Choices

Chapter Ten

Buffy bounced up the stairs, smiling giddily. Not because of Xander and his awkward goodbye--a small good night peck--but because she had bested Spike and Angel. She was so proud of herself, it was worth the screaming mathe whe was sure they were going to get into as soon as she walked in the door. She had successfully frightened them away from her. Well, maybe not frightened, more like emasculated them away from her. It was great.

She strolled in, whistling, to the living room to find them sulking and watching TV. Angel flicked it off immediately and glared at her.

"So, how ya doin' Starsky and Hutch?"

"That wasn't right, Buffy." Angel told her.

"Wasn't right? No, what wasn't right was following me and then trying to scare away Xander. That's what wasn't right."

"You lied to us, Buffy. You said you were going with Willow." Spike pointed out.

"Willow was there, wasn't she?"

"But you kept the fact tyou you had a date a secret. Not telling the whole truth is the same as lying." Angel added.

"You know what, I don't care. I thought we had already gone over this, but apparently we have to go over it again. I am twenty-one years I a I am an adult--"

"Not bloody well acting like one," Spike muttered.

"That's rich, coming from you. From BOTH of you! You friggen followed me! Where the hell do you get off?" She shouted, angrily.

"I didn't follow you, I'd like to state that for the record," Angel piped up, raising his hand.

"Oh, shut up Peaches!" Spike barked.

"Don't tell him to shut up!" Buffy barked back at Spike. "You're in more hot water than he is right now, Spike!"

"Like you aren't with the railroad spike story!"

"That's what happens when you piss me off!"

"All right, all right, all right!" Angel shouted above them. He stood. "We need to stop this. Maybe we should have ourselves a good night's rest and talk about it in the morning."

"I have nothing more to say," Buffy said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Buffy..." Angel said warningly.

"Well, I don't! I'm not going to make excuses for not telling you about having a date. And you can't tell me that either of you wouldn't have followed me if I did tell you. You forget how well I know both of you. If you freaked because of Willow, you were sure to flip a nutty about Xander. I'm only twenty-one, I have an excuse for when I might act like a child--" She decided it was best not to bring up the fact that she had used her age as a reason to be considered an adult.

"Might?" Angel muttered.

"But you two over a century old--Angel, you're like what, over two centuries old? What's your excuse?" She continued, ignoring his comment.

Both vampires sat there in silence. Wordlessly, Buffy left them and went to her bedroom.

After a few minutes, Spike grabbed the remote after a few minutes and flipped the TV back on. "I think we did miss this one," he said quietly as Queer Eye started.

********

The whole debacle wasn't touched upon again. A week went by it wasn't even mentioned. Each went about their business as if nothing had happened. In fact, there hadn't been a whole lot of talking between the three at all. Everyone got along amicably, but each one seemed thoughtful, each of them consumed by their own personal feelings on the matter.

For Spike and Angel, it was about how they loved the girl and was insanely jealous of anyone snooping around 'their' girl, and how they couldn't tell her.

For Buffy, she was frustrated thhe ohe only feelings she could generate for Xander was friendship. Her crush on Spike still firmly in place.

She sat in the apartment alone, staring at the TV one uneventful night wondering how she was going to break the news to Xander.

She needed Angel for this. He was good at stuff like that. But, should she ask him or take care of it on her own? She chewed her bottom lip. He might tell her that since she seemed so determined to keep him out of her personal business that she should just take care of it herself. On the other hand, he might be pleased that she was willing to tell him.

Sighing, she flicked off the TV, grabbed her purse and decided to just see him. He had gone into the gallery to check on things, so she knew he would for the most part be alone. Maybe they could just hang out, talk...have one- on- one time. Since her crush on Spike, she'd spent most of her time with him and she had a feeling that Angel felt a tad neglected. For some reason, she always felt in tune with Angel and what he was feeling. Buffy had always been sensitive to Angel and his feelings, he was a sensitive creature--though she knew he did have a diabolical side. Thankfully, it had never been directed at her. Rather at the creatures that threatened her life.

She smiled; Angel was truly her angel-- as cliched as that sounded.
Pushing the door open to the gallery, she looked around at the paintings that were starting to fill up the walls. The gallery was due for an opening in a few weeks. She knew Angel had been working with one of the art coordinators in finding new talent to display. It had been one of her mother's dreams to help struggling artists find a home, a spring board in which to launch themselves. Angel strived to continue her mother's wishes. Angel hadn't had the same type of relationship with Joyce that Spike had.

