So, now I'm back from final exams (I totally got all A's, by the way) and a time-consuming "Season 9" episode and Writer's Block and family Christmas stuff. I really had no idea what to do with "Earshot", but then I remembered the part where Buffy and Angel run into each other on the sidewalk and decided to play with it. Bwaha. Enjoy!

Buffy was utterly miserable. In fact, it was the first time she had been this unhappy since Angel had returned. She felt like a coward, unable to face the man she loved because she was letting her fears get the better of her. The four wonderful gifts he had given her since they met had been her only sources of consolation (which more often than not merely served to remind her of times before things had gotten so screwed up, rather than providing any actual consolation). She wished desperately for the courage to go to him, and she knew she couldn't keep avoiding him forever, but how was she supposed to approach him?

And if only that was the last of her concerns. To a smaller, though still significant, degree, she had also spent much of that day fretting over what would happen to her as a result of the demonic "infection" she had managed to contract in the process of killing those freaky mouthless demons the night before. No, she corrected herself gloomily, she had only killed one of the demons. The other one got away. So now she was a crappy Slayer on top of being an abandoned friend who got to miss out on highly anticipated basketball games, a pathetic excuse for a girlfriend, and a possible aspect-of-the-demon-having freak-person. With a strong feeling of apprehension, she pulled out her compact and opened it to search her reflection for evidence of any manifesting demon-y traits. There weren't any. Somehow, she wasn't very relieved. It just meant more torturous waiting and uncertainty. Fun.

[o]

Angel hadn't wanted to leave his apartment, but he'd gotten tired of Wesley's attempts to force him out of it. Maybe the Englishman would visit again while he was out and be satisfied enough to let him brood in peace for a few more days. Not that the idea was exactly appealing. It had already been a week since the last time he saw Buffy, and he was beginning to despair that irreparable damage must have been done by their charade if she couldn't bear to be around him for this long. He looked down at the Claddagh ring he wore, which she had so recently given him. How ironic it was, he mused dully, that things had taken such a sharp turn for the worse both when he first put his ring on her finger, with his losing his soul mere hours later, and when she returned the gesture, with his being forced to pretend having lost his soul all over again. In his time, such an exchange of rings would have been the equivalent of marital vows (not, he thought bitterly, that he would have been likely to make any commitment that confining back then, considering what a shameless lecher he had been), but now, when nothing would make him happier than to exchange those vows with Buffy, the rings seemed to only have been an omen of doom. But, no, he was being ridiculous. When he was still entombed in the Council's dungeons, Buffy's ring had been an enormous (if bittersweet) comfort to him, and they had shared so much happiness ever since it had gone back on her finger that the comparison could not stand. No, the rings themselves were not cursed. It was their circumstances that were—and always had been, even though his literal curse was no longer a hindrance.

It wasn't until he became aware of the scent he'd apparently been following that he pulled himself out of his thoughts. By then, however, it was too late. His feet had already carried him within feet of none other than Buffy, and even though she didn't seem to have noticed him yet, he'd be a coward to run away now. Besides, he didn't think he could force himself to move any direction that wasn't towards her even if he tried.

If the uncharacteristic droop to her shoulders was any indication, it didn't look like her week had been any better than his. All that observation did for him was make him wish he could be sure she would welcome it if he wrapped his arms around her. As he watched, she pulled out a small mirror and, after a couple of seconds of checking her reflection in it, said with feeble enthusiasm, "Well, still got a mouth." He had no idea what that was about, but didn't have much time to think about it before she lowered the mirror and turned around. She jumped upon catching sight of him, and he repressed a wince when he heard her heart rate quicken without any of the usual accompanying signs to indicate that it meant she was happy to see him. That she was wearing both the ring and the necklace he'd given her helped a little, though.

"Angel," she said automatically.

"Sorry," he said, looking down.

"No," she said, taking a step towards him, her tone slightly desperate. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have avoided you like that. I've hated not seeing you, and the whole time I was just letting everything fester in my head and I could have just talked to you and I can't even sleep and—"

"I just meant—sorry for making you jump," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Oh," she said. Her cheeks reddened. "Well, uh…."

"But I am—sorry, I mean," he added quickly and awkwardly, "for…." He swallowed, thinking for about the millionth time about everything that had happened during those hours he had spent pretending to be soulless. A whole week thinking of little else and now he didn't know what to say. "I wish there'd been another way to find out what was going on."

