He just kind of looked at her for a moment before heading towards the staircase and climbing up. As the room came into Buffy's view she almost gasped. Black and White pictures lined the wall, filled with icons like The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin and Peter Frampton. She walked all around the room, running her fingers over the old fashioned lamp and lounge chair that sat in the corner as the thatched rug rubbed under her feet. A little desk with folders and books and pens scattered all around the top, sat at one side up against the fence that separated the open air with the floor. Just as Buffy reached a bookshelf that she was sure was lined with once again more leather bound classics, Angel had flicked on the light. She was shocked though to see the bookcase lined with old records, one after another, crammed into every available spot.

"Oh my gosh." She whispered it in awe. There was close to five hundred records staring her in the face as the old player sat in the corner, shockingly undusty. She smiled. "Do you play these?"

Angel had come up behind her understanding her amazement as she took it all in. He had seen each and every one of these before, even listened to them, but he never was able to get over the fact that right before his eyes were some things that people were currently paying millions for on E-bay. "Of course I play these. They kind of calm me down after a bad day."

Buffy lightly touched the outer casings of them all. "Are they all just unknowns or something?" She couldn't see any of the names on the old vinyl records.

Angel slowly started to smile and was grateful that his father had left all this behind. "Take a look."

Biting her lip, wondering what she would find, she randomly picked a record and pulled it out, her eyes went wide. "Creedence Clear Water? You have an original Creedence Clear Water record?"

He nodded

"Angel… that's… do you even know what you have?"

He laughed. "Believe me. I'm well aware of what I have up here. Look around the room Buffy."

Setting down the record with great ease she looked around the room, not really noticing anything different from when she first entered here, but her eyes strayed closer to the walls finally and her mouth went dry with shock. "The White Album." She looked at Angel as her eyes went as wide as they could go. "You have the White Album."

He nodded once again laughing at her expression. He never thought he would be able to shock and awe a girl like Buffy. A girl who seemed to have the perfect life. "I have all The Beatles records."

Buffy looked around the room and sure enough each and every Beatle record was hung prominently on the wall, the records and their casings framed side by side. Buffy went up and looked at them more closely, her reflecting appearing in the glass that covered the precious items. "This is insane. It's unbelievable." Angel slid down the wall and watched as she walked all around the room, looking at the framed records in turn, taking them all in. "How the hell did you get your hands on these things?"

"My dad." He said simply. "He was this big music fan. He loved every aspect of it and bought all the records he could. He used to go out every pay day to a little vintage shop a couple towns out, and he'd come home each time with three or four new records. Apparently he had been doing that from the time he was thirteen. There was one day when I was probably about ten that he spent the whole day up here, taking out every single Beatles record that we owned and listening to them, and then framing them and sealing them shut."

She turned to him. "You've never listened to these things? How could you never listen to these things? Aren't there like hidden messages in them if you play them backwards?"

"You referring to the whole 'Paul is dead' thing."

"Well, that seems to be the most obvious one."

"I've heard it before. My dad played it for me all the time. I was absolutely fascinated with it for some reason asking him to play it for me every single time he was up here."

"You were a morbid child." She deadpanned to him.

"Hey. I was curious."

Smiling she slid down next to him on the floor still gazing at them all in utter amazement. "You must have millions sitting here. Beyond millions in fact. You probably have more money then my dad does."

Angel shrugged. "I guess. I mean, whenever we're in it pretty bad I usually sell one of these. One of the less popular ones, but… I just can't really bring myself to sell it all. I may hate my father but some of my best memories of him are when we would listen to music. I have to believe that at some point in time he was a good guy. I don't want to think that the time that we did spend together, however little it actually was, meant nothing. That it wasn't a lie." He said, trying carefully to choose the right words in hopes she would understand. "You probably don't get that."

