|
|
Willow found Angel pacing in the living room, if you could call it that, of his mansion. She was envious of the place. She lived in her small house that in actuality belonged to her parents. Angel's home, on the other hand, was huge. It could fit her family, Buffy's family and the school population, easy. On the other hand, Willow figured for a lot of hands, all those rooms left too much space between her and civilization. But it was gorgeous. Hanging tapestries in every dark color imaginable. Pottery that looked older than most of Giles' books. The art in his home took her breath away. And Angel only added to the beauty of the scenery.
Willow held no doubt in her mind that Angel Buffy's soul mate but she could deny the fact that he was handsome. He was as impressive as the decorations that littered the area. But her feelings toward him ended there. Even if he wasn't he best friend's boyfriend she wasn't attracted to him like that.
Stepping forward to make herself known she called out his name softly. Almost too quickly for her eyes to follow he pulled out a stake that must have been hidden within the folds of his open shirt and threw it at her as if he were throwing a knife, aimed directly for her heart. She didn't have the time to gasp or cry out or move. But she did have the split second to gather her power and lash it out.
The force or the release knocked both Willow and Angel off their feet. She felt it leave her body as if it flowed out the tips of her fingers like torrents of a flood. It reduced the stake to ashes. And she watched the dust drift silently to the rug-covered floor.
Gasping, Willow struggled to sit up. She and Angel looked at each other from across the room in shock and wonderment. Neither knew quite exactly what to say. Willow never knew her powers and manifested them in such a strong way.
Her chest heaved as air forced its way to her lungs. The 'emotional control' she had needed was used and gone now, drained from her body. Leaving her with a feeling of exhaustion.
"I'm- I'm sorry." she stammered once she had regained her breath. Angel, who had bodily recovered, had picked himself up off the stone floor. He shook his head empathetically.
His long, leather clad legs quickly spanned the distance from across the room. Angel towered over her and for a moment she could easily grasp the fear she felt when he had turned, over a year ago. And had held her life in his hands. But that's over now, she told herself fiercely. She accepted his hand when he held it out to her, using his strength to help herself stand up.
"Don't be sorry. I can't believe you could do that." she heard him say. Gripping onto the edge of the coffee table she stumbled over to the couch and sat down heavily on it. Grateful to feel the overstuffed cushions beneath her and be close to the warmth of the fire. She smiled weakly at him, "Yeah, join the club." She was a little embarrassed now that it was all over.
Wordlessly, Angel sat down beside her. Together they kept the silence for a full fifteen minutes. Willow sat with her arms crossed snugly across her chest. As the fire warmed her body it did the same to her thoughts.
She had long repressed her encounter with Spike, she'd pushed that to the back of her mind to be dealt with later. Her best friend was dying. Which lead to the reason she had even come to Angel's mansion.
She had to convince him to return to the hospital with her. It was a conversation she was definitely not looking forward to. Willow swallowed whatever doubts and began, her eyes not leaving the flames that danced in the fireplace.
"Angel?"
"Hmm?"
"We have to go back." She needs us." Willow stared with growing interest at a burning ember. "We can't stay here forever." Though she said 'we', she meant 'you'.
Angel watched the fire, the reflection of the flames writhed in his eyes. "I know. I just don't know if I can--," he swallowed thickly. "I don't know if I can." he finished lamely. He loved Buffy more than anything in his world. If she died… he blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. If she died he didn't know what he would do. Losing her would be like losing his soul, only far, far worse. Even thinking about it made him want to curl up and die. Or kill everything in sight.
He glanced around at his home with disinterest. He saw without seeing the brilliant tapestries, the breathtaking paintings, and the wondrous pottery and statues that littered the walls and shelves and floors. It had been collected over his long lifetime. Given as presents, stolen from his victims and some of it were simply pieces he still owned from when he was a simple boy living with his family.
He'd give it all up, he thought without a moments' hesitation, burn it to ashes to keep her alive. He would kill every thing that'd stop him from spending his life with her. Except Death. He couldn't stop the one thing that he was losing her to. He was unable to stop the rough sobs that escaped his lips. Tears fell unchecked down his cheeks. He was lost in his miserable thoughts.
"Angel." The sound of her voice tore through his despair. He turned away from it, ignoring it. He wanted to spend the rest of his lifetime in this hell called grief. "You have to do this. Buffy needs you with her." Her words seemed to have no effect on him. She reached out and grabbed a hold of his shoulder, shaking, hard. "Listen to me!"
Angel snarled, an inhuman sound, and, like a mask, his vampire features swam across his face. But Willow's feat that ran for Buffy's life ran deeper that her fear of Angelus. "Buffy's in a coma." What difference does it make if I'm beside her or not?" In truth he was scared. Scared of watching her die.
