I'm not gonna push you away, Buffy. Truth be told... [ he presses his lips together for a second. ] If I'd realized that you weren't already aware of what's happened for me, with us--I most likely wouldn't have said anything. Which isn't a good look, I know, but I don't want to hurt you. I know--I'm lousy at it, but I really don't. And without context, I know you probably think I was just being cruel, but the context really is one of those 'you had to be there' things.
I'm just-- [ he reaches up to scrub his hands over his face, then through his hair. ] I'm tired, and I hurt, I lost you, and then I lost Doyle, and now I'm here, with you again, and what the hell am I supposed to do? I could've-- [ a look of desolation crosses his face, a split second before he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, looking away from her so she can't see it. he could've been human. he could've stayed with her, and maybe...
maybe a lot more people would've died, that he ended up helping. and he cares about that, but it's buried under so much pain and sadness right now, it's hard to feel it.
finally, he gives a - frankly rather moody - shrug, still not looking at her. ] That's all, I guess. I'm just tired. And this place sure as hell isn't helping.
You say that now but, what if you fall into one of those deep sleeps people around here have fallen into and wake up with more memories and more excuses ─ sorry, reasons ( she corrects immediately and with bite. ) to stay away from me? ( she can't take being rejected again. even if he doesn't see it that way, it's what it feels like. like he won't put in the effort to try to work things out. he'd rather just bail on her ─ on them. and yes, she knows it's not fair to put the weight of what if on him. on something he, the Angel in front of her, has no control over. (whether it happens or not.) plus, it goes both ways.
any fight she has left in her dies at how broken he suddenly sounds. gone is the light from their earlier teasing, replaced by grief and loss.
not wanting to see him in pain, and wanting to comfort him, she's off the couch and stepping around the coffee table in a heartbeat. ) Angel, you didn't lose me. Not now, and not later. And don't tell me I don't know what happens, besides what little you've told me, because I know no matter what happens between us, good or bad, I'll be there whenever you need me. ( when he shrugs the light from the lamp reflects off the ring on his hand. not just any ring though. the same one he's worn since she can remember. but more than him wearing the ring is the way he's wearing it. pointed toward him, not out. "Wear it with the heart pointing towards you. It means you belong to somebody." he'd told her. and just like then, Buffy's hand reaches for his, fingers skimming over the shape of it, remembering it before sliding her hand under his. bending her head and drawing his hand up to her lips she kisses the ring, same as she'd done the night of her birthday, when he'd given her a matching one. ) Always.
And what if you do, and wake up knowing what I do? Or more? [ he hasn't heard or seen what she's talking about, but he gets the idea of what happens from her description. if he's further along than her, she could fall into one of these 'deep sleeps' and wake up from the same time, or further along even. she could wake up remembering their confrontation about Faith. ] They're our reasons, in our world, Buffy. Not here, where it hasn't happened yet. At least not for you.
[ he understands entirely too well why Faith became friends with Buffy here. recapturing something she'd thought she'd lost - even if she said they'd made some sort of peace with each other eventually, to be able and go back, have a Buffy who doesn't have all that baggage yet... there's no way to resist that temptation. ]
You wouldn't know, anyway. You [ don't remember ] weren't there.
[ he's surprised at first when she reaches for his hand, and then startled that she noticed the ring. he doesn't even think about it, anymore. he doesn't wear it very often, mostly because he never knows when he'll be fighting, and having it catch on something--well, having a finger reattached isn't fun, so mostly he leaves it in his pocket or on his nightstand. he'd found it in his pocket when he arrived here though, and since there's no fighting to deal with... he hadn't even thought about which way to wear it; he'd rather not wear it at all, than wear it with the heart pointing outward. ]
Buffy... [ his voice is soft, and entreating; he doesn't really know what he wants to say, or if he even wants to say anything. he wants to say everything, and when that happens, he falls back on her name. it's definitely not the beginning of him telling her to stop, though. if anything, it's him giving in, completely. she's so good, and he just wants that near him, hoping to reflect a little of it, so that no one can see his own darkness. he's always been drawn to Buffy's light. ]
You really think that's possible? ( she certainly doesn't. when she thinks about the future, the short one she's no doubt going to have since Slayers come with an earlier expiration date than everyone else, all she sees is him. all she wants is him. all she's ever wanted has been him. and once upon a time she was what he wanted, too. but somewhere along the way it stopped being what he wants, and what she wants no longer matters to him. at least that's how it feels.
