They were patrolling again.
It had become their nightly ritual, and something that both
slayers found they enjoyed doing together. For Buffy it was a relaxation of
worrying for her friends who thought they were helping, but who often needed
saving instead. For Faith it was a new experience; she never had anyone to
do…pretty much anything with. It was nice, nice and new and she hoped she
didn’t screw it up.
Tonight the topic of conversation was on ex’s.
Specifically, on Angel.
“Come on, B,” Faith cajoled as they wandered through
the gravestones. “I know you had this big old thing for him. Tell me what it
was like.”
“What do you want me to say, Faith?” Buffy asked,
exasperated. She was still worried about Angel, he was doing better – much
better than that horrible night a week ago when she found him curled on the
floor, unresponsive. “That Angel was…he was…” Buffy stopped and tried to
catch her breath.
Was/is. He was and still is and how was she to explain it
to anyone, let alone Faith? Faith had never met Angel; she had no real basis for
comparison. But if she could ask, after so long, then why couldn’t anyone else
see?
“You loved him,” Faith said and this time there was
none of the cynicism in her voice that often coated her words on relationships.
On pretty much everything.
“Yes,” Buffy whispered.
“You still do,” Faith continued and there was a note of
wonder in her voice now.
“Yes,” Buffy agreed again, her voice still quiet. “I
think I always will.”
“What happened?” And it was genuine curiosity now, the
other slayer wanted to know what happened to Buffy; not to mock or jest, but
because Buffy was her friend and wasn’t that what friends did? She was pretty
sure, but this whole friendship thing was new to her. “Tell me,” she urged,
“Tell me why you fell in love with a vampire.”
“I didn’t know he was a vampire,” Buffy admitted.
“Not at first. I thought the tingle that I felt was because he was hot and I
was attracted to him. How was I supposed to know he was a vampire when he helped
me? Vamps aren’t supposed to help the slayer.”
Faith said nothing to the rueful comment, though she
agreed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this Angel, but it was unimportant.
He was gone, dead or something in that hell dimension – Willow and Xander took
a weird kind of perverse pleasure in telling her the details of that day and
Acathla. She was silent as she waited for Buffy to compose herself and continue.
“I fell for him before I knew that he was a vamp and then
afterwards, we tried to-tried to stay away from each other, but couldn’t.”
Buffy closed her eyes for a minute, remembering the difficulties of those
months. It was strange how they paralleled her life with Angel now. “But then
he had information about this prophecy, and it was all down hill from there.”
“You couldn’t stay away from him,” Faith said,
waiting. When Buffy said nothing more, she asked, “Why not?”
“Because it was harder to stay away than it was to care
that he was a vamp and I was the slayer.”
At Buffy’s straightforward tone, her matter of fact
statement, Faith paused. She was impressed, this was…interesting. And love.
Faith hadn’t ever had that in her life, not from anyone. It was a basic and
fundamental gift and yet she’d never experienced it. Buffy had and Faith was
extremely jealous…and saddened for her friend. If this was what love was like,
she wanted no parts of it.
It destroyed you, hollowed you out and made you less of a
person. But then, Faith thought as the pair wandered towards the warehouse
district, this was the aftermath. And the beforemath hadn’t been pretty at
all…or at least according to Willow, Cordelia, Xander, and that was where
she’d gotten all her information. Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they
didn’t understand. If Buffy could only explain it to Faith, maybe the other
slayer could understand.
Buffy swiped at her eyes and Faith turned away and
pretended to study some nearby bushed for suspicious activity, providing the
other slayer a moment to herself. Faith wasn’t good with emotions, not hers,
not other’s, but she understood something now that she hadn’t before. Buffy
still loved Angel and always would; maybe over time it’d dim, as Buffy aged
and moved on…if she did, being the slayer and all. But Angel would always hold
a place in her heart – a large place that couldn’t ever be taken by someone
else.
If he was still alive, maybe something could’ve been
worked out between them. Or maybe they would’ve grown apart naturally, as
people sometimes did. But since Angel was dead, or at least dead in the sense of
never returning to her, Buffy mourned his passing. She couldn’t move on.
