Rating: G
Summary: Angel deals with Buffy's death with a little help from Fred
Spoilers: "The Gift" and "No Place Like..."<
Distrubution: Just ask, I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: Premise and characters borrowed from 'Angel' .
Author's Note: This one isn't really A/Fr but the sequals are getting there. It starts immediately after "No Place Like..." ended.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Even heros have the right to bleed" - Five
for Fighting "Superman"
~Part: 1~ Anything
Willow looked up at them with heartbroken eyes for what felt like an eternity. Every second that passed deepen the feeling of dread that filled Angel and then she said it; "Buffy died."
Before the words could echo in the painfully silent room Angel knew what he was going to do. Buffy couldn't be dead, he wouldn't let her be dead. Angel spun on his heel and raced out of the Hotel and into the night.
When he reached the place he didn't pause as he had before. No uncertainty, no awkward jokes to psyche himself up. If the portal had changed locations it would hurt, not that he'd notice it, not with the pain that already existed in his heart. He didn't even slow as he reached the edge of the empty pool, his run simply flowed into a smooth dive.
When he rolled to his feet in the trial chamber Angel shook with relief. It was still here, still open to him.
The being he'd dubbed Jeeves last time approached him and began his spiel then faltered. "You. Why are you here again?"
"I'm sorry about how I behaved last time, but I still passed all of your tests," Angel said firmly. "You still owe me a life, bring back Buffy."
Jeeves blinked in surprise and silence stretched out between them.
Angel began unbuttoning his shirt, kicking off his shoes as he did so. "I'll take the tests again," he offered. A quaver entered his voice. "Or other trials if you want."
Angel sank to his knees looking up at Jeeves with dark pleading eyes that glistened with tears not yet shed. "I'll do whatever you want," he begged. "Just bring her back. Anything at all. Please."
~Part: 2~ Can't
Jeeves looked down at Angel with real regret filling his eyes and coloring his words. "I'm sorry, but we can't."
Angel frowned up at him in confusion. Won't he could have fought, pled with them, argued, made them see that they had to bring back Buffy. Can't he didn't know how to deal with. He could hear that can't meant can't and not won't. What was he supposed to do about can't? They had to bring Buffy back.
"Why can't you?" Angel asked. He was startled by the child-like inflection in his voice and on a certain level realized he was in shock. He'd seen this in the people he rescued from time to time, when they simply couldn't process what had happened or even had almost happened.
He'd never imagined he could feel like that. After what he'd done and seen in his unnaturally long life it should have been impossible for something to happen that he couldn't manage to deal with, but he'd never imagined Buffy being gone. Even during the months without his soul he'd always planned to turn her rather than kill her. Angel had known that Slayers inevitably died young, but somehow that had never applied to Buffy, not to his Slayer. Buffy was going to grow old, have children and grandchildren and somehow at the same time she was always going to be the teenager burning with life that he'd first fallen in love with.
The concept of Buffy being something still and lifeless, of her being dead was impossible to grasp. Buffy defined life. "Buffy died" was an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms.
Of course they could make Buffy alive; that was the only way she could be.
"It's not my place," Jeeves said.
"But it's someone's?" Angel asked hopefully. "Who? How do I find them? What do I do?"
"It is not your place either," Jeeves replied. "What is done is done, what is to be is to be."
"I don't understand," Angel pled. "What should I do? I want her back. She has to be alive."
"Go home, go on with your life," Jeeves advised.
"No," Angel stated. "I need to know what to do to make things right. This isn't right."
Jeeves vanished and the stairs appeared but Angel stubbornly ignored them. Hours later Jeeves reappeared, he looked up at something beyond the roof. "It's nearly dawn," he sighed. "I suppose you'll have to stay the day, but there are better places to wait than the dungeon."
In a flash of light they moved, not to the waiting room, which Angel had halfway expected, but to a cozy sitting room. Angel was fully dressed again.
"She was a remarkable person," Jeeves said quietly as he encouraged Angel to take a seat.
"She wasn't supposed to die," Angel replied. "They said she'd die sooner if I stayed human, so I didn't. This is too soon. Something went wrong. I have to make it better. Tell me what to do."
Awkwardly Jeeves patted Angel's shoulder. "It will hurt less with time," he promised.
"No! Buffy can't stay dead!" Angel growled.
"Just give it time," Jeeves repeated.
After a considering pause Jeeves offered him tea. Angel frowned vaguely irritated at the cautious way he was being handled, like he might explode at any moment.
He wanted to be told how to get Buffy back, not to listen to a lot of fortune cookie nonsense or to be offered calming beverages. He was calm, or at least numb.
Angel watched the tea he'd been given go cold, watched a skin form on the surface. Jeeves was rustling around in the background, talk sometimes, but he wasn't saying anything Angel wanted to hear.
