THE BECOMING SAGA

AGAINST ALL ODDS

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This little ditty takes place after Becoming Part 2. It was inspired by a song I woke up to and then found on one of my Love Songs of the 80's CDs. It's vague on details but I think hits the bullseye for the B/Aers..I hope.

STORY NOTES: This is is the first part of what is "planned" to be a four part series. Three stories plus an epilogue. However, you never know, if I get disgruntled enough, I could just drop the series and let the stories I have stand on their own. I'm whacky like that. ;-)

DEDICATION: To my sister who played the song that I woke up to and then kept replaying it until the gelatine found it's own mold. And to Erana because you just bloody rock.

DISCLAIMER: The characters of Buffy, Angel and the Scooby Gang belong to Joss "Da Man" Whedon and his AMAZING staff of writers. It also belongs to the WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy and SandDollar and I'm sure there are a few other sorted characters with their hands in the pie.

Also, the title comes from a Phil Collins song. The song quoted throughout this piece is "Sometimes When We Touch" by Dan Hill.

He slammed his fist against the bag with devastating force. And then came back with a left hook. His eyes locked on the blue leather that was the target of his anger and frustration. Only that wasn't true. It was only a subsitute. For her. For the damned Slayer.

He pulled back and then lashed out with a kick. His muscles were beginning to cramp from the extended work-out and yet he found that he neither could nor wanted to let up. There was so much emotion that needed to be worked out and the only other way he knew was to take it out on the source. And he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

She'd returned three months after she'd left Sunnydale without a word to any of them. The only sign that she was alive had been a neat and vague note addressed to her mother.

"Please understand that I no longer know who I am. And I'm not sure I care. What I do know however is that if I don't get away now, I'll destroy everything around me. I've already done that to the man I love. I won't do that to anyone else. I love you. Never doubt that."

He himself had been back for at least six weeks, returned by Willow and Giles in a ritual that had involved chants and the blood sacrifice of an enemy. Xander. The boy had put his hatred and anger aside for the simple hope that perhaps Angel could find the missing Slayer. But she'd returned on her own.

Without ceremony or fireworks, the little Slayer had entered the library one hot afternoon wearing baggy jeans and a loose white tee-shirt. Her blonde hair had been pulled back but it'd been obvious to all of them that it lacked it's usual shine. As did her face. Void of make-up, she'd looked pale and worn. Dark bags had clung to her eyes and a second look at her baggy clothing has confirmed a severe amount of weight loss.

Willow Rosenberg had jumped to her feet and pulled her best friend into a tight hug, uncertain of the reality of what she was seeing and unwilling to let go if it was true. Buffy had just smiled and said, "Hey guys."

That had been the beginning of it all. Her eyes had locked on him and for the briefest of moments, she had begun to tremble, a hand stretching towards him and she whispered his name. He had pulled her tightly into his arms and cradled her against his chest, willing the tears to come. But they never had. God help them all, the Slayer had locked down.

They'd all asked where she'd been. But she'd refused to answer. Said simply that she'd been wandering. And her blue eyes had gotten a mysterious and distant look in them, as if she'd willingly left a piece of her behind in order to make it easier to return.

That'd been the last real moment between them. Sure, they'd spent a couple evenings together, hunting or lying on his bed but nothing had felt right. Her muscles had been tense beneath his fingers, her words clipped as if she was holding back. The only times he felt like he was seeing the girl he loved was when she was angry; when they'd fight.

Unfortunately as of late, that'd been all to common and yet all to infrequent. They'd argue and she'd walk away, seemingly satisfied that she'd pushed him away again or they'd fight and he would have to leave before he pushed to hard and hurt her. He wasn't ready to do that yet.

He slammed his fist against the bag again. Joining the all-night gym had been a good idea.

Two nights earlier, she had met him briefly at the Bronze to tell him that it was over. And then she had walked away like it was that simple. Like they could both just turn their backs on it as if it were no more that a simple high-school crush.

He kicked the bag and then followed with another punch that made it quiver. Fifty bucks a month was definately worth it. Even if his hand was throbbing with surprising intensity.

