The following morning it took Angel almost five full minutes to realize that the pounding wasn't actually his brain trying to break through the top of his skull. "Fuck. Off!" he yelled, then instantly regretted it, clutching his head. But the pounding didn't stop.
Bleary eyed and about as amenable as a bear with one foot in a trap, he stalked to the door and yanked it open.
"Buffy?" he said lamely.
She smiled brightly at him, but as she looked him over from head to foot, the smile died. "Jesus Christ, Angel," she swore. "You look like shit."
"Yeah, well," he blustered, trying to think up some excuse. But she was right. He did look like shit. He wilted, slouching against the door. "What do you want, Buffy?" he asked quietly.
"I want you to go take a shower," she said. "And then I want you to put on some clean clothes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm taking you out for breakfast," she informed him.
His stomach roiled at the thought. "Buffy, I don't really think …"
"I don't care what you think," she informed him curtly. "It isn't up for discussion. Go. Shower."
Despite feeling like death warmed over, Angel dutifully trudged to the shower. While he was trying not to die in the bathroom, Buffy grimaced, looking over his apartment. Good gods, he'd trashed the place. Rolling her eyes, she opened up the sliding glass doors that led out to the small balcony. The place smelled like a bar. She snagged a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and began tossing pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, cigarettes, fast food wrappers. She waited until the shower cut off before she started the load of laundry she had put together from the clothes scattered all over the apartment. One load would get him started, but it would probably take another six or seven to wash everything. The sheets probably needed to be burned.
Angel stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Buffy was careful to keep her expression neutral, but inside she was in turmoil. How could someone look so awful and so damn good all at the same time?
"Buffy," he said wearily. He honestly didn't know if he could do this. Working at her house was one thing, but sitting down and having a civilized breakfast with her like they were … like they were fucking FRIENDS might just kill him. "I don't know if we should do this."
"Really?" she said skeptically. "Well, good thing for you I do know. I know we're going to go to breakfast, now go get changed."
He looked around the apartment and his expression became sheepish. "Buffy, you shouldn't have picked up, really - "
"Turnabout is fair play, Angel," she said firmly. "You took care of me when I needed it, now I’m taking care of you."
Nodding curtly, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of the friends discussion, he went to his room and managed to find a pair of clean pants and a shirt. Miraculously, they matched each other. As he was dressing, Buffy continued to clean the apartment. She made piles of dirty clothes that would be his next loads of laundry, then got out his cleaning supplies and started to do a once over with antibacterial spray.
When he came out, she smiled at him. “Much better,” she said, crossing to the sliding glass doors. “I’m closing these but when we get back you should open them again and air this place out. It smells horrible in here.”
“Buffy…” Angel started, unsure of what was going on.
“Come on,” she said. “Get your keys. Are you too hung over to drive?”
“No, but-“
“Good, let’s go then,” she prompted holding the door open expectantly. She followed him out to the car and climbed in beside him. They headed over to the greasy spoon that the college kids like to frequent because it was cheap and open twenty-four hours.
Once they ordered and had received their coffee, Angel stared into his like he expected it to talk to him rather than the beautiful girl across the table. He didn’t want to do this, couldn’t just be her friend. He’d rather rack himself with a hammer than pretend he didn’t love her. It was fucking ridiculous.
Just as he was working up the balls to tell her that, she spoke. “I love you, Angel,” she said quietly. “I love you so much I wanted to kill you when I saw you at that party.”
“Buffy, I-“
“Shut up,” she snapped. “I know you love me too. I know you want me back and I wish I could just erase what happened and be with you, but I can’t.”
“I see,” he grunted, taking a drink of the bitter, overly strong coffee the diner served.
“You made me feel like I was nothing, like I was a useless whore,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought things were going to be different because I loved you so much, but they were worse. No one in my life has ever hurt like you did. Not even Ethan was able to hurt me that badly because I didn’t love him, but gods, I loved you. I would have done anything for you, Angel. Anything except sit in the dark and be your whore.”
“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Angel said. “If I could take it back, I would. I love you so much. I know I fucked up, but it was me, not you, that was the problem.”
“I know that,” she clipped. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
He hung his head and nodded, looking into his coffee cup.
“But you’re my asshole and I love you,” she said quietly. “And I’m willing to start over, if you want to try.”
Angel’s head snapped up and he scooted out of his booth seat and crossed over to hers. Sliding in beside her, he pulled her into his arms and crushed her to him. “I swear I’ll make it up to you, Buffy.”
