"Losing Cool"
Author: Starla
Email: Starla@Buffymail.com
Notes: This takes place after the Darla debacle, but Joyce is alive
and well. I suppose that The Body never happened.
I sat quietly, and watched them, feeling every bit the intruder that I was.
They sat, a little apart from me, laughing, joking, making little comments that seemed to make perfect sense to them, but left me bewildered. In-jokes. The kinds of things families have.
Of course, that was what they were. A family. Angel's family... and I wasn't a part of it.
I reminded myself that I had my own family, back home, but it didn't help, because more than anything, I wanted to be a part of Angel's world again. A part of Angel.
I'd gone to them, for help, after running into a particularly nasty demon when visiting my father. I'd almost jumped at the chance to see Angel again, to make sure he was okay, that he wasn't lonely...
I needn't have bothered.
He was happier than I'd ever seen him before. He laughed, he joked, he smiled, almost blindingly. He loved, and was loved in return. He belonged...and even as part of me was drowning in joy for him, pride of him... part of me was dying, because I could never make him that happy.
He didn't seem to miss me at all.
Abruptly, I stood, muttering a quick "Excuse me," which I'm pretty sure no-one bothered to hear. I walked stiffly to the courtyard door, slipping through and sitting heavily on a stone fountain, my head in my hands.
I'd never felt out of place in Angel's home before. Ever. The first time I went to his apartment, while I was being hunted down by those Tarakan guys, I pretty much broke in, without even the slightest bit of hesitation. I went inside, and lay down on his bed, and was wrapped up in the smell and the feel of him, and for a moment, everything was okay. Anywhere that Angel lived was always a little oasis for me... it was as much my home, as it was his.
Not anymore. I felt like the square peg in the round hole, or whatever. I felt as if I should have a badge on my sweater, with the word 'Visitor' written in big block letters, like those sales rep guys at shopping centres do. I felt like I should be anywhere in the world, as long as it wasn't the Hyperion Hotel.
I felt like my presence was going to leak that happiness out of him, drop by drop...
God, to know that I was the cause of all his misery...I had to be, right? I mean, the second he got away from me, he started smiling, and stopped hating himself so much...
All my fault.
I barely felt the first tear rolling down my cheek.
I never wanted anything more than to make Angel happy; maybe I did, once upon a time. Of course I did, once upon a time. He lost his soul from it.
I felt a tingling wave of nausea spread through my body, and wiped at my eyes furiously. I was being silly, I knew...but I couldn't get past the fact that I made Angel unhappy.
I felt the guilt itching at my skin like a too-new woolen sweater, and rubbed at my arms, hard enough to turn them red. I stared down at them with blurry eyes, wondering if Angel hated me for trying to keep him by my side.
With a trembling hand, I wiped at my eyes, trying to store all the pain away in that little box in my head, like I always did. Slayers didn't have time to deal, and process, and seek closure. Slayers lived through the pain, as best they could.
So much damn pain...
With a heavy heart, I sat staring at the wall, trying not to hear the musical blending of Angel's and Cordelia's laughter, ignoring the low hum of their voices, shutting my mind against Wesley's cry of eureka, and Angel's voice calling my name...
Oh, crap.
"Buffy?" he appeared in the doorway, and then he was at my side.
I blinked, hard, trying to rid my eyes of the telltale signs of tears, and then smiled slightly at him. "Hey."
"What's wrong?" he asked immediately. Damn him.
"Nothing," I said firmly, standing, letting my smile grow wider. I probably looked like a demented clown.
He just stared at me, waiting.
"I don't want to talk about it," I said wearily.
More staring.
"Come on, Angel," I whined, "Drop it."
"No," he said, his tone brooking now argument. He took my elbow gently, and led me over to the stairs. We sat, but I didn't say anything. I wouldn't break. I wouldn't do that to him.
I wouldn't.
"Buffy?" he enquired gently.
"Don't, Angel," I said, not looking at him. Not looking at the pain in his eyes - pain for me, because of me - or the velvet skin of his lips. "Why do you even care?"
He seemed a little stunned by that. "Why wouldn't I care?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
I was going on the defensive, now. Any moment, I would be cracking out the 'dead-American' quips and hurting him, just so he wouldn't penetrate the walls into my soul.
"Pardon me?"
"Nothing," I said, crossing my arms, fixating my gaze on the wall beside me.
"I'm not going to drop this until you talk to me," Angel insisted.
"Just leave me alone, Angel," I said acidly, standing, "You've never had a problem with doing that in the past."
"Is that what this is about," he asked, also standing, looking at me with slightly hurt eyes, "Me leaving?"
"No," I answered truthfully, brushing past him to go back inside.
When I made it back to his circle of friends // family // I relaxed a little, hoping he'd just drop it. No such luck.
"I miss you, every second."
His voice was soft and heartfelt from the doorway. I was facing away from him, and I was glad for it. I didn't want to see his face, didn't want him to know how much he affected me, still.
"Really? Doesn't seem to crippling you."
My mouth works without the consent of my brain. It's not a good thing.
His friends had gone silent around us, for a moment, but then Cordelia, ever the loud mouth, just had to butt in. "So, what, you're upset because he's *happy*? God, get over yourself. Grow up."
