Creative Works   

Buffy and Angel: In Sunlight and Shadow (Page 2)
By N.C.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all.

. . .

Chapter Two

Another cemetery, another patrol. It was almost sunrise, and Buffy was tired from everything that had gone on that day. She wanted to be back home, not patrolling the graveyards of Sunnydale.

And I didn't ask to be Chosen. But she was long past being resentful and avoiding her calling. She was fated to be the Slayer of her generation, and she knew it, and she dealt with it. So stop thinking those thoughts. Giles would be ashamed of me...But hey, we're all human, and when a person gets tired, they get testy. Like I—punch—am--knee-in-groin—now! She was fighting three more red-Irish vamps, and getting suspicious. They all looked a lot alike and they all wore huge black X's tattooed on their right forearms. These three were stronger than the first, but not strong enough. Though she was winded and sore, Buffy managed to stake all three. The other vampires she fought were all the quick-and-easy dispatch type.

When she got home at midnight that night, Dawn was asleep and Willow was on the phone. She went to bed and fell asleep immediately.

. . .

On the phone with Tara, Willow asked tentatively, shy, "So, should we plan it around three? Wait, no, three thirty would be better."

"Three thirty it is, then. At the Bronze."

"Great!"

"Yeah. OK, see you there, Will!" They hung up, and Willow went to sleep smiling.

. . .

Angel and Gunn, his friend and assistant, were discussing the rash of red-haired, Irish looking vampires.

"There's a band missing called, "Green Eyed X's," who are supposed dead," Gunn mused worriedly.

"Let's investigate—I have to think they're one and the same."

"I'll get Wesley." Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was Buffy's official Watcher, but he lived in L.A. She thought he was annoying and stuffy. He thought she was disobedient and couldn't take orders. Now Wesley was working for Angel. So Giles, who had been fired as her Watcher, stayed in the position unofficially until he'd left for England.

Angel nodded and strode out of the room, looking for Cordelia to confirm her earlier vision of these rouges.

. . .

Over coffee and a moccachino, Tara agreed to give it another chance with Willow and move back in with her. Both happy, they left the Bronze.

. . .

Dru was standing on the windowsill of the fourth story window of the apartment. It was evening, so the sun was not out to burn her.

"DRUSILLA!" Angel cried, anger warring with worry as he pulled her roughly back into the room.

"But I wanted to fly!" she sulked, tears filling her eyes. Many had not been able to resist that look, but Angel had practice, so he could and did. But just as her tears threatened to spill over, her mood shifted and she pushed herself into his arms.

"My Angel," she whispered. Angel closed his eyes, hating himself for getting involved with her in the first place.

I don't want this. He pulled away from her. "No, Dru." Forget the 'familiarity' issue, I'm her sire for god sakes! "I can't...no...."

"Spike would!"

"'Always was kind of fickle.'" He was repeating the words of an earlier conversation with Spike in the Magic Box, the shop Giles and Anya had shared back in Sunnydale.

'Lot of trouble for somebody who doesn't even care about you,' he had commented.

'Shut your gob!'

'Always was kind of fickle.'

Dru was pouting now. Darn, he thought with a groan to himself. Drastic measures now--he didn't want her getting upset.

"I'll fly with you in here, Dru."

She smiled brilliantly, happy again, as he spread his arms and 'flew' around the room with her.

. . .

Xander was almost happy, but almost was enough for now. He and Emily sat beneath a tree in the park. After three weeks of regular outings, Xander was used to getting up and out all the time, and he suddenly had energy. He and Emily were comfortable with each other now, except that Xander was unwilling to tell her anything about Buffy. She had no knowledge of her that he knew. Sometimes Willow and Tara, still getting to know each other again, would come along with them, and they would have a fun afternoon of togetherness. Buffy never came along. Something was going on with her that she wasn't telling, and Willow and Xander were a little worried.

It'll all work out, though, he reassured himself.

At the moment, they were alone. Emily was telling a story, and Xander laughed at the funny picture her words painted. Her hands moved animatedly as she talked, and Xander watched in fascination, not listening anymore. On impulse, he reached forward and caught her hands in his, drawing her closer to him. She smiled up at him, content with this arrangement. With Em in his arms, Xander leaned against the thick tree trunk and squeezed his girl's hands.

. . .

Dawn and Amanda were putting on different nail polishes, mostly black and blue. Amanda, who was stick thin and had short, spiky and gelled bright blond hair, was debating black and midnight blue.

