FEELINGS

Disclaimer: I own absolutely no part of the characters from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer or Angel (I wish I did but…)

 

Feedback: IF I DINT WANT FEEDBACK I WUNT POST THE STORY! (But if you carnt take the hint n r still saying dus she want feedback it wud be a HELL YES!!!!!)

 

Distribution: For all my stuff and some other Buffy/Angel stuff (gallery, episode guide, character file, demon file etc) check out my website. www.geocities.com/slayerandvampirealways If you want this story or any of my work contact me and I will let you know, but please ask first.

 

Also if any of you would like to beta read my work plz let me know.

 

Summary: Ninth in a series. I have completely missed out the episode ‘Provider.’ It is the same as in the show, except that anything that remotely insinuates feelings of more than friendship between Cordy and Angel can be ignored. As in all future episodes I may miss. The same can be said for Buffy and Spike NOT having sex.

 

A/N: I am not intending to completely rewrite every part of every script, if there are parts missing just assume they went the same way they did in the show.

 

*******************************

 

Wes and Cordy are in his office looking through some books to identify the demon from her latest vision. Angel comes in, he is smiling.

“Ask me why I’m smiling?”

“I will because it's scaring me.” Cordelia grins at Wesley and he smiles back. Angel reaches into his pocket, pulls out six tickets to something.

“We... are steppin' out.”  Gunn and Fred join them, arriving at work after having breakfast.

“Morning, friends and neighbours.” Hellos from the three as Gunn sees on the counter. “Are those the tickets? You got 'em?” Angel is obviously excited.

“Well I got to the ticket place and-”

“Oh, I'm paying you back. This is on me.”

“Good morning, Fred.”

“Hey.” She crosses to Wes as Gunn approaches the book. “Did you find out the scary?”

“Eventually -- do you want to see?”

“Yeah yeah!”

“Mahta Hari is the tightest band in L.A., you guys are gonna be tripping out-”

“The only thing is-”

“I said I'm good for it, man -- don't have to worry about dipping into Connor's college fund. Time I saw Mahta Hari at the Troubador, they were the Blinnikov World Ballet
Corps...” He's reading that last part, slower, his expression changing. “What's going on?”

“Trying to tell you. I went to the ticket place and Boom. Tonight only.”

“But... you got ballet on my Mahta Hari tickets.

“This is the Blinnikov World Ballet Corps.”

“He's been saying that like it has meaning.”

“This is one of the premiere companies in the world. And they're doing Giselle! It's their signature piece.”

“This is all like some horrible dream.”

“I think I've heard of them – very ahead of their time.”

“Oh yeah. I saw their production of Giselle in 1890 -- cried like a baby. And I was evil!”

“I think it sounds exciting.”

“Yes, yes.”

“No, no...”

“Gunn…” Gunn cuts him off, sounding more desperate than angry.

“This is not Mahta Hari. This is tutu's, and the guys with their big-ass packages jumping up and down...this is just...” he pauses and turns to Angel. “I will never trust you again. The trust is gone.”

“Oh, get over it. Do we get dressed up?”

“Of course.”

“I'm in.”

“Seeing real ballet, live, it's...it's like another world. Gunn, these guys are tight, and you're gonna be tripping out.”

“Don't be using my own phrases when we've lost the trust.”

“Come on, Guys, working day. Cases to solve.” Everyone fades toward the office as Gunn continues to hold the tickets, lost.

“Okay, but, I'm not still paying, right, 'cause... it's like a nightmare...”

*

Angel is looking over his shoulder, standing stiffly, worried.

“Is it gonna be all right? Is there a stain?” Lorne pops up behind him.

“Relax, crumbcake. I got this soda water working overtime.” Lorne is cleaning a stain off the back of Angel’s jacket. “Man, that little Connor burps like a champ. Mickey Mantle smacking this bit of stewed apricot into the cheap seats.”

“At least he's sleeping.”

“Who wouldn't, that sweet Irish lullaby you crooned, just a hair flat on the bridge but more to the point, Buffy?”

“What about her?”

“I read you while you were singing, you big corn muffin. And I can't say as I blame, I mean she’s all over the place. I know I only met her for a few minutes and she didn’t actually sing but…”

“You're not supposed to read me. Do you think she’s still coming?”

“She's here but she’s not ready.” Buffy comes into the room carrying a black clothes protector. She gives an awkward smile. “Just leaving and a demon attacked, it was messy.” She explains the fact her body and hair is covered in green slime. “Hey.”

