Part 19

Teen People Magazine:

Buff's Mystery Beau

Who is the guy that the Teen People spies have constantly been spotting Buffy with this weekend? The pair have been spotted gallivanting around Los Angeles and Santa Monica with her trusty bodyguard, Gunn, and has even been spotted with the Buffster's little sister.

Now, the staff here at TPM aren't usually big gossipers, but many of the crew here in downtown LA have sneaking suspicions that this mystery guy could be a new "friend" from the tiny Californian town of...well, actually we're not allowed to say due to legal matters.

They have been spotted sharing kisses and...other such affection. Could it be love? Maybe we'll find out next month when we interview her again to get the low-down on her senior year experience.

*****

Giles put down Lilah's magazine, mustering as much of his calmness as he could and putting it to use in preventing his hand from shaking as it moved. He stood stock still for a few moments before he looked Lilah eerily in the eye, his fury evident in his demeanour.

"So... What do you think of this?" Lilah timidly asked. Lilah was never timid. She never even knew she could be. But, alas, she could and currently was.

"I think I'm very ashamed that this could happen right under my nose," Giles bit out. His face was slowly turning red with his anger. It didn't help that it was neither hot nor sunny in the spot he was standing and that he was wearing a blindingly white shirt.

"...Under your nose?"

"His name is Angel and he lives just down the street. They seem to have keeping the pretence that they are just good friends," Giles explained. Feeling the need to fidget, he removed his glasses from his nose and polished them with a handkerchief that he'd pulled out of his pocket. He sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Lilah's desk. "God knows how long they've been keeping up the charade... What do you suggest we do about it, Miss Morgan?"

"What do I suggest? I suggest that you do what you feel is appropriate. The publicity isn't exactly negative, I must mention. I've gotten at least ten calls this morning. Also, apart from this appearing in Teen People, I picked up a few others that said basically the same thing," Lilah opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small stack of magazines, all showing similar fuzzy pictures of Buffy and Angel together. "Plus, from a female point of view, this...Angel guy is pretty good looking."

"Good God..." Giles muttered, flipping through the stack and squinting at a few of the photos. "I'll have to speak to Buffy about this." He put the stack back onto the desk and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. He slipped it on and quickly grabbed the magazine on the top of the pile. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Lilah said pleasantly.

"Thank you for calling me in. I'll get back to you about the situation as soon as possible," Giles said hurriedly and dashed out the door and in search of his wayward charge/client. He had enough difficulty as it was trying to hold the views and opinions of a guardian and a manager at the same time as it was. Now *this* happens...what to do, what to do?

*****

"You want me to do *what*?" Buffy nearly fell off of her chair as she spoke. She fumed inside, reprimanding herself for getting herself in such a situation. She'd known that they'd been watched, and ignorance was now no longer bliss.

"Break it off. Simple as that," Giles said calmly, trying to act oblivious to Buffy's rage.

Buffy sat back to think for a moment. "And what would be the consequence of not breaking up with Angel?"

"Well, if you..." Giles made a vague gesture with his hands and grimaced when Buffy just responded with a puzzled expression, "...you know. You could end up pregnant. You're a role model."

Buffy sighed and nodded. She couldn't disagree with that. It *could* happen and it *would* ruin the role model image that Lilah had worked so hard on with her. "What else?"

"Well, does it really matter? There are reasons why we don't want you to have romantic relationships and very good reasons that you've heard over and over again. Yet you still disobeyed me and went about this under my nose. You have no respect for me, or the job I perform. You should have at least told me. Maybe I would not have been as angered if I didn't have to find out through a bloody magazine, of all things," Giles carelessly dropped the magazine on his desk, directly in front of her. "There are more at Lilah's office and I imagine that news has gotten right around the country and back already. I've heard rumours reported and forwarded to me from Lilah before, but this..."

Buffy brushed away the stray tears from her cheeks and glanced passively down at the copy of Teen People. "I respect you, Giles, I really do. But sometimes I just want to control my own life."

"We're just concerned. And as your manager, I just want you to remember that what seems good and well now may not be as good and well in the future."

*****

*ding dong*

Buffy waited patiently with her hands rested neatly in front of her, one hand over the other. In them she clutched a small handbag with the address of (hopefully) Jennifer Walkens-her so-called friend. She had acted oddly the last time she'd seen her and Buffy wanted nothing more than to confirm the responsibility of revealing her address to several now-well-known freelance photographers. Pictures of her home in Sunnydale taken from behind the gates appeared in several magazines, but, luckily, legalities prevented them from revealing more than that she was in California. **Thank God...**

Lack of privacy was on the rise all around her now, especially after the debacle of being caught with Angel just recently. She had always felt as if someone was watching her and that she was never alone. It chilled her to the bone to wonder what it could be. All she could be thankful for was that Jennifer hadn't sold her address and phone number to the highest bidder at EBay and that there wasn't a permanent fan-campsite on the narrow strip of lawn between the fencing in front of her house and the footpath.

