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F E A T U R E D F I C O F T H E M O M E N T
INDEX
BRE'S ARCHIVE
AUTHOR'S ARCHIVE
INTERACTIVE
AUTHOR
SITE
 M A I D T O L O V E S E R I E S B Y B R E P A R T O N E Time passed. Buffy’s longing gaze lingered on Angel Stevers longer with each day that came and went. Whenever she delivered something to him, or got him a cup of coffee, or helped him clean his office, she felt like she was slowly getting closer to actually talking to him, initiating conversation with him. But she never did. Her timid nature got the best of her, as she found out one particularly unpleasant afternoon as she sat at a small lunch with her friend Alexander Harris, who served as the assistant cook of the mansion. It was Buffy’s laughter that echoed in the kitchen as Darla Stevers stormed up to the table, her designer dress swirling around her legs and her heels clicking on the hard tiled floor as she zeroed in on the pair, her eyes lighting on the small blonde at the table. “Buffy,” she snapped as she stopped before the round table. Xander looked up in surprise and immediately blushed when Darla’s gaze turned to him for a split second before returning to Buffy, who immediately stood up. “Where have you been?” Darla hissed. Grabbing Buffy’s elbow roughly, she pulled her away from her lunch with Xander, knocking her wood chair to the floor as she pulled Buffy with her. “I specifically remember telling you that we would have guests at two o’clock and where were you?” Buffy allowed herself to be dragged out of the kitchen and up the long flight of stairs as Darla talked to her. “You were sitting in the kitchen with that moron talking about God knows what!” Buffy winced at the pressure on her arm and bit her lip to keep from talking, knowing that it would only go on to piss her off more. She felt Darla’s nails digging in her soft skin and she bit harder, knowing she would be bruised or worse that she might be bleeding. “I swear I don’t even know why I fucking keep you anymore!” Darla hissed and stopped as they reached the top floor where Angel was exiting from their bedroom. “Do you not fucking remember me telling you that we would have guests?” “Darla, come on,” Angel said in a calming voice as he hurried over to the two women. Before he could reach them, Darla threw Buffy to the floor in her anger. “Darla!” “Go to hell, Angel,” Darla spat turning her attention back to her maid, who was lying on the floor cradling her elbow and looking down in her lap. “Well?” Buffy shook her head. It was the truth. Her boss had failed to mention that they would be having any kind of guests the next day and so Buffy had taken her lunch hour as she usually did, not knowing that she was needed elsewhere. She felt angry with Darla for blaming her and angry with herself for not doing anything to defend herself. “Darla, Jesus Christ, look at what you’re doing!” Angel snarled at his wife, gripping her elbow and attempting to pull her away from the blonde on the floor. “Let me go!” Darla screeched, turning around and slapping his chest. Angel immediately released her and met her heated gaze. “Why are you defending her?” “Darla, just come with me and leave Buffy alone.” Tense silence followed and Buffy refused to look up. She could practically feel Darla’s mind turning and coming to her own conclusions. She closed her eyes as she blew up. “Are you sleeping with her?” Darla hissed, her eyes narrowing. Angel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” Angel sputtered. “Am I sleeping with her? What the fuck!” “You are!” Darla yelled and turned around, glaring at the small blonde. Before Angel could step in and stop her, she hurled herself at the small blonde on the floor. Buffy looked up just in time to see her and brought her arms up to protect her face. Darla shrieked in rage and slapped Buffy who flailed her arms in an attempt to protect herself from the mad woman on top of her. Darla brought her hand back once more to slap her but Angel grabbed her. “Fuck... Darla!” Angel yelled as Darla fought against his grip as he hauled her down the hall towards their bedroom. “No... you bitch! I told you not to fucking touch him... you fucking whore!...” Angel slammed the door on her screams of outrage and Buffy sat up slowly in shock and stared at the door. As if in a daze, she reached up to touch her sore cheek and winced slightly when she did, never taking her eyes off the door. From behind the large wood doors she could hear muffled yells and something of glass break. Standing on shaky legs, Buffy breathed heavily and moved to go downstairs when she heard Darla shriek and what she thought was something hard hitting flesh. She heard Angel curse loudly before all fell silent. Buffy didn’t move, her foot raised to go downstairs, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the door. As ten minutes passed and no more sound came from the bedroom, Buffy breathed in shallowly and continued down the stairs.
