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Not Alone
by: Evil Willow
rated: mild R for language
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they just torment me with story ideas until I give in and write them. When they're not doing that, they belong to Joss, the WB and FOX.
Distribution: My site, anyone who has permission, any archives associated with lists I'm sending this to. Those not in the above categories, just email and ask.  I'll say yes.
Summary: An alternate take on what could have happened between Darla and Angel after The Trial. If the Powers that Be hadn't chosen to jerk him around.
Spoilers: Up through Season 2 ep of Angel: The Trial Pairing: Darla/Angel (friendship or more? You decide)
Category: Story/Angst/Romance(?)
Keywords: Alternate Universe after The Trial
Author's Notes: This is something I wish had happened after The Trial. It's all non-canon, my own little plot of 'what could have been'. Written in Angel's Point of View.
Dedications: To Samantha and Rubeus for the beta. To Dru for being the ultimate feedbacker and source of encouragement.

*******************

10 p.m.

I watch in horror as Darla feeds from her new sire, Drusilla.  Drusilla continues to smirk at me, in silent triumph through it all.  Her attitude doesn't surprise me. She hates me, after all.  She has every right to. She's the one childe whose face haunts me at night the most. I destroyed her; so here she is now, trying to do the same to me.

At some point tonight, probably due to the shock of the situation, I've fallen to my knees. Lindsey's men are still holding me by my arms and I would laugh at their cowardice if I wasn't so damn weary. They don't get it; I'm no danger to them now.  I *want* to scream, I *want* to break necks, I *want* to destroy every pathetic human in this hotel room. But I can't.  The challenge has already sapped my strength to dangerous levels, and Lindsey's security force finished the job. My body couldn't even attempt movement now if my unlife depended on it.

Finally, Drusilla tosses Darla on the bed and turns back to face me. "Hello, Daddy," she says with a grin. "Surprised to see me again?"

"Why?" I ask. I'm not expecting to get a sane answer out of her, but I attempt to anyway.

"My flowers told me that someone was looking for me," she replies.  She walks over to me slowly.  "Then that lovely boy showed up at my house," she points to Lindsey, "and he told me that he needed my help.  You know, My Angel, nobody has *ever* needed my help before." She frowns, thoughtfully, "And then he told me that it would make you angry, so I *knew* I had to come.  Payback is so... much.... fun!" She laughs then, but trails off in a pout suddenly, probably due to seeing the pained look on my face.  That's My Girl, she always did hate making me mad...no matter how much she thought she'd like it at the time. She kneels down in front of me and reaches for my face; but I pull away in revulsion. "Come now, Daddy.  You always told me I was a naughty girl, but I showed you I can be so much naughtier than you could ever imagine!" And there it is, the truth revealed. She was trying to impress HIM. She always wanted so desperately to make HIM proud. Well, he's proud all right, but she's not going to hear that from me.

She laughs again and I wonder if she's been able to read my thoughts.  She stands and turns to Lindsey.

"I'm tired," she announces to him. "And he's no fun," she waves her hand at me dismissively. Lindsey, who has been standing by the bed, watching Darla, walks over to stand

in front of me.

"You know, Lindsey. Some humans are worse than demons."

"Why's that?" Lindsey replies.

"Because they have souls, but they've somehow managed to poison them to the point that they can ignore them."

"I'm hurt," Lindsey says sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes. "I gave you every chance to save her, Angel. But you wouldn't, so I took the matter into my own hands."

"Save her?" I ask skeptically. "Boy, you've damned her, for the second time in her existence!" He's so stupid, blinded by his ambitions, blinded by his need for power. Blinded, in this case, by his lust for Darla. She always did have a way to wrap men around her little finger. I know this fact well. I used to be one of them.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Lindsey says with an irritated sigh. "I let them - helped them - bring her back.  I wasn't about to watch her die then." He nods to one of the men behind me and I cry out in surprise and pain as I feel a needle in my neck.

