Part Five "Old Friends"

**Violence warning***

***

//go home there's nothing better than affairs of the heart
to make you feel so good
then tear you apart//

By the time the crowd had disappeared entirely and Anya had let herself out, after flashing a knowing look to the pair huddled in the corner, Buffy was officially intoxicated. She refused to lean on the arm that Angel offered as they headed for the door, claiming that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, thank you very much. When they reached the doorway, he asked her to wait while he went to get his car, which was parked a couple of blocks away.

She agreed to wait but he was worried about leaving her standing in the gallery alone. Not because he thought she wasn't safe, but because she was wobbling unsteadily on her high heel shoes and he was afraid she was going to fall over before he came back. She dropped her keys as she was trying to put them in the door to unlock it again since Anya had locked them in.

"Oops," she said, giggling and bent over to pick them up. As she did, her dress rode up enough to show the tops of her thigh high stockings. Angel held his breath as his groin tightened and reminded himself that he didn't want to sleep with her...tonight. She couldn't unlock the door quick enough for Angel to bolt out, needing to separate himself from the object of his dreams before he did something he knew he would later regret.

Buffy stumbled out of the gallery doors, even though Angel insisted that she relock the door and wait inside. She needed fresh air and felt perfectly safe even though it was close to one in the morning. She fumbled with her keys and took several moments to slip the key in the lock, but finally was able to successfully lock it and drop the keys into her purse. She turned around to look for Angel and found a large body slamming her back into the glass door.

A calloused hand covered her mouth as her head slammed against the door, cracking the glass behind her head and blurring her vision even more than it already was. She released a muffled scream as the front of her dress was ripped away. She could barely make out her attacker's face in the dark doorway, but he was nearly as tall as Angel with a slimmer build. His hair was blonde, she caught that, and he reeked of whiskey and cigarettes.

"Shut up, bitch," he said in his bland American accent as he pushed her down to the concrete walkway just in front of the door. Buffy squeezed out tears and tried to shake him off, pushing and punching at his shoulders. He punched her in the jaw, removing his hand from her mouth to do it, which gave her the opportunity to scream, "ANGEL!"

"Nothing's going to save you tonight, baby," he grunted. He took a second to look over her lithe body and soon found himself on his back with a large boot crushing in his teeth.

Angel saw them before he heard her scream his name and was already out of his car, leaving it double parked and running in the street. He sprinted the few remaining feet to save the woman he now knew he was in love with. Spending his life in orphanages and on the street, he had more than his fair share of fights. He used every move he had ever learned to crush her attacker into the sidewalk. Anger and rage that was usually foreign to the artist became a living beast inside of him as the man tried to crawl away. Angel kicked him in the side and enjoyed the gurgled grunt of pain that sprayed from his mouth with his blood. He pulled the blonde man to his feet and prepared to punch him again when he said, "Angel. Stop."

He didn't stop. He hit him as hard as he could even as the man's identity was realized. He looked down at the bleeding man and stomped on his chest, feeling several ribs crack inside his chest.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Angel asked, wanting to kill him with his bare hands.

"Just give me a second," he answered, struggling to breathe.

"Did you give her a second, Penn? What are you doing trying to rape girls in the street, you horrible fuck?"

"I was paid to do it," he wheezed. He tried to scoot away but Angel pressed his boot harder into his chest. He could hear Buffy sobbing in the doorway and he looked over to see her trying to gather bits of her dress to cover her exposed body.

"Who hired you?"

"I don't know," he said. Angel bent over to punch him hard in the face and nearly growled out his next words, "Wrong answer."

"I swear," he gasped. Angel looked down at the man he had been friends with in boyhood and stared into his eyes for a moment, searching for the truth. He moved his foot off of his chest and Penn started to sit up, only to fall back again when Angel kicked the side of his head, contacting with his temple and knocking him unconscious. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911 as he hurried to Buffy's side.

He knelt before her and looked down at her tearful, mascara streaked face. Blood was seeping from her full lips from where she had been struck and he felt the most abominable feeling he had ever known trickling into his soul. Someone he knew had to have hired Penn to do this to her. This was his fault. He gave the police the address and then shoved his phone back in his pocket before slipping off his leather jacket and gently wrapping it around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling tears in his eyes for the first time since he was a little boy, "This is all my fault."

Much to his surprise, she laid her head on his chest as she continued to cry. Her shoulders shook violently with her sobs and it was all Angel could do to not go over and kill Penn before the police arrived. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. She allowed it and clung to him as he cradled her, smoothing his hand over her hair and sending a deadly glare at the unconscious former friend on the sidewalk.

***

//and in the mist our hero stands//

Detective Kate Lockley looked suspiciously over the tall, dark and extremely sexy man who claimed to know the attacker. He claimed to have no real relationship with the victim, Buffy Summers, other than a business relationship, but he loomed over her, watching every person who got near her. He was so protective over her that the other police officers were inclined to think of him as hostile.

"He said he was paid," Angel said, keeping a hand on Buffy's shoulder. She remained silent, wrapped in his leather jacket and feeling more naked with each passing second. Angel kept glancing down at her bloody knees and torn nylons and every time he did, he felt a rare, acutely defined fury rise in his chest. He should have killed that fucker when he had the chance.

"But he said he didn't know who, is that right?" Kate asked.

"That's right," Angel said, nodding.

"Did he say how much he was paid?"

"I knocked him out before he got that far," Angel answered honestly.

"Okay," she said, "Thank you. I appreciate your taking the time to answer our questions. We would like to take Ms. Summers' statement now. You are free to go. I'll have someone take her home."

Angel was frozen, unable to think of how to deal with the situation. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving her there alone and frightened. He looked down at her and she looked back up. Her eyes seemed to plead for him to stay and when he started to remove his hand from her shoulder she reached up and caught it, holding his hand tightly in hers. He lowered himself to one knee next to her chair and looked in her eyes for a moment before asking, "Buffy, I can stay...if you want."

He had to wait for a long time before she managed to whisper hoarsely, "Please don't leave me here alone, Angel."

"Okay, love," he said, touching the unbruised side of her face gently, "I'll stay."

Kate watched as he stood and turned his eyes back to her. The gentleness and love pouring out to Buffy disappeared completely as he looked back up at her. Instead they were now filled with anger and determination.

