WITHOUT HER
"Pieces of the Heart" series, Part 4
S. J. Smith
DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with, nor do I own any rights to the series "Angel" nor the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I'm a hopeless little Fan Girl with aspirations.
A.N.: This story went A.U. with "Blood Will Tell", part 2 in this series.
* * * * * * * * *
Most nights, we'd be out fighting demons. Gunn, Wesley and I would go after whatever plagued the city. It put a nice symmetry on my, well, couldn't really call it a life, but still. Wander around the Hyperion during the day, doing what odd jobs needed to be done here (a little painting, some caulking, maybe even filing for Cordelia or making sure the weapons were sharp and ready for the next hunt). It was familiar. Comforting. A routine.
Then we went to Pylea. And then we came back from Pylea. And nothing has been quite the same since.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that. The hotel's been humming since our return. Dawn being here means Cordelia feels she needs to be here, because, well, she just can't leave Dawn alone with Spike. Forget that I'm here and I'd know if Spike tried to hurt Dawn. Not that I think he would. Well, maybe he would, if he had a way to get that chip out of his head. We still don't know what to do with Fred yet. Kate's been looking for her family but her leads aren't that great. So Fred wanders around, happy to be someplace that serves Mexican and trying to adjust. She took over Cordy's computer the other day and it was amazing. She doesn't remember stoplights but computers? She made that thing dance. Cordy just stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish's.
But there's no quiet here now. I can't sit by myself and think without something, someone, intruding.
It had been nearly a week since Willow brought Dawn to me. I tried to think of it that way instead of the other. I was skirting the issue, I know. It wasn't good for me to do so but it was the only way I could get by. Wesley and Cordelia congratulated themselves on how well I was doing. At least, I thought they that was what they were doing. Some days I didn't really hear what they were saying. I just went through the motions.
I wished...I wished I could sleep again, the way I slept when Darla haunted me. I wished I could get hold of that stuff she used to get into my dreams. Maybe I could have brought Buffy back to me that way. But I couldn't rest. I just prowled around, barely able to sit much less lie down and close my eyes.
"Close your eyes."
Yeah, that's what I needed to remember. Her voice whispering those three words, her kiss branding my mouth. I moved, so I didn't have to think.
My feet carried me up the stairs, past the room Dawn claimed as her own. I stopped to look in on her. Some nights, it was as hard for her to sleep as it was for me. I could see tearstreaks on her face and she hugged herself tightly. She smelled like peppermint and...Buffy's perfume.
She smelled like Buffy.
A wave of pain nearly sent me to my knees. Did I make some sort of sound? I don't know but Dawn's big blue eyes opened and she stared at me, standing in her doorway. Just stared, without saying anything. Then she unwound her arm and stretched it out to me and I stumbled into the room and nearly toppled onto the bed with her.
I held her hand like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was. All I knew was I shook like I could jump out of my skin. All my muscles twitched and bunched, like I'd been in a fight to the death. Part of me wondered if I was scaring Dawn. Part of me didn't care. She was warm and alive and she smelled like Buffy.
"Shh," Dawn said, and I felt her hand on my cheek.
That touch did it. All the rage and misery I'd held inside shattered, crumpling me in front of this little girl. I collapsed into a heap alongside her bed, hearing these high-pitched sounds and knew they came from my throat.
Dawn slid off the bed with me, gathering my head into her lap and rocked me (rocked me the way Buffy had on that day, when she killed the Mohra demon and I knew I couldn't remain human). I felt everything breaking, my world falling apart and Buffy's scent enveloped me and Buffy's little sister stroked my hair.
"It isn't enough time," I heard someone say in a choked voice and realized it had to be me. "Seventeen months isn't enough time!"
Dawn pressed her cheek against my shoulder and I held her knees. One of her hands snaked down to grab mine and clutched it tight. Her tears dripped into my shirt, mine into her pajamas. It wasn't enough time. The refrain kept running through my head as we cried into each other's clothes.
