Edge
of Eternity
|
Author: Dark Star Websites: Dark Star's Portal Summary: Supposing Buffy
and Angel undertake a mission to another dimension… knowing that they can’t
come back? Disclaimer: Joss
Whedon is creator and owner of
all things Angel Timeline: The end of
Buffy’s Season 5, Angel's Season 2 Notes: There’s no threat
from Glory at the beginning of this story, and consequently no Dawn. Rating: NC 17. (Adult)
(If you’re interested, a PG 15 version of this story also exists.) ***************** Buffy Summers and Willow
Rosenberg arrived at the double doors leading into the library at Sunnydale
High. Before they could push them open, a thin man wearing a grey suit burst
through them, elbowed the girls out of the way, and hurried on down the
corridor. Frowning, Buffy said,
“Hello to you, too.” “So rude.” Willow
agreed. The girls entered the
library, Buffy still frowning after their encounter in the hallway. “Giles?” The librarian, clearly
agitated, emerged from his office. “Hello girls.” He tried
to appear nonchalant. “Free period?” “What’s going on?” Buffy
demanded immediately. Her whole body was screaming ‘Danger!’ to her, but she
didn’t understand why. “Nothing’s going on.”
Giles said awkwardly, and Buffy was instantly certain that he was lying. “If it’s something I
need to know about…” Buffy began, but Giles cut her off sharply. “It’s nothing at all.
Just a tiresome salesman.” He said briskly. “Now, I really have things to do,
so if you’ll excuse me…” Without another word,
Giles retreated back into his office and closed the door firmly. Stunned,
both girls looked at each other. “Well.” Willow ventured.
“That was strange.” “Yeah.” Buffy agreed. And really, really scary. The following day, Buffy
received and urgent phone call from Giles, asking her to meet him in the
library, but not giving her any details. Something was very wrong, she could
feel it; but she pushed her anxiety aside, and made her way apprehensively to
the school. Giles was not alone in
the library when she arrived, and somehow she wasn’t really surprised to find
pushy suit guy sitting at the table with him. This could not be good. Nor were the grave
expressions on both men’s faces. Oh crap. “Who died?” Buffy asked
softly. That was always a good bet, what with this being Sunnydale, and all. “Nothing like that.”
Giles assured her. “Come and sit down, Buffy.” Now this is getting downright scary. Silently, Buffy took a
seat opposite the two men and waited. Giles cleaned his glasses nervously,
mustering his thoughts. He cleared his throat, glanced conspiratorially at
Suit Guy, and began to talk. “Mr…ah… Jeeba came to
see me yesterday with a serious problem, and he needs our help.” He indicted
the visitor as he spoke, and Buffy glanced at him as Giles continued. “He’s
from another dimension.” “And?” She prompted,
apparently not impressed with the origin of the visitor, and instead
wondering what all this had to do with her. “I’m sure that you’re
aware of the concept that dimensions exist simultaneously with each other,
and that events in one can effect another?” Buffy considered this
and nodded silently. “Our visitor comes from
one of these co-existing dimensions. A spell was cast there that
malfunctioned; it’s causing a rift between the universes that will, if left
unchecked, tear a hole in the fabric of our own reality.” A chill went down
Buffy’s spine. “It can do that?” Giles didn’t reply but
his expression told her it was very serious, and that more was to come. “They
want you to go over there and neutralize it.” “Why me?” Buffy shot
back. “I’m not a witch. Why can’t they use their own mojo guys?” “They’re dead.” Jeeba said, speaking for the first
time. “The spell killed them.” “Someone else then.”
Buffy tried. “There is no one else,”
he replied. “Look” Buffy said. “I
appreciate that you think I can help, but I have the Hellmouth to look after.
I can’t go with you.” “You must.” Jeeba stressed.
“The dimensions are already breaking down. If you won’t help, then your world
is in as much danger as mine.” “But why me?” Buffy said
again. “The spell is strong,
and must be closed by a supernatural being. There are none available on my
world.” Buffy looked helplessly
at Giles, who seemed to be having difficulty in returning her look. Somehow
that worried her more than anything else. “Okay. So, say I go with
you… turn off the evil-tap-thingy… then what? Back home for dinner?” “There is no back home,”
Jeeba chillingly replied. “It’s a suicide
mission?” Buffy whispered. “Oh, no,” Jeeba said
hastily. “If all goes well, you will survive. But in order to travel through
the portal, your body has to be altered so that you can survive in the new
world. It cannot be changed back.” “I can’t help you.”
Buffy said abruptly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” “You must…” Jeeba began,
but Giles cut him off. “That’s enough. I think Buffy
has enough to process right now.” He held out his hand to the visitor,
effectively dismissing him. “I’ll contact you later.” Jeeba reluctantly
retreated from the library, leaving behind a subdued Watcher, and a
frustrated Slayer. When he had gone, Buffy glared at Giles. “Nothing but a salesman,
huh?” “I’m sorry, Buffy. I
just wanted to be sure.” “And now you are?” “I’m afraid so.” Giles
took off his glasses and cleaned them again with a cloth. “I’ve researched as
much of his story as I can. I’ve conferred with The Watchers Council,
Mystical organisations, and as many official bodies that I can think of. It
all pans out, Buffy. I’m sorry.” “You’re sorry! “ Buffy retorted, her voice
rising by a couple of octaves. “I can’t go, Giles. I’m the Slayer. I have to
be here. Who’s going to defend The Hellmouth?” “Faith.” Giles replied
uneasily. “What?” Giles fidgeted slightly,
and explained, “The Council are arranging to have Faith released from prison.
They have decided that you must undertake this mission as your last duty to
this world.” “I…” Buffy collapsed
heavily into the chair, defeated. When she spoke, her voice had a little girl
quality to it. “I don’t want to go, Giles.” “I know,” Giles replied
with compassion. “And I wish that you didn’t have to. But this is serious
Buffy. If the spell isn’t neutralized, everything we know will be destroyed.” “Great.” Buffy said
sullenly. “Why can’t Faith go? She doesn’t have all that many friends or ties
here. She won’t care about going somewhere new.” “When you died Buffy,
you passed the… baton… on to Faith. Officially, she is the current Slayer.
Only she can continue the Slayer line.” “And if she goes, this
world gets no more Slayers.” Buffy finished. She shifted uncomfortably.
“Giles, Jeeves said that when I go through the portal, I would be changed.
Will I… you know… grow a second head, or something?” “I’m assured that any
changes are internal,” Giles confirmed. “They consist of altering your body
to cope with such things as atmospheric and gravitational differences.” “I’m scared.” She
admitted. “The thought of leaving everything and everyone behind…” “There is something
Jeeba didn’t tell you.” Giles said quietly, and Buffy looked up expectantly. “You can take as many
provisions as you can carry – though be aware that certain things won’t
endure the journey through the portal – and if you wish to take a companion,
it can be arranged.” “A companion?” “Buffy, our visitor is
well aware that he is asking for a huge commitment from you.” Giles said
sympathetically. “They want to make the transition as easy as possible for
you. If you wish to take a travel companion, it is allowed.” Buffy gazed at him;
feeling overwhelmed by yet more information. Did she want some company, and
if so, who? Would any of her friends want to go through all that, and should
she even ask them? This was her gig, after all. She couldn’t put this burden
on the others, could she? Giles watched the
conflicting emotions play out on her face, before saying gently, “Take a
little time over this, Buffy. You don’t need to decide right away, and I
expect you have a lot of things to take care of. Go home and we’ll sort
things out later.” *** “Angel?” Giles
exclaimed. “Are you sure about this?” “Yes.” Buffy said
defiantly. “If he’ll come, I want Angel.” “Are you certain this is a good idea?”
Giles said, worriedly. “Your history with Angel has been… chequered, to say
the least…” “It has to be Angel.” Buffy
shrugged. “Maybe I’m selfish but I really don’t want to spend the rest of my
life alone.” “Have you really thought
about this, Buffy?” Buffy smiled sadly. “I
don’t even know if Angel will agree to come with me, Giles. I’m hoping he
will, but…” she broke off, a painful memory clouding her face. “…I don’t want
to live in a world that doesn’t have him in it. I tried it once, and frankly…
it sucked.” Giles stared at her;
he’d always thought that her love for Angel had waned a little over the
years, but seeing the pain on her face he now realised what an erroneous
assumption that was. “But still…” he said,
choosing his words very carefully. “Perhaps another person would be better?” “Like who?” Buffy
snorted. “I can’t ask anyone else, Giles! Who else would give up everything
to come with me? Who else would be willing to give up their whole world for
this?” Giles watched her
agitated pacing across his room and said softly, “I would.” Buffy stopped her pacing
abruptly and stared at him. “I couldn’t ask you to
do that.” “But I would go with you, Buffy.” He smiled
slightly. “I realise I don’t have Angel’s… attributes… but if he isn’t
available, the offer still stands.” Buffy moved toward him,
her eyes glistening as she looked up at him. “You’re a good man,
Giles. But I can’t ask you to forfeit your life here.” “I’m your Watcher.”
Giles said, seriously. “My place is with you.” He shifted uncomfortably, and
went on, “And since I’ve known you, seen the trials you’ve had to face, it
would be an honour to accompany you.” “Thank you.” Buffy said,
emotion making her voice ragged. Giles swallowed, before turning away to busy
himself with his stack of paperwork. He took several minutes to compose
himself and then said, “Would you like to call Angel from here?” Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god… “No time like the
present,” she said brightly. What the
hell am I going to say to him? What if he’s not there? What if he won’t come?
Oh god, oh god, oh god… “Would you like some privacy
for this?” the Watcher said kindly. Buffy nodded mutely, unable to trust her
voice, and Giles gathered up his papers and retreated out into the garden. After Giles’s polite
exit, Buffy sat staring at the phone for what felt like hours, trying to summon
the courage to call Los Angeles. Eventually, feeling very much like somebody
heading for the gallows, she took a deep breath and picked up the phone. Buffy’s hands shook as
she dialled Angel’s number, wondering how on Earth she was going to explain
this to him. She heard the phone ring, and ring, and the thought occurred
that he might not be there, when the receiver was picked up and she heard his
familiar voice. “Hello?” “Angel…” Was all she
could manage before her voice dried up. “Buffy?” She could hear
the concern in his voice, and he added “Is anything wrong?” “Everything.” She exclaimed with feeling. “Angel, I’ve got this mission…” Angel listened silently
as Buffy told him what she had to do, and she finished with, “I don’t know
what the portal will do to us, or even if we’ll ever be the same again. It’s
going to be real dangerous, Angel. I know it’s a big thing to ask you, and
I’ll understand if you don’t want to come or if you have too many obligations
there in LA…” “Buffy…” Angel began,
but Buffy interrupted him. “Before you answer, I
just wanted to be certain that you understand that this trip is one way,
Angel. We go in, we don’t come out.” There was silence on the
other end of the phone, and Buffy held her breath while she waited for
Angel’s reply. Finally, he just said, “Do you need me?” Buffy hesitated, knowing
her answer would influence him. “Yes,” she said, simply. “Then I’m on my way.” Following his phone conversation
with Buffy, Angel had a manic couple of hours preparing for his trip. In
truth, it hadn’t been that hard a decision. He couldn’t allow Buffy to face
such an uncertain future alone, and he wouldn’t have been able to rest, not
knowing what had happened to her. He didn’t really have
much to pack, just some clothes and other personal items. He selected his
favourite broadsword and axe, some smaller weapons, and on a whim, picked a
couple of favourite books and packed those too. Wesley had been very
‘British’ and very efficient, liasing with Giles over supplies and rushing
about purchasing camping equipment. Cordelia was another matter, because he
had grown genuinely fond of her. She had insisted on hugging him when he left
for Sunnydale, and that had meant a lot to him, given the recent events that
had transpired between them. It was with some regret
that he was forced to leave without saying goodbye to Lorne or Gunn, but he
had no doubt that Angel Investigations would continue efficiently without
him. They had, after all, been managing it in his absence, and that knowledge
only strengthened his decision to go. Wesley travelled with
him to Sunnydale, partly because he wanted to assist Giles, and partly to
bring Angel’s car back to LA. No attempt was made at conversation; Wesley had
not forgiven Angel for abandoning them and Angel’s thoughts centred on the
coming mission, the crew he’d left behind, and being with Buffy again. Would
things go any better this time round? The lights were on in Giles’s
apartment when they arrived, and Giles let them in to a scene of bustling
activity. Buffy and Willow were seated on the ground, surrounded by camping
supplies, and attempting to load as much into Buffy’s pack as possible. Both girls looked up as
the visitors arrived, and greetings abounded, except for the fact that Angel
had apparently been struck dumb at the sight of Buffy. “Angel…” Buffy’s version
of his name always sounded like a caress, and when he found his voice his
reply was just as reverent in its tone. “Buffy.” “Yes… well…” Giles
cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling absurdly like a voyeur. “…It’s good
that you’re both here. There’s a lot to arrange.” Buffy smiled slightly.
There couldn’t really be that much left to do, but she knew that Giles felt
better for fussing over her. She was really going to miss him. Angel saw the sadness
shadow across her face, and he went over to her. “Are you okay?” he asked
softly. “I guess.” She replied
uncertainly. She stood up, brushing the creases from her skirt, and nodded
her head towards the garden. Angel nodded, and followed her outside. Buffy
breathed in the cool night air, a welcome change after the stuffiness inside
Giles’s apartment. “Are you all right with this mission, Angel? If you want
to back out, I won’t think any less of you.” “I’m good,” he assured
her. “What about you? Are you ready for this?” “I don’t have much
choice, do I?” she replied ruefully. She seated herself at the table,
watching Angel as he sat next to her. “I’m… okay now, but tomorrow…” her
words trailed off sadly as she thought about the next day. Angel’s hand found
hers across the table, and she smiled as the simple gesture bought her some
comfort. They sat silently together for a while, both lost in thoughts of the
following day. “Angel… I’ve been
wondering about us.” Buffy said slowly. “Us?” “Yeah. Our history has
been… difficult at times. Will we be able to make things work over there?” Angel’s immediate
instinct was to say no, that their relationship was going to cause them huge
problems. But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She was anxious about
leaving her friends behind, and apprehensive about going into the unknown.
She needed his support, not his concern. “We’ll make this work,
Buffy.” He promised her, gently squeezing her hand. “It’s not going to go
smoothly, is it?” “No.” He agreed. She
might want his support, but he wasn’t going to lie to her. “But that’s life
for you. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.” There was a movement
from the house, and Giles stepped into the garden. He came to stand in front
of Angel, and said matter-of-factly, “You and Wesley are welcome to stay with
me tonight.” Angel swallowed,
intensely touched by the Watchers’ gesture, given their unfortunate past.
“Thank you.” “It might be an idea to
get some sleep.” Giles suggested. “It’s likely to be a big day, tomorrow;
you’ll need to prepare.” “That’s an
understatement.” Buffy murmured. “How the hell do you prepare yourself for
living in another dimension?” She said it lightly
enough, but Angel heard the tremor in her voice, and tightened his grip on
her hand. “You leave at dusk
tomorrow.” Giles informed them. “Wesley and I should have everything arranged
by then.” “Only a few hours to see
the world.” Buffy muttered, standing up, and gazed wide-eyed up at Angel.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel. Sleep well.” “You too, Buffy,” he
replied, but she was already on her way back into the apartment to say
goodnight to the others. For Buffy, the last few
hours were surreal; she managed to get a few hours sleep, but there was so
much to do, and she was up early, going through the house to make sure she
had everything. Angel rang and told her he had some spare room in his pack,
and she was welcome to make use of it if she wanted; he probably regretted
his offer later when she loaded up every available space in both packs with
clothes, toiletries and equipment. Xander and Willow spent
most of the day with her, helping when they could; but, in the back of all
their minds was the knowledge that this was the last day that they would ever
spend together. The atmosphere in
Giles’s apartment was charged with expectation when Buffy and her friends
arrived. Giles and Wesley were in their element with all the organising that
had to be done. Angel was quietly cleaning his weapons before carefully
stashing them into their protective carriers for the journey. Wordlessly, Buffy
gravitated toward Angel. He looked up from his task, and saw the unspoken
fear in her eyes. He took her hand, and said, “It will be all right, Buffy. You’ll see.” Buffy nodded, unable to
trust her voice, and her emotions hovering very close to the surface. Angel
gave her a small smile of encouragement, and she drifted away to hear Giles’s
final briefing and spend the last moments with her friends. Angel hung back
as Buffy said a tearful goodbye to Willow and Xander, and his own parting
from Wesley was no less difficult. Giles drove them as
close to the tunnels as he could, and Buffy and Angel gathered up all their
equipment from the car. Angel and Giles shook hands, and Angel tried not to
notice Buffy’s emotional farewell with her Watcher; but the intense emotion
in the air still brought a lump to his throat. The Slayer gathered up
her share of the heavy equipment, taking a moment to adjust her stance into a
confident pose. She led Angel into the cold tunnel, without another glance at
her Watcher and friend, or the world they would never see again. The tunnel led
downwards, torches lighting the way through the meandering darkness. Buffy
had regained control of her emotions, but she was tense and edgy. Her mind
was in a whirl; if they survived the journey through the portal, nothing
would ever be the same. They would be different people, changed in some way,
and she would never see her friends or Sunnydale again. They became aware of a
crackling sound ahead of them, and they snapped off the torches and stashed
them away, because the whole cavern was now awash with light. An ancient and ornate
archway greeted them; inside the arch a shimmering syrup glittered and
twitched. Buffy had the fanciful notion that it was angry, and that was why
it moved with such vehemence. But it was the sound that overwhelmed them, a
forlorn howling moan, deafening in the confined area. “Oh, shit,” Buffy
murmured. She exchanged a wary
look with Angel, took a deep breath, and together they stepped up to stand
before the Gateway. Buffy stared at the swirling
maelstrom in awe. And fear. She knew that once they went in, there was no
coming back. “Here we stand,” she
said softly. “On the edge of…” “Forever?” Angel
suggested when she faltered. “Sounds like a Star Trek
episode.” Buffy grimaced. “What’s another word for forever?” “Always.” Angel replied
promptly, automatically searching for more. ”Infinity. Eternity. Etern…” “Eternity.” Buffy
repeated. “I like that. ‘Standing on the Edge of Eternity’.” She grinned at
Angel. “Classy, huh? Real literary.” “I didn’t know you had a
yearning to be a writer.” Angel teased, staring quizzically at her. “Oh, yes,” she replied
enthusiastically. “I’m gonna write ‘How To Kill Things and Influence People.
