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THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE
(A Summoning of Shadows)
by Yseult deBreton
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Sometimes silence can be deafening.
TIMELINE: Alternate scenes during "Hush".
AUTHOR’S NOTE (1): Feeling the need to write some B/A
non-fluff. Buffy’s thoughts are in italics. Thanks to David for the
pertinent comments. It’s a much better story.
AUTHOR'S NOTE (2): Part of A Summoning of Shadows series.
DATE OF COMPLETION: 12 August 2003
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, Yseult’s Passion
(http://yseultspassion.com), my permission.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not mine. Not mine. Not mine. (ad
nauseum)
FEEDBACK: I’m starving here. Send it to yseultdb@yahoo.com
As soon as Cordelia told Angel about the mysterious laryngitis,
questionable flu vaccines, and the CDC quarantine, he formed a simple plan:
get into Sunnydale. He attempted to call Giles but telephone service to the
town was inexplicably unavailable. That disturbing information merely
fueled his anxiety. Cordelia’s too. She begged him to take her, but Angel
flatly refused. They had just lost Doyle. Whatever was happening in
Sunnydale was a mystery. He wasn’t about to risk Cordelia’s life. Angel
paced like a caged animal until it was dark enough to leave, then drove
like a man possessed
The National Guard had created a brightly-lit perimeter around the
town. Angel left his car on the outskirts of Sunnydale and entered via a
sewer tunnel. Sometime after crossing the town’s boundaries, he lost his
voice. For several minutes, Angel debated whether he should retrace his
steps and try to pinpoint when (and where) his voice disappeared.
Ultimately he decided against this. If it was important, he could always
return. When he emerged from the subterranean tunnels, Angel proceeded
directly to Giles’ apartment where the ex-Watcher provided the scant
details he knew. It was more a pantomime than a conversation. However, the
necessary information was conveyed, and a partial strategy was formulated.
Angel’s immediate mission was to quell whatever disruptive violence
he found. Downtown Sunnydale resembled a war-torn city. Cars and garbage
cans burned freely. Stores were either boarded over or vandalized. Broken
glass formed a sparse carpet on the streets. There didn’t appear to be any
police or military presence. It was as if the world had abandoned Sunnydale
and its citizens to live or die solely on their ability to defend
themselves. Angel was unsurprised by the mayhem, the looting, and the
wanton destruction of property. He had seen this kind of behaviour all over
Europe as wars or natural disasters overwhelmed the populace. There was
always someone willing to take advantage of the resulting chaos. He knew
that Angelus would relish this banquet of misery. It was an opportune
situation for evil, depravity, and wickedness.
As he moved through the semi-deserted streets, he was thankful that
Giles had outlined where Buffy was patrolling. With luck, Angel wouldn’t
run into her and have to explain what he was doing in "her" town
again. He knew it was cowardly, but he was hoping Giles would provide the
explanation. Angel didn’t think he could stand to see Buffy again. Not
after everything that had happened Thanksgiving weekend.
Then he turned a corner and saw her hugging Riley Finn.
*****
As soon as Riley released Buffy, she felt the familiar tingle that
was her personal vampire alert system. However, she was so relieved to see
him unharmed, she ignored it. Vampires can damn well wait a minute.
He was safe, he was here, he was hugging her. When Riley kissed her, she
responded with equal fervour. This kiss had been building for weeks. Still,
Buffy was surprised to discover that her heart wasn't madly racing when it
ended. After they parted, her vampire alarm continued to clang incessantly.
Back to work. She turned her gaze to the left and scanned the
burning streetscape. Nothing there. Her eyes swept to the right
and found Angel.
*****
It hurt. More than he thought it would. He could handle Riley kissing
Buffy. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t too bad. It was the part where
Buffy was kissing Riley that he was having trouble with. Angel’s feet froze
in place. He stared -- dumbfounded -- as the couple kissed. Because he
knew, with certainty, that the last person Buffy had kissed like that was
him.
*****
It can’t be Angel. Buffy closed her eyes and
prayed that, when she opened them, he wouldn’t be standing there with that
devastated expression still stamped on his features. She willed her eyes to
open and glimpsed the swirl of Angel’s coat as he turned and hurried away.
"Angel, wait," she called mutely. Right. No voice. What’s
he doing here? Oh god, did he see me kiss Riley? Of course he did. That's
why he's going in the other direction. But… it’s what he wanted.
