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Shadows of the Heart (Part 7)
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 7

Hours ago, Buffy had been almost desperate with the need to see Angel. Now that the moment was actually at hand, however, she found herself feeling nothing but dread. She closed the door to the hospital room behind her before actually looking towards the man she had missed so desperately for four long, excruciatingly painful years.

He was hooked up to a great amount of equipment, but the Slayer didn't register any of the medical instruments surrounding him. All she could see was his face. His beautiful, angelic face. She closed her eyes for a long moment before stepping closer to him, reaching out one slender hand to caress his cheek. He looked so weak, so vulnerable. She felt ill. How could this small, hurt, injured creature be the same man who'd saved her life more times then she could count?

The knowledge that this was her fault hit her like a ton of bricks and her mouth fell open in shock. She'd known before that she was responsible for this, but she hadn't felt it in such intensity until that moment. And she knew that if she didn't get out of this hospital room right NOW she was going to be sick. Turning on her heel, she ran out of the room, down the corridors of the dimly lit medical facility, and out the door. Breathing heavily, she rested her hands on her knees and doubled over. Never had she ran that fast in her life, and she doubted she ever would again.

Trembling, she grabbed for the cigarettes in her pocket and pulled one out, lighting it with shaking hands as her eyes filled with tears at the knowledge that she couldn't do this. She couldn't help him. She couldn't save him. She wasn't strong enough.

"Buffy?" The sound of the voice made her drop her Marlboro, and she reached down to pick it up before turning. As soon as she saw the owner of the sound that had distracted her, the cigarette one again fell from her hands, only this time she made no move to pick it up, instead entirely forgetting it's existance.

"Angel?" she gasped.

The man in front of her smiled. "Did you think I'd make you do this on your own?" he asked her gently, touching the side of her face the same way she'd touched his moments ago in that hospital room.

"You ... you can't be real," she whispered, blue eyes wide. "You're NOT real!" The last was said in a shout as she took a shocked step away from him.

Angel just continued to smile, exuding calm and peace. "I'm as real as you are, Buffy Summers," he told her calmly. "I'm as real as anyone." He held out his hand to her, but she just stared at it in shock. "Buffy," he said affectionately, "I'll always be here when you need me."

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, I JUST saw you, Angel ... I mean, not Angel, 'cause you're NOT Angel. What are you, some kind of shape shifting demon or something? I'm not that gullible, you moron."

His face fell, and his eyes filled with tears. "Come on, lover, don't tell me you really believe that ... that miserable creature in this hospital is really me? You know I'd never do that to you, I'd never put you in the position of taking care of me. That's not how I am. I take care of you, Buffy. That's the only reason I have for existing."

Buffy blinked back tears. "This can't be real," she whispered, but her voice was more hesitant now, less certain.

"Would I lie to you?" he asked simply. "Trust me, Buffy. When you trust me, you'll trust yourself."

She nodded uncertainly. "I do trust you," she whispered. "I've always trusted you."

"Then that's your answer," he replied.

"Buffy?" The Slayer turned away from Angel to see Xander walking towards her. "Who are you talking to?" he asked, confused.

Buffy spun back around, but Angel was no longer there. Putting a hand to her head, she looked back towards Xander. "No one," she answered quickly. "Didn't I tell you to go home?"

Xander looked like he wanted to say more, but decided against it. "I did," he said instead, "Cordy's not home, so I figured I'd just come back here. Have you seen Angel yet?"

The question caused Buffy to pale, and she shook her head. "I ... I don't know," she responded.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know!" she shouted, suddenly angry. "Just leave me the hell alone!" Turning, she stalked back into the hospital, leaving a confused Xander to stare after her.

. . .

Cordelia sat at the bar, downing her seventh drink in one swallow before asking for another. "So of course, he's gotta be all 'there for her'," she complained to the bartender, her eyes narrowing as she tried to focus on his face. "And, sure, I mean, if Xand was tortured or somethin', I'd want someone there for me ... how can I be angry about that? What right do I have to be jealous? None, that's right," she continued, answering her own question. "None at all. After all, nothing's wrong with me, so why should be care about what I'm doing."

"Sounds like this guy's a royal asshole," the bartender commented, licking his lips at the sight of the beautiful drunk woman.

Cordelia looked up and smiled. "Yeah!" she agreed vehemently. "I can't even think of the last time we had a real conversation. Sure, I mean, I'm not Buffy ... I'm not blonde, for one, I don't smoke like a chimney, I don't have all that many issues ... but I'M the one who's his girlfriend. I'm the one who loves him. But does he care? Of course not. It's all about the blonde little slut."

