RATING:
R (sexual situations, violence)
TIMELINE: This is an AU fic set during the days and
weeks following “Becoming II”.
SUMMARY: Truth lies elsewhere.
AUTHOR’S NOTE (1): I wanted to explore a world where
Buffy did not send Angel to Hell. It’s not a pretty place. This story refers
to events of season 2 (BtVS). The title translates as “There and
Elsewhere”
AUTHOR’S NOTE (2): Thoughts are in italics. Complete
story is available at
http://yseultspassion.com/elsewhere1.htm
THANKS TO: Sharon and Dana who read endless drafts,
Sofia for her astute comments, and Janet who rolled her eyes in all the right
places. Ladies, it’s been quite the journey.
DATE OF COMPLETION: 24 May 2003
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, Yseult’s Passion (http://yseultspassion.com),
and my permission.
DISCLAIMER: Maybe in my next life? Lyrics are from
Enigma’s “Mea Culpa”. Translated by me.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. You can send it to
yseultdb@yahoo.com.
PART I
Je n’ai plus rien. / I have nothing left.
He found her in the LA bus terminal. She was sitting on a hard plastic orange
chair, a duffel bag between her feet, blonde hair hidden by the hood of her
jacket. She sipped idly from a large McDonald’s cup and stared at nothing. As
he watched, she surreptitiously removed a stake from one of the many pockets
in her overalls and slid it into her sleeve. Her eyes swept to the left, to
the right, and finally locked on his. She didn’t move or speak. There was no
sign that she knew who he was (or who he had been) except for the patina of
tears in her eyes.
He approached her slowly, lowered
his bag to the floor, and, wincing, crouched before her. He scrutinized her
face. Her eyes were old. There was no vitality in them. I did this.
There were no words to tell her what he felt or why he was there, so he said
nothing. They stared at each other until someone jostled him, and the gaze was
broken.
He stood, picked up his bag, and
waited for her to do the same. She inspected her shoes while she made her
decision. LA equalled anonymity; that’s why she had chosen the city as her
haven. Beyond leaving Sunnydale that morning and forgetting her life as the
Slayer, Buffy had not given any thought about how she would exist. Angel’s
appearance reminded her that she had nothing except $47.73 in her pocket. Her
mother had disowned her. Her father was “unavailable”. She was estranged from
her friends and Watcher by circumstance and choice. She was alone.
Buffy followed Angel out of the
building.
They did not speak as he led her
through a maze of alleys and streets. Angel searched for a safe and anonymous
place to rest. It was late in the night before he settled on one of the
“better” ones that catered to demons and humans.
The desk clerk openly leered at
Buffy as Angel requested a room. “D’ya wanna single?” it pandered. Angel
thought about this. With the exception of the passionate kisses and embrace at
the mansion, they had not really been with each other since the James and
Grace experience. Better make it two beds. “Ain’t she kinda young?”
The sweating purple demon had greasy brown fur. It scratched its belly through
the misbuttoned shirt. “Looks like a virgin, too,” the clerk continued with a
sneer. Angel studied Buffy. She looks broken. “If yer willin’ t'
share, I’ll let ya have the room fer half price. She a screamer?” The demon
licked its distended lips in anticipation. That got Angel’s attention. He
reached across the counter, grabbed a fistful of grimy shirt, and easily
hoisted the clerk.
“We’ll take a double room. At no
cost. Now.” Angel threatened. Then he smirked through his fangs in case there
was any doubt about the sincerity of the warning. The clerk vigorously nodded
its head in agreement.
Angel released the trembling demon
who scrambled to find some room keys. “Sure, no problem, mister. Whatever ya
want,” it babbled, dropping keys on the counter. "Room 28. Ya just need t'
fill out…” Its voice died away as Angel glared. The demon backpedalled. “Know
what? Yer fine.”
Angel handed one key to Buffy. She
turned it over wordlessly before stuffing it into a pocket. She followed him
into the hallway and down the stairs to the room. He put the key in the lock
and opened the door. He stepped aside to let her in. She brushed silently past
him and placed her bag on one of the beds. Angel entered and closed the door
behind him. He turned the deadbolt and slid the chain into its holder. As he
rested his forehead against the door, he could hear the blood pulsing through
her body. If I turn around, what will I see?
“Are you hungry? I can get some
food.” Something creaked. He pivoted and faced her. She sat cross-legged on
the bed with her hands folded in her lap. She was staring into the mirror that
reflected the room but not him.
“No. I’m fine.” She took a
steadying breath. “Really. I just want a shower. And then maybe some sleep.”
Angel shrugged out of his coat and placed it over the back of a chair. The
movement forced a grimace across his face and a hiss past his lips. She heard
it and turned her attention to him. “You should probably eat though. Can you…
Is there someplace where you…“ Her voice dissipated into the uneasy silence.
“Yeah,” Angel answered as he moved
towards her. Buffy scooted to the head of the bed. She’s afraid. Of me?
He backed away. “Why don’t you take that shower while I’m gone.” She nodded
and watched him leave.
What she wanted was a blistering
hot shower to melt the pain in her soul. She turned the tap on full, but all
she could feel was tepid water. At least the bathroom was clean. Buffy
massaged the soap with numb fingers. The lather spilled over her hands as she
washed the horrible day off her skin. She stood mutely under the sputtering
spray until the water turned cold. Like him. She turned the shower
off and drew back the curtain. A soft knock on the door startled her.
“It’s me. I’m back.” Angel’s deep
voice was muffled. Yes. You are.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she
called. She had brought her clothes into the bathroom. She slipped on her
panties and then her pajamas, a tank top with shorts. She towel-dried her hair
and peered into the mirror. She didn’t look like the Slayer. She looked like a
seventeen-year-old girl. That’s all I ever was.
Angel had not intended to be
half-dressed when she exited the bathroom. He froze when he heard her
surprised “Oh!” He was trying to clean the wound so it would heal faster. It
was painful and awkward. Buffy tossed her dirty clothes on the floor and
stepped silently to his side. She took the antiseptic and cotton balls from
his hands and gently cleansed the wound. Wordlessly, she pressed a dressing
over it and wrapped the gauze around his waist. She stood so close that her
hair tickled his chin and brushed against his bare chest.
“Buffy.” Angel tried to catch her
hand in his but she stepped back and turned away.
“I’m really tired.” Buffy
addressed the wall. “I’m going to sleep.” She slipped into her bed and turned
off the bedside light. She lay on her back, hands laced together over her
stomach, eyes closed.
You can’t hide forever, Buffy.
Angel picked up the bloodied cotton balls and took them into the bathroom with
his toothbrush and a towel. He washed his face, stripped, and sponged off the
rest of his body. He redressed in a pair of cotton drawstring pants and
t-shirt. When he opened the door, he was greeted with darkness. Buffy’s
rhythmic breathing reached his ears.
He paused briefly at her bedside.
“Good night, Buffy,” he whispered. He climbed into his small bed and drew the
flimsy sheets over his body. Sleep tight.
PART II
Je ne dors plus. / I no longer sleep.
The first weeks were the worst.
Buffy could barely look at Angel without seeing Acathla’s gaping jaw behind
him. Her nightmares were repetitive and relentless. The vortex opening as
Angel's soul re-entered his body. A final kiss and murmured vows of love.
Buffy thrusting the sword into his body. Buffy would wake screaming his name
and pleading for forgiveness. That first night, the longest night, Angel did
not sleep. Instead he sat by her bed and waited for her to wake. She would
mumble, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” in an endless mantra, but she never cried.
Eventually she would push him away and sink back into her nightmare. The cycle
would begin again.
When day finally broke, a
bleary-eyed Buffy watched Angel nod off in the chair. “You need to sleep,
Angel.” He had grudgingly agreed.
She had grabbed a quick shower and
was brushing her hair when she heard his cries. Buffy ran into the room. He
was thrashing in his sleep, tears raining down his cheeks, repeating “No. No.
No. No. No.” Angel’s dreams were more horrific than Buffy’s. His mind replayed
every sight, sound, smell, and taste of Giles' torture, Jenny’s death, and the
others he had killed in his latest Angelus stint. When Buffy had touched his
shoulder to awaken him, Angel had jerked upright and stared at her in horror.
“What did I do? What did I do to you?” The guilt he felt when he looked at her
was unlike anything he had felt since he was first cursed. He had pulled away
and fallen to the floor, dry sobs tearing at his body.
They revisited these two scenes
every day and night for twenty-three days. In between, Buffy trudged from one
diner to another in search of paid work. Most places would only pay her under
the table and less than minimum wage. The hours were long, and the clientele
and management were unsavoury. At one job, the one that lasted 6 hours and
paid $6.75/hr, her boss had pinned her against the walk-in freezer and fondled
her breasts. Angel had suddenly appeared and pulled the man off before
punching him in the nose. The belligerent owner had immediately fired Buffy
and threatened to bring assault charges against Angel. She had grabbed the
vampire’s hand and pulled him out into the shaded alley behind the diner.
That day they had their first
argument since before her seventeenth birthday. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
screamed Buffy. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I NEEDED THAT JOB?” She shoved him into
a patch of sunlight.
Angel rolled quickly into a
shadow. Steam rose from his sleeves as he stood. “WHAT AM I DOING? WHAT ABOUT
YOU? He had his hands all over you. Were you gonna stop him anytime soon?”
Angel’s eyes flashed yellow in the shade. At the edge of her vision, Buffy saw
the demonic visage ripple beneath his skin.
“It’s not anything that hasn’t
already happened, Angel. It goes with the job.” She said it tiredly and
without thinking how he would take this information.
“WWWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAATTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!” he roared. Suddenly she was slammed
against the wall by an angry vampire snarling in her face.
“Angel, let go! You’re hurting
me.” Buffy struggled in his grip but it didn’t lessen. “ANGEL! ANGEL!” It was
pointless. Angel had disappeared. She relaxed her body. Her limbs hung loosely
as she was suspended in air. “Angel,” she said quietly. “Put me down. Please.”
Angel’s eyes retreated from
demonic yellow to dark chocolate brown. His facial ridges smoothed; his fangs
retracted. He tentatively lowered her to the ground and loosened his hold. He
stroked her upper arms where the skin was already bruising, but he did not
step away. When he felt as if he could speak calmly, he leaned his forehead
against hers and said painfully, “Why? Why did you let him?”
Buffy closed her eyes and for a
few seconds breathed in his scent. “There aren’t a lot of jobs I can do,
Angel. I can wash dishes or wait tables. Maybe clean rooms. It’s not a lot of
money, but…”
“Buffy, you don’t have to do
this,” he begged. “Please don’t do this. You don’t have to take that.” He
pressed his lips to her hair and inhaled her generic shampoo.
She opened her eyes and sighed in
frustration. “Not if you keep beating the crap out of anyone who tries to.”
Angel smirked. “Guess I did hit
him kind of hard.”
Buffy gave him a brief smile. “I
think you broke his nose.”
They stood in the alley, foreheads
pressed together. It had been so long since they had really touched. “Angel?”
“Hmm?” His hands traveled up her
arms and rested on her shoulders; his thumbs caressed the bare skin of her
collarbone.
“You’re about to be dust in the
wind.” She lifted her eyebrows to indicate the creeping sunlight.
He glanced over his shoulder and
saw the threatening light. “I should—“
“Go,” she finished. “I need to
return the uniform and get my things.” She turned to go into the diner and was
stopped by the pressure of Angel’s hand gently squeezing her arm.
“If he tries anything,” he warned.
“I won’t let him, Angel. I
promise.” She watched him follow the shadows before she returned to the
restaurant to collect her six hours worth of wages.
It was past sunset, a few days
later, when she unlocked the door to their latest home. In the unlit room she
could see Angel sprawled on his bed. He didn't stir as she entered. Buffy
glanced at the clock and looked worriedly at the vampire. She had waited over
an hour. When he didn't appear, she had come back on her own. Guess he
overslept. She sat on her bed then bent to unlace her shoes. Her hand
brushed something wet. She didn't remember leaving any wet towels this
morning. The room was usually tidy; her mother would be amazed. She picked up
the item and realized it was Angel's shirt. She sniffed it. Blood. Oh god.
What happened? She turned on the light and hurried to Angel’s bed. Her
mouth gaped as she saw the flayed skin on his arms and back.
Buffy tried to roll him over but
he was too heavy. His skin felt cold and clammy beneath her hands. He was much
colder than he should have been. She debated the pros and cons of waking him
and decided to let him sleep. She gathered up his clothes and hers and tossed
them in the laundry bag. Then she scribbled a note telling him where she would
be and tucked it in the mirror’s edge. Vampires healed quickly. Like
Slayers. He would probably be fine by tomorrow.
Angel woke to the annoying sound
of a laugh track. He rolled onto his back and groaned.
“You awake?” Buffy’s voice floated
above the noise from the television.
Angel rubbed his eyes. “That
depends. What are my other choices?” he grumbled.
“There’s dead. But you already
are,” she shot back. “How about more dead?”
“More dead?” I’m a vampire.
How much more dead can I be?
“Yeah. The dusty version kind.”
She twirled a Tootsie pop in her fingers as she channel surfed.
“Oh.” Angel sat up and groaned
louder. The sky was light. It was day. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” He hung his
aching head between his propped knees.
“I quit,” she replied nonchalantly
and turned off the TV. “Yesterday.” She waited for him to process the remark.
When he quickly raised his head, she flashed a smile. “Good morning,” she said
brightly.
