Summary: Set about a year after Not Fade Away. Angel's not happy, neither is Buffy. But she comes to town and needs his help and he just needs her. Not a great summary, but let me know if I should finish it up.

Disclaimers: Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon own it all.

Feedback: Appreciated


It was hot and she was drenched with sweat, but she couldn't bring herself to make the return run to the Hyperion. Angel had asked her to forgo her run, they needed to talk he said.

And Buffy wanted to talk. She knew something was happening to her; she wanted to know the truth. But panic and fear had triumphed over facing her life. Now she swallowed hard and turned to begin the trip home.

How strange. She'd only been at the Hyperion with Angel for a few days, yet she already referred to it as home. It felt like home, being with Angel.

Seeing Angel was the real reason she came to Los Angeles. She didn't know it at the time, at least not consciously. There had been no real need for her to accompany Dawn; Buffy's dad hadn't even asked her. But deep down she knew. She had to see Angel. It had become an internal mantra. MustseeAngel-mustseeAngel-mustseeAngel. It pounded in her blood. Too much was going on inside of her, all her thoughts of him, allher emotions and dreams, connected to him. All about him. Somehow she knew Angel could help her, fix her.

Standing in front of the hotel, Buffy fought back her anxiety. She was on the cusp of something big, huge. Maybe she was being dramatic, but she really did feel something. Now all she needed was the courage to walk through those doors and face her life.


After she showered Buffy went in search of Angel. She found him in the first place she looked, the training room. He was beating the crap out of a punching bag.

"Better it than me, I suppose. Or are you going for the 'how many hits does it take to kill a punching bag" award? 'Cause I won that one last year and my knuckles are still sore. Slayer healing not withstanding." Angel just grunted as an acknowledgment to her presence.

He had removed his shirt and Buffy just stood back and watched as his body tensed with each hit on the bag. She could spend forever doing this, just looking at him. It was an activity that had never become boring and the one thing she fantasized about most often. Except this was real and she was becoming overwhelmed by him, by his scent.

"So," he grunted out while still working the bag, "you feel like talking?"

"I'd rather just watch you, but yeah. Suppose we should talk."

Angel stopped, picked up his towel and wiped down before slipping his shirt on. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart and smell her arousal but he was too cognizant of what he had to do to let it affect him. Much. "Let's go upstairs."

He followed her up, wondering where to start. He'd had time enough to practice what he was going to say, but nothing ever seemed quite right. Before her realized it, Buffy had led them to his bedroom. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"Thought you might be more comfy here." She sat in the armchair while Angel slid to the floor, his back against the foot of his bed. He looked up at her. "Where to start?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "What am I?"

This took Angel totally off guard. "W...w...what?" He stammered, he never stammered. "What are you talking about? What do you think you know?"

"I know there is something different about me. Something wrong? Every day, every week, every month the feeling gets stronger. I just don't know what it is or what it means." Buffy looked down at Angel, her eyes fearful. "Do you?"

"Some of it. A lot of it, I guess." He admitted.

"I knew it, you knew all along." She hissed. "And you kept it from me. Was this to protect me, again? I am not a child and you continue to insult me by making decisions for me! Angel, you should've…" She jumped out of her chair.

He stopped her before she could finish. "Buffy, I just found out! Right before you got here, I swear. I wouldn't keep this from you, you have to believe me. I promise, I'll never make a decision for you, for us, ever again."

"Yeah, like kidnapping me was our decision." She spat. She was angry, but she sat back down.

"Let's stay on subject, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." She conceded. "Go on, tell me." Her façade was calm, but Angel could hear the rapid beating of her heart.

And so, Angel began. "Okay, well about two weeks before you got into town…"