)()()()(
Upper East Side, Manhatten, NYC 2003.
"Buffy, I can't. It's been waay too long." Willow protested, sitting
in
front of her dresser combing out her now mid back length red hair.
Easing herself down onto the bed, the retired Slayer scoffed at her
best
friend's words. "What, like a year? Two maybe? That's not a horribly
long
time, Wills. You know, you deserve some happiness too, and I'm not
going to
sit here and let this go by like....like....I don't know. But you deserve
it. Like me and Giles." Smiling, the blond patted her five months pregnant
belly.
Willow grinned at the physical evidence of Buffy and Giles' immense
affection for one another, but her and Angel was a different matter
entirely. For one, it was a school girl crush on the older, devastatingly
handsome man. Except she was almost 25 and still head over heels in
love
with him. For two, he was her best friend's!
"Willow, stop, darling. I can see you've got the 'I'm whipping myself
expression on that beautiful face of yours. Stop it." The former Slayer
giggled, showing her age.
"But, Buffy..."
Useless her protests were, really. "No buts, Will. You're putting that
message on the machine. And I'm gonna sit here and watch you do it,
too."
Buffy leaned back and gave Willow the look that so many times had made
her
husband back down. And it worked.
*******
Somewhere between L.A. and NYC, 2 am same night.
Angel leaned back into the first class seat of the Boeing 747 that was
carrying him to New York on, at least as far as everyone else knew,
business. And he was. It was just...slightly more personal than he'd
let on,
is all.
He opened his cell phone and dialed the number again. It had been off
the
hook most of the flight, and he wanted to make sure it actually WAS
her
number before he went pounding on her door, if he even had the guts
to do
that.
Christ, here he was, traipsing all the way across the country for some
girl
that he didn't even know if she liked him back! He thudded his head
against
the seat in frustration and a steward popped up immediately.
"Can I get you something, Mr. Rosenberg?" Angel grimaced at the irony
in
that statement. "A double scotch. Make it quick." He felt bad for snapping,
so when the boy came back he slipped a bill into his hand. The kid
smiled
broadly and scraped like Angel was royalty. Sheesh, mustave given him
a
fifty by accident.
Swallowing the harsh liquor, Angel hit redial on the phone and held
it up to
his ear. Willow had been gone a year, said she needed to clear her
mind, and
he'd been tracking her ever since. The click of the machine coming
on
startled him, and he listened to the message.
"If you're calling about the house, I sold it.
If this is about Tuesday, Frank, I'm on it.
If it's anyone else, you know what to do...
And P.S., if this is Angel, I still love you."
The phone dropped to the seat beside him with a clatter. The vampire's
jaw
dropped open in undeniable shock, and he barely noticed the steward
calling
his name.
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