"It's sunset," Jeeves said, making that the first meaning thing to come out of his mouth since he'd said he couldn't bring Buffy back. "Your friends are concerned. You need to go home."
Angel considered arguing, but he'd accomplished nothing here. When the stairs appeared a second time he walked up them without question.
Whistler met him at the top of the stairs. "You're here?" Angel asked. "Why?"
"Ahh, I was worried," Whistler said. "It's been a bad year. I hate to see you get your feet knocked out from under you just when you find them again."
"Life's not fair," Angel replied with a dull bitterness. "That's hardly news. I just have to find a way to fix it, that's all."
"Um Angel, you know she's dead right?" Whistler asked cautiously. "You can't fix that."
"Doesn't stop me from trying."
~Part: 3~ Lost
Angel looked around the lobby as he headed toward the stairs. Fred sat on the counter, kicking it lightly with her heels, looking around with open curiosity.
When she saw Angel she smiled brightly. "You're back. Every one was very upset when you ran off. Every one running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. People say that here: 'chickens with their heads cut off'. I remember that. The sun about to rise. worry, worry, worry. They thought you might. Well they though it best if they found you first. I guess you didn't thought, very glad about that. You're here, safe. That's good. People do say chickens with their heads cut off when they mean every which way don't they?"
Angel stopped. "They say that," he answered Fred, then continued up the stairs.
"Um, they're worried," Fred reminded Angel holding out the phone.
Angel walked back to her. He took the phone and dialed Cordelia's cell number.
"Hello? Has he been found?" she asked.
"It's Angel," he said.
"Oh thank God, Angel. Where are you? Where have you been?"
"I'm at the Hotel. I was trying. it doesn't matter, it didn't work," Angel hung up the phone and slowly walked up the stairs.
Fred watched him unhappily. After a moment she followed him up to the roof. Angel stood starring out into the night, looking lost. Timidly Fred crept up beside him. She took his hand in both of her. When Angel looked down at her she said. "I know. It hurts. loosing your whole world."
Angel's hand tightened briefly on hers before turning back to the night
sky. "I don't know what to do," he said.
4/12
Facing It
"Why are you here now?" Spike demanded angrily as soon as he saw Angel at the funeral. "Why weren't you here when she needed you? When you could have saved her? Why come now?"
Angel shuttered, he'd expected this, but not from Spike. He'd been ready to face Giles, Dawn and Xander's hatred because once again he'd managed to fail Buffy, but he had hardly anticipated an attack from Buffy's long-standing enemy.
"Spike!" Xander said, his voice sounding surprisingly mature, but then death does that to people, Angel realized. "Go sit with Dawn."
The two traded glares for a moment, but it was Spike whose eyes dropped. Kicking the ground angrily the bleached blond stalked off.
"I'm sorry," Angel said, trying to rebuild his defenses for what would surely be the next attack.
"You couldn't have done anything," Xander said quietly. "Spike's just angry, he's lashing out at everyone except Dawn. He isn't even really angry at you. Mostly he'd mad because he couldn't save her. and because he cares in the first place."
Cordelia gave Xander a shocked look, but bit her tongue before she could say anything tactless.
Angel frowned in confusion, why was Xander being nice? Spike was right, he should have been there.
"How are Dawn and Giles doing?" Wesley asked.
"No worse than you'd expect," Xander said. "Dawn blames herself a lot, but Spike's good for her. He'll start trying to convince her it was all his fault, then she'll argue that it's hers. Eventually it gets so ridiculous that even they can see it wasn't either of their faults, at least for a few hours."
"Giles is being the responsible adult. I think that's all that's holding him together. I'm glad we still can't get a hold of Buffy's dad; cause if he were here Giles would come completely unglued. I really thing he'd kill the guy for not being here for Buffy and Dawn during Joyce's illness and afterwards."
"Anya and Tara are keeping Willow and I from falling apart and we're keeping busy helping Spike patrol. You know, I still can't believe that this isn't some awful nightmare. I keep expecting to wake up and Buffy will be alright."
Cordelia nodded in agreement, "It's hard to imagine that she could be. Buffy just seemed like she'd always come out on top."
Xander waited until Angel had gone to pay his respects then pulled Cordelia aside and asked. "How's Angel coping? Willow told us he just took off after she told him."
"We thought he was going to kill himself that night," Cordelia admitted. "I don't know what he did exactly, but it was some sort of an appeal to the PTB to get her back. They told him no. He's found a couple different ways to bring back the dead but they've all got loopholes. He's pretty obsessed, but he's not crazy this time. I don't think we need to worry about zombies or anything. There's no way Angel's going to risk something like Darla's being sick happening to Buffy. If he finds a way to do it, it'll be the real thing."
