Buffy was late. Juggling the bags she had brought, she reached for the door to Angel Investigations. It was locked.
She frowned. Since the first couple of days that she had been making the trip to Angel’s she had never found the door locked. No matter how early she arrived, it was always open. Angel was always sitting in one of the office chairs waiting for her. Today Buffy was late, having gone to buy groceries first, and the locked door concerned her.
Placing her bags on the ground, Buffy fished for the spare key Cordelia had given her. It slipped easily into the lock and the door opened with a gentle push. Lifting her grocery bags again, she entered the faintly lit office. No one was there.
“Hello?” she called, kicking the door shut behind her. “Angel?”
There was no response. He must have slept late, Buffy told herself, but she was still worried. She put the bags down in the elevator and descended into the basement apartment.
It was completely dark. Fumbling for a light switch, Buffy called out again. “Angel?” Again, there was no response.
Buffy’s stomach twisted with worry as she put the bags on the kitchen table. As she took a deep breath to calm herself, she finally heard a noise other than the panicked beating of her own heart. It was a barest whisper, incoherent, coming from the direction of Angel’s bedroom. That was followed by a sharp, terrified cry.
Fearing that something had come to attack Angel in his sleep, she dashed into his bedroom. Angel was still asleep, tangled in the bedcovers. He was tossing slightly and what Buffy could see of him was covered in sweat. He was mumbling something Buffy could not understand. She had no trouble deciphering his occasional panicked cries and the look of fear on his face.
Nightmare.
Buffy was at his side in an instant. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she seized his bare shoulders in her hands. “Angel!” she cried loudly. He thrashed in his sleep, trying to get away from her. She let go, not wanting to make his nightmare worse. “Angel, wake up!”
He sat up suddenly, the blankets falling to his waist. His eyes were wide with panic and he was breathing heavily. A final cry died in his throat.
“Shh,” Buffy whispered as if placating a small child. “It’s all right.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It was just a nightmare.”
Suddenly he clasped her in a fierce hug. His breath came in relieved sobs that made him shake. Buffy held him tightly to her, her hand moving gently on his back until his fear subsided.
Angel pulled away eventually and looked at Buffy a bit sheepishly. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s alright,” Buffy replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Nightmare?” she asked.
Angel nodded but would not meet her eye.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Buffy prompted.
“I’d rather not,” Angel said quickly. He shrugged out of her grip and slipped from the bed.
Buffy watched as he busied himself pulling clothes for the day out of the closet. Something was wrong. “Have you had these nightmares before?” She could see the muscles of his back tense but he said nothing. He just stopped mid-motion of putting on his shirt. Buffy stood quickly and went to his side. She felt him trembling slightly when she touched his arm. “I want to help,” she said. “I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”
Angel sighed. The release of air made him seem smaller. “Every night,” he whispered.
“Angel!” Buffy said sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Angel shrugged. “Couldn’t,” he whispered.
“Of course you could!” Buffy replied. “You can tell me anything,” she continued in a softer tone.
“Could I?” Angel asked a bit sharply. She could see the fear still lurking in his eyes. This nightmare had really shaken him. “Do you really want to know?”
“I do,” Buffy said firmly. She knew what it was like to have nightmares night after night.
Angel finally met her eyes and saw the sincerity and concern within them. He sat down wearily on the edge of the bed. “Where do you want me to start?” he whispered, sounding defeated.
Buffy sat next to him easily. “Why don’t you start with what you dreamed last night?”
He looked at her blankly, then stared straight ahead and began his tale. “There was a girl,” he began slowly, “a young woman, wearing a long blue dress. It was…old fashioned. We were outside and it was nighttime; very dark out…and I remember the air was damp like it might start raining any minute. The girl…one minute she was smiling, and the next she got this horrified look on her face. I … the dream me … loved that, because I was the one that terrified her. She began screaming…” Angel shifted uncomfortably and his gaze drifted to his lap. “I…bit her neck. I tasted her blood.”
“You killed her,” Buffy said in sudden understanding.
“Yes,” Angel whispered. He did not raise his gaze.
Buffy sighed softly. Memory…it had to be memory, disguised as a dream. Angel had no clue of that. The second day that Buffy had visited she, Wesley, and Cordelia had a long discussion about what they should and should not tell him. His memories, they decided, would have to come again on their own, or with Buffy’s presence as the prophecies said they would. As far as vampires and demons went, they would only tell him what was necessary for their own safety.
Thus far, that was nothing.
