Part 9
Faith fought to keep a grin off her face as she spotted Angel hovering in the small foyer of Buffy's apartment. He was just standing there like a big, dumb dog who was staring covetously at a big, juicy bone – or in this case, a sexy young woman, namely, Buffy. This was just too, too good. She leaned over and elbowed Spike lightly in the ribs.

"Check out the big guy over there," she whispered in his ear.

Glancing to his right, Spike saw what Faith was referring and looked back at her with one scarred eyebrow raised. "Looks as if he's about to start droolin' any minute."

The laugh slipped out before Faith could stop it and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Buffy heard the giggle even over the loud music and halted the movement of her hand as she went to pick up the card that had been dealt to her. She looked at Faith, wondering what was so funny. As she did so, she glimpsed Angel standing just outside the living room.

"Oh, Angel," she squeaked and scurried up to turn the music down. "Umm, Angel. Hi. I didn't hear you come in."

Buffy's greeting didn't penetrate Angel's mind right away. He was still lost in the vision she'd created, sitting there with her friends, laughing and having a good time. It was the first time ever that he'd seen her so carefree and happy, and without any pretense hovering over her. The sight struck a chord in him that he didn't care to examine right now. Or ever.

When Angel didn't reply, Buffy grew worried. "Angel? Is something wrong? Did something happen?" A muffled laugh came from the direction of the table, and Buffy saw Faith ducking her head down. What was that about?

Snapping his mind out of the daze it'd slipped into, Angel stepped forward. "No, everything's fine. I was just thinking." Faith laughed again and this time Angel looked down at her and wondered what the hell was so funny.

Spike patted his girlfriend's shoulder and said, "I just told her a dirty joke."

The lame excuse caused Faith to laugh harder. Spike hadn't said a word to her, in joke form or otherwise. She just thought it was too damn funny the way Buffy and Angel were circling around each other like a pair of horny rabbits. Man, she'd given anything to be a fly on the wall when they finally let go of their reservations and just went at it.

"Right." Angel scowled at his partner, not believing the excuse for a second. He'd let it go for now. "Having a party?"

"Not really," Buffy shrugged. "We all hang out every few weeks. There weren't any good movies on TV so we decided to play poker." She didn't know why she was nervous. There wasn't any reason to be. This was her apartment, her friends, her life. Why in the world should be nervous about Angel being here and seeing her like this? She wasn't doing a thing wrong.

For the first time she realized that Angel had changed from what he'd been wearing earlier. Instead of the khaki pants and blue button down shirt he'd had on when he left, he now had on a pair of pressed black slacks and a dark green sweater. And boy did both of those fit him ever so nicely. Each and every one of the muscles in his arms and chest seemed to be perfectly outlined by the sweater. She gulped and looked away.

Little did Buffy know, but Angel was having similar thoughts. Now that Buffy was standing, Angel took in the short, red cotton shorts and loose fitting white thank top she had on. Her feet were bare and Angel couldn't stop his eyes from trailing up her shapely legs to the cuffs of her shorts, over her abdomen where they abruptly stopped at the soft mounds of her breasts. He bit back a groan. She clearly wasn't wearing a bra underneath that tank top.

"Oh, I guess I should introduce everyone," he heard Buffy say. Angel tore his eyes off Buffy's chest and forced himself to look at the table everyone was seated around. His gazed landed on Faith first, who was staring at him, clearly amused at something.

"Guys, this is Angel Callahan. He's Faith's partner," she introduced him to the table, then raised her eyes to Angel. "So you know Faith, obviously, and Spike, Wes, and Fred you met last night." Buffy gestured to the one's Angel knew.

"Hi, good to see you again," he greeted them before focusing on the two other people, one a dark-skinned man with a bald head, and the other a pretty brunette who exuded 'princess' out of every pore. Odd group of people, he though to himself.

