Chapter Two: Shadows of the Storm
He hated doing this to her. Not only had she not seen him for the past thirty years, but... well it was just that everytime he went to see her it was about something bad, like the world ending, again.
He waited until dark to approach her apartment, because he remembered from last time how un-vampire friendly it was. The first room upon entry was the living room, where a full panel of windows and sunlight woul greet you if proper precaution was not taken.
Everything in the living room and in the whole apartment for that matter was white. The couch that faced the windows, the glass coffee table, the cabinets in the kitchen and even, Angel would have blushed if he could have, the sheets in her bedroom were white.
The kitchen opened up on one side to the living room and perpendicularly to the dinning room. There was a small door in the kitchen, which he knew led to the hallway of her bedroom and bathroom. The last time he had needed her help he had been 'forced' to stay for a long time. The causes of that had been near disaster, which was one reason he had avoided coming to her for help. He had already checked into a motel wiht his crew to avoid further circumstances like that. Cordelia had complained about how it was painful enough to see Sunnydale in a vision, but actually going there? Angel had smiled and replied that if the end of days was coming Sunnydale was the place where it would happen. A slightly aged Wesley had agreed.
So they were off. Wesley and Gunn had gone to contact the new slayer, who had been called when Faith died. Angel knew she lived on Crawford St. from a short conversation with Willow. He also knew that Buffy and the brit, named Victoria, apparently didn't get along. Something about the sense of the way Willow had said it told him better though.
If Buffy was shocked to find Angel at her door she certainly didn't show it.
"Come in," she had said, with incredible calm. She had motioned for Angel to take a seat on the white couch, while she went and stood behind the granite island in the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked in that marvelously calm voice.
Angel shook his head slightly. "I don't think you have my flavor."
"Well, I'm certainly going to need something," he thought his vampire ears detected her saying. He watched her amazed at her gracefullness and beauty as she retrieved a glass and poured herself some wine.
She was wearing a light T-shirt and sweats. She had remained in good shape and her skin was still smooth and tan, with some extra creases around the joints in her hands and elbows. Her hair was dark brown with glints of grey above the ears and one solitary streak of it that ran through her french braid. From her ears hung silver earring with little crosses on them. Her face, was more beautiful in age than in youth. Her hazel eyese still sparkled with vivacity and around the corners of her mouth and eyes were tiny creases. Crows feet! His Buffy had crows feet! That came from smiling a lot? He could imagine them crinkle up as her face lit into a smile. "So what brings you to Sunnydale?" Buffy said, interupting his observations and not leaving her sanctuary behind the counter. Angel got up, unwilling to talk to her from such a distance. "It's bad news isn't it?" Buffy continued. She looked down at her untouched glass of wine. "It always is." The wine was red, like blood. Angel placed his hands slowly on the cool granite countertop and looked down at the girl in front of him. His mind told him that she was almost 50, but in his heart he was almost 300 and so to him she was still just a little girl. Her hazel eyes looked up at him, daring him to break the news.
"Cordy had a vision," Angel plunged right in. Buffy let out a sigh of relief it seemed. "The end of days is coming."
Buffy looked back up at him. Her eyes sparkled with fun. "You sound like a guy in one of those scary movie previews,' it's coming,'" she told him.
"Buffy," he hated to make that expression go away. "This is serious."
"I know," Buffy told him. "You'll need to contact the other slayer--"
"Already done," Angel said.
"And anyone else who's ever helped us," Buffy told him. "We need full force here." She sounded like a commando. She started to fish around some baskets. "I have a contact number here for Riley," she said, as she hunted for the elusive slip of paper.
"You still talk to him?" Angel asked.
Buffy ignored the comment. "The Initiative, or what's left of it at any rate, still has a lot of manpower and that could be useful," she said. "We should also give Spike a ring."
"Where is he?"
"Last I heard? Somewhere in Alaska. He sent Dawn a postcard a while ago... I'll have to ask her."
"Where is she?"
"In Europe," Buffy said shortly. "Do we know exactly what's going to happen?" Angel shook his head, marveling at the amount of the slayer that was still in her. "Then come one," Buffy said, grabbing a long leather jacket that she hadn't worn in years. 50 year olds in leather coats, she allowed a smile to flicker across her face, before she told Angel they were going to Willy's.
