Aftermath part2

By
Margot Le Faye

"Is Tyler taking you?" Jackie asked her.

"Tyler?" Buffy asked blankly, staring down at the watch in her hand. Her hair was hanging to her waist, her voice was higher than it had been in years, and she looked down to find herself dressed in the long-forgotten plaid slacks and white t-shirt she had owned when she was fifteen. She glanced up at the remembered clock of Hemery’s tower, and found the time was exactly the same as the time on the watch: 11:45.

And she remembered what day it was, and what was going to happen, and then she remembered what Angel had told her about that day, and she looked wildly about to see if the car was there.

But it wasn’t.

Neither was Merrick. She sat on the steps, just as she had before, waiting until dark, but he never came. No one came. She didn’t receive her Calling. She wasn’t Chosen.

But her parents still argued that night, and she knew they were headed for divorce.

Buffy panicked, pacing in the too-small confines of her childhood bedroom. Not only wasn’t she the Slayer, she wasn’t even an adult. She was a thirty-year-old woman stuck in a teenager’s body, being forced to relive the most painful years of her life. How in the hell was that supposed to help matters?

"Do you really think we are that cruel?" an annoyingly familiar voice asked her.

"Whistler," she began, half relieved, half furious, to see him, lounging in the chair by her vanity table, as if he had been sitting there for hours, instead of having materialized right in front of her.

"The point isn’t to make you relive the pain," he said. "The point is to take the pain away."

"And how is being here supposed to do that?"

"It’s all a matter of time."

"Whistler," she said warningly.

"No vampires, Buffy. No demons. The last Slayer Lothos killed before you were called? She’s alive. And because it suits the purpose of TPTB, the Watchers are going to be given just enough knowledge of the relevant prophecies to understand that there’s a lull in the battle, and that they have to keep the knowledge alive for another thousand years. Oh, but they’re gonna give up on the whole eighteenth birthday Crucimentium thing, because without a real vampire to use, it’s going to be kind of pointless."

"That’s something," Buffy admitted. "But I still don’t see--"

"Part of the price. You’ll see even less. And then you’ll see more. Good night, kid. See you in about three years." He gestured, and the room spun about her, fading to black.

Buffy Summers wasn’t exactly shocked by her parent’s divorce, but it changed things for her, as did moving to the small town of Sunnydale, where her mother was given the opportunity of running her own gallery. Buffy grew up fairly quickly, and though she was able to maintain friendships with the kind of girls she used to hang out with, like Cordy and Harmony and Anya, she found herself comfortable with the less popular kids, too. She spent just as much time with Willow, Xander, and Xander’s goofy friend, Jesse, as she did with her more popular pals. Buffy found that she had pretty good diplomacy skills, and Cordy, Harmony and Anya didn’t give her too hard a time about the social pariahs she called friends.

The school librarian helped, too. Mr. Giles was kind of neat, full of lots of odd bits of information on history and literature, which were quickly becoming her favorite subjects. Buffy had felt instantly comfortable with the rather stuffy older man, and she ended up spending a lot of time in the library, studying. She even played matchmaker for him with the computer data teacher. Something told her that in this case, opposites really would attract. It did for a while, but by Buffy’s senior year at Sunnydale High, Jenny and Giles had parted ways, though they remained good friends. When Giles began seeing another woman, Olivia, the British woman and Jenny became close as well. Buffy’s other friends were happily paired off, too. After various false starts, Anya had ended up with Xander, Cordy with Jesse, and Willow with a very cool guitarist from a popular local band, Oz. Harmony was dating a guy who was a few years older: the former captain of the foot ball team, Daryl Epps, who had won a sports scholarship to UC Sunnydale.

