Nothing else could have floored him more so.
“I died,” Buffy continued, “and Willow and the others brought me back a few months later. You found out that I was alive, and you called me, and asked that I meet you there. So I went.”
Anguish flooded him and he stared at her in wondrous horror. “You died.”
“I’m here now,” she said simply. “Obviously. It was…hard…at first. But it gets better, every day…mostly. I’m sorry. I was hoping we’d just do the spell and you wouldn’t have to hear about it again.”
“How…?”
She shrugged. “Saving the world…business as usual. A god, a portal…it was a big thing.” He said nothing, just continued to stare at her. “You weren’t there…don’t feel guilty about it,” she continued, sensing he wasn’t going to be forming words in the next few moments. “You were in another dimension or something, rescuing Cordelia I think. It’s fine, really.” He glanced down now, unable to look at her. A moment passed and she put her hand back on his knee. “Hey…it’s fine. I’m back, we’re all okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered emotionally.
She looked at him sadly. “Don’t be.”
“Did you call me? Did I even offer to come help you? Maybe it could have been prevented.” He had to believe that.
“I told you a bit about what was going on at the funeral, but Angel, you had your own problems. We recognized that. If I’d seriously needed your help, if I’d known what was going to happen…I would have called you. But…we knew we couldn’t keep running to each other every time something got big and ugly. It hurt too much. We agreed on that.”
He wanted to be sick. The Angel of today had lost her again…in a more permanent way, and he’d survived. He survived…and apparently moved on to Cordelia. The thought made him nauseous now and he blanched.
“Everything’s so confusing,” he admitted a moment later, and she chuckled.
She smiled wryly. “I can’t imagine why.”
“It’s not a joke, Buffy. There are things about me now…my life…it’s unbelievable.”
“Like what? You’ve got a good group here, working with you…friends…and a fabulous place to live.”
“It’s more than that…relationships…family…”
She didn’t know what he was referring to, and sensed that he wasn’t ready to discuss it yet, if at all. Instead she squeezed his hand, shivering at the electricity that passed between them. “You’re a good person Angel. You’ve always been a good person.”
“Not always,” he reminded her morosely.
“As long as I’ve known you,” she insisted, her tone stern. “I don’t know what the you of now is like…but he can’t be that bad. And…we all make mistakes. It happens. My life as of late hasn’t exactly been the road to wellville…but I’m working on it. Angel…you came to my mom’s funeral, and you stayed with me. You didn’t have to…our lives were already taking different directions then, but you did it. And when you found out I died, you told me you went away for months to mourn for me. To Sri Lanka or somewhere…spirit-y like that. You don’t do that for people you don’t care about.”
He didn’t answer her so she went on, casting an eye down at the lobby. “You have a lot of friends here, and as past experience would tell me, it’s hard to keep friends when you’re being a jerk most of the time.” She chuckled. “Besides, Cordelia would put you in your place if you got an attitude, don’t you think?”
He tensed at the mention of Cordy’s name. “It’s more than that. I can’t put my finger on it…but there’s something eating at me. The last thing I remember is being on a huge mission of redemption and helping the hopeless, and now I find out that things aren’t exactly where I think they should be…not that life ever really turns out that way…and I’m left with all these emotions that I know aren’t real but they feel real.”
“I think you might be over-analyzing this,” she began.
“No, I don’t think so. Take Wesley,” he said suddenly. “Did you know that he and I apparently had a huge falling out last year? Big time stuff. Kidnapping, me trying to kill him. Does that sound like a friend?” Before she could answer he went on. “And then there’s Connor…and Darla…and Cordelia…and these people who I don’t know, like Fred and Lorne.”
“Darla?” she echoed.
“I know I’m going to get my memory back soon, but do I really want to? I mean, honestly…I’m not so sure that’s the best thing. What I remember now is being relatively happy. I don’t think that’s going to be the case when my memory returns. I think it’s going to be harsh, maybe painful.” He was rambling now, on a roll, and she stared at him as he stood suddenly, took the steps to the second floor and began to pace. Watching him from her viewpoint, sitting a few feet down from him, she saw the internal struggle clearly evident on his face, the anguish at knowing and not knowing what his life had become.
“Angel,” she tried again. “Wait, calm down.”
“Buffy, what if I get my memory back and I’m miserable?” he asked her suddenly, stopping in front of her.
“Why would you be?” she asked, rising to her feet and walking the three steps to his side.
“Because what I know, right now, is that my life is…complicated.” That damned word.
“Name a day our lives aren’t complicated,” she challenged.
“I have…things in my life now, that I don’t understand. Things that can’t be possible.”
