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Whose Shanshu?	By : QueenB Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 3387 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
That night torrential rains poured down on Cleveland. Buffy cut her patrolling short; even demons didn’t care to come out during the wet. Most humans stayed home in bad weather and that meant that Happy Meals on two legs were in scant supply.
Comfortably snuggled in bed, she turned on the radio to hear the weather in California. Since leaving Angel to make her life in Cleveland, she had become obsessive in keeping up with the news on the western coast. To her surprise, it was raining hard in California, too.
“Okay. Not of the usual,” she mumbled. “Wonder how Angel’s doing against the Beast of Armani?” She toyed with the idea of calling and leaving a message and then discarded it. Angel would leave her an email when he got in or he would call. Whenever either of them faced anything out of the usual, they made a point of calling the other for support, backup, lore and weapons. They were determined to keep each other informed of any new developments in their lives.
Buffy pulled the covers up to her neck and stared through the rain-spattered window. She shoved aside her mounting uneasiness and tried to sleep.
Rain. It pelted down on the vampire and Slayer as they raced back to his apartment. Buffy shivered but not from the cold as Angel touched her wet skin searching for the wound he could smell under her clothes. She’d nearly lost him tonight and she was terrified that it might happen again. He whispered for the first time how much he loved her in spite of his better judgment and she drew him close, ignoring his feeble protest…
*****
The water from the sprinklers sprayed them both as Angelus sneered at her inability to strike him down. She knew she had to. This was no longer the man she loved. But those dark eyes, now without a shred of human feeling, the sneering lips, the tall, powerful frame--these all belonged to Angel. How could he have disappeared completely? How could she kill him?
*****
Angel held a blonde woman, extorting her not to give up. They were swaying together in the shower, both fully clothed, as Angel urged her to wake. Wait a minute; she knew this woman. It was that cop--what was her name?--Kate Locksley. What was wrong with her and what was Angel doing with her?
Apparently she had tried to commit suicide and Angel had prevented it. He had miraculously entered her home even though she’d never invited him in…
*****
The lightning flashed as Angel woke up beside the exhausted Darla, harsh breaths dragging from his body. He staggered onto the balcony followed by his watchful, gloating Sire. Buffy knew what this meant; Angel had risked his soul in Darla’s arms and now Angelus would return. The rainfall lashed his body as Darla told him it would only hurt for a minute only to recoil in baffled outrage when Angel, not Angelus, stared her in the eyes…
*****
Darla lay in the alley, completely spent. Her labor pains were horrific but the child wouldn’t come and she knew what she had to do. Before Angel could stop her, she plunged the stake into her own heart. Angel watched aghast as his Sire’s remains washed away in the pouring rain, a tiny naked baby born amidst her ashes…
*****
A vicious beast the size of a small truck, six baleful eyes trained in different directions on the fighters attacking him, had crawled from a masssunksunken hole in the ground into what looked like a public park. The constant downpour made the ground slippery and fighting precarious. The brunette vampire was fighting alongside the smaller human with bleached hair; each darted in successive movements to distract the beast so someone could get in a killing blow. Spike yelled jeering taunts and lunged for an apparent opening. But he slipped in the thick mud and, in a blur of movement, a forked tail smacked him hard into a nearby tree.
Angel leaped over the tail and ran to check on his grandchilde. The blow had been powerful, enough to crack the tree trunk, and Spike wasn’t moving. The monster pinned Gunn beneath a massive paw and Buffy heard bones crack as it brought its massive weight to bear. Angel spun from his grandchilde to stab the crre tre through the offending foot. The monster stepped off Gunn with a roar and slashed Angel across the chest. The vampire staggered and went down, the driving deluge washing over his motionless body…
“ANGEL!” Buffy screamed and jerked upright in bed, her heart banging in terror. She automatically reached across the mattress. But Angel wasn’t there, of course; he had left hours ago. She jumped from the bed absently noting that the rain had finally stopped.
She grabbed her phone and dialed the A.I. number. Holding it in shaking hands, she waited impatiently for someone to pick up on the other end. “Hello, you have reached Angel--”
“Cordelia, is that you? I need to speak to Angel! Is he all right?”
“--the helpless. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep. If this is an emergency, please beep us at 917-555-2192.”
“Dammit!” It was only an answering machine. She didn’t want to leave a message, something told her the nightmare was more than just a bad dream brought on from too many buffalo wings and she needed to contact Angel or one of the others right away. She left a message anyway urging anyone to call. Then she dialed the emergency number.
On the first ring, a harried English voice answered. “Hello, this is Angel Investigations.”
“Wesley? It’s Buffy. Did something happen to Angel? Please tell me; I need to know.”
“Buffy? Angel, he’s--he’s been seriously injured. How did you know?”
“I had a dream, Wesley, one of my prophety dreams. It was the Beast, wasn’t it? It was huge, had six eyes, ugly like it hit a wall face first.”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right. We managed to take it out with a flame-thrower, courtesy of Wolfram & Hart’s storage facilities. But Angel was grievously wounded in the battle. We’re getting him back to the hotel as fast as we can.”
“I’m coming there.” Even as she spoke, Buffy pulled out her overnight bag. She always kept it stocked with medical supplies, a change of clothes and a small cache of weapons. Seven years as a warrior had taught her the meaning of being battle ready.
“I don’t know if you’re needed here. We have specialists here at the hotel now. They’re more than competent to handle things.” Wesley wasn’t certain how Buffy’s presence would help and she might just get in the way.
“Wesley, I had that dream for a reason. I’m supposed to be there and I’m coming.”
“Very well. Just don’t expect us to devote too much time for you. We have other injured here.”
“I understand.” Buffy hung up and dialed her number at work. Since she was never ill she had plenty of sick time coming up. It looked like she was going to need it.
