Title: There is Death in LA Too
Author: Goldy
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer: Well Spike and Buffy aren’t screwing each other and Angel isn’t having sons, so…. I must just be borrowing these characters.
A/N: Well, this is the last for now. This series is in no way done, and I’m sure that I’ll have another amazing idea for it sometime within the next month or so. I really want to get back to writing my Titanic story, which I’ve kind of abandoned in the time I’ve been writing this (if anyone is interested, I wouldn’t mind posting it here). Plus, exams are coming up so… don’t even know how much time I’ll have.
A/N2: My buddy Lindsey didn’t get her hands and red marker on this one, so all the mistakes are mine. I *swear* that girl *never* checks her email…
A/N3: Told from Buffy’s POV again. Oh, and just so I don’t make an A/N4 and bug the hell out of anyone that is bothering to read this… I kinda took some revenge on the whole Cordelia meeting thing. I think I have some suppressed anger towards that character…
Dedication: My beloved Babblers, I don’t know what I would do without you J
Feedback: You *know* you want to…
Rating: PG13

Angel opens the door for me and leads me in by the hand. I can’t suppress the gasp that leaves my lips upon the discovery of his place. I don’t think that I’ve ever heard of any one person living in a fortress this size. But that isn’t the only reason that I gasp. The hotel reminds me of Angel. The furniture, the walls, the lighting, the air—they scream at me, yelling that this is Angel’s home.

Which, by extension, makes it my home.

Angel notices my reaction and gives my hand a little squeeze. I wonder if he even realizes how much this place is like him. The Hyperion reminds me of the mansion except this place is more lived in. I can tell that Angel has life around him and friends, rather than being stuck out in a large place in the woods.

The thought makes me alternately sad and happy. Happy, because he has others in his life besides me. Sad, because he has others in his life besides me. It’s a bad bad cycle.

Angel sniffs the air and looks around frowning. “It’s empty,” he declares.

“Really? Cause I was under the impression that it was brimming with life,” I mutter.

Angel sniffs the air again and I roll my eyes. The man I love can sniff people. It’s kinda funny if you think about it. Actually, it makes me wonder what *I* smell like to him. And that’s probably something that I don’t know.

“This place hasn’t been empty since…” Angel trails off, and stares at me guiltily.

“What?” Somehow I get the feeling that I don’t want to know.

Angel lets out a deep breath. “Fred isn’t even here.”

“How awful.” Angel glares at me, and I feel guilty. But when it comes to us, I always got jealous easily. “Maybe they thought it would be a good idea to go to bed, being about four in the morning and all….”

“Maybe,” Angel says, but he doesn’t look convinced.

“And you were gone for quite a few days. If I were them, I wouldn’t hang around either.”

“They were all *right* *here* when I came back from the monastery.”

I look at him sharply. “Monastery?”

He shifts. Uncomfortably. Good. What else hasn’t he told me? “I went away for a couple months after…” he pauses, and I know that he still can’t say it. “After… you know….”

“Yeah, I know,” I say softly.

Angel grips my hand, and I feel bad again for feeling jealous of Fred. Angel loves me. Only me. Forever.

Dawn appears beside us and takes a chug on her large chocolate shake. “Whatya guys doin?”

“Nothing that involves you,” I snap. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Dawn glares. “I’m trying. But *some* people keep having emotionally fraught conversations in between screwing and fighting.”

I turn to Angel. “This place does have accessible rooms ri…. Wait? I died and you only left for a *couple* months??? How long did it take you to deal anyway?”

Angel looks like he might run away. I don’t blame him. I’m being an itch with a capital b. But I can’t help it. I know that if he left me, I wouldn’t be able to deal and move on. It hurts to know that he is my only tie to life, while I’m not his.

Angel closes his eyes. “Buffy, this isn’t the time. Why don’t we all get some rest and talk about this in the morning?”

“I told Spike I’d been in heaven before I told you.”

The hurt I see flash in Angel’s eyes makes me regret the words the second they leave my mouth. But I can’t take them back now. I can’t take back anything.

