Chapter 12

Author's Note: My apologies to everyone for taking so ridiculously long to get this chapter posted. It was unavoidable. As those of you who read my Livejournal know, my dog passed away 2 weeks ago. I'd had her for 13 years so it was incredibly difficult and completely killed my ability to write. I must also apologize for not replying to the feedback I got on the last chapter. My mind has just been elsewhere recently. But thank you to everyone who sent comments! They were much appreciated!

Anyway, here's a new chapter finally! I hope you all enjoy it!

Isis FG

Four days passed in relative quiet for Angel. He went to work every day and did his job. At night, he came home, did a little more work, helped calm his sister down before one of her harder finals, and generally did nothing of interest. The contractors were almost done their work, so he'd started planning what he would need to do once the overhaul of the house was complete. In other words, his life had been down right boring. Why that bothered him, he couldn't say.

Since the night they'd gone Giles' house and seen Buffy, he'd not heard a word from Willow or Spike. He assumed it was because the redhead was still trying to recover from the shock. He'd seen how upset she'd been that night, and he didn't blame her one bit. Nothing about this situation was simple. He had, however, seen Xander. The younger man had stopped by just the night before

They'd shared a few beers, talked some. If he wasn't mistaken, Angel thought Xander seemed a bit lost by all that had happened. Again, he couldn't blame the reaction. He also knew that Xander was still feeling guilt over not standing solidly by Buffy after the rape. That was something Xander would have to settle on his own. There was nothing Angel could do about it.

Also, in the past four days, Angel had not seen or spoken to Buffy, not since that night on the beach. He hadn't returned to the beach at night since then. It hadn't seemed right. He didn't want to intrude. If that was her one spot where she found some modicum of peace, it wasn't his right to take that away. So he'd stayed away, and she had yet to take up his invitation to visit his house.

He wanted to see her again, to talk to her again. He wanted to hear her voice, to see those little flutters of a smile form on her face. And he wanted to help her. Not for an instant, did he believe her guilty of multiple murders. Unfortunately, the police, and the public at large, did. Until the truth, whatever it was, came out about what had happened to her family, she would never be able to move on, to begin to live life again.

That, most of all, was what he wanted. To see her live life, see her really, truly smile. It was ludicrous to want such things for someone he hardly knew, but he did. The tragic story of her life had struck a chord in him, and now that he'd met her, spoken to her, his involvement had only grown stronger.

What was it about her, he wondered for the millionth time. She was beautiful, yes. He'd have to be dead not to be struck by her beauty, or to be drawn in by those sad green eyes. But it was more than that. He was awed by her inner strength. After all she'd been through, she was still existing. Maybe not thriving, but she'd not given up, not given in to the pain and torment. She was still trudging on. And he wanted to help her break the rest of the way free of the life that had boxed her in and cut her off from the world.

He had no idea how he was going to do that. But he would.

Sighing, Angel tossed the book he'd been trying to read onto the living room coffee table. He'd been trying to read the damn thing for the past hour and a half, but his mind kept wandering. And now it was nearing one in the morning. Luckily, he didn't have to in to work until late the next day. One of the perks of his job. His hours were flexible.

Since he wasn't getting anywhere with the current bestseller on his coffee table, Angel opted to head into the kitchen for a late night snack. He thought he still had half a sandwich in his fridge. He'd munch on that, try to read another chapter in the book, and then hopefully drag himself off to bed.

Just as he was nearing the kitchen, Angel heard the soft knock on his back door, and his steps faltered. As he entered the doorway, he stopped and stared. The heavy wooden door leading to the outside from the kitchen was open. The thin, screened door was closed, keeping the nighttime insects from getting into the house. And on the other side of the screen was Buffy.

She saw him enter the kitchen and stare. Unease rose within her as her hands clenched together at her waist, and her feet shifted nervously. The urge to run, to return to the solitary safety of her rooms was great. She worried she'd made a mistake coming. He'd told her she could come, but maybe he hadn't meant it. Maybe he'd just been being nice and hoped she didn't take him up on the offer. But she'd wanted to see him again. He'd been nice to talk to that night on the beach.

"I saw your lights on," she finally said, talking through the screen that separated them.

The sound of her voice snapped Angel out of the mild daze he'd slipped into when he'd seen her at his door. "Do you want to come in?" he asked as he walked toward the door.

"I don't want to bother you. I know it's late," she told him, her hands still clenching.

"No, it's okay. I couldn't sleep." Angel crossed the rest of the way to the door and pushed it open slightly, letting her know she could come in.

Buffy pulled the door open the rest of the way and slowly entered the kitchen. She couldn't stop herself from being nervous. She didn't want to be an annoyance. The beach had seemed so lonely as she'd sat out on it, and when she'd seen his lights still on, she'd taken a chance.

