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Shadows of the Heart (Part 5)
By Erana Zeitler
Erana5128(at)aol.com

Disclaimer: Characters used in this story don't belong to me. Shocking, huh? They belong instead to Joss Whedon. Sad, but true.

. . .

Chapter 5

Everything seemed deathly silent. One moment before there had been sounds of fighting, vampire cries of protest at their sudden unpredicted death. Now everything was still. When the door was open she hesitated, looked back once more at her friends, and wondered at what she wound find within. Would she find it had been worth it, the four years of agony suddenly lifted by the sight of her love, or would she find that her friends had been right, she'd wanted it so badly that her mind had convinced her it was true, when in actuality it had all been a delusion, a simple dream that she'd latched onto eagerly.

There was no point in debating, no point in wondering, no point in doing anything but stepping over the threshold and into the room. Every Slayer sense Buffy possessed was working on overdrive, warning her that what she saw in the room she wasn't going to like. She'd already known that. She took a deep breath, and stepped inside. Her eyes locked onto the corner, where she saw him. Him. Her love, her life-mate, her soul-mate, her every other kind of mate. He was chained to the wall, he was unconscious, and he barely resembled the Angel she had known. He was . . . small. Weak, vulnerable, and just barely alive. She could tell that just by looking at him, knew if one more day had passed she would have arrived here only to find his dead body. Her mouth opened, nothing came out, and then she suddenly emitted a tiny, weak whimper and sank to the ground.

The others were there in a minute, she could vaguely hear them talking, someone was calling an ambulance, Willow was working on the chains that bound him, she thought. It was all so dim, so vague, nothing was connecting in her mind. Nothing. Time slowed down, making each second unbearably long, more like hours then seconds, people talked but she heard nothing, people moved but she didn't see them. Vaguely she felt someone touch her, put their arms around her, whisper something to her, but she couldn't quite make out who it was or even what they wanted. She felt herself rising, standing in the arms that surrounded her, but she knew they weren't the arms she wanted, knew that whoever's arms they were, they weren't the right ones.

In one split moment, one flash, and everything was real again. Giles was checking Angel over, Cordelia had left to call an ambulance, and it was Xander who was holding her. Suddenly unexplainably furious, she whirled on him and began to hit him, not with any Slayer strength or skill, but simply pounding against his chest, her mouth making sounds of rage that no one else could hear, they were trapped in her mind and inaudible. Xander allowed the beating, his arms still around her as she cursed him for not believing her, cursed the world for allowing things like this to happen to her, a simple girl who'd only wanted a normal life. And then she began to cry. She cried against Xander's shoulder, and he allowed it, encouraged it, stroking her hair gently, telling her he was sorry, and that everything would be okay, trying to break through the walls that had gone up around her the second she'd walked into the room.

"Sssshh," he whispered gently, sympathetically, "it'll be okay."

She didn't believe him, didn't believe a word he was saying, yet clung to him like a child, begging him inbetween tears to make everything okay, make the pain go away, make her whole again. And with a child's trust she honestly believed he would, that he could, that she'd wake up and everything would be okay again, everything would be like it had been years ago, before the night that had shattered her world. Before this day, when she'd walked into this room, and seen what had become of her guardian.

It wasn't long before there were paramedics, she vaguely heard them talking, discussing, she vaguely saw the chains around Angel's wrists being removed, fianlly, by some sort of tool, and she even registered them taking him away. To a hospital, no doubt. She couldn't go with them. She wanted to, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Xander's protective grasp, he almost made her feel safe again, he almost made her feel whole. There was only one other pair of arms in the entire world that had that ability . . . only one other person who could make her feel safe in a world where there was no safety.

When she finally managed to stop crying, she wasn't sure how long it had been. All she knew was that she felt empty, there seemed to be nothing left inside her, she had no more tears to cry, no more words to utter, nothing more to say. With the exception of Giles, who she assumed had gone with the ambulance, everyone else was there, watching her. Staring at her, in shock. She wondered why they were so surprised. It wasn't as if she hadn't known, she'd known what she would find when she came here . . . she just hadn't been prepared for it.

