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I Change but I Cannot Die Series - We Are Not Who We Were -- by Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Description: A bit of background, which I hope isn't too boring, sequel to Remnants of Humanity.
Disclaimer: Joss owns everything. Period.
Something was different. The air hung about Sunnydale like an ancient and decaying death shroud. The nights had been normal, as normal as they ever were on the Hellmouth, but a dark finger tapped a warning on the slayer's shoulder and whispered voiceless secrets in her ears. Or maybe she was slowly losing her mind. She was way beyond her life expectancy, in slayer years, at any rate. She liked to kid herself that her longevity was a testament to her prowess, but in reality, she figured it was more likely due to dumb luck and the help of some trusted friends.
Giles watched his charge from his office doorway. Though she was still a young woman, the dark experiences of her past had left scars behind the youthful exuberance of her eyes. Loosing Willow had been the most difficult. Buffy had undergone a harrowing journey from anger to abandonment to guilt and, finally, to heartbreaking acceptance. Had she the years' maturity then that she had now, she might have handled the whole disaster differently, and Willow might still be here.
The watcher had never been one to dwell on could-have-beens. In his position, such self-indulgence could not be afforded. But he knew, after more than half a decade, the slayer still returned to that grievous episode, still blamed herself for its outcome. He admired her for having gotten past it at all.
"Giles," Buffy spoke as she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye.
"Hello, Buffy," he smiled.
They sat down at the library table. Although Buffy had graduated years before, she still spent many hours here. She felt as if she knew every corner and cobweb in the familiar room.
"Anything wrong?" he asked, studying her face.
The slayer shrugged, "I don't know. I've had this feeling over the past couple of days. I can't explain it, really. You haven't heard anything?"
"No," he answered. "Everything seems to be as usual."
"Maybe it's Xander," she smiled softly. "His wedding is just three weeks away. We're losing another one."
Giles placed a hand over hers, "He isn't going anywhere. Their work is here. He'll be here."
"I know, but it'll change. It'll have to, with his wife to think of. And when Kirsten gets pregnant with a little Xander, that'll knock him out of our lineup permanently."
He looked at her silently.
"Oh, well," she sighed, trying to infuse a note of cheerfulness into her voice. "Life goes on. Things change."
"How's Angel?" Giles asked.
"I haven't seen him for a few days," she admitted. "It's hard. You know."
"After all this time, Buffy, can't you two work through this?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" she replied. "I can't help my feelings, though. I know he betrayed me, sided with them."
"No, you don't know that," he told her.
Buffy sighed, "Okay, so he's never admitted it, but I know him. I promised not to go after Willow, and when I couldn't keep that promise, he took matters into his own hands."
"Even if that's true, that water long ago flowed under that bridge," he pointed out.
"Maybe not. Maybe it flowed into a little pool where it's been stagnating all this time," she replied.
"Then you'd better find a way to release it because if something is going on, I don't know about it, and neither do you. Angel may be our best source of information," he advised her.
"I know," she agreed. "I'll go talk to him tonight."
"Let me know if--"
"I will," she smiled. "I'll talk to you later."
Angel opened the door and motioned Buffy inside. He'd left the old, gutted mansion a year ago and taken an apartment in town. The landlord was more interested in money than in the quality of his tenants. His initial protests at Angel's having painted the windows black had been silenced by the large roll of bills the vampire had shoved into his hand.
Buffy's eyes wandered around the stark room. Angel watched her with characteristic patience. Finally, her eyes turned to him.
"How are you?" she asked.
"I'm fine, Buffy," he answered. "Is there something you need?"
She took a breath and sat down on the faded brown armchair, "Have you heard anything lately?"
"Anything?" he asked.
"I've just had this feeling that something's happening, or is about to happen. Have you heard anything new, anything I should know about?"
Angel looked at the beautiful blonde. He had loved her, not so long ago, with such an intensity it had brought hell itself to its knees. No, he reminded himself. That had not been their love; that had been the devoted friendship of a young, naive redhead.
Buffy was watching him, waiting for his response.
"No," he lied with ease. "I haven't heard anything. I'm sorry; that's not what you wanted to hear."
She shook her head, "It's okay. To be honest, I half expected that answer. I should be on patrol. I wouldn't mind some company."
Angel hesitated, torn between spending some time with this woman he still cared deeply about and needing to keep a distance from her.
"All right," he consented, deciding it might be helpful to keep an eye on Sunnydale's streets now that Spike and Willow were here.
"We could start with her," Willow suggested as they watched Xander's fiancee get into his car.
"What exactly did you have in mind, pet?" Spike asked.
"Well, we could play with her for awhile. It would be fun to watch Xander squirm with worry," she smiled.
"If we take her, we can't give her back," he told her.
Willow considered this for a moment, "Maybe we could."
Spike turned his head and looked at her, "Willow, what are you thinking?"
"We wouldn't have to kill her. We could change her instead."
"Baby, I don't want that man's intended following at our heels for the rest of infinity," he said.
She smiled up at him, "There are all kinds of ways to change a person."
Spike draped an arm across her shoulders. "I'm going to like playing with you, pet," he chuckled.
The End
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