~*Four*~
"Inside, I was a child that could not mend a broken wing,
Outside, I looked for a way to teach my heart to sing…"
-- Madonna
The silence that passed between them became almost impossible to bear. He stared at her, his mind still reeling. There she was. Standing right before him. Some logical part of his mind was telling him that he must be dreaming, obviously since she was supposed to be dead, there would be no way she could be standing before him. But he had shut out logic.
She was beautiful. Her lithe, slender body was posed as if to move, yet her eyes were wide and scared. She looked so lost. He was afraid to move, afraid to breath, afraid to live… lest she might just disappear into thin air. Neither of them seemed to know what to do next.
So they just stood there. Staring at each other. Content to just drink in each other's presence. It always felt so good when she was near. He felt so safe, so complete. She reminded him of what he was living for. She radiated warmth and kindness… and forgiveness.
A loud, sharp ringing suddenly came from his pocket and broke the silence. It sounded foreign and uninvited to his ears. It was the wake up call that he now wished had never come. It shook both of them out of their trance-like state and their eyes finally broke contact. Swearing inaudibly, Angel reached for the cell phone that had now rung twice. He turned it on, almost ready to throttle whoever would be on the other side.
"Hello…?" He said, trying not to sound too annoyed.
This was all she needed to break her out of her dream. Without even a pause or a second glance at him, she started running.
* * *
She didn't know what had possessed her to start to move, but now her legs had taken over her mind and all she could think of was that she had three more vampires to kill and that she must go after them. The rest of her mind shut down and she concentrated solely on the task of getting out of the alley. Behind her, she heard Angel swear loudly followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. He was coming after her.
Another kick of adrenaline rushed through her veins and she picked up speed. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him or talk to him… she didn't even know why she was running away. All of her reasoning had been thrown out the window… all she knew now was that she needed to keep going. Her strides became longer and her breathing fell into a regular pattern. She concentrated on hearing each thump as her foot hit the pavement. She just wanted to get away. She wanted to get away from him and get away from the feelings that he brought with him. She didn't want to have to deal with that right now. She didn't want to have to deal with anything. Not now.
"Buffy!" He was shouting her name and he was rapidly gaining on her. She was getting tired and he was just getting started.
She pushed another breath out of her burning lungs, willing her tired muscles to continue moving. Some part of her was telling her to stop and turn around, let him catch up so that they could at least talk. She always dreamed of something like this happening. She dreamt of running into him unexpectedly. And now that it finally happened… she wasn't quite sure of what to do with herself.
"Buffy!" His voice was urgent and it was much closer than it had been last time. Within seconds, she felt his strong hands grasp her shoulder, pulling her backwards and jerking her from her momentum. The moment he touched her, she felt every muscle in her body melt. It was as if a shock went through her and rendered her completely helpless. She stopped, desperately trying to force more air into her lungs.
He didn't remove his hand from her shoulder. He just stood there, gently guiding her towards him.
"Buffy…"
The way he said her name… there was longing in his voice, and pain, and remorse. He said it in a way that always made her want to throw herself into his arms.
He was staring at her now, looking over her as if still trying to make sure she was real. He seemed to struggle for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.
"You're… alive…"
She couldn't think. All she could do was nod numbly.
"You're… alive." He repeated those words again, as if trying to convince himself that it was true. Then, as if the realization finally dawned upon, his grasp on her tightened and she found herself being pulled roughly towards him. He hugged her tightly, his arms running gently up and down her back. His breath was hot on her neck and his body trembled, pressed up so closely against hers. He was mumbling something. She couldn't really understand what he was saying, but she didn't really care. It was good just to hear his voice. His arms were strong and familiar. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace; she wanted to cry all of her worries out in those arms. They stood for a moment longer in that embrace, lingering in its warmth. Finally, he stepped back, letting go of her. "I… it's… how?" He asked, bewildered.
She stared at the snow, trying not to let her pain show in her expression. "Willow brought me back… she used a spell." She replied, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.
He looked at her with concern in his eyes. Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew that he was looking at her. Her answer had been inadequate. She silently prayed that he wouldn't push the subject. She knew that he could feel her pain. He always could. Just as she could always feel his.
"I'm… glad you're back." He said softly.
She raised her gaze to meet his, hope rising in her chest. She forced a smile, "Well, you know me, I'm the Slayer. You can never keep me down for long…"
He wasn't buying her charade. She could tell. He was looking at her with those mysterious dark eyes, as if willing her to continue… to tell him what was wrong.
She was tempted. She wanted so much to tell someone… anyone. She didn't want to keep everything pent up inside her anymore. She didn't want to lie anymore. She breathed in slowly, forcing herself to calm down. She kept silent, searching for an excuse to talk about something else. "You're hurt." She finally said, noticing that there was a large gash on his sleeve. Without even thinking, she gently placed her hand over the wound.
He winced, drawing back slightly from her touch. "I'm OK. It's just a flesh wound."
She shook her head, "Come on… my hotel is just a few blocks away. Let me take a look at that arm."
He hesitated, as if trying to decide whether he should go with her or not. Finally, he nodded.
With that, the Slayer and the vampire walked down the deserted streets of Chicago. They walked side by side, keeping a good six inches between them. But to any onlooker, it was obvious that both of them were content to just be within each other's presence.
* * *
"Mistress," Fiore walked into her room, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. "Something has come up…"
"What is it?" She was annoyed. She disliked it when people interrupted her while she was feeding. Slowly, she drew away and looked at him, "This better be good."
