tampered | log; ongoing

log; ongoing

When; Post marriage-curse+freakout
Rating; PG?
Characters; Angel [

atoner] and Buffy Summers
Summary; They have A Talk.
Log;

Buffy had never, in all her time in the City, experienced a curse that made her feel so much regret. Seeing Heaven was the only one that came close. But this, well. It crossed so many wires and she didn’t even want to think about it.

She’d been normal, but not happy. Which was weird, because she should’ve been happy, right? No Slayer duties, no apocalypses complete with doom and gloom, no disappearing boyfriends and relationships rife with hurt. Just…monotony. It all settled strangely on the mind, but first off?

She needed to see Angel. And stat. Well, after the obligatory freak out session. So come mid-afternoon, a Slayer stands of the doorstep of Casa de Angel and Connor, which would technically be called ‘Gabe’s house’.

Buffy knocks- maybe a little bit tentatively, wondering all the time if she’s just making things worse. After all, they left all of this behind years ago, and it was supposed to be buried good and proper.

Some things should just stay buried.

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It was better to leave it buried, but the feeling of seeing Buffy marrying someone else, of being happy—it made him have to act. Cookie dough be damned, the idea of her living that life, even if just for a day, unsettled him to an uncomfortable degree. Sure, it was a little bolder than he was used to, but it was for a purpose. Distraction, to make sure things wouldn't turn out how Buffy wouldn't want. That was the true rationality behind it, and it wasn't like Angel was lying about that.

But of course, there would always be another side to the story. The part where it was too easy to say those things. No matter how much changed, how he walked with his feet flat on the ground of Hell, Angel knew that a significant part of him would never change. It was all right, though. He dealt with it, she dealt with it. Really, life went on like that. But having it pushed in his face that he hadn't ever had that mark in her life, hadn't been that significant something—it bothered him. The mantra of this is just one of those curses didn't make the experience any less discomforting.

When the knock came and Angel peered out to see who it was, he figured he should've expected. Buffy would come. It wasn't like there was the distance between LA and Sunnydale to consider, and she wasn't haunted by the horrors of her town. The City had its own problems to deal with, and logically: this was one of them.

"One second, Buffy," he called out, shifting his position to open the door. "Come in." Angel was sitting just inside at an angle where no light could hit him. While he waited for her to come in, he listened for Connor. Wherever they had this impending talk, it would probably be better done where his son couldn't listen. Just for the lack of complications and all.

“Sorry. Is this a…bad time? Well, obviously. It’s daylight. It’s a bad time.” Things are awkward- more awkward than they rightfully should be and she steps inside, hands shoved inside her jacket pockets, doggedly looking anywhere but at him. Angel knew it too- they were going to have to talk sometime.

Did you mean what you said, yesterday? It’d be stupid to ask. Stupid and unnecessary- picking at old scars. What was the point of wanting something that she couldn’t possibly have? Angel was out of her life now and for the most part she was almost grateful- every day was like the end of the world with him.

But now he’s back, and there’s no way that she can avoid it. He was right, the distance made things easier. Out of sight, out of mind- but not really.

“About yesterday- that wasn’t me. You know that, right? Well, it was me, but not me, me. It was Stepford me. And frankly I’m not sure that I ever wanted to see that side- that side can stay in my brain.” And suddenly, it all falls flat on her ears. She shouldn’t even be here. What was she doing? What did she think that this would accomplish?

Nothing is the right answer, but she’s always been in denial of that.

"Yeah, I know." With the door closed, he glances toward the part of the house he knew was empty. But instead of leading her there, he glanced back at her awkwardly, raising his arm up to rub at the back of his neck. This was strained. He could tell that much, and yet, he stood there, dropping his hand, crossing his arms, and looking down for a moment. "I wouldn't have said those things. You know, if you weren't cursed." He uncrossed his arms. "It was to stop things. You didn't mean it. And I—well ..."

Angel was once again reminded that he wasn't so good at inspirational words or speeches. Or being reassuring. Being as old as he was just didn't help with that.

I wouldn’t have said those things if you weren’t cursed.

Well. That wrapped her question up nicely. She’d almost forgotten that Angel never played games, never danced around a subject. Only he could make her want to cry in four seconds flat and not even realize he was doing it. It’s a singular talent. Buffy flinches just the slightest before shaking it off because that’s stupid and all the while her brain is screaming bail.

But she can’t, because she has to follow through with what she’s started, no matter how painfully awkward it gets.

“Yeah.” Her back’s turned to him now. “So can we just…forget that ever happened?”

"That's probably for the best, right?" Angel thought about everything that passed in recent days. He was supposed to allow her to grow, rather than sit here and do what wasn't the right thing. There was a part of him that hated it, but he knew it was the acceptable way to do this. To handle this. The situation brought them too close, and while he liked being able to see her, liked being able to talk to her—it was already messy and complicated.

"But you, me, us being here. That's not going to get easier, is it?" He had to approach the subject, rather than them dancing around it. At least, they had to acknowledge it.