It’s why he left. Except Buffy didn’t want to hurt him like this. She
ran after Angel and grabbed his arm. He pulled out of her grip and
continued to stride away from her. She tried to walk beside him. Angel sped
up and changed direction. Finally Buffy stood in front of him and waited
for him to halt, collide, or veer away again.
Angel stopped and stared defiantly at the space above her head. She
saw the muscles in his jaw pulse. If she hadn’t been standing so close to
him, she would have missed the glimmer of tears. Oh, Angel. Her
hand reached to gently cup his jaw. Angel closed his eyes but didn’t lean
into her touch as he once did. Buffy felt the tears slide over the back of
her hand. I’m so sorry.
*****
He should not be here. Angel told his feet to move, told his eyes
not to cry, told his heart not to break , but his body wasn’t listening.
When Buffy touched his cheek, he forced himself not to move instead of
folding her into his arms as his heart demanded. He reminded himself that
he had no right to her. He had no reason to touch her. This was just Buffy
being nice.
Angel closed his eyes. He could smell her: her shampoo, lotion,
soap, the faint trace of Riley’s saliva. He could smell her, and she
smelled like that day and night in his apartment. Her scent was still on
the black silk shirt that he had refolded and buried in the bottom dresser
drawer. In his mind he saw her naked on his bed, laughing, loving, teasing,
tempting, making him remember why he loved her so much. One tear fell. Then
another. And another. He couldn’t stop.
*****
Don’t cry, Angel. It was only one kiss. Doesn’t mean I don’t love
you. Buffy slipped her other hand around Angel’s neck and
pulled his head down until his forehead rested on hers. She wiped the tears
from his face, but they kept coming. Angel, please. Please stop crying.
Please. By now, she was crying too. Angel wouldn’t let her comfort
him. She could feel his resistance. He refused to look at her. His fists
were tight knots of frustration. His jaw muscles continued to beat their
own painful tattoo.
Buffy did the only thing she could to break the stalemate: she
kissed him.
*****
When her lips brushed his, Angel tried to pull away, but Buffy's strength
held him in place. She moved her mouth over his again. He opened his lips
and let his tongue taste her. It was enough. His arms pulled her flush
against him and his mouth swallowed her whole. The kiss lasted forever and
was over in seconds. When he released her, Buffy was breathless. She gazed
at him and silently spoke his name.
*****
It was a question, as in "Angel, why are you here?" and
"Angel, should we be doing this? It was also a statement: "Angel,
I love you". Buffy wasn’t sure which one she meant at this moment. All
she knew was that Angel had kissed her, and it hadn’t felt anything like
Riley’s kiss. She still wanted to die when Angel kissed her. Nothing could
ever change that. Buffy reached for him again, and lost herself in the next
kiss. She pushed her hands past his leather coat and ran them up and down
his muscled back and chest. If Angel could inhale her, it wouldn’t be
enough. She could never get enough of him.
So what happens when he leaves again?
Buffy shoved the unbidden thought away. She would deal with that when it
happened. Right now, Angel was here and he was kissing her. He was kissing
her like he used to kiss her — before he became Angelus. She didn’t want him
to stop.
*****
Angel’s lips and tongue covered every part of Buffy’s face. They
skimmed over the pulse in her throat and lingered at the scar on her neck.
They tasted the sweet skin of her ears and eyelids. They drew intricate
designs on her cheeks and found refuge in her mouth. His hands ran
marathons over her body. He blocked out anything that was not Her: the
burning cars, the breaking glass, the fights. Everything else ceased to
exist. One hand unbuttoned her coat and slipped beneath her blouse. Within
seconds, it was gliding over her warm skin, circling the bare area between
her bra and pants. His hand dipped just below the waistband of her pants
and brushed the lacy edges of her thong.
Angel’s face dipped lower as he muzzled Buffy’s collarbone and the
exposed skin above her breasts. His hand cupped her breast and squeezed her
forbidden flesh before he recalled that they were still standing on a
downtown Sunnydale street. He skillfully maneuvered Buffy so his larger
body was shielding her while he redid the buttons of her coat. Angel
glanced at her face. A questioning look had replaced the rapture and
contentment she’d worn seconds ago. He kissed her again, a deep needy kiss
that conveyed his lust. Then he nodded at the street and general mayhem. At
first, Buffy didn’t understand what he was doing. The minute she did, she
blushed and looked away in embarrassment. He slid his hand into hers and
tugged gently. They would patrol, then return to Giles.
