Through a Glass, Darkly
Title: Through a Glass, Darkly
Author: a2zmom
Rating: NC-17, eventually
Genre: angst, AU
Word Count: this chapter, 3128
Character: Buffy, Angel, ensemble
Disclaimer: I own them and I am now filthy rich.
AN: Thanks to tkp for the initial beta of this chapter and for listening to me whinge about the story in general. That was so long ago, she's probably forgotten who the heck I am, never mind the story itself. Big, gigantical thanks to married-n-mich for the beta of this and future chapters. You'se the bestist!
Summary: This is a rewrite of certain aspects of BtVS season 2. Episodes will appear out of order and will mover further and further away from canon.
Warning: Story will be eight chapters. Others chapters are in various stages of rewrite. I hope to post no less often than once a week and hopefully quicker. I will repost to my LJ once the whole kit and kaboddle is finished.
Chapter 2 - The Dark Age
Through a Glass Darkly
Chapter 1 - Halloween
Buffy stopped walking in order to get a better grip on her dress. As she surveyed the muddy, ripped hem she decided that the only way this could have possibly been worse would have been if she was soaking wet in addition. At this point, the wig in her left hand looked more like muskrat road kill than an 18th century hairstyle, her upper arms still had the imprints of Spike’s fingerprints, and instead of the belle of the ball, she felt more like Roxie the Roller Derby Queen.
“What’s the matter?” Angel asked. It was the first thing either of them had said since they'd left the warehouse.
“Nothing. Everything. I picked this out special for you and it didn’t exactly work out.”
Angel let his gaze sweep over the dress. “It’s a beautiful dress, Buffy," he said carefully.
She had thought that the dress would have a major effect upon him, it was just as obvious that whatever reaction she had hoped for, it wasn't forthcoming. She was tired of the half step forward, two steps back dance they seemed locked into. She kept trying to make it clear that she didn't care that Angel was a vampire, but he refused to believe her. Maybe she could figure out what exactly he didn't like about the dress and she could use the knowledge to go from there. "I thought you would like it."
Angel's face became completely unreadable. He took a step back, turned away and then looked back at her, his expression harder.
"Angel." Her voice was suddenly hesitant. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
"I'm not mad."
"You're upset about something."
"Buffy, I'm not-" His voice kept gaining in volume, when he abruptly stopped speaking. Sighing he pushed his hand through his hair. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I don't understand why you thought I'd like this."
“I wanted to look pretty for you. Like the girls you used to date."
His eyes shifted away from her for a moment. She had taken a crash course in Angel 101 over the past few weeks. She knew that small gesture was equivalent to a shout, but she still wasn't completely sure what the issue was. "You know, dating? Boy takes girl to the movies or, boy takes girl on a horse and buggy ride." There was a teasing quality to her voice but she could see he was tightly clenching his jaw.
“People didn't date back then." His mouth closed with an almost audible snap as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
"No dating? People got married, didn't they?"
"Yes."
Buffy frowned in exasperation as the two of them walked slowly down the street. Angel wasn't talkative under the best of circumstances but his reticence was unusual even for him. "How did people get together if they didn't date? How would you know who the right person was?"
"Parents would get together and arrange a marriage based on mutual benefits to both families."
Her eyes widened at this. She'd heard of arranged marriages, but that was something that occurred in places where people paid for things in cows. Not normal countries like Ireland.
She pushed her hair back, lost in thought and then grinned. "Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum."
Angel looked at her, completely perplexed.
"Fiddler on the Roof," she said as if that explained everything. Judging by his expression, it pretty much explained nothing.
"Musical. I was a villager. Seventh grade. It took place in Russia. Or maybe Poland. Or was that Hungary? One of those places where head kerchiefs are a fashion statement and not in a gangsta way. Anyway, this guy has five daughters and the matchmaker arranges marriages for the three oldest ones, but none of the girls marries those guys. They all marry for love. I bet the same kind of thing happened back then."
"Sometimes, I guess. But it wasn't uncommon for fourteen-year-old girls to be betrothed. Marriage followed pretty quickly after that. Times were different back then."
"I'm sixteen. You're telling me I'd be married by now. I've never even…you know what, never mind."
Angel's only response was to shrug.
They were walking down the street again. Their gait was in synch but Angel kept himself just out of reach. Buffy mulled over Angel's explanation, not happy about Angel's behavior. If anything, he was becoming more remote the longer they talked. Or, she talked and he became king of the brooders. She stopped, dead in the middle of the street as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. If girls were married by the age of sixteen, surely guys wouldn't have been that much older. Angel had been married.