Should be a best seller.” “Without doubt.” Angel agreed. Buffy fell silent, well
aware that she was babbling because she was afraid to make the next move. “We really have to do
this, don’t we?” she asked rhetorically. She took a deep breath,
her hand instinctively searching for Angel’s. He took it, gripping her hand a
little tighter than was really necessary, and for the first time Buffy
realised that he was scared too. Somehow it made her feel a little better. “On the count of three,
okay?” she smiled at him. Angel smiled back, and on the count of two, they
jumped. It was like jumping into
a bath of cold water; they slammed against a wall of ice that took Buffy’s
breath away. Her body felt tight, as though it was being squashed and
stretched, drawn out. She was aware that she was screaming, and every part of
her hurt…god, it hurt…and she was pulled toward a tiny speck of nothing. Then
she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except feel the
agonizing pain that squeezed her through nothing and coughed her out the
other side. She landed heavily on
her hands and knees, realising that she was free, but wondering why the
screaming hadn’t stopped…she knew it wasn’t coming from her. Realisation
dawned, and her eyes snapped open as she frantically searched for Angel. He was on his hands and
knees next to her, his fingers cramping as though searching for purchase. But
he was screaming, completely lost in the pain that had torn her apart. “Angel,” she cried,
slithering to his side. “Oh, god, Angel…” She wrapped her arms
round him, feeling helpless but not knowing what else to do. He didn’t react
to her, and she wasn’t certain that he even knew she was there. Abruptly, the
screaming stopped and he collapsed. Buffy wriggled so that his head was
pillowed in her lap, and she carefully stroked his brow - alarmed by the heat
radiating from his body, and the tremors that shook his frame. “Don’t die,” she begged
him. “Please, please, don’t die.” She hugged him close to
her, silently repeating her plea over and over, like a mantra. The thought of
Angel leaving her alone filled her with terror. She waited for his body to
stop shaking, gently rocking to soothe him, and finally took time to look
around at the new surroundings. The portal had deposited
them in a grassy clearing. Three sides banked the clearing with trees and
bushes, and the fourth side opened out onto fields. Across the fields stood a
white tower, and Buffy guessed that was where they had to go. She returned her
attention to Angel. He was lying very still, and on a sudden impulse, Buffy
reached across him and placed her hand against his chest. All that pain,
maybe… but there was no heartbeat, and Buffy felt foolish for thinking that
it might have made him human again. He didn’t seem to have a tail either, and
she gently rubbed her fingers in his hair. “What are you doing?”
Angel croaked. “Looking for horns,” she
admitted sheepishly. “Oh.” He opened his
eyes. “Find any?” “No.” She replied. “How
do you feel?” “Like crap.” He
admitted. “You?” “The same.” She agreed
as they unsteadily helped each other to their feet. “Do I look okay, no tail
or anything?” Angel cast a quick
glance over her. “Fine,” he confirmed.
“Apart from the green hair.” “What?” she
shrieked, her hand flying to her hair where she pulled it forward to reveal
blonde tresses. “That wasn’t funny,
Angel,” she glared at him. “Sorry.” He replied
distractedly, staring across the fields. “That our destination?” “I guess.” Buffy
shrugged. “They said they’d put us down at the nearest point.” “Do you want to rest
before we go up there?” Buffy shook her head.
“Let’s get it done.” Much of the long walk to
the tower was conducted in silence, as Buffy and Angel tried to take in their
new surroundings. Occasionally they stopped to examine a strange creature or
an unusual plant, and to Buffy, the whole thing felt surreal. She couldn’t
shake the feeling that at any moment a white rabbit would trot across their
path and announce that it was late. On one occasion they
found a large clutch of eggs, and Angel leant over for a better look. Buffy
shivered; she had the horrible feeling that something nasty would burst out
of one of the eggs and attach itself to his face. Been watching too many films, She told herself when the eggs were
revealed as nothing more sinister than belonging to a frightened orange-brown
lizard that scuttled away on seeing them. As the tower loomed
above them, Buffy and Angel could already feel the distorted pull of the
reality shift. The air was charged with electricity, and quickly they shed
their packs and weapons and stashed them safely. They were going to need full
mobility for this, and the packs would just slow them down. Carefully
removing the binding powder and chalks for marking the symbols, they skirted
the building, and drew the symbols that would contain the energy inside the
protective circle. When it was done, they entered the massive building and
made for the stairs. Buffy reached them first
and bounded up; adrenalin had restored her energy levels, and she was psyched
for action. Angel followed close behind her, a strange sound setting his
teeth on edge. “Can you hear that?” he
asked. Buffy stopped her ascent
and listened. A buzz was coming from up ahead, as though a swarm of bees
was lying in wait round the bend for them. It was not a comforting thought. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Buffy shuddered. The sound was making her ears tingle and her skin prickle.
She took a calming breath and rounded the bend. The sound of buzzing trebled,
increasing her discomfort dramatically. She tried to ignore it, and focus
properly on the anomaly. It was a mistake. The sudden onslaught of shifting
and conflicting sensory experiences interfered spectacularly with her body’s
perceptions of the world around it. Her mind absorbed all the information but
didn’t know how to process it, and rebelled accordingly. Buffy dropped to her
knees and retched, felled by a wave of staggering dizziness brought on by
severe sensory overload. Angel circled round her,
ignoring his instinct to check on her. If this rift wasn’t closed soon,
they’d both be in dire trouble. His own body was protesting at the nearness
of the reality shift, but not as drastically as Buffy’s had done, and he was
still able to function. Shaking the powder just
ahead of the expanding rift and shouting the words that he had carefully
memorized, Angel commanded the abomination to cease its creeping advance. A
ragged finger of reality flashed forward, catching Angel in its tendril, and
hurled him backwards. Buffy was groggily
pulling herself to her feet, and muttered, “I guess it didn’t like that.” “Guess not.” Angel
agreed, rolling to his feet. “You okay?” “I’ll let you know when
my head stops spinning.” Angel shook out another
handful of the binding powder and began the chant all over again. Buffy
staggered to the other side of the reality split and mirrored his actions.
She waited for the angry fly-swat that never materialized. A pair of reality
flashes jerked toward them, but weaker, as though it couldn’t decide which of
them to go after. The creeping menace was
slowing down, and finally stopped just inches from their feet. The chanting
went on, becoming a comforting drone over the buzz of the nauseous danger.
Buffy had regained control of herself after the initial traumatic beginning,
and was now chanting strongly by Angel’s side. The rift was shrinking,
recoiling slowly back on itself, until finally, the thing disappeared
completely with a loud wet slurp.
The silence was staggering after the awful din, and Buffy was almost afraid
to make a sound. For a long time they
stood gazing at the place where the rift had vanished, half-expecting it to
reappear at any moment. Finally Buffy said, “Is that it?” “Looks like it,” Angel
replied, his voice sounding gravely with the strain of maintaining the spell. For a long moment, their
eyes caught and the same thought travelled between them. What the hell do we do now? Buffy went back to the
stairs and slowly descended to ground level. She hesitated, not knowing where
to go, and sat herself down on the rough steps. She could hear Angel coming
down the steps behind her, and he sat down next to her. “What do we do now?” she
asked him. “We can stay here
tonight, but tomorrow we’ll need to figure out how to survive here, and where
we want to go.” “I want to go
home.” Buffy muttered sadly. Angel’s arm found its
way to her shoulders, where he let his fingers rub her arm comfortingly. “Our home is here, now.”
He told her deliberately. “It feels strange to us, because we don’t
understand the rules. It won’t always be that way, and we have each other.
We’ll sort something out.” “We don’t really have a
choice, do we?” she asked, snuggling closer to Angel’s body and resting her
head against his shoulder. Angel didn’t answer, and
Buffy didn’t expect him to. She felt drained; the fight had taken a lot out
of her, but she felt lost, as though she had been cast adrift. She supposed
that she ought to be excited; they had a whole new world to explore, after
all. Instead, they sat
huddled together on the steps for most of the afternoon, until it became
apparent that it would be dark soon. Buffy went outside to fetch their packs
and bring them inside, while Angel hunted round for as many lanterns as he
could find. Buffy wanted to stay on
the lower levels, perhaps because she feared the reality shift would come
back, and the lanterns provided them with beautifully soft illumination. They
unrolled their sleeping bags and laid them side-by-side, seeking comfort and
companionship from each other as they spent the first night wrapped together
in a restless and uncomfortable daze. Buffy woke very early,
to find that Angel was already awake and observing her. It was comforting to
know that he was watching over her, and she realised that since night would
be ‘his’ time, it wasn’t surprising that he was still alert. She didn’t want
to talk, and instead she wriggled closer and buried her face against his
chest, allowing him to reassure her with tender kisses against her hair. They spent the next day
planning what they were going to do. The view from the top of the tower was
impressive, and allowed them to see for miles. A river ran alongside the base
of the tower, leading off into places new, and they decided to use it as a
guide. For want of a better plan, they would follow the course of the river,
and see where it took them. Since they had no idea what was ahead of them, or
where they wanted to go, it didn’t really matter in which direction they
went. Because Angel couldn’t
travel by day, most of the journey would have to be undertaken at night. They
would need time to make camp and allow enough leeway before dawn for Angel to
hunt; and, since he only needed the blood, he offered to cook the meat for
Buffy while she slept. Once night fell, they
gathered up all their belongings, and prepared for the journey. They decided
to take some of the lanterns, carefully wrapping them up for safety, but
since they had no idea where to find fuel for them, they chose not to use
them while walking, opting instead to save them for use in the base camp. At first, they attempted
to keep up a flow of chatter in an attempt to keep their spirits up. Not
surprisingly, Angel was the first to abandon small talk and Buffy fell silent
a while after. They noticed a few small animals, the size of rodents,
sniffling on the edge of the riverbank, and here and there something larger
rustled in the leaves or shuffled out of their way. Buffy tripped over an
animal carcass in the darkness, and grimaced in disgust when she looked down
to see what she’d fallen over. “Euw.” She squealed. Angel looked over her
shoulder to see what was wrong, and saw that the animal remains were infested
with a seething mass of maggots. “You don’t like
maggots?” he asked curiously. “No.” She said sharply.
“I’m strange, okay? They just give me the wiggins.” Angel took her hand and
led her away from the offending body. He decided he didn’t understand her at
all. He had seen her face an abundance of monsters and demons without a
second’s thought…but maggots freaked
her out? Buffy chose a grassy
verge to put up the tents and they began the chore of erecting them,
side-by-side. Finally, it was done, and Buffy realised how tired she really
was. She gave Angel a peck on the cheek, and retired to bed. Sleep refused to come.
So much had happened in so little time, and a great deal had changed. The
floor was hard and uncomfortable to sleep on; she lay there for a long time
listening to the insects in the long grass by the river, and to Angel moving
about and preparing to go hunting. She heard him leave, and
she suddenly felt very lonely. Perhaps she should have gone with him, but she
knew that he was still a little uncomfortable feeding in front of her, and
she figured he probably needed a little alone time. In spite of the fact that
she knew she could look after herself, she was still very relieved when she
heard Angel return from the hunt, and reassured, she drifted into a fitful
sleep. She was abruptly torn
from her troubled sleep by all hell breaking loose. Instinctively alert as a
loud growling rent the air, she was on her feet and out of the tent in
seconds. The sight that met her momentarily stopped her in her tracks. A huge ball of white
fluff that could only be described as a Yeti, had shredded the fabric of
Angel’s tent and was attempting to haul him bodily outside. The beast had him
in a tight bear hug or rather, a Yeti-hug, and holding him so close that
Angel was unable to move enough to dislodge it. “Hey!” Buffy shouted,
and when it half turned toward her, she added chidingly, “You should really
wait to be introduced before you start with the smoochies!” Moving rapidly forward, she high-kicked
the Yeti in the back of the neck, making it growl angrily. Angel cried out as the
Yeti’s grip tightened round his chest, and Buffy kicked the Yeti hard in the
ribs. It roared in pain, releasing its grip on Angel just enough for him to
get a firm grip round the neck and twist it. A sickening crunch filled the air, and the Yeti toppled over, dragging the
remains of the tent with it. Angel crumpled as well,
dropping to his knees as pain seared his ribs. Buffy stretched out a hand to
help him up, and he let her pull him to his feet. “Angel?” “Smoochies?” he
questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Looked like you were
pretty close to me.” Buffy grinned at him. He grimaced, and Buffy wasn’t
sure if it was from pain or her joke. She took in his tousled appearance and
her grin got wider. Angel normally looked pretty well groomed, but right now
he looked a mess. His hair was in tangled disarray; he had a grubby line
across his cheek, and his clothes were bloody, crumpled and torn. “Rough night, Angel?” “Yeah.” He replied,
completely missing her joke. “I wasn’t… expecting company, and I think I must
have dozed off. The next thing I remember, I was getting acquainted with my
dinner date.” “Got caught napping,
huh?” she said sympathetically. She scanned him for injuries, lifting his
shredded sweater to get a better look. There was a lot of blood, but it
looked pretty shallow. “Want me to dress these?” “No, they’re just
scratches, they’ll be gone by the morning.” “Okay,” she said softly.
A large part of Angel’s chest was undamaged, and she found that she couldn’t
tear her eyes from him. She had an overpowering urge to kiss the smooth skin,
and lay her head against him for comfort. Swallowing, she forced herself to
recover his chest with the remnants of his sweater, and looked up to meet his
eyes. He was watching her with an expression somewhere between amusement and
smugness, and she found herself wondering if he could read her thoughts. She jerked away from him
awkwardly, and focussed on the tent instead. “You’re not going to get
much sleep in there,” she told him. “You’d better sleep with me instead.” She blushed when she
realised what she’d said. “I meant… ah… not…” Angel took pity on her
at that point and said, “I get it, Buffy. It looks like we’re going to have
to share now.” “Yeah,” she said
brightly. “But that’s okay, right? We can be grown up about this, can’t we?” “Of course we can,” he
agreed, bending down to heave the Yeti out of the tent. Keep saying it and I might actually believe it...
Buffy went to help him,
and they carried the uninvited visitor back into the woods. Angel inspected
the tent, but it was beyond repair. He suggested they saved what parts of it
that were any good, in case the surviving tent needed repairs at any time;
then they could patch it up to be as good as new. He also reasoned that if
they had stopped to build a fire, the beast might not have attacked them, and
since it was fairly cold anyway, it would have been better for Buffy. Buffy washed the blood
off of Angel while they talked, but he was right. She had been very cold, and
the extra security of the fire would have been comforting. Most of Angel’s wounds
had already healed themselves, and when he was feeling better, they stashed
the second sleeping bag in the tent, and he settled down to sleep. It was
nearly dawn, and Buffy decided to stay up. She didn’t want to admit that
Angel’s closeness was making her think some highly inappropriate thoughts. That night, after
packing up the temporary base camp, they resumed the task of following the
river as it wound its way through fields and trees, and eventually they found
a place to make camp along its fertile banks. The night was pretty cool, and
all the while they had been moving, and setting up base, Buffy had been warm.
The chill air made her shiver, and she was looking forward to the heat from
the campfire that Angel was building. As the flames licked upwards, Angel
looked up and saw her shiver as she reached toward the fire. “Cold?” he asked. “Freezing,” she
admitted. Angel moved toward her,
stripping off his duster, and draped it round her shoulders, his hands
lingering for longer than was really necessary. Buffy was just about to
refuse his gallantry but remembered that he didn’t feel the cold and she
probably needed the coat’s warmth more than he did. “Thank you.” “No problem,” he
replied. “Buffy, I’m going to see if I can find some food. Will you be okay
here?” Buffy began to get up to
help, but Angel motioned that she stay. “I can handle it,” he
told her, and she sank back, secretly pleased. She felt exhausted and knew
that she should really be getting in the tent to sleep. But in truth, she didn’t
want to leave the heat of the fire, or its comforting glow behind. She pulled
Angel’s duster tighter, and that was comforting too, because it held his
scent and she could pretend that she was cocooned in his arms. Buffy
stretched out on her side, pulling up her legs into the warmth of Angel’s
coat and laid her head on the bedroll. As she listened to Angel’s retreat
into the trees, and the crackle of the open fire, her eyes slowly shut, and
she allowed sleep to claim her. She awoke to a wonderful
smell; her stomach growled in protest and she realised how hungry she was.
She opened her eyes, it was still dark and she could just make out Angel
sitting cross-legged next to the fire. “Hey,” he smiled at her. “Hey yourself,” she
replied, studying his handiwork. He’d been busy in the night, because he’d
rigged the frame up over the fire, from which something – a four-legged dead
something – slowly roasted. “Hungry?” he asked. “Starved,” she
confirmed, struggling to sit up despite the protests from her aching limbs.
“What is it?” “Haven’t a clue,” he
shrugged. “It tasted okay, though.” He held up the skin that had covered it,
and Buffy thought that it had looked a little like a striped rabbit. “It’ll be ready soon.” Angel
gestured at the night sky. “But you’ll probably have to help yourself. It’s
almost dawn.” Buffy pulled the coat
round herself and watched as Angel poured out two coffees and brought one
round to her. “Thank you,” she said,
accepting the coffee, and adding seriously. “I don’t deserve you.” Angel crouched down
beside her, some emotion she couldn’t identify crossing his face. He leant
forward and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I’d say it was the
other way round.” Buffy was suddenly very
aware of Angel’s closeness, and she found that she was holding her breath.