"I'm staying with her, detective," he said firmly.

"Fine," Kate said, nodding. She initially thought that the mysterious Angel had something to do with the attack, especially since he was once close friends with the rapist, but now she wasn't so sure. He was going to remain near the top of her suspect list, but he was slipping lower as they went along. Kate took a deep breath and continued, "Please have a seat over there while I get her statement alone."

Angel started to step away but Buffy held onto his hand and actually pulled him closer to her, unwilling to let him go. He looked down at her again and squeezed her hand.

"I'm not going to leave you, Buffy," he said quietly, "They think I'll influence your statement if I'm standing here. I'll just be over there, okay?"

Kate raised an eyebrow in surprise. She hadn't expected that reaction and as a cop, coming from a long line of cops, she was rarely surprised. Reluctantly, Buffy released his hand and turned her head to watch him walk away. She watched him until he settled in a chair on the other side of the room and waited.

***

//now what can we say?
have a nice day?
looks like rain today...//

Buffy didn't get to see Angel's paintings of her that evening and it was the furthest thing from her mind as he walked her out to his car at close to four in the morning. She gave him directions to her apartment and sat mutely in the seat, holding onto her seat belt for dear life even though Angel drove overly slow and cautiously. She was glad he was driving slowly because she didn't want to go into that dark quiet apartment and finally be alone. Even the thought of sleeping there by herself made her start to shake again.

He pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex and parked in front of her building. She looked over at him, still trembling, waiting for him to tell her that he was leaving her there, that he was going to go away. He didn't. He turned off the car and walked around to open her door. Extending a hand with a sort of gentlemanly gesture he had never done before, she accepted his hand. He walked her to her door and took her keys from her after she tried several times to steady her hands.

When he opened the door, the first thing they both heard was breathing.

"Someone's here," he growled, stepping in ahead of her. Angel stood still in the darkness for a second, allowing his eyes to adjust. Buffy saw a familiar outline of a body on her couch and opened her mouth to stop Angel but he was already across the room, pulling the bulky weight from the couch.

"What the..."

"Angel!" Buffy shouted, "It's Riley. Stop. It's Riley."

She flipped on the light and looked over cloaked in shame of her violation. Angel had his hand around Riley's surprised throat and didn't bother letting go. Riley pushed him away and stared at his girlfriend for a moment. Was she his girlfriend anymore? He wasn't sure exactly but the condition she was in made him want to scream and cry and attack someone.

"What happened?" he shouted and turned back to Angel, "Did you do this to her? I'll fucking kill you!"

"Stop," Buffy sobbed, unable to stand another moment of violence for the evening, "He didn't do this to me."

"What happened?" Riley asked quietly, crossing the room to her. He reached out to touch her and she flinched, closing her eyes as she stepped away.

"I...can't..." she whispered, cringing.

"She was attacked outside the gallery," Angel said, his voice rumbling with checked anger.

"He saved me," she whispered.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling guilty for keeping his vigil on her couch while he waited for her to come home. He had been convinced that she was cheating on him, if cheating was even the right word for a woman he wasn't sure he was dating anymore. Now he felt the same jealousy twisting into something else.

She didn't answer but the pained look in her eyes answered the question.

"Do you want me to stay tonight?" he asked, wanting so badly to touch her, to pull her into his arms but knowing that he couldn't. Somehow the line had been drawn now and he wasn't sure if it would ever be erased again. A feeling of loss came over him as she shook her head.

"No," she said, "I just need...I need some time, Riley."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, opening the door again for him. Riley looked over at Angel, who didn't look as if he planned on leaving.

"You coming?" he asked with a little more fierceness than he meant. Angel looked over to Buffy, questioning her silently.

"I need him to stay," she answered for him.

"*He's* staying but you want me to leave?"

"Please don't," she said, feeling a new set of sobs rising in her chest. She wasn't even sure why she wanted him to stay and for Riley to leave. It didn't make sense. All she knew was that he was the only one she felt safe with right now. She knew that she was probably asking too much of him To stay with her for awhile longer, but she needed it.

"Call me if you need me," Riley grumbled, giving a hard look to Angel, "And I'll come back."

"Thank you," she said before closing the door behind him.

***

//you realized it's not my fault not a moment too soon//

Angel stood guard as Buffy took a shower. The trust she felt for him was strange, to say the least, but she knew that if nothing else, he would protect her. She dry heaved under the spray and wished her stomach wasn't empty. Not that she would be able to eat. She wouldn't. Right then she wasn't sure how she was still breathing.

As she was getting dressed, she heard Angel pacing in her living room. She still felt dirty and had to resist the urge to get back in the shower and wash again. Instead she dressed slowly, choosing a pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt. It was warm outside but her apartment was freezing. She was sure it was her nerves since the temperature was fine when she left.

She hugged her body as she went into the living room to face her visitor. Now that she had made him stay there, she wasn't sure what to do with him. She did know that she didn't want him to leave. She wasn't sure she could face the rest of the night, even though there wasn't much left of it.

"Here," he said, holding a towel filled with ice in his hand, "Sit down. We have to get the swelling down."

She obeyed, curling up on the couch. He sat down next to her, careful not to touch her. After she had shied away from Riley's touch, he thought it was a good idea to keep his distance. He held the ice lightly against her face and flinched when she hissed in pain from the contact.

"Sorry," he mumbled, holding the ice there for her until she reached up to take it from him.

"'S okay," she croaked out. She felt like crying, but there weren't any tears left. It took a long time for her to look over at him and meet his eyes. She was surprised to see more anguish there than she expected.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, "I mean, I'll stay with you for as long as you need me to, but I can't see why you would want that."

"Why would you say that?" she asked, pulling the ice away from her face.

"This is my fault," he said, "Penn was my friend. He had to have been hired by someone I know, someone trying to get back at me."

"I don't understand," she said, "Why would they attack me to get at you?"

"Because..." he said, searching his mind for the right way to explain it, "Because...dammit."

"Still not understanding, Angel."

"I think I'm in love with you," Angel said, "I know I'm not good enough for someone like you and I've tried to stay away from you but I can't. All my friends know that I've...changed since I've met you."

"Changed how?"

