Before the Dawn
Summary: How does the saying go? It's always darkest before the dawn. This is a story about love lost, memories of long ago, and survival. Or something. (Buffy/Angel, Logan/Max) Angsty; may not make sense 'til the end. This is a cross-over of Buffy and Dark Angel, with a lot more Buffy in this chapter, but probably a lot more Dark Angel in the next one.
AN: //means flashback//
Dedication: To all victims of abuse, may you have strength. If you are abused, please try and get help. If you are an abuser, please try and get help.
Rated R for language, implications of rape, and adult situations…This is not a story for the weak at heart.
Please, Please, please take five minutes to read this and review it.
Part 1: Broken Darkness
*Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.*
The road is hard and black, and I can hear nothing but my thin flip-flops colliding with the pavement in a soft scuffling noise. The sky has a faint gray hew at its edges, I know that in an hour or so the hot light of day will be pouring over me. I hear the faint hum of a car engine in the distance, and I run behind the dense pine trees on the side of the road; hiding. I sit and wait, knowing that the car comes ever closer, hoping it will overlook the small black-clad figure hiding amongst the red-woods.
From the look of it, I know I must be in Northern California by now; you don't see trees like this were I come from. As the car passes, I can see it is a gold mini-van, not the white civic that I dread to see. It most likely is filled with a mom, a dad, two-point five kids and a little dog in back; a happy family. A completely foreign concept to me.
I get back on the road, paying attention to its small and insignificant details, a crack in the asphalt, a patch of grass, an old quarter, a cigarette butt someone has casually discarded. It's stuff like this, the little stuff, that can keep my mind off the big stuff in my life-or whatever's left of it.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//I met him in June. The sun was shining and the air was bright. I had been in L. A. to 'visit my father', who hadn't even been there...changed offices due to an explosion from a gas leak...or something. I didn't even try and find him. Paul was standing outside of a restaurant, his dark black hair blowing softly in the wind, his blue eyes sparkling, a reflection of the ocean. He held the door open for me as I walked in, and asked me if I was waiting for someone. He had a beautiful smile and was all charm, and the light made his tan skin glow. I think it was because of the light that I asked him if he wanted to join me; not knowing him at all. There was something about him, a brightness that I had never really seen before in any man...I spend my days in darkness.//
It was slow and sweet at first: we exchanged phone numbers, smiled shyly at each other, laughed and told each other jokes like old friends. I thought I was in love. Everything seemed to have clicked so well, we were connected...in the sunlight. But it was not to last for long.
Another car passes, I'm so lost in thought I don't even bother to dart into the trees. I merely look up at it as it passes, a black convertible with two lovers in it. They drive slowly, looking more at each other than at the road, and I'm reminded of another time when I saw a couple in a very similar convertible.
//I had come to visit Paul. We had had a long distance relationship for three months now, and although we weren't particularly serious, it had felt as thought we had been dating all our lives. He had left his apartment to go get us Chinese food for dinner, and, through impulse, I had grabbed his phone book, leafing through the yellow pages to PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS. The office, listed as the Hyperion, was only a few blocks away. I suddenly wanted to get a breath of fresh air, just a quick walk. It was dark out, though I walked through the streets with confidence...What do I have to worry about? I saw it: a large, old-fashioned building. Beautiful, and so suiting. A couple in a black convertible sat outside it, kissing. How sweet. She had short brown hair, and he...I knew the back of his head instantly. I suddenly wanted to get out of there. He turned around, as if he sensed me, and called out to me, an expression of guilt all over his beautiful age-less face. He called out to me, said my name, but I didn't want to hear it. I turned and ran the other way. I couldn't deal with it. I told Paul that I was feeling sick, went to bead early, and left the next morning...I haven't seen him sense.//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Maybe if I hadn't been there on that day, seen what I had seen, I would have gone south, to the City of Angels, instead of North. The more I think about it, the more I know I would have. My thoughts are again interrupted by an old rusty old Aztec that pulls up. The man inside it is between twenty and thirty, with scruffy-looking blond hair and a messy stubble on his chin. "Need a lift?" I nod and move toward the vehicle-It beats walking and I know I can take care of myself...or at least I could.
We drive in silence for a while, on the road in the middle of the forest. "Where you headed?" he turns to look at me, and I can see that he is handsome, with clear blue eyes like the ocean. Eyes like Paul. "Doesn't matter," he has to crane his neck to hear me, and I really don't care. "As long as it's north." I continue in a louder voice. I'm strong...or at least I used to be.
"Sure," his voice is calm and soothing, and I could swear I've heard it before, on TV or something. Maybe he's an actor. "I'm headed to Seattle, and I can take you there or drop you off somewhere along the way, if you want." I nod, "Whatever...I mean, thanks."
"Want to tell me what happened to your face?"
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
I had forgotten about my face. I reach up to touch it, wincing as I touch the dark welts and bruises I know are there. "I...I...I fell down the stairs." I don't know why I'm even trying to lie to him. I should just tell him to mind his own business. He nods, and I can tell he doesn't believe me for a heartbeat. I don't care. Screw him. "Listen, I have to stop here for gas. Can I get you anything to eat, or drink?" Those blue eyes stare into mine, and I can tell he's a sincere, good, man. But what do I know about good men...
"No, I'm fine." My voice sounds hallow in my own ears. "Thank you." He leaves, and I look around at the gas station. So familiar.
