From: "Jen Guyver" <email@example.com>
Rating: PG with nudity ( don't ask how that works, it just does)
Summary: Angel reflects, Buffy interrupts , Angel screws up and they end up
in bed together. I have a thing with them in bed together (who doesn't). It
can be called fluff except for the part where Angel screws up... oh just go
read it and I'll shut up.
Disclaimer: Some mean man, who doesn't deserve them, owns them. I don't want
to say his name because it nauseates me to do so.
Authors notes: I don't have any just read it and give me criticism.
as it hurt I knew I deserved it. Listening to the voices
of the thousands I had hurt, it was like therapy. They had the last words in
the end, they got to hurt me back. It lessened the pain. Buffy didn't
understand, instead she just busied her self making sure I returned to my
normal, brooding self.
I always felt bad
about having her take care of me. Like she doesn't have
enough things to worry over. I hate letting her see me when I'm weak because
she's the epitome of strength, where I falter, she excels. She always does
the right thing(,) no matter how difficult the decision. The image of her
thrusting her sword into my heart is forever emblazoned in my mind. Two
hundred and fifty years of memories and that's the one that stands out the
Every time I saw
her after my return, her guilt was so evidently etched on
her face she grimaced when she smiled. I tried to tell her that I didn't
care what she had done. My throat was raw simply by the amount of times I
would say I'. I didn't care that she had sacrificed me, I would implore her
to make the same decision a hundred times over.
I fall asleep every
morning with the dream of her small, strong body
pressed firmly against mine, needing the contact between us as much as I
did. Before her 17th birthday I would sometimes stay to tuck her in at
night. It became a need that rivaled my body's demand for blood, to watch
her sleeping form. She looks so peaceful, so innocent, even when she's
tossing and turning, caught in one of the nightmares that visited her
frequently. I loved the nights when she would moan my name, her face glowing
with pleasure and I would close my eyes and place myself in her dream.
Sometimes after a rough night, she would flip me over when I went to kiss
her goodnight, and burrow her head in the crook of my shoulder as she
drifted off to sleep.
That sign of trust
meant more to me then anything else in this world or the
next. To let a vampire into her room when she was most vulnerable was
something that went against her every instinct. She defied them, she defied
everything, even God. I'll never forget when she rose from the dead. Nerves
of steel, stronger than ever before. She defied logic, simply by being that
beautiful. Aphrodite must have been jealous.
unearthly in the way she moves. It alerts everyone around
her, they stiffen knowing a predator's near. It also attracts a lot of men,
the element of danger. It was also the reason demons went after her, when
they should have kept out of her way, it was the thrill of being fought by
something too gorgeous. It's the reason she saw more fights then any other
I love her
stubbornness. Her love for life. Her devotion and loyalty. I
love the essence she gives off. It's also everything I hate. I hate her
courage and her strength. Her intelligence and her beauty. I hate them
because they're constant reminders of what I'll never be. I don't hate her.
I'll never hate her. She can yell at me, kick me, beat me, kill me again and
again, but I'll never be able to hate her.
I hate the fates,
for giving me a taste of heaven. She's the apple in the
garden of Eden. One taste of her and I'm destroyed. Yet God is more
vindictive then that. He's let me back into Eden, but he's made the apples
sweeter, better and I'm helplessly addicted.
I can feel the sun
begin to set and I realize I spent the whole day
dreaming of her. I'm not surprised, I'm sure I'll never be able to sleep
again after my night with her.
I can smell her in
the air now. It's like the sweet smell that follows an
April shower. The scent that comes before the flowers bloom and the trees
fertilizer?" Her voice startles me and I drop the book I was
holding. "You were talking to yourself, sorry."
I can't think of what else to say and an awkward moment passes.
We stare into the flames, a heat incomparable to our own passion. "Not
fertilizer" I blurt out, I feel like a teenager. She does that to me, I
blame my sudden decline in maturity all on her.
She looks confused and gives me the dumb blond stare she
so well at her old school. It really doesn't work though, given that she's
far from dumb and not a real blond. "Oh, fertilizer, well I didn't think
That's it, the
pathetic extent of our conversation. We can't look at each
other because we know we won't be able to finish what our gazes will start.
We can't speak because the next words out of our mouths will be "I love
it just pops out and I'm not sure where it came from. I had
been waiting for the right time to tell her, but this wasn't it. Apparently
my brain decided to ignore that fact and open my big fat mouth.
she repeats, her eyes burning into the back of my head. It's
more a statement than question. "Way to start being spontaneous Angel. You
picked the best topic for your first try too." She turns away angrily, but
she's actually just stunned.
"I'm sorry. I ... I..." I try to start again " you knew ... "
She interrupts me. "Knew what exactly?"
"You knew I
had to leave." She's defeated, her shoulder slumps and her
cast to the floor.
she whispers, I have to strain to be able to hear her. It seems
like an eternity passes with us just standing at opposite sides of the room.
get some sleep, I'll walk you home." She's in my arms before
can finish. Her small hands grasping handfuls of my shirt and pressing her
face into my chest. "Sleep with you" is her muffled response.
"Buffy . . .
" I start to protest, but a sharp jagged pain in my ribcage
reminds me she's the slayer and it's her call.
"If that's ok."
She asks quickly. She doesn't want to pressure me into
anything, the wounds from her last birthday have yet to close.
Maybe I'll finally be able to sleep" the last part is
one of those things I hadn't meant to say tonight. She smiles at me, sensing
my embarrassment over my loose tongue. That's not the only thing I might not
be able to control tonight, I think. Thought(though) the rapid flush on her
cheeks tells me it wasn't only me who heard it.
My cheeks are as
red as hers when I lead her into the bedroom. I tell her
to change here, she can take me of my shirts if she wants and I go to the
backroom to change. I debate wearing a shirt with my boxers but I want to be
able to feel her closer.
She's already under
the covers when I get out. Her face is bright pink and
I wonder if she's flushed all over. It's hard to pull my head out of the
gutter when my biggest fantasy is lying in my bed.
I climb into my
side of the bed holding my nonexistent breath for the
contact I know is soon to come. She scoots over to me and I gasp when I feel
her bare breast against my arm. It takes me a while to realize she's
completely naked, given that I'm thinking with another part of my anatomy. I
try to swallow but it feels like there's a bowling ball lodged in my throat,
I'm glad I don't breathe or else I would be hyperventilating.
she whispers and that's it I loose whatever small grip I had on
control. Her sweet breath tickles my arm and I feel myself shrinking away
from sanity. The fight for some kind of mental control over myself not the
only thing becoming harder. She sees this and smiles, proud of her ability
to cause me so much discomfort. She's asleep within a matter of seconds.
I was wrong about
not being able to sleep without her. I can't sleep with
her either. Although this type of insomnia is a lot more enjoyable.
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