Buffy couldn’t sleep. After going to downstairs she had feigned sickness to Xander and immediately went to her room where she had laid down in bed completely clothed in her outfit. She didn’t moved for four hours until she felt a cramp in her leg. Only then did she get up to change into something more comfortable. Once again feeling the heat in her bedroom, she stripped off her shirt and pants and laid down on the cool sheets, ignoring the throbbing on her cheek. That had been three hours ago and she had yet to even close her eyes and attempt to sleep. It was pitch dark outside and she knew it had to be late. Staring at the empty wall beside the window, Buffy couldn’t stop thinking about what tomorrow would be like. She was surely fired. Darla wouldn’t keep her around any longer, especially after accusing her of sleeping with her husband. How could she think that? She could barely talk to the man of the house, let alone sleep with him. Buffy knew that Darla was a jealous woman, but to think that she would accuse her, blah Buffy Summers, of sleeping with the god that was Angel Stevers was absurd. And yet... exciting at the same time. What would she had done in that situation if she had been sleeping with Mr. Stevers? Would she have fought back? Finally, Buffy closed her eyes. The pain from her cheek had subsided more than two hours ago and she felt true exhaustion rolling around inside her. Her eyes hurt from doing nothing but staring for so long and she longed for the peaceful escape that was sleep. But she would never get it.
Buffy had been asleep for only ten minutes when a sound from the front door caused her to wake once more. She opened her eyes and blinked a couple of times as she lay motionless, waiting for more sound to alert her to whatever was happening. When nothing came, Buffy turned over and was about to sit up when she saw Darla Stevers hovering above her bed, a half-empty bottle of liquor in her left hand and a small handgun in her right. Buffy froze and felt icy shivers run down her spine. “You bitch,” Darla slurred, her eyes glassy and wild. She was unsteady on her feet as Darla pointed the gun at her. “Didn’t I tell you not to fucking touch him?” Buffy couldn’t speak. She felt fear exploding from her chest as the barrel of the gun was put in her face. A tear slipped from her eye and she gasped. “Answer me, you little slut,” Darla hissed, her voice surprisingly clear. “Didn’t I tell you?” “I-I d-didn’t touch him, Mrs. S-Stevers,” Buffy stuttered, staring at the gun in her hand. “Bullshit,” Darla spat, stepping away unsteadily and waving her arms around. “Don’t I take care of you?” she asked accusingly. Buffy’s only response was to nod when Darla prodded her with the gun in her face. “Yeah, that’s right...” Darla said. “I took you in and you go on to fuck my husband?!” “M-Mrs. Stevers-“ “Shut up!” Darla shrieked. “Just... shut up! Don’t you fucking lie to me!” “Please...” Buffy whispered. “Please don’t...” Darla made no response except to drop her arm, the gun hanging from her fingers. She began breathing heavy before growling and throwing the heavy bottle of liquor towards Buffy’s head. She narrowly missed it as she ducked and scrambled against the headboard as the bottle burst open and the dark liquid coated the wall heavily. Darla slowly trudged from the room. The moment Darla left the room, Buffy began breathing heavily before bursting into tears. And then she heard the gunshot.
Angel sighed as he finally got back home. Dropping his keys on the long table in the hallway, he shrugged off his jacket and threw it next to his keys. Exhaustion like no other plagued him and all he wanted was to sleep forever. Toeing off his shoes and tossing his socks with them, he walked down the hall. After supposedly leaving Buffy’s room, Darla had walked into the adjoining guestroom, slitting her wrists and shooting her reflection. The gunshot had been heard throughout the entire house and Angel had rushed downstairs to find Buffy slamming her hand on the door, a sheet wrapped around her half naked body, tears flowing from her eyes as she sobbed unintelligible words. Angel had pushed her out of the way and slammed his shoulder into the door until it gaze away and found Darla sitting in her own blood, her wrists completely thrashed from a knife and glass shards surrounding her dying form. Buffy had screamed and ran back into her room while Angel called 911 and waited for the ambulance. It had taken them exactly four minutes and twenty one seconds to finally reach the mansion and they had whisked her away. Angel had followed in his car. Rubbing his closed eyes, Angel stopped in the doorway to the living room at the sight before him. Buffy was laying on the couch in her robe, her eyes closed as if she were asleep. A mere moment later she opened her eyes and he knew that she hadn’t been really sleeping. “Hey,” Angel said gruffly and entered, sitting down next to her. Buffy sat up next to him, looking down at her entwined hands. “Hi,” she mumbled in a rough voice. Several moments passed where neither spoke before she finally looked up at him. “Is she going to be okay?” Angel sighed and pushed his hand through his dark hair. “Yeah,” he sighed, “She’ll be fine.” “I'm so sorry,” Buffy said in a rush. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t-“ “Buffy, this is not your fault,” Angel snapped, sitting up straighter. He looked at her like she had grown two heads. “How in the world could this be your fault?” “I don’t know...” Buffy mumbled softly, afraid to talk. Neither spoke once again until Angel groaned. She looked over and saw him slouched against the cushions, his head thrown back. “I just don’t... understand,” he said hoarsely. “What... I mean, how could she have thought that?” Buffy merely shrugged. “You’ve been here for... what, five years?... and in that entire time she never thought twice about me being unfaithful... until these last couple of days... I don’t get it.” It was then that Buffy noticed the long scrape on his cheek and the bruise on his other cheekbone, both obviously from his wife. Her heart when out to him. “I am sorry.” Angel opened his eyes and focused on her. “I just kind of hoped that she would get over it, you know?” Buffy nodded despite the fact that she had no idea what he was talking about. She didn’t realize that this was the most she had ever talked to him. “I wanted her to... be happy and comfortable and instead she... goddamn her,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes once more. Buffy watched as he struggled against something and she hesitantly reached out to touch him. Her fingers softly touched his arm and she laid a gentle hand on it. He covered hers with his and opened his eyes to look at her. Despite his grief and what he had been forced to endure for the last couple of hours, he found her amazingly beautiful, her hair unkempt on top of her thin robe. Her eyes were an amazing shade of green and caring and he feltmore comforted than he had in a while as he squeezed her hand softly. Buffy’s eyes immediately darted to their hands where they rested on his arm before quickly darting back to his dark eyes. He was staring at her and despite her best efforts she returned his heated gaze, her breathing hitching as she fought for control over the sudden roar of emotion that arched through her as they touched. Rubbing his thumb over her fingers, Angel licked his lips and watched as she visibly fought against something within herself. He literally saw her heart beat quickening and her chest begin heaving slightly with her shallow breaths. She had never looked more beautiful then. “Buffy,” he murmured, leaning towards her. Buffy was in a daze. She watched as he moved closer, watched as his tongue wet his lips as if preparing to kiss her. The roar Buffy heard in her ears was deafening and she blinked owlishly at him. Then in the blink of an eye, his lips were on hers, pressing against hers in a most delicious way. They were warm and soft and she moaned softly against them as he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, his blatant invitation echoing in Buffy’s mind. She opened her mouth for him and brought her arms up to surround his neck as he kissed her with alacrity, his arms winding around her waist as he pushed her back into the cushions of the couch. Nothing seemed wrong with the situation until Buffy ran her hand over his cheekbone, disturbing the raw bruise he had from Darla’s blow. He pulled back and hissed. Buffy’s eyes widened and she pushed him off her gently. They both sat up. “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Buffy whispered nervously, fighting the urge to wipe her mouth. It seemed so final and she knew he would take it like she didn’t like being kissed by him. Angel barely had a chance to nod before she bolted from the couch and ran downstairs to her room. She couldn’t think and all he could do was watch as she left.
Buffy watched as her vision blurred as she opened the door to her room and slammed it shut behind her. How could she do such a thing? How could she be so stupid? Breathing in a shaky breath, Buffy rubbed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t do this... not right now when the lady of the house was sitting in a hospital room somewhere with bandages wrapped around her wrists from the cuts she had made. She couldn’t do it. The guilt was enough to make her want to slit her own wrists. The loud smell of alcohol burned in her nose and she realized that she had yet to clean up the liquor that Darla had thrown at her head. Swallowing, Buffy nodded to herself as she moved to her bathroom, fetching some of the meager cleaning supplies she always kept there. Buffy didn’t stop scrubbing at the room until all she could smell was the nauseating smell of the chemicals used in the cleaning supplies. Sighing, she realized that she had done most of her work in the dark and she frowned, offhandedly thinking that that couldn’t possibly be good for one’s eyes. Putting away the bottle of cleaner and throwing away the large sponge, Buffy stared at herself in the mirror. She looked haggard. There were dark circles under her eyes from her restless nights filled with sweaty dreams and she could tell that the exhaustion in her figure had most to do with the emotional roller coaster she had been subjected to that night. Sighing, she shrugged out of her robe, hanging it neatly on the hook on the back of the bathroom door before discarding the rest of her clothes. She turned on the shower as hot as she could stand and laid under the water until it turned cold. Going through her nightly routine based entirely on habit, she finally collapsed into bed dressed in boxers and a small t-shirt. She immediately fell asleep within minutes.
