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Buffy and Angel: In Sunlight and Shadow (Page 3)
By N.C.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all.

. . .

Chapter Three

It was then, in the middle of their conversation, that a very familiar deep voice said quietly, "I came, Buffy."

"Angel!" she cried, that one word expressing everything she couldn't say: the utter joy she felt at seeing him again, the pain, the love.

His eyes were warm, and the look he gave her was for her only. For a minute they were in their own little world. Then Buffy remembered.

"You're here on business, aren't you? For a minute it was just like..."

"I know."

Emily had no idea what was going on, but apparently she was the only one. Willow looked very surprised but kind of glad, and Xander looked distinctly angry and annoyed. Feeling left out, she left.

"So, what are you doing back here, Angel my man?" His words were cordial but his tone was cool.

"Nice to see you too, Xander. Buffy needed a little Slaying help."

"I'm glad you're back, Angel," Willow said quietly.

Angel nodded his head toward her in both thanks and greeting.

"We need to talk," Buffy said.

He nodded and walked with her out of earshot of the others. They looked at each other, really looked, and the old ache started up again in both their hearts. Buffy drank him in, every bit, memories almost overcoming her. Just seeing him made her pulse race, her desire double.

"Let's talk outside, shall we?" They stepped outside, and Buffy began.

"OK. Look, I know this is strictly business stuff, but I patrolled already earlier tonight. Can we just dance and have fun?"

Neither of them noticed Emily coming out of the bathroom; she stopped when she heard their voices, not wanting to interrupt and also immensely curious about them both.

"Dance and have fun? I take it you mean pretend to be a normal couple?"

"I mean would you please let me have as much as I can have while you're here? I know we can't ever let...anything...happen again, but you can't know how much I miss you."

"About as much as I miss you, Slayer." They smiled a little.

"Please, Angel? I know I shouldn't; I've already asked enough, but I'm asking you. Just one night to dance with me and let me love you!"

"If it were my choice you would always be free to love me, any way you wanted."

"In a way it still is your—"

His voice was intense and agonized. "NO!"

"I really shouldn't have said that." She looked up at him, ruefully. "But...will you dance? Just tonight? Can I just be Buffy, a teenage girl with her friends? Or are you going to force me to be The Slayer?"

"I didn't force you—"

"But you could."

"I think it's your choice." He stopped, and then went on. "Buffy...you know how much I would've loved it if this had worked out, but it didn't. You know how much I want to dance with you, to kiss you, to love you like I have before, but I can't."

"Dancing is only dancing. One evening."

"One thing leads to another."

Her voice was just as forceful as his had been a moment before. "It doesn't have to, Angel."

"This is more than I should be doing."

"But don't you see? It's what you can do! I'm not asking you to stay for the rest of my life here, wanting me and not being able to have me even when I'm right in front of you! I don't want to torture you more than I already have—"

"You are the one that makes my eternal life worth living, Buffy. You have never tortured me."

"Thank you, Angel."

"Since it's all I can do, I'll dance with you. Just tonight. After that, we'll kill the vamps and I'll have to go back."

"I wish you could stay."

"L.A. is home now, not Sunnydale."

"I know. Let's go inside and I'll get my night of joy."

"Not true joy," he said with a laugh. True joy, he couldn't have.

She felt, so acutely, the sadness behind the laughter, and she reached toward him, brushing her hand against his. But they both recoiled as if they had been shocked. Slowly, with a glance at each other, they walked inside.

. . .

Emily went around to the front entrance and got back to their table before Buffy and Angel did. Xander was apparently very mad.

"Where does he get off coming back here to interrupt our lives?" he fumed.

"Not interrupting, helping Buffy! I know you don't like him, but Angel isn't that bad!" Willow chided; she liked Angel well enough.

"Even Giles agreed it was good he left!"

What does this have to do with Uncle Giles? Emily thought curiously.

"May I point out--Giles already hates him."

Why would Giles hate him? I don't get it.

"You can't blame him, Willow! If he'd broken all your fingers, you would hate him too!"

