"All The King's Horses And All The King's Men"
Author: Indie & Tango
Email: indiefic@hotmail.com/tangofic@hotmail.com
Angel decided to go to class on Monday but he was painfully hung over. He couldn’t believe what a fucking dumbass he had been. A quick grope session with Darla was not worth losing Buffy. Nothing was, but he was a day late and a dollar short.
As he headed home, he happily realized that her things were still at his place. At least he could beg her to come home when she came back for them. After all, she had launched her key at him at the party. She had no way back inside.
He was still comforting himself with that thought as he made his way up the sidewalk to his apartment building. He met Lorne, the super, coming out the front door.
"Hey," Lorne said with a bright smile.
Angel grunted.
"Oh, Angelcakes," Lorne tacked on hastily. "You need to have another key made. I had to let your hottie little girlfriend into your apartment this morning."
Angel stopped and stared blankly at his super. He opened his mouth and then closed it. He felt like screaming. "You let Buffy into the apartment?" he demanded.
Frowning, Lorne said, "Yes I did. As a favor. Just like the favor I did when I didn't charge you the extra two hundred dollars for adding a roommate without putting her on the lease."
Clamping his mouth shut, Angel nodded tersely and quickly turned, heading for his apartment. He was already feeling defeated by the time he unlocked his apartment. He thought he'd steeled himself for what he was about to see, but he hadn't. The sight of his leather jacket hung neatly over the back of one of the chairs almost sent him crashing to his knees. In a daze, he walked into the bedroom and found half the closet empty. All of Buffy's things were gone.
"Fuck!" he bellowed, turning and punching the wall. His hand throbbed, but it wasn't nearly enough. Nothing could wipe away the pain of losing Buffy. He'd been an idiot, a total fucking idiot. He had the best thing that would ever happen to him in his arms and he let her get away - no, worse, he pushed her away.
He'd been so idiotically freaked out by her past that he let it destroy their future. He'd hidden her away like some dirty secret rather than shouting his feelings from the rooftop. She was right to hate him. He was scum. He'd left her alone, asked her not to go to the party. Then he'd gone with the intention of finally breaking things off completely with Darla, only to find himself the unwitting victim of her affections. He hadn’t instigated and he was just moving to push her away when Buffy saw. But he’d never be able to convince her of that. And why should she believe him? After all, he had lied to her and gone to the party without her.
Gods, he was disgusted with himself. He tried to imagine the situation in reverse, imagine seeing Buffy in the arms of another man. He would have killed the son of a bitch, no questions asked. Yet, he had the gall to beg Buffy to take him back.
Even though Angel knew he wasn't worth it, he couldn't stop. He had to get Buffy back, no matter the cost. He knew how wrong he had been. He just had to make her understand that.
Buffy looked at the pile of clothes strewn on the floor. None of them fit right. Everything felt awkward and wrong.
She crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down her face. No, the clothes were fine, it was her own skin that felt wrong. She'd made a clean break from Angel. She gave him back his key and his jacket. She took her clothes. She had her own place. Jenny arranged a job for her working in one of the administrative offices on campus. She was even enrolled in classes for the spring semester that started in three weeks. But her new life felt wrong - so, so wrong. She didn't belong in this nice apartment wearing these nice clothes. She wasn't the kind of girl who went to college. What was she thinking?
Buffy looked at the clock. It was shortly after eight in the evening. She was supposed to go out for coffee with Willow. Buffy couldn't help but laugh. Six months ago Willow wouldn't have given her the time of day. She sighed. No, that was wrong. Willow was one of the nicest people she knew. Willow probably would have given her the time of day, but Buffy wouldn't have deserved it then. And she didn't deserve it now.
Cursing, Buffy dug through the rest of her clothes. The cargo pants were long discarded, but she found a pair of vintage jeans she had bought a few weeks ago. They were faded and worn, just like her. She slipped them on, but she couldn't bring herself to strip out of the shirt she wore, one of Angel's undershirts, soft and still holding the faintest trace of his scent. Buffy had worn it all week. Now, she simply knotted the end of the shirt so it didn't look like a dress and slipped into a jean jacket that Angel had bought for her but she had never worn. Her old army boots completed the outfit and she was out the door, heading for Spike's.
He whistled, lounging comfortably in the doorway. "Well, lookie what the cat dragged in," he said with a dark smile.
"Fuck you," Buffy cursed, pushing past him and into the dingy basement apartment.
"Fuck me?" Spike demanded, obviously irritated. "You fucking disappear on me for months without so much as a goodbye shag and I’m just supposed to invite you in with open arms?"
Buffy ignored him, throwing herself down on the disgusting couch. "I need something," she said, her tone flat and businesslike.
"You always need something, pet," Spike drawled, closing the door and walking around the coffee table to take a seat next to her on the couch. "But maybe I’m not interested."
Buffy snorted. "You're always interested."
"Before," he admitted. "But maybe now I don't want Angelus Chase's sloppy seconds."
Buffy's eyes shot to him and she clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling.
Spike merely smiled like a cat in cream. "Yeah," he said with a satisfied sigh. "I heard about you and the pretty boy. Everybody has. It's all over how you cleaned up and then got in a catfight with Darla Weston at the Alpha party. Seems like you're the hottest thing going now. Everybody wants a piece of you. Even the ones that have already had a piece … which would be just about everyone, now wouldn't it, pet."
"Fuck you," she spat.
"That would be the idea, yes," he replied coolly. "At least if you want anything from me, that is. Like I said, usually I wouldn't touch Chase's cast offs with someone else's dick, but in this case, I think I'll make an exception. Everybody knows how much he wants you back. I like the idea of having something he can't have, even if it's just a little used up whore like you."
"You son of a bitch," she cursed, rising to her feet.
"Easy, pet," he placated, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "We're old friends. No need to get uppity."
"Screw you. I don't need a goddamn thing from you." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the apartment.
Spike let her go. Buffy knew he did it because he figured she'd be back. Well, he was wrong. Buffy had money and she had been intending to pay him for the drugs, any drugs. But the idea of sleeping with Spike - she just couldn’t handle it. She was pissed enough at Angel to kill him, but the thought of going back to Spike, of reliving the hell that used to be her life. She couldn't do that. She couldn't go back. Not like that.
She needed to move forward, she thought as she stalked down the sidewalk, her cheeks once again wet with tears. She needed to keep herself out of the gutter. But she couldn't keep wallowing over Angel. She had to get over him, get on with her life.
Lindsey's expression was decidedly apprehensive as he opened the door to his upscale condo. "Buffy," he said warily.
She smiled at him tightly, knowing she probably looked like shit since that was definitely how she felt. "I, uh," she said. She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Abruptly dropping her hand, she shook her head, once again meeting Lindsey's gaze. "Can I come in?"
He stared at he for another few heartbeats, his expression shuttered. Without a word, he stepped aside so she could enter his home.
"I'm not interrupting, am I?" she asked tightly, feeling like a fool for having come here. No doubt Lindsey knew what this was. They weren't friends. It was close to eleven and she was showing up at his place. Lindsey wasn't stupid. He knew this was a booty call.
