Note: I just want to make one or two things clear before I go on with that story. I DO know that this is beyond ridiculous, and implausible, but that's all the fun of it, isn't it? So, I apologize to all of you who might be offended by what's said in that fic, please keep in mind that I in no way try to bash any character. This is purely done for my own fun, and hopefully yours! Enjoy!

One other thing I have to apologize about is the time it took me to go on with that story. I told you it wouldn't be long, but RL got in the way. Sorry.

Anf thanks to all of you who read and reviewed the first chapter! )

Dedication: I had originally dedicated that fic to my mom, but I've decided to add another person. So, here it goes, this is especially dedicated to my evil twin Rebecca, beta extraordinaire, first because it was her birthday about two weeks ago, and second, just because she's the best, so she deserves it… Some fun to lighten your mood, sweetie, I hope you enjoy!!

o o o o o o o

One week later

Faith was sitting on her bed, her back leaning against the headboard. Eyeing the still sleeping form of her girlfriend next to her, she was debating the idea of lighting up a cigarette. She knew Gwen would kill her when she woke up and smelled the smoke, but well… she needed it. And besides, if they argued, it would lead to making up, and that 'really' never was a bad thing.

She shrugged, having finally made up her mind, and grabbed one of what her brother not-so-affectionately called her 'death-sticks'. She was addicted, and she knew it, but she preferred not to think about it too much. She liked to believe she only smoked by choice, out of her own free will, because she wanted to live fully and not deprive herself of all the pleasures life could bring. She partied, she smoked, she drank occasionally, she loved… She didn't want to wake up one day and, looking back at her life, realize she'd just existed. If she was going to die tomorrow, she wanted to make sure there were no regrets at the back of her mind. Cliché, yes, cheesy, maybe, but that was how she'd decided to live.

Sighing softly, she put the cigarette between her lips, reaching out an arm to grab the lighter on her bedside table. Her fingers had barely grazed it when a croaky but slightly angry voice rang up in her ear.

"Don't even think about it…"

Faith jumped slightly, and looked down to find Gwen glaring at her from under half-closed eyelids. Rolling her eyes playfully, she got rid of all the evidences of what she was about to do.

"Don't even think about what?" she asked, trying to look innocent.

When Gwen only gave her a pointed look, she smiled sweetly and leant back against her pillow.

"Morning, sleeping beauty…" she murmured.

"Don't change the subject," Gwen chastised. "You know I don't want you to smoke in our bedroom".

Faith only lifted an eyebrow. "Well, I don't want you to eat on our bed, but there are still bread crumbs on the sheets…"

"I was only trying to save my food supply from your brother's gigantic appetite!" Gwen replied, outraged.

"Yeah, well, it still itches…"

After a few seconds of silence, Gwen finally relented. "Okay, I'm sorry. Truce?"

Her brunette girlfriend smiled, before taking her hand. "Truce."

And with that, Faith scooted closer to Gwen, and they both laid in silence between each other's arms, enjoying the early morning's peace. A faint light was filtering through the closed curtains, giving everything in the room an ethereal glow. Silence was all they could hear, and it was nice, to have some quiet time for a change… Usually, they would sleep their days away, and work all night, thus never enjoying those few precious moments of peace. Working after sunset had made them both nightly creatures… With Gwen's job as a dancer, and Faith's as a bartender, they had had to change their sleep patterns. But with Angel there, they both had been making efforts to at least be awake for some part of the day.

"Talking about my bro… Did you talk to the big guy yesterday?" Faith finally asked.

She felt the other brunette shake her head against her shoulder. "Nope… he came back from wherever the Hell he spent the last three days late last night, and went straight to his room", Gwen replied, shrugging.

"Hm, I think he told me he found a room he uses as a studio, a few days ago… but I was just back from the Lair, I didn't really listen."

"Are his damn paintings finally there?"

Faith nodded, smiling. "Yeah, he was going psycho, scared to death that they'd be lost, or scratched… and it's not over, his precious furniture still haven't been delivered."

"Speaking of furniture, we 'have' to find him an apartment. Really soon," Gwen said, emphasizing the urgency of her request. When Faith only chuckled, she raised herself on her elbow. "I'm serious! Your bro's a sweetie, really, but if I find anymore dirty towels, socks, and clothes on the bathroom floor, I might get violent."