Oh…ouch! This Angel guy was obviously not always a wonderful person!

"But I can blame you--you don't have a legimate reason."

"Now that's not—"

"It is fair—you're still jealous of him, Xand. You can't have Buffy and you don't even want her, but o-ho, when someone does, you're jealous. It's—"

"I am NOT jealous!"

Willow raised her eyebrows. "I don't agree with that."

"And neither do I," Buffy said, coming up behind him. "Giles may hate him, but he's not here and he's not my Watcher anymore. He can't tell me what to do, and he certainly won't help me, either. 'Oh, sorry, I have to go, and you have to become Miss Super Strong-Handle-it-Yourself. Bye!' What if I can't do that, you guys? I needed help, and Angel's someone I can depend on to—"

"To do what? Have a little—"

As she spoke, Buffy's voice was as cold and as hurt as he had ever hurt it in the years he had know her.

"Xander Harris, you're butting in where you really, really aren't wanted. It's none of your business what we do, and even if it was, you should know by now that we are never, ever, going to do anything again! This is one part of my past I don't want dug up, and you really aren't helping! Don't you think I'm upset enough? Giles abandoned me when I needed him, I'm not allowed to love the man I love, I spent weeks in a stupid pointless relationship with Spike because of that, I have to save the world every damn night, and I have you breathing down my neck about my private relationships! I don't need that, too!" She stalked off.

Very confused, Xander looked at Willow and Tara. "What did I do?" They rolled their eyes at each other.

"Why don't you go dance?" Tara urged.

Emily pulled Xander onto the dance floor, thinking about everything she had just heard.

. . .

Half a block away from the Bronze, still seething, she said, "Why don't you walk with me instead of behind me, Angel?" He did.

Together they walked the streets of Sunnydale. Her feet took her to his mansion without thought, and, realizing where she was going, he smiled to himself. When she got to the gate, she turned around, puzzled.

"Oh. I'm at your house."

He smiled a little wider. "I guess you're used to coming here."

"Your couch is my best friend." She was grinning back at him. Suddenly she flung her arms around him, burying her face in his black jacket. He held her for a long minute, gladder to be in her embrace than he could've said.

"You still want that night of dancing? You can't stay here." I wish you could, he thought.

I wish I could, she thought. "Yeah, let's go back there, dance and have fun, like I wanted."

He nodded seriously, more willing to do what she wanted, now that she had revealed her fraying nerves. "Sure." But he couldn't help adding, "Just don't expect—"

"All I want is to be able to see you in front of me for a few days. Then I can store it away in case I die before I can call you to my bedside for my last moments."

He didn't smile, just looked solemnly down at her. She hadn't cracked a smile either. It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all.

. . .

Willow looked gravely at Tara. "She really loves him."

"Yeah. I feel so bad for them, you know? They have no chance of being together..."

"Like we do."

"Yeah. You wanna dance, or go home, Will?"

"Home sounds good." They left quietly.

. . .

Angel and Buffy walked back to the Bronze slowly, taking their time and enjoying being together. Angel didn't know that anyone had been following him, for the other vampire had been far behind. Now his stalker was waiting in the bedroom of his mansion. But Angel's mind was on Buffy, as she walked beside him, and on their coming night of dancing.

Buffy felt Angel's brooding presence beside her, and she realized that he was the only person she knew who had that deep, mysterious thoughtfulness, as though he was thinking of dark things.

Which he probably is. She smiled to herself; he didn't notice. "Angel?"

He looked up, his dark gaze locking onto hers. She wanted to kiss him. Can I kiss you? Yeah, I'm going to ask that, sure. I already know the answer. She realized after a minute that she had stopped and was simply looking at him, a step closer than she had been just a second ago. She stepped back before he did by a fraction of a second, and looked down guiltily. "I can't wait to dance," she said lamely, knowing he would know she was lying. But he would also know what she had wanted to say. Or not say. Had wanted to do. Angel kept walking.

. . .

As she said his name, he looked up from his thoughts and found himself staring into her captivating eyes. He saw the longing there, and knew that he had that same yearning in his own face.