"I've been with a lot of women, Buffy," he said, standing up to look out her sliding glass doors at the predawn sky, "I'm not a very good person."

"People keep telling me that," she said, "But you don't seem so horrible to me."

"You're not looking close enough," he said, turning back to her, "You don't know me."

"I know enough," she said, standing up, "I know you saved me tonight...How have you changed?"

"I haven't seen another woman since I met you. I broke up with the women that I was seeing."

"W-why?"

"Because the only thing I want is you," he said. He waited for her to say something, to have some sort of reaction but he was met with stunned silence. He took a deep breath and looked down at her wounded face, "You can kick me out any time now."

"I don't want to," she whispered.

"What do you want?" he asked, clenching his hands to keep from touching her.

"Hold me until I fall asleep?"

He nodded silently and allowed her to lead him to her bedroom. She laid down on the bed, uncertain of what to do. He slid in beside her and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her narrow waist. Carefully brushing her hair away from her face, he kissed her forehead and listened to her breathing. Just before she fell asleep, he heard her whisper, "It's not your fault."

***

Part Six - "Falling"

**

//anyone perfect must be lying
anything easy has its cost
anyone plain can be lovely
anyone loved can be lost
what if i lost my direction?
what if i lost sense if time?
what if i nursed this infection?
maybe the worst is behind
and it feels just like i'm falling for the first time//

Angel wanted to stay in that warm bed and hold onto Buffy for the rest of the night and into the following day. He wanted to sink into a deep sleep and dream of the future in her arms. But he couldn't close his eyes without seeing Penn ripping her clothes from her body, the tears in her frightened eyes. He heard her screaming his name over and over again in his mind. He was certain that if he remembered anything for the rest of his life, it would be the desperate rattling scream for echoing off the empty street.

He looked down at her, finally asleep. One whole side of her face was bruised in deep purple and blue, a shattering reminder of what had happened. Her lip was split and although she had washed the blood away, he could still see it. It was almost as if it were still on his hands.

After he was certain she was sound asleep, he carefully slipped away and went into her living room. Picking up her cordless phone, he opened the sliding glass doors and went out onto the balcony. He sat on the edge of one of those wicker chairs that he had seen on a dozen other women's verandas and dialed as the sun was rising in front of him.

"Whoever this is better get a fucking watch," the gravely voice said when he answered.

"Gunn, it's Angel."

"This had better be an emergency man," Gunn complained, "I *just* got to bed."

"It's an emergency."

"What's up?"

"Someone tried to rape...my girl. Someone hired him. I need you to find out who," Angel said, letting the words come of his mouth in a stream of something as close to panic as Gunn had ever heard in his friend's voice.

"Okay," Gunn said, slowly, sitting up in bed and wiping his eyes, "first of all, you say 'girl' as if there's only one and from the sound of your voice you aren't smiling."

"There is only one," Angel said, "now. And I'm a far cry from smiling."

"Wow. Need to digest that thought for a second."

"There's no time for that. Remember Penn? He tried to rape her in front of her gallery tonight. He said someone hired him. This isn't a favor. I'm hiring you. I want all of your people on this until it's resolved. I want someone outside of her apartment and someone at her gallery 24/7. I want every fucking person you have at your disposal on this case."

"I have other cases, Angel," Gunn said calmly, "I can tell you're upset and hell, I would be too, but you need to think rationally for a second."

"This is me being rational. I'll pay whatever it costs. Find that bastard and I'll take care of it from there."

"Whoa, man. You need to calm down. You're talking crazy. You can't be thinking about doing what it sounds like you're thinking about doing."

"Find out who is responsible for this," Angel said slowly, enunciating every word.

"Alright, alright. Give me the details," Gunn said, reaching for a pad of paper and pen. Angel filled him in on everything that had happened in overly specific detail, including sounds, smells and goddamn pigments. He had known Angel for a long time. He had even seen him possessive of certain women, but this girl, this Buffy Summers, was something completely different. It was almost as if Angel was actually in love with her.

Angel hung up the phone and dialed again. He listened to the ring and groaned when the answering machine picked up. He listened to Spike's voice saying, "Leave a bloody message or hang up."

"Spike, it's Angel. If you're there, pick up," Angel said and paused for a second, "It's important. I need to talk to you as soon as poss-"

"What do you WANT?" Spike grunted, "Did you get Betty home and forget how to get in her in the sack since you've been a monk for the last coupla months?"

"Buffy," Angel growled, "Her name is Buffy, dammit, and Penn tried to rape her outside the gallery after the show tonight. What do you know about it?"

"What you just told me," Spike answered, "I'm into shagging 'em, not raping 'em, mate. What the bloody hell would Penn be doing raping someone anyway? He's a sadistic bastard, but he never had a problem getting a girl before."

"He said someone hired him," Angel answered.

"Paid rapist? That's new."

"You're not funny," Angel warned, "I need you to ask around. Find out if anyone knows anything."

"Call Gunn. I'm not a detective."

"Already called him and now I'm asking you too. You're going to help me and if I find out you had anything to do with this-"

"Jesus, Peaches," Spike complained, "You can't threaten someone this early in the morning."

"Just ask around, okay?"

"Fine, but you owe me."

"Whatever, William."

"Keep that shit up and I won't be helping you at all."

***

//i've never felt so small
i've never been so dissed as i shiver, dripping//

Buffy woke up alone and her bed never seemed so large. She curled up and stared at the window that she couldn't see out of. She didn't want to get up and face the day. She didn't want to see that Angel had left her. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to find out if he left a note or not. It just seemed hopeless and she felt helpless. It made her angry to feel that way, that someone could make her so afraid and weak, that one man, one stranger could have that much power. If Buffy Summers was ever anything, it was never helpless and weak. Whoever Penn was, whoever hired him, she couldn't let him destroy her peace of mind.

Trying on a slip of determination, she forced herself to get out of bed. She stood on her own two feet and saw the lush green tree outside of her window. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining. It was a depressingly beautiful day. Too beautiful to feel the way she did. The sun seemed to know that as it pressed against her, making her feel hot in the bulky sweat shirt she had put on the night before. She slipped it off and made her way to the kitchen in her sports bra and sweat pants.

