and Buffy the Vampire Slayer
do not belong to me. They belong to Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions, 20th Century Fox Television and Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox Television respectively.
I make no profit from the creation and distribution of this story. I am poor. I own nothing.
The road in front of the Jeffersonian Institution was filled with cars rushing back and forth. So much the better as far as she was concerned. It meant that her chances of being seen were low. Not that he’d recognize her if he did see her, after all, they’d known each other a lifetime ago.
But maybe he would feel the same strange tug on his soul that she felt on hers. Even after she had heard the news she’d still felt that magnetic pull. Despite all evidence to the contrary she’d known that it wasn’t true. That they were lying to her. Because if he was dead then why did her soul still point towards him like a quivering gun dog.
For months, she had desperately researched for an answer. Delving deeper into the mysteries and painstakingly piecing the events leading up to the Last Stand in the Hyperion Hotel Alley. It wasn’t until she’d had a surprise visit from Cordelia though, that she’d finally begun to understand what had happened.
“I’m supposed to tell you to stop looking for him. That it’s leading you down a path that you’ve already turned away from,” her former nemesis had said, her head tilted to one side. “But you already know that and I know you. You’d only search harder for him. So I’ll throw you a bone, PtB be damned.”
“Why?” had been all she’d been able to croak, her shock at seeing the dead seer having all but robbed her of her voice.
Cordelia had shrugged, “They won’t let me see him either. I figure someone should look in on him. Make sure he’s okay. Happy even,” she’d tilted her head again as though listening to a voice that only she could hear.
“I haven’t got much time,” she’d told her. “So listen carefully. When the Black Thorn forced Angel to sign the Shanshu Prophecy, he didn’t waive his right to it, he claimed
it.” Cordelia began to fade from view.
“Wait!” she’d cried. “What prophecy? Who’s the Black Thorn? How do I find him?”
Cordelia’s smile was the very last thing to fade away, “You could have found him in High School.” Her voice had echoed as she finally faded from view.
Cryptic though the visit had been, it was enough to guide her to the right path. Within a week, she was in possession of the full facts regarding the ‘LA incident’ as her friends called it. Well, when they referred to it at all that was. But knowing what had happened didn’t help her to find him.
So she’d stolen the sole remaining photograph they had of him and run it through some government computers, hoping but not really expecting to find him. And she had!
FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth; six foot one, brown hair, brown eyes and the spitting image of Angel. Staring at the photo included in his file she’d burst into tears.
At that point, she had been searching for him for almost two years, battling against her friends’ condemnation of him and his actions, fighting to uncover his reasoning. Although she had known deep down that he wasn’t dead, she had never let herself truly believe it until she was confronted with the evidence. And now the deeply buried stresses and strains that she had subjected herself to in her search from him had risen like a newly sired vampire from the grave and overwhelmed her.
So she cried.
Afterwards, as she’d mopped her streaming eyes and dripping nose (why couldn’t she be one of those elegant creatures that could cry without looking as though they’d just been shoved face first into a bowl of rock salt?) she’d read his file once… twice… three times. Then she’d forced herself to switch off the computer and go patrolling as if nothing was wrong. Thankfully, no one had commented on her red eyes and she hadn’t been forced to make up a lie that would have turned her as scarlet as her nose.
Falling into bed that night she had stared at the ceiling for hours, trying to work out her next move. Her friends had no idea that she’d been actively looking for Angel, having assumed that like them she had accepted his return to evil and eventual death. Her search wasn’t something she’d ever been tempted to discuss with them, knowing how angry the vampire had made them before his death. Xander for example, still spat every time his name was mentioned, and so they’d gradually stopped talking about him. As far as she was aware, they all hated him. Well, except for Faith. She was just pissed that Angel hadn’t called her when the ‘shit hit the fan’.
When rumours of a young Slayer in Washington DC had reached them the next day, it had seemed fated. She’d volunteered to check it out and twenty-six hours later had touched down in her nation’s Capitol.
Unexpected nerves had assailed her as she had stepped out of the cool airport and into the hot and sticky summer day. Stepping into a waiting Taxi, she gave him the address of the Council House on Capitol Hill, wound the window right down and watched the city unfold, her head full of thoughts of Angel. How different would he be, this human version of him? He’d been an army sniper, had a son, heck, he was physically older than Angel! She had to remember not to call him Angel when they met. He was Agent Seeley Booth now. Human and with a completely normal life. What right did she have to bring the supernatural into his life? Would he even want to know that he was the reincarnation of a deceased 240-year-old vampire with a soul? For all she knew he was happy as he was. But she had to know. She had to see
So she’d asked the taxi-driver to wait while she dropped off her bags and then headed straight for the Jeffersonian. Standing on the other side of the road, she stared at the imposing building. Logically she knew that she probably wouldn’t see him from here, that he was probably parked somewhere else, but she couldn’t move. She knew that he was in there. Something somewhere deep inside her could feel him and was screaming the news with joy. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that–
There he was!
Striding towards her, deep in conversation with a woman that she recognized as Temperance Brennan, the forensic anthropologist he worked with. Oh Goddess, she’d thought that she was ready, she frantically thought as she began to tremble. She’d thought she was prepared. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Angel in the sun.
Someone was watching them, Booth realized as he and Bones walked towards his car. Continuing his discussion with her, he subtly scoped out their surroundings.
“Booth. Booth?” Temperance tried to attract Booth’s attention as he stood by the locked door of his car. Frustrated by his lack of response she waved her hand in front of his face, “Booth!”
She followed his gaze across the road to a slight red-haired woman who was equally transfixed by her partner, staring at him with a deer-in-the-headlamps look. She’d never really understood that phrase before, Temperance mused as a lorry roared between the tableau.
As it passed, Temperance realized that the woman had vanished. Shaken, she turned to Booth. He looked as shocked as she felt.
“Who was that?” she asked him.
Booth unlocked the car. “I don’t know,” he said shortly as he got inside.
“You must have some idea.” Temperance frowned, “How did she just disappear like that?”
“I’ve never seen her before,” Booth told her.
So how did he know her, he wondered as he navigated the midday traffic. And why wasn’t he surprised by her disappearing act?
“Drop it Bones!” he snapped, switching the radio on.
Startled, Temperance glanced at him before settling back in her seat. Booth’s jaw was set and he stared determinedly at the traffic. Fine. So he didn’t want to talk. She folded her arms and stared out of the window.
Who was that woman?