SCRIBES OF ANGEL
FanFic
________________________________
Blanket
To
paraphrase Darla, everything is found in dreams. Including comfort.
posted 12/7/00
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Random mush, inspired by the
recent snowfall here in New York, as well as my recent watching, re-watching...
and re-watching this season’s episodes of both shows. Comfort is very obviously
needed. For them, and for all of us, too. *whimper* Another, "Ducks has
nothing to do at work" quickfic.
Musical selection is "Let’s Make
Love" by Faith Hill & Tim McGraw
TRANSLATION: Angel whispers: "Most
beautiful goddess...my sunlight...my heart's only fire." God, don't you
love it when he does that? *sigh*
RATING: R
CONTENT: Mild sexuality. Fun, but not terribly graphic. Hey, I’m working my way
back up to it!
DEDICATION: To Cris, for her kids’ birthdays -- I’d dedicate it to them, but...
I don’t think they’d care. ;)
Buffy wasn’t ready for the blow. When
it came with all the supernatural strength of a very old, very powerful vampire
behind it, it sent her flying.
"OOF!" she yelped as she
careened across the yard, hitting the ground with a force that stole her
breath. Only the fact that the earth was covered with a good foot of soft,
fluffy snow saved her from more serious injury. Or, at least... as serious an
injury as she could really get, here.
Her opponent gave a victorious roar,
then advanced at a full run. She felt that "VAMPIRE CLOSE!"
tickle low in her stomach, and trained her eyes on him, preparing for her
retaliation. His broad shadow fell across her, blanking out the shining moon
above. Buffy tensed, ready...
"Are you okay?" Angel
asked, offering a hand to help her up, "I didn’t mean to hit you that
hard."
She glowered at the proffered hand
for a moment, then finally relented, and he grinned mischievously as he pulled
her to her feet. No sooner had she regained her bearings, then she let her free
arm swing, hauling a huge, hastily packed snowball from behind her back,
whaling him square in the face.
Angel sputtered and wiped the wet
snow away, laying a deep scowl on her. "Oh. You are SO dead, Slayer!"
With a squeal, Buffy turned on her
heel and plunged into the snow. "Gotta catch me first, vampire!"
"Catch you I will, woman, and
then I’ll show you who’s got the more creative torture uses for snow!" he
shouted back.
Buffy ran into the woods, feeling
the exhilaration of the hunt, and the joy of knowing that when the hunter
caught her, it would definitely be a good thing, filling her with
laughter. God... it had been so long since she felt this... safe. Happy.
Complete.
Angel’s answering laughter rang from
behind her, signaling that he was feeling it too -- the relief of knowing that
no matter what horrible things they were facing in their day-to-day lives, they
could always come here and have a sweet reprieve from it all. Together.
As lost as she was in the happiness,
Buffy wasn’t really concentrating on getting away, and it took only moments for
her sexy stalker to get close again. Before she could gather her strength for
one last burst of Slayer speed, he tacked her. But instead of flying back to
the earth as she expected, Angel caught her up in his arms, spinning her in
wild, wonderful circles.
She squealed with delight, tossing
her head back to watch the stars spinning in the night sky above them. The
motion slowed, then stopped, and she found herself staring into the deepest,
most adoring brown eyes she’d ever seen. A new sensation washed over her... or
rather, an old one...Falling.
"I’m so glad you’re here,"
Angel whispered, holding her still off the ground with one strong arm, and
using his free hand to brush the damp hair from her cheek. Buffy’s skin was
cold and flushed from the night air and all the snow she’d eaten, but even so,
he could feel her precious warmth beneath. Holding her like this... playing in
the forest like any two people spending the weekend in an isolated cabin in the
mountains... sent a rush of joy through his every cell.
The sensation doubled when she
smiled at him.
"Me too. I can’t tell you how
much I needed this."
