Disclaimer: I don't own the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the original characters. All I own is my imagination and the plot. The quote I used is by Wendell Berry.
A/N: Before you start reading, I should point out that normally I only take on the characters and storyline of the series Gilmore Girls, so this is a completely new direction for me. I see it as me branching out and trying my hand at something new and in all honesty, I've never been a frequent watcher of the actual series so if it's AU and OC, I apologize, but that's the way it turned out. Also, while writing this, I couldn't help thinking of one of my friends which is the reason why I dedicate this to you, Steffanie. I hope I don't disappoint. :)
There is Something...
"At night make me one with the darkness; in the morning make me one with the light."
From behind a closed window he watched, standing in a dead silence because the next window had been opened all the way. She had done it to catch a whiff of the smell of rain that had yet to crawl up from the earth's deeper regions. It wasn't the only thing that lingered. There were others, many other things that she had been blind to until her eyes had been opened for her. There was a whole other night-life that she had had no clue about until she had been introduced to it by a stuffy and old-fashioned librarian and the last few night, her hot spots had consisted of cemeteries, dark alleyways, and other dark and shady places that were perfect for some midnight crime.
It was overwhelming when it came to the small, but effective (when used properly) variety of weapons that lay hidden in the large keepsake chest in front of her bed, but the late nights also proved much harder to explain than she had thought; her parents didn't buy the story of her studying at a friend's house and didn't approve of the other one where she stayed out all night to party. It was something her parents worried about and fought about when she was in another room, thinking that she wouldn't hear them, but she did, every time, tonight being no exception.
Her mom and dad had begun blaming each other for their daughter's behavior as soon as she had disappeared into her room, but not before having shown their disapproval by not even looking at her when she had gotten home. They hadn't even bothered with a speech this time; in their eyes, she was already hopeless. Their voices weren't loud and clear enough for her to make out their accusations towards each other, but it sounded like two parents fighting over something that they couldn't control and she couldn't talk about.
A tear was wiped away before it could fall. Even alone in her room she tried to stay strong, although he had caught the glimmer of sadness. He knew how to read her because of the many that had come before her, even if she had yet to fit his image completely. She still dressed for the sake of standing out and fitting in at the same time, still choosing heels above something more comfortable and a feminine off the shoulder top over something more practical.
He looked on as she removed her make-up with care, realizing how old he really was and how young she still was. She graciously stepped out of her shoes while tugging off her shirt at the same time, gingerly running her fingers over the fresh scrapes on her shoulder before slipping them beneath the waistline of her pants, uncovering her bruises to him inch by inch.
She was a beginner.
She took her time changing, the tank top leaving her shoulders bare and her sweatpants hanging loosely from her hips, adding no pressure to the tender skin beneath. She was unaware of his studious gaze as he took in her position in front of the mirror. Her hips were slightly cocked back while her feet were turned inwards, her toes close to touching. She had dancer's legs.
As he slowly brought his eyes back up to her face, goose bumps were left in their trail, the ones she got whenever she thought that someone was watching her, but when she turned to look, she found no one in sight. Still, she quickly made her way over to the open window, leaning forward a little so the tips of her fingers could curl themselves around the handle, but letting go again soon after as someone softly knocked on her door.
''Buffy, can we talk?'' were the words her mom spoke as the door was opened to a crack.
''Are you and dad finally done fighting or is this just a break?'' she asked, her face blank as she waited for her mom to step into her room. ''You heard us?''
''You're room is right next to mine,'' she pointed out somewhat bitterly, knowing that her behavior wouldn't help anyone but herself; it was her way of showing her disapproval.
''We're sorry, Buffy.'' Joyce walked up to her daughter. ''My relationship with your dad has always been complicated, you know that.'' She pregnantly paused before going on. ''And your midnight strolls aren't helping.''
Buffy sighed. ''I know, and I already apologized a million times.''
''Yeah, I know.'' Joyce tenderly brushed a strand of her daughter's hair aside before crossing her arms. ''Where were you tonight?''
''With a friend.''
''Really, and does this friend have a name or are you just making one up for your sake?''
''Mom,'' Buffy began slightly exasperated, ''I know that I'm secretive at times, but it's for your own good, trust me. And no, I'm not doing drugs or anything like that, okay?''
Joyce nodded. ''Okay, you're off the hook for tonight. Now go to sleep.''
''Night, mom,'' she said, thankful that she didn't have to go into anything tonight.
Joyce looked back at Buffy with a smile. ''Goodnight.''
When the door closed, the goose bumps were still there and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake off the feeling of paranoia that suddenly caged her. Intuitively she reached for the stake that she had hidden from her parents' eyes beneath a stack of magazines. She tightened her grip on it as she prepared herself to turn; it had quickly become a security blanket of sorts to her. After one final breath, she whirled around, holding the stake at the height of someone's heart, making sure that she had the target in sight when she aimed. The stake's sharp point came to a halt right where the heart should be, but she stopped applying pressure the second she came eye to eye with her victim. ''Angel.''
''Buffy,'' was his only response.
She took a step back while removing the stake from his heart, tossing it onto her bed before going back to her former place in front of the mirror. She began removing the pins from her hair, pausing briefly to look back at him over her shoulder. ''You can come in if you want.''
''Is it what you want?''
''You're the one who was lurking around in my backyard,'' she said while turning her eyes back to her own reflection. She untangled the last pins from her locks, running a hand through her hair before turning back around to face him. She placed both of her hands on the dresser behind her, ready to push herself off, but ended up falling back against it instead as she heard her parents' bedroom door slam shut. She cast her eyes down as a pair of footsteps walked past her room.
