Lighthouse

By Sabrina & E. Marshall

http://border-princess.net/btvs/lighthouse/index.htm

 

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not me. Or I mean, I don't own her or any of her friends or enemies, those all belong to Joss Whedon, that monster guy, and 20th Century Fox. I'm just borrowing them for a little entertainment. Jeff Tweedy and the other Wilco band members also do not belong to me. I assume, hope anyway, that they belong to themselves and would enjoy a romp in the Buffy-verse. Again, I'm just playing a bit to entertain myself and hopefully anyone else who enjoys Buffy.

 

Archive/Distribution: Please link to this site. 

 

Timeline: Fits in probably sometime early second season. Angel's still got his soul, everyone is still in high school. Specifically between Reptile Boy & Halloween.  

 

 

Epilogue

 

‘Your pillow wept

And covered your eyes

You finally slept

While the sun caught fire

You’ve changed.’

            -“A Shot in the Arm”

 

           

‘Um, guys,’ Ken had finally managed to wriggle out of the final scrap of Jeff’s clothing. ‘Guys... I’m really tired.’ he mumbled, dropping the little stretched-out sweatshirt to the floor.

           

A tinge of blue was seeping in through the cracks between the blinds. It was morning. At last.

           

‘Hey,’ Jeff mumbled, the comforter pulled up to his chin, ‘Is the moon gone?’

           

Jay was zoning out in his really uncomfortable chair, a nearly burnt out cigarette smoldering between his fingers. He reached over and peered behind the blinds. ‘Yeah, Jeff. The moon is gone. That bastard won’t be back for another twelve hours, at least.’

           

‘OK...’ said Jeff, ‘Good... we can all go to sleep now.’

           

‘Thank God...’ Jay muttered.

           

John, who had been sitting cross-legged on the other bed, half asleep, staggered to his feet. Somehow, he was still smiling. He arranged the rumpled, twisted blankets on the sagging bed. ‘You heard him. The moon is gone. The you-know-whats are in their coffins. OK Ken, bring him over.’

           

Before Jay had a chance to protest, Ken had scooped him up in his arms, and dumped him on the bed.

           

‘Ow, watch it,’ Jay muttered, ‘I think I’ve sustained a significant injury...’

           

Ken then tumbled into the other side of the bed.

           

‘What the hell? I’m not sleeping by you...’ Jay was trailing off, ‘Damn blanket hog... damn drummer... probably haven’t stopped wetting the bed...’

           

Jay Bennett was snoring loudly. Approximately two seconds later, Ken was also snoring fit to wake the dead.

           

John sighed with relief, quietly taking one pillow and one blanket from Jeff’s fortress. ‘Jeff, you doing alright?’

           

Jeff didn’t answer. He was finally sleeping. He looked very peaceful. And he was not snoring.   

 

John grinned and plopped down on the floor, between the two beds.

           

‘Goodnight, ya’ll,’ he whispered.

           

He was soon fast asleep.

 

 

 

'Spike was turned shortly before I was cursed,' Angel spoke softly. 'We were all in the same gang, you could say: him, I, a few others. After I was cursed, I tried to stay for a while, until I just couldn't. I couldn't live with the killing...'

           

'And then?'

           

Angel raised his eyebrows, 'I don't remember specifically. I wandered a lot. I didn't have much purpose. I didn't belong to the world of the night anymore, but I couldn't live in the light.'

           

'Of course,' Buffy murmured.

           

Angel was seated on her windowsill, looking out the open window and off into the sky: into the very beginning of dawn. Buffy pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and examined her socks: grey ones with little pink pigs.

           

Angel watched her, his mind spinning. There was so much she couldn't know about him. So much that he knew she couldn't handle, and shouldn't have to. And he wanted to protect her from that, keep her from learning the darker secrets of his past, keep her safely on the side of the light. He ached to take her in his arms and let her breathe life into him again—if only for a moment.

           

'Angel?'

           

He lifted his eyes to her face and waited.

           

'The night can be beautiful too.'

           

He felt a pang of guilt even as a wave of joy rushed through his body---joy that she wanted him to feel at ease, and, more than that, joy that she found the night beautiful. And yet guilt that he should make the night beautiful to her when she should be aware of its dangers: its deceptions: its seduction.

           

Seduction.

           

'No, Buffy,' he shook his head. 'There's nothing beautiful about darkness.'

           

'When I was little, four or five, and I would get scared of the dark, my mom would come into my room and take me to my window, and point up at all of the stars. And she'd tell me that there was an angel watching me, keeping me safe. And that everywhere there was a star, there was an angel watching somebody. And one of those stars was mine.'

 

She looked up at him. 'And I'd go to sleep, and in the morning when I woke up, the stars were gone.'

 

She looked straight into his eyes. 'You can't see stars in the daylight, Angel. And the stars are beautiful.'

           

Angel swallowed. He looked out the window, and was silent for a moment.

 

'It's almost sunrise. I need to go.'

           

Buffy nodded.

           

'I'll see you tomorrow night then?'

           

'Coffee, at the Bronze,' Buffy smiled.

           

Angel stood and looked down at her. She hadn't moved. She sat Indian style on her bed, and she looked up at him.

 

'Good night, Buffy.'

           

'Good night, Angel.'

           

He climbed out of the window and down the roof. At the edge of the roof, he stepped over a small space of empty air, and into the branches of a large oak tree.  

           

Buffy jumped to her feet and moved to the window. She could see Venus shining beyond the branches of the tree, but the other stars were disappearing into the dawn’s periwinkle light. Angel was already out of sight. She sighed and shut her window, latching the frame, and turning back to her bed.

           

It would be daylight soon---it was already morning---and she would go to school, and see her friends, and train with Giles, and have dinner with her Mother in a whirling blaze of the side of her life that was light and normality.

 

And when sunset fell, she would walk through the dark, engulfed in the night, but protected by her star: cold and full of light.

 

‘I love you.’ She whispered.

 

 

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