"Buffy, why did you stop" he asked.
She imagined it all in an instant. The prettiest girl in town. A secret elopement. Her tragic death due to one of those illnesses people got all the time back then. And all this time, all these years later, he still mourned her.
No wonder he was avoiding her.
"I'm sorry about your wife," she said softly.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"The wife you had in Ireland who died tragically."
"Married? Buffy, I didn't say anything about being married."
"But you said people got married at fourteen. And you're older than that. Even apart from the whole vampire immortal thing."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. It was obvious he was sorry he had said anything. "Women," he finally said quietly. "Men got married in their mid-twenties normally."
"So, you were betrothed." She couldn't help the small smile that sprang up. Betrothed was something out of Masterpiece Theater.
His lips pressed together in a thin line. "Not exactly."
He was in the shadows once again. Moving away from her because, for whatever reason, he didn't want to be with her. She was tired of it all. "Fine," she exploded. "So you weren't married or engaged and you hate my dress and you obviously don't want to be here." The words tumbled from her lips without even a breath in between the words. At the end, she clenched her fists in frustration and turned away.
Angel took a quick step toward her, hand outstretched, but not quite touching her shoulder. "It's not you. Believe me."
"How can I when you won't tell me anything?"
It was obvious he was struggling with a decision. Finally, he looked down at the ground, and spoke, his voice so soft that Buffy had to strain to hear him.
"When I was alive, I did things…"
"Angel, whatever it was, it wasn't like you killed someone." She looked at him, suddenly uneasy. "I mean, you didn't, right?" She could see the briefest flash of hurt illuminate his features and then he was as stoic as ever. "Of course you didn't," she declared. "I know you. You would never hurt anyone like that."
"Except that I did. I murdered thousands." His voice was cool and calm, as if they were chatting about the weather.
"That was without a soul. You'd never kill anyone when you had one."
"The things I did do were almost as bad."
"I don't understand." She felt her heart start to beat faster.
She put her hand on his arm and his head whipped around to look at her. For a moment, it looked like he was going to bolt, but finally he stopped and hung his head.
"Angel, whatever it is, it will be OK. Trust me."
"The problem is, you shouldn't trust me."
"Let me be the judge of that."
He laughed, a broken sound that held no humor. "I guess it's only fair for you to know. Make your escape while you can." His expression held the same self loathing he had shown when he had admitted he had wanted to kill her mother. "When I was fifteen, the Finnegan’s maid found me in the barn and proceeded to teach me the fine art of sportin’ with a woman."
"Oh. OH," full comprehension dawning. "I wouldn't think that would be that big a deal," she stuttered. She suddenly wished Angel hadn't opened up to her. But she had begged him to and he had and she had to try to be rational. It was over two hundred and fifty years ago, after all. Even though what she wanted was to find a Delorean and rip that maid's head off. Fifteen might have been a bit young but there were plenty of high school boys boasting at that age. She still didn't see why that event should be causing such self hatred now.
Angel's voice got even quieter, laced with disgust. "After that I spent very few lonely nights. I didn’t force anyone, but I could always find a way to turn a 'no' into a 'yes'. After a while, women found me. Virgins, married women, the town beauties, the plainest servant girls. It didn't make much difference to me. I think my longest relationship was five nights.” His hands had tightened into fists during his speech and his eyes had never once connected with Buffy’s. "When I wasn't engaged in that activity, I was drinking and gambling. I was quite the prize, wouldn't you say?" He closed his eyes for a long moment. He looked at her, frowned and then he disappeared.
She stood there, stunned by his revelations. She had never allowed herself to wonder about Angel, he never spoke about his past and she never pried. She had always assumed that beforehand, he was the same as he was now - quiet, considerate, kind. To find out that he had used women indiscriminately long before he had ever been turned made her question who he was.
Giles had once started to tell her about Angel's unsouled actions. His viciousness, his cruelty, his pleasure in the art of pain. She had dismissed it out of hand. But now she wondered. Exactly who was Angel?
Slowly, the words receded and his actions came to the forefront. His voice laced with bitterness, the tension in his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes. She had known how much he hated the demon; she hadn’t known until today that he also hated the man. She resolved that tomorrow she would make him understand that he wasn’t who he had been. The way he looked at her, as if she was someone special, someone important. She didn't want to give that feeling up. She wanted to make this right somehow, make him happy.