“Hey Buffy.”

“Hey sweetcakes. I was just wondering if I could snag your ticket, but you’re here now so I guess I’ll just have to wait until next time.”

“Or you could just snag my ticket still.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind, I mean it’s not hard cos he’s asleep.”

“Actually I do mind, baby looking after I can’t. Shower?” Angel points her to the bathroom. She hurries into it and closes the door.

“I don’t get her, she has a big problem with Connor. I mean he’s sweet right, most women would…”

“Love him, yeah but most women don’t wish they were the mother and most women haven’t experienced heaven. You have to think what her heaven was Angel, was it all fluffy clouds, was it fighting, was it living in Pizza Hut. Or was it being a happy family with you and some little ones?” Angel nods taking it in.

She is standing at the door. Stunning doesn't cover it. The boys are agape.

*

“Buffy we need to go.” Angel is shifting from one foot to the other anxiously in his room and keeps looking at his watch. Eventually Cordelia pushes him so he is sat on the bed and lets herself into the bathroom. In less than 10 minutes she emerges with Buffy behind her. Angel stands and stares as he sees her.

“Wow, sweetcakes you look amazing. How do you feel about us green skinned types?” Buffy smiled shyly.

“Don’t we need to go?” She looked directly at Angel.

“Buffy you look so amazingly breathtaking.”

“It’s a good job you don’t need breath then.” She slips past him and leaves him staring at her retreating figure. She really did look amazing. She was wearing a long black dress. It was very simple, elegantly so. It was straight down with a fitted bodice. The bodice held tiny flecks of glitter that shimmered in the light. She was wearing her cross necklace, the one he’d given her on their first meeting. She had her long hair piled onto her head and clipped so that it hung down her back in shining ringlets. Lorne nudged Angel who followed her. Cordy gave a grin to Lorne before leaving.

*

After the first half the group assemble in the theatre’s lobby. Wesley and Cordy are talking as are Fred and Gunn. Buffy ahs her arm through Angel’s but both are in their own worlds.

“I'll say it once and gloat all you want: These guys are tight, and I am tripping out.”

“They certainly live up to their reputation. Has the choreography changed much since…”

“No. Nothing's changed.”

“Well, it's wonderful that they're able to…”

“No. I mean nothing's changed. These are the same dancers I saw before.”

“That's impossible! We're watching the exact same troupe you say in 1990?”

“Uh, I think he said 1890.”

“Oh. Okay, that's much more impossible.”

“So, somebody wanna tell me how we're watching a show starring people who should have died sixty years ago?”

“Well, it's a puzzler. Are there snacks?”

“So what are we thinking? Vampires?”

“They're not a deeply tanned bunch...”

“That would also explain the precision, and the athleticism. I mean, some of those jumps...” he takes in their looks. “You know, I was cool before I met y'all.”

“Dancing vampires. Who's not scared?” Angel shakes his head.

“Not it. I'd know. I'd sense it.”

“Even all the way back there? With the... panoramic view...”

“Zombies! Or would they be peeling...?”

“Some kind of spell.”

“Possibly. What do you think Buffy?” Buffy snaps at of her own thoughts at the sound of her name.

“Huh?” Angel gives her a look but says nothing. Cordelia and Wesley give each other a concerned look.

“What do you think it could be?”

“Could be?” Angel sighs.

“I figure we better check it out.”

“Maybe after the show we can head backstage.”

“I was thinking now.”

“Okay, but there might be a clue, you know, in the performance, maybe some of us should... watch...” Wesley grins at Angel.

“You created him, only you can destroy him.” Gunn hits the grinning Wesley on the arm.

“You guys go back. I'll snoop.” Cordelia drags Angel aside.

“Maybe Buffy should go with you. She’s not exactly attention girl so I’m pretty sure she hasn’t got a clue about what’s going on anyway.”

“I’m worried about her.”

“Me too.” The lights flicker -- time to go back. Cordelia and Angel rejoin the group.

“Go.” The others make their way back to the theatre but Angel grabs Buffy’s arm. “How ‘bout you come with me and help investigate.” She doesn’t reply just goes with him. Outside the backstage entrance is a big, fat, corn fed giant of a security guard, standing in front of a door marked ‘Backstage. Absolutely No Admittance.’ Buffy and Angel are checking him out at a distance.

“Check out the zeppelin.”

“Awful lot of muscle for a ballet company.”

