Cautiously, the group approached their grieving friend, and gently drew her to her feet. She faltered, and Xander tenderly swept her into his arms as they moved outside to Giles' car. Buffy whimpered in pain and trembled, but made no motion to deter him. Once inside the, they realised they did not know where to take Buffy. Buffy was no help, as she had finally given into her exhaustion, and was now sleeping, albeit fitfully. Her home would surely be the most comforting, but Giles feared the memories that would now haunt it, might prove too much for her to handle. Everyone agreed that she should not be left alone, as that would only compound her feelings of isolation. They wanted to choose a location that would be large enough to house the entire gang, but no one felt ready to face Xander's basement again. The only place that seemed as though it would be large enough to keep everyone content and relatively quiet gained a groan of disapproval from Xander, a grimace from Giles, and a worried look from Willow. Though she feared the past Buffy shared with it might be her undoing, she hoped that instead, her best friend might find comfort in its placid solitude.
*******
Buffy rubbed groggily at her eyes, her hands shielding her pale face from the soft morning sunlight. She lazily rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply a sweet, familiar aroma, pulling the covers up over her head. A war was waging inside of her: slumber fighting off consciousness, and winning! Just as she was beginning to drift back into a peaceful oblivion, memories of the previous day's events flooded her mind. Her muscles tensed, and she flung the covers from her head, struggling to sit up. This was not her bedroom. Where was she?
Something about the room was intensely familiar. The smell, the atmosphere, everything about this place was causing bolts of pleasure to dart in her stomach like flashes of lightning. She glanced over to the window and wondered who had drawn back the thick, black curtains. Instinctively, she rose to draw them shut. Feeling slightly disoriented, she wandered about the room, stretching her fatigued muscles and patting distractedly at her hair. She turned to look in the mirror to tame her unruly tresses, and found there was none. Suddenly the pieces fell into place, and Buffy crumpled to the floor feeling as though her still-beating heart had been ripped from her chest. Tears welled as she fought for composure. Gasping for air, the only word she could moan was his name. Angel.
********
Willow quietly opened the door to one of the many bedrooms in the mansion. She was unsure of what she would find on the other side, what the status of Buffy would be like. Part of her breathed a silent prayer that Buffy would still be sleeping, but the other part of her told her that she was only delaying the inevitable. The memories of Dawn were still strong, but the spell the monks had cast was losing its effect. Willow could now clearly remember Buffy and hмЅe #Р ^ W , l , l Њ ] ( ь T ю ] Times New Roman Symbol Arial Times New Roman Times New Roman
Timeline: End of BtVS S5 and AtS S2.
Spoilers: Everything up to "The Body". IWRY. Really, nothing major. Just my speculation as to what should happen at the end of this season.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. If I did, there would be no need for fanfic.
Author's Notes: This is my first fic. Hopefully it won't read like it is, but keep that in mind.
Rating: PG
Distribution: Please ask. It's good for the ego.
Dedication: To Sarah, because she thought the idea was supreme. Also, to Physics class, because it's very conducive to talk about Buffy and potential fic!
Buffy Summers slumped to the floor of the warehouse, her tiny frame racked with exhaustion. The concrete was cold against her cheeks, flushed from the recent battle, and her fingers traced mindless patterns in the light layer of dust that coated the floor. She felt numb inside, as though the fire which had once burned so brightly inside of her had been now extinguished. Permanently.
Her weary mind attempted to process everything that had happened in the past year: Riley had left her, after whoring himself like a junkie to vampires who bit him for the rush. He was supposed to have been her normal, reliable boyfriend; the boy everyone wanted for her even if she didn't. In the past, she had longed for a normal life, in the way that those with normal lives long for adventure. Then she had met him and the world around her had melted into darkness. She had loved him, and when he left her, he took everything she was, including her dreams of normality, with him. Even as she had looked Riley straight in the eye and told him she had given him her heart, body, and soul, she had known it was a lie. In truth, those were no longer hers to give. She didn't blame Riley for leaving, for she had come to accept the fact that any important man in her life inevitably wound up abandoning her. A secret part of her had been relieved at his departure, and that same part told her that it could not have been any other way. She had shunned a normal life, and then when faced with the possibility, that normal life shunned her. Her mother had taken their break-up harder than she had. Joyce had loved Riley, if only because he wasn't him.
Buffy stiffened at the thought of her mother. She was gone to her now, as well. Everything had been going so well, life was suddenly starting to look right again. And then, out of nowhere, she was gone. Her mother had fought for so long and so hard against that tumour. She had undergone the surgery and survived. She was learning how to live all over again, when suddenly she had it all ripped away from her. A side-effect of the surgery had caused clotting in her brain and triggered an aneurysm. Buffy had come home to find her lying cold and dead on the living room sofa. Since the day she had accepted her destiny, Buffy had always believed that she would die before her mother, but Fate had another plan, as Fate so often does. With Joyce's death, another of Buffy's ties to the world was severed, leaving her only with Dawn.
Dawn. Her little sister, had turned out not to have been her sister at all. She was actually the embodiment of energy called the Key, sent to Buffy by monks for safe-keeping. Buffy was to protect Dawn from Glory, a god from an alternate dimension. In the end, it happened that Dawn was the key to defeating Glory, and in a gesture incredibly touching for a child so young, Dawn had sacrificed her human life in order to save the world. Now Buffy lay in the aftermath of this battle, her hopes fading once more. All of Buffy's dreams of being an only child were true. She didn't feel like an only child though. No, she felt like a young woman who has lost both her mother and sister in the course of six months. The memories of her little sister were still with her. Inside, she was numb and she had somehow managed to detach herself from her surroundings. She had no other choice. No human could feel so much pain and remain sane. Being the Slayer did not necessarily equip her with heightened emotional strength.
As the truth of her situation sank in, Buffy's body began to shake and convulse with sobs of grief and anguish. Tears rolled down her gaunt cheeks, exploding into salty puddles. The Scooby Gang stood listlessly watching her, the total of their combined pain still blinded by her own. No one moved, unser mother moving to Sunnydale without a little sister in tow. Maybe as those memories faded, so to would Buffy's pain. But for now, Buffy needed her. So many times Willow had relied on Buffy's strength; now it was her turn to be strong.
Inhaling deeply, Willow entered the room to find Buffy lying catatonically on the bed. Her shallow intakes of breath were the indication that she was still alive. Her eyes were glazed, and she stared at the ceiling as though in a trance. Immediately, Willow rushed to the Slayer's side and stroked her forehead, as if the motion would dispel all the distress Buffy felt from her body.
"Shhh. Buffy, it's going to be ok. Just let it all out," the sympathetic Wicca, soothed.
Buffy gave an anguished wail, and threw herself into the red head's embrace.
"Why, Will? Why?" she moaned, tears splotching her face and clothing.
