By Tango
E-MAIL: Tangofic@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: Nope. I still don't own them.
SPOILERS: Completely AU. Everyone's just plain ‘ole human.
PAIRING: B/A, of course!
DISTRIBUTION: Eleni Angel's site (www.sphosting.com/yeye/), My site (www.sunflower.com/~tango), Starrkitty's Adult B/A Archive (www.starrkitty.150m.com), Forever, Always and Then Some (Tara's site), Duck's Babble Board and my yahoogroups. Anyone else who houses my fic is welcome to it. All others, please let me know and then, of course you can have it.
FEEDBACK: Please let me know if you think I should continue this. I'm not sure about it yet.
LYRICS: All lyrics are from the Counting Crows
RATING: R? For now.
DEDICATION: For Eleni Angel. I hope this meets the challenge. I don't follow directions too well. *G* (I will post the challenge at the end of the fic.) And to trammie.
AN: Before you ask: I plan on continuing my other stories. I promise. The muse still isn't cooperating with me. At all.
***
Part One
//it doesn't get much worse than this//
Most police officers go through their entire careers and never even discharge their weapons. Even in big cities like LA, New York and Chicago, there are police officers who have never released a bullet outside of a shooting range. Detective Liam Angelus wished he was one of those people.
He wasn't.
Three people had lost their lives while he was on duty, by his hands. He shuddered every time he thought about it. He cringed to think that their deaths had made him a hero and spurred on his success, causing him to become the youngest detective on the force. That's when they started calling him "Angel." It sounded like sacrilege coming from these people who barely knew him. It had always been his nickname from his mother and they made into something bloody, something that tasted like death when it came off their lips.
That was all before he became Hank Summers' partner.
Hank was well known on the force and highly respected. Angel knew very little about him for the first few months they worked together but as time passed the details began to leak into daily life. Summers was married with one child. He seemed to care about his family though he rarely talked about them. He had a dry sense of humor that occasionally bordered on offensive, or would have to most people, but it took more than the usual amount of crassness to offend Angel.
After the first few weeks, it became clear why they were made partners. Hank had been forced to kill a man twenty years before and because of that he immediately picked up on the callousness that was growing inside Angel.
*It stays with you, boy,* Hank had said one night while they were on a stake out, *You never get over killing someone. Don't let the guys get to you though. They laugh about it because they're afraid of it and jealous at the same time. Remember that. You saved lives that night, that's what made you a hero.*
Hank was right, of course, but he felt like he would never wash that blood off his hands. Every time he heard the name "Angel," it was like he killed them again.
He was beginning to think that his life had plateaued into what it was going to be for the rest of his life. He would get by with whatever female acquaintance he found, which were many, would carry on affairs that were string-free and never let any of them into his heart. He would do his job every day and go home every night, stopping off occasionally to drink himself into a stupor and that would be it.
It seemed like a passable existence until Hank invited him over for dinner. His immediate instinct was to say ‘no.' He didn't want to carry his gloom from the work day into their lives but eventually he agreed when he couldn't think of a single reason to give Hank to not come.
He headed over to the Summers' house at 4:00 PM on Sunday afternoon and trudged up to the door, taking a deep breath before he knocked. He used to be so good at this. He used to be a pro at joking around and melding with other people. Now all he could think of was if he could carry on enough passable table conversation to get himself by.
The door opened after a few moments and standing in front of him in mid laugh was the most beautiful seventeen year old girl he had ever seen. She had golden blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and a tiny hand with perfectly manicured nails pushed open the screen door to let him in.
"Xander!" she shouted, speaking to someone else in the house, giggling like the school girl she was. She kept her smile as she turned to him, "You must be Daddy's partner."
"Yes," he said, swallowing harshly at the sight of her and the sound of her voice. She was exquisite and he had to make himself look away as she stepped back to let him in, trying to miss the swing of her narrow hips. Instead, he looked down and caught sight of her bare feet on the hardwood floor. Her toenails were painted a sparkly purple color and he felt the strangest urge to kiss them. "I'm Liam."
"Hi Liam. I'm Buffy," she said, almost shyly. She shut the door behind him and gestured at the other two teenagers in the living room, a shy little redheaded girl and a gangly dark haired boy, "Those are my friends, Willow and Xander. Guys, this is Daddy's partner, Liam."
"Hello, *Liam*," Xander sneered, eyeing him viciously, as if he were a serial killer rather than a police detective.
"Hi!" Willow announced brightly, waving a little as she hopped to her feet, "So you're a detective like Mr. Summers, right? I didn't know they could be that young."
"Uh...special circumstances," Angel muttered, shifting uncomfortably.
"Whatever," Buffy scoffed, waving her hand at him dismissively, "He's a *huge* hero. Even Daddy says that he saved a bunch of people's lives. They promoted him because of that. Come on, Liam. I'll show you where Daddy's burning hamburgers."
Angel followed Buffy through the house, into the kitchen where he met a very pleasant Mrs. Summers and out to the backyard where Hank was cursing at a barbecue pit. He thought Buffy would go back to her friends right away but she led Angel right up to her father, padding barefoot through the soft grass and bumped her father's hip with hers playfully.
"Hi pumpkin," Hank said, kissing her forehead. Angel struggled to breathe through the smoke rising up from the pit and through his nearly unchecked very, very wrong lust for a seventeen year old girl.
"I found your partner," she said, smiling shyly at Angel.
"Hey Angel," Hank said, reaching out to shake his hand, "Glad you could make it."
"Thanks," Angel said, peering uneasily at the burning patties on the grill, "Uh...do you need help?"
***
//she don't deserve this
she is a flower and i am a flower
and we are alone//
Despite Angel's better judgement, he started making every excuse in the book to appear at Hank's front door after that day. They began watching baseball games together over beer on the weekends and the amusing part of it all was that Angel never really liked baseball. It was a frightfully boring sport but when Buffy came bounding through the room, regarding their television choice with disdain or just passing through, he knew that hours of watching men run around a baseball diamond was more than worth it.
He wasn't even sure when he noticed it, but she started making excuses to come into whatever room he was in. Sometimes, she passed through four or five times during the game, thankfully disrupting the room, the air, the pace of his heartbeat. She started batting her eyes at him and smiling at him *like that.* And when she started calling him "Angel," rather than Liam, it rolled off her pink lips like a sigh, like a promise, a vow and all of a sudden his name was no longer dipped in the blood of those deaths. She had returned it to its former status; it was a loving caress again.
He wasn't sure at which point he actually admitted to himself that he was falling in love with her but one night when he was leaving, she was sitting on the front steps and as he realized she was crying, he knew without a doubt that he loved her. She wiped her face quickly with the back of her hand, unable to hide the wetness on her cheeks, and forced a fake smile, "Hi Angel."
"What's wrong?" he asked, settling on the step next to her. Buffy looked away, focusing on the grass rather than him. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. The most beautiful man ever to grace the planet, who probably thought of her as an immature little girl, happened to walk out when she was sniffling and crying. She wished she was an ostrich so she could bury her head in the ground and pretend he wasn't there.
"Nothing," she muttered, "I'm fine. Thanks."
"Something's bothering you," he prodded gently, "I'm a good listener."
Angel had suspected for some time that there was trouble in the Summers' household. As of late, Hank had been becoming more and more bitter at work, speaking of his family less and whenever Angel came over Joyce was rarely in the same room. Angel knew it would only be a matter of time before the bitterness flaring off of Hank in palatable waves seeped into Buffy. He wanted to rush in and preserve her innocence, but it wasn't his place. He couldn't protect her and he knew it.
But God, he wanted to. For weeks his dreams had been filled with those deep green eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, even before he had ever seen her cry. In the middle of the night, they fell, streaming across her cheeks. Sometimes he was able to brush them away, lightly swiping them with his thumbs. He imagined touching her silky skin, gliding his fingers over the soft line of her jaw, over her round cheek. In some of the dreams he was allowed to pull her into his arms and he would promise over and over that he would keep her safe.
"It's stupid," she said, shivering slightly in the night air, "And you have better things to do than talk to me."
"You're cold," he said, craning his neck to try and catch her eyes, but she kept her gaze planted firmly in the surrounding foliage.
"You can take it," she replied saucily. For the last six months, she would have given anything for Angel to give her the time of day. Now that she was all in pieces on the front porch he thought he could pity her and lower himself to speak to her? The mere idea of his sympathy pissed her off.
"No," he said, shrugging out of his leather jacket and putting it around her bare shoulders, "I mean, you look cold."
"Thanks," she said, turning toward him finally and looking at him questioningly. Even in the dark, she could see the caring coming from his dark eyes and she was slightly more than confused.
