Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy and the gang, and Kripke owns the boys. Don't sue me! :)
I am soooooooooooooo incredibly sorry that it took so freaking long for me to get this out. Real life has sort of been taking over lately, and it's been getting in the way of things that I actually like to do. Now that I've hit my stride with his fic and life has calmed down a bit, hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly.
Thanks (and love and kisses and cookies) to all of you guys, especially BloodyPasion, Princesskarlita411, daring2dream, Anigen, fiducia, and M.J Writer.
Also, thanks SO FREAKING MUCH to sarbear over at tthfanfic for a WONDERFUL fanart for my story. If anyone knows how I can get an image to show up on fanfiction (as an image, not a link) please let me know! I'd love to display it here.
Buffy's heaven speech was obviously taken from "After Life." I didn't think that I could write anything better or more poignant than that, so why not let the girl say it in her own words? :)
Also, the last bit of the chapter was taken from the Angel episode "I Will Remember You," with my own little thoughts and descriptions thrown into the mix.
xXx
It was nearly dawn when she arrived on his doorstep.
If the courtyard to a huge freaking hotel could be considered a doorstep, that is.
After a cheap, crappy flight and two short bus rides, Buffy had finally arrived in Los Angeles. It had taken less time that she had anticipated, and it had still been pitch black when she debarked the bus a few blocks from Angel Investigations. Well, where Angel Investigations used to be. The office she had visited a mere two years ago was no longer standing; instead, there was a construction site and a sign announcing that a bank was to be built in its place. Lost, tired, and grimy, the Slayer had stumbled into a demon bar she remembered from her summer stay in LA in order to gather information about where her former lover had relocated to. Luckily, he was still in the city.
Half an hour later, she had ended up here.
Buffy glanced curiously around the small courtyard, taking in the lush foliage, elegantly barred windows, and moderate sized fountain housing a female statue with some sort of urn on her head. It was nice, much nicer than his old office, and she absently wondered how he had been able to afford it. The bartender at the demon bar had informed her that he had switched locations almost a year ago, and she had been hurt that he hadn't told her. Sure, she hadn't visited since that whole debacle with Faith, but it would have been important for her to know. You know, if an apocalypse had turned up or something. Not like they ever had a shortage of those.
The blonde closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the street she had just come from. The sun was starting to rise, casting a reddish glow over the horizon, but she knew that he was already safely inside. She could feel him even after all of these years, and grasping the intricate bronze handle and letting herself inside, she wasn't surprised to see him waiting for her in the lobby. She had been standing outside for a good five minutes trying to muster up the courage to go in.
Seconds ticked by as the former couple stared at each other.
"I'm sorry," Buffy muttered, her eyes sweeping over his all-black-clad form before dropping to the deep red carpet of the foyer. "I told you I would stop showing up here unannounced..." He didn't answer her, but as she looked up, he crossed the room in a few frantic strides and wrapped her up in his arms. Her duffel dropped to the floor, resulting in a dull thump as the weapons it contained made contact with the carpet, and her eyes shot closed as his lips descended on hers. She started as his hands wound around her waist and through her blonde hair, but she quickly gave in, allowing him to kiss her until she was breathless. Buffy sighed, relaxing her small frame against his. What was it about him that could made her feel like a sixteen year old girl again?
And as soon as it had started it was over, leaving her panting and staring blearily up at him. From the look of things, he wasn't faring much better.
"You're here," Angel stated, his silky voice as soft as hers had been only moments before. He was looking down at her like he had never seen anything like her before, his deep, chocolate brown eyes a mixture of surprise and relief.
"Yeah, I am." A few moments passed as the continued to hold each other before they both remembered what these moments had the tendency to lead to. Almost in tandem, the two stepped back, Buffy once again looking down at the carpet and Angel burying his hands deep in the pockets of his black slacks.
"Come on in." He led her further into the lobby of the hotel, watching her closely as she took in the brightly colored tile floor, numerous windows, and high ceilings. It was even more impressive inside than outside."Yeah, I upgraded," Angel acknowledged, reading her mind, or perhaps her dumb-struck expression, as she looked around.
