Between Lovers
Written By: Slayerman2000
It was dark. The day had been a seasonably warm one. Early Octobers in Southern California were always warm. The sun shined brightly on everything: the buildings, the wildlife, the parks, the farms, the children playing kick ball on the street. There had been tranquility in the air, a certain peace that everyone understood and shared. But now the day was over, just a pleasant memory, and night had fallen.
Angel
put the top down on his convertible and inhaled the night breeze satisfyingly.
He relished fresh night air. Not that he had any need for it, vampires didn't
require oxygen to live, but he had been driving in the stuffy, cramped vehicle
all day, with its windows covered in thick black paint, save the small opening
in which he could see the road ahead. He was almost there. It had been nearly
30 years since he'd been anywhere near the Fox Café, but he still recognized
most of the landmarks. Civilization and modern technology barely touched the
small stretch of highway just 50 miles out of Los Angeles. The sights and
smells were like old friends to him. He drove past a nearly run-down, yet still
operating, gas station simply called Joe's. The pumps, brand new in 1960, were
almost completely rusted. There was one lonely car in the parking lot, and
Angel assumed it belonged to whoever owned the place now. He passed several
acres of farmland, a few roadside motels that were state-of-the-art in their
younger days, but now little more than a place to take your prostitute. Then he
came to a familiar, incredibly majestic oak tree. Angel vividly remembered
sitting under that tree one evening in April of 1996.
It had been a hard time in his unlife. He had been homeless for years, stinking
of his own filth and relying on rats as his only source of nourishment. He was
a disgrace to his own kind and a menace to humanity. The only vampire with a
soul: a monstrosity to monsters. There were nights when he thought of walking
into the sun and ending it all. He could almost feel the harsh heat pounding
him, the sour smell his own charring flesh as it burned, the sight his body
bursting into ember and dust, and finally total darkness.
Then he
met Whistler, or rather Whistler found him. A demon sent by the mysterious
Powers That Be, Whistler told Angel about his purpose in life. He sent Angel to
L.A. to find out what that purpose was, and the day after he sat under this
great tree, gazing into the stars and contemplating his place in the world,
Angel laid eyes on Buffy Summers for the first time.
The Fox Café was in sight. It was abandoned now. The L.A. city authorities
closed it in 1983 when they were planning to modernize the entire area. The Fox
lot was to become part of the foundation for a mall. The mall never came to
pass, and the Fox never re-opened. Though it had been closed for nearly 20
years, the building hadn't changed much. It wasn't in the state of dilapidation
Angel had expected. There were no
boards covering the windows and door, and the paint hadn't chipped too
much. The sign above the front door,
the words FOX CAFÉ once glowing in a rich neon blue, were darkened. No light
emanated from the windows. At one time a person could hear music and laughter
from within the building a mile away. Now it was still, quiet, dead.
Only one space in the parking lot was occupied. A large, silver SUV Angel immediately recognized, sat motionless in its space. Angel climbed out of his own car; his breath catching as a petite figure emerged from the SUV and began to walk towards him. The only light source came from the full moon shining high above, but even in through darkness Angel knew the figure.
"Buffy," he choked.
He
hadn't believed it. Not when Cordelia ran into the courtyard of the Hyperion
the evening before with the news.
(She's alive!! Buffy's alive!!)
when he spoke to Willow and she proudly confirmed it.
(I did a resurrection spell)
Not even when he spoke to Buffy herself that morning.
(Do you know where it is, Buffy?
Yeah, I do. See you tonight.)
Death was death, no second chances, and Buffy had been dead. It tore him up
when he received the news from Willow. He couldn't leave his room for two
weeks, unwilling to see or speak to anyone. The guilt weighed on his chest.
Finally he left L.A. and went to a monastery to deal with his grief. When he
returned he kept his game face on for the sake of the others, but each day,
each minute, was harder than the last. Buffy was gone and nothing would bring
her back. He was reminded of his days in Manhattan when he wished he could walk
into the sun and end it all. But he wouldn't. He was on a mission to save
humanity from the forces of darkness. Still, living in a world without Buffy
was harder than he ever imagined.
"Angel," Buffy said.
They embraced. Buffy rested her head on Angel's chest and closed her eyes; tears rolling down her cheek. It was the first time since her resurrection that she was truly happy. She had never loved anyone the way she loved Angel. Not even Riley, whom she now considered little more than the rebound guy.
