Chapter Four
Angel stared up at the night sky. It was immense, a furl of black stretching across the horizon and seemed to go on forever. Stars glittered like chips of ice in it, brilliant and cold, uncaring. Still, it had a beauty he couldn't ignore. He hadn't seen a sky this bright since he'd lived in Ireland. He hadn't paid much attention to the sky once Darla had turned him, past whether it was brightening into morning or not. Once he'd regained his soul, he hadn't cared to look up. He was too busy looking down, becoming a wreck of himself. And with Buffy..
The years with Buffy he'd often been too involved in what she was doing to pay attention to the sky. They'd stared at the moon, like lovers do, usually as a prelude to kissing but they'd never actually looked at the sky. Then, in L.A., the light pollution would've blotted out many of the points of light he now saw.
"What're you doing out here, Angel?"
He looked back at Dawn, come from the diner. Her long hair was up in two braids and her eyes were still heavy with sleep. He smiled at her and gestured up.
"Oh." She tilted her head back, looking. Dawn turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. "It's so big."
"Enormous," Angel said in agreement. "What're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be eating your dinner?"
Dawn shrugged self-consciously. "Wasn't very hungry. Spike's buying me some chips though."
"Chips aren't very nutritious," Angel said.
Rolling her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitched. "Thanks for the reminder, Dad." Dawn took his hand and swung it a little. "Buffy would've hated it here."
"You think?"
"Oh, please. Do you see a Starbucks or a mall anywhere for a hundred miles?" Dawn pointed in either direction along the road.
"Yeah but think how far she'd be able to see a vampire coming," Angel said.
Dawn stared up at him. "Did you just make a joke?" She wrinkled her nose. "It wasn't a good one."
"I know."
"But it was good that you made it." She hugged his arm briefly and tilted her head back up towards the sky.
They both stared at it for a time, only the faint sounds of vehicles and people coming from the truck stop interrupting the silence. "Angel?"
"Yes, Dawn?"
"Do you think it hurt?" Her voice sounded little and lost.
"I don't know, Dawn. I'd like to think it didn't." Angel turned to face her, taking her hands in his.
Dawn looked at their joined hands for a little bit then asked, hesitantly, "What about when Buffy sent you away?" Dawn lifted her face to look at him, her eyes full of questions and guilt.
He didn't want to lie to her. It had hurt, it had hurt to see the woman he loved with her face crumpling, unable to help him, her hands releasing the sword she'd used to send him to hell. "It hurt more because I drove Buffy to do it," Angel said. "I almost remembered all the things I'd done as Angelus. The fact that I'd forced her hand that way, that hurt worse than anything."
"So it did hurt?" Dawn just picked up on the one word.
"Yeah. But more emotionally than physically. I knew something bad had happened, if Buffy would be willing to stab me, Dawn. That's what hurt, that I could almost remember."
"What was hell like?" She searched his face, her hands cold in his.
"Painful." Angel closed his mouth, trying to blot out those images and memories, of the torment he went through during those five hundred years.
When he didn't continue, Dawn said, "Oh." She ducked her head, pulling her hands free to play with the end of one of her braids. "I dreamed about her earlier," she said softly. She turned away from him. "I dreamed she came to me and she was all broken. She cried because she was in so much pain." Dawn's hands dropped to her side, forming fists. Her voice tightened and quivered when she said, "I killed her Angel. It was my fault."
Angel wanted to go to her but knew she wouldn't accept the comfort of his touch right now. "Dawn, you know better. Don't blame yourself. There wasn't anything you could do to stop her."
The girl whirled on him, furious now. "I could've, Angel. I could've jumped. I could've stopped the rift. It was my blood, too, my blood that opened it." She raised her fists and pounded on him. "Me! Why'd they make me a girl? Why'd they make me Buffy's sister, so I could watch Mom die? So I could watch Buffy die?" Her wail carried back to the diner. Angel noticed a few people in the parking lot staring at them. He ignored them to catch Dawn's wrists.
"They made you human so Buffy could protect you, Dawn," Angel said softly, speaking just to her, forcing her to stop sobbing so she would hear him. "So she could love you. And she did love you, very much. All of us do." He bent over, so he could look her directly in the eyes. "Dawn, the monks did what they thought was best. And Buffy did what she thought was best, too. I don't think she made the wrong decision, I think she made the only decision she could. She wasn't going to let you die, Dawn. She'd had enough and she needed you to live."
"Why?" Dawn asked, her voice breaking in five different directions.
