From: Ktbookworm@aol.com
disclaimer in first part
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A small ray of sun streamed in from a gap in the curtains,
hitting Buffy's
face as she lay on the couch. That brightness on the other side
of her closed
eyelids, accompanied by the conviction that she was being
watched, prompted
the petite girl to do something anyone that knew her would have
said was
impossible; Buffy Summers, Slayer, voluntarily opened her eyes,
wide awake
before seven AM.
Buffy blinked in
the morning light, taking in her surroundings.
Remembering her talk with Angel the previous night, Buffy smiled
and pushed
herself into a sitting position. A movement of to one side caused
her to
tense and scan the room carefully. When she was Whistler in a
chair near the
courtyard entrance, she relaxed only slightly, unable to believe
she'd missed
sensing the demon's presence. "What are you doing here
Whistler? It's a
little early isn't it? The ascension's not for a couple of months."
"I'm not here
about that, thank goodness. It's someone else's mess,"
Whistler replied, shaking his head in disgust. "Renegade
slayers. Jeeze." The
short demon approached carefully, indicating a small bag and a
cup of what
smelled like hot chocolate on the coffee table. "I got after
the grouch went
to bed, and watching you sleep wasn't my idea of fun either. I
went out to
get something to eat, and seeing how Angel doesn't have anything
to eat,
brought you back something."
"What is this,
a peace offering?" Buffy asked wryly, taking a careful
sip of her cocoa. Peering into the bag, she pulled out a
blueberry muffin and
a chocolate donut, and started on her breakfast. Whistler winced
a little,
turning away to start pacing. Buffy sighed. "Why do I have
the feeling you're
bringing bad news?" wondered aloud.
"It depends on
how you look at it," Whistler started. Buffy raised
her eyebrow and just stared at him. "OK, as *you* look at
it, it's bad news.
But it's one of those unavoidable things. It's kind of like a
prophecy, only
not. I just thought I'd give you and my man Angel a little
advance notice
this time around."
"You're not
making any sense Whistler," Buffy complained as she
finished her breakfast. "What do you mean 'it's kind of like
a prophecy, only
not.'" She suppressed a shudder at the thought. Prophecies
always seemed to
be nothing but trouble.
"Well,
prophecies are supposed to give you an idea of what to expect,
right?" Whistler explained, wanting to avoid the point for
as long as
possible. "They're written by dreamers, seers, religious
figures, and madmen
mostly, so they don't make a whole lot of sense. How one turns
out affects
what the next prophecy is, gives you a clue to what's coming next.
Only you
and Angel and the rest of your merry little band are mucking
things up
something fierce by beating them out. By getting out of absolute
prophecies,
by disproving long held truths, but proving long held disbelief,
and beating
the odds time after time."
"And this is
bad how?" Buffy asked with a sharp laugh, her eyes
trained sharply on the demon before her. "I thought the goal
was to stay
alive as long as possible."
"Oh it's not
bad, and you are, we just never thought you could,"
Whistler answered without thinking. His eyes widened with horror
as Buffy
made a strangled sound and tried to push her self to her feet.
Realizing his
mistake, Whistler scrambled to recover. "No no no. Not we in
the inclusive
sense, we in the demon sense, and I always warned them not to
underestimate
you, especially after meeting you." He breathed a sigh of
relief as Buff
subsided, though she did disentangle herself from the blanket
that had
hindered her previous move to rise. "You've faced so much
and survived, and
keep getting out of prophecy after prophecy, sometimes at an
alarming rate.
Before we met you, we were sure it would take a couple of slayers
to get this
far into the lore. After all, you were supposed to be killed by
the Master."
Looking at Buffy's angry face, Whistler added, "I'm not
making this any
better for myself, am I?"
"Not really,"
Buffy said, frowning. She hated remembering the feel of
the Master's teeth in her neck, and the helpless feeling she'd
had when she
could seem to fight against him. "I get that we've gotten
pretty deep into
the prophecies, and that you thought it would take more slayers
and more time
to get there. So, stop digging yourself in deeper and just spit
it out
Whistler. I probably won't do any permanent damage."
"Only if I'm
real lucky," the little demon muttered under his breath
as he resumed pacing. He had no problems spitting the news out to
Angel;
they'd become friends of a sort while getting the vampire ready
to help
Buffy. Whistler knew Angel wouldn't really hurt him. Buffy was
another matter
entirely. She barely knew him, and associated him with the
biggest heartache
of her life. Part of her probably wanted him dead just for
telling her how to
close Acathala. Plus, there was the whole demon/slayer
relationship; she
killed, he died. Still, the way Angel was acting, he would fight
this to the
very end, and Buffy would have no warning as to what was coming.
She deserved
more.
"The point I
was making is that things are really in flux right now;
we don't know what's coming after this ascension thing, and don't
have a clue
as to what to prepare you for. There is only one thing we know
for sure, and
the whys and hows are totally obscure but facts are facts. You
and Angel each
have stuff you gave to do, accomplish. But, it's different stuff,
and you
each have to do it on your own, as in without help."
Whistler took a deep
breath and turned to face the Slayer, his body tensing for her
reaction. "So,
Angel is leaving."
An instant later he
was struggling for breath, his ever present
bowler tipped over his eyes. "You want to repeat that?"
Buffy asked
dangerously, getting right in his face. He shook his head
frantically before
she stepped away, only to begin pacing in front of the fire, her
movements
agitated.
Whistler stayed
where she'd pinned him to the wall, his hand going to
massage his neck where she'd grabbed him. "That's quite a
grip you've got
kid," he managed to choke out. Moments later, he had
recovered and moved to
stand behind the chair he'd been sitting in before, wanting an
obstacle
between them. "Don't kill the messenger kid. If it wasn't
for me you probably
wouldn't know until it was a done deal."