"Sure," he said, leaning in and kissing her temple softly. He surprised himself at the gesture and stood quickly before he could touch her again. Struggling for something to say he pulled out his wallet and extracted a crisp, white business card. He handed it to her and backed away a couple of steps, "If you ever need me, call."
***
//wait for the hunger to come//
"Where'd you get that?" Willow asked the next day at school as Buffy sauntered into the library.
"Angel," Buffy answered. Her hand was tucked inside the pocket and she shifted her fingers over the edge of his business card.
"What?" Xander shouted, "You know him for ten minutes and you're exchanging clothing?"
"Children," Giles said, ducking out from his office, "Although I am thrilled that you find comfort in lounging in the library in your free time, you might pretend that you are here for studies."
"Sorry Giles," Buffy said, shooting him a bright smile, "Anyway, Xander I have known him for *months* and I was cold."
"You live in California, Buffy," Xander retorted, rolling his eyes, "It was balmy last night! There was no need for the giving of very expensive leather jackets that are way too big and could-"
"Xander!" Willow shouted, clamping a hand over her mouth and then whispering harshly, "Could you let her finish the story?"
"Angel, Angel, Angel," Xander muttered heading toward the library doors, "Why does every conversation have to revolve around that freak?"
"He thinks I'm a little girl," Buffy whispered, not for the sake of Giles, but to keep him from hearing, "He doesn't even talk to me."
"But you like him," Willow protested, "And jacket! He gave you his jacket!"
"He's a honey," she sighed, slumping in her seat dreamily, "When he's around, it's like the lights dim everywhere else. You know how it's like that with some guys?"
"Yeah," Willow said, looking over at the library doors still swinging from Xander's exit, "I do."
***
//dreaming of wrong and right
wrapped in grace and in sin//
The following Wednesday night, Hank invited Angel over for lasagna night and baseball. He searched his mind for any reason not to go, but in the end he knew that he was going to be there. He walked in without knocking as he had been for months and found Buffy curled up in Hank's reclining chair, her face scrunched up over a history book.
"Hey," he said, startling her. She looked up at him in surprise, obviously not knowing he was coming tonight and then looked back down at the leather jacket that had become an integral part of her outfit in the last couple of days. Starting to pull it off, she said, "Here you can have your jacket back."
"Looks better on you," he said in his sexy rumbling voice and tossed her a tiny half smile that made her heart bubble over. She sat there in shock and listened to him enter the kitchen. His voice sounded far away as he greeted her mother and commented on the smell of the food. She could almost predict where he was standing and what he was doing after months of watching him. He had slowly become a part of their family and she pictured him setting the table while he chatted easily with her mother. Groaning at herself in frustration, Buffy gathered her books and headed up to her room to deposit them. No man that sexy should be allowed to come over for dinner only twice a week and fill her dreams all seven.
Dinner was a disaster. Buffy ended up leaving the table early when her parents began arguing at the table. She couldn't believe that they weren't able to restrain themselves at least until Angel left. She lowered herself to the ground in front of the oak tree out front and wished it would swallow her whole. She had never been that humiliated in her life and was beside herself with panic when Angel walked out the front door and made his way toward her.
"Hey," he said, offering his hand, "Come on."
"Are you under the impression that I'm going somewhere with you?" she snapped, but accepted his hand anyway. She couldn't believe how large his hands were and gentle, how hers seemed to get lost in his.
"Ice cream," he said matter of factly, pulling his hand away from hers quickly, "I already told your parents."
"Do you think I'm some three year old who can be appeased with ice cream when Mommy and Daddy get in a fight?" she demanded. She had no idea why she was so angry with Angel, but she couldn't help it. There was so much irritation and frustration inside her and he was treating her like a child again. It made her insane.
"*I* want ice cream," he said, unfazed by her outbursts, "and I thought you might want to come along. Was I wrong?"
"No," she admitted, falling in step behind him. He opened the passenger side of his convertible with a dramatic sweep of one of his large hands and smiled as he said, "My lady."
"Thank you, kind sir," she said, giggling despite herself as she sat down.
She tried to pay attention to the road ahead of them, her ice cream, anything to keep herself from looking at him during their little trip, especially since she had to continually convince herself that it wasn't a date. Buffy was aware, even though she didn't want to admit it, that the terms "police officer" and "jail bait" were mutually exclusive. There was just no way he would be interested in her. And yet, every once in awhile, she could catch him looking at her or stopping himself from saying something. Her seventeen year old mind raced with what those sentences could have been.
When they reached her house, he walked her up to the door and she saw that her father's car was gone. She knew he was probably "out for a drive" again. The lights were off in the house which meant her mother was pretending to be asleep. She sighed loudly as she mounted the front steps. Turning to face Angel, she found him standing so close to her that she had to crane her neck to look into his handsome face.
"I have to go," he said, not moving from his spot as he looked into her vulnerable green eyes. If she wasn't quite so lovable, just a tad less beautiful or slightly unravishing, he might have been able to walk away, but she was all those things and much more.
"‘Kay," she whispered, moving her lips very, very slowly over the single syllable. She curled her fingers around the cuff of the leather jacket she wore and kept her eyes on his, holding her breath while she waited for him to move away.
"I really can't be around you, Buffy," he said, looking down on her, so close he could smell her perfume and her shampoo, "Because when I am..."
"Hey, no big," Buffy pffted, looking down at her feet but seeing his instead, "Water...over the bridge, under the bridge..."
"When I am, I can ever think about is how badly I want to kiss you," he said, rushing the words out in a single breath, running them together.
"...over the dam," she continued until his words registered and she snapped her head up to look at him in shock, "Kiss me?"
"I'm older than you," he whispered, "and this can't ever...I better go."
"H-how much older?" Buffy asked quietly, still meeting his eyes.
"I should..." he said, tapering off. She had that look in her eyes that often blinked through his mind during the day, that look that made him wonder if there actually was real love in the world.
"Go, you said," she whispered, stepping forward. She turned her head up and they leaned into each other at the same time, meeting lips gently at first. He wound his fingers through her hair as he urged her lips apart and slipped his tongue into her warm mouth. He was certain he heard her sigh as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her tiny body delightfully against his.
He meant to stop it. He really did but she tasted so sweet and for the first time since he killed those drug dealers a year ago, he thought he could find peace. Passion rose inside their kiss and he pulled apart finally, breathing harshly.
"What? What is it?" she gasped through swollen lips, "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," he said, stepping away, "I shouldn't've done that."
"Angel..." she said, her voice threading through his skin and taking root in his veins.
"Look, Buffy, this can't..."
"Ever be anything," she breathed bitterly, "I know. You're like 10 years older than me, right?"
"Seven," he said quietly, "I'm twenty-five. It's not that I don't want..."
"I get it," she said harshly. She didn't mean for it to come out like that, but the idea of losing him when she'd only just gotten him made her blood turn cold. No other boy ever kissed her like that. No other boy ever made her feel like that either, like she was alive for the first time, burning all over and cold at the same time.
"Your father would kill me," he said, "I could lose my job. I just gotta...I gotta walk away from this."
"I know," she replied dejectedly, "Me too...One of us has to go here and since I live here..."
"I know," he said, licking his lips as he looked down at her. Once again, he dipped down and captured her lips. Knowing it had to be the last time, he allowed himself one final taste of her. Again their emotions got the better of them and the kiss became more passionate. He felt her fingers moving through his hair as they plunged in each other's mouths. Angel was about to break away and make a run for it when it died down and they stepped away from each other reluctantly. Giving him a sad little smile, she opened her front door and went inside.
***
//she's trying to be a good girl
and give ‘em what they want//
They were halfway into their second baseball season as partners, when Buffy came trotting through the living room wearing a mini skirt that should have been outlawed in several states. Angel nearly choked on the beer he was sipping when she came in - beautiful, tiny and eighteen. Her golden, toned legs were blurred to his vision for a second and he glanced at Hank with alarm as she told him she was leaving. He was actually letting her leave like that? The slice of skin visible between her shirt and skirt was sending sirens off in his brain. It was all he could do not demand that she change clothes. I mean, someone could *see* her!
Instead, he took a long pull of his beer and scowled at the baseball game. He fucking hated baseball and now the woman - correction, *girl* - of his dreams was sauntering out the door and climbing into - who's godamn car was that?
"Don't even think about it," Hank said, shaking him out of his thoughts.
"About what?"
"Don't play innocent with me," Hank said, eyeing his partner severely, "I'm not stupid, Angelus. I know you've had a hard-on for my daughter for a long time. I'm fully aware of how beautiful she is as I know you're fully aware that she is only eighteen years old. You're my friend, so let me make this plain - You ever touch her and I'll kill you."
"I wouldn't-"
"Yes, you would," Hank said, cutting him off and turning back to the television, "But you better fuckin' not."
