Buffy sat in Giles living room, telling him all about the hell that was registration at U.C. Sunnydale. Her, Willow, and Oz had to get in line before sunrise to make sure they were able to snag a spot in the most popular classes. Since they were freshman, they were at the very bottom of the totem pole, and spaces were extremely limited. Luckily they had all managed to get a spot in Professor Walsh's Psych class, but only Willow was lucky enough to get into Art History with Doctor Roberts.
As Giles stood over the stove making a pot of tea, she began rummaging through the various items on his end table. She knew he was feigning interest in her ramblings, but Willow was busy with Oz, and Xander was still gone on his self guided tour of America. She had even resorted to hanging with Cordelia a few times this summer, though she too was gone now, searching for superstardom somewhere in Los Angeles.
Thumbing through the yellow notepad that he kept next to his phone, a certain name grabbed her attention. It couldn't be. Giles would have mentioned something if he had heard from him, wouldn't he? Working her bottom lip between her teeth, she grabbed the pad once more. Flipping the pages exactly as she had before, she stopped when she saw the name once again.
There it was neatly scribbled in Giles handwriting, his name. Beneath it a phone number, and an address in Los Angeles. Her mind was reeling, he could call Giles but not her. A part of her understood but the other part, the irrational heart broken part of her was furious that he hadn't even felt her important enough to let her know he was okay. Ever since he left she had worried about him, every single day. She didn't know where he was, what he was doing, hell he could have died and she wouldn't have known.
Quickly copying down the information from notepad, she folded the paper and quickly shoved it into her back pocket. Giles came out of the kitchen, two tea cups in hand, only to see Buffy grabbing her purse and slipping back into her black flats. Glancing at the notepad next to his phone, he knew exactly what she had seen.
"Buffy, it's not what you think," he urged as he gently lowered the glasses in his hands to the bar beside him.
Not really wanting to hear anything he had to say at the moment, and not trusting herself to speak, she simply nodded her head as she slipped her crossbody over her shoulder.
"He wanted to let me know where he was in case there was ever an emergency, pulling his glasses off to polish he continued, "No good would have come from him contacting you Buffy, you know that.".
Cutting her eyes across to meet him own, she attempted to swallow the thick lump that had formed in her throat. Closing her eyes full of unshed, she tried her best not to fall a part in front of him . "I didn't even know where he was, if he was okay," she whispered, her voice heavy and full of emotion.
His heart broke for the girl. Despite his personal problems regarding Angel, he would never deny his love for Buffy.
"You know calling him won't solve anything Buffy, it will only make things harder, for the both of you." Still refusing to meet his eyes, she nodded slightly as she walked out the front door mumbling something about her mother needing help with dinner.
Giles sighed as he watched her scurry out his apartment, he couldn't believe that he had forgotten about the phone call he received last week. He couldn't believe he was left the damn notepad out for her to find. Watching her leave in silence, he only hoped that Angel was strong enough to resist whatever temptation was coming his way.
OoOoO
She sat on her bed staring at the crumpled up piece of paper. Her body craved the sound of his voice more than her lungs required air, besides she was already suffocating beneath the void of his absence. Oxygen was overrated.
Giles was right, whether he called her or not, nothing good would come from them speaking. Nothing except the ease to this ache in her chest. It wasn't fair, he knew where she was, he could crawl through her window, or pick up the phone to call whenever he wanted.
While here she was left here to wonder, not knowing if he had left the state, the country, or hell even the continent… except she wasn't wondering anymore.
Now she knew.
That crinkled piece of paper held the key to every single question that had plagued her since graduation. How many nights had she lain awake willing for her phone to ring, how many times had she imagined him crawling through her window, as he'd done countless times in the past. Times that she had always taken for granted, she understood why he had to leave, she just didn't understand why it had to hurt so badly.
He was basically down the street, a simple car ride away. She was from L.A., she knew exactly how long it took to get inside the city limits. She knew exactly what roads to take, she even knew which routes to use in order to avoid traffic. He was approximately ninety-two minutes away from where she sat, glancing at the clock, again she calculated how many times she could make it to him before sunset.
But she couldn't, she had to be strong, his soul depended on it. Despite what every single cell in her body told her, she couldn't run to him. She needed him too badly, and she loved him too much to risk it.
Except a phone call posed no risk to his soul, just their hearts, which were already broken.