As she trudged home, she was unable to stop the tumble of thoughts now consuming her. In the brief time they had been together, he had never made her feel inferior. Whenever she hadn't known something, he had explained it to her but had never been condescending. And considering that the last thirty years were a complete blur to him, it felt like the entire spring shoe collection was often on the other foot. So, they were pretty much equals in terms of knowledge.
She couldn't lie to herself any longer. She had kissed plenty of boys. She had even been groped by a few, although they had been so clumsy and awkward that all she had felt was a sense of relief when it was over. But Angel…Angel had easily slept with a hundred women, probably more, even before he was turned. He hadn't been boasting, if anything the fury behind his words implied the opposite, but she understood the implications. A good portion of them had to have been married and she suspected that infidelity was far from a turn-the-other-cheek offense. Women had come to him, had sought him out because he made them come alive, sexually.
A vague flutter started in her stomach at the memory of his first kiss. It had been hot, hungry, desperate; a promise to teach her things she had only dimly dreamed about. She hadn't consciously understood it at the time, but she would have eagerly given her body to him right then if he had asked. Since then, he kissed her differently. Passionately certainly, but carefully as if he was just another naive high school student, same as she was. Was it because he saw her as a child that needed protecting or because he was ashamed of his past?
The street light that she was passing started buzzing loudly, sounding like a loud, angry wasp. The light flared into brightness, making her look washed out and ghostly. Just as quickly, the light gave a final flicker and died. The street was plunged into darkness.
Buffy hurried to reach the shelter of the next welcoming light.
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The bell sounded, but it didn’t make them walk any faster. Buffy expertly sidestepped a locker that opened where her face had been a second before. “So, a ghost? Get to scare anyone?”
“Giles, but that was sort of unintentional. Xander told me that Angel walked you home after. Big smoochies?” Willow looked expectantly at Buffy, hoping for a vicarious thrill.
“No. No smooching of any kind, big or little.” She looked over at her friend, scrunching her hands into her pockets.
"What's wrong?" Willow stopped short, narrowly avoiding a collision. Her best friend needed her.
"Angel told me some stuff yesterday and I’m not sure what to think."
"I bet it's not that bad."
"When he was alive, he made Casanova look like Urkel.”
They walked into the library and sat down at the round table that dominated the center of the room. “So, the problem is what exactly? Angel is going to start chasing other girls? He’s just using you?” Willow rolled her eyes.
Buffy crossed her arms on the table and pillowed her head on them. “I don’t know, Will. He’s not exactly easy to read.” Her voice was muffled but the upset tone came through clearly.
“Buffy, if Lucy Lawless showed up wearing that leather Xena outfit and then did a striptease in front of him, Angel wouldn’t notice. You’re the only person he sees. Don’t you know that?”
Buffy picked her head up, looking decidedly less dejected. “Really?”
“Cross my…hi, Giles!”
Giles frowned at the two girls. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“Study hall,” Willow chirped brightly. “We figured we’d study in here, instead.”
“And textbooks are no longer required for this effort because…?”
“Because we’re studying for an oral quiz,” Buffy earnestly explained.
Giles shook his head and retreated to his office.
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"Miss Summers, the answer please?"
"32?"
The class tittered. "If this was math class, there might have been a slight possibility that you were right; however…" The bell rang and half the class bolted. Buffy started to move out the door but was stopped by the surprisingly strong grip that Cordelia had on her upper arm.
Cordelia kept her eyes focused on Buffy, but directed her remarks to her hovering companion. "Harmony, I'm going to need you to take notes for me."
"We don't take the next class together."
"Room 113. World Lit. Buffy needs to talk to me" Cordelia made a dismissive gesture that Cleopatra would have envied. She then turned her full attention to Buffy, half yanking her down the hallway..
"That eye shadow is a clash with your skin tone, the blouse is so last year, and didn't I see the lunch lady wearing the same skirt last week?"
"I don't recall asking for fashion tips," Buffy snapped.
"True, but you so need them. Come on, this room's empty. Believe me, you need my advice." Cordelia snapped the light on in the empty classroom and closed the door behind them.
"Aren't you worried that Snyder's going to come after us?"
"I'm Cordelia Chase. Who's he?"
"The principal?"