Hoping that she gave her sister enough time to compose
herself – and not even thinking about what she’d do if she hadn’t, Faith
was so not good with the tears – Faith turned back to her. They continued
their walk in silence for a few more minutes, skipping the abandoned warehouses
to meander through well-known paths in cemeteries that had seen entirely too
much action. Buffy’s thoughts drifted, as always, to Angel and she wondered
how soon she could get away from Faith to see him.
She’d stopped by the mansion early this morning, but
couldn’t stay long before she had to get to school. No one said anything about
her recent absence and for that Buffy was grateful. Apparently, either she was
getting better at lying to them, something she readily believed, they knew she
was lying and just needed time to herself, or they really didn’t understand
anything about her. Whichever the reason, Buffy didn’t care. They didn’t
ask, she didn’t tell, and her secret was safe for another night.
“What do you think of Mrs. Post?” Faith asked in an
abrupt change of subject. “The,” and here her voice took on the snooty
English accent that the older woman had, “New watcher?”
“I think she’s got a British flag up her butt that’s
never coming out,” Buffy said without thinking. Faith burst out laughing and
Buffy blushed, but joined in.
“Way to go, B,” Faith laughed as they exited one
cemetery for another. “You don’t think that she’s gong to stay?” Or
worse, but Faith didn’t say this, take her away? She didn’t want to leave
Sunnydale, Home of the Hellmouth, didn’t want to leave the growing friendship
she had with Buffy. Didn’t want to be on her own again.
“Who cares?” Buffy asked and wondered where this
attitude came from. But she knew. It was partly Faith, and when the other girl
couldn’t behave in her usual arrogant way, when she was scared – as she
obviously was now – Buffy took over. The other part was that the fewer people
around who knew the situation, the better for all involved. Namely she and
Angel.
“She’s entirely too interested in this arm thingy to
care what you do,” Buffy pointed out, “And Giles hates listening to anyone
else about how to do his job. It’s a leftover from his bad boy rebellion days
at Oxford.”
“But can’t she, I don’t know, she’s a Watcher.
Can’t she separate us?” Faith asked as they rounded a tree-shadowed corner
of the cemetery. “Oh, hello, boys,” she said as they came across a quartet
of vamps…talking? Now that was new. What could they be talking about?
Without waiting to find out, Faith attacked. The first
punch to the startled pack of vamps – was it really a pack when there were
only four? – sent one flying into a headstone, cracking the memorial to Andrea
Thomas, Beloved Wife. Buffy quickly staked the vamp before her and rounded on
another one.
They really did work well together, Buffy thought as she
and Faith fed off each other’s moves, using their entire bodies to compliment
the other and stake the vamps before them. One had Faith cornered, his rather
large bulk and considerable strength pinning her to the ground, trying to mash
her face into the dirt. Pounding on the vamp before her, trying to get to Faith,
Buffy staked the man and then whirled to find her sister slayer.
Who was doing just fine on her own, it seemed, for she’d
managed to roll under the heavy vampire, facing him as she slipped her stake
between them and dusted him. Not a moment too soon, for his fangs were just
grazing her neck and a small well of blood appeared there. Reaching down, Buffy
gave Faith a hand up and dabbed at the wound on her neck.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” she said, absently wiping
the blood on her pants. “But it was close.”
“Heavy motherfucker,” Faith said as she scowled at the
blood on her own fingers.
“So it looked.”
“Bastard,” Faith grumbled, still fussing with the
closing wound on her neck. Looking around hopefully, she asked, “Think there
are any more? I need to pound on one, and this one,” she kicked the dust
mixing with the dirt and grass, “Isn’t going to work.”
Shrugging, they started off again, planning on finishing
their patrol and then heading to the Bronze. It’d become another part of their
nightly ritual. School – which Faith didn’t attend – then home, Faith
usually ate dinner with Buffy and Joyce, then a quick stop at Giles’, either
at the library or his condo. From there they hit all twelve cemeteries and both
parks, sometimes the warehouse district and the docks, Willy’s if they needed
information, then the Bronze.
