SUMMARY: Joyce decides that the only way for Buffy to sort through her problems with Angel and her recent pregnancy is to leave Sunnydale. Will Buffy and Angel work things out?
DISCLAIMER: I own none of the BtVS characters, they all belong to Joss Whedon and a bunch of other people that I don't feel like naming right now.
DISTRIBUTION: Please ask first, but I will say yes! Will also be archived at
CLASSIFICATION: B/A
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: Yes please! (this is unbeta'd, by the way:)
NOTE: I may jump around in this series, as certain challenges pertain to certain parts that I want to do, but everything should still be understandable when read.
THINGS USED FROM CHALLENGE:
a valuable antique
someone getting a new job
cookbook
a disposable camera
an unconventional couple

Carefully and slowly, Joyce wiped the surface of the antique tabletop, then down the legs of it, being sure to get into the crevices of the intricate carvings embedded into the wood.

She'd traveled for quite a while, and had finally stopped in a small town north of Los Angeles. She'd quickly applied for a job in an antique store, and with her vast knowledge of the furniture and various paintings and artwork around the tiny shop, she'd almost immediately gotten the job.

Feeling a bit proud of herself, she'd considered writing to Buffy, but didn't know if her daughter had found out about her whereabouts yet. Although she'd talked to the priest almost a week ago, it would not do any good to take chances such as that. She'd send Buffy an e-mail in about a week.

She'd decided that it wouldn't be the best idea to write a letter or send a postcard, because then it would be easier to determine her location. That was not something she could risk.

She only hoped that Buffy was alright.

*

It was 9:00 in the morning when Angel woke up.

He roused slowly, cursing the few spurts of daylight that shone into the room from beneath the blinds. He'd taken to living with Buffy in her home where she had once lived with her mother, and had been there for a few days. He wanted to be as close to her as possible in her time of need.

It was awkward, and it was dangerous, but they managed. No one had been informed of his presence, and hopefully, the issue wouldn't need to be discussed for a while, at least not until he was settled in. He imagined that they all knew about her pregnancy, and he didn't want to jeapordize his and Buffy's relationship by asking her. It was like walking on egg shells when talking to her, and everything was progressing very slowly.

He stood and dug through a duffel bag on the floor for a pair of black slacks and a white tank top. He didn't want to unpack, just in case things didn't work out.

Running a comb and some gel through his hair, he quickly made himself presentable before making his way downstairs.

He found Buffy sitting on the couch in the living room, thumbing through an old cookbook.

"What are you doing?" He quietly asked.

She looked up. "Good morning to you, too."

Properly flummoxed, he swallowed nervously. "Sorry, I didn't think."

"You never do."

He shook his head. "Not this early in the morning, Buffy."

Nodding, she looked back to the cookbook and began flipping pages.

He sat down in a chair across the room and watched her for a few moments before speaking again. "What are you doing?" He repeated.

She shrugged. "Figured I should start eating more food before I start hating the food I like and liking the food I hate."

He raised his eyebrows.

"'Course, I might not want to gain the extra weight so early in the pregnancy." She sighed and sat back in the pillows. "Where do you think my mom is?"

There it was. They'd avoided all discussion about her after seeing the priest a few days ago after he'd called, and Angel had been dreading the inevitable conversation.

"I don't know." He replied.

"Do you think she's lost? Or confused? Do you think she needs me?" Although her words didn't sound alarmed, they were colored with concern and apprehension, and above all, fear.

"I think she's fine, Buffy, I really do. She left so that you could work things out."

"But do you think she's gonna come back?"

He shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

Unwillingly, Buffy's eyes began to tear up, and she sniffled.

Angel shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know how to handle this situation. Normally, whenever a female client of his became emotional, he would hug her and offer words of comfort. But that was too much of a risk in this case. This was Buffy, the woman he loved, the woman he couldn't have. Touching her, feeling her, hearing her, smelling her, it was all too much of a temptation.

His supernatural hearing abilities suddenly picked up the sound of hushed whisperings on the porch, and before Buffy could say anything, he ran into the other room.

She was confused, and only when her friends charged through the door did the hurt of him leaving her so quickly in her emotional instability lessen. He'd left so that he wouldn't be seen by her friends.

Or at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of.

She smiled tearfully at her friends as they greeted her with enthusiusm, knowing that their joy and happiness was just an act, but glad they cared enough to play it out for her.

"Hey guys." She whispered.

Shaking his head, Xander plopped down next to her and swung an arm over her shoulder. "Now, now, Buff, don't let those unbalanced horomones get to you like this." He playfully scolded.

Grinning, Willow sat down on the other side of her and took her hand. "We are going out tonight."

"What?"

"That's right." Cordelia replied, who had returned to Sunnydale with Doyle shortly after Angel did. Of course, the story for the gang was that she'd heard about Joyce's departure and in a brief show of sympathy, had decided to move back and help out. She pulled out her credit card from her wallet and flashed it to them as if it were a golden prize to behold. "We're going for a nice, long drive to Los Angeles, we're going to go shopping, and we're going to see a movie, and we're going to have lots and lots of fun because Cordelia Chase said so!"

Doyle, bewildered at what she held in her hand, grabbed the credit card. "Delia, this is mine!"

She snatched it back. "Doyle, we need to make some sacrifices for Buffy, okay? So just let me have the credit card and all sacrifices are made. Think of it as giving it all at once instead of in bits and pieces."

"Giving what?"

"Sacrifices!"

Exasperated, he sat himself down on the couch and stared at her. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, I'm making it make sense!"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Me and Xander made sacrifices too! We had a romantic evening planned which involved champagne and roses and candles and sex, but then you dragged us along. And," she added as she fished through her bag and pulled out a disposable camera, "We were going to use this to capture the moment! *Several* of them in fact! So let's go already, and maybe we'll get back sooner and me and Xander can still *have* our evening!"

