E-MAIL: Ciderbreak@aol.com
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon and the WB own all BTVS characters. No infringement implied.
DISCLAIMER: Who says you have to finish one fic before beginning another? *g*
SPOILERS: Season 4 Buffy, Season 1 Angel. Doyle remains alive, as he should.
SUMMARY: W/A, like you've never seen them before.
FEEDBACK: If you love me. Which you might not when you read this.
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Angel's head howled with the sound of Buffy's best friend screaming. Her wails incessantly keened over the driving rain. She wouldn't shut up and grasped her head in her hands with her bloody fingers digging into her scalp as though she could dig in and physically remove the pain. She'd already lost control of her bodily functions and the acrid scent of urine mingled with the steamy Los Angeles rain to turn Angel's stomach. There was no blood left to vomit since he'd retched four times over the side of the building that seemed to shake and quiver like a battered ship on a stormy ocean. In fact, the air around them shivered with silver shards of supernatural evil that would not cease. It rolled their stomachs, forced them both supine on the hard tar rooftop, wreaked havoc with their central nervous system, and sent pain like railroad spikes through their skulls.
Angel's true visage could not be put away to reveal his human face. He expended too much energy to keep from sobbing like a baby. The searing pain was equal to everything he'd experienced in Hell and more, coupled with the unfortunate fact that he was awake and very conscious of his soul.
It seemed brighter than before, his soul, and he wondered if that was what was keeping the air so painfully thick, trapping them in a twisted vortex on the roof of his apartment building. Maybe he'd been lax with the people-saving lately. Shirked a few of his duties. Admittedly, he was not happy that Willow had been the courier from Sunnydale with the document he needed from Giles to solve a case. The former Watcher had all but promised that Buffy would be the one to hand-carry the ancient manuscript to Los Angeles and instead he was saddled for four days with the red-headed witch and her sunny disposition. He'd been very grumbly about that.
But a litany of his most recent sins could still not match the lifetimes of death he'd exalted in while he was Angelus, and that was the only plausible explanation. The Power That Be were exacting their final vengeance against him, no grace allowed.
Fine. He could take that.
At this point, he'd prefer a sunrise than the continuation of this purgatory.
It made no sense. All they were on the roof to do was a simple cleansing spell, needed because of a very gooey encounter with a Baylick ghoul. Business as usual. Willow offered to be the second for the spell and almost looked cute when she furrowed her brow over the Latin text. He couldn't bring himself to have the full thought of "cute" ; somehow that word didn't fit with the text, which included the word "eviscerate…." Angel remembered clasping Willow's hand in his own for the incantation and that was all he knew as the heavens opened stinging rain down on them and a shimmering prison surrounded them. At first, it was like being in a wind tunnel where the wind took form and cut them in ribbons. Then they were knocked to the ground, devoid of basic motor functions, humiliated by their own bodies and drenched by the rain.
For no reason.
Willow's screams finally pierced his simple introspection and he used his strength to pull himself over to where she lay soaked with rain and blood, strands of her red hair clumped together between her fingers. It was hard to move with some unseen force pushing down on his back to squeeze the nonexistent air out of his lungs. Underneath his thin gray sweater he felt his belly scrape against gravel and bits of broken glass. Still, he managed to worm his pale hand over her open mouth and press down hard. If they survived this she'd have bruises around her mouth, but he couldn't stand her bellowing any more.
She looked at him angrily and bit down on the flesh of his palm. Angel furiously held her gaze and let her draw blood. She could tear all the skin off his palm with her blunt teeth and it would still feel like a nip from an agitated puppy compared to the dizziness and agony he suffered. He didn't care.
It took him a moment to realize that Willow's teeth were firmly embedded in his hand and that she wasn't letting go- she was suckling like a baby. They realized it at the same time. Willow's eyes grew wide, but she didn't release. Blood coursed from him past her lips to burn copper down her throat and with each swallow her guttural cries sounded less like pain and more like pleading.
< More. Please, give me more. >
Angel heard her voice in his head clearly, as if the rain was replaced by a quiet, starless night. She was licking at his wounded hand now, whimpering for more blood because with each taste of his lifeless elixir the pain lessened.
