Title: Standing at the Edge
Author: Settiai
Disclaimer: "Angel" and other related characters are all properties of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other related corporations. No infringement is intended. This story, such as it is, was written as a sign of respect and love for the characters, the show, and their creator. I claim no ownership of the aforementioned show and characters.
Rating: R
Explanation: This is my story for the Angel Ficathon (II) on LiveJournal, and it was written for girlflesh.
Summary: They're standing at the edge of sanity, and there's no one left to pull them back.
Feedback: Comments and helpful criticisms are always appreciated.
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Even in the midst of all the chaos, Angel could hear the screams beginning in the distance. Innocents were dying, being killed inside their own homes… all because of him. Pain tugged at his heart, but he forced it to the side as he glanced down at the limp form that lay at his feet.
Angel barely even noticed the destruction that surrounded them as he picked Gunn up and threw him over his shoulder. Ignoring both the muddy pile of rain-dampened dust that had once been Spike and the scorch marks that marred the street -- all that was left of the dragon that Illyria had killed moments before disappearing into the fray -- he struggled to carry his load away from the beginnings of the apocalypse.
Without even a second thought, he turned his back on his duty and ran.
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Even on the outskirts of the city, in the small hospital that Angel stopped at, sirens could be heard echoing in the distance. Televisions were on throughout the entire building, each of them telling a different story.
"Experts claim that an earthquake has hit Los Angeles…"
"Reports are in on a terrorist attack in downtown…"
"Our prayers are with all those in Los Angeles, where a series of bombs have…"
"Los Angeles is in ruins after a surprise attack by… demons? Hey, what the hell is this?"
Angel's attention was drawn toward a television playing in one of the nearby hospital rooms, and he casually stood in the doorway in order to watch the scene taking place on the screen. An indignant newscaster was arguing with someone off-screen, but -- after a few seconds -- a well-dressed man stepped into the camera's path.
"I own this station," the man snapped, "and if I say that Los Angeles has been attacked by demons, then you better report just that. As many years as I've had Wolfram & Hart defending us, I think that I know more about the apoca--"
The screen was suddenly replaced by a blank screen with the station's symbol in its center, and the older man who had been watching it let out a chuckle. "At least someone has the balls to tell the truth."
The man turned his head toward the door and gave Angel a knowing look. "I bet you think I'm crazy, don't you boy?" he said.
Angel let his gaze flicker toward a jacket thrown over a nearby chair, a familiar symbol on it. "Not really," he replied after a moment. "I lived in Sunnydale too."
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As soon as the doctors finished closing Gunn's wounds, Angel pushed his wheelchair down to the car and drove away -- much to the doctors' protest. He knew that even those on the city's outskirts would be killed within hours though.
He drove for three days straight, stopping only when they had reached Texas. Then he checked into a cheap motel, and they rested for over a week -- listening to the news almost non-stop. Creatures were being caught on tape, and even the most skeptical were beginning to call them demons. People were telling stories that they had once kept secret, and even the government was reluctantly revealing that they knew something about what was going on. In just a few days, it appeared as if millennia of secrets were about to become public knowledge.
Then the government nuked Los Angeles and the surrounding area, and everyone's attention moved away from the demons.
Protests sprang up around the world, and the entire planet seemed to be falling apart. Neither Angel or Gunn noticed though. They just stayed in their motel room, telling people that "yes, they were refugees from California" and "no, they didn't want to talk about it." They barely spoke to each other though, and much of their time was spent doing nothing but listening to, and then ignoring, the news.
They were in the motel a month before Gunn was even remotely close to being healed, and it wasn't until then that they began acknowledging each other. By day, they were themselves -- two friends who had moved apart and were slowly rediscovering why they had become friends in the first place.
By night, they fucked each other senseless.
The first time, it happened before they knew what was going on. One minute they were arguing about something trivial, though neither of them remembered what exactly it had been, and then -- before they even realized it was happened -- Angel had pulled out some lube from who knew where and was sticking his cock up Gunn's ass as the younger man screamed out Wesley's name.
The next day they pretended as if nothing had happened, but -- when the sun went down -- it started all over again. The only difference was that Gunn was doing the fucking as Angel lay beneath him and gasped out Spike's name.
They left the motel the next night, traveling towards New Orleans. When the sun began to peek over the horizon, they stopped at the first roadside inn they could find -- and, after several hours sleep, they let themselves step into their roles until the sun went down once again. Then they left, driving by night as Angel and Gunn.