"How?" the blonde questioned once she had found her voice. Once again settling her gaze on her former lover, she saw that he had picked up her bag from where she had dropped it in the foyer and swung it over his shoulder. Buffy gave him a small smile at his chivalry, and he smiled back before answering her question.
"I stayed here once in the 50s," Angel answered, with a cryptic shrug of his shoulders. Buffy wasn't surprised; he had never been one to over share about his life before he had met her. He guided her over to a plush red velvet couch and motioned for her to sit. She did so gratefully, exhausted from her trip. She had never been able to sleep on planes or buses, and the child who had continuously kicked the back of her chair on her flight all the way from Illinois to California hadn't helped. Angel shrugged, dropping the bag by the foot of the couch and settling himself down beside her. "It was abandoned, so I decided to buy it, fix it up, and set up shop."
"How?" Buffy echoed her earlier question, leaning her head back against the soft cushion and closing her eyes.
"You get a lot of interest from leaving money in the bank for over 200 years." Opening her eyes, she focused them on the man beside her and saw that the corners of his full lips had turned up in an amused smile. Mentally, she raised an eyebrow in question. He had never been one to smile, at least since their little debacle with Acathala, instead remaining guarded and sombre around her. His new-found lightheartedness was a pleasure to witness, but she couldn't help wondering where it had come from.
"Yeah, I guess you would." The Slayer flashed him a tired smile and sighed, curling her legs underneath her. There were a few moments of comfortable silence before she broke it. "So, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here, huh?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"I was on my way back to Sunnydale," Buffy started but found herself trailing off. Angel nodded in a 'go ahead' gesture, and she took a second to gather her thoughts before continuing. "I run away. It's what I do." No point beating around the bush.
"I remember." His smile was back, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I was hunting," the blonde continued. Nervously, she tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She winced inwardly as her hand came into contact with her dirty locks. "I met two guys who knew all about the baddies of the world, and I joined them." She watched Angel's face carefully as his eyes shifted to where his hands laid folded in his lap. "I couldn't come back here. I couldn't face them." She knew he understood that she meant the Scoobies, and he remained silent. "I hated being here. It was so loud and bright and violent." Her own eyes shifted down to her lap as she absently picked at a frayed hole in the thigh of her jeans. "After being... there, it was so hard being here. It was like I was in hell." His head snapped up at that, and she glanced up, jarred by his sudden reaction. "What?"
"Where were you?" The question was innocent enough, but the panic behind his words caused her heart to speed up.
"What?" His thinly-veiled panic made her panic, and she leaned forward slightly, resting a gentle hand on his trembling knee.
"When you were... gone." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead,' and even with the use of 'gone,' his eyes clouded with sorrow. "Where were you?" The seconds ticked by as his deep brown eyes bored into hers.
"I, uh," Buffy started, growing increasingly confused the longer she looked at him. "I don't know. I was happy. Wherever I... was, I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it." She paused, struggling to convert her thoughts and feelings into words. "Time didn't mean anything. Nothing had form, but I was still me, you know? And I was warm, and I was loved, and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or any of it, really, but I think I was in heaven." At the last bit, he looked away, and she could have sworn she heard him growl. She definitely heard the string of colorful curse words that he muttered under his breath. "What?" Buffy asked for the third time, confused by his reaction. She hadn't expected this. Shock, probably. Confusion, definitely. But anger?
"They thought you were in Hell." Huh?
"Huh?" she heard herself say.
"Willow, Xander, Dawn," Angel clarified, running his fingers through his typically-gelled hair and leaving it sticking up more than usual. It would have been adorable if it hadn't been such a dire situation. "They thought you were in Hell, and they..."
"Willow did this." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways. At this revelation, everything snapped into place. Being ripped from heaven, waking up in her grave six feet under. She had been pretty out of it at the time, but Buffy did vaguely remember a magical aura lingering at her grave the night that she dug herself out of the ground. She hadn't paid it any attention, being too scared and horrified to be back, but now that she thought about it, it was so clear. Of course it had been Willow. She was surprised that she wasn't shocked by this news, but then again, what had she thought had happened? She had never really given it much thought.
"That idiot child." Angel was muttering again, and all Buffy could do was watch as he rose from the couch and stormed over to the desk in the corner of the lobby. She had never seen him like this. He was always the one who kept cool when she was panicking. Now that the roles were reversed, she had no idea what to do. "Playing with magic. Not thinking about the consequences." He continued to rant quietly to himself as he picked a phone up from the desk, but before he could dial, the Slayer had crossed the room and taken the phone from his hand.
