NC-17
'Cause I AM old enough! *grin*

"I see," Kate said quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"I hope you understand," Angel added, "I'd very much like for us to still work together... still be friends."

She looked back up again, and scanned his gorgeous face.  Of course she was disappointed that he didn't want to "see" her anymore-- she enjoyed Angel's company like she had no one else's in years.  But the happy glow in his usually sad, haunted eyes almost made it worth getting dumped.

Kate smiled, "Of course we'll still be friends, Angel.  That's all we've ever really been."

He nodded.  "Good.  I hope you know that I value your friendship," he said sincerely.

"And I value yours," she said.  She paused for a moment.  "So, what's brought about this little... change in attitude? If I can ask..."

His smile broadened.  "An old friend," he said vaguely.

"Must be some friend," Kate joked.

Angel nodded.  "She is."

Shifting comfortably into Buddy Mode (as years in the company of gruff, macho cops had taught her to do), Kate leaned over the desk a little.

"Tell me... what's she like?" She asked, sincerely interested in who could possibly have brought about this metamorphosis in him.

Angel scrunched his brow.  Did she really want to know?

"What... you really want me to tell you about Buffy?"

"Her name is Buffy? Where did you meet her, Go-Go Beach?"

He gave her a funny look.

"No.  Sorry," she apologized, "Little 'meow', there.  Tell me about her.  I know you're dying to... I can see it in that goofy grin of yours."

With a twinkle in his eye and a happy breeze in his heart, Angel told Kate about Buffy.  Leaving out the parts that sounded like something from an H.P. Lovecraft novel, of course.

*********************************************************

"Oh, wow..." Willow sighed dreamily, stretched out on her bed, "He said that? Like, out loud?"

Buffy took a deep breath that seemed to nearly double her size.  "Just like that.  Word for word."

"Wow..." Willow said, staring admiringly at her best friend, "Wow."

"Yeah.  And you know what the funniest part is? Being with him like that felt... so... familiar.  Like all this stuff had happened before," she looked wistfully out the window, "And the dreams I've been having..."

Willow sat up and leaned toward her excitedly, "Better than the real thing?"

Buffy looked back at her, "No.  Just... different.  He's always human."

"Oh," Willow replied, "Well, I mean, in a way, that would be better... easier, at least."

Buffy shook her head.  "I don't know.  I used to think so, but... I think maybe things between us are meant to be exactly as they are.  And we're exactly who we're supposed to be."

Willow beamed at her.  "You are so lucky..." she said, her voice edged with longing sadness.

Buffy got up and sat beside her, taking her hand, "You'll get your second chance, Will.  I know it."

The redhead smiled weakly, and fought the tears that threatened behind her eyes.  These days, she always felt like crying.  

"I hope so," she said.

A knock at the door broke the warm moment, and Willow rose to answer it.

"Oh," she said to the unseen visitor, "Um... Riley! Hi, uh..."

"Is Buffy here?" she heard him ask.  Willow spun around, looking desperately at her.

"I... well..."

"It's okay, Willow," Buffy said.

She moved out of the way, and the room was instantly filled by Riley's enormous body.  He fidgeted awkwardly and stared down at Buffy.

"Um... so... I've gotta... you know... go..." Willow muttered, and scurried out of the room.

Riley closed the door behind her, and sat down on Buffy's bed.

"I guess we need to talk," he said, looking down at his hands.

Buffy felt bad for him.  "Yeah, we do," she said.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, before he looked up and into her pretty face.  "So... you saw your ex in LA," he began.  Buffy nodded.  "And, considering you were there for two days, it's probably safe to assume that things went... well," he went on.

"They did," Buffy concurred.  She suddenly had no idea what to say, but he seemed to be taking the reins from her.  It was a strange feeling, but welcome, under the circumstances.

Riley nodded in understanding.  It hurt, to know this would be the last time they were alone together like this.  "The others... the way they responded to the whole thing... I'm guessing there's a pretty long history there.  You've been together for a long time."