His time in Hell had felt like an eternity. Forever spent watching images of hurting her. Of seeing her cry because of the things Angelus had done and said to her. And yet he had understood. Realized that the only thing that had kept his lover sane through it all was the memory of the love she had shared with the real him and not the torment caused by his demon self.

And that had been the same thing that had kept him sane. The reality that Buffy was still alive. And that Angelus had failed to break her.

Funny how his love for her had suceeded where Angelus had failed.

She was broken. Her final sacrifice, duty for love had driven her past the breaking point. When she had pushed the sword through him, no longer Angelus but Angel, the man who had held her as her heart had calmed from their night of unbelievable passion, he had seen the horror in her eyes, the self-hatred and the realization that she was sending not only the man she loved but her own soul to hell.

But even his return didn't seem to be helping. Because she had still done it. Even when he tried to tell her that he understood because of everything the demon had done, she would just smile thinly and without humour and he would know then that he still wasn't getting through.

And the walls were getting higher. Her eyes glassier. As if she were marching towards an eventual end where she would gladly lay down her life to end it.

"Never," Angel hissed, kicking at the bag. He had no intention of losing her. Not ever again.

The reality was that they never should have been given a second chance. He should never have allowed it. But they had and he had. And now that the decision had been made, he had every intention of making good on it.

He caught the swinging bag with his arms and steadied it. Resting his forehead against it, he pictured her in his arms. Sitting on a bench in the park, resting her head against his chest, making some comment about how she should be hunting but she could see the whole park so this was good enough. And then she'd turned to him, eyes glazed with passion and love and kissed him on the lips.

He hadn't seen that look since she'd returned. Anything but. She pretended to be the Buffy of old but they all knew better. It was a good thing she wasn't into acting because she couldn't have fooled a five year old. The shadows in her eyes told the story. She was lost. A child who wanted to hide in the corner and retreat from all the pain.

Which she had with amazing effectiveness. And they all knew it. Willow had tried talking to her, mentioning the old subjects that used to get a rise out of her best friend but all she would get in return was a wary smile. Her mother wondered what had happened to her little girl, to the child that could find the light in any dark tunnel. Where her baby had gone. None of them could offer her any answers because they were all wondering the same thing.

Angel walked away from the bag and started to unwrap the tape from his hands. Just because he was immortal didn't mean that he was exactly fond of un-neccesary pain. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was almost eleven. He stepped into the shower and turned the hot water on full.

As the water scalded his back, he breathed in sharply. The sensitivity was just starting to return to his skin. Part of his toment in Hell had included needles and other sharp instruments that had left his body numb. But not his heart or mind.

He brushed his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he saw flashes of her. As she'd been before her seventeenth birthday. Smiling, full of youth and energy. She'd proclaimed her love to him and then wrapped her slender arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. Absoloute trust and love, no walls between them. Nowadays, all there was, was walls.

He turned the water off and immediately yelped as the cold air hit his wet skin. Great. Now everything was hitting him in the extreme. He dressed hastily and then waved to the counter-boy. The kid nodded back and went back to playing his video game. Angel shook his head and then stepped out into the warm summer evening. He took a deep breath and then slowly began to move towards her house. He needed to see her.

Of course, per usual, his plans changed when he saw her fighting off three rather ugly looking long-toothed chaps in the local cemetary.

She went down under the force of a club to the back of the head. These weren't Spike's boys. They'd all fled after their leader had mysteriously disappeared. No, these were a totally different breed. The new local vampire king, Issac was a savage type. Moreso than even the Master or Spike. Both of them had been ruled by the darkness of human emotions, hatred, lust, power. Issac only wanted to destroy the Slayer and then follow it up with the destruction of any human life that would oppose him. He was Angelus' type of vampire. In fact an old pal of his demon self. More reason not to allow Issac to hurt his lover.