"Angel's
leaving," Buffy said flatly, her arms snaking around her
waist, trying to hold her emotions in as she tried to wrap her
mind around
the idea. "Where's he going? When you said 'without help'
what *exactly* did
you mean?" All of a sudden she froze mid step as Whistler's
last words hit
her. "If you hadn't said anything I wouldn't have known."
Buffy slowly
pivoted to face him, anger sparking in her hazel eyes. Her body
was primed
for action as she asked, "Do you mean that Angel knows? That
he *knew* he was
leaving when he sat *right* there," Buffy pointed, "and
told me he wasn't
going anywhere?!" Her voice rose as she finished speaking,
her tiny body
vibrating with fury. Whistler's silence was a damning conviction
and the
Slayer shrieked with rage. Buffy went with that feeling, once
again burying
the pain deep within, as she started stalking towards the
darkened bedroom.
Every movement
screamed 'Slayer on the Hunt,' and Whistler knew Buffy
had serious mayhem, if not murder, on her mind. Seeing the
turmoil she was
in, and knowing Buffy would regret hurting Angel in the end, the
demon took
his life in his hands and stepped between her and Angel's room.
"Calm down!"
he pleaded, waving his arms frantically, trying to distract her.
"He only
found out last night, and he's fighting this tooth and nail!"
An odd look
crossed Whistler's face. "Or should it be fang and claw?
Anyway, the talk you
two had last night was more important."
Buffy growled at
Whistler, not appeased by his words but now calm
enough to at least listen. Encouraged by the fact that he was
still standing,
Whistler continued. "He doesn't want to leave, so he's in
denial, big time.
Thing is, he's gonna end up leaving, no matter what, and a whole
lotta the
potential reasons are *not* good for the home team. For some
reason, you two
can't be together right now. Limited contact only until something
happens. So
I figured, if it's gonna happen, a little advance notice might be
appreciated." Whistler relaxed a moment when Buffy finally
backed down and
returned to pacing, though he could practically *see* the anger
and hurt
radiating from her in waves. "And if Angel leaves on his
own, after talking
it out with you, of course, it might be the best thing for both
of you."
"Not you, too?!
How on earth could Angel leaving ever be considered a
good thing?!" exclaimed Buffy, throwing her arms up in
disgust and dropping
on the couch. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees
and dropper
her head to her hands. "If you have a point, please get to
it," she finally
whispered, surreptitiously wiping tears from her eyes. They had
worked things
out last night, only to get hit with an unavoidable separation?
And Angel
hadn't told her? Buffy couldn't decide if she wanted to go home
and have a
good cry or go destroy a practice dummy, but she'd be damned if
she'd break
down if front of Whistler.
Whistler crouched
in front of Buffy, organizing his thoughts before
beginning. "I know you don't want him to go. Believe me, he
doesn't want to
leave. There's a lot of unresolved issues between you two though.
I've no
doubt you love each other despite the odds, the situation, and
the past. But
Buffy, Angel's been back for six months, and mostly healed for
the last five.
And you still haven't really talked about what happened. I mean
sure, from
what I hear you had a little mini confrontation when the idiot
tried to get a
suntan at Christmas time, and you had a nice talk last night, but
they really
only treated the symptoms. You guys have to talk about what
happened last
spring."
Buffy tried to jerk
away, a grimace of pain on her face, but Whistler
grasped her arms firmly, stopping her. "A relationship can't
survive with
secrets and lies being told by both parties. And you are lying if
you tell me
you're over what Angelus did to you, and Angel is not spilling
about what he
knows and remembers about his vacation in hell. NO one knows what
you did
last summer, and Angel never said anything about your new
boyfriend. You have
to talk about these things, or misunderstandings are gonna keep
occurring."
"I know we
need to talk about it," whispered Buffy. "I *need* to
talk
about it, and Angel's the only one I can really open up with. I
could
probably share a lot with Willow, but she was there when it
happened, and she
already knows most of it." Buffy raised her head, no longer
caring if
Whistler saw the tears that were now freely running down her
cheeks. "But
Whistler, I can't hurt him again." Pain and guilt could be
heard in every
word, her earlier anger temporarily forgotten. "I've hurt
him so much, and
that's the last thing I ever wanted. I mean, I sent him to Hell!
He's been
punished enough, and it was for something that he had no control
over! I know
I can't talk about it without feeling the pain, and the fear
again, and that
will hurt him. He'll feel guilty when he sees those feelings in
my eyes, and
I'm not fool enough to think I could get through that discussion
with a mask
on."
"So don't do
it face to face," Whistler offered, wondering anew where
this girl got her strength. As a slayer she got physical strength
to fight
demons, and mental strength to help fight the denizens with
hypnotic
abilities. But emotional strength was something else. Most
slayers hardened
themselves, cutting themselves off from their emotions as the
handbook taught
to survive night after night of killing and violence, living a
lonely
existence. Buffy, however, only used a mask in times of extreme
duress. She
had faced so much, and had still survived the trauma inflicted on
her with
compassion and concern enough to worry about how her feelings
affected
others. Buffy's quizzical expression brought him back to their
conversation.
"What if you
guys worked things out while Angel's out of town?
There's always the phone, or letters. I bet that little redheaded
witch could
even set up e-mail. That way you get to tell him what you were
feeling, and
don't think he won't know you're still hurting, but he won't have
to actually
see it." Encouraged by the Buffy's thoughtful look, Whistler
continued
knowingly. "And maybe he'll be able to tell you about Hell,
and his
nightmares without worrying about seeing the guilt in *your* eyes."