Wild Days

Buffy:

I know I should probably be jealous - after all I was the one who gave him blood, I've been sitting with him, bathing him, soothing him, and still his first word was 'son'. And the other Buffy, the superficial, self-centred one might have reacted that way. But this Buffy, the one who was brought back from her refuge in Heaven, who has screwed up her life in a way the other Buffy wouldn't be able to believe it, doesn't. On the contrary, this Buffy understands why he said it, is glad that he said anything at all. And when I think the way Connor's eyes filled with tears, I want to weep with him.

Angel's son left a while ago and his father almost instantly fell asleep, but this time it isn't as if he is a mere corpse. A little smile plays around his lips now, and a part of me wants to believe that my presence brought it there, but the rational Buffy knows that a big part of it is Connor. And I'm glad. I'm glad the smile is there at all.

I'm lying beside Angel again, my arms loosely around his body, I don't dare resting my head on his chest, a place that once was so familiar to me, because I'm afraid I might hurt him. I wonder if he even knows I'm here. He did look at me before, but his eyes still seemed far away, laced with such pain and grief in a way that reminded me of the time he came back from Hell.

He's fed properly now, with the blood Gunn brought for him. For a moment I considered asking Connor to stay and help, but then thought otherwise. Seeing his father's face shift, his lips drinking the blood greedily might have been too much. Connor is just starting to accept Angel, their bond is still very fragile and in no way I want to do anything to hurt it again. Angel spoke only one word, but it was filled with such hope and love, I know that losing his son would shatter him. Especially now when he's weak and vulnerable.

I'm not sure what he thinks right now, but I know he remembers Connor locking him up in that box, and I can only guess the anguish it must have brought. To think your own child hates you so much ...it's beyond comprehension. Mom and I fought a lot over the years, most of all when she didn't know about Slaying, but I never - not for a moment - hated her. I always loved her with all my heart and leaving her and Sunnydale after I had to send Angel to hell was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. When I wasn't haunted by images of Angel being impaled by a sword or tortured, I found myself longing for my mother's arms, a place where I could feel safe and loved, a place where I could let go.

Connor never had such a place. His mother was an evil vampire who died giving him a chance to live, and his real father was never allowed to see him grow up. And Holtz ... I'm not sure there was a real love underneath all the hatred. I'm not sure it can blossom when hatred has eaten you up.

Angel suddenly stirs, obviously nll tll the way asleep, and murmurs something I can't understand. Again I find myself wondering what's going on in his head. My thoughts drift to Cordy and the remarks that were made earlier. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around them, to find some sense in them. Angel and Cordelia - even the names together sound strange. I mean I know Cordy once thought Angel was a good catch, that she found him attractive, but the moment she found out about the vampire thing she never mentioned it again.

On the other hand I have to admit that I don't know Cordy anymore. Not that I ever really did. We were never friends, sometimes barely tolerated each other. I never bothered to know her more closely, and I still remember how surprised I was when I found out Xander dated her. Well, if you can really call it dating, that is. Make out sessions in closets ... not really my cup of tea. But then ... Angel and I certainly weren't the classical couple either. More the opposite.

Does he lover her? I wonder. Is she more to him than a friend, a confidante? And why does it hurt to think it might be true? I know that part of it has to do with the fact that he left me. He said he couldn't give me a life, or sunshine or kids. He said he left me because he couldn't make love.

So is it all suddenly not important anymore with Cordy? Does it mean he doesn't love her in a way to risk his curse? Obviously simple sex isn't the trigger for the clause - Connor's existence proves it perfectly.

Or does it mean the clause isn't a problem anymore?

The physical pain at the thought is like a freight-train crashing into my guts and I feel myself stiffen and holding my breath to let is pass. Firmly I push it away, not able to deal with the mere idea. It doesn't matter that there was Riley, or that I screwed Spike more times I can count. To think Angel might have found a way to anchor his soul and not told me...

I know it's irrational, Angel and I have barely spoken a word since our short, strained meeting after I came back from the dead and still I barely manage to stifle the sob that threatens to tear from my throat. I bite my lower lip until I taste blood, squeeze my eyes shut ...