Buffy didn't exactly know how she had gotten here. Yeah, from the small talk they'd made while working together, she knew where he lived. But she'd never been here before. All she knew was that she couldn't go back to an empty bed. Neither could she sleep with Spike. She needed some comfort, some oblivion. She wasn't willing to troll the frats or college parties looking for someone. She couldn't go back to that. Hooking up with Lindsey would be moving forward.
Right?
"Can I have a drink?" she asked, looking around his place. It was neat and tidy. The furniture looked expensive.
He took a deep breath. "I don't generally make a habit of giving alcohol to minors," he said tightly.
"I'm not a minor," she countered.
"You're not old enough to order something in a bar."
She shrugged and decided to go for it. Lindsey was obviously going to need some coaxing. Slowly, she sauntered over to him. Lindsey didn't move as she approached. She walked up to him, their chests almost touching and she scraped one neatly filed fingernail down his sternum. "You look lonely, Linds," she said in a near whisper.
He swallowed thickly and took a half step back, far enough to open her jean jacket. Buffy sucked in her breath, but let him. Slowly, he worked the material off her shoulders until it fell to the floor. He splayed one large hand across her stomach and leaned in close. Buffy's heart was hammering in her ears.
"You're still wearing his shirt," Lindsey whispered in her ear before turning and walking over to the bar.
Tears stung Buffy's eyes and she shook her head, trying to regain composure. She watched Lindsey pour himself a drink and down it on one swallow. This wasn't playing out the way she had planned.
Fuck it. In one fluid movement, Buffy pulled Angel's undershirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. She turned to face him wearing only the pair of tight, low-slung jeans and a pale pink demi-cup bra. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the tie out of her hair. She shook her head so the long locks bounced free.
Lindsey watched her in silence. He poured himself another drink and threw it back like the first. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to her again. "Put your clothes back on, Buffy," he said. "I'll call you a cab."
"I don't want to leave," she said brashly.
"You don't know what you want," he countered, his voice hard.
"Fuck you," she snapped. "I know. I'm not some stupid kid. I've played this game before."
Lindsey looked at her for a long time and Buffy had the sensation that he was looking right through her. She couldn't meet his gaze and opted for staring at the wall. "I'd bet everything I have that you've never played it like this before," he said with finality.
Buffy's eyes snapped to him again. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
He laughed mirthlessly. "You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night looking for some alcohol and a fuck," he said crudely. "But you do it wearing his shirt, wearing the underwear he bought you. Hell, you even want to fuck me because I remind you of him."
She shook her head, trying to convince herself. "That's not true," she swore.
Lindsey stepped closer again, getting right in her face. "I'm not Angel," he said.
"I know that," she replied as haughtily as possible.
"Do you?" he asked with a cold smile.
Before Buffy could react, he had grabbed her. His lips descended upon hers with bruising pressure. She struggled, pushing at his chest and Lindsey released her, pushing her away. She stumbled and landed on her butt on the floor. He smirked. "Yeah, Summers, you really want me."
She opened her mouth to argue, but clamped it shut. "Gee, you're a real gentleman," she snapped.
"Fine," Lindsey said with a shrug. "You want to do this, then we'll do it. But I'm not going to get you drunk first. You want to fuck me, you're going to do it stone cold sober. We'll go into my bedroom and turn on the lights so we can see each other and I'll take off all those pretty little clothes that Angel bought you and then I'll fuck you."
As he said the words, the images formed in Buffy's mind. By the time he finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Lindsey looked at her tears and sighed. Dropping into a squat, he handed her back the undershirt. "Fucking me won't be the same as making love to Angel," he said, his voice softer. "And it won't make the pain go away. It'll only make you hate yourself more."
She looked up at him, her cheeks wet. "I just want it to stop hurting," she whispered pitifully.
Lindsey looked away. "Put your clothes on, Buffy," he said. "I'll drive you home."
Lindsey had walked Buffy to the door and was heading back to his car when Angel stepped out of the darkness. "You fucking start something and I swear I will beat you to death," Lindsey growled.
Angel stopped short. Why was Lindsey pissed? That shithead didn't have any reason to be mad. Angel was the one who had the right to be mad!
Lindsey took advantage of Angel's confusion and continued. "I didn't touch her," he bit out. "She wanted me to, but I didn't. You better fucking remember that."
Angel watched Lindsey storm off to his car and he yelled, "What the fuck is your problem?"
Lindsey stopped in his tracks and turned to face Angel. "You stupid son of a bitch," Lindsey cursed. "You had to lose her before you had a fucking clue. You don't deserve her. You don't deserve any of them. It's all one big game to you."
"None of this is your business," Angel said darkly.
Snorting, Lindsey countered, "When your business shows up on my doorstep asking me for a fuck, it becomes my business."
"I swear, if you touched her - "
"I didn't touch her, you asshole. She showed up at my place looking so damn sad and vulnerable and so fucking sexy even her goddamn tears got me hard, but I didn't touch her."
Angel growled, but Lindsey ignored him. "I didn't touch her because even though you're the biggest fucking waste of space I know, she loves you. You don't deserve a bit of it, but she does. And I know that even though you were late to the game, that you love her."
Angel stared at Lindsey in undisguised confusion. "What's your deal?"
"I loved Darla," Lindsey spat. "You knew that and you fucked her. And she fucked you back because your dad is a hot shot businessman and mine was a goddamn janitor."
Angel opened his mouth to defend himself, but he couldn't. Lindsey was right. Slowly, he closed his mouth. "My dad always respected your dad," he finally said.
"You and Darla are a pair of fucking vipers," Lindsey swore with disgust. "And you have no idea how much I wanted to screw your little girlfriend. But I didn't because even though Buffy thought she wanted it, she never would have forgiven herself. And as much as I want to get even, I'm not going to destroy her to do it."
Disgusted beyond belief, Lindsey turned and walked to his car. Angel stared after him. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Eat shit and die," Lindsey replied without slowing down.
"You look like shit," Doyle said, stepping over leftover pizza boxes to take a seat on Angel's couch.
"Thanks," Angel said dryly. He needed to be prepping lessons for Professor Kerr, but he couldn't seem to get motivated.
"You're fallin' apart, man," Doyle said seriously, shaking his head.
Angel shrugged. Doyle, of course, was right. Angel was falling apart. And he had no one to blame but himself. What had he thought? That he could keep Buffy like some goddamn house pet? Of course she wanted to go out. Of course she wanted to be seen. But he'd pushed aside so many of her needs because of his ridiculous damn pride. Because he didn't want people to think of him as the schmuck who was landed by some dirty little druggie who had fucked half the UCLA student body.
Angel knew that he deserved whatever misery he got. And he was in misery. Misery that tore at his very soul. He hadn't realized it until he'd shouted it at her in front of three hundred witnesses, but he did love her. He loved her so much that the thought of his life without her in it was enough to make him crawl inside a bottle and never come out.
So now he followed her around. A lot. Buffy was right, it was stalking. But he also knew that she wasn't anything if not a woman of means. If she hadn't wanted him following her, he wouldn't be following her. The fact that she allowed it at all was proof of the fact that she still cared a little.
Wasn't it?
"Buffy please," Angel pleaded from his car window as he followed her down the street from her apartment towards campus. "Just get in the car and we can talk."