her name off his lips breaks her out of her thoughts. and though she lowers his hand from her lips, she laces her fingers with his, holding him to her. but she knows she should let go. pull way from him and keep a respectful distance. especially in a city like this, where the road they can't venture down is always just around the corner with some event or party or disaster.
all she can muster up is, ) I should probably go. ( but she makes no move to. she can't. her feet are rooted to the spot and her eyes drift to their hands and she squeezes tighter. afraid if she lets him go that whatever this is between them will break and they'll be right back to where they were when he'd first arrived; angry and bitter and avoiding one another. )
Frankly... I'd rather not think about it. [ she gets mad at him enough when he has already done whatever she's mad about. he certainly doesn't want her mad at him for something he hasn't even done yet. which is why, if he'd realized at first that she wasn't almost-18-year-old Buffy that he was expecting, he wouldn't have mentioned that he lived in LA now, or that they'd broken up. he's never stopped wanting her though, and being here with her, it feels like their 'real' lives have been put on pause. they may not be able to be together the way either of them wants, but they could navigate something, here. no higher calling, no visions of people in distress or demons to fight (no nosy friends constantly telling her what a bad decision she's making). ]
Probably. [ he sounds just as reluctant for her to go, as she does to leave. he remembers not too long before her birthday, a scenario very much like this one, except with more kissing. Buffy needing to leave, him agreeing, neither of them wanting her to go. ]
What apartment are you in? [ he suddenly asks, remembering she mentioned something about being familiar with the Up apartments. It's a random question, but it's something to get her to stay, at least a few minutes longer. ]
Right, no. That way only leads to stress, and well, we already have that in abundance in this place. ( so why add to the list? they can cross that bridge if or when they get there. right now they have enough on their plate with just taking things as they are.
oh, but how she wishes they could easily fall back into the way things are for her back home. where she could come and go from his place as she wants. where he’d meet her out on patrol, mostly to watch her hunt and lend a helping hand if things — demons — got too slimy. and god, she misses patrol. she’s been full of pent up frustration and energy and taking some of it out on him with their fighting, because it’s something! )
Probably. ( she agrees, nodding slowly while slipping her hand free of his. even though she immediately regrets the loss she pulls back and wills her legs to move, turning and shuffling to the door. like him she remembers that morning. but not until she’s facing him again, back against the door and hand on the knob, whispering, ) This is me— ( she clamps her mouth shut, looking slightly horrified at herself for nearly repeating the same phrase. there’s no way that’s a good omen. and the pit in her stomach tells her as much.
luckily his question follow on the heels of her flashbacks. ) Twenty-two A. Just a few floors up. ( a hell of a lot closer than they’ve ever been before. but thankfully not as close as the city could have made them by putting them on the same floor. ) If you ever want to come over, you’re more than welcome to. ( that counts for an invite, doesn’t it? ) You could meet Jean. ( or just come and hangout with me. ) But if you don’t want to come by there, I work at Les Beans, a coffee shop in the Up, and Cafe Leblanc in the Down.
[ how is it possible for someone to freeze, completely and preternaturally go still, and yet simultaneously look like their entire body is slowly cringing? nobody knows, but somehow, Angel manages it, as Buffy first starts to repeat what she said in his memory, before clearly also realizing what she's saying.
her assertion about being close at least helps him settle a bit, as he gives just a hint of a smile. ] I think thirteen is more than 'a few.' [ he's about to decline, before tilting his head slightly. ] Is the coffee good?
( turning her face to the side and shaking her head she laughs at how factual he has to get over how many floors “a few” is. it’s a taste of home the way he slips into teasing her but also being serious. )
Fine, a few few. Better? ( is that a number? whatever. it is to her, and she refrains from literally sticking her tongue out at him. )
Depends. Am I making it? ( she makes a noncommittal sound and shrugs. ) It’s good. I don’t usually make the coffee at Les Beans, I’m actually the manager. ( if he can’t believe it he can see for himself. by visiting her. it might not be the priorities she had back home, it’s something that gives her a sense of purpose. )
I also patrol the Down at night. ( she adds, looking at him a little sheepishly. ) Just in case some of ours show up.
[ he's really trying not to start laughing. the fact she's already smiling and laughing isn't helping. ] I think it'd have to be a few-few-few at least. Maybe another few just to be safe.
