Know Within My Heart
Buffy slowly sat up in bed reaching automatically to her bedside table, disarming the softly pinging alarm clock. With slumber shrouded eyes and scrambling fingers, her hand closed on a small spiral bound notebook. Drawing the pen out of the side fastening, Buffy realized the gravity of her actions. "I had a dream," she managed in her sleep-deepened voice, "A good dream."
Since her twentieth birthday a long year ago, the visionary Slayer dreams had ceased. Willow attributed it to Buffy reaching her mystical majority. Her childhood was behind her at two decades. In possession of the majority of her Slayer powers, Buffy no longer needed the dreams to prepare her for what lies ahead.
Collapsing back against the soft pillows, Buffy wracked her rapidly clearing brain for the contents of the dream. Angel! Though the wound was old, the pain was nevertheless fresh. Scenes from the dream filled her reeling mind. As her thoughts tumbled out, her nimble fingers recorded the confused words on the smooth white paper. <Angel was there, but I couldn’t find him. I was looking for him. I was happy. Hide and go seek. Sun. It was sunny. Green. There were gently rolling hills carpeted in green grass from a Technicolor movie . . . and wildflowers. The sky was vast and blue above. I could here him in my mind. Was he whispering? No, it was that strangely appealing soft tone that he used when we were alone together- somewhere between a whisper and a croon. He was telling me he was there. > "No." Her voice disrupted the stillness of the morning, "He said he was ‘here’."
The pen dropped heedlessly to the cream bed spread, as Buffy drew her legs up to her chest. The unwanted tears were gathering in her eyes. The dream had been pleasant but the accompanying memories were agonizing. Attempting to cajole herself out of crying, Buffy quietly said, "He’s gone. There is nothing you can do, nor was there anything you could do to prevent his death. He made those decisions." The words flowed off her tongue with the practiced ease of an oft-repeated mantra. They tasted strange and stale, after two years of acceptance and living her life. The words and the accompanying deep breaths managed to banish the tears. Still shaken, Buffy needed to talk to Giles.
Checking the bedside clock, Buffy quickly rose and made the disordered bed. This morning she dispensed with her frantic snooze alarms and last minute racing about the apartment. The dream had awakened her well before her usual rising time. In a hurry to speak with Giles, Buffy donned a hooded UC Sunnydale sweatshirt and black wide-leg sweatpants. She efficiently scooped her hair into a ponytail, grabbing her sneakers on her way out her room. Buffy crept out the quiet apartment careful not to wake the slumbering Willow.
*****
The campus was relatively deserted at this early hour. To say college students were not early risers was an understatement. Buffy’s only company on her short walk to school, in the early September sunshine, was the odd jogger. As the stone library loomed ahead, Buffy hurried her step. Stopping only to get a cup of vending machine cappuccino, Buffy rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Knocking on the door to Giles’ office, he answered promptly, obviously surprised to see her. "Buffy! Is something wrong? I mean, that is to say, it’s a bit early in the morning for you."
Giles moved aside to admit her to his bright book lined office. As Buffy took her place in her favorite leather wingback chair, she quietly told him why she was up so early.
Safely ensconced in his own leather throne, Giles calmly explained. "Well, the dream was hardly prophetic with you being one and twenty. Could it merely be a garden-variety dream? That is to say, our subconscious minds create pleasing scenarios in the dreamscape. Angel was obviously something you wanted to see. He is irrevocably part of your past. His exit from your life and subsequent exit from this plane were deeply scarring to your psyche."
Buffy replied glibly, "Psycho-babble much? I know all that but Giles I haven’t had a dream in a year. Not one that I remember anyway. Not even that one about being naked in front of the class without my homework on a test day or the one about the mall full of shoes."
Astonished, Giles asks, "You haven’t had a single memorable dream?"
"Nope."
