Just Across the Hall, part 2

by indie & tango

EMAIL: indiefic@hotmail.com & tangofic@hotmail.com
FEEDBACK: please


Buffy unlocked the door when he knocked, pulling it open as she wandered back to the couch with her nose buried in Home Improvement for Dummies. Angel entered, pizza box in hand, looking from her to the various hardware scattered over her floor. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she looked up at him. “Homework,” she said with a frown.

“You’re going to school to become a plumber?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I got a job on one of those home improvement how-to shows,” she said. “I have to replace a faucet tomorrow and I’m trying to figure out how to do it.”

“A new job,” he said brightly. He set down the pizza on the table and lowered himself onto the couch next to her. He took the book gently out of her hands and laid it on a piece of the table that wasn’t covered in her “homework.”

“Yeah,” she answered, “thanks again for the whole agent hook up thing.”

He smiled genuinely. “No problem. I’m glad to help out.” He couldn’t possibly convey how glad he was to help out in this situation. He’d do anything to get Buffy out of the business and after living in the same building with her over the last couple of years, he had never seen her happier. Sure, she was worried about her job, but it was a different, healthier sort of stress.

Buffy smiled back at him. “Just so you know,” she said, “your sister is an overprotective bitch. I’m still really grateful to her.”

Angel let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Cordy can be a little prickly at first.”

Buffy laughed sarcastically in return, “Prickly is really an understatement.”

“Oh, I figured you could handle her,” he said, flipping open the pizza box to peer in at the neglected treat. “She’s all bark, no bite.”

“Still, a warning would have been nice,” Buffy huffed.

“So tell me more about this job,” he said.

With a huge grin, Buffy told him everything from the original reading, to the call back, to the little dressing room she used. Angel listened to everything with a smile and when she finished he asked, “So is this your only job now?”

Buffy looked at him coyly. “Detective Angelus, are you asking if I still work nights?”

He gave her a look full of carnal interest. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr, “that’s what I mean.”

She swallowed thickly, finding herself blushing. “I’m strictly an actress now.”

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Good,” he said with a self-satisfied smile, “then you’re free to go out with me on Saturday night. Now let’s get this faucet figured out.”


Angel walked Buffy to her door and she seriously wondered whether he was going to kiss her or not. He had been a complete gentleman the entire night and the closest he came to putting a move on her was holding her hand or offering his elbow. It was like Ward Cleaver on a date with a hooker, which is why she was stunned when he threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her. The kiss was long and slow - something entirely too rare for a girl like her. He nipped at her lips until she opened for him and took his time pressing their bodies together as if they had until the end of time. He held her gently in his arms and she melted into him. When he snaked his tongue into her mouth and tasted her, exploring, she moaned.

“Come in,” she whispered against his lips. She tucked a finger into his belt to hold him there while she dug in her purse for her keys and then fumbled to get them into the lock with an urgency she couldn’t remember feeling before. She just knew she had to get him inside before he remembered he was a respectable guy and she, a whore turned actress.

“There’ll be other nights,” he said softly. Gathering every bit of strength, he stepped away from her, preparing to cross the hall and take the coldest shower in the history of ever. He was surprised when her voice, flat and emotionless, followed his retreat, “If you’re all weirded out about what I used to do, then why did you ask me out to begin with?”

“You think that’s what’s going on?” he asked, turning to face her again and raising an eyebrow.

“That’s what it looks like,” she answered.

“Well, that’s not what’s happening,” he answered harshly, crossing the hall once more. “Just because you used to…uh…you used to frequently have sex does not mean I should expect you to sleep with me. I wouldn’t expect more from you than I would from-“

“I see,” she interrupted, “you’re not really attracted to me, are you? This is just a pity date for the poor little ex-pmmm-“

Angel growled in frustration against her mouth as he pressed her against the door and pulled her legs around his hips. She gasped as he pulled her against him, rubbing his erect cock against the sopping piece of silk and lace between her thighs. Since her keys were balled in her hand, nearly crushing into the back of his head from when she couldn’t get them into the lock, he hoisted her up his body enough to dig in his pocket for his keys. Their lips never left each other’s as he opened the door, trying not to think about how strong the leg muscles wrapped around him were.

