SOMETHING’S GOTTEN HOLD OF MY HEART

 

 

Disclaimer ~ Please send all cheques and other monetary contributions to Joss – coz I own precisely nothing.)

***

            Faith lay back in the cool, lush grass staring up at the endless expanse of deep blue sky. The sun baked down upon her and she had to squint her eyes against its glare. It felt wonderful, though, a fierce heat bathing her body in stark contrast to the cold ground beneath her. She wanted to stay like this forever. But it was not to be. A smooth, strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled her to feet.

 

            “Come on, Mom,” the owner of the hand said impatiently. “You can’t lie there all day.”

 

            Faith smiled at her daughter. She was such a beautiful little girl. Dark, almond shaped eyes sparkled with intelligence, thick hair fell in wild corkscrew curls around her angelic face, with its coffee coloured skin, and her mouth displayed its usual lively grin. Hope’s enthusiasm for life was infectious and whereas a minute ago Faith was happy just lying in the grass, now she was as keen as her daughter to continue their walk.

 

            “Alright,” she asked, “which way now?”

 

            Hope crinkled up her features in thought then scanned their surroundings.  “This way.” She replied, pointing to a path that led deep into the dense rainforest.

 

            “OK. But are you sure we won’t get lost?”

 

            Hope laughed at the suggestion. “Nah, I know the way.”

 

            She skipped off down the path, doubling back to grab her mother’s hand when Faith showed hesitation. They walked for what seemed like hours through the undergrowth, following the twists and the turns of the path as it wondered between massive old trees, with thick, moss covered trunks. They scrambled up steep inclines and jumped over narrow streambeds. Faith was just about to ask Hope to stop for a rest when they began to hear the crashing of water in the distance. Hope ran towards the sound and Faith had no choice but to follow her.

 

            The sound of the water led them out of the forest and alongside a narrow, fast-flowing river. They tracked the course of the river for a few hundred yards until they reached a cliff edge, here the land literally fell steeply away from them and the river followed it, flowing straight down the rock face as a spectacular waterfall. The cascade of water lasted about 100 feet before crashing into a deep, and deceptively still, plunge pool. Faith gasped at the view - it was magnificent. The bright sunlight reflected off the surface of the water and caused it to appear to sparkle like thousands of tiny diamonds. And beyond the plunge pool, stretching into the distance, lay mile upon mile of verdant, green rainforest.

 

            “I knew you’d like it.” Hope sounded pleased with herself.

 

            “It’s amazing.” Faith bent down to hug her young daughter. “How did you know it was here?”

 

            “I saw it in a dream.”

 

            Faith rushed over to the edge of the waterfall, revelling in the feel of the cool spray hitting her hot, sweaty skin. She peered down at the pool below and suddenly longed for the sensation of its cold, slick waters surrounding her body.

 

            “Be careful Mom!” Hope called out, concern evident in her voice.

 

            “I’m going to jump!” Faith announced excitedly.

 

            “No! You can’t. You can’t leave me!”

 

            “You’ll be fine without me.” Faith said reassuringly. “You don’t need me.” She turned away from Hope and towards the steep drop in front of her. “I love you,” she called just before lifting her arms above her head in a diver’s pose and launching herself off the cliff face.

 

            A tremendous exhilaration swept through Faith as she fell head first through the air towards the waters of the plunge pool. She closed her eyes tightly – it was like flying. The wind whipped back her hair and adrenaline surged through her body. Then it was over and she felt only numb shock as she hit the water. Her outstretched arms meant that she glided beneath the surface smoothly and the momentum of her fall propelled her further into the depths of the pool. She forced her eyes open and was amazed by the colours that surrounded her. Light diffused though the water giving it an ethereal glow and if she looked upwards she could still see the clear sky, which was now tinting the water a fabulous deep blue.

 

            As she swam deeper the colour darkened to midnight blue as less light penetrated through the water. It also got colder and Faith no longer felt refreshed, but chilled. She tried to twist her body to swim back upwards to the surface and she found she couldn’t. It felt almost as though something was pushing her downwards. Panic began to grip her. She was going to drown here! But surely she couldn’t, could she? Surely no danger could befall her in this paradise?

 

            She wasn’t given time to contemplate the matter, however. The water around her was now black and it wasn’t clean and fresh any more but thick and cloying. It felt like oil, suffocating her. She could no longer see where she was going and when she looked up the blue sky had gone, there was only darkness there. Her lungs began to ache with the effort of holding her breath and she kicked her legs desperately trying to reach the surface again. But it was useless, she couldn’t escape the darkness and now her whole body was burning with pain and exertion. She gave in, feeling her body go limp as the blackness descended upon even her conscious.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Faith jerked herself awake. Panic brought on by the dream still filled her as she opened her eyes to the darkness of the bedroom. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and she struggled to breathe. She fumbled for the bedside lamp and flicked on, her nerves only beginning to calm once she could see her surroundings clearly. Gunn lying at her side awoke and groaned at the sudden intrusion of the bright light. Squinting his eyes against the light he peered up at Faith, concern overriding his initial feelings of annoyance at having his sleep so abruptly disturbed. 

 

            “Are you OK?” He asked.

 

            Faith nodded mutely, unable to speak until she had her breathing under control once more. “Nightmare.” She managed to force out.

 

            Gunn pulled her into a tight, reassuring embrace, feeling her shaking uncontrollably against him. She’d been having a lot of bad dreams lately, but none as distressing as this one. “Do you want to sleep with the light on, baby?” He asked.

 

            Faith pulled away from him. “No, it’s alright. I’m a big girl. I’m not frightened of the dark,” she spoke defensively. “I’m just going to go check on Hope.” She climbed out of bed and away out the room, leaving Gunn alone and desperately worried about the welfare of his girlfriend.

 

            They had not spoken about Faith losing her abilities as the slayer since she’d told him over a month ago. In fact they’d not really spoken at all since then, at least not in any depth. All their conversations had been about practicalities or small talk. Mundane things like work, or looking after Hope, or the weather. Gunn wanted to say so many things; like that he was glad the only thing wrong with Faith was that she was no longer the slayer. He had been so afraid that it would be something far worse - that she could be ill or dying - that to discover it was only her enhancced strength, not her health, that was in jeopardy was a great relief.

 

He knew Faith didn’t feel the same way, though, so he couldn’t mention it. To Faith losing her powers was like the end of the world. She had been wondering round in a depressed state ever since she found out and he thought this was what the dreams were about as well. To be quite honest he didn’t really understand what the problem was. Sure, he’d be upset if he lost something he took so much for granted, but surely the sacrifice was worth it for their daughter’s sake. He only hoped that in time Faith would come to terms with things and start to see it this way too.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy lay in bed, also unable to sleep. She was just enjoying the quiet time, savouring the rare opportunity just to lie close to Angel and enjoy his proximity in silent contemplation. All too often their lives were filled with action and anxiety. They were constantly too busy dealing with vampires, or demons, or people in trouble, to just take time out just to be close to one another. And when they did get some spare time they were usually too exhausted or too distracted by making love or discussing work to relax into comfortable silences together. And when Buffy really thought about it she realised that it was these silences that she cherished most. She loved that feeling of complete and utter belonging when she just lay in Angel’s arms and she adored the way she could feel the love radiate between them even when no words were being spoken.

 

            That was the perfect thing about her and Angel’s relationship – that they didn’t need words. Maybe when they had first got together they were both insecure enough about themselves and each other to need spoken reassurances but now all she had to do was look into Angel’s eyes to know that he loved her completely and would never leave her again. Now she couldn’t even imagine living without this daily, silent affirmation of his love and commitment. How she had survived without him for six years she never knew.

 

            She turned over in bed to face her lover and was pleased, but not particularly surprised to find that he was awake also. She smiled to herself, that was the thing about Angel, you could never tell if he was sleeping or not, until he opened his eyes. Usually, you could tell if someone was asleep by their breathing patterns, but as Angel didn’t breathe this was impossible. At least it meant he didn’t snore, she thought to herself then giggled at the thought.