"It matters. She said gently. "It makes a difference to Buffy." Willow bit her lip and watched as Angel's face transformed from vampire back to human. "Let's go." he said grimly. He didn't need to say anymore. She nodded and stood up as he stood. Together, quickly, silently they left the mansion and headed back to the hospital.
Buffy was losing her grip. She was quite aware that she was running out of time on her lease on life. She had to fight it. She was the Slayer. She had responsibilities. She couldn't leave behind. Friends she wouldn't leave behind without saying goodbye.
And she fought the looming darkness. She fought it with every ounce of her soul.
"Angel." Giles stood as Angel and Willow walked down the corridor. "Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you."
Xander jumped up, relief flooding his veins. He may not like the vampire, but he knew that was the one thing Buffy may need to wake up. "Yes, we've been sick with worry." He said with his typical humor. Hey, this was a sad time, some one had to be the comical relief. Xander nodded to them each in greeting, "Willow. Dead boy."
Angel ignored this. Instead he turned to Giles. "Where is she?" The Watcher indicated the door. He walked through and closed the door behind him.
Xander began to protest, but Giles silenced him with a look.
Silently he walked over to her bedside. She looked like hell. And he was being nice. Tubes ran around her body, machines that Angel couldn't even guess what were for beeped noisily, doing their job to keep their patient alive. A sterile white bandage covered a small part of her skull. Dark smudges stood out against her gaunt pale skin.
She still wore the clothes she had come in wearing. The sleeve on her right arm had been cut to allow the doctors to retrieve the bullet and bandage the wound.
Angel sat down on in the uncomfortable visitor's chair beside the bed. He reached out shakily and clasped her hand in both of his own. She looked so helpless and so small. He felt the beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes. She was the best thing he could have ever gotten. She had given her love and friendship to him wholly and unregretably. And he was going to lose her.
His throat constricted and he sobbed forcefully. "Buffy, I--," he spoke, knowing she couldn't hear his words, hear his voice, "I wanted to say that I was sorry. Sorry for loving you so completely that it killed you." He paused, feeling a moment self-reflectance coming on, and searched for the right words. "You can tell my it wasn't my fault, and that it was a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I know that it's because of my interference in your life that brought on your death. Sure enough as if I had pulled the trigger myself." Angel winced at the truth in his words.
He gripped her hand tightly. "Buffy, you can't die. You can't leave me hear alone." Angel blinked rapidly as tears fell. "I love you so much. You can't leave me. You can't leave me. You can't leave me." His neck bent and he let his head fall to rest on the bed. He repeated those four words, like a personal mantra.
In the middle of his grief. In the middle of his tears, he felt something. It shocked him out of his reverie. He quieted himself, his sobs smothered into soft hiccups. He sat as still as he could be, waiting to see if it would happen again, hoping against hope that he hadn't imagined it.
Her pale white hand, enveloped in his own, flexed and pressed against his palm. She had squeezed his hand! Angel nearly drowned in relief. "Buffy?" He stood and leaned over, his face mere inches from hers. "Buffy, can you hear me?"
A soft as silk moan escaped her colorless full lips.
"Oh God, Buffy."
Her eyes opened slowly. Blinking as if exposed to the sun instead of the dim interior. Her eyes darted around the room, unfocused, before settling on his face. "Angel?" she squinted her brilliant blue eyes at him, forcing them to work and focus.
"Yeah, it's me." he reached and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. "Oh, Angel." she lifted her free hand and gently touched his cheek, his hard jaw line, his temple before trailing her fingers through his short black hair. Using what little strength she still possessed in her injured arm, she pulled him down to her.
Their lips touched and the world was lost. All apologies, all their guilt melted away. There was nothing else in the world but each other and the heat and love they shared. Angel, wary of her wounds, lifted her back off the bed, pressing her tiny body close to his.
The were no longer vampire and Slayer, caught in an estranged love affair, but two kids who loved each other. Two lovers who knew their time together was limited.
Regretfully, she pulled away, her lips tingling with something that went beyond passion. "Angel?" she look deep into his chestnut eyes and shuddered at the fire in their depths. "Take me away." It wasn't a question. He nodded.
He pushed back the sheets and carefully helped her sit up. "Wait a minute." her hand groped the nearby bedside paper and she took a piece of paper and a pen. She scribbled some words across it, folded it and placed it on her pillow.
Gingerly she stood and loped her good arm around his neck. Angel supported her, holding her tightly around the waist. They shuffled easily to the door. Silently Angel opened the door and glanced outside. Xander was gone, probably to get something to drink. Giles had fallen asleep in his chair. "Come on." Angel and Buffy edged out the door, she paused a moment to look down at her slumbering Watcher. A tear slid down her cheek. She didn't want to leave him; he had been like her father since she had walked through the library doors for the first time. She loved him dearly as much as she did all her other friends. Carefully she picked up his tweed coat that was draped across the chair beside him and covered him with it.
