Reawakening - Part Two
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, Sandollar, Kuzui,the WB, Fox, etc.
SUMMARY: Um . . . Angel wakes up after his night of hot sex with Darla.
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"Buffy, why isn't your father here?" I asked her while we settled ourselves on the wrought iron bench outside.
She sighed, her breath making a frosty cloud in the cold night air. "He's on his way home from London. He'll be here sometime tomorrow. I had to call his office to find out where he was; I haven't heard from him in months."
I was silent, trying to understand how this man who had fathered and helped raise such a wonderful daughter - two wonderful daughters - could abandon them like that. How could he just turn his back on them and not want to know how they were faring, make sure their lives were going well? It was cold. It was unfeeling. It was -
It was exactly the same way I'd cut my family out of my life. Not my original family, whom I'd killed - my new family. Cordelia and Wesley. And possibly even Gunn, although he hadn't been with us long enough to determine whether he'd become a full-fledged member. I'd pushed them away and ignored them as surely as Hank Summers had done with Buffy and Dawn. And causing just as much pain in the process. More, perhaps. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. God help me, what had I done? The only family I'd known in two hundred and forty years, and I'd alienated them.
"Angel?" A soft, warm hand touched my chest. "What is it? What's wrong?"
I looked into Buffy's green-hazel eyes - eyes that had always been able to see into my very soul - and found myself blurting out, "God, Buffy, I've screwed things up so badly! Cordelia and Wesley hate me now and Kate probably got kicked off the PD because she trusted me and Hell is here on earth and nothing I can do makes a damn bit of difference and Darla's a vampire again - "
Tears were streaming down my face and my voice quavered in and out, choked with emotion. Buffy raised a hand. "Whoa!" she declared. "What was that about Darla?"
So I told her. Everything. About Wolfram & Hart and how they brought Darla back to life - human life - as a pawn to use against me. About the dreams. About Darla pleading with me to Turn her back into a vampire. About enduring the trials and risking my existence to restore her failing health and how it had all been for nothing. About Darla finally accepting her fate and finding a measure of peace, only to be Turned once more - forcibly, by Drusilla, who'd been brought there for that purpose by Wolfram & Hart.
I spared no details. I was brutally honest about the obsession taking over my life, about locking the Wolfram & Hart group in the wine cellar with Dru and Darla, knowing it would be a bloodbath. About firing my staff, my family, and ignoring them. About thinking I could go to the Home Office of Wolfram & Hart and do a kamikaze act, only to discover that their headquarters was the entire planet and they had no need for a final victory in a war they were already winning. I quoted Holland Manners' words, " ‘The world doesn't work in spite of evil. It works with us. It works because of us.' "
"And you believed him?" Buffy interrupted. "Just like you did with the First Evil?" She cupped my face with her tiny hand. "Oh, Angel, you have such a blind spot about this! Evil beings tell you things and you believe them without question. Why can't you see that the Other Side is afraid of you? Why can't you recognize that they'll say anything and do anything to stop you fighting them?"
Her fingers smoothed the tears away. Her voice was soft. "You've lost your way in the dark and they've made you believe there's no light anywhere, that the dark is all there is. But they're wrong. There's plenty of light in the world. You know that, Angel. You just have to look for it."
Her words fell into my heart, my soul, and lay there, glowing. Then, silently, gently, they exploded with warmth, permeating my entire being until all the shadows within were chased away by the radiance. And I knew their truth.
Buffy. Willow. Giles. Xander. Cordelia. Doyle. Kate. Wesley. Gunn. Anne, with her teen shelter. Even Joyce, who had raised two daughters with loving care. Hundreds, thousands, millions of others just like them, all fighting against apathy, cruelty, indifference, despair. Against evil. How could I have forgotten them? They were the ones who refuted Holland Manners' assertion. They were the light. They fought the good fight, and I'd come appallingly close to abandoning it and them.
"Buffy - " I turned to her, overcome with gratitude to the point that words wouldn't form. It didn't matter. She saw it in my face and smiled. "Welcome back, Angel," was all she said, and before I knew it we were kissing. Oh God, I'd missed her so damn much! I hadn't realize how much until this moment.