"And these two," Buffy pointed to the two in question, "Are Gunn and Cordelia. Gunn is sort of the do-it-all at Hyperion. He fixes things and also helps out if there are ever problems like fights or whatever. Cordy handles behind the scenes stuff, like raising funds and getting donations of supplies."

"Nice to meet you," Angel nodded, and wondered if the two had any deeper connection to Hyperion, as in if they'd been clients at one time. Everyone else seemed to. It wasn't his business, though. They seemed like good people. Still, it wouldn't hurt to run a check on them, he didn't want to count out any possibilities of who might be after Buffy.

"Come on and join us, Angie," Faith patted the floor next to her. "There's plenty of room."

"Angie?" Cordelia repeated in confusion. "I thought his name was Angel. What kind of name is Angel anyway?"

Buffy laughed while shaking her head at her friend. "Cordelia is a little short on tact," she said to Angel.

"Angie's my personal nickname for him," explained Faith while grinning at Angel. She just loved pushing all his buttons, and by the way he was scowling at her, it was working. "His real name is Liam but he gets all grumpy if you call him that."

"So why Angel?" Fred chimed in from her spot next to Wes.

"Family nickname," Angel answered, hating the topic of discussion. He'd heard all the jokes over the years about his name. It got old after a while.

"So you gonna join us, mate?" Spike asked.

Angel frowned at Faith's bleached blonde boyfriend. He still didn't trust the guy. And he didn't particularly want to play poker. Or sit near Buffy and play poker. He didn't want to be rude, though, and trudge off to his room like a schmuck. His decision to keep things all business with Buffy was flying right out the window.

"Sure," he finally gave in. "If no one else minds. I don't want to barge in."

"All are welcome," Gunn decreed.

Damn, Angel thought. His valiant hope that someone wouldn't want him there went by the wayside. He'd just have to suck it up and deal with it. At least he'd be able to focus on the poker game instead of Buffy. Toeing off his shoes, he rounded the couch and sat down next to Faith. Too late he realized the only other open spot around the table was right next to him. His desire to keep his mind on the game fell flat as Buffy plopped down to his left, and he became aware of every little thing about her from the light smell of her perfume to the slight brush of her thigh against his. This was going to be a long, long night.


Two hours later, the apartment was finally quiet and Buffy's friends had left. Angel was surprised to admit to himself that he'd had a lot of fun playing poker with everyone. Well, he'd had fun when he managed to ignore the fact that Buffy was sitting beside him. The poker game hadn't been a serious one, as exemplified by the peanuts they used for money, but the game didn't seem to have been the point of it. It was more about hanging out and having fun with friends.

They weren't his friends, of course, except for Faith, and he supposed Buffy, but Angel hadn't felt like an outsider. Wesley was a nice guy, even if at times he was a little uptight. His girlfriend Fred was a sweetheart. He never would have guessed that at one time she'd had a drug problem, but his years on the force had showed him that anyone could get sucked down that path under certain circumstances.

Then there was Spike. Angel would be lying if he didn't say that he'd hoped the guy acted like a jerk so Angel would be proven right. The guy had been okay for the most part. He was at times annoying and antagonistic, making smart-ass comments, but they seemed to be just part of his character. He treated Faith right, and for now, that was all that mattered to Angel.

As for the other two, they were a mixed-matched pair added to the group. Gunn was a bit rough and tumble, but he had a good sense of humor and got along with everyone. Cordelia was a puzzle to Angel. Sometimes she exuded an air of spoiled brat, and at other times, it was almost like she was grateful to have her group of friends.

Overall, they were a fun bunch and seemed very close. It had felt a bit strange for Angel to be there and be a part of it. He didn't have very many close friends. Never had. Growing up in a rich family as he had and going to private schools hadn't given him many opportunities for that kind of kinship. Not that he hadn't had a good childhood, he just hadn't gotten close to many people outside his family. After seeing Buffy's friends interacting tonight, it made him feel like he'd missed out on something.

