Part Four
The three days following Angel’s abrupt nighttime departure were among the most physically and emotionally exhausting in Buffy’s life. She had just allowed herself to feel the relief of Angel’s arrival, an arrival she had felt coming for days before he reappeared in Sunnydale. But in the space of one night, her hopes for some time with the one she loved had been torn to pieces.
She worried, and she waited. She worried that he had not had enough time to rest from one adventure before starting on the next, and that without that some demon would do him in for good this time. She waited...for anything. But he didn’t call, and he didn’t return.
Exhausted, Buffy returned to her – their? – apartment. The day in school had just seemed to stretch on forever. Buffy considered canceling the girl’s night out Willow had suggested earlier in the week. She was just so...drained. She needed this weekend. With a sigh, she placed her key in the lock in the front door...and it swung open, improperly latched.
Buffy was instantly on alert. She always locked the door when she left in the morning. She stepped into the doorway, ready in an instant to drop her bag and fight whatever awaited her. A step further....
She stumbled over a bag lying across the doorway. Cursing to herself, Buffy regained her balance quickly, dropping her own bag in the process. She looked at what had tripped her...and stopped.
Angel’s duffle.
Part of Buffy wanted to scream for joy right there. He was back! And so much sooner than she had expected. But her unease did not vanish so easily.
“Angel?” she called into the apartment.
There was no response. Buffy placed her keys on the table and looked around. No lights had been turned on, even though the sun had nearly set. She flicked on the switch in the living room, bathing the area in unforgiving light. Angel was not on the couch, nor was he in the kitchen unless he was hiding under the counter.
“Angel?” Buffy called again, making her way down the hallway. The bedroom door was wide open, and there were no lights one here, either. And there was still no response, nor any sound of another living person in the apartment. She looked around the semi-darkness, growing more and more worried by the moment.
At last, she caught a glimpse of light underneath the bathroom door. Buffy smiled. He must not have heard her. She knocked firmly. “Angel!”
Once again, no response.
Buffy bit her lip, and opened the bathroom door. It was unlocked and swung open easily...but blocked after a moment. She leaned her head around the door to see why it wouldn’t open...and gasped.
Angel was there, but.... Unconscious, he sat slumped against the edge of the bathtub, completely oblivious to Buffy’s nearly frantic worry. His face was bruised and his clothing was tattered. He looked absolutely terrible. Deathly still.
“Angel!” Buffy cried, squirming through the open door and trying her best not to jostle him. She knelt at his side at an instant. Her hands fluttered about his skin, momentarily at a loss for what to do. She felt for a pulse at last, and found it, if weaker than she’d hoped. Then she began to inspect him for wounds.
What she found nearly brought tears to her eyes. Under his thoroughly torn shirt, a hasty bandage adorned most of his abdomen. It was completely permeated with blood.
“Oh, god,” Buffy muttered to herself. She had known something like this was going to happen. As gently as she could, Buffy removed Angel’s torn shirt from his still form. She tried her best not to jostle him, but even whatever pain she caused wasn’t waking him up right now. There was yet another bandage on his back, smaller than the first, but this one had left a bloody streak on the bathroom tile behind him.
Buffy hesitated to look at his wounds. She ached just to see the bandages. A part of her knew that if he had been anything other than what he was – a nearly immortal warrior – he would be dead now. It was a wonder that he had managed to make it home in this condition at all.
With tears in her eyes, Buffy removed the bandage on his stomach. The horrible wound was already healing, but he still looked like something had made raw meat out of his middle. Something not nearly as ‘clean’ as a sword or other blade – this wound was torn and uneven. His body had saved itself by slowing the bleeding to a mere weeping of blood, but what was left would have made Buffy sick to look at on any other person. As it was, it took all of her effort not to cry as he lay still in her arms. She washed his wounds, front and back, as gently as was humanly possible. Then, at last, she re-bandaged his torso with clean dressings – likely what he’d gone into the bathroom to do in the first place.
There was only one more thing she could do for now. Wincing sympathetically every time she shifted his body, Buffy lifted Angel to a position where she could half carry, half drag him to the bedroom. She had rarely been so glad for her Slayer strength. She placed him in the bed, pulled the covers to his chest, and kissed him ever so lightly on the forehead.