Grabbing the phone, she quickly punched each digit into the receiver before she chickened out. It was late evening, she was sure he was probably still asleep. By the fourth ring she nearly had herself convinced to hang up, telling herself that she should try back later… or not at all. Then on the fifth, she heard a noise on the other end of the line, it sounded as though someone had dropped the phone. Holding her breath she waited to hear a voice, his voice.
"Hello," all of the air rushed out of her lungs the instant she heard him. As she thought he had been asleep, his voice still held that deep raspy tone it always did when he first woke up. She always loved surprising him, waking him up, just so she could listen to him speak.
He wasn't sure who would be calling him at this hour, then he saw the caller I.D. and swore he felt his heart skip a beat. He had debated for a few moments whether or not he should answer, but who was he kidding. He'd been lying in bed fantasizing about the exact girl in question, his body had been silently screaming out for its mate.
For the last hour he had counted the dots on the ceiling, as he listed all the reasons why he couldn't go back to Sunnydale, to her. She deserved so much more than he had to offer, she deserved everything. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, including answering phone calls he knew should be ignored.
He could hear her breath through the receiver, "Buffy," he groaned her name out in the way that only he ever could.
Tears instantly flooded her eyes, gasping she tried to find her voice through the heavy lump in her throat.
"Angel?"
The sound of her voice was nearly his undoing. He'd known when he called Giles it was risky, but at the time it was either call Giles or drive to Sunnydale and lose himself in her. Besides he needed to know that he could be contacted if something really bad were to ever go down. He needed to know that she was okay.
He could tell that she had been crying, laying back on his bed, he closed his eyes and imagined her there with him.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
Unable to contain the sob that tore from her throat, she quickly walked over to close her bedroom door. Curling onto her side, she cradled the phone to her ear, holding onto it as though it were her last lifeline. "I didn't know where you were," she somehow managed between sobs.
His head fell back to the pillow behind him, he couldn't stand to hear her so upset. This was why he had just left after the fight with the mayor, he knew he wouldn't be able to walk away and leave her like this. "Shhh I'm okay, please don't cry beautiful."
Hot tears streamed down her face, hearing his voice after so long was such a relief, but it caused her fingers to literally ache, needing to touch him.
"Angel, I miss you. I can't do this, I can't breathe, it feels like I can't fucking breathe. Please come home."
His heart ached for her, in that moment he would have traded anything to comfort her, soul be damned. He had never heard her this upset before, she was panicking. Had it not been for the sunlight, he knew that he'd be on his way to Sunnydale right now. "I'm right here, baby talk to me. Calm down, I'm not going anywhere. Tell me about your day, how was your summer?"
Grabbing a tissue from the box she kept stashed next to her bed, she gasped for air as she tried to control herself. All the while listening to him plead with her to calm down, to stop crying. She didn't know it was possible to physically miss someone so much.
"I-I registered for classes today," she choked out, desperately wanting to tell him everything, like she used too.
Some of the tension eased from his body as she finally began to speak. She told him about registering for classes this morning, and how she found his number and address at Giles afterwards. Then she went on to tell him about the big bads she had run across since he left, which thankfully wasn't very many. For some reason the demon population always seemed to lay low in the summer months, probably due to the longer days. He was grateful she had been granted some sort of a reprieve, heavens knew she needed it.
She updated him on the gang, and informed him that both Wesley and Cordelia had left not long after graduation. He heard the bitterness in her voice when she said that Cordy too, had come to Los Angeles.
"I don't want Cordy, Buffy," he mumbled, causing her to pause mid-sentence. "I know, but she gets to be there. Closer to you…" he chuckled lightly to himself, god how he'd missed her logic. "L.A. isn't Sunnydale my love. I doubt I'll ever even see her."
"Still," she pouted.
Then she asked him what made him decide on L.A., and without hesitation he answered her directly.
"You."
A heavy silence hung between them as she waited for him to continue, unsure how to respond. "I couldn't stand to drive another mile away from you, I wanted to be close enough… in case you ever needed me."
"I need you now," she whispered her voice full of want, full of need.
"Buffy," he pleaded, unsure of where this conversation was going, but knowing they were trudging into dangerous waters.
He could hear her shuffling about, his imagination taunted him. "What are you doing," he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Mmm, changing."
He knew that he should leave it at that, it was bad enough he answered the phone, to put them through anything else would be torturous. Even though he told himself to let it go, the logical side of his brain lost out to the man, the next thing he heard was his own voice betraying him.
"Into what?"
