THE TOUCH OF YOUR HAND – Chapter 4
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, much as I wish I did. They belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy.
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Silence fell. Finally Buffy said, "So why do you think I'm in danger? I mean, since there wasn't a vision this time."
"There was a vision," Angel replied. "It came to Cordelia. She sort of inherited them from Doyle."
Buffy blinked. "Cordelia? Inherited them, how?"
"Just before Doyle died, he kissed her," Angel said. "Cordelia said she felt something different but she just thought it was because of the . . . the circumstances. But apparently it was Doyle passing his gift on to her."
"Oh." Buffy took several moments to absorb this, then gave him a wry look. "Why do I suspect that Cordelia isn't appreciating this particular gift?"
"You're right, she's not. She spent the first few days kissing almost everybody in sight, trying to pass it along to someone else." Angel's mouth quirked, as did Buffy's. Then she sighed.
"Okay. So what did Cordy's vision have to say?"
"Not much, unfortunately. She's still learning how to decipher them. Basically all she could tell was that the danger involved Sunnydale and you."
"Not meaning to criticize here, but that's not real helpful," Buffy observed.
Angel ruefully agreed, saying, "I'd hoped that the danger would become apparent once I got here, but - "
"So far the only one at risk has been you," Buffy finished. She paused. "Angel, I'm sorry. I guess I should have warned you about the Initiative commandos, but I didn't think you'd be coming here again. Not this soon, anyway."
"Buffy, who are these people?" Angel asked quietly. "What do they want with live vampires?"
Buffy sighed. "That's the question of the hour. I wish I knew the answer to it. I know what I've been told by Riley and Professor Walsh - she's the one in charge of the Initiative - but I also know what Spike told us."
She smiled rather grimly at Angel's startled exclamation, and told him of Spike's capture and his escape from the Initiative lab, and what had been done to him there.
Angel looked thoughtful. "So he literally can't harm a living being, not even animals? Not even in self-defense? He must be going crazy by now."
"He is," she said wryly.
"Buffy - " Angel hesitated, then bit the bullet. "This Riley . . . can you trust him?"
She didn't say anything for several long moments, then she sighed. "If you'd asked me that a month ago, before I knew about the Initiative, I'd have said yes without even thinking about it. Now . . . I just don't know."
She rose to her feet. "Do you feel strong enough to stand? 'Cause it'll be a big help if you can make it to the car when it's here without Willow and me dragging you."
Angel accepted the change of subject without protest. Slowly he drew his legs in toward his body, then partly underneath him. Rolling onto one hip and pushing against the floor he achieved a semi-kneeling position. Buffy squatted down beside him, pulling his free arm over her shoulders. "Okay; on three?"
He nodded, readying his determination. "One. Two. Three." With Buffy's assistance Angel got to his feet, although he found it necessary to lean against the wall to stay on them. Buffy moved to the front so she could see his face
"How are you doing?"
Angel looked down. His arm still covered her shoulders, her arm circled his waist. Something pulled tight in his chest; if he hadn't known better he would have said his heart skipped a beat. He tried to speak and failed. Swallowing, he made a second attempt.
"I'm . . . doing all right." His voice came out in a harsh whisper. His eyes met hers and were captured.
Buffy stared into his eyes. She took a breath and moistened her lips. "Good. We'll . . . wait a minute, then see how you do at . . . walking."
Angel nodded slowly, still lost in her gaze and the impact of her physical closeness. To his utter surprise he heard his voice saying, "I think this is a record for us."
"What is?" she asked softly.
"We've been together for more than five minutes without having even one fight." The next moment he could have bitten his tongue off. What in God's name possessed him to say that? Talk about waving a red flag in front of a bull, not to mention breaking the mood!
But to his astonishment Buffy didn't instantly go on the offensive. Instead, after a second she said, quietly, "That's probably because I haven't been attacking everything you say, the way I normally do – sometimes even before you say anything."
In all honesty, Angel couldn't deny it. Buffy smiled sadly and continued. "I don't mean to do it, but - whenever I see you, all these emotions just rise up and explode inside me. And then I explode at you. I'm sorry, but I can't stop myself. It just hurts so much to see you again." The final words were a mere whisper. The atmosphere around them became charged with emotion.
"Buffy, don't." His voice shook. "Don't do this."
Buffy ignored his plea. "Angel, I love you so much and I know you love me, and I know this separation is just as hard on you as it is on me . . . but a part of me has never forgiven you for leaving, and that part is so . . . angry . . . at you! It's easier to show the anger, and it doesn't hurt." Her voice cracked. "And now you're here, and your arm is around me and you're so close, and I can't stand it!"
She was crying. "God, Angel, isn't there some way we can make it work?"
