A/N: Hello, hello! I'm back with Part Two! I just got to say (again) that I am blown away by the reviews that I recieve! You guys are so freakin' amazing, you all deserve a ridiculously big trophy. Or cookies. Or brownies. Maybe pie? Cake? Whatever sweet treat you prefer, you deserve tons of it!
Okay, this chapter was fun, fun, fun to write! Darla is back, people, and Buffy is not too thrilled. (I mean seriously, who would be?) Writing Darla was definitely fun, almost as fun as writing Angelus, and I am soooo looking forward to writing her in the story!
This chapter is where I really take over Angel S2 because the end of this episode was definitely not what happened in canon! lol
Alrighty, enough of my babble. If you actually read all of this author's note, I hope your like laughing at me or something because otherwise I think I might bore people...hmm...lol
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy. BUT if I did...Angel would have punched Xander more, had more lines, and would have never left; Smurfs are really green; Harry Potter trumps Twilight ANY day; One time I dreamed I was being chased by donuts; Seeley Booth = HOTNESS...still think I own Buffy?
First Impressions Part Two
There was an annoying, incessant knocking. No, it was hammering—annoying, incessant hammering. Angel was on the brink of regaining consciousness, alert enough to pull Buffy closer to his side protectively. He didn't want to wake up. He was getting the best night's sleep that he'd had in weeks. No dreams, just the black abyss of unconsciousness…which was why he was just a little pissed at the damn hammering sound that was threatening to wake him up.
It was at the tentative shake of his shoulder that caused him to jerk into awareness. Acting on instinct, he immediately shot out a hand, grabbing the intruder by the throat and throwing him to the floor. Practically in the same second, he was off the bed, putting himself between Buffy and whoever this person was.
"Angel, it's me!" Wesley choked out with wide eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Angel asked, his brain still trying to chase the fogginess of sleep away.
"Gunn's in trouble," Wesley managed to reply. "Can't breathe," he added with most of the air he had left.
Angel frowned. "Gunn can't breathe?"
Wesley pointed to himself, his face starting to turn blue, "I can't breathe," he corrected.
Comprehension finally dawned and Angle jumped off Wesley, "Oh, sorry."
"Oh, it's quite alright," Wesley cajoled, however he made no move to get up yet. He glanced at Angel, "Now about the naked thing…"
Angel looked down at himself, "I'll get dressed," he said taking the hint.
"Much appreciated," Wesley nodded.
If it hadn't been an emergency Wesley would have never come into Angel's room; not even on a normal day (if there was such a thing anymore), and especially not on a day when Buffy was there—because that meant that he had to navigate a landmine of hastily discarded clothes.
Angel offered him a hand up, but Wesley shook his head. "Uh, no, no," he waved the hand away, quickly getting up and escaping through the still open door, though he made sure to shut it behind him.
The instant the door shut, a girlish giggling filled the room. Buffy couldn't hold it in any longer. She'd woken up as soon as Angel's arms had left her, her subconscious immediately protesting, forcing her to wake. Of course, then she'd been the audience to a very funny conversation between Wes and Angel...although she had almost interrupted when she noticed Angel had yet to remove his hand from Wes's throat.
But what with Wesley's awkward embarrassment and Angel's obliviousness, Buffy couldn't help the giggles that escaped her. Seeing Angel's confused smile only caused her to go from giggles to full out laughter.
"What's so funny?" Angel asked as he picked up his pants from the floor and pulled them on.
Buffy shook her head, "I-I d-don't know," she replied honestly between giggles, because really it wasn't that funny.
Angel smiled as he buttoned up his shirt, "I don't think attacking Wes is all that funny."
Buffy shook her head, still laughing, "Nope."
Angel smiled, shaking his head. He really didn't care what Buffy found so funny. He was just happy to hear her laugh. It was the sweetest sound...but he wasn't above stopping her from laughing at him—in a very nice way of course.
Angel climbed onto the bed until he was hovering over her. He grinned as her laughter slowly died as she looked up at him. "What's so funny?" he asked again.
Buffy let her hands snake around his neck, pulling him closer, "Nothing really. Guess I just needed to laugh."
"Glad I could be of service," Angel grinned before kissing her softly.