Angel hadn’t pulled back after kissing her hair and his face was just inches
from hers. He was looking wistfully at her lips, and more than anything at
that moment she wanted him to kiss her. Slowly, painfully slowly, his lips
inched to hers, and the touch, when it came, made her stomach tighten and
lurch in a reaction that had nothing to do with food. Buffy’s tongue flicked
out, almost of its own volition, and touched against Angel’s lips. He
hesitated for a brief moment and then allowed her access. His mouth was cool
and soft, and Buffy wanted to explore his hidden depths. Angel gently
responded to her, following her lead, and allowing her to set the pace. The kiss ended, and
Angel leant forward so that his forehead was pressed against hers, unwilling
to give up contact with her so soon. “It’s almost dawn,”
Buffy whispered, dreading that he would leave her. “I know.” Angel replied
equally quietly, but making no move to get under cover. Eventually, Angel
reluctantly released her and stood up. As he gathered up his coffee and
retreated to the safety of the tent, he asked, “What are your plans for
today?” “Breakfast,” Buffy said
promptly. “Take a look around and get the lie of the land. And I want to wash
my hair and get cleaned up.” “Good luck with the
river,” Angel replied. “It was really cold earlier when I washed up.” He
caught her expression and added swiftly, “But perhaps it’s warmer now.” “Doubt it,” she grinned
at him, deciding to pretend good humour. Since they were stuck here, she was
determined to make the best of things. She had Angel, after all, and she had food
and shelter. Things would turn out all right. Breakfast was
marvellous, mainly, Buffy suspected, because she was so hungry. The rabbit
thingy had a sweet and chewy taste; Buffy wasn’t about to complain over the
texture if it saved her reserve food. Afterwards, she wiped her sticky
fingers and felt brave enough to go down to the river. She slipped into the
tent as quietly as possible in case Angel was asleep, but he opened his eyes
when she entered. “Need my stuff,” she
told him. “Go back to sleep.” He couldn’t have been
quite awake, because his eyes drifted shut again. Buffy couldn’t help
thinking how cute he looked all drowsy, but she suspected that he could be
alert in seconds if the need arose. Buffy pulled a towel from her pack and
caught a little glimpse of the package that contained her photographs. She
had a sudden wave of homesickness, and an overwhelming urge to see her
mother’s smiling face again. She reached into the pack to pull it out, but
the moment her fingers closed on the parcel she knew something was wrong. The
firm packet had crunched under her
fingers, and with trembling hands she opened it up and delved inside. The
photographs were gone, turned into brittle and blackened fragments during the
horrific journey through the gateway. Buffy gasped in horror,
and Angel’s eyes flew open. “What is it?” Buffy waved the damaged
parcel in Angel’s direction, too upset to speak, and he scrambled up to kneel
behind her. “My pictures,” she
finally managed to get out. “All gone.” “I’m sorry,” Angel
sympathised, resting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “It’s all I had. My
friends…” Buffy continued, struggling to swallow down the tears that
threatened to fill her eyes. “I’m gonna forget them.” “You won’t forget them.”
Angel promised. “I will,” she wailed,
knowing that she sounded like a spoilt child, but feeling the loss of her
loved ones so acutely. “You won’t, Buffy,”
Angel said again, trying to keep his tone soothing. “You remember them, and I
remember them. I won’t let you forget.” “You won’t?” Buffy asked
hopefully. “No.” Angel confirmed,
his voice sounding hoarse and thick from the sudden onslaught of memory.
“We’ll talk about them…often.” He added, stroking a gentle hand down the side
of her face. “Thank you,” she said,
making a visible effort to control her emotions. “That would be good.” Buffy straightened up,
and he could feel that she wanted to distance herself from his support. She
had slipped into what he sometimes thought of as her ‘Slayer mode’, where she
would draw on her instincts and reserves of strength. He released her
shoulder, but idly wondered how much reserve she really had left. “Well, it’s no big,”
Buffy lied, gathering up her wash things, and Angel watched as she withdrew
from the tent and went down to the river. He was worried about her. Buffy was
gregarious by nature; but here, she only had his company, and he was well
aware that he wasn’t exactly a sociable person. She was really going to miss
Willow and Giles, and even Xander in her day-to-day existence; especially as
physical contact between them was so difficult. Another thought occurred
to him, and he reached over to his own pack and undid the straps. He found
one of the books that he’d brought with him and opened it up. Like Buffy’s
package, the books’ cover was intact, but the pages had disintegrated into
blackened dust. He sighed, and thrust it
back into his pack, to dispose of later. He didn’t want Buffy to see it and
get upset all over again. He lay down again,
trying to sleep, but he found he was listening out for Buffy to return, and
stirred restlessly until he heard her approaching the tent. Her hair hung
limp and wet over her shoulders and he could smell the soap and shampoo that
she’d just used. Her eyes were rimmed red, and he knew that she had been
crying. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it though, and she attempted
to grin at him. “See what you mean about
the water,” she said cheerily. “Cold?” “Like ice,” she shivered
at the memory. “You should see the size of my goose bumps.” She laid his duster over
the end of his sleeping bag, and said, “Thanks for the loan.” “Any time.” Buffy leant over and
kissed his forehead. “I’m going exploring.
I’ll see you later, okay?” “Okay,” he replied
reluctantly, his hands instinctively settling on her waist. “Be careful.” “Always am,” she smiled,
and withdrew from the tent. Angel watched her
retreat with growing apprehension. It was going to be tough for her here; her
strength and courage were not in question. But as a modern woman what she
would find difficult was the lack of amenities – no hot water or sanitation,
for instance. Still, she was resilient, his Buffy. He just hoped she was
resilient enough. Buffy backed slowly out
of the tent and made her way carefully along the riverbank. She knew that
she’d bailed on Angel but she was still feeling unsettled, and she hadn’t
wanted him to see it. The cool breeze plucked at her damp hair, making her
shiver. She could almost hear her mother telling her that she ‘Would catch
her death’. Thoughts of her mother
sent her spirits plummeting again. It wasn’t just the photographs that were
upsetting her; it was the whole feeling of not belonging. Since she was
fifteen she’d had a ‘Sacred Duty’ and had gotten used to being ‘The Chosen
One’. What was she here? Was she still the Slayer? Would her powers fade
away? She sighed; right now she needed to find out where they were and she
began looking for something to climb. She made for the tallest tree that she
could find, and began ascending the gnarled and twisty branches. She could
have jumped to the lower branches and made the task easier, but she had
plenty of time and needed something to occupy her. At the top of the tree,
she swung onto a thick branch, where she straddled the wood and settled back
against the trunk of the tree. The view that stretched
before her was impressive. Back the way they’d come, she could see the tower
in the distance, and ahead of her the river carried on through the
countryside, leaving a lush green band meandering beside it. Below the tree, she
could make out the top of the tent, and her errant thoughts immediately
strayed to Angel. She couldn’t believe that he was really here with her, that
he had agreed to accompany her on this mission. She’d missed him so much when
he left, and the intervening years without him had been hard to endure. Buffy relaxed back
against the tree and idly scanned the area. Some bushes nearby
caught her attention, covered as they were with an abundance of fruit. When she’d descended from the tree,
she decided to go and collect some; at least it would supplement her food
supplies. For some time, Buffy
languished in the tree, studying the view and pondering her options. But she
wasn’t one to sit still for long, and she swung herself easily out of the
tree and started on the tasks she had set herself. For the next couple of
hours, Buffy kept herself as busy as possible. But eventually, she just ran
out of things to do. After all, there were only so many things that needed
washing, repairing, tidying or gathering. There were still several hours of daylight left, and again
Buffy found herself thinking of Angel. All day she had tried to ignore the
fact that he lay sleeping just feet away from her, and she had a sudden urge
to see him. Damn it, she thought,
crawling into the tent and appreciatively studying his sleeping form. On an
impulse, she kicked off her shoes and slithered onto the sleeping bag next to
him. Angel sleepily opened
his eyes when he felt the press of her body on his. She snuggled up against
his chest and his arms automatically encircled her, pulling her close, and
together they slept. When Angel woke up,
Buffy had already gone but her scent lingered on, and he allowed himself to
luxuriate in the olfactory experience she had left behind. Emerging from the tent
as the first tendrils of darkness crept across the camp, Angel was rewarded
by the pleasing site of Buffy bending over the campfire and making coffee.
She faced away from him, and he allowed his gaze to sweep down over her back
and linger on her rear. “Coffee?” she asked
without turning round. “Please,” he replied,
tearing his attention away from her lithe form, and the way her… “Thanks,” he forced
himself to say as she handed him the welcome drink. He carefully avoided
touching her skin as he took it, and tried to ignore the fact that he badly
wanted to kiss her. Buffy’s eyes met his for
the briefest of seconds before she looked away and began packing up the camp.
It was early, and she knew that they didn’t have to move on yet, but the raw
hunger in Angel’s eyes had unnerved her. She needed to distract herself, and
find an outlet for her own mutinous thoughts. Angel helped her in
dismantling the camp, and by the time he’d finished his coffee, they were
ready to go. The following night
followed much the same as the one before, and they set up the pattern of
events for the next few weeks. By necessity they were only able to travel at
night, and were forced to camp during daylight hours. Every so often they
would stop in a particular location to regroup, catch up on the washing or
other chores. But they were never smitten by a place enough to stay
permanently and boredom – or the ever-present sexual tension between
them - would force them into
motion again. Over this period, the
supplies that they had brought with them dwindled alarmingly. While food
wasn’t really a problem – they had no trouble catching small wildlife on a
regular basis – and since Angel’s requirements were liquid, there was always
plenty for Buffy. The abundant fruit population supplemented her diet and she
had hardly had to touch her food reserves at all. However, in spite of the
seeming profusion of food, Angel was worried about the lack of essential
nutrients in her diet and he knew that she was losing weight. So, when they
noticed a large bird fly out of a tree one evening, Angel couldn’t resist
climbing up to pilfer some of the eggs for her. Buffy’s pleasure at the
change in her diet and her delighted, “My hero,” made it all worthwhile. The only food casualty
was coffee. Buffy had reluctantly gotten used to drinking it black, and weak,
to make it last, but the stock had inevitable expired. They were currently
experimenting with various leaf infusions in a forlorn attempt to make an
acceptable substitute. So far, their experiments had been unsuccessful, and
often with disgusting results. The other supplies
hadn’t fared well either, and it was the loss of these that caused Buffy the
most distress. Much of her makeup hadn’t fared terribly well on the journey
through the portal and all she had left was a couple of sad looking
lipsticks. These Buffy steadfastly refused to abandon, even to the extent of
scraping out the last dregs with her finger. Buffy’s vocal protests
when yet another of her ‘girly supplies’ dried up were becoming an almost
daily occurrence. She and Angel had already pooled together any stuff that
they could share, and even these meagre supplies of shampoo, toothpaste and
so forth, were in danger of becoming extinct. Another casualty had
been their clothing. Given their physical lifestyle, wear and tear on clothes
had been heavy. Angel insisted they keep all the skins from the animals
they’d caught, in preparation for the time when their apparel gave up the
ghost altogether. Buffy’s horrified reaction to ‘wearing smelly skins’ had
been explosive, impressing even Angel with her creative use of language. Medical provisions were
only used when strictly necessary, but since they both healed quickly the
strain on them wasn’t as great as it might have been. Angel tried,
unsuccessfully, to stop Buffy using the first aid kit when he was injured,
saying that he wasn’t likely to get an infection; but Buffy insisted on
dressing his wounds although she compromised by using tiny dabs of
antiseptic. One afternoon, several
weeks after arriving in the new world, Angel awoke to movement in the tent
and a vague sense of unease. He opened his eyes and saw Buffy sitting close
by, her knees pulled up and she was resting her head on her arms. “Buffy?” Buffy looked up slowly,
and Angel was shocked by how ill she looked. “What is it?” he asked,
sitting up quickly to get a better look at her. “I don’t know,” she
replied, sounding a little afraid. “I just… I feel awful.” “Have you eaten?” Angel
asked with concern. “Nothing unusual,” she
shivered, hugging her legs tighter. Feeling horribly
helpless, Angel said, “Can I get you anything?” Before Buffy could
answer, Angel watched the colour drain from her face and she scrambled to her
feet and bolted from the tent. It was daylight outside, so Angel was unable
to follow her, but he heard her crashing through the bushes, where she
stopped and retched violently. When she eventually
returned, looking more like death than he did, Angel silently handed her the
water bottle. “Thanks,” she said,
weakly taking a cautious sip. She looked so lost, so utterly miserable, that
on a whim Angel pulled back the covers and said, “Come here.” He settled back as she
crawled toward him. She wrapped her limbs round him and curled gratefully
against his chest. He pulled the covers closely around her, alarmed by the
shivering in her small body, and encircled her in his arms until she fell
into a restless and troubled sleep. Twice during the
afternoon Buffy repeated her dash from the tent, where Angel could hear her
heaving into the bushes. Each time she returned to the sanctuary of Angel’s
embrace she looked more and more wretched, and Angel grew steadily more
worried about her. In the evening her
condition worsened, and she slipped into delirium. Angel sat with her,
attempting to calm her frightened whimpers, and wondered what kind of horrors
her fevered brain had conjured up that was enough to scare the Slayer. Her skin had switched
from cold to fire, and Angel used a damp cloth to try and bring her
temperature down. As he wiped around her throat, trying to ignore the crazed
pulsing of her heartbeat, he noticed an inflamed redness on her neck. Pulling
her shirt back to get a better look, he was puzzled by an angry v-shaped rash
that ran round her throat, over her collarbone and disappeared somewhere over
her shoulder. Angel returned to his
task of cooling her down. The rash was very odd and like nothing he had ever
seen before. But it was the fever that was worrying him, and all night long
he stayed by her side, unable to shake the absurd notion that if he left her
she would die. He did his best to keep
her cool and comfortable, but it distressed him that she was in a great deal
of pain, and he could do nothing for that. Often, she cried out in her
delirium, sometimes calling out his name, but he had no idea if she was
seeking comfort from him or if he was hurting her in the hallucination. But
given their unfortunate history, he had a nasty suspicion as to what the true
answer might be. All day long the fever
raged, and several times he had to hold her down, but it was alarming to him
at how weak she was becoming. Her temperature kept escalating, and nothing he
did would keep it down – he even resorted to stripping her down to her bra
and panties. It still wasn’t enough and in desperation he stripped off his
own clothing and lay beside her, hoping his lower body temperature would help
her. Instinctively, she curled round him, wrapping her limbs round his and
snuggling closer to him. Whether she sought his
cool skin or was looking for comfort, he couldn’t tell. For the rest of the
day they lay wound together; Angel refused to leave her and in the early
evening he realised that her fever had broken. Tentatively he stroked her
fevered back in what he hoped was a comforting fashion, and waited. After
what seemed like forever, her eyes slowly drifted open; they settled on him,
and he could see her struggling to focus. “Angel?” “It’s me,” he confirmed,
aware that he was grinning like an idiot. “I’m here.” Still drowsy, Buffy’s
eyes closed again and she curled closer to him, her hand running gently up
his chest. Her hand encountered bare skin and she froze. She forced her eyes
open again and found that she wasn’t imagining things. She stared at her arm
suspiciously when she realised that was bare too, and she pulled it back
uncertainly. She had been dressed, hadn’t she? She couldn’t remember.
Restlessly, she changed position, shifting her leg, and felt it slide along
Angel’s naked thigh. Oh shit. Wide-awake now, she
pulled back to get a better look and her strained muscles twisted in protest.
She discovered that both she and Angel weren’t actually naked but were clad
in their underwear; she was nonetheless nonplussed at how they had gotten
like this. She looked up at him and
asked uncertainly, “You want to tell me why we’re both lying here almost
naked?” “You were… hot?” he
offered. “Always am, honey.”
Buffy quipped, unsteadily pushing herself up to a sitting position. Angel smiled. Well, he
couldn’t argue with that, could he? Feeling exposed, Buffy
grabbed a crumpled shirt and pulled it on. It turned out to be Angel’s, but
she wore it anyway. “So,” she said, trying
to sound businesslike and failing miserably. “What’s going on?” Angel explained about
the virus, and Buffy commented, “Must have been some bug.” “To knock out the
Slayer?” Angel replied. “Yeah, serious stuff.” “Not that I’ve done much
slaying lately,” she replied sadly. “Do you miss it?” Angel
asked, reaching over to tuck a wayward wisp of Buffy’s hair back behind her
ear. She winced as his fingers closed over the damp strands, but he didn’t
seem at all disgusted by her matted locks. “I guess,” she replied,
considering. “Back home, I knew who I was… the Slayer, Chosen One.” Her words
trailed off and she rocked slightly. Angel realised she must be exhausted and
moved behind her to allow her the support of his body, and she sank
gratefully back at him. “But here, I don’t know who I am any more. I’m not
the Chosen One, and I feel… ordinary.” She glanced at him ruefully. “Shallow,
huh?” “Of course not,” he
replied, slipping his arms round her waist. “We all have perceptions of who
we think we are. Your perceptions have changed, that’s all. Your whole worlds
changed, Buffy. It’s not surprising that you see yourself differently.” Buffy’s gaze was fixed
on him with a fierce intensity. “When you look at me, “
she asked. “What do you see?” “I see you.” He smiled
at her, aware that the moment was becoming more intimate. Her gaze didn’t
waver – she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “I see…” he hesitated as
he chose his words carefully. “…The Slayer, a warrior of great strength and
bravery. I see… a beautiful and compassionate woman. And sometimes, I see a
little girl, who just wants to be looked after.” Buffy’s gaze hadn’t left
his face at all during his discourse, but she did have the grace to blush a
little. The moment was so intense, and Angel was so close to her, that she
was afraid to move lest she break the spell. Kiss me, her eyes begged. Kiss me. Angel swallowed,
completely aware of what she wanted him to do. Somehow, his hand had found a
home against her soft breast, and he rubbed his thumb across her lacy bra,
making her gasp and drawing his attention back to her lips. He forced his
gaze away from her oh-so-inviting mouth, and again noticed how pale she
looked. He pulled his hand away from her, and sat back, suddenly awash with
self-loathing. Buffy stared at him in
puzzlement. She could tell that the moment had passed, but she didn’t
understand why. “You should rest.” Angel
said, his voice a little rougher than he had meant it to be. “Rest is good,” Buffy
agreed, allowing him to ease her back against the covers. Angel shuffled back
to give her space, and Buffy looked a little alarmed. “You’ll stay, won’t
you?” “I’m not going
anywhere,” he promised. “Sleep.