Buffy looked down at her crossed legs. Isn't that what she always hoped for? Was for at one point in time her father and her did have fun? That she wasn't scared of him when she came home, wasn't afraid to see what he would do to her if she didn't do exactly what he said. Part of her needed to also believe that somewhere within the monster a good man still lived. The dad that used to put her up on his shoulders so she could watch the Macy's Day Parade better, or the dad that would buy her the biggest ice cream cone they could find when they went to the park, he had to still be inside there somewhere. He had to still be a nice guy. And that was partly the reason why she hadn't ran away forever yet. She was still holding out with the hope that her dad, her real one, the one that didn't treat her as a ten dollar whore, was in there some where. "Believe it or not, I know exactly what you mean."

Angel looked at her funny. He knew something was up. He wasn't really sure what but he knew that something was wrong with her and he was guessing that it had to do with her family. How many times was he able to count the looks that she gave when Kathy and him were together? How many times had she given that far off nervous look as he mentioned certain things? More then he could even count. But what was he supposed to do? He didn't feel comfortable with approaching her, confronting her about any of this. He barely even knew this girl. Tonight alone he had learned more about her then he had in the past couple of months. But there was something lurking deeper in her. That same something was the reason she had been out with that guy the one night, and the night she didn't pick up Kathy. But right now, he needed to just settle for her taste in music and not her life story.

"So, what's your favorite song?" She asked, trying really hard to change the subject around.

"My favorite song?" He was completely aware of the abrupt change in subject, but he didn't dwell on it, if she didn't want to talk about it, then so be it. :You can't just pick one song. There's so many out there. To pick one song is just impossible."

"No it's not."

"Oh really? You have a favorite song?"

"Yup."

"You going to enlighten me then on this Buffy wisdom."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you think that I'm some little rich girl who probably only likes pop albums." She crossed her arms with a defiant smirk on her face.

"Buffy, the fact that you knew that if you play The White Album backwards you hear 'Paul is dead' proves to me that you don't really go for the boy bands.."

"Got that right. I like plenty of music. I like Areosmith, and Green Day, Aimee Man, SugarCult, The Eagles, Switchfoot, Creedence, The Beatles, Queen, and the list just goes on."

He smiled. "So in this whole entire diversity of music, which one is your favorite song?"

"American Pie by Don Mclean hands down."

Angel looked at her in shock. "You're kidding me."

"Nope. That song is the best one out there no mater what anyone says."

Angel laughed and pointed to a wall where a picture of Don McLean stood out with frames holding photos of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and The Big Bopper in a frame right beside it. The frames that surrounded them were ones filled with depictions of the process of the age of innocence going straight into Hell on Earth. The burning of the flags, the revolution of rock and roll music, black rights, protests and riots, anything that seemed to be talked about in that song stood proud against the white board they were posted to, the lyrics of American Pie printed behind them.

She smiled and shook her head. "I should have known."

"I told you. My dad loved music." Getting up Angel went over and pulled out a record case, seeming to know exactly where each and every vinyl laid on that crowded shelf, putting one on and letting it fill the room with the haunting words of the Eagles Hotel California.

Buffy leaned her head up against the wall practically in heaven. This was perfect. Up here no worries seemed to follow her. The room seemed to take them away the moment you entered.. She heard Angel slide down beside her again.

"So was your dad a musician or something? I mean, with the way he loved music so much you would think that that would be his perfect profession."

"He was a singer in high school and college. Apparently that's how my mom and him fell in love. She came to one of his performances in an outside park like thing in the seventies and fell in love with him as he stood up there singing some sort of song about the revolution or something like that." He smiled. "God they were so in love."

Buffy wanted to ask what happened, but didn't want to push it. Besides, tough subjects like that were probably best shied away from at the moment. She didn't want him opening up to her only to have him ask her some personal questions himself, backing her into a corner.

"Any of his talent rub off on you?" He looked down a little embarrassed as he just kind of shrugged. Buffy slowly broke out into a smile "Are you lying to me?" He was silent. "It did didn't it?" She said excitingly. "What do you do, sing, play an instrument? Come on, what'd you do?"

He turned to her. "It's nothing really. I just… I write a little bit. That's it."

"You write songs?"

"Yeah."

"Do you sing them too?"

He nodded. "And play them on the guitar."

She turned to him and jumped up and down in her sitting position a little. "That is so cool!"