//It started in a gas station. After a party we had been to together. We had been dating for 5 months. "Get me a soda, will you babe?" I know that's what he said. I can remember it perfectly. I went in, got him a Diet Coke, paid for the gas, and walked back to his car. A white civic. "What the fuck is this?" I gave him a look like *what the hell are you talking about?* That's when it came: one blow, hard and fast. I can still feel its sting on my face. But I wasn't weak. I wouldn't let him do this to me. I grabbed his hand so fast that I doubt he even saw it. "Don't you ever touch me again." Then he turned into my Paul again. "Oh my God, honey, did I hit you? How could I have? I must have had too much to drink. Are you okay. I am so sorry." He sent me flowers the next day. I believed him.//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Blue eyes comes back with a grocery bag. I can tell something's on his mind. He looks worried. "Here, I got you a Coke anyway. You don't have to drink it if you don't want to. My name's Logan, by the way."
"Thanks. I'm Anne." The lie rolls off my tongue as easily as if it had been the truth…anyway, it's not a complete lie, my middle name is Anne. I see his eyes looking at me curiously. I look away, ashamed of what I am, of what I must look like to him. I look at the coke bottle. It looks okay, unopened.
//"Here, hun, I got you a coke."
"Paul, it's open."
"Yeah, baby, I was thirsty, and I took a sip." It tasted funny...I should have picked up something, should have done something. But I just smiled and said thanks.//
"Listen," Logan's voice pierces my thoughts like a thousand arrows. "I know I'm a total stranger right now, and I know you don't really trust me, but it seams like your in a dark place right now, and trust me, I've been to some pretty light-less places. So if you need to talk, or anything, you can trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of that. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, well those stairs sure did a number on you."
"It's not like that. I really can hold my own-I could kick your ass in about five seconds."
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Trust me, were I come from a few girls could definitely give my a beating. I've just known a lot of girls who 'fell down the stairs', and they all happen to live in one-story houses. It's a dangerous world out there, and well...not all guys are as easily beat-up as I am." He smiles, giving me a *see how pathetic I am* look.
"So what's your story?"
"My story?"
"Yeah, what brings you to the middle of nowhere on a Sunday morning?"
"Just a job for work. Had to talk to a source in LA."
"You're a reporter?"
"You might say that, yeah."
"Do you have a girl friend?" He looks at me funny. Great, now he thinks I'm hitting on him. I roll my eyes and I think he catches the fact that I am so not interested.
"Well, I'm not sure if you'd call her my girlfriend, but it's something like that."
"Tell me about her." I haven't talked this much since...well, not for a long time. It's nice, and I feel really relaxed around 'Logan'. He clears his throat before beginning. "Well, Anne, she actually reminds me a lot of you. Always playing it strong on the outside, full of secrets, sort of mysterious. I love her with all my heart." How sweet. What a fairy-tale life, if there ever was one. "So why is she only your 'sort-of' girlfriend?"
"It's complicated. Something happened awhile back, and, well we can't really be together. I love her, but I can't even touch her; it's just complicated. Sometimes I think its all just a big freak show. Like we're doomed to not be together."
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//"I'll never have a normal life." God, that seems like so long ago.
"Right. You'll always be the slayer. But that's all the more reason you should have a real relationship instead of this-this freak-show...I didn't mean that." Hadn't he? Hadn't he meant that?
"I wanna go." But I didn't want you to go.
"I'm sorry Buffy. You know how much I love you. It kills me to say this." God, then why the hell did you shatter my heart by saying it? Why go through all the trouble for something you don't really want?//
I look at him, so similar and so different to the man I love. "Yeah, I know something about freak-shows." He turns stare back at me, and I know he wants to know about my life. "Look, I know what it's like to have...circumstances. To be different, and complicated. But listen to me Logan. If you really love her you'll stay with her. You'll fight by her side. If she can't deal with the 'freak-show' she can leave, it's her choice. But make sure it's not a choice you make for her. It might be the worst thing in your life." The tears are rolling down my puffy cheeks. I didn't mean to start crying, but now that I have, I know that I won't be able to stop.
"Who knows...someday you might find a loop-hole, to your...circumstances. But just promise me one thing; for the sake of girls like me, girls who are tough on the out-side but human on the inside-don't give up on what you have with her. Not yet. If you cherish her and her sanity, and if you really love her, stay with her. 'Cause no matter what, you'll both probably be better off for it." He reaches over to hand me a Kleenex.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//My blood was all over the Kleenex that I was holding to my bloody nose. How had this started? How did I get here? He had been at the same restaurant that we were at. He had been with Cordelia, just a few tables across from Paul and I. He had seen me before I had seen him. He walked up to the table. Talked, introduced himself, been a gentleman. But I could tell from the look on his face that he wanted to kill Paul, and I wanted to kill him for it. He couldn't love Cordelia and me at the same time. It was a choice. He couldn't do both.
Paul had been a perfect gentlemen. Until we got home. "Who the hell is he?" His voice was so loud that I couldn't hear my own thoughts. I've never heard anyone so angry in my life...and that's that my night job is rated PG-14 for violence and language. He kicked me across the stomach. Hard. It knocked the air out of me, but I wasn't phased. I jumped to get up, but my muscles weren't working. I couldn't get up. He punched me across the nose. The blood was everywhere, and then, blackness.//
"You speak from experience?" Logan's tone is so innocent that I'm tempted to tell him everything. I look out the window. We must be out of California by now from the look of it. I look at the clock. 6:00 P.M. I've been in this car with Logan for about 12 hours.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." His eyes are begging me to go on, and for some uncontrollable reason, I do. "I loved someone…with all my heart. People thought we were crazy, and maybe we were, we were so different, but so in love that we forgot that it really mattered. Then he hurt me, and I hurt me back, and then he was gone, for an entire summer—the longest of my life—and then he came back. But…there were circumstances, and the fact of it was that we couldn't move forward, and so he left. He made the decisions—without me—he thought he was doing the best thing for me, but things would have been better the way we were.
