Part Eight "Beating The Odds"
***
//you walked into the room and the whole place stopped to notice//
Every time Angel walked into Gunn Investigations lately, he felt like he was under a microscope. All of the guys were like cats staring into a fish bowl and he was a floundering goldfish trying to figure out what all the staring was about. He arrived twenty minutes early for his meeting with Buffy and found the guys crowding around Spike who was giddy as hell over something. A hush fell over the room and forced hisses for silence erupted as Angel passed by.
He found Gunn buried in a case file, not paying attention to the ruckus, but Angel knew that the boss had to know what was going on. He leaned against the desk, his back to his friend so he could size up the crew and after a few moments the realization hit him.
"They're betting, aren't they?" Angel asked with a groan. Locker room talk was expected. He knew rumors would be flying about his newfound celibacy but he hated the idea of them betting on Buffy like that.
"Yep," Gunn said, flipping through glossy photos of recent carnage.
"You playing too?" Angel asked, sinking into the chair on the other side of the desk.
"Got $50 bucks on you, studly."
"Jesus," Angel grimaced, "You're a bunch of assholes."
"Oh come on, man," Gunn said, setting the file aside. It was nice to have a distraction because his usually steel stomach was doing flip flops, "You know damn well that if it wasn't you, you'd be in on the bet."
"But..." Angel protested, "It's Buffy. She's not just any ordinary girl. This is different..."
"Which is why money is passed around here like a crack house lately," Gunn grinned, "Relax. Everyone's being quiet when your wonderful ball of sunshine is around."
"If she finds out about this," Angel warned, "I can't believe you are cheapening my feelings for her by making ringside bets on our relationship."
"What you just said," Gunn said, standing up as Buffy walked through the door, "Is why they're doing it. You've gone completely crazy over this girl."
"Yeah," Angel said, smiling as he watched her hug and greet the men congregated around the room. From the moment she walked through the door, the men's room quality of the room died and it scene transformed into an adore Buffy session. They were a crowd of teddy bears, anxious to be next in line to soak in her warmth. Spike was the only one who didn't participate. He sat back and eyed her closely, leering at her curvy body in his normal manner. Unlike the rest of the men there, he didn't think Buffy was anything more than another beautiful woman. He couldn't wait until Angel fucked this up. He was going to be there to catch her when he broke her. He planned to screw her sorrow away, again and again.
Angel tried not be jealous as she chatted with them, kissing their cheeks and allowing herself to be pulled into overly generous embraces. After a minute or two, he moved around to the counter leaned against it, watching her and waiting for her to notice his presence. She finally broke away from the barrage of men and found her way into his arms. She seemed oblivious to their stares as she greeted him warmly, tilting her head up for a kiss. He obliged greedily, forgetting momentarily that they had an audience as he wrapped his arms around her petite body and met her lips.
"Hi baby," he said, kissing her one last time before letting her go just enough so she could look up at him but remain in his arms.
”Hi," she said, "How was your day?"
"Not bad," he said, "I think I might have to go to New York in a couple of weeks for an art expedition. There was a guy from a gallery there visiting during my first show. He's interested in keeping some of my pieces at his place but he wants me to go up there first."
"Wow," she said, grinning, "I'm so happy for you."
"Thanks," he said, "How was your day?"
"Well, the appointment this morning went well," she said, "and the rest of the day was okay, I guess. But-" she said, turning around and pressing her back against Angel's chest, her ass resting snugly against his groin in the most tantalizing way. She faced the guys as she spoke, addressing them rather than Angel, "Anya told me about the Buffy's sex life pool that's been going on here. I'm trying to decide how upset I am about that."
The guys stopped in shock, hovering between fight and flight. They were trapped between frustration and guilt. Buffy was not supposed to find out about it. Angry eyes turned on Spike, who sat in the corner, grinning again.
"What?" Spike said, "It's not like any of you are innocent here. Besides, you all are missing the fun in this situation."
"I just found out about it, love," Angel said, in a voice too low for the rest to hear. Just knowing about it for ten minutes was enough for him to feel guilty and they were his friends after all.
"I know, honey," she said, rubbing the arm wrapped around her waist, "I'm not mad...at you."
Buffy kissed his cheek before sauntering to the bathroom with her sports bag, "I'm going to change clothes. Maybe you guys can all bet on how long it'll take me!"
***
//you try to match wits
you try to hold me but i bust through
gonna make a break and take a fake//
Bet or no bet, Buffy Summers was determined to get Angel into her bed or his, but with sex this time. He explained the whole slowing down and taking it slow theory but she didn't want that. She realized that sex meant something different to him than it did to her. She understood that he had been with so many women that he thought sex would somehow make their love less if they hurried. Yep, she got all that, but she wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin again, wanted to know what all those other women felt when he was inside them. She wanted him to make love to her. She tried to explain the difference between making love and having sex and he seemed to get it but wouldn't budge. He wanted to wait and she was teetering on the edge of full blown sexual frustration.
She shivered as she undressed, remembering his hands on her body, his hot mouth on her skin. The way he touched her last night, the feel of his tongue and teeth between her thighs, it was perfect. More than perfect. Mind-blowing. She could hardly believe that after that he was able to keep himself from making love to her.
She wasn't sure how much this bet thing was going to push him toward her or away. She could only hope it was toward, as in closer, much, much closer. First things first, she thought as she pulled her hair up and looked in the mirror. Her weapon was in place and it nothing to do with sparring. She had chosen a skimpy sports bra and little shorts to wear for their workout. You know, cause it was important to be in clothes that didn't hinder you...from showing your boyfriend as much skin as possible.
"I thought you were putting on clothes," Angel gulped, suddenly feeling the need for a drink. Angel wasn't the only guy in the room who suddenly needed looser pants.
"What?" she asked, looking down in feigned confusion, "Do I look bad?"
"No," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the basement door where Gunn had an impressive gym area for his employees, "Bad is not the word I'd choose."
"What word would you choose?" she asked playfully as he shut the door behind them and thought about locking it. Unfortunately there was no lock to keep the guys out. He briefly thought about finding a chair to prop against the door to keep those assholes from the sudden need to work out he was sure they were having. He knew within minutes they all would be down there pretending to get in shape just so they could see her cavort around in that minuscule outfit. It was obscene and he wished for a window. There wasn't enough air down there.
"Naked," he choked, eyeing her body without shame.
"Angel," she said, waving off his comment, "Naked is when you don't have clothes on."
"You don't," he said, shucking his shirt and standing before her in black sweat pants. His muscular chest rippled before her as he made his way to the sparring area. She had to wonder if he was trying to help the situation or not when he looked so gorgeous there, bare chested and jealous. She laughed at his comments and they playfully moved around on the large blue mat on the floor for a few moments, dodging small kicks and swings, shifting into focus.
Angel had been impressed from the first lesson on her ability to learn so quickly. Her memory for intricate steps, punches, kicks and holds was fascinating. It took her half the time it had taken him to learn and for such a small person, there was a lot of power behind her movements. She knew her center of gravity and was able to focus all her strength into what she was attacking. In fact, there were a couple of times that he had to gasp in pain as she struck him.
Completely into each other, neither noticed about half the guys, including Spike and Gunn, making their way into the workout area. They washed with unabashed stares as she dodged his swings, using her smaller size to her advantage as she shifted out the way. Surprising Angel and the rest of the room, her body twisted into flight as her small leg flew up and contacted with his jaw, sending him to the mat, fast and hard.
"GOD *Damn!*" Gunn said as Angel's bulky frame crashed to the floor. Buffy rushed over and knelt at his side as he sat up and shook off the daze.
"I'm sorry!" Buffy said, rubbing his hand which was currently cupping the footprint on his face, "I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't think...Oh God, Angel, are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, smiling broadly as he pulled himself back to his feet.
"What? Why are you smiling like that?"
"Because Buffy," he said, "You took me down and hard, baby. I'm glad you can do that. I'm not sure where that came from, but I'm glad. Makes me feel like you're safer."
"I think she should spar with someone else," Gunn said, stepping forward. Angel gave him a deadly glare as he stepped onto the mat in challenge of the pretty blonde, "Don't look at me like that, Angel. If she only fights with you then she won't be used to other techniques and different movements, you know that."
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Angel said, shaking his head. What if something happened? Could he trust his friend to not hurt the woman he loved? He knew he could but still...
"Don't worry, Angel," Buffy said, placing a small hand on his chest and gently pushing him off of the mat, "I won't hurt your friend."
"Feisty," Gunn said with a grin, "I like that in a woman."
"Gunn," Angel growled from the sidelines in warning.
"Don't worry," Gunn said, circling her and moving into position, "I promise I'll be careful."
"If you hurt her..." Angel said, evenly and seriously.
"Angel!" Buffy admonished, stopping to turn and look at him. When she did, Gunn rushed forward, charging her. Angel's eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to warn her, but she heard him coming. She turned and sidestepped, parrying his blow with the expertise of a woman who had studied martial arts for years, not weeks. Gunn shifted back, recovering quickly and attacked again, not giving her much chance to gloat over the success of the move. The more she succeeded, the more he added strength and speed to his actions, seeing her as a real opponent.
Angel tensed on the sidelines, waiting for a moment when he would need to step in. Buffy swung and missed, countering with a kick that was blocked. Gunn grasped for the leg but she snapped back as Angel taught her, too quick for him. Turning, she moved under his swing and ducked, leaving a hard jab in his side, which surprised him and the onlookers. The girl was good.
Gunn turned and swung, expecting her not to be there, since every other time she wasn't. This time she was and his fist met her solar plexus, sending her flying back on the mat, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of her. Gunn dropped to his knees beside her as Angel roared, hurrying in from the sidelines. He punched his friend hard in the mouth forcing him on his back on the mat not far from where Buffy was trying to sit up.
"I'm fine," she gasped, "It wasn't his fault, I just lost my footing for a second."
"I'm sorry," Gunn said, "I wasn't trying to hurt her. Damn man, I think you almost broke my jaw."
"You deserved it," Angel said.
"You okay, Buff?" Gunn asked, looking over the girl who had suddenly turned pale.
"Yeah," she moaned, "But I think I'm done for the day."
***
//cause then you'll know the vertigo is gonna grow
‘cause it's so dangerous you'll have to sign a waiver//
"Are you sure you're okay?" Angel asked for the thousandth time as he walked her out to her car. "Course," she said, rubbing her chest and wincing slightly, "Think I'm gonna have a bruise though."
"Gunn's gonna have couple more," Angel said. She reached up and touched his face, looking into his eyes as she shook her head ‘no.'
"Don't," she said, "He's your friend and he wasn't trying to hurt me. You know that. Just calm down."
"Are you going to bed?" he asked, leaning against her car.
"Oh, I almost forgot," she said as she leaned in through the window and dug through her bag. Producing a shiny new silver key, she handed it to him, "Here."
"What's this?"
"It's a key to my apartment," she said with a smile, "I thought after you go have drinks with the guys you might want to stop by."
"If I don't drink too much I might. Thanks," he said, slipping the key onto his ring and then rubbing it between his fingers. He couldn't believe she had just given him a key to her apartment. He had never given anyone a key to his apartment. Well, no one except for Darla, but that was a long, long time ago. Seemed like that was another lifetime.
Angel watched, still smiling, as she pulled from the curb. He stood there as she drove off, seeing that Tommy was professionally discreet as he followed her, even though she was well aware she was being followed. When she reached the stoplight ahead, he furrowed his brow as she didn't stop at the stoplight. She rolled through without slowing down and he was already running toward the intersection as another car struck hers. Even over the sound of twisting metal and breaking glass, he could hear her screaming.
***
Part Nine "Flashing Lives"
***
pinch me, pinch me
cause i'm still asleep
please god, tell me that i'm still asleep
They say when you drown your life flashes before your eyes. Well, when Buffy's little car was struck in the center of that busy intersection, her life flashed before Angel's eyes. The parts he saw as he ran down the street, willing his legs to move faster, were the things he hadn't been able to see yet. It's funny, the things you think of in times of crisis. Angel wondered what mundane idiosyncracies he had yet to find out about his would be lover.
Later, he would wonder what those specific things were like what she bought when she went to the grocery store, what essential item she never left without. He wondered how she took her coffee, if she liked sugar in her tea, if she drank regular soda or diet. He puzzled why he never checked the stack of CDs that sat next to her stereo, indicating they were listened to most recently. He had been so busy trying not to love her that he hadn't been paying attention to the little things.
It's amazing, the amount of time that's left to thoughts, the ones that creep in between the panic and the disorder. It seemed like it happened quickly to onlookers, but Angel thought it was painfully prolonged. His feet moved so slowly, he was certain the asphalt was sinking beneath him. When he made it to the cars, the man who hit her was out of his vehicle, peering in the shattered driver's side window. Angel butted through the gathering crowd and shoved the man aside. He looked in, resting a hand on the crushed in door, seeing immediately what the man had been staring at. Her face was resting against the steering wheel and there was blood trickling in a stream down the side of her face, mixing with her blonde hair. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 as he jerked on the door handle.