Angel most certainly would. In fact, most of his dreams were filled with just how he would. He could already taste the sweet salt of her skin, could already feel her hair slipping between his fingers again. He might have been able to resist though. He told himself that he might have been able to carry on his miserable existence without her in it if that same evening she hadn't called his cell phone as he was driving home.
"Angel?" she whispered into the phone. He strained to hear her over the rushing of cars and wind. Pressing the phone closely to his ear he said, "Buffy?"
"Don't say my name!" she shouted and then realized it was too late, "Please say you're not at my house."
"I'm in my car, Buffy," he said, pulling over and gripping the steering wheel as he tried not to panic yet. Her voice sounded strained and he was sure he heard the familiar ring of tears there. He cleared his throat and continued, "By myself. What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"
"Yes," she whimpered, "Can you come get me?"
"Where are you?" he demanded, starting his car and putting it in gear. She gave him directions to a dance club ten minutes away and Angel's car lurched onto the road as he pulled a U-turn in the center of the busy LA street. Street laws be damned, he thought as he pressed on the gas, he was going to make it there in five.
***
Part Two
***
//i am covered in skin
no one gets to come in
pull me out from the inside
i am folded and unfolded and unfolding
i am colorblind//
Angel pressed on the gas and drove at a dangerous speed until he reached the club. He flashed his badge at the doorman who made a shocked gasping sound as he passed by. Behind him, he vaguely heard the sound of the bouncer asking him why he was there, but he ignored it. He had no desire to waste time while Buffy was in danger.
He stopped just inside the door and scanned the room, which was filled with hundreds of gyrating bodies and exposed flesh. Walking quickly through the room, he wound his way around them searching for one tiny blonde tossed somewhere in the throng. He felt something akin to a growl edging its way to his vocal chords as he searched for her and found nothing. For all he knew she was dying in a corner and none of the hormonally imbalanced crowd even noticed she was there.
Finally he spotted her, sitting in a chair in the far corner of the club, half turned to the wall. He picked up the pace, nearly knocking over a teenaged boy in the process.
"Buffy?" he asked, towering over her for a second before crouching in front of her chair, "Are you okay?"
"Can we leave?" she croaked, just loud enough to be heard over the pumping music. He leaned in closer and waited for her to look at him, but she didn't. She kept her eyes trained on the floor in front of her, keeping her eyes from meeting his. Finally, he reached up and hooked a finger under her chin. His hands were shaking as she reluctantly allowed him to turn her face to meet his.
"Oh my God," he said through gritted teeth as he looked at her. Dried blood was on her mouth and chin, looking as if it had trickled from her lips and a dark bruise was already decorating the side of her face, marring her perfect skin. He stood and took her hand, helping her to her feet and she hissed in pain, which caused him to notice the bruises on her wrists. He fought to remain in control as he demanded, "Who did this to you?"
"Can we just go?" she whimpered.
"No," he said, gently holding her shoulders as he met her eyes, "We cannot just go. I want to know what happened and who did this to you."
"A boy from school asked me out on a date. Cameron. He's on the swim team," she started, taking a deep breath, "He started kissing me and when I wanted to stop he wouldn't. Then he...started...you know..."
"No," he growled, feeling his whole body shaking in frustration, "I don't know."
"Touching me," she forced out, feeling stinging tears escaping from her eyes. She didn't want to have this conversation with Angel. She couldn't stand the thought of him thinking less of her because of this. All she wanted was to leave the club before Cameron came back. Looking into his eyes, she saw he was not going to let it go until she told him everything. Taking another deep breath, she continued, "I kept asking him to stop and trying to move away but he held me there."
She held out her wrist to show him how he had held her there and he took her hand, caressing it gently. Drifting his thumb over the top of her hand, he waited for her continue, "When he wouldn't stop, I screamed and pulled away but he grabbed me again, so I kicked him between the legs. Then h-he hit me."
"What happened after that?" he asked, shifting his fingers over the side of her face, "How did you get away to call me?"
"I hit him back," she said, feeling the urge to giggle all of a sudden at the look of shock on Angel's face, "I think I gave him a bloody nose."
"You gave him a bloody nose?" he echoed and watched as she nodded, smiling and wincing at the same time. He felt a grin twitching over his lips and sighed, "That's my girl. Where is he now?"
"No, Angel," she said, "Just wanna leave."
"Where, Buffy?" She cast her eyes towards the men's room and he catapulted a "wait here" over his shoulder as he headed in that direction. He wasn't going to take one step out of the door until he knew that little date raping piece of shit was clear on what the rules of the world were - in a nonofficial capacity, of course. The restroom had the same public stench that he was used to in places like this and he found the culprit immediately, cursing in front of the cracked mirror over the sink.
"Fucking bitch!" Cameron shouted at his reflection, dripping blood into the basin freely.
"Damn," Angel said, letting out a low whistle, "Who did that to you?"
"Fucking cunt I brought here," Cameron hissed out, turning to get toilet paper from the stall only to find there wasn't any.
"What'd she do that for?" Angel asked, stepping slightly closer, "Looks like she broke your nose, buddy."
"I knew it," he cursed, "She hit me because she's a cock tease, that's wh-"
Cameron stopped speaking when Angel slammed him against the wall between the urinals and sink. He kept one hand on his nose and one pushed against Angel's much larger shoulder as he muffled out, "What the hell is your problem?"
"Buffy Summers is my problem," Angel roared, "If you ever want to swim again, you stay away from her. Got it?"
"Look," Cameron explained, "She hit me. I was just protecting-"
"Lay off the bullshit," Angel demanded, "I don't have time. I have to take your date home and see I can get the fucking swelling down before her father finds out what you did."
"I can-"
"SHUT UP!" Angel shouted and pulled him back from the wall slightly so he could slam him back into it, "Touch her again and I'll come find you, boy. You'll have more to worry about than your nose."
"I'm s-sorry, but she-"
"Cameron," Angel sneered, leaning in closely to make sure he got his message across, "That's your name, right? I want to hurt you so badly, I can barely stand it, so keep talking, okay?"
Angel waited and was greeted with silence. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself he liked his job, he said evenly, "What you attempted to do tonight was date rape. It's a violation of a person and it's against the law. Buffy won't press charges, but believe me when I tell you I'm going to try and convince her to. Being able to touch a beautiful girl is a privilege. It isn't yours to take as you wish. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Cameron said, only after Angel glared at him for long seconds waiting for an answer.
"Good," Angel said, standing up straight and releasing him, "Touch her again and they'll never find your body."
***
//keep some sorrow in your hearts and minds
for the things that die before their time//
"You broke his nose," Angel said with a grin as he opened his car door and waited for her to climb in. He circled the other side and climbed in before taking her hand and inspecting her. He knew it wasn't uncommon for someone to hurt themselves as much as the person they hit when it was done incorrectly, "You didn't hurt yourself when you hit him did you?"
"No," she said shaking her head, "Daddy taught me how to punch straight a long time ago."
"Good," he said, starting his car and pulling from the parking lot, "I'm going to take you to my house to get cleaned up before I take you home, okay?"
"Well...that's the other thing," she said, sniffling again, "I called home after I called you and told Mom I was staying at Willow's because I knew Daddy would lose it if he saw me like this."
"Okay," he said, nodding with uncertainty at why this was upsetting her, "I can take you to Willow's. That's not a big deal."
"Well then I called Willow and she said her parents were having house guests and that I couldn't stay there tonight," Buffy added, "And now I don't know what to do."
"Buffy," Angel said, casting a glance toward her as he drove, "Hank is going to see it tomorrow if he doesn't tonight."
"I know," she said, "But...he's going to freak when he sees it and I just can't...I can't face him tonight. I just need some time to think about how I'm going to explain this."
"Can't you sneak into your room?" Angel asked, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel. There was no way Buffy was staying the night at his house. He would have of think of something else. Not only did he not trust himself but Hank would crucify him if he found out. No, there had to be a better option. He just didn't know what it was yet.
"He'll see it," she moaned, "Trust me. I can *never* sneak anything like this past him. I've tried before."
Angel kept silent for the rest of the drive, if only to keep himself from begging her to go home. He knew if she stayed there he wouldn't be able to resist pulling her into his arms and swearing he would keep her safe for the rest of his life.
"Geez," Buffy said as he pulled into the driveway, "Does a small country live in there with you?"
"What?" he asked distractedly as he climbed out of the car. He glanced up at the mansion and then walked around the car to open her door, which she was already opening, "Oh. No, it was my mother's family's house."
"Was?" Buffy asked as they headed for the front door.
"My mom and sister died in car accident six years ago," he said, unlocking the formidable front door and pushing it open, "Now it's just me and my little sister, Cordelia. I got custody of her when my mom died."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Angel," she gushed, "I didn't mean..." Realizing he said "Cordelia" caused her to clamp her mouth closed. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. This whole night had to be a nightmare.
