"Power Of Love"
by Debbie Nockels
(November 2000)
RATING:  PG-13
DISCLAIMER:  I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL.  They're owned by Joss Whedon (who ought to treat them nicer), MutantEnemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, the WB, Fox, etc.
SUMMARY:  Buffy's in a coma.  Can Angel bring her out of it?
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PART FOUR

Joyce was right, Angel realized.  Buffy's guilt at not being able to return Riley's wholehearted love far outweighed any relief from loneliness his companionship afforded her.  The realization brought a tangled surge of emotions: Renewed exultation that despite two years of physical separation, years during which they'd seen each other only a handful of times, she still loved him as he did her.  Bitter, impotent anger because their situation remained unchanged.  But most of all there was fear.

Fear, because he knew her so well, and he understood completely that it wasn't the unending savagery and danger she faced as the Slayer that was the real problem:  it was her guilt and remorse and shame over Riley that was eating her alive.  Those emotions had reduced her to a physical shadow of her former self, even before the accident, and the self-loathing they had inevitably generated was now sapping her of the will to keep on living.

"Buffy."  He cleared his throat, knowing he had to do this, for her sake.  "You say you're living a lie, but haven't you been happy with  - Riley?  Haven't you enjoyed going on picnics with him, lying in the sun beside him . . . hearing his heart beat when he holds you?"

Anger sparked briefly in the depths of her eyes, but just as quickly faded, leaving only a soul-deep weariness behind.  She turned away.  "You still don't understand, do you?  You still think sunlight and beating hearts and picket fences are important."

"Aren't they?"  Angel's throat felt tight.  "Didn't you ever long to walk in the daylight with me?  Didn't you ever wish that when we touched, you could feel warm, living skin under your hand, and not the cold flesh of a walking, talking corpse?"

Buffy looked at him, her expression unreadable.  Then, with slow deliberation she raised her hand and placed it flat against his chest.  "No," she said, simply.

Angel blinked.  The warmth of her palm seemed to permeate his entire body, distracting him, making it difficult to concentrate.  "No what?" he asked stupidly.

"No, I never wished that your skin was warm or that your heart beat.  I never regretted that we couldn't walk together under the sun.  Those were your wishes, Angel, and your regrets, not mine.  And to answer your other question, yes, I enjoyed my times with Riley.  He's a wonderful person, which is why he deserves someone who can really love him.  I can't be that person because I'm in love with you."

Helplessly he reached for her.   She fell into his embrace with a sound very like a sob.  He kissed her hair, whispering her name over and over, repressing another stab of fear at how fragile she felt in his arms, so light, as if she weighed nothing.

"Hold me, Angel," she wept.  "Just hold me and tell me that you still love me."

His heart bled.  Shuddering, he tightened his arms about her frail form until her ribs creaked.  She only moved closer, her face nestled into his neck.  "I love you, he said roughly.  "God help me, there hasn't been one second since I first saw you that I haven't loved you.  Yes, I dream about you, almost every day; and, yes, I pray that being apart from you will stop hurting so much.  Because the pain is always there, Buffy.  I wake up with it, I work with it, and I go to sleep with it."

"Yes," Buffy whispered.

Looking down at her, Angel braced himself.  "But I live with it, Buffy.  I have to.  You told me once that being strong meant fighting; that it was hard and it was painful and it was every day."

"But we have to do it," she nodded sadly.  "I remember."

"You also said we could do it," he added.  

"Together," Buffy interjected.

"What?"

"I said we could do it together.   That's the difference.  As long as you were in Sunnydale and we could see each other, even if it was only once a week, I could stand the pain of knowing that we couldn't . . . be as close as we want to be.  We were still fighting  the pain together."

Buffy's voice went flat again.  "But then you left, and I had to fight it alone.  I guess I'm just not as strong as you are, Angel.  I don't want to fight anymore.  I can't."

"Buffy, it's been two years since I left."  Angel ran a distracted hand through his hair.  His emotions were in greater turmoil than ever.  "All that time you've been coping, no matter how hard it might have been.  What happened to change that all of a sudden?"

