Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Stephenie Meyer. The original plot is the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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This was my contribution to the compilation for the Fandom for Texas Wildfire Relief. Since I am a true wordy bitch, this story had to be broken down into chapters because it was just too long of a one-shot.
I hope you will enjoy this story!
Beta team: Ajr818, Lacrimosa Moon, and JaspersDestiny from Sparkly Red Pen.
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer"/"Bones" crossover. AU.
Angel's death in yet another averted apocalypse is the final blow for Buffy. She moves to Washington, DC, where she tries to find a way to survive without the other half of her soul. Two months later, a serial killer on the loose brings her face to face with FBI Special Agent Booth, a man that could be Angel's twin brother, but he doesn't seem to know who she is. Never stop believing in soul mates, even if you have to wait till death brings you together.
"Buffy? What are you doing here?" Angel was shocked to see her on his doorstep, after not speaking to her for almost a year.
"Saving the world," she answered with a smile. It was a cold, hesitant smile. She wasn't sure how he would take her appearance. "Heard you were facing an apocalypse, and you know me—I can't back down from a challenge."
That was the Buffy he knew—and loved. Always loved... That was something he had learned would never change. He knew that he should never have left her; knew that he should have taken the chance they had to be together when it had been offered to him. He knew that he should have been stronger, should have been more confident in both his and her feelings, but it was too late now. He would just have to settle for embracing each day, each moment, spent with her as it came.
He smiled at her. "I'm glad that you are here."
"So...where can I drop my bags, and how soon can you fill me in on all the details?"
"You can use the room adjoined to mine. It's one of the only few that is livable in this hotel," he said quietly, almost embarrassed to admit how little he had invested in the restoration of the building. "That is, if you don't mind us being this close. I mean, um...the adjoining door can be locked." He was stunned to realize that he was stammering. What was wrong with him? Had he really grown so uncertain of her?
"I don't mind, Angel."
She let the overnight bag she was carrying drop to the floor and walked confidently toward him. When she was standing as close as she could without actually touching him, she paused and looked up at him.
"Can I give you a hug?" she asked in a whisper.
His arms wrapped around her even before his lips could murmur, "Of course."
It felt so good to hold her, basking in her scent and her warmth. Sometimes, when he held her tight, he could swear he felt his own heart beginning to beat. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in deeply.
"I've missed you," she whispered.
"I've missed you, too," he answered.
They both knew and heard the words that neither one of them spoke aloud.
I love you.
I need you.
I want you.
He took her to her room, the one that was just one door away from his, and tried to quiet down his inner desires. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to caress her. He wanted to taste her in every way possible.
She saw the desire in his brown eyes and felt heat spread through her body. She had been so cold in the past year since she had last seen him, since she had last touched him. They rarely spoke, and Angel still hadn't overcome his aversion to technology, so there had been no emails exchanged between the two either.
They looked at each other for several long moments, just taking in each other's presence, and in the next heartbeat, they were locked in a desperate embrace, both aware that the world might very well end in less than a week. Neither wanted to waste what was probably their last chance to be together.
Their clothes almost fell off of their bodies of their own accord. Neither remembered undressing their partner, but as soon as their skin touched, they could not care less about it. Angel pulled her toward his room, his bed, all the while never breaking the kiss. No one kissed like Buffy. She put in all of her passionate nature, all of her hunger and lust, into the kiss. He moaned into her mouth as she caressed his tongue with hers, and he didn't suppress his growl when she buried her fingers in his hair.
He was cold, especially against her overheated skin. She could feel her breasts growing painfully aroused as she pressed herself against his cold chest. Their movements were desperate, and it reminded her of the one night of passion she had been gifted with—the night of her seventeenth birthday. However, unlike that night, this time she was more confident, more familiar with both his body and hers. She took as much as she gave, and she didn't even think about hiding how good he made her feel.
Angel lowered his head to her neck, nuzzling in the soft skin of her throat and licking just above her pulse. Her heart was beating frantically fast, and as she arched upwards, he could not hold his demon inside him. He was no longer ashamed of his demon; he no longer feared that she would reject him in his true face.
His name on her lips was no more than a sigh, a breath, but it was everything to him. He had cherished every moment he had ever had with her in his arms, and this night was no different. He forced himself away from the temptation of her throat and gave in to the temptation of her full breasts, suckling on each breast gently at first, and then more eagerly, before taking almost an entire globe into his mouth.