I’ll be right here.” She curled up in the
covers, already missing the comfort of Angel’s body, but smiling as he
wrapped the second sleeping bag round her and tucked her in. Tired but contented,
Buffy watched drowsily as Angel moved around the tent pulling his clothes
back on. She smiled when he drew another shirt from his pack, remembering she
was wearing his old one. It felt cosy, and she was so tired… Dressed again, Angel sat
cross-legged watching her sleep. She looked very young and very frail, and it
was easy to forget that she was the Slayer; his wandering gaze came to rest
on her face. Thank you. He wasn’t entirely certain who he was thanking for giving her back
to him. God? The Powers That Be? Did God even listen to him? ‘No matter how good a boy you are, God doesn’t
want you.’ He winced as Darla’s
words drifted back to haunt him; at the time he hadn’t let her see how much
her words had hurt him, as much because he knew she was telling the truth as
anything else. Why did it matter that
God turned him away? It did matter though, and it hurt when he tried so hard
to make amends. Yeah, but what about all those things you did before you
got your soul back? You don’t deserve His Love. He closed his eyes,
trying to ignore the sudden rush of memories – all those acts of violence,
torture and death that he had been responsible for, over a hundred years of
mayhem to make up for. You don’t deserve His Love. He thought again. And you don’t deserve hers, either. He opened his eyes and
let his hungry gaze explore her. He smiled sadly, thankful that she was now
on the road to recovery, but it had been touch and go there, for a while. Later that day, Angel
managed to persuade Buffy to eat something. To Buffy’s immense amusement –
and surprise – Angel had made her some weak soup from his latest catch.
Afterwards, he brought her a bowl of hot water to wash with, but it was such
an effort for her that Angel rolled up his sleeves and did it for her. At first Buffy was
embarrassed, but his touch was efficient and businesslike, and she was able
to relax and let him help her. The warm water made her feel much better, and
it was nice to fresh and clean again. Afterwards, Angel asked her if she
wanted help to wash her hair, but she told him she couldn’t face that, and so
instead he took ages gently smoothing out the tangles with her hairbrush.
Buffy leant in to his touch, and by the time her knotted tresses were looking
smooth and sleek, she was almost purring with contentment. The following day, Buffy
felt stronger and asked if they could move on; she didn’t want to stay in the
present camp any more. “Give it another day,”
he suggested, and she reluctantly agreed. Her strength was returning, but was
not up to her normal level. Angel made sure she was comfortable, and then
took his wash things down to the river. Laying his things on the
side of the riverbank, he stripped off his shirt and ducked his head in the
water. He was just lathering his hair with the smallest amount of shampoo
that he could, when he froze. Was that a sound? Was something lurking out
there? Instantly alert, all
senses tensed, Angel stayed absolutely still, listening to the night sounds. Finally,
he allowed his taut muscles to relax, feeling a little foolish. He really
ought to be used to the night by now. He cast about once more,
just to be certain. Then he began to lean forward to wash the shampoo out of
his hair… just as something huge erupted from the water and stapled its jaws
into his bare shoulder. He screamed, struggling
to pull back, but the creature was extraordinarily strong and hauled him to
the centre of the river. Angel fought with everything he had, but the thing
was long and sinewy and he couldn’t get a grip on the slippery skin. His
struggles only made the thing bite harder into his shoulder; he tried to
ignore the searing pain as best he could, as the creature wrapped a long tail
round his waist and pulled him under the surface of the water. With renewed vigour, and
fear, he frantically searched for a weak spot on the huge beast. Eyes, he thought frantically, go for the eyes. His fingers scrambled
up the beasts’ long body, over a ragged flap at the neck and settled on the
head, but he couldn’t find any eyes, ears, or anything else to get a purchase
on. He was tiring, and he
wondered how much longer he would be able to keep it at bay. Perhaps it was
tired too, and suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Abruptly, he allowed his
body to go limp, biting his lip from crying out at the pain in his shoulder.
The thing shook him, and he still forced himself to stay still. The
creature’s modus operandi probably worked by drowning its prey, and Angel was
banking on the fact it had never encountered a vampire before, and didn’t
know that you couldn’t drown them. For a long time, the
beast lay motionless on the riverbed, making sure its prey was dead, and
Angel debated his next move. All was silent here at the bottom, but Angel was
convinced the thing had damaged his hearing, because he could hear a rhythmic
thump-thump-thump. Frowning slightly, he
realised that the sound was external, and not in his own head as he had first
thought. He tuned into it… and found it was emanating from the creature. Now that’s interesting… abruptly
realising what he was listening to, he tried to stem the rush of excitement. It has a heartbeat… Slowly, he allowed the
current of the river to move his good arm closer to the creature’s body.
Trying not to make any sudden movements, he listened carefully to the beat…
sensing the exact location of the heart. Apparently happy that
its prey was incapacitated, the creature loosened its grip on his shoulder…
and Angel rammed a fist straight through its chest, grasped hold of the
pulsating heart and tore it right out of the body. The creature roared,
jerking away from the pain; the flaps on the side of its neck flared open,
and Angel dug both hands into the sensitive skin underneath, and hoped it
wouldn’t slam them shut and chop his fingers off. The beast shrieked,
deafening him. The tail flashed round, knocking Angel away from it, and he
took the opportunity to swim for the bank. The creature made no
attempt to follow him, and when he looked back he saw it floating immobile in
the water, and he knew it was dead. Dragging himself out of the water, he
collapsed exhausted on the riverbank, retching up the water that occupied his
lungs. He might not be able to drown, but it didn’t mean that having his
lungs full of water was a pleasant experience. Eventually, feeling
stronger, he sat up, and winced at the pain in his shoulder. He looked around
for his things, but all he could find was his shirt and some soap. The
shampoo, his towel and other things were nowhere to be seen, and he guessed
that they must have been swept away by the current. Shit. He staggered a bit
withdrawing back up the bank. As he beat a hasty retreat, he reflected on the
unfortunate events of the evening. That had been an awful thing to happen, just
awful. He grimaced as pain stabbed through his chest. Buffy was going to be real mad about that
shampoo… Buffy heard something
crashing through the trees toward the camp. She came out of the tent, and
finally realised the commotion was coming from Angel. Well, he’s not being very stealthy tonight, is he? He appeared in view,
very wet, and Buffy guessed that he must have fallen in the river. “You ought to get
undressed when you have a bath,” she teased, her smile fading when the rest
of him came into view. “And alone would be good.” She rushed to his side,
diving under his arm and supporting him. She grunted when she ended up
supporting more of his weight that she was expecting, and that worried her.
The fact that he was allowing her to help him at all when she had been so ill
was cause for concern. “What’d you share with?” She helped him sit down
on a log, and, gritting his teeth, Angel said, “Something big. Serpentine.” “You get it?” she asked,
breaking out the first aid kit. “Or should I go looking?” “No, I got it,” Angel
said gruffly as Buffy examined the wound. “This is deep, Angel,”
she said in awe. “No kidding,” he
grunted. Doing her best to
distract him while she cleaned the wound, she asked, “How did you kill it?”
he’d clenched the muscles in his arm to minimise the discomfort, and Buffy
thought that she was probably wincing more than he was. “Ripped its fucking
heart out,” he growled, but seeing her flinch, he added more gently, “Which
is about a hand-width under the neck frill, if you ever need to know.” “I’ll bear that in
mind,” she said as she finished dressing his wound. “Do you want me to get
you something to eat?” “I’ve already fed,” he told
her, and Buffy nodded with satisfaction. That was good; it meant he would
heal faster. Fetching a towel, she helped dry him off, and then escorted him
into the tent. What he needed now was rest. They were forced to keep
camp for a while longer, as Angel took the next day to heal. The following
day they broke camp and moved off. Buffy wasn’t sorry to leave, too many
unpleasant things had happened there, and she had the silly notion that maybe
the place was jinxed. By the time they had
chosen a suitable place to make camp, they were both starting to feel the
strain. Neither of them had completely recovered, and the sheer effort that
it had taken to travel onward had left them feeling tired and tetchy. After erecting the tent,
Buffy crawled inside, and left Angel to go and find some food. Buffy curled
up inside the tent, her arms wrapped tightly round her legs – too tired to
even take off her shoes. Resting her head on her knees, she let herself doze
a little. A soft shooshing sound brought her instantly alert. Was that Angel
coming back? She listened carefully. There it was again. A thump on the roof
of the tent just above her head made her jump, and she grabbed a knife and
headed outside. There was another thump
on the roof as she crawled out, and grasping the knife tightly she scrambled
up to look. She was just in time to see a large black-and-brown beetle – the
size of a dinner plate – slither off the roof and skitter onto the ground.
She looked down; several beetles ran about on the floor, and with a little
squeal she stepped back in disgust. Another beetle landed on
the roof of the tent and galvanised her into action. She jerked forward,
spearing the beetle on the knife, and flicked it off into the bushes. More
beetles landed on the tent. Where the hell were they coming from? Looking up,
all she could see was the breeze ruffling at the leaves of the tree. But, as
she watched one of the leaves drop down and turn into a beetle, her blood ran
cold. It wasn’t leaves she was seeing; the whole tree was a churning
infestation of beetles. “Angel!” she shrieked as
she stabbed at the disgusting little creatures. “Angel!” It occurred to her that
she should move the tent to safety and she ducked down to untie the guy
ropes. A beetle ran across her hand and she jerked it away with a cry of
pain. Another beetle ran across her shoulder, and she slapped at the thing to
knock it off, but not before it had taken a tiny bite from her neck. “Great.” She grumbled to
herself, untying the ropes and trying to fend off the creatures. “That’s all
I want… vampire insects.” Beetles were now
crawling all over her back, her head, even her face, taking tiny little nips
from her, and she couldn’t reach to knock them all off. Then Angel was there,
pulling the creatures off her and throwing them on the ground where he
squashed them by stamping on them. He pulled her to her feet, and then went
round to untie the ropes on the other side. “Ouch!” Buffy shrieked
as a beetle latched onto her little finger and refused to let go. Angel looked up in concern as she
smashed it against the tree and killed it. He could smell blood, and realised
that Buffy was in a lot of distress. “Get back!” he yelled at
her. “I’ll deal with this.” “I’m not leaving you,”
she shouted back. “Go!” he said again.
“They’re not biting me, anyway; get away!” She glanced over, but he
was right. The beetles were largely avoiding Angel, and her body was so sore
from all the bites that she had received, that she retreated gratefully to
safety. But she couldn’t just stand by and watch, so she snatched up a sword
and went back to keep as many of the creatures away from Angel as she could. Finally recovering the
tent and their things, they gathered the lot up unceremoniously and beat a
hasty retreat. At a safe distance, they stopped to catch their breath. “Are you okay?” Angel
asked her. “Do I look okay?” she snapped at him.
Frankly, no, she didn’t. He put the camping things down and went to get a
closer look at her. All exposed areas of skin were covered in dozens of tiny
little bites, and even the areas that had been clothed had blood seeping from
underneath. Angel lifted her chin and made her look at him. “It hurts, Angel,” she
said softly. “So many bites, and they really hurt.” He pulled her into his
arms and held her close. The
smell of her blood slammed hard against him, and he was torn between his need
to comfort her and his desire to push her away so that he couldn’t rip her
throat out. Buffy held him tightly,
trying to draw strength from him. When she stepped back, Angel said, “We
should clean those bites, Buffy.” Buffy shook her head.
“It would take ages, Angel. We don’t have time. We need to find somewhere to
make camp before the sun comes up… and it was pretty difficult to find
somewhere to make the last one.” That was true enough.
There had been very few open spaces that would have been large enough take a
tent that they had been beginning to wonder if something was going to turn up
at all. Now they were going to have to do it again – and soon. Buffy sighed, and bent
down to begin organising the equipment into neat packages so that they would
be able to carry them. Reloading themselves with the repacked goods, they set
off again. For the next couple of
hours they trudged through the darkness, settling into silence because
neither had the energy to keep a conversation going. “Do you have to walk so fast, Angel?” Buffy
grumbled. “Sorry.” He slowed his
pace to allow for her shorter legs. She must be really tired, because she
normally kept up without any problems, and he glanced surreptitiously at her.
She looked dog-tired; the flesh on her face and neck looked sore from where
the beetles had nipped her. He couldn’t see her hands but figured they were
in a similar painful state. “Do you want me to take
some of those packages?” he asked tentatively, and was rewarded with a glare. “I’m not helpless. You
don’t need to baby me.” “I was just...” he began
but she swept past him, her head held high. He followed, rather relieved that
she hadn’t wanted him to carry extra because his shoulder was giving him
hell. But her manner worried him. Buffy couldn’t keep up
the pace, and began to drag behind again. Were they never going to find somewhere
to camp? The journey seemed to take forever, and she hurt everywhere. She allowed her thoughts to wander
while she trailed behind Angel. The last few days had been horrendous, full
of pain and illness; she didn’t think she liked this world any more. Mentally
she chided herself, she wasn’t pessimistic by nature and she realised that
her gloomy thoughts were probably brought on by tiredness. Come on, Buffy! Things aren’t that bad. You and Angel
heal really fast, and in a couple of days you’ll be fine. In a little while,
you’ll find a place to camp and after good nights sleep you’ll feel great.
See? Things will work out…after all, what else could possibly go wrong? And that was when it
started to rain. Had to ask, didn’t I? Buffy sighed, doing up her jacket and pulling up
the collar. Rain did not begin to
describe the deluge that fell from the sky. Thousands of tiny little icy
pinpricks, stinging the skin, and opening up all Buffy’s partially closed
bites. She looked down; her jacket was stained with blood where the rain had
washed it down from her face. Angel turned round at
the fresh scent of blood, but he said nothing and Buffy shrugged. “No big,”
she tried to say, but the water filled her mouth and made her gurgle. No
talking then. They had never seen rain like it. In minutes they were
saturated, the water running down their necks to soak them right down to the
skin. Instinctively they both
lowered their heads to protect their faces, but the harsh hammering of the
freezing water on the tops of their heads made their skulls go numb; and
every time they tried to raise their heads and look up, their eyes filled
with water and it became impossible to see anything. Buffy gave up trying to see;
she just trudged behind Angel and hoped he would be able to see where they
were going. She was seriously pissed off. Her head hurt, the bites stung, and
she was cold and wet. Her thoughts strayed to Sunnydale, and a wave of deep
longing swept through her. She thought about all the wonderful comforts of
home that she had taken for granted. She wanted to be warm and dry. She
wanted a hot meal, something tasty like her mother used to make. She wanted
indoor plumbing, huge bars of chocolate and some comfortable clothes. But she
wasn’t going to have any of them. What she was going to get was wetter,
hungrier and more uncomfortable; her skin was going to get drier and sore
because she had nothing to put on it to keep it soft. Angel suddenly veered
off the track and Buffy followed. He had found a little clearing, not quite
big enough for the tent but he motioned to her and she nodded. Together they
began hacking at the vegetation to make more space. “I’ll do it,” Buffy
said, much of her words drowned by the downpour. “Get the tent up.” Angel glanced at her,
and Buffy thought he was about to argue, but then he moved forward and began
erecting the tent. The ground was muddy and slippery, and he was having
trouble securing the ropes. Buffy went to help him, but it was difficult to
get purchase and, already tired and irritable, they found themselves shouting
crossly at each other. By the time that they
finally crawled into the sanctuary of the tent, they were both in a foul
mood. A lot of mud and water made it inside with them, and attempts to dry
themselves were awkward in the cramped surroundings. Buffy grumbled that
Angel was taking up all the room, and shaking water all over her. Angel
retaliated by saying that if she hadn’t insisted on packing so much in the
first place, they would have more room anyway. “Right,” she shot back.
“Because you’re so organized with your packing? And just why does a guy who
hasn’t got a reflection need so much hair gel anyway?” “What’s that got to do
with it?” Angel exclaimed. “Hair gel hardly takes up any room compared to all
the clothes you insisted on bringing. You must have hundreds of panties in
there!” Buffy gaped at him.
“You’ve been rummaging through my underwear? What the hell do you think
you’re doing?” “I don’t need to
rummage,” he growled. “The damn things are everywhere! You know Buffy, it
gets pretty tiresome finding them spread all over bushes and…” “I have to wash them!
What’s your problem anyway, Angel? Is this your 18th Century
upbringing coming out?” “There’s nothing wrong
with my upbringing, or good manners.” Angel snapped. “Something you modern
kids might like to learn about.” Stung, Buffy snapped,
“I’m not a kid! You’re just old!” her voice cracked a little as she added,
“You think I’m a kid?” “Right now?” he snorted.
“I think you’re a…” He broke off when she
looked away suddenly and made an odd sound. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes,
and hesitantly he said, “Buffy?” She didn’t answer, but
her shoulders were shaking, and he reached over, took her chin and made her
look at him. She was crying, and he suddenly felt like a heal. Damn. She looked terrible. Her
saturated hair dripped down over a face that was bruised and swollen with
dozens of tiny bites, and they had to be hurting her. He looped the wet hair
back behind her ears, and, careful to avoid her damaged skin, he used his
thumbs to wipe away her tears. “I’m sorry,” he said
softly. “Tact not my strong point, is it?” Buffy smiled sadly at that.
