"All The King's Horses And All The King's Men"
Author: Indie & Tango
Email: indiefic@hotmail.com/tangofic@hotmail.com
In the morning, Buffy smiled when Angel’s trio of alarms went off. It should have been annoying but she found it adorable. They went off for a full minute in concert before he grunted and began turning things off. Instead of getting up, however, he lay back down and snuggled against her warmth again. She felt the silence grow as he stilled against her and she knew the honeymoon was effectively over.
"I didn’t do any drugs," she said quietly, "Parker slipped it in my drink."
"I know, Buffy," he said, his voice right next to her ear. She tingled all over and fought the urge to snuggle more deeply against him. He radiated so much heat, she didn’t remember ever feeling that safe, like nothing in the world could touch her. Not when she was with Angel.
"Cordy took the jacket from me and I couldn’t get in the apartment," she added, struggling to find something to explain to him what had happened. "I didn’t tell her anything."
"I know," he said, caressing her trembling body. "It’s okay."
"Anyway," she said, giving up on her explanation, "I hope you feel better about going to so much trouble now."
Angel sat up and looked down at her, but she kept facing the wall, unwilling to meet his gaze. "What do you mean ‘now’?" he asked.
Sighing, she got out of bed. "Now that we fucked, Angel."
Growling, Angel stood and crossed the room, grabbing her by the upper arms so that she faced him. "That’s not what that was to me. I’m not one of those guys, Buffy."
"I know that," she said, shrugging him off. "There’s no question of that. Look, it’s no big deal. It happened." She headed for the bedroom door nude and gripped the doorknob. Still facing the door she said so quietly he almost didn’t hear, "I never came with anyone before you."
Opening the door, she slipped out into the hallway and headed for the bathroom to shower.
Angel glared at the now closed bathroom door, fuming. Irritated, he searched through his closet and began pulling on clothes, a ratty old pair of jeans and a worn sweatshirt. It was Friday and technically, he should be at class, but he just didn't feel up to it.
What was it about Buffy that tied him up in knots? He was irritated by her accusations. But even more so by the knowledge that somewhere, deep down, Buffy was right. Not about everything. She had far too little self-esteem to even begin to fathom that he wasn't using her for sex. But the other stuff … Buffy knew that he was ashamed of their relationship, regardless of how innocent it had been. And Angel felt like even more the dick because he couldn't honestly tell her that she was wrong. He was ashamed. Part of him still bought into the belief that Buffy was trash. He saw how she lived at home with her stepfather. She'd admitted to a sex-for-drugs relationship with Spike. She was passed around more at frat parties than a beer bong. She was obnoxious, rude and she never said thank you.
But underneath all of that tough as nails exterior was a well of vulnerability that made Angel want to hide her away from the world like some fragile little bird. She knew that he was uncomfortable about their relationship, so she had let Cordy think she had stolen his jacket rather than expose him. Even when it meant forfeiting her only sanctuary, abandoning her warm, safe place to sleep.
And then she fucked him as a way of saying thank you.
Angel growled under his breath and stalked out to the kitchen. He slammed cabinets and drawers as he made coffee. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that Buffy had been all self-sacrifice when she had sex with him. She'd enjoyed it. Her orgasm had been real. Her first, she said. Angel couldn’t help the warm rush of pride that knowledge brought. But dammit, he wasn't using her. He didn't expect her to fuck him as a thank you. The fact that she would think so little of him pissed him off.
Of course, over the course of their friendship, he'd made it a point of thinking very little of her. Shit.
"If I'd 'a known ya had female companionship, I woulda crashed somewhere else."
Twisting around, Angel found Doyle, bleary-eyed, staring at him from the couch. He frowned. No doubt Doyle got quite an earful last night when Buffy went off like a firecracker. "Coffee?" he nearly snarled.
"Sure," Doyle said, grinning. "Got something to pour into it? I have a pounding hangover."
Angel snarled as a response and pulled a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels from one of the cabinets. He slammed it on the counter and fumed for a second. Knowing Buffy would be hungry, even though he was too pissed off at both of them to contemplate eating, he rooted around in the refrigerator and the cabinets. Nothing but condiments and molding cheese. Fuck.
"I’m running down the street to get some breakfast," Angel grunted at his friend. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."
"And that’s what you want me to tell your little piece when she comes outta the bathroom?" Doyle asked with a shit-eating grin. Angel’s answer was a slamming door.
Buffy left her hair down when she came out of the bathroom cause she knew Angel liked it flowing down her back. She noticed that he always stared at it like he wanted to run his fingers through it. She really wished he would. Course now he was just really pissed off at her, which was fine. He could be in any mood he wanted as long as he didn’t make her leave. She wasn’t trying to snag him, but maybe if he liked the sex enough, he’d let her stick around longer.
Wrapped in a towel she walked into the living room to find Doyle sitting on the couch. She knew Doyle pretty well. Even screwed him a couple of times. She was pretty sure Angel didn’t know that though and she was hoping it would stay that way.
"Doyle," she said, surprised. "Uh, hi."
"Buffy," he said, eyes widening in shock. He had no idea that the girl Angel had been screwing all night long had been Buffy. He couldn’t have been more shocked to see her than if a nun walked out of his bedroom. "I didn’t know you and Angel…knew each other, lass."
"We’re new friends," she said, snatching Angel’s boxers from the under the table and wiggling into them. She grabbed Angel’s t-shirt from the pile as well and headed back to the bathroom to put it on. She didn’t have a problem with being naked in front of Doyle. He had certainly seen her breasts more than once, but she was sure Angel would be angry if she changed in front of his friend. He was strangely formal about stuff like that.
She followed Doyle into the kitchen and poured coffee from the still sputtering brew. She learned a few days ago that it stopped when you took the pot out. She even poured Angel a cup as a kind of peace offering. Doyle poured JD into his and offered her some, but she shook her head. She didn’t need oblivion with Angel, but sneaking a glance at Doyle, she saw he was stunned by her refusal.
Buffy didn’t know if Doyle would have said anything or not, but either way, he was cut short when Angel entered the apartment. The look on Angel’s face told Buffy that he was irritated to find her and Doyle so cozy in the kitchen. Gods, what was his problem? Buffy knew that some guys would get all freaky territorial after you fucked them, though few did so with her, but that wasn’t what was up with Angel. He’d been like this since they first started hanging out.
Whatever.
Buffy gave up trying to figure him out and handed him the mug of coffee. Looking slightly mollified, he accepted the coffee and handed her the bag of assorted bagels and pastries. Her little squee of delight as she opened the bag brought a reluctant smile to Angel’s lips.
Doyle stared at both of them like they’d grown two heads and decided that his company was no longer required. He drank the hot coffee and JD mixture as fast as he could, grimacing as he finally set the empty mug in the sink. "If I don’t get going now, I’ll be late for work," he said, exiting the kitchen.
Angel waited until he could hear Doyle at the door and he yelled, "I’ll walk you down to your car."
Buffy was standing at the counter, pulling items out of the bag and setting them on a plate. Not because it was more civilized, but because then she could carefully study all her options. Angel couldn’t help but chuckle. He walked up behind her, bracing his arms against the counter on either side of her and leaned down, nuzzling into the sensitive space behind her ear. Buffy shivered. "Save me a bagel," he said softly, then quickly nipped at her earlobe before turning and jogging after Doyle.
Doyle was already unlocking the door to his car by the time Angel got downstairs. They glanced at each other awkwardly.
"I don’t know why you just don’t move back down here," Angel said. "You’re here three days a week and then you have to drive two hours back for that damn job."
Doyle shrugged. He knew that Angel hadn’t followed him all the way outside to talk about his daily commute. "Whatever you do and whoever you do it with is your business, Angel."
Angel frowned, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "It’s not ... I mean, we’re just..." He sighed, rolling his eyes at his own confusion. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything," Angel said seriously. "Between Cordy and Darla, I’d never hear the fucking end of it and they’d do their best to chase Buffy clear outta town."
