BtVS fic: Angelic Error
Title: Angelic Error
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: Yeesh. If only. I also don’t own the song.
Timeline: Pretty much the present.
Summary: There’s been a mistake or two made, and someone’s gotta fix ‘em.
Spoilers: Uh... lessee just go with season six. I can never remember episode titles.
Rating: G I think.
Notes: Uh, this is based on a challenge on Cynamin’s site, as well as being the ‘lite’ version of another story I’m working on. Also, this is cotton candy on helium. That’s right, fluff.
Feedback: Comments? Questions? Complaints? Title ideas since this one sucks? Send it all to scwlc@yahoo.ca.
The challenge:
Something happens, and Buffy writes a letter to Angel, specifically asking him to return to Sunnydale. What happens in the story from there is up to you, but I'd like a happy ending for Buffy/Angel...surprise, surprise. :)
Try and include any/all of the following things:
- The song "The Letter"
- something left behind in a motel parking lot
- furniture falling off the back of a truck (we almost lost a large bookcase on the highway...oh dear!)
- one of those little dog figures that people have in their cars. Their heads bob with movement.
- "vroom...kachunk!"
- "National Garage Sale Day" (I swear it was last Saturday)
- An ouija board
************************
The archangel dispatched to deal with the situation glared at the two guardian angels whose bungling had lead to the problem the Powers were currently faced with. “How could you not watch them?” he demanded, “They are two of The Powers’ chosen warriors and you allowed them to fall into such dire straits? No one of that level of consciousness should have to suffer what they have!”
“I’m sorry,” the younger of the two whimpered, “I had no notion that the curse would be impermanent, and-”
He focussed his furious gaze upon her and said, “You are a higher power than the gypsies. It ought to be child’s play to inspect their work and shore it up if necessary.” He rounded on the other, “As for you, the simple fact that you allowed the Oracles, who are neutral within the game no matter what they pretend, to trick the vampire into giving up his humanity when there was no need is simply unutterable laxness.”
He returned to his fury to it’s original impartiality and said, “Because of your mistakes in dealing with this situation, The Powers have been forced to intervene on a direct level to undo the damage wrought by the Powers of Darkness.”
There was a pause, then the younger spoke again, “What can we do to fix it?”
“There is nothing you can do. You will return to Sanctuary at once to receive your punishments while I deal with this . . . Situation.” The archangel’s face showed disdain for the word he used, as though he wished to use another but was prevented from doing so.
The two guardian angels bowed their heads in acquiescence and vanished, leaving him to contemplate how to go about his mission.
********************
Buffy woke up groaning. This was the fourteenth dream in as many days about her, Angel and triplets. All she wanted was to sleep and not have dreams inspired by the guilt of not being there to help Angel rescue the son that should have been theirs. Every night for the past two weeks she had dreamt of the two of them chatting comfortably about three babies, two girls and one boy, that lay in bassinets nearby. Every dream had also included a very steamy makeout session as well as the children.
In any event, there was no reason to dwell on her personal psychoses. She and Dawn were planning on moving out of their home soon, and today they had to set up a garage sale to get rid of many years of junk accumulated in the basement, as well as hopefully get enough money for them to pay for cable at the new place.
“Dawn!” she called as she hurried downstairs, “Are you up?”
Her sister appeared from the kitchen as Buffy cast one final look over the collected junk they had to get rid of. “Geez Buffy, don’t spaz out. I got up when you started to moan Angel’s name in your sleep. S’not like I want to listen to my sister have nasty dreams about her ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh God. I was making noises?” Buffy reddened then said, “No wait. I don’t wanna know.” She practically shoved Dawn toward the door, “C’mon, we’ve got tables to set up, posters to post, prices to set, and neighbours to sucker into buying our crap.”
Dawn rolled her eyes, “You know that the Birkoffs, Geoffries, Smythes, DeSalvos and DuPonts are all having garage sales today too. They’re gonna be too busy trying to get us to buy their crap to buy ours.”
“Dawn!” Buffy shot her sister a look, “Don’t say that.”
The younger sister’s eyebrows shot up into her hair, “Say ‘crap?’” she blinked, “You can’t possibly expect-”
“Not that,” Buffy said irritably as they dragged tables out front to put the aforementioned crap on, “Don’t say things like that they’re not going to buy anything. Then no one will.” She paused for a moment, “But don’t say people’ll buy everything either. Then you’ll just jinx us.”
“Why don’t you eat breakfast,” Dawn suggested kindly to her older sister, “I can see Xander coming down the street now. He’ll help me with the tables while you go start pretending to be sane again.”
