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Best Souvenir
A/N: I can't even begin to express how much ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a2zmom influenced this chapter. She guided me in turning it from something I hated into something that's bearable. Many of the best lines are flat out hers. I can't begin to express how grateful I am or how wonderful it is to work with someone who understands these characters like she does.
Chapter 8
“Guten Tag,” he replied to someone on the other end, and then proceeded to fire off a rapid stream of German.
Buffy’s eyes widened. How come the smelly bum she had found on the side of the road knew German? She’d thought he was nothing but a fledgling with hygiene issues and a chip, and the plan had originally been to beat him until he helped her find out about Angelus so she could stake him. All of the sudden, he was Angelus, and he wasn’t smelly, and she wasn’t staking him. Now he was helping her voluntarily, saying he had a Swiss bank account, and speaking perfect German. The language sounded violent, guttural, and somehow sexy coming from his throat.
An alarm bell went off in Buffy’s head. “Hey.” Angel went on talking. “Hey!” she snapped, more loudly. “Angel. In English. You know, Ingles?”
This time, Angel moved the phone away from his mouth when he spoke to her. “Buffy, he’s Swiss. Was?” he murmured, bringing the phone up again. “Nein. ”
“I don’t care what kind of cheese he is,” Buffy said flatly, her tone brooking no protest. “If you’re making plans to kill me or ambush me, I want you to do it in English so I can stake you before they get here. Got it?”
Angel looked at her for a moment, then briefly nodded his assent. “Entschuldigen Sie bitte,” he said into the phone. “I want to conduct this transaction in English. Yes, you understand.”
The alarm bells in Buffy’s head increased in volume tenfold. He said “you understand” forcefully, as if he didn’t expect the person on the other end to disobey, as if he was someone used to getting what he wanted. Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she examined his expression—not hesitant, not petulant, not frustrated. He was rattling off numbers and dates into the phone, his voice was smooth, confident, condescending, even. He looked firm, intelligent, in control. He was no longer slouching, and Buffy noticed for the first time just how broad his shoulders were, how powerful. His hands were no longer just big and sexy, either; they looked strong, capable. They were hands that could kill a man with little or no effort.
She’d given him her phone with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. An impotent, homeless vampire with a hang up on fashion designers was going to get her a tub with jets? At the time, it had been funny. Now, it was no laughing matter. He could be speaking in code, for all she knew, hiring vampire henchmen to gang up on her after all.
She was of half a mind to jump up and grab the cell from his disgustingly white hand. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was a bum and she was the Slayer. She was in control; she called the shots; vampires were beneath her and this one shouldn’t be different than any other.
She heard Angel’s voice rise. “No,” he said, his tone hard and distinct. “No,” he repeated forcefully into the phone, after he had waited a moment. “Not likely. I won’t be—” He stood up, pacing back and forth across the room, ignoring where Buffy sat on the bed. When he spoke, his voice was impatient. “Yes, but you can’t—” A pause. Angel’s jaw was set tightly, his eyes dark and impenetrable. “Yes. Yes, I see.” He paused, and she could see fury blaze briefly in his eyes. “No. I will get back to you.” He took the phone away from his face and stared at it for a moment, his hand convulsively clenching around it. “I want to hang up on them,” he growled lowly, thrusting the phone at her. “How do I do it?”
Buffy’s lips twitched. She took the phone and looked at it, as if studying it. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “you press ‘end.’”
He scowled and grabbed the phone back. After a moment, he pressed a button, then tossed the phone on the bed in disgust. He stalked over to the chair and flung himself into it, looking frustrated and intensely unhappy.
Buffy suddenly felt much better. He may be able to conjure up that commanding, no-nonsense aura, but that didn’t mean anyone was going to listen to him. He couldn’t even hang up a cell phone.
Still, a part of her was annoyed—at herself, for not taking into account when she gave him free reign of her cell that this vampire was more than he seemed, and at him, for . . . for speaking German so well. She still needed to be careful, to find out what exactly was up with this guy. “So,” she said, her voice purposely very even, “how did it go?”
“They wouldn’t give me my money.”
“Why not?”
He sighed, some of the tension leaving him as he waved a hand in the vague direction of the phone. “It wasn’t like I remembered. They’ve upped security. I haven’t accessed the account in a long time and . . . they want to make sure I’m who I say I am.”
“Well, can’t you prove you’re you somehow?”
His eyes met hers briefly, then quickly, uncomfortably sidled away. “They wanted me to arrange a meeting. They happen to have an executive in Manhattan on business tonight. I think he just needs to see me to verify that I’m still. . . Angelus.”
Buffy pursed her lips and asked bluntly, “Are you still Angelus?”
Suddenly, he looked miserable. “I don’t have much of a choice about that.”