__________
The teleportation spell dissipated and the first person she saw was Fred. The lanky brunette darted forward and clasped Buffy’s hand. The Slayer’s heart sank. Fred was normally very affectionate but this gesture coming at such a time couldn’t mean anything good.
“Buffy, you have to hurry. It’s getting worse. The doctors did all they could and Wesley and the others have been going through the books but they haven’t found anything so far. Angel’s been calling for you,” she babbled, leading the Slayer from the banquet room to the hotel lobby.
“How is he?”
Fred didn’t answer, only gave her a look of mingled terror and sympathy. Buffy wrenched out of her hand and took off at a dead run for the lobby. Cordelia, Andrew and Wesley were in his office looking through the books. A number of the other Slayers were gathered in the lobby also reading through various texts. Buffy ran to the side of the prone vampire lying on the couch and sank down beside him.
The wound in his chest had been bandaged but it clearly wasn’t helping. His skin had turned a dark, ugly blackened color as if he’d been burnt and the poison was spreading. She could see it marching inexorably across his skin like a dark stain even as she watched. There was a fine sheen of sweat across the vampire’s skin and he trembled and groaned from the pain.
“Angel? It’s Buffy. Can you hear me?” Her voice lowered to a whisper and she waited anxiously for a reply. The vampire muttered an incoherent phrase under his breath and his eyes fluttered but didn’t open; she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her.
“Angel, please. Open your eyes. Look at me.” The black tide crept up his throat and the vampire drew a wheezing futile breath. Then his eyes opened and he stared at her.
“B-Buffy? Is that--are you really here?” His voice was grating, the smooth tenor changed to a rasp as he tried to speak.
She squeezed his hand. “Yes, Angel. Don’t try to talk, Just save your strength, okay? You’re going to be fine.” She looked up and glared at the Watcher who’d appeared to stand mutely by her side. She dared him to contradict her, even though there was no sign of hope in his bleak expression.
“S-spike?”
She frowned uncertainly. Why was Angel asking about him? Fred offered, “Spike was injured in the fight. The Beast broke one of his legs and cracked a couple of ribs. We got him and Gunn taken to the Wolfram & Hart facilities. They’re in critical condition but it looks like they’ll survive. Gunn heals a lot faster these days; he should be out soon. Not so sure about Spike though.”
“You hear that, Angel? Spike’s going to be fine and so are you.”
The vampire grimaced as if trying to summon his strength. “S-shan…shu. Human…ity. Choose…Spike.”
Now she understood what he meant. “No, Angel, no! Do you hear me? You’re the one I want and you’re going to be okay. You’re not palming me off to Spike like a secondhand car! Wesley, why is he here? Why isn’t he with Spike and Gunn?”
The Watcher’s face was grim. “The demon specialists found nothing in Wolfram & Hart’s records about this poison or what could combat it and the venom is obviously spreading too quickly. We thought we should bring him here where he could be comfortable, at least.”
“That’s not good enough!” she yelled and saw the Watcher flinch from the verbal assault.
Angel’s hand tightened and he whispered, “It’ll be fine, Buffy. Don’t grieve. I love you. Always.”
She managed a tremulous smile. “I know that, silly.” The black crawled over his jaw and her mouth went dry. It was getting worse; there was no stopping it. Even she could see that. “Angel, you’re the only one. You always have been. I’m not taking Spike as some sort of consolation prize.”
His mouth worked as he strained to speak but the dark-haired vampire didn’t answer. Perhaps he couldn’t. The inky flow advanced to his eyebrows and his eyes opened wide.
There was the faintest whisper such as a blown curtain might have made against skin or of dust being swept across the floor. Then his eyes closed and his body dissolved into powder, the ashes drifting through Buffy’s hands. She stared in shock at the human-shaped pile of cinders as the blanket collapsed around a man no longer there.
She cried out once, a harsh choked whisper that seemed to push against the jagged edges of her throat. Then her hands scrabbled uselessly in the ashes, desperate to gather up what was left of her lover.
__________
She didn’t really know what happened after that. For several minutes she had refused to move from the couch, incapable of believing that the worst had happened. Someone--it may have been Cordelia--had finally pulled her from it and brought her to her bed. She had lain there motionless ever since, refusing to eat, her lover’s ashes staining her hands.
Willow, Xander and Dawn had arrived as soon as someone remembered to call them. Giles was out on a search-and-rescue mission in Spain; it would take some time for him to arrive by more conventional methods. This was the situation when Spike returned to the hotel.
Too impatient to wait, he had nagged the W&H staff until they released him and he hailed a taxi. Hobbling in on crutches, he noted the eerie silence and drawn faces. “‘Ere, what’s all this then? No hugs for the returning hero?” he joked only to note the stiff, tense faces confronting him everywhere. “What?”
Dawn stepped from behind the lobby desk. She wore a dark blue dress in straight, severe lines though no more so than her face. “Spike?” She stared at him for a moment. Then her face crumpled and she burst into tears.
“Nib--Dawn. What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.” Terror seized him and he hobbled forward, heedless of the pain the incautious movement brought him. “It-it isn’t Buffy, is it, pet? Tell me, please!”
She barely managed to speak around her sobs. “Buffy, sh-she was here when it happened. She’s upstairs.” She apparently couldn’t say anything more. Collapsing on the couch, she hugged herself tightly and gave herself over to her grief.
Spike was torn between tending to the girl’s obvious distress and seeing what was upstairs. If Buffy was upstairs, that meant she was all right. Or perhaps Dawn was talking about her body. But if she’d been injured or killed in Cleveland, why would her body be here? If not, why would she have come here so soon after her last visit with Angel?
Cordelia solved the matter for him. She stepped out of the office, excitement and hope on her face. “Dawn, I’ve got an idea!” Then she saw Spike and stopped short. “Oh, hey. That was quick. Chalk one up for modern medicine. She tell you what happened?”
