When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my place with kings.

--Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare

"That thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, than then I scorn to change my state with kings," Buffy whispered, reading from the small golden book that was Angel’s present to her.

"Watcha reading?" Xander asked, plopping down beside her on the school steps and snatching the book from her hands. Buffy glared, but Xander didn’t notice. She sent a heartfelt prayer to heaven that she would get her strength back soon (and reminded herself that she needed to ask Giles exactly how long that would be) so she could slap her friend.

"Ooo . . . Shakespeare! The man! He who shakes a spear! Deep reading material Buff!"

"It’s from Angel," she said shortly, grabbing the book and tugging. Xander let go, his face blank. "Birthday present."

"You never read my birhtday presents!" Xander exclaimed, reverting to his little kid voice.

"Xander, you gave me necklace. Much as I love it, it’s kinda hard to read," Buffy pointed out. Xander didn’t say anything, but retreated into sulking.

"Hi Buffy!" Willow exclaimed, walking up with Oz. He sat down on the steps next to Buffy and Willow sat snuggled against his legs.

"Hey you guys," Buffy said. Xander roused from his sulking.

"Don’t I get a greeting?" he demanded. Willow and Oz exchanged glances.

"Hi Xander," they said at the same time. Willow spotted Buffy’s book.

"You’re reading Shakespeare? That’s so cool! I love Shakespeare!" Willow exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Isn’t she cute when she’s excited?" Buffy asked. Oz grinned.

"She’s always cute," he replied.

"It was Angel’s birthday present," Buffy told Willow, returning to the original subject.

"That’s so sweet!" Willow exclaimed.

"Yes, isn’t it sweet?" Xander asked caustically. Willow stilled and looked worried.

"How sweet was it exactly?" Oz asked cautiously.

"Friends sweet!" Buffy exclaimed, leaping to her feet--and tripping over Xander in the process. She really needed these drugs to wear off! Xander and Oz both reached up to steady her and she gave them a tiny smile before yanking her hands away. "Okay, yes, we have a history. But it’s history. I’m not stupid and I think I’m strong enough to resist ruining my life. Again." She turned and walked away, clutching the little book tightly. What did she have to do to convince them? What did she have to do to convince herself?

"Giles?" Buffy called, entering the library.

"Buffy!" the librarian exclaimed, emerging from his office. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for a book," she said. He gave her a blank look. Buffy arched her brows at him. "I was making a funny Giles. Have you ever known me to be looking for a book?"

"G-good point," he said. "Why are you here then?"

"Giles, how many times have I come to the library in the last three years?" He frowned, obviously thinking. Buffy rolled her eyes. "That was a rhetorical question. You don’t have to count."

"O-oh. Of course," Giles stuttered.

"As I was saying . . . We already established that during none of those times was I looking for a book. Therefore I must have been coming here for some other reason. Care to make a guess?"

"You were coming to see me. I understand that, Buffy, but--"

"But what?" Buffy asked. "I’m the Slayer, you’re the Watcher, I’m not seeing any ‘buts’ here."

"Buffy, I’m no longer your Watcher. The Council stripped me of my rank," Giles pointed out firmly. Buffy eyed him for a minute, then sighed and put her bag down, facing him squarely.

"Okay, here’s how I see it. What has the Council ever done for me? Or for you, for that matter. They didn’t help with the Master . . . they didn’t even seem to care. And when there was a new Slayer? Did we hear anything about it? No. Did they send anyone to help when I skipped town? Again no. And they say there was a memo about that freaky lady, but I’m guessing that’s another no there. Then suddenly they show up, decide to bring an evil psycho vampire with them that hey, happens to get loose and go after my mother. When I manage to survive the encounter with it, they congragulate me and tell me ‘I pass.’ What the hell is that supposed to mean? And I can’t even open a jar of peanut butter Giles! I’m not seeing how they have the authority to boss me around!"

"They’re the Council!" Giles began, but Buffy didn’t let him say any more.

