Title: For No Reason Why

Author: Jeanny

E-mail: jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Angel through the end of Season 2

Distribution/Archive: Go right ahead, if you like, just let me know where it's going.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, The WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, Inc. and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended. Lyrics are from The Williams Brothers' 'Can't Cry Hard Enough,' written by David Williams and Marvin Etzioni and also, clearly, not mine.

Feedback: Would be much appreciated.

Summary: Performing a small kindness helps Angel grieve Buffy. Based on the Challenge in a Can (http://www.dymphna.net/challenge) challenge: Angel. Hollow. Stereo.

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Angel traced the curves of her face again, trying to imagine the warmth of her skin, rather than the smooth coolness of charcoal and paper. He had been staring for hours at this particular drawing of Buffy. He had drawn her sleeping, her cheek resting on her palm, her cheeks slightly flushed, a slight smile curving her lips. Similar to one he had drawn when he was Angelus, but this one he had drawn recently, from memory. That was the only way he would ever draw her, now.

Angel sighed heavily. He was brooding, as expected, but his heart really wasn't in it. He knew the others were concerned about his stoic acceptance of the news of Buffy's death, and so he was endeavoring to reassure them by retreating into familiar patterns. He was trying to reassure himself, too. Part of his mind was still trying to wrap itself around everything that Willow had told him; another part had accepted the news almost immediately. He had always known she was a Slayer, always known that Slayers had notoriously short careers. Known that Buffy had already had more chances than most. But still, she was the love of his life, he should be shattered, devastated...but all he felt was empty. He was completely void of feeling. Angel fingered the sketch again almost absently and sighed again, the nervous whispers his vampiric hearing couldn't help picking up finally becoming too much to ignore.

"What is it, Fred?" he called. His voice sounded louder and harsher than he had intended, and he heard the girl gasp. He had known she was hovering in the hallway for almost an hour. The others had hung around some too, of course; ever since Willow had left he had felt like he was on a suicide watch. But Fred being there was different, he suddenly realized. She wasn't there to try to help him. There was another reason she was hanging around outside his door, nervously pacing like a caged animal. She needed something.

"Oh!" she exclaimed when he called her name. "I...I didn't want to disturb you...I'm sorry...I should go..." Fred took off running down the hall and he heard her door slam. Only at that moment did it occur to him that it had been the first time she'd been out of her room since they'd shown it to her, and somehow he'd scared her back inside. Angel sighed and stood up, leaving the sketch behind as he slowly walked down the hall and knocked on her door. The knocking sounded more like banging, and it made him wince.

"Fred?" he called, feeling his voice sounded unnaturally loud. He went on at a softer volume, "Fred, I'm sorry I scared you...did you need something?"

"Cordelia said..." he heard through the door, and realized that she must be leaning right against it, afraid to open it. "Cordelia said..." she repeated again.

"What did Cordelia say?" he prompted, hearing only her shallow breathing for a time. When she finally spoke again it came out as a nearly incomprehensible rush.

"She said you could loan me a stereo...I didn't want to bother you, but I haven't heard music in so long, and Lorne loaned me CDs but I don't have any way to play them and I've missed music a whole lot, not as much as tacos but a lot..."

"Fred...Fred?" Angel called, trying to stop the tide of babble but not frighten the girl. "It's okay. I have a stereo...do you want to, you know, come out and listen to your music in the study?"

"Oh," came the frightened reply. "I don't want to bother you...could you move the stereo in here, maybe?"

"I could," Angel acknowledged. "But maybe I'd like to listen to the music too, you know. Maybe we could do that together." A long pause, and then the door opened a crack. One eye peered up at him questioningly, and Angel did his best to seem encouraging. At the same time a part of him was wondering why he hadn't just brought the stereo to her room; why he welcomed her company in his inner sanctum when he had spurned his other friends. *Because it's not about me. It's about Fred, and what she needs. And she needs to be out, with people, and I can help her here.*

Skittish as a colt, clutching a couple of jewel cases to her chest like they might be yanked from her hands at any moment, Fred let Angel lead her back down the corridor to his room, and into his study. He walked over and turned on the stereo for her, then held out his hand. She looked at him blankly for a moment, then realized and opened one of the cases, removing a CD that had no writing on it. Angel looked at her questioningly and she shrugged.

"Lorne made it," she said simply, then frowned. "Cordelia said he burned it, but it doesn't look burnt to me." Angel gave her a tiny smile, which she returned, then slid the CD into the player and hit play. Fred had dropped to the floor and curled up by his leather chair, her hands around her knees, but she hadn't run away. Looking at her in that brief instant, he realized he would sketch her that way later. A few simple guitar chords played him back towards his seat, then a pleasant baritone he didn't recognize began to sing.

Angel sat slowly, his eyes wandering back to the sketch he had done of Buffy. Fred pulled her legs in even tighter, seeming to be listening intently.

Angel looked at her sharply, but Fred's eyes were closed, her face almost rapturous yet forlorn at the same time, letting the music wash over her. He followed her lead, closing his eyes, and visions of Buffy's face popped unbidden into his mind. First the look on her face when he left Sunnydale, then the way she had sobbed when he had told her of the bargain he had made with the Oracles that would mean she would lose her memory of those perfect moments they had shared. It was too much to bear and Angel opened his eyes with a soft moan.

Angel felt something soft and warm against his leg, and realized that Fred had moved closer, leaning her head against him like he was a pillow. He was frozen, unable to move, the lyrics holding him fast as now two voices rose in harmony, each word hammering through his soul.

*For no reason why,* Angel repeated desperately to himself. *No, there was a reason. It was what was best for her...I did it to save her...oh God, why did I think that would save her? All that time we lost...*

Angel heard a noise behind him and turned his head, seeing Cordelia and Wesley standing behind him, wearing matching expressions of concern. He realized immediately that this had been nothing but a set up, but tears were falling anyway, and he couldn‘t seem to stop them.

Cordelia came to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as Fred drew herself up, kneeling to face him, wiping at his tears with her hand, her expression frightened and wondering. He grabbed hold of her hands gently and held on, nodding at her to let her know he wasn’t angry with her, that it was okay between them. He drew surprising comfort from this contact, this warmth, Cordelia's hand lightly caressing his shoulder, Fred's two tiny hands encased in his own. But it was Buffy's touch he craved, Buffy's hand he desperately wanted to be holding and would never hold again. He felt two pairs of arms encircle him as he broke down completely, the only word coming from his lips repeating over and over.

"Why?"

The song ended, and Angel's weeping gradually subsided. Cordelia and Fred released him slowly and left in silence, Cordy escorting the other girl back to her room. Angel heard Wesley walk over to the stereo and shut it off without looking at his friend. He no longer felt numb, and while part of him regretted that, a larger part of him was glad for it. His heart was now filled with grief and anger, but at least he could feel. He looked at Wesley's troubled face.

"I need to get away."

"Of course," Wesley said softly.

"I need time...I need to..."

"To mourn her," Wesley finished softly.

Angel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They regarded each other for a time before Wesley finally spoke again.

"I know a place."

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