Doyle looked at the friend he’d known since freshman year in high school. Angel was a good guy. Sure, he got around – with his looks and money, how could he not - but he never disrespected any of his girls and he didn’t kiss and tell. "You keepin’ an eye out for her?" Doyle asked.
Angel nodded slowly. "I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same."
Doyle forced his expression to be neutral, but he couldn’t honestly believe what Angel was saying. Sure, Doyle had slept with Buffy a few times. Hell, everyone had slept with Buffy a few times. But for someone like Angel, someone who could have Darla Weston in his bed any day of the week, to be taking care of Buffy Summers was so far outside the realm of possibility it was laughable.
But Angel wasn’t laughing. At first Doyle just assumed Angel had picked up Buffy at a party like everyone else did, brought her home for some fun. But from their obvious breakfast ritual and the fact that Buffy kept a set of clothes at his apartment – even if the clothes in question had originally belonged to Angel – there was obviously a whole lot more going on.
"Your secret’s safe with me," Doyle said. "And I’ll keep an eye on the lass."
"Thanks, Doyle."
"Don’t you have class?" Buffy asked, when Angel came back up to the apartment a few minutes later. She was in the midst of choosing her next pastry, her hand hovering over the plate. Just the possibility of choices and so many of them made her so happy. She grinned at him when he came in and then looked down at her breakfast again.
"I’m taking a day off," he said, pressing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Did you eat my bagel?"
"Yep," she said, nodding, "and it was yummy."
She squealed as he turned her around and set her up on the counter, before insinuating himself between her legs. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looked down on him with a mock scowl. "You’re gettin’ in the way of my breakfast, son," she drawled playfully.
"You are breakfast," he answered, nipping her breast through her shirt. He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her mouth to his lips, kissing her so deftly her bare toes curled. She wrapped her legs more tightly around him and he lifted her away from the counter. He kept kissing her as he walked her back to the bedroom.
She held on to him tightly and kissed him back for all she was worth, stunned by his attention to her, by his playful sexiness. Buffy wasn’t used to this sort of treatment. She was usually just a party favor, someone to climb on top of in a dark corner. Angel treated her like she was his lover, like they were in a relationship or something. It was as confusing as it was arousing.
They made short work of their clothes and Buffy was surprised when instead of just driving it home and taking what he wanted, he started kissing down her neck before moving down her body, leaving a scorching trail as he went. He spent an inordinate amount of time on her breasts, licking, nibbling and suckling her aching nipples until she was gasping in pleasure.
"Angel, please," she panted. He abandoned her breasts and made his way down her body. He dipped his tongue in her belly button and she giggled nervously. When he settled between her thighs, pressing his face into her sex, she gasped. "What the fuck are you doing?" she tried to demand, but her voice just came out breathy, in an almost purr.
"Shhh," he whispered. "Just close your eyes and let me taste you." No doubt Buffy thought she was knowledgeable about sex. And Angel didn’t have any trouble believing that she had slept with enough men to feel she was justified in making that assessment. But just as obvious was the fact that no one had ever gone down on her before. Angel wasn’t shocked by that. He doubted that any of her partners had ever given a damn about her pleasure.
"Angel," she whimpered, squirming beneath him. Whether she was trying to squirm away or squirm closer, Angel wasn’t sure.
He used his hands on her hips to hold her still as he nuzzled against the wiry hairs covering her sex. With his tongue he parted the seam between her nether lips, tentatively tasting her. She was aroused. He could smell the heady fragrance of her feminine musk. But she wasn’t wet. Not like she’d been last night. He wanted to get her back to that place where she was mindless in her need for him.
He shifted, pressing his face more fully against her folds, tasting her more intimately. As his tongue laved over her clit, she yelped, jumping like electricity was arching through her veins. He did it again.
Over and over he tasted her, releasing his hold on her hips at one point so he could carefully manipulate her clit with his fingers while his tongue stabbed inside her achingly empty channel. She was whimpering, her body beaded with perspiration as her hips arched up against him in a demanding rhythm. He gave her what she wanted, latching onto her clit, suckling as two fingers pumped in and out of her sheath. She came, chanting his name as her back arched off the bed, her fingers fisted in the sheets.
He watched her orgasm wash over her, watched her heaving breasts, her hair messily scattered over the pillows. He let his head fall against her thigh, one hand gently caressing her hip as he waited for her to recover.
She shifted under him and he lifted his head, looking up at her. She opened her arms and he gladly stalked up her body. He kissed her, half wondering if she would be grossed out, but Buffy didn’t miss a beat, shoving her tongue down his throat. Angel threaded his fingers through her beautiful hair, kissing her long and hard. When she began plaintively arching up against him, he reached into the nightstand and grabbed another condom.
She was just as tight and hot and responsive as he remembered and Angel groaned at the exquisite sensation. Barring every other concern he had, Angel had to admit that Buffy was a phenomenal lay. She fit him perfectly, matched him in every way. She was so little, so seemingly fragile, but her passion threatened to burn him alive. He buried himself in her time and time again, relishing her breathy little grunts, her throaty moans of delight.
Snaking one hand between their bodies, he rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts, wanting to feel her coming around him again, wanting to give her the same pleasure she gave him. Her body was already primed for him and in mere moments she was sobbing her release, her fingernails biting deeply into the flesh of his back. With a shout, Angel joined her in oblivion.
On Saturday morning Buffy woke up with muscles aching that she didn’t even know she had. After spending all day Friday in bed with Angel and all night as well, she was sated and warm. Unlike the other times she’d been with someone, she didn’t feel used. She felt…liked.
She and Angel had coffee and leftover pastries from the day before together and then when it was time to head to the Hyperion, Angel just dropped her off instead of coming inside with her.
"You aren’t coming in?" she asked. Strangely, the idea of spending the day without him was less than desirable.
"I can’t," he said, caressing her delicate jaw. "I have to catch up on everything I didn’t have time to do last week. Why don’t I pick you up for lunch?"
"You don’t have to go out of your way," she said quietly, staring out of the window. Reality was sinking in way too fast for her. She didn’t know how to deal with his kindness. "It’s no big deal."
"I want to have lunch with you," he said firmly. "Will you be out here at 12:30 when I come by?"
"Yeah." She watched as he scanned the parking lot briefly before stealing a quick kiss. She scrambled out of the car and headed for the Hyperion without looking back. It wasn’t like this was some fairy tale and Angel was swooping in to save her from her life of hell. No, he was fucking her and feeding her and giving her a place to stay. He was ashamed of her and she couldn’t really expect anything less from him. She was that kind of girl, one you hid in the darkness.
As she walked inside and began looking for Jenny to get her instructions for the day, she couldn’t help but realize that there was nothing different from what she was doing with Angel and what she did with anyone else. She fucked him for food instead of drugs. The only difference, aside from the mind-blowing orgasms, was that this time she loved the guy. The idea of losing him made her blood turn cold, but she knew it was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before he went back to his classy, beautiful women and left her behind.
Fuck it. She would take what she could get.
She found Jenny in the pantry rummaging through the donated goods. Boxes and paper bags of unsorted food sat around in piles all around her, waiting to be organized. She immediately motioned Buffy over to her.
"Buffy," Jenny began gently, "if you ever need a place to stay, I’ll be glad to find a bed-"
"Forget about it," Buffy said, cutting her off tersely. "I’m not homeless or anything. I just needed a place to crash that night."
Jenny handed her a business card. "Just hold on to this and if you call me, day or night, I’ll find a place for you. There’s no reason to be embarrassed about staying here."
"Yeah," she snorted. "Whatever. Where do you want me?"
Frowning, Jenny let it drop. Buffy was never going to gracefully accept help and Jenny knew enough people like Buffy to know better than to push the situation. "The pantry needs to be organized," she said. "I’ll leave you to it."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Angelus," Darla cursed, sliding into the chair opposite Angel at the large research table. "Do you see what I’ve stooped to?" she demanded, hissing at him. "I have to come to the goddamn library just to get a word with you. On a Saturday morning, no less."
