Dark Moon: Pt One - Waxing Moon

Buffy awoke suddenly in the darkness, initially not realising where she was. Slowly, the fuzz cleared from her mind and her eyes adjusted so that she could faintly make out the sleeping forms of her friends. Along the wall, she could also make out the lupine form of Oz, who also slept soundly.

“I wonder if they had to tranquillise him?” she wondered sleepily.

She closed her eyes once more, then opened them quickly when she heard someone whisper her name.

“Buffy,” repeated the whisper.

She turned over in her cot, and was face to face with Angel, who was crouched down beside her.

She scowled at him, and whispered, “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m not interested,” she replied, and turned over so that her back was facing him.

Angel placed a hand on her shoulder, which she quickly shrugged off. He gave up trying to touch her, and instead just sat there, and began to talk.

“Buffy, I never meant to hurt you. Honest. I left because I didn’t want to hurt you again. I’ll never forgive myself if I ever to turn into that monster again. I can’t live knowing that being happy might make me hurt you.”

Buffy turned back to him abruptly and whispered sharply, “Did you even stop for a moment and consider that perhaps I might be better off dead than suffering the misery you’re putting me through?”

“You have too much to live for, Buffy,” he replied, “Don’t let what happened between us take that away from you.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes, and said, “So I guess this is the part where you tell me that you never loved me, and that everything was a mistake. I should have let Faith’s poison arrow kill you.”

“Buffy, it’s not like that,” he told her, “I do love you. I have since the day I first laid eyes on you. And I always will love you. Regardless of what happens.”

Tears filled Buffy’s eyes, and she buried her face in her pillow in an attempt to hide them. Trying to comfort her, Angel gently began stroking her soft hair. She didn’t resist, and just laid there as he continued. Finally, she turned to him, and saw that in the faint light, his own eyes glistened with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Then don’t push me away anymore.”

“I can’t do that,” he replied sadly.

Buffy turned away from him once again, and laid in her cot, pretending to sleep. After what seemed to be an eternity, he left, and with a sigh Buffy let herself fall back asleep.

When she awoke later, the room was noticeably brighter, as Giles had turned on one of the lights. Willow was already awake, as was Oz, who was once again in his human form. Xander was sprawled out in his cot, still fast asleep, and Faith was busy whittling at her cast with Buffy’s dagger, out of Giles’ view.

“I hope you don’t mind, B,” she said quietly with a crooked smile, “But Giles wouldn’t let me use one of his.”

Buffy just smiled and shook her head in exasperation. The girl simply didn’t know the meaning of ‘taking it easy.’ Of course, neither did Buffy.

A quick scan of the room revealed that Angel was no where to be seen.

Buffy slid out of her cot, and wandered over to where Willow and Oz were. “Where’s Angel?” were the first words out of her mouth.

Willow and Oz shared a quick glance, then Oz said, “He left right after I woke up. He never said where he was going.”

“Did he tranquillise you last night? I woke up, and you were asleep.”

Oz shrugged offhandedly, and said, “I couldn’t tell you. I really don’t remember.”

Willow flushed slightly at that remark, and stared intently at the floor.

Buffy smiled slightly, then said to Willow, “You know something I don’t... and you’re going to tell me later, aren’t you.”

“Don’t I always?”

Buffy grabbed a change of clothes from her bag, then slipped into the bathroom to change. A few minutes later, she emerged, and began walking towards the door.

“I’m just running out to the store,” she called out, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Are you forgetting something?” asked Giles as he busied himself by sharpening a stake.

“Uh, ya... Does anybody want anything?” she asked lamely, letting her voice trail off..

“Buffy, the whole purpose of hiding out is that no one knows where you are,” said Giles stiffly, “If you go out, you defeat that purpose, don’t you.”

“I suppose,” replied Buffy with a sigh, flopping back onto her cot, “But there’s really nothing to do down here. Well, aside from remembering how I screwed up and nearly caused the Hellmouth to open.”

“And how you died,” mumbled Xander sleepily from his own cot, “And how I brought you back.”

“Of course, and I’m eternally grateful.”

Xander yawned and said, “Then gimme breakfast.”

