Chapter XII

The tension in the office during the next several days was so thick it was almost tangible.  Anyone having the misfortune to even drop a memo on Angel’s desk couldn’t avoid the pervasively palpable phantom of stress lurking like a silent member of the room.

Angel had spent what was left of his weekend from alternately chastising himself for interfering in Buffy’s life and telling himself he wasn’t a part of it, to wondering hopelessly what to do with the rest of his life without her.  By Monday morning he had convinced himself once more that she needed someone else in her life, whatever the cost to his own heart.  He told himself he wouldn’t become possessive when it came to Buffy with other men.  He had no right, that part of what she said had been true.  He would be detached and unemotional if it killed him.

Buffy had used her time letting her anger build to a boiling point, wondering how one man could be so obviously brilliant, and yet, so incredibly dense.  She was damned if he was going tell her what was best for her without her having a say in the matter.  But she knew trying to jackhammer any sense into the Angel’s obstinate stone wall wasn’t the answer.  She wasn’t sure exactly what to do, but she would find a way to make him understand.

They barely looked in each other’s direction.  Angel forced himself not to smell the scent of vanilla that assailed his senses whenever she was near, or pay any attention to the warmth her presence radiated.  Buffy kept a check on her temper, steadfastly refusing to give into the urge to march over and give Angel a swift kick whenever she saw that now familiar slump of dejection in his shoulders, signaling his lack of self-worth.  Or giving in to the even stronger impulse to make him take her in his arms and love her like she knew he did.

Amazingly they made it through the entire week, thanks only to Buffy not being in the room with Angel for the majority of the time.  Frequent visits to Lindsey’s office or in his company where he was on assignment had kept her busy.  Her work with McDonald was almost at an end.  The culprit at the center of the case was within days of being detained formally.  All that was left was finishing up the paperwork such an endeavor created and submitting it to their superiors for perusal.

In the short time she’d known Lindsey it wasn’t hard to find that the paperwork was one aspect of being an agent that he despised.  Lindsey had been a good friend to her the last couple weeks, sensing her need for unquestioned acceptance, and she felt she owed him for that.  As a surprise for him, she had gathered their work together and completed as much as she could without his input, making his part of it decidedly easy.  She hadn’t had the chance to give him the information.  She had spent the evening before putting everything in place while she was home.  She could have stayed late and done the work in the office, but even when Angel wasn’t there, the echo of his presence and the residue of emotions charging the air kept her away.  She still wasn’t sleeping well, finding herself staring into the dark for hours before falling into a fitful unconsciousness.  As a result, she woke up late that Friday, racing to work, leaving everything she labored over the night before sitting on her kitchen table.

Willow had been gently prodding her to make an appearance that night at Willy’s.  It had been several weeks since Buffy had been there and Willow missed her presence.  Plus Willow figured her best friend needed the distraction.  Willow was only too aware that all was not right in Buffy’s world these days.  Buffy hadn’t promised her friend she would show, rather she decided to say nothing and surprise her instead.  She was tired and didn’t want to go, but didn’t want Willow worrying about her.  Her plan was to stop by home, pick up the papers for Lindsey and give them to him at Willy’s when she joined Willow.

Although Angel had lasted the five days of the workweek, he was on the verge of exhaustion.  Most nights the bed had seemed too wide and empty.  Rather than enduring the loneliness he spent his nights moodily staring into the fire from his chair.  Any sleep he’d managed to wrest was tainted with ravaged dreams of reaching for Buffy only to find her gone.  When he woke, he was forced to that cold reality by the harsh light of day.  His recurring dream of her curled in the chair that sat next to his tore at his heart as the illusion melted with the sun.

It took all of his strength and stamina that last morning to drag himself from bed, shower and dress, then drive to the complex.  Nothing could have kept him away if he only found five minutes of the day would be spent near her.  As it turned out, Buffy spent the entire day sitting right there behind him.  It was a bittersweet agony.  The newest ‘Annie’ that had been brewing since morning didn’t help any.  He tried to lose himself in his work, but the specter of the lonely weekend stretching before him was breaking the last bit of endurance he possessed.

