Fallen Angels

By Kristi

A Long Climb

@--Buffy--@

I eat a little, mostly to make Angel stop worrying. I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the saddest thing in the world. The tea is good. He put something alcoholic in it and I’m grateful. It makes my bones straighten out and loosens my skin just a little bit.

The nausea comes again and I try to will it away. Just how many times can I throw up on this man before he gets tired of it. It’s not working. I’m going to throw up again. I lurch up out of the bed and almost fall. Angel catches me and carries me to the bathroom. He waits with me while I throw up. He never stops touching me. I look down at myself and am disgusted. I don’t want him to remember me this way, whether he leaves, or I die. I want him to remember me in my pink dress at the prom. It has been a lifetime since I was that girl.

“Angel, do you remember my prom?” My voice sounds small.

He smiles a very sad smile. “Every detail. You have always been beautiful to me, but that night there were no words for how lovely you were.”

“I was glad you came, even though I knew you were leaving me afterwards. I don’t know if I ever told you that, that I was glad you came.”

He looks down at his feet, like he is going to say something, but he doesn’t. I wonder what he was thinking about saying. Was he sorry he left me? Did he know that’s when everything started to come apart for me?

“Angel, can I take a bath?”

“I’ll draw one for you.” He begins looking in the cabinets for bubble bath, soap and shampoo.

“Hot, please.” I draw my bony knees up to my thin chest and wrap my arms around them. I watch him. I have forgotten what it is like to have beauty like him in my life.

He fills the tub with vanilla scented bubble bath and my chest aches. I remember that smell. It was my favorite before I got lost. He squats down in front of me and takes my hands in his.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks.

For a minute I wonder if he means forever or just while I take a bath. I decide, and hope, he means while I take a bath. I nod. “But stay close?” It is a question, a request.

He nods and stands up. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything, please call.”

I stand up on shaky legs and take his shirt off. I avoid looking in the mirror as I step into the steaming bath. The bathtub is a very deep, old fashioned claw foot one. I don’t remember the last time I took a hot bath like this. The water in Mike’s apartment is brownish and tepid at best. It did not inspire long soaks.

I can hear Angel. He is pacing slowly outside the bathroom door, probably brooding. He is making good on his promise to stay close. I wonder, briefly, if I could drown in the tub. I’m afraid after everything I’ve done in my life I really would go to hell this time and Willow wouldn’t be around to pull me back. I sent Angel to hell. I think that’s when I started dying. I’d sent the man I loved more then anything else in this world to hell and no one cared. Xander was even happy. Everyone thought I should just move on. How was I supposed to move on when my heart and soul were in hell?

There is a soft knock on the door. His voice comes through. “Buffy, are you okay?”

I lean forward, pulling my knees to my chest. I wonder if I don’t answer will he come in. Then I decide that’s cruel. He’s obviously worried about me. “I’m fine.”

There is a pause and then he asks, “Can I come in? I’ll sit with my back turned. I just-“ he stops. I know what he means. He is afraid I’ll leave again. I am well acquainted with the feeling.

“It’s okay. There are lots of bubbles.” I say.

He opens the door a crack and peeks in before walking all the way inside. He shuts the door and sits on the toilet with his back to me. He has always been a gentleman and I am reminded he grew up in a different time.

“Angel, why didn’t you hate me when I sent you to hell?” I ask.

He is silent for a moment. I do not think he is going to answer me. Finally he speaks. “I could never hate you, Buffy. No matter what you do to me. You are my salvation. You saved me, in every way a person can be saved. Besides, I knew if you were sending me to Hell, you had to. You would never do that unless there was no choice. I knew that even when you ran the sword through me, and I forgave you.”

My eyes tear at that. I can’t forgive myself. That’s just one of the many weights I carried on my shoulders when I leapt into that portal. It had been such a relief to just let go of it all.

“What’s it like?” I asked.

“What?” He’s playing dumb with me, hoping I’ll forget the question or I’ll come to the conclusion he’s uncomfortable with it and drop it.

“Hell, what’s it like.”

“Buffy, you don’t really want to talk about this right now.”

Correction, he doesn’t want to talk about this right now. I want to know where I’m going to go when I die, again. I want to know what to expect. “Will you tell me, some other time.”

He sighs. “Sometime, when you’re feeling better, I’ll tell you. Lean forward, I’ll shampoo your hair.”

*

It isn’t long before my skin is crawling again. My body has decided to take up another rebellion at the lack of heroin in it. I can’t fight it this time. I’m not strong enough. I sit on the bed, huddled against the headboard. I am shivering, cold sweat poring from me. Sobs wrack my body and sometimes I can only sit and scream. Angel is huddled there with me, his arms around me, pulling my body back against his. He holds my arms so I can not tear at my hair and claw at my already raw skin.

The door opens and someone rushes in. I can not see who it is. My head is tucked into Angel’s chest. A very British voice speaks and I know its Wesley. “Is everything alright in here? We heard screaming downstairs.”

We must mean him and Cordelia. “We’re fine, Wes. Thank you.” That’s Angel. I can feel his words vibrating in his chest.

The door closes again and I wonder if he’s gone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. “Is he gone?” My voice sounds broken and hoarse.

“He’s gone. He was just worried.” Angel says.

I doubt that, but I don’t say anything. Wesley was never worried about me except in my capacity as a slayer. I was just a weapon to him, a weapon to use and then discard in a never ending war against evil.

I do not know how long Angel and I sat like that, huddled together. At some point my body begins to wear out and I start to drift off to sleep. He laid me down on the bed and piled blankets on me. I wanted to tell him he was the only blanket I needed, his body. He lay down beside me and begin to work the tangles out of my hair with his fingers. I drifted off to sleep feeling safer then I had in a very very long time.

*

*

*

@--Angel--@

I slip out of the bed carefully. I don’t want to wake her up. She needs to sleep so badly and at least when she’s asleep she doesn’t try to hurt herself. I go to the small refrigerator in the room and take a bag of blood out. The last time I ate was before I found Buffy and I need to stay strong, for her.

I finish eating . Buffy seems to be sleeping soundly so I go downstairs, leaving the door open so I can hear the slightest sound she makes. I am surprised to find it’s still dark outside. It feels like days have passed.

I walk out into the courtyard to sit. I am surprised to see Fred sitting there too. She smiles at me and I find it is impossible not to smile back at her.

“You’re glad she’s back, aren’t you?” Fred asks. Her Texas twang has lessened but it’s still there.

I nod. I don’t know what to say.

“Cordelia told us she’s the love of your life.”

“She is. She always has been.” I answer honestly.

“Is she going to stay, when she gets better, I mean.” Fred asked.

That’s a question I’ve been asking myself. Buffy and I have always had problems discussing the future. Buffy had always lived in the here and now. It was easy to live that way with her. “I don’t know. We haven’t gotten that far.”

“I know she’s real sick. I’m not snooping, I promise but sometimes I can hear her through the wall. She cries a lot.” Fred sounds apologetic.

“She’s very sick. I hope she’s getting better. I’m doing everything I can to make her better.” I stand up. I’ve been gone long enough. I don’t want her to wake up and realize I’m not there. There have been too many times in her life when I haven’t been there. I acutely regret every single one of them I start to go and turn around.

“Thank you, Fred.”

“Well, what for?” she asks, that confused look on her face.

“Because when I came back, you were the only one who didn’t act like it didn’t matter that she was alive. You’ve always been the only one that didn’t act like I was crazy for spending all this time looking for her.”

Fred laughed that little nervous laugh of hers. “You weren’t crazy, and I know from crazy. You were in love. If I ever found someone who I loved that much, I couldn’t just let them go either.”

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