"We've been over this before, Angel. This is stalking," she rebuffed, keeping a steady gait. "It's illegal. I could have you arrested."
She sighed. This was a daily ritual. Every day when she left the house he was waiting for her and every day he followed her all the way to campus, begging her to talk to him. The first week was the hardest of her life. She wanted nothing more to climb into that car, to climb back into his life, but she steeled her resolve. She couldn’t let him win. She’d let every last motherfucker in her life destroy her, tear her down, make her feel like nothing and even though she loved him with every last fiber of her being, he was the last person on Earth who was ever going to make her feel like that.
So she walked. Every day, she walked alone and he drove slowly beside her. Weeks turned to months and he wouldn’t give up and neither would she. She risked a glance over at him. It was also part of the ritual. He took it to mean she was weakening and he was right, but she didn’t ever climb into his car.
"If you would just give me a chance, Buffy," he called out across the yards that separated them, "I could make everything up to you. I love you. I know you care about me too. Please, baby."
"No, Angel," she said, not slowing or speeding up her pace. She didn’t know why she answered him. She didn’t know why she didn’t just ignore him. She just couldn’t. Just like she couldn’t tell him she didn’t love him.
She made it to campus yet another day and disappeared across the quad. Angel drove off without a word, but she knew in the evening when she got off work he would be there again to follow her home. She waved at Willow as she approached the fountain by the administrative building and smiled. Her newfound friend was a bright spot in her life now. She accepted the coffee her friend held out, thanking her.
"Angel there again today?" Willow asked.
"You know he was," Buffy answered dryly. "Where else would he be?"
"I saw him over the weekend," she said as they sipped their coffee perched on the edge of the fountain. This was also becoming a daily ritual. Buffy treasured both in their own way.
"So?" Buffy said, trying to sound more callous than she felt. By now, Willow saw right through her and didn’t bother being offended.
"He’s drinking more and more. He doesn’t even look at other women," Willow said. "And he’s started doing the strangest thing."
"What?" Buffy asked, turning toward Willow curiously.
"He tells everyone he meets that he’s in love with you."
"What?" Buffy asked, astounded. "What, like, ‘Hi, I’m Angel and I love Buffy?’"
"Uh, yeah," Willow said, shaking her head. "Pretty much."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah," Willow concurred.
Angel was taking his nightly swing past the apartment Buffy shared with Jenny in the off chance he might see her when a familiar bleached blonde got out of an old beat up car and headed for the door. Angel slammed on the brakes, threw it into park and ran up to where Spike was a few steps from the door.
"Hey!" Spike shouted as Angel grabbed the labels of his leather duster and yanked him roughly away from Buffy’s door. "Watch it, mate," Spike said, pulling himself away from Angel so suddenly, they both stumbled.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Angel snarled.
"Just stopping by to see an old friend," Spike said, straightening his coat. "Can’t see how it’s your business, since you’ve been dropped like a bad habit and all."
"So have you," Angel said. "I don’t want you or the shit you pimp anywhere near her."
Spike looked over the rich boy for a second before chuckling. "It must just kill you that I got there first, Angelus," Spike said, looping his thumbs in the pockets of his black jeans, smiling into the memory. "I had the bint when she was fifteen and high as a kite, with those dimpled knees of hers spread for me. Yeah, I bet you wish-"
Spike’s words were cut off when Angel pounced, knocking Spike to the ground with one sucker punch to the nose. Spike howled on the way down and found to get his bearings, but Angel kept hitting him again and again, punctuating his words with each punch. "Don’t. You. Ever. Come. Near. Her. Again."
"Angel!" Buffy shouting, running out the apartment and pulling him back off of Spike’s bloody form. "What are you doing?"
He opened his mouth to speak but she immediately spoke again, "Never mind. I don’t care." She looked from Angel to Spike and back again before backing away.
"You aren’t welcome here," she said. "I just want to be left alone."
"And make sure you don’t ever fucking come back," Angel growled out as Spike made it to his feet.
"You too, Angel," Buffy said. Angel’s mouth dropped open and Spike grinned happily despite his broken face. "Neither one of you are welcome here," Buffy said before going back inside.
Angel stood there and stared at her door with his mouth hanging open in shock and Spike laughed all the way back to his car.
Buffy gasped, pushing herself back from the table she shared with Willow as a cup of steaming coffee splashed over the front of her shirt and pants.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Darla cooed with obvious enjoyment. "I must have slipped."
Buffy stared up at the woman, shaking with rage and pain. The coffee had been scalding hot and she could feel burns forming where it had splashed on her bare forearms. "Bitch," Buffy hissed.
"Yes," Darla replied with a smug smile. "And isn't payback wonderful? Hope the coffee keeps you warm at night, because I know Angel isn't. He may have had some little fling with you. Every man needs variety. But in the end, I'm the one that fits in his life, not you. Have a nice evening."
"Hey Darla," Buffy said, using a napkin to pat the coffee casually on her arms as if it didn’t burn. She waited as Darla pivoted gracefully to face her.
"Angel’s with me every fucking day, bitch," Buffy said, baring her teeth. "How often is he with you?"
It was early in the morning on a Wednesday four months and four days after the Alpha Christmas bash when Buffy’s phone started ringing. She groaned and looked at the clock. It was seven AM. She groaned again. Wednesday was her day to sleep in because her first class was at ten. She was going to strangle the person who had the gall to call that damn early.
"Hello?" she mumbled into the phone with her eyes still closed.
"Miss Summers?" an unfamiliar female voice returned.
"Uh huh," she grunted back.
"I apologize for calling at this early hour, Miss Summers. I’m Lilah Morgan with the law firm Wolfram and Hart. I regret to inform you that your stepfather, Mr. Ethan Rayne, passed away," Lilah said in a very cool, professional voice.
"Oh shit," Buffy said, sitting up in bed. "What happened?"
"He had a massive overdose and was found dead when an anonymous person called an ambulance. It appeared that he had been dead for twenty-four hours when he was found. We’d like you to come in to discuss the property and burial of Mr. Rayne as you are his last living relative."
"I’m not his relative," Buffy said, staring blankly at the bedspread. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes again. "Ethan was married to my mother. I haven’t spoken to him in almost a year."
"Be that as it may, Miss Summers, the house reverts to your ownership. I would like to discuss the details with you in person if you could come in and meet with me."
Buffy made the appointment with Lilah for that morning and by the time she hung up the phone her whole body was shaking. Panic filled her as she thought about dealing with Ethan’s death alone. Tears filled her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.
She hated that bastard. He raped and beat her and did everything he could to destroy her, maybe because her mother was gone, maybe because he could only abuse himself so much. She never knew. She spent countless nights washing the stench of him off, cleansing the wounds he had inflicted and wishing him dead. She had thought about ways to kill him, to stab him to death in his sleep, but she never went through with it.
Her house, her mother’s house, was waiting for her to claim it and she couldn’t seem to wade through the memories, to separate the good from the bad. The last thing her mother had left her had died. As horrible as Ethan was, her mother had loved him. Buffy spent years trying to figure out why.