"That feels so...oh, God, Angel, right there...so good," she moaned, holding him tightly against her and scraping his scalp slightly.
His mouth could always work magic on her body. Before their first and only night together, they had experimented, and she had learned that the vampire she loved was very gifted with both his mouth and his hands. Those very hands were now traveling down her body, caressing her sides and hitching her legs up, his long fingers teasing her every spot.
She loved everything he did to her, loved how he could play her like a fine-tuned violin played by the world's most talented musician. Every pass of his tongue on her skin, every touch of his fingers, every press of his body was like a symphony played on her body, and that symphony was accompanied by their moans, by her whimpering, by his growling.
I love you. He spoke to her in his touches, silently asking her to say the same.
I love you. She answered him with her entire body arching, her head rolling to the side, offering him complete submission, pleading him for complete dominance.
"I want to taste you so much," he murmured, kissing his way up to the neck that she was so freely offering him, "but I can't wait any longer. I need to be inside you."
"Yes," she whispered. "I want you." She wrapped her legs around him, pushing him to join their bodies. "I need you."
He could never truly refuse her, not when this was something he wanted more than he wanted to see the sun rise the next morning. In one swift move, he entered her, sheathing himself in her heat and groaning her name.
"Angel," she breathed.
It felt so good to have him inside her, filling the emptiness that had been a part of her life for every single moment since the day he had walked away from her.
"I love you," he whispered as he began to rock between her parted thighs. "I love you so much."
His mouth sought hers, and he drank every sound that escaped her lips—both her whimpers and her moans.
Moving in a dance as old as time itself, the two lovers forgot about everything around them. The world might end soon, but at that moment, Angel and Buffy were in the only place where either one had ever felt happy and complete—in each other's embrace.
Hours passed, but they did not want to stop. The prospect of losing each other was enough to keep Angel's soul bound in his body, and for the time being, his demon was content with being joined with its mate, not caring about taking control of his body.
Angel knelt behind Buffy, his arms holding her upright and flush against him, while his hips moved to fill her with his body over and over again. Her head lulled on his shoulder, her throat exposed to him as she voiced her pleasure with moans and whimpers. He raised one hand to cup her breast and tugged lightly at its hardened peak. The other hand dipped lower, moving across the plains of her stomach to the moist curls that protected her sex, and he began rubbing her just above the place where they connected.
"Oh, my...Angel!" Buffy screamed, as the added pressure of his fingers served to bring her so much closer to heaven.
She was panting, barely aware of the constant litany of his name on her lips. Her entire being was too focused on her lover moving inside her, bringing pleasure to her body.
"Yes, my love," he whispered, enjoying the sound of his name coming from her in short breaths. He was getting close to what would be his third or fourth release that night, and he wanted to take her with him one more time before he let her sleep. "Come for me, my love. I want to feel your muscles tighten around my hard cock."
Buffy placed her hands over his, encouraging both the tugs on her nipples and the sweet madness that was the movement of his fingers between her folds. The crude words were just as much of a turn on as his thrusting inside her. Dirty talking Angel was something that she had only been exposed to on those very rare occasions when he had allowed himself to let go before they consummated their bond, and that had been much too long ago.
"I love feeling your cock fill me," she said with a trace of a smirk.
She arched her back slightly, pushing her breast into his hands and her pelvis harder against him.
His answering growl caused her to smile again.
"Being with you is the best feeling in the world," she whispered. "I never want to leave, never want us to stop."
"I don't ever want to let you go," he answered in a hoarse whisper.
Threading their fingers together, he moved them up and down, feeling himself entering her body. His mouth found her neck again, as well as the mark he had left there so long ago—the mark that told every other vampire in the world that she belonged to him, forever.
Buffy felt his face shift, and she leaned her head further to the side, offering herself to him completely. The movement of their fingers between her legs, the combined pleasure of his hand and hers on her breast, and the anticipation that was rising as he nibbled on the most sensitive part of her neck—his mark—nearly drove her crazy.
"Please," she begged.
He didn't argue. He wanted to taste her. He thought that he probably should have argued, resisted, but he didn't. His demon wanted to lay claim on his mate once again, and everything inside him screamed at him to take what she was offering. At any other time, he would have resisted, but the knowledge that this might be their last chance, his last chance, rendered him without the will to deny himself.