"Well, I wore black all last month, so a change would be nice, but I don't know, blue isn't really Gothic."

"How about black with sparkles?" Dawn suggested, trying to be helpful.

"You have to tune into the fashions, D."

D was Dawn's new and very much un-preferred nickname, which Amanda had coined. She winced at the words—all of them—and said quietly,

"I'm gonna go with sparkly blue. Bright blue." It wasn't Gothic, and she knew it, but Dawn had never liked Gothic nail polish—she liked blue and pink and light, cheerful colors. Still, her new friends were Gothic and so she would try to be Gothic too. Amanda made another face of disgust, but she only said,

"Ok. But, hey, there's this party at Julie's tomorrow at 8:00. Everyone's coming-- you should too!"

"Will her parents be there?"

"Who cares? It'll be fun!"

"I don't know..."

"Okay, great! 8:00, remember."

. . .

The red haired vampires were getting stronger. By torturing one, she found that they were a band gone vamp, called The Green-Eyed X's, and their leader was named Top X. Each night they got stronger, and more and more came. Now, just to be safe, Willow and Xander were patrolling with Buffy. Even with extra help, she was outnumbered three to one, fighting nine vampires. There had been more, but she had gotten five and Willow and Xander three together. All the vamps were freckled, red haired, green-eyed, and super strong. Buffy fought and staked two more, chased one away, and wrestled the others off her friends. Three more were unconscious, but the rest were ready to fight.

"Run!" she screamed to Xander and Willow as the vampires closed in on her. They did. She beat up as many as she could and ran as fast as possible to the closest safety: Angel's mansion. There was a gate at the front, and she closed it, put some of the patio bricks against it to block it, and ran into the living room. She sat down on the couch and caught her breath, and when she was a little better, she snuck out the back way and ran home, bruised, battered, and exhausted. One thought blared in her mind as she locked the front door and walked upstairs to her bedroom:

I need help. Giles may have wanted me to do things on my own, but that only works up to a point, and it's a point I'm long past.

. . .

Drusilla was out hunting, while Angel sat in Cordelia's front room across from her. Cordelia, a rich, snotty girl turned penniless and humble, was very pretty and had once been very attracted to Angel, back when she was in high school. She herself was considered a prize, with shoulder-length, black curly hair, vibrant eyes, and good fashion sense.

Sipping a cup of warmed up pigs blood—Angel had long ago given up feeding on humans—he jumped a little as the phone rang. Picking it up, he said in his business voice,

"Angel Investigations."

"Angel?" Buffy gasped out his name as though she was drowning and he was a boat.

"I'm here." He didn't let the surprise show in his voice. Cordelia raised an eyebrow, wondering whom he was talking to. Angel shook his head and turned away.

"What's wrong?"

"Vampires...band called..."

"Oh...."

"You have to come, please! They're too much to deal with on my own, even with Willow and Xander."

"Now? Buffy—"

"I know it isn't the time, it never is, but I need your strength and I need it now."

"Please don't ask me this—"

"I'm asking you. I need your help! That's all, I promise!"

"It's never 'all.'"

"Well, it's going to have to be! Please, Angel!"

"Buffy..." he was practically begging her to let him off the hook, and his voice had gotten louder than he meant it to be. Gunn, back from his latest job, looked very startled. He and Cordelia looked wisely at each other.

"I can't come right now, I'm in the middle of—"

"You want me to die again, is that it?" She was desperate and afraid, and he could hear it in her voice.

His voice softened perceptibly. "You know I don't, of course not!"

"So you'll come?" Hope was infused in her tone.

"I'll come, but you know—"

"I know."

He hesitated a little bit. Should I tell her? Does she really need to know? He took the plunge. "But I might have to bring a...friend."

She was instantly on guard. "A friend? What friend?"

"Drusilla. She's been staying with me."

"Oh. Okay." He could hear what she wasn't saying: 'I can't say anything; it's not my business anymore. I'm not his girlfriend.' Angel sighed.

"I'm not giving her what she wants, Buffy."

On the other side of the phone line, Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you're not?"

"Don't—"

"Fine. As long as you'll come."

"I already told you, I'm coming. Just remember that I don't want to."

"That hurt, Angel."

"Doesn't everything. But it's the way it has to be."

"Stop it! I know that by now, don't you think?" She was on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I know. It's okay, I guess. It has to be."