“Get your own breakfast! I may be grateful, but that doesn’t mean that I’m willing to be your concubine!”

Xander smiled to himself, and thought, “Only in my dreams.” Then he got up and fixed himself a can of ravioli for breakfast.

Oz had been fortunate to have enough insight to pack his guitar, and began practising quietly in a corner of the church. Willow sat quietly on her cot, reading one of the books that Buffy had grabbed from Ciorstaidh’s apartment. It was her dairy, and Willow was studying the photos closely.

“Have you see these?” Willow asked Buffy when she sat beside her on the cot.

“I saw a few briefly, but I was in too much of a rush to really take a good look.”

“This one looks like it was taken in the early 1900’s; look at her clothes, and how long her hair is.”

“She’s beautiful,” Buffy breathed.

Willow flipped through the photos, until she came to a photograph of a painting. It featured a young woman sitting in a large chair, with long dark hair, much like Ciorstaidh’s. The painting looked to be several hundred years old; the girl was wearing a tight fitting bodice and delicately holding a single long stemmed red rose in her hands. She stared straight forward, without even the hint of a smile on her lips. Her brown eyes were large and expressive, and complemented her delicate features.

“She looks so much like you,” Willow whispered in awe, “The hair is different, but otherwise, the two of you could be twins.”

“It’s almost scary, isn’t it,” Buffy said softly, turning the photo over to read the back. Four words had been written on the back in a flowing script:

Hope Mnemosyne Brandt, 1769.

“So that’s Hope,” Buffy whispered.

“The painting must have been commissioned just before she died,” Willow remarked, “The Watcher’s Council must have had it done.”

“She looks so much like me, and Angel killed her,” Buffy said quietly, “I wonder if that’s why he was so intent on me when he first saw me.”

“Oh, that probably has nothing to do with it. It was so long ago; he probably didn’t even realise how much you two looked alike,” Willow said consolingly, “Besides, it wasn’t the Angel we know today, and Darla was also there, and she probably masterminded it all...” Willow trailed off, realising that Buffy’s attention was elsewhere.

Angel had returned, and was just approaching Giles with a book in his hands. Clutching the photo in her hands, Buffy jumped up and approached him. As soon as he saw her rushing towards him, he flinched, not knowing what to expect. Instead of hitting him like she had the previous day, she instead shoved the photo into his hands.

“Recognise her?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

Angel studied it, then remarked, “She looks just like you, only with darker hair. Am I supposed to know who she is?”

“Her name was Hope. Hope Brandt.”

“It doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Sometime around 1769, you killed her. She was a Slayer.”

“I guess that accounts for her looking so much like you,” he said, “1769, you say? That was a really long time ago... I vaguely remember Darla and I doing in a Slayer near the Watcher’s compound at that time... but that’s something I’d rather not remember.”

“Does it hurt to remember it?” Buffy asked coldly.

“Of course it does!” Angel retorted, “Knowing that I’ve taken innocent lives always hurts! It hurts knowing what I did back then, and it hurts knowing what I did only months ago. Having to face Giles after knowing what I did to Jenny almost kills me!”

“She was your daughter.”

“Jenny?” asked Angel, more than just a little puzzled.

“No,” replied Buffy coldly, “Hope. Hope was your daughter. You fed off her mother, then you waited until she was near grown, and you tortured and killed her.”

The blood drained from Angel’s face, and he fell to his knees. He covered face with his hands, and began to shake as the memories flooded back.

“Oh God,” he moaned, “I remember it all now. Darla and I... we watched her for years... watched her grow up. She was beautiful, just like her mother, and just like you, Buffy. Darla knew she was going to be called, and we waited until the day she was called. Then we lured her out into a battle... and we killed her.”

Angel clutched the photograph to his chest, and began to weep for the daughter he never had a chance to know or love. Buffy turned on her heels, and stomped over to the other side of the room, where Willow sat with her mouth gaping in surprise.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Willow exclaimed, “You can’t blame Angel for what he did back then! That was really disgusting!”

Buffy stopped short, and groaned, “I can’t believe I just did that. What’s wrong with me today?”