"So we'd have you. Don't you know, Dawn? You're everything your mother was and Buffy, too. I don't hate her for jumping into the rift, Dawn. She did it to save you and I'm proud of her for doing it. It makes me love her all that much more."
"But you'll never get to tell her that," Dawn whispered. She smeared the tears across her face angrily.
"I can tell you, though." At her furious look, Angel shook his head gently. "Dawn, your blood is Joyce's blood. It's Buffy's blood. And a part of them lives in you now. And a part of that blood remembers."
She sniffed, her face screwed up in an effort to not cry again. Angel fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and gave it to her.
"Hey, little girl? You okay?"
Dawn half-turned, seeing a burly man standing there, his hands open but his stance showed Angel that the man would rush him if he thought Dawn was in any trouble. She looked at the man dully. "I'm okay," she said, "thanks." She fumbled behind her and Angel slid his hand into hers, letting her latch onto it and squeeze tight.
"You sure?" The man scowled at them both, his expression wary.
She looked back at Angel and relaxed her grip, just a little. "He's my brother. He'd never let anything happen to me."
"Oh." The man studied them and nodded abruptly. "You sure, now?"
"Yes. Thank you for asking," Dawn said.
"You're welcome, darlin'," the man said, walking away. They watched as he hauled himself into the cab of an eighteen-wheeler, starting the engine. It rumbled to life and slowly, the rig pulled out onto the asphalt. The driver watched them as he eased the truck past. Dawn lifted her hand and waved. Angel met the driver's eyes and nodded. The driver gave him a slight grin and the trailer rolled past them.
"Brother?" Angel asked her, when the noise died down again.
"Yeah. I thought if I said friend, he might take it the wrong way. You know, like Wesley said. Brothers and sisters fight all the time, right? At least, I know sisters do." She sighed heavily.
"Do you want to go into the diner?" Angel asked her gently, when she didn't say any more.
"No. I want to look at the stars." Dawn folded her arms around herself.
Angel slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. Dawn glanced back at him, surprised. "You look cold," he said.
"You aren't going anywhere are you, Angel?" Dawn asked, a little apprehensively.
"Not while you need me, Dawn."
"Good." She leaned against him then, resting the back of her head on his chest. "Good."
Angel laid his hands on her shoulders and together they stared at the night sky.
Angel stared up at the night sky. It was immense, a furl of black stretching across the horizon and seemed to go on forever. Stars glittered like chips of ice in it, brilliant and cold, uncaring. Still, it had a beauty he couldn't ignore. He hadn't seen a sky this bright since he'd lived in Ireland. He hadn't paid much attention to the sky once Darla had turned him, past whether it was brightening into morning or not. Once he'd regained his soul, he hadn't cared to look up. He was too busy looking down, becoming a wreck of himself. And with Buffy..
The years with Buffy he'd often been too involved in what she was doing to pay attention to the sky. They'd stared at the moon, like lovers do, usually as a prelude to kissing but they'd never actually looked at the sky. Then, in L.A., the light pollution would've blotted out many of the points of light he now saw.
"What're you doing out here, Angel?"
He looked back at Dawn, come from the diner. Her long hair was up in two braids and her eyes were still heavy with sleep. He smiled at her and gestured up.
"Oh." She tilted her head back, looking. Dawn turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. "It's so big."
"Enormous," Angel said in agreement. "What're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be eating your dinner?"
Dawn shrugged self-consciously. "Wasn't very hungry. Spike's buying me some chips though."
"Chips aren't very nutritious," Angel said.
Rolling her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitched. "Thanks for the reminder, Dad." Dawn took his hand and swung it a little. "Buffy would've hated it here."
"You think?"
"Oh, please. Do you see a Starbucks or a mall anywhere for a hundred miles?" Dawn pointed in either direction along the road.
"Yeah but think how far she'd be able to see a vampire coming," Angel said.
Dawn stared up at him. "Did you just make a joke?" She wrinkled her nose. "It wasn't a good one."
"I know."
"But it was good that you made it." She hugged his arm briefly and tilted her head back up towards the sky.
They both stared at it for a time, only the faint sounds of vehicles and people coming from the truck stop interrupting the silence. "Angel?"
"Yes, Dawn?"
"Do you think it hurt?" Her voice sounded little and lost.
"I don't know, Dawn. I'd like to think it didn't." Angel turned to face her, taking her hands in his.
Dawn looked at their joined hands for a little bit then asked, hesitantly, "What about when Buffy sent you away?" Dawn lifted her face to look at him, her eyes full of questions and guilt.