He gave the operator a stream of words he hoped told her where he was and what was wrong as he tried to pry the door open. He slipped the phone in his pocket as he ran around to the other side to get in through the passenger side but Buffy had done exactly what he told her to do and locked all the doors. He banged his fists on the window, screaming. He punched in at the thick glass, feeling it crack, but it wasn't breaking nearly fast enough.
"Buffy!" he shouted, feeling a dull ache begin in his hands as he pounded relentlessly, "Please baby, please, wake up!"
She laid there, her pretty eyes closed to the world as her blood dripped over her eyelids, splashing on the steering wheel and rolling off onto her legs. Angel whirled around and saw the man standing there. He was in his late 50s, kind looking and a bit shaken by the incident. He couldn't tear his eyes from the car he had hit or from the lovely young girl who was not waking up. Angel stalked back around the car and pointed to the man's car.
"Open your trunk," Angel commanded.
"E-excuse me?" he asked.
"I need a crowbar or something to get this car open," Angel explained, "Now open your fucking trunk."
The man nodded, still confused and fished the keys from his pocket. He pressed a button and his trunk opened with a little thunk. Angel bent in, ripped away the covering on the bottom of the trunk and tossed his spare tire aside to get to the jack. He pulled out the metal bar attached and went back to Buffy's car. He heard sirens wailing in the background as he began striking the bar against her back passenger window. Paramedics screeched to the scene as the window broke enough for him to fit his arm through. He slammed little pieces of broken glass out of the way with the bar and reached in to release the locks. He barely noticed his knuckles bleeding from pounding on her windows before or the long, red angry lines down the arm that plunged recklessly through the broken glass.
As he got the door opened, the paramedics pushed him aside and went to work to get her out of the car. When they loaded her into the ambulance, Angel hopped in with her, leaving the police officers and Gunn to exchange information.
***
then something bends, and then it breaks
your worst mistake
accepting enemies on bended knees;
a litany of tragedies,
you're vexed, it seems you're hexed
When he walked into his flat, she was standing at his window, looking out over the night sky. The moonlight outlined her body, shimmering there in her white silk dress. He groaned in pain at the sight of her, while still ingrained in his mind was the memory of Buffy broken, silent and bloody being loaded into the ambulance. He crossed the room silently, knowing she heard him come in, knowing she would have known anyway.
"Your hands are red," she whispered, her lips nearly touching the glass pane. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her long dark hair.
"I know, pet," he answered, his voice muffled, "God, I know they are."
"And you've been with her," she said, tilting her head to the side to rest against his, "You've been unfaithful again."
"I'll stop seeing her and I'll help Buffy. I'll make it right, love," he choked as she turned around to face him, "Is it too late?"
"Do you love me, Spike?"
"I love you, Drusilla," he answered, gripping her narrow hips with trembling hands, "I didn't think I could love anyone, but I love you."
"She's bleeding," she said, brushing her lips against his cheek, "She can't stop it. My poor Angel can't find the wound, but you know."
"Yes," he said, "I know."
"It's time," she moaned as he pulled her into his arms. He slid his hands down her thighs and drifted along the smooth surface of her dress until he reached the bottom, draping the worn carpet on his floor. He lifted the hem, gathering the yards of fabric in his hands as her pale satin skin appeared. One more night in her arms, he told himself and then he would make it right again.
***
i guess it's over now
because I've never seen so much, never seen so much, so much blood
in all the confusion, there's something so serene
I'm just a posthumous part of the scene
now I'm floating above looking in
Angel went through the motions, numbly answering the questions of the nurses. They wouldn't let him in her room. Family only, they said. Critical condition, they said. He dialed the phone, called Spike, got Anya's number. Anya said she would handle everything, call everyone. Angel fumbled his thanks and leaned against the cool metal of the pay phone.
Family only, they said. Family? He didn't even know what that word meant. Orphaned at birth, growing up in the streets, he had no idea what family was. That was probably why he never thought to even ask Buffy about hers. Did she have a family? Mother, Father, brothers, sisters? He thought about lying to them, claiming to be some relative but he couldn't make his mind form the lies. He lowered his large frame into a chair and sat there with his head in his hands, staring at that horrible white tiled floor, wishing it would tell him everything would be okay.
"Angel!" He looked up and saw the redhead, Willow, rushing toward him, closely followed by Xander, Cordelia and Doyle.
"Is she okay?" Willow asked, sitting in the chair next to him. Doyle sat down on his other side, saying nothing but offering his presence as comfort.
"I don't know," he answered, "There was so much blood and she wouldn't wake up. God, I screamed and she wouldn't wake up..."
"What happened to your hands?" Willow asked, touching his bloody hands. He vaguely remembered a nurse or someone mentioning it, but he walked away. He didn't want a bandage, he wanted to see Buffy.
"The door wouldn't open. I told her to lock her doors. Always lock them," he mumbled, feeling a sob rising up in his chest, "I tried to break in the window. She was trapped in there..."
"But you got her out," Willow said, holding his hand loosely in hers. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The guy she had seen was always full of confidence and larger than life. Now he was broken and shaking. She was certain he was going to cry any second. She wasn't sure what she expected his reaction to be, but this wasn't it.
"Willow?"
"Giles!" Willow shouted, running over to jump in the older gentleman's arms. Cordelia and Xander gathered around him, as Angel watched.
"Any news?" he asked, pulling off his glasses and wiping them thoroughly before putting them back on.
"Critical condition," Angel said, rising to his feet, "They said only family could see her. She hasn't woken up yet."
"Rupert Giles," Giles said, extending his hand, "I'm Buffy's uncle. Since her father doesn't have much regard for his daughter, I am her only family."
"I'm Angel," he said, reaching out to shake Giles' hand but pulled away when they both noticed his bloody hand at the same time.
"So you're the chap," Giles said with a kind look in his eyes, "She told me about you."
"She did?"
"She doesn't talk about much else these days," Giles said, with a slight chuckle, pretending not to be nearly as worried as he was, "I'll go check on her."
"She'll be alright," Doyle said, standing at his side.
"She has to be," Angel answered grimly.
"Listen buddy," Doyle said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Gunn's on his way. Said something about having some news."
"About the accident?" Angel asked hopefully.
"That was no accident," Doyle replied, "Someone clipped her break line while you all were inside the hotel."
***
the wailing voice
Drusilla demanded that Spike take her with him. She wanted to be a part of it. She wanted him to know that without her there was no "right." He was beginning to understand. The first night he met her, at Angel's art show in her gallery, he knew Angel had originally planned to take her home. Spike didn't take her home that night either. He went home with Anya, but the next day he was back at her gallery.
He never fell in love before. He didn't believe in the saps that quoted poetry and went on about eternity together. He didn't love Drusilla. Not right away. Or that's what he told himself. She was perfectly insane, partially clairvoyant and rolling in wealth. He told himself he wanted her money, that he was using her and just to prove it to himself, he shagged Anya and kept shagging her. He kept reminding himself that she was just another girl to rut, that she was mad, but in the end it didn't matter. He lost himself in her arms. In bed that night, she told him what he had to do to make things right. What his conscience had already made clear, his lover demanded.
"Is she dead?" Darla asked, looking up from the fireplace with a glass of white wine in her hand.
"No," Spike said, sitting on the couch with Drusilla closely at his side.
"Guess we'll have to try again," she mused, "Wine?"
"No," Spike said, shaking his head and hardening his eyes as he looked at the beautiful blonde.
"Don't tell me you're getting a conscience now, Spike," she said, "It's not like you did anything but keep your mouth shut. Now all you have to do is continue to keep your mouth shut and everything will be fine."
"But I didn't keep my mouth shut," Spike said, wrapping an arm around Drusilla with a smile as the door busted open.
"You fucking bitch!"
"What's the problem?" Darla said, eyeing Riley Finn gravely.
"You tried to kill her," he said, moving across the room until he was standing in front her chair, fuming with anger.
"I said I would separate her and Angel," Darla said, taking a sip of her wine, "I'm doing exactly what I said I'd do."
Riley grabbed the glass from her hand and tossed it aside. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around her delicate throat
"The deal was for me to get Buffy back and for you to get Angel! When you had that fake attack set up, you promised me that nothing like that would ever happen again. You told me you wouldn't try to hurt her again. I didn't lose her just to have her die!" he said, squeezing just slightly. He felt a hard jab and saw a small hand gun pressing into his stomach. He released her and stepped away slowly, shaking in fury.
"The plan was for me to get Angel," she said, standing from her chair, "You added the Buffy part. I don't care what happens to the bitch, as long as she's not with Angel. And for the record, I never said I wouldn't hurt her. I said I wouldn't have her attacked again. I didn't."
Darla turned to smiled coldly at Spike, "I suppose you shared the news with Riley?"
"Yeah," he said, standing up and reaching out a hand to Drusilla, "I think my work here is done."
"I don't think so," she said, pointing the weapon not at Spike but at Drusilla, "There are no happy ever afters in this story, William."
***
when you walked in, i said with a grin, that we were just talking about you
"You know what I find amazing," Detective Kate Lockley said, as she sauntered up to Angel in the hospital waiting room.
"I bet you're going to tell me," Angel said, standing up again slowly. Giles had just returned to tell him that the doctors were still performing tests and they were all sitting there waiting for something to happen.
"That one person can have three different last names," she said, looking down at her notepad, "And then there's the part where the same girl is hurt violently twice within a month's time, shortly after making your acquaintance and you just happen to be there both times. Don't you think that's odd?"
"I would never hurt her," Angel said, "Why do you think I hired investigators to watch over her and protect her?"
"That's the part I don't get," she said, putting a hand on her hip, "Care to explain?"
"My friend, Charles Gunn, is an private investigator," Angel began, "I've hired him to-"
"Excuse me," Giles said, stepping in and interrupting Angel, "My apologies, Angel. Detective Lockley, please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Rupert Giles."
"Giles," she answered snidely, "If you think your money will influence me-"
"Let's not get off on the wrong foot," he said calmly, "I spoke with your chief earlier this evening. I have conducted my own investigation on the subject of my niece. I believe if you speak with him, he will inform you that Angel is not to be taken into custody today."
"You have got to be shitting me!" she raged, "He is the prime suspect of this case!"
"I understand that," Giles said, nodding solemnly, "However, my niece is currently unconscious and needs the man she loves by her side. I have my own suspicions about his character, but I will not have him taken in for questioning until she regains consciousness. Once she is lucent, we will be happy to cooperate."
"I'm speaking to the chief and then I will be back to take him in," she said, before turning on her heel and stormed from the room.
"Mr. Giles," Angel said, "I appreciate what you just did, but I need you to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt Buffy."
"I'm fairly certain you wouldn't," Giles said, "But let's focus on Buffy for now."
***
if you scream in your sleep or collapse in a heap
and spontaneously weep, then you know you're in deep
When Angel finally was able to get into her room, with the help of Giles, he looked down at her fragile body, lying against those crisp hospital sheets. Tubes and wires trailed from her to several machines that monitored her. Losing the courage he had held onto so tightly, he dragged a chair to the side of her bed and then sat down in it slowly. He picked up her limp hand and kissed it before pressing it to his face.
Her skin was warm and she was breathing. The doctors had spoken to Mr. Giles in lowered tones but Angel had caught pieces of it. They thought she would regain consciousness soon. Brain damage wasn't likely but she probably had a concussion. The force of the wreck had been jarring enough for the seat belt to break three of her ribs but fortunately, she hadn't punctured her lung.
Angel held her hand in his and did what the doctors told him, he began to talk to her. He started with the important things, how much he loved her and needed her. After awhile, he began to tell her about his childhood and how he grew up, all the things he never told anyone if he could avoid it. As he waited for her to wake up, he told her funny little stories about him and Spike shoplifting candy bars at the corner store, about the woman who owned one of orphanages who called him her angel, about the boat they had found that tiny child in all those years ago.
***
Part Ten "Memories"
***
only memories, fading memories
Dena Franklin strolled into work twenty-five minutes late from her lunch hour, which was actually more like dinner since she worked the night shift. She was prepared to try and sneak in or think of a good excuse for being late but when she arrived at the nurses' station, surprisingly enough, none of them even noticed she was late or that she was back at all, actually. They were whispering amongst themselves, gossiping about the recent arrival of a blonde girl who was still unconscious after three hours of being admitted to the ER.
"Her uncle is Rupert Giles," one of her co-workers confided.
"The Rupert Giles," another asked, "As in the rich and handsome Rupert Giles?"
"That would be the one. Have you seen her boyfriend?"
"The drop dead gorgeous artist who has been sitting by her bed? The things I could do to him! If only he would let someone look at his hands. He's bleeding all over her bed, but no one can seem to get him out of there. If Dr. Thomas sees him, there's going to be hell to pay."
"He's famous, you know."
"Really?"
"Angel? Ring a bell? His work has been exploding all over the city."
"Angel?" Dena asked, leaning over the counter, still holding her purse.
"Yes. Have you seen him? He's definitely more interesting to look at than his art, I can tell you that."
"Are you sure it's Angel?" Dena asked, "The artist?"
"You know him?"
