The Road Home
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. The name of the chapter, too, belongs to them..
A/N: Now I'm depressed. I don't want my first to end: But still, let me know what you think.
29. The Replacement
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat. The name of the chapter, too, belongs to them.."Business is slow, eh?"
Faith grinned, wiping a glass. "Monday night, B; always slow."
Buffy gave a slight nod, her chin bobbing against the counter where it rested. She said nothing in return.
Faith sighed and put down the cloth and the glass. "Buffy... what's the matter, girl? What's wrong?"
Buffy closed her eyes. "Nothing," She said in a choked voice. "You know."
"B," Faith said angrily, "That man is mad to have left you, and you know it. Don't you worry, though, he'll be back, his tail between his legs, soon, girl, and you'll be able to kick him off your feet like—
"Faith. Calm down. He's not coming back. I know, and it's okay." The resignation in Buffy's voice shocked Faith. Buffy sat up and pulled out her wallet. Putting down a ten dollar note, she said, "I'd better go home before it's too late. Thanks, Faith."
As she turned to leave, Faith leaned over and grabbed her arm. Buffy turned. Faith looked at the slim blonde girl, taking in the eyes red from lack of sleep, circled darkly, her crumpled clothes and pale appearance. A line of determination set her mouth and she told Buffy, "Don't let a man bring you down to this, Buffy. Don't let him be your downfall."
Buffy gazed at her friend for a moment. Then, with a broken smile, she said, "Faith... I brought myself down to this."
Buffy came home late, even though she'd left the bar early. It didn't matter, however... she didn't have anything waiting for her at home.
When she pulled into her driveway, the black, empty DeSoto stung her eyes. She looked away from it and stepped out of her car, eyes towards Willow's house so that she could see shelter. But out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw that her living room was lit and something, someone was moving at the curtains.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Immediately, though her mind stopped functioning, she moved for the porch. Her heart seemed to have taken over the job of the mind and was joined with her instinct in agreement that Will was back. She ran up the porch steps, one hand in her jacket pocket, the other reaching out for the door. Just when she was going to thrust in her key, the door opened. Her heart swelled.
And fell.
"Angel." She whispered, her voice hollow in the night.
Angel's smile seemed warm, grim and glad at the same time. "Hey, Buffy."
For the sixth time that night, Will picked up the phone, dialled a number, then put it off. He hadn't slept all night, preferring to sit by the window of his suite and watch the New York drizzle echo his mood. He sighed, fingers splayed across the glass. He was damned to think he had needed this.
His hand flew to the breast pocket of his coat. He was dressed for a meeting that would happen at ten AM, seven hours from then. He pulled out the delicate earring, whose mate lay on a dresser in L.A. The silver mocked him with its sparkle, telling him he had nothing to sparkle for now. Will put the earring away.
His eyes fled to the phone. Biting his lip, he made a decision. Reaching out for it, Will dialled the number he had memorized, now, and his fingers tightened instinctively around the arm of his chair. The ring went once, twice, thrice...
He heard her voice. Hi, you've reached the residence of Anya Jenkins and Buffy Summers. His heart gave a pang. The answering machine. He should hang up... We aren't here right now, so please leave a message after the—
Buffy's recorded voice was cut off, suddenly, and a deep, male voice said, "Hello?"Will's eyes widened. He dropped the phone.
Angel and Buffy sat on opposite sides of the coffee table, both looking at the glasses in their hands. Buffy was trying to analyze herself – was she glad he was here? Was he there, like always, to offer her an escape? She knew nothing, just this: she missed Will.
Angel looked at the lines of his fist closed around the cup holding his coffee. A part of him was singing, being so close to Buffy. Another cried for Cordelia. As always, he was split, wondering what to do and where to go. But he knew, now, was surer. But right now, Buffy needed his help, he felt it in his the part of his heart that was still connected to hers... but what for? And where the heck was William...
He looked up. She had been staring at him. His eyes met hers, and she didn't look away. Angel wondered what had happened to the timid girl he had bumped into one day at school. The woman before him gave off the waves of one wholly independent, and in that independence, confident of herself and her abilities.
But only gave the waves. She looked a mess, crumpled jeans and wrinkled shirt, hair that lay flatly on her shoulders in tangles as though the life had been pulled out of them. As though the life had been pulled out of her.
And that's when he knew. He knew what had happened, without her saying a word. It was their old bond that stirred up, now, and he automatically put down his coffee and had walked around the table in two strides. He sat down next to her and took the cup from her trembling hands. He put it down next to his cup and pulled her towards him, enveloping her in a hug that was nothing but comforting. "Oh, Buffy..." He whispered, "It'll be okay, sweetie, you'll see..."
And in the arms of the lover she had rejected, Buffy allowed herself to cry for the first time that day. She cried for herself, for Will, for Angel. He held her until she had calmed, rubbing her back soothingly, whispering comforting words into her hair. After what seemed like hours, her sobs ceased and she fell asleep in Angel's arms.