*ding dong* Buffy rang the bell again, this time more impatiently.

"Coming!" A female voice came screeching from the other side of the door. Buffy then heard several thumps and the sound of a bag of indeterminate description being dropped hurriedly on the ground. As soon as there was silence, the door flung open, revealing a breathless Jennifer in a slightly rumpled prom dress and hair mussed in a haphazard fashion that would make any observer presume she'd just come from a lengthy tumble in the sheets.

"Buffy?" Jennifer's eyes widened and started to close the door.

Buffy put one hand on the door and stopped it from closing completely. She stepped in cautiously and gave a nervous glance to Gunn, who was waiting in the car in the driveway. He had insisted in coming with her, but she would have none of it. Right now she didn't feel quite as confident. **Gulp. My throat is so dry I have to think it instead of doing it... Gee, I'm not nervous.**

"So are you going to just stand there or are you going to take advantage of barging into my home?" Jennifer asked, scrunching up her nose as she brought a hand up to inspect the damage to her hair. She quickly fell into the nearest chair and had a mirror in front of her face. "Ew, gross. Couldn't you have come later? Say, three o'clock? At least then you could be sure that I'd be able to concentrate on whatever scolding you have in store for me."

"I have a life, too," Buffy said, stating the obvious. She took a seat across from Jennifer and gazed around her surroundings. "Not bad...how'd your parents afford to get a place like this? Winning the lottery?"

"As a matter of fact, it was an inheritance from some...uncle...person. I don't know. It's one of those strange relatives that you meet once and forget about until you get forced to go to their funeral by your parents," she shrugged and put her mirror back where she'd picked it up.

"You know why I'm here. So, spill."

"I'm surprised it's taken so long," Jennifer smiled with an unnerving wickedness that sent shivers down Buffy's spine.

"I'm a busy person."

"So, what do you want me to tell?" Jennifer asked with a tired sigh. She opened a nearby drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes, a lighter and an intricate crystal contraption that slightly resembled an ashtray and a pug at the same time. "Do you want the whole story?"

"If you wouldn't mind telling it." Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Jennifer blew a puff of cigarette smoke in her direction. "And if you wouldn't mind blowing your smoke in a different direction so that you can't be liable to causing my hypothetical cancer on the grounds of forced passive smoking."

"Steely, aren'tcha?" Jennifer smirked. "Fine you wanna know the whole story, I'll give it to you.

"You and I, best of friends, blah blah blah. You started getting into your whole music gig and you neglected both me and Tyler. And so we became friends and we grew close. You found out and got pissed at the both of us, some more blah. I decided I didn't want to be your little sidekick anymore and so I got with him after the two of you broke up.

"As you can see, we weren't really at fault in the whole ordeal-you were. You were so stuck into this new life of yours that you didn't even notice how it was affecting the rest of us.

"I came in contact with your crazy ex, Riley, a few months ago. Now, he was pissed at you because you dumped him for Tyler. He was freaky. I don't know how I survived. He got me your new address since he'd been stalking you for a while-from just before your move to about a month after. I paid you that little visit to scope things out for myself and, hopefully, or so I'd planned, I'd confront you with my grudge. It didn't work and I ran home with my tail between my legs and with a new vengeance. I was jealous, I'll admit, so I tried all sorts of crazy things to try to inflict pain on you-voodoo, magick, gossiping...they all didn't work. Then I met a couple of struggling photographers and, well...I actually can't remember.

"Riley came to my house a couple of days after that, demanding that I tell him what went down between you and I. I wanted him to be angry with you, so I told him you'd apologised to me. He wanted your apology as well, but that didn't quite work out either, huh? Blew away the front of your parents' house."

Buffy blinked. It all sort of made sense now. Who would've thought that a fake life could be so complicated? She took in a deep breath and opened her mouth slightly and then hesitated. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking. Lifting her head, she stared straight into Jennifer's eyes and said, "I'm sorry...for everything...especially for being such a bad-and selfish-friend."

Jennifer nodded slowly, "Apology accepted." She burst out into a smile, "Looks like the neglect paid off for you, however. I'm happy for you. Oh, and I saw those photos of you and your boy and I must say, nice catch."

Buffy grinned and bounced slightly in her seat as she spoke. "He's hotter in person."

*****

"I can't believe prom is over," Willow said (almost) mournfully. She clutched to Oz's arm as they entered the Bronze for the after party. "I mean, whoa, we've almost finished high school."

"Shocking," Oz agreed.

"I can't believe Spike and Faith have already disappeared," Angel added with a laugh, "I thought their willpower was stronger than that."