Angel returned her smile and kissed
her deeply, slowly, the long-remembered electricity of her touch flaring
against his skin, sending it’s blissful shock like a light to his heart and
soul. Here, now, in this place, there were no duties, no responsibilities, no
destinies, no past, no curses... only the two of them and a magick like nothing
else that existed in all the dimensions.
Buffy wrapped her arms around his
neck, losing herself in the power off that kiss as he scooped her up and
carried her back toward the cabin. He kicked in the door, not wanting to let
her go even for a moment. This visit would be brief enough. He didn’t want to
waste a second of it fooling with mundane details like doorknobs. He kicked it
shut behind them once they were inside, eliciting a happy giggle against his
lips.
"You’re so macho..." she
whispered.
Angel chuckled and set her down on
her feet. "How about some cocoa?"
She grinned and started taking off
her 600 layers of winter clothes. She was a Californian, after all, and not
well insulated by nature. As usual, he wore his trademark black sweater, jeans
and boots, with his heavy wool greatcoat. All temperature Angel-wear.
"Cocoa would be perfect,"
she told him, wondering if her suddenly lusty thoughts showed in her eyes. His
wink told her maybe they did, and she blushed.
Angel’s smile grew. He could feel it
spreading from his deepest core, the seed brought by the vision -- the longed
for Goddess -- who stood, lit golden by the firelight and pink from her blush,
before him. "Cocoa it is, then."
He hung the coffee pot on the
cooking rack, and shuffled the coals around, adding logs until even he could
feel the fire’s heat seeping into his skin. Buffy sank down onto the soft
bearskin rug, tucking her knees in her arms and watching him as she defrosted.
"This was such a good idea,
Angel. I don’t know why we didn’t do it a long time ago."
He turned and smiled down at her,
wondering for a split second if his facial muscles would break if he kept at it
-- they’d gone so long unused...
As he sat beside her, a little
thrill shot through him that she automatically scooted over, settling herself
between his knees, her back against his chest. Just as automatically, he found
his arms encircling her, pulling her warm body close and kissing the top of her
soft hair. She smelled so good... like vanilla and sunshine... like happiness.
"We were too busy with other
things, I guess," he replied, "There’s been a lot going on ... with
both of us."
Buffy sighed, relaxing against him,
reveling in the perfectly right feeling of his strong arms around her. Until
that moment, she hadn’t realized how very much she’d missed this... needed it
to survive. To stay strong. Still, after all this time, he was her true
foundation.
"Yeah. Too busy drowning in
repression and denial."
Angel pulled away and gave her a
look. "Do tell, Dr. Freud."
She chuckled, then sobered once
again. "You know... denying everything we have... everything we’ve meant
to each other..."
He closed his eyes. "What we
still mean to each other," he added, tucking her head under his chin and
hugging her.
"Mmmm... Everything’s changed
so much since you left. I’ve just been running around, trying so hard to
forget... putting out one raging fire after another. I should have
thought..." Her voice cracked as she realized just how much time they’d
wasted, when they could have been here, like this, every weekend.
"I know I hurt you,
Buffy," Angel said softly, "I’m sorry. But at the time... what else
could we have done? There were lessons we had to learn apart. There still
are."
"I know. Like... Riley,"
she whispered.
Angel tensed in spite of his best
efforts not to. "Yes. Like Riley. I’m sorry about that, too."
Buffy grinned up at him. "Sorry
I had to go out and get another lover that you were so damned convinced I
needed?"
He growled low in his chest.
"That, definitely. But... more that I’m sorry he left you... because of
me."
She settled back against him.
"I’m not. And you aren’t either. It wasn’t meant to be, Angel. I tried to
tell you a long time ago, but no... you wouldn’t listen to me. I can’t have
a normal life. And really? It turns out that I don’t want one anyway. Riley was
the first to really figure that out, and accept it. I know the truth now,
thanks to him... and more than ever, I know I want my abnormal life to
be with you."
