Title: Switch In Identities
Chapter Title: Mystery Girl #1
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but the story is.
Summary: Angel has a strange dream, calls up his Watcher, and goes out on patrol.
Dedication: To . . . George Harrison, who will always be remembered. Always. After all, music is immortal as love.
Excerpt:
~Angel: Can you at least tell me your name?
~Buffy: Buffy . . . Just . . . Buffy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Who are you?" Angel found himself asking as the figure of a woman in a light pink and cream 18th century attire walked ahead of him, bathed in pure sunlight that didn't even exist.
She looked at him, her head tilted to the side.
Angel flinched at the brightness and tried to adjust his vision to see her more clearly, but failed miserably.
She giggled lightly and opened her umbrella made of silk and lace before. She swung and twirled it around playfully as she endlessly walked ahead of him, and as he continued to follow her like a lost puppy.
"I'm . . . I'm serious," Angel said lamely as she repeatedly laughed and floated without a care in the world.
She stopped and sighed, carefully closing her fragile umbrella that had become unusually tattered. "You always are," she said irritably, and he felt her pout through the blinding light she was made of.
She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and for the first time in Angel's life, he recognized the place he belonged . . . She rested her head against his cheek and whispered lightly, "I'm the love of your life . . . the only one," she said.
Angel closed his eyes dreamily before pulling her closer to his body. "Who are you?" he asked again.
Her reply was a sudden fierce scream that caused him to cover his ears as everything around him turned dark and deadly. He looked around for her, but she had disappeared, and panic ceased his heart.
A thunder echoed steadily above him as the scream continued on, the sound of pain and suffering slicing through the thick and humid air.
The sky turned red, and he was suddenly surrounded in piles of bleached bones.
The clouds began to bleed red droplets of grief, and Angel fell helplessly to his knees. He stared at his hands, covered in blood before staring up at the face the Master, smirking harshly at him.
"Her life . . . for yours," the vampire sneered.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel sat up form his bed, sweat beading his forehead as he continued panting. He stared at his clock: 3:21 in the morning it glared in a bright red color.
He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes wearily.
Since meeting that mysterious girl a week before, he'd been having the strangest dreams practically every night now. He hadn't bothered to tell his watcher since he figured it must be because he had become quite infatuated with the unknown young woman; whoever she may be.
But with this latest dream . . . maybe he should.
He picked up the phone on his nightstand and dialed a number, continuing to rub his eyes and hopefully erase the image of the Master's disgusting face from his mind.
"Hello?" a groggy voice asked through the phone.
"I had a dream," Angel stated calmly, turning on his lamp.
"That all men were created equal," a British voice yawned.
"Who is that?" a woman's voice asked.
"It's Angel," the Brit answered before the woman groaned and probably went back to sleep.
"Bloody hell, Angel. What's this all about?"
"I've been having these strange dream for the past week and a half," Angel confessed, "I met this girl . . . "
"Oh, God . . . "
"Wesley!" Angel growled, "I'm serious."
"You always are."
"That's the same thing she said in my dream."
"Well she's right," Wesley sighed.
"Can we get back on topic?" Angel said warningly.
"Sorry," the older man said without guilt.
"She was strong," Angel reminisced the sight of such a small girl holding onto so much power. "She saved Cordy and Gunn from a gang of vampires. A girl, Wesley, a girl," he insinuated.
Wesley frowned. "I've never heard of female Demon Hunters before," he murmured. "Did she leave her name?"
"No," Angel answered simply, holding up the silver cross the girl had given to him. "She said I wasn't supposed to know."
"Hmmm . . . " Wesley was silent before asking, "How about the dreams?"
Angel sighed and let the necklace fall against his chest. "They're almost the same all the time," he described, "It's always a girl, the same girl, dressed in dresses from early 1700's. I can never see her face, she's always surrounded by light." Angel laid back down on his bed and stared up at his blank ceiling. "She's always saying phrases . . . they sound more like riddles. I don't remember them," he said, "And in the end, she disappears and I'm left in the dark."
"What was different tonight?"
"She screamed," Angel said, remembering the sound of the chilling voice, "The sky started raining blood and I was covered by it . . . " he chocked, but swallowed the gulp that was stuck in his throat, "The Master appeared . . . he said . . . he said 'Her life . . . for yours.' "
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel walked down the streets of LA. The bums and the homeless scattered the streets, sitting quietly in their corners by the trashcans and alleys. The hookers and prostitutes paraded in front of the cheap stores and shops, fluffing their feathers and smoking cigarettes.
"Hey, honey . . . you lookin' for a tumble tonight?" a woman asked, her face plastered with pounds of makeup and dressed in shiny tacky vinyl.
Angel shook his head and noticed the sound of police sirens in the distance. "No thanks," he said coldly before moving on.