She shrugged. “So, tell them. Go see ‘em and make ‘em give you your money bags.” She tilted her head. “Does it come in bags? With dollar signs, like on Duck Tales.”
His eyes jerked back to hers, startled. Then he closed his mouth, swallowing. “Alright, Buffy,” he said softly, eyes steady on hers. “While I’m out, I’ll catch a show. Maybe if I get hungry afterwards,” he added, “I’ll grab a neck to eat.”
Buffy inhaled sharply. She wasn’t sure whether she’d really meant that he should meet with the bank alone, conveniently forgetting that he was a dangerous vampire she wanted to keep chained to her radiator, or whether she hadn’t even thought about it when she made the suggestion. Either way, she wasn’t being careful, and it ticked her off. “I’d go with you, of course,” she said irritably.
“No.”
“What?” she demanded, unsure whether she’d heard right.
“No, you couldn’t go with me.”
Buffy studied him for a moment. “See, usually a vampire tells me ‘no, don’t do that,’ when I’m about to put part of a picket fence through him. The funny part is I do it anyway. Because getting told what to do by blood breath? So not my thing.”
“It’s the bank,” Angel explained, standing up. He turned away, running an impatient hand through unkempt hair. “It’s evil.”
Buffy made a face. “What bank isn’t?”
Angel shook his head, swinging back to face her. “EEK is an arm of the demon world. It’s run by humans, but it has a demonic clientele, and its shareholders don't have any moral qualms. If the bank or the clients think their secrecy is threatened, they’ll take care of it the way demons do. If I came with the Slayer, they'd assume me and all of my connections were a liability. I wouldn't get the money, and we'd probably both be dead.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you were trying to get money out of a demonic bank which would come and kill me if they knew just who’s cell phone you were using?”
He looked mildly defensive. “I told you it was chartered by vampires.”
He was right; she should have known. In fact, she should just be assuming the worst when it came to Angel. After all, the Immortal was after him, and the Immortal had his finger in many evil, demonic pies. Which, come to think of it, might actually prove convenient in this instance. Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy tapped her fingers on her elbow. “An arm of the demon world?” she repeated slowly. Tilting her head, she asked, “Are we talking severed arm, or well-attached and functioning arm?”
“What?”
“I mean, is this bank of yours well connected? High profile? All that ‘know how to win friends and influence people’ mumbo-jumbo?”
“What are you saying?”
“We could use this,” she said, biting her lip. She glanced at him quickly and amended, “I could use this. Look, the Immortal and I have been playing Where’s Waldo for three weeks, and I’m just lucky I found you first. But this—conveniently evil, thank you—bank could send your name down the demon grapevine and bring the Immortal’s little pretties straight to you in a jiffy. Then I could figure out what the Immortal wants with you. And kill a lot of bad guys in the process.”
The idea was growing on her. Information with a side of carnage was always good. Besides, whenever the world was being threatened (which was, admittedly, always) it felt good to have a plan, even a hackneyed crazy one. In fact, hackneyed crazy ones were the best kind, because that kind was hers, and her plans worked. Most of the time. Buffy tapped her lip, brow furrowing. “The evil tellers don’t know I’m the Slayer. Can’t we just, you know, not tell them?”
Angel shook his head. “They'd know right away you’re human,” he pointed out.
“Thought you said it was run by humans?”
“For the most part. I’m not exactly sure how they work. But they would know.”
“And me being human and you being a vampire and us being together isn’t exactly kosher,” Buffy said thoughtfully. Impatiently, she waved a hand. “There has to be a way.”
Angel merely stared at her, his muscles tense, his features impassive. For a single, strange moment, she felt as though the air in the space between them was thinner somehow, and it was hard to breathe.
Resolutely, she began to pace, as if that could break the pull of his stare. Instead she could feel his eyes following her, and all she could think of was the feel of his gaze on her skin. She wondered whether he was doing it on purpose, distracting her from thinking of a solution simply by a look on his face. He could, she realized once again, have the capacity for a little bit of thrall.
Buffy stopped suddenly. An image of Xander sucking on spiders slipped through her mind. Riley confessing something, and being . . . ashamed. And . . . Giles? “Dracubabes,” Buffy announced happily.
“What?”
“Dracula’s skank trio. Think Christina Aguilera, multiplied by three and even sluttier. Anyway, they had a thing for my Watcher. I don’t think they wanted to turn him, more make him their boy toy. And that’s disturbing on about a million levels. Wouldn’t something like that work?”
“Lovers,” Angel concluded flatly. “You want us to pretend to be lovers.”
