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Chapter 3

"Angel, are you busy?' Giles asked, appearing behind Angel, who was watching Buffy rehearse a scene with her co-star.

"No. Do you need something?" Angel asked. Giles adjusted his glasses and watched Buffy for a moment.

"Once a week we collect all of Buffy's fan mail from the studio and go through it. We select letters at random to receive a reply and send out the form responses. We also screen for hate mail and threats, or anything that could be dangerous. I thought you might like to familiarize yourself with the process."

"I would, thank you." Angel nodded and stood up. "Who else helps you with this?"

Though Angel had been working with Buffy in LA for a little over a week, it had been a busy one and he hadn't met everyone in her life yet. She'd mentioned a personal assistant who had been vacationing in Aspen, as well as a personal trainer who she'd taken a break from until her ribs healed.

"Anya, Buffy's personal assistant. I don't believe you've met her, have you?" Giles asked, leading Angel off the soundstage and into the main building.

"No, I haven't." Giles nodded as they turned down a short hallway. They entered an empty conference room where several mail bags, filled to bursting, sat on the floor. "That's her fan mail?" Angel asked, his eyes bulging a little.

"No, it's only half," a blonde woman huffed, squeezing past the two men with another overflowing bag. "You know, you two big strapping men could help me with these ridiculously heavy bags," she snapped, grunting as she dropped the bag. She turned around and spotted Angel, and Angel would have sworn under oath that she actually started drooling.

"Anya, this is Buffy's new bodyguard, Angel," Giles introduced. Anya slinked forward, extending her hand.

Angel shook it, shrinking away from her lusty gaze.

"Well hello. Now come on, help me carry the rest."

It took Angel, Giles, and Anya almost half an hour to drag in the rest of the fan mail into the conference room.

After Angel and Giles were settled in with the first stacks of letters, Anya made a Starbucks run.

"Giles, I cannot possibly work like this without some serious caffeine. I'm going to Starbucks whether you like it or not. Now, what would you like?" Anya asked, arching an eyebrow and cocking her hip.

"Not any of the rubbish they serve at Starbucks. I can brew a perfectly good tea in the writer's room thank you," Giles scoffed. Anya rolled her eyes and looked to Angel.

"I'll just take a black coffee. Thanks Anya," he added. Anya nodded and typed the list into her Blackberry before trotting off.

"She'll be an hour, at least," Giles sighed. He started to work through his pile of letters.

Angel simply looked at the bags scattered around the room, feeling more than a little intimidated by all the people who loved his charge. "How should I start?"

"Hmm?" Giles asked absently, scanning the letter in his hands.

"How should I start?" Angel repeated.

Giles set the letter down and took off his glasses, cleaning them with a little handkerchief from his pocket. "You just worry about anything that could pose a threat. There's a list here somewhere," Giles trailed off and started digging through his portfolio for something. Finally he pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it across the table to Angel. "This is a list of fans we've already flagged as a potential threat. Potential stalkers, death threats, anything that could harm Buffy."

"This is a pretty long list. Why hasn't Buffy had a bodyguard before?" Angel asked, scanning the list of twenty names.

"Buffy has always been adamant about not having a bodyguard. She wanted to hang on to as much normalcy as possible, given her career choice. However, after this fiasco with the paparazzi and the ever-growing list of potential threats I urged her to reconsider," Giles explained.

"And she just bent to your wishes? I haven't known Buffy long, but I can't imagine her giving in very easily."

"It was strange," Giles laughed. "But she said she knew just who to call and the next thing I know she hires you."

Angel went back to reading over the threat list and fan mail. After a while, he paused over a letter consisting of the most awful poetry he'd ever read. He winced as he read through it and looked over to Giles. "Who's this 'Spike' character?" Angel asked, seeing his name on the threat list.

"Ah yes, William the Bloody," Giles said, nodding.

"William the Bloody?" Angel laughed. The name was absurd. "How did he get that name?"

"He calls himself Spike, but a background check conducted by a police contact listed his given name as William. We added 'the Bloody' because of the bloody awful poetry he sends Buffy," Giles explained with a smile.

