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Chapter 17

There was no easy way to respond to the statement Buffy made, that the rape had led to her family members' deaths, Angel realized. All through his research on the events of four years ago, there was only one conclusion he'd been able to come to. The police had missed some key information, clues that changed everything. So either they were really incompetent, or they'd done it on purpose. He was betting on the latter considering the fact that Cameron Walker's father was police chief, and the police chief's best friend was Mayor Richard Wilkins, a man he'd been told was rotten to the core.

That line of thinking took Angel down another road. Someone had killed three of the Giles family. Who else had a motive other than Cameron Walker's family, and his family's friends, to take revenge on Buffy. No one. By the things Willow had told him, the Walkers, and their entourage, had been quite vicious to Buffy after the rape. Would they have possibly gone so far as to commit murder to get back at her? Considering that the blame got laid on Buffy's head, yes. It was a perfect way to ruin her.

If his suppositions were correct, then, Cameron's father, and others, had arranged the murder of Buffy's family. But that didn't mean any of it was her fault, and that was what he, along with Spike, Willow, and Xander, had to get her to understand. How he was going to do that, Angel didn't have a clue.

When no on dared to refute her claim, Buffy slumped back in the chair. She'd killed her family just as if she'd used the knife on them. No one had to tell her that. The facts were staring her right in the face. "This is all my fault," she said brokenly.

Angel's head jerked up and he stared at her hard as he forcefully disagreed with her. "No, Buffy. This was anything but your fault."

"But if I-."

"No," Angel cut her off abruptly. "It was not your fault," he repeated.

Willow, still kneeling in front of the chair, took one of Buffy's hands to draw her attention. "What did you do wrong to make what happened your fault?" she asked simply.

The question gave Buffy pause. What had she done wrong? "I...I accused Cameron of...of raping me." That was, after all, what had started everything.

"Accused?" Willow repeated, disheartened by the defeat she heard in Buffy's voice. "He raped you, Buffy. Cameron Walker raped you. He's the one to blame for all this. Him, his father, and all his cronies."

"But-." Again, Buffy was interrupted.

"There's no buts about it," Willow stated emphatically. She looked directly at Buffy. "Did Cameron rape you?" Buffy nodded her head yes, unable to say it aloud. "Did you go to the police and tell them the truth about what happened?" Willow then asked.

"You know I did," she answered softly.

"Then you did nothing wrong!" Willow squeezed Buffy's hand, forced her to raise her eyes. "You were the victim, Buffy. And the police were supposed to help you. You can't be blamed for their corruption and what they did afterwards."

A few tears slipped out of Buffy's eyes, her lower lip quivered as she fought the urge to break down and cry. In her heart, she knew they were right. All she'd done was tell the truth about what had happened in the locker room the day of her seventeenth birthday. But still...

"If I hadn't said anything, none of this would have happened," she said, voicing the one thought in her mind.

Spike, who'd stood and walked over to her chair, ran a gentle hand down her hair. "None of us could have predicted what happened, Buffy," he told her, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "The police are supposed to help people and punish the bloody bastards who do things like what Cameron did to you. You couldn't have known what would happen."

"No, you couldn't have known what would happen," Angel agreed, speaking up after having allowed Buffy's friends to add their support. "But we're not going to let them get away with what they did," he finished defiantly.

"What-what do you mean?" Buffy asked.

For a brief moment, Angel hesitated. What was he getting himself involved in, he wondered? This wasn't one of the crime novels he loved to read. This was real life. And the people he was getting ready to go up against were not good people. They'd covered up a rape, and likely had paid someone – since doing it themselves would be above them – to murder three people. He had to be insane to get involved.

Looking up into Buffy's sad eyes, Angel knew he was insane. He would do anything he could to help her. In the short time he had been in Sunnydale, and the even shorter time that he had known Buffy personally, she had worked her way under his skin without even knowing it. And he wasn't ready to admit it yet, but she had also worked her way into his heart.

"I've got a friend who works for FBI here in California. I think I can get him to take a look at case...everything from the rape to the murders," he broke out of his thoughts and told Buffy. The expected alarm on her face didn't come unexpected. "Don't worry," he assured her. "He's a good guy. I trust him, and I don't have any intention of telling him that you are really alive until I know he believes you are innocent."

Seeing her reluctance, Spike squeezed her shoulder. "It's the right thing to do, Buffy."

"I agree," Xander chimed in as he stood and walked over to Buffy. He gave Willow a look and a slight jerk of his head, silently asking her to move. She complied and Xander looked at both Angel and Spike, also asking them to give him some space. They obeyed.

Xander took Angel's seat on the stool and took a deep breath. "First off, Buff, I want to apologize to you," he began. "I wasn't a good friend to you. I should have stuck by you after the rape, and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Xander," Buffy said with a slight sniffle as she took his hand. "I know things were hard for you. I always understood that."