Buffy, who did indeed look a tad on the several-somethings-short-of-a-complete-set side wandered back inside as Xander came up on the lawn, “How’s the Buffster?”
Dawn shrugged, “I think she’s going to need some serious tranks after this, and I’m starting to wonder about her eating habits, but other than that, fine.”
“Nyeh, she gets like this, you know that.” In companionable silence Xander and Dawn set out the tables and started to put their sale junk out on the tables. Buffy joined them carrying a hot dog smothered in shredded lettuce and blue cheese salad dressing. The other two determinedly avoided commenting on Buffy’s choice of foods in favour of gently laying out Dawn’s collection of baseball hats gained from a crosscountry trip with some of Joyce Summers’ college friends.
The hats had been gained as the couple would buy them as souvenirs then promptly forget them in the parking lot of whatever motel they had been staying at. Joyce had allowed Dawn to make it her prime activity for the length of the trip. Collecting, cleaning, organising and labelling the hats had kept the girl from going nuts as they toured the quaint little local tourist traps. The world’s largest concrete models of small woodland creatures dancing the tango, complete with costumes had been the worst stop on the trip. Dawn also had five hats with prancing chipmunks.
Tara arrived before anyone could get too caught up in memories of traumatising skunks in positions that ought to have been illegal with beavers. She shook her head briefly, “Wow,” she said, “I think today must be National Garage Sale Day, ‘cause there are yard sales for blocks in all directions.”
Her words caused Buffy to wail and sprint back into the house. Tara blinked and glanced questioningly at Dawn, who was arranging a display of those dog things people stick in the backs of their cars that nod their heads, and said, “Buffy’s worried that we’re not going to sell anything, and I think the stress is getting to her.”
Suddenly they heard a sound like a chorus of angels singing the most beautiful music ever written, and the day seemed to brighten with light that transcended simple sun. From Buffy’s room came a glow so bright they shielded their eyes as they gazed upon the radiance. Also from Buffy’s room came the somewhat muffled sounds of a creature that sounded like a member of the choir in the background, followed by Buffy yelling, as well as objects clearly thrown with the attempt to hit the humanoid standing in the window.
Then Buffy shrieked in anger and moments later shot from the house and took off down the street. Immediately after her furious ramblings had vanished into the distance the glorious light and music faded away, and the three in the street were left standing around wondering what had happened.
It was like this.
Buffy had settled comfortably in her room with her diary when all the heavenly light and music swelled into being. She stared, amazed, as an archangel appeared. “Buffy Summers, it has come to the attention of Heaven that you have been suffering needlessly.”
“Oh? Am I gonna need a Ouija board to figure this out?” Buffy raised an eyebrow as she gestured to the one in the corner, feeling somewhat less than intimidated. She had been in Heaven, had seen angels, and this was hardly impressive.
He stood in front of her window and said, “Angel was not to have left. His calling drew him to Los Angeles when it became apparent that he could not remain here without endangering many. The loss of his soul was not predicted due to unfortunate circumstances surrounding his guardian angel.”
“Yuh-huh,” Buffy replied. What else could she say?
“You were to have borne him a child and later, on the day he became human, you were to have created two more lives.” The archangel looked at her expectantly. When Buffy gave no indication of any response he continued, “The Powers have been forced to intervene due to these . . . difficulties within our ranks, and you now bear within you the three lives that were to have been born many months ago.”
Buffy felt all the blood drain out of her face and said hesitantly, “Are you saying I’m pregnant with triplets because some angels screwed up on the job?”
The archangel suppressed a wince at the accuracy of Buffy’s statement, “You would not have been bearing the boy, but for the fact that the vampire’s son died.”
Buffy’s glare was no less intimidating than that of the archangel as she said, “I’m pregnant with Angel’s dead son?” She gave the archangel no chance to respond as she began to shout and pitch everything that came to hand at him.
“YOU’RE TELLING ME (pillow) THAT WE’VE BEEN SUFFERING (textbook) BECAUSE THE POWERS (walkman) THAT BE (hand axe) CAN’T FIND DECENT (tennis ball) HELP? (pitched teddy bear) WE’VE GONE THROUGH HELL (plastic mug) AND BACK AGAIN (alarm clock) AND ALL YOU CAN DO TO FIX IT (five pencils, two pens and a ruler) IS MAKE ME PREGNANT?!?!?!” This was followed by a volley of Cosmo magazines.
