Beholder
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Angel(us)/Buffy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,980
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Angel(us)/Buffy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,980
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Buffy had been moved to the fifth floor for observation. Her room was quiet and out of the way, and someone, Xander, she thought, had brought her a change of clothes and her dark glasses. She sat, facing the window. Earlier, she’d felt the sun on her face, shining through the glass, and had been glad that they’d pulled the drapes for her. Now, long after the sun’s warmth had left her room, she remained there.
Her door opened and she shivered in reaction. She knew who stood there, knew with every fiber of her being.
He std ald almost silently into the room, snapping her light on as he entered, and his scent washed over her like a memory. Sandalwood and soap, with a hint of the musky maleness that had attracted her like a moth to a flame. She flinched from his unseen regard, then forced herself to remain still.
“Buffy,” he growled, his gaze resting on the stark white bandages that adorned both of her slender wrists. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
She continued staring out into the night, ignoring him. The dark glasses annoyed him and her unnatural calm annoyed him even more. He paced angrily behind her chair, wanting with everything in him to shake her out of her complacency to threaten her with violence for daring something so stupid and foolish.
“I was…confused, Angel. Giles talked to me. I’m fine now, see? You can go home.”
“How dare you? You leave that god-awful message on my machine and expect me to, what, to go on my merry way? It doesn’t work like that, Buffy, and you know it. Or you used to. What the fuck happened to you in heaven that you treat us like this now? Huh? Look at me when I’m talking to you, god damn it!”
Buffy turned her head and he stared at the damned glasses, wondering what was going on behind her hidden eyes. She cocked her head at him and smiled grimly. “Angel, you told me before, you have a life in LA and I’m not in it. I accept that. I was just, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you, shouldn’t have bothered you. I apologize. I was wrong.”
He was so angry he felt as if the demon might rip its way out of his skin standing there. He couldn’t look at her anymore, picturing her lifeless body left behind, *again,* like so much offal. He wanted to shake her, to knock some sense into her, to kiss her and fuck her and force her to scream his name and promise to never ever do anything so foolish again. But he couldn’t and the tension was driving him mad.
“I can’t stay here and look at you like this, you selfish bitch! All calm, as if nothing has even happened.”
“Then go. I’m not stopping you,” she replied, turning back to the window. “I like to look at the stars, they’re so peaceful and calm. Go home, Angel. Go back to LA. I won’t bother you any more.”
“You’re a coward, Buffy Summers, a hypocrite and a coward!” Angel growled in fury and stormed from the room, moving down the hall so fast that he nearly bowled over two doctors and a nurse. He seethed all the way down in the elevator and continued to curse and mutter as he strode through the now pouring rain towards his car…*pouring rain…pouring rain…stars…she likes to look at the stars…to look…dark glasses…no, it can’t be.*
He turned and raced back into the hospital, ignoring the elevator for the stairs…he was faster than an elevator any day. He burst back into her room, her once-again-dark room and saw her leaning her head against the window, her glasses discarded on the chair behind her. He flicked on the light and thought, for a moment that he’d been mistaken, then she turned, startled by his abrupt entry and he glimpsed the sheen of tears on her face. She reached quickly for her glasses, but missed and knocked them to the floor.
He watched as she knelt awkwardly and reached her hands out, searching…searching blindly in the brightly lit room for the glasses directly in front of her. Angel backed into the door and closed his own eyes as he sank to the floor. He groaned in pained horror. “No. Buffy.”
Buffy found the glasses at last and pushed them quickly onto her face, standing and turning away from him to face the window again as she did so. He watched her back shake with suppressed sobs, heard the quick intake of her breath before she forced herself back to the deadly calm with which she’d faced him earlier.
“Did you forget something, Angel?” She was staring up, he realized, staring where she thought his face would be if he were standing instead of crouched in denial on the floor of her hospital room. And now he understood her actions completely. Now they were perfectly in character for his love…his Slayer. She couldn’t fight like this and she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t fight. For all her years of experience fighting demons and vampires, Buffy was literal minded to the point of stubbornness. She would have seen only one way out, one way to renew the Slayer Line. And she took it.
