Buffy felt strange staying in Angel’s apartment by herself while he was gone. That’s not to say that she wasn’t in hog heaven. Monday night, she just rattled around the apartment, looking at things and showing interest in what she wouldn’t have dared admire with him watching. She even ventured into his bedroom. She didn’t touch anything. She just looked around, sating her curiosity.
On the second night, she staked out her own house and waited until Ethan went to the bar to grab her extra pair of cargo pants, a few pairs of her panties and her two spare tank tops. She didn’t want to risk coming back again for a while. She knew when she did; Ethan would tear her to pieces. He always flew into a rage when she was gone more than a few days. The last time that happened, he beat her so severely that Spike found her in her bedroom, lying in her own blood.
After she dropped off the clothes at Angel’s place, she was restless. Without Angel around, she was bored senseless. She didn’t have a job or a place to go. From the look on Angel’s face the other night, he wasn’t too keen on her spending her spare time with Spike. Actually, considering she had been sober for longer than she could remember she wasn’t too anxious to ruin it by seeing her friend either. She already knew he’d probably be wondering where the fuck she was. She didn’t want to explain Angel to him. Spike wouldn’t understand what was going on and to tell the truth, she wasn’t sure she did. She did, however, know a good thing. She wasn’t going to fuck it up.
Stretching, she headed out the door after first making sure the key to Angel’s apartment was securely placed in the jacket’s inner pocket. She turned off all the lights and locked the door, feeling oddly responsible. Her house hadn’t been locked since her mother died. There wasn’t a reason. There was nothing there worth stealing and anyone who was stupid enough to walk through the door deserved what they got.
She headed over to campus and strolled around the grounds. She loved the campus and often walked there at night when she was prowling for a guy or just needing to get away. Sometimes she dreamed that she was one of the students, just heading to a class or maybe meeting friends for lunch. Not that she liked school. She fucking hated school. Of course, that really wasn’t the point.
Finally, after awhile of wandering around the quad, she headed for the Alpha house. Even though it was only a Tuesday night, she knew the guys would probably be hanging out and drinking beer. They certainly weren’t the types to absorb the knowledge.
“Watch where you’re going! God!” Cordelia demanded, breaking Buffy out of her thoughts. She moved aside and was preparing to shoot back an insult in passing, when Cordy stopped walking and turned around to face her.
“What’re you looking at?” Buffy grouched, stepping back from Angel’s sister’s scrutiny.
“Is that my brother’s jacket?” Cordelia shouted, pulling Buffy forward by the lapels. She pulled open the coat and looked on the side fold, as if his name would be imprinted there. It wasn’t. Buffy knew every inch of the garment.
“No,” Buffy snarled, pulling away. “Get the fuck off me.”
“Oh yes it is,” Cordy snapped back, keeping a hold on the leather with all of her might. “I dripped fingernail polish on it a year ago. This is Angel’s jacket, you thieving whore!”
“I didn’t steal it,” Buffy mumbled, halfheartedly trying to pull away.
“Oh, and you expect me to believe that a guy like Angel gave a girl like you a leather jacket?” she snorted incredulously. “Yeah, right. Take it off or I’ll call the cops.”
Buffy gripped the jacket with white knuckled hands. She couldn’t give it up. She’d give Cordy her clothes before she let the jacket out of her sight. “No,” Buffy said, practically pleading. “I didn’t steal it, Cordelia.”
Growling, Cordelia pulled out her cell phone and was preparing to dial when Buffy pulled the jacket off and handed it over. Snatching it away, Cordy headed back in the direction of her car, shoving the phone back into her designer purse.
Buffy stood there with tear filled eyes and watched her until she drove away. Suddenly, she shoved her hands in her pants pockets and cried out in distress. The key to Angel’s apartment was tucked securely in the inside pocket of the coat that was driving away in Cordy’s car. She stumbled to the side and sat down in front of a tree, pulling her knees up to her chest. She lowered her face to her knees and sobbed. He was going to be gone two more days and she had nowhere to go but back down.
***
Buffy trudged slowly down the street, her hands shoved in the pockets of her cargo pants, shivering. It wasn’t exactly freezing out, but it was windy and her threadbare tanktop wasn’t exactly suitable attire for the time of year.
