~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~Disclaimer: None of the characters, excepting Judy Flohr/Angela Pierce/Angie, belong to me. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, 20th Century Fox, WB, and anyone else you can think of. And Ragna, thanks for the Buffy pic! But I think I've about covered it.~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~Spoilers: You can if you think you can!~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~Rating: PG-13, for some language and violence, but really no more than on the TV show.~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~Distribution: To be distributed freely. But please do not use this story on your website without my permission. If you wish to use it, please e-mail me at the address below. I worked hard on this!~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~(P.S. Spike Girls out there, don't worry about our friend Angel. He'll get his due. I'll take care of him, and maybe something nice between Spike and Judy will happen!)
Angel looked at Angela. "All right. But you do realize that you'll have to tell them sometime, before the truth gets out. The truth always comes out eventually."
"I know. But after that decade of changes, I think I'm ready to settle down and become conservative again."
All Angel could see was Angela the first time he met her. The year was 1965, and she was one of the few dressed in hippie garb. She was fifteen, newly become the Slayer, and very close to death. Angel had pulled the vampire off her and staked it. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and she was frightened. After checking to see if she was okay, Angel had pulled one of what Buffy called "his disappearing acts". Over the next few weeks they occasionally ran into one another, and eventually developed a relationship. Angel found out that Angela was not only the Slayer, but also a white witch with the power to time-travel. For three years they went on peace marches and sit-ins, because she was a vehement pacifist. Angela was the only person that Angel had ever felt completely comfortable with, including Buffy. He had loved her more than anything, and his heart was broken the day she told him that she had to get back to her own time. She was the reason Angel never let himself open up to anyone, the reason that even Buffy could never fully penetrate his heart.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too, Angel," whispered Angela back.
They kissed, long and hard, but the scene was shattered when a cockney voice came from behind.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Mister 'I've Got A Soul' and his little mortal friend. What's the matter, Angel? The Slayer getting too hot for you to handle, so you thought you'd get an easy feel?"
"What's going on?" asked Angela. "Is...is Buffy the Slayer? Have you been going out with her, Angel?"
Spike answered for Angel. He was smiling sadistically, mockingly. "To answer both of your questions, yes. In fact, did you know that Angel and Buffy even..." He whispered the last word into Angela's ear, his grin growing wider.
"You bastard," growled Angel. How could he do this to Angela? Her pain was too much for Angel to bear, and he flew at Spike, his game face on.
"Stop it!" cried Angela, physically holding him back. "Angel, leave him alone. I have a strange way of not wanting to kill people who speak the truth."
Spike grinned to himself. He knew that underneath Angela's mask, she was mortally wounded. But he did have to give the bitch credit for not trying to hit him, as Buffy would have done. For that, he decided not to kill Angela just then. "Don't worry," he called as he turned the corner, "I'll be back."
Angel walked Angela home. Angela asked him, "Was that platinum freak really telling the truth?"
Angel sighed. He had been dreading this question, but he knew he had to tell her. "Yes."
"It's better that we got that out in the open, 'cause I have something to tell you too. I...I slept with a guy in my time. His name is Gus Murray." Angel's mouth dropped open. "Close your mouth, dear," Angela smiled sardonically. "You don't want people thinking that there's something wrong with you."
"Yes, and I'm sorry. I guess that makes us even now. But don't worry. He's a thing of the past. And I love *you*, not him. I thought I did, but he's a total prick once you get to know him."
They finally reached Angela's run-down motel room. Angel's lips curled in disgust. "No offense, but do you really live in this dump?"
"Yes, I do. I can't afford any other room, not even if I wanted to," she said, playfully sticking out her tongue at him. "Got any better suggestions?"
Angel couldn't believe the next words he said. "Why don't you move in with me?"
Angela looked surprised for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Sure, but give me tomorrow to pack up. I'll need a bit of lead time. You know how much I'll miss this lovely home I've established." She gave him a devilish smile. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow evening."
"Yeah...I guess so. Good night."
"Good night, my misguided knight in shining armor."
*What have I done?* Angel asked himself as he walked home. *This time yesterday I loved Buffy. Or at least I thought I did. I do love her, but I love Angela too. Angela was my first true love since Esther in 1776. When Angela left she took my heart with her. I didn't allow myself to open up to anyone else, not even Buffy.*
Seeing as he had a major problem that was quickly escalating, Angel headed towards Giles' flat on the north side of town.
Giles nervously rubbed his glasses with a soft cloth, trying to make heads and tails of it. "You say you're in love with someone else?" he repeated.
Angel nodded. "Not only that, but I love Buffy too. If I break up with one to be with another, that means that not only will they be pissed at me, but they'll also hate each other."