"Jackass," he heard the woman mutter before she headed off towards a car that had stopped in front of her.
Gotta love the streets of LA.
After saying good-bye to Wesley, an apology to Virginia, Angel decided that a quick patrol would do some good for his nerves.
Wesley had promised that they would head towards the hotel to do some research.
In other words . . . things couldn't be figured at the very moment.
The sound of fighting reached his ears, and without a second thought to the cheap, and possibly disease contained prostitute, he ran towards the fight.
"You had everything, Elizabeth!" a demon growled as Angel watched in fascination as the same girl from a week ago take on three large demons in an empty alley.
"Everything?" she laughed, "How 'bout that pony I've always wanted for my birthday? I never got that," she complained.
One demon dropped to the dingy ground before melting away in a puddle.
"You were to become queen," another howled as she kicked him towards the brick wall. He soon dissolved in a puddle as well.
The last demon charged at her, knocking her down with enough force that sent sliding across the alley way. She got on her knees and stared at the demon without fear in her eyes or stature.
"You are nothing now," the demon chuckled, "Just a walking, talking . . . nothing . . . "
He melted into blue goo before he could finish.
The young woman looked up and stared at Angel, who stood there with a sword and a frown.
"We should stop meeting like this," he commented.
"I agree," she said, getting up on her feet gracefully.
Silence.
"Can you at least tell me your name?" Angel asked, not wanting this girl to leave . . . and at the same time not wanting her to know.
"Buffy . . . " she answered hesitantly, "Just . . . Buffy."
"Buffy? Didn't that demon just call you Elizabeth?"
"Well if you already heard . . . why ask?" Buffy countered back with a hint of amusement.
Angel was caught off guard by that question as his mind raced to find an answer.
Buffy chuckled lightly, the same laugh of the girl in his dreams . . . quite literally. "Elizabeth was a girl from long ago. People and demons alike mistake me for her . . . but she died," she said, and left it at that.
"Buffy . . . strange name," he said.
She shrugged. "I'm a strange person."
Silence.
"Can I walk you home?" Angel offered, not wanting to just leave it at this.
But Buffy shook her head. "What I told you before . . . how I couldn't be near you for reasons that has to be left unsaid . . . well . . . that hasn't changed. The two of us have to accept it," she said, and turned to walk away.
But before she could take another step, she collapsed on the ground.
Continued . . .
Chapter Title: Mystery Girl #1
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but the story is.
Summary: Angel has a strange dream, calls up his Watcher, and goes out on patrol.
Dedication: To . . . George Harrison, who will always be remembered. Always. After all, music is immortal as love.
Excerpt:
~Angel: Can you at least tell me your name?
~Buffy: Buffy . . . Just . . . Buffy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Who are you?" Angel found himself asking as the figure of a woman in a light pink and cream 18th century attire walked ahead of him, bathed in pure sunlight that didn't even exist.
She looked at him, her head tilted to the side.
Angel flinched at the brightness and tried to adjust his vision to see her more clearly, but failed miserably.
She giggled lightly and opened her umbrella made of silk and lace before. She swung and twirled it around playfully as she endlessly walked ahead of him, and as he continued to follow her like a lost puppy.
"I'm . . . I'm serious," Angel said lamely as she repeatedly laughed and floated without a care in the world.
She stopped and sighed, carefully closing her fragile umbrella that had become unusually tattered. "You always are," she said irritably, and he felt her pout through the blinding light she was made of.
She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and for the first time in Angel's life, he recognized the place he belonged . . . She rested her head against his cheek and whispered lightly, "I'm the love of your life . . . the only one," she said.
Angel closed his eyes dreamily before pulling her closer to his body. "Who are you?" he asked again.
Her reply was a sudden fierce scream that caused him to cover his ears as everything around him turned dark and deadly. He looked around for her, but she had disappeared, and panic ceased his heart.
A thunder echoed steadily above him as the scream continued on, the sound of pain and suffering slicing through the thick and humid air.
The sky turned red, and he was suddenly surrounded in piles of bleached bones.
The clouds began to bleed red droplets of grief, and Angel fell helplessly to his knees. He stared at his hands, covered in blood before staring up at the face the Master, smirking harshly at him.
"Her life . . . for yours," the vampire sneered.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel sat up form his bed, sweat beading his forehead as he continued panting. He stared at his clock: 3:21 in the morning it glared in a bright red color.
He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes wearily.
Since meeting that mysterious girl a week before, he'd been having the strangest dreams practically every night now. He hadn't bothered to tell his watcher since he figured it must be because he had become quite infatuated with the unknown young woman; whoever she may be.
But with this latest dream . . . maybe he should.
