Midnight Angel
When Angel exited his office after speaking with his sister's boyfriend, Gunn, he was surprised to find Buffy standing at one of the front windows of the house, staring outside. In the short time she'd been staying with him, he'd noticed that she usually stayed up late, and slept through the morning. So he hadn't been expecting to see her up.
He stood in the doorway between his office and the living room and watched her for a moment. There was something...longing...about her posture there at the window. Her forehead looked to be nearly touching the glass, and the palm of her right hand was pressed against the boundary, fingers spread along it. What was she thinking about, he wondered? He didn't have to wonder long as Buffy soon spoke.
“Do you think I'll ever be free, Angel?”
The question started him a bit. “Free?” he repeated dumbly.
Finally, Buffy turned away from the window. She paced across the room, and found herself gazing out one of the back windows. Different sight, but the same feeling stole over her. So she forced herself to look away and back to Angel.
“All those years Daddy kept me in the house, I didn't understand it, and I snuck out at night, but at the same time, the attic was where I felt...safe. I wanted to be able to go places, but I also didn't want to leave.” She paused, scrunched up her nose. “Does that make sense?”
“Yeah,” Angel nodded. “You wanted to be able to leave, but you don't know if you actually would have done it if you could, right?”
“I guess that's what I mean,” she shrugged, jammed her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “I don't know. But now...now it's like I want to go everywhere. I want to go to the mall and buy new clothes. I want to go to a pizza place and sit down and eat. I want to the movie theater and buy popcorn and a soda and watch a movie. I just want to do everything. It's like an itch I can't get rid of.”
“That's understandable,” Angel replied sympathetically. “You haven't been able to do all those things for a long time.” And he wished he could take her to do all those things. She deserved to be able to be free to do whatever she wanted. Soon, he told himself, soon she would have the freedom she wanted.
“But why now?” she asked. “I spent the last four years with only a vague need to go out, but now it's constant, and right there in front of me all the time.”
“Because everything is changing now,” he explained, leaning a shoulder against the bookshelf next to him. “The truth is starting to come out, your friends are back in your life. All the lies that have kept you a prisoner for so long are crumbling and it's to be expected that you'd want some kind of normal life.”
“What if I never get it?” she again posed her original question. “What if your plan doesn't work and I'm never free?”
“It will work,” Angel said vehemently.
“But what if it doesn't?” she repeated emphatically. “This has gone on for seven years. What if it goes on forever? Will I always be stuck hiding in somebody's house?”
Angel hated the very idea of that. Buffy was a vibrant, young woman. She shouldn't be spending her days hiding from the world. She should be out living life. He had faith that the truth would come out, and her name would be cleared. But what if...the system had already failed her so many times. What if it did again?
“You could go somewhere, like Giles suggested,” he posed. “Australia, or England. Somewhere nobody knows you and start a new life.”
“I guess,” Buffy replied, not entirely enthused by the idea. “But I'd still be considered dead and a murderer.”
Walking over to Buffy, Angel took one of her hands and looked into her eyes. “I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure the truth – the real truth – comes out.”
“I know I've said this before, but thank you for everything, Angel,” she told him sincerely. “If it weren't for you, I'd still be hiding out in my rooms and my friends would still think I'm dead. Whatever else happens, I'm grateful for that.”
“I just want to see you happy,” Angel responded in complete honesty. It was the truth. He just wanted her to be happy without having to look over her shoulder all the time.
An awkward moment followed as Buffy stared up at Angel, her eyes meeting his. Butterflies settled in her stomach, and she swore her hands trembled. The way he was looking at her, it was as if he was gazing inside her. She had the distinct impression that he wanted to kiss her again. It seemed like eons ago that he had kissed her by the door in the kitchen. Did she want him to do it again?
Old fears resurfaced inside her. She told herself she was being stupid. Angel was a good guy. He wouldn't ever hurt her. But she couldn't push the fears, the memories, away. So she shifted away, breaking the intimate moment.
“You called your friend,” she said suddenly, remembering the conversation she had accidentally overheard.
Angel was abruptly aware of the broken moment. He wanted to kick himself. He'd been so tempted to lean down and touch his lips to hers. Stupid, he cursed silently. This was definitely not the time to be putting moves on Buffy. There may never be a time for that. She needed his help, not his come-ons. So he took a huge mental step back and focused on her question.
“Yes, I just got off the phone with him,” he answered.
“What did he say?”
Angel shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Not much. I really didn't tell him anything, just that I was going to be faxing some stuff to him. And I asked him to look it over and then call me back.”
“Why didn't you tell him about,” she waved her hand around, “all this?” Buffy inquired.
“I didn't want to prejudice him,” Angel explained. “If I told him the situation first, he'd read the files with preconceived notions. I wanted him to read the files cold.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” she said, considering it.
Angel could see her nervousness. Her whole life depended on his idea. It was a heavy weight to bear. He hoped Gunn came through for him. “He'll see just what I saw in those files, Buffy. He'll see that you weren't the one.”
But she wasn't so sure about that. She turned away and asked, “so who is this friend of yours?”
“He's actually my sisters boyfriend.”
“Really?” Buffy posed curiously, facing Angel again. “How did she meet him?”
“He worked for the LA Police Department for a while, and few years ago there was a problem in the building Fred lived in. Some vandalism, nuisance stuff. Gunn was one of the officers who handled it, and they hit it off,” he relayed, remembering how worried he'd been when Fred had reached him on location in Africa and told him about the problem.
“Wow, they've been together for years?” The idea of two people being together for so long was almost foreign to Buffy. Practically everybody she knew, well, had known, had been divorced or broken up. The only relationship she'd seen work had been her parents, but she quickly pushed thoughts of them out of her mind.
“Sort of,” Angel responded. “They dated for a while, then broke up and Fred was seeing someone else but that didn't work out. When Gunn came back to California after his training at Quantico to join the FBI, they started dating again.”
“His name is Gunn?” Who named their kid Gunn? Buffy wondered.
“It's Charles Gunn, actually, but everyone calls him Gunn except for my sister.”
“So you like him?” Buffy pressed further, finding herself intensely curious about Angel, his life, and the people in it.
“Yeah, he's a good guy. I hope he and Fred stay together.” He glanced down at his watch and winced. “I better go, Giles is...,” he trailed off, realizing he'd said her father's name.
“It's okay,” she assured him. “You don't have to avoid the subject of my dad.”
“Well, I um...we have a meeting this morning, so I need to get going,” he finished his previous statement.
“Okay.”
“You'll be fine here today?” He worried about leaving her alone. With the way things went in this town, Angel didn't want anything else to happen to Buffy. But he needed to go to work.
“Yeah. I think I'll watch some TV, or maybe read a book,” Buffy answered casually. She really had no idea what she would spend her day doing. But surely she could find something. Again the restlessness rose. She couldn't go anywhere, not even to a convenience store to get a soda or a sandwich. She was stuck here.
“All right,” he said with a nod and started to walk away. “I should be back by five.”
“Okay. Tell my...” She stopped, unable to voice what had popped into her head. “Never mind.
“I'll tell him your fine,” Angel filled in comfortingly, sensing what she'd been about to say.
“Thanks.”
~`~`~
The day was half gone before Angel the chance to sit back and take a breath. He'd been on the go since the moment he'd walked into the door. And he certainly couldn't forget the meeting he'd had with Giles. Uncomfortable wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe it. They'd been wary and tense, circling each other like a pair of warring buzzards after a piece of road kill. Only, in this case, Buffy was the ultimate prize. Giles still believed they were doing the wrong thing. But Angel hadn't backed down.
Checking the time on the corner of his computer screen, he saw that it was two-thirty. He still had a few hours to go before he could leave. The urge to call Buffy, to make sure she was okay, to hear her voice, rose within him, but he ignored it. She probably wouldn't like him checking up on her. She needed some freedom. Plus, he couldn't take the chance of someone overhearing him. If he slipped up and called her by name, all hell could break loose. So he looked back at his computer and his current project.
Several minutes later, the phone on his desk rang. His first thought was that Buffy was calling him. But then he told himself that was stupid. She wouldn't call, and besides, she didn't even have his work number.
“Hello?” he said after picking up the receiver.
“Angel? What's going on?” his sister asked immediately.
Angel winced. He should have expected this. Still, he played dumb. “What do you mean?”
“Charles told me you called at the crack of dawn this morning, and that you asked him to look at something, newspaper clippings, and some other papers,” she explained hurriedly.
“It's nothing, just something I came across,” he lied. He didn't want to worry his sister, though he knew she would anyway.
“Angel...”
“Really, Fred. It's just something I wanted Gunn's thoughts on.” Another lie. God, he hated lying to Fred, but the less people who knew the situation at the moment, the better. He'd make it up to her.
“You're not telling me something,” she pressed, her concern for her brother evident in her voice.
Angel sighed and rubbed his forehead. He should have known she wouldn't let up. “I can't explain it all right now, but I promise I'll tell you everything when I can.”
“Are you in trouble, Angel?” she asked.
“No.” Well, not really. He could be if things got messy, and if he got on the wrong side of some bad people, namely the mayor and the police chief. He really hoped that didn't happen.
“Angel,” she started, the paused. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I will, I promise,” he tried to reassure her. “Listen, I've got to go. I have a meeting in five minutes. I will call you soon.”
“All right. Bye.
“Love you. Bye.”
~`~`~
When Angel returned back to his beach house, it was a little past five. The foyer was dark and silent when he entered and worry instantly crept up inside him. Had something happened to Buffy? He started to shout out her name, fear clenching in his gut, but logic prevailed. What if there was someone in his house, someone who shouldn't be there? He carefully, quietly, set his briefcase on the floor, but kept his keys in his hand, not a good weapon but a weapon nonetheless.
Just then, he caught the low murmur of something, voices maybe, coming from the direction of the living room. He walked on his tiptoes toward the room, wondering what he'd find. When he peered through the doorway, he wanted to laugh at himself. The murmur came from the TV, which was on with the volume apparently turned down low. And there on the couch was Buffy, sound asleep.
He entered the room further and gazed down at her. She was stretched out fully on the couch, her head on a throw pillow, and one hand tucked under her cheek. She looked absolutely at peace, not a single worry line marring her beautiful face. He was glad she was getting some decent sleep. After all that she'd been through, he had a feeling she didn't often have nightmare-free sleep.
Shadow lifted her furry little head from where she slept curled up next to Buffy's chest. The kitten cocked her head and blinked at Angel, as if accusing him of disturbing her nap. Angel grinned and patted Shadow's head. He wouldn't wake up Buffy. She probably needed the sleep. So he left the room just as quietly as he'd entered. There were plenty of things he could do before Buffy awoke.
~`~`~
Buffy came awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open. She yawned and lifted her head, wondering how long she'd been out. She really hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after watching TV for a while, she'd found herself exhausted. Next to her, Shadow meowed and stood up, giving a little shake to work out the kinks.
“Still here, huh?” she said to the kitten, scratching behind her ears. “You must have been as tired as I was.”
Shadow meowed again then jumped off the couch and stalked out of the room. Buffy sat up, noticing for the first time that it was now dark out. Wow, she must have slept for hours. Was Angel home? she wondered. He had to be, it was way past five, when he'd said he would likely be home. He'd probably decided to leave her sleep. It was something he'd do.
She rose from the couch and stretched, her back protesting from the long nap on the not-as-soft-as-they-looked cushions. In mid-stretch, her stomach growled, reminding her it had been hours since she'd eaten lunch. Maybe she'd go find Angel and see if he had eaten dinner yet.
Angel wasn't in his office so Buffy headed for the kitchen. The room was dark except for the little light on above the stove. Angel obviously wasn't in here either. Before she turned to leave, she noticed the back door was open and that there was a light on outside. She walked over to the door and peered outside. And there was Angel. A whole lot more of Angel than she'd ever seen before.
Her hand stopped midway to the doorknob and she found her eyes riveted to the sight before her. Under the pale light on the back deck, she could see Angel standing next to the hot tub, wearing only a pair of short swimming trunks, with water dripping down his body. His almost naked body.
Oh. My. God. she thought, her eyes taking in the well-toned muscles, the dark tan, the broad back. Her mouth went dry and her hands trembled. He was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.
Buffy could do nothing but stand there and stare at him as he toweled off. All sorts of foreign feelings and emotions assaulted, things she hadn't felt since before...
Instantly, all thoughts of Angel's half-naked body fled her mind at the reminder of what had happened seven years before. She knew what men could do. She knew how they could hurt her. This was wrong. These feelings were wrong. She wasn't ready for any of this.
Backing away from the door, Buffy tried to calm her now rapid breathing. Angel wouldn't hurt her. She knew that. But she couldn't forget what had happened with Cameron. She couldn't ever forget. Angel was wrong. She wouldn't ever be ready to...to be with a man again.
Her heart was still pounding as she tried to think of something, anything, other than the thoughts currently invading her mind. Dinner. Yes, she was hungry. She'd find something to eat. Hurrying over to the pantry, she tried to push everything out of her mind but soothing her still growling stomach.
Five minutes later, she was standing at the stove when she heard Angel enter through the back door. She kept her back turned, focusing solely on the task of fixing dinner.
“Hey,” he greeted her.
“Hi,” she answered back, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, glad to see that he'd put a shirt on. “I thought I'd make some pasta for dinner.” She shook the box of noodles she'd found in the pantry.
Angel was about to tell her she didn't need to cook, but he bit back the response. He could tell she was tense about something. Seeing that, he decided not to say anything about seeing her at the door only a few moments ago. He didn't know what was bothering her, but something told him it had to do with him. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.
“Sounds good,” he replied with a gentle smile.
Before either he or Buffy could say anything else, the phone rang. Angel walked over the cordless phone sitting on one end of the kitchen counter and picked it up. “Hello?”
Gunn's voice came back through to him loud and clear.
“Angel, man, what the hell have you gotten yourself into down there?”
Willow flopped back against the couch in Angel's living room and dropped her feet onto the coffee table. “Ahhh,” she sighed in relaxation. “I really needed a day off. Sometimes I think owing a business is more trouble than it's worth.”
“It must be nice, though. Having something that's all your own,” Buffy clarified. She sat on the opposite side of the couch and pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged.
Ten minutes earlier, Willow had arrived to spend a couple of hours hanging out with Buffy while Angel and Spike went to Giles' house to pick up some more of Buffy's things. Buffy had tried to convince herself to go with them. After all, it would be easier for her to get the things she wanted if she went. But she just couldn't go back there. At least not yet.
Buffy glanced over at Willow and smiled. She was glad to have her there for the afternoon. She was glad to have her best friend back in her life period. After going so long without anyone to talk to, to have a girls' afternoon with, it was just nice to do something so normal.
“It can be kinda cool to own a business,” Willow answered Buffy's question. “But it's a lot of work, all those rules and regulations, ordering stock, the accounting, and all that stuff.”
“Why did you open up the cafe here in Sunnydale?” Buffy asked, having wondered since she'd first heard about Willow and Spike's business. With everything that had happened in the past, she would have thought her friends would have wanted to go elsewhere.
“Money,” Willow stated plainly. “We couldn't afford to move and open a business. Plus, my Dad was our financial backer and he wouldn't help out if we moved. He wanted me to stay here in Sunnydale.”
“But wasn't there...,” Buffy trailed off, not sure how to put her thoughts into words.
“Trouble?” Willow filled in. “Yeah, at first. Cam's family put pressure on their friends to stay away, and they tried to throw up roadblocks for us, but we stuck with it. We had a decent amount of business from the start. The high school kids came in, tourists, plus newcomers to Sunnydale. It's worked out well enough.”
“I'm sorry that...what happened to me caused you guys problems,” Buffy apologized solemnly. Her friendships with Willow and Spike had put them at risk. She hated that all her friends had suffered because of her.
“It's not your fault, Buffy,” Willow assured her sternly. “You never did anything wrong. Cam's family, the mayor, and whoever else, are to blame for all of this.”
Buffy sighed. She knew Willow was right. She hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't asked Cam to rape her, or for everything that had happened afterwards. But everything that had gone wrong in her life, and her friends' and families' lives, went back to that day in the girl's locker room. If only she'd stopped Cam. If only people had believed her. If only.
That was a useless line of thought, and Buffy knew it. The past was the past. She couldn't change it, and she couldn't forget it. And unfortunately, she still as of yet had been able to move past it. She wouldn't be able to move past it until everything with the deaths of her family had been settled. What were the chances of that happening? Buffy wondered.
“Do you think Angel's right? That we'll be able to find out who did it?” Buffy asked, putting her worries into words.
“Honestly?” Willow looked directly at Buffy, trying to decide what she should say. The truth seemed best. “I don't know. I hope so, and I think it's definitely possible. But I just don't know.”
“What will I do if this doesn't get worked out?” Buffy didn't really want to think about that, but she knew it was something she needed to consider. “Angel talked to his friend last night, and the guy seemed to think Angel was nuts for asking him to look at the information. What if he won't help? Or if he doesn't see what Angel saw in the file?”
“Everything will be fine. Angel's friend will help, and he'll believe you're innocent,” Willow tried to assure her. She just hoped she was right. Buffy was starting to look depressed, so Willow decided to change the subject. “So how are things with Angel?” Unfortunately, the distraction tactic didn't work as well as she hoped. A dark, pensive look came over Buffy's face at the mention of Angel.
“Fine,” Buffy lied. Well, it's wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either.
Seeing through the deception, Willow eyed Buffy expectantly. When the blonde said nothing, Willow asked, “what's up?”
What exactly was the problem? Buffy thought to herself. She debated the issue for a moment, but she knew what the issue was. It was the past she couldn't get over. Standing, Buffy paced slowly around the room, wondering what to say to Willow. In the end, she settled on the truth. Maybe Willow could help her understand her feelings better.
“It's all so...confusing,” Buffy settled on saying first.
“What is?”
Releasing a loud sigh, Buffy eased herself down onto the stool in front of one of the living room arm chairs. She rested her arms on her thighs and leaned forward. “One minute, everything is normal, and me and Angel are just two people. There's this...”
At Buffy's pause, Willow supplied the term for her. “Attraction?”
Attraction was a bit tame, Buffy said to herself, but yeah, that was it. “Do you know how long it's been since I've had these...feelings?...for a guy?” she asked, then didn't bother to let Willow answer. “Not since before...before the rape.”
“Before all that happened,” Buffy continued. “I had a crush on a new guy practically every two weeks. I wondered what it would be like to kiss them, to go out on dates, or if I would meet the guy who I'd want to...you know...with. And then after...after the rape, I couldn't think about those kinds of things without feeling sick to my stomach.”
“That's completely normal, Buffy,” Willow assured her. “You went through something utterly horrible, it's normal to have a fear of intimacy afterwards.”
“I know,” Buffy answered with a sigh. She did know that. She'd been told it numerous times. “But there are moments with Angel when I wonder about kissing him, about other stuff. It's like the rape never happened and I'm just a girl and he's just a guy.”
“That's all you really are, when it comes down to it,” said Willow in a rush. She hated seeing Buffy so conflicted. She couldn't even begin to image how hard all of this was for her.
“But were not!” Buffy exclaimed. “Sometimes, it seems like we are. But then last night...-”
“What happened last night? Did Angel do something? If he did, I'll-.”
“No!” Buffy hurried to correct Willow's line of thinking. “No, Angel didn't do anything. It's me.”
“What happened?” Willow asked again.
Buffy began explaining to Willow what had happened the night before, about how she'd been asleep when Angel had come home from work and how she'd gone to look for him. “He was just getting out of the hot tub. All he had on was a swimsuit. And...God!”
“That good, huh?” Willow questioned after seeing the crimson blush creep up Buffy's face.
“You have no idea,” Buffy replied with a shake of her head. “Like Greek God good.”
“So then what?” prodded Willow.
“I just stood there inside the kitchen, staring at him,” Buffy went on. “And all these...these thoughts and feelings were running through me. About how gorgeous he was, about the water drops, about the muscles, and about what a good guy he seemed to be.”
If the situation weren't so serious, Willow would have laughed. Buffy was completely smitten with Angel. She'd wondered about it before, but now she was positive. It was good for Buffy, Willow was sure. Angel would treat her right. There were still a lot of things that needed to be worked out, but maybe something good could come out of all of this.
“I felt like a teenager drooling over a guy,” Buffy said, slightly disgusted by the idea. “But it was so normal. I wanted him. And then...then I remembered.”
“Remembered what?” Willow was pretty sure she know, but she asked anyway.
“The rape. All the sudden it was right there in my mind, every single detail. And I freaked out.” Buffy took a deep breath and thought about the night before. “Then it was like Angel wasn't even there, and all I could think about was what Cam had done to me.”
“What did Angel do?”
“Nothing.” Buffy shook her head. “He didn't see me.” She turned to Willow, a desolate, serious expression on her face. “What if I'm never able to be close to a guy?”
“You will. Someday,” Willow stated absolutely.
“But what it...what if that's what Angel wants? Expects?”
“Then he's not the right guy. But I don't think Angel is like that,” Willow corrected. She thought for a moment, tried to figure out what she should say to her friend. If she had a psych degree this would be so much easier. “Angel will understand, Buffy. He knows about everything you've been through.”
“I just...I don't know if I'll ever be able to be with him. Or any guy,” Buffy explained dejectedly. She felt broken. A normal woman would be able to be close to a guy without freaking out. She couldn't even look at Angel in a bathing suit without wanting to run away.
Willow got up off the couch and sat down next to Buffy on the small foot stool. “You haven't known Angel that long, Buffy. And just because you're attracted to him doesn't mean you have to have sex with him. There are other ways to be intimate that don't involve sex.” She took Buffy's hand, hoping to comfort her friend. “I'm not a therapist or an expert or anything, but if you're really interested in Angel then there are other ways you can be close to him. Hold his hand, watch a movie with your head on his shoulder, share a few kisses. Things like that. You have to let yourself get comfortable with him being close to you physically.”
Considering the suggestions, Buffy leaned tiredly against Willow. Her friend made sense. Was she, Buffy, jumping to far ahead? She really hadn't known Angel that long, and they had only kissed once, what seemed like eons ago. Could she let herself be close to Angel in the way Willow was suggesting. Should she? It was all so confusing. And what if...
“But what if Angel wants more?” she asked the question aloud.
“He'll understand, Buffy. Talk to him. Be honest with him. If he doesn't understand, then he's not the good guy I think he is.”
~`~`~
Angel surveyed the rooms, taking in every detail. They were actually pretty nice, something a young adult would normally enjoy if they still lived at home. There was a lot of space and privacy. The bedroom area was large, divided up into sleeping quarters and a sort of living space. He could see a bathroom to one side of the room, and then to the left of that another door he wondered if led to a mini-kitchen. Probably did. Buffy had to have had some way to feed herself.
There wasn't a lot of furniture, but enough to be comfortable, and all of it nice quality. Yes, in any normal situation a person in their late teens would love the space. But for Buffy it hadn't been about privacy or growing up. It had been about seclusion, and a reminder of all that had gone wrong in her life. He could understand why she wouldn't want to come back here.
Turning to Spike, who like himself was also studying the rooms, Angel said, “I'm surprised Giles isn't here watching over our shoulders.”
“I didn't tell him we were coming,” Spike replied, a hint of malice in his voice at the mention of Buffy's father. He just couldn't hold back his anger that the man had done this to his daughter, even if he could somewhat understand the reasoning behind it.
“Then how did we get in? You had a key,” Angel pointed out.
Spike shrugged. “Willow had one that Buffy had given her years ago. We weren't sure it would still work, but I guess Giles never changed the locks.”
“Oh.”
“I was going to ask him, but he's not my favorite person right now,” Spike then went on to explain further. “He called Willow last night. Claimed he just wanted to make sure Buffy was okay, but then he started in on what we're doing, saying we were putting Buffy in danger. He thinks it's the wrong thing to do.”
“Is that what you think?” Angel asked, hoping he wasn't the only one who believed he was doing what needed to be done.
“No.” Taking a moment to think over the situation, Spike wandered the room. “I'm not sure if it's exactly right, or if it'll work, but hell, man, this can't go on. Buffy can't live her life in hiding, always looking over her shoulder. She didn't kill Joyce, Dawn, and Owen. And if she didn't...”
“Then someone else did.”
“Right. And personally, I don't like the idea of a sadistic murderer roaming around Sunnydale,” Spike muttered. “But this is more about Buffy. She deserves better than this.” He waved a hand around the rooms.
“Yeah,” Angel concurred. “I just hope it works.”