Angel sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Look, Darla-"
"Don’t you dare ‘look, Darla’ me," she snapped. "I am not one of your little undergrad chippies who thinks you’re deep and mysterious and I will not be ignored."
Frowning, Angel sank back in his chair. He should have seen this coming. Even though he and Darla were only loosely involved, he knew she didn’t take well to being ignored. And he had certainly been ducking her for the last few weeks.
All because of Buffy.
Angel suppressed a grimace. He still didn’t really have any idea what was going on with him and Buffy. He’d almost convinced himself that his interest in her was purely platonic. And then, uh, he woke up to her on top of him. And he most certainly hadn’t wanted her to stop. The memory of her perfect breasts, her long, golden hair streaming over her body, the snug fit of her tight little cunt gripping his cock.
He cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. He was half hard just thinking about Buffy. "What do you want, Darla?" he asked wearily.
"I want to know what the hell is going on," Darla demanded. "I know we aren’t monogamous but you won’t just write me off without a word. I know when I’m being dodged."
"I’ve just been busy. I was in Chicago all last week because someone got sick. I had to take over everything at the last minute and since I wasn’t the one originally going, I wasn’t able to prepare, so now I’m swamped with work-"
"Bullshit," she growled. "Who is she?"
"I’m telling you the truth," he said honestly. He was telling the truth. Not all of it, but mostly.
"Oh, I know you are, lover. I know you’re really busy. Now who is she and how is this going to affect us?"
Speechless, Angel shifted his eyes to his book. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone about Buffy, but he wasn’t ready to give her up either. He also wasn’t ready to write off Darla. He’d been with her on and off for years. She was a great lay and a fun companion. He couldn’t just give her up either.
"I don’t want it to be over with us," he said quietly.
"Then you’re free to take me out tonight?" she challenged.
"No, I’m busy," he said, setting his jaw.
"Well, when you’re ready to give me some of your precious time, Angelus, give me a call," she snarled. "Maybe I’ll just ask around and find out who you’ve been fucking."
"Darla, don’t get involved in this," Angel warned in low voice.
"Oh, I’m involved, lover. Your little cock tease is about to get a run for her money."
"Darla!" he growled as she stood up from the table. Glances were shot their way but they both ignored them.
"Don’t you dare," she hissed. "I look the other way while you fuck little undergrads, but I won’t be tossed aside for one of them." With that, she snatched up her purse and slithered from the library, leaving him to deal with the stares and her threat.
"Fuck," he muttered, slamming his book shut.
Angel was so far behind that it would have taken him hours to catch up. But his usually unflappable attention to detail was completely shattered by his earlier argument with Darla. He didn't need this bullshit now. He liked Darla. He liked fucking Darla. She wasn't happily ever after material, but she was fucking gorgeous and she looked great on his arm.
Buffy on the other hand … Oh, Buffy was a mess. Everything about her was like a fucking car wreck. Her home life was horrible. Her personal life was horrible. She was broken emotionally. For as good as she was at surviving, she didn't know shit about taking care of herself. She had zero self-esteem, no money, no education, no resources, no friends, no support system, no job. She was a criminal with a foul mouth a waspish temper and he was fairly certain she intended to abscond with every last piece of clothing he owned.
But he did have to admit that she looked damn good in his clothes. The memory of her standing in the hallway wearing nothing but his leather jacket …
Fuck.
The bottom line was that Buffy did not fit in his life. They were night and day in every single aspect. But there was something about her that just drew him in, even when she was spitting vinegar at him. He couldn't turn away. He just wanted to hold her in his arms and soothe away the hurts of the world. And the worst part was that in her own way, she let him. And he knew that she didn't accept comfort from anyone. Buffy let him in when she wouldn't let anyone else in. That just tore at his heart.
He sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes. Damn, how long had he been at the library? It must have been …
Angel froze. Then in a burst of panic, looked at his watch. Fuck! It was after ten in the evening. Shit! He was supposed to have picked her up for lunch. Goddammit! He cursed himself, quickly throwing his books into his backpack and running for the door. He forgot to pick her up for lunch; he forgot to pick her up after she got off her shift. God fucking dammit. Angel knew how tenuous Buffy's trust was. She would read into this. She would think he was abandoning her. Angel's blood ran cold at the thought of what she might do. She had nowhere to go, no one to trust.
Frantically, he dialed the number to the shelter as he jogged to the car. A short conversation with Jenny told him that Buffy had been her usual caustic self at work all day, but that she had left at her normal time. No, no one had seen if someone picked her up or if she walked.
Angel snapped the phone shut, cursing again as he unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel. Saturday night was a big party night at Caritas. Angel had seen fliers plastered all over campus. He figured that would be his best bet. Even though it was early, the club was already packed. Angel searched out all the corners, even going so far as to check the women's restroom. Buffy wasn't anywhere to be found.
Gods, how could he have been such an ass? Sure, Darla threw him, but what had he been thinking forgetting Buffy? He was frantic to find her, frantic that she might resort to her self-destructive behavior. And truth be told, he was absolutely terrified at the idea of not seeing her again.
He drove to her house. The lights were on. Angel threw the car in park, jumping up and bounding up the stairs. He pushed open the door without knocking, yelling, "Buffy?"
"What the fuck do you want?" a voice snarled.
Angel turned, seeing the man he knew must have been Buffy's stepfather. Fifteen, twenty years ago, the guy was probably a ladies man. But now … Gods, he was nothing more than a shriveled up husk of a man, twisted and contorted by misery. He reeked of booze and stale sweat. This was the man Buffy had been left with when her mother died. Angel swallowed harshly, choking back nausea. An innocent child had been left alone with this man. And no one had stepped in to fight for her.
"You looking for the little whore?" Ethan demanded, slurring drunkenly.
"Where's Buffy?" Angel bit out.
Ethan laughed, a cold, dead sound. "Little whore's probably out getting drugged up and fucked as usual," he said, smiling maliciously. "Like a goddamn cat in heat, that one. 'Course, I understand the little bitch's appeal. She takes it like a pro. None of that crying and screaming bullshit. Just lays there all still-like, lets a man have his way. Yeah, I taught her right."
Angel didn't even think about it, he just reached out and grabbed the man, slamming him into the wall with all of his strength. Ethan took a gasping breath, clawing at Angel's hands, trying to get away. But fighting Angel wasn't like fighting a starving teenage girl. Ethan was absolutely no match.
"Do you know where Buffy is?" Angel demanded, snarling every word in Ethan's face.
Ethan stared at him with unbridled rage. "Haven't seen the little bitch in days," he spat.
Angel wanted nothing more than to cave Ethan's face in, but he forced himself to let him go. "If you ever touch her again," Angel swore, "I will fucking kill you."
Ethan snorted in disgust, but backed away. Sick to his stomach, Angel turned and left the house.
He drove around campus for hours looking for Buffy, but found no sign of her. Once again, Spike's apartment was dark. Defeated, Angel finally headed home.
The apartment was dark and he dropped his bag on the floor, leaning wearily against the recently closed door. Gods, he fucked up. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. If anything happened to Buffy he was never going to forgive himself. He flipped on the hall light and slowly trudged down the hall. He stopped in the doorway to his room, leaning forlornly against the doorjamb.
"Angel?"
Angel's head snapped up and he almost wept at the sight that met him. Buffy, obviously groggy from sleep, snuggled up in his bed wearing one of his t-shirts.
"Buffy," Angel groaned, going to the bed and pulling her into his arms. "I am so fucking sorry. Gods, baby, I looked everywhere for you. I’m so sorry."
"I was wondering what happened," she said, yawning. "When you didn’t come for me, I just came home."
"I just lost track of time," he admitted, running his fingers through her tangled hair. "I was so worried."