Right now, her choices were pretty limited. She could keep her earlier plan and head over to the Alpha frat, but even as she thought about it, she crossed it off her mental list. Before the Cordy incident, she’d been planning to just hang out, waste a little time. Now she’d be looking for someone to hook up with, somewhere to stay. While she personally didn’t see anything wrong with that scenario, she knew Angel would be pissed. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew he would. Same for Spike’s place.
She could go home, but she wasn’t really up to going twelve rounds with Ethan at the moment. That left one last option. Dammit.
***
Buffy was trying to be quiet, but she’d kept the lights off and as a consequence hadn’t seen the two by four in the middle of the room. Half the Hyperion had probably heard the racket she made.
She pulled her bic out, using the meager light to search for the drop cloths she knew had been there last weekend when she was painting with Lindsey. She found it and tried to fold it into some sort of pallet. The thought of sleeping on the dusty bare floor made her long for Angel’s couch. She couldn’t remember ever sleeping as well as she did at his place. She felt safe there, and warm and comfortable.
Just then, the bare, overhead light flipped on. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Buffy stood up straight, twisting around. It was Trevor, the cranky old security guard. “Nothing,” she snapped.
“These rooms are off limits. Let’s go.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, but knew better than to argue. She preceded Trevor down the hall and back into the lobby where Jenny was sitting at the front desk.
“Found her trying to steal some stuff out of one of the rooms,” he said.
“I wasn’t stealing shit, old man!” Buffy yelled.
“Hey, hey,” Jenny interrupted. She turned and looked at the security guard. “It’s fine, Trevor.”
“Want me to call the cops?” he asked.
“No,” Jenny said firmly. “It’s fine. You can go.” Trevor nearly snarled at Buffy, but finally turned and left.
Buffy looked at Jenny. “You’re not calling the cops?”
Jenny stared at her speculatively. “No.”
“Then I’m outta here,” Buffy said, turning on her heel.
Jenny watched the girl go, shaking her head. On impulse, she walked down to the room where Trevor had found Buffy. She saw the makeshift bed in the corner. “Dammit,” she cursed.
***
It was late and getting colder. Buffy took some of her carefully hoarded cash that Angel had left and caught a bus back to her shitty neighborhood. Maybe Ethan would already be passed out.
Buffy didn’t want to get off that bus, but she did. The lights were on at the house and Buffy peeked inside a few of the windows. Ethan never bothered to close the curtains. She grimaced at the sight of him and some nasty old skank going at it on the couch. At least she could sneak upstairs without being seen.
She groaned as she looked at her bedroom door. The doorframe was splintered. Guess Ethan didn’t like her lock. “Fuck,” she muttered, flipping on the light. Her room was trashed. Ethan was such a fucking asshole. Buffy didn’t know why he even bothered messing with her shit. It wasn’t like she had anything nice anyway.
Buffy closed the door, bracing a chair against the doorknob. It wasn’t as good as a lock, but it would give her a heads up if Ethan decided to come visit. She didn’t take off her clothes, falling onto the mattress fully dressed. She knew she might have to make a run for it and she didn’t want to do it in the nude.
***
Buffy jolted awake at the sound of Ethan slamming his body against her bedroom door. The frame had taken quite a beating from nights like this when he was totally out of his mind. She scrambled from her bed and went to the window.
“Open this godamn door!” Ethan shouted. Even as the words came out of his mouth, the chair splintered and Buffy hurried to the window and slid out. She was running before she hit the ground, scrambling to get away. She heard him shouting behind her as she made her way down the street, but she didn’t turn around. She just kept running.
She made her way to the only place she knew she’d be relatively safe – Spike’s place. She knew Angel would be angry with her for going there, but she was out of options. She was out of breath and panting when she reached his door, but even over her own labored breathing, she heard a woman’s cry of pleasure through the wood and Spike’s lower grunts. Tears filled her eyes as she slammed her back against the wall outside of his dingy apartment. Spike would have kittens if she interrupted him now.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. How could she let Angel give her some hope of turning things around? How could she believe for one second that she would have a safe place to sleep and food in her belly without having to sell herself?
Turning, dejected and hopeless, she left the apartment building and headed back out onto the street. Clenching her fists, she headed for the Outhouse. It always had something going on and maybe she could find a place to crash for the night. The idea of fucking some guy for the use of his bed wasn’t new, but it still wasn’t inviting.
