Only one review… sob

So, I added the first chapter almost a year ago and didn't update. That was mean of me, I'm sorry. If you reviewed it last year, thank you so, incredibly, very much, and I hope you're still reading.

Here goes.

Chapter Two: grace

Buffy was terrified. She was a freak, something unnatural. She had always been suspicious of anything not-normal, from the weirder kids at school to the crazy people that lurked at train stations when it got dark. The power that she felt was strong and unfamiliar, ice-cold and rock-hard. It was strange and it frightened her more than anything in the world.

And yet she felt excited, purposeful. She had no idea what that thing that attacked her had been, but killing it had felt so right. Stepping into her house almost silently, her heart was still beating double-time against her ribs. Her hand, clasped around the Macy's bag – the only thing that seemed to link her with normality – was still smeared with blood.

She rushed into the bathroom, nervously scrubbing her hands. The water ran red under her hands, blood slipping away, mixed with almond-scented soap. It foamed pinkish as it slid down the basin, lost. It was comforting, like watching her worries float away. Her hands were clean now; she wiped them on a towel and left no stain at all. There was no evidence of what had happened, no clue to say what had happened. She clenched her spotless hands, knowing the power that they could wield. She felt energised, powerful… invincible.

Buffy Summers didn't need to run for the bus the next day. She climbed the steps with a new aura around her, a predatory feel that hovered and crackled and burned. The other passengers noticed, felt it as she brushed past. It wasn't quite physical, just a feeling, something raw and primal. It felt unreasonable – this was Buffy, popular girl extraordinaire. Scary, yes, but human. But now her eyes were quick and sharp and she moved with liquid grace. Like a panther in the jungle. The muscles in her legs – toned from years of ice-skating – seemed more pronounced. She looked stronger, older somehow, more in tune with her body. But of course, these were only human children. They saw her for a moment, admired and envied her, and thought of other things.

But there was stirring now, deep below the ground. Lower beings burrowed deeper, slunk into the shadows and growled. As the school bus rolled over the ground, a wind was picking up. But no one on the bus felt it, including Buffy, sitting in the same seat that she always sat in; surrounded by the people she called her friends.

School was just another day, in most respects. The lessons dragged painfully and lunch was an empty hour over in a moment. Buffy was normal, so normal. She had learnt how to pretend, and this was just more of the same. Still, her mind buzzed with thoughts.

The sun had just set as she wandered home from cheerleading practice. Purple clouds were drifting across the steadily-darkening sky. Apart from a whining dog chained to a fence on the opposite side of the street, she was completely alone, and her mask was dropped. Her face was set in a frown, as she kicked a can absent-mindedly down the street. She began to organise her thoughts, going over the worries which had plagued her all day.

This shouldn't have happened. Why me? Why isn't anyone telling me what to do? Something's missing, something important. I need someone, someone who knows what's happening to me.

As though her prayer was being answered, she heard faint footsteps behind her. Pausing, her breath catching slightly and her heart thumping in her chest, she turned. She was now looking into the face of – quite possibly – the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"I… I.. um…" She paused, gulping. He looked in his twenties – far older than she, at only 15, was used to. He was very pale, which seemed to make his dark eyes and perfect cheekbones stand out even more obviously. She made an attempt at bravado, hands on her hips, trying to quickly replace her mask. "Were you following me?"

"What would you say if I was?" His voice was more human than she expected, if slightly cold. "I know who you are," he continued, a slight smile playing around his lips.

"So, what, you're like… some stalker?" She was scared now, but at the same time almost intrigued. And she knew she was strong now, she could take him if she tried anything. Not that I'd mind, she thought with a nervous internal giggle.

"And I know what you are." His voice was purposeful now, his eyes boring into her. She dropped her guard, staring at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

"You… you do? How? Tell me!" She moved closer now, taken over by curiosity. "Please, please tell me what's happening to me!" He laughed, not kindly but not in a particularly unpleasant way. It was a nice sound, and yet it made the hairs on the back of Buffy's neck stand up.

"I'll tell you everything you need to know." He paused. "Eventually." She made a frustrated noise, which didn't seem to affect him at all. "Meet me tomorrow," he continued, moving slightly closer to her as though sharing a secret, "here. Right here. I can teach you how to use it."

"Use what?" She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she wanted to keep talking, something about his presence was comforting, if disconcerting at the same time.

"Your power. You feel it right now. You killed yesterday." A cold feeling rushed down Buffy's spine, and she knew it showed on her face, but instead of grabbing her arm and marching her to the Police Station, he smiled. "Your style could be improved."

"I… um.. ok." She didn't continue, now completely lost for words. In less than a heartbeat, she realised he was now very close to her, holding her shoulder with his hand. She raised her own hand to his shoulder, but before she could decide to either push him away or pull him closer, he whispered in her ear.

"It was nice to meet you, Buffy. And by the way, my name is Angel." And she was let go, as though she was spinning. She wanted him back, holding her. It had felt… safe.

He turned away, a faint and knowing smile on his face. He walked with a predatory grace, the kind she herself now unknowingly possessed, and faded into the night.

END

I know it's short, I'm very sorry. The next one will be longer, I promise. And juicier. And if you're wondering why it's 'Angel' not 'Angelus' it's because... Angel sounds cooler. Pretty much. He's movin' with the times.

Questions, comments, suggestions: all are welcome. I live for reviews. Seriously.