Her movements stilled, a warmth instantly flooded her veins as one of his old shirts enveloped her. Clearing her throat she tried to mask the lust from her voice, not wanting to cause him to hang up, she wasn't ready to let him go yet.
"One of your shirts."
Angel could feel his shaft begin to come alive at the picture she created. Shifting in his bed he tried once more to argue with himself, but again he heard his voice asking her, "Which one?"
Crawling back into her bed, she slipped underneath the covers, inhaling the cotton deeply she tried to imagine him lying next to her. "My favorite grey one," she told him softly.
"But it doesn't smell like you anymore," she sighed.
Angel smirked into the phone, even though he left her to move on, it eased his heartache to know she missed him just as much as he missed her. "You smell better anyway."
She could hear the lust in his voice, his tone had changed to one that she recognized from nights they had spent together pushing boundaries. Her heart seized in her chest once more, her need for him out weighing any rationality she possessed.
"God I miss you so much, I didn't know it was possible to physically hurt like this," squeezing her eyes closed she pleaded with him, "Tell me not to come to L.A. Angel.".
He could tell she was starting to spiral again, she couldn't come here, he didn't possess the willpower to turn her away. "Shhh, I'll make it better," he promised into the phone.
"How could you possibly make this better, there is no better, you're gone," she began sobbing once more. Her hands clutching the comforter around her, she wouldn't wish this pain on anyone.
"Listen to me, are you in your room? Lock your door."
Obeying his command, she wiped at her eyes and stood from her bed, quickly locking the door. Flipping her lights off, she noticed the sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon as she crawled back between the covers. "Okay," she whispered suddenly feeling a bit shy, everything she had experienced had been with him, but this was uncharted territory.
He knew she was nervous, he'd never trusted himself to venture here when he lived in Sunnydale. Too worried that he'd be unable to resist the temptation.
Closing his eyes, he imagined her exactly as she was, crying and vulnerable, clothed only in his shirt. All he wanted was to comfort her, he could deal with the pain, he deserved it, she shouldn't have too.
"What's your favorite memory of us?"
Her favorite memory of them? She wasn't even sure she knew, but she was pretty sure that she had replayed every single one of them hundreds of times.
"You mean aside from my birthday," she asked her tears calming.
He hadn't dared hope that she treasured that memory after what his demon put her through. They hadn't really discussed anything about her birthday once he came back from Acathla's hell dimension, each of them had firmly placed that night in a category that was off-limits. Though there wasn't a memory that he treasured more in his long life.
"That's definitely the best one," he murmured softly, using his hand to adjust himself inside his boxers. He allowed his mind to recall that most treasured memory, closing his eyes, he watched the images of her dance before him.
"I remember how cold you were, shivering in my arms. I remember rolling over on top of you, your thighs cradling my hips. I remember what your skin tasted like when I kissed my way down your bare breast. I remember what it felt like after our clothes were discarded when I laid a top you for the first time. But most of all I remember how your entire body shuddered as I entered you, I remember the small moan that escaped your lips when I fully sheathed myself inside of you. I remember exactly how your body began to move against mine, I remember what it felt like to have your thighs shake around my waist. I remember...every little thing."
Buffy hung onto every word, it wasn't often that he spoke so candidly, especially about that night. She wasn't sure how this was supposed to make anything better, the ache between her thighs only seemed to be growing stronger. Though she didn't dare interrupt for fear that he would stop talking, his admissions soothing her bruised soul.
He could hear her breathing increase, his cock throbbed angrily against him, reaching into his bedside table he grabbed the bottle of hand lotion she had left at the mansion. Pumping some into his hand, her essence immediately surrounded him as he reached for his swollen shaft, slowly stroking himself as he continued.
"That Halloween, the first time I tasted you, I knew it was going to become my favorite pastime. The way your fingers gripped my hair, holding me to you unashamed. When you came against my tongue, it took all of my two hundred plus years of experience not to embarrass myself. You have no idea how badly I wanted to make love to you that night, but I knew you weren't ready. I'm still not sure how I made it back down that tree honestly."
Her hand crept beneath his shirt that she was wearing, tracing a path up and down the side of her stomach. She imagined her hand as his own when she slipped her fingers below the satin of her panties. Knowing this likely wasn't an experience they would ever repeat, she wanted to go slow, draw it out for as long as she could. Teasing herself, she ran her finger up the slit of her opening, circling her clit, she wished so much she could go back to the night he spoke of.
