by Indie

Future fic, starts in May 2025. Angel's in Sunnydale teaching history. Buffy runs a gallery. They aren't speaking - at first. Sort of dark, sort of fluffy. It's AU. Splits off after BTVS "The Body" and A:TS "Epiphany". Assume that Sanctuary/Yoko Factor cross over didn't happen and that "Something Blue" happened a month after "Pangs".

It's not beta'd because I'm feeling lazy. I apologize for any typos.
Dedication: To Kim H., Monica R., and Jennifer C. for being so supportive of this series
DISCLAIMER: Joss, the WB and Fox own everything, I own nothing

Angel looked at the cluttered table. It was exactly as it had been before he and Clarice had gone out the previous evening - a hundred years ago. Sitting down heavily in one of the chairs, he picked up the dagger and studied it.

He still intended to finish his research. Whether or not Clarice would stab him with the dagger when he gave it back to her remained to be seen. She didn't strike him as the type who would take rejection well, especially from someone she thought she was lowering herself to fuck. Oh well, that wouldn't be an issue anymore. He and Clarice were finished.

He was single.

Hopefully not for long. He gave another thought to Buffy, then admitted to himself that he'd been doing nothing but thinking about Buffy for the last twelve hours. It was ... nice. He knew he should be concentrating on the task at hand, namely finding out the story behind the dagger. It was just a wonderful coincidence that the top authority on the matter also happened to be the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.

The little bell over the door dinged as he entered the gallery shortly after lunch. Downtown Sunnydale had been crawling with shoppers out enjoying the wonderful Saturday afternoon weather, but the interior of the gallery was oddly quiet. Apparently antique weaponry wasn't real popular with the yuppie crowd. Fine by him, less of an audience that way. He wasn't in the mood, just in case things didn't go well.

At the sound the bell made, an employee entered the showroom from one of the myriad of offices at the back of the gallery. Angel bristled. Another attractive younger man. Apparently Buffy couldn't get enough of them. This one appeared to be older than the one she'd had with her in the bar. Angel put his age somewhere in the mid 30's.

"May I help you, sir," the employee asked.

"No," Angel bit out, "*you* cannot help me."

The other man had no trouble pick up on the hostile vibes coming off of Angel, and he didn't seem impressed. Not one to be easily intimidated, he cocked an eyebrow and slowly assessed Angel from head to foot. The former vampire quietly rued the fact that he had lost the ability to growl.

Affecting a pompous air, the employee continued, "Just between you and me, I don't think you can afford anything in this gallery, *sir*. Perhaps you should leave."

Angel almost snarled. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but he didn't exactly look like a vagrant either. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Buffy walked into the showroom. Her head was down and she was studying a clipboard.

"Dan," she said absently, "do you know where the crate with the ... "

Buffy looked up and had little trouble sensing the hostility between the two men. "Angel," she said cautiously, "is there something you need?"

"I wanted to get your opinion as an appraiser of antique weaponry," he said dryly, stepping away from Dan.

Dan looked at Buffy and she gave him a small nod indicating that he should leave. He obeyed, but clearly wasn't happy about it. As he walked past her, she handed him the clipboard, indicating that he should track down the missing crate and begin cataloging items. Dan left in a huff.

"Boyfriend?" Angel asked caustically. His good mood was shot all to hell.

Buffy smiled wryly and answered, intentionally vague, "Employee."

Angel's eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't realize the two were mutually exclusive."

"They aren't," Buffy said, flashing him a genuine smile. She loved the fact that after more than two decades of being apart she could still drive him nuts. "Let's go in my office."

Angel grumbled under his breath, but followed her closely. He didn't know who Dan was and Buffy hadn't gone out of her way to assure him that he wasn't her boyfriend. Hell maybe she had several of them, after all, Nick was still in the picture somewhere.

Buffy picked up the dagger again and then looked back at her computer screen. Her brow was furrowed deeply. She'd been half certain that Angel was just making excuses to bother her, but the relic was indeed genuine, and very interesting. It seemed very familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Where did you get this?" she asked Angel who was seated in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk.

"Clarice," he answered evenly.

"Huh?"

"The girl who was with me last night. She said her grandfather gave it to her and she asked me to see if I could find out anything about it."

"I take it you haven't had any luck," Buffy said in what she hoped was a business-like tone.