Buffy felt as though she’d landed on a solution of which he’d been perfectly well aware. He stood stock still, staring at her in the exact same way—as if willing her to think of a different answer. Buffy shifted her weight, feeling as if she’d somehow been left behind in this conversation and not liking the feeling. “You mean like—like,” she started. “Um. I could pretend to be your girlfriend.”
“Sort of.” His hand curled into a fist at his side. “No. Not . . . really,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You could pose as my . . . mate. Which,” he continued, as if grudging the explanation, “would excuse your . . . humanity.”
“Well?” Buffy put her hands on her hips, annoyed that she was still obviously missing something. “Girlfriend, mate, potato, pahtado. Sounds like semantics to me.”
“You’d be—” He quickly changed the direction of his sentence. “It’s more involved than . . . that.”
Buffy scowled. “You mean I’d be like your wife?”
His eyes widened momentarily, still fixed on the floor. “Vampires don’t . . .” His hand jerked in a small, awkward movement, the first uncontrolled move she’d seen him make. Then his eyes went dark again, impassive, and he was very, very still. “Matrimony is holy. This . . . wouldn’t be.”
Involuntarily, Buffy’s gaze darted toward the bed. Just as quickly as he had, she looked away. She swallowed. “You mean because there’s a lot of biting,” she announced abruptly, lifting her chin. “You’d be drinking my blood and stuff.”
“No.” Angel’s lips were a flat line, his eyes burning little holes into the floor. “No,” he said again, more softly.
“Well, it’s not like I’d ever let you bite me,” she said. She was nibbling on her lips, thinking. Abruptly, she nodded. “But this could work. I could be like . . . your own personal donor. This evil EEK ought to understand that. You know, one bank to another. Blood, blood money, it’s all the same, really.” She went over to the bed and picked up the phone. “Let’s call them and find out.”
Angel frowned at the phone, his eyes flicking from it to her and back again until they came to rest on her at last. “If EEK finds out who you really are, they’ll come for you. And they’re not people you want to upset.”
She was unconcerned. “I’ve upset worse. I upset a god. I upset the root of all evil. I upset a lady with a snake head that looked kinda like a penis, and found out Doublemeat is a vegetarian enterprise. And the fast food conglomerate? Now those are people you don’t want to upset. So you know what? I’m all set up for some upsetting.”
He shook his head, stepping forward. “We don’t even know how many of the Immortal’s lackeys are actually here in Manhattan.”
Buffy shrugged dismissively, resisting the urge to back up. “I’ve taken them on before.”
He stepped forward again, nodding, acknowledging the truth of her words. “But not en masse,” he added. He took another step forward, now so close it would be so easy to touch him. “And not while fighting EEK at the same time.”
“And yet, somehow, I’m not afraid.”
Brown eyes peered down at her, hot, intent, thoughtful. “Maybe you should be,” he said softly.
He was standing much, much too close. There were tingles all down her spine, and her palms were beginning to sweat. It wasn’t fair that he could do this to her. She reached out, grabbed his hand, jerked it up, and placed the phone into it. Then she closed his fingers over it in a fist, her other hand still in a hard grip on his wrist. “I’m tired, Angel,” she grit out. “I’m tired of the Immortal and I’m tired of New York and I’m tired of you. I just want to get rid of you so I can go home and have some peace and quiet. Now call your bank and tell them we’re coming, or I’ll be forced to do something even more drastic.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to disobey her. There was a flash of something across his face, something like longing, and then his eyes dropped to where her hands held his fist. His other hand covered hers, his fingers cool, and then he began to pry her fingers loose. Realizing that he couldn’t call anywhere if she was locking his hand over the phone that way, she let go. He didn’t look at her, and turned away. She saw him dial, and bring the phone up to his face. His back was like a wall.
Go to: Chapter Nine
a2zmom influenced this chapter. She guided me in turning it from something I hated into something that's bearable. Many of the best lines are flat out hers. I can't begin to express how grateful I am or how wonderful it is to work with someone who understands these characters like she does.Chapter 8
“Guten Tag,” he replied to someone on the other end, and then proceeded to fire off a rapid stream of German.
Buffy’s eyes widened. How come the smelly bum she had found on the side of the road knew German? She’d thought he was nothing but a fledgling with hygiene issues and a chip, and the plan had originally been to beat him until he helped her find out about Angelus so she could stake him. All of the sudden, he was Angelus, and he wasn’t smelly, and she wasn’t staking him. Now he was helping her voluntarily, saying he had a Swiss bank account, and speaking perfect German. The language sounded violent, guttural, and somehow sexy coming from his throat.
An alarm bell went off in Buffy’s head. “Hey.” Angel went on talking. “Hey!” she snapped, more loudly. “Angel. In English. You know, Ingles?”