"Worried?" she echoed, blinking at him in confusion. "About what?"
"That…fuck, I don’t know. I thought you would think that I abandoned you," he admitted. His heart was still racing from the hours he had run around town in a frantic search for her. He couldn’t explore what that meant or why he was so afraid of what might have happened.
"I was mostly thinking ‘where the fuck is he’," she admitted shrugging. "I figure if you want me to leave, you’ll just toss my ass out. Besides, I have a key again, remember?"
"Yeah," he said, pulling her close for a kiss. He pulled away and looked over her. "You hungry?"
"Starving," she admitted, smacking a kiss on his jaw. Smiling happily at him she suggested, "Pizza?"
That night when they went to bed, Angel acted like she was going to break. It was all soft caresses and sweet nothings in her ear. Truthfully, she had been a little nervous when he never came home, but she wasn’t going to leave until he actually tossed her out. She loved him and even if he never knew that she would take as much time as she had to be with him.
His concern for her seriously rocked her to the core. She had never had anyone worried about her before. Not in a very long time, anyway. She didn’t even know how to deal with the fact that he cared enough to be sorry for something he had done. So late in the night when she was cuddled in his tight embrace, she blinked back the tears and thanked whatever powers that be for him.
In the morning, she woke before him as usual and turned over to look at him. He really did look like an angel. He was so beautiful that sometimes she wanted to touch him just to see if he was real. Sadly, she knew he wasn’t. He was a passing gift in her wreck of a life.
Gently, she urged him to roll over onto his back and took his cock in her hands carefully. She tossed her hair to the side and leaned down, taking him into her mouth, caressing and suckling him to hardness. In the dark, he hissed in pleasure in his sleep. He hardened quickly from her manipulations and she swirled her tongue around the tip of his aching cock. She eagerly licked and nibbled the underside of his shaft before covering his length with wet kisses.
She glanced up when his fingertips lightly caressed her jaw, staring down at her with passion blazing in his dark eyes. Taking her cue, she closed her mouth over the head of his cock once more. He breathed a sigh of relief when her hot mouth finally covered him. Her talented mouth worked over him, taking in more with every stroke.
"Gods, Buffy, you’re so fucking good at that," he groaned, arching into her hot mouth. She hummed around him, moving down further until he was gurgling and groaning with pleasure. Taking pride in his obvious pleasure, she doubled her efforts until he cried out in release.
Smiling in self-satisfaction, Buffy crawled up his body, snuggling against him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the still pounding beat of his heart. Angel’s hand sifted through her hair, carefully combing through the long tresses.
Buffy was stretching when she felt Angel’s body go rigid underneath her. "Shit," he cursed, quickly scurrying out of bed and jumping into his sweatpants. He looked at Buffy, his eyes wide. "Wait here. I’ll be right back."
Buffy sat in bed, staring at the now closed door. Little by little, she inched out of bed. She picked up Angel’s discarded shirt off the floor and shrugged into it, walking to the bedroom door. She opened the door a crack and listened.
"Cordy, now is not a good time," Angel said sharply.
"What is your deal?" Cordelia demanded. "You’re always such a fucking grouch. And if anyone has the right to be nasty, it’s me. I talked to Mom yesterday. She says you’ve been giving Buffy Summers rides down to the shelter. What the fuck is up with that?"
"That is none of your business," Angel said, trying to shoo his sister to the door.
"Is she here now?" Cordelia asked, her face set in firm lines.
"Don’t be ridiculous," Angel scoffed.
"Angelus Chase," Cordy snapped. "Are you fucking Buffy Summers?"
Angel sputtered, rolling his eyes at his sister. "Of course not," he lied uncomfortably.
Cordelia looked him up and down, obviously unconvinced. Something was up with her brother and she intended to get to the bottom of it. "You better not be," Cordelia told him darkly. "If you stick your dick in that drugged up little whore, my reputation may never recover. You may be done with undergrad life, but I’m just starting and I’m not about to be a social pariah because of your tasteless hormones."
"Oh, well, by all means then," Angel snapped sarcastically, "I’ll try to control myself for your benefit."
She frowned severely at him. "I’m not kidding, Angel."
"Go away, Cordelia," he grumped. "I have company."
"It better not be Buffy."
"It’s not Buffy!" he yelled, glaring at his sister. "Now go."
With a very unladylike snort, she turned and headed for the door.
Angel waited until Cordy was gone, then flipped the deadbolt and secured the chain on the door. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. Goddammit, what was he going to do? He cringed, hoping Buffy hadn’t heard the conversation. With a groan, he headed back to his bedroom where he met Buffy exiting. "Hey," he said softly.
"Hey," she chirped brightly, even though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. "I’m just going to take a real quick shower."
She brushed past him and Angel caught her arm, forcing her to look at him. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Fine," she lied, hoping he didn’t notice how brittle her smile was. She tugged on her arm and he released her.
She managed to start the shower and climb inside before she started crying. She sank down, sitting on the shower floor as water pounded over her. Damn Angel and damn her. What was she thinking getting involved with him? With anyone else, she would have been prepared for that reaction, she could have let their words roll off her back like nothing. But when Angel had so vehemently denied being involved with her, it hurt. Oh, it more than hurt, she thought she was going to die.
It took Buffy twenty minutes to compose herself enough that she was certain she wouldn’t break down in front of Angel. When she finally left the bathroom, he was sitting at the small table flipping through more files. "Get dressed," he said without looking up. "I called Jenny. She knows you’re taking the day off."
"Day off?"
Looking up, Angel’s breath caught at the sight of her wrapped in nothing but the vibrant blue towel, her hair streaming over her shoulders. He swallowed thickly. "We’re going to the mall," he said. "I’m getting you a cell phone."
"I don’t understand," she said, looking at him in confusion.
"If I get wrapped up in work again, you can call me instead of walking home like last time," he said, shrugging. "It’ll make me feel better to know you have one."
"I don’t need a cell phone," Buffy said quietly, trying to keep from crumpling again. He didn’t make any sense. One minute he was denying their involvement to his sister and the next moment he was doing something that seemed like a clear indication that he planned on being a part of her life. It was bewildering.
"All you have to do is put it in your pocket, Buffy," he said. "You don’t even have to give out the number. Just keep it in case we need to get a hold of each other."
"It’s expensive," she said, heading to the bedroom to get dressed, knowing he would follow. She now kept her clothes in a pile beneath the bedside table. Just the sight of them there was a sure sign of what they weren’t. She didn’t even have a drawer. She blinked back tears as she dropped the towel and began to get dressed.
"I can afford it," he said from the doorway.
"I know you can," she said. "That’s not the point. Besides, usually they have contracts or something, don’t they?"
"Yeah. So?"
"So," she said, keeping her back to him as she shimmied into her panties and then her cargo pants. "It’ll just be a mess for you to clean up later. It really doesn’t make any sense for a girl like me to have a cell phone."
"Let me worry about it," he said. "You ready?"
It was early enough that the mall was still largely in the domain of the mall-walkers. There were only a few legitimate customers milling about. Angel was guiltily happy about that. He wasn't in the mood to run into anyone he knew and have to explain the fact that he was shopping with Buffy. It was nobody's business.
While Angel was finishing up the paper work at the little cell phone kiosk, Buffy milled around, looking in store windows and generally ignoring him. He still couldn't figure out why she was so adamantly opposed to him buying her a cell phone. But at least she'd gone from arguing to simply ignoring.
As the clerk finished entering the information in the computer, Angel turned around, leaning against the counter, watching Buffy. Her arms were crossed defiantly over her chest as she stared at the window display, but the expression on her face wasn't defiant, or even disgusted, as he might have expected. It was wistful, sad even.
The realization hit Angel like a physical blow. Aside from the clothes that she had taken from him, Angel had only ever seen Buffy in two different pairs of pants and a handful of threadbare t-shirts. Even five minutes ago, if you would have asked him about it, Angel would have said Buffy wore only what she wanted to wear. He figured she dressed in her baggy cargo pants and her non-descript shirts because she liked them. But watching her now, he wondered if there wasn't another reason.