It was routine, though they often changed their cemetery
patrol route in case the vamps and demons actually realized that the slayers had
a routine. Something to keep them on their toes. Usually Buffy would leave after
an hour at the Bronze, claiming homework, tiredness, or that she wanted to
patrol by the high school or someplace they hadn’t hit that night. Faith
stayed at the Bronze, drinking and screwing her latest find, sometimes heading
home alone after Buffy left, sometimes staying until the bouncer politely asked
her to leave.
“Where were we?” Buffy asked as they came upon a lone
vamp and she let Faith have him. She had anger management issues to work out.
“With the whole Mrs. Post thing?”
“Ignoring her,” Faith grunted as the vamp got in a
lucky shot to her belly. Damn this one was feisty. She liked them like that,
grabbed the long black hair of the woman, and pulled.
“Right,” Buffy nodded, glancing at her nails and
frowning. She so needed a manicure. “Maybe we can break her like we did
Giles,” she offered as Faith staked the vampiress. “He was all tweedy and
snobbish when I first met him.”
“How long did it take you to break him?” Faith asked as
she dusted the vamp dust from her hair.
“Hmmm,” Buffy thought as they finished their patrol and
headed for the Bronze. “I’d say a week. Maybe two, but every once in a while
he gets that ‘I’m the Englishman here and we created the world’ look on
his face.”
Faith snorted in laughter as they breezed into the club.
“I don’t think Post is going to be that easy.”
“Probably not,” Buffy agreed. “And why is she so
obsessed with the demon and arm-glove thingy?”
“No idea,” Faith shrugged as she grabbed her usual beer
from the bartender and handed him some cash – his boss was there, she had to
make it look good or she’d never get served no matter what or who she did. And
jail didn’t look good on her. “But it’s creepy.”
“Agreed.” And with that, they took their usual place on
the dance floor, letting the beat wash over them. Getting lost in the music and
trying – desperately – to forget their past, their problems, their future.
Buffy left after her usual hour, claiming tiredness and a
headache, and Faith wandered to the table where Oz and Willow sat. She wasn’t
overly friendly with them, but they were Buffy’s friends and she did have to
spend time with them whether she liked it or not. She was still unsure if she
liked it or not, but at least Oz was cool. In that I’ve got nothing much to
say and when I do, I’ll let you know, way.
“Hey,” she said and plopped herself down. No one had
caught her attention yet tonight, but she was willing to wait it out. If not,
then she’d dance. At least in dancing, she could try to forget…forget her
mom and her life before slaying. Forget the gruesome sight of her first watcher
being slaughtered before her eyes – Faith still had nightmares about that and
doubted they’d ever go away. Forget her bleak life before this new strength
fell into her lap.
“Faith,” Oz nodded and Willow waved happily. Whatever
Red was on, she seemed happy and willing to share it.
“Do you guys know what’s wrong with B?” Faith asked
as she knocked back her shot glass of vodka.
“Something’s the matter with Buffy?” Willow asked,
concerned as she sipped her soda. “She seemed fine this afternoon at
school.”
“I think,” Faith said slowly, wondering how to get more
information out of the couple without actually asking. “That
she’s…lonely.”
“She misses him,” Oz nodded.
“She does?” Willow asked and then frowned. “He so
doesn’t deserve her,” she scowled. “Not after the way he treated her at
the dance.” Oblivious to the confused looks of Oz and Faith, Willow stabbed
her straw into the settling ice. “Stupid Scott, what does he know anyway?”
Faith gaped at Buffy’s supposed best friend. Scott? That
little twerp? So not what she meant when she brought the subject up. Glancing at
Oz, she saw that Red’s boy knew it, too. She opened her mouth to correct her,
but Oz shook his head. Frowning, Faith let it go, but didn’t know why.
“Not Scott,” Oz said slowly, eyes darting briefly to
Faith. “I think Faith meant Angel.”