Angel finally returned his gaze to Buffy. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Buffy answered with a question of her own. “You’ve been dreaming that every night?”
Angel shook his head. “Not exactly. Similar dreams, though.” He said that as if to make her feel better.
“How long have you been having these dreams?”
Angel shrugged, indicating that he didn’t know. Probably, then, as long as he’d been back. Buffy wondered at that. She’d have to talk to Wesley, but it sounded like his memories weren’t actually gone, simply blocked instead. Only when he was asleep did they appear.
So many terrible years…
Angel looked at Buffy seriously. “You know something, don’t you?”
Buffy bit her lip. “I’m not sure,” she replied. Before Angel could look at her suspiciously she rose from the bed. “Enough of this talk. How about some breakfast to get your mind off of this?”
Angel came along without
a protest.
“What are you doing?” Cordelia asked from the bottom of the stairs, Wesley standing just behind her.
Buffy looked up and grinned. “Good morning, Cordelia,” she said. She sounded just a bit like one of the orphans in Annie greeting Miss Hanigan.
“Good morning,” Angel said softly as well a beat behind her.
Wesley came into the kitchen a second later. “I trust you both slept well?” he said by way of greeting.
Angel frowned and Buffy grimaced. “Let’s not talk about that,” she said. Wesley opened his mouth to speak again when Buffy snapped, “Later, okay?” At the look of hurt in the ex-Watcher’s face, Buffy softened. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, well…” Wesley swallowed. “I was merely going to reiterate Cordelia’s question,” he said.
Buffy looked blankly at Cordelia. “I’m sorry. You had a question?”
Cordelia gave a long-suffering sigh. “I asked what you were doing,” she said, gesturing at the mostly packed bag.
“Oh!” Buffy glanced briefly at Angel and broke into a grin. “We’re going on a picnic,” she declared happily.
Wesley paled. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?” he asked.
Buffy frowned at him. “Oh, come on!” she said, slightly angry. “Aren’t you sick of being closed in here all the time? It’s about time Angel got to have some fun. Besides,” she grinned again, “I want to see what he looks like with a suntan.”
Cordelia chuckled.
Wesley frowned at them both. “You are forgetting,” he said sternly, “that the police are looking for him. I simply don’t think…”
“You’re right; you don’t!” Buffy interrupted him loudly. “Do you really think the police are really looking for him? That’s just words. Besides, they think he’s dead! They are not going to go out of their way looking for a dead man wanted for some piddly crime!” She took a deep breath. “I almost wish they would,” she said, her voice deadly quiet. “I’ve got a lot to get back at them for.”
The room went dead silent in the wake of her pronouncement.
“Uh, I’m confused.”
All eyes went to Angel, seemingly having forgotten he was there. The three of them shifted uncomfortably and would not look at him.
Angel looked at them all in turn. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked very softly.
Buffy slowly sank into the chair beside him. Ignoring the looks both Cordelia and Wesley were giving her, she sighed. “You made some enemies…or, one enemy, actually…in the police department.”
Angel looked thoughtful. “How? What did I do?”
“You helped a wanted murderer,” Buffy said after a moment, slowly and without emotion.
Angel winced.
“Mostly, she just doesn’t like you,” Cordelia chimed in.
Now Angel looked even more confused, if that was possible. “What? Who?”
“Cop lady,” Cordelia explained. “Kate.”
“Oh,” Angel said, though he looked just as confused as before. “And they think I’m dead? The police?”
Cordelia and Wesley came and sat at the table as well. “Not the police, actually,” Wesley began. “They believe you escaped. Kate believes you are dead.”
“But she’s the only one that really wanted you captured,” Cordelia added quickly.
Angel looked thoughtfully between the three of them. “And this person I helped?” he prompted.
It was Buffy who answered this time. “You…felt she deserved a second chance,” she said slowly. She sighed. “She was a friend once.”
Both Cordelia and Wesley looked surprised at this admission, but Angel did not notice. “And this is why you did not want me leaving here?” he asked them.
Wesley nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “But now I feel that Buffy is right.”
“I am?” Buffy asked in surprise. Then she grinned. “Of course I am.” She looked at Wesley. “Do you want to come with us?”
Wesley shook his head. “No…Cordelia and I will mind the office. You two…have a good time.”
Cordelia stood and grinned. “Get a suntan for me,” she said to Angel. “The never-seen-the-sunlight look is so out.”
Angel’s confused look disappeared to be replaced with a grin.
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