"That's okay," he said, shutting the door behind her, "You couldn't have known."
"Is she here? Your sister, I mean?" Buffy asked. She tried not to gape at her surroundings but the house was nothing short of magnificent. The furnishings looked as if they had been placed there for a movie scene, complete with lush plants in the corners and Persian rugs on the marble floors.
"I think she's staying at Harmony's tonight," he muttered absently, tossing his jacket over the couch and reaching to relieve her of the identical one she wore.
"Harmony," Buffy echoed in shock, "Like the blonde, ditzy girl who talks too much?"
"That's the one," Angel said, "She's one of my sister's friends. Do you know her?"
"Angel," Buffy said, taking a deep breath and holding it, "Please tell me your sister isn't Cordelia Chase"
"Uh, yeah," Angel answered with confusion and then more confusion when Buffy groaned at his answer. He looked at her for a second before it hit him, "Oh God, you go to school with her don't you?"
"Yep."
"And you don't like each other?"
"More like a seething animosity," Buffy answered, wandering around the room. She picked up a picture on the mantlepiece of Angel and Cordy laughing together. They looked like family. It was strange that she never saw it before, but it made sense. They were both so damn beautiful with their sculpted cheekbones and dark hair, "I thought your last name was Angelus."
"It is," he said, "My father died when I was a baby and my mom remarried Cordy's father, Richard Chase."
Angel sat down on the couch and watched Buffy wandering around. He could already see her living there with him and making this her home. He could even see Cordy warming up to Buffy after awhile. Planning to start the process, even if it wasn't purposely, he began explaining as he led her to the bathroom to get cleaned up, "I know Cordy can be difficult, but you have to understand why she is the way she is."
Buffy bit back the urge to blurt out, "Spoiled?" She always knew that Cordelia was rich and had heard that she lost her family in a car accident, but the girl was just too mean to feel sorry for.
"Her father left when my sisters were in grade school," he said, "He couldn't handle the idea that my mother's family was so powerful and wealthy, even though Mom never held that over him. He just couldn't stand not being the man of the house. Then Mom and my other sister, Kathryn, died. She was Cordy's twin, Buffy. Ever since Kathy died, Cordy has felt like a part of her was missing."
"Was Kathy like Cordy at all?" Buffy asked, unable to help herself. The idea of two identical Cordelia's running around was enough to send her into a full blown shudder even though she was starting to feel a little bit of sympathy for Queen C.
"No," Angel said, shaking his head sadly as he opened the first aid kit, "Kathy was shy and quiet, always standing in Cordy's shadow. She was the kindest person you'd ever want to meet. Cordy used to protect her from the world. No one could ever pick on Kathy if Cordy was around. They were a sight when they were together, especially when they were happy. Those two brilliant smiles...they could talk me into anything."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, touching the side of his face. He met her eyes for a second and blinked, "No, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm spilling all this to you. I've never talked about this to anyone."
"I'm glad you told me," Buffy whispered.
***
//come on, color me in
come on, color me in
give me your blue rain
give me your black sky
give me your green eyes
come on, give me your white skin
come on, give me your white skin
come on, give me your white skin//
Buffy tossed and turned in the guest bedroom feeling overwhelmed by the evening's events. There was no way she was going to sleep after being beat up by some creep on the swim team, coming home with Angel and then finding out about Cordelia. It was too much to handle, although to be honest, she wasn't certain she would be able to sleep anyway when she was so close to Angel's bedroom.
*Angel's bedroom.*
Those two words were taboo in her mind. She could even begin to allow her brain to comprehend what it would be like to be in his arms there even for a few minutes. If she had any guts at all she would already be down the hall and climbing in with him.
It had been a year since he kissed her and although they both agreed they would stay apart, she knew he still was attracted to her. Just the way he lost his temper at the club gave him away. After he had gone in the bathroom after Cameron, she had snuck up to the door and pressed her ear against it to listen. His voice was so angry and full of emotion as he talked to her date. Buffy knew Angel cared about her. She knew he did. Now all she had to do was convince him to follow through with his emotions.
She heard a knock on the front door and she crept out of her room, watching as Angel walked down the grand staircase and through his house in drawstring pants and no shirt. She was so mesmerized by the flexing muscles in his back and the sight of the large tattoo on his right shoulder blade, that she couldn't even get her mind to wonder who was at the door.
"Liam," a female voice crooned and Buffy hurried over the landing, crossing where the staircase went down so she could downstairs better. Standing mere feet from Angel's bedroom, she was torn between eavesdropping and snooping. She stayed where she was and watched as an annoyingly beautiful blonde woman entered the foyer.
"Darla," Angel breathed in a voice that sounded like irritation, "It's late. What are you doing here?"
"Is your sister home?" she asked coyly, stepping closer to him and smoothing her hands over his muscular chest. Buffy was certain that woman wasn't there to see Cordy.
"No," he said, stepping away, "Is there something you needed?"
"Needed?" Darla echoed sensually, stepping closer again, "I don't know if I need it, but I know I want it."
"Listen," Angel said and Buffy listened closely to see if there was any interest or emotion in his voice, "I know that you want to get back together, but I already told you that it's over."
"I know what you said," Darla purred, "But you said that before and still weren't able to keep me out of your bed. What do you think? One more time for old time's sake?"
"No," he said, firmly, "It's time for you to go."
Buffy watched them going back and forth, feeling an intense jealousy nipping at her. She had never been jealous or protective over a guy before, but somehow she had always thought of Angel as hers. She looked down at her mini skirt and shirt for a second and then back out to the ex-lovers in heated discussion. Making a decision, she hurried into Angel's bedroom and pulled one of his shirts from the closet. Quickly, she shed her own clothes and donned his shirt, taking a second to rumple her hair. She went back out and pressed the bruised side of her face against the wall near the top of the stairs, so Darla wouldn't be able see it and think that Angel had hit her.
"I'm tired. I'd like to go back to sleep, so if you don't mind...," Angel's voice wafted up to the top of the stairs.
"Maybe you need company," Darla persisted, not planning on leaving any time soon. She had gone there to sleep with Angel and wasn't going to leave until she got what she wanted.
"Angel?" Buffy called out, pretending to lean tiredly against the wall at the top of the stairs. She tried not to smile as she faked a yawn, "Are you coming back to bed, baby?"
Angel turned around and nearly swallowed his tongue. Jesus, she was fantastic drowning in one of his best silk shirts. She had left most of the top buttons unbuttoned and he could see the perfect rise of her breasts. Her naked legs peered out from the bottom of the shirt and he fought to breathe as he choked out, "Just a second, love."
"Who is that?" Darla demanded, pointing up at Buffy with one red, clawlike fingernail, "You think some little cheerleader can replace me?"
"No," Angel said, turning his back on her and heading up the stairs, "I think she already has. You can you let yourself out, can't you?"
The steps seemed to triple in number as Angel climbed them. At some point he would reach the top and then he would have her there nearly naked in his shirt, waiting for him with Darla watching. He knew without looking back that she hadn't left yet.
When he reached her, he saw that she was leaning against the wall trying to hide her injuries from his ex and he had to smile. She was so damn smart...and beautiful...and perfect. Thinking fast, he pulled her into his arms and strategically covered the side of her face with his large hand as he kissed her. She squealed in delight as he pulled her into his arms and headed for the bedroom, momentarily forgetting the Darla was still there and this was just an act. He kicked his bedroom door closed behind him and continued to kiss her, lost in the sweet taste of her mouth.
He groaned as her warm little hands moved around his neck, pulling him harder against her. He had almost allowed himself to forget out he loved the way she felt against him, how when she kissed him the whole world fell away leaving only the two of them. It was almost as if the rest of the world could disappear and he wouldn't notice or care. The jarring sound of the slamming of his front door brought him back to reality and he pulled away from her lips.
"I-I'm sorry," he said, setting her gently on her small feet and stepping away, "I got carried away."
"That's okay," she said, stepping closer and allowing herself to touch his chest. He was so perfect all over, so much better than she had even imagined. She didn't even care that kissing him made her sore jaw ache. She didn't care if it hurt twice as much as long as he did it again. She looked up at him and pleaded silently with her eyes for just one more kiss and he had no choice but to oblige her, sliding his hands over her silk clad body, meeting her lips once more.
"Thanks for helping me out," he managed to force out when he backed away again, knowing he would need a cold shower before he could sleep that night.
"You're welcome," she said, "I hope you don't mind that I did that, it just looked like she wasn't going to leave."
"She would have...eventually...I think," he said, not willing to admit to Buffy that usually he gave in before he could get her to go. He took a long shaky breath and then added, "I think you can get dressed now though."