This time it was Angel who pulled
away, turning Buffy to face him fully. "That night in the sewer, when
I..." He blinked, swallowing the urge to cry, "I couldn’t tell you,
then. It was too hard. I knew that I had to leave, and..." The tears came
anyway, welling up in his eyes. "I let you think I didn’t want to be with
you. And that was never true."
Buffy leaned forward until their
foreheads pressed together. "I know. I’ve always known."
He kissed her, long and slow,
willing away all the pain of their past, sweeping his joy and hope for their
future into her mouth as his cool tongue sought her warm one. She answered in
kind as they met and danced, flicking tenderly, sucking gently, and softly
devouring one another’s burgeoning emotions.
She broke away, a little breathless.
"What about you and that whole Darla thing?"
Angel’s smile slipped, and he let
his gaze fall, the pain of that failure something he just didn’t want to touch
them, here. "Another lesson."
Buffy tilted his face up with a
gentle fingertip. "Do you love her?" Half of her didn’t want to know
the answer... especially if it was yes.
He met her gaze. "No," he
replied without hesitation, "It wasn’t about love, Buffy. It was about
every person with a soul deserving a chance to do what’s right. It was about...
forgiving her, and showing her she was worth forgiving."
The hurt in his voice made Buffy
shiver, and she had to work to shove her jealousy away. "I’m sorry about
what happened. That it ended like it did... I wish I’d killed Drusilla a long
time ago."
He closed his eyes. "I don’t
think it couldn’t have happened any other way," he murmured, trying to
convince himself as much as tell her. Finally, he willed that thought, and
every other of his vampire "family" away. Reaching up, he caressed
her cherished face -- the visage always squarely at the forefront of his mind.
Still the reason for it all. Every battle. Every sunset when he had to drag his
weary body from his bed, when there didn’t seem to be any point. The only
reason he had ever found his path to begin with. And, he hoped with everything
he had, part of his ultimate reward.
"We have plenty of time to talk
things out, Buffy. Tonight I just..." He sighed deeply as the joy
returned, like a slow tide. "Tonight I only want the two of us here. No ghosts.
No troubles."
Buffy felt her own smile come back
as she drank him in... his beautiful, mahogany eyes... his high, proud
cheekbones... the soft cut of his lips.
"I love you, Angel. I want to
make you forget all about what happens when we’re not here."
He threaded his hands into her long,
soft hair. "I love you, too. And you do. Every time."
She never figured out if he pulled
her or she pulled him, but in a heartbeat, they were wrapped in one another’s
embrace once more, their mouths blending, bodies pressed tightly together. As
Angel lay her gently down on the carpet of fur, she felt it. The knowledge that
this was why she went on. Why she survived every trial the Fates threw at
her... This tiny hope that she had repressed, but never had been able to kill.
The conviction that somehow, someday, the Powers would be kind, and their lives
would once again be bound as inextricably and truly as their hearts... their
souls...
Angel fell into her body, her tiny
sighs and whispers of his name like a litany of prayer, blessing him, buoying
his spirit. So high, like flying... Her small hands like a blanket that warmed
his dead skin, soothed his aching bones, his tired heart. She reinvented him
with every touch, each kiss, and each heartbeat that he could feel thrumming
against his chest.
"Buffy..." he breathed
into her, letting his mouth wander from hers, exploring the fine line of her
jaw, the tender slope of her ears, the silken heaven of her neck. He flicked
his tongue over the faded scar at the base of her throat, thrilling at the
shiver he felt run through her at the touch. There was magick there, in that
mark... a sign that would never go away, that once and forever, they would give
their lives for one another.
A hissing noise filled Buffy’s head,
and for a moment, she didn’t know where it originated. Will all the roiling
emotions boiling over in her heart, it could have easily been steam from her
ears.
Steam. Oh. "Angel..." she
whispered between fevered kisses, "The coffee pot."
