Title: Bonded in Life

By: Mariah (symonk@bezeqint.net)

Disclaimer: not mine.

Spoilers: everything up to "Graduation Day II", including. Just to be safe.

Rating: PG, I guess.

Pairing: B/A, mention of W/O.

Synopsis: alternate GDII. Just an idea that popped into my head.

Feedback: yes, please:). Welcomed and *very* appreciated.

"You better go, Angel, we'll watch over her."

The vampire's eyes stared back at the former Watcher's and he could barely restrain himself from turning away in disgust. A human being might not know that but having no reflection can seldom be a blessing no words can describe. When there is no reflection, there is no one to look at in the mirror, it's impossible to look yourself in the eyes when you can't see anything. He remembered how he had once told Giles the pleasure of looking in the mirror every day and seeing nothing was overrated. Looking back at it, he knew he had lied. Sometimes you wake up one day and realize... there is so much to see, too much. He woke up with that every day, or night in his case, to be precise, but was that really important. There was only one catch to that blessing though. Only one. That same soul that couldn't see itself in the mirror, could never avoid seeing itself in another person's eyes. And that was a thousand times worse than any mirror could ever be.

When he looked into Giles' eyes that moment, what he saw was himself, the way the ex-Watcher saw him. And that was unbearable.

Angel swallowed hard as his gaze quickly skimmed over the eyes of the rest of the gang. He could disregard Xander's hatred, as if the boy needed a reason for that, could disregard Willow's disappointment and Oz's confusion and uncharacteristic almost mistrust. Though every single one of those and more burned a stamp into every cell of his being, nothing came close to what he saw in Giles' eyes.

He momentarily hang his head in shame, muttering something, that later became clearer as, "I don't want to." He was unable to say it aloud, he didn't let himself to. A part of him, as small and remote as it was, a part that was rapidly taking over his whole... that part didn't think he deserved to be heard.

"The *sun* will be up soon," the elder man asserted, making it clear he wanted the vampire to leave, and he wanted him to leave *now*. He didn't want him around. *They* didn't want him, they banished him with their eyes. Even Willow, he realized ruefully, looking at the small redhead, holding tightly to her boyfriend's hand. Was he really expecting anything else? What was he expecting... an inner voice laughed at the thought alone... forgiveness?

Had he known, when he'd called them, that he would have to face all that when they came? Yes, he had. Had he cared, had he had second thoughts? No. Could he really take his mind, and even just for a brief moment, off the blonde girl lying in a hospital bed in a room just a few feet away? It was the least he could do. After all... he had put her there.

And they knew.

And he was about to yield to them, he was about to go... only that he couldn't.

"I can't," he said quietly, looking up at the group assembled before him, a group of her friends he felt had no place among anymore. "I'm sorry," he muttered, striving to steady his voice as much as possible to sound at least a little convincing.

They could just stare at him, no one said anything, no one could. They all thought he'd walk right past them and out through the door. No one was prepared for that he would... stay.

A moment of silence drifted by that seemed like an hour, the air so thick with tension every breath they took disturbed it. neither one of them moved, neither human, nor vampire. Finally, Willow slipped back into her former self, seemingly forgetting everything she'd learned since they had arrived in the hospital. "Angel?" she spoke, turning to the vampire, her voice bordering its natural tone as no timbre of fear or confusion appeared to be perceptible in it. Her hand moved slightly as though to reach him, but he drew back, in the same time she changed her mind and pulled her arm back as well. "What happened?" she asked quietly, trying to interpret in vain what seemed to be a haunted look in his eyes. 'What didn't?' an inner voice asked simultaneously.

If only he could tell them. Nevermind the fact he wasn't able to talk to either of them, not now of all times, he couldn't *tell* them. Not that, not until he figured out exactly what happened, figure out just how close to the truth he was. They thought *they* were confused... if they only knew what was going on inside of him. Everything he knew had changed so abruptly, the change came on too quick, too sudden for him to follow. He needed to understand, to know what to do. He needed to see her.

