Immortal - XVII
'You used to captivate me by your resonating light,
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind,
Your face it haunts, my once pleasant dreams,
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me.'
- My Immortal by Evanescence
Angel hovered uselessly- for it was all he could do since simply sitting by Buffy's side had become intolerable. The Slayer lay on a makeshift bed of rags and cushions, her skin pallid and beaded with droplets of sweat. Buffy's entire torso had been wrapped in crisp white gauze which had also served well to swathe her damaged ankle. Her ruined clothing had been discarded and instead a bed sheet employed in the preservation of her modesty. Willow now worked over the body of her friend, her eyes closed in concentration as her palms drifted above Buffy's hidden wounds. In the dim light of the sewer chamber, Angel could clearly see the sparkling sapphire droplets that rained from Willow's hands and seeped into the Slayer's bandages. The witch's mouth was set in a grim line, which did little if nothing to counter Angel's mounting fears.
Buffy had not stirred since they had arrived at the chamber, remaining locked in a surprisingly peaceful slumber. Angel was thankful for the morphine that they had been able to procure, knowing that the longer Buffy slept the harder her body would work to repair itself.
In the far corner of the chamber the remaining soldiers had gathered in order to discuss their best course of action. When his listlessness escalated, Angel honed in on their conversation and, from what he could gather thus far, the men were clueless as to how to proceed. Their indecision was further hindered by the fact that the highest ranking member of the party had been devoured by one of the part-lobster creatures. Angel chuckled softly in amusement at the stolen snippets of their rather ludicrous argument.
He grew silent and suddenly still as his senses alerted him to the presence of a warm body at his side. Angel remained unmoving until he felt trembling fingers begin to caress his lower arm. He turned and smiled down at the woman before him, who regarded him through frightened hazel eyes which were obscured somewhat by her tangle of brown hair. Her clothes hung from her body in tatters, the remnants of a pair of mauve hospital scrubs which were slashed completely open at the top revealing the jagged protrusion of her collarbone beneath her skin.
"May," Angel said in way of greeting, his tone gentle and warm as though he were coaxing an animal. The woman smiled up at Angel, although the corners of her mouth twitched and her eyes darted around the chamber in a display of her ill-ease.
"Angel," she said in reply, the word escaping on a breath, "how is your friend doing?"
Angel felt an immediate stab of pain as he glanced over at Buffy's motionless form; small, battered, and so seemingly helpless. With her honey-golden hair spread out in a fan above her head she had taken on an increasingly angelic appearance. Periodically, one or more of the band of soldiers would steal an anxious glance in her direction, and Angel knew that they too had fallen for the mysterious Slayer. They talked in hushed awe of the diminutive and beautiful woman who had saved them, fighting against the demons as well as any man in battle they had ever known.
"Willow's trying to accelerate her body's natural healing processes," Angel explained, his voice still quiet in order to soothe the woman, who appeared as though she may bolt at any given second.
"I did all I could," May replied, her tone dripping with earnest. She leaned closer to Angel, "Her right ankle isn't broken but there may be some muscle damage… something to check out if we ever... I sutured the bites and the deeper scratches. As far as I could tell that thing missed all her vital organs and major arteries… pretty lucky really… she lost a lot of blood but I don't have the right equipment for a transfer and…"
"May," Angel said softly, gripping the tops of the woman's arms and flashing her the most sincere smile he could muster, "thank you."
May relaxed a little and returned Angel's smile. She gestured somewhat tentatively with her hand towards Willow, who appeared still to be engrossed in her work.
"What… what is she?" May inquired, her natural curiosity overriding her fear momentarily. Angel laughed and shook his head.
"Human," he replied, "but I suppose you would call her a witch. She's not like those things, she's…"
"Good?" May interjected hopefully, never tearing her gaze away from the redhead with the enchanting impish features. Angel nodded once in response and May finally smiled.
It still amazed Angel how well the surviving humans had adjusted to this peculiar and alarming new world. He had met May several days after the initial attack on L.A. She had been one of the last to flee the streets, her devotion to her work proving too great to allow her to simply abandon her patients in their beds. She had been working as a nurse at one of the smaller local hospitals whilst attending night school to qualify as a doctor. When news of the demon hordes had eventually broken, May had stayed behind at the hospital in a noble yet somewhat misguided attempt to evacuate the patients. Of course, they had been slaughtered in the subsequent attack and May had barely escaped with her own life. Angel had found the woman wandering the streets in a near catatonic state. Upon finding herself in the sewer systems in the midst of so many wounded, she had been compelled to help. In truth, May had become one of Angel's greatest resources in the fight against the demons and, in the absence of Fred, Wesley and Gunn, one of his most trusted friends.
