TITLE: The Mirror
AUTHOR: AngelicVampyre
RATING: You watch it? You can read it.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; don’t sue.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.
FEEDBACK: I crave it! It’s like cigarettes, ya know? Just when I think I’ve quit…
SPOILERS: Up to ‘Anne’, alternate S3.
NOTES: Just playing around with the idea of astral projection as shown in ‘Nightmares’ (S1) – I think that Joss wasted a lot of good opportunities by never bringing it up again.
SUMMERY: Buffy is reunited with Angel.
By
The denizens of the demon dimension watched, first in surprise and then in horror, as a pure white light surrounded their favourite toy – the vampire with a soul – and began to expand in all directions. Everywhere it touched the landscape changed and demons were swept before it like so much dust before some sort of cosmic broom. It spread at such speed that some of those watching it began to fear that it would continue until they were all swept right into the fire sea. To their relief, after only a few minutes the light slowed and came to a halt but it didn’t fade. Instead it formed a barrier and beyond the seemingly impenetrable shell was a lush, green, apparently sunlit, meadow with a diameter of roughly two miles and standing motionless in the very centre, apparently unharmed, was the vampire.
*~*~*~*~*~*
She was the only thing that existed for him now: the pain he had endured for so long had driven him to seek refuge in her, the one place where nothing could harm him. He had long since forgotten her name, although it had lingered hundreds of years after he had forgotten his own, but her image was imprinted upon every cell of his being. She was so much a part of him that only death could banish her from his heart and even that final journey could not erase her image from his soul.
As his body writhed in torment he withdrew deep into his own mind, remembering the sweet perfume of her hear and skin, remembering peace and joy and passion and, above all else, remembering love both given and received. Her memories of her were a little oasis of heaven that all the demons of Hell were unable to steal from him. As the centuries had passed his connection to the physical world had faded and he felt nothing outside his dreams of her.
Instead of his tormenters and the brutal prison he inhabited, he saw golden hair and loving hazel eyes, instead of the pain he felt only her gentle touch and soft lips and instead of his own anguished screams he heard only her voice, her tone tender as she spoke words he had long forgotten although their meaning remained clear.
Then, one day, something changed. For a long time he didn’t even notice; he was too deep within himself to register the fact that the pain had stopped but he gradually became aware that the sense of her presence was stronger, more solid than it had been before, and that her voice had changed. It was no longer a soothing litany of sounds that conveyed her love and demanded no response. Instead, the sounds repeated over and over again, still warm and loving but seeming to come from outside his fantasy, touching an ancient chord within his memory and demanding a response that he yearned to give but no longer knew how.
Fear made him turn away from the temptation and try to retreat into the safety of his fantasy but he could not shut her out. Time after time the loving understanding and, more importantly, the hidden pain in her voice drew him back to her until the day when her patience reaped its rewards and, instead of communicating in feelings alone with no intelligent responses, he thought hesitantly, “B...Buffy?”
Her delighted response surged round him, more than rewarding him for the risk he had taken and warming his soul with the feeling of her joy.
~~~
After he had made the initial effort to respond, with her help and support, he gradually learned to think in words once more, reconnecting the pathways of his memory that had been severed by time and torment. He accepted her assurance that his name was Angel and came to think of himself as such, though, despite the gradual return of his memory, the details of his own past remained locked away where they could cause him no pain. Neither of them knew how long it had been since she had come to him, of the years that had passed by unnoticed, nor did they care. Time had no meaning to the two lovers; all that mattered was each other.
It was a very long time before Buffy was able to coax Angel out of the sanctuary of his own mind, a long time before his trust in the reality of her presence and protection could outweigh the unremembered terrors that lay outside.
Close to panic, he followed her into the world outside his mind, ready to draw back at the first sign of danger. The warm surety of her love surrounded him, a protective blanket that kept the fear at bay as he extended his senses into the world around him and became aware, for the first time in many, many years, that he had a physical form.
At first he kept his eyes closed – like a child who believes that if he cannot see, he cannot be seen – as he took stock of what he was feeling. He could feel warmth touching his skin but it didn’t burn, there was no pain, only warmth and silence, much like the world within his mind. The thought gave him courage and he slowly opened his eyes.
