility, a fictional glimpse of the convoluted darkness ahead. Tonight, you made them true.”

Penetrating fear froze Angelus’ face. All speech settled in his throat like a stone.

“Safe. You’re safe.”
“You came. They told me you wouldn’t.”
“Safe.”
“I’m sorry that I believed them.”
“I can’t risk you anymore.”
“Angelus?”
“Close your eyes, my love.”

“NOOOO!!!” Angelus screamed in demented agony as he threw his head back.

“I’m taking back the bond,” Acrymydion intoned from a great distance. “What was given in kindness will be revoked in vengeance.” Judgment tightened the ethereal being’s face as he delivered his final blow. “And you will watch and live it.”

An iridescent barrier appeared around Angelus. Before he could scream again, he saw Buffy stir. Every part of his body tightened in vain. Buffy, lover, don’t let this happen. Don’t! Fight him! Fight him now!

Acrymydion held his beloved victim close. “Wake up, Buffy. Wake up for just a moment.” Her lashes fluttered open. Confusion reigned in the muddled depths. He smiled kindly and murmured, “It’s time for your destiny.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she croaked out while trying to move away from his unknown embrace.

“You will,” the ethereal being promised while pressing a hand into her chest. “You will.”

Buffy’s eyes slid shut as overwhelming fatigue took control of her.

Angelus watched in helpless wrath as the supernatural fingers sank into Buffy’s pale skin. “Get the hell away from her! Do you hear me! Leave Buffy alone!!!”

Ignoring the vampire’s crazed demands, Acrymydion told a tale of possibility to the girl in his arms. “You could’ve had something different, Buffy. If you hadn’t followed Angelus that first night, you would’ve gotten through your loss. It would’ve been painful, but you would’ve done it. Eventually you would’ve turned to your loved ones, letting them share your burden. The guilt would’ve become less skewed and while your heart would remain his, you would’ve stayed true it.”

His hand stopped its descent. Buffy’s body pulsed once with brilliance before transforming into gossamer luminance.

“Angelus, however, would not do so well. He would’ve descended into madness, killing Jenny and torturing Giles, before eventually attempting to raise Acathla.”

Angelus stood trapped in the barrier. As much as he wanted to shout out denials, a shiver of truth scrapped across the blackness passing for his soul.

“Eventually you would’ve sent him into Hell, but not before his conscience shifted. The despotic opponent you knew would allow his other side to surface. After a farewell kiss, he would be gone. So would you.” A tragic smile lifted Acrymydion’s perfect lips. “But you’d come back. You’d come back and find a world no longer quite the same. So would he. Both of you would attempt to put the pieces back together, but that would only last for so long. After saving the world again, the lines of love would crack before splintering.”

Buffy’s body shuddered, naked limbs twisting and arching as if in response to his declaration. Acrymydion’s arm twitched and tremendous sadness stamped itself on his face. “Angel would’ve left you. You would’ve moved on. Apocalypses would come, you both would do your part, but in the end you’d both be alone. No matter who or what would be sharing your beds, you both would be completely alone.”

Acrymydion’s cobalt gaze slid to the barrier. While addressing Buffy, his sight stayed trained on Angelus. “Maybe it would’ve been better that way. This passion you share for one another now would only be whisper of this life there. You’d be able to convince yourselves that your hearts belonged elsewhere. Especially you, Buffy.”

The words lay in the air, pulsing and writhing with present expectation. Angelus stared back, disbelief and anger warring with one another inside his black orbs.

Acrymydion looked away and stared into Buffy’s now relaxed face. “But even I don’t possess the gift to change the past. Now this is where you are.” He sighed heavily before sharing, “You were never supposed to be the Slayer. Even now, we still don’t know how it came about. Some of us believe it’s a question of Fate. Most others feel it’s a horrible lapse in clerical duty. Maybe it is. Either way, you are the one wronged. You’re wronged because that mistake HAS to be corrected. The only way to do so is to call another Slayer.”

“That’s what this is about?! You don’t like this Slayer so you destroy her to bring another? Fuck you! She was too goddamned strong to get taken out any other way, so you bastards knife her in the back like this? After everything she’s ever done for this piece of crap planet we live on—this is how you fucking repay her?”

Acrymydion didn’t bother to answer Angelus’ ear-splitting screams. “Long before this day, I looked into your heart, Buffy. I looked to see what you most wanted in this world and I saw love. You wanted love more than anything else—more than power, wealth, pride, and security. But not anyone’s love. You wanted one man’s love or nothing at all.”

Angelus’ brows lowered. There could be no doubt whose love Buffy wanted. Angel.