"I use to be involved with him," Dena confided, moving toward the room they indicated. The other nurses stared at her as she moved toward the room in question. "Involved" was a pretty acceptable term for what they had, she supposed. It was more like raw, hedonistic sex in exciting places. He always thought of a new slightly public location to engage in indecent activities with her. Probably, the most thrilling event was what she thought of as "the restaurant night." He picked her up at her apartment that night and smiled appreciatively at her short skirt. He had a way of smiling that made her knees weak and a way of taking advantage of her weaknesses that could easily be added to the list of his other talents.
She kissed him in greeting and stepped out her apartment, locking the door as she always did and wasn't at all surprised when he stepped up behind her, pressing his groin against her ass. What did surprise her, however, was when he slipped his hand under her skirt and ripped away her silk panties. She gasped in surprise and turned to face him, watching his face slip in a cool smile as he tucked her panties into his pocket.
"Ready?" he asked casually as if he had been standing there like a choir boy the whole time.
"Um...yes," she said, nervous and excited at the same time, feeling unusually naked now.
"Don't worry," he said, as they stepped into the elevator. When the doors closed behind them, he reached between her legs, feeling her and grinning happily to see that she was already wet for him, "You're going to love this one."
He took her to an Italian restaurant, plush and dim-lit, where the tables had crisp white table cloths and elegantly dressed waiters. He swirled his red wine in his glass and took a sip, rolling the liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it.
Out of all the times he had her, in different places, in a variety of ways, of all the things he talked her into doing, that evening was the most memorable. He whispered little things to her over their expensive plates, drinking more expensive wine. The things he said would have made anyone choke on their pasta had they overheard. He relished in making her hotter and wetter with each passing moment, savoring his food without even touching her hand. By the end of the meal, she was begging him to fuck her. At that point, she wouldn't have cared if it was on the table in the middle of that exquisite restaurant or on the sidewalk out front.
The worst part of it was her own loss of dignity, her need of him to the point of whimpering across the table at him. Just a caress, just a touch would have lifted the strain but he refused. He sat there, smiling and gorgeous, his lips wrapping around his words so beautifully she wanted to lick them. He didn't touch her until they left the restaurant and at that point she was panting and dripping for him. He pressed her against the side of the building, against the rough brick. She spread lustfully for him that night and any other time he asked her to she did the same.
As she made her way down the hall to look into Buffy Summers' room, she took a deep breath. She knew that if he asked her to, she would sleep with him on the hospital floor, a few feet from where her current lover was making his rounds, the Dr. Thomas everyone was so intimidated by. Dena thought that half the women he slept with and painted were in love with him. She wasn't sure. She didn't know if she loved him, but she did know she would never refuse him.
She was shocked to see the girl, beaten and bruised, lying in the bed. Dena was thinking she would look like his other women, sophisticated and voluptuous. She wasn't more than a girl, innocent and sweet looking. She shifted her eyes to her ex-lover. He was awake but seemed to be in shock. He held her hand to his lips, elbows resting on her bed, staring at her unconscious face. His face was twisted with pain and his eyes looked anguished and blank. The other nurses said he talked to her on and off and wouldn't leave her side. They kept trying to treat his wounds but he refused. He didn't care about his injuries, only hers.
Dena stepped slowly into the room, feeling like a trespasser, "Angel?"
He looked up slowly, focusing slowly, and stared at her for a minute or two before he said, "Dena?"
"Hi," she said, feeling strange in her uniform in front of him. He probably never saw her in so many clothes, "You probably don't remember that I was-"
"In nursing school," he mumbled, looking back over at Buffy, "I remember."
"She's only been unconscious for 3 hours," Dena said, moving closer, "She'll wake up. There's no reason she wouldn't."
"I'm sorry," he said, blinking back tears, which caused Dena to swallow her gasp of surprise, "I can't...I can't talk right now."
Angel jerked when she made it to his side and gently pulled one of his bloody hands from Buffy's, "Let me bandage your hands, Angel. You can't help her if you're sick too. These could get infected."
"I'm not leaving her side," he said firmly, his jaw set in determination.
"Okay," she said softly, "I'll do it right here, right by her bed. Alright?"
He nodded slowly and watched as she moved to get bandages. She blinked back her tears as she headed out of the room. She had never seen him like that, never thought she would see him care that much about anyone other than himself. He was a generous lover, unselfish and giving, but when he came to emotions, he wasn't in it for that. Seeing him there, so obviously in love with that tiny blonde girl, was painful. She never thought loving Angel was an option. He always made it seem like it wasn't and maybe he was right...until now.
***
call it impulsive,
call it compulsive,
call it insane
but when i'm surrounded, i just can't stop
Spike stepped forward and steered Drusilla until she was standing behind him, protecting her body with his. He'd never been the sort of throw yourself to the wolves type mate. He was more the protect yourself and screw everyone else type, but this woman he knew he couldn't live without.
"Isn't that sweet?" Darla sneered, "Protecting your crazy bitch? Doesn't matter. Before I let you walk out that door and spill everything to Angel, I'll kill you and then her. You should know by now that I don't give a fuck what happens to you, Spike, or anyone else for that matter."
"That's funny," Drusilla said, releasing a throaty laugh before resting her chin on Spike's shoulder, unafraid of the possibility of her own death, "You're going to kill people over Angel. Who's the mad one?"
"My man, Drusilla," she snapped back, "Is more important than your pathetic lives."
"Ah," Dru returned smiling and looking past the gun, into Darla's cold blue eyes, "I see. You must be irresistible to him."
"He can't stand the bint," Spike added and didn't flinch when Darla moved to point her gun at his chest, "He really does hate you, pet. Not sure why you keep this up."
"I asked for your silence, not your opinion!" Darla shouted. She barely finished her sentence before she fell to the floor. Spike grinned at Riley, holding her a small sculpture in his hand.
"Hey, that's one of Angel's," Spike commented, "Thanks for the save there, mate. Coulda been a bit slower though. She nearly shot me."
"It would have been a gift to the rest of the world," Riley said as he moved toward the doorway, tossing the small statue aside as if touching a piece of Angel's artwork actually caused him physical pain. He already felt the bile rising in his throat and he couldn't decide whether it was for Darla, Angel or himself.
"Where do you think you're going?" Spike said, wrapping his arm around Dru's waist as they followed behind, moving in their traditional leisurely fashion.
"The hospital," Riley shouted, "My girlfriend is there, in case you forgot!"
"Actually," Spike answered, "She's Angel's girl now. If you start to forget that, I'll be glad to fill her in on all the help you gave Darla in recent past."
"You don't know what I did!" Riley answered, "I didn't do anything. I said I'd help but she kept me in the dark about everything."
"You didn't tell her everything about your little pet?" Spike countered, "You didn't tell her where Buffy was going to be at certain times? Where her gallery was? What car she drove? Where she lived? You spilled all the details so that you could risk her life for a piece of ass."
"I didn't know what Darla was going to do!"
"After Buffy was attacked by Penn, you knew what Darla was capable of and you did nothing to stop her," Spike said, strolling past him and out the door, "She'll believe me. If you try and get between her and Angel again, I'll make sure they both find out about it."
"Spike," Drusilla said, whispering in his ear once they were back out on the street. She clutched his arm possessively as they walked, wearing a soft smile of pride, "She's not safe, you know. The sky, it knows, it's not clear yet. Murky things are coming."
"I'm sure they are, love," he said, pulling her closer, "But I said I'd make it right, didn't I?"
"Yes," she answered, leaning her head on his shoulder, "You'll make it right. My Spike will always make it right."
"Eventually," he muttered.
***
isn't it beautiful to see two people so much in love?
Buffy's eyes blinked open four hours and twenty-three minutes after the crash. Angel leaned in, holding his breath as her eyes twitched and then made a sleepy little half flutter.
"Buffy?" he whispered, squeezing her hand.
"Angel?" she said weakly and then winced from the sound her own voice, ripping painfully through her head.
"I'm here," he said, moving closer and kissing her knuckles gently, waiting for her eyes to open completely. He wanted to beg her to look at him, wanted to promise her the world if he could just see her eyes and know that she was okay.
"Where am I?" she asked, finally looking at him fully.
"Hospital," he said, pressing the buzzer for the nurse, "You were in a car accident. Do you remember?"
"The brakes didn't work," she said, "I kept pushing them but the car wasn't stopping and I went through the redlight."
"Yes," he said, nodding. No amnesia. She remembered everything.
"Angel?"
"Yes, love?"
"Can I go home now?"
***
well, can you blame 'em?
uh, yeah
Angel hated cops more than Spike did. Spike thought Angel would be ripping the room apart by now if he had been forced to sit there and be patient for as long as he had been waiting. Course that had been old Angel, juvenile delinquent Angel. Gunn was the only one of their group of friends who could tolerate the police station and that was because he'd had to kiss so much polyester clad ass in the past couple of years since he'd been a detective. Well, as close to ass kissing as Gunn got anyway, which mainly consisted of telling them what they wanted to hear and then doing what he wanted to do anyway. His policy was that it was better to ask forgiveness than ask permission. Not that he ever asked for forgiveness.
Spike was reminded of the adolescent quibbles he had gotten into with Penn, Angel and Gunn as he sat in what Kate liked to call the "Conference Room." It was an interrogation room if he had ever seen one. He stared down at the cigarette burns on the plastic white table and drummed his fingers as he waited for Detective Lockley to grace him with her presence. He finally lit a cigarette and blew smoke calmly at the two sided mirror. He knew this waiting game. She thought it would make him nervous and twitchy if they stared at him like a caged animal from the other side of that glass.
Spike didn't give a flying fuck if they stared at him all godamn day just as long as he had plenty of smokes and Angel didn't overhear any of what he was about to say. If he could get through this without losing a friend, it would be a miracle. He ashed on the floor unapologetically as the pretty blonde made her way into the room.
"'Bout time, pet," he said, taking a long drag on his smoke and leaning the chair back so it balanced on two of the four legs, "Thought I was going to have to go out for a beer and come back at a better time."
"My name is Detective Lockley," she said, "And I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"That's alright but let's get on with it already."
"You have some information about the Buffy Summer's case?"
"Oh do I," he said, dropping the chair back to resting on all fours, "Let's discuss possible outcomes of me telling you things first, love."
***
take it from a fella
who's been around the block so many times
he knows the only parking spot that's free
"Buffy," Xander complained as he went into her apartment a week later, with Willow following closely behind him, "I want you to be safe and all, but can you do something about the bodyguard outside your front door? Guy looks like a freight train and every time I come here he acts like he doesn't remember me."
"Tommy?" Buffy asked, "He's really sweet once you get to know him. He's just doing his job."
"He doesn't look very sweet to me," Xander grumbled. Willow smiled and patted his shoulder, "It's okay, Xand."
"Where's your crazy boyfriend?" Xander asked, craning his neck to look around the apartment.
"He went home," Buffy said, "I asked him to give us some time to hang out."
"He has a home?" Xander blustered, "He hasn't left your side since the accident. I thought maybe he gave up his own place in moved in here so he could growl at anyone who dared look at you."
"Don't be an ass, Xander," Willow said, nudging him with her elbow.
"Don't like that guy," Xander mumbled underneath his breath as he moved to sit on the love seat with Willow.
"What?" Willow asked accusingly.
"What do you want for dinner?" He amended, smiling at the dirty looks he was receiving from his two female companions, "What? Aren't you hungry?"
***
Part Eleven "Night"
***
it just measures up the distance
Buffy sat alone in her apartment for the first time in over a month. She stared at her book and shifted uncomfortably as she tried to set herself at ease. She thought she wanted an evening to herself and after talking Angel into going out with his friends and convincing her own friends that she wanted an evening of alone time, she found her apartment miserably lonely.
She set her book down and wandered onto the balcony to stare out into the night. It was one of the rare occasions that stars could actually been seen over the city and she smiled at them gratefully. She thought about calling Angel, but talked herself out of it. He deserved a night out with his buddies, drinking and having a good time. It wasn't fair that he felt he had to babysit her all the time.
She ran a hand absently over her nearly healed ribcage and wondered if he would ever touch her again like he had that one wonderful night before the car accident. All the nights since then had been filled with snuggling and gentle kisses but he never let his hands wander, never tried to spark anything more. He held her like he expected her to break any moment and broke off embraces that lasted a fraction too long.
When a knock sounded on her door, she jerked in surprise and hurried back inside to answer it, thinking it must be Angel. Even though he had a key, he never used it. She was glowing in happiness and smiling brightly when she answered the door, only to have it fade when she saw Riley standing there.
"Hi," she said, looking at him questioningly.
"Hi," he said, uneasily, "Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you for a minute."
She stepped back and allowed him to enter, glad for the first time that evening that Angel wasn't there. He would not have been pleased at all about Riley's unannounced visit. She gestured to the couch and sat down in her cream colored overstuffed chair to keep the distance between them.
"I wanted to see how you were," he said, perching nervously on the edge of the couch, "I heard about the accident."
"I'm fine," she said, "Almost all healed up."
"That's good," he said, nodding slowly.
"How are you?"
"I'm okay," he said, running a hand through his hair, "Actually, I'm not so good. I miss you, Buffy. I was hoping you would think about giving me another chance."
"I'm sorry," she said gently, "I'm seeing Angel."