She woke to find him gone.
Buffy sat up on the couch, looking around disconcertedly, while her mind wondered who she was looking for. Her heart seemed to know what it wanted, though, judging from the twinge it gave when Angel came ambling down the stairs.
"Oh," He said, a slight smile on his lips, "You're up?"
Buffy nodded, pulling her legs towards her body so she could loop her arms around them. Angel came to sit besides her. They sat in silence, the early light that was a mix of pink and golden flooding the living room around them. Angel picked at a thread on his trousers; Buffy surveyed the room and noticed his suitcases and bags. She couldn't resist asking, "When did you arrive?" She winced at the dryness of her voice that broke the silence.
Angel gave an easy shrug and leaned back. "Around eight last night. You were out."
She nodded, still looking at the carpet. "Yeah, I had... work to do."
"No you didn't." Buffy frowned and looked back at him. He was looking at her, a wry smile on his face. His tone was neither accusing nor demanding, just matter-of-fact. "I called the gallery and Harmony said you hadn't been in for almost two weeks, now."
She blushed at his catching her lie. "Fine," She said, looking at her toes, now. "I went to a bar. Happy?"
Angel gave a low chuckle. "That's okay, nothing to be ashamed of. If my asshole of a cousin has left you, you deserved a night out."
Buffy's throat tightened at the mention of Will. Her hands tightened around her knees and she forced herself to repel the tears that welled up. Instead, she asked Angel, through a choked throat, "H-How did you know I was in L.A.?"
She could feel his shrug. God, she used to hate him shrugging so much... "I wanted to get in touch with you when Xander told me you'd never arrived at London. I called the gallery from Rome; Harmony told me you were here. Oh she also told me you were dating one William Giles."
Buffy's eyes narrowed at her feet. Harmony! Boy, that girl was going down... But her mind changes tracks suddenly. Xander had arrived before Angel, so technically, Xander should have got the note. Had Xander told Angel that... "Angel," She croaked suddenly, "Did... did you get my note?" She looked at him to catch his expression.
His face was carefully blank. He put a hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that she had written her decision on. "You mean this?"
Her temples throbbed, her heart hurt with guilt. "Angel..." She whispered, looking at him pleadingly, "I'm so sorry..."
He smiled, then. "I got this just yesterday when I met up with Xander." He told her.
She swallowed. "Th-then... then you must have thought I was cheating on you when Harmony told you—"
Angel was shaking his head. When he looked up, she saw guilt in his eyes, too. What for, she couldn't understand. Until he said... "Buffy," His voice cracked, "Whatever you did, you did it thinking I knew we were broken up. But I'm the one who should be sorry..." He swallowed. "Buff, you know why I took so long coming back from Rome?" Without waiting for an answer, he rushed on, "I met someone, Buffy, in Rome. H-her name is Cordelia Chase. I've..." He sighed, knowing this would be hard for everyone involved in this affair, but knowing he had to say it anyway. "I've been with her all this time. I'm engaged to her, even though I thought the two of us were still together." He said this in a quiet voice, looking at his hands all the time. He looked up, now, and said, "You have nothing to worry about, Buffy. I'm the one who wrecked our relationship."
Buffy's face was white. Angel summoned to courage to look into her eyes and there he saw betrayal, hurt, pain, anger and... relief? Buffy was silent for the longest time. Angel felt every second that passed took away bit by bit of his being with it, but he didn't drop his eyes.
When she spoke to break the silence, Angel didn't know whether he would burst from relief or apprehension. She said, "Don't take the credit, Angel, for that. We were trying to save something beautiful from breaking ever since we met again.".
Her words hit Angel like rain, bringing a numb cold and release. Her voice was flat, but her eyes were bright with the spark of freedom
"I should have made sure you got the note. I guess I was trying to make things easier for myself so I could justify myself later when the time came. But now, the time is here and all I can tell you is that I am as much to blame as you." She was smiling the smallest smile, now, looking at the sun that rose over his shoulder. "But there is one thing, Angel, that I'm sure of, now, in this madness that is around me right now: I made the right decision in breaking things off with you." She looked back at him, the smile growing. She held out her hand and he took it, amazed at how small it was in his. "You think so too, you made the same choice, you knew what I did. And because of what you, what we did, Angel... we're free. Of each other, and the obligations that came with us." She smiled at him. "We're free."
Will touched the warm, honey coloured walls. This apartment gave off an aura of warmth; he wondered why its owner was leaving it. It was beautiful, comfortable, spacey. But then, everyone had their reasons... and, of course, he should be thankful that after almost a month of apartment searching, he had got this place on Fifth Avenue. He looked down at the city beneath his feet from the glass windows, making a decision.
He turned around to look at the broker. "Mr Webster," He said to the man with dark, wavy hair, "I love it," He announced, "And I want it."
Holden Webster grinned. "Great!" He said, "I thought you might not see how lovely this apartment is, considering how much it's cluttered right now, but I guess I underestimated you, Mr. Giles. You'll love this house. There are so may people who want it, but..." Webster trailed off, realizing he had let something slip.
