DISCLAIMER: The characters of Buffy Summers, Angel, Rupert Giles, & company are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and The Warner Brothers Network, and are used without permission. The author claims no rights to these characters, and they are used WITHOUT permission.
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SUMMARY: This is just a little vignette dealing with Buffy’s hopes for Angel. It contains mostly angst and a little romance. I wrote this during the period of reruns before "Bad Eggs," so it won't include any spoilers from that. I place this story just before the most recent "Ted," so don’t read it if you haven't seen that one. This is my first fanfic, though, so tell me what you think. You can mail me at Ingrid29@juno.com.
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"The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope."
Samuel Johnson , The Rambler
* * *
Buffy Summers walked down the street towards her house completely absorbed in her own thoughts. She didn’t notice the beautiful red streaks across the sky as the sun blazed in its final glory before sinking below the horizon.
Just as an idea was about to take shape in her mind, she almost ran straight into someone wearing black.
Angel.
"I thought we’d moved past the stage in our relationship where we need to mysteriously smack into each other in the middle of the sidewalk."
He only smiled back at her, and she couldn’t help the corners of her mouth from turning up in response. But she was concerned, too. Angel didn’t seem to know how to rest.
"What are you doing out of bed? You need time to recover from that ritual. I thought we agreed on a week." After what Spike and Drusilla had put him through, a month wouldn’t be time enough, but she felt lucky when Angel had agreed on a week. Now he was out here, probably hunting vampires just looking to get into trouble.
"Buffy, I had to tell you-."
"That something’s up? Don’t worry. I know Spike and Dru are still alive. Giles read about it in one of his books. We’re doing advanced crossbow work tomorrow. Hey, listen- Can you do me a favor? Please come with good news next time- or better yet, no news. I like no news. Now come on." She pulled at his arm.
"Where are we going?"
"I’m taking you home, and I won’t take no for an answer." They walked slowly there, Buffy leading, and Angel trailing behind her, finally getting to his place as darkness took hold of the sky. Buffy walked in and looked around.
"Geez, no wonder you can’t sleep! It’s so cold in here!" She shivered.
He closed the door. "Are you cold?" He crossed the room towards her.
"Aren’t you?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Maybe just a little," he replied wryly, taking her into his arms.
She drew her own arms up around his neck. "Oh. I forgot. You don’t get cold."
He smiled.
She watched his features light up in that instant, and couldn’t seem to get over that angelic face. There was something sunny and captivating about his smile; some hidden hope showing through that gloomy mask he continuously put on for the world.
Hope for what exactly?
A life beyond blood and demons and not being able to see himself in the mirror? A day when he might again see the sun? She felt pain for him, and tried to smile.
Poor Angel.
She touched his face.
He closed his eyes as her gentle hand passed over his cheek.
Again.
His eyes were closed, but he still wore that little smile, affected by her touch. He leaned into the slight pressure of her fingers like a cat. How dark had his years been to make this such a heavenly encounter?
The only sun that remained for him he found in her blonde hair. Every hope rested in the love they shared. It would be so easy to hurt him, but she vowed she never would.
There was still hope-
Somehow-
She looked at him again. He looked back at her questioningly.
Somehow he was-
Innocent. Young. Childlike almost…
She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. They were soft. Warm. She felt him rest his arms around her waist.
Buffy relaxed in his arms. Kissing him felt good, but something else…
It felt right.
He was tender and completely gentle…
like an angel.
She ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. Eventually, Angel pulled away, still watching her mysteriously, as if he could see her from behind himself. She never knew what to make of his expressions. Cryptic-guy was right.
"Are you okay, Angel?" She touched his face.
"I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me."
"Impossibility." She smiled.
He smiled back timidly. She kissed him shortly, and ever so gently, and began to step away into the darkness of the night. Then she turned around.
"No going out tonight, okay? You promise?"
He held up his right hand in mock earnestness. She smiled again. "Goodnight, Angel"
"Goodnight, Buffy."
* * *
So, do I have a future in fanfic? Send comments, compliments, AND flames (if you must) to Ingrid29@juno.com.
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