"Here you are, sir," the clerk said, handing him a small bag.
"Thanks," Angel said, distracted. All of his attention was still focused on Buffy. He took the bag and walked slowly toward where she looked in at a chic little outfit in the window display. The halter and form fitting black pants would look fantastic on his new lover. He nudged her gently.
"Why don’t you go try it on?" he suggested, nodding at the outfit when she turned to look at him incredulously. He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her into the store. He smiled at the clerk who ignored Buffy and walked straight to him, looking over his expensive clothing with approval.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.
Angel lugged Buffy’s bags to the tenth store – at the very least – that they had been to that day, wishing to fucking god he hadn’t suggested Buffy buy clothes. After her initial hesitation, she dove into the luxury of taking whatever she wanted off the racks. She spent an obscene amount of his money already and if she hadn’t been modeling all those sexy clothes for him, he would have demanded they leave seven stores ago. As she giddily approached yet another store, Angel finally balked.
"Uh uh," he grunted. "That’s it. I can’t take another minute of this."
"Angel," she groaned, tugging on his arm. "Look." He followed her pointing finger to a rack of leather pants and felt her press her body against his. He scowled for good measure as he looked down on her sweet face.
"Can you really tell me you don’t want to see me in those pants?" she asked seductively.
"Fine," he growled out, striding toward the store, "but that’s it and I mean it. No more shopping."
"That’s it," she echoed, making her way to the rack and flipping through the leather pants.
"Unless you want to buy lingerie," Angel amended. "But then that’s it."
"Right," she nodded, biting back at smile. She chose a black pair after carefully looking through them and then grabbed another pair of red at the last moment. She spun around with her choices and smacked a kiss on his lips. "You know, I probably should at least have one little thong," she purred.
"Goddammit," he grumbled as she headed for the dressing room, but he couldn’t argue. She did need one little thong and maybe another dozen to go with it.
Buffy and Angel were finally leaving the lingerie store an hour and half later, when they nearly collided into someone. They weren’t paying attention the people around them - mostly because Buffy was already talking about modeling the lingerie when they got home.
"Oh, excuse me," Buffy chirped, stepping out of the way before really looking at the person in front of them.
"Buffy," Graham said in surprise and then glanced at her companion. "And…Angelus Chase."
"Graham," Angel replied curtly in greeting.
"I didn’t know you two knew each other," he said, obviously stunned and simultaneously taking notes as he looked over the multiple bags Angel was carrying, which all seemed to be from women’s stores.
"Yeah, well, it’s a small world," Buffy blurted, unsure of how to handle the situation.
"Buffy and I volunteer together at a homeless shelter," Angel answered easily. "We were just shopping for some donations. It’s hard to get nice, durable clothes donated year around."
"Lingerie?" Graham asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, homeless people need panties too," Buffy said irritably. "See you around, Graham."
Buffy ignored Angel's frown of disapproval as she braced her booted feet against the dash. It shouldn't bother her. It shouldn't. But as she blinked away tears, staring out the window, she couldn't deny that it did hurt.
What the fuck was up with him anyway? It wasn't like she wasn't used to this situation. She fucked a lot of guys to get the things she needed, like drugs or a safe place to sleep for the night, but with Angel, it was different. She wasn't fucking him as payment, or because he expected it. She was fucking him because she loved him. Dammit!
She blinked quickly, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to cry. Not in front of him. For whatever misguided reasons, he had just spent a ton of money on her. She had a cell phone and more clothes than she could remember ever having in her entire life. He didn't need to do that. He shouldn't have done that. How fucking stupid for him to buy all that crap for some girl he was just screwing.
But then she remembered the way his eyes looked - dark with passion - when she modeled the little sheer nightgown for him.
Yeah. Asshole. Because ten minutes later they ran into Graham and Angel played it off perfectly, like they were just co-workers. Whatever. What did she expect? That he was going to introduce her to Graham as his girlfriend? That he was going to publicly claim the community whore? No way. Angel may have been a nice guy, but he wasn't a total chump. Buffy learned long ago that a lot of guys who wouldn't give her the time of day in public had no problem fucking her into a mattress when no one was looking. Why should it shock her that Angel wasn't any different?
Because he's the first one I've loved, she thought.
Fuck it.
"Drop me of at the shelter," Buffy said tersely.
Angel looked over at her. "I already told Jenny you were taking the day off."
"Fuck you, you told Jenny," she spat. "It's my life. Take me to the shelter. You might be able to drop in whenever you fucking feel like it but some of us are court ordered to be there and I really don't feel like having my probation officer on my back."
"Fine," Angel said, taking the next corner far too fast and zooming off toward the shelter. He didn't even know why he was mad. Buffy was right. She did need to be at the shelter.
But he'd had plans to lounge around the apartment with her, watching her model her new clothes, definitely fucking her in more than a few of them. But she was right. That knowledge didn't really account for the fact that he was in an awful temper when he finally screeched to a halt in front of the Hyperion.
When Angel returned to the Hyperion to pick Buffy up at five, she wasn’t outside waiting like usual. Frowning, he pulled into the parking lot and stepped out after waiting ten minutes for her to show. He had spent the afternoon fuming over her going to work instead of coming home. He was pissed and he didn’t even know why he was pissed. She had a right to show up for her community service hours.
He stalked into the hotel and slipped up the stairs without drawing attention to himself. It was one thing to give Buffy rides back and forth, but it was another to go inside and seek her out like some big boner with legs. He finally found her on the third floor in one of the back bedrooms sanding down joint compound sloppily applied. He stepped inside the room watched for a second. She was wearing a facemask over her nose and mouth and was covered in white dust from head to toe from sanding all day. She was attacking the wall like she expected it to fight back.
"Buffy," Angel said finally, "it’s almost 5:30. You want to go?"
"No," she said, stiffening. "I need to catch up on the hours that I missed this morning. I’ll just walk home later.’
"You can come in one day this week if you want to catch up," he offered. "It’s been a long day. Why don’t you come home? You’re probably hungry. We forgot about lunch."
"Just let me work, Angel," she growled, sanding harder. She kept her back to him as tears welled in her eyes. She had all day to work off her anger, but she just worked herself up more. She sniffled while trying not to breathe in the dust flying off the wall before her.
"Hey," he said, gently covering her hand with his to stop her from sanding. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," she choked, pulling her hand away from his and going to the open window. She yanked the mask off and leaned out the window, taking deep breaths of fresh air.
"Why are you upset with me?" he asked again, standing closely behind her.
"I just don’t understand you, that’s all," she answered, keeping her back to him.
"What do you mean?"
"If you think I’m a worthless whore and you can’t admit you’re fucking me, I’m wondering why you bother doing things like buying me clothes or getting me a cell phone," she said, turning around to face him. The tears welling in her eyes began to slip out and she swiped at them angrily, leaving streaks in the white dust on her face. "Why do you bother treating me like you care, when you obviously don’t?"
"I do care," he answered, stepping forward.
"Bullshit," she shouted, moving away. "You don’t care about me, Angel. You couldn’t possibly. If you did you wouldn’t treat me like some dirty little secret. You wouldn’t have lied to Graham this morning or your sister."
"It’s complicated," Angel said carefully. "Why don’t we go home and then we can work this out, okay?"
"Oh yeah," Buffy blurted, striding toward the door. "Why don’t we go home to your apartment where you can dress me up to be your own private fuck doll, where no one could possibly overhear? Fuck you, Angel."
"Wait," he shouted, pulling her back. "Where the hell are you going?"
"Does it even matter?" she cried, letting the tears flow down her cheeks. "Why did you buy me all that stuff today? WHY? Why did you make me feel like I was worth something? Just let me go, goddammit."
"Buffy," he said, holding onto her as she tried to yank herself away.