 

            “What?” Asked Angel softly, brushing a stray hair away from her face.

 

            “Oh, I was just thinking about how wonderful you are.” She answered teasingly.

 

            “In that case, carry on then.” He smiled.

 

            “Only if I get a kiss first.”

 

            He obliged, brushing his lips ever so gently over hers, his touch feather light.

 

            She pouted. “I meant a proper kiss.”

 

            “Oh, I see.” Angel shifted down the bed, so that his gaze was exactly level with Buffy’s and cupped her head in one hand, entangling his fingers in her hair. He guided her face towards his and crushed their mouths together in a deep passionate kiss. She responded eagerly, running her own hands through his hair and over his smooth chest and shoulders. As his kisses moved from her mouth, down her body, she revised her earlier statement. Perhaps there were a few things she enjoyed more than just quiet contemplation, after all.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Faith sat in the kitchen alone, staring down at her untouched breakfast. After being woken by the dream the night before, she hadn’t dared go back to sleep. Instead she sat in a chair besides Hope’s crib, comforted by the proximity of her baby daughter and reliving the visions from her dream of the same child ten years older. By the time the sky began to lighten in the east Faith’s fatigue had got the better of her and she was dozing quietly still in the chair. This time there had been no dreams just the thick fog of sleep, which she had struggled to awaken from and still felt clinging to her even after having been up and dressed for over an hour.

 

            Gunn had left for work that morning without saying more than a few words to her. Faith knew that he was feeling hurt and angry at her recent attitude towards him. Last night, when she had refused to let him comfort her following her nightmare was not the first time Faith had pushed Gunn away, it had been happening more and more frequently lately. Faith knew that she shouldn’t be doing it, that what had happened to her wasn’t his fault, so she shouldn’t be taking it out on him. But she couldn’t help it. Gunn didn’t even seem sympathetic that she’d lost her slaying powers. If fact he almost seemed to view it as a good thing. All the better to keep me at home looking after his child and doing his washing, Faith thought irrationally and totally unfairly. She knew that was not Gunn’s opinion at all, but he wouldn’t make any effort to see her point of view, so why should she bother to try and understand his?

 

            Faith almost regretted having Hope - almost but not quite. How could she regret bringing her own child, whom she loved so dearly, into the world? Having Hope was Faith’s one greatest achievement; it was the one thing she had ever done that wasn’t selfish or destructive. She was finally giving back some love and goodness to the world, how could she regret that? But the consequences – she regretted them all right. Without her slayer powers she felt so useless, so helpless, so frightened and nobody seemed to appreciate that. Even Buffy, whom Faith had thought would be most sympathetic with her plight, had offered no more than a few token words in support. Faith felt totally and utterly alone; there was no one to understand what she was going through.

 

            Before she had become the slayer, Faith had not had a good life. Her childhood wasn’t exactly something she looked back upon with fond memories. She’d never known her parents, but instead had been shunted between various children’s homes and foster families. She had felt so out of control of her own life, she didn’t even know where she would be living from one month to the next. Essentially, she had been a scared little girl afraid of her own future. Then she had been Called. Suddenly she had all this new strength and confidence. She was powerful, she was important. She could do whatever she wanted with her life.

 

            So, she had. She had taken charge and come to Sunnydale - then look what had happened. She’d let the darkness from her childhood swallow her again. She’d slipped into its silky waters and nearly drowned, until Angel had thrown her a lifeline. This time there was no darkness yet, but it would come and now she no longer had the strength to fight it. Without her slayer powers she was weak and she was useless. She was back to being that frightened little girl again and she couldn’t bear it.

 

            Faith pushed away her breakfast and began to prepare a meal for Hope. There was no hurry; she would not be going into the office today, or any other day in the near future. She had stopped going into work after she had found out. There was really no reason for her to bother now. She couldn’t help them fight anymore, she didn’t have the patience or the intellect to help with researching and there was no way she was going to join Cordelia in the filing. Even the former May Queen was more use to them than Faith was - at least Cordy had visions, Faith had nothing.

 

            She took a jar of baby food from the cupboard. This was her life now, staying home and looking after Hope. Doling out strained carrots and changing diapers was all she was good for. It wasn’t exactly as if she had any other talents, she hadn’t needed any. She was the slayer - that was all that had mattered. She didn’t need an education or a job she had a calling. But now that calling was gone and only a feeling of emptiness was left in its wake. She went to open the jar she was holding, but found she couldn’t. No matter how hard she twisted the lid wouldn’t budge. How pathetic am I? She thought angrily to herself. I can’t even open a jar without help. She flung the glass container at the wall with an agonised scream. It broke open on impact, leaving a dent in the plaster and rivulets of an orangey mush oozing down the wall.

 

            At the sound of Faith’s yell and of smashing glass Hope began to cry. Faith gathered the baby into her arms and began to rock her gently. Still holding tightly to Hope, Faith sank down into the corner of the room and began to weep herself. Gunn was always begging her to talk to him, always wanting her to explain how she was feeling. But how could she? How could he understand that for the better part of her life she had been The Slayer, that it had defined her whole personality and now that it had been taken away from her there was nothing left. If she wasn’t the slayer then she was nobody.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            “What would you like to order, honey?”

 

            “Oh, I don’t know,” came the simpering reply. “I just can’t decide between the lemon chicken or the plaice in white wine sauce. What do you think sweetheart?”

 

            Buffy tried desperately to hide her distaste at the way her father and his wife (My stepmother!!) fawned over one another. It was disgusting, she was half his age and barely older than Buffy. Not to mention the fact she had not a single iota of intelligence to speak of. She couldn’t even decide what she wanted for lunch for God’s sake! She narrowed her eyes in a disapproving glare as Veronica (‘Call me Ronnie for short, darling, everybody does.’) draped her hand over Hank Summers’ knee. Three guesses as to why he married her, Buffy thought to herself. I’ll give you a clue - it wasn’t for her personality.

 

            “I thought you were vegetarian.” Buffy remarked with false sweetness.

 

            “Ronnie’s demi-vegetarian, Buffy.” Hank explained patiently. “That means she can eat white meat and fish. Isn’t that right, baby?”

 

            Veronica flashed a brilliant smile at Buffy, displaying her perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. Buffy merely buried her head in the menu, wondering how much longer she would have to put up with this display before she could leave. She wanted to keep in contact with her father, after all he was her father and she did love him. She shared half her DNA with him, so she kind of had to love him, but this did not mean she had to love his choice of wife. After Buffy’s mom had died Hank Summers had begun to date a long line of beautiful young women. Buffy hadn’t been particularly bothered by this, as long as she didn’t have to have anything to do with her father’s love life then that was OK with her. Then he had gone and done the unthinkable and actually married one of these vacuous women.

 

            At first Buffy had tried to like Veronica, she really had, but when that had proved impossible to achieve she just had to be content with tolerating the woman. Now even that was becoming difficult and Buffy had to use all her self-restraint not to lean across the table and strangle ‘Ronnie’ with the strap of her own Versace handbag. But as much as Buffy would enjoy this, it wouldn’t do much to improve relations between her and her father, which were pretty fraught to start with. So, she would just have to smile her way through the next hour or so then remember to insist upon seeing her father alone next time.

 

            “Do you mind if we skip the starters, Dad?” She asked. “I shouldn’t really be away from the office too long. Angel’s expecting me back.” The sooner she could get out of there, the less chance there was of Veronica suffering actual bodily harm.

 

            Her father’s brow creased. “Speaking of Angel,” he remarked ominously. “You’ve been living with this man for over a year now and I still haven’t met him. Why not?”

 

            Buffy opened her mouth to reply then promptly shut it again. It’s not like she could give the honest answer, anyway. Instead she settled for a barbed retort. “You never seemed interested in meeting him before.”

 

            “That’s because I shouldn’t have to ask.” Hank responded huffily. “Excuse me for thinking that my daughter would want to introduce me to the man she’s chosen to spend her life with.”

