Somehow, she knew it was him. Maybe it was her heightened Slayer intuition, or maybe it was simply the love she had for him, but as soon as Buffy picked up the phone and listened to the silence, she knew who was on the other line. Fine, if he wasn't going to talk, she would. Unhooking the phone, Buffy star 69ed, waiting for him to pick up.
"Hello?"
She didn't say anything.
"Hello?" Angel asked again, getting impatient now.
"Sorry," Buffy said, smile evident in her voice, "I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine."
"Fine, I guess I deserve that. It's good to hear your voice," he said, his sincerity warming her.
"Yours too. But did you really think you could just call and not say anything? I knew it was you, so I star 69ed your hanging-up-without-a-word ass."
"Modern tech at it's finest."
"Couldn't agree more. Is everything okay?" she asked. Then, bolstering her courage, the Slayer dived right in. "Look, I know it's not my business to pry anymore, but if you're in trouble or I can help with something..."
"No, no, everything's fine," Angel was quick to assure her. "I just..."
"Just what, Angel?" she pressed, never one for beating around the bush.
Angel sighed. She could picture him, in her head, running a hand through his hair in frustration and amusement at her typical bluntness, likely trying to reign in a smile, as she was.
"I missed you, alright? I didn't think this would be so hard," he ground out.
"I didn't, either," she admitted quietly. "Everything used to be so much easier. Growing up sure looked cheerier on all those car washing adverts and beauty infomercials, although maybe it was just the prospect of an eyeliner that goes with everything that was so enticing."
"It will get better," Angel promised her, a fierceness to his tone she hadn't heard in a long time.
"How can you be so sure?" Buffy asked him, letting some of her fear and worry bleed into her voice in a way she wouldn't have if she was talking to anyone else but him.
"Because I know you, Buffy. I know you, and I know you can do anything you put your mind to, that you always try to see the best in everyone and everything. My case in point."
Buffy tried not to blush at the compliment. Damn his sincerity. "Thanks, that's really sweet," she said, cradling the phone to her shoulder as she dragged out a kitchen chair with her foot and simultaneously grabbed her coffee cup.
"Kitchen?" he asked.
"Slash adjacent hallway."
Angel's voice took on that rare, teasing tone as he drawled, "And let me guess, nursing your fifth cup of coffee of the day."
"No, you jerk. It's only my third," she admitted weakly. "And you'd be downing the stuff too if you had as much reading as I do. I swear, I have no idea how I lasted at high school for so long."
"I'm sure your winning personality and dizzying array of glittery stationary had something to do with it."
"Hey!" Buffy chastised, mock-affronted. "Do not mock the glittery stationary. The glittery stationary has powers beyond our understanding and should not be belittled, otherwise it won't do the pile of course introduction worksheets currently gathering dust in their colour-coded folders."
"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Angel said with a chuckle she felt along her bones.
Determined to move away to more grown-up topics, Buffy asked, "What about you? Where are you holed up in?"
"Bedroom."
It was Buffy's turn to tease. "Let me guess," she began, mimicking Angel's earlier tone, "snuggled up tight with an entourage of stuffed animals?" Wishing you had Mr Gordo to protect you from the dark, spooky streets of L.A?"
"I think I'm fine with my stakes and trusty battle axe, thanks, but if that changes, I'll let you know."
"Be sure to do that. How goes the crime-fighting biz?"
"It's...going," Angel hedged. "I might have, sort of, somehow, founded a detective agency and now have Cordelia working for me, who wants to charge people so that I can cover her likely outrageous salary."
"You might as well just hand everything over to Macy's and Sephora right now and save yourself the hassle. You might even get a coupon out of it," Buffy said brightly.
Angel laughed. "That's probably true," he lamented. "Mostly, she's still the same girl we all knew and mildly tolerated," Buffy snickered at that, "but she's trying, Buffy. I think some part of her genuinely wants to help people."
"That's nice. That you've got people. Everyone needs people, Angel."