He picked up the phone on his nightstand and dialed a number, continuing to rub his eyes and hopefully erase the image of the Master's disgusting face from his mind.
"Hello?" a groggy voice asked through the phone.
"I had a dream," Angel stated calmly, turning on his lamp.
"That all men were created equal," a British voice yawned.
"Who is that?" a woman's voice asked.
"It's Angel," the Brit answered before the woman groaned and probably went back to sleep.
"Bloody hell, Angel. What's this all about?"
"I've been having these strange dream for the past week and a half," Angel confessed, "I met this girl . . . "
"Oh, God . . . "
"Wesley!" Angel growled, "I'm serious."
"You always are."
"That's the same thing she said in my dream."
"Well she's right," Wesley sighed.
"Can we get back on topic?" Angel said warningly.
"Sorry," the older man said without guilt.
"She was strong," Angel reminisced the sight of such a small girl holding onto so much power. "She saved Cordy and Gunn from a gang of vampires. A girl, Wesley, a girl," he insinuated.
Wesley frowned. "I've never heard of female Demon Hunters before," he murmured. "Did she leave her name?"
"No," Angel answered simply, holding up the silver cross the girl had given to him. "She said I wasn't supposed to know."
"Hmmm . . . " Wesley was silent before asking, "How about the dreams?"
Angel sighed and let the necklace fall against his chest. "They're almost the same all the time," he described, "It's always a girl, the same girl, dressed in dresses from early 1700's. I can never see her face, she's always surrounded by light." Angel laid back down on his bed and stared up at his blank ceiling. "She's always saying phrases . . . they sound more like riddles. I don't remember them," he said, "And in the end, she disappears and I'm left in the dark."
"What was different tonight?"
"She screamed," Angel said, remembering the sound of the chilling voice, "The sky started raining blood and I was covered by it . . . " he chocked, but swallowed the gulp that was stuck in his throat, "The Master appeared . . . he said . . . he said 'Her life . . . for yours.' "
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel walked down the streets of LA. The bums and the homeless scattered the streets, sitting quietly in their corners by the trashcans and alleys. The hookers and prostitutes paraded in front of the cheap stores and shops, fluffing their feathers and smoking cigarettes.
"Hey, honey . . . you lookin' for a tumble tonight?" a woman asked, her face plastered with pounds of makeup and dressed in shiny tacky vinyl.
Angel shook his head and noticed the sound of police sirens in the distance. "No thanks," he said coldly before moving on.
"Jackass," he heard the woman mutter before she headed off towards a car that had stopped in front of her.
Gotta love the streets of LA.
After saying good-bye to Wesley, an apology to Virginia, Angel decided that a quick patrol would do some good for his nerves.
Wesley had promised that they would head towards the hotel to do some research.
In other words . . . things couldn't be figured at the very moment.
The sound of fighting reached his ears, and without a second thought to the cheap, and possibly disease contained prostitute, he ran towards the fight.
"You had everything, Elizabeth!" a demon growled as Angel watched in fascination as the same girl from a week ago take on three large demons in an empty alley.
"Everything?" she laughed, "How 'bout that pony I've always wanted for my birthday? I never got that," she complained.
One demon dropped to the dingy ground before melting away in a puddle.
"You were to become queen," another howled as she kicked him towards the brick wall. He soon dissolved in a puddle as well.
The last demon charged at her, knocking her down with enough force that sent sliding across the alley way. She got on her knees and stared at the demon without fear in her eyes or stature.
"You are nothing now," the demon chuckled, "Just a walking, talking . . . nothing . . . "
He melted into blue goo before he could finish.
The young woman looked up and stared at Angel, who stood there with a sword and a frown.
"We should stop meeting like this," he commented.
"I agree," she said, getting up on her feet gracefully.
Silence.
"Can you at least tell me your name?" Angel asked, not wanting this girl to leave . . . and at the same time not wanting her to know.
"Buffy . . . " she answered hesitantly, "Just . . . Buffy."
"Buffy? Didn't that demon just call you Elizabeth?"
"Well if you already heard . . . why ask?" Buffy countered back with a hint of amusement.
Angel was caught off guard by that question as his mind raced to find an answer.
Buffy chuckled lightly, the same laugh of the girl in his dreams . . . quite literally. "Elizabeth was a girl from long ago. People and demons alike mistake me for her . . . but she died," she said, and left it at that.
"Buffy . . . strange name," he said.
She shrugged. "I'm a strange person."
Silence.
"Can I walk you home?" Angel offered, not wanting to just leave it at this.
But Buffy shook her head. "What I told you before . . . how I couldn't be near you for reasons that has to be left unsaid . . . well . . . that hasn't changed. The two of us have to accept it," she said, and turned to walk away.
But before she could take another step, she collapsed on the ground.
Continued . . .