Chapter Eight
Buffy smiled as he walked toward her. "I thought you'd never come. What took you so long?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I got side tracked I guess." He sat down beside her in the courtyard. The sun shone down on them. She stared unabashedly at him. He was beautiful, so pale the sun made him glow. His hair and eyes by contrast were so dark in the glow that they were almost black.
"I miss you so much," she said.
He smiled. "I've never left you. We're tied together, you and I, forever," he whispered to her.
"Tied together? How do I know you? Why do I love you? I've never met you," she whispered back.
"You're my soul's mate and I yours. You've met me a thousand times. I've loved you a thousand more. We're destined to meet and fall in love over and over," he explained.
"And this time?" she asked hopefully.
"Not this time, but next time," he promised.
"Is that why everything is wrong?" She asked.
He shrugged. "Having each other doesn't make everything right, sometimes it makes it harder."
She shook her head. "It can't be harder then this."
He stood up and leaned over. He placed a kiss on her forehead. He walked into the shadows across the courtyard and disappeared.
Buffy woke up to fingers caressing her face. She smiled and turned into them. The smile faded when she opened her eyes and the eyes she looked into were blue and not chocolate brown.
"Morning," Brandon said, completely unaffected by her fading smile.
"Hey," Buffy greeted and tried to replace the faded smile with something adequate.
"You were whispering Angel and crying in your sleep, so I thought I'd wake you," Brandon said.
"Sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head. "It's fine."
Buffy sighed. "No, Brandon. It's really not. Everything here is wrong."
"We can go somewhere else, anywhere else you want," he promised.
"No it's not the place, it's the life. Something is wrong, something is missing and I don't know how to fix it," Buffy said.
Brandon pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked down toward her feet. "It's Angel, isn't it?"
Buffy nodded slightly. "I'm sorry. It doesn't make any sense. He's not even real. He's some guy I imagined in a dream and then in a statue and I know he's the missing piece in my life but I don't know why or even who he is."
Brandon wordlessly handed her an old, yellowed book. Buffy took it and looked down. It was the hotel registry from the year 1952. Brandon pointed out a name to her. Buffy looked down with wide eyes. In very elegant script was the name Angel, no last name just Angel. Next to the name was the room number 217. Tears rushed to her eyes. "He's real. I didn't imagine him or make him up," she whispered.
Brandon shrugged. "And he was here in 1952 in this room."
Buffy swallowed hard. "But that'd make him like seventy something years old."
Brandon nodded.
"Why am I am dreaming about this young guy that I've never met and in reality is seventy years old?" Buffy asked looking up into Brandon's blue eyes.
"I don't know. I wish I had an explanation for you. Maybe if I did..." Brandon trailed off.
Buffy laid the registry in her lap. She cupped Brandon's face with her hand. "I'm not very fair to you. You're so good to me and I'm just using you."
Brandon smiled slightly and shook his head. "You're not using me and even if you were, I'd let you. I love you, Buffy and I know you don't love me. I know that whoever this Angel is, whatever he is, you belong to him heart and soul. I don't know why he's not here now but I'm grateful. I get to be with you when he's not."
"I meant it when I told you I need you. You tie to me this world, without you-sometimes I think I'd float away," Buffy said.
"Then you don't have to love me, it's enough just that you need me," Brandon said and turned his lips into his hand. He placed a light kiss on her palm.
Buffy sighed. "Do we have more angel dust?"
Brandon nodded. "But you need to eat. You haven't been eating much at all. I've got a little money left. I'll run go get some tacos."
Buffy nodded. "And then?"
"After you eat, I'll get you some more," he said.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Brandon placed a light kiss on her lips. "I'll always take care of you, Babe."
Buffy got up and wandered around the bedroom while Brandon was gone. She carried the hotel registry with His name in it. She brushed a hand across the surface of a desk. Her fingers came away thick with dust. Everything smelled musty. She lit one of the candles Brandon had gathered and set it on the surface of the desk. She pulled the chair out and sat down in it. She laid the registry on the desk and wondered if he had sat here. With careful fingers, she cautiously pulled drawers out. In the very back, coated with a thick layer of dust, she found a piece of heavy paper.
Buffy pulled the paper out and blew the dust off of it. She held it up so she could see it by candle light. Her breath caught. It was sketch of her. It could have been done yesterday. She was standing in the sun on a dock and she looked happy in a way she never remembered being. In the top left hand corner it was signed:
You still my girl?
A
Tears filled her eyes and she franticly searched for a pen in her bag. She couldn't find one. She knew what her response was supposed to be. He had asked her this question before, a thousand times before and her answer had been the same each time. Finally in desperation she pulled a dagger from her bag. She made a small cut on her finger and wrote in blood on the bottom right hand corner:
Always,
B
Buffy sucked on her finger and placed the sketch back in the drawer. She carefully closed it and went to wander around the hotel some more until Brandon got back.
