Part Nine
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Buffy was late. Juggling the bags she had brought, she reached for the door to Angel Investigations. It was locked.
She frowned. Since the first couple of days that she had been making the trip to Angel's she had never found the door locked. No matter how early she arrived, it was always open. Angel was always sitting in one of the office chairs waiting for her. Today Buffy was late, having gone to buy groceries first, and the locked door concerned her.
Placing her bags on the ground, Buffy fished for the spare key Cordelia had given her. It slipped easily into the lock and the door opened with a gentle push. Lifting her grocery bags again, she entered the faintly lit office. No one was there.
"Hello?" she called, kicking the door shut behind her. "Angel?"
There was no response. *He must have slept late,* Buffy told herself, but she was still worried. She put the bags down in the elevator and descended into the basement apartment.
It was completely dark. Fumbling for a light switch, Buffy called out again. "Angel?" Again, there was no response.
Buffy's stomach twisted with worry as she put the bags on the kitchen table. As she took a deep breath to calm herself, she finally heard a noise other than the panicked beating of her own heart. It was a barest whisper, incoherent, coming from the direction of Angel's bedroom. That was followed by a sharp, terrified cry.
Fearing that something had come to attack Angel in his sleep, she dashed into his bedroom. Angel was still asleep, tangled in the bedcovers. He was tossing slightly and what Buffy could see of him was covered in sweat. He was mumbling something Buffy could not understand. She had no trouble deciphering his occasional panicked cries and the look of fear on his face.
Nightmare.
Buffy was at his side in an instant. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she seized his bare shoulders in her hands. "Angel!" she cried loudly. He thrashed in his sleep, trying to get away from her. She let go, not wanting to make his nightmare worse. "Angel, wake up!"
He sat up suddenly, the blankets falling to his waist. His eyes were wide with panic and he was breathing heavily. A final cry died in his throat.
"Shh," Buffy whispered as if placating a small child. "It's all right." She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It was just a nightmare."
Suddenly he clasped her in a fierce hug. His breath came in relieved sobs that made him shake. Buffy held him tightly to her, her hand moving gently on his back until his fear subsided.
Angel pulled away eventually and looked at Buffy a bit sheepishly. "Sorry," he muttered.
"It's alright," Buffy replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nightmare?" she asked.
Angel nodded but would not meet her eye.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Buffy prompted.
"I'd rather not," Angel said quickly. He shrugged out of her grip and slipped from the bed.
Buffy watched as he busied himself pulling clothes for the day out of the closet. Something was wrong. "Have you had these nightmares before?" She could see the muscles of his back tense but he said nothing. He just stopped mid-motion of putting on his shirt. Buffy stood quickly and went to his side. She felt him trembling slightly when she touched his arm. "I want to help," she said. "I can't help if you won't tell me."
Angel sighed. The release of air made him seem smaller. "Every night," he whispered.
"Angel!" Buffy said sharply. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Angel shrugged. "Couldn't," he whispered.
"Of course you could!" Buffy replied. "You can tell me anything," she continued in a softer tone.
"Could I?" Angel asked a bit sharply. She could see the fear still lurking in his eyes. This nightmare had really shaken him. "Do you really want to know?"
"I do," Buffy said firmly. She knew what it was like to have nightmares night after night.
Angel finally met her eyes and saw the sincerity and concern within them. He sat dwn wearily on the edge of the bed. "Where do you want me to start?" he whispered, sounding defeated.
Buffy sat next to him easily. "Why don't you start with what you dreamed last night?"
He looked at her blankly, then stared straight ahead and began his tale. "There was a girl," he began slowly, "a young woman, wearing a long blue dress. It was…old fashioned. We were outside and it was nighttime; very dark out…and I remember the air was damp like it might start raining any minute. The girl…one minute she was smiling, and the next she got this horrified look on her face. I … the dream me … loved that, because I was the one that terrified her. She began screaming…" Angel shifted uncomfortably and his gaze drifted to his lap. "I…bit her neck. I tasted her blood."
"You killed her," Buffy said in sudden understanding.
"Yes," Angel whispered. He dd not raise his gaze.
Buffy sighed softly. Memory…it had to be memory, disguised as a dream. Angel had no clue of that. The second day that Buffy had visited she, Wesley, and Cordelia had a long discussion about what they should and should not tell him. His memories, they decided, would have to come again on their own, or with Buffy's presence as the prophecies said they would. As far as vampires and demons went, they would only tell him what was necessary for their own safety.
Thus far, that was nothing.
Angel finally returned his gaze to Buffy. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Buffy answered with a question of her own. "You've been dreaming that every night?"
Angel shook his head. "Not exactly. Similar dreams, though." He said that as if to make her feel better.
"How long have you been having these dreams?"