“You quit yesterday? Buffy, it was
your first day. Did something happen?” Angel thought back to the day he’d
punched her boss. His eyes appraised her. She looked cheerful. Too cheerful.
“Buffy, what did you do?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. And it was my second
day.” She softened her voice. “Today is Wednesday. You were asleep when I got
back Monday evening. When you didn’t wake up, I got worried. So I stayed.
Angel, what happened?” Concern blossomed on her face. “You had blood all over
your clothes. I washed them. I think I shrunk some of your stuff though.
Sorry,” she added guiltily. “Do you want some blood? You didn’t have any left
so I got some from the butcher.” Buffy’s babbling masked her fear. Angel’s
chest was marked with bright red welts. The wound in his abdomen had reopened.
She had cleaned him up but she had never seen him so badly beaten.
Angel tried to recall the last 36
hours. He remembered the fight and being outnumbered. The Krevach demons had
not killed him, just whipped him repeatedly and left him where the sun would
find him. He had crawled back to the motel and collapsed on the bed. Some dark
vague memory still tugged at him. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to
the hidden space. He remembered drinking something warm and sweet and coppery.
His eyes flew open and bored into Buffy. She squirmed under his scrutiny and
tugged on the sleeves of his shrunken shirt. In a blur he knelt before her and
pushed the left sleeve up. Her skin was unblemished. He checked her right arm
and saw two puncture marks on the inside of her wrist.
“What did you do?” Angel whispered
hoarsely. But he already knew. He dropped her arm and retreated until he
bumped into the door. He closed his eyes and turned away.
“Angel, you were hurt so badly,
you needed blood to heal. And, um, I didn’t know where to get any. I mean, do
you just walk into a butcher’s shop and ask for a quart of blood? And okay,
well, I guess you do because I did that. But I didn’t know to do that then. I
didn’t know what to do. It was worse than when Spike tried to fix Drusilla.
Angel, please, I didn’t know what else to do.” Buffy’s torrent of words was
worse than silence. She placed one hand on his back. Angel jerked away as if
he had been branded.
“Don’t.” He snapped.
“Don’t what?” Buffy asked in a
torn voice. “Don’t help you?”
“Go away, Buffy. Just…” Angel
steeled his voice. “Leave and don’t come back. Ever.”
“You’re throwing me out? You’ve
got some nerve.” She thumped his back in frustration. “If you’re in such a
hurry to get rid of me, you leave!”
Angel spun around in game face.
“Fine,” he snarled. He flung the door open and prepared to step into the
sunlight.
“You’d really leave?” Buffy’s
small frightened voice stopped him.
Angel’s gold-tipped gaze raked her
body hungrily. “Yes.” He could hear the blood rushing beneath her skin.
Buffy ran into the daylight.
She returned late that night.
Angel wasn’t there. She took her duffel bag out of the closet and began to
fill it with clothes. She went into the bathroom for her toothpaste,
toothbrush, and shampoo. When she emerged, Angel was sitting on the bed beside
the almost full bag. He looked haunted. Buffy leaned against the doorframe and
waited for him to speak.
“I am a vampire,” Angel stated
flatly.
“With a soul,” she amended.
“But still a vampire. We survive
on, live for blood. It’s who we are, what we do. Rat’s blood is the worst.
It’s bitter. The hair catches in our teeth. Pig or chicken’s blood is slightly
better. Not a lot of fun chasing down pigs or chickens. There’s no finesse in
the hunt. Human blood is better. It has this bright red sheen that reflects
its coppery taste. It slides down our throats. It’s the triumphant finale to
the hunt.”
Angel paused and closed his eyes.
His face became rapturous. “Then there’s the blood of a Slayer,” he whispered.
“Slayer blood is the elixir of life, the sweetest of ambrosias. It is
perfection. It is magical. It is mythical. Once a vampire tastes Slayer blood,
no other blood will satisfy.” He fixed her with a defiant glare. “Ever.”
The silence stretched between them
before he glanced at the duffel bag. “Do you need money?”
Buffy shook her head to indicate
no. “Angel, I don’t want to go.”
“Okay. I’ll go.”
“I don’t want you to go, either.”
Angel released an exasperated
sigh. “Buffy, one of us has to leave. I can’t be around you.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Buffy, did you hear what
I just said?”
“Yes,” she whispered, “and I would
do it again if I had to. If you needed it. Angel, I love you. There is nothing
I wouldn’t do for you.” He didn’t protest or disagree. She interpreted that as
a positive sign. “It’s not like you’re a serial killer. I trust you. As long
as, you know, you don’t get happy.” Buffy mumbled the last word.
“Trust me, there’s no chance
that’s happening any time soon.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t the response
she’d expected. “Well, as long as that’s not a problem.” She paused. “Does
that mean you’ll stay?”
It took another thirty minutes of
coaxing before Angel confirmed Buffy’s suspicions. He had the vampiric
equivalent of insomnia. Buffy’s snide comment about vampires and stress did
nothing to assuage his guilt. Angel had been ambushed because he was
exhausted.
Buffy guessed why he wasn’t
sleeping. He was staying awake through the nights because of her nightmares.
During the day, he was watching her. Angel was averaging maybe two hours of
sleep every twenty-four hours. Normally, he would have been able to handle
that. This was not normality.
“You don’t need to watch over me,
Angel. I can take care of myself,” she repeated in case he hadn’t heard her
the first five times.
“Buffy, that’s not even a
question. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I worry about you. And I know I
don’t have any right,” he added, forestalling her objections. “But I do.”
PART III
Je te désire. / I long for you.
Different day. Different job. Buffy really liked her new job. The restaurant
was nice and she was able to start immediately. She worked the late
afternoon/evening shift. That meant Angel could sleep during the day.
They had argued late into the
night and neither had slept until dawn. Her head ached and she had dark
circles under her eyes. But she was here, and Angel was meeting her at the end
of her shift. She checked her appearance in a mirror. God, I look ghastly.
Skinny, pale, bony cheeks. I could almost pass as a vampire.
She chatted with the other
waitresses while she waited for Angel. They invited her to a dance club to
celebrate her first day.
“Hey, Anne, I think your
boyfriend’s here. And if not, my boyfriend’s here.” Shirley’s eyes ran
appraisingly over Angel’s trim body. Boyfriend? Buffy looked up and
saw Angel casually standing in the restaurant’s entrance. He’s certainly
boyfriend material. “Where’d you find him?” At the entrance of Hell.
“Don’t suppose he’s got a twin brother?” As a matter of fact, yes. Name’s
Angelus. “Anne? Are you in there?”
Buffy snapped out of her reverie.
“I’m kinda tired. First day and everything. Maybe another time. Good night.”
She walked up to Angel. “Hey.”
“Hey. You sure you don’t want to
go with them?”
Buffy glanced back at Shirley and
the others. She missed dancing. Five weeks ago she was dancing at the Bronze
with Willow. Two weeks ago… Two weeks ago I nearly sent Angel to Hell.
A tall gawky man slid an arm around one of the girls and licked the outer
shell of her ear before he swallowed her lips in a ravishing kiss. Angel
used to kiss me like that. She watched the man slide his hand down the
girl’s back and cup her buttocks as he deepened the kiss. Buffy realized she
was staring. She abruptly turned away and collided with Angel.
“Let’s go,” she snapped and pushed
past him.
Angel watched her march away.
Buffy was obviously upset about something. He tried to think what it might be.
She had seemed happy to see him. For a brief moment, she had actually seen him
and not looked through him. What had changed?
Last night’s argument had been
about money. Buffy only had what she earned; Angel had plenty of money to
spare. They didn’t need to live the way they were living. And that,
apparently, was the problem. Buffy refused any monetary support from him. She
hadn’t used the term “blood money”, but the implication was there. This time
she had threatened to leave. Angel thought she was too young to waste her life
in dead end jobs. Buffy had made a scathing comment about “living with the
dead, so what the hell difference does it make?” The argument had gone back
and forth until the early hours of the morning.
Their arguments always left him
drained. They never really made up. They just retreated to separate corners.
In this case, Buffy had locked herself in the bathroom, and Angel had escaped
into the night and the merciless pounding of a thieving Arach demon. When he
returned just before dawn, she was asleep. Or so he thought until she
whispered “Good night”.
Buffy stopped in front of a store
window filled with overpriced dresses and shoes. Angel stood silently beside
her.
“That looks likes something
Cordelia would wear. Although I like the shoes.”
He squinted at the price tag.
“Buffy, those shoes cost almost $200!!!”
“Yes, they do, don’t they?” she
replied dreamily. She sighed before moving away from the window.
Angel lengthened his stride to
catch her. “How was your first day?” he inquired.
“Fine. It’s a nice place to work.”
She absently peered into the shop windows as they walked.
“You sure everything’s fine?”
Angel knew she was avoiding something but he couldn’t guess what it was. Buffy
stopped and faced him.
“Angel, I’m fine. Don’t I seem
fine?” He was about to answer when Buffy cut him off. “Know what? I don’t want
to know.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know I’m cranky. I think… I
think I’m just tired and feeling bleah.”
“And late,” added Angel.
“I’m what?”
“You’re late.”
“I’m late for what?”
Angel actually managed to look
embarrassed. “Your um your monthly cycle. It’s late.” This was another
conversation he didn’t want to have.
Buffy opened and closed her mouth
in shock. “And you know this how?”
“Vampire, remember? Highly
developed sense of smell.”
“Too bad it didn’t come with a
highly developed sense of tact.”
This wasn’t going right. “You’re
not pregnant,” he offered helpfully.
Buffy spun away from him. “Oh this
just gets better and better.” She paced a three-foot line. “Do I want to know
how you know I’m not pregnant?”
“Well,” Angel realized that he was
trapped. There was no right answer here. “Vampires can’t have children.” He
managed not to look at her.
“What makes you think there hasn’t
been anyone else?” The words erupted from Buffy’s mouth before she could stop
them. She watched the pain dance across his face before his features hardened.
“Angelus would have killed him,”
the vampire spat coldly before he swept past her.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Buffy chased Angel for two blocks before she caught him. “Angel, stop. Wait.
I’m sorry.” She pulled on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Please. Angel.
I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re the one that wanted me to
stay,” Angel said harshly. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”
I’m afraid. “I don’t
know. I don’t want to fight with you. It seems like that’s all we do.” Buffy
placed her hand on his cheek until he relaxed his clenched jaw. “Truce?”
Angel closed his eyes and savoured
her touch. What he wanted to do was wrap both arms around her and never let
go. He opened his eyes and turned his face to kiss her palm. “We don’t need a
truce, Buffy, we need to trust each other.”
“I do trust you.” Angel raised his
eyebrows. “It’s just a little weird to be talking about my period with a guy.
Any guy. But especially you. I mean we’ve been …” she waved her hands, “close.
But this is girl stuff and even if you weren’t who you are I still wouldn’t
want to talk about this with you because you’re a guy and you just wouldn’t
get it.”
“I wouldn’t get what, Buffy? That
you’re all mixed up because you’re late? That you think you’re pregnant? That
you’re miserable because you’re bloated? That you’ve been living on chocolate
for the past couple of days? What won’t I get?” Angel’s voice grew louder.
“How about a period for starters,”
Buffy muttered under her breath and spun away from him.
Angel’s arms slipped around her
waist as he pulled her back to him. His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “God, I
hope not.” He kissed the nape of her neck. “Are you like this every month?”
Buffy relaxed into his embrace.
“Nope. Some months I throw things. Pointy wooden things.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
PART IV
Je sais que c’est interdit. / I know that this is forbidden.
Buffy couldn’t sleep. The air
conditioning unit was broken. They were moving to a new place tomorrow, but
tonight she couldn’t sleep. She was hot and cramping. She wasn’t sure what she
was going to do once her period started. Living with Angel was … intense?
Weird? Different? All of the above. Before her birthday, she had often
fantasized about a life with him. Those fantasies included candlelight
dinners, romantic music, and endless lovemaking. Reality was brutal. A level
of awkwardness and sexual tension had quickly developed as the daily routines
of bathing, dressing, and sleeping in a confined space had forced an unwelcome
intimacy.
She got out of bed and sat by the
open window. The slight breeze did nothing for her. She thought about Angel
lying half-naked on his bed. Buffy’s nightshirt was sweaty and stuck to her
skin. If Angel hadn’t been there, she would have slept in the nude. A couple
of months ago it would have been exciting. Now it was just dangerous. She knew
Angel wanted her. And, if she were honest with herself, she wanted him too.
They hadn’t kissed since that morning at the mansion. Buffy could count on two
hands how many times he had touched her after their first night in LA.
The cramps intensified and Buffy
cursed at not taking Angel’s offer to get her some Midol. She massaged her
belly and shifted awkwardly on the windowsill. She hadn’t had a period in
months; this one was really going to hurt. Until her birthday, her cycles had
been regular and she’d never been late. Buffy assumed it was the stress of
dealing with Angelus. Pregnancy had never been an issue. Now sex is not an
issue. She marveled at the irony. Angel was still the only one she
wanted. And he’s the only one I can’t have. Was that true? Willow had
not spent a lot of time researching the curse. Maybe Miss Calendar had altered
it. She could call Willow. No, I can’t.
Angel shifted in his sleep and
flung one arm over the edge of the bed. It’s a crime for him to look that
good. Buffy picked at the scabs on her wrist. She remembered the look on
his face just before he bit through her skin. It had hurt a little, but not as
much as she thought it would. It certainly didn’t feel like the Master’s bite.
