Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss never calls, never writes. I’m thinking the party’s over. Still, I’m playing with his toys in a strictly not-for-profit sorta way until he says I’ve gotta give ‘em over.
Written for the Angel ficathon for Sasha_B
Pairing: Buffy/Angel or Kate/Angel
Genre Preferred: Any
Requests: Angst & Angel’s coat
Restrictions: No slash, no C/A
A.N.: The story takes place during the summer between seasons 1 and 2 of At S.

* * *

Kate Lockley hesitated before entering the little diner over on Tenth. She desperately wanted, needed, craved a "cuppa joe", as her father would’ve said but entering would mean she’d have to see him. And seeing him meant he’d see her and if they saw each other, it would mean one or the other of them would have to say something. She sighed, checked her watch, sighed again. The Tenth Street Diner had the best late-night coffee and had the added convenience of being less than eight blocks from the station.

She would’ve never guessed that Angel would have found the place.

Then again, maybe that was taking too much on faith. Kate rolled her eyes, touching the piece of paper in her pocket. It crackled and that gave her strength. False but strength, nonetheless. "Bite the bullet, Lockley," she muttered to herself and shoved the door open.

The bell jingled cheerfully and she walked into the brightness of the diner. The waitress behind the counter, Kellie, was already reaching for a cup and saucer and then heading down to grab a fresh pot of coffee. She gave the pretty redhead a smile and walked to the stool one away from Angel.

He was hunched over the counter, wrapped in that perpetually black coat of his; hair spiked, huge hands cradling a cup. The twitch of his mouth showed he noticed her and she decided she’d start the opening salvo. "So. Angel. Following me?" she asked.

"No," he said as Kellie swept back down the counter to take care of one of the cops at the other end of it.

Raising her eyebrows, Kate said, "C’mon, Angel, it’s not like caffeine’s your beverage of choice."

His expression darkened.

Good.

"Listen," he said, turning to face her, "I didn’t come here to fight."

"I doubt it was to drink coffee." Kate stirred cream and sugar into her cup and took a sip. Ahh, the best. Drinking diner coffee after a long shift was almost like dying and going to heaven. "I mean, this isn’t really your type of place, Angel. Not unless you’re looking for your next client or victim or whatever it is you call them."

Angel sighed. "Look, Kate," he said, "you have no idea what I’ve been through lately."

"Let me guess." She ticked them off on her fingers. "The building you lived in and worked from was blown up. One of your friends or is he an employee? Never mind. He was caught in that explosion. The other of your employees collapsed at a festival the same day. Both of them managed to survive, somehow, but now you’re out of a place to live and all your things." She traced a coffee ring on the counter, the liquid pooling under her finger. "But I guess you’d be used to losing things, wouldn’t you?"

His hands clenched into fists at the taunt but he managed to keep his voice relatively calm. "Not so’s you’d notice."

"Really?" Kate leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand. "That’s not the way I see it."

Angel turned completely to face her. "All right, Kate. Tell me how you see it." He gestured grandly, giving her the floor and his complete attention. "What have I lost."

"The girl. Girls," she corrected herself. "Both of them. That little blonde and the brunette who turned herself in so you wouldn’t have to go into that easterly facing cell." Aha, scored a hit. She managed to keep her gloating to herself. "One goes to jail, the other blesses you out in the stairway of my police station. Don’t think we didn’t hear it, Angel." She grinned. "So, who is that blonde, Angel? Because she seemed pretty upset with you."

Angel’s jaw clenched and relaxed. "She’s not really of any consequence," he said, the tone of his voice belying the tension that Kate could just see running through him.

"Yeah?" Kate shrugged. "Huh." She picked up her coffee and drank some of it. "You know, when your building got hit, I was tapped to check it out. Found the remains of some interesting stuff in there, Angel. Hope you had some good insurance."

"It was just things," Angel muttered.

"Things that seemed to mean something to you, one way or the other," Kate said thoughtfully. "Never could figure out what some of those slags of metal were. Books, pieces of pottery. Looked like you have a pretty important collection there." She set the cup back on the saucer carefully. "So, was it revenge?"

"Revenge," Angel said, his laugh short and sharp. "Not really."

"So you do know who set it."

He met her gaze. "Yeah, I know. They may have covered their tracks well enough to get away." He hesitated. "They hurt Wesley and Cordelia."

"They lived." She felt his flat stare like a knife at her throat. "I get it. No one touches you or yours without permission, huh?"

"Something like that," Angel said, turning the mug around in his hands.

Kellie came back to freshen their cups. Angel waved her off but Kate took a refill, adding new milk and sugar to correct the balance. "So, the little blonde." She tilted her head in time to see him stiffen, just a bit. "She was yours, wasn’t she?"

"What of it?" Angel asked, temper flaring just enough that she could see it.

"You still think of her, don’t you. The fact that she has someone else to occupy her nights, her days, someone she trusts," Kate wondered at this sneering person within her, the one who knew just what knife to twist to add to Angel’s pain. "That just kills you, doesn’t it."

Angel’s expression was so cold, Kellie could’ve collected ice cubes from him. "Kinda hard to do that," he said, his voice just as bitter.

"Subjectively," Kate said, thinking that tugging the tiger’s tail wasn’t one of her better plans. But her mouth just kept on going. "Inside."

"What do you want, Kate?" Angel asked, sounding a hair trigger away from firing.

"You and your kind out of my city," she said. "But it isn’t gonna happen, I know. So I’ll settle for you staying out of my way." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a couple of crumpled bills and some change and left it all on the counter for Kellie. Without hesitation, she dug into the other pocket, pulling out the piece of paper. "And maybe some thanks that I found this and your enemies didn’t." Tossing it on the counter, she spun on her heel and walked out the door, the bells chiming behind her.

Angel reached out slowly, pulling the scrap to him, amazed that it had survived. Willow’s handwriting was still legible on the back, the words, "Buffy Summers, Sunnydale, 1998" in green ink. He turned it over, surprised his hand didn’t shake.

Marred by heat and smoke, one of the corners burnt away entirely and the side crisp and fragile, she still gleamed out of the photograph like the sun, laughing, unaware that the photo was being taken.

He studied it for a few seconds more, then slid the photo into his breast pocket for safe keeping before paying his check and walking out the door.

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