Lucid Dreaming Pt.5
Characters: Buffy, Angel, ensembles of both shows
Rating: PG/PG-13 (not really sure)
Words: 2274
Summary: Set outside events as they progressed. Set sometime during Angel S.5 based on the little I know of it and post series finale of Buffy. Buffy arrives in LA to see Angel...something is up. Not the usual something.
A/N: I wrote this a looooong time ago. It is not complete but I just felt like finally posting it. It will be the first time I have posted anything I have written ever. I am nervous. Also, I clearly don't own any of the characters.
“I told Spike I loved him.”
It seemed that the more Zen Buffy became the less so he did because all thoughts of Nina were wiped away and he shot up and barked,
“WHAT?”
Had anyone come in at that moment they would have been confronted with a bizarre little tableau vivant. He, shoulders hunched, storm cloud on his brow, leaning over like some crazed animal…which was very nearly what he was and a few feet away, cool as a cucumber, still sitting on the desk, his tiny blonde slayer. She wasn’t scared, or upset, he could see laughter behind her eyes and she was waiting for him to calm down so she could finish.
She reached out and took his hand, gently forcing him to sit back beside her, stroking it comfortably. Angel held the rabid rage in check but only because he knew that he needed to hear what she had to say. It wouldn’t change that he wanted to rend Spike limb from limb despite that he didn’t technically, have limbs. Buffy swallowed and spoke again obviously seeing a different time and place.
“He was standing there…and there was so much light, it was coming out of his fingertips and his head and just surrounding him…and it was so bright that it hurt even if you closed your eyes.” She took a deep breath and Angel saw tears filling her eyes. “And he was going to do it. I knew that he was going to give up his life…and that I was most of the reason.” She was completely crying now and Angel felt his rage melt, pass away, and be replaced by guilt and sadness. She turned to him now, and her voice took on almost a pleading quality, like she needed him to understand and so he tried.
“Every step of that horrible way he was there…even when I didn’t want him to be, he was there…and he loved me Angel. And he was going to die…so I gave him the last gift I could…and I did love him, I loved him for what he became and I loved him for what he gave me…only not the way he wanted.” Angel had to take a breath of relief just to ease the horrible tension in his throat. “And he knew it…but I will always care for him for sticking by me when I thought I couldn’t keep going.”
There was a long moment of silence before Angel could gather himself enough to speak,
“It should have been me.” He let those few words encompass everything he felt, it should have been him wearing the amulet, it should have been him at her side all those years, it should have been him over and over bearing the burden so that she didn’t have to. There had been no reproach in Buffy’s voice, Angel knew that she was not trying to make him feel badly, that she was trying to share something with him…a moment from her life. Come to think of it, he had asked her to talk about Spike, but he couldn’t help it. It galled. Even being a do-gooder he made choices that he regretted, was angry with himself for things he felt he ought to have done differently, that was humanity. He hung his head; bowed by the weight of knowing that Spike had stayed by Buffy, even knowing she would never feel for him what he felt for her…he went out and asked for a soul…because of her. And Angel was too weak, too afraid to stay by her side through thick and thin. She was looking at him now with a kind of slow, measuring understanding. But there was no quick denial of his assertion, no sharp ‘NO’ to break the air; just Buffy, tears pouring down her face, looking down into him, to the most deep and hidden parts.
“There are times, Angel, when all of us must find a way to be more than we are…more than we ever thought we could be. That was Spike’s time…don’t deny it him.” She was telling him, reminding him, gently, that this was not about him and his guilt and pain and fight. And just to prove that it was not an accusation she reached up and cupped his cheek.
He couldn’t help it, he leaned into the caress. This woman that Buffy had become, with more compassion, understanding and patience…and wisdom, drew him. It drew him even more than her childlike goodness had. He was being inexorably pulled in, like a moth to a flame, certain that it would end in either his immolation or everyone’s but he just couldn’t stop it.
Powerless as he had always been when truly confronted with everything that Buffy was, that terrible conflict that had always been there was simply gone. Deep in his bones there was a peace, a peace that came from accepting that when it came to her that this was always how it would be. Perhaps she had grown and changed but so had he.
Angel had no words to match hers and instead just brought his own hand up and brushed away the ceaseless cataract of her tears. One last thing nagged at him though; pulled at his insides. The precise feeling that when talking about Spike she had really been talking about herself. Her whole adult life had been made up of those moments, moments when she pushed herself past the limits of any expectation. He couldn’t have said how he knew that that wasn’t what she was talking about, but he just knew.