Buffy herself had dated a number of guys, but none of them steadily and none of them long. Owen, Tom, Ben, Cameron and Scott. Tom, a rich college boy, had been something of a snob, and Buffy hadn’t gone out with him long. And Cameron had been a complete jerk, Swim Team Captain or no. But the others were all nice enough guys. Still, Buffy hadn’t really felt anything for them. Somehow, while kissing them was pleasant, there wasn’t any fire there. She did develop a bit of a crush on the Bronze’s most popular bartender, Spike. He was British, and had the most amazing blue green eyes in startling contrast to his dark hair. But Spike was wildly in love with his girlfriend, a bohemian type who read Tarot cards for a living. He flirted with Buffy, because his very nature was exuberant and flirtatious. But she quickly learned not to take him too seriously. Oddly enough, Spike developed a sort of older-brother protectiveness toward Buffy, and he kept assuring her that everything she was going through was perfectly normal.

"The fact that none of these guys really does it for you isn’t all that surprising, cutie," Spike said, using his favorite nickname for her as he heaped whipped cream atop her coffee mocha. "You’re a special girl: bright, passionate, committed. You deserve someone special. Just give yourself a little time."

"How much time?" Buffy grumbled. "I’m already the oldest living virgin in Sunnydale High."

Spike’s girlfriend, Drusilla, shook her head. "Don’t worry, Buffy," she said kindly, tapping one of the cards in the Tarot layout she had just done. "King of Swords: brown haired, brown eyed. He’s known suffering, but it’s only strengthened him."

"And when does this ‘King of Swords’ show up?" Buffy said doubtfully. Dru smiled at her again. "In time, Buffy. In time.

Despite everyone’s reassurances, by her senior year, Buffy fretted that there was something wrong with her. But everyone just kept saying that she simply hadn’t met the right guy yet, and that when she did, she would know.

It wasn’t that big a deal, she would tell herself. It wasn’t like she didn’t have anything else going on in her life. Buffy found herself, early on, with a passion for causes. She did a lot of volunteer work, and her friends teased her about her need to "fight the good fight," as Willow put it. But they admired her for it, too, and helped her when they could.

One of her closest friendships came out of that. She was doing volunteer work at the teen runaway hotline when a desperate, frightened, and angry girl named Faith called in from the streets. Buffy felt the connection with the other girl, even through the phone. Something in the other girl’s spirit, her refusal to be beaten down by the horrific circumstances in which she found herself got to Buffy. She talked Faith into coming into the local shelter, then followed up on her case. She encouraged the other girl to re-enroll in school. Faith’s home life was appalling: no way could she go back to that much abuse. Oddly enough, it was Jenny Calendar who took the girl in, legally arranging to become her foster mother, providing a more stable environment than Faith had ever known in her short, hard life. Between Jenny and Buffy, Faith began to do well in school. And she became, if anything, a more zealous volunteer for helping troubled teens than Buffy herself. When Faith turned her considerable energies to making things better, she did brilliantly. At graduation, Faith won a citizenship award from the hands of Mayor Allen Finch himself. She cried, thanking Buffy and Jenny from the stage. Buffy and Jenny cried, too; a photo of the three of them hugging while Faith clutched her award made the front page of the Sunnydale Herald.

Still, by the time she entered college, Buffy wasn’t so sure that there was anything normal about her non-existent love life. Not finding a long-term relationship was one thing. But never falling in love at all? Even Faith, who had put up a lot of barriers around herself, was in love. Owen had fallen for her pretty hard, and as it had been more than a year since he and Buffy had dated, Buffy had no problem with him moving on to one of her best friends. He had turned Faith on to literature, and she signed up for a lot of classes in poetry and arts when they registered for college.

The very first day of classes at UC Sunnydale seemed promising for Buffy, though. Two guys showed interest. Parker was a bit odd, a bit intense, but, as she told her friends at lunch, randomly adorable. The cute T.A from psychology was even more adorable. As she whispered to Willow, those were definitely good arms to have. And when his friend, Forest, made his own pass at her, Buffy definitely began to think that things might be changing for the better.