“Buffy, not now…” he begs meekly.

“Did you know that I thought about screwing him? It would be so easy to let go… he said he loved me when no one else did.” I know I should shut my stupid mouth before I say something else that I’ll regret, but I can’t. I’m on a roll. “I dreamt about it, screwing Spike and letting go. Did you know that?”

Angel is silent.

I’m silent.

Dawn is silent.

The air pushes down on us. It’s heavy air. The kind that you can feel because the tension is so thick. It makes me want to run away. But I’m stuck. I need to wait for what Angel says. His face is hard, and I know that I’ve hurt him worse than I have ever hurt him before.

“I fucked Darla last year.”

Silence.

Deep, penetrating, soul-wrenching silence.

I stare at him, unable to move or speak. Darla? But Darla is dead, I want to say. I want to tell Angel that he is wrong. He couldn’t have fucked Darla last year, because Darla is dead. He killed her. For me. Angel killed Darla for me. Darla is dead.

With a jolt I remember that sometimes things don’t stay dead.

I blink. Once. Twice. Three times. But my head still doesn’t clear. The words are still hanging in the air. I fucked Darla. I wonder if he yelled her name when he came. I wonder if he promised her all that he promised me the one and only time that we had been together. I wonder if she brought him true happiness.

And there is silence.

I don’t move. Angel doesn’t move. We stare at each other, deep piercing stares, as if that could help us to communicate. And maybe it does. We’re both so helpless, so in love, that we can’t do anything but hurt each other. We’re so in love that we know exactly what to say to cause the other soul-deep agony.

There is a loud screech from the corner of the lobby. The silence is broken. There are words: “Angel, do you have a bathroom?”

Angel snaps his head around, and I’m no longer staring at him in horror. “Why?”

I turn slowly, until I can focus on Dawn, shifting uncomfortably. “I think I drank too much,” she mutters.

Angel shakes his head, as if trying to bring himself out of a trance. “I don’t know where the bathrooms are.”

“How can you not know where the bathrooms are?” Dawn snaps, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t…” Angel looks away, ashamed. “I don’t need to use it.”

Dawn crosses her legs. “I *really* need to go.”

Angel seems embarrassed. And I feel my heart twinge painfully because I know that he is thinking about how much little things like going to the bathroom set him apart from people. And that makes me happy, that I can hurt for him, even when I feel like ripping his perfect head off his perfect body. “Dawn look around,” I finally say, coming to his rescue, “this is a lobby of a hotel. There’s bound to be a bathroom around somewhere.”

Dawn sighs and heads off, opening random doors here and there. I don’t really pay attention, but at some point she disappears, so I figure that she must have found it. I turn my attention back to Angel. He looks guilty, and tired, and haggard, expressions that I’m sure are just as prominent on my own features.

I sit. “I guess that’s some of the other stuff that you haven’t been telling me, huh?” I laugh. I’m sorry for wondering about what else has gone on in his life. Angel looks confused. He watches me wearily, and I guess he’s afraid I’m going to break down again. I bite my lip in an effort for self-control. I am *not* looking to lose it again.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?” Angel asks.

I rub my temples wearily. “Neither. I don’t really want to know what possessed you to screw your evil sire.”

Angel sits carefully next to me. “I was in a bad place. What I did with Darla… it was rock bottom for me.”

“Your soul?” I manage to croak out.

“I wanted to lose it,” he admits simply. “But Darla couldn’t do that for me.”

I shut my eyes and lean back. I know there is more to the story, like why and how Darla was brought back. I know that we will talk about it. But for Angel to be in a place so dark that he actually wanted to lose his soul tells me a lot. Angel is the strongest person that I’ve ever met, and it chills me to know that he was in a place that bad. It chills me to know that he felt what I am feeling.

I can feel him watching my face anxiously. I think that he is afraid I’ll do something psychotic. He thinks he needs to treat me like glass, or else I’ll break. Wearily I open my eyes and focus on his beautiful face.