A noise across the room drew Angel's attention and he saw Buffy bending down to gather the cups and bowls. He ignored, or at least tried to, the smooth curve of her backside. It wasn't easy with the way she was bent over. He couldn't think like that, though. Only a few hours earlier he had promised himself to be Buffy's bodyguard and only that. He was going to stick to it.

"Do you need some help?" he offered his services.

Buffy jumped, startled by his voice. She'd almost forgotten he was in the room. Almost. Okay, so she'd been too lost in her thoughts about him to think about how he was standing next to the window on the other side of the room. Now that everyone else was gone, the room seemed ten times smaller than it had been. Then there was the fact that with only Angel remaining, she had nothing to distract herself from thinking about him.

Sitting there tonight next to Angel and playing poker with him had been utterly strange. It was as if the past – their past – hadn't existed and they were just two people, friends, having fun. Of course, that didn't stop the little tingles that feathered across her skin every time his body accidentally bumped hers. Buffy was pretty sure Faith had seated them next to each other on purpose. She'd get her back sometime soon.

"Buffy?" Angel said, cocking his head.

She blushed, realizing her thoughts of Angel had distracted her from the question. "Umm, yeah. Can you dump all the peanuts in the trash can? I'm gonna go put these in the sink." She held up the cups and bowls.

"Sure."

He strode across the room and took the trashcan that had been pulled out for the group to use during the game. As he swiped peanuts into the can, he could hear Buffy moving around in the kitchen. Even with her a room away, he couldn't drag his mind off her. This whole business-only thing was not going well at all.

Finished cleaning off the table, he wandered into the kitchen, unable to stay away. If he was smart, he would say good night and go to his room. The fact that he was now in the kitchen proved what an idiot he was. Further support for that piece of data came in the form of his eyes drifting over the smooth curves of Buffy's body, which was encased in only the shorts and tank top he'd been drawn to stare at earlier.

His hands clenched into fists at his side and Angel abruptly turned away, needing to take her out of his line of sight, and found himself staring at the very spot where they had kissed earlier. That wouldn't work either. He turned his head to the refrigerator, decorated by a myriad of colorful magnets. There, he could look at those. Seemed like a good idea until he noticed that the magnets held up a bunch of pictures that all included Buffy with one or more of her friends. Damn.

The window. He'd look out the window. The plain view of the darkened street gave Angel relief. There was nothing to remind him of Buffy by staring out the window. He needed to get a grip. Work. He was here because of his work, Angel recited in his head. Buffy was in danger and he needed to help her. He needed to find out who was stalking and threatening her. Not thinking about what she would look like without those skimpy clothes on.

Angel searched his mind for something to say, something to keep him on track. "You're friends seem nice," he finally blurted out.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "They're great."

Okay, he'd been hoping for a more elaborate answer. If he wanted to eliminate people, he needed to know more about them. Gut instinct said none of them were after Buffy. He hadn't caught any undercurrents of hate among them, but Angel needed to be sure. And he wasn't yet ready to focus only on females even though Buffy said the voice she'd heard outside her apartment was from a woman.

So far, he could only eliminate Faith, she was his partner after all, and Spike, although begrudgingly. He'd had another detective run checks on Wesley and Fred after meeting them and both came up clean. Apparently Fred's drug problem hadn't ever gotten her in trouble. So he had them tentatively crossed off his list of potential suspects. He had the guys doing a more thorough check on them still and would wait for that information before they were completely ruled out. That left Gunn and Cordelia. He needed to know more about them, and he had a feeling that Buffy wasn't going to like him questioning her about her friends. It needed to be done, though.

"So Gunn and Cordelia work at Hyperion?" he introduced the topic.

"Yeah. They were both already there when I arrived," she answered, unaware of Angel's ulterior motive. "We've been friends for a while."

"Do you know much about them?" Angel tried to ask casually.

Not casually enough as Buffy caught some unknown tone in his voice and turned to look at him through narrowed eyes. "What exactly are you asking?"