A brilliant light dazzled him and he flinched, closing them against the brightness and staggering backwards until he lost his balance and fell, landing on something soft. He would have retreated then but the sound of her voice made him hesitate. The warm reassurance of her presence was still in his mind but her voice came from outside. Confusion tugged at him for a moment and he struggled to understand the significance of what he was hearing. Then he felt a gentle touch against his cheek, the same as, yet different from, the touch he knew so well in his mind.
His eyes opened instinctively and he looked up into the face he had seen so often in his heart. Her small hand cupped his cheek, her fingers stroking lovingly over his face as she said softly, “It’s alright, Angel, everything’s going to be alright. You’re safe now.”
Safe. The word settled into his soul as he looked into her eyes and a shudder of relief passed through him as he realised for the first time how afraid he had been that, if he were to open his eyes, she would leave.
With a choked sob, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, lying back against the soft grass of the meadow as he held her tightly against him. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he buried his face in the fragrant gold of her hair as he said brokenly, “I love you.”
“I love you,” she echoed. Her fingers slid upwards to thread though his hair and her grip tightened just enough to encourage him to raise his head. When he did so she arched against him and her lips touched his, so lightly it could have been his imagination if not for the surge of heat that the brief contact sent through his body.
His arms tightened around her and acting on instinct he rolled over so that she lay beneath him, her eyes glowing with love and trust and, unable to resist her, he lowered his head to capture her lips with his, their tongues meeting and tangling together as passion surged between them.
~~~
Afterwards, as they lay together in an exhausted tangle, Angel felt a sudden jolt run through him, like a spark of electricity and, at the same time, an image flashed into his mind. He was sitting in a car, looking out of the open window towards a school, and the girl in his arms was walking down the steps towards him, sucking on a bright red lollypop. With the image came the memory of how he had felt the first time he saw her, the way that his entire being had seemed energised just by being within a hundred yards of her. Close behind it came another image, and another, and another, until they were cascading into his mind too quickly for him to consciously process them all, they were simply there, as though he had never forgotten. And with the flood of memories came the awareness of just who and what he was. At first the memories were all of Buffy, their early attempts to deny the attraction between them, their first kiss, her discovery of his true nature, their tentative first steps towards a relationship.
It was as if, he later told Buffy, he had needed to be safe in her arms once more before his subconscious dared to allow any of his past to resurface. She seemed to understand what was happening, for she simply held him tightly against her, cradling his head on her breast as he shuddered and cried out while his past was reborn.
After the memories of her came the rest of his past, his childhood in Galway, his fateful meeting with Darla, the destruction he had wrought, the Curse and the anguish that followed it. And then came the last, and cruellest memory of all; the events following Buffy’s birthday ripped through his mind like a knife. The way he had taunted and tormented her, belittled the love they had shared, killed and injured her friends and then, there it was: Acathla. The demon’s image loomed up in his mind, overshadowing everything else, and he gasped out its name as the memory of what had happened that day shredded his heart like the talons of some great beast; he saw himself pulling out the sword; felt again the sudden confusion at the sight of Buffy standing over him with a sword; saw the disbelieving joy in her eyes, which had so quickly turned to grief; felt the soft touch of her hand against his face, her lips against his, followed but the sudden pain of the sword going through him and the look of total devastation on her face as he was pulled backwards into the swirling darkness of the vortex.
Unable to stand it any longer he pushed out of her arms and ran, uncaring of direction, wanting only to leave behind the pain and guilt that were rending his heart. Desperation tore at him as he remembered the look of pain of Buffy’s face, the look that he had put there when all he had ever wanted was to cherish her.
The memory of that look came between him and the expression of peace and pure love that she had worn only moments before and despair and self-loathing overwhelmed him.
The soft touch of her presence in his mind made his steps falter. There were no words, only a warm, comforting sensation of reassurance and understanding as she surrounded him with her love, wrapping him up in the same protective blanket that had given him the courage to emerge from the safety of his mental cocoon.
He tried to draw away from her, knowing that he did not deserve what she offered him so freely but it was a futile effort. Her presence was infinitely familiar, so right that it was impossible for him to fight it. They had spent too long locked together inside his mind as she coaxed him back from the edge for him to be able to deny her now.
A cry of anguish burst from his throat as his strength gave out. He fell to his knees in the lush grass, shaking so hard that he could no longer support himself. Dimly aware that Buffy had appeared before him and was cradling his bent head in her slender arms, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, holding on to her as though she were the only thing in the world that could keep him from being torn apart by the mental currents that lashed at him.