“We tried to give you that love. Maybe that’s where we went wrong. We shouldn’t have interfered like this. We forced you and Angelus together through your bond. Some of us did as reparation for taking on the Slayer’s burden. I’m one of them. When this is all over, you might think I came to you as Father Marion in sadistic deception. That’s not true. I tried to help. Seeing where this was headed, I tried to get you to give him up. Failing that, I tried to help you take back your power.”

He let out a despondent laugh. “But that’s not how it works. No one can give you power. You can only grow it from within.” Acrymydion leaned close and whispered fiercely, “So I know you can hear me, Buffy. So please remember this last bit—it’s not your job to fix him.”

“Go fuck yourself! Better yet—don’t fucking talk to her! Don’t even fucking look at her!”

“Degrading yourself and compromising your dignity won’t ever make him the man you want, Buffy.”

“When I get free I’m going to skin you alive!” Angelus howled as he pounded on the barrier.

“He doesn’t want your love or strength. He doesn’t want you the way he should. He wants to keep you weak, as weak as he is.”

“I’m going to gut you and feed you the pieces!!”

“Don’t let him keep you in his cage. Open the door and walk out.” Acrymydion’s hand withdrew from Buffy’s chest. The skin above her heart bled in mournful rivulets. The blood was thick and black.

“SON-OF-A-BITCH!!” Buffy’s blood called to him. Not as a delectable meal, but as whisper of loyalty. “You’re going to pay for that,” he promised succinctly while kicking away at the invisible wall.

Acrymydion took the threats with pity. “I know it’s anti-climatic but there isn’t going to be a grand entrance on your part to stop me, Angelus. There will be no explosions, muttered spells, or huge martial arts fighting sequences. I’m not going to evaporate into thin air with the howls of my thwarted rage echoing after me. Buffy has fallen. Another Slayer will be called and the world will continue. There isn’t anything you can do. It’s already done.”

“Like hell it is!” As much as he pounded and strained against the barrier, it held fast. Eventually, he could feel his muscles become lead. The floor came up to meet his battered legs. Finally, he fell on his side. Where the hell is her pack? Don’t they know she needs them? Fucking parasites!

“They’re not coming, Angelus. We’re the triumvirate here. No one else.”

“I’m going…to…kill you.”

“No, you won’t.” Acrymydion laid Buffy down on the ground with gentle care. “Tonight, you’re just going to die. For better or worse, you two will share this together.”

Angelus couldn’t summon the energy to answer. He felt as if he were sinking into a black lake. All he could see and feel was terrible, mind-numbing cold. How’d it come to this? I don’t understand…

UPDATED APRIL 19, 2005

“Angel?”

Angelus looked up and saw Buffy staring at him. Her rosebud mouth pursed in confusion. “What are you doing here?” Poignant realization dawned on her. “Am I dead now?”

Glancing down, he saw their bodies lying on the chapel floor. “I don’t know.” Powerless fright filled the shaky whisper.

Buffy came closer and stood by his side. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Who?”

“Angelus. Why’s he down there?”

Staring at her profile, the question clicked with belated thoroughness. Buffy thought he was Angel. “Why do you care?” he asked gruffly.

“I love him. That’s why.”

“Do you really?”

Her hazel gaze braved his. “I’m sorry, Angel. I know it’s impossible to understand…”

“Is he really that unlovable?” The heated question cleanly sliced through her fumbling explanation.

“No.” Terrible grief stained her youth with the knowledge of a hard life. “It’s just that he doesn’t want me to love him. He hates it as much as he hates me.”

Angelus looked away in a gesture much like Angel’s. “I don’t think he hates you,” he murmured. “Not always,” he added quickly.

Buffy smiled with melancholic sentiment. “That’s just like I remember you—always trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m not!” Angelus’ sharp voice faded at the sight of her stricken face. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“Maybe.” She looked down and whispered, “But somehow I don’t think so.”

He didn’t know what to say. How could he deny Buffy’s thoughts when he spent all of his energy making her believe he loathed her?

“Do you hate me?”

The meek voice ruffled at the edge of Angelus’ sympathy. Somehow their surroundings magnified Buffy’s fractured spirit. But that’s the way I wanted her. Broken and abused! So how come it’s…it’s…hurting me to face my creation? Maybe I am just as stupid as he said I was. Angelus frowned blackly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I forgot.” Buffy reached out and brushed her fingers against his cheek. “I forgot you.”

“You never forgot me. Not once did you ever forget me. Every time you looked at Angelus, you thought of Angel.” While vehement, his accusation lacked heat. Instead, Angelus leaned his face into her fragile touch.