Angel shrugged, indicating that he didn't know. Probably, then, as long as he'd been back. Buffy wondered at that. She'd have to talk to Wesley, but it sounded like his memories weren't actually gone, simply blocked instead. Only when he was asleep did they appear.
So many terrible years…
Angel looked at Buffy seriously. "You know something, don't you?"
Buffy bit her lip. "I'm not sure," she replied. Before Angel could look at her suspiciously she rose from the bed. "Enough of this talk. How about some breakfast to get your mind off of this?"
Angel came along without a protest.
***
When Cordelia and Wesley arrived a bit later in the morning, Buffy and Angel were hanging out in the kitchen. Angel was sitting in a chair, leaning back and watching Buffy with a small smile on his face. Buffy was putting most of the food she had bought that morning into a backpack.
"What are you doing?" Cordelia asked from the bottom of the stairs, Wesley standing just behind her.
Buffy looked up and grinned. "Good morning, Cordelia," she said. She sounded just a bit like one of the orphans in _Annie_ greeting Miss Hanigan.
"Good morning," Angel said softly as well a beat behind her.
Wesley came into the kitchen a second later. "I trust you both slept well?" he said by way of greeting.
Angel frowned and Buffy grimaced. "Let's not talk about that," she said. Wesley opened his mouth to speak again when Buffy snapped, "Later, okay?" At the look of hurt in the ex-Watcher's face, Buffy softened. "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean it like that."
"Yes, well…" Wesley swallowed. "I was merely going to reiterate Cordelia's question," he said.
Buffy looked blankly at Cordelia. "I'm sorry. You had a question?"
Cordelia gave a long-suffering sigh. "I asked what you were doing," she said, gesturing at the mostly packed bag.
"Oh!" Buffy glanced briefly at Angel and broke into a grin. "We're going on a picnic," she declared happily.
Wesley paled. "Are you sure that's the best idea?" he asked.
Buffy frowned at him. "Oh, come on!" she said, slightly angry. "Aren't you sick of being closed in here all the time? It's about time Angel got to have some fun. Besides," she grinned again, "I want to see what he looks like with a suntan."
Cordelia chuckled.
Wesley frowned at them both. "You are forgetting," he said sternly, "that the police are looking for him. I simply don't think…"
"You're right; you don't!" Buffy interrupted him loudly. "Do you really think the police are *really* looking for him? That's just words. Besides, they think he's dead! They are not going to go out of their way looking for a dead man wanted for some piddly crime!" She took a deep breath. "I almost wish they would," she said, her voice deadly quiet. "I've got a lot to get back at them for."
The room went dead silent in the wake of her pronouncement.
"Uh, I'm confused."
All eyes went to Angel, seemingly having forgotten he was there. The three of them shifted uncomfortably and would not look at him.
Angel looked at them all in turn. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked very softly.
Buffy slowly sank into the chair beside him. Ignoring the looks both Cordelia and Wesley were giving her, she sighed. "You made some enemies…or, one enemy, actually…in the police department."
Angel looked thoughtful. "How? What did I do?"
"You helped a wanted murderer," Buffy said after a moment, slowly and without emotion.
Angel winced.
"Mostly, she just doesn't like you," Cordelia chimed in.
Now Angel looked even more confused, if that was possible. "What? Who?"
"Cop lady," Cordelia explained. "Kate."
"Oh," Angel said, though he looked just as confused as before. "And they think I'm dead? The police?"
Cordelia and Wesley came and sat at the table as well. "Not the police, actually," Wesley began. "They believe you escaped. Kate believes you are dead."
"But she's the only one that really wanted you captured," Cordelia added quickly.
Angel looked thoughtfully between the three of them. "And this person I helped?" he prompted.
It was Buffy who answered this time. "You…felt she deserved a second chance," she said slowly. She sighed. "She was a friend once."
Both Cordelia and Wesley looked surprised at this admission, but Angel did not notice. "And this is why you did not want me leaving here?" he asked them.
Wesley nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "But now I feel that Buffy is right."
"I am?" Buffy asked in surprise. Then she grinned. "Of course I am." She looked at Wesley. "Do you want to come with us?"
Wesley shook his head. "No…Cordelia and I will mind the office. You two…have a good time."
Cordelia stood and grinned. "Get a suntan for me," she said to Angel. "The never-seen-the-sunlight look is so out."
Angel's confused look disappeared to be replaced with a grin.
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Part Ten
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Buffy and Angel were holding hands as they walked along the pier. They hadn't even realized they'd done it. Or, at least, Buffy didn't seem to notice. Angel was very much aware of her small hand in his. Though it was a surprise, it felt right, so he did not mention it.
They had happily eaten the picnic Buffy had brought on the edge of the sand. Though few words were exchanged, they were both content in each other's company. Now, still silent, they walked along the sunlit pier.