This time, Angel moved the phone away from his mouth when he spoke to her. “Buffy, he’s Swiss. Was?” he murmured, bringing the phone up again. “Nein. ”
“I don’t care what kind of cheese he is,” Buffy said flatly, her tone brooking no protest. “If you’re making plans to kill me or ambush me, I want you to do it in English so I can stake you before they get here. Got it?”
Angel looked at her for a moment, then briefly nodded his assent. “Entschuldigen Sie bitte,” he said into the phone. “I want to conduct this transaction in English. Yes, you understand.”
The alarm bells in Buffy’s head increased in volume tenfold. He said “you understand” forcefully, as if he didn’t expect the person on the other end to disobey, as if he was someone used to getting what he wanted. Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she examined his expression—not hesitant, not petulant, not frustrated. He was rattling off numbers and dates into the phone, his voice was smooth, confident, condescending, even. He looked firm, intelligent, in control. He was no longer slouching, and Buffy noticed for the first time just how broad his shoulders were, how powerful. His hands were no longer just big and sexy, either; they looked strong, capable. They were hands that could kill a man with little or no effort.
She’d given him her phone with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. An impotent, homeless vampire with a hang up on fashion designers was going to get her a tub with jets? At the time, it had been funny. Now, it was no laughing matter. He could be speaking in code, for all she knew, hiring vampire henchmen to gang up on her after all.
She was of half a mind to jump up and grab the cell from his disgustingly white hand. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was a bum and she was the Slayer. She was in control; she called the shots; vampires were beneath her and this one shouldn’t be different than any other.
She heard Angel’s voice rise. “No,” he said, his tone hard and distinct. “No,” he repeated forcefully into the phone, after he had waited a moment. “Not likely. I won’t be—” He stood up, pacing back and forth across the room, ignoring where Buffy sat on the bed. When he spoke, his voice was impatient. “Yes, but you can’t—” A pause. Angel’s jaw was set tightly, his eyes dark and impenetrable. “Yes. Yes, I see.” He paused, and she could see fury blaze briefly in his eyes. “No. I will get back to you.” He took the phone away from his face and stared at it for a moment, his hand convulsively clenching around it. “I want to hang up on them,” he growled lowly, thrusting the phone at her. “How do I do it?”
Buffy’s lips twitched. She took the phone and looked at it, as if studying it. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “you press ‘end.’”
He scowled and grabbed the phone back. After a moment, he pressed a button, then tossed the phone on the bed in disgust. He stalked over to the chair and flung himself into it, looking frustrated and intensely unhappy.
Buffy suddenly felt much better. He may be able to conjure up that commanding, no-nonsense aura, but that didn’t mean anyone was going to listen to him. He couldn’t even hang up a cell phone.
Still, a part of her was annoyed—at herself, for not taking into account when she gave him free reign of her cell that this vampire was more than he seemed, and at him, for . . . for speaking German so well. She still needed to be careful, to find out what exactly was up with this guy. “So,” she said, her voice purposely very even, “how did it go?”
“They wouldn’t give me my money.”
“Why not?”
He sighed, some of the tension leaving him as he waved a hand in the vague direction of the phone. “It wasn’t like I remembered. They’ve upped security. I haven’t accessed the account in a long time and . . . they want to make sure I’m who I say I am.”
“Well, can’t you prove you’re you somehow?”
His eyes met hers briefly, then quickly, uncomfortably sidled away. “They wanted me to arrange a meeting. They happen to have an executive in Manhattan on business tonight. I think he just needs to see me to verify that I’m still. . . Angelus.”
Buffy pursed her lips and asked bluntly, “Are you still Angelus?”
Suddenly, he looked miserable. “I don’t have much of a choice about that.”
She shrugged. “So, tell them. Go see ‘em and make ‘em give you your money bags.” She tilted her head. “Does it come in bags? With dollar signs, like on Duck Tales.”
His eyes jerked back to hers, startled. Then he closed his mouth, swallowing. “Alright, Buffy,” he said softly, eyes steady on hers. “While I’m out, I’ll catch a show. Maybe if I get hungry afterwards,” he added, “I’ll grab a neck to eat.”
Buffy inhaled sharply. She wasn’t sure whether she’d really meant that he should meet with the bank alone, conveniently forgetting that he was a dangerous vampire she wanted to keep chained to her radiator, or whether she hadn’t even thought about it when she made the suggestion. Either way, she wasn’t being careful, and it ticked her off. “I’d go with you, of course,” she said irritably.
“No.”
“What?” she demanded, unsure whether she’d heard right.
“No, you couldn’t go with me.”
Buffy studied him for a moment. “See, usually a vampire tells me ‘no, don’t do that,’ when I’m about to put part of a picket fence through him. The funny part is I do it anyway. Because getting told what to do by blood breath? So not my thing.”