“You want me to…distract him?” Angel stares at her lower head, horrified by her suggestion. He couldn’t imagine her ever doing something like that.
“Don't be stupid.” Her head snaps up. She is stung, but before she can reply – “I'm THAT guy, and the most beautiful woman I've ever seen is making eyes at me? That's either a bachelor party, or a scam.”

“What did you just call me?”

“I'm sorry. You're not stupid.”

“No, after that.”

“I think I'm gonna have to go with my patented Sudden Burst of Violence.”

“Eh, hold on. I may have an approach that's a little more subtle.” Buffy stands in front of the security guard.

“Say, do you like bribes?”

“Do I ever!” Buffy casually holds up a $20.

“We really wanna go backstage.”

“Okay, see, but that's not so much a bribe as it is a tip. And since I'm not parking your car, there's no way.” WHAM! Angel decks him across the chin. The guy takes the hit and then just turns back and glares at Angel.

“Oookay...”

“And that's just a taste of... you see I really wasn't warmed up.”

“I used to fight pro. And I'd say you're... about to find out... what...” The guard drops. Angel looks at Buffy as she opens the door. She notices his intense stare on her and she turns to him and shrugs.

“You were taking too long.”  Buffy and Angel step inside. They shut it, looking ahead with a certain degree of wonder.

“Okay. You saw the building when we drove by -- do you remember it going on forever?” the hallway seems to go on forever, with many hallways branching off. In addition to being an endless maze, it's very clearly the backstage of a turn-of-the-century theatre, all dark wood and gas lamps, old flyers and random props and scenery scattered about.

“This is clearly a spell, or a time flux or something. I don't think we wanna be rushing in here.”

“Let's get the others, talk options.” Angel is looking back the way they came.

“Yeah...” Buffy turns to look at what Angel is looking at. The door is gone and in it’s place is a hallway which extends forever in the opposite direction to the other. “Works in theory…” Buffy and Angel start to walk. They turn a corner.

“Okay, there has to be something here besides this maze.”

“And with our luck, it'll be a Minotaur or a giant Ms. PacMan.”

“Do you hear that?” There is a faint sound. A sobbing, wheezing sound.

“Someone laughing.”

“Or crying?”

“Or both... Okay, officially creeped...”

“Look.” He indicates a door. It's ajar. They move slowly toward it. He opens it and they enter. They slowly look around. It is opulent clutter -- clearly the dressing room of a turn of the century diva. There is a standing screen for changing, a plush red divan, plus the make-up station, brushes and paints laid out. Buffy and Angel move silently around the room, examining things, touching them -- the energy of the place is very mellow and surreal, and their energy matches it. The room touches them.

They speak quietly. “This is her dressing room.”

“The Prima Ballerina.”

“It's unchanged.” He runs his hand along the back of the divan. Buffy sits at the mirror, picks up the hairbrush.

“She would wait for him here...”

“What?” Not answering, Buffy puts the brush back and looks in the mirror. Unformed questions and half-answers playing through her mind. She picks up a long necklace with a tiny cross-attached, bejewelled and elegant. “It's warm... it's very warm.” She stands and they are close, looking around. There is a slight sheen of sweat on their faces.

“I feel it.”

“Something happened here.”

“Angel.”

“Yes.”

“I want you to undress me.” Angel is shocked and struggles with his words.

“You what”

“It's just another costume. I want you to see who I really am. You're the only one who can.”

“I...” he is trying to fight it. “This isn't us. Buffy, we're...acting this out. Someone is…” Buffy comes out of it.

“Whoah.”

“The energy of this room, it's...”

“Did I actually just tell you to undress me?” He falls right back into it, getting closer to her.

“Is that what you want?” Buffy slips back in.

“Please, I…”

“You want me to make love to you right here?”

“You know I do.” Their hands have begun roaming, touching hair, shoulders, backs... their faces inches apart.

“But you're afraid.”

“What if he finds us?”

“I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of anything.” He pulls her close. They're gonna kiss. Her lips so close to his...

“I'm only alive... when you're inside me...” And kiss they do. Big time. Buffy brings her hand to his cheek -- the hand with the little cross dangling. It swings against his cheek and he pulls away briefly, regaining some of his composure, as does she.

“Buffy...”

“Yes...”

“I'm sorry.”

“No... We need to be out of here.”

“Yes.” They move close again, about to kiss --

“This isn't out of here.”

“No. Right.” They force themselves to the door, always managing to keep in close contact. When they reach it, he is behind her and he moves his arm around her to get the door, she arches back into him, one arm up to cup the back of his head... her voice is full of pure lust when she finally speaks.

