Sleepless Roads

Title: Sleepless Roads
Author: Emmy (emeraldswan@gmail.com)
Rating: Adults Only, for sexual content.
Pairing: Angel/Dawn
Disclaimer: Angel, Dawn, and the other characters mentioned belong to Joss Whedon. The lyrics at the end of the fic are from the Jimmy Eat World song Hear You Me; I didn't write that, either. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Dawn goes to Angel with bad news, and together, they begin to work through their grief.
Warnings: Angst, strong sexual content, character death.
Distribution: My website and any archive/list/lj community I personally post it to. Please ask, otherwise.
Feedback: Yes, please. Feedback is much appreciated and adored.

Notes: Despite the fact that I have had the song Hear You Me stuck in my head for days, I did not connect it to this fic until I was editing it and trying to think up a title. The song started playing, and it just seemed to fit. Grief is a funny thing and manifests itself in many ways. Please know that I am not trying to make light of the way the characters would feel in this situation (in regard to the character's death), I'm simply exploring something other than complete and utter despair. I hope this is enjoyable. :)

HUGE thanks to my betas. {{hugs them}}

***

It wasn't Willow this time, but he still knew why she was there as soon as he saw her standing outside of his apartment. The look on Dawn's face explained things quite clearly: Buffy was dead again. Angel felt his jaw tighten as the tall brunette walked through the door behind him. It didn't hurt as bad this time, knowing she was dead, but there was still a pang of . . . something shooting through his body at the very thought. It was like his soul seized up a little bit knowing that he would never see her smile again.

He and Dawn stood face to face now, but Angel didn't say a word. He just held her eyes for a second and then pulled her into a hug. It felt like the right thing to do. The fact that she started crying immediately only made him hold her tighter, and let her bury her head between his shoulder and his neck.

He wasn't sure why Buffy's death didn't hurt as much as it had before. He did still love Buffy, in a way. He always would. She had been his light, his salvation, his reason for picking himself up off the ground and remembering what it felt like to do more than survive. But time had passed. He was no longer head over heels in love with her and had not been for a very long time. Perhaps that lessened the blow. Perhaps not. Maybe, he realized, it was just simply time for Buffy to rest. She did deserve it, after all.

He did not release Dawn until her sobs had ceased, until she was still in his arms. Her eyes were red when they pulled away from each other, and she wiped her nose on the back of her hand before offering him a watery smile. "Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to do that, to break down."

"It's okay," he told her, meaning it. "When?"

"Last week. I would have been here sooner, but it took me a while to track you down. Willow didn't have your new address yet."

Angel nodded. He had not had much contact with the Sunnydale crew in recent years, not since they had refused to help out with the Wolfram and Hart mess, and he did tend to move around a lot. He saw Willow occasionally; it was hard to stay mad at the witch who had finally found a way to secure his soul, making it possible for him to be happy for once. Especially when he had been mad at her over things that she could not have changed in the first place. He knew now that Willow would not have been able to help Fred, no one could have, and that was the hard thing to accept. He did not like to feel helpless. Like now, his inner voice whispered as he gazed at Dawn.

Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wished silently that he could make things better for her. Struggling to find something to say, Angel finally said, "I'm sorry, Dawn. I'm so sorry."

She nodded. "Me too."

Gesturing to the sofa behind them, he said, "Can I get you anything? I have . . . water, I think. I might even have some ice."

She smiled again, softly, but shook her head. "No, but thanks."

They sat down and awkwardness took over. Angel had never really had a conversation with Dawn. Before, in his mind, she was always Buffy's little sister and nothing more than that. The fact that she was really some sort of mystical Key didn't really bother him, beyond the thought that he really hated that a bunch of monks were able to manipulate his memories as they did. Now though, he knew that she was not a little girl anymore. She was, in fact, about to start her final year of undergraduate work at whatever university she attended. Willow had, at some point, told him what school she went to, but Angel could not remember it for anything. Again he found himself searching for something to say, anything that might ease the discomfort in the air.

"Willow and, believe it or not, Xander told me to tell you Hi," Dawn said quietly, ending the silence. "Willow would have come herself, but things in Cleveland are kinda bad right now. Touch and go, ya know?"

He found himself nodding. "Do they need help?"

She shrugged. "They wouldn't turn it down, I don't think, but there's more and more Slayers arriving there every day. I think it may just be precautionary, though. Things have started to calm down, actually."

