Scribes Of Angel

Memento Mori

Author: Trixie

Disclaimer: Joss et al own and destroy them. I merely attempt to rectify the damage he does!

Rating: R

Author’s Notes: SPOILERS for "I Was Made to Love You" and "The Body". Those who wish to remain unspoiled, travel no further

Summary: When Angel's bite suddenly starts to bleed, Buffy travels to LA and disovers some startling revelations

Category: B/A

It's morning. The sun shines through my window and blankets my hair and face with golden splashes. I thought I closed the curtains. Last night, if I remember correctly. Absently I turn over and look at the branches of the tree outside. They sway to the breeze calmly, the curved tentacles arcing through the air like spears. Nothing really looks different. It's open a little and I can hear kids playing. Shouting and running, their little lungs pumping air.

(Mommy…can I play outside? Dad says I can't

Of course, Buffy, don't listen to your father. Remember to wear your jacket and stay off the road

Don't worry, Mommy…I'm just going to take my dolls for a walk.

Ok, sweetie…you're going to be such a good mother one day

Thanks Mommy)

I sit up and my head feels dizzy. It would make sense, considering no food has gone into my body in a while. The duvet is cool around me, but I know I have to get up. Make Dawn breakfast. Force her to eat. She doesn't eat anymore either. Every time I see her she looks a little more wasted away. Her arms are so thin I can barely feel them around me when she hugs me at night. At night. I never realized how silent a house can be when there's no mother there. When you don't hear her brushing her teeth and washing her face before bed. When you don't hear her pulling back the covers and settling in with a book. When there's no one there to tell your little sister to get to sleep, cause she has a test tomorrow. When there's no one there that makes you feel safe.

I haven't been in her room lately. Except once to get one of her shirts. I've been sleeping in it. The nice Mom smell wrapped around me helps me to pretend she's still here.

Something is dripping down my neck. I'm not sure what it is. Tears? I've cried so much lately I don't even feel them anymore. Salt is second nature. The burning has become a part of me. Wobbling slightly I go over to the mirror and take a glance at myself, my eyes disinterested and wilted.

My neck is bleeding.

I touch the red holes with thumbs that tremble. His bite is weeping blood. The twin marks where his fangs went in, clean and deep are crying red tears. How can the scar tissue have opened up? I thought that didn't happen unless you…poked a fork through it or something. My stomach lurches as I gaze at myself. My ribs are visible through the thin cotton of my T-shirt. I wonder if I could count them.

Finding a band-aid, I place it firmly over the bite mark and go downstairs.

Dawn is staring off into space, her eyes red and swollen and huge. She looks like death. Like someone who has seen too much. Her hands grip something and I realize its Mom's pen. She always had this one pen she'd write down the shopping lists with and Dawn is clutching it.

I don't say anything to her at first. My throat works trying to speak but I suspect it might make things worse, so instead I reach for the coffee and scoop some into the canister, filling the holder with water. All normal movements that feel empty. That's nice. I like feeling like it's a normal morning. Sometimes I pretend it is, but the memories are getting fainter.

(Dawnie…would you please get the paper?

Sure Mom

Damnit, Dawn, quit taking the milk…

Shut up Buffy

Girls, really…I have to get to the gallery. Don't you think you're a little old for this?

No!)

All I know is that on these mornings…Mom's there. Mom's safe.

But she's not right now so I stand in the middle of the kitchen, my limbs strangely weak.

Dawn looks up and her eyes flash with horror. “Buffy…” She points to me and her lower lip trembles.

“What?” I ask and my voice is scratchy. “What is it?” I look down and that's when I become aware of the blood. It's dripping down my legs and pooling around my toes like a macabre red fountain. Pressing my hands to my neck, I feel the soaked bandage and the twin holes…bleeding, bleeding. For a moment I feel woozy and grab the counter with shaky hands. What is happening to me? For a moment I don't care and hope this is the end, but then I look into my sister's terrified face and realize she'd be all alone.

(You have to promise me you'll look after Dawn… if anything happens to me. Love her as much as I love you

Mom…

Buffy, please…promise me…

I promise)