Will picked up his uneasiness. "But what?"
The slight sag of his shoulders gave Webster away. "Well, Mr Giles," He said, "The owner will only give it to someone who she likes, you know. She understandably loves this house very much, you know, and wants to give it to someone who will take care of it."
Will frowned. Another hindrance... seemed like the whole world was out to get him. Ever since he'd made the decision to take back his control over Giles & Spencer's New York branch, hurdle after hurdle had pounced into his way, making life harder for him. First, the man who was managing things in his place refused to budge for his boss. After getting rid of the obnoxious man, he realized that over half his clients had left – they refused to work without Mr. Giles. When he had convinced those on the verge to taking their cases to Wolfram & Hart to do the opposite, Will realized he couldn't stay at the Plaza forever – he needed an apartment. And with all his furniture having moved halfway around the country, from New York to San Francisco, from San Francisco to L.A., he knew if he ever managed to get it back, it would be in terrible shape. So, he bought new furniture, then realized he needed an apartment, first. And after weeks and weeks, floors and floors, he had found this place he loved.
For which, apparently, he needed to go through an interview with its owner, Mrs. Abbott.
He sighed. Webster smiled helplessly, his heart thudding with hope that he wouldn't lose this commission. Will started to say something when Webster's phone buzzed. Holding up his file, Webster said, apologetically, "One moment, Mr. Giles, just one moment..." He looked at who was calling and something about the caller made him smile. Hitting the 'Talk' button, he said, "Hello?"
Will tuned him out and went back to the glass. The ground, twelve feet below him, was crowded with cars, cabs, buses and people. He liked New York – it was easy to get lost in the crowd, here.
He heard, through the shrieking of his mind, Webster calling him. He turned. Holden Webster was smiling. "She's coming right now, Mr. Giles; she was in the neighbourhood."
A mix of relief and a foreboding of the finality of his detachment with L.A. spread through Will. He nodded, and started pacing while Webster sank onto the couch, whose cushions had been put away, and picked up a book on psychology that lay on the floor.
After a few rounds of the living room, Will realized that sitting still might be better for his legs. Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch as Webster, he leaned over the arm and started going through the pile of books kept there. A classic caught his eye; he picked up Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, an old, old book that was falling apart and flipped through it, making sure the full book was there. He was going to start reading it when a name, written neatly in black, on the upper right corner of the first page caught his eye. He flipped back to it and his stomach dropped.
Buffy Summers.His eyes scanned the letters of her name, and he felt the ink on the yellowing page, making sure he wasn't seeing things. But no; he hadn't thought of her for weeks, he hadn't wanted to think of her, so why would be imagine things, now...
The trembling fingers flew from the letters to his lips; he kissed her name. And it was fitting that at that moment, the door unlocked and Tara McClay walked in.
"Ms. McClay!" Webster threw the book away and stood, moving to meet the blonde who hadn't seen them yet. "Mr. Giles and I thought we'd die of the wait!"
Tara smiled, pulling off her coat. "Well, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Holden, and Mr. Giles..." Her eyes moved to the couch, where Will was still sitting, book open on his lap and his hand to his mouth, eyes on her. She froze, eyes widening. "Will."
Minutes later, Holden Webster sat confusedly on the cushion-less couch as Tara and Will stood in the balcony, in spite of the cold and the drizzle, and talked.
"I didn't know you were Mrs. Abbott." Will said, looking down at the city, again.
She smiled, though he didn't see it. "That's my grandmother, Will. She technically owns the apartment, but I do all her legal work and I live here."
He smiled, too. "Correction, luv," He said, "Lived here."
Tara blushed. "I'm so glad I got the job in L.A." She told him softly. "That one week I had to stay away from Willow drove me mad. When I got the job and she asked me to move in..." Tara sighed. "It was amazing."
"I'm glad, pet, that it worked out for you two." His words were genuine enough, but his brow was furrowed.
Tara looked at him. "You don't look happy." She commented.
Will seemed to break out of a reverie; he shook his head and smiled. "I'm happy, Glinda, just have trouble expressing myself these days..."
Tara said, never taking her eyes off his face, "As does Buffy."
Automatically, his face hardened.
She smiled sadly. "I knew it," Her voice was so soft he could hardly hear.
"What did you know, pet?" Will spoke emotionlessly, his voice flat.
She didn't say anything, just looked out at the city. "I loved New York," She said, "I got lost in its streets." She reached sideways and took his hand. "I love L.A. more, because I don't want to get lost there. And I don't. I have a home, now."
Will looked at their joined hands. Suppressing his words, he said, "Will you sell me the house?"
Tara seemed crestfallen. Slowly, she let go of his hand and took one step back. "If you want it, Will, I won't stop you."
She started walking back towards the glass doors. Just when she was going to go in, she said, "Oh, by the way, Will, are you going to the wedding?"A/N: Very long chapter. Please review.