"Right. The Council. Giles, I’m still having trouble with you. I thought I knew you and then you’re this totally different person. You lied to me. But in the end, you tried to help and that has to count for something. I have this vague feeling that somehow most other Watchers wouldn’t have done that. And that really scares me. Giles, I depend on you. I’d be in major trouble if it was just me. Or even if it was me and somebody I couldn’t talk to. Someone that didn’t understand me and didn’t want to. I heard what that man said, Giles. They’re going to send someone who doesn’t give a damn about me! Someone who tells me to do this and do that and don’t you dare think about college or a future! Don’t you dare go see Angel! Don’t you dare go to the Bronze with your friends! You’re the Slayer. You’re not a person! Just the Slayer. Giles, I couldn’t handle that. I just couldn’t! I need you."

There was silence in the room and then Giles took a step torward her and a few minutes later Buffy was hugging Giles fiercely--well, fiercely considering at the moment a kitten was stronger than she was.

"I need you too Buffy. No other Slayer could take what you have taken," Giles said, pulling away. Buffy gave him a little smile, then took a deep breath.

"Okay, now that the whole doubt about you being my Watcher thing has been cleared up . . . how long is it gonna be before I’m back to my full strength? Cause I’m really not looking forward to gym class . . ." Giles smiled, as she had meant him too, and for the moment it was all back to normal. For the moment.

Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing.
And like enough thou know’st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all but determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gav’st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me , to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

--Sonnet 87 by William Shakespeare

"Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, in sleep a king . . ." Angel stopped, looking up from the book and meeting Buffy’s eyes.

"But waking no such matter," she whispered. Who knew a poem written hundreds of years ago could hold such truths? And that she, Buffy Summers would be able to understand them. That wasn’t really what was on her mind at that moment though. His eyes held hers, steadfastly, so sweet and sad and beautiful. After a moment so long that for all Buffy knew it could have been an hour, she moved restlessly, breaking the gaze and stood up, turning away from Angel, the fire and the book of poems. She heard Angel stand behind her. At least she hadn’t lost her good hearing . . .

"I’m sorry," Angel said. She shook her head without turning to look at him.

"Don’t be. There’s nothing to be sorry about, really there isn’t. It’s a wonderful present. Who knew all those thees and forthwith’s actually could be understandable sometimes?" It was a rhetorical question, which was good, because he offered no answer. She turned to look at him, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but unable to stop herself. Her whole body was yearning for him. Her whole soul.

"I should go home," she said suddenly. He nodded.

"That would probably be a good idea. Here’s your book," Angel said, holding it out to you. She summoned a smile and took it, their hands brushing as she did so. They’d been much much closer than that, but somehow that small brush of fingertips sent a shock through her. She looked at Angel and saw that he had felt it too. Of course he had.

"Thank you. For the book, and um, just being here to talk to," Buffy said softly. He nodded and she turned and began to walk out of the mansion into the night.

"Buffy, wait!" Angel called suddenly. She stopped and turned back, a terrible hope in her eyes when she looked at him. "Maybe I should walk you home. Since you don’t have your strength back yet."

"Oh," Buffy said woodenly. "Of course. Yes, that’s a . . . a good idea." Angel nodded and grabbed a black jacket to put over his white t-shirt. He came over and looked down at her expectantly. She smiled despite herself and gestured out.

"Forward ho!" she exclaimed. He smiled.

"Good thing I’m not a woman, or I’d have to be insulted right now," Angel said. Buffy looked distressed.

"I was using my new vocabulary!" she exclaimed. Angel laughed.

"Worthy of the Bard himself," he said.

"The Bard?" Buffy asked, frowning as they started forward.

"Shakespeare," Angel said.

"Oh! Right. I knew that, really . . ." Buffy said, trailing off. Angel smiled and Buffy smiled back. It was strange . . . there were moments when they could just be together and she felt happy, where they were just two people hanging out like friends. And then there were the other moments.

"How’s Giles taking his termination?" Angel asked. Buffy had told him everything when she arrived at the mansion earlier and they’d talked for a while. He’d offered to read her some of the poetry and explain what she didn’t understand. That was where things had gone downhill.