"It's just a tranquilizer," Lindsey tells me, but it seems like he's already very far away. "Dunno why, but the firm wants to keep you around for a little while longer.

Yay for me.

I can't fight the effects of whatever they gave me though and I eventually slip into the darkness.

******************

Part Two

I wake. I don't know how much time has passed, but I'm alone in the hotel room. I drag myself to my feet, still feeling dizzy from the tranquilizer, and look at the clock. It's 5 a.m. Who knows where they are by now? Wolfram and Hart always did know how to hide a person. They're even better with hiding a demon. I head out to my car and start driving. I don't know where I'm going, I don't know that I'll ever be able to find Darla or Drusilla, but I have to try. Then I'm struck by a question: why? Why do I really have to try? As I contemplate the answer, it hits me.  I *don't* care if I find them or not.  

I....don't....give....a....damn.  And that's such a freeing thought, I decide to stick with it.

I pull off into the parking lot of a neighborhood park and decide to walk. I need the fresh air. I need to clear my head.  I need time to think, something I won't get if I go back to the hotel. Cordelia and Wesley mean well, but I can't take their concerned looks. I can't take the expression I'll see in their eyes that means they wonder if Darla finally won and brought back Angelus.

I sit down at a bench and I try to remind myself why I'm still fighting.  I don't have a lot of luck with that, because right now I truly wouldn't give a fuck if Cordelia told me the entire world is going to end tomorrow.  I'm so tired and it just keeps getting harder.  Maybe I save a few innocents occasionally, but lately I seem to lose more than I save.  And I can't, for the life of me, remember WHY I'm doing this anymore, let alone want to do it. I need more than the vague, while noble, "quest for redemption" reason. It's not enough. Not when I've lost everything that really matters to me. What good is the "someday you'll be alive again" reward, when most likely by then I won't have anyone to share that reward with.

Buffy.  She used to be my reason to fight, because the soul made me able to love again in a way I hadn't since I was turned. And that love made me want to deserve her love. But then I lost her, because I really didn't deserve her. So I came to L.A. Claims for a need for purpose and quest for redemption aside, that was really all about her, too. There was a hope, in the back of my mind: One Day. One Day, I'd prove to the Powers that Be that I had changed, that I'd sacrificed enough. One Day they'd give me back my life. One Day I *would* be worthy of her.

But then a different kind of One Day came. One Day in which I found out that Buffy had moved on. All my own damn fault for opening my big, noble mouth and telling her to do just that.  I guess I never thought she'd be able to, because I knew *I* wouldn't. I forgot how young she was, how much easier it is to move past a broken heart at that age. It would have destroyed me, but luckily I had another reason to keep fighting: saving souls in need of help. First was Kate. Oh, right, screwed that one up. But then there was Faith.  The jury's still out on her, but I'd like to hope.

And then there was Darla.

And here I am. Interesting how I've gone full-circle in two-hundred forty-seven years. She was the one to end my life as a human. So then I ended her life as a vampire. Then, Wolfram and Hart brought her back as a human. Oh, but the catch was, she's dying. They knew that I'd give everything I had to save her. And they also knew I would fail, since they rigged the game all along. So the real reason they brought her back: to destroy me. And the funny thing is, I think they might have succeeded.

Because, really, there's nothing left now. Cordelia and Wesley will go on without me. Buffy, she's already adapted to life without me. Kate *wishes* for a life without me. I'm not worried about Faith, she's a survivor. And Darla, she was the ultimate failure. I really thought I'd saved her...then it all came crashing down. And the only thing I keep coming back to is that it's all my fault.

I pull myself out of my reverie, because I can feel dawn approaching. I should get back to the hotel. And there's that annoying, little voice in my head again, asking why I should.  And since I still don't have an answer, I decide to stay right where I am.

"It's not that easy, Angelus."

I look up and cringe. I must have died and gone to hell and not noticed it; because there she is. Jenny Calendar.