So, the next day, though she was a few minutes late for the first session of her ten o’clock art history class, she was in a pretty good mood. She was late because her favorite dress had gotten wrinkled in packing, and she needed to iron it out. For some reason, maybe because of all the male attention she was suddenly receiving, it was important to her to look her best. The dress was particularly flattering, but casual enough for class. It was cool and comfortable and very feminine. Just wearing it lifted her spirits. Still, she was a bit nervous about being late to the first lecture, and hurried into the assigned room.

And then that voice washed over her, a voice that caressed along her skin like velvet and started her heart pounding in her breast. Slowly, Buffy walked further into the large amphitheater, until she could see the speaker who owned that voice. Light streamed in through the open windows, bathing him, so she could see every detail, from his thick brown hair to his soft blue shirt, to his well-worn, faded jeans. He didn’t look all that much older than the freshmen to whom he was lecturing. She placed his age at twenty-five, maybe twenty-seven, tops. And looking at him, she had a moment of clarity: irrational as the thought might be, she knew that the reason she had never fallen in love was standing before her, and that if she wasn’t in love with him--instantly, the moment she saw him--she would never be in love at all. She shook her head. That thought was just plain crazy. She forced her attention back to the present, and to what he was saying.

". . .text will be supplemented by slides." He put down a thick volume and indicated the large screen behind him. He was tall. Maybe not the tallest man she had ever seen, but somehow more imposing. Riley, the Psych T.A., had good arms. But this guy had good everything. Buffy couldn’t move any farther into the room. She just stood at the edge of the row of seats, mesmerized. "We’re fortunate to have a world class art museum here in Sunnydale," the instructor went on, "and one term paper will involve a report on whichever of the many works in their collection takes your fancy. Of course, in order to find out which one does that, you’ll actually have to go to the museum."

A chorus of laughter greeted the instructor’s joke. He flashed a smile at his audience of eager students. Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anything as wholly gorgeous as that smile. He looked around, and noticed the young woman standing in the aisle. His smile changed just a little as his gaze met hers. Buffy felt as if something electric went through her, and she was devoutly grateful she had chosen to wear her most flattering dress.

"Hello, Miss. . .?" he said gently.

"Uh, Summers." she said softly.

"Well, Buffy, please have a seat." The way he said her name, like a caress. Surely she imagined that? And how had he known her first name, anyway? Was he that familiar with the class list already? This was a freshman introductory course, with about a hundred students. Down, girl, she told herself, trying to get her fantasies under control. Don’t read too much into his knowing your name. Maybe he just likes to get familiar with the names on his roll. Still, she could have sworn that he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from her, just as she had to do. But of course she had to be imagining that, as well. A guy as unbelievably handsome as he was had to be used to freshman coeds swooning over him every semester. She sighed, found a seat, and proceeded to do some swooning herself.

Like everyone else in the room, she hung on his every word. But that wasn’t just due to his good looks and wonderful voice. The instructor, Professor Williams, clearly loved his subject, was passionate about it, in fact. And he was able to communicate that passion to his students. Buffy soon found herself caught up in his enthusiasm, and couldn’t wait to rush out and buy her textbook so that she could get to work on the first assignment. The lecture period ended all too quickly. Buffy got up, wondering what excuse she could make to go down and talk to him. Well, she had been late to class. Maybe she should ask if she missed anything important? Then she realized that he was knee-deep in inquisitive students, and sighed, deciding she’d have to try her luck another time. She turned away, about to head for the exit when he called her name.

"Miss Summers!" She turned back to him, a little startled by the urgency in his tone. "Don’t leave without speaking to me first," he said firmly, then turned back to the students surrounding him. Buffy slowly descended the steps of the amphitheater, until she was standing to the side, watching as Professor Williams dealt patiently with the questions and requests directed at him. Gradually, all questions were answered, and all requests handled. The last student smiled and left.

"You wanted to see me?" Buffy said softly, a bit nervous. Up close, he was about a thousand times more gorgeous than when seen from a distance. Maybe being in this class wasn’t such a good idea. She was afraid she might spontaneously combust long before the semester even got going. His next words were sufficiently chilling, however.

