Chapter 13

Angel stood in the center of his living room and stared at his couch. He had to be nuts. And he'd told himself that a number of times since he'd gotten home from work. Temporary insanity, that's what it was. It had to be. There was no other way to explain it.

Walking over to the couch, he stared down at the little black ball of fur. A kitten. Good grief, what had he been thinking? He didn't know anything about taking care of animals. He'd never in his life had a pet before. It hadn't been possible when he was traveling so much. He liked animals, and cats, just fine, but he didn't know a thing about how to take care of it. So why in the world had he agreed to take it? Because he was a sucker, that's why.

One of the copy editors had brought several kittens around the building today, saying they were free and that she needed to find a home for them. He'd been intent on saying no. He was sure of it. But then the young woman had thrust the sleeping kitten into his arms, and he'd been unable to hand it back. So now he had a kitten.

As if sensing its new master's thoughts, the fuzzy ball of black fur lifted its head, stared at Angel, then rolled over on its side. Angel chuckled and bent down to scratch its belly. The kitten purred, batted at his arm, and Angel sighed. It really was cute.

"I guess you're probably hungry," he said to it, scooping it up and holding it against his chest.

Together, they walked into the kitchen where Angel had placed the bags from the pet store. He'd stopped there after work, knowing he'd need food, a litter box, some toys, and whatever else cats needed. When he'd left the store, his pocket had been quite a bit lighter, and he'd had several bags hanging from his arm. He told himself afterward that the kitten really had needed the catnip mouse, the balls with bells in them, the feather thing to chase around, and a really fluffy fleece bed. The kitten wouldn't want for anything, that was for sure.

Angel began digging through the bags, looking for the cat food he knew he'd bought, all the while holding the kitten in the other hand. So occupied in his search, he almost didn't hear the knock on back door. But he heard it, and without and turning around, he knew who was there. So he pulled his hand out of the bag he'd been searching, faced the door, and smiled.

Just as she'd done three nights before, Buffy stood on the other side, waiting with uncertainty in her eyes. He spared only a moment's thought for the fact that it was only nine at night, just past sunset and not her normal time for her beach walks. That was something to think about later.

"Come in," he told her, still smiling.

Buffy cautiously pulled open the screen door, and took a step into the kitchen. "I'm not bothering you, am I?" she asked.

"No, not at all. I was just-."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, interrupting him without a second thought. "What's that?" Buffy pointed to the little wriggly ball of black fur held in Angel's right hand against his chest.

"A kitten," he answered, and turned his body slightly so that the kitten's face could be seen by Buffy. Her eyes brightened, and the most genuine smile he'd ever seen on her appeared instantly. She cooed at the kitten, stroked its soft ears. The simple pleasure shown on her face made Angel instantly glad he'd taken the cat. He'd have taken five cats if it would make her happy.

"Wanna hold...," Angel trailed off, frowned, as he suddenly realized he had no idea whether the kitten was male or female. He rolled it onto its belly, peered contemplatively. "Her. Wanna hold her?"

"Of course," she answered, happily taking the kitten out of his hand and cuddling it against her cheek. When the kitten mewled near her ear, Buffy laughed and tickled its nose.

"I, uh, bought her some toys and stuff," he stated, gesturing to the bag.

Buffy peered at the five bags curiously. "Did you buy enough?"

He shrugged, not wanting to admit he'd been a total sucker for a ball of fur. "Here," he grabbed the bags, began setting on the floor. "You can help me go through all of it."

Complying happily, Buffy dropped down to the floor, setting the kitten on her lap. Within moments, she was pulling packages out of the bag, and taking toys out of their wrappers. Each one she showed to the kitten, waggling a cat nip mouse in front of its nose or running the weird looking feather thing over its ears.

Angel watched, more than just a little bewildered. In the span of a few short minutes, the shy, nervous, fearful Buffy that he'd encountered previously had been replaced by a smiling and giggling young woman. The difference was night and day. It was just further proof to him that she had yet to be completely beaten. The real Buffy was still lurking inside, and in a carefree moment such as this, he was getting a chance to she her. It made him feel lucky. So he scooted closer and helped her empty out the bags.

Buffy held up one of the items, looked at it then looked at Angel. "Cute," she chuckled, not bothering to hide her amusement at the lime green ceramic food dish with a grinning cartoon cat painted on the inside.

"It was either that," Angel relayed solemnly, "Or the one spotted like a cow. I thought this one was more interesting."

"I see your point," she agreed and began opening a container of kitten food while Angel stood and went to the sink to wash the dish. "I hope you like seafood medley," she said to the kitten.

After drying the dish, Angel sat back down and dumped the food into the bowl. They watched as the kitten, drawn by the smell, cautiously crept to the food. She circled the dish, bobbed her head then dared to take a nibble. Assured the food was good, the kitten dug in with a vengeance.