He tried to reason that and failed. She rolled over on her side and punched him in the gut, which knocked the wind out of him. Her eyes flashed fury and searched wildly for some bit of flesh that showed. Angel was truly frightened by her hunger, despite the fact that it seemed to diminish their torment. She was reacting so rashly, so instinctively, like a newborn child with its mother… only a tad more violent.
His hesitation brought a new wave of pain, this time paralyzing him from the waist down. He managed to rip his sweater from neck to belly, revealing bruised skin from when they were first thrown into this horrid tailspin. With a growl, Angel tore his hand away from her mouth and cupped the back of her neck. He reached around her with his other hand, grasping for purchase at the small of her back. He only met her watery green eyes for a second before jerking her callously against him and pressing her face to his neck.
Willow scraped his chest with her teeth and finally bit down over his collarbone, purposefully skipping the jugular vein. Sweet relief was theirs as long as she drew his blood inside of her. The paralysis left and she brazenly pulled him on top of her to help gravity along. His weight was much more pleasant than that awful pressure from before.
Angel opened his eyes with their wet lashes and thought he saw the strange silver shards sway and open, then disappear completely. Instantly, the need to feed welled up in him stronger than it had ever been, even when he was Angelus and touted as the scourge of Europe. He sank his fangs into Willow's temple where the blood would flow faster and took one long, satisfying pull of blood from her willing body. She slid her arms around him and sucked as hard as she could with her tired jaw.
With a ghostly cry, the evil vanished. The rain held up, though, and Angel immediately scrambled off of Willow, horrified that he'd fed from her. He stood above her, straddling her legs with his booted feet and tried to think of something to say.
Willow lay in a bloody puddle mixed with rain and helplessly looked up at him, humility and fear in her eyes.
"What happened?" she croaked out. Angel surreptitiously licked every available trace of her blood from the recesses of his mouth. It was all too much, no explanation, no rhyme or reason, no answers.
"Don't know. Can you stand?"
Willow slowly rose to her knees and rested there for a minute before accepting his outstretched hand. He pulled her to her feet and steadied her, wondering if she was going to throw up again.
"I'm fine," she slurred, her eyes on his neck. Not with hunger this time, but with revulsion. Angel watched the confusion dance across her tired face. "What the fuck?" she whispered under her breath.
"Exactly," Angel agreed. "Twelve steps to the door. We can make it."
Willow whined in protest, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Every part of her ached and not one part felt like walking, much less maneuvering all those stairs. But of course she did, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as though they were her first toddling steps. Angel didn't have much more balance than she did and they held hands for leverage.
It was a miracle that they made it back down to Angel's apartment. Neither one of them spoke. They just sat at the kitchen table and looked at each other with glassy eyes. The need to rest and get cleaned up was superceded by the burning knowledge that something very significant had happened on the roof that would change their lives forever.
If only they knew what it was.
End Part 1
When Willow woke up, she smelled scrambled eggs. She also heard a sizzling that could only be bacon and her mouth watered, imagining toast as well. Toast would be great, biscuits would be better. She sat up and wiped sleep from her eyes, stretching her aching back. Muscles she didn't know existed throbbed in protest. Looking down, she noticed she was naked but clean and dry. That was a vast improvement on how she'd fallen asleep in a complete mess underneath the kitchen table.
Now she was in Angel's bed, tucked into the crisp navy blue sheets. Her many wounds were dressed with gauze and bandaids of every shape and size, and as Willow examined herself she figured she had just about every style of bandage invented covering one part or another. Still, there might be biscuits, an excellent reason to get out of bed.
She found a black silk robe and slipped into it, tying the sash tightly around her waist. It was a little large on her but she rolled the sleeves up and looked around for her own clothing, but it was nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown out, which was pretty much all that could be done with the muck and bloodstains. She padded into the kitchen area on bare feet and smiled at Angel at the stove. He was cooking eggs, and bacon, and there was a tall pile of buttermilk biscuits on a paper plate on the table. Amen.
