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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. They belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, the WB, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Author’s Notes: This takes place after "Consequences" but before "Doppelganger" (with the evil Willow). It has no real plot (well, no conflict) but it's just something to pass the time (and also the response to a challenge on Jewel's New BtVS Page). I love comments! Email me!
"You want me to teach you to drive?" he asked again, just to make sure he had it right.
"Please? I mean, I know night’s probably not the best time to learn, but it has to be an adult, so that rules out Oz, and Giles won’t do it and I’m not asking Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Price!" Buffy exclaimed. Angel blinked.
"I don’t have a license," he said, trying to imagine himself giving the Slayer driving lessons. Somehow the picture didn’t work.
"That’s okay," Buffy said cheerfully. "If we do it at night no one’s gonna pull us over. So there are advantages."
"I don’t know. I haven’t driven much," Angel said.
"I’m sure you’re great at it!" Buffy said. "You’re the driving type."
"The driving type?"
"You know, sober, responsible. Like that."
"Right."
"Please, Angel? I’m eighteen and I can’t drive! It’s pathetic!"
"When I was eighteen we didn’t have cars," Angel said.
"Tragic I’m sure, but ultimately not an issue," Buffy pointed out. "The relevant thing here is whether or not you’re going to teach me how to drive now. We can use WP’s car."
"WP?"
"New watcher. His name’s too long."
"How can we use his car?" Angel asked, beginning to get confused again.
"Well he doesn’t know I can’t drive, and right now he’s on this big guilty kick for messing everything up with Faith—which is as it should be, ‘cause we were doing just fine without him—so if you come and say there’s a big crisis out of town, he’ll give me the car, and then we go have some quality driving time," Buffy said, smiling brightly.
"I’m supposed to lie to your watcher?" Buffy made a face.
"Okay, I know it sounds bad, but it isn’t really. I mean, he doesn’t deserve the title watcher or the authority that’s supposed to go with it. Faith is . . . god only knows where thanks to him. And if there’s actually something going on, we won’t go. Just if it’s gonna be a quiet night," Buffy promised. Angel was still skeptical.
"I don’t know Buffy."
"Please?" she implored, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He couldn’t resist the sweetness. He never had been able to before.
"All right," he said. "I’ll teach you how to drive." Buffy clapped delightedly.
"Thank you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. They both froze, her arms still around his neck. Slowly, Angel leaned down and kissed her softly, barely brushing her mouth at first, and then with increasing passion. Her arms tightened around his neck. He broke away.
"We shouldn’t . . . you should probably go home," he said breathlessly—except he didn’t have breath. Buffy nodded vacantly, then suddenly realized what he had said and started nodding in earnest.
"Right. I should put in an early night so I’ll be rested for tomorrow. Is tomorrow okay with you?" Buffy asked, realizing she hadn’t asked him. Angel smiled, the side of his mouth crooking up.
"You know, I have so many other plans," he said dryly. Buffy smiled.
"Come to the library at eight," she said softly, then kissed him quickly on the mouth and fled. "Thank you!" she called back. Angel watched until the last glint of moonlight on her hair was gone; listened until her footsteps disappeared entirely. He turned to the fire, at a loss for what to do next, as he always was right after she left. He smiled slightly, then nearly groaned aloud.
He was supposed to teach Buffy to drive. He just hoped she wasn’t as hopeless as he feared she was. Nowhere was it written that Slayer’s were good behind the wheel.
"Angel, what are you doing here?" Buffy asked innocently. She was a good actress, he would give her that. Of course, he would give her everything if he had anything to give . . .
"There’s something big happening. Tonight," Angel said. The new Watcher blinked in suprise; Giles luckily wasn’t there. He knew Angel too well.
"I hadn’t heard anything," Wesley said. Angel’s expression didn’t change. Would he have heard anything if there were actually something happening? Angel somehow doubted it. Buffy looked as if she did too.
"I’d better go. Where is it?" she asked, grabbing her coat. She looked great in skin tight black pants and a blue shirt with a V-neck and sleeves to just above her elbows. Of course, she always looked great. Angel shook off the thought.
"Out near the beach," Angel replied, pulling his mind back to the conversation.
"We’ll need a car," Buffy said in her most innocent voice. She looked to Angel first. He shrugged slightly. She turned to Wesley.
"Take mine. I’ll research," he said, not quite getting the situation yet. Buffy held out her hand and he handed over the keys. She smiled.
"Hopefully it’s nothing. I’ll stop back before I go home," she promised and turned to Angel, her eyes motioning to the door. He acknowledged the poor, confused Watcher, then walked out the door, hearing Buffy right behind. Once the library door closed behind them she started laughing.
"He never even knew what was going on!" she cried, then hastened up beside him and gave him a sidelong look. "So what’s the first thing I do?"
"Get to the car," Angel said dryly. She made a face.
"Should I drive around town then?" Buffy asked. Angel remembered something she’d said about a dent in her mother’s car.
"Why don’t I drive us out of town and then you can practice where . . . where there aren’t so many people," Angel said carefully.
"I’m not gonna hit anyone!" Buffy exclaimed. Angel merely smiled.
"Okay, apply pressure to the gas," Angel instructed. Buffy did so. He caught and braced himself against the dashboard of Wesley Wyndham-Price’s Saturn. "Not that much pressure!" he exclaimed. Buffy took her foot off the gas entirely and hit the brakes. Hard. Angel was very glad suddenly for his vampire strength—it was the only thing that kept him from getting whiplash.