"I just can't…" May began, chewing on her bottom lip as her eyes drifted to Buffy's body, "anyone else… any human… they'd be dead by now. She lost a lot of blood."
The unspoken query hung somewhat uncomfortably in the air between them. Angel narrowed his eyes as he surveyed May, her arms encircled tightly around her own body. She trembled a little as she stood and Angel realised that she was afraid.
"She's special," he finally replied, his voice almost cracking. "She's here to help… to help me, and I let this happen."
May shook her head vehemently, and her hand darted forward, her cold fingers wrapping around Angel's wrist. Her strength was surprising given her stature and state of malnourishment.
"No Angel, you've saved so many people, and you saved your friend too. If you hadn't got her here when you did…" May trailed off, surprised by the intensity within Angel's eyes. Tentatively, she pressed, "She's more than a friend to you?"
There was a time when Angel would have seen fit to rebuff any such allegations, having discovered the devastating consequences of owning a more than professional relationship with the Slayer. Yet whilst Buffy's life teetered on a dangerous precipice, Angel found himself no longer able to refute his feelings. Despite his faith in Willow's abilities and Buffy's own strength, he naturally feared the worst and refused to commit that final, unforgivable betrayal of the one he loved.
"She's always been more," Angel murmured, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand in order to eradicate the tears that had yet to fall. "She just doesn't know it."
May squeezed Angel's wrist in a gesture of comfort before withdrawing her hand and jamming it into her pocket.
"Then I hope you get your chance to tell her."
Angel consented to smile as he watched May timidly approach the band of soldiers, determined to offer them what little hospitality she could muster. He returned his attentions to Willow, whose ritual appeared to have now drawn to a halt. The witch knelt on the floor at the side of Buffy's bed, clutching her best friend's hand in her own and staring thoughtfully into space.
Willow raised her head as Angel approached and offered him a wan smile. Her eyes had fallen victim to dark purple bags and her usually brilliant auburn hair now hung in lank tendrils. Hell was taking its toll on them all.
"How is she?" Angel inquired, unthinkingly dropping his voice to a barely audible whisper despite the fact that Buffy's slumber was now almost entirely artificial.
"Better, if you can believe it," Willow replied, matching the vampire's hushed tones. She stifled a yawn with the palm of her hand. "Once the morphine wears off she'll regain consciousness. She'll be weak for a while, and probably feel like she had a house dropped on her… but she'll be ok."
Angel sighed in relief and lowered himself to the ground by Willow's side.
"Get some rest Willow," he insisted, "we still have a long way to go until this is over."
Knowing that it would be both unwise and fruitless to resist, Willow nodded and clambered to her feet. She cast a final glance at her sleeping friend and offered Angel a stoic smile.
"Angel?" she said quietly, her eyes inexplicably drifting to the stone floor beneath her feet. Angel glanced up at Willow, his expression somewhat wary yet his attention obligingly rapt.
"I was thinking," Willow began, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she delayed meeting Angel's gaze.
"Yeah?" Angel pressed as Willow offered nothing further and merely continued to examine the particles of dust that floated in the atmosphere.
Willow swallowed hard and her blue eyes locked upon Angel's for the briefest of moments.
"Buffy deserves to be happy," Willow said with conviction, adding with a softer inflection, "she deserves whatever it takes to make that happen."
"Even if that's me… us?" Angel responded, his expression devoid of all traces of emotion.
Willow narrowed her eyes at the vampire, regarding him without the previously present hostility. Her expression returned to normal as she appeared to have reached her decision.
After a beat she replied, "Even if."
"Sleep well," Angel whispered, watching as Willow disappeared into the sewer passage that would lead her back to the hidden room.
Angel leant closer to Buffy, his eyes monitoring the now steadying rise and fall of her chest. Her lips were beginning to revert to their normal pinkish hue and her body starting to regain some of it's natural warmth. Angel clasped Buffy's hand in his own and massaged her smooth alabaster skin with his thumb. Carefully, he leaned forwards and bestowed a tender kiss on Buffy's forehead. Registering the gesture even in her unconscious state, Buffy released a sigh of deep contentment. Angel hoped beyond anything else that Buffy had witnessed Willow's words and recognised the somewhat reluctant blessing nestled within them. Given the opportunity, he would hold Willow to her promises. Angel only hoped that he still lay within the realms of all that Buffy desired to truly make her happy. So much had occurred throughout the years since Buffy and Angel's lives had first collided, so much lost and very little regained for the two champions. Yet Angel was sure of one thing; even if Buffy had been able to put that part of their past behind her and close the door on it, Angel had not. He had entrusted her with his heart, forever.