"I’m afraid I can’t possibly let you stay in my class," he said, his brown eyes staring intently into hers.

"What?! But, why?"

"I’m not tenured. Hell, the ink’s barely dry on my doctorate. Some of my colleagues don’t have a problem dating their students, but I don’t want any questions about my integrity raised."

"Dating their students?" Buffy repeated, a bit dazed.

"Conflict of interests," he went on. "No way in hell can I be objective about your grades if we get serious about each other."

"Serious?" she said faintly. "Angel, are you sure?"

He stared at her. "How did you know my first name?" he asked softly, coming slowly toward her.

"How did you know mine?" she asked as softly, moving toward him in her turn. Something was stirring at the back of her mind; images as faded as old photographs, scattered and disjointed as remnants of a dream. She could see in his eyes that something similar was happening to him.

"How could I ever forget?" he asked a moment later, with a crooked smile that was achingly familiar, though she could swear she had never seen it before. Then the images came clearer, sharpening into distinct and painful focus, and forming, at last, an ordered picture. "If you don’t switch classes, I have to wait until the end of the semester to be with you," he said slowly, his eyes full of growing awareness as he came ever closer. The pictures in their minds stood out, crisp and uncompromising, every memory intact and complete. "And I think two hundred and eighty-seven years is long enough to wait for the woman you love, don’t you?" They were mere inches apart, and he reached his hand to touch her, tenderly cupping her cheek.

She smiled, tears streaming down her face, and she turned in toward the hand caressing her, placing a kiss against the palm before turning back and speaking to him. "Shouldn’t it only be two hundred and forty-four this year?"

"No," he denied. "I’m adding the past three years we relived to the total."

"Have you always remembered?" she asked.

"Not until now," he drew her into his arms, and she relished the familiarity of it, the security of being held against his heart while he rested his chin on the top of her head. "I’ve been in grad school," he went on, "with memories of growing up in Oregon, getting my undergraduate degree on a scholarship, and of losing my parents in a car crash a few years back. The only family I have is my younger brother, and his wife." Angel stopped, breaking into an exuberant smile as the realization hit him. Suddenly, he lifted Buffy in his arms, spinning her around in happiness. "Oh, God! Doyle! Doyle is alive, and he’s my brother! And he and Harry are happy this time."

"And Jesse!" Buffy agreed excitedly, as the wonder of it washed over her. "He’s been one of my best friends for years. And Jenny, Harmony, so many others."

"I guess we really did kick evil’s ass, that last time," he laughed, putting her down again and drawing her once more into his arms. Something tight squeezed Buffy’s heart. She had only heard him laugh like that, joyously and openly, once before, on the lost day that had been stolen from her, twice. And was now twice restored.

"I guess we did," she agreed. "So, what made you remember?"

He smiled that crooked smile again, the one that always made her heart ache. "I looked into your eyes, and I knew."

"Me too," she whispered, lifting her face for his kiss.

"So, what’s the verdict, then?" a third voice asked just before their lips met, interrupting them. Buffy wasn’t at all surprised to see who the voice belonged to. She looked up at the classroom clock. It was once more 11:45, and that didn’t surprise her, either.

"Whistler," she said, not moving from the warm, and dearly remembered shelter of Angel’s arms. "What verdict were you looking for?"

"The one about what happens next," he told her.

"What happens next," Angel growled, tightening his arms around the woman in his embrace, "is that Buffy and I get to live happily ever after, damn it."

"Hey, gees, relax! No argument there! That’s not the verdict I’m looking for."

"Then what is?" Buffy demanded.

"Was it worth it?"

"What?"

"We took back the pain, and we gave you a fresh start. All the things that hurt you? They never happened. All the things that brought darkness into your life? Gone. And, you can keep it that way. Say the word, and you’ll forget it all. You’ll go back to being just Buffy Summers, eighteen-year-old college student, and Assistant Professor Angel Williams, Art History instructor at UC Sunnydale."

"And if I don’t say the word?" Buffy queried.