"What?" she whispered to them, her lips moved, yet no sound came out of them. She was still too raw, everything too fresh. She closed her eyes and all she could see was him, the aftermath of years of torture . . . something she could have prevented. If she'd only been stronger, been more aware of the world around her, if she'd only trusted her instincts more . . . none of this would have happened. "I have to go," she said quietly, and looked up at Xander. It was he who had doubted her the least, and in that moment she felt as though he was the only one she had left that she could trust.

"Want me to give you a ride, to the hospital?" Xander offered, his hand still on her shoulder.

She couldn't say anything, saying those four simple words before had taken all the energy out of her, had taken everything out of her. Instead she just nodded, allowing him to lead her off, out of the room, away from the memory she knew would haunt her every day of her existance. Outside of the room . . . it was all so bright. The sun was still shining through the open doors she'd opened, the house was still bright and strangely cheery looking for a home to vampires. It wasn't right. It felt surreal. Everything should be dark, dreary, morbid, horrible. How could the sun still shine, after what had just happened? How could the sky still be a lovely bright blue?

"You okay?" Xander asked her, and she had to resist the urge to slap him. It was the stupidest, most inappropriate question she had ever in her life heard. How could she be okay? How could anything ever be okay again? She wanted to say that to him, wanted to yell at him, scream at him, curse him, but she didn't have the energy. She really just wanted to pass out, to slip away and sleep, to go someplace where things like this didn't happen. To go somewhere happy, where the day never ended, where no one ever cried, where nothing bad could ever touch her again. Somewhere out there, there had to be such a place. Somewhere far, far away from the small town of Sunnydale.

It took her awhle to realize she was in Xander's car, and that they were driving. She reached into her pocket for her cigarettes, shakily lit one with her automatic lighter, rolled down the window, and stared outside. Xander didn't say anything more to her, as she watched the world go by. Trees, houses, people inside making breakfast for their families, or arguing over who had to do the household chores. The thought made her begin to laugh, and Xander glanced at her strangely before turning his attention back to the road. Buffy knew she was being hysterical, and she was damn well enjoying it, too.

More houses, more trees, a small cat sleeping on the hood of someone's car, all passed by as Buffy stared out the window, amazed at how normal everything was. So very normal, so very simple, the lives of the people inside. They woke up, grumbled about work, brushed their teeth, went to work, came home, had dinner, watched some TV, and went to sleep. She felt a deep longing in her heart, a burning desire to be like the people on the inside. The people who were normal. The people who's loved onces weren't tortured, the people who's largest worry was making the rent on their house. God, how she wanted it. To simply exist, to know nothing . . . it had to be the closest thing to heaven there was on earth.

"We're there," Xander said to her, snapping her out of her daze. She looked up at the large hospital, he just barely stopped the car before she got out, and waited for him. Xander came out a moment later, his arms encircling her shaking body as he lead her towards the door. She turned around for a second, hearing the sounds of a familiar car, and saw Cordelia's. The others were inside, she realized, and she vaguely wondered how they were. What they were feeling knowing that she had been right. Buffy only wished she could take some pleasure in that, take solace in the fact that once again her dreams had shown her the way. She felt none. She didn't even feel upset, or angry, not anymore, she just felt empty. As though there were nothing left inside of her, nothing but long lost dreams she could never have.

Giles was there, waiting by the front doors of the hospital. He walked towards them. "Buffy, are you alright?" he asked her, deeply concerned. She wanted to laugh again, wondering why everyone kept asking her that same stupid question.

"Fine," she said tightly in reply, her eyes locking with his. Giles was startled by what he saw in those blue depths, or, rather, what he didn't see. Her eyes looked . . . dead. Lifeless. She felt Xander's arms leave her waist, and saw him gesture for Giles. The two walked away from her. She watched them for a moment, then turned and sat down on a chair nearby, unable to bring herself to care what they were saying.

. . .

