Author: Restive Nature
Disclaimer: The characters and fictional placings of either of these shows do not belong to me. They belong to Cameron/ Eglee (Dark Angel), Joss Whedon (BtVS) and Whedon/ Greenwalt (AtS). Only the story belongs to me.
Rating: 13 (for now)
Genre: Crossover of DA/ BtVS
Type: WiP
Time line/ Spoilers: Post Season 5 for Buffy. Up to LAtR for DA. Story set in DA time.
Summary: BtVS/ DA crossover. Life brings about so many changes. Especially when one has just risen from the dead.
Distribution: Is under the discretion of the author, so just ask instead of taking please.
Reviews: While I may not always respond to reviews, they are always welcome!
A/N: A couple things here. First of all, I could not find a listing for Joyce's birth or death dates. Due to the airing date of the “The Body”, one could make suppositions about the date of her death, obviously. But I was more interested in the other for reasons apparent in this chapter. Second, there was a recent review that was anti-Angel. While it may have come off as Angel showing up at Logan's apartment, acting like a jerk, I feel that this course of action would be true to his character. He and Cordy appear again in this chapter and while the “promise” that he speaks of was never verbalized in the Buffy Season 5 episode, “Forever”, it is to that time and support he offered to Buffy that I was writing about. Well, let's get on with it!
Darkening Of The Light
Chapter Twenty-seven
June 1st, 2021
3:41 p.m.
Seattle, WA
Fogle Apartments
“So I guess that's decided,” Buffy sighed. Destiny, duty, darkness. The big three D's all ready to weigh her down again. She had spent the afternoon talking with Tara about the resumption of taking up a Slayer's duties. Tara had explained before about how Willow had stopped the hellmouth in it's tracks. The cessation of demons coming to Sunnydale had in turn caused a minor influx in Los Angeles, which was apparently their preferred hot spot on the West Coast. Giles had some time ago, passed on information to Tara and the others that the hellmouth seeded in Cleveland, Ohio of all places, had begun to grow. It never reached the proportions of the Sunnydale one though.
Tara explained that there had been a thorough study of it, done independently, by the Council, a coven of Witches out of Devon, England as well as other sundry groups. The most popular theory was that with the Sunnydale hellmouth still in existence, the Cleveland demon hot spot was just not able to draw enough dark power to grow. And then, there was the puzzling admittance by Tara that demon activity never went up proportionately, like it did with Sunnydale. The demons were around, of course, which Buffy could attest to, but they had to be hunted down by the Slayer. Yes, there were a few demons that came out of the woodwork at various points, to be beaten back by the Slayer and the Council. But they never did see the numbers like Buffy had.
She had also admitted that her contacts only covered North America, England and a few places in the southern hemisphere. Buffy had pointed out that probably, the Slayer was called where she would need to be. After all, the last Slayer had been Russian. Tara had agreed with that, both of them falling silent as they realized this meant that the war was being brought home again.
Finally, noting that Buffy was starting to drag, Tara had started to gather up the papers she had been scribbling on.
“You'll be heading out tonight, then?” Tara clarified. Buffy nodded tiredly.
“I've been feeling some vibes here and there,” Buffy nodded. “You're going to get me the map of Seattle's cemeteries so I don't have to ask Logan? Sector checkpoints are going to be a nightmare.”
“Well, I was thinking,” Tara sighed. She didn't like doing things this way, but Buffy's job required many sacrifices. A normal life was just the surface of it. Buffy sat quietly, waiting. “I can help out a little with that. I can create a glamor for you that would allow you to slip around unnoticed. I don't know if Logan mentioned, but Seattle does have a curfew occasionally. I don't know if it's at whim or because of civilian unrest, political problems or what...”
“He did mentioned it a few times,” Buffy nodded, rubbing at her forehead. “To be honest, I was just thinking of sneaking and creeping where I had to. But the first time I get busted, the consequences are pretty hefty.” Tara nodded. Buffy chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment before asking quietly, “what's the price?”
Tara understood instantly. “It's not something you could use all the time. Buffy, glamors can be dangerous things because it gives the user a sense of power, of freedom, that they can do anything because no one sees it.”
“Like Faith,” Buffy murmured and then sighed. “And Marcy.” Tara was unfamiliar with the second name, not knowing that Buffy was referring to a girl from Sunnydale who had believed herself so unnoticed that she had literally become invisible. And she had wreaked her own vengeance until Buffy had stopped her. And people came, people in the know. Hmm, yet another thing to wonder over, but... She steeled herself and regarded Tara again. “What about if it's used sparingly?”
“It might be all right for a while,” Tara sighed. “The thing I worry about though, is that in... in the m-mindset you're in n-now...”
“That what?
“That you actually will disappear...”