“Open the damn door...”

“Kinda hard...”

“Kinda noticed...” He does open it, and they slip out into the hallway. They come out actually catching their breath. They shut the door behind them. “Whoah.”

“That's a fair assessment.”

“What the hell is that place?”

“There's spirits in there. Energy, trapped in time... took us over.”

“Yee scary. Good thing it wears off right away.” Angel takes off his jacket and casually holds it in front of his pants.

“Yeah. Good thing.” Angel and Buffy are starting down the hall.

“You sure this is the way?”

“I'm sure it's "a" way... Place is a maze, I'm just hoping we'll find another room that…”

“Dammit.” She has stopped. He turns to her.

“What.”

“I said something. Back in that room, something important. Do you remember?” Angel squirms, he is very uncomfortable.

“Uh... you're only alive when I'm…”

“Not that.” But she still blushes a little. It hit way too close to home.

“No. Of course. I was just... Oh! Hey! I said you were afraid.”

“And I said, "what if he finds us."”

“She had a secret lover.”

“They were afraid of someone. And I'll bet you anything that someone is the reason we're stuck here. We left too soon.”

“We -- who? The room?”

“It's a clue! Those spirits, or energy or whatever, are still in there so we can find out what happened! We have to go back in.”

“I'm marvelling at the wrongness of that idea.”

“You wanna wander around backstage like Spinal Tap for the next... ever?”

“I'm sure there's other rooms that…”

“All we have to do is play the scene out. Say what they have to say, and get out before... before I give you a happy.”

“What if there is no more talking in that scene? Look, we've been possessed by the spirits of old lovers before, it never goes well.” Buffy looks down, not comfortable with the memory.

“I've got my little cross, if things get out of hand... Hey, it's awkward, but it's not us, so as long as nothing is removed or inserted, it's all forgotten.”

“It is us, Buffy. You and me. And kissing you, it's...It's not something I can just…”

“Look Angel we kissed before, under a spell in Sunnydale and the world didn’t end, we won’t get carried away.” Angel and Buffy are in the dressing room again, they're looking about themselves uncomfortably...

“Anything coming?”

“Uhhh... okay.” She claps her hands, motivation time. “Let's take it from the middle.” She moves into position. “I want you... undress me.” She is completely uninspired and wooden, rushing through it, and he is as well.

“You want me to have sex now with you here?”

“Yes! But I'm scared.”

“But you're afraid.”

“And I'm afraid. What if we, he finds us!?”

“He who? Um, but I'm not afraid of anything.” He takes her stiffly in his arms.

“Only good inside blah blah blah…” KISS! Which is a microsmack, both mouths closed, not exactly act break material. Both wait for a moment -- anything? Angel looks around.

“Maybe it only works the one time, if the energy is…” Buffy kisses the living shit out of him. Buffy comes swiftly down onto the divan, Angel on top of her. His tie is undone, his shirt open. They are kissing, hands everywhere. He lowers himself, kissing her neck, her collarbone...

“This is wrong...”

“Hush...”

“You don't know him. He has power.” Angel looks her right in the eye.

“The power to do this?” She breathes in sharply, eyes squeezing shut for an instant. Angel’s head reappears in front of hers. She opens her eyes there is still fear in them as she breathlessly continues...

“I'm not... Stefan, his power is unnatural. He could…”

“What. Kill us?”

“Worse.”

“Kurskov owns the company. He doesn't own you.”

“He doesn't know that.” She speaks bitterly then. “He thinks I'm his. That I dance for him. He's nothing but a deluded fan... He thinks I love him.”

“Come away with me. Now. Tonight. We'll disappear. Even HE won't find us.”

“I... Stephan, everything I've worked for is here...”

“You can still dance.”

“Can I? I don't... Not yet. Maybe when we're...”

“Don't. Don't make promises.” She takes his head, brings it to her bosom, overcome, near tears.

“Help me... help me not be afraid...” Angel slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders he begins to kiss her bare belly. It is clear by the look on her face that she is struggling, but then she succumbs.
”No... oh no...” She looks over at the doorway. “Oh no!” Angel sits up, looking as well, and is tackled over the back of the divan by a figure in black. They go flying into a heap in the corner, the figure punching Angel hard while he's on the ground.

