AN: I have to again say thank you to everyone who left reviews! You guys are awesome, and I greatly appreciate all of your commentes


Part 2
The sound of the door slamming barely registered in Angel's mind as he stalked into his apartment. How could he think about anything other than her. The very last thing he had expected when he went to work today was that he would have a thoroughly mind numbing encounter with Lizzie...Buffy...whatever her name was. He'd left all that behind him in Sunnydale. At least he thought he had. That had been the plan.

When he had transferred out of the Sunnydale PD four years earlier, his sole intention had been to put his time there completely in his past. That short time in spent in Sunnydale and his relationship with Lizzie had almost ruined his life. There was no way he could have stayed there once he'd learned the truth about her, no way he could leave himself open to running into her, no way he could chance anyone finding out about their relationship. So he had put in for a transfer, packed up his stuff, and left. He hadn't even bothered to tell her goodbye. He hadn't wanted to see her again.

The plan had been to never see her again, to never fall victim to her easy lies once more. Well, that plan was shot to hell. He still couldn't fathom the fact that she had just popped back up in his life so suddenly. The moment he had heard her voice he'd known he was screwed. Something about her just reached inside him and tore him to pieces.

But who was the woman he'd seen today? She certainly wasn't the Lizzie he'd known. Angel could still remember the first moment he had seen her stalking across the noisy club towards him. She'd been wearing skin tight leather pants and a slinky tank top then. Her hair had been streaked hot pink, her face covered in pounds of heavy makeup. And she'd come on to him like he was the last man on earth. That young woman shared little with the one he had encountered today.

Buffy, the one he'd seen today, had been almost demur in comparison to the Lizzie from years ago. There'd been very little resemblance at all. Was this persona of hers just another bunch of lies? Angel wondered. What was she playing at this time? There had to be some kind of game. After all, everything was a game to Lizzie. Angel just hoped that he wasn't about to get snared in her tangled web of lies again.

Pacing across his dimly lit apartment, Angel flopped down onto the couch and let his head drop back onto the cushion. The hours he'd spent in Lizzie's – Buffy's - apartment ran through his head like a movie. He tried to find any clue, any slip-up in her veneer, to give him an idea at what she was trying to pull, but nothing stood out.

She had avoided him for the most part while he and Faith had investigated the apartment, but he'd kept an eye on her. Still, Angel had not seen anything questionable. Everything about her, about her situation, had seemed real. Was it possible that she was on the up and up? Right, Angel snorted. Lizzie – Buffy – was a master at playing games. It had taken him over five months to figure out she had been playing him the last time around.

Faith's words rang in Angel's head, that he should let Lizzie explain. Explain what? There wasn't anything to explain. She had played him, lied to him. Period. There weren't any excuses for that.

Unwelcome, the memory of when her lies first began to unravel snuck into his mind. He should have walked away then, Angel told himself. He should have been clued in that she wasn't at all who she had made herself out to be. Stupid was what he'd been. If things had gone differently that day, he would have been totally fucked...


Barely restrained fury coursed through Angel as he climbed the stairs of his apartment building two at a time. Damnit, he didn't need to deal with this shit. Lizzie was going to have some explaining to do.

Ten minutes earlier, he had received a call on his cell phone from his neighbor, a nice elderly woman who was rather nosy and unfortunately tended to complain, who'd told him that the noise coming out of his apartment was just too loud. When he'd asked what noise, the woman had told him that there was music and the sounds of people laughing and talking coming from the inside of his apartment. And she'd asked him to please tell the party to quiet down, obviously thinking that he was part of the whole deal.

Only he wasn't at his apartment, and there wasn't any party. At least there shouldn't have been. The only possible explanation was that Lizzie let herself in using the key he'd told her to feel free to use anytime, and that she'd brought friends. He hadn't exactly ever told her not to bring anyone over, but she should know better than to be too loud.

Arriving on the sixth floor, Angel threw open the door and thudded down the hallway towards his apartment. Yeah, he could hear the noise all right. He was surprised there hadn't been more complaints. At least his neighbor had called him instead of going to the superintendent. He really didn't need to have that jerk on his back.

Angel slid his key into the lock, flicked his wrist, and threw open the door. The sight that greeted him upped his anger ten-fold. And shocked and hurt him on a level he couldn't possibly explain.