Hyperion Hotel Los Angeles 1952
Angel shut the door and opened the blood the hotel employee had brought him. He poured it into a crystal cut scotch glass and sat down at the desk. He closed his eyes and the image of the girl he'd been dreaming about came to mind.
He didn't know her but somehow he knew everything about her. She was tiny and blond but she radiated strength, strength of spirit, strength of heart. He even knew what she smelled like, vanilla, sunshine and strength. She was the sunrise in the form of a girl and he loved her. He didn't even know her name. He'd drawn countless sketches of her, most of them of her on a dock in the sunlight. Somehow he knew exactly what she looked like in the sun, how it made her glow like a real angel, not the broken kind he was. Yesterday he had done another sketch of her on the dock in the glorious sunlight. On a whim he'd written in the top left hand corner:
You still my girl?
A
He'd told himself he'd gone off his rocker finally and tucked it in the back of a drawer in the desk. Now he opened the drawer and slid the sketch out. If he'd been alive his heart would have skipped a beat. The lower right hand corner was signed:
Always,
B.
He sniffed the paper. She'd signed it in blood and the scent of her rolled over him like a tide. He could taste her blood in his mouth and he knew somehow some way he'd tasted it before. It was sweet and rich and so powerful. And when he'd tasted it, it had been given with love and trust. He knew he hadn't taken anything from this girl. It had all been given freely.
Without thought he wrote across the bottom of the sketch in flowing script
I will find you. If I were blind I would see you.
A.
Hyperion Hotel Los Angeles 1997
Buffy slid out of the bed. Brandon was sound asleep. He stirred slightly as she slipped from his arms but fell back into his customary heavy sleep within seconds.
It was morning. Buffy could tell by the sunlight falling though the small crack in the heavy curtains. It splashed on the desk, guiding her to it. She opened the bottom drawer, the same one she'd put the sketch back in two days ago. She withdrew the sketch and read the new words written there.
I will find you. If I were blind I would see you.
A.
Buffy bit her bottom lip. She needed to figure this out. She had to come with a reasonable explanation of how this was happening. She was communicating with someone from 1952. She wondered briefly if he was a ghost, haunting this place. She dismissed the thought though. He was too real feeling inside of her to be a ghost. She dug the rest of the angel dust out of Brandon's bag. She sniffed more then she ever had before. She found a pen in his bag and scribbled Thank you across a blank page on the hotel registry.
She slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She giggled as the angel dust took hold of her. She floated through the hotel, haunting it's halls like a ghost herself. She needed to find him. She knew that she'd only be complete if she could find him.
A side kick smashed open the boarded up door that led to a wing that apparently hadn't been used in a very long time. She wandered through the hallway. It smelled damp and moldy. Buffy sneezed and it made her giggle. She wandered into what must have been the hotel kitchen. She sat down on the floor cross legged. Buffy bent over her legs and laid her cheek on the cool, cracked tile floor. All her senses were enhanced. She smiled. She knew it was how she was going to find Angel. Maybe it was the Powers that Be way of helping her, or maybe it was the angel dust. It didn't matter. She heard what was under the floor.
Buffy sat up on her knees and drove her right fist into the floor. She hit the same place with methodical punches. The tile cracked around her fist and then the wooden floor underneath. Little bones in her hand broke, blood coated her fist and she didn't feel anything. Her fist broke through and floor crumbled all around her. Buffy looked through the hole she'd made and smiled. Underneath the kitchen floor lay a swimming pool and somehow the water was still clear and blue and wonderful looking.
Buffy found a fire ax and used it make the hole in the floor wider. Once it was big enough she took a step. She weighed less then nothing, she'd float all the way down. She made an awfully big splash for someone that was floating, she thought. Water rushed up her nose and she emerged on the surface of the water. She blew the water out of her nose and relaxed back. The water would catch her. She'd float all the way to Angel.
*
When Brandon woke up Buffy was gone. He scrubbed a hand over his face and hair. He got up and pulled on his jeans and a white wife beater. It took him hours to find her. The hotel was huge. He didn't even know it had a pool.
"Buffy," he said stepping into the pool room. There was no answer. He walked closer to the pool and vomited when he saw her floating in the pool. He dived in and gathered her in his arms. He pulled her to the side, hauling her out of the pool.
"Buffy, come on, Babe don't do this to me," he had taken a CPR class years ago. It came rushing to him as if it was yesterday. He pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. He did chest compressions on her. There was nothing. He held her wrist in his hand. There was no pulse. Her skin was cool to the touch.
He pulled her body into his and wrapped himself around her. She seemed even tinier in death then she had in life. He sobbed over the girl who didn't belong to him and yet he belonged to her in every way.