The archangel attempted to placate her, “Naturally the vampire’s soul will be made permanent-”
Buffy was past listening, and gave a shriek of anger as she ran from the house leaving three perplexed mortals on the front lawn, a swerving truck which scattered its load of crummy lawn chairs purchased at the DuPont’s, and an equally puzzled archangel in her bedroom.
******************
Angel was trying to be subtle about his brooding over Connor’s death. He still couldn’t forgive Wesley even though he knew it was only a matter of time before they put the whole incident behind them in a ‘Let us never speak of this again’ sort of way. The dreams he kept having of himself and Buffy and a happy family weren’t helping him keep it a secret that he was brooding more now than ever.
He sighed and stood. If he was really lucky someone would have come along with a case and he would have a demon to beat up and kill. It would help. As he rounded the corner and walked into the lobby, Cordelia broke off her rant. Angel ignored the sudden silence that had fallen, pretending as he always did, that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said about how he was removing himself from humanity again.
He wondered how his friends would react if he treated them about their losses the same way they treated him.
“Hey Cordy,” he said casually, trying to make it appear he wasn’t irritated with her not so subtle attempts to watch him out of the corner of her eyes.
Groo gave Angel that terrifyingly cheerful and open grin that made the vampire shudder every time he saw it, “Angel! We were discussing your desire to cease being a defender of humanity. My princess believes that you are withdrawing from your quest. She claimed that your activities resembled that of a dying car.” Cordelia’s head dropped into her hands with an audible thwap.
He blinked at the both of them.
“I believe she said, ‘vroom . . . kachunk!’" Groo looked enthusiastically helpful, and Cordelia shrank further into herself in embarrassment.
“Hi Angel,” she muttered into her palms.
“I’m not Groo. Really,” he said by way of reassurance to the Pylean warrior, “I’m just trying to cope with losing Connor. That’s all.” The others joined them then, and Angel was spared convincing Cordelia to leave him alone.
********************
Buffy kept going until she reached Weatherly Park. She slowed to a walk and found a bench to sit on. The moment she sat the archangel appeared next to her. “I should apologise for the way I handled this news.”
She shot him an irritated glare, “No kidding! You screw up so I get to be pregnant?” Buffy snorted, “I suppose I’m gonna have triplets like in those dreams I’ve been having for the past two weeks.”
He glanced at her, startled, “You have had dreams of the infants?”
“Yeah.” She frowned as a thought occurred to her, “Who’s the father?”
A smile crossed his face, “If you had deigned to pay attention before you would know they were fathered by the vampire with a soul.”
Buffy blinked, “Hunh?”
“You were to have borne his child following your seventeenth birthday. With the laxness of both your guardian angels in identifying the . . . difficulty with the curse it was inadvisable for the child to be born at that time,” the archangel looked vastly uncomfortable with the exposition, “The prediction of a child born to the vampire with a soul must be fulfilled, and so the boy was carried by the vampire Darla.”
He continued looking more discomfited by the second, “Connor is needed, and his death at the hands of Holtz was the final deviation from the path laid by The Powers.”
“Ahh,” she replied. They sat in something resembling companionable silence for a couple minutes, until Buffy began to frown in confusion and asked, “So why the triplets? You’ve explained about Connor, but what about the other two?”
The archangel shifted, looking uncomfortable again, and replied, “Well, Angel was to have become human by this point in time.”
“What?” Buffy’s voice was toneless and her expression was immediately transfigured from puzzlement to anger.
He sighed, “There was a prophecy Angel was to become human once he achieved his redemption. He did, through his willingness to refuse this humanity for the greater good,” the archangel sighed again, this time in irritation, “The angel guarding him was to have prevented the erasure of the day, thus allowing him to remain mortal.”
Her jaw dropped, “Angel didn’t happen to have been changed into a human through the blood of a Mohra demon, did he?”
It was the immortal’s turn to look stunned, “How did you know? The day was erased, and only he was to have remembered.”
She smiled sadly, “I promised him I’d never forget.”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, “Anyhow, he was to have been given his mortality, as well as the skills and abilities associated with a slayer,” anger crossed his features, “Now, with the bungling of the angels assigned to the two of you, he has since managed to lose the right to that redemption, and has only just barely regained it due to reparations owed him.”
She smiled for the first time that day and asked, “So what now? I mean, I’m all knocked up, but Angel and I can’t be together because of the curse.”
“I’m to bring the news to him, then reunite the two of you with a minimum of interference,” he said.
Buffy laughed, “Minimum of interference? I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?”
“Laugh if you must, but I have no notion of how I could manage to do this with any less interference than what I used to convince and explain everything to you.” It was an odd sight, an archangel pouting as he sulked. The sight only made her laugh the harder. “What’s so funny?” he demanded in an aggrieved tone.