[ while Buffy being able to have some sort of 'normal' is all he's ever wanted for her, managing a coffee shop is so far from what he imagined, he can't hide his surprise, and just a little skepticism. ] I am definitely gonna have to see that for myself.
[ the sigh he gives is exaggerated, but he can't hide the affection. ] Do you really think that will matter? People don't stay dead around here, do they? Wouldn't that be the same for vampires?
[ here's a perfect opportunity for her to get away from being the slayer, and instead she's actively seeking it out. it's not an ideal 'normal' life, but it's something. ]
A few-few-few is only nine. You definitely need to tack on another few to come close. ( is this the dumbest conversation they’ve ever had? no doubt. but the chance to make him laugh, even at her expense, is too good to pass up.
his skepticism is met with a look of feigned hurt that he doesn’t believe she’s snagged herself a normal job. one that is definitely above her level of expertise. ) When you do the coffee will be on the house.
And no, people don’t stay dead around here. They come back whenever the newest batch of people are brought in. Doesn’t matter when they die, or what they are, the rules are the same for everyone. ( here’s the thing; everyone else’s definition of normal doesn’t work for her. not as a whole. but she is trying to find a balance here. ) If nothing else I figure it keeps them from hurting anyone else for a while. It’s not like our vampires are known for playing nice. And with three Slayers here, they’ll get the hint sooner or later to behave or else. ( if he doesn’t know about Mel, well. surprise, Angel! )
"A few" can be either three or four, [ he can't help correcting, although there's still a smile hovering around his lips and eyes. the urge to lean down and kiss her shouldn't be as surprising to him as it is. it's exactly this - these silly and inconsequential, normal interactions with her, that scared him so much last year, made him realize he couldn't stay around her. and here he is, actively trying to recapture it.
he sighs a little. ] Free coffee will probably be good, since I have no idea where I'm gonna get a job.
[ he's not sure what comment he's about to make, possibly something about her being in law enforcement by choice, no matter how much she griped about it during her career week--but her count of slayers has his brow furrowing. ] Three?
Pretty sure you're wrong. Two is a couple. Three is a few and four is... a couple of couples, or something. ( there's no changing her mind on this one, Angel. see the way her arms are folded over her chest and the steely look in her eyes? yup, she will die (not really) on this hill.
they seem to be on the same wavelength regarding kissing, because being this close to him would make it easy to reach out and tug him down by the front of his shirt and kiss him like she wants to do. her tongue darting out on impulse, imagining tasting him before she ducks her head, avoiding eye contact while trying to calm the way her heart thump, thump, thumps wildly in her chest.
luckily he gives her a distraction. ) There are like, two or three detective agencies run by other LIERs, maybe one of them would hire you? ( off the top of her head those are the best possible suggestions she can think of. )
Three. ( she confirms. ) She's from really, really far ahead in the twenty-fourth century. Her name's Mel. She's sparred with Faith, but I've only met her on the network. ( at her next admission, she beams a little. ) Apparently she knows of me. I get Watcher Diary famous.
A "few" is "less than many, more than one." [ he tips his head to the side in a small, slightly embarrassed shrug. ] I'm old, I remember what words mean, even if that's not how most people use them anymore.
[ her stance is about the only thing reminding him, stopping him from kissing her, and not because she's got that stubborn look; actually, the stubborn look makes him want to kiss her more. no, what's stopping him is her crossed arms, because he'd have to tip forward, giving both of them enough time to really think about it, and decide that the bad idea was a good decision.
of course, her licking her lips doesn't exactly help, and even when she ducks her head, giving him just enough self-control to lean back from how he'd unconsciously been leaning toward her, he can't stop looking at her lips. get a grip, he snarls at himself. he can feel Angelus in the back of his mind, watching this all unfold, hating the feelings involved, but enjoying the torment of his own making. the demon offers no commentary, doesn't share his own 'thoughts', although Angel can feel him scrutinizing everything with interest.
he can't help the snort at her suggestion, and smiles to let her know he's not laughing at her, but himself. ] I'm... not actually a very good detective. Mostly I just hunt the bad guys, after D-- [ after Doyle has a vision. ] ...after I get pointed in the right direction. [ he finishes somberly.
