Just Human, Chapter 8: TENTATIVE STEPS

When Angel finally stood in front of Buffy's apartment door, he couldn't
remember having ever been so nervous before. It had started with the right
choice of clothes, something Angel usually didn't have a problem with, but
all of a sudden he found himself rummaging through his bag, trying to figure
out what was appropriate to wear to a dinner with a grown up woman and her
kids.

In the end he'd called Cordelia and clenched his teeth at her uncontrolled
laughter. He'd gotten so annoyed that she had managed to calm down enough to
assure him he was fine no matter what he wore. "Angel," she'd said, "Relax.
Buffy might not be older than you, but I'm sure she looks older. She will be
much more concerned about how *she* looks."

He'd muttered then that Buffy looked fine and a groan had been his answer.
He had to grin, imagining Cordelia rolling her eyes at his comment. "You're
blind where Buffy is concerned. You always were. Remember that night when
she showed up after slayage at the Bronze? She looked really... well, I'm
not even going to comment on it. Let's just say, I was ready to hit you when
you couldn't stop talking about her the whole night. And *I* bought you a
Cappuccino and had to listen to your tales of wonderful, beautiful Buffy."

They'd laughed on the phone and Cordelia had assured him again that he'd
just dress the way he usually did and he would be fine.

So here he was wearing dark slacks and a white shirt with a dark jacket. No
tie though. He hated ties and the few times when he had to wear one
professionally had been torture enough. Besides, Cordelia had once mentioned
he wasn't the type for ties and tonight he wanted to look his best.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the doorbell and rang it. Only a moment
later he heard fast footsteps as if someone was running towards the door. It
opened and he was looking into Ben's face and Marlie was peaking at Angel
from the back. "Hi," the boy beamed, then grimaced when he heard his mother
scolding him for just opening the door. Then Buffy appeared behind her
children and Angel forgot how to breathe for a moment.

She was a vision. Or maybe it was just him. It wasn't that she was dressed
up or something. She wore red slacks and a white blouse, both protected by
an apron because she was obviously cooking. It had to be the heat from the
oven that had made her face all flushed and glowing. Just the way it
probably would in the aftermath of lovemaking and Angel felt slightly more
aroused than he should be.

"Hi," she greeted him and smiled. It was the first really genuine smile
she'd given him and he felt his insides flutter.

"Hi," he returned the greeting, then looked down at the kids. "Hey, Ben.
Marlie. Good to see you."

"Come in," Buffy invited, ushering the children inside to make room for him.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, leading him inside, "the food isn't ready yet.
Ben and I had a little discussion about how to make his room presentable.
We... uh... let's just say our ideas on how it should look in the end were
slightly different." She gave her son a sideways glance and he grinned.

Angel had to hide his own urge to grin, "I see," he said instead and
followed her towards the kitchen. Without looking at him she went for the
oven to stir what looked like some sauce.

It took him by surprise to see her like that. The Buffy he had known was a
slayer, a girl fighting evil, strong in body and soul and to see the woman,
she'd become, doing something as simple as cooking, was... well, he had to
admit, it was amazing. Maybe it was his 18th century upbringing, but he
wasn't sure, maybe it was just so completely unexpected to see that side of
her, the fact that she was a mother and was caring for her family.

Obviously she had sensed his surprise, because she turned around and asked,
"What?"

"Uh... sorry?"

"You were staring at me," she explained, "So I was wondering about the
reason. And I would appreciate if you wouldn't say it was because you hadn't
expected me to grow that old," she joked, but the lightness she tried to
give her voice, was betrayed by the anxiousness in it.

"No," Angel said quickly, leaning against the doorway, "it's just that...
you and cooking, it's not something I ever thought about."

"Uh-huh," she replied and he heard the amusement in her voice. "Angel. I
have three children. Of course I have to cook. Joyce doesn't eat a lot
usually. She's like all teenagers, always afraid she'd gain a pound, but Ben
is a completely different matter." She looked back again and grinned,
"Talking about the kids," she said and nodded towards a spot beside Angel.

When the ex-vampire turned his head, he saw Ben and Marlie standing beside
him, their heads tilted upward, watching him. "Hey, you two," he said and
crouched down to be eye to eye with the little girl. "How are you? All
better?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded and grinned, "I gotta go home yesterday. With Mommy."
She said the last word with so much force that Buffy felt tears sting in her
eyes. But she firmly pushed the guilt away. There was no use in dwelling
over what happened for the last six months. She had to look forward, not
blame herself for her mistakes. They were done and all she could do was move
on and try to make up for what her children had missed for a while.

"That's good," Angel smiled at her. He reached out and gently touched the
spot above the place where her appendix had once been. "And it doesn't hurt
anymore?" he asked.