 

            “Don’t get upset, honey.” Veronica interjected. “She’s probably just worried you won’t like him.”

 

Buffy glared at her stepmother. Since when did she get a say in the matter?

 

“Is that it, Buffy?” Hank took on the role of overprotective father. “Is there some reason I won’t like this guy?”

 

“Of course not!” Apart from the fact he’s a vampire and 200 plus years older than me. “Angel’s great.”

 

“So, when do I get to meet him and find out for myself?”   

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Faith fought to regain consciousness. She’d only lain down on the sofa to rest her eyes after being awake for most of the night. Not only had she fallen deeply asleep, but also she didn’t seem to be able to wake up again. She felt like she was being dragged downwards into a haze of unconsciousness. It felt like she was drowning as she had in her dream. Every so often she would break the surface of wakefulness and be able to force her eyes open. Then she would sink back into sleep again. Now matter how much she struggled, the pull of fatigue was too strong. It just kept winning and each time she descended into the blackness she had no idea how long she was under before she awoke again.

 

            Eventually her slumber was broken by the sound of Hope crying. Her mind managed to find its usual alertness, but her body was still unresponsive. She tried to move but her arms and legs just felt so heavy, like they had no strength left in them. She felt as though she’d just run a marathon but in reality she hadn’t actually left the house all day. She had a headache as well, a dull, fuzzy pain behind her eyes. Maybe she was going down with the flu or something. Or maybe this is just what it feels like to have the body of a normal woman, she thought bitterly. She gathered together all her remaining energy and stood up off the sofa. The sudden rush of blood to her head made her dizzy. I feel awful, she thought. And whatever the reason why, I hate it.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Angel discarded another book, declaring it as useless. It had no information on the Sword of Laquel that he was supposed to be researching for a client. The man collected rare and prized artefacts and wanted the sword locating, so he could buy it. This wasn’t normally the sort of work Angel would do, but the client was a millionaire and was paying them enough money to cover the costs of running the agency for a whole year. Angel was also glad of the opportunity to do some simple book research in private. Things were a little fraught around the office at the moment. Gunn was having problems with Faith. Cordelia was upset because John was away in England for three months making his directorial debut on a film he had also written. Wesley also seemed to be in a bad mood for reasons nobody was clear on. Thus, Angel was more than happy to seclude himself in his office with his books, away from the tense atmosphere.

 

            His peace and quiet didn’t last long, however, as Buffy soon arrived back after lunch with her father. As interruptions went it was one of the better ones, Angel thought as she came over to kiss him on the cheek in greeting and settled herself with a sigh in the chair opposite his.

 

            “How did it go?” He asked.

 

            She smiled ruefully up at him. “Veronica’s still in one piece, so I suppose it went well.” She hesitated for a moment, as if she had something to say, but was afraid of how it would sound. Angel looked at her pointedly, indicating she should continue. “Um, Angel,” she said. “My father wants to meet you.”

 

            Angel raised his eyebrows. “I wondered when that was going to come up.”

 

            “Do you mind?” Asked Buffy nervously.

 

            He reached out to touch her hand across the desk. “Of course I don’t mind.”

 

            “Veronica will be there as well.” She added darkly.

 

            “Actually I’m quite intrigued to meet her after all these horror stories you’ve told me about her.”    

 

            Buffy laughed and absentmindedly tightened her grip on Angel’s hand. “I wish things were a little easier between me and Dad. I want to be close to him, I really do. It’s just that there are so many problems between us getting in the way.” She sighed. “I never really forgave him for leaving me and Mom and then I barely had any contact with him for years. And now he seems more occupied with Veronica than with me. I just don’t know what to do to make things right between us.”

 

            “You’re probably better off asking someone who didn’t murder their father.” Angel tried to joke but it came out flat.

 

            Buffy kept hold of Angel’s hand and looked at him quizzically. “You’ve never told me about your family or your life before you were turned.”

 

            He looked away uncomfortably. “I don’t exactly like talking about the past. There aren’t many happy memories.”

 

            “Not even from when you were human?”

 

            “No. You have to be in a pretty dark place already before you’ll let a vampire turn you.” He said by way of explanation.

 

            “I thought you didn’t get much choice in the matter.”

 

            Angel smiled sadly. “There’s always a choice, Buffy.”

 

            She walked round the desk and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You can talk to me about anything, you know. I’ll understand.” She held eye contact with him for a couple of seconds, to reinforce her point. “Now, I’ve gotta call my Dad. Dinner tomorrow night all right with you?” She thought for a moment. “Better make it drinks.”

 

            Angel nodded and she left the room. He tried to go back to his research, but found he couldn’t concentrate. He was too distracted thinking about the memories Buffy had stirred up. Would she really understand if he told her? There were some things he didn’t even want to contemplate himself, let alone talk about with Buffy. Like how he had killed his whole family. He had murdered hundreds, probably thousands of people in his time, but the vast majority of those deaths he could blame on the demon. He had killed for sport, for the blood and for the pleasure of the act, but his father he had killed for revenge. It had been a personal thing, he hadn’t just wanted the enjoyment of the killing, he had wanted the man dead.

 

            Becoming a vampire had made it possible for Angel to kill his father but it was something he’d already contemplated doing as a man. That was what scared Angel the most; the fact that there had been darkness in him already before the demon ever came along. His soul was in no way pure, and for many years after being cursed it was just the feelings of guilt that stopped him from killing again. He had helped people not to make amends or to gain redemption, but to lessen the guilt and feel better about himself. His acts of altruism had been more selfish than selfless.

 

            Meeting Buffy had begun to change that, though. He’d started interacting with the human race again and the more he saw of people, the more he actually wanted to relieve their suffering not just his own. Suddenly he wanted to be a good person, he wanted to deserve the love Buffy showed him and the friendship he found through her. He’d been trying to drive the darkness out of his soul since then, but it took work, especially as he had to fight the demon at the same time. However, he felt he made a little bit of progress with each person he helped or each soul he saved. And it was all thanks to Buffy. Maybe he could tell her that.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            The next day Buffy found she had little to do around the office, so she decided to pay Faith a visit. So far the general consensus had been to leave Faith alone for a while and let her sort out the situation in her own head. The last thing anybody wanted was for Faith to think they were interfering in her life, because that was only likely to provoke a hostile reaction. But it had been a while since Buffy had seen Faith and Gunn had let it slip that she wasn’t doing all that well, so Buffy thought a friendly visit might help. Besides, she was dying to see Hope again. The baby was just so cute.

 

            She knocked on the door and was surprised when Faith answered it still in her pyjamas and robe.

 

            “Sleep late did ya?” Buffy asked lightly.

 

            “Something like that.” Replied Faith before moving aside to let Buffy in. The apartment was a mess, Buffy noticed. Faith and Gunn had never been the tidiest people and it was always difficult to keep things clean when you were busy looking after a baby, but this was bad. It was obvious no dusting or vacuuming had been done for any length of time, dirty dishes were piled in the sink, a huge pile of unwashed laundry sat in the corner and Hope’s toys were strewn all over the floor. To Buffy, who had grown used to Angel’s obsessive cleanliness, this was shocking. She tried to ignore it, however, and went to sit down on the one part of the sofa that was free of discarded clothes.

 

            “So, how have you been?” Enquired Buffy brightly.

 

            “Fine.” Faith was on the defensive.

 

            “Yeah, cause you really look fine.” Buffy said sceptically, registering the change in Faith. She wore no make-up whereas she was usually plastered with the stuff. Her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted, though Buffy knew from Gunn that she rarely even left the house anymore. “It’s gone eleven in the morning and you’re not even dressed yet.”

 

            Faith’s eyes flashed angrily, the first sign of life Buffy had seen from her since she arrived. “If you’re going to insult me then you can just leave.”

 

            “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Buffy tried to pacify her. “I’m just worried, that’s all. Everybody is.”

 

            “You could have fooled me.”

