"Unexpected Song"
by Debbie Nockels
(November 2000)
PART TWO
Her voice was flat, toneless, a sharp reminder of the defeated, apathetic Buffy he'd found in the otherworld the night before, the Buffy who'd found life too much to take anymore and was willing herself to die. Angel walked up behind her, so close that he could feel her heat.
"That's not what I'm saying," he said firmly. "Buffy, you've only just found out about this. When you've had time to think about it, like I have, you'll realize that we can't just pick up where we left off two years ago. Too much has changed. We're not the same people we were then."
"I guess not." Her lone reflection showed clearly in the darkness of the window, and in it Angel saw a tear roll down her cheek. His heart twisted. Buffy whispered something; he had to bend his head to hear it. "Just once I'd like to have a Hallmark ending."
He kissed the top of her head and gently turned her around. "Would you settle right now for a Hallmark moment?"
Buffy blinked, spilling another tear onto her cheek. "Please," she whispered. Angel leaned down, and she closed her eyes as their lips met. His kiss was like cool water following a long drought, refreshing her parched soul. She drank it in, and all the sore places in her heart, the doors she'd unknowingly slammed shut when he left, slowly opened again to receive the wonder of his touch, his love. She could feel it washing through her, a sparkling elixir, soothing the hard, dry cracks caused by his absence, softening the hurt.
Healing.
A soft little sigh escaped her, and she leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around Angel's waist and holding him tightly. Just before they kissed she'd wondered if, after being with Riley for so long, she'd have to get accustomed all over again to the lack of a heartbeat and body heat. The answer, she now discovered, was an emphatic "No!" The moment they touched it was as if Riley had never existed. She'd come home again. Her body remembered him - the coolness of his skin through his clothing, the icy burn of his lips, the muscular planes of his unbreathing chest, the solid waist beneath her arms . . . the firm pressure of his thighs against hers.
She deepened their kiss, instinctively rising up on her toes for better access, her arms relinquishing their hold on his waist and trailing upward to wind around his neck. Their mouths opened. Angel's tongue brushed hers, soft, tantalizing, thrilling. She shivered with delight, and his arms tightened, pulling her closer. Her heart began to pound and she felt a tingling warmth between her legs.
When they finally pulled apart, Buffy was breathing hard and her blood was racing. She swallowed. "That hasn't changed."
�No," Angel agreed huskily, shaken by the speed with which their desire had roared to life with merely a kiss. "That will never change. We'll make it, Buffy. This time we'll make it work. I love you and I'm not going to lose you again." They remained in each other's arms for another moment, then slowly separated. As they went over to the bed Angel noticed the claddagh ring sitting on top of the nightstand, where he'd placed it after Joyce left.
Buffy followed his gaze. "What's that?"
Angel picked up the ring. �"Willow found it in your jewelry box yesterday. �She gave it to me when I got here last night and I - well, I put it on your finger. �I thought it might help me bring you back. �But it's too big now, with all the weight you've lost, so it slipped off while you were sleeping. �Your mother found it and - "
She interrupted. �"This is the ring that was in my jewelry box?"
"Yes." �Why was she so upset? �Was it because Willow looked through her belongings without her permission? �Or was there another reason? �Angel watched in confusion as Buffy turned away. �He licked his lips nervously. �"Buffy, it's okay if you don't want to wear it again. �I mean, I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. �I understand that maybe it's too painful a reminder of everything that happened that year - "
Again she interrupted, still turned from him. �"Angel, that's not the ring you gave me."
"What?"
"I don't have that ring anymore." �Before he could react to that, she faced him and continued. �"Several months after - after I sent you to hell, I brought it to the mansion and put it on the floor where I stabbed you. �I was . . . saying goodbye. �I turned and walked away and that was the last time I saw it. �This ring is one that I bought for myself, after you left Sunnydale."
"Why?" was all Angel could say. �His mind whirled with disjointed thoughts and images. �Foremost among them was the memory of flying/falling through a great distance and the impact as he landed, of his confusion as his tormented mind realized that his torturers had inexplicably vanished and he was lying on a cold, hard floor, naked as a babe and almost as weak. �Another image appeared: Buffy placing the ring he'd given her on the place where he'd been sucked into hell.
He paid only scant attention to Buffy's mumbled explanation of an impulse buy that she didn't really understand herself except that she had been feeling so lonely. �Something was trying to penetrate the jumble in his brain. �Acathla . . . his soul returning . . . the piercing of the sword . . . the vortex claiming him . . . hell . . . Buffy . . . the ring on the same spot . . . falling . . . finding himself back in the mansion. . . .