While Spike was always over, sharing hot cocoa and long talks, Angel had been a bit more distant. Buffy knew that Angel had a hard time relating to people at times, and he could be quite the recluse. Joyce had seemed to understand that about him, and gave him silent support and understanding. For that, Buffy knew that Angel was eternally appreciative.
When the three of them were together, Spike and Buffy were always the center of attention, Angel always seeming to take a backseat because of his quiet nature. Joyce found small ways to include Angel, whether it was making his favorite tea, or asking him for help on something pertaining to the gallery. Angel had an eye for art and Joyce knew it. It was why she had left him to run the gallery. Even though, he had never said it, Buffy knew that had meant the world to him and she was sure that he worked hard on it, wanting to make Joyce proud of him.
Looking around the gallery, the white walls with occasional splashes of color created by the paintings, Buffy felt guilty for not bothering to come by and help him more. It had been too hard after her mother died to even think about it. The few times she had been there since her death, Buffy had only been able to stay a few minutes before sadness overcame her and she felt suffocated with it. She stopped coming. The gallery was her mother. It was her baby (aside from Buffy herself) and the thought of Joyce not being there, saddened her. She felt tears spring to her eyes and she caught a whiff of her mother's perfume, still wafting through the place. She came here to talk to Angel, not to make herself sad.

Before she knew it memories came rushing back to her, playing themselves out in her mind like a movie. She saw Joyce showing her the gallery, her first showiher her mother laughing, her mother worrying about her.

Her heart was breaking, shattering inside her chest and it felt as if the ache would never stop. It was an ache she would feel every time she glanced at a photo of her, or dreamt of her. She felt the familiar sense of the room closing in on her and she felt paralyzed. Tears leaked from her eyes and she impatiently brushed them away with the back of her trembling hand.

"Miss Buffy?"

Buffy raised her head to see one of the associates, Richard, looking at her in concern. He placed his hand on her shoulder and that was all it took. Buffy released the dam inside her at that one act of comfort. Tears fell in what seemed like buckets and sobs racked her body. So lost in her own misery, she barely heard Richard excuse himself and tell her he would get Mr. Angel. Kneeling on the cold, hardwood floor Buffy let it all out. She registered Angel picking her up, cradling her in his arms and carrying her into his office. She held onto him for dear life as he sat down on his leather couch in his office, ran a soothing hand down her back, pushed hair away from her face, stroked her head and whispered comforting words that somehow in her subconscious she understood.

She didn't know how long she sat there in his lap, she only knew that she had no desire to move. She just needed to hold on to her anchor.

"What happened, sweetheart?" He asked softly once her sobs had subsided.

She kept her face pressed against his chest, still clutching the lapels of his jacket tightly. "My mom...it just...it hurts, Angel. It hurts so much and I don't know how to stop this ache in my chest. I hate it...have you ever felt it? The ache in your chest when you hurt so bad and you can't make it stop? It just sits there..."

"I feel it--I've felt it. I understand, and I know it hurts. It will get better, I can promise you that."

"When?"

"It'll take time."

"Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you want to die. I heard that in a movie once and I never understood what it meant until my mom died."

Angel forced her to look at him, placing a hand under chin. "Don't say that, Buffy." He told her sternly, his voice cracking.

She shook her head, "I won't die...I just feel like a part of me has. When they buried her, they buried a part of me too. Does that make sense?"

Grabbing tissues on the desk, and wiping them away, he spoke. "Perfect sense. The thing to remember though is that Joyce--your mom--she didn't really leave. She's still here. In the gallery, in your heart, in your memory, in all the good times you shared with her. Shoving those things down so that they can't touch you only has the reverse effect. It's all right to mourn, it's all right to remember. You have to remember. That's how she lives on."

Buffy rested her head on his chest, over his heart and sighed deeply. After a while she started to giggle.

"What are you giggling about?" Angel asked lightly.

"When she heard that you and Spike were vampires she was so freaked. She practically bought the grocery store out of garlic." Buffy started to giggle more at the memory.

"I remember. The first image I have of Joyce is wearing a garland of garlic around her neck and a turtleneck in the dead of summer," Angel chuckled.

Buffy started to really laugh then, "she nearly fainted when she found out Whistler was really a demon. She said she was too old for it all and she started whittling our chopsticks 'just in case'."

"I remember when she told Spike a dirty joke, she was so excited that she knew one and he sat comatose for a half an hour."

"He was so stunned that my sweet, little mom knew a dirty joke!"

"She was the only one I've ever known that has been able to render him speechless." Angel observed.

They both laughed at the memory and Buffy felt herself feel lighter, a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Tears were streaming down her face still, but she was laughing at the same time and her mom had always thought that being able to laugh through your tears was a step in the right direction to healing your heart. She looked upon Angel's smiling face and she hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," she told him simply.

"Anytime, princess."

"I love you, you know that right?" She looked at him sweetly, innocently.

He nodded, his expression suddenly solemn. "I know."

"Good." Resting against him, she let herself become wrapped in the security of Angel's embrace.

"What did you stop by for?" He asked softly, combing her hair between his fingers.

"I missed having some Angel time. Thought we could hang out. Just the two of us."

She swore his chest puffed at her words. She smiled.

"I would love that," he told her honestly.

"Are you almost done? Do you need some help?"

"Actually, I could use your help. You may not realize it, but you do have an eye for art just like your mom. Maybe you could help me find the perfect home for a few paintings and then we could get some ice cream?"

She sat up straighter and beamed at him, "I would like that." She moved off his lap and he smiled up at her. "Show me what you got," and she held out her hand to him