He jumped into the fight, knocking away the vampire that was hovering closest to the fallen Slayer. She rubbed the back of her head and tried desperately to regain her equillibrium. These vamps were more dangerous because Issac kept them armed with weapons, knives and guns, clubs and sticks. They could kill Buffy without coming within ten feet of her.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked sharply, hoping that the severity of the fight would convince her that now was not the time to push him away.

"I'm fine," she replied just as sharply. Damn.

She stood back up and reached for one of the vampires. "I can handle this."

"I'm sure you can." Angel replied, shoving a stake through one of the vampires' hearts. "But I'd prefer to keep you whole."

She shot him an annoyed look and then lashed out with a kick that sent vampire number two flying into a tree. "Yep, that's me, Wholeness Girl."

"So I see," he said softly, decking the third vampire and then easily dispatching it as Buffy staked the second one. He looked back at her and saw her rubbing her head. "You sure you're alright?"

"Did I say I wasn't?"

"Would you?" Angel replied, irked by her attitude. It seemed like her most dangerous defense mechanism was her attitude. It infuriated him and made him want to throttle her until she cried. Part of him realized that eventually it would come down to being forced to do that.

She looked back at him and saw both the anger and frustration sparking in his dark eyes. Those same eyes that had once looked at her with endless amounts of passion. Only to be replaced by hatred. His lips were turned up in a frown. Those same lips that had once praised her endlessly and smiled shyly at the very sight of her. And then been turned to the crazed smirk of a creature that delighted in her pain and laughed at her tears.

She turned away from him and bent down to pick up her crossbow. His hand caught hers before her fingers could graze the hard oak wood. She swallowed hard and tried to calm her heart before it went slamming into heart attack territory. Nowadays all she felt when he touched her was panic. That she would turn and look into his eyes and see that cruelty or that his lips would be smirking at her pain. Or worse even that his eyes would relay love and his lips would touch hers. The latter was more than she could bare.

"Please," she whispered.

"Buffy..."

"I just want to get home. I'm tired. I want to sleep." Buffy said simply, trying to pull away. He held on tighter. Ever since her return, she'd been less able to phsyically pull away from him. And although she hadn't lost anymore weight, she also hadn't gained any leaving her looking very small and young. Which made her Slayers' gaze look all the more out of place.

"Will you sleep?" Angel asked.

She blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"You've said many things."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm saying you need help," Angel replied, lifting his hand to her cheek.

"Maybe I do. But not yours." She shot back, shoving him away. She grabbed her crossbow and then turned away from him and walked crisply away from him.

"When are you going to stop running?" He shouted after her, hands clenched into fists. And she stopped. And stared at the ground, her blue eyes filling with tears as his words ripped straight to her heart. Her lip trembled as she fought for control. Closing her eyes tightly, she fought back the pain that was trying to surface, the hurt that was trying to get out.

She turned around and looked at him, her face an emotionless mask, barely controlled. "It's over, Angel. Let it go. Let us both go."

"I can't do that. I can't walk away and if you were honest with yourself for once, you would realize that you can't either. Stop lying to yourself."

"Some lies are neccesary," she replied quietly, echoing an old statement of his. She looked down at the ground. "It's better this way. We can both move on. You can love again."

"That's low. You know that I could never love anyone but you." Angel hissed.

She smiled without humour. "Goodbye Angel." She turned around and began to walk away.

"No!" He grabbed her arm and then her wrist. Holding it tightly, he pushed her backwards. "This has got to stop. I know about running. I've been doing it forever but it's gotta end for both of us. The truth hurts, Buffy. It hurts like hell but we can face this together."

"Together?" She laughed, an odd pained laugh. "There is no together. Go away. You want to do something for me? Leave me alone. Let me be. I don't want to be with you anymore. I..I don't love you anymore."

Her fingers slid away from her wrist and he allowed her to move away from her as her words struck him over and over. He watched her disappear into the night fog and then he turned and smashed his hand into the gravestone.

Willow circled around and wrapped an arm around his back. "You can't give up."

"Will.."

"She said what she knew would hurt you. She's trying to push you away. You're the only one who can get through. "Willow said, acting as if her words were the most obvious truth in the world. Perhaps they were. "I love her, all of us do. We'd do anything we could to help her through this but I'm not sure I have a clue what she's going through. I think you might."