"Oh Buffy," Willow sighed, "it's not for us to know. What Dawn did last night, was incredibly brave. It hurts now, I know. She was like a sister to me, too. But maybe, in time, you'll be proud. Proud that you and your mom raised such a wonderful, giving, person. Someone who took a page from her big sister's book, and did the noble thing."
Buffy shook her head desperately, as if trying to rid her mind of unwanted thoughts or memories. What Willow said was true, but that was not really why she was crying. Dawn was a dream, and Buffy was waking up. The more time that passed, the more Dawn receded from her mind, as the memories began to blur and converge with the truths of her life.
"No Will," she blubbered, trying to get her to understand, "I mean, I know Will. But that's not why. I'm not crying because." Buffy struggled to compose herself, to get the words that were plaguing her out of her system. Taking a reassuring breath, Buffy whispered, "Why did you bring me here?"
"Oh Buffy!" Willow cried, clutching her closer to her, "We just thought that you wouldn't want to be alone, you know? And, we thought that your home might be too much for you to handle, and no one else had a place big enough for all of us to stay." Her words trailed off, as she searched for the right thing to say. "If it's too hard for you, Buffy," she continued, "we can go somewhere else." It was more of a question than a statement.
Buffy shook her head, and closed her eyes. "No Wills. It's just so painful." Buffy wrestled herself out of her best friend's grasp, which wasn't very difficult even considering her weakened state. She struggled to sit up so she could look Willow in the eye. It was time to free her soul of all the grief it carried:
"I feel like I'm battling a bad bout of amnesia. My mind is cluttered with all these thoughts and memories that are fading like dreams do, and they're all starting to be replaced by new truths. Only, it hurts so badly, because I can still feel those dreams. And the new memories, which ironically are my old memories, as they hit me, it's like I'm living them all over again. I have to withstand all that pain, one more time, but now, I'm even more alone. because there's no Dawn there.
"It scares me to think that soon I might not remember her. She still feels like my sister. Part of me thinks that I miss her more because of Mom. Dawn knew what I felt because she felt it too, and that bound us together forever.
"But Dawn is fading. I can remember life before her. But Will, now there's him. I remember him, everything we did, and I know it's real. It's like someone is screaming at me, 'Remember Angel? That way you're feeling, that's the truth. Don't try to hide it, because you can't.' This is pure, unbridled emotion Will. How long before it swallows me whole?"
Buffy's eyes were beginning to glint with desperation. Willow sat silently, unsure of what to say. Could Buffy stand to lose Angel again? On top of everything else? Should she try to get Buffy to calm down and subdue the memories, or was it best that they were given form? The silence hummed, and crackled with pain and tension. Thankfully Buffy broke it first.
"Will, I'm back to square one. Three years later, I can still remember his body. The way his body felt pressed against mine. I'm going crazy Willow. I can't stop the memories. It's like that telepathy, except Angel was there then, and he saved me. I can see all of it: making love to him, watching him as he was sucked into Hell knowing I was the reason, falling in love with him all over again, and having him leave me once more."
Buffy's mind raced forward in time, remembering telling Angel she had never trusted him, that she loved someone new. But something was missing. Something had happened between then and the Graduation. She had seen him once more. Frantically she searched the recesses of her mind, desperately trying to find a memory that was purposely eluding her.
Willow's brow furrowed with concern, as Buffy's eyes turned misty and her friend went silent. Her friend seemed lost, deep in contemplation and reflection. She looked as though she were concentrating intently on a problem, and was on the verge of its solution.
"Buffy?" she asked quietly. Buffy shook herself from her mental foray, and stared at Will, as though seeing her for the first time. "Willow. I'm sorry about you and Oz. I know how hard that must have been for you. You never really get over that first love do you?"
Willow was startled by the conversation's turn? Whatever she had been expecting Buffy to say, it hadn't been that. It had been a long time since anyone had mentioned her former boyfriend, especially since she had started seeing Tara. What Buffy said was true. You never really get over your first love. especially if you were still in love with him. Still, sometimes things didn't work out the way they were supposed to. Life seemed to have little respect for soul mates, and Willow couldn't help but wonder if she was still waiting for the day when she would be reunited with Oz. If all life was, when you were without your soul's completion, was waiting.
She shook herself from her inner turmoil, and realized Buffy had started frantically rambling again.
".and I think of everything we shared, and I love him more than I should. I never stopped Will. I never could. We gave up so much. We both made sacrifices, but love's like that, right? I mean, I gave him my heart. He gave up his humanity for me."
Willow jumped in, unable to let her friend blame herself for the return of Angelus, "Buffy no! You know it wasn't your fault that Angel lost his soul. If either of you had known what would have happened. but you didn't so you, well, you know. It was my fault. I told you to seize the day. Maybe if I had been a better friend."
Buffy went quiet and stared quizzically at the guilt-stricken red head. She was confused. That wasn't what she had been talking about. "Don't blame yourself Will. You weren't even there. You know, when I went to visit Angel at Thanksgiving." Her voice faltered as her mind cracked and the memories came pouring through: Ice Cream. A kitchen table lying splintered on the floor. Kisses on the beach. Two hearts beating.
She gasped as she the memories pieced together like an intricate puzzle. "Willow," she stammered, "I remember."
********
"Remember? Remember what?" Willow asked, staring at Buffy , confusion etched on her face.
"Thanksgiving, Willow! Angel was human."
Buffy scrambled from the bed and moved towards the door. Willow ran to her and slammed the door shut, worried that her friend had finally lost it.
"Buffy, calm down. You're just tired and upset, and you know, not making any sense. But that's understandable, given your situation. Why don't you just lie down and I'll go get Giles."
"NO! I can't," Buffy stated. Then she grimaced and crinkled her nose in exasperation, "Willow, you wouldn't remember. Even I wasn't supposed to, but I do. Listen to me very carefully: Angel was made human by a demon sent to destroy him. Some of their blood mixed, and Angel ended up alive. He gave up his humanity so that I could live. We shared one day together, one perfect day, and then he asked the Oracles to turn him into what he once was. The Oracles turned back time and gave him back the day, so he could kill the demon who had made him human. Only he was supposed to remember what had happened so that he could stop it from happening again."" Buffy began to tremble as she took the time to remember the day's events. " He worried that he wouldn't be able to protect me. He sacrificed his life, for mine..."
Willow was unsure as to whether or not she should tell Buffy that she wasn't making much, if any, sense. She knew that Buffy's life was rarely normal, but this, this was so extreme.
"Buffy," she started tentatively, "this doesn't make any sense. If you weren't supposed to remember the day, why do you? Why now?"
"I don't know, Will," Buffy murmured distractedly, "I just don't know. Maybe it was the spell? I mean, we're all regaining memories of the past as it really was, so maybe I'm finally remembering things the way they really were."
