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Starting
Over, Part 4 *** Buffy’s body was still humming from her kiss with Angel when the Chinese food arrived a half an hour later. The conversation was stilted and both of them were uncomfortably trying to figure out how to deal with each other. She watched him closely as he paid for the food and thanked the delivery person. He seemed so calm about everything, dealing with things as they came. She hadn’t expected him to plant one of the most arousing kisses she had ever had on her. She hadn’t thought it would feel so right to be beneath him on the couch, feeling his weight between her thighs. “I can’t be in a relationship with you,” she said quietly as he settled on the couch next to her and started pulling the cartons of food out of the bag. “If I gave you another impression, I’m sorry.” “I don’t understand,” Angel said, honestly, stopping what he was doing to face her. “I have HIV, Angel,” she said clearly, trying to keep her voice from quavering. He stared at her so intently that she had to try to keep herself from squirming. “I know you probably look at me and see someone who’s healthy but I’m not. I don’t intend to have a relationship with anyone.” “I realized I rushed you and I apologize,” Angel said sincerely. “It’s not about me being ready,” Buffy said, shaking her head sadly. He was perfect in every way. She thought about him all day long, looked forward to his visits and whenever she had a question, she thought about asking him what he thought first. She wanted to be with him so badly it hurt inside, but she knew that it wasn’t possible. Hurting someone else, making anyone go through an illness like that was unthinkable. “I’m not going to be in a relationship again,” she clarified. “Not with you. Not with anyone else.” “I’m not afraid of your illness, Buffy,” Angel said gently. “I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through, but I want to be there for you. I’m asking you to let me be a part of your life.” “We can be friends.” Angel’s jaw tightened. “I’ll wait,” he said, returning to dole out the food. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.” “Dammit, Angel,” she said, balling her fist. “You don’t understand. There’s no point in waiting. Don’t you understand that?” “No, you don’t understand,” Angel shot back. “If I have to settle for your friendship, I will, but that’s not what I want, that’s not all I want.” “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry but I can’t.” *** When Angel got home that evening, Whistler was waiting for him, lounging on the couch with a drink, flipping through a sketchbook. He looked up as Angel entered and tossed the book on the coffee table. He propped his feet up and saluted his friend before taking a long drink. “Parker Abrams,” Whistler said. “He’s a junior at UCLA and apparently a fuck-a-holic who likes to take advantage of freshman girls. The kid’s HIV positive and apparently still had a problem keeping his dick in his pants, until the rumor got around campus. “Someone at the school newspaper decided to start an AIDS campaign when your friend Buffy practically got blackballed. A testing frenzy started and eight, count them, eight girls anonymously reported to the paper that they got the disease from Parker. The paper printed it and got in trouble for announcing the jerk’s name. He’s staying at the Sunnydale Inn at the edge of town. I got a few guys to come down and help tail him.” “Alright,” Angel nodded. “Great work. Keep someone on him all the time while he’s here. Tell them that no one touches him and no one approaches Buffy. Give them all my cell phone number. If he gets too close or does anything noteworthy, I want to know about it.” “Sure,” Whistler said, nodding. “Why don’t you refill my drink…and get yourself one while you’re at it?” “Is it that obvious?” Angel growled, slumping on the couch next to his friend. “You’re putting off some powerful vibes here, Angel,” Whistler said, standing to get himself a refill and a new glass for Angel. “It’s saying Hopelessly in Love Guy. It’s not good.” “She’s the one,” Angel answered, leaning his head back on the couch. “I’ve found the girl of my dreams.” “And she’s dying,” Whistler added, handing him his drink. “Yeah,” Angel answered. He knocked back the whiskey and slammed the glass on the coffee table. “I want that little piece of shit to die first.” “I can put a hit on the Abrams kid tonight,” Whistler answered, not at all shocked. He shot a sidelong glance at his old friend in question. “All I need is an okay from you and he’s a grease spot.” “I want to do it myself,” Angel snarled, snatching up the bottle Whistler had set on the table and refilling his glass. “I want to break every bone in his useless body until he begs me to