“What are you talking about?”
He ignored her. “From what I’ve been told I’ve alienated my way of life, my mission, for a vengeance gig against this law firm that likes to meddle in my life and it’s gotten me no where. I’ve lost friends, I’ve done things…to people…that I shouldn’t. I’ve got Connor to look after now, and I don’t even remember him being born, Darla’s dead, I’m making moves on my best friend…do you even know how confusing this is to deal with when you don’t remember? And then I start thinking…hell, that sounds pretty damn awful! Maybe you should just stay like this, blissfully ignorant and just fumble your way through the rest of the details. Can’t be that bad…you know?” He was pacing again and she watched him move like a mad man further and further down the second floor hallway.
“Angel…stop,” she ordered. “Stop.”
He looked up at her in surprise and halted in the middle of the hall, a mere twenty feet from her.
“You’re not making sense. Of course you want your memory back.”
His eyes darkened in a way she hadn’t seen in quite some time, danger behind them. “I slept with Darla, Buffy.”
Her mouth fell open before her nose crinkled in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“No…I slept with her recently. She was back. That’s what they told me. Fred and the others. She came back, Wolfram & Hart found a way and they did it. To torment me. It worked. I slept with her. Lorne says I was in a bad, bad place, a place so dark he didn’t even want to read me because it was too much, too empty there. I tried to end it. All of it. I tried to lose my soul.”
Buffy had nothing to say to that, so stunned her mind couldn’t work around his statement.
“Why would I want to remember that? Why would I want to remember being in such a dark place that I’d turn to her? That I’d risk so much?” He took a step toward her, then another, prowling ferally until he was directly in front of her. Leaning in, eyes locked on hers, he reached for her hand, the sizzle sparking instantly as flesh touched flesh. “Every time,” he mused softly and her gaze tore from his eyes to their hands. “Every time we touch…there’s a spark. That energy. It’s always been there. Since we first met. What if I get my memory back, and that spark goes away?”
“Angel…I--”
“I think it will…go away. It’s not like that between us now, I know,” he told her quietly. “I made that choice. More than once, I made that choice. I’ve given you up more times than I thought possible.” He didn’t clarify his statement, though he saw the flicker of confusion in her eyes. “But…I remember this,” he told her, turning her hand over in his. “I remember connecting with someone. And now I find out that we don’t talk…that we’re not involved in each other’s lives. What I remember is pain and heartbreak…and loving someone so much I thought it would kill me to be with her…and kill me a thousand time more not to be with her.”
She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes filled with emotion, but he kept going, rotating her tiny hand in his, smoothing it with his long fingers, sending chills up her arm and down her spine.
“I remember, even a year later, still hurting from what we went through, thinking I was never going to get over it…the pain. But that was okay,” he murmured, “because the pain meant that it really happened, that I’d really experienced that with someone, even just once.”
“Angel, we still care about each other,” she whispered. “That hasn’t changed. But we…we moved on from each other.”
“To stop the hurt, I know,” he countered. “But here I am…back again, right there in that moment in time.”
“It’s the spell,” she croaked lamely.
“Is it?” he asked softly, taking her other hand in his. Even though he knew it wasn’t right he let the memories of leaving her at the school, of watching her at Thanksgiving, and then of loving her the next night, wash over him, flood him completely until it was all he could think of. All he knew, all he could remember, was loving her.
Bending down he took her face in his hands and gently brought his lips to hers.
She gasped in shock as his mouth slid over hers, his left hand moving up and tangling itself in her hair, pulling her closer to his body. For a moment she didn’t move, though alarms were going off all throughout her body, until her eyes closed and she let herself fall into the kiss. It was like nothing she’d ever felt and yet exactly like every kiss she’d ever shared with Angel. There was teasing and pressure, giving and demanding, passion and love behind it and she moaned as his tongue sought hers, plunging into her mouth. Her arms instinctively came up to wrap around his neck as she pulled him down to meet her better and he sighed softly, a half-moan, half-growl that sent shivers down her back.
He lifted her up a bit, she let him, and moved her across the way pressing her back against the wall as he leaned in, one hand snaking down to her waist and gripping her there with kneading fingers. Her hips met his and the air crackled around them as the kisses grew more passionate.
“Angel,” she whispered desperately and his cool lips moved down her much warmer neck, teasing and nipping at the flesh as he covered her in kisses. Her leg came up to wrap around his calf, urging him on in what was quickly becoming blind passion.