"No," she insisted, placing the wireless phone back in its cradle. "Not like this." The vampire seemed to understand what she was asking of him, and he walked back over to the couch, though the angry expression on his face did not fade. "You weren't surprised that I was alive." He sighed and dropped back onto the couch in the spot that she had previously been occupying, flinging his arm over his face in a very non-Angel show of dramatics.
"Spike told me." Buffy nodded, sitting down next to him and resting her head on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Her mind was still spinning at the revelation that it was Willow who had brought her back, but she was too tired to tackle that issue at the moment. Immediately, he reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. "He's been all over the States trying to find you." At her surprised noise, he sighed again. "He never found you, of course, but whenever he got a lead, he followed it." Pause. "He loves you, Buffy." An edge of jealousy tinged his statement, and his armed tightened imperceptive around her shoulders. She smiled softly, reveling in the feeling of being in his arms once again.
"I know he does."
The two sat in silence for what seemed like forever, simply enjoying each other's company. Buffy found herself drifting in and out of sleep, Angel's protective grasp and the comforting familiarity of his unique scent causing her to doze off. Of course, the peacefulness didn't last long.
"Oh it's you." Buffy started awake, her eyes snapping open to reveal Cordelia staring down at them with a frown on her face. From the look Angel was wearing, he hadn't sensed her approaching her either. The former cheerleader had changed a lot since Buffy had last seen her. Her hair was shorter now, falling only to her shoulders when it had previously hit the middle of her back, and it was substantially lighter. She looked older, more seasoned, and she had lost the viscous gleam in her eye that had prompted Buffy's instant dislike of her so many years ago.
"Hi, Cordy," the greeting was somewhat unenthusiastic, but the Slayer attributed that more to her exhaustion than her dislike of the brunette.
"You've finally come back to California, then," the taller girl continued, sending her a withering glare before turning and bustling about at the desk across the room. "About time. It's not like protecting SunnyHell was your job or anything." Buffy frowned. Well, maybe she wasn't as different as the Slayer had assumed.
"Cordelia," Angel reprimanded, withdrawing his arm from around the blonde's shoulders. She immediately missed the contact.
"I got a call about a vamp nest over on 86th," Cordelia announced, completely ignoring what he had said. "You should take care of that." Angel sighed but nodded.
"Alright." He turned to Buffy, and she nodded before the question had even made it out of his mouth. "Want to come?"
"Yeah, sure." She hadn't had a good fight in a while, and slaying with Angel was always a good time in her book. It had been a long time, and she was curious if it would go as smoothly and effortlessly as it used to. Ignoring the death glare that Cordelia shot her way, the blonde bent down to retrieve two stakes from her duffel before standing and hefting it over her shoulder. With a questioning look at Angel, who had also risen to his feet, she crossed the room and tossed her bag behind the counter at his nod. "But how are we...?" Buffy trailed off, gesturing toward the window. The sun had finally crept up from below the horizon, casting a reddish glow through the lobby. "With the sun, and you and the dust." She clarified unnecessarily. He was already crossing the lobby to an unmarked door on the other side of the spacious room.
"The hotel has built in sewer access," he answered, and she detected a small note of pride in his voice. She chucked, and without another word to Cordelia, followed him through the door and down to the basement.
xXx
The fight had a grueling one, and Buffy knew that she would be feeling it in the morning. After half an hour of schlepping through the sewers, they had arrived at a dank, abandoned duplex on 86th Place just as the sun arched over the trees lining the quiet street. Angel had made a mad dash for the shade that the over hang of the building offered, cursing slightly as small plumes of smoke wound their way out from underneath the blanket he was using as a shelter. Unaffected by the warming light of the sun, Buffy sauntered after him, her hand attached firmly to where the stake was resting comfortably in the pocket of her dark-wash jeans.
"You alright there?"she had whispered in amusement as she sidled up to where he had been pressed flush up against the side of the building in an attempt to shield himself from the golden rays. With an exasperated eye roll, the vampire had immediately crashed through the boarded-up front window of the house, leaving her to scramble in behind him.