"Well, that is odd. I’ll check some psychology reference books but you might want to consider a therapist or something, er, not to say that there is anything wrong, it’s just . . "
"Gee, Giles! Can’t you just see me stretched out on some shrink’s couch?" Buffy fired back. "Well Doctor, after I not quite saved the world from this ugly blue guy with horns, I got horizontal with my vampire boyfriend and he lost his soul. The relationship sort of disintegrates from there, but …"
Interrupting her tirade, Giles dryly replied, "I see your point, Buffy. I’ ll get to the books."
*****
A regular day of classes passed without Buffy taking serious notice. She was there. Her spiral was open, her pen moved but her mind was not engaged. In fact, she passed the day in a sort of fog. The images from her dream stayed with her. All she had to do was close her eyes and she could see the hills, feel the breeze and sense Angel’s presence. When she opened her eyes, she was left alone and miserable.
The return of those feelings was an unwanted intrusion in Buffy’s little world. College was about fitting in and putting him behind her. She roomed with Willow and eventually she only though of him a few times a day and sometimes not at all. She loved her major. Criminology really was her calling. Who would have thought Snyder’s career fair would have brought about anything good?
Life got easier. Buffy dated around but never for too long with one guy. The memories and the feelings that Buffy had put behind her, or tried to anyway, were very much with her. Angel was such a crucial part of her mind’ s landscape. When he was with her and loved her, he was her touchstone. The comfort of Angel’s love and embrace had been the only perk to her perilous vocation. Their relationship, though plagued with conflict, was the real thing despite all that pain and suffering. Thrice years of devotion and passion had passed between them. He took her to the threshold of heaven and to the gates of hell. Buffy had taken his soul and given it back. She had killed him and she had brought him back to life. Buffy had loved him and she had lost him in a seemingly endless cycle.
Buffy knew that her other relationships paled and floundered in comparison to that great love. No one could replace him. When he left, she was adrift. It took her a very long time, longer than she would like really, to gain purchase in this the real world. She had dealt with Angel leaving her after high school. It was the most painful thing she had ever lived through or so she thought. Her misery covered her like a blanket, sheltering her from the harsh pain of reality.
The summer between high school and college Buffy did nothing but sleep and train. It would be 90 degrees outside and Buffy was never without Angel’s leather jacket. His cross never left her neck. Buffy haunted the mailbox waiting for some news from him a postcard, a letter, anything. In July, Buffy received a postcard with a single palm tree on the front with "I love you" scrawled on the back in that dear hand. That was all.
The weeks passed into months, and Buffy half convinced her self that Angel did the right thing in leaving her. She was free to live her life. The ache in her chest faded. Her heart healed. The world of college and classes slowly absorbed her sadness. And then Whistler called.
Angel pushed his luck too far. A demon with a plan to feed on millions of humans met his match in the valiant vampire, but Angel perished with him. The pain was more intense than before. He may have not been with her but there was a ghost of a chance he might come back- come back to Sunnydale and be her love.
Angel’s death drained her world of color. The days passed and Buffy took no notice. The tears fell intermittently but Buffy never minded. She was lost in her memories and her grief. Willow forced her to eat and sleep. Nothing short of a massive earthquake that upset the balance of the Hellmouth could interrupt Buffy’s grief. Another fight that almost cost her life and that of Willow and Xander was the motivation that Buffy needed to grow another heart.
Angel had died with her heart in his hands. Buffy had no choice but to grow another one and go on to live her life. "And I am," Buffy thought to herself. She ended her sad reverie, as if waking from another dream. The dream had rattled the Slayer more than she would have liked. Her nearly unflappable calm was once again taking control. As her last lecture ended, Buffy looked down at her notes. Dismayed to find, rather than the legal policies for search and seizure, Buffy saw in her round handwriting the words, "He is here," over and over. Deeply shaken, she ripped the page out of her spiral and crushed it in her powerful fist.
*****
Buffy’s feet carried her to the library this time seeking solace in Willow. Not finding her in her customary carrel, she decided to wait. Extracting a psychology textbook from her backpack, Buffy placed her sneakered feet on Willow’s table and settled in to do some required reading. She decided to head back to the apartment after plowing through a chapter on delusional behavior. She left a note for her best friend using a ceramic frog as a paperweight and walked to the elevator.