When Angel came home, she knew he wouldn’t forgive her. She had managed, within a couple of short hours, to fuck everything up beyond all recognition, but that was no different from any other day. She reached into her pocket and clutched what was left of the money he gave her. It was all she had left of him and it was only paper.
***
Angel made his way home late Thursday night exhausted from having to cram in everything that the other student had been preparing for weeks. He was glad that it had been a success, but he hadn’t had time to do any of his studies for the regular classes he had been missing, which meant he wasn’t going to be able to work with Buffy at the shelter over the weekend.
He was surprised that the apartment was dark when he got home, but it was late. He tiptoed to the couch to see that Buffy wasn’t there and immediately flipped on the lights. All of Buffy’s meager belongings were folded and stacked neatly under the end table, including his t-shirt and boxer shorts.
His leather jacket was tossed over the back of the couch and he stared at it in confusion. Buffy hadn’t let it out of her sight since he’d given it to her. He couldn’t imagine why she would have left without it.
His answering machine was blinking. He sorted through messages from Doyle, who needed a place to crash later in the week, Darla, who was wondering if he had moved to another country, one from his mother and the last from his sister whose voice blared into the room. “I let myself in and dropped off your jacket,” Cordy’s terse voice explained. “I found that skank, Buffy Summers, wearing it around campus. I can’t believe that little bitch stole from you! Call me the second you get back.”
Running his hand through his hair, he crossed the room and searched through the jacket. It didn’t take long to find the apartment key in the pocket. “Son of a bitch,” he growled, throwing it over his arm and heading back out of the apartment. He hopped in the car and dialed Cordelia, who ranted and raved for the whole ride over to Spike’s place.
“She didn’t steal it from me, Cordy,” he finally explained when he was able to get a word in edgewise.”
“What? What are you talking about? Of course she stole it,” Cordelia countered. “You don’t have to protect that little loser, Angel. She’s trash and she’ll always be trash. You have to file a report or something.”
“I let her borrow it,” he said. “It was cold.”
“Oh my GOD!” she shouted. “If you tell me you’ve been sleeping with her-“
“No, I’m not sleeping with her,” Angel answered, a bit more forcefully than he intended. “I just let her borrow my jacket, that’s all.”
Cordy started ranting again and Angel cut her short. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, flipping the phone shut as he concentrated on driving. Everyone who partied at all knew where Spike lived, so Angel had no trouble finding his apartment. When he got there, however, it was dark. “Dammit,” he cursed.
It was late, maybe Buffy went home. Angel drove to her house, parking in front. It too was dark and her stepfather’s beater was gone. Angel knocked on the door and when he received no answer, tested the door. It was unlocked. He slipped inside. “Buffy?”
The house was quiet and dark. Angel crept inside, glancing in rooms. He found what had to be Buffy’s room and it made him sick to his stomach. The doorframe was completely trashed along with most of the contents of the room. But it wasn’t that Buffy was messy. Someone had systematically destroyed everything in her room. This was what she had to come home to. Angel shook his head in disgust.
Angel drove around campus but found no sign of Buffy. Finally, he did the last thing he could think of, he dialed Oz’s number. “You know of any big parties tonight?”
Oz laughed. “I thought this was a school night for you.”
“It is,” Angel bit out, in no mood to be given shit. “Just answer the damn question.”
Oz sobered immediately. “Alpha frat,” he said. “If the cops haven’t shut them down.”
Angel had to park two blocks from the frat. He grabbed his jacket and jumped out of the car, jogging down the street. The party was still going pretty good. The entire house was packed with bodies. Angel searched from room to room.
He was about to head upstairs when a body wrapped around him. “Little sister ain’t here tonight,” Faith said, rubbing against him.
“Faith,” Angel said softly, looking at the gorgeous brunette in his arms. He pulled her into the darkened corner of the stairwell.
”Now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” Faith purring, scratching her nails down his chest.
Angel caught her hands. “That’s not-” he stopped, raking a hand through his hair. “Faith, is Buffy Summers here? Have you seen her tonight?”
Faith pulled back out of his arms like she’d been burned. “Buffy Summers?” she spat.
Angel growled, wishing Faith would be quiet. “Please, it’s not what you think. I just need to find her.”
Narrowing her eyes, Faith looked at him. Fuck it. Maybe the loser stole something and Angel wanted it back. “Parker Abrams had her a while ago. They were probably headed up to his room.”
“And his room is where?” Angel prompted.
