Underground - X
'Halo, blinding wall between us,
Melt away and leave us alone again,
The humming, haunted somewhere out there,
I believe our love can see us through in death'
- Like You by Evanescence
Los Angeles
Angel plunged into the open manhole seemingly without caution and had barely landed in the ankle-deep stagnant water below before he took off running again. Willow's arm dangled limply from her side but, despite appearances, the vampire took every care to ensure that the woman in his arms remained unharmed. Angel moved fluidly and almost faster than the eye was capable of detecting, but all the while he kept a firm grip on his unconscious charge.
Buffy also neglected the ladder rungs that were positioned on the wall and instead jumped, trusting in Angel's judgement. She landed on her feet and immediately reached up to pull the manhole cover back in place. Mercifully, the action served to blot out the inhuman wailing and Buffy found herself able to remove her hands from her ears. She breathed a sigh of relief as only the soft squeaking of sewer rats and the faint trickling of water effected her hearing.
"Angel, wait up," Buffy called, snapping back into action and wading through the tunnel to where Angel now stood a few yards ahead. The vampire gazed upward and sniffed at the air before decisively inclining his head towards the entrance of a second tunnel. He was clearly tracking something, following a scent that Buffy's nostrils would never be able to detect. The Slayer walked behind, momentarily saving her barrage of questions until they had arrived at Angel's intended destination.
"This way," he instructed softly. His eyes dropped to Willow, who was stirring in his arms and beginning to murmur quietly.
"Will she be…?" Buffy began, glancing fearfully at her friend, finding herself unable to force out her concerns.
"Fine," Angel interjected. The Slayer glanced at Angel sharply, not caring for the sullen tone he was using to address her.
"I told you not to come here. I warned you," Angel all but snarled, his piercing gaze affixed on Buffy's face. Her mouth dropped open into a small 'o' of surprise.
"The dreams?" she asked, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. Angel simply nodded.
"We're almost there," he said after a moment's pause, almost but not quite succeeding in softening his tone. Buffy nodded and continued in Angel's wake. She kept her head bent low, not wanting to meet his gaze again.
They followed the sharp bends of the tunnel for a distance that Buffy estimated to be little under a mile before Angel drew to a halt and turned to face the wall at his right hand side.
"What are we…?" Buffy began, evidently puzzled. Angel ignored her and Buffy could not help but feel stung. After all, she had risked her life to come to L.A. and save him, surely that deserved a small degree of thanks even though he had ended up being the one to save her. She comforted herself with the notion that there was plenty of time to repay that debt.
The Slayer pursed her lips, her expression sour, and folded her arms across her chest as she waited for Angel to make his intentions clear. Supporting Willow's weight with just one arm, Angel reached forwards and ran his palm over the dank brick of the wall. His fingers hovered momentarily over one brick that had been sprayed with a luminous green star almost too small to detect, then he rapped somewhat rhythmically on its surface. Buffy stepped back, watching in amazement as the wall before her shifted until the bricks had pulled apart to create a doorway. Angel was forced to stoop as he crossed the threshold whilst the petite Slayer managed to do likewise remaining at her full height.
Buffy whirled around as the grating sound that signified the bricks returning to their rightful positions rang out once again. A sudden and overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia gripped Buffy, who stumbled further into the confined space they had entered and reached out her hand to Angel. Buffy was grateful when he took it and squeezed it so gently that she almost feared she had imagined the gesture.
They had entered a dimly-lit box room that housed a cot, a metal table and chair, and a bookcase that was filled to capacity with ancient tomes. The only light was provided by a handful of candles positioned in the corners of the room, and Buffy squinted as her eyes struggled to adjust to the veritable darkness. Angel moved rapidly towards the cot and laid Willow down, pausing to measure the witch's pulse before he turned his attention to Buffy.
"Angel…" she began, longing to resolve the issue of her appearance in L.A. as quickly as possible. Angel shook his head, silencing Buffy immediately.
"I begged you not to come," he murmured, avoiding Buffy's gaze as he lowered himself into the metal chair. He seemed deflated and even a little afraid. Buffy ached to shorten the distance between them, but for the time being remained where she stood.
"I thought they were just nightmares, Angel," Buffy explained, her voice containing more sorrow than she had realised she felt.
"But you would have come anyway," he lamented with a shrug, "it's what we do."
Angel ran the tip of his finger across the battered surface of the table and paused at a crimson stain that was unfamiliar to him. His vampire senses alerted him to the fact that it was not blood, but just thinking about the life-sustaining substance made Angel realise that he was ravenous. It had been more than four days since he had last eaten, yet he was still desperately trying to stave off his hunger. Despite over one hundred years practice after his soul had been restored, Angel had never quite grown accustomed to the taste of rats.
Buffy leaned against the wall and instantly regretted the action as she felt the damp seep through her light jacket. She straightened up hurriedly and shivered against the resulting chill that coursed through her body.
"Are you cold?" Angel inquired, climbing to his feet before he had received a response, his gentility suddenly overpowering his anger. He shrugged his black duster from his shoulders and encapsulated Buffy in it's warmth before she could protest. Buffy smiled thinly up at the vampire and momentarily relaxed into his arms. Angel did not withdraw his embrace, instead choosing to lay his chin on the crown of Buffy's head. He inhaled deeply, smiling as the familiar aroma of vanilla shampoo tantalised his nostrils.
Buffy took the opportunity of Angel's proximity to evaluate the vampire's appearance, which was hardly comparable to that of her nightmares. To begin with, his clothing seemed pristine, almost brand new. The cut of his black tailored pants and burgundy shirt hinted vaguely at a designer label, and Buffy wondered with curiosity if Angel had been looting. She almost giggled at the thought.
Buffy's heart fluttered a little in her chest as her gaze swept Angel's towering frame, and slowly her lips curled into an appreciative smile that was unbidden and more than a little embarrassing. Despite whatever horrors he had endured over the last six months, Angel looked better than Buffy had ever remembered him to. His chestnut hair seemed richer in colour than she recalled; his muscles more developed, and rippling beneath the thin fabric of his shirt with his every movement; and his eyes burned with a passion that Buffy had witnessed only once before, on that fateful night when they had first made love.
Buffy wanted him, and from the way that Angel now caressed the top of her arm with his fingers, she knew that he too longed for the warmth of her body beneath his own. Slowly, reluctantly, but resolutely, the two drew apart and exchanged guilty smiles.
"I'm sorry," Angel whispered huskily, his lips brushing Buffy's earlobe and sending shivers coursing down her spine. She swallowed hard, simultaneously adoring and loathing Angel's power over her.
"Me too," she replied meekly, her fingers tracing patterns across Angel's chest. She laid her palm flat over his heart, her expression suddenly mournful at the lack of rhythm beneath her fingertips.
Angel's thoughts immediately settled on the Shansu prophecy that he had signed away without a moment's pause for the benefit of a city that now lay in ruins around him. Sometimes, Angel wished he were capable of being more selfish, then perhaps his last chance at happiness would still lie somewhere within his reach.
"What are you thinking?" Buffy asked quietly, withdrawing her hand from Angel's body and instead using it to push an errant tendril of hair behind her ears.
"That it's wrong to feel so happy that you're here in Hell with me," Angel replied.
In the darkness of the room that had served both as Angel's home and prison for the better part of a year, the two champions regarded each other, both painfully aware of their obligations and their sacrifice.
Without another word, Angel gathered Buffy into his arms and pulled her roughly to him.
In the flickering candlelight, the Slayer and her vampire finally kissed.