“It’s the bank,” Angel explained, standing up. He turned away, running an impatient hand through unkempt hair. “It’s evil.”
Buffy made a face. “What bank isn’t?”
Angel shook his head, swinging back to face her. “EEK is an arm of the demon world. It’s run by humans, but it has a demonic clientele, and its shareholders don't have any moral qualms. If the bank or the clients think their secrecy is threatened, they’ll take care of it the way demons do. If I came with the Slayer, they'd assume me and all of my connections were a liability. I wouldn't get the money, and we'd probably both be dead.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you were trying to get money out of a demonic bank which would come and kill me if they knew just who’s cell phone you were using?”
He looked mildly defensive. “I told you it was chartered by vampires.”
He was right; she should have known. In fact, she should just be assuming the worst when it came to Angel. After all, the Immortal was after him, and the Immortal had his finger in many evil, demonic pies. Which, come to think of it, might actually prove convenient in this instance. Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy tapped her fingers on her elbow. “An arm of the demon world?” she repeated slowly. Tilting her head, she asked, “Are we talking severed arm, or well-attached and functioning arm?”
“What?”
“I mean, is this bank of yours well connected? High profile? All that ‘know how to win friends and influence people’ mumbo-jumbo?”
“What are you saying?”
“We could use this,” she said, biting her lip. She glanced at him quickly and amended, “I could use this. Look, the Immortal and I have been playing Where’s Waldo for three weeks, and I’m just lucky I found you first. But this—conveniently evil, thank you—bank could send your name down the demon grapevine and bring the Immortal’s little pretties straight to you in a jiffy. Then I could figure out what the Immortal wants with you. And kill a lot of bad guys in the process.”
The idea was growing on her. Information with a side of carnage was always good. Besides, whenever the world was being threatened (which was, admittedly, always) it felt good to have a plan, even a hackneyed crazy one. In fact, hackneyed crazy ones were the best kind, because that kind was hers, and her plans worked. Most of the time. Buffy tapped her lip, brow furrowing. “The evil tellers don’t know I’m the Slayer. Can’t we just, you know, not tell them?”
Angel shook his head. “They'd know right away you’re human,” he pointed out.
“Thought you said it was run by humans?”
“For the most part. I’m not exactly sure how they work. But they would know.”
“And me being human and you being a vampire and us being together isn’t exactly kosher,” Buffy said thoughtfully. Impatiently, she waved a hand. “There has to be a way.”
Angel merely stared at her, his muscles tense, his features impassive. For a single, strange moment, she felt as though the air in the space between them was thinner somehow, and it was hard to breathe.
Resolutely, she began to pace, as if that could break the pull of his stare. Instead she could feel his eyes following her, and all she could think of was the feel of his gaze on her skin. She wondered whether he was doing it on purpose, distracting her from thinking of a solution simply by a look on his face. He could, she realized once again, have the capacity for a little bit of thrall.
Buffy stopped suddenly. An image of Xander sucking on spiders slipped through her mind. Riley confessing something, and being . . . ashamed. And . . . Giles? “Dracubabes,” Buffy announced happily.
“What?”
“Dracula’s skank trio. Think Christina Aguilera, multiplied by three and even sluttier. Anyway, they had a thing for my Watcher. I don’t think they wanted to turn him, more make him their boy toy. And that’s disturbing on about a million levels. Wouldn’t something like that work?”
“Lovers,” Angel concluded flatly. “You want us to pretend to be lovers.”
Buffy felt as though she’d landed on a solution of which he’d been perfectly well aware. He stood stock still, staring at her in the exact same way—as if willing her to think of a different answer. Buffy shifted her weight, feeling as if she’d somehow been left behind in this conversation and not liking the feeling. “You mean like—like,” she started. “Um. I could pretend to be your girlfriend.”
“Sort of.” His hand curled into a fist at his side. “No. Not . . . really,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You could pose as my . . . mate. Which,” he continued, as if grudging the explanation, “would excuse your . . . humanity.”
“Well?” Buffy put her hands on her hips, annoyed that she was still obviously missing something. “Girlfriend, mate, potato, pahtado. Sounds like semantics to me.”
“You’d be—” He quickly changed the direction of his sentence. “It’s more involved than . . . that.”
Buffy scowled. “You mean I’d be like your wife?”
His eyes widened momentarily, still fixed on the floor. “Vampires don’t . . .” His hand jerked in a small, awkward movement, the first uncontrolled move she’d seen him make. Then his eyes went dark again, impassive, and he was very, very still. “Matrimony is holy. This . . . wouldn’t be.”