"Well, behind door number one, you still get to be those things. But you get to remember everything that came before."

"Both of us?" Angel queried.

"At least." Buffy didn’t think too much of his odd choice of words, still dealing with the return of the memories that swamped her.

"All that darkness," she said, remembering the pain of Angelus’ return, the pain of Faith’s betrayal, a thousand moments of loss and regret. And she remembered, with sorrow, her own inability to go forward, to take the reward she and Angel had won at such a horrific price.

"You can leave the darkness behind," Angel assured her. "If you don’t want to remember it, then let’s put it away, part of a future and a past that never happened."

She looked up at him, and saw that he meant it. He would give up the memories of their prior time together if that were what she wanted them to do. And they would still be together. She knew that without a doubt. She was about to open her mouth and agree when another memory came to her.

She remembered what had happened next, the ice cream spilling on his chest, his comment about mortal coordination leaving a lot to be desired before she had shown him how perfect it could be.

And she remembered the rest, the pain and the bitterness and the slow freezing of her once passionate heart. Maybe she hadn’t been strong enough to face those memories when she first had the chance. But she’d had a respite, three years to live a normal life, without the pain and darkness.

And without the passion and love.

"What’s behind door number two?" she asked. The offer Whistler made was the most tempting offer she had ever received in her life, a chance for the normal life she had always wanted with the only man she had ever truly loved. Still, she remembered the happiness her friends had known in their own lives. Was it fair to take away the future they had known? In this altered world, would the daughters Tara and Willow had by Oz, Anya and Xander’s twins, Giles children with Olivia, even be borne? Since everyone seemed to be gravitating toward the mates they had chosen before--a memory of a dark-haired Spike kissing Dru at the Bronze made her smile--she had to hope that things would work out that way. But she wanted to be sure. She needed to know all her options and all the ramifications of her actions.

"Door number two," Whistler said. "We’re back in Angel’s apartment, twelve years from now."

And Jenny, Jesse, Daryl, Theresa and a dozen others she loved would be dead, Harmony would be a vampire, and a hundred good men would die because of Adam and the misbegotten attempts of the Initiative to turn demons into a weapon for the U.S. Government.

"I think I’ll pass."

"Good choice," Angel agreed, before asking, "Is there a door number three?"

"Door number three was an escape clause in case the two of you didn’t come together. Not that anyone doubted that you would but. . . in door number three, Buffy gets to live out her life in the twenty-first century. . . and young Liam never met Darla that night in Galway."

"No!" Buffy and Angel shouted in unison.

Whistler grinned. "Didn’t think you’d go for that one." He stopped smiling. "So, the question is, what do you want? Forget the whole thing, and go on as you have been, or are you willing to open door number one?"

"One thing," Buffy said. "I’m glad that the evil that happened before has been reversed. But what about the good? My friends were happy. They had beautiful, wonderful children whom they loved dearly."

"Hey, kid, if something’s meant to be, it’s meant to be." Whistler said with a grin. Buffy relaxed. That was one burden she hadn’t wanted to carry, purchasing her own happiness at the expense of her friends’. For once, she didn’t have to put the welfare of the world before her own needs. She could make a choice based solely on what she wanted.

"All that darkness," Buffy said wistfully. "I could be happy without it. But," she paused, thinking over what she wanted to say. "I think that just knowing the price I paid for that happiness somehow makes it just a little bit sweeter, for having been so bitter before." She looked up at Angel anxiously. "Is that all right? Do you want to forget? It was so much worse for you." She remembered the soul-deep sorrow Angel had borne as long as she had known him. If she could spare him that, maybe she should.

"Forget the pain and death?" he said quietly. "Part of me would give anything to do that, to forget the guilt." He drew a deep breath. "But I’d have to give up the memory of seeing you in the sunlight when you were Called, walking with you down a snow covered street at Christmas, eating ice cream in bed. Like you said, Buffy, part of the sweetness comes from having passed through the bitter, first."

"Door number one?"

"Door number one," he affirmed.