... and freeze the next second.

Angel's arm suddenly comes around me, pulling me closer. It's not very effective because he's weak, but I can feel the pull nevertheless. He murmurs something while turns against me, burying his face in my neck. I can feel his cool breath tickle my sensitive skin and almost moan out loud. Right now it's a sensorial overkill I don't know how to deal with, so I try to wiggle away, but he won't let me, holding his arm firmly in place. Then after another moment, he loosens his embrace, but his hand still rests on my hip, as if seeking contact.

My mouth is dry, and I can feel the goosebumps all over my body, wild, tiny shivers running up and down my spine. I can feel his breath deepening, his chest rising and falling against my breasts, the texture of his shirt causing a friction against mine, making my nipples harden involuntarily, before an almost inaudible sigh slips from his lips that turn up into the slightest hint of a smile, and with fascination I realise he's finally asleep again. After some minutes my own breathing that almost turned to erratic before slows down and my heart stops to hammer in my chest. Looking at his sleeping form, I moisten my lips, then swallow, finding my mouth painfully dry. I want to reach out and touch him, but don't dare, afraid I might disturb his healing sleep.

He still looks thin and starved, but he's already started to fill out again, his ribs not as prominent as they were, his cheeks slowly filling out, and I find myself fascinated by the rapid changes. I continue watching him, asking myself what it means that I just reacted that way, but already know the answer, yet am not ready to deal with it. He barely touched me. I never felt like this with any other.

Parker was nice, but for all his charms and obvious success with women, he wasn't that great after all. Riley - he was good, honest and single. That was Riley. Also tall, muscular and handsome, with surfer-boy good looks, a sweet smile and nice eyes. He looked at me with obvious appreciation, and when we shook hands, he held mine far longer than he should … he was gorgeous, funny, charming, and made me feel like the best part of his day, and still it wasn't enough. He never made my skin tingle, never made my fantasies run wild.

And Spike. He was a good lover, he knew how to touch me, how to arouse me, but most of the time I was simply driven by pain and a darkness I had no way to comprehend. What we did had nothing to do with affection, at least not from my side, and all with trying to get numb for a little while, to feel anything but despair, to escape what was too much to deal with.

Once again I look at Angel's face, feel his hand on my hip, the coolness mingling with my warmth. We only made love once - that fateful night all these years ago, and he can still arouse me with a bare touch. I tried hard to forget him, tried to ban him from my mind, from my memories, but laying beside him, I feel myself drowning in his presence, remembering another night and place where Spike used the same words.

Yes, I already know the answer. I know what it means.

And I wonder what I'm going to do if he really loves Cordelia.

*****

Angel:

She looks at me, her eyes bright and full of love, her hair gleaming in the moonlight, her mouth forming words in that familiar melodic voice. Her lips curve into a smile, and she reaches out, wanting to touch me, but not daring to. And then I'm suddenly kissing her. She tastes sweet and like honey. I remember her lips from the time I kissed them before, remember her scent, the silken texture of her skin. I hear her little moan, hear her whisper my name at the same time, and deepening the kiss, I coax her to open her mouth with my tongue. She responds instantly and I tighten my arms around her, already drowning in her and the feelings she arouses.

I close my eyes, let my lips travel down her throat, feel her pulse underneath the skin, then move lower to her collarbone. She moans again, more passionately this time, and I chuckle, whispering her name, one of my hands reaching for the left strap of her dress when she suddenly goes rigid in my arms.

I notice her change, and confused I pull back, staring at her brown eyes. I have to blink once, then again, before I can focus on her face and notice the fury and pain in the depths of her dark orbs.

"Cordelia?" I say her name, not understanding what's going on. I started kissing ..."What happened?"

If it's even possible the fury in her eyes increases, and unconsciously I take a step back. "Oh, now you remember," she hisses, whirling away from me, her body trembling with anger. I can see sparks flying around her, and frown. Something isn't right here.

And why am I kissing Cordelia?

Not understanding, I reach out for her, only to have her slapping my hand away. "Don't touch me," she warns

Stunned beyond comprehension, and a little hurt, I simply stare at her. In the matter of a moment, she changed from passionate lover to a walking, talking bundle of fury, and I've yet to understand what happened. "What-," I start to ask, but she won't let me.