Xander swallowed harshly. "Is that possible?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't think so, but Angel does. We worry a lot about
what he's going to do if he runs out of possibilities."
5/12
Failing
Angel closed the book he'd been reading, added it to the growing stack of "not helpful" and reached behind him for another.
His hand encountered nothingness. Angel turned and looked at the shelf. It and all the others were empty. Angel looked back at the room, really looking at it for the first time in weeks.
There wasn't just one pile of books he'd already examined. There were dozens. In fact all the books the agency owned were in those piles.
Angel considered other options. He'd already spoken with every link to the PTB that he knew of and none of them would help. He'd even tried a few of their opposites on the other side.
The powers of good all said they couldn't and those of evil wouldn't guarantee that Buffy would be Buffy if they did it.
He'd summoned Denver's ghost and they'd examined the old man's collection of occult books together, an endeavor that would have taken Angel years by himself. They'd found nothing.
Now Angel's own library was exhausted as well. Unless.
Angel called Wesley.
"Hullo. I'm awake," the ex-watcher answered groggily.
"Wesley, could you have left any of the books at the other office?" Angel asked.
"Angel, are you aware that it's. four AM?" Wesley asked. "Couldn't this have waited a few hours?"
"I'm sorry," Angel said. "I didn't think about the time. but since you're up?"
"We took all the books when we moved back to the Hyperion," Wesley said.
"You're sure?" Angel asked. "Every one?"
"Yes, I'm sure!" Wesley exclaimed. "Good night Angel."
Wesley hung up the phone and returned to bed. Five minutes later he was jolted up right by the realization of why Angel would urgently want more books.
He quickly returned the call.
"Hello?" Fred answered just before the answering machine would have.
"Is Angel there?" Wesley asked.
"Slamming door. Bang! Woke me up, won't talk to me. Won't come out of his room" Fred stammered.
"Could you keep an eye on him?" Wesley asked. "I'll be there shortly."
"Sure, no problem," Fred replied.
Three minutes later Wesley was out the door and on his way to the hotel.
The lobby was empty but reassuringly normal. Wesley continued upstairs and found Fred sitting outside Angel's door, a perplexed frown on her face.
"He locked it," she told Wesley. "He never locks his door."
6/12
Just Be
The timid tapping at his door was a surprise to Angel. Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn didn't knock; they knew he wasn't going to answer the door so they didn't bother with the formalities, not after they dismantled his lock anyway. They apologized, said they were worried when he didn't come out and wouldn't talk to them for days. They didn't fix the door when they left.
At first they had sympathized and they'd tried to console him. Then they lectured to him about his duty and told him what Buffy would have wanted him to do. Cordy hadn't had a vision since the news came so personally he didn't see what they were upset about. Maybe they were just anticipating future trouble. They talked and talked and talked and it was all meaningless babble beside the reality of Buffy being dead.
After a few minutes the door opened and Fred tentatively stepped inside. A shower, a change of cloths and a hairbrush had transformed her from a feral creature to a youthful scholar. The change was only an illusion, she still moved like something hunted.
"I thought, maybe, seeing as how you're not busy. Well you've been staring at the wall for better than a week now, I suppose that might count as busy. But maybe you wouldn't mind going walking with me? I'm glad to be back and all of course, but it's a little scary going out there. Very different, not right, walking through dreams. One of the others would go with me, it's not like you have to. Still I thought maybe you'd like to. I don't know. move? Maybe find a new wall before this one gets holes in it."
"Did they put you up to this?" Angel asked.
"This? Oh, asking you to do something. No, they told me it was pointless. I just thought. Well you know what I said in Pylea? About not minding if you don't want to talk. I still don't mind. So well, you don't have to, talk or come even. I just thought. no harm asking."
Angel stood slowly and walked to the door, he turned and looked back at Fred. "Are you coming?" he asked.
She smiled, bright and fleeting then scampered across the room to his side.
Aimlessly they wandered around the city. After the first few blocks Angel linked his arm through Fred's to be sure she didn't accidentally wander into traffic while she was gawking at the city. As they walked Fred maintained a running commentary on everything. "The buildings, they're really as tall as I imagined. remembered. Cows. I mean people. humans. whatever, everywhere. Look at all the people. No collars either. Their heads won't get blown off, right? Noise, lots of noise, I don't like the noise. I remember that. I liked the library, it didn't have all this noise."
Occasionally she paused, in case Angel wanted to say something or just to take a breath, Angel wasn't ever completely certain, but true to her word she never seemed to mind when he didn't say anything, or that he was lost in his own thoughts half the time.
"Oh!" Fred exclaimed in delight. "Taco Bell!" Eagerly she pulled Angel into the fast food restaurant.
"I'd like a taco please," she informed the cashier firmly.