***********

Part Three

"No, you're still alive - undead. But not for much longer if you don't pull yourself together," 'Jenny' answers my unspoken thoughts. I decide it's worth a shot, so I ask. "Why?"

"You've been asking that question a lot, tonight," she points out. "Luckily for you, you finally asked the right person.  Because, Angelus, you have far too much left to do to waste time sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. You still have souls to save."

"Go tell The Powers that Be to find themselves another warrior for the cause. I'm done. I've had enough failures for one lifetime."

"We realize you're upset you've lost. But The Powers don't like to lose, either," Jenny says cryptically before she disappears.  Good, glad that's over. I hear a screech of tires, and a scream. Sounds like a woman's voice. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't...Oh, fuck it all. I stand up and look behind me. There's a woman lying on the street.

Of course, I end up walking over to her.

She's a petite, blonde woman, her face is pressed to the pavement, turned away from me. As I get nearer, I notice she's sobbing. "Miss?"

She startles and whirls around to look at me. I step back in shock. It's Darla.

Her face is tear-streaked and she looks at me like a frightened animal. "GO AWAY!" she screams, scrambling to her feet. "NO MORE FACES, NO MORE BLOOD!" she turns and runs.

I don't bother to think about it; I run after her. Even though part of me is convinced it's a trick, I have to follow. I *am* responsible for this demon being loosed again. She runs through the park but I keep up easily. I've made a full-time job out of demon chasing, after all.

She eventually trips and falls to her hands and knees. Instead of getting up again, she goes fetal, arms around her waist. She starts mumbling things I can't hear. As I draw nearer, warily, I can hear then: "Stop... please stop... blood...death everywhere... I didn't know.... please stop.... I'm sorry.... I'm sorry...." She looks up at me, still with the frightened eyes and stands, "Please stop haunting me," she begs. She reaches out to touch me and her fingers graze my hand. I step back quickly and she says, "You're real," as if she didn't realize it earlier. "Please help me!" The tears are running down her face.

God, if I didn't know better, I'd say she was acting the way *I* did when the gypsies cursed me. But that's not possible. This has *got* to be another trick. From force of habit, I've pulled a stake out of my pocket. I approach her slowly, ready to end this madness. As I raise my arm to stake her, she doesn't even flinch. But I can't do it. I sigh and drop my hand to my side again.

She looks at me, disappointment on her face, and says, "Well, if you won't do it, the sun will!" She turns and runs again. I watch her for a minute, completely bewildered, before I start after her again.

The voice in my head has started up again. This is a trick, this is a trick, this is a trick. I'm ninety percent in agreement with it. It's the other ten percent that keeps me following her.

She slows and eventually stops again. She turns to face me.  "WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! I HAVE GHOSTS ENOUGH, ALL THE FACES OF THE OTHER ONES WHO HATE ME!"

Do I hate her? I don't think so, but I don't know why.

"PLEASE!" She begs. "Angelus, please make it stop. You can make it all stop in an instant." She drops to her knees. "KILL ME, I KILLED YOU! I DAMNED YOU! GET YOUR REVENGE!" she screams at me, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I can't," I say softly. She screams and falls to the ground again, sobs wracking her body.

I hear footfalls. I turn to see Cordelia and Wesley approaching.  I'm not sure how they found us. "Come on," Cordelia says, pulling on my arm. "We've got all of about half an hour before sunrise."

"What about--"

"Oh, she's coming," Cordelia says with an irritated look toward Darla. "Don't ask. I'll explain when we get you two somewhere you won't become crispy critters."

Obviously Cordelia knows something I don't. While she was talking, Wesley has managed to pick up Darla. She's beyond fighting, but she's still crying.

"We'll take Gunn's truck, it's close," Cordelia says. I follow them and soon we're at the truck; Gunn's in the drivers seat. I take Darla from Wesley and get into the truck, keeping her on my lap. She grabs my shirt as she tries to get closer to me and I just put an arm around her waist. I'm too dazed to do anything else. Cordelia and Wes get in the back of the truck; and Gunn gets us to the hotel in record time.