I take a breath, my swollen lips hurting from all the talking. I had almost forgotten that the bruises were there. I stare out the window as I finish the testimony of the most important part of my broken love life. "I was happier there, in that frozen moment of not moving forward than I ever have been since. It may have been difficult, but it was love, real love. Everything else has been a lie." I reach up to touch my battered face, suddenly ashamed. I look to the floor of Logan's old Aztec; I don't want to talk anymore. On the floor I see a bottle of medication…just as I had yesterday morning.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//I don't know why I hadn't left him yet. I knew that I didn't love him, and that he didn't love me. No man would do what he did to me to a woman he loved. The beatings had been going on for two months; an endless hell for me. I had tried to hurt him back, but the strength I had for so long had faded; I was afraid to tell anyone. Maybe it was like Spike always said: I like a monster in my man. And Paul fit the description perfectly; he was more like the devil than anyone I had ever met. As I stared at myself in the mirror, taking in the broken figure that was myself, I wanted to kill him.
That's when I saw it. On the floor of the bathroom. The floor of the bathroom I had locked myself in for protection…who would have thought? It was a mess…blood stains on the blue and white tile, glass shards from the mirror which had shattered the night before, due to an untimely collision with my head…the door was locked; I had made sure of that this time. I picked up the bottle. Read what was on the label: Phlydoziperrin…then I read the caution label: Caution: This is a heavy muscle relaxant only to be used in extreme case of epilepsy…may cause severe muscular atrophy…muscular spasms…prolonged usage may result in death. I opened the bottle, only to find a finely ground powder…much like one I had been finding on top of my food recently…//
He sees me staring at the bottle on the floor and looks up at me, his blue eyes piercing my hazel ones. I want him to go away, I want myself to go away, but instead I just raise my eyebrows in a questioning sort of way.
"Oh, that? It's medication." He hesitates before going on at a nod from me. "For the girl I was telling you about. She, she gets these seizures and that's pretty much the only thing that helps…I carry it around everywhere…just worrying that you know…"
"Something will happen." I finish his sentence as if it were my own. He carries her medicine just like I carry a stake…as a precaution. It's funny how I've known this man for such a little time but I already feel such a connection to him, like I could tell him everything about my life and everything would all be better. I feel so comfortable around this Logan, not romantically—it's obvious we've both got other people on our minds—but like I've known him for years. In some ways, in the little ways, he reminds me of him…the love of my life. The man that consumes my dreams every night, the one that I should be running to right now.
"What are you thinking about?" he looks at me with kind eyes, and I wonder what kind of battered image he sees…I haven't looked in the mirror all days and I don't plan to, don't want to see what remains of the girl who once defeated a god.
"The man, the man I told you about earlier—the one who left."
//I remember the time we met at the in-between place, just a few days after I'd come back. I was alive—which had come as a shock to him—but I was dead and broken at the same time. But while I was with him, nothing had mattered, it didn't matter how I looked—or worse, how my friends looked at me. He treated me the way he always had, gently, but with a fire in his eyes. He held me, told me he loved me, and I wanted to stay frozen in that moment forever…But that seems like long ago, before the I had seen him in the convertible, before the restaurant, before his son…
I had punched a brick wall when I saw them…out at night, walking along the sidewalk, like a perfect family. She was there, holding his hands, laughing. Not the fake laugh she had in high school, but a real happy laugh. He looked happy, he was smiling, and they were pushing a beautiful baby boy in a stroller. Right then I knew that he was his…same chocolate eyes. And that's when I realized it: they were happy. They were happy without me, and who was I to go and try to ruin all that? I hated myself for hating their happiness, hated the truth: I was not a part of their lives anymore.//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
"Anne? Anne? Are you with me?" Logan reaches over and waves his hand in front of my glossed-over eyes. I snap out of the memory. I nod in his general direction. He hesitates, and I know his next question isn't going to be an easy one. He looks at me, then back at the road before he begins. "I know I'm prying here, and if you don't want to tell me, it's okay. I won't ask again, but I have to now—you can tell me if I'm out of line. Who did that to your face?"
I study the blue plastic dashboard before answering, not quite sure how to respond. Suddenly, before I know it, the word's begin to flood out of my mouth…
"I know what your thinking, but it wasn't like that."
"How was it like?"
"He hit me." The words were out before I could stop them, but it was the truth…to some extent—hit was an understatement.
//I went crazy when I saw the bottle of muscle relaxants. I felt betrayed, angry—but most of all I felt stupid. Stupid that I had let myself become this used person, this shell of what I once was. My mistake was carried on as I flew out of the bathroom. It would have been better to have just left quietly. But I wanted revenge. I wanted blood. "What the hell is this?" He was in his pristine living-room watching TV on the 46 inch. You would have never known that such a beautiful apartment would have belonged to such a monster… "Who the fuck do you think you are, trying to play me? What the fuck were you doing?" I threw the bottle at him and jumped on him, beating on his chest and face with my now-useless muscles. I wanted him dead.
"What the fuck is this you bitch?" He threw the popcorn that he had been holding in his lap at my face before his fist went into my stomach. The impact threw me against the floor. He stood up and kicked me like a dog, like I wasn't even human, all the while yelling, "Fucking bitch! Should have known a whore like you would have done this." I swung out my legs, trying to trip him, causing him to stumble slightly. With every ounce of strength I had, I kicked him in the balls.
"FUCK!" He swung at me, and I'm not sure weather it connected or not, but it probably did, because I can't remember anything after that…//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Logan's head snaps around, and he looks like I've told him that the world is ending. "Who hit you? Is it the man you were talking about?"