It was wonderful to be outside, Angel decided. They had been confined in the two-story apartment and office for far too long. Though when he'd first stepped into the sunlight he'd had to squint until a headache passed, now he reveled in the feeling of it on his skin. It felt nice…different…
Angel looked up suddenly, feeling Buffy's eyes on him. She was watching him, he realized, and he could not begin to decipher the look on her face. "What?" he asked softly, breaking the silence between them.
Buffy jumped in surprise, her hand pulling away suddenly. "Huh?" she asked.
Though he missed the contact between them, Angel made no move to take Buffy's hand again. "You were staring," he said softly.
"I was?" Buffy asked in surprise.
Angel nodded.
"I'm sorry." Buffy quite purposefully looked away from him, staring at the expanse of beach and water.
"I didn't say I minded," Angel muttered. "I was just…surprised."
Buffy looked at him, startled. "It's just…nice. To be outside, you know?" She looked away again quickly. "I like seeing you in the sunlight," she said very softly.
Angel couldn't help but stare at her while she was looking the other way. The sun was turning her hair into strands of gold. She seemed to gather the sunlight around her until she glowed. "I like seeing you in the sunlight, too" Angel whispered back.
Buffy spun to face him again. They were suddenly only centimeters apart. Buffy's eyes were very wide, the sunlight making them sparkle. Angel's breath caught in his throat. "Have we been here before?" he asked huskily.
"What?" Buffy asked, blinking at him. She came out of her daze slowly and stepped back. "I mean…what?"
Angel swallowed as she took a step back. "You…me…I think…" He blinked. He cleared his throat again and his voice took on an urgent tone. "Buffy, have we been here before?"
Buffy looked at him oddly. Perhaps she saw something in his eyes, for she answered him seriously, "No, Angel, we've never been here before. Not together, at least."
"Oh." Angel looked down at his feet, uncomfortable under Buffy's intense gaze. He could see this place in his mind's eye. He could see Buffy's startled gaze as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately…right there, only a couple of paces down the pier. Seeing as how she would barely hold his hand, though, he must have been mistaken. Maybe it was simply the memory of a dream.
"What is it?" Buffy asked, concerned.
Angel shifted slightly, disturbed. He hated his lack of memory. Especially in moments like this, when he didn't know where he stood with Buffy. But he couldn't tell her how he saw her, even in his dreams, without knowing that. "Nothing," he replied softly, not looking at her.
Buffy ducked into his line of sight, forcing him to look at her. "It's not nothing, obviously. You're a terrible liar," she tried to tease.
Still Angel said nothing. Instead he began to walk along the pier again.
"Don't do that," Buffy said quickly. "Don't shut me out. Please, tell me what's wrong."
Angel stopped and sighed. "It's just…I thought…"
"Was it memory?" Buffy asked suddenly.
"I thought it was," Angel said after a moment. "I hoped… I saw the two of us, on a beautiful, sunny day like today, kissing right here." He waited apprehensively for Buffy's response.
"I'm sorry," she said after a moment. Her voice was filled with regret. "That…never happened." She sighed. "That couldn't have happened," she added to herself, obviously not meaning for Angel to hear. She was moving away from him again.
"Why not?" Angel asked quickly. "Why couldn't that have happened?"
As he expected, Buffy gave no reply. She simply looked at him and walked on.
***
When Cordelia came back to the office to check on Angel that evening, she was surprised to find Buffy still there. She was sitting in one of the office chairs, looking down with her head in her hands.
"Are you all right?" Cordelia asked gently.
Buffy jumped in surprise. When she saw who it was, she relaxed considerably. "Cordy," she said in greeting.
"I didn't mean to startle you," Cordelia said quickly. She was surprised that she'd managed to startle Buffy at all.
Buffy sighed. "It was my fault. I was…thinking."
"Should I leave you to your difficult task, then?" Cordelia asked. Buffy glared at her. "I'm sorry. That was unnecessary." She looked around the office, uncertain of how to proceed. "So, how did your picnic go?" she asked at last.
Buffy did not answer at first. She looked down at her hands, then back at Cordelia. "Did you know that Angel's been having dreams?" she asked suddenly.
Cordelia just looked at her, confused at the change in subject. "Most people do," she replied. The look on Buffy's face said there was more to it than that. She sat on the edge of the desk next to Buffy. "What sort of dreams?"
"Nightmares," Buffy said with a sigh. She looked up at Cordelia pointedly. "Memories, I'm pretty sure."
Cordelia swallowed. "Does he know?" she asked.
Buffy shook her head. "He thinks they're just nightmares. And I couldn't tell him otherwise. How could I tell him that he really has killed more people than I could ever care to count?" She shuddered.
Cordelia said nothing in response and Buffy sighed again. "And worse, today he thought he remembered something."
Cordelia looked at her in confusion. "How is that worse?"
"Because it wasn't real," Buffy said sadly.
"Oh." Cordelia could understand her disappointment; she felt it, too. "What did he think he remembered?"