Willow frowned but said nothing. What was she supposed to
say? Angel was dead, or stuck in a hell dimension and never coming back. And
while the redheaded witch knew that Buffy loved the vampire with everything in
her, he was gone. It was time to move on. Willow thought that Scott was a good
first step. Obviously she’d been wrong, the boy had dumped Buffy for some
taller girl whose name Willow should’ve known. Willow was fairly certain that
they’d gone to school together since the fourth grade.
“Oh,” Willow shrugged and looked down at her cup.
Standing, Faith rolled her shoulders and prepared to head
back out to the dance floor. “Faith,” Oz called and she stopped, turned.
“What happened to your neck?” He looked concerned and made a motion to the
side of her neck where the vamp had gotten lucky.
“Lucky one tonight,” she winked it off. “But don’t
worry, I got him good.” So saying, she left the table and went to lose herself
in the music once more.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy raced up the hill and across bracken and roots that threatened to halt her
progress.
She could feel Angel the closer she got to him and wondered
why. Was it because she couldn’t live without him, because she loved him so
much? Or was it something more, something deeper? Or was it simply because she
wanted to, because she knew she was so close, almost there?
Racing through the doors, she was unsurprised to find him
waiting right there for her. He always was.
Jumping into his arms, she kissed him. It was wrong. It was
dangerous; they couldn’t do it, they couldn’t tempt fate this way. It
was…necessary. Pulling back, she flashed him a bright smile and waited. But
Angel didn’t push the issue, he released her, letting her slide down his body.
Buffy stifled a gasp at the feel of him against her, hard and ready for her. She
stepped away anyway.
“I missed you,” she said as he led them to the couch,
their normal resting place.
“I missed you, too,” he said and was pleased with
himself. The words were coming easier now, not a lot easier, but they were
there. Being around Buffy helped, it calmed him so he could think what he wanted
to say. When she was away he couldn’t always say what he wanted to, not that
he had anyone to say anything to.
Buffy beamed at him and set about telling him about her day
from the moment she left him to the moment she raced into his arms once more.
Angel listened, asked questions about things he didn’t understand or remember
– calculus was one of them, but so was Gwendolyn Post.
“She’s the new watcher,” Buffy said, feeling her eyes
close. She was so tired and leaning against Angel was so comfortable. “She’s
Faith’s new watcher. Strange woman, all about finding this glove hand thingy
that she says she doesn’t want some demon to get.”
“Glove-hand?” Angel asked, not knowing what the word
was.
“The Glove of Myhnegon,” Buffy elaborated, trying to
pronounce the word correctly. She knew how to say it, that wasn’t the point,
but who cared? “Someone named Lagos is looking for it, and this new watcher
claims that,” here her voice rose into the snooty English accent Faith
affected so well earlier. “No record of this glove’s full power exists, but
we do know it is highly dangerous and must not fall into the hands of a demon.
Lagos must be stopped.”
Buffy paused. “Isn’t Lagos a country in Africa?”
Angel looked at her and frowned. Something seemed familiar
about Lagos – the demon, not the country – but he couldn’t place what.
Buffy looked at him, watched his eyes take that unfocused look that they did
when he was trying to remember something. Suddenly, “I know where it is.”
“You do?” Buffy asked, surprised. “Where?” Then she
smiled. “If I can get the glove, then Annoying-Watcher can leave, and Faith
and I can go back to our routine. I really,” she mumbled, “Don’t like
her.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he said and stood to do just
that.
“Angel?” Buffy called as he stood, gently placing her
on the couch. “Now?”
“Now,” he repeated, gathering his socks and shoes,
slipping them on as he grabbed his coat form the entryway table.
“I’ll come with,” she said, worried for him. Not just
him, but anyone who could see him.
“I’ll…” he stopped, selecting his wording.
“I’ll be back soon. It will take a short time,” he fumbled for the words,
growling softly at his lack of ability. “I’ll be fast. Wait for me?”
“Yes,” Buffy nodded and watched him leave. She should
follow him, she thought, just in case. But she needed him to trust her, and if
she did that, if she followed him, then he’d know and that would break
whatever trust they’d managed to rebuild. So she settled onto the couch,
pulling a pillow under her head and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.