"I love you, I love you," I murmured over and over while raining kisses on her face and hair and mouth.
"I love you!" she gasped. "God, Angel, I feel like I've been dead since you left, and now I'm alive again. Hold me!"
I clasped her to me so tightly it was a wonder she could breathe. But not a sound of distress did she make. Instead, she buried her face in my neck and held me with arms of steel. I inhaled the fragrance of her hair, and it was instantly familiar.
"Well, well, isn't this touching?" drawled a cool, silky voice that was also familiar - unfortunately. We sprang apart. "But making out in the back yard while your mother lies dead on a steel table waiting to be cut up?" Darla continued. "Tsk, tsk. Hardly what I'd call filial respect."
Her eyes burned into mine. "Hello, Angelus. I figured this was where you went when you left so unexpectedly. And without a goodbye kiss, too." The vindictive gaze moved to Buffy. "Don't you just hate it when they don't even give you a kiss after hours of hot sex?"
Buffy drew in a sharp breath. My heart fell into my shoes. "I'm Angel," I said as calmly as I could. "Not Angelus."
"Are you sure about that, dear boy?" Darla slunk closer, her voice sultry. "Because it certainly felt like old times there, with you throwing me against the wall and into the bed and all." Smiling her smug, catlike smile, she lifted the hair away from her neck, displaying fresh fang marks.
To my amazement, Buffy also smiled. Casually she shook her long hair back and tilted her head. Peeking above the top of her sweater were the half-moon scars of what were, unmistakably, fang marks. The marks I'd put there two years ago on the night I almost drained her.
Darla's face went slack with shock. Then rage and jealousy contorted her lovely features, turning them ugly. "A few hours ago we were in bed screwing our brains out!" she snarled at me. "Why do you still have your filthy, disgusting soul? Why didn't you lose it? Why?" The last word was shouted.
I regarded her, shaking my head. "I told you once before, Darla: What we had between us can't hold a candle to what Buffy and I had."
"Have," interposed Buffy, moving closer to me. "Give it up, Darla. I know exactly what happened earlier tonight. Angel was in shock, severely depressed, and he was desperate to feel something, anything, besides despair. You were there - I don't know how - "
"She came to my room," I put in. I was amazed at her insight.
Buffy nodded. "You two have a long history together, most of it good, I guess . . . if you have a twisted, sick perspective. Angel hoped being with you would revive some of those feelings. But most of all, Darla, you were convenient." Her tone dripped scorn. "Do you really think if you hadn't been handy he would have gone looking for you?"
Darla snarled. I recalled my state at the time. Shocked, numb, despairing, just as Buffy had said. No, I wouldn't have gone anywhere. I would have just sat in my room until driven forth by hunger - or suicidal depression. Involuntarily I shook my head.
Buffy went on. "It's kind of hard to swallow, isn't it? I mean, here you had this night - well, evening - of fantastic sex - I assume it was fantastic?" She raised an inquiring eyebrow at me.
"I, uh, don't really remember much of it," I answered truthfully, "but it was probably pretty wild. It always was before."
" - you had an evening of wild sex," Buffy continued smoothly. "And then he leaves you, just like that - " She snapped her fingers, " - without a word, and comes . . . here. To me. Pretty big slap in the face, I'd say."
Darla was trembling with fury, her features morphing in and out of game face. I took a couple of quick steps to the right and snapped a branch off a nearby tree. Her yellow eyes snapped over to me. "So you're going to stake me, Angelus? Is that the plan?"
"Sooner or later," I told her. "And the name is Angel."
A wooden shaft suddenly appeared in her chest. Darla gasped loudly, her eyes wide with shock, mouth gaping. She tottered forward, fingers extended like claws, reaching for my throat, then suddenly dissolved into a cloud of ashes.
"I vote for sooner." Giles lowered the crossbow, his expression grim.
FOUR DAYS LATER:
"Are you all right?" I asked softly.
Buffy pulled back slightly from our embrace, shaking the hair away from her face. "I'm doing as well as can be expected, I guess." She sighed. "Right now, anyway." Her lips trembled slightly.
"It's okay to grieve," I reminded her.
"Dawn needs me to be strong," she replied, taking a deep breath.