He stood and stalked to her, putting one hand up to touch her face. She flinched from unexunexpected touch and he pulled the dark glasses gently away. Her face was nearly untouched, except for her eyes. The scars there were livid and angry looking, a bright purple-red. Her once-hazel eyes were visibly scarred as well, a haze of scar tissue that obscured their color and clearly allowed no light within. His golden girl, his love, whom he’d left so she could walk in the light, would now walk only in darkness.
“I don’t want your pity, Angel. I don’t need your pity. You said your piece, it’s no less true, you can leave now,” she said coldly, the edge to her words belied by the tears dried upon her still-lovely face.
“I’m not going anywhere, Buffy,” he said solemnly. “You told me…” his voice cracked for a moment. “You told me that if you still had our ring, that the heart would point in…always. Or didn’t you mean that?”
“I didn’t mean it,” she lied, tilting her face away as if, even now that she could no longer see him, she couldn’t look him in the eye and lie. “I was stupid and melodramatic. I…I shouldn’t have called at all.”
“I can see the truth in your face, little liar,” he growled. “Don’t try to deny it. You are my mate until we are both dust and beyond. You shared your soul with me and I will not release you because you think…”
“I think what,” she broke in. “That you had a child with another vampire? That you left me, left this “freak show,” she gestured at her face, then turned abruptly away from him. “It’s really a freak show now, Angel. I know how awful I look, I know how revolting the scars are. I can hear my friends talking when they don’t know I’m can hear. I don’t need your pity and I don’t want you hanging around the crippled girl like some lovesick puppy.”
“Look I’m really tired now, and I have to pass my psych evaluation trow row or they won’t let me leave. Could you go please?” She walked haltingly to the bed and he cringed to see her feeling for it with her fingers.
“I’ll leave…for now. But I’m not leaving Sunnydale. We need to talk, Buffy.”
He placed her glasses gently in her hand and tipped her face up to his own. “I didn’t even notice,” he quoted at her, before kissing her lips as gently as a breeze. Then he strode out, switching off the lights once more and leaving her alone in the dark.
To be continued…
Buffy had been moved to the fifth floor for observation. Her room was quiet and out of the way, and someone, Xander, she thought, had brought her a change of clothes and her dark glasses. She sat, facing the window. Earlier, she’d felt the sun on her face, shining through the glass, and had been glad that they’d pulled the drapes for her. Now, long after the sun’s warmth had left her room, she remained there.
Her door opened and she shivered in reaction. She knew who stood there, knew with every fiber of her being.
He std ald almost silently into the room, snapping her light on as he entered, and his scent washed over her like a memory. Sandalwood and soap, with a hint of the musky maleness that had attracted her like a moth to a flame. She flinched from his unseen regard, then forced herself to remain still.
“Buffy,” he growled, his gaze resting on the stark white bandages that adorned both of her slender wrists. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
She continued staring out into the night, ignoring him. The dark glasses annoyed him and her unnatural calm annoyed him even more. He paced angrily behind her chair, wanting with everything in him to shake her out of her complacency to threaten her with violence for daring something so stupid and foolish.
“I was…confused, Angel. Giles talked to me. I’m fine now, see? You can go home.”
“How dare you? You leave that god-awful message on my machine and expect me to, what, to go on my merry way? It doesn’t work like that, Buffy, and you know it. Or you used to. What the fuck happened to you in heaven that you treat us like this now? Huh? Look at me when I’m talking to you, god damn it!”
Buffy turned her head and he stared at the damned glasses, wondering what was going on behind her hidden eyes. She cocked her head at him and smiled grimly. “Angel, you told me before, you have a life in LA and I’m not in it. I accept that. I was just, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you, shouldn’t have bothered you. I apologize. I was wrong.”
He was so angry he felt as if the demon might rip its way out of his skin standing there. He couldn’t look at her anymore, picturing her lifeless body left behind, *again,* like so much offal. He wanted to shake her, to knock some sense into her, to kiss her and fuck her and force her to scream his name and promise to never ever do anything so foolish again. But he couldn’t and the tension was driving him mad.
