Disclaimer: Joss and co own them and wrote "Reprise" and the rest of the episodes of "Angel" and "BtVS"
Rating: PG. 15
Author's Notes: this idea came to me right after seeing the episode. Even though I've been non-stop writing today, I thought I should write it down right away. Sorry if you've been bombarded with messages from me today!
Summary: I re-wrote the end of "Reprise". What if it wasn't Darla waiting for Angel when he got back?
SPOILERS: for "I Was Made to Love You" and "Reprise"
Feedback: PLEASE! You know I live off of it...and I will do my damndest to reply!
POV: yes, Buffy's damnit. I have a sickness.I need help!

It's so dark in here. The shadows play on the walls and look like clouds. I'm curled in a ball in the corner. Where I can see the entire room and it can see me. My eyes are empty. Dry and burning. I feel as if glass has coated my cornea. I blink but no blood seeps into my vision. I wish there was. Maybe it would evidence that something has happened to me.

It smells like him in here. I should have known it would. For a moment I thought about lying down on the bed. The duvet was rumpled. My flesh hurt and I wanted to just burrow down and let my belly open up with sobs. But it felt so personal. And I wasn't sure if he'd like it. I'm not even sure he'll like me being here.

The door opens. He walks in and is still. His shoulders are hunched and weary. Has he had a hard night? Fighting demons? That's fine. So have I. I can almost see his face as he tries to figure out what about this room isn't right. "Buffy."

He said my name. That doesn't make me feel better. So I haven't disappeared. So this isn't just a nightmare. It makes me feel worse. I make a noise. He turns and looks down at me. His eyes glint in the dim light and there is no sympathy in them. "What?"

What? Oh.nothing. I just found my mother dead.but I suppose it isn't anything that can't wait. My throat works, but I find my vocal cords are so twisted and heavy that I can't utter a sound and he grabs me by my arm, hauling me upwards. "What the hell are you doing here?" he growls and his skin is so cold.

Why can't I say anything? Why can't I cry. why can't I just say his name? My chest is so sore that I want to rub it. I guess my heart is breaking up in little pieces, cutting up my insides. Blood will be running out of my pores any second. The thought makes me almost laugh. He shakes me and I see his teeth gleam. He's not happy with my visit. "Buffy? Answer me, damnit! What do you want?"

I'm limp against him. With a snarl of disgust, he throws me down and I feel my head knock against the floor. It doesn't feel like anything. That should worry me but it doesn't. He looks blurry as I loll back with bones that are close to snapping and watch him loom over me. "I don't have time for this." he mutters angrily, and his tone is so dead that it scares me. "I don't have time for you. What happened Buff? Your boyfriend dump you? Sleep with someone again? What is it?"

Curling up, I draw my knees to my chest and try and block him out. God, my ears are roaring. All I can see are her eyes.dead, dead eyes.staring, staring but seeing nothing.

But he won't have it. He yanks me up again, flush against him and his hands are in my hair, pulling my head back so he can look at me. For a moment he is still. "You're so warm." he murmurs and his fingers delve into my contours. I can feel my breathing getting shallow. "I don't want to be cold anymore. you're the only one who can make me warm." he tells me and it sounds like ramblings. It doesn't sound like Angel. I needed him to be strong for me.why isn't he strong for me? Why isn't he like he was.? My head hits the wall as he shakes me again.

"Say something damnit." he growls, louder, into my hair and he rubs his cheek against mine. His is like ice. I know I'm burning up. Maybe I have a fever. Maybe I'll die. "Buffy.what the hell is wrong with you?"

Doesn't he know? Can't he guess? Isn't he supposed to be the one that knows me.above all else.the one that knows me best? Doesn't he see it in my eyes.the reflection.doesn't it have her in it.lying prone and awkward, her gaze at the ceiling one of frozen time.? Angel.why do you have to be this way.at a time like this?? I feel the tears welling and brimming and silently, they begin to flow from my eyes.

Angel is kissing me. Softly. But now it's hard and he wants me. I can feel it. I'm choking on my sobs and his tongue. He tastes the salt and stops suddenly. His thumbs rub my eyes and he rears back. "What happened Buffy? Tell me."

"I foun-found her.when I.there were flowers-from.found her."

Is that me? Garbled and muffled? Gagging even as I say the words.no, I can't say this out loud. It'll make it real. His grip on me loosens and I think I will have some bruises patching my skin tomorrow. Tomorrow.and the day after that, and the day after that.

"Mommy." I wail suddenly. His arms lift me up and he carries me into the bedroom. Pressing my wet red face against his shoulder, I feel the tears burning their way down my neck and scalding my chest.

Sitting down, he cradles me on his lap. He's so big. I'm so tiny. His hands fit around my face and he looks me in the eyes. "What happened?"

I take a breath and it hurts my lungs. "Found her." I sob and my hands push into my stomach. It wants to heave but I can't let it. "On the couch.found my Mom.dead.Angel.Angel she's dead.my Mommy's dead."

"Oh, God." he whispers and then his fingers sweep down my back and he pulls me tight. "Love.I'm here."

My eyes stream with the useless tears and sorrow as he holds me and I crush him with my arms. I cry out for my mother and for him and my voice is keening and like a scream. He rubs my stomach and my hair and presses kisses to my sweaty forehead. He holds my hair back as I throw up, he forces me to drink hot tea with whiskey. He puts me to bed and stays with me all night.

I don't sleep. But I can feel his hands resting on my skin and it makes me feel safe. Woozily I wonder what the morning will bring. For now, I'm here and he's here and we're in the darkness of his room. Sharing the darkness together. He doesn't say anything all night. Just lets me feel he's there, around me and against me.

Maybe he does still know me after all.

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