"Mmm," Buffy mumbled as he pulled away, "You have to go. Be the hero."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "You're not coming?"
Buffy shrugged. "What can I say? It's your fault I'm so tired." Well, that was at least partially true. "You go. I'll stay and start researching your fishy dreams."
"Angel!" Wesley called from the hall. "Time is of the essence!"
"Go," Buffy urged, reaching up to kiss him one more time before pushing against his chest.
Angel looked at her quizzically, but shrugged mentally, filing away his questions for later. He quickly kissed her one more time before hopping off the bed and heading out the door before Wesley got up enough courage to come into the room again.
Buffy watched him go and as soon as the door shut, she sank into the pillows. She did wish she was going with them. But the fact of the matter was she was sore. Incredibly and blissfully sore in the best possible way…but when it came to kicking and running and fighting…being sore was not a good thing. And there was no way she was going to tell Angel that the reason she wasn't going with him was seriously all his fault because they'd had wild crazy monkey sex.
Slowly, she sat up in bed and glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning, which meant that she'd maybe been asleep for two hours. Well, she'd researched on less. Forcing her legs to work, she swung them off the bed and stood, heading towards the bathroom. What she really needed was a nice, long soak in the tub, but she'd settle for a shower.
As she let the hot water run over her, Buffy really let herself think about what Angel had told her. She was smarter than she let on, she knew that. Just look at her SAT scores. It was just that Willow and Giles were the geniuses of the group, so she let them handle the research and factoids while she focused on the battle strategies and the fighting. But since Willow and Giles weren't here, this left her to be the bookworm.
Absently, she grabbed the soap and lathered herself up. Angel had said the dreams had started a few weeks ago. He'd also said that that's when he suspected he began to sleep really late. Buffy didn't believe in coincidences—or leprechauns, but that was irrelevant. Those two facts were tied together. Whatever was causing Angel to sleep late was causing the dreams. It was safe and logical conclusion.
But how? That was the question, and definitely the one that was research-worthy. Who or what can make vamps sleep for extra long periods of time and allow for dream manipulation? As Buffy rinsed the shampoo from her hair she found herself wondering who could be behind this. Wolfram and Hart instantly sprung to her mind. They would definitely have the resources and the knowledge. Not the mention the fact that they would love to get rid of Angel.
Buffy shut the water off and began to towel herself off. She wiped the fog off the mirror so she could see her reflection and her eyes bugged out at the sight of the various dark hickeys that adorned her collarbone. "Thanks Angel," she muttered sarcastically to herself. "Love you too." Wearing a tank top today was out of the question.
Walking back out into the room she let the towel drop on the floor and began digging through her bag. Finally, she pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants and a UC Sunnydale t-shirt. Running a brush through her damp hair, Buffy pulled it up into a pony tail, not wanting to mess with it anymore. Besides, she'd learned over the last five years that having your hair fall into your eyes while trying to research was detrimental to her actual goal—researching.
Slowly, Buffy made her way down the stairs and went down into the lobby. Finding the books, she bent over and looked at the titles. She pulled out one she recognized. Giles usually found a lot of answers in that particular book. Her eyes settled on a rather battered, withering book tucked in the corner. She couldn't make out the title. Gently, she took the book from its little hiding place in the back and realized why she couldn't make out the title. It was in Latin. Great. Where was Giles when she needed him?
If she were ever one to believe in gut feelings, Buffy thought that now was the time. She grabbed the tattered book and placed it on the table with what she thought Giles believed was the book of answers to everything mythical and demonic.
Deciding that it would probably be best to actually start with the book that was already in English, Buffy picked up the heavy book and opened it, glancing over the table of contents. Poisons, Toxins, and Other Substances and Spells seemed promising. Buffy flipped to the correct pages and began reading. She stopped when she came across the poison Faith had used when she'd shot Angel with the arrow. Buffy had never been so terrified in her life when she seen Angel fall, expecting him to be dust before he hit the ground. It had taken her a few seconds to realize that Faith had purposely missed his heart by millimeters…
Buffy shook away the memories and thoughts that accompanied that train of thought, and immediately turned the page. She read about a toxin from a rare species of snake in a different dimension that could kill a vampire in less than a minute. Not much help seeing as how Angel was most definitely not dust. There was also an interesting bit about dreams, and for a minute Buffy had thought that she'd hit the jackpot…and then she'd read that the spell was lost thousands of years ago and that it only allowed vampires to fall into a deep sleep. Nothing mentioned about dream manipulation.
