Part 8
Angel couldn't stop the feeling that rushed through him as he held Buffy after her abbreviated fall from the counter. His hands spanned her waist, holding her tightly though she was no longer in danger of crashing to the ground. He couldn't seem to let go despite that. His only awareness lay in the fact that he was touching her. Again. As he had touched her four years earlier.

Unbidden, memories of that first night flashed into his mind.

"So this is your place?" she asked the moment the door to Angel's apartment close behind them.

"Yeah," he answered distractedly, not the least bit interested in his apartment when his blood was boiling and his pulse pounding. He'd had a hard time thinking of little else but the woman who'd approached him in the bar the whole drive to his place.

"Nice," she nodded in approval, rotating her head to take in the surroundings.

"Want a tour?" he tossed out with a raised eyebrow.

"Not really," she purred back, her eyes roving over him.

"Good." Angel prowled toward her, backing her up step by step until her back hit the wall.

He didn't know what it was about Lizzie, but he wanted her in a way he couldn't explain. It made him feel like a moth drawn to a flame, get to close and you get toasted, but you can't seem to keep yourself away. And he couldn't keep away. This whole thing wasn't exactly his motis operandi. He didn't really do the whole one night stand thing, but from the moment Lizzie had approached him, he'd been snared in need.

"Mmm," Lizzie moaned, pressing back into the wall as she reached a hand up to touch his chest.

The feel of her hand on his body set off sparks that echoed lower. Angel pushed aside all thoughts of wrong and right. He wanted her, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. With that last try for sanity gone by the wayside, his lust took over.

When his hands grasped at her body, spanning her waist to pull her closer, he could think of nothing but the moment, and the feel of her body as it melded with his.

Deja vu, Angel thought as he snapped back to the present. He'd been in this position before, and considering how things had ended the last time, he'd be wise to get as far away from Lizzie – no, Buffy – as possible. A week ago, he would have done just that. Now, everything was muddled, and as much as he told himself to release her and walk away, he couldn't make himself remove his hands from her waist.

Buffy didn't know what she was feeling as she stood there trapped in Angel's embrace. Her heart was pounding, in part from her almost-fall, and in part because of the sudden situation she found herself in. Beside her, Angel had gone still. He was staring at her with an intensity that she felt deep in her bones. She knew without needing to be told that there was more going on here than just him catching her.

His fingers tightened on her waist and Buffy sucked in a breath. The feel of his hands swept her back in time.

Angel's hands gripped her waist then slid down to her hips before he pulled her lower body forward. She gasped at the contact, immediately noticing his aroused state. A moan slipped past her lips unconsciously. Her hand slid up his chest to lock around his neck, anchoring her body against his.

Her eyes traced the lines of his face, noticing momentarily how utterly gorgeous he was. At the moment, though, it was the feel of him that she couldn't ignore. His strong, muscled form felt huge next to hers. It sent a thrill down her spine. What would he look like without all these clothes on?

The question fell away as his head dipped down to hers. He hovered for a second, his lips mere millimeters from hers, before they touched...

Unaware, at least not fully, of their actions, their lips touched. The contact had barely registered in each of their minds when a ringing sound bleeped loudly nearby. At once, they jerked apart and stared, first at each other, than at points elsewhere. The noise sounded again and Angel's head whipped around to land on his cell phone that he'd tossed on the counter minutes – had it only been minutes? - earlier.

His mind was in a total fog, but Angel managed to remove his hands, somewhat reluctantly, from Buffy's waist. He took a giant step backwards and grabbed his phone at the same time. Space, he told himself, he just needed some space. Then his mind would clear and he could figure out what the hell had just happened. Or not. He couldn't exactly say he wanted to think about what he'd just done.

Instead, he used the convenient distraction of answering his cell phone. He pressed the talk button and stepped further away from Buffy. Yes, more space was definitely needed.

Buffy was still rooted in the spot where Angel had set her after her little gymnastics display off the counter. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. Angel had kissed her? Or had she kissed Angel? Or had they kissed each other? Or was that not even considered a kiss? Or...she cut off the question. She had no clue what they'd just done.

From the looks of it, Angel didn't know either. He didn't look particularly happy about whatever had happened either, judging from the scowl on his face and the half-room's distance he'd put between them. Staring at Angel secretly out of the corner of her eye while trying to get a grip on what had just occurred between them, Buffy felt as if the room was closing in on her. She needed to get out of here. Grabbing the ice cream carton and her spoon, she hurried out of the kitchen, forgetting completely that she was supposed to have been sharing the frozen treat with Angel.

The phone call lasted less than ten minutes. Angel wasn't sure he'd taken much in that was said to him, but he thought he'd gotten the gist of it. He just hadn't been able to concentrate, nor take his eyes off the doorway Buffy had fled through minutes earlier. As he hung up the phone and shoved it into his pocket, he wondered what he was supposed to do now.