“I never told anyone that.” She said, hiccupping a little.
“Thank you.” He said softly, “Thank you for telling me.” It had hurt like nothing had in a long time but it had also made him feel alive…just because he was really feeling something.
“I’m so glad that I put mascara on today.” She laugh-cried, brushing the tears away roughly. He laughed a bit at her little vanity and responded,
“You look fine.” And wiped a tear off her chin.
“And you’re still a terrible liar.” She countered. Both smiled at the shared memory of their kind of first date.
“Five minutes alone with you and she’s a soddin’ puddle of tears!” A very unwelcome voice exclaimed.
Remembering what Buffy had told him Angel kept his temper and exasperation in check and managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Instead he just stood up and moved to get Buffy some water. Spike had walked over to her.
“Did he hurt you pet?” He asked softly, a note of real concern in his voice that made Angel flinch.
Buffy laughed a bit,
“No Spike, of course he didn’t hurt me…and please stop calling me pet.”
Angel remained silent though somewhat triumphant and walked over to give Buffy her water. Spike tried to get right up in his face,
“If I find out…” He began. Angel snorted,
“If you find out what?” Spike bristled in front of him. “What are you going to do?” Angel stuck his hand through Spike’s middle for effect. He wasn’t really mad he just couldn’t totally avoid the bait that the ghost offered.
“If I find out you hurt her I will find some way to pay you back in kind.” Spike hissed.
“Simmer down blondie.” Angel replied sitting down. “I did not and will not hurt her.”
Buffy was smiling into her water. Once upon a time she would have thrown herself between them forcing the bickering to stop. But this time she seemed to be enjoying it.
“Come on Buffy. Tell the great ponce to get off my back.” Spike intoned, somewhat whiningly. She put up her free hand in a gesture of surrender and said,
“Hey, I wouldn’t dare interfere with such testosterone laden men fighting over me. Sorry.”
Angel looked down, hiding his smile.
“UGH!” Spike threw up his hands in disgust and vanished through his usual wall.
“He always did have a knack for showing up at the most inconvenient moment.” Buffy said.
“Tell me about it.”
Buffy had gone upstairs soon after their little chat in his office, saying that some phone calls and a nap were in order. He didn’t stop her because he still had a lot of work to take care of, and he needed to think a little.
Angel wished for a moment that it wouldn’t be totally inappropriate to listen in on her conversations, figuring she was going to call Giles and that he could find out what the hell was going on. But he forced that desire down and reminded himself that he would know something soon enough.
So he sat down with a mug of blood with the intention of attacking the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Instead of actually picking anything up he just stared out into the twilight. Was he too cushy? Did Buffy not like the new him that had an assistant? That had his blood brought to him? That sat in a huge office with hundreds of beings at his beck and call? Did she miss the Angel who was a vampire of action? Who did everything with his own two hands? The Angel she had fallen in love with was so different. Could she still care for him the way he felt his care for her rising up like an unstoppable wave?
It was all extremely frustrating…but invigorating. Buffy hadn’t said a word about any of it but he felt like he needed to rush into the night and conquer…something…for her. To show her he was the same vampire she had fallen for. Maybe it was frustrating and invigorating but it was also silly. Or rather, he felt totally silly asking himself all these questions, like a nervous schoolgirl.
The minute he dismissed one train of thought though, an equally perplexing one rose up to take its place. Angel couldn’t deny that the whole Spike narrative had gotten to him. He knew she was right, it wasn’t about him but nothing she would ever say would assuage the guilt he felt over not being the one who always had her back, no matter the personal cost to him.
She hadn’t exhibited any special care for Spike since she had gotten there, just been kind and fascinated by the situation. Plus, she clearly felt only something akin to pity for the ex-vampire, perhaps even guilt. In fact, she had been obviously much more interested in being with Angel himself.
But still, it couldn’t be discounted. Buffy had taken Spike into her bed, and on the floor and in the cemetery if the stories were to be believed…a though that made Angel’s blood boil and fists clench even after so long. She had told him long ago, after it was over, what had happened between she and Spike. It made Angel want to vomit, that Spike had had the thing that Angel had craved most in his unlife…more than once, more than twice. The bond formed by that couldn’t be forgotten…by anyone.