***************

Part Four

We walk into the lobby, and I set Darla on the couch. She's rocking back and forth now, chanting, "Killmekillmekillme...."

I turn to Cordelia, and before I can ask, she says, "We've got someplace to be," and takes my hand.

There's a flash of light, and then she and I are in another place.  I recognize it though, and immediately start looking for the door.

"Angelus," I hear her voice, and turn.

"Why don't you just go away. Don't you have a higher plane to go inhabit?" I ask the apparition of Jenny Calendar. "I know I killed you, but enough is enough already!" I look over at Cordelia, she's gaping at Jenny like she's just seen a ghost. Which she has.

"Don't you want to know about her?" 'Jenny' asks.

I sigh, and shrug. "I doubt I really have a say in the matter.  You brought me here, so say what you wanted to say."

"Not me, the Powers that Be," Jenny says. "They were shocked, to say the least when you risked your life for Darla. To accept that Challenge, even knowing it meant giving your life in exchange for hers, it moved them. And they are not easily moved."

"Excuse me," Cordelia interrupts. I turn to face the wrath of Cordelia, and that's definitely what I see in her face. "YOU DID WHAT?!" she shrieks and hits me, quite hard, on the arm.

"Ow!" I back away, rubbing my arm. "I've got burns, thank you very much."

"WHAT ARE YOU, A MENTAL CASE?" she screams. "THIS IS DARLA, ANGEL, THE VAMPIRE WHO MADE YOU ALL GRR, REMEMBER? HOW COULD YOU BE WILLING TO DIE FOR HER?!"

"She wasn't a vampire, when I tried to help her," I reply. "Yes, she did some bad things, but so did I, Cordelia. She was in trouble, and I had to help her. And I almost reached her, because right before Dru turned her she'd accepted the fact she was going to die. She'd made her peace with it."

"And it was your sacrifice that caused that change in her," Jenny says. "But the Powers weren't expecting this change in you so soon.  They knew the willingness you had to save those who were innocents.  But tonight you offered your life for someone who didn't even deserve it. You didn't know that she wouldn't turn around and keep looking for a return to her former existence. You showed a capacity for love, that quite honestly they didn't know you had in you."

"I don't love her," I protest, but it sounds weaker than I meant it.  I don't love her. I don't. I love Buffy. Don't I?

Jenny shrugs, "It's really pointless to tell omniscient beings they're wrong. Regardless, as a result of your actions tonight, the Powers decided you'd earned the right to be free of one struggle.  They removed the happiness clause from your curse, the soul is now permanent."

"Oh.... my.... God..."

Yeah, I think Cordelia said it all.

********************

Part Five

Jenny dropped bomb number one, and it's a good thing I don't have to breathe.  I don't think I'd be able to remind myself of it, there are too many jumbled thoughts going through my mind right now.  But I notice a hint of a smile on Jenny's lips, and I know there's a bomb number two.

Sure enough, she says, "And that's not all. They were most certainly very upset by the return of Drusilla. They knew she was coming, but didn't know why. Drusilla's the owner of a very dark power, and she managed to hide her motives from the knowledge of the Powers.  They were only able to warn Cordelia after the fact, unfortunately, about Darla. And they also showed her of the other. Do you want to tell him?" she asks Cordelia.

"Uh, no thanks," Cordelia says, looking quite nervous. "I wasn't thrilled with the choice, anyway. I'd rather we staked her."

"Would somebody please tell me what's going on?" I ask, really wanting to get back to the hotel in case something else bad happens tonight.

"Don't you already know?" Jenny asks me.

"No," I reply, ignoring the voice in my head arguing with me.  I don't want to speculate. I need to hear this from the source, or at least the messenger from the source.