Right. He was absolutely right. They shouldn’t even be talking right now. Buffy should be across the city, separated by forests and buildings and lots of other things that took time and effort to cross. This- them being so close here, that was downright dangerous.

His ring is in her pocket, two hands holding a heart topped with a crown. Because the City evidently wasn’t so keen on letting her forget, even when he wasn’t within their borders.

She has no idea what to do with it, but figures that it’s been gathering dust on her shelf for too long now.

“It’s never easy. Ever. But yeah, I’d say this throws a definite wrench in the plans of staying away from each other.”

Buffy’s more than a little nervous and it comes out in the way that she’s started pacing and pushing her hair back from her face, and wringing her hands slightly. Small mannerisms that Angel has probably seen a million times before- and he knows what they mean.

“It’s just- things were starting to get easy. Or maybe not easy, but at least…semi-normal. At the very least my heart didn’t start pounding like crazy whenever someone mentioned you. And now this- it’s just-“

“It’s bringing everything back.”

He noted every time she shifted, every actions he took—it was obvious enough to him. This old familiarity. He missed being around Buffy, but he didn't miss these talks, these moments of anxious feelings, the feeling of "will we come out of this okay, or won't we." That was part of why LA proved appealing in the end. Angel missed her more than he liked, but he was able to move on—or, at the least, pretend that he was comfortable enough with the notion to stick with the resolve of doing it.

"Do you remember how you felt, Buffy? In that life?" Perhaps it wasn't the question to ask now, but he remembered those few seconds of hesitation. They would naturally be there, but there was something about them. Angel and Buffy. He remembered not feeling surprised when she was there—because that was just how they were.

"When I was saying those things." He glanced down, realizing they hadn't escaped to another room. No, they were still here, and hopefully, they could finish this. Get away safely? No, there was nothing safe about them being even vaguely located in a similar place.

“Stepford-me mostly just thought you were drunk.” She skirts around the question forever, trying to think of something that could possibly make this less awkward, but draws a blank. But she’s long since figured out that’s it better to get straight to the point, no games. It’s just easier that way.

“She- that version of me, didn’t have what we…had.” had being the operative word. Why not sever that last tie to the past? Better to do it like ripping off a bandage. Buffy reaches into her pocket.

“Here.”

She opens his hands, slips the ring in his palm, and closes his fingers over it. All the while, she’s trying to keep herself detached. That’s how Slayers are supposed to be, right? Buffy understands why now.

It just hurts too much.

Angel tightened his fingers around the ring, and he closed his eyes, taking a step back. No questions, nothing—he just held it all in for the moment. Talking about this sort of thing was old, tired, and they were going to come to the same conclusion in the end anyway, weren't they? He imagined later, he would end up looking at the ring before tucking it away. That, or he'd keep it on himself, holding on to another piece of what could never be.

"I could tell," he finally managed. "I wanted to see." It was admitting something, wasn't it? Angel had been surprised she even knew him in that life. A normal life, without inspiring him or changing him or making him understand who he needed to be. It wasn't something he pictured for himself.

The hand itself was slowly lowered and his fingers remained clenched around the ring.

They’ve done this dance and had this conversation a million times before- so many times that it feels déjà vu. Like they’re stuck in stasis forever, never moving forward while the other was around. Buffy realizes that it’s impossible- they never had a future, and they never will. Whatever they have now is all in the past.

Angel has made her cry so many times over the course of her life, and she doesn’t want to cry anymore. Not over him, not over Riley or Sam or anyone else. She’s wiping her hands of it all.

“Did it upset you?” this is probably not a question she should be asking, given the fragility of the situation- but she has to know, and she knows that Angel will answer regardless.

Buffy turns to face him now, keeping her distance like she knows she has to- but she’s looking him in the eye now, and that’s a start.

If it was possible to tighten his fingers any further, he just did it then. Angel looked back at Buffy, knowing that he couldn't be dishonest with this sort of question in the air. He opened his mouth once, but then closed it. No, he wasn't sure how to say it. Not just yet. Instead, he allowed for that awkward silence to hang between them.

"It hurt to think you were happy," he finally managed. "And that you were happy without me. That we weren't as 'no matter what' as we'd always thought." Curiosity shouldn't have taken over when the curse was happening. He knew that now, but there was no turning back now.

“I wasn’t.” Happy. She doesn’t need to say the word, he’ll know what she’s talking about. He always seems to know, anyways. Buffy remembered that she’d once told Riley that no one had known her like he did. She realizes now that it was a lie- not an intentional one, but a lie all the same.

That title belonged to Angel.

It takes her a few seconds to realize that she’s gravitating towards him, and stops. “No matter what, Angel? There were too many ‘what’s’ in our lives to begin with.” This is not the time to be bringing this up and she knows it.

“We keep doing this. Is it ever gonna end?”

The question is, does she want it to?

"It ended for a while. You, me, we went our separate ways. I lived in Hell for a while." Now we're here. Angel didn't see the need to respond to the happy thing again. There was some gratification in it that he knew he shouldn't be taking, but he wasn't going to capitalize on it. That wasn't something he ever did.

