by Cynamin

Part Two

Things fell into a pattern pretty quickly after Buffy moved into Angel’s lair. In the day, Angel slept and Buffy made herself at home. She was true to her word and made her presence very noticeable. Her first day there she went out and bought herself a mattress, a couple of blankets, and some food with what little money she had. The mattress and blankets took up space in a corner; the food found a slot next to the blood in the fridge.

Also, just like she said, she began to go through the piles of stuff Angel had collected over the years. That was a task where it was difficult just to figure out where to start. She couldn’t even read a good chunk of the stuff. Eventually she began to separate things into three basic piles: personal writings and sketches, books, and other stuff she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

She hesitated at first at going through Angel’s personal things. But days went by and he never looked at them or paid any attention to Buffy. She got tired of talking to herself or staring at walls in the daytime. So she began to read what she was organizing. She had to be careful with some of them – so old the paper was incredibly fragile. And her nosiness did stop at one point – she couldn’t bring herself to read his journals. He’d apparently kept them for quite a while, sporadically at times. In the last of his journals his handwriting rapidly deteriorated and then the entries abruptly stopped. Buffy could only guess that was due to the changes in his hands – it couldn’t be easy to write with claws.

Buffy frowned. Had it been as long since he had read the texts in his possession? Had it been as long since he’d spoken to anyone?

Maybe it was no wonder that his mental state was questionable. He’d been a total recluse for possibly centuries.

Other clues came in the form of sketches. There were several pleasant images – people, friends...even a couple of herself, to Buffy’s surprise. Those were vastly outnumbered, however, by more horrific images – demons and victims. Angel himself, but not as Buffy remembered him or how he appeared now. Monstrous distortions she only knew as him by other writing and details on the pages. It was an obsession with self, Buffy began to recognize. Angel had always had an awareness of his self-image. The black-on-black clothing, the massive classic convertible...Angel always had an image, and that image was strong, mysterious, and human.

Buffy could only imagine what he’d gone through when his appearance had begun to change.

So, that was her daytime. There was so much to go through that she’d made very little visible progress. In nighttime, when Angel woke, Buffy stayed with him. She was a step behind him wherever he went. She fought next to him when he fought handfuls of demons and vampires every night.

Whether or not he actively acknowledged her presence, Buffy began to realize that he was aware of her. His behavior shifted ever so slightly, and every little bit served to reassure Buffy. After that first night Angel didn’t again strip in front of her. After about a week Buffy noticed the return of Angel’s old habit of unnecessary breath.

Appearances.

Most noticeable, though, was the shift in Angel’s fighting style. Ever so slightly he accommodated someone else fighting with him. It was almost like old times, if a whole lot quieter.

Two weeks after she had first felt Angel in the depths of The Underground, she followed him as he returned there once again on an errand for blood. The back door was closed, and she watched with some surprise as he produced an old key and slipped it easily into the lock. The door opened silently, and Buffy slipped in behind him.

She watched as Angel slipped through the pitch-black storage room they’d entered to approach the door to the main bar. There was a small window set into the door, and he paused in front of it briefly before slipping into deeper shadow.

Moments later the door opened. The same bar tender who’d been working there last time Buffy was there stood in the doorway and blinked into the darkness. He held another cold box in front of him. He did not leave the comfort of the pale light of the doorway, but looked into the darkness for Angel. When his gaze fell upon Buffy he gasped.

Buffy winked at him.

The bar tender was obviously flustered as he passed the cooler to Angel. Angel never emerged completely from the shadows as he took the blood and disappeared through the back door.

Buffy hesitated. If last time were any indicator, he’d head right back to his lair with the food for the next two weeks. Buffy could easily catch up with him again there. It might be nice to have some human company for a little while.

The bar tender was still standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here, Slayer?”

Buffy grinned, stepping towards him. “I don’t know,” she said. “I thought maybe I could get a drink. That is what you serve here, right?”

He looked back and forth for a moment between Buffy and the door Angel had disappeared through. “What are you doing with him?” he asked suspiciously.

“He’s an old friend.”

The bar tender had an odd expression on his face. “I wasn’t aware he had any friends,” he said.

“He used to,” Buffy replied honestly.