The bartender raised an eyebrow at the anger in her tone. "I thought you said you were friends with her?" he asked curiously.

Sighing, Cordelia nodded. "Well, yeah, I am," she admitted. "I don't really think she's a slut, but ... ya know, what do I have to do to get Xander to dote over me the way he does over her? It's not fair! Just 'cause I'm not dealing with any emotional crap ... it's so sickening." She took a sip of the drink in front of her, not questioning how it had gotten there.

"Well," the bartender said thoughtfully, "what if you came up with an issue?"

Cordelia blinked blurrily. "Huh ... what do you mean?"

"According to you this Xander guy is only paying so much attention to Buffy because he thinks she needs him. So why don't you start to need him the same way?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like what way?" she asked. "I'm not gonna lie to him ... it's not me. 'Sides, I'm a terrible actress, he'd see right through me."

"I thought you were trying to become one?" the bartender queried.

"Oh, I am," she said with a slight wave of her hand. "Doesn't mean anything ... it's just the only thing I could think of. I'm not good at anything."

"I seriously doubt that's true," the bartender said, trying to placate her. "You're a beautiful, bright, intelligent young woman. I'm sure there's plenty you're good at."

"Sex," Cordelia replied simply. "I'm damned good at that."

"So, try prostitution."

Cordelia shot her head up, to see the bartender's smirk and she had to smile. "I may just do that," she said, then laughed. "But seriously ... it's like, we've been together since HIGHSCHOOL, ya know? And never once has he ever paid me as much attention as he does to her. Just 'cause she's the Slayer ... "

"The WHAT?"

"The Slayer," Cordy replied, "she fights the forces of darkness and stuff."

The bartender gently took Cordelia's drink away from her. "I think you've had enough," he told her.

"Oh ... oh, yeah," Cordelia mumbled. "Ssshhh ... it's supposed to be a secret!" she told him, nodding. "Anyway, so, what do you think I should do? Really? Just sit back quietly while he goes and falls in love with her AGAIN?"

"Absolutely not," the bartender answered. "What you need to do is make this guy feel needed. Make him realize that YOU need him more then this blonde girl."

"How, though?"

The bartender shook his head, "I have no idea ... and that's rare."

She sighed heavily. "Am I being a bitch?" she asked. "She DOES kinda have some major issues ... so am I wrong to feel all betrayed by it?"

"Hey, feelings are feelings, there's nothing wrong with them," the bartender replied, then frowned, "God, the more time I spend here the more like a psychiatrist I sound."

She giggled. "Well, you can give me advice any time," she assured him with a smile before standing.

"You're not driving, are you?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

Cordelia nodded. "I don't want anyone knowing I'm drowning myself in my sorrow," she said. "But don't worry, I'm not drunk enough to drive ... er, uh, I mean, I'm not so drunk that I can ... can't ... drive."

"Sit back down," the bartender told her firmly. "I'll call you a cab."

"And leave my car sittin' out here all night? No chance in hell! Look, really, I'll be fine ... and if I crash, well, then, I'll need Xand," she said with a small smile.

"You're not leaving here like this," the bartender said. "I could get sued if I let you ... 'sides, you might kill some poor innocent person and face life behind bars and years of guilt, all that crap. Hey ... why don't I call Xander to come pick you up?" he suggested. "This way you'll kinda need him, anyway."

Cordelia's eyes brightened. "Good idea!" she exclaimed.

"What's his number?"

"Hmpf ... just call the hospital ... that's where he lives now," she muttered darkly before sititng back down on her stool.

. . .

Giles was patiently reading through a book on prophecy when the door to the library swung open and Willow walked in. "Hey, Giles," she said, sounding to be in a rather good mood.

"Willow," he answered with a nod. "What are you doing here?"

"I have some research to do," she told him. "Literal, actual research, not demonic research."

"Oh? On what?" Giles queried, rising to his feet.

"Nothing much, just some stuff for Abnormal Psych," she replied, heading towards the books lining the wall.

"Abnormal Psych?" Giles asked, sounding puzzled. "I didn't know you were taking that course."

"I'm not. It's for Buffy ... I had some spare time, figured I might as well help her out with schoolastic things, since she's not paying any attention to it."

With a concerned look on his face, the Watcher walked towards her. "Don't you think that's being a bit too helpful?" he questioned. "I think Buffy is more than capable of doing her own research."

"No, she's not," Willow said flatly. "Look, I know you're just being nice, but Xand is doing the whole 'stay with Buffy' routine, and I want to be able to help her, too." She sighed and turned away from the books. "I feel terrible, Giles. I mean, don't you? We were both so mean to her when she said Angel was alive."

