Part Twelve
Moment of Weakness
There was a moment in which Angel and Buffy's eyes met, hazel to deep
brown, and Buffy saw the anguish in Angel's face. *Is that the way
I'm looking at him?* the thought came slowly to her. She could only
stare at him in disbelief, though. Trying to find the words.
"How long!" Buffy finally demanded angrily. "How long have you been
back!"
"I didn't want you to find out... like this," Angel said, looking at
her sadly.
"ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!" Buffy walked over to face him. She got a grip
on herself and stood waiting for his answer, but afraid she didn't
really want the truth.
"Since September," Angel answered softly.
"What?" Buffy couldn't believe her ears. "That's ... almost three
months."
"It was better that way," Angel shrugged, looking at her stoically.
His calmness sent her over the edge. "HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT!" she
shoved him, and he stumbled against the wall, but didn't try to
defend himself. "HOW COULD YOU GO ALL THIS TIME, LETTING ME THINK
THAT YOU WERE STILL IN HELL??!!" She started hitting him, she
couldn't stop. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was
hysterical, she felt the tears streaming down her face, but she
didn't care. "HOW IS THAT BETTER, ANGEL, TELL ME THAT! OR IS IT NOT
REALLY ABOUT THINGS BEING BETTER THE OTHER WAY??? WERE YOU TRYING TO
PUNISH ME? WERE YOU? BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!" She took a
shaky breath, and asked, more quietly, "Do you really hate me that
much?"
"What?" Angel gasped, with a horrified expression on his face. "How
could I ever hate you?" he questioned sadly. "The girl I loved -
love - more than anything?"
"Because I sent you to hell," she whispered, and broke down sobbing.
She clutched her arms around her waist and struggled for breath,
trying to pull herself together. But she couldn't, she felt like her
world was falling in around her. She looked up and saw the sadness in
his eyes, and it was too much. She felt her legs give way, and
grabbed at his shirt.
Angel grabbed her, around the waist, and then lifted her
effortlessly. She put her arms around his neck, and buried her face
in his neck, still crying uncontrollably. She felt him set her on the
couch and try to pull away, and she panicked. "No!" she refused to
let go of him. "Don't leave me!" she pleaded.
Angel looked down at her, and saw what she'd been reduced to, a
frightened girl who'd had too much pain and suffering for one person
to bear alone. "Ssh," he sat next to her and pulled her into his
lap. "It's okay. I'm here now. It's all right," he tried to soothe
her, one arm around her waist, the other hand stroking her hair
gently.
After what felt like hours, the tears began to subside. Buffy took a
few deep breaths, and finally lifted her head from his shoulder. She
looked into his eyes, and realized he too had been crying.
"You don't hate me?" she asked, slowly.
"No," Angel answered, kissing her forehead gently. He pulled away,
and gazed into her eyes. "I could never hate you, Buffy. You had to
choose, and I'm sorry that you were put in that position. You did the
right thing." He brushed his hand across her cheek lightly, and the
contact sent a feeling like an electic jolt through her body. She
knew by the look on his face that he felt it too. Before she realized
what was happening, he was kissing her, passionately and thoroughly.
His hands were cradling her face, fingers threaded into her hair.
They were both crying again, she knew it without seeing it.
When she realized what she was doing, she pushed him away. She saw
movement behind him and looked. Xander was standing in the doorway, a
devastated look on his face. "Sorry to interupt," he said, and then
he turned and ran outside.
*****
Moment of Weakness
There was a moment in which Angel and Buffy's eyes met, hazel to deep
brown, and Buffy saw the anguish in Angel's face. *Is that the way
I'm looking at him?* the thought came slowly to her. She could only
stare at him in disbelief, though. Trying to find the words.
"How long!" Buffy finally demanded angrily. "How long have you been
back!"
"I didn't want you to find out... like this," Angel said, looking at
her sadly.
"ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!" Buffy walked over to face him. She got a grip
on herself and stood waiting for his answer, but afraid she didn't
really want the truth.
"Since September," Angel answered softly.
"What?" Buffy couldn't believe her ears. "That's ... almost three
months."
"It was better that way," Angel shrugged, looking at her stoically.
His calmness sent her over the edge. "HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT!" she
shoved him, and he stumbled against the wall, but didn't try to
defend himself. "HOW COULD YOU GO ALL THIS TIME, LETTING ME THINK
THAT YOU WERE STILL IN HELL??!!" She started hitting him, she
couldn't stop. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was
hysterical, she felt the tears streaming down her face, but she
didn't care. "HOW IS THAT BETTER, ANGEL, TELL ME THAT! OR IS IT NOT
REALLY ABOUT THINGS BEING BETTER THE OTHER WAY??? WERE YOU TRYING TO
PUNISH ME? WERE YOU? BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!" She took a
shaky breath, and asked, more quietly, "Do you really hate me that
much?"
"What?" Angel gasped, with a horrified expression on his face. "How
could I ever hate you?" he questioned sadly. "The girl I loved -
love - more than anything?"
"Because I sent you to hell," she whispered, and broke down sobbing.
She clutched her arms around her waist and struggled for breath,
trying to pull herself together. But she couldn't, she felt like her
world was falling in around her. She looked up and saw the sadness in
his eyes, and it was too much. She felt her legs give way, and
grabbed at his shirt.
Angel grabbed her, around the waist, and then lifted her
effortlessly. She put her arms around his neck, and buried her face
in his neck, still crying uncontrollably. She felt him set her on the
couch and try to pull away, and she panicked. "No!" she refused to
let go of him. "Don't leave me!" she pleaded.
Angel looked down at her, and saw what she'd been reduced to, a
frightened girl who'd had too much pain and suffering for one person
to bear alone. "Ssh," he sat next to her and pulled her into his
lap. "It's okay. I'm here now. It's all right," he tried to soothe
her, one arm around her waist, the other hand stroking her hair
gently.
After what felt like hours, the tears began to subside. Buffy took a
few deep breaths, and finally lifted her head from his shoulder. She
looked into his eyes, and realized he too had been crying.
"You don't hate me?" she asked, slowly.
"No," Angel answered, kissing her forehead gently. He pulled away,
and gazed into her eyes. "I could never hate you, Buffy. You had to
choose, and I'm sorry that you were put in that position. You did the
right thing." He brushed his hand across her cheek lightly, and the
contact sent a feeling like an electic jolt through her body. She
knew by the look on his face that he felt it too. Before she realized
what was happening, he was kissing her, passionately and thoroughly.
His hands were cradling her face, fingers threaded into her hair.
They were both crying again, she knew it without seeing it.
When she realized what she was doing, she pushed him away. She saw
movement behind him and looked. Xander was standing in the doorway, a
devastated look on his face. "Sorry to interupt," he said, and then
he turned and ran outside.
*****
