*^*^*^*
Part Seven - INTERLUDE
*^*^*^*
*/*Angel*/*
I'd forgotten how incredibly beautiful she is.
I woke at just past 6am, and found myself, upon my immediate awakening, unable to place the scent of Sam's perfume, which hung heavily in the air. It smelled foreign to me, strange and unknown, not entirely unpleasant, but... wrong, in a way I didn't quite understand. I'd left the bed feeling unsettled, after bending to kiss Sam's forehead as I did every morning, but finding myself quite unable to actually do so.
I padded into the kitchen after hurriedly dressing in a pair of worn black jeans and a grey sweater, running a frustrated hand through my bed-mussed hair, glancing out the window at the newborn day -- and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her.
She's a creature of magnificence and elegance; every move she makes is filled with deadly grace and agility. She's a weapon, and a woman, and a heart, and a soul, all wrapped up in an amazingly tantalising package and stamped with that guarantee of individuality. She's Buffy, she's the slayer, she's extraordinary.
I'd always known that about her; from the moment I saw her, saw her heart, shining brilliantly through everything that tried to choke it down and damp it out, but that morning, when I saw her, in my own garden, slipping and sliding and stretching her body in such a delectable way... I froze in the presence of such perfection, like a humble servant in the face of the most supreme of goddesses. All I could do was stand, and stare, noting the way the sun seemed to shine off her sweat covered body, the way her damp blonde hair fell in her eyes, the tempting curve of her lips as she sang along to her walkman... All I could do was stare.
I was still watching her when I heard Sam get up almost an hour later.
*^*^*^*^*
I think that if the Angel of about 8 years ago, the one with the demon and the curse and the all-too-sharp pain of loneliness met me now, he'd probably attempt to kill me immediately. Really. All that pain and suffering to be with her, to be *near* her, and when it came to the point that I could finally be around her, love her, kiss her, make love to her the way I always wanted to, I went off and found some other woman to cherish... I had a chance that he never had, and I didn't take the risks.
Actually, screw the 'killing me immediately' thing. He'd torture me for hours, first.
It's not that he wouldn't like Sam, I think he would. It just never occurred to him that there were women in the world *apart* from our Buffy - funny, I can't even think of her belonging solely to another being, even when that being is essentially me - apart from blonde hair and big eyes and such a beautiful soul... I don't think he'd ever consider settling for friendship, and I really don't think he'd even consider staying away from her if he got that chance. That human, curseless, love-in-the-sunshine chance.
Yep. He'd torture me for sure.
*^*^*^*^*
//end of interlude//
When Sam came back into the kitchen, Angel and I were sitting at the kitchen table; a strange awkwardness descending over us that hadn't been present the day before.
Maybe it had something to do with me being still half-dressed - which is the same as half-naked - from my workout.
Maybe it had something to with the fact that we'd woken up, and the whole situation had been proven real.
So, anyway, Sam came back into the room about 5 minutes after she left, the doorbell ringers in tow, chatting happily. I sat stiffly for a moment, wondering if anyone was going to remember me and make the introductions that I so sorely needed.
I kind of have this thing about meeting Angel's friends, new or old; about 50% of them try to kill me. Seriously, I worked it out. Used an equation and everything.
I can't believe I just admitted that.
It was Angel who first realised that I was sitting silently in confusion, glancing back and forth between everyone in the kitchen. Guess he was still hyperaware of me when I panicked.
He leaned over, close to me, and I felt a rush of dizziness as he spoke in hushed tones. "You don't have to worry about them," he told me softly, and my heart fluttered because he knew me so well.
"You know me," I murmured back, "hard to trust people. Especially strangers."
He nodded, his lips tightening for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, "Guys, this is an old friend of mine, Buffy. Buffy, meet Sara and Brendan. Brendan works for me."
"Heh - you know I'm just lulling you into a sense of false security before I conquer your nation," Brendan said lazily, but I barely heard him as I turned abruptly to Angel.
"You work? Like, with a job?"
Angel's face twitched a little, and he gazed at me sensibly, "What did you think I would be doing?"