it's her turn to distract him, and he listens as she talks about Mel, a very future Slayer. the small smile he gives her is full of reflected pride for her, since clearly she enjoys the idea of being famous, even if it is only through the Watcher Diaries. ] Of course you are. First Slayer to survive her line continuing. First to stop an Ascension-- [ ...oh, he's not sure if she knows about the Mayor's ascension yet. He can't recall exactly when they learned about it, or what exactly it entailed. ]
That's dumb. ( she huffs in annoyance. not at him, but at being wrong. and he's not what she's calling dumb. or that he's old and remembers what words are. but numbers and definitions are dumb. ) Okay then mister smarty pants, how many is many? ( she asks, mostly just to be a wise-ass and see if he knows. which he probably does because it's Angel, and like Giles, he really is filled with useless facts. and a lot of important, need to know facts, too.
thinks the girl filled with tons of pop culture knowledge.
suddenly there's a tension, sexual tension for a change with them, in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. it's not just her feeling it, too. she knows if she looks up right now and meets his eyes, she'll see the same want ─ the same desire there, burning just as bright, and whatever resolve she has would snap like a twig in a hurricane and they won't need the city to do a goddamn thing to them; they'll throw themselves overboard and drown together.
as much as she wants to lose herself in him, and him in her, she knows they can't. they're not allowed the luxury of finding peace in one another. so instead she chokes on the feeling until it's safe to look up at him, sadly and apologetically.
which lingers at the mention of, who she can only assume is Doyle, again. her hand reaching out to wrap around his and squeeze is done without thought. she might not be able to comfort him how either of them wants, but like this ─ she can offer some small measure of solace. )
I'm sorry about your friend. I can stay, if you wanna talk about him? If you don't then, I'm just many floors away. ( she smiles, injecting a little light humor into the topic so as not to make him feel worse. something she's done a bang-up job as of late.
like always, Buffy is like a sponge, soaking up the compliment and the pride Angel reflects her way. though with a little more modesty than normal. blushing and shrugging like it's no real biggie. though the former had more to do with Xander than herself, if she really thinks about it. ) I just figured whatever Giles was writing about me, if he was writing anything at all, was that I was a terrible listener and refused to abide by his rules and ascension, huh? ( she blinks up at him, clearly having no clue what he's talking about. ) Who's ascending, or who tried to ascend? Also, what?
[ he almost can't get the sentence out while trying to keep a straight face - and failing spectacularly - but manages to say, ] More than a few.
[ Angel shrugs at the offer to talk, not refusing, but not particularly feeling like talking. he squeezes her hand back though, and when he opens his mouth, with no real clue what he's going to say (but with a vague thought of politely refusing), what comes out is a surprise. ] I think you would've liked him. He was...good. Sweet. And kind of a horndog. [ he adds wryly. he looks down, watching as he brushes his thumb over Buffy's knuckles. ] It was just— I went to bed afterward, and woke up here. I didn't get a chance to— to figure anything out. He had a crush on Cordelia, but didn't want to say anything, because he was half-demon. Also, he wasn't rich, famous, or fashionable, which I think would've weighed against him more than the demon part. He was Irish, and—it was nice, hearing it again. [ he knows his descriptions are all over the place, jumping back and forth without any real coherence, but how do you sum up a whole person, succinctly? ] He was my friend, [ he agrees quietly, ] and I'm not...really used to that. Let alone losing one.
[ Angel shakes his head at her self-observation. now he remembers, she said it was just after christmas for her. before her birthday. before Giles put her through the cruciamentium, and was fired for revealing it to her. Angel didn't need to hear about it to already know the affection the older man has toward her. ] Maybe, somewhere. But even when he's complaining about you in those journals, I bet he wrote about how independent you are. How resourceful. How your being unconventional has led to your success.
[ and of course she had to ask about the ascension, which makes him grimace. but telling her here isn't going to change anything when she goes back - and he knows she'll get back, because he was there. right. ] The Mayor. Ascension is... when a being ascends, transforms, into a full demon. Not the kind you fight now, but an Old One, not tainted with mortal blood. You rally the whole school, all the students join the fight. It's— well, Mel certainly has reason to sing your praises, for that alone. It was pretty awe-inspiring.
( both brows raise and her mouth opens, ready to toss out some sort of retort at him, but all she can do is laugh. ) You're lucky you're cute.