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, Angel. I didn't even know anything was wrong until they called to tell me Buffy was. . ."

Her voice trails off and he suddenly regrets asking. The need to change the subject had him grasping at straws and he said, "Spike's in England. He won't be back in the States for a while."

"I know."

"You know?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He . . . he and I email. He met me in London for dinner when I got back from the funeral. He's the one that told me how to find you. He said that you wouldn't mind me just showing up, but to tell you that he'd kick your ass again if you made me pay for a hotel room."

He realized with a start that she was attending Oxford and a few more little details of her life fell into place, thanks to Willow's need to 'keep him informed.' Angel chuckled softly. "Sounds like Spike. Still protective of you, I see."

"Always," she said with a little sigh. "Part of me thinks he came to England so he could keep a better eye on me. He's already chased off one potential boyfriend. Not that I minded too much. He wasn't my type."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, you know," he told her.

She smiled then, causing another shot of pain to run through him because the gesture did not reach her eyes at all. "I know," she said. "But thanks for clarifying."

They eventually got off the couch and proceeded to go about their evening. They didn't talk about what happened to Buffy; Angel sensed that Dawn wasn't ready to, and he wasn't sure he could handle knowing the details. Not much was said, but then, they didn't have much to say. He went out on a quick hunt through his neighborhood and brought her back Chinese take-out. She did not eat much, merely picked though and nibbled on a few things before telling him she was full and taking the leftovers to the icebox.

As the night wore on, nearing four am, neither one of them seemed ready for bed. Angel did not wonder at that. He knew many reasons why Dawn would want to avoid sleeping as much as possible; his own impending dreams would be enough to keep him awake for a few days, and he had not even seen Buffy in over two years. It struck him then, truly struck him, that not only was Buffy gone, but he had moved on. It was one of those rare moments of clarity that just suddenly hits.

The realization did not lessen the blow of her death, and did not take away from the relationship he had once with her. He simply realized that the reason it didn't hurt so much this time was because he was at peace with the way things were left between the two of them the last time they spoke. He was at peace with the way things ended between them.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, he watched Dawn walk back into the room and, for the first time since she arrived, actually looked at her. Her hair was still long, and it fell to just below her shoulders. She, unlike Buffy and her constantly bleached hair, seemed to appreciate the fact that she was not a blond, because her hair was still a dark brown. There were, though, he noticed, a few varying shades of red blended in; some of them dark, almost burgundy, others a more vibrant (if subdued) fiery red. It suited her, he decided. The dark circles under her eyes or the way she just looked tired, did not, though.

Once again he wished there was something he could do, something he could say that would lessen her pain, but he was afraid that anything he did say would fall far short of the mark. Death, he had dealt with. Pain and angst were not things he had no experience with. It was dealing with people while experiencing those feelings that Angel had almost no idea how to do.

She sat back down on the sofa, and Angel tried to smile. "It's getting late."

"Yeah. Sun'll be up soon."

"You should sleep, Dawn."

She was silent for a moment before nodding. "All right. Am I taking the couch?"

'No way in hell,' his mind shouted. He was much more of a gentleman than that.

Shaking his head, Angel told her, "No. My bed."

"Angel, that's not--"

"No arguments. Okay?"

She looked down at the floor and then back up at him. "Okay," she said softly, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"Dawn?"

"She always told me how nice you were. I never believed her, and please don't think I didn't like you when I say that. It's just, you were always so . . . distant. She called you 'Cryptic Guy' or something like that. And then I was just the little sister, always in the way. But she always told me that you were nice."

"You were never in the way," he felt he had to say it.

She smiled sadly. "Yes I was, but thanks for saying that."

"She said I was nice?"

"Yeah . . . and a good kisser, but that's neither here nor there."

He grinned despite himself. "I've had worse things said about me."

"Angel?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"When did Spike kick your ass?"

The bark of laughter that escaped him them surprised them both and he smiled when Dawn grinned at him. "A few years ago, back when we were still trying to take down Wolfram and Hart. It's a really long story, and . . . I'm still not sure he actually kicked my ass, exactly. More like he got somewhere before I did."

"Was this before or after you turned into a puppet?"

Angel's eyes widened. "Exactly how much time have you been spending with Spike, Dawn?"