“No. That’s not true. At first it was, but later…all I could breathe was Angelus. I didn’t want to see you,” Buffy admitted with no small amount of guilt. “I wanted…NEEDED…to see him. I NEEDED to see myself reflected in his eyes. I wanted to be the only one he saw. I thought I was but then…then I found out I wasn’t.”

“And after you found out about…about Druscilla…what then? Does he still fill your heart and soul?” His throat closed in foreign misery. Somehow pride no longer seemed as sweet.

Buffy’s face crumpled in unspeakable shame and misery. “He fills my heart, but…”

“But what?”

“But he’s lost to me.” Blackness covered her spirit. “He cheated on me! He made a fool of me! He lied to me! He said things were never going to change and it was all a dirty lie!” Buffy’s mouth trembled with the force of her miserable rage.

Angelus’ knees buckled in despair. Staring down at his sprawled body, he saw death. Whether his body rose from the ashes of immortal defeat didn’t matter. Angelus had lost the keys to eternity.

Eternity wasn’t the night. Eternity was the love and loyalty of the girl beside him. And she no longer wanted to let him exist inside her bloody, beautiful box.

Buffy spoke suddenly.

“After you left, he was all I needed. I lived to make him happy. Please understand that I couldn’t let him slip away too, Angel.” Her hand fluttered away, unknowingly leaving him adrift and lost. “Sometimes, when I looked into his eyes, past the emptiness I saw something more than a vicious vampire.”

“What did you see, Buffy?” When Angelus saw her hesitation, he pressed forward. “Tell me. Please.” The humiliating words left a burn of weakness behind but somehow it didn’t matter so much. Her answer meant more.

More than pain, more than ego, and more than shattered dreams of eternity.

“I saw pain and sorrow. I saw loneliness. I saw unworthiness. I wanted to take that away from him. I wanted to make him happy.” Buffy closed her eyes. “But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and now I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Angelus—I won’t let you go.”

“I’m dead, remember?”

“Then so am I.” Angelus reached out and enveloped her small body in his arms. “If we’re dead, we’re dead together. If this is how it ends, then it ends with US together.”

“You’d take me back? After betraying you too, you’d take me back?”

The disbelief in Buffy’s soft voice enraged him. Angelus thrust her away, still keeping his hands on her, and snarled, “Don’t be stupid! How’d you betray anyone? You were just doing what you were told to do! I knew how to work you, press your buttons, manipulate your weakness—there’s no way you could’ve held up to me!”

“You? Not you—Angelus. Remember?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Buff? It’s not HIM.”

UPDATED APRIL 22, 2005

Hazel eyes bled in terrible disbelief. She looked down, finally seeing how the clothes on the body below matched the one before her. Buffy’s hand flew up to her mouth as she cried, “No! It can’t be.” When Angelus’ expression remained stoic, Buffy screamed while hitting him in the chest with both fists. “Where’s Angel? Where is he?!”

He made a grab for her wrists, only to come up empty. The attacked vampire backed away before swooping for his lover’s arms. “There is no Angel. Just me, Buff. Only me.” Angelus screwed his eyes shut. Eternity may be lost, but he couldn’t let it go without a fight. He needed Buffy too much. Right or wrong, he needed her and he was sure she needed him.

“How can you be here? You’re not a soul! You’re just a demon! You shouldn’t even be here!”

The accusation rankled, stung, peeling away the layers of his insecurity so effortlessly. “I know that…I think.” He shook his head. “I’m here. Apparently, I’m dying like you are.” His lopsided grin faded when it wasn’t reciprocated. “That’s all that counts.”

Instead of being comforted, she was horrified. “Why do you always do this to me?” Buffy yelled while struggling in his impassioned hold. “You’re always there! Always! Always there to see me weak, always there to make me cry! Even in death, you’re here to torment me! Why do you hate me this much?”

“I’m not here to torment you, Buffy. I’m not.” I don’t hate you now. I don’t. Angelus’ low voice took on a desperate edge. “I don’t mean to be like this. I don’t. I swear I don’t.” He bent over and whispered in her ear, “I need you. Don’t walk away from me. Please.”

“You can’t use me anymore. I can’t let you. Not now, not here!”

“I’m not using you, lover.”

“You’re scared, aren’t you? You scared of being alone, is that it?” she sneered spitefully. “What? Can’t get Druscilla to die with you? Go on. Find her. I’m sure she’ll shove a stake in her heart for you.”

“I don’t want Dru. Not like that.”

“Liar!” Tears dropped down to splash onto her captor’s cool skin. Buffy’s rage collapsed in on itself while she fought to escape his traitor’s embrace. “Why wasn’t I enough for you, Angelus?” Her raw voice exposed the tremendous agony festering inside her spirit. “Why did you have to be with her? WHY?!”

