Reawakening
by Debbie Nockels
(February 2001)
RATING: PG-13? - if you can watch the show you can read this
SPOILERS: BtVS, Seasons 1-5, through "I Was Made To Love You"; A:TS, Seasons 1-2, through "Reprise."
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon (who ought to treat them nicer), MutantEnemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, the WB, Fox, etc.
SUMMARY: Um . . . Angel wakes up after his night of hot sex with Darla.
NOTES: Okay, this is what *I* would like to see happen, so obviously, it isn't canon.
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The pain was intense, yanking me from the exhausted, fathoms-deep slumber that only wild, animal sex can induce. There was a body sleeping beside me, and when thunder crashed outside the building for a moment I was carried back in time to a similar situation: Buffy . . . waking next to her as the storm raged outside . . . the agony as my soul was ripped from my body.
No, this was different. Every bit as strong, God yes, but - different. Just as it wasn't Buffy in the bed with me, but Darla. Blind with pain, I fell out onto the carpeted floor and crawled across broken cubes of glass and other debris to where memory told me I'd tossed my pants. I worked my legs into them, vaguely hearing a voice from the bed saying something quizzical, but unable to spare enough attention to reply. It was taking all my concentration to focus on just moving.
I used a nearby chair to help me pull myself upright, zipped the pants just enough to keep them on my hips and staggered like a drunkard toward the door. I spared only a glance for my shoes as I passed them, knowing that in my current condition I'd never get them on. Again Darla spoke from the bed, this time with the sharpness of anger.
"Angelus! Where are you going?"
I paid no attention. Spurred on by a sense of urgency but still enveloped in a thick fog of agony, somehow I stumbled down the long, elegant staircase without falling and made it to my car. As the ignition started, Darla ran outside, yelling something. My name probably. I ignored her, consumed by the emotions pouring through me. I shifted into gear and roared off, tires squealing.
The miles sped by and either the pain lessened or I grew accustomed to it, enough so that at last I was able to look around and recognize that I was on the road to Sunnydale. I still didn't understand just what had happened, or rather, why, but I knew that what I'd been feeling hadn't been my emotions, but Buffy's - and the realization hit me like an electric shock.
What had caused the overwhelming pain I'd shared with her? I was chillingly afraid I already knew. Buffy been critically injured, that was the only possible answer. At least she wasn't dead; I was certain of that. The dead don't feel pain. Well, unless they're vampires, of course. As for why I'd experienced her pain. . . .
I'd always known that my love for Buffy was extraordinary, and not just because I'm a vampire and she's the Slayer. Even a hundred miles away, in Los Angeles, a tiny corner of my heart retained its sense of her. Not that I could tell where she was or what she was doing at any given time or what she was feeling - usually. No, it wasn't that precise, just a sense of *Buffy* - of her well-being. Which right now obviously wasn't doing too well.
When I saw the "Entering Sunnydale" sign I didn't even hesitate. Speeding past the first turn, which led to the college, I headed for the other side of town, to Buffy's house. How I knew I would find her there, I had no idea - but know it I did.
Sure enough, as I turned onto Revello Drive, I saw a knot of cars clustered in front of a house as familiar to me as my own residence. The haphazard parking of the vehicles - some of them half in the street, others with wheels on the sidewalk, indicated distraught minds and heightened my sense of foreboding. Not that it needed any heightening. As soon as I caught sight of Buffy's house the pain disappeared. I was sick with apprehension.
I pulled up behind the closest car, slammed it into park, yanked the keys out of the ignition, and was out of the car almost before the engine stopped purring. Then I was sprinting across the yard, my bare feet slipping on the grass. The front door was open, but as I started to enter I was flung back by an invisible barrier. I guess the thud of my body hitting first the barrier and then the porch floor attracted attention inside, because in a moment Giles appeared.
"Angel?" His face was pale and haggard, with tension lines around the mouth and eyes. "What are - "
I didn't let him finish. "What's happened to Buffy?" I scrambled to my feet. "I know something's wrong. Where is she?" I was frantic.
He gaped at me. "How could you possibly - "
"Giles! What's happened?" The frenzy in my voice and manner must have startled him, for he took a step backward.
"Angel?" Buffy appeared from behind Giles. My relief was so great I staggered. She too looked pale, except for her eyes which were red and swollen from crying.
"Buffy? Are you okay?" I started toward her, forgetting the barrier, and bumped against it again. "Ow!" My forehead throbbed from the second impact.
"Sorry; I forgot about the uninvite spell. Come in." Buffy stepped aside, allowing me to enter.
Giles followed suit, but his eyes never left me as I came in. "How did you know something was wrong?" he asked. "Did someone call you?" He turned his head toward the living room where a gathering of people stood, a frown creasing his brow, as if wondering who might have made the call.
"No. I woke up a while ago and just - felt it." I spoke straight to Buffy, my eyes fixed on hers. "What's wrong?"
People began to migrate toward us, and I glanced up. Willow, Xander, Anya - and an unknown young girl with long dark hair whose eyes were as swollen as Buffy's. I shook my head as sudden dizziness swept over me. What was wrong with me? It was Dawn. I must be more tired than I thought. I turned my attention back to Buffy, hesitantly took her hands in mine. "What's happened, Buffy?"
