Crawl like ivy
up my spine
Through my nerves and into my eyes
Cuts like anguish
Or recollections
Of better days gone by"

"Sunshower" – Chris Cornell

The first thing I'm aware of when I open my eyes is something cool being spread on my face. My cheeks are aflame. I can feel the bruises and behind my eyelids, I see Mike's fist coming towards me- in slow motion, like a sick dance. Swallowing, I look up into Angel's gaze and he soothes me with a whisper, "You're safe. Don't try to talk."

"I can talk," I murmur back, and ignore the sting of vomit at the back of my throat from the white-hot pain. "What happened? I don't remember anything from when I came over."

His mouth tightens and he scoops some more of the thick clear gel from the jar he holds, touching his cool fingers to my neck, where I know there must be livid inflammation. "I took you to the hospital. They thought I beat you up," he says without inflection, but I know the horror that must have caused him.

I stroke his cheek lightly with my un-injured arm. "I'm sorry, baby."

He catches my palm and presses a kiss to it, his eyes tender. "Don't say you're sorry. It's not your fault, Buffy, you know that."

"I know," I sigh and he draws me very carefully onto his lap. I try and relax against him, wanting to be in the circle of his arms more than anything else in the world. I wonder why I ever try to fought us, him and then I find myself yawning. It hurts so much that I whimper a little and Angel caresses my back with his sure hands, which now tremble.

"I'm going to kill him," he mutters and it makes me want to smile… Angel, my champion, my hero. My knight. I can't let him be that right now.

"No you're not," I answer calmly. "I don't know what's going on. He might be… possessed, for lack of a better word. I need to figure this out, Angel. I don't want you killing him."

He takes a breath, and it whooshes through his lungs- I can hear it. I press my ear to his chest and listen to all the things going on in there. I remember when he was a vampire and I'd lie with my cheek against his chest. I never liked to listen to the nothingness inside of him… I suppose because I saw so much more. He runs a hand through my hair and then says, "If you think that's best. But you're not going back to live there. I want you here, with me."

"Ok," I respond softly, and snuggle closer. Biting my lip to still the stinging in my bones, I say, "I've got to call Giles again—"

"I already did," he informs me and then adds grumpily, "he thinks I should kill Mike to."

That makes me smile. "I'll bet. So what else did he say?"

"He said he's been researching heavily and he found some things." He pauses and then I feel his thumb brush the flat planes of my stomach. "Buffy… he says that he thinks we're going to have a baby…" he hesitates, " that because Byrony and Alesso's child died with her… that you're going to have it. Somehow, Byrony's essence has been placed with you, and Alesso's in me."

I try and breathe and know now that I've been right all along. There is someone inside of me. Something is growing inside of my belly. I always wanted to have Angel's little vampire… as I would say when I was sixteen, but of course I never thought it would happen. He told me that he couldn't. And I knew it. I wasn't upset about it as much as I think I grew to be… because then all I could feel was his kiss, his taste, his Angel eyes… I didn't care about ghosts of unborn children.

Now though… with Angel's baby in my belly, I feel the pang, the ache… that I suppressed when I was just a lonely Slayer out for blood. "How do you feel about that?" I finally ask him quietly.

He slides his hands into my hair, and I want to laugh because his fingers are still coated with the medicinal gel he slathered me in, and he whispers, "All I've ever wanted is you. I want everything to do with you. I want our baby."

I feel dizzy and lean into him, getting gel all over his sweater. Closing my eyes, I moan, "I need to sleep… everything hurts."