"She is majorly out of it," Xander said as soon as they were away from the emotional wreck that was the Slayer. "She didn't say a word the whole ride over here."

"I - I can imagine she wouldn't," Giles stammered in reply, shaking his head slightly.

"How is he?" Xander asked, quietly, worried that Buffy would overhear. He dared a glance in her direction, and saw that she'd sat down some ways away, showing no interest in their private conversation.

Giles shook his head. "I had to make up some information, of course, and I'll have even more problems coming up with some explanation for his . . . condition. As for how he is . . . there's some pretty extensive damage. He hasn't woken up, which according to the doctors is good, considering the amount of pain killers they've put him on. She - she won't be able to see him for quite some time, at this point they're allowing no visitors."

"But he'll live, right?"

"I - I believe so, yes," Giles answered. "Although if we had come even a day later . . . " he trailed off for a moment. "There's extensive blood loss . . . 'strange' wounds to his neck, of course, caused probably by a barbeque fork." That caused Xander to smile slightly. "Other then that, some broken bones, an apparently quite serious spinal cord problem that will require physical therapy, and he weighs less than one hundred pounds at the moment."

Xander bit his lip. "Ouch," he murmured.

"Quite," Giles nodded in agreement. "How is she?" He looked towards Buffy to make his meaning clear.

"I told you, out of it," Xander replied. "One second she was crying hysterically, you saw that, next second she was just . . . not there. She smoked on the way over here, which I'm taking as a good sign, but other then that she didn't even move." He shuddered slightly. "I'd say she's almost worse off then he is right about now."

"I'd noticed." Giles and Xander both glanced at the Slayer, who was still staring straight ahead in her seat, then both turned when the doors to the hospital opened once more, and the rest of the Slayerettes piled inside. Willow went over to Buffy, while the others headed towards Giles and Xander.

"What's going on?" Cordelia asked, looking at Xander, who immediately wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his shoulder as she looked at Giles. He filled them in on Angel's condition . . and Buffy's. "Looks like a lot," she finally murmured, without much enthusiasm. She glanced towards Willow and Buffy. "Are we sure Will's the person who should be doing the comforting on this?" she queried uncertainly, looking up at Xander.

Xander shrugged. "She's Will. She was wrong. She'll admit it, and then she'll do her best to make Buffy feel better." He bit his lip slightly. "That's all she's been trying to do for four years."

. . .

"Buffy?" Willow slowly sat down in a chair beside the Slayer and reached for her friend's hand. Buffy glanced up at the hacker, offered her a half smile that turned out more of a grimace, and focused her attention back on nothing. "Look, I know . . . Buffy, I'm so sorry," she finally said. "I shouldn't have doubted you, and I did, and I wasn't there for you when you needed me, and . . . I'm sorry."

Buffy finally turned around, paying serious attention to Willow for the first time. "It's okay," she said quietly. "You couldn't have known. Why wouldn't you think I was nuts? That's all you've been thinking for two years, why stop now?"

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed, shocked that she thought that. "That's not true. You know that. I thought you were refusing to move on, yes. Way too into your grief, yes. I never thought you were nuts. I never doubted your ability's, ever. At least, not until now."

"Will, I - I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. Really. I totally do. More than you'll ever know. But it's not going to work. I . . .God, even I didn't really believe myself, you know that? I was pretty sure, yeah, but I . . . I never expected what I saw in that room, I never even really expected to find Angel at all. All I knew for certain was that he was alive. The rest was just . . . just vague thoughts."

"But you trusted yourself enough," Willow reminded her. "You went through with it, you went, and you saved Angel's life."

Buffy shook her head. "You really see it that way?" she asked, surprised. "I should have trusted myself when Spike and Dru first told me they'd killed him. I never . . . I never REALLY believed it. Maybe that's why I couldn't move on. I never really believed he was dead, because in my heart I knew I'd feel it, somehow. I knew if he was dead, I would know. But I didn't trust myself enough to really go into it. I just assumed I WAS refusing to move on, or accept it, I never . . . " She trailed off, feeling more tears come to her eyes, and she reached out for Willow, gripping her hand tightly, desperately needing her friend's comfort.

