Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Buffy lazily reached over and hit her alarm clock. She didn't even pick her head up from Angel's chest.

"You need to get up, Buffy," Angel whispered.

"I don't want to get up. Your chest is too comfortable."

Angel responded by sitting up in bed.

"Hey!"

"You need to get to school."

"Right."

Buffy slowly got out of bed, and walked right into the shower. It was one of the few luxuries Angel's apartment had. When she had first moved in, all he had had was soap, shampoo, and hair gel. But last weekend, Buffy, Willow, and Xander had snuck into her old house while Joyce and Ted were out, and Buffy had retrieved her toiletries.

Buffy stepped out of the shower, toweled herself off, and then opened her dresser. This was the "big haul" as Xander had called it. Rather than just taking her clothes, Buffy had taken her entire dresser from her room. It was now sitting next to the washing machine. Rather odd, but it was a piece of home. It also had the only large mirror Buffy could get her hands on – Angel had no use for one. On top were her various personal effects – a framed picture of herself ice-skating, Mr. Gordo, a jewelry box.

She stood before the mirror to apply her makeup. She had used to have a bunch of photos taped to it, mostly featuring her parents. But those photos were gone – kept in a small drawer. All that remained were a few of herself with Willow and Xander. Angel was completely absent. Buffy was planning on rectifying that.

Buffy sat down at the table for breakfast. The one thing she hated the most about living with Angel was his lack of a proper kitchen. He had no oven, no stove, no microwave, not even a toaster – just a refrigerator for blood. Breakfast for the last month – in fact, it was one month, to the day, since she had moved in with Angel – had consisted of cereal. Angel joined her, drinking his usual cup of blood. It was one of the things that disturbed Buffy, but she was willing to overlook it.

Classes were the usual. Science was boring beyond words – Dr. Jones, the science teacher who had replaced Dr. Gregory, was up there with your average Watcher. History was better – Mr. Miller was generally regarded as both easygoing and enthusiastic. Also, Buffy was actually proud of her report on the Irish Potato Famine – Angel had helped with that. Not only had he and Darla had spent some time in Ireland during the famine, but Angel had closely read the newspapers covering it (mostly for entertainment). There were certainly advantages to having a 200-year-old fiancé.

As Buffy walked towards her English class – usually almost as boring as science – she continued to think about Angel. Her reverie was broken by Cordelia tapping her on the shoulder.

"Buffy, Giles wants you in the library. Something about a bunch of murders."

"Thanks. Give me the Cliff Notes later?"

"No problem."

Buffy turned around and headed to the library. She found Giles poring over the Sunnydale Press.

"Giles?" she knocked on the door.

"Ah." Giles got out of his chair and turned around. "There you are."

"Cordelia sent me. She mentioned murders?"

"Yes." He pointed to the headline, which she read aloud: "'Veteran police officer murdered in home'." She set the paper down. "Doesn't strike me as monster-related, necessarily. Definitely not vampires."

"The police believe it was gang-related." Giles started pacing. "But it doesn't quite fit. The man was stabbed to death, so the murderer obviously entered his house. But no valuables were taken. And there's this."

Giles turned the paper to the third page.

"Two other murders – an old man and a doctor. Same M.O., same lack of stolen valuables."

"Any ideas?"

"None right now. I'll – I'll do some research for now. But I'd like you to look out for anything on your patrol tonight."

"Got it."

Buffy arrived home shortly after sunset. Angel was there to greet his fiancée.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey." They kissed briefly. The first time she had come home after a normal day, they had made out for thirty minutes. But now things were mellowing out – not that Angel really minded.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Normal." Buffy set her bag down by the table. "There's been a rash of knife killings recently – Giles thinks there might be a cult in town." She opened the refrigerator.

"Angel? We're out of food."

"We are?" Angel came over. It was indeed empty, apart from half a dozen packets of blood hanging from a rack, and a carton of milk in the door.

"Well, maybe you should get some food yourself," Angel said, in a fairly condescending tone. "You're the one making money."

"You've got that bank account!" Buffy replied. "You've been able to buy blood for a year, you couldn't buy your fiancée anything?"

"Buffy, you need to learn to take care of yourself. I am not your mother, it is not my job to coddle you, and you need to grow up!"

"Ugh!" Buffy threw her hands in the air in frustration.

"Besides," Angel lowered his voice slightly, "there's still milk." He eyed the counter where a box of raisin bran was sitting. "And there's raisin bran. You could have cereal."

"Angel, I have had cereal for breakfast every single day for the past month!" Buffy shouted. She reached into the refrigerator, and pulled out four of the packets of blood. Before Angel could stop her, she had ripped them open over the sink. He watched as two days worth of blood went down the drain.

Angel simply stood there in shock as Buffy stormed out.

The minute Buffy stepped outside, she started crying.

It felt horrible, fighting with Angel. She loved him. For months, she had wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. But for a moment there, she wanted nothing to do with him. She hadn't physically attacked him, but by destroying the blood, she had hurt him. And she felt ashamed.

The door opened, and Angel came out. "Buffy…" he started.

"Angel." Buffy rushed into his arms. "Angel, I'm so sorry."

"It's OK," he assured her.

"No, it's not OK."

"It was just a fight. It wasn't even our first."

That was true, Buffy had to admit. Before she and Angel had started dating, there had been multiple fights.

They stood apart, hands on each other's shoulders.

"I'll get you some blood on the way home after patrol," Buffy promised.

"I'll go get some groceries," Angel replied "and look into a microwave."

Buffy smiled – not just at the prospect of having cooked food, but at the thought that Angel would get her something he had no use for. A microwave would take a large chunk out of his savings.

"See you later." Buffy gave Angel a quick kiss, then headed off on patrol.