Disclaimer: Yeah, no.
A/n: This takes off from the scene in the hallway of Buffy's dorm after Angel comes to apologize in that one episode I can't remember the name of...
I always thought Angel would know Buffy from Faith when they switched bodies, and this started as a way to prove that and then just kinda escalated into this. The POV changes are indicated and the beginning and end are just story. Sorry if it's confusing, but I've been working on this for so long I thought if I didn't get it posted soon, it would turn into something totally different. Please review, it makes me all tingly inside.
"And Riley?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't like him."
"Thank you."
Buffy turned towards her door, her hand reaching for the knob, when she decided she had to know.
"Angel?" He didn't answer, but the forced sound of his footsteps stopped so she continued. Her hand now rested on the doorknob, a faint rattling in her ear from the trembling of her hand. "Would you have known?" She knew on explanation for her question was not needed.
Angel frowned at her insecurity. "No one has eyes like you."
Buffy let a faint smile touch her lips. Typical Angel. A simple 'yes' was just too simple for his two-hundred-year-old mind.
!!Her POV!!
She could feel his eyes-chocolate brown that could see into her very soul-burning into her very being. Her soul screamed at her to meet them with her own, but she didn't; she couldn't. She knew if she looked into his eyes, she wouldn't be able to sop herself from jumping into his arms and pressing her lips to his in a hungry kiss, despite her superhuman strength-physical and emotional. And she knew his lips wouldn't be enough. She would need to feel his skin. And she knew his lips would soon find hers. And even that wouldn't be enough. She knew the end result would be the restoration of a soulless monster. She knew her heart would break. If she looked into his eyes, his soul and hers were in jeopardy. Her soul longed for his, but she knew her heart couldn't take the pain. So she didn't look into his eyes. Instead, she slowly turned the knob and slipped into her dorm; to Riley; to the role she played for everyone but him.
As she told her boyfriend-yes, he was only a boy- the news she knew would kill him because it would kill her-it had killed her-and held him as he cried, she thought about how he was so different from Angel. His skin was warm. She could feel his heart beat beneath her hand. When she looked into his eyes, she didn't see a heaven she could never reach. She thought about all the ways he wasn't Angel and all the reasons she could never love him.
She hadn't lied to him earlier. She hadn't truly told him she loved him. What her words had implied, she couldn't control. She knew what it was like to be so in love with someone that she couldn't think straight. That someone just wasn't Riley.
That night, while Willow slept soundly, though not peacefully if her tossing and turning were any indication, Buffy slipped out. For a late night patrol, she told herself. But she never made it to any of the 13 cemeteries in the small town. Her path didn't even come close to one. Instead, she descended the stairs to a small, all too familiar, basement apartment.
After breaking the lock that kept any normal, non criminal people out, she hoped that there was no one living in the cramped residence because she'd have a lot of explaining to do if there was. That was the only reason she told herself as she ignored the voice in her head that screamed, "Liar!"
The place was barren, save a mattress on the bed. She wondered briefly if it was the mattress on which the little innocence she once possessed had been stolen. Lying down, she received her answer. It still smelled of him…of them. Or maybe it was only the memories rushing through her mind that made her senses shift into overdrive.
Several hours later, she wiped at the tears still streaming down her cheeks when she heard footsteps. She told the cops that someone had told her the place was abandoned. "The lock was broken when I got here. I just needed to get away."
The female of the two cops was more sympathetic to the almost unnoticeable tear stains on the young woman's face. She told her she could stay the night.
Buffy smiled and replied that she "wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. His memory still haunts my dreams." And she left, not paying attention to the man's extremely confused face, or the woman's understanding smile.
!!His POV!!
He watched her from the shadows just outside his former apartment. He could smell the lingering tears in her eyes. He could almost feel her heart break little by little. How could he have been so stupid? Was saving Faith, who had tried to hill him and later take his soul, really worth shattering the precious pieces of Buffy's already fragile heart?