"Exactly. Look, I didn't bring you here because I like you." Cordelia's tone was completely no nonsense. "I don't want you mistaking me for one of your mousketeers. But you've been way off your game for days and if you get killed, what's going to happen to me?
"I need to put in regular appearances at the Bronze and what if there's a vampire just waiting in the alley for me?"
"That really would be a tragedy for the entire town."
"I knew you'd understand." Cordelia smiled, completely oblivious to Buffy's sarcastic tone. "So he dumped you, get over it."
Buffy was so surprised by the whole conversation that the only thing she was capable of was releasing a small, almost hysterical giggle. Cordelia stopped and gave Buffy a careful once over. "Not dumped," Cordelia said thoughtfully. "But Angel is the problem.
"He's older, out of college. He's well off, his clothes scream money. He's incredibly good looking. He's experienced." She ticked off each statement on a finger, her long slender fingers perfectly set off by dark maroon nail polish. She then turned and pointed her finger at Buffy. "The question is what does he see in you?"
Buffy stared down at her hands. Her nail polish was chipped from last night's fighting. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. "How do you know so much about him?'
Cordelia raised one neatly tweezed eyebrow. "I'm observant. Am I wrong?"
Buffy briefly considered shrugging her shoulders. Instead, she mumbled, "Not totally wrong."
"So, the question remains. You're not in the running for Miss California, you're not even close to being popular, and you're not a brainiac. He's older, but you're not exactly sophisticated." Her eyes lit up. "That's it. He thinks you're better than he is. That you're some kind of pure innocent Rebecca of Sunnydale Farms that can show him the light." Cordelia leaned back against the lockers, her face illuminated by a self-satisfied smile.
"That's not even close to the truth."
"Whatever." Cordelia airily waved away Buffy's protest. "This is a case where I can't help you. I thought maybe he was pressuring you, but it's the opposite. He thinks he's going to sully you. So eventually he's going to cheat on you and the relationship is going to implode. Sorry about that." She didn't sound even the tiniest bit upset.
"You're completely wrong about us. Angel isn't like that. He would never do that to me."
Cordelia nodded her head, although obviously not in agreement. "In my experience all guys think with the little head. But at least now you know, so no sense moping. Got to catch my next class. Let's never do this again."
Cordelia swept out of the room, leaving Buffy behind.
Author: a2zmom
Rating: NC-17, eventually
Genre: angst, AU
Word Count: this chapter, 3128
Character: Buffy, Angel, ensemble
Disclaimer: I own them and I am now filthy rich.
AN: Thanks to tkp for the initial beta of this chapter and for listening to me whinge about the story in general. That was so long ago, she's probably forgotten who the heck I am, never mind the story itself. Big, gigantical thanks to married-n-mich for the beta of this and future chapters. You'se the bestist!
Summary: This is a rewrite of certain aspects of BtVS season 2. Episodes will appear out of order and will mover further and further away from canon.
Warning: Story will be eight chapters. Others chapters are in various stages of rewrite. I hope to post no less often than once a week and hopefully quicker. I will repost to my LJ once the whole kit and kaboddle is finished.
Chapter 2 - The Dark Age
Through a Glass Darkly
Chapter 1 - Halloween
Buffy stopped walking in order to get a better grip on her dress. As she surveyed the muddy, ripped hem she decided that the only way this could have possibly been worse would have been if she was soaking wet in addition. At this point, the wig in her left hand looked more like muskrat road kill than an 18th century hairstyle, her upper arms still had the imprints of Spike’s fingerprints, and instead of the belle of the ball, she felt more like Roxie the Roller Derby Queen.
“What’s the matter?” Angel asked. It was the first thing either of them had said since they'd left the warehouse.
“Nothing. Everything. I picked this out special for you and it didn’t exactly work out.”
Angel let his gaze sweep over the dress. “It’s a beautiful dress, Buffy," he said carefully.
She had thought that the dress would have a major effect upon him, it was just as obvious that whatever reaction she had hoped for, it wasn't forthcoming. She was tired of the half step forward, two steps back dance they seemed locked into. She kept trying to make it clear that she didn't care that Angel was a vampire, but he refused to believe her. Maybe she could figure out what exactly he didn't like about the dress and she could use the knowledge to go from there. "I thought you would like it."
Angel's face became completely unreadable. He took a step back, turned away and then looked back at her, his expression harder.
"Angel." Her voice was suddenly hesitant. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
"I'm not mad."
"You're upset about something."