“Not ‘zackly. What’s gone on since I got laid up?”
She stared at him without speaking for a long moment. Cordelia and Spike had never gotten along. From day one they’d done nothing but argue with and snipe at one another, providing a source of unending entertainment to the others. But she really couldn’t see the point of hating him now.
Silently gesturing for him to step into the office, she closed the door behind them and spoke without preamble. “Angel’s dead. The Beast of Amalfi poisoned him with his claws. Buffy managed to get here but she couldn’t do anything. None of us could. S-she saw him die.”
“So Buffy’s alive then?” That was Spike’s first concern. He saw the anger and hostility gathering in Cordelia’s eyes and continued in a rare moment of gentleness. “I understand about Angel, really I do. I’m just thinkin’ this must be a real blow for the Slayer, is all. Can I see her?”
“That’s not a good idea. She’s not really interested in doing the talky thing with us and we’re her friends.” She opened the door and walked out to Dawn. Clearly the little meeting was over.
Spike’s lips thinned. He understood the implication behind her blunt statement, of course. No one really considered him a friend to Buffy. Well, keeping himself away from her whenever she visited Angel didn’t really change that opinion in their eyes. Sod them. He wasn’t going to stay away now just ‘cause the fashion slave told him to.
Spike took the elevator to the second floor as he contemplated all that had occurred since he took his place as a member of Angel Investigations. For the first few weeks he had reveled in his humanity, taunting Angel with his inability to enjoy sunshine. However, the reality of being human had begun to pall. He got stomachaches when he overate, pounding hangovers that took hours to dissipate instead of minutes and injuries that took too long to heal.
Angel had Buffy. He had her and happiness and, though he never bragged to Spike about any of it, the bliss on his grandsire’s face was just too much to take. Spike absented himself from the hotel whenever Buffy came and did his best to avoid the poof after one of his trips to Cleveland. Spike simply couldn’t stand seeing the wanker so happy over the woman he’d tried so hard to get and failed.
Now Angel was gone but Spike didn’t kid himself that now he had a chance with Buffy. A lover’s ghost was even more impossible to compete with than the living article. Buffy had held on to her love for Angel during the four years of their separation. A little thing like death would make no difference to her.
He hesitated before her door and then knocked on it tentatively. There was no answer but he opened it anyway. The tiny body of the golden-haired Slayer lay passively on the bed. She didn’t move nor speak when he entered.
“Buffy, I heard the news.” No reaction. He cleared his throat and sat awkwardly on the bed, his plastered leg sticking out in front of him. “Nobody called the hospital; I just heard it from the prom queen downstairs. I-I know how you must feel.”
She still didn’t move and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Him and me, we didn’t always see eye to eye. But he was family, you know? Dru was always insane. I only tended to her. It wasn’t as if she and I connected on some deep spiritual level. Darla was a flipping bore and we couldn’t stand each other. But Angelus and I had good times. And Angel…right, I’m not saying him and me understood each other. Couldn’t see why a soul kept him from lightening up and enjoying himself. But he loved you. We had that in common so I know what he felt for you. He wanted you happy, Slayer. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
There was still no response and Spike was running out of things to say. He’d never been in the habit of comforting anybody over death before especially when he used to be in the habit of causing it. “I’m not saying you should get up and start dancing or nothing. It’s just there’s other people counting on you.”
“No, there aren’t.” The voice was eerie in its flat calm and Spike’s eyes shot to her face. But Buffy hadn’t moved at all and she continued training her lifeless gaze on the ceiling.
“What? Sure, there are. Dawn--”
“Dawn’s fine. She’s practically a woman and my dad’s taking care of her. Willow, Xander or Giles would do that if he didn’t. She doesn’t need me. And there are tons of Slayers now. No longer bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders. There was only one person who needed me and he’s--” Her voice choked off and she took a deep shuddering breath before lapsing into silence again.
“Maybe Dawn doesn’t need you. But she loves you, pet. They all do and it kills them to see you suffer like this.” He wanted to add how much it was tearing him up inside to see her in pain but he didn’t think she’d care about that.
“I’m not gonna play happy Buffy just to keep them from worrying. That’s what I did last year and look how rotten that turned out.”
He winced. He knew what she meant. The ugliness of their sex romps hung between them like a nasty odor; she never felt there was any joy in them and he’d given up trying to change her mind about it. All she had to do was compare what they did to what he’d had with Harmony and that put an end to that argument.
“Spike, I’m in mourning. If you don’t get that, then get out.” She brought her hands up to her face and sniffed them dreamily. He saw the dark residue of dust coating them and his stomach churned. That was his grandsire on her hands; he would have bet his newfound humanity on it.
“Shit, luv. You need to wash up and pronto.”
He made to touch her and she stiffened. Her eyes shot towards him and a flare of white-hot rage burned in them. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, her voice a low, menacing hiss.
“Why? Whacha gonna do about it, Slayer?” he taunted. If he could get her angry that might shake her out of the depression she was spiraling into. Her next words dispelled that notion.
“You’re only human now and you just got off the sick list. You touch me, I’ll scream ‘rape’ and we’ll see what one of the others does to you.” Her smile was vicious and without a trace of pity. “I believe Dawn said something once about setting you on fire.”
He got up from the bed and backed away, cursing the inelegance of his movements. “Dammit, Buffy. You act like you’re the only one to have lost somebody. He was my family. He was practically the only bit of it I got left. And the others lost him, too. The gangbanger, the prom queen, Twiggy--they’re all hurting over him and all you can do is wallow in self-pitying stink.”
“Don’t pretend you care about the others, Spike. I know you. You don’t really give a crap about anybody but yourself and you certainly didn’t like Angel. Oh, wait. He was the poof to you, right?”