“I know seeing a picture of someone he killed that looks like you is unsettling, but still, that was really cold!”

“I know!” Buffy cried, tears starting to stream down her face, “But knowing that he did that to her feels like he could do that to me too! I love him so much, Willow, but I’m so scared of him! I know he doesn’t was to get close to me, so he doesn’t change and hurt me again. But doing that hurts me too!”

Buffy got up once again, and ran over to Angel, who was still on the floor, and said, “I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what came over me!”

Angel lifted his head and said, “Please, just tell when you got this... tell me how you knew...”

But it was too late; Buffy had already turned and ran from the church. Angel started to rise to go after her, but the shock of what she had told him had left him still too weak to stand, and collapsed again. Giles, Xander and Oz had no idea what was going on, and were in too much shock to do anything. Willow dropped the diary, and ran after her, but before she reached the door, she skidded to a halt at the sound of a large crash from the darkness beyond.

The noise was followed by a string of obscenities that would make even a sailor blush. Faith rose to her feet and made her way to the door as fast as her frail body would allow, with a very wide grin playing across her lips.

Seconds later, Buffy limped back into the church, grimacing and holding her head. She was followed moments later by Ciorstaidh, who was attempting to stop her nose from bleeding.

“I really don’t want to be here right now,” Buffy moaned, her eyes still red from crying, but she seemed to have pretty much pulled herself together, “Next time I decide to make an ass of myself and get upset like that, can somebody please stop me before I hurt myself and others?”

“I,” declared Xander, “Learned long ago not to mess with a Slayer regardless of the circumstances.”

Faith grinned, and said, “It takes a Slayer to take on a Slayer, so count me in! And by the way, which of you was playing the role of the sailor just now?”

Ciorstaidh blushed, and sheepishly said, “My sincerest apologies... but it really hurt!”

“We cracked heads,” Buffy explained.

“And then I fell and hit my elbow,” Ciorstaidh added, still holding her hand to her face to halt the bleeding.

Angel had turned his back to Buffy and Ciorstaidh, not wanting Buffy’s companion to see that he had been crying. It was his deeply ingrained male pride shining through. Buffy took the opportunity to lead Ciorstaidh to the bathroom to wash the blood from her face. The rest of the Scooby Gang remained silent.

“I guess he didn’t recognise me,” Ciorstaidh said once they were in the washroom.

“I don’t think he had the chance to see you.”

Buffy grabbed a handful of paper towel, and moistened it from a jug of water that sat on the counter. Ciorstaidh’s nose had stopped bleeding quickly, but it had still left her face a mess.

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy whispered as she mopped the other girl’s face with soggy paper towel, “I totally lost it, and I told Angel everything, and I showed him that picture of Hope that was in your diary... I am so very sorry.”

“It’s ok; don’t worry about it,” Ciorstaidh mumbled through Buffy’s efforts to clean her up, “He’s changed a bit since I knew him, hasn’t he,”

“You could say that,” replied Buffy, “He was probably an easier guy to figure out back when you knew him.”

“I guess I should have told you how much you resemble Hope,” Ciorstaidh admitted, “I just didn’t want to overload you with too much at once, I guess.”

“Are we... more closely related that most Slayers?”

Ciorstaidh smiled, and said, “My Aunt was not of the Slayer’s lines, as it was passed to me through my father’s side. But she had a daughter a few years after I took Hope to the Watchers. By coincidence, one of her descendants found one of the Slayer’s descendants, and by some miracle, we ended up with a Slayer that could almost be my own daughter because of the strong resemblance.”

“He didn’t remember,” Buffy mumbled, “Until I reminded him.”

“It was bound to happen one way or another,” Ciorstaidh consoled her, “Angel is strong; he has dealt with everything else from his past, hasn’t he? He’ll deal with this too.”

“You sound so forgiving. I don’t understand how you could ever be so calm about it.”

Ciorstaidh smiled sadly, and said, “I’ve had a long time to deal with it, and I know that he’s not being controlled by the Demon anymore.”

“I guess... I just don’t think I could ever do it if it happened to me.”

Ciorstaidh just smiled, and took Buffy by the arm. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s go face our audience.”