"You'll be hungry," he announced, not turning around. Willow took a seat at the formica and chrome-banded table and helped herself to a biscuit.
"Good morning, Angel," she replied saucily. "How do you know?"
"Because I was ravenous."
Willow chewed thoughtfully and reached for the honey. No sense wasting the first one waiting for the eggs to be ready.
"How long have I been asleep? A day?"
"A week," Angel replied. "I woke up two days ago. I can't believe you slept through us cleaning you up," he added, finally turning around and putting a bowl of scrambled eggs with cheese and broccoli on the table. Willow was surprised to see that he did not look happy to see her awake and alive. In fact, if she thought about it, he looked downright mean.
Her breakfast was the first priority, and Angel was right, she was uncommonly starving.
"Am I okay?" she asked around a mouthful of eggs. They were spiced just right; salt, pepper, a little curry to spice things up.
"No infection, no broken bones, just cuts and bruises. And some nightmares. You don't remember?"
"No, thank God. All I remember is that awful spell going awry, as usual, and me deciding that Evil Willow should come out and play. I'm- I'm not a vampire, am I? 'Cause there was that whole sucking-of-the-blood thing. But-scrambled eggs!"
"You're not a vampire. I don't know what you are."
Willow paused, her fork not rising to her mouth, and looked at him. He still looked pissed off.
"Angel, what's going on?"
He scraped his chair back from the table and cast a very nasty look at her before muttering "nothing" and leaving the kitchen. Willow mocked the nasty look at his retreating back and spoke underneath her breath.
"Fine, be all 'morning person'. I'm going to have another biscuit."
Willow washed the breakfast dishes and covered the leftovers with aluminum foil before going over to where Angel was reading a book.
"You'll have to borrow some of my clothes," he said, barely looking up. "I burned everything you were wearing."
Willow grabbed his book and angrily tossed it aside. To her amazement, the book went flying across the room, hit a picture frame, and knocked it to the ground.
"Woah!" she exclaimed, hating the Keanu Reeves reaction. Yet, there was no other way to respond to the weird strength that had just exhibited itself. And wait… was that strength, or anger that made the book fly?
Angel grabbed her hands and squeezed none too gently.
"Watch it, witch."
"How come that sounds like an insult?" Willow retorted.
"Maybe because it is." Angel dropped her hands, pushed her aside roughly, and started pacing the floor. "All I wanted to do was a simple cleansing spell, and the Powers That Be decided to reward me for my acts of service by bonding me to you for the rest of my life. I can do anything I want with you- travel in sunshine, eat human food, mate- everything a human can do. In time I'll probably have a fucking heartbeat. They purged all kinds of darkness out of our souls- that's what the pain was all about, and the evil you could practically taste? Our evil. Our inner demons, so to speak, manifested upon us threefold. And then you claimed me and all was lost. And now I'm stuck with you. Forever."
Willow laughed nervously and bit her lip.
"Uh, Angel? What do you mean, stuck with me? And the forever part-I'm human, last I checked, and-"
Angel whirled around and grabbed the back of her head, tugging on her hair so she'd look at him. He could sense her adrenaline rise in fear, and hated himself for the scared look that came into her eyes. Unfortunately, he didn't hate himself enough to really care.
"You're not human. You never were. There's always been a little bit of the supernatural in you, witch, and thanks to the Powers, I don't think you're going to die at 80 surrounded by friends and family. You're going to watch everyone you love die before you. Your children, your precious friends, your parents- you'll outlive everyone except me. Can't die without me. Can't go anywhere without me."
Willow was very afraid. This voice sounded for all the world like Angelus and yet there was such pain, such grief in his eyes. She didn't know what to think except that he was hurting her and not telling the truth. Why would the Powers bond *her* with Angel instead of Buffy?
"Angel, let me go. You're hurting me."
"Am I?" he drawled.
Willow wouldn't stand for his attitude anymore. She stomped down on his foot as hard as she could and let out a little cry when he shoved her away from him, yelping and hopping ungracefully on his good foot.