"We have to stop talking about this."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go."

"So should I." He whispered into the phone, "Remember I love you, Slayer."

"Every minute of every day, I remember. It's what keeps me going. Is the heart still facing inward?"

"It always will be." The claddagh ring, a ring of love and friendship that the Irish people gave to their beloved, was one that both Buffy and Angel wore. When the heart faced inward toward the person, it meant that they belonged to someone.

Angel's face was filled with anguish as he hung up the phone and turned around.

"I have to go. Will you be able to take care of Drusilla? Just let her out at night. I have to go see Buffy. She's in trouble."

"We will, but...are you ok, Angel?" Cordelia had noticed his expression.

"No," he admitted, smiling a small, sad smile. "No," he repeated, and he turned and walked out. Cordy looked sad for his sake.

"I don't know what went on with he and Buffy, but whatever it is, he sure gets upset over it!"

"Yeah," Gunn agreed. He looked after Angel with a slight frown.

. . .

The music was loud rock with a deep-beating drum, and it was blasting. Girls in see-through tops and scanty outfits danced and kissed boys with a lot more than one piercing and strange hair colors. Dawn watched from the sidelines, a little bit uncomfortable. She was very afraid the cops would come—it was 2:00 in the morning and there were plenty of people around her who were roaring drunk. A bunch of teenagers were passed out in the font yard, others were swearing and yelling, and a few were somewhere quiet, throwing up. Smashed beer bottles were everywhere. Those who weren't drunk were off in dark corners doing things she didn't want to think about. Dawn was getting scared.

"Can't we go yet, Ashley?" she asked her friend.

"Oh, not yet—Ben and I are dancing. Maybe in a while." She whirled off. Next Dawn asked Amanda, whose answer was contemptuous and negative. Dawn checked her watch again. 2:10. Surely Buffy was home from patrol by now. She was in the doghouse.

I'll have to walk home, I guess. But she didn't walk. She ran.

. . .

Buffy was pacing the living room, furious. Willow and Tara sat on the couch in front of her. They were all waiting for Dawn.

What was I thinking, letting her get away with all this stuff? I should've said something before! What if she's in real trouble now? Where is she? Buffy thought with a frown. Just then, Dawn burst in, her cheeks red and hair flying, good evidence that she had been running hard.

"Where have you been, Dawn? We were so worried! You could've gotten in really bad trouble!"

"I was..."

"You'd better not lie!"

"At a party at Julie Deen's house. I didn't want to go in the first place but they kind of forced me—"

"No one forced you to do anything, Dawn! Don't you know I've seen what you're doing? Sneaking out at all hours, going Gothic, hanging out with the rough crowd—god! Do you know how many times Willow or Tara or Xander reported seeing you smoking, ­or keying cars, or doing something absolutely crazy? I can't believe you!"

Dawn stared at the ground, ashamed. "I'm really sorry, Buffy," she whispered, in tears.

"Sorry isn't enough. Take all that stuff off—make up, nail polish, Goth clothes—and give me everything you have. I'll be searching your room in the morning. Put in a pile outside your door. You're grounded indefinitely."

Dawn nodded numbly and walked slowly up the stairs. As she went, Buffy turned to Willow and Tara.

"Am I doing the right thing? Was I too harsh? I feel so bad." She sat down and leaned against Willow. Her friends comforted her as best they could...

. . .

Angel took a Greyhound from L.A. to Sunnydale, but he had to stop at hotels and sleep by day. He traveled by night. As he rode, he stared out the window and thought gray thoughts, sinking into depression bit by bit.

. . .

It was four days later. Buffy, Willow, and Tara sat at a table together in the Bronze. Buffy saw Xander dancing with a black haired, smiling young woman and raised her eyebrows at him. He came over.

"I brought a friend," Xander said.

Emily walked over with a confident glance around.

"Hey...you must be Xander's friend Buffy."

"Yup. Hello. Who are you?" Buffy smiled warmly, and the girl smiled back.

"I'm Emily Hawkins, and I'm new here. I'm in college with Willow. Why haven't I seen you there? You should come to some classes!"