An upward bound elevator arrived and the doors slid open to reveal a car at capacity. Just before the doors slid shut, she saw him. Her eyes followed the lines of the familiar forehead and nose before her mind could register just who was in that crowded elevator. He looked up and Buffy’s eyes met cool blue rather the expected warm brown. A searing pain tore through her gut- her mind reeled in confusion. She managed to choke out an agonized, "Angel?" The moment was over as soon as it happened. It was almost as if it never came to pass. Whatever composure Buffy had regained was irretrievably lost, as she slid to the carpeted floor. That was when Willow found her best friend. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. "Buffy, you have to tell me what’s wrong. You are scaring me."
Uttering her first words since Willow found her, "It’s nothing. I’m just quietly losing my mind."
After having to practically lead Buffy back to the apartment, Willow was properly concerned. Buffy had been practically comatose. Willow had heard that quiet, flat tone before from the Slayer though not since Angel died. Its reoccurrence frightened her deep in her soul. "Buffy- I’m here. Here for you. Just tell me."
"I saw him, Will."
"Saw who?"
"Angel," at his name, it was as if a dam broke some where inside of her.
With a broken sob, whatever was holding Buffy together fled.
Her fingers already on the phone, Willow managed. "Giles. I’m calling Giles."
The former watcher could do little for his charge. Upon receiving Willow’s urgent entreaty, he put all else aside and hurried to the two girls’ apartment. The dreams and the automatic writing were scary in their own right. Buffy’s seeing Angel or thinking she saw him was utterly frightening. When the whole chain of events was heard, Giles feared for Buffy’s mental health. He raided his own personal stash in his neighboring apartment. To help her sleep, Giles gave the Slayer some warm milk liberally laced with Brandy.
*****
That sleep was not a peaceful one however. Willow and Giles observed her tossing and turning in her bedroom. Giles left to consult his books, on what he was not quite sure. He did know that he needed to help Buffy somehow. Willow was quietly reading on the couch, in both eye line and earshot of her sleeping friend. She was still there some hours later when Buffy awoke, "Wills?"
"I’m here. How are you feeling?"
"Like I cried my eyes out and drank a case of Cuervo."
Willow laughed, "Close enough."
"Willow," Buffy’s voice changed from it’s previously complaining tone. "I dreamt of him again."
"W-was it the same dream?"
"Not really. I mean it was the same place but instead of knowing he was there. He was behind me. I could sense that he was there. He touched my neck with the tips of his fingers and. . . that’s something he always used to do."
"Did he say anything?"
She nodded. "Just what he said last time, ‘I am here.’ And Wills?"
"Yeah?"
"When I saw him today, he had b-blue eyes." Buffy stumbled over the word blue.
"Blue? I thought Angel had brown eyes. Yummy warm brown eyes."
"He did."
"OK," Willow said in a matter of fact tone. "Maybe your Cracker Jack box is missing it’s prize, but Buff, it’s the Hell mouth. There could be a completely supernatural explanation for this. The eye thing is still weird. Maybe his spirit wants to get in touch with you."
Sitting beside Willow on the navy futon, "But why now? I mean two years after his death, it’s a bit late."
"It’s worth a try isn’t it?"
Buffy seeming like her old self, "So, what a Oujia board?"
"No, silly. You happen to live with a trained Wicca. I can try channeling his spirit into me."
"No, Will. That’s dangerous." Buffy cautioned.
Willow replied easily, "Not if I’m contacting Angel. His soul is gentle. Channeling would be scary if I were looking to talk to some random corpse, but I’m not- just your sweet long lost love."
"Can we do it tonight?"
Answering while showing Buffy the title of the book "A Wicca’s Guide to Channeling Spirits", "Already on it. Light the candles on the coffee table and sit on the floor."
Following her instructions, Buffy crawled to the floor and struck a match, "Done."
