Feedback: YES! Feedback and criticism (but only constructive) is not only appreciated, it's one of the things that makes writing so much fun!

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS, but I really wish I did. Angel leaving? Never would have happened.

Pairing: B/A (eventually), W/O, S/F

Summary: AU. The prequel to Werewolves of L.A. Buffy Summers is an ordinary girl, living a normal life, until her Mom gets a job as an art curator in a little town called Sunnydale. She thinks her life has come to an end. In fact, it's only just beginning…

"I thought Xander would be here by now," murmured Willow, anxiously glancing at the door.

"Hmm, that'd make him on time. We couldn't have that," said Buffy, picking at her croissant. "You know, I think this was a bad idea. I'm gonna go back to the hospital..."

"No," said Willow. "Remember, we said this was going to be your break?" She smiled sympathetically. "You're at Owen's side every moment you can spare. We've hardly seen you for weeks and you need some time for yourself."

Buffy nodded and continued to shred her croissant. Willow fidgeted in her seat.

"Did you hear Principal Flutie got eaten today? Sorry, that's probably not helping is it and now I'm babbling so I'm gonna shut up now, sorry."

Buffy laughed softly. "Will, it's okay, I'm not gonna suddenly break down on you." She took a sip of coke. "Giles mentioned something about hyena spirits when he came to see me..."

Willow nodded. "Yeah, he's not happy. He's going with Spike and Angel to see the zookeeper. He doesn't like other packs coming onto his territory, even if they are spirits, and especially when they eat the principal."

"Oh." Buffy nodded. "Right. Well it shouldn't be too hard to find a new principal. Unless they ask what happened to the last one."

There was an awkward pause and Willow glanced at her watch again. Buffy laughed. "He's not going to get here quicker if you look at the time every three seconds."

The redhead blushed. "Sorry. He makes my head go tingly. You know what I mean?"

Buffy's smile faded. "I dimly recall."

"Sorry," said Willow again. "I just seem to keep putting my foot in it."

"No," said Buffy. "You shouldn't have to keep apologising round me. I'll be okay. Just treat me like normal." Buffy flicked a bit of croissant off the table and watched it fall to the ground. "Angel came to visit at the hospital today."

"Is that why you're wearing his leather jacket right now?"

"Goes with the shoes."

Willow prodded her. "Come on, Angel pushes your buttons. You know he does."

"I suppose some girls might find him good looking...if they have eyes, alright, he's a honey, but...there's the whole werewolf thing – no offence Will- but it complicates things...and now with Owen...I...I just can't have a relationship..."

Willow nodded morosely and then perked up suddenly. "There he is!"

"Angel?"

"Xander!"

The boy in question smiled apologetically and sank down gratefully into a chair. "Sorry I'm late," he said. "Giles collared me after class to research animal possession. Do you know how many freaky books the man possesses?" Xander yawned. "Hyena's are definitely the shmoes of the animal kingdom." He glanced around him. "I haven't missed too much of the fumigation party have I?"

"Hmm?" Said Buffy, who'd been stirring the ice round in her coke with her straw.

"The closing of the Bronze for a few days to nuke the cockroaches?" Said Willow.

"Oh."

Willow shared a look with Xander. "It's a lot of fun...what's it like where you are?"

Buffy looked up and smiled. "I'm... sorry, I was just thinking about things..."

"Whoa, well, let's stop this crazy whirligig of fun! I'm dizzy!" Xander waved his arms in the air comically.

"Alright, now I'm infecting those nearest and dear to me. I'm gonna call it a night." Buffy got up from the table.

"Don't go," said Xander. "It's early...we could dance."

"Rain check?" Said Buffy, apologetically. "Good night."

She could only hear the click of her heels as she walked home; the streets were deserted and she wrapped Angel's leather jacket tighter round her. She tried not to focus too much on the lingering scent of him that still permeated the jacket- an intoxicating mix of forests and wolf and something purely masculine, purely Angel.

But the image of Owen, hooked up to so many tubes came into her mind and the guilt once again swallowed her up. If only they hadn't gone out that night, if only Owen hadn't been so excited about the danger, if only that car hadn't come...

There was a slight noise from behind her. She tried to remain calm and remember anything from the self defence lessons she'd had in L.A. She curled her hands tighter round her bag and quickened her step.

