You Didn't Come.: You didn't come
by inlovewithangel
Angel pulled his coat more tightly around him. To anyone else it would look as if he was protecting himself against the chilly night air of Sunnydale. But it was purely a habit: Angel’s dead body didn’t feel the cold. He made a left, and found himself looking at the block which held his ex- lover’s home. I shouldn’t be here, he thought to himself as he took a few more tentative steps towards the house. This isn’t my place anymore.

Angel had made the trip to Sunnydale with one objective in mind: To check on her. She had been brought back from the dead almost three months ago, and he had still not come to see her. Angel had wanted to stay out of sight, to watch from the shadows, but he had tried that once, and it had ended in a day that only he remembered. So now, he was back, after three years of having left, and he was nervous.

Willow had sent him a letter, and a picture of Buffy and Dawn. The letter had told him of Buffy’s non-responsiveness after having been brought back from heaven. It had explained that she didn’t have that same will to live that she had before she had died. It told him that she felt empty, alone, and tired. Buffy was exhausted at having to begin again in this world. Willow had written that Buffy called for him during sleep. Willow’s anger that he had not come to see the woman he loved was evident. Angel had cried, his love was in obvious pain, and he cursed himself for not coming to see her sooner. He cursed himself for not having returned to Sunnydale to aid in her fight against Glory, and finally he cursed himself in having left at all. But what was done was done.

The picture of the sisters had left him with a new batch of tears. The picture had meant to have been lovely, a depiction of the two beautiful young women. But it was not. The two girls’ eyes held pain and fear. Buffy’s green ones were practically glazed with it. Her tight smile was fake, and she looked too thin. She had always been small, but she was verging now on looking anorexic. Dawn was almost taller than her sister, and her smile looked as if it was there only to hide the tears that would soon begin to spill. It was then that Angel had told his colleagues that he had to go. Just for a while.

So now he stood right outside the door. The house reminded him of times past, when things were different. Simpler. Happier. He brought up a fist, and knocked. The door swung open, and Angel shut his eyes before he could catch sight of his golden- haired beauty.

“Angel?” The voice was filled with incredulity, but it was not Buffy’s. It was male, and British.

Angel’s eyes flew open. “Spike?” He looked at his own fledgling and confusion filled him. “What are you doing here?”

“Mate, I believe that question belongs to me.” Spike’s voice was filled with resentment, anger, and… Jealousy, Angel thought.

“I’m here to see Buffy.” Angel once again pulled his leather coat around him, in a defensive manner. “Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s here. She’s sleeping,” Spike began. Angel moved to step inside but Spike brought up his arm, barring Angel entry. “I can’t let you in, mate.” Spike shook his head.

“What?” Angel asked, his lip curling in fury. How dare he?

“Let’s say I let you in. You two will see each other, and dance around the fact that you two are still in love. And then you’ll leave again, like you always do, and be done with it, until the next time you get a hankering to see the girl you love. But, with her, it’s different. She’ll see you, and it’ll tear her apart for days. Buffy doesn’t need this. Especially not now, especially not from you.” Spike now had Angel at arm’s length, his hand in the middle of his grandsire’s chest. “Sorry, mate.”

Angel was shocked. He had never seen Spike act this protective, this… loving towards anyone. Not even Drusilla. Spike honestly believes he has her best interests at heart here. But Angel was not be deterred. He had her best friend’s testimony as proof. “Willow said—” But Spike cut him off.

“Let me give you a crash course in what’s been going on with the Scoobies these past few months, years, even. Willow no longer knows her best friend. Willow doesn’t really understand humanity anymore, or she won’t soon. Willow tore Buffy out of heaven, knowing that there could be consequences. She’s heavy into the Black Magicks, fighting a losing battle to keep her powers at bay, and I’m taking bets at how long she can last before something inside of her snaps. Xander, the good ole Xand Man, is breaking under the pressure of being engaged. That’s right, engaged, to the ex-demon. Dawnie is deteriorating. She has no mum, and an older sister who is trying hard to keep herself sane. So. Don’t think you can come down here and make everything better. Kiss her and make it all go away. We’re fighting a war here, and I’m not talking about our various Hellmouth nasties.” Spike looked in disgust at Angel. Once again, Angel found himself shocked. “Feel bad, do ya?” Spike asked, off the expression on Angel’s face. “Good.” Spike took a step back and tried to close the door in Angel’s face, but Angel’s hand flew up and held it open. Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. “You left, mate. You had your choice, and chance. And you left.”

Angel finally let his hand fall to his side, and the door crashed shut. Angel felt tears well up in his eyes. Was what Spike had said true? Had things really gotten that bad? Were they that desperate? When Angel had first come to Sunnydale he had had no one. Buffy and the others were the first to become what he’d call his friends. And now he’d left them all, without so much as a glance backward, and they were all suffering, and he hadn’t even known. Angel felt guilty. It was not uncommon for him to feel this emotion, it was constantly with him, but this was one of the first times he had felt guilty because of his own actions, and not Angelus’. Angel turned to leave, and he began walking away, like so many times before.

Meanwhile, Buffy was beginning to stir. She opened her eyes and looked at her clock. 12:00. It was dark outside. That meant midnight. Why had she awoken? Buffy suddenly became frighteningly aware of the tingling that was slowly increasing throughout her entire body. She immediately recognized it. Angel’s here. She sat up and threw the covers off of her. Buffy briefly thought about putting on some clothes over the simple tank top and underwear she’d worn to bed but thought, what the hell. He’s seen what I have to offer. Buffy raced out of her room, and down the steps. She saw Spike sitting down on the couch, reaching for the remote.

“Where’s Angel?” she demanded. Spike turned and looked her up and down. He raised his eyebrows. “Spike?”

“Um…” Spike tore his eyes away from the girl’s small frame. “How did you know… He left.”

“What? Why?” Buffy frowned, and took in Spike’s uncomfortable expression. “What did you say?”

“Does it matter, pet? He shouldn’t be coming down here like he knows…” Spike trailed off when he saw Buffy tear out of the front door, leaving it ajar in her haste.

Once outside, Buffy shivered at the cold. She looked one way but saw nothing. She turned her head toward the other side of the street. She saw his large frame walking, defeated, towards the end of the block. His long coat billowed at behind him. Buffy ran as fast as she could to reach him.

“Angel!” Buffy called out. She stopped a few feet away as he turned around.

“Buffy?” He squinted, and saw his lover, dressed in nothing but a thin top and panties. “Jesus,” he said, as he slipped his coat off of his broad shoulders and whipped it onto her own. She accepted it gladly and drew it around her. Angel realized that Buffy was going to cry a few seconds before she actually did. He drew her close to him, so that her sobs were muffled by his chest. Suddenly she pulled away, so that she was looking up into his eyes.

“You didn’t come.” There was intense anger in her voice, and he felt worse than he had ever felt. But then her face softened. “But you’re here now.” She sniffed. “Spike was wrong you know. Whatever he said about me that made you leave, he was wrong.” He felt his tears fall as she sunk back into his arms. Angel crumbled for some reason, and then found themselves holding each other on the sidewalk, sobbing.

“I’m sorry Buffy. Please. Tell me everything.” Angel stroked her hair, and Buffy felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Relief. Hope. Maybe everything will be okay, she thought. Yes. I think it will.


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