When Angel returned barely an hour later, Buffy was fast
asleep on the couch. Placing the Glove on the floor, still carefully wrapped in
the old cloth, he gently picked her up and headed for his bedroom. Setting her
on the bed, Angel debated an entire half a second before he slowly unwrapped the
blanket that was twisted around her. She sighed once, but didn’t waken.
Obviously exhausted, Buffy slept on as Angel removed her
shoes, socks, unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them from her body. Her shirt was
next, and harder, but he managed to slowly, carefully raise it over her head. He
took measured care with her, not wanting to wake her. This wasn’t how he
wanted it, but he was desperate. Deep within him clawed a need to join with her.
He couldn’t be without her, not anymore, and while every day they moved closer
and closer to what he wanted, needed, HAD TO HAVE, it wasn’t fast enough.
Panties and bra were next, and then she lay before him.
Perfection. Naked perfection. And all his.
His cool lips trailed over her body, as gentle as a
butterfly’s touch, no need to wake her. He was aching and hard and needed to
bury himself deep within her waiting heat. His tongue flicked over her core, the
scent drawing him closer, willing him to taste her. Abruptly pulling away when
she shifted in her sleep, Angel dared not risk her discovering his actions.
She wouldn’t let him continue no matter how she enjoyed
it. And she was definitely enjoying herself. Running his fingers over her clit,
he purred in delight at her sigh, a whisper of his name. Wasting no more time,
he entered her and Buffy automatically wrapped arms and legs about him, moving
with his slow rhythm.
Her eyes were barely opened, but he knew she knew who it
was, what was happening. They moved together, their movements speeding up as
Angel’s fingers again found her clit, teasing the nub. Buffy’s eyes flew
open but it was too late.
She screamed his name as her orgasm washed over her,
rippling through her body in wave after wave of such intense pleasure she
thought she’d passed out. Roaring her name, Angel burying his face in her
neck, fangs lengthening of their own accord to pierce her delicate skin. He took
only a few sips, her slayer blood exploding over his tongue just as his orgasm
exploded through him. Surprised, Buffy felt her body respond, felt another
orgasm rip through her at the feel of Angel’s fangs in her throat.
She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her.
What had she done?
“Buffy,” Angel purred, licking the puncture marks on
her neck. They weren’t deep and would close quickly. But they were a sign of his possession; any vamp who got close to her would
know that. She was his, his for all to see. The bite wasn’t a Mark, Angel knew
that even now, but he wanted to wait for that. He needed to explain everything
to her when he did – and he would
– Mark her. Now wasn’t the time, not when he couldn’t form all the words
he knew he’d need. “I love you.”
Buffy remained stiff and unmoving as Angel gathered her in
his arms, pillowing her head on his arm, nestling her back against his front. A
single tear leaked from her tightly closed eyes as the full weight of their
actions settled heavily on her shoulders. What had she done?
Angel slept behind her, as Buffy waited. She waited for
Angelus to return, for Angel’s sweet innocent soul to leave the body. To leave
her. She waited for the consequences of her actions to manifest themselves and
she waited for her lover to…leave her once again.
Buffy remembered where the chains were, the ones she
originally used to hold Angel when he came back. She used the time to plan out
different ways to get to them should Angelus return as she feared he would.
Through the front door, into the sunlight then back around the gardens as
quickly as she could to grab them. Maybe she could slip out now and get them,
just in case? Buffy moved, but Angel tightened his hold on her, murmuring her
name softly.
No, she couldn’t get them without him realizing it. A
soft sob escaped her lips and Buffy tried to halt the tears. God, what had she
done?
The stake Angel evidently found in the waistband of her
jeans lay on the floor by her side of the bed within easy reach and she’d
watched it throughout the night. It hadn’t moved, and neither had she.
She waited as the moon rose high in the sky, her bare light
illuminating their room. She waited, struggling to remain awake though she was
exhausted. Sated, loved, exhausted. She hadn’t been getting nearly enough
sleep lately, so concerned about Angel and keeping all the parts of her life
juggling nicely in the air.
She waited as the moon set, as the first rays of dawn
pinkened the sky. She waited when Angel finally stirred, and she wondered how
she’d survive it again. Killing her lover again.