They ignored the people around him as they clung together. The waitress came with their food and set it down, but they didn’t even notice it was there. After long minutes, they pulled back enough to look at each other and kissed softly. Finally, he made his way over to his own seat again and felt like a new man. Ravenously, he dug into his breakfast.
Buffy sat back, grinning like and idiot and sipping her coffee as she watched him. She'd always wondered before why Angel watched her eat, but now she sort of got it.
***
"Okay," Buffy said, handing Angel a swiffer duster, "now get the top of the television and then the bookcase."
He stared at her in undisguised irritation. After going back to his place after breakfast, she'd re-opened the patio doors, started another load of laundry and cleaned the kitchen. While he appreciated the effort, he didn't want to clean. He didn't want a dust free environment. He wanted smoochies and - god willing - make up sex.
She smiled at him. "Go, Angel," she said. "I'm going to change the sheets on the bed."
She had stripped the old sheets and managed to get the clean fitted sheet on before he attacked her. Buffy was shocked he waited that long. With a shriek of delight, she tumbled across the bed with him. Laughing, she tried to get away. "We're supposed to meet the guys over at my house at noon," she said. "We don't have time for this."
He pinned her to the bed, sucking on her earlobe. "Fuck Gunn and Lindsey," he bit out, stripping her shirt over her head. “I’ve been waiting months for you,” he said as he kissed down her neck and shoulder. “They can wait an hour…or two.”
She giggled as he tried to keep his mouth on her nipple and remove his clothes at the same time. He finally managed to free his cock from his jeans and pull off her pants and panties. Seconds later he was inside her and he hissed in pleasure as he was in engulfed in her tight, wet heat. He groaned and buried his face in her neck, moving in short, hard thrusts.
“You forgot the condom,” Buffy panted, wrapping her legs around his waist. She had no interest whatsoever in having him stop. It had been so long and he felt so good. She never stopped taking birth control just in case she had a weak moment.
“I didn’t forget,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows and looking into her eyes. “I should have trusted you a long time ago. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed her gently as he slowed his moments, gliding in and out of her wet heat. When he pulled back from her lips, he saw the tears welling in her eyes.
“I love you, Angel,” she sniffled, holding him more tightly.
“I love you too, Buffy,” he whispered, kissing the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.
Angel clenched his jaw as he moved inside her willing himself to last longer, but he knew that it had been too long and she felt so fucking good. Being inside her for the first time with nothing between them made sex that was already fantastic, absolutely heavenly. He reached between them and manipulated her clit until she was bucking in release and then he joined her with a cry of pleasure.
When they both had recovered he rolled over on his back, taking her with him. She nestled on top of his chest and listened to his heartbeat as he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close to him.
“We should get dressed and go over to the house,” she mumbled, making no effort to move.
“Can’t we call and cancel?” he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.
“No,” she answered with a sigh. “We’ve been making great progress and I want to keep up the momentum while I have help.”
“Fine, you little slave driver,” he groaned. “I’ll work.”
***
Gunn and Lindsey were hefting a load of furniture into the back of Lindsey's truck, bound for the dump, when Buffy and Angel arrived together. At Angel's obvious good mood - hell the man was whistling and Buffy half expected him to break out into song at any moment - both Gunn and Lindsey set a speculative gaze upon her. Gunn merely laughed, but Lindsey rolled his eyes in disgust.
For the most part, Buffy tried to pretend that nothing was different. She knew they weren't fooling anyone. Angel had gone from silent and morose to chipper in one night. Plus, they'd arrived together late. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
Buffy wasn't trying to hide the fact that they were on much improved terms, but she did feel that maybe they should be a little more subtle. Around three, when Angel peeled off his t-shirt and everyone saw the fresh scratch marks on his back, she blushed bright red.
Buffy was in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to take the sink apart when Lindsey came in. He leaned against the wall, watching her with quiet intent.
Knowing she couldn't ignore him much longer, Buffy brushed off her hands and turned to face him. "Yes?"
"Are you happy?" he asked.
She nodded. "Very."
He shrugged. "That's all I needed to know," he said, turning to leave.
“Lindsey,” Buffy said, halting his retreat. Slowly, he turned around again. “It’s not ...” she started and fell silent. “I love him,” she said. “We’re not back together again, but I couldn’t stand to leave things the way they were.”
“You’re not back together,” Lindsey said skeptically. “So what is up between you two?”
“Nothing,” Buffy said. “We’re just friends.”
“Just friends,” he repeated quietly. “Does Angel know that?”
Buffy bit down on her bottom lip. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“You know he doesn’t know, Buffy,” Lindsey said quietly. “One look at his face and I can tell.”