She wants to kiss me...and I want to kiss her back. Badly. But they couldn't. He noticed with surprise that they were right in front of each other. He stopped himself from bending toward her, and they stepped back from each other. She gave a lame excuse, and he took it silently, knowing as she had known he would what she was covering up. They kept walking toward the Bronze.

Not daring to grip his hand, but knowing he was following her, Buffy slipped into the Bronze and scouted around. Emily and Xander were talking at a table toward the front, but Willow and Tara were gone. For a second, drawn back in time, Angel wondered where Cordelia and her groupies were. He imagined Cordy sidling up to him, flirting blatantly with him as Buffy stood beside him, feeling ignored, until he would turn to her again, and their worlds would narrow to only each other…

But everything was different now. Cordelia was in L.A., and grown-up, and Angel had to stay away from Buffy. But it was hard. And he knew the longer they stayed near each other, the harder it would get, and soon enough…

I won't be here long enough for that to happen, he reassured himself.

. . .

Buffy scoped out the room. Xander and Emily were sitting at a table, talking, and Willow and Tara had already left. The current song was ending, and Buffy led Angel onto the dance floor. A new song was struck up, and, too late, Buffy heard the first soft strains of music. She looked up at Angel. Their love song was playing. His eyes told her his love and hunger as they wrapped their arms around each other.

"I give you this dance with all of my heart, Buffy," he whispered to her. She looked up at him lovingly, trusting him completely, as the song played.

They swayed in time together, and she leaned her head on his shoulder and danced in his arms. The song was quiet and intensely passionate. Overcome with love and desire, Buffy clung to Angel, her body pressed against his, her head fitting just under his chin. As the music came to a climax, he turned her slowly out and in again in a spiral. She loved every minute of this. Their dance expressed what could not ever be said. As she spun back in, she almost slammed against him, her head tipped up and her mouth near his. His lips brushed hers just as their eyes met. The knowledge of what he was doing stopped Angel for a second, but he gave in to her pleading eyes, and they kept dancing. When the song was over, they were sweaty more with the effort of holding back than the dance itself. In his arms, as she had spent so many long, sleepless nights wanting to be, Buffy let tears sting her eyelids. Angel saw them there. His smile was tragic.

He held her with a desperation that surpassed her Slayer strength, and she returned the long embrace. Though it was not at all what they wanted, they pulled apart.

"That should never have happened, any of it," she told him quietly. But he could see it was what she had wanted all along, and his silence answered her. It was what he had wanted, too. What they both still wanted.

They walked off the dance floor as another slow song started up. "It's late. You should go."

"Once upon a time," she said softly, as she relived the countless memories, "I said that to my friends as an excuse to meet you at your mansion."

"And once upon a time our passion got out of hand," he added.

She finished, "and so the vampire Angelus walked the Earth once more…thank God for Willow's powers—which she's no longer using."

"Meaning that doubly couldn't happen again."

"There is a way…to break off a kiss at the height of—"

"I know how to do it; we've done it before. But I don't want to have to do it again, Buffy."

"I want something to remember when you go back."

"You have plenty to remember. Too much."

"Not what I want."

He held her shoulders in a tight vise, using his vampire strength to his full advantage. His gaze was very fierce and warning. "We can never have what you want, not even a kiss. That was stupid of me, giving you ideas—"

"So now the ideas are all mine?" she said acidly, glaring at him and shaking off his hands from her shoulders. His face was calm as he shook his head.

"That was—"

"It's alright. I have to go. I have to—"

"I have to hold you until the dawn, in my arms, forever…" he whispered, like a song, pulling her back into his arms. They were leaning against a pillar now, and once again, she was tantalizingly close to him. For a second, he felt her arms tighten around him, then she ducked out of the circle of his arms, not letting herself do anything more.

"I'll see you at your mansion tomorrow evening."

He nodded, and watched as she left, knowing they had gone much farther than they should've and not as far as either of them wanted.

. . .

