This is Comfort Zone, part 1 of my April Fool's series. It takes place a few days after "Amends." It's probably a stand-alone piece, but it sets up the rest of the series. Enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: (n) a denial of legal responsibility; a written statement embodying this. I do not own these characters. The evil little acid-tripping troll– er, Joss Whedon – does.
SUMMARY: (n) a brief account of the main points of something. This happens a few days after "Amends" and is almost purely fluff. What, you want more? That's not `a brief account.'
SPOILER(S): (n) a projecting structure on an aircraft wing that increases drag - what the...!? I'd better use `to spoil:' (v) to damage as to make useless, etc; to impair the enjoyment of. Or spoilsport: (n) a person who spoils the fun of others. Discusses the major events of "Amends" and previous episodes.
RATING: (n) an assessment, an evaluation, an appraisal.
Rated `PG: Parental Guidance suggested' .
FEEDBACK: (n) information about a product, service, etc returned to the supplier for purposes of evaluation. Send all flames, compliments, questions, etc to GAKDragon@msn.com. Be sure to put "Re: Comfort Zone" as your subject title or my dad will delete it (God, I hate spam).
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Why must you clutter your mind with the inconsequential? All right, all right already. Buffy's in pain and Angel comforts her. This is the first story in my "April Fool's" series.

Joyce Summers knocked softly on her daughter's door. "Come in," came the muffled voice. She gently pushed open the door.

"Are you feeling okay, honey? You didn't eat much at dinner. Was it the Christmas leftovers?"

Buffy moaned and shook her head. "I'm not feeling good." She put a hand over her stomach and curled into a fetal position.

Joyce nodded with understanding. "I see. Do you want some Midol?"

Buffy shook her head. "Took some."

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed. "It hasn't kicked in yet?"

"Nope." Buffy sighed as her mom brushed her hair away from her forehead.

Joyce glanced out the window at the approaching storm clouds. "Are you sure Faith is okay out there on her own?"

"She'll be fine. She likes slaying."

"And you don't," her mother said dryly.

"It's not bad."

Her mother nodded, skeptical. "I thought about having a dinner for your friends. Just a few of them this time. We could make a New Year's party out of it."

Buffy shrugged. "Sounds okay."

Her mom stood up. "Well," she said kissing Buffy's forehead, "I hope you feel better tomorrow. Good night, honey."

"Night, Mom." Her mom closed the door and Buffy sighed. She knew Faith would be fine; she was always fine. Buffy was worried about Angel.

They were supposed to do some tai chi in the mansion before she joined Faith on patrol. But she'd gotten her period, and couldn't join either of them. Faith would shrug it off and go on her own, but Angel was still so vulnerable. Christmas had only been two days ago. What if he thought she'd deserted him? That she never wanted to be with him again? She immediately moved to get out of bed, but a cramp hit her and she fell back. She wished she could call him. She prayed he was okay.

*****

A powerful left hook snapped his head back, then a right uppercut made him fly back and land on the ground. The vampire snarled and sprang up, lunging out of the way of the Slayer's stake.

He reached back and threw a punch that landed on Faith's shoulder. She leaned into it, using his retreating momentum against him and placing a one-two combination to his gut. Faith threw a left hook at him, then grabbed a stake from her pocket and plunged it into his heart.

After the dust settled, she looked around the cemetery expectantly. "What, no more?" she asked the silence.

She glanced up at the cloudy sky and put her stake away. No sensible person would be out in the rain, so any vampires stupid enough to come out looking for food generally wound up empty-handed.

She looked around and was about to head out of the cemetery when three rubbery demons converged on her.

She cursed under her breath and grabbed her stake again. She kicked the gut of the demon closest to her and ran to a spot where she could better defend herself.

One of the demons caught her from behind and pulled her to the ground. She grunted and squirmed, nearly managing to get away.

The one who caught her sat on her back, while one of its buddies conjured a club with spikes on it. The other demon began chanting some ritual.

The demon with the club swung it down at her head. Faith squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blinding pain.