Angel looked down at his hands. "I don't want to hurt anymore, Will. I don't think I could bare to see her cry."

"You need to. She needs to." Willow replied. "It's been almost two months since she returned. She scared the hell out of me the way she acted after the Master killed her but this is worse. Then she was outwardly well...bitchy..now she's just so distant. It's like the lights are on and she's home but she won't answer the door."

"I know." Angel said softly. "I did this to her."

"Don't start that. You know better." Giles said, walking into the room. He handed Angel a mug full of warm red fluid. "It's fresh. That might help slow down the hyper-sensitivity problem that you seem to be experiencing. Your body is trying to regulate itself..it's just going to extremes I'm afraid."

"Right," he muttered, sipping the blood, feeling strange that he was acting as if it were coffee.

"Angel, I don't think she's scared of you." Giles said as he casually checked the vampires' mashed hand. "I would guess that her fear is more of herself, of her emotions."

"But I'm the direct result of those emotions."

"Angel, love can't be helped. None of us thought it was smart but it couldn't be controlled and it shouldn't be blamed." Giles replied. "In any case, I don't think she's stopped feeling. She's just doing it in a more self-destructive manner. And Willow is right I'm afraid..you may be the only one who can break through."

He nodded and continued to sip his drink thoughtfully. They were right of course. On both counts. He was the only one who could get through to her. And he would have to break through.

He found her fighting in the cemetary the next evening. Blood rolled down the side of her face from a gaping gash just above her left eye. He could see her wince in pain as she ran two fingers past the wound. She looked exhausted and yet she kept moving, her muscles repeating a devastating pattern of kicks and punches to her attackers.

One charged her, a knife raised to strike. He stepped in the way and easily disarmed the startled vampire. He broke it's arm and then staked it. Buffy didn't even spare him a look, just went about her business until all there was, was dust.

"What are you doing here?" she asked crisply, turning to stare at him with ice in her blue eyes. He felt a chill wind it's way through his body but he decided that the time had come to end this. It was now or never.

"I came for you, Slayer." Angel growled, advancing on her. Involuntarily, stunned,the little Slayer fell back a step, the arrogance gone from her attitude.

"What?"

He reached out and grabbed her wrists. "I'm not letting you go."

She pushed him away, "I'm not giving you the choice. What are you, Stalker Boy now?"

"Well you know," he said coldly," Cryptic Guy, Stalker Boy, Angel, Angelus..we're all the same." His eyes narrowed as his face shifted into his vampiric visage. He saw the unmistakable flash of fear as she flinched at the change.

A moment later she lifted her hands to protect her, all of her Slayers' skills forgotten as he charged her. She whimpered as his fist struck solidly against her cheek and she fell to the ground. He straddled her hips and grabbed at her collar, lifting her a few inches off the ground.

"It's not all about you, Slayer."

"Angel, please.."

"You don't get to decide if I love you or if I walk away. And you can't make all the hurt yours. I need to heal too but you're so damn selfish, you won't let either of us."

Her lower lip quivered as his hold tightened around her and the pain became intense. And yet even then he didn't let up, his anger and frustration etched into the ridges of his face.

"You're scared, aren't you? Well so am I? Do you think I ever wanted to fall in love with you? You're a child! Do you think I needed the complication of loving someone like you?"

"Like me?" she whispered, fear still obvious in her eyes. He could feel his heart breaking at the pain he was causing her but he could also tell that it was working. He was forcing her walls to crumble.

"Oh get over it, Buffy. You're not the only one who's hurting, who is being torn apart inside. Do you have any idea what it's like to be there watching while a demon uses your body to destroy everything you give a damn about? Well I do. But I dealt with it. I conquered it because my love for you was more important." He shook his head in disgust, his grip tightening to the point of bruising. "I guess now I realize that my feelings were one-sided."