Emily had been gone for at least ten minutes, but Xander was still around. Just then he saw Buffy and Angel on the dance floor. They looked like any other couple—with one difference. She was beginning to cry, held in his arms. It was then that Xander really listened to the song playing, and he realized it was a special one for Buffy and her vampire love. He watched them holding each other tightly; watched as they left the dance floor, talking quietly; watched as she turned away and he pulled her back. It looked like they were going to kiss, but they didn't. She said something else to him, and walked away. He watched her closely, just as Xander watched him, then turned the other way and left himself.

. . .

Angel got back to his mansion to find a fire burning on the hearth. Drusilla was sitting there, waiting for him. She rushed to him, wiggled in close to him, but he quickly pushed her back, Buffy still fresh in his mind and his heart.

"Drusilla, you shouldn't have come."

"You're my Angel!"

"Why did you come?"

"I wanted to." She stepped back from him and he saw that the wine red, long Victorian dress she wore was creased and dirty, though her face was clean.

"Where did you go?" Suddenly he was alarmed.

"Had some dinner," she said off-handedly.

"Where, Drusilla?"

She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the graveyard. "There."

"Shit!" he swore, changing into his vampire face as he pinned her against the wall. She whimpered in fright, and he felt like a cruel monster as he snarled at her,

"Don't ever follow me again, Dru. I don't want you around me, and I don't love you. Spike loves you. Go back to L.A., or go find Spike."

"But I love you, my Angel!"

"Why don't you go find Spike, Dru." He was firm and angry.

She began to whine. "But you're my baby!"

He kept working on her, trying desperately to get her out of his sight before his need for Buffy's love drove him to stupidity with Drusilla. "You're the only one who understands Spike. He needs you. He's looking for you right now." He didn't know that that was true, only that Spike had left Sunnydale. "Or there are demons in the vampire world who would certainly like you…"

"Yes, yes," she chanted, mesmerized by his talk.

He hoped this would work. "So let's go to the vampire underground and see if anyone has seen him."

"Yes, yes!" Dru repeated. She walked out of the mansion, and he quickly followed her, making sure she got to the right place.

. . .

Buffy unlocked the front door to her house and walked inside. Willow and Tara, painting together in the living room, waved and smiled as she went by. Buffy smiled back and walked upstairs. She checked on Dawn first—she was sleeping peacefully in her clothes—and then walked into her bedroom and flicked on the light. Immediately, she saw that someone had been there. The window was open, and her picture of Angel was in the middle of her bed.

"Angel," she whispered, knowing it was he. Angel was the only one who knew where that picture would be, the only one besides her who even knew it existed. And who else would have been able to get in? No one but other vampires, and she hadn't invited any in but Spike, and he was gone.

"It was Angel." She spoke aloud to the empty room as she held the picture in shaking hands for a minute, and then got ready for bed, the face of a certain vampire etched in her mind.

. . .

The first places they went were a number of badly reputed bars. Nowhere had they seen Spike, though apparently he was a frequent customer in many. After a while, as Dru got feverishly excited when one bartender mentioned having heard of him being in a San Francisco bar a few weeks ago, Angel left the smoky, noisy interior of the current place they were looking and walked back to his mansion, hoping he had got Drusilla off his back, at least until he got back to L.A.

. . .

For once, it was an interesting patrol. Even before Buffy got to his mansion, Angel was there. She felt his presence nearby.

"Angel?" Her voice was a little uncertain, and as he detached himself from the shadows, he saw her stiffen slightly.

He told her softly, "It's only me."

She smiled up at him as he paced along beside her, and he smiled back. Just a little, but it was enough. Neither of them mentioned the night before.

As a blonde vampire stepped into their path, she fought it down, pinning him to the ground. Angel ran a stake through the thing's heart and they were already walking away as it exploded into dust.

Sweat ran down Buffy's back in little rivulets, and she shifted uncomfortably, thinking, I can't believe this. Am I really nervous in front of Angel? It can't be possible.