It had been quite a while since the blonde's last full-on fight, and she had struggled slightly. She had refused to show it, but her punches were not as strong and her reflexes were not as quick as they had been before she had left Sunnydale. If he had noticed, he hadn't mentioned anything, and the two warriors had spent the next half an hour back to back, protecting each other as they had since they had first met. They hadn't kept score, but Buffy had been slightly overjoyed to see that she had dusted three more vamps than him despite her being out of practice. The vamps had not been fledglings, and both Slayer and vampire had struggled to keep up with their sheer numbers.
As the clouds of dust from the fifteen vampires had settled in the air, the two champions had collapsed to the floor, Buffy having using Angel to break her fall against the dirty hard wood. They had laid there for several moments, enjoying the contact and panting from exertion. But as soon as it had began, it had come to an end, and after accepting a hand up, Buffy had followed Angel out of the decrepit home and back to the hotel.
Without a word to Cordelia upon entering the lobby, Angel had shown her to her room, the room directly across from hers on the seventeenth floor, and bid her goodnight. With a promise to drive her to Sunnydale that evening, he had pressed a chase kiss to her forehead and backed out of the room, leaving her to gaze in awe at the accommodations that had been provided for her.
As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Buffy crossed the room and fell face first onto the bed, her arms flung to the side, as her duffel dropped with a muffled thump onto the carpeted floor. The room was exquisite. Decorated in rich reds and golds, there was a huge four-poster bed in the middle, surrounded by antique tables, chairs, and vases. The Slayer smiled as she flipped over on her back, drinking in the decor that was so uniquely Angel. Simplistic and minimalist but with a hit of Gothic sophistication.
She was exhausted enough to fall asleep right then, but she managed to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom, keenly aware of the dirt and grime that had built up on her skin since the previous afternoon. Buffy stripped off her clothes, wincing slightly as she pulled a sore muscle, and reached into the shower, frowning slightly as she took in the partly used body washes and shampoos. A wave a jealously flowed through her as she thought of the other women that Angel had obviously been entertaining at his hotel, but she quickly squashed it. She had to be the world's biggest hypocrite for being jealous, having embarked on a whirlwind romance with Dean almost as soon as she had met him, but this didn't stop her from being envious of the women Angel chose as company.
There would always be a little residual jealousy when Angel was concerned.
As the warm water washed over her, soothing the various cuts and bruises she had acquired from the earlier fight, Buffy finally allowed her thoughts to drift to Dean and Sam. There had been moments where she had regretted her decision, but in the end, she understood that they both would be better off without her in the picture. She could only bring more danger their way, and they had enough of that without her. They were safer without her, and that was all that mattered.
Sometimes love wasn't enough.
The blonde sighed, finally understanding what Angel had been feeling all those years ago when he turned his back on her, never even looking back as he disappeared into the smoke. It had been for the greater good, and now she found herself in the exact same situation. However, this time, she was the abandoner and not the abandonee.
And what about Willow, Xander, Giles, Spike, and Dawn? Dawn, her sister. The sister that she had left twice, first in death and then when she ran away because she couldn't handle it all. Since her mother had died, she had tried to be a good guardian for Dawn, but it was blatant. She had been a shitty one. She had been barely able to pay the bills, and she had abandoned her when she was the most needed. Would Dawn ever be able to forgive her?
Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Buffy turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy white towel from one of the cabinets to dry herself off with. She took a couple of minutes to patch up the worst of the cuts with a first aid kit from under the sink before wandering back into the bedroom, dropping the towel to the ground and not even bothering to get dressed. Her phone buzzed from insider her duffel bag, and she winced slightly as she bent down to retrieve it.
Sixteen missed calls.
Buffy flipped it open and scrolled through the calls, not at all surprised to see that they were all from Sam. She hadn't expected Dean to call. He was stubborn and she had hurt him, and she knew that these did not make for a good combination emotion-wise. Sighing for what felt like the thousandth time, the blonde dropped the phone on the nightstand and crawled into bed.
As the silk sheets against her naked skin and the numerous fluffy pillows surrounded her, she closed her eyes, not even trying to fight it as sleep finally claimed her.
xXx
She was standing at a crossroads.
Literally.