Whistler smiled. "It’s been swell, kids. Hope you don’t mind my saying I’ll be happy if we never meet again? In this lifetime, anyway."

"No," Buffy said with a returning smile. "We won’t mind." The demon gave them a jaunty wave and disappeared.

"We ought to get going, too," Angel said. "There’s another class in here in less than half an hour."

"And I have to get over to registration and switch courses. Although I’m not really convinced that’s absolutely necessary. Are you sure you can’t be objective? I mean, I can be a very, very good student. Or, I could audit! That way, you don’t have to give me a grade, and I can sit in class every day and moon over how dreamy my boyfriend is."

"Boyfriend, hell!" Angel growled. "We can get a wedding license in a matter of days."

"Okay!" Buffy said cheerfully. "So I can moon over how dreamy my husband is," she amended.

"I don’t think anyone can object to my bride sitting in on my classes," Angel said thoughtfully.

"I should hope not!" Buffy said laughing, as, holding hands, they stepped out into the noonday sun.

Afterward, they understood Whistler’s cryptic statements. They weren’t the only ones to remember.

"I miss my babies," Willow said quietly. "But I know that we’ll still have them. And the idea that they won’t have to face the kinds of evils we did, that the world is going to be a whole lot safer for them this way? Buffy, that’s a gift I’d do more than just relive a dozen years for." She laughed. "Besides, now that I really know what I’m getting myself into, I’m going to be a whole lot better prepared!"

"I’m not looking forward to going through labor again," Anya groused. "I’m paying a lot more attention to in Lamaze classes this time around."

"Does anyone remember what the really hot stocks were?" the ever practical Cordelia wondered.

Cordelia had broken up with Jesse even before her memories returned. She fretted, remembering Wesley, and their own happiness. So, when he arrived as the new classics professor at UC Sunnydale, and his own memories were perfectly intact, she was vastly relieved.

Harmony, Jesse, and Daryl Epps had no memories of having died in another time line, while Spike and Dru, freed of their demons and ensouled once more, were not plagued with the horrors those demons had committed.

Jenny Calendar remembered some things, but not all.

"I can’t believe my family had so much power," she said. "As things are now, what we know of magic is largely rumor and superstition, like everyone else. And I know I died. But the details are blurry."

"Perhaps that’s just as well," Giles said, wishing his own memories were a little more blurred than they were.

Faith took it hardest. "The things I did--"

"All undone," Buffy said firmly. "Allen Finch and Professor Lester are still alive. And you have to remember, even then, you changed. You stood up to your demons and you tried to make things right. You turned yourself in to the police, and tried to make a fresh start. Well, now you really have a fresh start. You’ve done so much good."

Faith glanced at her award from the mayor, a man she had killed in another life, and her lips turned up in a small smile. "Yeah," she said. "I guess I have."

As the years passed, the differences in the lives they had before and the lives they lived now grew smaller. The same children were born, to the same couples. But other couples were also around, and more children were born.

"Do you mind that I waited?" Buffy asked Angel as they picked out wallpaper for the nursery. They were sitting on the couch in their living room, going through sample booklets. It was a few months past her thirtieth birthday, and Buffy had just learned that she was going to have their first child.

"I wanted you to wait," Angel reassured her. "I wanted us to have the time together we didn’t have before."

"Truly?" she asked.

"Truly," Angel said drawing her into his arms. "The aftermath of the final battle took a lot out of both of us. The pain of all those years we lived apart, then the memories being returned when we could finally be together." He shook his head. "We needed some time just for ourselves. Time to heal, time to replace all the bitter with sweet."

"But it is sweet now, isn’t it?" Buffy sighed, snuggling close. She rested her head on his chest, relishing the warmth of his body next to hers, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, the security of his strong arms holding her.

"Very," Angel agreed, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and resting one hand gently on the almost imperceptible swell of her belly. "Very sweet indeed, my love. Very sweet, indeed."

And they all, and I do mean all, lived happily ever after.

The End.

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