Angelus’ countenance became contorted as he struggled to hold in something powerful snaking up from his chest. The terrifying emotion shredded with the precision of a madman. “B-Because…” he gasped. “B-B-Because…”

“I loved you! I gave up everything for you! I turned my back on my morals, my family, my friends, and my Watcher! I did it for you!”

He couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. He couldn’t stand seeing the madness of grief lurking behind her tears. He couldn’t carry the burden of knowing all his glorious machinations had resulted in this atrocity. “I-I…Buffy…I-I’m…” It hurts. Something in me hurts so much. I’d swear it was my heart…but that can’t be. I haven’t felt like this in so long. Not since that last night…the last night before Darla came. “Buffy…listen—”

“No! I turned myself inside out for you. I became a weak, sniveling, whining girl for you!” Buffy’s tone lost its bitterness, becoming a pleading mewl. Her struggles ended and something shameful took over. Clinging to him, she admitted, “I learned to need the humiliation, Angelus. Can you understand that?”

Of course he did. How could he not? Didn’t his worthless, remorseless, jaded mind design it that way?

“The pain became a prelude to heaven. The more you hurt me, the more I felt. The more I felt, the more you did. The more you did, the more I could believe that one day, one night you’d tell me.”

Angelus felt past and present come together in a sickening kaleidoscope.

“Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes. I do.” Angelus knew because he had been Buffy. Maybe he still was. That heavenly being was right. Marion—whatever his name is—he knew. He saw me and knew. He understood what I never wanted to.

In his mind’s eye, Angelus could see clearly the fawning boy he had once been. He could still smell the aroma of Fiona’s favorite tea, her favorite fragrance. She had been everything to him. Everything. Long before he knew her name, Fiona had represented a future he so desperately wanted in a life where his sires despised him.

The conscious separation between Angel and Angelus fell to the wayside. Infinite pain radiated throughout his body, killing all the maniacal evil by giving it a name: miserable, vulnerable victim.

Every night as a small child he had prayed for happiness in life. After the beatings, the nights without supper, he had prayed. The years went by torturously and still he prayed. Not once had he lost faith in some form of salvation.

Even when the torment from his family abated into cold contempt, he had implored the heavens above for just one chance. One chance. That’s all. One chance for a life without utter wretchedness. When he learned Fiona was to be his, he had finally known God.

He would’ve done anything for her. He would’ve become anything for her. And in the end, he had become her.

“All I ever wanted was your love, Angelus. That’s all.”

Mangled desire sprang to life within his dying shell. Not sexual desire, but something far more frightening. It’s not passion. No, it’s not. I don’t know what it could be…I’m just a vampire. A dirty, disgusting parasite. Insects like me don’t feel…

“I wanted to become the perfect girl for you. I wanted you so much.” Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her small face in his chest. “Not just the sex, but YOU. I thought you wanted me too.”

The truth tumbled from his lips like a righteous vine, shredding and exposing what lay beneath a lie’s surface. “I still do…I still do want you. I’ll always want you.”

“Then tell me why. Why?”

Tremors took control of his hoarse voice. Angelus’ stomach clenched, spasms rippling painfully across the cold skin. “B-Because I’m sick, Buffy. I’m so very sick.” She looked up at him. He saw torment swirling within stormy hazel clouds.

“Why won’t you get better then?” she asked with childlike simplicity.

“Because I hate myself more than I’ve hated you. Because I don’t know any other way.”

“It’s not my job to fix you,” she whispered rapidly.

“I know.” I wished you could. I still do.

“But I’ve wanted to for so long.” Buffy’s fervent gaze matched his. “And that’s where I went wrong.”

“I’m s-sorry, Buffy. I’m…sorry for…betraying you.” Apologizing was fearsome, foreign. It flowed like a foul drink being forcibly poured down his throat. Yet, after the instinctive gag, sweetness numbed his mouth. Something small sprung free in his reserve and the truth came easier. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. You never deserved any of it. You deserved more.”

UPDATED APRIL 27, 2005

His apology should’ve been a balm for her embittered, weary soul. It should’ve been. Yet, it wasn’t. Suppressed anger found a way to expose its existence. “You say this now. Now when it can’t change anything. Do you know how much I needed to hear it there?” Her finger pointed to their bodies. The gesture wasn’t lost on Angelus.

“I didn’t understand then. I do now.”

“So why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that really the truth?”

“Yes.”

The easy answers fueled her suspicion. “Is it you can’t lie here or you don’t want to?”

Angelus’ stare encompassed the church before settling on their sprawled forms. Several seconds passed in silence before he answered. “I don’t know. I just…can’t…lie to you. Not here. Not now.”