“Call Giles…” I tell her, gasping a little and trying to stop the flow of hot, thick blood. Magickal blood that I gave to him once. That filled his throat and pumped life into his dead heart. “Tell him to come over…”

~~~

Giles is gentle with me. He sits me down and examines my neck. It's stopped bleeding heavily, but little bits flow out sometimes. “When did this start, Buffy?” he asks me.

“This morning, I think, “ I answer him and am surprised that I sound so calm. “It could've been at night and I just didn't notice.”

He nods sympathetically. “I see. Well I must admit, I'm not quite sure what this means. Have you had an trauma to this area lately?”

I shake my head. “No…nothing has even really touched my neck. I mean, it wasn't even like this after he…bit me.”

“Hmm…” Giles murmurs and tapes a new bandage over the re-opened cut. “I'll read up on this… did Angel…well, did he ever say anything to you, about the dangers of this?”

“What do you mean?” I inquire and ignore the way I hate the sound of his name. Ignore the way I wish more than anything that he was here, with his dark eyes and cool skin. With his duster and strong arms. With that heart that doesn't beat. I wish he was here to hold me and make this all go away. Make it all a dream.

“Did he ever say…that there could be repercussions from his…biting you?”

(It is never over! I won't let you die! Drink…drink from me…)

“No…” I murmur and rub my forehead, which is slick with sweat. I still feel like I might throw up. Dawn paces by the door. Her sobs are quiet, like little catches in her throat. My eyes don't look at her, but every so often I touch her hand and smooth her fingers with mine. It's a sister touch. Everything's going to be ok…I'm not dying like Mommy… “No. I don't think so. He didn't mention anything. Just sort of…left, you know.”

“I know,” Giles utters sympathetically and his hand curves over my shoulder. My bones must poke out into his palm. He stares at me for a moment. “You haven't been eating, have you?”

I shrug and almost laugh. “I really just haven't been hungry.”

He looks concerned and takes off his glasses to clean them. “Buffy…you may have to go to LA.”

“For what?” I play dumb and hope he'll retract that stupid statement. Go to LA? Yeah, right.

“To ask Angel about this,” he gestures to my neck, and the soaked bandage. “I'm worried…”

“I can't,” I say implacably and murmur, “the funeral is in two days.”

“You can be back before then,” he says and helps me stand. “You're going, Buffy.”

My eyes are large as I gaze up at him. His voice is firm but not cruel. He's not backing down and I don't want to fight so I go upstairs and pack a bag. The bandage and blood mock me in the mirror.

It's a long drive. Two hours and a little bit. My arms start to ache and my fingers tremble but I don't stop because I think if I do, I will turn around and go home. Home. Funny word. It sounds different now. It used to smell like burnt cookies and hair spray. A real girls place. Mom's perfume would always float through the halls because she was usually running around late for work or picking Dawn up.

Now it smells like nothing. Like emptiness and silence. I haven't made any cookies and Dawn hasn't used hair spray and Mom doesn't spray perfume anymore. She doesn't do anything anymore.

(Buffy will you fasten my dress for me?

Sure, Mom, where are you going?

Your Daddy and I are having dinner. Look after Dawnie ok?

Do I HAVE to Mommy?

Ok…how about for ten bucks?

Fifteen…

(She laughs) Okay, Buffy…

(I kiss her) Have a good time…

(She touches my hair. Her hands are like silk.) I'll be home to kiss you goodnight…

…to kiss you goodnight

…goodnight…)

The car swerves. There are tears running down my cheeks and my stomach hurts. I'm not surprised because I don't even remember a time when it didn't. The road stretches ahead of me like a long grey ribbon. Beside me is the ocean. It curls on the shore, blue, blue, blue and far out, I can't tell where the sky starts and the sea ends. I once heard that pilots can get lost at night if they aren't able to make out the horizon line and then they can't tell which way is up. And which is way is down. Everything is just an endless black blob.

I wonder what it's like to be 30 000 feet up in a steel tube. Hearing the wind rushing by as you plummet. I wonder what it's like to feel the water ripping through you. And then I wonder if I'm insane. I'm thinking no, because everyone tells me it's normal to have weird thoughts after your Mom dies. Sure, yeah…Buffy, it's ok if you feel strange. These emotions are normal.

Then why do I feel crazy?

Pressing a hand to my neck, I poke the bandage. It's soaked clean through, and feels squishy underneath my fingertips. My thumbs are stained with a slight red hue. Giles said he was going to read up on it, and I have to admit that I'm not worried. What do I care anyway? It is making me feel slightly woozy which I almost enjoy. My slayer powers haven't closed the bite up again which is why Giles said he was so concerned. Dawn just kept crying. I don't blame her. I took her over to Xander's and let her stay there.

I have the heating up full blast and it's a hot sunny day outside. My shirt sticks to me in wet patches. Under my arms and in between my breasts. My belly button feels sticky. But inside I'm cold. Like a sheet of ice has been shoved between my muscles and bones. Reaching up, I touch my face and feel how flushed it is. The blood trying to escape from its bandage is hot and thick.

It takes a while to reach LA. Land of sun tan lotion and palm trees. And broken dreams and sour hopes. Maybe I'd fit in here. Driving as fast as I can, the white buildings a blur, I come to the heart of Los Angeles, where Angel Investigations is located. There is just a pile of rubble.

Stopping the car, I climb out and stare. Grey chunks of rock and old grass clog where the building stood. I know I'm not in the wrong place. With an aching forehead, I rub my neck and turn slowly. Tears well painfully behind my eyelids. I want to cry, but I won't, because that would be like saying something is wrong with him and I won't say that. Something in me would have felt it if he had been caught in whatever destroyed this place. Whatever part of me that I know is still connected to him. Would have felt it. Damnit, I'm sniffing back the tears but they are coming in great gulping sobs.

“Don't cry.”

Gasping a little, I glance up and into the wizened face of a man. Demon, I automatically smell. But I don't whip out a stake because he hasn't done anything to me and death isn't who I am and I feel crazy so I look at him closely. “I'm not crying.”

He smiles at me and leans in. “LA sucks,” he replies confidentially. “City of Angels? Yeah right… we all know it's the City of Devils.”

I almost roll my eyes at this sentence because some humour is still left in me. Somewhere in this dried up shell I used to call a body. Body.

(Mom…Mom…Mom…Mom…MOM!

My Mom…she isn't breathing.

I think I broke something.

She's cold…

NO! My Mom…should I make her warm?

We're not supposed to move the Body!

The body's cold? NO! My Mom…)

He's a demon, I think suddenly. Maybe he knows where Angel is. Besides I know I have to end this conversation. He may look normal but he's gazing at my neck with interest. “Do you know what happened to this place?” I ask and he shrugs.

“Fire, I think. Could have blown up.”

“Was anyone killed?” I inquire and my throat feels heavy.

“Sure, honey,” he answers absently, his beady glare on my neck still. Licking his lips, he darts a look around, and losing all patience, I grab him by the scruff of his neck with all my Slayer strength. He squeaks and stares at me wordlessly.

“Ok then,” I say firmly. “Tell me someone who does not have their head shoved up their ass. So I can get some clear answers.”

His face is bulging as he points down the road and chokes out, “Caritas. Demon bar. The Host will tell you…”

I drop him unceremoniously at my clog-clad feet and nod, before getting into the car and driving down the street. I see the sign, but the place looks empty. Trying my luck anyway, I park and knock on the door.

It takes a while, but finally I hear a “Coming. Coming, keep your pants on.”

It opens and there stands the strangest demon I've ever seen. In a bathrobe. He looks me up and down and sort of smiles. “Come in, honey.”

Taking a step inside, I realize that this is a bar. A stage is set up in front and empty tables look forlorn in the dim lighting. “I'm looking for the Host,” I inform him and he rubs one of the spikes set firmly in the green of his skull.

“That's me, honey. And you are…the Slayer, if I'm not mistaken.”

Blinking, I extend my hand and he shakes it. His hands aren't slimy or anything. Cool and clean. A weird colour, but at least they feel normal. His mouth is red as he grins at me and motions for me to sit down. “Now what can I do for you?”

“I need some help. In locating a person… and I was told that you were the person to…call in on.”

He looks thoughtful. “Is it the person who gave you that nasty bite?”

I flush and involuntarily reach up to touch my neck. “Yes, actually. But that's not the reason I'm looking for him. I just need to talk to him. I need some answers.”

He cracks his knuckles and crosses his legs, motioning to the stage. “Ok then, honey. Show me what you've got.”

“Ex- excuse me?” I mutter and he groans.

“Sing, angel. Sing, that's what you need to do to get answers in this place. I can only look into your soul if you sing.”

