“Cordelia?” Doyle called as he settled himself in front of the TV set.
“Hmm?”
“Aren’t you from Sunnydale?” he asked as he watched the local news.
“Ah… the sweet, soul-sucking pit of destruction that used to be the center of my universe. Yeah, why?” Cordy mumbled around a piece of toast as she sat next to Doyle.
“Seems they have a wee bit of a problem,” he said as he turned up the volume on the newscast.
“Tonight’s top story comes from a small southern town known as Sunnydale. It seems the entire population has a very contagious form of laryngitis, preventing anyone from even uttering a word. The officials at the CDC have quarantined the residents in fear of a pandemic, but have issued no statement as to the cause of the outbreak. More later as details become available.”
“Oh my god! This is so awesome!” Cordy squealed, her eyes huge.
“Uh, why’s that?” Doyle was genuinely confused.
“That means Xander Harris can’t utter a word! Oh this is so poetic justice!” she smirked.
“Bit petty, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it is pretty! Big mismatched doofus can’t say a single word…oh the joy of seeing such a pretty sight,” Cordy laughed and sighed, leaning her head against the back of the couch.
“I said… oh never mind,” Doyle sighed, moping his face.
“Never mind what?” Angel asked in his usual brooding tone from the doorway.
“Nothing…nope, nada…zip, zero…Coke Zero even!” Cordy hastily explained, hoping to avoid a lengthy discussion about Sunnydale… and those who inhabited it.
“Nice try. Doyle?”
“Sounds like something serious is going on down there…nobody can talk,” Doyle answered, wondering why Cordy was getting agitated.
“No other details?” Angel groused as he came to stand behind the couch, arms crossed.
“The devil’s in the details,” Cordelia muttered under her breath.
“Vampire Cordy, try thinking it next time if you don’t really want anyone else to know,” Angel admonished.
“I’m thinking that this whole thing is not going to have a warm fuzzy ending,” she said as she got up and faced Angel, pointing at him with what was left of her toast.
“And that’s just what we’re about isn’t it…warm fuzzies,” Angel deadpanned.
“Ugh, and so the evil black hole of Sunnydale begins with caustic, but witty comebacks,” Cordy spat.
Angel frowned and then looked at Doyle, who had his hand over his mouth and eyebrows raised. “Is she always this cheerful around you?”
“Why, she’s me little pot o’gold at the end of me rainbow,” Doyle drawled as he put his hand over his heart.
“Get out of my facial,” Cordy huffed to the two men and left the room.
“Was that a hint that she wants some time off?” Angel asked Doyle as he sat on the coffee table that faced the other man.
“That was code for ‘I’m a jealous lass’,” Doyle assured Angel with a sad smile.
Ignoring his comment, Angel narrowed his eyes on the Irish man. “Have you had any visions about Buffy lately?”
Doyle quickly looked away, but it was enough to prod Angel to speak. “What did you see?”
“Well I couldn’t be sure. Either I was having a flashback after having just watched the movie Batman, or there are some major characters in Sunnydale. But there’s something else though…a group is trying to harm something or someone close to her, and she’s not taking it lightly. There is also a presence, male…obsessed with her, dangerous – because she underestimates him. It’s all very jumbled, so I didn’t think anything of it,” Doyle said with a shrug, rubbing his temple to ease the ache.
“Should I go?” Angel asked quietly. The last run in he had with Buffy was still fresh in his mind and kept his heart in a constant vice grip of aching and longing.
“Depends. Are you going to let her see you this time?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes, but you should give her one as well. Talk to her, let her see you. Take Cordy with you. I have a feeling she’s going to save the day on this one,” Doyle winked at a deeply frowning Angel.
“She’ll cure everyone of laryngitis?” Angel scoffed.
“In a manner of speaking. Never underestimate that woman’s lungs,” Doyle said in mock horror.
Angel blew out an unneeded breath and rubbed his eyes. “Great. SunnyHell, here we come.”
****************************************************************************************
The dream always started the same, but changed by the time it finished. It was like someone had pushed the rewind button in Buffy’s brain, only to have the movie play a different outcome each time. She tried to remember so many times in the past few weeks since she’d been having the dream, but it was an elusive memory that she never caught. That was, until she slept next to Spike for the second time.
‘No…no you…didn’t,’ Buffy mumbled in her mind.
The feather-light words flitted across Spike’s dozing mind, causing him to slowly open his eyes and gaze on a sleeping Buffy. She looked fretful in sleep as her forehead scrunched up in apparent pain, her lips sagging into a deep frown.
‘Mohra is dead…we killed him!’ she pleaded frantically to Spike’s mind as he watched her bottom lip start to tremble.
‘Bloody hell, I can hear the chit dreamin,’ Spike pondered as he fully came awake to watch her. He didn’t dare wake her, feeling whatever was inside of her needed to get out in the open, and dreams were very conducive to doing just that.