At five o’clock Angel had put the last of his folders in his briefcase, hoping the work he had with him would give him some respite from the long, empty hours ahead.  Buffy had left the office only moments before, headed down the hall towards the break room.  He wondered if she hoped he would be gone when she returned.

The storm had finally broken shortly before.  He grimaced at the rain drumming against the basement window to the accompaniment of strobes of fiery light and pounding thunder.  Although he no longer depended on drugs to get him through them, the frequent and increasingly more violent occurrences of foul weather still had an effect.  His uneasiness towards them had been more pronounced the last couple of weeks.  He had put it off to lack of sleep.  Picking up his jacket along with the case, he had gotten a few feet down the hall when he heard Buffy’s voice.

“I’ve got a surprise waiting for you,” he heard her say in a low voice.

It was Lindsey’s voice that answered with a teasing tone, “For me?”

Angel stopped where he was, unable to move a muscle.  Some part of his brain was telling him he had promised not to get involved with her life anymore.  The rest of him was already screaming to rip Lindsey’s tongue out of his throat.  Angel stayed frozen in place as he listened to the conversation around the corner moving away from him.

“Don’t you think you deserve one?” Buffy asked in the same tone Lindsey had used.

“Depends on what you consider a surprise,” Lindsey lightly jested.

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” passing the banter back to him, her laugh tinkled and drifted away in the distance.

Angel didn’t hear Lindsey’s reply as they passed out of his hearing.  He was still rooted to the spot, a red haze of jealous fury swirling around him.  He finally turned his steps back to the office, blindly making his way to his desk without even knowing where he was.  He stood there, unaware of the passage of time, briefcase and jacket in hand, his large frame trembling with the sudden rage that was overtaking him.

Having watched Angel get ready to leave and expecting an empty office, Buffy almost ran into him when she entered the room.  “Angel,” she chirped, jumping, “I thought you were gone.”

He whipped around, dropping his forgotten belongings to the floor.  Looking down at her, his eyes flashed dangerously, “Yes,” he bit out, “I can see you were distracted.”  It hurt him more than he had thought possible to think she had actually moved on and in such a short time.  He knew she loved him, how could she do that?

Buffy sensed the waves of anger pulsate around him, as she felt her own rise in response.  She knew the howling wind shrieking outside had nothing on the tempest unfurling before her.  She instantly knew he must have heard her talking to Lindsey about the papers she had to give him.  Although she had no idea what Angel thought he heard, the jealousy burning in his eyes exposed the conclusions he’d drawn.  Angel loved her.  His whole being was practically screaming it at her.  He had to love her very much to be so very angry.  But now so was she.  It had been a perfectly innocent exchange with Lindsey and she was damned if she was going to explain herself to Angel.  She walked determinedly towards her desk. “I was just getting my things,” she said, refusing to elaborate.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he spat as he turned and stalked towards her.  “You have better things to do, I’m sure.”  He couldn’t stay away from her; she drew him like a magnet.

Buffy whirled around to see him towering over her.  She had never felt any fear when she was near Angel, nor did she now.  But she felt the pain that was emanating from him; it was laced with the jealousy and anger that were shaking his frame.  Her heart cried out for him, but his blind obstinacy still stoked her own fury.  “And what better things do you think those would be, Angel?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he countered.  “I don’t want to keep you.”

His choice of words made her snap.  Cordelia was right.  Gentle wasn’t the way to go with Angel.  If she had a club she would have used it on his head.  She made up her mind  that he wasn’t leaving that room, he wasn’t leaving her sight, he wasn’t leaving her ever again and she was going to make him understand that once and for all.

“You’re right, Angel!” Buffy spat back, hands on her hips.  “You aren’t keeping me, you didn’t want to keep me in your life.  It doesn’t work with us.  That’s what you told me.”

Her retort only accentuated the pain he felt.  She was twisting his words as if the fault was hers.  He grabbed her by the shoulders, “No, I-I can't give you a life, or a future or anything a girl would want.”

“You say that!  Why is it just your decision?  What about me?  I love you so much,” she insisted.

“What, do you think this is simple?” Angel returned, exasperated, “You think there's an easy answer?”

“Why is it difficult?  What are you so afraid of?” she looked up at him not letting him turn his eyes away.

“Because I want you so badly!  I want to take comfort in you,” he cried.