They managed to make it to his bedroom, barely, and immediately began pulling at their clothes, stripping each other like lust struck fools. They struggled to keep their hands and lips on each other while they tore at the clothes that hid heated flesh. Buffy’s feet were off the ground as Angel’s lips first covered her achingly erect nipple. He walked her to the bed and placed her on it, while he licked and suckled.

“Angel,” she groaned, so slippery wet and empty she thought she was going to die. She needed friction. She needed him inside her and she was prepared to beg for it, but when he slid down her body and buried his face between her golden thighs, her hips came off the bed and every thought in her head disappeared.

Buffy pulled a pillow over her face and screamed into it as her heels bit into Angel’s muscled back and one of her hands fisted in his hair. She arched her hips against his mouth, her eyes rolling back in her head. It was nearly a minute before she was once again in full possession of her faculties. Angel kissed his way up her naked body, stopping to suckle at her breasts before kissing her deeply. Buffy twined her arms around his neck as she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips.

He paused, propping himself up on one elbow while he reached for the night stand and quickly rolled on a condom. He slid inside her with little preamble and Buffy groaned at the sensation of his rigid sex stretching her. She whined his name, her fingernails biting into his back as he buried his face against her neck and began a pattern of hard, shallow thrusts. She came apart almost immediately, shaking in his embrace as he continued to stroke in and out of her welcoming body.

An hour later, they were dozing, their sweat slicked bodies twined together in his large bed and Buffy breathed a long, breathy sigh. Between the impressive nature of his physical dimensions and his obvious hunger for her, it was the most mind-blowing sex she'd ever had. Buffy couldn’t believe she had ever thought of Angel as even mildly boring. That man could fuck like a freight train. She had indeed had a lot of sex, but none of it compared to him.

She tried to roll over and his arm tightened around her hips. "I need to go to the bathroom," she whispered. With a discomfited grunt, he released her. His face was buried in the pillow when she returned, but one of his eyes popped open, watching her like a hawk as she crawled back under the covers. He pulled her close, sighing as her body melted back against his own.


" They're revamping the show," Buffy said, toying with the straw in her milkshake.

"How so?" Angel asked tightly. He was still on duty, taking a break to grab a bite with Buffy in a small diner. They had been dating for about six weeks. Six fabulous weeks. It wasn't always easy between his late nights and her early mornings, but they managed to make things work. They exchanged keys and if Buffy wasn't in his bed when Angel finally got home at night, he would simply let himself into her apartment. Of course, if they were doing something to the show, it might mean that Buffy was out of a job. Angel could accept her former profession only because it was former. If Buffy went back to her old ways, Angel knew he wouldn't be able to deal with it.

"It's not official yet," Buffy said with a huge grin, "but they're losing the ensemble. I'm going to have my own show!"

Angel's smile was absolutely genuine. "That's wonderful, Buffy," he said, vastly relieved. Without the ensemble, she would be making even more money, possibly enough to prevent herself from ever having to sell her body to make the rent again.

"Yeah," she said, "Spike told me this afternoon."

Angel's smile died. Spike was a producer on Buffy's show and Angel didn't trust him any farther than Buffy could throw him. Spike was bad news and he wanted Buffy. That much was obvious. “So he’s still with the show.”

Buffy nodded with a bright smile. She liked Spike a lot. He was fun and flirtatious, but she could handle him. Plus, she liked how Angel got all growly about the situation. “There’s a final meeting tomorrow afternoon. Spike has to take me up to see the network bigwigs. He says it’s just a formality and it’s all a done deal.”

“What time is the meeting?” Angel asked idly.

“Two, I think,” Buffy answered. “Why?”


“Oh, my,” Buffy panted, breathing harshly. “Oh Jesus! Ang-“

Angel clamped his hand over Buffy’s mouth. He slowed his thrusts, sealing his chest to her back. His lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Shhh,” he whispered. “You don’t want to get caught.”

Angel had shown up ostensibly for a quick visit over the lunch hour. Never mind that he’d only gotten off shift at eight that morning. It was definitely worth dragging himself out of bed to show up at Buffy’s tiny dressing room, push her face first against a wall and fuck her like there was no tomorrow.