Buffy looked at him.  His big shoulders sagged, and his usually bright and cheerful face was drawn into a painful frown.

"Not always together," she told him honestly, "But we've been through a lot, yes."

He looked straight into her eyes, "You love him," he said.  He wasn't asking, only stating a point of fact.

"I do," Buffy said without hesitation.

"Well..." Riley said.  "Then it's over.  I'm not sure what else to say."

He looked away and got up.  Buffy watched him.

"I don't think there's much else to say..." she said sadly.  She really would miss his warm simplicity...

"That's it, then.  I guess we've covered everything."

Buffy started at the familiar words.  Had she said them to Angel only a few weeks ago?

"I guess we did," she answered, as Angel had.

Riley gave her a final small, sad smile, "Then... I'll see you around," he said, and walked out of her room without another word.

"Yeah," Buffy said to the door, "See you around."

*********************************************************

Angel knew he wasn't going to make it down the stairs before the machine picked up, but he ran anyway, tossing the keys and his bag of groceries on the table and sprinting to his desk.

"Angel..." It was Buffy.  His heart leapt.  "Please... if you're there, pick up..."

She was crying.  He grabbed the phone.

"I'm here.  Buffy, are you alright?" he asked frantically.

"I broke up with Riley," she sobbed.

Angel grit his teeth.

//Be supportive, idiot.  She did it for you.//

"Oh, Buffy... I'm sorry," he said.  Of course, the only thing he was really sorry for was her obvious misery.

"No.  It's okay... I mean, really, it was easy..." she told him.

"Well... that's good, isn't it? What did he say?"

"He... he just said he'd see me around," Buffy sniffled.

"That's it? Good for him," Angel said, "No need for a scene, right?"

"But... I thought he liked me!" she cried.

Angel felt his chest clench with jealousy, but he fought to keep his cool.

//Friend mode.  Friend mode.//

"I'm sure he did, Buffy.  How could he not?  But... what did you expect him to say?"

"I don't know," she lamented, "I thought maybe he'd argue, just a little at least, you know?"

"Honey..." Angel sighed, "You just spent two days here with me without so much as a word to him.  I think he probably got the message right away.  Talking to you was just a formality."

Buffy's sniffling slowed, then stopped.  "You're probably right," she said, "I mean, we really didn't know each other that well.  It wasn't like he was in love with me or something..."

Remembering Buffy's immediate and earth-shattering effect on him, Angel wasn't so sure.  But he wouldn't tell her that.

"Right.  It's all for the best," he assured her, "Besides, I like you."

His voice was soft, like velvet, and Buffy found herself immediately comforted and warm.

"I like you, too," she replied, relaxing back on her bed.

"What are you wearing?" Angel teased lightly, hoping to cheer her up with a little good-natured leering.

"Just a tee-shirt," Buffy said seriously, her own voice low.

He'd meant it to be a joke.  But his instant erection at her words made him think that maybe this could turn out to be a fun miscommunication.  He collapsed into his easy chair.

"Nothing else?" he whispered, conjuring the visual in his head.

"Mm-Mm," she said.

"Tell me how you're laying," he requested.

"I'm on my back..." she said, stretching languidly.

Angel moaned softly.  "I can hear you stretching... I love to watch your body work... the way your muscles go taut and then soft, and back again... it makes me crazy..."

"How crazy?" she breathed.

"I'm already hard as a rock," he replied.

"Mm.  Rock-hard is good," she said.

"It's very good," he agreed, "Except for the pants part."

"Then take them off," she suggested.

Angel looked around him, as if to check for anyone who might be watching.  The apartment was, of course, empty.

"Right here?" He asked her.  He was pretty certain he'd never used a phone as a sex toy before -- they'd come along long after his cavorting days were over.

"Right there.  Right now," she whispered.

He complied, and sat back down, perching the phone on his shoulder.

"Okay..." he informed her.

"What are you wearing?" Buffy asked.

"Black turtleneck.  Emerald boxers.  Silk..."

"Ooh.  I like you in green," she purred, "Take them off, too."