“Why is that so wrong?”  Buffy wanted to know, the same timber rang in her question.

 Angel shook his head, dropping his hands to his sides as if in defeat. “Look, I'm weak. I've never been anything else.”

“You're weak.  Everybody is.  Everybody fails,” she told him firmly as she reached back for him, locking her hands on his arms.

“You can never understand,” he tried to tell her, looking into her eyes.

“Why won’t you let me try?” she cried, answering him with a question.

He raised his hands to her face, his own a mere breath away, “Am I a thing worth saving?  You don’t know who I am, Buffy.  I’m just a shell, I’m not even a man.”

“So that’s it, Angel?” she replied in an agonized whisper, putting her hands on his, “You don’t think you’re worth it?  You just give up?”

“Buffy, please.  For once ... let me be strong,” the sound of his voice becoming ragged with emotion as he stepped away from her, tears streaking his anguished face.

“Strong is fighting!  It's hard, and it's painful, and it's every day.  It's what we have to do.  And we can do it together.”  Tears of frustration sprang from her own eyes.  Why couldn’t he see what she was trying to tell him?

He closed his eyes, not answering, not moving.

“Then I’m not worth fighting for?” she asked in a low voice, “So what difference does it make to you if I’m with someone else?”

His eyes snapped open at the absurdity of her words.  Unable to believe she could think that after his revelations, he clarified, “You’re the only thing in the world worth fighting for!  I’m the one who isn’t worth it!”

“I think you are, Angel,” she said angrily, “but if I can't convince you that you are, then I don't know what can.  But do not expect me to keep waiting.  You’re the only one I’ll ever love, but I guess that’s not good enough.  You’re jealous of Riley or Lindsey?  Get used to it, you’ve left me no choice.”

“What are you saying?” he raged, his anger and jealousy welling up all over again at the mention of his rivals.

“What do you think I’m saying?” she snarled back, grabbing for her purse on the desk.  “I’m supposed to find that happiness you think is out there for me.  Why wait?” she taunted as she stalked towards the door.

He was in front of her before she could reach it.  He grabbed her by the arms, pushing her back, kicking the door shut.  The sound reverberated through the room.  “So you’re just going to go out and find one of them?” he fumed.

“What am I supposed to do?” she threw at him, “What’s left?  Now let me go.”  When he didn’t release her, she played her last desperate hope.  “There might be someone out there who will love me enough to care.  Or maybe it’s better they don’t.”

“I care!” he roared, “I love you!”

“Then prove it, Angel,” Buffy shouted, “Don’t just talk about it, show me!  Because if you don’t, if you dare leave me again, I swear, you’ll find me under one of them!”

Angel’s body shook with the possessive anger her threat evoked.  She couldn’t do that.  He didn’t believe her, especially after all she’d just told him.  He knew it was an empty threat, no matter how mad she was.  But that didn’t stop his violent reaction to the mental image her words conjured.  The last tenuous barriers crumbled at visualizing her with anyone except himself.  He knew now he could never stand by and see her with another man.  If it was proof she needed, he’d give it to her!

Buffy saw a stark, brilliant flash of lightening out of the corner of her eye then felt the earth shudder from the peal of thunder that followed.  Angel grabbed her roughly against him, crushing her to his chest.  One hand slid up the back of her neck, grasping a handful of long, blonde hair, pulling her head back.  His face was once more a hairsbreadth from hers.  “If that’s what you want, I’ll show you,” he hissed against her lips, mashing his mouth over hers, forcing his tongue in with bruising force.  He held her there for long moments, unable to stop, now that he finally had her in his arms again.  Not breaking the kiss, Angel turned her around.  Moving a few steps, he pushed her back against his desk, lifting her to balance on its edge.

He released her lips long enough to let them breath.  He drew his in deeply, looking down at the simple white cotton top with tiny straps over her bare shoulders and the short dark skirt hiked high up her thighs.  All those mornings he had seen her in a similar outfit perched in the exact same spot flashed provocatively through his mind.  Every day he had longed to do exactly what he was doing at this moment – holding her, touching her.  Her flesh felt so warm and yielding beneath his hands.  He ran his fingers over the creamy velvet skin and soft inviting curves as if impelled to touch every inch of her.  They roved over her shoulders, swept down her arms and back, then dug into the material covering the soft cheeks of her buttocks as he roughly dragged her hips towards him.  He recaptured her lips, giving her one of the long, deep, lustful kisses he had imagined over and over again.

