The Wheel

by Cynamin

Part One

Cordelia wouldn’t admit it, but she was terrified. When Angel had cried out…. She’d never heard anything like it. It was pain, it was fear, it was despair…it was all of these and more. And it had been sudden – he’d just screamed and dropped with no apparent cause.

Forty-five minutes later she and Wesley had just managed to get their employer – their friend – back to the apartment. Cordelia cursed that they had decided to walk to where whatever evil they had to fight was waiting…which never bothered to show. They’d had to walk back as well, dragging Angel unconscious between them. Her feet ached, her shoulders ached, and she was so tired she could sleep for a week.

No, scratch that; she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all until they found out what was wrong with Angel.

She and Wesley struggled to get him into his bed. He was, she reflected with bitter humor, a dead weight. Once she’d done that she walked out of the bedroom, wearily taking a seat at the kitchen table. She hung her head in her hands.

Wesley came out and joined her several minutes later. “I can’t find anything…physically wrong with him,” he said. “There’s no sign of injury or poison…no illness would effect him…” his voice trailed off.

“Then what happened to him, Wesley?” Cordelia demanded. “People…vampires...don’t just scream like that without reason.”

“I don’t know,” Wesley said, sounding as tired as Cordelia felt. He sat up straighter after a moment and spoke in a tone meant to reassure her. “I will begin researching immediately,” he said.

Cordelia nodded. “One of us should stay with him tonight,” she said softly.

“You go home and rest,” Wesley insisted. “I need Angel’s books if I’m going to research this properly anyway.”

Cordelia stood, her legs aching in protest. She said nothing, but let her eyes reveal her gratitude. She crossed the room, taking one last look into the bedroom before she left. Angel lay on his side, curled up under the covers so that only his face was showing. His brow was creased in…pain? She sighed wearily. She cared for him more than she would ever admit. He was like family. He certainly did more for her than her family ever had.

Now it was time for her to return the favor, and she hadn’t the slightest idea of where to begin.

Angel was lost. An empty gray was all around him. There was nothing – no ground, no up, no down, no left, no right…yet somehow Angel knew he was falling. Lost. The gray darkened in response to his despair.

Then sensation; a hand grasping at his. Small and strong, warm and familiar, it was a piece of reality in the midst of the unreal. Everything snapped into place at that touch; the ground materialized beneath his feet, location defined itself, and the gray lightened. It was no more real than before though, like an amorphous mist that could give rise to anything at ant moment. It was disorienting. Angel swayed on his feet.

A second hand on his arm steadied him, and Angel could have wept at the familiar touch. “Oh, Angel,” she whispered, her beautiful voice a mix of concern, love, and sadness, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Wherever you are, I’ll be,” Angel whispered back. He did not look at her, afraid of what he might see.

“Don’t say that,” she said strongly, her voice harsh. “It’s not true.”

Angel turned at her hurt tone and finally looked at Buffy. She was vibrant and beautiful, almost more so than he remembered. There was a light in her eyes he could put no name to. She seemed to brighten the darkness around them. It made the pain on her face all the more horrible. Angel took her hands in his and looked into her strange eyes. “It is true. It always has been. In my heart, I’m always with you.”

Buffy placed a hand on his chest in a gesture that was achingly familiar. “Your soul is with me?” she asked softly, seeming almost childlike.

“Yes,” Angel whispered back.

Buffy smiled sadly yet with understanding. “Not anymore, Angel. You can’t stay here. You have to go back.”

“Here?”

“Between places,” Buffy explained. “I’m sorry. You can’t follow me here.”

“I don’t know how to go back,” Angel said with certainty.

“You have to.”

“Do you want me to go?” Angel asked softly.

“I…you have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I never wanted you to leave,” Buffy whispered. It was barely audible.

“Then I’ll stay.”

Buffy smiled, but it was still tinged with sadness. “You can’t stay forever.”

“Then as long as I can.”

She took his hand again and squeezed it slightly. “Walk with me?”

Cordelia was right. Though exhausted, she’d barely slept the last three nights. The mystery of Angel’s condition consumed her thoughts every waking moment. She was spending more time in the office than she had in the last month. At least, so it seemed. When it wasn’t her turn to keep an eye on Angel for any change she was doing her best to help on the research end of things. It was enough to make her wish that she’d been more studious back in high school.

When she arrived at the apartment that morning Wesley was sitting in a chair he’d dragged into Angel’s bedroom. A book was open in his lap but his eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. Not that it mattered. He’d slept even less than she had, and Angel wasn’t going anywhere.

