Chapter Three – Spiral
“Would you relax?” Asked Buffy, smiling, “She took him to the movies, Angel. Y’know, afternoon of teenage normalcy? I even think there might be popcorn involved an– And you have a really strange look on your face.”
Angel was standing there, unblinking, looking for all the world like he wanted to go kill the guy who’d made cinema possible. “I– Movie?”
Slowly, Buffy nodded, totally not getting where he was coming from on the whole freak-out thing. If anything she thought he’d be glad to have Connor experience normal, even if it was with her teenage sister who seemed intent on talking about all things Slayerish in his presence.
“Movie. Escape from reality. Ringing any bells?”
Clearing his throat, Angel met her gaze. “I… Remember our last movie?”
Buffy thought about that for a moment, remembered her last ‘supposed’ night of teenage normalcy with Angel that didn’t involve cemeteries, vampires or things that generally went bump in the night. She even flinched– Until she remembered the title of the movie Dawn had insisted they see.
“I remember,” she said, a wry little smile lifting the corners of her mouth, “But seriously, you have nothing to worry about. She’s taking him to see Scary Movie.”
Angel let out a breath, visibly relaxing. Not that Scary Movie was the best of choices for a movie but Sunnydale was behind with the times enough for him to know what it entailed and as long as Dawn didn’t start trying to explain the birds and the bees to his son, he could live with that.
“So was there any reason you–” He gestured round.
It had been a strange move to invite him up here, Buffy thought, glancing at a room that had definitely changed since the last time he’d stood in it. More photos, less girly teenage stuff… Older Buffy. Buffy that had lived without Angel for nearly four years.
Buffy who was still living without Angel and realising her mistake in inviting him down here. “I– We need to talk.” She said softly, “And doing the whole heart-baring, soul-destroying thing in front of fifteen potential slayers just isn’t my thing.”
Angel sighed, barely resisting the urge to grit his teeth and say he knew what this was about. A week had passed since he’d come to Sunnydale. Since then he’d counted at least three heart-to-heart’s with Spike…
And none with him.
They’d talked, sure, at one point he even thought they were going to get to the very real tension between them– And then Buffy had asked him how things were going between him and Cordelia.
His scowl had darkened his face so much that even Buffy had taken a step back, half-afraid of his answer. “They’re not.” He’d ground out, remembering his irritation at finding her laughing with Spike, watching some old TV show down in the basement.
It wasn’t enough that Spike had wormed his way under Buffy’s defences. Now he was doing it with Cordelia too and–
“Angel?”
He pulled his gaze back up to hers when she spoke, forcing himself to relax. “We need to talk?”
She nodded, slowly. “Look, it’s not… It’s not often that I get with the real live emotional check-in,” she started, “Most of the time I’m too busy using what I do as my excuse to not get close to people, not see what’s right there in front of me.
It’s a distraction, I admit that. But… Sometimes, there’s things that I can’t even ignore and I have to be Emotional Check In Buffy. Not– Not Slayer Buffy or Push People Away Buffy.”
She paused, wondering whether he was planning on jumping in on anything she was saying. When he didn’t, she continued, despite his scowl. “What are you doing here, Angel?”
“What?”
“What are you doing here?” She repeated, trying not to smile at the puzzled look on his face, “In Sunnydale? Why are you here?”
“I– You asked me.” He murmured, not understanding where the conversation was going.
“Right, but it’s not the first time I’ve asked you. Why now?”
He thought about that for a second, blinking, and said the only answer he could give without launching into a thousand other reasons. “You said you needed me.”
“Right again,” she nodded, “But I’ve needed you before, much more than I ever did now and you still came running. Why?”
He stood up and began to pace, the muscles in his back corded. The look on his face told her everything. This was a conversation that he hadn’t planned on having, wasn’t comfortable having, but they were having it.
They needed to have it and they needed to do it now before they screwed things up to the point where they couldn’t fix it any more.
He was still searching for his answer when Buffy spoke up, her voice soft. “Last time I saw you, I asked– Actually, I was fairly close to begging you to come home with me, make it all okay. I was so confused,” she murmured, wincing as if it was a memory long forgotten that hurt to dredge up again,
“I didn’t know why I was here and the only place that made sense was with you. I needed you, Angel. But you told me… You had a reason, a reason you needed to stay in LA, a reason you had to fight.” Again, she waited.
