Title: Catching up
Feedback: Of course I want to know what you think otherwise I'd hide it in a folder on my computer! Kristi@allengames.com
Disclaimer: They belong to Joss. If they were mine I'd be nicer to them! At least most of the time.
Spoilers: Only if you have lived in a cave and not seen any of Angel or Buffy.
Distribution: If you want it just ask!
Author's notes: The centered offset quotes are quotes pulled from the shows. I didn't write them, I didn't think of them. Also I wanted to thank everyone who sent me feedback! This is my first fanfic and it's very inspiring! If you'd like to see more of this story let me know!
Chapter Three
"Wow, so they just handed you the keys to this law firm along with everyone and everything in it?" Buffy asked. She looked stunned. Angel had spent the better part of a half hour telling her about Wolfram and Hart.
"Well, there were some conditions but basically, yes."
"What sort of conditions?" Buffy asked.
He should have known Buffy of all people couldn't let something go. He wanted to tell her. He longed to share his memories of his son with anyone, but especially someone who would care.
"About where Cordelia and your son are? Not a thing, but you could find out
in about 10 seconds. All you gotta do is pick up the phone, boss."-
-"Good. Just one more piece of business. I get to see him."-
-You're the boss. There'll be a limo waiting outside. It'll take you to
see Connor."-
-"Who's Connor."-
Buffy of all people would understand his decision. She'd made tough decisions for Dawn, like dying to save her. If it had been giving her to another family in order to give her a happier life, she would have done it.
But he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell anyone, ever. He thought about the other part of the deal he'd made with Lilah.
-"That nifty little bauble comes with the file. Apparently, it's crucial for some sort of final battle. Guess they're in short supply up Sunnydale
way. A bit gauche for me but hey, not a slayer."-
"The amulet I brought you in Sunnydale, and the file. They were one of my conditions." Angel said.
Buffy grew quiet. "The amulet that killed Spike, plus about a thousand ubervamps and made a crater of Sunnydale."
Oh, God, Spike. She didn't know he was alive. He'd figured Captain Peroxide would beat a path to the mailbox to send Buffy a letter. This really wasn't the time to discuss Spike, not that there was ever a good time in his estimation to discuss Spike. He promised himself he'd tell her, just not now.
She brightened and smiled at him. "So that was your condition, what about theirs?"
Angel shrugged. "We have to show a profit at the end of the year, which means I have to walk the line between good and evil a little closer now. We've done a lot of good already though."
In truth, there were days Angel felt like he helped evil more then he did good. He knew it wasn't true, there were reports and statistics and all sorts of "evidence" to the contrary. It didn't change the feeling any. There were days he straddled a chasm and fought not to fall into the black depths below. He looked up at the golden haired child/woman sitting next to him on the couch, so close he could reach out and touch her, and the chasm wasn't so wide or so deep.
She reached over to touch his hand. She'd forgotten how cool and perfect his skin was. Angel had remembered all to well how hot her touch was. She intertwined her fingers with his and they sat silently for a long while on the couch, watching the fire in the hearth consume everything within.
She stretched languidly. It took a moment for her to realize she wasn't in her own bed or even her own room. Her instincts drove her into slayer mode for a few seconds before her brain caught up and remembered Angel. She must have fallen asleep last night. He would have carried her and tucked her into bed without ever waking her.
She padded barefoot about the room, peeking into empty drawers. It took her all of five minutes to get bored in this room and move onto the hallway outside. The house was small. There was the cozy living room they had sat in last night. Embers of the fire still burned in the hearth. A galley sized kitchen with a breakfast nook was directly behind the living room. There was really very little in the cupboards. The refrigerator held a bottle of Irish whiskey and a plentiful stock of blood.
The only door she hadn't explored behind had to be Angel's bedroom. She eased it open softly, half expecting him to be gone. The room was so dark it was difficult to make out the shadows. Buffy waited a moment to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she could help the gasp of all the air in the room being stolen.
Angel lay on his back amid dark bed sheets. The top sheet was pulled down low around his hips. The darkness of the room and the bed only served to make the pale marble of his skin look more ethereal. He wasn't breathing, which while disturbing until you go used to it, was normal. During waking hours, Angel feigned breathing. It generally made the humans around him more comfortable. When he slept, truly and deeply, he forgot the habit of breathing and he looked more like a dead body then a living one, which she supposed he really was. To her he looked more like a statue carved from marble, something by Michelangelo, or the guy who had cut off his ear, or maybe it was his nose. She couldn't remember. During her short stint in college she'd taken an art class with Willow. Even then the statues in the pictures and slides had brought to mind Angel.
She slipped into a wing chair next to his bed and sat in the darkness watching him. A little more then four years ago, he had walked out on her and insisted she give up any ideas of any sort of future between them. Tears still sprang to her eyes at the memory of him disappearing into the smoke, as if the past three years had been nothing but a dream, nothing more substantial then the smoke he'd walked into.
-" I'm leaving. After the Ascension, after it's finished with the Mayor and
Faith. If we survive, I'll go."-
-"I'm not going to say goodbye. If we get through this, I'm just going to
go."-
She didn't realize she'd started crying until Angel was there crouched beside her.