"What? Buffy..." he objected.

She chuckled at his reticence.  "Just do it," she ordered softly.

He did, so that he sat in the chair in nothing but his turtleneck, his hard-on poking up at him.  Angel felt like a total idiot.

"Fine."

"You're bottomless?" she grilled him.

"I am."

"So am I..." she whispered, "I'm thinking about your hands on me... everywhere..."

Angel shut off his brain and let his throbbing body take over.

"Where? Where am I touching you? Tell me."

"My chest... oh... you use your fingers... lightly... on my nipples.  They're so hard..."

He listened to her breath quicken, and his blood immediately began to boil.  He felt as thought he were starving for her, already, and they had only been apart for a few days.

"Yes... I love your breasts... the way they fall when you lay on your back... the way the move when you move... the way they respond to my mouth... I love to feel them crushed against me."

Buffy moaned.  "Then you put your fingers inside of me.  All over... deep... God, Angel, I'm so wet..."

He closed his eyes, the sensation of wanting her almost as strong as if she were in the room with him physically.  He could practically smell her.

"Does it feel good?" he groaned, reaching for himself, and clutching his erection in his hand.

"Yes... it feels... uh... like Heaven..."

"Are you touching yourself?" he asked.

"Mmmm... yes.  But... it's you, touching me... your hands... your fingers... your mouth."

"I love to lick all the juice from inside you... I like running the very tip of my tongue all around the outside of your opening... up over the lips, over the very tip of your clit...  I love to suck it... feel it throb in my mouth... feel your body move beneath me, around me..."

"Yes..." Buffy panted.

He could hear small grunts escaping her throat, and the vision in his mind of her masturbating on the other end made him throb against his own smooth stroke.

"I want to be inside you, Buffy... slide in, deep, where I fit so perfectly..."

"Filling me..." she groaned, remembering the sensation vividly.

"Yes.  What do you want? What do you want me to do?" he asked, breathing so hard he could barely speak.

"Fuck me," she said, "Hard.  Ugh..." 

He closed his eyes and let the vision unfold, the soundtrack her own moans and sighs as he smoothly stroked himself in time with the imagined rhythm of her heart.

"Uh! Oh, Angel..." her senseless moaning grew, going on and on for a few minutes.  He concentrated on the noises she made, training his hearing so he could almost hear her hand on herself.  Then, he heard her cry out once more before she relaxed again with a winded sigh.

"I won," he said, releasing himself.

"What? What do you mean, you won?" she said breathlessly.

"You came first.  I won," he informed her.

"Oh, fine then," she pouted, feeling flushed and satisfied as she slid her body under the covers, snuggling the phone to her  face like it was Angel himself.

"Buffy..." he said seriously.

She yawned.  "Excuse me.  Yes?"

"I love you.  Are you okay, now?"

Buffy chuckled softly, "I'd say so.  I feel better, if that's what you mean.  Only trouble left is lunch tomorrow. Not just with Willow -- with everybody.  At Giles' place," she told him.

Angel sighed, "Are you sure you don't want me there?" he asked again.

"No, I'm not," she admitted, "But if I'm going to convince them I'm making a mature decision, then I'd better be mature about it."

"Very sensible.  Don't worry, you'll do fine," he promised her, "And make sure you call me right after and tell me how it went."

"Are you hanging up already?" she whined.

"It's late, Buffy.  You have to go to sleep, and I have to go to work," he looked down, and realized he was still half-naked, and mostly hard, "And put my clothes back on."

"Don't," Buffy whispered.

He immediately sprang fully to life again.  "Why not?"

"Because," Buffy told him, "I'm going to tell you a bedtime story."

Angel moaned happily, and settled back into the chair once again.  The woman whose basement was haunted by the ghosts of a thousand rats her exterminator husband had killed could wait.

*********************************************************

Buffy felt like she was getting ready to face a firing squad when she walked through Giles' front door.  And there they were -- her executioners:  Giles, Willow, Xander and Anya.  Of course, Willow was probably really her ally, but she knew the Witch would try to remain neutral.