"Uh-uh," she replied, shaking her head. "But I have to go back and get the
switches out."

"You get the stitches out," Ben interrupted with the wise voice of the older
brother. "Next week she has to go back, but only for a little while and she
can come back the same day," he added quickly, seeing that his sister's
lower lip had started to tremble. At his last words her face lit up though.

"Yeah," she agreed and because the ex-vampire was standing again, she tugged
at his sleeve, then looked at her mother, "Mom, can I show Angel my room?"

"Sure, go on. But ask him first, if he even wants too," Buffy replied with a
smile.

"Do you want to?" Marlie looked up at Angel, her eyes round and pleading, so
that the ex-vampire's insides went to mush. How could you look at the little
girl and not immediately fall in love?

"Of course," he said and smiled, holding out his hand for her and she took
it eagerly, pulling him towards her room.

Ben followed slowly and grumbled, "It's just a girl's room."

"It is not," Marlie shot back, pulling Angel a bit harder with her.

"Is too," her brother replied, irrationally jealous about the way his sister
had gotten the man's attention.

"Well, it has to be," Angel tried to mediate between them. When Marlie
stopped and looked up at him, as did Ben, he continued, "Marlie is a girl.
Of course it's a girl's room. It wouldn't make much sense if it was a boy's
room, would it?"

Marlie brightened instantly, then stuck out her tongue at her brother, but
beamed at Angel, "I'm a girl," she confirmed proudly. "Now come on," she
urged. "I got some new stuffed animals. Uncle Xander brought one and aunt
Tara and..." her voice faded when she went for her room, Angel in her tow.

Ben stayed in the hallway listening to their conversation for a moment, and
then he turned and went for his own room. Maybe he should change one or two
things and then, when Angel was through with his sister he could come and
see his room next.

*

Buffy smiled to herself seeing her children with Angel, and then paused for
a moment, stunned. She hadn't felt a second of guilt at the picture. Angel
was in her apartment, charming her kids, Riley's kids, and she couldn't help
but be enchanted by the picture. She knew there had to be many reasons why
this was wrong. Yet, she couldn't help but feel it was right. It felt right.

"It is right. Why shouldn't it? They like him a lot and why shouldn't they.
He's charming. And good looking."

Buffy almost jumped out of her skin, and without turning she knew who had
talked to her, "Mom," she said, a bit accusingly. "You have to stop doing
that. You might not believe it, but those surprises can cause heart
attacks." She turned then and spotted the ghost of her mother floating in
the doorway.

Joyce waved an impatient hand, "Nonsense," she said. "It's not your time
yet. Not by a long shot." As if suddenly realizing what she'd revealed, she
shook her head, "You look better," she remarked then.

"Thanks," her daughter said ironically, "I suppose that's meant to be a
compliment, although after the way I looked the last times you came, I'm not
quite sure."

"It wasn't a compliment. Just an observation. And I can see you haven't
started drinking again."

"No, I haven't," Buffy, confirmed. "Although the urge is there. All the
time."

"Of course it is," Joyce said gently, floating inside, settling at the edge
of the kitchen table. "I'm glad you jumped over your shadow and invited him
for dinner." She saw her daughter raise a brow and asked, "What?"

"I thought you could read my thoughts," Buffy replied, turning back to her
oven.

"Only if I choose to," her mother said. "And I'm only doing it if I think it's
necessary."

"Oh, I see," the younger woman said sarcastically, and then sighed, not
willing to fight with her mother tonight. "It's just," she gestured with the
wooden spoon she was holding in her right hand, "you never liked Angel. Back
when you were alive."

"That's not true," Joyce defended herself. "The problem was, I was your
mother and you were barely 16 when you first brought him to our house. You
have a daughter at the same age now. How would you feel if she brought an
older man to your apartment you didn't even know she was seeing?"

Buffy grimaced, "Point taken," she said.

"And then, when I knew what you were and what he was," Mrs. Summers sighed,
"I had a hard time accepting the fact that you had that sacred duty and that
I couldn't protect you the way a mother is meant to. You have no idea how
hard that is," she paused for a moment, and then added thoughtfully, "Or you
probably have now."

"Yeah," her daughter replied, "I probably have."

"But coming back to your initial question," Joyce went on. "I actually liked
Angel. I thought he had very good manners. And a man as good-looking as he
is would charm any woman in her right mind. He was even a charmer when he
was what you call evil."

"Mom!" Buffy exclaimed staring at her mother with a mixture of horror and
amusement. "I can't believe it," she muttered then, turning back to the
oven. "I'm discussing Angel's looks with my mother. Gee, I'm discussing with
my mother. My mother who died 20 years ago." She shook her head and
concentrated on stirring the sauce.