"I think that maybe they're just smarter than the rest of us," Buffy replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Think of it this way: less partying = more energy + more time."

"Spike...smart? Uh-uh, not possible," Xander shook his head. Anya was clinging to his arm and nearly cutting off his circulation. Her presence was comforting, though. He didn't very much fancy going to the prom all on his lonesome-or worse, having prom pictures in his attic to be pulled out in fifty years time only to be reminded that he was the loser that no one really wanted to go with. In other words, Anya was his only (hopeless) hope.

Yes, life was often unfair.

Out of nowhere, an arm with a semi-transparent pink shawl draped over it appeared from in front of them and the fist it was connected to punched Angel in the nose, startling Xander, and everyone else, out of their thoughts.

"Darla?" Angel clutched his throbbing nose and found a few small traces of blood just below his nose. He kept his hands on his face and hoped that there wouldn't be any swelling when he looked at his own reflection tomorrow morning.

"Liar!" Darla shouted, causing the whole room to hush.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? You know very well what I mean," she snapped. "You only went out with me because of a bet-that's what."

Angel froze. He found his gaze inching toward his date.

Buffy blinked, not quite sure whether or not to believe what this girl...Darla had accused her boyfriend of. The guilty look on his face spoke a thousand words. **Was I a bet, too?** She didn't want to know the answer to that. Instead she threw a disgusted glance to Angel and fled the scene with her tears unshed and quickly welling up in her eyes. **I guess I was wrong about him. Maybe he really is just another guy who only thinks with his dick.**

Part 20

Buffy ran until she smashed into Gunn, who had been just around the corner and just about to follow them into the Bronze. He'd been a bit slow in the actual 'following' since he'd had to stay with the car until it was parked so they would be able to find their way back without circling the block 12 times trying to find the right limo.

"Gunn?"

"Buffy? What are you doing running around by yourself like this?" Gunn asked, trying not to show his anger. It was a bad neighbourhood. She could easily have been kidnapped, shot, pawed, raped, beaten, or maybe even mugged...among other things.

"Please, just take me to the car. I'm going home." She couldn't bear to look Gunn in the eye. Not if he would be able to see the hurt and betrayal in them as she knew he would. After all, Gunn had always been more like a friend than a guy doing his job.

"Okay, but promise me you won't try killing yourself," Gunn said, looking gravely serious in his tux and matching stern expression.

Buffy couldn't help but laugh. She could never commit suicide over something like this. Not even if it turned out badly. "I can't believe you would even consider it."

"I didn't. I just knew it'd make you laugh...even though it's not really funny to laugh about suicide, I s'pose."

*****

After about 30 text messages and half a dozen voice messages on her cell, about 40 messages on her answering machine and even a few pages of pleading coming over the fax machine, Buffy was sure she was frustrated. She was even afraid to check her email.

Her mobile buzzed again, showing that another message had been received. Reluctantly, she opened it and skimmed through it. He wanted to explain, to tell her the truth...it was tempting, but Buffy deleted it nonetheless. Unless he thought of a more convincing way of getting the message through, Buffy refused to answer him out in any way.

With graduation being tomorrow, all their belongings had been packed and ready to be taken back to LA. The house had been placed on the market and had already drawn in quite a few potential buyers. It would be perfect-she'd go back to LA, write some sad songs about it all, record them and get over him.

She hoped she wasn't a bet like other girl had been (what was her name again?)-she even doubted it-but she was still hurt by the fact that Angel could be that kind of guy and wondered what kind of act he'd put on to make her fall for him.

Buffy hated to admit it, but Giles was right. There wasn't a chance in hell that she could have a lasting relationship. They hadn't even lasted a whole year.

Today was their 8 month anniversary.

*****

Angel was grunting in frustration. He couldn't get through to her; he couldn't even go to her house-he'd been refused access. It was paining him to just be around Spike and Faith. They never had fights or disagreements and never had problems understanding what they wanted from each other. They even seemed to be in love at times (although neither would ever willingly admit it).

He was furious by now. He couldn't come to any sort of conclusion as to how Buffy could distrust him like that. She'd looked at him with so much betrayal that he'd almost wished he'd done what she thought he'd done so he wouldn't have been so hurt at being accused of it like that. No, that wasn't true. He had done what she'd thought he'd done-just not to her.

He raked a hand through his already messy hair and lowered his head to the table in front of him. He looked at his own reflection in the over-polished wood. It was blurry, but he still looked like a complete and utter mess. Or maybe it was just his vision...

There was something in his heart that longed to be with her again, but another part kept telling him that he shouldn't be with her if she didn't even trust him enough to believe him over...well, anyone else-especially Darla. If she would only hear him out...