“Upstairs,” Faith said. “End of the hall.”
“Thanks,” Angel said, pressing a hard kiss to Faith’s lips before bounding up the stairs.
***
He found Parker’s room with little trouble given that some girl had left him a nasty message on the wipe board tacked to his door. Seemed like Parker liked to love ‘em and leave ‘em. Angel didn’t even bother knocking, he just opened the door.
They were on the couch. Buffy’s shirt was off and she looked only semi-conscious as Parker fondled her breasts. Parker jumped off the couch as Angel entered the room. Angel didn’t even think about it, he just pulled back and punched Parker as hard as he could in the face. Parker howled, crumpling to his knees as blood flowed from his nose.
Angel shook his hand, trying to get the feeling back as he quickly wrapped Buffy in his coat. She looked up at him with bleary eyes. “Angel?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Buffy,” he said softly, zipping the coat shut.
She sighed, snuggling into the coat. “Missed you,” she murmured before nodding off.
Angel took a moment to carefully trace his fingertips along her cheek. Turning away, he viciously fisted his hand in Parker’s hair, forcing him to meet his gaze. “What did you give her?” Angel demanded.
Parker stared at him dumbly and Angel growled. “Don’t make me ask you again,” he said with deadly seriousness.
“GHB,” Parker managed to say before Angel pulled back and hit him again, knocking him unconscious.
“Fucking date rape drug,” Angel muttered, kicking Parker once in the ribs. He turned to face Buffy and carefully lifted her into his arms. She murmured in her sleep, snuggling closer into his embrace. Angel wasn’t about to examine why having her safely in his arms made him feel better. He headed out into the hallway, using the back stairs. He wasn’t in a hurry to have to explain any of this to anyone.
He drove straight to his apartment and went to take Buffy to the couch only to find Doyle lying there instead. He vaguely remembered the message that his friend had left about needing a place to crash. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was tonight. Sighing, he carried Buffy into his room and laid her on the bed. He removed the jacket and swallowed hard at the sight of her naked chest. He was definitely right about her having the nicest pair of breasts he had ever seen. The sight of Parker fondling them earlier was enough to make him furious. He couldn’t believe he beat the loser up though. Who fought over a girl like Buffy Summers?
He closed his eyes. Apparently he did.
He quickly retrieved one of his t-shirts and dressed her in it before unlacing her boots and tossing them aside. He peeled off her too big socks and stared at them for a second before he realized they were his. Quickly and efficiently, he removed her old cargo pants and quietly noted that her legs were just as fine as her breasts.
He tucked her into his king-sized bed, then he stripped as always and climbed into bed as well. He thought about leaving on boxers for her benefit and then decided against it. He hated to sleep with clothes on and he was pretty sure her delicate sensibilities wouldn’t be shattered by his naked ass.
****
Buffy awoke with a start and looked around her. She had no idea where she was. She could vaguely remember Parker giving her a drink at the Alpha frat and then everything went blank. She knew for damn sure she wasn’t there. It was too quiet here and it smelled too good. Slowly, she turned over in the bed and as her eyes adjusted to the dark she saw she was in Angel’s bed.
Her hands immediately started shaking and she was sure part of it was whatever that fuck Parker slipped in her drink, but mostly it was being in bed with Angel. She scooted over to where he was sprawled on his back and slipped the covers down to drink in his muscular body.
She never really cared what guys looked like. Not since she was a little teeny bopper drooling over Angel and the latest boy band. Men were a way to survive. It didn’t matter what they looked like or how they moved when they climbed on top of her. But Angel was different. He was all she had ever wanted even before she knew what that was. She realized now, looking over him, that he was far superior to the rest of them.
She freed her hair from its confining braid and shook it down her back before tossing away her shirt and panties. Angel saved her again and she was going to thank him the only way she knew how. She smoothed her hands over his chest delighting in the feel of all that hard muscle before leaning in to gently rub her lips against his. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to have his hands buried in her hair.
The thought took her away from his lips and down. She was damaged goods, but she could please him. She was sure of that. She flicked her tongue over one perfect nipple as her hand slid down his long body to caress his cock. She cupped him expertly in her hand and kissed down his body as he began to react to her touch.
He groaned in his sleep as he hardened and shifted restlessly in bed. Smiling, she laved long licks to the underside of his shaft as he hardened completely. She sat up and pulled open his bedside table. Score, the drawer was scattered with condoms. She was certain a guy like him had to have plenty in supply. They were the extra large kind. She giggled.