Just as he clung to her physically, he allowed her strength to support him mentally. His defences lay about him in ruins and she was his only link to sanity. As the memory of everything that he had done seethed within him, they walked together through the turbulent landscape of his mind; stopping at every painful memory so that she could lay her healing hands upon it.
As they revisited the past, Buffy was careful to keep her shields down, allowing him to feel her every response to what she saw. He showed her the darkest secrets of his soul and though she responded to what he showed her with pain, grief, sorrow, anger and even hatred of the demon that dwelled within him, through it all, her love never wavered.
She showed him his own life through her eyes and he was shocked to discover that, to her, he was a victim. A good man who had been handed a fate that he did not deserve but was doing the best he could despite being caught up in circumstances outside his control.
For the first time in his long life, he found himself utterly sure of another person’s love for him; she knew all that he was…and had not turned away. Always before, despite knowing that she cared for him, he had believed that her feelings would be unable to withstand the truth of the darkness that dwelled within him but now…
There was no longer any room for doubt and, for the first time, he was forced to consider the possibility that, if someone as pure and good as she was could care for him that deeply, he might not be as far beyond redemption as he had always believed.
The guilt over all that he had done remained, not even Buffy would ever be able to banish that completely, but, for the first time since he had been cursed, there was a measure of peace alongside it and a tentative hope that, with Buffy’s love to guide him, he might yet be able to make amends.
Exhaustion tugged at him and he lay back against the grass, carrying Buffy down with him until she rested with her cheek pillowed against his chest and one hand absently stroking through his hair and down his cheek. He inhaled deeply to draw her sweet scent into his lungs and, with her warm body filling his senses and the soft touch of her mind in his; he slept.
~~~
Angel awoke slowly, savouring the feel of Buffy in his arms and the warmth of the sun shinning down on his face. Without opening his eyes he reviewed everything that had happened the day before, the fear; the joy; the pain; the despair and the love. Love that had been forged in the hottest fires and emerged stronger than ever, tempered and tested by anguish and betrayal, a bright shining beacon that warmed his heart as the sun warmed his skin and had become his guiding star.
Before the though was fully formed, his eyes snapped open as he realised that if he was, indeed, lying in the sun, he should be burning, not comfortably warm.
For a moment the light dazzled him and he squinted against it, looking around to discover that he lay in the same sun-drenched meadow that he remembered from the day before. Then, he had not questioned it; having no knowledge of who and what he was, he’d had no idea of the impossibility of what he saw, and once his memory returned he had been too distressed, too overwhelmed by guilt and self-loathing over all he had done, to even notice his surroundings.
His skin crawled with a mixture of awe and fear; logically he knew that if the sun had been going to harm him he would already be ashes by now but the fear of more than two-hundred years could not easily be set aside. Looking down at the tousled blonde head resting against he shoulder, he discovered that Buffy’s eyes were open and she was watching him steadily.
Everything in him seemed to stop at the sight of her. The sun’s rays caught and tangled in her hair, touching it will glowing golden highlights. Her skin bore the rosy tint of sleep and he couldn’t resist reaching out and gently stroking his finger down her cheek to see if it could possibly be as soft as it looked – as soft as his memory told him it was. Everything that he had always loved about her appearance seemed to have been enhanced by the purity of the sun’s light but it was her eyes that made Angel’s heart clench in his chest. They seemed to be lit from within, glowing with love and greener than he had ever seen them; their usual hazel evidenced only by the lighter striations threaded through the rich emerald.
He had always regretted the fact that he was unable to see her in the sunlight but it wasn’t until this moment that he realised how much he had been missing, how much was lost in the moonlight – though that had its own magic – or under the harshness of electric lights.
If he’d needed to breathe her beauty would have left him breathless and, strangely, it was this that convinced him that he was still a vampire, although everything had somehow changed from the way it had been before. When he concentrated he could feel the demon within him, the strength that it gave him, the acuity of his senses that was far beyond that of a normal human, but he couldn’t hear it. For the first time since he had been turned, he was alone in his own mind and the ever-present hunger for warm, living, blood was gone.
Suddenly there were a thousand questions bursting within his mind, so many that he hardly knew where to begin.
“Where are we?” he asked at last, “The last thing that I remember clearly is…Acathla and then there are vague memories of being in the demon dimension but after that…nothing until you. How did you get me out?”