On the drive from Sunnydale, Buffy's mind filled with memories of the times she shared with Angel, the love and passion and hatred of their relationship. They were a complete paradox: he the vampire, she the vampire slayer. It had been hard to live, hard to breath, when Angel first moved to L.A. He left Sunnydale and his true love because he wanted Buffy to have a normal life, with a normal boyfriend. He had sacrificed his own happiness for her. Buffy hadn't quite forgiven him for leaving her, but she loved him all the more for it. She always loved him. She longed for his touch, craved for his lips to lock with hers. She relished the passion, but she knew they could never be. She killed Angel once and she would never allow that to happen again.
Reluctantly she pulled away and gazed into his chiseled face. His eyes were brimming with tears.
"You look good," Angel said quietly. It was hard for him to think. It was like a dream. The dream he had every night since finding out about Buffy's death. Buffy smiled.
"So do
you."
They stood awkwardly for a few moments, neither one sure of what to say next.
Angel broke the silence. "How are things? Are you doing well?"
"Yeah," Buffy said. "It's hard, readjusting and everything, but I think I'm doing okay."
"I remember what it was like, being gone for so long, not really existing anywhere, and then suddenly coming back into this world. It gets easier."
"I sure hope so," Buffy said, her voice cracking. She turned from Angel for a moment and gazed into the starry sky. The tears were returning, but they weren't tears of joy this time. They were the tears of a sorrow she never thought she'd face. Angel gently put his hand on her shoulder.
Buffy wiped her nose with the cuff of her sleeve and faced Angel again. He stroked her blonde hair and smiled. Both were comfortably silent for a few moments.
"How are things with you? How's Cordy?" Buffy tried to keep her voice casual, but it was hard. It hurt to see Angel knowing she would have to leave him again. She knew Angel shared her sentiments, and she was right.
"Cordy is great. Wesley is great. I have a new tenant staying at the hotel. Her name is Fred."
"Fred,"
Buffy repeated. She hated the thought of another woman living with Angel.
Granted, they lived in a hotel and probably had separate rooms
(not probably, definitely)
but it still ranked in the unpleasant category.
"She was stuck in a demon dimension for five years and it's left her a little," Angel hesitated. "Afraid of this world."
Buffy nodded slowly. "I can relate."
"How about everyone in Sunnydale."
"They're fine. Willow is living at the house with her girlfriend, Tara. They moved in to take care of Dawn after I… you know. And Giles just came back from London and is also staying with us. Xander and Anya are…"
"Buffy," Angel interrupted.
"Yeah?"
"I've missed you so much. Your death killed me; it still does when I think about it. I felt like it was my fault. Like, if I had never left Sunnydale I could have saved you."
Buffy was taken aback. It was extremely rare for Angel to lay his thoughts and feelings out on the table like this. Usually he keep them locked inside, bottled up and away from the world. She looked at Angel, her ex (God how she hated that term), and noticed his cheeks were slightly dampened. It touched her, deeply. She decided to return the favor. To tell him the thing she came to tell him.
"Angel, I need to tell you something. When I died, before I was brought back, I was in Heaven." Tears came to her eyes as she spoke, but she refused to shed them. She had to keep a straight face, the way she had when she told Spike. "And it's so hard living here. It's hard to know what I had and then to lose it. I have been unhappy since I was brought back. It's hard to live right now. But being here with you... it makes it easier."
"Buffy, I…"
"Don't say anything to anybody. Not Cordy. Not Wesley. Not even Fred. The gang, back home, they think I was in Hell. They did me this huge favor and I couldn't live with myself if they knew where I was and how unhappy I am."
"I promise."
"I love you, Angel. I love you more now than I did when we were together."
"I love you too, Buffy."
Buffy wanted to ask Angel to return to Sunnydale with her. They could start their relationship anew. They could have things they once had, feel things that she thought were long forgotten. But she knew he wouldn't. He had this thing in L.A. and she had her own life in Sunnydale. Living with Angel in her life would be easier, but Buffy knew life was never about being easy.
Tenderly, Angel cupped his fingers beneath Buffy's chin and lifted her face to his. He leaned in and gently kissed her smooth, full lips. Buffy returned the kiss, her entire being filled with red-hot desire. She hungered for more, but knew she couldn't fulfill her needs. After an eternity of bliss, they broke the kiss.
"I should go," Angel said solemnly. Buffy nodded.
"Yeah, me too."
Without another word they turned and parted ways. Neither one turned back to watch the other leave, both knowing it would be too painful. A small smile crossed Angel's lips and he put his convertible into reverse. He was happy, almost to the level of true happiness. He hadn't felt so warm inside in a very long time.
As they drove, both knew they weren't going to share the experience with their friends. It was too intimate, too intense, and too magical: a secret between lovers.
The End