Finally, we both were still. If I kept my eyes closed, I could almost delude myself with the dream that Buffy held me. I wanted to but it wouldn't be right. So I moved a little, enough to let Dawn know to sit up so I could. We leaned back against the bed, her legs still curled up under her, mine stretched in front of me. We didn't look at each other.
"Angel?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Dawn?" My voice was as quiet as hers.
"What did you mean, about the seventeen months?" There was a little bit of fear in her voice asking that but also steely determination. So much like her sister.
I dropped my head back against the mattress. I hadn't talked about that to anyone, not since Doyle died. And he and I had only spoken of it once. It didn't seem right, to tell Dawn.
"Angel?" she asked, a little more forcefully.
"I-it was nothing, Dawn." I hated lying.
She must have sensed it, too, because she tilted her head, studying the hands coiled in her lap. "Seventeen months. That's...November." Dawn shot me a look. "Thanksgiving. That's the Thanksgiving Mom was out of town and Buffy cooked dinner for all of us. And we had Spike tied up because we didn't know if we could trust him or not. And the Indians attacked." She rounded on me then. "You were there." She bit her lip. "You talked to me about how Buffy was doing and I told you that you should ask her yourself, because she was just a zombie. She wasn't Buffy."
I winced and glanced at her. "I was trying to help," I said, defending myself.
"And we drove up to see Dad the next day and she left me with Dad. She came to see you, didn't she, to kick your ass?"
"She wanted to, yeah, Dawn." I twisted my fingers together.
Dawn leaned a little forward. "She came back to Dad's and moped for the rest of the day. She cried that night. She didn't think I knew, she thought I was asleep but I heard her. I hated you because you still could make her cry."
"I'm sorry, Dawn," I mumbled, not wanting to hear that I'd made Buffy cry.
"It isn't me you need to apologize to, Angel," she said, her voice tight.
"I know." I looked back at my hands. "But it's kind of late for that."
"So tell me what's special about seventeen months."
"Dawn," I said, painfully.
"I wanna know." She crossed her arms and glared at me. Really glared and I could see Buffy in her again. I bit my lip and turned away. "Angel," she said sharply, then her voice thawed. "Please tell me." She put her hand on my arm, scooting a little closer.
I didn't want to. It was my pain to carry around.
"Please."
"I," I gulped, shaking my head. It still hurt, damn it. Why did it still have to hurt? "When Buffy came to see me, we were attacked by a Mohra demon. They're very powerful, Dawn. Even their blood has strange properties. To make a long story short, I killed the demon, or thought I had but I got cut and its blood infected me. Its blood made me human."
Dawn made a sound, a weird, little, inquisitive squeak. "Human?"
I looked down at her then, her eyes big and round and luminous and searching mine. The room was getting light. The sun was due to rise. "Yeah," I said.
"B-but...if you were human?" She took my big hand in her little ones and turned it over, tracing the lines in my palm. "Why aren't you now? Did you get bit again?"
"No." I laughed harshly. "I went out and found Buffy and we spent the rest of the day together. And sometime in the night, I got the word that I hadn't killed the Mohra. It was back, stronger than ever. So I left Buffy asleep and went off to take care of the demon."
"Huh?" Her face scrunched up. "But, Buffy came back early. I mean, she wasn't gone more than an hour or two."
"My friend Doyle and I went hunting the Mohra but it was stronger this time. It...it could've killed us both if Buffy hadn't shown up. She killed it, really killed it this time. But I was badly hurt. I probably should've gone to the hospital. But I didn't. I went to see the Oracles instead." I studied her. "They said if I stayed human, Buffy would die."
"What?" Dawn stared at me, her mouth falling open. "Angel, that's...why?"
"Because we're both warriors. They said she would've died trying to protect me. Without the strength of the vampire, I'm useless. I wouldn't have been able to help her."
"That's not true. Buffy would've never thought that!"
I shook my head and a painful chuckle broke free. "That's pretty much what she said. That she'd do all the fighting. But I couldn't let her do that."
"What did you do, Angel?" She sounded so calm, though I could hear her heart thudding in her chest.