Buffy’s eyes were sad, “I didn’t,” she said softly, “I tried so hard to find a way to bring you back but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”
Angel’s brow creased in confused as he tried to fit her words into the reality that he saw around him, “I don’t understand. If you couldn’t get me out…?” A sudden thought struck him and he stopped mid-sentence. “Am I dead?” he asked after a moment; then his eyes widened in horror and he grasped her shoulders urgently as he added, “Are you?”
“No, you’re not dead,” she told him firmly, “and you know where we are.”
He barely heard the second half of her sentence; his mind had locked instantly on what she had not said. “I’m not dead?” he repeated hoarsely, “What about you?”
For the first time, Buffy looked away, reluctant to meet his eyes but Angel refused to allow her to avoid him. Releasing one of her shoulders, he cupped her chin in his large hand and gently raised her face until she had no choice but to look at him. “Buffy?” he asked again.
“I…don’t know,” she admitted in a low voice, “I might be.”
The possibility that he had lost his mind flashed through Angel’s head even as his eyes darkened with fear – for her. She seemed solid, seemed real, but she was able to do impossible things, like transport herself from one place to another, communicate without speaking and touch his very soul with hers and he, himself, was currently standing in the sun, unable to hear the demon, so how was it possible that this could be real – that he was alive (as much as he ever was, anyway) and she was not.
“No, Angel, you’re not crazy or dreaming and I am real,” Buffy told him, “I’m just…disconnected, I guess. I don’t really understand, so it’s kinda difficult for me to explain.”
“Disconnected?”
“Mm-hm, I’m…here but…” she hesitated, unsure if she should continue.
“But?”
“But…my body…isn’t.” She paused again and then added, “I think maybe I’m sort of like Billy was.”
“Billy? Who’s…? You mean the boy who made peoples nightmares into reality?”
She nodded, “Only he was…out of control and I’m…not.”
Angel was silent as he thought about what she had said. He remembered what Buffy had told him about Billy, remembered how grateful he had been that he had been out of town with Whistler when it happened since his greatest fear was that his demon would be set free. A sad smile twisted his lips; in the end it hadn’t mattered – his nightmare had come true anyway, in a way that he could never have imagined.
Recognising where his thoughts had taken him, Buffy stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her naked body against his equally unclothed flesh. As she had intended, her action snapped Angel back to the present and he released her shoulder to hold her tightly against him, savouring the sensations that flooded through him due to having her so close. With a great effort he gently urged her away from him and looked around for their clothes, still needing the answers to a great many questions and knowing that, if they didn’t cover up and put a little distance between one another, it would be hours before they talked again.
Their clothes were nowhere to be seen. Angel looked at Buffy, noticing that she didn’t seem the least bit surprised. She grinned impishly at him and then, in the blink of an eye, she wore a short red dress, with a flowing skirt and a low cut bodice held up by nothing more two thin straps. Looking down at himself, Angel discovered that he, too, was suddenly dressed – in a blood-red velvet shirt and black leather trousers.
Buffy’s eyes roamed over him approvingly and she gave him a smug smile.
“You can reshape reality any way you choose,” murmured Angel in awe, “that’s why I’m not being harmed by the sun!” Angel didn’t hear Buffy’s quiet agreement, instead her earlier words echoed in his head: ‘You know where we are’. Fear filled him as it dawned on him that she had spoken the truth – he was very much afraid that he did, indeed, know where they were.
“Show me reality, Buffy!” he demanded hoarsely, “Show me where we are!”
Reluctantly, knowing that the truth would shatter the beauty of their encounter but aware that she couldn’t keep it from him, Buffy focused her thoughts and, with more difficulty than she had expected, gradually stripped away the changes that she had made, leaving only the brutal, ugly reality of the demon dimensions. Instead of lush grass and sunshine, there was bare rock and sullen red/purple sky, which gave everything a dark, nightmarish hue, as though the whole world were smeared with blood. In the very centre of the place where their meadow had been, there was a vast slab of rock, with the shattered remains of the chains that had bound him still attached to the corners, and embedded deep within it, like some perverted version of the sword in the stone, was the sword with which Buffy had sent him to this place.