"Buffy, I'm not-" His voice kept gaining in volume, when he abruptly stopped speaking. Sighing he pushed his hand through his hair. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I don't understand why you thought I'd like this."
“I wanted to look pretty for you. Like the girls you used to date."
His eyes shifted away from her for a moment. She had taken a crash course in Angel 101 over the past few weeks. She knew that small gesture was equivalent to a shout, but she still wasn't completely sure what the issue was. "You know, dating? Boy takes girl to the movies or, boy takes girl on a horse and buggy ride." There was a teasing quality to her voice but she could see he was tightly clenching his jaw.
“People didn't date back then." His mouth closed with an almost audible snap as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
"No dating? People got married, didn't they?"
"Yes."
Buffy frowned in exasperation as the two of them walked slowly down the street. Angel wasn't talkative under the best of circumstances but his reticence was unusual even for him. "How did people get together if they didn't date? How would you know who the right person was?"
"Parents would get together and arrange a marriage based on mutual benefits to both families."
Her eyes widened at this. She'd heard of arranged marriages, but that was something that occurred in places where people paid for things in cows. Not normal countries like Ireland.
She pushed her hair back, lost in thought and then grinned. "Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum."
Angel looked at her, completely perplexed.
"Fiddler on the Roof," she said as if that explained everything. Judging by his expression, it pretty much explained nothing.
"Musical. I was a villager. Seventh grade. It took place in Russia. Or maybe Poland. Or was that Hungary? One of those places where head kerchiefs are a fashion statement and not in a gangsta way. Anyway, this guy has five daughters and the matchmaker arranges marriages for the three oldest ones, but none of the girls marries those guys. They all marry for love. I bet the same kind of thing happened back then."
"Sometimes, I guess. But it wasn't uncommon for fourteen-year-old girls to be betrothed. Marriage followed pretty quickly after that. Times were different back then."
"I'm sixteen. You're telling me I'd be married by now. I've never even…you know what, never mind."
Angel's only response was to shrug.
They were walking down the street again. Their gait was in synch but Angel kept himself just out of reach. Buffy mulled over Angel's explanation, not happy about Angel's behavior. If anything, he was becoming more remote the longer they talked. Or, she talked and he became king of the brooders. She stopped, dead in the middle of the street as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. If girls were married by the age of sixteen, surely guys wouldn't have been that much older. Angel had been married.
"Buffy, why did you stop" he asked.
She imagined it all in an instant. The prettiest girl in town. A secret elopement. Her tragic death due to one of those illnesses people got all the time back then. And all this time, all these years later, he still mourned her.
No wonder he was avoiding her.
"I'm sorry about your wife," she said softly.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"The wife you had in Ireland who died tragically."
"Married? Buffy, I didn't say anything about being married."
"But you said people got married at fourteen. And you're older than that. Even apart from the whole vampire immortal thing."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. It was obvious he was sorry he had said anything. "Women," he finally said quietly. "Men got married in their mid-twenties normally."
"So, you were betrothed." She couldn't help the small smile that sprang up. Betrothed was something out of Masterpiece Theater.
His lips pressed together in a thin line. "Not exactly."
He was in the shadows once again. Moving away from her because, for whatever reason, he didn't want to be with her. She was tired of it all. "Fine," she exploded. "So you weren't married or engaged and you hate my dress and you obviously don't want to be here." The words tumbled from her lips without even a breath in between the words. At the end, she clenched her fists in frustration and turned away.
Angel took a quick step toward her, hand outstretched, but not quite touching her shoulder. "It's not you. Believe me."
"How can I when you won't tell me anything?"
It was obvious he was struggling with a decision. Finally, he looked down at the ground, and spoke, his voice so soft that Buffy had to strain to hear him.
"When I was alive, I did things…"
"Angel, whatever it was, it wasn't like you killed someone." She looked at him, suddenly uneasy. "I mean, you didn't, right?" She could see the briefest flash of hurt illuminate his features and then he was as stoic as ever. "Of course you didn't," she declared. "I know you. You would never hurt anyone like that."
"Except that I did. I murdered thousands." His voice was cool and calm, as if they were chatting about the weather.
"That was without a soul. You'd never kill anyone when you had one."
"The things I did do were almost as bad."
"I don't understand." She felt her heart start to beat faster.
She put her hand on his arm and his head whipped around to look at her. For a moment, it looked like he was going to bolt, but finally he stopped and hung his head.