Hours in cemeteries, nights at the mansion…they all came back to her in one quick wave of memory. To feel…Angel had been able to make her do that. More than Riley’s good-intentioned attempts and heartfelt poetry had done, more than Spike’s rough and tumble method. Never was there fire, never was there electricity, spark, not this instantly, and not so strong. It was almost overwhelming and as his lips moved back to hers, his hand snuck under her shirt and teased the flesh at her waist, moving no further than that spot, but the cool sensation of his fingers was enough to send her back to reality.
“Angel,” she whispered again, giving him one final kiss before turning her head. The motion did nothing to deter him as he moved to her neck once again, and she almost grinned. “Angel…wait.”
“What?” he grunted, taking her ear lobe between his teeth and biting gently.
“Mmm,” she shivered, almost forgetting what she was about to say. “Come on…wait, please.”
Her words finally penetrated and she felt his entire body stiffen with shock. Pulling back he gaped at her. “Oh…God.”
“No…Angel. It’s--”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he stammered, backing up even further. “I had no right…I—I’m sorry.” And with that he turned and stumbled down the hallway and around the corner, running directly into Willow.
“Sorry…sorry,” he continued to mumble, pushing past the confused witch and heading down the stairs.
“Good…morning?” she asked him, glancing from Buffy to Angel’s retreating form. “What’s the hurry?”
Buffy sagged against the wall. “I don’t know,” she said sadly.
Willow peered at her friend. “Are you okay?” Buffy didn’t answer her right away, but the look of misery on her face was unmistakable. “Buffy…what happened?”
Buffy sighed unhappily and looked up at her friend.
“We were talking, on the stairs, and then suddenly he was…babbling.”
“Angel?” Willow asked incredulously.
“I know,” the Slayer said wryly. “It’ll be a good day to spy those flying pigs, I guess.”
“What did he say?”
Buffy let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know exactly. Something about not wanting to get his memory back because he thinks he’s not going to like how his life is now, because too many things aren’t the way they used to be. Then something about that kid, Connor, and Wesley…and Darla.”
“Darla?”
“Yeah…I don’t get it either.”
“So…why did he storm out of here. Well, maybe not storm so much as…trip over his own feet?”
Buffy blushed and a slow smile crept over Willow’s face, accompanied by one arched eyebrow. “Oh…really?”
“It just sorta happened. We were talking, then he was pacing, I got dizzy watching him so I got up…and then we were kissing.”
“That’s…wow.”
“I know. I have no idea what that was all about.”
“Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?”
The Slayer scrunched her nose. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing that game?”
Willow gave her a look and Buffy sighed. “He definitely kissed me,” she admitted. “But I was an active participant. After my body starting working again, anyway. The shock factor was also a major player in our little affair.”
“And then…?” Willow wheedled.
“Then I told him we had to stop, and he did this ear thing that gives me shivers…and we stopped, and he apologized a few million times and before I could tell him it was okay he was running you down and taking the steps two at a time.”
“Well, that’s not good,” the redhead muttered matter-of-factly.
Buffy threw a disturbed glance down in the direction of the stairs. “No…I don’t think it is.”
Willow’s eyes held concern for her friend as she followed the Slayer’s glance. “What do you want to do? I mean…is this a thing, now? Between you two?”
“You mean a relationship? No. Way no.” She paused. “I don’t think so.” Another moment. “Probably not.” Then, “How could it be?”
Willow patted her on the shoulder. “Why don’t we go work on getting that spell taken care of?”
*~*~*
Angel staggered down the steps, furious with himself and yet still completely jazzed by the feeling of her in his arms again, of the taste of her on his lips. He stomped across the floor, unsure where he was going just knowing that it had to be away…away from her until he could get himself under control and apologize to her properly.
And then they were going to get this damn memory spell underway and make sure that this didn’t happen again. She was right. Things would be better once he had his memory back.
He snorted at the thought, letting out a sarcastic laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
Angel turned to find Dawn awake.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” he ordered.
“Yeah, right. Maybe upstairs. My back is killing me.” She stood and stretched, working out the kinks. She caught the enraged expression on his face. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, and stomped back to the office.
She whistled low and turned, tripping over Xander.
“Ow,” he called out, muffled by the arm thrown over his face. He sat up slowly, blinking at the bright lights. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Dawn told him cheerfully. “I’m going to brush the yuck off my teeth.”
He mumbled something in agreement and rolled over to his knees, looking around. “Ahn?” he called.
“I think she slept upstairs, you know…in a bed,” Fred told him, sitting up and wincing at the pain in her neck from a night on the floor.
“Ah, where the normal folk rest,” he responded as he stood. Pointing a finger towards the stairs he trudged toward them. “Bathroom. Shower. Empty bladder. Not in that order.”
