This Is How It Goes

"Buffy," he said, and she quietly marveled at hearing her name from his mouth.

"I come bearing O positive," she said, trying to inject a note of cheerfulness into her voice and handing him the paper bag.

"You were able to get here without any trouble?" Angel asked. He seemed to ask her this every time.

"Pretty much. Although my diversion of burning down a school classroom may be frowned upon."

He didn't smile, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and then went back down as he thought about what she had said. "That — that was a joke, right?"

She gave him a look.

"Well, you have burned down school buildings before," he said monotonously. Sometimes Buffy thought Angel actually had a sense of humor.

"Why does everyone feel the need to bring up that tiny little mistake constantly? It was a strategy. A well thought-out, carefully planned strategy. Which went horribly wrong through no fault of my own," she said defensively.

Angel walked over to the fireplace, staring into the lack of fire.

"How are you doing? You know, with life in general," he asked, his back turned.

She stared at him. How to even begin answering that question. Gee, Angel, my life revolved around patrolling and having rampant lesbian sex in public places. And then you came and made everything so confusing and now I'm torn between you and Faith, who, incidentally, has no confidence in humanity, me, or herself, and might only be in this little relationship for the screwing. Oh, and I don't even know what it is that you and I have. Buffy looked down at her shoes for inspiration and, shockingly, found nothing helpful.

"I'm doing okay. My life ... it's pretty confusing right now. Lots of things going on," Buffy said hesitantly. "It feels kind of like all these objects and people are orbiting my brain and pulling me in different directions."

Angel was silent for a moment. "I'm not helping things, am I." It wasn't a question.

"Angel, no. I want you here. Having you here, now, is incredible. I — I never thought I would get you back," Buffy said, and her voice broke.

Buffy realized vaguely that, up until now, they had been intentionally or subconsciously avoiding any conversation about the past. No mention of where he was, what had happened, how much everything had hurt. No talking about emotions, either, as if they clung to an unrealistic hope that ignoring their turbulent past would cause it to disappear.

He turned around, gazed at her with a somber expression, and began walking towards her in that slow, loping pace. In some ways, it made him look young, like a normal guy and not a 250-something vampire. Though his eyes, deep, fervid, and soulful (there's that ever-present word) betrayed his age, his experience, the intense ambivalence both of them were feeling. Exposing that sensation of something between them moving just underneath the surface, struggling to get out and destroy whatever illusion of peace they had cultivated.

"But I'm not back," Angel said, stopping several feet away, hands in his pockets. "I'm not sure if I'm even staying. Buffy, you're about to graduate high school. You're going to leave Sunnydale and I don't want to stand in your way." His voice wavered a little.

Buffy strode forward without even thinking about it, grasping his arm.

"You're not standing in my way. And I'm not ready for you to leave — you just got here." The last part came out in a desperate rush.

They looked at each other. Buffy suddenly realized how close they were, how she could feel his skin underneath her hand, and how long it had been. Her breath caught. And, quite abruptly, Angel closed the distance between their mouths and they were kissing. Buffy's brain temporarily shut down as she felt his cool, familiar lips, his long arms wrapped around her. She felt her own arms reach up to him automatically, grasp the back of his neck as the kiss deepened.

And then she realized what exactly was going on. She let go of him, pulled back, and saw his face looking confused, lost, guilty. She stepped back slowly.

"That — I'm sorry, Buffy. That wasn't supposed to happen," he said shakily.

"No, um, not really. Not like I stopped you, though," Buffy said softly. She realized how entrenched they had become in their little world. She felt overwhelmed, and knew suddenly that she couldn't pretend anymore. She had to tell them, she had to tell him.

"Angel," she said suddenly. "I — I may have something with someone ... else."

He looked sharply up, his eyes blazing hurt and jealousy. Buffy saw him clamp down on the emotions fiercely, and his eyes grew soft again.

"You need to know. I can't just forget about them," she continued unevenly. "It's — uh — this person is special to me, and I'm not being fair to either of you."

Angel looked at her steadily.

Oh, God. Buffy took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and looked at the ceiling briefly. "It's Faith."

He blinked. "Faith. The other Slayer?"

Buffy nodded weakly. "It wasn't something planned or something I was looking for. It just kind of happened."