Buffy sighed and straightened her back, groaning when it popped. Slightly frustrated, Buffy shut the book and slid it to the opposite end of the table. Giles' book of answers was not her book of answers. Her eyes settled on the dilapidated Latin book, and with a heavy sigh Buffy opened it and the Latin translations she had beside her. Time to get to work.
The first thing she translated was the title. Fidelitas substantiis compositis et supernaturalis—roughly translated as: Dangerous Compounds and Substances of the Supernatural.
"Well that sounds promising," she said to herself, a little bit of hope rising in her chest.
Next she decided to translate the chapter titles. It took a while to get the hang to staring at something for so long until the lines began to blur, and then looking back at the translations to see if it matched, but after half an hour she found a rhythm.
For the next two hours Buffy buried herself in the book, only taking one break and that was to stretch. She had a whole new respect for Giles and Wesley, who practically lived to translate long forgotten texts. It was actually tiring! Staring at the words until they all seemed to blur together, blinking all the time. Even Giles cleaning his glasses was beginning to make sense to her.
For about a fifteen minute stretch, Buffy got on a roll. She was translating so quick that she really wasn't paying that much attention to the English. It was only when she heard a car fly by outside with the radio blasting that she seemed to snap out of her translating haze.
Buffy looked down at the English version of her notes, and slowly her eyes widened. "Some mystical compounds were developed for humane purposes. Calynthia, a dark blue powder, is such an example. Sumerians often used it to induce sleep, having it act as an anesthetic. However, various demons learned of the powder and began to use it as a torture technique, navigating one's mind and finding their darkest fears, forcing them to live them within the confines of their own mind. Also, when administered over time, Calynthia powder can be used to manipulate dreams. The dreamer is left completely unaware of the manipulator's presence, as he/she takes control of the dream. It is believed that…"
Buffy stared blankly at the passage she had translated. She'd figured it out. She'd actually done it. If she was being honest with herself, she hadn't expected to after only roughly three hours of research, two of which were spent translating, that she would actually find her answers. Usually, it took an all night study session with all the Scoobies before they found what they were looking for. Maybe it was just some big conspiracy because she lived on a Hellmouth. Buffy shook her head. She really needed some sleep.
It had been just pure instinct and luck that had compelled her to take the tattered and ratty book from its place in the corner of the bookshelf. Buffy couldn't help but think that someone, somewhere, was trying to help her. Maybe the Powers had gone on a little guilt trip and allowed her this one thing. Buffy smiled at the thought.
However her smile quickly vanished when she heard a faint noise that she immediately recognized as footsteps. Cautiously, she rose from her chair, careful not to make a sound. Slowly, she stealthily moved across the lobby and the reception desk, noticing a back entrance…and a fleeing figure.
"Stop!" she ordered fiercely, her hands feeling the absence of her stake or any other particular weapon for that matter.
In all her years of fighting evil and constantly being surprised by her foes, Buffy had never been more surprised than when the figure turned around. Seeing Buffy's shocked expression, Darla smiled, "Well, well, well, look what we have here. Surprised to see me?"
"You're dead," Buffy said firmly, trying to convince herself that she wasn't seeing what she was. She couldn't be.
Darla laughed, "Looks like you haven't gotten any smarter since the last time we had a little chat. Figures."
"Angel killed you," Buffy argued. "He shoved a stake through your heart."
"Yeah well, Angelus has always been one for the dramatic," Darla sighed. "Always so over protective—prone to over reacting…although I always thought it was a real turn on…"
"Shut up," Buffy snapped. "He's Angel. Not Angelus. He doesn't want you."
"Really?" Darla asked, a pouty, 'pity me' smile on her face before it morphed into a dirty smirk. "I wonder which one of us he dreams of—what do you think?"
Buffy's eyes widened in comprehension. She didn't know how much Darla knew. She didn't know if Darla knew that she and Angel were together. She didn't know if she knew that Angel's soul was anchored. Did Darla realize how much she'd just given away? Buffy forced herself to stay calm. Anything she said could tip Darla off, and subsequently harm Angel. She'd never had a more important conversation in her life than the one she was having now.