"I don't know, just... not working. You're not business-man-guy, you're sitting-around-in-your-mansion-reading-multi-lingual-novels-and-brooding-guy."
"Mansion?" Samantha echoed in surprise, but neither Angel nor I replied.
Angel snickered, "I own some restaurants and clubs."
I stared at him, unable to process, and then auto-whine kicked in. "God, am I the *only* Scooby who isn't excelling at something? Thank god I've got Oz, or it'd just be li'l ol' secretary slacker me."
"Scooby?" Samantha repeated, lost.
"You're hardly a slacker, Buffy," Angel said softly, with sadness in his eyes - sadness for *me*, pity for *me*, and I suddenly wanted to throw up the bottle of water I'd just guzzled.
I sighed, sat back, noticed the confused gazes of the people around me for the first time, and smiled wryly, "Long stories."
Sara was just a tad taller than me, and a fair bit heavier - not that she was *fat*, or anything, I mean, I'm pretty scrawny - with copper red hair and a happy demeanour. She and Brendan were siblings, apparently. She wore an ivy-green silk shirt and flared blue jeans, and seemed completely at ease in her surroundings. I liked her, but I was jolted with a burning pain, because once, Angel and I were the only people who were comfortable in his home. I swallowed stiffly, pushing my self-pity, my longing, away, focussing on the present. Angel's present.
Brendan was tall, but shorter than Angel, with slightly darker copper-brown hair, and twinkling green eyes and a lopsided smile. He was lanky and goofy, and I had the feeling that he was the type to spin girls a hundred lines, win them over completely, and then lose interest once the chase was over. I felt a little uncomfortable with the appraising look he gave me, still decked out in my workout gear. He smiled flirtatiously at me, and when he turned away I saw him raise his eyebrows at Angel and grin in that conspiratorial-guy-stuff way...
I couldn't help but feel that same old girly satisfaction at the dark look that slid over Angel's face the moment Brendan looked away, and I knew if he'd still had the demon inside of him, he would have growled.
So what if he doesn't have the right to be jealous anymore? I freely give him permission, no matter how pathetic that makes me.
I'm quite used to being pathetic, thank you very much.
I looked around the room, and felt this incredible sense of misplacement. They'd built a natural dynamic between them, just more evidence of Angel's distance from me. I didn't really know how to interact with them.
So, for the moment, I chose not to.
"I'm all sweaty," I said casually.
"Yes you are." Brendan said, leering at me a little.
I ignored the shivers that went down my spine. From watching him, I thought it was possible that I could like him, if he'd just stop undressing me with his eyes.
"I'm going to go have a shower," I excused myself, "It's nice to meet you."
I walked out of the room, and realised I had absolutely no idea where the shower was.
I leaned in the kitchen door, blushing. "Uh, Angel?"
He turned his head, studied me with his familiar eyes.
"Where's the shower?"
*^*^*^*^*
He could have just told me, but, ever the gentleman, he left the kitchen with me, collecting a large fluffy navy towel from the linen closet on our way.
"Sorry about Brendan," he said, not looking at me.
"It's okay," I responded, oh-so-innocently, "He's actually kinda cute."
I knew I shouldn't be pushing Angel's jealousy buttons, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I felt like I was seventeen again.
//Actually, I do have a date. Older man. Very handsome...likes it when I call him *Daddy*//
Angel sighed and grabbed my elbow. "Look, I just... He's got commitment issues. He'll only hurt you."
I couldn't help but be amused, and I let the smirk show on my face.
"You're playing with me again, aren't you?"
"He's *so* not my type. I don't need a fuck buddy. I have slaying."
"Fuck Buddy. Romantic."
"Well, I'm not looking for a relationship. Anything I had with a guy would just be...meaningless sex. I've done that before, and it just left me feeling like shit."
I can't believe I was speaking so frankly to him about my sex life. The one I used to have with other people.
I don't think he quite believed it either, because there was silence for a few moments before he spoke again.
"Why aren't you looking for a relationship?" he asked quietly, and I detected a hint of guilt as he opened the bathroom door for me.
Pausing in the doorway, I turned and smiled sadly at him.