It was too late, though. He'd seen the removalists' trucks parked outside her house and loading boxes and pieces of furniture wrapped in large sheets of plastic. Graduation was tomorrow-it was as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

*****

Graduation came and went, and to Angel, it seemed the same with Buffy. She came into his life and now she was gone. She'd left with her family right after the ceremony and had hardly even had time to say all her final farewells. She didn't even seem to find the time to say goodbye to *him*.

It was as if he never existed to her. She didn't even make eye contact with him when she walked past him. She'd successfully turned him into the shell of the man he usually was. He was so out of it that he didn't even realise that Cordelia was hanging off of him for half of the time he stayed after the ceremony. When Spike finally pointed it out, he brushed her off like specks of dust on his jacket and left the scene altogether, walking home by himself in his graduation robes. He didn't care that it was too hot or that he looked odd-he noticed nothing and wished to stay that way.

He loved her and in his deepest fantasy, she'd loved him as well. But it didn't matter anymore-what was love without trust?

*****

Buffy looked longingly out of the tinted rear window of the limo and wished she could give in and jump out of the car to walk with him and let him explain. She'd seen him brush Cordelia off and it prided her to no end that he could still be the same guy she knew, even after all they'd been through.

He loved her and she loved him. There was nothing else that mattered, she tried to tell herself. But it didn't matter that he loved her. After all, what was love without honesty?

*****

The summer passed slowly for the both of them-Buffy was always on her toes, working on her new album, appeasing the press and getting her life back into its usual order. Angel, however, had become recluse and had resulted to helping his mother by driving her to and fro, helping her carry groceries and became a literal homebody. Spike and Faith had to kick him in the ass to get him to go to the Bronze and get out of the house.

Buffy's new album was a huge success and they had already begun discussing concert dates and other assorted preparation for what was to be her biggest show ever. They had the dancers, choreographers, lighting, production, sound, construction, costume and make-up crews already all under contract. It promised to be a big affair with sell-out crowds and extra shows.

Yet, through the commotion, all she could think about was how Angel was and how he was coping lately. Was he living it up and being the ladies' man she knew he had been before he'd met her? Or was he taking it like she was, being somewhat recluse and just wishing that they went back to where they were before all the trouble arose? **Scratch that. I don't want to know.**

*****

"You know, you shouldn't sit around feeling sorry for yourself," Spike said, giving Angel a friendly pat on the back. "I think that maybe you should try getting through to her again."

"And how do you propose I do that?" he asked tiredly. He just wanted to go back home and stare at the single poster he'd put up on the ceiling of his room, directly over his bed.

"Do something romantic. All lasses like a little romance-and I know that for a fact," Spike grinned.

Angel groaned, "I'm not going to even ask..."

"Oh, but you know I'm right."

"Get me drunk first-then I'll admit it."

"Sorry, didn't bring any fake ID. I woulda, but the bartender here knows I'm not old enough. Bugger, eh?"

Angel just shrugged, not really caring either way. "So...what do you suggest I do, then, Prince Charming?"

*****

After denouncing each and every suggestion Spike came up with, Angel trudged home on his own and plonked himself down in front of the television, relishing in the familiarity of sinking into the soft leather-covered cushions of the seat. It was annoyingly early, preventing him from falling asleep and annoyingly late to watch any of the Sunday night movies on offer. All he could conclude was that life sucked and that MTV was gradually getting more and more monotonous.

He spread himself out on the sofa and tried to fall asleep by forcing his eyes closed and waiting. He lay down like that for about five minutes until he gave up and sat back up. There was nothing that could keep his mind from wandering. It was time for a resolution and in his current frame of mind, he couldn't think of anything that resembled a resolution, let alone a vaguely romantic one.

Flicking through every channel available, he settled down to watch another of those celebrity gossip shows and slowly felt his eyes drooping from boredom and utter exhaustion a few minutes later.

"...Buffy Summers."

Angel's eyes snapped open at the mention of her name. He sat up properly again and glued his eyes to the screen as he saw his ex's face again and again and again. Apparently her album was doing well in the number of sales and had prompted a very speedy decision for a tour to be held.

"...Tickets on sale from September 18th."

**Whoa, that's a long time from now. It's only, what? August the... Hey, what IS the date?** He looked down at his watch. **Fuck! Why didn't anyone tell me it was already the 10th? That means I start college in a week...shit.** He quickly scribbled down the details from the screen and hurried upstairs to start packing.

UCLA was going to be too far away from home to be careless about what he packed.

*****

"Delta Terrace, Delta Terrace, where oh where is Delta Terrace?" Angel mumbled to himself, looking up from an incredibly vague map to his surroundings. He was trying to find his room-keyword: trying-and getting lost in the process. His parents had handled the rest of his luggage, figuring that they would save him the trouble of dragging all his belongings around while he got lost looking for his room and missing the first day of the three-day orientation program. His sense of direction sucked...actually, 'sucked' would be an understatement.