Buffy thought for a second. "he thought we'd been there before. Him, me, sunlight…" She looked at Cordelia for a second, daring her to see how ludicrous it was.
At first Cordelia was nodding along with her, then she stopped abruptly as a thought struck. "I don't know how to say this, but I sort of have to since Angel can't…" she began slowly.
"What is it?"
Cordelia swallowed. "There is a…slight possibility that it was a memory."
"Cordelia…"
"I know it sounds ridiculous," Cordelia said defensively, "and it really should be Angel who tells you since it's his mess, but he can't. I don't even know the whole story! So you have to forgive me for leaving out details." She made a face. "So glad I don't know the details…" she muttered.
Buffy was looking at her with a worried expression. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this story?" she asked.
"I have no idea," Cordelia muttered sarcastically. "You remember when you came here right after Thanksgiving?"
"Yes," Buffy said slowly, wondering where this was going.
"Well, apparently there were two versions of that day. The first one only Angel remembers…or would remember if he could remember anything. The rest of us just remember the rewrite," Cordelia tried to explain.
"I am now horribly confused," Buffy muttered.
"So am I," Cordelia said.
"But you're saying this could have been the memory of a day that only Angel remembers?" Cordelia nodded. "Us, together in the sunlight?" Buffy's breath stuck in her throat.
"It's possible," Cordelia acknowledged.
"No, it's not, remember?" Buffy said loudly. "What aren't you telling me?"
Cordelia sighed. "I told you; I don't know much. I don't know all of the hows and whys. I just know that somehow in that day Angel became human. And I know that for some reason he got the day started over so that it never happened."
Buffy sat back in the chair, stunned to speechlessness.
***
Contrary to what he'd said he was doing when he descended into the apartment, Angel was not resting. It was too hard to rest when the mind would not still. He kept seeing the same image from this afternoon - Buffy and himself, standing on the pier, locked in a passionate kiss. The more he thought about it, the more real it became until he could taste her lips and feel the warmth of the sunlight.
But it wasn't real. The blurring of the line between the fanciful and the real was beginning to scare him. He so wanted his memories to return, but maybe he was trying to hard. Maybe he was creating false memories instead.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled Angel from his thoughts. He stood up quickly, looking to see who it was. He watched as Buffy descended slowly, a troubled expression on her face.
"What's wrong?" Angel asked hurriedly, forgetting his own concerns.
Buffy proceeded the rest of the way down the stairs before she spoke. She stopped and slowly met Angel's gaze. "We need to talk," she said softly.
Angel nodded. "We do," he acknowledged. Buffy sighed and nodded to herself, then opened her mouth to speak. Angel stopped her. "Wait."
"What?" Buffy asked, looking even more troubled.
"I need to ask you something first," Angel said, trying to sound more certain than he felt.
Buffy's expression was slightly wary, but she nodded. "Alright."
Angel swallowed. He needed to know this one thing, and his memories didn't seem to be exactly forthcoming. But to just ask… "Were we…involved…before?"
Buffy was obviously uncomfortable and would not meet his gaze. "Angel…" she muttered.
"Please, Buffy," Angel said strongly. "I need the truth."
Buffy sighed and looked him straight in the eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "We were involved. On and off for nearly three years, actually, until about a year ago."
"Oh," Angel whispered, unable to think of more of a response. He stepped back from Buffy and lowered himself back into his chair. He rested his hands on his knees and did not speak.
"You don't seem surprised," Buffy said after a moment.
Angel thought for a second. "I'm not," he explained. "Not really. It feels right."
Buffy nodded to herself. "Yeah," she whispered. "It often did."
"But not always?" Angel asked, not looking at her.
"But not always," Buffy acknowledged.
Neither of them said anything after that. For Buffy, there was nothing else to say. For Angel, he knew that any other discussion on the subject would have to wait, preferably until he got his memories back. *If* he got his memories back. That brought Angel back to his darker thoughts from earlier, and he turned to Buffy to think about something else. "You said we had something to talk about," Angel reminded her.
"Oh," Buffy said. "That's right, I did."
When she didn't say anything, Angel looked at her pointedly. "What is it?"
Buffy bit her lip. "It's about…what you remembered at the beach today. What I said never happened."
"Yes," Angel said reluctantly. Just what he'd tried not to think about.
"I…I shouldn't have said that," Buffy said uncertainly. "It…I may… That is, you may have been right."
"What?" Angel asked, confused.
Buffy sat in the other chair and looked at the ceiling. "I was speaking with Cordelia," she said. "Very short version, there's a day that was erased that only you carry the memories of. What you thought you remembered may have been from that day."
"But I don't carry the memories of that *day*!" Angel protested. "I don't carry the memories of any day. At least, not before…"
"Angel," Buffy interrupted him firmly, sitting forward and staring him in the eyes, "you do carry those memories. Those memories and many more. They'll return to you in time."