“Or mine, I guess.” She looked so miserable,
that on impulse he pulled her closer. She snuggled nearer, grateful to
finally have some comfort in this hostile world. Angel wrapped his arms round
her, wanting only to comfort her – yet gaining comfort himself from the
closeness. “I don’t like it here,”
she confided to him. “This place is horrible… cold and harsh. I want to go
home.” The tears started again,
and he hauled her onto his lap and held her tightly. She curled into his
embrace, feeling so small and frail that she felt like a child. Angel held
her as she wept, stroking her arms and back, and soothing her with nonsense
words. Buffy finally uncurled
from Angels’ arms, feeling horribly self-conscious and aware that she
probably looked ghastly. She was still cold and wet, and she shivered; Angel
frowned, thinking that she would be ill again if she didn’t soon get some dry
clothes on. “Sorry,” she mumbled
uncomfortably, wiping at her wet cheeks with her hand. “Like you need more
water in here.” Angel warmed her with a
smile. “That’s okay,” he told her. “What’s a little water between friends?” Friends? Buffy thought. Is that all we
are, just friends? But she understood that Angel was trying to make light
of the situation, and she pushed her hurt aside and smiled back at him. After a while, they
changed into dry clothing as best they could, with both exhibiting good
manners and averting their gaze as the other undressed. Then Angel cleaned
her wounds, and she kept her clothes strategically draped round her body for
the sake of modesty. But she wouldn’t allow him to put dressings on the
wounds. There were too many for one thing, and with her accelerated healing
abilities she said they would be gone soon anyway. Finally, after a day
that seemed to have lasted for weeks, and with rain still pummelling the
roof, they curled up side-by-side, and slept. The rain lasted for
days, and Buffy and Angel tried not to go out any more than they had to,
because each time more water and mud found their way into the tent, and
little pools of water were forming all over the interior. Angel had stopped
hunting, because they were unable to cook the meat for Buffy without a fire,
and she had to use up some of her rations. She didn’t like doing that, knowing
that Angel wasn’t eating either, and she worried about his rapidly darkening
mood. The enforced rest helped
them to recover, and for Buffy’s injuries to heal. But the imposed close
proximity did nothing for their temperaments, and Angel found it particularly
hard. He had always liked to
surround himself with a lot of space; the tight confines of the tent made him
feel immensely claustrophobic. Nor did he normally allow the company of
humans for any length of time, and when that human was Buffy, the distress
was ten times harder to bear. If all this wasn’t enough for him to deal with,
Buffy was about halfway through her period, and the enticing aroma of her
blood was so rich, so powerful that he was constantly fighting the urge to
taste her. Buffy wasn’t a fool, she
knew exactly why Angel kept himself as far away from her as the small living
area would allow. The forced intimacy was proving hard to cope with, and they
both dropped back into taking out their frustration on each other. Buffy was
only too aware that being ensconced with a vampire at such a time was
definitely not a good idea. “This must be really
hard for you,” Buffy said sympathetically, after watching Angel’s anguished
expression, the tight fisting of his hands, and the edgy clenching of his
jaw. “You could say that,” he
said, his voice tight. “Usually, I get out as much as possible but right
now…” “You’re stuck with me.”
Buffy finished. “Nice to know you want to be with me.” “It’s got nothing to do
with you.” Angel snapped. “If you knew what I was thinking right now, you
wouldn’t even want me here.” “So talk to me. Tell me
what I can do?” “Stop being human?” he
suggested. “Stop being so desirable?” he closed his eyes briefly. “You have
no idea, Buffy… you really don’t
get it.” Buffy stared at him,
seeing the worry in his features. “Angel…” she said,
leaning toward him and stretching out a comforting hand. “Don’t touch me!” he
barked, and Buffy yanked her hand away at the fear in his eyes. He stared at
her for a moment and then scrambled up, shrugging on his wet coat. “I can’t
stay here,” he told her. “I’m a danger to you.” “But…” Buffy began, but
Angel ignored her and was gone, disappearing into the downpour. Buffy spent an
uncomfortable night worrying about Angel, and she was concerned that he was
leaving his return so close to the dawn. Eventually, just before the dawn
crept across the sky, Angel returned to the tent, looking more sheepish than
anything else. Buffy watched him
expectantly, waiting to see what he was going to say. He knelt down in front
of her. “I’m sorry.” Buffy pulled her knees
up and hugged her legs. “Have you fed?” “Yeah.” He looked away,
embarrassed. “I’m safe now.” “That’s more than I am,”
she replied ruefully, and Angel chuckled softly. “Angel… I know what you are… you don’t have to be
ashamed.” “It’s not that,” he
replied carefully. “Buffy, you have no idea how strong the urge to feed is.
I’m afraid that I won’t be able to control it. I’m a danger to you, and if I
hurt you…” “You won’t,” Buffy said,
taking his hand. “I trust you.” Angel began to speak, but Buffy held up her
hand. “I know it’s hard for you. But I’m not naïve, I know what urges drive
you, Angel. It’s my job to know – and I still trust you. And as I recall,
I’ve even used those urges against you.” Angel glanced sharply at
her; the memory of what she had made him do to save his life still haunted
him. She was right though. If anyone knew his weaknesses, it was Buffy, and
he sank back on his haunches defeated. Buffy squeezed his hand,
but they sat together in silence. Finally, Angel moved,
his hand disappearing into his coat pocket, where he withdrew something and
held it out to her. “Peace offering,” he
said sheepishly. Buffy looked at the item
clutched awkwardly in his hand. It was a spiky oval orange fruit, her
favourite from the new world and one she affectionately referred to as a
‘Prickly Orange’. But the image
of a wet Angel kneeling before her clutching the fruit was just so… silly, that she began to laugh. For a moment, Angel
looked hurt that his gift had elicited such a response; but then he began to
smile too, apparently infected by her mirth. “Thank you,” she
giggled, taking the offered fruit and wrapping her arms round his back, and
ignoring his drenched clothing.
Angel pulled her closer, thankful that he was able to touch her for
the first time in days. “I’m sorry…” he began,
but Buffy cut him off. “Don’t,” she said softly,
“I understand.” Angel pulled her tighter
against his chest. He didn’t deserve this; he didn’t deserve her love, or her
trust. She curled easily against him, and let his arms envelope her, wrapping
her in a protective cocoon. It was where she belonged, and she basked in the
warmth of the love that she felt. The rain lasted for two
more days. By the time it finally stopped, the tent was wringing in water,
and nearly all their clothes had fallen victim to the constant damp. There
was nowhere to dry anything, and a lot of their things were beginning to rot,
and mildew had appeared on many of their clothes and personal items. Buffy spent another
couple of days stringing lines at every available space to dry out their
clothes. But there was no soap left to wash anything with, and although she
tried to rinse things out in the river and dry them properly, everything was
left with a musty and unpleasant aroma. After they had done all
they could, eventually they decided to move on. Buffy was fretting at how
high the water level on the river had become anyway, and she was afraid that
they would be flooded out of the camp site. The ground underfoot was
still slippery after so much rain and progress to the next stop was slow.
After several days, they saw a rocky ridge ahead, and decided that it was a
good a destination as any and proceeded towards it. It took another day to
reach it, but it was nice to feel firm and dry ground under their feet. Buffy
loved the view, too. She could see for miles, and she liked to sit up there
in the sunshine and watch the birds and lizards. One morning, she sat on
the ridge scanning across the horizon. A strange noise caught her attention,
and she shuffled backwards, to make sure that she was out of sight, and
watched. A wagon of some kind
rumbled into the canyon below her, and Buffy caught her breath. People. There are people here. She
watched as the beautifully carved wooden wagon wound its way through the
canyon. A man, a woman, and a small child – Buffy thought it was a girl – sat
at the front, controlling the movements of a pair of powerful looking brown
and white horses. Why do they have real
horses in Other Universes, anyway? When the wagon
disappeared from view, Buffy scrambled back down to the campsite. Angel. I have to tell Angel about this. He was kneeling
restlessly just inside the tent entrance. They always tried to position the
entrance away from direct sunlight so that Angel could hide just inside and
talk to her sometimes. If they used the remains of the old tent as a canopy,
it expanded his living area, and made the long days easier for them to bear. “What’s happening?” he
asked, relieved when she appeared in view. “A wagon just went by.
It had people, Angel… real people… they looked just like us!” Angel smiled in spite of
himself. He didn’t want to remind her that he wasn’t actually people, but she
was very excited and he liked seeing her like that. “Tonight we follow
them?” he guessed. Buffy nodded, wriggling
into the tent and snuggling against him. “Yay.” She said with enthusiasm. “I
wonder where they were going? A village, perhaps?” “Guess we’ll go find
out,” he agreed, wrapping his arms round her waist. Her enthusiasm was
infectious, and his mood felt lighter than it had in days. She wriggled back so she
was sitting in front of Angel, facing forwards, and her shoulders resting
snugly against his chest. “Real people, Angel,”
Buffy mused. “I wonder what they will be like?” “Like people?” Angel
teased. Buffy twisted her head
to retaliate to him, but he leant forward unexpectedly and planted a soft
kiss on her lips. “That’s nice,” she said,
when his lips moved downwards and settled on her neck. He nipped gently at
the scar there, making her giggle, and kissed as much of her throat as he
could reach. He could feel her heart rate speeding up in anticipation, and he
kissed a lazy path back up to her lips. Her lips parted expectantly, and his
tongue ventured forward to explore her. She moaned, raising her arms to wrap
round his neck, and inadvertently pushing her chest out. Angel’s hand slid
upwards to cup her breast, and he felt her shiver as he brushed against the
hard nipple. She arched instinctively toward his hand, wanting more of his
touch, and trying to catch his tongue with hers. His other hand crept up,
pushing her shirt up with it, and his hands rubbed and caressed her bare
breasts, feeling their weight against his skin. “Angel…” she moaned,
squirming against his cool fingers. “Please…” Please what? He wondered. Please, more… or
please stop? He chose to believe the former, and he increased the
intensity if the kiss, making them both moan with pleasure. One hand crept down her
firm stomach and squirmed under the elastic of her underwear. Buffy whimpered
at the invasion, anticipating the journey that his fingers were making on her
body, but the consequences alarmed her. “We can’t…” she began. “Yeah, we can.” Angel
whispered in her ear. “This is for you, Buffy… just for you.” His mouth reclaimed
hers, and his hand found their goal; he slid two fingers inside her,
mimicking the movement of his tongue as it mated with hers. He fingered and
kissed her until she came, screaming his name as she spasmed in his arms. He waited for her to
regain her sanity, and said gently. “Feel better?” “Yes.” She frowned. “How
did you… oh, right. Vampire senses, huh?” Angel gave her a rather
smug smile, but she couldn’t be really angry with him, considering the
pleasure he’s just given her.
Angel’s arms tightened on her as she leant back against his chest. He
nuzzled in her hair, and reflected on her changed sexuality. When they were
together before, she was just a young girl, naive and inexperienced. It
wasn’t so hard for her to accept a sexless relationship because she had no
idea what she was missing. Now though, she was a woman; she’d had other
partners and god knows what she’d done with them. The thought of her with
other men was like a punch in the gut, and it hurt him that he hadn’t been
the one to teach her, when there was so much that he’d wanted to share with
her. “I should go,” Buffy
said reluctantly. “You should.” Angel
agreed. She shifted a little to
look at him. “But what about you…?” “I’m fine.” He groaned
as she squirmed against him, the evidence of his lie pressing into her back. “But you didn’t…” “No,” he agreed. “So,
perhaps you’d better leave so that I can deal with it.” Buffy’s eyes widened.
“Oh… I could help you with that?” “I don’t think that’s a
good idea.” He replied sadly, giving her a final kiss. “Go. We’ll want to
make an early start this evening.” “Okay.” She squirmed out
of the tent. “Sleep well, Angel.” When night fell, they
packed up and followed the route taken by the wagon. The trail wound through
the rocky canyon and, and coming out the other end, they looked down. At the bottom of the
canyon stood a pair of large wooden shacks. The one at the back was partially
open, and they could see an animal’s legs as it paced restlessly to and fro.
The shack at the front was bigger and there was a large sign in front of it. Buffy and Angel made
their way down to the shack, approaching cautiously from the rear. They had
not seen the wooden wagon that had led them to this place, and Angel figured
it had long gone. Stealthily they crept
round the back of the shack, and headed toward the front. They froze at the
sound of a man’s voice from inside; but when they heard a woman moaning and
the man begin grunting, they moved forward again. “Guess nothing changes,”
Buffy mumbled quietly to hide her embarrassment. Angel didn’t reply, but
he continued his stealthy approach, and Buffy fell silent. At the front of
the building a horse stood tethered to a wooden rail, and they located the
sign at the front and went to read it. Except it turned out to be a gibberish
assortment of symbols. “Helpful.” Buffy said. But underneath the
symbols they found some pictures of food, blankets and other equipment. “I think it’s a store,”
Angel said speculatively. “Or maybe a trading post.” He smiled at her. “Want
to take a look?” “A store?” she grinned
back. “Do you really need to ask me?” She pushed open the door
and stepped inside. Angel followed, hesitating slightly as he reached the
threshold. But no barriers stopped him and he too stepped in. Either this was
a public building, or the invitation rule didn’t apply here. Inside, the room was
crammed with goods. Every available shelf was packed with large tins, sacks
and tools. At the back of the building was a long counter, and behind this a
man stood sorting through some glass jars with unidentifiable contents, and
on the counter a little boy of perhaps three or four played with some wooden
beads. The man looked up
expectantly when they came in, and then his gaze swung to Buffy, and a leer
spread across his face. “How much for your
woman?” he asked Angel. “She’s not for sale,”
Angel said, grabbing Buffy’s shoulder as she started forward. To his utter
amazement, she stopped meekly, and smiled at him sweetly; but he knew that
she was seething. He suspected that it was only the fact that she didn’t know
the local customs that stopped her from pummelling the storekeepers face into
the counter. “She’d get a good rate.”
The man continued, oblivious to the danger he was in. “I’ll give you a good
cut.” he assured Angel. “She. Is. Not. For.
Sale.” Angel growled. “What part of that did you not understand?” The keeper paled at the threat in
Angel’s voice, and Buffy turned away to hide a smile. Your Woman. Her smile grew wider; she really liked the sound of
that. Some boots caught her eye, and she went to have a look at the goods on
display. She knew it was a waste of time since she didn’t have any local
currency, but it was fun to look, just the same. She looked up when a
door next to the counter opened and a middle-aged man came out. He hurried
past everyone without a word, and went outside to where Buffy could see him
untying his horse and mounting up. A few minutes later, a woman came out and
gave Angel a visual once-over. Buffy moved into view, ready to protect Angel
if need be; but the woman moved smoothly away and went to pick up the child. “Look, mama,” he proudly
showed her his little stacks of coloured beads, and Buffy went back to her
browsing. Angel was deep in conversation with the keeper, and she saw him
pile their animal skins on the counter. She guessed he was attempting to
trade them, and she left them to it. Perhaps they would have some currency
after all. When she returned to the
counter, Angel was appreciatively studying a knife, sliding it carefully from
its sheath and holding it firmly to check the weight and balance of it. The
storekeeper was putting a bar of something down next to a white bag, which
Buffy guessed contained salt, and she remembered that Angel had told her that
salt held both antiseptic and preserving qualities. But what was the bar? “Soap?” she exclaimed.
“We have real soap?” Angel smiled at her, and
Buffy turned to the keeper, apparently having forgiven him for his earlier
comments. “What kind is it? For
washing clothes, or people?” The keeper stared at her
as if she was insane. “Just got the one,” he said carefully. He looked at
Angel. “Want anything else?” Angel looked to Buffy
for guidance. Stores really weren’t his territory. “Got any coffee?” she
asked the keeper. At his puzzled look, she added, “It’s a drink. You have it
hot… maybe from a pot?” “Got some Grak,” he told
her, putting a bag on the counter, and Buffy said they would give it a try.
She returned to the shelves and selected a round loaf and put that on the
counter too. Then she picked up Angel’s purchase and took it from its sheath
to look at it. “Nice Knife.” She
grinned at him. “It’s sharp,” he agreed.
“The handle’s got a good grip.” “Yeah, I noticed that.”
She nodded at the counter. “Do we want anything else?” “Probably,” he said.
“But we can always come back.” Angel paid for the goods
using some metallic discs that Buffy figured he must have got from the sale
of the skins. Then they packed up the goods and went outside. “Sleazebag.” Buffy
grumbled when they were out of hearing. “Imagine! Do the women not have any
status here? He wanted to buy me!
Then what? Sell me as a slave to the highest bidder?” Angel glanced at her,
frowning slightly. “He didn’t want to sell you as a slave, Buffy.” “He didn’t?” she said,
confused. “Then what was that about a good price and…” Her words trailed off
and her eyes widened as she remembered the sounds coming from the rear of the
shack. “He wanted me to whore for him?” “Yes.” “Euw,” she shivered.
“But that’s disgusting! What kind of man pays for sex anyway? Would you pay for it?” As soon as the words
were out of her mouth she wanted to take them back. Angel was the last person
she should have said that to, and the look he shot her was so sad, that she
felt awful. “I’m sorry,” she said,
sheepishly. “It doesn’t matter,” he
said, and Buffy could tell that he was a little distracted. “What’s up?” Angel gazed at her
thoughtfully. “I was thinking about that trading post. You know, it would
give us an income.” Buffy glared at him. “If
you think I’m letting some sweaty old guy…” “No, I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly. A thought
occurred to him and he added, “You have a problem with old guys?” “Yeah,” Buffy grinned.
“Especially the dark brooding ones. So, what did you mean?” “We could do quite well
on the animal skins. Up to now, we haven’t really bothered with them, because
we only need a small animal at a time. With both of us hunting, we could go
for bigger animals.” “I’m a Slayer, Angel…
not a hunter.” “You’d learn, Buffy. It isn’t
that much different, and you’ve already got enhanced senses to help you. What
do you think?” “Why not? If hunting
gives me more money to buy stuff, I say go for it. We can spend our spare
time shopping.” Angel grimaced. “I was
afraid of that.” “We’re really going to
have to work on your people skills, Angel.” Buffy giggled at his
sour expression, and slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it
affectionately, and together they went off to set up a new camp. They stayed close to the
trading post for a couple of weeks, using the time to hunt and replenish
their stores. Angel taught Buffy to hunt, and as he’d expected, she turned
out to be a natural. Her slayer abilities were easily utilised for hunting,
though she tended to be a little impetuous at times. The animal skins mounted
up quickly, and they made enough money to restock their supplies and buy some
local clothing so that they didn’t look so out of place. The clothing was
functional, but not particularly appealing or comfortable to wear, as most
was made out of drab, heavy and course fabrics. When it came time to
move on, they did so with a new sense of purpose. It turned out that the trading posts appeared every so
often on the main thoroughfares, and because they had kept to the river and
uninhabited areas, they had missed them all. Hunting together became
a regular nightly event, and they had picked up many interesting skins of
different types. One night, on the trail
of a four-legged beige animal that resembled a large dog, Angel watched
Buffy’s attempts to track their prey. He was meant to be studying her
technique, but in fact, he found himself watching her. She was so graceful, and
he watched appreciatively as she crouched in the bushes, waiting for just the
right moment to attack. Her face was alive with the thrill of the hunt, and
he was reminded of how vivacious she used to be. The dog-thing ambled
into view and Buffy tensed, the knife clenched in her right hand. The
creature approached, and she launched herself at it. Angel sighed. Too soon, Buffy. The animal took
flight, and Buffy went off in pursuit. Too late, though; crestfallen, she
returned to Angel. “Sorry,” she shrugged.
