Blind Faith
He opened the door, and almost died for the second time in his life from the shock. There she stood, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, on his doorstep with an unsure look on her face.
"Hi," she said, uncertain of her welcome, and even more uncertain of his reaction.
Angel did not speak. He reached out with one arm and hauled her inside, slamming the door and pinning Buffy up against it. He smashed his mouth down on hers, devouring her like chocolate, his hands clutching desperately at her soft suede jacket.
Buffy, thrown momentarily off guard, recovered quickly and began to sob in relief as she kissed him back, threading her fingers through his hair and holding his mouth to hers.
"Don’t cry...don’t cry, little one..." he whispered to her, letting his mouth trace a soft path up her nose to her forehead and down over her cheeks, feeling the satiny skin beneath his lips and tasting the torrent of tears. "It’s all right. You’re here, you’re safe," he continued to soothe, puzzling over her sudden appearance but thanking the powers that be that she was here.
Buffy tried valiantly to stop her tears, sniffling sadly and hiccuping. "Oh, nice. Look what I did to your shirt." She eyed the wet spot on his blue t-shirt, but Angel just quirked up his mouth at her.
"Dampen my clothes any time."
Buffy looked up, wondering if she really heard the sexual undertones, but he had already taken several steps away from her toward the small kitchenette, where he retrieved a tissue from the box on the sink. Returning to her, he led her to the narrow bed and eased her down on it with him.
"You’re here," he said, matter-of-factly.
She nodded miserably, but didn’t talk.
"I’m glad," he encouraged.
"You are?" She looked hopeful for the first time since he’d yanked her inside.
"God, Buffy, of course I’m glad. You think I wouldn’t be happy to see you?"
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Thought maybe you’d gotten...distracted, or something."
"Distracted? How do you mean?"
"By someone...er, I mean someTHING."
"Something? What kind of something? Are you here scouting?" He looked genuinely, adorably confused.
"Yes," she confirmed. "We got word of a demon here. A special demon," Buffy said softly, looking at her fingernails.
"Well, damn, Buffy, I can help you with that. I mean, that’s what we do now, Cordelia and Doyle and myself."
"No!" she said suddenly, furrowing her brow. "Giles said...uhh...he said that only the Slayer can take care of this one. But I needed you to show me where she...it...lives."
Angel became suddenly very interested in Buffy’s bare shoulder, exposed when her jacket slipped down her arm. He lowered his mouth to it and nuzzled. "How should I know where it lives? We’ll do it tomorrow. Right now we should...talk. About us. There was this interesting development involving the whole curse thing..."
Buffy let her head loll back slightly as gooseflesh rose on her arms from Angel’s cool mouth. "Oh, we’ll talk," she murmured. "But right now...stop that," she laughed, as his lips trailed from her shoulder to her pulsing jugular and lingered. Buffy reluctantly pulled away from him and stood.
Angel looked up at her, bereft. "Come back," he begged, lifting a hand.
"I say that every night," Buffy said softly.
It worked. Angel dropped his arm and sighed deeply. "All right, talk demon."
"Well...it takes the form of a human."
"Go on. Lots of demons do."
"It’s female."
"Fine, female. Got it. Someone I know?"
"She’s a cop." After delivering this bit of information, Buffy watched Angel’s facial expression carefully.
"A girl police officer...? Hey!" he said suddenly, snapping his fingers. "I met one a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, really?" Buffy asked curiously. "What did you think of her?"
"What did I think of her? What do you mean?" He was genuinely puzzled, and Buffy felt a glimmer of satisfaction.
"I mean," and here she turned and began to walk slowly around the apartment, "did you think she was attractive? Did you like her, as a person?"
"Attractive?" Angel asked slowly. "Buffy, you can’t be serious."
Buffy paused, and looked over her shoulder at him. "That pretty, huh?" she asked sadly.
Angel laughed out loud, something that was entirely rare. "Pretty? For chrissakes, Buffy, nothing is pretty next to you. She pales in comparison, everyone does." He rose and came to stand behind her, putting his hands at her small waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. "Is that relevant to this great demon hunt?"
"Oh, yes," she said, nodding vigorously, making Angel lift his chin from her head. He spun her around to face him.
"Well then," he said, "I’ll find her for you. Then you can do what you do best."
"Perfect," Buffy said thoughtfully. "That would be perfect."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I met her here," Angel pointed. Buffy looked up at the large building, hearing the faint sounds of pulsing music.
"Not your kind of place," she observed.
He chuckled. "Definitely not. I prefer a different type of meat market."
Buffy’s eyes widened. "Did you just make a joke?"
Angel shrugged. "I guess I did. Must be Cordelia’s influence. Gotta be on your toes around that girl."
Buffy looked back at the club. "She’ll be in there?"
"Oh, I’m almost sure of it. She’s here all the time. I think maybe she’s got a problem with alcohol, they know her usual drink and everything." He shook his head and made a sound of distaste.
"Ok, then I guess I’m off to do what I do best, as you put it." She made a move to go, but Angel put a hand on her arm.
"Is this going to be dangerous?"
Buffy pondered. "Mmmm....yes, for someone."
"Be careful," he whispered. "I want you to come back home to me tonight."
Buffy’s heart warmed at his use of the word ‘home’. "I will," she promised earnestly. "Have faith."
"I do," he replied, and then he was gone.
Buffy turned back to the sound of the pulsing music and smiled wryly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He was awake when she crept in, trying to be quiet. Putting down his book, he rose gracefully from the bed and went to her. "You’re all right?"
She straightened, and Angel made a sound of alarm when he saw her shirt.
"Buffy! There’s blood!"
"No, no," she quieted him. "Not mine."
He cocked his head, and his nostrils flared slightly. "It smells human. And there’s an awful lot of it."
"Uh, yeah. Funny thing, about the blood. She bled everywhere, all over me. I thought it was human at first too, but then when I opened her chest to tear out her still-beating heart, she had like, way too many ribs. Uh huh, yeah. Too many ribs to be human. Definitely demonsville."
"Huh. Very weird. I always think I’ve seen it all, then something crawls out of the Hellmouth to surprise me." Angel scratched his head.
Buffy giggled in relief. "Yeah, me too. I always get surprised."
"Now, about that talk," Angel said seriously.
"Nothing to talk about."
"There isn’t?"
"No. You’re coming home, or I’m coming here. That’s all she wrote." Buffy nodded with finality, hoping against hope that Angel would agree.
Angel felt around in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled white business card. "Well, Cordelia did just go through all the trouble of making these," he said, showing her the card.
"I’ll come here," she shrugged. "UC Sunnydale is only twenty minute’s drive.
Willow can shack up with Oz, she’ll thank me for it."
Surprising them both, Angel suddenly picked Buffy up at the waist and hugged her tightly, burying his face in between her breasts. "I was stupid," he said, muffled by her shirt.
"I fixed it," Buffy told him, ruffling his hair.
"Come to bed?"
"Are we sleeping?"
"Hell, no."
The End