When it was daylight again, however, they stopped once again -- Angel becoming Wesley for Gunn, and Gunn becoming Spike for Angel.
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Over the following months, they traveled the entire country. Every time they heard of a suspiciously familiar character, however, they would quickly turn their wanderings in another direction.
News of a werewolf who could control his transformations sent them fleeing from New Orleans, and mention of red-haired witch traveling with her Slayer lover sent them away from Nashville. When someone mentioned a pregnant Slayer in her twenties with dark hair and a Boston accent that was staying in Cleveland, they made their way across the Canadian border.
After several weeks, they re-entered the United States and started through the Midwest. News of a one-eyed Watcher in Topeka sent them traveling eastward though, where they quickly left Washington D.C. after catching a glimpse of a handsome young man in military garb who was more than a little familiar to Angel.
And that's how they arrived in New York City eight months after Los Angeles went to hell.
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For the first two weeks, Angel and Gunn mainly stayed in their hotel room. Then they heard news about how the death toll in the city had tripled in the last eight months, and -- after sharing a look -- they had grabbed some weapons and gone looking for trouble.
In the first week alone, they killed over three dozen vampires and almost a dozen demons. Then they decided to patrol around the outskirts of the NYU campus. It went fine for the first two nights -- they rescued a dozen students, killed a dozen vampires… Then they got ready to save the thirteenth victim, a dark-haired girl being attacked by some sort of demon.
They rushed to her rescue, but -- before they even got there -- they froze in surprise. Neither of them had expected her to grab what appeared to be a samurai sword hanging at her side and then proceed to decapitate the demon in five seconds flat.
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Dawn flicked a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and casually leaned down in order to wipe her sword's blade on the grass. The weapon had been a present from Giles when she had left for college, and -- after discovering just how many demons were prowling the campus at night -- she had started taking nightly strolls in order to relieve some of her stress and boredom.
It was cheaper than the drugs she usually used, and the high was just as exhilarating.
As she quickly cleaned off her weapon, she caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye. Reacting purely on instinct, she spun around -- and froze when she saw the two men slowly moving out of the shadows.
"Angel?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes running over a face she hadn't seen since she was thirteen-years-old. "Holy shit, it is you."
Gunn raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at Angel, an almost amused look on his face. It faded quickly, however, when he saw the expression on the vampire's face. "Not an old flame then?" he guessed.
"Not exactly," Angel said after a moment or two, his eyes not moving from Dawn. "Gunn, meet Dawn. Buffy's little sister."
It took a few seconds, but comprehension eventually dawned on Gunn's face. "You mean the one that those monk guys creat…" He trailed off as Dawn's face darkened. "I'll take that as a 'yes' then."
"Yeah, that's me," Dawn replied with just a hint of sarcasm. "The girl that those monk guys created. She's not even a real person, so you mi--"
"That's not what he meant," Angel cut in tiredly.
A slightly sheepish appeared on Dawn's face, and she gave Gunn an apologetic smile. Then she turned her attention back to Angel. "We thought you were dead," she said coldly. "You could have at least called."
Angel shrugged unapologetically. "I didn't see the point."
Dawn nodded and looked away. "Willow kept me updated on what was going on in Los Angeles from the beginning," she said softly. "She told me about Cordelia and Fred. Who else did you lose?"
Neither Angel nor Gunn replied for several seconds, but the vampire finally found his voice. "Lorne left before the battle," he said reluctantly. "He told us not to try and find him. Illyria disappeared near the end of the battle. I think she knew we would lose if we stayed, so she decided to save herself."
Dawn nodded again, but she didn't look at either of them. "What about Wesley?"
"He's dead," Gunn said bluntly, and Dawn grimaced at the sudden rawness in the man's voice. She still persisted though.
"And Spike?"
"The same," Angel replied quietly.
She finally let her gaze turn towards them again, an exhausted look on her face. "I thought so," Dawn said softly, her voice sounding almost lost. "I hoped not, but… I knew they had to be."
The three of them stood there in silence for several seconds before Dawn let out a sigh. She forced a weak smile onto her face as she met Angel's, and then Gunn's, gaze. "So, where are you guys staying?"
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Over the next several months, their lives settled into a stable pattern. Angel and Gunn would spend their days in the small apartment they bought after living in the city for three weeks, and Dawn would spend her days attending classes and working on homework. Once the sun set, the three of them would meet for a few minutes before splitting up and going out to kill some of the monsters that roamed the New York streets.