"God," she cries, throwing her hands in the air, then turns back to me, giving me a look like a bug she wants to extinguish. "You didn't even realise what did did, did you?"

What I did? I kissed her. So far none of the women I kissed ever had reason to complain. Well, if you don't count those who I eat later, but that's different. Buffy never complained. And where the Hell did that thought come from? I'm here with Cordelia and I - didn't I start out kissing Buff?

And why the Hell am I standing in front of Cordy now? Something very weird is happening here.

"What did I do?" She might think I'm an insensitive heel, but I simply don't understand what's going on.

"God, you are incredible. Here I am, struggling with myself, then finally, I … I accept I've fallen in love with you," her eyes are tearing up, "I mean, I gave you my heart. Not to mention sacrificing my career as an aspiring actress for your saving souls gig. Getting half-demonic. And what do I get? A thank you? Maybe a raise?"

"Cordy-" She loves me? Somewhere deep inside me something stirs. Like an ancient memory, tell me my heart should be hammering at the revelation, that I should start grinning like an idiot. Yet, nothing happens. My heart remains unaffected - which given the fact that it doesn't beat at all, isn't all too surprising. Still, I seem to remember when it almost felt like beating. It was a long time ago, and I tried my best to forget, but the the difference seems painfully clear.

She goes on as if I haven't even talked. "You called me Buffy, dammit," she yells finally, her eyes shooting daggers at me. "Damn you, damn you," she stomps her foot on the ground, making it shiver underneath her boots, "for making me falling in love with you, for making me believe you were over her. And damn the others for pushing me at you."

"Cordy-," I say again, helpless, and totally at loss what to do. I called her Buffy? Of course I did. I was kissing Buffy - or that's what I thought. But I'm not going to reveal that to the furious woman before me. Maybe she isn't even Cordy? For the first time I notice her strange, almost white hair falling down over her bottom, and the silvery gown swirling around her. Wasn't her hair short? Or did I lose every idea of time and place while I was down in the sea?

And why on Earth was I kissing Cordy?

"Don't," she hisses, "tell me you're sorry. I don't care if you're sorry. What you should do, though, is go deep inside you, and do a hard survey there. And then, when you are done with it, when you realise what you really feel and for *whom*, then we can talk again. Because - if I learned anything these past months, I'm not going to be some guy's second best. Never ever again. I went down that path with Xander Harris. And even Doyle had still his beloved Harry on his mind when he tried to move on by making googly eyes at me. So, nada. No more seconds for Cordy."

"Cordy-" I try her name again, and again she doesn't let me go on.

"How do you think that makes me feel?" she asks.

"I know-"

"No," she cuts me off, "you don't know. Buffy was head over heels in love with you. Little Miss Slayer couldn't even think straight, let alone look when you were around. That's why Xander Harris finally looked around and took me to fulfil his hormone-filled teenage fantasies. Buffy, his real target of affection, almost killed me when I …," she paused, shook her head, "Well, it really doesn't matter anymore. And before, I suppose the women always drooled over you. When I was in highschool I was never loved for myself. I think the only who ever really tried was Doyle and we all know how that ended. He might have been still hung up on Harry, but at least he made a real effort. And Groo," she shakes her head, running her hand through her shoulder length, almost white hair, **what the hell** "he worshipped me, but after awhile that gets a little … boring. And when he told me that I was suppressing my true feelings, and I finally realised that I-" She held up a hand, but more to stop herself, "No, I'm not going down that path again. "Lorne let it slip that you loved me, so … but in reality you never stopped loving her, huh?"

My eyes fly open with a snap, and for a moment I blink, feeling disoriented, before they settle on the warm body in my arms, so familiar to my touch, her scent filling my senses, making me remember things I desperately tried to forget. Buffy.

I try to think, try to remember the feelings I had in the strange dream of Cordelia, with her almost white hair. The images are still clear in my head, but seem so foreign, I cannot grasp them anymore. Almost as if they belong to another person.

