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Sanctum (Part 6)
By Cryptic

Disclaimer: Yada, yada…Why Joss, why??

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"Hey, Buffy, how is he?" Willow’s voice sounded vibrant and energizing, although Buffy could tell it was a bit forced, that they all worried, not only for him but for her well-being as well. They had reason, all right, she was beginning to wonder whether Angel was meant to physically experience all possible apocalypses and tribulations, and whether her own sanity could bear the answer to that.

It had been three days since they had found him barely breathing, after a hellish night of torture – both physical and mental. It was a miracle he’d survived, the doctor had exclaimed after examining him for about an hour. He had a concussion, three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, not to mention numerous bruises and burns, but he was alive. He was lapsing in and out of consciousness, most of the time delusional – he seemed to believe that Darla still had him and that he was going to die. Buffy stood by him, refusing to leave his side, changing the sheets, applying new dressings to his wounds, or simply muttering some endearing nonsense to calm him down. He had rambled about his past with Darla, his love for Buffy – some things she never wanted to hear, some she was glad she found out, because he wouldn’t, not in a million years, tell her what he felt, now that she had betrayed him, his love and herself. She knew her whole relationship with Riley was bogus, that it was meant to drive him over the edge, but she couldn’t help remembering a time, when she had clung to Riley, pretending what she and Angel had was worthless, deluding herself that Riley could fill the void Angel’s departure had left in her heart. Now, she was certain of one thing – he was her life, her love and even if he didn’t take her back (and she would do anything to have him back, groveling included) she would never give her heart to someone else. Once she’d tasted true happiness in his arms, she could never settle for something less.

"Oh, Angel," she whispered, tears in her eyes, "come back to me, please, I promise I’ll never hurt you again, I’ll dedicate my life to making you happy."

*He was dreaming, maybe this was the Purgatory, or rather the Narthex to Hell, for he was sure he wasn’t going to Heaven. But then what would she be doing there, something as beautiful and pure as Buffy would never have place anywhere less divine than Heaven. So this was it, the long way of pain and humiliation was through – he was at peace, he was dead. Though, if he were really dead why did she seem so vivid, was it an illusion or was she really there? It couldn’t be, it didn’t make any sense. All he could remember was Darla, telling him to choose between death and life as Angelus, but wasn’t that death too, it was all so confusing. He slowly recollected his own words, his realization that his love for Buffy was the only thing keeping him alive, his speech - meant to drive Darla over the edge and prompt her to end his misery. And then all was darkness. Death, end, peace…*

"Angel, Angel, do you hear me, it’s me Buffy, Angel, look at me!" He had opened his eyes again few seconds earlier but looked as if he were far away.

He looked at her, his gaze still unfocused, his thoughts miles away. She seemed to him to be a vision, a most welcome one and he directed all his fleeting feelings toward her. It suddenly didn’t matter whether she was real or not, all she mattered was that she was there, so close to him, so warm, so human, and yet so divine. He wanted to touch her, to bask in her beauty, to have her melt his bruised heart with hers, to forget about all the Rileys and Darlas in the world, to lose himself, to find the kind of peace he only felt with her.

She sensed the subtle change, she read it in his eyes. The way they darkened with recognition and something more, was it desire? No, it couldn’t be, why would he want her, why would he care after all she had done, after she went and rubbed Riley in his nose, just to make him jealous.

"Buffy.." he breathed in her name, so softly as a caress, she loved the way her name rolled out of his lips, his voice so husky, so absolutely breath-taking, so full of love.

He reached out for her then, closing in the distance between them; needing her touch, the comfort her skin gave him, when pressed to his. He wanted this, he craved it, he needed it. For once it didn’t matter whether she was real or not. He was in a state of such a painful need of her, his mind gave in to the demands of his heart. And it was telling him: grab her, hold on to her like there is no tomorrow, because there would be none, not for you, not for this love, this impossible love that wasn’t meant to happen in the first place. And he did, for once in his life he did what his heart was telling him, ignoring the warnings of his head.

He reached for her. The expression in his eyes – unmistakable. She was dreaming, of that she was certain, but it didn’t matter. All that was important was him and her, together as they were supposed to be. She had waited for this for so long, too long; she had been denied until now. God, it had been long enough. She couldn’t bear it anymore. She gave in to the hunger that was consuming them both.

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Page 6 of 7
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