This time, Faith laughed out loud, shaking her head. "I can't stand it either. I don't know why he acts like this, Angie's usually a neat freak. To the point it's… freaky," she said, frowning at her own choice of words.

"I think he's just depressed. He needs to get laid, and quickly, if you ask me…"

"Working on it…" Faith replied with a devilish smile. "You know me, the infamous match-maker from hell…"

"Well, I'd be tempted to say 'pimp', but hey, whatever makes you feel better," her girlfriend replied, lightly tickling her sides.

"Very funny…" Faith whispered, mock-glaring at the beautiful girl next to her, before dropping a kiss on her nose.

"Did you manage to convince him for the gallery?" Gwen asked, snuggling closer to the brunette.

Said brunette smiled proudly, still not quite believing their plan was working so smoothly. "He's got an appointment later today."

"She doesn't know it's you?"

"Are you kidding? I got Alonna to call for me…"

Gwen felt her own lips stretch into an evil smile. "You're good…" she said, her words eliciting a satisfied smile on the poor victim's sister's face.

"I know… Now if we're done talking about my big lonely brother's sex life," Faith said, running a hand down her girlfriend's side, and moving her face closer to Gwen's, "or the lack thereof, how about we make up properly?" she finished softly, with a kiss on her lips.

They both smiled as Gwen playfully drew back. "Make up for what?" she asked innocently. "I don't remember anything that would have to require making up, sorry…"

Faith just shrugged, an amused glint in her eyes. "Well, ya know, I was going to smoke here…" she said, not for one second ashamed of her actions.

"Oh… that," her girlfriend replied, moving so that she'd be lying on top of the brunette. "You're a bad, bad girl…" she whispered in her ear, her fingers playing with her hair.

Faith gasped at the contact of her skin against her belly, but quickly caught herself and only gave her a smug smile, before lightly tickling her side. "Then why don't you just punish me?"

"I might just have to do that…"

Their lips met in a kiss, as they revelled in the intimacy they could share, away from the reproachful looks and hurtful words… Not that they'd ever cared. It was only them, it had always been only them, in their little bubble.

After that, there was very little in the way of conversation.

o o o o o o o

It was barely half past seven, and Angel wasn't really used to wake up that early. Back in New York, he used to sleep until late in the morning, but within a week back on the west coast, time difference had completely destroyed his sleep pattern. So, there he was, too tired to move but not enough to sleep, stuck in some sort of hazy fog that wouldn't seem to clear around him.

He climbed down the last three steps on the stairs in his sister's duplex apartment, and blindly headed for the coffee pot, his shoulders slumped and his feet never really leaving the floor. He fumbled for a while with the filters, and then with the machine's buttons, before finally sitting down on a strangely shaped chair in front of the kitchen island. It was black, with only three legs, and a really thin back with a hole in it. Really, Faith had the weirdest tastes…

Once comfortably settled, or at least as comfortably as the weird seat allowed, he let the coffee's heavenly scent fill his nostrils and let out a sigh of pure pleasure in the semi-darkness of the room. Just the smell was enough to make him come back to life…

He had a long day ahead of him, and he knew it. He still had a few paintings to collect at the delivery center, the ones he hadn't wanted handed to anyone but himself… Faith, in her usual blunt manner and colourful vocabulary, had mentioned once or twice that she thought he was being 'just fucking anal about this', her words, but he'd just shrugged her off… he knew what he was doing. Some things were just too precious to risk anything happening to them.

And then, he had an appointment at a gallery his sister and Gwen insisted he had to check out, because he surely would want to sell some of his pieces there. According to them, it was a fantastic place, where a friend of theirs used to work, and he would love it. He really didn't know to what extent he could trust them, but he had to start somewhere, right? Besides, he had a feeling the girls had had enough of him. He knew he was imposing, even if neither of them had ever said anything about it… though the murderous look Gwen had given him the day before when she got out of the bathroom would have been enough to clue him in if he hadn't realized it by himself.

