Part 14
"Damnit!" Angel cursed angrily as he jostled his injured shoulder while trying to pull up the jeans Buffy had brought him. He was more than happy to get out of that completely indecent gown the hospital had made him wear, but getting dressed was turning into a major chore. Who knew using only one arm could make putting on a pair of pants so difficult?
After a few minutes of struggling, he finally managed to get the denim up over his hips, and then stared in dismay at the zipper and button. Now how the hell was he supposed to get that done up? He tried using just his good – right – arm, but met little success. The zipper just wouldn't go up, and he knew trying to do the button would be futile with just one hand. There was just no way to finish the task on his own.
Buffy chose that moment to walk back into the room. She took one look at Angel, with his jeans undone and no shirt on, and had to work hard to keep a gasp from escaping. He was too beautiful for words, all lean muscle and wide shoulders. She had a desperate desire to run her hands all over his chest. It was the sight of the pristine, white bandage on his left shoulder that brought her back to reality. Right, Angel was hurt. He really didn't need her drooling all over him. It would be best if she just...left the room while he was half-naked.
"I'm, uh, sorry. I'll...I'll come back in a few minutes," she stuttered, backing toward the door.
"Wait!" Angel quickly requested. Buffy gazed at him expectantly, causing him to grimace as he thought about what he intended to ask her. "I...umm...can't seem too...," he trailed off and looked over at his limp left arm, then to his unbuttoned pants.
"Oh." A crimson blush worked up Buffy's face as she stared at the crotch of his pants. He needed her to...oh boy. She could do this. She could help Angel get dressed. Yup, she could do it. Right.
Taking a few steps forward, she approached Angel. When she stood in front of him, she found all she could was stand there and stare. How the hell was she supposed to do this? And why had she thought she could in the first place? Her fingers clenched at her side. Maybe she should just go get a nurse to help. Wasn't that nice Tara woman on duty right now?
No, she could do this. After all Angel had done for her throughout this ordeal, the least she could do was help him to get dressed. He wouldn't need help if he hadn't been shot while protecting her. So yes, she would help him. Even if she died of embarrassment. Or lust.
Just do it and get it over with, she told herself. Reaching a hand out blindly, her fingers smacked into Angel's abdomen. Not the right spot. She was going to have to try harder than this. So she forced her gaze downwards and took a deep breath. All she had to do was raise the zipper and do up the button.
The zipper had other ideas because no matter which way she tugged, the damned thing wouldn't move even a millimeter. Figured. This was going to require a little more effort than she hoped. Dropping to her knees, Buffy blushed again when she ended up eye level with Angel's crotch. What had she done to deserve this torture?
As Buffy fiddled with his zipper, Angel used every technique he could think of to keep his mind distracted. It didn't help very much. The sight of Buffy crouched in front of him was more than a man could handle. Well, at least more than he could handle. He could feel his blood rushing south, recognized the telltale pulsing in his groin. This was going to be very, very bad if Buffy didn't finish soon.
Thankfully for both of them, Buffy managed to un-snag the zipper and finished the task quickly. She was back on her feet and halfway across the room from Angel before he could blink. He frowned at the action. Did she want to be away from him that much? Or had she been as turned on as he was by the situation? Probably the former given the way she'd acted after their morning together several days ago.
Angel eyed Buffy for a moment. They still had not been able to talk about what had happened in her kitchen. She'd avoided the subject right afterwards, and then he'd been shot. The hospital hadn't seemed like a good place to bring it up so he'd left it alone. It really needed to be addressed, though. Things had been awkward between them since. Once they were back at her apartment, he'd corner her and make her talk.
Right now, he had to finish getting dressed. The sooner he did, the sooner he could be out of this place. Hospitals definitely weren't on his list of favorite places to be. He turned to the bed and gazed at his shirt. Yeah. Now how was he supposed to get that thing on?
Seeing Angel's distress at the thought of putting on his shirt, Buffy sighed. Could this day get any more difficult? "Here, let me help."
"Thanks," he grumbled in response and picked up the button down shirt. Good thing it had buttons. He didn't think he'd be able to put on a sweater or a t-shirt.