Willow was still uncomfortable with this whole idea. She knew Buffy as well as was humanly possible, and she really didn't like the obstinate underlying tone to her words. If she was reading the conversation correctly, Buffy was forming a plan. In battle, that may have been her forte, but in real life, Buffy's plans had the sour tendency to go a muck.
"But Buffy, don't you think that. Well, you weren't supposed to remember this day, right? Angel wanted it that way, and so did these Oracles. maybe it would be best if you."
"If I what, Will? Move on with my life? Pretend that I don't remember what we had? What we could have had?" Buffy moved to the bed and sat in trepidation on the corner, cradling her head in her hands, as the intimacy of those words washed over her, causing her to tremble.
"Buffy, what is it? Do you feel ill? I can get Giles. He's just in the next room." Willow babbled nervously.
"No, Will. I'm as good as can be expected. It was just those words. I've said those exact words before. To him. It's the most surreal case of dщjр vu I've ever had. It's so intense." Buffy pushed herself from the bed, and stood with mock confidence. She tried to keep her knees from giving out, summoning every ounce of inner poise she had ever known. Her decision was clear, she knew what she had to do. "Will, it sounds crazy, I know, but I have to go. To him. I have to see Angel."
"Buffy." Willow feebly attempted to counter Buffy's proclamation, knowing it was futile. Buffy had that look about her, like she was about to go into full Slayer mode.
"Please. Don't try to stop me, Will. I have to do this, and it has to be now. I can't let him think I forgot our day. forgot my promise." She grabbed Willow's hand, as if to mask her trembling, as tears began to slide down her cheeks. "Will," she whispered, "I have to go to him and make him understand, and make him believe in us. I can't live in a world where promises mean nothing."
Touched by the beauty of the sentiment, Willow simply nodded, her heart breaking from the truth of the moment. How could she keep apart two lovers who had defied fate itself on numerous occasions? If she had learned anything since Buffy had first come to Sunnydale, it was that anything was possible. Something more powerful than reason was telling her that Buffy was needed elsewhere. She knew how much it hurt to be lonely, and hoped that this was Buffy's chance to break from its bitter clutches.
She managed to choke out Buffy's name, her voice clouded with tearful emotion, as she wrapped her best friend in a surprisingly strong embrace. Pulling back, she gently wiped away the offending tears that had stained her face, and gave a devastatingly kind smile.
"Go to him, Buffy," was all she could she murmur, her eyes never leaving those of the petite blonde standing anxiously before her as she opened the bedroom door.
Buffy let out a deep breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding. Looking into Willow's eyes, all she saw was sympathy and acceptance of her plight. She gave a slight nod, indicating that she had heard and understood all the words that could not be shared.
And then, like a shadow at daybreak, she was gone. A warm breeze rustled the drapes at the window, and Willow moved to let the daylight in. As her hand reached the curtain, she thought better of it, and she too stepped silently from the room and made her way to Giles' room. Whatever Buffy had to face in LA, Willow was certain that it would be nowhere near as difficult as trying to explain to Giles and Xander what had just transpired.
*******
Buffy gratefully leapt from the Greyhound bus and stretched her lithe, athletic legs. The warm summer wind caressed her bare arms and danced with her silky, golden tresses. She swept the hair from her face and eagerly gazed about her, attempting to get her bearings. It had been a long time since she had been LA, having purposely avoided it since her last encounter with Angel. She winced at the remembrance of the pain that had flowed between them, his eyes unmasking sorrow in its purest and deepest form. How could she have told him that she loved Riley, of all people?!? She had never told Riley she had loved him because, it wasn't even an issue. Not for her at least. But this wasn't entirely her fault. No, Angel was partially to blame; how could he have believed her?
Agitated by these negative thoughts, Buffy quickly set off in the direction of Angel Investigations hoping to dispel her fears by the brisk walk. She vaguely recalled its location, having only briefly visited it twice before. Her mouth twisted into a secret smile as she reminisced about their day. She twirled a stray curl of hair about her fingers, as her pace slowed to a carefree saunter. She stared dreamily ahead as she bathed in the memory of Angel's own strong hands threading through her flowing locks, his strong arms locking her against his muscled form as he ravished her lips with his own, taking what was his; what she readily offered.
Vampires were cold by nature, but Buffy had never noticed Angel's lack of temperature. His touch had always enflamed her, smouldering with his own restrained passion, melding the souls. When he had kissed her on the beach, the sunlight streaming down upon them like a blessing from above, his touch had been just as it always had: that of a lover. The pain of the past months dissolved at their lips' union. She had clung to him in desperation as waves upon waves of desire besieged her soul starving for its completion. He had held her in the aftermath, knowing intuitively that her own legs offered little support in his presence. She had been lulled into a blissful trance by the hypnotic beating of his heart as it matched the perfect rhythm of her own.
Later that day, and well into the night, Buffy had marveled at the feeling of Angel's comforting body warming her own, his pulse keeping time. They lay together, as one, sated and complete, neither willing to succumb to sleep's powerful suggestion. He had brushed his lips tenderly across her forehead, promising that they'd make another one like it the next day. Snuggling even closer to him, Buffy drifted off to sleep; a sleep where for once, her dreams held no torch to her reality.
Buffy knew that life with him would never be easy, but she had finally admitted to herself that it was the only way. Tired of simply existing, she yearned for the flashes of life that only Angel could spark within her. Not a day passed where she didn't wonder if it would be her last for, she knew only too well how quickly it all went. Angel thought he knew, but immortality had to have affected his concept of time. His supply was endless. Buffy knew that every fleeting day was one day closer to death. No matter how she looked at it, figuratively or literally, she was dying without Angel
As Buffy walked, her mind trailed from Angel to Dawn. She had been so involved with thoughts of him, of them together on the day no longer forgotten, that she had overlooked the sacrifice by which she had been gifted these memories. While her heart grieved, it was for a sister Buffy could not fully remember. Memories of the past year when Dawn had actually existed were infused with raw love and genuine emotion, completely separate from the effects of any spell. She mourned the loss of the memories of a sister in spirit, if not in blood, but was content to forever retain the feeling and meaning of what it was to be a sister. As long as the feeling never died, neither would Dawn, and Buffy would never forget.
Buffy shook herself from her musings as the streets became less vague, and more familiar. She was getting close, she could feel it. Her skin began to hum, and sweat beaded on the palms of her hand in anticipation. She fought to remain composed, even though she was dying to run. Run as quickly as she could to him. She had to remain in control of herself, and make Angel understand that he wasn't dealing with naяve teenager. She was a woman now, and she knew what she wanted. If she were honest with herself, she had always known what she wanted, but she had been foolish and let it slip away. There had been a time when she told Angel that strong was fighting. when had she forgotten her own words? She grimaced internally as she affirmed that she had stopped fighting long before Dawn had arrived; before there was anyone to blame but herself.
But she was fighting now. She would die before allowing Angel to be denied to her once more.