Quickly, he slammed the door behind him. No one, not even Lizzie, noticed. How could they with all the noise? Stalking to the stereo to the right of the door, he turned it off and faced the crowd gathered in his living room.

Immediately, their fun and games ceased, each of their eyes snapping to him. Angel didn't miss the nervous guilt that instantly crossed Lizzie's face, but at the moment, he didn't give a damn.

His eyes scanned the group of five seated around his coffee table. Cans of beer lay scattered around the area, along with a bottle of what looked like vodka, but that wasn't what shot his anger nearly through the roof. That was caused by the easily identified marijuana cigarettes and the suspicious baggie of blue pills.

"Everybody out! NOW!" he roared.

In ten seconds flat, each and every one of them, except for Lizzie, had darted out of the room. Angel hadn't spared them a glance. His focus was entirely on Lizzie.


That not so little incident had told him a lot about who exactly Lizzie was. She'd been someone who didn't give a damn about how her actions affected others, and someone who lied easily.

When things between them became more than a passing affair, he'd asked her if she did any drugs. He'd known she was a wild child who lived a little bit on the edge. It wouldn't have surprised him if she'd said yes. But she'd sworn to him that she didn't. He wouldn't have abandoned her if she'd said yes. He would have helped her break whatever bad habits she had, but she'd told him no. Obviously, that had been a lie.

He had also told her he wouldn't have any part in her drinking alcohol. She'd been underage and he couldn't take the chance of her getting caught when he was with her. Not that he could possibly condemn her for drinking underage since he'd indulged in that when he'd been under twenty-one. But seeing as how he was a cop, he couldn't take the chance of her getting caught drinking illegally in his presence. And she had agreed, promised him, that she wouldn't do anything she shouldn't.

Another big fucking lie. That little party of hers that included drugs and alcohol – in his apartment – could have ruined him. If his neighbor hadn't called him, if she'd called the police station and complained or gone to the super, his career would have been gone in a flash. A nineteen year old being found in his apartment with booze and drugs would definitely have gotten him fired, and likely brought up on charges, no matter that he hadn't been there.

Lizzie had apologized profusely, telling him that her friends had brought the contraband. He should have walked away from her then, should have booted her right out of his life. But he hadn't. Eventually, he had forgiven her though his trust in her hadn't been fully restored.

Instinct had told him he was asking for more trouble. But by then his heart had been tied up. How could he have known that night when he'd walked into The Bronze and come face to face with a force of nature that he'd fall in love? Or at least almost love? That had been the very last thing he'd planned on having happen. When Lizzie had all but thrown herself at him, he'd figured they'd have a night of good sex and that would be the end of it. But that one night had turned into two, then three, then a week, and on an on.

Behind that mask of skanky clothes, pink streaked hair, and slut makeup, Lizzie hadn't been at all what he'd been expecting. They'd enjoyed the same movies, liked to take late-night walks, and just spend time alone together. During all their time together, though, she'd been especially silent about her personal life. He should have taken that as a clue.

He should have listened to his instincts.

Only two weeks after the party incident, the bottom had fallen out of their relationship. She'd been caught in one more lie, one he couldn't possibly excuse, and that had been the end. He'd walked away and not bothered to look back.

Well, that wasn't quite true. He'd looked back plenty trying to figure out how he could have been so utterly stupid. And despite his best intentions, he'd never been able to push her fully from his mind, not even four years after the fact.

He would never be able to do that now that she had reappeared again, bringing more mystery with her.

That thought brought Angel up short as he was reminded about what had brought him to...Lizzie's...apartment in the first place, the break-in, the destruction. Angel's brow furrowed as he thought about it. That hadn't been any random break-in or violence. That had been systemic destruction. Someone had obviously been very angry.

What would have happened if Lizzie had been there at the time? He shuddered unconsciously. No matter what his feelings towards Lizzie and their past were, he certainly didn't want to see her harmed. He wasn't that type of guy.

Angel tried to puzzle out the break-in, but all he knew for sure was that the vandalism had been personal, and it had been violent. And there she was living in that building with no outer locks and no deadbolt on her door. She was just asking for trouble. Again. That didn't stop him from picking up the phone and dialing. As it was ringing, he questioned his sanity, but didn't hang up.

"Xander," he spoke when the phone was answered. "I need a favor."