"But how do you know?" Angel said back, trying to hide the terrified, uncertain feelings behind it.
Buffy smiled *very* slightly. "I know," she said.
Angel looked at her suspiciously. Part of him was sure she was only saying this for comfort's sake. Another part of him took any hope that was offered, but wondered at the source. "Does this have anything to do with my dreams?" he asked, slightly frightened at the prospect.
"Some," Buffy answered, seeming to watch him closely for a reaction.
Angel flinched. The images of blood and death flashed through his mind again. "How could that…" He left the sentence hanging.
"It's a strange world we live in," Buffy said calmly. "Until you remember more on your own, I can't tell you more. It's too hard."
"On who?" Angel demanded.
"On both of us," Buffy replied firmly. "I'm not ready to tell you, and I don't think you're ready to handle it."
"Ready?" Angel asked, his voice rising. "What if I'm never ready? What if my memories never return?"
"But they will," she affirmed. "You have to trust in that."
"How can I?" Angel demanded. "How can I trust in that when the only thing I've thought I remembered never happened? No one can tell me for sure if what I think is true, because it's all part of some 'erased' day." He paused then, his own words registering. "*Erased* day?"
Buffy couldn't help but smile slightly at that. "I told you - it's a strange world we live in." her smile faded after a moment and she looked at him intently. "Would it make you feel better if I made you a promise?" she asked.
"What sort of promise?"
She thought for a second. "If your memory is not making an obvious improvement by the time I have to return to school, I will tell you everything I can."
Angel sighed. Part of him wanted to know everything right now. But maybe there was a reason he didn't remember. Maybe Buffy was right and he wouldn't be able to handle it right now. "I would like that," he said at last.
Buffy smiled. "Then that's a deal."
"Wait."
"Hmm?"
"One more thing," Angel pressed. "If I have questions - not big 'tell-me-everything' questions, but yes-or-no questions or little things, would you try and answer them honestly for me?"
Buffy clearly thought that over for a second. "Do I have the right to tell you there are certain questions I can't answer?"
Angel nodded.
She smiled reassuringly at him. "It sounds like we have a plan."
Angel smiled back, suddenly feeling incredibly relieved. "Yeah," he agreed, "I think we do."
---------------------------------------------
Part Eleven
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"You mean we've never done this before?"
Buffy grinned at Angel's befuddled question. "Nope, never."
Angel took a second to think about that. "We were involved, as you say, on and off for three years and we never went to dinner and a movie together?"
"Movie, yes," she replied, taking another bite of her meal. "Out to dinner, no."
After a second, Angel spoke again. "Why?" he asked simply. When Buffy did not immediately respond, he added, "Or is that one of those questions you can't answer?"
Buffy ate slowly to give herself time to think of an appropriate answer. "There are…some parts of the reason we never went out to dinner together that I can't explain," she said. "I can say that we were never conventional date sort of people."
Angel stopped eating abruptly and looked at her. "Is that what this is, then? A date?"
Her food stuck in her throat. "Angel, I…"
He waved it off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He broke their gaze and wiped his hands on his napkin in a nervous gesture.
Buffy felt awful. Giving Angel her best reassuring smile she said, "I've had a great time tonight so far."
Angel's return smile was half-hearted at best. "So have I," he replied.
That just made Buffy feel worse. Ever since their trip to the beach, their 'let's get together and have a good time' outings had been getting more and more date-like. Buffy just couldn't bring herself to think of them that way, though. It was not that she didn't love Angel; part of her always did. The more time she spent around Angel, amnesia or no, the stronger her feelings for him got.
He'd changed slightly with the loss of memory. For one thing, his general mood seemed lighter. He hadn't lost his ability to brood, but it didn't have the weight of centuries behind it anymore. He also was frequently uncertain, and carried with him a charming sort of innocence.
Yes, she loved him more every day. And though he said nothing, she knew he loved her, too. He was terrible at hiding his feelings; something else that had changed.
And that terrified her, seeing that he loved her so clearly. Because she didn't deserve it, not anymore. She was terrified with Angel's memories looming on the horizon that he'd remember her role in his death and hate her for it. Not only that, but that he'd hate her for being with him through the summer months when he'd rather never see her again.
So she did her best to keep her distance. Not her physical distance, of course, since he needed her there, but her emotional distance. Yet every time she pulled away, she saw the hurt clearly in Angel's expression. That just made her feel terrible.
There was no good solution to this situation.
The rest of the meal was shared in relative silence, and the couple of bites Buffy managed to force down were heavy in her stomach.
Angel insisted on paying the check, unintentionally increasing the date-like atmosphere of the evening. There was nothing that could be done about it, though, as Buffy had very little money. He may not have been able to do much work in the last two months, but Angel was still the one with a job.