He looked from right to left. His eye caught onto the lettering on one of the buildings in line of vision to his left. There were too much concrete and too little trees, he decided-he would've completely missed the words 'Delta Terrace' jutting out of the wall had the his head not shifted to avoid the shine of the concrete at the exact moment he was looking in that direction. "Aha, there you are. Delta Terrace."

His key read '307', the room was decidedly considerably less troublesome to locate than the building. He turned the key in its lock and braced himself. He'd seen the pamphlets and heard about dorms from friends and relatives and nothing could've prepared him for the reality-it was very...

Homey. Pleasant, not too small (although still considerably smaller than his room at home) and consisted of two beds, two desks, a fridge, microwave, a TV, a set of drawers, two wardrobes, an adjoining private bathroom and several sockets in the walls for electricity, internet, phones, etc. There was a pleasant view out the window toward the courtyard below and the walls were an off-white colour. All in all, it looked comfortable enough and he couldn't wait to meet his roommate.

On his bed was a large box and two suitcases filled to the brim with things he would need plus the things his parents thought he would need. Angel immediately dumped his bag on top of the two suitcases and began to open the large cardboard box-his computer. Handy for three things: contacting his family (and bluffing about what a great time he was having), doing his assignments (or for using in a rush when he realised he'd been putting off an assignment for too long) and looking for more news on Buffy.

With that thought, he set to work shoving the whole box on his desk and throwing everything to the ground to open the suitcase being squashed underneath the other. Slipping his hand carefully underneath a pile of clothes, he pulled out a photo frame. In it was picture of himself and Buffy taken at the Santa Monica Pier-it was his favourite out of all the pictures he had of the both of them together. He wanted her back, for them to be the way they were again. He set the photo frame up on the shelf over the desk. When he was finally satisfied with its position, he started getting the rest of his stuff in order-the most important being the computer.

*****

Several minutes after he got the computer all set up and in working order, Angel heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the door. In trundled a suitcase and beside it, a few boxes that were filled to almost overflowing. Angel heard the voice of, he presumed, his new roommate saying goodbye to his mother and father before he heard the door click closed.

A head peered through the doorway, a smile brightening on its face as soon as he saw Angel halfway buried beneath his table, fixing a wire that he'd accidentally dislodged with his foot. "Hi, you must be my roommate. I'm Jared, Jared Gulliver." He extended his hand out to Angel in a friendly manner.

Angel dusted his hands off and accepted the handshake. "Angel, Angel Ferguson." **Good thing he isn't one of those nerds who look like they'll stay in every night to study and do their assignments. How boring would being stuck living with a person like that be? Also, he didn't make a James Bond crack. That's definitely a good thing.**

"So, uh, Angel, what course are you doing?" Jared asked casually as he picked up a few of his boxes from where he'd left them and shoved them straight into his wardrobe.

"Business Economics. You?"

"Civil Engineering, but I have no idea what I'd do with a degree like that," Jared shrugged. "I bet that's what half of the people here are here for anyway-to get a degree and then have no idea what to do with it and end up getting a job as a postman or a fledgling actor."

"Count me out of that half then. I have bigger plans than to feature in a series of infomercials starring kitchen appliances or Tae Bo videos," Angel joked.

"Don't worry. You don't look the type anyway," Jared replied, laughing softly as he remembered the small collection of Tae Bo videos sitting on the shelf at home as a result of his mother's one-time drunken shopping spree. Add two exercise machines, some skin care products, a set of non-stick pots and pans, 500 slimming tablets and a set of complimentary steak knives and you'd get a pretty good idea of how drunk she was at the time.

His eyes wandered around the room and decided that it was a bit too bare than he would've liked. The walls were too white and it made him almost feel as if he were in a psychiatric hospital. With newfound resolve, he stuck his head into the wardrobe and delved into one of the boxes he'd chucked in just moments earlier and pulled out a large white roll with two elastic bands securing it together. Jared removed the rubber bands and unrolled it out onto his bed.

"This is exactly what this room needs-some decoration," he said. He held up the first from the pile, "This is my personal favourite."

Angel gulped. Buffy. Again and again and again. "So I take it you're a...fan?"

"Are you kidding? Who wouldn't be with a body like that?"

Angel suppressed his rage (although he supposed that Jared was right) and just continued to put his stuff away in the wardrobe and in the chest of drawers. **At least only I know what she looks like completely naked...**

"You're too quiet. You don't seem the quiet type. What's up?" Jared asked as he secured the last corner of the last poster to the wall. "I know we don't know each other well or anything like that, but now is as good a time as any to find out all this stuff, right?"

Angel wordlessly turned his gaze to the photo sitting in the photo frame and continued what he was doing.

Jared watched his new roommate closely as he looked towards the photo frame sitting on the shelf squinting to try to see the photo more clearly, succeeding eventually by getting closer to it.