“I got excited.” A smile tugged at the
corner of his mouth. “So I noticed.” “It’s okay, though…
isn’t it?” Angel stepped toward
her, entranced by the shine in her eyes and the glow to her skin. “It’s fine,” he assured
her. Buffy looked up at him
expectantly. He lifted his hand and ran a finger along the line of her jaw,
and Buffy swallowed nervously. Her skin tingled where he had touched her, and
she said softly, “Angel…” Without any conscious
thought, they stepped closer together until their bodies were almost
touching. Buffy licked her dry lips, and managed to capture Angel’s attention
with the movement. He leant forward slowly, pressing his lips against hers;
Buffy moaned, moulding her body against his, and pulled him closer. The kiss
began softly, growing stronger as their excitement grew, and Angel slipped a
hand inside her shirt. Buffy shuddered,
wrapping her arms round his back as the kiss became even more intense. Angel
had both hands inside her shirt, caressing the cool skin of her back, and
holding her firmly against his body. She moaned as the passion grew, trying
to feel as much of him as she could; she was very aware that touching like
this was all that they were allowed to do. A low growl made her
pull away from Angel and stare quizzically at him. But he was looking around,
just as a man-sized bundle of mottled brown fur hurled itself out of the
bushes and rushed toward them. Parting instantly, the
pair attacked the beast in unison, ducking oversized paws that wanted to tear
them apart. Buffy attacked from the back, slashing through skin and muscle,
making the creature roar in pain. Lunging from the front, Angel drove his
knife into the throat; the creature howled, spinning round so fast that its
claws gouged a bloody groove through Buffy’s left arm. Buffy screamed,
backhanding the beast as it tried to follow through, and as it stumbled
backwards, Angel leapt on it, jamming the knife into the throat a second time
and ripping through the main artery. It fell like a stone,
blood sprayed across them both in a fine arc, and pumped from the ruined
throat; the creature shuddered and convulsed as it died. Angel sidestepped
the fallen body and went over to where Buffy steadied herself against a tree,
her damaged arm held protectively against her body. “Let me see.” Buffy let Angel peel
back the fabric of her shirt and examine the deep gash that travelled the
length of her forearm. It was still bleeding, and Buffy yelped as Angel used
both of his hands to pull the edges of the wound together and applied
pressure to stop the bleeding. “This needs dressing,”
he told her. It probably needs stitches
too, he thought unhappily. “I’ll be okay,” she
muttered. She turned to look at the fallen beast, and said, “We made a mess
of the coat. Won’t get much for that.” “That’s not important,”
Angel snapped, worry making his tone harsh. “Wow,” Buffy murmured.
“That’s some bedside manner you’ve got there.” Removing his hands from
her arm, he noted with satisfaction that the bleeding had stopped. She seemed
to be okay, and he bent to sling the carcass of the beast over his shoulder.
Buffy carried the smaller prey back to camp, and Angel kept a furtive watch
on her to make sure all was well. At times like this, he wanted to forget
that she was the Slayer and fuss over her; but he knew she wouldn’t thank him
for that at all. Back at the camp, Angel
dressed Buffy’s injury. It was nasty, already looking inflamed and bruised.
With Buffy’s accelerated healing abilities, it was worrying that the wound
was looking so grim. When he was sure she was
looking good, he went down to the river to wash up. He was covered in blood,
both from Buffy’s wound and from slicing the beast’s throat, and the smell
was making him feel damned hungry. As he stripped off his
jacket, he caught a glimpse of his hands, bloody with the intoxicating aroma
of Slayer blood. Unaware that he was doing so, he brought a hand up to his
face to smell her; before he could stop himself, he touched a digit to his
lips and licked the blood from it. He closed his eyes and moaned, the taste
of her blood rich and strong, exhilarating; he lapped at the blood
frantically. It had been so long since he’d tasted human blood, and he didn’t
stop licking at the wonderful taste until his fingers were clean. Panting, he sat back on
his haunches, the blood haze clearing, and he realised with dawning horror
what he had done. He sat there, on the edge of the bank for a long time,
disgusted and ashamed of his behaviour. How could he face Buffy after this?
How could he trust himself with her? Finally, he stripped off
his blood-soaked clothing and washed them in the fast moving water. He stared
at his hands again. The blood was gone, but he could still smell her. Unclean. He took the soap and
scrubbing brush and scrubbed frantically at his hands until they bled. Unclean. Buffy looked up with
relief when he returned to the tent, but frowned when she caught his
expression. “I was getting worried,”
she told him. “What’s wrong?” “Everything’s fine,” he
growled at her. “Sounds like it.” Angel seemed to be
trying to keep his hands out of her line of vision, so before he could move
she snatched at one of them and studied it. She gasped when she saw the state
of his hand, and she looked up and saw the shame in his expression. She knew
what had happened. “Oh, Angel…” “Don’t,” he growled,
snatching his hand back, suddenly angry. “I don’t want your pity.” “I wasn’t…” Unable to look at her, Angel
grabbed a clean shirt and retreated from the tent. He couldn’t be with her
tonight, not when the demon was so close to the surface. Buffy followed him
outside, his behaviour worrying her. He sat on a log next to
the campfire, hunched over and with his head buried in his hands. Buffy went
over and sat beside him, careful not to brush against his body. She wanted to
comfort him, but she knew that he wouldn’t want her touch just yet. Angel didn’t move when
she sat next to him, and Buffy wished that she could think of something
really clever that would make him feel better. But she couldn’t, and they sat
together in awkward silence until Buffy tentatively said, “We all do things
we’re not proud of, Angel. We all slip sometimes.” Angel lifted his head
from his hands and stared silently at her. “You’re a good man,
Angel…” “I’m not a man at all,
am I?” he replied viciously. “I’m a thing, a monster in a man’s body. How can
you even bear to look at me?” “The demon isn’t you,
Angel.” Angel gave a grim
chuckle. “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? But it isn’t true, Buffy.
The demon is with me all the time. It was my
hands that killed Jenny Calender. . It was my hands that tortured Giles. My body that took helpless women
and…” “Don’t,” Buffy shuddered.
“Why are you saying these things to me?” “Because I have to make
you understand,” he replied harshly. “You can’t let your guard down with me,
Buffy. Ever. And you have to realise that you aren’t only in danger from the
demon.” Buffy frowned, not
understanding what he was trying to say. “Being with you…” Angel
hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “It’s so difficult being with you all the
time. The man in me wants to fuck you, and the demon wants to drain you.” He
saw her eyes widen at his revelation, but he continued doggedly on. “I can’t
do either, and it tears me apart.” Angel ran an anguished hand through his
hair. ”Sometimes… I need you so badly I want to forget all the rules, and
just take you.” Angel stood up, and
began to pace restlessly; Buffy stood too, and tried to calm him. “We can fight this
together, Angel,” Buffy reasoned, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.
“We can beat this.” Angel stopped pacing and
faced her. Without warning, he reached out and caught the back of her neck,
pulling her roughly toward him and leant in to kiss her harshly. He held her
there while he forced his tongue into her mouth, bruising her lips with his
abrasive actions. His other hand went round her back, hurting her when he
pulled her tightly against his body and ground himself against her; Buffy
whimpered, suddenly afraid.
Angel let go of her back and yanked at her shirt; he had it halfway
down her arms by the time she pulled free of his aggressive behaviour, and
glared angrily at him. Angel glared back at
her, and for a moment she was sure that she saw the glint of the demon’s
golden eyes; then it was gone, and Angel held her gaze unflinchingly before
backing away from her and disappearing into the night. Buffy pulled her shirt
back on with trembling hands. She was shaking as she watched Angel’s retreat
into the darkness. Her injured arm throbbed painfully, hurting her almost as
much as the ache in her heart. Knowing that she would
have to keep herself busy so that she didn’t dwell on how things were turning
out with Angel, Buffy took herself over to where he had left the creatures
that they’d caught. She busied herself with the skinning, it was an
unpleasant job but Buffy wasn’t squeamish and she tried to remember what
Angel had shown her. When it was all done,
and she had washed and put on clean clothes, she crawled exhausted into the
tent. But tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep, too worried about Angel. She
was half-dozing when he returned shortly before dawn. Wordlessly, he slipped
into his sleeping bag, turned away from her, and went to sleep. The following day, Buffy
tried to behave as though nothing had happened. But Angel was decidedly off
with her; he was polite enough, but he was very careful not to touch her at
all. Buffy hadn’t realised
how many times during the day that she normally felt the pleasure of his
touch. A brush of his fingers when he passed her something; A gentle hand on
her arm in response to a joke she told him; an affectionate pat on her rear
as she passed him. It all stopped, and she missed it terribly. On top of this, her arm
showed no sign of healing up. A couple of days later, Angel approached her.
Buffy watched him expectantly, excited that he was near her again. He still
hadn’t touched her, and her body ached for contact with him. “How’s the arm?” he
asked. “No better.” And then,
because she needed a response from him, she added, “I’m worried, Angel.” “I know.” He hesitated,
and then added, “I have an idea that might help. It’s a little drastic,
though.” Buffy studied his sober
expression. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like it?” “Because you aren’t going to like it,” he replied
bluntly. Buffy swallowed nervously.
“Go on.” Angel drew an oblong tin
from his pocket. He carefully removed the lid and held it out to her. She
flinched when she looked inside and saw the squirming contents. “Euw,” she exclaimed in
disgust. “Maggots…so?” Angel said nothing, just
watched her and waited for her to get it. He knew the exact moment that she
understood, because her expression changed from confusion to one of horror. “You have got to be kidding me!” “I think it might help.” “No! You are not
bringing those things near me!” Angel replaced the lid
on the tin before saying, “I can’t make you, Buffy. But you know that it
should have healed up before now, and we’ve tried everything else that we can
think of.” “But they’re so… gross.” Angel heard the change
in her tone and knew that she was wavering. “Your choice. How worried are
you?” Long moments passed
before she reluctantly mumbled, “Okay. But… will you do it, please? I don’t
really want to…” Angel agreed, and Buffy
watched with trepidation as he pushed up her sleeve to work on her arm. Buffy
shivered at his touch, aware that it was a sad state of affairs when she
craved him even when he was doing something horrible to her. Angel moved round, using
his body to block her view of what he was doing. He removed the dressing and
tidied up the wound; he then took off the lid from the tin. Buffy tensed at
the sound, the muscles in her arm going rigid with fear. “Easy,” Angel told her.
“This won’t hurt.” “God, I hope not. You
will count them won’t you, Angel? I don’t want to lose any of them in there.” “You won’t lose…” he
sighed. “I’m counting them now.” Buffy held her arm
rigidly as he finished what he was doing and bound the wound up with a clean
dressing. “What now?” she
squeaked, desperately trying not to think about the maggots crawling and
wriggling all over her arm. Her stomach lurched in disgust, and she fought
the urge to violently expel her breakfast. “We wait.” They waited forty-eight
hours, and Angel repeated the process in reverse. Buffy fidgeted as he
removed the bandage and extracted the maggots. He figured that she probably
hated him at that very moment. “Make sure you’ve got
them all,” she begged. “What does it look like?” Angel’s face was
expressionless. “Take a look.” He said. Slowly, fearfully, she
bent her arm to examine the injury. All the nasty inflamed flesh was gone,
replaced by healthy new skin, and Buffy stared at it in amazement. “But that… Oh, Angel,
thank you!” Smiling happily, she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him
tightly. Angel froze. Then, just as Buffy began to feel uncomfortable and
started to pull back, Angel’s arms encircled her and he held her
tightly. Buffy buried her face in
his neck as she hugged him. “God, Angel… I’ve missed you.” “I haven’t been
anywhere,” he replied, a little stiffly. Buffy pulled back sadly.
Things were still not right between them then. Angel’s eyes met hers for a
brief moment, before he looked away. Much to Buffy’s disappointment,
the bug interlude had not helped the tension between them. Angel still kept
his distance, but apart from that, life carried on as usual with the normal
round of moving the base camp to a new location and hunting for both food and
skins. Buffy was fed up, and
while hunting one night she tried to coax Angel out of the dark mood he was
in. Deciding that the best way was to distract him, she dredged up all the
things she could think of to say and chattered to him. His mood got darker.
Buffy decided to admit defeat. “Okay,” she announced.
“I’m shutting up, now.” “That would be good,”
Angel said tightly. Buffy glared at him.
“Does my talking bother you,
Angel?” “Well, I…” “Does someone actually
speaking annoy you?” “I…” “Because, you know, I
think it’s way better than
sulking.” “I don’t sulk.” He said
defensively. “Brood then. ‘Cos you’re
a real master at the brooding… you’ve got it down to a fine art. Angel The
Master Brooder. My very own brooding pain in the ass.” “That can be arranged,”
Angel muttered darkly. Angrily, Buffy snapped,
“Oh wow… that’s some threat…” “It wasn’t a…” “…from you, Angel. You can’t even…” Buffy stopped, her
eyes widening with horror when she realised what she had almost said. “I can’t even what?” “Nothing.” She mumbled
uncomfortably. “No. If you have
something to say, say it.” “I have nothing to say,”
Buffy retorted. “I talk too much, remember?” Angel rolled his eyes.
“God, Buffy. Are you trying to be
annoying?” “You think I’m annoying?
Well, it’s nice to know what you think of me!” Pride made Buffy turn
away; tears prickling uninvited at her eyes, and she didn’t want Angel to see
them. Angel instinctively
reached out a hand to stop her, and, feeling under threat, Buffy retaliated
in the only way she knew how, and lashed out with her hand. But it was a
clumsy punch, born from hurt rather than a need to hurt. Angel blocked it
calmly, and held on to her wrist firmly. When he didn’t release it, Buffy was
forced to look at him. The connection their eyes made was electric; Buffy
launched herself at Angel, flinging her free arm round his neck and joining
with him in a passionate kiss. Angel released her arm,
and spanning his hands across her back, dragged her toward him in a crushing
embrace that would have left a normal woman with serious internal bruising. Angel moved forward,
steering Buffy backwards until she found herself sandwiched between a
convenient tree and Angel’s broad body… and all without breaking the kiss. Buffy gasped; she had
been without his touch for so long that her body ached for him. Angel’s lips slid from hers, kissing
her throat, her neck, her ears and everywhere that he could reach in a frenzy
of passion. Buffy moaned loudly,
everywhere that Angel touched left her skin burning with want. It had been
days since she’d had any contact with him at all, and her soul yearned for
completion. Angel surrounded her, invading her senses with his arms, his
scent, his urgent kisses that scalded her lips and inflamed her. Pulling away from the
searing kiss and making Angel grunt with frustration, Buffy lowered her head
and latched on to the soft skin of his neck. He muttered something
unintelligible, instinctively gripping the back of her neck to hold her in
place, and forcing her to suckle at his throat. Shuddering, Angel yanked
Buffy’s head from his throat and kissed her savagely. Too excited to think of anything
except being inside her, he pulled impatiently at her skirt, hoisting it up
and out of his way. Buffy wriggled out of
her underwear and kicked them away. While she did that, Angel unlaced his new
pants, moved forward and bent at the knees to kill the height discrepancy. He
entered her and pushed in to the hilt in one swift movement, making them both
gasp with the sensation of being together again after so long. Angel pulled back and
rammed home repeatedly, making Buffy whimper with each brutal thrust. He
didn’t give a damn about technique or finesse, he just wanted to bury himself
deep inside her, and Buffy ground herself against him as best she could. Finally, Angel’s head
went back as he gave a long drawn out moan, and came violently inside her.
For long moments they stood together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Angel
buried his face against her neck, just so that he could smell her. When they pulled apart,
it was with awkwardness, and they were unable to meet each other’s eyes.
Angel knew that he should apologise to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to
do that, because he just wasn’t
sorry. “Are you all right?” he
asked instead. “Just peachy,” she
replied sadly. Angel hesitated, not
certain what he should say to her. In the end, he said uncomfortably, “We
should get back to the hunting.” Buffy looked as though
he’d slapped her, and he figured he had probably said the wrong thing. Stupid. She
told herself angrily. You think that
because he had sex with you that it meant something? That he cared? He’s a
man, isn’t he? “I guess so,” she
replied defiantly, desperately trying to hide her hurt. She pushed past him
to continue with the task at hand. The hunt was conducted in strained
silence, as was the trip back to camp. Buffy excused herself, washed up and
went to bed. Angel said goodnight in a gruff tone, and Buffy was glad to
escape the tense atmosphere between them. As Angel went past the
tent later that night, he paused outside when he heard the sound of gentle
weeping. Crap. His instinct was to
go to her and offer his comfort. But he realised that it would be a huge
mistake; that it would probably make things a whole lot worse. He returned to
the woods, far enough away that he couldn’t hear her, and berated himself for
the appalling way that he’d treated her. The next day Angel tried
to ignore the fact that her eyes were red and swollen, and that she looked
spent from spending half the night crying her eyes out. The time that they
had to spend together was a nightmare, and it was a relief for both of them
when Buffy took herself off to bed. Against his better
judgement, Angel found himself drifting toward the tent. He could hear her
again, and it broke his heart; especially since he knew that he had caused
her pain. He knew that he should retreat to the woods, but he couldn’t seem
to make himself move, and when his body finally activated itself, it was to
go toward her. He crawled in beside her
anguished form, and wrapped his arms round her. “Ssh,” he crooned. “It’s
okay, Buffy. I’m so sorry, sshhhh…” He rocked her against
his chest, rubbing her back and kissing her hair. She raised her face up to
his, and before he knew what was happening, he was kissing her, a desperate
kiss, full of passion and tears. He groaned, easing her
back against the bedroll, and moving closer to cover her body with his. His
knee pressed between her thighs, pushing them apart, and his hands wrestled
with her clothing, pulling away the barriers to her body. A voice in his
subconscious, insistent and damned annoying, began to argue with him. This is wrong. Fuck off. You can’t do this. Wanna bet? You can’t treat her like this. Damn it! Using all his strength, he wrenched
himself away from her, and sat back heavily on his haunches, breathing hard. “Angel?” Buffy was looking at him in confusion,
and Angel shook his head. He began edging backwards, putting distance between
them; shame and frustration making him angry. “Where are you going?” Buffy asked,
not understanding his sudden departure. “To kill something,” he replied
savagely, and withdrew from the tent. Buffy watched him go, and said sadly,
“Make that two somethings.” After that, Angel avoided her
completely. They stopped hunting together, and although he still cooked her
food for her, they kept contact down to an absolute minimum. He was pleased
that she had apparently stopped crying herself to sleep, but she did start to
become very secretive. One night, he caught her guiltily
slipping a little white parcel under her pillow. He didn’t ask what it was,
and she didn’t tell him. The little parcel made several furtive appearances
but was always gone by the time he commandeered the tent for the daylight
hours. It began to rankle him; it was so unlike her, and she was so secretive
about it that he found himself wondering what the hell it was. It’s a sex toy. He thought. She’s
going in there every night and… Jeez. Get
your mind out of the gutter! He told himself irritably. She’s not doing that.