Her eyes widened in horror and then he saw it. A spark of rage. She shoved him away and then followed quickly with a left hook that dropped him to his butt. "You son of a bitch! After everything I did, everything I gave up, how could you doubt my love for you?" A single tear splashed down her cheek and she wiped at it angrily. "I gave you more than just my virginity, you bastard, I gave you my heart and soul so don't you dare tell me that I don't love you."

"Then you still do?" He asked quietly, his face returning to normal.

She blinked and turned away from him. "Damn you, damn you, damn you." She fought for control and then turned back to face him. "You think you're so smart, don't you? Hurt me into admitting I love you..it won't work."

"It already has." Angel replied quietly.

"Well you're wrong. My love, your love, it doesn't matter. It never has. And maybe I am selfish about the pain but we were selfish to think that we had any right to be together. My life isn't about me or you. And it's time I took responibility for my destiny."

"Why don't you start taking responsibility for your soul, Slayer." Angel growled, now just as angry as she. It seemed as though his love for her had pushed her away once again. He had to act fast if he was gonna manage to get through before she reconstructed the walls.

"This is it Buffy. The end of the line, you've got to decide if you're gonna keep running forever or stop and learn how to live again. Believe me, the running can only hurt you worse. We can make it through this or you can be the coward I'm wondering how I fell in love with."

"Go to hell." She hissed, turning away from him.

"I've already been there. You sent me, remember?" His tone was quiet, a fact. Not an accustation. She heard it as the latter.

She stopped, her feet locked in the dirt. And then she fell to her knees and began to sob as her body was wracked with devastating tremors.

He caught her before she could topple and brought her to his chest. He pressed his lips up against her hair and wrapped his arms tightly about her, unwilling to let her go. Her tears fell fast and hard, leaving a growing wet spot on his shirt.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, clutching at him harder, as scared of losing him as he was of letting her go.

"Shh,it's okay, lover." Angel whispered, kissing her cheek. He wanted to kiss her, to silence the pained whimpers and sobs that continue to emerge from between her lips but he was wary of making any sudden movements. Everything was so delicate. "I love you. Everything is going to be okay."

He carried her into her house and up to her room. Hesistantly, he let her drop out of his arms and into the bed. He covered the exhausted Slayer with a blanket and then moved to the bathroom to get a first aide kit for the gash above her eye. As he walked, he hit against the wall with his shoulder and winced. The hyper-sensitivity was decreasing but not at the speed he wished it was. Afterall, it was still there.

He returned a few moments later and began to gently dab at the wound, not wanting to wake or hurt her. Her eyelids fluttered as she was sucked unwillingly into the dream world that so haunted her. "I'm sorry I had to do that. But I couldn't lose you. You're the only thing that keeps me sane. You're the only reason I'm alive. If it weren't for you, I'd still be back in New York wasting away. I need you. I can't live without you." He looked down. "I won't."

He finished cleaning the wound. Leaning over, he kissed it softly and then he placed a gauze pad over it. "I would do anything not to hurt you but I had no choice." Moving her gently aside, he wrapped his arms around her and lay down next to her, resting his chin on her hair and pulling her tight.

He'd hoped she would come to see him. That they could talk and take the first step towards making everything right. But no. He'd woken up the next morning to see her sitting by her window, staring out at the bright sky. The bed was bathed in darkness but she was sitting in the light that he could not venture into. After a few minutes, she had pulled the shades closed and turned to him. "I need some time."

He had nodded, slowly. It wasn't what he had wanted to hear but he certainly understood. So much had happened between them and it wasn't all just gonna disappear because he'd broken the walls down. Now came the really hard part. She was vunerable, openly wounded, as was he. But neither of them could heal without the other. He just had to convince her of that. Convince her that she was more than just the only woman he could ever love, she was also the one he could ever trust.

She was sitting in the graveyard, legs crossed on a new plot of dirt. He wondered idly why she was tempting fate but then decided that they had more pressing concerns.

"Hi," he said softly, wanting to reach out and take her into his arms. He saw pain sparkle in her blue eyes and instinctively, he felt the need to press his lips to hers in order to make her forget about everything that was hurting. He hoped that he was the same kind of ointment that she was to his wounded soul.