Buffy lifted the hair off her
neck. Perhaps she should cut it. But Angel likes to run his fingers
through it. That was almost reason enough to do it. She twisted her hair
into a knot. That feels so much better. Then she twisted the ends of
the shirt and tucked it through the front opening so it created a halter. It
was one of Angel’s shrunken silk shirts. She had ruined six of them before he
forbade her from doing his laundry. She leaned her head against the window
frame. There was just enough room for her to sit and stare at nothing.
Angel rolled onto his side and
opened his eyes. Buffy wasn’t in her bed. A slight panic began to build. He
listened and heard her faint humming from the window. He propped his head on a
hand and stared at the sight before him. The streetlight fell on her blonde
hair turning it white. Her shirt was knotted around her chest. He could
vaguely see the strap of her thong. Beyond this, he saw lots of bare flesh on
her toned arms, legs, and abdomen. The neverending erection in his pants
throbbed in response. Hell would have been better than this.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She shrieked and fell off the
windowsill. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t clear your throat or
cough or something to say ‘Awake over here’?” She glared at him from the floor
before righting herself. “I was hot.”
“Oh.” What else could he say?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I can’t sleep.”
He watched her fold herself back
into the window frame. “Can I help?”
“Only if you can be an air
conditioner.” Buffy fidgeted and tried to regain her prior position.
Angel got out of his bed and
walked to the window. “Scoot up,” he said. She gave him a quizzical look but
moved over. He sat behind her and pulled her back against his chest. As his
cool flesh made contact with her heated skin, she released an appreciative “aah”.
He slowly slid his hands down her arms and laced his fingers with hers. Then
he wrapped his arms (and hers) around her waist and lifted her onto his lap.
“Mmmmmm,” Buffy murmured. “Just
like having a my-size Popsicle.” She wriggled a bit until she was comfortable
and leaned her head against his chest. “Have you ever had a Popsicle? My
favourite is strawberry. Except it leaves my lips all red and then I kind of
look like a clown.”
“I think I’d like to see that.”
Buffy bent her head to look at
him. “You know, for a vampire, you have some weird tastes.”
Angel laughed. “At least I don’t
taste like strawberry Popsicles.” He had meant to say it teasingly. Somehow it
came out soft and seductive.
“No,” said Buffy angling her face.
“You don’t.” She brushed her lips against his. “You taste like Angel,” she
whispered.
The next thing she knew, her hands
were tangling in his hair, holding his face, running up and down his bare
back. His tongue swept the inside of her mouth like a tidal wave breaking
through a barrier. His hands followed her curves and somehow caught on the
knot in the shirt. Seconds later the shirt was on the floor and Angel’s
fingers sailed over her breasts and circled her nipples. When his thumbs
finally stroked over the pebbled peaks, Buffy moaned into his mouth. He
repeated the motion and felt her body writhe in his arms. He nibbled on her
lips, her earlobes, and her graceful neck as she breathlessly chanted his
name.
Buffy didn’t emerge from this
sweet cocoon of seduction until her back hit the mattress. Angel was swirling
his tongue around her nipples, her navel, and everywhere in between. She
couldn’t tell where his mouth ended and his fingers began. The sensations all
blurred together. The alarm rang when he snagged the waistband of her thong.
“Angel, stop.”
Amazingly he heard her. He removed
his fingers and groaned before collapsing onto her warm belly. Their ragged
breaths echoed in the room until she was the only one gasping. Silently he got
up and retrieved her shirt. Angel did not look away as she slipped it back on.
Buffy blushed under his intense stare.
“I’m not sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“I’ll never be sorry for loving you or wanting you.”
“I know.” And she did. She wasn’t
sorry either.
Her period started the next day in
typical “screw Buffy” fashion. She awoke to Angel’s barely controlled
growling. When she opened her eyes, he was pacing in front of the door in his
game face. She was about to ask him what was wrong when she felt the wetness
between her legs and caught a whiff of sweet copper. It was daylight. Angel
looked like he was ready to climb the walls.
Buffy felt like crap. She didn’t
want to move except to get a hot water bottle and some Midol. She glanced at
Angel. He was struggling to control his bloodlust. What if I just let him…
she didn’t dare finish this thought. Angel would surely wonder about her
sanity. On the other hand … Stop it. Not going there.
She sat up and blearily rubbed the
sleep out of her eyes. Her gaze wandered around the room. Two suitcases were
open on Angel’s bed. Both were almost filled with neatly packed clothes.
Must have been desperate for a distraction. A duffel bag sat on the floor
surrounded by Buffy’s shoes and toiletry articles. She spied a box of tampons
on the table and her toothbrush.
“Give me ten minutes, Angel.”
He mutely nodded at her.
She heard his fist pound through
the wall as she closed and locked the bathroom door.
PART V
Prends moi. / Take me.
They ended up in a room with a double bed instead of two single beds because
of a clerical error. Angel offered to search for another place, but Buffy was
tired of walking in the rain. She was soaked and she just wanted to be warm
and dry. She still had to work so the sooner they were settled, the happier
she would be.
“Just get the room already, Angel.
You can sleep on the floor if it makes you feel happy. Miserable. Whatever,”
Buffy grumbled.
The new room resembled the others
they had stayed in. A kitchenette, cable TV, air conditioning, small bathroom,
a love seat, a dresser, and the bed. Angel stocked the refrigerator and
emptied his suitcase into one of the dresser’s drawers. They had been living
out of suitcases for nearly three weeks. Sooner or later, he decided, they
would need to find somewhere bigger and more permanent. This constant living
on top of each other was nerve-wracking. Angel’s body was in an incessant
state of tension that was beginning to exhaust him. He could imagine the
effect on Buffy.
She emerged from the bathroom with
an empty bag. ”Tell me again why someone who can’t see his reflection has more
hair products than me.” She tossed the bag into the corner and threw herself
on the bed. “What time is it?”
Angel glanced at a clock. “You’ve
got about ninety minutes before you need to go to work. Why don’t you take a
nap?”
She groaned loudly. “I’ve still
got to unpack my stuff. Unless you do it for me,” she wheedled coyly as she
rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball.
“What do I get?”
“What do you want?” Buffy
bargained as she pulled the blanket over her.
“What are you offering?”
She batted a pillow into shape
before shoving it under her head. “How about less-bitchy Buffy?” She squirmed
as she settled into the mattress. “Or a Buffy-free day?”
“I’m usually sleeping in the day.”
“Okay then. A Buffy-free night.
Does that work?” She closed her eyes.
“Can I have Buffy for a night?”
Angel’s voice innocuously travelled out of a suitcase.
Buffy’s eyes flew open. Did he
really say that? “Uh, sure.” She closed her eyes again. “Just remember,
though, you could end up with more-bitchy Buffy for a night.”
Shirley was ogling Angel again
when Buffy emerged from the employee locker room.
“He really doesn’t dance?” she
asked Buffy. “He looks like he could dance.”
Buffy laughed at Angel’s
discomfort. “He really doesn’t. I’ll see you Saturday, Shirl.” She’d had a
good night with friendly customers and lots of tips. Tomorrow was her day off.
She was planning to do nothing but laze around. She opened her flowery
umbrella and handed it to Angel.
“Buffy, I’m not walking anywhere
with that thing.” He thrust it back at her.
“Fine. Get pneumonia. See if I
care.” She stepped into the driving rain but turned back when she realized he
wasn’t with her. “What? Aren’t we going?” She tapped her foot impatiently, but
Angel still didn’t move. “Geez, Angel, it’s just an umbrella not the Second
Coming.”
“It’s not the umbrella, Buffy.”
“Then what is it, Angel? I’m
getting wet out here.” And then she knew exactly what it was. It was the rain
and being wet and going somewhere together in the night. It was her birthday
all over again. “It’s just rain, Angel,” she said quietly. “Just rain.”
Except it wasn’t just the rain.
When they reached the room, she was soaking wet and shivering. Her translucent
dress clung to her body like skin.
Angel could not bear to look at
her. He went to the kitchenette and made some tea while she showered. When she
walked out of the bathroom, she was wearing one of his shirts. He removed the
tea bag from her cup. “I know you have clothes. I put them away today.”
“And?” Buffy took the cup from him
and poured a lot of sugar into it.
“So why are you wearing my
clothes?” He leaned against a counter and waited.
She stirred the sugar into her
tea. They’re comfy. They smell like you. It’s like having you touch me all
night. It’s the closest I can get to you. Buffy shrugged her shoulders.
“Dunno. Thanks for the tea.”
She wandered into the main room
and turned on the TV. She flipped through the channels until she found a Bugs
Bunny cartoon. Thunder rumbled overhead and the lights flickered. Buffy looked
at the ceiling. “You have got to be kidding me. I just got here. All I want to
do is watch something mindless. Please.” The lights flickered again but stayed
on. “Thank you.” She sipped her tea and stretched her toes. Her feet hurt.
More thunder. More light
flickering. “HEY!” she yelled at the ceiling. Lightning flared in the distance
followed by a loud explosion. Darkness descended. “I’m NOT laughing!” Buffy
shouted.
Angel opted to sleep on the floor.
He had expected an argument from Buffy. Instead, she silently handed him a
pillow and blanket.
He lay awake watching the flashes
of lightning and waiting. Her nightmares started just after 2 A.M. When Buffy
sat up and screamed his name, he was immediately at her side.
“Hey, shhh. I’m right here.” Angel
gently pushed the hair away from her eyes. For a long moment they stared at
each other. Then she lay down and pulled him with her. Buffy squirmed until
she was comfortable. “Comfortable” was Angel spooned against her back with his
arm draped over her waist. She sighed and drifted into sleep.
Buffy woke because she couldn’t
move; she was trapped in Angel’s embrace. She wriggled until she could roll
over and face him. Her fingers lightly traced his features. As her forefinger
passed over his lips, his eyes opened sleepily.
“Time to get up?” he mumbled.
She giggled. “You are such a
grouch. Did they teach you that at vampire school?”
“Yeah. Lemme sleep.” Angel closed
his eyes and buried his face in her hair.
Her hands rubbed his chest. She
could feel the outlines of his muscles beneath his t-shirt. She slipped her
hands beneath the shirt. Her fingers danced across his taut abdomen and swept
up his chest. She dragged her nails across his nipples.
Angel moaned deep in his body.
“Buffy, don’t,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.
“Why not? I miss you so much,” she
whispered back. She kissed the soft skin at the base of his throat.
“I don’t think I could stop this
time.”
Buffy removed her hands and
smoothed his shirt before aimlessly rubbing his chest. She could see lightning
over his shoulder. She wondered (again) if Angel would lose his soul if they
made love. She sighed in frustration. Maybe he was right: one of them should
leave. She could survive without him; it wouldn’t be pretty. Neither one of
them would have to deal with this dysfunctional relationship.
Angel kissed her forehead. “Go
back to sleep. We’ll make it work.”
“Promise?” Because I don’t see
how we can.
Angel awoke when he heard
something crunch beneath his shoulder. The object was jagged and powdery and
smelled faintly like… crackers? He glanced at the clock on the
nightstand. It blinked at him. He closed his eyes and listened. He heard
passing cars, rain, the whirr of a vacuum cleaner, the drone of a television
soap opera. Angel guessed the time was around 1 P.M. He stretched his arms
out. His hand brushed something sticky. He sniffed his fingers. It was peanut
butter.
He sat up. Buffy wasn’t in the
room. He could a voice humming in the bathroom followed by the soft splash of
water.
Angel knocked on the door.
“There’s peanut butter in our bed,” he complained.
Buffy giggled. “Good morning to
you, too,” she called through the closed door. Angel heard more splashing.
“And crackers,” he added grumpily.
“I don’t like sleeping on crackers.”
More giggling. “Then brush them
off the sheets and go back to sleep. I’m busy in here.”
Angel rubbed his eyes and stared
at the bed. He wasn’t really tired. For the first time since he was resouled,
he had not woken to memories of Angelus. He ran his fingers through his hair.
What he really wanted was a shower. “How much longer are you gonna be?”
“Awhile.”
Angel heard something clink
against the sink. He could imagine all kinds of objects but nothing that made
clinking sounds. “Buffy, what are you doing in there?”
“Girly things, Angel. You really
want the details?” Her sarcasm drifted through the closed door. He almost
answered “Yes” but caught himself. “I won’t be much longer, I promise,” she
added.
Angel sat on the bed and thought
about the previous night. Sleeping together might have been the best thing for
both of them. Buffy’s nightmares had not returned once he was in bed with her.
She had slept soundly, and so had he. In fact, he hadn’t felt this rested
since he left Sunnydale.
The bathroom door opened. Buffy
was wearing another of his shirts and had a towel wrapped around her hair.
“It’s all yours, Mr. I-don’t-like-crackers-in-my-bed.”
“Our bed,” he corrected. “It’s our
bed. Yours and mine.”
“Our bed,” agreed Buffy softly.
The room had a small balcony with
an overhang so the rain didn’t blow in. Buffy sat in front of the open door
with the phone on her lap. She had dialed Willow’s number several times but as
soon as she heard the phone ring, she hung up. Buffy debated about whom to
call. She had called her mother once (from a payphone) about a week after she
left Sunnydale. The phone had rung until the answering machine picked up. She
hadn’t left a message. What would she say? She had also called Giles’ number
several times. Xander always answered, but she wasn’t ready to talk to him
yet. That really only left Willow.
This time she let the phone ring a
couple of times. “Hello?” said Willow. Buffy felt a lump in her throat.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” asked Willow. In the motel room, Buffy tried to form
words. “Buffy? Is that you?”