Idiot, he called himself. Stupid, flaming idiot. He should never have let himself get in this position. This way led trouble. Buffy led to trouble. No, Lizzie was the one who'd nearly brought the world down upon his head. But Buffy and Lizzie were the same person. Weren't they? Sort of. Then again, hadn't he just been thinking recently that Buffy was nothing like the Lizzie he'd known? Well, yes. Still...

It shouldn't have happened. Absolutely should not have happened. He knew better. But at the time, he just couldn't seem to have helped himself. All he had been able to think about was her, and how she felt underneath his hands. That shouldn't have mattered, he vehemently shouted inside his head. He could not, absolutely not, even consider Buffy in ways that involved bodily contact.

There, decision made. He wouldn't think about kissing Buffy. Holding Buffy. Touching Buffy. Nope, won't think about it. Angel groaned. Telling himself not to think about something was like inviting the thoughts into his head. Okay, so he'd think about something else. The phone call. Right. He would deal with that. Which, unfortunately, meant he had to go talk to Buffy, the very person he was trying to keep out of his head. Angel groaned again.

Buffy was sitting on the window seat up in her studio when she heard Angel's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She wished she could find somewhere to hide. Given Angel's actions after their...whatever it was...she could pretty much guess what he was going to say to her. A mistake. Never should have happened. Stress. Blah, blah, blah. Any combination or variation thereof meant the same thing to her. He hadn't meant it and it wouldn't happen again. Essentially.

Despite the fact that logic decreed that was for the best, Buffy wished things were different. Before she could think too much more about that, Angel reached the top stair.

"That was Faith on the phone," Angel jumped right to the least complicated subject.

"Did she find out something?" Buffy latched right on to the topic, somewhat grateful for the reprieve.

"Not really. The tech guys have finished the initial study of the evidence from the other night. No obvious clues that point to a suspect other than a few unknown dark hairs. Those could come from anybody, though," he relayed what Faith had told him, beating back frustration that they were still no closer to finding out who wanted to hurt Buffy. "They're going to compare them to some known samples of me and Faith."

"Dawn. My sister, Dawn, has dark hair," she told him. "It could be hers."

"I'll pass that on." Angel made a mental note to tell the tech team about the sister. "Faith is on her way over here."

"Why?"

"I need to get some stuff from my apartment, and stop in at the station so Faith is gonna take over for a while." Plus, he needed a break. Some time to think, consider, convince himself he didn't want to do anything stupid.

"Oh, okay." She wasn't disappointed. Really, she wasn't. Okay, that was a lie. She was, but it was obvious Angel wanted to leave. "You, um, don't have to come back tonight."

Angel frowned at her. Did she not want him to come back? "I'll be here. I'm not leaving you alone all night, not while this psycho is still on the loose."

"I'll be fine," she tried to assure him, giving him the out he seemed to want.

"No," Angel said just as a knock came at the door downstairs. Must be Faith. "I'll be back in probably two hours." And before she could say anything else, he trotted back down the stairs.


Faith eyed the closed door with a scowl on her face. Angel had barely said two words to her before leaving. He'd just grabbed his duffel bag, mumbled a good-bye and then bolted. Add into that the fact that Buffy appeared to be MIA and it all added up to weird. Something was definitely not right. And if she had to guess, Faith would say that the tension between her best friend and her partner was starting to get to them.

Okay, so she was hoping it was getting to them. They were both wound way too tight for her likings. What they needed was to get laid, preferably with each other. Faith knew both of them, though, and neither was likely to give an inch. Though as she stood in the dead silence of the living room, she wondered if perhaps they hadn't already cracked.

Faith started towards Buffy's bedroom, wondering – okay, hoping – she'd find Buffy sprawled out naked on the bed. Not that she wanted to see Buffy naked, but if she were minus clothes, it would mean her two friends had screwed like bunnies and then maybe all this damn tension between them would go away.

The bedroom was empty, and the bed neatly made, which was unfortunate in Faith's mind. She checked Dawn's room, where she knew Angel was staying while he was playing bodyguard, just to be sure. That room was also empty and the bed showed no signs of anyone getting some nookie. Damn, she cursed.

So where was Buffy? Faith strolled back to the living at the same time Buffy was walking down the stairs from the loft. Hmm, Faith hummed to herself. The studio had possibilities. Lots of room up there for, uh, moving around. And the paints offered some rather interesting options. She almost laughed out loud at the idea of Angel naked covered in paint. That was definitely not an image she needed in her head of her partner.

Buffy's appearance, though, told Faith that nothing scandalous had happened. With her clothes all properly adorned and not a hair out of place, Buffy showed no signs of having gotten horizontal – or vertical – with Angel. Looked like she would have to deal with the serious tension between Buffy and Angel for a while longer. Damn, she cursed again.