She nabbed one and tore it open with her teeth before slipping it over him and then straddling his waist and sinking down on him. She had only done it this way once or twice with Spike and usually he did all the work even when she was on top. She was what Spike called a “dead fuck.” She didn’t move her little hips, he had said.
Carefully, she started moving, bracing her hands on his chest; she rose and fell in a smooth, slow rhythm, savoring him, urging the rest of his body to wake with his sex. She closed her eyes, concentrating on maintaining a smooth, fluid pace. This wasn't like her. She didn't make the first move with a guy. She never took the initiative. Sure, if she owed them or something, she'd let them fuck her, but she never got into it and she sure as hell didn't press the issue.
But it was different with Angel. She knew he'd never ask her for anything. He'd never even make a pass at her. But this was the only way she could repay him. It hurt to know that she'd be his dirty little secret, that he would never admit that there was anything between them. But it didn't hurt enough to prevent her from taking her only chance to know what it was like to be with him. Her life was bound to be hard and short and full of pain. Angel was the one thing, the only thing, she could ever remember truly wanting. She wasn't going to let this opportunity pass her by.
His fingertips bit into her hips, urging her down harder and Buffy's eyes flew open. Angel was staring up at her, his eyes hooded and dark with passion. Buffy swallowed thickly and then licked her lips. It was too much, too intimate. She sat up on him, her rhythm never faltering. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, her back arched so the hard points of her breasts protruded. She heard him groan her name softly and it made her entire body tingle. She shivered, feeling a slow fire build where their bodies were joined. She was wet, so wet, and his movement deep within her body became easier and easier.
One of Angel's hands left her hip, slowly caressing up her body to cup her breast. He squeezed gently before flicking his thumb over the aching tip. She moaned, biting down on her bottom lip as her breathing became more labored. His other hand moved low across her stomach and into her nest of sopping curls. He used his thumb to sift through the wiry hair, finding her aching little clit.
Buffy cried out as he rubbed her intimately, but it felt too damn good to make him stop. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He was still watching her intently; looking at her like she was the most divine piece of flesh he'd ever laid eyes on. Heat rushed over her and her muscles corded as she shouted his name. She was lost in wave after wave of pleasure and when it finally passed, she collapsed forward onto his chest.
Angel twined his fingers through her long tresses, forcing her face toward his so he could capture her lips in an absolutely searing kiss. Buffy could do nothing but kiss him back, ceding him dominion over her body.
Buffy went willingly as he reversed their positions, laying her back in the pillows as he covered her body. Her legs wrapped around his hips and she rose up to meet his thrusts as best she could. Mostly she just savored the feel of him inside her body, looming over her. He kissed along her jaw, nipping and licking as his hips thrust against her in a demanding rhythm.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. The rhythm of his hips became erratic and he finally filled her one last time, grunting as his orgasm washed over him. She held him, both of their hearts beating rapidly as they tried to catch their breaths. But all too soon, he was pulling away and disposing of the condom.
Buffy stared up at the ceiling, not knowing what to do next. Would Angel kick her out? Would he be angry about what she had done? Fuck it. Even if he was angry, she knew she wouldn't have changed a thing.
But Angel didn't look angry as he crawled back under the covers. He rolled his eyes and let out a soft laugh before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "I guess you found the condoms," he said cheekily. But his humor soon faded. He sighed, his expression becoming more serious. "I suppose that's for the best," he said. "You sure as hell don't need to be throwing a kid into the mix."
Buffy stared up at him, quiet for a moment. "The condom wasn't for me," she said quietly. "I'm on birth control. I just figured that you …" She swallowed thickly, looking past him to stare up at the ceiling. "I don’t have any sort of disease or anything," she said firmly. "I do get checked at the clinic. I just … I just figured that you'd feel better about it if we used one."
Angel didn't know what to say, staring down at her vulnerable expression. He was an asshole, he knew that. Because Buffy was right. He was disoriented when he woke up, but his first thought after 'I'm fucking Buffy' was 'thank god she slipped a rubber on me'. Angel opted for saying nothing. He urged her onto her side, facing away from him and spooned his body around hers, holding her tight. "Buffy," he whispered into her hair before drifting off to sleep again.
***
TBC
on to part 4