And that's when she saw it. In the distance she recognised the street where Angel's building stood. Or had once stood. Buffy's confidence and thoughts of composure vanished as blind panic overtook her. Fighting her body's natural urge to collapse, she forced herself forward, breaking into a frantic sprint. Something was horribly wrong.
As she neared the wreckage, her mind began to cloud. Charred brick and concrete lay scattered about the site, and the heels of her shoes ground already shattered glass into the pavement. A sign indicated that the lot was up for sale, but the destruction about her was clearly not the work of a wrecking ball and crew. The scene screamed of violence and utter devastation. Anyone in the building at the time, would not have made it out alive. Not even Angel.
******
Buffy's mind desperately processed the carnage that lay about her as she stared in wide-eyed horror, her dreams crumbling to ash. Her heart fluttered weakly in her chest before it plummeted to the pits of her stomach. Gasping for air, she stumbled away blinded by shock as a surge of nausea whipped through her. She had to get away from this place as quickly as possible.
Buffy ran as though her life depended up on it, even though she felt like she was dying. Her life, her love, her angel, gone in an instant. Lost to her once more. Tears flowed freely like blood down her face, the wind whipping them dry and staining her cheeks as her feet pounded the pavement as she ran aimlessly through the busy streets, completely and irrevocably alone. Pedestrians gave her puzzled looks as she sprinted by, but were swiftly consumed by their own lives once more, never giving the young blonde a second thought. Buffy was running from a past wrought with mistakes and time wasted, from pain, from loss, from devastation. Subconsciously, she knew where she was headed, the only place that could provide solace and a safe haven for her grief. Her soul guided her through the streets, as it howled for its mate, leading her to the spot where it would temporarily rest as memory consumed her. How could she live with only half a soul, half a heart? Could she survive another sunrise alone?
As her feet hit the sand of the barren beach, her legs finally gave out. For the first time since her mother and Dawn's death, Buffy let go of all the pain and rage embedded deep within her. Her sorrow broke from its restraints, flooding her body and pounding through her mind. Tumbling to her knees, Buffy began to vomit violently, her breath catching in her throat. The metallic tang of blood registered in the back of her mind, as the contents of her body heaved onto the land. She felt as though the final shards of her spirit were being ripped from her like raw band-aids, leaving gaping wounds in their wake. Like a dying beast, Buffy collapsed completely, the sand sticking to her wet cheeks. She called out for her Angel, her sobs jolting her frail form.
This had been the place where they had met in dreams and dreams come true. Even Hell had not been able to keep him from her here. Together they had strolled lazily along the shore, Angel's capable arms encompassing her in an embrace that stopped time. The wind whispered gently through their hair, and the water lapped softly at their ankles, the warm sand squishing between the toes of their bare feet. He had crooned to her about his undying devotion, his smooth voice stroking her like an intimate caress. He had bent his neck to murmur an endearment, surprising her when his warm tongue had traced the pattern of her delicate ear. She had leaned backwards into his embrace, falling deeper and deeper, knowing he would catch her. He had promised her love. He had promised Forever.
Even when he had left her two years ago, her hope that one day they would be reunited had never burnt out. As long as they were both alive, or as close to living as possible, she had never given up the faith that their day would come. That they had not struggled in vain for a love that could never be realised. But now he was gone, and Buffy felt as though she had never experienced true pain until now. All the reasons why they could never be together became trivial and unimportant. What world was worth saving if it meant she had to be alone? To Buffy, the only thing that mattered now was Angel, and he was dead. She wept not for the life that could have been, but for the life she now faced alone. A life barren and meaningless. As her tears pelted the earth, she wondered if he had died with a clear soul, one free of the burden of his demon. She prayed he had found his redemption, as he had been hers for so long.
The realisation that Angel was gone hit her once more, like a fist in the face, and she began to scream his name, as if her voice might summon him to her. No one was there to hear her cries, but still she continued on, trying to lessen the pain constricting about her heart. Hoarse, her primal wails filled the silence about her, reverberating off the buildings, and carried across the water and into the night that was quickly falling about the city.
Several city blocks away, Angel was jolted awake; torn from sleep by the sound of his lover screaming.
******
Gasping for air and taking an unneeded breath, Angel stumbled from his bed and made a mad scramble to cover his naked form. He was half dressed before he realised that a dream had woken him, not the actual voice of his ex-girlfriend pleading his name. He slumped half-defeated onto the bed, the sheets rumpled by his fitful slumber. He gave a tired sigh, and massaged his temples with his able fingers. Closing his eyes, her anguished cries resonated in his mind although the dream had vanished. His chest tightened, and his soul felt like a weighted body sinking to the bottom of a murky pond. Bothered, he jumped from the bed and began to pace the length of his room like a caged animal.
It wasn't the dream, itself that had bothered him. Not really. He had come to expect such dreams to haunt his sleep. Conscious memories of the day could only plague him during his waking hours, but this torment knew no bounds, and at night, the memories haunted him in the form of dreams. Normally, he relived his time in the sun with Buffy, revelling in the feel of her warm body yielding softly against his own. His hands tangled in her long locks, as his lips claimed the luscious contours of her mouth, his tongue delving into its sweet mystery. The taste of her, like honeyed roses, danced through him, causing his entire length to harden in response. He would break the kiss long enough for her to moan his name... and he would wake up alone and unsatisfied. But this time, instead of a moan infused with longing and need, she had bawled his name, her voice cracking with woe and remorse. He had pulled back in utter terror, and she had appeared before him only long enough for him to glimpse her bloodshot eyes, devoid of emotion, and lips whitened by grief. She had been so pale, as though teetering on the precipice of death.
And that's when he had started from the nightmare. Still now, her presence could be felt by him. The ache in his soul had sharpened to a raging cacophony, and he glanced at the clock in desperation. The sun should have set by now and it was time he got up anyway he reasoned. Pulling on a sweater he headed out the door towards the beach, all the while trying to convince himself that he simply hadn't patrolled that area in quite some time, having purposely avoided it, brooding purposes excepted. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and that somehow, after so long, she needed him. That she had never stopped needing him.
******
Buffy huddled on the chilly beach. Her body curled into a tight ball, arms locked about her knees as she sat motionless, gave the illusion that she was a lost child waiting for a saviour to take her home. The moonlight enhanced the pallor of her sunken cheeks, and the dark circles beneath her listless eyes, the sparkle having long faded. She stared blankly out into the night, the rippling waves calming her battered sanity. She felt completely drained, having rid her body of all its torment, all its emotion. Now all she felt was an apathetic numbness creeping into the darkest depths of her frame. She felt oddly calm, almost like the way she did after a turbulent storm had ravaged the earth. Everything about her seem so ethereal, and she felt as though her soul had been cleansed, like her tears had managed to wash away the pain.