Out of his hundreds, thousands of crimes, she was his worst. Because he knew what would happen in the end, even at the beginning. He knew he would break her heart. He knew that even at 16, he could let her know what true love was. He knew it could never be, and he started it anyway. She was his worst crime because, when it came to her, he was selfish. She was his worst crime because, unlike the rest of his victims, her suffering was endless. She was his most monstrous act because he could never let her know the freedom of release.
He watched as she practically ran up the stairs, as if she couldn't spend another second in the room they had…He saw her stop as if she sensed something. And then she looked directly into his eyes while fresh tears fell from her own.
She spoke quietly, but he could hear her perfectly in the stillness of the night. "You think I don't know you're there? You think I don't always know when you're around?" She paused as a shaking sob wracked her body. "Why are you watching me?"
He didn't put up the pretense of breathing as she walked directly towards him, her gate that of a confident warrior, much unlike the terrified girl she was feeling like. She stopped only when her body was a parallel to his-so close, but never touching. She raised her hand to cup his cheek and smooth her thumb along his porcelain skin. "Why are you haunting me?"
He didn't answer, only asked a question of his own. "Why did you let me hurt you so badly?"
Buffy's hand fell from his face as she turned away from him. His body mourned the loss of contact, but he did not move.
"I wasn't given a choice, remember?" Her voice was a bitter sound in his ears.
He watched as she walked back to her new life-her better life-and he knew he had to make a choice: go back to L.A. and pretend he was moving on, or follow her and cash in on his promise of forever. His head told him that L.A. was where he belonged, and if he had listened to his head long ago; if he could have just kept his distance, his heart wouldn't be in tatters right now. On the other hand, if he had listened to his heart, he never would have left her. He decided that he was tired of listening; instead, he followed the pull of his soul. And the pull led him straight to her.
He watched- haunted- her for days. She knew. But neither would end this game of cat and mouse they played; neither had the courage to make the next move though neither had ever thought of resigning.
!!Her POV!!
He was watching her; his very presence haunting her waking hours as his memory assaulted her dreams. She had received several calls from Cordelia and one from Wesley, asking if she had seen him. She told them that she hadn't seen him since the first night he was in town. It wasn't lying. She hadn't actually seen him, so her conscience was clear. Of course, Cordelia's snippy tone helped with that quite a bit.
She had patrolled alone for the past few nights. Riley had practically begged to come with, but she had made up some excuse-she couldn't even remember what it was-and he had let her go alone. Her friends understood her need to be "by herself"-she was never by herself when he was around. Well, Willow understood. Xander was, as usual, clueless to any "girl problems" the slayer was having.
She leaned against a mausoleum and sighed. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," she whispered. Buffy groaned as a newbie vamp appeared, it seemed, out of nowhere directly in front of her. "I so wasn't talking to you." With a quick lunge of her right arm, the stake held tightly in her hand penetrated the un-beating heart of what she was sure was a former classmate of hers.
"Not the best way to lure a vamp from the shadows." Angel's voice lacked the humor needed to lighten the mood.
"You're safe from my stake for the time being." She watched as his lips quirked into a smirk.
"Maybe I shouldn't be." His voice was so sincere it broke her heart.
Anger made its presence known as she realized he was making her decisions again. "Maybe I should be the one to decide," she snapped.
!!His POV!!
He didn't even flinch at her tone; he knew it was coming.
"Why are you still here?" Her voice was harsh as he expected, but her whispered continuation made him take a step back into the shadows again. "Are you trying to break me? Do you want to see with your own eyes the pieces of my shattered heart?" She paused. He stared as she collected herself and looked into the darkness-into his soul. "Do you want to kill me inside?"
No! his mind screamed. He didn't want any of that. He wanted…He wanted to see that she wasn't happy; he wanted to see a reason to reenter her life; he wanted her and he couldn't deny it any longer.
"If we had a chance together," he paused when he heard footsteps. Putting his vampire speed to use, he was behind her whispering in her ear, "would you take it?"
He didn't give her a chance to answer before he disappeared.
!!Her POV!!
She felt a slight movement of the air-unnoticeable to anyone but her-from behind. And then his voice was in her ear. A moment later he was gone, leaving her to put on a fake smile as Riley approached.