“You promised me forever.”

Angel reaches out and tentatively take my hand. He brushes a light, feather kiss to my knuckles. “You’ll get it.”

I call on all remaining energy to climb into the warm shelter of his arms. “Not matter what we have to work through….”

“No matter how many times we fight,” Angel says.

“No matter how many times we hurt each other,” I add.

“Forever.” Angel promises, holding me tight.

“Forever,” I repeat, eyelids heavy. The world turns black, and my lips curve into a smile, content in knowing that I’m where I should be.

I feel Angel lift me ever so gently, and carry me somewhere, until I’m placed on a warm bed. I hear voices, hushed tones, Dawn’s and Angel’s. I relax a little more, knowing that he is taking care of her. He is next to me and I curl up next to him, fitting perfectly against his body.

Then, there is no more.

****

When I awake I expect to be greeted with the cool, hard chest of the man I love. Instead, I roll over and find only empty air where a certain vampire should be.

I groan, forcing my eyes open. Light streams through the curtain, making little patterns of light on the carpet and bed like a mini rainbow. I have a moment of blind panic, thinking that Angel has been reduced to nothing but ash. Then, I noticed the note. It’s sitting on his pillow, with a long stemmed red rose attached to it.

I sigh, relaxing lazily against the pillows of Angel’s bed. What a romantic he is. I think about our harsh words of the night before, but immediately banish it from my thoughts. It was late and we were tired. Neither of us intended to hurt the other. I pick up the note. I trace his loopy handwriting with my finger, thinking about the beautiful penmanship that was truly Angel.

Morning Sleepy-head,

Don’t be mad at me for not waking you, but you were sleeping peacefully when I remembered that I don’t carry around food in this old grungy place. Hopefully, I’ll have breakfast done before you have a chance to read this.

Always,

A

I yawn and think about how much I love him. Always, he wrote. I smile a little. Always. I wonder if he ever promised Darla always. But I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to think about the harsh argument of the night before. It’s true what they say: morning does make you see things in a whole new light. I look at where the curtains are open. He probably did that for me, half-frying to death, while being careful not to wake me.

If that isn’t always, I don’t know what is.

I get up and dress. Then, I find a bathroom. The place is huge, and finding a toilet and a sink *with* running water is harder than one would think. Although, I do manage to stumble into one along some hallway, that also has a flushable toilet. I’m impressed. The only problem is, I think I’m lost.

I open the door tentatively and stare down the long winding hall with a doubtful look on my face. If I ever find Angel again, I’m telling him to get a plumber *and* a bathroom installed in the lobby. That way I won’t ever have any more problems.

Sighing, I walk down the path, aimlessly humming some tune under my breath that I’m sure I’ve heard before, but probably wouldn’t recognize if I ever heard it on the radio. After 10 minutes of fruitless wandering, I decide that my case is hopeless.

“Help!” I yell, really loud, hoping that the poorly designed walls don’t fall down. I tap my foot impatiently, but neither Angel nor Dawn appears to rescue me.

That’s it. After the plumber and the bathroom are installed, Angel is going to put signs up on the walls saying what section I’m in, and how to get out of it.

“I really really need HELP!!!” I yell again. “I’m lost and confused, and HELP!!!!”

I hear a noise behind me. I spin, knowing that it isn’t Angel because I would have sensed him from a mile away, or Dawn because there is no way that she could ever be that stealthy. The man coming towards me was walking slowly and deliberately, holding out his hands, as if to reassure me.

I get into an attack stance.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I’m here to help you.”

Right. And I’m a regular human being. I sum him up. He was a short, young, black—African American I correct myself sharply, I have to be politically correct—man, whom I was sure I could take with one sweep of my hand. But I watch him wearily, knowing not to trust anyone.

The man sums me up just like I did him. Apparently he likes what he sees because he gives me a wide flirtatious smile. Oooh, I’m going to get Angel to kick his ass just for that. “It’s okay,” he says again. Like that is going to make me believe him. “You’ve come to the right place.”