"Not much. He just . . . he was there, you know? When I got back home, he was there. And he helped keep me distracted for a while. Kept me entertained with stories like he did when I was a kid."

Spike, Angel remembered, was always better at dealing with women's emotional issues than he was. It was something Angelus had hated . . . Spike being able to understand not only what Dru and Darla were thinking but why a hell of a lot more often than he was able to. "I'm glad you had someone, even if it was that annoying pain in my ass."

She smiled again, softer this time. "Are you okay?"

His eyes drifted closed. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?"

"No," she said. "I don't think so. I mean, I came here to tell you about Buffy, and honestly, I expected a bit more of a reaction than I got."

"It hurts," he said softly. "Like it always does, Dawn, it hurts because I always wanted more for her than what life gave her. But. . . "

"But she deserves to rest?" Dawn's voice cracked slightly as she finished the question.

"Yes," he said, opening his eyes. "Yes, she does. More than anyone else I've ever known, and we both know I've known a lot of really special people."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. We both have. Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they let her back in?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Dawn, Buffy was . . . there's no way she's anywhere less than Heaven. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," she says softly. "I know."

Silence followed and, after a few minutes, Angel stood up and left the room to change the sheets on his bed. He was surprised when Dawn appeared at his side and took a corner of the sheet to help him out. He murmured his thanks, but other than that, they did not speak. She was sitting on the bed when he left the room to get her bag, and she was still there when he got back. He watched her from the doorway for a second, wondering if she would get any sleep at all, and then placed her suitcase on the floor. "Shower's in there," he said, pointing to the bathroom. "There are towels in the cabinet beside the sink, and if you need anything . . . just ask."

"Okay."

She stood up then and walked over to him. Tentatively, she moved forward and hugged him, and Angel slowly put his arms around her in return. He could feel the tension in her body, and automatically ran his hands over her back gently. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for not making me talk about it."

He didn't know what to say to that. He settled instead on pulling her the slightest bit closer to him. She took a breath and continued, "I think I'll try to sleep now. Good night, Angel."

He kissed her temple. "Good night, Dawn. If you need anything. . ."

"I'll let you know," she finished for him.

From his spot on the couch ten minutes later, he heard the shower running. Only then, when he was sure Dawn would not walk out and see him, did he allow himself to silently grieve for the sister she had lost, for the lover he had once treasured . . . for the strongest woman he had ever known.

***

Angel knew it was close to seven in the morning before Dawn actually fell asleep. Her breathing finally slowed, her heartbeat evened out, and she slept. He also knew it was around ten that she woke him up with a muffled scream. And, as he watched her dreaming from the doorway of his own bedroom, he could not help but wonder what sort of hell she was trapped in. Finally, when he was sure she was not going to wake up on her own, he approached the bed and sat down. "Dawn," he called, touching her shoulder gently.

It took no more than that to wake her up, and she sat up rapidly, staring wide-eyed at him. He held her gaze, watching for any sign that she remembered why he had woken her up, or even why she was in his bed. She blinked a few times, and then whispered his name. It was then that the vampire saw the tears well up in her eyes. He took her into his arms easily as her bottom lip began to quiver, and he was rocking her slowly when the first sob passed over her lips. She clung to him, wrapping her thin arms around him and holding on tight. He could feel her fingernails digging into the skin of his back and that only served to make him hold her tighter; the slight pain making things seem more clear, more real.

When her crying subsided, she nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder and neither one of them moved for several long moments. Her breathing was even, calm, when she finally spoke. He could feel her breath blowing hot and gentle on his neck as she said, "There were these demons . . . Ewoks or something. No, that's not right. Ewoks are those furry things from Star Wars. The cute things."

"Ewokunucks," Angel offered softly, recognizing the breed of demon.

"Yeah. They aren't cute. I only saw one. It tried to crash Buffy's funeral. Faith ripped it apart, and I mean that literally. They, those stupid demons, got the idea in their heads that they could bring the Old Ones back by opening the Hellmouth. She died stopping it. Saving the world, again."

Fresh pain surged through Angel's soul. The immediate mental image of what that particular type of demon tended to do to their victims flashed through his mind and he cringed. Hoping beyond hope that Buffy's death had been quick and clean, he waited on Dawn to continue. She did, saying, "I wasn't there. They didn't call me. I told you that, right?"

"Yeah," he said softly.