“I gotta think it’s the grief talkin’ here, Slayer ‘cause you know me better than that. What Angel and me had got nothing to do with like or dislike. We were family. We were blood, the way you and the Nibblet are. If you don’t get that, then you’re bloody stupid.”
“Says the guy who thought the Buffybot was a good idea.” The anger seemed to leave Buffy all at once. She was simply too drained to keep up this argument. “Spike, just go away. I don’t want to talk to you. You don’t give a piss about Angel. So piss off.” She rolled over and turned her back towards him.
Whatever he was going to say as a rebuttal was lost as the hotel door swung open behind him. “Buffy, I thought you--” Cordelia stopped speaking as she saw Spike. The seer’s eyes narrowed and she snapped at him, “I told you to stay away from her.”
“Right. Like that’s gonna cut any ice with me.” Brushing past her, he took the elevator and hobbled into the garden. He needed a smoke and time to cool down. He didn’t hold any great hope of being allowed back into Buffy’s room any time soon. But that was the great thing about being human--no pesky de-invite spells could hold him out. He just hoped Buffy would be in a better mood when he saw her next.
__________
Now that the girls were in Buffy’s room, they hesitated to talk to her. Never one to mince words, Cordelia spoke up first. “Buffy. We’ve got some good news.”
The Slayer didn’t move and Cordelia forged on. “It’s about Darla. You remember her, right? Of course you do. Well, those people at Wolfram & Hart brought her back from the dead even though she’d been gone almost four years. So I contacted Nabbitt and he went through the W&H files and guess what? They still have the ritual on file. We know Willow can handle the magic so no problem there. Then we rustle up five vampires and we can get Angel back.” She beamed at the other women who continued to stare at the still figure on the bed.
The blonde women didn’t move for a moment. Then she sat up slowly and directed her eyes towards Cordelia. “No.”
The brunette seer was taken aback. “No? What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no. Angel is dead. He’s probably in heaven. I’m not bringing him back from that.” She didn’t elaborate; she didn’t need to.
Willow went pale. The wiccan understood Buffy’s denial. She had never discussed her feelings about heaven and somehow the redhead couldn’t bring herself to speak of it knowing what a painful subject it must be. But now Willow had a chance to help her best friend. She simply couldn’t sit by and see Buffy in such agony of spirit.
“B-Buffy, I know how you must feel about this. I haven’t done anything yet and I won’t if that’s your last word on it. But what if I cast a spell to see where Angel’s soul is? The last time h-he…he went to hell. What if he’s suffering there now? Would you really leave him there? And could we just take it for granted that he isn’t there?”
Dawn stepped forward. “Buffy, she’s right. Maybe they should have made sure about you before they brought you back. But heaven wouldn’t exactly be of the likely for someone like Angel. H-he was a demon, after all. He could be in hell again. We don’t know for sure and only Willow can really find &quo”
Doubt flickered in Buffy’s eyes for a moment. Then all feeling faded away. “Have you guys even considered that it might not work?”
Cordelia darted a meaningful glance at Willow. “Well, I was going to go ahead and try without telling you first. I didn’t want you to sink deeper into depression if we tried this and Willow failed.”
“But we pointed out that’s what we did with Dawn when I brought you back and we figured that you really would want to know. We didn’t want to treat you like a kid,” Willow added.
“Goodness knows I didn’t appreciate it,” Dawn muttered.
Buffy visibly struggled with the implications of this statement. Her voice was low when she replied, “Willow, make sure of your facts. Make damned sure. If Angel is in heaven, then he’s got his reward. Don’t make him go through what I did.’
The women hovered, uncertain what to say now that the main news was over. Cordelia solved the problem by sniffing dramatically and then wrinkling her nose. “You know, you should really consider getting up and taking a shower. If we do get Angel back, you don’t want him to see you all grungy and smelly, do you?”
Buffy flushed and looked down self-consciously at her grimy hands. The remainder of Angel’s ashes had been put into an urn locked away in the safe but the ashes coating her hands made her feel as if she were still close to him in a small way.
The others left quietly and Buffy made preparations for showering. How long had she been in here? Grief had seriously screwed up her sense of time. It must have been a few weeks; Spike had been badly hurt on the same night Angel had gotten killed and you didn’t get up from injuries like that in two days.
Her clothes were ripe and crinkled as she moved in them. Cordelia was right; she really must look and smell pretty awful. Buffy concentrated on the minutiae of grooming and cleansing, trying not to think about this ritual Cordelia had proposed. Was it possible? What if it failed? She didn’t think she could take the crushing disappointment for that. But would it be any worse than the pain she was feeling now?
She ran the shower as cold as she could stand it and crouched on the bathtub floor. Shutting her eyes, Buffy let the water cascade over her body. It was almost like Angel’s touch and she withstood it until her teeth began to chatter and her skin was numb all over. When she finally turned off the spigot with trembling hands, she was so frozen she could scarcely stand up.
Numb. So numb. But numbness is good. Better than pain.
What should she do now? The urge for violent physical activity was her next impulse. But she wasn’t really needed for patrolling with so many Slayers on call. Besides, in her current state of mind, she was running the serious risk of getting killed.
That was a dangerous thought but it held a dark appeal. It had been there, in one form or another, all during the year after she’d been resurrected. It had lain under her filthy gropings with Spike. There was also the notion that her death would reunite her with Angel.
She stood shivering, naked, in front of the bathroom mirror and tried to pull herself back from embracing suicide. Spike had said once that all Slayers had a death wish. He may have been blowing smoke out of his ass at the time but he wouldn’t be far from the truth right now.
There was another option, something she should have done before…
__________
Buffy stood in Angel’s hotel room. It was just as he heft eft it. Apparently no one had had the heart to throw out his things yet. Perhaps they were waiting for her to do it. She opened the closet and held his leather coat to her nose. One of her dreams came unbidden to her mind and she recalled what her dreagel gel had said: The coat wouldn’t be his for much longer. He’d wanted her to have the gift of sunlight and children and knew he couldn’t give them to her.