"I asked for the Oracles to take back the day."
"What?" Dawn's eyes, already enormous, widened even more. "How?"
"I don't know. They called it a temporal fold." I licked my lips, remembering the haughty voice of the male Oracle, saying they didn't do such things for lower beings.
"And they did," Dawn said, almost to herself.
"Yeah. I got back here, just in time to tell Buffy that the day wouldn't happen." I kept to myself the tears we both shed, Buffy crying to me that she'd never forget. "And time folded, I guess, putting us back to when she walked into my office and the Mohra crashed through the window. That time I killed it, then and there. No chance for anything to happen." I looked at the toes of my boots. They were scuffed badly. I needed to clean them, when I had the time.
"No chance for you to live," Dawn said softly.
"Yeah."
"And seventeen months is how long she lived," Dawn said.
I nodded, not taking my eyes off my boots.
"Angel?"
"D-do you think you could take me to see the Oracles?"
I looked at her, at the hope building on her face. Oh, Dawn.... I shook my head. "No."
"B-but, Angel, don't you see? Maybe we could talk to them about folding time again, and-and we could bring Buffy back, she wouldn't have to die!" She clutched my arm tight enough to bruise, nearly climbing up me in her excitement. "You c-could stop Cordy from being sucked into Pylea, or maybe we could keep Glory from taking me?" Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Please, Angel. Please!"
I cupped her face in my hands. "Dawn, we can't." Before she could protest, I put a finger over her lips to shush her. "The Oracles are dead. A demon killed them, to keep them from being able to help me. They're gone."
Dawn's face crumbled then, the hope smashed from her and she collapsed against me, sobbing. I held her the way she'd held me, stroking her hair, my heart breaking right along with hers. Again.
"It was a good thought, Dawn," I said to her bent head. "A very good thought."
"I want h-her back, Angel," Dawn sobbed, her voice cracking.
"I know, sweetheart. I know." I sat on the floor holding her, as the sun broke over the horizon and another day began.
Another day without her.
"Pieces of the Heart" series, Part 4
S. J. Smith
DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with, nor do I own any rights to the series "Angel" nor the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I'm a hopeless little Fan Girl with aspirations.
A.N.: This story went A.U. with "Blood Will Tell", part 2 in this series.
* * * * * * * * *
Most nights, we'd be out fighting demons. Gunn, Wesley and I would go after whatever plagued the city. It put a nice symmetry on my, well, couldn't really call it a life, but still. Wander around the Hyperion during the day, doing what odd jobs needed to be done here (a little painting, some caulking, maybe even filing for Cordelia or making sure the weapons were sharp and ready for the next hunt). It was familiar. Comforting. A routine.
Then we went to Pylea. And then we came back from Pylea. And nothing has been quite the same since.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that. The hotel's been humming since our return. Dawn being here means Cordelia feels she needs to be here, because, well, she just can't leave Dawn alone with Spike. Forget that I'm here and I'd know if Spike tried to hurt Dawn. Not that I think he would. Well, maybe he would, if he had a way to get that chip out of his head. We still don't know what to do with Fred yet. Kate's been looking for her family but her leads aren't that great. So Fred wanders around, happy to be someplace that serves Mexican and trying to adjust. She took over Cordy's computer the other day and it was amazing. She doesn't remember stoplights but computers? She made that thing dance. Cordy just stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish's.
But there's no quiet here now. I can't sit by myself and think without something, someone, intruding.
It had been nearly a week since Willow brought Dawn to me. I tried to think of it that way instead of the other. I was skirting the issue, I know. It wasn't good for me to do so but it was the only way I could get by. Wesley and Cordelia congratulated themselves on how well I was doing. At least, I thought they that was what they were doing. Some days I didn't really hear what they were saying. I just went through the motions.
I wished...I wished I could sleep again, the way I slept when Darla haunted me. I wished I could get hold of that stuff she used to get into my dreams. Maybe I could have brought Buffy back to me that way. But I couldn't rest. I just prowled around, barely able to sit much less lie down and close my eyes.