"Buffy, don't." Angel pleaded brokenly. Her eyes, large and tragic and drowned in tears, pierced him to the bottom of his soul. He'd seen her cry like this too many times; and too often he had been the cause of her tears. As fast as his thumbs brushed the falling drops off her cheeks, more followed in their wake.
"Please don't. It tears me apart to see you like this." He cradled her against him, almost weeping himself. "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I should have just called Giles and let him handle it."
Her arms tightened convulsively around his waist. "No," Buffy whispered. "That would have hurt just as much, only in a different way. At least with this pain I also get the joy of seeing you."
"Buffy," he whispered raggedly. He bent down and they kissed. The touch of her lips jolted him as much as the stun gun had earlier, only this jolt didn't paralyze him. Far from it. Every nerve in his body blazed into joyous life.
Her arms slid up his chest to his neck and he caught her to him. This time the kiss was deeper, hungrier. Angel felt Buffy straining against him; her tiny hands caressed his back and shoulders, slid down his arms and over his waist to his buttocks. Desire flared.
As if in warning, the memory of another kiss rose before him, the time just after he'd turned human when he'd almost lectured them both into taking their new relationship slowly and carefully. While saying goodbye Buffy had put her hand on his, and with that simple touch he'd known how ridiculously futile his attempts at caution were, like a child building a dam on the beach to hold back the ocean. Their love could not, would not, be denied its fullest expression.
He'd pulled her into his arms and their resulting passion had all but wrecked the kitchen. The table still wobbled due to an inexpertly mended leg that had broken from the weight of their bodies atop it.
Groaning, he buried his head in Buffy's hair, still holding her tightly. He'd been fully human at that time. What had happened then couldn't happen now, or he'd lose his soul and turn evil again. He groaned again, and felt himself trembling.
Buffy went very still, her body rigid in his embrace. "We can't do it, can we? We can't be together," she whispered. Her eyes, when he looked into them, were as lifeless as her voice.
"It's not fair, you know," she went on, dully. "All we want is to be able to love each other. Why should that be so difficult?"
She pulled away, adding in the same monotone, "I think I hear Willow coming with the car." Angel reached for her but she evaded his grasp. Outside he heard a car approaching.
"I'm sorry, Angel," she whispered, looking at him with those dead eyes. "I was being totally selfish. I forgot how much you have to lose if we. . . . It won't happen again." The engine noise cut off and a door slammed.
"Buffy - " He tried again to take her arm, but she looked away, holding up one shaking hand, palm outward. He knew that gesture; it was heartbreakingly familiar. It was a plea for him to stop; it meant that she couldn't take any more, that if he said another word she might break. Besides, what could he tell her? Nothing had changed, their situation was just as hopeless as ever. A cry of anguish welled up from deep within him.
Willow appeared in the doorway just in time to hear Angel cry out and see him deliver a powerful blow to the wall with his clenched fist. Large cracks appeared in the plaster, radiating out on every side from the point of impact. A shower of white flakes drifted to the floor.
She stopped dead, her startled glance darting back and forth from Angel, leaning against the wall, his face a mask of torment, to Buffy, who had obviously been crying, standing still and silent a few feet away, staring bleakly into space. "Uh, Buffy - the car's outside," she ventured.
Buffy looked at her but it seemed to take a moment before Willow's words registered. "Okay," she finally said and started to leave, then paused, turning her head slightly. "Angel, can you walk?"
Angel slowly raised his head. "I think so," he said dully. Moving like an old man, he straightened up and took one step forward, wavered and caught himself against the wall. Buffy made an involuntary movement, as if to go to him, but stopped herself. After a doubtful glance at her, Willow went to Angel's side and offered her support.
"Thank you," he said in a mechanical tone, and leaned on her shoulder. He had regained even more strength in the past few minutes, so although their progress was slower than it would have been otherwise, he walked without any real problem. It didn't takethem long to cross the fifteen or twenty feet to the car parked in front of the shed.
Buffy opened the front passenger door and Willow helped Angel onto the seat. It was then that she saw his hand. It was swollen and deep abrasions marred the skin. Vampires retained just enough blood in their system to rise to the surface if the skin was cut or scraped, and Angel's hand glistened darkly in the moonlight. "Angel, your hand."
Angel didn't even look at it. "It'll be all right," he said in that same dead voice.
Buffy brushed Willow aside and, kneeling down, took his hand in hers, probing it gently. "I don't think anything's broken," she said after a minute.
Angel slowly turned his head toward her. "It'll be fine," he told her gently. His fingers curled around hers, holding them captive.
Buffy kissed his hand without looking at him. "This is my fault too," she whispered shakily. "I'm sorry." Before he could respond she withdrew her hand and got into the back seat. Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of Giles' apartment.
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