"Mm?" he murmured into her
breastbone, which he was lightly kissing.
"Water," she gasped,
"Boiling over..."
Angel pulled away with a groan, and
looked into the fire. "Damn it." He flashed her a smile. "Don’t
move."
Buffy held up her hands.
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
With a low growl, Angel rolled away
and yanked the accursed thing from the rack, and let it fall with a clank and a
splash to the hearth.
"We can make cocoa later,"
Buffy chuckled, tugging on his shirt to pull him to her.
Angel leaned back down, his eyes
blazing. "The only thing I want to make right now is..."
Buffy stopped his terrible joke with
a kiss. All they’d had for years were words, and now that they had all of
this... the touch, the true togetherness, at last, she wanted nothing else.
Tomorrow they could go back to speech again.
But for now...
Their passion took only a touch to
flare once more, and Buffy found part of herself -- her heart, maybe? Her soul?
Definitely her body -- forgetting that she had tried to believe anyone else had
ever belonged there. The way his big frame fit hers perfectly, the way his
hands and mouth went as if by instinct to the parts of her that overwhelmed all
sense, all reason, leaving nothing but blood and bone... skin and breath,
between them.
"Angel..."
His name on her breath was by far
the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. A close second, the pounding of her
pulse against his lips as he carefully unbuttoned her thermal shirt, unwrapping
that most precious gift -- this woman’s body; this warrior’s spirit, this young
girl’s heart. All his...
Buffy arched her back as he peeled
the damp cotton away, and she was laid bare to his adoring gaze, her skin
bronzed by the firelight, flushed by the desire he could smell growing in her
blood.
"An Chuid Bandia...mo grian
solas..." he whispered, awed by the sight he’d tried to forget. The taste
of her, so sweet and warm as his lips traveled the soft contours of her
breasts. "Mo croi murach tine."
Buffy thought suddenly that maybe some
words were okay... She had no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter.
All she cared about was that she could hear them... feel them once more,
the way she never thought she would again.
Feeling... her every nerve snapped
sweetly to life at his touch as he suckled at her breasts, his words dissolving
to moans that she could feel as acutely as his hands smoothing over her sides,
raising goosebumps on her skin as he peeled the barrier of her leggings and
panties away.
She moved her own desperate hands
under his shirt, sweeping her palms over miles of smooth, hard, rolling back,
up to broad shoulders, corded neck, and soft hair before tossing the sweater
away. She followed the path back down him again once the heavy thing was gone,
tracing each curve of muscle, shivering to hear him purr under that simple,
wonderful touch.
He pushed away from her breasts,
bracing his weight on his arms and looking deeply into her eyes.
"What?" she whispered.
Angel’s eyes filled with tears, but
a tiny smile blessed his lips. "I want to look at you. Remember how you
look... right now, so I can take you with me when..."
When they had to leave. Buffy heard
it, even if he didn’t say it. She reached up and stopped the first tear that
fell with her fingertip.
"Don’t. Please, let’s just...
forget. For now."
He looked at her for another long
moment, then eased back down, claiming her mouth more fiercely, this time. He
gathered her close in his arms, wanting this to last, not wanting, ever to let
this night end.
"Buffy... I need you... love
you... so much. I’m sorry I ever hurt you."
She pulled him closer. "I am
too..."
Looking into her eyes, Angel entered
her, the connection like lightning striking, like a tidal wave washing all the
lonely days and nights without her away in its cleansing wake.
Buffy gasped as he filled her...
eased the emptiness she’d fought so hard to pretend didn’t exist. If she could
only take him deep enough, hold him close enough, maybe...
‘Maybe I won’t ever have to let
her go again,’ he thought as
he moved against her, the friction setting his cold body on fire.
Their bodies rocked in easy time, a
fundamental rhythm of joined essence. Their souls merged, whispers blended,
passion growing.
"Oh, God, Angel..."
‘There’s never been anyone
else...’