I frown. He seems almost nice. Strange. Most people that I meet want to attack me. I look at him suspiciously, but relax a little. “Are you… Angel?” I try to keep my voice meek and girly, how I imagine everyone that needs Angel’s help is like.

The man pauses and seems to think things over. “Not exactly… but I work with him, and I promise you that I will do anything I can to help you.”

I stare at him, and I realize that I’ve fallen out of my attack stance. I don’t think he is a threat. In fact, I really do think he works with Angel. I know that Cordelia and Wesley work with him, and apparently this Fred, but he never mentioned anyone else. Or maybe he did, and I wasn’t listening. I tend to do that sometimes.

The man extends his hand. “Tell me what you need and we will help.”

I raise my eyebrows. I don’t think this guy has had a date in a *very* long time. “What’s your name?” I ask, almost forgetting to sound small and afraid.

“Charles Gunn, but my friends just call me Gunn.”

Is Angel one of his friends? If Angel works with Gunn, then he must trust him. If Angel trusts him, then I can trust him.

“Can I do anything to help you?” Gunn asks, putting as much sincerity in his voice as he can. Huh. Angel is very good at the sincerity thing. I wonder if he taught it to his co-workers.

“That’s very nice of you to ask,” I say graciously.

The man relaxes and takes a few steps toward me, looking very hard in places that I liked to think were only for Angel’s eyes. “I mean it,” he promises.

I bite my lip. I have to admit that it’s sexier when Angel does the whole noble thing. Although, I kinda like this Gunn. He seems loyal. I wish that Angel had told me about him first. Feeling bad for the guy I smile and put away the weak girl façade. “Well, since you ask… how do I get back to the lobby?”

****

As we near the front of the hotel I start to hear voices. I can make out Angel’s voice clearly, even if I can’t understand what he’s saying. There is a female voice that I figure must be Cordy, and another female voice that I don’t recognize. Probably the infamous Fred. They seem to be arguing about something or other, and occasionally a stiff British voice would add in his two cents. That must be Wesley.

As we neared I began to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Welcome back, Angel. Why were you gone for so long, Angel. We have so many cases to get to, Angel. I had another vision, Angel. Yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah….

Gunn, ever faithful, gestures toward where all the people are standing. “This is it.”

“Thanks,” I say very gratefully. I feel a little bad. Poor Gunn had looked very surprised about my request, but he had led me here anyway. And I can safely assume that he is definitely human.

I walk with my head high, and my back straight, right into the lobby. The silence following my entry was immediate and heavy, but I didn’t let that bother me. “Good morning,” I chirp happily, blowing Angel a kiss. I just know that will bug the hell out of all of them.

More silence. It’s almost as if they’re seeing the dead.

Angel is the first to recover. “I thought that you were still in bed.”

I smirk, noticing the looks that are exchanged between Wesley and Cordelia. Let them think what they want, I don’t care. “I got lost. Good thing Gunn found me. I thought I might have starved to death.”

Gunn is staring at me with wide eyes then he turns his attention to Angel. The expression on his face is comical and I begin to take pity on him. Poor guy. Although, *still* looking where he shouldn’t. I glance at Angel to see if he noticed that. The look on his face makes it clear that he did, and is *not* impressed. It gives me a thrill. Angel is being all-possessive.

I stick out my hand and offer it to poor confused Gunn. “Hi!” I say brightly. “I’m Buffy.”

Gunn’s eyes get even wider, and somewhat absently he takes my hand. “*You’re* Buffy?”

I nod. “In the flesh.”

He looks me up and down. “The slayer…”

“One and only,” I answer. I frown. “Is Faith still alive? Cause then that would just be a yes.”

Gunn shifts uncomfortably. “You’re a little small.”

I fold my arms over my chest, thinking about what I could do to make him realize that size doesn’t matter when you’re the slayer. Cordelia (whose head had been moving back and forth in an effort to understand the conversation Gunn and I were having) manages to get over her initial shock at seeing me and steps between us. I think it’s a smart move. I *hate* it when people judge me on what I look like.