"I heard," he grumbled, "I'm not trying to bad mouth him...actually, I'd love to. He's used more women in this town than you would believe. I'm afraid he's going to hurt you."
"I can take care of myself," she said, raising her chin in defiance, "And I know all about his past. That doesn't mean anything to me."
"Buffy," he said, moving over and sitting on the ottoman in front of her, "I can make things right between us. I know I can. Can you just give me a chance?"
"I'm don't think so, Riley," she answered, "I don't want to hurt you, I just...I'm seeing Angel now."
"You already said that," he said harshly, "He's going to break your heart."
"He won't," she whispered.
"When he does," he said, standing and heading toward the door, "I'll be here."
"Don't wait for me," she said, trying to fill her words with as much confidence as possible.
"I have to," he said, before stepping out of her door and closing it gently behind him, "I love you."
Buffy stood up and looked at the closed door for a moment before slipping on shoes and grabbing her purse. All of a sudden her apartment seemed too big or too small or both. Either way, it was frustratingly empty. Once outside, she passed up her car with a nervous glance. It had been fixed weeks before and she had even driven it, but since the accident she avoided it at all costs. She went over to where Tommy was sitting in his car and leaned in the window.
"Hey there," he said with a smile, "Saw your ex visit."
"Yeah," she said, biting her lower lip, "Can you take me to Angel's? I don't want to stay at home tonight. I figured since you're going to follow me anyway, maybe you wouldn't mind..."
"Sure, honey," he answered, unlocking the doors as she circled the car to climb in, "You know he's out with Gunn and the guys, right?"
"I have a key," she said, holding up one of the keys on her keyring for him to see after she had climbed in and navigated her footing around the fast food containers and soda cans.
"He gave you a key to his apartment?" Tommy said, nearly shouting in surprise at her as he pulled out the parking lot.
"Yes," she said, "Why? Something wrong with that?"
"Nope," he said, shaking his head with an incredulous smile, "Uh-uh."
***
screw the raspberry iced tea
The beer was bitter, cold and heavenly as Angel swallowed the end of his first glass quickly and slammed it on the counter. Doyle, knowing his friend's torments of the heart and soul recently, smiled at him and gave him a refill on the house. He made short work of the second glass as Spike slid onto the stool next to him.
"Your dog die, mate?" Spike asked with a grin, "Or are you still suffering from not shagging your girl?"
"Bite me," Angel answered, taking another gulp of liquid assurance, thanking God that Doyle was such a good friend and quick with the refills.
"That's what I thought," he said as he accepted the whiskey neat set before him by his friend and bartender, "How long's he been drowning his sorrows, Doyle?"
"Not nearly long enough," Doyle answered with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Yeah," Gunn offered from the other side, "I'm surprised he hasn't been here every night after leaving Buffy's side."
"You know what the strangest thing is about all this," Angel said, tracing his fingers in the side of the frosty glass, "Is that Detective Lockley never came back to take me in for questioning."
"Really?" Spike said, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise, "Well, that is strange. Maybe they found the responsible party."
"Wouldn't they have told Buffy?" Angel mused.
"What about her uncle?" Doyle offered, "He seemed to have his fingers in a few of the pots around the city."
"Maybe," Angel said, taking another drink, "I guess I'll call her this week and see if they came up with anything new."
"And get arrested?" Spike said quickly, "No mate, maybe you should just wait for them to remember you instead of reminding them."
"If they haven't arrested me already..."
"Believe me," Spike offered, downing his whiskey and sliding it across the bar, "It's bloody idiotic to go to the police station, mate. Just watch out for your little cutie. Where is she anyway?"
"At home," Angel said, gloomily.
"By herself?" Spike asked with surprise.
"Yeah."
"Are you out of your gob?! You haven't slept with her and you leave her alone on a Friday night?"
"What?" Angel asked, almost feeling the rain pelt on him from the dark cloud he was sure was hanging above the bar, "She told me to go out. She wanted me to take some time to hang out with you jerks."
"And you listened to her?" Gunn asked, piping in again.
"Well...yeah," Angel said, "I shouldn't have?"
"You should being fucking the life out of the girl," Spike grunted, taking a swallow of the new drink in front of her.
"She's gonna think you don't want her," Doyle added.
"But I do want her!" Angel yelled, "She knows that."
"Does she, mate?" Spike asked, "Cause it's only a matter of time before some other nancy boy prances up and touches her the right way and-"
"No one's going to be touching her," Angel growled, eyeing his friend angrily.
"Really?" Spike said, "Hope you're right mate. Poor girl, been through all that pain and hurt, only to sit home by herself thinking about how you haven't made love to her yet."
"What are you trying to do to me?" Angel said, "She's not ready for that."
"She's not or you're not?" Spike asked.
"You don't know shit about her."
"I know women, Peaches," Spike said, "And I would have thought you did by now. You've slept with half the women in this town. I bet your little blondie is wondering why you would sleep with everyone else and not her."
"No, she's not," Angel said, knocking back the rest of this beer and pleading with Doyle silently to refill it.
"Alright," Spike said, holding up his hands.
"Why do you care, anyway?" Angel asked, "You're just waiting for me to screw this up so you can slither your way into her life."
"Damn right," Spike said, honestly, "She'll need someone's shoulder to cry on."
"It better not be yours."
"You say that like you're already expecting to lose her," Doyle said, ignoring for the moment the onslaught of Friday night traffic as he drifted in and out of his friends' conversation.
"I hope I don't."
"Well, Cordy seems to think you're an asshole," Doyle said, grinning, "I keep tellin' her she's right and shejust keeps agreeing with me."
"Thanks a lot, Doyle."
"Don't mention it."
***
just try to figure out what all this is for
it's the perfect time of day to throw all your cares away
Buffy made her way into Angel's apartment and couldn't believe the stifling heat in there. It made sense that he would keep the air off since he was never there anyway, but she had already broken into a sweat before she made it to the windows. She opened them one by one and breathed a sigh of relief as fresh air swept through place, making it infinitely more comfortable in a manner of minutes.
After she opened every window in the apartment, she laid down on the couch and thought about why she had even gone there in the first place. He wouldn't be angry about her going there, she knew that, but she still felt she was violating his space. She didn't feel bad enough about it go home though. His apartment made her feel more safe and secure, like nothing would hurt her if she was there. She kicked off her shoes and curled up, falling fast asleep on his sofa.
She jerked awake an hour later when the phone rang and she ran to answer it, but paused. Deciding against it, she let the answering machine pick up, feeling slightly guilty for listening to the message that someone was about to leave. After four rings, she heard his sexy, rumbling voice speaking, asking the caller to leave a message.
"Angel," a high pitched female voice crooned, "It's Brenda. Are you there? Guess not. Call me soon, lover."
Buffy winced with the word "lover" and sat by the phone for a few minutes. She hadn't really taken the time to think about all the women he had slept with. At least, she tried to force it from her mind when it wandered in that direction. She was sure he wanted her. Well, she was pretty sure she was sure, but he hardly touched her, barely let their kisses rise to the point of passion. He said he had stopped seeing the other women, that she was the only one he wanted, but if that was true, then how come he hadn't made love to her yet?
She chided herself for her thoughts as she headed back to the couch. He spent every night in her bed, just about. There was no way he was seeing anyone else. Besides, she had been attacked and then with the car accident, she was sure he just wanted to make sure she was ready. She smiled with her reasoning. Still feeling overheated, she slipped off her jeans and laid down once more. She reminded herself again and again that he did want her, she was attractive and when he came home, she would remember that it was all true.
***
just get on the phone
tell her you're coming home
if you need her, you should be there
After few too many, Angel allowed Spike to drive him home and thought about calling Buffy on the way. He looked at his watch and realized she would be fast asleep by then. He groaned in irritation. What a useless waste of an evening. He spent the whole time drinking, thinking about her, defending his actions to his friends and trying to keep three of his ex-lovers from molesting him.
"Glad you're not going to see Buffy tonight," Spike said nonchalantly as he steered his car toward Angel's apartment.
"Why?" Angel slurred, thinking just the opposite.
"Cause you reek like beer, smoke and perfume from the bints crawling all over you tonight and there's lipstick on your collar."
"Jesus," Angel swore, flipping the visor to look in the mirror and taking several seconds to focus on a red smudge there just as Spike had said.
"Yeah," Spike said, with a smile "But good show with the self control. I wouldn't have made it out of there without at least one blow job. Actually, I didn't."
"Great," Angel spat sarcastically, "I'm so happy for you."
"Knew you would be," Spike answered as he pulled into the apartment complex's parking lot, "By the way, I want to borrow your motorcycle."
"You're just asking me now ‘cause I'm drunk."
"Good call," Spike said, "What do you say?"
"Don't care," Angel said, knowing it was the liquor speaking just as much as Spike did. There was no way he would have agreed so easily otherwise. Spike followed him up to his apartment and walked in behind his stumbling friend.
"Hot as hell in here, mate," Spike complained, "Don't you believe in air conditioning?"
"Never here anymore," he said as he moved toward the answering machine and pressed the blinking button in the dark, anxious to see if it was Buffy, instead finding Brenda's voice there. He deleted it with disappointment as Spike flipped on the lights. He turned with the sound of Spike's whisper, "Holy shit."
On the couch, lay Buffy completely, gloriously naked except for a pair of white lace panties. Her hair fanned around her, curling over her shoulders and her full breasts were in full, perfect view. Angel nearly tripped as he moved across the room to stand in front of her, blocking Spike's view.
"Bedroom," Angel ordered, pointing toward the room in question, "Go in the bedroom."
"Why?" Spike asked, leaning a bit to see if he could get another look at her, "Are there more naked women in there?"
"No," Angel said, in a low, dangerous voice, "the motorcycle keys are in there on my dresser. Get them and get the hell out."
"Relax, mate," Spike said, strolling down the hallway and taking a deep breath as he did, still seeing her golden skin and lovely body in his mind as he went, "You're the one who keeps it so hot in here that a girl has no choice but to take off her clothes."
Angel quickly took off his shirt, intending to cover her with it, only to glimpse the lipstick stained collar. He tossed it aside and grabbed the blanket that hung on the back of the couch. It was hot as hell but he didn't care. Spike wasn't going to see one more square inch of her body. He stood there next to the couch looking down on her until Spike returned, taking his sweet time, with the keys.
"Getting undressed already?" Spike noted, nodding at his friend's bare chest.
"Goodbye, Spike," Angel said irritably.
"See ya, Peaches."
***
Part Twelve "The Real Me"
***
i think it's getting to the point where i can be myself again
i think it's getting to the point where we have almost made amends
i think it's getting to the point that is the hardest part
and if you call, i will answer
and if you fall, I'll pick you up
and if you court this disaster, i'll point you home
Buffy woke up, not on the couch as she expected, but in Angel's bed covered in a crimson silk sheet. The comforter was tossed aside, folded back over the bed. She glanced over to find his side empty and frowned. She inhaled the cool air, heard the light humming of the air conditioner and looked over to see that he had closed the windows in the bedroom.
She stood and was initially surprised that she was nearly naked, before vaguely remembering shedding her clothes because of the suffocating temperature. Goose bumps appeared all over her body and her nipples hardened in complaint of the now cool air. She wandered over to his closet and opened it. She shuffled through his shirts, sliding them over the bar until she found one she liked and pulled it on. She stood in the open closet door, buttoning the shirt and looking down over the unorganized mountain of dirty clothes covering the entire expanse of the closet floor. She smiled and nearly giggled at his mess. It was a good thing he had so many clothes because it didn't look like he did laundry too often. He probably just bought new ones instead of washing the others.
As she was about to turn away, the shirt on top caught her eye and she bent over to pick it up. A smudge of bright red lipstick decorated the collar and her hands shook as she brought the piece of clothing to her nose. Inhaling slowly, she caught the faint scent of not one woman's perfume but at least two buried inside the smell of alcohol and smoke.
With tears filling her eyes, she dropped it and hurried into the living room, almost praying that he had gone back out with one of his lovers rather than staying there where she would have to face him. Her prayers were not met. She found him standing at the windows, freshly showered and wearing a pair of Levis that fit him too well. She ran over to the couch and scrambled to silently put on her jeans and nearly gasped inside her quiet sob as he turned around.
"Buffy," he said, walking over to her, "What's wrong?"
"Right," she snapped, unable to keep the tears from pouring from her eyes, "It shouldn't be too hard for you to figure out."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, holding her shoulders in his hands. Whatever alcohol was still in his system, fled as the sobering reality of her angry pain met him.
"I saw the shirt you wore tonight," she said, "Maybe you were too busy to think about hiding the evidence."
"Lipstick on the collar," he groaned, closing his eyes for a second, "Buffy, listen, I did not do anything with anyone tonight. I swear, baby. I ran into one of my ex...um...someone I was involved with before and she was hitting on me. I pushed her away."
"Don't call me, ‘baby,'" she said, stepping out of his arms and grabbing her shoes before she headed for the door. Angel ran, or more accurately, sprinted, toward the door and slammed his back against it to keep her from leaving.
"Am I your prisoner now?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling his shirt billowing around her, as her shoes dangled from one hand.
"No," he said, shaking his head sadly, "You can leave whenever you want, but just please give me a second to explain."