kill him. I want his dying breath to be mine.” “Saddle up then,” Whistler smirked. “We still got plenty of night left to take care of him.” “Fuck,” Angel groaned. “Killing the kid won’t make her better,” Whistler said after a long moment of silence. “And your little blonde probably wouldn’t approve.” “I know,” Angel growled out. “You tell your guys, if he so much as looks at her too long, I want to know about it.” *** The following morning, Buffy listened again as Angel and Willow had coffee together. She curled up in bed and squeezed her eyes closed more tightly. Tears she was trying to hold in began falling unbidden down her cheeks. It was all so unfair. She hated Parker and she hated whatever powers that controlled her fate and she hated herself most of all for being so stupid, for risking her health and her future over one stupid guy that she didn’t even love. Angel was perfect. He was everything she had ever wanted and he stood there with open arms, accepting everything she was and all of her limitations and she still couldn’t have him. When he left the night before, he was annoyed – at least the Angel version of annoyed which was just a more tensed sort of quiet. He didn’t push her at all, but let her shoo him out way too early so that she could go to bed feeling sorry for herself. Sobs came harder as she thought about the kiss, the perfect kiss that burned through her body and left her wanting the more she could never have. It was heartbreaking and horrible. Once again she found herself wondering why she was bothering living this wasted life. What was she doing? What was she good for? It seemed these days the only thing she did – and not too well – was be a friend to Willow, who wanted so much for her to be happy and make something from the shambles of her life. Buffy just wasn’t sure if she could do it. Not even for Willow. “Buffy.” She turned over and looked to see Angel standing in the doorway, looking concerned and incredibly sexy in his t-shirt and black sweat pants. She turned back over and looked at the wall, heaving great, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm down. “We…we heard you crying downstairs,” he said, entering her room without invitation. He looked so worried, so wonderfully caring that it only made it worse. Why couldn’t he just be an asshole like the rest of them? “I’m fine,” she sniffled. Not only was she in bed, no doubt looking ravishing with knots the size of cats on her head, but she was crying too. When she saw Willow later, she was going to kill her for letting him come upstairs. “Buffy,” he said with that tone that he seemed to only use for her name. He had a breathless, yearning way of saying it that made her want to give in just to hear him say it again. He perched on the edge of her bed and looked down at her. “Please just go away. Please,” she begged. She buried her face in the pillows and cried harder despite her attempts to stop. With him there looking at her like that, it was all she could do not to fall completely apart. Angel stood and swept the sheets and blankets aside. She was wearing pale blue silk pajamas that draped over her curves in the most seductive way. He might have taken more time to notice if her body hadn’t been convulsing with her tears. Sighing, he lifted her into his arms and settled her on his lap. “Shhh,” he whispered and rocked her gently as she cried. Much to his surprise, she curled into him and let him hold her. *** Buffy woke up with a start and found herself lying in her bed *on top* of Angel. She was curled against him, her limbs intertwined with his and it felt so right she immediately tried to escape. The feeling of ultimate safety and *rightness* was too much. This was something she couldn’t have. “It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing a kiss over the top of her head. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked, embarrassed by the croaking of her voice after crying so hard. “About an hour,” he said, yawning. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” Buffy said, moving off of him and sitting up in bed. She looked at him, lying comfortably in her bed, looking completely calm and relaxed. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.” “I didn’t get my daily dose of coffee this morning,” he said, sitting up. “Want to drink a cup with me?” “Angel, I know what you must be thinking, but-“ “It’s just a beverage,” Angel interrupted. “You, me, a caffeinated drink. It’ll get me out of your bed.” “Okay,” she said, shakily. Buffy trudged to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and hair before heading back downstairs. Angel was in the kitchen leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest, staring off into space as the coffee brewed behind him. “I love the smell of coffee brewing,” Buffy said, sinking into a chair and bringing him out of his thoughts. “Yeah,” Angel said, smiling lightly. “Me too.” “I had unprotected sex once over a year ago,” Buffy said as sipped her coffee a few minutes later and tried not to make eye contact as much as possible. “It was a one night stand. I was stupid. I thought he cared about me and I was wrong.” “It’s not stupid to expect someone to care about you,” Angel broke in. He sat across from her and bore into her with those deep brown eyes. That was one of the things she had noticed first about him. He always took in the world with open eyes. It didn’t seem like anything she said would make him look away. “It didn’t take me long to realize that he wasn’t going to return any of my calls. I even approached him on the quad later that week and he was already with another girl. It wasn’t until a few months later when I was dating another guy, Riley, that he insisted we get tested for STDs before we have sex. He got a clean bill of health and I found out I’m HIV positive. Riley was out the door. “The guy last week was one night stand that infected me,” Buffy added. “Parker Abrams. He blames me for giving it to him, even though he knows I was a virgin.” “He’s in denial,” Angel said, taking another sip. “It’d be natural for anyone, although he in his case, I think he’s just an asshole.” “No doubt,” Buffy said, laughing despite herself. Angel looked at her for a moment and then took a deep breath. “What are your doctors saying?” “I haven’t gotten sick at all yet, but I’m on three different medications to help fight it. My CD4 cell count - they’re the ones in your immune system that fight off infection – is still pretty high, but it’s only a matter of time.” “How much time?” Angel asked. His voice was low, almost pained and Buffy looked up at him. She knew that look. It was the same one that Willow had when they talked about it. She was stunned to see that amount of pain and fear on his face. “Really, there’s no telling. People have lived twenty years and more with HIV, but everyone gets it eventually, Angel. There’s no cure for it. No way around it. It’s really highly contagious but really only through sexual contact and blood. Day to day contact is fine as long as I’m careful. That thing with the glass won’t happen again. Will’s safe to live with me.” “I didn’t question that,” Angel said seriously. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve thought a lot about what happened between us last night.” “Me too,” Buffy admitted, her voice nearly above a whisper. She took a sip of her coffee and forced herself to meet his gaze. “The way you kissed me, the way you said you wanted me – I want to be with you, Buffy and despite what you’re saying, I think you want to be with me too.” “I’m sick, Angel,” she said, lower lip trembling again. “You’re not sick, Buffy. Not yet. And even if you were, I wouldn’t walk away,” Angel said, keeping his voice clear and his eyes on her face. “I’m being realistic here. I’ve thought a lot about it. I spent half the night on the internet researching HIV and AIDS. I know you might get sick someday and we’ll deal with it when it happens, but…Buffy, I want to be with you. I don’t care about what *might* happen. I want to be in your life, here, now. “That night at your house, when you told me about Darla and Holz, I wasn’t expecting you to tell me that. I completely wigged. It wasn’t until days later that I realized that I treated you the same way Riley treated me. I just ran out on you. I’m really sorry for that. I didn’t know how to deal with it and I just bailed,” Buffy said regretfully. “But I’ve thought a lot about what happened last night too and I need you to know that you’re a wonderful person. I know you’re not who you were and if things were different, then I would love to be a part of your life, but I can’t. I want you to know that you don’t have to settle for me because you don’t think you deserve better.” “Loving you isn’t a way to punish myself, Buffy,” Angel said, shaking his head. “I know I don’t deserve you. There is nothing better.” “Loving me?” Buffy squeaked out looking into deep brown eyes that were completely sincere. “Yeah,” he answered. She gaped at him and couldn’t move as he stood and made his way around the table. He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. Cupping her cheek, he nipped at her lips gently, placing his hand at the small of her back and pressing her closer. “You’re really stupid,” she said, her eyes filling with tears and wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s often been said,” he agreed with a smile as he deepened the kiss and threaded his fingers through her hair. *** Home - Navigation - Affiliates - Random - Fanfiction - Links - Updates - About Tango |