Buffy did not look at Angel as they exited the restaurant. With any luck she could get away with not saying anything all the way through the movie. This was not the way she'd planned for this evening to go. She stared down at her feet as they walked.
"Buffy, I'm sorry," Angel began, trying to draw her attention.
Buffy just nodded to herself. "I know," she mumbled.
"I really shouldn't have said anything," Angel said, only half to her. "I just…it's…"
They were too distracted by each other and their feelings to have any inkling of the attack before it came. One moment Buffy was looking at the pavement in between her feet, and the next moment she was tasting it. A moment later she felt a sharp pain at the back of her skull, and then….
***
It was cold and damp and Angel ached all over. The ground beneath him was hard and there was a significant weight pressed against his left side. He opened his eyes and for a moment couldn't see anything. This could not be a good thing.
There was nothing wrong with his vision. He was simply trapped in total darkness the likes of which he had never seen. Even as his eyes adjusted he could see nothing. He could feel, though. He could feel that the floor beneath him was concrete. He could feel that the weight against his side was alive. "Buffy?" he queried, his voice very loud in the darkness.
She shifted against him with a moan as she stirred. "Angel?" she whispered.
"Right here," he whispered back, giving her a gentle squeeze around her shoulders. Right now he needed to be reassured of her presence just as much as she needed his.
She relaxed against him. "Did you get the name of that truck?" she muttered.
If it had been under less dire circumstances, he might have laughed. As it was, he turned towards Buffy in concern even though he could not see her. "Are you alright?"
"I will be," came Buffy's reply. "I wish they hadn't hit me so hard, though."
Angel was amazed at her light tone. "Who were they?" he asked.
Angel could feel Buffy's shrug in response. "This is your town," he explained. "You have a better chance at knowing them than I do."
"In other words, no chance at all," Angel muttered.
Buffy pulled away from him slightly. "Now is not the time for brooding," she scolded him. "Cheer up!"
"Cheer up?" Angel asked in shock. "We've been abducted off the street and locked up who-knows-where and you want me to cheer up?!"
"What else can you do?" Buffy replied simply. "I've been in bad situations before. So have you. Brooding about them never did any good."
Angel leaned back against the cold stone. "I've been in bad situations before? Situations like this?"
Buffy was silent for a long moment. "Exactly like this? I'm not sure. But some pretty bad situations. Some *very* bad situations."
"Captured and imprisoned?" Angel asked after a moment, completely shocked at the idea.
Buffy paused again. "Yes," she said reluctantly.
Angel shivered. Captured, cold, afraid…he'd been in situations like this before? It felt so alien to him. "What aren't you telling me?" he whispered.
"Angel, I can't…" Buffy began helplessly.
"Don't say that!" Angel suddenly yelled in frustration. "You keep telling me that there are things you can't tell me, and I thought I understood that. But, Buffy, I can't take these partial explanations and half-truths anymore! You tell me I'm wanted by the police for helping a murderer. You tell me that I've made enemies. You tell me that one of them - a police officer, no less - wanted me captured and now thinks I'm dead. You tell me that I've 'been in bad situations before.'" He paused to catch his breath. "It's like a puzzle missing too many pieces to make out any sort of picture. I'm missing something, and since my memory doesn't seem to be forthcoming, I'm assuming you know exactly what's going on. Considering the situation, I think you *need* to tell me."
For a very long time Buffy said nothing at all. "Angel," she said wearily, "this isn't something I can just tell. It's too hard for me, and I'm afraid…"
"Afraid?" Angel asked sharply. "Don't you think I'm afraid? And not just now, with being captured. I mean every day. I'm afraid because I wake up every day and I don't know. I don't *know*! Everything in my life is a complete blank. I can't see a future for myself, because I don't have a past! So what are you possibly afraid of?"
"I'm afraid you'll hate me!" Buffy cried in response.
Angel was completely shocked. "Buffy, what…"
She swallowed so hard Angel could hear it. "You would. I know you would! So yes, Angel, I'm afraid. I'm afraid you'll remember and you'll hate me."
"I could never hate you," Angel said thickly, the words sticking in his throat.
"You could," Buffy said softly. "If you remembered everything I've done to you, you could hate me."
"Buffy," Angel said certainly, "you have helped me far more than I ever expected. Without you, I would still be cowering in my basement apartment, probably barely speaking. Now, not to say that *this* situation is a great improvement…" That earned a faint chuckle from Buffy. "It would have been far worse without you here."
"That's why you'll hate me," Buffy whispered. "You'll hate me because if you knew what I know, you wouldn't want me here. I shouldn't be here."
"Then why are you here?" Angel asked earnestly. He felt her withdrawing from his side and reached for her blindly. "Please, Buffy! If you think I'd hate you so much, why are you here?"
"Because I love you," Buffy whispered in the darkness.
Angel was certain he hadn't heard her right. "What?"
"I love you, okay!" Buffy yelled suddenly. Then she breathed in harshly. "Oh…" she whispered.