Buffy was at the intersection of two dirt paths, both stretching endlessly as far as the eye could see. She brought her hand to her eyes in attempt to block out the bright sunlight and scanned the area, only seeing desert and random bunches of foliage past the lip of the road she was standing on. The air was still and suffocating, and there wasn't a sound to be heard despite the outside setting. The blonde sighed, knowing that his had to be some sort of bizarre dream, and from the tingling at the back of her neck, it was going to be one of the Slayer variety.
Great. Just once, she'd like to be pleasantly surprised with a dream of Ryan Reynolds shirtless and engaged in some sort of sporting activity, bonus points if there was oil involved. Was that too much to ask?
Grumbling under her breath about stupid Slayer dreams, Buffy continued to scan the area, completely at a loss about what she was supposed to be looking for. Glancing down, she saw that she was dressed appropriately for the weather in a white dress and flip flops. Points to the PtB. At least they didn't drop her into the middle of this boiling wasteland in a show suit. Then, without warning, there was a rustle of wings behind her, and she whipped around to find herself nose to nose with a dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes.
"Jesus!" Buffy cursed as she jumped backwards, the many years she had spent as the Slayer being the only thing keeping her from screaming loudly like the girl she was. Her green eyes were wide and wild as they swept over the form of the mysterious man in front of her, taking in his odd attire. A full suit and a trench coat, complete with ominous billowiness, in this weather? Crazy much? The power radiating off of him in waves was making her dizzy, and she stumbled back a few more steps as the overwhelming heat of the blazing sun added to her disorientation.
The Slayer managed to quickly compose herself, and in the blink of an eye, she had fallen into a fighting stance. She continued to stare at him as she forced her breathing into even pants in a valiant effort to get her heart to stop hammering against her ribcage. He had made no move to attack or come after her. Really, he had made no move to do anything at all. He stood ramrod straight with his arms hanging tightly at his sides in the exact same place where he had appeared, and he was gazing intently in her general direction. His eyes never focused on her, and the fact that he seemed to be looking through her rather than at her was more startling than his sudden appearance out of thin air.
The two strangers stood in silence for a few moments before his clear blue eyes snapped to attention, slowly and painstakingly traveling from her collarbone to lock with hers. As soon as blue met green, Buffy felt the breath rush out of her lungs, leaving her stunned and panting as he assessed her. She stared at him, hypnotized, and without realizing it, she found all of the tension bleeding from her muscles, leaving her relaxed and loose before him.
"Buffy Summers." His voice was low and gravely, and it took her a few seconds to realize that he had said anything at all. She shook her head slightly to clear her mind and smirked at him, hopefully appearing far more confident than she felt.
"That's me." His bright eyes continued to bore into her soul, but she fought to remain in control despite the fact that she had abandoned her fighting stance the second his eyes had connected with hers.
"I am Castiel," he supplied, never moving a muscle. When he didn't elaborate, she sighed, jutting her hip out to the right and giving him her best annoyed-Buffy look. Unsurprisingly, he didn't react in the slightest.
"Not real free with the information there, are ya?" Buffy quipped, slipping into her old habits once the shock had finally worn off. She was slightly miffed that it had taken her so long to regain her bearings, but hey, it wasn't every day that attractive men appeared out of thin air behind her. Maybe her wishes for fun, sexy dreams had come true! Of course, this guy's creepy soul-searching stare and non-existent personality were sort of killing it. "Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"
"I am an angel of the Lord." A short burst of laughter escaped her lips, but the corners of her mouth turned down as she took in his robotic delivery and the fact that his proclamation didn't continue with a "haha just kidding!"
"You're joking." A ghost of a smile drifted across his lips, but it disappeared so quickly that she was left wondering if she had imagined it.
"That is your problem, Buffy." Her name sounded foreign coming form his lips, and all she could do was stand uncomfortably as he continued to stare at her. She knew that if she attacked, he would have her on the ground in seconds. "You have no faith." The blonde wondered briefly if he was about to make a pun about her sister Slayer, but instead, his eyes turned cold, and the air around them began to crackle with electricity. The sky darkened, and as a particularly long flash of lightning illuminated the scene, large shadowed wings grew from his form, silhouetted black against the light gray sky behind him.
