Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Twentieth Century Fox own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. This story chronicles the offscreen meeting between Buffy and Angel in Season 6 when she was resurrected. As always, read and review, for better or for worse. BTW, for the curious, the mention of tabula rasa has nothing to do with the episode of that name; it means something along the lines of, “blank mind.” Yeah, it’s kind of a nifty little reference that way, but don’t try to read too much into it. :) And many, MANY thanks to Jane Davitt for taking the time to help me sort out the rough spots. If any still exist, please, PLEASE tell me.
Denial is Bliss
by MegaSilver
Buffy flopped her head backwards as she sat on the park bench, staring up at the gradually darkening sky. Any minute now, she thought to herself, still unsure of what to expect. At least they hadn’t agreed to meet in Sunnydale or L.A; then one of them would’ve had to stay.
Sighing, she focused her attention toward the west, resting her eyes on the colors that radiated from the sun, which had almost completely disappeared over the horizon. What a mockery. She felt as though someone wanted to taunt her, to show her a piece of the bliss she could never have. I can’t enjoy anything. A few moments away from it all, and then it’d be over, she knew. Back to the bills, back to taking care of Dawn, back to trying to slay demons through this hell… she could never get rid of it all. Nothing to see. Nothing to look forward to. No hope—
“Buffy.” At the familiar voice, the Slayer quickly rose to her feet to face her Angel for the first time in what seemed like years, although she knew that to him, it had been less than one. She stared into his dark, melancholy eyes, longing for nothing more than to stroke his ageless face, to feel his arms wrapped around her.
“Angel.” Hesitantly, she reached out to touch him. I just have to know he’s really here.
“Buffy!” Angel swept her into a tight, soothing—if not exactly warm—embrace. “I thou—I thought I’d—never—see you—again.”
Buffy’s breaths became increasingly frequent and intense. She hadn’t expected it to be quite like this… Angel distraught while she remained strangely detached and apathetic. No, not so much apathy as stupefaction, so much thrown at her mind that it wanted to snap into tabula rasa mode. In the last few weeks, amidst all the chaos of her post-revivification trauma, one thing had been clear: she had wanted to die. She’d wanted nothing more than to escape this world. And now, as she stood here in Angel’s arms, that desire—the one spot of clarity in the tangled mess that was her life—was diminishing.
“Angel, I—” Buffy’s voice was cracking as her happiness acclimated. “I’m out of hell,” she whispered.
Angel drew back just enough to see Buffy’s face. “What? You were—”
Buffy opened her mouth, the words momentarily unable to come out. “I—no. I mean, I’m… back… in heaven. I was out and… I’m back.”
“Buffy, I don’t understand. What happened? Where were you?”
“I was in heaven. They tore me out, but I’m back.”
“You… you were pulled out of heaven?” Angel could scarcely believe it. When he’d been in hell, the torment had been unbearable, but to experience perfection and have it all taken away… it was a wonder Buffy was still able to speak after such trauma. “Oh, Lord—”
Buffy put a finger to his lips. “Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay. I’m with you now.” She pressed her lips against his, kissing him passionately. She broke for a moment, only to say, “I love you,” and then resumed.
Angel kissed her back, careful to remember what must happen in a few minutes. Just as he thought he might crack, he drew apart from her. “What… what was it like?”
“Just like this,” Buffy replied. “I’m loved. I’m not worried because I know everything’s just right. And I’m finished.” She kissed him again. “This is heaven.”
She means me, Angel realized. She’s not living her real life right now. There was so much more he wanted to know: Is everyone okay? Can she handle Dawn? Does she need anything? Alas, he knew that in her present state, Buffy couldn’t take such pressure, shouldn't have this meeting prolonged. She was emotionally high, almost delirious. She couldn’t see the world around her; she could only see him. It pained him to leave so soon, with so many unanswered questions. And yet… Buffy needed him to go.
“I have to go,” he told her. He started to turn away.
“No, you don’t,” moaned Buffy. She pulled him back to her and into another kiss.
Angel pushed her away as gently as he could. “Buffy, you know I have to,” he said firmly.
Buffy just stood there, staring at Angel, her expression gradually evolving from shocked to confused to hurt. “Please don’t.” Her lip quivered. “It’s all okay when you’re here. You make it just right for me.”
“And I can’t be with you, Buffy; you know that.”
Buffy swallowed hard. “I can’t do this.”
“You have to,” Angel told her. “You have to be strong, Buffy.” He took her into his arms once more.
“I’m not,” she murmured. A tear ran down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight. Her heart was pounding. “I want out. This is hell.”
Shanshu. As he held her, Angel suddenly remembered the words Wesley had spoken to him over a year ago: “You’re going to live.” “You’ll make it,” he promised her. “You have to. I have to know that you’re okay.” He kissed her forehead, then let her go and began to walk back to his car, but stopped after a few steps. “Do you—need a ride to the bus stop?”
Buffy shook her head and looked away, unable to face Angel anymore. “I’d never get out of the car.”
Angel nodded, bowed his head, and made his way across what seemed like miles to get to his car. He felt like he should say goodbye, but he couldn’t. He simply started up the engine, put the car in gear, and drove away into the night.
As the sound of Angel’s engine faded away, Buffy fell to her knees, right there in the middle of the park, and cried. There it had been, a break in her dank, dreary life cycle… but what a hard break. To rise up and then come crashing down; it was more than she could handle. But she was not unaccustomed to the feeling. From a world full of hate to heaven and back; from a world of confusion into Angel’s arms and back… she could have sworn she was cursed.
Buffy wept for what felt like hours, though in reality, it was less than ten minutes. As she neared the end of her lamentation, she gradually came to realize that it was denial that had extricated her from her hell on Earth. In those few moments in Angel’s arms, she had once again ascended to her heavenly plane, loved unconditionally, denying the world around her. Now, she testified in favor of the statement, “Denial is bliss.” Her place in the next life was not yet meant to be, nor was her love with Angel meant to be. She was needed here, in this world. Her presence could not be denied to it. The only thing she had to look forward to now was her eventual true, final death, her escape at last to heaven.
And though she didn’t know it, Angel knew of a heaven on Earth for Buffy and for himself—a time when their love would not be denial of their destinies, but consummation of them.
It would all unfold in time.
THE END
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