"Willow, that's hardly your fault." Giles took her hand and lead her towards a chair. "How were we to know?"

She closed her eyes. "We should have trusted her," she retorted. "What kind of friend am I that I didn't even want to hear her? A terrible one. I just want to make it up to her. This was the only way I could think of."

"Will, you shouldn't be putting your life on hold because of Buffy," Giles told her firmly.

Willow looked up, surprised. "How am I putting my life on hold? I'm just doing some research for her ... it's a fascinating class, anyway, I don't mind ... "

"That's not what I meant," he said, interrupting her. "I'm talking about your decision not to transfer."

Her eyes widened, "I couldn't leave, Giles. She needs me ... I'm just supposed to forget about my best friend? I can't do that."

"She does not need you," Giles replied. "Willow, Buffy is twenty-one years old. She's also the Slayer ... more then capable of taking care of herself. I'm just concerned that you're not paying more attention to YOUR future. And you have a very bright one ahead of you. I hate to be so blunt about this, but Buffy's not going to be alive forever, and I don't think you should be basing life decisions on her."

The truth of Giles' words caused Willow to sigh. "Sunnydale Community is a good school, Giles," she told him after a moments pause.

"I'm not denying that," Giles answered. "But you can do SO much better, Willow. I hate to see you giving up so much of yourself for her."

"She asked me to stay."

"And what about a year from now?" Giles asked. "Your requirements will be fulfilled and you'll be ready to move on. Will you?"

"Of course I will!"

"What if she asks you to stay, then?" Giles queried. "As the Slayer, Buffy has a very, very difficult live. There's no denying that. You, however, are not the Slayer, nor are you under any obligation to help her. She's always going to want you to be with her, and that is perfectly understandable. But what about what YOU want?" Before Willow could answer Giles stood. "Just give it some thought, Willow," he told her, then grabbed the book he'd been reading from and walked out.

Willow sighed once more, resting her head on her arms as she stared off into the distance.

. . .

Angel was dreaming.

It wasn't a nightmare, which he'd grown so used to that he could hardly even referr to them as nightmares they were so common place, but instead just a simple, innocent, and actually rather sweet dream.

He was standing by the water on a beautiful, breathtaking night. It was one of those nights that made him glad to be alive. As lovely as sunlight was, he'd spent so much time in the darkness that he'd grown to like it better. Strange and unexplainable, but he couldn't deny that truth.

"Enjoying the view?" Buffy asked, coming up behind him.

He smiled at the sound of her voice, nodded once.

"Still the same Angel, I see," she commented with amusement. "So very talkative. Did I ever tell you that's one of your far less endearing qualities? The way you just go on and on ... " She gave a half smile before sitting down on a bench nearby.

Angel followed her. "I'll work on that," he answered.

Buffy shook her head and closed her eyes for a long moment. "When are you going to wake up, Angel? You know you have to eventually, right? You can't sleep forever."

"I know."

"I need you." Buffy waited until he turned to look at her before continuing. "You have to know that this is driving me insane ... that I still love you desperately."

"You shouldn't."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy stretched her back. "There is no such thing as 'shouldn't' when it comes to love, Angel. Haven't I taught you anything? Love is undeniable. And no matter what you do, I'll always love you."

"Why?" Angel asked, genuinely curious.

"I can't tell you that," Buffy replied with a small smile. "But I know of someone who can, someone who wants to, desperately. I'll give you a hint, she looks EXACTLY like me. Right down to the annoying nose."

"Your nose isn't annoying," Angel told her, amused.

"Ugh, it so is! Definitely my worst feature." Nodding, she rested her head on Angel's shoulder. "I know you're in pain, Angel," she said softly. "I am, too. You're the only one who can help me ... I'm the only one who can help you. It's always been that way. Always will."

"I don't think I want this," Angel said, suddenly. She looked at him in surprise. "Humanity ... I don't deserve it."

"No," Buffy agreed. "No, you don't. But you know what, Angel? You have it. And you may not deserve to BE human, but don't you think I deserve to have you be human?"

Angel frowned. "I never thought of it like that."

"You should," Buffy said.

With those words ringing in his ears, Angel slowly opened his eyes to find a blonde head resting on his arm. Reaching out, he touched that soft blonde hair reverently, amazed to find it was really true, she was really there. He pulled his hand away when she slowly began to wake herself, and her eyes locked with his.

"Angel?" she whispered.

. . .

Page 7 of 7
To be continued...?

. . .

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