Angel felt the breath rush from his lungs. "I love you," he heard himself whisper back.
He heard a sob catch in Buffy's throat. "Angel, please…"
"Buffy…" He caught her arm blindly. His mind was swimming. "Please, don't…"
She pulled her arm away. "Don't do this to me!" she cried. "You don't know what you're saying! You don't know…"
"But I do know," Angel said calmly back. "I do know. I love you. I always have and I always will."
Buffy sobbed. "You know that?" she whispered hopefully. The she sobbed again. "You couldn't know."
Angel's head felt all fuzzy, but one thing was clear. "I know," he said with certainty. "I love you, too."
Suddenly Angel felt her weight against him as she flung herself against his side. "I love you," she cried. "I never stopped. I didn't mean what I said." He held her as she shook with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I love you."
Her words were a soothing balm on a wound that Angel didn't even know he had. Despite the cold and the damp and the fear, Angel felt himself smiling. Holding her tightly against him, he let the world slip away.
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Part Twelve
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*Tip toe through tireless peace
Come and go, leave your toys and sweets
If I had a place you could visit me
Read fairy tales, play hide and go seek*
Angel held Buffy to him, rocking slightly as one might comfort a small child. Without really thinking about it, he hummed a soft tune reminiscent of a lullaby as she calmed in his arms.
*Cliff faces are far too steep
Even though we try to smile through our teeth*
Yet even as he devoted his thoughts to giving her comfort, his mind was being pulled elsewhere. It was as if his mind had been struck by lightening, and now something he could not name was burning him from within. It was impossible to fight it.
/Disorientation. Confusion. Sensation./
*This surface is not too deep
Although we have our secrets to keep*
/Scents hung heavy in the air, like over-fragrant incense. It smelled like frankincense, so thick that it had lost all possibility of pleasantness. There was a hint of something else beneath it, but he couldn't tell what it was. It softened the scent slightly, but not enough.
It made his lungs burn./
*Tightropes are seldom too weak
Say I've lost my shoes or I have cold feet*
/His entire body felt wrong. Like it didn't belong to him. His chest felt tight. And that felt wrong, unfamiliar. He.he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating.
His sudden gasp for air made him cough violently. It hurt.actually, everything hurt. The burning in his lungs, however, faded with each gasping breath./
*Say stranger how did we meet
Who will hear us when we start to speak*
/Without realizing it immediately, he had opened his eyes when he had started coughing. His vision was simply a blur at first, a swirl of reds and oranges. For some reason the flickering, fiery images made him deathly afraid.
He tried to wipe his eyes to clear them, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't move his arms. Both were held fast about the wrists and he struggled in vain against his bonds./
*Our shadows are still out on the street
My skin still as white as a sheet*
/Two figures entered his hazy and confused vision. At first he only got vague impressions they were there. The first was a vibrant, energetic, and powerful presence that soothed him in a way he didn't understand. The second figure was dark and suffocating, as if it took everything around it in and gave nothing in return./
*Our time is short and fleet
Empty pockets, trick or treat*
/The dark figure spoke first. "Your creation is awake, old woman," he said. His image resolved itself into a middle-aged man. He was dressed in a long, red robe, but beneath it peeked the collar of a dress shirt and tie.
The second figure was a woman, and despite the man's words she did not seem to be old to the captive. In truth, he could not tell what age she was. Her hair was long and straight, and pure white. She, too, was dressed in a robe, white as her hair, though she wore hers like it was a part of her instead of simply ceremonial trapping./
*We all need food to eat
Friend or foe we all go to sleep*
/"He is not my creation," she said in a voice that was both young and old. She had an odd accent. "You make me sound like Dr. Frankenstein."
The man scoffed at that. "We all saw the ashes," he said. "You can't expect me to believe that."
"I don't care what you believe, so long as you listen," the woman snapped. "I told you; you can not simply kill this man. He is too important to Them. The retribution would be beyond what either of us could imagine. The best we can do is render him powerless.helpless. Than neither he nor They can do anything against you."
The man smiled cruelly. "I like the way you think, old woman," he said, running a hand down her side./
*Life away from home is far from cheep
So look long before you leap*
/The woman looked disgusted at his touch. "Stand back, fool," she demanded. "I'm not done here."
"What do you mean you're not done?" the man demanded. He gestured towards the captive. "Look at him, staring at us like a frightened animal. He's helpless. Harmless."
"Yes, he is," the woman agreed. "But do you want him to stay that way or for him to remember exactly what you did to him the moment he walks out that door?"
The man looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he stepped out of the captive's field of view. "Proceed," he ordered./
*Hey soldier please have a seat
You're only alive while your own heart beats*
/To the man, it might have appeared like she was leaning over the captive, chanting. To the captive it was something else entirely. She held a long knife in her hands, its blade catching the firelight. "I'm sorry," she whispered so that only he could hear. "I wish there was another way. But the Phoenix must rise again."
