Consistently Stoic

Summary: When the Scoobies run out of options to keep their Slayer alive, they devise a plan for Angel to turn Buffy into a vampire.

Disclaimer: Nope, nobody's mine--except for Savannah, but she won't come in until much, much later. (Yeah, aren't you intrigued) Anyway, everything else belongs to important, grown-up people like Joss Whedon.

AN: This is pretty much AU from the start, but lets just say it begins at the beginning of season seven of Buffy (Buffy knows Spike has a soul) and four of Angel (Angel has come back from the big box in the ocean dilema). Although, it really becomes its own animal from that point.

AN: It's not beta-ed, so it's probably filed with errors. If anyone would like to beta for me, please, by all means. It will eventually be an epic...I know where I'm going with it. It's just a matter of writting it all down with lovely, intense words. Anyway, I'm still pretty new at this so please R&R.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but Angel could smell its presence more than ever before. His hand had formed a fist and then loosened, as he tried to contain the power he felt from drinking the Slayer.

Buffy was still unconscious, but she looked better than she had. Her fever had broken; her cough was gone; her lips even had some color.

Well, not color.

He walked over to Buffy on his bed. Her eyes were closed, but only lightly. She looked like she was sleeping.

Angel used to watch her sleep years ago--back when she was in high school. She would come to his mansion and vent to him about school, and slaying, and her mother. And then she would fall asleep to the sound of his voice reading his novel of choice to her.

And now that would be their life again. Neither of them had any choice.

Instinctively, Angel listened carefully for the gentle rise and fall of Buffy's breathing…and then he remembered. She wasn't breathing.

She was dead.

Buffy's still corpse was lying quietly on his bed. She wasn't sleeping…she was dead.

The phone rang pungently through Angel's grief, and he automatically picked it up to stop the sound. The back of his mind seemed to tell him it would wake Buffy. "Hello," he delivered smoothly into the phone, as if nothing had happened.

"Hello," Giles's voice met his own, "Angel? I-Is it done?"

Done. It's done. His Slayer's dead. "Yeah, Giles. I--I did it--It's done."

"Has she awoken?" the question was hardly a whisper, only picked up by Angel's enhanced sense of hearing.

"Not yet." The shame he felt saying that didn't show through at all. He remained very stern and business-like. "I--I think she'll be fine."

After a long pause, he responded, "Yes. How--How long until she w-wakes?"

"A few hours, probably."


Moments of terribly horrifying silence loomed in the air between them.

"Well, uh, do call me when she…she wakes…"

"I will."

Angel had a feeling he was in shock. How else could he be talking to Giles about killing his Slayer like this without any emotion in his voice?

"G-Good. Uh…tell her…" Giles swallowed hard, feeling every inch of scratchy dry skin ache with the pain of his Slayer's demise as he did. "Tell her we all love her. That we'll never stop."

"I will," Angel repeated.

"Are you sure she'll have her soul?"

"I-I think so…" That was his biggest fear. What if Buffy didn't keep her soul?

Legend had it that a Slayer's soul is just so pure that she would keep it if she ever entered the legions of the undead, but as far as Angel knew, it was just that--a legend.

"Well, if she's not, be-be sure to…" That, the Watcher couldn't speak of. He couldn't form the words to tell the vampire who loved his charge to put a wooden stake through her heart.

"…I will…" he said for the third time.

"Well…alright…I-I suppose I'll be hearing from you soon."


"Right. Goodbye, then."


Angel hung up the phone, awed by Giles' ever-polite, British voice. He knew more than anything that Giles would have loved to take out all his angers on him. Tell him what he was really feeling. Express how hurt he was that this had to happen in such a tragic, mortifying way.

He glanced once again at his sleeping Childe. …His new Childe.

She would be terribly hurt…and shocked…and ashamed. Ashamed more than anything else, Angel guessed. Ashamed, that Buffy Summers--one of the most prestigious and well-respected vampire Slayers in history, would now be a member of the Order of Aurelias--one of the most prestigious and well-respected vampire families in history.

But Giles was right; she still had people who loved her…human people. Her life wouldn't really be that different.

Yes, it will be.

No matter how many times Angel denied it to himself, he knew Buffy would not take the minor solace that was available to her. She would want to die--soul or no soul.

But it was Angel's job, as sire, lover, and friend, to help her through this time. They would be together forever now; they had to be everything for one another.

The sun was showing its glaring face now; Angel could smell it. Bright and happy and warm…

…she would miss the human things. She would miss her heart. She would miss the sun. She would miss food. She would miss the beach. She would miss tanning. She would miss dating. She would miss the heat of sex. She would miss everything.

A shiver went down his spine slowly at the thought of how hard it would be for her to give up being human cold turkey.

She would now have to live off of pig's blood, like him. And never see her friends in day light, or taste chocolate, or see her reflection.

It's not fair. He put a frustrated hand to his forehead. Angel's eyes filled with gentle, accepted tears, and he ran a hand over Buffy's face. Her beautiful, peaceful, still face.

She would hate him. She would blame him. She would never forgive him.

The sun was up, officially. Students were going to school; their parents leaving for work.


Silently, he thanked God that Buffy's mother was not alive. She would be heartbroken. He cocked his head to the side to look at her for just one moment more. Maybe he should just stake her now and tell Giles she lost her soul.

No. Who was he kidding? He couldn't.

Buffy had a few hours before waking, and Angel was tired from the emotional marathon he had been through. He let out a long sigh, and choked back a flood of tears. "Oh, God, my sweet Buffy," he smiled, feeling all the pain he could, and wanted to embrace her more than ever before.

Giving in to his simple desire to hold her, Angel climbed delicately into his bed with Buffy and wrapped his arms around her waist. He inhaled her blood's scabbing scent and laid his head in the crevice between her head and neck. The tears that came out of his eyes were now so numerous that he could not see through them, so he closed his eyes and let the utter silence of Buffy's existence lull him to sleep.