“It's better than sitting around doing nothing.” Spike poked at a stack of magazine's on Buffy's nightstand, unable to hold back a smile. They were all chick magazine's about clothes and beauty tips. Typical Buffy. She'd always been reading that crap. “So,” he faced Angel. “You got that list of stuff we need to pack up?”
Angel pulled the sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “There's not too much on here. Some clothes, stuff from her bathroom, and a few other things.” At the pained look on Spike's face, Angel became confused. “What?”
“Clothes?” he repeated. Angel nodded. “Bloody hell! Does that mean we have to...to go through her underwear?”
Suddenly understanding Spike's wariness, Angel let out an equally disturbed chuckle. He didn't think Buffy had realized exactly what they'd been doing when they made out the list. He'd promised to get the stuff though. “Let's just get this over with.”
“As long as I don't have to look for tampons or anything like that,” Spike mumbled as he went toward the closet.
~`~`~
An hour and a half later, Angel and Spike were walking up the steps of his back porch, lugging two suitcases with them. Spike smiled as he saw Willow standing on the deck, using a hose to water some of the planter boxes along the edge of the deck. He couldn't help but think how pretty she looked.
“Hey guys,” she greeted them, lifting her head for a kiss from her fiance. “I hope you don't mind, Angel. Your plants looked thirsty.”
“No problem. I usually forget to water them.”
“Did you have any trouble?” she asked, shutting off the hose.
“No,” Spike shook his head, then said under his breath. “But it would have been easier if you were there. We had to-to pick out bras and stuff.”
“Aww, poor baby,” she patted his cheek. “It's not like you've never seen underwear before.”
“Mmm, I certainly have. Especially those pretty green, lacy ones you wear,” he shot back suggestively before leaning down to kiss her again.
Angel cleared his throat, uncomfortable about witnessing their intimate moment. They broke apart quickly, Spike grinning at him while Willow blushed. He gazed around. “Where's Buffy?”
“She's inside with the kitten. She wanted to come out with me, but,” Willow shrugged, a certain sadness in her eyes. “With it being daylight, we didn't think it was smart for her to be outside.”
“Right,” Angel agreed, though he understood her sorrow at the situation.
“We were thinking of ordered Chinese for dinner,” Willow blurted out suddenly, needing to break the morose mood that had descended.
“Sounds good, but let's get this stuff inside,” Angel nodded to the suitcases he and Spike had brought back. The three then walked to the back door and entered the kitchen. Buffy's happy laughter greeted Angel the moment he was inside. She was seated on the tile floor, tugging a little mouse across the floor as Shadow batted at it with her paw.
Buffy looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing. “You're back.”
“Yup.” Angel pulled something out from under his arm. “Spike said you might want this.”
Shrieking gleefully, Buffy jumped up and grabbed the item from his hand. “Mr Gordo!” She hugged the worn looking, stuffed, pink pig. “Thank you!”
“What is it with you and that pig? Spike questioned. “You'd think it was made of gold or something!”
Buffy, Willow and Spike laughed. She'd been enduring teasing over the stuffed animal ever since the day they'd gone to a local fair when they were all around eight or nine. Buffy had wanted the pig the moment she'd seen it in a game booth. All the guys, Spike, Xander, and Oz, had spent the next hour, needing to prove their manliness, trying to throw ping pong balls into small jars the required five times in order to win the pig for her. She'd been inseparable from the toy ever since.
Their reminiscent laughter caused Angel to feel a little left out. He didn't know what the story was behind the pig, but if it made Buffy so happy, then that was all that mattered. He'd buy her a thousand stuffed pigs if they would keep that smile on her face.
~`~`~
Later that night, after Willow and Spike had gone home, Buffy sat on the steps in front of Angel's house. It was almost pitch black out as there was only a small sliver of moon visible in the sky. The darkness didn't bother her, though. She'd been living in it for so long that it seemed normal. And she enjoyed the beach at night. The sound of the waves was so comforting.
The advice Willow had given her earlier was still circling around in her head. Could this situation possibly be anymore confusing and complicated? She didn't know how to act around a guy anymore, at least not in a friend-sense. And she certainly didn't know how to be around one without being overwhelmed by past memories.
What she did know was that she liked Angel. In more than a friendly way, given the thoughts that had entered her mind the night before when she'd seen him practically naked. He was nice, and gentle, and kind. And he treated her like a normal person, not like some freak. There was just so much about him to like.
So what was she supposed to do about it? She knew for certain that she couldn't yet handle anything serious. She still felt too raw. Was Willow right, though? Should she pursue casual closeness with him? The idea was...nice. She liked the thought of holding Angel's hand, or sitting next to him while watching a movie. She thought maybe she could try that. But she didn't know if Angel would be okay with that.
Angel was a few years older than her. He had to have been involved in relationships before. A man that looked that good had to have women chasing after him. He'd probably been with numerous women. What if he expected sex from her? What if he turned her away when she told him she wasn't ready to even consider it?
A little voice in her head told her Angel wasn't like that. But still she worried. And she knew she would keep worrying until she did something about the situation. She would have to do as Willow suggested. She'd have to talk to Angel, make sure he understood her feelings. Then, well, she'd just have to see how he reacted.
As if on cue, she heard the door behind her open and felt Angel's presence. Now or never, she told herself.
Buffy and Angel sat on the stairs under the night sky. Neither spoke. Angel was wondering what was on Buffy's mind. She was so quiet and pensive. Something was obviously bothering her. He hoped it was nothing bad.
Next to him, Buffy was trying to figure out how to start the conversation she needed to have with Angel. She still wasn't sure she had the guts to talk to him about what was between them and what she could not let happen. What if she said something about it to him, and he told her that he only thought of her as a friend? Then she would feel like a complete and utter fool. Was she misreading any feelings he may have?
Well, she'd never know unless she talked to him instead of sitting here like a total moron. And she certainly wouldn't be comfortable until her own feelings were out in the open and he understood her stance. Which brought her back to the original issue. How in the world should she start this talk?
She thought about it for a few more minutes. Should she just blurt it out? Should she lead into it? Should she hope he brings it up himself? Or should she just chicken out? No. She couldn't ignore the problem. It would not go away if she did.
Okay, she could do this. And then it came to her. What she should say.
“Angel? Can...can I ask you a question?” she forced herself to ask first.
Tilting his head to look casually at Buffy, Angel bit back a sigh of relief over the fact that she seemed finally ready to talk about whatever was bothering her. “Sure.”
Buffy chewed on her lower lip, as her nerve seemed to abandon her. But she took a deep breath and let the words out in a rush. “Why did you kiss me that night?”
That really hadn't been the question he'd expected. Really not. He opened his mouth to reply, but quickly snapped it shut again. How in the hell was he supposed to answer a question like that?
Sensing his discomfort, Buffy turned her face away. “That's okay, you don't have to tell me.”
“No!” Angel swiftly corrected. “It's not that. I was just...surprised.” His brows lowered in thought. Man, how'd he end up in this situation? “It's just...honestly, I don't know how to answer you.”
Buffy wanted to bang her head on the railing next to her. She'd been hoping his response would let her lead him into what she needed to say to him. But he wasn't cooperating. It looked like she was going to have to be more clear.
Snapping her spine straighter, she made sure to face him fully before speaking again. “Okay. Most times when a guy kisses a girl like that they're...interested.” She sucked in a deep breath, the plunged ahead. “What I'm asking is, did you kiss me because you are, umm, interested, or was it just some...thing...that you did?”
If he hadn't been shocked by Buffy's line of thought before, he definitely was now. When she decided to ask questions, they were doozies. He pushed aside the shock, though, and focused back on what she was asking him about. Buffy wanted to know if he was interested in her as a female Romantically, he assumed. Why in the world did she want to know, and how the hell was he supposed to answer?
Angel's thoughts drifted back to the night before when he'd known Buffy had been watching him from the back door. After he'd come inside, she'd been quiet and acting a bit off. She'd remained that way most of the time he'd been around her today. What had happened the night before to concern her, and then lead to her query?
He'd been relaxing in the hot tub, then he'd gotten out and dried himself off. And Buffy had been watching. His eyes flicked down at his body. A narcissist he wasn't, but Angel knew females found him attractive and liked his body. He'd only been wearing a pair of swim trunks the night before. While Buffy had been watching. Was that what this was about? Had something about that bothered her? Regardless, he needed to answer her. Soon, before she thought he was ignoring her.
How to answer still stumped Angel, though. In the end, he decided to blunt, just as she had been in asking him. “Yes. I'm...interested.”
“Oh,” she said so quietly he almost couldn't hear.
Buffy wasn't sure how he'd answer. None of her predictions, though, could have prepared her for knowing that Angel had a genuine attraction to her, outside of just friendship. It was scary and amazing at the same time. Part of her felt warm and wanted, while another part of her mind whispered to her that she should run, and run fast.
When Buffy didn't say anything, only stared at her feet, Angel felt the need to explain himself. “I think you're an amazing woman, Buffy. Beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. I enjoy sitting and talking with you, or just watching the waves on the beach in silence. You're funny, and smart. There's nothing I don't like about you.”
“Oh,” Buffy said again, this time it was more of a breathy sigh. She wondered if she was blushing, and hoped that if she was, that he couldn't see it. No one had every said such lovely things to her before.
“If there wasn't so much going on with everything...I would ask you out on a date. I'd take you out to dinner at a nice restaurant, then a movie or do something else you like afterwards, and then a walk on the beach,” he continued, the words just spilling out. He managed to catch himself, though, before he frightened her off. Or at least he hoped he did.
For a moment, Buffy wanted to throw her arms around his neck and say Yes! she'd go out with him! Logic prevailed. Or did it? Going to dinner and a movie would be normal. It didn't mean anything had to happen. Willow had suggested to her that starting slow might help, might make her more comfortable. Could she really go on a date with Angel?
Before she could consider that idea more, reality intruded. There was no possible way she could go out with Angel. And not because of her fears, either. She was an accused murderer, and believed dead. She couldn't go anywhere at all.
The sadness that she had been fighting off for days over the fact that she was trapped no matter where she was – in her attic rooms, or here at Angel's – crept back up inside her. Even if she thought she could handle a casual date with Angel, it was impossible.
“What are you thinking about?” Angel requested, breaking into her silent debate.
“That I wished I was normal.”
Angel lifted his hand and tilted her head upwards gently. “You are normal.”
“No,” she disagreed with a shake of her head. “I'm not. There's nothing normal about me.” Buffy stood and paced a few feet away on the sand. “I can't go out on a date, Angel. People think I'm dead and that I killed my family! How is that normal? And even if that wasn't a problem, there's still...”
“Still what?” he asked when she hesitated in finishing.
“There's still the rape.” Her words came out in a harsh, tired whisper, so full of pain and loathing that it nearly broke Angel's heart. Buffy turned away from his kind eyes and faced the dark ocean. She couldn't look at him for the rest of what she had to say.
“I am attracted to you, Angel. You're fun to be around and to talk to. You treat me like I'm a regular person. Ever since I first talked to you on the beach that night, I've felt comfortable around you, and that's not something I've felt around a guy in a long time.” She wrapped her arms around her chest, warding off a coldness that had little to do with the cool ocean breeze. “I watched you last night, and for just a few seconds, everything in the past just...didn't exist, and I was just a girl who wanted to be close to you. But then the memories of that day, of what Cameron did to me, just crashed all around me, and then the thought of being touched by you, or anyone, makes my skin crawl.”
Finally, she rotated to look at Angel again, hoping beyond hope that he would understand. “I am interested, Angel. I want you to know that. I just don't think I could ever be what you want. I don't know if I could ever...ever...you know...with you.”
Angel felt an irrational anger with himself. Somehow, he'd made her feel uncomfortable, that he wanted something from her. He hadn't meant to do that at all. He wasn't sure what he'd done to make her feel this way, but he regretted it nonetheless.
He stood and walked toward her, stopping a foot in front of her. He didn't dare touch her, for fear of scaring her further. All he wanted to do was alleviate her fears.
“I'd never ask you to do something you weren't comfortable with, Buffy,” he told her. “And I'm sorry if I've given you that impression.”
“No!” Buffy quickly cut in. “It's not anything you've done, Angel. It's me. For the first time since...since the rape, I have all these feelings inside me. It's so confusing, and it scares me.”
Taking a risk, Angel lifted a hand to her cheek and lightly touched her soft skin. She didn't flinch, and for that he was grateful. “I can understand that this must be very hard for you given everything that's happened. But I meant what I said. I'd never ask anything of you that you weren't completely willing to give. First and foremost, I'm your friend, and if that's all we ever are, then that's perfectly fine. If someday we're more, then I promise to you I'd never hurt you.”
Buffy's eyes fluttered closed, relief surging through her. He wasn't turning her away. Though she hated herself for it, she couldn't stop the few tears that slipped out from beneath her eyelids. “I thought that if I didn't....that...that you wouldn't want me here.”
“I'd never do that to you,” he swore. “Anything that may or may not happen between us is completely up to you. But I won't ever stop being your friend.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Can I...,” he caught himself, wondering if he should ask. “Can I give you a hug?”
“I'd like that,” she accepted.
Angel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, but made sure not to hold her too tightly. When she snaked her arms around his middle, he sighed and rested cheek on the top of her head. He could feel her light sobs, but said nothing. Even after seven years, she was still dealing with the burden of her rape. But then, she'd never really been given the chance to recover normally, not with everything that had happened afterward. He promised himself, then and there, that he would do anything to help her move on with her life. And if being her friend was all he could be, then he would accept that.
~`~`~
Very early the next morning, Angel was rudely dragged out of sleep by a loud pounding. He dragged a hand through his tousled hair, trying to clear the fog from his head. He'd been having a rather interesting dream about the beach at midnight, a soft blanket, a bottle of wine, and Buffy. And there hadn't been a thing sexual about it. It had just been them, enjoying the warm summer's night while simply being with each other. Angel supposed it was the result of the talk they'd had the night before. Whatever the cause, he'd enjoyed the dream.
Just as Angel was about to let himself drift back into his dreamland, the pounding sounded again. He shook his head. Who the hell was pounding? The construction guys had finished up work on his house a week or so ago. So where was the noise coming from? He heard it again, this time with a clearer head. The door. Someone was pounding on his door.
Angel shot out of bed, suddenly tense. His eyes darted to his alarm clock. It was just past six-thirty in the morning. There shouldn't be anyone at his door. He dashed out of the room, not caring that he was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts.
In the hallway, he came face to face with Buffy. By her expression, he realized that she too had realized early morning guests were not of the norm for him. They both had a right to worry, given the way things were.
Walking up to her, he stopped and took her hand. “Stay up here and don't make any noise, okay?”
She nodded in response, her throat too constricted to allow her to verbally answer.
Without thinking, he kissed her forehead lightly. “Everything will be fine.” He released her hand and started down the stairs, hoping he hadn't just lied to her.
Once on the first floor, Angel strode to the door and poked aside one of the curtains of the window to the right. He frowned at what he saw and quickly opened the door. “Gunn? Why the hell are you pounding on my door so damn early? And why are you here in the first place?”
Gunn, a man of medium stature, dark skin, and a completely shaved head, pushed his way past Angel and into the house. “We need to talk,” he stated once he was inside.
Angel's eyes flicked to the second floor where Buffy was hiding and then back to his sister's boyfriend, and the man he hoped would be able to clear Buffy's name. There was only one reason Gunn would be at his house this early, and that was the information Angel had faxed him. Obviously, Gunn had something to say about it all. Angel hoped it was nothing bad. Gunn was his only hope.
“All right,” Angel agreed, his voice serious. He nodded to the right and led Gunn into the living room. Deciding against sitting, Angel stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his wide chest. “So what's up?”
“First off, where did you get all this information?” Gunn asked as he pulled a folder out of the soft leather bag hanging from his shoulder and waved it in front of Angel's face.
“I printed it out from online news archives,” answered Angel, though he knew Gunn wasn't referring to the news articles.
“Don't play with me, Angel,” he ordered gravely. “I'm talking about the police files. Where did you get access to them?”
Angel sighed and walked to the window. He stared out at the early morning sky, still showing tints of pink and red, before replying. “A...friend...was able to get them for me. That's all I can tell you right now.”
“Okay,” Gunn gave a terse nod. “Second question: Why did you want the information in the first place?”
Now that was a tricky question, Angel thought. He couldn't answer with the truth. That would have meant revealing Buffy's existence, and he wasn't sure what Gunn would do with that information. He'd just have to improvise.
“I heard some stories about some things that happened here, and I decided to check it out.” Angel grimaced in his head. That was pretty damn lame.
“Uh huh,” Gunn grunted. “I hope you know I don't believe that for a second. But I'll let it go for now.”
Strolling over to the coffee table, Gunn dropped the file down, stared at it for a few seconds, then looked back at his friend. Well, they were sort of friends. He was dating Angel's sister and they got along pretty good. They weren't all that close. Gunn hoped that Angel trusted him enough with whatever was going on, because he was sure there was more to this story than Angel was telling him.
“Interesting reading,” Gunn finally said. “I can see why you wanted me to look over all of it.”
Angel said nothing. He wanted Gunn's unbiased thoughts on the events that had happened over the last seven year's in Sunnydale that involved Buffy.
“I read each and every word in there.” Gunn poked at the file. “And it's a complete load of crap.” At Angel's lifted eyebrow, Gunn shook his head. “And I'm guessing you already figured that out. Anybody with half a clue about law and crime scenes would know there's hardly an ounce of truth in any of those papers.”
“Hmm,” was Angel's only response.
“But we'll push that aside for a minute.” Gunn wandered the room, taking in the pictures on the wall. He stopped at the picture Angel had on the mantle of Fred and smiled, but quickly refocused his thoughts on what was important. “There was a name mentioned in there that rang a bell. I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before so I did some quiet digging.”
Gunn went back to the file on the table and pulled out a stapled stack of papers. “Mayor Richard Wilkins III. Seems like he plays a staring role in this little undercover investigation of yours. I thought you might find it interesting that for the last year, he's been under a very hush-hush federal investigation as well.”
Angel jumped to attention, completely stunned. “What?!”
“I'm trusting you keep this to yourself.” Angel nodded his acquiescence. “About a year ago, we brought in a guy for questioning for something in LA. When he realized we could throw him in jail, he offered up some information for a deal. That info led us back to Wilkins, and since then, we've been working on a case for a range of crimes including fraud, conspiracy, blackmail, and an assortment of other charges.”
“Shit,” Angel muttered. He hadn't been expecting all this. Not in the least. He'd known Wilkins was dirty. He'd helped Cameron and his family cover up the rape and likely played a roll in the murders. This was so much bigger than he'd thought. But it was also a shining ray of hope. Clearing Buffy was looking a lot better.
“I need to know what's going on, Angel. All of it,” Gunn requested solemnly.
Before Angel could answer, a soft crash sounded from upstairs. Alarm showed in Angel's eyes but he quickly hid it. He couldn't let Gunn know about Buffy. Not yet. Not until he was sure she would be safe.
“What was that?” Gunn asked suspiciously.
Angel thought swiftly. “Probably my cat.”
“Cat? You have a cat?”
“A kitten,” Angel explained, moving towards the stairs. “Let me go check and make sure she hasn't gotten into trouble.” With that, he climbed the stairs two at a time before Gunn could say anything more.
Upstairs, Angel first went to his bedroom and grabbed a t-shirt, realizing consciously for the first time that he was practically naked. He went toward the guest room that was Buffy's as he pulled the thin white shirt over his head. From the doorway, he could see what had caused the noise. Shadow was sitting on the bedside table, innocently licking a paw while below her, Buffy was kneeling on the floor gathering up a small stack of books. He couldn't help the light chuckle that escaped his lips.
Buffy looked up frantically, her expression that of a deer caught in headlights. “I'm sorry,” she blurted out. “She just jumped up there and knocked them over.”
“It's okay,” Angel assured her as he knelt to help clean up. “I told Gunn it was probably the cat. Lucky guess on my part.”
“Gunn?” Buffy zeroed in on that one detail. “The cop guy? He's here?”
“Yeah, he had some interesting information to fill me in on,” Angel explained as he picked up the stack of books, stood and then placed them on the dresser where the kitten hopefully wouldn't be able to get to them as easily.
“You didn't tell him-”
Angel saw the stricken look on her face and cut in. “No. He doesn't know. I wouldn't do anything to put you in danger. I promise.”
As they stared at each other, a sudden noise jerked both their eyes toward the doorway. Angel cursed under his breath at being some utterly stupid. He moved immediately to Buffy's side, not failing to notice that she'd pressed her back against the wall and was trembling. Damnit. This wasn't going the way he'd hoped.
“Looks like my instincts were right,” Gunn said from where he leaned casually against the doorjam. His eyes zoomed right in on the blonde-headed female tucked against Angel's side. “You must be Buffy Giles. I've been reading a lot about you.”
A mouse could have sneezed and been heard in the deafening silence that had encompassed the room after Gunn's announcement that he knew who the woman was standing next to Angel. On one side of the room, Gunn stood, eagerly anticipating the next chapter of the extremely interesting case that had fallen into this lap. And on the other side of the room, Angel was kicking himself for being so stupid and careless. He was supposed to be protecting Buffy. Letting his FBI agent friend find out she was alive, and not dead as reported, didn't qualify as protecting. He just had to hope that Gunn gave him a chance to explain and plead his case before deciding to haul Buffy in because she was an accused murderer.
Next to Angel, Buffy was completely frozen. She knew the man was Angel's friend, the one he'd contacted to help her. Angel had told her that once his friend knew the whole story, he'd help her. But she was now petrified that he wouldn't believe her story. What if he took her away? What if he put her in jail? She didn't want to leave Angel. She didn't want to go to jail. Shrinking back further in fear, she curled against Angel's side.
Resigned, Angel rubbed at his forehead. He could lie and say Buffy was someone else, but Gunn was a smart guy. There was no way he would buy that, especially considering there were pictures of Buffy in the file he'd sent to Gunn. And judging by Gunn's words moments ago, his friend had his suspicions about Buffy's dead status. It seemed he had no choice now but to fill Gunn in on everything and hope Gunn believed him and kept Buffy's existence secret for now.
Turning to Buffy, he looked into her eyes and held her hand tightly. “He would have found out sooner or later,” he told her softly. Her eyes held his, then darted to Gunn and back. Angel could tell she was worried about what would happen now. “I promise I'll do everything that I can to keep you safe.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before facing Gunn again.
“Well?” Gunn asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes, this is Buffy,” Angel answered after moment, sighing heavily.
Gunn got an 'I-thought-so' look on his face as his suspicions were confirmed. He waited expectantly for Angel to tell him more.
“Why don't we go downstairs and sit down?” suggested Angel. They'd be more comfortable down there, and it would give him some time to decide how to handle this. Gunn nodded and left the room, his footsteps on the stairs soon reaching Angel's ears. Now alone, Angel looked at Buffy again. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head no, still clinging to Angel's hand. “What if he doesn't believe us? What if he thinks I killed them? I don't want to go to jail, Angel!”
“You won't,” Angel promised, hoping it was the truth. He was pretty sure Gunn would see the real truth behind what had happened to Buffy and her family, but he couldn't say that with one-hundred percent certainty. But one thing he was positive about, he would not let Buffy go to jail. He'd do whatever possible to protect her. “The only thing we can do right now is go down there and tell him everything. Once he knows the whole story, he'll see what I did, that you didn't hurt anybody, that you were the victim in all this. And when he knows that, he'll be able to help you.” At least Angel hoped so.
Buffy still looked unsure, so Angel grasped her other hand, and held it in his, warming the cold, clammy skin. “I know you're scared, but talking to Gunn is the only way you may be able to ever put all of this behind you.”
And that was the unfortunate reality of the situation, Buffy realized. If she wanted to have the truth come out, if she wanted to have a life again, she had to step out on a limb and put her future in the hands of someone else. She needed Gunn's help, his belief in her innocence, if she wanted to be free of her past. Everything hinged on his support.
Well, Buffy took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, she would just have to make sure he believed her. “I'm ready,” she said to Angel.
He smiled and squeezed her hands. This wasn't easy for her, Angel knew, but he also knew she realized the importance of talking to Gunn. He'd seen the change in her eyes, from stark fear to acceptance to determination. Her courage awed him. She was prepared to face whatever was to come. And he would be right there by her side.
Within moments, both Angel and Buffy had joined Gunn down in the living room. Gunn was seated in one of the chairs so Angel led Buffy to the couch and sat down next to her. He could feel the tension in Buffy's body, but she was holding on. The best he could do for her now was to get everything out for Gunn to hear so they would know whether his friend believed them and could help.