She stopped just outside the kitchen door as she saw him standing in front of the stove, breaking an egg into her frying pan. His hair was still wet from the shower he must have taken, sticking up haphazardly in the most adorable way. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but those incredible leather pants.

"Hey," he said when he noticed her standing there. He tried not to stare at her body, reminding himself that the furthest thing from his mind *should* be how delectable she looked in that little top. She crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably, confirming his suspicions. He crossed the room to her, against his better judgement, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Hey," she echoed numbly.

"I borrowed your shower," he said, turning back to the eggs, "I hope you don't mind. I thought I'd make you breakfast."

"It's fine," she answered, "About the shower, I mean. It's sweet of you to make me breakfast but I'm really not hungry."

"You need to eat something. You'll need the energy."

"For what?" she asked, tracing her finger on the counter.

"For your first lesson."

"Lesson?"

"Yeah," he nodded, scrambling the eggs artfully as he spoke, "You're going to learn self defense. I'm going to teach you how to fight and we're not going to stop until you can kick my ass."

"What? Are you joking?" she asked in surprise.

"No," he said, setting the spatula down before facing her and looking into her eyes to let her know just how serious he was, "I want you to be able to protect yourself. No one is *ever* going to hurt you again."

"I don't get you," Buffy said, shuffling away from the kitchen and back into the living room. She curled up on the couch and looked absently out the sliding glass doors, wishing they would just seal her up inside there.

"What's not to get?" he called from the kitchen as he turned off the burner and then followed her out, "I want you to be safe."

"You don't even know me," she said, "Why do you even care?"

"I care," he said, sitting down next to her, "And you're right, I don't know you. But I will, if you let me."

***

//make up your mind and stick it out or start again
you can't imagine what an effort it takes//

"Why didn't you call us?" Willow asked, hiding her shaking hands under Buffy's kitchen table as she looked over her friend's split lip and bruised face.

"The better question here is how do you trust Angel, or whatever his *real* name is, when it was his friend that attacked you?" Xander demanded, just barely keeping himself from pounding his fist on the table in frustration.

"This wasn't his fault," Buffy answered, sternly. If there was anything in this situation that she was sure of, it was Angel's innocence.

"You've known him for what? Ten minutes? It's pretty damn convenient that you get attacked by his friend and he just *happens* to be there to save you and then ends up in your bed!"

"I asked him to stay, Xander," Buffy said, keeping her voice steady, "And this is none of your damn business. Leave Angel out of this."

"Wake up and smell the seduction, Buffy!"

"So," Willow said, clearing her throat and sending a dirty look in Xander's direction, "He's teaching you self defense?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding, "I spent the morning learning how punch correctly, how to make a fist, getting out of holds, that sort of thing. It was interesting, actually. I didn't think it would be that, you know, fun."

"Fun?" Xander asked, a shade too loudly.

"Maybe you should show Xander how to punch correctly," Willow offered with a grin.

***

//so now you're out from under the gun
and it's over and done
so i won't spoil all the fun//

Three weeks passed and Buffy was starting to think that she had imagined the part where Angel said he was falling in love with her. He taught her self defense three nights a week, took her out to dinner a couple of times and hired some people to follow her around, but he never even tried to hold her hand. His protectiveness was as endearing as it was annoying. She thought originally that she was just being paranoid when she felt like she was being watched. Then she started to notice people following her all the time. It took almost two weeks to get the little "Gunn Investigations" tidbit out of him and initially she was pissed as hell that he hadn't bothered to tell her she was being followed. Did he think that she wouldn't notice thug types hanging around all the time?

But it was hard to stay angry with him. He had this soothing quality about him that made her forget within moments what she was supposed to be upset about. She thought it was his eyes. They more than penetrated, they took root, set up camp and started fires. But he kept his distance physically if his gaze didn't. She was getting that itch that she thought Riley must have felt when she refused him. She began to think about him touching her and kissing her. Every time he touched her, she leaned in, waiting for the more that didn't happen.

With the multitude of women she heard about him sleeping with, she couldn't understand what was taking him so long. Maybe he had changed his mind about her after what happened. She shuddered when she thought about that night, naked and bleeding in front of him, sobbing on his shoulder. Every time she looked in the mirror and saw the bruises that were taking an excruciatingly long time to heal, she was reminded of what she was desperately trying to forget.

That particular evening, she was sitting at home, staring at the wall and trying to think of something to do. Xander took Willow out of town for the weekend to a secret destination that he wouldn't even tell her. Anya was out with Spike and Cordelia had somehow hooked up with the bartender at Spike's club. That one was a little confusing, since she usually went for rich, no-necks and that guy was neither wealthy, nor a jock. Still, she saw the attraction. He had a worshipful way about him when he looked at her with those pretty blue eyes. He called her "Princess" which made the snooty Queen C turn into a rubber kneed school girl. It was cute. It was frustrating. Why was everyone else getting smoochies? Everyone seemed to be happy with someone except for her.

Picking up the phone, she dialed Angel's number from memory and listened to the empty ring. He picked up just as the answering clicked on and sounded busy as he said, "Hello?"

"Hi. It's Buffy. Um...am I calling at a bad time?"

"No, of course not," he answered. She had a horrible picture inside her mind of him in bed with some beautiful woman. She could only hope that he was exercising. Maybe he was painting. It was a much more attractive image than the in bed with some other woman one, although he was just as naked in that vision as in the other.

"I was in the shower," he added after a moment of silence.

Even better mental image, she thought as she said, "Oh. I'm sorry. I'll let you go."

"No!" he said, "Hold on one sec while I grab a towel. I'm dripping all over my floor."

Dear God, he was completely naked. She covered the mouthpiece of the phone while she tried to make herself breathe. Mr. Dark, Gorgeous and Overprotective was naked and covered with little droplets of water...

"Kay," he said, picking up the phone again, "Is everything okay?"

"Sure," she said, "I was just wondering, since I never got to see your other paintings of me, that you might want to...but I'm sure you probably have plans since you were showering and it's Friday night, so I can just let you go-"

"Buffy," Angel interrupted and smiled into the phone at her nervous babbling, "I'd love for you to come over and see them. Do you want me to come pick you up?"

Naked? Sure!

"No," Buffy said, grinning, "I have a car. Besides, Gunn or one of his buddies will be following me anyway."

