Healing Old Wounds

around with the black arts were fun. On top of that he had been trying to reach the office for the last two hours but the telephone was constantly engaged. That could only mean one thing, Cordelia.

He had told her repeatedly that she wasn’t to use the office lines for personal conversations. Each time she had looked up at him with those innocent brown eyes and swore that she would never let it happen again. Two hundred plus years and he still was not immune to the ploys of a conniving female. " Well not this time " he thought as he stalked swiftly up the flight of stairs leading to the offices he had rented. This time he would not be walked over.

He burst through the office door prepared to battle with the woman who always sat nonchalantly in the reception area buffing her nails.

"Cordelia this had got to... " He roared

His tirade abruptly trailed off. The woman in question was nowhere in sight.

Instantly the hairs on the back of his neck went up, suspicions aroused. She may be irresponsible but even Cordelia wouldn’t have left reception unattended. He strode about the room, looking for clues. The telephone lay dangling, swinging idly by the side of her desk. Putting it back on the hook, he dialed the number to retrieve the last caller id.

If it was possible, he became even more worried. The number was clearly a Sunnydale code. While he was pacing back and forth pondering his next move, he became aware of a faint sound. No more than a whimper. Human ears would have been unable to hear it, but he could. Even from the distance it came from he could pick it up. He began to track it down; it seemed to be coming from the stairs that led to the rooftop. Walking cautiously up them, he finally discovered his missing secretary.

She lay huddled at the top of the stairs crouched in the corner like a child afraid of the dark. Her face was blank, emotionless though it was streaked with the remnants of tears. However, it was her eyes that scared him the most. He knew that look. It was the look of loss, desolation and absolute despair.

"Cordy." He questioned softly, moving quietly and slowing so as not to scare her. He got no response.

"Cordelia." He tried again, grabbing her face lightly and moving it to face his own. "Who hurt you? Please let me help you." She trembled slightly and with a wail she launched herself into his arms nearly toppling them both down the stairs.

"Gone.. all gone.. alone...lost my heart pendant…little witch...friends again...never again." She rambled incoherently her words toppling over one another.

"Cordy sweetheart, please I don’t understand. Tell me who hurt you." Her head jerked up abruptly and an eerie calm seemed to settle over her face. "Poor Angel they’ve left you too." She said.

"Who Cordy? What’s happened? Whose left?" He did not want to give voice to the terrible premonition that was building within him. Someone had died someone important. Please God not Buffy h e thought.

Cordelia refused to answer, swaying gently from side to side in his embrace to a tuneless hum. "I’m sorry Angel. There’s not easy way to tell you this. I’m afraid the last encounter with Agaria’s boys did not go well. They well… it was fatal." Doyle spoke from behind him.

"Xander?" Angel asked. Doyle nodded. Angel relaxed somewhat. He could now understand Cordelia’s grief and though he too would grieve for the boy, who despite their amenity he would still call friend, Angel knew how to deal with the death of a loved one. He began to rise to lead Cordelia back to the sanctuary of the office.

"There’ s more…" Doyle stated.

"More?" Angel questioned. Not more, surely the loss of Xander was more than the group could bear.

"Giles?" He asked, his voice breaking. Despite the fact that he was several hundred years senior he looked to him as a father just like Buffy did. Like the father he wished he could have had. How would Buffy cope with his loss?

"Yes and I’m afraid... "

"Not Willow…" Angel asked his voice now tearful, trembling. Sweet Willow who had from the very first supported him and trusted him despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. Her loyalty and her unstinting compassion were just one of the few reasons that Buffy’s closest friend had wormed her way into his heart.

" Yes...Angel I’m sorry but Buffy didn’t make it either."

"NO!" Angel shouted dislodging Cordelia as he stood "You’re lying!

She’s not dead!"

"There were no survivors Angel."

"I don’t believe you…I’d know…I’d feel it…she’s still here, she hasn’t gone…I still feel her prescience."

"Angel… "

"Have you seen her body? Well, have you?" Angel interrupted Doyle

"There was no body but Angel she couldn’t have survived. Even if she could have survived a battle with that many vampires she would never have survived the fire."

"She survived. You do not know her. You haven’t met her. Buffy would have survived. She probably out there somewhere now injured. I’ve got to help her."