She was silent for so long that Angel glanced down in alarm.  Finally she whispered, "Riley asked me to marry him."

Why this should come as such a shock, Angel couldn't say.  It took a few seconds before he had his voice under control.  Ignoring the sudden clenching of his stomach, he asked, "What did you tell him?"

He felt Buffy stir.  "I took the easy way out – the coward's way.  I told him I had to think it over."  The contempt in her voice – contempt for herself – snapped Angel to attention.   "For over a year I've lied to Riley and led him on.  For over a year I've let a good, decent man fall deeper in love with me, knowing that I didn't return the feeling, that I couldn't return it.  But I didn't tell him that.  No, I let him think that I loved him, even though I never actually said the words.  I deceived him, Angel, for a whole year."  Slow tears wet her cheeks.  "And now he wants to spend the rest of his life with me."

It was Angel's turn to be silent while he thought harder and faster than he'd ever done in his existence.  Finally he shook his head and with certainty said, "No."

"No what?"  Buffy asked dully.

"No," repeated Angel.  "It didn't happen that way."

Buffy moved back, looking at him.  "What do you mean?  You think I'm lying?"

Angel shook his head.  "No, I think you believe what you're saying.  But I know you, Buffy, and you would never deliberately lie to Riley.  You've never done that in your life. "

Buffy looked away.  "People can change."

"You haven't ," he stated flatly.  "Not that much.  I'd know if you had.  Buffy, maybe you weren't completely honest with Riley, but the person you've really deceived is yourself.  You wanted to love Riley."

Buffy started to speak, but he put his finger on her lips.  "You wanted to love Riley," he repeated.  "As you said, he's a good, decent person, and you liked him.  You still like him.  You - you were lonely and hurting and he made the pain go away - "

"Only some of it," she whispered, making Angel's own heart ache.

He continued, " - and you made yourself believe that what you felt for him was love.  You managed to keep believing it, until Riley asked you to marry him.  It was the idea of making that kind of commitment that shocked you into realizing you don't really love him.  I'm guessing that he proposed only a short time before your accident?"

"The day before."  

Angel nodded; it all made sense now.  But Buffy went on, her eyes filling with tears.  "I tried to love him.  I really did."

"I know you did," Angel gently told her.  "Buffy, love can't be forced.  Stop beating yourself up for something you couldn't help.  Stop hiding from an honest mistake.  Come back to Sunnydale.  Face the music . . . face Riley and tell him the truth.  Or are you really too much of a coward to do that?"

If he had need of breath, Angel would have held it at this point.  After several long minutes during which Buffy stared into space, silent and unmoving, she pulled away from him.

"You're right," she said in a flat monotone.  "I have to go back; I owe Riley that much at least."

"Yes," Angel agreed softly.  "You do."  Just as he knew there was something he had to do, something he'd been uncertain about until now.

"So how do we go about it?  Getting back, I mean."  Her voice was still devoid of expression, and she avoided his gaze.  

"Buffy."  Still she refused to look at him, but Angel barged ahead anyway.  If he didn't tell her now, his new-found courage would desert him.  So he took a deep breath and plunged in.  "There's a prophecy that sometime, after the End of Days, if I survive, I'll be rewarded by becoming human."

That snapped her head around.  "Human?"  He nodded, and she stared at him.  "And you didn't think I deserved to know this?  You weren't even going to tell me?"  Guilt flooded him at the hurt look on her face.  He reached for her, but she drew back.  His arms fell back to his sides.

"I thought you were happy with Riley," Angel quietly told her.  "And we don't know how many years it might be until this happens.  If it happens.  It could be decades, Buffy.  How could I disrupt your life over something that might never be?"  He hesitated.  "Besides, I didn't know if - "

"If I would even care," Buffy finished for him.  "If it still mattered to me."

Angel nodded.  "I thought you had made a new life with Riley," he repeated.  After a second Buffy also nodded, reluctantly.  "I guess I understand," she whispered.  "But it still hurts."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't know how things really were."

"Well.  Now you do."  She started to get up, but fell back onto the grass with a startled look.