"Hard or soft?" he asked.
Fred gave the question the serious attention it deserved, checked her funds, then answered decisively, "One of each."
The faintest ghost of a smile touched Angel's face at her serious, childlike demeanor.
They sat down. Fred unwrapped both her purchases, and then tried a bite of each, her expression blissful. "Much better without the tree bark," she commented.
After several minutes Fred set aside her food and said. "I don't mind if you do talk either, whatever helps."
As they began the walk back to the Hyperion Angel said, "I'm going to keep on fighting, you can tell the others that. When something comes up I'll be there for them."
"They'll be happy to hear that. Why didn't you just tell them?"
Angel shrugged. "I don't like being told how to mourn her. Maybe Buffy wouldn't like how I'm coping, but it's what I feel like doing."
"Staring holes in the wall?" Fred asked.
"Pretty much."
"Does it help?"
"Not really."
"Have you tried anything else?" Fred asked.
"No. I don't know that I want to feel better," Angel said.
"Oh, do you mind that I, well, kinda dragged you away from your wall?"
Angel looked down at Fred. "No, it was okay," he reassured her.
Fred smiled and looked away shyly. "Well we could walk more, some other time, maybe."
"Maybe," Angel echoed.
7/12
Not Just
"Fred gave us your message," Wesley said.
"Are you here because Cordelia had a vision?" Angel asked without looking away from his wall.
"No, Cordelia did not have a vision," Wesley said with a touch of anger.
"Then why are you here?" Angel asked dully.
Wesley placed himself directly in front of Angel's line of site. "I'm here because I'm worried about you. What you told Fred, it sounded like you think all we care about is whether or not you're going to help us fight demons."
Angel turned away.
"We're worried about you Angel. You're cutting yourself off again," Wesley insisted.
"You think this is like what happened with Darla?" Angel asked his toneless voice gave Wesley no clue as to what he was thinking."
"Well. somewhat," Wesley hedged. "Although we're more concerned that you'll harm yourself rather than lock a group of people in a room with two bloody thirsty vampires."
"Fuck you."
"Angel we've reason to be concerned. Buffy's death would be terribly hard for you to deal with at any time, but coming right on top of this last year? You've hardly shown a great deal of mental stability."
"Killing myself won't get me to where Buffy is or bring her back," Angel said coldly. "Helping people is all I've got left to care about. I'm hardly going to give that up, so you can stop concerning yourself."
"You hardly leave this room. You don't really talk to anyone about how you're coping. Cordelia believes you're starving yourself," Wesley stammered.
"I'm not walking out on my responsibilities," Angel said. "And I think what I do with my free time is none of your business. boss."
"Angel, we are your friends," Wesley insisted.
"Are ya now?" Angel demanded, a soft lilt coloring his angry words. "I've heard otherwise often enough. What was it Cordy said? 'After four hundred years of death and destruction, seems to me you get voted off the island.' But you're okay with a hundred and fifty? Oh wait. you're not. Faith only had, what, three months and you though she should be put down like a rabid animal."
"Angel. we weren't talking about you," Wesley said, feeling like he was sinking in quicksand.
"Why not? Oh right, because I help people. As long as I'm useful you'll forgive me. And if I'll `be sensitive to their feelings, their opinions,' and lets not forget letting them humiliate me every now and then; then maybe you'll even let me hang around and feel out of place. Sorry, I don't have the energy any more."
"You don't mean that," Wesley said. "You're grieving this is just part of the process."
"Leave me the hell alone Wesley," Angel replied.
"Think what you like Angel, but we do care about you as a person," Wesley said firmly.
"Have I ever mentioned that a vampire's heightened senses are almost as good as having a lie detector?" Angel said.
"Lie detectors can be wrong," Wesley said.
"Were you telling the truth when you told me you believed I'd be able to come back if I called on my demon in Pylea?" Angel asked softly.
"I'm telling the truth now Angel. I'm your friend."
8/12
Asking
Cordelia ran to the door as the three men entered, her eyes fearful. Wesley and Gunn hovered anxiously on either side of Angel, ready to catch him should he fall, obviously wanting to help but unable to violate the bubble of personal space Angel's glare demanded.
Angel's black shirt was plastered to his side with blood and his armm was wrapped around his stomach, keeping pressure on his wound. Or keeping his guts from falling out, Cordelia found herself thinking, imagining the depth of cut it would take to cause this much bleeding in a vampire.
With one last warning glare at Gunn and Wesley, Angel stepped out from between them and slowly walked to the elevator. Several drops of blood marked his path.
"Angel wait, I need to." Cordelia began only to be cut off by the closing elevator doors. "How'd it happen this time?" she asked the guys angrily. "You were supposed to be watching out for him!"