"Buffy, what's wrong? What happened?"
She shook her head. "Nothing, really. Just-just old memories."
Old memories of him hurting her. He knew without asking that was the source of her tears. Maybe it was egotistical or maybe it was the tie that bound them soul to soul. The tie that allowed her to sense him, even when he was human on the Day that Wasn't. Whatever it was he knew her pain was for him.
-"You were born to hurt her. Have you learned nothing?"-
He stood up and pulled a dark shirt on. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Buffy."
She shot up out of the chair. "What wasn't a good idea Angel? We haven't even discussed anything remotely resembling a future. We haven't even kissed!You're running already? I think that's a record, even for you."
She turned and stalked out of the room, out of the house and into the daylight, where she knew he couldn't follow her.
He brooded around the house until it was a decent hour in Los Angeles and then called Wes.
"Wes, did you know Buffy was going to be here?" he asked abruptly.
"Buffy is there? In Galway?" Wes asked, truly surprised.
"I guess that's a no. Buffy is here. I ran into her last night. We talked."
"You didn't. I mean you still have you're-" Wes stammered.
"I'm not evil if that's what your asking. I just wondered if you knew she was here before I got here." Angel snapped.
"Angel, I would never presume to orchestrate such a thing. I have been in contact with Mr. Giles once or twice over the past few weeks but he never mentioned that Buffy was in Ireland, much less Galway."
"Thanks Wes, sorry to bother you with this." Angel closed the cell phone and paced the house like a caged animal, waiting for sunset. His first instinct was to go after Buffy. He knew there were other things he should be doing though, like finding more information on The Book of the Guardian. He had found precious little so far. Several people, and demons, had confirmed the books existence but they didn't know if it was still in Galway, or if it was where it might be.
He had to focus on the task at hand and for the moment that was finding the book. Perhaps it was better if Buffy left mad. He loved her. He would love her the rest of his very long life but unless he got his shanshu, during her lifetime, there was no chance of them ever having a future together. His curse made that impossible He knew she thought it about not being able to have sex with her, and yes that was a big part of it, but it was also just being with her. Sitting beside her on the couch the night before, listening to her laugh and talk and sound so much like the woman he'd fallen in love with he'd stopped once and made what he'd come to call his soul checks. He had to gage his happiness and make sure he wasn't to happy, that he wasn't approaching the perfect happiness threshold. It had been a daily activity that last year in Sunnydale. It had become an hourly one when Connor had been born.
When Connor had been taken he had been sure he'd never come close to perfect happiness again. A few moments with Buffy had disproved that theory.
Feedback: Of course I want to know what you think otherwise I'd hide it in a folder on my computer! Kristi@allengames.com
Disclaimer: They belong to Joss. If they were mine I'd be nicer to them! At least most of the time.
Spoilers: Only if you have lived in a cave and not seen any of Angel or Buffy.
Distribution: If you want it just ask!
Author's notes: The centered offset quotes are quotes pulled from the shows. I didn't write them, I didn't think of them. Also I wanted to thank everyone who sent me feedback! This is my first fanfic and it's very inspiring! If you'd like to see more of this story let me know!
Chapter Three
"Wow, so they just handed you the keys to this law firm along with everyone and everything in it?" Buffy asked. She looked stunned. Angel had spent the better part of a half hour telling her about Wolfram and Hart.
"Well, there were some conditions but basically, yes."
"What sort of conditions?" Buffy asked.
He should have known Buffy of all people couldn't let something go. He wanted to tell her. He longed to share his memories of his son with anyone, but especially someone who would care.
"About where Cordelia and your son are? Not a thing, but you could find out
in about 10 seconds. All you gotta do is pick up the phone, boss."-
-"Good. Just one more piece of business. I get to see him."-
-You're the boss. There'll be a limo waiting outside. It'll take you to
see Connor."-
-"Who's Connor."-
Buffy of all people would understand his decision. She'd made tough decisions for Dawn, like dying to save her. If it had been giving her to another family in order to give her a happier life, she would have done it.
But he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell anyone, ever. He thought about the other part of the deal he'd made with Lilah.
-"That nifty little bauble comes with the file. Apparently, it's crucial for some sort of final battle. Guess they're in short supply up Sunnydale
way. A bit gauche for me but hey, not a slayer."-
"The amulet I brought you in Sunnydale, and the file. They were one of my conditions." Angel said.
Buffy grew quiet. "The amulet that killed Spike, plus about a thousand ubervamps and made a crater of Sunnydale."
Oh, God, Spike. She didn't know he was alive. He'd figured Captain Peroxide would beat a path to the mailbox to send Buffy a letter. This really wasn't the time to discuss Spike, not that there was ever a good time in his estimation to discuss Spike. He promised himself he'd tell her, just not now.
She brightened and smiled at him. "So that was your condition, what about theirs?"
Angel shrugged. "We have to show a profit at the end of the year, which means I have to walk the line between good and evil a little closer now. We've done a lot of good already though."