He needed a place to stay, and to achieve that, he needed money. He had some, of course, he had saved quite a comfortable amount from earlier sellings and jobs, but not enough to last more than a few months. He would leave anyway, giving his sister and her girlfriend some space, but he didn't want to rush into anything…

Coming back to Sunnydale wouldn't be easy. He knew it. He'd left years before, hoping to never come back, and yet there he was, after less than a decade. Time and distance had taught him to appreciate what he had; New York was great, but it had never felt like home, despite the women and the people around him… He had missed that sense of belonging he'd come to realize he would find only with a family, as dysfunctional and broken as his was. His sister was on the west coast, as well as old friends, and that was enough for him to feel better about his decision.

When the machine beeped, Angel got up from his chair and grabbed the pot to pour some of the dark beverage in what was obviously his sister's mug, if the inscription "pet the barmaid" was any clue. He chuckled before finally bringing it to his lips.

Maybe that day wouldn't be so bad after all.

He went about his business, as he usually did, making a point not to leave dirty dishes in the sink. He had a feeling Gwen would resort to violence if he wasn't careful… she didn't seem like the peaceful type, as lovely as she might be.

Finding himself completely alone in a new apartment would be quite the change. He was used to having a roommate in New York, and though he was a naturally solitary person, he'd gotten used to have company after all these years. He still didn't like parties, or social events, and he knew he would enjoy his peace, of course, but loneliness scared him a little…

Well, at least Faith would be close by.

He was about to grab the remote and turn the TV on when he heard the sound of a muffled moan coming from upstairs. He cringed, embarrassed at the idea of hearing his sister doing things not suitable for minors, but then shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips… those two never, ever stopped.

He flipped through the channels, the sound of the TV effectively covering the noises coming from the two lovers, and decided he was more than happy for Faith. She deserved what she had… Now, it was his turn to live his life.

He sighed, settling more comfortably on the sofa, enjoying it while he still could. He knew he couldn't lounge around the living room for the rest of the day, as appealing as the idea was. He listed in his head everything he had to do, until the amount became so impressive he lost track of his own thoughts, and decided it was time to get a move on. Besides, if he didn't make a dash for the bathroom now, eventually one or both of the girls would get it before him, and he would never get a chance to have a shower before noon. Or even hot water at all.

Reluctantly, he turned the TV off, and extracted himself from between the soft cushions, stretching his sore muscles as he stood up. Carrying around boxes and paintings for the last four days had taken its toll on him… he was only twenty-seven, but at the moment, he certainly felt every bit like the old and worn out man he wasn't yet.

As quietly as humanly possible, he locked himself inside the bathroom before shedding the loose dark pants he'd put on when he woke up; Gwen had already walked in on him once, he wasn't looking forward to repeating the experience.

He climbed in the bathtub and placed himself directly under the shower spray. Just as he released a sigh at the feeling of the hot water rinsing down his back, a loud banging noise startled him out of the blissful feeling.

"Damn it, Angel!" Faith's voice rang out through the door as she continued knocking urgently. "You better hurry your ass up, I need to pee!"

He closed his eyes tightly before banging his forehead on the shower wall, and cursed under his breath in annoyance… he really needed his own place.

o o o o o o o

Buffy Summers had never been a very patient woman; that much she could admit about herself. And as she remarked inwardly after listening to her co-worker rambling for two hours, non-stop, what little patience she had was wearing thinner than Calista Flockhart at her worst, by the minute.

She was at the gallery, sorting through all the paperwork that had accumulated during the owner's absence. Miss Finch was off to Hawaii for a holiday with her family, and the two employees were on their own to deal with anything that happened during her absence. Hopefully, everything would go smoothly, but if Anya kept the chat up, Buffy wasn't sure she would be able to refrain herself from murdering the blonde.

Her appointment of the day still hadn't shown up, but to her credit, she wasn't due to arrive for ten more minutes. The girl on the phone had said the artist was new in town and had a few pieces to sell… Miss Finch's gallery was well known in the area, but it had been a while since anything interesting had happened there, so, Buffy had eagerly agreed to meet the woman.

Now if only Anya could shut her mouth and leave her alone to concentrate… But Buffy knew it was no use getting angry or yelling. The best she could do now was to keep quiet and pretend the chatter didn't bother her; eventually, her co-worker would get tired of talking to the wind and lapse into a blissful silence.

Unfortunately, that little miracle apparently wouldn't happen any time soon.