From behind the divan Buffy pops up, not wearing a dress. She's harried -- herself again. Watches the figure hit Angel. “Oh, thank god.” Angel snaps back from a blow, grabs the guy on top of him and pushes him back, getting his first good look at him: His face is that of a comedy mask, forever grinning. Angel takes a moment to register the creepiness, then hits the guy so hard he goes flying onto his back, off of Angel --

Buffy is pulling up her straps, dressed again -- “Okay, good; so they were probably interrupted by this Count Kurskov or his lackeys, right? So we're done with the…” As she's saying this, the other figure in black, with the face of pure tragedy, is emerging behind her. Angel runs toward her. She ducks. “We're done!” Angel leaps over the couch, tackling Tragedy. Buffy looks around at the new actoin -- as Comedy rises behind her and pulls a sword and dagger. Buffy is trying to get away from Comedy, knocking the screen over onto him, casting about for a weapon – “Little help...” Angel has Tragedy on the ground, is forcing down his sword hand -- Tragedy stabs him in the chest --

“Thank you.” He rears back, knife in his chest, both hands now free to grab the sword, flip it into his hand, pull the knife free and while stabbing Tragedy in the heart throwing the knife without even looking -- whip pan -- THWUNK! Right in the throat of Comedy. Buffy comes to Angel. “You all right?”

“Yeah. We gotta move.”

“You think they're not dead?”

“You just looked really hot doing that.” Angel suddenly realises what she’s talking about.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Run.” They head for the door. Angel and Buffy join Fred and Gunn just as she is helping him up. They are both a little giddy, though still serious.

“You guys all right?”

“Charles got stabbed.”

“Couple of stitches worth.” Angel notices Tragedy.

“Same guys that attacked us.”

“Any idea where we are, or what the Hell?”

“Yeah. Buffy and I hit a kind of mystical hot spot. In one of the dressing rooms.”

“Seems like the Prima Ballerina had a lover back in the day, and there was a Count Kurskov who owned the company. I guess he had a thing for the girl, and they were mightily afraid of him.”

“He had power of some kind...”

“He's a Wizard.” Wesley enters, with Cordelia behind him. “He was obsessed with the girl. When he found her with the other man, he went insane with jealous rage. Pulled her out of time, out of any reality beyond his theatre, his company. He swore she would dance for him forever.”

“How did you…”

“We hit a hot spot, too.”

“And now we're stuck here?”

“Well... this kind of temporal shift can't just exist, it has to be maintained. Takes power and concentration. If we can overload him somehow, we might be able to slip back to the real world.”

“Man with a plan.”

“Great. So how do we overload him?”

“Well, I imagine that requires some energy...” He indicates the side of the room, where Tragedy has risen again and is shaking, splitting... and becoming two Tragedies.

Before they can get their bearings, Angel steps up and grabs them both in separate headlocks, jerking his arms up and snapping their necks. They drop to the ground -- and begin to shake as they did before. Wesley looks down the corridor, coming towards them are two Comedies.

“The more we kill, the more he makes.”

“Look!” A wall, which is old, briefly shimmers and becomes modern. Then back.

“And that's draining his energy. Angel, you try to find a way towards the stage. The Count will be watching.”

“I bet he has a box...”

“Find his power source and destroy it. We'll do our best to loosen his hold.”

“By making more monsters. Man with a frightening plan.”

“We have a Slayer with us, we’ll be fine. Angel, go.” More are approaching. The gang weapons up while Angel takes off, pausing to roundhouse a Comedy in the face.

“Back here. They can't surround us.” The group heads for a corner slightly boxed in with scenery. Wesley turns to Fred and Gunn.

“You two. Stay close together.” He turns back to the approaching group, now five strong. “Buffy can you take point?” As she punches one of the Comedies in the face she turns back to the group.

“You know this is meant to be a vacation for me.”

“Hope you on vacation means you’re in a killin' mood.”

“I should do all right.” She knocks a sword aside and stabs.

*

Angel comes around a corner, looks back -- not sure where he is. A Comedy goes flying against a wall, head cracking. Angel sees a wall shimmer -- beyond it is the stage, seen from behind. Without hesitating he dives through the 'hole', which closes back up right after. Angel is in the corner. He sees the performers on stage, still dancing. Some of them leap off the stage and as they do they simply disappear, reappearing as they re-enter the scene. Angel's eye is drawn to the front of the wings, where there is one person standing quietly. It is the Prima Ballerina, waiting for her cue.

“Hello...” She is startled.

“Who are you? There's no one...you're new.”

“I'm pretty old, actually. I've seen you dance.” As they speak, she barely turns to him, always keeping ready to go back on.