"How'd you do that?" Jared asked, pointing at the photo.

"How'd I do what?"

"Manipulate that photo like that," he said, pointing at the photo. "And here I thought you weren't a fan."

"No, not technically. Besides, that's a real photo."

"Well then if she had one of those CD signing things in, what's this? Santa Monica? I would've heard about it...weird," he was now almost pressed right up to the photo frame, inspecting the photo for telltale signs of manipulatory work and coming up empty-handed, "very weird."

"She's my girlfriend," Angel finally said. "Or was, anyway," he added with dejection.

"You crazy motherfucker... There is no way I'm believing that," Jared said, backing away with each syllable. "Besides, didn't she used to go out with some guy...?" Reaching into his wardrobe once again, he pulled out a magazine and flipped to the page he remembered seeing the article on. "Okay then, I believe you."

Part 21

Angel's finger was poised over the buttons on the phone, ready to dial the number to the ticketing office at the exact moment they opened. He tried two minutes ago and they'd just turned him back and gave him a voice recorded message saying that they would open in two minutes time. As soon as the numbers on his clock radio changed, Angel began to dial frantically.

Following the phone prompts, he used his brand spanking new credit card to buy the tickets and had managed to secure seats for himself and ever-annoying roomie. In the ten seconds or so that Angel had been carefully listening to the to-do-such-and-such-press-one...so on and so forth message, he'd lost about 12 rows to other callers, those buying over the counter at the ticket offices and people purchasing over the internet. **Woah, tough.**

It was madness. Ten seconds and already enough tickets were sold to fill twelve rows. *Twelve*-if he'd waited for the full message to play, he guessed he probably would've lost closer to twenty rows.

Later he checked the seating arrangements over the internet and found that he'd actually gotten aisle seats-perfect for his plan. Nothing extravagant of course-certainly not anything that would involve singing or dancing or anything remotely publicly humiliating. Or at least he hoped it wouldn't.

*****

Again, screaming of fans. Again, applause. It didn't hold the same magic to her as it did before, when she thought it could only get so good. But now...now she wasn't so sure anymore. It was different last time. It was more exhilarating. All that she was concerned about now was that Angel would get her hints-she was sure he was watching it in some way or another-if not by coming to the actual event or by watching it on pay-per-view. She'd written a song especially about him a month after the break up and had been the most meaningful song to her from the whole album.

After a long and emotionally draining conversation with Jenny, she'd fallen apart and admitted her true feelings about the whole catastrophe. She knew she loved him already. She knew he loved her back. The problem was that she couldn't admit to herself that she still wanted to be with him, not until Jenny forced it out of her by brute force...or rather, supportive words.

The first show hadn't even started yet. She was still waiting nervously backstage as she wondered if it was still a good idea to go ahead with her plan to profess her love to him in such a public way. But of course, she couldn't back out now. The band had rehearsed it already and probably wouldn't be happy with her if she decided at the last minute to cut it out of the program. Nor would she be too happy with herself afterwards.

*****

"Gunn!" Angel shouted as soon as he spotted the bald African-American wading through the crowd of fans still waiting to get into their seats. Angel was armed with a bunch of nineteen red roses. That is, a dozen plus seven-Buffy's lucky number. Remembering that little detail had been an easier feat than figuring out how he could remember so easily in the first place. Amongst the roses sat a crisp white piece of card carefully written on by him and him alone. He just hoped it wouldn't end up in her drawer of "I love you" cards from supposed "secret admirers". She'd even shown the drawer to him once-it was only half full so far.

Gunn didn't turn around immediately (his movement was currently...constricted), but when he did, he instantly recognised him. "Loverboy!"

"Will you stop calling me that?" Angel grumbled.

"Ooh, flowers. Are they for me?" Gunn asked in a mocking tone that made Angel idly wonder if he was about to swoon like an 18th century debutante.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Okay, here's the deal," Gunn said, suddenly turning a bit too serious and threatening for Angel's liking. "I don't know what happened, but you hurt her bad. If you expect her to forgive you cos you brought a bunch of flowers, then I think that maybe you should reconsider your chances."

Angel turned the bunch of flowers around and pointed to the card inside, "There's a note."

"And what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"Could you just...give them to her? Make sure she sees the note. And also, I need you to tell her that I got a dozen, plus seven. I'll owe you one..."

"You, my man, have a twisted logic. Why didn't you just get seven single ones and smush them together? Then you'd get her ACTUAL lucky number. Still, twisted logic."

"I thought of that, but then the bunch looked too small. Please tell me your next phrase will be 'I'll see what I can do,'" Angel pleaded, coaxing it out of him by pure desperation.

"I'll see what I can do," Gunn said, accepting the roses. "Also, my message is that she has a message for you. Which you'll...ah, find out about sooner or later."