But she was. Feeling tense and slightly unreal, she walked beside her old boyfriend, her stake in hand, muscles ready. As usual, vampires rushed them on every side. Punch, kick, flip, land on a vampire's chest, stake it, and go on. In a way, Faith was right: Slaying had a powerful appeal, and a power that every Slayer held in her grasp. But Buffy was not addicted to killing, like Faith had been, like she still was, in L.A. She was just doing her job as the Slayer. It was something she had to do.

. . .

Angel dropped automatically into the rhythm of Slayage. It was so easy, even after all this time. He knew why, too: because he was a born predator and a fighter. A vampire.

No, don't drive that home right now, he told himself. But Angel was very well adjusted to the guilt he was feeling just then; it was a guilt he had lived with for more than a hundred years, and would bear for an eternity, a weight on his shoulders he could never get off, torturing him forever.

That's what the Romany curse did to me.

He quickly picked up on Buffy's uptight nervousness; he saw how tense and sweaty she had gotten, even while they fought together. But after a while he knew she no longer really noticed him, wrapped up in her world of Slaying. She was on a role, her own individual role, and soon enough he saw her confidence come back to her. Focusing on her helped distract him from other, less pleasant thoughts.

She was as athletically fit and trim as ever, and as powerful in her attacks, which he both applauded and expected. She was also stronger than when he had last seen her fight; but then, he hadn't been on patrol with her for a while. They patrolled in grim silence, and the atmosphere was no longer one of companionable togetherness, but of work. It wasn't long until they found themselves surrounded by the Green Eyed X's. That was when Buffy really valued Angel.

He went vamp and dove into the fray, staking six in quick succession, but soon they both realized it was hopeless. They slayed one and three more followed. Buffy got at least a dozen before she was too worn and tired to do much more, and Angel, despite coming back from a long break, must have got fifteen. Just as Buffy was swamped and beaten down to the ground, struggling for breath, the vampires stopped, and spoke two words, more frightening because of the scared awe in their voices.

"Top X." One tall, very, very beautiful vampire walked toward Buffy and Angel, who now stood beside each other, unwilling to give in. The vampire had long, wavy red hair, green eyes, and a coy but cruel smile. She had on an old fashioned dress of heavy material. It rustled as she walked, bright green with a flaring skirt.

"So we meet again…Liam."

"I always wondered what happened to you, Elizabeth. For some reason, when I murdered them, you weren't there. Already changed, were you, Liza?"

"They call me Top X now."

"And they call me Angel."

"Angelus. 'The scourge of—"

"Wouldn't you rather fight than talk? I gather you two are old human friends," Buffy said curtly, stepping up to the vampire.

"Defiant little one, Liam. You always wanted more than you could have."

"Be careful with her--Top X."

"Getting modern, are we now? I should be calling you Angel, then." She was mocking him, and he was angry. Buffy could feel it.

Buffy thought, She doesn't realize he's no longer a weakling human young man from the 1800s. He's dangerous now. The Slayer had felt that danger and had seen him fighting with it, but never had he unleashed it, and his anger, as he did now, jumping on the other vampire, his voice "I'm not the man you knew, Elizabeth. The pride you want to stomp on isn't there anymore. You don't know my vulnerable spots anymore; you don't know what will hurt me."

"Oh, but I think I do." The other vampire signaled with one hand at her minions, and they latched onto Buffy--all of them.

. . .

Emily spent two hours at it, but she finally convinced Xander. By evening, they had everything arranged for a summer car-washing job. Xander called Willow.

"Hey, Will, we were thinking…" In another few minutes, both Willow and Tara agreed to the plan.

. . .

Buffy was desperate. She needed Angel's help, but he was busy with Top X. Then she had an idea. She let the vampires pin her to the ground, but kept one hand free, with her stake in it.

"Get DOWN, Angel!" she screamed, launching the stake into the air. It whistled like an arrow through the air, and straight into Elizabeth's heart.

In front of her, Angel heard the whispered words, "'till death do us part." Or at least, he thought he did, before the loud death screams that the vampire wailed as she dusted. He turned from her, feeling almost sick.