"Ok, let’s chant. Just repeat after me. Goddess of the gate and the world beyond, hear our plea!"
Buffy repeated, "Goddess of the gate and the world beyond, hear our plea!"
"A spirit gentle once with us and now with you is needed here. We entreat you with pure hearts. Lend him to this plane for but a moment. Blessed our undertakings on this autumn’s eve!"
The air seemed to hum and the single pillar of light wavered. The drapes on the window flared out with no breeze. Willow’s head jerked and she opened her mouth to speak, "Seek elsewhere. For the spirit you seek is not with me and mine."
The candle blew out leaving no smoke, as Willow spoke again. "That was weird. It was not like any other channeling I have ever done. Contact with the dead is hard on our systems. It’s always painful but this time my mind was suddenly at peace. Buffy, I don’t think his soul is at rest."
Defensively, Buffy replied, "He didn’t go to Hell, Willow. I know that."
"I didn’t say that! I don’t know. Maybe I did this wrong." Willow answered back as she opened up the book again.
"I’m going back to bed. I hope tomorrow will be better. I’m scared, Will."
As Willow wrapped her arms around Buffy’s shoulders, "Me too."
*****
Saturday dawned bright in Sunnydale yet Buffy awoke with the knowledge that she had another dream. The same dream, but this time she saw him- her Angel in the bright sunlight with blue eyes. Bewildered and exhausted, after eight hours of sleep, Buffy slowly got out of bed moving as if through water. As she stood in front of her open closet, Buffy said, "I feel so funky. I need to go to the gym."
Clad in a blue jog top and spandex and an unzipped sweatshirt for warmth, Buffy knocked on Willow’s bedroom door. "Willow?" The sleeping redhead roused slightly, "I’m going to the gym." Willow mumbled, "Thas-okay-be-careful." And as soon as her head hit the pillow again, she was out.
Jogging to the gym as a warm up, Buffy arrived at the student athletic center in a few short minutes. The center was practically empty at 9:00 in the morning on a weekend. Buffy had her pick of the machines. She quickly stretched before climbing aboard the Stairmaster. Setting a punishing incline on the controls, Buffy climbed in earnest. The repetition cleared her mind and gave her a modicum of peace. Fifteen minutes on the stairs, twenty on the bikes, Buffy was ready to do some of her agility exercises.
Finding a room to her self was not a problem. Buffy could hear the distant clang of metal against metal in another room. She stretched once again before starting her complicated martial arts themed work out. She kicked, lunged and punched all to the beat in her head. Buffy worked up a real sweat after an hour of the challenging routine. She cooled herself down with deep breaths and slow movement she gathered up her stuff to leave.
Still hearing the clang of metal, Buffy came to recognize that sound as the sound of two swords in play. Buffy followed the noise to group of people observing the tourney. Slowly, working her way to a vantage where she could see the two in combat. The traditional pads and protection obscured one sword fighter. The other, garbed all in black, was still hidden from her vision. The ebony gained over the ivory. Buffy’s confused mind realized that the black knight was her Angel.
Closing her eyes to wish away the unwelcome delusion, Buffy backed away from the swordfight. Still with closed eyes, Buffy pushed her way to the hall. Opening her eyes enough to see what was before her, she opened the door to the ladies room. She stumbled to the sink and turned the faucet. Buffy splashed her sweaty face with cold water. The frightening anxiety of yesterday was replaced with anger. To her pale reflection, Buffy asserted, "It’s Angel. He’s here for a reason and I’m going to find out why." Gathering her composure, she determinately walked out of the restroom to find the room deserted.
Shaken, but still unwavering, Buffy left the gym and headed home.
*****
She greeted Willow as she entered the apartment, "Hey, girl!"
As she followed Buffy into her bedroom, "You seem back to your old self. I take it the gym was a happy place."
Talking as she opened her closet and began to take out pieces of clothing, "I saw him again. He’s real, Willow. He was fencing at the gym. I’m going to find him and find out what he wants but first I need a killer ensemble."
