Melting the Ice: Melting the Ice
by Tannith
Melting the Ice
by Tannith
Okay, just in case anyone's not sure, I don't own any of the characters, Riverdance belongs to whoever owns it now that Michael Flatley left, and Brahms lullaby probably belongs to an estate somewhere. I'm not making money. I hope you enjoy, and please, write me
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Tuesday night. It was cold, even more so where Angel was standing. He was at the ice rank staring down on the empty ice from his place in the rafters. From where he'd watched Buffy skate a short week ago. He had watched her glide, peaceful, serene. He had wanted to go to her, but had been unwilling to disturb her. So he had left, and come back to a scene still fresh in his mind.
His eyes unfocused as he remembered. Buffy gasping for air. A man uglier than a vampire's worst nightmare pinning her down. He had charged, uncontrollable, at the man, the demon fierceness welling up from him, overwhelming even his distaste for her to see him with his demon face. Anything to save her, even risking losing her for good. She had fought, to, and had taken the man out with a well-placed skate blade. So agile and strong, but that was not what was most amazing about her.
No, that was what had happened afterward. He remembered the feel of her hand on his face, like gentleness as she stroked at the cut as it bled blood that was not his own. Self-hatred and revulsion that he felt towards himself that made him almost wish to die.
But most of all this: she didn't even notice his face. She's didn't care. Wasn't repulsed by the demon inside of him. She had only seen that he was wounded and she wanted to be the one to help him.
And then, miracle of miracles, she had kissed him, fangs and all, her eyes drawing him deeper. Angel's mouth parted slightly as he remembered that kiss. All the emotions wrapped so tightly He couldn't even begin to decipher them. But there was one he had recognized, in her and in him, that had made him forget all the rest. And it was love. True love. And that was enough for him.
He remembered the feel of his arms around her, her warmth through the thin jacket and leggings as he lifted her off the ice. Her scent as he buried his face in her hair. The scent that he had later found on his pillow. That had been one sleepless day. His mind drifted back to when he had watched her skate, and he smiled.
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Buffy shook her head as she realized where her random night's ramblings had taken her. Girl, you have got it bad she thought to herself. Before her stood the ice-rink, which in her mind still equated to safety. Of course, that wasn't the only reason her subconscious had brought her here. Angel. She had felt so safe at the rink, in his arms, in his bed. In his beautifully decorated lair. Safe because of his aura. But she didn't dare go back to him. She had almost gotten him staked. And that was something she would risk anything, even losing him, to prevent.
So she did as he had urged her to do, she skated. Getting in was no problem. The door's lock was so easy to pick that a two-year-old could have managed it. She grabbed a pair of good skates form the skate shop and laced up. Angel had been right, skating was relaxing, it let her feel like the child in her wasn't quite gone.
Angel. the word brought up so many emotions, but the only one she cared to feel was love. She glided along the ice, letting her feet perform their old duties as she remembered.
She had fallen, hitting the rail, and a strong arm had hauled her up by the neck and proceeded to strangler her.
"Buffy, NO!!!" shouted from across the room and Angel had dashed in to save her.
By the time she had regained he breath, Angel was in trouble. She had charged in, and taken out the evil doer. Yet she had not been fast enough, Angel had gotten scratched above his left eye, and that beautiful face was something she protected fiercely.
She had reached out to caress his wound, but he had shrunken from her touch as from holy water and turned away, for reasons she did not then understand.
Upon asking the problem, she had discovered something about herself. The vampire in him no longer scared her, in truth she had not even noticed. And when her heart had reached out to the self-hatred she had heard in his voice, she had come to another startling realization; she truly loved him, more than life, more than her nature screamed at her that he was evil. She loved him.
But love is not an easy thing for a sixteen-year-old girl, and so she skated out her worries, letting the physical take precedence over the mental. She skated, and lost herself in a world of ice and emotion intertwined.
* * *
At first, Angel had thought the slice of blade into fresh ice was just part of his daydream. Then he opened his eyes and realized it was not. She was there, on the ice, skating, her eyes half-closed. He had never seen her so relaxed. She was no longer 'Buffy, the vampire slayer,' she was 'Buffy, the teenage girl.' He loved to watch her, so graceful, so elegant, so comfortable gliding on a surface which most could not even stand upon.
He hated to disturb her, yet even more so did he wish to be with her, to fell her in his arms, her eyes in his, and, even more, his mouth on hers.
Yet there was still that intense disdain for anything that would disturb her. Deciding on a plan, he went into the sound-booth and put Riverdance on at a barely audible level, and stole a pair of skates from the shop as well.
While not as adept as she, he was capable of standing and gliding on his own. He stepped out onto the ice as the first strains of Heart's Cry came on. He skated by her slowly, so as not to startle her.
He took her hand and kissed it, locking eyes with her. Her eyes were so deep, and when they turned to him they were filled with love, and worry. He couldn't remove his eyes from hers. Dropping his hands, he grasped her by the waist, silently wondering at how perfectly his hands fit on that depression right above her hip. He lifted her up, and marveled at how light she was. Then all true consciousness was lost as he fell once more into her eyes. They were together, and nothing could go wrong.
* * *
Buffy couldn't tell how long Angel had been there, nor did she care. He was, that was all that mattered. She drank in his aura, the feel of his hand on hers, his fingers on her waist, his eyes boring into hers. They were together, and all the problems she feared took a back seat to her bliss.
They drifted together on the ice, oblivious to all but each other. They drifted past the end of the CD, past the beginning of Wednesday, past caring. For them it might have well been eternity.
And then they were back from their dream world. But they brought a piece of it back with them. Had there been any observers as that moment, they would have realized that not even death could separate this pair. Even Xander would have been forced to concede the victory.
As they glided to a stop, Angel took both of her hands in his, saying "Buffy, I must be near you, I'm going insane without you. Yet I fear for you, how can you truly love me, being what I am? I must repulse…"
She cut him off "I am able to love you because I do with all my heart. You will never repulse me. Never. I can not fear you, I will not, ever. I don't' know what that means for the future, but, come what may, I'm ready for to face it, as long as you are with me."
"Forever, my love."
They sat that night out together, first at the park, then at his lair. They spoke rarely, communicating instead by the empathy they shared. And, finally, as dawn rose on the other side of cold concrete walls, Angel fell asleep for the day, his head in Buffy's lap, as she sung him to sleep with Brahms' lullaby.
Fin
For those of you who don't know Brahms' Lullaby, it goes like this:
Lullaby, and good night,
With roses bedight,
Guardian Angels will appear,
So sleep with out fear,
They will guard you from harm,
You will sleep in their arms,
When the morning is bright,
You will wake with the light.
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