With a shaking hand, she picked up the phone and dialed. She held her breath and tried not to cry out loud. She let the phone ring until the answering machine picked up. She listened closely to the melodious, deep rumbling of Angel’s voice. When the beep sounded, she didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, then finally she said quietly, "Angel, are you there?"
No answer came and just as she was about to hang up, he picked up the line. His voice was groggy and thick with sleep as he said, "Buffy? Is that you?"
"Angel…" she said, sniffling. "I need a favor, okay?"
"What’s wrong?" he asked, worried. "Are you alright?"
"Can you just come get me?" she asked in a whisper.
"Ten minutes," he said and hung up. Sleepily, she trudged to the shower and turned the water on as hot as she could stand. She felt like she was washing him off all over again.
By the time she finished in the shower, Angel was in the living room, seated at the small table. He was holding a cup of coffee though it didn't look like he'd taken a drink. Jenny was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen watching him like a hawk.
Normally, Jenny would have already been at the shelter, but she'd turned in her resignation two weeks ago. Jenny returned from her trip to England, three weeks after Buffy had initially moved in, newly engaged. Rather than helping Buffy find a new place to stay, Jenny simply let her stay in the spare bedroom and they both saved money on rent. Now, Jenny was planning to move permanently to England to be with her future husband, Rupert Giles, and Buffy was in the process of looking for her own, smaller, apartment.
"Didn't mean to interrupt your packing," Buffy said quietly to Jenny.
"It's not a problem," Jenny said tightly. She motioned to Angel. "He swears that you asked him to come over. If he's lying, I'm calling his mother right now."
Angel's look of indignation would have made Buffy laugh if her insides weren't twisted in knots. "I asked him," she said quietly.
Nodding, Jenny turned and went back into her bedroom to resume packing. Angel quickly scrambled to his feet. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Buffy opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. She clamped it shut tightly, her eyes shimmering with tears. A sob tore out of her throat and then another. "Ethan's dead," she managed to choke.
"I thought you hated him," Angel said softly. He reached out to touch her and then pulled away. A second time he reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek, then retreated once more, unsure of what he should do.
"I do," she said sobbing. "I did."
Angel pulled her into his arms and she wept silently. The feeling of her nestled against his chest, even if she was crying, felt so right. He was proud that he was the one she called rather than anyone else, that he could be the one to comfort her. He only wished that this was a small step in the direction of healing what was between them. Maybe if she trusted him with this she would be willing to take another step toward forgiving him.
When she finished, she pushed herself away from him reluctantly and wrapped her arms around herself. "My mother loved him," Buffy said quietly. "He was all I had left of her. I don’t know why I feel so sad about that bastard’s death."
"It’s okay to be sad about it, Buffy," Angel offered.
"I have an appointment to meet with this lawyer in an hour. I don’t want to go by myself," Buffy admitted. "What if she treats me like I’m a piece of trash? What if I can’t understand everything?"
"No one will ever treat you like you’re trash again," he said, clenching his jaw. "And you’re smarter than you think you are, Buffy. You would be fine without me, but I’ll be happy to go with you."
"Thank you," she sniffled. "There is one condition of this trip and you have to agree before we go."
"Okay…."
"No talk about getting me back or about what happened before," she ordered. "I just need you to be my friend."
"I can do that," he managed to choke out, but his heart sank. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a way to have a second chance after all.
Buffy couldn't stop shaking. Angel had given up trying to calm her down and watched her pace around her small living room. "What am I going to do?" she demanded, her voice tinged with hysteria. "I don't have the kind of money they want."
"Look," Angel said smoothly, "we'll get a lawyer to look at this. There has to be a way out. Ethan wasn't even your father. This can't be legal."
"They're going to take everything," she cried. "They're going to auction off my mother's house."
"Buffy," Angel said, gently clasping her hands in his own. "I promise, sweetheart, I'll make it better."
"You can't promise that," she yelled. "You don't know."
Sighing, Angel gave up. He walked over to the phone and dialed. "Linds," he said. "It's Angel." He was quiet for a few minutes. "Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll be sure to eat shit and die, now will you just listen to me for a second?"
"This is absurd," Lindsey said, leafing through the stack of legal documents Lilah Morgan had given her earlier this afternoon. "Those bloodsucking bastards are trying to take you. Whoever drafted this is counting on the fact that you will be so scared you will just roll over and do whatever they say."
"So we have a chance?" Buffy asked, hopeful despite her better judgment.
"We have more than that, Buffy," Lindsey said, setting down the paperwork and looking at her and deliberately ignoring Angel. "Your mother left the house to you, not Ethan, but you were too young to take ownership so it was left in Ethan’s care as your guardian until you were old enough."
"She left the house to me?" Buffy whimpered, her eyes filling with tears for the thousandth time that day. "It’s mine?"
"Yes, it is yours, Buffy," Lindsey said, "but the debt is not. In fact, you’re not legally obligated to bury that piece of shit either. They’re trying to satisfy his debtors by the sale of the house and then putting it on you, but if you don’t sign this, it won’t wash. I’ll go talk to Lilah and we’ll have this settled before dinnertime."
"And I’ll have my house?" she asked hopefully.
"You’ll have your house," he affirmed, nodding. He stood and was gathering the papers when Buffy launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Thank you so much," she whispered, pressing their bodies together in a way that made Angel want to cry out in fury, but he said nothing.
When Lindsey walked out, Angel walked with him. "Look, I’ll really appreciate what you did for Buffy today," Angel said. "If you have a fee for this, I’ll cover it."
"I don’t want a godamn thing from you," Lindsey snarled. "I’m doing this for Buffy, because she deserves more than you. Not everyone who makes the mistake of becoming your friend should be hung out to dry."
"Linds, I didn’t know you loved Darla, if that’s any consolation," Angel said quietly.
"The fuck you didn’t," Lindsey spat back.
"I knew you liked her," Angel said, "but I didn’t know you were in love with her. You know that with Darla it doesn’t matter. She takes what she wants and she doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but her own."
"Eat shit and die," Lindsey growled again. "I don’t want to talk about this again. That is the price of this little session with Buffy." He climbed into his truck, started it and then rolled down the window. He propped his arm out and looked at his former friend. "You know, I think our little Buffy’s getting over you. Maybe I’ll ask her out."
"You son of a bitch," Angel roared, but Lindsey had already peeled away from the curb. He watched the truck for a long time, until it was completely gone and then turned toward the apartment. He hated to admit it but he was beginning to think that despite what Buffy felt, that she was never going to let him back into her life again. He followed her every day, tried everything he could think of but she still hadn’t budged. How long was he going to beg?
Sighing, he headed back to the apartment. He found Buffy daydreaming by the window holding a cup of coffee in her hands. She looked gorgeous there with her hair down around her shoulders, streaming down her back. She had gotten it cut awhile back, just a couple of inches, and it seemed bouncier and healthier than it ever had before.
"Hey," he said quietly.
She turned around to face him and took a sip of her coffee. "I appreciate what you did today," she said. "I know it wasn’t easy to call Lindsey for help."
"I did it for you," he said, snagging his keys from the table and slipping them into his pocket. "I’d do anything for you, Buffy, but you should know that by now."
He looked over at her for a second and felt his heart breaking. She was never going to take him back again and he knew it now. The idea of spending every day and night without her for the rest of his life was too much to think about.