Giles looked up when she entered.

"Buffy," he said, "Do join us."

Buffy marched up the platform toward the gallows...

"Hi, guys," she said, holding up her hand in a pitiful excuse for a greeting.

They just looked at her, waiting.  All Buffy could think was how facing three angry people would be so much easier than the, what, seven who had cornered her in the Sunnydale High library senior year?

She sat in the only empty seat, which just so happened to be the wing-backed chair that stood alone at the top of the circle of furniture -- the proverbial "hot seat".

Giles sat with his hands folded in his lap.  "Willow tells us you have something you'd like to say."

Buffy looked slowly around at her friends' faces.  She suddenly wished that Oz was there, too.  At least then there'd be one neutral expression in the room.  She let her gaze skip over an already fuming Xander, and settled on Anya.  The newest member of their dwindling group sat, looking mostly bored.  A good place for Buffy to put her focus.

"I don't really want to be here," the ex-demon told her, "Except that I want to know when I should start running for my life.  I hear Angelus is as mean as he is gorgeous... OUCH!"

Xander elbowed her roughly and shot her a nasty look.  Anya shrugged and settled back on the couch.

Buffy's old friend leaned forward, his dark eyes shooting daggers at her.

"Really, though, Buff, Anya's got a good point.  How long do we have before your demon lover shows up looking to have us all for dinner?" he asked coldly.

"Xander..." Willow warned.

Buffy held up her hand.  "No, Will, it's okay.  It's a legitimate question," she held Xander's gaze, "Angelus is not back.  Angel is still Angel, and none of us are in any danger.  At least not from him," she said.

"How can you be so certain?" Giles interjected, "You don't know what effect your prolonged exposure to one another might be.  You have no proof that..."

Buffy looked the man, who might as well be her father, straight in the eye.

"We're pretty certain," she told him.

Giles looked at her.  "What do you mean? How... oh," he blushed, "I see."

"YOU MEAN YOU ALREADY SLEPT WITH HIM???" Xander screeched, "Oh, GOD! This is worse than I thought!  Anya, hand me that sword.  I'm gonna get this over with quickly."

Before anyone could respond to his melodrama, the basement door burst open, and Spike came barreling inside.  He looked around at the surprised faces.

"Am I too late? Did I miss anything?"

"Xander was about to commit Hare-Kari," Anya told him.

"Oh, good," Spike said, and took a seat at the kitchen table to watch.

*********************************************************

Angel tried to read the next Latin passage in the exorcism, but the angle of the light was falling too far off the page.

"Cordelia!  The light, please?" he asked, exasperated to see that his assistant was more concerned with watching the floor for ghost rats than with helping him dispel them.

"Sorry!" She squeaked, and held it up too high, still looking fearfully at the floor.

Angel snatched the flashlight from her hand.

"Come on, Cordelia.  They're not even corporeal," he barked at her.

"I don't care if they weren't in the Army!" she snapped back, "They're still rats!"

Angel rolled his eyes.  It was moments like this that he really missed having Buffy beside him.  He shook his head to clear it of her image.  No time for that now.  Time for that later, when he called her.

He read the passage again.  He wanted to get this over with -- he was none too fond of rats, himself.

//Only ten days.  Only ten days until I see her again.//

*********************************************************

Buffy sighed, leaning her head on her hand, looking out the window at the last blazing rays of the day beginning to dance their way down over the horizon.  Angel would be getting out, now, prowling the streets, dark and mysterious and gorgeous, doing... hero things.

She looked down at the manila envelope in her hand.  There was no mistaking his careful script, spelling out her address on its surface.  There was no need for a return address -- she could feel him, all over it.  She lovingly traced her name across the paper, and could almost hear his soft voice saying it:

Miss Buffy Anne Summers

So formal, like an old-fashioned gentleman... which she knew he was.  Her heart skipped at beat at the memory of his voice, and she replayed many of his eloquent words of love in her mind as she carefully opened the envelope.  A single sheet of fine parchment paper was all that it contained, and Buffy gently pulled it out.