Angel stood close to the desk, twisting and jutting his hips forward as she slid her legs apart in blatant invitation.  He groaned against her mouth at the contact as he cupped his large hands around the softly rounded globes, pulling her more tightly against him.

She could feel his erection, hard and long, straining beneath the fabric separating them, throbbing to be set free from confinement.  Pulling him even closer, she ground into him, her growing wetness seeping through her panties onto his trousers.

Buffy didn’t feel a shred of guilt for throwing someone else in his face if that’s what it took to get through to him.  Anything to bring him back to her.  She had missed him so much, wanted … needed him so badly.  Twining her hands more tightly around his neck, she held the kiss, bending his head even closer towards hers, her fingers clutching his thick, dark hair.  She could feel the quivering tension in his arms as he lifted his hands to catch her hard against him in a fierce embrace.

He lifted his head, panting from his need.  “I love you,” he forced out in a ragged whisper, the words tearing themselves from his throat.  “I try not to, but I can’t stop.”

“Me too,” she cried, “I can’t either.”  She loved him so much.  At his admission and final surrender, a teardrop fell and trickled down her cheek.

Angel moaned as he leaned in, gently tasting the single tear, replacing it with fiery kisses that trailed across her face and down her throat.  He outlined her collarbone with his tongue, craving her sweet, vanilla skin.  Fanning her desire, he stoked his own, raining hot, wet kisses on one delicate shoulder, then retracing the burning path across to the other.

Taking possession once more of her mouth, he nipped at her top lip, then bit down on the lower one.  He was voracious, taking every bit of sweetness he could find, sucking her tongue in, sliding it against him own.  All the while his hands wandered restlessly; grasping, teasing, tempting as his fingers followed her lush, soft lines, exploring her warm secrets.  She was breathless before he broke the kiss.  His eyes were dark with passion, riveting her in place.

“You’re mine!” he said fiercely, finally claiming her, as she sobbed in agreement.  His hand dug into her waist, still holding her by the hair with the other.  He dove back into her mouth with no less force than before, drinking down her moan as he devoured her lips.

Buffy’s desire for him spiraled with each brutal kiss.  Between her legs, she felt her body's liquid response flow from her core in answer to his fervent declaration.  She’d been longing to hear those words since that first night they made love.  Nothing had been right since he left.  She returned his kisses with equal ardor, nipping and sucking at his lips, dueling her tongue against his.

Suddenly ripping off the thin top she wore in one swift tearing motion, he reached behind her, fumbling with her bra, finally tossing it aside.  He captured both breasts in his hands, sucking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling the hard tip.  His fingers closed around the soft flesh, kneading it, his teeth scraping hungrily against the nipple he held captive.  She gasped from the sensation, arching into him.  Angel was ravenous for the taste of her, he’d dreamt about this so many empty nights.  His mouth left one breast to tease the other with his teeth and tongue.  Lifting his hand to the abandoned nipple, he rolled the sensitive point between his thumb and finger.  Buffy pushed herself against him, begging him to take more.

The thought of another man even touching her made him furious.  One hand had found its way back to her golden, shining hair, twining it in his fingers, tugging her head back to give him better access.  Moving his mouth to her throat, he bit in as if marking her as his own.

“Mine!” she heard him growl again.  He took mouthfuls of her skin, sucking hard, knowing her tender flesh would bear his marks.  He laved the succulent white column, roughly soothing the abraded flesh.

“Yours,” she breathed, feeling his hot breath on her neck as he nipped and licked at her skin.  Her hands found their way to his chest, ripping buttons off his shirt to slide inside, tickling her fingers across the hard muscular surface beneath.  She felt him shudder at her touch, inciting her passion even more.  Grabbing the shirt, she pulled it all the way open, pushing it off his shoulders, desperate for the feel of his skin against hers.  He shrugged it the rest of the way off, his muscles tensing, then rippling as her fingers curved around his back, digging into his skin.  Buffy was greedy for him, her hands roamed his back, his chest, his shoulders, raking her nails over his skin.