She waited as Angel smiled against her shoulder, his lips
curving against her warm skin, sending shivers down her back. Arousal. Fear. She
waited as he rolled her over, mouth finding hers, tasting hers.
Nothing happened. Oh, something was, Angel was clearly
aroused, wanting to make love to her again. But…nothing happened. No Angelus,
no losing of the soul, no…what happened?
“Angel?” Buffy asked, wondering at the croak that was
her voice, as she worked up the courage to ask what needed to be asked. She’d
been so careful all this time, knowing the limits they could stretch, the line
they couldn’t cross. They’d pushed it, oh, they’d pushed it, but Buffy
couldn’t – wouldn’t let either of them – cross it. No matter how much
she wanted to.
“Morning,” he responded, mouth now trailing down to
suckle on her breast.
Gasping, Buffy held him closer for a moment before pulling
his head from her breast. “What happened?”
Confused, Angel stared at her for a moment. “We made
love,” he said in that slow and halting speech of his. “I love you, wanted
you.”
“But,” tears again pooled in her eyes, making them look
like liquid pools of jade. “I told you,” she nearly sobbed. “We
can’t!”
“Can,” he insisted. “Can because…you are mine.”
Maybe, Buffy thought as Angel removed her hands from his
face and resumed his position on her breast. Maybe it didn’t happen the first
time? Maybe…oh, God. Maybe she wasn’t his perfect happiness anymore? Was
that it? Was that what he’d been trying to tell her? That he could make love
to her because…because she wasn’t his perfect happiness anymore?
How pathetically sad that she cried because she hadn’t
lost her lover. But then what was the answer? What could be the answer?
“Buffy crying?” He asked, his lips tracing the path her
tears had made. “Don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “Won’t hurt you.”
“No?” Buffy wondered.
“Love you. Can’t hurt you. Mine,” he said again and
Buffy wondered just what he meant by that. “Buffy-” he broke off. “You are
mine,” he whispered, face set in hard lines as he concentrated on the words he
wanted to use. His eyes, however, conveyed nothing but love and trust. “We
belong,” he continued slowly, “Together. I love you, you love me. I
can’t…can’t leave. You. Can’t leave you,” he said, growling at the
words that wouldn’t come in the order he wished.
“Never leaving you.”
Kissing her softly, Angel tried to explain with his touch
what he meant. His body was gentle, hands caressing her flesh, arousing her
through her terror and grief. “Love you,” he whispered over and over again
and eventually Buffy believed him. He wasn’t Angelus; he wasn’t the evil
twin of her beautiful lover. He wasn’t going to lose his soul, and while Buffy
didn’t pretend to understand it, the whys and hows and why nots, she accepted
it.
Angel’s words convinced her, his gentle touch, his mouth
as he worshiped her. And deep, deep in her heart, where she harbored the last of
the fear over Angelus’ retuning, over Angel leaving, over so much of the
heartache and anguish of the past months, Buffy felt something. More
specifically, in that secret chamber within her heart that shadowed her fear,
she felt nothing. Angel was with her, he loved her, and he was showing her that
love.
He wasn’t leaving.
When he thrust into her this time, Buffy was ready for it,
anticipating it. She needed him, had always needed him. Moving with him, fully
conscious of her actions and his, Buffy let her lover show her what he’d been
trying to for the last several weeks.
He was here. He was back. Angel wasn’t ever leaving
again. And he loved her.
Just as the first rays of sunlight splashed over the
horizon, the indirect light bathing the room, Buffy climaxed, shouting Angel’s
name as she wrapped her body around his. “I love you,” she whispered.
Angel rolled them so Buffy was splayed over his chest,
holding her tightly to him. He didn’t want to let her go for fear that she’d
try to leave him. He wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but didn’t want her to, either.
“Love you,” he told her again, lest she forget. She hadn’t.
But just in case, Buffy stayed awake for a little while
longer, forcing her overtired body to wait…wait…wait. But it never came.
Angel remained peaceful underneath her, arms wrapped tightly around her body,
holding her close.
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