Buffy took the shirt from him and held it open. "I figured this would be easier than a regular shirt. I think you'll have to just put one arm in and then button it over the other one.
"Okay," he nodded, then stuck his uninjured right arm into the sleeve. Buffy passed the shirt around him and buttoned a few buttons in the front. It definitely wasn't stylish, but it would do.
"All done," Buffy stated, and gave a smile that was more relief than triumph. "Once it's less sore, you'll probably be able to get your other arm in the sleeve. I think it was almost two weeks before I even tried it."
"Huh?" What was she talking about?
"When I broke my collarbone falling out of a tree," she reminded him of the event that had ended up changing her life, making her face things she hadn't previously wanted to. "I could barely move my arm for weeks, but you didn't break the bone so once it's less sore, you'll probably be able to get it into a sleeve."
"Oh, right," he mumbled. He'd nearly forgotten about the things from her past. More and more these days, he thought of her only in terms of the person she was now. That probably wasn't smart on his part. He shouldn't forget the past.
"So, umm," Buffy shuffled her feet. Why was this so awkward? Oh, right. She'd slept with Angel and now they were doing that morning after thing. Only, this morning after was lasting days and days. It royally sucked. "Is there anything else we need to do before we leave?"
"I don't think so." He shook his head. "That Lorne guy was in and had me sign the release papers. So I think that's it."
"I guess we can go, then."
"Wait," Angel cut in. He frowned and looked around the room, suddenly realizing something. "Where's Faith? Wasn't she supposed to be here? You didn't come here by yourself did you?" he said sharply
"No, I didn't come by myself," Buffy answered with a sigh. She was really getting sick of her lack of freedom. "Faith followed me over and walked up here with me, but she said she needed to stop in at the station for something. She's going to meet us back at my apartment in an hour or so."
"Okay, good." Angel felt the tightness in his chest release. The idea that Buffy had come to get him on her own had scared him to death. Whoever was after her wasn't going to stop until he or she managed to get to Buffy, or was caught. She simply couldn't take any chances. The less she was alone, the safer she would be.
"I don't see why she has to stay at my apartment, too," she grumbled, thinking about how Angel and Faith had decided that Faith would stay on Buffy's couch along with Angel sleeping in Dawn's room. Thank goodness Dawn had gone back to Sunnydale with Giles and Jenny or they'd really be in trouble.
"We talked about this, Buffy," he replied, leaning back against the bed. God, his shoulder hurt. And he was tired. It was ridiculous. He'd only been up for a few hours and already he was exhausted. Dr. Lorne was right when he said bullet wounds were nothing like they were on TV.
"I can't protect you as well as I could with my shoulder hurt. You'll be safer if Faith is there," he went on, once again explaining the line of reasoning.
"Then why don't you go back to your apartment? I'm sure you'd be more comfortable there," she posed, thinking that she'd be more comfortable as well if he wasn't always so close by. Of course, if he went home, she wouldn't be able to help take care of him. She felt obligated to do that since he'd been shot helping her. She wanted to help anyway, it just wasn't easy with the weirdness between them.
"No," Angel said firmly. It was out of the question. He wasn't leaving Buffy alone until she was completely safe. "I may be hurt, but having both Faith and I with you is better. This psycho is escalating, Buffy. Shooting at you upped the ante."
"I hate this!" she snapped, pacing a few steps. "I can't do anything!"
Angel walked over to Buffy and put a hand on her arm, halting her jerky movements. "I know this is hard. We're doing the best we can to catch whoever is after you."
Sighing, Buffy pushed her hair back. "I know, I know. I'm not mad at you. I just...I can't stand this. Someone hates me so much they are stalking me and apparently trying to kill me. And I have no idea why!"
Against his better judgment, Angel used his good arm and wrapped it around Buffy's shoulders. Pulling her closer, he hugged her. She held herself stiffly against him for a moment, but then relaxed. Angel rested his cheek on the top of her head, feeling a peace within him that he couldn't explain. She just felt so right.