"You're not making sense," she accused him. "Start from the beginning and no more of this Angelus crap. I know you're not evil and I don't appreciate being assaulted after breakfast."
"Yeah, and I don't appreciate being bonded for life with a skinny little red haired witch who can't even do a reverse spell for her pet rat, much less keep her lover in town."
Angel mentally kicked himself. That was waaaay below the belt, and the shock of it nearly knocked the breath out of Willow. Tears welled up in her eyes and she let them spill over, down her cheeks, over the bruises lingering on her soft skin.
"That hurt," she confessed, trying not to sob. She couldn't even call him any one of the choice names that came to mind. Of course, when this little confrontation was finished she'd have a whole litany of comebacks, such was the unfair way the world worked. Angel just stood there, hands fisted at his sides, dark eyes repentant but still enraged. "You think whatever is happening is my fault? That I- I tricked you into some sort of prison? Why on earth would I do that? Buffy would never forgive me."
"It was supposed to be Buffy," Angel sighed, feeling tears prick his own eyes. "At least, that's all I can think. Giles said on the phone that she would be the one coming to LA to help with the case, and I got pretty excited about it. I'm thinking that maybe the Powers decided to relent a little bit on my sentence and give me this gift. I mean, they didn't totally let me off the hook. I'm still a vampire and just this morning our agency got a new client. But with you and only you, I have all the human attributes save a heartbeat, but I think that will come in time. And with me, you're no ordinary girl."
Willow sat down on a low brown couch and pulled a red paisley throw blanket over her legs. Angel took the chair opposite, the atmosphere around them not so electrically charged anymore.
"In your sleep, when you had nightmares, I could barely hold you down. You're unnaturally strong, and I don't think any of your spells would go wrong now. You might even be able to read my mind, which is a little disconcerting."
"I don't want to read your mind."
"I said Might. Anyway, we're linked up. Doyle says the Powers did it on purpose, but I can't see why. Why you, and not Buffy? Are they even paying attention to me? Do they care about anything I do, or say, or feel?"
Angel's glance darted down Willow's body. She wasn't all that skinny, though the red hair part was true enough, but he was right on about her sore spots. Cursing himself, he swallowed a lame apology and continued on with the story.
"After Doyle told me what he knew, which wasn't much, just bits and pieces of a vision, I tried to go to the Oracles. They're this supernatural link to the Powers That Be. But I could only get about 20 miles away from this apartment before the pain started squeezing my chest like I was having a heart attack or something. Since that's impossible, I just kept going, but the farther I got from home, the worse the pain became. I finally had to turn back."
"The Powers didn't want you going to talk to the Oracles?"
"That's what I thought, too. But then I went out to the butcher's and it happened again. I vary the suppliers, you know, and this one was pretty far away. I like to drive. But again, I couldn't get more than 20 miles from home before the pain set in."
"It's me," Willow said in a whisper. Angel nodded slowly.
"We have to be in a 20 mile radius of each other or it physically hurts."
"Forever?" Willow wanted to know.
"Doyle had a vision of us together in the year 2030 looking much the same as we do now. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say 'immortal.'"
"But I don't want to live forever! And especially not with you!"
"My sentiments exactly. I've been doing nothing but research, waiting for you to wake up so we can get to Giles and try to undo this thing."
"We can undo it?"
"No. But we can try. Besides, I have to tell Buffy what's happened face to face. It's gonna break her heart."
"Well, unless she's still in bed with Riley, in which case she won't be heartbroken for very long."
As soon as the words left Willow's mouth she wanted to take them back.
"Angel, wait. I'm sorry, look, I thought you knew…" "I guessed." His voice was soft and achingly heartbroken. "I told her to find a normal guy who could give her what I can't. It's good, really. Fine."
Willow watched him walk away, leave the apartment in that rickety elevator for the comfort of the dark night. She ached to comfort him, to assuage his wounded soul, but she was powerless to know what to do. She felt his pain like it was her own, though, a not-so-nice side effect of this twisted bond they shared, and curled up into a little ball to cry his tears for him. She didn't worry about him disappearing. He'd come back soon.
He'd always come back.