Sighing, Buffy nodded in agreement. She stood up and allowed herself to be led out by Xander with Anya trailing behind them, fuming with angry jealousy as she saw how close Buffy and Xander were walking.

Followed by Anya were Cordelia and Doyle, and then Willow and Spike, who hadn't said a word during the interval.

When Willow called him upon it, he shrugged and dug into his pocket for a cigarette. "You told me not to get the slayer's knickers in a twist, and if I said something I would have." He lit his cigarette and gazed at his lover with puppy dog eyes. "Do I have to go, love?" He whined.

Her lips curved up into a smile. "Yes, you have to go." She said as she took the cigarette from his hand and threw it to the ground, then stepped on it. "And you can't smoke, you know I hate that."

"I should be able to smoke if I have to go! I have to have *something* fun to do."

She raised her eyebrows suggestively. "I dunno.. if we hurry, we might get the backseat of the van we rented.. and then we *might* find something to do.. quietly of course."

He stopped. Stared. Then pulled her along as he ran to the van, shoving the rest of the gang away as he went.

"Get a room!" Xander shouted.

From inside the house, Angel smiled at the sight of Buffy and her friends once again trying to engage in something normal. That was what Buffy needed right now, and he hoped she came back happier.

"In the meantime," He mumbled, picking up the cookbook and flipping it to a page she had marked, "I have a dinner to prepare."

*

They arrived in Los Angeles a few hours later, and by then it was only noon. They stopped at a restaraunt and ate a brief lunch before setting out to shop.

While gazing through windows and entering various shops and trying on outfits, Buffy found herself actually having fun, something she'd thought she would never experience again.

She smiled as she looked at Cordelia laughing as she tried to shove a brown derby hat onto Doyle's head. They made a cute couple.

Spike nodded in approval at an outfit Willow had agreed to try on for him, which just happened to be a black, leather catsuit, much like the one Evil Willow had worn when she had been transported into their reality. Smiling seductively, Willow sidled up to him and whispered something in his ear which caused his eyes to bulge out. He gazed at her increduously as she teasingly walked away and began to look through a rack of clothes.

Xander and Anya, who had actually grown closer in a short amount of time, were standing off to the side, occasionally stealing a kiss or two as Anya sifted through the clothing.

She was happy for her friends, but she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for herself. She could never have that with anyone again. She could try, of course, but it would never be the same. Somehow, someone had impregnated her. Either that, or she was pulling some weird sort of Virgin Mary. Whatever the reason, she didn't feel comfortable even thinking such thoughts of dating or marriage or fornication with another man. Especially when she didn't know who the father of this baby was.

She sighed. Her friends had gone to all this trouble to give her a happy, carefree night without worry and yet, here she was, drowning in her sorrows, dwelling in a life that she couldn't have.

She picked up a piece of clothing, dove into a dressing room, and swore to herself that she wouldn't think about it for the rest of the night.

The rest of the day was uneventful. They'd shopped, had dinner, went to a movie, then had mochas and cappucinos at the local Starbucks.

When Buffy was finally dropped off at her front door, it was 11:00, and Buffy fully expected Angel to be reading by the fireplace as he had every other night that he had been here.

But when she walked inside the door, what she saw was so surprising that her breath hitched and she had to lean against the doorframe for support.

A roaring fire danced in the fireplace, the red and orange frames reaching high and licking up the various scraps of paper and wood that were scattered about.

A small table sat in the middle of the room, a single rose in a clear, glass vase sitting in the middle of it. Two single chairs were placed on either end of it, a plate and a silver dish covering it. Two wine glasses sat beside a bucket of ice with a rather expensive looking wine inside of it.

She gasped as Angel stepped into view, wearing a black, furnished tuxedo, and a single red rose in his hand.

She looked down at her own outfit, jeans and a black hooded sweater. She realized she was very underdressed.

"You look beautiful." He assured her. Had he read her mind?

He took her hand and led her to the table, pulled out a chair for her, and as she sat down, he placed the rose in the hand he still held and then closed his fingers around hers.

She smiled, and he sat down in the chair opposite her.

"Angel.. this is so beautiful.." She whispered, then looked up. "No one's ever done something like this for me before."

He offered her a tiny smile. "It was worth it.. just to see that look on your face.. that look of love and hope and serenity and.." He trailed off, his eyes lingering in her own for a bit before gesturing to the plate in front of her.

She answered his unspoken words by lifting the silver covering and gasping in delight as she saw her favorite dish, Chicken Cordon Bleu, sitting in front of her.

"Angel," She breathed, "This looks wonderful." She looked up, her eyes swimming in a pool of crystalline tears, "thank you."

"I told you, it was worth it." He said, smiling.

She nodded.

"I.. I wanted to tell you.." He paused.

"What?" She asked, slightly worried.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm here for you. Always. Even though we can't be together like we want to, I'll be here for you whenever you need me to be, and a hundred centuries after that. And I know we've been fighting a little bit lately, and I'm sorry if you've ever felt bad about anything we'd said."

She nodded, and the rest of the dinner was eaten in silence.

Buffy didn't comment on how vampires were able to eat edible food.

Angel didn't comment on how he didn't know that Buffy liked wine so much after her third glass.

They were both too busy drinking in the comfort of the moment, the tranquility and perfect solace that each felt in being together the way that they were, pretending they were a normal couple and were having a perfectly normal, romantic evening together.

And as they lay in bed later that night after a rather exhausting evening, they reveled in the feeling they'd had over dinner.

Because they knew that such moments were going to become scarce, especially with the following days ahead of them.

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