"Who are you talking to?"

Buffy jumped and turning, she found Angel standing in the doorway again. The
ghost of her mother, though, was gone. She stared at him for a moment, then
caught herself, "I... uh... just to myself," she managed finally. "It's a
bad habit, I know, but," she shrugged, "it helps sometimes."

To her surprise, he nodded, "It does."

"Where are the kids?" she asked.

"In their rooms," he grinned. "After thoroughly inspecting Marlie's and
being introduced to all her pets and toys," he laughed when he heard Buffy
groan. "It wasn't that bad. She's charming. You have a wonderful daughter."

"Thanks," she said softly, and smiled at him.

"Anyways. After that, Ben insisted on showing me his room as well. So I did.
He showed me his electric train."

"Ah," Buffy nodded knowingly. "And you managed to escape that soon?"

He laughed again, and Buffy couldn't help to be amazed by the change in his
attitude. Yes, he was still the Angel, she knew. But he was different as
well. And it intrigued her to know more about this amazing man who had
managed to capture her heart in a dark alley behind the Bronze so many years
ago. Shocked about her own thoughts, she stiffened and turned back to her
cooking.

Angel sensed her withdrawl and for a moment wondered what had caused it, but
answered her question lightly, "He's looking for his basketball now," he
said. "I promised we would play. If that's okay with you?"

She didn't dare to look at him, "Sure," she just said. "He's going to
love it."

The ex-vampire watched her thoughtfully, not quite sure how to go on from
there. She was suddenly far away, completely out of his reach, where she had
been friendly and open only seconds ago. Fortunately he was saved by Ben's
arrival, the ball tucked firmly under his arm, he looked at Angel
expectantly. With a last glance at Buffy's back, the ex-Vampire nodded at
the boy and two went down to the street.

*

"I couldn't help but notice that Joyce wasn't around," Angel remarked,
trying to sound as casual as possible.

He and Buffy were sitting beside each other on seats in the living room.
Dinner had been noisy with Ben and Marlie chatting all the time, so that the
fact, that their mother had hardly spoken a word, had almost gone unnoticed.

Almost.

Angel of course had noticed it and kept wondering what had happened or what
he had done or said to cause the change in her attitude. He was desperately
trying to find a way to loosen her up again, but it had been in vain. After
dinner, she and kids had cleaned the table, refused to let him help because
he was the guest, and when the kids were safely tucked in their beds, she
had politely asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee.

He'd been inclined to refuse, sensing that she wasn't comfortable about the
thought of being alone with him again, but the urge not to leave her the way
she was at the moment, tense and stiff, had made him accept it.

She looked up quickly now, and then turned her gaze back to her coffee,
"She... decided to stay with Willow and Tara." She shrugged, "It's no big
deal, really. She's almost grown up. If she wants to stay with them..." she
trailed off, shrugged again.

Angel's heart clenched painfully in his chest, feeling her pain like it was
his own. She had tried to sound relaxed about the fact that her daughter had
refused coming home. But Angel felt how hurt she was, that her daughter
obviously didn't trust her anymore. For a parent, he assumed, that had to be
almost the worst punishment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, meaning it with all his heart. And a part of
him, maybe the part that was still vampire, although he was thoroughly human
now, wanted to get the teenager and punish her for causing her mother more
pain. Buffy had gone through a lot recently, hell, all her life, and in
Angel's eyes she earned all the happiness she could get.

"Thanks," she glanced at him again. Then in an attempt to change the
subject, she said, "You've changed." She gestured at him with a
self-conscious smile, "Not on the outside, but... I can feel it. You're
lighter."

"Comes with the daylight, I suppose," he replied.

"You seem not to blame yourself anymore," she said, "Before, you know, when
you were still a vampire, you almost beat yourself up with guilt. I can't
imagine that changing just because you're human all of a sudden. Something
must have happened."

He smiled when he saw her looking at him expectantly. Gradually she was
coming out of her shell again, "I've given the whole thing a lot of thought
over the years, Buffy. I know that Cordelia or Willow or even you thought it
was easy. With a soul I was good, without," he shrugged, smiled a bit
sheepishly, "not. But it's much more complicated. Darla once said that the
same love or hate that was with us while we were alive was with us as
vampires as well. And it's true up to a certain point. Although not
completely.

"I believed it for a while. She could sound very convincing at times. But I
had to remind myself that she was a vampire herself when she said it. So her
sight of things was... biased, at best. With the soul, the conscience is
gone. The caring is gone. And there can't be love without caring for another
person. So it isn't love that stays with a vampire it's... lust, or rather
passion. It's often more intense because it's unrestrained."

"You mean there's no guilt," she asked, listening intently.