Closing her eyes, Buffy searched within herself for her source of peace. Automatically, a vision of Angel, as clear as the day he left, materialised within her mind. She mentally traced the contours of his face, stroking his smooth cheeks and trailing the pads of her fingers over his lips. How could he be dead when she could still feel him with her? Her heart leapt as Buffy began to examine her situation from as logical perspective as she could be afforded. Angel was, without a doubt, her soul mate. When they were apart, her insides ached and quivered; together she felt whole. She could sense his presence without ever seeing him, she felt him in her gut. If Angel had actually died in that blast, she would have felt it, felt him die within her. She would have perceived the truth of his death long before any news of it had actually reached her.
Feeling her insides warm, Buffy struggled to her feet. She realised that these thoughts could be leading her down a dead-end path, but she had to try. Maybe she was setting herself up for a fall, but when you had already lost everything there was to lose.Dusting the sand from her clothing, Buffy began to hike back up the beach and into the heart of Los Angeles.
******
Just as her slight form was masked by the blackness of the shadows, Angel emerged from the envelopment of his own. Both were too consumed by their own intense emotions, his panic and hers hope, to pick up on the other's proximity.
He dashed out onto the sand, glancing desperately about him for any sign of her. The dream had been so vivid, more like a portent than the product of a suppressed subconscious. Everything except for reason insisted that she had been here. He walked slowly down the length of the beach towards the spot where she had sat for so long in mourning. As he reached her recently vacated location, he froze as a wave of intense sorrow overtook him. The hair on his arms prickled, and his stomach began to churn. His mind fogged as his senses kicked into overdrive. All doubt vanished from his mind, as he sank slowly to his knees. The remnants of her soul's presence engulfed him. She HAD been here.
His enhanced sense of smell noted immediately the distinct stench of vomit, and the demon in him recognised the familiar scent of blood subtly interwoven. Her blood. He would know her blood anywhere. He jumped at the memories the fragrance of her life's essence stirred within the folds of his mind. He remembered the feel of the salty elixir pumping over his tongue, her life draining from her body into his own, as he drank deeply from the smooth curve of her neck. She had whimpered wildly, dazed by the loss of blood and aroused by their intimate act. Her blood had coursed through his veins, warming his core. He had been so cold for so long.
Angel jerked himself from his reveries as the reality of the situation returned, slicing through his hazy mind. Buffy had been here and been ill. Why? And more importantly, where was she now? He wondered for a moment if she would come to see him, before he remembered that she didn't know where he was. The last time she had visited him, he had been working from their first building. Their first building. The words pounded his skull, as suddenly the skies parted and Angel was struck with a frightening realisation. If Buffy should decide to visit, she would go to the building in which she had last seen him. Having cut all contact with one another, she had never heard about the explosion. How would she react when finding the building in shambles? What conclusions might she draw?
Angel jumped to his feet and ran. He didn't want to give her the opportunity and find out.
*******
Buffy glanced about worriedly, trying her best to recognise any of the all too unfamiliar buildings. One of the bad things, on the long list of many, about L.A. was that one busy street looked an awful lot like every other busy street. It was true that she had lived most of her life in this city, if you ignored the past five years, but even when she had been a native citizen, it's not as though she had been frequenting normal bars, never mind those that catered to demons. Sure the city was known for its seedy underbelly, but amazing as it might seem, up until the day she had been called, Buffy had lived a relatively sheltered life. Still, she knew that there had to be a demon lounge around her somewhere; she remembered Angel telling her as much. It had to be nearby because, when the bar had shown no signs of the Mora demon, she had made her way to the beach in hopes of regrouping and pulling herself together. She had found it once before, there was no reason why she shouldn't find it again. This was just like retracing her steps.
She scrutinized each building as she systematically searched the area for the club, or even a demon who she could "persuade" to give her directions. Silently, she cursed her bad luck: as the Slayer, demons seemed mystically drawn to her, spicing up even the dullest of moments. The one time she actually wanted to find one, she came up short. Just more proof that the Powers loved to mess with the Chosen One. She was not one to be dissuaded once she had taken on a task, and she even managed a smile as she thought that what she really needed right now was Xander. If his demon magnetism didn't get results, then she certainly wasn't going to fare any better!
As her eyes raked over the effervescent, neon signs, she burst with exaltation as she registered the name "Caritas", glowing in a vibrant pink. It certainly seemed familiar, and she was definitely picking up a demon vibe from this joint. Even if it wasn't the same bar as before, it couldn't hurt to check it out. In a state of semi-entrancement, Buffy headed inside the bar, her mind swimming with unanswered questions.
*******
Buffy tentatively entered the club, the high concentration of demons putting her immediately on edge. She had never in all her life seen so many different species of demons, especially not all in the same place at the same time, and as the Slayer that was saying a lot. It was every demon hunter's dream, or nightmare depending on your point of view and your thirst for a fight. She personally was fighting years of training and her natural instinct to slide into combat mode, although the demons here were clearly posing no threat. As Buffy took the time to absorb her surroundings, the sceptical look on her face transformed into one of bemused amazement. Only in L.A. could you ever dream of finding a place like this. Demons were milling about chatting, drinking, dancing, and generally socialising in a bar suffering from a tacky retro motif. Glancing towards the stage, Buffy understood at once that the club's appeal was clearly the karaoke. Just the thought of it was enough to make Buffy cringe.
Her attention was distracted as a slim demon with olive green skin, wearing a white leisure suit approached her. Small read horns protruded from either side of his forehead, matching his dishevelled spiky hair in a bizarre sort of way. Mentally, she sized him up, quickly ascertaining that if necessary she could take him quite easily.
"Well gorgeous, haven't seen you around these parts before," the demon flirted smoothly, his eyes locking with Buffy's as if searching for something. "While my club is certainly upscale as far as demon bars go," he continued, "what's a classy thing like you doing in a place like this? Not that I mind of course."
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to discretely roll her eyes. Being hit on by a demon was certainly a new experience, unless you took "hit on" in a very literal sense, but really, it felt just as awkward as a normal guy sniffing about for some action.
"Look," Buffy stated evenly, only thinly veiling the exasperation and menace in her voice, "I'm sure you're a really nice, whatever you are, but I'm really not in the mood. I'm looking for someone. A vampire," she added pointedly, " and I thought I might be able to get some information on his whereabouts here."
The Host gazed at the blonde girl trying to get some kind of concrete reading on her. She had caught his eye as soon as she had entered his establishment. He had never seen her before in his life, a face like hers he would remember, but something about her was strangely familiar. The glow of energy that encompassed her was practically blinding to anyone astute enough to notice it. While she appeared human and mortal, her aura was incredibly strong and very difficult to decipher. He could feel pain and desperation resonating from her, but also untapped power and pure good as well. The same could be seen in her eyes; eyes that looked as though they had seen too much for a girl so young. She couldn't be a day past 20, and yet her eyes were incredibly old although they flashed with life. Concentrating on her clear blue eyes, he noted that she stared back at him with equal vigour, obviously undaunted by his searching looks or the fact that she really didn't fit in here. She tilted her chin in defiance at him and her mouth hardened as she cocked an eyebrow, tiring of his scrutiny.