"He’s okay. I told him I still think of him as my Watcher and I don’t care what the Council says. It’s not like they can fire me, after all. I’m the Slayer. Plus, even I am better behaved then Faith. She still hasn’t shown up! It’s my mom I’m worried about. The guy was like a major psycho, and he really freaked her out. Plus, well, she’s kinda realized how dangerous Slaying can be and that’s not giving her a happy," Buffy said, shaking her head.

"It shouldn’t," Angel replied quietly. "It’s not a happy thing. It’s frightening, but it’s what has to be done."

"I’m with ya there! Plus, I’ve discovered I’d much rather face danger with resources to fight it than wait around unaware until it comes up behind me and eats me!" Buffy exclaimed. "And you have no idea how glad I will be to get back my strength!"

"I have some idea," Angel said. "When I came back . . . it was hard to do anything. Not the same, I know, but I have some idea what you’re going through."

"You always do," Buffy said without thinking. She gave him a sideways glance to see his reaction, but his face was still and expressionless.

"It makes it harder," he said after a long moment. She nodded and looked at the ground, and then up, at the stars.

"Yes, it does. Much harder." There was a catch to her last words, and she avoided looking over at him.

"So we’ll go no more a-roving so late into the night, though the heart be still as loving and the moon be still as bright," Angel said softly. Buffy looked at him, startled.

"What is that?" she asked.

"It’s by Lord Byron," Angel answered.

"You’re really into the poetry lately, aren’t you?" Buffy asked.

"There’s not much else I can do," Angel pointed out.

"You should come out more," Buffy said. "Everyone knows you’re back, so there’s no secrets to be kept. Come patrol with me at night, or come to the Bronze." Angel shook his head regretfully.

"I wouldn’t be welcome. I mean, I know you would welcome me, but your friends? Xander? Giles? I hurt them all in different ways, and they haven’t forgiven me," Angel said.

"It wasn’t you!" Buffy exclaimed, annoyed, though not at him. At everyone who didn’t understand.

"I know that. You know that. Technically, they know it too. But in their souls? In their hearts? There I’m a monster and I always will be," Angel replied sadly.

"That’s not true Angel! They don’t hate you! Not all of them anyway. And they all helped when you needed it."

"They helped you," Angel pointed out. Buffy sighed, then saw that he stopped and realized they were at her house.

"We’re here," she said.

"Yes, we are," he agreed.

"I--I should go in," Buffy said, motioning behind her. Angel nodded. Buffy licked her dry lips and began backing up and going up the steps slowly.

"Maybe I’ll come by tomorrow night," she said.

"I’ll be there," Angel answered.

"You could come find me patrolling if I don’t come. Say, by the park . . ." Buffy suggested. Angel nodded, a half-smile on his face. Buffy smiled too, a little, and waved good bye as she unlocked the front door.

"Good bye," Angel said softly, and then turned and walked off into the darkness. Buffy watched him go sadly, then turned to go inside, an ache in her heart.

Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still;
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman colored ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turned fied,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell:
Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

--Sonnet 144 by William Shakespeare

"Buffy, is that you?" Joyce called as Buffy opened the door and stepped inside.

"No Mom, it’s the boogy man." Joyce emerged from the kitchen, a worried look on her face.

"That’s not funny Buffy." Buffy bit her lip.

"I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. But vampires can’t some in unless you invite them Mom." Joyce managed a little smile.

"Right. They can’t come in. Anyway, how was, um, patrolling? Are you hungry, I’m making some spaghetti."

"No thanks, I’m just gonna go upstairs and study. Finals are coming up." Buffy didn’t mention that her father had been planning on taking her to the ice capades that night before he had to cancel. She’d given up on going at all.

"Okay, call if you need anything, Oh, and Buffy?" Buffy stopped on the stairs and looked back inquiringly. "Mr. Giles called. He said he had to talk to you."

"Oh, I’ll call him," Buffy said.

"No, he said he would come over. I tried to dissaude him but he was very insistent," Joyce said.

"Okay, call me when he gets here, okay?"

"I would actually prefer that you answer the door," Joyce said nervously. Buffy gave her mom a strange look, but shrugged and came down the stairs to sit on the couch. She picked up the phone and speed dialed Willow’s number.

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered cheerfully.