"Close your eyes."
Yeah, that's what I needed to remember. Her voice whispering those three words, her kiss branding my mouth. I moved, so I didn't have to think.
My feet carried me up the stairs, past the room Dawn claimed as her own. I stopped to look in on her. Some nights, it was as hard for her to sleep as it was for me. I could see tearstreaks on her face and she hugged herself tightly. She smelled like peppermint and...Buffy's perfume.
She smelled like Buffy.
A wave of pain nearly sent me to my knees. Did I make some sort of sound? I don't know but Dawn's big blue eyes opened and she stared at me, standing in her doorway. Just stared, without saying anything. Then she unwound her arm and stretched it out to me and I stumbled into the room and nearly toppled onto the bed with her.
I held her hand like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was. All I knew was I shook like I could jump out of my skin. All my muscles twitched and bunched, like I'd been in a fight to the death. Part of me wondered if I was scaring Dawn. Part of me didn't care. She was warm and alive and she smelled like Buffy.
"Shh," Dawn said, and I felt her hand on my cheek.
That touch did it. All the rage and misery I'd held inside shattered, crumpling me in front of this little girl. I collapsed into a heap alongside her bed, hearing these high-pitched sounds and knew they came from my throat.
Dawn slid off the bed with me, gathering my head into her lap and rocked me (rocked me the way Buffy had on that day, when she killed the Mohra demon and I knew I couldn't remain human). I felt everything breaking, my world falling apart and Buffy's scent enveloped me and Buffy's little sister stroked my hair.
"It isn't enough time," I heard someone say in a choked voice and realized it had to be me. "Seventeen months isn't enough time!"
Dawn pressed her cheek against my shoulder and I held her knees. One of her hands snaked down to grab mine and clutched it tight. Her tears dripped into my shirt, mine into her pajamas. It wasn't enough time. The refrain kept running through my head as we cried into each other's clothes.
Finally, we both were still. If I kept my eyes closed, I could almost delude myself with the dream that Buffy held me. I wanted to but it wouldn't be right. So I moved a little, enough to let Dawn know to sit up so I could. We leaned back against the bed, her legs still curled up under her, mine stretched in front of me. We didn't look at each other.
"Angel?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Dawn?" My voice was as quiet as hers.
"What did you mean, about the seventeen months?" There was a little bit of fear in her voice asking that but also steely determination. So much like her sister.
I dropped my head back against the mattress. I hadn't talked about that to anyone, not since Doyle died. And he and I had only spoken of it once. It didn't seem right, to tell Dawn.
"Angel?" she asked, a little more forcefully.
"I-it was nothing, Dawn." I hated lying.
She must have sensed it, too, because she tilted her head, studying the hands coiled in her lap. "Seventeen months. That's...November." Dawn shot me a look. "Thanksgiving. That's the Thanksgiving Mom was out of town and Buffy cooked dinner for all of us. And we had Spike tied up because we didn't know if we could trust him or not. And the Indians attacked." She rounded on me then. "You were there." She bit her lip. "You talked to me about how Buffy was doing and I told you that you should ask her yourself, because she was just a zombie. She wasn't Buffy."
I winced and glanced at her. "I was trying to help," I said, defending myself.
"And we drove up to see Dad the next day and she left me with Dad. She came to see you, didn't she, to kick your ass?"
"She wanted to, yeah, Dawn." I twisted my fingers together.
Dawn leaned a little forward. "She came back to Dad's and moped for the rest of the day. She cried that night. She didn't think I knew, she thought I was asleep but I heard her. I hated you because you still could make her cry."
"I'm sorry, Dawn," I mumbled, not wanting to hear that I'd made Buffy cry.
"It isn't me you need to apologize to, Angel," she said, her voice tight.
"I know." I looked back at my hands. "But it's kind of late for that."
"So tell me what's special about seventeen months."
"Dawn," I said, painfully.