"Anyway," the over-excited blonde continued, unaware of Buffy's total disinterest, "Xander 'totally' blew my mind. I don't think I'd ever had that many orgasms at once before that! And we're planning on trying the next one in the book tonight… good thing I did gymnastics back in high school… No, really, did you know it was even possible to touch the back of your own head with your foot?" she asked as if talking about the weather, completely unashamed of her tendencies to over-share her personal life.

That was the last acceptable blow for Buffy. She banged her head on her desk, dropping the file she had in her right hand, before releasing a long sigh. 'Enough is enough.' Not that she was a prude, but really, there were things she never, ever wanted to know about concerning her friends and acquaintances' private life. Her middle school classmate Xander's bed abilities were among them… probably nearing the top of the list, right under her uncle Giles' casual sex encounters, of which she had been an unfortunate witness one night when she had spotted him with the high school's English teacher, on top of a car in a fast food's parking lot. She had never dared to ask whether or not the usually rather serious and quiet librarian had been incredibly inebriated at the time, or if exhibitionism was a regular occurrence where his sex life was concerned.

So, at the mention of yet another of Xander's exploits, her already very fragile control finally snapped.

"Anya," she started between clenched teeth, removing her face from her keyboard, "please, do me a favour… shut your mouth!" she finally said, shouting the last three words before violently grabbing another one of the files she had next to her, thus sending the whole pile flying on the floor.

"Geez, Buffy, did you wake up on the wrong side of the universe today?" her co-worker asked, raising her eyebrows at the unexpected outburst. "Maybe you should just get laid…" she added, which only earned her a withering glare from the young woman. In typical Anya-fashion, the blonde just shrugged, not really getting what she had done wrong but not willing to figure it out, and went about dusting the many shelves around the gallery. As far as she was concerned, Buffy was much too tense. A roll in the hay was the only miracle cure to her grumpiness, she was sure, so, what was wrong about suggesting it? Buffy had plenty of men around her, so, what was the problem? Sure, Lindsey was gay, but he could make an exception for his best friend, right? She just sighed… people, she would never get them.

As Anya finally walked away from her desk, Buffy closed her eyes and sighed, happy to finally have a moment of peace. Her co-worker was a good person, but sometimes… well, sometimes she could be a pain. She sat back in her chair for a second, basking in the silence, before reluctantly getting up to pick up all the mail, files, and random notes that were now scattered around the floor at her feet.

She was kneeling under her desk, trying to reach one of her pencils that had apparently taken the same dive as her papers, when the sound of somebody clearing their throat made her almost jump out her skin. Startled, she raised her face… a little too fast, and hit the back of her head with a loud 'thump' under the heavy piece of furniture. As she hissed and brought a hand to the bump that she knew would soon swell to the size of a small bowling ball, she caught a glimpse of what was obviously a masculine pair of feet. Once her brain got over the 'nice shoes' part of the encounter, she realised that she would eventually have to get up.

"Are you okay?" the person asked, obviously trying to see her over the table.

Buffy bit her lip, hard. Figured… why did that kind of thing always happen to her? There she was, on all four, and she had just bumped her head… whoever the man was now knew the extent of the clumsiness she had to live with everyday. She shook her head and sighed softly, resigned to the idea that she would have to make a fool of herself and greet the newcomer; that meant getting up and trying not to appear too insane.

Plastering a smile on her face, she got out from under the desk and stood up as quickly and gracefully as she could manage, straightening her skirt and hair in two quick movements. She took a deep breath, raised her chin, refusing to let her embarrassment get to her…

And paused as once again, just like it had happened the past weekend, she found herself staring into a startled pair of deep brown eyes.

Angel sucked in a breath as he came face to face with the small blond that had haunted his dreams for the past week. The encounter was completely unexpected, and knocked him off balance a bit. He recognized her immediately as she stood before him, smoothing the wrinkles on her clothes. They had barely talked for a few seconds, but she had made quite an impression on him… the rest of his evening at the club had seemed colder, somehow, after his realizations about the girl. He had come back home with Gwen dejected and had headed straight for his bed, hoping to drown his disappointment in a few hours of sleep. He watched as a light of recognition dawned on her eyes.