Supplying no word of explanation, Angel simply turned on his heel and left the other way, heading straight towards Buffy's room.

Only after a few strides, someone roughly grabbed his arm from behind, whirling him around.

"Let go of me," the vampire hissed, his formerly remorseful voice was now dangerously low.

But obviously not enough to impress Xander, who didn't even attempt to follow. "You're not coming near her," he said flatly, only then letting go of Angel's arm. "Only over my dead body, you are."

The vampire swallowed hard. He wanted to hate that boy, God how many times had he felt that way in the short years they knew each other, if he only counted. If only things were different... how many times had he been on the verge of lashing out on Buffy's friend with everything he had pent up against him, and how fitting would that be at the moment... only if things were different. But they weren't. He had no time for that. What's more... in the back of his mind, he knew Xander couldn't be more right. He deserved it. No matter how true was that all Xander needed was an excuse to hurt him, to snap at him, to *prove* himself right on the grounds of Angel's mistakes... he *didn't* need a reason this time.

But it wasn't the time to let Xander, or anyone else, have even the slightest benefit of the doubt. Angel grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, in such strength it made Xander wonder whether him dying just an hour ago was any more than a mere hallucination. "Don't push me, Xander," he hissed through gritted teeth and let go the boy's arm as abruptly as he had grabbed it before again leaving in the direction of Buffy's room, only this time, with no interference from anyone.

Angel quietly shut the door behind him, as though afraid to disturb her unconscious sleep by causing the faintness of noises, and managed a couple of hesitant steps into the room before the uncertainty overcame him, just for a moment, but apparently enough to make him stop. His eyes wandered aimlessly over the deathly white of the hospital room and he sucked in a shaky breath, before finally resting them on her. He hated hospitals, that something they did have in common. Like a little boy's mind, there was a part of him that would always connect hospitals with death, with grief, with destruction, with pain. It was even stranger coming from him, one who had seen so many of those, being inflicted in every possible shape or form, being the cause of some himself. Maybe that was the true reason why he despised hospitals so much. The death and the pain there was natural, most of it, anyway. And that, just as it was horrible, in some distorted sense, it was comforting.

"You feed off the girl who loves you to save your own ass."

And some weren't as natural.

Who was he supposed to blame for that? Himself? Her? Both of them? Had he only been able to resist her, none of this would have happened. But he couldn't. She knew he couldn't, that's why she knew she could force him into anything she wanted.

Into taking her life.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard her sigh and slightly shift under the covers, the white dressing on her neck making an appearance from under the mass of blond hair. For a second he thought she was going to wake up and subconsciously recognized his inner battle between the urge to flee the room and to remain by her side for when she would open her eyes. He would never know which one would have won though, because to his immense relief, she never did.

Angel closed the remaining distance between them and pulled a chair to her bed, heavily lowering himself into the seat as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He brought a trembling hand to her forehead, mildly stroking her unnaturally pale skin with his fingertips, as his other hand searched for hers, not resting until it found it. He leaned down and planted a tender kiss to her brow, savoring the unique softness of her complexion, he let his lips linger there just a little while longer before drawing away from her and straightening back up.

Even just as he held her hand in his, he could feel it, could feel her blood, her life, coursing through him, warming, regenerating. He had never drank a Slayer before in all his two hundred plus years, but he knew for certain her being a Slayer had so little to do with the fact it was if not *the* most, at least one of the most powerful experiences of his life. He closed his eyes as the memory washed over him, her body limp in his strong arms, molded perfectly against him. Even at that memory, he felt his head spin and his eyes dim in drunken desire, at the thrilling aroma of her thick red blood, willingly pumping through her veins and washing down his raw throat, inside him, allover him...

Angel shook his head, almost allowing her hand to slip out of his grip as his eyes flashed open back into reality. He exhaled and combed a hand through his hair.

"I love you," he whispered, focusing his gaze on her sleeping face.

If she only knew what she did.