He nodded, "Yes, that's right. No guilt. And with this, as a side effect so
to speak, the caring isn't needed. A vampire doesn't care what another
person, another vampire thinks of him. It isn't important, because another
person's feelings are of no consequence for him. At least, as long as it
doesn't concern himself.

"I once told you, it's an easy way to live. And it is. It's carefree. A
vampire doesn't even think about death. Not its own anyway. There's no fear,
no love, no guilt. It's even lower than the lowest animal because they at
least care for their young. They care for their group or their partner too
in some species. The vampire doesn't. Yes, he cares for his sire, but in a
very twisted sort of way. It's like an invisible bond, but believe me. If
his life was in danger he would sacrifice the sire in a flash. And he
wouldn't think about it twice.

"But as I said before. There are emotions ruling a person, or the demon that
invades the person after one is turned. And the more issues a person carries
around the more vicious the demon gets. With a soul those issues, those
emotions are controlled. They might brake through now or then, but still,"
he stopped for a moment, considered his next words. "I had a lot of issues.
Especially with my father. So it was no wonder my demon went after my
family, my village, first. I needed a long time to get rid of the feeling
that if I hadn't resented my father, my demon wouldn't have gone after him."

Almost unconsciously Buffy reached out and put a hand on his arm, "Angel-"
she started, but he shook his head.

"No. I've come around. I've accepted that it wasn't just my fault. My father
made mistakes too. But by killing him my demon took all his chances to maybe
change his ways and see his errors. I will never know if we would've found a
way to forgive each other. But I know that I can't go on living with this
kind of uncertainty inside of me. I finally accepted the fact that some
issues in life have to stay unresolved. You have to move on sooner or
later."

She pulled her hand back, took her cup instead, as if to need something to
prevent herself from reaching out again. His words held a lot of truth. Some
of it was hitting a little too close to home for her comfort. Still, her
face wore an expression of amazement, "You've come a long way, haven't you?"
When she saw him smile, she smiled back, "It's... good," she said
tentatively. "I always wondered how you might be without carrying all this
guilt around."

"Oh, don't think that," he replied, putting his cup down. "The guilt is
still there. I just found a way to live with it, and not to let it rule me
anymore. It doesn't go away. No matter how hard you try. But you accept it
as a part of yourself. Or at least that's what I did."

She felt his eyes on her when he said it, knew that he was watching her
intently. Oh God, she thought in panic, putting her cup down, afraid she'd
drop it, her hand was suddenly shaky. Had he guessed it? Did he know? And
why shouldn't he, who knew more about guilt than Angel. Never in her life
she had met a more sensitive person, or a person who could look through
another in a second. And he knew her. He could probably guess...

"I'm sure Joyce will come around."

Her head jerked up and after staring at him for a moment, she released a
pent up breath, desperately trying to hide the panic that was threatening to
consume her. "I hope," she managed and tried to smile.

"Buffy," he began, his eyes intense, and she felt the sudden urge to run and
hide from him. Then he seemed to consider the situation for a moment and
took a deep breath, "I think it's late. Maybe I'd better leave."

"What?" She stared at him as if she wasn't able to comprehend.

"It's after ten," he said gently, "After all you've been through you need
your sleep."

She laughed a bit too brightly, but nevertheless grateful he had changed the
subject, "Is this a nice way of saying I don't need any more wrinkles?" she
joked.

"Of course not." He seemed so honestly shocked by her words that she had to
smile and this time it was genuine. "You must know that you will always look
beautiful, no matter what."

She felt warmth spread through her whole being at his words, but pushed it
away, still too much in turmoil about her mixed emotions. "Hardly the
compliment I was fishing for," she joked again. Then sighed, "Oh, well, it
will have to do." She stood and he did the same. Escorting him to the door,
she said, "I'm glad you came."

"Me too," he replied warmly, and she knew he meant it. "Maybe we could do it
again. Some day. Maybe lunch... if you want," he asked cautiously, feeling
almost breathless waiting for her answer.

"I..." again, as she had done it in the park, she seemed to think about her
answer for a moment. In the end she smiled, "Yes, I'd like that," she said
and opened the door for him.

He stepped out, then turned and caught her hand in his. Slowly he pulled it
toward his mouth and when his lips were merely inches away, he whispered, "I
can hardly wait." Then he kissed it, softly, his lips lingering a bit longer
than necessary. When he finally let go, his voice was hoarse, "Sleep tight,"
he said, turned and was gone.

With a little sound of distress Buffy closed the door then just stood there
and pressed the hand he'd just kissed against her cheek. She closed her eyes
and swallowed hard. When she opened them again, a tear slipped from her eye
and tickled down her cheek. Without a doubt she knew that sleep wouldn't be
something she'd find tonight.

... to be continued