I close my eyes, wanting it all to be over. Finally when I open them, I give him the answer he is waiting for. "No. He wouldn't…he isn't…he would never do that. Never. I got involved with someone else, about eight months ago. I thought I was in love—I guess I was a fool. The thing was, Paul was completely different than anyone else I had ever dated—including the man I was telling you about. I thought he was all sunlight and smiles, and then he changed. I warned him that I would kill him if he ever hurt me physically, and I showed him just how strong I was. But he continued to beat me, and I couldn't fight back—for the first time in my life. Last night, I discovered that he was giving me over-the-counter muscle relaxants, and I went crazy. I wanted to kill him, and for a while there I thought I would. He…he hurt me worse then he ever did, and when I was unconscious…"
I woke up to find in a puddle of blood, my clothes in tatters. My pants were down to my knees, my panties were torn, and my shirt was torn, long fingernail marks running through the silk fabric. It suddenly occurred to me—I had been raped. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to die. But I knew that I had to get out of the apartment if I wanted to survive. I looked out the window, relieved to find that Paul's car wasn't there. But he would be back. My brain went on automatic pilot as I went to the bathroom, washed my face and body quickly, and put on a fresh change of clothes and my flip-flops on. As I went threw the house, quickly packing a small bag, all I could think about was my sister, as a baby. How I would carry her around the house, knowing that she was *my* little sister, knowing that I had to set a good example. God, what was I? I was a horrible example…
I'm not sure how I finally made it out of the apartment, but I managed to get a taxi to the outskirts of town, which is were I started walking…
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
"…I think he raped me." I finish, pushing the memory to the back of my brain, were I don't have to think about it. He looks shocked. I barely realize that he's pulled over, and is looking at me with complete shock. He reaches over to grab my hand, but I turn away. I don't want anyone to touch me right now.
"Buffy?" I hear someone calling my name, but it doesn't sound like Logan's voice, and he doesn't even know my real name.
I turn back to him and continue. "When I woke up, I got my things ready, took a shower, and left. I took a taxi as far as I could afford it, and then I walked. After about 8 hours of walking—give or take a few—a man pulled up in an old Aztec and offered me a ride. And here I am, not understanding why I poured out my deepest and darkest moments in life to a complete stranger."
"Buffy, please." I hear the voice again, but Logan's lips aren't even moving. Maybe I'm just going insane.
Logan looks at me seriously, then reaches his hand out again. This time I take it and cling to it like a lifeline. Before I know it, the words are coming again, spilling out so fast that I can't control them, stumbling off my tongue and crashing together in a jumble.
"Look, I just wanted to thank you for listening…I guess I was confused…but just talking to you helped me clarify a lot of things in my life…I…I think you should really try to stay with that girl…might save her life…wish he had done that for me." Then come the tears, and the darkness of the last few months seems to catch up with me, and I feel very alone.
Then, the voice comes again. "Buffy, just come to my voice." But before I know it, it's gone, and Logan is talking again.
"Listen." He pulls me closer to him, his blue eyes sincere. "I think that the man, the one that you were talking about—the one who was the love of your life—probably still loves you. I think you should go to him, and tell him everything you told me. Trust me, Anne, people don't just fall out of love with people, and I'm sure he'll want to take care of you. And if not, you can come with me, and me and Max will take care of you. I know it's a gamble going back to this guy, but if there's one thing you've taught me…is that love is worth the gamble."
*Beep. Beep. Beep.* Suddenly Logan's face seems to dissolve, and the beeping and the voice calling 'Buffy' fills my head, becoming more and more real. I close my eyes, knowing that I've gone completely insane. When I open them again, I am in shock at what I see…
The beeping continues as I look up into the worried and lined face of the man I love, my Angel. He sees me looking at him and I can see him sigh with what looks like relief.
"Oh, Buffy, I've been so worried, your awake, your awake." He starts grinning like an idiot and I think I can see tears running down his cheeks.
Wait a second, what the hell? Where the hell am I? My eyes dart around the surroundings, taking them in. I am in a stiff bead with a pink covered blanket. A device with by my bead with little lines on a monitor beeps continually. An EKG. I'm in a hospital.
"Logan, where are you?" My words are slurred, and I can feel that my mouth and lips are puffy.
Angel looks down at me through his tears, and I can see a rage building up inside of him. "Is that the bastard who did this to you? Oh God, Buffy, if the neighbor hadn't gone in and called 9-11…God, I don't know what I would have done…"
"Angel." I say his name for the first time, and suddenly everything, all the worry and heartache, all the darkness is broken. The darkness is broken. I am here, with the man I love, and suddenly, nothing else matters.
I look up at him, and suddenly Logan's words echo in my ears. 'Love is worth the gamble.' I take that gamble, and say, "Angel, I love you. I just had the weirdest dream…" Then it occurs to me why we can't be together, and I look at his worried and relieved face, saying, "What about Cordelia?"
"God, the time you saw us in the car was a one time thing. She broke up with me the day after, saying she couldn't compete with my love for you. And she was right. I love her as a sister, but Buffy, I love you as much now as I always have. I just… I just can't believe that you wouldn't tell me that this was happening! I mean, if the neighbor hadn't heard the screams, if she hadn't called the police…you were unconscious for eight hours, Buffy! You could have bled to death…" His words trail off, turning into a low growl at the end. The look on his face is one of such protectiveness, of such love…I know we'll make it. Some way, some how, we'll do it. It won't be easy, and it won't be quick, but we'll survive, together.
As for Logan, I don't know how to thank him enough for what he did…for setting my priorities straight, for making me realize just how much I loved my guardian angel. I just hope I'll be able to thank him in my dreams…But I am happy now. The darkness is broken.
The End…For now.