"Did he say where he went?" Xander asked, pacing restlessly back and forth in front of Buffy's door, shooting random glances of concern mingled with anger at the vampire sitting by her bed. He had been gone for five minutes, possibly ten, when he returned to find the very confused Willow and Oz alone in the waiting room. He had a strongly justified feeling he had missed out on something important, but he was still convinced that 'taking off for some air' was the preferable thing to do in his state.

"No," Willow shook her head, suspiciously eyeing her childhood friend, whose every glimpse at the vampire pushed closer and closer to the seemingly inevitable moment when he would burst into that room any second and drag him out by force if necessary. "Xander, sit." She patted at the empty seat next to her when she finally had his attention, and after flashing Angel's back another deadly look, he followed her request.

"He didn't say *anything*?" he insisted.

"He..." the redhead seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with what she was about to say next. "He was disturbed by something that Angel said, that... Buffy made him," she quoted the ensouled vampire. "I-I never saw Giles like that, he said it reminded of something he once came across in one of his books, so... he went, to... look in his books," she stumbled over the words as she strove for them to make sense at least to herself. She would give anything just to know what was going through the Englishman's head.

"She made him," Xander tried his take at reasoning through the whole situation. "Taking into account Dead-Boy's a vamp, that term makes perfect sense to me," he dryly pointed out.

"It would. It *did*, to me, it made sense, until I sort of remembered that Angel already *was* a vampire. You can't *make* someone who already is a vampire. I thought he was referring to the fact that she healed him, but-"

"But that wouldn't have sent Giles flying to his books," Xander completed her.

His friend shrugged helplessly and sighed, as she leaned back in her seat, indicating with her body language for him to do the same. There was nothing either of them could do now other than wait, wait for Buffy to wake up, or for Giles to return, whatever came first. But as anxious and concerned as they might be, doing something stupidly useless in a dull attempt to work everything out wouldn't get them anywhere right now. They didn't even know what they were up against yet.

"He's not leaving, is he?"

Willow sharply turned to look at Xander, giving him an odd stare before his words worked their way through her reeling mind. "I..."

"Apparently the 'knight in the shining armor' act with him leaving for her own good didn't last that long. Color me stunned. I mean, just look at him," he directed her attention to Angel with an indifferent gesture of his hand. "Look at the way he's-" his face contorted with almost genuine disgust as he was about to go on, when his friend interrupted him in the least expected way.

"He loves her," she said quietly, looking down from Xander into her lap. Images from only a short while ago raced through her mind and she found herself verbalizing them before she could stop the flow of words. "He was dying," she swallowed and looked up, right into Xander's eyes, in a blunt attempt to speak to his heart, as difficult as it was whenever Angel and what's more, Buffy and Angel, were concerned. "Xand, he was dying and... and he never stopped calling for her. He couldn't do as much as *die* without her."

He groaned, "Will..."

"No," she interrupted him again, putting a hand on his arm, gently forcing him to listen. "When he broke up with Buffy, the next morning, I came to her and... God, Xander, she cried so much I... I never... I was *so* scared for her, she was broken in ways I didn't know was possible, she said she was trying to keep from dying and... looking at her, like that, it wasn't that hard to buy." She paused for a moment, unsure if she should reveal as much of her best friend's most private and inner feelings, especially seeing as Buffy hadn't found it necessary to let Xander in on any of that herself. But he was right in what he'd said, she knew he was, looking at the way things were now, Angel wasn't likely to be going anywhere anytime soon, or better said, at all. Willow could only wish she knew why, what had changed his mind, but whatever it was, he was staying. And if he were staying... there were a few things it was her duty as a best friend to open Xander's eyes to. "She said he told her he didn't love her anymore," Willow continued, turning her thoughts back to the subject of Buffy and Angel. "She said she couldn't believe him. I couldn't believe that either, I mean... not Angel. But now I *know* it's not true. I know because he told me. He was... delirious, hanging by a thread as it was, he thought I was Buffy. Xander, he was *dying*," she emphasized, "all he could think of was to be able to tell her that he was sorry, that he needed her."