“Okay, piece of advice Mr. Macho? *Don’t* make a slayer mad!” Cordy turns around so she is looking and me. Judging. I wait patiently. I suppress a gasp when she throws her arms around me, blubbering against my neck. “Buffy it’s true! It’s really true. You’re alive! Oh, Buffy, I’m sorry for every mean thing that I ever said to you. I’m so glad you’re okay. Buffy. Buffy!”

I look up, scared. I make eye contact with Angel who gives me a helpless shrug. After a minute I return Cordy’s exuberant hug. “Uh, thanks… I think.”

As abruptly as she hugged me, Cordelia pulls back and glares at Angel. “*Why* the hell were you gone so long? And *what* is *she* doing here?” She glances at me, “No offense.”

“None taken,” I say, my head whirling as I try to take in her words.

“Cordy perhaps it would be best if we sat down and discussed this over a cup of tea.” Wesley suggests.

I look him in the eye and give a small smile. “Hi, Wes.”

He nods. “Good to have you back, Buffy.”

Angel glances at me worriedly, but I give him a reassuring look. I won’t break down again and take things out on his friends. They aren’t close enough to me to do that. But I notice things about Wesley. He lost his geeky-slicked-back-gelled-to-the-bone hair and his clothes don’t even look half-british.

He looks older.

Cordelia manages to smile, and look royally pissed off at the same time. “No Wesley, I don’t want to talk about this over tea. I want to talk about it *now*. Angel can’t just go off like that. All I knew was that he had gone to meet Buffy and hadn’t come back. I *DON’T* want another Darla repeat!”

Huh. Darla again. What exactly happened to make Cordelia monitor Angel’s life like she has complete control over him? I wonder if she knows about the whole “fucking” thing…

“And now Buffy is here. Well, this is just great.” And somehow Cordy’s mouth is *still* going. Why isn’t this bothering Angel? “We had to have Fred live with me while you were gone. Cause we couldn’t have Angelus come here on a killing rampage or anything.”

I stare at Cordelia. I don’t care how much Angel swears to me that she has changed, she still sounds awfully whiny to me.

Gunn snorts from behind me and we all give him questioning glances. “If this is really the Buffy you all say she is, then I’m sure that she’s just here to check the place out.” Gunn glances at Cordelia, “You made it clear last night that there was no way these two could ever get back together.”

Cordelia sniffs. “They can’t get back together because HELLO! World in mortal danger.”

I shift uncomfortably and Angel and I share a look. “Well, actually…” he starts.

“Oh, don’t tell me!” Cordelia holds up her hands dramatically. “I am *not* going to hear you name, Buffy’s name, and ‘back together’ in the same sentence. Understand?”

Angel watches my face, gauging me for a reaction. I guess he’s afraid I’ll do something rash. I want to. Why isn’t he sticking up for us? Why isn’t he telling Cordelia to shut her mouth? Why does it seem like he is scrabbling for her approval?

What isn’t he telling me?

“Cordelia,” he finally says, maybe seeing the out-of-control look on my face, “can we go somewhere else to talk about this?”

Cordelia opens her mouth as if to protest, but closes it when she sees the hard expression on Angel’s face. Silently she leaves the room and Angel follows her. I wonder where they are going. Where else can they talk besides the lobby?

Once Cordelia and Angel leave, there are only four of us left. Wesley, Gunn, and… Fred? She seems pretty. Very thin. She’s twiddling her thumbs nervously, or maybe as if she’s confused. In fact, she’s looking around at her surroundings with wide eyes, like she might disappear at any moment. Strange.

I give a little wave, and the best smile I can put on. “Hi.”

She looks around in confusion. “Oh, you mean me?” she finally asks.

I nod.

“Oh… I…” she wrings her hands nervously. “I’ve heard so much about you. You’re very pretty… for a someone who’s died at least. Did it hurt coming back?”