It took her a second to replace the memory and the feeling of déjà-vu, and when everything finally came back to her, she realized she'd been staring at him for quite some time, her mouth slightly open. She closed it abruptly, and cleared her throat. The same hunk of a man that had ruined her weekend without even knowing it a few days earlier was standing in front of her, just a short semblance of conversation with him and a painful realization that they both worked for the same side having led her to spend the following day sulking on her couch with a can of ice cream, perfecting the scowl she had firmly decided to address Lindsey for the rest of the week.

All thoughts of the bump on her head flew out of her mind as she struggled against the blush she could feel rising in her body. Well, at least that man already knew for a fact that she was a klutz, she thought. He had a ruined, margarita soaked shirt to prove it.

"Hello," she said, her smile back on her lips. She didn't know if she should act like she remembered him or not… and finally decided she was too lousy a liar to pull off a bluff like that. "Did you come for your shirt?" she asked, the teasing obvious in her voice. She doubted he'd tracked her down for that, it was probably just a coincidence. Or at least she hoped so… but the guy didn't give off the stalker vibe.

He just cleared his throat, and gave her a half-smile that had her knees trembling in seconds. 'Geez, Buff, he hasn't even said a word yet…'. He seemed to hesitate for a second, before stuffing his hands in his jeans' pockets, and balancing on the balls of his feet, obviously unnerved. Which was apparently becoming a sort of pattern between the two of them.

She had just met the guy about a whole minute, but he had affected her so deeply she could remember every second of their short conversation. She wasn't sure what it meant, and frankly, she didn't want to think about it too much. Better not go there, it probably wouldn't do wonders on her sanity.

"Uh… no," he finally replied, avoiding her gaze. "I… uh… I have an appointment with Miss Summers?" he said, the ending sounding like a question, as if he wasn't sure he was at the right place. "I'm Angel, Angel Lehane," he finished, extending his right hand.

Angel? Was this guy really named Angel? Buffy bit back a chuckle. He wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting. Actually, she'd been expecting an individual of the other gender, with a little less muscle and a little more boobs. The girl on the phone hadn't really been forthcoming with information… she'd just said there was an artist named Angel who wanted to meet her, and had panicked when Buffy had asked precisions. So, given the girlish sound of the name, she had automatically assumed the artist in question was a woman.

The air of surprise had only lasted a fraction of second on her face, but he'd caught it anyway. He just knew what she must be thinking… he'd heard that one ever since he was old enough to understand. Once even, he'd been registered as a girl for a sport competition. What his mother had been thinking, he was still trying to figure out.

"Oh," she finally managed to utter, before shaking herself. "I'm Buffy Summers, nice to meet you. Again." She shook his hand, holding back a gasp at the rush of electricity she felt when their skins came in contact.

He smiled again, relaxing a little, but quickly retreated his palm. He didn't know what it was about that girl that elicited such a reaction in him, but it was… weird. "I wasn't expecting to meet you here," he said with a sort of apologetic shrug. Which was true; actually, he hadn't expected to meet her ever again… and kind of hoped he wouldn't. He paused for a second at her name, a thought nagging at the back of his mind, like he should remember something but couldn't… but the sensation left him as soon as it had arrived, and he didn't give more attention than that.

She avoided his gaze, chastising herself for her apparent inability to handle this maturely. But she couldn't help it, every time he smiled or just looked at her, she had this strangest urge to giggle like a schoolgirl… usually followed by another pressing urge to choke herself to death with her pencil. But that was a whole other story.

"Well, if you wanna know the truth, me neither," she replied. 'Actually, I kinda hoped I'd never meet you again… or was it that I would meet you again? Sheesh, where has my brain gone to?' "So," she continued, breaking the awkward silence between them. "I saw some of your work, and I really want to host a show here, with your paintings. And maybe some of your sculptures as well."

He raised an eyebrow. "You saw my work?" he asked, obviously surprised.

"Well, I didn't actually see it, as in, real live, but I googled you!" she said brightly, glad she had overcome her previous tongue paralysis… until her words registered in her brain.