"I know," Willow said quietly. She touched Buffy's face gently. "I know. Buff, you couldn't have known."

"You're missing the point here, Will," Buffy replied simply. "I should have known. I did know, I just didn't trust myself anymore then you trusted me, really."

Willow winced at her choice of words. "I'm sorry, Buffy," she said again.

Buffy sighed. "It's not your fault, Will. I'm the one who's been on major bitch mode lately. More than lately, actually. You'll never know how much I appreciate you sticking with me for so long, but I'm gonna have to be really selfish one more time, if you don't mind."

"What do you need?" Willow asked immediately, willing to do anything in her power to make up for not having faith in her friend.

"I - I know you've been sending out your application, trying to get away from the lovely town we live in, and . . . Will, I really need you here right now. I can't get through this without you. I can't . . . you know I love you, Willow. You're like the sister I never had, and, well, I really need my sister right now. Please?"

Willow looked surprised for a moment. "Buffy, I'd never even think about leaving now. I was just upset before, but I wouldn't leave now. No way. You know that."

Buffy smiled weakly, and wrapped her arms around Willow, hugging her tightly before pulling away. "I really don't know what I'd do without you, you know that? I really don't. I'm sorry about before, I mean, you had no reason to believe me, I certainly wasn't exactly winning any 'Rational Thinking' awards."

Willow gave a half smile at her joke, then sighed. "Buffy, are you okay?" she asked intently, wondering how much of this was just an act.

"Everyone keeps asking me that," Buffy muttered in annoyance. "No, Willow, I'm not okay. At all. In the least. But I can't afford to be a basketcase right now, I realized that while I was being a basketcase." Willow smiled once more. "Right now, I just need to take a few deep breaths every two minutes, probably smoke about ninety cartons a day, and focus on Angel. I think in the grand scheme of who's suffered more, he definitely wins hands down. I want to be there for him, Willow. I finally have him back, after four years, I finally have him with me, and he needs me. It's time I was actually there for him."

Willow frowned. "Yeah," she agreed, "but you also need to be there for you. I mean, you can't exactly help anyone if you're not helping yourself, too. You need to heal just as much."

Buffy looked skeptical. "Really?" she asked dryly.

"Don't get sarcastic," Willow chided her in a motherly tone. "I'm serious. Not physically, but emotionally, face it, Buffy, you're not quite good yet. You've been through a lot today. Way too much. Actually, you've been through a lot, period. Everday. And to be honest I don't think you're really taking in everything yet."

"What's there to take in?" Buffy retorted. "Angel was tortured for two years, it was my fault, now he's out, now I'm here hoping he'll be okay, because I royally fucked up. I'm there, I'm absorbing it."

"Buffy, stop it," Willow said firmly, her voice taking on a certain edge. "You're not going to sit here and feel all bad for yourself. That's just selfish, and you know it. You said you want to be there for Angel, well, then, stop blaming yourself for this. It's NOT your fault, it's not anyone's fault but Spike and Drusilla . . . they're dead. So don't start in with anymore of that . . . 'If I'd trusted myself' . . . stuff. Okay? Or I'll be on the next plane out of here." She saw a bit of anger flash across Buffy's face and quickly added, "And don't start with the bitchy stuff, either," in her now legendary tone of anger.

Buffy shrinked into her seat. "I'll be good," she said meekly, but with a hint of a smile on her face.

"Good," Willow said, nodding. "Now go smoke."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked in surprise, she'd never thought she'd hear those words from Willow's lips.

"I said go smoke. You need one right now. Go outside, go kill your lungs, go beat up on the building some, then come back, we'll find out how he is, and we'll go from there. Deal?"

Buffy rose from her seat, shaking her head. "Yes, ma'am," she said meekly.

"Good." Willow nodded once as Buffy left, then sighed and leaned back tiredly, wondering how she was going to keep Buffy together and in one piece through whatever was to come when Angel woke.

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