 

            “We just thought you needed some time alone to come to terms with things.” Buffy told her softly. “When you stopped coming into the office, we didn’t want to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. We wanted to let you deal with this in your own way.”

 

            “But my own way isn’t proving very successful, right?” Faith managed a small grin.

 

            “Why don’t you start coming back into work?”

 

            “I can’t.” Faith said in a small voice. “You don’t need me there. There’s nothing I can do to help anymore. And I’d have to bring Hope, we’d just get in the way.”

 

            “Of course you wouldn’t get in the way,” Buffy reassured her hurriedly. “And I’ve really missed having Hope around.”

 

            “Maybe I’ll come in when I feel better.” Faith said with resignation, like she couldn’t find the effort to argue with anything Buffy put forward.

 

            “Are you really all right?” Buffy asked in concern.

 

            Faith hesitated. “I…I’ve just been really tired lately. I’ve been having these dreams.”

 

            “What kind of dreams?”

 

            “It’s stupid. They’re nothing. I just haven’t been sleeping well that’s all. And I think I’ve got some virus or something. You should probably go before I pass it on to you.” She stood up and walked towards the door. Buffy had no option but to leave, she could tell where she was not wanted.

 

            “OK,” Buffy touched Faith’s hand. “But, if you want to talk or if you need anything, you can just call, all right.”

 

            Faith pulled her hand away from Buffy’s and looked away. “Sure,” she muttered.

 

            Buffy left feeling even more worried about Faith than she had before she’d arrived. Buffy remembered all to vividly occasions when she’d been without her slayer strength, like for her eighteenth birthday test or times she’d been ill. Then she’d felt so vulnerable and so helpless, she couldn’t imagine what Faith must be going through now that she’d lost that strength permanently. Whatever she was going through she wasn’t dealing with it very well, however. She seemed to have given up on life completely and Buffy didn’t know whether to believe she was telling the truth about being ill or not. She resolved to speak to Angel about it – he would know what to do. It would have to wait until after they’d dealt with this evening’s encounter with her father, though.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            When Gunn arrived home the apartment was in an even worse state than he’d left it. He grimaced at the squalor and went into the kitchen in search of some clean plates to eat the take-out he had brought home for dinner off. Gunn himself was a disaster in the culinary area and he could no more persuade Faith to cook at the moment than he could persuade her to clean. After successfully locating their last two clean plates he served the Chinese food out on to them and put one in the microwave to reheat. Then he went in search of Faith.

 

            He found her in Hope’s room, fast asleep in the chair next to the crib. Her body was tense and her eyelids flickered in an unmistakable indication that she was dreaming. Gunn decided to leave her be, Faith’s dreams hadn’t been very pleasant lately and he remembered some old wives tale about never waking people up when they were in middle of a nightmare. At best it would guarantee she remembered the dream and at worst suddenly being jolted out of sleep would upset Faith even further. He wondered how long she’d been like that and whether she’d done anything else all day except doze fitfully. Buffy had come round for a visit, he knew, but he hadn’t found out much of what passed between the two women. He still didn’t really get on very well with Buffy, even now after she’d been at Angel Investigations for over a year. The two of them had just nothing in common to bond over, he supposed. Not that you could ever drag her away from Angel long enough for a decent conversation, he thought bitterly.

 

            He looked around Hope’s room absentmindedly and suddenly noticed it was the tidiest in the whole apartment. All of Hope’s clothes were clean and tidied away, all her dirty diapers were properly disposed of and a stack of newly sterilised bottles stood on top of the cabinet, waiting to be filled with formula. At least Faith was still taking good care of Hope even if she was letting everything else in her life lapse. He heard the familiar ‘ding’ of the microwave sound and headed back to the kitchen to eat his dinner, covering Faith’s meal with cling film and storing it in the near empty refrigerator as he did so.

 

            Faith was still sleeping by the time he’d finished eating, she’d been doing a lot of that recently. And when she wasn’t asleep she was busy yawning and complaining how exhausted she was. Gunn couldn’t understand how she could do so little and still be so tired all the time, but whenever he tried to broach the subject she just snapped at him, complaining that he didn’t understand what she was going through. But how could he understand if she never explained it to him? He was at a complete loss as to what to do with Faith. He just kept hoping that whatever was bothering her would go away in time and they could get back to being the happy family they were supposed to be. Why was it that nothing ever turned out how it was supposed to?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Angel paced about his and Buffy’s apartment nervously. It had been a bad idea to invite Buffy’s father over here, he had known it from the moment Buffy had suggested it. For a start they were supposed to be having drinks and it wasn’t exactly like he had an extensive liquor selection, neither he nor Buffy were habitual drinkers – though maybe that would count in his favour with Mr Summers. For this evening, though, he had bought several bottles of expensive wine (both red and white) and his preferred Irish malt whiskey, which was about the extent to which his expertise on alcoholic beverages extended. He had also made Buffy choose a selection of nibbles to go with the drinks.

 

            Buffy had initially laughed at his eagerness to impress her father and his anxiety over the meeting. After all, if anything Angel was Hank Summers’ senior as he was the elder by 200 years, and there was no way anything her father said would change the way she felt about Angel. But he had explained that the last thing he wanted was for his relationship with Buffy to become another source of contention between her and her father. Her response to this had been to kiss him softly on the lips and to rush off to pick out something for him to wear.

 

            Now, dressed in the smart black trousers and dark maroon shirt Buffy had chosen, he checked his watch for about the tenth time in the last minute. Buffy had issued the invitation for around eightish, and it was now three minutes past. They should be here any minute.

 

            “Sit down.” Buffy commanded teasingly, patting a seat on the sofa next to her. “All your pacing is making me dizzy.”

 

            Angel smiled slightly and perched on the edge of the couch, ready to jump up again at the slightest notice. Buffy was having none of this, however, and pulled him backwards towards her so she could lean her head against his shoulder.

 

            “I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” she said softly. “Dad’s gonna love you, he can’t help but be impressed by those old fashioned manners of yours.”

 

            He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “I’m living in sin with his daughter. He’ll hate me just for that. And let’s face it, I was never very popular with your Mom.”

 

            She looked up at him, expression tinged with sadness at the memory. “Mom didn’t always see the best side of you.”

 

            He looked away, appreciating her subtle reference to Angelus. He had just opened his mouth to speak when he heard the sound of footfalls on the stairs. Seconds later there was a knock on the door. Angel stood and took a deep unnecessary breath; meanwhile, Buffy slipped past him and went to answer the door.

 

            Angel shook hands with Hank Summers and noticed the other man eying him appraisingly. He smiled nervously then turned to greet Veronica. She was wearing a rather too short and tight red dress and he was rather taken aback when she flashed him a dazzling grin and kissed him warmly on the cheek. Buffy, he realised, was also none too impressed by this display. He took hold of her hand, needing the reassurance of contact between them, but not wanting to appear too possessive of Buffy in front of her father. She squeezed his hand in return and disappeared into the kitchen to fetch the wine, whilst Angel seated the guests.

 

            Much to Angel’s dismay Veronica Summers insisted on positioning herself on the sofa next to him, whereas Hank took one of the leather chairs. After some cursory remarks about the apartment, the topic of conversation turned to Angel’s detective agency. Angel answered all Mr Summers’ questions politely, whilst Buffy served the drinks. Once settled back with a tumbler of malt whiskey, Hank fixed Angel with a protective father’s steely gaze.

 

            “I must say, Angel,” he remarked. “I can think of better professions that private investigations for my daughter to become involved with.”

 

            “Dad!” Buffy hissed in a low, warning voice.

 

            Angel covered her hand with his to placate her; the last thing he wanted was for an argument to break out. “Well, I can assure you, it’s nothing like what you see in the movies. Most people have the impression that being a PI means running around, carrying a gun and getting into dangerous situations. But mainly it’s just researching and following paper trails.” Buffy squeezed his hand, acknowledging his half-truths. “For example, the main case we’re working at the moment involves tracing a rare artefact for a rich collector.”