He felt his eyebrow rise so high at her words that he was positive they'd disappeared under his hair. She'd googled him? What the…

She opened her eyes wide, feeling her cheeks heating up as she closed her mouth abruptly and looked at him. He was looking back at her with raised eyebrows. "Googled. As in, looked you up," she clarified, "you know, on the internet…" she squeezed her eyes shut, aware that she was digging herself into a hole. "I didn't mean…--"

"It's okay," he cut her off, smiling slightly at her attempt to clarify the situation. "I know you wouldn't… you know… ogle me," he finished lamely, trying to alleviate the tension. It wasn't like she would be interested in him anyway.

'Huh? I would definitely ogle you buddy, just because I'm not your type doesn't mean… gah, why am I doing this to myself?' She forcefully put a stop to the thoughts his odd statement had evoked in her, and smile ruefully at him, accepting his attempt to save her from the deep water she'd been drowning herself in.

"So, as I was saying, I did some research on your art, asked around, and I'm really enthusiastic about all this." Well, now that she'd met him, she wasn't so sure she could trust herself with him and handle this, but the gallery needed some new blood, so, she would suck it up and pretend everything was as fine as it could get. "We would need to sort through your canvases, make a selection, but maybe I could come over at your place so we can choose together?" God, was she really inviting herself over at his place? Well this was kind of her job, but still… it felt strange.

He kept silent for a second, and looked at her. Could he handle it? He wasn't sure. But on the other hand… that gallery would be a start for his career on the west coast. He needed money, he'd already established that. He was digging through the contents of his pockets to find his business card, determined to give Buffy his personal number, when a new voice rang up from the door on the corner of the brightly lit room. He turned around, and spotted another blonde there, leaning against the door frame, eyeing him appreciatively… a little too appreciatively, even. One look in her eyes and he knew she would eat him alive if he got too close.

He was used to having women bat their eyelashes around him, trying to get into his bed – which they usually managed without too much effort - but this one? He'd rather not know.

Buffy cleared her throat, effectively halting his train of thoughts. "Angel, this is Anya, she works here. Anya, this is Angel, the artist who –"

"You're not a woman?" Anya asked bluntly, walking closer to him, and seizing him up in a glance.

Buffy blushed a deep crimson as her co-worker voiced the thought that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue when she'd realized Angel was in fact a man. But Angel only chuckled. "Well, no, not since I last checked anyway…"

"That's good!" the blonde replied.

Angel tried not to think about the look in her eyes when she'd said it… and decided to back out while it was still possible. She was already about to invade his personal space.

He handed his business card to a still obviously embarrassed Buffy. "Call me later today, we'll decide what to do for the… uh… paintings." He had intended to say much more during this meeting, but that was before he met the two women. "I'm sorry, I have to go now… my, uh, sister is waiting for me and…"

"Oh, it's okay!" Buffy said quickly. A little too quickly… He didn't know what to think. Did she not want him here? A thought struck him at that moment... was she afraid he would spill the beans about her sexuality? Didn't her co-workers know? Well, it was none of his business, really, but still…

"So, I guess I'll see you?" he said tentatively.

"Yeah, sure… have a nice day!"

And before she could blink, he was gone.

"My God, Buffy, have you seen that man?" Anya asked loudly as soon as he was out in the street. "I swear, if he were to sleep at my place, I wouldn't leave him on the couch…"

"He's gay, Anya…" Buffy replied, feeling like she had to protect the poor guy. And besides, if he was ever to switch sides, she certainly hoped she'd be the first one to snatch him away. "And besides, what about Xander?"

The blonde only shrugged, undeterred. "So what? He's one yummy slice of man pie… all dark, and glowery…Think he would be up for a threesome?" she asked, before turning away after a few seconds, obviously deep in thoughts.

Buffy just stood there, speechless. Now that she was alone, the reality of the situation hit her, full force. That man had unknowingly invaded her dreams for the past week… and now she would have to deal with him on a daily basis? This would not be good…

What had she gotten herself into?

She let out a deep sigh before slumping her shoulders and walking to her desk. She sat down on her chair heavily, and once again dropped her head on her desk, one single thought invading her brain.

'Oh boy…'

o o o o o o o

TBC

I know Anya does come out as a bit of a nymphomaniac, and I'm sorry. I really like her, but musie had plans... doesn't mean she's not a nice person though!

Hope you enjoyed, please tell me what you thought! And once again, I apologize for the delay!