Suddenly it all came together. �"My God," he interrupted Buffy. �He turned to her in a daze. �"That's what brought me back from hell. �The ring."
"The ring brought you back from hell?" Buffy repeated. �She blinked, adjusting to the change of subject.
"Look, I know it sounds crazy," Angel began.
"Oh, I don't know," said Buffy judiciously. �"No crazier than a fifteen-year-old girl discovering she's the Chosen One, or there suddenly being two Willows and one of them is a skanky vampire. �Or, for that matter, no crazier than a slayer and a vampire falling in love."
"True," Angel smiled. �He reached out and caressed her cheek. �"Buffy, remember the scorched outline on the floor of the mansion after I returned? �That was where I landed. �It's the same spot where you stabbed me, and you said that's where you put the ring." �She nodded. �"I think that somehow the ring changed places with me. �Or, well, something like that, anyway," he finished, running out of steam a little.
Buffy looked thoughtful. �"I did wear it the way you showed me � for the short time that I actually wore it." �They exchanged a look that said everything without a word being spoken: �the anguish and regret they shared about all that had happened when Angel lost his soul.
Buffy put her hand on Angel's chest, flat over his heart. �Angel instantly flashed back to the Day That Never Happened, when she'd made the same gesture, only that day his heart had been beating. �He swallowed, hard.
" �If you wear it with the heart pointing toward your heart, it means you belong to someone'," she quoted softly. �"That's what you told me, and I did. �You were there, in my heart."
"As you were in mine," he murmured, remembering.
Her smile was misty. �"The ring connected our hearts, Angel. �Of course it brought you back to me."
He kissed her, gently, tenderly, then he said, ruefully, "But apparently it wasn't what brought you back, since it's not the same ring."
"No," she murmured. �"You did that all by yourself." �They kissed again, and his heightened senses were thrillingly aware of every spot where their bodies touched: of her shoulders beneath his palms; of the twin points of her breasts pressing against his chest; of her hands caressing his neck, pulling his head down to deepen the kiss.
"Buffy," he whispered, "this doesn't solve anything." �But he made no move to pull away.
"Nope," she agreed, and promptly kissed him again.
"I mean," he gasped in between increasingly passionate kisses, "this isn't helping � "
"It's helping me," Buffy whispered, tightening her arms around him and pressing closer.
Angel forgot his misgivings and surrendered to their kiss. �God, it was just like he remembered it in his dreams: �hot and sweet, burning through him like fire, and more intoxicating than any liquor, so that the more they kissed the more he thirsted for the touch of her lips, her hands. �He didn't realize they'd moved until he found himself sinking onto the bed with Buffy in his arms.
The sound of shattering glass jerked them apart. �A vampire in full game face burst in through the window, a second vamp right on his heels. �They paused, looking considerably startled. �"Angelus!" the second vampire exclaimed. Taking advantage of their hesitation, Angel and Buffy instantly attacked.
"Wrong." �Angel tackled the surprised vamp, crashing him against the wall. �"The name's Angel." �
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first vamp fighting with Buffy. �His attention quickly returned to his own opponent when, with an agile twist, the vampire slipped out of his hold and attached himself to Angel's back, with an arm around his throat as he tried to twist Angel's head around. �He was strong, but Angel was stronger still. �
He staggered toward the broken window and with unerring accuracy heaved the vamp straight through the opening. �The vampire's shout of alarm broke off abruptly. �Angel knew he hadn't killed it � after all, they were only two stories up � but with luck it had broken a leg or arm or sustained some other injury that would keep it out of the fight. ��He checked on Buffy.
She was doing her best, but he saw in a flash that she wasn't back to full Slayer strength. �She'd managed to fend off the knife in the vampire's hand, keeping it from her throat, but couldn't throw off the vampire itself. �Slowly, despite her best efforts, the long blade was descending, inch by inexorable inch. �
"Buffy!" �Angel lunged, hooking his arm around the vampire's neck and hauling back with all his strength. �They went stumbling backward. �Suddenly the vampire twisted around and before Angel could react, stabbed him in the chest. �As he gasped in shock and pain his attacker suddenly exploded in a shower of dust. �The entire fight had lasted only a few minutes. �Angel staggered back, slumping against the wall.
"Good thing Mom left her letter opener here," Buffy panted. �Her eyes fell on the spreading stain on Angel's shirt. �"You're hurt!" �She helped him into the chair, which he all but fell into. �"I'm all right," he gritted. �Buffy only flashed him an incredulous what-the-hell-are-you-saying look. �"Buffy, we need to get you out of here. �They might attack again."