"Fine," she said, dropping her shoes on the floor by the door angrily, "Whatever."
"I would never do anything to hurt you," he began, words tumbling from his mouth in a stream of panic, "I haven't slept with, kissed or done anything else with another woman since I met you. Believe me, if I didn't want to be with you, I wouldn't be. I've always been sexually active but all my lovers knew that I wasn't dishonest with them. Buffy, I'm not lying. I love you. I only want to be with you."
"All your lovers," she breathed angrily, "Including Brenda on the answering machine?"
"Brenda too," he answered, feeling shame rise in his chest, "She's been calling me on and off for the last couple of months. I used to sleep with her regularly, but not anymore."
"I don't know if I should believe you," she said, turning from him and crossing the room, feeling if she had to spend one more second looking into his eyes or the muscular expanse of chest in front of her that she wouldn't have the strength she needed.
"I don't know how to convince you," he said to her back, "Except to ask you if I have ever given you a reason not to trust me. Except for my past, have I ever done anything to make you think you couldn't trust me? Buffy, I'm new at this love thing. I'll admit that, but I'm not stupid. I wouldn't do anything to risk losing you."
He watched as her shoulders began to shake and then, seconds later, emerged the sound of her sobs. He crossed the room and hesitated before circling her and pulling her into his arms. She allowed it, spilling tears on his bare chest, seeping through his skin and breaking his heart.
"I love you, Buffy," he repeated, kissing the top of her head. It was almost as if his words renewed her strength and she pulled out of his arms, stepping back.
"If you love me so damn much, then how come you won't touch me?" she demanded, fire streaking through her eyes, "You haven't even tried to make love to me once since we've been together. It's curious how many people tell me what a whore you are and then you refuse to make love to the woman you supposedly love. Don't you think that's interesting? I sure as hell do. Angel, if you don't really love me, if you aren't attracted to me, then just tell me now. I can't stand living this...whatever this is, if it's a lie."
"It's not!" he shouted, returning her anger with his own, "You want to know why I haven't tried to make love to you? Fine! I'll tell you. First, there was the attempted rape by a man I thought was my friend. Then there was the car accident where you nearly died and the men I hired couldn't even protect you from that outside their own damn office. The police are no fucking help. I have women throwing themselves at me whenever I'm not with you. Every time I come home, there's a message on my answering machine from an ex-lover inviting me to fuck them. And do you know what I do? I take a cold shower and go to see you! Buffy, something is not right here. My life is fucked up and it's fucking your life up too and I don't know how to make it better. I know you keep getting hurt because of me and I am powerless to stop it! I've never felt this godamn helpless in my entire, horrible life. All I know is that to me sex has always been that - sex - meaningless gratification. I don't want that with you. I want to make love to you but I don't want it to be cheap or less than what it should be. I don't want to hurt you for any reason. Ever. If you want me to make love to you tonight and every night for the rest of your life I will, but what happens on the day when you wake up and decide that I'm not the right guy for you, that you gave your virginity to a whore?"
Buffy took another step back and stared at him for a second. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were a strange mixture of fury and devotion like nothing she had ever seen. The only way to describe it was passion. God, she loved this man. All of him. She loved his overprotectiveness and his uneven communication skills. She loved the way he touched her and the way he didn't. She felt new tears slipping from her eyes, trying to decide what to do. He closed the distance between them and dropped to his knees before her, pressing his face against her abdomen as real tears, personifying every drop of pain he had experience in his life, poured out of him.
"Buffy," he choked as he held himself tightly against her, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, love."
She stood there for a moment, looking down at the man kneeling before her, showing real, raw, base emotion. She threaded her fingers through his short, spiky hair and slid the other around his broad shoulders, holding him to her for a few moments before dropping to her knees as well. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and pulled his face to hers, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"I love you, Angel," she whispered, "I want to be with you. I want you to make love to me tonight and every other night, but only if you want to...only if you want me."
"I want you," he said, "More than I've ever wanted anything else."
She bit her bottom lip to keep a fresh stream of tears from escaping and he stood, pulling her up with him before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom.
***
even a eunuch won't resist the magic of a kiss from such as you
Angel found himself standing in his bedroom, kissing Buffy as if his life depended on the success of that moment. He held her, suspended and against his chest, too involved in her sweet lips to wonder if she would ever begin to feel heavy. For someone so small, she breathed a passion and life in one kiss unequaled to nights making love to his other lovers.
Finally, he set her on her feet and unbuttoned the shirt she had stolen from his closet, holding his breath as the beautiful torso that he hadn't seen for over a month was revealed. He pulled her into his arms again and kissed her, bare chest against bare chest, denim against denim. He couldn't believe he was actually nervous about this, but he was. He kissed her neck as his hands moved to her waist, unbuttoning her jeans and unzipping them. He moved down to her breasts as he slid them off of her hips and down. She moaned as he caught one of her erect nipples between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make her groan, before sucking it roughly into his mouth. He moved to the other breast as he pulled her pants off, leaving her in her panties.
As he made his way back up to her lips, she reached for the button of his pants and he tensed for a second, then relaxed as she unzipped them. She mirrored the movement he had before, sliding them off of his hips. His erect cock bounced free and she felt a simultaneous twinge of arousal, fear and surprise. He hadn't bothered to put on boxers after his shower and so there was no barrier now that she removed his jeans. He stepped out of them and she nervously allowed him to pull her back to his arms, feeling his erection pressing against her stomach.
"Don't worry, love," he whispered, "I won't hurt you."
"I know," she said, shakily and meant it, but it didn't ease her fear. He slipped her panties away and then laid her down on his bed gently. He crouched over her and kissed her for a long time, feeling her begin to relax, delving deeper into his mouth, allowing her hands to move over him tentatively at first and then more daring, but keeping away from non-neutral zones.
He moved down her slowly, taking his time as he explored her body, worshiping her and giving her time to become accustomed to his touch. He kissed over her tender ribs and dipped into her adorable belly button before moving over her thighs. He kissed her inner thighs as he ran his hands lightly over the outside of them, moving up to her narrow hips and back down.
He spread her wider and he dipped in to taste her, laving his tongue over every contour of her, lashing at her clit and sucking it into his mouth, only to avoid it until she squirmed and whimpered beneath him. He smiled as he nibbled at her tender bud again, scraping his teeth gently over it and relishing in her jerks of pleasure. He settled there as he felt her climax building, lapping at it again and again until she was moaning and panting beneath him, lifting her hips from the bed to press harder against him. He sucked it into his mouth and heard her cry out as she climaxed. He held her thighs apart as she bucked and trembled. Greedily, he lapped up the juices escaping, giving her no mercy.
He kissed his way back up her flushed skin and after a long time of focusing on her torso and breasts, he made his way to her waiting lips. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself in his mouth. He entered her slowly, feeling her stretch to accept him. She paused and tensed as she felt the intrusion of his cock. He groaned as he felt her inner muscles tense and tighten around him. The feel of her tight, wet entrance squeezing the head of his cock was agonizing divinity.
He kissed her again, smooth his hands over the soft planes of her body. She began to relax again after a moment and he settled his fingertips on her sensitive clit, rubbing lightly. She moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss her and felt her thighs open wider once more. He pressed in a little further, until he was pressing against her virginity. Knowing the pain was inevitable, he increased the pressure and speed of his fingers on her clitoris, waiting for her second orgasm to arrive. As she began neared climax, she thrust up against him and he moved down, breaking the barrier. Her eyes flew open and she gasped in new pain as he settled inside her, still not filling her fully and felt the waves of her orgasm come over her. She panted in pleasure and pain as he pushed in further, feeling her spasm and flex around him.
Slowly and gently, he pulled way and moved back in, waiting for her to join him in his thrusts. Each movement was angled to press against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her with each stroke. Finally, and much to his happiness, she moved up to meet him, digging her fingers into his broad shoulders. She moaned his name as he increased the speed of his movements.
He waited, gritting his teeth to hold on until she joined him. He felt her nearing the edge once more and groaned, as if the sound would increase the arrival of her release. She slammed back up against him as she came and he released his seed inside her, moaning her name as she shouted his.
***
you can't believe it but it's true, she's given everything to you
Angel woke up shortly after he had fallen asleep and looked down at his lover. Her tousled head rested on his chest, her fingertips burning heat into his abdomen, her eyes closed peacefully. He smiled down at her and felt like pinching himself out of this dream. She gave him her heart, her virginity and her trust. And now she lay in his arms. For the first time in his life, he felt warm and loved. He felt like at thirty, life had just begun.
Buffy must have felt his unwavering stare, because after awhile, her eyes fluttered open. She first saw the hard marble skin of her lover and glanced up to see chocolate brown eyes looking down at her. Instantly remembering the night before, she blushed beneath his gaze.
"Hi," she said sleepily.
"Morning, love."
"Is it morning already?" she asked with pouted lips that begged to be kissed. Angel easily pulled her up to cover him, sliding her over his body deliciously and took her mouth with his.
"Technically," he said, nodding at the window, "but the sun hasn't risen yet."
"Good. I'm not ready to leave yet. You're...you're not ready for me to leave yet, are you?"
"I'll never be ready for you to leave," he answered honestly, his voice rough from sleeping. She felt his arousal against her and in spite of the soreness she felt, she couldn't help but be excited by it. He still wanted her, even after she had shown how little she knew about lovemaking the night before. She blushed again and wondered if she would spend the whole morning blushing at him, wanting him.
"Sorry," he whispered, placing another kiss on her silky lips, "I can't help it. Doesn't mean that we have to make love again if you aren't ready."
"I don't know," she answered truthfully, while her insides churned for him, while need laced through her, leaving scorching trails of heat lancing through her veins. The fire that welled up inside her and the want for her lover was something that wasn't new with the recent lovemaking. She always felt it in his arms, as if the whole world was burning for him. He smiled down at her as he saw the lust in her eyes. Wrapping his arms more tightly around her, he kissed her intoxicating lips again.
"That's okay, baby," he said, smoothing his hands over her skin. She felt softer than satin and if he were allowed to only touch her bare skin until the end of time, it would be enough to sate him...almost. He didn't need to make love to her again. He could take the memory with him until the end of time and find happiness there, but damn, he wanted to so much the thought made his heart pound.
"I...I want to," she blurted, more aroused by the second as his large hands wandered over her body, keeping from erogenous zones but his feather light touch felt like a million kisses on her skin.
"Are you sure? Because we don't have to," he whispered, looking intently into her eyes.
"Yes," she said and waited for his response. He rolled them over carefully, placing her softly against the pillows and watched her hair flutter against the crimson pillow case. As he prepared to make love to her again, he realized that they hadn't used protection the night before. Taking a deep breath, he tried to make himself not hyperventilate, because he realized that once again he had completely fucked things up.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, watching the emotions fly across his face.
"You're not on the pill, are you?"
Her eyes widened with the same thought that he just had, affirming his suspicions. Some women took the pill for other reasons, so she could have been on it, but he sincerely doubted it. Now he knew for sure even before she choked out the word "no."
"Damn," he said, "I'm sorry. I should have thought about it, but I didn't and...damn."
"That's kinda what I was thinking," she said, "But it's not your fault. We were both there last night."
"I have a drawer full of condoms right there," he said, pointing at the bedside table, "I'm just a fucking moron."
"Angel," Buffy said, pulling her on top of him, "There's nothing we can do about it now, so reach in the drawer and get a condom and make love to me. Whatever happens we'll deal."
"Buffy..."
"Angel," she said, kissing him lightly and biting his lower lip, "Are we going to fight about what we can't control or are you going to make love to me?"
"I'm going to make love you," he growled, the words rumbling angrily in his chest.
"Good," she said, "Because I want to feel you inside me again."
His growl turned into a moan of desire as he kissed her and reached into the drawer.
***
Part Thirteen "Moving Parts"
***
call me crazy but it really doesn't matter
all that matters to me is she
her life in a nutshell
no way would she want it to change me
it's not that easy cause
my time is often decided for me, for me
"So, let me get this straight," Gunn said, squinting into the sun at the baseball game ahead of him rather than looking at his friend, "She might possibly be pregnant and you don't care?"
"That came out wrong," Angel said, taking a bite of his hotdog. There was always something so much better about hotdogs when you get them at the ballpark. It must be some sort of process that's done to them there and nowhere else - unless, of course, the mind feels the need to compensate because you just spent 5 times more on this hotdog than you would for a whole package at the store, "I do care. Of course, I care. I'm just...not upset about it. I'm not panicking, that's what I'm saying."
"Alrighty then," Gunn said, nodding absently, "I have just one response to that."
"I'm listening."
"Either you marry her," Gunn threatened, "Or I'm taking you to rehab cause it's love or you're in some serious shit."
"I love her," he said, "I don't know how it happened."
"I wouldn't go spreading this around," Gunn said, with a grin, "It's already ruinin' your reputation."
"Another thing I really don't care about," Angel said seriously, "But don't tell anyone about the might be pregnant thing."
"I won't," Gunn said, "But I can't believe you're not freaking out. Remember the last time you had a scare? I thought we were going to have to administer first aid! The guys were arguing about who was going to tackle you and take you to the mental hospital."
"That was different."