And now, Spike had saved her. Saved everyone. At the expense of his life. Angel was jealous, angry, sad, guilty and confused all at once. He found himself fervently wishing that something, anything, would be simple, would be easy, just once. Thankfully he was saved from this particularly hateful train of thought by the entrance of Wesley, who still looked like he had been hit by a truck.
“Any more information from Buffy?” He asked the vampire.
“No.” Angel sighed. “We had…other things…to discuss.” He replied awkwardly. “Plus as I said I want to give her a least a couple of days to tell me herself. I don’t want to push…I feel like she would have already told me if it is as big as you say it is.”
“I understand. But we cannot afford to wait too long. Though the process is slow it is still happening rather regularly…at least if she knows something then we have one more capable person working on the problem.”
Angel stood up and paced, as was his wont.
“Hello my kiddies and cuties.” Lorne rang out as he came into the overly tense office. “Whoa Angel…that’s some serious confusion you got radiating off you. I sense a certain bitty blonde slayer is involved.”
Lorne sat down and crossed his eggplant slacked legs.
“How did you know that? He didn’t even sing.” Wesley responded wonderingly.
“That one, every bit of him oozes her. You can almost see it if you squint.” The acid green demon answered squinting at Angel for effect.
“It’s nothing.” Angel replied curtly.
“Nothing, everything, have it your way…” Lorne added casually, “But I will tell you what isn’t nothing…” his voice took on a slight reproving edge, “the firm’s holiday gala that is in two nights.”
“Damn it.” Angel muttered.
“Right, nothing.” Lorne snorted getting up. “Boys, I need you focused. I know parties aren’t any of this crew’s thing but this is even bigger than the yearly All Soul’s shindig. Please please take care of getting your tuxes!” A genuine note of begging crept into his voice as he sidled out the door.
“Tuxes?” Wesley asked working both skepticism and despondence into his voice.
“Lorne is right. We did know about this. I have done nothing except sign papers and approve preparations for it for the last two months…at least that it what it feels like. And we can’t let him down again. Remember what happened last time we didn’t take a party seriously enough?”
“Tuxes?” Wesley repeated.
Angel just patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
Rating: PG/PG-13 (not really sure)
Words: 2274
Summary: Set outside events as they progressed. Set sometime during Angel S.5 based on the little I know of it and post series finale of Buffy. Buffy arrives in LA to see Angel...something is up. Not the usual something.
A/N: I wrote this a looooong time ago. It is not complete but I just felt like finally posting it. It will be the first time I have posted anything I have written ever. I am nervous. Also, I clearly don't own any of the characters.
“I told Spike I loved him.”
It seemed that the more Zen Buffy became the less so he did because all thoughts of Nina were wiped away and he shot up and barked,
“WHAT?”
Had anyone come in at that moment they would have been confronted with a bizarre little tableau vivant. He, shoulders hunched, storm cloud on his brow, leaning over like some crazed animal…which was very nearly what he was and a few feet away, cool as a cucumber, still sitting on the desk, his tiny blonde slayer. She wasn’t scared, or upset, he could see laughter behind her eyes and she was waiting for him to calm down so she could finish.
She reached out and took his hand, gently forcing him to sit back beside her, stroking it comfortably. Angel held the rabid rage in check but only because he knew that he needed to hear what she had to say. It wouldn’t change that he wanted to rend Spike limb from limb despite that he didn’t technically, have limbs. Buffy swallowed and spoke again obviously seeing a different time and place.
“He was standing there…and there was so much light, it was coming out of his fingertips and his head and just surrounding him…and it was so bright that it hurt even if you closed your eyes.” She took a deep breath and Angel saw tears filling her eyes. “And he was going to do it. I knew that he was going to give up his life…and that I was most of the reason.” She was completely crying now and Angel felt his rage melt, pass away, and be replaced by guilt and sadness. She turned to him now, and her voice took on almost a pleading quality, like she needed him to understand and so he tried.
“Every step of that horrible way he was there…even when I didn’t want him to be, he was there…and he loved me Angel. And he was going to die…so I gave him the last gift I could…and I did love him, I loved him for what he became and I loved him for what he gave me…only not the way he wanted.” Angel had to take a breath of relief just to ease the horrible tension in his throat. “And he knew it…but I will always care for him for sticking by me when I thought I couldn’t keep going.”