"I’m going to go," he mumbled. "I’ll see you around, Buffy."
Lindsey had called her later that night informing her that the lawyer at Wolfram and Hart were pissed, but that they wouldn’t bother her anymore. Buffy had cried in relief, thanking Lindsey before she hung up the phone.
First thing the next morning, Lindsey picked her up. They went down to the courthouse and made sure all of the documents were in order. The house was Buffy's. Lindsey had also made the startling discovery while researching Buffy's plight that Joyce had left a few investments for Buffy - investments that she'd made when Buffy was just a baby and that had never had Ethan's name added to them. It wasn't a lot of money, a little over fifteen thousand dollars, but it was more than enough to begin the work to make the house habitable again. Between what she'd learned working on campus and her own frugal nature, Buffy was certain she could restore her home to its former glory without going over budget.
She met Willow for a late lunch to tell her the good news and then almost missed her afternoon Sociology class. After that, she caught a bus over to one of the giant home improvement stores where she priced materials and looked at paint swatches, tile, carpeting and a billion other items. That took hours and it was late evening by the time she arrived back at home. After a quick shower, she was sitting on the couch looking over her notes, doing some calculations when it hit her. She hadn't seen Angel all day.
She tried to shrug it off, but it kept nagging at her. He hadn't been there. For the first time in months, he wasn't the first person she saw in the morning.
She tried to be casual about it the next morning, but after fifteen minutes of milling around in front of her apartment, she decided that he really wasn't going to show. She didn't know why it bothered her. It shouldn't have. She'd been telling him to get lost for months. Now, she was beginning to wonder if she had ever really meant it. She was walking to the bus stop when Gunn pulled up beside her in his beat up old truck.
"Hey," Buffy said, confused.
"Hey back," Gunn replied. He opened the door and Buffy crawled in. "Stopped by the shelter this morning and Jenny was there. She told a few of us regulars about your new house. I figured you might need some help. You really can't ferry supplies on the bus and the delivery fees from those places are murder."
Buffy smiled, sniffling.
"Whoa," Gunn said, "I wasn't trying to upset you."
"You didn't," she said quietly. "It's just … really nice."
They had just pulled up to the house with their second load of supplies when Buffy realized that the front door to her house was open. She wasn't particularly worried about the house being damaged - it really couldn't get much worse - but it would be just her luck if all the supplies she just bought had been stolen.
She was jogging up to the door when Lindsey stepped outside. He was wearing a ratty old t-shirt and pair of ripped jeans. His entire body was powdered with a fine white dust. He smiled and it was so damn sexy, Buffy couldn't help but smile back.
"Hey, darlin," he drawled. "Really hoping the living room was going to have the dry wall replaced because … uh …" He held up a pry bar. "We took all the old stuff down."
Cocking her head, Buffy said, "We?"
Lindsey rolled his eyes. "Your stalker's inside sulking," he said. "But at least the son of a bitch is strong. He's working out some issues on your house. Took us half the time I was estimating to get done."
Buffy rolled her eyes too, but had to smile. If Angel was over here working on her house, he couldn't be completely over her. She walked into the living room and saw that Angel was like a whirling dervish. All of the drywall in the living room was gone, the furniture was in the dining room, the mess was cleared and Angel was already replacing the drywall.
He didn’t bother looking in their direction at all. His old jeans and t-shirt seemed to be hanging off of him and it was then that she realized how much weight he had lost. She saw that there were dark circles under his eyes when he bothered to look in her direction. With a sigh, she headed out to help Gunn unload the truck.
"Buff, you hanging on to any of this furniture?" Gunn asked, looking over the stuff that was now piled in the dinning room.
"Uh…" she said, looking over it all. She hadn’t really gotten that far in her plans. "Anything that’s wood can be refinished, I guess," she said thoughtfully. "I definitely want to get rid of that nasty couch and the bed in my mother’s room. Every single thing in my old room has to go too. Anything else that can’t be fixed or that’s ruined we should toss."
"I’ll get your ex-lump to help us lug it out," Lindsey said. "We’ll haul it over to the junkyard."
"Thanks guys," Buffy said, hurrying over to kiss both of them on the cheek. "You don’t know how much your help means to me."
"No worries, Buff," Gunn said, winking. "I just expect a cold beer at the end of the day…and maybe some pizza."
"I can do that," she said with a smile.
The guys brought back lunch when they were done moving the furniture, but she noticed that Angel didn’t eat. He slammed a beer and then kept working. When they stopped working that night, he didn’t stay for dinner, he grumbled a goodnight and promised to be back the next day before heading out to his car.
Buffy watched from the door as he drove away, her face showing her concern. Angel usually ate at least as much as she did but it looked like he hadn’t had a thing all day. He looked horrible. She heard footsteps behind her as she looked out and knew it was Lindsey.
"He doesn’t look good," Buffy said quietly. "I’m worried."
"He definitely looks like shit, darlin’," Lindsey agreed. "But then he’s been on a mainly liquid diet since you left him. I hear he does have a nice collection of pizza boxes stacking up at his place, so he is eating something. Or fuck, maybe it’s art."
"I don’t know what to do," she confided. She shut the door and then turned around to face Lindsey. She crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze.
"He doesn’t deserve you," Lindsey growled, clenching his jaw in anger.
"I love him," Buffy said, her eyes welling with tears. "I can’t stand to see him this way."
"It’s his own fault," he answered. "He fucked you over, just like he fucks everyone over. He treated you like a piece of shit, when it should have been the other way around. That bastard destroys everything he touches. I’m glad he’s hurting. It’s about fucking time."
"He hurt you too."
"Yeah, him and that bitch he cheated on you with," Lindsey admitted, "but that’s in the past. Now we’re talking about you."
"And you think I should just walk away from the only man I’ve ever loved?" Buffy whispered painfully.
"No, darlin’, I don’t. It’s a damn fucking shame, but I don’t think that at all. Just because I can’t stand him doesn’t mean you should spend your life missing him."
"I thought you made a firm vow not to give me alcohol," Buffy admonished Lindsey with a small grin. They were in a rundown little bar called Willy's. Buffy was shocked that she'd never heard of the place before. She was certain she knew every dive in L.A. Linds was a regular, apparently, and they didn't card hard, so they were sharing a couple beers.
Lindsey smiled and slid the beer across the table to her. "It wasn't a hard and fast rule," he said. "Just something particular to that moment in time."
Buffy laughed mirthlessly. "I was a mess," she said quietly.
"You were a mess," Lindsey agreed, taking a swig of beer.
"And you were a perfect gentleman," Buffy continued.
Lindsey waggled his eyebrows. "I was hard as a rock and I wanted to fuck you on my living room floor."
Buffy stared at him blankly for several heartbeats before letting out a loud cackle of laughter. She laughed until tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I never knew," she admitted.
Lindsey cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if I should be offended by that comment or not," he said.
"Not," Buffy assured him. "And thanks, Linds. You were a real friend that night and I appreciate it."
He shrugged and glanced at the bar. He went still, his expression sobering. Buffy followed his line of sight and saw Angel sitting at the bar watching them. Buffy didn't know when he'd come in, but it was apparent he had been watching them for quite some time. He probably saw her braying like a damn hyena.