"Uh, right," he said, guiltily, "They have liked all the snacks you've been giving them. You're their favorite assignment."

"I bet."

***

//he already knows he's forgotten all he knew before//

When Angel answered the door, he had to make himself not stare. Buffy was wearing one of those little black camisoles that hugged her chest and left her torso delightfully bare. She wasn't wearing anything under it, he was certain of that. Her jeans were worn and faded, hugging her hips seductively. He hid the fact that he was taking a deep breath to calm himself as he stepped back to let her in.

He had set all of the paintings up around the room, leaning against the furniture and the walls. In fact, he was glad she came right over because he had resorted to moving them around in different positions as if the lighting and location of each canvas would make all the difference. He mulled over hiding a couple that he wasn't sure of but in the end, he decided not to hide anything from her. He leaned against the closed door after letting her in and let her wander around the room to look at them. It was better to stay there, since he was sure he would be opening it again within minutes to let her back out.

Buffy had braced herself for the viewing of the paintings. After seeing his other ones of different women, she thought for certain that she would be nude in some of them. She was shocked to see that she wasn't. She guessed it made sense that he wouldn't know what she looked like underneath her clothes, but she was sure he could imagine it pretty accurately. If he did imagine it, he didn't paint it. They were seductive and surreal, dreamy and beautiful. She always thought herself sort of plain but he made her seem more exotic somehow, more interesting.

"Is this all of them?" she asked, staring at herself over and over again, silhouetted, shaded and abstracted. Some of them were just a hint of her and others were so real she almost expected her image to step off the canvas. There were so many it was almost too much to handle.

"Those are all of paintings," he said, crossing the room to his desk. He pulled out a sketchbook and handed it to her, stilling the tremor in his hands. The moment of truth was taking an unbearably long time. Buffy sat down on the couch and opened the book. The first thing she saw was a sketch of Darla done in charcoal. She was in the center of a bed, nude and inviting.

"Keep going," he said, clearing his throat nervously, "Yours are more towards the middle."

He cursed silently as she flipped each individual page, looking at what he had done before he met her. Some of them were a little more risque than others and he wished he had flipped to the first page with her in it instead of giving her free reign of the drawings. Eons passed before she reached the first one of herself. She turned the pages slowly and he wanted to speed up the process, make it to the finish and get his judgement. The waiting was torment.

When she finally closed the book, he waited for moment while she held the book in her hands, looking around the room again.

"What do you think?"

"This is going to sound conceited," she said quietly, as she stood up from the couch, "But I think they're beautiful. It isn't that they're of me, it's what you see in me, what you've made me into. It's almost like...you see more than there is."

She reached out and touched a reproduction of her face, half of her lost in the shadows, "You make into more than what I am."

"No, I don't," he said. She jumped when she heard him speak. She didn't realize he was standing right behind her until he spoke softly in her ear. She turned and faced him, tilting her head to look up at him.

"These are more full of life than I am," she whispered.

"They're pathetic attempts," he whispered back, "You're much more than this."

He leaned down, inching toward her face, waiting for her to shy away from him. She didn't move away but toward him. He kissed her gently and felt his heart thumping in his chest as she responded to him, parting her lips as the kiss deepened. Pulling her into his arms, he threaded his fingers through her silky hair with one hand and spanned her lower back with the other, relishing in the feel of the bare skin between her shirt and jeans.

***

Part Seven "The Want"

DEDICATION: For Nina. Miss Sweetness and Light, you really made my day today...several times. Thanks for "taking one for the team." *G* This one's for you, my friend.

***

//i'm so done, turn me over cause it feels just like i'm falling
for
the
first time//

Angel's old frame of mind was creeping in as he kissed her. He felt sex flooding his mind as he explored her warm mouth, loving the way she responded to him. Taking each second of self control he never used in the past, he broke the kiss and released her. Her lips were moist and parted as she expelled little puffs of breath. She seemed to be silently asking for another kiss as she kept her arms around him.

He leaned in and kissed her again, promising himself it would be the last. She tasted so sweet and her body fit against his so perfectly that he almost thought he was dreaming it. He thought back on that night with her falling asleep in his arms. He was so concerned about her welfare that he hadn't taken the time to relish in the feel of her. Tonight he had that time and was trying to keep himself from it again.

When he broke the kiss the next time, he entertained the idea of jumping out the window. It seemed like the better alternative than trying to get her to go home. He loved her and yet, he felt as if he shouldn't corrupt her integrity. It seemed wrong for someone like him to be with someone like her but the way she was looking at him, that innocent lust in her pretty hazel eyes was more than he could stand.

"Are you going to be ready for our lesson tomorrow?" he asked, having a bit of difficulty getting the words out.

"Yes," she answered, nodding her head in confusion. Weren't they just kissing? Who gave a rat's ass about the lesson tomorrow?

"Good," he said, nodding and stepping away, hoping she didn't notice the uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants. He sat down on the couch and she sat on the opposite end, slipping off her sandals and pulling her feet up against her chest.

"Why do I feel like you regret kissing me?"

"I don't," he said, "I mean, I loved kissing you, Buffy, I just think that maybe we shouldn't...do that."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I'm just not the kind of guy you should be with."

"So you want me to go out with another guy?"

"NO!" he said, standing up, "I mean, yes. Yes."

"Are you trying to talk yourself into that? I thought you said you were falling in love with me."

"I am," he said, facing the window she now recognized from his painting, "...already in love with you."

She walked boldly over to him. She stood behind him for a second before she wrapped her hands around his waist, resting her cheek on his back. She felt her hands trembling slightly as she held him and she breathed deeply, waiting there in silence for a second.

"Angel," she said quietly, "I love you too. I want to be with you."

She let him go and walked around him, leaning against the window pane as she continued speaking, "I'm not sure why you think you're not good enough for me, but I don't care what you did in the past or who you slept with before. All that matters to me is here and now. It's what you are to me, how you treat me."

"I'm not so sure," he said, shaking his head.

"Do you want to be with me?" she asked sternly.

"Buffy, it's not that-"

"Do you want to be with me, Angel? It's a simple question."

"Yes," he said, meeting her eyes, "Yes, I do."

"Good, now that we have that out of the way," she said, stepping closer, "I think you should kiss me again."