He hated doing this to her. Not only had she not seen him for the past thirty years, but... well it was just that everytime he went to see her it was about something bad, like the world ending, again.
He waited until dark to approach her apartment, because he remembered from last time how un-vampire friendly it was. The first room upon entry was the living room, where a full panel of windows and sunlight woul greet you if proper precaution was not taken.
Everything in the living room and in the whole apartment for that matter was white. The couch that faced the windows, the glass coffee table, the cabinets in the kitchen and even, Angel would have blushed if he could have, the sheets in her bedroom were white.
The kitchen opened up on one side to the living room and perpendicularly to the dinning room. There was a small door in the kitchen, which he knew led to the hallway of her bedroom and bathroom. The last time he had needed her help he had been 'forced' to stay for a long time. The causes of that had been near disaster, which was one reason he had avoided coming to her for help. He had already checked into a motel wiht his crew to avoid further circumstances like that. Cordelia had complained about how it was painful enough to see Sunnydale in a vision, but actually going there? Angel had smiled and replied that if the end of days was coming Sunnydale was the place where it would happen. A slightly aged Wesley had agreed.
So they were off. Wesley and Gunn had gone to contact the new slayer, who had been called when Faith died. Angel knew she lived on Crawford St. from a short conversation with Willow. He also knew that Buffy and the brit, named Victoria, apparently didn't get along. Something about the sense of the way Willow had said it told him better though.
If Buffy was shocked to find Angel at her door she certainly didn't show it.
"Come in," she had said, with incredible calm. She had motioned for Angel to take a seat on the white couch, while she went and stood behind the granite island in the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked in that marvelously calm voice.
Angel shook his head slightly. "I don't think you have my flavor."
"Well, I'm certainly going to need something," he thought his vampire ears detected her saying. He watched her amazed at her gracefullness and beauty as she retrieved a glass and poured herself some wine.
She was wearing a light T-shirt and sweats. She had remained in good shape and her skin was still smooth and tan, with some extra creases around the joints in her hands and elbows. Her hair was dark brown with glints of grey above the ears and one solitary streak of it that ran through her french braid. From her ears hung silver earring with little crosses on them. Her face, was more beautiful in age than in youth. Her hazel eyese still sparkled with vivacity and around the corners of her mouth and eyes were tiny creases. Crows feet! His Buffy had crows feet! That came from smiling a lot? He could imagine them crinkle up as her face lit into a smile. "So what brings you to Sunnydale?" Buffy said, interupting his observations and not leaving her sanctuary behind the counter. Angel got up, unwilling to talk to her from such a distance. "It's bad news isn't it?" Buffy continued. She looked down at her untouched glass of wine. "It always is." The wine was red, like blood. Angel placed his hands slowly on the cool granite countertop and looked down at the girl in front of him. His mind told him that she was almost 50, but in his heart he was almost 300 and so to him she was still just a little girl. Her hazel eyes looked up at him, daring him to break the news.
"Cordy had a vision," Angel plunged right in. Buffy let out a sigh of relief it seemed. "The end of days is coming."
Buffy looked back up at him. Her eyes sparkled with fun. "You sound like a guy in one of those scary movie previews,' it's coming,'" she told him.
"Buffy," he hated to make that expression go away. "This is serious."
"I know," Buffy told him. "You'll need to contact the other slayer--"
"Already done," Angel said.
"And anyone else who's ever helped us," Buffy told him. "We need full force here." She sounded like a commando. She started to fish around some baskets. "I have a contact number here for Riley," she said, as she hunted for the elusive slip of paper.
"You still talk to him?" Angel asked.
Buffy ignored the comment. "The Initiative, or what's left of it at any rate, still has a lot of manpower and that could be useful," she said. "We should also give Spike a ring."
"Where is he?"
"Last I heard? Somewhere in Alaska. He sent Dawn a postcard a while ago... I'll have to ask her."
"Where is she?"
"In Europe," Buffy said shortly. "Do we know exactly what's going to happen?" Angel shook his head, marveling at the amount of the slayer that was still in her. "Then come one," Buffy said, grabbing a long leather jacket that she hadn't worn in years. 50 year olds in leather coats, she allowed a smile to flicker across her face, before she told Angel they were going to Willy's.