"Are you pulling my leg or are you clueing me in on something?" Angel asked suspiciously as he found his seat and slowly sank down into it, not breaking eye contact.

"Both," he replied mysteriously as he left, having a little difficulty with his planned scene-exit scenario as the lights had been dimmed and there were still a whole flood of people trying to get to their seats.

Jared looked at Angel in question. "Who the heck was that?"

"Charles Gunn. He's her, uh, permanent bodyguard."

"Oh. Interesting. Are they...?"

Angel flashed him an odd glance, "Uh...no?"

"Just checking."

*****

AN: The song is "I Love You" by Faith Evans, from the album, 'Faithfully'. Cue: download.

Buffy hurriedly slipped behind the changing screen backstage with three of the people from wardrobe bearing her next costume, jewellery and shoes. Okay, not exactly a costume, since it was store-bought dress, but technically...

She unhooked the microphone headset from her ears and threw it to one side, managing to be able to be stripped of most of her previous costume in the process. She picked up a bottle of water from a nearby table and gulped down half the contents and managed to don the plain white gown at the same time.

One of them started undoing her hair, another was securing a necklace around her neck and the last of them was putting shoes on the floor so that she could slip them on. After they were done with her hair, a fourth guy came in and gave her a heavy black microphone and told her she had all of fifteen seconds to do whatever she wished. Or 12 seconds by the time he finished telling her.

Gunn appeared out of nowhere..."These-"...and presented her with Angel's bunch of roses "-are for you."

Buffy beamed. "Gunn...you didn't have to. That's so sweet..." She brought the bouquet up to her nose to smell them.

"I didn't. Loverboy asked me to give 'em to ya. Told me to tell you there are nineteen, too. A dozen, plus seven."

"Really? I can't believe he remembered me saying that..."

"I think that's your cue," Gunn said pointedly as the first few chords of the next song were played and the screaming of the crowd died down in reply to the mellowness of the accompaniment. Buffy grabbed the note tucked within the flowers and wrapped it around her microphone. She set the flowers down on a nearby empty chair and hurried back onto the stage.

She took a deep breath. This was the right moment for saying the three little words that she'd somehow kept locked up inside for months. Its time had come; right here and right now.

//My heart belongs to you
So what could I do
To make you feel I'm down with...
You see me hangin' around
But you don't know how
You make me feel for you, and...//

She poured her heart out as she sung. She'd written the song for him and now she was singing it for him. He was out in the crowd somewhere and she wanted him to know that she meant what she was singing.

//Each and every day, I try to make some sense of this What you mean to me, I know it could be serious Each and every night, I dream about just holding you Loving you like this, what is a girl supposed to do//

The backup vocalists sang the first half of each line and Buffy sang the second half, the harmony stirring Angel from his daze to recall what Gunn had hinted at before. "She has a message for you," he'd said. Was this the message? He had the album and recognised the song to be the ironically titled "I Love You"...it was his favourite track and he often spent whole days listening to the song on repeat. It just meant the world to him to hear her say those three little words.

//I love you, I want you
You're the one that I live for
And I can't take it anymore
I love you, I need you
What can I do to make you see
You're the only one for me//

Buffy searched the crowd-starting from the back-for that familiar face that her heart was aching with the need to see again.

//First time I saw your face
My heart just erased
All the guys I knew
Before you walked into my life
I was the type to never want for nothing//

Getting to the sides, she still couldn't find him. She was starting to get desperate. The only good thing to come of the search, should it be unsuccessful, is that she would've made eye contact (however briefly) with almost every member of the audience. She prayed to God silently that it would be successful.

//Each and every day, I try to make some sense of this What you mean to me, I know it could be serious Each and every night, I dream about just holding you Loving you like this, what is a girl supposed to do//

Angel realized that she had yet to notice him there, near the front of the audience, looking straight at her throughout the whole of the time she'd been onstage. Maybe it had something to do with the obsessed screaming girls sitting in front, who were unable to *stay* seated.

//I love you, I want you
You're the one that I live for
And I can't take it anymore
I love you, I need you
What can I do to make you see
You're the only one for me//

Finishing with searching the sides of the concert hall, she concentrated on searching the section in front of her where she guessed Angel was least likely to have gotten a seat in...unless he really rushed to get the tickets over the phone... She concentrated harder-that was definitely something she could imagine him doing.

//I love you, I want you
I need you in my life
Can't you see what you mean to me?
Baby, come hold me tight//

Nearing the front, she finally found him. He was looking up at her with dazed eyes, as if he couldn't believe that she'd found him in a crowd like this. He was behind a bunch of three girls who she'd noticed before, but they'd obstructed any sort of view she could've had of him. It was chance that the person sitting beside him had tapped one of them on the shoulder when he did. **God bless that person who I don't have a clue about.**

//I miss you, wanna kiss you
Every time I see your face
Baby I'll be waiting for you
Each and every day//

One of the girls sitting in front of Angel kept turning around to look at him and Jared. He felt like telling her it was creeping him out, but restrained himself. It would mean that he'd have to break eye contact with Buffy...which would be bad.