"What if I don't want to?" Buffy asked coyly, stepping closer. He promised himself he would burrow through the wall before he touched her again. He just couldn't allow himself to touch her again. Could he?
"We've been over this," he stammered, "I wish things were different but they aren't. Nothing's changed. You're still in High School and I'm still your father's partner. I'm *seven* years older than you, Buffy."
"I've done the math," she answered, defiance flashing through her eyes, "I'm eighteen now and I can do whatever I want."
"He'll kill me," Angel said, "Not that I wouldn't risk it, but I'm just trying to protect you, Buffy. If we start something here, it could get out of control and it'll be over before it starts."
"Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" she demanded, taking a step closer, "Isn't it supposed to get out control?"
"This isn't some fairy tale," he said angrily, quelling the urge to yell at her, "When I kiss you, you don't wake up from some deep sleep and live happily ever after."
"No," she said as a knock sounded on the door, "When you kiss me, I wanna die."
Angel met her eyes for a long time, catching the fear and love in them, before brushing past the delectable body of his partner's daughter, out the bedroom door and back down the stairs to answer the door. Buffy followed him out, leaning against the wall again in her former position as she waited. She heard Angel talking to someone and strained to see who was at the door, if it was Darla again, but couldn't see that far without moving from her spot.
"We have an emergency situation," she heard her father say as he stepped into the house. She was prepared to run into the bedroom and hide when Hank Summers looked up and saw his daughter half naked standing at the top of Angel's staircase, "What the fuck is going on here?"
"Listen Hank," Angel said, holding his hands up and backpedaling several steps, "I can explain."
"Daddy," Buffy called out, forgetting out her injuries and buttoning the top of Angel's shirt as she ran down the stairs, "Please wait! This isn't what it looks like.
"What happened to your face?" he screamed. Not waiting for an answer, his arm flung out, contacting with Angel's jaw, "I can't wait to bury your useless fucking body!"
"Daddy!" Buffy screamed jumping in between them and pressing her back against Angel's chest to protect him, "It's not what you think. Just calm down for a second."
"I'm glad it's not what I think," Hank said, "Because it looks like you've just gotten out of his bed. Was that before or after he hit you?"
"I wasn't in his bed and he didn't hit me," she said, firmly and angrily, "Don't come in here punching people before you know the whole story."
Hank's phone rang and he answered it with a furious, "Hello?" He spoke for a second and when he hung up, he looked up, glowering at Angel, "We need to go now. Get dressed, Angelus. Buffy, call your mother and get your ass home. We'll talk about this later."
"Hank," Angel said, "I swear to God..."
"We have an emergency," Hank said, crossing his arms over his chest, "Hurry up."
Angel looked from Buffy to Hank and back again before jogging up the stairs to get dressed. He shut his door quietly and leaned against it for a second before moving into action. Even through the closed door he could hear Hank demanding that Buffy get dressed as well. Angel stopped, looked down at her clothes lying in a pile at his feet and closed his eyes.
***
Part Three
//i wanna be the knife that cuts into my hand
and i wanna be scattered from here in this catapult.//
Angel cursed under his breath as he got into Hank's car and put on his seatbelt. This whole day had been a whirlwind of nightmarish events intermixed with the sweet, surreal memories of having Buffy in his arms. All he ever wanted was to make sure she was happy and as he looked back at her standing in his doorway, still wearing his maroon silk shirt with a look of utter destruction on her beautiful face, he knew he had failed.
He didn't need to be able to see her tears to know they were there and found himself wondering what she was going to say to her mother when she called. He wanted to think that Joyce would be Buffy's ally, but her parents had been so wrapped up in hating each other lately, that he wasn't sure.
The two detectives sat in silence for as long as Angel could stand it, which turned out to be approximately six and a half minutes. He cleared his throat and broke into the car's violent silence, "I didn't touch her."
Angel looked over and saw Hank setting his jaw tightly, not even contemplating speech. Although his partner looked as if he were steps from pulling the car over and bludgeoning him to death, he forced himself to continue, "She called me as I was driving home because the guy you *let* her go out with tried to date rape her in the club."
"And she just took off her clothes and went into your bedroom without any help from you?" Hank said, nearly twitching with anger. Angel sighed. There was no plausible way to explain how she had come to be nearly nude in one of his shirts. He couldn't help but remember how she brazenly stepped forward and touched him when he tried to back away, placing her tiny hands on his chest and burning a new sort of humanity through him. A consuming urge to blare out at Hank overtook him. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw and keep screaming until his voice broke.
"I didn't sleep with your daughter, Hank," Angel said when the urge to scream had passed. He spoke slowly and evenly, making sure he enunciated every word.
"When this case is over, you are out of our lives. I'm asking for a partner change and I don't want you anywhere near my house or my family," Hank said as he pulled in front of the police station. He didn't wait for Angel's response. Instead, he strode directly inside, intending to leave Angel as far behind him as possible. His partner, however, had different plans.
Angel scrambled out of the car and jogged after him with panic shooting through him. He had told himself a thousand times or more that he would stay as far away from Buffy as humanly possible and he could almost grasp the thought of never making love to her, never marrying her, never being able to tell her his true feelings, but he couldn't fathom the idea of being completely tossed from her life. He wouldn't let her father or anyone else keep him from her. She needed him. He knew somewhere deep inside that she needed him just as much as he tried to forget he needed her.
"I think your daughter should be able to decide whether or not she wants me in her life," Angel forced out, half a step behind him.
"She's a child," Hank answered without turning.
"She's eighteen," Angel retorted firmly as they mounted the steps into the police station. He knew this was insane. He knew that less than an hour ago he was telling Buffy why they couldn't be together, but the idea of never seeing her again was more than he could take.
"She's my daughter!" Hank screamed, not even noticing that they had reached the office and were surrounded by their peers. Neither felt the shocked eyes of the officers around them and neither would have given a damn if they had noticed.
"I'm in love with her!" Angel screamed back and then snapped his mouth shut in shock. Had he just said that out loud? He felt a lump forming in his throat and he knew for the first time that it was the absolute truth. It was the only truth he had known since his family died, since he killed those people. Buffy was the only thing he saw in the future and without her there really didn't seem to be a point.
"Are you so supremely stupid that you think saying that to me is going to justify what I saw tonight, Angelus?" Hank demanded, "My daughter was naked, three steps from your bedroom and you're telling me you didn't touch her one second and that you're love with her the next! Get the fuck out of my sight!"
Jaws gaped all over the room as they watched the interchange between the two detectives. With Hank's last statement, Angel stepped closer, flaring with a sort of anger that made everyone want to take a step back, "Hank, I am in LOVE with your daughter. I haven't touched her. I didn't make love to her tonight, but I promise you I will. I'm not leaving her life. I'm becoming a permanent part of it if I have to marry her without your blessing!"
When Hank coiled his arm back in preparation to hit him, Angel saw it coming as if it was in slow motion. He didn't move to block it or even sway to get out of the way. He wanted it. He deserved it and if his partner needed to beat the shit out of him, so be it, but he knew for the first time in that moment that his future was sealed.
The punch came hard and fast and Angel's head snapped to the side when Hank's fist caught his jaw. He turned back around to face his love's father, feeling his mouth flood with his own blood. Bending, he spit into the nearest trash can and looked back at his attacker.
"I'm in love with her," Angel said, "I want your blessing and I know Buffy does, but she's...Hank, she's everything to me. I've stayed away out of respect for YOU, but guess what? Now, I'm going to do the opposite out of respect for the woman I love."
***
//these seconds when i'm shaking leaving me shuddering for days
and i'm not ready for this sort of thing
but i'm not going to break
and i'm not going to worry about it anymore
i'm not going to bend
and i'm not going to break
and i'm not going to worry about it anymore//
Angel balanced precariously on the edge of insanity, as he stood on the Summers' front porch. The dawn that was already starting to crease that sky made his skin itch. It couldn't be a new day because the nightmare hadn't ended yet. If he could just wake up, he knew it would be fine again. But he wasn't waking up and her door stood there in front of him, taunting him with its solid existence.
He knocked on the door, rapping on the window pane lightly, as if he hoped she wouldn't hear. It wasn't until then that he realized he was bleeding. He looked away from his hand and tried to peer into the large front window for signs of movement as he forced himself to knock louder.
Finally, after several minutes, he turned around and lowered himself to the front step. It was slightly chilly out and the cold of the concrete underneath him was almost soothing. He knew he had to get up and knock again but it was so hard to focus and wasn't sure he could. It took all of his strength to do it the first time.
His head was pounding with a delicate mix of physical and emotional pain. He blinked, swiping at his eyes and finding he still couldn't see the steps in front of him. Somehow his jacket and had disappeared and he had no idea where it was. Strange, that he thought about that for a moment, just to concentrate on something else besides what he had to do. Unfortunately, that thought led to the rehashing of the evening and he closed his eyes, trying to shut down his brain again.