Angel began to race downstairs towards the office he paused. "Take care of her for me." He said, nodding towards the weeping Cordelia.

"Always" Doyle muttered. Angel wasn’t the only demon who was in love with a human.

*****

Angel raced frantically around his apartment, gathering those few bits and pieces he felt would be necessary for the trip to Sunnydale. His sole focus was on Buffy; time was of the essence. Each minute spent in LA a minute longer before he could find her.

His attention was so fixed on the task ahead of him that he failed to notice his front door opening. "Angel?" Kate questioned a half laugh evident in her voice as she watched him move round the room like a whirlwind. " Are we going on a trip somewhere?"

Angel paused very briefly to look at the women who had pushed her way into his life before he had even realized it. "Not now Kate…I’m busy."

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she took in the information before her. She hadn’t got to her position in the LAPD by being unable to read people and she had been studying Angel for over a year now.

"It’s her isn’t it… your precious Buffy? What’s she done now? Does have a paper cut? Kate knew that only Angel’s previous lover had the ability to put the cool unflappable vampire into such a state.

"Leave it Kate." Angel growled as he continued to pack his overnight bag.

"No I’m sick and tired of this. You’re always running off to protect her.

She waggles her finger and you drop everything including me to go to her. Well its gonna stop now! You cant have it both ways Angel, you have to make a choice. It’s either her or me!"

Angel grabbed the bag and moved towards the door, ignoring the woman whom tried to bar his way.

"You walk out this door and its over. I wont be waiting here for you when you come back. Choose carefully Angel."

"Kate if I have to choose between the woman I love, the woman who risks her life everyday, who sacrifices her future for people like you. You, a whiny, moany bitch who wouldn’t understand duty and a higher purpose if it hit her in the face, then guess what...there really is no choice." He said

menacingly

The vibrations of the door slamming reverberated around the now empty apartment. Angel had made his choice.

*****

The town of Sunnydale was quiet and still. It was as if the horrific city had realized the full impact of its loss and it had decided to play out a tribute of rare calmness in honor of the precious lives that would no longer protect its streets. Angel walked determinedly to his destination, his mind lost to denial, his body lost to shock. He kept looking for Buffy while he made his journey to one of Sunnydale’s many graveyards, his brain trying to fool him into thinking that she would be out on patrol like any other night, Xander, Willow, or Giles in tow. A branch would fall from a tree or a gush of wind would blow a piece of paper noisily across the ground and Angel would instantly whirl around, expecting to find Buffy there, a beautiful smile lighting her angelic face as she told him it had all been a really bad dream.

But Buffy was never there. Whenever he turned he would only be confronted with shadows and darkness, a vast pool of agonizing nothingness existing in a blank world of despair, a world without Buffy in it to make everything better and bring light into the darkness. He continued traveling numbly to the graveyard, not wanting to face the horror of what the world would be like without her in it. Even while they had been apart he had always had the comfort of knowing that she still burned brightly against time and fate, her essence like the brightest of stars within the vast tapestry of space. He had not let her go so she could die young and tragic, he wasn’t that giving. He loved her more then his own life and he had wanted her to live the life that he could never have. He wanted her to have it all, and fate could never be so cruel as to interfere in that single wish.

He still couldn’t accept her death. He felt sure that he would have known instantly if she had left this earth for their souls were connected. Buffy was his mate, his one true love and even though they now lived in separate cities he still would have felt her death. His heart would have told him. And there had been nothing save the tear filled news coming from the lips of both Cordelia and Doyle that could validate the truth behind the claim. Buffy was alive, and so were the others, there could be no other option. Even two hundred and forty four years of witnessing death, pain and suffering couldn’t help him to grasp the concept that these people could die so soon after he had been amongst them.