There was a long moment of silence before Angel could gather himself enough to speak,
“It should have been me.” He let those few words encompass everything he felt, it should have been him wearing the amulet, it should have been him at her side all those years, it should have been him over and over bearing the burden so that she didn’t have to. There had been no reproach in Buffy’s voice, Angel knew that she was not trying to make him feel badly, that she was trying to share something with him…a moment from her life. Come to think of it, he had asked her to talk about Spike, but he couldn’t help it. It galled. Even being a do-gooder he made choices that he regretted, was angry with himself for things he felt he ought to have done differently, that was humanity. He hung his head; bowed by the weight of knowing that Spike had stayed by Buffy, even knowing she would never feel for him what he felt for her…he went out and asked for a soul…because of her. And Angel was too weak, too afraid to stay by her side through thick and thin. She was looking at him now with a kind of slow, measuring understanding. But there was no quick denial of his assertion, no sharp ‘NO’ to break the air; just Buffy, tears pouring down her face, looking down into him, to the most deep and hidden parts.
“There are times, Angel, when all of us must find a way to be more than we are…more than we ever thought we could be. That was Spike’s time…don’t deny it him.” She was telling him, reminding him, gently, that this was not about him and his guilt and pain and fight. And just to prove that it was not an accusation she reached up and cupped his cheek.
He couldn’t help it, he leaned into the caress. This woman that Buffy had become, with more compassion, understanding and patience…and wisdom, drew him. It drew him even more than her childlike goodness had. He was being inexorably pulled in, like a moth to a flame, certain that it would end in either his immolation or everyone’s but he just couldn’t stop it.
Powerless as he had always been when truly confronted with everything that Buffy was, that terrible conflict that had always been there was simply gone. Deep in his bones there was a peace, a peace that came from accepting that when it came to her that this was always how it would be. Perhaps she had grown and changed but so had he.
Angel had no words to match hers and instead just brought his own hand up and brushed away the ceaseless cataract of her tears. One last thing nagged at him though; pulled at his insides. The precise feeling that when talking about Spike she had really been talking about herself. Her whole adult life had been made up of those moments, moments when she pushed herself past the limits of any expectation. He couldn’t have said how he knew that that wasn’t what she was talking about, but he just knew.
“I never told anyone that.” She said, hiccupping a little.
“Thank you.” He said softly, “Thank you for telling me.” It had hurt like nothing had in a long time but it had also made him feel alive…just because he was really feeling something.
“I’m so glad that I put mascara on today.” She laugh-cried, brushing the tears away roughly. He laughed a bit at her little vanity and responded,
“You look fine.” And wiped a tear off her chin.
“And you’re still a terrible liar.” She countered. Both smiled at the shared memory of their kind of first date.
“Five minutes alone with you and she’s a soddin’ puddle of tears!” A very unwelcome voice exclaimed.
Remembering what Buffy had told him Angel kept his temper and exasperation in check and managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Instead he just stood up and moved to get Buffy some water. Spike had walked over to her.
“Did he hurt you pet?” He asked softly, a note of real concern in his voice that made Angel flinch.
Buffy laughed a bit,
“No Spike, of course he didn’t hurt me…and please stop calling me pet.”
Angel remained silent though somewhat triumphant and walked over to give Buffy her water. Spike tried to get right up in his face,
“If I find out…” He began. Angel snorted,
“If you find out what?” Spike bristled in front of him. “What are you going to do?” Angel stuck his hand through Spike’s middle for effect. He wasn’t really mad he just couldn’t totally avoid the bait that the ghost offered.
“If I find out you hurt her I will find some way to pay you back in kind.” Spike hissed.
“Simmer down blondie.” Angel replied sitting down. “I did not and will not hurt her.”
Buffy was smiling into her water. Once upon a time she would have thrown herself between them forcing the bickering to stop. But this time she seemed to be enjoying it.
“Come on Buffy. Tell the great ponce to get off my back.” Spike intoned, somewhat whiningly. She put up her free hand in a gesture of surrender and said,
“Hey, I wouldn’t dare interfere with such testosterone laden men fighting over me. Sorry.”
Angel looked down, hiding his smile.
“UGH!” Spike threw up his hands in disgust and vanished through his usual wall.