"Sweetheart, I'm not quite sure what to make of you," he smiled at her as he lifted a drink to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. "Most girls would take one look, see what you have, and get the heck out of here."
"Yeah, well, I'm not 'most girls'," Buffy countered.
"I never said you were, darling. Never said you were. I can see by those flashes of spirit in your eyes, that you're quite sassy, and I like that in a person. I'd love to help you out, but as you can see," he said as he swept an arm towards the microphone on stage, "I don't make a living by ratting out my clientele. Most of them aren't shy, but unless you're here to offer one of them a record contract, my lips are sealed. By the way, honey, " he added, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and winking, "my take's 15%."
What was it with these non-committal demons? Judging by the way most of them avoided giving straight answers, you would think that that was actually the secret to killing them rather than actual violence!
Buffy shrugged the demon's hand from her body and began to head for the door. She was upset. Not entirely with this demon, but also with herself, as she realised that her quest was Angel was turning into a near impossible ordeal. "I'm really sorry I wasted your time and mine. For once, just once, I wish the Powers could cut me some slack." she muttered as she trudged away.
The Powers? What did this girl know about the Powers?
".You'd think that they'd want to keep the Slayer happy. After all, I am doing their bidding. Is a little communication that much to ask?"
This little thing was the Slayer? The Host felt his composed demeanour falter as he realised he had just turned away the Powers' most fierce and loyal warrior. If she had resorted to searching night clubs for information, her cause had to be very important. It wasn't everyday he stood in the presence of greatness.
"Hey, wait!" he cried out to her, trying to stall her and find out what she wanted. "I only said that I didn't make a living by recounting my patrons' deepest and darkest secrets. That doesn't mean I don't know them, and that also doesn't mean that I can't know yours. I'd be willing to trade, if the cause was right."
Buffy froze, and turned slowly about to face the Host. "I'm listening," she forced out, "but I'm not in the mood to play games. If you've got something to say that will help me, say it. Otherwise, just consider yourself lucky that I don't put you permanently out of business."
"Whoa! Cool your jets, sweetheart! I'm more in the habit of liberating souls than I am of weighting them down. You seem like you've got a lot on your mind, and your soul. Whatever you're searching for, the answer's already inside you. You're probably just too caught up in your own suffering to see it. But I can."
"Wh-what are you talking about?" Buffy asked, confused and a little scared. This guy was beginning to act like a creepy old man who was about to ask you to sit on his lap.
"I'm a seer for the Powers. If a body is willing, I can read a soul if presented in its purest form. Destiny, hopes, fears, life's answers. all is engraved upon one's soul. I can give you the answers for which you search. All you've got to do is sing."
"WHAT? Why? Sing?" Buffy said horrified, wondering if this was all some cruel practical joke, "I don't sing."
"Don't or won't?" asked the Host, bemused by her violent reaction. "Trust me, a looker like you has nothing to worry about. Even if you're tone deaf, most of the people, and I use that term loosely, will be too busy focusing on your other attributes to notice." He paused to determine whether or not he had convinced her. He hadn't. "How can this vampire you're searching for be that important if he's not worth singing for? Give him enough time and I'm sure he'll leave a nice trail of bodies and gaping neck wounds to lead you to him."
Buffy narrowed her eyes and strove to keep her clenched fists at her side. She could tell that he was just trying to goad her into singing, but no one spoke about Angel in such a callous manner.
"How can you be so flippant? All I'm asking for is a little co-operation. You don't need to divulge any nitty gritty details, all I'm asking is if you've seen one vampire."
"Honey, I've seen more than one. Let me guess, is he pale with an aversion to the sun? You're going to have to be a little more specific."
"This one's special. If you've met him, you'd remember. He's definitely not your average vampire. His name's Angel.."
"Angel? You mean Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Rocking?" the Host asked Buffy incredulously watching her eyes light up as he showed recognition. "I know Angel. He's the vampire with soul." He smirked, enjoying Buffy's obviously confused expression.
"I guess you could say that. I mean, he has a soul," she said carefully, trying to make her words as easily understood as possible. Maybe this was a bad idea. This guy seemed nice enough but slightly unstable. in the mental capacity.
"Oh no, you should have heard him belt out 'Mandy'. He was nervous as heck, but man, every ounce of a soul he has, he put into that song. Can't sing worth a dime, but that's not really the point of karaoke, now is it?"
Buffy was completely speechless. Angel, singing? This didn't make any sense. Her heart sank as she understood that she had been wasting her time. Angel may not be a popular name in the vampire community, but she and this demon were obviously not talking about the same vamp. Her Angel spent all his time brooding, and speaking as little as possible, even putting Oz to shame at times. He wouldn't sing, in front of people no less, under any circumstances.
"I'm sorry," she began, "but I think there's been a misunderstanding. I really have to get going. I'm sure you have a busy night ahead of you, so if you don't mind, I'll just go look for Angel on my own."
The Host saw the pain in her eyes and his heart broke. She was the Slayer sure, but he knew in his soft heart that she had no plans to hurt Angel. When he had mentioned his name, he had felt her fall into a serene trance, almost like the way a lover would when her beloved was mentioned. A slight smile had curved on her lips, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. The clear blue of her eyes had become hazy with an unreadable emotion, but it looked awfully familiar to desire and adoration. Suddenly he understood why this girl had felt familiar to him. He had read a soul like hers before, and it had belonged to Angel. It was funny that during all his time as a seer for the Powers, he rarely met soulmates. The few he had met, usually never found one another, and if they did, they never felt anywhere near as connected as these two did. Twin souls, separated only by physical bodies, a bond impossible to ignore.
He smiled kindly at the Slayer, taking sympathy on her plight. "Here's the deal, honey. I don't need to read your soul to see you search for love. While I can't tell you where Angel is, I can give you the name of a good hotel where you can rest up before finding your answers. When you find him, and I know you will, you'll want to be strong." He smiled and scrawled an address on the back of a business card he had retrieved from his breast pocket. Seeing she was about to protest, he handed her the card and silenced her with his words, "Go and rest. If there are any questions when you get there, tell the guy that the Host sent you and he owes me a favour. Stay there, and that way if I see Angel before you get a chance, I can tell him where you're staying."
Touched by his generosity, Buffy nodded gratefully and turned to leave Caritas. The sun would be rising soon, so she wasn't likely to find Angel roaming the streets.
"Oh Buffy," the Host said as an afterthought, as she turned at the sound of her name, "forget what I said about the trail of dead bodies leading you to your vampire. When it comes to Angel, your soul will lead you to him."