She turned to Angel, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She nodded to him and together they walked down the hall to leave the building.
They stepped into Angel's mansion; Buffy was exhausted from the chore of walking through the cemetery. Several times they had to stop and rest. And several times Angel offered to carry her but she wouldn't allow it. Instead she carried on herself. She was relieved, though, when they finally made it. There was about four hours till sunrise. They agreed they needed to rest. Together they laid down on his huge soft bed and they both promptly fell asleep.
Buffy was the first to wake. She opened her eyes and found Angel sleeping two inches away. Buffy took the quite moment to drink in his features. He looked so... so... well he looked so human and vulnerable in his sleep. With great sadness Buffy edged away from him and got up off the bed. She walked slowly and walked over to the solid cheery wood desk and sat down. A few minutes of searching rewarded her with a tablet of paper and a pen. Ignoring the pain throbbing in her head she diligently she put them to work.
A half-hour later she heard the rustle of bedclothes and realized that Angel was awake. She set down the pen, finally finished, and stood. "Let's get out of here." Buffy had just finished with a lot of sadness and she needed some fresh air. Oddly silent, Angel simply nodded.
Buffy took one last long look at the home of her lover. She didn't think she'd see it again. It was a beautiful place. Tall sloping ceilings, wide-open room. She blocked out the image of him living here day after day, without her. There'd be time for that later. Instead she gripped tightly to his hand and limped out with him.
Buffy never remembered the stars being so bright. Each twinkled as if they held the breath of life as their very own. Wordlessly they walked, hand in hand, through the streets. Buffy even felt her pain ebbing away. She wasn't fooled, but it was nice to pretend.
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
"Can you forgive me?" she looked at him worriedly.
Angel stared at her as if she had grown another head. "Forgive you? Buffy I can barely forgive myself. There's no need to forgive you."
"That may be your side of the story but I tell a different tale. It's hard to explain but I feel like I've done you some terrible wrong by loving you. It seems silly, I know."
"No, no, Buffy. It's odd but I think that same thing every day since I've met you. And I still feel that way. I messed up your life so much from the moment I stepped into it." Angel shook his head in self-pity.
"Not really a big news flash but my life wasn't exactly the bed of roses you make it out to be, minus the Christian Slater. But your right about one thing, since I've met you, I haven't felt the same." She gazed at him, love shining in her eyes.
Angel faced her. She was so beautiful. He loved her to the depths of his soul. And he knew how precious that was.
The walked for an hour, it would be sunrise soon and they'd have to go inside. She wanted to breathe the fresh night air. She took a deep breath, smelled like rain, exhaling she smiled, ever so slightly. Sure enough pellets of water began to fall, hitting their shoulders and mingling with their hair. She took another, held it a moment, enjoying the feeling of her chest expanding and stretching. As she exhaled a sudden pain flared in her temple. White, hot and fast.
"Oh my God--." she whispered and collapsed on the hard and now wet asphalt. The rain came in hard curtains now. Showering them. Angel watched as she gasped in pain and fell to the ground. "Buffy!" He knelt down beside her body. He noticed for the first time that blood had begun to seep through the bandage that covered the side of her head. Angel stared in to her eyes that were open wide with pain and shock. "Angel." she said weakly, pressing her hand against her head, pulling it away she found it covered in blood "It's time."
"No! No, no, no, Buffy you can't die. Not now. You're supposed to go old, in your bed with dozens of children surrounding you. Not in a gutter." he stroked the side of her face, wiping away the drops of rain that had collected on her skin.
"Angel I have to go now. I have to, don't you see?"
"No! You can't. I won't let you." his eyes filled with tears as he realized that it really was time to let her go.
"I love you" she whispered.
"I love you too" he whispered back, bending down and kissing her forehead.
She stared hard at him. "It's dark Angel, why is it dark? I can't see you clearly."
"Don't worry. I'm here." He pulled her into his arms. "I'm not leaving you Buffy. Not now. Not ever." He meant it.
She smiled weakly. "It's not supposed to be this way. By reputations I'm not supposed to be afraid of the dark." She sniffed. "The dark's supposed to be afraid of me."
Despite himself, Angel chuckled lightly. Even to her death she was cracking jokes. He wondered how heaven would be able to handle her.
"Angel I love you. I'm...sorry" she whispered. Angel felt her go rigid.
"Buffy...no!" But it was too late...her body went limp and her head fell to the side, a trickle of blood running out of her mouth. "Buffy... I love you too." he told her before breaking down and crying. He pulled her lifeless body against his own as he began to cry, his tears mixing with the rain carrying the Slayers blood down the rain washed street.