 

            “So, do you even have a weapon’s license?” Hank asked.

 

            Angel shook his head and decided to tell the honest truth. “I’ve no need for one, really.”

 

            Buffy’s father nodded slowly then gestured to the display of crosses axes and swords mounted on the wall. “What’s this then?”

 

            Angel met the other man’s gaze square on. “They’re antiques. I’m a collector.”

 

            Hank dropped his eyes from Angel and muttered something unintelligible. He would not be distracted from his argument, however, and soon came up with another tack. “Surely, it isn’t a very stable profession, though. I mean it’s difficult enough to keep any business afloat nowadays, let alone something as unpredictable as a detective agency.”

 

            “Leave the man alone, Hank.” Veronica purred. “He doesn’t need the third degree from you. Besides,” she draped a hand seductively over Angel’s knee. “I think the idea of a big, bad private eye is rather sexy. And I’ll bet Buffy does too.”

 

            Angel shifted uncomfortably and gingerly removed Veronica’s hand. Everyone tried their best to ignore her comment except Buffy, who was now glaring daggers at her stepmother.  Angel cleared his throat nervously and went back to trying to respond to Mr Summers’ original remark. “Um, usually that would be true. But the business has been up and running for seven years now and it’s more successful than it’s ever been. I think I can safely say we’re well and truly established here in LA.”

 

            Hank looked him suspiciously. “Seven years?” He asked. “But Buffy told me you were the same age as her – 26. Wouldn’t that have made you nineteen when you set up the business? That’s a little young to be embarking on such an elaborate venture. And didn’t you go to college?”

 

            Angel exchanged a nervous glance with Buffy who jumped up of the sofa in order to deliberately cause distract her father from his current train of thought. “Uh, I think there’s some canapés I left in the kitchen. And if I don’t fetch them now, I’ll forget about them altogether. Angel, will you come and help me, please?”

 

            Angel stood, grateful for his girlfriend’s ingenuity, but Veronica also rose at his side. “Buffy,” she said sweetly. “I feel terrible just sitting here, letting you do all the hard work. Why don’t Angel and I go sort out the food and you catch up with your Dad.” She linked arms with an unsuspecting Angel and proceeding to guide him in the direction of the kitchen. This was just too much for Buffy to stand and she lost all semblance of the temper she had previously been struggling to keep under control.

 

            “That’s it!” She yelled at Veronica. “Get your hands off him! You-you vacuous slut!” The other woman looked shocked but did as she was told. Angel sighed heavily; he should have seen this coming. Buffy had a lot of unresolved issues with her father, but maybe now was not the time to bring them all up. He reached over to put a restraining hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off.

 

            Mr Summers was rising out of his chair already and glaring angrily at his daughter. “How dare you speak to my wife like that!” He told Buffy in a shaky voice. “Apologise to her at once.”

 

            Buffy stared back defiantly. “I will not. I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad. And you can’t order me around like I’m one. I’ve changed since you left, you know. But you never bothered to learn about those changes.” Hank went very pale, opened his mouth to speak then changed his mind and closed it again. Buffy continued. “And now look at you. Running around with some floozy on your arm, whom we all know you didn’t marry for her intellect and witty repartee. You bring her into my home and she throws herself at my boyfriend. You’re making a fool of yourself, don’t you even realise?”

 

            Hank raised a trembling finger in the direction of Buffy and pointed at her accusingly. “Buffy Anne Summers, I am your father-”

 

            He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, though, as Buffy interrupted him angrily. “No, you’re not. You stopped being my father when you left me. Fathers are there for their children. They’re loving and caring and supportive and understanding. You were none of those things. How can you be my father when you don’t even know me!” By the time she reached the end of her tirade tears were coursing down her cheeks. She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror as she realised what she had said and that the words, once spoken, could never be retracted. And she ran out of the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy’s departure left an awkward silence in her wake. Angel looked over at Mr and Mrs Summers, both of whom wore shocked expressions. He was lost for words, his social skills weren’t exactly brilliant at the best of times and he was completely unprepared to deal with a situation like this. The silence stretched a little further until Hank Summers broke it by announcing he was leaving.

 

            “No.” Angel commanded, surprising himself with the vehemence of the statement. “If you go now then you’ll never sort things out with Buffy. Do you really want to leave things like this?” He asked.

 

            Hank looked down at the floor then across at his young wife. “You better go wait in the car, honey.” He addressed Veronica. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

 

            She left the apartment reluctantly, shooting a killing glance towards the door behind which Buffy had retreated as she did so. After his wife had departed Hank turned to Angel and levelled a questioning stare at the other man. “Why should I stay after the things she said to me?”

 

            Angel met his stare coldly. “Because you’re her father and hopefully you care enough about her to want to ever see her again.”

 

            Hank paled visibly at the thought of losing all contact with his daughter. He sunk back down into the chair he had vacated a couple of minutes earlier. “Has it really come to that?” He asked in a defeated voice.

 

            Angel nodded. “I think it has, but you can still mend things now. If you’re willing to make the effort.”

 

            Buffy’s father seemed lost for words. “I-I don’t want to lose her.” He said very quietly. “I didn’t know that she felt that way. That she’s still upset about me divorcing her mother or about Veronica.”

 

            “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about Buffy.”

 

            “I’m beginning to see that now.” Hank sighed deeply. “All these years I’ve still thought of her as my little girl. Like if I bought her a new pair of ice skates or took her to the zoo, then suddenly it would make everything better. But I guess it doesn’t work like that anymore.”

 

            Angel sat down in a chair opposite Hank and spoke softly. “Maybe it never worked like that. It was just easier to pretend that it did.” He paused briefly, considering what he next had to say, then continued. “Buffy’s life hasn’t been easy…for reasons you couldn’t even begin to understand. When she needed you, you weren’t there. And that hurt she may never get over. You can never get back the time you lost, but you can build something new. You just have to convince her to trust you again.”

 

            Mr Summers looked over at Angel with worried eyes. “But, what if she can’t forgive me? What if she doesn’t want to see me again? You heard what she said.”

 

            Angel placed a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Let me talk to her. She was just upset, that’s all, and jealous.”

 

            Hank looked confused. “Jealous? Of you and Ronnie?”

 

            Angel shook his head. “No, jealous of you and Veronica.”

 

            “But I don’t understand…”

 

            “You will.” Angel said firmly then disappeared into the bedroom to confront the much more difficult task of dealing with Buffy.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy sat in bed, fully clothed, with the blankets pulled up to her chin. Her eyes stared straight out in front of her, unseeing and her cheeks were red with tears. She barely reacted when Angel walked in the room and didn’t move as he wordlessly enveloped her in his strong embrace. As he stroked her hair she began to relax in his arms and leant her head against his chest. She stayed like that for several minutes, just soaking in his unspoken gesture of support and love. He was there for her; that was all she needed to know. After a while she voiced her thoughts in a tearful whisper.

 

            “God, I shouldn’t have said those things.”

 

            He pulled her a little tighter. “Maybe they needed to be said.”

 

            She shook her head. “But not like that.”

 

            Angel separated their embrace slightly and kissed her on the forehead. “No, not like that.” He agreed.

 

            She studied his gaze, loving and understanding. Somehow nothing felt quite as bad when she was in Angel’s arms. She tried not to smile. “I called his wife a vacuous slut.” He regarded her seriously and she giggled slightly. Maybe some of the insults were going to be harder to regret than others.

 

            “You should go out and talk to him.” Angel suggested and Buffy immediately stiffened.

 

            “You mean he hasn’t gone? He always left before.” She said in a hollow empty voice.

 

            “I got him to stay.” Angel replied quietly. “You two still need to resolve some things.”

 

            “Not now, Angel.” Buffy insisted. How could she face him now, with the memory of what she had just said so raw in her mind? “I can’t see him just yet.”

 

            “Then when?” Angel asked patiently. “Tomorrow? Next week? The longer you leave it the harder it’s going to be and before you know it, things will be irreconcilable between you. And you don’t want that Buffy, believe me you really don’t.”