"We can't all hit the friendship jackpot like you did," he mused, trying to hide his jealousy.
Buffy thought of Willow, and Xander, of Giles, all whom she loved like family, who had done so much for her and couldn't bear the thought of living without. "I really was lucky."
Suddenly, a voice at the top of the stairs called out, "Buffy! If I knew you were coming home just to hog the phone all night, I would have left you at college and let them cough up for the phone bill."
"Sorry, Mom," Buffy called back. "Lottie B was so desperate to hear my thoughts about her dear Eddie 'I'm a lying cheat who locks up wives' Rochester that she rose from the dead. I'm so blessed."
"I know you're joking. I know it. Please tell me you are?" Joyce asked.
"Total use of sarcasm and jokery, yes."
"Fine. But be useful and do the laundry if you're going to be down there all night, would you?" she asked as she made her way back upstairs, hopefully to sort out the crates now invading her room. And they so didn't go with her wallpaper.
"I'll be slaving away through the wee small hours til the pillowcases sparkle so much you could use them to direct traffic," Buffy promised with a roll of her eyes. Parents.
On the other end of the line, Angel was desperately trying to hold in his laugh at the mother-daughter exchange. He was glad, so incredibly glad, that after learning her daughter's secret, Joyce was still as supportive as ever. Despite being the Slayer and mature beyond her eighteen years, Buffy still needed her mom.
"I take it you enjoyed that," Buffy mused as he heard her sit back in her chair.
"Maybe a little."
"More like 'a whole lot.' I may not have your vamp amped-up hearing, but even I could hear you trying not to burst into hysterics."
"You really don't like Charlotte Brontë, do you?" Angel asked, letting out a laugh: some things never changed, especially when it came to Buffy and the field of academia.
"Nope. I'll take socially awkward, annoying, insulting guy, thank you very much."
"Your past dating history would suggest otherwise," he mused. It was always infinitely amusing to tease her: she was funny as hell when she got defensive.
"Oh, and you're such a social butterfly?" she asked, dishing right back. "Not to mention when we first met you annoyed the heck out of me with your cryptic exclamations. It used to drive me crazy: all I wanted was to have a conversation with you that lasted more than five syllables," Buffy grouched.
"Why do you think I did it? You're cute when you're petulant."
"And you're just cute all the time," Buffy said.
Angel tensed.
"Sorry," she said, "that was old Buffy brain taking over. Here, let me introduce you to 'New Buffy', the sensible model who is a total grown-up and comes with a shiny keychain in the shape of a penguin."
Angel shook his head. "No, it's okay," he told her. "How could I ever refuse a compliment from you? And..." Angel took an unnecessary breath, steeling himself. "And just because I left doesn't mean I love you any less, or that I'm going on dates and partying the night away, you know? You're the best parts of me, and you always will, and I want you to be happy. But I also want to help people, too. I want to make a difference. The next time I see you, I wanna go: 'Here, this is who I am, this is what I'm doing. I've got a purpose besides looking good in black and hitting vampires in the face for you," he explained.
"Hey, sometimes you kicked them in the back, or swung them into available trees. Or, my favourite: holding them down while I stake 'em," she said, trying for light, but he could tell she was trying not to cry. "I'm not partying it up, either. I accidentally hit a guy on the head with a stack of books, and he was kinda cute, but all I thought was: he isn't you, this isn't what's right for me. Heck, I even thought I saw you at the Bronze -it was just some tall guy with dark hair- and for a moment, I was so happy, it was like the whole world stopped. But then of course reality set in and I felt like such an idiot. I guess I just missed you so badly that I saw what I wanted to."
Angel loosed a ragged breath that he hoped didn't sound like a sob."What is it with you and hitting guys in the head?" was all he was able to say to her. It gutted him, to hear her so unhappy, and for him to once again be the cause of it. Being together hurt, yet being apart hurt them just as much; even more.