"Faith ... is a girl," Angel said uncertainly.

"Um, yes?" she squeaked lamely.

"That's — uh — that's new. A little unexpected."

"You're telling me," Buffy mumbled, and looked at him intently. "Angel, you have to know that I — I'm just so confused right now. I love you," she said, and realized she hadn't said that to him since she sent him to hell. "I will never stop loving you. But, we — we're not so stable. Of course, neither is she," she added as an afterthought, frowning, but then shook her head sharply and continued. "I feel so attached to both you and her, and I don't know what I'm doing. I know that seeing you, that being with you is wonderful, but I miss her."

Buffy stopped abruptly and realized how startlingly true that was. She missed Faith. God, how she missed her. She missed her complete rejection of social boundaries, her cocky little smirk, how she looked like an unrestrained, fluid machine when she fought. She missed her hands, her fingers, her lips, her eyes that projected such arrogance, but that softened when she was writhing under Buffy's hands. She missed her constant sexual baiting, how her body felt pressed up against her, how patrolling had been so insipid, so unexciting since she had begun avoiding her. Buffy wanted to strip all those layers, all those stupid pretenses and cynical assumptions and find out what Faith truly was.

Angel had been watching her closely as all this was rampaging through her head.

"You're in love with her," he said softly, a current of a suppressed, deep hurt underneath.

Buffy blinked. "Um." She felt her eyes widen. "God, I hope not."

Angel gave her a soft, sad smile that made Buffy's heart dissolve into a puddle of goo.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Faith is ... complicated. Well, I mean, she's not really the type to reveal emotions, or have relationships, or not flirt with anything with a heartbeat, or wear anything other than a hooker outfit, or not resort to violence when she's uncomfortable -" Buffy stopped, realizing she was rambling.

"She sounds, uh, interesting. Kind of like this one vampire I knew in the 19th century." He looked away for several moments, lost in some distant memory.

Buffy looked at him. "I have to tell them, Angel. I have to tell her and them that you're back."

Angel nodded in gentle understanding. "I know."

"If they try anything ... I promise I won't let anything happen to you," she said fiercely. He just looked at her.

Buffy walked out of the mansion, feeling anxious but, ironically, lighter than she had in days. No more secrecy. She was going to face whatever firing squad they threw at her. She was going to show Faith that not all humans were drunken assholes, that she could let go of those engrained beliefs a little.

Chapter 9: Disillusionment

Author's Notes:

Buffy moved swiftly to the school. She wanted to do this now, or else she would find some other pathetic justification not to. She was almost eager.

She walked into the library and froze. All of her friends were sitting at the table, and they looked up when she entered. Buffy looked at Giles and Xander, saw deep disappointment, anger, scorn. Looked at Willow and saw compassionate anxiety, hurt. Oz and Cordelia were simply watching her.

"Buffy," Giles said, and she could barely stand the depth of disillusionment in his voice.

"Giles." She looked at him a little frantically. "I came here to tell you all something."

"We already know," Xander said, his tone short and clipped. "Your boyfriend, you know, the one who terrorized the town for oh, half a year, killed people, made our lives a living hell, is back." Buffy had never heard his voice laced with such bitter anger.

"And you conveniently forgot to tell us, huh, Buff? Decided that you would keep him your dirty little secret, see how much destruction he could do without us knowing?" Xander continued, his voice getting progressively louder.

Buffy felt her stomach twist violently. "What — how did you find out?" she asked quietly.

"Faith saw you together," Xander spat. "Gave us a description and then we checked it out for ourselves."

Her insides, previously feeling like a plumbing job gone wrong, suddenly dissolved. No, no, no, she thought desperately.

"Where is she?" she asked, too loudly, too urgently.

"She decided to not participate in this little intervention. Can't imagine why. I'm actually looking forward to your rationalizations. See what reasons you made up in your head about why you kept a dangerous, homicidal animal and didn't tell us." Xander was talking again, sardonically and then simply furious. Willow and Giles weren't even looking at her.