But it wouldn't shut down. He could still hear the bullets tearing through the air, through glass, through flesh. He remembered leaning through the window of the car and unloading round after round of flying fatality as Hank drove. The memory of a body slumping in the backseat of the car they were chasing was imprinted on his brain. He had killed again and this time he was no hero.
He took out their two rear tires despite the mad weavings of the car chase but they kept driving as fast as the car would allow. They were all over the road and in Angel's memory, the smell of burning rubber was so intense he felt like he was going to vomit in Joyce's flower garden. The memory, however, didn't leave time for such relief.
There were three men left alive in car and one of them had been shooting holes in Hank's car for miles. Angel had long ago kicked the windshield out so they could see through the spider webbed glass, which is probably why he didn't know Hank had been shot until the car veered off to the side and out of control. Shocked, he had turned and grabbed the wheel to steady the car but let it go when he saw his partner. When he saw the bullet wound in his beloved's father's head, a part of him wanted to die too.
The rest of the events were distorted as he struggled to remember anything but the sound of the car crunching against a building. He still felt like he was still in flight as he recalled being tossed through the windshield. Even though he was fairly certain he had a concussion and his right wrist might possibly broken, he had staggered away as soon as he could escape and came here. He could still hear the paramedics demanding that he stay and the six uniforms that had been following the chase trying to physically detain him.
Ten long regret filled minutes passed before he stood from the cool porch stoop and curled his hand into a fist. Twisting his wrist, he hovered there for a couple more minutes and then he banged the side of his hand against the sturdy wooden door. He kept banging until a light came on inside and he stopped, taking a deep shaky breath. Any second she would open the door. Any second he would have to tell her and he knew that he would sacrifice anything if he didn't have to.
She appeared finally still wearing his shirt and gray cotton pants covered with little red hearts. Her eyes were barely open and her hair was delightfully bed rumpled, hanging around her shoulders. Half of her face was still black and blue and she was still the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. He fought the urge to run full speed in the opposite direction but he met her eyes reluctantly and saw them change from a sleepy yawn to alarm.
"Angel," she gasped, wrapping her little hands around his arm and tugging him inside, "You're bleeding! My God, was Daddy with you?"
He knew he opened his mouth but he wasn't sure if he actually said anything or if he only mouthed the words, as she guided him to the kitchen and went about gathering the first aid kit. He stood there staring at her, trying to make those words come out. She shushed him as she began to clean his wounds, apologizing for the pain.
"What's going on?" Joyce said, appearing sleepily at the kitchen door. She trudged over the kitchen table and sat down slowly, resting her chin in her palm, watching her daughter tend to Angel's wounds. He moved away from her and she pulled him back, "Don't be a baby. I won't hurt you."
"No, it's not that," he finally managed to spit out and looked from mother to daughter and back again. Taking a shaky moment of strength, he leaned heavily against the counter and said, "I don't know how to tell you this...but Hank..."
"Is okay," Joyce said with a fierce determination, pulling herself to her feet quickly as if she hadn't just been half asleep, "He's okay, right, Angel?"
Angel shook his head slowly, feeling tears welling his eyes as he watched them well in theirs, "I tried to save him...it all happened so fast..."
"No," Buffy said, shaking her head violently from side to side, "It's not true."
"I'm sorry, love," he whispered, "I wish it weren't."
Before they could stop her, Buffy crossed the room and dialed her father's cell phone number. She listened as the phone rang, whispering, "Pick up, Daddy."
"Buffy," Angel said gently, prying the phone from her hand, "Please."
"No!" she screamed, pounding on his chest with little fists. He tried to grab her shoulders to still her but she shrugged him off and rushed over to her mother's side. Joyce had sank to the floor, kneeling there on the ivory tiles. She didn't move or cry, but just sat there, looking at that floor that they had installed together, tile by tile so many years ago. She could almost hear the music coming from Buffy's baby swing as she rocked in the corner, sleeping through the installation.
Buffy dropped to the floor in front of her mother and Joyce slowly looked up to see her daughter. Could she explain to her child that if Hank had lived he would have moved out the following week? She didn't even know if she loved him anymore or not, but she had to because grief was twisting its way through her body, entangling itself in her own self hatred. Maybe she could have tried harder, maybe if he hadn't been so angry at her, at the world then he might have lived.
Meeting her daughter's eyes, they sat there for a moment, letting it soak in. It was just the two of them now. Moving in unison, they leaned toward each other and accepted the news. Angel stood there and watched them grieve for a moment before backing out of the room. He stopped at the doorway and looked down at his adopted family.
"If you need me..." he said, trailing off at the end. There was no point in continuing the sentence. They couldn't hear him.
***
//it's getting cold in California
i guess i'll be leaving soon//
Angel walked out of the front door and realized that his car wasn't there. He had convinced one of the uniforms to bring him here and now he had no way home. A long time must have passed while he tried to focus on how to get home without going back inside the house. His cell phone was still in his pocket but was irreparably broken from the crash.
"Angel?" Buffy said, coming out of the front door and whisking her feet through the grass as she approached him.
"I don't have my car," he mumbled as she pulled him back toward the house.
"Stay here," she whispered hoarsely. She pushed him back on the couch and he sat there in stunned silence as she gathered her mother from the kitchen and ushered her off to bed. He could hear her speaking in low, soothing tones to Joyce as she tucked her into bed. As he heard her footsteps coming back down the stairs, he wanted to run back out the door rather than face her but he couldn't get his body to move.
"I'm so sorry, Buffy," he said as she crawled into his lap and buried her bruised face into his shirt, "I tried to save him. I'm so sorry..."
"I could have lost you both," she whispered back, looking up and touching the fresh wounds on his face. Fresh tears sprung in her eyes and he wanted to wipe them away but thinking he had caused them made all the difference. Even though she was tucked in his lap, he couldn't touch her.
"I wish it would have been me instead," he said. She laid her head back against his chest and he could have sworn he heard her muffled voice say, "Shut up, Angel."
***
//the reason that I'm driven straight to tears
waiting here for you
wanting to tell you
how i get my endings my beginnings mixed up too
just the way you do
i thought if i told you
you might want to stay for just another day or two//
A month later, Cordelia Chase stormed into the Sunnydale High School library and whipped her dark head toward the table where Buffy sat talking quietly to Giles.
"This is trying time for you, Buffy," Giles said, "I wish I could do more to help, but I'm not certain I understand what you are asking.
"Mom told me about you two, Giles," she said, "I know you never stopped loving my mother."
"Buffy," Giles stammered, "Your mother and I...that was over long ago and she is hardly a month into her grieving process. I cannot enter her life again now."
"She needs a friend, Giles," Buffy begged, "Can you just call her or something?"
"I know who else needs a friend," Cordy said, placing her hands on her hips. She glared down at Buffy like she was preparing to go into war.
"Cordelia, I'm trying to have a conversation with Giles-"
"Buffy," Cordelia said with a tremble of anger in her voice, "I don't know what you did to my brother but he won't leave the house. He hasn't been back to work and he won't even...He won't even talk to me!"
"W-why do you think I have anything to do with that?" Buffy croaked. She had been crying herself to sleep every night since her father died. She had fallen asleep with Angel on the couch and when they woke up in the morning, she felt so perfect sleeping in his arms, but he panicked. It was almost as if he couldn't wait to get out of there and before she knew it he had called a cab and left.
Other than a few polite words, an earnest apology at the funeral and kiss to her forehead in the cemetery, she hadn't seen or spoken to him. She had originally felt incredibly guilty because she was glad she hadn't lost them both. That smidgeon of happiness that had broken into her grief had been a much needed relief no matter how remorseful she was for feeling it and now she realized she that had lost them both after all. She just had been hoping that wasn't true during these weeks she had spent without him.
"He's in love with you!" Cordelia spat at her, "I can't begin to understand what he sees in someone like you, but I know my brother and he can't stop beating himself up for your father's death."
"I don't know what you expect me to do about it," Buffy said, rising to her feet, "He left! I tried to talk to him and he won't even *look* at me. You saw him at the funeral, Cordy!"
"Buffy," Cordy said, grabbing her shoulders with desperation in her eyes, "He's dying inside. You have to do SOMETHING before I lose the only thing I have left in my life. Please. Help him."
Cordelia Chase has feelings. The idea was like a freight train to Buffy. Even when Angel had told her about his mother and his other sister, she still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of Cordelia caring for anyone but herself. She stared at the taller girl for long moments, letting the knowledge set in. Finally, she nodded slowly and followed her out of the library. Cordelia led her out to her car and drove like a mad woman home.