“I see.” Buffy let out a despondent sigh. I have to ask. I don’t know how much time I have left—so I have to ask. Cowardice edged out anger. Why push it? I already know. I saw it with my own eyes and heard about it with my own two ears. Why do I need to add this to my life memories? “She said others. Is it true?”

Druscilla, I really wish you hadn’t said that. He wanted to lie. More than anything he wanted to lie. The faceless phantoms in Angelus’ convoluted memory rose up to peer at him in coy judgment. Go on, they seemed to say in derision. Go on and prove just how worthless you’ve really been.

Could he tell her? Could he admit to how he had soiled his body with females who meant nothing? How could explain? How could he explain to Buffy his utter selfishness, his sickness, and his weakness?

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Although sorrow laced her words, her voice remained even and controlled.

“Yes.”

Buffy’s body stiffened. When she pulled away, he let her go. “Oh, god. I knew. I knew it had to be true. All this time I obsessed on it. I obsessed on it because something inside me KNEW.” Knowing didn’t make it less painful. Preparation didn’t make her stronger. Instead she felt as if the last bit of hope had just died a misery death.

The desolation in Buffy reached out to reproach Angelus. “It’s not…I wasn’t bored of you.” The words slipped out lamely. They were hardly giving a solid defense and the disgraced vampire knew it.

“So you did it because you could?” Her eyes sparked with betrayal. “Because your ego needed to know how many women you could score with? That’s why?! Just how fucking old are you?”

“No! I-I…shit!” Angelus ran his hands through his hair, dimly surprised that he felt the strands and not just air. Then he realized how silly his surprise was considering he was able to feel Buffy’s body against his. Suddenly, he missed her more than ever. “You can’t understand what it means to be me. I’m not known for sweetness, lover. Someone like Spike can be with just one woman and it’s understood. Me? No way.”

“Understood by who, Angelus? Do you really think you’re the center of everyone’s world? ‘Oh, Master Angelus got himself a girlfriend! That’s world breaking news. Hurry! Let’s go and revolt!’”

He flinched from the acidic mockery in Buffy’s voice. Put in those terms he sounded colossally stupid. Angelus frowned and looked down. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t! Why should I? You broke my trust!” Pained silence followed her outburst. “I thought you weren’t a liar, Angelus.”

He turned away from her, too ashamed to say anything in his miserable defense.

Angelus’ beaten silence infuriated Buffy. This wasn’t the sadistic lover she had turned herself inside out for. She didn’t know who this man was. He could’ve been Angel…Angelus…no one.

Irrational thoughts crept into her hemorrhaging heart. His weakness made her want to crush him. The feelings frothing inside couldn’t find real words. Instead they grasped for any one thing, any concrete reason to latch onto. Images of Angelus’ naked body gyrating in ecstasy gave her the needed motive.

“When did you start? The same night you fucked me? That weekend? When?!”

“I can’t really remember,” he mumbled.

“Bull. You remember. You remember everything. Tell me.”

Angelus let out a muffled whine and winced. He didn’t understand what was happening to his secrecy and control.

“When did you start?” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Damn you! You owe me at least this much!”

“The night on the table.”

Buffy drew back as if slapped. “With Lina!”

“No!” Angelus’ shout faded away. “Not that night. The other night on the table. The night that was supposed to be just for us.” He swallowed once. “I mean…that’s when I decided to…to…”

“When you decided to cheat on me,” Buffy finished flatly.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “Yes.”

Buffy stared down at the empty husk that used to be her body. “I remember that night.” The night I found out about the prophesy being over. “So you dressed me up in pretty clothes, screwed me, then moved on because I wasn’t a challenge anymore.”

“That’s not how it was!”

The disgust on her face would’ve made him cringe if he had seen it. “What possible reason could you ever give me that would make what you did right? What?”

“I know there isn’t any reason, Buffy. You’re asking me and I’m just trying to answer.” Angelus let out a broken sigh. "I'm sorry. Damn, I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could go back and do it differently. You're right--looking on it now--I was stupid. The only thing that bothered me was my pride. The only one who looked at me as weak was ME."

His sincerity touched her. Yet, it couldn't heal the rage, the bitterness, the utter desolation. “Well, you’re still not giving me anything, Angelus. I’ve yet to hear one reason.” Without waiting for his reply, she cried, “And on top of making an idiot out of me, you put me in danger!”

Angelus swung around, incensed at the suggestion. “How’d I put you in danger? The only weakness I ever showed was through keeping you safe!”