The little voice inside her head told her that she shouldn't be here, that she hardly knew this man whose kitchen she was standing in. Alone with. And he was so much bigger than she was. No, she thought to herself. She couldn't allow herself to be afraid of every single person she came into contact with. Her father and friends knew Angel. That had to mean something. But then again, she'd known Cameron Walker for a long time before...well, before.

Angel couldn't have missed the nervous, worrying fear on her face, in her eyes. It shown clearly. He didn't know exactly what she was afraid of, there were so many things it could be, but he hated it. So he decided to be blunt, and hope to ease whatever the fears were.

"I won't do anything to hurt you," he promised, his voice gentle. "And I wouldn't have invited you in if I didn't want you to come it."

A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized her feelings had been that transparent. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

"It's okay. I understand," he assured her. "Do you, uh, want something to drink? We can go into the living and sit down."

"Okay," Buffy agreed and took the bottle of juice Angel offered her

He led her into the living room, glad that he'd taken the time to straighten up a bit earlier that evening. Buffy stood in the center of the room, taking in her surroundings. She couldn't help but be curious about everything. For so long the only places she really saw were her rooms and the beach. So she began to wander the room, looking at everything. The pictures on top the mantle caught her attention quickly.

In the middle, was a photo of Angel and a young woman with long brown hair and a thin face. Both the woman and Angel were smiling brightly and one of his arms was around her shoulders. A little pang of jealousy snuck up and surprised Buffy. They were so casual, so comfortable with each other, she thought.

Angel stepped up beside Buffy, took the picture she was studying in his hands. "That's my sister, Fred," he told her.

Tilting her head upwards, Buffy looked up at Angel. "You have a sister?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Well, actually, she's my half sister, but we're really close. She lives in Los Angeles."

"I had a brother and a sister," she said softly, a hint of tears in her voice as she cast her eyes away.

The pain in her words broke Angel's heart. He knew what it was like to lose people you loved from the deaths of his father and step-mother, and he couldn't imagine ever losing Fred. "You must miss them a lot," he responded, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. She didn't answer, merely nodded her head slightly. "Oh," he blurted out, suddenly remembering something. "I have something for you."

He trotted out of the room, and grabbed a small plastic bag off the entryway table. He'd just picked it up after work today. Reentering the living room, he walked back to Buffy, handed her the little baggie.

Confused, she stared at him for a moment before gazing down at what he'd placed in her hand. Tears formed in her eyes when she saw what it was. "My locket," she whispered and pulled it out of the bag before clutching it tightly in her hand.

"I found it on the beach," Angel explained. "The clasp was broken. I took it to a jeweler and had the chain fixed."

"I thought it was gone." Her eyes were big and swimming with tears when she looked back up at Angel. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled, thankful that he'd found something that was obviously important to her. "Here," he took the locket out of her hand. "I'll help you put it back on."

"O-okay," she stuttered her answer. He was being so nice to her. It wasn't something she was used to. But she turned around anyway and lifted up her hair.

Angel unclasped the chain, draped it around her neck. Being so close, he could smell the scent of her shampoo. Something citrus-y. His fingers brushed the back of her neck, teasing him with the softness of her skin. Before he did something stupid, Angel quickly hooked the chain together and stepped back. If he'd stayed that close to her any longer, he would have done something monumentally dumbe, like kissing the curve of skin between her shoulder and neck. No, he definitely couldn't do something like that.

In desperate need to distract himself, he picked up the bottle of juice she'd set down on the mantle and handed it to her. "It's probably getting warm," he said then retrieved his own drink from the coffee table.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy mumbled, fighting off a shudder that had been threatening to overcome her the moment his fingers had skimmed her neck. God, she'd never felt quite so...fluttery...around a guy before. It was strange, but not in a bad way.

She took a sip of her juice and began to wander the room again, all the while wondering what his fingers would have felt like if they'd remained a little longer on her skin. She quickly pushed the foreign thoughts away, though. A trio of photographs on the wall drew her attention. She studied them for a minute, enjoying the beautiful landscapes portrayed.

"These are really pretty," she commented, crouching a little to get a better look at the middle photo. "Where are they from?"

"Those I took in a rain forest in South America," he relayed, taking a seat on the couch as he enjoyed seeing her in his space, looking at his things.

Turning, she gazed at him curiously. "You took them?"

"Yeah. I'm a photographer," he told her. "Actually, I work for your father now at his magazine."

A twinge clutched at her heart at the mention of her father, but she pushed it away. "Oh. I didn't know that."

"I just started a couple of weeks ago," he corrected. "I used to travel all the time and I got tired of it"

"Is that why you moved here?" she asked as she walked over to the couch, sat down on the end opposite Angel, unconsciously putting as much space between them as possible.

"Pretty much. I wanted to have an actual house for once," Angel explained, happy to see that she appeared to be relaxing some in his presence. It felt good, right, to sit in his living room and talk to her. He was going to hate himself in the morning, though, when he had to get up after less sleep than he was used to.