"Doing some work?" Faith asked, nodding up to Buffy's studio.

"No. Just eating some ice cream while watching the cars drive by from the window," Buffy answered, her tone melancholy, yet another signal to Faith that something had to have happened.

"Uh huh." And pigs fly, and nothing at all happened between Buffy and Angel. Right. "So-."

The phone rang, cutting off whatever Faith had been about to say. Buffy transferred the spoon in her right hand to her left and picked up the extension on the end table in the living room. Even though she was only a few feet away, Faith barely heard the conversation as she tried to figure out how to pry information out of Buffy. She was dying to know what had happened just before she'd arrived at Buffy's apartment. Angel wasn't likely to tell her so she'd have to work on Buffy.

"Huh?" Faith grunted when she realized Buffy had hung up the phone and was now talking to her.

"I said that was the gallery," Buffy repeated, giving Faith an odd look. "They need me to come over tomorrow and check out the final setup since the opening is in two days. Which I'd completely forgotten about with everything that's going on."

"You could ask them to postpone," Faith posed, wandering around the couch and then plopping down on it.

"No," Buffy shook her head. "Everything is screwed up enough. I've been looking forward to the exhibition, I don't want to change it."

"'kay, whatever floats your dinghy."

While Buffy went into the kitchen to get rid of the ice cream carton and spoon, Faith lounged on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. She still hadn't figured out how to weasel info from Buffy. Beating around the bush would waste time, so the moment Buffy returned and dropped down into the chair next to the couch, Faith opted for the direct route.

"So, what's up with you and Angel?"

"Nothing!" Buffy answered quickly. Too quickly.

"Yeah, right," Faith snorted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," defended Buffy, avoiding looking at Faith.

"Come on, B. I'm not stupid. I've known both you and Angel too long. Something's going on," Faith eyed Buffy intensely, waiting for her to deny it again.

With an exasperated sigh, Buffy caved and told. "We, um, sort of...kissed."

"Really?" Faith grinned wickedly. "Spill it, girlfriend, and don't leave any details out."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "It wasn't like...whatever you're thinking." She went on to tell Faith about her near fall off the counter and then the ensuing...whatever...with Angel that had ended with them in a semi-kiss. When she was done, she noticed the disappointed look on Faith's face.

"That's it? That's what has got both of you acting all trippy?" Faith grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She'd been hoping for something much more juicy.

"That's all?" Buffy repeated. "We kissed, Faith."

"Yeah, barely." Dropping her feet to the floor, Faith leaned forward and cocked her head. "Was it a bad sort-of kiss?"

"No! It has nothing to do with that!" Buffy exclaimed, exasperated. "It's about Angel. And me. Me and Angel."

"Umm, right. That made a lot of sense."

"God, Faith! Angel doesn't even like me. You saw the way he acted that first night," she pointed out, referring to Angel's instant hostility the night he and Faith had responded to her call about the break-in.

"But that was before you guys had talked. You told me you'd explained about everything," Faith interjected. "He's been different since then, hasn't he?"

"Well, sort of, but-."

"No buts," Faith ordered. "Don't interpret what isn't there. Maybe-." A knock on the door interrupted. Faith glanced down at her watch. "Damn, didn't realize what time it was."

"Huh? Are you expecting someone?" Buffy asked, her eyes darting to the door. She couldn't stop the jump of fear at the knock. What if it was the person after her?

The knock sounded again. "That's our entertainment for the night," explained Faith as she jumped off the couch and started towards the door. Before she opened it, she glanced back at Buffy. "We're not done with this conversation about you and Angie."

Opening the door, Faith grinned. "Hey guys, ready to party?" She stepped back and allowed her boyfriend Spike along with several other of her and Buffy's mutual friends to enter.

As her friends crowded into the room, Buffy fought the urge to stomp her feet and order them out. She really didn't feel like being social tonight. What she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and stare at the ceiling for a few hours. Since her friends were already here, though, she'd be a good little hostess. Didn't mean she had to enjoy and have fun at the same time.


The sun had already set by the time Angel found himself sitting on a bench near the beach in Venice. He'd made a quick stop at the station to brief himself on any new developments in Buffy's case and then hopped over to his apartment to grab some more clothes and necessities. After that, he considered returning to Buffy's apartment, but instead, he headed west. Somehow, he ended up here in Venice, blindly staring at the Santa Monica Bay.

Why he'd come here, Angel didn't know. It wasn't like the place was quiet and peaceful. He had just needed to be somewhere on his own. Unfortunately, that left him alone with his thoughts. He hadn't been able to get the kiss with Buffy out of his head since it happened. It just kept replaying constantly.