"Angel, whatever it is, it will be OK. Trust me."
"The problem is, you shouldn't trust me."
"Let me be the judge of that."
He laughed, a broken sound that held no humor. "I guess it's only fair for you to know. Make your escape while you can." His expression held the same self loathing he had shown when he had admitted he had wanted to kill her mother. "When I was fifteen, the Finnegan’s maid found me in the barn and proceeded to teach me the fine art of sportin’ with a woman."
"Oh. OH," full comprehension dawning. "I wouldn't think that would be that big a deal," she stuttered. She suddenly wished Angel hadn't opened up to her. But she had begged him to and he had and she had to try to be rational. It was over two hundred and fifty years ago, after all. Even though what she wanted was to find a Delorean and rip that maid's head off. Fifteen might have been a bit young but there were plenty of high school boys boasting at that age. She still didn't see why that event should be causing such self hatred now.
Angel's voice got even quieter, laced with disgust. "After that I spent very few lonely nights. I didn’t force anyone, but I could always find a way to turn a 'no' into a 'yes'. After a while, women found me. Virgins, married women, the town beauties, the plainest servant girls. It didn't make much difference to me. I think my longest relationship was five nights.” His hands had tightened into fists during his speech and his eyes had never once connected with Buffy’s. "When I wasn't engaged in that activity, I was drinking and gambling. I was quite the prize, wouldn't you say?" He closed his eyes for a long moment. He looked at her, frowned and then he disappeared.
She stood there, stunned by his revelations. She had never allowed herself to wonder about Angel, he never spoke about his past and she never pried. She had always assumed that beforehand, he was the same as he was now - quiet, considerate, kind. To find out that he had used women indiscriminately long before he had ever been turned made her question who he was.
Giles had once started to tell her about Angel's unsouled actions. His viciousness, his cruelty, his pleasure in the art of pain. She had dismissed it out of hand. But now she wondered. Exactly who was Angel?
Slowly, the words receded and his actions came to the forefront. His voice laced with bitterness, the tension in his shoulders and the haunted look in his eyes. She had known how much he hated the demon; she hadn’t known until today that he also hated the man. She resolved that tomorrow she would make him understand that he wasn’t who he had been. The way he looked at her, as if she was someone special, someone important. She didn't want to give that feeling up. She wanted to make this right somehow, make him happy.
As she trudged home, she was unable to stop the tumble of thoughts now consuming her. In the brief time they had been together, he had never made her feel inferior. Whenever she hadn't known something, he had explained it to her but had never been condescending. And considering that the last thirty years were a complete blur to him, it felt like the entire spring shoe collection was often on the other foot. So, they were pretty much equals in terms of knowledge.
She couldn't lie to herself any longer. She had kissed plenty of boys. She had even been groped by a few, although they had been so clumsy and awkward that all she had felt was a sense of relief when it was over. But Angel…Angel had easily slept with a hundred women, probably more, even before he was turned. He hadn't been boasting, if anything the fury behind his words implied the opposite, but she understood the implications. A good portion of them had to have been married and she suspected that infidelity was far from a turn-the-other-cheek offense. Women had come to him, had sought him out because he made them come alive, sexually.
A vague flutter started in her stomach at the memory of his first kiss. It had been hot, hungry, desperate; a promise to teach her things she had only dimly dreamed about. She hadn't consciously understood it at the time, but she would have eagerly given her body to him right then if he had asked. Since then, he kissed her differently. Passionately certainly, but carefully as if he was just another naive high school student, same as she was. Was it because he saw her as a child that needed protecting or because he was ashamed of his past?
The street light that she was passing started buzzing loudly, sounding like a loud, angry wasp. The light flared into brightness, making her look washed out and ghostly. Just as quickly, the light gave a final flicker and died. The street was plunged into darkness.
Buffy hurried to reach the shelter of the next welcoming light.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bell sounded, but it didn’t make them walk any faster. Buffy expertly sidestepped a locker that opened where her face had been a second before. “So, a ghost? Get to scare anyone?”
“Giles, but that was sort of unintentional. Xander told me that Angel walked you home after. Big smoochies?” Willow looked expectantly at Buffy, hoping for a vicarious thrill.
“No. No smooching of any kind, big or little.” She looked over at her friend, scrunching her hands into her pockets.
"What's wrong?" Willow stopped short, narrowly avoiding a collision. Her best friend needed her.
"Angel told me some stuff yesterday and I’m not sure what to think."