The vampire who stood before her seemed to be nervous. He bowed his head, hiding his face from her. "Some of our servants were attacked tonight. There's someone new in town…"
"Were any of our Klak among them?" She asked, her voice urgent and demanding.
He shook his head quickly, trying to ease her anger, "No. None of the Klak were among them group. However, we did lose ten of our servants."
"How can this happen?" She fumed. Off of her table she picked up a candle and threw it hard at Fiore. Her eyes flared up and she growled, "You were supposed to make sure things go smoothly Fiore. I would be greatly disappointed if I find out that there is interference in our plan…"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. I assure you… this won't happen again. I will send more of our servants to take care of this problem." Fiore cringed away from her, backing up slowly.
"I hope that you are right, Fiore." She glared at him with her eyes squinted. "Who is this stranger that has disrupted our Elevation?"
"No one knows who he is. He is… one of us, Mistress." He hesitated, his voice becoming unsure. "He is not human."
Displeasure flashed through her eyes and her hands clenched tightly into fists. "I don't care what he is. Make sure that he is no longer a threat to us. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mistress. Of course." Fiore nodded, trembling. "But… there is a girl… she came to his aid. She… she was strong… she wasn't like other humans…"
"Then take care of her too!" She screamed, throwing another object from the table at him. "I don't care how you do it, but I want them out. We cannot have any interference. I have waited far too long. Do you understand, Fiore?"
"Yes… I understand, Mistress."
"Good." She said, smiling demurely, "Then why are you still standing here?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. I will take care of it right now." He bowed and turned as quickly as he could, scurrying out of her sight.
She watched as he left, anger still burning inside of her. She breathed in slowly, clenching her fists together tightly. "No one will stop us." She hissed into the darkness.
* * *
Buffy was staying at the Crown. Just the pure coincidence of the situation stunned Angel. How long had he been right next to her, without even knowing she was there? He watched her as she led him through the hotel lobby and towards the elevators. She refused to look at him. Her eyes were always directed in front of her, as if there were invisible note cards there that were telling her what to do. Something was different about her. He could no longer feel that air of confidence that used to always hang around her. Her stride no longer held bounce, and her movements were empty… robotic almost. But what scared him the most, was that when he looked into her eyes… he saw nothing. They used to be so vibrant… so alive. But now, she just looked defeated. Something had happened. He wasn't sure what it was… but something had definitely changed. She was just a shell now, a shadow of the girl that he had fallen so madly in love with. He wanted so badly to just grab her and shake her… do anything to get her to react. But he didn't. He just stood there, watching as she led him into her suite.
She shed her coat and threw it onto the nearby couch. She motioned for him to make himself comfortable and disappeared into the next room.
Carefully, he removed his coat. Now that the excitement was over, he was finally aware of the biting pain in his right shoulder. He rotated it slowly, trying to decide the extent of the damage. He sighed, sitting down on the couch.
"So… why are you in Chicago?" He asked loudly, hoping that she could hear him in the other room.
"Giles sent me here. There's some vampire gang I'm supposed to stop." She replied, coming back into the living room with a medical kit. She sat down next to him, opening the kit and taking out some bandages. She looked at him in a clinical manner, impassive. "Take off your shirt."
"What?" He asked, surprised at her request.
"Take off your shirt." She repeated, holding up the bandages, "If I'm going to bandage that arm of yours, I'm going to have to be able to see the wound."
He felt slightly foolish, realizing that she was right. He unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off gently. He turned away from her so that she could dress the cut. Her hands were gentle as they slid over his bare skin, and it took all of his control to not tremble under her touch. She washed the wound carefully with water first then began to wrap the bandage tightly around his arm.
"What about you?" She asked while she worked, "Why are you here?"
"There's this demon that's supposed to be in town. Cordelia had a vision about it and I decided I should investigate." He replied, keeping his tone casual.
She didn't say anything in response. She just continued to work diligently. He watched her, marveling at the way the light hit her golden hair. She looked so beautiful to him. So delicate. He was enchanted by her. Her head was bent down in concentration and he realized that if he just moved a few more inches he would be touching her. He was so tempted to do that. He wanted so desperately to be able to feel her in his arms. He had thought for the longest time that she was dead… and now that she was here sitting next to him, he wanted to grab onto her so that she would never leave again. When she had died, she had left him empty inside. Now, all he wanted, was to be able to feel whole again…
But he knew that was impossible. He could never have what he wanted. He could never let her know just how much he still loved her. It would be unfair to her. He had made the decision two and a half years ago to walk away. It was a decision that had changed both of their lives. And now… that decision was what kept him from stroking her cheek and kissing the breath out of her.
And so instead, he just sat there and watched. Finally, she finished, and taped the bandage in place. She let out a sigh, moving away from him to put the supplies back into the medical kit.
"Thank you." He flexed his arm, testing the bandage.
She looked up at him for a moment, offering a small smile. "No problem."
An awkward moment of silence passed between them. He continued to look at her, and she continued to avoid eye contact.
"I guess… I guess I should go." He said softly.
She nodded slowly, "Yeah… it's getting late…"
He got up, slipping his shirt back on. Somehow, he felt like he needed to say more. "If you ever need any help… you know, with the vampire gang… I'm one floor down… room 1140."
The invitation was left hanging there in the air and he held his breath.
"Thanks, Angel…" She finally said, "Same goes for me."
Without even thinking, he reached out and cupped her chin with his hand. Gently, he guided her head up so that she was looking into his eyes again. "Good night, Buffy."
She let out a shaky sigh, "Good night, Angel."
With that, he let his hand drop back to his side. He gathered up his coat, opened the door, and walked out into the hallway.
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