The bar tender looked at her seriously for a long moment. “Well,” he said at last, “are you going to have a drink or not?”

Buffy felt a gnaw of unexpected guilt at leaving Angel on his own. Just because he wasn’t the best company right now didn’t mean she should abandon him without a word. Abruptly that feeling was joined by the sharp pull of something else. “I can’t!” she said quickly.

“But I thought...”

“I’m needed,” Buffy said mostly to herself and rushed out the door after Angel.

The familiar sounds of violence met Buffy almost immediately, plus a horrible stench. She paused only long enough for her eyes to readjust to the total darkness behind the bar then took off at a run.

She rounded the corner to see Angel trading blows with three demons. Each was taller than him by about two feet and was two large people wide. Buffy had never seen Angel so dwarfed by essentially ‘normal’ demons. The blood he’d been carrying was carelessly spilled against one wall. For the moment Angel was keeping the demons at arms length, but they were bigger, likely stronger, had wicked looking claws, and outnumbered him. Even his incredible strength would not save him easily.

Damn it, she shouldn’t have left him alone.

Buffy drew her sword from her back and jumped into the fray. She swung her weapon wildly before the nearest demon even knew she was there. The large blade barely scratched its heavily scaled back. The demon turned on her, absolutely furious. It was one less demon for Angel to deal with, but Buffy was not liking this situation.

Keeping the sword in front of her, Buffy focused entirely on evading the demon’s claws. It was like trying to parry ten daggers at once. Even if she could hurt it, she couldn’t take her attention away from those claws long enough to inflict any damage.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Angel go down, then come up moments later with a rusted metal rod. He swung it wildly at one of the demon’s heads, making it rear back dazed. Before it could recover, he drove the pole into its eye.

The demon screamed, staggering back from the vampire. The other two demons looked at it, alarmed. Buffy took the momentary distraction to follow Angel’s lead, lunging in with her sword and aiming for the nearest demon’s eye. She connected, but didn’t get the damaging blow she wanted before the demon returned its full attention on her, screaming and flailing in startled pain.

She barely had time to be surprised before the demon’s claws caught her across the abdomen. After that it was like everything happened in slow motion. Lines of pain erupted as she fell away from the demon, only to be replaced by a spreading numbness. Distractedly she heard a different roar, followed by a scream from the third demon. Then nothing but running feet, followed by silence.

She knew she’d been seriously injured and was likely in shock, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She could feel the coldness of pavement under her and the spreading warmth of her own blood. At least she didn’t see any demons at the moment. Maybe they’d run away or something.

A face swam into her blurring vision. Buffy had never been so relieved to see golden, vampiric eyes. “Angel,” she gasped.

She just hoped distractedly that wasn’t the last thing she was going to say.

She was just so tired....

Blood.

Oh, God, he could smell her blood!

Panic was hammering at Angel in waves, but instead of making him freeze it spurred him into action. It suddenly didn’t matter if she was a figment of his imagination or not. If she were, then soon he’d know for sure. If she wasn’t, then he couldn’t lose her. He was surrounded by her heartbeat and her scent twenty-four hours a day. She followed him and fought by his side. He found himself terrified at the prospect of losing that. Losing her.

Cradled against him, she didn’t feel like a hallucination at all. She felt very solid and very real. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest almost as if it was his own. He could smell her blood, too thick in the air – he remembered what that smelled like, and this was real. The panic suppressed any hunger he might have felt at that smell in a different situation.

Angel ran, keeping to the darkest shadows where he could, running faster than a human could possibly match. There was a clinic he’d taken unconscious injured to before. That’s where he was taking Buffy. He couldn’t just leave her, though. He had to know she would be okay. She had to be okay.

For the first time Angel did not slow as he came near the clinic. He didn’t hesitate as he neared people, but held Buffy closer as he barreled through the front doors.

There was a moment’s hesitation just inside the door. A young nurse gaped at his entrance, frozen. Angel came to a stop, uncertain for a second. This wouldn’t do at all. As fear overwhelmed him, he couldn’t even tell how Buffy was doing anymore. His fear blocked his sense of her heartbeat. She needed help now.