Buffy swallowed thickly, looking away from Angel. She took a drink of her beer. "Did you love her?" she asked bluntly.
"Darla?" Lindsey mused, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "I thought I did at the time. I don't know. I mean, isn't love perception? If I thought I was in love, does that mean I really was?" He took another drink. "Whatever it was, I wanted her. Exclusively. I thought she felt the same way, but looking back, I think that's what I wanted to see. I stopped by her apartment early one morning - ran into Angel coming out."
"I'm thinking that didn't go over well," Buffy said with wide eyes.
"You could say that," Lindsey said darkly.
Buffy picked at the label on her beer bottle for a few moments. "So … uh … Angel and Darla?" she prompted, almost choking on the bitch's name. "Were they?"
Lindsey snorted so loudly Buffy thought half the bar probably heard it. "Definitely not. They're both hedonists. They enjoyed each other, but I'm not sure they even actually liked each other very much. I don't think Darla is capable of caring about anyone or anything. I didn't think Angel was either."
Buffy took a deep breath. "And now you think?"
Lindsey shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I think he's pretty damn miserable without you. He's a shithead and I have no desire to see the two of you back together. But I think yeah, he does love you."
Buffy blinked back her tears. "Seeing him with Darla … "
"Knowing Darla, she climbed all over him the second he was at the party," Lindsey said, taking another swig of his beer. "I hate to defend the bastard, but she takes over the men she’s with. She always gets what she wants…except this time."
"Are you so sure?" Buffy said, looking down into her half empty drink.
"He hasn’t been with her," Lindsey said firmly.
"How can you be so sure?" Buffy asked. "He could be screwing her every night and I wouldn’t know about it. I ran into her at the coffee shop the other day and she insinuated-"
"No one who had been riding Darla every night would look like he does now. I guarantee you that much, darlin’. Besides, she came to me the other night."
"What?" Buffy said, her eyes widening. "Did you…uh…did you two…?"
"Hell yes," Lindsey said chuckling. "I hate the bitch, but I have no problem whatsoever fucking her. I see it as revenge. Anyway, my point is that if she was fucking him she wouldn’t be with me. She’s only with me when he’s not available." Lindsey paused and looked over to where Angel was drilling holes in them with his eyes. "Look at that loser," Lindsey chuckled. "He hasn’t had any since you left him."
When Lindsey took her home that night, Angel followed. He knew they saw him and he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He just had to know if Lindsey was sleeping with her. That’s all. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was, considering Buffy would never speak to him again if he beat up her shiny new friend, but he would have thought of something.
Thankfully, Lindsey gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went back out to his car. He smiled menacingly at Angel and then drove away. Angel watched Buffy go inside, watched the lights turning on and then awhile later turning off again as she went to bed. He slouched in his front seat and closed his eyes.
He had to accept the facts. Buffy was a beautiful and now well-adjusted girl. She didn’t need him anymore; she didn’t trust him and she sure as hell didn’t love him. She wasn’t taking him back. Just thinking those thoughts made his stomach flip flop. He fucked up and had lost the only woman he had ever loved. She was gone. Permanently.
His eyes pricked with the first tears he had even thought about shedding since he broke three ribs in the sixth grade falling out of his tree house. He started the car and headed straight to the liquor store where he bought enough Jack Daniels to intoxicate a small village and went home.
"Fuck it," he said as he entered his apartment and opened the first bottle. "Fuck it all."
The following morning it took Angel almost five full minutes to realize that the pounding wasn't actually his brain trying to break through the top of his skull. "Fuck. Off!" he yelled, then instantly regretted it, clutching his head. But the pounding didn't stop.
Bleary eyed and about as amenable as a bear with one foot in a trap, he stalked to the door and yanked it open.
"Buffy?" he said lamely.
She smiled brightly at him, but as she looked him over from head to foot, the smile died. "Jesus Christ, Angel," she swore. "You look like shit."
"Yeah, well," he blustered, trying to think up some excuse. But she was right. He did look like shit. He wilted, slouching against the door. "What do you want, Buffy?" he asked quietly.
"I want you to go take a shower," she said. "And then I want you to put on some clean clothes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm taking you out for breakfast," she informed him.
His stomach roiled at the thought. "Buffy, I don't really think …"
"I don't care what you think," she informed him curtly. "It isn't up for discussion. Go. Shower."
Despite feeling like death warmed over, Angel dutifully trudged to the shower. While he was trying not to die in the bathroom, Buffy grimaced, looking over his apartment. Good gods, he'd trashed the place. Rolling her eyes, she opened up the sliding glass doors that led out to the small balcony. The place smelled like a bar. She snagged a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and began tossing pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, cigarettes, fast food wrappers. She waited until the shower cut off before she started the load of laundry she had put together from the clothes scattered all over the apartment. One load would get him started, but it would probably take another six or seven to wash everything. The sheets probably needed to be burned.
Angel stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Buffy was careful to keep her expression neutral, but inside she was in turmoil. How could someone look so awful and so damn good all at the same time?
"Buffy," he said wearily. He honestly didn't know if he could do this. Working at her house was one thing, but sitting down and having a civilized breakfast with her like they were … like they were fucking FRIENDS might just kill him. "I don't know if we should do this."
"Really?" she said skeptically. "Well, good thing for you I do know. I know we're going to go to breakfast, now go get changed."
He looked around the apartment and his expression became sheepish. "Buffy, you shouldn't have picked up, really - "
"Turnabout is fair play, Angel," she said firmly. "You took care of me when I needed it, now I’m taking care of you."
Nodding curtly, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of the friends discussion, he went to his room and managed to find a pair of clean pants and a shirt. Miraculously, they matched each other. As he was dressing, Buffy continued to clean the apartment. She made piles of dirty clothes that would be his next loads of laundry, then got out his cleaning supplies and started to do a once over with antibacterial spray.
When he came out, she smiled at him. "Much better," she said, crossing to the sliding glass doors. "I’m closing these but when we get back you should open them again and air this place out. It smells horrible in here."
"Buffy…" Angel started, unsure of what was going on.
"Come on," she said. "Get your keys. Are you too hung over to drive?"
"No, but-"
"Good, let’s go then," she prompted holding the door open expectantly. She followed him out to the car and climbed in beside him. They headed over to the greasy spoon that the college kids like to frequent because it was cheap and open twenty-four hours.
Once they ordered and had received their coffee, Angel stared into his like he expected it to talk to him rather than the beautiful girl across the table. He didn’t want to do this, couldn’t just be her friend. He’d rather rack himself with a hammer than pretend he didn’t love her. It was fucking ridiculous.
Just as he was working up the balls to tell her that, she spoke. "I love you, Angel," she said quietly. "I love you so much I wanted to kill you when I saw you at that party."
"Buffy, I-"
"Shut up," she snapped. "I know you love me too. I know you want me back and I wish I could just erase what happened and be with you, but I can’t."
"I see," he grunted, taking a drink of the bitter, overly strong coffee the diner served.
"You made me feel like I was nothing, like I was a useless whore," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "I thought things were going to be different because I loved you so much, but they were worse. No one in my life has ever hurt like you did. Not even Ethan was able to hurt me that badly because I didn’t love him, but gods, I loved you. I would have done anything for you, Angel. Anything except sit in the dark and be your whore."