“Soul?” I screech quietly. “Soul? Oh…no, I just need to know where he is…I didn't say anything about you doing weird things to my soul…and besides, I can't sing a note!”

He gives me a little push towards the stage and flicks a switch. The spotlight goes on and I'm bathed in a soft golden glow, which glints, off my blonde hair, creating sparkles of light. There's a microphone and stool. Picking up the former, I sit down and look at him doubtfully. He's grinning and he looks like Kermit the Frog from Hell. Grimacing, I hear music begin to play.

I know this song. My voice wavering, I start to sing, at barely a whisper. I want to know where Angel is. I have to know and if that requires embarrassment, well then…

“Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever gonna make it home again
It's so far, out of sight
I really need someone to talk to, and nobody else
Knows how to comfort me tonight”

I feel myself getting stronger as I continue. The Host looks on with his hand under his chin, his eyes alive as he sees me. Is he looking inside me right now? Can he see my Mom… cold and blue on that morgue table? Can he see Dawn's childish fingers reaching out for her face…that one last touch. Can he see me sobbing like my insides were going to open up after we got back from the hospital? Does he see the vomit on the floor…can he hear the wind chimes? Does he hear the children laughing?

Does he see Angel leaving me? Spinning away like a dime in the shadows? Can he feel the sword I held in my hand…the one I shoved into his chest? Does he sense the hunger I felt…the hot heaviness of my skin every time Angel touched me?

Does he feel my despair?

“Snow is cold,
the rain is wet, chills my soul right down to the marrow”

My eyes fill with burning tears. They drip down my cheeks like fire, but I ignore them because they are useless and won't make any of this different. Mommy is cold and still. Like a painting. I told Dawn that wasn't her and I meant it. She's not in that body. And I guess I wish I knew something. Knew what she was doing right before she died. Had she just finished putting the flowers in water? Had she smelled them…did she die with their scent still in the air around her? Did she feel a lot of pain…did she call for me?

“I won't be happy till I can see you alone again
Till I'm home again
And feelin right
Feeling right”

The Host sits up straighter and stares hard at me. I'm singing strongly, the tears running down my neck, mixing with the blood. The bite has opened up. It's like the thought of Angel makes it bleed. Again I think about how much I hate him for leaving me. How much I loathe him for what he left me to. How he didn't sense I was in pain and come rushing back. How much I hate the way I still love him and crave him and long for him. How much I hate myself.

“ Snow is cold
the rain is wet
chills my soul, you know you thrill my soul
right down to the marrow

I won't be happy till I can see you alone again
Till I'm home again
Till I'm home again
Till I'm home again and feelin right”

As the last chords die away, I look up and wipe my face and neck, smearing salt and blood on my shirt and skin. I can't care about that so I slide off the stool and look at the Host. “What can you tell me?”

He taps his chin and shrugs. “I think your answer is that the door right now.”

My whole body jerks as I turn and stare at the open door, coming from what I can only assume is the sewers. Angel stands, still and unmoving, staring at me like he's seeing a ghost. Realizing he must have heard me sing, I sigh and tell him,

“I've been looking for you.”

He stares at me for a moment and I think he is looking at my blood-smeared collarbone and the salt tracks on my face. I think he is seeing how broken I am. Angel…I think, you broke me. You ate me up and fucked me and then left me to the wolves. Are you happy now? He takes a step towards me.

“Why have you been looking for me?” he asks and his voice is unnaturally harsh. “What happened? What happened to you?”

His questions make me laugh. It hurts my throat but I force the giggles up and watch the two demons gaze at me. The Host looks knowing. He doesn't think I'm weird. But Angel does. He's wondering whether or not I lost my mind. “What happened to me?” I repeat hollowly and slump onto a chair, crossing my thin legs like weapons that are cocked. “Where do you want me to start?”

He appears confused and somehow I don't blame him. Even I am. “Start from the beginning.”

(I didn't mean to be out late, Mom

Oh really?

Don't look at me like that…I swear, there is the best explanation for this. It's so explainable. This situation.

Oh well, then Buffy…enlighten me

Where to start? (I laugh and try and look innocent)

From the beginning would be good. And don't leave anything out.)

Shaking my head, I ignore the fresh tears and the burning nauseous tremble in my stomach. My blood is hot and syrupy as it drips down my shirt. I know I must look like a disaster victim, but the ability to care escapes me. “My Mom died,” I begin flatly, because if I let emotion creep into my voice or look at him I will sob and fall to the ground like a broken doll.

“Buffy…” he chokes out but I raise my hand and stop him talking.

“Don't,” I warn him and point to my neck. “Afterwards this started up and I don't know what to do about it. The bite is bleeding and I need to know…what it means.”

He lowers his body gracefully onto a chair and rubs his drowning eyes. “I don't…I'm not sure. I've never heard of anything like this happening before. Did you… hit it somehow?”

“No,” I reply curtly and stare at him with curious eyes. He looks different and tired and older. I don't know how that's possible.

The Host suddenly breaks in quietly. “Well, kids, I may be able to help.”

Angel turns to him as if he'd forgotten he was there. The big green creature smiles and his mouth is so red I wonder if he wears lipstick. Or maybe it's just a demon thing. Woozily, I lean back and gaze up at the ceiling, which is high and far away.

“What's going on with her?” Angel asks and his voice is low and deadly. He means business.

“Well keep your itty bitty pants on sonny,” the Host answers with a laugh, and then clears his throat as I presume Angel fixes him with the look of death. His death. “Ok, here's what I managed to get from the singing… she needs to drink from you.”

That makes me snap back to attention. “What?” I say before Angel can.

“Well, as I understand it,” the Host says calmly and looks at the vampire, “you left her before you turned her? Am I correct?” Off his nods, he continues, “That's part of the problem here. You left her hanging, my boy. To the point of death but you didn't give her any of your blood. She's been essentially high and dry these last two years.”

I flush and shift uncomfortably. My ex-lover doesn't look at me. I know he's remembering the taste of me in his mouth. How I filled his throat and pumped new life into his wound. They say Slayer blood is magickal. Powerful. Suddenly I wonder what it was like for him. To feel me thrumming in his veins. Would it make him go crazy? Or would it be comforting?

“What else is there?” he inquires stiffly.

“Well…if she doesn't drink you, sonny…she's going to croak. Eventually she will get weaker and weaker until…” he snaps his fingers and sits back. His green skin glints in the light and it sparkles before my eyes like he's a dragon underwater. Spitting fire…blood and fire. Dizzy, I reach up and touch my neck faintly, pressing my fingers to stop the flow. But it's useless. My eyes are drawn to Angel's neck. To his pale flesh and the place where his pulse used to throb. Throbbing…vampyre…

(Drink me…drink! It's never over… Drink…

…drink me

… drink)

“If I do this…will she be turned?” Angel is asking and their voices sound so far away because my ears are roaring. I can feel the copper vase in my crushing fingers, feel the heaviness of his chest, the table crashing underneath my booted foot…hear his groans…

“Heavens no!” the Host replies with his drawl that grates on my nerves. “Well… I guess not. You know, the truth is, I don't have a clue. Look it's either death or the unknown. Take your pick.”

“They're the same thing…” I mumble and glance at both of them through slitted eyes. “What do we know about death? Is it a place full of roses…full of sunlight and flowers with smiley faces on them?” I laugh and sit up, my tone garbled. “Do you think that's where my Mommy is going? Do you think she's happy? Laughing? Glad she died…cause gosh, isn't this place just the best?” I feel and hear my voice crack as I turn on the Host. “Do you see her? Can you see my mother? Does she wish she were back with me and Dawnie… does she miss us already?”

Angel reaches out and takes me in his arms. I feel the cold fabric of his duster against my cheek and lean into him. His hands are steady and strong on my back. He has me tight. I can't even cry cause it hurts too much. My throat catches as I try to breathe and I'm making keening animal noises into his chest. He rocks me and smoothes my hair, kissing my forehead. He sounds like he wants to weep. His lips are cool on my hot hot skin.

“I don't understand…” I hear him saying to the Host. “Why would this happen now?”