The noise became louder. She swallowed, her pace picking up even more. Footsteps now sounded behind her. Should she confront her stalker? She shivered. Owen's accident had made her more twitchy, more cautious. She didn't want to end up in a hospital bed next to him, or worse...She tried to think through her steadily growing panic and remember how far away her house was. Surely she was nearly there? Could she outrun him?

A hand touched her shoulder.

She swung her fist round to connect solidly with a jaw. Her fingers throbbed, her hand felt like it was on fire- was hitting someone meant to hurt this much? And then she realised who she'd hit.

"Oh! Angel, I'm so sorry." She glanced down at her fingers. "No wonder it hurt so much," she muttered to herself. "Stupid, super strong werewolf bones."

Angel, on the other hand, didn't seem that hurt, as he rubbed his jaw and smirked."You hit like a girl."

Buffy pouted. "Thanks for noticing Mr Obvious." She crossed her arms. "And hey! I do not hit like a girl, thank you very much. I broke Amy's Mom's nose, or did you forget?" She snickered. "Oh yeah, that's right I'd forgotten, you were unconscious."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Do you always have to bring that up when we fight?"

She raised an eyebrow. "If you think this is a fight, no wonder you didn't last long. Come on," she said grabbing his hand. "Despite what you say, it's got to hurt. I'll get you some ice for that."

Angel bit his tongue and nodded, content to let her forget that his healing would have it sorted in the next five minutes.

"Why were you following me, anyway?" She asked as they carried on walking. "Did you want your jacket back?"

She'd already taken one arm out when Angel's hand stopped her, his fingers closing over hers, heat flaring where their skin touched.

"Keep it, it looks better on you."

"Oh." She slipped back into it and swallowed.

"So. You didn't answer my question."

Angel smiled. "I was just out walking."

"You weren't following me? And it wouldn't be the first time either." She looked at him pointedly. "It's almost becoming a habit." She fished for her keys as they reached her porch.

"Why would I do that?"

"You tell me." She smiled coyly. "Come in." She closed the door after him and then headed into the kitchen. "I'll just grab some ice so make yourself comfortable."

Angel looked around the living room. They had a nice house, he had to admit. Deciding to be nosy he was scanning the titles of Joyce's collection of art books when several pictures on the mantelpiece caught his eye. One was of Buffy when she was very little, ice-skating, wrapped up in a pink coat and gloves, concentrating on not falling over, and still managing to look adorable. There was a formal portrait picture of Buffy and her Mom that had clearly been taken recently, but it was the photo to the left of it that intrigued him most.

The gold frame held Buffy in her early teens and an older boy, his arm wrapped round her protectively. He had dark hair and eyes and a smile that looked as though he could charm anything out of anyone.

"That's my brother," said Buffy as she stood in the doorway.

"Sorry," said Angel hurriedly putting the frame back in its place, "I didn't mean to pry I was just..."

"It's okay," said Buffy. "His name's Doyle. He lives with his Mom in L.A."

"His Mom?"

"Yeah," said Buffy putting the ice on the table. "Doyle's technically my half-brother. Dad was seeing Doyle's Mom- Alice I think her name was- pretty heavily before he met my Mom. He got her pregnant and then met my Mom and dropped Alice like a ton of bricks. Mom didn't know anything about it until she showed up asking for child support."

She smiled at the photo. "I hated Doyle before I met him, I couldn't believe my Dad could have loved anyone else but my Mom. And then I ended up going to the same school he was at and we were forced into the same social circles and parties, and after I got over it I found I really liked him." She sighed. "And now with the divorce and everything, Doyle's the one person I know who understands. After all, Dad abandoned them first, and now he's done it to us." She laughed bitterly. "My Dad's not good at commitment."

She motioned for Angel to sit down and wrapped the ice in a towel, gently pressing it against his jaw. He hissed.

"Sorry."

"So you're close huh?"

She nodded. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

Angel swallowed down the twinge of jealousy at their close relationship."Does he know about Owen?" He could have bitten his tongue out but the words were already spoken.

Buffy's expression closed off. "Yes. But he doesn't know about the werewolves, if that's what you're asking. Your secrets are still safe."

"I didn't mean it like that," said Angel in frustration. "I..."

The key turned in the lock of the front door.

"Buffy?"

"We're in the livingroom Mom," called Buffy, pressing the icepack closer to his jaw. He winced as the cold seeped into his cheek.

"Buffy I...oh, hello."

Angel nodded sheepishly at the woman standing in the doorway. "Hi."