Not that she minded. She arched back against him, encouraging him to get moving again and he could do nothing but comply. He reached up and pulled down the front of her blouse, freeing her nipples from their silk encasement. He loved the sound she made when he cupped them in his hands and twisted her nipples. The sound he treasured escaped her lips and he grinned as he pounded into her, not at all sorry to hear it, despite the fact he had hushed her moments before.

“Angeldon’tstop,” she panted, groaning even louder when he reached between her thighs and twisted her sensitive, swollen nub between his fingers. The movement was all it took and he pumped harder into her as she spasmed around his cock, her inner muscles clamping down. Seconds later, he spilled into her.

He slipped out of her and tucked himself back in his pants before pulling her into his arms and sitting back into her dressing room chair. She cuddled in his lap and grinned at him, not bothering to hide her amusement. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, “Something funny?”

“You’re jealous,” she answered in a singsong voice.

“No, I’m horny,” he bit out, scowling at the temerity of his girlfriend.

“Uh huh,” she said, nodding. “That’s why you came in here and fucked me into a wall on less than 4 hours of sleep. Whatever, Angel.”

“Certain parts of the male anatomy have minds of their own,” Angel said defensively, pulling her more closely against his chest.

“Yeah and certain male parts also have territory issues,” she shot back. “That’s so sweet.”

“It’s *not* sweet!” he growled. “There’s nothing sweet about it!”

“So you admit that you’re jealous,” Buffy quipped, smiling happily. She leaned in and kissed him deeply, letting the voracity of her kiss give him an inkling of how wonderful it was to be cared enough about by a guy that he would ever be jealous.

“Godammit,” he grumbled against her lips.

There was a very perfunctory knock on the door before Spike barged in. "Hey Buf-" He fell silent the second he saw them curled together in the chair. Angel's hand automatically went to her skirt, ensuring that it was covering all her intimate parts.

Buffy grinned unrepentantly, pressing a loud, smacking kiss against Angel's jaw before wiggling out of his embrace. Spike's expression was hard as he watched her settle her clothes and smooth down her hair. There was absolutely no way Spike didn't know exactly what had happened. Buffy didn't care and she wasn't in the least bit embarrassed. She'd had lots of mechanical, empty sex and yet she had learned to hold her head high and look at herself in the mirror. Something as sacred as sharing physical ecstasy with the man she loved most certainly wasn't going to make her cower in shame.

"You ready to go?" Spike asked tightly.

Buffy nodded cheerily. "I am," she chirped. Turning, she grabbed Angel's hand and urged him to stand. He did so, scowling madly at Spike. She pressed herself against his chest and grabbed his head between her hands, forcing him to look down so she could give him a long, lingering kiss.

He looked slightly mollified when she finally pulled back. "I'll see you this evening," she said in the silky, sultry voice, reserved only for him.

He licked his lips, unable to do anything more than nod. He looked at Spike with a smirk before preceding them out the door.


Buffy giggled as Angel's hand clamped around her ankle, easily pulling her and the comforter back to his side of the bed. She kicked playfully at him. "I just want to go get the Champaign," she said in a petulant voice.

"I don't need any damn fizzy wine," he growled, pulling her closer, reaching for the clasp on her skirt.

Buffy sighed with mock exasperation, lying still so he could undress her. "But we need to celebrate," she pointed out.

"Oh, we're going to celebrate," he assured her. He carefully pulled her skirt over her hips and licked his lips unconsciously. Every time he saw her golden skin revealed he felt an overflowing of lust along with a measure of masculine pride. He still couldn’t believe she was his and his alone. He nibbled on her hipbone as she wiggled out of the skirt, giggling at the growl he muffled against her flesh.

“I still want Champaign,” she said huskily as he kissed his way up her inner thigh. She rubbed her leg seductively over his beautifully muscled back. “Later,” he answered. He moved slowly toward the apex of her thighs, taking his time at exploring her. After their rampant fuck in her dressing room earlier that day, he felt he should make this time the polar opposite of that jealous tumble.

“Much later,” Angel groaned as his cell phone rang. He stalked across the room and fumbled through his discarded jacket to answer it. Snarling, he flipped it open. “Angelus…Now? Fuck. Alright, I’m on my way.”