"Hi," she murmured, fighting back on the urge to rush into his arms and just cry out all of her pain. There was so much. So much raw anguish that it was practically overwhelming.

"May I?" he asked, indicating the spot next to her. She nodded slightly and then scooted needlessly so he could sit next to her. He reached out to wrap an arm around her and then hesistated. Their eyes locked, his searching for consent and hers looking for the love he'd promised. Finally she nodded again and he pulled her close. "Are you okay?"

"I hurt." Buffy said softly.

"I know. I do too. But I hurt more every moment I'm not with you."

"What about the warning label?" she asked innocently, her blue eyes brimming with tears.

He smiled. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"Angel, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..for everything. I just wanted to be with you.."

"Shh...it's okay..it doesn't matter.."

"Yes, it does..please..it does..you need to know...I wanted to give you everything, be with you every way I could...I'm so sorry.."

"Buffy, listen to me," Angel said, lifting her chin so that he could stare into her eyes, "We're both responsible for that. I love you. I wanted it as much as you did. My only regret..ONLY regret is that the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced was used to let that bastard Angelus loose. If any of us have anything to apologize for, it's me for letting him do that to you."

"What?"

"I saw it all," he murmured, kissing her softly. "I was with you the whole time, walking beside you and begging you to kill him..anything to end your pain. Part of me wishes you had..anything..but I'm glad you didn't because I think..I think now we have another chance and this time I don't intend to ever let you go."

"But what about the sword..and hell?"

"You did what you had to do. I don't blame you for that. I won't let you blame yourself..we've both been through enough hell."

"Angel, I'm so scared."

"I know." He replied, reaching down and lifting her face to his. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. A moment later, she closed her eyes and let the passion sweep the pain away, if only for awhile.

"So the curse is irreversible?" Xander asked as he stirred his drink. He glanced up at Willow who smiled and nodded.

"Cordelia, Giles and I did a ritual today that destroyed that whole happiness clause. Buffy and Angel can finally be together." Willow said with a sad smile.

"I figured you'd be happier." Xander said tersely. The fact that Dead Boy was still among them was not a spot of giddiness for him but he had the intelligence to realize that his grudge against Angel could do far more harm thn good. Buffy neeeded their love and support and he wasn't about to disappoint or hurt her anymore than he had. When he'd admitted lying to her, he'd seen the pain there as she'd turned away. He'd felt his heart break as she'd walked away, unable to put together the words to yell at him.

And yet earlier that same day, she'd come to his house and entered his room. Walked right up to him and punched him across the face and then said softly, "Don't ever presume to take that choice away from me again." And then she had reached out and wrapped her arms around him, curling against him. She hadn't cried but he had understood. It had been enough and he realized that he would move heaven and earth never to hurt her again. Even if that meant accepting the existance of Angel in her life. Anything to give her the happiness she had more than paid for.

"Well that's because as of this morning, they're still not Buffy and Angel..they're Buffy.....and Angel." Willow replied, making a clear distinction between the couple and the individuals.

"So now it's just up to them," Cordelia said softly as she came over to the table and took the seat next to Xander. She put a hand around his arm and smiled up at him. He smiled back and wrapped an arm around her.

"Hey, what about that weird hyper-sensitivity thing of his?"

"Giles said it's fading back to normal." Willow replied. "He should be..alr.." she stopped mid-setence, her eyes locked on the dance floor.

Xander and Cordelia followed her gaze, expecting to see Willow's steady, Oz dancing in the crowd or doing something equally goofy but what they saw were Buffy and Angel. Together. And Willow smiled.

The little Slayer clung to her vampiric lover as they moved slowly to the music. His hands gently massaged the tension from her back, his lips on her cheek a soft promise that everything would be alright. Her eyes closed as she trusted him to guide her to peace.

And yet he could still feel the fear. Right beneath the surface. Now trying to disguise itself as something else. He pulled her closer to him and inhaled deeply, taking in her familiar scent. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears and then unable to reply, rested her head back against his chest and held on tightly, afraid to let go.