“Oh God!” Angel’s voice was barely audible as he looked at the place where he had endured so much for so long. “No!” He backed away, unable to tear his eyes from the stone, “No…”
A rock turned beneath his foot and he fell heavily, but he didn’t pause, scrambling backwards in a desperate effort to get away from the nightmare that had suddenly swallowed him whole. His eyes were wild; wide and panicked like those of an animal that had been caught in a trap and was willing to mutilate its own body in order to get free.
His reaction was pure instinct; he remembered little of what had happened to him after Acathla had closed; his conscious mind had locked away the memory, refusing to face a pain so deep that it could destroy him if he were to try, but his subconscious remembered. Deep in his soul he knew everything that had happened to him, everything that he had suffered, and the sight of the brutal world around him filled him with pure terror. Squeezing his eyes closed to shut out the world, he curled in on himself, trying to shield himself from what was to come, though he knew deep inside that it was futile.
A soft touch on his shoulder made him cringe and lash out in an effort to escape his tormentors. The blow never landed, his fist was caught and held as easily as though he had no more strength than a fly but the expected pain never came.
Instead, there was the touch of something soft against his knuckles and a soothing warmth in his soul. Suspended between hope and fear, he remained motionless, afraid to do anything that would trigger the punishment that he feared.
As time passed and nothing happened, the flashback receded. Gradually he became aware that he could feel warmth on his back and he could hear a soft voice and, though he couldn’t make out the words, it seemed to throb with grief and pain. Cautiously, he cracked open one eye and was greeted by the sight of lush green grass and cheerfully blooming meadow flowers.
Shudders wracked his body as reaction set in, and for a while he lay motionless, concentrating on the blades of grass before him as he tried to accept that fact that, for whatever reason, he was, for the moment, safe. The soft voice continued, and the need to respond to its anguished sound tugged at him through the cocoon of shock that had formed around him and he looked around for its source.
Buffy knelt beside him, gently stroking his hair, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth in an unconscious motion. She had the hand with which he had tried to strike her clasped tightly in hers; holding it against her face and rubbing her cheek against it like an affectionate cat. He could feel the reassuring touch of her mind against his, infinitely familiar after so long, but it was oddly muted, as though she had raised a barrier between them that had never been there before.
She was speaking so quietly that he had to strain to hear her words, her voice hoarse and broken as she repeated over and over again, “I’m sorry, Angel, this is all my fault; I should have found another way! I did this to you; it’s my fault! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
Shocked, Angel stared at her, unable to speak as, for the first time, he realised that he was not the only one to feel responsible for everything that had happened. Not the only one to have been tormented by the guilt of what they had done. In his mind, she was blameless, innocent of any crime, and it had never occurred to him that she might not see things the same way – though it should have done. His demon had delighted in reminding Buffy of how it had come to be released, never letting her forget for a moment that it had been her love that set it free once more.
She had done everything in her power to ease his burden, to show him that the actions of the demon were not his fault. She had shown him her soul, proving beyond doubt that she saw him as the victim, not the villain of what had happened but even then she had kept her own pain hidden. Carrying her burden of guilt and self-hated in silence in an effort to spare him greater pain, not believing herself worthy of the comfort that she had given him so freely.
“No,” he said hoarsely as he sat up, forcing his shaking muscles to support him, as he used her grip on his hand to pull her gently into his arms, “You did what had to be done and I’m proud of you for it.”
She made a muffled sound of disagreement against his chest but he didn’t give her a chance to argue. “Proud,” he repeated firmly, “What you did took more courage than I’ll ever have and you saved countless lives by doing it. Do you think I would have wanted you to make any other choice? Nothing could have kept me from coming here…at least this way I was the only one.”
“I should have taken your hand!” she burst out, lifting her head to look at him, ‘I cost you your soul and then I sent you here and you reached out for me at the end, and there was such love and trust and confusion in your eyes and I should have gone to you! I should have gone with you…” she fell silent, her voice choked by the tears that she could no longer suppress.
A violent shudder wracked Angel’s body and his arms tightened convulsively around her; “NO!” he exclaimed, horrified at the idea that she might have been forced to endure what he had gone through, “Don’t ever wish that Buffy! Do you think I would have wanted you go though that? Do you think we’d even have been allowed to be together? Being forced to watch you suffer would have destroyed me!” He paused, looking down at her. All he could see was the top of her head, her face hidden against him and he could feel the warmth of her tears as they soaked into his shirt.
