Dark Moon: Pt One - Waxing Moon

When Buffy and Ciorstaidh returned from the bathroom, Angel was sitting on the edge of a cot, with Willow sitting beside him. He was still clutching the photograph that held the image of his daughter. Buffy approached him and took a deep breath.

“Angel, I’m so sorry. I know I could have been a whole lot more tactful, and actually, I should have left it to someone else entirely to tell you. Please, forgive me.”

Angel looked up, his face drawn and haggard. “I don’t blame you,” he told her sadly, “I’m the only one responsible for my past actions. I did it. I killed her. And I enjoyed it.”

“But I know it wasn’t you that did that,” Ciorstaidh said, stepping forward, “It may have been your body, but it was not your soul.”

For the first time, Angel rested his eyes upon the girl before. She stood there, her long dark hair flowing in gentle waves over her shoulders, her pale skin accentuated by the black velvet cloak she wore. Under the cloak, she wore a long, revealing black empress-style dress.

He recognised her almost immediately.

“Ciorstaidh...” he said, slipping momentarily into his strong Irish accent.

“Angel,” she replied, letting a small smile form on her lips.

“But... you should be dead,” he said, “I saw you run out into broad daylight. Darla laughed... she said the problem I created had solved itself...”

Ciorstaidh smiled sadly, then said, “It turns out you can’t transform a Slayer into a Vampire... we’re immune to the Demon. But like Vampires, we become immortal.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I think I may be the only one that lives at this time... I don’t know of too many Vampires who would be willing to put the glee they feel from killing a Slayer aside, in order to transform her into a Vampire. Killing a Slayer holds too much honour.”

“How do you know that it’s the Slayer element that did this? What if it’s some other element?”

“That’s a very good question,” added Giles.

“The Slayer shall not be burdened with the Daemon rebirth; the Soul shall live eternal,” Ciorstaidh quoted, “That’s according to...”

“Skoteinos Sembolaio,” Giles finished, “Dark Covenant; the other book Buffy brought from your apartment.”

“Yes,” Ciorstaidh confirmed, nodding her head.

“I really want to talk to you,” Angel cut in, finally becoming more composed, “But there’s something I have to do first. I’ll be back shortly. Please don’t leave.”

His eyes pleaded with her, so she agreed to stay. Angel then turned on his heel and left. Buffy took two steps in an attempt to follow him, but Giles firmly grabbed her arm and held her back.

“You need to stay, Buffy,” Giles told her sharply, “You have to get a hold of yourself; this is not the time to be causing more problems.”

“I need your help, Buffy,” said Ciorstaidh, trying to distract her from her thoughts of Angel, “I need everyone to sit in a circle, away from the cots. There’s a ritual I want to try to perform”

After turning off all the electrical lights, and lighting seven white candles, Ciorstaidh placed everyone in a circle in a specific order; Giles sitting at the head of the circle, followed by Willow to his left, then Xander, Ciorstaidh, Oz, and finally Buffy on Giles’ right. Faith sat in the centre of the circle, facing Ciorstaidh. Each person held a lit candle in front of them. From under her cloak, Ciorstaidh pulled out a small white pouch which contained a moderate quantity of black sand. Taking a handful of the sand, she tossed it into the air, and began to chant as everyone else sat silent.

“Iereia! Eilogimenos feggari, epoelono Piste! Faith! Thea Hekate! Thea Artemis! Nichta Agrotera, ela tho!”

Ciorstaidh repeated the chant twice, increasing the volume of her voice with each repetition. By the time she was saying it for the third and final time, her voice echoed loudly in the chamber, and each of the candles had grown significantly brighter.

Placing her candle on the floor in front of her, she reached out for Xander’s and Oz’s hand, and the entire circle joined hands. The temperature in the room grew, and Ciorstaidh could sense the power flowing between them. She closed her eyes, and the candle before her flickered and dimmed, as the flame on Faith’s candle grew larger and brighter. Finally, Ciorstaidh’s candle went out completely, and she slumped over, unconscious.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When she awoke, Ciorstaidh found that she was lying in a cot, covered with a warm blanket. Angel had returned, and he and Buffy were deep in conversation. Noticing that Ciorstaidh was awake, Willow immediately walked to her bedside.

“How long have I been out of it?” asked Ciorstaidh.

Willow checked her watch, and replied, “Almost seven hours. Whatever you did really took a lot out of you.”

“But did it help Faith at all?”

Willow smiled, and pointed to where Faith was sparring with Giles. Though still not at full form, she was easily better than the average athlete.

“You are amazing,” Willow told her, “Faith could hardly walk before you had us form the circle; and minutes after you passed out, she was helping Xander carry you over to the cot.”

Ciorstaidh smiled, and said, “I’m so relieved, I was a little worried that it wouldn’t work, and that Faith would be at a huge disadvantage when the Vampires start arriving in Sunnydale.”

“But the new moon isn’t for another thirteen days...”

“The Vampires will begin arriving before then. You need to be ready; you can’t be staying down here for more than just a few days.”

“Oh,” said Willow, pausing to think for a moment, “I guess the more Vampires we get rid of prior to Erinyes Vrekolakas, the less we’ll have to deal with when the time comes.”