The girl turned around again and gasped. She turned back to the front sharply and quickly whispered to her friends, who each gasped louder than the girl before. **Maybe they recognize from somewhere. I think I'll deem this the Jared Realisation.**

Buffy glared at the three girls checking her guy out (or so it looked from her line of vision). **Hey! Eyes off!**

//I love you, I want you
You're the one that I live for
And I can't take it anymore
I love you, I need you
What can I do to make you see
You're the only one for me//

Her voice was nearly hoarse with emotion. She was getting close to the point where she just wanted to drift off the stage and back into his arms. It was certainly bordering on corny, but she didn't care what anyone else-not even Jenny or Giles (wherever those two disappeared off to half an hour ago)-thought about their relationship, not now or ever again.

//Baby you're the only one for me
And you know it's meant to be
What can I do to make you see
My love will carry on
So listen to my heart and know
To find out where my love will go
The future lies between us, boy
Oh babe, I love you so//

She carefully unwrapped the card discreetly as she sang. On it, Angel had written a poem, one that he'd written himself.

"I know I can't sing
I know I can't dance
I know I'm not nearly perfect
But I have to take a chance

The feelings in my heart,
I know you may not reciprocate
But there's a thirst-not in my throat
That I cannot seem to sate

The only thing I do know,
And for sure, it's true
Is not only that I was a fool
It's that I love you..."

It wasn't a very good poem, but it said exactly what he wanted to say to her. Angel saw the flash of white that she held in her hand and instantly flickered his eyes to her face. She was smiling, beaming, grinning...there just weren't enough words he could think of describe the smile she gave him.

Buffy tucked the card safely back into her hand and quickly cut off the rest of the song (which was just more repeated chorus).

//I love you//

*****

When he got home that night-after unsuccessfully trying to sneak backstage-he was surprised to hear noises coming from his dorm room. It was Jared (who had declared Angel a lost cause and gotten back by his own means of transport) and somebody else, whose voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hey, Loverboy. Gotta say, I never imagined that dorms could look so...civilised," Gunn said, gazing around and poking his nose into the things on Angel's desk. "Hey, you still have that picture from the Pier," Gunn held up the frame and grinned proudly, "I'm an amateur at photography, but I think this turned out damned good, don't you?"

"Speak or forever hold your peace," Angel said, sighing. Jared watched from the other side of the room, intent on keeping out of the conversation and content to be allowed to witness it.

Gunn rubbed his hands together, "Someone's gonna get lucky tonight..."

"Yes, and we all know it's not gonna be you. No news there," Angel grinned.

"Hey! I take offence to that. I have a girlfriend and I am *not* afraid to turn her on you."

"Okay, I got it. Now what was it you wanted to say?"

"Why don't you," Gunn pointed to Angel, "come with me, and we'll go on a little drive."

*****

Gunn held the limo door open for him, gesturing for him to get inside with a flourish of his free hand. Angel looked at him suspiciously, but got in nonetheless. Gunn slammed the door after him.

"Put it on the boil and let simmer for half an hour," Gunn said to himself curtly. "It's time to party!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, slamming the front passenger door behind him and they headed off for destinations unknown (though possibly just a winding route through the area).

*****

Angel blinked to adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. It was then that he noticed that he wasn't alone...in a good way, of course.

He swallowed a lump in his throat before he could squeeze out the tiniest of tiny sounds, "Buffy?"

"Of course, silly," she said slowly as she moved up to sit next him. She was wearing a pair of worn-out jeans and snug-looking sweater, but he still couldn't imagine her looking better than she did right now. **Well, technically...better would involve the loss of the jeans and the sweater, but...** "Seeing as we owe each other an apology, can we just say that they cancel each other out and skip to the bit where I kiss you?"

Angel nodded, not knowing how to respond. She quickly climbed into his lap and kissed him as if she hadn't seen him for a thousand years, which wasn't far from the truth, in her opinion.

"I wrote that song for you, you know. And I do love you."

"I know...I love you, too. I-I turned down several scholarships to be near you," Angel said, and then as an afterthought, added, "you know."

"Really? What kind of scholarships?"

"Not academic, of course. They were all football scholarships. My dad wasn't too happy with me," he said, laughing at the memory. He let his hands wander, eventually ending up at the same place as his gaze. "Lucky jeans?"

"Well Gunn DID mention something to you didn't he?" she said smirking. "Lucky you."

AN: There will be no sequel!!

Send feedback to Ice Princess

Back to the Fanfiction Archive