Chapter 25- Coming Back
A/N I apologize for all the Angel chapters in a row. I just think it works better from his point of view, for the moment. I promise you'll get some Buffy pov soon.
-Angel-
She's been back for three days and she won't eat. She doesn't talk about it. She sits on the bed in silence or she sleeps. I spend most of my time in the room with her, reading. I sleep, but not much. I'm afraid she's going to wake up and need me. Logic tells me I'll wake up, I'm a light sleeper. I don't trust logic, not when it comes to Buffy. I've let everyone know that Willow's spell worked and promise I'll keep them informed. No one calls to check on her. I know they are uncomfortable and I understand why. It still makes me furious.
I warm up a glass of blood and take it into the bedroom. I set it on the nightstand.
"Buffy, you've got to eat. The longer you go without eating the worse it's going to hurt." I sit down on the edge of the bed. She doesn't look at me.
"It should hurt. I deserve to hurt." Her voice is raspy from crying.
I can't argue with her, not right now. She wouldn't believe me. "Buffy, this isn't the way to inflict pain on yourself. It will only make things worse. The longer you go without food, the harder the demon gets to control." I scoot over closer to her and pull her into my arms. She doesn't resist, but she doesn't respond either. I open the vein on my wrist and hold it to her mouth. At first I think she's going to resist that also, but finally she starts drinking. She lays her head against my chest when she's finished and cries herself to sleep. I slip out from underneath her and go into the main room.
I feel so damn helpless, so useless. I can't make her pain any less, I can't fix anything. I drive my fist into the stone of the fireplace. A tiny crack appears. I punch it again and again, at some point tears spill down my face. The stone façade crumbles. I reduce an entire section to little more then dust before collapsing on the floor. I pull my ruined hands over my head and sob.
I wake up on the rug in front of the fireplace. The fire has burned down to embers. The smell of blood hangs in the air. I glance down at my hands. They are caked with blood but most of the wounds have already begun to heal. This is the smell of fresh, wet blood. I roll up to my feet and walk over to the closed bedroom door. I twist the door handle. It's been locked, or something heavy has been shoved against it.
"Buffy, let me in." I pound on the door but get no response. "Come on, Buffy, don't do this to me." When there is still no response I ram into the door with my shoulder. It gives a little. I do it again, finally busting through and pushing aside the wardrobe Buffy had moved in front of the door.
She's standing next to the bed. She looks like a statue of the Virgin Mary I remember seeing in church when I was a child. She is pale, so pale she almost glows like marble. Tears glisten down her cheeks. The pain and horror in her eyes is tangible. She's wearing a white tee top and a pair of pajama bottoms with flying pigs or something on them. She's standing barefoot in a pool of blood. She holds an ornate dagger in her left hand. She has cut her wrists to the bone.
"I've got to get it all out, Angel, all the blood. I can feel it itching inside of me. I can hear them screaming. I've got to get all their blood out of me." Her voice is distant. She reminds me eerily of Drusilla.
I can't think. All I can see is my Buffy standing in so much blood. I know it won't kill her, but that doesn't make my panic for her well being go away. I grab the first aid kit out of the bathroom and gather her in my arms. I take her away from all this blood to the main room and lay her on the couch. Patiently, carefully, through tear veiled eyes I apply antibiotic cream, even though logically I know vampires don't get infections. I wrap her fragile wrists in layers and layers of white gauze.
"Buffy, you have to promise never to do something like that again." I hold both of her wrists in my hand, careful not to jostle them or cause her anymore pain.
"Why? I won't die. I'll never die, but all those people did. They died because of me. I killed them."
"You didn't kill them, Buffy. A demon killed them, a demon that wore your face and your hands and has your memories, but it was not you. You don't have it in you to kill a person." I place a gentle kiss on each of her wrists.
"I had to get their blood out, Angel. It was boiling and itching and I couldn't take it anymore." Her voice is so tiny, so distant; I don't if I would even hear if it weren't for my keen hearing. No that's wrong, I would always hear Buffy, even in Hell I heard her. I felt her tears and her pain and it was worse then anything the demons there could have devised for me.
I pick her up and settle her on my lap. I kiss the crown of her head and nestle her closer to me. I wrap my arms around her and wish I could keep her in the shelter of my body for the rest of eternity.
