DISCLAIMER: Please. If they were mine, I would not be this cruel to either Angel or Buffy. Bad Joss! Bad!
TIMELINE: After 'Shadow' and 'The Shroud of Rahmon'.
SPOILERS: 'Shadow', 'Shroud Of Rahmon'.
SYNOPSIS: More dreaminess.
DISTRIBUTION: Have others, take; want any, ask.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Title is from a line in 'Angel Of Mine' (heh) by Eternal.
AUTHOR'S NOTES 2: I'm pretty sure that 'Family' followed right on from 'No Place Like Home' and 'Shadow' from 'Fool For Love', which, if the shows are supposed to run in realtime, I think means that the Buffyverse is about two weeks behind the Angelverse. But I would like to claim artistic license in ignoring this, on the grounds it would make things difficult for me .
FEEDBACK: I'd appreciate it ;).
RATING: PG-12

I guess a lot of people have tried to escape whatever crappy stuff is going on in their lives by going to bed. Riley with his Psych degree would no doubt explain it as some sort of womb substitute. I with my lucid dreaming am explaining it as a boyfriend substitute.

I've got to be strong out here. But in there ... in there with Angel, I can cry.

* * * * *

I just couldn't summon up the energy to try and get anywhere specific, so I let fate decide, regardless of how often fate *hasn't* got it right for me and Angel already.

Once again, we ended up at my place; but my room was slightly different. It took me a while to put my finger on it, but I eventually realised this wasn't my room now, but how it was when I first moved to Sunnydale.

Now *that* is probably psychologically significant.

Anyway, Angel turned up right on schedule, meaning I didn't have a lot of time to sit and think. This is a good thing; my head isn't such a fun place to be lately.

'Hey,' I said softly.

'Hi,' he said, lingering by the door, and then I looked straight at him. I don't know quite what was showing in my eyes, but it was enough to make him come to my side almost faster than I could register him moving.

I fell gratefully into his embrace, pressing myself tightly against the reassuring bulk of his body and burying my face in his chest. He's got a very good chest for burrowing into; broad, unyielding and cool.

We sank to the floor by mutual unspoken decision, ending with him sitting leaning against the bed, facing out of the window, me sprawled across his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. My arms stayed locked around his neck and I hid my face in his flesh, in the dip between his shoulder and collarbone where it was made to fit.

It would be an erotic position with anyone else, but with Angel, now, it was just comforting, simply exactly what I needed. It was home.

He let me cry myself out into his shirt, rubbing my back, touching my hair, shushing me with soothing noises and a litany of nonsense words.

Eventually I calmed, feeling a pang of embarrassment before it was swept away by the force of *him*, reminding me it was Angel, it was okay.

'So,' I said, straightening, sniffling slightly, then laughing sheepishly, 'happy Thanksgiving.'

His arms tightened around me painfully, but it was kind of nice, so rather than encourage him to pull back, I only snuggled closer, inhaling his familiar scent.

'You too,' he said with a slight waver I didn't understand - barely caught, actually. 'I'd forgotten.'

'Yeah, well,' I said, shrugging, 'it's all crass commercialization anyway.'

Our eyes met and I saw a shadow of agony there before he smiled crookedly and banished it. 'Yeah.'

We remained in that quiet state for a while after that. I'd almost forgotten comfortable, drawn-out silences, and just how ... comfortable they can be. All the silences I can remember being in lately have to do with my mom; with my mom in the hospital, with Dawn asking desperately for reassurances I can't provide.

But at least I can have this. What does Dawn have, besides the memories of a life she never lived with a family that's not hers and a future filled with - God knows what. A certain blonde after her for sure, though for unsure purposes. And whether she succeeds or not, what happens to Dawn? Will she stay with us, and the false recollections will become reality, will she just disappear, or will she have never been?

'We can't know that, Buffy,' Angel said quietly.

Weird how you can hear yourself talking in your head and not realise you're saying it out loud as well.

'Would you want her to stay?' he asked me.

'I don't know,' I said slowly, 'she's not my sister. But she *is*. She's a person, you know? I want ...' I stopped, thinking about it and then saying, 'I know my memories aren't real, but I cant get my head round that they aren't. It makes me wonder, what's real, what happened and what did the monks just ... plant in my head so they could fit her in?'

'Most of your memories will be true,' he offered, 'they wouldn't have got your subconscious to accept anything too alien to you.'

'Like Riley?' I said mockingly. 'I remember Dawn encouraging me to date him.'

Our eyes met, and I saw a familiar unsurety; a simple guy thing, namely 'when one's ex with whom one is still in love verbally abuses or insinuates verbal abuse on their current, do you join in?'

He wanted to, I could tell. He's already expressed that he's not exactly a fan of Riley. But I let him off the hook anyway.

'Doesn't matter,' I said, sighing dramatically, 'presumably he was in the picture before Dawn anyway.'

He smiled a little. 'She liked me,' he reminded me.

'Apart from thinking you made me miserable,' I said idly.

I could feel his sigh ripple across my hair.

'Was it really so bad, Buffy?'

'Sometimes,' I said honestly, leaning my head on his chest and intertwining our fingers. 'When I think about how many nights I just spent crying over you ...'

'I'm sorry,' he said heavily.

'I'm not blaming you,' I said, for the first time realising I truly didn't. 'It wasn't ... they probably weren't good nights for you either.'

He kissed my hair fleetingly, 'But the good nights were ...'