Even if some part of him held onto that confirmation, more than he ever should.

"But that was the thing. We were separate. Who knows what this place is going to do, what's going to happen, who I'll become." There it was, the breaking point. He knew it, and he had a feeling that she knew it. No matter what it came to, it always came back to square one. They had lives to live. Things to do.

Then again, Angel couldn't help but wonder—what if he arrived around the same time as Connor, with those memories intact? Would this be less impossible?

Did it even matter now?

“Hell. Now that’s a fun ride.” She quips because it’s her default, because she can’t think of anything else to say, but she realizes that it sounds insensitive. There’s also the fact that she didn’t know about this- or anything about his life after the point where he left. They were that detached from each other.

She didn’t even know that he had a son.

“You know I’d stop you, if you ever-“ became that. She doesn’t have to say it. Buffy’s wondered and worried about this herself, almost directly after Angel arrived.

It frustrates her immensely- that she’s not in control here. And anyone who knows Buffy knows how she feels about problems that she can’t fix, can’t stake or beat up until it goes away. Give her monsters any day, but those problems? Not so much.

“We know better this time around. We’ll stop it.”

"Yeah. Definitely different when it's in LA, at least." Casual was something he could do. Quips, as normal and natural as they were, were things he could handle. They may be insensitive, but he didn't mind. Something normal in this conversation was welcome. There was too much weight, otherwise. Years separated them, time separated them, and standing here was almost pointless. It would always come back to the same issues, the same problems, wouldn't it?

"And—I know, Buffy. But what if—" you don't get to me in time. He didn't want to look at the terror Angelus could cause in the short time necessary to Buffy coming and stopping him. "Nothing. There's no room for that, right?"

“I promise you.”

There isn’t much she can do here, Buffy knows that. She can’t contend with the big boys and girls- the super powered vampires or Clark Kent or even the deities. The City suppresses powers and she slipped under the radar, which is mildly depressing if you really think about it.

Superhero girl is less…super, and more ‘girl’. And it’s not sitting well with her. But this promise she can make, and she will make. For Angel. He wouldn’t be able to handle turning into Angelus and realizing that he’d hurt someone. Not this time around.

“Right. There’s no room for that.” She flounders awkwardly, both slightly saddened but at the same time, grateful for the rift between them.

“I should…go. We shouldn’t even be talking right now. We’re too close.”

"Yeah, you're right. Back to distance? Talking over a network? I think I can handle that." The words came out a little faster than he intended them to, but Angel didn't mind that as much. He figured this was awkward enough. A few rushed phrasings wouldn't make much of a difference.

"We can do it." Angel knew it was a lie as soon as he said it. There was barely a wedge between them right now. That old familiarity kept slipping in. Just a few feet of distance was all it took, and it wasn't like he wanted that to happen. "It'll get easier." Another lie. It never got easier—they just got numb to it. They ignored it, but something like this, it never quite went away.

Familiarity equals bad things. Familiarity means that they start to forget why they were apart in the first place, it means that they start slipping into their old habits, and she doesn’t want that. Does she? No, of course she doesn’t. Angel was (mostly) out of her life before this, so why can’t things go back to the way they were?

It’s because the next time something hurts her, she’s going to want to come here. Her first thought will be to run to Angel, and she can’t do that anymore.

He’s right in thinking that physically, they’re not so far apart now. There’s some sort of weird gravity at work here- or maybe, again, it’s just habit.

“Right. We can do it. We’ll pull through somehow.” The words sound flat and hollow, even to her, and it sounds more as if she’s trying to convince herself than anyone else.

"We'll um- we'll keep in touch. Over the network."

[OOC- I think I'm gonna have to go to bed. I'll reply in the morning! <3]

"Yeah. It won't be weird." Angel hesitantly moved into the same position he had when she first was coming in, just inside of the doorway, back pressed to the wall. It was an action, not words, but he had a feeling it would speak enough of a volume for her to understand. There was no part of him that wanted to rush her out, but he had to force himself into this position. Saying that it was time to go was another thing. That meant verbal acknowledgment of all this to a new degree. It wasn't one he liked much, either.

"We'll be fine, Buffy." This was the most sincere thing he said so far, but the words were choked. His arms crossed again as he leaned against his place. "We always are, aren't we?" Adding that on made it seem false again. He didn't wait for her to respond before he cast an awkward glance toward the door.

"Troopers, that's us." she tries another attempt at a half-hearted quip but it falls flat on her ears and truth be told, she's almost glad when Angel makes the first move. Buffy can take a hint. She needs to bail, and now- and hope that distance would make things better.

What's the point of wanting something that's stuck in the past?

"So I'd better..go. And, Angel-" she puts a hand on the doorknob and hesitates- allowing herself one look back, and one only. "It's good to see you again."

That part is true.

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log; ongoing

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sob I've been horribly distracted lately, sorry.

that's alright bb! <3 take your time

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