Carefully Angel laid the dozen yellow roses at the headstone. It read: Here lies Buffy Anne Summers 1981 - 1999 Beloved Daughter and Friend. Angel blinked back his tears. It had been a week since she had died in his arms. Angel hadn't been able to bear to visit her grave until recently. His wounds were still fresh.
"I kinda figured I'd find ya here." Angel whirled. "Oh Willow. It's you." He wasn't surprised she had been able to sneak up on him. He wasn't exactly at his peak performance. "I decided to come and face this."
"Angel," she said softly, "you knew she was dead before you came to her grave. Why should this," she gestured to the pile of newly turned dirt, "be any different?"
He shrugged, not really knowing the answer himself. "How are things with you. How are people taking it?" he looked at her, his eyes filled with tears he wouldn't allow himself to shed.
Willow wrenched her gaze away from her best friend's headstone. "We're doing alright. As right as we can get, I mean. We don't really know what to do." She felt her strength leave her legs and she sat down on the grass. "We're doing the mourning thing, sure. But I mean now that there is she's gone where does that leave us? We fought side by side with her, and now we're Buffy-less."
"But how are you doing, besides the fact that the Slayer is dead." there was an audible catch in his voice. "How are you?"
Willow sniffed in an obvious attempt to hold back her grief. "I feel like dying. I don't have anyone to talk to any more. About the girl talks we had. No one can understand me the way she did. I'm trying to be to strong one, but that was always her department. I can't go on with my life without her."
Angel nodded in agreement. He knew how she felt, God, did he know. He could never hold her again, never love her, never kiss her, be with her or talk to her. The thought of that made him want to take a head run to the first pointy wooden object.
"But I no know," she continued softly, "that she'd want me to live. And I don't want to kill myself knowing that all she did to help me, everything she did to make me the person I am now, was in vain. That is what makes me fall asleep every night and be able to wake up in the morning. Knowing that she loved me and cared for me enough to keep me alive."
Angel tried to understand. He wanted to believe that killing himself to end his grief wouldn't make him feel better. It hit him. Dying would be doing the one thing that would disgrace her memory to the point of betrayal. It would kill him to stay alive, but it would kill her remembrance more. It would be a struggle, but he would make it worth while. He would tell everyone about the greatest Slayer of all time. The greatest friend.
"There's something else." Angel pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to Willow. It was a folded up piece of paper. "She left these at my desk. There's one for everybody." Wordlessly she unfolded it, sorrow hit her at an imaginable strength as she recognized Buffy's loopy handwriting.
Willow,
You are my best friend. I will always remember you and your beautiful smile. You gave me something I hadn't known I needed. Genuine friendship. I'm sorry we couldn't go old together and still share our secrets. I'm sorry for a lot of things. But I'm never sorry that I was your friend. Understand that though I'm gone I'm still with you. I will never leave you. Whenever your feeling down and you can't go on. Talk to me. I'm still there listening to every word you say. Even when you feel like you're the last person on earth and no one understand you, know that I'm with you and I'm there. I love you Will.
Buffy
Willow folded the letter neatly and held it in her hands. Her mind going over what she just read. Then her dam broke. Her tears, her grief and her love for her friend poured out of her eyes.
Angel understood and knelt down beside her and opened his arms to her. Gratefully she slid into them. And they cried, they cried until they had no tears left to cry. Only the burden of grief that would hang over them till they day the would be reunited with their friend.
After the tears had subsided Angel whispered fiercely to her. "I swear. I swear by the love I have for her, I won't die until the monster who did this to her is punished." Fresh tears sprang to his eyes. "I swear. I swear."
The next night Willow walked through the park, on her patrol. Her trusty stake clutched anxiously in her hand. She had ignored Giles' protests of her going out alone on patrol. She had to do this. It was her job. Well not really but it gave her something to do.
Something rustled in the bushed ahead and she wasn't too surprised when the blond vampire she had shoved out of her mind stepped into view. Instead she became weary and tired. "Spike."
"Hello, love. And how are we this evening?" He spied the stake she held tightly. "I see we're walking around in a Slayer's guise. Do you really think that you could take her place?" Willow realized with a start that nothing had changed. Spike preferred to live in denial about what had happened the last time they were together.
Willow gathered all the strength she could muster and turned around and walked away. "Hey!" his voice carried over her shoulder. "I'm talking to you. Aren't we going to fight?"
Willow smiled secretly, the first time she had smiled in a while, and continued to walk out of the park.
"Oh you're no fun!"
The night grew darker and shadows continued to stalk and prey. But Willow was content in the knowledge that in her lifetime, now, and in the future, she was doing something about it.