‘They always come…and they always will. But that’s my problem now, remember?’ she begged an unseen person, as she started to fumble with Spike’s shirt lapels.
Spike’s eyes widened as her hands became more insistent, tugging on his shirt as if Buffy were trying to hold on to him with a death grip. He gently untangled her hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing the knuckles, hoping she would wake soon.
‘A minute? No! No, that’s not enough time!’ Buffy cried and her whole body started to shake with silent sobs.
Spike couldn’t take it any longer, no matter how cathartic her dreaming was, she was in pain and he couldn’t bare it. Afraid to wake her with his thoughts, he softly cupped her face, wiping away her tears with his long thumbs. Seeing this didn’t work, he gently laid his cool lips on her heated cheek, peppering her jaw with tender kisses, praying it would work. After a few moments, Buffy stilled and released the death grip she had on the sheet when Spike had relinquished her hands.
‘Spike?’ she whispered to his mind.
‘S’alright love, I gottcha,’ he smiled softly.
Emptiness and utter despair reached up and engulfed Buffy like nothing she’d ever experienced. Again, she was wracked with uncontrollable silent sobs, as she buried her face in Spike’s chest. Spike was at a complete loss as to why she was so sad, but he held her anyway, like a precious bundle that needed coddling.
‘I feel so hollow inside,’ she murmured after what seemed like hours of crying her eyes out.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Spike brushed the back of his knuckles down her face. ‘Something’s eatin you alive, Slayer…inside. What is it?’
‘It’s like I lost or misplaced something important, and if I don’t find it, I’ll never be happy again,’ she admitted, laying her forehead against his chin. ‘I keep having this dream that I’ve…I…I don’t remember.’
Spike grimaced. ‘You keep having a dream, yeah? Same one?’
‘I think so…except I wake up before it finishes…I think,’ she whispered, not really knowing how the dream began or ended now, the memory of it fading completely, along with the sadness.
‘Think it’s a Slayer dream?’ Spike asked with great concern. Slayer dreams were usually prophetic, and with everything going on lately, it might Buffy’s Slayer senses trying to warn her of something that she may have overlooked.
‘I don’t know!’ she whimpered. ‘I wish I could remember!’
‘There’s…a way,’ Spike offered, very hesitantly.
Buffy frowned in confusion. ‘There is?’
Spike tried to remain silent but his thoughts leaked anyway. ‘She’ll think I’m like Dru. Not half as bleedin good as she was at it, but still…’
When it was apparent Spike wouldn’t be forthcoming with the information, and in fact, had to be prodded into saying how this could come about, she fake punched him in the arm. ‘C’mon, tell me!’
‘Thrall, ok? Thrall,’ he said somewhat miserably.
Now she could see his insecurities about being compared to Dru. ‘Have you ever…’
“NO!” he mouthed hastily, before she even finished her sentence.
Buffy gave him a funny little smile. ‘It’s ok, I believe you Spike.’
‘Just forget it, Buffy. Doubt it will even work,’ he grimaced and tried to pull away, but Buffy wouldn’t let him.
‘Please? Try. You say this thing is eating me up inside. If that’s the case, I need to get it out,’ she asked gently.
‘Problem is…what ever you see, I see too. And, you’ll remember – all of it. Think you can handle me seeing the multitude of skeletons in your closet, Slayer?’ he asked in a somewhat lighter tone.
‘Hey! I only have one skeleton in there…the rest are Chindys demons. They keep my clothes smelling fresh,’ she smiled.
Spike laughed silently, then sobered. He laid his palms on each side of her face, kissed her nose, and asked her to breath deeply. ‘You’ll feel like you’re falling, so don’t be afraid.’ Then he directed her to look deep into his cerulean depths.
Flashes of light blinded her, even though there was nothing physically going on in the room. She tried to blink, but her lids refused to shut, her eyes watering in pain. And she fell…long and silent, until she slammed into a counter in a room she didn’t recognize. At least she thought she didn’t recognize it…until…
“Where have you been?”
Angel grimaced. “I went to see the Oracles. I asked them to turn me back.”
Buffy stopped in her tracks towards him. “What? Why?”
“Because more then ever I know how much I love you,” Angel muttered as he gazed down at the floor, trying not to look at the pain etched on her face.
Buffy began backing away, shaking her head in denial “No. No, you didn't.”
“If I stayed mortal one of us would wind up dead, maybe both of us. You heard what Mohra said,” Angel admonished as he tried to make her see reason.
“Mohra is dead. We killed him!” Buffy challenged.
“He said others would come.”
“They always come. And they always will. But that's my problem now, not yours, remember?” she reminded him, trying to bargain in the process.
“No, I won't just stand by and let you fight, maybe die, alone,” Angel answered, his voice pitched higher in annoyance that she couldn’t see he was doing this for her sake.
“Then we fight together!” she pleaded.