Paying no attention to this, Buffy lifted his sweater and sucked in her breath in a loud hiss. �She lifted an ashen face. �"Angel, it missed your heart by less than an inch."
"It was a knife, not a stake," he said impatiently, trying to ignore the pain and the weakness spiraling through him. �"Buffy, you have to leave. �You're still weak and now I'm injured. �We've got to find a safe place for you."
"And for you," Buffy added. �"I'll call Giles." �As she reached for the phone the door to her room suddenly flew open.
"What's going on in here?" demanded the nurse from the doorway. �"Who's making all that noise?" �Her glance fell on the pile of dust that was all that remained of the vampire Buffy had destroyed, then flew to the shattered window. �Her demeanor shifted from aggressive to confused and then to alarmed. �"What in the world?"
Upon her entrance, Angel immediately turned so that his wound was out of her view. �Buffy said, smoothly, "Somebody threw something that broke the window. �When it landed on the floor it just disintegrated into that heap of dust there. �Like a dirt clod." �She dialed Giles' number.
The nurse only looked more puzzled. �"A dirt clod? �How could that break a window?"
Buffy shrugged. �"Beats me." �Her attention snapped to the phone. �"Giles, it's Buffy. �I'm leaving the hospital now. �Would you please pick us up in front?" �She listened impatiently for a moment. �"I'll explain when I see you. �I need to call Mom now and tell her I'll be home before long." �She hung up.
The nurse was gaping at her. �"Miss, you can't leave the hospital now! �It's the middle of the night." �Angel glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 8:05.
Buffy looked at her. �"Am I under arrest?"
"What?" �The nurse was shocked. �"Of course not, but � "
"Then I'm leaving. �I assume there are papers I need to sign?" �The nurse shut her mouth and nodded silently. �"Then why don't you get those ready for me so I don't have to leave *without* signing them? �Because in five minutes I'm going to be out of here. �I really don't feel safe in a place where people throw things through the windows."
The nurse looked helplessly from Buffy to Angel, who shrugged, then gritted his teeth against the pain that careless gesture cost him. �It was taking all his concentration to remain upright in the chair. �Throwing up her hands, the nurse turned and left. �Buffy moved to Angel's side. �"How are you doing?" �She inspected the injury again. �"I think it's stopped bleeding at least."
"Probably." �Angel knew that she knew that vampires never bled for long. �There simply wasn't enough blood in their systems. �"Call your mother and then let's go." �Buffy picked up the phone and explained the basic situation to her mother in a few terse sentences, then went over to the closet. �It was empty except for a long robe. �Frowning, she walked over to the tiny dresser next to Angel and pulled open the drawers.
"Damn!"
"What?" �With some effort, Angel focused his eyes.
"I don't have any clothes here." �She gave a frustrated sigh, then stalked over to the closet again and put on the robe. �"This'll just have to do." �She threw a few personal belongings into a plastic sack she found in a drawer, and helped Angel to his feet. �"Can you walk?" she asked, concerned, as he swayed.
�Yes," he assured her grimly. �Taking a deep breath, he summoned every last ounce of strength and moved toward the door. �
"Wait." �Buffy retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair and helped him put it on, fastening it to cover the blood stain on his sweater. �Angel was chagrined; he'd completely forgotten about that.
At the nurses' station they were met by a delegation - the nurse who'd come into Buffy's room, her supervisor, and someone from the business office, each one of them urging Buffy to reconsider her "rash" decision to leave. �The security guard, who'd just arrived, only wanted the details of what had happened, which Buffy gave to him. �He took off to inspect the scene.
Buffy cut short their protestations. �"I'm going. �I understand that it's against my doctor's recommendation. �What do I have to sign?" �With pursed lips and ill grace, the business office rep pushed a sheaf of papers toward her. �Buffy glanced at them, turned to the last page, and signed, then turned to leave.
"Ms. Summers, wait!" the supervisor called. �"We have to wheel you to the entrance." �When Buffy started to argue, she said firmly, "It's hospital regulations." �She motioned to an aide hovering nearby to bring the wheelchair over. �Buffy sighed impatiently, but then brightened. �"I'll agree only if I can sit on Angel's lap."
"What?" the supervisor sputtered. �"Absolutely not." �Buffy merely looked at her. �The woman groaned loudly. �"Oh, for � All right. �You win. �Again." �She gave a "come on" jerk of her head, and Angel sat down with concealed relief. �Buffy carefully sat on his lap, and the supervisor herself pushed them to the front doors, where they found Giles waiting for them � and also, to Buffy's surprise, Joyce.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Buffy asked as she got up. �She extended a hand to Angel, who was frankly glad of the assistance. �He managed to maintain a fa�ade of normality until the supervisor had left, then almost collapsed against the wall. �Buffy caught him before he fell. �
"Angel!" Giles and Joyce exclaimed in unison.