Her dreams had been a warning, a presentiment of danger, only she couldn’t see it. Maybe she should have sung for Lorne. Maybe she should have talked to someone about the dreams. But she had wanted to get away from Angel, make a life for herself away from him. Yeah, that had turned out swell, hadn’t it?
I should have been here. I was afraid, I knew something was going to go wrong and I wasn’t here for him!
Sinking to the floor, she clutched the coat harder and began sobbing brokenly. The crying jag went on and on, the harsh tears wrenching out of her. The love of Angel and fierce weeping always seemed to go hand in hand. It had baffled Riley and Xander that a man she loved could make her feel so happy and miserable at the same time. Now the happiness seemed only a distant memory while the suffering became an enemy that haunted her door and would never leave.
The weeping seemed to last forever but it could only have been a few minutes at most. She lay spent and trembling in its aftermath. [Well, that didn’t make me feel any better. What’s next on the agenda? Hysteria sounds pretty good. Let’s try that.] She wanted nothing better than to crawl into his bed holding his coat. But she’d just stopped doing that in her room. She had a mission here and she had to see it through.
Buffy lifted her head wearily and scrubbed at her eyes. As she gathered up the coat, she heard a clink as something metallic fell out of one of the pockets. She bent down and picked up an ornate key from the floor.
What was this for? The key was heavy and old-fashioned looking as if it were meant for a special lock. But she hadn’t seen anything that would match a key like this. She turned it over and over in her fingers and then began searching the room.
There wasn’t much to look through. Angel had led a Spartan existence. Other than his many books, the clothes in his closet and a few antiques he’d picked up on his many wanderings, there didn’t seem to be much here. The key didn’t fit any of his drawers and there was little in them, anyway.
She hung the coat back in the closet and kicked one of the walls in frustration. The next moment, she drew back and kicked it again. The wood had an odd hollow sound to it that didn’t match the rest of the solidly built 70-odd-year-old hotel. She began rapping the paneling next to the wardrobe and listening carefully all around it.
It took her at least another 15 minutes to figure out there was an empty space where there should have been solid wood. Probing around the interior revealed a secret panel fitted into the rest of the small walk-in space. If she hadn’t been searching she would never have seen it. She drew it up and found a secret enclosure.
Buffy drew out the fancy wooden box and ran her hand over the intricate carvings. It was old; she could see that at a glance. The wood featured elegant carvings of men and women kissing and holding hands. She had never seen anything like it and the smoothness of the edges indicated a great deal of loving handling. This had belonged to her Angel and obviously held something cherished and intensely private. Otherwise she was sure she would have seen it before now.
She bit her lip as she twirled the key in her hands. It didn’t seem right that she should open this. No one had given her permission and the key had fallen into her possession by accident. But she desperately wanted to know what this might contain. So much of Angel’s past was a mystery to her and she couldn’t help but feel that this box contained a great part of him that lay waiting to be discovered. Buffy took a deep breath and inserted the key.
__________
Wesley ran over the ingredients necessary. “We’ve got the big cage and the chains.”
“Check,” replied Gunn.
“And it asks for five without life and soul,” Wesley added.
“It’s too bad Spike isn’t still a soulless demon; he would have been useful for this,” Cordelia chimed in as she loaded up some weapons.
“I would have had no objections to that plan,” Xander remarked with a grin.
Gunn hefted his axe and tossed it into his van. “Looks like we going vamp hunting. Everybody gets a trank gun and we travel in pairs. Shouldn’t take too long to round up five bloodsuckers.”
Rona looked at her trank gun critically as she checked to see that it was properly loaded. “This has gotta be a switch. I’ve never tried taking one of the vamps alive before now.”
Gunn passed out the last of the weapons and gave the Slayers a final warning. “Yeah. It’s gonna be tricky. Any one of them put up too much of a fight, kill it or let it go. This is strictly a search-and-retrieve mission, ladies. We don’t want anybody getting killed over this.”
Andrew called out, “I’m riding shotgun!” and the others groaned. In spite of his initial resistance to fighting, Andrew had taken to the role of fighter with more enthusiasm than was healthy. He reminded Cordelia a little of Xander in his early days.
“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Vi complained. “It’s doing this ritual in a cemetery or tomb. Why couldn’t we do it back at the hotel?”
Wesley explained as if lecturing in a hall. “The vampires and the dead bodies are key components. The vampires ensure that it’s the body and spirit of a dead vampire that we raise instead of some other creature. The corpses will act as a template for the resurrected being. If we did it someplace else where there were no dead human body parts around, the thing summoned wouldn’t have a working model to build itself from. It wouldn’t look remotely human, more like a deformed stillbirth, and would be savage and violent. Chances are we would have to kill it at once to keep it from ripping us to pieces.”
Vi gulped. “Okay. Consider everything explained.”
“Shouldn’t we have brought Buffy along?” Xander asked. “I mean, this does concern her, doesn’t it?”
“I went to her room but she wasn’t there. I checked Angel’s room and that was empty, too. I really didn’t want to scour a hotel full of 100-odd rooms just to see where she might be hiding.” Cordelia clutched her sword and peered through the van windshield. At moments like this, she wished she were in another profession. She honestly didn’t know what they’d say if a cop pulled them over and demanded to know what they were doing with all the concealed weapons. Gunn had told her he’d traveled around in his souped-up van for years hunting vampires with his posse and the cops had never accosted them. Of course, Gunn had lived in an area where crime was high and the police patrolling really low so that wasn’t a comfort.
They stopped at the first cemetery and everybody piled out. “Everybody remember where we parked!” Andrew said happily and then yelped as Xander whacked him on the back of the head.
