Chapter 5
Now Cordelia was riled. Buffy was a threat to the tranquillity she had worked so hard to achieve in their new place. Hadn't she put up with them in her apartment for a week, then cleaned this hotel top to bottom? Well, the ground floor anyway. She could see Angel didn't know what to do, whether to touch her arm or speak quietly or what. In his face he was questioning her being here, but at the same time it was overcome with longing... and pain.
Angel watched as Buffy swept in, her head held high, her confidence full. He had to stifle the desire to touch her, to hold her. She had a new life now; she was in college, sorting out her life, getting over him. Why was she here? Her presence cut through him deeply. He had hurt her very soul, left her when she needed him most, he had just walked away. He hadn't even said goodbye. Why was she here? Maybe it's a demon, he thought, that she needs help with. She could be visiting her father. He was searching for reasons, not wanting to admit to himself that she could have come to see him. No, no. Probably a demon, he thought.
"I came to see you," she said, "I miss you."
I miss you. The words cut through him like a knife in butter. How could she forgive him for what he had done to her? Buffy turned to him and stared silently at his tortured face. Inwardly she smiled, outwardly she made her very best concerned face. "Are you ok?" Silently Angel mulled over her words. Am I ok? Of course not. I hurt you, not the other way around. "Fine," he lied smoothly, "just fine." She smiled at him, and he melted. "Are you? I mean, are you...ok?" Angel suddenly felt embarrassed, Gunn, Wesley and Cordelia were transfixed on them, watching every move. Buffy felt it. "Come on," she ordered gently, taking his arm and pulling him towards the staircase. He stared in wonder at her touch, but gladly followed.
"Which is your room?" Buffy asked, and Angel stared at her, her question slowly registering in his brain. "The left," he said, pointing meekly. She guided him in, sat down next to him on the bed. As she ran her hand up his arm, Angel was suddenly struck with the inappropriate nature of the situation. They were in his room, no one but him was usually allowed in there. And Buffy was near him. She lay her head onto his arm. "Don't leave me again," she whispered, as she pulled him close, "please." Angel gasped as she moved to kiss him, tried desperately to stop himself responding, but he couldn't. He held her face as they kissed, held each other tightly. Angel melted into her embrace, but then jumped back, alarmed. Buffy stared at him questioningly. She felt...wrong. She smelt wrong. His senses told him that she wasn't Buffy, his eyes, his mind, his need told him otherwise. He backed away, unsure what to do. Her eyes stared at him, anger creeping in the sides. "What, what are you?" he asked, exasperated. The anger in her eyes grew. Then they changed, turned hard, cold, and red. "I'm your worst nightmare." She said.
Now Cordelia was riled. Buffy was a threat to the tranquillity she had worked so hard to achieve in their new place. Hadn't she put up with them in her apartment for a week, then cleaned this hotel top to bottom? Well, the ground floor anyway. She could see Angel didn't know what to do, whether to touch her arm or speak quietly or what. In his face he was questioning her being here, but at the same time it was overcome with longing... and pain.
Angel watched as Buffy swept in, her head held high, her confidence full. He had to stifle the desire to touch her, to hold her. She had a new life now; she was in college, sorting out her life, getting over him. Why was she here? Her presence cut through him deeply. He had hurt her very soul, left her when she needed him most, he had just walked away. He hadn't even said goodbye. Why was she here? Maybe it's a demon, he thought, that she needs help with. She could be visiting her father. He was searching for reasons, not wanting to admit to himself that she could have come to see him. No, no. Probably a demon, he thought.
"I came to see you," she said, "I miss you."
I miss you. The words cut through him like a knife in butter. How could she forgive him for what he had done to her? Buffy turned to him and stared silently at his tortured face. Inwardly she smiled, outwardly she made her very best concerned face. "Are you ok?" Silently Angel mulled over her words. Am I ok? Of course not. I hurt you, not the other way around. "Fine," he lied smoothly, "just fine." She smiled at him, and he melted. "Are you? I mean, are you...ok?" Angel suddenly felt embarrassed, Gunn, Wesley and Cordelia were transfixed on them, watching every move. Buffy felt it. "Come on," she ordered gently, taking his arm and pulling him towards the staircase. He stared in wonder at her touch, but gladly followed.
"Which is your room?" Buffy asked, and Angel stared at her, her question slowly registering in his brain. "The left," he said, pointing meekly. She guided him in, sat down next to him on the bed. As she ran her hand up his arm, Angel was suddenly struck with the inappropriate nature of the situation. They were in his room, no one but him was usually allowed in there. And Buffy was near him. She lay her head onto his arm. "Don't leave me again," she whispered, as she pulled him close, "please." Angel gasped as she moved to kiss him, tried desperately to stop himself responding, but he couldn't. He held her face as they kissed, held each other tightly. Angel melted into her embrace, but then jumped back, alarmed. Buffy stared at him questioningly. She felt...wrong. She smelt wrong. His senses told him that she wasn't Buffy, his eyes, his mind, his need told him otherwise. He backed away, unsure what to do. Her eyes stared at him, anger creeping in the sides. "What, what are you?" he asked, exasperated. The anger in her eyes grew. Then they changed, turned hard, cold, and red. "I'm your worst nightmare." She said.