( at his squeeze she makes it a point not to let go. adjusting her hold so when he wants to and when he's ready to let go, he can, but letting him know she isn't going anywhere. so for now she lets him talk about Doyle, a small smile on her face as she listens, trying to picture exactly what his friend might have looked like. which is something a little like Xander, if he were half-demon. considering Angel isn't exactly Xander's biggest fan, she doesn't mention that's who Doyle reminds her of. overall though, what she means to say is, ) He sounded nice. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet him, and that you didn't get to figure things out before they pulled you here. ( she'd add that maybe he could try to get things figured out while he's here, but there's no point. not in the grand scheme of thing, because everything they do here is forgotten as soon as they're back home. however, ) It might be a long shot, but it's still a shot, that maybe the Powers in charge of the city will decide to bring him here. I mean, if they can pull four of us from different points, anything's possible. ( forever the optimist, even here.
blushing at him compliment she ducks her head and laughs again. ) Unconventional is a nice way of putting it. ( she knows she can be a little (or a lot) unorthodox and radical. pushing against the boundaries and the standards Giles and the Council and destiny expect her to adhere to. ) Anyone ever tell you you're really good for an ego boost?
( because he is. and he's also good for making her stomach flip. this time not in a good way. ) He doesn't ascend right in front of everyone, does he? ( please say no, please say no... ) The whole school? ( she preens just the slightest before her stomach drops, because oh, she's got a really bad feeling about what the answer is gonna be to, ) I didn't blow the gym up ─ ( again ) ─ did I?
Edited (forgot to close the html.) 2022-05-04 18:15 (UTC)
I'm adorable. [ said in a completely deadpan voice. ]
I'm... not sure how I'd feel, if he showed up here. [ he tries to imagine it, and can't help the small laugh that escapes. ] He'd probably enjoy it a lot more than me. Encouraged to indulge in any and all vices? He'd have a field day.
[ watching her laugh, he opens his mouth, before shutting it and looking down, and then away from her, before speaking. ] I'm just telling the truth.
[ he's actually relieved to be talking about the mayor's ascension now, instead of continuing to reveal just how much he admires her. although there's still a fair bit of that, too. ] In front of everyone. I wasn't really there until the eclipse - that's when it had to happen, convergence of events, all that. But he was giving the commencement speech at graduation first. Everyone had weapons underneath their gowns.
[ he presses his lips together, trying to hold back a smile, and finally squints past her shoulder. ] No, you didn't blow up the gym. [ the war against his amusement is losing. ] You lured him through the school, and Giles blew up the library.
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I'm just-- [ he reaches up to scrub his hands over his face, then through his hair. ] I'm tired, and I hurt, I lost you, and then I lost Doyle, and now I'm here, with you again, and what the hell am I supposed to do? I could've-- [ a look of desolation crosses his face, a split second before he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, looking away from her so she can't see it. he could've been human. he could've stayed with her, and maybe...
maybe a lot more people would've died, that he ended up helping. and he cares about that, but it's buried under so much pain and sadness right now, it's hard to feel it.
finally, he gives a - frankly rather moody - shrug, still not looking at her. ] That's all, I guess. I'm just tired. And this place sure as hell isn't helping.
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any fight she has left in her dies at how broken he suddenly sounds. gone is the light from their earlier teasing, replaced by grief and loss.
not wanting to see him in pain, and wanting to comfort him, she's off the couch and stepping around the coffee table in a heartbeat. ) Angel, you didn't lose me. Not now, and not later. And don't tell me I don't know what happens, besides what little you've told me, because I know no matter what happens between us, good or bad, I'll be there whenever you need me. ( when he shrugs the light from the lamp reflects off the ring on his hand. not just any ring though. the same one he's worn since she can remember. but more than him wearing the ring is the way he's wearing it. pointed toward him, not out. "Wear it with the heart pointing towards you. It means you belong to somebody." he'd told her. and just like then, Buffy's hand reaches for his, fingers skimming over the shape of it, remembering it before sliding her hand under his. bending her head and drawing his hand up to her lips she kisses the ring, same as she'd done the night of her birthday, when he'd given her a matching one. ) Always.
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[ he understands entirely too well why Faith became friends with Buffy here. recapturing something she'd thought she'd lost - even if she said they'd made some sort of peace with each other eventually, to be able and go back, have a Buffy who doesn't have all that baggage yet... there's no way to resist that temptation. ]
You wouldn't know, anyway. You [ don't remember ] weren't there.