I blink. She’s definitely bubbly. “Umm…” I shift uncomfortably, “I don’t really remember what happened when I first came back.” That’s a lie. I remember every single painful minute. But I’m not about to share that with Fred. “And you are…?”

“Oh, right! I’m Fred.” Fred takes my hand and gives it an effusive shake. So, this is Fred. I feel the old jealousy pangs coming on, but I quickly push them away. I kind of like Fred, sort of how I kind of like Gunn. Fred reminds me a little of Anya, who I had grown accustomed to. I kind of miss her and Xander.

After the shaking and the meeting is done, Fred, Wesley, Gunn and I stand around nervously, waiting for Angel to come back. “So, Buffy,” Wesley says, “how long are you planning on staying?”

I shrug. “Forever.”

Wesley looks a little taken aback, and from the gasps of surprise both Gunn and Fred make, I’m guessing that they weren’t exactly prepared for that answer, either. “Well… that’s nice,” Wesley finally mutters.

Gunn pears at me, thoughtfully. “It will be good to have another warrior around.”

“That’s me, the little warrior,” I mumble.

“Are you sure that you’re the slayer?”

I sigh. That boy needs a good whipping from me. Cordelia was right when she called him Mr. Macho. “I could kick your ass any day.”

Gunn sits down on one of those big couches that Angel just happens to have laying around his hotel. “I think I need to sit down,” he admits.

Fred frowns. “You are.”

Gunn closes his eyes. “Thank you for pointing that out.”

Fred doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Wesley. Or Gunn for that matter. The four of us are pretty much silent. This is starting to confuse me. Is it this hotel that initiates uncomfortable silences or is it me?

Finally, the silence is broken by a high pitched wailing from where Cordelia and Angel disappeared off to. “NO!!! I will *not* calm down! She can’t stay here, Angel!”

I look around guiltily. I wonder if Cordy knows how loud she is shrieking. Gunn, Fred, and Wesley, just shift uncomfortably again as if they wish they could be anywhere else in this world. I’m beginning to wish that myself.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT SHE HAS BEEN THROUGH!!! SHE HAS PEOPLE THAT LOVE HER IN SUNNYDALE!!!”

“I’m going to take a guess and say that Cordelia isn’t exactly happy to have me,” I grumble to no one in particular. I get no answer. I don’t even know if anyone heard. I close my eyes and wish for this to be over so I can just curl up in Angel’s arms.

“SHE IS NOT LEAVING!!! THIS ISN’T JUST SOME HOPELESS SOUL I’M HELPING, CORDY, THIS IS BUFFY. BUFFY. THE WOMEN I LOVE. SO *BUTT* *OUT*.”

Silence from down the hall. Gee, maybe Angel hasn’t ever yelled at Cordelia like that before. I can’t say that she didn’t deserve it. And it took him long enough to get there, too. In my opinion, he should have yelled at her the first time she suggested that I leave.

Cordelia and Angel walk huffily into the room, both looking miserable. I feel my heart constrict for Angel. I know that Cordelia is his friend and that he doesn’t want to hurt her, and I can tell by the look on his face that he feels guilty for yelling at her. Although, I’m full of tension and tight muscles and I know that only one thing can cure it.

First things, first though. “Where’s Dawn?” I ask Angel stiffly, I’m still a little peeved at him, I must admit.

“In bed,” he answers wearily, “still sleeping.”

I shake my head. “She’s a teenager.”

“Dawn’s here?” Cordelia mutters in astonishment at the same time that Fred and Gunn say, “Whose Dawn?”

“Yes. Sister.” I reply. Since that is done with, I can move on to bigger and better things. I look at Angel hungrily. “I’m a little tense….”

“Really?” he responds tiredly.

I nod. “And there’s something I think you can do about it….”

****

“I’m impressed. I’ve always thought about turning my basement into a work out room, but then I died so that didn’t exactly work out….”