"How can you even touch me? I killed all those people, lots of them just for fun." She asks.
"Buffy, there is nothing you can ever do that will make me stop touching you, or wanting you, or loving you. I know it seems like you did those things. I know what it's like to be able to remember your hands, and the taste of the blood in your mouth, to remember their screams and to feel like you did those things. But you didn't, the demon inside of you did it, just like Angelus was the one who killed Jenny, and hurt you when I lost my soul."
"I wanted to kill Dawn, and so many other horrible things." Her voice is so muffled I almost don't hear it.
"But you didn't." I tell her.
"I wanted to! I wanted to rip her throat and drink down her blood like it was water." She pounds on my chest with little fists. I pull her closer. It is the first emotion she has had besides crying.
"Shhh, you didn't. That's what matters. Remember the Christmas it snowed, the Christmas you saved me. I wanted a lot of things. I didn't act on any of them. You're stronger then the demon, Buffy."
"I'm not strong, Angel. I borrowed strength from everybody, from Mom, Giles, Willow, Xander and you. I don't want strong anymore. I should have died. I should be bones in my coffin now. I shouldn't have to be strong anymore. "
God, just when I thought she couldn't break me any more. I squeeze her tightly; afraid she'll still be taken away from me. I close my eyes and I can see her diving from the top of that tower, the portal making her glow with a beautiful white light. I take a deep breath of her. Somehow she still manages to smell like vanilla and sunshine.
"I'm sorry, Buffy. It's my fault you're not. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get through my life without you, not after the dreams, not after I'd been warned, not when I had a chance to save you. I need you to be strong. You are my strength. Strong is fighting, it's hard and its everyday, but we can do it together, Buffy. You told me that. Now I'm telling you that. We will get through this, together." I take her face in my hands and kiss her lips. At first she doesn't respond to me, then she returns the kiss and wraps her arms around my neck. She buries her head in the crook of my neck.
"Can I just stay here forever?" She whispers against my neck.
"I have no qualms with that." I say settling back against the couch, blessed to be holding in my entire world in my arms.
A/N I apologize for all the Angel chapters in a row. I just think it works better from his point of view, for the moment. I promise you'll get some Buffy pov soon.
-Angel-
She's been back for three days and she won't eat. She doesn't talk about it. She sits on the bed in silence or she sleeps. I spend most of my time in the room with her, reading. I sleep, but not much. I'm afraid she's going to wake up and need me. Logic tells me I'll wake up, I'm a light sleeper. I don't trust logic, not when it comes to Buffy. I've let everyone know that Willow's spell worked and promise I'll keep them informed. No one calls to check on her. I know they are uncomfortable and I understand why. It still makes me furious.
I warm up a glass of blood and take it into the bedroom. I set it on the nightstand.
"Buffy, you've got to eat. The longer you go without eating the worse it's going to hurt." I sit down on the edge of the bed. She doesn't look at me.
"It should hurt. I deserve to hurt." Her voice is raspy from crying.
I can't argue with her, not right now. She wouldn't believe me. "Buffy, this isn't the way to inflict pain on yourself. It will only make things worse. The longer you go without food, the harder the demon gets to control." I scoot over closer to her and pull her into my arms. She doesn't resist, but she doesn't respond either. I open the vein on my wrist and hold it to her mouth. At first I think she's going to resist that also, but finally she starts drinking. She lays her head against my chest when she's finished and cries herself to sleep. I slip out from underneath her and go into the main room.
I feel so damn helpless, so useless. I can't make her pain any less, I can't fix anything. I drive my fist into the stone of the fireplace. A tiny crack appears. I punch it again and again, at some point tears spill down my face. The stone façade crumbles. I reduce an entire section to little more then dust before collapsing on the floor. I pull my ruined hands over my head and sob.
I wake up on the rug in front of the fireplace. The fire has burned down to embers. The smell of blood hangs in the air. I glance down at my hands. They are caked with blood but most of the wounds have already begun to heal. This is the smell of fresh, wet blood. I roll up to my feet and walk over to the closed bedroom door. I twist the door handle. It's been locked, or something heavy has been shoved against it.