He didn't want to lie to her. It had hurt, it had hurt to see the woman he loved with her face crumpling, unable to help him, her hands releasing the sword she'd used to send him to hell. "It hurt more because I drove Buffy to do it," Angel said. "I almost remembered all the things I'd done as Angelus. The fact that I'd forced her hand that way, that hurt worse than anything."
"So it did hurt?" Dawn just picked up on the one word.
"Yeah. But more emotionally than physically. I knew something bad had happened, if Buffy would be willing to stab me, Dawn. That's what hurt, that I could almost remember."
"What was hell like?" She searched his face, her hands cold in his.
"Painful." Angel closed his mouth, trying to blot out those images and memories, of the torment he went through during those five hundred years.
When he didn't continue, Dawn said, "Oh." She ducked her head, pulling her hands free to play with the end of one of her braids. "I dreamed about her earlier," she said softly. She turned away from him. "I dreamed she came to me and she was all broken. She cried because she was in so much pain." Dawn's hands dropped to her side, forming fists. Her voice tightened and quivered when she said, "I killed her Angel. It was my fault."
Angel wanted to go to her but knew she wouldn't accept the comfort of his touch right now. "Dawn, you know better. Don't blame yourself. There wasn't anything you could do to stop her."
The girl whirled on him, furious now. "I could've, Angel. I could've jumped. I could've stopped the rift. It was my blood, too, my blood that opened it." She raised her fists and pounded on him. "Me! Why'd they make me a girl? Why'd they make me Buffy's sister, so I could watch Mom die? So I could watch Buffy die?" Her wail carried back to the diner. Angel noticed a few people in the parking lot staring at them. He ignored them to catch Dawn's wrists.
"They made you human so Buffy could protect you, Dawn," Angel said softly, speaking just to her, forcing her to stop sobbing so she would hear him. "So she could love you. And she did love you, very much. All of us do." He bent over, so he could look her directly in the eyes. "Dawn, the monks did what they thought was best. And Buffy did what she thought was best, too. I don't think she made the wrong decision, I think she made the only decision she could. She wasn't going to let you die, Dawn. She'd had enough and she needed you to live."
"Why?" Dawn asked, her voice breaking in five different directions.
"So we'd have you. Don't you know, Dawn? You're everything your mother was and Buffy, too. I don't hate her for jumping into the rift, Dawn. She did it to save you and I'm proud of her for doing it. It makes me love her all that much more."
"But you'll never get to tell her that," Dawn whispered. She smeared the tears across her face angrily.
"I can tell you, though." At her furious look, Angel shook his head gently. "Dawn, your blood is Joyce's blood. It's Buffy's blood. And a part of them lives in you now. And a part of that blood remembers."
She sniffed, her face screwed up in an effort to not cry again. Angel fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and gave it to her.
"Hey, little girl? You okay?"
Dawn half-turned, seeing a burly man standing there, his hands open but his stance showed Angel that the man would rush him if he thought Dawn was in any trouble. She looked at the man dully. "I'm okay," she said, "thanks." She fumbled behind her and Angel slid his hand into hers, letting her latch onto it and squeeze tight.
"You sure?" The man scowled at them both, his expression wary.
She looked back at Angel and relaxed her grip, just a little. "He's my brother. He'd never let anything happen to me."
"Oh." The man studied them and nodded abruptly. "You sure, now?"
"Yes. Thank you for asking," Dawn said.
"You're welcome, darlin'," the man said, walking away. They watched as he hauled himself into the cab of an eighteen-wheeler, starting the engine. It rumbled to life and slowly, the rig pulled out onto the asphalt. The driver watched them as he eased the truck past. Dawn lifted her hand and waved. Angel met the driver's eyes and nodded. The driver gave him a slight grin and the trailer rolled past them.
"Brother?" Angel asked her, when the noise died down again.
"Yeah. I thought if I said friend, he might take it the wrong way. You know, like Wesley said. Brothers and sisters fight all the time, right? At least, I know sisters do." She sighed heavily.
"Do you want to go into the diner?" Angel asked her gently, when she didn't say any more.
"No. I want to look at the stars." Dawn folded her arms around herself.
Angel slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. Dawn glanced back at him, surprised. "You look cold," he said.
"You aren't going anywhere are you, Angel?" Dawn asked, a little apprehensively.
"Not while you need me, Dawn."
"Good." She leaned against him then, resting the back of her head on his chest. "Good."
Angel laid his hands on her shoulders and together they stared at the night sky.
