XII
The Hanged One: Transition. A period of rest between significant
events, a time when action is inadvisable. Surrender to inevitable
circumstances; in/voluntary sacrifice; descent to the depths of the self;
altered perceptions by examining things from a different (upside down)
viewpoint. Can also indicate boredom, stagnation, stasis, inability
to change, lack of development or evolution.
Part Five
“You should not be here,” scolded the male oracle.
“Yeah, well, the guy who’s allowed to talk to you is comatose, so you’ll just have to talk to me,” Cordelia snapped back, hands on her hips.
The Oracles looked at each other for a moment, their heads tilted in silent communication. After a moment the woman looked back at Cordelia. “We will hear you out, mortal,” she said. “What have you brought us?”
Cordelia fished in her pocket for a moment before withdrawing a small statue. “It’s old,” she said with a shrug. “He won’t miss it.” Especially not at the moment, she reflected.
The statue flew out of her hand, and where it went after the Oracle got it she did not see.
“What do you ask of us?” the man asked after a moment.
“What’s wrong with Angel?” Cordelia demanded.
“He sleeps and does not wake.”
“He wakes but does not see.”
Cordelia made a sound of annoyance. “I could have told you that much,” she muttered. Seeing the female Oracle gazing at her oddly, Cordelia amended her statement. “I mean, how can we…snap him out of this?”
“You can not,” the woman replied.
“What?!”
“Only he can choose to return to you,” the man explained. “Only he can walk the necessary paths.”
Cordelia was confused. She knew they would be cryptic, but…. “Return from where?”
“He walks with she whose blood he shares.”
Okay, that was helpful, Cordelia thought sarcastically. She didn’t think they’d appreciate a response of ‘huh?’ though, so she floundered for another question. “Will he…return?”
“He must return,” the man said, “or all may be lost.”
Cordelia felt herself pale. That didn’t sound good. “Can…. Is there anything I can do to help him? Or you can do to help him?”
The woman shook her head. “Only one can help him now,” she said, “and she may not wish to.”
They lay together as if joined in a lovers’ embrace, content to simply be together as they rested from their walking. There was no fatigue in this place, but they had decided without speaking to rest in the shelter of the love they had created. After all, there was no time here. It did not matter if they stopped along the way. The same final destination would still await them.
Angel did not bother to think about those final destinations. It lurked in the back of his mind that he and Buffy would not end in the same place. He was not dead, per say; he could wander the ghost roads forever, a lost soul. That knowledge and the despair over Buffy’s death constantly lurked like a dark shadow, but as long as they rested here that end need not arrive.
They lay in tender silence for a long time before Angel spoke of something that had been on his mind, since… “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he whispered.
Buffy looked at his with odd seriousness. “Who’s to say how it should be?” she said.
Angel shook his head, floundering for words. “No…the…choice I made…you were supposed to live.”
Buffy smiled sadly. “I’m the Slayer, Angel. This is my fate,” she explained. “Nothing…not where you were, not what you were…made any difference in the end.”
Gazing at the sympathy in Buffy’s gaze, Angel came to a realization. “You remember.”
“Yes,” Buffy said clearly. “I remember…that day. The day you were human.”
“But…”
Buffy interrupted him. “Maybe I blocked it out. Maybe it was buried in my subconscious. But do you really think the soul could forget something like that?”
Angel shook his head, once again hovering at the edge of despair. “No,” he whispered brokenly. “I could never forget.”
“And neither could I,” Buffy replied. She held him close, comforting him and lending him strength. “Treasure that day, Angel,” she said. “It was a beautiful thing. Don’t weep over the days we didn’t have. Love the one we did.”
Angel kissed her lightly, warmed by her words. “I always will.”
“I’m going to kill him!” Cordelia yelled as she stormed back into the office.
Wesley looked at her in confusion. “Who? Not Angel, surely….”
“Not him,” Cordelia replied testily, rummaging through her desk. “Giles!”
Now Wesley was really confused. “Um, Giles? I don’t understand. Did you see the Oracles? What did they tell you?”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Yes, I saw them,” she said, dialing the phone as she spoke. “As for what they said….” She paused and waited for the phone to connect. Wesley jumped when she spoke again. “Don’t you people know how to use a phone?!” she yelled at whoever answered.
Wesley was so glad this anger wasn’t directed at him.
Cordelia looked beyond annoyed. “I’m putting you on the speaker phone so I can yell at you properly,” she said, then viciously pressed the button on the phone.
“-delia,” came Giles’ weary voice. “What is this all about? This is really…”
“Not a good time?” Cordelia demanded. “You too busy with the funeral you didn’t bother to tell us about?”
Wesley paled. “Funeral?” he gasped. “Who…?”
“Hmm?” Cordelia said. “Are you going to tell him?” No answer, or at least not a coherent one. “Fine, I’ll do it. It’s Buffy. She is dead, right Giles?”
A long moment of silence. “Yes. How…?”
“When?” asked Wesley.
“No, don’t answer that.” Cordelia was glaring at the telephone. “Let’s say…last Friday night? About 9:15 pm?” When Giles didn’t respond, she continued angrily. “Why didn’t you tell us, huh? Didn’t think we’d care? Or are we a disgrace to have around? Not appropriate to have a vampire at the Slayer’s funeral no matter what the circumstances are, is that it?”