Waited for him to remember, waited for him to actually have his own emotional check-in, but Angel (true to form) was acting particularly dense, she noted. He couldn’t even admit what was right there in front of him, had been all along.
“Cordelia. That was what you said, Angel. Sure, you sugar-coated the blow a little, told me that you had friends now, a family who needed you, but your first thought was Cordelia. Her visions.”
Angel sighed, remembering a time when that had been true. Things had spiralled out of control so fast that he’d barely realised they were happening until he was on that slippery slope downwards and he couldn’t get off. “Buffy–“
“Angel, let me talk.” She interrupted, lifting a hand, “This is probably one of the hardest things I’ve had to say and, seriously, the fact that I’m saying it about Cordelia is hitting high on the irony-o-meter. I don’t know what happened between you and honestly? I’m not asking. But I’ve screwed my own life up enough to recognise when someone is doing it to theirs and when it’s somebody I care about, then–
Well, I guess I have to say something. I didn’t make it easier asking you to come down here. I didn’t know what was between you and Cordelia and even if someone had told me, I probably wouldn’t have believed it but…
You need to wake up, Angel. We both do. Because sooner or later we’re not going to have anything to wake up to.”
Angel looked at her, chiselled features sliding into a frown. “You finished?”
“Not even remotely,” said Buffy, shaking her head. “We’ve got to be the dumbest people I know, Angel. We’ve both got something right here, beside us, in front of us, whatever, and we’re so busy clinging to the non-scary portion of love that we’re letting it slip away.”
“You call this non-scary?” Angel asked, trying to focus on some of the things she was saying. His brain was scattered. Thinking about Cordelia in a way he’d never let himself think of her for weeks was disconcerting at best.
He wanted to be angry at her for feeling the way she had, wanted to blame her for letting their relationship get to this and it was easier that way. Except it wasn’t just. He couldn’t justify it. He even understood, in a way.
Those memories… The way it had all happened for her, it had been awful, he knew. But part of him blamed her for letting it get in the way because… Because Cordelia was the one who understood.
She was the one who understood that the demon was part of his past and that he wasn’t done making up for that, not yet. She understood. And yet it had ended up scaring her off.
“I call it safe,” said Buffy, interrupting his thoughts.
“I know you, Angel. I know you’ll let me push you, push what we have until there’s nothing left to push because it’s safe. What we had was… I love you. I’ll always love you. But love… It’s not supposed to be safe. It’s supposed to be scary and messy and worth fighting for.”
“What are you saying?” He asked, turning dark, heavy eyes to hers. He knew, in a way, but… Maybe part of him just needed to hear her say it.
“Go find Cordelia, Angel. Go find your family and go home. I need you out of Sunnydale in case–“
He stopped her there. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Don’t.” He didn’t say that he knew she’d win this or that he believed in her. She knew.
Gently, he slid his fingertips under her chin and let his lips dust over hers, just briefly, knowing what the kiss meant.
Goodbye.
He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, smiled. But when he pulled back and Buffy was able to look over his shoulder, Angel realised how much he’d missed while he’d been kissing her. The thump of another heart, the little gasp that left her lips as she saw them.
The look on Cordelia’s face when he turned slammed into him like a fist. Or a stake, maybe, and she was already off, bare feet slapping against the wood flooring as she ran down the hall and stairs.
He looked at Buffy, ready to give an apology, but she just shook her head. “Go.”
He almost caught up to Cordelia at the foot of the stairs, called out her name just as she’d grabbed her jacket and slipped through the open door and into the sunlight.
He called out again, went to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought, but the words died on his lips when the fist smashed into his face, sending him plummeting to the floor.
“You absolute fucking tosser,” Spike growled, ready to launch at Angel again when a small bundle of blonde energy stepped in front of him.
“Spike, don’t–” She ground out from between gritted teeth, placing a hand on his chest, “And not to get all teen movie of the week on you but it really isn’t what you think.”
Spike frowned. “I’m listening.”