She was ready to say “Yes, Willow,
it’s me” when she heard a different voice on the phone. “Buffy? Where are you?
Do you have any idea how worried everyone is? Why’d you take off like that?
Your mother’s really freaking.” Xander’s anger snaked through the phone line.
In the background she heard Willow say “Xander! Don’t talk to her like that.
You’re gonna scare her off. Buffy, don’t listen to him.”
Buffy slammed the phone down and
stared into the street. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes and
slowly trickle down her face.
From the kitchenette Angel watched
as Buffy bowed her head and finally cried.
Since Angel had not specified how
he wanted to spend his “Buffy for a night” night, he let Buffy talk him into
going to the dance club. She had squealed in pleasure and locked herself in
the bathroom with some clothes and lots of makeup, or so he guessed.
He knocked on the bathroom door at
9:00 P.M. “You know, for someone who had the day off, you sure spent a lot of
time in this bathroom. You planning on sleeping there tonight?” He nearly fell
in as Buffy quickly opened the door.
She was wearing the wine-coloured
dress she had worn to The Bronze the night she danced with Xander to the
seductive rhythms of Cibo Matto. Angel felt a flicker of possession cross his
features. He forcefully kept his hands by his side.
“No,” she said wantonly, “I plan
on sleeping in our bed.” She glided past him and gathered her coat and purse
from the bed. “Coming?”
As Buffy had informed Shirley,
Angel did not dance. Well, he didn’t do any of the faster dances. Instead he
sat at a table and watched her. A couple of boys tried to dance with Buffy but
she pushed them away. Angel might not have been dancing with her, but she was
here with him. When the music slowed, she glanced over to the table but he
wasn’t there.
Her Slayer senses were still
tingling so she knew he was nearby. She felt him standing behind her. She
turned to face him. Angel cupped her face and slowly lowered his lips to hers.
Buffy closed her eyes and parted her lips for him. As the kiss deepened, Angel
tangled one hand in her hair and used the other to pull her flush against him.
Her arms slid under his jacket and around his waist; she was liquid in his
embrace. Eventually they began to sway to the music. They danced like this for
several minutes. When the music returned to a faster tempo, Buffy pulled
Angel’s ear to her mouth. “Take me home, Angel,” she whispered.
They stopped many times on the way
back to the motel. Either Angel or Buffy would pull the other into a doorway
and passionate kissing would ensue. By the time they opened the door to their
room, Buffy already had a hickey on her neck and another at the base of her
throat. She pushed Angel’s jacket off his shoulders and tore the buttons of
his shirt as she ripped it open. Angel unzipped her dress. All of this
occurred while they continued to kiss. Buffy stepped out of her dress and
kicked off her shoes. She stood before Angel in her bra and panties. He
shuddered as he looked at her.
“Buffy,” he whispered. “You know
we’re not going to—“
She stopped his words with a
finger against his lips. “I know. And I don’t… I mean I can’t…” She sighed.
“It’s alright, Angel. I’m okay with whatever we do. Even if all we do is
kiss.”
Angel leered at her. “Honest, all
I was gonna do was kiss you.” He nibbled her ear lobe. “Now, as to where I was
gonna kiss you…” His left hand traced her spine from the nape of her neck to
her tailbone, “…that’s a whole other story.”
He drew her towards the bed and
sat down, pulling her into his lap. He unhooked her bra and let her breasts
fall freely. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?” He gazed into her eyes.
“Tell me what you want,” he commanded softly.
Buffy let her eyes drink in Angel.
His hair was sticking straight up where her hands had twisted and tangled in
it. He had a smear of lipstick on his ear and another on his throat. She knew
there were scratches on his back from her nails. She wanted Angel to make love
to her, but that was never going to happen again. What else did she want? She
returned her gaze to the dark mahogany eyes that reflected love and lust
equally. “You,” she answered. “All I want is you.” She took one of his hands
and placed it in the valley between her breasts. And grimaced as a wave of
menstrual cramps suddenly hit her. “Well, you and maybe some more Midol.”
Angel laughed as he lifted her off
his lap and placed her in the bed. He rummaged through his drawer for a shirt
for her. Then he headed into the bathroom for the Midol and the hot water
bottle. He took both to the kitchenette, filled the kettle with water, and set
it to boil. When he got back to the bed, Buffy was flipping through the TV
channels in search of a cartoon or a good movie. Angel handed her a cup of tea
and two Midol tablets. He pulled the covers back and placed the filled hot
water bottle on her abdomen. Then he covered her up and sat on the floor by
the bed.
She put the empty cup on the night
stand and leaned down to kiss Angel’s neck. “Thank you. Sorry you got
still-having-a-period Buffy.”
Angel leaned his head back against
the bed as she kissed his throat. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
PART VI
Je suis à toi. / I am yours.
A week later Angel showed up at the restaurant with a car and Buffy’s
suitcases. Fortunately, it was payday. Buffy didn’t ask why everything they
owned was shoved into a car; she didn’t even ask where Angel had gotten a car.
Instead, she briefly hugged Shirley, collected her pay, and left.
Buffy sat in the car’s front bench
seat and glanced at Angel’s profile. He was staring out the windshield, his
hands clenching the steering wheel, the muscle in his jaw pulsing rapidly.
Buffy put her hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said quietly.
Angel didn’t say anything. They
drove through the streets of LA for twenty minutes before he pulled into a
side street and turned off the engine. Buffy unclipped her seat belt and slid
along the front seat until her leg brushed Angel’s thigh.
“You know I love you,” he rasped.
“Yes.” She had never questioned
Angel’s love.
“You know that I would never,
never, knowingly hurt you.” Angel still did not look at Buffy.
“Yes,” she repeated. “Angel,
you’re scaring me. What happened?”
He stared at his hands. That’s
when Buffy noticed the burn mark on his palm. It was in the shape of a cross.
She pulled his hand into her lap and gently traced the burn.
“Who did this to you?”
The dark-haired vampire raised his
eyes to hers. “I would do anything for you, Buffy. If you want me to leave, I
will. If you want me to stay, I’ll do that too. No matter what, I will always
love you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, as a human and as
a vampire. I want you to know that.” Angel kissed her savagely, crushing her
lips with his. The kiss literally sucked the breath from her.
Buffy pushed him away. “Angel,
drop the cryptic. What’s going on?” Her body responded to his closeness. It
always did, but this kiss held the flavour of desperation. Something, or
someone, had scared him. Buffy could only think of a few things, or people,
that had that power. “Please, Angel. Tell me.”
He honestly didn’t know where to
start. A month ago, after Acathla had closed its mouth and Angel had packed
minimally. He had been frantic with worry for Buffy. She had left him bleeding
on the mansion’s floor after she had nearly bisected him with the sword. Angel
understood that she had done that to save his life and stop Acathla. Still, it
had taken all of his strength and willpower to get off the floor. He knew if
he didn’t find her, he would never see her again. He had forced his battered
body to move through the sewers. He had pretended to be Angelus. He had
finally found someone who told him that a girl matching Buffy’s description
had boarded a bus bound for L.A. Angel could remember only bits and pieces of
the rest of that day until he found her at the bus terminal.
Today, before dawn, he had
returned to Sunnydale. Going back had been a nightmare in every sense. The
mansion was a mess. Acathla was gone, but the room where he tortured Giles… he
could still smell the blood. Drusilla’s dolls were scattered. Most of the
weapons were missing. He assumed that Giles or the others had taken them. He
had gone to his basement apartment for the rest of his non-Angelus clothes and
other items. Angel had walked into his old home and was immediately hit with
memories of making love to Buffy. He had gathered up the red coverlet and
inhaled the faint remainder of her scent mixed with his semen. He had left
Sunnydale at nightfall and returned to LA.
Giles had kicked in the motel room
door an hour later and nearly killed him with a bolt from the crossbow. The
two men had fought terribly. Giles’ intent was to kill Angelus at all costs.
Angel took as many blows as he could for all the hideous things he had done to
the man. He had tried not to hurt the Watcher. But, when Giles threatened to
forcibly return Buffy to Sunnydale, Angel stopped pulling his punches. The
vampire was stronger. Eventually he knocked the British man into
unconsciousness. Angel had surveyed the damage. Giles would need a doctor, but
he would probably be fine. Angel guessed that he had enough time to pack up
their belongings and get Buffy.
By the time he’d left, no trace of
their presence remained at the motel. Angel had had time to think about Giles’
accusations as he packed: “vicious monster,” “devil incarnate”, “evil
creature.” Giles fervently believed he was dealing with Angelus. He was
convinced that Buffy was being kept against her will. His proof? Buffy’s lone
call to Willow the week before. Angel had tried to tell Giles that he had a
soul again and Buffy was with him voluntarily. The Watcher had not been
interested in the truth. He genuinely did not care. Amidst the brawling, Giles
had informed him that the Council knew the Scourge of Europe had a Slayer. The
Watcher had boasted that they would ruthlessly hunt and kill him. Angelus was
a danger to the world and would be eliminated.
Angel considered again what to
tell Buffy. This last week had been the closest to “normal” that either of
them had known in months. The days had passed in a blur of kisses and
caresses, soft conversations and wondrous smiles, a warm body sleepily pressed
to his cooler one late in the night. It had been almost perfect. Buffy’s life
was about to get seriously complicated and dangerous because she was with him.
Until now, she thought of the Watchers’ Council as a distant benevolent
organization. Angel, on the other hand, knew the Council’s capabilities and
history. A Slayer allied with a vampire was a complicit betrayal of
centuries-old tradition and practice. Buffy’s role would not be diminished or
dismissed. A price would be exacted for her decision to stay with him. He
silently cursed Giles for his shortsightedness and vengeful actions.
Buffy rested her head on Angel’s
shoulder and snaked an arm around his waist. She could feel the turmoil within
him. “Some time before the sun comes up would be nice.” His body did not
relax. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal.”
Angel kissed her forehead. “Do you
want to go home?”
Buffy shrugged. “Of course.”
“There’s a bus leaving for
Sunnydale at midnight,” Angel said tonelessly. “Or I can drive you. Whichever
you want.”
“Sunnydale?” Buffy was confused.
“I don’t want to go to Sunnydale. Angel, home is wherever you are. Unless you
happen to be in Sunnydale. And then home is Sunnydale.” She laced her fingers
through his. “Why do you think I want to go back to Sunnydale?”
“Giles thinks I’m keeping you here
against your will. Am I? Are you staying in LA because of me?” Angel’s heart
told him “no”; his head was busy cycling through Buffy’s possible answers.
“Giles? ‘Giles thinks’? When were
you talking to—” She stopped. “He found us, didn’t he?” She sagged beside him.
Buffy had believed that she could hide forever. Apparently, she could only
hide for about a month.
“I’ll do whatever you want. You
don’t have to go back to Sunnydale alone. I’ll go with you,” Angel offered.
“Sure, and while you’re at it, why
don’t we take bets on how long you’ll get to live? Between Giles and Xander—”
“And the Council,” Angel added
heavily.
“The Council?” She considered
this. “Of course. The Council wants you dead. Nothing new there.” Buffy chewed
her lower lip in frustration. She had been suffocating in the “Let’s hate
Angel/Angelus” atmosphere of Sunnydale. If she went back without Angel, that
would still be there. Xander would be sure to rub it in her face at every
turn. Giles would be a daily reminder of the whims of Angelus. Her mother… she
didn’t want to think about how her mother would behave. Probably lots of
histrionics and recriminations there too. At the end of it all, she would be
there alone. If she went back with Angel, it really would be open season on
her lover. My lover. When did I upgrade Angel from boyfriend to lover?
“There’s an alternative. I could
leave,” suggested Angel. He really didn’t like that idea, but without him,
there was a good chance the Council would lessen their punishment of Buffy.
“Not liking door number one or
two. What’s behind door number three?”
“We stay together. Here or
someplace else.”
Buffy squeezed his hand. “Kiss
me.” This kiss was gentle and loving and completely different from the last
one. “I still want to die when you kiss me,” she murmured against his lips.
Angel started to pull away. She stopped him. “Trust me, that’s a good thing.”
They kissed again. “I love you. I’ll never stop. Nothing can change that.”
She glanced around the car. “So…”
“So?” Angel repeated before he
kissed her again.
“So, you have a car now, and soon
you’re going to tell me why you have a car now and not a week ago when we were
trudging through the rain.” Angel smiled into her hair. “The question is,
where do go from here? Because I’m thinking, if Giles found us once, he could
probably do it again. The Council definitely could. There can’t be that many
stunningly beautiful girls shacked up with older handsome vampires in LA.”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t think I
know any stunningly beautiful girls.” Angel grunted as a fist landed in his
solar plexus. “My mistake,” he croaked. “I know one stunningly beautiful
girl.”
PART VII
Je suis folle. / I am crazy.
They stayed in LA another week before escaping ahead of a Council hit squad.
Buffy had repeatedly tried to contact Giles during the week but he was
unreachable. Angel discovered that he had been recalled to England to meet
with the Council. It was not a good sign. Angel had secretly worried that the
situation was about to escalate dangerously. The arrival of the assassination
team confirmed his fears.
They had returned to staying in
cheap demon-run motels. Angel was hoping that, if they just stayed under the
radar, they would be missed. To Buffy’s chagrin, this translated to
essentially being grounded. She and Angel were spending nearly twenty-four
hours a day together. The sexual tension between them was almost unbearable.