It never came. As the club swung down, a male hand caught it and yanked it away from the demon. He flung a punch at the demon's face, turned, and swung the club at the assailant sitting on Faith's back.

Faith scrambled away and sprang up as the demon fell over. She looked at her rescuer in mild surprise.

Angel swung the club at the demon's head again, this time contacting with its skull in a sickening crunch. Faith leaped and tackled the demon behind Angel.

The vampire whirled, then hefted the club and charged in. Faith snapped the demon's head back with a high kick to its chin, and Angel finished it off with the club.

Angel dropped the weapon, but Faith looked around the cemetery. Angel lifted an eyebrow in silent question.

"There were three of them," Faith said.

"Got him," he replied, pointing over his shoulder. She looked, and saw the third demon lying on the ground, a knife sticking out of his forehead.

"They're called Grasnok demons. They let off a stink that vampires can smell for miles." Angel looked around. "Where's Buffy? She was supposed to meet me earlier."

"She didn't show. I was gonna stop by after patrol, her mom insisted that I stay with them for New Year's."

He nodded. "I was headed over there, to check on her. I'll walk you."

"You don't need to do that. I'm five by five."

"It's on my way, Faith."

She shrugged and fell into step beside him. "Hey, Angel," she began a few minutes later.

He glanced over at her.

"Thanks for the save. I guess you're not so bad after all."

He smiled slowly. "Thank you for that. Kendra…." He trailed off. "I didn't know her that well, she wasn't in town that long."

Faith swallowed. "My watcher - the one Kakistos killed - said she was very dedicated to her calling. She didn't party, didn't hang around boys. She sounded like a nun."

He chuckled. "She was just raised differently, that's all."

"Like Buffy. I hated my mom, even when she was sober. Mrs. Summers is just so different. She's normal."

He made an agreeable sound. "She hates me, but I don't blame her. I flat out told her Buffy and I had slept together when I was evil. She's like Giles in that every time she sees me, her eye twitches. They think I don't notice."

Faith looked up at the Summers residence. "Guess you'd better not come in through the front door, huh?"

"Wasn't planning on it." Angel jumped silently onto the porch roof and crept to Buffy's window. He waved back at Faith, who entered the house by more normal means.

Buffy's light was still on, a sign that both relieved and worried him. At least she hadn't been killed on her way to the mansion.

But why hadn't she come? Had her mom grounded her? He smiled. That had worked better than Joyce planned the last time she'd tried it.

He knocked softly on her window. Several minutes later, Buffy opened it. "Angel," she said softly. "I'm glad you came. Come in, come in." She left the window and crawled back into bed, hugging Mr. Gordo.

Angel climbed inside and shut the window behind him. He turned around, his mouth opening to ask what had happened, when he saw her in bed, a look of discomfort on her face. He immediately moved to her side.

"Buffy, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She smiled and caressed his face. "I'll be fine in a few days. The first day's always the worst."

He knelt next to her bed, taking her hand in both of his. "First day of what?"

Her eyes widened. "You can't smell it?"

"Smell?" He sniffed. Her perfume and lotion filled his senses as always. Underneath there was a smell of decaying blood. He recoiled slightly. "Oh, that. You're having your-" He swallowed.

She nodded and pulled her hand away. He caught hold of it and gently kissed her palm. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the forehead. "I didn't mean it like that, Buffy. It's just - it's an involuntary reaction, like sunlight. I didn't even notice it until you mentioned it. But now that you have..." He got up and looked around the room. He pulled out a few drawers, moved some things on her desk.

"What are you looking for?"

"Marbles."

"Huh?"

"Do you have any marbles anywhere?"

"No."

"Damn." He stood in the middle of the room, thinking. "Well, I guess I could..." He sat on the edge of her bed. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

"Close your eyes, lie back." She did as he asked. He gently took the stuffed pig from her and sat it by her head.

He pulled the covers down and bunched them around her knees. Gritting his teeth, he vowed to look anywhere but at her face.

Placing his hands over her hips, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Relax. Don't be afraid."

He sat up and pressed down hard on her belly with his thumbs. He slowly kneaded in circles, squeezing with his palms.