A/N: Okay, I know this had a lot more Buffy than Dark Angel, but I really love Dark Angel, and, depending on how many reviews I get, I plan to write a sequel or epilogue that will probably be completely Dark Angel…so, please take five seconds to review this story…whether you love it or you hate it, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks—Terin(
Summary: How does the saying go? It's always darkest before the dawn. This is a story about love lost, memories of long ago, and survival. Or something. (Buffy/Angel, Logan/Max) Angsty; may not make sense 'til the end. This is a cross-over of Buffy and Dark Angel, with a lot more Buffy in this chapter, but probably a lot more Dark Angel in the next one.
AN: //means flashback//
Dedication: To all victims of abuse, may you have strength. If you are abused, please try and get help. If you are an abuser, please try and get help.
Rated R for language, implications of rape, and adult situations…This is not a story for the weak at heart.
Please, Please, please take five minutes to read this and review it.
Part 1: Broken Darkness
*Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.*
The road is hard and black, and I can hear nothing but my thin flip-flops colliding with the pavement in a soft scuffling noise. The sky has a faint gray hew at its edges, I know that in an hour or so the hot light of day will be pouring over me. I hear the faint hum of a car engine in the distance, and I run behind the dense pine trees on the side of the road; hiding. I sit and wait, knowing that the car comes ever closer, hoping it will overlook the small black-clad figure hiding amongst the red-woods.
From the look of it, I know I must be in Northern California by now; you don't see trees like this were I come from. As the car passes, I can see it is a gold mini-van, not the white civic that I dread to see. It most likely is filled with a mom, a dad, two-point five kids and a little dog in back; a happy family. A completely foreign concept to me.
I get back on the road, paying attention to its small and insignificant details, a crack in the asphalt, a patch of grass, an old quarter, a cigarette butt someone has casually discarded. It's stuff like this, the little stuff, that can keep my mind off the big stuff in my life-or whatever's left of it.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//I met him in June. The sun was shining and the air was bright. I had been in L. A. to 'visit my father', who hadn't even been there...changed offices due to an explosion from a gas leak...or something. I didn't even try and find him. Paul was standing outside of a restaurant, his dark black hair blowing softly in the wind, his blue eyes sparkling, a reflection of the ocean. He held the door open for me as I walked in, and asked me if I was waiting for someone. He had a beautiful smile and was all charm, and the light made his tan skin glow. I think it was because of the light that I asked him if he wanted to join me; not knowing him at all. There was something about him, a brightness that I had never really seen before in any man...I spend my days in darkness.//
It was slow and sweet at first: we exchanged phone numbers, smiled shyly at each other, laughed and told each other jokes like old friends. I thought I was in love. Everything seemed to have clicked so well, we were connected...in the sunlight. But it was not to last for long.
Another car passes, I'm so lost in thought I don't even bother to dart into the trees. I merely look up at it as it passes, a black convertible with two lovers in it. They drive slowly, looking more at each other than at the road, and I'm reminded of another time when I saw a couple in a very similar convertible.
//I had come to visit Paul. We had had a long distance relationship for three months now, and although we weren't particularly serious, it had felt as thought we had been dating all our lives. He had left his apartment to go get us Chinese food for dinner, and, through impulse, I had grabbed his phone book, leafing through the yellow pages to PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS. The office, listed as the Hyperion, was only a few blocks away. I suddenly wanted to get a breath of fresh air, just a quick walk. It was dark out, though I walked through the streets with confidence...What do I have to worry about? I saw it: a large, old-fashioned building. Beautiful, and so suiting. A couple in a black convertible sat outside it, kissing. How sweet. She had short brown hair, and he...I knew the back of his head instantly. I suddenly wanted to get out of there. He turned around, as if he sensed me, and called out to me, an expression of guilt all over his beautiful age-less face. He called out to me, said my name, but I didn't want to hear it. I turned and ran the other way. I couldn't deal with it. I told Paul that I was feeling sick, went to bead early, and left the next morning...I haven't seen him sense.//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Maybe if I hadn't been there on that day, seen what I had seen, I would have gone south, to the City of Angels, instead of North. The more I think about it, the more I know I would have. My thoughts are again interrupted by an old rusty old Aztec that pulls up. The man inside it is between twenty and thirty, with scruffy-looking blond hair and a messy stubble on his chin. "Need a lift?" I nod and move toward the vehicle-It beats walking and I know I can take care of myself...or at least I could.
We drive in silence for a while, on the road in the middle of the forest. "Where you headed?" he turns to look at me, and I can see that he is handsome, with clear blue eyes like the ocean. Eyes like Paul. "Doesn't matter," he has to crane his neck to hear me, and I really don't care. "As long as it's north." I continue in a louder voice. I'm strong...or at least I used to be.
"Sure," his voice is calm and soothing, and I could swear I've heard it before, on TV or something. Maybe he's an actor. "I'm headed to Seattle, and I can take you there or drop you off somewhere along the way, if you want." I nod, "Whatever...I mean, thanks."
"Want to tell me what happened to your face?"
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
I had forgotten about my face. I reach up to touch it, wincing as I touch the dark welts and bruises I know are there. "I...I...I fell down the stairs." I don't know why I'm even trying to lie to him. I should just tell him to mind his own business. He nods, and I can tell he doesn't believe me for a heartbeat. I don't care. Screw him. "Listen, I have to stop here for gas. Can I get you anything to eat, or drink?" Those blue eyes stare into mine, and I can tell he's a sincere, good, man. But what do I know about good men...
"No, I'm fine." My voice sounds hallow in my own ears. "Thank you." He leaves, and I look around at the gas station. So familiar.