"What?" she sobbed, beating her fists against his chest. "You’re worse than all those other guys! At least with them, I knew where I stood. I knew what they thought of me, but you, YOU made me think you were different, that you gave a flying fuck, but you don’t."
"I do care about you!" he roared, shaking her. "I just didn’t know how to handle telling people about us. I’m not letting you walk away from me."
"Fuck you, Angel," she sobbed, leaning into his chest because there was nowhere else to go. "Fuck you."
Angel wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His eyes closed as he hugged her tighter. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't ashamed of her, but the words wouldn't come. Because they weren't true. He was ashamed and Buffy could see that even when he couldn't. He mentally cursed himself.
"I thought we were going back to the apartment," Buffy said, her voice scratchy and low.
"Do you mind if we go out?" he asked. He knew it was half-hearted and he knew he was only trying to alleviate his guilt. But still, it was all he was capable of at the moment.
"Whatever," she said wearily, and honestly, she didn't care.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of a small duplex. Following Angel's lead, Buffy opened her door and got out. "I thought Doyle moved," she said.
"He did," Angel answered, "but last week he decided to move back. Oz never did find another roommate so I'm sure he's glad to have him back in the - " Angel fell silent and stopped in his tracks. Turning, he looked at Buffy. "How did you know Doyle used to live here?"
Buffy laughed. She was in absolutely no mood to placate Angel's ego. "How the fuck do you think I knew where he lived, Angel?" she asked in a biting tone.
Angel's jaw muscles tightened, but he remained silent. He knew that Buffy was baiting him, throwing her past in his face. He also knew that despite anything she might have done in the past that she wasn't messing around now and she wasn't doing drugs. Every night she was with him and him alone. Angel swallowed his pride and grinned. "Well, I'm not telling you how I knew where he lived either," he said with a smirk.
Buffy stared at him like he'd spoken in another language and then laughed. Shaking her head, she walked to the front door with Angel. Instead of knocking, he pressed her against the door and kissed her soundly.
"I’m going to make it up to you," he said, between kisses. She stiffened and pulled away from his lips. For a second, she had forgotten. It was hard to remember she was a whore when she was in the arms of the man she loved.
"No," he said, cupping her cheek. "I mean it. I won’t hide us anymore. I want to be with you, Buffy."
"Do you really?" she asked, her lower lip trembling.
"I really do," he answered, kissing her. "Okay?"
"Asshole," she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. Keeping her closely against him, he knocked on the door.
It wasn't a party. A few movies, a pizza and some beers with Doyle and Oz weren’t exactly going to make Buffy and Angel a public item. But still, it was a start. Oz's girlfriend, Willow, showed up around midnight and her eyes went wide as she saw who was cuddled up next to Angel. To his credit, Angel introduced Willow to Buffy like Willow would have no reason to know who his newest girlfriend was. Being a genuinely sweet person, Willow played along.
Buffy had a few beers and snuggled up next to Angel, only half paying attention to the movies. She was sleepy and sated and safe. She smiled as Angel pulled the tie out of her hair and slowly ran his fingers through her braided tresses. "I love your hair," he whispered, burying his nose in the long locks.
"I know," she said smugly.
What must have been hours later, Buffy woke groggily to Angel nudging her toward the door. She was sleepy and only half-aware as he bundled her out to the car and drove back to the apartment. Long minutes later, she sighed in relief as she pillowed her head on his chest. Like everything else in her life, this relationship was completely fucked up, but at the moment, she really couldn't be bothered to care about that. Right now she was safe and warm and cuddled in the arms of the man she loved. It couldn't last, but for now, it was enough.
Buffy really did think Angel was making an effort in the beginning. It seemed like he was anyway. Over the weeks that passed, he took her out to dinner and to the movies, they hung out with his friends from time to time and it was fun pretending that they were her friends too. She wore her new clothes all the time and eventually threw her old ones away. She was glad to be rid of them. It was a cleansing of sorts to not have to ever put on those worn cargo pants again.
Angel was loving and sweet. They made love constantly and were together as much as possible. It was perfect, like a little honeymoon. He loved calling her on her phone during the day when they couldn’t be together, telling her he couldn’t wait to get her home, whispering naughty suggestions in her ear.
Her belly was full and she was warmer than she had ever been. She loved waking up in the mornings in Angel’s arms and going to sleep in them at night. She couldn’t get enough of the passion burning in his dark eyes for her. She even had money in her pocket and clean, new clothes on her back. Everything should have been perfect…but it wasn’t.
It didn’t take long to notice that the movie theatres they went to were never the ones where a UCLA student could possibly see them. The restaurants were nice, but not hangouts of people they knew, not places where his family or his family’s influential friends might frequent. He never went to the Hyperion with her even though he picked her up and dropped her off every Saturday and Sunday. If he did go in, he left her immediately to talk to his mother. He didn’t touch her there and it was obvious that he had no intention of ever telling his family that she was living with him.
Buffy waited for the day when he took her to a college party or introduced her as his girlfriend to anyone besides Doyle, Oz and Willow, but she had the nagging feeling he never would. She was still a dirty little secret, only now more people were in on it.
She tried not to think about it. She placated herself with how happy she was with him, how he would come around. He never treated her like she was worthless, he trusted her and he went above and beyond to make sure she knew she meant something to him. Hell, she knew the pin number to his ATM card. That was something, wasn’t it?
"Hey," Angel said as he came inside the apartment and dropped off his books on the end table before leaning down over the couch and getting a hello kiss from Buffy. He smiled. It was becoming a ritual for him. He came home from school, got a passionate kiss from his little live-in lover and usually was semi hard by the time they broke apart.
"Mmmm hey," she answered against his lips. She bounded up from where she was studying for her G.E.D and smiled winningly at him. "Guess what?"
"What?" he said, shrugging off his new leather jacket. He had to buy it to replace the one he had given her.
"I went to the grocery store today and I’m cooking dinner," she announced proudly. Her happiness about a simple meal was infectious and soon he was looking forward to whatever burnt concoction she was whipping up.
"You are cooking?" he asked incredulously, pulling her into his arms. "What are we having? Filet mignon followed by crème brulee?"
"Yes, baby," she said, rolling her eyes and smacking a kiss on his cheek. "With a side of burnt toast and jelly."
"My favorite," he chuckled, nibbling on her neck. She squirmed away with a giggle and took him by the hand, leading him into the kitchen. Everything was neatly set out for the meal, ready to be cooked.
"Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup," she exclaimed happily. "I even know how to cook it cause my mom used to make for me all the time. It was my favorite."
"I can’t wait," he said honestly. He knew she was normally overly happy about meals and food in general since she had gone without so many times, but this was different. There was a childish delight on her face that he hadn’t seen before. While it was intriguing, it also made him a little sad. She should have been free to make grilled cheese sandwiches all she wanted while she was growing up.
"I’m going to start cooking and you…answer the door," Buffy said when a knock sounded as she started to speak. She was humming happily and opening the can of tomato soup when a female voice purred from the other room. She assumed it was Doyle or Oz, who stopped by from time to time, but now her curiosity got the best of her. She moved to the kitchen door to look out and eavesdrop. A beautiful dark haired girl stood at the door pawing her man. She scowled and leaned in to listen.
"I haven’t seen you in a long time Angel," she said throatily, rubbing his chest with her bright red claws. "We used to see each other at least once a week. I think someone’s been avoiding me."
"Been busy, Gwen," he said, making no move to stop her from molesting him. "I’m sorry I haven’t called."
"Busy tonight?" she asked, moving in closer to him.
"Actually yeah, I have a dinner date," he said. "She’s in the kitchen, so I’d not like to have you two meet, if you know what I mean."
"Sure," she said, looking disappointed. She stopped touching him, much to Buffy’s pleasure and backed a half step away. "I’ll be waiting for your call, Angel."