Lorne told Cordelia I loved her? Why on earth would he do such a thing? I mean, yeah, I love Cordelia. But ... I love Fred as well. They are my friends. My family.

I frown, again tying to recall the longing, the love. Trying to understand what is going on. Trying to grasp the feelings I'm supposed to have.

They're gone.

But Buffy is still here, in my arms, sleeping peacefully. And I remember Connor, remember seeing him sitting there and looking at me with tears in his eyes, his hand touching mine. I'm too tired, too exhausted to understand what it all means. All I know is that for now everything seems suddenly right in this world, and with a contented sigh, I close my eyes and go back to sleep.

*****

In another realm of existence:

"That's it," she exclaims, whirling around, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

I sigh, hating to see her in this kind of emotional turmoil, "I told you before, visiting someone in his dreams can be dangerous. It can be a gift if used wisely."

"Well, I did use it wisely," she points out, a frown marring her beautiful face. No wonder the guys down on earth were crazy about her, including a shakily souled vampire who had no feeling that way. "I made them find Angel," she adds on a huff.

Of course this is only part of the truth, and I don't hesitate to point it out. I'm her guide after all, and it's not been an easy task so far. She's positively resilient and stubborn. "I beg to differ," I say slowly, "All you did, was cause Lilah to forget the part of the scrolls in her apartment."

"Yes, I know", she replies, clearly annoyed with me, "But that's what set the whole search in motion. That's what brought *Buffy* on the plan," she pauses, frowns again, "Of course I hoped this would go without them, but," she sighs, "well, I suppose you can't have everything." She tilts her head, "I would've done something a lot earlier, if there wasn't this stupid rule up here. Don't think I liked knowing about the situation Angel was in, and be damned to do nothing."

"I never said it was a piece of cake," I smile at her, but it doesn't seem to affect her in any way. If anything, she frowns even harder. "And it isn't a stupid rule. We are not allowed to meddle with fate."

"Yeah, well," she shakes her head, "It's a lot worse than I thought it could be. I mean, I finally find out what I feel, but before I can act on it, Wham-Bam, I'm up here on this," she pauses, gestures at our surroundings which are - admittedly - not very impressive, endless white, like cotton-pads to walk on, "whatever you call this. And after helping them to get Angel, I have to find out that he's still hung up on little Miss-Slayer-I-save-the world."

She whirls away from me, her silvery-white gown floating around her for a moment, before it settles back on her body. The one thing she's learned quickly, even up here it's all about attitude - and she certainly has enough of it.

"As I said," I tell her calmly, "Visiting people's dreams can be difficult."

"He's not a people," she snaps, turning back to me.

I simply raise a brow at that, and she sighs, "Yeah, yeah. So you said. But ... this is ... it was necessary."

"It was for purely selfish reasons," I scold her mildly. "That's not the reason you were summoned here. You are supposed to work for the greater good, not to use your powers for yourself." I see a scowl starting on her face, and hastily add, "Cordelia, you did good. You helped them to save Angel. You brought Wesley back to the group in the process. These are things ... admirable things. Still, what you did just now was selfish and can't happen again."

She laughs shortly, unhappily, "Oh, don't worry, it won't. One time visiting Angel's dreams was more than enough. I mean, I really don't need this."

"Need what not?" I ask.

"Why don't you just read my mind," she snaps. "I thought you were emphatic."

"I am. But that only works up here. Down on earth, it doesn't. The dream you visited was Angel's, and he is no part of the realm. Different realities, different abilities."

Her eyes narrow at that, and I wonder if it was my wisest move to tell her about it in the first place. But it's done now and it can't be changed. If I learned something in my long life then it's not to get upset about spilled milk, so to speak. "So what happened in the dream?"

She looks at me for a moment with raw pain in her eyes, but she hides it quickly. She has learned a lot since she came up here. "We were kissing," she says after a moment, "and it was - perfect. Or so I thought. But instead of kissing me, he was dreaming of kissing Buffy instead."

"She was with him when you came into his dream," I remind her gently.