“You haven’t been out of the loop that long. I’m sure you’ve heard of STDs.” A brittle smile tweaked her pale lips. She relished his rage. Rage was familiar. She understood it. This guilt and remorse was something she didn’t. This isn’t Angelus. This isn’t him at all. I can’t handle him like this.

The sudden fury flowed out of his being. “Oh. I can’t get STDs. You’re good on that.”

Buffy stared at him for a long minute. How’d this ever become okay? For either of us? “And that makes everything better. I don’t get diseased, so I should give you a pat on the back? That was a result of vampirism—not because you were thinking of my safety.”

He stared at her for several seconds before dropping his guilty gaze. “That’s true.” Angelus swallowed his suffocating rush of pain and looked up. There wasn’t anything he could say to make it right. The only thing he had left to give Buffy was the truth. “I did it because I couldn’t stand how you made me feel. I had to prove to myself that you weren’t anything special.”

His courage failed him. He had to look away during the rest of his confession. Angelus spoke in notes of death, knowing his words would destroy what little pride Buffy had left. “I fucked girls, women, females more beautiful that you. I fucked ones with better bodies than you. I fucked women who knew how to give head better than you.”

Buffy’s gasp of agony lanced him but he kept going. “I took them and forgot about them. In the end, their beauty, bodies, and technique meant nothing. Do you know why? It’s because I couldn’t forget about one girl.” He turned to her. All the torment in Angelus’ being shined sadly from his dark eyes. “You.”

UPDATED MAY 1, 2005

“Me?” Buffy’s mouth trembled, alternating between tightening and grimacing.

“You.” The word left his lips with reverence. Angelus took one step towards Buffy, then another, and another. “It’s been about you. It’s always been about you. It always will be.”

Buffy held her hand up in a feeble effort to hold him at bay. “No. This isn’t about me at all. This is about you, your ego, your sickness, your immaturity, your cruelty, your thoughtlessness…your hatred.”

“That’s true. But as I stand here now, I swear to you, Buffy. You’re the only one I wanted. Even then.”

She swallowed hard. God, it hurts so bad to hear this. It hurts because I wish I could just be satisfied with it. “I can’t even look at you. All I can think about is you touching them the way you touched me.”

“I didn’t. I used them like they were whores.”

A maddened chuckle tumbled from her lips. “So like me, huh?”

Angelus felt as if he were drowning in sight of her. No matter how he tried to explain, his words fell into shit. He needed so desperately for her to understand the impossible. He had no idea how much longer they had, but he had to make her believe how much she really meant to him. If he couldn’t make her understand, then he would truly be burning in Hell. “I fucked them, Buffy. That was all.”

Instead of making a stronger position, Angelus made things worse.

“And you fucked me too! You fucked me like you didn’t know me! Like I meant nothing at all!”

Anger flickered around the hard-wrought edges of his patience. “That’s not true! With them I didn’t care if they liked it, if they walked away thinking I was a waste of their time! It didn’t matter if they thought I was the worse lay in the world! It was just sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“It’s not just sex, Angelus! God! Can’t you get that?” Buffy drew in a ragged breath. She saw the confusion on his face and it frustrated her to the point of insensibility. “It’s just sex, huh? What if it was me, Angelus? What if you found out that I had slept with tons of guys while we were together?” Her girlish voice purred with sensuality. “Imagine if I let them in me, in the place where only you were supposed to go. Imagine me laid out on my back, legs open, body writhing as I came.”

Pure disgust replaced confusion before being replaced by something evil. The vampire’s ebony eyes flashed with familiar malice and vengeance. “I’d kill you.”

“Oh, so you’d kill me, but I’m supposed to see that it’s just sex? Nothing more, nothing less.”

Blackness died a quick death. “I…I…” Angelus bit his words off. “It’s not the same!” was what his stubbornness wanted to shout. But it is the same. How come I can see this now, but not then? Not when I had a chance? “You’re right. I can’t expect you to see it because it’s not just sex. I knew it then, that’s why I lied. That’s why I tried so hard to keep you from knowing. But then you found out anyway. You found out in the worst way possible. I wish you hadn’t seen it. I really wish more than anything that you hadn’t seen that.”

Buffy’s quick reply cut through his apologies. “How about wishing that you hadn’t done it instead? How about wishing you were man enough to stay faithful to me? If you couldn’t do that, how about wishing you were man enough to just end it?”

“I’d never end it with you!” he hissed. “Never!”

Pained silence followed his outburst. “Don’t you see? You did end it with me. You ended it when you cheated on me. I told you before—I’d do anything to be with you, but sharing you with another woman is one thing I won’t do. Ever.”