“Louder. I don’t think the vamps heard you, Trekboy,” the one-eyed man growled.
“Uh, we want them to hear us, Xander. We’re trying to attract them, remember?” Rona pointed out.
“Yeah. Right,” Xander huffed. “Maybe we should let Andy here be the target like all those red-shirted Enterprise ensigns who kept getting killed when they landed on those alien planets,” he added with a sharky grin.
Andrew shrank away and muttered something about idiots not appreciating the finer parts of science fiction.
__________
Buffy realized the box held a lot of items to sift through and she didn’t want to be interrupted. So she lugged the box to one of the higher floors and forced open a door to an unused room. The place was coated with dust and the electricity wasn’t working but she’d had the foresight to carry up some candles with her.
In the feeble light, she had taken out the sketches of Cordelia and herself. The pictures of the seer were detailed and quite accurate. But they were headshots only without anything particularly revealing about them. The sketches of herself were quite another matter.
There were pictures of her in Sunnydale. She could tell they were from years ago, when her hairstyle and clothing were quite different. They were in a variety of different poses and locales; Angel must have been watching her from a distance for a long time.
There were pictures of her when she was asleep. Had Angelus drawn these or Angel? She wasn’t sure. She seemed so incredibly defenseless in these pictures. She recalled vividly how Angelus had left one by her bedside and her hand shook a little as she dropped it onto the pile.
There were other pictures that were simply baffling. Drawings of her while she was naked draped on a bed--but it wasn’t the hotel bed. She didn’t recognize the furnishings at all. One of them was of her on a table. Well, they got up to some pretty wild stuff but she didn’t recall doing it on a tiny table that obviously couldn’t bear the weight. What the hell was this all about?
The baby blue rattle was tucked in there as well. And there were several diaries all written into with Angel’s neat, elegant script. Her hands lingered over them, brushing the covers with her fingertips. The diaries were all in different covers, indicating writings that had taken place over long periods of time.
Picking one out at random she read, “They’ve been fighting again. It’s not always about her but she thinks it is. The pain and urge to blame herself are in her delicate hazel eyes and I can’t bear it. I want to reach through her window and tell her it’ll be all right. But I know that things are about to get harder for her. My ears pick up the whispers of divorce from her parents when her merely human ears can’t hear it. They will leave Los Angeles when that happens. I must make plans to travel with her.”
She paused, her mouth open in shock. Angel had been watching her back in Los Angeles? He’d never told her that. And she thought Spike was the master of being the nasty little stalker.
Well, that’s probably why he never told you. You were annoyed by his Cryptic Guy routine in Sunnydale. You would have been totally creeped out to know that he was eyeballing you in Los Angeles. He knew about her parents getting a divorce, too. She wished he had talked to her; she would have appreciated a kind voice at the time.
What about when he left her? He’d assigned himself as her protector but he decided to leave her. What had prompted that decision? Scrabbling among the diaries for the appropriate date, she skimmed through various entries until her mother’s name caught her eye.
“Joyce came to see me today. She doesn’t know about my being a vampire. I guess Buffy didn’t tell her everything about me. But she does know that an oan older man and she sees me as being a threat to her daughter’s future happiness. It was strange listening to Mrs. Summers. She has Buffy’s fire, her eyes, her voice and something of her mannerisms. I can’t help but see Buffy’s possible future in her. If I stay with Buffy, she’ll never have a child, a husband who loves her or a life in the sun. All I can give her is darkness. I’ve said this to myself before now but one look into Buffy’s eyes and all my objections simply melt away. But Buffy’s future self stood before me and rebuked me in the form of her mother and I can’t ignore the truth any longer. For Buffy’s sake I must leave. I’ll stay to help her fight the Mayor; she’ll need me for that battle. But after that I will go and I must do so without looking back. If I see her eyes, my resolve will fail and I can’t let that happen.”
So that was it. Her mother had gone to see Angel behind her back and driven the man she loved away. Scalding tears of futile anger at her dead mother welled up in Buffy’s eyes even as she struggled to understand and forgive both her misguided parent and her willful lover.
No wonder Angel had simply turned around and left without a backward glance. He had made it look so easy as if leaving her meant nothing. But it must have cost him every ounce of strength to do it.
“It’s such a struggle being in Los Angeles. Sometimes I find myself fighting the apathy and urge to bury myself in the shadows the way I did for almost 80 years. On the one hand, it’s the perfect place to disappear and remake yourself. But it’s too close to Sunnydale. Maybe I should have gone to New York. But I can’t bear to be too far away from Buffy. Part of me is still clinging to her and I can feel her life force even though I can’t see her. It’s a torment but also a comfort. I just know that if she were ever in real danger, somehow she would call out to me across the bond we share and I would fly to her side.”
And the bond was still there after years of separation. Hadn’t she felt her lover’s danger even across 2,000 miles and come to his aid? But she had been too late and her vision swam with tears again. Why hadn’t she been given a warning earlier when it would have counted? Why hadn’t Cordelia seen anything? What the hell good were these Powers when they couldn’t be bothered to protect their own champions?
It was all so damned unfair. She’d gotten her life together and gotten Angel back against incredible odds only to have him snatched away after only a brief span of happiness. Was she being punished? Was he?
She flipped through more pages, hoping to find a scrap of comfort within the bound covers. Coming upon an entry for a past Thanksgiving, she began reading. Moments into the passage, she frowned in puzzlement and then her eyes widened, dumbfounded, as she read about a magical day of ice cream and sunlight…
__________
“Is this really okay?” Dominique scanned her surroundings making sure to stay well away from the snarling, snapping creatures surrounding the cage.
“Positive,” Willow replied with a greater serenity than she actually felt. The spell to locate Angel’s soul had been successful--more so than she had liked. The brief glimpse she’d caught of that hell dimension had shaken her to her core.