Buffy stared at him, feeling her anger rising. "I didn't tell you because I was afraid of this exact reaction. You don't understand. You didn't see him. I had to make sure -"

"That you two could screw without us knowing?" he interrupted bitterly.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "How dare you," she said intensely, quietly. "How dare you pretend that I didn't go through hell and back when he — when he changed. How could you possibly think that we would repeat that? Do you think I want that again?"

"Faith — she said she saw you kissing him," Willow said in a quiet voice, looking up at her, hurt, anxious, and a little sympathetic.

"What?" Buffy whispered weakly, and wanted to suddenly curl up.

"Buffy." Giles suddenly spoke. "You deliberately ignored the danger of this situation. You put yourself, us, and the entire town in danger by even interacting with Angel again. Your actions were self-centered and irresponsible." He was glaring at her with equal parts anger and betrayal.

"Did you just decide to forget what had happened? How he threatened you, your mom, all of us? How he killed Ms. Calendar?" Xander asked angrily, and Buffy saw Giles flinch.

"No! Of course not!" she yelled back. "He came back wild — he didn't know who he was, who I was, anything. I had to make sure I wouldn't have to ... I had to make sure he could be himself again."

"And you couldn't tell us about it?" Willow asked, sounding injured. "We could have helped. You didn't have to do this by yourself."

"Of course she did," Xander said acrimoniously. "Buffy's the Slayer, right? She doesn't have to consult us lesser people when she makes decisions." He glared at her, his eyes bright and narrow. "Forgetting, of course, the mess you left for us last time you decided to play house with Angel."

Buffy felt as if she'd been slapped. "The mess I left for you? Tell me, Xander, please, since my memory just isn't what it used to be, how helpful you were when this happened. Did you stop the world from being sucked into hell? Did you do anything but be a jealous 12 year-old boy?"

Xander stood up so quickly from the table that his chair overturned, and faced Buffy.

"I didn't choke when I had the chance to kill him," he said, dangerously quiet.

Buffy stepped forward, closing the distance between them, feeling her stomach clench at his words. His eyes flashed and Buffy was two seconds away from hitting him in the face.

"Enough!" Giles yelled. Cordelia grasped his arm and Xander shrugged her off, still staring at Buffy.

"Xander, don't be an idiot. Buffy could kick your ass in 13 different directions," Cordelia snapped.

"Xander, sit down." Giles pointed firmly, and Xander angrily picked up the chair and sat down in it. "Buffy, just go. We'll have to talk about this later. We need to discuss what we should do about Angel," Giles finished wearily.

Buffy stood, feeling adrenaline and anger coursing through her, and abruptly turned around and walked out. Her fists were clenched, fingernails digging into her palms as she thought about what Xander and Giles had said. She shouldn't have kept him a secret, she knew that. But what Xander had yelled, accusing her of forgetting everything that had happened, of forgetting how painful that time was, of forgetting Giles' face as he collapsed, shaking with grief and rage. No, she could never forget that.

Faith, she thought. And suddenly all of the rage inside her dissolved, replaced by desperate anxiety. God, she saw us kissing. How was she going to make this right?

Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around. Willow was standing there, her face contorted in concern, apprehension, and Buffy was intensely relieved to see, empathy.

"Are you okay?" Willow asked quietly, and Buffy felt something inside her let go, and began to cry. Willow pulled her into a firm hug and held Buffy as she shuddered.

"God, Wil, I'm so sorry," she managed to gasp. "I — I had no idea what to do. I should have told you. I should have told everyone."

"Well, yeah," she said gently. "But, we all do not so intelligent things sometimes. Part of the human packaging."

Buffy stepped back and looked at her, wiping her cheeks violently. "What — how did she look when she told you?"

Willow didn't have to ask who Buffy was talking about. "I honestly couldn't say, Buffy. Faith isn't exactly an emotional billboard, you know. I mean, she was angry, but also trying really hard to hide it and do the whole indifference thing." Willow looked down and said the next part in a quiet voice. "I think she was really hurt."

Buffy clenched her fists tightly. "How could I do this? To her, to you, to everyone. It all seemed so logical when I thought about it." She snorted bitterly. "Funny how that works."

"Buffy," Willow said, grasping her shoulder. "I've known you for a while now, and I know that you don't do things unless you believe they're the right thing to do. And, in my humble opinion, you've got a pretty darn good moral compass."