He locked eyes with the nurse, and she took an inadvertent step back. This wouldn’t do at all.

“Help her,” he growled.

There was a strange atmosphere in the clinic, to be sure. Doctor Hasna tried to remain unaffected, but everyone had been jumpy since the vampire had shown up at the door. The girl was resting comfortably now – surgery had been easier than Hasna had expected. Now she was the only one willing to approach the vampire to talk to him about the girl’s injuries.

She didn’t need to ask where the vampire was. Simple observation showed one room that staff was passing just a little faster and a little warily. It was a small lounge, often used by members of the clinic staff to rest when they were too exhausted to make it home. For the moment, it was a place of seclusion for a very worried elder vampire.

Doctor Hasna had to fight her own hesitancy to approach that door. The clinic treated demons as well as humans on occasion, so while vampires very rarely needed her attention, she was familiar with their existence. She’d never seen a vampire quite like this before, though.

With a deep breath she opened the door to the pitch-dark room. “Hello?” she called hesitantly. She closed the door behind her and turned on the light. The vampire was suddenly starkly obvious – all in black on a background of hospital white. He blinked at her in the sudden brightness. His elbows were on his knees and Hasna had the impression his head had been in his hands only moments before.

She swallowed hard to calm herself. “I’m Doctor Hasna,” she greeted as gently as she could. “I need to speak to you about the young woman you brought in.”

The vampire nodded and sat up straighter.

The doctor hesitated for a second. She didn’t know what to expect of this vampire. There was nothing typical about him or his behavior thus far. Hasna approached him cautiously. “First off,” she said, “could you tell me her name?”

The vampire didn’t seem to understand what she was asking at first. Then he swallowed audibly. “Buffy,” he said. His tone was softer than she expected, like he was uncertain of his own voice. “Buffy Anne Summers.”

Hasna smiled, trying to be as reassuring as possible as she would for any concerned loved one. Not that the same thing usually went for vampires, especially when it came to a mortal. She took nothing for granted, though. “How about your name?” she asked lightly.

“Angel,” the vampire said, only a bit more confidently.

She didn’t let the vampire’s incongruous name faze her. “Alright, Angel. Well, whatever got to Buffy did a pretty bad number on her stomach. It managed to cause some significant muscle damage.”

Angel tensed. “She’s okay?” he asked urgently.

Hasna was startled by the sudden force of feeling in the vampire’s brown eyes. “She’ll be fine. A little scarred.”

His entire body relaxed and the slightest hint of a grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “Can I see her?” he asked.

The doctor had to think about it for a second, remembering the general unease currently prevailing in the clinic. She thought about the injured girl currently resting in a private room, the victim of a demon’s attack, and the fact that she was actually considering letting a vampire into her company. And then there was the fact that this vampire was responsible for the girl’s life, and the concern he obviously felt over her well-being. Hasna didn’t think it was possible to fake that.

She brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. She smiled. “I’ll take you to her,” she said.

Buffy awoke slowly. Her head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, but she wasn’t in pain. *Good drugs,* she thought. Either that or her wounds had killed her, and she wasn’t ready to contemplate the second option.

Her eyes opened on blank whiteness, and for a moment Buffy panicked. She was so used to darkness. This was wrong.

Then things came into focus and Buffy knew her surroundings for what they were: a hospital room. She sighed. It was so quiet, not at all like the hospital back in Sunnydale. She looked around to try and catch the other changes time had wrought.

Her eyes caught something else instead. Someone... Leaning against the wall, his head was down in repose. She couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. She hadn’t expected him to be here. Hell, considering his behavior since they met in the street weeks ago, she was lucky he’d acknowledged her presence enough to get her medical care. She assumed he was the one who brought her here....

“Angel,” she found herself whispering despite her consistent lack of response.

This time he surprised her. His head shot up at the sound of her voice and within seconds he was at her bedside. His eyes locked with hers and Buffy found herself smiling despite their surroundings.

“Buffy.”

For a second Buffy thought she imagined his whisper. He spoke! She grinned even wider. “Hey, stranger,” she said happily. “Long time no see.”