"It's just an outlet to frustrations. I haven't really written anything for awhile. I sing what's already made mostly."

"Can I hear you?"

"No." He laughed. "No way in hell is that one happening."

"Oh come on! If your dad was a singer then you've got to have a good voice too."

"My music is just a stress reliever that's all."

She squinted her eyes a little bit and leaned forward like she was about to tell him a secret. "So you're telling me that if I went over to that desk right there, none of the papers that are scattered around the top would have original songs that you composed on them?"

"I never said that."

She smiled and leaned back triumphantly for the moment. "Sooner or later you're going to have to sing for me."

"Keep dreaming." They were silent for a moment, just listening to the music waft around the wood walls of the room, looking at the moonlight that poured through the window. "So, I've told you stuff about my life, now it's your turn."

"What?" She said a little shocked. She had been trying to keep the conversation off of her.

"Come on. It's only fair. Look, we'll keep to safe topics. Tell me about your dad. I mean, he's obviously not the person that everyone else see's." Buffy's head snapped to his as she looked at him with unhidden fear. "I just mean," He added at her look. "That he can't be the perfect icon that everyone looks up to. That's just inhuman. Not that he's a bad man or anything." He rushed quickly. "I mean he's obviously this stand up guy. I just mean that since you're his daughter you've got to know something that others don't. Something that humanizes him a little bit more. Shows me that he's not a fake."

Buffy bit her lip and looked everywhere around the room except at Angel. Her eyes skipped nervously from picture to picture, begging the still forms to give her a way to get out of this situation as tears came to her eyes.

"Buffy?" Angel couldn't miss the wetness that was now shinning through her usual happy exterior. "I'm sorry Buffy. I really didn't mean to say anything bad about your dad. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I shouldn't have even asked…"

"No, it's okay really."

"Then why are you crying?"

She ran a hand through her hair and wiped her teary eyes on the sleeve of her red shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go all weepy on you. It must be that time of month or something. My hormones are out of whack I guess."

Angel was about to say something when it caught his eyes. As she lifted her sleeve to wipe away the tears, her wrist was slightly exposed. Dark fingerprint bruises were clearly seen on her arm. The deep purples and green's stood out prominently against the pallor of her skin. He slowly let the situation drop, feeling uneasy about all this himself as thoughts that he knew had to be completely ridiculous filled his head. But thinking back on it, he couldn't' remember a time where he had seen Buffy in anything other then jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt.

Getting up and giving her a little bit of privacy, trying to get his mind off certain thoughts himself, he went and took the Eagles off of his player and turned away as he searched for another record as Buffy dabbed the rest of her tears away so as not to smear her eye liner. She had a brief moment of terror as she realized that her bruises had been exposed slightly, but she just kept telling herself that if by some small chance Angel had noticed, he had obviously shrugged it away, or he didn't believe her like everyone else in town did. Either way though, she tugged her sleeves down a little bit more, holding them in place with her fingers.

The record player clicked for a few minutes, the static filling the now silent room, and then Paul McCartney's voice wafted up as "Maybe I'm Amazed" came on.

Buffy smiled as he turned to her. "You know, it's said that this song was written about his wife before she died of cancer. The words, the feelings, every ounce he puts into it when he sings it now still lets you know that he loves his first wife like no one else." She sniffled a little. "People like him are the only reasons why I think that love exists somewhere out there. It's not always happy, and it's definitely not always easy, but for some, it's there and it's true, and unfortunately it usually ends with heartbreak."

Angel looked at her sadly, not realizing he was moving toward her until his words had already been spoken and he had extended his hand. "Dance with me?"

Buffy looked at him with a little bit of confusion written on her face for a moment before smiling and taking his offered hand. In all her life, in all the boys she had seen, not a single one of them had ever asked her to dance. There dancing usually was either done in the back of a car or in-between the sheets. It hit her then how much different Angel was compared to all the other guys out there. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands touching her waist lightly, Buffy sighed. This was perfect. Her life didn't exist here. Here all there was was sweet love songs where beatings didn't touch their words.

And it was here in Angel's arms that Buffy finally felt safe.