Disclaimer: i'm just using the characters, i'm not making money of this. honest.
Rating: pg as per usual
Spoilers: s5 on buffy, s2 on angel (in a round about sort of way)
Notes: this is my first time in sending fic to ba_fluff... yay! it's a short, short piece. i'm being convinced to write more to it...

Angel flicked the switch to the last hotel room and leaned against the frame, taxed from being awake all day. He yawned, massaged the muscles in the back of his neck and started to make his way to his room. He heard a noise, movement of a human downstairs. Angel was completely still in the shadows for a second, listening, then lifted his nose to the air and caught the scent of vanilla. A blinding and not altogether unfamiliar wash of emotion passed through him; lust, anger, hurt, and most of all, love. He caught memories of breathing that scent, tasting it, worshipping it, craving it still. Angel tightened his hand into a fist, jaw clenching hard.

Buffy.

His gaze flickered around the room, searching for her stupidly and clumsily, like a dehydrated man searching for water. Angel hesitated on the landing, rational questions filling his mind that put a damper on his rush to find her. Why was she here? Was she in trouble? Did he even want to see her? Hadn't they agreed to keeping apart?

He found himself jogging down the stairs without any of the questions answered, unbearably eager to see her. It was disturbing - pathetic almost - how much he missed her, how she could still provoke such an immediate reaction in him.

She stood there quietly in dim light, fingering the material on her left sleeve delicately between thumb and forefinger. Her hair hung around her shoulders, slightly messy, as if she had run her hands through it too many times. Dressed haphazardly; old faded jeans and a thin black blouse; too light for the weather now, with sneakers still undone. She held her head slightly lowered, mouth trembling and eyes cast downwards, looking brittle and tense.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs, collected and neutral, unbeating heart in his throat, waiting for her.

Buffy took a long shaky breath before she started to speak. "I've got... there's some things going on at home. Bad things. Things that I can't fight physically. And I'm not--dealing well with it... at all, really. I know I shouldn't be here and I know that we agreed to stay away from each other, but I... I didn't know who else..." She faltered, a shudder of emotion passing through her small frame. Her voice became ragged with tears. "I'm sorry if this a bad time for you and if you want me to go, I can. I know it's kind of a crazy thing to do... to come here and be like this without any warning... and I'm out of line in--in saying that I need you right now..."

Her expression broke apart and Angel quickly pulled her into his arms, forgetting about all the reasons he shouldn't be touching her and just holding her. Buffy buried her face into his chest and sobbed hard while he gingerly stroked her hair, not saying anything and not needing to.

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