Buffy smiled as he walked toward her. "I thought you'd never come. What took you so long?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I got side tracked I guess." He sat down beside her in the courtyard. The sun shone down on them. She stared unabashedly at him. He was beautiful, so pale the sun made him glow. His hair and eyes by contrast were so dark in the glow that they were almost black.
"I miss you so much," she said.
He smiled. "I've never left you. We're tied together, you and I, forever," he whispered to her.
"Tied together? How do I know you? Why do I love you? I've never met you," she whispered back.
"You're my soul's mate and I yours. You've met me a thousand times. I've loved you a thousand more. We're destined to meet and fall in love over and over," he explained.
"And this time?" she asked hopefully.
"Not this time, but next time," he promised.
"Is that why everything is wrong?" She asked.
He shrugged. "Having each other doesn't make everything right, sometimes it makes it harder."
She shook her head. "It can't be harder then this."
He stood up and leaned over. He placed a kiss on her forehead. He walked into the shadows across the courtyard and disappeared.
Buffy woke up to fingers caressing her face. She smiled and turned into them. The smile faded when she opened her eyes and the eyes she looked into were blue and not chocolate brown.
"Morning," Brandon said, completely unaffected by her fading smile.
"Hey," Buffy greeted and tried to replace the faded smile with something adequate.
"You were whispering Angel and crying in your sleep, so I thought I'd wake you," Brandon said.
"Sorry," she whispered.
He shook his head. "It's fine."
Buffy sighed. "No, Brandon. It's really not. Everything here is wrong."
"We can go somewhere else, anywhere else you want," he promised.
"No it's not the place, it's the life. Something is wrong, something is missing and I don't know how to fix it," Buffy said.
Brandon pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked down toward her feet. "It's Angel, isn't it?"
Buffy nodded slightly. "I'm sorry. It doesn't make any sense. He's not even real. He's some guy I imagined in a dream and then in a statue and I know he's the missing piece in my life but I don't know why or even who he is."
Brandon wordlessly handed her an old, yellowed book. Buffy took it and looked down. It was the hotel registry from the year 1952. Brandon pointed out a name to her. Buffy looked down with wide eyes. In very elegant script was the name Angel, no last name just Angel. Next to the name was the room number 217. Tears rushed to her eyes. "He's real. I didn't imagine him or make him up," she whispered.
Brandon shrugged. "And he was here in 1952 in this room."
Buffy swallowed hard. "But that'd make him like seventy something years old."
Brandon nodded.
"Why am I am dreaming about this young guy that I've never met and in reality is seventy years old?" Buffy asked looking up into Brandon's blue eyes.
"I don't know. I wish I had an explanation for you. Maybe if I did..." Brandon trailed off.
Buffy laid the registry in her lap. She cupped Brandon's face with her hand. "I'm not very fair to you. You're so good to me and I'm just using you."
Brandon smiled slightly and shook his head. "You're not using me and even if you were, I'd let you. I love you, Buffy and I know you don't love me. I know that whoever this Angel is, whatever he is, you belong to him heart and soul. I don't know why he's not here now but I'm grateful. I get to be with you when he's not."
"I meant it when I told you I need you. You tie to me this world, without you-sometimes I think I'd float away," Buffy said.
"Then you don't have to love me, it's enough just that you need me," Brandon said and turned his lips into his hand. He placed a light kiss on her palm.
Buffy sighed. "Do we have more angel dust?"
Brandon nodded. "But you need to eat. You haven't been eating much at all. I've got a little money left. I'll run go get some tacos."
Buffy nodded. "And then?"
"After you eat, I'll get you some more," he said.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Brandon placed a light kiss on her lips. "I'll always take care of you, Babe."
Buffy got up and wandered around the bedroom while Brandon was gone. She carried the hotel registry with His name in it. She brushed a hand across the surface of a desk. Her fingers came away thick with dust. Everything smelled musty. She lit one of the candles Brandon had gathered and set it on the surface of the desk. She pulled the chair out and sat down in it. She laid the registry on the desk and wondered if he had sat here. With careful fingers, she cautiously pulled drawers out. In the very back, coated with a thick layer of dust, she found a piece of heavy paper.
Buffy pulled the paper out and blew the dust off of it. She held it up so she could see it by candle light. Her breath caught. It was sketch of her. It could have been done yesterday. She was standing in the sun on a dock and she looked happy in a way she never remembered being. In the top left hand corner it was signed:
You still my girl?
A
Tears filled her eyes and she franticly searched for a pen in her bag. She couldn't find one. She knew what her response was supposed to be. He had asked her this question before, a thousand times before and her answer had been the same each time. Finally in desperation she pulled a dagger from her bag. She made a small cut on her finger and wrote in blood on the bottom right hand corner:
Always,
B
Buffy sucked on her finger and placed the sketch back in the drawer. She carefully closed it and went to wander around the hotel some more until Brandon got back.