Buffy let out a little moan. She felt around for Mr. Gordo, picked him up and held onto him.

Angel massaged her belly, just above where her cramps were. "Does this feel any better?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "Where did you learn this?"

"Tibet. Martial arts healing."

"I'm sorry I couldn't come."

He shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. You're hurt. `Sides, this is kinda fun." He grinned.

She laughed slightly.

"It's probably a good thing you didn't go patrolling," he continued as he kneaded with his knuckles. "All the monsters in Sunnydale would have been able to smell you coming," he teased.

She scrunched her nose at him. "That feels good. Keep doing that."

"Yes, Master."

She bopped him on the head with the pig. "I should chain you to that lamppost again."

"Ha, ha. That's if you could find the chains. I did some house cleaning and general breaking of stuff when you said you were never coming back."

Buffy sat up, breaking the rhythm of his massage. She ran her fingers along his eyebrow and cheek. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"You were right, what you said. We're not friends. We're soul mates." He put his arms around her. "I never did thank you for helping me get better after. . . Well, after."

She smiled at him sadly, and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. He held her tight, memories of those days threatening to surface. He'd smashed quite a few pieces of furniture in his heartache.

But she was here now, and despite what she might have said, she didn't want him to leave. Her pleas on Christmas morning had proven that.

He kissed her on the shoulder and relaxed his grip. She sighed deeply and pulled back. He pushed her hair out of her face.

"Feel better?" he whispered.

She nodded and kissed him. She felt that familiar charge run through her. Kissing Angel was so electric; he made her feel more alive.

"Thank you," he whispered when they broke apart.

"For what?"

"For not letting me stop fighting. For making me prove how much I love you." He caressed her cheek, making her smile.

He leaned slightly forward and kissed her again. Her hands ran up to his shoulders and pushed off his duster. Cradling her in his arms, he laid her back flat on the bed.

Angel kept his hands still, resting gently under her back. Moving them would lead to disaster. Likewise, Buffy let her hands play with his hair and his shoulders, but no further.

He broke the kiss to let her breathe, and she winced as her stomach muscles cramped. Chuckling, Angel teasingly shook his head and kissed her on the nose. "Get into bed, Ioniun."

"Huh?"

"Ioniun, it means beloved." As she obeyed, he stood up and turned off her light. He pulled off his blue long-sleeved shirt, folding it neatly on the corner of her dresser. He flipped the tag of his white T-shirt back under his collar. As a vampire, he didn't really need the warmth of extra clothing. It was just a comfort to have the extra layers, plus it was practical.

He shoved off his shoes, and then took off his jeans. Placing them on top of his shirt on the dresser, he rummaged around in the bottom of Buffy's closet for the afghan she stowed in there for him.

He dragged the hideous orange and brown cover over to her bed. He leaned over her to steal an extra pillow, but she stopped him.

"Sleep up here," she asked, patting the other side of her bed. "Please?"

"Okay," he said huskily. He gently climbed over her, lying on top of the covers, his back to the wall.

Buffy pulled the afghan over him, kissing him on the forehead. "Night, Angel."

"Good night, mo chroi."

"What does that one mean, again?" She turned over, slipping her hand under her pillow. He'd told her once before, he wasn't saying mockery, but some Gaelic endearment. She'd loved it, it made her feel like Angel was just another guy, who called his girlfriend cute little pet names.

He dropped a kiss on the back of her neck, pulling her back against him. "My heart." He splayed his fingers across her womb protectively, massaging her sore muscles.

She leaned into him, lacing their hands together over her stomach. The gentle rhythm of his massage put her to sleep.

Listening to her breathe evenly, Angel thought about what Faith had said. *I guess you're not so bad after all.* A reluctant admission and a rare smile from a very professional Slayer. And then, outside the house, genuine – if subtle – acceptance of his and Buffy's relationship. She didn't attempt to prevent him from seeing Buffy. Instead, she had made herself a member of the inner circle of Buffy's friends who knew the depth of their feelings for each other, and who protected them from her mother's wrath. With a soft smile on his face, he let sleep claim him.

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