"It doesn't matter. I should have stuck by you," he repeated firmly. "But I'll be there this time. This all has to stop, Buff. They need to pay for what they've done to you, and who knows what they could do to some other innocent victim."

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw her arms around Xander and hug him. Yes, it had hurt years ago when he'd backed away after the rape. But she hadn't lied when she said she'd understood. His future had been on the line. And in the end, it hadn't mattered. He had lost a chance at a college scholarship by getting kicked off the swim team because of his association with her. Another thing the rape had ruined.

But were they right? Should Angel talk to his friend? Part of her wanted to scream out 'no!' and run back to her attic rooms and hide. That part of her didn't want to deal with any of it. And what would happen if something went wrong? What if she was arrested and put in jail like her father believed she would? What if Cameron's father found out she was alive and did something else to her? Or worse, to her father, her friends? Or Angel. She couldn't bear anything more happening to them because of her.

There was another part of her, though, that wanted them to pay for all they had done to her. Cameron had gotten away with violating her, and later tormenting her with his friends. And if Angel was right, his father and his father's friends, including Mayor Wilkins, had murdered her family. Could she let them get away with that?

Buffy didn't know what to do. Willow, Spike and Xander thought she should fight back. Angel thought she should fight back. She trusted them, and Angel, didn't she?

Yes, she did.

"Okay, what do we do?"

The sun was just beginning to crest on the horizon when Buffy finally made it back upstairs to Angel's guest room. She eyed the bed, smiling slightly at the sight of Shadow, the kitten, curled up in a ball on one of the pillows, but wondering if she would be able to sleep if she lay down. She didn't think she would. Her mind was too busy sorting through everything that had happened earlier, with her father, with her friends, and with Angel.

In less than twenty-four hours, she had been kissed by Angel – something she still had trouble grasping. She'd argued with her father and found out the horrible truth about why he kept her virtually locked inside the house that had once been her home. That alone would have been enough to overwhelm a person. But then she'd returned to Angel's house, and he'd taken her in, given her a bed to sleep on. To top it all off, she had interrupted a conversation between Angel and her friends where they had thrust their support at her and squelched all the doubts she had about the night her family had been killed. Almost.

Buffy eased herself down on the edge of the bed and reached out to pet the kitten as she thought about it all. In the four years that had passed since the murders, she had never even had the slightest inclination that her father believed she had killed them. Her hand trembled on the kitten at the thought. It hurt to know that her father could think she had killed three people who meant everything to her. But she supposed she couldn't really blame him for accepting her guilt under the circumstances. She had her own doubts about that night.

If only there wasn't a big blank spot in her memory about what had happened after they'd all sat down to watch the movie. It scared her that she didn't remember. As long as there was an empty whole in her memory, she would wonder about what really happened, and if she'd had any part in it. But she believed what Angel had explained to her about the things he'd learned from reading the articles. His reasoning made sense about why she was innocent. She was just having a hard time completely convincing herself that she wasn't a murderer, or at least some sort of unknowing accomplice.

"Buffy?"

Startled, Buffy nearly leapt off the bed. Pressing a hand to her now pounding heart, she turned and saw Angel standing in the doorway to the room.

"Sorry. I didn't meant to scare you," he apologized and took another step into the room.

"That's okay," she replied and gave him a small smile.

"I, umm...here's some clothes you can sleep in." Angel thrust a bundle at her and then shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't know why he was suddenly nervous, but he was.

Buffy took the clothes, touched that he would think of such a mundane thing. Unfolding them, Buffy looked at the items. He'd brought her a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts with a drawstring. She looked down at her own clothes, grateful that she wouldn't have to sleep in them.

"There's, uh, a bathroom down at the end of the hall where you can change," he told her and nodded in the direction.

"Thanks." She grasped the clothes in her hands against her chest and stood. "I'll be right back."

Angel watched as she shuffled out of the room. It was just dawning on him that Buffy was staying at his house. Buffy, who he'd kissed just hours earlier. Buffy, who he wouldn't mind kissing again. He quickly shoved that idea out of his head. Thinking about kissing Buffy was completely inappropriate given the situation. Knowing that didn't stop him from wanting to do it.

The soft footsteps warned Angel that Buffy was on her way back to the room. Needing to be doing something, he wandered over to the window and looked out at the lightening sky. It would be morning soon, and he hadn't even had an hour's worth of sleep. He silently thanked his old job for getting him used to working on little sleep.

He turned when he heard Buffy moving about in the room. She'd set her clothes down on top of the dresser and was now wearing his clothes. The sight made his heart thump wildly in his chest. His t-shirt was huge on her, the neck hanging almost off one shoulder. It likely would have hung to her knees, but she had tied it in a knot on her left hip. The shorts, though, did drape to her knees. If they hadn't had a drawstring, he had no doubt the wouldn't have stayed up. For some reason, the look was incredibly sexy. And again he told himself thoughts like that were completely inappropriate.