The vampire in question was lying on his bed, of course. He laid on his back now, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The first time he had laid such Cordelia had thought he was actually coming out of whatever this was. Then she had seen that vacant look in his eyes. He was awake, but he saw nothing. For a man who’d been dead for over 200 years, he had never seemed so much like a corpse. Cordelia liked it much better when his eyes were closed.

She entered the room quietly and laid a gentle hand on Wesley’s shoulder. He jumped as he was startled awake. Seeing who was there he calmed and smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he began to stammer.

Cordelia shrugged, too tired to do anything else. “No change?” she asked.

“No change,” Wesley agreed. He glanced over at the bed and sighed. “If this is anything like a human coma,” he began to explain softly, “I fear that the longer he’s like this the less likely he is to wake up.”

“In other words, you have no clue,” Cordelia clarified.

Wesley hesitated, then nodded slightly. “No clue,” he agreed.

Cordelia spun on her heel suddenly and began looking through Angel’s shelves. She discarded the books and weapons and searched with almost an angry energy. Wesley followed her in confusion.

“What are you doing?” Wesley asked after a moment.

Cordelia’s voice was harsh when she spoke. “I’m sick of this,” she said, continuing to throw things around. “I’m sick of having no clue, of staring at Angel….” Her voice trailed off and she continued in a calmer tone. “I’m sick of feeling helpless.” She reached onto a shelf then, and smiled slightly. She held up a bag of powder or something from the pile of ritual supplies with triumph shining in her eyes.

“I’m going to get answers.”

The gray felt familiar now, like an old enemy. It stretched in endless monotony, broken only by the path beneath Angel’s feet. At times it seemed like cement, others cobblestone, but it was always the same gray as the mists around it. Angel had the strangest fear that it was leeching color from him as well and he would soon be as gray as everything else.

Buffy though…she was the only spot of color in this world. She was vibrant and shining, too brilliant to be dimmed by even the darkest night. She was the Slayer – even the darkness she fought failed to dim her brilliance. Not even death….

Angel’s unbeating heart clenched in sudden despair, and he closed his eyes as he fought against it. For a moment he had forgotten; forgotten the pain that would always plague him, forgotten the loneliness, forgotten that the one who walked beside him here was little more than a ghost. He felt himself slipping away and didn’t care.

“Angel!” Buffy’s hands were harsh on his shoulders and he gasped as his eyes snapped open. He shook his head furiously. She was dead. She was dead….

The gray seemed to now be oppressive and dark. “Don’t!” she snapped at him. “Don’t become lost on my account. The world needs you. I need you. I need to know you’re okay.”

“But you’re dead,” Angel whispered. He felt his cheeks grow damp. A soul’s tears….

“Angel,” Buffy whispered sadly. She touched the tears resting on his cheeks. “Don’t cry for me,” she begged.

“I always will,” he replied. “You were supposed to have a normal life. A long life.” He’d given up everything for that.

“Without you?” Buffy asked softly.

Angel nodded.

“But I never wanted that. I’d rather have a year of happiness with you than a lifetime of loneliness without you.” As Angel began to sink further into despair, thinking of what they could have had, Buffy gently held his face in her hands. “I don’t say this to make you regret what you did. It’s just that…don’t you think we’re rewarded in the end?”

“Not me,” Angel replied in a barely audible whisper.

“Especially you,” Buffy said. “No one should have to live with the pain you have. You didn’t have to fight – you had more of a choice than I did. But you fought. If anyone deserves some beauty and happiness in the end, it’s you.”

“You are that beauty and happiness,” Angel replied.

Buffy smiled sadly. “Maybe,” she whispered. Still holding his head, she leaned forward and caught his lips with her own. It overwhelmed him in an entirely new way. Souls touching, he could feel the love that they shared, the love that she held for him. He returned it – he always had – but now he could express it in a new way.I love you went unspoken, but was heard nonetheless.

They broke away and Angel saw that love reflected in Buffy’s eyes. She was smiling. “You still…?” Angel asked in surprise.

“Always,” Buffy replied.

Angel blinked as if in a daze. They gray was changed, glowing as if lit by sunlight. The scent of flowers and growth hung in the air, welcoming and warm. It was no longer the absence of color, but the potential for all color. There was an air of contentment all around them. A moment ago this place had perfectly reflected the anguish he’d held in his heart. Now it shown with the love and joy that had replaced that sadness. Angel looked at Buffy in surprise and wonder.

She smiled. “Love transforms,” was all she said.

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