"After all the years you spent with her, you can't see the change in her?" Jenny asks. Apparently she enjoys cryptic almost as much as I do. But, okay, I get it.

"So.... they returned her soul to her?" I ask, finally able to voice what I've been avoiding and what she's been dancing around saying. "Why would they do that? For me? That's a cruel thing to do to her, and I'd never want that."

"Not for you, Angelus, for her," Jenny replies. She waves her hand, and I see it, as if I'm watching it again. Drusilla grabs Darla, and sinks her fangs into Darla's throat. Then I hear Darla's voice, and realize I'm being allowed access to her thoughts at that moment.

"No! If there's anything out there, don't do this. I love him, and always have, the man who's always been hidden there behind the demon.  Don't let me be another instrument used by those who want to hurt him."

It's my turn to gape at Jenny in disbelief. "That's not true," I say finally.

"If she .... she threw me out of our home."

"That's a question for her to answer," Jenny replies. "I've done my part, you decide where to go from here, Angel."

And suddenly, Cordy and I are back in the hotel room. Darla's huddled on the couch where I left her, her knees drawn up and her head covered by her arms, and Wesley's standing nearby watching her warily.

"Go home," I say to them, and turn to walk to Darla. I hear them both say "Bye!" and run out quickly. I hope they can learn to deal with this new addition to our lives. It looks like Darla will be around for a while, because I can't stake her. The human Darla is still too fresh in my mind, and how I failed her. If I'm honest with myself, I know had selfish reasons at first for helping her. It was nice to know that someone finally understood what it is to be cursed with a soul after many years of being free of it. The possibility that at last I would no longer be alone in going through this, that was something I didn't want to give up.

But that didn't end up being the end reason. But I don't want to face anything else of a shocking nature tonight, so I push those remaining issues back for now. Now, Darla needs my help. And if there's something I pretend to be good at, it's helping others.

************

Part Six

Darla looks up at me as I approach, and I halt in my tracks as I see it all in her eyes. There's no trick here, I really didn't need the Powers that Be to tell me that. She's so vulnerable right now, and I see the pain, guilt, and something else. Okay, so that wasn't a lie, she really does care for me. I don't understand it, but I can't deny it.

"Please help me," she whimpers, and I know that anguish in her eyes. I walk over to the couch, and sit next to her. She regards me warily, but doesn't change her posture, still holding herself tightly. She's probably wondering if I'm going to help her. And then the question is, of course, just *how* I'll decide to help her, if I will.

"I will help you," I say softly. "But I won't stake you. I can't."

Her expression wavers between relief and disappointment, but she doesn't press the issue. "Why did this happen to me?" she asks. I sigh, "Which part? Drusilla? I'm afraid that's my fault, I never took the opportunity to stop her madness, and now it's been revisited on me and you. Your soul? Well, although the Powers that Be deny it, I'm afraid that's my fault too."

"It's not," she replies shaking her head. "Angel, I didn't want to be added to your list of failures, it wasn't fair. I've already caused you enough pain. This is my doing, I challenged the higher powers not to let Wolfram and Hart use me against you. I suppose I should have been more detailed in my request" she lets a small smile escape for a moment. "Next time I'll come right out and say kill me, please."

"I'm glad you're not gone," I say, and I wonder where that came from.

She looks at me, as if trying to read my face. "Why? Why don't you want me dead? After all I did to you? Or is it simply that you hate me so much you *want* me to go through this pain?"

"No," I protest vehemently. "I don't hate you, Darla."

"How can you *not* hate me? How can you even look at me without wanting me dead?" she asks. "I want me dead. I did so many horrible things, to so many people."

"I can't hate you, because I know what you're going through right now," I say gently. "I know what it is to be so tormented by the results of your actions that you want to end it all. And to answer your other question, I don't think you *deserve* this pain, any more than anyone *deserves* pain. It's a part of this existence, though, and there's no getting around it."