“Everyone sees me.”

“It was Giselle then as well.”

“Always.”

“I know what's happening. Count Kurskov, he's punishing you.” He follows her look to see The Count in his box on the other side of the stage.

“He made me. He owns me. When I dance, it's only for him.”

“Do you believe that?”

“It really doesn't matter. I'll dance, I'll wait here, then I'll dance again. That's all.”

“A hundred years, doing the same piece every night... is that enough? What about Stefan?” The name affects her.

“I waited too long. I should have gone when he asked me, should have disappeared. But I wanted this, this dance, this... I hesitated and I lost everything that mattered. Now all I do is wait.”

“You dance...” She takes a moment before explaining.

“There's a section in the first act, during the courtship dance, where my foot slips. My ankle is turned, and I don't quite hold... every time. He doesn't notice. He doesn't even know ballet that well. But always, at that same moment, I slip.” Finally, she turns to him. “It isn't just the same ballet. It's the same performance. I don't dance. I echo.” She turns back to the stage. “Please... can you make it stop?” Angel puts his hand out on the stage but it disappears. He pulls it back. Looks up at The Count, at the Dancer.

“I can help you. But you have to do something.”

“What?”

“You have to change the ending. Dance something new.”

“I can't...” Angel sees a wall of ropes and old-fashioned levers becomes a modern wall with electric equipment.

“He doesn't control all this. He's losing it. But you have to take the stage.” He comes closer to her. “It's not too late. You can change things.” He pauses as he thinks about what he just said. She looks at him realising he has lost love like she has.

“So can you.” He smiles sadly. She looks at him in fear ad then rushes on stage. She dances toward a waiting gentleman -- then stops, changes the choreography, moves away. The man simply fades into nothingness. In his box The Count rises, freaking. The Dancer does the same thing, making another phantom dancer fade away. Angel sticks his hand on stage. It doesn't disappear. Angel runs, crossing the stage and leaping into the box.

“Hey, where's your power centre?”

“How dare you…”

“I'll guess.” He punches The Count right in his bejewelled medal, shattering the stone and staggering The Count as a flash of light bursts momentarily from the broken jewel. Angel looks on stage, where the Dancer is alone. She looks at him gratefully, then lays herself out in a graceful bow, fading as she does. The audience. Confusedly, they slowly begin to applaud. The Count is nearly having a heart attack, clutching his chest.

“You've no right...”

“Save it.”

“She was... she was my love... she danced.... for me...”

“Yeah. You love her that much?” He punches him again, sending sprawling into his seat, where he labours for breath... “Start a website.” Angel walks disgustedly away.

*

The gang has returned. Wes is sewing up Gunn, who is being as manly as possible. Fred is helping.

“You should clean it. Do you need anything for the pain?” Gunn looks at Fred.

“What pain?” They share a smile that Wesley does not comment on. Gunn heads to the bathroom. Angel is sat staring out into the garden of the hotel. There Buffy is sat staring up at the stars. He decides to go out to talk to her.

“Remember the first time we did this?”

“What?”

“Sat looking at the stars. I mean all the time I spent out at night and never once until that day had I ever laid back and looked at the stars.”

“I remember.”

“I remember what I told you. It’s not working.” Angel sat beside her.

“Buffy…um…”

“You know, we should probably just not talk about our little adventure. Anything that might have been seen, anything that might have been, oh, perky…”
“I just wanna pretend it never happened.”

“Exactly.”

“Wipe it from my memory.”

“Like everything else between us.”

“Buffy talk to me.”

“What about?”

“All of it, please you’ve never shut me out before, don’t start now.” She stands and looks up, like she’s trying to find the strength she needs.

“I’m not going back to Sunnydale, not for a while anyway.” She turns to see the happy look on his face. “I’m not staying here either.” He jumps up then.

“Where are you going?” She shakes her head. The night is cool against her skin and she begins to rub her arms.

“Don’t know but I can’t go there and I can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t belong there. And I definitely don’t belong here.” Angel slips his jacket off and places it round her shoulders.

“You belong with me.” She looks up at him.

“No I don’t. I belong up there but that isn’t really an option right now so…”

“Buffy I can help you.”

“Maybe I need to help myself.”

“I told you before you don’t have to face it alone.” Buffy stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips.

“Not all of it, just some of it. I promise that when I have done whatever the hell it is I need to do…that you’ll be the first person I come to. You can count on it.” She walked past him.