rating: PG
disclaimer: not mine. sorry to dissapoint.
summery: or is it summary..? anyway, buffy is sent on a simple retrival exercise by giles. B/A
authors notes: you know i dont' even know if thats how you spell author, i think... oh anyway, feedback is great, if you can get it. always welcome of course.
i think thats it. enjoy!

I can see Cordelia. She's sitting leaning towards the computer monitor, squinting. Her eyes are straining to comprehend the letters on the screen. Her mouth, silently forming words, syllables slowly rolling around her mouth as she types. Which, without ever completing their journey from thought into vocal noise they disintegrate, semi formed on parted lips. I smile at her, despite the fact I know that she can't see me, I do so because she's not angry at me, doesn't hate me. Instead She calms my ragged nerves, and so I smile.

I knock twice, slightly amused by her shock. Cordelia is genuinely surprised to see me, as if I hadn't called five minuets ago to warn of my impending arrival. I cannot suppress the snicker that conquers my smile.

"Oh my God Buffy." That greeting, the compassion behind it seems foreign from her lips, yet it comforts me. There is no hatred there, only warmth. I murmur a reply incoherent to my own ears as I step over the threshold. She doesn't take notice of my apparent lack of enthusiasm but motions for me to progress out of theDoorway and down the hall to where he is.

"Angel has the notes." I falter, stopping in my tracks. I can't see him. Despite the heavy movements of the nerves churning through my stomach I don't move, don't twitch, don't dare to breathe. Cordelia turns to me expectantly.

I want to run to her, lurch forward into her arms and sob uncontrollably. I want her to smooth my hair, reassuring me that he doesn't hate me, that he won't leave me. But It won't help, Cordelia can't help, can't give me what I want.. I want for him to yell, scream. I want to fight him, anything that will mark the return of the passion between us. I can deal with hate, and anger, and pain. It what makes us what we are.

I'm faced with the very real possibility that in loosing that fire between us in us, I've lost him. My unconditional faith in him faltered. Yet he won't fight me. His stoic silences, void of emotion scare me more than anything. I mourn the ferocity they've replaced. I feel like the only thing I could count on has been viciously ripped from me and I am left, naked and alone in a barren desert, with no protection against the elements.

Cordelia's hand reaches to my shoulder feather light. She's stepped closer than she was, I hadn't noticed. Her eyes locked on my own in understanding, or maybe in finally acknowledging that she doesn't.

"Buffy" Angel's gruff order travels through the hall, causing me to blink, and her hand drops. I am conscious of my tongue darting over my lips as Cordelia releases the breath I didn't realize she was holding. The spell is broken. We were having a moment. That's almost amusing.

My feet move on their own accord, leaving Cordelia to wonder briefly over what just transpired before returning to her soundless words. The noise of my feet on the polished floorboards punctuates my uneven step forcing me to be acutely aware of my limp. I feel like one of those distorted representations of Richard the third as I limp to bedroom.

"Buffy" the address, no longer an order but still I stand frozen in the doorway, why did I come here?

"Your notes, rather the notes Giles needed." He can read me like a cheap novel, I'm here for those notes, right, good in fact, keep it simple. Keep it safe, demons, end of the world, that's easy, uncomplicated. I wonder if this, Angel and I, now constitute a working relationship. Another smirk.

Extracting himself from under the covers he stands, for the first time I am daunted by his height, his movements languid. I allow my lids to slide heavily over weary eyes and realize how tired I am of fighting him. I can feel him watching me as he crosses the room to stand at my feet information held out as a peace offering. Eyes now open, I reach out meeting him half way, fingers brushing his as I take my notes, and he slides back into bed.

Rooted in my spot in the doorway I watch the colour from the TV flicker across his face playing with his features. I wonder whether I should leave now that my task is accomplished. He lifts his eyes from the film to my own.

"Buffalo 66" he says by way of explanation. I told him to watch it, and he had listened, I realize he was feeling guilty too, for the things said and done.

He tilts his head and smiles, forgiven, it takes only a second before I am next to him on the bed, legs curled.

As the movie dims I wonder where all the noise from the world has gone. In the eerie silence I fancy that I can hear Cordelia's lips moving, shaping the words that will never result in sound. In my mind I am sure that had this scene been a movie it would have non-diagetic music playing, sound tracking this moment's existence. I wonder what song would be fitting.

I am brought back down by the feel of angel's eyes traveling over my body. I want to curl up in his arms and cry because I didn't believe in him and because I had disappointed him, I want to cry for everything and for nothing all at once, as if through that simple act I could be rid of all the hurt and this emptiness crawling through my stomach, chest arms and eyes. AS if I could erase everything the past year has brought, as If I could take us back to before the prom and make him stay. But I know I can't. I want to forget my loneliness in his arms and let them comfort me.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to fall, I look up meeting his gaze. A single tear escapes causing me to smile a soft self-deprecating smile and prompting him to pull me close. And It is like this, Head resting on his chest, body lying in his fierce embrace I that I silently cry non-existent tears, and return to the simplicity I've been aching for, he doesn't hate me, he adores me.

On the screen Christina Ricci and Vince Gallow share an unconventionally awkward bedroom scene, I barely note my appreciation that there is no longer that awkwardness between us, only my silent tears for all the lovers that wont be him.

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