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PART 8 "I want you to join me in the kitchen for dinner tonight," Angel stated one evening. For a moment, he'd thought she hadn't heard him but then he realized she'd stopped drawing in the "journal" he'd made for her. He'd hoped she could use the diary to work on her feelings, maybe improve her English if she wanted. He'd found, instead, that all her scribbling in it was just that: scribbling. He thought he'd feel guilty for having opened the book and snooped; instead he was just disturbed. And rapidly growing desperate. In a more positive moment, he'd told himself it was because she couldn't remember how to read or write, but when he'd tried to show her, she'd run off into the corner and hidden herself again. Fearing a repeat of the Roff incident, he'd let it rest. "Buffy? I want you to join me in the kitchen. Come on, love. The Roffs, servants, even the Brinda are all celebrating Brona down at the…." Square, they were at the Square, he'd been going to say. He didn't know how mention of a Square would go over. Fuck. "Buffy, they're all out," he continued, hoping his desperation wasn't showing. "It's just you and me. It's safe. I want you to come down with me." Buffy whimpered and shook her head the teeniest bit. "Please, Angel, no." Encouraged by her first words in over a month, he walked to where she was sitting and knelt beside her, using a finger to raise her eyes to meet his. "I'll protect you, love. I promise you. You're safe." His heart clenched when he saw how sad and scared she was. Taking a chance, he leaned in and quickly brushed his lips over hers. "Come on," he whispered, a small, reassuring (he hoped) smile on his lips. She held his gaze and he found himself insanely happy that she was even considering his request. Not giving her too much time to think about it, he took her hand, raised her to her feet and, as she held on to him for dear life, led her out of their suite and down into the main part of the house. ** As the warm season returned, Buffy found that she was going stir crazy. That said, she was still frightened of straying too far from Angel. He'd talked her into training and, as he had promised, she was indeed feeling more confident but still, she was terrified to venture out of the main part of the house. Even the grounds seemed unsafe. She was standing by the window in their sleeping chamber – bedroom, Angel'd said was the word – looking down at Tarana Square, squinting to try and see what wares were being peddled in the marketplace that day. Over the past two months, her observations had led her to the knowledge that the Tar was much different than the Pava. Things seemed more… relaxed. Mates appeared to have more freedom; inside the walls of the Fortress, they were not tethered to their Masters and walked beside, not behind, them. Additionally, she could see that mates often spoke to their Masters in public and for as long as she'd watched the Square, she'd never seen a Master discipline his mate with more than a light slap on the cheek. In the Pava, there had been few humans. In the Tar, the demon and human populations appeared to be almost equal in number. Buffy was amazed that the different races seemed to get along well enough, that the marketplace served both equally. All in all, the Tar seemed more civilized than the Pava. She didn't know if this was the result of Angel's rule or not, but, clearly, the Tar was a peaceful place to live. Still, appearances could be deceiving. "We could go, you know," Angel said, entering the room quietly. "The Brinda said they have some beautiful blue fabrics that would 'match your pale coloring perfectly.' *Her * words," he said with a shrug. She smiled at seeing him but then shook her head and looked again at the market. "All those people and…. there's no way it's safe, Angel. What if one of them…. I don't know…." He moved closer to her and kissed her neck. She loved to feel the tickle of his lips as they brushed across the raised scar left behind from the mating. "You're my mate, Buffy. No one will touch you. Mates' bonds are sacred in the Fortress, you know that. And beyond that, you've been training…. But nothing's going to happen. I'll be with you the whole time. And, if you want, we could even take Darn and Borat with us to act as sentries. You'd be safe with me alone but with the three of us, there'd be no way for a problem. What do you say?" She hesitated but continued to look down. "Blue?" she whispered after a moment, biting her lip. "Colored garments would be nice and if I remember correctly blue was my favorite color. Or, pink. Was it pink?" He pulled her close to him. "What do you like now? Isn't that what's important? The life you know now?" She frowned and stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. "But it's all… it's all so… ugly. My life… it's all so ugly. I want… I want a happy life with you, I do. It's just that the rest…. "I mean… how… *how* could he do that to me, Angel? How?" she whispered, tears beginning to flow down her face as she brought up her "Penance" for the first time since the blizzard. "What kind of man was he? Why are…. Angel, I'm just… I'm so scared all the time and I just feel…. I can't get clean, Angel, I'm so dirty and disgusting and I can't get clean and I can't seem to forget. I *want* to forget, Angel. I want to…. I want us to make love again, and I want to not be so scared. I'm so scared all the time. And… it hurts. It hurts that I can't remember my people. I want to remember them and I just can't! And I *hate* that the main reason I want to return to Earth is so I can KILL him. I want him to die a painful, excruciating