Dawn giggled and followed him up the stairs, running into Cordelia as she made her way down them. They mumbled good mornings and the lanky brunette strode across the lobby to the office, on a mission for strong coffee.
“Morning,” she called to Angel as she walked, then stopped at the expression on his face. “You know, between that face and your vamp face…I don’t know which I prefer.”
He grumbled in reply, shifting away from her uncomfortably. Shrugging, Cordelia began to make coffee, turning to face him again when she had a steaming mug in her hand a few minutes later.
“What?” she asked after being under his scrutiny for several minutes.
“Nothing,” he murmured a moment later, and when she busied herself with some paperwork he took up his stare once again.
“Angel,” she said without looking up from the papers before her. “Do I have something on my face?”
“What?”
She glanced in his direction, annoyed. “You’re staring again.”
“No, I’m…”
“What is going on?” she demanded.
He narrowed his eyes at her then crossed the room until they were inches apart. She took a step back, he took another toward her.
“Hey!” she cried, placing a hand to his chest and giving him a shove. “Personal space. Look it up.”
He ignored her and took her hand in his, studying them.
Nothing.
Nothing happened. No spark. No electricity.
Cordelia stared at him as if he’d grown a second head before snatching her hand back. “What is wrong with you this morning? Paws off!”
“Do you know you had a boyfriend for a while?” he asked suddenly.
Cordelia wiped her hand indignantly on her pants and shot him a glare. “What?”
“You. You had a boyfriend, up until this spring. Groo…something.”
“Yeah…so? Fred mentioned that. I don’t remember him, duh,” she snapped.
“And you broke up.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded, and gave a shake of her head. “Yeah? I know.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Did you break up.”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember…remember?” she asked with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “What the hell is up with you this morning? Have you been drinking or something?”
Angel stared at the girl before him when something inside snapped and he blinked self-consciously. Moving to the counter he buried his face in his hands for a moment before looking back up at her. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
She was still glaring at him, half-angry, half annoyed. “Whatever,” she breezed dismissive. “This is what being around her does,” she muttered under her breath as she flipped absently through the case files on the counter. “She comes in town, he loses all sense, all logic, until he’s manhandling his coworkers in the office. Pretty soon it’ll be grr all over again and I’ll be back to telling Dennis that he has to watch whenever Angel comes over, just in case.”
She was still muttering to herself when Dawn walked into the office. “Who are you talking to?” the younger girl asked, glancing around.
Cordelia looked up as Angel rounded the corner of the second floor stairs, headed to his bedroom. “Oh, that…vampire!” she growled, slamming her fist on the counter. “I’m in the middle of talking to him and he just walks away?”
Dawn raised her eyebrows and poured herself some coffee. “Can’t imagine why.”
“You know, this is all your sister’s fault,” Cordelia turned to Dawn accusingly.
“What? What is?”
Cordelia pointed to the stairs. “This! Him!”
“Him, who?”
“Angel!” she cried. “Obviously.”
“Oh…obviously,” Dawn tried again, side-stepping her way toward the door.
“She comes to town and he’s a freak of nature! Moreso than usual!”
“Wait…what? You’re not making any sense.”
Cordelia gave her a look. “It’s the Buffy and Angel dramedy all over again. They’re apart, things are fine. He’s broody and, well…generally grumpy, and that I can handle. That I’m used to. The minute she steps foot over the Los Angeles city line he’s all weird and crazy and invading my personal space and acting like an idiot again.”
“So Angel’s acting weird? Sounds pretty normal to me.”
“No!” Cordy cried. “Not Angel-normal. Non-Angel normal. Buffy-whipped-Angel. That’s what this is,” she gasped, advancing on Dawn until the younger girl was backed up against the wall. “It’s back to Buffy-whipped Angel again, with the angst and the uncertainty and above all else, the damned moony eyes. I didn’t just spend an entire year coaching him through this, getting him over her, to have her step back in and ruin it all.”
“Hey!” Dawn protested. “We’re here to rescue Faith and Spike. And Angel said we could stay here and he’d help. How is it Buffy’s fault that a spell took your memories?”
“I don’t know,” Cordelia said conspiratorially. “But I’m sure I can find a link. Where Buffy walks, Angel should fear to tread.”
Dawn rolled her eyes and moved across the room, keeping a safe distance between herself and the crazed woman. “Yeah…okay. I think you need another cup of coffee…decaf…and maybe some food. It’s probably a blood-sugar thing.”
“Mark my words,” Cordy said sagely.
“Uh-huh.” With care, Dawn backed out of the room and headed for the stairs to seek out her sister.
