Heartstrings
By Risa
Disclaimer: Angel and Buffy are property of the Joss Whedon etc.
Death and the Endless belong to Neil Gaiman. Death appears in the comics The
Sandman, Death: The High Cost of Living and Death: The Time of Your Life. I'm
just borrowing them for the purpose of this short fic.
Spoilers: Hmm…basically just Season 4. I wrote this long before
I found out what happened in Season 5.
Note: When I wrote this story, I did it without
double-checking the plots of Season 3 and 4 and sort of got everything mixed up
(I really shouldn't have, I know). I know I've made mistakes and I've tried
correcting them, but it changed the whole tone of this story, so I've left it
as it is. Just take this story as something like an alternate reality thing…
It's the first fic I've written, so be nice!
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"I know you're there," he said.
The man appeared to be alone in the room. It was late in the
night and what little light in the gloomy hospital room came from the dim
bedside lamp. It was quiet, although the silence was frequently punctuated by
the beeps of the machine, as if trying to draw attention to the young woman on
the bed.
Her face was pale and covered with bruises and cuts. Her
head was bandaged. Her neck was held in a cast. She appeared not more than
twenty. The man tightly held one of her hands.
The man's face was extremely pale, his hair dark and
dishevelled. He was dressed in a simple white shirt, black pants and a black
jacket tossed over it.
"Just show yourself," the man said again, to what appeared
to be empty air.
A young woman appeared in the room out of nowhere. Her face
was extremely pale, more so than the man's, almost white. Her hair was black,
long and slightly wavy. She was dressed in black jeans and a spaghetti-strapped
black top. A silver ankh hung from her neck. Her eyes showed wisdom far beyond
her years and compassion.
"Very astute, Angelus," she said, smiling slightly.
"Who are you?" he said warily, standing up and taking a
protective stance over the girl on the bed. If she was a vampire… But there was
something familiar about her. Angel felt a strong - albeit strange - feeling
that he ought to know who she was.
"Odd that you don't recognise me, I've come for you twice
already. But then, most of you rarely remember," she said. "I'm Death."
A part of Angel was sceptical. How could she be Death? He
would recognise her, certainly. After all, he had been associated with death
for the better part of his long life. But another part of him knew that she
would not lie to him. Come to think of it, he would be considered a myth in
most circles.
Then he started to panic. Buffy. "You've come for her?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Yes and no. It's almost her
time, but not quite yet. I decided to come early to see you."
"You mean she's – "
"Going to die." Death said. "Yes."
Angel sat down heavily. He knew that she would probably not
have much chance of living. She was so badly injured from the last demon she
had fought. But a part of him still obstinately clung on to a desperate hope
that she might live.
"Why? Why did you want to see me?" he said.
Death smiled and said. "I've been meaning to see you for a
long time. My brothers and sisters have told me about you, about how you've
been to all of their realms at some time or other. But I was always too busy."
"Brothers and sisters?" Angel asked.
"Yes. I'm of the Endless – there are seven of us. Destiny,
Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, Delirium and myself. You're one of the few
who've been to all of us at some time or other. I was there when you first
died, and again when you lost your soul. And I've been there every time you
killed someone. So I understand, Angel, what you've done and what you feel
guilty for."
"What about Buffy? Why does she have to die now?" Angel
asked, demanding answers.
Death walked slowly forward. She bent her head over the vase
of flowers left by Buffy's visitors. "I love flowers. They are beautiful
things, so wonderfully alive."
Then she turned to Angel. "It is just time for her to do
so."
"I'm not going to let you take her away from me," Angel said
harshly. He would do everything in his power to prevent Death from taking her.
"Could you stop me?" Death asked simply.
Angel was silent.
Death sat delicately on the edge of the hospital bed. "You
love her a lot, don't you?"
Angel sighed and nodded. "I came here in the middle of
night. Even sneaked through the window," he laughed then, a short, sad laugh.
"She's seeing someone else, you know."
"Who?"
"This guy from her university – Riley. It wasn't easy, to
see her with someone else. I thought that I was able to put her out of mind.
Then I heard the news – she had been severely injured. She managed to kill the
demon – she always does – but it was worse this time. Then I knew. I hadn't
really forgotten her. You don't get over love like that that easily."
"You shouldn't," Death said. "The past two days must have
been horrible."
Angel shook his head. "In a way. Seeing her lying there,
feeling helpless. And knowing that even if she did get better, I can only sneak
back out of her life. I also knew that this would happen. I have been here for
no short period of time," he smiled slightly, "and I knew the risks that came
with her job."
"She was strong though," Death said.
He nodded. "So why do you have to take her now?" he asked
with a hint of desperation.
"Because it is her time," Death reminded gently.
"But there's so many things I have not said – have not
done…"
"That's what you all say," Death said. "That's what I don't
get sometimes. If you love someone, show it. That would save you so much
regrets. And you did have your chance."
"She asked me to leave – "
"So you just did that? I understand that you wanted to
respect her wishes, but if you love her as much as you seem to, why couldn't
you have stayed behind and tried to change her mind? If you tried but still failed,
then you would have nothing to regret. Obviously you didn't try hard enough,"
Death said.
"But I wanted her to have a normal life. We would never have
happiness together, there's too much baggage between us. Because of what I am…I
can never give her the happiness that she deserves. It wasn't easy for me
either, to see her with other people, wanting to be by her side yet never be
able to do so," Angel protested.
Death shook her head. "You're a lot like my little brother.
Obstinate, both of you."
She paused then continued. "Excuses, most of it. Both of you
are afraid of what you have and you're not willing to accept or deal with the
consequences that come from it. Love is something special, something to treasure.
I've met some people who've done some crazy things for love. But love is
something strange, almost like life. You have to accept the good and the bad
that come along with it. You try to find solutions for the bad, which serves to
make your love sweeter when you succeed. That is real love. That was something
both of you had an opportunity to have."
"All right," Angel sighed. "Yes, there was so much more I
could have done. But I don't have the mood to deal with that now. What would it
take for you to let her stay alive?"
Death glanced at Angel. "What you're asking is very serious.
What can you offer in return?"
"My life."
She shook her head. "That I already knew. And it is nothing
new. Many have offered their lives in exchange for another's. Why should I take
yours?"
"Because it is all I have that is of value. All that is
really my own. I would give you anything so that she would be able to live. To
carry on the good she has done, to love and be loved. You said that love was
special to you. I don't think you want to take away her chance so easily."
Death laughed. "Well done, Angel, well done. To use my own
argument against me. I shall grant you a boon then, as I have done once before.
[1] I won't come for her now or anytime soon. But when I come for her again,
there will be no more bargains. And another condition – you are going to try
your damnedest to make your relationship work. I wouldn't have you giving up
and moaning and groaning about what you did not do when I come back again."
Then she disappeared.
Angel looked back at the sleeping Buffy, taking up her hand
once more and staring at the beloved face. Then he got up and fingered the
flowers on the table. "They are rather beautiful," he smiled.
He knew what he had to do. He knew that it was not going to
be easy – they had too much to work through. But he had to try; he owed Death
that much.
Footnotes:
[1] This was to Hob Gadling, in the 14th
Century. Death was observing tavern
life when she noticed Hob Gadling, who was a soldier then. He boasted that his
stubborn refusal to die would keep him alive forever. Amused, Death granted him
immortality.