“You were always with me, Buffy,” he told her softly, “You know that; you’ve seen my heart. You were my sanctuary, my refuge, my light against the darkness. Even though I thought I’d never see you again, you gave me hope and peace.”
Angel cupped her cheek in his hand and, with the gentle pressure of his thumb against her chin, tipped her face up towards his. Guilty, tear-washed hazel eyes were transfixed by the look of pure love in the velvety soft brown eyes that looked back. For just a second, Buffy hesitated, afraid to believe that what she saw in his eyes was real and then, to Angel’s relief, he felt the last of the barriers between them crumble and fall and their souls met in the joyous union of two halves becoming whole. As softly as a falling snowflake, Angel touched his lips to hers in a kiss, not of passion, but of dedication; a promise that they would never be apart again.
“I love you,” he said softly as he raised his head, “Nothing can change that…not even death.”
Buffy smiled, and it was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm, “And I love you, Angel…always.”
For a long time they simply held one another, content simply to be together, but at length, a thought intruded upon Angel’s mind. He tried to push it away, unwilling to face its implications so soon after he and Buffy had truly found one another once more – had finally found the peace that had been denied them for so long – but it refused to leave and at last he gave a reluctant sigh and pulled back just far enough to look down into Buffy’s face.
She rested against his chest, her eyes closed, breathing deeply, drawing the scent of his skin deep into her lungs and savouring the sensation of being surrounded by him, surrounded by love. Her eyes opened slowly as he pulled away, a frown creasing her brow as she sensed the disquiet that was suddenly welling within him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously, cupping his cheek in her hand as she looked into his eyes.
“You can’t stay here, Buffy,” Angel told her sadly, “Giles and the other’s need you – the world needs you!”
“No!”
Buffy’s arms tightened around him in desperation as her eyes filled with fear, “I won’t leave you! I won’t lose you again! I belong with you!”
“Buffy…”
“No! I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to get back, but even if it is, I won’t go back without you and that’s final.” Her eyes filled with tears once more, as she whispered, “Losing you again would kill me, Angel; don’t you know by now that my heart can’t beat if you’re not there?”
The connection between them flared to life once more, and Angel’s mind was suddenly filled with the memory of everything that Buffy had endured in his absence, the emptiness, the pain, the desire to end it all; and he shuddered as he realised just how close she had come to breaking.
Acting purely on instinct, his arms tightened around her in a grip that would have crushed any normal human, as he buried his face against her neck and muttered broken promises, that he would never let her go. At the same time, his soul reached out for hers, shielding it protectively with his own.
In an instant, passion flared between them and Angel tumbled Buffy backwards into her fragrant grass, his strong arms cushioning her from the impact, and covered her body with his own.
~~~
Later, their passion momentarily spent, they lay in each other’s arms, savouring the overwhelming feeling of rightness engendered by the connection between them. Opening her eyes, Buffy gazed contentedly up at Angel but from her reclining position, all she could see was the underside of his strong jaw. Rising up on one elbow so she could get a better view, she gave into temptation and ran her finger up the length of his arm and down across the chiselled planes of his chest, testing the tensile strength of the muscles cording beneath her touch.
“Careful,” Angel warned her playfully, and then pounced, rolling her onto her back and pinning her to the grass with both hands. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to let sleeping vampires lie?”
Laughing, she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down until he was stretched out on top of her, covering her slight body completely with his much larger frame. She sighed, relishing the feel of him against her skin.
Angel kissed her softly and then started to move, afraid that his weight might be uncomfortable for her.
“No, don’t,” Buffy begged, holding him in place on top of her.
“But I’m too heavy,” he protested.
“No, I like it, please stay.”
Surprised by the intensity behind her words, Angel braced his forearms on either side of her head and rose up to gaze down at her face. He cupped her cheek, feathering tiny little kisses across her mouth until she was gasping for breath and yearning for more.
“Tell me why?”
Lost in what he was doing to her pulse rate, she almost forgotten what they’d been discussing.
“Why what?” she murmured.
“Why you like me to lie on top of you like this.”
Buffy turned her head slightly to plant a tender kiss on his arm before looking back into his eyes with a smile, “Well, first because it’s you, and because I love you,” she said.
“And…”
Her smile faded and she admitted hesitantly, “Because it makes me feel…safe.”
He shook his head, almost laughing at her answer, “Safe? How can me squashing you halfway into the ground make you feel safe?”