“I never thought I’d get to see an angel pout,” Buffy gasped out between giggles. “That’s something to write home about.” She abruptly stopped chortling and a look of revelation came over her face. “A letter! That’s it!”
He glanced at her in bafflement, “What does a letter have to do with anything?”
“Don’t you see? It’ll let you get the information to him with minimal interference, and it’ll let me be the one to give him the news,” she shrugged, “And really, there is no way to minimise the interference so far as making him human, so you just do it when he finishes reading.” Buffy grinned happily. “I’ll go home right now and write that letter, and you can deliver it.”
“You are a wonderfully clever woman,” he responded.
So they hurried back to Buffy’s, bypassing her friends through the use of a little heavenly whammy, and she wrote the letter. As she handed it to the messenger archangel she said, “Thank you. I don’t suppose you have a name do you?”
He smiled at her and said, “You already know my name.”
Buffy took in the laughing face of the archangel and began to laugh, and was still laughing when the whammy wore off with his departure and her friends came thundering up the stairs to find out if she was okay.
*********************
Fred had ducked out to pick up the mail, and handed Angel the envelope without really looking at it. If she had, she would have noticed that it had no postage and no return address.
Angel looked in surprise at this envelope that was addressed in his ex-girlfriend’s handwriting, and almost didn’t open it. The last thing he needed right now was to hear about her new lover, condolences on losing Connor, or even an unburdening of her soul.
Still it was contact, however distant, with her and Angel slowly reached out and tore it open and unfolded the piece of paper within.
Dear Angel,
The most amazing thing happened today. I was visited by an archangel who said that there had been some mistakes made up in heaven. That day around Thanksgiving that never happened was supposed to be that shanshu you didn’t tell me about. (Yeah, I’m kinda pissed you didn’t see fit to tell me about that)
Anyways, I was supposed to have had your children, twin girls, conceived that day. So, to fix the big mess up, I’m pregnant. With triplets. Yeah, I know, why are there three if we were only supposed to have two. Thing is, the third one is Connor. He was supposed to have been ours as well.
Angel, I know I haven’t always been there for you the way I could have been, and we’ve got all sorts of issues to work through. But the thing is, I still love you. I can’t stop, I don’t want to stop, and things have been horrible since you left. I still think about you all the time, and I miss you more and more every day. Look at this, I’m writing in cliches.
The point is, I need you. No, make that we. We need you Angel. You’ve got a son and two daughters who are going to be here in eight months, and I don’t think I can do this without you. I also can’t live without the love of my life (you) much longer.
Come home. Please.
Your girl always,
Buffy
PS How’s it feel to be human?
Angel frowned in puzzlement as her read the post script, then found his knees buckling, and he slid to the floor with a thump. The sudden noise got the attention of his friends, who rushed into the office and started helping Angel to the couch in the lobby. They were halfway there when Angel remembered how to breathe and pulled away from them.
“Angel where are you going?”
“Yo man, what’s wrong?”
“Angel? You okay?”
The babble of voices barely gave Angel pause as he ran for the door and into the sunlight. That elicited a chorus of horrified shouts until they realised he was unharmed by the sun. He ignored them and vaulted into his car and started the drive for Sunnydale.
Gunn summed up all their thoughts, “Okay, what just happened?”
*********************
*Give me a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain't got time to take a fast train*
Angel was driving as fast as he could, just praying he didn’t run into any police. He couldn’t take a delay. Not now. He was too close to having all his dreams come true. If there had been some quicker way to get to Buffy he would have taken it.
*Lonely days are gone
I'm a goin' home*
He pulled up in front of her house two and a half hours later, and rushed inside, ignoring the looks Buffy friends were giving him. She was sitting on the couch, and he threw himself across the room at her, pulling her against him, sobbing with the sheer joy of the reunion. It wasn’t until he had her in his arms that the whole thing felt real.
“Oh God! Buffy! I love you!” He was sobbing and babbling incoherently. She just wrapped her arms around him and made everything fall away except for the two of them.
“I love you. Promise you’ll never go?”
“Never.”
The pair curled together on the couch, and Buffy’s friends filed from the house, realising they were intruding on a very private moment.
*My baby just wrote me a letter*
*********************
In heaven, the archangel took on his preferred form for relaxation. He had once been a human soul, but his potential had won him a place in one of the highest orders of heavenly immortals. His black t-shirt, red long sleeved shirt, black jeans and duster contrasted highly with his bleached hair. After all, his demonic counterpart may have been evil, but he also had exceeding good taste.
The End
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