The soft knocking on the door sounded surprisingly loud in Buffy’s head as she slowly sat up on her elbows, looking around the room in search of the annoying noise. She had been in a deep sleep and felt a little surprised and annoyed that the sound had so obviously awoken her. Glancing at her nightstand to discern the time, she was disappointed to find that she had only been asleep for what seemed an hour as the bright green numbers 4:46 stared at her. Groaning, she rolled over and stood, yawning. The room was still pitch black and she had more than a little trouble finding the door. Wrenching the door open, Buffy found herself face to face with none other than Angel Stevers. Although she wasn’t sure whom she had expected to find on the other side, she honestly didn’t expect to see his tanned face looking down at her. Swallowing thickly, Buffy crossed her arms around her middle and squinted against the bright light he had turned on in the hallway. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Stevers?” she asked in what she hoped came off in a respectful and professional voice. Angel had no idea what he was doing down there. He had no idea how he had known which room was Buffy’s. He’d never been very interested in the life she led outside of the mansion and had always let Darla take care of the mundane things. But now here he stood, staring down at what he thought was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He couldn’t believe he was thinking it, let alone accepting it. He had to remember that his wife was in a hospital while he was down here, talking to the woman who had caused her breakdown, talking to her in hopes that he could have more than a talk. Her hair was tousled a great deal from moving around in her sheets and she was wearing a small t-shirt that showed more than a glimpse of her midriff where low boxers hung on her hips. “Mr. Stevers?” Buffy asked once more when all she got as a reply was his stare. “Are you ok-“ “I thought I asked you to call me Angel,” he said in a low voice, interrupting her without a second thought. Buffy’s mind instantly went back to the moment in time he supposedly talked about and she blushed as she remembered what his wife had told her directly afterwards. “What are you doing down here, Mr. Stevers?” Buffy asked, ignoring his throaty request and instead chose to inquire about his motives. “Is something wrong?” “No... no, nothing’s wrong,” Angel said, his eyes now openly perusing as he ignored her blatant ignorance. He watched as she visibly squirmed under his gaze and he smirked. Buffy’s brow furrowed. What had happened to the man who had merely an hour before looked like his heart had been crushed and then had kissed her in what she could only call desperation? Where was he? Certainly not in this man who stood here, his intentions more than clear. Buffy blushed. “Mr. Stevers-“ “Angel,” came his reply before stepping over her threshold and kissing her. It wasn’t soft and gentle like his first one, but demanding with a twinge of desperation. Buffy froze before melting into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her flush up against him. She moaned as he forced his tongue into her mouth and ran it along hers, along her teeth, exploring her. She returned the favor gladly as he pushed them back into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, not bothering with the little lock on the door. He doubted that anyone would be in their right mind to barge in in the first place, let alone when they would hear what was going on inside. Then the alarms started in the back of Buffy’s mind. This wasn’t right. Hadn’t she already said this to herself and him? This couldn’t happen, especially after the night’s events. She pulled away from his lips as he backed her against the wall, his hand cradling the back of her head as the other gripped her waist, keeping her against him. She could feel his obvious arousal and she ignored the heat that roared in her body. “W-we can’t d-do this,” Buffy whispered, attempting in vain to pull away from his intemperate lips. “Shh,” he whispered evasively into her ear and Buffy felt a crack in her resolve as shivers encased her body. Then she remembered the alarms. “Mr. St-“ “Please, Buffy,” Angel suddenly whispered against her ear. She felt her heart shatter along with her resolve at the broken sound in his voice. “Please, don’t push me away... I need this... please...” Buffy felt him press his cheek against hers as he spoke and she knew that she would do whatever she could to help take his pain away, her morals be damned. It was a hesitant moment later where neither moved when she nodded against him quickly. She felt rather than heard his sigh and surrendered her body to his as he once again kissed her. She could tell that he was an experienced man by the way he kissed her, but she also felt the unsubtle desperation playing beneath. She wondered if she would seriously regret this in the morning, but didn’t care in that moment. She wondered vividly what it would it would be like to finally be with the man she had dreamed about for so long. To feel his hard length between her legs like she had fantasized. She knew she wouldn’t have to imagine for very long.
l be kind, rewind l back to top l
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