Dawn was out with a friend (either Janice or Tim, Buffy couldn't remember who) and Giles was out meeting someone or doing whatever it was that Giles did whenever they weren't around to annoy him, so Buffy and Angel had the house to themselves to … talk. Well, it wasn't like they could do anything inappropriate anyway, what with the curse being what it was. 'I really need to get that looked at.' Buffy considered it only as a minor problem in the background, lying on top of her boyfriend. Although she was now fully dressed, and the two were downstairs on the sofa, the positions from about an hour ago hadn't really changed much.
They were no longer making out on her bed, yes, but really, what does a bed do that a sofa can't? Sometimes, you can even have a more comfortable sofa to sleep on than the actual bed, and if anyone – say Dawn, for example – were to charge in, they would have an alibi of a poetry book sitting innocently on the table.
Not everyone, but certainly Dawn, knew how much Buffy loved to be read to – it didn't matter what it was, what language or whom was reading (obviously though Angel was the best reader by far) – Buffy just loved to be read to. It wasn't so much the actual reading, rather the quite murmuring of someone she loved, not talking at her, to her or about her. Just talking. Her father used to read to her when she was little, it could be anything, and she would listen – she learned to read before school started because of it.
She would never let Giles know, but a book was the one place she could be herself, just Buffy. In reading a book, the slayer became lost in the pages, and only Buffy, the smart, funny, popular girl she had once been, would remain. She used to read anything and everything, but since finding out her sacred duty, Buffy had left the fantasy/horror types alone – they were too much like real life for her liking. She hadn't read nearly as much since going to Sunnydale – when had she had the time? And schoolwork – well it wasn't like it really mattered in the end, was it?
Most slayers died before their 18th birthday, many others before their 19th. None had lived to see 20. As it was she was one of the oldest slayers on record – slaying for nearly four years. Most girls lasted two, at a maximum, four. Buffy didn't know how long she counted for – until her first death or … well her second. If she was only the real slayer until Kendra was called, then she had only really lasted for one and a half years. If not, she was nearly at four. Come to think of it, what did Faith count as? She went evil – is she still a slayer, even in a coma and on the wrong side…
Faith. Now there's a person she hadn't thought of in a while, 'and one to get back to at some point when I'm not on top of Angel' she thought. 'Now there's a wide range of thoughts', again, thinking far too much given the activity she was involved in.
They had caught up with each other, and planned to spend as long as possible just being together. If interrupted by any of Buffy's friends, they would then head to the bronze, Giles meant patrol, and Dawn … well she was only a minor set back. An excuse of patrol would work, followed by a trip to the mansion.
Angel told her all about the demon after Doyle (the favour for getting Cordy somewhere to live was now repaid), a stalker who could literally fall a part on you, the case he had just cleared up involving some police people (something to do with the woman he met earlier in LA and a pogo stick that made you cry. She didn't want to know anything more than that) as well as many other escapades, routine but still interesting … sort of. There was a slime demon living in some old lady's toilet and a ritual sacrifice just in the last month. It was just sad that as much business as they had had, Angel Investigations just wasn't getting enough paid jobs. Working for TPTB was all very well, but it just didn't pay the bills.
In return, Buffy rambled on about the goings on in Sunnydale, her thoughts for the future with collage and Dawn, and just general Buffyisms. Since the whole Oz thing nothing major had happened, normal vamps, a few wandering demons and some strange sightings of commando guys, but for Sunnydale, everything was normal and going well.
That afternoon had been spent doing all the things a normal couple their-her age should have been able to do – talk about everything and nothing. They had done all the things they would have done before her seventeenth birthday; talked, kissed, snuggled. For the first time since Angel had come back into her life, she didn't think about the curse on her boyfriend and what it prevented. They had a tough road, but the potholes were beginning to repair themselves.