Buffy couldn't argue with that. She stared down at her lap for the longest time. “Then maybe we'd better come up with something else.” Tara seemed to breath a sigh of relief at that decision. But Buffy was already forcing herself onward. “Tara? Aside from the sector cops, who can come and go as they please around the cities?”
Tara blinked a few moments at that and stopped gathering up the papers before her. “Well, anyone in government, I suppose. There are special rules and allowances made for... What were you thinking?”
“I need identification,” Buffy noted. “Logan was able to secure me with a guest pass for the city. But he was told that once my real identification is in, from California, to take it down to the courthouse so that I can be registered as a resident.”
“We'd be able to help with that,” Tara nodded, seeming to pick up on the idea. “Angel, well, he has contacts who do that sort of thing all the time.” Buffy frowned deeply and then shook her head. So much had changed in so long a time. Of course. But it would make sense that the former Vampire knew his way around obstacles such as he must have faced at some point in his life or other.
“Do you think that you... he'd be able to get me some sort of... official, um something or other?” Buffy winced. She had no clue what position she could attain that would allow for what she wanted.
“Um Buffy,” Tara interrupted, waving one finger impishly, “we could go military,” she suggested with a little laugh. “You know, Riley mentioned once that Professor Walsh did assign you a rank when you joined the Initiative.”
Buffy's eyes went wide. She had completely forgotten about that. But then she was shaking her head. “Oh no!” she groaned. “I don't want to be involved with them again. Once was enough. More than enough. Topped out on the enough o meter on that one.”
Tara was laughing still. “No, of course not,” she agreed with that assessment. “But Buffy, I know some people that owe me some favors. I think I could get your rank back, enough that you wouldn't be questioned on your comings and goings. If we went with special forces...” she mused and then grabbed a pen and her paper and started scribbling again. “And it would be legitimate, or enough at least...”
“Except for one thing,” Buffy sighed and Tara glanced up at her. “Technically I'm dead. Hard to provide a dead woman with papers.”
“Maybe,” Tara grinned happily, “but with a little ingenuity and some out of the box thinking...” She tilted her head to the side contemplatively. “How do you feel about giving birth to yourself?”
“Would I get a new birthday?” Buffy shot back instantly and then looked surprised at herself. Tara, remembering some of what Willow had told her and what she had seen for herself, realized the horrible memories that that day would carry for her.
“What day would you like?” She asked gently. The corner of Buffy's mouth lifted sadly, not a smile, but the closest thing she could manage at the moment.
“May Twenty-second seems like the logical choice,” she sighed, “but...”
“That does seem a little... I mean Theodore Kaczynski's birthday as well and those terrorists,” Tara agreed, wincing, as Buffy looked completely lost and she realized she was referencing events and groups that Buffy would have little to no context for. But she quickly rallied. “It can be any day you want. One that means something special to you.”
Buffy smiled softly then as she glanced at her friend. “If I could chose, then it would be June 5th.”
“Any particular reason?” Tara asked gently, something about that day pricking at her mind. And as soon as Buffy said it, she remembered.
“Mom's birthday,” she announced and Tara nodded.
“The perfect day,” she agreed. How could she have not remembered? She had spent so much of the burial service for Joyce, staring dumbly at those numbers, remembering her own mother's epitaph. The same and yet different. “Okay,” she sighed, shaking off the memories as she made a final note on her paper. “I'll have Angel start working on this.”
Before Buffy could reply, they heard someone at the door and both blond heads turned in that direction. Buffy had tensed, Tara noted, but as soon as her cousin's excited visage came into view, she let out the breath she seemed to be holding.
“Hey!” he exclaimed as he pushed the door shut behind himself, including Tara in his greeting. “I'm glad I caught you still here,” he offered. Tara perked up a little, even as she hurriedly gathered the papers that were still strewn over the table.
She was shaking them down into a neat pile as Logan set his file folders down and began to shed his jacket. As soon as he had hung it up he moved into the living room to join them. “I hope you don't mind me butting in here...” he began but both females were shaking their heads.
“We were pretty much done,” Buffy informed her cousin. Tara nodded her agreement.
“Okay,” Logan let out a small huff of air and looked slightly guilty and Buffy had to keep the frown from her face. She knew immediately that something was up. “Well, Buffy, my friend Asha was asking about you,” he began without much explanation. Aside from the fact that she knew the woman to be Logan's friend and someone he obviously worked with and now Tara knew about as much. “Not anything bad,” he hurried to explain. “She was curious and I'm sure it's occurred to you as well, but we sort of do need a story to explain you being here.”
Tara and Buffy shared a look, one raising an eyebrow and the other shrugging. “What did you come up with?” Buffy asked of her cousin. It wasn't particularly Tara's place and they all knew it.