"She's adorable, Angel," Buffy said, her smile still brilliant, unguarded, and free of the past.

"Yeah, she is pretty cute," he concurred though his eyes were solely directed at Buffy. She looked so happy, and over the simply pleasure of a kitten. He made a mental note to take the young copy editor one of those mocha drinks for foisting the animal on him.

"What are you going to name her," she asked, reaching out to stroke the cat's fluffy tale.

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." He paused, considering, then said, "Why don't you pick a name?"

"Me?" she replied, shocked. He wanted her to name his kitten. The very idea was almost baffling.

"You'd probably pick something better than I would," he explained with a smile.

"Hmm...if you're sure...," she trailed off, uncertain.

Angel nodded, so Buffy turned her attention back to the kitten. She pursed her lips contemplatively as she studied the animal. It was pure black, not a stitch of any other color, except for the eyes. They were a bright, lively green. It was the solid black that struck her most, though. So dark, darker than the midnight sky she often found herself walking under.

"Shadow," she finally decided on then looked to Angel to see his reaction. She hoped he liked it and didn't laugh at her or think she was silly.

"I like it," he replied swiftly. "It's perfect."

She smiled, almost shyly, at his seemingly pleased acceptance of the name. Not for the first time, she wondered why he was being so nice to her, and why she found herself so comfortable around him. It defied her past experiences. But she enjoyed sitting here with him. So she rejected all thoughts of asking him why for fear of annoying him or making him send her away.

They sat for another half hour, unpacking Shadow's plethora of supplies and showing all the fun toys Angel had bought for her. Buffy's laughter rang throughout the kitchen frequently. Angel couldn't have been happier about the situation. The tiny black kitten seemed to have been just what she needed to help wipe away some of the dark cloud that constantly hung over her head, if even for only a little while. For a short time, they could both forget that things weren't normal.

Shaking his head, Angel stared down at Shadow, who'd curled up in a ball and fallen asleep on one of the plastic shopping bags from the pet store. "I guess I wasted my money on the cushy cat bed," he said in mock dismay. "That thing is nicer than my bed."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to share it with you," Buffy joked, her lips quirking as she tried to hold back a laugh.

"I think I'll stick to my bed. I don't think I'd fit on that one," he replied and nodded to the circular bed. Both laughed at the silly idea of Angel curling up on the two foot circle of fleece.

While Angel went up to the attic to search through his boxes of things for a basket to put the cat's things in, Buffy remained downstairs, playing some more with Shadow. When he returned, Angel, anxious to spend just a little more time with Buffy, offered her some dinner.

They sat at the kitchen table, eating turkey sandwiches and potato chips while watching the kitten bat a ball with a bell in it around the tiled floor. The mood was light, thoughts of murder, rape, and harassment far from either's minds. But all too soon, the meal was over.

"I guess I should go back," Buffy said reluctantly. She didn't want to leave. Angel treated her like a normal person, and he was so nice and fun to be with. She didn't want to leave him to go back to her third floor prison. But she had to.

Angel walked her to the screen door, stopped before opening it. He didn't want her to go, didn't want to face the prospect of the rest of the evening alone in his house. He'd been obsessed with her before even their first meeting when he'd only known the tragic circumstances of her life, and her supposed death. Now that he'd spent time with her, it seemed his obsession was steadily growing.

Just inside the door, they both stood unmoving, reluctant to part. Without thinking too much about it, Angel reached down, gently took one of her hands in his. "You'll come back soon?" he asked softly.

Buffy stared down at her hand gripped in his much larger one. His fingers were warm and strong on hers. A dizzying feeling churned in her stomach, one she wasn't entirely familiar with. She raised her eyes upwards, saw him watching her silently, intently.

"Yeah," she whispered, unable to draw her gaze away from his.

Angel's mind seemed to switch off. Any sense of logic or reason he had fled. Only one thing seemed to be able to permeate his brain. So slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his head until his lips were a scant inch from hers. He hovered there for a moment before touching his mouth to hers.

He didn't know which one of them sighed at that first touch. It could have been him, it could have been her. Or it could have been both of them.

The kiss was hesitant, gentle. They touched only at their mouths, and at the hand Angel still held in his. But it was the touch of lips that held precedence. Angel rubbed his lips lightly on hers, learning their soft, warm texture. He didn't press, he didn't force. Just savored.

Her response was slow to come, but he felt the tightened grip of her hand, the slight tilt of her head backwards to accommodate him. The silent encouragement had him raising his unfettered hand to the back of her neck, cupping the soft skin. It wasn't until he heard the barely audible moan coming from Buffy that he realized what he was doing.

His brain clicked back into place with a resounding snap. It took all his self control not to jump away from her. Or to pull her closer. So he gently eased back, his eyes on her the entire time. He watched as her eyelids fluttered opened and she stared at him with a warm shyness that humbled him.