Why had he thought it was a good idea to leave the only thing he had ever truly loved in his over two centuries on this earth, the only other person he'd ever known besides his little sister, Kathy, who could make him laugh and feel wanted? Why had he thought he could just pack a bag and get in his car and start over without even a word? Why, why, why?
"I don't know: maybe it's because violence is all I'm good for, all I was built for." There was nothing humourous in her voice, nothing but a brutal honesty, a heartfelt misery, a lack of hope he did not associate with her and never had. What had he done to her?
Angel hung his head although she obviously couldn't see the motion. "That's not true," he promised, "that's not true at all. Don't think like that, Buffy: you're so much more than knowing where to jab a stake."
"How do you know? How can you be sure? If I died, it wouldn't even matter: there'd be another Slayer to replace me, since Faith's out of commission I'm surprised the Council haven't done it already. What do I matter? I'm just one girl."
"You matter. You matter to me. With you, there is no 'just.' What I told you when you lost your powers with the Cruciamentum, I meant it, Buffy. I didn't even have to talk to you to know that you were the one, you were my it, forever and always. Powers or not, in college or not, successful or not, that won't change. Yes, being a Slayer is about violence, but it's also about heart, and compassion, and having inner strength. And you've got all of that, you've got it in spades, more than anyone else I've ever met. You don't ever have to worry about whether you matter, Buffy, all you have to worry about is holding onto those parts of you, the parts that make you extraordinary."
On the other end, he could hear her crying, her love and gratitude palpable even through the phone, even though she hadn't said a word. But they hadn't needed to rely on words to tell each other how they felt.
"God, I missed that. You're so good at the pep talk/monologue of wisdom thing. The most inspirational thing I've ever said is, 'Let's go shopping, I want new shoes,'" Buffy said with a shaky laugh.
Angel gave an elegant shrug. "It helps if you know your audience. Trust me, you've inspired plenty of people: you inspired me," he said, voice thick with emotion. "And shoes are important, especially when it comes to you."
"You may be the only guy I've ever known who understands that," she said.
Shifting around on the edge of the bed, Angel adjusted the phone as he asked, "Do you want to make this a regular thing?"
He heard her putting her cup down, the clink of ceramic the only sound for a few agonizing seconds. Then she said, "What, me complain to you about my life while you sit there and take it like a champ? I thought you let Sunnydale to get away from 'Emotional Baggage Buffy'," the Slayer snarked. If it was anyone else, he'd take it as a joke, but not her: he could tell she wanted to say yes, but was hesitant, and scared. He was too. Opening that can of worms wasn't a joyous experience for anyone involved. And yet...and yet he needed her. There was no shame, no guilt in that admission; it was a simple fact of his immortal life. If he was going to help people, going to be among humanity, what better person to remind him of that than the one who made him feel the most human?
So the vampire told her, "You know I can take anything you throw at me, Summers. But yeah, I think we should. If only to keep each other apprized of what's going on in our respected cities for...work purposes." Angel mentally kicked himself. Worst excuse ever.
"Just work purposes?"
Yeah, she'd seen right through that one
Buffy sighed. "Okay, okay, have it your way," she mocked half-heartedly. "Call it what you want, but I know secretly you just want all that juicy Sunnydale gosp."
"Maybe."
Her laugh was still one of the best sounds he'd ever heard. "And Buffy scores again. So, tell me how Queen Cordelia crossed paths with our brooding avenger of the night," she demanded, like a child wanting their favourite bedtime story
"Are you sure?" Angel asked, settling back against the pillows. "That could take a while."
"Good," he heard her say.
Author's Note: Hello, welcome to another Bangel one-shot. Now I know that in the Buffy' episode, Angel calls during the day, and that she doesn't see that guy at the Bronze until after said phonecall, but to me it worked better this way. So, what did you think? I'd love it if you left a review and told me your thoughts.
Thank you so much for reading, and if you liked this I have lots of other stories you may enjoy!
All my love, Temperance Cain