There weren’t flames and brimstone; those would have been too much of a cliché. It was Angel being tormented by the howling of his victims, by visions of Buffy’s twisted, mangled body, by her being torn apart or attacked by demons, by her in the arms of Spike laughing at him. The visions had been chaotic and brief but Willow had seen enough to know how much they would have tortured Angel’s spirit.
She mentioned nothing of that to the others. She only insisted on the imperative of rescuing him as quickly as possible.
Cordelia sighed. “Let’s get this show on the road then.” God, she hated being in cemeteries. They were such a vivid reminder of the many nights she’d spent hanging out with Xander and the other Scoobies while hunting some beasty or other. She’d been almost glad when she and Xander broke up; it had meant no more hanging with him and his friends so they could do Buffy’s job for her.
Now here she was, trying to resurrect her former boss and why? So he could rejoin the never-ending, tiresome, thankless fight against evil. She could totally relate to Buffy’s wish that Angel be allowed to rest in peace. Then she recalled Spike and her resolution hardened.
There’s nothing in those stupid prophecies to say only one vampire can get the Shanshu, right? And Angel was drawn to that scroll like bees to nectar or pollen or whatever. They had to be referring to him! Why should Sparky get all the breaks? She held up the braziers and chanted the words dutifully as Willow began intoning the spell.
The wiccan read, “Five are without breath…”
“Yet they live,” Cordelia and Wesley stated.
“Five are without time…”
“Yet they live.”
Man, this is gonna be a long stretch. And Wills says there’s Latin after this. Ho boy. Xander stifled a yawn. He had seen enough magical ceremonies to last a lifetime; he knew how they could drag on. He listened with half an ear as the redhead’s voice rose in strength and urgency. Then he heard the howl of the chained vampires accompanied by a violent rush of wind that knocked him to the ground. The next moment an eerie stillness settled over the cemetery.
“Crap! What was that? Willow, was that supposed to happen?” He picked himself up and ran back to the others.
Willow and the rest were lying on the ground in various states of confusion. The redhead was the first to recover and he helped her up. Then she stumbled over to the cage and peered into it. “Oh no! He’s not here!”
Cordelia sat up, wincing at the pain in her butt. She had been propelled over a small headstone and fallen hard on her back; she was lucky she hadn’t broken a heel. “What? What do you mean he’s not here? I saw the light flashing and the vamps are all dust. How could he not be here?”
Willow gestured at the cage. “See for yourself. Big cage, total vacancy. Angel was a no-show.”
Groans of disappointment came from all sides as they surged forward to confirm for themselves. The cage was indeed empty and the inevitable questions began.
“Are you sure that was the right spell from Wolfram & Hart, Cordelia?” Wesley asked.
“Of course I’m sure! And we all saw and felt something happen,” the seer snapped in return.
Willow murmured, “She’s right. There was a definite release of magical energy. I could feel it gathering and then washing through me. There just wasn’t any payoff.”
Dawn frowned and kicked the offending cage. “So the first time’s a bust. I say we round up another quintet of the undead and try again.”
Willow sagged against the metal bars wearily. “No can do, Dawnie. I’m too pooped to party. If I try again right now, it would really lay me out flat--or kill me. Besides my concentration’s so shot, I might make a really bad mistake and get something else in that cage.”
“So it was all for nothing,” Rona said, blowing out her lips in disgust.
“Well, it’s like Dawn said. Let me rest up and I can try again tomorrow night.”
Xander shrugged. “Sure, we can do that, Wills. It’s not like Deadboy’s going any place.” He raised his eyebrows in the direction of Cordelia’s angry glare. “What? It’s the truth.”
The ride back to the hotel was made in depressing silence. Even Xander didn’t have the heart to make his usual quips. Giles met them at the hotel door. He had been a trifle disgruntled that no one had met him at the airport but he sobered upon seeing their disheartened expressions.
Buffy still hadn’t made a reappearance and they were all worried. Spike cursed once again his lack of vampiric senses. In the old days before he regained his humanity he would have been able to find her in minutes. Now he was as lost as the rest of them. Some days humanity really sucked.
They asked Willow to do a locator spell but she flatly refused. “I’m still woozy, guys. Besides, she doesn’t want to be found and I can totally relate. And I’m not in any hurry to give her the news. Are you?”
“What news, Willow?” Buffy was standing on the balcony staring down at them. They all looked up at an absolute loss for words. “Oh, I get it. Project Rescue Angel didn’t go so well, huh?”
Willow searched her eyes uncertainly. Her friend was wearing a leather coat that was way too big for her and the wiccan didn’t need to be told who the original owner was. Her voice held a weird calm that hadn’t been there earlier. Did the blond really understand what had happened or was she in some sort of denial? “We tried, Buffy, we really did. It didn’t work but we can always try again tomorrow.”
Buffy descended the staircase, balancing a wooden box under one arm. “No. No trying again. I-I’m grateful that you all want to do this but I don’t think it’s meant to work”
“What do you mean by that, Buffy?” Giles asked. He too was wary of Buffy’s detachment. He had expected rage or grief; this placid demeanor of hers was uncharacteristic and unnerving.
“I-I came across something of Angel’s. He kept diaries. I mean, a lot of diaries. This guy had a serious thing for the daily scribbling. He-he wrote about a special day, a day he and I shared a long time ago. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Cordelia?” She eyed Cordelia pointedly.
All eyes turned towards the brunette seer and she wavered between embarrassment and dismissal. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
“Well, would somebody clue me in ‘cause I’m still on the first chapter,” Xander complained.
Cordelia sighed and sat down on the circular sofa. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. Angel was human for one day. He thought he could live a normal life--with Buffy.”
“What? When did this happen?” Spike demanded.