He crushed his mouth against hers, plunging his tongue into her warm mouth. He stepped forward, pressing her against the glass behind her. As she kissed him, she reached down and pulled her shirt up, breaking the kiss to pull it off, baring her chest to his gaze. He paused for a second, licking his lips while his mind raced on the right thing to do. The rarity of these emotions were crowding in with his lust. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off of his shoulders. After a second, she pulled his hands to her chest.

"Please," she whispered, "Don't think about it. Just touch me, Angel."

She squealed in surprise when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, kissing her passionately on the way. He set her on her feet next to his bed. He looked down at her flushed skin, her swollen lips and the way her eyes sparkled with want. He shook his head and groaned in pain as he stepped away. She reached out and grabbed his arm, keeping him there and then slipped off her jeans. Her black lace panties were all the clothing she had left and as she moved to remove them, he stopped her.

"It's too soon," he said.

"I want you," she breathed, her voice husky with desire, "I thought you wanted me."

"I do," he answered, "You have no idea how hard this is for me. I just think we should wait. I don't want to ruin it."

Buffy stepped up, closing the space between them and pressed her nearly naked body against his. She kissed the smooth column of his neck, allowing her hands to roam freely over his chest and back. She felt him weakening as one hand slipped into her hair and the other traced her spine. She sucked his nipples into her mouth, mirroring his previous movements and a shiver of desire rippled through him.

"Buffy," he groaned, "I'm begging you, baby. We have to wait."

"Uh-uh," she said, reaching for the button of his pants, "Don't wanna."

With a growl he knocked her hands away and backed her toward the bed, pushing her back on it. He kissed her hard, pressing her against the bed. Finally, he broke the kiss, gathered her trembling body against him and nestled with her against the pillows, holding her tightly against his chest. She waited for him to move to make love to her, but he didn't. Finally, she turned over in his arms and looked at his face, blanketed with lust and determination.

"Don't you want to make love to me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth, "But I'm not going to."

"Angel..."

"Not tonight, Buffy," he said, kissing her lightly, "Please, just let me wait."

"You're just torturing yourself," Buffy said, pressing her hand against his pounding heart, "You can have me, Angel. I'm not going to disappear."

"I know, love," he said, but he didn't.

***

//it's really amazing//

Angel couldn't believe that Buffy was in his bed and snuggled against his chest sound asleep. Okay, so he hadn't made love to her but that didn't change the fact that she was in his apartment, in his bed, in love with him. He would have been dancing around the room, jumping up and down with joy, if it didn't mean leaving her arms. He smiled down at her, studying her like he never bothered to study any other woman. She was so small and perfect, her leg tossed over his, her hand so small as it rested on his stomach. It was the first time in years he had gone to bed in clothing. He was in boxer shorts, which was far more than he had slept in a long time, except for the night he held her before. In some twisted part of his mind, it felt good. He wasn't her lover yet but it didn't matter, she loved him.

The morning sun was filtering through his windows, flooding the room with heat and light. She shifted in her sleep and he knew that she would wake up any moment. He waited, smiling down at her as she murmured in her sleep, rubbing her face on his chest. Her hand moved over his abdomen as if in half sleep she was trying to remember where she was. She opened her eyes and blinked. A second later, she looked up at him and smiled back at him.

"Morning," she said, her voice full and groggy. She turned her face up for a kiss and he obliged, delighted she wasn't one of those women who had to run to the bathroom to brush her teeth first. He knew it was sad, but everything she did made him love her more.

"Morning," he said, as the kiss ended, rubbing her back gently, "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in weeks actually," she said, sitting up. She glanced at the clock on his bedside table and groaned, "I have to get to the gallery. I'm meeting this morning. Can I borrow your shower?"

"Sure," he said, nodding toward the bathroom, "There are clean towels in the closet."

"Thanks," she said, kissing him again before getting up and heading toward the bathroom. He watched her perfect, golden body as she walked, swaying her hips generously. At the door, she stopped and turned around, "Wanna come?"

"Don't tempt me," he grumbled, sitting up in bed.

"That's exactly what I was trying to do," she said, winking at him before disappearing into the room. He dropped his head in his hands and reminded himself that it was too soon to have sex. Too soon. He thought about their conversation the night before, how he had insisted that they wait and she disagreed. He was trapped in a world of confusion. *He* was telling a woman they should wait? If only Spike could hear him now.

He listened to the running water in the bathroom, imagining her little body under the spray, water streaming over her breasts, tracing each perfect rib, over her abdomen and down...at this rate, he was going to have to write it down and keep it in his pocket like a flash card. *It's too soon to sleep with her, Angel.*

***

//before all the fireworks exploded
our conversations were so loaded
innuendo flying//

There were several rounds of bets going on at Gunn Investigations lately. Some of the staff, actually ALL of the staff and some people outside it, were betting on how long it would take Angel to sleep with Buffy. Some of his subcontractors, who knew Angel well, had lost the first round of bets on that one. Now that they were edging toward the first month, money was being exchanged almost every day. No one could believe Angel hadn't gotten her into bed yet. The idea of Angel waiting one night without nailing a beautiful girl was inconceivable, but a month? Are you fucking crazy?

The second round of bets were the ones that Gunn found hilarious. Everyone was dying to know how long it would take Angel to beat the shit out of some guy who hit on his girl. All the men who watched Buffy on a regular basis, both at her apartment and at the gallery, had a bit of a crush on the sweet but bitingly sarcastic blonde girl. Angel had warned several of them in a not so nice tone that if they touched her, he would murder them in cold blood. The scary part was they really didn't think he was kidding.

"Hey people! You will not bloody *believe* the latest," Spike said, laughing so hard that tears were coming to his eyes as he strolled into Gunn Investigations that evening. Spike had been a integral source of knowledge for their rounds of bets since he was sleeping with Buffy's employee, Anya, who did not think it was a big deal to blurt out everything that was going on.

"Better hurry up and leak it," Gunn said, glancing up half heartedly from the file in front of him. The grim pictures in the file kept him from being as interested as usual in Angel's sex life. LA was becoming more dangerous and violent, at least he thought it was. Either that or he was Becoming known for taking on the more grisly cases. Why couldn't he look for a lost kitten or something? This shit was sick, "They're going to meet here in for a sparring session in a little while."