Angel leaned forward and picked up the file of papers Gunn had brought, the one that contained the printouts of all the information Angel had faxed him. “There's a lot that's not in these papers,” he started off by saying.
“Yeah,” Gunn nodded. “I kinda got that feeling. So why don't you fill me in on the rest.”
So Angel did. He relayed to Gunn every single thing he'd learned since he got involved with Buffy and her past. Starting from the beginning, he told of the ghost stories, what he'd seen, meeting Willow and Spike and all they'd told him. Then he moved on to realizing Buffy was alive and how they'd come to meet. From there, he explained all he'd learned from Buffy herself, and about his own research that led to the conclusion that Buffy had been set up.
All the while, Gunn listened stoically, taking in each and every word Angel said. Near the beginning, he'd pulled out a notepad and occasionally jotted down some notes for personal reference. He never interrupted once with questions, only listened.
Buffy remained silent as well, allowing Angel to tell the story of her life. It was strange, she thought, hearing about the things she'd been through being told in such a factual, detached monologue. She'd lived through it all, but hearing it told this way was just...odd. She had to admit it all sounded so fantastical, like a twisted Hollywood plot. Only, this hadn't come from some writer's mind. It had all happened. To her.
When Angel finished, Gunn set down his pen and thought for several long, drawn out seconds. Finally, he raised his eyes to Buffy. “Anything you want to add to all that?” he asked her.
The first words that came to mind were what Buffy said. “I didn't kill my family.”
Gunn stared straight at her, saying nothing for a moment. Finally, he gave her a small smile. “I believe you.”
Buffy's mouth dropped open in shock. He believed her? It was that simple? She'd thought he would question her, try to tear her story apart and call her a killer. But he wasn't doing anything like that. She had a sudden urge to throw herself on him and say thank you, but she was too frozen to do anything.
Instead, Angel voiced the same thoughts Buffy had. “You believe her, just like that?” Not that he wasn't grateful Gunn seemed to accept the whole story, but he couldn't help but be weary at such a quick announcement.
“Honestly, it was pretty clear from the information you sent me. None of the evidence adds up to what the cops here said it did, and I went over it all thoroughly.” Gunn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “They tried to say this was a crime of rage, Buffy's rage, and her instability. But the crime scene doesn't match that. It was all too pretty, too controlled. That's not normal.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought. There should have been signs of struggle, but it was like they were laid out,” Angel pondered aloud.
“Exactly. That reeks of a professional, not some girl gone crazy.” Gunn winced and looked apologetically at Buffy. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way.”
“It's okay,” Buffy said softly, though she was a bit jarred from hearing his blunt words.
Gunn gave a short nod and went back to his conclusions. “Then there was the fact that not a trace of her blood was apparently found at the scene. That's unusual. If she'd been having some sort of episode and lashed out like that, she would have likely hurt herself accidentally and bled in the room, but only the victims' blood was found.”
“I hadn't considered that,” Angel mumbled.
“And the note,” Gunn went on. “I'm not an expert, but I know a little, and to me it looks like it was written by someone who is left-handed. Only about ten-percent of the population are left-handed. Which are you, Buffy?”
“I, umm, I'm right-handed.”
“That's what I figured,” he said knowingly. “But all that is mostly circumstantial stuff. This is the kicker. There's a report in the police files that blows the whole thing wide open. I can't imagine how they managed to keep it under wraps.”
“What report?” Angel asked sharply. If there was something that proved Buffy's innocence, he wanted to know.
“It's from the medical examiner, reports on the...,” Gunn glanced at Buffy, “the umm, bodies. The ME did a tox screen which at first appears to be normal to a layman, but if you take a closer look, there was a chemical present in all three victims.” Gunn was silent for a minute, allowing the news to sink in before he gave the final piece. “It was a little known drug that, in essence, knocks a person out.”
“Good God!” Angel exclaimed, leaping off the couch. “That's how they did it!” He paced around the room, speaking more to himself than to either Buffy or Gunn. “They put the drug in the ice cream, and then when everyone was out, they snuck in and set up the perfect murder where Buffy would take the fall.”
“The ice cream,” Buffy whispered. Her eye-lids fluttered closed before she opened them and gazed at Angel through tear-filled eyes. “That night...I-I remember Mom bringing in ice cream. It was mint chocolate chip. We never had that kind. We always had the cookie dough, or plain vanilla. I remember Dawn asking who picked out the mint kind and Mom said she thought Dad had. But he didn't, did he”
“I don't think so,” Gunn responded gently, he could see the young woman was completely thrown by this new information. “It looks like they drugged the ice cream and put it in your freezer. No one thinks much about mysterious food appearing in their fridge. So no one would have really thought it odd.”
Buffy was still somewhat lost in her memories of that night. She tried to sort through it all, tried to remember anything she could have forgotten. Nothing came to her, though. Her memories were still the same. “We started eating the ice cream and watching the movies, and then it's like a big hole in my mind until Daddy found me in the closet, and even that I don't remember much of.”
“That makes sense,” Gunn said thoughtfully. “The drug works fairly quickly. You'd just be sitting there eating and having a good time and then you'd nod off. I have a question, though. How would someone know to drug ice cream, and to be at your house that night?”
Blinking, Buffy looked at Gunn, trying to understand what he wanted to know. Her brow furrowed in concentration. “It was a Friday night,” she remembered. “We always had family night then. We'd watch movies together, and munch on ice cream and snacks.”
“And other people knew this?” Gunn prodded.
“I...I think so. Probably. We'd done it for a few years. My father always made sure he didn't have to stay late at work and would be home on time...,” she trailed off, her lips quivering as a new thought occurred to her.
Angel, too, came to the same conclusion. “And that Friday Giles was suddenly held up late at work.”
Gunn tapped a finger on his notepad and considered the recent factual additions. “They would have needed somebody to discover the murders. If you'd all been home, who knows when someone would have come in looking for you.” He thought some more. “So they managed to hold up Mr. Giles at work until the job was done, and then he came home to find it all.”
Grabbing to ease the tension at the back of his neck, Angel found himself disgusted at the lengths these people had gone to destroy Buffy and her family. What kind of people were they? Obviously, not good ones. He glanced at Buffy to see how she was doing and saw that she was sitting perfectly still on the couch, a few tears trailing down her cheeks. Damn. He knew this was going to be too hard on her.
He stalked over to the couch and kneeled down in front of her. “We can take a break if you want.”
Buffy released the breath she hadn't been aware had been caught in her throat. It wasn't easy to stay clinical about something like this that you'd lived through. Still, she knew she had to do it. She was tired of living the way she was. If she wanted to have a life, a real life, she needed to deal with the past. “No,” she said, not as firmly as she'd hoped to. “I'm okay. We need to do this.”
There was one question lingering in her mind, one thing she couldn't seem to stop wondering about. “Why didn't they just kill me? Why kill my family and leave me there?” She couldn't help but want to know the answer to that question. Wouldn't it have been the ultimate revenge to them if they just killed her?
“I can't say for sure,” Gunn began. “But my guess is they wanted you to pay for accusing the police chief's son of rape and causing trouble. These kinds of people see themselves as all-powerful gods. You tried to take away some of that power and that just wasn't acceptable to them. If they'd killed you, you wouldn't have suffered. So they set you up for murder. They probably had been planning it for a while. From what you've told me, a lot of things happened to make you seem unstable. They could have been facilitating that to aid in their big plan. When they killed your family, they planned for you to take the fall and spend the rest of your life in jail or some state-run psych ward.”
“But Giles threw a big monkey-wrench in their plan by hiding Buffy,” Angel continued.
“Yeah, and made it seem like she'd killed herself. I can't imagine that Walker and his good buddy the mayor were too happy about that, but then again, they may have found it poetic that it seemed as though Buffy woke up from the drugged sleep, saw what happened, and decided to throw herself off the cliff,” Gunn posed. The whole thing was disturbing, but in his years working in law enforcement, he'd seen some pretty ugly stuff.
“How can people do things like this? How can they get away with it?” Buffy wanted to know, her hands shaking. She wanted to ask why her, but she already knew the answer to that. She'd accused Cameron of rape, and for that, they believed she needed to pay. Her entire life, and her family's life, had been ruined because of what had happened with Cameron. If only she hadn't gone to the swim meet that day...
“Power and money can often get people whatever they want,” Gunn answered, his voice tired. It was a common finding in his work. “Chief Walker and Mayor Wilkins go back a long way, and between them, they've got a lot of money and a lot of power. Push the right buttons, offer the right dollar amount, and people tend to do whatever they want. They got the rape pushed aside and then did everything they could to tear you down. With the murders, well if they've got the right people under their thumb, and I'm guessing they do from what I've seen, it would only take a few well-placed pushes to keep information from being found out, like what's on those autopsy reports.”
Dropping down onto the couch, Angel put and arm around Buffy, hoping to offer her whatever comfort possibly. “You hear about shit like this, but you never think that it really happens in real life.”
“The world can be a pretty ugly place,” Gunn commiserated. “It's just that most times, the average person doesn't know about it.”
Beside Angel, Buffy was doing her best to keep her emotions below the surface. She didn't quite know what she was feeling. There was one part of her that was chilled to the bone over the details of what had happened the night of her family's murders. Gunn had spoken so clinically about that night, and she knew that was just part of his job, but it still cut deep. To hear about how they'd been murdered, well, it was difficult not to curl herself into a ball and cry. Her mind flashed back to finding herself sitting on the couch while the movie credits rolled, and then the horrifying moments when she saw her Mom, brother and sister laid out like a nightmarish painting. A shudder worked through her over the images of blood and blindly staring eyes that were forever etched in her mind. She pushed the mental pictures away, unable to face them. She didn't think she ever would be.
Alongside the gut-wrenching sadness over her memories of that night was an almost equal feeling of guilt and responsibility. This had all happened because of her, because of what had happened with Cameron. If she'd done something, anything, different, none of this would have happened. If she'd just gone straight to helping Spike in the library instead of going to the swim meet, if she'd not gone with Cam while there, if she'd not named him as her attacker, her family would still be alive. If. If. If. So many things she could have done differently to keep her family safe. But she hadn't, and they had been killed because of her. Was that why her father kept her locked away? Did he blame her, as he should?
“Buffy?”
The calling of her name jarred her from her descent into self-recriminations, but her thoughts were still swirling. She couldn't get away from the fact that she'd brought so much pain to the people she loved most.
“Are you okay?” someone asked her. She wasn't sure who, the voice sounded too far away.
“This is all my fault,” she mumbled, barely heard to the two who were staring at her, concern in their eyes. Buffy blinked, her eyes focusing on Angel as he slipped off the couch to kneel in front of her. “They would still be alive if it weren't for me.”
“No, Buffy, none of this was your fault,” Angel said, reaching up to gently touch her face, to keep her from turning her eyes away from his. “You didn't ask for what Cameron Walker did to you, or for what happened after. Cameron, the police, the mayor, and practically everyone in this town are to blame for what they did to you. They killed your family. There's nothing you could have done to stop it.”
“But I was the one who started it,” she cried, no longer able to keep her tears held inside.
“No, you didn't. Cameron started it. He raped you, attacked you. He's the one to blame, him and his family and friends,” Angel stated vehemently, all the while wishing he could do something to ease her pain. There wasn't anything he could do, though. Buffy would forever live with the hurt and the what-ifs of what had happened to her.
“I miss them, Angel,” she weeped, allowing herself to curl into Angel's arms as he held them out to her. “I miss my Mom, and Dawn, and Owen. Why did they have to die?”
Angel didn't have an answer to that, however much he wished that he did. So instead he held Buffy in his arms, soothing her with his touch and simple words of comfort. It was all he could do, at least for now. He would hold her as she cried, help her to expunge some of pain that she still held inside.
With a quick look at Gunn, Angel scooped Buffy up and stood. She couldn't handle anymore talk today about the past. There was only so much a person could handle. He'd take her upstairs and settle her into her bed before finishing up with Gunn. Then he would try to figure out a way to take her mind off things, if only for a little while.
By the time Angel had deposited Buffy on the guest bed, she had already fallen into an exhausted, tear-stained slumber. He pulled the covers around her and then picked up Shadow, who was staring up at him, and set her down next to Buffy. The kitten promptly curled up next to her, but kept her eyes open, as if assigning herself Buffy's guardian. Angel patted the kitten lightly, then made himself go back downstairs to where Gunn was waiting.
His friend was standing in the foyer when Angel returned. “Is she okay?” he asked Angel.
“Not really. I don't know how she managed to survive this long with the load she's got on her shoulders,” Angel sighed sadly, his eyes drifting to the stairs, towards Buffy.
“She's a strong woman, Angel. If she's made it this far, she'll make it the rest of the way.” Gunn laid a hand on Angel's shoulder, offering support. “Listen, I'm going to have to bring in a team to investigate this.”
The statement didn't come as a complete surprise to Angel, but still it made him cringe. The more people that know, the more danger Buffy would be in. There were no guarantees that others in the FBI would see things as he did, as Gunn apparently did. “I suppose that's necessary?”
“I don't have a choice. This is big. If we have any hope of bringing in those responsible, it's going to require a full scale investigation, not just me confirming you're suspicions,” Gunn affirmed.
“What if they want to take Buffy in. She is a suspected murder,” Angel pointed out.
“They'll see the truth, just as I did,” Gunn retorted. “Trust me, Angel. I'll do whatever I can to make sure Buffy's safe. I can tell she means a lot to you.” And wouldn't that be an interesting thing to tell Fred, he thought silently.
“I just don't want to see her hurt anymore.”
“I can't make promises. I wish I could, but I'll do whatever I can to make this as easy as possible on her,” Gunn assured his friend.
“What happens now?” Angel asked, prying his thoughts away from Buffy, who he hoped was still asleep upstairs.
“I'm headed back to LA. Hopefully, I can gather the team that is already investigating Wilkins today.” Gunn mentally made a list of what he'd have to do once back in his office. “I'm going to make copies of everything you gave me and then give them to the team. I'll be able to judge their reactions better that way before I tell them the rest.”
“I won't let her be taken to jail,” Angel swore, deadly serious.
“It won't come to that. They'll see she's a victim.” Gunn prayed he wasn't lying.
“You'll call me after you talk to them?”
“First thing,” promised Gunn, looking down at his watch. “I better get going.”
Angel walked Gunn out and followed him to his car. He was silent as Gunn placed his bag on the back seat and opened the driver's side door. Angel's mind was once again on Buffy, on what he could do to ease some of her torment. There had to be something that would take her away from all this for a short while.
As Angel stared out at the lurching waves of the ocean, an idea began to form in his mind. He rolled the details around, trying out the possibilities. It would probably work, and it would likely be good for both of them. So he turned to Gunn as his friend pulled on his seat belt and started the car.
“Listen, I'd like to do something,” Angel began, then relayed his idea to Gunn.
After listening to Angel's plan, Gunn considered it for a moment. “I can't say it's a great idea, strictly from a situational standpoint, but I can't see the harm.”
“Good. She really needs this.” Angel's eyes flicked to his house. Yes, she really did need it.
“Just be careful,” Gunn ordered. “These people are bad to the core, Angel. They'll do whatever necessary to save their asses. So watch your back.”
“Don't worry, I'll keep my eyes opened,” Angel promised.
The two said their good-byes and Angel watched as the car rolled down the driveway and then out of sight. He knew Gunn would do whatever he could to see that justice was done, but Angel couldn't help worrying that something might go wrong. Buffy had already been failed by the system once. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that it could happen again. He had to believe, though, that the cards were stacked on Buffy's side this time. The outside help would be unbiased and see the truth. He hoped.
For now, he couldn't do anything else. It was time to focus on what he wanted to do for Buffy tomorrow. Pulling out his cell phone, Angel dialed and waited while it rang. After two rings, the call was answered.
“Willow, I need a favor,” he requested.
Angel stood in the doorway to the guest room that had become Buffy's room and smiled. Buffy was awake and lying on her back with Shadow perched on her stomach. The two seemed to be having an intense conversation with their eyes only. He wondered what they were talking about. At least there was a small smile on Buffy's face. He'd been afraid the meeting with Gunn the day before had been too much for her. This just further showed how strong she was.
Still, Angel wished that he could have done something more for her yesterday. She'd been hit hard with the frank talk of the murders, which was understandable. After Gunn had left, she'd slept the remainder of the morning and a portion of the afternoon. Throughout their early dinner, she'd stayed quiet and pensive, and then gone up to her room afterwards. He'd left her alone, knowing she'd need some time to herself. If she'd needed him, he would have been there for her, but there hadn't been a peep from her room the entire night.
Today was a new day, though, and he had plans. He was going to give Buffy something he knew she wanted but thought she couldn't have. He had everything set up in his head. This was going to be a perfect day.
“Hey,” he said, taking a step into the room.
Startled at the intrusion, Buffy jumped slightly but then smiled when she saw that it was only Angel. “Hi. You're up early.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, giving nothing away of his idea yet. “Spending some quality time with Shadow?”
Buffy laughed and scratched the kitten's back. “We were having a staring contest.” She mock-frowned at the kitten. “I lost every time.”
Chuckling, Angel walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He cocked his head and stared at the kitten, who eyed him back. The spur of the moment contest lasted a minute before Angel blinked. “Looks like I lose, too.”
“Maybe her eyelids are glued open,” Buffy mused out loud.
“Maybe,” he shook his head at the odd little furball. Angel was quiet for a long thirty seconds before finally broaching the subject on his mind with Buffy. “Want to go out today? Away from the house?”
Out? A brilliant grin broke out on Buffy's face. Of course she wanted to go out! It'd been...
Her thoughts trailed off as reality set in. There was a reason she hadn't been anywhere in a really long time. For three years after the rape she'd avoided going places because of what had happened and the way people treated here, and then for the last four years she'd been secluded in the attic of her father's house. She hadn't really wanted to go anywhere during that time. Her thoughts hadn't been on having fun. But now that she was facing the world again, she'd wanted to do normal things. Angel knew that she couldn't. He knew people thought her dead and a murderer. How could he possibly suggest she could leave his house?!
“You know I can't,” she mumbled, disheartened at the realities of her life.
“No, not here in Sunnydale,” he corrected what Buffy thought. “I want to take you up to LA. It's only a two hour drive. We could do anything you want once we got there.”
A blossom of hope formed in Buffy. Go to LA? Could the really do something like that? It would be so nice to be just a girl for an afternoon and do whatever she wanted. They could go to a mall, eat in a restaurant, or just walk down a sidewalk. She'd give anything to do stuff like that. Ever since her life had taken yet another turn recently, she'd begun to crave normalcy. She wanted the freedom to do anything and everything. But...
“What if someone from here saw me? They could be in Los Angeles too,” she voiced her hesitancy.
“I guess it's possible, but with all the people in LA it's not likely. Besides, I thought of that.” Angel held up the bag he'd brought into the room with him. “I had Willow bring these over for me. There's a hat, and a pair of sunglasses to make your appearance less noticeable, and there's also a baggy t-shirt to be on the safe side.”
Though she was starting to believe Angel's idea was possible, the need to essentially disguise herself hit Buffy hard. It was just another reminder that her life was an absolute mess. Not only couldn't she just go out anywhere in the town she'd grown up in, she had to go two hours away to the large city of Los Angeles. And even then, she had to dress herself up to make her appearance less obvious. Still, she understood the necessity of it. She'd likely be easily recognizable to certain people here in Sunnydale if they should happen to be in LA while she was there. If she was there.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” she again stated her fears.
“Everything will be fine. Trust me?” Angel held out a hand, asking in action instead of words to put her faith in him. He just hoped he'd never let her down. It took only a few seconds before Buffy placed her hand in his. Giving her a warm smile, he tugged her off the bed. “Why don't you go shower and get ready? I'll be waiting downstairs for you.”
“Okay.” Buffy took the plastic bag from Angel and walked out of the room. All the while, she found herself torn over the joy of being able to go someplace, and the heartbreak over how complicated that very simple action was in her life.
~`~`~
They had been traveling on the highway towards Los Angeles for over fifteen minutes before Angel felt his muscles begin to relax. He hadn't expected getting Buffy safely out of Sunnydale would make him so nervous. The whole way out of town, he'd kept expecting to see a car following, or for something else, anything else, to happen. So he'd taken absolutely no chances.
Before they left, he'd pulled his car into the garage so Buffy could get in without having to go outside. Once they were both in the car and ready to go, he had worried more. What if someone drove past them and saw him with someone in the car? There'd be no reason for one of the Mayor's or police chief's cronies to suspect it was Buffy, after all they thought she was dead, but he couldn't stop running through scenarios. To be on the safe side, he'd had Buffy lower the back of her seat as low as possible so that she wasn't visible to any car going past or following behind them. She'd done as he'd asked, but he could tell it bothered her.
To make sure no one was following him, though he could think of no reason someone would, he'd taken back roads out of Sunnydale. The less traveled, the better in his opinion. That wasn't because he wanted to limit who saw him. He'd done that because he had wanted to get on a road with no other traffic. If there were no cars in sight, then he could be reasonably sure that no one was following him. Luck was with him as they'd traveled two different roads without any cars behind them, and he hadn't seen any cars follow them up the on-ramp leading onto the highway.
Angel was taking all of that as a good sign that they made a clean getaway. “You can put your seat up now,” he told Buffy who was still reclining next to him, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.
“You're sure?” she asked nervously, her hands gripping the side of the seat.
“Yeah.” Angel reached over and clasped one of her hands. “Everything will be fine.”
Buffy waited several long seconds before finally reaching down and grabbing the handle that would allow her to raise the seat. Slowly, her seat inclined, inch by inch. As it did so, Buffy's eyes were trained straight ahead, the world before her being revealed more and more as each second passed. She couldn't stop staring at the sights that greeted her eyes.
There wasn't anything particularly attractive about the stretch of highway. All it was, was a long slab of concrete dotted with a myriad of cars, but to Buffy it was like catching a glimpse of something rare and beautiful. The only things she'd seen for the last four years were her rooms, her house, the beach, and recently, Angel's house. Four years of the same thing day after day after day. Seeing a plain old highway with people whizzing past in cars was exciting in a way she couldn't describe. She leaned forward as far as her seat belt allowed, until her chin almost rested on the dashboard, taking in each and every little detail.
Next to her, Angel wondered what Buffy was thinking. He'd seen the emotions cross her face, amazement, wonder, and just a hint of sadness. Considering her restricted world the last few years, he could understand the reaction. She was seeing the world again for the first time in four years. Everything probably had a pretty sheen to it that otherwise wouldn't be there. He was glad that he could give her this, at least for a day.
“Glad you came?” he inquired, signaling to pass a slower vehicle.
“Yeah,” she breathed out, eyes not leaving the sights around her.
Wanting to give her the most out of the experience, Angel reached for the CD he'd set in the console and popped it into the player. Willow had told him it was a band Buffy had loved years ago. From the giddy look on her face, he figured she still did. So he cranked up the volume to near ear busting level and then reached up to push the button to open the sunroof followed by the window controls. Soon, the car was flying down the highway, music blaring away, and wind blowing through their hair.
~`~`~
Just a little over an hour later, Angel saw the road sign he was looking for. Putting on his turn signal, he merged into the right lane. After another mile, he saw the off-ramp and signaled again, leaving the highway behind him.
“I thought we were going to LA?” Buffy questioned, turning her head to stare at the highway that was getting farther away on their left.
“A lot of people consider this LA,” he informed her. “Have you ever been to Santa Monica?”
“No.”
“You'll love it. I promise.” At the end of the ramp, Angel had to decide which way to go. He was pretty family with Santa Monica. Fred loved to come here and they'd visited often after she'd moved in with him years ago. There were three areas he wanted to hit. But which one first? He decided quickly since the person behind him started honking their horn.
A few minutes later, he turned onto Lincoln Boulevard, and then Ocean Park Boulevard which he followed west toward the ocean. There was parking in that area, he knew. Once they parked, they would be able to walk to pretty much everywhere. He didn't think Buffy would mind hoofing it a bit. She'd probably enjoy the fresh air, the sights, and mostly, the freedom.
Throughout the entire drive to their destination, Buffy's eyes were glued to the window. So many people! They were everywhere. And so many places to see and go! It was more than a little intimidating. At one time, she would have shied away from such a place. Here and now, though, this was an entirely different world where she was just another person. A tourist at that. She itched to get out and do everything and anything.
After parking, Angel directed Buffy onto Barnard Way towards their first stop. They walked in silence, simply allowing themselves to absorb the experience. Angel had expected Buffy to be wary, to maybe shy away from such a populated area, but she was nothing of the sort. She seemed almost awed by it all. He knew by the expression on her face that he had done the right thing. This was exactly what they needed.