Her eyes filled with tears and she said softly, “Because when I’m holding you like this I don’t have to be strong, I don’t have to be the protector. You lie between me and the world I have to fight for.”
Oh, Buffy. He was too full of emotion to speak but his feelings echoed in her mind as he lowered himself back down onto the grass, feeling the imprint of her body against him and letting himself be where she needed him to be.
“Always,” he whispered, and held her close.
~~~
Angel slept peacefully; the traumatic mixture of guilt and terror, grief and pain and joy and even the knowledge that he was finally safe had all taken their toll and he had finally given into exhaustion.
Buffy remained wakeful. Angel’s words about leaving their sanctuary refused to leave her mind, making it impossible for her to relax. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that he was right – they could not stay there. Not for her sake, or for Giles or the others, but for his. What if her body was still alive in Sunnydale? What would happen when it died? Would she disappear, along with everything she had created, leaving Angel to face the rest of eternity in agony?
She didn’t know, but the mere possibility was enough to convince her that, no matter what the cost, Angel must be free. And cost there would be. Buffy didn’t know if she was alive or dead. If she were dead, there was no guarantee that she could remain with Angel outside this place and if she were alive, then their connection would be broken when they returned. They would each, once again, be alone. Their souls would no longer be able to merge into a single, indescribably beautiful whole. Their bodies would be unable to touch for fear of the curse breaking once more. Just the thought of such isolation made her want to weep with loneliness and loss and to scream to the heavens at the unfairness of it all. She and Angel belonged together and yet they must forever remain apart.
With deep reluctance, Buffy eased out from beneath Angel’s encircling arm and got to her feet. She didn’t even know if what she intended to do was possible. She had been able to reach Angel due to an overwhelming need to be with him once more. There was no such need drawing her back to Sunnydale; this time she would be fighting herself, fighting her own selfish desire to remain where they were.
Turning, she looked back at Angel’s sleeping face. A surge of love swept through her and she dropped to her knees at his side, reaching out to gently touch his face. His skin had absorbed the heat of the sun beneath which he lay, providing the illusion of living warmth. The peace in his face brought tears to her eyes and, for a moment, her resolve wavered – there could be no peace once they had returned.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy forced herself to remember the terrible consequences that had flowed from the last time she had placed her desires above what needed to be done, the terrible price that he had paid for her failure. Nothing could be more important than ensuring that he could never again be forced to suffer for her sins.
Still touching his cheek, she closed her eyes and concentrated upon that thought. Nothing existed except the need to spare Angel pain.
For several seconds, nothing happened; then a tingling sensation flowed through her, like a minor electric shock, and she slowly opened her eyes. At first glance, nothing had changed and disappointment in her failure threatened to break her concentration. Then she saw it, a slight distortion with hints of gold, swirling in the air above the very centre of the meadow, the place where Angel had been imprisoned for so long.
As she concentrated, the strength and purity of her love for him flooded through the connection between them and Angel’s eyes fluttered open.
“Buffy?” he whispered questioningly.
Her eyes flickered from the distortion to his face, her expression taut with the strain of what she was attempting to do. For a fraction of a second, she allowed her concentration to waver as she projected loving reassurance and a desperate plea for patience to him but she could not speak without severing her tenuous connection to the vortex.
His eyes fixed lovingly on her face; Angel lifted her hand from his cheek and pressed a tender kiss into her small palm before sitting up and entwining his fingers with hers, his actions eloquently expressing his trust in her.
The possibility that, if she succeeded in what she was trying to do, he would never again be able to touch her without fear of the consequences pierced her heart with razor sharp talons, threatening to shatter her concentration.
Sensing her thoughts, Angel sat up, lifted her small body into his lap and held her tightly in his arms as he murmured softly, “Look around us, Buffy. Even in Hell, you brought me Heaven! No matter what happens or where we are, we will always find a way.”
His words calmed her momentary panic and sent a surge of emotion through her that was so strong she almost glowed. Deliberately, she channelled everything she felt into the vortex before her and slowly, almost imperceptibly, it began to expand.
~~~
The tingle Buffy felt increased steadily as the portal grew larger and more stable, changing from mild discomfort to a thousand knives stabbing into every part of her. Fighting not to collapse she continued to pour more and more of herself into the slowly opening portal.
She tried to keep what was happening to her from Angel, but they were too closely connected for her even being to keep him out without the portal collapsing – she simply didn’t have the strength.