"So do I."

"I've missed you," he said softly. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. He looked away. "And it's good to know you're safe. I wanted to give you time like you asked, however much of it you needed, but I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and then you were right here…." He trailed off feebly, inwardly marveling that he seemed to be just as susceptible to babbling tonight as she was.

"I've missed you too," she said.

He smiled and stepped tentatively closer. "How've you been?" he asked.

She shrugged. As much as she wanted to, she didn't really feel like it would be fair to list off all of her problems to him after a week of zero contact that had been her doing. But he seemed to know what she was thinking, and he wouldn't have any of it. He stepped even closer until he was barely a foot away, then slowly reached a hand up to the side of her face. Her eyes fell closed and she leaned into his touch. "You can tell me anything, Buffy," he said.

So she did. As they walked slowly down the street together, hand in hand, with no particular destination in mind, she told him about feeling left out by all of her friends, about the demon that got away, and about what had supposedly happened to her when she killed the other one.

"Aspect of the demon," he said, nodding.

"You now the drill...," she said glumly.

"By rumor," he said, "but that doesn't mean anything. Sometimes demons exaggerate their power."

"Demon-hype," said Buffy, allowing herself some amusement at the thought for a couple of seconds. "Or maybe not. But, hey, I spend all my time here in the dark anyway. It's not like I'd be at a game or out with friends or something where people could see me and my new monster-part."

Angel stopped walking, forcing her to stop too and look at him. "I won't let anything hurt you if I can help it," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "And no matter what happens, I'll be with you. I'll love you even if you're covered with slime."

Buffy smiled unwillingly at his words, but started walking again and changed the subject. "I'm glad you found me out here. I've been wanting to come see you since practically the second I left, but I let everything that happened get in the way." She sighed. "Yet another thing to go on the 'Ways in which Buffy's Being Stupid' list."

"It wasn't stupid," said Angel quietly. She looked at him. "What happened with Faith was hard. It doesn't make you stupid or weak if it gets to you."

"Doesn't make me feel better about avoiding you for so long," she said. "I know you only did what you had to do, but I've been punishing you for it."

"Would it help if I told you I hated every second of kissing Faith and watching you suffer?"

She smiled again. "It would."

They lapsed into a companionable silence, and eventually ended up in front of Buffy's house, not having met any demons (or Slayers gone bad) on the way. Buffy let go of his hand, but instead of walking up to the house, turned to him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. He hugged her back, and in the long moment during which they stood there without moving, they both felt what remained of the rift between them heal.

"So," said Buffy when she pulled away. "I'll see you soon?" Her expression was hopeful.

"Yeah," he said. She smiled her brightest smile yet and started to walk towards the house, but turned back when he added, "Oh, and if you see Wes, tell him we talked."

She raised her eyebrows, looking amused.

"He's been threatening to break down my door if I didn't get out soon, and I think he might actually do it the next time he comes over to yell at me."

She had to suppress a giggle at the ridiculous mental image of Wesley trying to break down a door. Even in her mind, she couldn't see him succeeding. All he managed was to nearly dislocate his shoulder. "I'll pass it on," she said.

[o]

Buffy didn't know how she would have gotten through the next few days if it hadn't been for her accidental encounter with Angel. Her aspect of the demon turned out to be telepathy, which was entertaining at first, but soon became almost unbearable, as if her mind was being invaded and attacked from all sides. At least it enabled her to prevent a suicide and a mass murder by rat poison-flavored Jell-O, but it also meant that she learned a little too much about Xander's inner thoughts and what had really happened between her mother and Giles during the band candy incident.

So yeah, obviously my Buffy is less bitter about the Faith thing and more ashamed about the avoiding Angel thing than canon Buffy (who I think was being ridiculous and PMS-y about all of it). Her and Angel clearing the air with the accidental sidewalk encounter makes it unnecessary to write about the later encounter, which wouldn't have been as critical (particularly if Buffy didn't feel like she needed to read his mind to find out about his feelings or lack thereof for Faith). Anyway, hope you all had a lovely Christmas, and that you'll have a great New Year's Eve (without getting too crazy, I mean). Oh, and this chapter's title comes from what Buffy found out about Joyce and Giles. Also, I think my favorite part of canon in, like, the entire series, was when Giles bonked into that tree at the end of the episode. *giggles madly*