Justifiably taken back at Buffy’s change in perspective, "O-Okay. Do you need me to do anything?"
"Help me pick out an outfit."
Discarding a pair of leather pants and a pink sweater, Willow tried again.
"Buffy. . ."
Interrupting her, "Willow, I’m not crazy. He’s here for a reason. There has got to be a higher power at work here. Sure, it might be evil but I can handle myself. I just need to know and what if. . ." ". . .he really is back."
"If I have the choice between having him and living without him. I’ll take him anyway I can get him."
Knowing in her heart that they would find one another, Buffy walked around Sunnydale. She was fully conscious of the appreciative looks she was getting in her handpicked outfit. The pale green sweater set and floral knee-length skirt flattered her. Buffy went wherever her fancy led her.
She looked at the dresses in April Fool’s. She spent an hour in the bookstore he always frequented. Buffy bought a sandwich and had lunch in Weatherly Park. The leaves were turning all shades of red, yellow and
orange. It was a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky. The strain of a restless night of sleep left Buffy in need of caffeination. As she approached the Espresso Pump, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her heart began to race. Buffy’s stomach was full of butterflies. As her feet led her closer, her mind was full of the thought of him. His name, a single word, was singing through her head.
And he was there. Her Angel was sitting at one of the outside tables, in a pool of sunlight, reading. Buffy just stood there and drunk in the sight of him. There was that same face too handsome to not be a movie star. That body she had worshipped. Those strong hands that now cradled a book as they once cradled her. His hair was lighter somehow. He was wearing weathered jeans and a t-shirt. There were so many things about his appearance that did not make sense. Any qualms that she might have had feel to the wayside at the thrill his very presence sent through her body. The man that she loved, through death even, was sitting just twenty feet away.
Her platform-shod feet carried her the short distance between them with a poise she did not know she possessed. He looked up with those wondrous blue eyes the same color as the sky. "You look so familiar to me. I’ve never seen you before- not anywhere but in my dreams." Buffy took the seat next to him unbidden and smiled, " In no way would I ever fall for a line like that but it’s working for you."
The man, that was so familiar to her but different in so many ways, smiled. It was not the smile of the ageless vampire she had come to love. It was complete. There was no haunting sadness in the eyes that the smile did not quite reach. This was the genuine smile of a soul unencumbered. That smile was followed with a deep, rich laugh that shook his whole frame. "Well, I do try."
someone I …"
"You what? "
Buffy finished, "Someone that I used to know once upon a time in a life far, far away."
She took his hand. At that touch, everything fell into place like so many pieces in a puzzle. His story came out like water from a pitcher. He was Czechoslovakian by nationality, raised in the States the oldest of a large family. He went to college in Philadelphia and was currently a History grad student at UC Sunnydale.
He candidly admitted that he had led twenty-five years of a wasted life. He hurt people, disappointed his parents and did "unconscionable things." Buffy smiled at his phrasing. He had lead a life of vice and sloth until a trip to Ireland two years ago. "It was raining as it often is in Ireland. I was on the highway leading from Galway. I had stopped for a pint or five in a pub. I should not have been driving and I lost control of my vehicle. I spent the last two years in a coma and I woke up a different man. I don’t even know how to explain it."
They talk until the sun is falling from the sky. Buffy held his hand the entire time. It was warm but the same as before. He even wore a heavy silver ring of Celtic design on the same finger he wore their Claddagh. The waitress kept filling their mugs full of hot chocolate. He had said that the caffeine made him "jittery." Buffy shared every detail of her life. She expressed no surprise when he said that he studied Tai Chi as well, just smiled gently. The existence of vampires was no surprise to him as his studies of history had included some demonology. "I just realized that I don’t know your name."
"It’s Buffy."
"I think I knew that on some level. I’m . . ."
Buffy interrupted, "It’s Angel."
"How did you know? Michael Andelsky. Michael, after the archangel, and my last name means angelic in Czech."
Angel’s beleaguered soul had found a home. And that soul had found away to his beloved once again.
The End