Summary and Spoilers: Everything up to Season 5 of Buffy and Season 2 of Angel, set after the stories "Sick of It" and "Making it Right". Buffy, tired of pretending, has told her friends exactly what she thinks about them and went to LA to rectify all the mistakes she made, hoping she doesn't come three years too late. She convinces Angle that they belong together, but then Faith walks in. In this story Joyce has recovered from her cancer and Glory is already defeated. Darla never came back and Angel hasn't gone psycho.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to Joss, though he is doing bad things with them.
Note: I wrote the original story "Sick of It" pretty much spur of the moment, but judging by the amount of people requesting sequels it seems to be pretty popular, so it might even become a series. That is if the feedback keeps coming in.

I am sitting on Angel's lap, straddling him, my hands on his bare chest, my lipstick smeared across his face. One of his hands has moved beneath my skirt, resting very high up my thigh. We are no longer kissing, though, no longer celebrating our reunion.

Faith is standing in the open door and looking at us with wide eyes.

"Hello, Faith!" Angel says, sounding much too calm for my taste.

"Oh, God." She says. There is a blush creeping up her cheeks. Since when does Faith blush?

I look at her and I am not sure what I am supposed to be feeling. The last time we met I was angry enough to kill her. She had stolen my life and I was angry. Looking back, though, at that time my life wasn't a very valuable thing to steal, was it?

Thinking back further to the time when everything between Faith and me was falling apart, I now know that I made a lot of mistakes as well. I was so caught up in my own problems that I barely paid attention to her until it was too late. I did nothing to help her after she accidentally killed Finch. She did a lot of bad things, but was it really all her fault?

"Hi, Faith!" I say after a long, long moment, surprised at how neutral my own voice sounds.

"Buffy," she sounds surprised that I even talk to her, "I ... I didn't expect you to be here."

Angel gently pushes me off his lap. I hate it, but I understand. We have waited for so long, I think it can wait just a little longer. I want to know what Faith is doing here.

"I thought the parole meeting was tomorrow." Angel says. Parole meeting?

"They got dates confused," Faith says, "It was late last night and they let me out two hours ago. I ... I should have phoned ahead. Sorry."

Angel turns toward me, sensing my confusion.

"Faith was a minor when she committed her crimes, so she made parole after but a year in prison. I promised a cop I know that I would be taking care of her after she came out."

I look back at Faith, who is staring holes into the carpet.

"So you're saying that she will stay here?"

Angel nods. We didn't get that far with our little talk-out, but I am not going to leave him again. I plan on staying here, with him. I am not sure what I'm gonna do about college and stuff, but I don't want to return to Sunnydale.

With Faith here, though, ...

"I ...," Faith begins, "I don't want to intrude. I can get another place. Sorry, I ..."

"You don't have to go." The words are out of my mouth before I have time to think about them. Did I really just offer Faith to stay here? With Angel? With me?

"I ... I thought that you ... I mean, seeing as the two of you ..." Her voice trails off.

"I will be living here now, yes," I turn to look at Angel, "right?" He looks at me for a moment, looking a little run over by all that's happening, but then nods, a smile on his face. "But that doesn't mean you have to go."

I walk toward her and she flinches away from me. For the first time I realize that Faith is afraid of me. It shouldn't be such a surprise, I guess. I stabbed her, throwing her into a coma for eight months. I chased her to Los Angeles and threatened to kill her. I put my hand on her arm and can almost feel her shivering.

"Faith, there is a lot of bad blood between us, but I ... I don't want it to be this way. I recently had ... well, I guess you could call it a moment of clarity. I made a lot of mistakes. About Angel. About my so-called friends. About you. I came to Los Angeles to make things right with Angel and, even though I didn't plan on this, maybe ... maybe I can do the same with you."

I lift up her chin to make her look at me.

"If you'll let me." I add.

Her eyes are brimming with tears and I am pretty sure there are some in mine as well. I remember the time when we were almost friends. It was so wonderful to have someone who knew exactly what it meant to be the Slayer. Someone who understood what that meant.

I am not sure why it didn't work, why it all fell apart the way it did. Her unwillingness to open up, the way me and my so-called friends always treated her like the outsider, a hundred other things that went wrong, so very wrong.

"I don't know what to say." Faith says, her voice trembling.

Angel walks up behind me, gently encircling me with his arms.

"We prepared a suite of rooms for you on the third floor, Faith. Get some rest. After that we will talk. All of us."

She nods, tears flowing down her cheeks. I squeeze her hand and she squeezes back. I made so many mistakes these past three years. Thank you, God, that some of them might yet be made right.

Faith walks up the stairs and Angel plants a soft kiss on my neck.

"Thank you." He whispers.

I twist around in the circle of his arms and lay mine around his neck, looking up at him.

"No, thank you for taking care of her when I was too blind. You said there was hope for her yet and you were right."

He smiles.

"Believing in yourself is a lot easier if someone else believes in you, too."

I know he is not just talking about Faith. There is so much pain inside him. So much pain between the both of us. It doesn't matter, though, not anymore.

"I meant what I said about staying, Angel," I tell him, "you'll not get rid of me again. Not ever. Don't even try to argue!"

He draws me closer, the lines of our bodies melting into one.

"I won't. I'm afraid this dream will end if I do."

"It's not a dream, Angel. Dreams were all I had for the last two years. Now I want the real thing."

He bends down to kiss me. There is a lot of things we still need to talk about. A lot of things we have to do.

Not now, though. Not now.

Go to the next story Open Wounds

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