Involuntarily, Buffy’s gaze darted toward the bed. Just as quickly as he had, she looked away. She swallowed. “You mean because there’s a lot of biting,” she announced abruptly, lifting her chin. “You’d be drinking my blood and stuff.”
“No.” Angel’s lips were a flat line, his eyes burning little holes into the floor. “No,” he said again, more softly.
“Well, it’s not like I’d ever let you bite me,” she said. She was nibbling on her lips, thinking. Abruptly, she nodded. “But this could work. I could be like . . . your own personal donor. This evil EEK ought to understand that. You know, one bank to another. Blood, blood money, it’s all the same, really.” She went over to the bed and picked up the phone. “Let’s call them and find out.”
Angel frowned at the phone, his eyes flicking from it to her and back again until they came to rest on her at last. “If EEK finds out who you really are, they’ll come for you. And they’re not people you want to upset.”
She was unconcerned. “I’ve upset worse. I upset a god. I upset the root of all evil. I upset a lady with a snake head that looked kinda like a penis, and found out Doublemeat is a vegetarian enterprise. And the fast food conglomerate? Now those are people you don’t want to upset. So you know what? I’m all set up for some upsetting.”
He shook his head, stepping forward. “We don’t even know how many of the Immortal’s lackeys are actually here in Manhattan.”
Buffy shrugged dismissively, resisting the urge to back up. “I’ve taken them on before.”
He stepped forward again, nodding, acknowledging the truth of her words. “But not en masse,” he added. He took another step forward, now so close it would be so easy to touch him. “And not while fighting EEK at the same time.”
“And yet, somehow, I’m not afraid.”
Brown eyes peered down at her, hot, intent, thoughtful. “Maybe you should be,” he said softly.
He was standing much, much too close. There were tingles all down her spine, and her palms were beginning to sweat. It wasn’t fair that he could do this to her. She reached out, grabbed his hand, jerked it up, and placed the phone into it. Then she closed his fingers over it in a fist, her other hand still in a hard grip on his wrist. “I’m tired, Angel,” she grit out. “I’m tired of the Immortal and I’m tired of New York and I’m tired of you. I just want to get rid of you so I can go home and have some peace and quiet. Now call your bank and tell them we’re coming, or I’ll be forced to do something even more drastic.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to disobey her. There was a flash of something across his face, something like longing, and then his eyes dropped to where her hands held his fist. His other hand covered hers, his fingers cool, and then he began to pry her fingers loose. Realizing that he couldn’t call anywhere if she was locking his hand over the phone that way, she let go. He didn’t look at her, and turned away. She saw him dial, and bring the phone up to his face. His back was like a wall.
Go to: Chapter Nine
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I want to read this *right* now- but....I will have to wait until tonight after dinner and dishes and laundry and grocery shopping and kid's baths and I make tea and...
well, you get the picture!
But I'll be back.
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“It’s the bank,” Angel explained, standing up. He turned away, running an impatient hand through unkempt hair. “It’s evil.”
Buffy made a face. “What bank isn’t?”
LOL!
She was unconcerned. “I’ve upset worse. I upset a god. I upset the root of all evil. I upset a lady with a snake head that looked kinda like a penis, and found out Doublemeat is a vegetarian enterprise. And the fast food conglomerate? Now those are people you don’t want to upset..."
Hee! Love this shout out.
“And yet, somehow, I’m not afraid.”
This reminds me of Wishverse Buffy again, like when she took on the Master and his court, seemingly unconcerned - almost reckless in her approach. Though I guess from her perspective now, her life is a crap shoot isn't it? She fights and dies, or she she doesn't in which case she gets to go home...until the next time. How very sad. Not much of a future to look forward to.
At the same time that she feels fearless about going against the Immortal's minions, she denies her feelings for Angel (or how hemakes her feel) because it frighten her. I think you showed both Buffy's fearlessness and fears in a very real and clever way.
Teeny tiny typo: “Nine. ” = "Nein."
This is a really wonderful story and I look forward to reading more very soon (I hope?).
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Well, a2zmom did say it was one of her fan fic pet peeves, but she also said it wouldn't make her hate a fic. I doubt the hated thing that used to be this chapter could've converted her, either, so no, no awe.
I have some issues with the word myself. I think it can be sexy; it definitely doesn't turn me off like it does some people. What I dislike is people using a non-canon animal impulse to replace a real "human" relationship. It's so often used as a cheap short-cut (and it is, in this fic).
A2zmom probably had enough on her hands fixing this chapter without having to deal with that, too ;o)
I'm glad you're liking the fic.
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Also a very cliche one. ;o) Thanks for your vote of confidence.
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Hope your day goes well!
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Nah, that's Buffy's POV. It made me giggle.
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I'm such a ditz. That's MY point of view! I really thought it was spelled like the English number. It's so sad, really, because I do know that German rule about whether the i or e is long when you say the word.