“Well,” Logan frowned slightly. “It was very much off the cuff, but I told her that you were my cousins daughter that I had no clue about until very recently.” This time both women's eyebrows went up and Tara chuckled softly. When Logan turned to her, she shrugged again.
“Buffy and I were just discussing that very idea,” she told him and Logan smiled.
“Great minds, I guess,” he offered, a little tongue in cheek. “Asha believes that you were named after your mother and you were so alike that I just naturally started calling you Buffy, which could work, if you don't mind.”
“That actually makes the most sense,” Buffy sighed. “And what with Max and Alec telling people that I lost everything in a fire...” she trailed off as the others nodded. Logan rubbed at the back of his neck, leaning forward slightly in his seat.
“Asha also believes,” he began and then switched tacts, “I pretty much led Asha to believe that everything that happened before I found you was pretty traumatic and that at this point, you just need quiet and a safe place to rest and recuperate.”
The smile that she offered was tremulous and didn't reach her eyes, but she swallowed heavily and said, “you're not wrong there.”
The three sat quietly for a moment until Tara glanced at the watch on her list. “Well, I should get going and see how Cordelia and Angel are going on their list. It'll be too late to call my friends about the identification, so I'll do that first thing in the morning.”
“Oh,” Logan murmured and glanced between the two. “I was actually already working on that.”
The two women shared another conspiratorial glance that was not lost on the lone male in the room. And then Tara smiled gently. “That's what Buffy had said.”
“Not that I don't, um,” Buffy tried to figure out just what she could say, without having to explain why Tara would be providing the specific identification that she would, “appreciate that, but...”
“I actually have a lot of details that I can provide, which will help to make everything more authentic,” Tara spoke swiftly, covering for her friend. Logan's eyes widened slightly and then he half smiled.
“You're not going to try any... um... witchy stuff with it, are you?” he winced at the last, realizing that his words could be construed as offensive and that was not how he had meant them. But Tara was shaking her head.
“I'd actually be calling in a favor from a gentleman in the military,” Tara explained, her eyes darting to Buffy, who was sitting quietly, seeming to absorb the information again. “He's... aware of m-more esoteric m-matters,” she stammered slightly, as the lie forced it's way through. If Logan wondered, he didn't comment. Just nodded and then smiled a little.
“Well, anything you can do to help is greatly appreciated,” he mentioned in way of thanks.
“All right,” Tara nodded and stood from her seat, taking the papers with her. She turned to her friend. “I'll let you know about what we talked about and about the i.d., and let me know when you want to get together again. If you need anything, call me.” Her look was pointed and Buffy realized that Tara was trying to offer her help in other areas. Areas that Buffy wasn't sure that she wanted the woman being involved in. Such as the Slaying she had planned on for the evening. Buffy nodded tiredly. It was all starting again and she already knew what a drain it was going to be. There were so many 'if only's' swirling around her mind that she didn't know where to start.
The three of them made their goodbyes and Tara slipped out the door. Logan excused himself to put his work away in the study and Buffy remained on the sofa, wishing that she had been able to remember to ask Tara for a good excuse to offer her cousin about why she might want to go out walking after dark in a city that had arbitrary rules about just that thing.
*****
4:18 p.m.
Seattle, WA
Bedouin Breakfast Motel
“What do you suppose is taking so long?” Angel wondered aloud, yet again, as he paced the confined area. His wife of over a decade sat on the far bed, gingerly leafing through a six year old magazine that had been left carelessly by occupant and staff.
“Talking,” Cordy answered succinctly. “Although I doubt it's about current fashion or the latest hygiene tips, there's a lot of ground to cover. Tara said the other night that they barely scratched the surface of what happened to her closest friends and family.”
“I know that,” Angel half snapped and then cringed. He knew that he was behaving abominably towards his wife and her feelings. Cordy's understanding only ran so far. He knew her well enough that the slow methodical turning of the pages was a clear indication that she was not pleased. Whether it was with him, with something else, this whole situation or another matter entirely was not one he cared to decipher in the moment. Either she'd bring it up in her typical blunt way or there'd be an explosion of some kind. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he preferred to happen. Maybe not to have to deal with it at all?
“You know what I'm wondering about?” Cordy announced then and Angel paused in his agitated movements around the room to assess her mood. But she did look thoughtful. He waited. “That girl. Max? Remember back then?” Angel nodded. Some of his older memories of life the first time around as a human and his early vampire days were dim to him, but he did remember when they had encountered the girl in a back alley in Los Angeles. “What was the theory we had? That she was a potential slayer?”
Angel nodded tiredly. “I'm sure that there could have been all sorts of explanations about how she handled those Vamps. But it did seem to fit. If she'd been found and trained from an early age.”
“But weren't potentials completely normal girls until the Slayer died?” Cordy wondered, her lip twisting up slightly as she squinted at her husband, trying to recall information that had long ago lost it's relevancy to her life.