“Look,” she said, faltering slightly and then taking a deep breath. “He never made a commitment to me, okay? Never. He never even admitted that he was fucking me.”
“I told you he doesn’t deserve you,” he said, cupping her cheek without thinking. Realizing what he had done, he dropped his hand from her face and backed away. He turned to make his way out of the room and saw Angel in the doorway. Glaring at his former friend, he headed out of the room.
Lindsey had made it all the way back to Buffy’s bedroom, which he was painting almond white, when he heard Angel’s big feet clomping up the stairs after him. He started painting right away, but concentrated on the footsteps coming up behind him. He didn’t turn as he felt Angel’s glare in the back of his head.
“I don’t have to tell you to stay away from her, do I?” Angel ground out carefully.
“No,” Lindsey said with a chuckle before turning around, paintbrush poised in mid air, “Do I have to tell you that it’ll be a miracle if you don’t fuck this up?”
“I won’t,” Angel snapped. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” Lindsey said. “But make sure you walk the line, but if you slip up, I’m going to be there to catch her.”
***
Angel was still stinging from Lindsey's comment. He had no doubt that Lindsey would love to hook up with Buffy, partly to spite him and partly because Linds really did like Buffy. It was a win win situation for that son of a bitch. He dragged a hand through his hair, knowing that it was a bad time to push the situation. He and Buffy were on very tenuous ground and he didn't need to escalate matters. But he couldn't leave it be.
She was outside surveying the back yard when he found her. Her bright smile died as she noted the scowl on his face. "Problem?" she asked.
Against his better judgment, the words spilled from his lips. "What is going on between us?" he demanded.
Buffy frowned and took a deep breath. "We decided to start over again," she said.
"That's what I thought too," he said. "So why exactly was Lindsey pawing you in the kitchen?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him with unbridled irritation. "Lindsey was not pawing me," she said. "He's my friend. And when I said 'start over', I mean it, Angel. I want to start over. From the very beginning. You don't just get to apologize and then have me back at your apartment like some damn house pet."
He opened his mouth to proclaim the injustice, but thought better of it. He snapped his mouth shut. Releasing a taut breath, he dragged a hand through his hair. He looked at her, trying to lock down his emotions. "I won't share you," he said.
"Good," she replied tightly. "Because I don't share me either. What happened this afternoon, Angel … it was … We shouldn't have rushed things like that."
"What does that mean?" he demanded. "Now you're breaking things off with me again? What, you going to take Lindsey for a test drive now?"
Buffy's posture went absolutely rigid. She glared at him for a few moments before brushing past him into the house. "Follow me," she ordered.
He did as she said and followed her upstairs into the hallway, one of the few places they hadn't started replacing drywall yet. She stopped in front of one particularly nasty dent in the wall.
"I know that your family is rich and your mother is a saint. I know that you were wanted and loved your entire life. But I really need you to understand that not everyone had that," she said firmly.
Angel swallowed thickly, but remained silent.
"This dent," she said, "is from the back of my head being shoved into the wall." Tears glittered in her eyes, but she refused to stop talking. "Ethan was drunk and pissed about who knows what. He slammed me into the wall, beat the crap out of me. He was wearing his college ring and he punched me in the mouth so hard, I got this." She gently touched the scar that bisected her lips. "Then, when I was coughing up blood and fighting to remain conscious, he raped me and just left me naked and bleeding on the floor like a piece of trash."
Angel stared at her, completely at a loss for what he could possibly say or do.
"I was fourteen years old, Angel," she said in a harsh whisper, tears running down her cheeks. She cleared her throat, backing up several steps and looking at him. "I know that you want what you want," she said. "But right now, I have to take care of me. I have to get my life and my emotions sorted out before I even begin to deal with you or Lindsey. So please save the macho bullshit."
***
When Buffy came home late Friday afternoon, Angel was sitting on the stairs in front of her apartment, waiting. He was holding a book and pretending to read it, feigning casualness. She looked over him as she climbed the stairs. She wanted so much to be strong during this new stage in her life.
“Hey,” he said, giving her a nervous smile. She sat down next to him on the step and echoed his greeting.
“I’ve been thinking about this friends thing,” he said, setting his unread book aside.
“Yeah?” she said, looking out into the street.
“I don’t know the rules exactly,” he said awkwardly. “Can I…can I touch you? Is it wrong to want to kiss you and hold you?” Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.
“Let’s just take it one day at a time, okay?” she said, leaning to shove his shoulder with hers. “What do you and Doyle do when you’re just hanging out?”
“Drink beer,” he said, laughing.
“Okay,” she said, “After we finish working on the house tonight, let’s go get a beer. We can talk about football and women.”
