This is a really pointless fic if you haven't read my story "Alone (Meant For Me)" so please read that first, the addy is in my author's note...
Besides that, this is pure fluff! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to my fic "Alone (Meant For Me)".without having read that, it's pretty pointless, so go read that first at http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Stage/6190/alone.html if you haven't already.Okay, it's pretty pointless anyway, but I was thinking about "Thank You" by Dido (which is the song used) and it just seemed like a perfect counterpoint to my other fic.I know I'm supposed to be working on other things, sorry.

The alarm clock was ringing. It wasn't the doorbell. He wasn't standing out there in the rain, that look on his face. The alarm clock was ringing.

Buffy moaned and turned over, shaking off the last remnants of her dream. It had been such a wonderful dream. She'd been at her birthday party, and Angel had been there.and then she'd been home, and the doorbell rang, and it was him. But it wasn't him. The doorbell wasn't ringing. It was the damn alarm clock.

Which wasn't to say Angel *hadn't* been at her birthday party.

She squinted at the clock. Six o' clock, on the dot. She hated going to work early. Though 'early' was a relative term, since she'd been late every day this week.

Buffy moaned again and rolled out of bed.

My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why I
Got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be grey
Put your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad
It's not so bad

Buffy stayed in the shower too long, trying to wake up. Her head hurt, this pounding ache. She shouldn't have stayed up the night before, shouldn't have had those drinks at the party. There was nothing clean in her room, and she had to search her closet for ten minutes before she found anything at all suitable to wear. By the time she made it out to the kitchen, her tea was stone cold.

"Why did I even get out of bed?" she muttered to herself as a glance at the clock convinced her she didn't have time to make breakfast. Damn, her head *hurt*.

She hurried back into the bedroom, glancing out the window to see if she needed a raincoat. Of course she did. It *never* stopped raining here. Never. So what if there was a huge demon population in Seattle, why had she ever let Giles convince her to move here?

She tripped trying to put on her heel and knocked one of the pictures off the wall of her bedroom. She caught it as she straightened, and hung it back on the wall. And paused. Suddenly, the morning didn't seem to bad after all.

"So you're why I moved to Seattle," she murmured to the picture. "I know there was a good reason. See you later."

The amazing thing was, she knew she would.

I drank too much last night
Got bills to pay
My head just feels in pain
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today
I'm late for work again
And even if I'm there they'll all imply I might not
last the day
And then you call me and it's not so bad
It's not so bad

Bills on the front table screamed at Buffy as she passed them and made her head pound more. She *would* pay them, time just kept passing, and she kept waking up and realizing another day had gone by. There was too much to do in her life. No, that wasn't true. It was the perfect amount to do.it just didn't leave a lot of room for paying bills. Or sleeping off hangovers.

She left her keys in the door, of course. Like always. Then came the mad dash to the bus stop-on pumps. She hadn't brought her car, since there was no place to park it within a five block radius. When she saw the bus pass from a block away though, she started yelling and kicked the pavement a few times for emphasis.

It started to rain.

"Looks like you had fun," her co-worker remarked as she tromped in the door twenty minutes late, her mascara running. Buffy shot him a well-deserved glare. "You know, the boss likes punctual people."

"Then why don't you stop sitting around on your ass and do something *punctually*?" Buffy demanded. Well, she didn't actually say it out loud. But she really wanted to. She just glared at him more and sat down at her desk.

She *definitely* should have stayed in bed. Preferably for the rest of her life.

And I want to thank you for
Giving me the best day of my life
And oh just to be with you is
Giving me the best day of my life

Five hours and way too many snippy comments later, Buffy's phone rang.

"Buffy Summers," she said wearily.

"Hey Buffy," a warm, familiar voice said. "Are you okay?"

"I am now," she said, and suddenly it was true.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked. Buffy thought back to three years ago-before he'd turned human, before he'd come back to her. She'd still lived in Sunnydale then, with a nice car, and a nice big apartment. Without Angel.

"Absolutely nothing," Buffy assured him. "Everything's perfect."

"Liar," he accused her. Buffy laughed softly.

"You know the funny thing? I'm actually telling the truth."

Push the door
I'm home at last
And I'm soaking through and through
And then you handed me a towel
And all I see is you
And even if my house falls down now
I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me

It rained the whole way home, and Buffy missed her bus again. Her coat was literally dripping by the time she got home, as was her hair, her make-up and her nose. She was so tired that walking up the stairs (the elevator was undergoing repairs) was an effort. When she reached the door, it was locked, and her keys were at the bottom of her purse.

And then she walked inside, and Angel was standing there holding a towel. "I thought you might need this," he said, holding it out to her. Carefully Buffy closed the door behind her and reached out her hand to take the towel from him. She didn't dry herself off, just held it, staring at him, drinking in the sight of him.

He was older now than when she'd met him. He'd begun to age two years before. No less beautiful though. And infinitely more hers.

The headaches, the bills, the cold tea, the bus, all the snippy comments.they all fell away like the rain that was dripping onto her carpet. None of them mattered she realized, not at all. It wasn't the worst day of her life, which was what she'd been convinced of on her way up the stairs.

It was the best.

And I want to thank you for
Giving me the best day of my life
And oh just to be with you
Is giving me the best day of my life

"Thank you," Buffy whispered.

"It's your towel," Angel pointed out gently. "And you're dripping." She laughed suddenly and brought the towel up to her hair, gently toweling it off. "Let me take your coat."

"Okay," Buffy agreed easily, still unable to take her eyes off him. She slipped her arms out and let him hang the damn thing up. Her clothes were just as wet. He eyed her with dismay and she laughed again at his expression.

"You're going to get pneumonia," Angel complained.

"Not if you take good care of me," Buffy promised, her eyes wide and innocent, her lips forming a pout.

"I guess I better get on that then," Angel laughed and swept her suddenly into his arms, carrying her off to a steaming bath, already drawn and waiting for her.

And I want to thank you for
Giving me the best day of my life
And oh just to be with you
Is giving me the best day of my life

Hours later, or maybe only moments, Buffy sat in the hot bath, her body relaxing it's tensions slowly, and watched him.

"How was your day?" he asked.

Buffy thought about it, and stared at him, and then she smiled. "Marvelous," she replied. "Amazing. The best day ever."

"Good," Angel said softly, tucking a piece of wet hair behind her ear. She seized his hand, and then his shirt, and began tugging, intent on getting him just as wet as she was. She succeeded.

*

"Thank you," she whispered later, as they curled up on her couch, doing absolutely nothing.

"For what?" Angel asked, gazing down at her.

"For making this the best day of my life."

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