"I had school, and that's what Buffy thought was more important. I mean, that's totally typical of her, and I know I couldn't have done anything if I had been there, except maybe get myself killed, but they didn't call me at all. I didn't . . . I never got to say good-bye."

Her voice was soft, and Angel ran his hands over her back in hopes of soothing her further. "Dawn . . . sometimes, most of the time in fact, people don't get the chance. Death just comes, claims people. Even good people."

"Even the people we love," Dawn said sadly.

"Yes," Angel agreed. "Even the people we love."

They were silent then, content to simply stay as they were, holding each other. Angel was not sure when it happened, or how, but he knew that time had passed -- a lot of time most likely -- and he was now stroking up and down Dawn's back with just the tips of his fingers. He was no longer merely comforting her; the atmosphere around them had changed noticeably. His hands occasionally strayed to her sides, traveling up and then back down, and he could still feel her breath on his neck. His eyes closed when he felt her lips brush against the side of his throat -- once, twice, then again with her tongue slipping out to taste his skin -- and his hands stilled on her back.

"Dawn," he whispered, not sure if he wanted to protest her actions or to encourage her.

"Shh," she said, moving to straddle his lap. "Shh."

She gazed into his eyes, not moving, not speaking, and Angel knew then that he wasn't going to stop what was happening between them. She was offering, and so was he. Comfort, yes, but more than that. This was an acknowledgment of the fact that things had changed. That, with Buffy's death, the both of them changed. They no longer had the very reason they'd lived, survived, and fought for so long; Buffy.

Years of their lives, and it came down to one thing: Buffy was the reason they both led the lives they did. It would have taken years longer for him to adjust to the soul if not for Buffy. Dawn . . . well, she was created with bits and pieces -- blood -- of Buffy. And Buffy was gone. For the first time in a long time, Angel could honestly say that he was his own vampire once again. And Dawn was truly on her own for the very first time.

Staring into Dawn's blue eyes, Angel knew she understood that a piece of him was gone, just as he understood the same about her. He closed the distance between them, claiming her lips in a fierce kiss as her fingers slid into his hair. Her mouth opened willingly, eagerly, and he slid his tongue inside to caress hers. Dawn moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, as his hands settled on her hips, grasping them tight and pulling her closer. She gripped his hair tighter as he slipped his hands under the t-shirt she had worn to bed and ran his hands along the bare skin of her back. Breaking the kiss, she stared into his eyes for a second before leaning in to kiss his throat, his neck, and along the line of his collar bone.

Her hands slipped down his sides, and she tugged on the hem of his shirt. "Off," she murmured. "I want to see you."

He complied instantly, pulling away only long enough to remove his shirt before kissing her once more. Her fingertips running over his skin, warm and inviting, sent a thrill through him. Angel groaned as she began to buck her hips against his growing erection and grasped the sides of her face as his tongue teased hers with gentle strokes. Dawn gasped into his mouth as his hardness brushed against her center, and Angel pulled out of the kiss determined to feel her skin against his.

He pulled her shirt over her head and gazed at her lithe body in appreciation. "Beautiful," he said softly. "You're beautiful, Dawn."

She trailed a hand down his chest and licked her lips. "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Make love to me?"

He smiled then, his eyes dancing with amusement because -- until that moment -- he had thought that was a foregone conclusion. Sweeping her into his arms once more, he lowered her to the mattress and smiled again before kissing her gently. He trailed his lips over her jaw line, down her neck, and began to kiss his way down her body. She was shivering when he reached her breasts, and he gazed up at her, holding her gaze.

He did not look away as his tongue darted out to flick across one of her nipples, and the gasp she gave combined with the look on her face was more rewarding than he thought possible. His cock twitched at the look of pleasure on her face, at the sounds she made as he sucked her breast into his mouth. Cupping the other one in his hand, he squeezed gently, caressing the soft globe.

She gasped his name as his other hand trailed down her body and over her hip, under the elastic of her underwear. He smiled against her skin as his fingers neared her core. The smell of her arousal was filling the air, and he had no doubt of what he would discover when he touched her. Slipping his fingers through her curls, he slid one digit through her soaking channel. Dawn instantly bucked against his hand, and he moved to kiss her once more. Her tongue slipped out to meet his, and she whimpered as he continued to tease her with his fingers. He explored her pussy slowly, teasing her entrance with his fingers and never quite brushing her clit.