           

            “Angel?” She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “Did something happen between you and your father? I mean, before you were turned?”

 

            He met her gaze sadly. “It was all a very long time ago.”

 

            “Yes, but if you still think about it today…”

 

            He silenced her. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it soon, but not now. Now you need to sort things out with your father. You can still have a future with him. Mine’s been dead and buried these last 250 years.”

 

            She nodded slightly, the pain in her life suddenly seeming insignificant compared to what Angel had faced in his. Buffy dragged herself reluctantly out of Angel’s arms, kissing him softly on the lips as she did so. “I guess I’d better go talk to him then.”

 

            Angel nodded. “Yes, you’d better.” He smoothed down her tousled hair with his long fingers, tucking the final few errant strands behind her ears. “Just don’t be too hard on him, he loves you too.”

 

            Buffy smiled and walked back into the main room, where her father was waiting for her. Sitting slumped in the large leather chair he looked tired and old. She wondered when he had changed from the strong, vibrant man who used to carry her on his shoulders to become so middle aged and lifeless. Then she often also wondered when she had changed from being that little girl he carried. Her lower lip trembled as she remembered all the times they’d had together, both the happy and the sad.

 

            “I’m sorry, Dad.” She said in a small voice.

 

            He looked up at her and hope seemed to almost visibly spring in his eyes. “No, I’m sorry.” He replied in not much more than a whisper. He rose out of the chair and crossed the room towards her. Tentatively he took her into his arms and she hugged him back tightly. Suddenly the years melted away from them and she was six again, greeting her father with a hug when he came home from work. But she wasn’t six and you just couldn’t wipe away nearly fifteen years of hurt and neglect with one embrace. She pulled away from him, tears stinging her eyes. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it was a start.

 

            “So, where do we go from here?” She asked with a slight smile.

 

            “I don’t know.” Hank Summers replied. “I just don’t know what to say to make things better between us.”

 

            “Then don’t say anything.” Buffy responded. “Let me speak, but promise you’ll listen.”

 

            He nodded weakly. “I promise.”

 

            “Good.” Buffy paused briefly before beginning her difficult speech. “Some of the things I said to you Dad were unfair. They were uncalled for and they were malicious and I’m sorry for the way I said them. But I had my reasons for saying them, that you have to appreciate.” She looked up to gauge her father’s reaction and saw that he was following every word she said with rapt attention. She continued. “You weren’t there for me, Dad, when I needed you. You weren’t there and that hurt me. When-when Mom died,” her voice broke with emotion but she carried on speaking. “I found her body on the couch. She was just lying there staring into space and I couldn’t wake her up. I didn’t know what to do.

 

            “It should have been you I called then. You should have come and taken charge of the situation, but you didn’t.” Her tone was not accusing, she merely stated the bare facts. “It was Giles I ended up calling. He came and took charge and he supported me. He has been more of a father to me than you ever have and the fact that you don’t even know who I’m talking about proves how little you really know about my life.” She turned towards him and her eyes softened. “But I don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t be a father to me because you never learnt how.” She stopped to brush the tears away from her cheeks.

 

            “I didn’t mean for things to happen like this.” Hank spoke helplessly.

 

            Buffy reached over and touched his hand. “I know you didn’t and I’ve already said I don’t blame you. I don’t hate you either. I just feel like…like we have no relationship at all. Like when you and Mom split up that was it. I lost you then and I never got you back.”

 

            “I’m sorry.” He squeezed Buffy’s hand. “But I want to be here for you now. I want to get to know you properly and I want to find out about the years I’ve missed. Do you think that’ll be OK.”

 

            Buffy nodded. “I’d like that. But you have to understand that you can’t just slip into my life as my father again. I don’t need a father figure I found one already and what he couldn’t provide I learnt to live without.” She locked her eyes with his. “I could use a friend, though. Do you think you could manage that?”

 

            “I’d be honoured to be your friend, Buffy.” He smiled at her and they hugged briefly again.

 

            “One more thing.” Buffy added, as Hank prepared to leave. “About Veronica. I probably shouldn’t have called her a slut, but that doesn’t change the fact I really don’t like her.”

 

            He raised his eyebrows. “Angel said you were jealous of her.”

 

            Buffy laughed. “Oh, he did, did he?”

 

            Mr Summers nodded. “He said that you were jealous of my relationship with her.”

 

            Buffy slumped her shoulders and the smile disappeared from her face. “Maybe I am.” She admitted. “You always seem to pay so much more attention to her than you do to me.”

 

            “You never seemed to need the attention.” He replied. “You never asked for it and I suppose I just assumed you didn’t want it. Ronnie she’s so much more needy, she can’t cope on her own.”

 

            “Dad, just because I can deal with things on my own doesn’t mean that’s the way I want things to be.” She touched his arm softly. “I can’t pretend to understand what you see in Veronica, but if you’re happy with her then I’m happy for you. It would probably just be better for all of us if I see more of you without her, that’s all.”

 

            He smiled. “Consider it done. I don’t think Ronnie will be very keen to see much more of you after this evening, anyway.” He started putting on his coat. “I’d better go and take her home, she’ll be pretty mad that I made her wait in the car for so long.” Buffy smiled back at him. “Say goodbye to Angel for me.” Hank continued. “I like the guy. There’s still a lot about him I don’t get, but I like him. He seems to know what he’s talking about and he loves you a lot. And that last bit I can identify with.”

 

            “Thanks Dad.” Buffy kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s meet up again soon, OK?”

 

            “Just with no Veronica, right?”

 

            “Right.” She hustled him out the door. After he’d left she turned to see Angel watching her from the doorway of the bedroom. She smiled broadly as she advanced towards her lover. “Well, he likes you.”

 

            Angel cocked one eyebrow in her direction and returned the smile. “Who wouldn’t?” He asked in a low voice as he drew her into the bedroom.

           

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Faith spent the next few weeks in a haze. She seemed to be so very tired all the time. The days merged into one another and she slept through most of them. She only awoke when Hope awoke; the only tasks she completed were the feeding and the changing of her baby daughter. Gunn was concerned about her, she knew. He would kneel by her side as she sat half dozing on the sofa in living room and question her welfare in a low, worried voice. Other times he would lose his temper and yell at her to get up, to do something, anything except just lie there. As his frustrations got the better of him he would swear at her, call her lazy, fat, useless, just hoping the insults would provoke a reaction. They never did, she just didn’t have the energy to argue with him any more.

 

            There were visits from all her friends. Cordelia never stayed long. Faith could sense the other woman’s distaste at the sight of the messy apartment and of Faith’s lank, greasy hair and unwashed bathrobe. Whereas once this would have angered Faith – who was Cordelia to judge, with her perfect lifestyle, rich husband and two million dollar home in Beverly Hills – now she just let it all wash over her. She didn’t care anymore, not about anything. Except Hope, she still worried about Hope. Hope was her responsibility, her purpose in life and the one thing she was not going to fail at. She would stir her tired limbs every time she heard her daughter’s cry, though the effort required to do so seemed to be greater each time.

 

            Wesley would come and speak to her in that stiff British way of his. They had never really got over the awkwardness between them. The attitude taken had just been to forget the past and pretend it never happened. That had suited Faith, she’d never been one for heart to hearts, but it also meant that some of the old hurt and resentment still lingered. Yet underneath it all there was a strange affection between them – the type of loyalty only present in a Watcher/Slayer relationship.

 

Buffy and Angel visited the most frequently. Buffy would sit by her bedside or persuade Faith into the living room and would chat to her about inane things. Sometimes it would be the past and tales of monsters faced and conquered in Sunnydale. Other times Buffy would give updates of what was going on in her life and in the business. She spoke of an argument with her father and the improved relations that followed it. They even went to see an ice show together, something Buffy had not done with her father since she was a girl. All the while Faith would occasionally punctuate Buffy’s monologues with a tired comment or two and the other woman would smile and tell her how much better she was doing, even though it was clearly a lie.