I changed it because I'm so embarrassed ;o)
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(And hee! Yay Duck Tales reference! :D Very cute.)
And I hate hassling people with WIPs to push out the next part, because I know writers have lives and you don't live to amuse me, so I refrain from asking but I just want to let you know that I'm pretty much always (patiently) wondering when the next part is coming out. I'm adoring this story so much. ;)
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Straight up
This reminds me of Wishverse Buffy again, like when she took on the Master and his court, seemingly unconcerned - almost reckless in her approach. Though I guess from her perspective now, her life is a crap shoot isn't it? She fights and dies, or she she doesn't in which case she gets to go home...until the next time. How very sad. Not much of a future to look forward to.
I do think post-Chosen Buffy, especially Angel-less post-Chosen Buffy, would be a little reckless, because yes, her life is a little bleak. But I also think she'd be arrogant, and she kinda has a right to be. She's not about to let some bum tell her what to do.
At the same time that she feels fearless about going against the Immortal's minions, she denies her feelings for Angel (or how hemakes her feel) because it frighten her. I think you showed both Buffy's fearlessness and fears in a very real and clever way.
Yay! I'm so glad you picked up on that dichotomy. I hate weak weepy Buffys, but I do think she's exceedingly vulnerable--so I tried to make her both vulnerable and very strong.
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Totally
And I really, really loved your Buffy voice in this chapter.
I'm glad. I get into a certain groove when I'm writing and start feeling confident about the characters' voices, and one of my biggest worries is that when I go back and edit a lot I'll lose that vibe. This chapter got turned around quite a bit so I' glad you thought I maintained the voice.
(And hee! Yay Duck Tales reference! :D Very cute.)
Always, when I think of lots of money, I think of those bags.
And I hate hassling people with WIPs to push out the next part,
You're a much nicer person than me. I'm really big on nagging. Anyway, I just sent a lot of chapters to my beta.
I'm glad you're enjoying this story!
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I heart Robin, don't you?
I hate weak weepy Buffys, but I do think she's exceedingly vulnerable--so I tried to make her both vulnerable and very strong.
Vulnerable is a very good word for her. She's got every right to feel she's the boss in this situation -that is Slayer to Vampire, but as a woman, she's obviously had a lot of questions, insecurities...vulnerablilities. She sees Angel for the first time as someone formidible beneath the first impression of "Bum" and he's keeping her on her toes.
one more...
His eyes widened momentarily, still fixed on the floor. “Vampires don’t . . .” His hand jerked in a small, awkward movement, the first uncontrolled move she’d seen him make. Then his eyes went dark again, impassive, and he was very, very still. “Matrimony is holy. This . . . wouldn’t be.”
Awww... Conflicted broody Angel... Also much expectation about the uh - mating - however it takes shape.
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Hallelujah! I can't tell you how eagerly I'm looking forward to reading them. And, based on your author's note about what a2zmom has been doing, I am formally retiring the can opener. For now. VEG.
There's nothing I can add to what's already been said. The current chapter moves us along nicely, is perfect in its depiction of the characters, still so much themselves despite the differing circumstances of this AR. You've got a great fic here, and I'm loving every chapter.
Diane
MleF
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Everyone said everything already, so will keep it short. *G*
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I just think this fic is *so* fabulous. It continues to be the best of so many things.
It's funny. I mean Buffy is just funny. And she should be; she's a no- nonsense girl and she's not taking any prisoners here. Some of the stuff that comes out of her mouth cracks me up. Plus she's feisty. She's tough and single-minded and has a job to do, which makes the war between who she is and how she feels that much more believable.
The tension between Buffy and Angel is just getting hotter and hotter. And now this suggestion of pretending to be 'mates'. (Whether the word irks you or not; for my part, I have no particular feeling about it.) Mwah!
And, considering the fact that they've been mostly stuck in a single room- the story is moving along really well...while still giving that feeling of claustrophic tension that two people who are so obviously hot for each other would feel.
And the best bit for me...just wonderful dark, compelling Angel. He's just great.
The whole things has been a blast to read.
I can't wait to go back and read it from start to finish.
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Immensely. I didn't know her at all when I first asked her for help and she instantly . . . helped!
She's got every right to feel she's the boss in this situation -that is Slayer to Vampire, but as a woman, she's obviously had a lot of questions, insecurities...vulnerablilities.
That's a great way to put it.
Also much expectation about the uh - mating - however it takes shape.
lol. Mating? Well, first Angel does the mating call. Then Buffy does the mating dance. Spoilers are on the nature channel, if you're interested. ;o) Anyway, I hope the fic doesn't disappoint.