Finally, they reached the southern end of Main Street, one of the most popular shopping districts in Santa Monica. Angel saw Buffy's eyes light up. He wanted to laugh. Take a girl shopping, and you were virtually guaranteed to be her hero. Of course, Willow had also told him that Buffy loved to shop, but he would just keep that to himself.
Before Buffy could start down the street, Angel tugged on her hand. She gazed at him to see a semi-serious look on his face. Worried that something was wrong, she abruptly stopped. A question was on the tip of her tongue when Angel spoke.
“I want you to promise me something,” he requested.
“Okay.”
“Anything you want while we're here, all you have to do is ask,” he said softly, giving a squeeze to her hand. She'd had four years of nothing, and he found himself wanting to give her anything.
“What do you mean?” she asked, though she thought she knew. He couldn't be suggesting that, though.
“I mean, anything you see in any of these shops is yours if you want it,” he clarified for her.
“But, Angel.” Buffy's eyes darted to all the stores. “You can't do that. And these places don't look like they are exactly cheap.”
“I can afford it, Buffy. I've never been one to spend much, and I'm hardly poor,” he relayed, knowing he was making an odd request. “Please, do it for me?”
Buffy nibbled on her lower lip. She shouldn't accept what he was saying. How could she let him spend the kind of money that would be required here on her? It wasn't right. She didn't want to offend him, though. Angel seemed to really want to do this. So she nodded her head, but promised herself silently that she'd show some restraint.
~`~`~
An hour and a half later, they finally neared the end of Main Street. Angel was enjoying himself quite a bit. Grant it, shopping wasn't exactly a favored activity of his, but he really was having fun. For the most part, they had just walked and window shopped, but he had managed to get Buffy into a few stores so he could buy her some presents. Her reluctance was obvious, but eventually she had relented. It also helped that they had decided to buy gifts for her friends. Well, Angel guessed, they were also his friends now too.
First stop had been The Bey's Garden where Buffy had wanted to get Willow a set of aromatherapy lotions since her friend loved nature-y kind of stuff. On Pier Street, just off Main, Buffy had insisted they go into Angel City Books because of it's name. They'd decided to get a rare book of old English poetry for Spike since he had a secret love of that kind of thing. At Indigo Flower, they'd picked out a more stylish hat for Buffy to wear for the day.
When they'd passed Paris 1900, Buffy had been mesmerized by the antique clothing and bridal gowns. Angel had to admit they'd been quite beautiful. He kept to himself the fact that he thought Buffy would have looked amazing in them.
At Monkie/Citygirl, Angel had coerced Buffy into trying on a pretty sundress in swirling shades of purple. The dress was a perfect match to the necklace he'd picked out for her at Accents Jewelry Design. The colors went nicely with the sterling silver and amethyst choker. As he'd expected, the dress had looked wonderful on Buffy, and if possible, even better when she put the necklace on. She'd done her best to convince him not to buy the dress, but he hadn't listened. He wanted her to have it. Someday, he would be able to take her out wearing the outfit.
Even though he had already purchased several things for Buffy, Angel wanted to do more. Everything she'd gotten had been more his doing. Sure, in the end, she'd had some say, but he had done the motivating. There had to be something she really wanted.
Luck seemed to be on his side once again, because out of the corner of his eye, he caught Buffy staring at a shop across the street. Her hand reached up to comb through her long hair and her teeth caught her lower lip, gnawing on it lightly. Unobtrusively, he glanced at the shop. Ambiance. A hair salon. Angel held back a smile. Buffy wanted to get her hair done. Given that her hair was quite long, it wasn't a large leap to guess that she hadn't had it cut in four years. Would she ask him if they could go in there though?
Buffy slid a glance at Angel. He was idly perusing the things in the window of the store next to them. Her eyes flicked back to the salon across the street. She fingered a strand of her hair. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had it cut. Well, that is if you didn't count the two times she'd taken scissors to it herself just to keep it manageable. It would be so nice to have it done by someone else.
She couldn't ask Angel to take her there, could she? He'd already bought so much today. The dress hadn't been cheap, or any of the other stuff. He hadn't had a single qualm, though. In actuality, he'd seemed more than happy to make the purchases. Even so, she didn't want to take advantage of his generosity. Then again, he had told her to ask for anything.
Debating for several more minutes, Buffy finally faced Angel. “Angel?”
“Hmm?” He tried to hide his smile. Sooner or later, he'd known she'd ask.
“Could we...could, um, we go over there,” she pointed to the salon.
Angel was tempted to tease her, but she was already uneasy so he refrained. “Sure,” he answered, as if the request was nothing. Taking her hand, he led her across the busy street and into the salon. “Why don't you look at the magazine's while I see if they can fit you in.”
A woman with elaborately styled black hair greeted him at the front desk. He spoke quietly to her, and ten minutes later, after having slipped a few extra bills into the woman's hand to get Buffy an immediate appointment despite their busy schedule, Buffy was being led into the back to the back. The stylist also had orders to give Buffy the works. If he'd left the decision completely up to her, Buffy probably would have only gotten a cut, but he wanted her to have the works. She deserved to be pampered a bit, and other than his sister, Angel had never had the opportunity to spoil anyone before.
The hour and a half he waited doing mostly nothing should have annoyed him, but it didn't. Well, only a little, but just because he was bored. The magazines in the reception area occupied some of the time. He also made some calls to his office to do some follow-ups on some work. Thankfully, by the time he was about to get up and start pacing around, he could hear Buffy's voice drifting closer and closer as if she were walking toward the front.
Staring at the entranceway, Angel's jaw dropped when Buffy walked through. She looked absolutely amazing! Her hair had been trimmed to shoulder length with layers of different lengths added to give it some body. The blonde color was toned down just a bit and Angel thought the stylist must have also done highlights because there seemed to be variations in the color. Overall, the look was stunning. It transformed Buffy's previous girlish look and made her seem more like the young woman she really was.
“You look great,” Angel managed to say after he wrapped his mind around the change.
Buffy's hand fluttered to her shortened locks. “You don't think it's too much?”
“No, I think it's perfect,” he reiterated. Sensing Buffy's concern, Angel was suddenly worried that he had pushed her too much. “You don't like it?”
“No! I do. It...it's just different. I was kind of used to it being long,” she quickly explained. “But I do like it.”
“Good,” Angel gave her a smile as he went over to the counter to pay the bill.
Once they were back outside, Angel glanced up and down the street and considered what they should do next. “Why don't we get some lunch? We've still got a lot of stuff do today, but I know I'm hungry. Are you?”
“Yeah. Where should we eat?” She remembered that they had passed a bunch of restaurants on their walk down what Angel called Main Street.
“We can catch the Tide Shuttle and take it over to the next area and find someplace,” he pondered aloud as he saw the bus coming toward them on the opposite side of the street. “Come on, we can catch that one if we hurry.”
They rushed over toward the bus stop and waited as the turquoise colored bus approached. “The Tide Shuttle runs on a loop around certain areas of Santa Monica,” Angel relayed the information he knew, thinking Buffy would find it interesting. “The buses are electrical so they are completely non-polluting.”
“Really? That's pretty cool,” Buffy agreed and then followed Angel on board once the bus had stopped.
Finding an empty seat, Angel let Buffy sit on the inside so that she could be by the window. He'd seen all of this before, but she hadn't. “We're heading over to the Third Street Promenade,” he explained. “It's sort of like Main Street. There are places to eat and more shops.”
~`~`~
The Third Street Promenade offered much of the same as Main Street so they didn't spend much time there in the end. They had a quick lunch at Cafe Crepe and wandered the walkway, browsing the windows of the shops. Only Tower Records had enticed Buffy to enter. Both of them found a few CD's they wanted, and also picked out a DVD for Xander since they had gotten things for Willow and Spike.
Before too long, they were back on the Tide Shuttle headed to Angel's last planned destination of the day. Angel worried that Buffy may be getting tired. She wasn't used to so much activity, but one look at her face showed that she was clearly wide-awake. He was glad she was enjoying herself.
When the bus stopped at the next location, Angel guided Buffy off and then directed her west, towards their last stop. He saw her eyes widen instantly at the sight that greeted her. He couldn't blame her, it was quite a visual, with the carnival atmosphere of the roller coast, ferris wheel and other amusements. This had always been Fred's favorite part of Santa Monica, and if he was guessing right, Buffy would love it as well.
“Where are we?” she asked in wonder.
“The Santa Monica Pier,” he answered as they both stood staring at the entertainment area before them. “The original pier was built in 1909, and then in 1916 Looff's Pier, the shorter southern part, was constructed to hold more rides along with the Hippodrome building. When the La Monica Ballroom was added in 1924, some of the earliest radio and TV broadcasts were hosted there.”
“How do you know all this?” she gazed at him curiously.
“I like to read,” he answered with a shrug, then continued to tell her more. “The city voted to tear the pier down in 1973 because it had deteriorated so much, but the people fought back and eventually a massive reconstruction and stabilization effort followed. It helped that the Hippodrome and the carousel became National Historic Landmarks. So the pier stayed and now it gets somewhere around three million visitor's a year.”
“Wow.” Buffy grinned at Angel, anxious to go check out everything. She couldn't remember the last time she had been to an amusement park type place. That thought brought a wave a sadness. Her family had used to go to such things together. She forced the bad thoughts away. She didn't want today over shadowed by her past. Today was for fun. “Come on,” she tugged on Angel's arm. “Let's go.”
~`~`~
Hours passed in a flash as Buffy and Angel toured the pier. They rode the fully restored, antique carousel housed in the Hippodrome, wandered around the Santa Monica Bay Aquarium where they played in the three touch tanks, and rode each and every one of the six adult rides at Pacific Park, Santa Monica Pier's amusement park. Angel couldn't remember a time when he'd had more fun, and Buffy hadn't stopped smiling the entire time.
As they made their way off the Pacific Plunge, a nine-story tower drop, Angel swayed a little bit. He hadn't been on a ride like that in a long time and his stomach was revolting slightly. “I think I'm glad that's the last ride,” he muttered to himself, but Buffy heard.
“Oh come on, Angel! That was fun!” she chirped, skipping down the exit line, completely unaffected by the vertical drop she'd just experienced.
“I'm just glad we didn't eat right before riding,” he yelled after her, shaking his head. At the end of the line, he grabbed their bags back from one of the ride operators who'd been nice enough to offer to watch them. “Ready to go hit the arcade?”
“That's all we have left, right?” Buffy tried to remember all the things Angel had told her there were to do on the pier. She thought the arcade was all that remained.
“Yeah, it's right over there,” he pointed in the direction of Playland Arcade.
Angel held open the door for Buffy as they entered and was assaulted by all the beeps and chimes of the over two-hundred plus games housed in the building. A pair of little kids, followed by two weary adults, dashed past him just inside the door. He laughed and stepped out of the way, hoping he'd survive this latest activity.
“We have to check out the prizes first,” Buffy told him, already making her way to the section of the building that housed all the items a person could win by playing the games.
“Shouldn't we get some prize tickets first?” he asked, diligently following behind.
“No, silly! You should always check out what you can win before you play. That way you know what you need to win!,” she relayed, exasperated at Angel's apparent cluelessness.
Buffy stood at the counter and scanned the rows and rows of toys and favors that were available as prizes. A lot of them were cheesy little things like rubber bracelets and gaudy plastic rings, but there was also some high end stuff. Those were a bit out of reach, though. Suddenly, her eyes landed on the perfect target.
“Oh, Angel! Look!” she gestured excitedly to something on a shelf against the wall.
“What?” he looked, but didn't see anything special.
“The pig! It'd be a perfect match for Mr. Gordo!” she explained, referring to a small, stuffed pink pig that had a purple bow on its head. “It's only a hundred and fifteen tickets! We can get that many!”
As it happened, it took them over an hour and a half to win enough prize tickets. At least, Angel thought, there had been a wide variety of games that offered tickets. If he'd had to play skeeball the whole time, he probably would have gone insane. He'd had much better luck at the basketball game.
By the time they finished, Buffy was clutching the pig, which she'd already named Mrs. Gordo. He would have thought it silly, but anything that put a smile on Buffy's face, including a stuffed pig, was fine with him. He was just glad to get back outside and away from all the noise inside the arcade.
When his stomach growled, Angel glanced down at his watch. He was shocked to see that it was already after seven at night. The day had just flown by. Seeing a food vendor nearby, he pulled a few bills from his wallet. “Why don't you go grab us some food?”
“Sure.” Buffy took the money and trotted off to the food stand, not even thinking to ask Angel what he wanted.
She had only been gone a minute when Angel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Yanking it out, he looked at the display and felt his good mood deflate. He contemplated ignoring it, but knew he couldn't. With much trepidation, he answered and exchanged a short conversation with the caller. He finished quickly and had the phone back in his pocket before Buffy returned. He didn't want to ruin her day just yet.
They found a quieter section of the pier to eat on. Angel was unexpectedly silent while they sat on the bench, munching on hot dogs and fries. His silence worried Buffy. Throughout the day he'd been light-hearted and chatty, but now he seemed distracted. Something had happened while she'd been getting food. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that something had changed.
Buffy waited until they had finished eating and were sitting, staring out at the ocean, before asking. “What's wrong?”
The urge to keep the phone call to himself was strong, but Angel had to tell her. He hated it. They'd had such a perfect day, and now he was going to bring the past back to the forefront. There wasn't anything he could do about it, unfortunately.
“Gunn called,” he finally answered after much contemplation.
Instantly on alert, Buffy's eyes darted all around them, expecting some sort of danger. “Did...did something happen?”
“Not exactly,” he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I told you that he wanted to gather the team investigating Wilkins. He wasn't able to do it yesterday after he got back to LA, but they met today. Gunn gave them the information on your rape and the murders of your family.”
“And?” Buffy felt the breath backing up in her lungs. Angel had told her the night before what his friend planned to do, how he planned to bring in others of the FBI. Now it all came down to what they thought of the information.
Angel took her hand, held it in his. “They saw the truth, Buffy. They saw what I saw, what Gunn saw.”
“They...they...,” she couldn't finish the sentence. Did that mean...
“They believe you're innocent,” he completed her thoughts. “They're going to try to help you.”
“Oh, God,” she choked out, feeling tears well. This was what they'd hoped for. With the FBI behind her, she had a better chance of clearing her name, but hearing it said out loud was a shock to her system.
“The team wants to talk to you, though,” Angel added the final caveat. “They want to hear everything from you. So they've asked us to be at their office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.”
“We...we have to...go there?” she stuttered, feeling overwhelmed, and more than a little worried.
“Just to talk. They want to get as much accurate information as possible so they can build an air tight case against Wilkins and Walker.” Buffy still seemed worried, not that Angel could blame her, so he tried to soothe her fears. “They're not going to arrest you. Gunn assured me of that. They just need to know everything.”
Buffy closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She'd known this possibility existed. When Angel brought up the option of bringing in his friend Gunn from the FBI, she'd known that she'd have to talk about everything. Now that the time had come, she wasn't sure she could do it. Everything was just moving so fast. One minute, she'd been holed up in her rooms at her house, and the next, she was staying at Angel's and pursuing the truth of what had happened to her. It was so much to take in.
Could she really do it? And could she really take the chance that the FBI would be able to do what no one else had? Buffy weighed the pros and cons. What she knew in the end was that she wanted to be free of all of this. Today had been so much fun. She wanted to be able to do things like this whenever she chose. She wanted to be free to come and go anytime without having to disguise herself or wait until the cover of night. She wanted a normal life. So if that meant having to put her trust in Angel's friend and the FBI, could she do it?
Allowing Buffy the time to think it over, Angel remained quiet. This couldn't be an easy choice for her. The whole thing worried him as well. Still, he knew this was their best chance of bringing the truth to light.
Finally, Buffy seemed to come to a decision. “I'll go on one condition. Well, two. I want you there, and I want Willow, Spike and Xander as well. They were part of it all and know just as much as I do.”
“That shouldn't be a problem. I'll call them in a few minutes,” he offered, then picked up her hand again. “You're doing the right thing.”
Buffy's eyes roamed around the pier, seeing everything and nothing. “I hope so,” she whispered.
~`~`~
Author's Note: I have to give credit the city of Santa Monica's website, without which I would not have been able to write this chapter. All the places, street names, stores, and such mentioned in this part actually exist. I tried to be as accurate as possible given that I've never been there.
The sun had already been down an hour by the time Angel turned his car onto the road that lead to his beach house. Though it was better to return to town with Buffy at night, he'd have rather gotten home hours ago. Between their outing yesterday, and everything that had happened today, he was exhausted. He knew Buffy was as well. She'd slept most of the trip back to Sunnydale, but was now awake, silently staring out the car's side window.
Angel couldn't blame Buffy for her morose mood. The meeting with the FBI earlier this morning had gone well, but it had been draining. Angel couldn't help but wish the timing had been better. The trip to Santa Monica yesterday had done so much for her. By the end of the day, she'd been laughing and smiling as if all was right in the world. Then the call from Gunn had come, requesting that they meet with the investigating team.
From that point on, Buffy had become quiet and withdrawn. He hated that her perfect day had been ruined. It couldn't have been helped, though. If Buffy ever wanted to be freed from the chains that kept her existence secret, she needed the FBI's help. She'd gone willing to the meeting, but it was obvious to Angel that she would have rather not been there.
As requested by Buffy, her friends Willow, Spike and Xander had driven up to LA and met them before hand. They'd been more than willing to help in any way they could, and their support had bolstered Buffy's courage. The five of them had had breakfast at the hotel Angel had checked himself and Buffy into for the night and then gone to the FBI's field office in Los Angeles.
The meeting had been, in a word, long. For three hours the investigating team Gunn had gone to questioned Buffy and her friends. Angel was mostly a bystander until his role in the whole thing came into play. The rest of the time, he'd simply offered moral support to Buffy as she'd faced down the stoic men in suits asking her to recount the last seven years of her life.
In order to get as clear a picture as possible, the agents had asked Buffy to start at the very beginning: the day Cameron Walker raped her. Though seven years had passed since that horrible day, it hadn't been easy for Buffy to verbally recall the horrible event. But she'd done it, and then gone on to relay all of the things that had happened afterwards. Between her, Willow, Spike and Xander, they'd given the agents a detailed history of how Buffy had been ostracized, harassed and condemned.
From there, they'd moved on to the murders of Joyce, Dawn, and Owen Giles. Buffy was only able to give meager of details about the deaths of her family members. Until recently, she'd only known what had happened that night. Her friends had conveyed to the agents what had happened afterwards, what was said in town, what they'd believed, and such. All Buffy had been able to add was that she'd lived in the attic of her house, sneaking out occasionally at night, and knowing only that her mother, sister, and brother were dead.
Angel picked up the story from there, relaying about his move to Sunnydale, about seeing a figure on the beach, and about how the people in town had acted when he'd questioned them about the person. He explained hearing about the ghost story, meeting Willow and Spike and hearing about Buffy Giles, and then all that had occurred afterwards, including finding out that Buffy was really alive and being hidden by her father.
Though the ordeal had been tiring and draining for all of them, Angel had to give the agents credit. Not once during the three hour session had they been suspicious or condemning. That's not to say they believed everything at face value, but they had listened with open minds. When questions needed to be asked, they asked and respected the answers. Angel had worried that they would be wary of Buffy or the truth of the situation, but it had seemed to him that the agents were on their side.
There had been quite a debate at the end regarding Buffy, something Angel suspected would happen. Technically, Buffy was wanted for murder, but the FBI saw the flaws in that accusation. They had wanted to keep Buffy in Los Angeles and put her in a safe house until they had more information or were able to resolve the situation somehow. Buffy adamantly refused. The agents hadn't been happy, but they also knew they needed Buffy's cooperation to help their case. In the end, they allowed her to leave, with the added order that she maintain her secret presence and that she be available if needed.
The only thing that had dismayed Angel about the whole meeting was that the FBI had not been able to tell him anything about what they planned to do. He was guessing that was because they didn't know. All he'd been told was that they were still gathering the facts before they put any type of plan into action. His one request to them was that he, Buffy, and her friends be kept updated, especially if the agents thought there was going to be any danger to Buffy, or given their involvement, any of them.
Once the meeting was over they had all gone to lunch at a restaurant Angel was familiar with from his time living in LA. Throughout the meal, Buffy was solemn, seemingly lost in the memories the session with the FBI had brought back to the forefront. After seeing her so happy the day before, Angel hated the frown that now marred her features. Wanting to lighten the mood any way possible, Angel had suggested that they go back to Santa Monica for the afternoon with Willow, Xander and Spike to show them the sights. The idea had brightened Buffy somewhat, so her friends – their friends, he supposed he should call them – had agreed.
The hours they spent wandering the shops and playing in the arcade improved morale to a certain point, but all of them were distracted by their tense situation. Still, they had fun and a smile had returned to Buffy's face, even if it was only a mild one compared to the one from the last time they'd been in Santa Monica. It had also given Buffy a chance to interact with her high school friends in a more normal situation. Angel had enjoyed seeing their camaraderie. He'd never really had anything like that since his school years were spent with tutors while on the road with his archaeologist father.
Eventually, the hour had grown later and sunset drew near. They'd parted ways with Willow, Xander and Spike and climbed in Angel's car to head back to Sunnydale. As much as he would have liked to keep the semi-vacation going, they needed to go back. He needed to return to work tomorrow.
So now they were almost back to his house, back to a place where Buffy had to blend into the shadows and act as if she didn't exist. He glanced over at her to see that she was still staring out the window. It wasn't until that moment Angel realized this was probably the first time in four years she was really getting to see any of Sunnydale. On the way to LA, she'd kept herself hidden in the car, but since it was dark now, they hadn't bothered with that detail though she did have her hat on.
“You okay?” he asked, making sure to keep one eye on the road.
“Yeah.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “I wish we could have stayed in Los Angeles.”
“I know,” he sighed, hating her weary tone. “You'll be able to go back soon, or go anywhere you want to go.”
Buffy turned to face Angel, her features mostly hidden in the dark car. “Do you really think so?”
“The FBI believed you, Buffy. They'll be able to get the truth out, and take Wilkins and his cronies down.” He hoped that was true.
“But what if they can't? What if the rest of my life will be like this?” The thought of never being free scared Buffy more than she could put into words. She didn't want to have to spend the rest of her years never leaving the house. It was sucking the life out of her.
“I wish there was some kind of promise I could give you, but we just have to believe that the FBI knows what they are doing.” It was a weak offer of comfort, but unfortunately, it was the best he could do given the circumstances.
Silence returned to the car, conversation soothing neither of them. Within minutes, Angel turned into his driveway. His mild relief at being back at his house lasted for only few seconds as he soon caught sight of a car in his driveway. He thought he recognized it, but he wasn't sure.
“Someone's here,” he stated, though he realized Buffy had already noticed by the tension suddenly radiating off her body.
“It's my Father's car,” she said dully.
“Giles?” Though it was dark, Angel could just make out the features of the car he thought he remembered seeing his boss, and Buffy's father, driving. He groaned and gripped the steering wheel tighter. This was the last thing either of them needed at the moment. It looked like they would have to deal with him, though. Angel punched the remote to open the garage door and waited while it slid upwards. “It's probably better if we go in through the garage and let Giles in through the front door. I don't want to take any chances with anybody seeing you.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, her eyes trained on the figure she could see standing on the front porch watching the car pull into the garage.
They left their packages from shopping in the car, choosing instead to greet Giles first. Together, they walked through the door off the garage that led into a sort of mud room next to the kitchen. Buffy was tempted to ask Angel not to led her father in. Right now, she just didn't know if she had the energy to talk to him. She had to, though. It wouldn't be fair to leave him standing out there.
Tired was a bit of an understatement to describe how she was feeling at the moment. The hours spent in Santa Monica with Angel yesterday had been draining enough, but on top of that, the meeting with the FBI had sapped every last ounce of energy Buffy had. She'd answered each and every one of their questions, told them everything thing she knew, and listened to her friends add their two cents. The whole thing had been almost like a twisted version of 'This Is Your Life, Buffy Giles'. Except there hadn't been any happy memories or reunions with old friends or teachers. All it had been was a reminder that she'd once been normal, she'd once had a life and family, and now she had nothing and was thought dead by all but a few people. No, there was nothing happy about that story.
She'd had a futile, far-fetched hope that the FBI agents would say, okay great, we'll go arrest them all now and you can go about your life. Stupid, Buffy knew, but she'd still hoped. Was it so much to ask that she be able to have a normal life again, or as close to one as someone like her could get? Probably.