"You wouldn't let me touch you. I remember finally garnering the courage to reach for your belt, only to have you grip my hands and pin them above my head as you devoured my lips. I'd never been kissed that way before, I think that was the first time I truly craved you. I remember the more you kissed me, the more I wanted, needed you. I remember the relentless ache that I felt in my core as my hips cradled yours. I remember knowing I needed something but not being sure what it was. I remember feeling the hard length of you pressed between us, as my body unconsciously ground against your own. I remember nodding my head in silent permission as you slowly inched my pajama pants and panties down and over my hips. I was so nervous, but when your thumb reached out to roll over my clit, all my fears seemed to vanish, as I became lost in a sensation I'd never experienced before. Then when you traded your thumb for your tongue, I remember thinking that I was going to die from the shear sensation, from the heat that threatened to consume me from the inside."
Angel had begun to lightly pant into the phone, not wanting to rush, he continued to slowly work himself base to tip. When the first bead of moisture appeared at the slit of his swollen purple head, he used his thumb to spread the moisture around his aching tip, desperately wishing it was her hand that was bringing him this pleasure. "Tell me more," he demanded huskily.
Wetness flooded her thighs at the sound of his voice, "Angel, I'm so wet," she whined into the phone.
Gripping his cock more firmly, he had to still his movements for a moment, wanting to make sure they reached that final peak of ecstasy together. "Mmm, my cock is throbbing beautiful, I crave your warmth more than I crave blood. I lay in bed for hours sometimes, imagining what it would feel like to slide into your hot depths. When it gets too much to bare, I always use your lotion, but even then it's nothing compared to you my love."
He heard her breathing go from slow and steady, to heavy and erratic. He had no doubts she was bringing herself closer to the edge. "Tell me what you're doing, tell me how it feels," he half pleaded with her, as he began to slowly work himself again.
She had to struggle to keep her voice steady, "I'm imagining that it's your fingers, you're teasing me like you always loved to do. You're slipping one of your fingers inside of me, but only for a moment so that you can use the moisture to circle my clit, not quite touching, not yet. Your other hand has worked its way up under my shirt to fondle my bare breast, tweaking my nipples like you always do, until both of them are a peak of overworked nerves…" she trailed off, lost in her own pleasure.
Angel struggled to remain in control, his hips began to meet his own thrusts, as he lightly increased his speed. "Massage your clit," he commanded. Knowing he wouldn't be able to hold out too much longer.
Relenting she did as he requested, using two fingers, she began rolling the swollen bundle of nerves between her fingers. Instantly her gasps turned into light moans, as she brought herself closer to that edge. "I-I lov-loved the silky feel of you hard and swollen inside my palms, my favorite nights were the ones when you would let me explore your body. When you showed me how to take you into my mouth, instructing me how to relax my throat, so that I could take you fully... I miss the way you taste." Her fingers began to work herself with more determination, she was beyond that point of return. She was no longer teasing, no now she demanded relief. Her moans increased, as her hips too began to move on their own accord.
Angel knew she was teetering on the edge when she began to chant his name, her love, incoherently. That was it, his most favorite sound in the world, the sound of her falling apart in the most pleasurable of ways. Increasing his own pace once more, he quickly brought himself to the brink. "I want you to come with me baby, I'm almost there, I can feel it pooling inside me."
Buffy was nearly incoherent focused only on her own pleasure, she had never been very good at pleasuring herself, but this time it was different. When she heard Angel's soft moans pierce the fog of her brain, her muscles coiled as she felt herself slowly slip over that great precipice. "I'm coming, Angel, I'm coming…" she managed out before the pleasure completely consumed her. Her orgasm tearing through her with such a force, she swore she saw stars for a second.
Angel ferociously pumped his cock, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he used both hands to work himself. When he heard her gasp that she was coming, it triggered something in him, as his own orgasm rolled through him with a ferociousness he hadn't expected. His cool cum shot out in deep spurts landing across his tight abdomen, using his sheet he quickly wiped the mess off him as he waited for each of them to float back down to reality.
"Wow, that was wow," she gasped between breaths into the phone.
For the first time in months, a full smile graced his features. "Ya, it was," he managed back.
Each of them stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, simply listening to the other breath as reality slowly settled back around them. Neither wanting to speak, both knowing that goodbye was approaching. Buffy found herself wishing once again that she could freeze time, just hold them right here in this moment forever.
