Title: Always
Author: Bree
Feedback: petdrusilla@aol.com
Rating: PG
Pairing: B/A
Summary: Buffy meets Angel on “neutral ground” following Flooded.
Notes: Some pure B/A melodrama for those who enjoy that sorta thing.
The town was called Bear Valley, though it wasn’t a town exactly, only a collection of secluded houses, some antique shops, and a deserted Italian restaurant called Bella Sardona, with three lush rosebushes growing outside. Those pale pink flowers hypnotized him. He considered taking a few for her, for the streets were so empty no one would see, but it was a silly idea, something an unthinking teenage boy would do before a first date. Their color was so utterly unique, though, like the flesh of a human baby. No, she was worth far more than stolen roses.
The truth was, he felt ill-prepared for this. What could have made him feel otherwise, he did not know, but the anxiety was almost paralyzing, weighing him down like lead in his stomach. The moon hung high above his head when he finally made his way up the hill, past neatly trimmed lawns and empty porches, and through thick patches of enormous trees filled with the bright eyes of the deer, who stared at him from inside the envelope of the darkness.
When the trees thinned, he saw her at last, standing with her back to him at the precipice of a massive cliff. Below, the lights of the cities to the west were sprinkled over the black like fireflies, mingling with the stars. For an instant he considered leaving, not forcing her to face him, which was always painful, but the pain was tenfold now. But it would have taken a stronger creature than even him to walk away.
“This is just like I imagined it,” he murmured softly. “Every night, since you . . . Left. I dreamt of a moment like this.”
She didn’t turn around, and he was afraid he had said the wrong thing, for after a pause he could hear her crying. “Come here, Angel . . . Please. Just come here.”
He did, as swiftly as he could, for he didn’t know how he could ever disobey her again. He put his arms around her from behind, and when their cheeks pressed together, the warm tears wet his cold face. They stayed like that for a long while, and it was pure rapture, but eventually she pulled away and looked at him. The change was evident in her face--the haunted eyes, the translucent skin. She was altered.
“You didn’t ask me,” she whispered.
“Ask you what?”
“How I am. If I’m okay. On the phone, and just now. You never asked.”
He smiled. “I didn’t need to ask. I know you. I know you’ll make it. You always do.”
She smiled back. “At least someone thinks so.”
“The others are just worried about you. They need you. The world needs you, Buffy.”
“I know,” she said, frowning. “But . . . Angel, I’m so confused. I’ve always known what my duty was . . . But I did it, I finished the job, I stopped more apocalypses then a cheap tabloid could ever even predict. When is it going to be over?”
“Well, there’s still that two-headed alien baby to contend with. And I hear Elvis is alive, but he may or may not have been bit by a werewolf.”
She snickered and stared at him incredulously. “Since when did you develop a sense of humor?” She surveyed his clothes, his t-shirt, denim jacket, faded jeans. “You look so . . . Normal.” Then, as if it were an afterthought. “How are you?”
“It’s been . . . Hard. Knowing you were gone. Even though we weren’t together, I . . . I got some comfort from knowing that you were still living your life in Sunnydale, taking care of your family, fighting evil, being you. Strong . . . Amazing you. While that was still true, then there was still a chance, even the smallest chance of--”
“A miracle? You turning human? Something like that?”
His eyes widened at her suggestion, and the memories of that erased day come flooding back. “It’s not such a strange thing to think of.”
“No,” she took his hand. “It isn’t. I guess . . . I can’t ask for too many miracles.”
“You coming back isn’t a miracle, Buffy. It’s a very real, very disastrous mistake. And you know it.”
Buffy suddenly yanked her hand away. His chest stung at the gesture.
“Why would you say something like that to me?”
Angel sighed deeply. “I’ve been to hell, Buffy. I know what it’s like. I know what it does to you. You never went there . . . Did you?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry. I should have realized that you would see right through me, like you always do. You’re right, Angel. It was a mistake. But there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“The world needs a slayer, and you are the most powerful it has ever known. But the world has demanded of you more than it has a right to.”
She raised a shaking hand to her face, pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “Story of my life. And my death.”
“I wish I could help you.”
“Well you can’t. Unless you have a few thousand stashed away somewhere, I’m just gonna go back home, have some dinner, and accumulate some more debt. Is that okay by you?”
Angel slid an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll send you what I can when I get back to L.A.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m sorry. Life stuff, you know? It’s always kind of a handicap to that whole sacred duty thing. Or the feeling-sorry-for-myself thing, which is kinda what I’m into now.”
He grinned. She knew full well that he would send the money anyway. It wouldn’t be much, but it would always plague his soul if he didn’t. They were silent again for a while, and when he next spoke, he was convinced some demon had possessed him and forced him to say what he was thinking. “Would you punch me in the stomach if I told you I loved you?”
She laughed, shortly and bitterly. “Way to make me feel better.”
After a moment, he asked another stupid question. “What was it like?”
She leaned her head onto his shoulder. “It was kind of like waking up on a cold day underneath warm covers, how that sleepy, wonderful feeling just washes over you, and you’re just a random thing . . . Just existing. And you never have to wake up to fight, or worry, or watch after anyone. You can just lie there. Because everything is always taken care of.”
He closed his eyes, tried to imagine it, but he could feel her nose wrinkling. “On second thought, that’s not what it’s like. Not at all.”
Her voice had grown sad again, and he knew she was leaving him, walking away as she had so many times before. She didn’t say goodbye; it wasn’t needed. He watched her go, the shadows surrounding her becoming more and more enshrouding.
“Angel?” she called back. It startled him.
“Yes?”
“I love you too. I always will.”
Those words, that carried both ecstasy and horror for him, would echo in his mind for a long time to come. Of that he could be certain.
The End