Now, she had to speak with her father as well. She hadn't seen him since the night he'd come to Angel's, wanting her to return home; the night he'd realized his belief that Buffy was a murderer was wrong. Angel had talked to him since then, but Buffy had put it off, unable to find words of what she would say to him. Looked like she'd have to make it up as she went along.
Buffy trailed behind Angel as he made his way to the front door. Call her chicken, but she'd take even a few extra seconds to prepare. All too soon, though, he was at the door and unlocking the dead bolt. Before he even had the door all the way open, her father was pushing his way into the house.
“I trusted you to take of my daughter, Angel!” the older man snarled, coming toe-to-toe with Angel. “I specifically told you that she needs to remain hidden!”
“Yes, you did,” Angel said as calmly as possible.
“Then please explain why I saw you driving up to the house with her in the car! That does not show me you are keeping her safe!” Giles retorted hotly. He didn't give Angel an opportunity to answer. “I grew worried when you called out from work yesterday, and tried calling but nobody answered the telephone. Then today you were out as well, so I attempted to call again. When there was still no response, I came here. It is a good thing I did. Just where the Hell have you been?”
Angel listened to the angry ramble patiently. He didn't necessarily appreciate being yelled at, but he could certainly understand Giles' rage. The man was simply concerned for his daughter's safety. He'd spent four years protecting her, keeping her existence secret. Regrettably, the only answer Angel had to give was not going to soothe Giles' fears.
Rather than beat around the bush, Angel gave a straight, simple explanation. “We went to Santa Monica yesterday so Buffy could have a chance to do something fun.”
“Y-you....you what?!” Giles sputtered. “How could you be so stupid? So ignorant?” He paced away, muttering under his breath.
“Daddy, stop,” Buffy said quietly, deciding the time had come to stand up for herself when it came to her father.
“Buffy, please be quiet. I am just trying to do what is best for you,” Giles replied pleadingly.
“No,” Buffy denied. “I won't be quiet. I've been doing that for too long.”
“I have told you what will happen if anyone finds out you are alive,” her father warned ominously.
“We were careful. Nobody saw us.” Buffy's head lowered for several long seconds. She inhaled deeply then raised her eyes again. “I wanted, needed, to do something normal. I've been living like a zombie for seven years. I can't do it anymore.”
Giles started to speak, stopped. His jaw clenched as he fought the need to reprimand her for her stupidity. He couldn't, wouldn't, allow anything to happen to her. She was all that he had left in this world. But as he stood there looking at her, he couldn't not notice the healthy glow to her skin that must have come from this trip Angel had taken her on. It was impossible to miss the change in her. For the first time since the night four years earlier when he'd lost his wife and other two children, Buffy really looked alive, not like the shell she had been. Giles was torn. Seeing her looking so well brought joy to his heart, but it was virtually blotted out by his fear that something bad would happen to her.
“I don't like what you did, but I suppose it is a moot point now,” Giles voiced, his shoulders slumping.
“Nothing happened. We just did some shopping and visited the pier,” Angel added, trying to ease Giles' worries. “We meant to come back last night, but-” He immediately cut off his words, realizing what he was about to reveal. Giles had no idea what they, he, Buffy, and their friends, had decided to do to help Buffy.
“What's going on?” Giles prompted slowly, catching an undercurrent of something. He just wasn't sure what.
Angel looked at Buffy, an apologetic expression on his face. He hadn't meant to bring up the meeting with the FBI. It was fairly easy to assume Giles wouldn't be happy about it. “It's up to you, Buffy,” he said to her, letting her know that he trusted her to make the decision herself.
The choice was hers, but Buffy almost wished it wasn't. Her father deserved to know what they'd done, but she wasn't eager to tell him. Given the way he'd acted when he'd found her sneaking into their house after visiting with Angel, he wasn't going to take it well that not only had she met with other people, but that she'd revealed her situation and asked for help. She had to tell him, though.
“Daddy, we should go sit down in the living room,” she prefaced the talk. Sitting down would make everything easier. Okay, that was stretch. At least it would give her another minute to prepare.
Eyes narrowed, Giles debated demanding to be told whatever they were hiding right now, but he relented and walked quickly to the room on his right. He didn't sit, though. He was too agitated to sit. Standing would have to do.
“Well?” he cued again.
Neither answered immediately. Angel led Buffy over to the sofa and waited for her to seat herself before sitting as well, leaving a proprietary cushion between them. There wasn't any need to incite Giles anger further by sitting too close to Buffy. Giles was already suspicious enough, and even though there wasn't exactly anything romantic going on between him and Buffy, it was better to err on the side of caution.
Giles cleared his throat, letting them know he was still waiting. Angel was about to begin explaining when Buffy put a hand on his arm. He glanced at her, curious at the gesture.
“Let me,” she whispered. “I need to do this. I need to take control of my life again.” Buffy waited until Angel gave her a small nod. Releasing a tense breath, her eyes went back to her father, who was standing on the other side of the coffee table, arms cross over his chest.
“We met with a friend of Angel's this morning,” she began, then went for the kill. “He's an agent with the FBI.”
The explosion came almost instantly. “The FBI!” Giles shouted, stunned and enraged. His accusatory eyes went to Angel. “How could you be so bloody stupid?! What in the Hell were you thinking?!”
“Giles-”
“You forced her to do this, didn't you?” Giles charged, throwing daggers at Angel with his eyes. “I knew I shouldn't have-”
“Daddy, stop!” Buffy ordered, jumping off the couch. When he didn't listen, she tried again. “Stop!”
The room fell silent, except for Buffy's heavy breathing. She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled by the confrontation. Both Angel and her father and Angel were watching her. It left her with the uncomfortable feeling of being in the spotlight.
Her father was furious with Angel, that was obvious. She needed to get Giles to listen to her, really listen to what she was saying. At the moment, that didn't seem quite possible. So Buffy considered her options. The solution came to her, though she didn't quite like it. Even so, it would also be another step to taking control of her life.
“Angel,” Buffy softly said, rotating to look at him. “Could you give me a few minutes to talk to my Dad?”
“Are you sure?” he asked. Angel felt the determination radiating off Buffy. Pride in her suffused him. She had such inner strength. He wondered if she knew it.
“Yeah,” she nodded, smiling slightly. “I'll be fine.”
“Okay. I'll be in the kitchen in if you need me.” Angel stood, but before he could leave, he couldn't stop himself from tossing a warning look in Giles direction. He wouldn't tolerate the older man doing anything to hurt Buffy, even if he was her father.
Buffy waited until Angel had left the room, until she was left alone with her father. What was she supposed to say now? There were so many things she needed to tell him. One thing, though, stood out first and foremost. It needed to be said above all else.
“I didn't kill them.” There, she'd said it. “I need you to believe that.”
“Buffy...,” Giles sighed in resignation. He honestly wasn't quite sure what to believe anymore. He'd had four years to accept the truth, but even so, the knowledge that his daughter had slaughtered their family froze his blood. It wasn't that he wanted to believe it. Who would want to believe such a thing? But he'd been there that night. He'd seen the evidence. There was nothing else for him to believe.
Except now there was. Only a few nights before, Angel had presented him with contradictory evidence. What he'd read changed the situation entirely. Everything in that folder told him Buffy could not have murdered Joyce, Dawn, and Owen. He so desperately wanted to accept that. And at first, he'd believed the information at face value. Later, doubts had arisen.
Knowing that Buffy had killed three members of their family had destroyed him. He couldn't have said he understood what happened, but he knew the reasons why. Buffy had been mentally broken by all she'd suffered. He'd blamed himself for not anticipating her mind completely snapping. So though the events were horrible and tragic, he'd known the reasons. But to think that someone could be so evil as to murder three innocent people, and to frame a fourth? That was beyond his scope of understanding. Still, he'd read Angel's new evidence. It was just hard to reconcile the new information with what he'd seen that terrible night.
“I know you-”
“No. I didn't do it,” she repeated her assertion.
“Do you remember what happened that night?” he managed to ask. It was the one question he had never dared to ask her, for fear of what the answer might be. No matter what she told him, or what she'd done, she was his daughter and he would always love her.
“I don't really remember anything,” she admitted. “Most of the night is still a blank. We were sitting there watching a movie one minute, and then the next thing I remember is you picking me up in the closet. But I know I didn't do it. I know, in here,” she placed a hand over her heart, “That I couldn't have killed them. I loved them.”
Oh, how he wished what Buffy was saying was the truth. He'd give anything to know for certain that his beloved daughter hadn't snapped one night and killed. For days, months, even years, he had wallowed in the knowledge of what she'd done. Logic had prescribed that he hate her, condemn her for her crimes. His heart directed otherwise. She was his daughter, a part of him. He'd seen her life torn to pieces after a brutal rape. At times, he even blamed himself for the murders because he hadn't seen that Buffy was hanging by a thread, a loose canon ready to blow at any moment. He'd never fully been able to blame her. Yes, she'd done it, but deep down, it hadn't been her fault. She was a victim. Just like all of them.
“Buffy, I honestly don't know what to believe anymore. The things Angel showed me...”
“I know....I know you don't believe me,” Buffy choked back a sob. She desperately wanted her father to accept what she was telling him. She wanted him to believe her words. The information they'd already shown him had placed doubts in his mind. He seemed to have accepted the truth, at first. But she knew now he still wasn't sure. What else could she say to him? An idea occurred. “Wait here, there's something else you should read.”
Giles could only watch as his daughter strode out of the room. What more could there be for him to read? Whatever it was, he would do whatever he could to help her try to put all of this behind her. As much as he hated to admit it, she looked so much better than she had before her friends and Angel discovered she wasn't dead. There was life in her again. It gave him hope that maybe she could live her own life again. He would have to get her out of Sunnydale, though, take her somewhere she could begin again where no one would know her or suspect her.
As he contemplated that, Buffy came back to the room with the same folder as before in her hand. She handed it to him and asked him to read the paper on top. Confused, he studied the outside of the folder. What was so damned important? He complied, though, and took a seat in a nearby chair before opening the folder and taking the first sheet in his hand.
This was her last hope. Buffy knew this was the only remaining way her father would accept the truth that she hadn't been responsible for her Mom's, Owen's, and Dawn's deaths. If he didn't believe it...well, she didn't know what she would do then.
She watched her father nervously, and knew the instant the new piece of information sunk in. The blood drained from his face and his mouth dropped open. She knew the feeling. When Gunn had explained about the results of the medical examiner's tox screen, she'd been beyond shocked to learn they had all been drugged that night. She'd felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. Her father was now experiencing the same thing.
Buffy said nothing and waited for him to finish reading the report. She was glad that she and Angel had gotten a copy of the FBI's summary of the ME's findings to keep. Now, her father would know. Now, she hoped, he would finally accept the truth. Truly accept it.
Reaching the bottom on the back of the page, Giles' eyes closed and his head dropped forward. The sheet of paper slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the ground. He'd had his doubts...but now... What had he done?
“Dear God,” he gasped, unable to hold the tears in his eyes back. “Dear God, what have I done?”
“Daddy,” Buffy cried out and dropped to her knees in front of him.
“Buffy,” he sobbed, forcing himself to meet her eyes, despite his guilt and torment. “I thought...I never...I'm so sorry.”
“It's okay. I understand why you believed I'd done it,” she attempted to soothe him.
“I never questioned, not until Angel first showed me his findings,” he snarled, the anger directed solely at himself.
The facts on the page were still trying to settle in his mind. He was still trying to understand. One thing was clear, though. Absolutely clear. There were no doubts this time. Buffy, his daughter, hadn't committed murder. She hadn't killed Joyce, Dawn, and Owen, as he'd always believed. They'd essentially be drugged and executed. In all the passing years, he'd never once considered...
“How could this have happened?” His head snapped up and his eyes darkened. Of course, he knew exactly how it'd happened. The police. Or rather the chief of police. Cameron Walker's, Buffy's rapist's, father. They were the reason this had happened! Them and that bloody bastard Wilkins! He knew that without a doubt as well.
“That son of a bitch,” he snapped, rage streaming through his bloodstream.
Her father had reached the same conclusion the rest of them had. Buffy grabbed his hands before he could leap off the chair and do God knew what. The expression on his face told her he would likely seek out Chief Walker and tear him to pieces. She wouldn't exactly mind, but she couldn't let him do it. Those responsible would be punished. The FBI would she to it. She hoped.
“Daddy, wait,” she begged. “There's more you need to hear. About the meeting Angel and-.”
The ringing of the telephone cut her off. She turned her head towards the living room's entranceway. After the second ring, she heard Angel pick up the phone and say something, hello, she assumed. Being so far away, she could only hear his muffled voice, but something about the tone set her nerves on edge. So she waited.
Only a minute later, the sound of his voice ceased and his footsteps came towards the living room. He appeared a moment later. Buffy knew instantly that something was going on. His face was tense and his worry was obvious.
“Angel? What is it?”
“That was Gunn,” he answered, glancing first at Giles, then at Buffy, where his gaze remained. “His team is coming down to Sunnydale tomorrow. They're going to seize evidence from the police station. Including all the information about you.”
With only a sliver of moon showing, the back porch was almost pitch black as Buffy and Angel sat on the bench. They weren't talking, simply enjoying the peace of the night. Buffy hadn't said much since the visit with her father earlier in the evening. She had to be worried about her father and what Gunn had called and told them, Angel figured. None of this was easy to deal with.
After the call from Gunn, Angel had joined Buffy and Giles and filled Giles in on what they had done, the meeting with the FBI and what they hoped to accomplish. As expected, Giles was not happy with their actions. He thought they were putting Buffy at risk. Which they were, but it was their only choice. By the time they finished explaining to Giles, and convincing him it was the right thing to do, he seemed to accept it, if reluctantly.
Giles hadn't wanted to leave Buffy. He was worried about her safety and wanted to protect her. Before he'd left, he'd asked Buffy again to come home with him, telling her it was safer for her there, but Buffy refused to go. She'd told him she couldn't go back to that house, that there were too many bad memories for her there. As much as he'd hated it, Giles hadn't been able to fight her on that issue. So he'd left her at Angel's, making sure Angel knew that if anything happened to Buffy, it would lie solely on Angel's shoulders.
The burden was a heavy one for Angel to bear, and he sincerely hoped he didn't let Giles down. Things seemed to be moving fast now that Gunn and the FBI were involved. Angel had no idea what was going to happen next, but he knew something was. It was all going to come to a head soon.
Next to Angel, Buffy shivered. “Are you cold?” he asked, raising his voice a little so it could be heard over the soft tune of the radio he'd set in the kitchen window before they'd come outside.
“No,” she denied. “I was just thinking about the call from Gunn.”
“You're worried,” he assumed, rightly so.
“It's kinda hard not to be,” Buffy admitted, shifting on the bench to sit sideways and face Angel. “They're going to know something is up when the FBI barge into the police station and want files and stuff.”
“Probably,” conceded Angel. “But they're not going to know why. There is no reason for them to suspect that you being alive and innocent is the motivation behind the FBI's moves.”
“What else could they think?”
“That the FBI is investigating the Sunnydale police force,” he posed what he thought they would think. “Gunn said they are going to take other unrelated files to try to throw them off a bit. Plus it will give them a basis of the PD's competency. They want to see if the cops did their job on other cases. If they did, it's all the more proof on your side that your case was purposely mishandled.”
“I never thought of that,” Buffy mused, amazed at the FBI's train of reasoning. “I just hope everything goes okay for them tomorrow.”
“I'm sure it will,” he assured her. “Gunn and his team know what they are doing.”
Buffy cocked her head and looked at Angel. The pale, barely-there moonlight highlighted his cheekbones and shoulders, but left the rest of him shrouded in darkness. He was so much bigger than her, but she'd never once felt threatened by him. From the first moment she'd met him, she'd felt safe in his presence. She guessed it was his gentle, caring nature. Some people gave off an essence of coldness and hate, but everything about Angel was pure and good.
Where would she be if Angel hadn't come into her life? She'd still be sequestered in her attic rooms in her father's house, living under a veil of grief and depression. Angel had changed all that. He'd thundered into her life and brought the sun back. Buffy had hope now, hope for the future, hope that she would some day be just a normal girl again. Even if her innocence wasn't able to be proved, there was no way she could ever repay Angel for all that he'd done for her.
Angel noticed Buffy staring at him and felt a little fidgety. It was like she was looking right through him, into him. “What?”
“I, umm...I just wanted to say thank you,” she said softly, blushing as she realized she'd been staring at him. “I know I've said it before, but I wanted to say it again. You've done so much for me when you didn't have to.”
“You don't have to thank me, Buffy, but you're welcome,” he reached out and touched her hand. “I'm glad I could help, even if just a little. I care about you.”
Buffy blushed again, thankful that the dark night hid the reddish tint to her skin. It was just so strange having a guy – a guy like Angel – saying something like that to her. Before she'd lost most of her family, she'd spent three years being hated by almost everyone. There hadn't been many kind words to her after the rape.
She didn't want to think about that now. Not when the night was so beautiful and she was sitting here with Angel. There'd been too much time spent today thinking of all the ugly things in her life. Right now, she just wanted to forget about it all.
A song on the radio caught Buffy's attention and she smiled. “I love this song. I haven't heard it in so long.”
The radio was turned fairly low so Angel strained to hear it. He immediately recognized the tune. It had been quite popular when it came out. “November Rain by Guns 'N Roses” Angel recited the song's name.
“Willow and I would listen to it over and over again when we were in junior high,” she told him.
“I'll go turn it up a little.” Angel stood and took a few quick steps to the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Reaching over toward the windowsill, he twisted the volume knob a few ticks, enough to make the music easier to hear, but not so much that it was loud. Once that was done, he returned to the deck and approached Buffy.
A contented smile greeted him, and Angel smiled in return. He loved seeing her during these rare unguarded moments. There was such a different aura to her then. An idea popped into Angel's head and he held out a hand to Buffy. “Would you like to dance?”
“D-dance?” Buffy sputtered, thrown completely off guard.
“Uh huh, dance,” he repeated, keeping his hand held out.
“Why...why would you want to dance with me?” Dance with Angel? Such a perplexing idea! But she couldn't deny that it sounded nice.
“I can't imagine you got much of an opportunity to dance when you were younger,” he said casually. Angel didn't want to frighten her by adding that he would enjoy the chance to hold her in his arms.
“No,” Buffy's head dropped down. “I didn't even get to go to either of my proms.”
“Proms are underrated, but we can dance here and pretend it's your senior prom,” he suggested, taking a step closer. He'd do anything to help wipe away her bad memories.
“I don't know how to dance,” she mumbled dejectedly.
“We're not going to dance fancy,” he corrected. “Just let me lead. It'll be easy.”
“O-okay.” Buffy reached out and took Angel's hand, letting him tug her to her feet.
Leading her a few steps away from the bench, onto the middle of the deck, Angel stopped. Now, how to best approach this? For a moment, he doubted his sanity, but the feel of Buffy's trusting hand in his reminded him of why he wanted to dance with her. They weren't going to be doing formal dancing, so proper hand holds weren't necessary. Settling for the easiest method possible, Angel took the hand he held and raised it to his shoulder and then reached for the other and placed it on the opposite shoulder.
Buffy stood perfectly still, having no clue at all what she should do next. She'd danced before, many, many years ago when she was in junior high. That didn't exactly count. Back then, girls and boys were still trying to decide if the opposite sex had cooties. So she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She would trust in Angel's direction.
They stood still for several seconds, with only Buffy's hands loosely clasped on Angel's shoulders. Now that they'd gotten to this position, Angel couldn't decide where to put his own hands. Her hips seemed like a bad idea. He didn't want to frighten her. He decided on her waist and as gently as possible placed his hands, making sure not to grip her too tightly and to leave several inches between them. When she didn't flinch or pull away, he knew she was okay with what they were doing.
Thankfully, November Rain was a long song so by the time they found their comfort zone, it was still playing. Angel wasn't exactly the king of the dance floor. Okay, he didn't know how to dance at all. The few times he'd been goaded into dancing, he'd looked like a chicken with epilepsy. But he could handle this.
Unguided, their bodies began to sway to the rhythm of the song, matching each others' pace without even trying. If anyone had been watching them, their actions wouldn't exactly have been called dancing, but the simple movements suited both of them. Who needed fancy steps when you could be close to someone important to you the way they were?
The current song ended and Angel nearly wanted to shout 'no'. He didn't want this to end yet. He was enjoying it too much. To his relief, though, the next song began immediately and he was even happier to realize that it was equally appropriate for slow-dancing. He had always liked the song Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin.
Angel was just falling into the morose tune when he thought he heard what sounded like a sniffle. He pulled back slightly so he could see Buffy's face, illuminated only by the soft glow of the light coming from the kitchen. Horror dawned when he saw two lonely tears dangling from her eyelashes. What had he done?
“Buffy? What's wrong? Did I do something?” he asked anxiously.
She shook her head and whispered, “No. It's...it's just that Owen loved Zeppelin. The song reminded me.”
“Damn,” Angel muttered under his breath. “I'm sorry. Let me go change the station.”
He started to turn but Buffy held onto his shoulders. “It's okay,” she promised him. “I just wasn't expecting it.”
“Are you sure?” he voiced his doubts.
Nodding, Buffy used one hand to swipe at the tears. “I-I just want to keep dancing.”
Angel heard her sniffle again and did the only thing he could do, comforted her. His left hand slid lightly up her back until he reached the lower part of her head, while his right hand remained on her waist but moved farther around to her back. Pushing lightly, and taking the smallest step forward, their bodies touched. He expected her to pull away, but she offered no resistance to the move. To his surprise, she turned her head until her cheek rested over his heart.
A soft sigh slipped past her lips before Buffy could stop it. She'd had a small moment of panic when Angel moved closer, but it had eased away quickly. All she knew was that she felt protected in Angel's arms, like she was in a soft, strong cocoon where nothing could hurt her.
The sound of Angel's heartbeat echoed quietly in her ear and she closed her eyes, slipping into a point in time she never wanted to leave. Together they swayed gently back an forth, aware of nothing but the smooth strains of the old Zeppelin song and the warm kiss of the early summer air. It was the perfect moment, one neither of them would ever forget.
~`~`~
Despite his words of reassurance to Buffy the night before regarding the FBI's plan to gather evidence, that there was nothing to be concerned about, Angel was worried himself. With the way things had happened in this town before, who knew what could happen next? That's why he had planned to stay at home all day, to be there just in case. He hadn't wanted to take any chances that something might happen to Buffy.
Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. Just before noon, Giles called to inform Angel that there was a work related emergency. Giles had tried to handle the problem himself, tried anything to get it fixed so that Angel wouldn't need to come in, but they required his expertise. So finally, Giles called Angel to discuss the problem, and Angel swiftly realized he would have to go in to the office. Which meant leaving Buffy alone. He didn't have a choice, though.
As he grabbed his soft, leather briefcase and prepared to leave, Angel repeated to himself that Buffy would be fine. There was no reason for anything to happen. No one except for himself, Giles, Willow, Spike, and Xander knew that Buffy was a live. And the FBI. So she would be safe at his house, where no one but those who knew the truth, would know about her existence. Even knowing that, Angel was still worried, and he continued worrying all the way to the magazine's office building.
A short while after arriving at work, Angel was sitting at his desk, taking a few minutes to go over his messages and emails that had come in during the last two days that he hadn't been in the office. He tried to focus on his job, but as he sat there at his desk, his mind drifted back to dancing with Buffy the night before. The pleasant thoughts caused a smile to break out on his face.
They had danced for four songs before being rudely interrupted by Shadow, who had decided to try out her climbing skills on the screen door that led from the kitchen to the back deck. Buffy had laughed hysterically at the sight of Shadow clinging to the metal screen, staring at them through owlish eyes. Just another precious moment to add to the memory of the night.
Peeking at his watch, Angel saw that he'd only been away from the house for a little less than half an hour. He hoped Buffy was okay. The sooner he dealt with the emergency, the sooner he could get back to her. Before he got down to business, though, he needed to make a phone call. Swiveling his chair, he kicked at his office door. It swung closed, but didn't latch shut.
Angel snatched the phone off the cradle and quickly dialed. A moment later, he heard Willow's cheery voice greet him.
“Hi Willow,” he returned. “Is there any way you could go over and hang out with Buffy for a couple hours?”
When Willow asked why, he explained to her about what Gunn and the FBI team were doing today, and how it worried him that Buffy was at his house along. He'd hoped Willow would be able to go over there to ease his mind. To his dismay, and Willow's as well, she was tied up at work with a surprise visit from a health inspector. As she explained to Angel, they had periodic, surprise inspections to make sure they were following all the necessary health codes. She and Spike would be tied up until the woman left. Angel suggested Xander and was told by Willow that Xander was in LA for the day picking up supplies for the construction crew he was working on.