She smiled softly, and walked out into the warming night in the direction of the address he had given her. She was a block away before she realised that she had never told the Host her name.
*******
Angel's shoulders slumped in defeat as he trudged slowly away from the wreckage that was his former office building. He had never run with so much desperation in his entire life, or unlife for that matter, but still it appeared that he was too late. The scene of this devastation was as barren and lifeless as it had been over a year ago, and Buffy was nowhere to be seen. At first Angel had thought that maybe he had beat her to the scene, but as minutes slid into hours, he knew he was too late.
The street was the perfect model of absolute silence. Faint breezes whisked the settlements of dust into miniature tornadoes, as Angel stared brokenly at his feet. His skin buzzed with the swill of emotions that lay in this place. Though it was ever fading, he felt the current of her presence here receding like the night into morning. She had been here, to feel the stench of death alone. He knew what she must have believed on seeing the status of his old building. He couldn't expect her to know, as he did, that the bond they shared was beyond reason and death. She couldn't possibly realise that if he had really been killed in that explosion, that she would feel it. Grief would blind someone so young, to the powerful unity that they shared. He had no way to find her, no way to make her see that he still existed for her, and her alone.
He could smell daybreak on the rise, and quickened his pace instinctively. Maybe it was better this way. After all, she did have Riley now. Clearly she had moved on, like he had told her to, but God, it hurt so much! It was moments like this that made redemption seem impossible, and practically worthless. He knew that buried deep within him were reasons other than Buffy that inspired him to seek redemption, but she was essentially all he wanted and needed. The thought of her with another man, loving another man and letting him touch her, drove him insane with fear and jealousy. It frightened him to think that she could share what they once had with another, that her feelings for him could so easily be transferred to. that boy. Anger boiled over in Angel's stomach at the thought of Riley and Buffy together, their bodies fusing together, in an act so intimate that his demon threatened to take charge. No one could ever love her like he did, but he had to accept that she wasn't his to love any longer. If he flattered his battered ego just enough to believe that Riley had been a ruse, he could also think with lessened pain that this could be catalyst Buffy had required to fully separate herself from him, and truly move forward in her life. As his life spiralled into darkness, he found minimal comfort in the belief that finally Buffy would have some sunshine sprinkled on hers.
Sighing, Angel extracted a ring of keys from his pocket and silently let himself into the darkened hotel that he now called his home. Pulling off his black duster, he threw it haphazardly onto one of the couches in the lobby and started the painful walk of a forlorn lover up the stairs to his bedroom. The way he was feeling, he hoped that for once he would be blessed with a dreamless sleep, as he knew that dreams of Buffy would be too much. Reminders of what he wanted so dearly, but could not ever have again.
*******
The door swung open silently, and Buffy was unsure as to whether or not that was a good sign. At least the building hadn't been condemned. She creeped through the lobby, the only noise, her heels clicking on the marble tiles. She squinted her eyes as she surveyed the reception area before her. A tepid pot of coffee sat on a shelf, no doubt leaving dark stains in its wake. She noticed that there was no log on the main desk to record the names of the guests of the hotel, and the only computer she could spot was a laptop resting on the top of a grey filing cabinet. If this was a hotel, it was a badly organised one.
Her eyes rested on the disarray of books that lay scattered about the back, and she trembled. It would not be unseemly for a hotel to have light reading material scattered about the lobby for its patrons, but these looked a lot like the books Giles kept in his extensive demonology collection. She moved towards the volumes and tried to read the title of the battered spine. The Echelon Chronicles. Curious, she flipped through the pages, her blood running cold as gruesome images of demons and hell gods swam before her eyes. Replacing the book, she picked up another title. Bristow's Demon Index. As she sifted through the texts strewn about, she felt her pulse quicken and a slightly sick feeling entered her stomach. If there were bars for demons, did that mean that there were also hotels for them as well? All this time, she had though most scourge were happy with a dank crypt or a sewer at best.
She backed away from the reception desk and headed towards the door. It wasn't wise for her to stay here. She was certain the Host had meant her no harm, but as a Slayer, it was best to avoid situations with volatile outcomes. She froze as she noted a dark form collapsed on one of the sofas. It wasn't moving, or breathing. Mentally chastising herself, Buffy slowly walked towards the form, and had to stifle a foolish laugh as she realised it was only a jacket somebody had left behind. In the moonlight, it looked just like the jackets that he had used to wear.
Pausing, Buffy rubbed the material of the jacket between her fingers, before holding it out before her calculating its size. It certainly appeared to be the exact same cut as the one he had worn, and it seemed broad enough in the shoulders for his muscular build. Succumbing to a more basic instinct, Buffy buried her face in the jacket allowing its soft darkness to act as a shield to the fading night. She inhaled deeply, the smell triggering memories that refused to be forgotten, whisking her back to a happier time. Eyes closed, she reveled in the ancient feeling of her cheek pressed hard against his chest, his arms cradling her to him. His musk encircled her, lulling her senses into a tender submission. The warmth of his spicy scent more than made up for his lack of body heat.
Choking on the memories, Buffy threw the coat onto the couch and wildly searched the room for him. She had felt him there with her, as she had nuzzled that black duster. None of this made any sense. Why had the Host sent her to a hotel that was clearly out of business that now housed an impressive library of mythical works and Angel's jacket? As Buffy's tired mind began to piece together everything that she had come to discover, she noticed stairs out of the corner of her eye. Panic reeled in her chest as she ran for them, scrambling to find her lover. Never in her life had she been more scared that her intuition would lead her astray, that she was deluding herself into believing something simply because she wanted it so badly. Part of her implored the rest of her to stop and turn back before she trampled her own dreams, and faced rejection once more. But she was determined, and on shaky legs Buffy skimmed her delicate hand along the dimly lit corridor fearing both that the muffled pounding of her feet on the aged carpeting would wake him, but also that it wouldn't because he was not there.
Lost, she stopped and turned in the maze of hallways that stemmed within the hotel. Desperate tears slid down her cheeks, nails digging into the palms of her hands as she commanded herself not to scream his name. He might not be the only thing lurking in this building, and she didn't want to create any more problems than were already present. The words of the Host shot through her mind, and she smiled weakly. Let her soul lead her. Steadying herself with a deep breath, Buffy set her soul free allowing it to roam the deserted hallways of the building, tugging her towards him. Clearing her mind of all thoughts but him, Buffy walked slowly, her breathing calm and even. Her body was positively humming, a sensation growing stronger with each step. She quelled her urge to run, and lost herself in the moment. She felt as though his fingers were dancing over her sensitised flesh, taunting her with sensual promises of things to come. She could hear the blood pumping through her body, a rhythmic and driving pulse, as Angel flashed into her mind once more. Her breathing quickened, and her knees were beginning to buckle. He was so near that Buffy wanted to blurt out the incoherent musings of her unleashed soul as she spiraled higher and higher.
