The Driving Lesson
Author: Jill
Disclaimer: not mine, never will be

Author's Note: It's still not finished, and it's been ages, but these are the first 4 1/2 pages of the last part. Better than nothing, right? Enjoy!

Part 4b/I – finally

After my initial bout of freaking out, the ride home hadn't been all that bad. It'd been kinda nice, watching Greg and Angel interact with each other, and I discovered for a fact that even though Greg was nice and attractive, Angel was still the better looking of the brothers. Without a doubt. Of course, the fact that he'd stopped glaring at me every other minute was nice, too. Geez – what is it about men and their cars? It's like some secret love affair, women are never let in on.

It was about five minutes from my house, when I realized Greg was looking at me through the rear mirror. "I'm not sure what we're going to tell your Mom."

My mom. Oh, right, Mom! As in the woman who gave birth to me. Mom. "Does she have to know?" I could just imagine her totally freaking out about her little daughter getting into a car with a guy she barely knew. SO not what I wanted to face any time soon. Besides, Angel wasn't just some guy, he was the brother of my future step-dad, after all. Hey, and I didn't wince at the thought – or at least just a little. That had to mean I was actually making progress, right?

I saw Greg exchange a look with Angel before he cleared his throat. "I don't feel right about lying to your mother," he announced.

And really, I should've felt good about it. I mean, this was Greg, my mother's boyfriend. It should make me happy that he was such a honest guy, but right now I would've preferred for him to be a lying, cheating bastard.

"Not saying anything wouldn't be really lying." That from Angel who hadn't said a single word since road service had taken his car with them (he insisted pulling it home would damage the engine) and his brooding because of some stupid vehicle would have started to get on my nerves if not for the fact that he looked really good, all dark and mysterious.

"Besides, Mom won't be at home, yet. She said she was busy at the gallery, and then she mentioned something about a date."

At that, Greg paled. "Shit. Sorry, Buffy. Oh man, I almost forgot about the date." He gave Angel a desperate look and the way he said it, I would've had to be dense not to notice what it meant. Of course, I already knew what the whole thing was about after Mom let the bomb drop a few hours ago. Strangely enough, I didn't freak out this time.

When we reached our house, Greg turned off the engine and turned to look at me properly. "Okay, I'm not going to tell Joyce. But I'm not going to lie either. If she asks me, I'll tell her the truth."

"Alright." I could live with that. Thank God, my mother was the most oblivious person on this planet. Which meant unless you did things right underneath her nose, she usually didn't have a clue what was going on.

Greg sighed, obviously not really happy with his decision. I couldn't care less. If he was going to marry my mother, he had to learn what it meant to be part of the Summers-family. "Fine. You two need to get out of the car now. Damn, I can't believe I almost forgot … I need to get ready for later. I promised Joyce to pick her up at the gallery … holy … in an hour." I almost felt sorry for him, he looked so freaked out. And really, it was kind of sweet. If it weren't my mother he was dating, of course.

Angel and I climbed out of the car and I even managed a wave when Greg drove away, just barely keeping to the speed limit in our street. Boy, the guy really had it bad for my mother, and I was SO not thinking about that right now. On the downside it left me with nothing to do but focussing my attention on the man next to me, and a slight cough from my side reminded me that Angel hadn't conveniently suffered from memory loss either.

"Ahm … uhm …" Wow, and if that didn't sound as if I was reverting back into pre-speech age. Damn.

"I really need to-" Angel started, but I suddenly didn't want him leave. So, okay, yes, we weren't on the best of terms right now. I had stolen his car, but he had kidnapped me in the first place – alright, lured me into going with him under false pretences – kind of, at least. But that didn't mean I wasn't still madly attracted to him and didn't want him to leave like that, all grumpy and probably cursing me to hell and back.

"NO!" I felt my face go crimson, but forced my embarrassment down at my outburst. When I finally managed to look at him, I saw him smiling slightly. "What?" I snapped. Why on earth did he always have to look so cool and in charge? Didn't anything rattle the man?

"I thought after what happened you would be glad to see me gone," he said, his eyes very dark, and very intense. I felt my knees go weak. Boy. What on earth was God thinking when he made Angel? Hey, maybe God really is a woman!

"Well, ah …" I took a deep breath, no day like today Summers. "No," I repeated. "How about a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee?" he asked stupidly.