He was still around-she could feel him. She tried her best to ignore the tingling throughout her entire body.
"Riley," she greeted, "what are you doing here?" She watched the smile fade from the soldier's face. "I told you not to come."
"I know." He stepped closer to her. "What I don't know is why."
"I told you." It didn't even sound convincing to her. She had become fairly good at lying over the years, or at least that's what she liked-hated?-to believe, but for some reason she was at a loss for excuses. Maybe, subconsciously, she wanted him to catch her in a lie; wanted him to figure out that she wasn't truly invested in this relationship. Maybe, she wanted to end it but didn't have the courage to break someone's heart the way hers had been.
"No," Riley interrupted her inner philosophical debate. "You told me there was a lot of vampire activity lately, and you'd rather I didn't put myself in danger. And it was a complete lie." He reached a hand to stroke her cheek, "I can take care of myself," and drew it back when she flinched and turned away.
His tone was now that of a commanding officer, not a loving boyfriend. "The Initiative, and that includes me, has dealt with a lot of demons, and-"
"That's the difference, Riley." She turned back to face him; her eyes distant though the constant warmth was still in its place. "You and the Initiative." She said the word like it had a taste of its own- a very bad taste. "You hunt down demons and vampires with a big truckload of buddies at your side. I hunt alone." Her gaze darted to the little forest just outside the graveyard. She focused on one spot as she continued. "I kill them, Riley. I don't tame them." She sighed. "Or create them."
He had to argue. Of course he had to argue. She had hit a nerve; a very sensitive nerve. "We make them safe for humans." He opened his mouth to say more, but she beat him to the punch.
"You torture them!" Her eyes whipped back to meet his as she screamed.
He flinched at her volume but stood strong and fought like a good little soldier boy. "What, you have a soft spot for demons now?"
She turned, and her eyes focused on that one spot in the darkness again.
She heard him sigh; literally felt his realization. "No. Only one." By the time he spoke again, he was nearly five feet from her. She hadn't noticed him move. "I thought I could do it; love you enough for the both of us. I can't, Buffy. I'm done trying to." Only two more feet and she heart his voice again-so uncontrolled, so…not Angel's. "Now that we're no longer together, I don't feel the need to restrain myself from putting a wooden stick in that platinum blonde's heart." There was no humor in his voice.
A brief thought about never seeing Spike again passed through her muddled mind. It was followed by relief-of getting rid of Spike or Riley?-and then confusion overcame her again.
!!His POV!!
As she talked with that annoying, needy little Saving Private Ryan wannabe, he watched her eyes focus and refocus on him. He lurked as she didn't notice she broke up with the boy. And he stood, starting as she approached him. He wondered if she would be able to tell exactly where he was if she wasn't the slayer; and then realized pinpointing him had nothing to do with her supernatural abilities.
"Yes. The question is: would you?" He felt her thumb trace along the curve of his lips. And then her lips met his and his body was on fire-not literally-and he could feel exactly where her body made contact with his. He lost all rational thought as he lost himself in the battle for dominance that his tongue and hers were currently involved in.
She was not the only woman he had ever submitted to, but she was the only one that could make him do so with absolutely no effort. She could make him quiver with a touch, shiver with a kiss, and burn with a look. She could make him and monster, and she could make him a man.
He reached for her, needing to touch her, but she was already out of his grasp.
"You want me." Her whispered words brought him back to the hell that surrounded them every day. "But will you let yourself have me?" And she ran from him; his eyes following her until she was too far for his enhanced vision to reach.
"Would you give your life for us, my love?" he whispered to the night. A breathless sigh escaped his lips. "Could I let you?" He already knew the answer to both questions. Whether or not he was willing to admit them was up for debate.
He hunted for days. Every demon from Sunnydale to L.A. knew exactly what he wanted, and what he would do if he didn't get it. It took only one week to track down a Mohra, and only five minutes to chain him up in the basement of the mansion.
"I can't just be mortal," he told the green demon-who wasn't listening to him, so he was in truth talking to himself. "I've tried that-doesn't work. I need to be able to fight with her." He stopped his pacing in front of the chained monster. "I need to be able to protect her." Mere inches away from the demon that could save him from his damnation, he continued. "And you know how to do that."
