Chapter 9
Angel laid Buffy down gingerly on his bed, stroking her hair away from her face. He wanted so much to take away her pain, or at least to share in it, lessen it.
"She'll be okay. We'll find something, Angel. I know we will." Willow's voice was sympathetic and oddly reassuring. Angel wished he could believe the words it sounded, but, from anyone else, the words would sound hollow, meaningless, and that knowledge made the 243-year-old vampire unable to trust their truth. Maybe he was scared of getting his hopes up falsely, or maybe his despair was so deep that he had lost all ability to hope, he didn't know. But he did know one thing: Buffy was special, not just as the Slayer, but as a person.
Angel turned to Giles, suddenly frustrated that they had not discovered what caused Buffy's pain. Overcome with emotions - fear, rage, love and sheer panic among the most prominent - he had no idea what to do.
"We need to find out who or what is doing this to her!" His voice was raw. "Giles, if we don't, Buffy could die, and I'm not ready for that!" He choked back a sob and struggled to regain control of his emotions. Giles was unable to reply, swamped by many of the same feelings, so Willow was the voice of reason.
"Calm down, Angel. I know you're worried about Buffy; we all are. But we need to think calmly, or we'll never get anywhere." She paused and took a deep breath, not used to being the one in control. "Now, I'm gonna go on the 'net, see what I can find out. I suggest the rest of you go back to the library, do some research. Angel, we'll all understand if you want to stay here with Buffy."
"Thanks. I want to be here if she wakes up. I know that's not likely at the moment, but. Besides, the sun'll be up soon. Call if you need me."
With that, the others followed Angel to the door, his 18th Century manners still flawlessly intact through anything that might happen.
"Good luck," he murmured to their retreating backs.
* * * * * * "Is Buffy in some kind of trouble?" Joyce asked the strange girl on her doorstep.
"Look, I need to speak with your daughter. Where is she?"
"I'm not sure precisely where she is at the moment, and I'm afraid you can't come in and wait for her."
"I'm not a vampire; however, I do want to stop some. A pair called Spike and Drusilla. I need to find your daughter."
"You don't even know her name, do you? Get lost. You don't know Buffy, and I don't suppose she wants you in her life!" Joyce slammed the door shut.
* * * * * * Angel perched lightly on the edge of his bed and stroked Buffy's hair. He blamed himself for her pain. He should have known, should have stopped it. Maybe she wouldn't be in so much of it if he'd left earlier, when Joyce had told him to. He could never give her children, never marry her lawfully, could not even walk with her in the sunlight, and he hated himself for it. She deserved more; she deserved a man who could share her days with her, make love to her, spend his life with her. He could never give Buffy anything she deserved, and it was unfair to her for him to keep her from these things. He should just go.
Filled with a sudden grim resolve to give Buffy what he owed her, he stood and started for the door. He pulled it wide open, before staggering back with a cry as the sunlight hit his skin sharply. Smoking, he swiftly pushed the door to.
Buffy groaned. If Angel's heart had been beating, it would have leaped. He strode briskly across the room and returned to his perch on the bed, cupping his beloved's cheek with the palm of his hand.
"It's gonna be alright, Buffy," he murmured. "The guys'll find something." With that, he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Buffy moaned deep in her throat and responded slightly. Worried she might exhaust herself, Angel pulled back gently. He couldn't remember ever wanting to be with someone this much, not in any of the two and a half centuries he'd been alive; not even Darla had captured his heart and soul the way Buffy did. Of course, she couldn't have captured his soul, but he still never would have broken the First Rule of Vampirehood for Darla. Killing his sire for Buffy had been easy, and he'd do it again readily, but he couldn't imagine it would be the same if it was for someone else.
Buffy's eyelids quivered, and her eyes fluttered open. Gazing down at her, Angel smiled, wondering how he could ever have contemplated leaving her, and praying to whatever gods would listen that she would survive.
* * * * * * Joyce sat limply at the kitchen table, fretting for her daughter's safety and pressing tissues to her eyes in an effort to slow the tears.