Dejected at not having found a solution, Angel thanked Willow anyway. She offered to call Buffy every half hour or so to ease both their concerns. Angel accepted and said goodbye. He clicked off his computer monitor before standing and walking to the door. Hopefully, he could get this problem worked out as soon as possible.
~`~`~
Somewhere in Sunnydale, a cell phone rang.
“Yeah?” a gruff voice answered, then listened idly.
“I remember the plan,” the voice said, irritated.
“It'll be done as soon as possible,” were the final words spoken into the cell phone.
~`~`~
Back at the beach house, Buffy decided that she would help Angel out by doing some cleaning. She pulled the vacuum cleaner out, intent on sweeping the carpets in the downstairs of the house. It was the least she could do for Angel after all he had done for her. And it would keep her occupied. She hoped. Her mind seemed to be swirling with all kinds of thoughts this afternoon.
Had Gunn already been to the police station? Had they gotten the files? She had no idea what time they'd planned to descend on Sunnydale. Just like she had no idea if she should be worried about what they were doing. Angel said everything would be fine. Cameron Walker's father, Mayor Wilkins and their cronies had no reason to believe she was really alive, and knew what they'd done, or suspected they'd done. So there was no reason for her to be worried about being home alone.
Knowing that and believing it were two different things, Buffy thought wryly. She'd nearly jumped out of her shoes ten minutes ago when Shadow had crept up on her and batted at her foot. The poor kitten must have thought she was insane for shrieking and grabbing the lamp off the end table simply because her foot had been tapped.
So she would vacuum and keep her mind busy. That idea didn't quite play out the way Buffy hoped because as she pushed the machine around the living room carpet, thoughts of Angel flickered to life. She sighed unconsciously at the memory of their dance on the deck only hours before. It had been wonderful, so innocent and perfect. Not once had it felt uncomfortable. Well, not really.
A pang of sadness hit Buffy. She'd missed so many things like that. When she should have been goofing off with her friends and going to school dances, she'd been hiding out in her home, kept there by the vengeful looks tossed her way by just about anyone because she'd accused the police chief's son of rape. Then when she should have been going to college, meeting people, and figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, she'd been secluded in the attic of her house, lost in the depression and grief of losing her family, and unknowingly an accused murderer who was believed to have committed suicide.
What a life. Or non-life.
Everything had been destroyed because of Cameron Walker, because of what he'd done to her, and because of the power his family and friends wielded. Where would she be now if she'd never encountered Cameron that day after school? What would she be doing?
Buffy allowed herself to dream for a moment, to fantasize about the life she'd lost.
Visions of a senior prom danced in her mind. Laughing with her friends at their high school graduation. A summer of freedom before hitting the books. Sharing an apartment with Willow as they attended Sunnydale University together. Papers and midterms. Study dates and parties. Deciding on a career path. And then finally graduating.
If her life had gone as it was supposed to, she would have graduated from college just a few months ago. What would she have majored in? Would she be taking a few months to enjoy life before settling down into a job? Would she have a boyfriend?
All valid questions, but none of them mattered. Her life hadn't gone that way. Cameron and the people of this town had seen to that. They'd killed every hope she'd ever had. Just as they'd surely killed her mother, brother and sister.
Anger seethed inside Buffy. An anger more intense than she'd ever felt before. They'd taken everything from her! She pushed the vacuum forcefully across the floor, slamming it into the base of the couch without even noticing. She hoped they paid for what they'd done! She hoped they rotted in jail for the rest of their lives, never again able to feel the very freedom they'd seized from her!
Over the loud churning of the vacuum and the roaring anger buzzing in her ears, Buffy never heard the phone ring or heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled slowly into the driveway.
~`~`~
Inside the internet cafe in town, Willow paced the floor of her office, chewing nervously on her lower lip. She had tried to call Buffy twice, and gotten the answering machine both times. Why wasn't Buffy answering? Had something happened?
No, Willow shook her head. She was being a worry-wort. Buffy was probably just in the shower or listening to loud music or somewhere in the house where she couldn't hear the phone ring. Yeah, it was one of things.
What if it wasn't? What should she do?
Willow looked to the phone, to her car keys, to the back door, and then to the inner window where she could see Spike talking to the health inspector. Why couldn't Buffy just have answered the phone?
~`~`~
Angel was standing at one of the counters inside the photography department when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocked and looked at the Caller ID. Willow. Angel's heart stuttered. Why was Willow calling him?
Turning away from one of the magazine's interns, his thumb hit the Talk button. “Willow? What's wrong?”
“Angel. It's probably nothing, but umm, I've tried to call Buffy twice in the last half hour and she hasn't answered either time,” she relayed in a rushed voice.
“What?” he snapped, body going stiff.
“She's probably just busy, but I-”
“Thanks.” Angel ended the call without another word, barked something to the intern and rushed out of the room.
Keys. He needed his car keys. Angel felt around in his pockets and sighed with relief that they were there. Now he wouldn't have to go all the way up to his office on the third floor when he was in the basement at the moment.
The elevator was on the fourth floor so Angel took the stairs, running up them two at a time and nearly bowling over a woman carrying a box full of mail. He didn't stop to apologize.
Something was wrong, he felt it in his gut. There were a million reasons for why Buffy might not have answered the phone when Willow called, but instinct told him it wasn't a good reason. He needed to get back to his house. Now.
He reached the first floor landing and opted to take the emergency exit that led directly outside instead of going through the building to the staff entrance. Giles would just have to deal with any problems that caused if there was some alarm that went off. Sure enough, an insanely loud buzzer sounded as soon as he pushed the door open. Whatever, he thought as he sprinted around the building to the parking lot and his car.
Within minutes, he was squealing out of the lot, foot stomped on the gas pedal. The drive normally took around ten minutes. He planned to make it in five. Or less. And damn any cops that dared to stop him.
Luck was with him as no cars, cops or otherwise, got in his way. He was a half mile from his house when, through the half open window to his left, an acrid smell reached his nose. Angel coughed and his brow furrowed. What the hell was that?
After another hundred feet, the dense forest that ran along the beach began to thin, and Angel had a more thorough view. What he saw made bile rise in his throat.
A plume of smoke was rising above the short trees just a little ways ahead. Near his house. From his house.
Shit! His house, with Buffy inside, was on fire!
Angel's worst fear was confirmed as he rounded the bend in the driveway and his house came into view. Billowing black smoke leaked from several windows, through which he could also see the violent red flicker that signified fire. He slammed on the brakes before he got too close, jammed the car into Park and leapt out without even thinking to shut off the engine. The only on his mind was to make sure Buffy was out of the house.
“Buffy!” he shouted, hoping that she was somewhere on the beach, safe from harm. No answer came.
“Buffy!” he screamed again while running toward house. There was no sign of Buffy anywhere. He couldn't see her or hear her.
Surely she would have gotten out of the house by now. The fire didn't appear to be all consuming. She should have been able to get out. But what if someone had done something to her? What if she'd been taking a nap upstairs and was unaware of the fire? Angel called to her once more, his eyes searching all around, pleading silently for her to be found. He saw nothing.
In the distance, Angel thought he heard the whirring of sirens, but he couldn't be sure. The crash of the waves nearby on the beach, and the growing roar of the fire in his house masked all other sounds. He didn't know what to do. Buffy could still be inside the house. That was the only thought that mattered. And if she was still in there, he had to take a chance and go in after her. The fire department, if that's the siren he heard, might not get here in time.
Stripping off his suit jacket and tie, he tossed them to the ground and was quickly up the front stairs. The fire looked to be coming from the kitchen area and somewhere near his office, but the front door looking unharmed. Carefully, he reached out a hand and touched the metal knob. It was cold. Thank God!
Angel shoved the door open and was immediately surrounded by thick, black smoke. He choked on the vile mixture, waving a hand in front of his face, but it did no good. Dropping to his knees, he found clearer air and moved into the foyer. From his position, he could see a red glow coming from the kitchen and also somewhere to his right, either the living room or his office.
The kitchen was too dangerous to go near. He could already feel the blast of heat. Instead he crawled right, through the doorway to the living room. Sight was poor as smoke clouded his vision. He crept further in, squinting his eyes in a vain hope of finding Buffy, but he could see no sign of her.
“Buffy!” he croaked, gagging as his lungs filled with smoke.
Over the increasing howl of the flames, Angel thought he heard something coming from somewhere behind him. He turned swiftly and headed on his knees back towards the foyer. Sweat soaked his dress shirt, poured down his back and over his face. It was getting hotter by the second. He needed to find Buffy, if she was in the house, and get her out quick before the whole place was engulfed in flames.
As he crawled forward, Angel didn't allow himself to think about the fact that Buffy may not be inside. In the back of his mind, he knew that, given the situation, it was likely someone had torched his home and that that someone could have taken Buffy, or worse, but he wouldn't allow himself to think about it. If she was here, he had to find her.
“Buffy!” he called once more. Over the cough that threatened to overwhelm him, he heard a faint reply.
“Angel!”
The stairs. It had come from the direction of the staircase leading to the second floor. Buffy was still inside! “BUFFY!” he bellowed, forcing the sound to come out as loudly as possible.
“Ang-...Angel!”
Angel forced himself to his feet, eyes watering and lungs burning, He nearly tripped over the first riser. In a half-crawl, he rose the steps, hands feeling the smooth wood to keep his direction. At the contact with skin, he almost fell backwards in surprise. Overbalancing, he fell forward, collapsing on top of a prone body and slamming his head into something hard.
Head ringing from its collision with what he assumed was a wall, Angel groaned. A mirroring sound came from beneath him and he forced himself to roll away. What had happened? Everything was a little fuzzy. He knew, though, that someone was with him on the landing. Buffy! It had to be her, but the heavy smoke kept him from seeing much.
“Buffy!” he tried to say, but it came out more as a cough.
“Ang-,” came the response, cut off by a harsh gagging sound.
The faint voice was feminine and could come from no one other than Buffy. Despite the dizziness threatening to overtake him, Angel pushed to his knees as his hands felt around him. He grasped an arm and wanted to sob in relief. He'd found Buffy! She was alive, though possibly not unharmed.
Crawling forward, using his hands to guide him, he got as close to her as possible. “We...have to...get...out of...her,” he gasped out, breaths getting shallower.
“...trying...to...can't...see,” Buffy replied in short, clipped words, her voice barely above a whisper.
Angel looked to his left, down what he was pretty sure the rest of the stairs and towards the door. They were only about thirty feet from safety, but their escape would not be easy. Nothing about climbing down approximately ten stairs through blinding smoke and rising heat was simple. To make matters worse, he could see the flames from the kitchen crawling down the hallway, closer to the front foyer. They needed to get out. Now.
Using all his strength, Angel reached forward and groped around until he had one arm under Buffy's back and the other under her knees. He pushed upwards, staggering under the strain. Normally, picking up Buffy would have be easy, but his muscles were burning, probably from lack of oxygen.
“Close...your eyes...gonna...get us...out,” he ordered, leaning down to speak near what he thought was Buffy's ear.
“O....kay.”
The wall was to his right, so Angel leaned in that direction until his shoulder made contact with the paneling. Using the wall as a guide, he descended the stairs quickly but carefully. The suffocating smoke hindered his breathing further under the strain of carrying Buffy, but he pushed forward. He was so close. Finally, his feet came into contact with the floor and he nearly stumbled to his knees, but he locked them together. Staggering the last few feet, he reached the door he'd left open.
Angel crashed into the porch railing after giving one last push to exit the burning house. Clean air filled his lungs and he coughed against the unexpected prize. In his arms, Buffy echoed the sound, her whole body shaking. All Angel wanted to do was fall to the ground and hold Buffy close, but they were still too near the burning structure.
With the last of his energy failing, Angel shoved away from the railing with his hip. He had just set foot on the top porch stair when he realized that there was a fire engine tearing down his driveway. It was of little consequence at the moment. He just wanted to get himself and Buffy farther away from the house. When his feet hit the soft sand, his knees gave out and he fell forward. At the last second, he twisted sideways so that he wouldn't crush Buffy as she clung to his neck.
Sprawled on the sand with Buffy on top of him, Angel gasped for air. His head twisted in the direction of the driveway and he saw the firetruck screech to a stop. Soon, men in fire gear were dashing everywhere, preparing hoses to fight the blaze. Behind the large truck, three dark sedans pulled to a stop. Out of one, Angel was surprised to see Gunn. He vaguely wondered what his sister's boyfriend was doing there, but thinking about that took too much energy. His eyes drifted shut, exhaustion slipping over him.
“Meow!”
The muffled noise caused Angel's eyes to shoot open. Was that a cat? He shook his head, trying to figure out what he'd heard. On top of him, Buffy wriggled around until she slid to the side on onto the sand. Angel manged to prop himself up on his elbows and looked at Buffy. When she reached down into her shirt, he was more than a little confused. The action made sense a second later when a furry little head popped out of the neck hole and gazed at Angel with frightened eyes. Of course! Shadow!
“I think...she's okay,” Buffy said hoarsely, keeping the kitten in her shirt, but scratching her head with limp fingers.
“Are you...hurt?” he asked as he tried to get into a sitting position.
Buffy sucked in a breath then coughed violently. Tears streamed down her blackened cheeks from bloodshot eyes. “I don't...think...so. Hurts...to...breathe,” she added.
“Angel!” came a shout from nearby. “Angel, man, are you okay?”
The worried call came from Gunn as the man ran towards them. Behind him, several paramedics were following at a slower pace, weighed down by equipment hanging from their shoulders. And behind them came another group, these guys in dark suits. Angel thought he recognized some of them from the meeting in Los Angeles with the FBI, but his eyes weren't at their best so he couldn't be sure.
“Angel?” Gunn asked again as he finally reached the pair on the beach.
“We're...fine. I think,” Angel choked out.
“What-” Gunn started to question them about what had happened, but he was pushed aside.
“Excuse me, sir. We need to treat them immediately,” a paramedic stated.
“Right, okay,” agreed Gunn, though he was anxious to hear about whatever had gone on in Angel's house.
The first paramedic turned to Buffy and Angel. “Were either of you burned?” he began asking the standard questions in order to treat his two patients.
~`~`~
Charles Gunn stood a few feet away from the ambulance, conferring with some of his colleagues. The guy to his left was saying something, but Gunn's mind was elsewhere. More precisely, he was mentally kicking himself for not being prepared enough, for not protecting both Buffy and Angel. He tried to temper that knowledge with the fact that there had been no reason to suspect something bad would happen.
Chief Walker and Mayor Wilkins, the two people at the center of this investigation, had no reason to take retribution. Well, not in a specific sense. Those two had a penchant for doing bad things, but nothing about today's raid on the police station files should have set them off. He and the others on the investigation team had plotted their actions endlessly. They couldn't just go in and seize all files relating to Buffy Giles. That would have been a definite giveaway. So they had taken files relating to numerous cases and crimes. The action served two purposes, the first being that they would throw the focus off taking Buffy's files, and the second relating to the FBI's suspicion that if the police had covered one crime, they likely had covered others. If they reviewed other cases, it was entirely possibly they would find more infractions to add to the list of charges against their quarries.
Somewhere, somehow, the plan had gone wrong, and Gunn was kicking himself for it. Angel's house had been torched and Buffy and Angel had been in serious danger. Gunn had no proof the fire was arson, but he'd bet his new Jag that it was. The fire and today's seizure of police files were just too much of a coincidence. It had to have been deliberate. For what reason, he wasn't quite sure yet, but he intended to find out. In the meantime, he couldn't quite stop beating himself up for not putting a man on Angel's house to keep watch. What was he going to tell Fred? She was not going to be happy her brother had almost been killed.
“Excuse me,” he said to the group around him before turning to go back to the ambulance. At the back of the vehicle, he stepped up next to one of the paramedics. “How are they?”
“Lucky,” the paramedic answered. Gunn noticed his nametag said Riley F.
“Any serious injuries?” Gunn questioned, his eyes trained on the two patients in the ambulance.
“Not that I can see. Neither have any burns. It's mostly just smoke inhalation and irritation to the eyes. Buffy is a little worse off than her friend,” Riley explained the results of his examination. “They'll need to go back to the hospital to get checked out, make sure there's not any lung damage, but I think they'll be fine. In any case, a couple hours on oxygen will be needed.”
“Right.” Gunn rubbed his forehead. That was going to be a definite complication. He pulled Riley aside. “Listen, we might have to work something out about that, but I've got to make a phone call. Before we work on that, though, I need to ask you to keep the woman's identity to yourself.”
“Sure, uh, okay,” Riley agreed, but seemed uneasy.
Placing a hand on the paramedics arm, Gunn put on his most serious face. “This is extremely important. A matter of life and death, if you want to call it that. No one at all can know she was here. Do you understand?”
Riley's eyes drifted to the young woman with soot-stained blonde hair who was huddled next to a much larger man. He couldn't help but wonder what she was involved in that put her in such danger. Was she in the Witness Protection Program, or was something going on here in Sunnydale? Riley wasn't sure. He had only moved here six months ago. He didn't want to see the woman hurt, though, so he would do as the agent named Gunn asked, even if it meant breaking a rule or two.
“Whatever you need me to do, I'll do,” Riley told Gunn.
“Good, thanks. Is it okay if I go talk to them? I need to get some information about what happened here,” Gunn informed him of his intentions.
“Sure. Just make sure they keep using the oxygen.”
Gunn nodded at the request and left the man. In a few steps, he was standing at the back of the ambulance. Both Buffy and Angel looked battered and tired, but otherwise okay. Their faces were stained with soot, clothes blackened by it as well, and Buffy had a scratch on her arm. Gunn was just grateful that neither had sustained any burns.
The second paramedic, a woman named Tara, was attending to the cut on Buffy's arm. When she finished Gunn gave her a look and jerked his head. “Could you give us a few minutes?” Hesitant, the woman stared at her two patients and frowned. “Don't worry, I'll make sure they keep breathing the oxygen.” he assured her.
“O-okay. I'll b-be right over there if you n-need me,” Tara answered with a noticeable stutter in her voice that gave Gunn pause. Was she nervous about something? He eyed her critically but saw nothing to make him suspicious.
“How are you both holding up?” Gunn asked when the were finally alone.
“Been better,” Angel grumbled
“Just peachy,” Buffy moaned at the same time.
“Right. Kinda figured that.” Leaning against the door, Gunn released an apologetic sigh. “I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. I should have had someone watching the house.”
“It's not your fault,” Angel relieved him of his guilt, or tried to. “None of us really thought anything would happen.” He paused and then looked more seriously at his friend the FBI agent. “Do you have any idea yet what did exactly happen?”
“Not really,” he admitted with a weary shrug. “I started to get a bad feeling when we seized the files at the police station and after. We didn't have taps on anyone's phones, couldn't get the warrants for it, but we were monitoring if they made any calls through cell phone logs. There was a jump in activity just after we got to the Sunnydale PD and afterwards.”
“What do you mean?” Buffy jumped into the conversation.
“Just that after our arrival, there were a bunch of calls going between Walker, Mayor Wilkins and at least one other person. That wasn't sitting right with any of us,” Gunn explained the events from earlier. “We were trying to trace the other number on the logs and the whole thing was just seeming more off so I was gonna head over here to keep an eye on Buffy. Just as I was about to leave, we caught a call to 911 about a fire.”
“So that's why you got here at the same time as the fire truck,” Angel concluded, remembering how he'd seen the dark sedans pull in behind the firemen.
“Yeah.” Folding his arms over his chest, Gunn studied both of them. “I assume it was one of you who called for help.”
“I didn't-”
“It was me,” Buffy cut Angel off.
“Right. Which leads to my next question. What exactly happened here, and don't leave out any details,” Gunn stated firmly, needing to make sure nothing was left out. It could be important later.
Buffy took a deep breath, then coughed. Her smoke-damaged lungs hadn't appreciated the effort. She pulled together her memory of the afternoon, though her brain was still a bit scrambled from everything that had happened. “I was doing some cleaning since there was nothing else to do. My mind was sorta elsewhere, thinking about everything. I'd just turned off the vacuum when there was this crash.”
“Crash?” both Gunn and Angel interrupted.
“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes narrowing. “Glass breaking. Honestly, I didn't think anything of it at first. I thought the kitten had gotten into something again. So I went looking for her, but when I got to the kitchen the curtains were on fire, the window was broken, and there was a bottle on the floor.”
“A bottle?” Gunn said sharply. “What kind of bottle?”
“One of those cocktail-thingys, I think. I don't know what they're called.”
“A Molotov Cocktail?” chipped in Angel.
“Right. That's it!” Buffy exclaimed. “One of those was on the floor below the curtains and they caught on fire.”
“Arson,” Gunn growled angrily. So he'd been right. Someone had taken retribution. The exact reason was yet to be determined. “What happened then?”
“I just sorta stood there for a minute. I mean, the house was on fire. I didn't even really have time to think what that meant because I knew I had to try to put it out.” Buffy shivered at the remembered feeling of helplessness. “I was filling a big pot with water to throw on the curtains when there was another crash coming from I thought the living area. I didn't even bother to look. I knew what I'd find, so I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. There was no way I could do anything with two places on fire.”
“How come you didn't get out right away? The fire department guys said you and Angel were just exiting the house when they arrived,” Gunn inquired about the discrepancy.
“I couldn't leave without Shadow. I went looking for her and finally found her under my bed upstairs, but she was petrified and wouldn't come out.” Buffy pointed at the cut on her arm. “She did that when I managed to grab her. When I got back to the hallway, it was filling up with smoke. I could barely see and it was getting hard to breathe. I was about halfway down the stairs when Angel found me.”
“So you weren't home?” Gunn asked Angel for clarification.
“No.” Angel then went on to explain how he'd had to go in to work for a little while. He told them both how he'd asked Willow to keep in touch with Buffy by phone since he was so busy, and about how Willow had called him saying she wasn't getting any answer at the beach house. “I rushed right out and drove to the house,” he concluded.
“Seems like you got there just in time.” Gunn squeezed Angel's shoulder, sharing without words the knowledge that they'd escaped. Barely.
Just then, a furry black head poked out of the neckline of Buffy's shirt and stared owlishly at the assembled group. Gunn peered at it curiously. “You do know you have a cat in your shirt, right?”
“Oh.” Buffy blushed and tugged Shadow out of the safe cocoon she'd been in. “I didn't have anywhere else to put her.”
Beyond them, they heard a commotion and all three heads turned to look toward the driveway. They couldn't see anything, but soon heard someone shouting.
“Buffy! Buffy!”
“Daddy,” Buffy whispered, recognizing the strained bellow.
“Here,” Angel took the kitten from Buffy and gave her a nudge. She stood shakily and moved beyond the ambulance doors. It took only a few seconds for Giles to spot her and then he was at her side, pulling her into his arms.
Angel knew there were still strained emotions between them, but at that moment, they didn't matter. He was still Buffy's father and she latched onto him tightly. The shudders working through her body told Angel she was crying. That was not unexpected. She'd been through a lot today.
For the first time, Angel had the chance to gather his bearings. He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving Buffy. So close. He'd come so close to losing her. She may have gotten out of the house on her own, but what if she hadn't? What if she'd collapsed on the stairs and he hadn't gotten there in time? He should never have left her!
Before Angel could fall deeper into second guesses, he shook himself out of it. They were both fine. That was all that mattered. But as he sat there gazing at Buffy clutching her father, he knew that things were about to change drastically. Everything from her past was about to come to head. He didn't need Gunn to tell him that. He knew. Angel wondered where that would leave him.
“I'm guessin' that's her father,” Gunn's voice intruded on Angel's thoughts.
“Yeah.”
~`~`~
Wrapped in her father's arms, Buffy couldn't seem to stop the tears that trailed down her cheeks. Everything was overwhelming her and when she'd seen her father racing toward her, all she'd wanted was to have him hold her and tell her everything would be all right, like he'd done when she was a little girl. All the distance and angry feelings between them ceased to exist. At least for the time being.
“Are you okay?” Giles whispered, his face buried in her dirty hair.
Buffy nodded. “Yeah. Just a little smoky.”
“Thank God!” he hugged her tighter, needing the reassuring feeling of presence. “When Angel's assistant told me he'd rushed out, I knew something was wrong.” Just then, Giles looked up and saw Angel and a man he didn't know approaching. He glared at Angel, finding the need to blame someone. “What the hell happened?”
“Excuse me, sir. I believe I can answer that,” Gunn interjected.