Closing her ears to Angel’s desperate pleas for her to stop, Buffy channelled everything that she was into the vortex, holding nothing back. The pain reached a crescendo, culminating in a scream that was ripped from the very centre of her soul – a scream that she was completely unaware of – and then faded away leaving her physically numb and her thoughts distant and unreal, like the memory of a dream.
Slowly, she forced her bleary eyes to focus on the vortex, afraid that what she had done might not be enough – and she had no strength left.
Relief filtered through her at the sight before her. It swirled in the air above the meadow, a golden disc a little over two meters in diameter – the door that would take Angel home was open. Only then did she allow herself to look into his beloved face. He was crouched at her side, panic in his eyes, and her name on his lips, his hand extended towards her.
Wanting to ease his fear for her, she weakly lifted one hand towards him, the actions awkward as she tried to control her nerveless limbs. Her motion faltered as she realised that her hand had a ghostly, translucent appearance. Cautiously, she reached out to touch his cheek and knew she should have been shocked when her hand passed through him as though he were made of smoke – or she was – but she felt nothing but a hazy sense of mild surprise.
Forcing herself to think, she tried to speak but her voice wouldn’t come. Fear touched her as she looked towards the vortex once more and noticed that it had begun to shrink once more – slowly it was true, but it could not belong before Angel’s chance to return was gone.
*Go!* She thought with as much urgency as she could muster, *You have to leave now!*
*Not without you* he returned fiercely.
*Damn it! I’ll be right behind you, now go!*
He didn’t move from his position by her side and she could see clearly that he would never leave her, never risk that she might be trapped here without him.
Glancing desperately at the shrinking portal, Buffy wasted no more time trying to convince him; instead she focused once more, pulling herself back from the oblivion she sensed waiting for her, drawing on the love between them, taking strength from Angel and using reserves she would have sworn she did not posses in order to get to her feet.
Angel hovered anxiously at her side, wanting desperately to carry her but their inability to touch physically meant that there was nothing he could do.
With every step she took, she faded further, using up strength that she could ill-afford to spare. She could feel Angel’s desire to stop, his belief that returning was not worth risking her, but she refused to consider it. Having given so much to get him home, she would not allow her own weakness to bar his way.
It seemed to take forever for them to cover the short distance to the portal and by the time they reached it, it had contracted to less than half its original size. There was no longer room for them to pass through together – one of them would have to go first.
*You have to go, Angel* Buffy thought wearily, *we don’t know what will happen once I leave here*
*No!* Angel was as adamant as before.
Buffy opened her mouth to argue, only to close it again without speaking as a sudden thought occurred to her.
*Then we go together*
Without further explanation, she moved towards him, closer and closer until her ghostly form disappeared completely within the greater mass of his. Her soul clung to his, with all her remaining strength, a fragile anchor holding them together, letting his strength carry them both.
*Now go* she commanded. *I’m with you*
Angel didn’t argue, he took a slow step forwards to reassure himself that she would stay with him and then, when he was sure that she would not be left behind, he dived into the heart of the vortex.
As their meadow span away behind them, he was reassured by the continuing faint touch of Buffy’s soul against his. They fell for what seemed like a long time, tossed by the currents that flowed through wherever it was they were; clinging together like survivors from a shipwreck would cling to a scrap of wood but Angel was agonisingly aware that Buffy was weakening. He tried to anchor her, tried to give her his strength, but there was so little of her left that he could not hold her.
*I love you…always…*
Buffy’s final thought whispered though Angel’s mind like a benediction and then she was gone, leaving behind a silence that was more profoundly terrifying than anything he had ever known.
Ever since she had first come to him in the darkness of his own mind, bringing light by her very presence, the two of them had been connected. The gentle, comforting touch of her mind within his, the warmth of her love surrounding him, had become so familiar that he could barely remember a time when they had not been there.
But now, suddenly, he was alone…and the pain of their separation was almost more than he could bear.
As the portal ejected him into the empty stillness of his apartment, the silence was shattered by the cry of a soul in torment.
“BUFFY!!”
*~*~*~*~*~*
THE END
To Be Continued in…
RESTORATION
(Working title)
Part Three of: The Mirror Trilogy
I'm a feedback junkie; please help me get my fix!
I have not stopped working on Sacrifice and the next part should be out soon.