"Giles, go bring the car around," Buffy told her Watcher. �Giles didn't waste time asking for explanations; he sprinted for the parking lot. �Buffy and Joyce together eased Angel onto a nearby planter box. �"What happened?" Joyce asked quietly.
Buffy unzipped the jacket, and Joyce sucked in her breath as the dark stain on his shirt became visible. �Unlike Giles she already knew about the attack; Buffy had told her over the phone. �"One of the vamps stabbed him," Buffy said. �"It barely missed his heart. �He needs a place to recuperate."
"Angel, you're welcome to stay with us," began Joyce. �Angel shook his head weakly. �"That's too dangerous � for Buffy. �They know where she lives � "
"And they can't enter without an invitation," interrupted Buffy firmly. �"Which isn't true of the mansion � is it?" �
Angel couldn't argue with her logic. �Since he wasn't technically alive vampires had free access to any place he resided, such as the mansion. �Just then Giles' car pulled up, and further conversation was suspended until they were safely inside and on their way. �Then Buffy had to explain everything to Giles, from the beginning. �He concurred with the decision to take Angel to the Summers' house, after first offering his apartment as an alternative. �This was vetoed by Buffy.
"I need to rest too, and I won't be able to unless I know Angel is safe. �If he's with you, Giles, I'd be worrying every minute that something had happened."
It occurred to Angel that he'd taken it for granted that wherever they went, they'd stay there together. �The realization startled him. �Were his concerns about resuming their relationship fading? �Pushing that thought aside for later consideration, he reminded her, "Buffy, it's you they're after, not me." �He was going to say more, but a sudden wave of pain took his voice away.
She shifted sideways to look at him with that earnest expression he remembered so well. �"Maybe at first. �But now they know you're in town, Angel, and you're not exactly their favorite person either. �What if they decide to try to get you out of the way too? �You're injured, remember?"
"She's right." �That was Joyce. �"Angel, you're staying with us." �Her tone brooked no argument. �Angel smiled faintly and gave in. �
As the car turned onto Revello Drive, Giles said, "Keep your eyes open, everyone. �If the attack on Buffy really was part of a plan, rather than just, er, an isolated incident, it's just possible they might try to ambush her, and as Angel pointed out, they know where she lives."
The car crept slowly down the quiet street, with everyone straining to detect a stealthy movement, or a strange lurking shadow . . . anything that might indicate a possible attempt at an ambush. �Joyce had the keys ready in her hand, and when Giles turned into the driveway of their house she leaped out and ran to the front door, wasting not a single motion as she unlocked it and held it open. �The others were slower, since Angel needed help getting out of the car.
Once inside they looked at one another rather sheepishly. �"Well," Giles cleared his throat. �"Better safe than, er, sorry."
"Absolutely," agreed Buffy. �"Angel, do you want to go up to your room now?" �Angel eyed the staircase. �"I think I'd better rest a bit before tackling those stairs," he admitted. �Buffy assisted him to the couch, which he sank into gratefully, though refusing to lie down.
"Angel, when did you feed last?" Giles suddenly asked. �Angel glanced sideways at Joyce and didn't answer. �Sensing his discomfort, she said, "I think I'll go start a pot of coffee," and vanished into the kitchen.
�"I'm sorry," Giles apologized. �"I didn't mean to embarrass you. �I was just thinking that it might speed your recovery if you had some, er, nourishment." �Angel had to concede that it would help. �Giles nodded, then said, "I assume you have a supply at the mansion?"
"Never leave home without it," Angel replied with wry humor. �"There's an ice chest in the kitchen with a couple of bags in it." �Giles retrieved his car keys from his pocket and took the key Angel handed him. �"Right. �I'll be back shortly."
Buffy and Angel spoke at the same time. �"Be careful." �"Take someone with you." �Giles smiled at them. �"Of course. �I'll see if Ri - er, Xander can go with me." �He left. �Buffy sat beside Angel. �"How are you doing?"
"I've had worse," he told her, which was only the truth. �"How about you?"
"I'm tired," she admitted. �Angel opened his good arm. �"Come here." �Buffy slid next to him with a sigh. �When Joyce glanced into the room a few minutes later, she saw them cuddled together, Buffy's head on Angel's shoulder, his cheek pillowed on her head, both of them sound asleep. �She smiled, then sighed and looked pensive, hoping that this troubled relationship, and its participants, were finally getting the break it and they deserved. �Then she returned to the kitchen to wait.
On To Part Three