Buffy snuck back into the kitchen and hurriedly started cooking. She was upset by the encounter and wasn’t entirely sure why. He turned her away and he was honest that he had a date, but she couldn’t help but want more. She wanted him to tell Gwen that he had a girlfriend now, that he didn’t plan on calling her at all…ever.
She said nothing as he came into the kitchen and began rooting around the refrigerator for something to drink. He didn’t say anything about the visitor either. It was as if there hadn’t been a knock on the door at all.
Buffy was nervous. She kept tugging at her clothes, like that would somehow make her feel more at home in her new, ill-fitting life. She was a poser and she knew it. She didn’t understand why people insisted on pretending like she belonged.
Buffy was dragged from her self-loathing ruminations as Willow entered the small coffee shop, waving and smiling brightly. Buffy liked Willow a lot. They were total opposites. Willow was sheltered and quiet, very shy. Needless to say, Buffy was not. But somehow it evened out. They complemented each other.
"Hey," Willow chirped, sliding into the seat across the small table from Buffy.
"Hi," Buffy replied, trying not to duck her head. She realistically knew that she didn’t look completely out of place. Her outfit was stylish without drawing a lot of attention. She was getting good enough with the makeup that her scar was hardly noticeable anymore. But she couldn’t prevent the bone-deep feeling that she was out of place.
"I’m so glad my Bio Chem class got cancelled. This coffee break was just what I needed!"
The conversation lulled as a cute waiter came over to take their orders. Buffy couldn’t help but blush as he openly flirted with her. It was definitely a novel sensation.
"Yeah," Buffy said, resuming their earlier conversation, "I didn’t know about calling you today. I figured you’d be busy, but I thought it was worth a try."
Willow seemed to be stuck by something and frowned. "Buffy, what do you do all day?" she asked, knowing she had never heard Buffy mention a job and that she wasn’t in school.
"Uh," Buffy said lamely, "not a whole lot. I sleep late, sit around the apartment. I clean. Sometimes I help Angel with things if I can."
Willow smiled, her expression a bit incredulous. "Don’t you go insane with boredom?"
There was more smiling as the cute waiter returned and served their drinks. As soon as he was gone, Buffy blushed, staring into her latte. "Well, uh, I’ve kind of sort of started studying ..." she mumbled.
"Studying?" Willow said brightly. "For what?"
Buffy looked up, wincing. She was horribly pathetic and while she had thought she had no self-esteem to salvage, apparently she did, because the subject embarrassed her. "I stopped going to school when I was fourteen. I mean, the truant officers tried for a while to get me to go, but eventually even they stopped. But now ... there’s not a lot to do during the day and so I’ve started studying for my G.E.D."
"Buffy," Willow exclaimed with a smile, "that’s fantastic!"
Blushing, Buffy ducked her head again. "We’ll see if I can even pass," she said wryly.
"You’ll pass," Willow told her firmly. "And then we’ll celebrate."
Against her better judgment, Buffy couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
"You hear me?" Doyle prompted, raising his eyebrows at Angel.
Frowning, Angel shrugged. "I heard," he admitted. He wished he hadn't. It had been a godsend when Darla jetted off to Europe shortly after their argument in the library, ostensibly to study art. Angel knew she was just soothing her bruised ego with daddy's money and euro trash men who would fawn over her like the second coming. But now she was back. Fuck.
"She'll be at the annual Alpha Christmas bash Friday night. She'll expect to see you."
Angel cursed under his breath. Avoiding Darla would not be a good idea. She'd track him down and the whole situation with Buffy would blow up. Dammit.
"Buffy's looking pretty good these days," Doyle said in a calculatedly off-hand manner.
Angel narrowed his eyes at his friend. "You've been looking at Buffy?"
Doyle smiled and held his hands up in surrender. "Buffy and I are of the past," he said. "In fact, I'm pretty sure Buffy and anybody who isn't Angelus Chase are firmly of the past as well."
Slightly mollified, Angel smiled a tight, mirthless smile. "She does look good, doesn't she?" he asked. Doyle didn't answer. He didn't need to. Buffy did look good. Very good. She hadn't had anything stronger than the occasional beer in months, with regular meals her body was now softly curved in an absolutely enticing manner. Slowly, she was losing that vacant, skittish look. She seemed happy, comfortable. She even laughed and smiled now. She was clean and soft and thanks to Angel's pocketbook, clothed in a manner to rival Cordelia. She spent the days while Angel was at class studying and just last week had passed her G.E.D.
Doyle cleared his throat, pulling Angel from his reverie. "You taking Buffy to the party?" he asked pointedly.
Angel snorted. "Are you fucking insane?"
"You like?" Buffy asked, twirling around in front of him in an absolutely killer outfit. The short black leather miniskirt hugged her newfound curves; the v-neck sweater was a deep crimson, made from a material that clung to her body. Her hair was loose, trailing over her shoulders and her gorgeous legs were encased in black stiletto knee-high boots.
"I definitely like," he said, closing on her in a predatory manner.
She giggled, but made only a cursory attempt to get free when he lunged at her. She was still laughing as he placed nipping bites along the nape of her neck. "What's the occasion?" he asked.
She turned around in his embrace, grinning up at him. "I thought I could wear it to the Alpha party on Friday," she said, biting down on her bottom lip and staring up at him from beneath her lashes.
"The Alpha party?" he echoed vacantly.
"Well, yeah," she said. "I thought we could celebrate. I passed my G.E.D and last weekend your mother signed off on my community service papers. I’m completely free now. Don’t you want to go?"
"Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that," he said quickly, stepping away and running a hand through his hair. "My mother wants us all to do the traditional Christmas thing together this year with just family but Dad’s on a business trip in Japan over the holiday. So, she wants to have it over the weekend instead. She asked me to stay at the mansion with her and Dad and Cordy Friday and Saturday night, so I won’t be able to make it to the party."
"Just family," she repeated, looking him over carefully. "Isn’t there some Christmas thing at the homeless shelter over the weekend?" Buffy prodded.
"Mom is skipping out this year," he lied. "She has enough volunteers to handle everything without her."
"Oh," she said, sinking to the couch in regret. She had been so excited about the prospect of going to the Alpha party with Angel. She wanted to go as a normal girl with her boyfriend. Okay, her rich and incredibly handsome boyfriend who she landed when no one else could, but still. She also wanted to test him. The Alpha Christmas bash was the biggest event of the year. Anyone who was anyone was there. Buffy hadn’t missed it in years and she knew Angel hadn’t either. Even in a drug-induced haze, she always noticed his presence.
"We’ll still have Christmas together," he said, sitting next to her, "just not the weekend after." He looked over her for a second and then took a deep breath. "I don’t feel comfortable with you going to the Alpha house without me, Buffy. I know you want to go to the party, but I’m asking you to stay home."
"You don’t trust me?" she said, whipping her head to look at him.
"I trust you," he said honestly. "I don’t trust them. Last time that fuck, Parker Abrams, drugged your drink. I don’t want you to go."
Buffy felt like an idiot and half wished that she still had a ready supply of oblivion in her pocket. It was Friday night, the night of the huge Alpha bash. She was dressed in her new outfit, her boots clicking neatly on the sidewalk.
She was actually going to the party. Alone.
Oh, Angel would be so pissed when he found out, but that wasn't enough to stop her. She didn't know what it was - probably some subconscious desire on her own part to sabotage the best damn relationship she was ever going to have - but she had to go. She hadn't been to an Alpha party since before she and Angel got physical. She wanted to make an appearance. She wanted them to see how nice she'd cleaned up. Of course, it would have been a thousand times better with Angel on her arm, but she'd take what she could get.
She smiled at a few guys as she walked in and they smiled back, grinning wolfishly. It was obvious that they didn't recognize her. It was an odd feeling, and a nice one.
"Hello, beautiful," a familiar voice crooned.
Buffy turned around and smiled at the well-dressed young man. She knew she looked good. She'd tried the outfit out on Angel and knew it was killer. Combined with her upswept hairdo - with skillfully disorganized ringlets springing free - and her touch of makeup, she knew she'd never looked better. "Hello, Riley," she purred with a grin.
