This was becoming a routine, and Angel found he liked that. Every morning the nightmares woke him just before sunrise. He wouldn’t try to go back to sleep, however, because within minutes Buffy would be knocking on the office door. He was always upstairs and waiting for her. They would then go into the apartment and have breakfast together.
Sometimes, Cordelia or Wesley was there as well, but mostly it was Buffy. They didn’t do much, mostly just sat and talked, not about the past but about the present. Empty, light hearted things. It was mostly Buffy who spoke; Angel was still nearly silent, though he felt more comfortable when she was around. Sometimes they would watch television or Angel would read from his own rather extensive library. Buffy insisted that hadn’t changed – that he’d always spent much of his time reading. Though for all he remembered these books were completely new to him.
Finally, just as the sun went down, Buffy would leave once again. It always saddened him slightly to see her go, though he didn’t know how to tell her that. But, just like the sun, she was sure to return the next morning.
It was one of those typical days, though both of them were…antsier than usual. Angel sat in his large comfortable chair, a book in his lap. He wasn’t paying that much attention to it, though. Instead, his mind was on last night’s dreams. He never spoke about what he dreamt to Buffy; he didn’t want to worry her. But the dreams disturbed him.
He might have thought that his memories could be showing themselves as dreams while he slept, had they not been so out of touch with reality. Oh, sometimes the dreams were mundane enough, hazy scenes of everyday life, family and friends. Those dreams were vague, but what he did remember was the heavily accented voices and the overwhelming sensation that this was a time long past. He never remembered much of those dreams.
There were other pleasant dreams, but he knew these to be nothing but fantasy. Ever since Buffy had shown up in his living room, he had dreamed about her. Always they were here, in this apartment, and deliriously happy in one another’s company. Those glimpses of making love to her were nothing but fantasy, if her current behavior was anything to go by. No one had hinted that they were ever anything more than friends.
He treasured those dreams. Most often, though, his dreams were dizzying nightmares that made no sense at all. Death and destruction were a common theme in those dreams, the taste of blood was another. Angel still trembled internally to think about it. The thought that he could actually come up with so many words to differentiate the tastes of blood…
Those weren’t the worst of it, though. No, the dream that had caught him up last night… It was pure fear, and terror, and pain. That was the only way he could describe it. Every emotion was made real – the despair had been so heavy he could almost taste it. He had woken up with his own scream echoing in his ears.
Angel had been looking at the one paragraph in this book for the last fifteen minutes. It made no more sense this time than it had the last. Oh, he could read it just fine, even though it was in some language he couldn’t name. Funny how he could remember all these different languages but he couldn’t remember his own past.
He tried to discreetly glance at Buffy sitting on his couch, but found that she was watching him.
As soon as she caught his eyes, she spoke. “Doesn’t it drive you nuts?”
Angel swallowed hard. “Sorry?”
“Sitting here day after day,” Buffy explained. “I’d think you’d have the biggest case of cabin fever by now.”
Angel shrugged. “Cordelia and Wesley said it’s best if I stay here. That the police might be looking for me.”
“Yeah, but still!” Buffy said loudly. “I haven’t been closed up in here half the time that you have, and I’m ready to crawl out of my skin! Besides, I haven’t slayed anything in weeks.”
“Slayed?” Angel asked, confused.
Buffy bit her lip. “Uh, it’s not important,” she stuttered. The look in her eyes said otherwise, and Angel couldn’t help but wonder what she wasn’t telling him. “I, um, do martial arts fighting and stuff,” she tried.
Still, it wasn’t the whole truth. Angel could see that all over her face. What else wasn’t he being told?
Suddenly Buffy jumped to her feet, an odd twinkle in her eyes. “Get up,” she demanded with a grin.
Angel took the book off his lap and stood. “What are you doing?”
“Call it an experiment,” Buffy explained. “You used to help me train. And physical memory is different from memories of the past and stuff. You know, like you never forget how to ride a bike?” She took an easy battle stance. “Try and get me,” she said with a grin.
Angel tried to copy her stance even as he protested. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Buffy just laughed at that. “You won’t hurt me,” she said calmly. “I’m stronger than I look. Besides, I always used to win before. I don’t see this time being any different.” Her smile was challenging, and she took a step closer towards him.
Buffy didn’t know what exactly she was doing when she challenged Angel to fight her. She just had all this excess energy that was just begging to be released. Plus, she was completely confused as to where she stood with Angel. He was always happy to see her, but somehow she doubted he would be if he remembered how he’d gotten in this state. She’d only just admitted to herself that she still loved him, and was terrified he’d turn her away when he got his memories back. So she did nothing to reveal her feelings.
It worked well enough, but it was turning her insides into knots. In Sunnydale, she’d go out and slay to get this tension out. She couldn’t here, though, not with any regularity. Not without raising her father’s suspicions and who knew who else’s.
So, here she was, challenging Angel – human Angel – into a fight not only that he stood no chance of winning, but where he could quite easily get hurt. He stood in his own battle stance, nearby but making no move to fight her. Here he was the one who could get hurt if she forgot he wasn’t a vampire anymore, and he was concerned for her safety.
Typical.
Buffy took a swing at him, more of a feint than a real attempt. There was no force behind it and it was slow, but Angel blocked it easily. So far so good. He made no move to strike back, so she tried again, this time with a bit more force. Still he blocked it and Buffy couldn’t help but grin. She knew, somehow, that he’d remember how to fight.
Angel had yet to strike back, yet slowly she pressed him, her moves becoming more complicated, faster and stronger. Still, she had yet to connect. He avoided her punches and kicks and slipped out of her attempted throws.
Finally he attempted to return the fight. The punch he threw missed as he hadn’t really wanted to connect anyway, but Buffy could not ignore the force behind it. As the traded blows back and forth, Buffy smiled as the exertion made her breath harder. This was exactly how she remembered it. Sparring with Angel was always a deadly and delightful dance. For the moment, she forgot completely the time that had passed.
Then suddenly she was sprawled on her back on the hardwood floor, Angel on top of her. This was definitely not how she remembered it. For one thing, Angel had never won before. And she could feel the living heat of his body as he held her down, something she’d never felt before. Then there was the intensity of his gaze that Buffy fought so hard not to return.
“A successful experiment?” Angel asked, breathless from the exertion.
Buffy swallowed hard before she could speak. “Yeah, except I usually land on top,” she said, and smiled to show she was teasing.
To her surprise, Angel laughed. In all the time since she had found him again, he had rarely smiled and never laughed. It was a wonderful sound. She treasured it.
Squirming out from under him, Buffy joined in his laughter. When it was gone and they fought to catch their breath, Buffy looked at Angel once again. He was looking at her, grinning from ear to ear. He was so beautiful when he smiled. It made her almost loose her resolve to keep things between them within the realm of friendship.
Her own bewildered heart was enough of a problem for Buffy to contemplate. She didn’t need to think about how Angel had been strong enough to defeat her, too.
At some point in their sparring, Buffy had stopped holding back, and Angel had defeated her.
That…well, that was a problem for later. Definitely later.
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