Giles sounded decidedly flustered. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Do you hear that?” Cordelia asked Wesley sarcastically. “He’s sorry. Sorry for what, Giles?”
“Cordelia, please!” Giles interrupted wearily. “I am sorry. Sorry…that I did not think to inform you of what had happened. I should have. The truth is…since Buffy died…it’s been hard. We’ve been too busy….”
“With what?!” Cordelia yelled, obviously not caring. “Vampires, demons, the end of the world? What else is new?!”
“Well, yes,” Giles agreed. There was another long silence. “The end of the world,” he said in a whisper. Then, stronger but hesitant, “I hate to ask you this, but, with Buffy…gone, we need your help.”
“Don’t you mean Angel’s help?” Cordelia said softly, only her eyes showing her anger now.
“Well, yes.”
“Sorry, but he’s unable to come to the phone right now,” Cordelia said, her voice eerily calm.
“Cordelia!” Giles replied in stern annoyance.
“No!” Cordelia yelled back. “You listen here, Giles! Friday night…about 9:15 pm…we were out demon hunting when Angel collapsed. Actually, to be more correct, he screamed and then he collapsed – and I can go a long time without hearing a scream like that again. But the point is this – Angel hasn’t spoken a word since then. He lies in bed, not seeing anything, not hearing anything…. So, no Giles, we won’t help you. We can’t even help him. God help us all if the world comes to an end because of this.”
“Good lord,” Giles said in shock.
That only made Cordelia angrier. “Do you know how hard it is to force feed a vampire?!” she yelled. “Not to mention disgusting.”
“I…I’m sorry,” Giles sputtered.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Cordelia said back coldly. “Angel’s the one you should really be apologizing to, and he won’t hear a word you say. And you know what? Neither will I.”
It didn’t matter who hung up the phone first. There was nothing else to be said anyway.
Neither night nor day ever came to the gray reality where Angel walked. Still, it had seemed brighter since they recognized their love for each other. How long ago was that? Time had no meaning…. An eternity. A moment.
They were getting to know their new reality, playing with it as a child might play with clay. They had learned that they could transform it with their thoughts, create things out of the mists. They produced trinkets for each other, signs of devotion, and laughed in silent pleasure at each other’s company.
They were walking again, the mind giving new forms to their paths. Ill-defined gardens and pleasure walks…pleasant places…hinted at the corners of their vision. It was thus that they discovered something about this place that spoke about the very nature of it.
“I want to show you something,” Buffy whispered one day…night…whatever.
“Alright,” Angel whispered back, sensing something interesting in her mood.
She leaned close and kissed him, surprising him. After a moment he responded eagerly, closing his eyes and let the moment of togetherness and passion sweep all thoughts from his mind. Even when the kiss ended they simply held each other for a minute, comfortable in each other’s arms. There were few places that felt so perfect.
When Angel opened his eyes again he saw Buffy smiling up at him. Her eyes were filled with happiness that he could not help but share. Thus it was that he was lost in her eyes and did not at first notice the changes in everything around them.
The place where they stood was darker now, but not the oppressive dark gray of when they first arrived here. Rather it was the darkness of a room with windows to the night outside. The soft sound of rain echoed on the windowpanes. Angel looked around in surprise. He knew this place. It was his old apartment, the one night he and Buffy had been together before everything changed. It was different though. It seemed to glow, filled with a tangible sense of love and joy. Was this how it still was in Buffy’s mind?
“Treasure every moment we had,” she whispered in his ear. “I do.”
Angel nodded. He understood. “Nothing lasts forever.”
Cordelia was sitting pensively at Angel’s bedside. His eyes were closed, thankfully, but that provided little relief. She knew that there was nothing she could do, knew that he’d have to wake up in his own time, but at the same time she knew that if he didn’t wake up soon they were all doomed.
“And I’m sick of playing nursemaid!” Cordelia said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
There was no response, but she wasn’t expecting one. Angel hadn’t moved in two days now, a fact that was beginning to worry Cordelia. Oh, if his eyes were open then you could make him move, but he didn’t even roll over of his own free will anymore. He was terribly pale, like a ghost. She didn’t think it was possible for him to get paler, but he had.
“I hope you’re happy where you are,” Cordelia said to him in a harsh almost-whisper. “Wherever it is, it must be better than here.” Cordelia looked at the comatose vampire for a response and, getting none, kept talking. “I spoke to Giles again today. I think he’s feeling bad for not speaking to us before Buffy’s funeral. So now he’s telling me everything that’s going on. And…it’s not good, Angel.
“You know how Buffy died, I think. A group of demons, trying to end the world. Doesn’t that get repetitive to them? Anyway, it was one ritual in a series of many. Just preparation for the big shebang. They needed to sacrifice a natural witch for one. Buffy barely managed to rescue Willow.”
She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but she needed to. Maybe, somehow, he’d actually hear her and realize how much he was needed. Maybe he’d come back. “With Buffy gone, though…. They still managed to complete their ritual. They got a friend of Willow’s, a girl named Tara. So, now the demons are stronger than before and one step closer to Armageddon. The Slayerettes are a basket case. The Initiative is being decimated by the demons and is about to run for the hills.”
She paused for dramatic effect. “And you’re unconscious.” She glared at the vampire even though he couldn’t see her. “If you don’t snap out of this soon…. You can forget about ‘redemption,’ Angel, because the whole world is going to Hell.”
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