"Look," he began. "I know you don't want to consider it, but I have to look at everyone."

"You think one of those two is after me?" she asked incredulously. "Give me a break."

"I just want to know more about them." Buffy still looked unhappy with him. "I'm only doing my job," he placated.

"Fine," she snapped. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me about them, their past, their relationship with you."

Buffy leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. She was more than a little annoyed at Angel's questioning of her friends. They were people she'd known for years, after all, but she supposed she could understand Angel's point of view. Cops were trained to be suspicious. She'd answer his questions, but she didn't have to like it.

"I don't know a whole lot about Gunn. He doesn't talk about his life much. From what Faith told me, he and his sister Alonna were street kids, abandoned by their parents. His sister got messed up on heroin by her boyfriend and Gunn tried to get her help at Hyperion. She'd been doing well and then her boyfriend dumped her because she didn't want to be part of the drug scene anymore. Two days later, she OD'd and died. Faith said he was torn up about it, blamed himself. She went to Wes because she was worried about him and Wes offered Gunn a job at Hyperion. He's been there ever since."

"Was there ever anything between you and him, or did he ever seem interested in you?" Angel prodded for more.

"Gunn and me?" Buffy laughed at the ridiculous idea. "Not in the least. I think he dated Fred a time or two, but they're just friends. And that's all we've ever been."

"Okay," he accepted the information. It matched what he'd noticed throughout the night. He hadn't once caught Gunn watching Buffy or anything malicious from him, which Angel thought he'd notice if Gunn had any involvement in Buffy's situation. "What about Cordelia?"

"Ah, Queen C." At Angel's confused expression, she clarified, "That was supposedly her nickname in high school."

"Cordelia was from a rich family in Beverly Hills. She was apparently your typical spoiled little princess. Someone I would have hated if we'd gone to school together," she said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I kinda caught the spoiled vibe from her a few times," Angel replied, thinking of the brunette and what he'd noticed about her.

"It still comes out sometimes," she shook her head. "But for the most part, she's pretty nice."

"So what happened to her?" he wanted to know.

"There was some thing with her father. He skipped out on paying his taxes for...well, for a long time. Then the IRS came calling right around the time Cordy was graduating from high school. Daddy dearest went to prison and her Mom took off for Europe. They pretty much abandoned Cordy," she explained, wondering how parents could be so careless with their kids. Then again, she could imagine it. Her own father had done it to her.

"Ouch," Angel mumbled. What was it with parents these days?

"Yeah. It was pretty awful for her. She was left with nothing, not even her college fund let alone her trust fund. The IRS seized everything. She tried to become an actress, but Faith says she was awful and couldn't get any jobs."

"How did she end up getting involved with Hyperion Place?" he inquired.

"I guess she'd run out of money and gotten kicked out of her apartment one night so she was just wandering the streets, not knowing what to do," she relayed, thinking of how terrible that must have been for her friend. "Faith happened on her as she was about to be mugged and chased the guy off. When she found out Cordy had no place to go, Faith took her to Hyperion and asked Wes to let her stay for a while. So Wes took her in. He knows what kinds of things can happen to people who get stuck on the streets."

"And she just stuck around?"

"Sort of. She kept trying the acting thing for a while, but that didn't work out. I'm not sure of the details, but Faith said she thought Cordy was worried Wes would kick her out because she wasn't paying or doing anything and was living there for free. So she started helping out with whatever she could. Turned out she had a knack for pestering businesses and rich people to donate money and supplies to Hyperion. Wes was so impressed with her that he gave her a job." Buffy shrugged, gave a wry smile. "And that's the story of Cordelia."

"Have you always gotten along with her?" he questioned. So far, nothing about Cordelia made her stand out as a suspect, but it was really her connection to Buffy that mattered.

"Pretty much. We clash sometimes, but nothing major," she replied. "We bonded over bad luck in having lousy fathers."