 

Angel on these visits would say only a few cursory words. Never a big talker he was even worse at it when he got no or very little response from the person he was speaking to. Sometimes he would read to Faith as she cradled Hope in her arms and she loved that the best. She understood very little of what he read to her, mainly it was complex poetry or classical novels, but she adored the sound of his melodic voice painting images of beautiful places or undying love. Listening to him lulled her into pleasant dreams where she found an inner peace that was so severely lacking from the rest of her life. Mostly, though, Angel would stand in the corner of the room, deep in conversation with Gunn, their voices hushed and their expressions that of concern.

 

In due course the doctor was called. Clearly sleeping eighteen hours out of every day was not normal. Faith scoffed at this – when had anything she’d ever done been normal? This was not an argument she could use with the doctor, however, and he prescribed more anti-depressants. She took them but they made no difference. She was beginning to think nothing would make any difference. After a while she heard whispers of ME being mentioned. But the doctor didn’t believe in it. He said it was all in the mind and even if it was a physical illness then there was nothing the doctors could do for it. The only cure was rest and time.

 

So, she stayed as she was, never quite awake and in the real world. Her senses became duller everyday and she could feel her dreamland beckoning her. Every time she closed her eyes she was greeted with beautiful pictures or places. The colours were just so much brighter there and the feelings so much realer. Who could blame her for wanting to spend as much time dreaming as possible? Being there was just so much easier than facing her actual life. There she was strong and powerful and there she could do anything, be anyone she liked. Occasionally she would have nightmares. There would be endless blood and death and she could do nothing to stop it. She awoke from those abruptly and would spend hours afterwards in a near catatonic state, just staring up at the ceiling. But eventually sleep would come again and the pleasant dreams returned. The dreams needed her as much as she needed them. She belonged to them and she knew they would claim her in the end.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Buffy was still a little puzzled as to why Cordelia had been so keen to bring her shopping, but she hadn’t indulged herself in a girly shopping spree for a long time and Angel had encouraged her to go, so she went. And they had had the best time. If there was one area Cordy excelled in it was shopping. She knew exactly which stores to visit and all the shop assistants knew her by name. By lunchtime when they stopped to eat at a little brasserie Cordelia was loaded down with bags, whereas Buffy had only a few meagre purchases. The blonde slayer had much more self-restraint than her brunette friend as well as a much less forgiving bank balance. Angel always promised her access to plenty of money, in his 250-year existence he had built up a quite considerable savings account, but she felt guilty about spending it. Angel never threw his money around, mainly as it was mostly ill gotten gains he felt bad about squandering for his own benefit, so Buffy followed his example. They lived comfortably off the profits from the business, anyway, and they had each other, which was worth more than all the money in the world.

 

            After a very enjoyable lunch rounded off with a large slice of rich chocolate cake, which Buffy still felt guilty about – it would go straight to her hips – Cordelia insisted on dragging them out to buy formal wear. Buffy rallied against the needless extravagance, but Cordy was determined and when she set her mind to something there was no arguing with her. So, Buffy found herself in the designer boutique surrounded by beautiful dresses of all styles and colours. She pulled out a figure-hugging, black velvet number and held it against herself in the mirror. Angel would love this, she thought, they could match, both clad all in black. But Cordelia frowned and pulled the dress away from her, muttering something about finding a less funereal colour.

 

            Cordy rifled though the racks of dresses until she came across an exquisite gown of cream silk. It was floor length, virtually backless and embroidered all over with fine gold thread. There was a wrap that went with it in a light chiffon material, which appeared as delicate and as beautiful as spun gold. Cordy uttered a cry of triumph and presented the dress to Buffy, accompanied with an insistence that she try it on. Buffy was reluctant at first, it was a gorgeous dress, but when would she ever have cause to wear it? With a little more persuasion she gave in and disappeared into the changing rooms with the gown. When she emerged Cordelia’s face broke out into a huge grin.

 

            “That’s it. That’s the dress.” She said decisively. “Right, we’re buying it.”

 

            And that was the end of the matter, a mere five minutes later the dress was paid for and packed between delicate sheets of tissue paper and Cordelia had even managed to locate a pair of matching shoes. Buffy opened her mouth to protest at the proceedings, but she knew it would be futile and the dress was very beautiful and it had felt so wonderful on. She did gasp, however, when she saw the price tag but Cordy nonchalantly charged it to her own account at the store. Buffy had to object to this, she didn’t expect Cordelia to pay her way for her and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it, after all. Cordelia, though, merely smiled cryptically and told Buffy to ‘think of it of mine and John’s gift to you’. Buffy had been puzzled by the comment, but she didn’t have time to wonder as Cordy was already dragging her off to the beauty salon for an afternoon of pampering. At this point Buffy gave up objecting, resistance was beyond useless.

 

            Several hours later, massaged, waxed, manicured and coiffed, Buffy returned home. It had been a good day, she decided. It was nice to just let go for a while, to go and do the silly, fun things that normal people did. People who weren’t Vampire Slayers and didn’t kill demons for a living. Maybe she should go out with Cordelia more often. She let herself into the apartment and called out to Angel. He didn’t seem to be there. He hadn’t been in the office either, and it was already dark, so she assumed he must be out patrolling or on a case somewhere. It would have been nice of him to leave a note, she thought huffily. She went into the bedroom to change and noticed a single red rose lying on the linen bedspread. A smile crossed her face, as she went to retrieve the perfect bloom. Underneath it was a note written in Angel’s elegant hand on thick, cream card.

 

            Meet me on the roof, it said, and wear the dress. Buffy’s smile broadened as she realised that day’s shopping trip had been a set up and all part of some romantic gesture Angel had arranged beforehand. That must have been why Cordelia had been so keen to find her the perfect outfit. She unpacked the dress and changed into it, briefly touching up the make-up she had been given at the beauty salon before heading up towards the roof.

 

            What she saw there amazed her. The whole space was decorated with fairy lights and flowers and there was a whole crowd of people there. None of them yelled ‘surprise’, but they didn’t need to, she was stunned, anyway. All of her friends were here; there was Xander and Natasha, Giles and his wife, and she also spotted her father, mercifully without Veronica in tow. Cordelia gave her a slight wave, which Buffy acknowledged with a warm smile – Cordy was well and truly forgiven for her part in the charade. Finally, she spotted Angel, dressed in a tuxedo. To her he was devastatingly handsome however he dressed, but the formal wear only seemed to enhance the effect. Her eyes locked with his and suddenly they were the only two people who existed in the world.

 

            Angel walked towards her and reached out to clasp both her hands in his. “You look beautiful.” He whispered, awestruck.

 

            Buffy smiled almost shyly back at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She replied quietly. She squeezed his hands and blinked back the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. “Thank you.”

 

            Angel looked at her quizzically. “What for?”

 

            “For all this. For this wonderful, wonderful surprise.” She scanned the crowd again. “I can’t believe you brought everyone here.”

 

            Angel’s expression darkened slightly. “Not quite everyone,” he muttered. “Faith and Gunn declined the invitation. Apparently she’s still pretty bad.”

 

            Buffy nodded and her smile faded momentarily. “I’ll go and see her in the morning.” She dropped Angel’s hands. “But now, I’d better go and say hi to everybody.” She turned to move away from him but he caught her arm lightly.

 

            “Don’t you want the rest of your surprise first?” He asked in a low throaty voice.

 

            Buffy raised her eyebrows in astonished pleasure. “You mean there’s more?”

 

            Angel nodded and looked around to where several of their friends were watching them in amusement. He looked at Buffy oddly then suggested they go back downstairs for a minute. Puzzled but intrigued, she complied with his suggestion. Once back in the apartment Angel sat Buffy down on the sofa and perched beside her, holding her hand. He took a deep unnecessary breath and looked nervous, so Buffy asked him if anything was wrong.