“And who, may I ask, are you?” Giles demanded.
“Charles Gunn, sir.” He flashed the badge attached to his belt. “FBI.”
“FBI? But what-”
Giles didn't get a chance to finish his question as another set of shouts sounded from nearby. The calls this time came from Willow and Spike, who were dashing across the driveway towards them.
Gunn placed a hand on his firearm and eyed the newcomers uneasily. Once they were closer, he realized he recognized them as two of the people who had accompanied Buffy to the meeting in Los Angeles. “Those are two of your friends, right?”
“Yes,” Buffy answered just seconds before she was swept up in a hug by a frantic Willow.
After assuring everyone that both Buffy and Angel were relatively unharmed, Gunn ushered them back towards the ambulance. Both paramedics, Tara and Riley, had been giving him unhappy stares over the fact that their patients weren't following orders by breathing the prescribed oxygen. Once he had the two settled back on the seats in the vehicle with the masks attached to their faces, Gunn took the lead on explaining the events that had led to that point.
Giles' displeasure at everything was obvious. He hadn't wanted to involve the FBI in the first place. All he'd wanted was for Buffy to remain safe. Still, he remained silent, but didn't hesitate to glare at the people he felt responsible for putting his daughter's life at risk.
Gunn had just gotten to the point in the story where he'd come on scene when his cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, pulling the device off the clip on his belt and turning his back. He kept his voice low and no one could tell what he was saying, but when he turned back around two minutes later, there was a strange look of triumph on his face.
“We caught the guy who torched Angel's house as he tried to haul ass outta town. He's currently being transported to FBI headquarters in Los Angeles.”
Nearly fourteen hours after the fire at Angel's house, Buffy was restlessly pacing on the soft, cream-colored carpet inside a downtown Los Angeles hotel suite. She couldn't seem to do anything but pace from one end of the room to the other. Considering the events of the past day, she should be exhausted, and she was tired. Sleep was just utterly impossible. There was too much going on, too much to think about.
After the fire had been dealt with the day before, Gunn had pulled every string possible to keep the situation under wraps. The FBI didn't want anyone to know about her existence until it was completely necessary. As a result, they had called in a helicopter to transfer her and Angel to a hospital in Los Angeles. It was the best way to keep her identity secret. If she'd gone to a hospital in Sunnydale, someone was bound to figure out who she was. In Los Angeles, the FBI had more control.
She and Angel hadn't had to stay long for treatment. The hospital had checked them over to make sure there weren't any serious injuries from the smoke inhalation, which there weren't, and kept them on oxygen for a little while. By mid-evening, they were released and checked into a hotel in LA under false names with orders from the FBI to stay put and not talk to anyone.
Her father had not been happy when Gunn ~asked~ him to stay in Sunnydale. Giles had been ready to leap into his car to be by Buffy's side as she was checked out by the doctors in LA. If he had done that, though, if he'd gone to LA and stayed there, it would have made the situation more suspicious than it already was. Giles eventually understood that. As did Willow and the others, but they weren't happy about it.
So it was just Buffy and Angel staying in the rather cushy hotel suite. Oh, and the guard posing as a bellhop outside in the hall. But it was just them inside, and had been just them since they were dropped off the night before. Oddly enough, they hadn't really talked much. Angel had insisted Buffy go straight to bed and said he was doing the same. Buffy went, but sleep never really came. She'd only stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the fire, and what it seemed to mean.
Though no one had actually said it, Buffy got a clear impression that everything was about to come down. The fire was by no means a good thing, but at the same time, it seemed to have set the ball in motion. From what Gunn had said yesterday in Sunnydale, the arsonist was under arrest. And she had a feeling that the FBI expected all the pieces to fall into place with that one capture.
God, what if that was true? she mumbled silently. What if all of this, all of the pain she'd lived with for the last seven years, was finally going to be over? Even if the people who had murdered her family, and tormented her for years were brought to justice, Buffy didn't lie to herself. The pain would never really go away. She would never be able to forget all that had happened in Sunnydale.
Her Mom. Dawn. Owen. The rape. Everything after it. The four years spent in seclusion. No, she'd never be able to ever put all of that out of her mind. It would always be a part of her.
A flicker of a memory flashed before her eyes. She saw her family as they'd lain in the den of her house, blood spattered around them. The image wasn't clear. It was clouded by a surreal fog that made everything fuzzy but did nothing to hide the grotesque scene. A shiver worked through her body, making Buffy rub her arms.
“Are you cold?” Angel asked, jostling Buffy out of the past. She'd almost forgotten he was sitting at the breakfast bar only a few feet away.
“No,” she shrugged restlessly. “I was just...thinking.”
Angel said nothing. He sensed Buffy wasn't in the mood to talk at the moment. She was wound tighter the a Hollywood starlet's enhanced face. Not that he was any less tense. Everything they'd been working for the past few weeks was happening. The arms of the law were about to close in around the creeps who had ruined Buffy's life. The truth was finally about to be told.
And then Buffy would be free.
For now, Angel was trying to ignore what all that might mean.
“When is Gunn going to get here?” Buffy growled as she paced from one end of the little living room in their suite to the other.
“Probably soon,” he answered, wishing he could give her a more definite answer.
They were waiting for Gunn to arrive to give them an update on the case. All they really knew was that someone had set fire to Angel's house, and that the FBI believed they'd arrested the man responsible. Beyond that, they were in the dark as to what had happened afterwards. That was why Buffy was so anxiously pacing the room. Angel would be too if he felt he had the energy for it.
Angel could tell his response didn't please Buffy. She desperately wanted to know what was going on. He hoped Gunn arrived before she wore a hole in the carpet.
A solid knock sounded from the door just then and Angel almost sighed in relief. Finally. He stood and walked to the door. Surprisingly, Buffy stopped her pacing, but remained rooted in her spot. Tension lined her face, he noticed when he glanced at her. As much as Buffy wanted answers, he knew she had to be nervous. So much hinged on what happened from this point on.
Checking the peep-hole first, Angel saw that it was indeed Gunn. He felt his gut clench as he opened the door and let Gunn into the suite.
“I brought some coffee and bagels in case you guys hadn't eaten yet,” Gunn held up the bag he had in his left hand and rattled it. “Why don't we go sit over there,” he nodded to the conversation area made up of several plush sofas around a black lacquer coffee table.
After handing out the coffees, Gunn took a seat and crossed his legs. “I won't beat around the bush since you probably want to know what's going on.”
“Thanks,” Buffy breathed out heavily. She didn't know if she could wait much longer.
“I'll start at the beginning, then” he began. “Like I said yesterday, several suspicious phone calls went out from Wilkins and Walker. There were three to an unknown cell phone number. While I was at your house dealing with the fire, we had men trying to trace the number. They found that it belonged to a known thug so an A.P.B. was immediately issued for the guy. As luck would have it, a California state trooper spotted the guy's car on a highway leading out of Sunnydale.”
“Did he put up a fight?” Angel inquired, thinking that catching the guy had been an extremely lucky break. He wasn't complaining, though. It was about time something went Buffy's way.
“No,” Gunn shook his head. “He pulled right over and surrendered himself. The trooper held him in his car until one of our agents could take him into custody.
Gunn leaned back against the sofa and took a second to stretch his stiff shoulders. He was exhausted after having been up the whole night working. “We were worried that he would lawyer-up and keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately for him, we found the makings for the fire bombs in his car. Pretty much meant he was dead to rights.”
“Knowing he was screwed,” he continued, allowing for a slight dramatic pause. “He sang like a bird.”
“You're kidding!” Angel exclaimed. Two breaks! Could they possibly be this fortunate?
“Not in the least,” Gunn gave Angel a predatory smile. “He spilled everything he knew, and believe me when I say, he had a lot to tell.”
“Was...was...,” Buffy stumbled on the words. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Was he the one who killed my family?”
“No,” answered Gunn apologetically. He knew how much she wanted the person who committed the actual act to be caught. “He's just an underling, for the most part. But he's got a pretty good idea who was hired to do it.”
“So Wilkins and Walker really were the ones who ordered it,” Angel mused. Even though he'd known the truth, it was strange hearing it all out loud.
“We're still working on putting all the details together. The guy who torched your house knows enough to keep us on that path.” Gunn took a gulp of his coffee. He hoped the caffeine would give him at least a small boost. “But...unless this guy is lying his pants off, we do know that it was Mayor Wilkins who ordered your house to be crispy fried.”
“Bastard,” Angel muttered. Buffy could have been killed in that fire!
“I agree,” concurred Gunn emphatically. “So I thought you would want to know that we have issued an arrest warrant for Mayor Richard Wilkins III on arson and related charges.”
“That's it? Just for the fire?” Buffy's voice was almost frantic as she spoke. They couldn't just arrest him for that! What about what he did to her family?
“For now, but believe me, more will come,” Gunn assured her. “Right now, that's the most solid charge we can go for. Our guys are still working on the rest. They've only gone through some of the files we seized from Sunnydale PD, but so far, there appears to be confirmation that the murders of your family weren't handled appropriately. Once we get everything put together, we'll know more.”
“So what happens next?” Angel inquired, leaning forward to study Gunn.
“Right now, another agent is working on getting the arsonist's sworn statement of everything he knows about Wilkins and the police chief. We want it all on paper what he knows,” Gunn laid out. “Someone is on their way to Sunnydale to pick up Wilkins and bring him to LA. I'll probably be questioning him later. We're also going to bring in Chief Walker for questioning. We can't arrest him just yet, but he seems to be the lesser of the two. If we put the pressure on him right, we may be able to get him to spill all he knows, too.”
“Do you think they'll all go to jail?” Buffy wanted to know. She dearly hoped they would. They needed to pay for what they'd done!
“I wish I could promise you everything would go like clockwork,” said Gunn. “We're pretty confident we're building a good case, but there's always a way for something to go wrong. We'll do our best to make sure that doesn't happen.”
“Thanks,” Buffy imparted softly.
“You're welcome.” Standing, Gunn set down his coffee. “I need to get back to headquarters so I'll be there when Wilkins is brought in.”
Buffy stood as well. She twisted her fingers together, debating whether she should ask Gunn the question that was weighing on her. Would he let her do it if she asked? She wouldn't know unless she spoke up.
“Gunn...I, um...there's something I'm hoping you can do. Actually two things...”
~`~`~
Five long, slow days passed before Gunn was able to fill the first of Buffy's requests. Both Angel and Gunn had tried to talk her out of what she wanted to do, but she'd been adamant. She'd told them it was something that she needed to do, as well reminding them that she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Angel could find little fault with her arguments. That didn't stop him from worrying about her.
The last week had been hard on her. Despite the fact that they'd been staying in a hotel suite together, and that they were around each other almost twenty-four hours a day, they hadn't spent much time doing any serious talking. Most of their waking hours were spent watching movies on the hotel's pay-per-view, or on the phone with anxious friends and family.
Giles, Willow, and the others from Sunnydale were under strict orders to remain where they were and to act like everything was normal. The only way they could contact Buffy was via the telephone, and the same went for Angel. He'd spoken to his sister, Fred, a few days earlier to assure her he was fine. She'd wanted the details of what was going on, but he'd had to put her off. Until Gunn gave him the okay, Angel had to keep the situation under wraps. Fred hadn't been happy with him about that.
All of that would likely change after today. What Buffy planned to do would make everything about her life, and what she'd suffered through, known. Well, not directly, but once she was through, it wouldn't be long before everyone else found out.
Angel watched Buffy as she stood at the window in one of the waiting rooms of the FBI Headquarters in Los Angeles. She hadn't said a word since they'd been told to wait in the drab, almost-empty room. All she had done was stare out the window. Angel wished there was something he could do to ease her nerves, but there wasn't anything. He would just simply have to be there for her if she needed him. She would be fine, though. She was strong.
When the door opened and Gunn stepped into the room, Buffy's head whipped around and her fingers tensed on the windowsill. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Gunn asked in as gentle a tone as possible. He couldn't imagine how she would deal with what she was about to do.
“Yes,” she replied replied firmly as she turned and steeled her shoulders. There was no way anyone was going to talk her out of this. She HAD to do it.
“Okay,” Gunn nodded once. “We're ready.” Swiveling, he strode out of the room, leaving Buffy and Angel to follow behind him.
In less than a minute, Gunn led them into another room with a glass pane giving a view into another, smaller room. Several agents were milling around in the main room, and all eyed Buffy as she stood just inside the door. Gunn hesitated, and looked to Buffy again. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
Buffy opened her mouth to say 'no', but realized she didn't want to go in there by herself. “Yes, please.”
“Okay. Let's do it. Just remember you can leave anytime you want,” he told her before walking to a second door that led into the smaller room.
Angel could only watch as the door was pulled open and Buffy took a deep breath before following Gunn inside. He quickly turned his eyes to the glass pane that would allow him to see everything that happened on the other side. If that bastard did anything more to hurt Buffy, he would pay.
Standing behind Gunn, Buffy flinched as the door slammed closed behind her. Gunn's large form kept her hidden from view momentarily, but that would eventually end. She would have to stand on her own all too soon.
“I trust there is a valid reason you are still keeping me locked up in this filthy, germ-infested room, Agent Gunn,” a man's voice spoke out loudly.
The sound made Buffy shudder. She had the tempting thought of turning and fleeing, but pushed it away. She wasn't a coward. She could do this. Taking one more deep breath, she side-stepped Gunn and allowed herself to be seen.
“What...what the hell...what's going on here?!” Mayor Richard Wilkins stuttered as he leapt to his feet. “You're dead!”
Gunn viewed Buffy for a moment. “Nope, I think she's alive.”
Silence descended as Wilkins' jaw snapped shut. Gunn could almost see the thoughts racing in the man's head. And he had a pretty good idea of what he would say next.
“Agent Gunn, I want you to arrest this woman! She's a known murderer!”
Yup, Gunn was right. Just as he'd expected. He leaned casually against the wall, enjoying this more than he should. “Murder, huh? I assume you mean the deaths of three members of the Giles family? Interesting thing about that. We have evidence that implicates you and your associates in their murders. So guess what that means? You're the murderer, not Miss Giles here.”
“That's ridiculous! I'm a public official!” Wilkins roared.
“Sit down, and shut up!” Gunn ordered, snapping to attention. “Miss Giles has something to say, and then she is leaving. So you will keep your mouth shut until she's done.”
Oddly enough, Wilkins complied, but Gunn had a feeling it had more to do with the shock of the situation than the command he'd given. “Go ahead, Buffy,” he gave a quick nod.
Hands trembling, Buffy stepped forward and stared Mayor Wilkins squarely in the eyes. She didn't quite know what she wanted to say, but it would come to her.
After another moment's silence, she spoke.
“I know what you did, to my family, to me, to my friends. There's a word for people like you: evil. And someday, maybe soon, you'll end up where all the other murdering bastards go: to hell. I'll do everything in my power to see that you are never free again, that you'll never be able to hurt another person like you did the people I love. I hope you enjoy prison and that you have a nice roommate named Bubba who'll make you his playmate,” she threw in at the end just because it made her smile to think of him being treated like someone's bitch.
Finished doing what she needed to do, Buffy swiftly pivoted and headed toward the door.
“You better watch you're back, missy! You'll pay for this insolence!” Wilkins shouted at her back.
As she left the room, she heard Gunn say, “That's not a threat, is it? That's not smart, Richie-boy.”
The moment Buffy made into the outer room, Angel was at her side. “You did really good,” he said and pulled her into a tight hug, sensing she needed it.
Buffy latched on to him and held tightly, her body still shaking over the encounter. She felt liberated, though. She'd faced her past and one of the men who had ruined her life and taken her family away from her. It was like a weight had lifted off her back, making her feel lighter than she had in years.
“I wasn't sure I could do it once I got in there,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“But you did, and stood up to him. I'm really proud of you,” he whispered back, not wanting the others in the room to hear their private conversation.
“Thanks.” She pulled back and smiled slightly at him “I'm glad I did it.”
As she stepped out of Angel's arms, Gunn reentered the room, leaving a pacing Wilkins behind. “You did great, Buffy,” he relayed, giving her a slight pat on the shoulder. “Ready for round two?”
Rolling her shoulders and blowing out a breath, she walked toward the door. “Yep.” She was ready for anything, now. It was time to face door number two. So she followed Gunn to the interrogation room where Sunnydale Police Chief Walker was being held. One down, one to go.
~`~`~
Two hours later, Buffy and Angel were back in their hotel suite with Gunn. The meeting with Chief Walker had gone similar to the one with Wilkins. Except for the fact that Walker had seemed absolutely stunned to find her among the living. His face had bleached white at the sight of her and he'd nearly fallen off his chair. Gunn had a feeling the meeting would serve two purposes. One: Buffy would get some much needed closure. And two: the honorable Chief Walker had a lot to think about. Gunn hoped the man made wise decisions.
“It's not such a great idea to go back to Sunnydale,” Gunn said to the pair sitting at the little breakfast bar. “Once the press gets a hold of this story, they'll be all over you.”
“I know,” Angel sighed, thinking about the mess that was to come. “But we both need to go back.”
“I want to see my father and my friends,” Buffy added softly, her mind still on the two encounters she'd had at the FBI headquarters.
“All right,” Gunn relented, not liking the idea. “Just remember to not say anything to the reporters. Tell them 'no comment' or something. They don't need to know anything we don't want them to know.”
“Okay,” they both agreed.
“And try to keep out of the public eye for a while. We're still trying to round up all of the Mayor's lackey's and I wouldn't want to see anything happen to either of you,” Gunn issued another order.
“Do you think there will be trouble?” Angel asked, tensing at the thought.
“It's possible, but not likely. Wilkins is the leader of this ring, and he knows we'll be watching him closely.” Twisting his wrist, Gunn looked at his watch just as a knock sounded on the door. “Right on time.
Striding over to the door, he peeked through the spy-hole to confirm the visitor then turned the knob. He greeted the guest and allowed him to enter the room. When the door was shut again, he led the man to the silent pair on the other side of the living area.
“This is Agent Graham Miller. He'll be accompanying you to Sunnydale and staying with you until we're sure that there won't be any revenge from Wilkins,” he explained the presence of the other agent.
“Staying with us?” Buffy mumbled as a sudden though occurred to her. “I don't even know where I'll be staying.” Angel's house had been damaged in the fire.
“We can't go back to my house yet,” confirmed Angel. “The fire wasn't able to do much damage, but some repairs need to be made before we can go back.”
“I took the liberty of speaking to you father, Buffy,” Gunn responded and shrugged when Buffy's eyes narrowed at him. “It's the best place for you to go right now. It's away from the public, and there's room to bring an agent in. He's expecting you tonight.”
Angel took Buffy's hand and held it in his. “You don't have to go back there if you don't want to.”
She didn't answer right away as she thought about the notion. Finally she shook her head. “No, it's okay. I need to go back there sometime. And it would probably be good to talk to my Dad.” She'd faced two of her demons already. Now she needed to make peace with her father. They needed to talk about all that had happened and get on with their lives. She may not be happy with what he did, but he was still her father and she loved him regardless. Just like he'd still loved her when he'd thought she had murdered his wife and two other children.
“Good. It's settled then.” Gunn pulled out a card and handed it to Angel. “That has all my numbers on it if you need to contact me in an emergency. Graham will be driving you back to Sunnydale as soon as your ready.”
“We don't have much to pack, so we'll be ready soon” Angel told the agent.
“Take your time,” Graham replied
“It'll only take me a few minutes to throw my stuff in a bag,” Buffy suddenly said and nearly jumped off her stool. She hadn't been all that anxious to go home, but now she was.
“Are you okay?” asked Angel, staring at her with a frown on his face.
“Fine,” she mumbled more to herself than to Angel. “There's just one more thing I want to do today.” One more thing to make peace with her past.
~`~`~
After a quiet drive from Los Angeles, the car carrying Buffy, Angel and Agent Graham Miller entered the Sunnydale city limits. Instead of turning left and heading in the direction of the Giles house, the car went right, heading to an alternate destination. They would arrive at the Giles' eventually. There was just one stop to make first.
Beside Angel in the back seat, Buffy sat watching the scenery passing by her window. Most of it was familiar, but hadn't been seen in many years. Other than the trip to Santa Monica with Angel, and the hectic helicopter trip to LA after the fire, she had not seen any parts of Sunnydale besides her father's house, the beach, and then later, Angel's home. It was strange to be seeing it all again.
“We can do this tomorrow,” Angel broke the silence in the car. Buffy looked exhausted. He was worried that she was pushing herself too hard.
“No, today,” she answered simply and went back to staring out the window.
Within minutes, Agent Miller was pulling the car into a parking lot set in a quiet area on the southern end of town. He shut off the engine and twisted his body to look at his passengers. “I'll wait here. Take your time,” he relayed, seeming to understand the gravity of what Buffy had decided to do once back in Sunnydale.
“Thanks,” Buffy responded softly and opened the door to step out of the car. Though she hadn't asked him to, Angel followed. She was grateful for his presence, but she wanted to do this alone. So after she reached the grass at the edge of the parking lot, she looked at Angel. “Could you wait here?”
“Sure,” he gave her a small smile, telling her without words that he'd be right there when she got done.
Buffy mumbled thanks and walked away, staring down at the piece of paper in her hand with the directions she'd gotten from Willow by phone before leaving Los Angeles. It didn't take her long to reach the place she sought. Her heart clutched when she found herself gazing down at three headstones that bore the names of her mother, brother and sister, none of which she'd ever been able to see before.
Dropping to her knees before the middle grave – that of her mother – Buffy felt tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't try to stop them from falling. It would have been impossible.
“Hi, Mom,” she began, her voice just above a whisper. “I'm sorry I haven't been here before. I would have come if I could.” She paused to swipe at the tears falling steadily down her cheeks. “I miss you so much, and I'm so sorry that this happened to you. Willow and everyone tell me that what happened to you wasn't my fault, and somewhere inside I know that, but I still feel responsible. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry and I love you.”
Her eyes shifted to the right, to Dawn's grave. “Dawnie...you used to drive me nuts. Always following me around and wanting to borrow stuff. I miss walking into my room and seeing you digging in my closet. I never thought I'd miss things like that, but I do. And who's gonna watch E.R. with me and ogle the cute doctors?”
Sniffling heavily, Buffy's eyes moved to the last headstone. “You never got to go to Europe and back-pack through fifteen countries, did you? I remember how much you wanted to do that, but Dad was making you work and save up to pay for it yourself. I was kind of jealous that you were going to do something so adventurous, but I was always happy in Sunnydale.” She sighed. “Now this place is just a ton of bad memories.”
Glancing at all three graves, Buffy bowed her head, tears falling to the ground below her. “I love you all and I miss you.”
With one final look at those she'd loved and lost, Buffy stood and returned to Angel. As he had back at the FBI headquarters after she'd confronted Mayor Wilkins, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. Her heavy sobs shook both their bodies and her tears soaked the front of Angel's shirt, but he didn't mind. There was little Buffy could do that would offend him
He would hold her as long as she needed to be held. He'd let her cry as long as she needed to. And he'd been there for her as long as she wanted him to. He wasn't sure he'd be able to leave her even if she asked.
~one month later~
The telephone rang and Buffy turned to glare at the evil contraption. She hated the damn phone! So far today she was pretty sure it had rung at least ten times. And it was only noon! Thank goodness for Caller ID or she would have to deal with answering it all the time. That was something she definitely did not want to do.
The story of Sunnydale's Mayor, Police Chief, and a young woman named Buffy Giles had broken in the media two days after Buffy and Angel returned to Sunnydale. The fact that the Mayor of Sunnydale had been taken in and questioned by the FBI, and charges had been filed against him was big news. Combine that with the Police Chief also being involved, and the story would have commanded coverage in itself. Unfortunately, a leak in the FBI office added more fodder for the journalists by spilling the details about the murders of the Giles family, and the movie-plot-like involvement of the remaining Giles offspring.
Since then the media – TV, print, radio – had launched a full-scale assault at Buffy, wanting any tid bit of information they could find. They camped out near the Giles house, tried to sneak onto the property, called all hours of the day, and whatever else they could think of. Giles was forced to hire guards out of Los Angeles to keep the press from charging the house. Whenever the phone rang, they left it go – having disconnected the answering machine – and only answered if the Caller ID showed it was someone they wanted to talk to.
So Buffy found herself being held prisoner. Still. Again. Whichever. All that mattered was that she didn't leave the house. If she did, it would be ugly. The media was dying to talk to the woman who brought down Sunnydale's mayor and police chief. Who'd been raped and saw no justice. Who'd had her family killed and been called responsible. Who'd been thought dead for four years. Buffy couldn't exactly blame them for their interest. It didn't mean she had any desire to talk to them.