Angel was sleeping on the floor again. Buffy made sure she didn’t wear
anything revealing. They didn’t flirt. They had stopped kissing, hugging, even
touching. The constant danger of discovery added an extra level of tension. By
the end of the week, they were hardly speaking to each other. It was a
mutually self-imposed moratorium. They never discussed the specifics. They
just knew they were dancing close to the line.
In the end, it was inevitable.
Angel made a phone call to Sunnydale. Buffy caught snatches of conversation as
she dried off from her shower. When she emerged from the bathroom, he was
already throwing clothes into suitcases.
“We’re leaving now,” he ordered.
Buffy didn’t argue with him. She scooped all the items on the dresser into a
plastic grocery bag and returned to the bathroom to gather everything there.
There were still four hours of daylight left. It was two hours from Sunnydale
to here. The Council’s assassins had left ninety minutes earlier.
Buffy packed the car and brought
it as close to the motel’s main entrance as she could. Angel still had to
cross almost thirty feet in the open. He dove into the car’s back seat and
pulled the smouldering blanket over his body. Under its cover, he grimaced as
Buffy tried to manoeuver the car into an underground parking garage. It was
hard to say who was more relieved when she shut off the engine.
She leaned her head against the
steering wheel. “This is only gonna work if you teach me how to drive.”
“It’s not the teaching part that
concerns me,” Angel muttered as he got out of the car and opened the driver’s
side front door. Buffy gratefully slid over to the passenger side. Angel
looked at her. “Buffy? I can’t get in unless you push the seat back.” She slid
back over and fumbled for the lever. The seat moved and Angel got in. “You
okay?”
“Yeah.” Buffy looked shaken.
“Driving’s a little different when you’re actually the one doing the driving.”
She rolled her shoulders. “But I think I could get used to it.” She missed
Angel’s silent appeal to the heavens. “Now we just wait, right?” She turned on
the radio and listened to the static. Buffy turned it off. “So… how about a
game of ‘I spy’?”
They made it through twelve rounds
of ‘I Spy’ before Angel spotted the private security patrol car. He pulled
Buffy down on the seat and covered her with his body. They tensed as a strong
spotlight shone through the windshield. When Angel judged that the security
guards were far enough away, he sat up. “It’s safe.”
Buffy sat up and covered her face
with her hands. “Is this it, Angel?” She pushed her hands into her hair and
grabbed fistfuls of it. “Is this what the rest of our lives will be? Running
and hiding from the Watcher’s Council? What did I do that was so terrible?”
She turned tear-filled eyes to him. “Was I supposed to kill you and just go on
with my life? Because I couldn’t do it then, and I can’t do it now.”
Angel reached for her hand and
gently stroked her thumb. “You’re not the one they’re looking for.” He paused
and considered how to say his next thought. “I know you don’t want this. It
would probably be better for you if I left.”
Buffy snatched her hand out of
his. “No.”
“Buffy, think about this. I’m the
one—“
“NO!” In the confined car, Buffy’s
shout filled the silence. “No,” she repeated quietly. “We’re in this together.
You’re not the only one they’re hunting.” She cut off his protest. “I heard
you last night.”
Angel was crestfallen. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t… I thought you were asleep.” He had not wanted her to overhear that
conversation. There were still some truths he wanted to hide.
Buffy picked at her thumbnail.
“It’s true, isn’t it? The Council wants us both gone. God, I can’t believe
Giles agrees with them.”
“I don’t think he had any choice,
Buffy. He’s a Watcher. He knows the score.”
“There’s always a choice. You and
Giles taught me that.”
They left the parking garage just
after sundown. LA was no longer safe. Buffy suggested San Francisco. Angel’s
face soured.
“Okay. How about Sacramento?” she
offered.
“Sacramento? Who goes to
Sacramento?”
“My point exactly.”
Angel drove. He didn’t trust Buffy
on the highway although she begged, pleaded and cajoled. “Buffy, you’re just
not used to driving.” And that’s an understatement. “Besides, highway
driving is not the same as city driving.”
“Yes, I know. But, Angel, the
freeway is just straight. You stay in one lane. There’ll hardly be any
traffic. Please.” She slurped her tongue in his ear. “Pretty please?” she
whispered before she sucked his earlobe between her teeth.
“No. And don’t do that.”
“Why not?” Buffy walked her
fingers up Angel’s arm, over his chest, and down his abdomen. “You could
supervise, you know, kinda like a driving instructor.” She was about to go
further when he forcibly removed her hand.
“I don’t think so.”
She pouted and rubbed her face
against his arm. “Why not? We both agreed that I needed more experience. With
the driving I mean.” Angel glanced at her face. She’s not even blushing!
The car abruptly swerved onto the
shoulder and halted. “Buffy, this is not the time to play games.”
“I’m not playing—“
Angel grabbed her hand and placed
it on his crotch. He closed her fingers around the large hard bulge beneath
his pants.
Slowly, Buffy lifted her eyes to
Angel’s face. “Oh.”
“Can I drive now?” he hissed and
released her hand. She quickly drew it back. It was unfair, and Angel knew it.
The past week had been hellacious if Hell is being able to see Buffy and
not ever touch her. Angel had welcomed any excuse to leave the cramped
room. He had been ready to throw Buffy on the bed, tear her clothes off, and
just “have at it” to use Giles’ term. His offers to leave were as much about
saving her life as saving his soul. Except for the night the air conditioning
hadn’t worked, they hadn’t done much beyond some intense kissing. Hands had
never strayed beyond respectable areas. Even when they shared the bed, neither
had ventured into those off-limit sites.
This last week though… he could
sense her everywhere. His fingers had itched to touch her skin, his lips
burned to kiss her mouth. Every time he turned around, she was there in his
face because there was nowhere else to be. He could feel her eyes on his body.
Why not? He looked at her just as greedily. And everywhere, every time she
moved, he could smell the musk of her arousal. Like flies and honey.
Angel pulled back onto the
highway. The next two hours passed in tense silence.
“There’s a rest stop coming up. Do
you want anything? Stretch your legs? Bathroom break? Something to eat or
drink?”
Buffy stirred and opened her eyes.
Angel’s jacket covered her like a blanket. She absently traced the collar and
bent her head to breathe his scent from it. “Where are we?”
“Just outside of Fresno.”
Buffy stared aimlessly at the
dashboard. Angel’s voice was soft now, not harsh and unforgiving as before.
She wondered if he was still angry about earlier. She had just been flirting.
She really hadn’t thought about the effect on him. Sure, you didn’t. You
had no clue that he’s been wanting to jump your bones. Right. She was
fooling herself. If Angel had wanted to push the issue, she wouldn’t have
stopped him. And Angelus could be driving me to Sacramento. What if
Angel was right? What if the best thing was for them to stay away from each
other? Buffy couldn’t think about that now. “Sure. A break would be good.”
A break would solve half our problems.
They found a place to stay on the
outskirts of Sacramento. Buffy had no money left. She chewed her lower lip as
Angel removed his wallet and handed some cash to the desk clerk. If she wanted
to leave, she would literally be leaving with nothing but the clothes on her
back. Angel noticed the worry on her face but said nothing. When the clerk
politely asked if they wanted a single or double room, Angel let Buffy answer.
Buffy opened the door to the room
and held it as Angel carried the suitcases in. She closed the door and leaned
her forehead against it. She listened to him place the luggage on the floor.
She heard more noises as he opened one case and took some clothes out.
“I’m gonna fill the car up and see
if I can find a butcher or something.” Angel kissed the top of her head. “I
put your night clothes on the bed. Why don’t you take a shower and get some
sleep.” Buffy was silent. “Hey, I love you. I won’t be long. I promise.”
“’Kay.” She locked the door after
he left. When she turned back to the bed, she saw that he had taken out one of
his shirts, some underwear, her hairbrush, and topped it with Mr. Gordo. I
love you too, Angel. Come back to me.
Buffy tried to sleep, but Angel
wasn’t back yet. The room felt empty without him. After seven days of his
constant presence, she missed the tingling feeling that screamed “vampire.”
She heard the lock click and the door handle turn. She grabbed the cross bow
and leveled it at the doorway. She quickly put it down when she saw Angel
silhouetted in the hallway’s overhead light.
“What took you so long?” And
didn’t that sound like a nagging peevish wife.
“Sacramento’s not like LA or San
Francisco. I had to wait awhile. How come you’re not sleeping?” Angel emptied
the contents of one of the bags into a cooler and covered it with ice.
Because you’re not in the bed
beside me. Where you belong. “I was waiting for you.” Buffy spoke softly.
She sat up. “When are you coming to bed?” And again with the nagging.
“Soon. Go to sleep.” Buffy watched
him walk into the bathroom. She heard the soft whish of water as the shower
was started. After a few minutes she crept to the bathroom door and stuck her
fingers under it. She felt cool air. Yeah, plenty of sleep happening in
here tonight.
Buffy called Willow from
Sacramento. “Will? It’s me.” She held the receiver away from her ear as
Willow’s shriek cascaded through the phone line.
“I take it you’re happy to hear
from me.” She laughed with her best friend.
“I’m fine. Talked to Giles
lately?” Nervous fingers drummed on the table.
“Angel. I’m with Angel, not
Angelus.” My nails look crappy. Where’s the polish?
“Yeah, you really did. Actually,
that’s why I’m calling.” Red. Raspberry. Cherry. Where’s the Naturally
Neutral Pink?
“No, he hasn’t lost it again.
Please. I have some restraint.” But not a whole lot. Six cotton swabs.
That should be enough.
“Hey, Will? Is it the same curse?”
Please say no.
“Maybe Miss Calendar changed it.”
Buffy prepped her fingernails.
“Could you check? Soon?” No
pressure. We’re just slightly fixated here.
“The Council what?” She froze with
the nail polish brush suspended in midair. “How can they fire him? I mean I
know I’m not there, but I’m not dead.” A drop of polish fell onto the table.
Buffy watched it solidify as she listened to Willow’s detailed explanation.
“No, Will. I can’t.” I can’t
go home. I can’t tell you where I am. I can’t tell you what happened that day.
“I’ll call soon. I promise. I miss
you, too.” She carefully applied polish to one finger.
“Willow? How’s … have you seen my
mom? Is she okay?” Buffy finished the other four fingers.
“I did try to call. I either get
the answering machine or…” she hangs up on me or she just cries on the
phone or she yells at me. I can’t call anymore. She heard the sounds of a
lock clicking. “I gotta go. I’ll call in a couple of days. Bye.”
PART VIII
Je veux tout. / I want everything.
A lot can happen in a couple of days. Buffy hated Sacramento. It was too…
something. She couldn’t put her finger on it. The city just annoyed her.
There was a park across from the
motel. She spent the afternoon watching toddlers and preschoolers play. What
she really wanted to do, needed to do, was kill something. Demon, vampire, she
didn’t much care. The last fight for her life had been with Angelus.
Wonder if Angel would spar with me Probably not. They were back to the
awkwardness of their first weeks in LA.
Buffy sat in the park until
nightfall. Angel had given her some money. She had bought a large pretzel,
yoghurt, and diet soda from one of the vendors. The sun turned the leaves gold
as it set. She waited for darkness.
She was swinging with her eyes
closed when Angel found her. He stood beneath a tree and observed her. Buffy
was smiling like a little girl. He hadn’t seen her do that since her birthday.
He stepped into the moonlight.
Buffy slowed and then stopped the
swing. “Hey! You got my note. I already ate dinner.”
Angel sat on the swing beside her
and shook his head in disbelief. “‘Out’ is not my idea of a note.”
“Sorry.” Buffy twisted the swing’s
chains and spun dizzily as they unravelled. “I haven’t done this for ages.”
She did it again. And again. And felt sick. “Suddenly remembering why not.”
The dark-haired vampire quickly
stood, pulled a stake out of his pocket, and handed it to her. “Here’s hoping
you remember how to fight.”
They were surrounded by a gang of
six vampires dressed in tie-dyed shirts and pants. Several sported afros and
John Lennon glasses. Buffy took one look at them and couldn’t resist. “Oh,
give me a break. Hippie vampires?” She glanced at Angel. “Now, I’ve seen
everything.” Angel just shrugged and kept his eyes on the two vampires behind
them. “I mean,” said Buffy as she ducked, parried, and staked a vampire. “This
is 1998. And Woodstock is on the other side of the country. Right?”
“Let’s discuss it later,” said
Angel as the remaining vampires rushed them.
Buffy sat on the swing again. This
time she was accompanied by a chocolate mint ice cream cone. “You have no idea
what you’re missing,” she teased Angel.
Angel stood by the swingset and
watched her eat the ice cream. My imagination is doing a pretty good job.
Especially when he substituted Buffy for ice cream. He shrugged again.
She glared at him. “When did you
learn to shrug? That is such a Xander—” Buffy winced inwardly.
Buffy finished her ice cream and
licked her fingers. “I called Willow last night.” And? “Giles has
been fired. He was ‘removed’ because he refused to ‘sanction the disposal of a
rogue Slayer’. Direct quote from the Council.”
“I know.”
“You know?” Buffy jumped off the
swing. She suspected that he’d known for days. “You knew and you didn’t say
anything? I thought they were hunting you, and I was just bonus points. All
this time, I’m the one they’re after.” Her fist caught his chin. Angel’s head
snapped against the metal pole. “When were you planning on telling me?”
Another blow sent his head spinning in the opposite direction. “Or maybe you
were never going to say anything?” Buffy drilled a series of punches into his
kidneys. “Is that it?”
Angel took all of her punches, her
anger, her fear. When she was spent, so was he. He collapsed to the ground.