death. I lay in bed… and I find I wake up and all I've been dreaming of is killing him, making him bleed, making him hurt - all the ways I can make him hurt and torture him - but then I want to bring him back here just so the Roffs can balance him… so I can kill him again and again and what kind of person does that make me? You say I'm a good person but what kind of person am I when all I want to do is what was done to me? Doesn't that make me HIM? Doesn't that make me even dirtier and disgusting? And I want to kill him, Angel. I want to kill him – I want to MAKE HIM HURT! She paced the room and she knew she was acting crazy but she couldn't stop. "I mean, I want to go get some fucking blue fabric and I'm too afraid! To go into the town Square where I am Queen, where no one by any rights can touch me but, every time I think of it, I see Ma'a Square and I remember them touching me… so many hands, God, so many hands, and… and they were laughing at me like I was nothing and I didn't even get how I was just trying to survive, that the fact they were treating me like I was nothing didn't even register because I *was* nothing! A slave… a prisoner. I've spent my whole life… or at least the fucking part of my life that I can fucking remember, as nothing, as less than nothing, as fucking currency… as a toy and I–" She took a deep breath. "And I thought…. And for all that time, Angel, I was *sure* that I had done something really horrible, like killed someone or stolen something or… I just knew there had to be some reason for them to keep me there, I mean why would they keep me there if it wasn't something horrible? It never occurred to me that I'd been *sold*, that I was *kidnapped* and…. Angel, how am I supposed to go home when all I want to do is kill him and what's worse, how am I supposed to go home when they'll know when I get there that I was *stupid* enough to think that my Penance–" "Buffy," Angel said, grabbing her arms to stop her, "you were NOT stupid. You were a victim. You did *nothing* wrong. Take that back!" Her breath caught as she looked up at him. "But I *feel* so stupid. I should have known, Angel. How could I let that happen?" "You didn't know, love." He brushed her hair back from her face. "They… the balancing. Buffy, it's not like you're willfully repressing memories. Balancing... it heals you but it also kills your memories. There's no way to fight that. It's a way to control you. And they wanted to control you. "Love…. I get that you want to kill Quentin. I think… I'll let you decide what to do, ultimately, but Buffy, if you didn't want to kill him I'd think something was wrong. He did… he did the worst things to you, Buffy–" Angel said hoarsely. "He just… he's a… a… sick fuck and he deserves more than death. A lifetime in Hell is more than he deserves. Take it from me." Take it from him? That meant something… what did that mean? And then he pulled her close, so close she almost couldn't breathe and she melted into him… no longer caring about anything other than holding him. God, those thoughts… she hadn't been able to put them into words but they'd been clouding her mind. She felt some sort of weird relief now that she'd gotten them out. Not better really but relieved. After a moment, she left his arms and went to the dressing and washing room, intent on splashing some cold water on her face to try to calm her tear-stained skin. Having cooled down a little, she re-entered the room where Angel stood wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands as he, now, stared down towards the Square. Intellectually, she knew he was right. None of this was her fault. But still…. She needed a break from all the Quentin-death thoughts. And Angel… she hated to see him cry. He deserved so much more. "Blue, you said?" she asked quietly, terrified by what she was suggesting. She crossed to him and laid a hand on his arm and gently rubbed it. His breath was shuddering and once again, he wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. After collecting himself, he choked out, "Blue, definitely blue." After a moment, she pulled back from him, and trying to be brave, smiled widely. "Well, let's get the boys and go shopping! I seem to remember liking shopping. I know you want me to live in the moment, but as of this moment, I'm declaring liking shopping, so…." He stopped her babbling with a kiss and, chuckling, took her hand and pulled her from the room. *** After the "very successful" (Buffy's words - they'd bought a lot) trip to the marketplace, Buffy seemed to sort of turn around. People had left her alone in the Square and that, coupled with her increased confidence in her fighting abilities, seemed to allow her to relax when outside. She would spend hours at the marketplace, guarded by either him or one of his pran, looking over the wares and speaking to the craftsmen. She seemed happier than she'd been since they'd reunited. Her confidence and happiness had spilled over at home as well. She'd become more playful, more flirtatious, and had very quickly - to his shock and delight – reignited their romantic and sexual relationship. Also at her prodding, Angel had renewed their English lessons and after six months she could read and write at what he estimated was around an eight year old's level and her speaking, though heavily-accented, was actually pretty understandable. Things at the Tar, itself, remained peaceful. Occasionally, splinter groups outside the walls of the Fortress would get ideas about overthrowing him but Angel found that the Tarana people on the whole were very dedicated to him. Several times he'd only learned of a problem after a local had handled the situation on his