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“It doesn’t matter. If Dawn dies, I’m done with it. I’m quitting.”
Buffy left Giles alone, her heart too sore to stay sitting in that training room one more second with him. She loved that man like a father, but there were times - too many really - where he’d let her down. Buffy wished that she could say that this was the first time, maybe she’d have an easier time forgiving him for saying the unforgivable.
For saying she’d have to let Dawn die. Actually, no. Not just let Dawn die, but actively kill her, to take the ability for Glory to unleash hell away from the hell goddess entirely. Like it was that easy a choice for Buffy to make. Maybe it would’ve been, once upon a time.
“Buffy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, you wanna come and help with the reading…?”
Willow, and Xander. Her two best friends in the world, who had been with her pretty much since the beginning, and even they couldn’t understand why she was like this. This was the second time Buffy had been asked, no, encouraged , to sacrifice someone she loved, and this was the second time that both her best friends ignored what it would put Buffy through so that they could live with their own guilt just a little easier.
Maybe she was being too harsh on them, but Buffy didn’t think so. It had always been like that.
“I’m not one for reading, Xand.” Buffy attempted some facsimile of a smile, saw clearly that it didn’t work to ease him on her state of mind, “I need to-”
“It’s okay, Buffy.” Willow interrupts gently, “I think we have it handled. Why don’t you…”
What was there for Buffy to do right now? She was a fighter. A Slayer. If what Senaya had said in Buffy’s vision was true… if Buffy went through with what her friends wanted her to to Dawn… She was a killer as well.
Death is your gift.
If Dawn died, Buffy would let the world burn.
“I need to make a phone call.” Buffy turned on her heel, heading back to Giles’s office, ignoring him as he came out of the training room, and closed the door behind her. She just needed a minute alone. Or a day. Or…
How was Buffy supposed to do this. Again ?
It had seemed so simple before, with Acathla opening his mouth behind Angel, the vortex there and ready to swallow the earth whole. There had been no other choice, and Buffy had made it because that’s what she had to do, she’d had to send the man she loved to hell to save the world. Buffy might be able to acknowledge that she hadn’t dealt with that choice in the best way, and she could acknowledge that she would never really open up to her friends about it ever again, but she’d never actually regretted that choice. Not really.
Because Dawn’s life had been at risk, and Buffy was a sister before she was a Slayer.
A tear slipped out from behind her lids, and Buffy swiped it away angrily. There was always another choice. How many apocalypses had she lived through now? There was always another way. There was always a bomb, or a conveniently placed piece of broken wood, or a magic spell. Maybe the gang hadn’t found it yet, but hers wasn’t the only gang.
Buffy’s heart pounded as she quickly dialled the LA number she had memorised, but never called. Even after her mom had died. Buffy hadn’t told Angel what had happened, it had been Willow who’d called Cordelia, who’d passed on the message.
Of course Angel had shown up for her in that moment of need. Buffy allowed hope to swell in her heart as the line connected and it started to ring. There was just enough time, maybe Angel, or Wes, or - God - even Cordy could find the solution that Buffy couldn’t.
Because there was one other choice Buffy could make to save Dawn, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Buffy wanted Dawn to live so she could watch her grow up-
“Angel Investigations, we help the helpless! Leave a detailed message including your problem and your budget, and we’ll get back to you!”
Another tear rolled down her face as Buffy let out a despairing chuckle at Cordelia’s cheery message, thinking how much Anya would love Cordelia’s love of money that apparently hadn’t gone away in all these years.
Of course Angel wouldn’t be there, ready and waiting to take her call, their relationship was long past that now, Buffy hadn’t even spoken to him since he’d helped her at her mom’s funeral. Thinking about it, Buffy was certain there had been stuff with Angel she should’ve picked up on and asked about that night, there had been a dulled edge to him that she hadn’t noticed with everything else going on.
Now she probably wouldn’t get a chance to ask him about it.