He beheld her gravely for a long moment before shattering everything she tried to achieve the last few minutes, "He drank her blood, Will."

The redhead inhaled a deep breath before replying to that argument. When she did, there were no additional explanations other than what was needed to be said. "He didn't."

"Will, he put her in a *hospital*, he almost *killed* her!" he jumped to his feet, not even realizing that his voice was rising simultaneously with his anxiety with each word that left his lips.

Oz, who until now appeared to be completely excluded from this conversation, was the one to first acknowledge the stares his friend's little outburst began to draw and pointedly gesticulated with his hand at the empty seat, indicating for Xander to sit back down and calm before things went too far. "Keep it down, man," he advised.

Xander complied and lowered his voice. "Guess I'm an old-fashioned guy, but I think *that* is the kind of love she can do without," he told Willow.

"Xander, listen to me," she drew in another breath, as if to gather more strength. Though her friend seemed to have not heard a word she said, her mind was resolutely set on getting through to him, no matter what. "Let's leave aside for a second the fact that Angel was *dying*, he could barely keep his eyes open for five minutes straight, let alone force himself on a *Slayer*. Let's even forget the fact he didn't know anything about there being a cure, or for that matter, what said cure was. But let's not forget this - *you* were there when Buffy went after Faith, she went to *kill* Faith, kill a human being, as hard as it is to combine that term and 'Faith' in the same sentence," she observed, a bit sarcastically, all the while recognizing the irrelevance of that comment. "Now tell me, before Angel's life was at stake, had you *ever* thought *Buffy* would go and do something like that?"

He faintly shook his head, not saying anything.

"Xander," she inwardly prepared to deliver the final blow, "you may not want to believe that, but inside you *know* it's true..."

"No," he shook his head determinably.

"She *fed* herself to him," Willow spoke the exact words her friend refused to accept were true.

He held his palms up when she attempted to touch him and rose to his feet, making a couple of steps backwards. "I need some air," he muttered, excusing himself, as he stormed away down the hall.

"Angel?"

He looked up, disconnecting his lips from her hand, which he had safely cradled in his.

When he didn't say anything, Buffy saw she would have to be the leader of that conversation, at least at first. "What are you doing here?" She pulled her hand from his hold to help herself sit up, never tearing her eyes from the vampire's.

His gaze dropped on his empty hands as though he was taking his time to accustom to the lack of hers in them and to understand why she had taken it away in the first place. A moment later, he was back to his senses, "How are you?"

"Heal fast," she mumbled, and he didn't miss the slight blush coloring her pale cheeks when she reached one hand to touch her punctured neck. "So do you," she acknowledged, by that smoothly taking his attention off of her.

"Yeah," he breathed, looking down from her. When he looked back up, there was a strange resolve in his eyes she had never encountered before, but though it seemed he was going to tell her something, he was clearly struggling with the right way to do that. "Buffy, I-"

"Angel," she covered his hand with hers, causing him to stop and look her in the eyes. When he did, she smiled faintly, but candidly. "I have no regrets. Okay?" She squeezed his hand and after a moment quietly repeated, "No regrets. No matter what we are, where we'll... be. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Surprising her, he shook his head. He had enough regrets for the two of them put together, he sure didn't need her help in *that* department. "It's not that."

"Okay," she nodded, awkwardly pulling her hand back and biting her lip as she shifted her slightly wounded gaze back to her lap. "What is it then?"

If only he could tell her how his heart was crying for her that moment, crying to wrap his arms around her, to hold her, to whisper words in her ear of dull promises that would make her heart melt and swear to her there were so many things he didn't mean...

"I need to... tell you something," he began.

Buffy gulped, nodding, and gathered her feet to her chest, still not directing her gaze at him.

"Buffy, something happened when I... fed off you, something I had no idea was even possible." He stopped for a moment, hoping she would do as much as look his way, but she didn't. He sighed, conquering his drive to merely touch her hand. He better tell his story, now that he already started. "You know that as long as there've been vampires, there've been Slayers, good and evil, right and wrong, hunting each other..."