For a good time, call 1-800-Beat-Me-To-A-Pulp. Buffy may not have
worked out in weeks, but her punches still packed a wallop. Angel was in
severe pain. And he knew she wasn’t done yet.
“Willow say anything else?” Angel
coughed and spat blood onto the grass. His lips were swollen and split. Buffy
was not the only one who had been in contact wth Sunnydale.
“I asked her… I wanted to know…”
Buffy couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t. “Nothing.”
Angel opened one bruised eye and
looked at her. She still didn’t trust him with her feelings, and it was
starting to annoy him. “So you used me as your punching bag because what? I’m
convenient?” Buffy didn’t answer him. Angel shook his head in disbelief. He
made a decision. “You want me to leave? Fine. I’m gone.” He groggily stood and
faced her. Then he turned and walked away.
Buffy sank onto the swing. It had
taken every iota of will to repeatedly hit Angel. The longer he stayed with
her, the greater chance he had of dying. Willow had told her what her lover
wouldn’t. “Giles said the Council wouldn’t stop until you’re both dead. They
think Angelus, well Angel, is protecting you.” I feel like I’m dying
inside again. Her thumb traced the outline of her claddagh ring. How
am I supposed to live without you? She stared at the spot where Angel had
stood and watched her eat ice cream.
Angel packed his clothes and left
an envelope with $500 on the table. The money would keep Buffy off the streets
for a couple of weeks. It would also give her a chance to get out of
Sacramento and find a new place to hide. He would shadow her as he had when
she was first called. With luck, Angel would be able to keep the Council from
finding her. Willow either hadn’t told Buffy everything or didn’t know that
this was a bounty hunt. Rogue slayers were not tolerated. The Council may have
been inept and outdated in many of its methods, but Angel had never heard of a
Slayer escaping its wrath. Multiple teams had been sent. He had already
eliminated one team in LA, and they had eluded a second team.
He added a brief note to the
envelope. Be safe. Remember I love you. Always.
The conversation with Giles was
awkward and brief. The now ex-Watcher could not provide much additional
information. Giles had been unprepared for the absoluteness of the Council. He
had tried to reason with them, tried to salvage his Slayer, but he had been
overruled or isolated at every opportunity. It had culminated in his
dismissal. He had hurried back to Sunnydale and tried to avert some of the
consequences but he was failing at that too. Most of Giles’ sources
disappeared or refused to co-operate when they heard he was no longer an
official member of the Council. He now found himself in the unseemly position
of depending upon Angel to protect Buffy. Giles didn’t completely trust the
vampire, but he was prepared to accept that he was speaking with Angel and not
Angelus. He still vowed to kill Angel if he ever saw him again. The vampire
did not doubt that he would.
Giles had heard rumors that a new
Slayer had been called in Boston. Also, there were four Council assassination
teams in the United States. He was rather pleased when Angel corrected him
(“Three, then? That’s too bad.”).
Angel assured the ex-Watcher that
Buffy was safe and no longer with him. (“Was that a good idea?” Now you
want me to be with her? Make up your mind, Giles.) He refused to give the
man more specific information. It’s not you I don’t trust; it’s everybody
else on the Council.
Giles’ voice was momentarily
replaced with Willow’s.
“Angel? Is Buffy okay?” Angel
winced. He vividly recalled standing in the hallway of Sunnydale High School
with Willow’s tantalizing neck inches away from his fangs. “She was gonna call
me back. Tell her I think everything’s fine.” Willow paused. “Angel? Giles? I
don’t think Angel’s there anymore.”
Giles got back on the phone.
“Angel? Has something happened?”
Angel’s voice miraculously
appeared albeit with much remorse. “No, nothing’s happened. I’ll call if
something changes.”
“Wait.”
He returned the phone to his ear.
“Yes?”
“Look after her. If you need
anything…”
“I’ll take care of her, Giles.”
How can I not? I love her.
PART IX
Je m’abandonne. / I lose myself.
Reality was somewhere in between, and that was where they met again. Seventeen
days after the fight in the park, a phone card and an envelope of money
appeared in Buffy’s room. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew they were from
Angel. Somehow he had entered her room while she was asleep and left them. She
was annoyed at his presumptions, but she needed the money. She had been unable
to get a decent job with reasonable wages. Buffy found a scrap of paper and
scribbled “Thank you” on it. She added a heart and “XOXOXOXO”. She left the
note on the room’s tiny table.
That night a single red rose was
left on the note. Buffy discovered it when she woke to go to the bathroom. She
filled a juice bottle with water and stuck the rose in it. She added the word
“again” to the note and placed it under the bottle.
The next night, two more red roses
appeared. Buffy wrote, “I miss you.”
The note lay untouched for four
days. The roses began to fade. On the fifth day, Buffy moved the wanna-be vase
so she could sharpen some stakes. That’s when she noticed “Me too” neatly
written below her message.
Buffy switched motels. The new one
was cleaner and quieter than the three previous places. She unpacked the
suitcase and wondered how long she was staying. This room had a balcony like
the one in LA. She left the sliding glass door unlocked and waited. Angel
entered just after midnight. He carried another single-stemmed rose. He
brushed it lovingly over her sleeping body before placing it on the table.
“You know breaking and entering’s
illegal.” Angel froze in shock. “Lucky for me. My boyfriend gets real mean
when strange men come into my room. He’s kind of possessive in a crazy
homicidal way.”
Angel exhaled. “I think I just
aged another hundred years.”
“You look the same to me.” Buffy
turned on the bedside light. “You plan on staying awhile?” Her voice was tough
bravado. The act was marred by a trembling lip and fearful eyes. She wore one
of his shirts, a burgundy silk that showed off her tanned skin. Her claddagh
ring caught the light.
“Thought you didn’t want me
around,” responded Angel as he removed his duster.
Buffy pulled the sheets back and
stood by the bed. The light silhouetted her body. Angel’s tongue wet his lips
as he realized all she was wearing was his shirt and his ring.
“Thought you wanted to leave,”
Buffy tossed back as she stroked the edge of the nightstand with a finger.
Angel was wearing what she had come to think of as his “standard” wardrobe:
black pants and black silk shirt unbuttoned at the top to hint at the muscle
beneath. She waited for Angel to approach her. As far as Buffy was concerned,
she’d more than hung out the “Welcome” sign. If Angel were staying, it would
be because he wanted to and not because she asked him.
The dark-haired vampire closed the
sliding door. The lock snapped into place. He let his eyes travel hungrily
over her body as his face reflected his longing. Seeing Buffy from a distance
and being right here in the room … there was no substitute. He crossed to her
in two strides.
“Do you have any idea how much I
want to kiss you?” Angel whispered as he nuzzled her neck, her hair, her
throat, and never touched her. “Do you know how much I want to hold you in my
arms?” He blew a soft puff of air against her ear. “I want you more than I
want this life.” His rich velvet tone bathed her body. Angel stepped back and
his voice returned to its normal timbre. “The question is, do you want me in
your life?”
Buffy didn’t answer. She simply
undid the buttons of his burgundy shirt and let it fall to the floor.
Angel continued to nurse at her
breast long after he fell asleep. His mouth reflexively sucked every few
minutes. Between his lips, the arm entwined around her waist, and the fingers
still idly sliding in and out of her core, Angel had effectively bound Buffy.
On the other hand, she was too wired to sleep. Their lovemaking had sated her
body, but her mind hummed with the consequences.
Gently and slowly, Buffy unwrapped
herself from Angel. She donned his black shirt and silently opened the glass
door. The streetlights of Sacramento stretched before her. This night had been
so different from her birthday. Except for the running for my life part.
And the making love to Angel part. Buffy smiled and sighed. If this was
the rest of her life, she could survive. The man she loved was asleep in her
bed. They had spent the whole night reacquainting themselves with each other.
Buffy was delighted to discover that Angel was ticklish, that if she kissed
his navel he growled, that she liked how he tasted … all of him.
What happens now? Angel
had asked her to trust him. Buffy hadn’t hesitated. She had locked her gaze
with his through her climax and his. After, she had whispered, “Always.”
The glass door opened and closed
behind her. Angel’s hands momentarily rested on her shoulders before sweeping
down the front of her body. Buffy giggled at his brazenness.
“It’ll be dawn soon,” she said.
She could hear birds twittering and singing.
“I can smell it.” Angel lifted her
hair and planted soft kisses along the nape of her neck. “My pillow
disappeared.”
Buffy shivered as he found the
sensitive area behind her ear. “Your pillow is wondering what happened.”
Angel grinned proudly before
tasting the shell of her ear. “We made love. Again. And again. And again.
And,” he nibbled her earlobe, “I think I’m addicted.” His erection pressed
into the crease of her buttocks. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.” His
hands slipped under the shirt and caressed her breasts until her nipples
begged for his touch. When he swept a thumb over each bud, she shuddered
against his body. Angel pushed the shirt up so her lower body was exposed to
the cool night air and bent her forward. He supported her with one arm.
“Angel?” Buffy breathed huskily.
“We’re not really going to do this out here, are we?” Not that she would
complain. After last night, Angel could do her in the middle of an apocalypse
and she wouldn’t complain.
He guided his erection into her
willing body. “We’ve got time.”
“Okay. But I’m not responsible if
you get sunburnt.” Buffy moaned in pleasure as Angel glided in and out in
increasing urgency.
Her orgasmic cry was stifled by
Angel’s palm. “You’re gonna get us kicked out,” he whispered in her ear before
he exploded inside her.
The sky was turning yellow when
Angel lowered Buffy to the ground. “Did you like?” he asked shyly.
She turned to face him. In the
hazy predawn light, he looked like a magnificent Greek god from a painting
she’d once seen. His skin was cool marble. His dark hair lent an air of
sensuality. She had to smile when she saw that, even after all their
lovemaking, he was ready to go again. “You’re worse than the frigging
Energizer bunny.”
“I’m better. No batteries
required.” He tugged on her hand. “I can prove it too.”
They got dressed late in the
afternoon. They had spent the day much as they had spent the night: in endless
passion. Buffy’s stomach pre-empted any further amorous activities.
“What do you want for dinner?”
asked Angel as he surveyed the slim offerings of her refrigerator. “All I see
in here is yoghurt and bagels. And fruit. And iced tea.” He opened the
mini-freezer compartment. “And ice cream. At least you’re consistent.”
Buffy leaned over his arm and
grabbed the ice cream container. “What are you complaining about now?”
“I’m taking you out for dinner.”
“With or without your sunscreen?”
“Funny. What are you in the mood
for?”
“I can have anything I want?”
Buffy dug a spoonful of ice cream out of the container and counted the
chocolate chunks. “Anything at all?”
“Uh-huh.” Angel was checking the
expiration dates on the yoghurt. He paused and noticed that Buffy was looking
at him with a predatory grin. “Except me. You’ve already had me. A number of
times.”
Buffy lazily licked the ice cream
off her spoon as she kept her gaze firmly on Angel. She almost missed his
whimper. “You sure about that?” She scraped out another spoonful of ice cream.
“I recall someone boasting about vampire stamina earlier today.”
The ice cream container flew out
of her hands as she was unceremoniously tackled. Angel’s tongue plundered her
mouth as his hands wantonly roamed over her body. Buffy heard a ripping sound
and felt her panties fall away from her. The next sound she heard was a
zipper.
Angal paused before he entered
her. “Still questioning my stamina?”
“You haven’t done anything yet,”
Buffy dared him.
Buffy groaned as she sat up. “I
want to thank you for the rug burns on my butt.”
Angel was stretched out beside
her. “Want me to kiss them better?” His fingers played with her hair. “I love
you, but what happened to your hair?”
She grimaced and rolled onto her
stomach. Angel began to massage her shoulders and back. “I knew you were gonna
hate it. I thought if I changed my look, it would be harder for the Council to
find me.” She rubbed several hair strands between her fingers. “Red is so not
my colour.”
“That brunette colour you had last
week looked nice.” Angel had reached the rug burns. “How long is it gonna look
like this?” His cool tongue lapped at the braised skin.
Deep sighs escaped from Buffy.
“It’s not the salon stuff, so probably a couple of weeks. Can you stand to
look at it for that long?” If he said no, she might be able to finagle a visit
to a real salon.
“Hmmm. I’m sure I can find another
body part to play with.” Angel covered her body with his. “Too heavy?” His
fingers counted her ribs. “You’re not eating enough.”
Buffy reached one hand around to
smack Angel’s bare bottom. “I’ve been a little preoccupied with running and
hiding.” She felt Angel’s cheek on her back. “This is a gift, isn’t it? Last
night and today… you can’t tell me you haven’t been happy.”
Angel kissed her shoulder blade.
“Happy. Ecstatic. Thrilled. Take your pick.” He kissed her other shoulder
blade. “I can’t explain it, Buffy. I don’t know that I want to.”
“How did you know?”
“Willow.” He slid his arms down
hers until his hands overlapped hers and their fingers laced together. In the
twilight their claddagh rings lay side by side.
PART X
Comme tu veux. / As you wish.
Buffy snuggled into the front seat of Angel’s car. She’d missed having a car.
She’d missed him. Dinner plans had been interrupted when the front desk had
called. Buffy had a guest. The guest turned out to be a Council informant.
Angel dropped him off the balcony after Buffy gleefully picked the man’s
pocket. She kept the money and gave the credit cards and cell phone to Angel.