*****
That night a UC Sunnydale student and a teenaged girl were murdered
in their beds and their hearts were removed. The following morning Olivia
sketched a drawing of one of the "men" she’d seen floating past
the window the previous night. Giles connected the dots between the
reported murders and the ghastly illustration and realized that Sunnydale
was caught in the midst of a nightmarish fairy tale. In an empty lecture
hall, Giles presented his theory to Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Anya and
parceled out assignments.
In the afternoon Giles updated Angel on the Gentlemen and their
objectives. The ex-Watcher brought Olivia's sketch and did a modified
version of the classroom presentation (without the music) in the mansion’s
great room. Buffy accompanied him. Together they poured over a map of
Sunnydale and tried to identify patterns to the collection of hearts.
Lastly, they decided on a plan for that night’s patrol. When Giles left,
Buffy stayed at the mansion.
From behind her cup, she watched Angel straighten the room and
stoke the fire. When he was done, he sat on the opposite end of the couch
and stared at his hands. Buffy placed her cup on the table, walked to the
fire, and crouched before it. Okay, this is awkward. Last night
had seemed like a dream including the part where Angel had kissed her good
night in front of her dorm. However, this morning when she’d awoken, her
lips were still swollen and sore from Angel’s attention. That part was
definitely real. Willow had subtly asked if it was Riley’s handiwork. Buffy
had nodded "yes" then "no". Her best friend had arched
her eyebrows and looked pointedly at her until Buffy had finally admitted
it was Angel. Then Willow had written "What are you going to do?"
It was a question Buffy couldn’t answer then. Or now.
She heard a muffled noise as Angel rose from the couch, but she
didn’t acknowledge it. Buffy had been sure that they were going to spend
the rest of the day getting reacquainted. But Giles had been gone for 20
minutes, and Angel didn’t seem to be as willing as she was. Maybe he’s
changed his mind. Maybe he’s decided that we shouldn’t do this. Whatever
"this" is. The fire was making her hot; she needed to move.
Slowly she stood and stretched her cramped muscles. Angel’s arms hesitantly
circled her waist. When she relaxed into his embrace, Angel pulled her to his
chest and rubbed his groin against her body. He nuzzled her hair and neck
and nibbled her ear until she silently giggled. Buffy looked up into
Angel’s dark eyes. He wouldn’t do this if he was leaving. Angel
mouthed "I love you" before lightly kissing her lips.
They stood before the fire, slowly kissing and caressing, until
Angel’s hands found the buttons on Buffy’s blouse. This time there was no
reason to stop.
*****
They lay naked on the floor. Angel’s hands smoothed Buffy’s limbs.
His mouth left tortuous kisses that turned her into a virtual puddle. When
his lips reached her breasts, she gladly pulled his head to her aching
nipples. He murmured something against her skin, but there was no sound.
Her silent screams heralded her orgasms as Angel’s fingers and tongue
worked their magic on her body. When Buffy lay exhausted on the floor,
Angel rested his head on her belly and let his fingers twirl in the curly
hair at the apex of her thighs. It wasn’t how they had spent that forgotten
day (there was no ice cream, no heartbeat in his body, no shattered kitchen
table), but this was still unique for them. And, most importantly for
Angel, Buffy would remember.
*****
When she felt as if she could breathe again, Buffy rolled onto her
stomach and stared into the dying fire. Angel dozed beside her. Things had
suddenly happened. One minute they had been contentedly smiling at each
other; the next minute, Angel had somehow been hovering over Buffy, his
erection stroking deeper into her pliant body. She had come, hard and
furious like a wild untamed horse. Then she had looked knowingly into his
eyes, pressed her fingers into the firm flesh of his buttocks, and urged
him deeper and harder into her core. Angel had come too, in silent heaving
gasps, before he collapsed on Buffy. The force of his sobs had reverberated
through her body for long minutes. She had stroked his back until he
quieted. He had rolled off her, then away from her.
Buffy had pulled him back to her side and run her fingers through
his hair until he fell asleep. She waited until nightfall, but Angelus
never appeared. That was when she realized Angel’s demon wasn’t coming out.