The beep sounded, and Buffy’s throat closed up. It was too late to ask for his help, Angel was out saving lives, as he had vowed to do forever to atone for his past. No way was Buffy going to make him think he’d failed at saving hers. It wasn’t his fault, and she would never stop loving him. Another silent second passed, and Buffy cleared her throat and put a smile into her voice;
“Hey, Angel. It’s me. Uh, Buffy…”
***
Angel had thought he was used to pain. There was nothing like the pain inflicted in a hell dimension bent on torturing you for failing to bring about the apocalypse after all. The pain inflicted by forcing a soul onto an evil incarnate demon was no joke either. Both different types of pain of course, but both had torn him apart. Literally and figuratively.
“Angel… are you? I-I mean, I k-know, you’re-”
“You should stay the night,” Angel murmured over his shoulder at Willow, gesturing vaguely at the entryway, “we live in a hotel now. Lot’s of rooms.”
“I need to get back. Angel, can we-”
He didn’t listen. Angel didn’t want to say it out loud, but he couldn’t listen to another gentle word from Willow’s mouth right now. She could stay or go, it didn’t matter anymore.
Heavy steps led him to his office - technically Wes’s office now, but he didn’t think the man would begrudge him this solitude right now - and away from the soft murmur of Willow’s pleas. Angel left her with Wes and Gunn and Fred. Cordy had surprised him by bursting into tears at the news and rushing away. Angel thought he knew why, but he didn’t have the energy to dwell on Cordelia’s guilt over not having a vision that could’ve saved Buffy. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
Was it his?
It was Angel’s nature to blame himself, it was what he did for everything, everyday, from all the atrocities committed in the past, to that one time he moved some of Cordelia’s chocolate out of the way and into the beam of sunlight where he’d left it and the chocolate had melted. Cordy had been so upset-
Buffy was dead. For good this time. Gone-
Pain - different and familiar at the same time - ripped through Angel’s body. He hadn’t been there to help Buffy, he could’ve stopped it, he would’ve given his own life for Dawn’s, anything , so that Buffy hadn’t had to-
I didn’t know, she never asked for help, I couldn’t have known-
Angel grabbed tufts of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as all the useless platitudes ran through his head, louder and harsher at each go around his skull-
Buffy-
Angel lashed out, sending his arm striking out and throwing everything on the desk flying against the opposite wall and crashing to the floor. Angel heard a click, but was too busy picking up the desk chair, ready to throw it through the door, when he heard Buffy’s voice.
Everything stopped.
“Hey, Angel. It’s me. Uh, Buffy… I ummm… well, you’re probably busy, you know, saving a cat in a tree, or a damsel in a tree, I don’t know what Cordy’s got you doin’ nowadays-”
Angel dropped the chair and ran to the miraculously intact answering machine, holding it gently. He ignored the tear that rolled down his face, bubbling out a laugh as Buffy teased him through the speaker.
“- anyway, I was going to ask you something, b-but… well I can’t remember what it was so… look, Angel, I just wanted to thank you. For being there for me when I needed it. You know, at mom’s…”
Angel could almost picture Buffy then, like she was right in front of him. How her eyes would drop to the floor, how her jaw would clench as she swallowed words she couldn’t bear to speak. He could almost feel her hair that he would’ve undoubtedly felt against his palm as he brushed it away from her face so she could look at him.
If he’d been there…
“Anyway, I didn’t say it that night, but uh… I hope you’re okay too. You’ve been through hell as well. I might not have noticed it then, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope life is treating you better now.”
A sob escaped Angel’s throat. A day ago he’d been walking through sunshine and Buffy had been dead amongst rock and glass.
“... so… look, I have to go. There’s some big thing that… well, it’s a whole thing, but the gang is finalising some stuff, and I have a magic hammer so that’ll be fun, but… I love you, Angel. I wish things had been different.”
The plastic cracked as those words came through the small speaker.
Things had been different.
Angel had been human, had held Buffy against his own heartbeat, and the Powers had made him believe that Buffy would die sooner if he’d stayed human. If he’d loved her longer…
“I’ll speak to you soon, okay? Bye.”
The machine broke into pieces in his hands, the roar escaped his throat.
Buffy had died, and it was his fault after all.