Probably. So what did that leave? Why was she
trying to hide it from him? The answer was glaringly obvious, and he didn’t
like it one bit. It’s a gift from someone who wasn’t you. His back
tensed up jealously at the unwanted thought. Riley Finn. His gut clenched in anger. Whatever the gift was,
it was important enough to her that she brought it with her on this mission. And just why are you surprised that she’s turned
toward the memory of someone who probably hasn’t hurt her as much as you
have? She must think you’ve rejected her. Angel growled resentfully at the
thought of her gaining comfort from another man. Even if the man wasn’t
actually there, he was still upset at the prospect. The little package was
driving him nuts, and he really wanted to know what it was. Late one evening, Buffy had turned in,
and he was sitting close by the tent carving some wooden spears to use for
the hunting. Buffy was restless, and eventually took off into the woods to
answer the call of nature. That left the tent – and hopefully the package –
unattended. Moving vampire fast, he was inside the tent and sliding his hand
under the pillow to where he hoped that she had stashed it. He knew damn well it was stupid, that
he should respect her privacy. But he was so jealous at the idea that another
man comforted her when he couldn’t, that he just had to know. What was it that she valued so
highly? His hand closed on the soft parcel,
and he cautiously drew it out. He carefully peeled back the edges of the
white cloth, and slowly unwrapped the contents. There, with a frayed ear,
mildewed foot and revealed in all his pink and grubby glory, was Mr. Gordo. Oh, Buffy…. Angel stared at the stuffed pig for
several moments before carefully wrapping it up again and placing it back
exactly where he had found it. He returned to his carving, so that when Buffy
returned a few minutes later he looked for all the world like he hadn’t moved
an inch. He watched her approach with new
eyes. She looked worn down, and
he realised that he hadn’t seen her smile in a very long time. Christ, did I do that to her? As she plodded wearily past, Angel
said quietly, “Good night, Buffy.” She didn’t look up, but she did mumble
something incoherent and scrambled into the tent. Away from him. Angel stared after her in concern. I’ve really messed things up this time. I have to make
things right with her… I just wish I knew how. The following morning, Buffy slowly
surfaced from the welcome oblivion of sleep. She stretched, smelling the
breakfast that Angel was preparing her, but she wasn’t really very hungry.
Again. She turned over, and her eyes widened.
A delicate white flower lay on the edge of her pillow, and she pushed up on
her elbow to get a better view of it. As she did that, her gaze fell on the
pile of orange fruit that lay next to her bed. She reached for one of the
Prickly Oranges with a bemused expression on her face. A smile suddenly
appeared, and she scrambled out of bed. She pulled on her pants and a shirt
and wriggled from the tent. Angel was pegging some of his clothes
up in the line to dry, and he looked round when she emerged. “Hey,” he said warily. “Hey yourself,” she grinned. “Thanks
for the flower… and the fruit.” “You’re welcome,” he replied. “Buffy…
we need to talk.” “So, talk,” she said. “I hear people
do it all the time.” Angel winced. He took a deep breath,
and said, “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For being an asshole.” He replied
bluntly, and was gratified to see Buffy’s mouth quirk into a tiny smile. “I
never meant to hurt you, you know.” “You never do,” she said sadly. “So
what do we do now?” Angel shifted uncomfortably, and said,
“I thought… maybe it would be best if I moved on.” Buffy stared at him in horror. “That’s your answer? Leaving me
again?” She glared at him. “Is it what you want to do?” “It might be for the best.” “Is it what you want?” she said
sharply. “No.” He admitted. “Then stay, work with me on this.
Angel… you can’t run off every time things get a little tricky.” “I don’t call wanting to kill you ‘a
little tricky’,” he replied dryly “For us, it is.” She replied. “You have to trust me,
Angel. You have to let me help you.” “I do trust you, Buffy.” He said,
soberly. “It’s me that I don’t.” “Angel… before we came here you
promised that we would work together. Didn’t you mean it? I…. I understand
that you don’t want me but I can help you.” Angel blinked. “What?” “I can help you with…” “Not that.” He broke in. “You think I don’t want you?” “It…it’s okay,” she mumbled, blushing
a little. “I can’t really blame you, considering…” Angel moved toward her. “What are you
talking about?” Buffy looked up as Angel arrived in
front of her, and squirmed a little under his penetrating gaze. She took a
deep breath and said, “You don’t have to pretend that you still love me.” “My god, Buffy.” Angel said in horror.
“You doubted that?” Buffy gulped as Angel closed the
distance between them, his arms tightly encircling her. “I never stopped
loving you, Buffy. I’m sorry if you believed that.” Buffy clung to him, her
arms wrapped so tightly round him that if he’d been human he figured he would
probably have lost a rib or two. Gently, he rubbed her back and rubbed his
face against her hair, waiting for her to extract herself from his arms. When
she pulled back, he said, “What
made you think I didn’t love you? I’d have thought my recent behaviour proved
otherwise.” Buffy swallowed. “You
haven’t been near me in ages; you’ve made no attempt to touch me, or kiss me…
and I…I thought…” “It’s because I wanted
you that I’ve kept away.” Angel told her. “I thought you understood that.” “But, I… I’m… dirty…”
Buffy mumbled. Angel stared at her. “Do
you want to explain that?” Buffy looked sadly up at
him. “Look around you, Angel. How am I supposed to keep myself clean in these
primitive conditions? I don’t have any of the things I want to feel good, my
skin is dry and sore; all I have to put on it is the oil we use for cooking,
and then I just smell like a fast food place. My hair’s like straw and it’s
got loads of split ends, and…” Angel held up a hand in
mock surrender. “Whoa,” he interrupted her. “It doesn’t matter, Buffy. None
of that matters.” “It matters to me,”
Buffy grumbled. Angel tucked a wispy
strand of hair gently back behind her ear. “It feels fine, Buffy. And you
aren’t dirty, either. I’ve seen you struggle to maintain your standards here
when many others might have given up. I’ve seen you wash your hair in
freezing water that made you cry with the cold; I’ve seen you scrub your
clothes down by the river for hours to get the blood and dirt from them, and
your hands have been so sore that they’ve bled. I don’t call that dirty.” Buffy shrugged. “Right,
and bleeding skin is so sexy, isn’t it?” He took her hand again
and stepped back. He wanted her to go with him, but suddenly apprehensive,
Buffy said, “What’s going on?” “I’m going to do what I
should have a long time ago,” Angel told her with a small smile. “I’m going
to make love to you.” Buffy froze. “But… we
can’t…” “I can’t.” He corrected her. “There’s a difference.” Buffy stared at him with
an expression that was akin to wonder; and Angel glanced wistfully at the
sky. He would have preferred to do this outside, but it was too dangerous,
too close to the dawn, and he led her to the tent. He paused for a moment to
move Buffy’s roasting breakfast back from the heat, and at her enquiring look
he explained with a knowing smirk, “This could take a while.” Buffy followed him into
the tent with a bemused expression on her face. Angel’s words had excited
her, and her mind ran through a dozen possible scenarios as they knelt close
together on Buffy's bedroll. The touch of Angel's
fingers as they traced over her cheekbone made Buffy sigh with contentment.
The fingers trailed back, sliding through her hair, and Angel gently drew her
forward, caressing her lips with his own. She opened her mouth immediately,
searching for him with her tongue; but Angel pulled back just far enough to
murmur, "Let's take this slow…" "Want…" Buffy
moaned, "I want…" "I know."
Angel assured her, carefully laying her back against the soft sleeping bag,
his mouth still joined with hers in an endless army of smooth kisses. ***************** "Oh, god,
Angel…." She breathed; her fingers curling in the hair at the back of
his neck, as her body shivered in appreciation at the way his gentle kisses
aroused her. It seemed as though
Angel's lips were everywhere, nibbling at her throat, sucking on her earlobe,
stroking her skin, and caressing her face. When he unlaced her shirt and
pulled it slowly from her body, his mouth was there too, worshipping each
little piece of exposed and deprived skin. He kissed her
everywhere, trailing kisses down her limbs, her shoulders, and her torso. By
the time he reached her breasts, she was urgently arching her body toward his
intrepid mouth and tantalising tongue. "Please." She
begged, "Oh, please…." But Angel refused to be
hurried. He lapped round the sensitive underskin of her breast, tracing the womanly
curve and tasting every inch of her. When he took the swollen nipple into his
mouth, she cried out with the sheer sensual pleasure of it. She convulsed
against him as he suckled at the swollen peak before moving to the second
breast and claiming that one, too. He moved slowly down,
peeling off her pants and underwear, even her boots, until she lay naked and
helpless underneath him. Buffy was almost incoherent with passion, pushing at
his head and trying to make him go where she needed him. He ignored it all,
taking the same meticulous care with her stomach and legs as he had with the
rest of her. Finally he worked his
way back up her legs to end up at the nest of curls at the top of her thighs.
Using his thumbs, he gently opened her, lapping at the moisture that lived
there, and carefully exploring all her little sensitive and secret places.
Buffy convulsed again and wrapped her thighs round his head, effectively
keeping him prisoner. But he was so caught up in giving her pleasure, and so
aroused himself, that he hardly noticed what she was doing. When Angel reached the
hard bundle of nerves, he swirled his tongue round the sensitive tissue
before taking it in his mouth and sucking gently. Buffy screamed as her body
found sweet release under Angel's experienced administration. He brought her
to a fierce climax, over and over again, until he was finally left with an
exhausted mass of jellified Slayer in his arms. He scooted up her body,
taking her in his arms and holding her close. Stroking her bare arms gently,
he leant forward and nuzzled playfully at her neck. Buffy moaned happily, and
Angel raised himself up to observe her. “I really do love you,
you know.” He told her, his attention focused on the soft curve of her mouth;
but he hesitated to kiss her, not certain if she would want to taste herself
on his lips. “I guess you just proved
that.” Buffy replied, when a mischievous grin spread across her face. “But
maybe you’d better apologise some more.” More than happy to
oblige, Angel captured her mouth with a kiss that stole her breath away.
Afterwards, not wanting her to get dressed again, he pulled his bedroll
across them and covered her up. Sated, warm and happy, she curled herself
round his frame and drifted into a deep and contented sleep. Angel watched her sleep,
his emotions knotted and complex. More than anything else, he realised how
much he’d missed her. He hadn’t wanted to cut her out, but he had been so
afraid of hurting her that he hadn’t known what else to do. What would happen
now? Would things go back to the way that they had been, or had this morning
changed everything? Buffy stirred, and
opened her eyes. She looked confused at first, but then her gaze settled on
Angel and her relaxed smile warmed him. “I thought I’d dreamt
you,” she said in wonder. “I’m real,” he assured
her, lazily stroking a hand down over her stomach. Buffy sighed, squirming in
his embrace. “Angel?” “Hmm?” he replied
absently. “I think… maybe we’ve
been going about this curse thing the wrong way.” That got his attention,
and his hand froze. “In what way?” “Maybe… instead of
trying to avoid each other, we should… do other things.” “I don’t know, Buffy.”
Angel frowned. “It’s still dangerous for us.” “Well, “ Buffy said, “Abstaining
didn’t work out too well either, did it?” “No, but… there’s a
difference between making love to you once and incorporating sexual activity
into our daily lives.” “I think we should try.”
Buffy explained. “It would help relieve tension for both of us.” “It might also release
Angelus.” He said bluntly. Buffy sighed. “I’m
talking about a blow job here, Angel. It’s not going to give you perfect happiness.” Angel was silent for a
very long time, and Buffy was beginning to wonder if he was going to answer
her. Then, he reluctantly said, “All right. But on two conditions.” “Which are?” “That you do just enough
to relieve me, Buffy. No frills, no extras.” Buffy pouted. “That
sounds boring.” “I mean it.” He warned.
“I won’t consider it otherwise.” “Okay,” she agreed.
“What’s the other thing?” Angel hesitated.
“There’ll be times when one of us will be weak, and want full penetration. It
will then be up to the other one to be strong for them.” He studied her
expression before adding, “Can we do that?” “I can be strong.” She
promised. “If you try to make me, I’ll kick your ass.” “We understand each
other, then,” he said with satisfaction. “That’s good.” Buffy sealed the deal
with a kiss, for the first time excited about their future. But would they be
able to restrain themselves? The arrangement worked
better than they had anticipated. By allowing some interaction, it lowered
the severity of their sexual tension, though of course didn’t eliminate it
altogether. It helped that Angel was experienced, and he was able to
introduce Buffy to several new variations. Her favourite of these was mutual
oral sex, especially when she had the upper position and could control how
deeply she took him. Angel told her that the French referred to it as
soixante-neuf, but because it could be very intense it wasn’t something he
would allow them to do very often. They were both relieved
to be back on good terms again, and the general pattern of life resumed. One night they came upon
a small village; Buffy and Angel debated whether to visit or avoid it. In the
end, they decided on a compromise and made their camp on a rocky hill close
by, and watched what was going on. At night there was
little activity, but during the day Buffy watched the day-to-day happenings
in the small community with interest. She began to realise how much she
missed seeing people. As much as she loved Angel, he wasn’t really the best
of company in some ways, and she particularly missed interaction with others
of her own age. They stayed close to the
village for a couple of weeks, and one day Buffy’s curiosity was aroused by
unusual activity in the village square. Wagons and people began arriving, and
setting up tables and flowers out in the open. What’s going on? A festival perhaps? A wedding?
Perhaps it’s a… “It’s a market.” She
told Angel later. “They’re setting up stalls and goods and everything. Loads
of people are coming from all over, and it looks real exciting.” “Are you going?” he
asked. “I want to.” She said
enthusiastically. “Do you think it’ll be okay? I don’t want to gatecrash a
private party.” “I don’t know, Buffy. I
don’t know any more about this place than you do. But… just be careful,
okay?” “You know me.” “That’s what worries
me,” he replied deadpan, and earnt himself a slap on the arm. “Take the skins
and the money with you, perhaps you can trade them.” “Okay.” She agreed. She
gathered up several of the skins, and stashed the currency in a small purse
that she’d bought from home. When she was ready, and Angel was amused that
she insisted on washing her hair before she went, she kissed him, listened
impatiently to his lecture on being careful, and departed. Buffy was away for
hours. Angel tried to sleep, but he wasn’t very successful due to his concern
for Buffy. Finally, he heard her familiar approach to the tent and he
breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. Buffy crawled into the
tent and Angel was instantly aware of the change in her. She was smiling. “Hey.” She grinned at
him, wrapping her arms round his neck and kissing him passionately. What has she been eating? “Did you have a nice
time?” he asked, when she came up for air. “Yeah, “ she confirmed,
sitting comfortably next to him, and Angel noticed all the packages that she
had with her. “It was amazing.” She tried to describe
everything that she had seen so that Angel would feel a part of the
experience that she’d had. She explained that they sold all kinds of goods at
the market and that the people were very friendly. “It was like an open air
trading place, only cheaper. I think those places really ripped us off, you
know?” she said indignantly. Angel had suspected as much, but they’d had no
other way of obtaining goods. “Looks like you’ve made
up for it,” he smiled, indicating the parcels. “Er… yes.” She said
uncomfortably. “Angel, I… think I spent all our money.” “We’ll make more,” he
replied, entranced by her excited demeanour. He couldn’t remember the last time
he’d seen her so animated. “You’d better show me what you’ve bought.” The gorgeous smile was
back, melting his heart, and if she got to look like that, he didn’t give a
damn what she bought. Diving into her
purchases, Buffy eagerly showed him all the goods she’d bought, a lot of
standard stuff like salt, oil and soap; a coffee substitute, which Buffy
hoped was going to be better than the vile Grak, and a sweet smelling jar
that apparently held shampoo – and this, Buffy was very excited about. She
had bought other food items, too. Several soft round loaves of bread, that
she assured him tasted much better than the stuff she usually had to eat,
jars of herbs for cooking, odd looking vegetables that she’d had to ask the stallholder
how to use them, and a scrunched bag that she produced with a flourish. “And these.” She grinned, diving her hand into the
bag and pulling out a small reddish square. She insisted on popping a piece
into Angel’s mouth, and he recognised it as the taste he’d noticed on her
earlier. “It’s called, Tai. Isn’t it wonderful?” “Wonderful,” he agreed.
In truth, he could hardly taste it at all, but Buffy was well aware of his
limited taste buds. She wanted to share her happiness with him, and he wasn’t
about to spoil her good mood over it. Buffy ate a piece
herself, then wiped her hands and opened another parcel. All of the parcels
were wrapped in very thin gauzy fabrics or large leathery leaves. Buffy
carefully unwrapped another package and held the contents up for him to see. “I got a dress,” she
explained. The sand coloured dress appeared to be made of very soft buckskin,
or similar, with long sleeves and beautiful flower embroidery down the front.
