Introduction ~ This is sixth in a series if you want to
find out what's happened so far then you are more than welcome to read the
other five.
Disclaimer ~ Even if I did claim I owned them all,
nobody would believe me.
A/N ~ Thanks to all my regular readers and
reviewers for sticking with this series and telling me to write more. It's you
I make the effort for. However, I warn you now, some of you (well if I'm
honest, probably all of you) are not going to like where I'm taking the plot in
this instalment. All I can say is bear with me, all the angst I am about to
cause is important to allow happy, fluffy things to happen in the future. There
is a method to my madness - keep reading and all will be explained.
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
enhanced 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.
THE END
A/N ~ Yes, I know, I know, you all hate me now,
because I killed Faith. But, before you all shout at me (and I know you're all
in the middle of mentally compiling annoyed reviews) realise that I haven't got
rid of Faith totally (I made her a ghost, didn't I?) and I will still continue
to write about her in my series. Also in my defence, I really like Faith's
character and I wouldn't have killed her if it weren't vitally important to
future plot development. So, now you've heard my side of the argument, but if
you still want to moan, go ahead – all feedback is welcome. And finally, thank
you for reading.