A clear picture flashed in Angel’s mind, a lasting imprint from times past. He could see the library at Buffy’s old high school as they all gathered together to discuss the latest threat to Sunnydale. Willow was diligently typing away at the computer; her face set in a determined expression as she contributed to their fight in the best way that she could, the brain. Giles would be deeply engrossed in a book, ever the mindful leader and the endless researcher, the father of them all, the watcher. Xander would be crinkling up paper into balls and taking aim at a trash can, inserting a wise crack here and there to try to lift the spirits of the group, making sure they didn’t take the latest threat of death too seriously, the joker. Sometimes Oz would be there too, his face pacified and unconcerned as he sat willing to lend an ear to any one who really needed to talk, the listener. And then there was Buffy, standing tall over them all despite her petite frame. She would be anxious; her body tensed and ready to spring into action while her mind explored tactical ways of dealing with the problems at hand. She was the Queen, the blonde goddess, and the one willing to take on the world in order to make it safe for those she loved. She was beautiful in battle ready fierceness, just as she was beautiful at any other time, but she was also the strength, the motivation, the light……... the warrior.

Any one member of the group by themselves was a character to behold, whether Angel personally got along with Xander or not, but together they were a force of nature. There was no way that all that was good and pure in the universe could allow them all to die, no way the forces of light could allow Buffy to die. It was not her time to go. She was needed so desperately in these troubled times. The world needed her, Sunnydale needed her, and HE needed her. More then anything he longed to take those months in LA back. He should have stayed, he should have been here to protect her and fight along side her. Why bother leaving her in a selfless attempt to give her a future if there was no future here to give her? Angel moaned in deep agony, his fear growing as he approached the graveyard.

He stopped at the iron-gated doors to the graveyard, pausing to gather his heart and his courage. The moment of truth had come. Her tomb would either be there or it wouldn’t, his world could come to a crashing halt or it could go on existing. Silently he continued forward, lost in a haze of anxiety. Dry leaves crinkled under his feat and the night seemingly closed in around him, almost suffocating him though he didn’t need air in which to breath. Blood crashed through his system at an alarming speed, feeding his fear, causing his vision to become blurry. At last he came to the place where the newer graves in the cemetery lay, the earth freshly ruffled to indicate recent burials. A tombstone in the center of the new graves caught his attention; it was white like ivory, pure as freshly fallen snow. A cascade of flowers covered over any trace of dirt or grass, indicating that the dearly departed had had a lot of company. As if in a trance, Angel moved forward, his mind going numb. He crouched to read the engraving on the stone, his hands gently pushing away any flowers that got in the way and what he saw on the stone shook him to his very soul.

Buffy Anne Summers

1982-1999

Town Protector

Angel’s body shook violently, loud gasps and sobs escaping from his lips. He threw his arms to the heavens and shouted "Buffy!" and his voice carrying like a shock wave over the earth. The earth stilled at the sadness as it echoed throughout the plains. The world heard it, the universe heard it, and the heavens heard it. Never had there been that much grief poured into one name.

*****

A grim figure watched her ex love from a distance, her frame and countenance filled with immeasurable amounts of horror and sorrow. The petite, blonde, hazel-eyed, vampire didn’t cry as she watched her ex love morn violently over her supposed grave. She had already cried every amount of fluid that had been in her body until there was nothing left but pain, there was nothing left to give him.

They had never seen the extent of the attack coming. The vampire gang had tricked her into showing by herself to the warehouse, blind siding her, attacking her, making her one of their own. She had woken in a cloud of confusion, the demon rapidly growing inside of her fighting against the strength of the slayer’s soul. She had ran as quick as she could to her friends, desperate, afraid, and alone, needing their comfort, but it was too late by the time she had got there. All of her friends were either dead or dying, their bodies beaten and drained, the vampires making short work of Giles’ home. From the corner where he lay, Giles saw her, a trail of blood trickling down the side of his mouth as he whispered something to her, an orb glowing brightly in his hand. His dying words had been a curse, one that had been used once before, though not on her. The curse quieted the demon.

Left with nothing, Buffy callously set the place on fire, burning her past, her future, her family and the vampire foes along with it. In the space of one night she had lost nearly everything that she had held dear and she had not a soul left on the planet to turn to save the man she desperately loved but who had left her once before and was now crouched to the ground crying over her death. She wished she had died, wished she had joined her friends in their fate. The slayer had become one of the very creatures she hunted, she had seen the lifeless and bloodied bodies of her loved ones, and she had been damned to spend an eternity with that knowledge. Not even the comfort of her one true love could help her now, for he had already left her months ago. She was alone.

She watched him for almost an hour, neither moving nor speaking, praying desperately that he would find the solace that she could not. And then she turned to leave, back pack in hand, ready to disappear into the world and never be found.

More to Come……….