behalf. Of course, at those times, he would reward them handsomely. He was happy to do so. With the Tarana handling his battles, he could stay home and spend more time with Buffy. Their lives were good. Which was exactly why he didn't want to bring up returning to Earth. When Giles' contact, Lorne, had located Buffy for them, his intel had shown that it would be an arduous process to get her back. Due to that process and the time "difference," he'd promised Giles he would return in seven days. That gave him five years almost to the day to locate Buffy on Bethara and bring her home. That time was almost up. And he knew that, deep down, he was avoiding bringing up the return because every time he thought about it, he was overwhelmed with terror and dread. He'd already lost her twice… he didn't know if he could survive a third time. When he'd come back from Hell, seeing her every day but being unable to touch her, to love her, had practically killed him. And from her standpoint…. He knew that once she knew the truth of the curse and its break clause… of how they knew there was a break clause in the first place… she'd be horrified. But he also knew that once she heard all that he'd done as Angelus, of how he'd hurt her and her "family" so badly, her horror would quickly turn to hate. How could it not? The pre-Betharan Buffy may have forgiven him, but for this Buffy, he was all she had. She'd come such a long way since they'd left the Pava, but with this breach of trust…. There was no way this would end any way other than badly. And even if she forgave him, on Bethara, they could be together. They could be happy… *he* could be happy… they could make love to each other whenever they wished. On Earth, though, the curse was still very much an issue. Something about the Betharan dimension changed his physiology - this he'd known from Lorne - but when they returned to Earth, the curse and its "limitations" would return instantly. He knew that Buffy knew about his "Earth sun allergy" as she liked to call it and the fact that on Earth he didn't eat food, rather he drank blood, but, despite starting the conversation several times, he'd never gone into the curse and how it limited him – limited *them*… how on Earth, the only way to stay safe was to stay apart. What were they going to do? Lorne had invited Angel to work for him in Los Angeles upon his return, if he was feeling dangerously happy or frustrated being around her again. While Angel was grateful for the option, that wasn't a satisfactory solution in the least. Somehow he'd have to "suck it up" and be strong. As hard as never making love to her was going to be, he knew it would be criminal to leave her. In Buffy's world, the only Sunnydale elements she knew were herself and Angel. Even Quentin was only a name, a moniker to be hated. Nothing more, nothing less. He'd asked the Brinda to prepare a picnic lunch of Buffy's favorite foods. That afternoon, he was taking Buffy deeper into the grounds to her favorite spot, a grassy area by a small brook that ran through the low lying hills. It was there, over a meal, that he would break her heart. *** "You want to tell me what's bothering you?" Buffy asked, in a gentle voice, as they finished up their sizable lunch. Angel froze. She could practically smell his fear. "Angel, is something wrong? God… am I… I'm not going to be a Slayer again – like at the Pava, am I?" "What? No!" Angel cried, his voice filled with disgust. "Buffy, I told you. That's never going to happen again. *Never.* I promise you that, okay?" She nodded, confused, but decided to wait him out. "I… Buffy… there's some things we need to talk about… things, uh… things I just…." "It's okay, Angel," she said placing her hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. "Just tell me." Angel's eyes closed, his brow furrowing as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. After clearing his throat several times, he continued. "I… Well, Buffy- Okay. You know how I told you about Lorne helping me to find you – how he told me you were in this dimension?" She nodded. "Well… when I left to come get you, I promised Giles I'd find you and bring you home… seven days after I left. Time moves differently here and–" "It's time, isn't it?" she said, her voice choked, her grip tightening on his arm. Angel stared into her eyes for a moment and then nodded slowly. Buffy was terrified. She'd tried – so hard – to remember her life on Earth but, to date, she could recall nothing. Angel had told her stories but that was all the information she had. Nothing came originally from her mind – it was all only things related by him. Still… it was her duty, right? She was the Slayer there – a different kind of Slayer there – one that had to fight and protect. At least that's what he'd said. "When do we need to go?" she asked quietly. "Right away?" She watched Angel swallow. "We'd need to go within the next week or two." She nodded and began to rise but looked back at him when he grabbed her hand. "There's more, Buffy. More you need to know." Sitting beside him again, she struggled to retain her composure as he continued. "There's… things on Earth – things that happened there that you need to know about. Things that are going to happen once we get back. "Relax, Buffy," he said, with a sad smile, patting her hand reassuringly. "It has nothing to do with how you got here… or it does, but it's not going to lead to you coming back to the Pava. I would never let that happen. I promise you that." She frowned for a moment but then nodded, encouraging him to continue. "But Buffy… you know I can't go out in the sun there – I told you that. But there are other things about