Her hand made contact with a smooth wooden door, and Buffy opened her eyes. She could feel his essence throbbing through the material and into her. Buffy bit her lip as she moved her hand towards the knob, genuinely frightened of what she might not find on the other side. Narrowing her eyes, she clenched her hand about it and quietly opened the door.
******
Buffy's breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on his sleeping form in the silent chamber. His smooth chest was exposed to the night, his only covering his bed sheets which were tangled about his, one would assume, naked torso. He thrashed about feverishly, much like he had when struck by Faith's poison arrow and succumbed to the mind altering effects of the deadly toxin. A cool sheen of sweat crept across his body as whimpered moans escaped his lips.
Buffy dashed to his side, unable to distance herself from him any longer. She placed a clammy hand on his taut shoulder, the effects of her touch immediately visible. All tension evaporated and the thrashing died down, like rocky waves against the shore. Buffy longed to press her body against his, wanting to revel in the safety his body offered, his soul cushioning her own. With her near, he seemed so peaceful, and Buffy reconsidered waking him. She thought of all the times she had woken during the night to the feel of his eyes caressing her. As she slept, he would watch over her, protecting her from the demons of the night, keeping her safe. She wondered how he had been able to sit and watch but not touch her, the magnetism between them too strong to ignore.
Tears of happiness trailed down her cheeks as she watched him and her soul swelled. Bending her head she brushed her lips across his cheek. As she made contact, a smouldering fire ignited in the pit of her stomach and she unknowingly let out a loving sigh. Losing herself in his proximity, Buffy threw all caution to the wind and flung her arms about trying to assuage the aching loneliness about her. Her tears fell freely onto his smooth skin, as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. The glistening pools of water created rivulets as they started a slow foray down his length.
Angel's mind swam through the hazy fog of slumber breaking the surface abruptly as his body was enveloped in a comforting warmth. His soul soared upwards to the heavens, uniting with its mate, and shattering the boundaries of pure bliss. As the fog about his brain cleared, he registered her shaking body cradling his own. Eyes closed, he knew it was her. No oth§џџџ ўџџџўџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџer woman could feel so warm, so right to him. Passion and need curled seductively in his stomach, as her slight trembling sent waves of shock spiraling through his body tightening in response to her presence. Curling into her, he sprawled a protective arm about her, binding her to his side. He nuzzled her soft hair, a smile of utter contentment forming on his lips.
Buffy moaned and rained tender kisses, bursting with affection, over his smiling face. He lips sought his, as she settled into his loving embrace. Her hands danced over his skin, and Angel's eyes fluttered open drinking in the endless love that shone in his soulmate's face. He groaned, he clasped her closer, rolling her onto her back. Her fingers mingled with the brown spikes of hair, softened by sleep. He nipped at her neck, tickling her throat, a growl reverberating in his chest. Buffy giggled and pulled back, breaking the gaiety of the moment.
Gazing deeply into her beloved's rich brown eyes, voice trembling she whispered, "I thought I had lost you."
Angel traced a gentle finger across her creamy jaw, tilting her face to his. "Buffy, please don't cry. All that matters is that we're both safe, and we're together." Angel felt as though his heart was shattering for the second time that day. He couldn't stand to see Buffy upset, and it hurt all the more because he knew he was the source of her pain. Holding her in his arms, made the truth of their situation that much more difficult to accept. He knew what he had to do.
Pulling himself from her grasp, he propped himself up on his elbow. "Buffy, this can't."
Pressing a slender finger to his lips, Buffy effectively shushed his arguments. She had known all along that convincing Angel would not be an easy task, but she was intent on making him see the light. "Angel," she countered, a slight smile forming on her lips, " please don't say another word. I'm finished feeling sorry for myself, I've decided to be proactive. You can't know how it felt to think I'd lost you forever, to believe I would never feel your arms around me or see your eyes light up, even if temporarily. How am I supposed to go on with my life alone, knowing what once was?
"I remember everything Angel, and when I think that your heart might never beat again, I feel like mine will stop as well. I know more than anything that I can't live without you. You are my heart, my soul, and my world. If can't have you, then I don't have anything. It's my job to fight the good fight, but I've come to see that it's my purpose to fight for us. How can we have fought for so long for one another only to give up?
"You once told me that you waited your entire life for me, and I'm willing to do the same. Only I won't live forever. Please Angel, don't make us waste any more time than we already have. Let us spend this lifetime together."
The beauty and truth of her words struck home with Angel, and he pulled her close, never wanting to let her go. Maybe he was weak, but he needed her.
"Buffy, there's still the curse."
"Don't worry about it. We'll find a way around it." She smiled up at him, and Angel felt as though his entire existence had been leading up to this one moment. Looking deep into Buffy's eyes, he found all the love and acceptance that any man could ever hope to know.
Holding her close, a peaceful silence filtered into the room. Angel held tenderly stroked her hair, as Buffy nestled her face into the curve of his body. Neither spoke as if fearing they might break the spell of the moment. As they began to drift slowly off to sleep, Buffy brought her lips to his and mumbled, "Angel, did you lose that kitchen table in the explosion?"
His shocked expression filled her heart with joy, and peals of laughter rang from the bedroom, filling the darkest corners of the Hyperion with life. It was the laughter of a life to come, and a future bright with what would be.
Send feedback to lil_oracle
Back to the Fanfiction Archive 1 2 : ; П Р Щ Ъ б в г д е + , < = Q R S T Х Ц Ч Ч Ч Ч Ч$ Ч, Ч4 Ч< ЧD ЧL ЧT Ч\ Чd Чl Чt Ч| Ч Ч Ч Ч ЧЄ ЧЌ ЧД §ћљїѕѓёяэыщчхуспнлйзегбЯЭЫЩЧХУСПНЛЙЗЕГБЏЋЉЇЅЃЁ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] 8ЧД ЧМ ЧФ ЧЬ Чд Чм Юн Zс [с у у ц Ўц ы ы №я ёя Vё Wё aё bё 6ѓ 7ѓ =і >і ј ј pћ qћ § § ў ў яџ №џ M N T U ; < ж з § ў n o p §ћљїѕѓёяэыщчхуспнлйзегбЯЭЫЩЧХУСПНЛЙЗЕГБЏЋЉЇЅЃЁ U] U] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] 7 № ё ђ G H I ] ^ ќљіѓ№эъчх ] U] U] U] U] U] U] U] U] 2 ; Р Ъ в д е , = R S T Ц Ч ё ђ H I ^ § ћ љ ї ѕ ѓ ё я э ы щ ч х у с п н л й з е г б Я Э Ы ^ ^ W џџџџ џџџџ! K @ёџ Normal a " A@ђџЁ " Default Paragraph Font а џ@ ўџ џџџџ Р F Microsoft Word 6.0 Document MSWordDoc є9Вq