Willow added. “Buffy, you never mentioned it to me.” She was surprised and hurt. She thought that Buffy and she had finished keeping secrets from each other.
“That’s because I didn’t remember it. Angel tried fighting this Mohair demon only he was too weak in his human form. He was afraid that I would take chances to save him and get other people hurt.”
That wasn’t news to Xander. He’d always disliked Buffy’s favoritism of Angel. Of course, her behavior with regards to Spike was much worse. “Well, for once, Deadboy was right on the money. I seem to recall a certain neck-biting incident that put our Slayergal in the hospital.”
Buffy ignored him. “He was human for only one day. Then he asked these mysterious Powers to take it back. Nobody remembered about it except for him. I only found out just now because I found his box.” Buffy tapped the article with her finger.
Cordelia added what little she knew. “I only knew because he told Doyle and Doyle told me.”
“Who’s Doyle?” Leslie asked. She looked at the other Slayers who wore expressions of equal confusion. They all felt as if they were coming in on the final episode of a long-running soap opera and everybody else knew the names, relationship and interplay of the characters while they were still struggling with the cast listing.
“He was the seer before me. He’s the one who gave me my visions back when they nearly killed me. Some guys give flowers; this one gave powers. Go figure,” Cordelia grimaced.
“So Angel was human. Then he gave it back. Oh!” Willow’s eyes widened as the implications caught her attention.
Buffy smiled sadly at her. Willow understood even if the others were a little slow to catch on. “That’s right. I’m thinking that was Angel’s chance for humanity. He gave it up so he doesn’t get another shot.”
“No, Buffy, you don’t know that!” Cordelia protested. “I’m the link to the Powers That Be, not you. They would have told me if Angel’s Shanshu had been cancelled.”
“They didn’t warn you about what would happen to Angel, did they? They didn’t warn me until it was too late. Way too late.” Buffy brushed her hand over the box she held. She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes again but her voice was resigned. “I-I think these Powers meant Angel to die. We can’t bring him back; they won’t allow it.”
She sank onto one of the red lobby sofas and Dawn sat down beside her. “Are you sure, Buffy? Like Willow said, she can try again tomorrow.”
“She can keep trying until she’s blue in the face. I don’t think it’ll work, Dawn,” was Buffy’s gentle reply.
Willow spoken tentatively. “Maybe we should just wait a little; see what happens. It took a while to work with you, Buffy.”
“I had to claw my way out of my own grave. Not fun but explains the delayed arrival. What does Angel have to get out of? His jar?” She stood up again, startling the others with her abrupt motion. “Angel is gone. I have to accept that. We have to accept that.” She turned to look at Cordelia, Wesley, Gunn and Fred and her gaze held mingled sympathy and acceptance.
“I know it’s going to be hard on you all. But you’re going to have to get through this without him. Just as I will.”
Buffy took a deep breath and ran her eyes over the entire assembly. “I’m going home now. I’m taking the green sand express. You don’t have to come with me, Dawn,” she added as her sister began to speak. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I’d like a little alone time.”
Her sister was worried about her; Buffy could see it in the anxious eyes trained on her. She gave her a hug and whispered into her ear. “Stay here and pack up Angel’s things. You can bring them all back with you. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”
Dawn blinked back tears and hugged her hard. “I’m holding you to that. ‘Cause if you do I’m telling.”
She kept her goodbyes to the others short and sweet. Buffy wasn’t one for long farewells and she wanted to get away from them quickly.
__________
In spite of her calm behavior, she had hoped--no, make that prayed--that Willow would succeed and bring Angel back to her. But there really was no chance of that happening. These Powers, whoever they were, didn’t give a rat’s ass about their Chosen champions. She was doomed to go through her life miserable and alone.
The spell complete, Buffy found herself back in the new Council basement. The box was laid lovingly down on the floor as she knelt beside it. She rested her forehead on the lid and drew a ragged breath…and then another. Silent tears trickled down over the polished wood as it bore witness to her anguish.
“B-buffy?” The sibilant sound seemed to drift through the space and Buffy’s head snapped up. She reached automatically for weapons only to realize with disgust that she had left them behind in her haste to return home. She stood up, her fists clenched, as her eyes darted around the darkened space.
“Who’s there? I’m warning you, I am so not in the mood for games. If you don’t drag yourself out right now where I can see you--”
“Buffy.” This time the utterance was stronger and coming from the far corner. She knew that voice and her heart began pounding against her ribcage as she slowly walked and then ran to the naked figure she could make out crouched on the floor.
“Angel? Oh my god. ANGEL!” She fell to her knees beside him, clasping the man who lay shaking against the wall. He started at her touch and then reciprocated with a fierce hug. Buffy gripped him as if terrified of letting him go. It took several moments for her to register the condition of the man in her embrace. It was Angel, warm, breathing--and human.
“B-buffy? Are you…” His voice was hoarse and he coughed in his effort to speak.
“Yes, Angel? Am I what?”
“Are you cookies yet?”
The question was foolish and she responded the only way she could--by giggling and then laughing hard. Tears ran down her cheeks again and she kissed him frantically all over his face. She pulled back to whisper, “I am. Cookies now and forever.”
“Good.” He leaned his head against hers. “Do you have any? I’m really hungry.”
Another hysterical giggle was his answer. She knew she should be calling one of the others but somehow she couldn’t make herself do anything so sensible. I’ll see what I can find.” The blonde woman stood up, bearing his weight, and belatedly remembered the coat she was wearing. She eased it off and draped it around his shoulders. “Here. It’s yours again.”
His smile was wavering but genuine in the dim light and her heart soared at the sight. She didn’t know why he was here and not in Los Angeles but she would ask no questions and make no objections. Not now. They had been blessed and Angel had received his reward at last.
Time to find those cookies.

Finis
A/N: Go to the next chapter for a special surprise!
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Whose Shanshu?