"No," he answered honestly. "I've come up with exactly nothing. I was hoping you would have more success."

"Trying to impress her?" Buffy asked, almost cringing at the catty quality of her voice. She hadn't meant that. Okay, she had, but she didn't want him to know that.

Angel smiled, relieved he was getting to her as much as she was getting to him. "No. We're not speaking at the moment, I doubt we ever will be again, but I agreed to look into this."

Buffy congratulated herself for not sighing audibly. "How long have you been 'looking into this'?"

"A little over a month."

Buffy turned from the computer to face him. "If you weren't getting anywhere with it, why didn't you just come and ask me?"

"I was avoiding you," he answered with brutal honesty.

Buffy nodded. It was fair. Their last meeting was nothing short of horrible. "I figured as much," she said quietly.

Angel frowned, his brow furrowing. This wasn't the time or the place to delve into their sordid, painful past.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

"Working," she answered automatically. It was the truth. She would be spending every free second for the foreseeable future working.

"Do you think maybe you could take off an hour for dinner with an old friend?" he asked cautiously.

"With an old friend? I think maybe I could," she answered with a smile.

Buffy stood up and brushed the packing material off of her black slacks. She'd spent most of the day digging through crate after crate of artifacts from her newest client, Jason Houseman. The collection was incredible, but she still couldn't get her mind off of Angel or the dagger.

Walking back into her office, she sank down into her chair and picked up the dagger. It was so familiar, but it wasn't the way the dagger looked that was setting her off. She was fairly certain she'd never seen it before. It was the way the weapon *felt*. She couldn't explain it, but every time she touched it, there was a fleeting sense of recognition.

Who the hell was Clarice and what was the story behind her dagger?

Buffy suppressed a surge of jealousy. It had taken every ounce of self mastery she possessed to not rip Clarice's hair out in Jack's the previous evening. She knew it was crazy. She and Angel hadn't been she and Angel for a very long time. He was free to spend time with whomever he chose. Why exactly he would chose to spend it with the spoiled child she saw Friday night was beyond her.

Buffy cringed. What if that's what Angel was into? He'd dated her when she was only sixteen. What if he liked them young? True, given Angel's real age, anyone who was breathing was young by comparison, but what if he was repulsed by mature women? Buffy admitted to herself that she was being overly dramatic. She knew that Angel was still attracted to her. Why else would he have been practically foaming at the mouth about Nick and Dan?

Even if Angel still wanted her, Buffy acknowledged she wasn't sixteen anymore. Not that she wanted to be. She wouldn't repeat her teenage years for anything. She was much happier now. Sure, she was a little heavier, and she had a curvier figure from childbearing, but she still looked damn good. And what's more, she wasn't an insecure child anymore. She was a composed, collected, in-charge, mature woman.

"Then why am I sitting here driving myself crazy over my high school boyfriend?" she said aloud to herself.

When Angel arrived at seven, Buffy was trying to make herself look presentable. She didn't look horrible, but it was apparent she'd spent most of the day digging through boxes. She was making a face at her hair in the mirror on her office wall, when Angel's reflection appeared behind her. She jumped, putting her hand over her rapidly beating heart as she twisted around to face him.

"You scared the crap out of me," she hissed.

He smiled. "Sorry," he said, looking anything but sincere. He probably enjoyed the novelty of being able to frighten people with his reflection. Not that his reflection was frightening. His reflection was very easy to look at, just the fact that he had one was a bit unsettling.

"I don't think making faces at it is going to fix it," he said, pointing at her mussed hair.

Buffy frowned. So much for being the composed, collected, in-charge mature woman. She probably looked like a dirty street urchin. "I don't know why I'm even bothering," she said haughtily. "It's not like impressing you is at the top of my to do list."

Angel smiled even wider. "You don't have to do anything. I'm already impressed. Besides, I like the bedhead look on you," he paused for a moment and frowned. "Assuming you didn't just get out of bed, that is," he amended.

Now it was Buffy's turn to smile. "I guess you'll never know," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye as she walked out of the office, expecting him to follow.

For the second time that day, Angel lamented the loss of his vampiric powers. There was definitely something to be said for the ability to growl and for a very keen sense of smell. As it was, he had to take it on faith that Buffy hadn't just tumbled out of bed with one of her assistants.