We both knew why.
Part Seven - INTERLUDE
*^*^*^*
*/*Angel*/*
I'd forgotten how incredibly beautiful she is.
I woke at just past 6am, and found myself, upon my immediate awakening, unable to place the scent of Sam's perfume, which hung heavily in the air. It smelled foreign to me, strange and unknown, not entirely unpleasant, but... wrong, in a way I didn't quite understand. I'd left the bed feeling unsettled, after bending to kiss Sam's forehead as I did every morning, but finding myself quite unable to actually do so.
I padded into the kitchen after hurriedly dressing in a pair of worn black jeans and a grey sweater, running a frustrated hand through my bed-mussed hair, glancing out the window at the newborn day -- and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her.
She's a creature of magnificence and elegance; every move she makes is filled with deadly grace and agility. She's a weapon, and a woman, and a heart, and a soul, all wrapped up in an amazingly tantalising package and stamped with that guarantee of individuality. She's Buffy, she's the slayer, she's extraordinary.
I'd always known that about her; from the moment I saw her, saw her heart, shining brilliantly through everything that tried to choke it down and damp it out, but that morning, when I saw her, in my own garden, slipping and sliding and stretching her body in such a delectable way... I froze in the presence of such perfection, like a humble servant in the face of the most supreme of goddesses. All I could do was stand, and stare, noting the way the sun seemed to shine off her sweat covered body, the way her damp blonde hair fell in her eyes, the tempting curve of her lips as she sang along to her walkman... All I could do was stare.
I was still watching her when I heard Sam get up almost an hour later.
*^*^*^*^*
I think that if the Angel of about 8 years ago, the one with the demon and the curse and the all-too-sharp pain of loneliness met me now, he'd probably attempt to kill me immediately. Really. All that pain and suffering to be with her, to be *near* her, and when it came to the point that I could finally be around her, love her, kiss her, make love to her the way I always wanted to, I went off and found some other woman to cherish... I had a chance that he never had, and I didn't take the risks.
Actually, screw the 'killing me immediately' thing. He'd torture me for hours, first.
It's not that he wouldn't like Sam, I think he would. It just never occurred to him that there were women in the world *apart* from our Buffy - funny, I can't even think of her belonging solely to another being, even when that being is essentially me - apart from blonde hair and big eyes and such a beautiful soul... I don't think he'd ever consider settling for friendship, and I really don't think he'd even consider staying away from her if he got that chance. That human, curseless, love-in-the-sunshine chance.
Yep. He'd torture me for sure.
*^*^*^*^*
//end of interlude//
When Sam came back into the kitchen, Angel and I were sitting at the kitchen table; a strange awkwardness descending over us that hadn't been present the day before.
Maybe it had something to do with me being still half-dressed - which is the same as half-naked - from my workout.
Maybe it had something to with the fact that we'd woken up, and the whole situation had been proven real.
So, anyway, Sam came back into the room about 5 minutes after she left, the doorbell ringers in tow, chatting happily. I sat stiffly for a moment, wondering if anyone was going to remember me and make the introductions that I so sorely needed.
I kind of have this thing about meeting Angel's friends, new or old; about 50% of them try to kill me. Seriously, I worked it out. Used an equation and everything.
I can't believe I just admitted that.
It was Angel who first realised that I was sitting silently in confusion, glancing back and forth between everyone in the kitchen. Guess he was still hyperaware of me when I panicked.
He leaned over, close to me, and I felt a rush of dizziness as he spoke in hushed tones. "You don't have to worry about them," he told me softly, and my heart fluttered because he knew me so well.
"You know me," I murmured back, "hard to trust people. Especially strangers."
He nodded, his lips tightening for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, "Guys, this is an old friend of mine, Buffy. Buffy, meet Sara and Brendan. Brendan works for me."
"Heh - you know I'm just lulling you into a sense of false security before I conquer your nation," Brendan said lazily, but I barely heard him as I turned abruptly to Angel.
"You work? Like, with a job?"
Angel's face twitched a little, and he gazed at me sensibly, "What did you think I would be doing?"