"Buffy... yes..."
‘My only love. My heart’s
mate...’
Limbs entwining, moans fusing...
‘Nothing else matters...’
‘Like we never apart...’
‘She feels so good...’
‘He feels so right...’
Bliss took them in its healing
embrace, the snow like a blanket over their haven, keeping them safe from the
world outside. They lost themselves in one another, lost all knowledge and
memory, their union and its completion the only sensation in the cosmos.
Angel cried out to her as even that
reality imploded, years of frustration, confusion and loneliness dissolving
into the long dreamed of body of his mate. Buffy returned his call with a cry
of celebration, of victory over all they had overcome to be together.
And when their breathing finally
slowed, shocks of orgasm easing, a blanket of fulfillment, a cocoon of safety
settled over them as they lay tangled in one another’s arms before the roaring
fire.
Buffy couldn’t help smiling. Smiling
so hard, it made her teeth hurt. In the year they were together, had Riley ever
made her feel so sated? So complete? She thought of his kind smile, and the
love she once saw in his eyes, and hoped with all the joy she felt being back
in Angel’s arms, that someday Riley might feel it too. For someone whose heart
was free to be his.
Angel watched the fire, reveling in
the feeling of Buffy’s warmth against him, and thought of all that had happened
with Darla. 150 years -- a century and a half -- and still... no matter how
much he had cared for her, in his way, in all that time, she still didn’t touch
his deepest hear the way these few hours with Buffy did. He still wished he
could have saved her... wished that she had been able to have a chance to feel
this kind of love. A loved that reached deep into the soul...
As they fell asleep in their warm
embrace, their thoughts turned back to one another. Where they always were. And
where they would always stay.
*
* *
Cordelia looked up from the laptop.
"Do you hear that?" she
whispered.
Wesley’s eyes swung up from the
casefile, and glanced at her, training his ears on the faint sound. His eyes
went wide as he realized exactly what it was, and he looked toward the stairs.
"Is that..."
Cordy jumped down off the counter
and dashed behind it to stand next to him. "I think... No, it can’t be.
He’s... he’s..."
"Whistling," Wesley
finished for her.
Angel nearly hopped down the stairs,
whistling an old drinking tune he hadn’t even thought of in a century or more.
When he reached the bottom landing, he did hop.
Cordelia and Wesley gaped. He picked
up the paper, still whistling as he wandered over to the counter. When he
looked up to see them staring, he gave them a warm smile.
"Good morning," he said
cheerfully, "Did you guys have breakfast? I was thinking maybe of making
some omelets. Are those green peppers still in the fridge?"
His colleagues continued staring at
him, open-mouthed. Cordelia, of course, found her voice first.
"Angel, are you... Angel?"
she asked.
He turned his smile directly on her,
and Cordy was shocked back into silence once more. The sheer kilowattage of
that uncharacteristic grin, she was fairly certain, was more than enough to
light the entire city. And maybe the Valley besides.
"Cordy, have I told you how
much I really like your hair? It frames your face so elegantly... brings out your
eyes."
"I... uh... thanks?" she
eeked.
Angel winked at her. Winked,
and turned to head for the kitchen. "Do you want sausage?" he called
as he disappeared down the hall.
Wesley dragged his eyes back to
Cordy. "Perhaps we should check his room... for...some sort of..."
"Pod?" she wondered aloud.
*
* *
Buffy did a flying cartwheel
directly into sitting position on the blanket where Willow, Tara, Anya and
Xander gathered for lunch.
They all stared at her.
"Hey, guys!" she chirped,
flashing them a grin. "Ooh! Apple slices!"
All eyes followed her as she
snatched some fruit from the Tupperware bowl in the center of the spread.
"She... looks like
Buffy," Xander said.
"Are you okay?" Willow
asked her.
"You’re entirely too cheerful.
It’s out of character for you and your current situation, and makes everybody
uncomfortable," Anya informed her helpfully.