“Dammit,” he said, tossing his phone on his jacket. He turned to face Buffy whose lower lip was already stuck out petulantly. “Sorry baby,” he whispered, kissing her lightly. He moaned in frustration when she pulled him down on top of her half naked body and wrapped her legs tightly around him, deepening the kiss.

“Don’t go,” she said. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “We’re celebrating.”

“I love you. I’ll be back later and we’ll celebrate. Promise.” Angel pushed himself up, turned from her and went for his jacket, but stiffened in mid-reach as he realized what he just said. He slowly turned around and faced her. Instead of mortification or shock, her face shown with pure love and adoration. Tears glittered in her eyes as she slid off the bed and stood up.

“I love you too,” she whispered quietly. She crossed the room quickly, wrapped her arms around him and shrieked when he picked her off the floor, kissing her.


After waiting the better part of three hours for Angel to come home from his bust or whatever the hell detectives did in the middle of the night, she decided to go home, shower and wait for him in her own bed. She stuffed her panties in her purse, along with the nylons she had on earlier and carried her shoes in her hand. She locked his door carefully and then turned around towards her own, digging in her bag for the keys she hadn’t bothered to get out ahead of time.

“Well, well,” a voice said from down the hall. Buffy looked up and recognized the John she had turned away all those months ago before she got her job and started seeing Angel. Fear trickled along her spine and she edged closer to her apartment door. The John kept walking toward her in an almost casual stroll. “Now I know why the pig was so anxious to help you out before. Let me guess? You let him bend you over the patrol car, maybe suck him off every couple of days and he turns the other way, huh?”

“L-look, all I have to do is call him,” Buffy said, digging more frantically for her keys. “He’ll come out-”

“Nice try, whore,” he sneered. “I watched him leave. Been waiting for you. Too bad he’s a cop. Has to be away during the night, leaving you here all alone.”


“Fuck,” Angel muttered under his breath as he tried to scrape his shoes clean. It was no use. He was going to have to burn everything he was wearing. Thank gods he’d thought to leave his duster in the car.

The crime scene had been in the middle of a landfill. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing he had ever had the displeasure of experiencing, and working as a detective for the last four years, that was saying something. But even the foul setting wasn’t enough to overshadow the horror of the crime scene itself. They’d found another prostitute cut into pieces. They still hadn’t found all of her yet. Damn, she was just a kid, sixteen, maybe seventeen.

Angel knew he should feel guilty, but he didn’t. When he looked at that poor little girl’s violated body, all he could think was how grateful he was that Buffy was out of the business, that she was home safe in his bed where she belonged.

“Uh, Angelus?”

Angel turned around and looked at his partner. She was holding her cell phone, pressed against her chest. Her face was pale. “What, Kate?”

“It’s just ...” she grimaced. “Dammit. Dispatch just called. Some girl got beat up really bad.”

Angel shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because they found her collapsed against the door to your apartment. Her I.D. said Buffy Summers.”


When they finally allowed Angel to go into Buffy’s room, he was thankful he was a cop. Of all the conveniences he had because of his job, this was the moment when it meant the most. He was certain he would still be pacing the shiny floors in the hallway if he weren’t a police detective.

He entered the room quickly but ground to a halt when he saw her in the hospital bed. He struggled with his emotions as he looked over her. Her face was covered in bruises and was swollen from the beating she took. Her left eye looked as if she wasn’t going to be able to open it when she woke and a line of stitches trailed along the side of her throat. He knew she was very lucky to have lived through such a beating and he knew that someone else was going to get a similar beating in the near future.

Angel clenched his jaw and finished walking across the room. Lowering himself into the chair by the bed, he took her hand in his. Her right wrist was broken in several places and her knuckles were scraped and bruised. Defensive wounds, he thought, kissing each place on her delicate hand. She wasn’t just beaten down. She had tried to defend herself.

It was hours before she woke and when she finally did, the moment her gaze met his, her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled pathetically. “I ruined everything.”

“This isn’t your fault, Buffy,” Angel said, trembling with rage for the creature who had done this to her.

She sobbed, but readily accepted his affections, kissing him back with bruised lips and curling her swollen hand into his for comfort.


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