Angel laid Buffy down gingerly on his bed, stroking her hair away from her face. He wanted so much to take away her pain, or at least to share in it, lessen it.
"She'll be okay. We'll find something, Angel. I know we will." Willow's voice was sympathetic and oddly reassuring. Angel wished he could believe the words it sounded, but, from anyone else, the words would sound hollow, meaningless, and that knowledge made the 243-year-old vampire unable to trust their truth. Maybe he was scared of getting his hopes up falsely, or maybe his despair was so deep that he had lost all ability to hope, he didn't know. But he did know one thing: Buffy was special, not just as the Slayer, but as a person.
Angel turned to Giles, suddenly frustrated that they had not discovered what caused Buffy's pain. Overcome with emotions - fear, rage, love and sheer panic among the most prominent - he had no idea what to do.
"We need to find out who or what is doing this to her!" His voice was raw. "Giles, if we don't, Buffy could die, and I'm not ready for that!" He choked back a sob and struggled to regain control of his emotions. Giles was unable to reply, swamped by many of the same feelings, so Willow was the voice of reason.
"Calm down, Angel. I know you're worried about Buffy; we all are. But we need to think calmly, or we'll never get anywhere." She paused and took a deep breath, not used to being the one in control. "Now, I'm gonna go on the 'net, see what I can find out. I suggest the rest of you go back to the library, do some research. Angel, we'll all understand if you want to stay here with Buffy."
"Thanks. I want to be here if she wakes up. I know that's not likely at the moment, but. Besides, the sun'll be up soon. Call if you need me."
With that, the others followed Angel to the door, his 18th Century manners still flawlessly intact through anything that might happen.
"Good luck," he murmured to their retreating backs.
* * * * * * "Is Buffy in some kind of trouble?" Joyce asked the strange girl on her doorstep.
"Look, I need to speak with your daughter. Where is she?"
"I'm not sure precisely where she is at the moment, and I'm afraid you can't come in and wait for her."
"I'm not a vampire; however, I do want to stop some. A pair called Spike and Drusilla. I need to find your daughter."
"You don't even know her name, do you? Get lost. You don't know Buffy, and I don't suppose she wants you in her life!" Joyce slammed the door shut.
* * * * * * Angel perched lightly on the edge of his bed and stroked Buffy's hair. He blamed himself for her pain. He should have known, should have stopped it. Maybe she wouldn't be in so much of it if he'd left earlier, when Joyce had told him to. He could never give her children, never marry her lawfully, could not even walk with her in the sunlight, and he hated himself for it. She deserved more; she deserved a man who could share her days with her, make love to her, spend his life with her. He could never give Buffy anything she deserved, and it was unfair to her for him to keep her from these things. He should just go.
Filled with a sudden grim resolve to give Buffy what he owed her, he stood and started for the door. He pulled it wide open, before staggering back with a cry as the sunlight hit his skin sharply. Smoking, he swiftly pushed the door to.
Buffy groaned. If Angel's heart had been beating, it would have leaped. He strode briskly across the room and returned to his perch on the bed, cupping his beloved's cheek with the palm of his hand.
"It's gonna be alright, Buffy," he murmured. "The guys'll find something." With that, he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Buffy moaned deep in her throat and responded slightly. Worried she might exhaust herself, Angel pulled back gently. He couldn't remember ever wanting to be with someone this much, not in any of the two and a half centuries he'd been alive; not even Darla had captured his heart and soul the way Buffy did. Of course, she couldn't have captured his soul, but he still never would have broken the First Rule of Vampirehood for Darla. Killing his sire for Buffy had been easy, and he'd do it again readily, but he couldn't imagine it would be the same if it was for someone else.
Buffy's eyelids quivered, and her eyes fluttered open. Gazing down at her, Angel smiled, wondering how he could ever have contemplated leaving her, and praying to whatever gods would listen that she would survive.
* * * * * * Joyce sat limply at the kitchen table, fretting for her daughter's safety and pressing tissues to her eyes in an effort to slow the tears.