Buffy fidgeted. " Oh! Okay... Um... Angel, uh, this is my mom. Mom, this is Angel. We ran into each other on the way home." Joyce raised an eyebrow. "Er... Angel ran into a lamppost."

Angel shot Buffy a look and then smiled pleasantly at Joyce. "Yes, I do that a lot. I'm very clumsy. You might say I was known for it."

Joyce nodded, disbelievingly. "Right."

"Angel's been helping me with my history, you know I've been toiling there." Buffy swallowed. "It was quite a coincidence that we ran into each other."

"Yes," said Angel, his sarcasm bubbling under his genial tone. "If I hadn't run into that lamppost I would never have ended up here."

Joyce's lips quirked at the blatant lies but she held her peace. She glanced at the living room clock pointedly. "It's a little late for tutoring. I'm gonna go to bed, and, Buffy?" She turned to leave the room.

Her daughter plastered on a big fake smile. "I'll say good night and do the same!"

Joyce nodded and then looked over at Angel. "It was nice to meet you. But I'd be more careful where you walk next time."

Angel nodded. "I will do."

As soon as Joyce was upstairs and safely tucked up in bed, her heartbeat and breathing deep in the rhythms of sleep Angel turned to Buffy.

"A lamppost?" He said, clearly unimpressed. "Do you think you're Mom's that gullible?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and took away the ice. Angel's cheek had already lost its dark coloured bruising and even now they were fading and vanishing.

"Well, what did you want me to say? Hi Mom, Angel got punched by me because he was stalking me and I thought he was a vampire, oh and hey those really do exist?"

He glared at her. "No, but you could have made me sound less of a klutz."

She snickered. "I think she figured that one out for herself."

He grabbed her playfully. "Hey! I am not a klutz."

"Right." She had to crane her head up to look at him and suddenly she realised how close they were. Apprehension filled her and she broke away from the embrace, sweeping her hair in front of her face and going to stand by the living room window. Her back towards him she tried to reign in her warring emotions.

Angel sighed. "Look Buffy..."

She cut him off. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I really can't be around you. Because when I am..."

Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Right."

"…all I can ever think about is how badly I want to kiss you."

"What?"

Buffy let out a breath. "We can never be anything…Owen's seriously hurt in hospital and here I am wanting to kiss you…what does that make me?" Angel crossed the room and lifted her chin. Their eyes met.

"It makes you human."

And then he kissed her. It was soft and gentle, just the brief pressure of his lips on hers, the reassuring comfort of him, the solid familiarity. Owen lying comatose in his hospital bed, cocooned in a nest of wires and machines made her pull back.

"I'm sorry."

Angel nodded. "I understand." He kissed her temple and then left.

Only when the door was shut did she let herself cry.

One week later...

Buffy scratched her head and stared at the algebra blankly. "Who decided to put letters into maths? It was bad enough with the numbers but why add 3x squared to 15a- over 7ax?" She shook her head. "This is sooo unfair."

She was contemplating phoning Willow for serious emergency help when her Mom popped her head round the door.

"Buffy."

There was a particular tone in her voice that Buffy had only heard once before, and that was when she'd had to tell her that her parents were getting a divorce. The voice that meant whatever she was going to tell her was very, very bad.

"Mom?"

"The hospital just called."

Buffy fidgeted nervously. "And?"

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Buffy's face drained of all colour.

"He's gone isn't he?" She sank down onto her bed and buried her head in her hands.

Joyce hurried over to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. "The nurse said it was very peaceful, he just sort of, slipped away." Her daughter sobbed into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. But they're very sure he didn't feel any pain. He was just sleeping."

"But he's never gonna wake up now is he?" Buffy choked, hardly able to get her words out in between her tears. "Owen, I'm so sorry."

"Shush, sweetheart. It wasn't your fault, there was nothing you could do."

Buffy nodded and let herself be rocked by her mother, but inside her heart felt like it had sunk down into her stomach. She hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye.

The first few hours had been the hardest, her mind unable to settle on anything but Owen's face before he'd been hit, and then afterwards in the hospital. She felt constantly sick and tired, and her eyes were red and blotchy from constantly crying. Now, several days later all she felt was empty, like she'd been drained dry of everything. Now everything was an effort, even breathing, the push pull movement of her lungs, the effort to stay alive. All she wanted to do was curl up in a dark corner and never come out.

Her friends had come round but had left soon after, not knowing what to say and not getting much response from Buffy who'd just looked at them vacantly. Their phrases of consolation, though meant well, meant nothing to her.