"How can you be so understanding?" she asks. "Especially you, after what I did to you. I made you into this. And I'm sorry for doing that to you," she says, and she's crying uncontrollably now. "I'm so sorry, Angel, and I'll never be able to make it right." She puts her face in her hands, as the sobs rack her slight frame.

That's one of the few things I've wanted her to understand for so long. That this existence she gaves me wasn't a gift, that I never wanted it in the first place. I never expected to hear this apology from her, but it means so much to hear those words out of her mouth.

And I know she means it, which makes it even more important to hear. "I forgive you."

************

Part Seven

She's shocked enough by my words to drop her feet to the floor, and turn to face me. Yeah, it surprised me too to hear those words, but I meant them.  And it feels like a huge weight off my shoulders to say it, because to give her even the slightest bit of peace gives me peace too.

"How?" she asks, tearfully. "How can you forgive me? Why should you?"

"Not because I *should* say it, Darla, but because it's true.  I can forgive you, because I know you mean it when you say you're sorry.  I know you understand what you did when you were under the demon's control, and that you'd change it all if you could."

"I would," she replies. "I wish you'd never met me outside that bar, Angel. I wish you'd been able to live your life the way you were supposed to."

"I regret what I was, Darla, but I was given another chance, and I try to make the best of it now," I say. "The chance to make up for what I've done, in any way I can. You've been given that chance, too."

"I don't know if I want that chance," she replies, looking away. "I'm not like you, Angel. I'm not that strong."

"I'd have to disagree with you on that one," I say. "You're stronger than you think you are, Darla. You always were."

"Am I?" she asks, looking at me questioningly. "How do you know that, when I don't even know what I am anymore? I'm not the Darla you knew a couple hundred years ago, and I'm not the Darla I was even twenty- four hours ago. I'm some strange combination of the two. Or maybe I'm something completely different, but I don't *know.*

"You'll figure it out," I reply. "I believe that the person you were just a few hours ago is still here. Yes, you've got the demon to contend with, and I won't lie to you and say it's easy. It takes time, but you will start to feel comfortable with this existence."

"I can't," she protests, brushing the tears from her face.

"You can," I insist. "I know it hurts, it hurts like hell most days," I reply.

"Yes, the soul brings pain, but eventually it becomes easier to deal with. It also makes it possible to feel other things, though, things that the demon was never capable of. And some days, there are moments that make it all worth it."

"I can't," she repeats. "I can't do this alone. It's just too much--" her voice catches in a sob, and she turns away.

"You're not alone, Darla." I reply.

She doesn't respond and I reach out to her, letting my hand rest on her shoulder. She stiffens, but I don't back off.

"Don't," she says, almost a whisper.

"Don't what?"

"Don't play with me," she says, with more force. "I can't take it," she tries to pull out of my grip, but I don't let her. Instead, I try to turn her to face me.

"Look at me." She resists, and I repeat "Darla, *look* at me." She gives in after a minute, but her eyes are suspicious. "This is *not* a game. I can help you--"

"I don't want your pity," she cuts me off angrily, and finally succeeds in pulling away from my grasp. She backs into the corner of the couch, and pulls her knees back up to her chest, resting her head on her knees. And now I remember what a talent she had, and apparently still has, for frustrating the hell out of me. She's so proud, never really wanted to make it seem like she needed anyone. When the truth is, as she revealed a moment ago, she's always hated being alone.

"Damn it, Darla. This isn't pity," I say, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice. "I *sympathize* with what you're going through. And I can - I *want to* - help you. All you have to do is let me." I reach out my hand to her, and she eyes me warily. I wait, because I've learned from my earlier failures with Faith and Kate.  She asked me to help her earlier, but it's obvious she doesn't really know what she wants. And I can't force her to take my help. I can't help her unless she really wants my help.

***************

Part Eight

Darla's still looking at me suspiciously, and I sigh. "It's up to you," I say with a shrug. "You can say 'to hell with it,' and try to make it on your own. But I speak from experience in telling you that you don't really want that."