“He always did have a knack for showing up at the most inconvenient moment.” Buffy said.
“Tell me about it.”
Buffy had gone upstairs soon after their little chat in his office, saying that some phone calls and a nap were in order. He didn’t stop her because he still had a lot of work to take care of, and he needed to think a little.
Angel wished for a moment that it wouldn’t be totally inappropriate to listen in on her conversations, figuring she was going to call Giles and that he could find out what the hell was going on. But he forced that desire down and reminded himself that he would know something soon enough.
So he sat down with a mug of blood with the intention of attacking the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Instead of actually picking anything up he just stared out into the twilight. Was he too cushy? Did Buffy not like the new him that had an assistant? That had his blood brought to him? That sat in a huge office with hundreds of beings at his beck and call? Did she miss the Angel who was a vampire of action? Who did everything with his own two hands? The Angel she had fallen in love with was so different. Could she still care for him the way he felt his care for her rising up like an unstoppable wave?
It was all extremely frustrating…but invigorating. Buffy hadn’t said a word about any of it but he felt like he needed to rush into the night and conquer…something…for her. To show her he was the same vampire she had fallen for. Maybe it was frustrating and invigorating but it was also silly. Or rather, he felt totally silly asking himself all these questions, like a nervous schoolgirl.
The minute he dismissed one train of thought though, an equally perplexing one rose up to take its place. Angel couldn’t deny that the whole Spike narrative had gotten to him. He knew she was right, it wasn’t about him but nothing she would ever say would assuage the guilt he felt over not being the one who always had her back, no matter the personal cost to him.
She hadn’t exhibited any special care for Spike since she had gotten there, just been kind and fascinated by the situation. Plus, she clearly felt only something akin to pity for the ex-vampire, perhaps even guilt. In fact, she had been obviously much more interested in being with Angel himself.
But still, it couldn’t be discounted. Buffy had taken Spike into her bed, and on the floor and in the cemetery if the stories were to be believed…a though that made Angel’s blood boil and fists clench even after so long. She had told him long ago, after it was over, what had happened between she and Spike. It made Angel want to vomit, that Spike had had the thing that Angel had craved most in his unlife…more than once, more than twice. The bond formed by that couldn’t be forgotten…by anyone.
And now, Spike had saved her. Saved everyone. At the expense of his life. Angel was jealous, angry, sad, guilty and confused all at once. He found himself fervently wishing that something, anything, would be simple, would be easy, just once. Thankfully he was saved from this particularly hateful train of thought by the entrance of Wesley, who still looked like he had been hit by a truck.
“Any more information from Buffy?” He asked the vampire.
“No.” Angel sighed. “We had…other things…to discuss.” He replied awkwardly. “Plus as I said I want to give her a least a couple of days to tell me herself. I don’t want to push…I feel like she would have already told me if it is as big as you say it is.”
“I understand. But we cannot afford to wait too long. Though the process is slow it is still happening rather regularly…at least if she knows something then we have one more capable person working on the problem.”
Angel stood up and paced, as was his wont.
“Hello my kiddies and cuties.” Lorne rang out as he came into the overly tense office. “Whoa Angel…that’s some serious confusion you got radiating off you. I sense a certain bitty blonde slayer is involved.”
Lorne sat down and crossed his eggplant slacked legs.
“How did you know that? He didn’t even sing.” Wesley responded wonderingly.
“That one, every bit of him oozes her. You can almost see it if you squint.” The acid green demon answered squinting at Angel for effect.
“It’s nothing.” Angel replied curtly.
“Nothing, everything, have it your way…” Lorne added casually, “But I will tell you what isn’t nothing…” his voice took on a slight reproving edge, “the firm’s holiday gala that is in two nights.”
“Damn it.” Angel muttered.
“Right, nothing.” Lorne snorted getting up. “Boys, I need you focused. I know parties aren’t any of this crew’s thing but this is even bigger than the yearly All Soul’s shindig. Please please take care of getting your tuxes!” A genuine note of begging crept into his voice as he sidled out the door.
“Tuxes?” Wesley asked working both skepticism and despondence into his voice.
“Lorne is right. We did know about this. I have done nothing except sign papers and approve preparations for it for the last two months…at least that it what it feels like. And we can’t let him down again. Remember what happened last time we didn’t take a party seriously enough?”
“Tuxes?” Wesley repeated.
Angel just patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.