"I don't know," Wesley said. "He appeared to have his opponent beaten and then the next thing I knew Angel was on the ground."
"This has to stop," Cordelia said as she retrieved her first aid supplies. "I mean he's five for five. He's gotten seriously hurt every time I've had a vision since Buffy. How long is it going to be before all you two bring back is a pile of dust?"
"What are we supposed to do?" Gunn demanded. "This isn't a game we're playing. English and I can't be watching him every second, if we do one of us 'll get hurt instead of him. It's not that he can't handle himself anymore, like English said, one moment it's like old times, the next he's just standing there like he doesn't realize where he is or what he's doing."
"Maybe we shouldn't let him fight," Cordelia suggested hesitantly. "We've done it without him before."
"No," Wesley said. "Without responsibilities to tie him to reality we may loose him altogether."
"Well we've got to think of something," Cordelia insisted summoning the elevator back. "So think. I'll go force medical attention on him."
She stepped into the elevator and fidgeted nervously as it rose.
Fred was crouched outside of Angel's door staring at the blood on the floor. "He's hurt again," she said accusingly.
"I know," Cordelia replied. She felt the prickle of tears in her eyes but forced them back. Cordelia Chase didn't sit around crying, she did something to fix the problem.
With new determination, Cordy pushed Angel's door open, hating the reminder of how bad things were in the form of the dismantled lock, but glad that he didn't have the option of closing them out.
As always Angel had retreated to sitting in his chair, brooding, although he was listing heavily to one side.
Cordelia dumped her supplies on the small table in the kitchenette and pulled out a straight-backed chair then went to Angel.
"Come on, lets get you patched up," she said, trying to pull Angel to his feet, completely disregarding the glare that had kept Wesley and Gunn from approaching him.
"Go away," Angel ordered hissing in pain as Cordelia tugged him toward the kitchenette. They'd gone through this before and he knew the only way he was getting rid of Cordelia was to let her tend to his injuries, but he protested anyway. "Why do you bother? I'm a vampire, I'll heal."
"Sure, after bleeding all over the place for a week," Cordelia said. "And it's not like you eat enough to replace what you lose."
As she spoke Cordelia peeled off Angel's shirt. A fresh stream of blood welled up as the cloth pulled free of the wound, taking the beginning scab with it.
Cordelia wrinkled her nose. "And yet another reason for actually treating wounds. I mean I know you like the color, it's all you wear, but if you'd left that shirt in your cut much longer it would have been a permanent part of you."
Angel endured her ministrations and comments silently; passively allowing her to move him as she saw fit; staring over her head blankly.
"There, doesn't that feel better?" Cordelia asked with a forced cheer when she'd finished.
"What do you care?" Angel said and Cordelia slapped him.
For several moments they just stared at each other. Angel looked stunned, Cordelia, horrified.
"I'm sorry," Angel said.
"No," Cordelia replied. "I guess I deserved that after how I acted over your and Groo's fight."
With a sigh Cordelia perched on the table beside Angel. "We're both pretty rotten at this being friends thing you know. You don't say a tenth of what needs to be said and I run on at the mouth and say things I shouldn't. Neither of us is any good at trusting people."
"We're a pair," Angel said with a darkly ironic infection to his voice.
"Yeah, we really are," Cordelia replied. "You're my best friend, one of my first real friends and way closer to me than my family ever was Angel. That's why it hurt so much when you went away. I just got you back, I don't want to lose you forever."
"I don't get hurt on purpose," Angel said.
"Then why does it happen every single time? You didn't get hurt like this before." Cordelia replied.
Angel looked away from her as he spoke. "It's been two year since Buffy was been an everyday part of my life. Sometimes, when I get involved in what I'm doing, I forget. It's like always, I'm here in LA and she's in Sunnydale because I had to let her go. But deep down I still believe that we're going to be together again someday, once all the battles are over. Then I remember that she's gone and it feels like that night all over again."
Angel paused, drifting off until the weight of Cordelia's gaze brought him back to the here and now. "I loose track," he finished. "Whatever I'm doing goes away and all I can do is realize she's dead. I never even knew how it happened."
"You took off before Willow could say anything except the bare bones," Cordelia said. "Afterwards no one knew how to breach the subject."
"At first it didn't matter," Angel said. "I was going to get her back, then everything would be right again. That's not going to happen is it? She's really gone isn't she?"
"I'm sorry," Cordelia said.
"How did Buffy die?" Angel asked, his voice catching in his throat.
9/12
Comfort and Security
Patiently Fred waited. Angel had explained why this "wasn't a good idea", Fred had listened, seriously considered his concerns, then calmly refuted them and did what felt right. That didn't mean she wanted to explain their sleeping arrangements to the others. So she waited.