"I bet it's not that bad."
"When he was alive, he made Casanova look like Urkel.”
They walked into the library and sat down at the round table that dominated the center of the room. “So, the problem is what exactly? Angel is going to start chasing other girls? He’s just using you?” Willow rolled her eyes.
Buffy crossed her arms on the table and pillowed her head on them. “I don’t know, Will. He’s not exactly easy to read.” Her voice was muffled but the upset tone came through clearly.
“Buffy, if Lucy Lawless showed up wearing that leather Xena outfit and then did a striptease in front of him, Angel wouldn’t notice. You’re the only person he sees. Don’t you know that?”
Buffy picked her head up, looking decidedly less dejected. “Really?”
“Cross my…hi, Giles!”
Giles frowned at the two girls. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“Study hall,” Willow chirped brightly. “We figured we’d study in here, instead.”
“And textbooks are no longer required for this effort because…?”
“Because we’re studying for an oral quiz,” Buffy earnestly explained.
Giles shook his head and retreated to his office.
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"Miss Summers, the answer please?"
"32?"
The class tittered. "If this was math class, there might have been a slight possibility that you were right; however…" The bell rang and half the class bolted. Buffy started to move out the door but was stopped by the surprisingly strong grip that Cordelia had on her upper arm.
Cordelia kept her eyes focused on Buffy, but directed her remarks to her hovering companion. "Harmony, I'm going to need you to take notes for me."
"We don't take the next class together."
"Room 113. World Lit. Buffy needs to talk to me" Cordelia made a dismissive gesture that Cleopatra would have envied. She then turned her full attention to Buffy, half yanking her down the hallway..
"That eye shadow is a clash with your skin tone, the blouse is so last year, and didn't I see the lunch lady wearing the same skirt last week?"
"I don't recall asking for fashion tips," Buffy snapped.
"True, but you so need them. Come on, this room's empty. Believe me, you need my advice." Cordelia snapped the light on in the empty classroom and closed the door behind them.
"Aren't you worried that Snyder's going to come after us?"
"I'm Cordelia Chase. Who's he?"
"The principal?"
"Exactly. Look, I didn't bring you here because I like you." Cordelia's tone was completely no nonsense. "I don't want you mistaking me for one of your mousketeers. But you've been way off your game for days and if you get killed, what's going to happen to me?
"I need to put in regular appearances at the Bronze and what if there's a vampire just waiting in the alley for me?"
"That really would be a tragedy for the entire town."
"I knew you'd understand." Cordelia smiled, completely oblivious to Buffy's sarcastic tone. "So he dumped you, get over it."
Buffy was so surprised by the whole conversation that the only thing she was capable of was releasing a small, almost hysterical giggle. Cordelia stopped and gave Buffy a careful once over. "Not dumped," Cordelia said thoughtfully. "But Angel is the problem.
"He's older, out of college. He's well off, his clothes scream money. He's incredibly good looking. He's experienced." She ticked off each statement on a finger, her long slender fingers perfectly set off by dark maroon nail polish. She then turned and pointed her finger at Buffy. "The question is what does he see in you?"
Buffy stared down at her hands. Her nail polish was chipped from last night's fighting. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. "How do you know so much about him?'
Cordelia raised one neatly tweezed eyebrow. "I'm observant. Am I wrong?"
Buffy briefly considered shrugging her shoulders. Instead, she mumbled, "Not totally wrong."
"So, the question remains. You're not in the running for Miss California, you're not even close to being popular, and you're not a brainiac. He's older, but you're not exactly sophisticated." Her eyes lit up. "That's it. He thinks you're better than he is. That you're some kind of pure innocent Rebecca of Sunnydale Farms that can show him the light." Cordelia leaned back against the lockers, her face illuminated by a self-satisfied smile.
"That's not even close to the truth."
"Whatever." Cordelia airily waved away Buffy's protest. "This is a case where I can't help you. I thought maybe he was pressuring you, but it's the opposite. He thinks he's going to sully you. So eventually he's going to cheat on you and the relationship is going to implode. Sorry about that." She didn't sound even the tiniest bit upset.
"You're completely wrong about us. Angel isn't like that. He would never do that to me."
Cordelia nodded her head, although obviously not in agreement. "In my experience all guys think with the little head. But at least now you know, so no sense moping. Got to catch my next class. Let's never do this again."
Cordelia swept out of the room, leaving Buffy behind.