Why? He asked himself. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Ever since I first heard her name, I hated Elizabeth. But…maybe… All of a sudden, he knew what it was that made him feel this way. I enjoyed her death. I liked to watch her die. Even with his soul, he had reveled in the death of one he had despised.

"I'm terrible," he moaned to Buffy, blindly reaching for her. Knowing what he needed, she let him hold her painfully hard, burying his face in her hair.

"You aren't terrible, Angel, not to me. Never to me."

"Yes I am. Elizabeth was my younger sister's best friend, and I hated her. She always loved me. When I went to kill them all, she wasn't there. Someone had already turned her, and she escaped. So I never got to kill her. And just now, you did it for me…" He stopped, and looked into her eyes, his face a mask of pain. "…And now I'm mad at you, because I didn't get my kill. Even now, even with my soul, I'm—"

"Angel." She was asking him, without words, to stop.

"A vampire," he finished. At least, she thought he had finished, and she prepared to break away, but he whispered, "You know what we are?"

"I have several versions, but I suspect you have a new one." She didn't smile. For some reason, many things that should have been jokes only broke their hearts.

"Sunlight and shadow," he said, ignoring her witty comment.

"Oh_____, that's a cruel one," she said, with emotional pain making her face squinty.

He nodded. "I'm good at that." She said nothing, neither agreeing nor denying.

"We should keep going."

Without looking at her, he said very quietly, "Or I could leave." Still holding him, still loving it, Buffy collapsed onto his shoulder.

"I was afraid you would say that."

"It's what I'll have to do eventually. There's no reason—" Her eyes were sad as his gaze caught hers, but all she said was,

"Walk me home?"

"You know—"

"We can't, we won't, but—"

"No, Buffy." He began to walk away.

As Buffy watched the only man she had ever love leave her, she couldn't control the sobs that wracked her body. "Angel!" she cried in dismayed agony. He turned, just a little, and saw her there, crying with the dust of vampires all around her, and Elizabeth's minions running away. Sorrow and want pulled him back to her, and as she stood, without daring to touch him, and cried.

"Everyone's…gone…Giles…left…you're…in…L.A…even...Spike…said he…loved me…but he...left. He was…convenient, but…he was…there...when I...needed to get…some…of it…out! And now…everyone's…gone!"

He hugged her for a long minute, comforting her as no one else could. Finally she stepped back and asked again,

"Walk me home?"

"Sure."

They walked quickly back to her house. On the walkway, she stopped, looked at him, and nodded. He turned away. But suddenly, the need he felt exploded inside of him, and he whipped around, taking her into his arms as though she had never left, holding her gently.

. . .

Dawn was staring moodily out at the crescent moon when she saw Buffy walking home. But it wasn't just Buffy. Angel was by her side. Dawn watched as they came to the edge of the yard and looked at each other lovingly. She winced as he turned away, and then smiled when they were locked in each other's arms. She thought, then, that he would leave again…but he didn't, not yet. Dawn turned away and busied herself with other things. This was private.

. . .

Buffy felt Angel's hands firm against the small of her back, felt his lips come down on hers, and closed her eyes, reaching her arms around his cold neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. For a long moment, they kissed without a breath, bittersweet and full of both love and terrible sadness. It felt like honey and bliss, smooth and sweet, yet so passionate and filled with want that it was rough. She wanted to stay in his arms forever, to always feel their lips meeting, to always know that she was safe in the circle of his embrace. To know that she had someone to love for as long as she lived. But the moment had to end.

With an inner strength he hadn't known he possessed, Angel brought his head up and looked at Buffy.

"You shouldn't have—"

"That was so not a one-way kiss."

"I know." The painful knowledge and guilty sorrow on his face was reflected in her own.

"You have to go," she said, very half-heartedly. She never wanted him to go. Her hands lingered against his chest as she pushed him away, then they wrenched away from each other, harder than they wanted to, and Angel walked slowly down the sidewalk without looking back, his head bowed, shoulders slumped. Buffy felt the same way. She let the tears run fall on her Slaying outfit as she gazed after him, wishing with all her being that he would stay, knowing he couldn't, and that she might never see him again.

. . .

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