Staring down into her broken gaze, Angelus backed away. Bitter laughter frothed inside his insubstantial chest. The not-dead priest said he was going to deserve his suffering. Marion was right. Suffering. It’s all I feel. I died just to feel this. I died with Buffy just to see her turn away from me. I died just so I could be alone.

He couldn’t stomach the reality. It made him want to disintegrate in a million pieces. If Buffy turned away from him completely, he’d shatter. He’d shatter and nothing would ever fix him again. Desperation dictated action. “Buffy, I need you. I need you so much.” Angelus’ vulnerability lay exposed for both to gawk at, to spit on, to nurture.

She clenched her small fists with familiarity. “You’re not being fair! Why are you saying this to me now?! Now when it doesn’t matter anymore?!”

“It matters to me. It matters to you.”

“No, it doesn’t!” she denied hotly.

A tragic smile lifted his pale lips and painted his eyes in shades of melancholy. “Then why are you crying?”

Buffy froze with brittle stillness. She lifted a hand up and felt for proof. Tears flowed across her fingertips. She stared at droplets for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally, Buffy dropped her head and whispered, “I don’t know.”

Angelus took courage. He closed the bleeding distance between them. Stopping in front of her, he feared Buffy’s hatred. Her loathing would be his hard-earned reward for a life spent wasted. Confronted with the possibility in his mind, he rebelled. Just one more chance. One more chance is all I need. I swear it. “Buffy? Buffy, look at me. Please.”

The desire to close her eyes to his plea burned hotly behind her lids. The need to stitch her heart’s agony for this man scorched. In the end, Buffy once more found herself staring into eternity. “I’m looking.”

“I wasted our life together. I know that now. If I could go back and change it, I would. If I could start over, all the way back to that night in the cemetery, I would.”

“What would you change?” Her soft question, while wooden on the surface, couldn’t hide the pain of remembrance. It couldn’t disguise the festering humiliation of being tricked so completely or manipulated so thoroughly.

“I wouldn’t have pretended to be Angel. I wouldn’t have tried to kill you.”

“I—”Buffy bit her lip once, faltered, then began again. “I would’ve loved you forever, Angelus. Even as wrong as you were to me, I would’ve loved you forever.”

A vice methodically tightened the hollow in his chest. How could I be so stupid?! How could I have fucked things up so badly? “I know. I knew then, but I couldn’t trust it.”

“Because I was so untrustworthy, right?” She sighed unhappily. “Maybe it’s true. Every time you turned around you saw me with someone else.”

Angelus’ shook his head in guilt. “No. It’s not you that I couldn’t trust—it was me.”

Buffy’s heart unfurled, a battered vein reaching out to touch the armored space inside his chest. “What were you so scared of?”

The disgraced vampire startled, as if feeling the ephemeral contact. His gaze found their physical bodies and for the first time noticed their positions. Buffy’s corpse lay turned toward his, her arms out straight as if reaching for him in a last act of humanity.

But what finally decimated Angelus’ foibles wasn’t the way he lived his life, but the way he ended it. Despite the denials, despite the fear, his death rattle proved it all—he lay sprawled in a mirror image of Buffy.

Turning to her, Angelus dared to do in death what he desperately wanted to at the end of life. He reached out and touched her perfect cheek. “Love.”

UPDATED MAY 10, 2005

She leaned into his touch. “Love feels good, Angelus. It makes life worth living. Even for vampires. You shouldn’t be scared of it.”

“Did loving me treat you well?”

While not caustic, his question cut through her sudden fog of wellbeing. Buffy thought back on their entire journey. Sadness made their mark on her face. “No, it hasn’t. Loving you has been dirty, disgusting, and vile.”

“I see.” Angelus couldn’t blame her for the given answer. However, agreeing to it did little to take the sting away.

“But as much as I hated how bad you made me feel, I loved you more. So it ended up being worth it.” Buffy’s eyes dimmed. “That is until—”

“AND,” he cut in rudely, “as much as I’ve hated how much you make me feel, I loved it more.”

Buffy turned her face away, breaking from Angelus’ touch. “Maybe because of the bond. Nothing more.”

Tragic laughter lurked in his voice. “I never needed a bond to feel you, Buffy. All I needed was to see you. To be with you. To think of you.” He tucked her small hand in his and brought it up to his chest. “You’ve been in here. You’ve been in here long before you ever knew I existed.”

“What exactly are you saying to me, Angelus?” Buffy’s stomach dropped and she heard a loud roar rushing in her ears. It was the sound of blood pumping furiously through sheer nervousness. That’s not right. I shouldn’t be hearing that anymore. Anyway, I think I shouldn’t.

His lids dropped down, shading his gaze, but Angelus’ soft voice revealed all. “I’m saying that if I could have another chance at life, with you, I’d show you how much you mean to me, in here.”