"My mom's dead." Fresh tears filled her eyes and with a sob she walked into my arms.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was stunned speechless. All I could do was hold her shaking form while she cried. Tears ran down my own cheeks as I bent down and kissed the top of her head, over and over.
"God, Buffy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Vaguely I was aware of Giles shepherding everyone away, giving us some privacy. After a while I gently urged Buffy over to the stairs, and we sat. A bit calmer now, she pulled a wad of tissue from her pants pocket and mopped her eyes. "When did it happen?"
"This afternoon. I came home and found her lying on the couch." She wiped her cheek.
"So - not vampires then?" The last thing Buffy needed was guilt over her mother's death being related to her Slayer destiny.
She shook her head, staring down at her hands. "No. We don't know for sure, but - a few months ago they found out Mom had a brain tumor."
Another shock. "I didn't know." My voice was numb.
"How could you?" Her hands twisted the damp tissue until it tore. "They operated and thought everything was fine, but - " She swallowed. "They're doing an autopsy to try to find out what . . . happened. If it was the tumor, or . . . whatever." A crystal drop fell onto her thigh; she rubbed the dark circle absently, then looked up at me.
"You said you knew something was wrong. How did you know?"
It was my turn to shake my head. "I don't know how. I woke up out of a sound sleep in a lot of pain, but I knew it wasn't my pain - it was yours. I was afraid something had happened to you." I brushed my fingers across her cheek.
She was staring at me. "But - how could that happen?"
"Because I love you?" Then I shrugged. "Does it matter how? The important thing is that I knew."
"And that you're here." She took my hand and kissed my fingers. "Thank you."
"I will always be here," I whispered. "Any time you need me to be."
Buffy's lips trembled and she leaned against me, her arm creeping up to my neck. We didn't speak; I just held her and stroked her shining hair, resting my cheek on her head. Then something occurred to me and I raised my head and looked around. The gang were all assembled in the living room, talking in low voices and glancing our way: Giles, Dawn, Xander, Anya, Willow (with a young woman I didn't know), but one person I expected to find there was nowhere in sight.
I cleared my throat. "Where's Riley?"
"Somewhere in Belize, as far as I know." Buffy's voice was dreary. I craned my neck to look at her.
"What's he doing in Belize?"
I felt her shrug. "Fighting demons, I guess. That's what he went there to do. We broke up."
This seemed to be a night of shocks. "What? Why?"
Her smile was wry and more than a touch bitter. "I wasn't normal enough for him." Then she shook her head. "No, that's not true - or at least it's not all of the truth. Bottom line, I didn't love him and he knew it. And I really don't want to talk about it right now."
"Okay." My heart was too full to talk anyway. Buffy didn't love Riley. I tried to reason with myself not to read anything more into it, but reason seemed to have taken a vacation as far as my heart was concerned. She invited you in, it whispered. She cried in your arms, she's sitting here next to you, holding you and letting you hold her. She still loves you. You know it has to be true.
God knows I wanted it to be true. I wanted to believe that her love for me remained, as mine did for her. But now wasn't the place or time. Buffy had just lost her mother, and that needed to be my focus, not my selfish joy over Riley's departure or my growing guilt about what had happened with Darla earlier that night.
Willow drifted over to the staircase, along with the young woman she'd been talking to before. "Angel, it's good to see you again. Except - well, not for this reason, of course."
"No." I almost smiled, it was such a typical Willow statement. "But it's good to see you too."
She gestured to the young woman, and I noticed they were holding hands. Hmm, maybe this explained Oz's absence. "This is Tara. Tara, this is Angel."
Tara extended her hand. "I've h-heard a lot about you, Angel. It's a p-pleasure to finally meet you." Her smile was warm but brief, as if she felt it would be in bad taste.
"Thank you, Tara, I'm glad to meet you too." I took her hand, expecting her to flinch at the coldness of mine, but she acted as if she shook vampires' hands every day. My eyes moved to the next person. "Dawn. I won't ask how you're doing." How would any kid of fourteen be reacting to the death of a beloved mother?
"You remember me," she commented, flicking a glance at Buffy.
I blinked, puzzled, but also recalling that brief moment of non-recognition when I first got here. "Of course I remember you. It hasn't been that long since I saw you." Not quite a year and a half . . . the day I'd come here in response to Doyle's vision that told of danger to Buffy . . . the day I "skulked" in the background, hiding from Buffy, but managing to be seen by almost everyone else.
Dawn's eyes moved to my face, studying it as she'd always done, as though trying to read my thoughts. "I'm glad you're here," she said softly before turning away to wander into the kitchen.
"Buffy," Willow said now, leaning toward her, "we're going to patrol for you tonight. In a group," she hastily added as Buffy looked up, obviously getting ready to object. She paused after Willow's statement, then slowly nodded.
"Okay; thanks. But please be careful - promise me. I couldn't take anything happening to any of you." The look in Buffy's eyes was haunting, tragic.
"We promise." That was Xander, unwontedly serious and for once not brimming with insults directed toward me. "We better get going, guys. We've got a lot of territory to cover." He passed by with only a glance at me and a quiet, "Angel."
Within a few minutes the gang had left and Giles was in the kitchen checking up on Dawn. There was only silence except for the ticking of a clock somewhere. Buffy suggested we go out back, to get some fresh air.
Click Here For Part Two