//It started in a gas station. After a party we had been to together. We had been dating for 5 months. "Get me a soda, will you babe?" I know that's what he said. I can remember it perfectly. I went in, got him a Diet Coke, paid for the gas, and walked back to his car. A white civic. "What the fuck is this?" I gave him a look like *what the hell are you talking about?* That's when it came: one blow, hard and fast. I can still feel its sting on my face. But I wasn't weak. I wouldn't let him do this to me. I grabbed his hand so fast that I doubt he even saw it. "Don't you ever touch me again." Then he turned into my Paul again. "Oh my God, honey, did I hit you? How could I have? I must have had too much to drink. Are you okay. I am so sorry." He sent me flowers the next day. I believed him.//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Blue eyes comes back with a grocery bag. I can tell something's on his mind. He looks worried. "Here, I got you a Coke anyway. You don't have to drink it if you don't want to. My name's Logan, by the way."
"Thanks. I'm Anne." The lie rolls off my tongue as easily as if it had been the truth…anyway, it's not a complete lie, my middle name is Anne. I see his eyes looking at me curiously. I look away, ashamed of what I am, of what I must look like to him. I look at the coke bottle. It looks okay, unopened.
//"Here, hun, I got you a coke."
"Paul, it's open."
"Yeah, baby, I was thirsty, and I took a sip." It tasted funny...I should have picked up something, should have done something. But I just smiled and said thanks.//
"Listen," Logan's voice pierces my thoughts like a thousand arrows. "I know I'm a total stranger right now, and I know you don't really trust me, but it seams like your in a dark place right now, and trust me, I've been to some pretty light-less places. So if you need to talk, or anything, you can trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of that. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, well those stairs sure did a number on you."
"It's not like that. I really can hold my own-I could kick your ass in about five seconds."
"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Trust me, were I come from a few girls could definitely give my a beating. I've just known a lot of girls who 'fell down the stairs', and they all happen to live in one-story houses. It's a dangerous world out there, and well...not all guys are as easily beat-up as I am." He smiles, giving me a *see how pathetic I am* look.
"So what's your story?"
"My story?"
"Yeah, what brings you to the middle of nowhere on a Sunday morning?"
"Just a job for work. Had to talk to a source in LA."
"You're a reporter?"
"You might say that, yeah."
"Do you have a girl friend?" He looks at me funny. Great, now he thinks I'm hitting on him. I roll my eyes and I think he catches the fact that I am so not interested.
"Well, I'm not sure if you'd call her my girlfriend, but it's something like that."
"Tell me about her." I haven't talked this much since...well, not for a long time. It's nice, and I feel really relaxed around 'Logan'. He clears his throat before beginning. "Well, Anne, she actually reminds me a lot of you. Always playing it strong on the outside, full of secrets, sort of mysterious. I love her with all my heart." How sweet. What a fairy-tale life, if there ever was one. "So why is she only your 'sort-of' girlfriend?"
"It's complicated. Something happened awhile back, and, well we can't really be together. I love her, but I can't even touch her; it's just complicated. Sometimes I think its all just a big freak show. Like we're doomed to not be together."
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//"I'll never have a normal life." God, that seems like so long ago.
"Right. You'll always be the slayer. But that's all the more reason you should have a real relationship instead of this-this freak-show...I didn't mean that." Hadn't he? Hadn't he meant that?
"I wanna go." But I didn't want you to go.
"I'm sorry Buffy. You know how much I love you. It kills me to say this." God, then why the hell did you shatter my heart by saying it? Why go through all the trouble for something you don't really want?//
I look at him, so similar and so different to the man I love. "Yeah, I know something about freak-shows." He turns stare back at me, and I know he wants to know about my life. "Look, I know what it's like to have...circumstances. To be different, and complicated. But listen to me Logan. If you really love her you'll stay with her. You'll fight by her side. If she can't deal with the 'freak-show' she can leave, it's her choice. But make sure it's not a choice you make for her. It might be the worst thing in your life." The tears are rolling down my puffy cheeks. I didn't mean to start crying, but now that I have, I know that I won't be able to stop.
"Who knows...someday you might find a loop-hole, to your...circumstances. But just promise me one thing; for the sake of girls like me, girls who are tough on the out-side but human on the inside-don't give up on what you have with her. Not yet. If you cherish her and her sanity, and if you really love her, stay with her. 'Cause no matter what, you'll both probably be better off for it." He reaches over to hand me a Kleenex.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//My blood was all over the Kleenex that I was holding to my bloody nose. How had this started? How did I get here? He had been at the same restaurant that we were at. He had been with Cordelia, just a few tables across from Paul and I. He had seen me before I had seen him. He walked up to the table. Talked, introduced himself, been a gentleman. But I could tell from the look on his face that he wanted to kill Paul, and I wanted to kill him for it. He couldn't love Cordelia and me at the same time. It was a choice. He couldn't do both.
Paul had been a perfect gentlemen. Until we got home. "Who the hell is he?" His voice was so loud that I couldn't hear my own thoughts. I've never heard anyone so angry in my life...and that's that my night job is rated PG-14 for violence and language. He kicked me across the stomach. Hard. It knocked the air out of me, but I wasn't phased. I jumped to get up, but my muscles weren't working. I couldn't get up. He punched me across the nose. The blood was everywhere, and then, blackness.//
"You speak from experience?" Logan's tone is so innocent that I'm tempted to tell him everything. I look out the window. We must be out of California by now from the look of it. I look at the clock. 6:00 P.M. I've been in this car with Logan for about 12 hours.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." His eyes are begging me to go on, and for some uncontrollable reason, I do. "I loved someone…with all my heart. People thought we were crazy, and maybe we were, we were so different, but so in love that we forgot that it really mattered. Then he hurt me, and I hurt me back, and then he was gone, for an entire summer—the longest of my life—and then he came back. But…there were circumstances, and the fact of it was that we couldn't move forward, and so he left. He made the decisions—without me—he thought he was doing the best thing for me, but things would have been better the way we were.