And just like that, they were gone, the brief storm leaving a once again cloudless blue sky in its wake. She blinked, and in place of the imposing man that had stood before her seconds earlier, Castiel was back to looking like a mild mannered tax accountant.
"That was some light show," Buffy agreed, one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow arching up in semi-sarcastic admiration. "But how do I know that you're really an angel and not some figment of my imagination here in dream-land." She gestured absently around her, but his eyes did not follow her movements.
"I assure you, I am not a figment of your imagination." The blonde sighed. Her annoyance with his once sentence answers was growing by the second. She didn't really believe him, but not that it really mattered. She was here to learn something, and that was all. She didn't really care who was doing the teaching. He can teach me any day, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Faith supplied, but she shook it off. Stop it.
"What do you want?" Buffy was tired of this little game and wanted her answers so that she could return to the land of the conscious. Or of more fun, less Slayery dream. His crypticness, in addition to the heat, was starting to make her cranky. She flipped the long blonde hair over her shoulder, whining internally as it stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. Stupid sun.
"I come bearing a message." He must have noticed the muscle ticking in her jaw because he continued a second later without her having to prompt him. "You will return to the Winchesters."
"Oh, right away, Dad." The Slayer rolled her eyes at him, but his face didn't change at all, and it kind of took all of the fun out of the comment. "Seriously? You think I'm going to go back just because some 'angel of the Lord'" – she included airquotes to which he looked confused – "tells me to? Sorry, buddy. I have family, friends, and a duty back in Sunnyhell." She looked around at the intersecting paths, and something clicked. "Really? Crossroads? Could you have picked a place any more cliché than crossroads for this little heart to heart about my life decisions?"
"Our location is unimportant. The only import-..." She cut him off, but he didn't put up a fight. He fell silent the second that she interrupted him, as if he had never been interrupted before and didn't know what to do about it.
"You are hotter than my last messenger, though," Buffy mused, looking him up and down. He really was. He had dark brown hair and sharp features, and she would bet that he was rocking a killer body underneath all of those unnecessary layers. "You know, in that pale, serious, accountant-looking way. Whistler, well, let's just say that he was seriously lacking in the fashion department. Bright green shirts and shiny hats? Not exactly something you'd find in this year's summer line. But I gotta tell you, I always pictured angels more with the togas and fluffy white wings and less with the trench coats and snappy suits."
"This is not a productive topic." She could tell he was getting exasperated with her from the tone of his voice, but nothing in his face or body language indicated his growing impatience with her.
"Fine, fine." Buffy relented, holding her hands up in a sarcastic gesture of surrender that was completely wasted on him.
"You must return to the Winchesters," the angel repeated. "There is an apocalypse on the horizon." Buffy simply rolled her eyes.
"There's always an apocalypse. Like, every year. Literally. They're big boys. They can handle it."
"Not an apocalypse," Castiel clarified. His eyes continued to bore into hers, and Buffy wondered if he ever blinked. Or moved. Or did anything other than stare at people for inappropriately long periods of time. "The Apocalypse. The End of Days." Huh, that was new. "Sam and Dean Winchester must remain alive to avert it. Without you, they will die." Buffy blanched at the thought of the boys dying, but she plowed on.
"They can take care of themselves," the Slayer insisted, her voice wavering only slightly. She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or Castiel. "They're smart and strong and they take care of each other. I'm needed in here. My sister, Wills, Xander, Giles, Angel. They need me." She paused for a second before adding, "and I need them." She wasn't quite so sure of that last part, but that was what she was here to figure out, wasn't it?
"The vampire?" Castiel asked, his eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly. The gesture was so brief and insignificant that she was sure she would have missed it if she had chosen that moment to blink. "The vampire cannot be trusted."
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, and this time, she was the one to furrow her brow. "He's the most trustworthy person I know." The words were out of her mouth before she even had the chance to think about them, a gut reaction to someone attacking her former lover.
"That's right," Castiel mused, and the Slayer could have sworn that something reminiscent of sympathy flitted through his piercing blue eyes. "A forgotten memory, buried deep in your mind." This time, only one word made it through the confused haze of her brain and out of her mouth.