Angel’s pulse throbbed in his ears, he felt himself grow harder, feeling what little control remained slip away.  Attempting to remove her skirt he snagged and tore the zipper in his haste.  Exasperated, he pulled her forward far enough to tear it more, lifting her an instant to push it down, then off her legs, along with her shoes.  In the heat of his passion, Buffy saw tattered pieces of her delicate lace panties fall to the floor.  He leaned back far enough to rake hot, hungry eyes over her flesh.  Her bedroom had been dark the night they made love.  This was the first time he had feasted his eyes on her small, perfect body in the light.  If possible, he hardened even more at the sight.

His face was transfixed with awe as he worshiped her with his eyes, “Buffy,” he breathed heatedly, “you’re so, so beautiful.”

She gave him a suddenly shy smile, making her look innocently seductive, color flushing her skin a deep rose at his words.  Feeling the lustful adoration burning her with its gaze, Buffy answered with a heat of her own.  She unbuttoned his pants, grappling with the zipper, in a hurry to remove the offending garment.  Her eagerness inflamed him and he growled, impatiently pulling her hands away and shoved both the pants and his boxers down and kicked them off with his shoes.

Reaching back down for the pants, he searched through the pockets.  Feeling Buffy’s gaze, he self-consciously pulled his wallet out and fished out a foil packet.  After their one night together he knew it was wrong for him to be with her.  He also knew there would never be anyone else in his life or his bed except her.  But it hadn’t stopped him from making a point the very next day of buying condoms and carrying some with him.  Buffy’s smirk as she helped him roll the supple cover over his hard length was worth a thousand words.  He returned her look with a deliciously evil grin.

He slid his hand between her legs, fingers seeking their way through the soft, curling hair, burrowing quickly into her folds.  Groaning, he slipped two of them deep inside her, feeling them instantly coated with her juices, ready for him.  He caught the heady fragrance of her arousal, a scent he had smelled only one night and would never forget.  It made him dizzy with desire.  He rubbed his thumb against her swollen, sensitive bud making her grind against his hand, her head falling back as she arched against him once more.  He withdrew his fingers and grasped her by the hips.  Lowering his head, Angel lifted one hand to bring her head closer, then kissed her even more savagely.  His hand dropped to her waist, pulling her to the very edge of the desk as he pressed into her entrance.  He impaled her in one swift movement, thrusting himself deeply inside.  Her body welcomed his return, her moist, tight channel stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

They both cried out at his invasion, reveling in being one again.  So overcome at feeling him inside her once more she climaxed as he filled her to bursting, calling out his name as she peaked in his arms.  He gritted his teeth to keep from following too soon after her, awash in her liquid heat, her muscles clenching and grasping him, holding him in exquisite agony.

Buffy wept at the feel of Angel buried so deeply where she needed him.  She had missed him so much, relived the memories so many times.  She pulled him closer, using her inner muscles to draw and hold him, wrapping her legs around his hips to lock him in place.  Angel felt the soft, undulating walls pull and contract around him, his eyes shut tight, muscles cording as her hot flesh surrounded him.  He needed to move, his blood racing, hands once more biting into the flesh on her hips.  He pulled out, plunging back in, not stopping, continuing to thrust in and out of her.  Every push back into her depths elicited a deep moan from her as he rasped his sex over sensitive nerves both in and outside of her.  Angel grunted with the effort, her sounds of pleasure spurring him to go faster, deeper until he set a bruising pace, the motion oddly in sync with the rhythm of the rain pelting the small square of glass above them.  He pounded into her, almost out of his mind with the ecstasy surging through every part of his body.  She could never be too close, he could never delve too deeply.

Withdrawing for only a moment, he pulled her legs from his waist, putting his arms underneath them.  As he drove back into her, Buffy’s eyes glazed over as the heat from the friction spread through her like wildfire.  Tiny beads of sweat dotted her upper lip as she laid back on the desk and wrapped her arms around his, lifting her legs higher, urging him closer still.  Slamming into her, almost at the point of exploding, he reached down to where they were joined.  He wanted her to come with him.  His fingers twisted her slick nub rubbing it almost painfully.  His touch jolted through her.  She peaked once more, pleasure pulsing through her, tingling its way to every nerve ending in waves, crying out Angel’s name once more.  He came at the sound of his name on her lips, her hot core throbbing, clamping him like a vise.  Swept away by the euphoric feeling of her all around him, pulling him deep, he pumped into her erratically, shouting her name with the last of his breath.