“Truthfully I don't know,” he answers. “The shock of her mother might have brought it on…but maybe the Powers that Be thought you two had to be brought back together. Listen sonny, I ain't hearin no voices right now. Your girl Friday is the one to ask these questions. Maybe she'll have one of those insightful visions. All I know is that if she doesn't have a taste, she's going to be six feet under in no time.”

“Thanks,” Angel mutters and picks me up. I loop my arms around his neck. My legs feel wobbly and I know I wouldn't be able to walk. He still knows me. He can still anticipate things like that. It makes me hate him and myself even more. He carries me out into the sewers where it is dank and dark. I wonder…if he turned me…would we walk the darkness together? Would he feed me each night and be with me always? Would we walk through sewers like this one for thousands of years…until all the nights have gone away?

“Angel…” I whisper and wonder what it would be like to have him as my sire. Wonder what it would be like to live forever. He doesn't answer me, just cradles me tighter and I know it must be hell for him because my blood is all over his skin now. He can smell it, I know. Smell me. Want me. My belly feels empty as I curl my face into his neck and imagine biting down.

What would it be like…to have fangs and hunger? What would it be like to have Angel's blood inside me… running through my veins like wildfire? What would he taste like… copper? Sugar? Death…life… love or a bond? Roses and rain…

(Buffy…would you come in out of the rain?!

I can't Mommy… these puddles are huge. You know I have to jump in them first…

Buffy Anne Summers…! You don't even have a raincoat on.

C'mon…Mommy…you should come outside to and play with me…

You're going to catch your death of cold…

…death of cold…

…cold…

…death…)

“We're here…” Angel says gently to me as he opens a door and we're inside what looks to be a large hotel. So this is where he lives. I don't like it. Too big. I feel too small and little. Not strong, just tiny and insignificant.

He sets me down and we face each other. My legs shake and I lean against the counter. I feel blood all over me and it's sticky and warm. Angel breathes in even though he doesn't have any breath and looks at me.

“What are we going to do?” I ask him softly.

His eyes are wide, open and terrified. They look like my Mom's. “I don't know,” he answers. “I don't know.”

I sit down on the velvety stairs because my knees are still shaking and I don't want to fall in front of him. Involuntarily my hand goes to my neck to press on the bite and it stings a little as I touch it with my fingers. Angel follows the movement with impenetrable eyes.

Finally he clears his throat and leans against the counter. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my life blood is draining away,” I snap and flip my head back so my hair flows over my shoulders in messy gold waves. “You?”

“Like you're dying,” he responds curtly. “Not good.”

That takes the wind out of my proverbial sails. Sighing, I look at him with green eyes that I know are full of fear. “What are we going to do Angel? We have to do something.”

He nods and doesn't answer. He's thinking. I can tell just by looking at him that his mind is working furiously, weighing out all the options and the pros and cons and all the bull shit I can't be bothered with. What do I care what happens? My Mom is going to be buried under six feet of cold earth in a day and a half. I might as well join her. Dawn…I force myself to remember. Dawn needs you.

“Angel…” I ask suddenly. “How did your mother die?”

His head snaps around to glance at me. “I killed her,” he answers flatly and then I recall him telling me that a long long time ago. A roaring in my ears makes me feel strange.

My throat works to say I'm sorry but finally I give up because it's not worth it anyway. Nothing's going to bring his Mom back. She's bones in the earth now. Back in Ireland with the soft heather and the gravestones. In a few years that's all that will be left of my Mommy to. Bones.

(These dinosaur bones are weird, Mommy. Why did I have to come on this stupid school trip anyway?

It's educational. And shush…your teacher will hear you.

Did you *really* want to chaperone?

Of course I wanted to…what a question!

Mommy…

All right…I already told you, no one else could do it.

(I giggle like a daughter that shares a secret with her mother) I won't tell anyone, promise.

Cross your heart?

And hope to die…

(die) (hope lost…)

…die…)

“We should just do what the Host says,” I tell him wearily and my head flops back slightly. “He's the Boss guy…he knows the stuff right?”

Angel walks towards me quickly and grabs me. I hadn't realized I was falling backwards. He picks me up in his arms and cradles me close. “I never should have put you down,” he whispers remorsefully and I touch his cheek because I remember what it was like to love him and have him leave me. Because I remember those years when he loved me to and everything was golden. When I thought there might be a God.

“You could be turned if we do this,” he informs me as he carries me upstairs. My eyes glance at the soaring ceilings and the endless red and grey and black. All the colours of death and fire. As we enter a room, I know it's his. It smells like him and breathes like him. How can he possess so much presence? It makes me dizzy.

His hands lay me on the bed and I stare up at him, my bones hurting. “I don't feel good.”

He strokes my forehead and belly and his fingers are strong and gentle. His fingers, oh god, are all I need forever. “Do you need to throw up?” he asks me softly and sweat breaks out on my tightly stretched skin. A throbbing emptiness in my belly sounds like the death knell.

“No…I'm hungry…” I whisper and he rears back a little because he knows what I mean.

“Buffy…no…” he cries quietly but I stop him, soothing his face with my hands, trying to sit up, which is getting harder. My body creaks as I murmur;

“I'm going to die if we don't do it. I can't…leave Dawn alone. She needs someone. She needs me…and I can't abandon her.”

“A vampire for a sister?” he mutters angrily and I shrug.

“It's better than no sister. Listen…Angel…” my voice cracks, “I can't die…not now, no matter how much I want to. Dawnie needs me, I have to be there for her. Mommy made me promise…my Mom made me promise.”

His eyes shadow and then clear. He understands me and I know then that he will do it. “Come here…” he draws me close and I press my shaky skin against him, getting as close as I can. He smells me and kisses my cheeks and my hair. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispers against the bones of my shoulder.

That makes my eyes go bright with tears. As the salt drips down my face, I rub the back of his neck, where the hair gets soft and short. “I always loved you.”

He lays me back down against the pillows that are permeated with his scent and opens the bottom drawer of his beside table, drawing out a knife. The silver glints in the faint light. I stare at it and perspiration floods my flesh, because the knife looks sharp and I think it's going to hurt him.

With one long movement, he slides it across his wrist. A thin red line blossoms on his milky pale skin and my eyes go wide, my breathing shallow. Angel's gaze burns me as he extends his wrist to me. Taking it with my trembling small fingers, I stare for a moment at his blood. Angel's blood.

Then I lift it to my lips and watch him watching me. I drink.

Oh God…

(Sshh…just kiss me…

when you kiss me I wanna die

this isn't some fairytale…when I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep…

sleep…

I WON'T let you die! DRINK!

I know everything that you did, because you did it to me…

I wish that I wished you dead

I love you so much…)

Copper and sugar…his blood slips cool down my throat and my tongue sweeps out…my mind whirling in wild hot swirls. Woozily, I creep closer to him, sucking hungrily, the blood dripping over my lips and down my throat, mixing with my own that floods my neck. Moaning slightly, I drink and drink… my teeth scratching at his flesh, my body closer and closer to his. He whimpers and watches me, his eyes black with all the fire I remember.

One million nameless, faceless victims… Darla…Spike…Drusilla… me…it all sweeps into my belly and veins as I grope for more, dropping his wrist and kissing him in a frenzy of hunger that I didn't know I was capable of. Angel yanks me against him, his lips and tongue ravenous in their salty sweet kiss. A wave of heat slams into me as I feel him so hard and hot against my stomach. Pulsing… vampyre… give me life…

“Buffy…” he groans against my neck as his tongue rasps over the long ago bite, and I feel his fangs, so sharp, drive clean and deep into the holes that once opened for him. Gasping, my mouth open, I fall back against his arm, feel the blood leaving me, pumping out of my body into his throat. He swallows and his fingers are suddenly between my legs, inside me and it makes me shudder because they are hot and so am I and I think I'm burning. My ex-lover drinks me and fills me up- fuller than I've ever been. My thighs ache and I spread them as wide as I can, forcing him to go deeper.

“Angel…” I choke out and feel his cheek against my chin as he stops drinking me and I almost growl in frustration. But then his mouth is where his fingers were and I pick up his wrist, my tongue licking the blood streaming from the thin cut. My skin throbs with rebirth and I see huge stars before my eyes before I pass out. Hot blue waxy stars that shimmer just out of reach.

“Buffy…” I hear as I black out into a deep dreamless slumber.