"Why is he on the list?" Angel asked, smiling along with Giles.

"He knew Buffy before she became famous. He knows where she lives, and he has a history of mental instability," Giles sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We don't necessarily think that he's a serious threat, but we would like to keep an eye on him."

"Do you have a picture? I'd like to know who to keep an eye out for," Angel explained.

"We have photos of the high priority threats, but they're at my office," Giles said. "Buffy and I will have a dinner meeting tonight, I can bring them then for you to look over."

"But Spike isn't a high priority threat, so you don't have a picture?" Angel asked, trying to clarify.

"No, we don't have a picture," said Giles, shaking his head. "Well, Buffy might in one of her old yearbooks. He was a few years ahead of her in school, and she left her sophomore year and began seeing a private tutor, but he may be in her freshman yearbook."

"I'll ask her to point him out," Angel agreed.

"Coffee's here!" Anya called, breezing into the room and setting a venti black coffee in front of Angel, a venti Earl Gray tea in front of Giles, who beamed, and settled into a seat with her own frothy, sugary coffee drink.

"Thank you, Anya," Giles sighed, gratefully taking a sip.

"I knew you would forget to make your own tea," Anya said with a shrug.

They settled into reading each letter, hardly speaking except for the occasional question or comment. Angel scanned for threats, Anya stuffed form replies into envelopes and addressed them, Giles did a bit of everything.

"Well lookie here, my three best people all in one room," Buffy said with a smile, sticking her head into the conference room. Giles gave her a weary smile.

"Is it lunch already?" Angel asked, moving to check his watch.

Buffy's tinkling laughter rang out like music. "No, it's way past lunch. It's quittin' time." A glance at his watched confirmed what she'd said; it was rounding on six o'clock.

"Great! I've got a date tonight and I don't want to be late. I'd really like him to give me an orgasm," Anya sighed, staring wistfully at nothing.

Giles only sighed and cleaned his glasses. Angel sputtered in shock, and Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Anya, we've talked about over-sharing, right?" Buffy asked playfully.

Anya frowned at her and then shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow, Buffy. Call if you need anything," Anya said as she sailed out.

Angel stood, looking around at the mess and wondering what to do about it.

"Do we just leave this all here?"

"Yes. We'll lock up the room and finish up tomorrow," Giles explained. "Buffy, I need to get a few things from home. Shall we meet at the restaurant at seven-thirty?"

"Sure. That will give me a chance to change. See you there." Buffy grabbed Angel's arm and led him from the room.

*

"So, you had some wonderful poetry from some whack-job named Spike today," Angel called from the settee in Buffy's bedroom as she changed in the bathroom.

"Oh Spike," she laughed. "It's gotten better with time, if you can believe it.'

"Really? How long has been sending you awful poetry?" Angel asked, reclining a little and looking around, still in awe after a week. Buffy's two thousand plus square foot, Tuscan style home in Brentwood was beautiful, something he had never imagined owning in a million years, much less at the tender age of nineteen.

"Since my freshman year of high school," Buffy said, interrupting his thoughts.

"How did that start? You weren't an actress then, were you?" Angel asked.

Buffy emerged from the bathroom looking wonderfully gorgeous in a silk red top and black pants that clung tightly to her curves. Angel felt his pulse quicken.

"No, I wasn't acting then, at least not in the professional sense. Anyway, I was good friends with Spike's little sister, so he was always kind of around. I don't know what I did, but he took a liking to me and that was it. He started putting little poems in my locker, leaving roses in my homeroom. I felt like I had a boyfriend, even though I hardly ever spoke to him," Buffy shrugged.

Angel couldn't help but feel uneasy about Spike and his attention to Buffy. It sounded as though he'd been obsessive from day one. "Did he ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Spike?" Buffy laughed, shaking her head. "No. He was a senior, I was a lowly freshman. I ate it up. He's harmless."

Angel wasn't so sure.

They jumped into the car and Angel drove them to downtown Hollywood, to a sushi restaurant Buffy swore was the best she'd ever been to. Angel was not a huge sushi fan, but Buffy promised him that neither was Giles, and that this restaurant served steak as well.

