Disclaimer ... "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" does not belong to me, but to Joss Whedon, Warner, Fox and others. This is non profit making fan fiction.
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Part One
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He stayed near to her, as a protector, powerful and yet gentle. Her guardian angel. Buffy laid her head against Angel's shoulder and let him rock her to the slow beat. His palms rested against her back, unnaturally cool where they touched her skin. No heartbeat throbbed beneath her ear; only silence. No rise and fall of his chest and shoulders with each breath. It didn't matter though that she embraced the stillness of death. He was keeping her safe, wrapped up in his love and in his arms. Nothing and nobody would disturb her while he stood guard.
Angel whispered something to her about leaving, but Buffy found herself unable to respond or even to move. Entranced, she could only allow him to guide her towards the exit. None of the dancers noticed that she was leaving, nor any of her friends. She wondered why, but hardly cared. She felt oddly removed from them now and only Angel seemed to touch her.
Outside there was a breeze, and Buffy closed her eyes and held perfectly still, her fingers loosely intertwined with Angel's. She breathed deeply.
"I'll take you home," Angel said purposefully.
"No - " Buffy said, finding the energy from somewhere to seek out his eyes, and feeling cold all the way to her core - a good chill - until she shivered. She rubbed her bare arms, wondering where she had left her jacket. "Not home. I'm not ready."
"Then where?" Angel soon wrapped her in his own jacket, settling the fabric over her shoulders, smoothing it carefully. His cool fingers lingered a fraction of a second longer than necessary at her neckline, and then fell away. Buffy touched his chest, hearing her voice go small, pleading.
"Show me where you live."
"I - "
"Please." Angel hesitated, glanced back over his shoulder, then at the sky. Only a few hours until sunrise. He shrugged.
"Okay."
Buffy heard the anticipation in his voice and shivered again. Why was she playing with this fire? Angel adored her and would die to keep her from harm. Yet in a moment of self-forgetting he could tear her throat out with terrible fangs and drink her life's blood. Buffy told herself that he would never do that - but she could never be absolutely sure.
A few blocks from the Bronze, Angel indicated some concrete steps leading down to a basement apartment - Buffy had passed by many times and never known that he was so near.
"Down there?" she asked, pointing to the slatted window, and looking at him askance. Angel inclined his head, brown eyes devouring her even as they twinkled with teasing.
"It's blacked out from the other side," he said. "But it makes me feel more human."
His sensuous mouth twitched in a delicious non-smile. Buffy wanted to kiss that mouth - was tired of pretending that she didn't yearn for what they had vowed to put away. Nobody had ever kissed her the way Angel had kissed her.
It was warm inside. Buffy gazed all around her, memorizing every detail of Angel's compact home. Angel was scrutinizing her, curious. Perhaps he wanted her approval. Buffy could only offer a wan shade of a smile.
"It beats a wooden box," he said, wickedly, eyebrows lifting.
Buffy felt herself smile properly for the first time in two days - then laughter bubbled up from inside her. Angel smiled indulgently, taking the jacket from her shoulders and tossing it onto a coffee table. The laughter became painful, denying her breath, and then became sobs that doubled her over with their intensity.
All the horror struck her like a blow to the stomach - the fear of death, the bitter anger she had directed at her friends, the cold joy of victory which had turned to an empty, sick feeling in her guts. Buffy heard herself howling out loud, a horrible wail of helpless grief. Angel just carried her to the bed and held her tight against his chest until it was over.
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