"Are you gonna pull a Giles on me now?" Buffy shot him a slightly irritated look before averting her gaze again.

Ignoring that snide comment, Angel continued right from where he'd left off. "Vampires hunt Slayers, always have."

"Probably has something to do with the fact it's a two-players game," she inserted. She didn't even try to hide her annoyance and even more, disappointment. She had expected him to say he was sorry, as much as it would hurt to hear him take the blame, she had expected him to never see her again until the battle, hell, she had even expected him to skip town, split on the first chance he got, she *hadn't* expected to hear stories. When he didn't say anything else in a while, she looked up with a sigh. "I'm sorry," she whispered. They say the line between love and hate is the thinnest, but no matter how angry she may be, when she looked deep into his chocolate orbs... it suddenly wasn't anger she was feeling. "Go on," she prompted.

"As opposed to popular belief, vampires don't hunt Slayers for the kill. They do, but... they also hunt them for their blood. There is a legend, goes way before my time, it probably goes all the way to the beginning of times... they're all waiting for the one."

"The one?" Buffy echoed, confusion coloring her voice. She chuckled inwardly, reflecting upon his little story so far, good to know he still hadn't lost his cryptic touch... "The one who?" she asked again.

"Slayer," Angel explained. "Every vampire that drinks a Slayer hopes she is the one. According to what the legend says, one day there would come a Slayer, and the vampire that would drink her would take so much more than just her blood. He would be almost invincible as far as vampires go, immune to everything that either kills or harms a normal vampire, he would merge with her," never taking his eyes off his Slayer, the vampire lifted her hand and placed it over his heart.

"Angel," she gasped, her fingers trembling slightly at the feel of a steady throbbing in his chest. "Oh God..."

He put his hand over hers, offering a small smile in return to the shimmering tears in her eyes that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Still a vampire," he said, answering her unasked question. "The only reason I have that," he nodded down at his chest, "is because you're still alive. The only way to severe the bond without it affecting me was to drink you to death," he slightly shivered at the thought and it reflected in his voice, causing her to turn her palm underneath his and lace their fingers together. "I didn't. Now my heart is beating only as long as yours is."

"What are you saying?" she still didn't understand.

"You did so much more than save my life, Buffy, you..." he swallowed, again fighting the burning urge to touch her. "I share your strength now, I share your power, your heart is beating in my chest and your blood is coursing through my veins. We are united. We are one. Buffy... you have to know something..."

"No," she cut him off, her voice hoarse with tears that were now freely streaming down her cheeks, and flung her arms around him, passionately locking his lips in a kiss, "I don't care... don't care," she mumbled incoherently in the brief interventions between kisses.

"Buffy," Angel had to conjure up all of his strength to practically tear her off of him. "Please... there's something else, there's..." his eyes roamed desperately over her, unable to speak out the words he needed her to hear the most. His lips moved faintly a few times but no words came past them.

"Angel," she cupped his cheek with her hand, gently directing his gaze to meet hers.

"Buffy, the... the bond," he finally managed to force the words out. "In order for the vampire to take what he needs and be free from the Slayer, he needs to kill her as the bond's forming, to... drink her to death. But now... Buffy, if one of us dies... If one of us dies, it kills the other. If I die..." the words faded on Angel's lips as he perceived her eyes on him.

Buffy gazed at him for a moment, seemingly the longest in his life, a moment in which her eyes said nothing to him. Her eyes had never said nothing to him, he could see the world and beyond in those bright green pools. They spoke volumes. He didn't know what it meant when they said nothing.

"I love you," she whispered softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling closer to him, possessively claiming him hers again.

"Buffy," he sighed, closing his eyes, digging his long fingers into the blond of her hair.

"I love you so much," his ears perceived her voice again though it was muffled by his chest. "Don't you know that by now?"

THE END.