I glared at her, and again, my mouth started working before I could stop it.
"No, I'm guilty, because I obviously made him miserable. Can we please drop this, now?"
I took the book Wesley was holding, studying the demon in the picture, trying to ignore the shock I could feel vibrating through the room. "So this is my boy?"
I glanced up at Gunn and Wes, who were staring at me with their mouths wide open. I tried to smile, slightly, "Fashion tip, Wes? Mouth looks better closed."
His eyes twinkled with recognition, and his mouth snapped shut.
"Miserable?" Angel's voice sounded incredulous to my ears, "You think you made me *miserable*?"
I turned to look at him with sad eyes. "You're going to tell me I didn't?"
"Of course you didn't!" He said fiercely, "God, I..."
I swallowed, let my gaze fall to the floor. "Look around yourself, Angel. Look what you have, look how happy you are." I bit my lip, "Because you left me."
He walked over to me, cupped my chin in hand and kissed my forehead, "Buffy," he was smiling softly, as if I was being silly and it amused him. "I am pretty
happy, now, I'll admit that," he took my hand in one of his, squeezing it, "but if I could be with you, I'd be ten times happier. You know that."
My lips trembled, "But you were always unhappy, in Sunnydale."
"Buffy, no," he said firmly, "No. I wasn't unhappy, I was just...afraid. I was afraid of becoming the demon again. Afraid of hurting you." He slid his arms around me, hugging me close, "I was afraid of letting myself be happy."
"What, you're not afraid of that, here?" I asked, still not able to believe him. He was deluding himself, I was sure.
He kissed my cheek, and then rested his forehead against my own, "It's not perfect happiness, Buffy. Not without you. Never, without you."
I felt tears tracking down my cheeks, "All I ever wanted was to make you smile," I said in a small voice.
"I know, Buffy," he said, closing his eyes, "You did. You still do."
I sniffled, "I'm sorry."
What I was apologising for, I don't know. For the outburst, or for making him unhappy, or for a thousand other things that had passed between us. I'll never know. It didn't really matter, because then he kissed me - really kissed me - for the first time in - God, - nearly two years.
I kissed him back, filled with longing, and love for him, and need for him.
Maybe we made each other miserable on a regular basis, but for just these moments of simple love and joy, it was okay.
The kissed stopped, but our faces remained close together, our eyes locked.
"Let's go kill this demon, and then I'll take you to dinner - a midnight snack - and we'll talk, okay?"
I sniffled, clutching at his jacket. "Okay."
I felt like a child, but there was so much, lately...Just so much. Just hearing the sound of his voice...
"I missed you," I said quietly.
"I know," he responded, "I missed you too."
He took my hand again, and we let our moment fall away, remembering the other people in the room.
Cordelia sighed, still glaring at me a little. It probably bugged her that no matter how close they got, I'd always have the ability to affect Angel in ways she couldn't even imagine. "Thankyou, for that little spectacle," she said a little icily. She and I would never get along.
Not that we'd ever tried, but hey.
Angel squeezed my hand reassuringly, and I leaned my head against his shoulder, ignoring her. I was tired - emotionally tired, more than anything - and arguing with her would be fruitless. No fruit for Buffy.
We listened as Wes briefed us with all the details needed to kill a Kaljan demon, and then Angel and I walked out together, tracking it down, killing it, just like old times. We even managed to go into a sewer without too much angst.
It felt so good to hunt with him again. I'd forgotten, what it was like to fight with someone who is your equal in almost every way by your side.
We made short work of the Kaljan, and then Angel took me to this all night Diner near by. It wasn't exactly the Rainbow Room, but the woman who owned it was a complete sweetheart, and the food was delicious.
Oh, and the company was just divine.
I sipped at my coffee, and my lips twitched into a smile as I met Angel's eyes.
"I guess I kinda lost my cool, huh?"
He grinned lazily at me, stroking my hand, "Happens to the best of us."
"Happens a little more often to blowhorn-Buffy than to regular people," I pointed out.
"You're unpredictable, I'll give you that."
"Well, sorry," I said earnestly, "I seem to yell at you whenever we're in the same room, lately."
He shrugged.
"It's only to cover up the fact that I miss you so much," I said softly, and he just smiled, and nodded.
"I knew that," he told me.
"Oh," I said, and then, "Could you stop with the Oz? You're making me edgy."
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. "Just thinking."
"Oh."
"A friend told me..." he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Angel?"
"My soul... it's permanent. Gift from the powers, or something, for passing one of their damn tests."
My eyes went wide, and I leaned back against the booth. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "I was going to tell you, I just wasn't sure...if it would be right."
"Screw right," I said vehemently, "Do you want me, Angel?"
His eyes met mine, telling me everything I needed to know.
I got up, going around to the other side of the table and sliding into the
booth next to him. His arm went around my shoulders automatically, and I leaned my head against him. "I think, maybe...we need to stop worrying about hurting each other and take some risks, Angel." I played with his buttons. "I think we need to use the time we have. Make some sort of life together."
He kissed my hair, "Want to get started on that life sometime soon?"
I grinned up at him. "Let me check my schedule. I'll try to slot you in."
He laughed, and I had to join him.
Okay, maybe I didn't make him miserable *all* the time.
The End