Buffy sighed, allowing the comfort of Angel's embrace to soothe her. She knew she was being weak, but she couldn't seem to help it. Everything was stressing her out. Some lunatic wanted to kill her, and Angel had been shot. Then there was her relationship – or whatever it was – with Angel. Who wouldn't be stressed? It felt good, though, to be held by Angel. He was like a giant, warm, man-sized security blanket. Except Buffy didn't think that security blankets typically got a person aroused. With Angel holding her like this, her breasts pressed against his chest, she couldn't stop the tingling that arose in her body.
Stepping away quickly, lest she make a fool of herself because Angel didn't want her, Buffy walked to the bed and picked up the bag of Angel's things. "I guess we, umm, can go now. If you're ready."
"Yeah, sure." He was scum, Angel told himself. Who got a stiffy just hugging someone? Him, obviously. He angled his body to hide the telltale bulge in his pants and started toward the door. It would go away soon. He hoped.
As he reached the door, the nurse he recognized as Tara entered the room, pushing a wheel chair in front of her. "R-ready to l-leave, Mr. Callahan?"
"Uhh, yeah." Angel eyed the wheelchair warily. "I don't need that."
"I-it's policy," she said, positioning the chair and setting the brake."
"I can walk just fine," he reiterated his stance on the subject. He certainly did not need to be wheeled out of the hospital like some invalid.
"Just sit down, Angel," Buffy stated, glaring at him. "You're not going to get out of here until you do."
"Fine," he grumbled and sat, wincing slightly as his shoulder bumped the back of the chair. "Let's get this over with."
The group made their way to the elevator and then down to the first floor, speaking only when necessary. Buffy fought to keep a smile off her face. Angel was practically pouting over being made to ride in a wheelchair. It was pretty damn amusing, in her opinion.
Buffy pulled her car keys out of her pocket and glanced at Angel when they'd reached the outdoor entrance area. "I'll go bring the car around."
In the blink of an eye, Angel had his hand clenched around Buffy's wrist, keeping her from walking off. "No."
She eyed him in confusion. "What? It'll be easier to get you in the car if I bring it here."
"You're not walking out there by yourself," he stated, getting ready to push himself out of the chair. How could she even think about walking out there unprotected?
"But my car's right over there." She pointed at her red Mercedes, parked not that far away. Angel would be able to see her the whole time.
"No," he said again with a vehement shake of his head. He was taking no chances. "I can walk just fine. You don't need to bring the car around."
"Oh fine. Whatever," she gave in. There was no use arguing with him.
Ten minutes later, they were packed into Buffy's little car and on their way to her apartment. The ride was quiet, both focused on things other than talking. Angel's mind was drifting back to the night of the shooting. He hadn't really focused all that much on it while at the hospital, as being doped up on pain meds had kept him groggy and dazed most of the time. Now, he was fully considering the events of that night.
His heart lurched at the knowledge that Buffy had come so close to being killed. He knew he had, too, but it was her that he couldn't stop thinking about. When he'd realized the dark shadow on the sidewalk was holding a gun, he'd had one of those freaky life-flashing-before-your-eyes moments. Only it hadn't exactly been his life he'd seen. It had been his time with Buffy, and Buffy herself. They'd been only fleeting images, but they'd struck a chord.
What would have happened if he hadn't seen the person and the gun? Buffy would quite possibly be dead. The thought caused a shudder to work through him. He certainly didn't want her dead. He didn't want to see any innocent person uselessly gunned down, but the idea that Buffy could have been so easily harmed hurt in ways he couldn't describe.
He was in big trouble, Angel told himself. Against his better judgment, and against all the things he'd told himself when this had all started, he'd been drawn in by her once again. Yup, he was in big, big trouble. What he was going to do with that realization, he hadn't a clue. It'd come to him. Hopefully.
"It should warm up in a few minutes," Buffy relayed after adjusting the thermostat inside her apartment.
A rather odd cold front had moved over Los Angeles, dropping the temperature over fifteen degrees below normal. It'd been raining off an on all morning as well, and the weather report had said that strong storms were possible. Definitely a good day to be stuck inside. Except that it meant she was stuck with Angel. Not an easy task when half the time he made her skin tingle and the other half she was a confused mess.
"It's not all that cold," he answered, though it was a bit chilly. He was too used to the usual steamy California temperatures.