He and Giles had never been the best of friends, in fact, far from it, but right now Angel desperately needed someone to talk to. And there was no way that Angel would talk to Xander or Oz. Xander for obvious reasons, and Angel liked Oz, but he didn't know him well enough to trust him with this sort of stuff.
"Well," Giles said thoughtfully, "I really can't tell you what to do, but let's start at the beginning. Whom did you know first, Buffy or this other woman?"
"The other woman," said Angel miserably.
"I don't mean to intrude, but would you mind telling me who this 'other woman' is?"
"It's...it's," said Angel, hoping with all of his dead heart that Giles did not know her, "It's a girl named Angela. Angela Pierce."
Giles's jaw dropped. He again rubbed his glasses so violently he had to stop, for fear he would shatter them. "Angela Pierce? Wasn't she a Slayer in the 1960's?"
"But...but it's impossible for her to be alive now unless--"
"Unless she's a demon," Angel finished for Giles.
Giles fumbled for a Watcher journal. "It says here that she disappeared in 1968. At the time she had only a temporary Watcher, a Joyce Simpson, who wasn't much older than Angela herself. Apparently Joyce had a nervous breakdown; she tought that she had caused Angela's disappearance. Luckily she recovered."
"Angela was a white witch. She could time-travel, and she told me that she came from 2003. In fact, she had quite a bit of experience, dating all the way back from Atlanta, 1863."
"In 1863 the Slayer was a Judith Pierce, and in 1871 she, too, mysteriously disappeared. Do you think that there's a connection?"
Angel stared at Giles, wondering how Giles could be so dumb. Usually he was the first to see what was hidden. *Well,* he told himself, *if I'd just been given this information, I would be acting pretty much the same way.* "Obviously."
Just then Buffy bounced in. "Hi, guys! What's up?" she said cheerfully. From the ecstatic look on her face Angel and Giles could tell that she had been doing her slaying stuff.
Angel turned even paler than usual. "Um, nothing," he said.
Giles agreed quickly, "Quite right." A little *too* quickly, thought Buffy.
"All right, what's going on?" she asked suspiciously.
"Nothing. Nothing at all," said Angel.
Buffy put her hands on her hips. "Did you two know that you are very bad liars?"
"Well," said Angel. "I just wanted to...uh...ask you if you wanted to go out Saturday night. Maybe we could go to a movie. Your pick."
Buffy let out a happy little squeal and threw her arms around Angel. "Oh, Angel! How sweet!" Then she gave Giles her puppy-dog look. "I can go, can't I?" she asked him. "Pleeease?"
"It's fine with me," said Giles. "You deserve a night off."
Buffy squeezed Angel even tighter and smothered his face with kisses. At that moment Angel had never felt so rotten in his whole unlife.
Spike told Dru, "I'm going out for dinner, luv. Want to come?"
Drusilla had only eyes for Miss Edith. "No," she said in a dreamy voice, "I want to stay. Miss Edith told me that if I go out something bad will happen. Something with the dark thing in Sunnydale; it's already here. Be careful, Spike."
"I will, ducks. Anyway, I'll bring you back something nice and young."
She didn't even turn around when Spike left.
Spike started singing as he turned the corner. He didn't know why, though; he really had no reason to be happy. Then he was startled by a female voice behind him.
"You know, Spike, even after thirty years your singing still sounds like shit."
Spike whirled around. " 'ey, what's the big idea, sneakin' up on me like that?" he demanded.
"What, you don't recognize me?"
The girl's face was illuminated by the street lamp. "Angie? Luv?"
"That's my name, don't wear it out," she grinned.
Spike picked her up and twirled her around. "I missed you."
"I missed you too."
Spike looked a bit confused. " 'ey, didn't I see you with Angel not twenty minutes ago?"
"Yeah, but you know me. I'm keeping him on a string, as always. He actually believes I love him!" Angie laughed.
"Well, you don't do you?" *Oops. Dumb question,* he realized. *Never should 'ave said that. Of course she loves only me.*
"Of course! Do you really think that I would actually love that powderpuff? I like the bad boys. Ain't nobody can hold a candle to you, baby."
When they kissed, Spike forgot Drusilla completely. He had no remorse going behind her back anyway. Back in the sixties, in London (Angela went between America and England without Angel's knowing, and she didn't lose any time doing it. She could travel to London and still be back in Washington in time for tea.), Spike and Angie, as Spike called her, would laugh themselves sick over Dru's insanity in between make-out sessions. They kissed again, with a burning fire that no one but the two of them had ever known and that no one else could duplicate.
Part Three--The Exciting Conclusion
Beam me up, Scotty!
Take me home, baby!
Beam me up, Scotty!