Fred's nightmares had started it; Angel's had solidified it. The nightmares had started, not the day Fred had gotten back, no one had slept that awful day, but the next night. In her dreams Pylea was the only real world and LA was just proof of how little sanity she had left. The dream came, not once but every time Fred slept.
When Fred woke from the nightmare she would wander through the Hyperion's halls filling her senses with the reality of them, trying to prove to herself that the nightmare was only that. Nothing had ever convinced her.
One early morning Fred's rambles had brought her to Angel's door. Upon hearing sobs she'd paused, after a few minutes hesitation she'd tried the door. It hadn't been locked so Fred crept in.
She found Angel curled on his side, sobbing brokenly, fast asleep. Fred reached out to wake him but her hand stopped centimeters short of his shoulder. She remembered his embarrassment over the caterwauling in Pylea and that he hardly ever slept between doing the day to day stuff for the agency and looking for a way to make his Buffy not dead.
Instead of shaking him awake Fred took Angel's hand patting it comfortingly as she hummed a soft tuneless refrain that she remembered from her childhood.
It had been a surprise when Angel, without waking, had pulled her into his arms and wrapped himself around her warmth. Fred had been even more surprised to realize that his touch caused the tension she'd felt building in herself for weeks to loosen and begin to slip away. Angel was real to her, he'd proved himself real in Pylea and now he was here and so here must be real as well.
Fred continued humming and gently stroking the arm that encircled her waist until Angel's sobs faded into silence then, with a relieved sigh, Fred cuddled closer to him and fell asleep herself.
The next mid-morning Angel had been all confusion and embarrassment and can't-do-this. He'd told her the ins and outs of the curse; Fred had been confused, what did happiness have to do with last night? Then Angel had moved on to how she should get involved with other people-type people, not demon-type people, not with him. Which didn't make much more sense than the happiness thing. How was she supposed to relate to people when she wasn't even sure they were really real?
Still, there could have been factors she was over looking, so Fred followed Angel's wishes while considering the issue more closely.
Over the days that followed the tension caused by not being sure which world was dream and which was here crept back into Fred leaving her anxious and fidgety, jumping at every sound, even those only heard in her head. While Angel grew increasingly haggard from sleep that was too filled with what he refused to deal with during the wakeful hours to be called rest.
After several days Fred discovered a partial solution in staying up after all the others had left to help Angel research a way to bring Buffy back. The others were all muddled about his objective; The dead were generally better off left dead, so they weren't comfortable about what he wanted to do. On the other hand Angel knew all about the first hand and wasn't about to do something stupid so they couldn't really put their foot down about it. Then there was everyone's sneaking hope that Angel might actually be able to do it. But there was also the third hand where no one thought that this was a terribly healthy way for Angel to deal with Buffy's death. Which all added up to them simply turning a blind eye to the whole thing while they tried to be ready for whatever came next.
Fred didn't like that. She wasn't sure how she felt about what Angel was trying to do, plus she'd never known Buffy. But whether Angel failed or succeeded and whether or not he should even be trying to do this Fred was happier if he wasn't doing it alone.
So she helped and being with Angel made everything more real, which in turn made her relax. She usually ended up falling asleep over the books. She would wake up later; neatly tucked into her own bed, and sometimes she would even be waking up because it was time to get up rather than because of the nightmare. Sometimes but not always. The other times the nightmare would come back and maybe she'd go back downstairs and find Angel still pouring over his books or maybe he'd have gone to bed himself. Then Fred would end up standing outside his door, listening helplessly to his nightmares trying to do as he'd asked and leave him to them.
That didn't last long. Fred just couldn't stand to stand by while he was in pain and after a few more lectures from Angel when he woke up to find himself holding her like a teddy bear or a security blanket he quit mentioning it. Within a few more nights Fred began waking up in the pre-dawn hours when Angel usually had just gone to bed so that she could check on him whether or not she'd had her nightmare.
And things were, if not good, well they were okay, until Angel locked his door. After than Fred wasn't certain what was okay anymore. That uncertainty got worse, not better, when the lock was removed because then the door wasn't open because Angel wanted it that way now, it was open because the doorknob along with the lock was hidden in the bottom of Wesley's desk.
The status quo was gone and Fred didn't know what to do, so she'd asked, she'd given Angel the option and he'd let her back in a little.
A few nights after their first walk through the city Fred had awakened to find Angel watching her sleep, his expression absolutely miserable, unable to choose between the comfort she offered and the pain that felt like all he had left of Buffy.
Fred had gotten up and sat beside him on the floor, wrapping her arms around him. Wordless Angel had moved them both to her bed.
Since that night they'd slept together. They didn't talk about it, not about how Angel took to wearing lots more clothes when he slept, not about keeping their sleeping arrangements just between them, not about factors that would prevent them from ever having a full relationship even if his heart did eventually heal. Right now they were what the other needed and that was all that mattered.