I take a breath, my swollen lips hurting from all the talking. I had almost forgotten that the bruises were there. I stare out the window as I finish the testimony of the most important part of my broken love life. "I was happier there, in that frozen moment of not moving forward than I ever have been since. It may have been difficult, but it was love, real love. Everything else has been a lie." I reach up to touch my battered face, suddenly ashamed. I look to the floor of Logan's old Aztec; I don't want to talk anymore. On the floor I see a bottle of medication…just as I had yesterday morning.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
//I don't know why I hadn't left him yet. I knew that I didn't love him, and that he didn't love me. No man would do what he did to me to a woman he loved. The beatings had been going on for two months; an endless hell for me. I had tried to hurt him back, but the strength I had for so long had faded; I was afraid to tell anyone. Maybe it was like Spike always said: I like a monster in my man. And Paul fit the description perfectly; he was more like the devil than anyone I had ever met. As I stared at myself in the mirror, taking in the broken figure that was myself, I wanted to kill him.
That's when I saw it. On the floor of the bathroom. The floor of the bathroom I had locked myself in for protection…who would have thought? It was a mess…blood stains on the blue and white tile, glass shards from the mirror which had shattered the night before, due to an untimely collision with my head…the door was locked; I had made sure of that this time. I picked up the bottle. Read what was on the label: Phlydoziperrin…then I read the caution label: Caution: This is a heavy muscle relaxant only to be used in extreme case of epilepsy…may cause severe muscular atrophy…muscular spasms…prolonged usage may result in death. I opened the bottle, only to find a finely ground powder…much like one I had been finding on top of my food recently…//
He sees me staring at the bottle on the floor and looks up at me, his blue eyes piercing my hazel ones. I want him to go away, I want myself to go away, but instead I just raise my eyebrows in a questioning sort of way.
"Oh, that? It's medication." He hesitates before going on at a nod from me. "For the girl I was telling you about. She, she gets these seizures and that's pretty much the only thing that helps…I carry it around everywhere…just worrying that you know…"
"Something will happen." I finish his sentence as if it were my own. He carries her medicine just like I carry a stake…as a precaution. It's funny how I've known this man for such a little time but I already feel such a connection to him, like I could tell him everything about my life and everything would all be better. I feel so comfortable around this Logan, not romantically—it's obvious we've both got other people on our minds—but like I've known him for years. In some ways, in the little ways, he reminds me of him…the love of my life. The man that consumes my dreams every night, the one that I should be running to right now.
"What are you thinking about?" he looks at me with kind eyes, and I wonder what kind of battered image he sees…I haven't looked in the mirror all days and I don't plan to, don't want to see what remains of the girl who once defeated a god.
"The man, the man I told you about earlier—the one who left."
//I remember the time we met at the in-between place, just a few days after I'd come back. I was alive—which had come as a shock to him—but I was dead and broken at the same time. But while I was with him, nothing had mattered, it didn't matter how I looked—or worse, how my friends looked at me. He treated me the way he always had, gently, but with a fire in his eyes. He held me, told me he loved me, and I wanted to stay frozen in that moment forever…But that seems like long ago, before the I had seen him in the convertible, before the restaurant, before his son…
I had punched a brick wall when I saw them…out at night, walking along the sidewalk, like a perfect family. She was there, holding his hands, laughing. Not the fake laugh she had in high school, but a real happy laugh. He looked happy, he was smiling, and they were pushing a beautiful baby boy in a stroller. Right then I knew that he was his…same chocolate eyes. And that's when I realized it: they were happy. They were happy without me, and who was I to go and try to ruin all that? I hated myself for hating their happiness, hated the truth: I was not a part of their lives anymore.//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
"Anne? Anne? Are you with me?" Logan reaches over and waves his hand in front of my glossed-over eyes. I snap out of the memory. I nod in his general direction. He hesitates, and I know his next question isn't going to be an easy one. He looks at me, then back at the road before he begins. "I know I'm prying here, and if you don't want to tell me, it's okay. I won't ask again, but I have to now—you can tell me if I'm out of line. Who did that to your face?"
I study the blue plastic dashboard before answering, not quite sure how to respond. Suddenly, before I know it, the word's begin to flood out of my mouth…
"I know what your thinking, but it wasn't like that."
"How was it like?"
"He hit me." The words were out before I could stop them, but it was the truth…to some extent—hit was an understatement.
//I went crazy when I saw the bottle of muscle relaxants. I felt betrayed, angry—but most of all I felt stupid. Stupid that I had let myself become this used person, this shell of what I once was. My mistake was carried on as I flew out of the bathroom. It would have been better to have just left quietly. But I wanted revenge. I wanted blood. "What the hell is this?" He was in his pristine living-room watching TV on the 46 inch. You would have never known that such a beautiful apartment would have belonged to such a monster… "Who the fuck do you think you are, trying to play me? What the fuck were you doing?" I threw the bottle at him and jumped on him, beating on his chest and face with my now-useless muscles. I wanted him dead.
"What the fuck is this you bitch?" He threw the popcorn that he had been holding in his lap at my face before his fist went into my stomach. The impact threw me against the floor. He stood up and kicked me like a dog, like I wasn't even human, all the while yelling, "Fucking bitch! Should have known a whore like you would have done this." I swung out my legs, trying to trip him, causing him to stumble slightly. With every ounce of strength I had, I kicked him in the balls.
"FUCK!" He swung at me, and I'm not sure weather it connected or not, but it probably did, because I can't remember anything after that…//
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Logan's head snaps around, and he looks like I've told him that the world is ending. "Who hit you? Is it the man you were talking about?"