''Do your parents always fight like that?'' Angel inquired, lacking the subtlety that came with the sympathy of a heartbeat.
Buffy shrugged and brought a hand up to push away some of the locks that shadowed her face. ''Sometimes, although it has gotten worse these past couple of days. It's my fault.'' She lifted her head slightly. ''I've been out late every night since I've been told that I was The Slayer and because I can't exactly tell my parents that I wander around graveyards looking for the creepy and crawling, I lie.''
''The creepy and crawling?'' he asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity and slight amusement.
''Yeah, the likes of you and anything else I come across,'' she told him.
''You don't like me, do you?''
''Hello, you're a vampire,'' she said while rolling her eyes.
''So why didn't you pierce this straight through my heart earlier?'' He picked up the stake from her bed. ''You had the opportunity.''
She shrugged up her shoulders once again. ''You didn't come over all bite-y.''
''Maybe you're just not my type,'' he commented, placing the stake back on her nightstand in an orderly fashion.
''Whatever, we are too different to ever work anyway; I mean, you like sleeping in a coffin, I like coffee.'' He didn't respond; he was too busy taking in all of the sights her room provided him with. She crossed her arms. ''You've never been in a girl's room before?''
He glanced at her. ''It's been a while.''
''Just stay away from any drawers and you'll be fine.''
He turned his head to hide a smile, his eye falling on the many pictures that cluttered up most of her desk. There was no order in them and the colors, though all bright, mismatched. It gave him a glimpse into her life. He wanted to reach out and pick up each and every one of the frames, but didn't. He settled for just looking, he always did. ''You have many friends,'' he loosely remarked.
''Had,'' she corrected his mistake.
He looked at her, silently asking for an explanation.
''Being popular doesn't seem as important as it used to be. Plus, saving the world takes up a lot of my time and since I basically have to lie to people about my real identity, I just don't bother which leaves me to hang with my high school librarian or as he likes to call himself, The Watcher.''
''I get lonely, too,'' he offered as a consolation, even though he didn't know if it was the right thing to say; it was the first time he cared.
''Yeah, but then again you are technically supposed to be dead,'' she joked, hoping that it would mask the greater part of her feelings from him. ''How old are you anyway?''
Angel didn't answer.
''That old, huh.'' She made her way over to him and he met her halfway as if they were drawn to one and other. ''I wish I could stay young forever.''
''It's not all that it's made out to be,'' he confessed to her.
''Yeah, but at least you'll never have to worry about getting wrinkles.''
''You're vain,'' Angel said.
''And you're dead, but I don't hold that against you.'' Buffy shot him a sweet smile before continuing. ''So, why aren't you all over me by now? Not that I want you anywhere near my neck, but you are a vampire and from what I've heard they have this weird craving for blood, unless you just happen to be one of those rare non-blood-drinking ones.''
His gaze lingered at the base of her neck out of formality. ''I don't drink the blood of humans.''
''Then how do you, and I'm using the therm as loosely as it can be used, stay alive?''
''I've learned to live off of the blood of animals.''
''To each it's own, I guess...'' she trailed off, leaving them in a silence they both didn't feel comfortable enough in just yet.
''Do you feel?'' Buffy suddenly asked, catching the look of surprise on Angel's face, though it disappeared again right before her eyes, leaving his face flawless and free of any emotion. ''I'm sorry,'' she quickly apologized. ''I'm not trying to be rude or bitchy or whatever, but you have no heartbeat and-'' She stopped herself and took another step towards him, placing her hand almost right up against him. She reached out her hand, but pulled back her fingers and balled them into a fist when they had already grazed the fabric of his shirt. ''Can I?'' she thoughtfully questioned.
He nodded.
She unclenched her fist and slowly slid her hand up to his heart, the tips of her fingers coming in contact with his chest first. She gently pressed her hand down, not expecting to find a heartbeat, but still wanting to feel for herself. ''So, do you feel?'' she repeated while locking eyes with him.
''Sometimes,'' he started off with a lie, ''though I tend not to.'' He looked down at her with a set of dark eyes that gave nothing away, even though he did feel. He felt everything she was doing to him at the moment, even though he didn't have a heartbeat to confirm it.
''Oh.'' She cast her eyes down and took an abrupt step back from him, needing to pull away before she would do nothing but sink. She started to tug her hand from his chest, her fingers dragging lazily behind as if to test him on his word.
He knew that he was slipping by the way his skin burned afterwards. Her handprint was one of the many that had been left on his heart, although she was one of the only ones that would have been able to really touch it.
''Why did you come here tonight?''
''You're The Slayer,'' was the only explanation he gave her.
She nodded and crossed her arms, resting all of her weight on her right hip and leg to take a defensive stand. ''You should go. It's late and I have school tomorrow,'' she said, gently reminding him of all of the gaps between them.
He turned, not saying another word as he gave into her request.
''Angel,'' she stopped him on his way out, letting her arms fall back down to her sides as he waited for her to go on. ''Could you teach me how to fight, unless you're too busy brooding or roaming,'' she said, adding the latter part swiftly to disguise her eager interest.
He nodded, hiding a smile. ''Tomorrow night?''
''Works for me.''
''I'll find you.''
Please review? (: Well, whether you love it or found it impossible to get through, I would like to know, even though I am pretty satisfied of how this turned out. Thanks for taking the time to read and I doubt I'll be writing any more BtVS stories. This was just something that had to be written in order to get it out of my mind. :)