~~~

The first thing I'm aware of when I wake up is the hunger.

It is alive inside me. I need it. Hunger. Peace…give me something…more… throbbing…hot, wet, blood…

I open my eyes and there he is. Sitting in front of me. “Hello,” I say and smile.

He is wary. “Buffy?”

Tilting my head, I glance at him with confused eyes. “Pretty much,” I whisper and he looks stricken and terrified and his hand yanks apart my dress as he presses a hand to my chest.

“No heart beat…” he breathes. “But you're not a vampire…what the hell did I do to you?”

I stare at Angel because I don't understand him. But I feel it. A cold space where my heart used to be. An emptiness, an iciness. And my lungs…they're not breathing.

And the hunger.

My belly aches.

“Angel…” I say softly, the way I always say his name, like a question. He looks down at me, his eyes stricken, terrified.

“Buffy?” he asks quietly, and his fingers smooth over my breastbone. He is trying to find the beat of my heart. His thumbs press into my skin fiercely but it doesn't hurt. “Do you feel any different? Emotionally…?”

“Not evil,” I murmur because I know that's what he's asking. He breathes relief and his hands leave my flesh. Arching my back, I stretch my body like a willow tree, trying to get closer to him. I see my ribs poking out and think that I need to eat. Food… hunger…

“I'm hungry…” I tell him and he starts to get up.

“I'll get you some food.”

“No…”

With trembling hands, I reach out and touch his shoulders, his chest, the thin welt on his wrist. “You… I need…Angel, I need…blood…”

As I say the word I feel my mouth go dry and then wet in a rush of longing. What am I? “What have you done to me?” I whisper despairingly, and try to breathe. It hurts, because I realize I don't need to. Tears rush into my eyes and I sit up, my whole body dead and alive at the same time. And hungry, so hungry.

“I don't know,” Angel weeps and I climb on his lap, licking away the salt with my tongue.

“Don't cry, sire,” I murmur without thinking and hear myself gasp. Angel stares at me and his eyes flare with a fire I don't know. I feel a flash of something ancient in my veins, roaring through me like a wildness I've never known. But I know him. I know this creature that sits under me.