Almost unable to move, he loosened her legs from around his hips, gasping.  Still trying to fill his lungs with air, he slid his hands under her back and pulled her up to his chest.  He needed to feel her, skin to skin, heart to heart.  The beat of hers answering his own.  Buffy burrowed into his embrace, puffing small breaths against his sweat-slicked chest.  Her small arms reached around his waist, holding onto him as tightly as he held her.  He dropped kisses in her hair as she snuggled against him.  She could still hear the storm outside, its force spent, winding down.

When they finally calmed, their breathing recovered and their heart rates neared to a normal pace.  Angel discreetly removed and disposed of the condom.  He was almost embarrassed to look at her now that the fire and passion had burned away.  He’d lost total control … again.  He felt like a caveman blindly coupling with his mate.  But at the picture that drew in his mind, he found himself smugly smiling.  As said mate lifted her head with a sated, satisfied look on her face, he couldn’t erase the smile.

Buffy grinned – naked, on Angel’s desk, clothes strewn on the floor, and Angel smiling down on her with a self-satisfied smirk.  “Take me to your cave, Neanderthal man,” she chuckled, reading his mind.

Angel laughed, a rare and precious sound to her ears.  Then he stopped as the import of her words sunk all the way in.  With a solemn look he gazed down at her, his fingers tucking a sweat-drenched lock of hair behind her ear.  The fingers trailed slowly to her chin as he said, “I’ll take you home with me,” a soft glow lighting his face from within.

He stepped back, gently releasing her, to scoop up her clothes.  Eyeing what was left of them, he picked up his jacket, lying by his forgotten briefcase.  He handed it to her with what was almost an apology on his face.  “Sorry,” he said with little conviction.

After they dressed as best they could, Angel bundled her down the hall.  Glad everyone had gone home for the weekend, leaving the building deserted, he hurried her into his car.  He kept glancing over at her, as if to see if she was still there.  Wearing a look of awed happiness he couldn’t keep off his face, he drove through rain swept streets the short distance to his house.  He pulled in the driveway, parked, and ran around to open her door before she could reach for the door handle.  Giving him a blinding smile she let him help her, twining her fingers in the hand he held out.  She held them as he led her up the path and waited while he unlocked the door and escorted her inside.

He closed the door and without even giving her a chance to look around, he captured her lips with his.  Buffy stood up on tiptoe, hands automatically reaching around his neck, opening her mouth to his tender request.  His arms came around her, deepening the kiss, finally breaking it, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, his eyes shining down on her.  As she gazed back up to him, he basked in the love she radiated for him.  She was here …with him.

Buffy couldn’t take her eyes off him to even look at the room.  He was still Angel, quiet and shy.  But the brooding darkness seemed to have lifted from his features.  An endearingly beguiling small half-smile stayed on his lips, reflected in his eyes.

Catching her hand once more in his, he tugged her down the hallway into his bedroom.  She leaned against the closet doorway as he searched through the clothes hanging there.  She was mesmerized, watching him constantly glance over as if to make sure she hadn’t disappeared.  He finally handed her a shirt and a pair of boxers from the drawer below, then recaptured her hand in his and led her into the bathroom.

Buffy wouldn’t release his hand as he turned to go, but pulled him back inside, closing the door. ”Stay?” she whispered almost pleadingly as she lifted her eyes to his.

The look of pure love shining out of them was almost too much for Angel.  He thought his heart would burst right out of his chest that she loved him that much.  “I couldn’t leave you if I tried," he told her honestly, wrapping his arms around her, his cheek resting against her hair.  He held her carefully.  The emotions he felt coursing through him made him afraid he would injure her with their intensity.  She was so easy to love but it was still hard to believe how deeply he could see she felt it in return.

“Wash my back?” he heard her say, muffled against his chest.

“Your back, your face, your hair …” he trailed off as she reached up and pulled his head down towards hers.  It was a long, sweet kiss.  He was still trying to deal with the incredible feeling of euphoria she gave him.