Buffy found Angel in the living room with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, staring at the walls as if he were listening to them speak.
"Hi," she said, sitting down on the table in front of him.
"Why are you here, Buffy?" he asked, taking a long pull off of his cigarette and looking at her blankly.
"I came to find out why you aren't speaking to me anymore."
"Maybe I don't have anything to say," he answered bitterly.
"So you lived and Daddy died," Buffy announced, "but you decided that you would rather die, right? You wish it so much that you're going to sit here until you rot."
"What do you want?" he asked, his mouth twisting into an acidic frown.
"I want to know if you love me," she asked, fidgeting there on the edge of the table.
"Forget about me," he said, pulling himself to his feet and brushing past his sister without a glance as he left the room. Buffy charged after him and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to face her. He saw fury flashing in her eyes as she began to shout, "I know you love me. You feel guilty that my Dad died. I get that but what you're doing is...fucking stupid!"
"You're eighteen years old, Buffy," Angel shouted back, coming to life, "What do you know about love? What do you know about guilt? Huh? I killed three people two years ago and last month I killed someone else and your father died anyway. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to-"
"What *brood* some more?" she shouted, "Feel sorry for yourself a little bit longer?"
"I can't become a killer, Buffy," he said, "That's what I'm turning into. I'm turning into this *thing* that won't be able to love anything."
"Then fight it."
"It's too hard," he said, pulling away from her, and leaning against the wall, "I can't live like this. All I want to do is take comfort in you, but I can't. Before your father died, we got into a fight about you. He told me that he would never approve of me being in your life and I was going to do whatever I could to convince him that we should be together, but now he's dead. It's all my fault and nothing you or anyone else says can change that."
"I know what happened, Angel. Mom and I read the police report. It wasn't your fault!" Buffy answered. She waited for him to make any motion of acknowledgment, but he just stood there staring at her blankly. She took a deep breath trying to fight the tears she couldn't stop, "What about me, Angel? I love you so much and I tried to stay away but I can't. And I hate it! I hate that it's so hard...and that you can hurt me so much. Oh God! I felt so guilty because I was glad you didn't die too. I wish that I wished you died instead, but I don't. I can't."
"Buffy, please," he said, weeping as he spoke, "Just let me follow your father's wishes. Let me be strong."
"Strong is fighting!" she shouted, "It's hard and it's painful and it's every day, but it's what we have to do. You can sit here and waste the rest of your life and mine, or we can do it together! But if you think I'm going to move on with my life and fall in love with someone else, you're wrong. If you just drink and smoke yourself to death, then all my love dies with you."
Liam Angelus and Cordelia Chase stood in shock and watched as Buffy left the house, slamming the door behind her. Tears streamed down her face as she walked away, not knowing how she was going to get home. She wished she cared about getting home, but she didn't. Everything she cared about was back there in that too large house with his little sister.
Part Four
***
//it does not bother me to say this isn't love
because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love
and i guess i'm going to have to live with that
but i'm sure there's something in a shade of gray
or something in between//
"Angel," Buffy said into the telephone after she'd dialed, after she'd walked for a long time to get home. She wasn't sure how long it had taken. An hour? Longer? She knew that Cordelia came running out of the house and roared in her candy apple red car after her. Buffy had hidden behind a tree and waited until the car had passed before trudging back out to the sidewalk and crying her way home. If Angel hadn't come after her, then she would rather walk.
Each step reminded her of another horrible part of the last month. Spending all that time without her father or the man she loved was not nearly as horrendous as she had imagined it would be. It was much, much worse.
All she wanted when her father died was to curl up in Angel's strong arms and cry. She wanted those fears and feelings to spring free, only reaching the safety of his ears. But she wasn't allowed that. Her mother was either drunk or catatonic every day, her father was dead and Angel wanted nothing to do with her. Buffy couldn't help wondering why she was being punished.
"Thank God," he breathed into the receiver. She could imagine him smelling of liquor and cigarettes rather than that clean smell he always had, like leather and soap, "Cordy came after you and-"
"Shut up, Angel," she snapped, trying to keep her voice strident. She couldn't let him hear her voice break in pain. Not again, "I just called to tell you one thing."
She paused, but she could only hear his breathing as he waited for her to continue. She almost smiled. He was shutting up.
"I'm a real person," she said clearly, "I decide who I love and what I want to do with my life. My father told you to stay away from me, but it was never his decision. It wasn't my mother's either. This is my life. I decide. Not them. Not you."
"Buffy-"
Angel was silenced when the line went dead on the other end. He sat down in his chair again, cradling the cordless phone in his hand as if he thought it would metamorphosize into Buffy if he waited long enough. He should have been the one to go after her. He should have run out that door and kept running until he caught up with her. Already, he could feel her lips against his and the imaginary sigh that was escaping into his mouth from hers was so sweet, he was trembling.
"Why?" Cordelia said, perching on the arm of his chair and looking down on him. He peered up at his beautiful sister and watched as she pushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder so that it wouldn't block his face.
"Because I love her," he said, tossing the phone and watching as it bounced on the adjacent couch, "Because I don't deserve her."
"She loves you too," Cordy said, taking his hand and squeezing it. She gritted her teeth for a second as she made the words she had to say come from her mouth, "Listen very carefully, Angel because I won't say this again. I don't like Buffy Summers. I never have and I don't think I ever will, but she loves you. She makes you happy like no one ever has since Mom died. You need her in your life and the little...she needs you. I hate the idea of thinking of her as family but I already do. I have to."
"Cordy," Angel said, leaning his head back against his chair, "Don't you think-"
"I *think* that I need my brother," she said, clutching his hand tighter and blinking back her own tears, "I can't do this without you, Angel. You're the only one who really loves me. I can't lose you and if that means accepting Buffy into our lives then I can live with that."
"What if I ruin her life?"
"What if you ruin ours?" She demanded standing up and straightening her skirt. He watched as his sister's bitchy demeanor returned. She placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot urgently, "Now get your ass up and shower because you're smelling up our house."
"Cordelia," Angel warned, narrowing red rimmed eyes at his sister.
"No," she said, turning and walking from the room with a flipping cloud of dark hair trailing behind her, "Go make up with her, Angel! Grovel for her forgiveness and don't bring your sorry ass home until you have."
***
//it's not all that easy
so maybe i should nap her up in butterfly net
pin her down in a photograph album//
"Buffy!" Joyce called as she entered the house and slammed the door. Buffy called out her response as she tramped down the stairs. She met the worried eyes of her mother and Giles as she reached the bottom.
"We were looking all over for you," her mother shouted, "You left school early without permission and then disappeared without a trace. We called Angel's and he said you left hours ago."
"I walked home," Buffy said, shrugging her shoulders, "Sorry you were worried. Didn't think you'd miss me that much."
"We were preparing to call hospitals," Giles said, calmly as he pulled out the handkerchief that was always tucked in his pocket and began wiping his glasses.
"Giles," Buffy complained, "When I asked you to talk to my mother, I didn't mean you needed to rat me out for ditching school early."
"I certainly didn't ‘rat' you out," he answered, perching his glasses on his nose once more, "She called me and that is entirely beside the point."
"Do you want to lecture me?" Buffy asked, sinking to the third stair, "Cause I'm all yelled out for the day. Why don't you two just let me know when you're done, okay?"
Buffy nearly choked when Joyce pulled her roughly into her arms and embraced her tightly, "I was so worried. Please just tell me when you're going to be late, okay?"
"Okay," Buffy muffled in bewilderment as she patted her Mom's back lightly, "Okay, Mom...Oxygen is becoming an issue."
***
//we're gonna have to think about the consequences
she can't stop shaking and i can't stop touching her and...
this time when kindness falls like rain
it washes her away//
Angel showered extremely slowly. He dried off, dressed and headed out the front door even more slowly. He observed the exact speed limit all the way to Buffy's. Not because he was a police officer but because he didn't know what he was going to do once he got there.
All the lights were off in the house when he finally arrived and he almost turned around and went home until he saw that her bedroom light was on. Taking every bit of courage he had, he slipped his keys in his pocket and climbed the tree by her house, stepping off the branch onto the porch overhang in front of her window.
She was sitting on her bed with her knees against her chest hugging a stuffed pig. Her long blonde hair was streaming down her back, slightly damp in some places. He loved the way it contrasted with her blue silk pajamas, looking like the beginnings of an Indian summer sunset.
"Buffy," he whispered, crouching near her window and bracing his hands on either side of it.
"Angel," she said, tossing her pig away and sliding to her feet, "What are you doing here?"
"I...I came to apologize," he said. He watched as her feet landed on her floor and remembered the first time he saw them. They weren't painted sparkly purple this time, but a blushing pink color. He almost smiled as he recalled that he wanted to kiss them. He still did.