[ he's surprised at first when she reaches for his hand, and then startled that she noticed the ring. he doesn't even think about it, anymore. he doesn't wear it very often, mostly because he never knows when he'll be fighting, and having it catch on something--well, having a finger reattached isn't fun, so mostly he leaves it in his pocket or on his nightstand. he'd found it in his pocket when he arrived here though, and since there's no fighting to deal with... he hadn't even thought about which way to wear it; he'd rather not wear it at all, than wear it with the heart pointing outward. ]
Buffy... [ his voice is soft, and entreating; he doesn't really know what he wants to say, or if he even wants to say anything. he wants to say everything, and when that happens, he falls back on her name. it's definitely not the beginning of him telling her to stop, though. if anything, it's him giving in, completely. she's so good, and he just wants that near him, hoping to reflect a little of it, so that no one can see his own darkness. he's always been drawn to Buffy's light. ]
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her name off his lips breaks her out of her thoughts. and though she lowers his hand from her lips, she laces her fingers with his, holding him to her. but she knows she should let go. pull way from him and keep a respectful distance. especially in a city like this, where the road they can't venture down is always just around the corner with some event or party or disaster.
all she can muster up is, ) I should probably go. ( but she makes no move to. she can't. her feet are rooted to the spot and her eyes drift to their hands and she squeezes tighter. afraid if she lets him go that whatever this is between them will break and they'll be right back to where they were when he'd first arrived; angry and bitter and avoiding one another. )
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Probably. [ he sounds just as reluctant for her to go, as she does to leave. he remembers not too long before her birthday, a scenario very much like this one, except with more kissing. Buffy needing to leave, him agreeing, neither of them wanting her to go. ]
What apartment are you in? [ he suddenly asks, remembering she mentioned something about being familiar with the Up apartments. It's a random question, but it's something to get her to stay, at least a few minutes longer. ]
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oh, but how she wishes they could easily fall back into the way things are for her back home. where she could come and go from his place as she wants. where he’d meet her out on patrol, mostly to watch her hunt and lend a helping hand if things — demons — got too slimy. and god, she misses patrol. she’s been full of pent up frustration and energy and taking some of it out on him with their fighting, because it’s something! )
Probably. ( she agrees, nodding slowly while slipping her hand free of his. even though she immediately regrets the loss she pulls back and wills her legs to move, turning and shuffling to the door. like him she remembers that morning. but not until she’s facing him again, back against the door and hand on the knob, whispering, ) This is me— ( she clamps her mouth shut, looking slightly horrified at herself for nearly repeating the same phrase. there’s no way that’s a good omen. and the pit in her stomach tells her as much.
luckily his question follow on the heels of her flashbacks. ) Twenty-two A. Just a few floors up. ( a hell of a lot closer than they’ve ever been before. but thankfully not as close as the city could have made them by putting them on the same floor. ) If you ever want to come over, you’re more than welcome to. ( that counts for an invite, doesn’t it? ) You could meet Jean. ( or just come and hangout with me. ) But if you don’t want to come by there, I work at Les Beans, a coffee shop in the Up, and Cafe Leblanc in the Down.
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her assertion about being close at least helps him settle a bit, as he gives just a hint of a smile. ] I think thirteen is more than 'a few.' [ he's about to decline, before tilting his head slightly. ] Is the coffee good?
[ what is it with him and coffee? who knows. ]
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Fine, a few few. Better? ( is that a number? whatever. it is to her, and she refrains from literally sticking her tongue out at him. )
Depends. Am I making it? ( she makes a noncommittal sound and shrugs. ) It’s good. I don’t usually make the coffee at Les Beans, I’m actually the manager. ( if he can’t believe it he can see for himself. by visiting her. it might not be the priorities she had back home, it’s something that gives her a sense of purpose. )
I also patrol the Down at night. ( she adds, looking at him a little sheepishly. ) Just in case some of ours show up.
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[ while Buffy being able to have some sort of 'normal' is all he's ever wanted for her, managing a coffee shop is so far from what he imagined, he can't hide his surprise, and just a little skepticism. ] I am definitely gonna have to see that for myself.
[ the sigh he gives is exaggerated, but he can't hide the affection. ] Do you really think that will matter? People don't stay dead around here, do they? Wouldn't that be the same for vampires?
[ here's a perfect opportunity for her to get away from being the slayer, and instead she's actively seeking it out. it's not an ideal 'normal' life, but it's something. ]
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his skepticism is met with a look of feigned hurt that he doesn’t believe she’s snagged herself a normal job. one that is definitely above her level of expertise. ) When you do the coffee will be on the house.