Beige laces decorated both sides of the waist, to give shape and definition. Buffy hugged the dress
to her and said, “They said that they have these markets every couple of
months, Angel, and some of them are even at night, which means you could come
too.” She hesitated, and added, “Could we stay here? Just for a while? I
really want to see some more of those markets…” “We can stay as long as
you want to, Buffy,” he assured her. “Great.” She hesitated
again, and then reached for the final parcel. “I got something for you.” Angel took the offered
parcel awkwardly. He wasn’t comfortable with people giving him gifts, not
that it happened that often. But Cordelia used to surprise him sometimes, and
he always found it embarrassing, believing himself to be unworthy of any
token of affection. Slowly he unwrapped the thin gauze and held up the
garment that lurked inside. It was a shirt, made of the same soft skin as
Buffy’s dress, but a dark tan in colour, and with lacing down the front. “It was the darkest
colour they had,” Buffy apologised. “I don’t think they use black here.” Angel swallowed. “It’s
lovely, Buffy… thank you.” Buffy smiled at the
obvious emotion in his voice, and she could tell that he liked it. She
suddenly stripped off her shirt and slipped her new dress over her head. Angel
was pleased that she was no longer shy with him, and she turned toward him,
carefully seating herself on his lap, and raising her arms up. “Will you do my
lacings?” Due to the lack of
modern fastenings, all the local clothing were fastened by leather or fabric
lacings, and most of the clothes came in basic sizes. Tightening the laces to
snuggle and contour the body attained a good fit, but it was usually
necessary to get a second party to help with the fitting process. Angel pulled the lacings
firmly against her body, she didn’t like them too tight, and by now, he was
experienced enough at the task to achieve it quickly. “Looks good,” he told
her, appreciatively running his hands down over her waist and hips. Buffy
leant forward, deliberately squirming on his lap, and kissed him deeply. “I’ve had a wonderful
day,” she confided in him when the kiss ended. She was still rocking her hips
against him, making him grunt as he held her hips firmly to keep them still.
Buffy grinned; she knew exactly what effect she was having on him. “And now,
I want to make yours wonderful as well.” I like this village. Angel thought as she shimmied backwards and
deftly untied the lacings on his pants. And
I haven’t even been there, yet. In between the markets,
they busied themselves with the hunting. They were able to obtain a better
price for their skins at the village, and the goods they bought were also
much cheaper and had more variety than at the trading post. When it became clear
that Buffy was in no mood to move on in the foreseeable future, Angel
suggested that they build themselves a small cabin to replace the cramped
confines of the tent. Buffy was thrilled with the idea; she felt it would be
like having their first place together, and they began the hard work of
building it. On the third day after
work began Buffy woke to find her muscles protesting at the unaccustomed
activity. “I hope it’ll be worth
It,” she grumbled sleepily to Angel. There was no reply, and Buffy’s eyes
snapped open as she rolled over to see if he was all right. His bedroll was
empty. Her gaze flicked towards the outdoors… it was daylight outside “Angel!” she shrieked,
pulling on her clothes and heading outside. Angel always cooked her breakfast for her, but he hadn’t even started
it yet and there was nothing roasting over the heat. “Angel!” Buffy searched for
hours, but there was no sign of him anywhere. How will I know if he’s dead? There won’t be any
body… how will I know? She was
panicking, but part of her was convinced that she would know if something had
happened to him. She returned several
times to the tent in case he had returned there somehow. He was nowhere to be
found, and Buffy didn’t know what to do. In the afternoon, she had an idea
and made her way down to the village for help. It was the first time she had
ever visited it without a market in progress, and she was apprehensive. She passed through the
village largely unnoticed by the native inhabitants. One or two nodded
politely, but on the whole they kept to themselves. Buffy didn’t know where
to go. She had no idea if they had law enforcement, or rescue services; but
then, did Angel need rescuing? What she wanted was to find him, and she
fought down the inappropriate urge to giggle at the foolish thought of him
turning up in lost property. “Buffy?” Buffy spun at the sound
of the voice, and recognized the dark haired girl from the market. “Neenha,
isn’t it?” “Yes.” The girl gave her
a friendly smile. “What brings you down here today? Supplies?” “No…” Buffy hesitated,
not certain how much to reveal. “I have a bit of a problem.” The other girl looked
concerned. “Is there anything I can do?” “My… partner didn’t come
home last night, and I’m worried that he might have had an accident or
something.” Or be a huge pile of dust… “You
haven’t seen any strangers about, have you?” “I’m sorry, no. Did you
have a fight?” “Oh, no…it was nothing
like that,” Buffy hastened to assure her. “It’s just that he’s never done it
before… and I…” “You’re worried,” Neenha
supplied, considering the options. “It will be dark soon; if he has not
returned by tomorrow I will see if I can organise a search for your man.
Don’t worry Buffy. He will turn up.” “Thank you.” Buffy felt
out of place in the village and her instinct was to look for Angel now. But it was comforting that these
people might be persuaded to help her. “Come.” Neenha said,
placing a friendly hand on her arm. “Sit for a while, and I can bring you
food… or a drink?” Buffy wasn’t at all
hungry, concerned as she was by Angel’s disappearance. But she was thirsty,
and she allowed Neenha to take her into one of the buildings that stood close
by. This turned out to be a sort of communal meeting place, and Buffy watched
as her new friend poured a hot liquid into some earthenware beakers. Taking the beakers to an
empty wooden table, the girls talked for a while, and to Buffy it was nice to
speak to another girl, albeit one from another dimension. Neenha explained
that the drink was a herbal infusion, designed to enhance well-being, and
Buffy both enjoyed the taste of the drink and the boost to her senses that it
gave her. She dawdled a little with the drink, waiting for night to fall,
knowing that it was her best chance of finding Angel. “Well,” Buffy said when
the beverage had gone. “I’d best be getting back… maybe Angel’s come home.” “You shouldn’t go out by
yourself at night, Buffy.” Neenha said worriedly. “I think you should stay in
the village until morning.” “I’ll be fine.” Buffy
insisted, amused by the notion of having to stay in at night. “I can look
after myself. But, thanks for the concern.” Both girls stood up and
made for the door. As they stepped outside, there was a commotion from the
other side of the village. Judging by the look on Neenha’s face, she had no
idea what had caused it, and together they hurried over to have a look. A large gathering of
villagers had something cornered behind one of the buildings. The something
was huddled against the wall, and growling angrily at its audience. Several
of the men held sticks, swords and other weapons and were lunging and poking
at the trapped beast. Buffy pushed past the
gathered villagers, and forced a path through the armed men. One of them
tried to stop her, but she shook him off easily, snatching his sword on
route, and found herself out in front of them, facing the beast. It was
Angel. He was pressed hard
against the wall, glaring and growling warningly at anyone who tried to
approach him. “Angel?” Buffy said
softly, taking a step toward him. He glared at her, and for the first time
she realised he was in full vamp face. “I won’t hurt you.” He growled menacingly at
her; he looked wild and confused, and one of the men tried to stop her draw
near him. “I can handle him,” she
told them with more bravado than she felt. “Just don’t interfere. Whatever
happens.” She took a tentative
step toward Angel. He glared at her, and took a sideways step along the wall
and away from her. He was looking suspiciously at her sword, and Buffy
realised that he was afraid of it. Very slowly, she held
the sword away from her body, making sure it was pointing away from Angel.
Then she dropped the sword to the ground; some of the men started toward her
but Buffy held up her hand and said, “Don’t.” The men stopped
uncertainly. Angel relaxed visibly when she dropped the weapon, and Buffy
took another step toward him. He didn’t move, but he was tense as he watched
her slow approach. He made a sudden lunge toward her; Buffy could have evaded
it easily, but she let him twist her round and slam her against the wall. Angel held her still,
and stared curiously at her. “Don’t leave me here,”
she said softly, making no attempt to stop her silent tears. Things had been going well for them
lately, and Buffy couldn’t bear the thought that she might still lose him.
“Angel… what happened to you?” Angel maintained his
grip on her. She was making sounds, but he didn’t understand her. He wondered
why her face was wet, and she smelled so… what? He was confused, but he
wasn’t afraid of her. In some way she belonged to him, but he couldn’t quite
grasp how. Her face was wetter, and she was trying to touch his face. He let
her, though he wasn’t sure why. Buffy was sobbing openly
now; Angel was making no attempt to hurt her, but all her muscles were ready
for action if necessary. Some deep instinct made
Angel trust her. Her scent was strong, and… familiar, and it tugged at something inside him. She was
sad, and he wrapped his arms round her and pulled her closer. “Angel?” she asked
hopefully. “B…Buffy?” he didn’t
know where the name came from, but it was familiar, and his rattled
subconscious grabbed hold of it and held on. I know her… she’s Buffy…my Buffy… Looking around, Angel
tried to understand what had upset her. Lots of people surrounded them,
holding weapons, and Angel growled at them to stay away. He would not let
them hurt her. Buffy looked up at him
and continued to stroke his face. “It’s okay,” she told him. “They won’t hurt
you.” As she watched, Angel’s
vampire visage slowly receded, and left his smooth human face behind. A stir
went through the crowd when they observed his transformation, but they made
no move toward them. “What happened?” Buffy
whispered. “I… don’t remember.”
Angel replied uncertainly, a frown marring his features. “It’s okay,” Buffy
reassured him, and caught a glimpse of the frightened villagers. “Guess I’d
better introduce you.” Taking Angel’s hand
carefully, and moving slowly so as not to startle him, she led him toward the
villagers. “My name is Buffy,” she
told them slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve met some of you before,
when I’ve visited your markets. I’m not a resident here, I only came today
because I was looking for my partner.” She glanced at Angel, and was pleased
that he looked more like his usual self. “Guess I found him.” “He’s a monster,” one of
the men shouted, waving a stick at her. “He’s a man.” Buffy
contradicted him. Angel stirred, and Buffy clasped his hand tightly to keep
him quiet. She smiled a little ruefully. “He’s not normally so… angry.” Buffy hesitated, not
knowing what to do next. Someone began pushing through the crowd, and Neenha
arrived at the front of the throng. “This is your partner?” she said, a little incredulously. “This is Angel,” she
confirmed. “Look, do you think we can sit down for a bit? He’s not really
himself right now.” Neenha took them to another
of the communal meeting places, and presented them with some more of the
pleasant herbal tea. Buffy shooed most of the villagers away, but allowed
Neenha to stay with them. She watched as Angel picked up his tea, and noticed
that although he appeared to be calm, his hand trembled and the tea lapped at
the edges of the beaker. “What’s the last thing
that you remember?” Buffy asked. Angel frowned. “I… was…
hunting.” The confusion on his face was evident, as he added, “I caught my
prey, and then… I was here.” “What were you hunting?”
Neenha asked. Angel shrugged. “Not
something I’m familiar with. It had four legs, dark brown coat, and had a
tiny horn over the nose.” “Did it have red eyes?”
Neenha asked. “I believe so,” Angel
replied, sipping at his tea. “Is that relevant?” “It sounds like a
Kervak.” The girl said. “Okay,” Buffy said.
“I’ll play. What’s a Kervak?” “For most of the year, a
Kervak has a white coat and brown eyes, and is good for eating. This time of
year, the colour of the eyes and coat changes, and the meat is inedible,
tainted by bad blood. It can have serious side effects, but I’ve never seen
anyone react like you.” “Is it permanent?” Buffy
asked. “Oh, no, the effects
wear off after a few hours. But they usually consist of sickness and stomach
pains, not… uh… changing into something… uh…” “It’s okay,” Buffy said,
taking pity on her new friend. But she wondered how much she ought to reveal,
and how would Neenha take it? “The Kervak didn’t do that. All of Angel’s… people
can… change. But he doesn’t usually lose control like that.” The girl stared
curiously at Angel. “Forgive my curiosity, but… does it hurt to change like
that?” “This time it did.”
Angel grimaced. “But, usually no. It’s just something my people can do when
necessary.” “Can you do it?” Neenha
asked Buffy. “No. I’m… from a
different tribe. My people don’t change.” Buffy glanced at Angel, who looked
uncomfortable and weary. “We should be getting back.” Buffy stood up, and the
villagers stirred uneasily. Neenha hastened to reassure them, and Buffy and
Angel started to leave. As they passed the locals, Angel stopped, looking
horribly self-conscious. “I’m sorry if I scared
you,” he said quietly. Faced with a monster that was, apparently, repentant,
the villagers weren’t certain how to react. They stirred restlessly, but made
no move to stop Buffy as she steered Angel outside. They began the long walk
back to the campsite, acutely aware that the villagers watched their retreat
with suspicion. When they were out of sight of the village, Buffy stopped to
pull Angel into her arms. “God.” She said with
feeling. “I was so worried about you, Angel.” “I’m sorry,” he replied,
hugging her tighter. “Maybe I’d better steer clear of Kervak blood in
future.” “Are you feeling
better?” Buffy asked, laying a hand on his forehead. She knew it was a
useless gesture, given that vampires don’t have a circulation, but she wanted
an excuse to touch him. “I feel cold,” he told
her. “And tired. I don’t remember anything about what happened after I fed
from the Kervak.” “I’m just glad you’re
you again.” Buffy commented, taking his hand as they continued on toward the
camp. By the time they reached it, Angel was looking shattered, and his body
trembled with fatigue. Buffy settled him into the tent and then went in
search of fresh blood to nourish him and restore his strength. After Angel’s somewhat
unorthodox introduction to the villagers, Buffy found that many people asked
after him when she went to the markets, albeit with wariness. She became very
friendly with Neenha, and enjoyed her visits to fetch supplies. Angel seemed
not to have suffered any lasting effects from drinking tainted blood, but
Buffy knew he was upset at losing control of the demon. Work continued on the
cabin, and it was beginning to look like a proper dwelling. Buffy carried two hot
mugs of the coffee substitute, which had actually turned out to be an
acceptable alternative, towards where Angel worked on the new building. The construction was
looking good, and Buffy was excited about living in the new cabin. There was
still a way to go, and she circled the building as she looked for Angel. She
could hear chopping on the other side, and she carefully carried the drinks
round to him. She paused when the darkness finally revealed him, and she took
a deep breath to calm herself. He was unaware that she watched him as he
stood chopping wood for the building; his shirt had been discarded, and Buffy
was mesmerised by the rippling of the tattoo in his back, and the soft sheen
that covered his upper body. He looked up as she
approached, genuinely pleased to see her. Buffy placed the drinks on a nearby
log and curled her arm round him. The dark eyes appraised her, before he
rested the axe against the log and took her in his arms. “What do you think?” he
asked. “Wonderful,” she
mumbled, her thoughts scattering as Angel kissed her gently. “How long before
we can move in?” “A few days… a week
maybe.” He turned to look at his handiwork with pride. One hand draped over
Buffy’s shoulder, and the other idly played with the handle of his axe. Buffy
leant in to his shoulder, feeling warm and content. She had never really
thought that she could ever have a proper life with Angel; yet, they were
together here, and still very much in love. The day dawned that the
cabin was finally finished. The last part of the roof went on with great
ceremony and excitement. Buffy and Angel stood just outside the door, and
Buffy asked, “Which of us gets to go in first?” Angel rewarded her with
a grin, swept her up in his arms and carried her laughing into the building.
Buffy playfully slapped his arm, pretending to be angry, and he set her down
gently on the floor. The cabin wasn’t huge,
just consisting of one fairly spacious area, but after living in a cramped
tent for months, it felt almost palatial. Angel took her hand and they walked
round the empty cabin deciding where they wanted to put everything; or
rather, where Buffy wanted to put everything. “That would be a good
place for our bed, Angel, and maybe we could have a little screen in front of
it? And in front of that, could we have a table and chairs?” “Have to be benches,”
Angel corrected. “I don’t have the faintest idea how to make a chair.” “Benches then. I’d like
a big rug in front of the fireplace and shelves or something for storage. Can
we do all that?” Buffy cast eager eyes up
at him, and it pleased him to see her so animated. “I’ll see what I can
do,” he replied. “But I’m not a carpenter… I don’t know how good they’ll be.” “Doesn’t matter,” she
said softly, reaching up to pull his head down into a gentle kiss. “Just as
long as I have you.” “Always.” He replied
breathlessly before tangling his fingers in her hair and deepening the kiss. When Buffy went down to
the village for the next market, she decided to look for some soft
furnishings for the new cabin. They had wooden shutters on the windows, so
didn’t need any curtains, but Buffy was contemplating putting some up anyway.
She enjoyed buying things for the new place, and it was nice to have
somewhere to put things. She was excited, too,
because her first night time market was looming, and for the first time Angel
was able to go with her. The market had a different feel to it, not just
because of the darkness but because the atmosphere was more like a festival.
There was music, and dancing, and with food and alcoholic beverages on sale. Many of the villagers
knew Buffy, and she stopped to talk to several of them. All of them welcomed
Angel shyly to their midst and although he sensed an undercurrent of tension,
most responses to them were positive. Buffy revelled in being
able to show Angel everything, and she pointed out all her favourite stalls,
decorated with pretty flowers and bright colours. There were a lot of new
stalls too, and an abundance of goods of all sorts. Once they had bought
necessaries, she particularly wanted Angel to browse at places that would
interest him, and showed him the tables that carried tools or interesting
weapons. The shopping took a long
time, both of them aware that this was probably the closest they would ever
get to ‘going out together’. They purchased some food and tea, and Buffy
insisted that Angel also taste the local beer; she declined any for herself
though, saying that beer for her was very ‘bad’. They also bought some
new clothes, rugs and blankets for the cabin, and when Angel noticed Buffy’s
surreptitious interest in a gorgeous bracelet, he bought that for her, too. All in all, the trip was
a huge success, and finally, laden down with a vast array of packages and
groceries, they began the long walk back to the cabin. Buffy reached their
destination first, hurrying in to lay their purchases on the table. Angel
hovered outside, and Buffy glared at him impatiently. “Stop messing around,
Angel. It’s been a long night. Just get in here, will you?” Angel joined her, but he
was wearing a bemused expression. “Do you know what just
happened there?” he asked. Buffy sighed. “You
decided to act like a moron?” “No… I wasn’t…” Angel
shook his head. “I couldn’t get in, Buffy. Physically… I couldn’t come in.” Buffy frowned. “But
that…?” “Yeah,” he agreed, a
small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Then… I must have…
thought of this place as home.” She said in wonder. Angel’s arms encircled her,
bringing her closer, welcoming her home. “You must have,” he agreed. Buffy’s body pressed
eagerly against his broader one, as she reached up on tiptoe to kiss him;
Angel’s arms tightened on her waist as he tasted her, sucking gently on her
lower lip and making her moan. Buffy sighed with
contentment. She ran her fingers along Angel’s cheek, the depth of emotion in
his eyes drowning her. “Welcome home, Angel.” The End. Return to Fiction Index |