"Yeah, coffee," I snapped. "Or are you one of those macho-men who think only the guy can offer something?" God, he looked good. And now I even knew how good he felt and … geez … tasted. I licked my lips, hoping he didn't have clue what was going on in my head. I could just imagine his smirk, should he ever find out.

He shook his head slowly, smiling ever so slightly. "No, I'm not. But after what happened today, I was expecting you to slam the door in my face." His eyes crinkled at the corners, "Not that I could really blame you."

"Ah." A little surprised at his attitude, I wasn't quite sure what to say, so I simply walked towards the house, hoping he would get the hint and follow me. I fumbled with the key, feeling a little distracted by him standing right behind me, but finally the door opened and we stepped inside. But before I could take a deep breath, I was greeted by

"Where have you been?"

I rolled my eyes, forgetting Angel for a moment, and focussing on my annoying sister. "That's none of your business."

Her eyes widened as soon as they fell on the man behind me. "Who are you?" she asked in her usual tactless manner.

"That's none of your business either," I said sternly. "And now, get gone."

Of course, Dawn being Dawn, she simply ignored me as always. "You look nice," she told Angel, who seemed a little flustered by her frank attitude. "Not like the other guys she usually goes out with."

"Ah … thanks," he managed. "You … uhm … too."

Seemed as if he didn't have a lot of experience with teenage sisters. And what was the crack about my other … guys? I fixed my most intimidating glare on her. "What does that mean? Riley was nice."

Totally incredulous, as if I'd just told her our mayor was a giant snake, Dawn rolled her eyes, "Oh, please! The guy was in serious need of a haircut. And all that grease. Did you have to, like, wash your hands all the time?"

She had a point there. Not that I was ever going to admit it, but Riley's hair had been kind of greasy. But he'd been nice – in a farmboy-sort-of-way – which hadn't done him any good, as I was a little preoccupied all the time, thanks to a certain tall, dark, brooding someone who was standing beside me this very moment.

Pointing at the open doorway, I narrowed my eyes at my sister, "Go!"

Another expressive eyeroll. But she was actually moving towards the door now. "Geez! I'm going, I'm going. Maybe you should just take a pill, or something." She turned to Angel and smiled, "Bye."

"Bye," he said, probably wondering what kind of lunatics were living in this house.

"Sorry for that," I apologized, as soon as Dawn was out of the room. "Little sisters and all."

To my surprise he grinned. "No need. I think she's nice. Sassy. My sister is about that age."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah." His face seemed tense. "She's living with my parents. I haven't seen her in forever."

"That has to be hard." Or not. But I was so not going to say it. A life without an annoying little sister sticking her nose into everything … sounded a little boring, actually. Angel was missing his sister, no doubt. "So," I took a deep breath. Enough of little sisters. Back to us for a change. "You want that coffee now?" I walked towards the kitchen and felt him following me. Yes, felt. Believe me if I tell you it was the strangest thing. I didn't hear him, he was moving so quietly, but I still felt him. It should have been creepy, but it wasn't.

"Nice house," he remarked, and I had to suck in my breath when I turned around finding him standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning casually with one shoulder. The sun was directly on him, emphasising his muscular legs in those leather pants.

OH BOY!

I quickly turned back to the coffee maker, desperately trying to forget the way he looked like.

Of course, it was no use.

My heart was beating like a jackhammer, my stomach flip-flopping like crazy, and I just knew my face had turned tomato red again. My ears probably, too. God, it was embarrassing. And what was that question again? … Something about the house?

"Oh, ah …" Thank God my mind hadn't left for la-la land completely. "It's okay, I guess. We lived in a bigger one when my parents were still together."

"Must have been hard."

Hard. Oh no. No, no thinking about hard. No hardness. "What?" And, geez, could I sound more like a moron, squeaking that way?

I heard him shift behind me. "Having to watch your parents divorce. From what I know it's always the kids who suffer most."

I shrugged. I didn't like talking about my parents' divorce. For various reasons. "It was worse for Dawn. She was too small to understand, and for months blamed herself for what happened."

He was quiet for a while, and I thought he'd let the subject go when he asked, "What about you?"

"Me?"

"You couldn't have been more than a kid."