I close my eyes, wanting it all to be over. Finally when I open them, I give him the answer he is waiting for. "No. He wouldn't…he isn't…he would never do that. Never. I got involved with someone else, about eight months ago. I thought I was in love—I guess I was a fool. The thing was, Paul was completely different than anyone else I had ever dated—including the man I was telling you about. I thought he was all sunlight and smiles, and then he changed. I warned him that I would kill him if he ever hurt me physically, and I showed him just how strong I was. But he continued to beat me, and I couldn't fight back—for the first time in my life. Last night, I discovered that he was giving me over-the-counter muscle relaxants, and I went crazy. I wanted to kill him, and for a while there I thought I would. He…he hurt me worse then he ever did, and when I was unconscious…"
I woke up to find in a puddle of blood, my clothes in tatters. My pants were down to my knees, my panties were torn, and my shirt was torn, long fingernail marks running through the silk fabric. It suddenly occurred to me—I had been raped. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to die. But I knew that I had to get out of the apartment if I wanted to survive. I looked out the window, relieved to find that Paul's car wasn't there. But he would be back. My brain went on automatic pilot as I went to the bathroom, washed my face and body quickly, and put on a fresh change of clothes and my flip-flops on. As I went threw the house, quickly packing a small bag, all I could think about was my sister, as a baby. How I would carry her around the house, knowing that she was *my* little sister, knowing that I had to set a good example. God, what was I? I was a horrible example…
I'm not sure how I finally made it out of the apartment, but I managed to get a taxi to the outskirts of town, which is were I started walking…
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
"…I think he raped me." I finish, pushing the memory to the back of my brain, were I don't have to think about it. He looks shocked. I barely realize that he's pulled over, and is looking at me with complete shock. He reaches over to grab my hand, but I turn away. I don't want anyone to touch me right now.
"Buffy?" I hear someone calling my name, but it doesn't sound like Logan's voice, and he doesn't even know my real name.
I turn back to him and continue. "When I woke up, I got my things ready, took a shower, and left. I took a taxi as far as I could afford it, and then I walked. After about 8 hours of walking—give or take a few—a man pulled up in an old Aztec and offered me a ride. And here I am, not understanding why I poured out my deepest and darkest moments in life to a complete stranger."
"Buffy, please." I hear the voice again, but Logan's lips aren't even moving. Maybe I'm just going insane.
Logan looks at me seriously, then reaches his hand out again. This time I take it and cling to it like a lifeline. Before I know it, the words are coming again, spilling out so fast that I can't control them, stumbling off my tongue and crashing together in a jumble.
"Look, I just wanted to thank you for listening…I guess I was confused…but just talking to you helped me clarify a lot of things in my life…I…I think you should really try to stay with that girl…might save her life…wish he had done that for me." Then come the tears, and the darkness of the last few months seems to catch up with me, and I feel very alone.
Then, the voice comes again. "Buffy, just come to my voice." But before I know it, it's gone, and Logan is talking again.
"Listen." He pulls me closer to him, his blue eyes sincere. "I think that the man, the one that you were talking about—the one who was the love of your life—probably still loves you. I think you should go to him, and tell him everything you told me. Trust me, Anne, people don't just fall out of love with people, and I'm sure he'll want to take care of you. And if not, you can come with me, and me and Max will take care of you. I know it's a gamble going back to this guy, but if there's one thing you've taught me…is that love is worth the gamble."
*Beep. Beep. Beep.* Suddenly Logan's face seems to dissolve, and the beeping and the voice calling 'Buffy' fills my head, becoming more and more real. I close my eyes, knowing that I've gone completely insane. When I open them again, I am in shock at what I see…
The beeping continues as I look up into the worried and lined face of the man I love, my Angel. He sees me looking at him and I can see him sigh with what looks like relief.
"Oh, Buffy, I've been so worried, your awake, your awake." He starts grinning like an idiot and I think I can see tears running down his cheeks.
Wait a second, what the hell? Where the hell am I? My eyes dart around the surroundings, taking them in. I am in a stiff bead with a pink covered blanket. A device with by my bead with little lines on a monitor beeps continually. An EKG. I'm in a hospital.
"Logan, where are you?" My words are slurred, and I can feel that my mouth and lips are puffy.
Angel looks down at me through his tears, and I can see a rage building up inside of him. "Is that the bastard who did this to you? Oh God, Buffy, if the neighbor hadn't gone in and called 9-11…God, I don't know what I would have done…"
"Angel." I say his name for the first time, and suddenly everything, all the worry and heartache, all the darkness is broken. The darkness is broken. I am here, with the man I love, and suddenly, nothing else matters.
I look up at him, and suddenly Logan's words echo in my ears. 'Love is worth the gamble.' I take that gamble, and say, "Angel, I love you. I just had the weirdest dream…" Then it occurs to me why we can't be together, and I look at his worried and relieved face, saying, "What about Cordelia?"
"God, the time you saw us in the car was a one time thing. She broke up with me the day after, saying she couldn't compete with my love for you. And she was right. I love her as a sister, but Buffy, I love you as much now as I always have. I just… I just can't believe that you wouldn't tell me that this was happening! I mean, if the neighbor hadn't heard the screams, if she hadn't called the police…you were unconscious for eight hours, Buffy! You could have bled to death…" His words trail off, turning into a low growl at the end. The look on his face is one of such protectiveness, of such love…I know we'll make it. Some way, some how, we'll do it. It won't be easy, and it won't be quick, but we'll survive, together.
As for Logan, I don't know how to thank him enough for what he did…for setting my priorities straight, for making me realize just how much I loved my guardian angel. I just hope I'll be able to thank him in my dreams…But I am happy now. The darkness is broken.
The End…For now.
A/N: Okay, I know this had a lot more Buffy than Dark Angel, but I really love Dark Angel, and, depending on how many reviews I get, I plan to write a sequel or epilogue that will probably be completely Dark Angel…so, please take five seconds to review this story…whether you love it or you hate it, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks—Terin(