"Well, I don't want the damn memories or the guilt, either," she says. "Maybe I just want to end it all," she adds, looking at me defiantly.

"I won't stop you if you want to walk out that door," I say. "The sunrise was ten minutes ago." Even though I want to stop her, with physical force if necessary, I quell that urge. It's not as if I don't understand the need to make the pain go away. After all, just a few moments ago I was planning on welcoming the sunrise myself.

Her expression changes, and I can see it in her eyes, she's struggling with herself, trying to choose a path.

She drops her feet to the floor again, and looks toward the doorway, and I fear I've lost again. Then she turns back to me, and her eyes drop to look at my still-outstretched hand, and I can sense her internal struggle.

"I don't want to end it all," she says, almost a whisper, her eyes meeting mine.

"Then take a chance," I urge her. "What do you have to lose? Darla, you have to know, somewhere deep inside, that you can trust me."

Her eyes seem to search mine for signs of any deception. I meet her gaze, hoping she can sense the truth in my statement.

She reaches a trembling hand out, toward mine, and I stifle the urge to sigh with relief. I will do nothing to spook her. Then, finally her hand is in mine, and any intention I had to keep her at a safe distance crumbles when I see the tears well up in her eyes.

I give her hand a tug, and she doesn't resist. She goes willingly into my arms, and I pull her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her waist. She grabs onto my shirt, as if her life depends on it. Her entire body is trembling, and I tighten my grip on her. "It'll be okay," I try to comfort her, one hand rubbing her back soothingly, the other arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"You're not alone, Darla," I assure her. "I'm going to help you get through this."

***************

Part Nine

I don't know how long we sit like that, it might be minutes or hours.  But finally, she stops  crying. She must realize the death grip she has on my shirt, because she releases it then. She pulls away and settles next to me on the couch, and looks up at me. "Thank you," she says, a fleeting smile on her lips before she looks away again.

"You're welcome," I reply.

"Angel, you're not alone either," she says then, looking at me earnestly. "I can be there for you, too."

"I don't want you to feel obligated," I protest, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

"You told me that you help others because you need to make amends, right?" she asks.

"Well, yes..." I reply.

"Does it help you deal with the guilt?"

"Helping others does help me get through the day," I say.

"Well, then, why shouldn't I do the same?" she asks. I don't really have a good comeback for that, and she continues. "Maybe, at some point, I'll help you with your work here.  But right now, it seems to me that I have so much to make up for where you are concerned," she says. "Let me." She smiles, easier this time, and adds, "What do you have to lose?"

"Touche," I reply with a chuckle. "Okay," I shrug. "We'll help each other."

"Good."

"Darla, have you fed?" I ask. I feel the need to feed, as I still feel weak from the Challenge.

She wrinkles her nose in disgust and shakes her head. "No," she admits. "I woke like ...this."

I have other questions about how she got to the point where she was thrown out on the street earlier, but I push them aside for the moment. If she hasn't had the opportunity to feed, she's got to be having trouble controlling the demon's blood lust. "I'll be back in a minute," I say, and walk into the kitchen to get herself and me some blood.

I pour the blood into mugs, and heat them up in the microwave. I return to the entryway to check on her, but she's curled up on the couch resting. Convinced she won't be committing suicide anytime soon, I return to the kitchen to wait for the blood to warm.

"What a night," I mutter with a weary sigh.

**********

Part Ten

I return to the lobby with the mugs of blood, and hand one to her.  She takes it, but hesitates before drinking it. Understanding her discomfort, I slip into gameface and start drinking the blood in my mug. She visibly relaxes and does so as well. I sit next to her, and wait for her to finish before I start asking her the many questions I have rattling in my head.

She finishes the blood and sets her mug down on the table. "I know you want to know what happened," she says. "They must have taken me somewhere, after Drusilla turned me. I woke in a room, a hotel room.  I was hit by so much pain, and I didn't know what was going on.  Lindsey was there, and I remember he started asking me questions. I couldn't answer him, I don't think I was vey coherent.