Shifting on the couch – where Buffy had ordered him as soon as they'd entered the apartment – he tried to think of something else to say or do. He never knew how to act around Buffy anymore. They always seemed to be walking on egg shells around each other these days. As much as he'd enjoyed their tryst in the kitchen several days ago, he wondered if it hadn't been a mistake. They'd been getting along fairly well before that. Since then, awkward was a mild term for how things were between them.
His eyes drifted to the left and he saw a TV sitting on the entertainment center. "You got a new TV."
"Oh, yeah," she shrugged and walked aimlessly in the direction of the object in question. "Faith and I went and got it yesterday. We figured it would keep you from getting too bored while you're, uh, recovering."
"Thanks," he replied, though it bothered him to think about how he was incapacitated.
"We got some movies too." She picked up several DVD cases that would play in her also-brand-new DVD player
"You didn't have to spend so much," he told her. "I could have read a book or two."
"It wasn't that much. And it's not like I can't afford it." A sardonic smile formed and Buffy shook her head. "My opening the other night was a big success." That still baffled her somewhat, but she understood the reasoning behind it.
"Really? Even with..."
Buffy snorted. "All the excitement just drove the prices up more. According to my agent, this kind of thing, ya know controversy, almost getting killed, all that, just drives interest up. The gallery owner told me that every piece that was available for sale went for almost double the predicted prices."
"Wow. That's, uh...good. I guess." Weird, too, but Angel knew that was how things worked in this crazy world.
"Yeah. So even though I could afford a new TV and DVD player before, I can really afford them now." And normally she enjoyed shopping, Buffy thought silently, but the whole time she and Faith had been out yesterday, she'd been looking over her shoulder. A trip to the mall would have been fun, but after picking out the TV and DVD player, all Buffy had wanted to do was go home and get away from the crowds of people.
"So...wanna watch a movie?" she continued, deciding it was the safest thing for them to do.
"Sure," he answered, though it really didn't matter to him. Angel suppressed a yawn. Damn medicine was still making him tired.
Settling in, with Angel lounging on the couch and Buffy on the cushiony chair, they decided to watch xXx, which Angel enjoyed for the action, and Buffy sighed over Vin Diesel. They laughed over the fact that the main character was called Xander and Angel had a friend named Xander, who Buffy had met when he came to install new locks on her doors what seemed like ages ago. Mostly, they just watched without talking.
Halfway through the movie when Buffy made a comment about a scene and received no response, she glanced over at Angel. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and steady. He was asleep. The sight made her smile. And sigh. What she wouldn't give to just curl up next to him. Not possible, of course. Angel didn't want her like that. The kitchen incident had been a mistake.
Buffy picked up the remote and turned off the DVD and TV. They could finish watching the movie later. She might as well get some stuff done while Angel was sleeping. He would probably be hungry when he got up. She'd do a little cleaning and then figure out something to make for dinner. Her cooking skills were average, at best, but there had to be something she could throw together that wouldn't kill him.
As she started to walk away, she heard Angel shift on the couch. A pained expression crossed his face, the movement seeming to have hurt him, but he didn't wake. Poor guy, she thought. He had to be in a lot of pain.
His bag from the hospital was sitting next to the couch so Buffy decided she'd save him the trouble and put his things away herself. With his left arm mostly useless for now, he would probably hurt himself if he tried to do it on his own. Still, she felt a little guilty pawing through his stuff. Hopefully he wouldn't mind the favor.
Once inside Dawn's room – the room Angel was using while staying with her – she dumped the bag out on the bed. There wasn't been much inside. The clothes he'd been wearing the night of the opening were there, covered with blood. Her fingers touched the dried stains and she shuddered. She forced herself not to think about what had happened.
The clothes would probably have to be thrown away, but she'd let Angel decide that. For now, she set them on top of the dresser. Also in the bag were his watch, a silver necklace he wore, and a roll of cherry Lifesavers. The candy made her smile. She didn't know Angel had a sweet tooth. She put those on the dresser as well, next to his gun, police badge, and wallet, which she'd brought home from the hospital the first time she'd come back to her apartment after the shooting. They weren't things that could be left at the hospital.