The former slayer looked up from her burger with an exasperated expression. "What *are* we doing?" she asked Angel pointedly.

He looked around to see if anyone was listening and then leaned in towards her conspiratorially. "I can't be certain," he whispered, "but I think we're having dinner."

Buffy scowled, picked a french fry off of her plate and threw it at her companion. "That's not what I meant," she said with a smile. "And when did you find a sense of humor?"

"About the same time I found lower back pain," he said seriously.

Buffy laughed.

"Go ahead, yuk it up. It's the truth. There's too much bullshit associated with life. People take things way too seriously. We don't have much time. Why waste it on getting excited about things that don't matter," he explained.

"Wow," she said with mock admiration. "That was deep. There's the Angel I know and love," she quickly caught herself. She hadn't really meant that, it was just a turn of phrase.

"Don't get all riled up," he said quietly. "I know what you meant. I also know that you're wondering why we're sitting here having a friendly meal instead of ripping each other's heads off."

Buffy nodded.

"The answer is I don't know," he said honestly. "But I'm glad. I don't want to fight with you, Buffy. I never did. I want to be your friend."

Buffy regarded him carefully. "So have you actually been following your 'life's too short, don't get overly excited' policy?"

Angel looked away. He tended to avoid thinking about the fact that Buffy was one of the few people in the last three centuries that truly *knew* him. If he was going to be her friend, he was going to have to embrace that fact.

"No," he answered honestly, meeting her gaze again, "I haven't. I've spent most of my mortal life brooding or burying myself in one vice or another."

"And what exactly were those vices, professor?" Buffy asked, not confident at all that she wanted the answers.

Angel studied her for a long moment. This could very well bring a screeching halt to their ceasefire. "Women and booze," he said evenly, waiting for her reaction. "A lot of both."

Buffy watched him passively. She knew he was waiting for her to go nuts and scream at him. The inclination was definitely there, but she wasn't going to give into it. Angel was a healthy, human male. Of course he'd had lovers, there wasn't anything to stop him. No looming curse, no self hatred over the fact that he was a vampire. His admission that there had been "lots" of women, and lots of alcohol just seemed ... sad.

"I take it you never found anyone special," she said quietly.

"Oh no," he said, "I found someone special. It's just that she hasn't been talking to me for the last twenty-five years."

Buffy's pain over the fact that he's found someone quickly faded in the realization that he was talking about her. "There wasn't anyone else?" she asked gently, feeling sorry for him.

"I just told you there were tons of 'someone else's'. I'm just saying there wasn't anybody that actually meant anything to me. Not since you. Not before you either, to be honest. Nope. No one special at any time except you, Buffy."

Buffy didn't know what to say. In all the time that she'd known him, he'd never been this forward or honest with her. Where had cryptic guy gone? Maybe he had realized that life was too short to play games or leave things unsaid.

"What about you?" he asked evenly. "Anyone special?"

"I have people in my life I care about a great deal," she said evasively. For once it was her turn to play cryptic.

"What does that mean?" he asked, clearly nonplussed.

She smiled at him and then held up her left hand. "Do you see a ring?" she asked.

That seemed to calm him down a little. "No," he answered grouchily, "I don't see a ring. But that doesn't mean that there wasn't someone before - or that there isn't someone now who just hasn't gotten around to giving you a ring."

"Angel," she explained patiently, "you're the only man who has ever given me a ring - or at least the only man I've ever accepted one from. I've had lovers, yes, although not anywhere near as many as you, I'm sure. I never married and I am currently unattached."

She silently wondered where that had come from. She had spent most of the afternoon trying to convince herself to keep Angel at a distance and here she was letting him know in no uncertain terms that she was single. She felt like she should be carrying around a ticking time bomb with the words BIOLOGICAL CLOCK written in neon letters on the side. The outburst, however, did seem to do wonders for his mood. The uncharacteristic grin had returned in full force.

"So what about the guys?" he asked in a suspiciously neutral tone of voice.

"Guys?" she asked with over exaggerated innocence.

"Dan and Nicholas," he prompted, not buying the innocent act for a second.

"Dan works for me. End of story."

"And Nicholas?"

Buffy just smiled, but didn't answer.

"You just said you were single," Angel pointed out as his grin disappeared.

"I am," she said evasively.

"Then who is Nicholas?"

"My son."

On to Brand New Day