"He brought Drusilla in, and she sensed it immediately. She was furious, she came at me with a stake, but Lindsey held her off.  Holland showed up, and he told Holland what had happened.

"Holland ordered his guards to put me into the limo. Lindsey and Holland were in the back with me. They argued, but I didn't really pay them any attention. The car stopped, and Holland shoved me out onto the street. I guess I know now that Holland saw me as a liability, and wanted to dispose of me. They drove off, and that's where you came in."

"Well, I guess one good thing is that they assume you're dust right now," I say.

"That will buy us some time."

"You really think it will matter to them if I'm not?" she asks, a doubtful frown on her face.

"Darla, they've done nothing but try to use you to get to me since they brought you back," I remind her gently. "They won't be happy when they find out that you're not dust, and not just that but that you're here with me."

"I suppose you're right," she replies. "But then maybe that means I shouldn't be here."

"We're not even going to argue about that," I reply firmly.

"But--"

"No buts," I insist. "I can protect you better if you're here, Darla.  And don't even bother to tell me I don't need to protect you. Accept the fact that I want to protect you, and you'll make both of our lives much easier."

"How long do you think we can keep them from finding out?" she asks, and I'm grateful she's not arguing.

"I don't know," I reply. "But we'll do everything we can to make sure it doesn't happen for a long time."

She doesn't say anything, and I can sense her exhaustion. I could use some sleep, too. "Come on, I'll show you your room."

She follows me upstairs, and I show her to the extra room I had Cordelia prepare weeks ago for    . "I'm just next door," I tell her.  "If you need anything--" She places a hand on my arm. "I'll be fine," she says with a smile.

I give her a raised eyebrow, "If you need anything," I repeat, "don't hesitate to come get me."

She chuckles, "Okay. I promise. Is that better?"

"Much," I reply with a smile. "Try to get some sleep," I add and turn to go. I reach my own room, and realize I'm more tired than I thought I was. I climb into bed without bothering to take my clothes off.  That would take too much effort. I close my eyes, and am able to relax for the first time in weeks.

I don't know what's going to happen ten minutes from now, or even ten days from now, but I can't help believing what I told her earlier: that it *will* be okay. I'll help her get through this. She wants to return the favor, too, and if I'm honest with myself, I was hoping for that, while being careful not to expect it.

I've spent a hundred years now looking for someone who understood what it was to be me. Someone to help make my existence a little easier to bear.  And I never found that, at least not among the humans.  Sure I have friends, but none of them can really understand.  They don't know the nightmares that come every night, the faces of the people whose lives I've cut short. These humans who I consider my friends are more than willing to listen if I need to talk about my pain, and then they nod their heads and mumble platitudes, but it doesn't really help.

Nothing they say helps, because they need to believe something about me in order to tolerate being around me.  They need to believe that I'm a completely different being than Angelus. They need to believe that Angelus is evil, and Angel is good. I want to believe that too, but I've come to accept that it's not that simple.  Everything that made me Angelus is still a part of me.  Yes, I was cursed with a soul, but that didn't change who I am. The soul doesn't *make* me good, there are humans who have souls who can compete with Angelus - me - in terms of evil. All the soul did was give me a sense of conscience, and I chose to abide by that conscience's leanings from that moment forward.

But it makes my human friends more comfortable believing the 'split personality' theory, so I let them do that. But it doesn't lead them to any sense of understanding what it is to be me. Nobody ever *could* understand anyway, other than another demon cursed with a soul.  And that creature didn't exist. Until tonight, and by some weird twist of fate, that creature happens to be Darla, the one who gave me eternal life. And she does understand how it feels, and she wants to help me. And I need that. I need her, probably as much as she needs me.

And if that's not irony, then I don't know the meaning of the word.

************* t h e  e n d