She packed her clothes while Angel dumped the unconscious man at the nearest
hospital. He left the credit cards and cell phone with a fencer. Angel took
particular pleasure in seeing Buffy drive the man’s car down a narrow crowded
alley. They abandoned it in a questionable neighbourhood with a full tank of
gas and the keys in the ignition. They were a block away when they heard the
car’s tires squeal.
The informant had been rather
talkative once he realized he was dealing with a vampire. The Council’s newest
Watcher, Wesley Wyndham-Price, was staying at an upscale hotel in San
Francisco. He had arrived from England the previous day. One of the Council’s
teams was on its way to Sacramento. It was time to leave. Angel stopped at his
motel room to gather his clothes and make some phone calls.
One call was to Sunnydale. Buffy
listend in stunned silence to Angel’s side of the dialogue. She couldn’t
believe that he had dialed Giles’ number. She was even more shocked at the
normal tone of the conversation. When he hung up the phone, Angel pinched the
bridge of his nose.
“Okay, now you’re starting to act
like Giles. What gives?”
“Did you call Willow recently?”
“Yeah,” said Buffy hesitantly. “A
couple days ago. But I didn’t tell her where I was, and I used a pay phone.
Why?”
“She’s been missing since Tuesday.
Giles thinks the Council snatched her to find you.”
“WHAT????” Buffy thought back to
her phone call with Willow. She had asked about her Mom and Oz. They had joked
about her new hair colour. Buffy had confided to her best friend how she felt
about the vampire who still hovered at the edges of her life. “They tapped
Willow’s phone? They can’t do that. It’s illegal. Only the police or the FBI
or the CIA or some other ABC spy agency can do that.” She had a sickening
sobering thought. “Angel, will they hurt her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He had not
looked at her when he answered. “Will they?”
Angel reached for Buffy’s hands.
“They’ll try and find out what she knows.”
“How?” He stroked the back of her
hands with his thumbs. “Angel, how?”
“There are lots of ways to get
information, Buffy. Not all of them are painful or destructive.” With the
exception of the police, almost everyone else practiced the “how much pain can
you stand” method. The Council was not answerable to anyone. Angel had no
illusions about their interrogation style.
“Tell me.”
“Do you really want to know,
Buffy? Sometimes not knowing… well… it’s easier.” He watched her ponder the
choice.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll
imagine the worst. So, yes, I want to know.”
“Okay.” He drew her towards the
sofa and sat down beside her. “They’ll probably try to bully her. Maybe do
their version of ‘Good Cop/Bad Cop’. When that doesn’t work, they might try
some drugs.” The Council’s preferred method was pain followed by death.
“Like truth drugs? Does that
work?”
“I don’t know. They hadn’t been
invented when I was …” Angel bowed his head.
“They’re going to kill her, aren’t
they?” Buffy’s eyes flooded with tears. “Does Giles know where she is? Can we…
can we find her?” Please tell me yes. Please. Please.
Angel raised his head and said
quietly, “Giles doesn’t even know where to start, and she’s been gone at least
two days. He’s trying to find her. I’m going to call in some favours.”
This can’t be happening.
“Angel, we have to go back. We have to find her.” Tell me we can find her.
“If you go to Sunnydale, they’ll
kill you.” He whispered the words against her forehead as tears splotched her
pants. “That’s not going to help Willow.”
“But, we have to do something,”
Buffy begged.
“I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry,
but you can’t help Willow.” Angel tightened his embrace as Buffy’s screamed
her frustration.
Oh God. Oh God. Willow, I love
you.
Angel did most of the talking as
they drove to San Francisco. Buffy wanted to know everything that had happened
while they had been separated. Angel reported that he had returned to LA and
“taken care of” the second assassination team. Buffy didn’t ask how. Angel was
right. Sometimes it was easier not to know.
Giles was frantically trying to
identify the members of the remaining teams, locate Willow, and reduce the
volume of information on Buffy and, consequently, Angel. Unfortunately Xander
had been only too happy to talk to the Council’s investigators about Angel’s
relationship with the Slayer. His helpfulness had led to the knowledge that
Buffy had regular contact with Willow. However Xander refused to believe that
he was a crucial factor in Willow’s abduction.
The ex-Watcher had tried to get
the Sunnydale police involved. As soon as they discovered that Willow was
dating a band player, they had downgraded the case from kidnapping to
“probable runaway”. Because the Dingoes were touring, Giles had been unable to
reach Oz. He was skeptical that the Sunnydale Police Department had even
bothered to find the tour schedule. Willow’s parents were convinced that she
was going through “a phase” and would return home when school started.
Joyce Summers had been equally
uncooperative albeit unwittingly. She steadfastly stonewalled the Council’s
efforts to learn personal details of Buffy’s life. Her distrust and disbelief
were unbreachable. She clung to the illusion that her daughter was just
troubled. She blamed Giles for encouraging Buffy’s wild behavior. He suspected
that her telephone line was also tapped However, since she had had no contact
with her daughter, Giles believed the Council would monitor her movements but
essentially leave her alone.
Hellmouth activity had continued
to rise as word spread that the Slayer was gone. A new Watcher was arriving
soon to assess the situation and determine if the new Slayer should relocate.
Giles could provide little background information on the Watcher except it was
a man and he was “freshly brainwashed.”
Buffy smiled at the typical Giles’
comment. “Aren’t they watching Giles too? Listening to his phone calls?
Following him around and stuff?”
Angel shrugged. “Giles said not to
worry about it.” He glanced at the overhead sign. “Which exit do we need?”
Buffy turned the map light on.
“The next one, then we turn left at the second light.”
She flipped the light off and
watched the oncoming headlights streak past. Someone was going to pay for
Willow. She didn’t know who yet. She tapped Angel on the arm and pointed at
the hotel marquee.
When they left the hotel, Mr.
Wyndham-Price was missing several teeth and all of his fingers were broken.
Buffy hadn’t planned on dislodging his teeth, but the British man had prattled
incessantly about “a Slayer’s sacred duty”. She had cuffed him once just to
shut him up, but she put all of her Slayer strength behind the punch.
The Watcher didn’t know anything
about Willow’s kidnapping except that it had occurred. He wasn’t the least bit
remorseful. In fact, the man had treated Buffy with a great deal of
condescension until Angel had flashed his fangs. The inexperienced Watcher had
urinated in his chair and promptly started talking.
He told them that the second team
had met with a freak automobile accident before leaving Los Angeles. Buffy
shot Angel a questioning look. They knew about the team going to Sacramento.
That left two that were unaccounted.
“Where are the other teams?” asked
Buffy.
“They’re already here.”
“Where here? In San Francisco? In
Sunnydale?”
“I have no idea.”
“Fine. Do it the hard way. I can
break your fingers or he can. I promise not to lick the blood off them. That’s
the only difference. Take your pick.”
Buffy sipped her mocha as she
waited for Angel. He had sent her out of the room after she hit Wyndham-Price.
She had protested, but Angel had silenced her with “Sometimes it’s easier not
to know.” As she sat in the car, she was grateful that he had stopped her.
Always nice to know I have a future in torture and maiming. Wonder if the
Mafia hires females?
Angel opened the driver’s door and
climbed in. “You okay?” He had argued against her presence in the Watcher’s
room. She had overruled him by kicking in the door and throwing the surprised
man into the television. Willow’s kidnapping had awakened a spark in her that
he hadn’t seen since that morning in the mansion. Then she was fighting to
protect the world. Now she was fighting to regain control of her life. Once
the adrenaline rush passed, she would have to live with the consequences of
her actions. Angel felt remorse and guilt every day for Angelus’ actions. It
took its toll. What would it do to Buffy?
She took another sip of her mocha.
“Yes. And thanks.”
“For what?”
“You were right. I shouldn’t have…
I got a little out of control in there. If you hadn’t stopped me…”
Wyndham-Pryce might be Puppy Chow.
“You would have stopped yourself.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Maybe after you broke his arms and legs.”
“And before I shoved a stake up
his very British ass?” she rejoined. “I would have hated myself in the
morning. Not that I’m real happy now.” She rolled the paper cup between her
hands. “Angel, I feel like I’m on a runaway train and I’m not the one driving.
I keep pulling on the emergency brake and nothing happens.” Buffy finished her
drink. “Too bad I can’t get frequent rider miles. We might actually be able to
go somewhere.”
“I know this is gonna sound
clichéd, but sometimes life is like this. Out of control, meandering, reckless
speeding. Doesn’t mean it’s always gonna be like this. You’ve got some say in
what happens.” Angel suddenly felt his 240-plus years “That Watcher’s going to
be in communicado for … several weeks, I’m guessing. Don’t ask,” he added as
Buffy opened her mouth. “You really—”
“Don’t want to know? I’m starting
to get that.” Buffy’s stomach growled. “Hey, I got gypped out of my dinner.
Does your offer still stand? ‘Cause if it does, I could go for some cashew
chicken.”
She didn’t want to talk about it
any more. Angel suspected she wasn’t done with the topic, but he didn’t push.
Instead, he started the car. “Ever been to Chinatown?”
PART XI
Quand tu veux. / When you want.
Several state maps were spread on the floor and bed of their latest hideout.
Buffy sat on the floor pouring over the Nevada map while she ate leftover
cashew chicken. Angel was examining Oregon.
“I’ve never been to Vegas,” she
said between mouthfuls. “Is it really glittery and bright with tons of casinos
and slot machines and half-naked show girls? And just forget I mentioned that
last part.”
Angel flashed her a wicked grin.
He sat opposite her drinking a glass of blood. “I guess. Didn’t really pay a
whole lot of attention the last time I was there.” He wrinkled his nose at the
pungent scent of onion.
Buffy stopped eating. “When were
you in Vegas? Why were you in Vegas?”
He pretended he hadn’t heard
either question. She flicked a fortune cookie at him.
“Oh c’mon. Tell me. What? Were you
a hit man for the mob? Ooooo. Did you meet Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and
that other guy? Wasn’t Vegas built by the mob?” Buffy dug through her food for
another chunk of chicken. She snagged a piece with her chopsticks. Angel
neatly refolded the Oregon map and watched Buffy eat. Most of the henna had
washed out of hair, but it still looked brassy instead of golden.
Buffy’s attention was caught by a
sidebar entitled ‘Vegas Fun Facts.’ She waved her chopsticks in the air as she
read aloud. “Did you know they have more Elvis impersonators than any other
city in America? Oh, and they have 24-hour wedding chapels there. Geez,
they’ll marry anybody in Vegas.” She found the last piece of chicken and
plopped it in her mouth. Angel unfolded the Washington map and spread it on
the floor.
“Hey, do you think they’d marry an
ex-Slayer and a really old vampire?” Buffy joked.
“We’re already married.”
Buffy thought she was going to
choke. She grabbed the iced tea and hurriedly drank the rest of the bottle.
“Excuse me. What did you say?”
Angel looked embarrassed. More
like a deer in headlights. “I said, ‘We’re already married.’” Buffy still
stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You probably want me to explain
that.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I figure
you married a different Vampire Slayer because hello? I think I would remember
a wedding.” She waited for an explanation anyway. Angel continued to stare at
the map in front of him. “Okay. When did we get married?” And where was I?
“That night.” Which night,
Angel? His half-smile softened the blow, but his eyes filmed with tears.
Oh. That night. “When you took the ring and we…”
Buffy held up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t.” She needed to think. “We’re married?” Angel nodded. “You’re sure?” He
nodded again. “But… I don’t remember saying ‘I do’.” Or you asking me, for
that matter.
“Old Irish custom.”
“What, you Irish don’t ask first?
Polite people ask, ‘Do you want to get married?’ Other polite people say yes
or no.”
”Are you saying I’m not polite?”
Nice non-answer, Angel.
Buffy reached across the map and
touched his cheek. “You are very polite. Usually you’re the epitome of polite
and I’m the country bumpkin.”
“But…” Angel closed his eyes so he
wouldn’t see the rejection in hers.
“No buts, I promise. Well, one.
Two, now that I think about it. First, it’s not legal. Second, Angel, why
didn’t you tell me?” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is tonight’s jackpot
question.
Why hadn’t he told her? Angel
wasn’t sure himself. When should I have said ‘Oh, by the way, we’re
married’? Before I killed Jenny Calendar, or after? Maybe while I was cutting
pieces out of Giles? When in the last eight weeks was I supposed to tell you?
“There wasn’t ever a good time to say something,” he mumbled. It was a
hopelessly inadequate excuse.
Buffy stood and glared at him.
“You mean to tell me that absolutely no point in the last six months was a
good time to say I’m your wife? I could understand Angelus not wanting to own
up to that. But I don’t get why you wouldn’t say anything. I thought you loved
me. I thought you wanted to be with me. Or was that just a ploy to testdrive
your curse? God, Angel, if I hadn’t brought it up, would you have even told
me?” She paced the length of the room.
“Yes.” When I could do it
properly. When we weren’t running for our lives. When you knew enough about
life to make an informed decision. “You’re right, it’s not legal. But
among my people, the exchange of rings and consummation makes it real.” Angel
stood too, but he made no move towards her.
“So you give me a ring, sleep with
me, and what? Suddenly I’m your wife? What happened to asking me if I wanted
this? But no. You never ask me what I want. You just decide for both of us.
Where we live, how much money we have, what we do next. YOU NEVER ASK ME.”
Buffy grabbed her purse and opened
the entry door. She was stifling; she needed to get out. Angel violently
jerked her back into the room. She landed on the floor. “NO. You DO NOT get to
run away this time.” He slammed the door shut and leaned against it with his
arms crossed. “You want to fight? Then we go all the way. NO backing down. NO
running away.”