It was the two of them, as they must have looked coming out of the theatre last week -- she in her gown and he in his tuxedo, arm-in-arm and face-to-face, smiling brilliantly at one another.  He'd even captured the lights and the detail of the marquee behind them, complete with a portrait of the Phantom.  It was as though he had brought a photographer to take candid shots of them, and then drawn the picture from those.  To think that he had done it from memory...

A single line of elegant calligraphy bore the only message, drawn carefully in ink at the bottom of the sketch.

Anywhere you go, let me go too...

Buffy burst into happy tears, grabbing the phone and dialing his number before the first one fell.

"Yeah, Angel!  Cordelia, NO! Not... the red one, damn it! Doyle, will you show her which sheath I was talking about, please?" he shouted, then came back, "Sorry.  Angel, here."

"Hi," Buffy said quietly.

He was immediately calm again, and left Doyle and Cordelia to bicker over the weapons cabinet in the outer office.

"Hi..." he said softly, "Are you okay? I was worried about you.  How did it go?"

"It sucked," she said, "But that doesn't matter..."

"No, it does.  Were they upset?" he went on, "What did they say?"

"Shut up," she sniffled, "Shut up for two seconds and listen to me."

He did.

"I got your present," she told him, holding the picture up to look at it again.

Buffy could almost hear him smile.  "You did?"

"I did."

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful.  Perfect.  Just like that night..." she sighed, "How do you do that, Angel? How do you capture moments like that?  It's so... everything is just right.  Just like I remember.  How do you even know what you look like?"

"From you.  I can see myself reflected in your eyes," he told her, "When your life moves as slowly as mine does, you learn to pay attention to the little details.  That's where all the true beauty lies."

"You're amazing," she said, "You remember everything..."

"I'll never forget..." he said.

They both froze -- Buffy, because the words set off all the same alarms in her head that her dreams did, and Angel, because he had chosen those particular words to say.

They were silent for a long time.

"I miss you," Buffy said finally, "Nothing's right, without you here."

Angel sighed longingly, "I know.  Everything feels... off," he agreed.

"It won't be forever, though, right?" she asked, almost wishing he would beg to come see her now.

"No.  It won't.  I'll see you next week, remember?" he reminded her.

"I mean after that..." she cried softly, "I don't want to be this far away from you.  It hurts too much."

"I know," he said, almost on the verge of tears himself.

"We need to rethink this whole long-distance thing," she told him, "Soon."

"We do," Angel agreed.

The door to his office crashed open, and Doyle came sprinting inside, Cordelia close at his heels, waving a nasty looking dagger at him.

"You come back here, you rotten little..." she shouted.

Doyle ducked behind the desk, trying to dodge her.  "I'm sorry!" he shouted back.

"You can't just come out and tell me something like that and then walk away!  I mean, a BRACHEN DEMON???  You wait until now to tell me that?" she circled the desk menacingly, swiping the knife in the air to punctuate her words, "I almost slept with you! GROSS!"

Doyle stopped for a split second, protected by the desk between them.  He stared at her.  "You did?  You did! I knew it! I told you!" he yelped happily, looking over at Angel, who sat on the edge of the table near his office door.  The vampire waved the phone at them to illustrate that he was using it.

Cordelia stood up straight.  "Oh.  Sorry," she said, "But he..."

Angel cut her off with a look, reaching out to take the knife from her hand.  "I wanted you to sharpen it, " he said, "Not carve Doyle with it."  He slipped it into his pocket.

Cordelia scowled at him, turned on her heel, and stormed out.  Before he followed, Doyle stopped beside Angel and gave him a wink.

"See? I told you," he said, and left.

Angel sighed, exasperated yet again.  "Are you sure you want to come spend any time here?" he asked Buffy.

"I'm glad that they're there," she told him, "They're good for you."

"You're good for me," he corrected her.

She smiled, "Cordelia really cares about you.  That's important."

"Yeah," Angel said wistfully, looking to the door where his friends had so recently been, "It is."

*********************************************************