"Damn right, she was," she shoots back. "And you know what, that's my rightful place. I should be there, taking care of him, laying in his arms, but no, it's little Miss-Righteous again. God, I'd like to go down there and show her not to mess with me." Again she tosses her gown, making the silver sparkle like diamonds surrounding her. Yes, definitely enough attitude. "Your rules up here stink."

"We are not allowed to interfere with fate. Only the Powers - and the powers alone - can decide to interfere," I tell her trying not to sound schoolmasterly, although it's difficult after eight hundred years of training newcomers.

"Yeah, yeah," she scoffs, makes a dismissive gesture with her right hand, the rings at her fingers sparkling even more than her gown. "You already gave me that lecture. I know I'm not allowed to directly interfere. Believe me I've got that part. Otherwise I would've just told Gunn or Fred how to find Angel, and there would've been no need for Buffy to come."

"I wonder why you resent her so much." And I really do. I mean, yeah, I've read Cordelia's mind, but where the blond Slayer is concerned I'm running into blocks all the time.

"I don't ... resent her," she replies, her voice low, her lips tightly compressed in anger, "She just ... she isn't good for Angel. She never was."

"That's not for you to decide. He is the one to choose, you cannot do it for him," I remind her.

"But what if he can't ... I mean, where Buffy is concerned, he can't think straight," she cries, throwing her hands in the air, "It's as if he's blinded whenever she's around."

"That's what people usually call love," I reply, smiling slightly, remembering a time where I felt the same. But it's so long gone, I can hardly grasp it anymore.

"Love," she echoes incredulously. "Angel is in love with me. Or was, anyway. I know he was. I saw the way he was looking at me. And Lorne said it, and Fred, and then Groo. So many people can't be wrong, can they?"

"Everything is possible," I tell her, slowly starting to understand her resentment towards Buffy. It's not really personal, it's a lot deeper, a lot more painful, and I instantly feel sorry for the woman in front of me.

"Yeah, everything," she scoffs. "You don't need to tell me. But you know what, I'm done. As of now, Cordelia and men are history. Angel is the last one to dump me for another as soon as I turn my back on him." Her voice is so bitter, it makes me cringe, "I'm through with men. Once and for all."

I want to reach out, want to touch her, but can't and once again hate my ghostly existence which doesn't allow me to touch anyone at all. Instead I try to let my voice sound soothing and soft, "You shouldn't make a final decision so soon."

"Soon? Can you be a little more sarcastic. It's not as if I can just go and find a new man for me anyway. I'm not human anymore, I'm a *Higher Being*. Besides, I've had enough. The first guy I really fell for, turned out to be the loser I thought him to be in the first place. The next one died in an attempt to become some kind of stupid hero, leaving me the visions as a goodbye present, and Angel..," her voice trails off, but I can see tears in her eyes, "I though he was different. Buffy has given him nothing but pain and grief, and I thought ...," she sobs softly, then swallows, "But maybe that's it. I mean, he had hundred years of pain and guilt, and maybe she's exactly what he's longing for, like someone addicted to SM."

I almost laugh at that, but don't, seeing her pain. "Or maybe," I say, holding her eyes, "He simply loves her."

"Oh please," she tosses her head back, her tears instantly gone, "She ran him through with a sword, sent him to Hell, then dumped him time and again. She even forgot what he did for her, what he sacrificed. And finally, she couldn't wait to throw her new lover in his face. And I'm not even going to start talking about her screwing Spike. Besides, their love is doomed."

I sigh, hating to say what has to be said, "Once again, Cordelia. It is not your place to judge their feelings. Keep out of it. Don't visit him again for selfish reasons. Or you will be punished."

The glare she gives me might have turned a mere human to stone. "You know what, being a Higher Being sucks. But on the other hand, that's nothing new. It seems the Powers are only happy if they can screw up Cordy's life." Giving me a last hard look she runs her hand through her almost white hair. "I want to talk to Them."

She wants to talk to the Powers? Feeling instantly nervous, I clear my throat. "Wha- what?"

"You heard me," she says, her voice like steel. "And I don't care if it's done or not. I want to talk to them. I think I've earned it. And I won't take no for an answer." With that she turns away, sparks flying around her.

I on the other hand feel positively nauseous and wonder how to deal with this new situation.