"For what?" she asked, her anger coming through in her words.
"For being an asshole," he said, "For not coming after you, for loving you too much. I don't deserve you, Buffy and I'm not sure how to make this right."
"You can start by getting off my roof," she ordered. His face fell and as he began to pivot to leave, she reached through the window and caught his arm. She tugged him lightly toward her, "and come inside."
Gingerly and gracefully, he slipped through and found himself in her bedroom. Suddenly, this seemed like a very bad idea. He could see the faint outline of her bare breasts through the fabric and her tanned legs were visible underneath the shorts she wore. He tried to look anywhere but at her as he struggled to speak.
"Do you love me?" she asked, repeating her earlier question with even more trepidation than before.
"I-I love you. I try not to," he said, meeting her beautiful green-hazel eyes, "But I can't stop."
"Me too. I can't either," she whispered, stepping forward and pressing herself against him. His arms automatically wrapped around her and his lips acted on their own as they sought out hers. She opened her mouth to his tongue and tentatively slipped hers inside his warm mouth. He tasted like toothpaste and love, air and life.
"I should go," he said, breaking the kiss and backing away quickly. She ignored his words as she stepped forward and caught his lips again. He was so delicious and she could feel her whole body tingling from his closeness.
"Don't go," she murmured against his lips before sucking his tongue into her mouth again. He threaded his fingers into her hair and delighted in the feel of her body pressed dangerously against his. It felt perfect and alarming at the same time. Nothing had ever felt that wonderful.
"You need to go to bed," he whispered back, allowing himself another kiss. He thought he could explore her mouth for the rest of his life and never get over what he was feeling right then. He never wanted to stop.
"God, you feel..." she moaned, holding him tighter and more desperately. Her tiny hands roamed over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles.
"Tell me to leave," he begged against her lips, "Tell me that I don't deserve you."
"Stay," she answered, "Never leave me, Angel."
Swiftly, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders, shoving it lifelessly to the floor as if she had done it a thousand times before. Nimble fingers released the buttons from his shirt and sweet lips kissed the flesh that was revealed.
"Buffy," he groaned, catching her hands, "Stop. We can't do this."
"Why?" she asked, looking up at him demurely, "We love each other."
"Not tonight," he said, kissing her fingertips, "It's too soon."
"Will you stay," she asked quietly, "and hold me?"
He nodded after a long moment and slipped off his shoes. She unbuttoned the final two buttons on his shirt and was careful not to meet his eyes as she pulled it off of him. Taking an extra second, she caressed his beautiful chest and abdomen while he stood very still, breathing heavily. She avoided the urge to kiss him again as she turned and shut the door. Even as she turned out the light, pulled the covers aside and crawled in, he knew this was a mistake. He already knew if he held her for one night he would never be able to turn away.
Casting aside his fears, he crawled in behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her intoxicating scent as she molded against him. Her small frame fit perfectly against his as no other woman ever had.
The movement of her silk top felt like water beneath his fingers as she pulled it up inch by innocent inch until his fingertips touched her bare belly. When she had slipped the fabric completely away and his whole hand was in contact with her skin, he tried to think about anything that wasn't sensual, anything that wasn't Buffy but when her tiny hand covered his, his brain exploded. She nudged his hand up until it covered her breast.
Her breath came out in nervous puffs and he could feel her heart pounding beneath her skin as he tried to think about how to get out of the situation. Losing his resolve, he brushed his lips over her neck and rolled her hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned as she turned over, lying on her back.
Her promised himself that he would not let it go too far as he bent and licked her perfect nipple before sucking it between his lips. Buffy felt warmth spreading through her entire body, beginning in her lower belly and spanning her limbs. His other hand covered her other breast as he suckled her nipple, switching sides after a short while to lave the same pleasurable ministrations there.
He felt her arching urgently beneath him and moved away, knowing it had already gone too far for the evening. Tugging her top down again and ignoring her whimper of protest, he pulled her into his arms and held her closely once more.
"Sleep," he whispered, kissing her forehead, "There's time for this later, baby."
"Angel?" she asked, gliding her fingers over his forearm.
"Hmm?"
"Do you snore?"
***
//it's a sin to be fading endlessly
yeah, but she's alright with me
she is leaving on a walkway
she is leaving me in disarray
in the absence of a place to be
she stands there looking back at me
hesitates and then turns away//
"Buffy?" Joyce said as she pushed open her daughter's door, "Time for school...Oh my God."
She stared at the two bodies wrapped around each other in Buffy's bed. Sometime in the middle of the night, they had kicked the covers away and Buffy had turned in her sleep, pressing her face against Angel's bare chest. His large hand was outlined by the material of Buffy's pajama top as his hand spanned her back underneath it, pressing against her bare skin. Their legs were hopelessly tangled with one another and they clung like lovers who had been too long apart. Barely awake, Buffy kissed the patch of chest in front of her and snaked around him to spread her hand over his back.
"Buffy!" Joyce shouted, taking a step forward in her frenzy. Buffy opened her eyes and met with Angel's chest before shooting her gaze to the door where her mother stood. Seconds later both Buffy and Angel leapt from the bed, each escaping from a separate side. Buffy shook her head in regret as she realized that she had forgotten to set an alarm.
"Joyce, I assure you," Angel began and closed his mouth when she glared at him menacingly.
"Buffy," Joyce demanded, "Get ready for school. You're late. Angel, please see yourself out."
"Mom-"
"School!" Joyce shouted, "Weak explanations later. I'm sure having an entire day for preparation will allow you to come up with an acceptable reason why a 26 year old, half naked police detective spent the night in your bed."
"Shit," she grumbled as her mother strode away. She turned to Angel who looked sufficiently guilty and seemed to contemplating something to say. She interrupted him before he started, "Please don't say it."
"You don't even know what I was going to say," he objected, crossing the room for his shirt.
"You're right," she answered, stepping closer to him, "And I don't want to know."
He looked up at her bed rumpled hair, streaming over her shoulders. The top couple of buttons of her top had come free in the night and he had an extra glimpse of her bare skin. Arousal for her fanned throughout his body as he met her eyes and watched her skin flush in response to his inappropriate gaze.
"Kiss me," he said, smiling despite himself.
"Finally something I want to do," she whispered, meeting his lips. Lost in the moment and in the soft body pressing against his, he began moving her toward the bed again. He caught himself just before he lowered her to the mattress and broke the kiss. Slipping on his shirt, he breathed in deeply before sitting down to put on his shoes. Suddenly, she was on his lap, straddling him and greedily stealing another kiss.
"You're going to be late for school," he said hoarsely, mentally denying himself the knowledge that she was now on his lap. She silenced him with another kiss, wiggling in the most delightful way.
"Promise me you aren't going to spend the day trying to think of another reason why we shouldn't be together," she said, keeping her arms around him.
"I promise," he answered reluctantly, shifting his eyes away from her. Something that felt so right and was so wrong was a contradiction that he wasn't sure of how to deal with.
"I want to be with you, Angel," she said quietly, "And I know you want to be with me. Why do we have to fight it? Can't we just be together now?"
"It's not that easy, love," he said regretfully.
"You said you loved me," she retorted, "You came here and held me all night long. I think it is that easy."
With that she slipped off of his lap, grabbed her robe and left the room. Angel finished putting on his shoes quickly and thought about climbing back out the window. Instead, he took the stairs and planned to slip out the front door before Joyce had an opportunity to speak to him. Unfortunately, she was waiting for him, nursing a steaming cup of coffee.
"Joyce," he said, acknowledging her with a nod.
"I want to talk to you," she said, turning and heading for the living room. He followed and sat down on the couch, waiting for her to yell at him. She crossed her legs and said nothing. Instead, she simply sat there.
"I love your daughter, Joyce," he said finally, "I have for a long time."
"What are you intentions?" she asked, taking another sip from her mug.
"I don't know," he answered honestly, leaning his head into his hands.
"I think you'd better decide soon because if you think you're going to spend the night in my daughter's bed and then disappear without any consequences you're sorely mistaken. She may be eighteen but she's still a child. My husband told me of your...exploits. I don't want her to be another notch in your bedpost, Angel."
"She will never be that to me," he said, "I've never loved anyone the way I love her. I would never hurt her."
"Then decide what you want from her or walk away," she said, rising to her feet, "I've seen that look in her eyes for quite some time. She stopped talking about other boys after you showed up. She's just like any other young woman in love. All she can see in the future is you. I hope you're mature enough to decide what's best. If you're going to break her heart, all I ask is that you do it now when she can still heal from it."
"I don't want to break her h-heart," he stuttered, feeling a lump rising in his throat.
"You might have to," she said before heading out of the room and back up the stairs. Angel watched her leave before stumbling to the door and letting himself out.
***
TBC...
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