Left on the bed from the bag were several papers. The first was a two-sided sheet that had care instructions for his wound, how to manage the pain and also indications of infection, which if seen required immediate treatment. She read the sheet over thoroughly, determined to make sure everything possible was done to make sure Angel healed properly.
Beneath the after-care instructions, Buffy spied two smaller pieces of paper. Frowning, she picked them up and read them. Her scowl deepened when she realized that both were prescriptions. One seemed to be for a pain killer, and the other for an antibiotic. Angel hadn't said anything to her about needing to fill two prescriptions on the way home. Maybe he'd forgotten.
She nibbled on her lower lip and considered the problem. Angel really needed these medicines. The pain killer he would probably wave off, but the antibiotic was definitely necessary. He could get an infection if he didn't take it. The doctor, Lorne, had told her that given how well he was doing, the chance of infection was small, but it was more than possible.
What was she supposed to do now? Her eyes flicked to the window on one side of the room. There was a pharmacy only a few blocks away. She'd used it a few months ago when she'd had a sinus infection. It would probably only take her thirty minutes to pop over and get Angel's prescriptions filled. She took the two papers and walked out to the living room. Angel would kill her for considering it. She wouldn't be gone long, though, and it was still daylight. She'd be safe, wouldn't she? And she certainly wouldn't mind doing something on her own.
Buffy gripped the papers tighter and considered waking Angel to go with her. He looked so peaceful at the moment. She just couldn't make herself wake him. There probably wasn't much pain when he was sleeping. Who was she to deprive him of some comfort? Besides, she could probably be out and back before he even noticed. Or she could wait for Faith to arrive. Buffy checked her watch. Who knew when her friend would finally show up. She was already almost an hour late.
Sighing, Buffy picked up her cordless phone and dialed Faith's cell number. The least she could do was try to reach her. Maybe Faith was on her way over now. Buffy got no answer, though. It just clicked over to voicemail so she hung up. Now what?
She'd get the prescriptions filled, that's what. She wasn't helpless or a coward. And she was really tired of having her life dictated by this psycho. Determined, she strode over to the small table by the door and picked up her car keys and purse. Thirty minutes, that's all it would take.
Hesitating at the door, she glanced back at Angel. She should leave him a note. He'd freak out if he woke up and didn't know where she was. A short note would take care of that. Well, not really. He'd still freak out, but at least he'd know where she went. So she jotted down a few short lines on the notepad she kept on the little table and walked out the door. Thirty minutes and she'd be back. He probably wouldn't even know she'd left.
Faith walked down the sidewalk and felt like pulling her hair out. The interview she'd had to do was only supposed to have taken a half hour. Instead, she'd been stuck with the neurotic, rambling twit for over an hour and forty-five minutes. And all over a missing statue. Some rich, eccentric business man was sure one of his staff had stolen his ugly marble figurine of elephants or giraffes or whatever it was and had babbled to her for almost two hours about it. Weirdo.
She hadn't even been able to call Buffy to tell her she'd be late. Faith hoped there hadn't been any problems getting Angel home from the hospital. At least she'd be at Buffy's soon. All she had to do was drive a few miles.
As she pulled open the driver's side door of her car, Faith glanced down and groaned. Great. A flat tire. A fucking, goddamned flat tire. Just her shitty luck.
Her hand darted to her hip for her cell phone and came up empty. She groped around, thinking the clip had shifted and her hands encountered only her belt. What the hell? Looking down, she frowned when she saw nothing. Where the hell was her cell phone?
Striding quickly, Buffy's footsteps echoed through the parking garage. The sound made her twitchy. The garage made her twitchy. Everything made her twitchy. Maybe she should have walked instead of opting to take her car. Maybe she should have stayed in her apartment.
The car's only a few feet away, Buffy told herself. Soon she'd be locked safe inside. She kept that thought in mind the last few steps. Her breath whooshed out when she finally made it to the car's door. She'd made it. Everything would be just fine.
Buffy jabbed the key into the lock.
And had only a split-second to react to the sudden feeling that someone was behind her. It wasn't enough time.
Pain exploded inside her head and she slumped against the car door as the world around her went black.
TBC!