She stood and pushed her sleeves
up. “Fine. It’s about time you got another ass-kicking.” Buffy shifted into a
defensive posture; Angel did not move.
“You want to beat me to a pulp
again? Go right ahead. I won’t stop you. But you and I are still going to have
this argument. You want to be treated like an adult, then act like one. Adults
talk about their differences and problems honestly and openly. They DON’T beat
each other up and they DON’T run away.”
Buffy threw up her hands in
disgust. “Honesty? What do you know about honesty? When have you ever given me
a straight answer? With you, everything is in code. You leave whole chunks
out. But you expect me to be honest with you.”
Angel rolled his eyes. “Honesty is
not the same thing as telling every little detail. When have I lied to you?
Truth may be black and white. But honesty comes in shades of grey. What do you
want to know? Ask me. I’ll tell you the truth. Question is, can you handle the
truth?”
Several minutes passed in silence.
“What? No burning questions? Nothing you want to know? Let me help you out.
Did I screw Drusilla? Yes, before I got my soul and after I lost it. Did I
like it? Nothing to write home about. She’s a little mental for my taste. I
like my women warm-blooded. Anything else?” Angel winced inwardly as tears
glazed Buffy’s eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” she
pleaded.
“Why not? Isn’t this what you
want?”
“What I want? What I WANT? You
have no clue what I want.” Buffy could feel the tears building behind the
pain.
“Gee, Buffy, why is that? Let me
think. First you want a normal life, then you want a freaky boyfriend. You get
me, I lose my soul, so you try to kill me. I get my soul back, and you STILL
try to kill me. I follow you to LA and you string me along for weeks with your
touch me/don’t touch me attitude. You talk to Willow who says you can have
what you want, and what do you do? You throw me out of your life. You let me
back in. We get back together. As soon as we hit a pothole, you’re making
plans to run. I don’t think you know what you want.” Angel’s frustration had
been building for weeks.
Is that what happened?
Buffy was momentarily thrown by his summary. “What? I was supposed to let
Angelus run around loose? Tell me how many friends should have died. Or maybe
we’d all be better off in Hell.”
“No. You were supposed to do your
job and kill me. And I’m not arguing about that. Being the Slayer is tough.
But you didn’t kill me – I’m assuming because I got my soul back. You told me
you loved me, and then you cut me in half. And instead of sticking around and
dealing with the consequences, you took off. You didn’t tell anyone where you
were going. You just ran away.” Angel didn’t know why she left. It scared him
to see her so dislocated from reality. Part of him was afraid that he was the
reason.
Buffy brushed the tears away from
her cheeks. “I DID deal with the consequences. We made love. Your soul
disappeared in a moment of happiness, but I’m the one who lived the nightmare
that came after. And none of this has anything to do with the fact that you
didn’t tell me we were MARRIED!”
Angel sagged against the door. “I
was going to ask you the next morning. But the next morning I was Angelus. And
after that… you haven’t wanted to deal with the last six months. If I try and
bring it up, you shut me out. Or you run. Or both.”
“I don’t… I can’t.” Buffy stumbled
over the emotions that threatened to pour out of her mouth.
“You can’t what?” Angel’s soft
voice washed over her. I can’t lose you again, Angel. I can’t kill someone
I love. He slowly walked towards her. “What can’t you do?”
She sank to the floor, hugged her
knees, and began to rock. “I’m scared, Angel. I’m so scared.”
“Of what?” He crouched before her
and waited. She had pushed these feelings and experiences so deep into her
psyche, he worried that she would never be able to deal with them.
“You hurt me SO MUCH!” she sobbed.
“I just wanted to die. And then … then you started your psycho act. I was your
obsession, and everyone who knew me was in danger. I DID THAT. I SET ANGELUS
FREE. I blamed Miss Calendar and I blamed you. But it was really ME.. When you
killed her, Giles… the way he looked at me. He blamed me.” Buffy stopped
rocking and stared at a spot on the floor. “He never said it, but he blamed me
because I didn’t kill you at the mall when I had the chance. But I couldn’t.
And when Willow got hurt, Xander said… When he dragged Giles out of that room,
he looked at me with so much hatred. Kendra died because I was so sure I could
kill Angelus by myself. And my mom, she thought I was being rebellious, that I
was defying her. I tried to explain and she wouldn’t listen.”
Buffy lay on the floor. “That day,
the day I went to kill you… she told me if I left the house, don’t ever come
back. I had to leave. I had to stop you. I had to stop Acathla. It was the end
of the world, and my mother told me to never come home again.” Buffy’s
despairing sobs ripped at Angel’s heart.
When she quieted, she continued.
“Whistler said once you opened the portal to Hell, only you could close it. I
didn’t understand until I saw you pull the sword out. And then you were you
again.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And we were going to Hell. So I … I …
I …”
“You told me to close my eyes.
Then you sliced me open…” Angel could still feel the pain of that betrayal.
“Then I threw the sword into
Acathla’s mouth. The door to Hell was closed. The world was saved. You had
your soul. And I had nothing left to lose.” Except myself.
Angel set a cup of tea in front of
Buffy. She wrapped her hands around the hot cup and held it close to her chest
as if she were trying to steal its warmth. Angel sat on the other side of the
table and considered how to ask his next question.
“So why did you leave me bleeding
on the mansion floor?”
Buffy flinched. Guess I could
have phrased that better. “I felt like everyone was disappointed in me:
my mom, my friends, Giles. The one person who wasn’t, who loved me
unconditionally, was you, Angel. But, I thought I could never have you. When
you were Angelus, it was easier to accept that you were gone too. But, when
you got your soul back, I realized that it was never gonna be the same between
us. I loved you so much, and I would never be able to share that love with you
like I wanted to. And I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be a daughter,
a student, a friend, a Slayer, a lover. I couldn’t. So I left.”
The ex-Slayer huddled beneath her
blanket and sipped her tea. After a long moment of silence, she said, “Can I
ask you something?”
Angel smiled at her. “Anything.
I’ll even tell you the truth.” Buffy did not smile in return.
“Why did you come after me?”
“That’s easy. I love you.” She
scowled at him. “Really. That’s why.” The scowl deepened. She wanted more
explication. “You were crying when you ran out of the mansion. When I finally
got off the floor, and realized what fun Angelus had been up to, I had to see
you. I needed to talk to you, tell you how sorry I was for the things I’d
done, beg for your forgiveness But you were gone. I did some eavesdropping and
guessed that you’d runaway. I didn’t know what you were feeling. I didn’t know
if you ever wanted to see me again after what I’d done. But I figured I could
at least watch out for you.”
“Besides,” Angel added as he
touched her claddagh ring, “I wasn’t going to abandon you or give you up
without a fight.”
“I think we just did the fight.”
Buffy rolled her neck and massaged her shoulders. “And look, we’re still
alive. Well one of us is and one of us is dead. But we started out that way so
nothing’s really changed there.” She stood and took the empty cup to the sink.
Buffy filled the sink with soapy
water. She liked this domestic chore. It was a chance to think without
appearing to think. They had talked about a lot of things tonight. They had
said some hurtful things too. Now, she needed to think about it. Angel’s hands
covered hers in the soapy water. Where did he come from?
“I’m suddenly in severe need of a
drink,” he announced. “And not the kind with blood. If I go out, will you be
here when I get return?” He even sounds nervous.
Buffy stepped back into his
embrace. “Yes, I’ll be here.” He looked relieved. “What if I’d said no?”
Angel kissed the crown of her
head. “I would have been in severe need of a lot of drink. Can I get you
anything? Non-alcoholic I mean.”
She frowned. “I’m not a child,
Angel. Please don’t treat me like one.” She felt his body tense. “I’m not
starting round two, I just… it’s my life too. Let me make some of the
decisions. I’m not always going to make the right one, but they’ll be mine.”
And my recent experience in hair colouring is a perfect example.
He relaxed a little. “I’m sorry.
You’re right. I have been deciding for you. I thought it was best. And in some
ways, you still are a child. Hey,” he could see her protest forming, “how old
am I? You’re always gonna be younger than me. I know you’re the Slayer. I know
that you can beat me in any fight. There’s never been a Slayer like you. But
in some respects, you are still a child.”
Angel tilted his head and chuckled
as he saw the pout. “Buffy, you are still incredibly naïve about men. And
you’re still trying to figure out who you are. Which is one reason why the
last six months have been so hard. It’s part of growing up.”
Buffy rinsed off the dishes and
stacked them neatly in the dish rack. Angel’s hands rested on her hips. “So
you’re saying what exactly?”
He caught the playful tone of her
voice. “I’m saying,” he whispered in her ear, “that you’re not old enough to
legally drink.” Angel kissed her cheek. “I won’t be long.”
Just before he closed the door, he
heard Buffy say, “About the men part, does that mean I should be shopping
around, maybe keeping my options open? Cause I noticed this hottie at the
store the other day…” Her giggle was drowned out by Angel’s growl.
EPILOGUE
Je suis là et ailleurs. / I am there and elsewhere.
By unspoken agreement, they rarely mention their lives after her seventeenth
birthday and before he found her in the LA bus terminal. They change locations
every few weeks. Buffy refuses to stay in better accommodations. (She won’t
take Angel’s money). Angel refuses to stay in the fleabag motels she can
afford. (There is too much vermin – human, insect, and demon.) They
compromise. Buffy waits tables during the better-paying night shifts to pay
for her food, one third of the rent, and other necessities. Angels escorts her
to and from the various jobs. She never asks him what he does while she works.
She doesn’t need to. She can feel him watching her, guarding her, every night.
Angel regularly contacts Giles. He
asks the same questions and receives the same answers. Giles always inquires
after Buffy’s welfare. The ex-Watcher and ex-Slayer have not spoken to each
other since she left him in the library with Willow, Kendra, Xander, and
Cordelia.
In one of these conversations,
Giles informs Angel that Willow’s body was dumped on Xander’s front porch. She
was raped and tortured. Within the week, Xander hangs himself. Angel tells
Buffy that Willow and Xander are dead. She screams until she is hoarse and
then vomits for two days. Buffy doesn’t ask how they died; Angel doesn’t
volunteer the information.
In another conversation, Giles
reports that the new Slayer is not “working out well”. When Angel asks for
clarification, the ex-Watcher comments, “Faith is Buffy but with a lot more
attitude, a libidinous lifestyle, and no moral direction.” Buffy’s opinion on
this is “Way to go, Faith!”
Buffy phones her mother once a
week and leaves the same message on the answering machine. “Hi. It’s me. I’m
fine. I love you, Mom. Maybe I can talk to you next time. Bye.” Her mother
never picks up the phone regardless of when Buffy calls.
They are halfway to Canada when
the last Council team finds them. In the ensuing fight, Buffy is captured. It
takes Angel four days to find her. When he does, he discovers her sitting in a
cage with three dismembered bodies and no weapon. He approaches her
cautiously.
“Who are you?” she asks as she
watches him unlock the door and carefully step around the broken corpses. His
human features involuntarily slip into his vampiric face.
“I’m Angel. I’m going to take you
home.” Angel is disturbed as he watches her fingers draw pictures in the
congealed and crusted body fluids. “Do you know who you are?” he asks. He is
surprised by her answer.
“Yes,” she says dreamily. “My name
is Buffy the Vampire Whore.” She looks at him and smiles. “You’re a vampire.”
“Yes.” Angel guides her out of the
cage.
“I loved a vampire once. His name
was Angelus.” Buffy giggles airily. “I’m his wife.” She giggles again, and
Angel thinks of Drusilla.
After a few days, Buffy seems to
be herself. She says she remembers nothing of her captivity. When she asks
Angel about it, he tells her that they kept her unconscious. She accepts this
answer, and he believes all is well.
The night they cross into Canada,
Buffy stops him and says, “They wanted to show me how much better it was to be
with a human man instead of a vampire. That’s why I killed them.”
Angel doesn’t know how to respond,
so he says nothing. He wonders if she will ever tell him what happened in that
cage. He worries that she will.
During his next call to Giles,
Angel discloses that the last team has been eliminated. Giles’ audible sigh of
relief travels 2500 miles. The ex-Watcher is returning to England. “Do you
think Buffy would speak to me?”
Angel hands her the phone. She
looks at it dispassionately. “Who is it?”
“Giles.”
“Giles? Do I know a Giles? Let me
think about this.” Buffy taps a nail against the phone’s receiver. “Is he the
one who told the Council I had been kidnapped by the Scourge of Europe? Or is
he the one who told the Council that Willow was willing to re-curse you again?
Oh, I know. He’s the one who told them all about us in the first place.” She
stops the tapping. “I don’t think I know anyone called Giles.” Buffy releases
the phone. It clatters loudly to the floor.
Angel picks it up and listens as
the ex-Watcher sputters apologies on the other end.
“Maybe next time, Giles.” Angel
hangs up the phone and reaches for Buffy.
He can’t imagine life without her.
He once asked Giles what happened to Slayers who were turned. There had been
an uncomfortably long silence before Giles said, “I don’t know. If the Council
has any records, I’ve never heard of them. I imagine it’s happened though. Has
she been … Are you thinking about… Angel, why do you want to know?” he had
finally blurted. Angel had assured him that he was just curious and let the
matter drop.
Buffy trails a finger along his
jaw and follows it with a kiss to his bare chest. “Where are you?”
“Right here with you.” Angel pulls
her body flush against his so she can feel his arousal.
“You were elsewhere,” she accuses.
“You were there, too,” Angel
answers before he enters her welcoming body. “You’re always there with me.”
THE END