And no, people don’t stay dead around here. They come back whenever the newest batch of people are brought in. Doesn’t matter when they die, or what they are, the rules are the same for everyone. ( here’s the thing; everyone else’s definition of normal doesn’t work for her. not as a whole. but she is trying to find a balance here. ) If nothing else I figure it keeps them from hurting anyone else for a while. It’s not like our vampires are known for playing nice. And with three Slayers here, they’ll get the hint sooner or later to behave or else. ( if he doesn’t know about Mel, well. surprise, Angel! )
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he sighs a little. ] Free coffee will probably be good, since I have no idea where I'm gonna get a job.
[ he's not sure what comment he's about to make, possibly something about her being in law enforcement by choice, no matter how much she griped about it during her career week--but her count of slayers has his brow furrowing. ] Three?
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they seem to be on the same wavelength regarding kissing, because being this close to him would make it easy to reach out and tug him down by the front of his shirt and kiss him like she wants to do. her tongue darting out on impulse, imagining tasting him before she ducks her head, avoiding eye contact while trying to calm the way her heart thump, thump, thumps wildly in her chest.
luckily he gives her a distraction. ) There are like, two or three detective agencies run by other LIERs, maybe one of them would hire you? ( off the top of her head those are the best possible suggestions she can think of. )
Three. ( she confirms. ) She's from really, really far ahead in the twenty-fourth century. Her name's Mel. She's sparred with Faith, but I've only met her on the network. ( at her next admission, she beams a little. ) Apparently she knows of me. I get Watcher Diary famous.
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A "few" is "less than many, more than one." [ he tips his head to the side in a small, slightly embarrassed shrug. ] I'm old, I remember what words mean, even if that's not how most people use them anymore.
[ her stance is about the only thing reminding him, stopping him from kissing her, and not because she's got that stubborn look; actually, the stubborn look makes him want to kiss her more. no, what's stopping him is her crossed arms, because he'd have to tip forward, giving both of them enough time to really think about it, and decide that the bad idea was a good decision.
of course, her licking her lips doesn't exactly help, and even when she ducks her head, giving him just enough self-control to lean back from how he'd unconsciously been leaning toward her, he can't stop looking at her lips. get a grip, he snarls at himself. he can feel Angelus in the back of his mind, watching this all unfold, hating the feelings involved, but enjoying the torment of his own making. the demon offers no commentary, doesn't share his own 'thoughts', although Angel can feel him scrutinizing everything with interest.
he can't help the snort at her suggestion, and smiles to let her know he's not laughing at her, but himself. ] I'm... not actually a very good detective. Mostly I just hunt the bad guys, after D-- [ after Doyle has a vision. ] ...after I get pointed in the right direction. [ he finishes somberly.
it's her turn to distract him, and he listens as she talks about Mel, a very future Slayer. the small smile he gives her is full of reflected pride for her, since clearly she enjoys the idea of being famous, even if it is only through the Watcher Diaries. ] Of course you are. First Slayer to survive her line continuing. First to stop an Ascension-- [ ...oh, he's not sure if she knows about the Mayor's ascension yet. He can't recall exactly when they learned about it, or what exactly it entailed. ]
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thinks the girl filled with tons of pop culture knowledge.
suddenly there's a tension, sexual tension for a change with them, in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. it's not just her feeling it, too. she knows if she looks up right now and meets his eyes, she'll see the same want ─ the same desire there, burning just as bright, and whatever resolve she has would snap like a twig in a hurricane and they won't need the city to do a goddamn thing to them; they'll throw themselves overboard and drown together.
as much as she wants to lose herself in him, and him in her, she knows they can't. they're not allowed the luxury of finding peace in one another. so instead she chokes on the feeling until it's safe to look up at him, sadly and apologetically.
which lingers at the mention of, who she can only assume is Doyle, again. her hand reaching out to wrap around his and squeeze is done without thought. she might not be able to comfort him how either of them wants, but like this ─ she can offer some small measure of solace. )
I'm sorry about your friend. I can stay, if you wanna talk about him? If you don't then, I'm just many floors away. ( she smiles, injecting a little light humor into the topic so as not to make him feel worse. something she's done a bang-up job as of late.
like always, Buffy is like a sponge, soaking up the compliment and the pride Angel reflects her way. though with a little more modesty than normal. blushing and shrugging like it's no real biggie. though the former had more to do with Xander than herself, if she really thinks about it. ) I just figured whatever Giles was writing about me, if he was writing anything at all, was that I was a terrible listener and refused to abide by his rules and ascension, huh? ( she blinks up at him, clearly having no clue what he's talking about. ) Who's ascending, or who tried to ascend? Also, what?