"Something tells me that he wouldn't want to dream of the person who made him a soulless monster, who cursed him with a hundred and fifty years of horrific memories," Buffy spat. "All that guilt he feels is your fault. You made him Angelus."
"Best decision of my long life honey," Darla smirked. "I never knew he'd be so good bed. That was a pleasurable plus." Buffy's eyes flared, and Darla continued. "But, you know that don't you?" she stated with a evil gleam in her eye. "Too bad you only had one time with him," she said faux pity in her voice. "That little happiness clause has to be troublesome…"
"Love isn't all about sex," Buffy spit. So Darla didn't know that Angel's soul was anchored. That was good thing, right? Yes, she decided. It was a good thing. The less she knew the better.
"Oh, but believe me darling, it's certainly important," Darla returned with a small smile. "He's all alone. With no one to comfort him."
"I'm with him. I comfort him," Buffy argued seething. She'd forgotten how much she really hated Darla.
"But not the way he needs," Darla smirked. "I know Angelus. I know what he needs. I know what you can't give him."
"Is that why you've been manipulating his dreams with Calynthia?" Buffy asked quickly, watching for Darla's reaction. Darla's eyes widened slightly, and Buffy fought a triumphant smirk. Gotcha bitch, Buffy thought to herself.
"Dear, dear, where did you learn of that stuff? Pretty pricy," Darla raised her eyebrows innocently.
The sound of loud, echoing footsteps caused both women to freeze. Buffy heard Cordy and Wesley talking animatedly and turned around to see if they were coming. It was then that she heard the door close. Cursing, Buffy spun back around and stared at the open air in front of her. Darla was gone.
Muttering curses under her breath that would have made a sailor blush, Buffy spun on her heal and went into the lobby. Instantly, Wesley and Cordelia looked up from their conversation.
"Buffy?" Wesley inquired frowning as he took in the angry slayer.
"Where's Angel?" Buffy asked immediately, her eyes darting around the lobby.
"He's outside taking care of the car," Cordelia answered, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What's with the angry eyes?"
"Darla," Buffy said the name like the dirty word it was.
"What?" Angel asked confused as he came in through the doors.
"Darla," Buffy repeated, stalking off to the table and grabbing her translations. Turning back around she shoved them into Angel's hands. "Darla is the one manipulating your dreams. She's using Calynthia."
Angel looked at her blankly for a moment and then looked down at her translations. "Buffy, Darla's dead. She can't be the one manipulating my dreams."
"What?" Cordy interjected. "Hold up, hang on, pause, hold your horses, whatever. What's this about dreams?"
"The reason Angel's been sleeping so late is because Darla has been using Calynthia to keep him asleep so she can manipulate his dreams," Buffy explained flatly.
Cordelia looked to Wes, who was frowning. "Calynthia does induce sleep and can be used for dream manipulation, but what makes you think that Darla is behind it?"
"Because she's the one in his dreams," Buffy replied coldly, causing Angel to look up at her tone.
"I thought you were okay with this," Angel said slowly, vague hints of hurt showing in his chocolate brown eyes.
"Okay? Okay?" Buffy repeated the word incredulously. "The love of my life is having his dreams manipulated by his psycho-blonde-bitch-of-a-sire! Dreams that are not all fluffy and bunnies if you know what I mean…so no, no I am not okay! Now that I think about it, I'm kinda pissed actually! All is not well in Buffyland at the moment!"
"Just hold on a minute Buffy," Angel interrupted, his temper rising. "What makes you think it's Darla? It can't be. I killed her. You were there."
"Yeah I was, but that doesn't change the fact that I just had a freaking conversation with her five minutes ago!" Buffy informed him, her eyes flaring.
"That's impossible," Angel argued. "I'd think I would have realized by now that another vampire had been here at the hotel."
"Besides, wouldn't she need an invitation?" Cordelia asked skeptically.
"No," Buffy snapped. "No she wouldn't because technically you two don't live here. Only Angel does. You don't need an invitation to enter a vamp's home."
"Still don't you think I would have noticed?" Angel asked, his temper slowly rising. Why was she pushing this?