"Buffy, let me in." I pound on the door but get no response. "Come on, Buffy, don't do this to me." When there is still no response I ram into the door with my shoulder. It gives a little. I do it again, finally busting through and pushing aside the wardrobe Buffy had moved in front of the door.
She's standing next to the bed. She looks like a statue of the Virgin Mary I remember seeing in church when I was a child. She is pale, so pale she almost glows like marble. Tears glisten down her cheeks. The pain and horror in her eyes is tangible. She's wearing a white tee top and a pair of pajama bottoms with flying pigs or something on them. She's standing barefoot in a pool of blood. She holds an ornate dagger in her left hand. She has cut her wrists to the bone.
"I've got to get it all out, Angel, all the blood. I can feel it itching inside of me. I can hear them screaming. I've got to get all their blood out of me." Her voice is distant. She reminds me eerily of Drusilla.
I can't think. All I can see is my Buffy standing in so much blood. I know it won't kill her, but that doesn't make my panic for her well being go away. I grab the first aid kit out of the bathroom and gather her in my arms. I take her away from all this blood to the main room and lay her on the couch. Patiently, carefully, through tear veiled eyes I apply antibiotic cream, even though logically I know vampires don't get infections. I wrap her fragile wrists in layers and layers of white gauze.
"Buffy, you have to promise never to do something like that again." I hold both of her wrists in my hand, careful not to jostle them or cause her anymore pain.
"Why? I won't die. I'll never die, but all those people did. They died because of me. I killed them."
"You didn't kill them, Buffy. A demon killed them, a demon that wore your face and your hands and has your memories, but it was not you. You don't have it in you to kill a person." I place a gentle kiss on each of her wrists.
"I had to get their blood out, Angel. It was boiling and itching and I couldn't take it anymore." Her voice is so tiny, so distant; I don't if I would even hear if it weren't for my keen hearing. No that's wrong, I would always hear Buffy, even in Hell I heard her. I felt her tears and her pain and it was worse then anything the demons there could have devised for me.
I pick her up and settle her on my lap. I kiss the crown of her head and nestle her closer to me. I wrap my arms around her and wish I could keep her in the shelter of my body for the rest of eternity.
"How can you even touch me? I killed all those people, lots of them just for fun." She asks.
"Buffy, there is nothing you can ever do that will make me stop touching you, or wanting you, or loving you. I know it seems like you did those things. I know what it's like to be able to remember your hands, and the taste of the blood in your mouth, to remember their screams and to feel like you did those things. But you didn't, the demon inside of you did it, just like Angelus was the one who killed Jenny, and hurt you when I lost my soul."
"I wanted to kill Dawn, and so many other horrible things." Her voice is so muffled I almost don't hear it.
"But you didn't." I tell her.
"I wanted to! I wanted to rip her throat and drink down her blood like it was water." She pounds on my chest with little fists. I pull her closer. It is the first emotion she has had besides crying.
"Shhh, you didn't. That's what matters. Remember the Christmas it snowed, the Christmas you saved me. I wanted a lot of things. I didn't act on any of them. You're stronger then the demon, Buffy."
"I'm not strong, Angel. I borrowed strength from everybody, from Mom, Giles, Willow, Xander and you. I don't want strong anymore. I should have died. I should be bones in my coffin now. I shouldn't have to be strong anymore. "
God, just when I thought she couldn't break me any more. I squeeze her tightly; afraid she'll still be taken away from me. I close my eyes and I can see her diving from the top of that tower, the portal making her glow with a beautiful white light. I take a deep breath of her. Somehow she still manages to smell like vanilla and sunshine.
"I'm sorry, Buffy. It's my fault you're not. I couldn't do it. I couldn't get through my life without you, not after the dreams, not after I'd been warned, not when I had a chance to save you. I need you to be strong. You are my strength. Strong is fighting, it's hard and its everyday, but we can do it together, Buffy. You told me that. Now I'm telling you that. We will get through this, together." I take her face in my hands and kiss her lips. At first she doesn't respond to me, then she returns the kiss and wraps her arms around my neck. She buries her head in the crook of my neck.
"Can I just stay here forever?" She whispers against my neck.
"I have no qualms with that." I say settling back against the couch, blessed to be holding in my entire world in my arms.