"I wanna know." She crossed her arms and glared at me. Really glared and I could see Buffy in her again. I bit my lip and turned away. "Angel," she said sharply, then her voice thawed. "Please tell me." She put her hand on my arm, scooting a little closer.
I didn't want to. It was my pain to carry around.
"Please."
"I," I gulped, shaking my head. It still hurt, damn it. Why did it still have to hurt? "When Buffy came to see me, we were attacked by a Mohra demon. They're very powerful, Dawn. Even their blood has strange properties. To make a long story short, I killed the demon, or thought I had but I got cut and its blood infected me. Its blood made me human."
Dawn made a sound, a weird, little, inquisitive squeak. "Human?"
I looked down at her then, her eyes big and round and luminous and searching mine. The room was getting light. The sun was due to rise. "Yeah," I said.
"B-but...if you were human?" She took my big hand in her little ones and turned it over, tracing the lines in my palm. "Why aren't you now? Did you get bit again?"
"No." I laughed harshly. "I went out and found Buffy and we spent the rest of the day together. And sometime in the night, I got the word that I hadn't killed the Mohra. It was back, stronger than ever. So I left Buffy asleep and went off to take care of the demon."
"Huh?" Her face scrunched up. "But, Buffy came back early. I mean, she wasn't gone more than an hour or two."
"My friend Doyle and I went hunting the Mohra but it was stronger this time. It...it could've killed us both if Buffy hadn't shown up. She killed it, really killed it this time. But I was badly hurt. I probably should've gone to the hospital. But I didn't. I went to see the Oracles instead." I studied her. "They said if I stayed human, Buffy would die."
"What?" Dawn stared at me, her mouth falling open. "Angel, that's...why?"
"Because we're both warriors. They said she would've died trying to protect me. Without the strength of the vampire, I'm useless. I wouldn't have been able to help her."
"That's not true. Buffy would've never thought that!"
I shook my head and a painful chuckle broke free. "That's pretty much what she said. That she'd do all the fighting. But I couldn't let her do that."
"What did you do, Angel?" She sounded so calm, though I could hear her heart thudding in her chest.
"I asked for the Oracles to take back the day."
"What?" Dawn's eyes, already enormous, widened even more. "How?"
"I don't know. They called it a temporal fold." I licked my lips, remembering the haughty voice of the male Oracle, saying they didn't do such things for lower beings.
"And they did," Dawn said, almost to herself.
"Yeah. I got back here, just in time to tell Buffy that the day wouldn't happen." I kept to myself the tears we both shed, Buffy crying to me that she'd never forget. "And time folded, I guess, putting us back to when she walked into my office and the Mohra crashed through the window. That time I killed it, then and there. No chance for anything to happen." I looked at the toes of my boots. They were scuffed badly. I needed to clean them, when I had the time.
"No chance for you to live," Dawn said softly.
"Yeah."
"And seventeen months is how long she lived," Dawn said.
I nodded, not taking my eyes off my boots.
"Angel?"
"D-do you think you could take me to see the Oracles?"
I looked at her, at the hope building on her face. Oh, Dawn.... I shook my head. "No."
"B-but, Angel, don't you see? Maybe we could talk to them about folding time again, and-and we could bring Buffy back, she wouldn't have to die!" She clutched my arm tight enough to bruise, nearly climbing up me in her excitement. "You c-could stop Cordy from being sucked into Pylea, or maybe we could keep Glory from taking me?" Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Please, Angel. Please!"
I cupped her face in my hands. "Dawn, we can't." Before she could protest, I put a finger over her lips to shush her. "The Oracles are dead. A demon killed them, to keep them from being able to help me. They're gone."
Dawn's face crumbled then, the hope smashed from her and she collapsed against me, sobbing. I held her the way she'd held me, stroking her hair, my heart breaking right along with hers. Again.
"It was a good thought, Dawn," I said to her bent head. "A very good thought."
"I want h-her back, Angel," Dawn sobbed, her voice cracking.
"I know, sweetheart. I know." I sat on the floor holding her, as the sun broke over the horizon and another day began.
Another day without her.