Believe In Me

Chapter Three

Buffy was quietly aware that something was off with Angel. Watching him out of the corner of her eye as she engaged in conversation with Spike, she could sense that something was troubling him. Needless to say, it was driving her crazy.

With everything they'd been through, the one lesson that continuously came back as a recurring theme was honesty. Openness.

However, having always been in tune to Angel and his moods, she knew that whatever it was he was pondering, he would eventually tell her. Whether that meant she had to draw it out of him or he'd come to her on his own remained to be seen.

She had a feeling she was going to have to draw it out of him considering patience was not her forte and knowing how Angel could sit on something, the sky would be falling down around them before he finally said, "Oh, hey, I meant to tell you . . . "

As soon as they arrived home, Angel said something about having to check his email and took off to his office.

Buffy stood in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed and tapped her fingers on her arm as she pondered what had happened during the course of the party to make her mate act so strangely all of a sudden.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?" Spike said absently as she proceeded to prepare his dinner of O Neg.

"Did you upset him?"

"Who? Angel?"

"Yes, Angel."

"No, why do you think I did something?" he sounded hurt and annoyed by the suggestion to which Buffy felt instantly guilty. However, knowing the way the two could still bicker. . .

"Don't you notice it?" she asked him, frowning.

"How Angel got really weird all of a sudden? Yeah, I've noticed it."

"Well?"

"I think you should give him a minute, Buffy. He'll tell us eventually and if he doesn't in say a day or so, then we can ask him. You know he hates to be crowded. Just give him a chance. He has gotten better at that whole talking thing you know."
"I know," she sighed, "I just have that funny feeling—"

Spike turned to her and pointed at her as the microwave signaled his dinner was warmed up. "Don't you dare bloody start with another one of your feelings. Then it's on to visions and –No. Do you hear me? Capital N, capital O. I am NOT going through that again."

Buffy cringed. How could she forget ‘that'. The kidnapping and robbing of her memories—the CHANGING of her memories by a vindictive and controlling Quentin Travers. It was a time in her life—their lives—she was not keen on revisiting. When she thought of how she'd been lead to believe that her beloved vampires had murdered her mother; a woman they loved as if she were their mothers—and when she thought of how she'd almost staked her mates, well, it was enough to send her into a panic attack and give her nightmares for a week.

"I'm just saying," Buffy started.

"Well quit ‘just saying'. Leave it be for now, Buffy. Mr. Broody Pants will tell us when he's ready."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Fine."

"Why don't you go change? I'm going to take these boxes off and I'll meet you in the living room in say a half hour?"

She grinned, "Sounds good." And she ran up the stairs of their spacious beach house in Newport, Rhode Island to their bedroom to change.

Spike, for his part, ambled his way down to Angel's study. He knocked lightly. "Can I come in?"

"I'll be a minute, Spike," Angel called back absently.

"That's not what I asked," Spike replied.

A heavy unneeded sigh and then, "Fine, yes, come in. I'm finishing up anyway."

Spike pushed the door open and glanced quickly at the computer screen to which Angel had quickly shut it down. "All right, spill."

Angel looked up at him blankly. "What?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "What's going on with you? Don't think Buffy and I haven't noticed that you've been acting funny since we left the party. You've been quiet. Well, quieter. What's going on? What happened?"
"I don't want to get into, Spike. It's Halloween, the veil between this world and the spirit world is the thinnest right now, let's just go with that."

"No, we're not going to go with just that. We are going to get into it because our girl's having another one of her funny feelings. Remember what happened last time she had one of those?"

Angel winced. "All right, at the—where is she?"

"Changing. Hurry up."

"All right. At the party when the strobe lights came on and the bass started, someone had screamed and Buffy had jumped into the foray to find out who it was and make sure everything was okay. I went after her because you know how she is—"

"Leaps without looking? Yeah, I'm aware," Spike said dryly.

"I was weaving in and out of the crowd, trying to find you, trying to find Buffy and I knocked into someone and when she turned around," Angel shook his head, looking down. "When she turned around it was Darla."

Spike nearly dropped his mug o' blood and his eyes bugged. "DARLA?"

"Sssh! She'll hear you," Angel whispered urgently.

"She doesn't know who Darla is exactly."

"She knows enough. She knows she's my Sire. She knows she's supposed to be dead."

"How the bloody hell--?"

Angel shrugged, "I don't know."

"What were you doing in here then? Looking her up?"

Angel gave him a look, "No, I was emailing Giles. Trying to find out if there's been any unusual activity with it being All Hallows Eve and all."

Spike eyed him. "You keeping something from me?"

"No, why would I do that?" Angel said and looked him straight in the eye.

"You know how I can always tell when Buffy's pulling one over me?"

"How?"
"She looks me straight in the eye just like you just did. Her gaze doesn't waver. Wonder where she got that from," Spike mused and took a sip of dinner.

"Let me handle this Spike," Angel grumbled.

"We're family, remember? We have problems, we work them out together," Spike reminded him pointedly. "We're not going through hell again, you understand me?"

"Spike! Angel! I'm done, where are you?" Buffy shouted from the living room across the house.

"Coming!" Angel shouted back and got up, starting for the door. Spike stood in front of him, stopping him.

"I mean it Angel," Spike said warningly.

"Don't worry about it," Angel said, annoyed. "Everything's fine." And he effectively skirted around Spike and headed out the door.

"Famous last words," Spike muttered.