Either Angel’s soul is fixed, or I’m not perfect happiness anymore.
The only way to know was to make love again. Buffy didn’t know if they
could afford to take that chance. What if she was wrong? What if Angel’s
soul wasn’t fixed and this time had been a fluke? Without a voice, Willow
couldn’t do the restoration spell. Buffy would have to kill Angel. On the
other hand, if his soul wasn’t permanent and he hadn’t had a moment of
perfect happiness with her, what did that say about her? The third
possibility, the one of Angel’s soul being fixed… that suggested that he’d
done it after leaving Sunnydale and never bothered to tell her. Buffy
didn’t much care for any of the possible realities.
She gazed at him. She loved Angel so much. These last hours hadn’t
changed that, but assuming that they found the Gentlemen tonight and she
regained her voice, where did that leave them? Why didn’t I just walk
away like I did in LA?
*****
The last person that Buffy expected to see in the clock tower was
Riley Finn. But there he was, fighting just as fiercely as she was. From
what she observed, Riley had some formal instruction in hand to hand combat.
His clothing suggested that he was part of the mysterious group of soldiers
that had neutered Spike. Clearly he was more than just a farm boy from
Iowa.
When Riley smashed the box, Buffy’s voice returned. Her
high-pitched scream effectively demolished the Gentleman. In the ensuing
silence, she and Riley stared at each other. Eventually he picked up his
discarded weapons and left without saying a word.
*****
Riley is one of those army guys. That’s all Buffy
could think as she walked back to Giles’ apartment. Well, that and Angel
and I made love. It was a toss up which was more important. She opened
the door and found Angel standing by Giles’ desk.
"Angel."
"Buffy." Angel spoke her name in that same heart-stopping
manner he’d always used.
"Buffy, there you are. I see you found the Gentlemen."
Giles’ questions and comments guided the conversation towards safe
territory. By the time they were finished, there were three hours left
before sunrise. Giles shepherded Buffy and Angel out of his home and tiredly
closed the door behind them.
"I’ll walk you back to your dorm," Angel offered.
They walked quietly hand in hand. Just before they reached
Stevenson Hall, Buffy halted.
"Angel, we need to… There’s something… About what happened at
the mansion…" Buffy didn’t know what to say next. She had been
thinking about it earlier, when she was still trying to track the
Gentlemen. She had worked it all out in her head. Now the words were
jumbled like pieces of a puzzle. She needed to start somewhere. "Are
you staying?"
Angel slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead.
"I have a business now. It won’t run by itself. Not with Cordelia, at
any rate." He smiled at the thought.
That was not the answer Buffy wanted. "So you’re going back to
LA." I’m not enough to make you stay. "Where Cordelia
is. And your friend, Doyle."
Angel looked at their twined hands. "Doyle is dead," he
said quietly.
Buffy hadn’t expected that. "I’m sorry."
"I think you would have liked him. He liked you." Angel
tilted her head so he could kiss her.
"Angel, wait." He paused. His lips hovered tantalizingly
above hers. "What about us? I mean, all those reasons you left,
they’re still there, aren’t they? All of them?"
Buffy waited for Angel’s denials. She heard only silence. Oh
god. That means his curse still has that loophole. And I didn’t make him
happy.
Angel kissed her. He suckled her lips as if they were her breasts.
His tongue massaged and stroked hers until she moaned. "Doesn’t mean I
don’t love you," he finally whispered. No, Buffy thought, it
means I can’t make you totally happy. I just suck at this sex thing.
She took two steps back from Angel. "I know that, Angel. I
know you never stopped loving me. But I can’t do this again."
"You can’t do what again?" Buffy caught the flash of fear
that crossed Angel’s eyes.
I can’t survive you leaving me again. I can’t wake up one day and
discover Angelus in my bed. I can’t kill you again. She
couldn’t tell him what she was thinking, so she said nothing. There was
really only one choice here.
Buffy gave him a last kiss, a feathery touch of warm lips against
his cool cheek. Then she stepped from his embrace and out of his reach.
"Go home, Angel," she said gently. "Go home and don’t come
back." With that, she turned and walked through the doors of Stevenson
Hall. When Buffy reached her room, she sat on her bed and watched him
linger in the shade of the trees until the sky turned pink.
Later that morning, when Willow awoke and asked about Angel,
Buffy’s reply was silence.
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