Dawn arched into his touch, obviously seeking more contact, and he broke their kiss to look at her. "Something wrong, Dawn?"

"You're teasing me," she gasped out. "And you're wearing way too many clothes still."

"Am I?"

"I want to touch you, Angel. Please."

He moved then, and Dawn moaned softly at the loss of his hand between her thighs. He stood beside the bed and quickly undid his pants, letting them slip to the floor. Her eyes widened as his cock sprang free, and he could not stop the smirk from crossing his face as he leaned down to pull her panties over her hips. Slipping them off and tossing them to the floor, he joined her once more on the bed. Tentatively, she reached out, and Angel rolled his head back as her hand closed around his shaft. He breathed out an unneeded breath and reached for her once more.

He wasn't teasing this time. Dawn cried out his name as he flicked her clit, and he knew from the way she pressed herself into his hand that she was just as eager for more as he was. She stroked him steadily, and he slipped a finger into her tight, wet heat. "Tight, Dawn. So tight."

A thought occurred to him then, even as she pressed herself more firmly against his hand and his questing fingers. "Have you . . . Dawn, are you--"

"I'm not a virgin, Angel," she said softly as her thumb teased the head of his cock. "But it has been a while. Quite a while."

He nodded, knowing then that he would have to be very careful not to hurt her. Slipping another finger inside of her, he began stretching her passage as his thumb worked her clit. She was trembling, and she wasn't stroking him anymore so much as simply holding his erection in her hand as he pleasured her. Angel licked his lips and watched her emotions playing across her face. Leaning down, he took one of her breasts into his mouth and bit down gently on the nipple. Dawn stiffened then, and he increased the pressure of his thumb on her clit as he twisted his fingers inside of her. She broke then, tumbling over the edge with a cry of pleasure.

"Angel," she gasped out. "God, Angel . . . that was . . ."

She said nothing else, but moved then, leaning up to capture his lips with hers. Her hand began to move once more, and she stroked his velvety hardness with a renewed passion. Never breaking the kiss, Angel grabbed her wrist, stopping her movement, and pushed her gently down onto the bed once more. Knowing that this was the absolute point of no return, he stilled and pulled back to look at her. "Dawn?"

"Please, Angel," she said softly. "Please. Make love to me."

Positioning himself above her, he kissed her as he pushed his cock inside of her slowly. She gasped into his mouth as he stretched her, and he briefly wondered exactly how long it had been since she last had sex. She was so very tight. Pushing in inch by inch until he was completely settled inside her, he rested his forehead on hers. "Okay?" he asked.

"More than," she said, her voice laced with pleasure.

They began to move then, easily establishing a rhythm as their hips met and retreated over and over again. She was burning him up, Angel was almost sure of it, and he was loving every single second of it. He groaned out her name as she dragged her fingernails across his back, and thrust into her harder. Below him, she gasped and looked up at him with wide-eyes.

"Do that again," she said, her voice breathy.

"Do what again?" he asked as he repeated the movement, thrusting into her harder. "That?"

"God, Angel. Yes," she breathed. "Yes. More. Please. More."

He was lost then, and he pounded into her. She met each of his thrusts passionately, and cried out as he slipped his hand between them to finger her clit. He felt her walls begin to flutter around him and increased his pace, pushing into her even faster, even harder. She screamed his name when she came, and he followed her over, shuddering as he emptied himself inside her.

Their lips met naturally, and he rolled them so that he would not hurt her with his weight. They kissed leisurely for long moments, and then Dawn rested her head on his chest. Her fingers trailed patterns over his skin absently, and neither one of them had said anything yet. Angel licked his lips. "Are you all right?"

"Mmm," she murmured. "Yes, I am. Are you?"

He lifted her face to his and kissed her nose before smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Better than, even."

She smiled. "Yeah. Me too."

He kissed her gently then, and Dawn wrapped an arm around his body. "Stay?" she asked softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dawn. Don't you worry about that."

She sighed contentedly, and placed a kiss in the center of his chest before settling down and letting sleep claim her. Angel listened to her heart beat for a long time before closing his eyes and following her into sleep. He did not know what the future would hold, but he had a good feeling about things. Somehow he just knew that everything would be all right. He and Dawn would be all right.

No matter where they ended up.

On sleepless roads, the sleepless go; may Angels lead you in.

End Fic.

Smiles, Emmy

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