“Exactly.”

Willow took a deep breath, then said, “I hate to bother you with less important things, but I have a question for you.”

“Ask anything.”

“Ok, you know how the gypsies cursed Angel with a soul, and then he lost it because they put a little happiness clause on the whole thing... well, I re-cursed him, and I don’t remember saying anything that would lead to having the same little clause. Is it still there, or do you think that Angel might still lose his soul again if he’s happy?”

“If you didn’t add in the Rumanian words for ‘return within until all guilt subsides, then flee and let the daemon surface once more,’ then the clause probably isn’t there.”

“And what are the Rumanian words for that?”

Ciorstaidh thought for a moment, then said, “It’s been over eighty years since I helped write that spell... I don’t speak Rumanian, but I think it was ‘retourn ci trem tor, mort vir alan thenato retourn deja.’ Something like that. But it’s not really the words that matter; it’s the intent.”

“I definitely did not intend for him to ever lose his soul again... I just wanted him to be happy with Buffy.”

“Then there shouldn’t be anything to be worried about.”

“I don’t think Angel knows that... he keeps pushing Buffy away because he doesn’t want to become Angelus again...”

“Then tell him.”

Willow smiled, then said, “I think I will; it should make things better for both him and Buffy.”

On the other side of the room, Buffy and Angel were having their first truly civil conversation since he had returned to Sunnydale.

“Buffy, I’m really scared that I’m going to revert back, and hurt more of the people you care about. I can’t let myself get close to you again; I love you more than anything, and that could destroy everything for both of us.”

Buffy lowered her eyes to the floor, and said, “I understand. It’s just that my heart has such a hard time accepting it. Part of me doesn’t care what happens two weeks down the road, so long as I have two minutes of happiness with you. You’re the most special thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same way about you. You’re the only person I’ve ever really loved.”

“What about Ciorstaidh? Did you ever love her?”

“Ciorstaidh was hardly more than a child when we met. She was so wild, and we got involved. I know we shouldn’t have, but I was young back then too; only twenty-three or twenty-four. I know it makes me extremely shallow, but in all honesty, I was only infatuated with her, and took advantage of the fact that she loved me.”

“Does she know that?”

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t. It’s surprising enough that she still tolerates my presence after what I did to her family.”

“She forgives you.”

Angel glanced over at her, and saw that Willow had finished talking to her and was now talking to Oz, Giles and Xander with an excited smile on her face. Ciorstaidh had meanwhile leaned back in her cot and closed her eyes.

“I really have to talk to her... I hope you don’t mind.”

Buffy bristled a little, but still said, “Go ahead, it’s ok with me.”

Angel walked over to Ciorstaidh, and crouched down beside her. He was nervous, but he had a lot he had to say to her. Ciorstaidh sensed him nervousness, and smiled reassuringly.

“You’re so much different that I remember,” he started, “You used to be so wild.”

“Motherhood really calmed me down. It gave me something to think about besides myself. And now, well, I’m really so much older. You’ve changed a lot too. You carry a lot of sadness with you now.”

“Can you blame me?” he said, “I’ve done do much wrong. I’ve hurt you and many others so badly. You should hate me.”

“I don’t.”

Angel paused, then said, “When I was Angelus... when I was killing, I sometimes kept small souvenirs from my victims. I’m not proud of it, but I have to be honest with you.”

“Please don’t tell me you saved pieces of their bodies or anything like that,” Ciorstaidh said with a shiver.

Angel blanched, and said, “No, nothing like that. Just little things; jewellery, items they might have been carrying... I always kept them with me, even after the Rumanians cursed me. I used them to remind myself of the evil I had committed.”

He reached into his pocket, and removed something, which he kept hidden in his closed hand.

“This... this belonged to Hope. I want you to have it back.”

Angel placed the item in her Ciorstaidh’s trembling hand. It was a locket on a delicate gold chain. Flowers and vines were engraved in the gold on the front of the locket, while the back had the single word ‘Hope’ inscribed on it. Ciorstaidh opened the locket carefully, and saw a small hand-painted portrait of herself on one half, and a small hand-painted portrait of Hope as an infant on the other side. Tears of joy filled Ciorstaidh’s eyes as she studied the tiny pictures.

“Thank you so much, Angel,” she whispered through her tears, “This means more to me than you could ever imagine.”

“After all I did, it’s the least I could do for you. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. I wish I could go back and change it all.”

“Angel, you gave me the most beautiful gift in the whole world; a daughter who was perfect in almost every way. I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything. I just wish that you had the chance to know her as I did.”

“So do I. If I hadn’t ran into Darla, we might have had a normal family.”

Ciorstaidh smiled, and said, “Probably not, but it’s a nice thought.”

“Despite what I did to you, have you ever been... happy with your life?”

“Angel, I’ve seen so much of the world. I’ve learned far more than any mortal could every hope to. I’ve seen the times change for both the good and the bad. I could never ask for anything more. I have been happy for much of my life. I hope that you find the same in your future, with Buffy.”

“I can’t. If I do, Angelus will return.”

“Things are not always as they seem.”