"How?"
"The girl," Angel said with a faraway smile, "She wasn't Buffy."
The grunt of half appreciation, half irritation coming from his friend was lost on Angel as he thought about the previous night and that morning. Strange as it was, he couldn't see a downside of having a child to share with Buffy. Not on his end anyway. He could almost see her round little belly and the glow that always radiated from pregnant women. His only worry really, was that she was worried. That thought alone made him wonder if Gunn should tackle him and cart him off to the closest place with nice people in clean white coats because he knew he was crazy for that girl.
***
i am crazy just like you
i am crazy just like you
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"Yeah," Buffy sighed a second time, sinking into Willow's couch, which was the best thing about her apartment. They termed the massive and abhorrently ugly piece of furniture "The Couch of Slack" years ago because once you sat on it, you never wanted to get up again. When she talked it out of her mom after graduation, Buffy was incredibly envious that her friend had managed to finagle her parents out of it. It was the perfect centerpiece for long conversations and movie nights. If only they could find someone brave enough to attempt to reupholster the thing, it would be perfect.
"Are you okay?" Willow asked, leaning forward to look into her friend's eyes, or actually sinking forward, "I mean, what if you are pregnant?"
"I don't know," Buffy mused, wiggling as she slid further down, "I'm terrified and excited and freaked out, but somehow I know it's going to be okay, you know? Like, whatever happens, I think Angel will be there."
"What did he say?"
"Well, first he beat himself up about it," she said, smiling at the memory, "And then he was sweet and supportive. It was almost as if I had already told him I was pregnant. I was surprised he hadn't started buying nursery furniture."
"Really?" Willow asked, trying to imagine her friend's taciturn, dark and sexy boyfriend not flipping over the possibility of Buffy's possible predicament. She couldn't wrap her mind around it.
"Yeah. It was the strangest thing," she said, sighing, "And the most adorable. I guess we'll just wait and see what happens. Anyway, enough about me. How are you and Xander doing?"
"Good," Willow said, turning a bright shade of pink, "He's moving in."
"What?!! When?"
"This week," Willow exclaimed as if she had been trying to hold in that little piece of information for their entire visit and now she couldn't keep it down one more second, "He transferred his job here and I don't know. I think it's going to be...you know...for good this time."
"He's really staying?" Buffy asked, feeling her eyes begin to tear up in happiness. She and Willow both had waited for this for so long, it almost seemed impossible now. Almost.
***
i wax poetic while you're waxing your legs
and you say you think there's a traitor among us
if all else fails, you can blame it on me.
"I knew you'd be back," Darla said when Riley Finn stormed into her apartment.
"I just came to make sure you understand that all bets are off," Riley said, helping himself to a chair in her living room and watched her with his cold blue eyes as she sauntered across the room and sat on the couch, "You need to stay away from Buffy. I don't care what happens to *him* but Buffy is out of this."
"You think you're driving here?" Darla answered with a throaty laugh, "That's amusing. You're just a little boy, Riley. You can't control me."
"I'm not going to sit back while you destroy the woman I love," he shouted angrily, "If I have to I will go to Angel and tell him everything. I'll tell him how you are the bitch who was behind all of Buffy's recent incidents."
"No, you won't."
"And why not?"
"Because you know if you do that, you lose Buffy. Forever. She'll never trust you again. She'll never even speak to you again. I'll make sure that they both know about your involvement in this."
"You conniving..." he started and then took a deep breath, "I'm willing to lose her just to make sure she's safe."
"No, you aren't."
"You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"That's my line, lover boy," she answered, "But it's okay, because the plan's changing. You'll like this one. It's the one where we both win."
"I'm not playing your mind games, Darla," he said, standing up, "You screw everything up and I'm the one who ends up sweeping up your carnage."
"If we play this right," Darla said with a smile that made him sit back down, "We'll both get what we want. Buffy will never trust Angel again when I'm done. Promise."
"Fill me in," Riley said angrily, "And this is your last chance."
***
i realized it's all my fault but couldn't tell you
Spike groaned with frustration when the phone rang and pulled Drusilla closer to his side. Every ring forced him further from the exhausted sleep he was in. When the answering machine picked up, he sighed thankfully and prepared to go back to sleep, until he heard Detective Kate Lockley's annoying female voice chime in, "Spike? Pick up. I know you're there."
"Don't you have a life, Kate?" Spike demanded as he picked up the phone with one hand, keeping his eyes closed.
"Listen," she said, "If you don't want me to involve Buffy and Angel in this investigation, then you're going to have to help me. We don't have enough evidence to even hold Darla for a night."
"I told you everything I know," he said, feeling his patience wearing thin. He looked down at Drusilla who had opened her bright eyes and was giving him that look. You know the look. The damn look that said he had to help straighten out the mess he had helped begin.
"Spike," she said quietly in that lilting morning voice that made his heart skip a beat. She didn't have to say anything else. He knew what she meant but he pressed the phone against his chest and looked down at her anyway.
"I told her everything, pet," he promised, "Everything. I even gave her pictures for crying out loud."
Drusilla shook her dark head sadly and started to sit up in bed. Whenever she touched him she felt the darkness. The visions of upcoming disaster were getting worse and she knew that if he didn't do something, she would never be able to touch him without that contemptible feeling inside her. He reached out and seized her arm, pulling her back into bed as he raised the phone back to his ear.
"What the bloody hell do you need me to do?"
"Glad you're on board," Kate said sternly.
"Whatever," he snapped back, "Let's get on with it, then, shall we?"
***
what a pretty girl
Buffy, despite the challenge, was able to extract herself from Willow's couch and head back to her apartment to prepare for her date with Angel. Date. The word had an innocent Willow-esque quality to it, as did her giddiness. She turned on the stereo and danced around the apartment as she showered and dressed. She felt as if the air was lighter today than yesterday and the night was slightly more romantic than it had ever been.
She looked in the mirror at the finished product and asked herself again what Angel loved about her. It almost didn't matter. The feeling was so engulfing and purely marvelous, it ate away her questions or doubts. She straightened her dress and adjusted her hair a final time as she heard him knocking on the door - or actually, banging since her music was up so loud. She hurried through the apartment to get to the door and stopped short when he stepped inside, holding his keys.
"I didn't think you heard me," he said, fidgeting with his keys for a second before slipping them in his pocket.
"You used your key," she said, grinning at him.
"Well, you gave me one," he stammered, "And I knocked, but the music...God, you're beautiful."
"So are you," she said, looking over him hungrily.
He crossed the room and kissed her gently, plucking sweets from her red lips. He looked over her again, from the top of her upswept hair, leaving the sexy arch of her neck bare, down her toned legs to her little feet. The dress was form fitting and left irresistible cleavage there that begged him to kiss it. He held in the urge to take her to bed instead of taking her out and smiled.
"Ready, gorgeous?"
***
but now it seems all that people want is what i used to be,
.
and every time i try to do something new,
all they want is..
Dinner was exquisite and Buffy almost felt like he was trying to seduce her even though he was well aware that she would sleep with him again...and again. It's interesting how much they learned about each other just over a meal. Everything from the doors he opened for her to the way he sat in his chair, told her volumes about him. He reached across the table from time to time, caressing her fingers for a moment as if he had forgotten how her skin felt. Every touch came just in time to quell her own urge to touch him.
They memorized each other's faces, loving the chance to be able to stare without cause for remorse. The way their lips moved and formed the words, the way they ate and drank - everything was something new without being new at all.
Their evening walk to the club several blocks away was just another part of the dreamland he was wrapping her in. It was perfect. When they passed through the doors, she gaped at the people there, stunned by the amount of skin and beauty flashing before her eyes. They were all dressed for show, moving their bodies to the beat that pulsed through the room.
Angel checked over his date for her approval rating and was relieved to see her beaming smile returned. He wasn't sure if she would like this sort of place and more nerve racking was the thought that he might run into one of his ex-lovers there. It was a step he knew he had to take. He had to accept the fact that other women from his life before Buffy were going to appear from time to time.
He hated to dance. That was the other thing. Previously, the only reason to even set foot on a dance floor was to hold a hot body close to his. Now, he was dancing, or more like swaying, for much the same reason. He wanted to see her move to music, wanted to feel her move against him. She teased him, moving her small hands over his back, lightly scraping her fingertips in lustful trails on his chest. He forgot to glance around for exes. All he saw in the room was the tiny blonde in front of him.
Buffy was lost in the music and in Angel's arms, not even noticing that he barely danced or that angry glares of other women were burning into her from all around the room. He made up for his nonexistent dance steps in arms, hands and lips. He kissed the tape of her neck as she smoothed her back against his chest, smoothing his hands over her hips and belly. Innocent touches, small grazes of flesh on flesh were intoxicating and delicious.
Buffy was covered in a fine sheen of sweat when she decided to find the bathroom, weaving around the crush of equally hot and sweaty bodies. She stood in the long line outside of the ladies room, thinking Angel would probably send out a search party before she was able to get back to him.
As she was washing her hands, a striking redheaded woman with milky white skin and delicate features walked up behind her, hands on her narrow hips. Buffy, lost in her world of happy, nearly crashed into the girl when she spun around.
"Oh, excuse me," Buffy said, with a breathless half giggle, "I'm sorry."
"You're here with Angel?" the girl demanded, cutting right to the chase.
"Yes," Buffy answered.
"So, you're her," the redhead said sneering.
"Her?"
"The girl who thinks she took Angel off the market. I hope you don't really think he's going to stick around. What could you possibly offer a man like him?"
"Excuse me," Buffy said angrily, stepping around her and heading toward the door. She whipped around when Angel's ex-lover grabbed her arm. Yanking down hard, she removed her arm from the girl's grip, "Don't touch me."
"You may have him pussy whipped," she said, "But he'll be back in the field. I give him a week. Tops. You're just a little distraction."
"Get over him," Buffy said as she turned toward the door once more, "And do yourself a favor. Stay away from him."
Buffy proudly strutted from the bathroom, passing the long line of women standing in wait for an empty stall. She wanted to look over her shoulder to see if the girl was behind her, but couldn't dignify the bitch with that. Instead, she kept her eyes forward, not even allowing herself a glance to the side. She didn't want to see the other pretty girls who could have been in Angel's bed as recently as a couple of months before.
Reminding herself that he loved her, that he didn't want the other women, she nearly smacked into in a large body blocking damn near half the room. She looked up at him, her eyes traveling up a mountainous amount of muscle to reach his eyes.
"Excuse me," she said, thinking that must be the phrase for the night.
"You look like you could use some company," he said, slipping a giant paw to her hip.
"No," she answered, shaking her head, "I'm here with someone but thanks."
She slipped away, hurrying in any direction that he was not and scanned the crowd for Angel. She found him after a few moments, standing by the bar as he had promised talking to none other than that redheaded girl. What the hell? Did she vault across the room to him? Buffy made her way over and plastered herself to Angel's side.
"Hi baby," she said to Angel before glaring at the redhead.
"Hey love," he said, kissing her before turning back to the fuming female, "This is Brenda. You remember she left a message on the answering machine the other day?"
"Sorry we didn't answer," Buffy said with a cold smile, "We were busy. I'm sure you understand."
"Well, Angel," Brenda said, ignoring Buffy completely, "I hope you'll call me soon. A couple of the girls and I were just talking about how much we miss seeing you."
"That's nice," he said with a polite smile, "I don't really have a lot of time lately. Nice seeing you."
He guided Buffy away from her and looked down to see the expected irritation waiting for him.
"I think I really, really hate her," Buffy said through gritted teeth.
"I really love you," he said, "And I don't give a shit about her. Do you want to go?"
"No," Buffy said, moving closer and tipping her head up, "I want to give them all a little show."
"A show?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"Umhmmm," she said, kissing his neck, "I want them all to know that you're mine now."
"I am yours," he said, smoothing his hands over her back.
"Good," she said, grinding her hips against his. He leaned down, kissing her full on the lips and slipping his tongue inside her mouth as she parted her lips for him.
"Very good," he growled, palming her ass as he pulled her closer to him before kissing her again.
***
Part Fourteen "The Others"
***
,i never thought i'd be regretful of all my past success
Buffy wanted to claim him, wanted to mark her territory in front of all the women who were vying for his attention. As much as she was lost in those deep brown eyes, she could feel his ex-lovers staring, burning into her. She knew they were there, flinging silent insults at her. His hands moved on her body, sliding easily over the material of her dress, slipping to her arms, contacting with her flesh, making her shiver with delight. She kissed him, pulling his tongue into her mouth, sucking on it gently. He tasted so good, as if he kept a vial of lust on the tip of his tongue.
"Let's go," he whispered huskily against her mouth, his breath sweeping over her moist lips. He couldn't wait to get out of the line of fire, to move his lover to safer quarters. He felt slightly guilty because tonight had been more than just a date. He wanted her to see where he used to go, the things he used to do and who he used to do it with. He expected a run in with one or two of his former lovers but the room was freezing from the tension. Angel didn't like how they were looking at her, hating her, trying to make her less than she was. In fact, it made him angry. He couldn't believe the battling emotions that raged inside him and against him, batting around the large club. Her attempt to show the other women that they had lost seemed like a great idea for the first couple of minutes until it occurred to him that he would have done this with any woman he was with. He didn't want them to pile her with the others. She didn't belong there.