"I have to go in to work for a little while today, but I shouldn't be gone too long," he finally said in order to distract himself from lascivious thoughts of Buffy in his clothes.

"Okay," she mumbled, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I, um...thanks for letting me stay here. I'll try not to be a pain."

"Buffy." Angel walked over and untwined her hands which had been twisting together in front of her. He held them lightly while he spoke. "It's not a problem at all. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want."

She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled up at him. "Thanks."

"And you're free to have anything in the kitchen or watch the TV or whatever. I've got a few movies you can watch, or there are a bunch of books if you like to read. Just don't go...," he paused, unsure of how to say the next thing without upsetting her or making her angry.

Reading his mind, Buffy gave a slight nod of her head. "Don't go outside, right?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay. I understand," she replied. She wouldn't admit it, but she really didn't want to go outside. Not here in Sunnydale where everyone thought she was crazy, and a murderer. And dead.

"Well, I um...I guess I'll let you get to sleep," Angel stated as he released Buffy's hands and started toward the door.

The loss of contact slapped at Buffy the moment he let go of her. His touch felt so natural. She hadn't wanted him to let go. But more, she didn't want to be alone right now. "Angel?" He stopped, glanced at her. She said nothing for several seconds, unsure of what she wanted to ask, but finally went for it. "Would you...would you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

The softly spoken plea trickled down spine and set his nerves on edge, but he couldn't deny her. "Sure." He slipped off his shoes and approached the bed, wondering how they were going to work this.

Seeing no other choice, since there weren't yet any chairs in the room, he sat down on the bed with his back leaning against the oak headboard. Not the most comfortable position, but it would do. Buffy hesitated for a moment. Did she really want to get into a bed with a man she hardly knew? She nibbled on her lower lip. This was Angel, though. He was kind to her. He didn't think she was crazy or a killer. She didn't think he would do anything to hurt her, so she too climbed onto the bed.

"Thanks," she responded gratefully, trying not to think about the fact that she was in a bed with Angel. It was...strange. But not all that uncomfortable. For the most part.

Angel was silent as she lay down on her side, pulling the blankets up around her chest. The moment she'd settled herself in, a wave of exhaustion hit Buffy. It looked as though she would be able to sleep even though she'd thought she wouldn't. Blinking her eyes to fight off sleep, she tilted her head and looked up at the man who'd offered her more than just a place to stay.

"Angel?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah?" He shifted to look down at her blonde head nestled on the pillow covered in a soft green pillowcase.

"Why are you doing this?" she questioned, needing to know the answer.

He frowned, uncertain of her meaning. "Doing what?"

"Helping me," she clarified, then added, "Being nice to me."

It was a simple question, Angel thought. Too bad he didn't have a simple response. He wasn't sure he even had a complete answer. Ever since the first time he'd seen her walking on the beach at midnight he'd been drawn to her. There was no way to explain why, when he didn't quite know himself. Even so, he needed to give her some kind of answer.

"Because you're a good person, Buffy, and I want to help you." Angel winced. Lame answer, but it was the best he could come up with without sounding like an idiot.

He wasn't sure if the answer was what she wanted to hear because she said nothing. So he watched as her eyes drifted closed. A minute passed in silence and he thought she'd fallen asleep, but then he heard her say his name again in a sleepy whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow and sleepiness.

He smiled and settled back against the headboard. "You're welcome."

Angel stayed awake as the sun continued to rise in the sky. It would have been useless to try to get any sleep now, not when he had to get up to go to work in another hour or so. Plus, if he had fallen asleep, he didn't have his alarm clock to wake him up. So instead, he sat on the bed next to Buffy, watching the sun inch across the room toward the bed.

He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the early morning sun. Her golden hair was spread out across the pillow, shining brightly under the sunlight. Her left hand was curled up near her head, shifting occasionally as she slept. The room was quiet except for the light sound of her breathing. She didn't snore. Angel tucked that little fact inside his head.

Only a half hour or so had passed when a slight whimper from Buffy caught his attention. Gazing down at her, his muscles tensed. Her previously serene face was now marred with a furrowed brow and quivering lower lip. She whimpered again and her body twitched. The hand on the pillow clenched, grasping at the green pillowcase.

Should he wake her up? Or should he let the dream – nightmare? – run its course? He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to wake her up unless he had to, so he shifted closer to her and as gently as possible pried her clenched hand off the pillowcase. The motion never woke her.

Angel held her hand against his chest, lightly trailing his thumb across her knuckles. The contact seemed to work because within minutes the tension left her body. Her breathing returned to normal and her fingers loosened. He uncurled them further and laid her palm flat against his chest, all the while never stopping the soothing caress of his thumb on the back of her hand.

For the rest of the time he was there, she slept peacefully.

TBC