Ridiculous, that's what the whole thing was. Four years ago, he'd thought he'd left everything to do with Buffy, or Lizzie as she called herself then, behind. It wasn't something he ever wanted to revisit. When he'd fled from Sunnydale, his job had been put at risk, his ego had been battered, and his heart...well, he couldn't quite say his heart had been broken, but it had been bruised. He hadn't been emotionally connected enough to her to be in love, but he had cared a great deal about her. Because of that, he'd been blind to who she really was.

He'd gotten out of Sunnydale with his skin barely intact. Seeing Lizzie – Buffy – again was something he would have paid money to not have happened. All he'd wanted was to completely leave that part of his life behind. He didn't need the grief, lies, and betrayal she brought into his life. He just wanted to live his life, do his job, and leave behind crap like what she'd done to him. And he'd thought he'd had that.

Now his life seemed to be turned upside down. Again. Because of Buffy. Again.

If he were honest, he knew that Buffy hadn't done anything wrong this time. At least as far as he knew. Since she'd reappeared in his life, everything he'd ever known and thought about her had been turned inside out.

Angel told himself that none of it mattered, that he had a job to do, and that was it. He couldn't stop thinking about all he now knew about Buffy, though. He kept seeing her as a young girl, the victim of a bad divorce, left alone by the death of her mother and abandoned by her father. The hurt he felt for young Buffy gripped tightly at his heart. Everyone had failed her and she'd reacted in the only way she knew how, by disassociating and being someone else, someone who didn't have her lonely life. Someone named Lizzie.

God, he wished he had known all this four years ago. Maybe he would have been able to help her. He certainly wouldn't have become involved with her, given her age, but he would have done whatever he could to help her. He'd have been a friend she desperately needed. But he hadn't know then, and now he did.

So what did that mean, exactly?

Angel pondered that question as he sat on the bench, ignorant of the noisy people strolling past him. He knew who Buffy was now. He knew who Lizzie had been. He knew why things had happened the way they did. He knew everything that mattered. So what the hell did that mean to him?

"Nothing," he growled in a low voice.

It meant nothing. He'd been down this road with Buffy before, and he had no intention of repeating it. Knowing what he now knew about her didn't mean anything other than the fact that he felt he actually knew Buffy now. Otherwise, it all meant nothing.

There would be no more personal moments. No more almost kisses. No more anything of the sort. He was a cop. Buffy was in danger. And it was his job to keep her safe. The end. Period. That's all she wrote.

Angel repeated that to himself over and over as he stood and made his way back to his car. He needed to get to Buffy's place. To do his job, and only his job.


As Angel approached Buffy's apartment, he heard music blaring loudly. Odd, he thought, reaching back to make sure his gun was where it should be. At the door, he could also hear voices talking, laughing. It eased his worry, and instead gave him and instant case of deja vu. He was unable to fight off the memory of the last time he'd neared an apartment Buffy was inside of and he'd been able to hear music and people inside. That time, he'd opened the door to find Lizzie and some of her punk friends getting drunk and high. Would he find the same this time? The moment the thought came to him, he kicked it aside. He believed Buffy when she said she was through with that kind of thing. She was probably just hanging out with Faith.

Knocking on the door, Angel waited. And waited. No one answered. Not really a surprise considering all the noise coming from inside the apartment. He knocked a little louder, but still wasn't let in. He contemplated pulling out his cell phone and calling, but instead reached for the spare key Buffy had given him earlier that day. What was the use of having a key if he didn't use it?

The sooner he got inside, the sooner he could talk to Faith, give Buffy an update about the case and pick her brain about anything she might know to help them find the creep after her. The sooner he did all that, the sooner the case would be over. The sooner the case was over, the sooner he'd be away from Buffy. And the sooner he was away from Buffy, the sooner he could get back to the life he'd built here in Los Angeles. That's what he told himself as he stuck the key in the lock.

The second Angel opened door, he was assaulted by insanely loud rock music. He winced and wondered how in the world people could listen to music that damn loud. The loud tunes didn't hold his attention for long, though. As soon as he stepped inside, his eyes were drawn to the center of the living room.

Seated around the coffee table were a handful of people, some he knew, one or two he didn't. On the table were some playing cards and piles of peanuts along with the assorted drinks and bowls of chips. They were playing poker? And yet, it wasn't the poker game that held his attention either. Because as soon as he saw her, his eyes were glued to Buffy.

She was seated at the corner of the table, only part of her face visible to him. She dropped a few peanuts into the center of the table, then leaned closer to Faith. His partner said something and Buffy tossed back her head and laughed. The lines of strain on her face he'd seen too much of the last few days disappeared, her hair cascaded down her back. She kept laughing heartily, nearly dropping the cards in her hand.

God, she was beautiful.

Angel felt his insides tremble, felt his heart clutch.

He was in deep shit. Deep, deep shit.


TBC!