"Won't you miss traveling to all those place though?" Buffy wondered, glancing at his rain forest photos.

"A little," he said with a shrug. "But I've spent almost my whole entire life moving around, even when I was a kid."

"Really?" Buffy curled herself up on the couch, content to listen to Angel talk. He had such a deep, soothing voice. And she wanted to learn more about him, who he is, what he liked, what he'd done. It'd been so long since she'd been able to have a real conversation.

Angel saw that she was genuinely interested in things about his life. She was tucked into the corner of the couch, watching him intently. It warmed him to see her relaxing inch by inch, muscle by muscle. So he continued to talk.

"My father was an archaeologist," he began, and settled himself further into the couch. "When I was a kid, I spent most of my time at dig sites with him. Since we moved around a lot, I didn't go to school much. I had tutors though."

He maintained the conversation, telling about how he'd grown up. She asked about his birth mother and he told her he'd never met her. But he talked about the trip to Texas and how his father had met his step-mother, and then getting a little sister. He hesitantly told her about how Fred had come to live with him after her mother's death, and how only a short year later they'd lost their father. It didn't miss his notice that her eyes darted away when he talked about the deaths of both of them. All the while, though, she listened.

"You must have traveled to a lot of places," she said after he'd gone through the last chapter of his life, when he was a photographer for National Geographic.

"I've been to every continent," he answered, unable to smother the pride in the statement.

"What's the coolest place you've been?" she asked as her head leaned back against the couch cushions.

"Probably Madagascar," Angel mused. "Seeing the lemurs was pretty neat."

"Lemurs?" Buffy repeated, slightly awed. "That must have been amazing."

"It was," Angel agreed whole-heartedly. It definitely had been one of his favorite trips. "Madagascar is the only place in the world to see them. Well, other than zoos."

"Tell me about them," she requested, tucking her knees up tighter underneath her while trying to stifle a yawn.

So he did. He revisited the trip in his mind, telling her about wandering through the forest, seeing the silly looking animals traipsing through the canopy, hearing their high squealing calls. And he talked about how in some villages the lemurs were virtually domesticated because their habitat had merged with the villages. They begged for food, leaped on his shoulder. He also told of the other problems facing the species other than habitat destruction. About how the isolation of family groups led to inbreeding that caused physical malformations. He'd seen more than one of the furry creatures missing eyes.

Buffy listened to it all, amused by the tale, and saddened by it as well. She wished she could see something like that. She wished she could go to Madagascar, go anywhere other than Sunnydale. But it was nice to hear him talk of his travels. And soon, his calming voice lulled her into sleep.

Angel saw her eyes drift shut, but kept talking softly. Even though he knew she was asleep, he moved on to the horrible trip to Antarctica where he'd frozen his ass off. Someday, he'd tell her again when she was awake.

After ten minutes, he trailed off, and simply watched her sleep. It wasn't long after he'd stopped that Angel saw her expression change. The muscles in her face tensed, her hands clenched where they sat in her lap. A frown formed on her face as her body shifted restlessly. A nightmare, he thought. She'd told him she had them. He was just about to try to wake her up gently when her shout sounded through the quiet room.

"No!" Her eyes shot open and she pressed herself further into the corner of the couch. Wild eyes darted around the room, her heavy breaths making her chest heave.

Shifting over on the couch, Angel carefully took one of her hands, clasped it in his. "Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream."

She stared at him, her eyes slowly focusing, her breathing beginning to return to normal. "Angel?" she whispered, blinked at him.

"Yeah. You fell asleep," he explained softly.

"I...I had a nightmare," she said dejectedly, holding back a sob.

"It's okay," Angel repeated, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"No." She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut. "The never go away," she murmured sadly, a tear sneaking down her cheek.

More tears followed, and needing to do something, Angel pulled her close. When she didn't fight him, he rested her head on his shoulder. Her choked sobs shook her body, but he did the best he could to sooth her. He stroked her back, murmured soothing words.

After a few minutes, her sobs calmed, and she sniffled loudly. "I'm sorry," she said tiredly. "I didn't mean to cry all over you."

"I didn't mind," he answered honestly. "It must be hard," he continued, referring to the nightmares.

She nodded, sighed heavily. All she wanted was to be able to sleep without being haunted in her dreams. It wasn't until then that she fully realized that she was in Angel's arms. She could feel his hand tracing up and down her spine. But she didn't feel fear as she had often felt after the rape. There was nothing about Angel that made her feel fear. He made her feel like Buffy. Just Buffy. It was tempting to just stay there with his arm holding her to him.

"I should go home," she finally said.

"Okay." Angel slid his arm from around her back, took her hand. "I'll walk with you."

Buffy smiled at him, glad to have just a few more minutes of his time. Together, they left the house and headed down the beach and into the path through woods that led up onto the cliffs and her house.

TBC