He blinked at her for a second. His eyes were back to the old familiar brown instead of the vampire gold she’d gotten used to in recent weeks. It made her feel unexpectedly comfortable and reassured. It was like Angel was suddenly once again present behind those eyes.

“Buffy,” he said again, clearer this time.

Buffy sensed the unspoken question in that one word. “Yeah,” she said gently, “it’s me.” She raised a hand to touch his face, but he shied away just before she could connect. “Hey,” she said again, whispering this time, “it’s me.”

He sat back, just slightly out of reach. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” Buffy said as gently as she could. It was so nice to hear his voice again, even distorted by his fangs. “Come on, Angel, don’t pull away from me.”

He scooted the room’s only chair closer to the bed. Carefully, afraid she’d scare him away, Buffy placed her hand on his own. She could feel him tense as if to pull away for a second, and then relax. “There,” she said happily. “Isn’t that better?”

He kept his gaze locked on their hands. “How?” he asked simply.

Buffy knew what he was asking. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

He looked flustered, as if trying to reconcile reality with what he thought reality was supposed to be. “You died,” he said after a while.

Buffy didn’t know quite how to respond to that. “Not that I remember,” she faltered. “I just...went to sleep in Sunnydale and woke up here.” She chuckled to herself. “Well, not here...in the city, you know? In this time. Whatever.” She shrugged, and Angel smiled ever so slightly.

He looked at their hands again. “You’ve really been here?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I’ve been here,” she said. “Last couple of weeks, pretty much 24/7. Though I must say I like this new talkative Angel more than the Angel zombie I was starting to think I was living with.”

Angel would have blushed if he could have. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that,” Buffy pointed out easily. “You don’t need to apologize. Though I wouldn’t mind an explanation for this sudden turn-around.”

Again Angel faltered. “You’re real,” he managed at last.

“That’s all it took?”

He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t.... I needed....”

“Take your time,” Buffy said gently. She looked at him curiously. “How long has it been since you...even spoke with anyone?”

Angel’s brow furrowed in though. “Long,” he said simply.

Buffy squeezed his hand. “Well then...”

At that moment a woman with long black hair and a doctor’s coat entered the room. “Good morning, Buffy,” she said. “How good to see you awake.”

Buffy watched in surprise as Angel sat back in his chair, fading into the background once again. It was like a switch had been flipped and he was suddenly reverting to his behavior of the last two weeks. He was abruptly and instantly out of reach.

She swallowed, unsure of what to do about this – what she could do, even – and glanced at the doctor. “Hello,” she said, acknowledging the woman briefly. She looked back at Angel once again.

The doctor came the rest of the way into the room, stood next to the bed, and to Buffy’s surprise smiled at the vampire trying to blend into the chair. “Have you been here all night, Angel?” she asked gently.

Angel jumped slightly, startled back from wherever he’d gone. “Yes,” he replied easily.

The doctor turned her smile back on Buffy. “I’m Doctor Hasna,” she introduced herself. “That demon really did a number on you.”

Buffy’s hand went to her bandaged stomach. “I guess so,” she said. “They were tougher demons than we usually expect to encounter.”

Doctor Hasna looked shocked. “You were expecting demons? Why?”

“Someone has to fight them,” Buffy replied.

“Both of you?”

Buffy nodded and smiled at the doctor’s obvious shock.

“You didn’t tell me that,” the doctor directed at Angel.

“You didn’t ask,” he replied.

The doctor seemed to be having serious thoughts, but she shook them off and smiled at Buffy once again. “Well, you’re going to be fine. I’d like to keep you here one more day. Once I release you, take it easy on the demon hunting for a while, yes?”

Buffy frowned. What else was she supposed to do?

“Angel?” the doctor tried.

He looked at her questioningly.

“I don’t want her fighting demons with or without you for at least a week,” Doctor Hasna insisted.

Angel nodded. “She won’t.”

Buffy pouted.

“All right. At the end of that week, you need to come back so I can do a final check on you, okay?”

Buffy nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

The doctor smiled. “I’ll see both of you later,” she said calmly, and left the room again.

Buffy sighed and sank back into her bed. “I’ve told you how much I hate hospitals, right?”

“No,” Angel replied.

“Well, I do,” Buffy complained. “Something’s going on. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

On to Part Three

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