"I don't know, just... not working. You're not business-man-guy, you're sitting-around-in-your-mansion-reading-multi-lingual-novels-and-brooding-guy."
"Mansion?" Samantha echoed in surprise, but neither Angel nor I replied.
Angel snickered, "I own some restaurants and clubs."
I stared at him, unable to process, and then auto-whine kicked in. "God, am I the *only* Scooby who isn't excelling at something? Thank god I've got Oz, or it'd just be li'l ol' secretary slacker me."
"Scooby?" Samantha repeated, lost.
"You're hardly a slacker, Buffy," Angel said softly, with sadness in his eyes - sadness for *me*, pity for *me*, and I suddenly wanted to throw up the bottle of water I'd just guzzled.
I sighed, sat back, noticed the confused gazes of the people around me for the first time, and smiled wryly, "Long stories."
Sara was just a tad taller than me, and a fair bit heavier - not that she was *fat*, or anything, I mean, I'm pretty scrawny - with copper red hair and a happy demeanour. She and Brendan were siblings, apparently. She wore an ivy-green silk shirt and flared blue jeans, and seemed completely at ease in her surroundings. I liked her, but I was jolted with a burning pain, because once, Angel and I were the only people who were comfortable in his home. I swallowed stiffly, pushing my self-pity, my longing, away, focussing on the present. Angel's present.
Brendan was tall, but shorter than Angel, with slightly darker copper-brown hair, and twinkling green eyes and a lopsided smile. He was lanky and goofy, and I had the feeling that he was the type to spin girls a hundred lines, win them over completely, and then lose interest once the chase was over. I felt a little uncomfortable with the appraising look he gave me, still decked out in my workout gear. He smiled flirtatiously at me, and when he turned away I saw him raise his eyebrows at Angel and grin in that conspiratorial-guy-stuff way...
I couldn't help but feel that same old girly satisfaction at the dark look that slid over Angel's face the moment Brendan looked away, and I knew if he'd still had the demon inside of him, he would have growled.
So what if he doesn't have the right to be jealous anymore? I freely give him permission, no matter how pathetic that makes me.
I'm quite used to being pathetic, thank you very much.
I looked around the room, and felt this incredible sense of misplacement. They'd built a natural dynamic between them, just more evidence of Angel's distance from me. I didn't really know how to interact with them.
So, for the moment, I chose not to.
"I'm all sweaty," I said casually.
"Yes you are." Brendan said, leering at me a little.
I ignored the shivers that went down my spine. From watching him, I thought it was possible that I could like him, if he'd just stop undressing me with his eyes.
"I'm going to go have a shower," I excused myself, "It's nice to meet you."
I walked out of the room, and realised I had absolutely no idea where the shower was.
I leaned in the kitchen door, blushing. "Uh, Angel?"
He turned his head, studied me with his familiar eyes.
"Where's the shower?"
*^*^*^*^*
He could have just told me, but, ever the gentleman, he left the kitchen with me, collecting a large fluffy navy towel from the linen closet on our way.
"Sorry about Brendan," he said, not looking at me.
"It's okay," I responded, oh-so-innocently, "He's actually kinda cute."
I knew I shouldn't be pushing Angel's jealousy buttons, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I felt like I was seventeen again.
//Actually, I do have a date. Older man. Very handsome...likes it when I call him *Daddy*//
Angel sighed and grabbed my elbow. "Look, I just... He's got commitment issues. He'll only hurt you."
I couldn't help but be amused, and I let the smirk show on my face.
"You're playing with me again, aren't you?"
"He's *so* not my type. I don't need a fuck buddy. I have slaying."
"Fuck Buddy. Romantic."
"Well, I'm not looking for a relationship. Anything I had with a guy would just be...meaningless sex. I've done that before, and it just left me feeling like shit."
I can't believe I was speaking so frankly to him about my sex life. The one I used to have with other people.
I don't think he quite believed it either, because there was silence for a few moments before he spoke again.
"Why aren't you looking for a relationship?" he asked quietly, and I detected a hint of guilt as he opened the bathroom door for me.
Pausing in the doorway, I turned and smiled sadly at him.
We both knew why.