being there… other limitations or circumstances or whatever you want to call them. There's - I need to tell you something about me that you are not going to like… and you'll have to trust me when I say how bad it is because you won't remember. Okay?" She nodded, worried. Taking her hand, he said, "I… Well, on Earth you know I'm a vampire. And – vampires are evil, Buffy…. Like the parnazya here. They are soulless and evil." "You're not ev– " "No, I'm not. But – well, the reason I have a conscience is because I hurt a girl – a gypsy girl – about 100 years ago in Eastern Europe – a region on Earth. Her kin cursed me with a soul… a conscience. It was devastating to me but ultimately, I'm glad it happened because now I can help people. I will never redeem myself but I can at least try to prevent other people from getting harmed by other parnazya… vampires. "But Buffy – they *cursed* me. It's a curse. And because it's a curse it has limitations. If I experience any happiness – any *real* abiding happiness – my soul is taken away and I become like the parnazya here – like the old Tar. I – we know about the 'break' in the curse, Buffy… because–" She watched him swallow hard and despite her fear, she reached up and stroked his cheek, hurt when he shrugged her off. "We know because it happened, Buffy. We – we were in love there. I know you know that – but we were in love and we made love and Buffy, I was so happy, I felt so… loved – felt so much more than I deserved and… then it happened. I felt my soul ripped away and – Buffy, I was very dangerous when I was soulless and I became that again. I hurt you, love, so badly. I … I killed Giles' mate, I threatened you and your friends… your mother. I was – God, Buffy – when I got my soul back, I just… I –" As he lapsed into silence, Buffy struggled to take in what he'd said. He'd turned into a being like the former Tar. A shiver ran up her spine remembering what the Tar was like – how cruel he was, how he'd taken so much pleasure in harming her, hurting her… destroying her. His maniacal laughter…. Angel's maniacal laughter when he confronted the Pava. God, she remembered that. She'd been terrified. "Buffy–" "What does this mean, Angel? What does this mean for us? When we go back… what's going to happen… how do we make sure you're safe?" He studied her for a moment, frowning, and then stood, avoided her eyes, and began to pace. "We– well, things would be different. We couldn't spend a lot of time together, especially not alone. We'd have to be very careful. We'd - Buffy, we won't be couple when we get back there. You – you'll have to make your own life. I'll always be in the shadows, Buffy, I'll always protect you. But our relationship, the life we have here would be – will be – done." "No!" she gasped, doubling over and beginning to rock herself, struggling not to cry, and failing - sobbing as he knelt beside her and grabbed her and forced her to look at him. "I *love* you, Buffy. I will always love you. Never forget that. You can – if you want to move on – date someone else – mate with someone else, I will still love you and protect you. But you deserve a full life and I won't stop that." "I deserve *you*, Angel. I want you. I love you. I don't know if I can live without you. I don't know… I don't *want* to…." She trailed off as she began to cry in earnest. "I'm so sorry, Buffy, so sorry," he said, pulling her against him and rocking her gently. "We– I promised him we'd go back and… we have to go back. Your mother is incredibly worried. And the Hellmouth… Sunnydale's on a Hellmouth and it's being guarded by four high school students and a Watcher. All humans. The Slayer… you are the Slayer, Buffy. You are the guardian of the Hellmouth. The Hellmouth needs you. It needs *us*." She stared up at him for a long moment, tears streaming down her face. He was clearly devastated too… and seemed needlessly - in her opinion - guilty. She forced herself to steel her resolve and not to add to his pain. Anger flooded her as she swiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She'd just gotten him back… just gotten her life back. But she understood… she knew deep down he was right. She felt a strong sense of duty– coming from who knew where. She was *the* Slayer. Her mother, her friends, her Watcher… despite the fact that she couldn't remember them, they'd loved her once and she had an obligation to protect them. She had no choice. "Let's do it," she said sternly, standing and storming back towards the Castle. *** Angel held an old book with a horned beast on the cover in his left hand, his right hand tightly gripping Buffy's. She hadn't spoken much since the picnic, spending a lot of time alone in the garden with her journal. She said she was trying to come to terms with things. Her absence left Angel more than ample time to think. No risk of losing the soul to happiness here, he thought bitterly. She stood patiently beside him in her best blue robe, a small pack containing her clothing, journal and some trinkets slung over her shoulder. As soon as he said the words they'd be back in LA. He couldn't bring himself to do it. "Angel…," she said, looking up to him sadly. "Before we go…. Kiss me." He groaned softly and, pulling her close, kissed her with a punishing force. He wanted her to remember… he didn't want her to ever forget or doubt his love for her. He was terrified. When he pulled away, she nodded at him, stubbornly committed to their fate. After a final, firm kiss to her forehead, he gripped her hand tighter, squeezing so hard that it hurt, and began: "Prkta nah ta'ehk funul prktoi ya a'she orq na tak…."
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