TITLE: The Meeting
AUTHOR: Theresa
DISCLAIMER: These characters are Joss Whedon's, not mine, but
they should be, yadda yadda.
RATING: General audiences
SPOILERS: Flooded
SUMMARY: The much anticipated meeting between Angel and Buffy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Romance (B/A), angst
THANKS: To Joss and the PTB so I can create my own little meeting
"on-camera", not the way they planned.
Quickly, Buffy ran from the Summers' house, where she had grown up in for so long, a shadow that now loomed as a problem, rather than an oasis from her problems. She left the questioning faces of her sister and Watcher behind, two more needy people buzzing around her.
She was running, bootheels clacking sharply on the ground. Almost across town now. Why am I so quickly off to see another needy face? No, Angel was different. Surely he'd understand, being back from hell and all. No. She shut her eyes from the tension that was threatening her sinuses. Oh yeah, pain, another mortal reality. Terrific.
Frustrated, she pushed ahead, winding her way through the crowds until she hit Marvy's. It was a seedy bar, unadvertised but for its conspicuously shaded windows which gave a hint as to the clientele. A demon hung near the front, cigarette in hand, snarling as she approached.
"Get lost," she said, pushing him out of the way. He stumbled a little, but walked off, unwilling to draw the Slayer's wrath further.
She entered the bar, and was immediately greeted by the smell. Surprising, actually, a mixture of frankincense, vanilla and patchouli. Much like a fragrance she wore in highschool. The inside of the place didn't look so bad. Black painted tin ceiling, fluorescent backlighting under the bar counter. She smirked.
"Hey! We don't allow your kind in here!" the barkeep shouted. He was not of the stature that Buffy was threatened by, though he made a good effort.
Buffy met his eyes. "My kind?" She folded her arms across her chest.
"And I say she stays." Angel glared back at him. He stood behind Buffy, placing both hands on her shoulders. His leather jacket smelled so refreshing, familiar.
The barman cursed, then went about his business. Angel stared down at her, fighting to keep his emotions at bay. She looked back at up at him, her features softening. Suddenly, she was self-conscious over how revealing her cocoa tank was. They stayed that way for countless moments.
"Let's sit down before one of us loses our balance," she said nervously. His eyes never left her.
They sat at a table near the back. He ordered a round of drinks, both non-alcoholic, but surprisingly, she insisted on a pilsner.
"Call it a bad habit from college," she mused, shyly wiping away the foam from her lip.
"Buffy" he began. He took her hands in his. "I'll never forgive myself for not being there when it happened."
"There's nothing you could have done. I had to, regardless." The words came out like a rush, her eyes cast downward. Tenderly, she gripped his hands tighter.
In the background, a popular song was playing. I keep on falling/in and out of love/ with you.
The jazzy melody began to fill the club. There was little else going on.
"Gotta love her," she murmured. "Alicia Keys."
He looked up and to the left, away from the booth, as if a troubling scent had somehow filtered in. "Never heard of her. So, are youokay?"
She fidgeted, drawing whorls in the cool condensation on her mug. Her eyes captured his, and she began telling what she remembered, from the time of her death, to after. Like with Spike, she related it honestly, relieved not to save face. Afterwards, Angel's face hung open, as if he were breathing for the first time in years.
He ran his fingers through his spiky chestnut hair. Her gaze fell to his collar, throat exposed, dark silk shirt unbuttoned almost to his chest.
I keep on falling..in and outof love
with you..
I never loved someone the way that I love you
"I take it that the gang doesn't know what you've told me." He mind was still reeling-the thought of clawing out of her own grave. He'd done it, but
"No, and neither must yours." The idea of Cordelia rolling her eyes at the heaven bit-or worse-showing pity was too much to bear.
"Um-there is one other thing." Again her eyes averted. The crystals at her bosom sparkled. "Spike works with us."
"Spike? Since when?" His hands balled into fists. "Don't tell me you trust him."
"Not completely. But-he saved my sister, and can't hunt. I believe I told you about the chip." She grinned mirthlessly and tapped the side of her head.
Still, his dark eyes clouded. "Yeah, I'll bet what the real reason he's sticking around for. Now that I'm out of the picture-"
She raised her eyebrows. "And who said you were?"
"But we decided that awhile back, you know, keep our eyes open," he said, closing his. He was remembering the moment that was stolen from them several years back. Another reason to curse his fate.
Possessively, she took his hands in her own. "Angel, ever since I returned, I've been trying to deal with what has been taken from me. I don't know if I'll ever adjust completely, but I need to be real with those I trust. Which includes you." Her eyes bore into his. "You know I can't make any promises, but what we shared, what we had, was too deep to be forgotten. I still need you to be a part of my life."
Her eyes welled up. "Let's go." He followed her out into the street, ducking beneath trees to avoid the receding rays of the afternoon sun. Through a forest, they held hands, taking care as the Sunnydale cemetery came into view. It was twilight.
They regarded each other, knowing the moment was coming to a close. His hands gripped hers, but he could not make a move.
"I'm glad that you're back." He brought her hand to his lips, lingering there. Closing his eyes, remembering.
She surprised him by pulling him close into a kiss. They nuzzled, lovingly. "I'm glad you're here. Look at what I would have missed." She drew him closer, absorbing his scent. Once again, her emotions welled. "I love you." It escaped her lips without thought.
He pulled back, staring deep into her eyes. Brazenly, she continued. "I don't ever want to lose what we hadthat part of me. When I died, I knew you were all right, but I couldn't find you. It didn't matter. It does now."
He fought his emotions, but couldn't. The curve of her face, her lips. "Oh, I love you too," he blurted, then crushed her mouth against his. Relief washed upon him. He was happier than when they'd first made love. Why didn't he care about the curse? It was so wonderful.
Somewhere close, hidden in shadow, stood Willow. Blue wisps of light swirled around her. Cuts developed in her hands, feet. She smiled, pleased to help her friend once more. Soon, she would be truly happy again, be one of the gang. Her eyes were jet black. Or else.
* * * * * * * *
The End
Feedback!! Please.