Phantom Pain

Part 1

Dark of night.  Figures scamper to and fro in the shadows, terrified of being discovered.  Afraid of…something.  Puddles from the last shower glimmer under the moon’s rays.  An old man, donning filthy, torn clothes, slumps against the damp cement wall, hugging his brown paper bag tighter.  I sit back in the blackness and allow it to engulf me.  Its frigid detachment feels comfortable.  I’ve lived here forever, it seems.  Hiding with the rest of them, isolating myself from those who touch the light.  Just as I am about to lose myself in the darkness, a light shines at the end of the alleyway.  It’s not a flashlight, or even a reflection off the wall.

I stare harder and harder at it until it begins to glow brighter.  The radiance stings my eyes, yet I can’t look away.  Soon, the light expands until it is surrounding me, embracing me with its warmth and acceptance.  The streets are bathed in this new luminance.  I can see everything from the potholes to the blades of grass that had forced their way up between the cracks in the sidewalk.

Just then, a figure emerges like an angel at St. Peter’s gates.  Her hair, a silky blonde blows around her face.  It’s a sight I’ve long been missing.  My Buffy.

She sees me and smiles brilliantly.  Her face never moves, but I hear her voice in my head.  So soft and sweet and sincere.  “I forgive you.  It’s all right.”  My heart soars.  But then she comes closer and takes me into her arms.  Our lips meet.  I caress her back, wanting more…

“Angel!  Wake up!”

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Cordelia roughly shoved Angel back and forth, screaming his name.  She had been trying to wake him for minutes now.  The new client wanted to meet the entire agency before he committed.  Angel’s reluctance to awaken struck a familiar cord in her.  The vampire acted this way, excessively sleeping, then being drained while awake, when Darla was haunting him.  Knowing she was still out there somewhere, pissed off and armed with her insane mother/granddaughter, was in no way comforting.  The situation was further complicated by the fact that Angel obviously had some sort of mental connection to her.  It was probably one of those vampire family/kin things.  Who knows if one day she will succeed in pulling him over to her side.

“So, Rip Van Winkle!  What was the dream about this time?”  Cordelia tried so hard to sound disinterested, but her anxiety and fear betrayed her.

He simply responded, “Buffy” as he stretched then reached for a pair of jeans.

“Oh.  Buffy.”

“It was just a dream, Cordy.”

“Yeah.  Well, get out of that bed and come meet the new client.”

She turned to leave but then looked back over her shoulder with a grin.  “Boss’s orders.”

To Be Continued (Yes, this was short, but you all keep begging me to post more.)