"Hey, it’s me," Buffy said.

"Only Xander used to say that," Willow said, laughing slightly.

"Do you get us confused?" Buffy asked.

"Well, y’ know, you guys sound exactly the same!" Buffy smiled and fingered the book of sonnets while she talkes.

"Have you talked to Giles? He called and said he needed to talk and now he’s coming over! Why does this stuff always happen right before finals?" Buffy asked plaintively.

"Maybe it’s just about the Watcher’s Council, or getting your strength back," Willow said soothingly.

"Not with my luck," Buffy muttered.

"Speaking of finals, we better have a study date."

"You know it! How about tomorrow morning?" Buffy suggested.

"Sounds great!" Willow exclaimed.

"You’re just a tad bit too enthusiastic about this," Buffy laughed.

"What can I say? I like school."

"No, no, it’s a good. I mean, you might as well like what you’re forced to do, right?" As Buffy spoke, the book fell open to a page and her eyes locked on the poem.

"See, I’m just optimistic!" Willow said. Buffy made a small sound of agreement, her attention riveted to the poem. Tempteth my better angel from my side, and would corrupt my saint to be a devil. Is that why I did? Did I corrupt his angel? Or merely banish it altogether? "Buffy?" Willow asked. I guess one angel’s in another’s hell.

"Yeah, um sorry," she murmured. Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt, till my bad angel fire my good one out. No Angel! Buffy cried silently. Don’t let go! The doorbell rang. "Oh, Giles is here, I’d better go."

"Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow morning to study!"

"Yeah. Bye," Buffy said, still dazed by what she’d read in the sonnet. She pushed the off button on the phone and set it down, closing the book carefully and standing up from the couch. She took a deep breath as she walked to the door and shook her reverie off. She looked through the peep hole and it was indeed Giles.

"Vampire, demon or monster?" Buffy asked as she opened the door. The librarian looked startled.

"Uh . . ."

"None of the above?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"I-indeed," Giles said. Buffy smiled.

"What can I do for you then?" she asked before her face fell again. "Or is it a witch?"

"N-not a witch. I was wondering . . . I heard there were ice capades in town, and I . . . I wondered if perhaps you would . . . would like to . . . to--"

"Go with you?" Buffy asked, realizing what he was trying to ask. Giles nodded. "I’d love to!" she exclaimed. He smiled. "Let me get the tickets and my jacket! Come inside." Giles came in and Buffy dashed into the kitchen. "We’re going to the ice capades!" she told her mother. Joyce summoned a smile.

"With Mr. Giles?" she asked, a strange look on her face.

"Yeah, y’ know, he’s a father figure," Buffy said quickly. "Love ya!"

"Bye. Have a good time," Joyce said. Buffy smile, because she was sure she would.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bend with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
Then I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

--Sonnet 116 by William Shakespeare

Much later that night, Buffy sat down in her window seat with the book of sonnets. The ice capades has been fun ... she hadn’t known Giles could be that much fun. Plus, she’d nearly ripped a door off the hinges when her strength began to return, and that was very, very exciting. But now she was ready for some contemplative time before bed. She flipped through them, looking for the one she’d seen earlier. Instead her eyes fell on a different poem.

"Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, nor bends with the remover to remove," Buffy said softly. It was true in every way, for every kind of love. The thought of losing Giles had made her realize how important he was to her, especially with her father so far away.

And then of course, there was Angel.

"Oh no! it is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is not shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken." Buffy paused in her reading. Is my worth unknown? she wondered. Am I that bark and Angel’s my guiding star? Or is it the other way around and I can’t know what he’s worth? But I do. I didn’t for so long and then I lost him and I knew what he was worth.

"Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom," Buffy read. "Or to Hell." A tear dropped onto the page before her and Buffy realized she was crying.

"You’re my star Angel," she whispered, looking out the window at the black night sky. "I’m lost and you’re my star to guide me. That won’t change. Time can never change that. Nor Hell nor storms. I’ll always love you." Her gaze fixed on one star brighter than the others. "My star. My good Angel. Love never goes away. It never changes. And I love you." And she wished he could hear her. And she knew in her heart that he could.

The End

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