In the end, it all meant Buffy was trapped in her house again. This time, though, it was by her own choice. She could go out if she wanted, but she chose not to. If avoiding the media meant staying inside, then she'd gladly do it. She just wished it wasn't an issue period. But it was, so she remained at her father's house and tried to untwist the mess that was her life.
A month had passed since her name had truly been cleared, and the people responsible for killing her family had been charged. That by no means implied that chapter of her life was over and closed. The FBI was still trying to put all the information together and build their case. There was still the trial to come as well. Much to Buffy's relief, both Wilkins and Walker were being held in jail without bail until their trials were over. The judge had found them to be a threat to society if allowed their freedom. Buffy was grateful for their incarceration. It was one less worry for her, though Gunn warned her that a powerful man like Richard Wilkins had many connections. So far, the evil man hadn't tried anything.
There was also still the worry that they wouldn't be convicted of all the charges against them. Wilkins could certainly afford a good lawyer, and some people just had a knack for weaseling themselves out of trouble. Gunn didn't seem to think that could happen. They had an ace in the hole, as he liked to say.
The ace being Police Chief Philip Walker. Buffy's visit to him at the FBI offices a month ago seemed to have scared the man senseless. The realization that Buffy was alive and spilling her story made Walker follow suit. He'd apparently opened his mouth and hadn't shut up. Buffy didn't know yet what all he'd said. Gunn had only told her the man was talking and saying a lot. She was anxious to know more.
Feet treading on the floor jerked Buffy from her thoughts, and she looked up from her magazine as Angel stepped into the room. A smile instantly lit her face. She was becoming so used to having Angel around all the time that she didn't know what she would do once he moved back into his own house. He could have done it already. The fire hadn't damaged much, and it was still livable, but with the media tracking him too, and the danger from Wilkins still somewhat present, Gunn felt it better that he stay at the Giles house. Willow and Spike spent most of their time at the house as well.
The four of them, along with Xander at times, used their free hours to simply hang out. Angel still had his job, but Giles saw to it that most of the work could be done from the house. Willow and Spike had to go into their internet cafe a few times a week, but they had a manager for now so that they could stay away and keep the press out of their business. So they spent their time playing board games or cards, watching movies, or just talking. Buffy enjoyed the care-free moments greatly.
She glanced at Angel out of the corner of her eye as he came to sit on the side of her bed where she was sitting reading the current issue of Cosmo. Her heart sighed at the simple sight of him. He was truly a beautiful man. Though she accepted that knowledge, it still made her edgy. She knew there was a certain chemistry between them. It was strange and new, but she realized its existence. She just did not have any idea what to do about it, or if she could handle doing anything about it.
Other than the one kiss they'd shared, and a few caring hugs, their...relationship was only as friends. At times she felt as if Angel were watching her as if he wanted more. Willow seemed to think Angel had deeper feelings for Buffy as well. If he did, he kept them close to the vest. Buffy was a little grateful for that. She cared about him, definitely. He was kind, sincere, and gentle. And she was certainly grateful for all he'd done for her. It was just that the idea of intimacy scared her thoroughly.
Over the past few weeks she'd wondered what would happen once her life belonged to her again. Angel had come into her world as her savior. That task was almost done now. Would he fade away as if he'd never been there? Buffy didn't think so – or at least she hoped not, but she didn't know what would happen. Would they simply remain friends? Would he get frustrated at her fears and push her away? Buffy didn't know and she was hesitant to ask him. For now, she just wanted to enjoy his presence and his friendship.
“Hi,” she finally greeted him.
“Hey,” he smiled back at her. “Anything interesting in your magazine.”
Buffy shrugged. “Not really. Just the usual girl-talk stuff.”
“Oh?” he teased, one eyebrow raised.
“Yup. Nothing good,” Buffy quickly replied. She wasn't about to tell him that she'd been reading an article about how to 'Kiss Your Guy Senseless'. She sighed. If only she had the nerve to try out some of the techniques.
Angel held back the grin threatening to break out. He knew the kinds of things printed in Cosmo. He wouldn't embarrass Buffy, though. She was enjoying being a young woman for a change. It wasn't his place to tease her too much.
“I talked to Gunn just a few minutes ago,” he said instead, referring to the phone call he'd been on just before coming to Buffy's room.
“What did he say?” she asked eagerly, wanting an update on the case.
“He'll be coming down to Sunnydale in a few hours to tell us all the details. I guess they've put together a lot of the story in the last few days,” he explained, anxious himself to know more about what had been going on with the case against the mayor and the police chief.
“Oh, okay.” Buffy twisted her hands nervously in her lap. “I really want to know, but at the same time, I'm nervous to hear it all.”
“Don't worry,” he assured her, taking one of her hands and holding it gently. “Everything will be fine. And besides, Gunn didn't sound worried or upset about the case. I'm sure it's going well.”
“I know. It's just soo...”
“I understand.” He squeezed her hand, wondering yet again where she found all the strength to deal with everything. “Why don't we make it a little more fun and less formal? Willow and Spike will be here tonight, and so will your father. We can call Xander, too, and cook hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.”
Buffy smiled, liking the idea. It would almost be like a party, with all her friends there with her. “I'd like that.”
“Good. Then that's what we'll do. I'll ask Willow to pick up some food on her way over,” he pondered the details. “Maybe Gunn can pick up Fred and bring her down with him.”
“That'd be cool!” Buffy agreed whole-heartedly. She'd met Angel's sister three weeks ago when Fred had come to Sunnydale to see her brother and to talk about everything that had gone on. Buffy'd liked the woman, finding her genuine and sweet.
“Okay, I'll go make some calls and arrange everything,” Angel told her, standing from the bed.
“Thanks.”
Buffy was still smiling as Angel walked out of the room. There weren't words to describe how much she enjoyed the freedoms she had now. She could call her friends and see them whenever she wanted. She could sit out on the deck and have a barbecue. There wasn't any reason to hide anymore. Well...she was hiding from the press, but that was a different story.
No sooner had Angel left her room than her father poked his head in. It was kind of strange to see him just pop by. Almost as strange as it was being back in her old bedroom, which she'd decided to return to, no longer wanting to be tucked away in the attic now that it wasn't necessary.
She gazed at her father and felt mostly love for him. They had talked quite a bit since she'd returned home. Things weren't perfect, but they were better. At times she still felt a little bitter, but if she were honest, she couldn't exactly blame him for what he had thought of her. She'd been set up for the murders and her father had been under a lot of stress. On some level, she could understand why he'd believed she'd done it. The hurt was still there, but Buffy was trying to get past it. Giles was, after all, the only blood-family she had left.
“You said earlier you wanted to speak with me Buffy?” he questioned, taking a step into the room.
He still felt wary at times around her. So much had occurred between them. If only....he sighed. He couldn't change what he'd done years ago. Couldn't take back what he'd thought. His only hope was that Buffy had forgiven him. In all honestly, Giles wasn't sure what he'd have done differently. All he'd wanted was to protect his daughter. At least it seemed as though she didn't hate him.
“Yeah. Could, um...could you close the door.” Buffy wanted to keep this conversation private. She'd been thinking about it for two weeks now, trying to decide what she wanted.
“Of course,” he agreed and shut the door before stepping closer to the bed. “What's on your mind?”
Buffy chewed lightly on her lower lip. How should she start this conversation? And would her father go along with it?
“I've, um...I've been thinking...about what I want to do...after...ya know, once this is mostly...done...”
~`~`~
“This was a great idea!” Willow exclaimed with a sigh as she sank into one of the lounge chairs on the back patio of the Giles house.
“Bad day at work?” Angel asked from where he was sitting at the wrought iron table a few feet away.
“Not really,” Willow shrugged, lowering her sunglasses against the glare from the setting sun. “It was just busy. Aside from the reporters who try to sneak in, everyone in town wants to come in and gawk, or say they were part of...everything.”
“Bloody wankers!” Spike cursed as he stood at the grill with Giles. “They seem to forget what big fans they were of the mayor.”
“The wonders of selective memory,” Giles concurred, thinking about how badly his family had been treated by the people of Sunnydale after Buffy had been raped.
“You're gonna burn the bloody burgers, Rupert!” Spike jabbed Giles with his spatula.
The comment led to a spirited argument between the two about the proper way to cook on a grill. Buffy, Angel, Willow, and Xander could only shake their heads. They were like a pair of little old ladies bickering over the last pair of support hose. None of them minded. The fun atmosphere was a welcome amenity.
Several beeps sounded and Giles vacated the grill to grab his new cell phone that had walkie-talkie service – an addition he'd had to make recently because of the situation with the media. He pressed the button and spoke into the phone.
Through the phone's speaker, a voice boomed back. “The FBI agent, Gunn, is here with Mr. O'Meara's sister,” said the security guard Giles had hired to watch over the driveway entrance to the house. “Should I let them come up?”
“Oh, yes! I'm terribly sorry, I meant to tell you they were coming by,” Giles answered into the phone.
“Okay. I'll let them through.” The guard signed off.
Giles fiddled with the phone, trying to click it off. “Stupid contraption! You need a bloody manual to use it!”
“Gotta move with the times, Rupert,” Spike teased, glad to have to grill to himself. He was the one, after all, who knew how to use the thing. He received a glare from Giles for the remark.
Soon, Gunn and Fred joined the group. By unsaid agreement, talk of the case was shelved for a while. They chatted about happy topics, anything to keep the carefree mood up. When the food was cooked, they all sat at the tables and enjoyed hot dogs and hamburgers. All too soon, the meal was over, and the chatter died down. The time had come.
“I guess you want to know what's been going on,” Gunn broke the sudden tense silence.
“Now or never,” muttered Buffy. She really did want to know, but she hated that they'd been having such a good time, and now the troubles of her past were again going to cast shadows.
“All right.” Gunn nodded, stood, and wandered the patio for a few seconds. “We've been able to put together a lot of the details now. It seems as though the full reach of Wilkins' grasp goes back a ton of years. So I'll just start at the beginning. It'll help everything make sense.
“Okay.” Angel took one of Buffy's hands in his, offering her comfort as they sat and listened to the story of Sunnydale's corruption and how Buffy, and the Giles family, became the victims of power and money.
Gunn began by telling the group how Richard Wilkins III and Philip Walker met while taking a political science course in college. A friendship developed between the two, lasting through college. If Philip walker thought his friend Richard was a little odd or devious, he had thought nothing of it. At least not until a fateful few days he spent with the Wilkins family at their weekend getaway ranch in Arizona a few years after they'd graduated from college. He'd been left forever wondering if he shouldn't have turned down the free trip.
What Philip hadn't known before going to Arizona was that Richard was in a battle with his father, Richard Wilkins II, over when the elder Wilkins planned to retire as mayor of the Wilkins' hometown of Sunnydale, California. The younger Wilkins wanted to become mayor himself, but his father was holding him back, as he wasn't yet ready to give up his position. That, Philip later learned, hadn't sat well with Richard III.
That's how it came to be that Philip and the two Richards were out riding one afternoon at the Arizona ranch. And that's how it came to be that the elder Wilkins fell to his death into a deep canyon. And that's how it can to be that Philip saw Richard III push his father into that same canyon. Philip Walker had been shocked and appalled at such a murderous action, but the promise of power and position had kept his mouth shut.
After the death of Mayor Richard Wilkins II, a special ballot was held in Sunnydale, and Richard III won a landslide victory, the prestige of family aiding his win. Upon being sworn in, he promptly named his good friend Philip Walker as police chief.
And so began many years of favors and promises being traded back and forth, with Philip always possessing the knowledge that Richard III had committed murder to get where he was. A fact that did not sit too well with Sunnydale's Mayor.
That knowledge came into play when Philip Walker's son was accused of rape by one Buffy Anne Giles. Fearful that his son would be convicted and sent to jail, he called in a favor from good buddy Richard to help get his son out of trouble. Knowing he owed his friend, and hating it, Wilkins bribed and coerced the D.A. and other officials to get young Cameron Walker off. And because of their overwhelming prestige and popularity in Sunnydale, along with Cameron's athletic and academic prowess, their public supported them, and shunned Buffy and the Giles family.
The story would have ended there if it hadn't been for Buffy's, and the Giles family's, continued insistence that she had been raped and that the police chief's son was responsible. Richard Wilkins III didn't take well to people defying him. So he did everything in his power to make them pay. He encouraged his friends to make life rough for the Giles family, and Buffy in particular. And when they complained, or claimed harassment, he used his power to turn the accusations against them. Again, the people of Sunnydale supported their elders, and deemed Buffy a crazy woman, as well as the slut who cried rape.
Still, the tragic chain of events would have stopped there, Gunn told them all, if it weren't for the fact that sexual violence in a person wasn't generally a one time event.
“No!” Buffy gasped, her heart hurting for what she suspected he was about to say. “Please...don't tell me...”
“I'm sorry, Buffy,” Gunn said softly. “In his junior year of college, a freshmen girl came forward and claimed that Cameron had raped her.” Tears flowed down Buffy's cheeks as Gunn continued.
Again, Philip Walker went to Wilkins for help in getting his son out of a mess, Gunn relayed to the group. Wilkins had other worries, though. With two claims against the boy, people were more likely to believe the insipid females. And if people started to see the truth, they may have found out about his illegal doings regarding Buffy's case. He needed a way to further tarnish her image, and to get her out of the picture for good. He was not, absolutely not, going to allow some useless, whiny female to bring him down.
And so the plan was born to set Buffy Giles up for the murders of her family. What better way to discredit her, and put her out of commission than to have her arrested, her reputation completely ruined, and then thrown in jail? It was the perfect plan. Wilkins would save his own ass, and get Buffy out of the way, along with the added enjoyment of seeing Buffy and her family get their due for daring to stand against him. He wouldn't do the dirty work himself, of course. He had underlings for such filthy doings.
The plan worked, too. One of Wilkins' paid thugs bought a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, laced it with a drug, and slipped it into the freezer of the Giles house. When the family was out cold, he murdered three of them and framed Buffy.
Yes, the plan had certainly worked, and would have continued to be a success if it hadn't been for Rupert Giles' actions that night after coming home and finding the tragic scene. He faked his daughter's suicide, then hid her away for four years, wanting only to protect her though he'd believed she'd murdered his wife and two other children. That alone didn't change anything. Buffy was still considered a crazy murderer. And she would have continued to remain so if it hadn't been for the arrival of Angel O'Meara in Sunnydale.
The group knew most of the rest of the story from that point. They'd all been involved. Buffy's existence had been discovered, and they'd begun to investigate what had happened four years earlier when three members of the Giles family had been murdered. In the end, the truth came out.
“Man, what a sick, twisted mess,” Xander muttered when Gunn finished.
“How can somebody be that evil?” Willow asked of no one in particular.
“But why was Angel's house set on fire?” This came from Fred, the newcomer of the group.
“Wondered about that, too,” Spike seconded. “They didn't know Buffy was alive, did they?”
“No,” Gunn shook his head. “According to Walker, Wilkins was nervous about Angel's digging around and his association with you, and Willow. You'd always supported Buffy. When we showed up at the Sunnydale PD, Wilkins got more worried and decided he needed to send a message to Angel, or at least distract him, so he ordered the house to be set on fire. He had no no idea Buffy was inside at the time.”
“So this was all just to protect himself?” Buffy voiced softly, more tears flowing from her eyes. “He had my Mom and Dawn and Owen killed just so no one would know what he'd done after Cameron raped me?”
“I wish I could tell you otherwise.” Gunn walked over and squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. He knew all of this had to be hard for her to hear. He was just glad that he'd been able to start the wheels of justice rolling for her.
Angel turned to Buffy, still holding one of her hands. “At least you know, now.”
“I know,” she lowered her head, hiding the devastation on her face. “It's just hard to realize that someone could be so...evil.”
“Power is a great motivator,” Gunn said by way of explanation.
The cell phone Giles carried beeped again, signaling contact from the guard at the bottom of the driveway. “Yes?” Giles spoke into the device.
“I have an Agent Miller and guest here,” the guard explained.
Giles looked to Gunn for an explanation. As far as Giles knew, they weren't expecting anyone else.
“Tell him to send them up, and to come back here,” Gunn answered and nodded to the patio where they were all seated. As Giles did so, Gunn turned to Buffy. “Remember that second favor you asked me?”
“You found her?” Buffy exclaimed, jumping up from her seat.
“We did,” he confirmed.
Buffy dashed to the edge of the patio as the others looked at each other in confusion. “What's going on?” Willow questioned for the group.
Gunn refrained from answering, leaving it as a surprise. Within a minute, the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house, followed by the closing of doors, reached their ears. Everyone watched the entrance to the patio, waiting anxiously to see who was going to appear. Buffy had said 'her', but none of them, except Gunn and Buffy, had any idea who the 'her' could be.
Climbing the short staircase first was Agent Graham Miller. Behind him appeared a dark-haired head. When the woman's face came into view, everyone gasped. Except for Angel. He'd never seen the woman before, but it was obvious to him that he was the only one who didn't know her.
“Faith?” Xander exclaimed, nearly falling out of his chair.
“Oh God! Faith!” Buffy cried out and threw herself at young woman, hugging her tightly.
Faith's face showed shock and sadness as she saw the friends she'd been separated from for seven years. She'd known she was going to see them, but knowing wasn't the same as doing.
“Why did you leave? Where have you been? How did Gunn find you?” Buffy babbled the rush of questions. She was ecstatic to see her old friend, despite the fact that Faith was Cameron Walker's sister. For the short time Faith had been in Sunnydale after the rape, she had never once accused Buffy of lying about what happened. But then she'd disappeared, never to be heard from again. Buffy was desperate to know what had happened to her.
Faith pulled back from Buffy and let her eyes wander over all the people who had once been such a big part of her life. She knew them all except for the tall, dark haired man, and the petite woman with mousy brown hair. The others had all been her friends. Would they hate her now? She knew they had every right to cast shame on her. She wouldn't blame them if they did.
Not knowing what to do or say, Faith looked to Agent Miller for help. He'd been the one to come for her and knew what she'd been through.
“Just tell them the truth,” he advised.
So she did.
“My father made me leave,” Faith began, avoiding looking directly at anyone. “I heard him talking to Cam one night, and Cam admitted what he'd done. I already knew he was guilty as hell. I always...something always seemed a bit off about him even though he came across as the perfect son. But I knew you wouldn't have lied about what he did. Cam would have, but not you. That's what they were talking about that night when I overheard them, how they were going to get him out of trouble.”
She took a deep breath and paced a few feet. “I don't know what I planned on doing, but I burst in on them and told them they had to tell the truth, that they couldn't do the things they were planning to do to you. Cam...he...he hit me and told me to keep my mouth shut.”
“Faith...” Buffy whispered.
“The next morning, my father told me to pack my bags,” she went on as if Buffy hadn't spoken. “He sent me to a house in Connecticut and told me if I said anything, if I contacted any of you, I'd live to regret it. I knew he was serious. So I went to Connecticut and stayed there with a guard watching every single thing I did, until the FBI came knocking at the door a few days ago.”
Turning to Buffy with tears in her eyes, Faith reached her hands out helplessly. “I'm so sorry, Buffy. If I'd stayed, if I'd said something, none of this would have happened.”
“No, Faith,” Buffy walked over to her and pulled Faith into another hug. “This wasn't your fault. Who knows what they would have done to you if you'd said anything! I couldn't ask anybody to put themselves in that position.”
“But your family-”
“That wasn't your fault. And...and it wasn't mine.” Buffy was beginning to accept that it also hadn't been her fault that her family had been killed. At times she still blamed herself, but she knew she could have done little to stop it. “We were victims, Faith. All of us.”
“God Buffy, how can you not hate me?” Faith whispered, the tears in her eyes finally falling.
“I don't hate you,” Buffy replied softly. “What matters is that your back and that you survived.”
She'd survived. Just like Buffy had.
~`~`~
The moon was full and high as midnight drew near. Sleep hadn't come for Buffy. Too much weighed on her mind. Tonight she'd gotten all the answers to why her life had been turned upside down, why her loved ones had been killed. Why one of her friends had disappeared. It was a relief to finally know, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. Add to that the things she'd been thinking about lately, and what she had spoken to her father about earlier, and her mind was too keyed up to sleep.
So instead of lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she'd returned to her former haunt. The beach. It was a place that always brought her comfort and peace. She'd escaped here many nights during the past four years. It was risky to be there now, given that reporters were still seeking her out, but she was pretty sure she'd gotten away unseen.
She was right. Almost.
A shadow fell across the sand as Buffy sat watching the waves lap at the shoreline. She lifted her head, not all that surprised to see Angel standing off to the side just behind her. Smiling slightly, she patted the sand next to her. Angel complied, and soon they sat side by side, their thighs lightly brushing each other.
“Just like old times, huh?” Buffy mused. “It doesn't seem like it was less than two months ago that we first talked here.”
Tilting her head, Buffy gazed up at Angel's strong profile. “You're my savior, ya know? My Midnight Angel. You saved me from the darkness. I would probably still be hiding in my father's attic if it weren't for you.”
“I can't take all the credit, Buffy,” he disagreed in a soft voice, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. “Willow, Xander, Spike, Gunn...they all played a part. But it was your strength that got you through this.”
Buffy didn't reply directly. She thanked him silently again, knowing that despite what he said, her life was forever changed because of him. “I'm just glad it's mostly over. I can move on with my life now.”
“Do you know what you're going to do?” Angel asked the question that had been weighing on his mind quite a bit. He just hoped he could accept the answer.
Turning her face away, Buffy looked out over the ocean, out to places she couldn't see. She closed her eyes and leaned closer to Angel. She hated what she was about to say, but it was what she had to do. Her life, though better, was still a mess. There was only one way to change that.
“I'm leaving Sunnydale,” she finally told him.
The response didn't come all that much as a surprise. He'd almost been expecting it.
“When?” he forced out.
“The end of next week,” she relayed, her heart aching. It was time to say goodbye to her home, but it would be difficult leaving everyone – Angel – behind. “My father has a friend, Wesley, with a small house nobody uses in New Hampshire. He's already talked to him and Wes said I can stay there as long as I like.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Angel replied, hoping the sadness in his voice went unheard.
“I'll miss you,” she whispered, tears clouding her vision. Leaving Angel and all her friends was the last thing she wanted to do. But she had to. Getting away from Sunnydale was the only way to truly move on from her past.
“I'll miss you, too.” Angel hugged her tighter. He didn't want to see her go, knew it would tear him apart, but he wouldn't stop her. It was what she needed to do. “I'll always be your friend, no matter where you are. All I want is for you to finally be happy, Buffy. That's all that matters to me.”
Buffy raised her head and stared at Angel, feeling like her heart was being torn out of her chest. She reached a hand up and caressed his cheek. The slight stubble tickled her palm, but she hardly felt it. Her head tilted back further as Angel's leaned closer.
Their lips touched in a gentle kiss. There was no passion or heat in the embrace. The kiss was simply an affirmation of the connection they'd made, one that could not be broken. As their mouths separated, their bodies remained close, the contact further cementing the bond between them.
Together, they sat in each other's arms on the beach until sunrise, watching as the moon slipped beyond the horizon and dawn's light filtered through the air. Their time together was limited now. Maybe someday, when the past no longer shadowed the present, they would be free to seek more than friendship. But for now, both knew that no matter how far apart they were, no matter how much time passed, they would always have each other.
Some bonds were meant to last forever.
~`~`~ THE END ~`~`~
AN: I know that wasn't the ending everyone wanted or hoped for, but please hear me out. I spent a really long time agonizing on how to end this story. I really wanted there to be a happy, B/A ending to the fic. In the end, though, it came down to a choice between doing the riding' off into the sunset ending, or staying true to the story. No matter which way I tried to work it, a B/A ending just didn't fit the story. If I'd just stuck them together for the sake of 'shippyness, it would have been wrong for the characters and the situation. So that's why I ended the fic the way I did. I hope you'll understand.
As for the question of a sequel – which many people have asked me about – all I can say now is that it's likely, but not definite. I have something in mind, but haven't been able to think too much about it. But it is definitely possibly there will be more to this story, especially something to unite B/A...and to answer a question or two that I left hanging. Please don't ask me when it'll come out. I have absolutely no idea if or when a sequel would be posted.
I want to thank everyone who sent feedback on this story. I got so many wonderful emails about Midnight Angel, and I appreciated all of them. So thank you all very much!
Lastly, I will have a new AU coming in January – Smoke & Mirrors.
Until then, Happy Holidays!
~Isis FG
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