It was Angel who was the first to break the silence, "I love you," he told her one last time. "I told you I'd make it better," she swore she could hear that cocky grin of his through the phone.
"You did, for now…" she trailed off again not sure how to continue or what to say.
"Buffy, I'm so glad you called. I don't want you to hurt, but this ca-," interrupting him, she already knew where he was going. Tears once again filled her eyes, but this time some of heaviness behind them had dissipated. "I know, I mean I understand. I just needed, I don't know. I guess I just needed to know you were okay, I'd been so worried."
"I'm sorry, I never meant to scare you."
Sitting up in her bed, she chewed her lip between her teeth. "So I guess this is the part we have to say goodbye," she asked her voice cracking slightly.
Blowing out a deep breath, he slammed his head back against the headboard, he wasn't sure he had enough strength left to say goodbye. Not to her, never to her.
"How about I just sit on the phone until you fall asleep, it's getting late for you."
Wiping the few tears that escaped from the corner of her eyes, she nodded slowly before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Okay, I love you Angel. I'll always love you," she rushed out, trying her hardest to keep it together this time.
"I love you more, and I want you to know that even though I left so that you could move on...I never will. That's just part of the deal...I'll always be yours."
He had wanted to tell her that he was bound to her through Irish tradition and Vampiric law, but that wasn't a burden she needed to bare. It would only cause her more pain to know. In his eyes, in every way that counted she was his body, mind, and soul.
His mate, his wife, his eternal salvation.
OoOoO
They spoke for a little while longer, he made her promise him to really give this normal life thing a chance. Telling her that if she didn't, then all of this they were going through was pointless. She had sadly agreed, but in turn made him promise to contact her, not Giles if he ever needed anything… even if it was just to check up on her. Reluctantly agreeing, they spoke for a few more minutes about mundane things such as how he'd found his apartment, and what all she'd bought to decorate her dorm with Willow.
Eventually the weight of the day began to catch up to her, she couldn't believe they had been on the phone for so long, hours.
Angel listened as her breathing began to even out, then waited a while longer to ensure she had fallen asleep before finally letting his own tears fall. They were silent and heavy, soul crushing tears. He wept for what they were, what they could have been, what they never could be. He wept for her and how much pain he knew she too felt.
Eventually he brought himself to hang up the phone. She was right, there wasn't anything he could do to make this better, but there was something he could do to make it easier. For her anyways.
Grabbing his laundry bin, he dug out the t-shirts he'd worn around the apartment for the last few days, quickly folding them, he threw them into a plastic bag. As he dressed, he made sure to grab a bottle of his favorite cologne from his dresser, and toss it into the bag along with the shirts. He knew what he was about to do was a risk, but the hell with it.
OoOoO
Just over an hour later, Angel was cruising through the familiar streets of Sunnydale. Coming to Revello Drive, he made sure to park a few houses down, in case anyone happened by. Scanning the house he noted that all of the lights seemed to be out, and Joyce's car was in its usual place, parked put front.
Grabbing the bag beside him, he stealthily made his way over to that old familiar tree. Taking a moment he looked around, taking it all in one last time.
Once he made it to her window, he noticed she still slept with it open, something that had always been a silent invitation for him. The sentiment made his heart ache all over again. Peering through the half opened curtains he could make out her sleeping form, the phone was still clutched in her hand, her beauty would never cease to amaze him.
Quietly stepping over the window seal, he made his way over to where she slept, silently he dropped to his knees on the floor beside her. Her face was a mere inches from his own, there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her slightly parted lips. Instead he gently tucked a couple stray strands of hair, back to their place behind her ear.
The movement caused her to stir slightly, and when she mumbled his name, he froze unsure how he might explain himself. Though after only a few seconds he realized that she had merely said his name in her sleep. Pressing the softest possible kiss to her forehead, he promised her someday he would try to find a way.
Setting the shirts on the end table next to her, he placed his bottle of cologne next to them. Grabbing one of her notepads he scribbled a quick Always onto the first blank page, before tearing it out and placing it on the pillow next to her.
Taking one more minute to drink her in, he turned around and walked back to that same old window, knowing in his heart that this would be the last time he ever climbed out of it.
Throwing his leg over the ledge, he stepped into that old tree, making sure not to look back, knowing that if he had all of his resolve would have vanished.
Silently he made his way back to his convertible, hoping in he put it in drive, pulling out onto the highway he refused to look in the rearview the entire drive home.
Maybe he would stop in at the bar off 2nd Avenue...