"Okay," she said, kissing him one more time as he intertwined his fingers with hers. As they headed for the door, he pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her slender fingers, relishing in her smile. He wondered if she would always have that innocence about her, that blushing happiness that he had never seen in a grown woman. There was a glow, a sort of aura of goodness and light. As they headed toward the door, he realized that he had been mistaken when he thought his ex-lovers could reduce to her their level. It just wasn't possible.
That's when he stopped, not paying attention to who was around him or where he was in the room. She stopped as well, looking at him curiously.
"What's wrong, Angel?" she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she wasn't sure if it was okay to smile or not.
"I love you," he said clearly, raising his voice slightly to make it over the music, looking intently into her eyes. His felt this swelling inside his chest, as if his heart could explode at any moment. Those three words seemed so inadequate for what he was feeling. They fell short of the emotions raging inside him.
"I love you too," she said, allowing the smile sweep across her face and brighten her eyes.
***
a dance remix, so i can catch the latest trend
Outside the door, he left her in the large, capable hands of the bouncer at the front door while he went to get the car. The man was massive, sitting on a barstool outside the door with a hard gleam in his eye as he eyed the ID of each person entering the club. She felt like a child left in the hands of a giant. Angel was not a small man, but the bouncer was enormous, looking like he had stumbled in from another planet. Buffy giggled a bit at the look the bouncer gave her when Angel left and he shook his bald head.
"He's a little overprotective," Buffy explained with a twinkle in her eye, watching Angel walk away to get the car. She stared at his ass, encased in those heavenly leather pants and parted her lips to take in a breath, before she was brought back to earth by the bouncer's reply.
"He never was before," he answered, handing an ID back to the next person in line. He glanced down at the petite blond to his right, thinking she didn't belong in a place like that. He understood why Angel liked her though. She was breathtaking and fresh with perfect skin that must be silk to the touch.
"Love makes you do the wacky," Buffy said with a happy sigh, leaning against the wall, oblivious to his inspection of her.
"Love, huh?" the bouncer said with a smirk as he accepted the next ID. He knew Angel. He didn't know him well but he had seen him come in and out of this place with many different women over the years. Hell, some nights he left with more than one. He wasn't best friends with the guy but he was pretty sure the word "love" wasn't in his vocabulary.
"Oh, don't worry," Buffy said, patting his large, bulky shoulder, "I know all about his past."
"No offense, honey," he answered, feeling oddly protective of the little blonde himself, "But you seem a little naive."
"Sure," she said, "I am naive, but I'm not stupid. When was the last time Angel went to get the car and asked you to watch out for a girl?"
"Uh...never, actually."
"That's what I thought," she said, giving him a little wink as Angel pulled up to the curb and jogged around the car to open the door. The bouncer looked on, ignoring the line of people for a moment as Angel made sure she got safely inside the car and leaned through the window to kiss her deeply, almost reverently, before circling the car again. He glanced up at the bouncer before he stepped in the car, giving him a nod of appreciation. Love? Well, he guessed anything was possible.
***
she made me feel i was fourteen again
"My place or yours?" Angel asked with a mischievous grin.
"Mine," she answered, returning his smile and scooting across the seat to be closer to him, "We haven't made love there yet."
"Okay," he said, glancing in his rearview mirror and found that one of Gunn's men was tailing them, but discreetly, keeping back as much as possible. He drove slowly, enjoying the drive until she absently placed one of her tiny hands on his thigh. He reached down and took her hand in his, squeezing gently. He couldn't believe that the tiniest touch would make him so aroused. Buffy Summers had no idea how she effected him - such power in such a small person. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, willing her not to look down. Of course, she did and her eyes widened when she noticed the growing bulge in the front of his leather pants.
"You're the one who brought up making love," he explained after a moment of silence, knowing he was busted. He had always been easily aroused, looking forward to a roll in the hay, but his new lover had the strangest effect on him. Just seeing her made him rock hard. Actually, thinking about her did that too. As time went on, he was able to control it...slightly, but not completely.
"Guess I did," she said, pulling their clasped hands to her mouth. She kissed his fingertips and knuckles as he struggled to concentrate on the road. Tentatively, she kissed the tip of his index finger before taking it in her mouth and sucking on it gently, swirling her tongue around it.
"God, Buffy," he gasped, "We're not going to make it home if you keep...doing that."
"Doing what?" she asked in feigned surprise.
"If we weren't being followed, I'd pull over and show you what I mean," he said in a low velvety voice, strained with need.
"Really?" she asked suggestively. Angel snuck a glance over at her just in time to see her tongue slip between her lips and tease the pads of his fingers.
"God," he groaned, shifting in his seat again, "I might have to rethink the leather pants in the future."
"Don't you dare," she warned, sliding her free hand up his thigh, "I love you in these."
"They turn you on?" he asked in a rasped voice, genuinely curious. He knew what effect they had on other women and had hoped that Buffy would feel the same way. The thought of her wanting him, enjoying an article of clothing, made his hard cock strain even more.
"Yes," she answered in a voice just above a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear.
***
but if you want it, girl, you've got it
it's all right here
Angel pressed Buffy against the side of the car once they got out and kissed her hard on the mouth, addicted to the taste of her. He loved the way her kisses started out shy and tentative, gaining boldness and momentum as they went along. He enjoyed the feel of her fingertips, slipping through his hair or sliding over his back. He took her hand and led her to her apartment, using his key to open the door. He yanked the door open and tossed his keys aside, not knowing or caring where they landed as he pressed her small body against the door to capture her lips again.
He slipped the spaghetti straps off of her shoulders and removed her strapless bra, tossing it aside in much the same fashion as he tossed his keys, kissing her neck and shoulder, sliding his tongue along her clavicle. She shivered as he moved down cupping her breasts with his large hands before lowering his head to lick and nibble on them. It didn't take him long to learn that she adored his concentration on her breasts. She moaned when he took one of her hard nipples between his teeth, pulling at it while pinching her other nipple between his fingers.
He knew he should move her away from the door and into the bedroom, but it seemed too far to travel. He pushed away the offending material of her dress and kissed along her abdomen, nipping, sucking and licking her skin while she warmed and stirred against that hard wooden door. He was thrilled she hadn't worn nylons as kissed along the waistband of her panties. He pressed his fingers into her sopping wet heat through the silk material, feeling her shudder and breathe more heavily. Slipping them down and off, he pulled one of her well formed legs over his shoulder, slightly more excited that she still wore her high heeled shoes.
"So beautiful," he murmured as her sex was open and bared to his gaze, gleaming with her arousal and emitting the glorious fragrance of lust.
"Shouldn't we...um...go..." Buffy stammered, a little nervous by his admiring gaze at her sex. She released a ragged groan as he licked her from top to bottom.
"Want to taste you now," he said, his voice rugged and guttural, "You taste...so good."
She sagged against the door as he lapped at her, snaking his tongue between her dripping folds and circling around her clit until she panted for more. One finger entered her as he licked and sucked, finally settling on her swollen nub. As he sucked it in between his lips, taking a hard pull and swiping at it with his tongue, she came, nearly sobbing with pleasure. He caught her as her knees buckled, flipping her other leg over his shoulder, drinking her escaping juices while her thighs pressed against his cheeks.
Finally, he released her and laid her down on the floor in the entry way. Still fully dressed, he bent to kiss her before he quickly shed his clothes and nestled between her thighs. He rubbed the tip of his cock over her wet pussy, delighting in her moans as he came in contact with her clit.
"Angel," she cried, "Please. Now."
He reached into his jacket for a condom and tore it open, rolling it over his throbbing cock quickly and expertly. Finally, he entered her, moving in and out in an even rhythm. She thrust back up to meet him, slamming her slender hips against his. He lifted her legs and tossed them over his shoulders and pressed down. She gasped as he moved even deeper inside her, hitting her most sensitive spot with every thrust from this new angle. She stretched around him, feeling as if she was on fire inside as he nudged her toward the edge. She nearly screamed as his large, hard cock slammed into her again and again. When her climax arrived, she came with his name tearing from her lips.
***
um, i wouldn't mind riding you bareback
Buffy and Angel finally made it to her bed. Her swollen lips, tousled hair and flushed skin made him hard again before they got to her room and he smiled at her blush when she realized he wanted more. He was insatiable. The way his large hands caressed her skin, making every part of her inch closer and beg for more was enough for her to feel that fire burning low in her belly again.
He turned out the light and watched her for a moment, outlined in the moonlight as she slipped off her shoes, kicking them away into a dark place in the room. She was so perfectly beautiful and ravishing and his. She bent over the bed to pull back the bedspread and sheet and he moved behind her. His cock was pressing against her ass as his hands moved over her hips and over the graceful arch of her back. She tensed immediately. Flipping the covers aside, she straightened afraid that he was already thinking about entering her beautifully rounded ass. He smoothed his hands over her stomach as he kissed behind her ear and down her neck.
"Don't worry, love," he said, feeling the tension in her limbs, "I would never do anything you don't want me to."
"I know," she whispered.
"Do you?" he asked, turning her around to face him. She nodded slowly, looking a bit uncertain, "Baby, I love you. If you say no to anything I will always stop. I only take what you give."
"Some things...are...just..."
"I know, love," he whispered, kissing her lightly and then more deeply until her tension eased away. He laid back on the bed and pulled her on top of him. He guided her to straddle him, enjoying the sight of her slender leg swinging over his hips.
"Do you like it when-"
"A woman's on top?" he asked, with a half smile, looking out at her with dark, lusty eyes.
"Yes."
"Yes," he echoed, "What do you like? What do you want?"
She blushed furiously, unsure of how to answer and keeping herself from touching him as she hovered over his muscled body. He took her hand and wrapped it around his thick cock, encasing her small hand with his own.
"It's okay to touch me, Buffy," he said, speaking with difficulty and arching slightly as he moved her hand over his turgid length, "Just tell me what you want."
"I can't just tell you," she said in a low voice that wasn't really meant to be sexy but was.
"Why not?" he asked, moving his hand off of hers to slip his fingers into her moist opening, "It's just us. Me and you, love. I would deny you nothing. All you have to say it...or do it."
Lowering his voice to carnal rumble, he continued, "Do you want me to touch you until you come into my hands? I can slide down and bury my face between your thighs. I love the way you quiver beneath my lips. Or do you want to slide my cock into your perfect, wet pussy? You feel so good. Tell me, lover. Tell me what you want."
"Inside me," she whispered, tracing his cock with her fingers, excited by his description of the possibilities. Little did she know, there were more. Many, many more. He nodded and unwrapped a condom. He helped her put it on him and then waited as she moved forward and positioned him against her. He felt her hands shaking and caressed her body all over to calm her.
"You're in control," he said, using all his will power not to move up and bury himself in her slick, tight channel. She moved down slowly, finally gracing him with her wet heat. He groaned in satisfaction, silently begging her to ride him long and hard. She began moving, gasping at how differently this position felt as she glided up slowly and pressed back down again, filling herself completely with him.
"What do you want?" she asked in little panting breaths.
"This is about you, baby," he answered, "Your pleasure is what's important now."
She leaned down to kiss him and moaned as she shifted inside her. Her chest contacted with his, her erect nipples scraping against his skin. He moaned with her as she began moving faster over him, rotating her hips ever so slightly, bucking him in deeper. She braced her hands on his chest, splaying her fingers and barely spanning him as she rode him until she came, her inner muscles fluttering around him.
She stopped her movements, feeling him still hard inside her. He looked up into her eyes, burning desire crossing the space between their faces. He gritted his teeth and waited, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips.
"What do you want?" she asked again when her shudders of ecstasy passed.
"Keep. Moving. Please," he asked, nearly begging her. She rose and fell on him and he began rising to meet her.
"Harder," he gasped, "Please, love, harder."
She slammed down, grunting as he burned in and out, sliding against her inner walls, filling her completely. He watched her breasts moving over him and reached up to touch them, sweeping his thumbs over her nipples. He moved up against her harder as he felt his own climax closing in and felt like erecting a monument to her perfect, tight pussy. She watched his face as he came and followed closely with her own release as his face contorted in pleasure.
***
Part Fifteen "Rushing In"
***
it's time to throw off those chains
Buffy felt enveloped in love and warmth as Angel spooned around her curves and pulled her close to him. She caressed the large arm that circled her waist and was as close to purring as she could possibly be.
"Is this how it was with your other lovers?" she asked, after a moment of contented silence, pretending nonchalance. Angel growled into the curve of her shoulder. She felt his entire body grow tense and she waited for a moment. The silence was deafening and he remained very still behind her.
"I want to know," she added quietly and turned over to face him. She expected to see anger on his handsome face but was met with anguish instead.
"No, Buffy," he answered, quietly slipping from her arms and out of bed. She watched his nude form move to the window, outlined by the dim light spilling through the large pane of glass before him, "This is not how it was with my other lovers."
"How was it then?" she asked, sitting up in bed, shifting her eyes over his muscled body. She wanted to get out of bed and go to him, but didn't.