"Huh?" He stepped forward, stumbling slightly at the movement. This earned him another raised eyebrow. "Having some technical difficulties there?" If he had been a regular, emotion-feeling person, Buffy would have sworn that the next look he shot her was a scowl. As it was, the look on his face was more half not paying attention and half constipated.
"This is a new vessel."
"Sure it is." Now past his initial awkwardness at walking, he moved so quickly that she didn't even have the chance to step back before he was standing right in front of her with his middle and pointer fingers pressed against her forehead. "Hey, what the hell are you-..."
Surprised, Buffy blinked, but when she opened her eyes, she was no longer standing at the crossroads. Instead, she was standing on a gravel path, looking out at the ocean. To her left was a pier, the edge closest to the water littered with various food shacks and a Ferris Wheel, and below her was a dark, asphalt road. Beyond the thin strip of road was a long expanse of sparkling sand, and beyond that, clear blue water.
But the weirdest part was that she was looking at herself. She was tanner and her hair was longer, but there was no mistaking it. Buffy watched in awe as her likeness turned its head sharply to the left, and she followed its gaze to a foliage-covered arch immersed in the shadows of the tall tree that it was situated under. And then something miraculous happened. Angel stepped out of the shadows into the sunlight, his face alight with wonder, and with a smile, he crossed the distance between imaginary Buffy and himself before pulling her into a kiss.
The scene faded to white, and before she knew it, she was standing the small kitchen of Angel's old apartment. Buffy gasped in surprise as she watched the younger version of herself allow herself to be hoisted up onto the table by Angel as plates, cups, and other miscellaneous items clattered haphazardly to floor. He embraced her, kissing her like he had by the sea, and real Buffy stumbled, caught off guard by the emotions that were forcing their way from he couple into her own body.
After this, the scenes switched quicker, some so short and choppy that she had trouble keeping up. Angel returning to bed with a tub of ice cream. The two of them fighting some blue-ish demon in the sewers. Making passionate love atop his black silk sheets.
Buffy watched each scene with increasing emotion, her breath coming in short, erratic pants as her eyes followed the movements of herself and her former lover. Just as she managed to get her bearings, the scene faded again, reforming once again in Angel's old kitchen. This time, the lust and passion were gone, replaced instead by overwhelming sorrow and despair.
The Slayer watched with bated breath as her twin paced wildly in the small space of the kitchen, dressed in a long, flowery dress. Her eyes flickered every few seconds to the clock on the microwave, and when Angel appeared at the top of the steps leading from the upstairs, she let out a relieved sigh. Unable to move, Buffy's eyes traveled over the couple as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.
"I'm guessing that expression isn't because they were all out of fresh OJ at the deli," Dream-Buffy quipped, though the comment did little to veil the worry in her voice. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened," Angel answered softly, but it was apparent that he was trying to look at anything but her. "I just..."
"Where have you been?" she insisted, grabbing his shoulder that he would look at her.
"I went to see the Oracles. I asked them to turn me back." Real-Buffy watched, her heart pounding in her throat as his sorrow filled eyes met her twin's frightened ones. Why didn't she remember this? Was this all fake? It was a trick, she was sure of that.
"What? Why?"
"Because more then ever I know how much I love you." Twin tears streaked down both Buffys cheeks as they regarded him with wide eyes.
"No." Dream-Buffy insisted, backpedaling away from her lover with a wild look in her eyes. "No, you didn't." Angel followed her, backing her up against the kitchen table. She looked around wildly, trapped with no place to run.
"And if I stayed mortal, one of us would wind up dead. Maybe both of us."
That's when Buffy zoned out, unshed tears blurring the scene in front of her as Angel and she talked. She remembered this day. The Mohra demon. Oh, God. She stumbled, catching herself from falling on a nearby chair. The blonde sunk down into it, staring ahead of her without fully seeing the exchange that was playing out on the other side of the room. She had come to LA, pissed that Angel had spied on her on Thanksgiving. She had come to yell at him, which she did, and then she left. She couldn't have stayed more than ten minutes.
A soft rustle of wings alerted her to the fact that Castiel had appeared by her side. She didn't look up at him, and he made no move to comfort her.
"It's not true," Buffy mumbled, bringing a hand up to swipe wildly at the tears now coursing down her cheeks. "You're lying. It's not real," she repeated, her voice soft and raw with emotion.