Almost shyly she helped him take off his shirt and pants as he loosed his jacket from her shoulders.  He reached into the shower, turning on the water, testing the temperature, then drew her in with him under the steamy, hot water.  They could feel the passion and desire for each other not far away, but this was about discovery.  They wanted to take the time to know each other, just to touch one another.

Angel found himself tracing gentle patterns on her arms and back as he had dreamed of doing so many times.  He placed tender kisses on her neck and shoulders as he lathered the soap, sliding his fingers over her skin.  They took turns gently massaging shampoo through one another’s hair.  Buffy let the soap slip through her hands lost in the feel of his muscles against her palms.  They took their time, languishing in the warm mist, enjoying the feeling of oneness they shared.  They finally left the stall when the water began to cool.

After he wrapped Buffy in a huge cotton towel, he insisted on drying her.  She didn’t argue, but smiled as she felt the large, strong hands through the towel, gently pat each inch of skin, then tousle her hair.  He gave her the clothes he had found for her.  While she dressed, he dried himself, padding back to the bedroom long enough to find something for himself to wear.  She followed behind him still buttoning the crimson silk shirt over the black silk boxers from his closet.  He turned when he heard her step, his smile widening at the picture she made in his clothes.  He thought they had never been worn so beautifully.

He finally left her on her own long enough to rummage around in the kitchen to find something for them to eat while she wandered through the living room.  She fingered one of his books as her gaze took in the volumes that lined the walls, surrounding the room with their staunch, solid security.  She intuitively understood what the books and the room itself represented to Angel.  And with that, just how singular her own presence was in the midst of it.  It reminded her painfully of her conversation with Cordelia, something she knew still had to be broached and brought into the open.  She unconsciously shook her head, unwilling to inflict any hurt upon him as happy as he was right now.  But she knew nothing had really changed, that until they shared the scars, inside and out that they both had, they couldn’t move on.  In his words, it wouldn’t work with them.

He called to her and she laid down the slim volume to join him in the kitchen.  She was quiet as she nibbled at the salad and French bread he’d set on plates on the table.  She sipped a little of the wine with a pensive look.  He wondered at the sudden change in her mood, worried he’d done something to upset her, but didn’t ask, waiting instead, giving her time.  When they were done, he swept the few dishes into the dishwasher.  As before he took her smaller hand in his, this time leading her to the fireplace.  He built a small fire as she looked on, preoccupied, then he drew her down in his chair, tucking her in beside him.

He stroked the silken hair as he gently laid his cheek against her forehead.  “Are you going to tell me why you’re so quiet?” he asked, concern leaking into his words.

A few seconds passed.  “I love you,” she told him in a small voice, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of the shirt that covered his chest.

“I know that,” he answered as he lifted her chin with one finger to see into her eyes.  The pain and sadness there, and the worry, behind the love in her look pierced him.  “I love you,” he said, overwhelmed once again by how deeply she affected him.  “More than anything,” he added with a desperate whisper.  He waited while she remained silent.  His concern for her won out over his patience.  “Tell me what it is, love,” he pleaded softly.  If she only realized how much he loved her – more than life itself.  He had called her ‘love’ so naturally, he thought, but that was what she was, love personified.  What else would he call her?

She wasn’t sure how to start, not wanting to push him away, knowing he would be troubled no matter how she went about it.  Gathering her courage, she finally shifted around, sitting almost face to face with him.  “I-I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” she started.

He wasn’t calmed, knowing from her tone how serious she was.  He could feel her tension and eased his large hands down her back as he studied her.

“In fact, I never let myself love anyone for a long time,” she said.  She smiled then, “But, you didn’t give me any choice.”  She took a long breath, knowing the next part would wound him, but she went on, “When you left – every time you left – I thought it was me.”

She reached out two fingers, pressing them against his lips as he started to open his mouth in protest.  Then seeing the look of self-loathing in his eyes replace the light that had been there for so short a time, she leaned in and kissed him softly.

“No, don’t …  Let me explain,” she entreated, as she threaded her fingers through his hand.  “When I was younger, I had a close friend …”  Buffy told him about Pike.  She told him about her parents breaking up and about her father abandoning her.  She explained how her mother’s death had reinforced her feelings.  How she had never gotten serious with anyone since then, nor had she wanted any close relationship.  “I thought when they left, that they didn’t love me, that it was something I had done or not done that caused it,” she ended.