The Mohra's only response was a growl and a lunge at Angel.
"I will find a way. I will make things right." He was no longer talking to the demon before him. His eyes were focused upwards. "She deserves that much."
He sat alone in the main room of the mansion. He wasn't brooding, just thinking, he told the nagging voice in the back of his mind.
"You gave it up for her last time the Powers decided to give you a gift. You had a reason then. Has it changed?"
He heard the all-too-familiar Irish brogue from behind him, but couldn't bring himself to turn around until the speech was complete.
"I can't protect her as a man, but I can't hold her as a monster. What am I supposed to do Doyle? Please, tell me."
The pain in his best friend's eyes was so…real. Doyle had seen hurt before, but this was different. This was heartache at its worst. "You're supposed to choose." Doyle sighed, which was totally unnecessary because-hello!-he was dead. "You're supposed to let her go. You're supposed to suffer endlessly until you find your redemption one day," the Irishman finished. "And that's what the Powers sent me to tell you." He smiled; one, Angel knew, meant he was going to break the rules.
"They didn't send me down here to tell you that if you mix a slayer's blood with that of the cuddly little demon you have downstairs, you'll become the male equivalent of one. No, they didn't send me to tell you that." Doyle was shaking his head in mock seriousness.
Angel smiled; the first real smile he had shown in weeks. "Thank you."
"For what?" Doyle's face scrunched up in confusion, but, try as he might, he couldn't hide a crooked smile of his own. "Just relaying a message, my friend." Doyle backed up a few steps. "I'll be back to check on you. Be good. Well, no too good." And then he disappeared.
Slayer blood. All he needed was slayer blood. Buffy's blood. Buffy, who what standing only meters away from him.
!!Her POV!!
She hadn't felt him following her for a week now, but he was still here. She knew it; in part because Cordelia's phone calls had been coming more often in the last seven days, but mostly because she could still feel that tingle; that slight tug on her heart. She was worried about him. She had a right to be-he left her remember. So she went to the mansion-where else would he be, the Sunnydale Hotel?
She was a block away when she felt that familiar tingle. She walked through the garden-that place evoked so many emotions-and slowed her pace when she heard voices. She couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but she thought she recognized an Irish accent.
She stepped though the black curtains he had never taken down to see the vanishing form of a vaguely familiar figure. The first thing she noticed about him was that he was smiling. God, it had been so long since she had seen that. She was still staring at him when he noticed she was there.
"Buffy." Her name had always sounded like a prayer, to the gods, on his lips.
"Angel." And his was a whispered promise on hers.
"I know a way," he blurted, "for us to be together." He sighed, more out of nervousness than frustration. "Do you trust me?"
"Always."
She was led by the hand-God, his touch-to a part of the stone building she had never been, and frankly didn't want to be-the basement. What she saw triggered visions of a sunny day with ice-cream and nudity.
"You took it back." She watched the smile vanish from his face and realization dawn in his eyes.
"I can give it to you again. Even better. We can be together without any worries."
!!His POV!!
He studied her. His sun; his life; his love. She deserved happily ever after. Was he it?
"I'm being selfish, aren't I? I wanted more for you. Better. And now I'm taking that away." He looked away. "Its blood can make me mortal." He gestured to the demon. "Yours can make me strong."
He watched her face change from confusion to determination. "Do you know why it was so hard to see her in your arms?"
He wished desperately to wipe the tears from her eyes. He didn't give her an answer as he thought about everything that Faith had done to her. It was only human instinct to want revenge. But there was something in her eyes that told him there was more to it. So he let her tell him.
"Because that is the one place I can't be." She let out a chuckle as she wiped the tears from her eyes-he made her cry again. "She was the one person I thought I could lose you to."
"I told you I was never interested in her." How could she think that he would want the moon when he could have the sun?
"In my experience, men don't always tell the truth."
"I'm not a man."
"You could be." She never missed a beat, did she?