"Buffy?"  Angel frowned in concern.  Buffy gave a shaky little laugh.  "Sorry.  I don't know what happened.  I felt – I don't know – dizzy or something."

Angel stood.  "Let me give you a hand."

Buffy reached up and Angel clasped her hand.  It was cold.  His glance flew to her face, which was pale.  He pulled, and it took more of his strength than he was happy about to get her standing, for she was able to help hardly at all.

"Angel, what's happening?"  She swayed, clutching at his coat lapels to keep upright.  "Why am I so weak?"

"We have to get back," he said urgently.  "Right now."

"Why?  What's going on – "  Her voice failed.  Her knees buckled.  Angel grabbed for her, but she was dead weight and he staggered.  "Buffy!"

Gently he lowered her to the ground, kneeling beside her.  Her eyes were closed.  He laid his head against her chest and listened.  Several long seconds dragged by before he heard the alarmingly faint thub-dub of her heart.  He knew what it meant:  back in Sunnydale her body, separated for too long from her soul, was giving up its laborious struggle for life.  Buffy was dying.

"No!"  He pulled Buffy into his arms, tangling his hands in her long golden hair.  Her eyelids fluttered, only half-conscious.  "Stay with me, Buffy.  Don't you dare give up now!  I won't let you!"

Deliberately Angel kissed her lips – as deliberately as she had kissed his fanged, vampiric mouth years ago at the ice rink, after fighting the Tarakan assassin sent to kill her.  There was no response, but he persisted, kissing her softly and whispering her name.  After a few moments her body twitched a little.  Then she drew in a long, shaky breath, and Angel felt the pulse of her life force return.

"Don't leave me, Buffy," he whispered.  "I love you; I've never loved anyone but you.  I need you."  He stretched out on the ground, holding her, and rained kisses on her face and neck.  She gave a deep, shuddering sigh.

"Hold me," was all she said.  "When we get back we won't be able to do this, so hold me now, as long as you can."  Angel held her, tightly, as her thin arms strained to embrace him and she pressed herself against him.  They stayed like that, moving only to exchange tender kisses that slowly grew more passionate.

Suddenly, without warning, Angel felt himself being pulled away from Buffy by a force that reminded him of Acathla's vortex, so powerful was it and so helpless was he to resist.  "No!" he tried to yell, but the word strangled, unvoiced, in his throat.  There was several moments of extreme disorientation, then the world grew steady again.  Blinking dazedly, Angel lifted his head.

He was sitting beside Buffy's hospital bed, his hand still clasping hers.  His eyes flew to her face.  Her eyes were still closed, but her respirations seemed stronger than they had been earlier.  Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it.  "Buffy?"

Her eyes moved beneath their closed lids, then the lids twitched.  Her head tossed on the pillow and she drew in a deep, ragged breath.  "Buffy, it's okay.  I'm here," Angel said encouragingly.  Leaning forward, he brushed strands of lank hair back from her face, then kissed her mouth.

A long sigh came from between her lips, then slowly Buffy opened her eyes.  It took almost a minute before she was able to focus on his face.  Her dry lips moved, but only a faint croak emerged.  She struggled to sit up.

"Here."  Angel poured some water into the plastic glass on the bedside table, then sat down next to Buffy and held the glass to her lips, supporting her against him while she drank thirstily.  "Not too fast."  He allowed her only a few swallows before replacing the cup on the table.

Buffy moistened her lips, swallowed a couple of times, and tried again.  This time her voice made it through, although it sounded rusty.  Not surprising, Angel mused, since she hasn't used it in two weeks.

"Testing one-two-three," she rasped.

He smiled at her, so relieved that tears sprang to his eyes.  "Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty."

Her lips moved in a slight answering smile.  "Did you wake me with a kiss?"  She moistened her lips again and swallowed, then made a face.  "Uck.  Actually, I kind of hope you didn't.  I don't suppose there's a bottle of Scope handy, is there?  The inside of my mouth tastes like a litter box."  Her voice sounded better, less like a creaky gate and more like herself.