Buffy only grinned at the ex-demon,
and shrugged. "Why shouldn’t I be? We’re all healthy young Americans. It’s
a beautiful Southern California day. We have sliced fruit. It’s all good."
The gang exchanged worried looks.
"Um... and... ancient demon out
to kill your sister? Sick mom? Absent boyfriend?" Xander reminded her,
which got him an elbow and a withering glare from Willow. "I mean... not
that you should dwell..." he corrected himself quickly.
Buffy’s face grew more thoughtful,
but her smile didn’t fade. "We’ll kick the demon’s ass, my mom’s going to
be fine, and... I think maybe the whole Riley thing is for the best."
The other four gave each other
another look. Willow decided to take matters into her own hands. She cast a
little spell, and took an illicit peak into Buffy’s thoughts. What she saw
there made her blush furiously... and then very afraid.
"Buffy, can I, um... talk to
you for a minute?" she asked, tugging her best friend up to her feet and
leading her away from the others. "Is there... something going on? I
mean... did you see Angel last night?"
Now the Slayer’s smile slipped, as
though she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. "Um...
not...exactly."
Willow leaned closer to her,
"Not exactly? Buffy, you’re acting like..." her voice dropped to a
whisper, "Well, like perfect happiness was had. And... you know, that’s
not... a good thing."
Buffy’s smile returned, but now with
a bit of a wistful edge. "Just dreams, Will, that’s all. Definitely
happiness, but... not perfect. Just..." she sighed. "Just enough. For
now."
*
* *
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Buffy, hi. How are you?"
"Angel... do you think... I
mean... that we’ll ever be together? I can’t help but think that... we should
be. In real life."
He didn’t need to think. If there
was one thing he had learned for certain last night, it was the fact that he
needed her... and that their hearts were tied too tightly together for them to
be able to survive apart for long. "I do too. And I think we should be.
But for now... until we’re done what we need to do..."
"All we’ve got is the
astral," she sighed, a tiny sound of resignation. "I know. But... I have
to say... It’s a lot better than nothing at all. A whole lot better. I haven’t
felt so..." she chuckled, "Damned good in I don’t know how
long."
A smile stole over him. "Me
too, love. I’ve missed you."
"I missed you, too. I’m so glad
you found this... I can’t wait to see you again."
"I’m... strangely happy,
actually."
"Really. And why is that?"
"You know."
Angel chuckled, cuddling the cell
phone close to his ear. "Yeah, I do."
"Thank you. I mean... for last
night. That was... exactly what I needed to get my mind off things."
"Don’t thank me, Buffy. I
needed it as much as you did."
"How did you... I mean, how did
you find out about that spell?"
"You don’t really want to
know."
"Yes, actually, I do. Willow’s
all over me about... how... I mean, how we can... you know. Without...
So..."
Her stammering was so adorable, it
was hard not to laugh, but she did have a right to know. "It’s called
Corinthian Powder. As it turns out... Wolfram & Hart introduced me to it.
It... loosens the inhibitions, frees the astral body, and creates a vivid dream
environment. I just combined that with lucid dreaming, and sought your soul out
on the psychic plane."
"Oh. Okay. But... Angel, what
about your soul?"
Angel closed his eyes. "It’s
bliss, Buffy... but my soul knows it’s not... real."
Her voice was soft. "It feels
real."
"Yeah. It does."
"We have to be careful. We need
to stay focused, and not let ourselves get lost in those dreams. Believe me,
I’ve learned that lesson the hard way."
"Okay. I mean, I
understand..." She was quiet for a moment. "So, Friday then?"
He laughed. "Friday it
is."
"Angel?"
"Yes..."
"I love you. Thank you for
coming back to me."
"I love you, too, sweetheart.
Thank you for taking me back."
"I’ll see you Friday."
"Yes. You will. And every
weekend. For as long as we have to wait."