“I can’t stay here and look at you like this, you selfish bitch! All calm, as if nothing has even happened.”
“Then go. I’m not stopping you,” she replied, turning back to the window. “I like to look at the stars, they’re so peaceful and calm. Go home, Angel. Go back to LA. I won’t bother you any more.”
“You’re a coward, Buffy Summers, a hypocrite and a coward!” Angel growled in fury and stormed from the room, moving down the hall so fast that he nearly bowled over two doctors and a nurse. He seethed all the way down in the elevator and continued to curse and mutter as he strode through the now pouring rain towards his car…*pouring rain…pouring rain…stars…she likes to look at the stars…to look…dark glasses…no, it can’t be.*
He turned and raced back into the hospital, ignoring the elevator for the stairs…he was faster than an elevator any day. He burst back into her room, her once-again-dark room and saw her leaning her head against the window, her glasses discarded on the chair behind her. He flicked on the light and thought, for a moment that he’d been mistaken, then she turned, startled by his abrupt entry and he glimpsed the sheen of tears on her face. She reached quickly for her glasses, but missed and knocked them to the floor.
He watched as she knelt awkwardly and reached her hands out, searching…searching blindly in the brightly lit room for the glasses directly in front of her. Angel backed into the door and closed his own eyes as he sank to the floor. He groaned in pained horror. “No. Buffy.”
Buffy found the glasses at last and pushed them quickly onto her face, standing and turning away from him to face the window again as she did so. He watched her back shake with suppressed sobs, heard the quick intake of her breath before she forced herself back to the deadly calm with which she’d faced him earlier.
“Did you forget something, Angel?” She was staring up, he realized, staring where she thought his face would be if he were standing instead of crouched in denial on the floor of her hospital room. And now he understood her actions completely. Now they were perfectly in character for his love…his Slayer. She couldn’t fight like this and she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t fight. For all her years of experience fighting demons and vampires, Buffy was literal minded to the point of stubbornness. She would have seen only one way out, one way to renew the Slayer Line. And she took it.
He stood and stalked to her, putting one hand up to touch her face. She flinched from unexunexpected touch and he pulled the dark glasses gently away. Her face was nearly untouched, except for her eyes. The scars there were livid and angry looking, a bright purple-red. Her once-hazel eyes were visibly scarred as well, a haze of scar tissue that obscured their color and clearly allowed no light within. His golden girl, his love, whom he’d left so she could walk in the light, would now walk only in darkness.
“I don’t want your pity, Angel. I don’t need your pity. You said your piece, it’s no less true, you can leave now,” she said coldly, the edge to her words belied by the tears dried upon her still-lovely face.
“I’m not going anywhere, Buffy,” he said solemnly. “You told me…” his voice cracked for a moment. “You told me that if you still had our ring, that the heart would point in…always. Or didn’t you mean that?”
“I didn’t mean it,” she lied, tilting her face away as if, even now that she could no longer see him, she couldn’t look him in the eye and lie. “I was stupid and melodramatic. I…I shouldn’t have called at all.”
“I can see the truth in your face, little liar,” he growled. “Don’t try to deny it. You are my mate until we are both dust and beyond. You shared your soul with me and I will not release you because you think…”
“I think what,” she broke in. “That you had a child with another vampire? That you left me, left this “freak show,” she gestured at her face, then turned abruptly away from him. “It’s really a freak show now, Angel. I know how awful I look, I know how revolting the scars are. I can hear my friends talking when they don’t know I’m can hear. I don’t need your pity and I don’t want you hanging around the crippled girl like some lovesick puppy.”
“Look I’m really tired now, and I have to pass my psych evaluation trow row or they won’t let me leave. Could you go please?” She walked haltingly to the bed and he cringed to see her feeling for it with her fingers.
“I’ll leave…for now. But I’m not leaving Sunnydale. We need to talk, Buffy.”
He placed her glasses gently in her hand and tipped her face up to his own. “I didn’t even notice,” he quoted at her, before kissing her lips as gently as a breeze. Then he strode out, switching off the lights once more and leaving her alone in the dark.
To be continued…