He owns me.

He made me.

He's killed millions and not cared. He used to feed in the dead of night, walked like a ghost through sleepy towns and yearn for the taste of blood. He had a thousand lovers and only one that mattered. He was the Scourge of Europe and survived death and fire, riots and screams…stakes and sunlight, and slayers…

I feel dizzy. I know him. A stirring in my skin reminds me of days long ago. Did I live back then? When tigers roamed and the hot skies loomed overhead…did I use skins to gather water…did I run like a panther and feed with blood dripping past my lips…? Oh God… my mind whirls…

I know this man. I know this demon. I know his soul and his blood and his pain. He owns me.

“I'm yours,” I utter firmly to Angel, and I don't know what I'm saying, but it feels right. He kisses me because he can't help it and my whole being is calling to his. Bending me back against his arm, he drives his tongue into my mouth and I moan, grunting like an animal. Is that what I am now?

“Please…”

He takes out the knife and I see his regret as he slashes it quickly across his chest. Pressing my face to his cool skin, I let my tongue lap gently around the stream of blood.

Oh God…

My life…my mouth…

Come unto me…my vampire, my lover…

Salt and copper, sugar and sharp syrupy wetness… it fills my throat and I drink, swallowing and feeling the glow sweep down my flesh. Angel's hands twist through my hair and he holds me to his chest with a groan. This is all I need, all I want. I want to kneel and bow to him. I want to be his everything…his reason for living. I want him to be my reason for living. Ravenous, I push him backwards and lay over him, the strands of my hair spilling over his face as I suck with my mouth and tongue at his blood.

He pushes me off him so suddenly that I topple to the floor and my head cracks against the carpet. Hazily I look up at the ceiling and realize how far away it is. Black stars shine before my eyes, dancing and shimmering. Wonderland, I think. I'm in Wonderland. Where nothing is how it appears. Rolling over, my bones creak with the jarring I received as I hit the floor and I watch Angel button his shirt. Wet patches spot the material where his blood has leaked through. My thighs are sore…between them is open. I need him to fill me… god…I need him. He owns me.

“Will you fuck me, sire?” I whisper and his head jerks around to stare at me.

“Buffy…” he mutters angrily and he yanks me up by my arm, his fingers bruising. I like it. He's hurting me. I want to feel something.

“Will you? Fuck me…please…”

“No…Buffy, this isn't you,” he says, his voice faltering and he sits me down on the bed, turning away to run his hands through his hair absently. “I have to go see the Host. Find out what the Powers the Be say… you stay here.”

“Ok,” I answer obediently and he looks shocked.

“You're not going to argue with me?”

“No, sire.”

Growling with rage, he grabs me and kisses me ferociously, muttering against my lips, “The name is Angel. Don't call me that anymore.”

I yelp with pain as he tugs on my lip with his teeth. They're sharp and it wakes me a little. “Angel, yes…Angel,” I repeat and hold him with my strong arms for a moment.

Then he leaves and I'm alone. I lay back on the bed and stare with dry, darting eyes.

~~~

I wonder who I am now.

(Mom…god, wearing a bra does not make me a woman.

Relax Buffy…I said you were 'becoming a woman'.

Oh My God… I can't believe you. Look, just don't go blabbing on about this to all the female relatives. I don't need to have a big 'first bra sharing storytime' with them.

(She laughs) Oh, Buffy. So dramatic. I won't tell a soul.

You promise?

Completely. My lips are sealed.

You know… it's like I'm not even Buffy anymore. Now I'm supposed to be a woman, for crying out loud.

You've always been a woman. Grown-up. You were always older than your age, honey.

(I scowl) These under wires hurt.)

I was never allowed to be Buffy. A woman. Older than her age. The Slayer. The orphan. Father's MIA. Mother's dead. And now…an animal. A vampire? I don't know. Wearily I turn over and the softness of the duvet pillows my cheek. I pretend I am lying against Angel. But he's hard. Damnit…I'm hungry. I'm thirsty and hot and hungry and angry and old and the Slayer and an animal…

Angel has a painting on his wall of a dragon with a knight slaying him. A huge green dragon with scales and a fire-spitting mouth. The knight has silver armour and a long golden sword. It reminds me of how I killed Angel. But then, everything does. I remember the summer afterwards when I was in LA. Sleeping reminded me of him.

Angel's sleeping a deep sleep.

Coffee made me think of him. The darkness of it, it's smell, rich and earthy and mellow. It made me jittery, like he used to. Sometimes at night I'd smell the air and I'd be back at the mansion, sticking that razor sharp sword through the belly of the man who loved me who had just kissed me who had just told me he loved me who had just kissed me whose salt I had on my lips who I loved who I lived for I killed him and left and I was never the same again because he was the man who loved and kissed me and I killed him…

Leaning over the side of the bed, I feel my stomach revolt and I want to throw up. I'm sick, so sick. I'm a monster now. I failed my Mommy.

(Promise me you'll look after Dawn. Love her as much as I love you…)

I failed Angel.

(Buffy? What's going on? … I love you…)

This isn't the world I know. In my world I save people. I'm not one of the people who is killed. I kill. Because it's my duty and I'm supposed to. Now I'm drinking blood and hungering for blood and calling Angel 'sire' and I don't have a mother I feel so sick and empty and alone… Oh god… are you out there God?

~~~

When Angel comes home I feel faint with happiness. Reaching out my arms for him to come, I smile when he walks forward and holds me. His mouth is tight but his eyes are gentle because he loves me and I know he does. “I'm going to clean you up, now,” he tells me.

“Why?”

“Because we're going to see the Oracles,” he informs me like I should know who they are.

“The who?”

For a moment I see something flash in his eyes and then he nods imperceptibly. “The Oracles. They speak for the Powers the Be. The first were destroyed a while ago, but the Host just told me that two more were summoned. I was never told about them. Anyway, I'm going to put you in the shower all right?” he asks as he turns on the taps.

I discard my clothing and step underneath the hot spray. It burns my cold as ice skin and I shiver, lathering up with soap and shampoo as quick as I can. Shaking, I get out and rub my flesh with a fluffy towel, pulling on my clothes once more, which I notice Angel has thrown in the dryer for a few moments to make the material more warm and welcoming.