It was strange. I always hated talking about the divorce. Yet, with Angel here, his voice soft and understanding it seemed suddenly a lot easier.

Still, I wasn't quite ready to admit how deep the cut had gone. "I was old enough. At least I understood what was happening."

"Did you?"

That made me angry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I glared at him over my shoulder, and saw him shrug. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to understand why two people who love each other, make kids, make a commitment, can't stick to it. I mean, I'm not all that old-"

And boy was he right.

"- but I can't see myself giving up my kids. From what Greg told me, your Dad isn't around all that much."

I laughed and was shocked how hollow and hurt it sounded. Damn. Not quite over the whole thing, huh, Summers? "You can say that again," I managed to choke out. "These days he prefers to be around stacked blondes with an IQ barely reaching their age, which, let me tell you, isn't all that far above mine."

I had to blink, surprised to find my eyes wet. Wasn't I the cool older sister who usually could dismiss all and any talk about Hank Summers with a shrug and a snide remark? It were those moments when Dawn looked at me with absolute wonder and admiration. Probably because she still cries in her pillow most nights. I know the dampness on mine is drool only.

"I'm sorry."

Surprised, I looked at him over my shoulder. He really was. Sorry, that is. At least he looked sorry.

I turned back to the coffee maker. "Thanks," I said, glad I wasn't choking on the word. My throat felt tight and there was something funny going on in my chest. Like the slightest flutter just where my heart was supposed to be.

And then I almost jumped out of my skin when his arms suddenly came around me from behind – I did tell you, he was moving like a big cat, right – and held. For a moment I wanted to protest, wanted to wriggle out of his embrace, even be angry at him for stepping into my personal space, but it only lasted a fraction of a second. Then I felt something inside of me give way and I sagged against him, letting his warmth surround me, his strength support me. Strangely enough there was nothing awkward in it. It felt normal, and I felt myself reminded of those times my father had held me when I was still a little child. I felt safe in a way I hadn't for a very long time.

"That's it," I heard him whisper gently, his large palm moving up and down my back. "Let it go. You don't have to be strong all the time."

My answering laugh was more like a snort. "I wish."

"Buffy, my dad's an asshole, too. It's not our fault we drew loser parents." He paused for a moment, "Okay, one loser parent in your case. I mean, I haven't actually met you Mom, but Greg's a pretty decent guy and the fact he's in love with her says a lot."

How did he do it? I wondered. How could he make me feel better just by touching me and finding the right words. I thought about his father who'd treated Greg in a way no parent should. Compared to him, my father suddenly seemed like Father of the Year. Well, maybe not quite, but if I could forget all the years of neglecting, I had also all those memories of him taking us to Disney land, of teaching me how to drive a bike, of him catching me and whirling me through the air, laughing me, then buying me the hugest ice-cone ever. Angel probably didn't have those kinds of memories.

The hissing of the coffee maker saved me from saying anything. He let me go, albeit reluctantly, and took a step back. I had an incredible feeling of loss. I had to clear my throat before I was able to say, "How do you take it?"

"What?" His voice was hoarse.

"The coffee," I said, without looking at him. "Milk, Sugar?"

"Black with sugar. Two spoons."

Now I did turn, and raised a brow. "Two spoons? Do you run? Work out?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

I let my eyes travel over the length of his body – and boy, was that a mistake because instantly my heart started to beat triple time again – then quickly turned back to the coffee. "I mean," I gestured with the spoon in my hand, "you're not fat or something." There wasn't a gram of it on him. He wasn't thin, either. Big, as in lots of muscles, broad shoulders, but no fat. Nuh-huh. I had my hands on him only a few hours ago. I knew.

"Good metabolism," he replied. "I go to the gym if I have time, but never more than once a week."

"Not fair," I complained, adding two spoons of sugar to his cup. I heard him chuckle behind me, and felt instantly irritated. "What?"

"It's not as if you are fat. If anything ,you could do with a few pounds."

"Oh, thanks so much!" I snapped at him. "Do you realize what it costs me to withstand all that chocolate they throw at us all the time?"

Again that chuckle. And then, his voice like a cat's purr, "Maybe you should give in to temptation from time to time."

Boy! Did I say my heart beat triple time? It was beating like a sledge hammer now.

to be continued …

So, what do you think? Is this still worth continuing? Or did I lose all my inspiration for B/A?