Chuckling, he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “Baby, you aren’t a good enough friend of mine to talk about football.”
She laughed out loud and bounded up the stairs. “Are you going to give me a ride to the house?”
“You going to pay me gas money?” he grunted, in pure male fashion.
***
Four weeks later, the house was pretty much finished. It didn’t even look like the same place, which made Buffy want to weep with joy. The walls were freshly painted, a lot of the counters and baseboards and odds and ends were new. There were still a few things that needed to be fixed. The door to her bedroom still needed to be replaced, Angel promised to finish it on Saturday. Also, she was seriously lacking in furniture.
Sometime over the last few weeks, Buffy had come to the realization that she was really going to be a homeowner. All of this hard work, unlike at the Hyperion, was for her. When she got done she was going to have a kick ass house.
A kick ass house that she couldn’t afford to maintain. It had hurt the first time she realized that. The house had been paid off years ago, but after getting current on the back taxes and all the renovations, she was broke again. The house would still need a few repairs and then there were the monthly bills: gas, electric, water, trash, cable. Not to mention the little odds and ends that would need to be taken care of. What if a water pipe burst? And what about groceries? Between the house and school, there was no way she could keep it up. But she also couldn’t bear the thought of selling it.
So ... roommates. It was the only way to go. There were three bedrooms and the basement. Buffy figured if she could get a roommate or two, that their rent, plus splitting the bills would mean she might not have to get a job while she struggled with her college coursework.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Gunn said with a smile. They were all having beers at a seedy little campus bar that served under aged girls provided they were pretty enough.
Buffy took a drink of her beer and frowned. “Just thinking that I need roommates,” she said.
Across the table, Willow smiled brightly. “That’s great! Well, I mean, not great that you need roommates, but I’m ...” She looked at Oz, floundering.
“The thing is,” Oz said quietly, “I guess if you don’t renew your lease they kind of want you to move out.”
Doyle groaned, sliding down in large booth. It had become tradition after a hard day of working on the house that they all went out and got beers together. “When I moved out, we told the landlord we weren’t going to need the place again. But when I moved back, we forgot to untell him.”
“We’re homeless at the end of the month,” Oz added.
“That’s perfect,” Buffy beamed. “I mean, I was worried about having to live with complete strangers and then the next thing you know I’d be Single White Femaled, but this is way better.”
“You sure it’s okay?” Willow said, biting her lip. “All three of us? We don’t want to invite ourselves in if you had someone else in mind.”
“No, I really would love it if you guys would move in,” Buffy said, grinning, “and pay rent and utilities and phone and hopefully cable.” She grinned wider and took a sip of her beer, almost glowing from the idea now that she knew she might have a chance at making ends meet.
“Well, if I’d known it was cable that made you swoon, darlin’, I would have tried that a long time ago,” Lindsey said, winking.
“You have your own place,” Buffy said, laughing. “Besides, when I say ‘cable,’ I don’t mean the Playboy Channel.”
“If you don’t mean Playboy, want do you mean?” he asked, blinking in an almost completely serious blank look. It took thirty impressive seconds before he cracked a grin and everyone else chuckled as well, taking a sip of their beers. From the end of the table, Angel schooled himself in the rules of friendship and said nothing.
He continued to say nothing all the way home when he gave Buffy a drive that night back to her apartment. He felt like he was walking on eggshells most of the time, carefully making sure he wasn’t too possessive or jealous or attentive or inattentive. Buffy thought they were friends but he knew that they weren’t. He was just biding his time until he got her back and he was willing to do whatever it took.
“You’re invited, you know,” she said quietly after a few moments of silence.
“Invited where?” he answered, breaking from this thoughts.
“To move in,” she answered. “I know your lease is up too. You can move into the house if you want.”
“With you? In your room?” he asked, risking a glance over to her. He held his breath as she stared out the window, contemplating his words.
“I’m not ready,” she said quietly. “Not for what you want.”
“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “You want to move all your stuff tomorrow? I can put your door on after we get all your stuff hauled over and-“
“I do love you, Angel. That’s not what this is about,” she said, interrupting him.
“I’ll pick up the door tomorrow afternoon,” Angel continued. “I already have one in mind.”
“Angel…”
“Don’t, baby,” he said, pulling up to the curb and leaning over to kiss her cheek as he always did these days. It was the closest he got to her skin, the closest he got to holding her, then he went home and jacked off in the shower. It was pathetic, he thought disgustedly, but he would take what he could get.
“Just don’t let anyone else move in your bedroom either, alright?”
***
TBC
on to part 10