My first Buffy fanfiction...lemme know if it's any good please!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Buffy giggled as she walked through Jessie Cafferty's house. Her parents, who had been fighting for hours before, had easily agreed to let her go to the party. She suspected they felt guilty for making her listen to their yelling and screaming yet again. So she went to the party even though she didn't really want to, and inadvertently got plastered.
"Alli? Alli, where did you go?" Buffy called, looking for the girl who had come with her. Instead, she reached a group of rowdy guys sitting on a couch in the living room.
"Hey guys," she slurred, swaying a bit as she spoke, "Have you seen Alli?"
"No," Adam said with a grin on his face. "I believe she is 'occupied' elsewhere." They all laughed knowingly.
"Well, she's supposed to drive me home," Buffy said, "but now I guess I'll just have to drive myself!" She giggled yet again.
"Um, Buffy?" Mike, a slighty nerdy guy who always managed to show up to parties said nervously, "I don't think you should really drive - "
"And I," Buffy interrupted, motioning with her hands, "don't think someone should have plastered my fruit punch. Fine," she added, seeing Mike's distraught face, "I'll just go outside and wait for her there." She turned on her heel, stumbled, but then caught her balance.
The cool Californian night - or was it morning? - air hit Buffy and made her shiver.
She had the strangest feeling that someone - or something - was watching her, but she wasn't sure who or what. She shook herself off, figuring it was the large amount of alcohol in her body that was making her feel weird things. After all, it was California. What could go wrong there?
Angel sat in his car with Whistler, watching the young brand-new Slayer. She didn't know it yet - Merrick was supposed to tell her the very next day, Angel was told - but she was to be the next Chosen One. And she looked so young. And...drunk? Angel cocked his head to the side to get a better view. Yes, she was drunk. Drunk and beautiful.
Buffy sat in the middle of the yard, looking at her fingernails and judging in the sparse moonlight whether her nails were painted magenta red or blood red. After a few minutes of deliberating, Buffy decided that her nails were a lovely shade of blood red. Satisfied with her choice, Buffy promptly passed out.
Whistler chuckled from the car.
"She's not a very smart cookie, is she?" he asked Angel with a grin on his face. Angel was too busy watching Buffy's chest rise and fall, rise and fall. It was melodic, really, he thought to himself.
"She'll learn," he said, still watching. A couple guys from inside the house walked out and stopped, pointing at Buffy and laughing. They started to walk over to her, and Angel started.
"Whoa!" Whistler shouted. "Calm down there, big fella," But Angel had already opened the door to the car and ran across the street.
"Hey," Angel shouted to the two teens. "Don't touch her."
"Why? She a friend of yours or something?" the taller of the two asked him.
"Yea. A very good friend of mine." Angel replied, growing angry. "Just let me take her home, ok?" He glared at the two of them until they finally relented.
"Um, ok," They both ran off to their prospective cars and drove away.
Angel picked Buffy up - she was light, a feather, really - and walked her over to the car.
"Er, Angelman," Whistler said apprehensively, staring at the girl in Angel's arms, "You're not planning on putting her in here, are you?"
"Yes. We are taking her home." Angel's no nonsense attitude caused Whistler to shut up quickly. They drove to 1630 Revello Drive in silence, Angel listening to the metronome-like sound of Buffy's breathing.
They finally reached it, after a few minutes. Angel wasn't sure how he was going to get her in her house, but he could try.
"Whistler? You got a pick?" he whispered as to not wake Buffy up.
"For locks?" Angel nodded. "Course I do." he retrieved it from the seemingly bottemless hole in his pants.
"Come with me." Angel gestured, getting out of the car. They walked up to the door, Angel carrying Buffy, Whistler carrying the pick lock.
"Unlock it and carry her in, ok? You know I can't..."Angel didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. Whistler knew exactly what he was talking about.
Whistler complied, and Angel was just about to hand Buffy over to him.
"One more thing," he whispered. He tilted Buffy's head towards his own, and kissed her forehead.
"Good night sweet girl," he whispered, finally letting go of her and handing her over to Whistler. Angel walked away and didn't turn back, but he didn't have to. From now on, Buffy would always be on his mind. He was in love.