"Does it?"  He tilted her face up, and then he echoed words from their past.  "I didn't even notice."  Deliberately he bent down and kissed her again.  A voice inside his mind was warning him that this wasn't smart, that it would only cause more problems, but Angel ignored it.  He knew their time together was limited, and knew that Buffy knew it too.  By God, he was going to make the most of it, within the limits of his soul's safety.

Her lips were soft and warm, but she kept them closed (no doubt because of her admittedly rank breath).  Even so, his kiss was willingly returned; with eagerness, even.  As much eagerness as she was capable of, anyway; she was very weak.

Angel placed another soft kiss on her mouth.  "Sleep now," he murmured. "You'll feel stronger after you've had a good night's, I mean day's, rest."

Buffy ignored his little sally.  "Will you still be here when I wake up?" she whispered, looking at him with shadowed eyes.

Angel hesitated.  Reason told him he should return to L.A., but love pleaded with him to stay.  Love, and his own wishes.  "I'll come back this evening," he finally said.  "After the sun goes down."

Her eyes brightened, but Angel's attention was caught by the motion of her door opening, slowly, almost stealthily.  He tensed, releasing Buffy and readying himself for action.  Sunnydale's demonic residents could only be delighted at the Slayer's incapacitation.  It was a mystery to him why none of them had yet tried to make her condition more permanent - as in dead.  Maybe this was that attempt.

A head peered around the door, and Angel relaxed.  It was Joyce.  Her eyes widened at the sight of Buffy sitting up in the bed.  "Buffy?"

Buffy smiled weakly.  "Hi, Mom."

Joyce hurried into the room and sat on the other side of the bed.  She took Buffy's hand.  "Oh, honey, thank God you're back."  Then she turned her head.  "And thank you, Angel.  You're the one who did it.  You brought her back to us."  Tears swam in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

Embarrassed by her gratitude, Angel only shook his head.  He searched for something to say.  "I didn't do it for you" didn't seem quite the appropriate response.  Before he found any words, Buffy spoke.  "Where's Riley?"

In the act of wiping her cheeks, Joyce stopped.  Her eyes flashed to Angel, then back to Buffy.  "We, uh, sent him home to get some rest.  Not his home - he's sleeping in our guest room."  She sounded uncertain, and  gave Angel a matching glance.

"What did you give him to make him sleep?  How strong was it?"

Angel realized Buffy was trying to estimate how long Riley would sleep, and smiled to himself.  It was a sad smile, though, recognizing that even as weak as she was, Buffy's stern conscience was pushing her to "face the music" with Riley as soon as possible, and that wouldn't be an easy scene to go through.  Not at all.

Joyce blinked, taken aback that Buffy knew about the sedative.  "I don't know.  It was something Rupert had.  He, uh, said it was strong enough to knock a horse out, so it ought to work on a thick-headed soldier."

"Especially one who was already exhausted."  Buffy's pale lips moved in a faint smile.  "So Riley probably won't come barging in til later this morning?"

Barging in?  Angel looked at her curiously.  Joyce shook her head.  "Rupert said he'd be astonished if Riley shook off the effects before ten or eleven o'clock."

"Good."  Buffy yawned.  "So, Angel, you can stay with me for a while."  She yawned again.  Caught by surprise, Angel hesitated.  He looked at the clock on the wall.  It was ten to two.

"The sun won't be up for hours yet," mumbled Buffy.  "You're not in any danger."  Turning on her side again, she slid down in the bed, nestled against him, and was asleep in about two seconds flat.

He stroked her hair, thinking vaguely how horrified she'd be when she was awake enough to be aware of its neglected condition, not to mention the huge bare patch on the left side of her head, and looked at Joyce.  What was her reaction to Buffy's . . . request?

Joyce smiled and gave a little shrug.  She stood.  "I'm going to tell everyone the good news.  Angel, I'll come back at six to relieve you, if that's all right?"

Angel smiled gratefully in return.  "Thank you.  Yes, that'll be fine.  I can spend the day at the mansion and come back here after sunset."  