Then she sat beside him to wait for him to regain consciousness.
At first, no one answered when Willow knocked on the apartment door. Curious but not concerned, she knocked again, a little harder. Once again, there was no response. A neighbor peaked out of their door, then ducked back in again.
Something drew Willow’s eye as she waited. Shuffling her feet, she noticed a dark splotch on the cement of the doorjamb. Kneeling down to touch it, she found it not quite dry. Drawing the slightly sticky substance closer to her gaze, she frowned. Blood?
Willow stood back up quickly and did not bother to knock this time. The doorknob turned easily, unlocked. “Buffy!”
She was practically holding her breath as she waited for a response – any response.
“Back here.”
Willow did not hear the voice immediately. It was muffled, from the very back of the apartment. She didn’t *quite* run down the hall when she realized what she had heard.
Buffy did not look up when Willow froze in the bedroom doorway. She just sat on the edge of the bed, holding on to Angel’s hand like it was a lifeline. “I meant to call you,” she said, “to cancel our evening.”
“Oh my god,” Willow gasped, looking at Angel. He was as pale as she’d ever seen him in all his time as a vampire. He wasn’t moving at all. “What happened to him?”
Buffy ran a light hand along her unconscious love’s forehead. “I don’t know,” she said. “He was like this when I got home.”
She looked up at Willow then, and her friend could see she’d been crying. “Actually, not like this. I cleaned him up and got him in bed....” Her voice got choked up in the middle and trailed off at the end. Her face looked absolutely miserable.
“Oh, Buffy,” Willow said, closing the space between them.
Buffy bit back a sob. “I just knew something was going to happen. Something....”
Willow was quickly at her side. “It’ll be all right,” she said.
“But...”
Willow silenced her with a look, then leaned over Angel. So many years at Buffy’s side, and her first aid knowledge kicked in pretty quickly now. Angel’s expression was pained even though he wasn’t conscious, but he seemed to be resting pretty easily and his breathing was deep and even. Willow reached to check his pulse and found it normal and strong. She looked at Buffy. “How are his wounds?” she asked.
At Buffy’s faintly surprised look, she said, “I saw a drop of blood on the doorstep.”
Buffy swallowed audibly. “It...looks like he was...messily skewered.”
Willow could not bring herself to look and instead took Buffy’s word for it. “And the bleeding?”
“I don’t think he’s bleeding anymore,” Buffy managed. “It...was slowing when I...bandaged him.”
Willow gave her best reassuring smile. “He’s going to be fine.”
Buffy looked at her sharply. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Willow said. “Hey, he’s tough to kill. And he’s already getting better. It may take him a little while....”
Buffy frowned and touched Angel’s cheek. “I just hope the world gives him a while.”
Willow was silent for a moment, looking at her in sympathy and concern. “You look exhausted,” she said.
“I am.”
“Take a rest,” Willow suggested.
Buffy hesitated. “I...”
“He won’t begrudge you some rest, Buffy!” Willow said. “Please.” She looked at Buffy earnestly. “I’ll stay here in case you need me.” She took a deep breath then. “Jade is coming over later.”
Buffy looked shocked at that. “What?!”
Willow looked a bit sheepish. “I met with her the night Angel left,” she explained. “She’s worried.”
“She knew?!” Buffy snapped.
“No, no! Not about this.” Willow thought for a second about what to say. “She’s worried like you’ve been worried. That Angel’s...getting torn apart by what he is.”
There was a long silence between the two of them. “Oh,” Buffy said at last, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We’re all worried,” she said calmly. “And we’re all going to do our best to help you. Both of you.”
Buffy gave her a small, sad smile. “Thanks, Willow.”
Willow grinned. “What are friends for?”
Buffy chuckled slightly.
“Now,” Willow said, standing back from the bed, “you will get some rest. I will sit in the living room, and I will wake you when Jade gets here.”
Buffy smirked as she scooted to the empty side of the bed. “Yes, ma’am,” she teased.
Willow smiled and closed the bedroom door behind her.
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