Buffy reeled from the intense emotions hammering away at her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, I…I don’t…I can’t get what you’re saying.”

“You know what I’m saying.”

Angelus’ sincerity rocked her. Blinking, gawking, and disbelieving she managed to croak out, “Are you…are you saying you love me?”

A grim smile tightened his mouth. “I’ve never said those words to anyone in this incarnation—as Angelus. But if there was anyone I’d ever say it to, it would be you.”

Buffy stabbed him with her recriminatory stare. “If that’s true, why didn’t you say it when Acrymydion asked you?”

“You really did hear us,” he murmured sadly, more than a bit ashamed.

“Yeah, I did.”

Crisp sadness carved small lines into his face. “Well, like I said—I’d only say it to you.”

Buffy suddenly gasped in pain. Angelus’ arms came around her. “What’s wrong? Baby, tell me.”

“Everything I ever went through, everything I suffered, it was all for this.” She hissed in terrible agony. “All I ever wanted was your love, Angelus. I lived for it. I breathed for it. I turned myself inside out for you. I did it because I needed your love so badly.” Choking sobs clawed up her throat. “And now! Now when it doesn’t matter, now when it’s too late, now you give me what I always wanted!”

Angelus held Buffy tightly, terrified to say the wrong thing but desperate to ease her pain anyway he could. “I’m sorry.”

“You know what’s sick about this whole ridiculous, stupid drama? What’s sick is that it even matters to me!” Her sobs mutated into ugly laughter. “I mean c’mon! Look at us! Here we are—dead—and even now we can’t die in peace. Even now we’re still just as twisted as we were alive. How much sense does that make? Whether you hate me, love me or whatever—it shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does matter.”

“Why?!”

“Because it does.” The lame, weakly spoken reason didn’t sit well with him. His brow furrowed once before becoming smooth again. Resting his cheek against her blonde crown, Angelus stated, “It matters because we belong together.”

Buffy let out a shaky sigh. All the earthly emotions of pain and sorrow seemed to seep away.

“You really believe that?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Flat laughter came into being. “We are pair, Angelus. We are a sad, little pair.”

Angelus couldn’t let their last moments end like this. Now that he had all but admitted what he felt for her, he couldn’t let it go. “Forgive me.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you. Even dead, I don’t know.”

He swallowed back his denials. Strangely enough he wished his demon could make an appearance. If anything just to make him have the arrogance to demand something else from Buffy. “I understand.”

“But I’d want to.”

“Buffy…do you mean that?” His hands squeezed her flesh once before releasing her arms completely.

A touch of her old mischief sparked to life. “I said it didn’t I?”

“How?” Angelus screwed his eyes shut. Guilt uncoiled within his breast. He had all but admitted how he felt, but he had yet to say the words. Why can’t I say it? Even though I swore I never would, does it really matter? “After what you saw tonight, with Dru, and knowing what I’ve done…how?”

“Maybe because I’m stupid. Most likely it’s because I’m stupid. I really can’t say right now, Angelus.”

He could feel his core bending, ready to snap into a million pieces. It was painful, gutting, terrifying, and he hated it. Tell her. Tell her! He couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The peace inside began to burn away. “I don’t understand your answer,” he snapped. “Are you being serious, sarcastic, what?”

“I said I’d want to,” she sighed. Angelus’ reversal of mood didn’t surprise her. She was used to it. So used to it that it didn’t seem odd for him to carry the same characteristics in the afterlife. “I didn’t say that I did. Those are two different things, Angelus. You can’t confuse them.”

Chastened, he backed away and replied, “I know. I’m sorry.” He apologized for more than presumptuousness. What’s wrong with me? Why am I slipping? Why am I feeling torn again? Why am I on the verge of yelling at her? What is WRONG with me?! Angelus didn’t want to feel anger. He didn’t want to feel the ugliness of his existence. He craved peace. He needed to be clean, pure. He didn’t want to be dirty again.

“It hurts, you know?” Buffy murmured. Suddenly, she smiled. “It hurts but not as much anymore. Strange, huh? I guess it’s one of the benefits of being dead.”

But are we really dead? The thought slid into his mind like a tiny thorn. His dark gaze slipped to the scene beneath. What was the point of making him go through Buffy’s death? How was that a punishment? He wanted to be with her—alive or dead.

“What do you think? Is it just me being loopy or what?”

Before Angelus could answer, someone else did instead.

“But you’re not dead, Buffy. Not entirely anyway.”

Both lovers whirled about to find the source.

“Life does not just begin with the first breath out of the womb. Death does not just end with the body. They are separate and yet entwined. Do you remember those words, Buffy?”