"What's up?" Tommy asked. He was one of Gunn's guys who currently had a lot of money riding on the couple. He stepped forward with interest as Spike sank down to sit on the steps of the Hotel Hyperion, clutching his gut with laughter.

"Buffy...oh God, this is so great," Spike sputtered, "Buffy..."

"Spit it out!" Damon, a seven foot giant of an employee yelled as he stepped closer as well.

"Buffy wants to sleep with Angel, but *he* wants to wait!" Spike said, collapsing into a fresh spout of guffaws. This was terrific. He couldn't even grasp the idea of his friend requesting that they "take it slow." What a bloody riot! The funniest part of it all was that Spike had an inkling since Angel first spotted the girl that this was going to be different and he had hedged his bets accordingly. These morons were going to make him rich before Angel could get a piece of her sweet ass.

"What?" Tommy screamed. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Angel was his goddamn hero. He screwed every beautiful woman in LA and some outside of LA. Shit, half the women he had dated in the past couple of years had already slept with the artist. Now he was going to lose a bundle of his next paycheck cause Angel suddenly got a heart and conscience! It wasn't right.

***

Part Eight "Beating The Odds"

***

//you walked into the room and the whole place stopped to notice//

Every time Angel walked into Gunn Investigations lately, he felt like he was under a microscope. All of the guys were like cats staring into a fish bowl and he was a floundering goldfish trying to figure out what all the staring was about. He arrived twenty minutes early for his meeting with Buffy and found the guys crowding around Spike who was giddy as hell over something. A hush fell over the room and forced hisses for silence erupted as Angel passed by.

He found Gunn buried in a case file, not paying attention to the ruckus, but Angel knew that the boss had to know what was going on. He leaned against the desk, his back to his friend so he could size up the crew and after a few moments the realization hit him.

"They're betting, aren't they?" Angel asked with a groan. Locker room talk was expected. He knew rumors would be flying about his newfound celibacy but he hated the idea of them betting on Buffy like that.

"Yep," Gunn said, flipping through glossy photos of recent carnage.

"You playing too?" Angel asked, sinking into the chair on the other side of the desk.

"Got $50 bucks on you, studly."

"Jesus," Angel grimaced, "You're a bunch of assholes."

"Oh come on, man," Gunn said, setting the file aside. It was nice to have a distraction because his usually steel stomach was doing flip flops, "You know damn well that if it wasn't you, you'd be in on the bet."

"But..." Angel protested, "It's Buffy. She's not just any ordinary girl. This is different..."

"Which is why money is passed around here like a crack house lately," Gunn grinned, "Relax. Everyone's being quiet when your wonderful ball of sunshine is around."

"If she finds out about this," Angel warned, "I can't believe you are cheapening my feelings for her by making ringside bets on our relationship."

"What you just said," Gunn said, standing up as Buffy walked through the door, "Is why they're doing it. You've gone completely crazy over this girl."

"Yeah," Angel said, smiling as he watched her hug and greet the men congregated around the room. From the moment she walked through the door, the men's room quality of the room died and it scene transformed into an adore Buffy session. They were a crowd of teddy bears, anxious to be next in line to soak in her warmth. Spike was the only one who didn't participate. He sat back and eyed her closely, leering at her curvy body in his normal manner. Unlike the rest of the men there, he didn't think Buffy was anything more than another beautiful woman. He couldn't wait until Angel fucked this up. He was going to be there to catch her when he broke her. He planned to screw her sorrow away, again and again.

Angel tried not be jealous as she chatted with them, kissing their Cheeks and allowing herself to be pulled into overly generous embraces. After a minute or two, he moved around to the counter leaned against it, watching her and waiting for her to notice his presence. She finally broke away from the barrage of men and found her way into his arms. She seemed oblivious to their stares as she greeted him warmly, tilting her head up for a kiss. He obliged greedily, forgetting momentarily that they had an audience as he wrapped his arms around her petite body and met her lips.

"Hi baby," he said, kissing her one last time before letting her go just enough so she could look up at him but remain in his arms.

"Hi," she said, "How was your day?"

"Not bad," he said, "I think I might have to go to New York in a couple of weeks for an art expedition. There was a guy from a gallery there visiting during my first show. He's interested in keeping some of my pieces at his place but he wants me to go up there first."

"Wow," she said, grinning, "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks," he said, "How was your day?"

"Well, the appointment this morning went well," she said, "and the rest of the day was okay, I guess. But-" she said, turning around and pressing her back against Angel's chest, her ass resting snugly against his groin in the most tantalizing way. She faced the guys as she spoke, addressing them rather than Angel, "Anya told me about the Buffy's sex life pool that's been going on here. I'm trying to decide how upset I am about that."

The guys stopped in shock, hovering between fight and flight. They were trapped between frustration and guilt. Buffy was not supposed to find out about it. Angry eyes turned on Spike, who sat in the corner, grinning again.

"What?" Spike said, "It's not like any of you are innocent here. Besides, you all are missing the fun in this situation."

"I just found out about it, love," Angel said, in a voice too low for the rest to hear. Just knowing about it for ten minutes was enough for him to feel guilty and they were his friends after all.

"I know, honey," she said, rubbing the arm wrapped around her waist, "I'm not mad...at you."

Buffy kissed his cheek before sauntering to the bathroom with her sports bag, "I'm going to change clothes. Maybe you guys can all bet on how long it'll take me!"

***

//you try to match wits
you try to hold me but i bust through
gonna make a break and take a fake//

Bet or no bet, Buffy Summers was determined to Angel into her bed or his, but with sex this time. He explained the whole slowing down and taking it slow theory but she didn't want that. She realized that sex meant something different to him than it did to her. She understood that he had been with so many women that he thought sex would somehow make their love less if they hurried. Yep, she got all that, but she wanted him to make love to her. She tried to explain the difference between making love and having sex and he seemed to get it but wouldn't budge. He wanted to wait and she was teetering on the edge of full blown sexual frustration.

She shivered as she undressed, remembering his hands on her body, his hot mouth on her skin. She wasn't sure how much this bet thing was going to push him toward her or away. She could only hope it was toward, as in closer, much, much closer. First things first, she thought as she pulled her hair up and looked in the mirror. Her weapon was in place and it had nothing to do with sparring. She had chosen a skimpy sports bra and little shorts to wear for their workout. You know, cause it was important to be in clothes that didn't hinder you...from showing your boyfriend as much skin as possible.