She held the knife steadily over his chest. His breath came faster in fear. "You will not remember me," she said, "but you will see me again, Angel."
Then the knife lowered slowly. It pierced his skin and he cried out in sudden pain. He continued to scream as she dragged the knife along his chest. It cut deep, and somewhere beyond the pain and terror he could feel the dampness of his own blood. As she looked into his agonized gaze she chanted softly, inaudible over his screams. She continued her work with careful precision, a lone tear trickling down her cheek./
*There will always be wolves among the sheep
But what's left of the earth will be plowed by the meek
Ploughed by the meek
By the meek.*
/Suddenly she stopped, removing her knife, and the scream died in Angel's throat. He was panting for breath, already feeling strange from the loss of blood. She stood tall before him, already withdrawing from his vision.
"Clean and dress that wound," she ordered the man still somewhere in the room. "You don't want him dying after all the work I did to give him to you alive." The woman swept out of sight a second later, and Angel could hear the sound of a heavy door slamming.
She was gone./
*Tip toe through tireless peace
Come and go, leave your toys and sweets*
/The man reappeared before Angel, a sneer twisting his already cruel features. "Clean and dress that wound," he mocked. "No, it may hurt like hell, but it won't kill you.yet." He leaned over Angel and pressed a hand over the precise cuts, making him bite back another cry of pain. "Just think," the man said. "Reborn, the first sound you make is always a scream." He pulled his hand away and showed Angel the blood. "Revenge is sweet, isn't it?"
He stood up again, still smiling. "You will leave here when we are done with you; don't doubt that," he said. "No reason for us to keep you around any more than necessary. First, though." he turned from Angel to direct his attention to someone out of sight. "Do with him what you will," he said. "So long as he'd breathing when he leaves here, nothing else matters."
He returned his gaze to Angel and his voice dropped into a mocking tone. "Be a good boy and drop into a coma for us, would you?" he said. Then he, too, was gone.
The pain and the screams continued./
*When I have a place you can visit me
Read fairy tales, play hide and go seek
And go seek
And go seek
And go seek
Go seek.*
"Angel!" Buffy's voice was very close at hand. "Angel, what's wrong?"
Angel's breath calmed and his heartbeat slowed. He looked down at Buffy, knowing that she was concerned even though he could not see her in the darkened room. "What?" Angel asked in confusion.
"You were shaking," Buffy explained. "You were holding me, humming, then stopped suddenly, started shaking, and wouldn't answer me."
"I'm alright," Angel assured her, but he wasn't so certain of that himself. He felt dazed, disoriented. He put his hand to the scar on his chest and was faintly surprised to find that it wasn't bleeding or even painful. "How am I alive?" Angel whispered.
Buffy sat up straighter, pulling away from him slightly. "What?"
"I was dead, wasn't I?" Angel asked. He was surprised at how easily the question came. He frowned in concentration. No, there was something more. "How long was I?"
"You remember something," Buffy said in understanding.
"Yes," Angel whispered, preoccupied.
"Tell me what it is, Angel, please?"
Angel leaned back, suddenly exhausted. "I saw.when I was brought back, I guess. I.can't explain how they did it. And I don't know who they were. But I know I *was* dead. And I think you know it, too. But how long."
Buffy sighed audibly. "Were you dead?" she finished for him. "We.Cordelia, Wesley, and I.aren't sure, exactly. You were gone for several days, but considering.the condition you were in when you were found, you may have only been dead for a brief time, then kept.elsewhere. Captive." There was a long pause as Buffy contemplated what to say next. "That's not all you're asking, though, is it?"
Angel didn't even need to think about his answer. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a large precipice, possibly even already falling, over the gaping hole called 'past.' "No, that's not all I was asking."
Buffy shifted against him, and Angel could imagine her thinking of how to approach the subject gently. She took a deep breath, then spoke slowly and precisely. "You were dead.undead.for two and a half centuries." She waited silently for Angel's response.
"Undead?" he asked, ready to refute what she'd said. Then it all seemed to slip together, dreams traveling over the line into memory. "Vampire."
"Yes," Buffy replied carefully.
Angel was faintly surprised. Not at the facts, which came together, healing his fractured memory with each passing second. Rather he was surprised that Buffy, who had refused to tell him anything about his past, was suddenly so forthcoming. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asked.
"Because you were right," Buffy explained. "I don't know what we're up against, but it *always* has something to do with demons, vampires, or fighting all of the above. I would bet anything that whoever captured us is in league with demons or evil or something." She sighed and leaned comfortably into Angel's arms once again. "Besides," she whispered, "I get the feeling you already knew."
Faces without names. Names without faces. Names and faces together. Mother, father, sister.sire, childe.friend, lover. "Yes, I knew."
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Go to Part 13