Only things weren't really okay because Angel kept getting hurt and Fred didn't know why or how to stop it from happening.
Now she waited for Cordelia to finish tending to his latest injuries.
Once the other girl had gone Fred would go to Angel and try to keep the
foundation of her reality from falling apart.
10/12
Break Down
Angel listened intently as Cordelia spoke. She told him everything she knew about how Buffy had died.
She held his hands offering all the comfort and support that was absent from her stark retelling of what Willow had told them. Tact, in Cordelia's opinion, had never helped anything, so she just told him what she knew and left it to her touch to show him that she was there for him. When she felt his hands change, becoming claw-like, when the eyes that stared into hers changed from sorrowful brown to molten gold she only held on tighter.
After she finished they sat there for a while in silence. Then Angel got up, went to the sink, picked up a heavy mug and very deliberately smashed it against the wall.
Fred came running and was just in time to see the plate meet the same fate. A few more crashes brought Wesley and Gunn as well.
The four watched as Angel methodically and without expression destroyed every dish in the kitchen. When there was nothing left he stood there, swaying uncertainly. Wesley guided him back to a chair.
"It wasn't fair," Angel said in a choked voice. "They didn't give her a choice she could live with; Dawn, herself or the world. It wasn't right."
"No it wasn't," Wesley agreed and the anger just drained from Angel's eyes. His demon visage melted away.
"She asked me to stay after her mother's funeral," Angel said. "Maybe I was supposed to. I drank her, it was her blood that kept me from dying, I could have been the one to jump and that would have been better. There would have been an actual good choice."
"Angel." Wesley began uncertainly, "After two years I. I don't think you would still."
"Buffy wouldn't have let you," Cordelia interrupted forcefully. "She didn't want to be the one left behind. She wouldn't have let you make that choice."
"I never said goodbye," Angel commented. "All the times I left her, I never said goodbye."
"You could now," Fred suggested. "If that's what you need."
"I was at the funeral," Angel said. "It didn't do any good. I'm sorry Fred, but that won't help me."
"It might this time," Wesley suggested quietly. "At the funeral you
were still looking for ways to bring her back. It could help now that you
are going to say goodbye."
11/12
Living
Angel looked around the lobby of the Hyperion, it looked like a different place with the banners and brightly colored streamers Cordelia had hung up.
When Cordelia had told Angel they were going to celebrate Fred's birthday he'd been skeptical about the wisdom of the idea. Fred had never been a party-type and Pylea had made her even shier and more skittish. Since returning to LA she hadn't chosen to do much to reintegrate herself into her former life. In fact, without Cordelia's prodding she wouldn't have bothered to let anyone know she was back at all.
But Cordelia was determined and, as was usually the case when Cordelia decided something should be done, the rest of them had eventually gone along.
Angel had been given the task of keeping Fred away from the Hotel while the others decorated and gathered the guests, so the actual preparations were as much a surprise to him as they had been to Fred.
Surprisingly Cordelia had showed a remarkable degree of restraint in making up the guest list, just the four of them, Lorne, Fred's friends from the library and her graduate professor. All people she'd had contact with since returning from Pylea. Cordelia had reserved her normal over-the-top approach for the decorations. Angel couldn't even see the lobby's walls or ceiling for the rainbow colored streamers and banners hung from them.
And Fred did seem to be enjoying it. She and her Professor, the very Professor Lutzbalm who'd been laughed off the stage for proposing that dimensional portals may exist, were holding an animated discussion on dynamic reality spheres. They seemed very excited; no one else knew what they were talking about.
"Angel, tell him about the quaking and quivering, and how I opened them without even knowing," Fred demanded happily.
"You did, and fell in while monsters warriors and a psychic lounge singer fell out," Angel replied with gentle amusement.
"Right! Trionic speech formulations, that was the key. Talking to change what's real. Sound waves used to manipulate not just perception but everything. What the priests did with sound there, awful stuff, used it to blow heads off. But they didn't understand, called it magic, called it spells, nonsense, all sound waves and science. I heated the collar, put it out of tune, no blowin' my head off. Course then they wanted to cut it off, but Angel rescued me," Fred babbled excitedly. "Tone and tune and constant representation of mathematical formulation spoken out loud."
"Magic," Angel said seriously, although his eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Science, that hasn't been properly explained, yet," Fred responded automatically. "I'm going to do it, write a paper. or maybe not, don't need people here knowing new ways to blow things up, but I'll figure it all out."
"Spells, incantations, prayers to the gods." Angel's lips quirked.
"Verbal formulation," Fred insisted, knowing she was being teased.
"Sounds like magic to me," Angel replied, smiling.