"I’m so sorry, Buffy," Angel said. "If I could take it back, I would. I love you so much. I know I fucked up, but it was me, not you, that was the problem."
"I know that," she clipped. "You’re a fucking asshole."
He hung his head and nodded, looking into his coffee cup.
"But you’re my asshole and I love you," she said quietly. "And I’m willing to start over, if you want to try."
Angel’s head snapped up and he scooted out of his booth seat and crossed over to hers. Sliding in beside her, he pulled her into his arms and crushed her to him. "I swear I’ll make it up to you, Buffy."
They ignored the people around him as they clung together. The waitress came with their food and set it down, but they didn’t even notice it was there. After long minutes, they pulled back enough to look at each other and kissed softly. Finally, he made his way over to his own seat again and felt like a new man. Ravenously, he dug into his breakfast.
Buffy sat back, grinning like and idiot and sipping her coffee as she watched him. She'd always wondered before why Angel watched her eat, but now she sort of got it.
"Okay," Buffy said, handing Angel a swiffer duster, "now get the top of the television and then the bookcase."
He stared at her in undisguised irritation. After going back to his place after breakfast, she'd re-opened the patio doors, started another load of laundry and cleaned the kitchen. While he appreciated the effort, he didn't want to clean. He didn't want a dust free environment. He wanted smoochies and - god willing - make up sex.
She smiled at him. "Go, Angel," she said. "I'm going to change the sheets on the bed."
She had stripped the old sheets and managed to get the clean fitted sheet on before he attacked her. Buffy was shocked he waited that long. With a shriek of delight, she tumbled across the bed with him. Laughing, she tried to get away. "We're supposed to meet the guys over at my house at noon," she said. "We don't have time for this."
He pinned her to the bed, sucking on her earlobe. "Fuck Gunn and Lindsey," he bit out, stripping her shirt over her head. "I’ve been waiting months for you," he said as he kissed down her neck and shoulder. "They can wait an hour…or two."
She giggled as he tried to keep his mouth on her nipple and remove his clothes at the same time. He finally managed to free his cock from his jeans and pull off her pants and panties. Seconds later he was inside her and he hissed in pleasure as he was in engulfed in her tight, wet heat. He groaned and buried his face in her neck, moving in short, hard thrusts.
"You forgot the condom," Buffy panted, wrapping her legs around his waist. She had no interest whatsoever in having him stop. It had been so long and he felt so good. She never stopped taking birth control just in case she had a weak moment.
"I didn’t forget," he said, propping himself up on his elbows and looking into her eyes. "I should have trusted you a long time ago. I’m so sorry, sweetheart." He kissed her gently as he slowed his moments, gliding in and out of her wet heat. When he pulled back from her lips, he saw the tears welling in her eyes.
"I love you, Angel," she sniffled, holding him more tightly.
"I love you too, Buffy," he whispered, kissing the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.
Angel clenched his jaw as he moved inside her willing himself to last longer, but he knew that it had been too long and she felt so fucking good. Being inside her for the first time with nothing between them made sex that was already fantastic, absolutely heavenly. He reached between them and manipulated her clit until she was bucking in release and then he joined her with a cry of pleasure.
When they both had recovered he rolled over on his back, taking her with him. She nestled on top of his chest and listened to his heartbeat as he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close to him.
"We should get dressed and go over to the house," she mumbled, making no effort to move.
"Can’t we call and cancel?" he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.
"No," she answered with a sigh. "We’ve been making great progress and I want to keep up the momentum while I have help."
"Fine, you little slave driver," he groaned. "I’ll work."
Gunn and Lindsey were hefting a load of furniture into the back of Lindsey's truck, bound for the dump, when Buffy and Angel arrived together. At Angel's obvious good mood - hell the man was whistling and Buffy half expected him to break out into song at any moment - both Gunn and Lindsey set a speculative gaze upon her. Gunn merely laughed, but Lindsey rolled his eyes in disgust.
For the most part, Buffy tried to pretend that nothing was different. She knew they weren't fooling anyone. Angel had gone from silent and morose to chipper in one night. Plus, they'd arrived together late. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
Buffy wasn't trying to hide the fact that they were on much improved terms, but she did feel that maybe they should be a little more subtle. Around three, when Angel peeled off his t-shirt and everyone saw the fresh scratch marks on his back, she blushed bright red.
Buffy was in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to take the sink apart when Lindsey came in. He leaned against the wall, watching her with quiet intent.
Knowing she couldn't ignore him much longer, Buffy brushed off her hands and turned to face him. "Yes?"
"Are you happy?" he asked.
She nodded. "Very."
He shrugged. "That's all I needed to know," he said, turning to leave.
"Lindsey," Buffy said, halting his retreat. Slowly, he turned around again. "It’s not ..." she started and fell silent. "I love him," she said. "We’re not back together again, but I couldn’t stand to leave things the way they were."
"You’re not back together," Lindsey said skeptically. "So what is up between you two?"
"Nothing," Buffy said. "We’re just friends."
"Just friends," he repeated quietly. "Does Angel know that?"
Buffy bit down on her bottom lip. "I don’t know," she admitted.
"You know he doesn’t know, Buffy," Lindsey said quietly. "One look at his face and I can tell."
"Look," she said, faltering slightly and then taking a deep breath. "He never made a commitment to me, okay? Never. He never even admitted that he was fucking me."
"I told you he doesn’t deserve you," he said, cupping her cheek without thinking. Realizing what he had done, he dropped his hand from her face and backed away. He turned to make his way out of the room and saw Angel in the doorway. Glaring at his former friend, he headed out of the room.
Lindsey had made it all the way back to Buffy’s bedroom, which he was painting almond white, when he heard Angel’s big feet clomping up the stairs after him. He started painting right away, but concentrated on the footsteps coming up behind him. He didn’t turn as he felt Angel’s glare in the back of his head.
"I don’t have to tell you to stay away from her, do I?" Angel ground out carefully.
"No," Lindsey said with a chuckle before turning around, paintbrush poised in mid air, "Do I have to tell you that it’ll be a miracle if you don’t fuck this up?"
"I won’t," Angel snapped. "Not that it’s any of your fucking business."
"You’re right, it’s not," Lindsey said. "But make sure you walk the line, but if you slip up, I’m going to be there to catch her."
Angel was still stinging from Lindsey's comment. He had no doubt that Lindsey would love to hook up with Buffy, partly to spite him and partly because Linds really did like Buffy. It was a win win situation for that son of a bitch. He dragged a hand through his hair, knowing that it was a bad time to push the situation. He and Buffy were on very tenuous ground and he didn't need to escalate matters. But he couldn't leave it be.
She was outside surveying the back yard when he found her. Her bright smile died as she noted the scowl on his face. "Problem?" she asked.
Against his better judgment, the words spilled from his lips. "What is going on between us?" he demanded.
Buffy frowned and took a deep breath. "We decided to start over again," she said.
"That's what I thought too," he said. "So why exactly was Lindsey pawing you in the kitchen?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him with unbridled irritation. "Lindsey was not pawing me," she said. "He's my friend. And when I said 'start over', I mean it, Angel. I want to start over. From the very beginning. You don't just get to apologize and then have me back at your apartment like some damn house pet."