Joyce walked to the door, then paused.  "Angel."  He looked up from his contemplation of Buffy.  "What's going to happen now?"  Her gaze was gentle, and worried.

He knew what she meant.  What kind of relationship would he and Buffy have?  How much more complicated would her daughter's already complex life become?  How much more stress and heartache would be added?  Angel could only shake his head.  "I wish I knew the answer to that," he said quietly.  "I only know that things won't be the same.  They can't be."

She regarded him for a long moment, then sighed and nodded her head.  Casting one more look at her sleeping daughter, she said, "See you at six," and vanished out the door.

Angel settled himself more comfortably beside Buffy, moving carefully even though he was pretty sure it would take an explosion to wake her now.  Wryly he hoped that the End of Days wouldn't occur any time soon.

He'd intended to spend this time while Buffy slept thinking over their situation - brooding, Cordelia would call it - and hopefully coming up with possible solutions.  But not long into his deliberations, to his surprise Angel found his own eyelids drooping.  Then he yawned.  It had been a long and stressful night for him too, especially since he no longer slept all day, every day.  Or what passed for sleep with vampires.

Since opening Angel Investigations he perforce stayed up later in the mornings, and more often than not rose before sunset.  There was research to be done, clients to meet with, witnesses to question, sites to be investigated.  Sometimes these could only be accomplished during daylight hours, and Cordelia and Wesley couldn't do everything, so slowly Angel's sleep habits had altered to accommodate the needs of his business.  Now he "slept" whenever he could fit it in.

Or, as now, when his body demanded it.  Vampires had exceptional powers, but even they needed to rest eventually.  I'll just close my eyes for a while, Angel told himself.  Besides, even if he did drop off Joyce would wake him before dawn.  Within a few minutes he lay in the trance that was the vampire equivalent of sleep.

He was walking with Buffy, in one of the many cemeteries they'd patrolled together for two years.  Something, however, was different: The sun was shining directly on them, and he hadn't burst into flame.

"I can't get used to it," he told Buffy, his head raised to look at the blue sky.  "It still feels like a dream that I'm going to wake up from."

She smiled indulgently.  "It's not a dream, Angel.  It's real.  I'd think that would have sunk in by now.  I mean, it's been two months since your shanshu prophecy came true."

Basking in the sun's warmth, he laughed out loud with sheer delight.  Two months that he'd been human.  Two months of uncursed, ensouled humanity, which he and Buffy had taken complete advantage of by going away on their first vacation together.  It had actually been only for two weeks and they hadn't gone far, just to Acapulco, but they'd stayed at a luxury hotel where they could sit in the bar, under a canopy to protect Angel's delicate skin, and sip tall, cool drinks while looking out over the ocean.

Two months during which they'd made love so often that the quart jar Buffy had insisted they drop a penny into every time they "did it" was filled almost to the brim with copper coins.  Two months in which to discover that their love wasn't dependent on them being Vampire Warrior and Slayer; that being just Angel and Buffy worked just fine.  Although, of course, Buffy was still the Slayer.  Nothing would change that but her death, and he was determined that event would be many, many years in the future.  He'd begun training, both with Giles and with Buffy, to get himself in the best physical condition possible so he could help her, as he'd always done.

Suddenly the sky darkened.  "What the - ?"  They gazed upward.  Huge black clouds had appeared out of nowhere, blocking the sunlight.  Suddenly Angel felt a hand on his shoulder, yanking him away from Buffy -

The floor came up and hit him.  Dazed and disoriented at being jerked from a sound sleep, he didn't resist as someone pulled him to his feet and sent him crashing into the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Blinking, he looked into the enraged face of Riley Finn.  Riley's lips were drawn back in a snarl, exposing his clenched teeth, and contempt blazed from his bloodshot eyes.  Angel's sweater was bunched in his fists, and with each sentence he banged the vampire against the wall.

"You just couldn't resist it, could you?  Couldn't resist coming here and forcing yourself on her!  You just had to get your foul hands on her!  Knowing that she's unconscious, that she wouldn't be able to tell you to get lost!"


On To Part Five