Traffic was heavy, but they made it to the building in record time. Angel parked in a garage nearby and ushered Buffy quickly outside. There was a lot of foot traffic on the sidewalk, and Angel was worried he would lose Buffy. She was so tiny that she could easily get swept up in the crowd.

Before Angel could decide how to deal with the crowd, Buffy's warm little hand slid into his and pulled him along. For a moment, all Angel could think of was her skin on his. All the noise of the crowded street disappeared and it took Angel several moments to realize it was because they had ducked inside the restaurant.

Buffy smiled up at him as she gave the maitre d' the fake name she sometimes used for reservations.

"The other member of your party is already seated," the maitre d' said as he led Buffy and Angel to a small three person table in the back.

"Thank you," Buffy said sweetly. Angel pulled out her chair and then settled in his own.

"Angel, I brought the photos you requested," Giles said, handing over a manila envelope.

"Thanks," Angel said, nodding. He stuck the envelope in his jacket breast pocket.

"What pictures?" Buffy asked, looking between the two men.

"Just the pictures of people Giles has deemed a threat," Angel promised. Buffy snorted and shook her head and then continued to peruse her menu.

"Buffy, I know you don't think anyone poses a threat to you, but you're a young, beautiful actress with millions of fans, some of whom are not the most mentally sound. Please just humor us," Giles said, his voice slightly pleading.

Buffy smiled softly at Giles and reached across the table to pat his hand. "Of course, Giles."

They had ordered and received their food and were talking about nothing, chit chatting before getting down to business, when a heavy hand fell on Buffy's shoulder.

"Buffy!"

Buffy jumped, startled by the loud, slurring voice in her ear. Angel lunged, grabbing the man by the arm and pushing him back before looking at who he was. Shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, that All-American look that pissed Angel off for no good reason. Angel had seen him before, but at the moment couldn't place him.

"Riley," Buffy sighed.

Something sparked in Angel's mind and he remembered the studio security man. His grip loosened. "Listen buddy, I get that you're a little tipsy and excited to see Buffy, but I need you to relax and take a step back," Angel said in a low, soothing voice. Riley just scoffed and shook off his hand.

"Buffy! It's so good to see you!" Riley cried, plopping down in Angel's abandoned chair. Angel could see Buffy roll her eyes and he tried to tamp down on a smile.

"Hello, Riley."

"Listen, Buffy…" Riley reached out to run his fingers down Buffy's arm. She shivered and a slow grin spread over Riley's face. He thought for sure she was his now.

Angel grimaced. He'd known Buffy all of two weeks and even he knew that Buffy was not into Riley's advances.

"Yes?" Buffy asked.

"I like you. And I think you like me. And I know we should go out on Saturday night," Riley said, sounding sure of himself.

Angel snorted and earned a glare from Riley.

"Riley," Buffy sighed, giving him a small smile. "Look, you're really sweet, but I'm not looking to date anyone right now."

Angel tensed as Riley's eyes darkened with anger.

"Oh come on Buffy, that's a load of bullshit. I know you went out with the director's assistant a few weeks ago," Riley snapped. Buffy frowned, leaning away from him.

"Uh, no, I didn't. Our director doesn't even have an assistant."

"Whatever. Go out with me."

"No," Buffy said. "I'm sorry, Riley, but no."

Riley began to stand up, his face flushed and angry.

Angel stepped in and yanked him up, growling as he stepped in close. "Let's go," he hissed. Angel dragged a cursing Riley to the door and stopped just outside.

"Get your damn hands off me!" Riley shouted, drawing the attention of onlookers. Angel reached up and quieted him with a hand squeezing his throat.

"Listen up, boy. Leave Buffy alone or I swear to God you'll wish you had."

Riley yanked out of his grip, stumbling a little.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm her bodyguard. Get out and don't let me catch you within one hundred feet of Buffy Summers again."

Riley shook his head and backed down the sidewalk, unwilling to take his eyes off of Angel just yet.

"You won't be around forever man. And I know she's into me. You'll see."