I walk through the cemetary, leaves blowing against my feet, my smoothly polished stake in my right hand. I twirl it like it's a baton, and I throw into the air for good measure, catching it easily. No monsters, hardly any vamps, and a few rats are about all I've seen tonight. No action equals a bored slayer, who's headed home for a few rounds with European History 101. Ugh.
I could ask Angel, he was there then after all.
That thought sobers me up.
After that scene on the beach, I had thought we'd be peachy keen, seeing each other a lot, even just out for coffee, or a walk, or a make out session or seven. Wrong-o.
I haven't seen hide nor gorgeous hair of him in a week. What the hell? And mom's been busting my butt all week, trying to figure out who this mystery guy is I won't talk about.
Oh yeah, can you see that? "Well, mom, this is Angel, he's a vampire, oh and by the way I'm a vampire slayer. But he's got his soul, so that's okay."
Uh huh. And maybe not.
I turn out of Restfield onto Silber, and head west towards Revello drive and my house. And the waiting homework.
It's not like I have much else to do. Except I have been doing other things. Like going to frat parties with Cordy. Oh man, I will so never do that again.
Especially after seeing the hurt look on Angel's face. Although he really did kind of deserve it.
Willow told me guiltily that she had ripped into him that night, and was instantly contrite. Of course I told her it's no big, but honestly when I think about it, it makes me feel good that my friends would stand up for me. It makes me love them the more.
Hopefully I can actually stay up for my study session. I've been having these really weird dreams, like the prophecy ones I had about the Master. These ones are wicked weird, not making any kind of sense at all. They look like something out of King Arthur. I'm a princess of course, and Angel is there too, a stately pale knight dressed head to toe in black armor.
He seems to be there to protect me from something, but when I turn to tell him I can take care of myself, he procedes to vamp face out on me, and before I can do anything he lunges for me.
I wake up sweating each time at this point.
I shiver a little as I reach the corner of Revello and Silber. I know it's not really a prophecy dream; it's not like Angel and I are suddenly going to be transported to Camelot, but I know these dreams always represent something in real life. I just can't figure this one out yet.
Mom has left the porch light on, and as it's 11pm, I expect her to be in bed. So I shimmy up the tree in the front yard and drop silently into my room, breathing quietly and listening for any noise.
I peek my head out of my door, and listen. Snoring. Perfect.
"Angel!" I yell, and jerk awake in my bed, the covers a tangled mess, my hair in my face, my pj's in dissaray.
"Buffy?" comes the unexpected answer, and I jump about a mile.
"Angel? Is that you?"
He steps through the window, and onto the love seat next to it.
"Are you alright? I heard you call my name," he asks, and I nod, pushing back sticky hair from my forehead.
"Yeah…I think so. I've been having these dreams…wait, how did you hear me? Were you outside this whole time?"
He shrugs sheepishly. "I followed you from Restfield. I just wanted to make sure you got home alright."
"Why didn't you say something? We could've walked together. I haven't seen you in a while…" I trail off, my voice getting quiet. Maybe that's because he didn't want to see you.
He sits on the love seat, and faces me. "I know. I'm sorry about that. I just…I needed to think some things out. About you, and about us. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going."
I face him as well, and try to straighten the covers so they're around me at least a little bit. Don't want to come off as a wanton slut.
"You wanted to think about…us? I didn't know there was an us," I say, getting a little mad here. Well, maybe just a little embarrassed. Oh, God is there an us?
He cocks his head to one side, and looks at me quizzicly. "Well, I thought, I mean, after the beach…is there not an us?"
I sigh, not wanting to get into this conversation. Especially after not getting my sleep, due to those crazy dreams.
"Buffy, you know how I feel about you," he says, and his eyes meet mine. He leans forward from the waist, his forearms resting on his thighs.
"Do I? I don't know, Angel. I mean, you tell me you feel for me, you kiss me, and then you leave for a week with no word. How do you think that makes me feel? Not too special, really. Didn't you tell me you weren't going anywhere?" I tell him, and am shocked at how bitchy I sound. What's wrong with me?
He drops his head, so he's not looking at me.
"I know. And I meant it all. You're like a drug, Buffy," he tells me, jerking his head back in my direction, and I can see that he's angry, or confused, or both. I know how he feels.
"You're like a narcotic I can't fight. I can feel you when you're not around, feel you in my blood, and if I don't see you I'm like a junkie that can't get his next fix. You're in my soul, Buffy, and damn it, I don't know what to do about it. Or if I even should do anything about it."
I stare at him, thunderstruck. No one has ever said anything like that to me. Granted, he compared me to drugs, but I get the idea. Boy, do I get it.
"This is doomed. We're doomed. But I want so badly for there to be an us, and God, what if we don't try? Would that be worse than a doomed relationship? I honestly don't think so. I'd go to hell and back for the chance to walk in your footprints."
He's on his knees now, in front of me, and I've moved to the edge of the bed, and my hand is cupping his cheek without me even realizing it.
"Angel…don't. Please, just don't," I tell him, and I'm shaking, though not with cold. My dreams are a dim memory now, something not important to be discussed at a later time. With Giles, maybe. All that matters right now is that this beautiful, dangerous man on his knees in my bedroom just told me he'd go to hell for me.
How do you answer that?
The only way you know how.
I lean forward and place my other hand on his left cheek, and pull his face to mine. I barely touch his lips with mine, and he shudders, placing his hands on my shoulders.
Doom and destiny and vampires and death and the wrongness of our relationship are wiped out by one touch of his mouth on mine. His smell surrounds me, like leather and outdoors and spice, and he raises up on his knees, removing my hands from his face, and wraps them around his torso. I slide to the last inch of the mattress, and twine a leg around one of his.
He kisses me hesitantly at first, somewhat unsure of the ground he's on. I increase the pressure, to let him know that I'm okay with this. I'm more than okay. I'm great. I do not care what anyone says. They can all go to hell themselves. Angel and I are meant to be. We fit. Screw the universe, screw everything. No one has ever made me feel like he does.
I don't know what love is really, but I now have more than an inkling. I have a truckload.
My dream nags at me again, but I push it away, and concentrate on the feel of Angel in my arms, his lips on mine, his arms around my waist.
What's so important about some Cinderella dream anyway? Or Camelot. Or whatever it was.
I'll tell him later.
The wind has risen, and beats at the frame of my window, but neither of us notice it.
Tbc.