"Not always," I disagreed. "She also needs you to just be her sister. She needs you to grieve for the loss of your mother, like she is."
Buffy was quiet a moment. "Maybe you're right." Then she changed the subject. "Call me later?"
"As soon as I arrive," I promised. "And I'll let you know how things go."
"I was surprised when Cordy and Wes showed up for the funeral," she said. "That was really nice of them."
"Me too," I admitted. Astonished would have been a better word, really, considering that Cordelia had hung up on me when I called to let them know of Joyce's death. Twice. I'd waited an hour before attempting a third time.
<><><><><><><><><>
(ANGEL INVESTIGATIONS
THREE DAYS EARLIER)
"Are you going to get that?" Wesley asked Cordelia.
"No," Cordelia said shortly, ignoring the ringing phone six inches away from her left hand. "It might be Angel again."
"And it just might be a client," Gunn observed. "With money." Cordelia merely looked stubborn, and he sighed. "Fine. Leave it to me, like always." He picked up the phone. "Investigations. We help the - " His expression grew cold. "What do you want?"
"Told you so!" Cordelia hissed at Wesley. He ignored her, watching as Gunn frowned, not with anger but with confusion.
"Who? Yeah - got it. Okay - fine. I'll tell ‘em." He banged down the receiver, looked at the other two. "It was Angel," he reported unnecessarily.
Cordelia snorted. "What did I tell you?" But Wesley asked, "Why was he calling? Where is he?"
"He said he was calling from Sunny-something. Vale?"
That got Cordelia's attention. "Sunnydale?"
"That's the place. Wanted me to let you know that someone's dead."
"Buffy?" Wesley and Cordelia said in unison. Gunn shook his head. "No. Joyce somebody," he told them.
Cordelia gasped. "Joyce Summers?" Gunn nodded. "That's Buffy's mother," she told him slowly, then looked at Wesley. "Why would he call to let us know that?"
"A good question," Wesley said slowly. "Perhaps . . . perhaps Angel is beginning to emerge from his obsession with Darla and Wolfram & Hart."
Cordelia snorted again. "Right. And maybe the spring fashions will feature poodle skirts!"
"Cordelia." He got her attention. "Would the Angel that was in here a couple of days ago have bothered to call us, much less have gone to Sunnydale to comfort Buffy?"
"You're assuming that's why he went there," she retorted, tossing her head. "For all we know he was . . . following Darla!"
"We owe him the benefit of the doubt," Wesley said steadily.
"We owe him nothing!" snapped Cordelia. "He's the one who owes us! Big time!"
Wesley turned his chair toward Gunn. "Gunn, did he tell you when the funeral is to be held?"
<><><><><><><><><>
"I wish they would have stayed longer," Buffy said now. "Instead of leaving yesterday right after the funeral."
"It's probably just as well they didn't," I sighed. "There's enough going on in your life right now, and the problems between us are . . . well, our problems. My problems."
"You hurt them, Angel," she murmured.
I flinched. "I know. I seem to be good at doing that." I sighed again, knowing it wouldn't be easy trying to mend relations with my staff, that it might be one of the hardest things I'd ever attempted.
She rubbed my back comfortingly. "You're also getting pretty good at apologizing."
"Lots of practice," I said ruefully, then looked at her. "I still can't believe how well you took Darla's . . . revelation about us having sex."
"It hurt," she admitted. "But I figured I wasn't exactly in a position to cast stones. You know?" Her expression was wry.
I bent down to kiss her. When we were like this, together, nothing seemed to matter except her lips soft on mine and the pressure of our bodies touching. Long moments later I released her. We gazed at each other for some time, then finally I stepped back. "Well."
"Yeah. You better go," she agreed shakily. "I love you."
"I love you." Again our eyes held, then I got into the car. "See you next weekend."
She nodded.
I drove off, watching her reflection in the rearview mirror grow smaller and smaller. Already I was counting the hours until Friday night, when we'd agreed I would return to Sunnydale. We didn't know what the future held, only that it had to include us in it, somehow. As the Mohra demon had told me, together we were strong; alone, we were - vulnerable. And neither one of us could afford that.
THE END
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