 

            Angel smiled slightly and found Buffy’s gaze. “No,” he replied. “Nothing’s ever felt this right before.” She returned his smile, but still looked slightly confused, so he started, somewhat awkwardly, to explain. “Buffy, you know that it hasn’t exactly always been easy for me to express how I feel about you.” He looked away, but kept speaking. “I’ve always had problems speaking about my emotions but that doesn’t change how much I love and will always love you.”

 

            Buffy gripped his hand tightly and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You don’t need to tell me that, Angel.” She said. “Every time you look at me or touch me, I feel it.”

 

            He brushed her face lightly with his free hand. “But I do need to say it, Buffy. And I need to say thank you as well. Thank you for loving me back even though I don’t deserve it.” Buffy shook her head, denying this but Angel paid her no heed. “I know how much you’ve sacrificed for us to be together and I want you to know how grateful I am to you. You’re my light, my life and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

            Tears were brimming in Buffy’s eyes by now and she cupped Angel’s face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. “Was that my surprise?” She whispered. “Because it was beautiful.”

 

            Angel shook his head and smiled anxiously as he slid off the sofa on to one knee on the floor. “No,” he took hold of one of her hands and his voice caught in his throat as he spoke. “This is your surprise. Buffy Anne Summers, will you marry me?”

 

            Buffy gasped. This she had not been expecting, but then she hadn’t been expecting any of the rest of it either, the dress, the party…the wedding? Her heart seemed to stop then started to beat again at an alarming pace. Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t find words to answer. “Oh God, you mean now, don’t you?” She managed to choke out.

 

            Angel nodded. “That was the plan, yes.”

 

            Buffy was still finding problems thinking rationally. “But, but…you said that we couldn’t be officially married, that we may as well be already. I thought…” She trailed off, overcome with the confusion and emotion of the situation. Angel was actually on the floor, proposing to her, waiting patiently for an answer, which she hadn’t even given yet.

 

            “Well this isn’t exactly and official marriage ceremony, more of a blessing, really…” Angel was speaking but Buffy heard none of the words. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding and dropped Angel hand, which previously she had been squeezing tightly enough to crack the bone.

 

            “Yes!” She cried out, finally. The one word her heart had been screaming but her lips hadn’t yet been able to form. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently. He returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm then drew her into a close embrace.

 

            “For a minute there I thought you were going to say no.” He spoke softly into her hair.

 

            She grinned broadly. “For a minute there I thought I was going to have a stroke, you gave me such a shock.”

 

            “Sorry, I forgot. You don’t like surprises.”

 

            She drew back to look at him and spoke breathily. “A few more like that and I’ll start to change my mind.”

 

            Angel pulled away from her and stood up. “Come on,” he held out his hand to her. “They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.”

 

            She took his hand but paused before she would let him lead her back upstairs.

 

            “Just one more thing I want to know.” She smiled wickedly and cocked one eyebrow at him. “Where are we going on the Honeymoon?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Cordelia cried in spite of herself as she watched the ceremony. If there was one thing that Buffy and Angel deserved it was happiness and she was so glad they were finding that together now. And the whole idea of a surprise wedding was such a romantic one, even if some terrible evil did come and tear them apart (which, when one considered the historical precedent, was probably very likely) then Buffy would still remember this moment for the rest of her life. Usually Cordelia’s cynicism was unshakeable, she was always the first to point out the downside to every situation. But tonight…tonight she couldn’t come up with a single sarcastic or pessimistic quip. Tonight she was caught up in the aura of perfect love, serenity and romance that seemed to surround Buffy and Angel.

 

            Cordy watched, mesmerised, as Giles escorted Buffy down the makeshift ‘aisle’. The dress Cordy had picked out that afternoon suited the occasion perfectly and the whole outfit was set off by the bouquet of white roses that Buffy carried. When she reached Angel the two embraced and shared a brief kiss, before the Wicca Angel had found to conduct the ceremony began to utter her blessing. When the time came for the couple to make their vows to one another Angel spoke eloquently of the love he felt for Buffy, quoting others – famed poets and authors – when his own words failed him. Buffy, having had the whole occasion sprung upon her, had no such prepared speech, but the sentiments she came out with spontaneously were just as touching and beautiful as Angel’s carefully rehearsed ones.

 

            Cordelia wished her husband John could be there to share this moment with her. She thought back to her own wedding. It had been a fabulous occasion, yes, but it somehow didn’t have the same resonance as this event. Cordy’s wedding had been about formality, whereas tonight was about intimacy. She loved John dearly but was well aware he could never be capable of such romantic gestures as Angel lavished upon Buffy. Maybe the difference was cultural. Angel came from another time and place, where chivalry and valour still existed and where romance had not yet been commercialised into greeting cards and tacky heart shaped chocolate boxes. Or maybe the difference was with the men. John loved Cordelia quietly and sweetly. His attachment was steadfast, yet lacked any of the fierce passion Buffy and Angel felt for one another.

 

            But every love was different, Cordelia realised. Not everybody was destined for passionate affairs and would she even want that kind of intensity of feeling when she was fully aware of all the pain it encompassed? Probably not. John may not make her blood boil, but his gentle, unassuming ways certainly touched her heart. And now she acutely missed the comfort of the relationship they shared, especially on a night where everyone else seemed to have a partner.

 

            Realising that her tears were beginning to smudge her carefully applied mascara, Cordelia’s vanity prevailed over her sentimentalism and she headed downstairs to fix her make-up and compose herself, before rejoining the party. Alone in the office, the silence was almost eerie compared to the revelry of the party being conducted above her. So, when the phone rang loudly, shattering the peace and quiet, Cordelia let out an involuntary scream. Chiding herself for being so easily scared, she answered the phone breathlessly.

 

            “Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless.”

 

            As she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone her expression turned to one of confusion, then of shock, then of horror. The news was just too terrible to deal with. Struggling with her composure she managed to thank the woman for calling and hung up the phone. Then she just sat perfectly still for several minutes, feeling numb with incomprehension. When the words she had heard finally sunk in tears began to cascade down her cheeks, now uncaring of her make-up, she rushed back up to the roof.

 

            “Angel!” She called out with a strangled cry, when she reached the top of the stairs. At her shout the entire crowd of guests turned to look at her and Angel broke away from Buffy with a concerned expression on his face.

 

            “What is it Cordelia?” He asked anxiously, having sensed her urgency.

 

            Cordy looked stricken. She couldn’t find words to break the news, but it had to be said anyway. “Faith,” she gasped out between sobs. “She-she’s dead!” A collective gasp emitted from the crowd at her announcement and she vaguely registered Angel’s face turning even paler before her eyes.

 

            “How did it happen?” He fired the question at her. “Is Gunn OK?”

 

            “That’s just it.” Cordelia choked out. “Nobody knows how it happened. A neighbour was alerted by the sound of Hope crying. She went to check on things and she found the door open. Faith was…in the bedroom and she couldn’t find Gunn anywhere. All his stuff is gone.” She dissolved into hiccupping sobs and collapsed in Angel’s arms, totally unaware of the chaos that was erupting around her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

            Faith looked down at her body on the mortuary in bewilderment. She felt a strange detachment from the scene; the physical form that had been so much of her identity in life no longer belonged to her now. So this is what it feels like to be dead, she thought. She didn’t know whether she had expected something more or something less. Intellectually she had anticipated oblivion, a simple ceasing to be or a slip into eternal nothingness. Emotionally she had hoped for some form of afterlife, in her darkest moments she feared Hell but prayed for heaven. This, however, was neither.

 

            She supposed she was a ghost, a lost soul trapped in some form of limbo. It should have disturbed her, terrified her even, but it didn’t. She felt only an eerie calm and a slight puzzlement. If she was a ghost wasn’t there some kind of light she should be moving towards? That was what they said in all the movies. But in her heart she knew the reason for her situation. She could not leave the earth because she had not yet fulfilled her destiny. She was still needed there; Hope required her mother and Faith had not yet earned her redemption. Even though her body had tired and given in, her spirit was still to fight on.

 

                       

           

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