It makes me smile. I look in the mirror and the curve leaves my lips as if it had never been there. I have no reflection. No me. Walking closer and closer, I touch the glass and see the bathroom that is behind me. The sinks gleam white. Where am I? Nothing, nobody… no one Buffy.

(Mommy…I swear, no one knows me at Hemery. They didn't go to Lakegrove.

You'll meet new people, I know it, honey.

It's like I don't exist. I'm nobody.

That's not true. You're Buffy, and you've always been popular. I'm sure it'll be the same at Hemery, just give it time.

Time sucks.

Very eloquent Buffy. Time for dinner, set the table ok?

Great, Mom. I'm in pain, I'm suffering and to comfort me, you ask me to set the table. Incredible mothering.

Don't be melodramatic. Set the table before your father comes home.

(I scowl and glare at her) I can't believe you. You're such a doormat.

(Her eyes go wide with anger…and a peculiar hurt that I cried about later) Don't speak to me that way, Buffy. You can eat in your room if that's how you're going to act.

Fine… like I care. (then I went in my room and cried. Because I saw a sadness in her eyes that was too big to be ignored. She knew she was alone. )

Closer and closer…and still, nothing. No one. My eyes weeping, I press my face to the glass and shriek. Where am I? WHERE DID I GO?

“Buffy?” Angel comes into the room and spots me. “What's wr—?”

He trails off as he realizes and takes me into his sure and strong arms, embracing me tight. I crush my body against his, because it is the only constant in my life. Angel has always been with me. Even when I killed him and he was sent to Hell…I was with him. He came to my dreams with sunlight and a harsh voice. But it was Angel. When he came back, he was still by my side…he couldn't stay away from me. He loved me. I would send him away. I would tell him I needed a break, but I couldn't leave and neither could he. We were stuck and I liked it. Cause I didn't want anyone else. Anything else.

I guess I thought maybe he was finally gone when he left me. I jumped into the relationship with Riley and thought fiercely that he was going to be the person who I depended on. He was going to complete me and love me and everything was going to be rosy. Rosy like in fairytales.

Then I guess I woke up. Like sleeping beauty. Except no Prince kissed me and I didn't get to live happily ever after. Riley let me in on the secret that everyone was keeping. I was never going to love him, I hadn't given myself to him, he was not completing me.

And so I went on again.

But I never forgot the time when there was someone who I loved in my life. Who made me feel golden and beautiful and confused and happy and sad and everything that makes humans, human. Everything that makes a Slayer, a Slayer.