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[ Angel shrugs at the offer to talk, not refusing, but not particularly feeling like talking. he squeezes her hand back though, and when he opens his mouth, with no real clue what he's going to say (but with a vague thought of politely refusing), what comes out is a surprise. ] I think you would've liked him. He was...good. Sweet. And kind of a horndog. [ he adds wryly. he looks down, watching as he brushes his thumb over Buffy's knuckles. ] It was just— I went to bed afterward, and woke up here. I didn't get a chance to— to figure anything out. He had a crush on Cordelia, but didn't want to say anything, because he was half-demon. Also, he wasn't rich, famous, or fashionable, which I think would've weighed against him more than the demon part. He was Irish, and—it was nice, hearing it again. [ he knows his descriptions are all over the place, jumping back and forth without any real coherence, but how do you sum up a whole person, succinctly? ] He was my friend, [ he agrees quietly, ] and I'm not...really used to that. Let alone losing one.
[ Angel shakes his head at her self-observation. now he remembers, she said it was just after christmas for her. before her birthday. before Giles put her through the cruciamentium, and was fired for revealing it to her. Angel didn't need to hear about it to already know the affection the older man has toward her. ] Maybe, somewhere. But even when he's complaining about you in those journals, I bet he wrote about how independent you are. How resourceful. How your being unconventional has led to your success.
[ and of course she had to ask about the ascension, which makes him grimace. but telling her here isn't going to change anything when she goes back - and he knows she'll get back, because he was there. right. ] The Mayor. Ascension is... when a being ascends, transforms, into a full demon. Not the kind you fight now, but an Old One, not tainted with mortal blood. You rally the whole school, all the students join the fight. It's— well, Mel certainly has reason to sing your praises, for that alone. It was pretty awe-inspiring.
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( at his squeeze she makes it a point not to let go. adjusting her hold so when he wants to and when he's ready to let go, he can, but letting him know she isn't going anywhere. so for now she lets him talk about Doyle, a small smile on her face as she listens, trying to picture exactly what his friend might have looked like. which is something a little like Xander, if he were half-demon. considering Angel isn't exactly Xander's biggest fan, she doesn't mention that's who Doyle reminds her of. overall though, what she means to say is, ) He sounded nice. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet him, and that you didn't get to figure things out before they pulled you here. ( she'd add that maybe he could try to get things figured out while he's here, but there's no point. not in the grand scheme of thing, because everything they do here is forgotten as soon as they're back home. however, ) It might be a long shot, but it's still a shot, that maybe the Powers in charge of the city will decide to bring him here. I mean, if they can pull four of us from different points, anything's possible. ( forever the optimist, even here.
blushing at him compliment she ducks her head and laughs again. ) Unconventional is a nice way of putting it. ( she knows she can be a little (or a lot) unorthodox and radical. pushing against the boundaries and the standards Giles and the Council and destiny expect her to adhere to. ) Anyone ever tell you you're really good for an ego boost?
( because he is. and he's also good for making her stomach flip. this time not in a good way. ) He doesn't ascend right in front of everyone, does he? ( please say no, please say no... ) The whole school? ( she preens just the slightest before her stomach drops, because oh, she's got a really bad feeling about what the answer is gonna be to, ) I didn't blow the gym up ─ ( again ) ─ did I?
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I'm... not sure how I'd feel, if he showed up here. [ he tries to imagine it, and can't help the small laugh that escapes. ] He'd probably enjoy it a lot more than me. Encouraged to indulge in any and all vices? He'd have a field day.
[ watching her laugh, he opens his mouth, before shutting it and looking down, and then away from her, before speaking. ] I'm just telling the truth.
[ he's actually relieved to be talking about the mayor's ascension now, instead of continuing to reveal just how much he admires her. although there's still a fair bit of that, too. ] In front of everyone. I wasn't really there until the eclipse - that's when it had to happen, convergence of events, all that. But he was giving the commencement speech at graduation first. Everyone had weapons underneath their gowns.
[ he presses his lips together, trying to hold back a smile, and finally squints past her shoulder. ] No, you didn't blow up the gym. [ the war against his amusement is losing. ] You lured him through the school, and Giles blew up the library.