"I thought you were putting on clothes," Angel gulped, suddenly feeling the need for a drink.

"What?" she asked, looking down in feigned confusion, "Do I look bad?"

"No," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the basement door where Gunn had an impressive gym area for his employees, "Bad is not the word I'd choose."

"What word would you choose?" she asked playfully as he shut the door behind them and thought about locking it. Unfortunately there was no lock to keep the guys out. He briefly thought about finding a chair to prop against the door to keep those assholes from the sudden need to work out he was sure they were having. He knew within minutes they all would be down there pretending to get in shape just so they could see her cavort around in that minuscule outfit. It was obscene and he wished for a window. There wasn't enough air down there.

"Naked," he choked, eyeing her body without shame.

"Angel," she said, waving off his comment, "Naked is when you don't have clothes on."

"You don't," he said, shucking his shirt and standing before her in black sweat pants. His muscular chest rippled before her as he made his way to the sparring area. She had to wonder if he was trying to help the situation or not when he looked so gorgeous there, bare chested and jealous. She laughed at his comments and they playfully moved around on the large blue mat on the floor for a few moments, dodging small kicks and swings, shifting into focus.

Angel had been impressed from the first lesson on her ability to learn so quickly. Her memory for intricate steps, punches, kicks and holds was fascinating. It took her half the time it had taken him to learn and for such a small person, there was a lot of power behind her movements. She knew her center of gravity and was able to focus all her strength into what she was attacking. In fact, there were a couple of times that he had to gasp in pain as she struck him.

Completely into each other, neither noticed about half the guys, including Spike and Gunn, making their way into the workout area. They washed with unabashed stares as she dodged his swings, using her smaller size to her advantage as she shifted out the way. Surprising Angel and the rest of the room, her body twisted into flight as her small leg flew up and contacted with his jaw, sending him to the mat, fast and hard.

"GOD *Damn!*" Gunn said as Angel's bulky frame crashed to the floor. Buffy rushed over and knelt at his side as he sat up and shook off the daze.

"I'm sorry!" Buffy said, rubbing his hand which was currently cupping the footprint on his face, "I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't think...Oh God, Angel, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling broadly as he pulled himself back to his feet.

"What? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Because Buffy," he said, "You took me down and hard, baby. I'm glad you can do that. I'm not sure where that came from, but I'm glad. Makes me feel like you're safer."

"I think she should spar with someone else," Gunn said, stepping forward. Angel gave him a deadly glare as he stepped onto the mat in challenge of the pretty blonde, "Don't look at me like that, Angel. If she only fights with you then she won't be used to other techniques and different movements, you know that."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Angel said, shaking his head. What if something happened? Could he trust his friend to not hurt the woman he loved? He knew he could but still...

"Don't worry, Angel," Buffy said, placing a small hand on his chest and gently pushing him off of the mat, "I won't hurt your friend."

"Feisty," Gunn said with a grin, "I like that in a woman."

"Gunn," Angel growled from the sidelines in warning.

"Don't worry," Gunn said, circling her and moving into position, "I promise I'll be careful."

"If you hurt her..." Angel said, evenly and seriously.

"Angel!" Buffy admonished, stopping to turn and look at him. When she did, Gunn rushed forward, charging her. Angel's eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to warn her, but she heard him coming. She turned and sidestepped, parrying his blow with the expertise of a woman who had studied martial arts for years, not weeks. Gunn shifted back, recovering quickly and attacked again, not giving her much chance to gloat over the success of the move. The more she succeeded, the more he added strength and speed to his actions, seeing her as a real opponent.

Angel tensed on the sidelines, waiting for a moment when he would need to step in. Buffy swung and missed, countering with a kick that was blocked. Gunn grasped for the leg but she snapped back as Angel taught her, too quick for him. Turning, she moved under his swing and ducked, leaving a hard jab in his side, which surprised him and the onlookers. The girl was good.

Gunn turned and swung, expecting her not to be there, since every other time she wasn't. This time she was and his fist met her solar plexus, sending her flying back on the mat, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of her. Gunn dropped to his knees beside her as Angel roared, hurrying in from the sidelines. He punched his friend hard in the mouth forcing him on his back on the mat not far from where Buffy was trying to sit up.

"I'm fine," she gasped, "It wasn't his fault, I just lost my footing for a second."

"I'm sorry," Gunn said, "I wasn't trying to hurt her. Damn man, I think you almost broke my jaw."

"You deserved it," Angel said.

"You okay, Buff?" Gunn asked, looking over the girl who had suddenly turned pale.

"Yeah," she moaned, "But I think I'm done for the day."

***

//cause then you'll know the vertigo is gonna grow
'cause it's so dangerous you'll have to sign a waiver//

"Are you sure you're okay?" Angel asked for the thousandth time as he walked her out to her car. "Course," she said, rubbing her chest and wincing slightly, "Think I'm gonna have a bruise though."

"Gunn's gonna have couple more," Angel said. She reached up and touched his face, looking into his eyes as she shook her head 'no.'

"Don't," she said, "He's your friend and he wasn't trying to hurt me. You know that. Just calm down."

"Are you going to bed?" he asked, leaning against her car.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said as she leaned in through the window and dug through her bag. Producing a shiny new silver key, she handed it to him, "Here."

"What's this?"

"It's a key to my apartment," she said with a smile, "I thought after you go have drinks with the guys you might want to stop by."

"If I don't drink too much I might. Thanks," he said, slipping the key onto his ring and then rubbing it between his fingers. He couldn't believe she had just given him a key to her apartment. He had never given anyone a key to his apartment. Well, no one except for Darla, but that was a long, long time ago. Seemed like that was another lifetime.

Angel watched, still smiling, as she pulled from the curb. He stood there as she drove off, seeing that Tommy was professionally discreet as he followed her, even though she was well aware she was being followed. When she reached the stoplight ahead, he furrowed his brow as she didn't stop at the stoplight. She rolled through without slowing down and he was already running toward the intersection as another car struck hers. Even over the sound of twisting metal and breaking glass, he could hear her screaming.

Go to Part Nine