In truth, there were days Angel felt like he helped evil more then he did good. He knew it wasn't true, there were reports and statistics and all sorts of "evidence" to the contrary. It didn't change the feeling any. There were days he straddled a chasm and fought not to fall into the black depths below. He looked up at the golden haired child/woman sitting next to him on the couch, so close he could reach out and touch her, and the chasm wasn't so wide or so deep.
She reached over to touch his hand. She'd forgotten how cool and perfect his skin was. Angel had remembered all to well how hot her touch was. She intertwined her fingers with his and they sat silently for a long while on the couch, watching the fire in the hearth consume everything within.
She stretched languidly. It took a moment for her to realize she wasn't in her own bed or even her own room. Her instincts drove her into slayer mode for a few seconds before her brain caught up and remembered Angel. She must have fallen asleep last night. He would have carried her and tucked her into bed without ever waking her.
She padded barefoot about the room, peeking into empty drawers. It took her all of five minutes to get bored in this room and move onto the hallway outside. The house was small. There was the cozy living room they had sat in last night. Embers of the fire still burned in the hearth. A galley sized kitchen with a breakfast nook was directly behind the living room. There was really very little in the cupboards. The refrigerator held a bottle of Irish whiskey and a plentiful stock of blood.
The only door she hadn't explored behind had to be Angel's bedroom. She eased it open softly, half expecting him to be gone. The room was so dark it was difficult to make out the shadows. Buffy waited a moment to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she could help the gasp of all the air in the room being stolen.
Angel lay on his back amid dark bed sheets. The top sheet was pulled down low around his hips. The darkness of the room and the bed only served to make the pale marble of his skin look more ethereal. He wasn't breathing, which while disturbing until you go used to it, was normal. During waking hours, Angel feigned breathing. It generally made the humans around him more comfortable. When he slept, truly and deeply, he forgot the habit of breathing and he looked more like a dead body then a living one, which she supposed he really was. To her he looked more like a statue carved from marble, something by Michelangelo, or the guy who had cut off his ear, or maybe it was his nose. She couldn't remember. During her short stint in college she'd taken an art class with Willow. Even then the statues in the pictures and slides had brought to mind Angel.
She slipped into a wing chair next to his bed and sat in the darkness watching him. A little more then four years ago, he had walked out on her and insisted she give up any ideas of any sort of future between them. Tears still sprang to her eyes at the memory of him disappearing into the smoke, as if the past three years had been nothing but a dream, nothing more substantial then the smoke he'd walked into.
-" I'm leaving. After the Ascension, after it's finished with the Mayor and
Faith. If we survive, I'll go."-
-"I'm not going to say goodbye. If we get through this, I'm just going to
go."-
She didn't realize she'd started crying until Angel was there crouched beside her.
"Buffy, what's wrong? What happened?"
She shook her head. "Nothing, really. Just-just old memories."
Old memories of him hurting her. He knew without asking that was the source of her tears. Maybe it was egotistical or maybe it was the tie that bound them soul to soul. The tie that allowed her to sense him, even when he was human on the Day that Wasn't. Whatever it was he knew her pain was for him.
-"You were born to hurt her. Have you learned nothing?"-
He stood up and pulled a dark shirt on. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Buffy."
She shot up out of the chair. "What wasn't a good idea Angel? We haven't even discussed anything remotely resembling a future. We haven't even kissed!You're running already? I think that's a record, even for you."
She turned and stalked out of the room, out of the house and into the daylight, where she knew he couldn't follow her.
He brooded around the house until it was a decent hour in Los Angeles and then called Wes.
"Wes, did you know Buffy was going to be here?" he asked abruptly.
"Buffy is there? In Galway?" Wes asked, truly surprised.
"I guess that's a no. Buffy is here. I ran into her last night. We talked."
"You didn't. I mean you still have you're-" Wes stammered.
"I'm not evil if that's what your asking. I just wondered if you knew she was here before I got here." Angel snapped.
"Angel, I would never presume to orchestrate such a thing. I have been in contact with Mr. Giles once or twice over the past few weeks but he never mentioned that Buffy was in Ireland, much less Galway."
"Thanks Wes, sorry to bother you with this." Angel closed the cell phone and paced the house like a caged animal, waiting for sunset. His first instinct was to go after Buffy. He knew there were other things he should be doing though, like finding more information on The Book of the Guardian. He had found precious little so far. Several people, and demons, had confirmed the books existence but they didn't know if it was still in Galway, or if it was where it might be.
He had to focus on the task at hand and for the moment that was finding the book. Perhaps it was better if Buffy left mad. He loved her. He would love her the rest of his very long life but unless he got his shanshu, during her lifetime, there was no chance of them ever having a future together. His curse made that impossible He knew she thought it about not being able to have sex with her, and yes that was a big part of it, but it was also just being with her. Sitting beside her on the couch the night before, listening to her laugh and talk and sound so much like the woman he'd fallen in love with he'd stopped once and made what he'd come to call his soul checks. He had to gage his happiness and make sure he wasn't to happy, that he wasn't approaching the perfect happiness threshold. It had been a daily activity that last year in Sunnydale. It had become an hourly one when Connor had been born.
When Connor had been taken he had been sure he'd never come close to perfect happiness again. A few moments with Buffy had disproved that theory.