He looked puzzled. "Do we know each- " He stopped mid-sentence. "Buffy?" he gasped.
She smiled brightly at him and nodded. He stared at her for a moment, eyeing her up and down, obviously shocked.
"You look…damn, you look fantastic," he said, eyeing her more hungrily than he ever did when they were actually fucking. It was a great feeling. She beamed back and thanked him.
"Can I buy you a beer?" he asked, moving closer.
"I’m seeing someone," she said, making it clear that she wasn’t sharing the goodies tonight with anyone. He looked crestfallen for a second, but quickly recovered.
"So?" he said, offering his arm. "A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t have to buy her own brew. It’s Christmas."
As they stood in the inordinately long keg line, Riley and Buffy chatted about mundane things – things she wouldn’t have chatted with anyone about before. Usually it was about getting drunk or stoned and getting into bed. There was no polite conversation. The whole experience was entirely new.
Course, Buffy wasn’t stupid enough to think that Riley wasn’t hoping she’d get drunk and do him. He was betting on it, but he was sadly mistaken. She was Angel’s now. She warmed to the thought. For the first time in her life, she was spoken for and proud of it.
After they retrieved their beer, which they sipped from large red plastic cups, Riley asked her to go downstairs to the basement. During parties, the Alpha house was pretty much a free for all, but the real fun was in the basement. The large, unfinished space had it’s own keg and a band – usually more than one during the party – and people danced and gyrated drunkenly. The walls were lined with couches, but they couldn’t even see them as they descended the stairs. There were just too many people squeezed in the space.
As she made her way to the dance floor with Riley, she saw a bunch of people she knew. None of them, not one, recognized her. They eyed her up and down because she looked good, but that was it. Even the scar across her lips didn’t give her away. With her cosmetics and the dim lighting, it had all but disappeared.
Oz’s band, Dingoes Ate My Baby, was currently playing. She scanned them unemotionally. With the exception of Willow’s boyfriend, she had fucked the whole band. It seemed like a million years ago. She couldn’t even imagine screwing any of them now. She sighed. She really wished Angel could have come along.
After a few dances, Buffy made her way off of the dance floor. Her new boots were the coolest things she’d ever owned, but they were killing her feet. She scooted along the edge of the room where the couches were lined hoping to find a place to sit. Even the arm of a couch would be a godsend. Riley followed closely behind her, fully intending on making a space next to her wherever she sat.
"Oh, excuse me," she said as she bumped into a couple making out on the edge of the dance floor. She gasped in surprise and backpedaled so quickly that she bumped into Riley and made him drop his beer when she realized that the couple in question was Darla and Angel.
She stared at them for a full thirty seconds, groping each other and making out. All but ignoring her. Tears filled her eyes and she snarled at the same time as she tossed her beer on the couple. Sputtering and cursing, they both looked their attacker.
"You FUCKING DICK!" she screamed. She stumbled away from him, barely able to see through the tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t get away nearly fast enough with all the people in her way.
"BUFFY!" Angel shouted, following her into the throng. As he tried to leave Darla caught his arm. "That is who you’ve been hiding from me? You’ve been fucking Buffy Summers all this time?"
"I don’t have time for this," he said, pulling away.
"You’re leaving me for her?" Darla raged after him.
"I fucking love her," he cast back. He dove back into the people in his way, pushing them harshly aside. "Buffy!" Angel shouted. "Wait, baby, please!"
He caught her in the living room, which was crammed with people. They all stopped with the commotion and watched intently as Angelus Chase desperately cried out to some blonde chick who turned out to be the infamous whore, Buffy Summers.
"Buffy, please," Angel begged, holding her shoulders tightly to keep her squirming body from escaping.
"Let me go, you cheating, lying piece of shit," she shouted. Tears streaked her cheeks and she was all but sobbing as she desperately tried to get away from him.
"I can explain," Angel begged. "Baby, please."
A stiletto heel to his shin freed her and she backed away from him. "You don’t have to explain, Angel. I understand perfectly. You lied to me so you could come here with Darla Weston. I’m not good enough to be seen in public with but she is! Well, fine. Have fun with her, Angel. You won’t have to worry about keeping me your dirty little secret anymore."
"I love you!" Angel shouted. "How public is that?" He waved at the people around him, eavesdropping on their conversation. "I love you, goddammit."
"You don’t love anyone but yourfuckingself," she cried. Reaching in the tiny pocket of her skirt, she produced the key to his apartment and threw it at him. "I’m moving out," she announced, sniffling. Turning, she scanned the party quickly and found that Riley had followed her upstairs.
"Riley, can you give me a ride?" she asked, but Angel grabbed him before he could answer and slammed him against the wall.
"You fucking touch her and-"
Buffy strode forward and got between them, kneeing Angel in the groin. He immediately fell to his knees, cupping himself. "You don’t own me, you fucking prick."
A shaken Riley was lead through the party by Buffy and out to his car, where she too fell to her knees and wept.
In the end, it turned out that Riley did get Buffy Summers in his bed, but it wasn't anything like what he expected. First off, he was on the couch. Secondly, even with his bedroom door closed, he could hear her heartbreaking sobs. Riley didn't know what to think, but he was too much of a nice guy to toss Buffy out into the night, especially since she obviously had nowhere to go. It crossed his mind that six months ago, he probably wouldn't thought anything of throwing her out on her ear, but now … Now she was more than just some anonymous druggie whore. She was a real live person. He spent half the night talking to her. He felt like he knew her. She liked bad ice skating movies and nachos with extra cheese. There was a real person with real feelings behind the mask.
It was probably close to three in the morning when Angel showed up. He tried banging on the door for an hour. Riley called the cops and they chased him off. He was back an hour later, drunk out of his mind, yelling up at Riley's bedroom window, begging Buffy not to sleep with Riley, threatening her if she did, then back to begging again before he finally staggered to his car and passed out.
When Buffy finally emerged from the bedroom, it was obvious she hadn't slept a wink. Her eyes were puffy and red. "I'm so sorry about this, Riley," she said quietly. "I don't know how to repay you." Before Angel she never would have uttered those words. She just would have offered her body to Riley. Now, the very thought of it turned her stomach.
"Want some coffee?" he asked, motioning with his own mug.
She shook her head, swallowing thickly. The idea of consuming anything made her stomach roil. "I know you've already gone above and beyond the call of duty, but I'm afraid I have to ask you for one last favor …"
"You want to talk about it?" Jenny asked as Buffy descended the steps to the Hyperion's front desk, just having waved goodbye to Riley.
"I need a place to stay," Buffy said quietly.
Jenny pursed her lips together. "Things go badly with Angel?"
Buffy's head snapped up and her eyes welled with tears. She blinked quickly. "You knew?"
"Honey, anybody who was paying the tiniest bit of attention knew."
Buffy laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, well, fat lot of good it does now." She sniffled, but straightened her spine. "Can you help me?"
Jenny seemed to consider something for a moment and then sighed. "There are rooms here," she said. "Or, I'm actually looking for someone to stay at my place for a while. I'm going to England for six weeks and I really don't want to leave my apartment empty."
"Really?" Buffy said in shock.
"You’ve really turned yourself around, Buffy," Jenny said, laying a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. It was a gesture she never would have made six months ago. "I know you’ll give Angel a lot of credit for it, but the choice was yours and you made it. I’m not sure how to say this without sounding too condescending, but I’m proud of you."
"Thank you," Buffy said with new tears falling. "I’ll pay rent. I need to find a job and I’ll try to have another place to stay before you come back and I promise I won’t mess anything up and-"
"Buffy, it’s okay," Jenny said gently. "I trust you."
Those were the kindest words anyone besides Angel had ever said to her. Even as she allowed herself a few last tears, she felt stronger. She was going to make it without Angel. She was going to show him and everyone else that she was a real person capable of making something of herself.