"It is true," came his low, gravely voice, but this time she could sense some repressed emotion clouding his words. She wasn't sure if it was compassion or pity, but it didn't matter either way, did it? "That day you confronted the vampire in Los Angeles, you were attacked by a Mohra demon." Buffy shook her head, refusing to believe it even though she knew that it was true. "He was infected. He became human."
"So, what?" The other Buffy was now practically yelling, her voice high and shrill as she flailed her arms about wildly. "You just took a whole 24 hours to weigh the ups and downs of being a regular Joe and decided it was more fun being a superhero?" Castiel's soothing voice faded into the background as she once again focused her attention on the fighting couple, struggling her hardest to keep from sobbing. It wasn't going so well. She wanted nothing more to run to him, to have him hug her like he was hugging the other Buffy, but she knew that it wouldn't be possible. She was a ghost here, forced to witness a memory that she never had.
"You know that's not it," Angel countered, his voice hitching in his throat. Buffy continued to sob unabashedly, caught off guard with the raw emotion that the vampire was feeling. "How can we be together if the cost is your life, or the lives of others?" After a moment, he took Buffy into his arms and held her close, making soft shushing noises as she sniffled into his shoulder. "I know. I couldn't tell you. I wasn't sure... if I could do it if I woke up with you one more morning." Dream-Buffy was able to compose herself, but Real-Buffy was having no such luck. She hunched over in the chair and dropped her chin to her chest, winding her hands into her blonde locks in an attempt to block out the scene. She felt a light hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Castiel looking down on her with an impassive look on his face.
"A minute?" The younger Buffy was now in hysterics, too, clutching to Angel as she sobbed. He wasn't faring much better. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her, and silent tears were winding their way down his own cheeks. "No. No it's not enough time!"
"We don't have a choice. It's done." It was clear that he was holding it in in an attempt to calm her down, but this only made both Buffys more hysterical. As Castiel's grip tightened on her shoulder, Buffy sobbed into her hands, unable to take her twin's hysterical cries and Angel's soft words of comfort. She had never seen him so emotional, and the fact that he was attempting to stay so calm and collected broke her heart. He had always been there for her, so strong when she was so weak. How could he have kept this from her? They could have shared the pain together. Did he even know? Maybe he didn't know.
"He knows," came Castiel's voice in her ear. "He has always known." Her stomach dropped.
"How am I supposed to go on with my life knowing what we had?" Dream-Buffy asked, staring deeply into Angel's pain-filled eyes. "What we could have had?"
"You won't. No one will know but me." Angel's voice was rough, and Buffy watched as his tears soaked steadily into other-Buffy's blonde hair.
"Everything we did...?"
"It never happened." Buffy stood up on wobbly legs, feeling Castiel's attempt at a comforting gesture disappear the second she left the chair. She turned away from the scene, unable to witness it any longer, but before she could take one step, his grip had refastened on her wrist, holding her in place.
"You must see. You must know what he kept from you." All of the compassion present in his earlier statements had disappeared, returning to its cold, emotionless tone from earlier. Buffy glanced at him briefly but returned her attention to herself and Angel, too emotionally drained to fight his orders.
"No!" Buffy was panicking now, grasping at her lover so hard that it would leave bruises. "Oh, God. It's not enough time." Quietly, Angel shushed her, finally having given into his grief. He sobbed quietly, his body wracked with sobs that shook both of them. "No. I'll never forget. I'll never forget. I'll never forget..."
The scene faded to white one last time, leaving Buffy and Castiel standing once again at the crossroads. He pulled her to look at him, ignoring her anguished sobs, and looked her straight in the eye, commanding her to listen to him.
"You will return to the Winchesters. It is your destiny."
And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the desolate wasteland. As the hot sun beat down on her, she didn't even notice his departure. Distraught and hysterical, Buffy collapsed to the dirt road beneath her, not even realizing as the rocks and pebbles ripped at her bare knees.
xXx
That was a little traumatic for me to write. I was tearing up a bit at the end there.
I am aware that Angel's voice is a bit off. I've never been able to write him very well, but I hope it wasn't too distracting. This is my version of how he would react to the situation that he was put in.
Next stop: Sunnydale!
As always, drop me a review on your way out! Love you all. *kisses*