"I love you," he whispered. You're mine, his demon added in his thoughts.
"I love you," she answered. "I'm yours. Forever."
With another deep thrust, one that would have been painful to any human but the Slayer, he sank his fangs into her neck, over the previous mark, and felt his world explode.
"Angel," she groaned as she felt him enter her in a way that only he ever had—in a way only he was ever allowed to—and her body fell over the precipice that she had been teetering on for the past several minutes.
He held her in a tight hug, her back against his chest, his body still buried inside her. He drank slowly, savoring every drop of her essence. He only ever came this strong when he was with her—and when her blood was added, he could have sworn he was seeing the gods themselves before his eyes. He felt her inner muscles tighten around him with every pull of his mouth at her neck. He felt her shiver in desire, and he basked in the wonderful sounds of her pleasure. If there was heaven for a creature of the night, it was in the arms of its lover.
At some point during the night, they finally succumbed to sleep. Curled together between the silken sheets of his bed, they didn't part even in their slumber.
And they dreamed.
On previous nights that they had spent together, they had often shared dreams, but tonight was different. The Powers That Be seemed to have taken mercy on the Slayer, allowing her peaceful dreams. Their Souled Champion, however, was not so lucky. Angel's dream could have easily been considered a nightmare, but it felt too real to be anything but a prophetic warning.
He woke up with a start shortly before dawn, panting and sweating. Had his heart been capable of beating, it would have been racing inside his chest. The world would not end in this apocalypse. Los Angeles would lie in ruins at the end of the battle, but the rest of the world would be none the wiser. The price would be one of the champions' lives, and it was his choice which one it would be. It was cruel, leaving the decision in his hands, but when had the Powers been kind to him?
For Angel, there was no real choice. He would gladly sacrifice himself for her. He had done so in the past, and he would do it yet again. It would not be easy, but this time the price—Buffy's life—was one that he could not afford to pay. He could die in peace, knowing that she continued on living. Her duties would not be a burden; Willow's spell that had activated all of the potential Slayers in the world took care of that last year. More so, Buffy would have her friends to comfort her; she would not be alone
He wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something, to break something, to kill something—anything that might provide an outlet for the rage that was building inside of him. He wanted something that would ease the pain spreading through every cell in his body. He knew that he could easily find it outside in the streets, but he had no desire to shorten what was already not enough time with the other half of his soul, so he curled up closer to the only woman he had ever loved in his long life and committed everything about her to his memory.
Once, she had told him that death was her gift. Now, it was his turn to give her the gift of life.
"What do you mean you want me to leave?" she asked, stunned and hurt at his words.
"Buffy, do you remember what you told me when I came to see you a year ago?" He took her hand in his, looking into her pain-filled eyes.
"A second front," she whispered.
"Yes, a second front." He pulled her in for a hug, unable to maintain the distance between them, and she melted into his embrace, trying to hold in the coming tears. "You are the only one that I trust to have the strength...If I failed—" His voice cracked, and he feared he might not be strong enough to continue. After a long pause, he spoke again. "If I failed, you would be the only hope for this world."
"I hate this," she murmured into his chest, clutching the back of his shirt in her fists. "I hate this so much."
"I know." He held her in his arms, caressing her back gently in soothing, long passes. It was easier this way, not looking in her eyes, not giving her the chance to see the lie in his own.
Buffy stayed for several hours longer, helping him with preparing the weapons. Never one for research, it was the least she could do, the most would have been fighting alongside him, but she understood his reasoning—it was the same one she had used when he had come to help her defeat The First. When there was nothing more she could do, Angel walked her to her car and gave her one last kiss goodbye.
Neither spoke as they parted, looking into each other's eyes instead.
I love you, they said to each other.
Stay safe, she pleaded with her gaze.
Goodbye. He could not say the word aloud, but he said it in his heart.
Buffy knew the very moment when Angel's soul left this world. She was in the middle of a telephone conversation with Willow when her entire body froze, her stomach turned, and the most agonizing feeling of loss took over. It was as though her own soul was being torn from her body.
"Angel..." she choked, gasping for air. Her hand dropped the phone at the same time as her knees gave way and she crumbled to the floor. "No...No, please...Angel!"
Tears rolling down her cheeks, she curled into a ball on the cold floor. She could hardly breathe, couldn't think, and when the darkness came, she welcomed it with open arms.
Thank you for reading,