He caresses my lower back and lulls me to sleep with gaelic words and his Angel voice.

~~~

I awake once more late in the day, and glance at the window. The sun is still out, hanging low and heavy in the sky. It's burnt orange and a swirly yellow. It hurts my eyes. I wonder what Byrony thought as she woke up the morning of her execution, and realized she would never see another sunrise. I wonder if Alesso's heart screamed in pain when the rope kissed her neck.

Realizing there are tears burning in my eyes, I wipe them angrily and sit up, every bone in my body aching, throbbing with that special "you've had the shit beaten out of you" pain. My face is numb and I wonder exactly when I became a battered woman. Or a Goddess from another planet, for that matter.

Gingerly, I stand and walk out of the bedroom to the kitchen, where Angel sits, sipping a cup of tea and reading the paper. I lean against the doorway for a moment, simply enjoying watching him like this. It looks normal- as if we've been married for years, and I've just had an afternoon nap. As if he's going to get up and kiss me gently and then take me to bed and say he loves me against sweat-soaked sheets. As if no bruises stained my features, and no worry marred his expression. As if we didn't have blood and dust and moon-drenched rendezvous in our past.
"Are you feeling better?" he inquires without looking up. The paper rustles slightly as he sets it down and pours me a cup of tea, adding extra sugar and hot milk without asking. It makes me smile.

When he finally lets his eyes drift over me, I see his mouth tighten. He hands me the mug and then presses a soft kiss to my forehead, then to my nose. "My face is strangely fine," I respond and attempt a grin. "Must be the wonder-gel. As for my arm," I brush the sling with shaking fingers, "it's not feeling any pain right now. My ribs are killing me though."

"Yeah… they can't do anything about cracked ribs," he says regretfully. "But I think they mend fast."

"Yay," I sigh and settle myself down in a chair, moving carefully. Angel seats himself across from me and leans his chin on his hands.

"I talked to Giles some more," he informs me and breathes out. "Apparently… Byrony and Alesso's son… was destined to form a family… a people…that would someday save the world from Armageddon. Because they failed… because she was killed and Alesso never heard from again, the people were never formed and destiny was changed. However, the Powers that Be decided we were the prime candidates to have this baby."

I stare at him and then start to laugh. I laugh and it hurts, but I can't stop. "Haven't they fucked up my life enough?" I gasp, biting out the words with all the bitterness years of lonely nights and choking on dust from my prey. Sometimes I think my lungs are filled with that… filled with remnants from my past. Blackened with vampire residue… tinged with the scent and colour of the hunt that I loved. God… sometimes I just want to run away. Sometimes I want to be pretend to be a normal girl and know nothing of the stars or the moon or the way things are. "I can't believe this," I say dumbly.

He shakes his head and runs a trembling hand through rumpled hair. "I didn't know what to say either… especially since they apparently have admitted to Giles… through what medium I don't know… that they screwed up badly. Somehow Odin's essence got into Mike."

An image of his boot and his wild eyes comes to my mind and I choke down the bitter bile, thinking instead of the man I met a long time ago. That I decided I was going to spend the rest of my life with. That I bought a white dress for. Of course I know now that can never be… that that dress will never be worn… because of Angel, but that doesn't mean I don't remember. It doesn't mean I can't recall Mike's smile and his soft touch. He might not have been great all the time, but he was uncomplicated… at least in my view. "Oh Jesus," I murmur and gulp down the tea, the sugar hitting my veins with a dizzying effect.

He looks at me consideringly and then inquires, "Why did you become his fiancée, Buffy?"

I don't take time to think. "I needed to be with someone normal. Someone who wasn't going to kill my friends and my sister."

He doesn't appear surprised, and this does not shock me. He always knew me well- knew my worries and fears and all that baggage everyone has. He always knew the inner Buffy, the child-like one without the bravado and the bullshitting. I suppose that's another reason in the long list of why I love him like I do. He knows me. And there's nothing like that. Especially when a person knows you and still loves you like he loves me. Laying my hand on his cheek, I say, "It's not like I thought logically about it. But when Spike did that… for me, for my love… in some twisted way I felt responsible. Like there was something inside of me that attracted darkness."

He nods and strokes my face lightly. I can barely feel his skin on mine and that makes tears prick my eyes. I want everything with him right now. The stench of doom hangs around us with musky indifference… and I'm frightened. I know this feeling well… I've had it before… with Riley, with Spike… and with the Angel of my past. I remember it… I remember the sick syrupy gagging… my belly would feel split down the middle… like butterflies but a million times worse. And I don't know if I can survive it again. I don't know if there's a part of me that can live through Angel leaving, or Angel dying, or Angel hating me… I don't know if there's any small semblance of me left in this body… or if it's just him.

I used to look in the mirror when I was a teenager… during those long months when Angelus spun his bloody web around us all. I'd stare and stare, and never recognize myself- as the girl from before. Cause after we made love against his velvet sheets, after he kissed me and made the word all the more beautiful… I looked into my mirror and saw a girl in love. I saw a girl in love with love and in love with the night and the drug of him…