After midnight had come and gone, they'd usually head back to Angel and Gunn's apartment to compare the night's results. Dawn would usually pull out whatever drug she was experimenting with that week, and -- while both Angel and Gunn shot her disapproving looks -- she'd let the drugs relax her body. Then she'd head back to the campus, followed close behind by one of them, and sneak in her dorm's window before the sun rose.
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"How long have the two of you been having sex?" Dawn asked, a curious look on her face as she sprawled out on one of the bed's in Angel and Gunn's apartment.
The whiskey that Gunn had just drunk went flying across the room as he began a coughing fit, and Angel's mouth all but dropped open in a slack-jawed gape. Both of their faces asked the same unspoken question, and Dawn couldn't help but smile.
"I've been meaning to ask for awhile now," she said with a shrug. "I noticed when the two of you first walked out of the shadows back in January."
"How… what exactly did you notice?" Angel managed to ask.
Dawn shrugged as she stretched, her back arching against the bed's mattress. "I've seen it before," she said simply. "You and Buffy. Xander and Anya. Willow and Tara. Robin and Faith. All someone has to do is keep their eyes open."
Angel and Gunn exchanged a look. "She's grown up," the vampire admitted.
She gave them a smile. "The two of you really don't seem to be the right type for each other," she continued, her tone of voice suggesting that her words were more of a question than a statement.
Angel and Gunn exchanged a look, and an unspoken agreement seemed to pass between them. Gunn let out a sigh as he reluctantly met Dawn's gaze. "When the two of us… are… I mean…"
"When the two of you are screwing like rabbits?" Dawn suggested with a trace smile.
Gunn raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Angel. "What exactly was this ex-girlfriend of yours like?"
"I think she got that from Faith," Angel replied.
"Ah," Gunn said, nodding slightly as he turned back toward Dawn. "Anyway… when the two of us are having sex, we try to pretend that it's someone else. For me, it's Wesley. For Angel, it's…"
"Spike?" Dawn asked, earning a raised eyebrow from Angel. "Like I said, I keep my eyes open."
"Apparently," Angel replied dryly.
She merely nodded. "I get it," she said gently. "You play the role that the other one wants. To ease the pain."
The slight smile on her face slowly twisted into a smirk, and -- before Angel or Gunn had a chance to react -- she had pulled her shirt over her head and was sitting there with nothing on above her waist but a lacy black bra.
"Who do you want me to be?" she asked innocently. "Buffy? Cordelia?"
They both stared at her.
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At first, Dawn was Buffy for Angel and someone named Anne for Gunn. As time passed, however, she began to play more than just those two roles. Cordelia became a common persona for her to take on, as did a woman named Gwen. Darla and Drusilla stepped in every now and then, when Angel was feeling particularly dark, and -- once -- he asked her to be someone named Nina. For Gunn, she became Fred every once and awhile, and -- when the nights were particularly dark or the days extremely long -- he'd ask her to let him call her Alonna.
She played those roles without question, and for almost a month she didn't ask anything in return. Dawn called both Angel and Gunn by their own names when she climaxed, and she never pretended that they were someone else as she let them run their tongues over her bare skin or roughly rub her breasts with their fingers.
When Angel asked her to wear a leather corset and answer to Darla's name as he spanked her, she merely smiled and injected a shot of pure heroin into her arm. The first time that Gunn told her about his sister, she took one last snort of cocaine before letting him run his hand down her body, starting with her breasts and moving downward.
Dawn downed another shot of Jack before putting on the filmy, see-through dress that Angel gave her. It helped her to talk to the invisible stars as Angel fucked her, panting out Drusilla's name. She spent an entire week asking her roommate questions about physics in preparation for Gunn asking her to become Fred, and she made sure only to smoke on joint of marijuana that night so that she would be sure not to forget the things she had learned.
Right before her school let out for the summer, though, she changed the rules.
"It's my turn," she said softly, meeting both Angel's and Gunn's gaze unwaveringly. "I've played the roles you wanted, now I want the chance to remember too."
That night, and for every night that week, she screamed out a different name everything time she came. Some were familiar and some not. Some men and some women. It didn't matter though. Dawn hadn't asked them questions when it was their roles she was playing, and they didn't ask about hers.
After that week, things went back to normal. She called them by their names, and they called each other -- and her -- by the names of those they had lost.
But, every now and then, they called her Dawn.