Several days later, when nothing had changed, Joyce decided to call Giles. She knew Buffy trusted the librarian and had spoken of him often, and warmly.

When he knocked she ushered him into the living room. "She's sleeping," she said quietly, glancing up at the ceiling, as though she could see her daughter through the plaster.

"There's nothing else I need to know about the accident is there Mr Giles?" She sighed. "Buffy's really upset and that's completely understandable. But it's as though there's something weighing on her. Some sort of guilt."

"Grieving people always feel guilty, survivors guilt, but it's just a natural part of the process. In time Buffy will move on," offered Giles.

"I know that," said Joyce rubbing her temples. "But it's more than that." She leant forwards confidentially. "Sometimes she has nightmares. And..." she swallowed. "She wakes up screaming. I've never heard anything like it. Buffy won't talk to me about it." She pressed his hands pleadingly. "Will you talk to her about it? I know she confides in you."

Giles nodded. "Of course, Mrs Summers."

"Joyce, please."

"Joyce. I'll speak to Buffy about it tomorrow; that is if she's in school?"

"Yes, she says she's got to make an appearance sometime." She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you ever so much. I don't know what Buffy would do without you."

Giles smiled uncomfortably.

She'd probably be better off. She wouldn't wake up screaming each night from watching her boyfriend be hit by car. She wouldn't be terrified of being killed by vampires, or associating with werewolves. She would be blissfully ignorant of all the creatures of the night. She would be safe, like you.

"Neither do I," was all he said.

The day of the funeral rolled round and Buffy had finally pulled herself out of her grief enough to function properly. After Giles had spoken to her ( the conversation was blurred and fuzzy in her head but she knew it had involved a lot of crying and Giles' soothing voice speaking to her gently and holding her close) she'd gradually managed to get herself under control.

She'd spent all of her tears, thrown all her breakable items in her room and then cried some more when she couldn't piece them together. She'd shouted at all her friends who'd come round and her Mom, and then after apologising and breathing, being calm and alone, she'd finally found some sense of peace.

It was a hollow, cold sort of feeling, but for the moment it was enough.

She waited until everyone had left the grounds before she finally went to see his grave. She stared at the marble until it blurred and then she blinked. A familiar presence came and stood next to her.

"It's kinda ironic," she muttered, shrinking deeper into her jacket. "Owen, I mean. He was so excited about the vampires, about you." She couldn't bear to look at Angel, and her voice was raw and painful.

"And he didn't think of the danger. He could have been so easily injured. The things that go bump in the night." She laughed but there was no humour in her voice. "And in the end it was a car. A hit and run. Just one human killing another."

Angel's thumb wiped away a tear she hadn't even realised was trickling down her face.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Buffy took a shuddering breath and nodded. "I know."

She reached for his hand blindly as she traced the letters engraved into the headstone with her eyes. The dates of Owen's life were so short. Final. The poem written on there, his favourite by Emily Dickenson.

Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me

The carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality.

She sighed and squeezed Angel's hand. It was time to go.

"Take me home?"

"Sure."

Weeks later on the way home from school she found herself unconsciously tracing out the route to his grave. She'd been back several times since, but never on her own, and she suddenly found that had a lot she needed to tell him. She knelt down at the grave stone.

"Hey." She tidied the flowers in the little vase and leant back on her heels.

"I guess I wanted to say thank you." She began to fiddle with a lily. "I know that sounds strange, me talking to you, saying thanks, but I mean it. I'd forgotten what it was like to be a normal girl, without all the supernatural stuff. I'd begun to think that the only excitement I could have was being with the monsters, fighting with Kendra and the wolves." She paused. "Being with Angel."

She put the lily back in its place.

"And then I met you and for once it was okay to be normal. And I know you were into the whole supernatural stuff, you should have seen your expression when you found out about it..."

She sighed.

"But you know what? That night, I had the most fun when I was just being a girl, and you were just being a boy and we were dancing. Being normal." She stood up.

"So I guess what I'm trying to say, in a really awkward way is thanks. For reminding me it's okay to be normal, and that there's plenty of danger in the human world." She frowned and grazed the headstone with her fingertips.

"Sometimes too much."

Well, that's it folks, hope you liked the installment, don't worry there'll be more fun and fighting and romance and tension in the next chapter. If you liked it please review, if you didn't let me know why and what I can change and give me some feedback. It's all welcome and loved and treasured, like the last piece of chocolate in a bar.

Give me your last rolo and review! :D