Chapter Three
-Buffy-
I'm on a plane to Los Angeles. I don't know why I'm on a plane to Los Angeles; actually that's not true. Angel's getting married. I'm going under the guise of visiting Dawnie and Xander who live in LA along with everyone else I know, or at least used to know.
The pilot comes over the intercom and says we're beginning our descent. I break out into a cold sweat, not because I'm afraid to fly, land, whatever; I'm not. I break out into a cold sweat because I don't know if I can do this. I can slay demons, I can save the world. I can't watch Angel get married. So what am I doing here?
I'm going to get him back of course.
-Angel-
"So you're sure this menu is okay?" Liv asks.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to ten. This is the fourth time this morning she's been in here asking questions about the wedding. It's two and a half weeks away and every day closer is worse than the last. "Liv, its fine."
"Well it's going to be your first major dinner party in two hundred and fifty some odd years. I want everything to be perfect."
I take a deep breath. I've had this edgy, restless feeling all morning. Maybe the wedding jitters are getting to me more then I thought.
"Liv, it will be perfect. I'm marrying you," I say between gritted teeth. I love the woman, I do, but right now I'm sorely tempted to give into Angelus' demands that we snap her neck.
Liv arches an eyebrow at me and smirks. She's a smart girl and I've no doubt that she can hear the impatience in my voice. "Okay, so I'm going to get out of your hair and let you get some thinking done. By the way, I'm entirely too nice to you and tolerant of your deep thought periods."
"It's brooding and it's what I do," I say.
"Okay, so I'm tolerant of your brooding," she says, walking out of the office and shutting the door behind her.
Oh thank God, I think and turn back to the pile of books on my desk. I'm doing some extra research on the Shanshu. Dawn, Giles and Willow have been doing the research. It was actually Dawn who managed to pinpoint the timing for me, but I'd like to check things myself. It's not that I'm worried about my soul. Marrying Liv won't change what perfect happiness has, and probably always will, equal. Liv isn't it.
There's a soft knock on my door. I growl low in my chest.
"Dammit, I've been patient, but I need to get this done before the damn wedding or there won't be one," I snap without looking up from my book.
"Yeah, I'm sure it's high quality brooding, but I thought you might have time for an old friend."
The entire building seems to hold its breath. I take a deep breath, scent telling me the same thing my ears have already told me. I haven't seen her in five years, but I'd never forget the sound of her voice, her scent.
"Do you want me to come back later—or not at all?" she asks.
"No, you-Buffy," I finally manage.
"Angel."
I close my eyes. I think some part of me said her name just to see if she still says my name the same way, breathy, girlish, almost like a wish. She does. After a moment I open my eyes and look up at her for the first time. She still takes my metaphorical breath away, and suddenly I want to know what that will feel like when I'm human.
I stand up and walk around the desk. I need to know she's real. I need to know she's not a ghost, or a vision or a last favor from the Powers that Be. I'm standing close enough to touch her. She's put on a bit of weight since I last saw her, but it looks good on her, gives her a few more curves. Her hair is a bit darker and a little shorter than it had been five years ago. She's beautiful. Somehow I'd forgotten how beautiful.
"Well...at least you could tell me you're glad to see me," she says.
She's in my arms. I honestly don't know if I pulled her there or she did, and it doesn't matter because my lips are on hers, the world is fading away. There's just Buffy and me. That's all there ever has been.
-Buffy-
I twine my fingers in his hair, longer now than it was the last time I saw him, more like when I first met him. I tiptoe and pull him down to me, aching to be closer, regardless of the fact that we are aligned, pressed together from lips to legs. One of Angel's hands is behind my head, lifting me into the kiss. His thumb glides over the old scar on my neck. His other hand drifts down my back, pausing at the small of it and then creeping just a little lower, pulling me even closer.
I moan with regret instantly turned to desire as his mouth leaves mine and peppers tiny kisses across my jawbone, down my neck. He pauses and rubs his nose across my skin when he gets to the pulse there. He continues to his scar and laves it with his tongue, then nips at it lightly with blunt teeth. He suckles at the slightly raised skin there for a moment.
"Mine," he growls softly against my skin.
I'm melting into him and breathing "always," before I can stop myself.
The world seems to snap back into place for him then because he jumps away from me like I burn. My face flushes and the pulled together, almost happy woman I've grown into disappears. I'm sixteen years old all over again.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"You-you are?"
He swallows hard. "Not for the kiss-"he goes very pale and stops. He takes a deep, unneeded breath. "I-I just needed to know you were real."
"Oh." Okay, so maybe I had entertained a few fantasies that the mere sight of me would make Angel renounce his fiancée and declare his love anew for me.
He sighs. "Buffy, I'm getting married in two weeks."
"Congratulations," I say, concentrating on keeping the tremble out of my voice.
Nice job, Buffy. You come here to get him back and you congratulate him on his engagement, I think. I take a deep breath and scrub my palms on my skirt.
"I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead," he says.
"Yeah, uhm-yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for anyone to think that," I answer.
"What exactly did you mean? We never got a postcard, a phone call, a letter, an email. You never sent anything to us to let us know where you were. You didn't think we were important enough to let us know you were alive?" Angel asks.
I swallow hard and sigh. That's not entirely true. I called Giles half a dozen times and hung up on him. I wrote endless letters to Dawnie and never mailed them. There were more international connect fees to Los Angeles on my phone bill than I care to remember, calls I hung up on. I shake my head. "You were the one who didn't need me, Angel. I think those were your words exactly." I know they were his words exactly because they've haunted me for the last five years. I've had nightmares with Angel in them telling me he didn't need me.
Angel goes completely still in that way only really old vampires, or corpses can do. "I didn't mean I wanted you to disappear, letting me and everyone else who loved you think you were dead."
"You weren't exactly specific about what you meant." I cross my arms over my chest.
Angel pinches the bridge of his nose. "Buffy, can we not do this?"
"Do what?" I ask, even though I know exactly what he's talking about.
"Dammit, Buffy, I don't want to fight with you."
I paste on my happy slayer smile, haven't had to use this one in a while so it probably looks more cardboard cut out than it used to. "I know. I don't want to fight either, really."
"Why did you come back?" Angel asks.
That one question shoves a knife in my heart. I take a deep breath and the knife twists. "I-I saw Willow in Siena and-"I pause, unsure how much I really want to reveal here. I sigh. "Willow told me you were going to be human."
He presses his mouth into a thin line, half turns away from me and nods.
"Ho-how?" I manage.
Angel pinches the bridge of his nose again. "A prophecy, I thought I'd signed it away, but Dawn and Giles did some research on it. I guess I'd forgotten you can't change prophecies."
I smirk. "Yeah, thought we covered that way back when I died, the first time."
He turns to me and the intensity in his eyes takes my breath away. "I guess I'd forgotten. I forgot a lot of things about Sunnydale, but never the important things."
I'm dying to know what the important things are, and yet I don't want to know. It's best if I don't turn into a quivering pile of Buffy, okay a more quivering pile of Buffy.
"I-I'm happy for you," I squeak. Strong, slayer strong, slayer strong. My mantra doesn't work. I turn and run out of his office, managing to keep the sobs in until I reach the street.