Angel gives me a pained smile. I don’t think he likes it when I mention the dying thing. Also, I think he’s a little grumpy from the whole confrontation thing earlier. So, really, my idea is a perfect one considering the circumstances. Me slayer. You vampire. Always the perfect training partner, and we haven’t been able to train together in so long. And I must admit, this basement does make a nice little room for combat.

I glance at a pair of swords left out. “Who are those for?”

Angel barely looks up. “Me and Cordy. I was teaching her how to fight with them.”

I give a little chuckle. “That must have been interesting.”

“She’s very good,” Angel states without missing a beat.

I ignore the jealousy gnawing in my stomach. “Bet she isn’t as good as me.”

Angel comes up behind me and looks at the swords in contempt. I give him a shiver, as I remember running him through with a sword. He lifts the sword and tests the weight in his hand. I don’t even flinch. Leaving my guard open to a vampire like this is very dangerous and my senses are screaming at me to fight him and get out of the way of the weapon.

But my heart trusts him with my life.

I pick up the other sword. And the fight begins. My body gets into the rhythm right away. Angel is stronger then any vampire that I have fought in a long time, and it takes a great deal of exertion to keep up with his moves. He is nothing but a blur to me as he kicks and punches, blocks and swings. I know every move and every direction he will take. I match him blow for blow, kick for kick.

I am sweating and I’m getting tired, but nothing has felt this good in a long time. I forgot what it was like to train with Angel. To know someone so intimately that I can use all my strength against, but never worry about hurting, is a feeling I thought left when he did. I can feel him weakening also, and I know that one of us will have to end the fight soon. I concentrate on the hunter within me and wait for the perfect opening.

Angel’s sword clashes against my own, in a vibration shakes my both my arms down to my shoulders. But I take the opportunity by lashing out in a vicious roundhouse kick that I apologize for silently, and in the same motion I knock his sword away until it clatters to the other side of the room. Angel finds himself on his back with my sword pointed over his heart.

“Say uncle,” I command cheerfully. Angel groans in pain and rolls his head back. “I don’t hear anything…”

Angel glares at me. “Uncle,” he puffs.

I take the sword away and give him a hand up. It’s only then that I notice the audience that we have accumulated. Fred, Gunn, Cordelia, and Wesley are standing on the stairs with their mouths hanging open.

“You’re the slayer,” Gunn breathes.

Angel and I both tick our eyes at him in an annoyed glance, before hobbling painfully over to the corner where there is water and a towel.

Cordelia raises her hand. “Who else votes to *never* make them mad?”

Fred raises her hand. “That was amazing. You were just a blur of shape and colour until BANG!” Fred hit her hands together, causing us to all jump in surprise. “Angel ended up in a big pile on the floor.”

I smirk at him. “So, think I’ve improved at all?”

“You’re strong. Stronger than me.” Angel admits, but it doesn’t seem to surprise him. “You’ve always been.”

I lick my lips, as I take in the fact that he isn’t wearing a shirt, and his chest is gleaming with a thin sheath of sweat. I remind myself to get control. I’m not a horny teenager. I can deal with a sweaty, half-naked, Angel. “You’ve,” I pause for control, “you’ve gotten better, too.”

Angel is looking at me with an intense gaze that I’m sure can only mirror my own. “Slayers get stronger as they age….”

“Really?” I’m not really paying attention anymore. I’m looking more at his lips, the way they curve so elegantly when he talks….

“Ahem!” Angel and I look up sharply. Cordelia rolls her eyes. “Fine. Buffy’s going to be here a while. It doesn’t mean that we have to start going all gagga in the training room. Besides I’m hungry.”

“And you never did make that breakfast that you said you were,” Gunn pointed out.

Angel sighs and looks at me apologetically. “Hungry?”

Faith’s words echo in my head hungry and horny. That girl always did manage to get things down to their simplest nature. Angel moves to put on a shirt, and I try to feel only mildly disappointed. It’s not like we could actually do anything anyway. Although, the view was fairly nice.

“I’m starved.”

The End.

 

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