“As far as I understand it,” Angel nodded. “But then, there's been tons of examples of what even ordinary people can achieve if you start young enough. Mathematical prodigies. Music prodigies,” he rambled a little and then shrugged. “And if you don't tell a child that they can't do something, they'll do it just because it doesn't occur to them like an adult. You know?” Cordy raised one eyebrow but then nodded.
“And she was pretty small,” Cordy pursed her lips for a moment. “Probably didn't weigh much over ninety pounds, if that.”
“What does that have to...” Angel began to ask and then shook his head. “Never mind. Cheerleading 101, right?” he grinned at his wife and she nodded slowly, an impish grin lighting her eyes.
“Okay,” she declared as she threw the magazine on the nightstand and then patted the free area of the bed. “Now come and sit down and tell me what you're thinking.”
Wishing it could be that easy, he slowly made his way too her. He had learned long ago not to argue when she was in a mood like this. And there had been times, several even in recent memory that this, her taking control of the direction things were going, had worked out better than if he had been left to flounder on his own. He settled in close to her, their legs bumping together and lifted her closest hand to entwine it with his own.
“I can't...” he began but Cordy held up her free hand.
“Just pick one and we'll go from there,” she instructed. He nodded, fidgeting. And then sighed. What was important? What was most pressing? And what would hurt his wife the least? And, deciding swiftly, he stilled once more.
“There was no closure,” he spoke quietly. “I know that I was dealing with losing her. You know that. I figured out that life goes on. That things would eventually get better. And they did. But I'm... disappointed? I guess. I made her a promise that I couldn't keep. I knew, deep down, that being the Slayer, she... wasn't meant long for this world.”
“And it happened much sooner than you thought,” Cordy noted without pressing the point too hard. “Sooner than we all thought. She seemed pretty indestructible.”
“Yes,” Angel agreed. “I just thought...”
“That you'd be there to ride in and save the day, if she really needed you to,” Cordy finished for him and he smiled gratefully at her, that she knew him well enough to articulate what he couldn't. With a hard sigh, he let his head fall back against the headboard.
“Through all the years,” he offered, “I always had this thought, that if Buffy could see me, if there was just some way that she knew, that I was trying to make a difference, that I was working any way I knew how, to redeem myself, that she would approve. That she'd be... happy for me.”
“Which is completely normal,” Cordy condoned.
“But I've made some choices at the same time,” Angel sighed. Cordy was nodding slowly, seeming to stare off into space. “There was consequences to them all. But at the same time, I rationalized a lot of things... in my own mind.”
“And there you were thinking that at least Buffy couldn't see how low you...?” she didn't finish the question, but neither needed her to. Angel was nodding now.
“And now she's back,” Angel continued. “I thought that dealing with her death was the end of it, for the most part. It should have been.”
“Do you have regrets?” Cordelia asked quickly, not sounding the least hesitant or worried about what her husband might tell her, but he knew that she was.
“You know I always have regrets,” Angel countered. “But not about what happened with us to lead us here, all things with Buffy aside.”
Her voice was much quieter when she spoke up again. “Do you feel like you should have regrets?”
“I think that's the crux of the matter,” Angel decided. “I regret things that really don't matter in the long run, because I'll never be able to change them. I can try and atone for the things I've done that have hurt other people. But it hurts to think that with the promise I made her, after her mom died, that I'm not going to be able to give her the responses that she'll need, because too much time has passed. I've changed and...”
“And what?” Cordy prompted gently. In truth it hadn't been long since Angel's last journey of introspection, but she had grown used to that with having first a Vampire with a soul as your life partner, and then a human that had learned to tap into the sensitivity he'd learned with that very soul.
“I was going to say that she hasn't,” Angel inhaled deeply, looking angry and sad at once and Cordy couldn't deny those feelings either. “But I think that's the problem. She's changed. It's obvious to anyone with eyes. I spent four earthly months in hell, a hundred years there. It changes you in ways that you can't imagine Cordy.”
“And she spent twenty earthly years,” she murmured, a tear rolling from the corner of her eye as she rested her head against her husband's shoulder, wrapping her free arm around her bicep. “I can't even do the math,” she cried out softly.
“So how do I do it?” Angel questioned, of himself, of her, of the powers that controlled their destinies, of no one...
“How do I keep my promise?”
A/N2: There was a reference in here to the date May 22nd. Buffy fans will note that it is on Buffy's headstone as her date of death. It is also a throwback to a Dark Angel Season 1 episode “Prodigy”. In it, Max rescued a boy that had become a prodigy due to scientific and medical intervention, from a group of terrorists. The group, known as the May 22nd Movement, based their agenda after Theodore Kaczynski, aka The Unabomber and his anti-techno-state sentiments. The name of their group was taken from Kaczynski's birth date.
Chapter Twenty-eight
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