Hyperion Hotel Los Angeles 1952
Angel shut the door and opened the blood the hotel employee had brought him. He poured it into a crystal cut scotch glass and sat down at the desk. He closed his eyes and the image of the girl he'd been dreaming about came to mind.
He didn't know her but somehow he knew everything about her. She was tiny and blond but she radiated strength, strength of spirit, strength of heart. He even knew what she smelled like, vanilla, sunshine and strength. She was the sunrise in the form of a girl and he loved her. He didn't even know her name. He'd drawn countless sketches of her, most of them of her on a dock in the sunlight. Somehow he knew exactly what she looked like in the sun, how it made her glow like a real angel, not the broken kind he was. Yesterday he had done another sketch of her on the dock in the glorious sunlight. On a whim he'd written in the top left hand corner:
You still my girl?
A
He'd told himself he'd gone off his rocker finally and tucked it in the back of a drawer in the desk. Now he opened the drawer and slid the sketch out. If he'd been alive his heart would have skipped a beat. The lower right hand corner was signed:
Always,
B.
He sniffed the paper. She'd signed it in blood and the scent of her rolled over him like a tide. He could taste her blood in his mouth and he knew somehow some way he'd tasted it before. It was sweet and rich and so powerful. And when he'd tasted it, it had been given with love and trust. He knew he hadn't taken anything from this girl. It had all been given freely.
Without thought he wrote across the bottom of the sketch in flowing script
I will find you. If I were blind I would see you.
A.
Hyperion Hotel Los Angeles 1997
Buffy slid out of the bed. Brandon was sound asleep. He stirred slightly as she slipped from his arms but fell back into his customary heavy sleep within seconds.
It was morning. Buffy could tell by the sunlight falling though the small crack in the heavy curtains. It splashed on the desk, guiding her to it. She opened the bottom drawer, the same one she'd put the sketch back in two days ago. She withdrew the sketch and read the new words written there.
I will find you. If I were blind I would see you.
A.
Buffy bit her bottom lip. She needed to figure this out. She had to come with a reasonable explanation of how this was happening. She was communicating with someone from 1952. She wondered briefly if he was a ghost, haunting this place. She dismissed the thought though. He was too real feeling inside of her to be a ghost. She dug the rest of the angel dust out of Brandon's bag. She sniffed more then she ever had before. She found a pen in his bag and scribbled Thank you across a blank page on the hotel registry.
She slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She giggled as the angel dust took hold of her. She floated through the hotel, haunting it's halls like a ghost herself. She needed to find him. She knew that she'd only be complete if she could find him.
A side kick smashed open the boarded up door that led to a wing that apparently hadn't been used in a very long time. She wandered through the hallway. It smelled damp and moldy. Buffy sneezed and it made her giggle. She wandered into what must have been the hotel kitchen. She sat down on the floor cross legged. Buffy bent over her legs and laid her cheek on the cool, cracked tile floor. All her senses were enhanced. She smiled. She knew it was how she was going to find Angel. Maybe it was the Powers that Be way of helping her, or maybe it was the angel dust. It didn't matter. She heard what was under the floor.
Buffy sat up on her knees and drove her right fist into the floor. She hit the same place with methodical punches. The tile cracked around her fist and then the wooden floor underneath. Little bones in her hand broke, blood coated her fist and she didn't feel anything. Her fist broke through and floor crumbled all around her. Buffy looked through the hole she'd made and smiled. Underneath the kitchen floor lay a swimming pool and somehow the water was still clear and blue and wonderful looking.
Buffy found a fire ax and used it make the hole in the floor wider. Once it was big enough she took a step. She weighed less then nothing, she'd float all the way down. She made an awfully big splash for someone that was floating, she thought. Water rushed up her nose and she emerged on the surface of the water. She blew the water out of her nose and relaxed back. The water would catch her. She'd float all the way to Angel.
*
When Brandon woke up Buffy was gone. He scrubbed a hand over his face and hair. He got up and pulled on his jeans and a white wife beater. It took him hours to find her. The hotel was huge. He didn't even know it had a pool.
"Buffy," he said stepping into the pool room. There was no answer. He walked closer to the pool and vomited when he saw her floating in the pool. He dived in and gathered her in his arms. He pulled her to the side, hauling her out of the pool.
"Buffy, come on, Babe don't do this to me," he had taken a CPR class years ago. It came rushing to him as if it was yesterday. He pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. He did chest compressions on her. There was nothing. He held her wrist in his hand. There was no pulse. Her skin was cool to the touch.
He pulled her body into his and wrapped himself around her. She seemed even tinier in death then she had in life. He sobbed over the girl who didn't belong to him and yet he belonged to her in every way.