He opened his mouth to proclaim the injustice, but thought better of it. He snapped his mouth shut. Releasing a taut breath, he dragged a hand through his hair. He looked at her, trying to lock down his emotions. "I won't share you," he said.
"Good," she replied tightly. "Because I don't share me either. What happened this afternoon, Angel … it was … We shouldn't have rushed things like that."
"What does that mean?" he demanded. "Now you're breaking things off with me again? What, you going to take Lindsey for a test drive now?"
Buffy's posture went absolutely rigid. She glared at him for a few moments before brushing past him into the house. "Follow me," she ordered.
He did as she said and followed her upstairs into the hallway, one of the few places they hadn't started replacing drywall yet. She stopped in front of one particularly nasty dent in the wall.
"I know that your family is rich and your mother is a saint. I know that you were wanted and loved your entire life. But I really need you to understand that not everyone had that," she said firmly.
Angel swallowed thickly, but remained silent.
"This dent," she said, "is from the back of my head being shoved into the wall." Tears glittered in her eyes, but she refused to stop talking. "Ethan was drunk and pissed about who knows what. He slammed me into the wall, beat the crap out of me. He was wearing his college ring and he punched me in the mouth so hard, I got this." She gently touched the scar that bisected her lips. "Then, when I was coughing up blood and fighting to remain conscious, he raped me and just left me naked and bleeding on the floor like a piece of trash."
Angel stared at her, completely at a loss for what he could possibly say or do.
"I was fourteen years old, Angel," she said in a harsh whisper, tears running down her cheeks. She cleared her throat, backing up several steps and looking at him. "I know that you want what you want," she said. "But right now, I have to take care of me. I have to get my life and my emotions sorted out before I even begin to deal with you or Lindsey. So please save the macho bullshit."
When Buffy came home late Friday afternoon, Angel was sitting on the stairs in front of her apartment, waiting. He was holding a book and pretending to read it, feigning casualness. She looked over him as she climbed the stairs. She wanted so much to be strong during this new stage in her life.
"Hey," he said, giving her a nervous smile. She sat down next to him on the step and echoed his greeting.
"I’ve been thinking about this friends thing," he said, setting his unread book aside.
"Yeah?" she said, looking out into the street.
"I don’t know the rules exactly," he said awkwardly. "Can I…can I touch you? Is it wrong to want to kiss you and hold you?" Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.
"Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?" she said, leaning to shove his shoulder with hers. "What do you and Doyle do when you’re just hanging out?"
"Drink beer," he said, laughing.
"Okay," she said, "After we finish working on the house tonight, let’s go get a beer. We can talk about football and women."
Chuckling, he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Baby, you aren’t a good enough friend of mine to talk about football."
She laughed out loud and bounded up the stairs. "Are you going to give me a ride to the house?"
"You going to pay me gas money?" he grunted, in pure male fashion.
Four weeks later, the house was pretty much finished. It didn’t even look like the same place, which made Buffy want to weep with joy. The walls were freshly painted, a lot of the counters and baseboards and odds and ends were new. There were still a few things that needed to be fixed. The door to her bedroom still needed to be replaced, Angel promised to finish it on Saturday. Also, she was seriously lacking in furniture.
Sometime over the last few weeks, Buffy had come to the realization that she was really going to be a homeowner. All of this hard work, unlike at the Hyperion, was for her. When she got done she was going to have a kick ass house.
A kick ass house that she couldn’t afford to maintain. It had hurt the first time she realized that. The house had been paid off years ago, but after getting current on the back taxes and all the renovations, she was broke again. The house would still need a few repairs and then there were the monthly bills: gas, electric, water, trash, cable. Not to mention the little odds and ends that would need to be taken care of. What if a water pipe burst? And what about groceries? Between the house and school, there was no way she could keep it up. But she also couldn’t bear the thought of selling it.
So ... roommates. It was the only way to go. There were three bedrooms and the basement. Buffy figured if she could get a roommate or two, that their rent, plus splitting the bills would mean she might not have to get a job while she struggled with her college coursework.
"Penny for your thoughts," Gunn said with a smile. They were all having beers at a seedy little campus bar that served under aged girls provided they were pretty enough.
Buffy took a drink of her beer and frowned. "Just thinking that I need roommates," she said.
Across the table, Willow smiled brightly. "That’s great! Well, I mean, not great that you need roommates, but I’m ..." She looked at Oz, floundering.
"The thing is," Oz said quietly, "I guess if you don’t renew your lease they kind of want you to move out."
Doyle groaned, sliding down in large booth. It had become tradition after a hard day of working on the house that they all went out and got beers together. "When I moved out, we told the landlord we weren’t going to need the place again. But when I moved back, we forgot to untell him."
"We’re homeless at the end of the month," Oz added.
"That’s perfect," Buffy beamed. "I mean, I was worried about having to live with complete strangers and then the next thing you know I’d be Single White Femaled, but this is way better."
"You sure it’s okay?" Willow said, biting her lip. "All three of us? We don’t want to invite ourselves in if you had someone else in mind."
"No, I really would love it if you guys would move in," Buffy said, grinning, "and pay rent and utilities and phone and hopefully cable." She grinned wider and took a sip of her beer, almost glowing from the idea now that she knew she might have a chance at making ends meet.
"Well, if I’d known it was cable that made you swoon, darlin’, I would have tried that a long time ago," Lindsey said, winking.
"You have your own place," Buffy said, laughing. "Besides, when I say ‘cable,’ I don’t mean the Playboy Channel."
"If you don’t mean Playboy, want do you mean?" he asked, blinking in an almost completely serious blank look. It took thirty impressive seconds before he cracked a grin and everyone else chuckled as well, taking a sip of their beers. From the end of the table, Angel schooled himself in the rules of friendship and said nothing.
He continued to say nothing all the way home when he gave Buffy a drive that night back to her apartment. He felt like he was walking on eggshells most of the time, carefully making sure he wasn’t too possessive or jealous or attentive or inattentive. Buffy thought they were friends but he knew that they weren’t. He was just biding his time until he got her back and he was willing to do whatever it took.
"You’re invited, you know," she said quietly after a few moments of silence.
"Invited where?" he answered, breaking from this thoughts.
"To move in," she answered. "I know your lease is up too. You can move into the house if you want."
"With you? In your room?" he asked, risking a glance over to her. He held his breath as she stared out the window, contemplating his words.
"I’m not ready," she said quietly. "Not for what you want."
"So," he said, clearing his throat. "You want to move all your stuff tomorrow? I can put your door on after we get all your stuff hauled over and-"
"I do love you, Angel. That’s not what this is about," she said, interrupting him.
"I’ll pick up the door tomorrow afternoon," Angel continued. "I already have one in mind."
"Angel…"
"Don’t, baby," he said, pulling up to the curb and leaning over to kiss her cheek as he always did these days. It was the closest he got to her skin, the closest he got to holding her, then he went home and jacked off in the shower. It was pathetic, he thought disgustedly, but he would take what he could get.
"Just don’t let anyone else move in your bedroom either, alright?"