“They were fools for leaving you,” Angel said, not understanding how anyone couldn’t love her.

She gave him a wise, sad smile, “So were you, Angel,” she reminded him.  When he tried to lower his eyes, she tilted his face up, “But for different reasons.  They left me because they were worried about themselves and that's who came first.  You left because you put me first."  Her fingers traced from his chin up his jaw, then drifted back down again.  "They were selfish, Angel.  Something you don't know how to be.  And I love you for that, even though it hurt," she finished in a low voice.

He reached his arms around her, kissing her softly, hiding his head in the crook of her neck, “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered.

“No one can hurt me as much as you,” she confessed.  When she felt him cringe at her words, she lifted a hand back to his face to look at her.  “Because no one could ever love me as much as you,” she said softly.

She nuzzled down into his embrace, still turned towards him.  “If you and I didn’t love each other so much, I might have been able to cover it up, push it away and not deal with it.”  She looked back up, “But you made me see things, painful things about myself.  I wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t for you.”

Buffy gathered her strength for what she was about to tell him, unconsciously squeezing his fingers more tightly.  “You were wrong about leaving, Angel,” she said, searching his face.  “You should have trusted me enough to share why you didn’t stay.”

She saw the dark haunted look move back in and take up residence in his eyes, his head falling forward in dejection.  “Buffy …” he said, not even knowing how to continue.  He had been so happy with her the last few hours, he had managed to push everything away.  Now it was all rushing back around them.

“I-I already know what happened when you were a boy, Angel, and what happened two years ago,” she said softly as carefully as she could.  His eyes grew wide with shock.  She felt him tense and raised her hand back to his face to comfort him.  She thought fleetingly it was as though she was trying to calm some kind of frightened animal that had been wounded and left vulnerable.

“Who told you?” he questioned her, his voice thickening with anger, almost snarling.  His business was his own, no one else’s.  He sat up and away, only holding her loosely.  His eyes penetrating into hers.

“Cordelia came to visit me while you were away,” Buffy admitted.  “And I begged Lindsey to tell me what happened during the training exercise.  He could lose his job for it, but he knows how much I love you, so he finally gave in.  He didn’t want to do it.”

Angel shot up, practically dumping her on the floor in his fury.  “He should lose it, he had no right, neither did Cordelia,” he ranted.

Buffy refused to let his anger stand in the way.  She scrambled to a stand.  Putting her hands on her hips, she told him, “Cordelia loves you.  She was worried about you.  She cares about you, just like I do and she knew you wouldn’t tell me!”

“It happened a long time ago, Buffy, it’s over,” he said bluntly, walking away towards the shelves of books.

She followed right behind, pulling him around to face her, “It’s not over at all, Angel, it’s keeping us apart,” she said, angry that he was still shutting her out.  “You said yourself it won’t work with us and that’s why.  You have to let me in.”

“Into what?” he countered angrily, “What’s left of me?  It isn’t pretty, Buffy, what little there is to see.  That’s why I tried to stay away from you.  You deserve a real man, not a broken one.”

“Why won’t you let me decide for myself?  Why is what I do with my life only up to you, not both of us?” she challenged him.  “I love you, Angel,” she cried, “I can’t live without you anymore.  Don’t you understand?  You have to let me in!  You’re the only somewhere I have to go.”

Buffy was so tired.  It had been a very long day.  She had been so happy with him, so overjoyed to see him smile and look free for those few hours.  She loved him from the very depth of her being and she wasn’t going to let him go.  But she was so frustrated arguing with him, she broke down, crumpling against him, crying.

He couldn’t stand the sight of the tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking with sobbing that he had caused yet again.  He lifted her into his arms, smoothing a hand over her back, his anger dissolving in her tears.  “I’m sorry, love, please don’t cry.  I didn’t mean to be angry with you,” he murmured in her ear as he gently rocked her to calm her down.

“Angel,” she breathed in a ragged whisper, still desperate for him to know just how much she loved him, “all I can see is you … all I want is you.”

“I know the feeling,” he answered from the bottom of his heart.

[end chapter 12]

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