'Great,' I finished fervently, raising my head to look him in the eye, 'best ever. I just forgot that for a while.'

He smiled at me gently, his hand on my back moving in long, languorous sweeps. I shivered pleasurably and leaned into him.

'How are you?' he asked, suddenly and tentatively.

I'm kind of starting to hate that question, and I think I'm going to have a lot more opportunities to hear it. It's not me that's sick; it's my mom. I've got to be strong because of that, and it's harder when faced with all the well-meaning concern. I know I'm coming off as ungrateful, and I'm not, really: I appreciate it, I love that people care. It's just ... the question makes me think about how I actually am, and I don't really want to do that.

'Stressed,' I admitted to Angel, 'worried, crazy with anxiety. Filled with a sudden deep love for Mom and Dawn.'

'That's all understandable,' he said reassuringly. It's kind of useful to have all this wisdom on tap. Maybe I'll be able to pick some up, like by osmosis. Or maybe I'll just learn it for myself.

'Tell me she'll be okay?' I said pleadingly, knowing I sounded oh-so-young.

'I wish I could,' he said softly, his pain for me evident in his voice.

'I know,' I said, staring very intently at his top button. 'I don't really want to talk about it.'

'Okay,' he said reassuringly.

I got up in one movement, moving quickly over to the window and staring out at nothing in particular. I knew when he moved hesitantly to stand behind me.

Not least because his reflection appeared in the glass of the window.

I smiled a little, to see it, 'Is it weird for you to see yourself?'

'What?' he said. Then his gaze followed mine and I saw the Angel in the glass grin. His reflection locked eyes with mine.

'Yeah, I guess,' his smile faltered, 'I don't think I'd like it full time.'

He perched on the end of the bed. I stayed where I was.

'Why not?'

'Done too much,' he said with an eloquent shrug.

'Oh,' I said, watching his hazy figure in the dark glass. 'You know, I never think of you as not having a reflection.'

'That's probably why I've suddenly acquired one, then,' he said dryly.

'Maybe,' I said, suddenly becming fascinated with his reflection. 'How do you avoid them all the time?' I asked curiously.

'Mirrors? It becomes instinctive after a while,' he said, 'you learn to keep just out of the line of anything reflective. A lot of the time people won't even notice you're not visible in them if you're not full-on. They assume you'll be there, so they see you.'

'People aren't too intelligent, are they?' I said, turning around and leaning against the window.

He laughed, 'Most people just see what they want rather than what's there. It's not exactly stupidity.'

'Tell me about it,' I said, thrilled to be on safe ground. 'I'm not sure if there's anything Sunnydale residents can't forget.'

His expression went thoughtful. 'It's easier for them that way. And for you. It gets harder when people know.'

'Uh-oh,' I teased gently, 'do I sense a backstory?'

'Do you remember a blonde cop from when you were ... last in LA?'

'Yeah,' I said, remembering the terror I'd felt all through the Faith thing - that I hadn't wanted to admit was all for Angel - heightening when I realised what the cop intended to do. And the hurt when it had registered that this woman was important enough to Angel for him to have told her what he was - and I didn't know her.

'She has trouble with it,' he said evasively.

'What, she found out a few months back and it's only just occurred to her it's weird?' I said in disbelief.

'Not exactly,' he said, sighing. 'It just came up again recently and ... I don't know.'

'What happened?' I said, businesslike.

'I bit her,' he said, not looking at me.

My jaw worked, but nothing came out. I tried again, 'What?'

'There's a story,' he said.

'I should damn well hope so,' I muttered. I certainly don't want to find out he's found some woman who's feeding herself to him regularly.

Maybe the scar brands me as his, but the bite marked him as mine.

'I was trying to fool some bad guys,' he revealed, 'it was the only way they'd buy it. I didn't take enough to permanently harm her.'

'Mmm,' I said darkly.

He didn't comment.

'How long had it been since you ate something warm?' I asked bluntly.

He still didn't answer.

'Still hungry?' I said.

'Both of me,' he said almost too quietly for me to hear, and his eyes flashed yellow as he looked at me.

Cool. I've never seen a vampire go half game-face like that.

I weighed up for a few moments. I can't be really killed while in a dream ... I think ... but memory and suggestion, and the dream experience (15 a head, open Friday through Sunday, You'll Think You're Really There) would give both of us the feeling that he was feeding from me.

We can't repeat that in the physical world. Ever. I know it, and he knows it. But it was - I can't explain it. I know he nearly killed me, but it was all about life. Him and me, and us together.

And a feeling that Riley hasn't ever quite driven me to, to put it in the most non-gutter way I can think of.

I reached for him, turning his face gently to mine, and he let me. I pulled him close, and he let me. I drew him to my neck, making my intent clear, and he didn't let me.

'No,' he said softly, pulling back.

'Don't try and tell me you don't want to,' I said, hurt, but noting the way his gaze was riveted to my thundering pulse.

He switched his focus to my eyes for a moment, and then grabbed me and pulled us back to that position, his mouth at my throat; he bit down gently with blunt teeth and tongued my skin. I felt a stab of fear, the desire to reach for a stake, then a rush of pleasure overwhelmed it and I relaxed into his hold, sliding a hand into his dark hair.

He kissed my neck once.

He moved away.

'Always,' he said, his eyes flashing yellow again as he backed away. He shot me one grin, and was out the door.

He'll be back. I give good temptation.

Go to the next story Lives a Dream

Send feedback to Esmerelda

Back to the FanfictionArchive