I did not create, nor do I own, the major characters in this story. Buffy, Giles, Faith, Xander, Oz, Angel, Cordelia, Willow, and Spike all belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I did, however, create the storyline they now inhabit. This story takes place around 1/3 of the way through season 3, before Faith turns evil and Angel recovers from his stint in hell. Thanks to Laur, who originated the general idea for a "film noir" episode of Buffy. The title for this story comes from the excellent movie "LA Confidential." That’s it. Hope the lawyers are happy.
***
Too emotionally drained to think clearly, and unsure of where she should go next anyway, Buffy walked down the street aimlessly, trying to resolve in her mind what had just happened. Of course Angel had come in from lunch when he first entered the office, so he must have been outside in broad daylight, she thought. But somehow it hadn’t registered, or she hadn’t grasped its significance, until she saw him standing in front of the window a few moments ago, sunlight in his hair and reflected in his eyes. Angel was not a vampire. At least, not here. Not now. Buffy’s mind reeled from the implications. A world where they could be together without restrictions. Without consequences. It was too much to process all at once.
Buffy hadn’t been watching where she was going for some time, and she nearly collided with a couple walking hand in hand down the street. "Sorry," Buffy offered lamely, but they were oblivious to her and continued walking. She looked up and saw that they had emerged from a movie theatre, which was just letting out the first matinee show.
"A movie!" Buffy said aloud. "That’s just what I need right now. No better way to escape reality... Or a fantasy gone way out of control. Whatever it is, I need out temporarily."
She walked determinedly up to the ticket window and purchased a ticket for the next showing of "For Whom the Bell Tolls." As she made her way toward her seat, Buffy thought to herself, "Ingrid Bergman and Gary Cooper. Now those are movie stars. I can’t possibly even be in the same universe with those people. What am I doing here?"
Her mind swam with the absurdity of her own existence in this alternate reality. But as the theatre darkened and the music swelled, Buffy’s thoughts focused on the silver screen, away from questions she couldn’t answer.
The first feature was a newsreel. "Yawn," Buffy thought. She didn’t pay much attention to the content--news about the war--but then something the announcer was saying drew her in.
"Trench warfare puts infantry men face-to-face with the enemy. Reports from Allied soldiers fighting on the European front claim that there is something inhuman about Nazis. These Nazi soldiers seem to turn almost animalistic when they become enraged; they kill instantly, without regard for human life. These reports should serve to confirm our dedication to wiping the scourge of Nazi Germany from the face of the earth."
Buffy listened intently. She couldn’t help thinking that the description of fighting some inhuman enemy at close range sounded all too familiar. She had never thought of fighting a war as being similar to slaying before. Sympathy for the Allied troops began to well up inside of her, and she thought about Xander’s USO show for the first time all day. Admittedly, she had agreed to go yesterday due to a need to take charge of her own career. But now she felt a sense of greater purpose, a genuine compassion for the soldiers and a feeling of satisfaction that she would be helping, even if only to entertain them for a little while.
As the feature presentation began, Buffy settled back in her seat contentedly. "I’m glad I didn’t read this book when it was assigned in English," she thought. "I wouldn’t want to have spoiled the movie."
* * *
Much later that afternoon, Buffy returned to her apartment building. As she swept through the door and headed for the elevator, a gentleman at the concierge desk called out to her.
"Miss Summers? You have a message."
Buffy turned around expectantly, hoping Angel had contacted her already.
"A Mr. Harris left this for you," he said, looking under the desk and emerging with an envelope.
Buffy cringed at the thought of a note from Xander. That day’s encounter with Angel had absolutely confirmed her sudden intuition last night that she and Xander could never be more than friends. But she needed their friendship desperately. What if Xander was truly hurt by her behavior last night? Or worse, what if he didn’t get the message and was still pursuing her? Buffy crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.
"Come on, Xand," she thought silently, as she held out her hand for the note. "Come through like you always do."
The concierge gave Buffy an envelope with her name inscribed in perfect script across the front. Buffy regarded the thick creamy paper with admiration. She shook her head in disbelief yet again. What a world this was. Angel was human, and Xander had tasteful stationary and good handwriting. She opened the envelope carefully, removed the single sheet of paper inside, and read.
Buffy, Sorry about last night. Don’t let my being "inappropriate guy" make you change your mind about the show. Rehearsal tonight, Empire Ballroom, 7pm. Please come.
Xander
Buffy smiled and sighed with relief. Good old Xander, she thought. Just then, something else caught her eye at the bottom of the note. There was a post-script.
p.s. Be prepared to practice what you’re going to sing with the band.
Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat. "Sing?" she thought in terror. "Oh, man! I thought that whole ‘song-and-dance-routine’ thing was just a figure of speech!"
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