The following day, Buffy stood in the middle of the living room surveying the damage. Everything was a loss. It would all have to be tossed. But that was the farthest thing from her mind. She was still seeing Angel's face as he appeared before her at her door the day before.

The moment she'd realized that it was indeed Angel standing there before her, she'd wanted to throw herself in his arms, but the condemnation in his eyes had stopped her cold. He'd looked as thought he hated her. She couldn't blame him. Everything he felt about her she deserved. She'd managed to irrevocably screw up the one good thing she'd had in her life then. God, she'd been so stupid.

Before Buffy could get too involved in her self-reproach, Faith walked out of the kitchen and winced yet again at the complete mess that was Buffy's apartment.

"Man, B, this sucks," Faith muttered. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered, sighing loudly as she tried to push all thoughts of Angel and her royal screw-up out of her mind. "I guess I'll just get rid of everything and start over."

At least she could afford to buy all new stuff. If her art career wasn't going so well she'd be shit out of luck. But she had the money for new furniture, new clothes...new everything. Even so, the entire situation sucked.

Faith wandered around the room, toeing junk out of the way. "I've got tomorrow off, I can come over and help you get some of this mess cleaned up."

"Thanks," Buffy said gratefully. She'd need all the help she could get. Faith was always there when she needed her, and had been since her move to Los Angeles two and a half years ago. "I was thinking we could stop at Ikea or Pier One after we're done tonight so I could order some stuff and have it delivered in a few days."

"Sounds good. I don't want to have to sit on the floor every time I come over," Faith joked. She glanced down at her watch and groaned. "We'd better get going or we're going to be late."

"Okay, just let me go change real quick." Buffy dashed out of the room and headed toward her bedroom. Hopefully, she'd be able to find something to wear since most of her clothes were torn to pieces.

Just as she was digging a pair of old jeans out a box under her bed, Buffy heard a knock echo through her apartment. She looked down at her half-naked self and winced. "Faith? Could you get that?"

"Sure!" Faith shouted back as she headed toward the door. Opening it, she raised a curious eyebrow. "Xander? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Faith? Oh...I, um...well...," the young man stuttered uncomfortably.

Faith eyed Xander with interest. She glanced down to see his toolbox dangling from one hand, and a package from a hardware store in the other. The sight wasn't unusual. She knew Xander did construction work, after all he had a contract with the city and had done work at her precinct building a few times. That was how he and Angel had become friends. It took her only a moment to put two and two together.

She glanced over her shoulder, glad to see Buffy was still in her room, and leaned closer to Xander. "Angel sent you over, didn't he?" she whispered to him.

"Uh, yeah. He said the woman who lives here was your friend and needed new locks on her door," Xander relayed.

"Right," Faith snorted. She knew exactly why Angel had done it, but she'd keep that to herself for now.

"Faith?" Buffy said as she entered the living room. "Who's here?"

"Oh!" Faith whipped around and faced Buffy. "This is, umm, Xander. He's a friend of mine."

"Okay," Buffy drawled slowly.

"I, umm, asked him to come by and put a deadbolt on your door." Faith turned her head and glared at Xander, daring him to contradict her. "You said you wanted better locks," she quickly pointed out to Buffy.

"You didn't have to do that," Buffy replied. "I could have called somebody, or talked to my landlord."

"I know, but I wanted it to get done as soon as possible and Xander said he had time to do it," Faith explained, gathering her coat and backpack. "We better go, B."

"Shouldn't I stay here while your friend is installing the locks?" Buffy asked warily.

"Oh, no. He'll be fine. He won't take anything." Faith eyed the apartment. "Not that there's anything left to take. And he'll lock up when he's done. Right, Xander?"

"Uhh, yeah, sure," Xander hesitantly reassured the strangely acting Faith.

"See! Great! Come on, B!" Faith grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her toward the door.

Buffy thought about putting up a fight, but she knew better than to argue with Faith. "Wait, won't I need new keys to get back in?"

"Oh, yeah." Xander stooped down and cut open the packages he was holding. He grabbed a key out of each and held them out to Buffy. "I need to keep the duplicates for now to test the locks after I install them, but I'll drop them in your mailbox downstairs after I'm done."

"Great! Thanks, Xand!" Faith waved goodbye and tugged Buffy out into the hallway, not even bothering to let her say another word.


TBC!