"What about guys? Ever been interested in the same one?" That could definitely lead to conflict, Angel knew.

"You know there haven't been any guys for me," Buffy muttered, glancing away from Angel as she thought of how she'd already had to admit to him before that she hadn't been involved with anyone since him in Sunnydale. "And besides, I think she's got something going with Gunn. Faith and I haven't figured it out yet."

"Okay." Cordy seemed to be in the clear as well, but Angel would have both her and Gunn checked out. It was better to be thorough than end up screwed later.

"So are we done with the third degree now?" Buffy focused back on her annoyance. It was better than focusing on how sexy Angel looked standing their next to the window.

"For now," he told her. With the questioning over, both fell silent and Angel was once again forced to recognize Buffy standing only a few feet away from him. He felt his lust rising again and knew he needed to get out of the room before something he'd regret happened. "I guess I'll go get some sleep."

"Yeah, I should, too," Buffy echoed, happy that he was leaving the room. Having him so close was setting her nerves on edge. "I've got to go down to the gallery tomorrow and check out some stuff for the exhibition," she said, remembering the phone call she'd gotten earlier that night.

"Sure, just let me know what time."

Moving toward the doorway, Angel stopped before he exited the room. He faced Buffy again. "Thanks for answering my questions. I know you didn't like it, but I have to consider everyone if I want to keep you safe."

"I know," she answered quietly and turned back to the sink as she was reminded of why this was all going on in the first place.

Angel said nothing else, and Buffy could hear his footsteps as he crossed the apartment. She let out a sigh of relief that she was now alone in the kitchen. God, her hormones seemed to be working overtime. Even with her anger at his suspicion of her friends, she'd been fully aware of his presence so close to her.

How in the world was she going to manage to survive however many more days living with him until he caught the psycho who was after her?


The morning sunlight was streaming brightly into the room as Angel lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He'd hardly slept at all since he'd all but run out of the kitchen and away from Buffy. The little bit he had slept, he'd had a vivid dream involving a certain blonde and a container of finger paints and awoken with a hard-on that could have driven nails through steel. Only the stern reminder he'd given himself that Buffy was a case kept him from going to her.

Continuing to stare at the stark white ceiling, Angel knew he was going to have to wrap this case up as quickly as possible. It was the only solution. He couldn't act on these urges he was getting. No way could he do that. He would be asking for trouble if he did.

Sure, Angel admitted, Buffy wasn't at all what he'd made her out to be. After spending so much time around her, and learning about her past, he was forced to accept that she wasn't a bad person, and that she hadn't intentionally set out to hurt him four years ago in Sunnydale. That didn't change what had already happened between them. Not only would getting involved with her again just plain old be a bad idea, but it would also cloud the job he had to do. So his only recourse was to catch the bastard after her. And the sooner the better.

A crash sounded through the walls and into his room. Immediately tense, Angel jumped out of bed, grabbing the gun on the nightstand and tearing out of the room. He barely had time to think, let alone realize he was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts.

Angel stopped at Buffy's room and saw nothing amiss, so he continued on. From the living room, he heard a scraping sound coming from the kitchen so he cautiously made his way to the doorway. Peaking around the corner, his breath hitched at what he saw.

There, crouched down on the floor was Buffy, sweeping up the remains of what looked like a broken glass. It wasn't what she was doing that made him freeze. That was caused by what she was wearing: a shiny, soft pink silk robe. The position of her body left the robe parted at her left thigh, giving him a glimpse of her panties, and the top of the material gaped open, baring the swell of her breasts.

His body moved forward with nary a protest from his brain. Without thought, he reached over and set his gun on the counter. The action must have made some sound because Buffy's head suddenly shot up and Angel found himself staring into her shocked eyes. The silk of her robe shifted further against her skin, revealing even more than before. Pale blue lace peaked out at him from her two most intimate areas.

Angel took a step forward, then another. He couldn't have stopped himself even if he tried.


TBC!