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Glad to hear it. ;o)
I'm happy to hear you think the characters are still acting . . . in character. You have
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My first introduction to Buffy was her talking about her yam sham, which I still think is one of her funniest lines. She always struck me as a pretty amusing person.
The tension between Buffy and Angel is just getting hotter and hotter.
I'm glad you think so. I hadn't thought about how long it would take to get to, you know, some touchy-feely when I started writing this fic. I wanted to take the time to establish some real--not just superficial--attraction, but I didn't want it to be static, either.
The whole things has been a blast to read.
You don't know how much it tickles me to have you say that. Thanks so much.
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Hugs.
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Loving the sexual tension that increases with each chapter.
I also friended you. Hope you don't mind. *G*
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Let me just say ditto to what everyone else said.
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Course, it would be better if I checked stuff over before I posted it.
::slaps forehead::
I hadn't thought about how long it would take to get to, you know, some touchy-feely when I started writing this fic. I wanted to take the time to establish some real--not just superficial--attraction, but I didn't want it to be static, either
You know, when I first started with this whole fic thing as a writer...I seemed to rush for the sexual payoff...but as a reader I absolutely love a story that drags it out. It's like in real life, how you anticipate that first kiss with a new guy (not like I've had any first kisses with new guys in recent memory, lol)and the anticipation is just--everything. Indie did a wonderful job of it in her story "Domestication". It took *for-friggin-ever* before Angel and Buffy kissed and that kiss was scorching hot!
All that to say, keep on doin' what you're doin'. There is NOTHING static about this story.
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Yeah, it's really old hat by now, isn't it? I think I have a cheesy soft spot for it. I hope it doesn't disappoint ;o)
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Thanks, I'm so glad you feel that way! I have the same sort of feeling writing it. I mean, I know where I'm going with it and what's going to happen, but actually getting it written is a little different. And a lot of fun.
*hugs back*
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I love how you have a rather hardened Buffy who is somewhat reminiscent of the girl from The Wish
I think The Wish is my favorite episode, mostly because of what they did with Buffy. She's such a bright person in the earlier seasons, but she definitely has the capacity to become harder edged, especially after the events of S6 & 7. I'm so glad the characterization works for you.
I also friended you. Hope you don't mind.
Of course I don't. Thanks!
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ha, I didn't even notice. I was too busy drooling over your kind review ;o)
I seemed to rush for the sexual payoff
I know exactly what you mean, but I can't write that way even if I want to. I started writing another fic (which I'm not going to post here until I'm finished, so I'm not torturing anyone with a WIP ;o) in the middle of this one just to blow of some steam, as it were. It was going to be PWPish and smutty. 28 chapters, still no . . . payoff. Though I disturbed by the amount of smut that comes after that.
Indie did a wonderful job of it in her story "Domestication". It took *for-friggin-ever* before Angel and Buffy kissed and that kiss was scorching hot!
I agree. One of the best fictional kisses ever, imo. I love that story.
There is NOTHING static about this story.
Thank you.
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LOVES it!
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Damn you, you've spoiled my plot. Now I have to come up with a different way to end this fic.
I'm glad you're liking it. One thing I do get a very big kick out of is that there actually is a Bank EEK (but the EEK is an acronym for something in German. Though in this fic, I made the bank have a French name so it sounded more foreign. Anywho ;o)
As for the smut: if you're reading this for smut, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. There will be some, but this is a more plotty fic than smutty, and the smut that does happen won't be happening for quite some time. Sorry, but that was the way my fingers made it happen (they're typing, not me ;o)
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Nah, I'm not into the fic for the smut, I'm in it for the story. Its just I do like a little smut too. I'm enjoying the story so much, you have no idea how great it is to read a fic with an original (new) plot line that hasn't been done to death.
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Of course. A fic is not a fic without Angel doing the primal dance of love.
I'm enjoying the story so much, you have no idea how great it is to read a fic with an original (new) plot line that hasn't been done to death.
I must say, I was very surprised that the "Whistler never existed" premise had never been tried before. It was the very first idea I got for an B/A fic. Then again, the "let's pose as mates and oh yeah get touchy feely in the process" has, I think, been done quite a few times.
Once again, thanks for your comments.
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Wholy different from fics where Buffy and Angel are constantly nattering on(to quote Giles) about being each other's mates. I'm always looking for Tarzan in that situation.
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Oh, but I can totally see that. When Buffy is on 'Beer Bad' beer.
I kinda feel like Buffy would sock him in the mouth if Angel called her his mate. What I don't mind, though, is when the word is used to describe a base animal drive that his vampirism enhances and works with or at odds with a human romantic impulse. I can see Angel thinking of Buffy as his "mate" in that sense. And being ashamed of it.
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Thanks again :o)
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