Giving her hand a light squeeze, he let go, took another step back. "I'll see you soon," he managed to say.

Buffy nodded, unable to find her voice to say anything. She backed up a step, bumped into the screen door. She forced herself to smile at him before quickly opening the door and dashing outside. It wasn't until she was well away from the house that she let out the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.

Her quick steps took her into the woods, where she abruptly stopped, leaned back against a tall tree. Her heart was pounding, and not from her rapid retreat from Angel's house. It was the kiss. Angel had kissed her. He'd kissed her unlike she'd ever been kissed before in her life. Shocked and amazed, she raised her clenched hands, pressed them over her speeding heart.

Back inside the house, Angel hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were still trained on the door Buffy had just fled from. He worried that he'd scared her. But she'd smiled at him before leaving. That had to be a good thing, right? He didn't know. The last thing he'd planned on doing was kissing her. His desire had gotten the best of him.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Angel walked over to the counter, leaned back against it. What had be been thinking? Well, he hadn't been thinking. But, God, all he'd been able to think about at that moment was kissing her. She'd looked so sweet, so wonderful, staring up at him with her green eyes. He hadn't been able to resist. In the future, he'd have to learn how to. The yearning in his body would just have to be put on hold. Now was really not the time to be thinking about what she'd feel like under him, her silky skin pressing against him. No, he really, really shouldn't be thinking things like that, especially give her past circumstances. His hormones would just have to take a very long, very cold shower.

Angel paced the kitchen, trying to put all thoughts of kissing Buffy out of his mind. Think about anything else, he told himself. Anything but Buffy's soft, sweet mouth. He groaned, nearly gave in to the urge bang his head against a wall.

A crash coming from the direction of his office ceases Angel's pacing. He frowned, his attention going on alert. After a second's pause, he started toward his office, stopped. He remembered that he was in Sunnydale, and the things that had happened in this town previously. Warily, he glanced around the kitchen. He didn't bother to wonder if he was overreacting as he grabbed the largest knife from the butcher's block. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.

He walked with light footsteps down the hall and came to a halt just outside his office. The soft light of the floor lamp he'd left on shown through the doorway. Slowly, he poked his head forward. And laughed. There, sitting on top of his desk, was the kitten, her green eyes peering at him in what he suspected was amusement.

Angel approached the desk still chuckling. He wondered how the kitten had managed to get herself all the way up on his desk. Scooping Shadow up, he glanced around at his desk. It appeared as though she'd knocked a few things over during her little adventure. He righted the pencil holder, replaced the pencils. Some papers had been shuffled around too so he stacked them back in a pile. The folder on top caught his eye. It was the one he'd placed all the internet articles on the murders of Buffy's family in.

The sight of the folder turned all of his thoughts away from kissing Buffy and shifted them to the puzzle of what had happened to her. He skirted his desk and sat down in his chair, placing the kitten in his lap. He realized at that moment that whatever his growing feelings for Buffy were, none of it mattered until her past was resolved.

Opening the folder, Angel spread the print-outs of the articles across his desk. He'd been doing some thinking about all he'd read, and all he'd been told by Willow, Spike, and Xander. And the more he thought about what he knew, the more he began to realize that there was quite a bit that didn't make sense, that just didn't fit.

Needing the distraction, and wanting to get all his thoughts out, he grabbed a pen and a notebook from one of the desk drawers. With Shadow curled up on his lap, he began jotting down his notes and ideas.

Buffy approached the back door of her house with a light heart and lighter steps. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Angel had kissed her. It seemed so impossible, but oh, so wonderful at the same time. Her heart still felt like it was going to pound out of her chest.

She stopped after climbing up the four steps onto the deck at the back of the house. Her eyes closed and her smile beamed brightly as she breathed in the night air. Opening her eyes again, she started toward the door again, all the while her mind still racing. She hadn't felt like this since...since...her steps stopped again.

Since before Cameron. Before the rape.

But it wasn't that memory that halted her movement, or caused the smile to leave her face. It was the fact that for a few precious hours, she hadn't even thought about it or all that had come afterwards. Those memories, those torments, were always at the forefront of her mind. They never left. But tonight they had. Tonight, while she'd sat with Angel on his kitchen floor, playing with his kitten, she'd forgotten. No, not forgotten, just not thought about it. She'd never forget.

The realization that she had gone for a few hours without thinking of it was almost like a heavy weight lifting off of her. She'd always lived with those memories, thought they'd always be there. But tonight they hadn't been. She'd been able to exist without them. It was freeing, and it gave her hope that maybe someday they would only be there in the back of her mind. Maybe someday she'd be able to live again.

Feeling a resolve that she hadn't felt in years, Buffy continued to the door, stepped quietly into the house. And found herself face to face with her father.

TBC