"It was raw and base, nothing like what I have with you. I make love to you," he said, "I fucked them. I brought them to my place or I went to their homes and I fucked them, then I left or asked them to leave. There were only a very few women I actually spent the whole night with."
He paused and she waited, looking at his shadowed body, sculpted back. He took a shuddered breath and continued, "I told you I'm not...I wasn't a good person, Buffy. I used their bodies and they used mine. That was it. Just sex. Nothing else. You're the only woman I've ever made love to in my life."
"You are a good person," she whispered after a long, painful silence.
"Why do you always have so much faith in me?" he asked, turning to face her.
"Why do you always have so much faith in me?" she echoed, turning the question on him.
"Because I love you," he said, slightly confused.
"Yep," she said, slipping from the covers to move silently across the room to him, "Exactly, you big dummy. You don't get it, do you? I know who you used to be. I didn't ask you to make you feel bad. I asked you because your past is a part of you and I want to know everything."
"I just want to leave that behind," he said, "That's not who I am anymore."
"I know, baby," she said, moving into his arms, "I know."
***
i flew over the cuckoo's nest and
i'm never ever coming back because
i am crazy just like you
"Waffles!" she gasped with excitement, moving into the kitchen, drowning in one of his shirts. She kissed his bare back before he turned around to meet her lips. She loved that she always caught him cooking for her in the morning with no shirt on. It made her hungry in more ways than one.
"I ran out to the store this morning," he said, voice deep and rough as it always was in the morning. She loved the sexy abrasion that rumbled through the air, "I thought I'd make you breakfast to make up for our fight last night."
"That wasn't a fight," she said, picking up a fresh strawberry and slipping it slowly between her lips. She bit in slowly and Angel actually groaned out loud, turning back to the waffle maker he had never used before that day. After swallowing the bittersweet fruit she finished her sentence, "The thing the other night - that was a fight. Last night was an emotional conversation."
"Well," he said, kissing her again, unable to resist tasting her, "then this is for both...things."
He set a container of homemade whipped cream on the table along with the strawberries and went back for the waffles. She sat down at the table as he loaded her plate with a Belgian waffle, loading it with strawberries and whipped cream before sitting down and preparing his own.
"Mmmm," she said as she took her first bite, "The perfect yum."
"Glad you like it," he said.
Glancing across the table, she saw the Sunday newspaper sitting there and flipped through it, pulling out the Classified section.
"What are you looking for in there?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye, "Looking for another guy already?"
"Oh yeah," she said, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure I'll find a couple of guys who are as sexy as you are and will make me waffles in the morning. No actually, I need to find a new apartment. My lease is up in a couple of months and they're hiking up the rent again."
"Really?" he said, chewing slowly and trying to concentrate on his food while insane thoughts of asking Buffy to move in with him flooded through his mind.
"Yeah," she said, "They're raising it $75 bucks a month. That's extortion! I can definitely find a better place to live where I don't have to pay an arm and a leg."
"You could..." he said, trying not to choke on his words, "...uh...move...with me."
"Huh?" she said, her eyes widening as she released her hold on her fork and the newspaper at the same time. The fork made a loud clanging sound as it ricocheted off the edge of her plate and bounced on the wooden table top. She didn't notice those sounds because her heart was slamming in her chest and making an awful racket.
"Stupid idea," he muttered, "Sorry."
"Move in with you?" she said, staring at him. She missed the "stupid idea" part. She was still back on the previous stilted sentence.
"We spend every night together anyway," he said, taking a drink of his milk, wishing the lump in his throat would go away, "I just thought...you know...we could save in rent and..."
"You really would want me to live with you?"
"Well, yeah," he said, shrugging in an attempt to appear more casual, "Why not?"
"I can't think of a single reason," she said, with a smile.
"You mean..."
"Umhmm," she answered, climbing out of her chair to climb into his. She flipped a leg over his lap and straddled him, "I'll move in with you."
He pulled her into his arms and released a strangled sigh. Falling in love was one thing, but asking a woman to move in with him was something entirely different. All of those things seemed to be impossible and frankly, inconceivable a few months ago. He never would have believed even three months ago that he would be making breakfast for a girl and holding his breath while he asked her to move in with him.
"But," she said after she kissed him soundly, "You have to let me pay half the rent."
"Are you kidding me? Of course you aren't paying half the rent," he said.
"Great," Buffy complained, "Now you're going to go all caveman on me."
"How many cavemen know how to make homemade whipped cream?" he asked, scooping a bit of the sweet, fluffy mixture on his index finger. She sucked his finger into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly as she relished the taste.
"Just you," she said, kissing him gently.
"Caveman, huh?" he grunted, pushing his chair back and standing, holding Buffy against him. He swept the dishes from the table and heard her moan in protest as their lovely breakfast clattered to the floor. He laid her on the now bare table and yanked open the silk shirt she had stolen from him. He ground his arousal into her as he sucked one rosy nipple into his mouth. She released a needy moan and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Damn, he loved that woman.
***
how happy we'll be
"Whipped cream?" Willow asked, on Monday as they were munching on their lunch. Buffy loved that standing Monday date she had with her best friend. Even if they couldn't make time the rest of the week, they always made sure they had that one meal together, unless Willow had an emergency surgery which did happen from time to time.
"Homemade," Buffy answered after she finished chewing her bite of turkey sandwich.
"And he smeared it..." Willow asked, taking a gulp of her soda.
"Yep," Buffy said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
"But weren't you...you know, all sticky?"
"Oh yeah," Buffy answered, blushing in spite of herself.
"Wow," Willow said, "Xander and I have never...I mean we...never mind."
"I highly suggest it," Buffy said, still fully red. She quickly changed the subject as she felt her body warming to the memory, "Anyway, so that's everything really. I'm moving in."
"Don't take this the wrong way, Buff," Willow said hesitantly, "But isn't it kinda soon. I mean you just slept with him for the first time a couple of days ago. Shouldn't you wait awhile?"
"Yeah, I should," Buffy answered, "But Will, I really don't want to. I can't explain it but I just want to be with him all the time. I can't stop thinking about him. I know this is probably not a good idea, but I just couldn't say no."
"Well, Xander moved in with me," Willow said, "You're moving in with Angel. Guess we just have to wait for Cordelia and Doyle to take the plunge."
"Poor Doyle," Buffy said, in mock sympathy, "She'll probably throw half of his clothes away."
"Gotta feel sorry for anyone in Queen C's clutches," Willow said, sharing a knowing smile with her friend, "So, when are you moving in?"
"Angel wants me to move in as soon as possible, but my lease isn't up for another couple of months," Buffy answered, "I'm not sure. I guess it doesn't matter, really."
"Oh, okay, little Miss Nonchalant," Willow blurted, "You know you want to move in today. I bet you're already rearranging his furniture in your mind."
"Yeah," Buffy admitted, grinning, "But if you had those waffles this morning, you'd be the same way."
"I don't think it's the waffles," Willow said, grinning back.
***
why does everything i do confound you?
"You did what?" Gunn shouted, "I knew you had it bad, but Angel you can't just move a girl like her into your apartment and-"
"A girl like her?" Angel said angrily, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"She's innocent and doesn't know shit about the world, Angel," he answered, "If she moves in, she's going to expect you to commit to her."
"What part of this relationship are you missing?" Angel demanded, "Have I not made it clear that I am in love with her?"
"Perfectly clear," he said, "But I hope you've done sowed whatever oats you planned on sowing, cause one slip and you'll lose her."
"Why do I even talk to you?" Angel groaned, "I *am* done. I only want to be with her now. Remember when you said I should marry her the other day? Did your brain start leaking between then and now?"
"I know what I said, man," Gunn said, leaning over the desk to his friend, "But I really didn't mean right now. She's sweet and we all love her. I'm not telling you not to be with her, but I just want to make sure you know what you're doing."
"I know," Angel said, "Trust me."
"I'm not the one who should be trusting you," Gunn said quietly.
"Anyway," Angel said, clearing his throat, "What's up with our case?"
"Penn is awaiting trial. Apparently, Buffy's uncle has him trapped in there without bail."
"Has he admitted to anything?"
"Not a damn thing," Gunn said, "He won't say who hired him. He won't even admit he knows Buffy's name. All we can be sure of is that he's not the one who snipped her break line because he was rotting in his little cell at the time. So, there's no way to prove the two incidents are connected right now."
"So we don't know anything?" Angel asked, exasperated, "Gunn, they have to be connected."
"Of course they are," he answered, "We just have to find out who's behind all this."
"Great. This is just wonderful," Angel said, leaning back in his chair, "I wish I had stayed in bed with Buffy instead of coming here."
"I bet you do," Gunn said, laughing.
***
you've got to stand on your own
Buffy left the gallery in Anya's anal but capable hands at the end of the week to see her doctor for a yearly exam and pregnancy test. Originally, she thought about asking Angel to come along but decided against it. She went alone, not even telling Willow about the appointment. She wasn't sure how she would react to the news and was even more confused about what she wanted the news to be. She didn't even know if she wanted a baby or not, but there was a little ache in her heart that just wouldn't go away.
She was even more worried about Angel's reaction. What if he changed his mind about her if she was pregnant? What if he was upset if she wasn't? Everything seemed so clear, so perfectly fine until she actually went to the doctor's office. It was like reality set in the moment she crossed the threshold. When he told her that the results came up negative, she fell into a torrent of sobs. Half relieved, half devastated, she wept on there on the examining table. The doctor patted her shoulder and tried to soothe her.
"You can try again, honey," he said gently, "Of course, we can always test both of you for sterility as well."
"No," she said, sniffing, "I want to start taking the Pill."
"Okay," he said, fully confused, "Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Yes," she answered, wiping her face, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break down like that."
"That's quite alright," he said with a gentle smile.
***
she's on time, she's on time
she's on time, hallelujah
she's on time
and it's the safest time of the month, they say, for love
Buffy really, really wished she had not planned the appointment on Friday. Cordelia was having yet another party and Angel had a private showing with a new buyer. The man asked for the appointment after he got off work that night, so Angel was going to meet her at Cordy's. When she arrived, he wasn't there yet and she felt her eyes tearing up again. This was so stupid and yet, she knew she wouldn't feel better until she told him the news. To top it all, she started her period a week early when she got home.
His possible reactions were still running through her mind as they had all day. What if he jumped up and down with happiness that she wasn't pregnant? What if he only asked to move in because he thought she was?
What if, what if...
When she walked into the living room, Darla was there, looking vibrant and coldly beautiful, hanging on the arm of some guy Buffy had never seen before. He was very handsome and seemed anxious to leave. Buffy wondered if he was anxious to leave her or just the party? The part of her that didn't like or trust the woman made guess the former. She went to the kitchen to get a drink, chiding herself for being mean, if only in her mind and nearly collided with Riley.
"Hi Buffy," he said, "Are you okay? You look upset."
"I'm fine," she said firmly, walking around him to get to the water glasses.
"Did Angel do something to upset you?"
"No," Buffy said, angrily, yanking a glass from the cabinets, "Angel didn't do anything, not that it's any of your business."
"Sorry," he said, holding up his hands defensively, "I'm just concerned about you. You look really upset."
"She's no longer your concern," Angel said from behind him. The boy flinched with the sound of his voice, feeling irritation and disgust set deep into his stomach.
"Yes, she is," Riley answered, turning to face him, "She's obviously upset and since you weren't here, someone has to be worried about her."
"Riley," Buffy said with a heavy sigh, "Please don't. I can't handle this right now."
"What's wrong, love?" Angel asked, brushing past Buffy's ex. There was definitely something about that boy that he didn't like. He wasn't sure what it was but he was sure he didn't trust him and he didn't want him anywhere near his lover.
She took his hand, leaving her empty glass on the counter and led him outside to the patio. She gestured for him to sit down on one of the metal mesh chairs and lowered herself into another.
"I went to the doctor today," she said.
"Okay," he said, taking her hands, "What did you find out?"
"I'm not p-pregnant," she answered with her eyes brimming with tears. Angel sat there for a second staring at her and taking in the news. He felt a simultaneous rush of disappointment and joy. He had almost gotten used to the idea of her having his child. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair and rocking her as she began to cry.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Are you..." Buffy said, muffled against his chest, "Do you still want me to move in with you?"
"Did you really think that was the reason I asked you to move in with me?" Angel asked, "I love you. I asked you because I wanted to be with you, baby."
"You haven't changed your mind?"
"Of course not."
"I don't even know why I'm so upset," she said, pressing her face against his shirt, "I thought I didn't want it and then I did and I just-"
"It's okay," he said, "I feel the same way."
"You do?"
"Sure," he answered, "Half of me really wanted to have a child with you but I was really nervous about it. I didn't know what I wanted."
"Me either."
"So what do you want to do now?" he asked, smoothing his hands over her back.
"I'm on the Pill," she answered, "We're really not ready."
"No," he said, "We aren't but that doesn't mean we can't have children later."
"I know," she said and then lifted her face looking at him questioningly, "You want children?"
"With you? Oh yeah. Someday," he answered and kissed her gently. As their kiss deepened they didn't hear the door sliding closed behind them. So focused on each other neither noticed the person who had been standing there, listening to the whole conversation.
***
TBC...
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