Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel or any of the characters mentioned in either cannon. I don't own the song either. It's The Man Who Can't Be Moved by The Script.
Author's Note: The story is based off the song listed above. I'm not sure if I'll be putting the lyrics in, but you can take a listen to get an idea. The story is based after both shows having come to an end. Think a few years into the future. Special thanks to frosty600 for being my Beta for this fan-fiction. (: Please review this fiction. I love hearing your opinions and it makes me want to write a lot more.
Chapter One - When I Close My Eyes
Gripping the glass, Angel brought it to his lips and emptied the contents of it into his mouth. Swallowing the whiskey, he turned the empty glass around in his hand. Grip tightening on the glass, he compared himself to it. Empty. It's exactly how he felt. And when the glass shattered in his hand, he stared down at the broken shards embedded in his skin. Broken. That's exactly what he was. The crimson blood slipped between his fingers, falling, just like Buffy's had. Eyes closing, he saw a flash of the room, could still smell the scent of Buffy's blood. Hand shooting out, Angel gripped the bottle of whiskey, ignoring the shattered glass and blood, and turned the bottle up… completely. Maybe if he drank enough, he could numb the pain, the pain in his heart instead of his hand.
Angel drank until the world did more than spin. Everything seemed hazy as it faded away. It was when everything faded that he felt her. Standing, he gripped the table, tearing the skin that had healed around the glass. "Buffy?" The hope in his voice as he slurred her name was damn near heartbreaking. Trying to get his eyes to focus, he lurched forward when he saw a flash of blonde hair, reaching for her. Tripping over the chair, both he and the chair ended up on the floor. Ignoring the blood seeping out of the cut above his eye, from where it had caught the corner of the chair, Angel reached out blindly. "Buffy?" Desperation entering his voice, he staggered toward the bed.
Unable to find her, having lost her again, Angel dropped to his knees beside the bed. It was hopeless and yet still inside of him there was hope that he'd find her again. Resting his head on the edge of the bed, he remained on the floor, unable to move, his strength finally gone as temporary defeat found him. Eyes closing, he inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla as her name fell from his lips one more time in a broken whisper. "Buffy…."
Feeling her heart break, her hand sifted through his disheveled dark locks. She could almost feel the hair that slipped through her fingers as his face found her lap. Instead of saying anything, Buffy remained completely still, afraid that it'd all fade away. Her own eyes closed, his grip tightening around her legs and he remained on his knees between them, as tears fell down her cheeks. The more he cried, the more tears fell from her own eyes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of her bottom lip, she felt heart break over and over again as she heard his distressed pleas of forgiveness. Taking the risk, Buffy reached down, her small hand finding his larger one. Eyes opening, she noticed the tattered skin, and she felt her heart weep for him. Fingers moving over the torn flesh, a sick feeling set inside of her. What had she done?
Denied the feel of his touch, the ability to comfort him, Buffy brought his hand to her lips and willed him to feel her lips against his skin. The only feeling she experienced was those inside of her and the one of having his eyes on her. The first thing she saw was the recognition and then the love, the despair, and the agony... all raw enough to be her undoing. Feeling the familiar pull, Buffy looked down at Angel, terrified of what he'd do in her absence. "I'm so sorry."
Those three words were all she needed to say to cause Angel to hold her firmly, like it'd actually hold her there. Watching the panic take over him, Buffy just closed her eyes, unable to look any longer. The more he clung to her, the more she felt herself slip away. "Buffy?" His howl of torment echoed throughout the Hyperion Hotel as Buffy disappeared right before his eyes.
In a drunken stupor, Angel rose to his feet. The mattress was ripped from the bed and launched across the room. Before it could land, the table smashed into the wall. Within seconds, Angel demolished the room, leaving nothing untouched. Beneath him, Cordelia closed her eyes and shivered as she took a seat on the couch. It never got any better. Things only got worse. Head turning toward the rest of the gang, Cordelia's eyes met Spike's from across the room as Angel's howl reached not only their ears, but all of those in the demon world.
Shaken by the emotion his grandsire had roused inside of him, Spike climbed to his feet. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it with a match and then shook the match until the flame went out. Inhaling the smoke into his lungs, Spike did what no one else was brave enough to do. He climbed the stairs, mentally preparing himself what he was about to witness. Mumbling curses all the way up the stairs, he turned the handle of the door, everyone had avoided since Angel had slammed Cordelia into the wall trying to find Buffy.
What he had prepared himself for, fell short of what was before his eyes. The destruction, yes, the despair yes, but nothing to that extent. He could smell his grandsires blood, but the most dominant scent was the smell of fear. It was a scent unrecognizable on his grandsire. As Angelus and as Angel, he hadn't been around to witness fear in the blood. Frozen, Spike felt at a loss. It was all just so overwhelming. For a moment, he debated stepping back outside of the room and taking a moment, but what scared him was the thought of what more could happen in the moment he was gone. Instead, Spike moved forward, closing the door behind him. Even though the click of the door shutting seemed deafening to Spike, it remained unheard by Angel.
"Sire?" The word sounded foreign to his own ears. It had been so long since he had said it, but in that moment it fit. Only a demon could understand the loss of a mate, a real mate bonded by blood and by a connection so intense that nothing else encompassed it. Inching closer to Angel, Spike crouched down so that he could get to Angel's level. A hand was placed on Angel's shoulder, and before Angel looked up, Spike had a sinking feeling it'd be there.
There was still a hint of Angel there, but it was buried beneath the drive to find Buffy and the compilation of emotions so close to the surface. But what stood out the most for Spike was the insanity in Angel's gaze. Angel looked through him and yet he could see it. The poor bloke was barely holding on. Looking away from his vacant gaze, Spike noted the tears that he knew would be there. Tears of blood, having fallen like the petals of a crimson rose. With a shake of his head, Spike hoisted Angel to his feet, where he helped him to the mattress that now rested across the room.
"Maybe you'll find her there, mate. Sleep it off." Sending a look of remorse Angel's way, Spike left the room, closing the door behind him so that Angel could find some kind of peace in his sleep.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he felt his own tears come. "Damn it, love." Resting against the wall of the hall, Spike brought the cigarette back to his lips. "If you're really here, be here."
Pushing himself off the wall, Spike hurried down the stairs, avoiding the eyes of everyone waiting, hopeful.
"I need a fucking drink." It was mumbled as Spike slipped out of the doors Hyperion Hotel, still reeling from the shock that clung to him.
Author's Note: What did you think? It was definitely heartbreaking to write. ):