When he became something twisted, a monster with the face of the man who took my innocence… my reflection began to wobble a little. Blur at the edges. I appeared as if I was an addict needing a fix. I never told anyone about the dark as pitch nights when I'd lie in bed and my insides would be open… and ready, dripping wet for his heavy cock and his long fingers. Sometimes I'd fall asleep with the sobs still wrenching my raw throat, with the throb between my thighs so horrible, because I was craving evil… I knew it. I wanted something that was killing my friends, my family, Jenny Calendar.

But I still wanted it. I wanted him.

And I still do. But there's nothing in me that wants to go back… and I feel as if I'm walking a finely strung tightrope. One side there's Angel and the other side there's Angel, and if I fall… what will happen? What part of my life will be destroy? Gazing into his eyes now, I hear his soft response.

"You know there is nothing about what Spike did that was your fault, don't you, Buffy?" he asks firmly and I shake my head mutely. I can't say that- it wouldn't be true.

He sighs and then kisses me, his tongue tasting the salt of my mouth before he whispers fiercely, "Buffy… it was not your fault. Dawn and Anya and Tara… nothing about that was your fault. Yes, darkness is a part of your life. It always has been and to some extent it always will be." He pauses and kisses me again, his lips lapping gently at the tears washing from my hazel orbs. "Spike may have killed them in some bid to win your attention, in some way to hurt you… but you know Dawn and Anya and Tara never would have blamed you. Dawnie loved you. So much, Buffy."

I think of light brown locks and trusting blue eyes and I recall the baby powder smell of her skin and it starts to get blurry until Angel's hands cup my face, forcing me into the present. "Dawn would *never* have blamed you, love. Never."

Weeping silver tears I glance out at the window, at the wind chimes hanging by the pane, tinkling their musical rhyme in the breeze. "I know. I know she wouldn't have. Just like all the people I didn't save probably wouldn't blame me. But I can't help it, Angel… I blame myself. Guilt is a part of me now… you of all people understand that."

He smiles wryly and nods, "Point taken."

I kiss him tenderly, and then get up, walking around the narrow table to him, sitting on the cradle of his lap, my whole body a screaming ache. "I just need your arms around me," I whisper, so softly I'm not sure he would even hear me. "That's all I need."

"Ok," he responds, "ok, love." I fall asleep on his shoulder, lulled like a baby by the sound of his voice.

I walk beside a pond. It's a strange crimson colour- like spilt blood. There is a fallen body in the grass and I reach for it absently- wondering who died here. And then the face… it's Alesso, it's … and I see the pale dead flesh. A hole in his heart reminds me of my own chest and I faint, hitting the ground, my nose shattering, my forehead cracking. I feel nothing except blinding emptiness. My lover is dead.

My soul is dead.

I'm dead.

I can't breathe and I don't want to. Nothing that goes into my lungs makes sense anymore. Nothing can ever make sense again. "Alesso…" I moan raptly and then turning over, the sky spinning above me, I see him. He walks around me, his hands spanning my waist as he lifts me up.

"You're dead," I gasp and almost vomit at the words. My belly heaves with the wrenching sorrow as I glare at the body by the pond. "Alesso, love, why did you… why did you die? What happened? Was it Odin?"

His fingers brush my neck. He doesn't answer me, instead saying, "Do you feel this burn? Do you remember the rope, my golden haired love?"

Rope? What does he mean? Behind my eyelids I catch glimpses of a black hooded man, of a swinging coil of golden cord, of Odin's cold blue eyes… icy as a fijord, icy as Nifliem and the waterfall which leads to Hel. I don't understand…

"Rope?" I question blankly.

He looks sad, but thoughtful and whispers, "Never mind, Byrony." His thumb caresses the swell of my stomach. "Our baby."

"Our son," I remind him with conviction to my tone and he covers my mouth with his lips and I see stars and deadened planets and war and blood and I see two people who look like us… who wear strange clothing. I see dark eyes and streaks of lightening… I see rain and whispers and gravestones and Odin… I see a large black foot slamming into ribs. I hear the crack as they break. I see sweat and flesh and coverlets…

I see Alesso. He kisses me, and there he is by the pond, with dead eyes, with the sword, and I scream into his mouth as I watch him slice open his heart- my heart- and let it drip into the blue waters.

"no. No. NO!" I groan in despair. I remember. I remember my own death. It felt like drowning might. It felt as if I was choking on my own breath… like I am now.

"Yes," he whispers and the moon fattens overhead. "We're gone from this life, my sweet love. But I don't believe we are over."

~~~ Jerking awake, I rub my cheek and ear, both itchy from prolonged contact with Angel's sweater. He still reads the paper, and I can tell from the sky that I haven't been asleep long. My head feels muzzy. "Angel," I say calmly.

He presses an absent kiss to my forehead, one of the only places free of purplish evidence of Mike's rage. "Yes, baby?"

"We have to go home."

He looks up from the paper, startled. "What do you mean?"

I set my firm gaze upon him. "We have to go back to Sunnydale. I need to speak to the Powers that Be."

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