"Superstitious, eighteenth century silly," Fred taunted.
"Twenty-first century sci-fi nut," Angel responded.
Fred giggled. "Wrong! Sci-fi means science fiction. I'm a bonafide scientific theorist."
Angel shrugged apologetically then in a too innocent voice said. "My mistake, but you have to admit it's a fine distinction."
"Oh you!" Fred huffed, playfully punching Angel in the shoulder.
Angel smirked at her good-humouredly. Fred pouted outrageously and Angel laughed. His laughter choked off in mid-sound. "I'm sorry," Angel said to Fred hurrying up, out of the lobby to his room.
Gunn followed him. "You forgot to be miserable long enough to laugh didn't you, and now you're feeling guilty about that," he said confronting Angel. "Don't."
"I won't." Angel began.
"No, you won't. You won't forget Buffy or betray her memory or anything else you're thinking you've done wrong because you're starting to live again. well not live per say, but you know what I mean," Gunn said. "It's been ten months, you can't mourn forever. Trying to hold on to that pain was what was killing you a few months back. You don't wanna go there again. Buffy wouldn't want you to either."
"How would you know what she would want?" Angel asked harshly. "You never even met her."
"Getting real tired of the misplaced anger routine," Gunn said. "We aren't gonna let you push us away, so you might as well give it a rest."
"As for knowing what Buffy would of wanted; maybe I didn't know her,
but I've heard the story, the message she had her sis pass on. Gist of
it was she wanted the rest of you to go on with your lives. That was her
last wish, and that's what you were doing a few minutes ago. So go back
downstairs and keep it up. No more retreating up here and hiding from life,
okay?"
12/12
Coming Back
"Welcome back Miss," Jeeves said.
"What? . I'm not dead? I really thought I was going to be dead somehow. Wait. If I'm not dead are the dimensional walls still down?"
"All is well. You were brought back. He passed all our challenges and thus you were made alive again."
"Who? Angel, of course, it was Angel. Is he okay?" Buffy asked.
"He is well," Jeeves told her. "In fact, that was the last challenge set before him. To continue, to face your loss with no hope of altering that and not loose himself to his pain."
"He did that? Angel's okay with me being dead?" Buffy asked uncertainly.
Jeeves rolled his eyes. "You want him to be well and yet you also want him to hurt for you, to suffer. He has. It has been ten months in your world and it has only just been concluded that he had passed the test."
"Oh," Buffy said in a small voice. "Well um, I'll go now. Where can I find Angel?"
"You might try the Hyperion Hotel, he does both work and live there," Jeeves commented.
"Right, the hotel. It's still standing? It hasn't been blown up or burned down yet? We're hard on buildings that way, or maybe it's just me."
"You were going?" Jeeves asked.
"Yeah, I guess I'm nervous," Buffy said. "Which is silly, ridiculous really, so bye."
___________________________________________________________
"You don't even want to tell Angel you're alive?" Willow asked in disbelief.
"I was going to. It was the first thing I was going to do, but I couldn't," Buffy said. "I mean they were having a some kind of party and I was standing outside trying to think of a way to say 'Hi I'm back. Sorry you got put through hell again', when he sensed me. You know how we are, the whole vampire/slayer recognition thing going wonky so that all it says is 'love's here'. Angel freaked Wills. He practically ran out of that room. And the girl he'd been talking with, she got this confused/hurt/worried expression. When Angel came back a little later he was still all tense and off. Then she went to him. She touched his arm and talked to him for a little and he relaxed, smiled even, you know how rare that is. She led him back to the group, kept him a part of it."
"I still don't understand why you didn't tell him," Willow said. "Angel was really broken when I told him about you."
"It's okay to say the 'd' word," Buffy interjected when Willow paused uncertainly.
"We thought he was going to kill himself for a while or do something really awful to get you back," Willow finished.
"He did get me back Wills, by giving me up," Buffy replied a little sadly. "He's okay now, if he knew I was back it would just confuse things."
"Because of some girl? You know Angel can't, remember the curse? She's gotta be just a friend."
"No, you didn't see them. I don't know how Angel got around the curse, but they're together. And they're so comfortable with each other. There none of the playing-with-fire vibe that was always between Angel and I."
"Wasn't no fire the problem with you and Riley?" Willow asked skeptically.
"It's not that," Buffy sighed. "When Angel and I touched it burned. With Riley it was just skin. Between them it's something else, a connection. That's something special."
"I used to want to have Riley for all the normal boyfriend/girlfriend things and still have Angel loving me forever, no matter what that did to him. I guess I've grown up since then, cause now I understand why Angel left; he wanted me to be happy, even if I couldn't be with him. Now I want the same for him too, and I think he is. So I'm going to do the graceful thing and let him go."
THE END