“You saw what happened last night. If anything I'm a liability to you. You take chances to protect me, and that's not just bad for you, it's bad for the people we were meant to help,” Angel pointed out.
Buffy was grasping at straws at this point, praying he saw reason. “So what? You just took a whole 24 hours to weigh the ups and downs of being a regular Joe and decided it was more fun being a superhero?”
Angel growled. “You know that's not it! How can we be together if the cost is your life, or the lives of others? I couldn't tell you. I wasn't sure - if I could do it if I woke up with you one more morning.”
Buffy sniffled and murmured, not believing her own lie. “I understand. So, what happens now?”
Angel looked down again as he approached her and gathered her into his embrace. “The Oracles are giving us back the day, turning back time, so I can kill Mohra before his blood makes me mortal.”
“When?” Buffy asked, tears filling her eyes.
Angel looked over at the clock. “Another minute.”
Buffy scrambled and cried, “A minute? No! No, it's not enough time!”
“We don't have a choice. It's done,” Angel said regretfully.
Buffy shuddered in his arms, grasping his shirt in her tight fists. “How am I supposed to go on with my life knowing what we had? What we could have had?”
Angel looked her in the eyes. “You won't. No one will know but me.”
Buffy’s eyes widened in shock. “Everything we did…”
“It never happened.”
Buffy shook her head. “It did. It did. I know it did!” She laid her hand on his chest, right above his heart. “I felt your heart beat,” she sobbed.
Angel gathered Buffy closer, their heads resting on each other’s shoulders. “Buffy…” Angel whispered.
Without thought, Buffy locked her lips on Angel’s in a desperate attempt to sear his memory in her brain. They broke apart when she needed air and she glanced over at the clock again.
“No! Oh God. It's not enough time!” she practically screamed.
“Shh, please. Please…” Angel whispered as tears silently rolled down his cheeks. He hugged her as tight as he could without hurting her, constantly whispering, “Please…please.”
Buffy started repeating her mantra, thumbing her proverbial nose at the Oracles. “No. I'll never forget. I'll never forget. I'll never forget. I'll never forget…”
A white flash filled the room, followed by a deep and threatening darkness. Buffy blinked her wet eyes in rapid succession and found that she was grasping Spike’s shirt, much the same way she had clung to Angel’s.
Now she knew what had been taken from her, and by Angel of all people. Oh sure, she could blame the Oracles very easily for taking away her choice and free will. But she knew, deep down in her bones, that Angel had betrayed everything that they once were. What caused her the greatest stress now, was the tortured look on Spike’s face.
‘Spike?’ Buffy tentatively touched his face, but he scrambled off the bed and huddled in the corner.
‘I HATE HIM!’ Spike roared in Buffy’s mind and she winced from the pain it caused.
Tears filled her eyes and her lips trembled. She kept her arms wrapped around her body, trying to quell the wracking sobs that assaulted her. She was about to tell Spike something, when she heard a thumping noise from downstairs.
Wiping her eyes to clear the tears, she slowly got off the bed and headed down the steps…Spike quietly following behind her. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they stopped and listened for the sound again, but Spike soon became very agitated. He lifted his nose in the air and hissed at the front door, his demon bursting forth.
‘Ponce is here,’ Spike growled at a shocked Buffy, who approached the door quietly.
Buffy put a shaking hand on the knob and opened the door to see a miffed Cordelia and a stunned Angel, standing in the pre-dawn morning. Cordy had her arms crossed, leaning up against the door frame, looking for all the world like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Angel kept glancing over his shoulder at the coming dawn and moved to enter the apartment, but was stopped with a hand from Buffy.
“Buffy, I need to get inside…hey…have you been crying?” Angel asked as he started to gather her in his arms, wanting to sooth her sadness.
What he got was a severe blow to his broody face that landed him unconscious in the fountain in front of Giles’ flat. His left leg dangled over the edge, and it was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe, as he was out for the count…under water.
Cordy looked at Buffy and then at her watch. “Wow. Five seconds. That’s a new record for you Buffy.”
Buffy gave her a heated glare and slammed the door in her face. Cordelia huffed and walked over to help Angel out of the fountain, mumbling to herself.
“Yep. Warm fuzzies abound.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ok, first of all, I'm gonna warn you all: I nearly wanted to carve my eyes out with a spoon while I was writing this chapter. I do not like Angel. Plain enough. Having to write a MUSHY Angel was as as close to torture that I want to get. BUT, that being said....he DOES further the plot, so I will consider him an evil plot *rabid dog that needs to be put down* bunny. (read between the lines). Ahem. Now back to my sunny self :D. Many thanks to Sotia, who now has a microphone and we can all hear her voice...hehehehe! And of course Zoe, who is deeply embedded in her Japanese dramas. And to all the readers and reviewers who stick with this story, I really appreciate it! And of course, many thanks to EdgeHead73 for the AWESOME banner she provided - you rock! **Quotes from ATSV episode "I Will Remember You." (again....GAG!)