"Is this really our destiny?" He had gone insane. The exact moment he had lost his mind, he couldn't pinpoint. But he knew he was crazy because he was thinking of giving up what he had worked so hard for; what he had gone through so much to get. His mind was flipping back and forth. Human. Not human. He had been acting like a happy child not 10 minutes ago. And now he was acting like the man-not a man-that had walked into the smoke-away from the fire burning his soul.
"Screw destiny! I want you and that's never going to change."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You tried to kill me. You tried to drive me insane. You almost succeeded." She looked down, wiping the ever flowing tears from her eyes, and she whispered the last part. "And I still can't live without you."
"If we do this, we get what we've wanted for so long. We get happily ever after."
Her voice was practically a scream when she asked, "Then what's the problem?"
"Is it supposed to be this easy?" See? Crazy. He was about to get exactly what he wanted-the girl of his dreams and a life with her in the sun-and he was the one who was second guessing the decision. Did he love heartache more than Buffy? Was he so convinced that his life should be miserable that he would sacrifice every ounce of happiness he could find?
!!Her POV!!
"Yes." She screamed it at him. Her eyes flicked past him and for the first time, she noticed a metal supply table in the shadows. On it laid everything she assumed they'd need. If she was right about the plan, she only needed to mix her blood with the demon's. It was like a chemistry project.
She was a blur to the ordinary human eye as she chose a dagger from the numerous blades on display and drove it into the imprisoned demon's chest. The blood dripped rapidly, into the vile she snatched from the table, as she held the now glowing blade above it.
Next, as she assumed, she needed to add her blood. And she did. She heard a faint "No" as she sliced into her hand, but ignored it. If a little pain was the price of happiness, she could handle that. She let her own liquid life drip steadily into the vile and then shook it until the color had a purplish tint. Then, she had no idea what to do. She looked to him-her everything-for guidance. He simply held his had towards her.
No. She didn't want to hurt him; didn't want to see the blood pour from his flesh-again-by her hand.
He saved her from her inner turmoil by slipping the dagger from her hand, and in one movement of her eyes-his eyes, his hand-he had sliced a line extending from one side of his hand to the other.
He held out his hand again-so much blood-and, this time, she obeyed his silent request-demand?-and poured the contents of the vile onto his skin.
In only a moment, after the screaming had stopped, she placed a hand above his heart-thump thump-and tears sprang from depths unknown to make their way down her cheeks.
They hesitated only a moment before jumping into each other's arms.
It was Angel who remembered the demon mere meters from them. He pulled away from his love, regretfully. "Close your eyes," he whispered.
The request stabbed at the still open wound she, herself, had made on her heart and soul only just over a year ago. Has it only been a year? It seemed so far away from this moment.
Only after the words were spoken did he recognize the connotation. He kissed her eyelids until they fell to cover the windows to her broken soul. "I will never hurt you. Never again." It took more willpower than he thought to pull away from her body once again.
Grabbing the dagger that had fallen to the ground, it took only four steps to reach the green demon, three seconds to aim, and one swing to hit the jewel in the middle of its forehead. Angel covered his eyes as the demon disappeared in a wash of white light. He was back in Buffy's arms before the clang of the dagger could reach their ears.
Clothes were discarded in a line leading to the mansion's master bedroom. They fell to the bed in an ungraceful tangle of limbs.
His skin against hers was excruciating in its ecstasy after so long. So very long.
Their cries of pleasure came together and, after, they lay so close together one was hard pressed to find the separation point.
Buffy's eyes began to slip and she snapped them open. Her leisurely smile had turned serious. "Promise me you'll be here when I wake up. Promise me you won't leave."
Angel looked into those eyes-no one has eyes like his Buffy-and saw the terror within them. "I promise, I'm never leaving you again. I promise." He kissed her forehead and tucked her head into his chest. "Now sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
"I love you."
"I love you. Always."
He knew he had to make a choice: go back to L.A. and pretend he was moving on, or follow her and cash in on his promise of forever. His head said L.A. His heart whispered, "Buffy."
He turned in the direction of the mansion. This time, he followed his head because his heart always made her cry.