Buffy's thoughts ran down old paths as she remembered college—before she had jumped off the demon Glory's tower to close the gates of Hell and save her sister Dawn. She had tried to go back afterwards, but it didn't work. Listening to the other students, she had felt dumb, but she had reapplied anyway. They wouldn't take her. So, after trying several jobs, she ended up frying burgers and taking people's food orders at Doublemeat Palace, a fast food restaurant, to put food on the table and money in the bank. It was a horrible job, and afterwards she smelled like grease and hamburgers. Buffy hated it, but Slaying didn't exactly bring in the bucks. She kept her face blank and said quietly,

"It's a long story. I don't really want to talk about it, ok?"

"Sure." Emily had no problem with that.

"Listen guys, I've gotta go. Umm...work."

"I already knew about you, since I'm Giles' niece. I just hadn't seen you yet. He sent me over to check on you, actually, but I'll be staying for the summer. I already told Xander... So, you're the Slayer, huh?"

"Giles'...niece? Did I just hear you right? Rupert Giles has a niece? Oh my god! He didn't tell me that!"

"Yeah, he likes to keep his secrets." She grinned affectionately. "Anyway, he says he misses you and he hopes you're doing well. He and his girlfriend Olivia moved in together last month."

"Cool!" Buffy exclaimed with typical teenage phrasing. Emily changed the subject.

"So, you're the Slayer?"

"That's me, Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer."

Did I detect some self-mockery there? Willow thought curiously. I hope not.

. . .

The dark streets of Sunnydale felt more like home than Los Angeles ever had. He had missed it here. Without even having to remember the address, Angel headed toward Buffy's.

A few minutes later, he was outside the house he knew so well. A casual observer would've seen only a shadow. Probably only the sharp eyes of another vampire—like the one that was tracking him then—would've seen a tall, dark-haired man in a black leather jacket, skulking around the two-story house on 1630 Revello Drive. Except for one room, it was dark inside. Purely out of curiosity, he climbed up to see who was there, knowing that Buffy's window was on the side. This one was on the front of the house. Buffy's little sister, Dawn, lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The window was open.

"Dawn?" he called. "Invite me in?" Dawn had snapped up to a sitting position, holding a cross out in front of her. He shrunk from it, scrambling to keep his hold on the sill. "It's Angel!"

"Angel? I don't know anyone named Angel. Go away!"

"I'm Buffy's old boyfriend. The vampire with a soul. I don't think we've met, but I presume you're Dawn, the Key. She told me your story."

"Oh, that Angel." She was relaxed and almost happy to see him now.

I guess Buffy does have a high opinion of me, after all. He asked her,

"Will you please invite me in? I can come in the front door or Buffy's room, but I haven't been in your room specifically." Actually, he hadn't tested whether or not he could still get into Buffy's room.

Without waiting for a reply, he said, "I'll be right back." He had to test it.

Angel crouched on the windowsill for a minute, then sprang down and prowled around the room. Her room was dark, but each shape was familiar. Mr. Gordo, the pig who was her favorite stuffed animal. Her bed. Her carpet. There were her shelves, her dresser, and her closet. He remembered the first time he had come into the room, when the life of a normal teenager girl had materialized before his eyes as he looked at everything there. It did so now. She had told him once before that all her material secrets were underneath her pillow, so he looked there. There was a picture of his face, in shadow. He smiled.

So you really do think of me all the time. But then he felt the misery inside him coming again to the front of his mind. The picture was in darkness. It simply accented the fact that he needed the shadows to survive, while she craved the light. Just as Xander envied him Buffy, so Angel harbored a secret jealousy of him. Xander could walk in the sunlight with her; he could not. Angel knew her as the Slayer and his lover, but both were in the cover of darkness. Xander knew her as his best friend and the Slayer, both in sunlight and shadow. He whirled around and began to pace, long, powerful strides that took him the length of the room in three steps. Back and forth, back and forth, he went.

Sunlight and shadow, that's what we are; opposites. She will always live in the brightness of the sun; I will always be in the shadows. I can never have her; I can never love her, again. The solid, ugly facts were like a punch in the gut. As he admitted that to himself, he also admitted the real reason he had come here. He knew that Buffy was at the Bronze. But he had come up to her room to see, one last time, the life she had besides him: The life of a teenage girl. Nothing of the Slayer was here that he could see. Nothing of anyone that he knew. Angel pushed those thoughts away and went back to where Dawn lay in her room, locked in. She had tried to get out before, but it hadn't worked, and she wasn't agile enough to get in and out through the window.

He didn't notice as he left that he had left the picture of himself in the middle of her bedspread, and that the window was still open.

. . .

Page 2 of 4
Read the next part >>

. . .

Fanfiction Index