"You don't believe me?" Buffy asked in shocked disbelief. "She was right here. I talked with her! We had a whole damn conversation, Angel!"
"What you're telling me is impossible Buffy!" Angel finally snapped, raising his voice. "Darla is dead. Dead. I killed her!"
"Well she's back," Buffy snapped coldly. "And she's causing your dreams. She says that she knows what you need—that you need comfort. And she damn well thinks that she's the one to give it!"
"Are you jealous?" Angel asked incredulously. "Is this what's really bothering you?"
"No!" Buffy shouted, glaring at him. God, she loved him with all her soul, but he could be so damn stubborn and oblivious sometimes. "What's bothering me is the fact that you don't believe me when I tell you that Darla is back from the grave and the one manipulating your dreams! Sure, there might be a little jealousy thrown into the mix, but that doesn't matter! You're mine!"
Everyone was quiet. Cordy and Wes had been looking back and forth between the two lovers, almost as if they were watching a tennis match. But slowly, as the argument between the two had grown more heated, they had faded back into the lobby.
Wesley had made his way over to the books on the table, looking at everything Buffy had done. He found the passage she'd translated and quickly looked it over. He'd translated so many things from Latin to English that he didn't need a translator.
"Everything she says about Calynthia is true Angel," Wesley said but he hesitated as he read a little further. He frowned.
"What is it Wes?" Angel snapped, a little harsher than he had intended.
Wesley looked up at them both, and Angel saw Wesley's gaze settle on Buffy's neck. Wesley really didn't want to ask the question he needed. He really didn't want to know…but he had to. "Angel did you have dreams tonight?" he asked.
Angel hesitated, glancing at Buffy. "No…"
"Um, you didn't perhaps, uh," Wesley coughed a little. "You didn't happen to drink from Buffy, did you?"
Angel's eyes immediately narrowed and Buffy's hand subconsciously reached up to touch her mark. That was all the answer Wesley needed. "Why?" Angel asked, avoiding answering the question.
"Because if Buffy had continued translating, she would have discovered that the only known substance to prevent the effects of Calynthia is Slayer blood," Wesley replied evenly.
Angel started to pace. He couldn't believe it. Darla was dead. He'd killed her. He'd killed her to save Buffy. She'd turned to dust. Just like any other vampire, dust at his feet. He'd killed her. She was dead. No one came back from the dead…
Wolfram and Hart. The Resurrection. The box. There had been vampires chained to it. Darla had been in the box. But he would have known if she had been in the hotel…wouldn't he? Wouldn't he have known that she was in his room? Wouldn't he have known that she was manipulating his dreams? Shouldn't he have known?
Angel couldn't ignore the evidence. The dreams and the oversleeping had started not too soon after the fiasco at Wolfram and Hart—when he'd failed to stop the ritual. And then the dreams had started, staring Darla. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Buffy was right. Darla was back. She was the one behind this—but what was her goal? Was she working for Wolfram and Hart? If so, what was their goal? Why was she working for them, if she actually was anyway? What could be in it for her? Why would she do their bidding? What would be in it for them?
Questions flitted through his mind so fast he couldn't possibly process them all. All he knew was that Darla was back. The person who had made him a vampire, the person who had been his lover for a century and a half, the person who had made his life hell, the person who had tried to kill Buffy…and she was back.
"My blood will make the dreams go away?" Buffy asked, causing Angel to halt his pacing and focus back on the conversation at hand. "The Calynthia won't work?"
"No," Wesley said. "Depending on how much Angel took, he should be immune to its affects for at least a few weeks, possibly more."
"That's good," Buffy nodded, glancing at Angel who didn't say anything. "Um, guys, could you give us a minute?" she asked.
"Though I hate to miss the soap opera that is Buffy and Angel," Cordelia began as she grabbed her purse. "I think I'll head home. Maybe watch a movie with Dennis." Cordy paused at the door and leveled a look at Buffy and Angel. "And if you two don't work out your issues, I'm gonna be really irritated. I don't care if it's getting groiny or if you two go to therapy, work it out. Night."
They all watched Cordy leave and Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes well, I'll get going. We can figure everything out later. Goodnight."
Then it was Angel and Buffy, alone in the lobby of the Hyperion. They were both feeling guilty about their argument. Buffy was upset that he'd thought she was simply jealous of Darla and that he hadn't believed her. Angel was upset that he'd let his temper and his fear get away from him. Now they were both hurt.