“We should go,” I say quietly and he nods, taking my hand.

~~~

It's under the post office. What a weird place for important message bringers to be. Or…maybe not. They're like the mail service for the Powers, I guess. My stomach rumbles as I smell Angel but I ignore it. No more hunger anymore. I refuse to feel it.

Angel throws something in the large clay pot before the white stone door and says, “We beseech access to the knowing ones.”

The rocks and powder ignite and suddenly there is a lighted doorway. “Angel…” I murmur and he takes my fingers and squeezes them.

We walk in and I feel disoriented because we stand in a long hallway. White, white, white marble veiny with streaks of grey, the light in the distance shimmering just out of reach. Two figures appear before us and I immediately feel as if I should bow. Their powerful presence is palpable in the air and I'm over whelmed.

“You have summoned us, lower beings,” says the female. Her robes are silver and so is her skin. She is beautiful, like a Greek Goddess. Sister, I think and stand taller.

Angel nods. “We have.”

The male sneers. He is strange looking. Gold and silver. His robes are blue, and wrapped like a tunic. “What have you brought us?”

Angel opens his palm and I see a bejewelled knife and a ring. “For the two of you,” he says lightly and the Oracles extend their hands, the objects snapped up instantly in a beam of light and magic.

“Pretty,” the woman smiles and walks towards us, her feet almost bobbing through the air. “What do you wish to know?”

“You know,” Angel replies. “What has happened to Buffy?”

The man almost smirks and cocks his head. “You must tell us, warrior. It is you who has done this to her.”

“Hush brother,” the female admonishes. “Warrior and Slayer. A most powerful combination. We will tell you what you need to know. When you drank the Slayer, and she drank you, you stopped too soon. Therefore she is caught between the two worlds. Living and dead. She retains her soul and does not have the vampiric visage. However there is deep hunger in her…and her heart no longer beats.”

“Oh God…” Angel breathes and bows his head slightly. “What do I do?”

“You have two options,” the male says calmly. “We can leave her this way. She will remain by your side forever. As long as you live, so will she, for she is dependent on you, and feels a deep bond to you. Or we can restore her to human form, just as she was before. But with a difference.”

“What difference?” Angel inquires sharply.

The female looks sadly at me and I swear I see a tear glisten on her cheek. Or is it sadness? Happiness…romantiscm? “You will be joined forever. Through these blood ties your souls will be intertwined. It will be painful for you to be apart for long. A week will make you both feel…” she pauses as if searching for the right word, “ill. Mortally sick.”

I see my lover stare at her as if she's grown a second head. It almost makes me laugh. I haven't let what she said sunk in yet. It sounds too weird. Like science fiction. “So I have tied her to me forever,” he says blankly.

“Yes,” the Oracles respond in unison.

“What about… what about when she dies?”

They look at each other swiftly and say, “You will die to.”

That makes my ribs hurt. And my eyes sting. I don't want Angel to die because of me. I don't want to cause him pain. This is wrong. Why is this happening? I feel myself wither a little more. This room is starting to make my head ache. White, white, white everywhere.

“Why did her neck start to bleed at this time?” he inquires flatly.

The female touches her forehead lightly and responds, “It was the Powers that Be who started that. They feel responsible which is the only reason they are willing to even do this much for you, Warriors. You, Warrior Angelus, were on the edge. The Auguries felt the need to step in. They also knew the Slayer was deeply affected by the death of her mother. You two have always been powerful together and it was time to bring that into being again.”

“More powerful together?” my sire repeats.

I look around, my eyes watering and dripping. The room is spinning. Does anyone else notice? I think I'm hungry. Angel's skin smells like my hunger. “Together we are strong…” I inform him woozily. “Alone we're dead.”

He glances down at me and the Oracles smile. “The Slayer is correct. But she is getting weak. You must make your decision now, Warrior.”

“Make her human,” he says. “Buffy? That's what you want…”

I don't know what I want. But I know Dawn needs me and I know my Mommy made me promise so I nod. “Yes.”

Together the two gold and silver figures begin to chant. They touch me and smooth my skin with their cool as glass fingers and murmur incantations. Suddenly my chest hurts and I realize I have to breathe. Collapsing against Angel, take ragged breaths and wheeze slightly.

“It is done. Go now.”

Angel doesn't fight their command. He picks me up and walks from the lighted chamber to the bleak darkness below the post office. It is gloomy and the slight flecks of fire in the clay pot glow like dying ash. I'm warm. It feels strange and good. I'm not hungry anymore. I don't like that.

“I have to go home. My Mom's… funeral is tomorrow,” I tell him softly and he leans down, brushing a kiss on my brow.

“I'll go with you.”

“I know,” I breathe quietly and lean against him momentarily. He holds me and we just stand there, in the darkness for a long time.

Rain streaks my face. I stare up at the clouds as the sky opens up. It turned slate grey a few seconds ago, just as the funeral began. The sun was chased away and now it rains.

We're burying my mother near Jenny Calendar. I found that fitting somehow. Fresh earth is dug up around the white coffin. My head hurts. So does my face. I haven't relaxed it all day. I have Dawn in my arms. She smells good and I breathe her hair. Fresh, like flowers. Like the flowers at the gravestone. In my hand is a yellow rose. Mommy liked yellow roses.

Willow looks pale and her eyes are so red they look like they're bleeding. Xander and Tara hold her hands, and I'm grateful because I can't comfort anyone but my sister right now. Giles has his hand on Xander's back, giving him strength.

My Mommy is lying in that coffin in front of me. I can't see her, but she's there. I have this fantasy that her spirit is with us right now… touching my hair, holding Dawnie. She's here. She's dead, but she's here.

It's a stupid dream. She's cold and she's alone and they're going to put mud over her and make it so we never see her again.

His arms go around me suddenly and I lean back gratefully. I knew he would come if the sun went in. His hands hold Dawn as well and she murmurs, her small fingers going over his and squeezing the silver rings adorning his thumbs. It makes my throat throb as I see their hands entwined. Tears rush down my face finally. They burn and sting my neck but I don't brush them away because they're distracting me and I like it. Angel kisses the top of my wet head and rubs his cheek against mine. I burrow closer to him and stare at the priest. He is speaking solemnly about ashes and dust and valleys of death.

(… “as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death”
“you wanna walk a little faster through that valley, Mister?”

That was mean of Jack to say that…poor man.

Oh c'mon…Mom, Jack and Rose have to get to the top of the ship. What are they gonna do…wait for the guy to finish his prayers?

He's a scared man… Jack could be a little nicer. Besides Buffy, you're only saying that because you think Leonardo DiCaprio is… what's the word you used? Oh yes…a hottie.

(I laugh and wiggle my nose) He is yummy, but that's not why I'm saying that. God…Rose looks beautiful. Even with that drowned rat look.

She does. It's really not fair.

Definitely not. This is so sad… I can't stand it.

Listen to that music…haunting.

Haunting…)

Dawn sobs a little, and I feel scared at the sounds she's making. The priest ends as he closes the heavy bible with a snap. Nodding to us, he motions for us to come forward. Angel steps back as my sister and I take tentative steps towards our fallen mother. My feet sink into the soggy grass, and it makes sucking noises. Leaning down, I touch the coffin with shaking fingers and whisper.

“I love you Mommy.”

I can't say Goodbye. My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. I won't say it. Dawn trembles as she kisses the top of it and touches it briefly. “Mommy…” she murmurs but doesn't say anything more. With care, I lay the rose down and she does to and its over.

I wish there was more I could do. There feels like there should be more. I should be falling to my knees and screaming at the Gods to give her back to me. I should be wailing. I think I should be falling apart. I wring my hands and watch with hollow eyes as they begin to shovel dirt onto my mother. People drift away as they tend to do at funerals. A few brush by me and say something but the roaring in my ears is too loud for me to hear them. I watch the steady motion of the dirt and wet mud… like clockwork it covers the smooth white top of the coffin and fills the spaces around it. Over and over… brown earth chokes her and takes away her breath… no, she can't breathe… no, stop…

Arms hold me and pull me back and I realize I'm screaming. Turning into his embrace, I bury my swollen face against the cool fabric of his duster. “Angel…nooo… I want Mommy…” I garbly beg him but he just smoothes my neck and shaking back and kisses my forehead.

“Nooo…please Angel…”

Doesn't he understand me? Wasn't he always the one that made it all better? That chased all the demons away…that fixed me? I can't stand this. Ragged tearing pain clamps down onto my belly and I double over.

She's gone. Isn't she? My Mommy… she isn't coming back. That's her being buried. Just her.

And me, I think. That's me being buried to. Just me. She birthed me. She made me and now she's dead. So I'm in there to. My Mommy's dead and they're covering her with dirt.

~~~

We walk. His hand holds mine and the rain still flows over us. The greedy grass is trying to swallow me but Angel won't let it. Mud streaks my bare legs and I want to fall down and let it drown me.

“Thanks for being here,” I murmur to my love and he looks down at me, his pale face beautiful.

“Don't say thank you. I'll always be here when you need me,” he whispers and stops, drawing me close.

I breathe in relief because it hurts to be away from him. I realize now that what the Oracles said was true. Our souls and our blood… we're connected. Looking up at him, I touch his cheek lightly. “What are we going to do?”

He knows what I'm talking about. Sometimes I think he can read my mind now. “I'll come down on weekends…and during the week when I can,” he says huskily and brushes a lock of hair out of my red eyes. With a slight sound of grief, his mouth touches mine and it almost hurts. He's shaking and so am I and his teeth knock into my bottom lip. It feels so good. I start to cry because I love him and it's crushing me and press closer, my mouth hungrily kissing him.

“Angel…” I sob, the words catching in my scratched throat. “I love you…”

“I love you,” he murmurs back and kisses my cheeks and my eyelids, his tongue rasping against my tears. “If you want…I mean…I thought I could stay with you and Dawn for a week or two, to help out…”

I hug him so close I'm sure his ribs would snap if he was a human. “Yes.” I say simply. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” he answers softly.

He holds me as the rain continues to fall.

end.

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