"I'm sorry," Angel sighed finally breaking the silence. "Can you forgive me?"
Buffy looked up at him with a small, strained smile, "You're already forgiven for being a jerk."
Angel chuckled, "Thanks," he said wryly.
Hesitatingly, he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him. He relaxed a little as Buffy wrapped her arms around him, and he let himself bury his face in her hair for a moment before pulling away to look at her. Her eyes shone with love. But they were also filled with worry. For him.
"What are we going to do?" he asked as they both made their way back up the stairs into his room.
"I don't know," Buffy sighed as she plopped down on the bed and laid back, realizing just how tired she was. "From what I could tell, Darla hadn't known we were together. And she still doesn't seem to know that your soul is anchored…" she trailed off as Angel settled into the bed beside her, immediately pulling her into his arms. Buffy didn't fight him, and rested her head on shoulder. It was exactly where she wanted to be.
"That's good," Angel said as he absently ran his fingers through her hair. "The less she knows the better."
"You think Darla was what was in the box at Wolfram and Hart," Buffy stated and she felt Angel nod his head.
"Yeah," he sighed. "And that's what worries me. They must have brought her back specifically for a reason."
"I don't think their plan is all that complex," Buffy said her eyes narrowing. "Obviously, if anyone could give you trouble it's her. She was already starting to freak you out with just the dreams…"
"But what could Darla possibly gain from working with Wolfram and Hart?" Angel asked confused. "She wouldn't do anyone's bidding without a valid reason."
Buffy thought back to her conversation with Darla, about what she had said about sex being a huge part of a relationship. How she knew what he needed. The comfort that she thought Buffy herself couldn't provide…
"The one thing she wants most is you," Buffy said, lifting her head off his shoulder to look at him.
"She can't have me," Angel replied softly, caressing her cheek lightly with his thumb.
"I know that, but she doesn't Angel," Buffy explained and Angel frowned.
"What do you mean?" Angel asked blankly.
"She thinks you still have the happiness clause, the one thing she wants most is you," Buffy emphasized. "Think about it. All your dreams you've been having of her. They aren't exactly PG."
"You think she's trying to seduce me so I will lose my soul?" Angel asked incredulously. "That's ridiculous! How could I ever have perfect happiness with anyone but you?"
Buffy smiled at that and bent down to kiss him softly before continuing her explanation, "I know that, and she's delusional anyway. The one thing she wants most is Angelus."
"But what would Wolfram and Hart stand to gain from that?" Angel asked. "How could having a soulless me around be better than a white knight syndrome me?"
"I'm surprised you know what white knight syndrome is," Buffy teased.
"Cordelia," Angel admitted, saying all that needed to be said.
"Ah," Buffy nodded. "That explains everything."
Angel smiled for a moment before it slowly faded into a frown. He sighed and pulled Buffy closer, buried his face in her hair and inhaled the exquisite scent that was Buffy. "I don't know what to do," he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice making Buffy's heart clinch.
He was never one to show vulnerability, and to think that this was getting to him so much already (though it was highly understandable), made Buffy shudder to think at what could have possibly happened if she hadn't been here—together—with him.
"We take things slow," Buffy said calmly, letting her fingers trace lazy patterns on his chest, knowing the action usually calmed him. "We try and find out all we can. Be on the lookout for Darla—that's all we can do."
"But we'll do it together," Angel said although Buffy could hear the slight question in his voice.
Buffy looked up at him, holding his gaze and letting him see the love in her eyes. "Always."
Well...what do you think? That was fun for me to write. I love writing Angel/Buffy arguements! Both of them have quick tempers and it gets really heated, really fast. And Darla! Darla is back and ready to cause trouble! Woo hoo!
BTW: Me and xxdawnbreakerxx are lookin' for a particular Buffy fic. It's a Buffy S6 xover with Angel S3. Buffy goes to L.A. with Angel after she comes back from the dead. She's friends with Lindsey, but doesn't know who he really is. And she ends up prego...ring any bells, anyone? If it does...please share... :D
Next update I think will be Tuesday. :D
Reviews make my musie happy,
ArthursCamelot