"Sorry," Buffy murmured, glancing sideways at him with a small, nervous smile.
"It’s okay," Angel said, taking a deep breath. "All right, try it again, but not as hard." Buffy did as she was instructed and the car inched forward. "A little harder." The car sped up a bit. Angel looked at Buffy, who was smiling broadly, then back at the road. "Watch out!" he cried, as they began to go slowly (but steadily) off the road. Buffy jerked the steering wheel and Angel cried out involuntarily. She jerked back.
"Angel—" she cried in a high pitched voice.
"Calm down, straighten out the steering wheel. Take deep breaths," Angel said soothingly. Buffy took a deep breath and did as she was told.
"Hey, at least I can’t kill you, right?" she joked weakly. He smiled, remembering suddenly that he’d said something similar when he first learned how to drive.
"Remember, a little movement on the steering wheel does a lot. Don’t jerk, either, move smoothly to one side or the other, and you don’t need to move far usually," Angel instructed.
"Okay. Smoothly and slowly; not far," Buffy repeated. "I can do this."
"You’re doing well. There, see, just keep going and watch the road. You can even go a little faster," Angel said, glancing at the speedometer. Buffy took another deep breath and nodded, not taking her eyes off the road. There was a long silence.
"Talk, Angel," she commanded, breaking it. "I’m too nervous for quiet. Tell me—when did you learn how to drive? I mean, if you want to tell me."
"Sure," Angel said. "I didn’t really learn though—it was more of a spur of the moment kind of thing."
"That’s okay," Buffy said. "Share, Angel." Angel blinked and thought back. It was a long time—over a hundred years. That was hard to believe. True, but hard to believe. Whenever he thought he was used to being over two hundred years old, something shook him out of it—like falling in love with a sixteen-year-old, or teaching the now eighteen-year-old to drive.
"I was with Darla. We’d been invited to a weekend party at a country manor. We were planning on having a marvelous time—all the food we could ever want, and charades as well!" Angel said, smiling slightly and losing himself in his memories. "It didn’t quite work like that—one of the guests turned out to be part of the Watcher’s Council, and when Darla tried to . . . He had the whole manor out hunting us down. Not that we couldn’t have fought off twenty of them, but he called the Slayer, so we were rather eager to be off. We were looking for a carriage, but we hadn’t time to catch horses—most animals don’t like vampires—and attach them to the carriage. And then Darla found the automobile." Angel paused and glanced over at Buffy, whose eyes were firmly fixed on the road. After a moment of silence she almost looked over at him, but just stopped herself, nearly turning the car off the road again in her haste to look back. Angel smiled.
"Why’d you stop?" Buffy asked plaintively. "You’re just getting to the good part! And I was just getting used to driving!"
"Are you sure you want to hear it?" Angel asked. It had been a whole different life then; he’d been a whole different person. A person that had tortured her for months.
"Very sure! I want to hear what happened with the car? And when were cars invented anyway?"
"Only a few years before this. It was very new . . . only a few very rich people had them, and our hosts happened to be one of those few. Neither of us had ridden in one before. Darla called me over and insisted we take it, saying it would be amusing. I agreed; well, I laughed and decided we should try it at least. We cranked it up and off we went. Cars were very different then—they were very slow, and small and not entirely stable. Also, the roads were horrible. Absolutely no pavement and holes everywhere," Angel said.
"Did you get into any?" Buffy asked, not looking over at him. Angel’s mouth twitched up.
"A few. I hadn’t the slightest idea of how to steer, and Darla kept shrieking at me that they were following and we had to go faster. As if I could! The best part was the cliff though."
"The cliff?" Buffy asked, her eyebrows arching.
"It wasn’t exactly a cliff—but it was close. I didn’t see it until it was too late and we’d gone over—the car literally flew through the air and landed very hard on a steep hill, which we proceeded to roll down at a rather interesting pace. Darla started screaming at me for-for nearly crashing the car I suppose. I told her . . . I said ‘At least it won’t kill us,’ and laughed as he hurtled down the hill faster than horses could have pulled us. She was angry with me for that, and angrier when I pointed out it was one way to go fast." Buffy laughed at that and Angel’s mouth turned up again, despite himself.
"What happened?" she asked.
"We crashed into a tree," Angel answered. He looked over and realized Buffy was looking at him.
"Buffy, the road," he said softly.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, and looked back at the road. There was a moment of silence. "It wasn’t all bad, then, was it?" she asked finally.
"No, it wasn’t all bad," Angel replied. Neither was Darla, or Spike, or even Drusilla. Maybe especially Drusilla. He had loved her in his own twisted way. Except it wasn’t my way, Angel thought suddenly. It was the demon’s way. He’d only loved one woman since his soul had returned to him, and none before he lost it in the beginning. One woman, and she was concentrating very seriously on the road. He smiled despite himself.
"You’re doing great," he said. Buffy spared him a glance and a brilliant smile.
"Thanks. That wasn’t all your driving experience though, was it?" she asked, realizing something suddenly.
"No," Angel assured her, amused. "A few years ago I re-learned. With slightly better results."
"That’s good. And reassuring. I was beginning to think maybe I’d misjudged you," Buffy said. Angel frowned slightly.
"Misjudged me in what?" he asked.
"Being the driving type. Sober, responsible. Even I’ve never wrecked a car," she pointed out, looking over and catching his eyes. Angel smiled at the teasing he saw in her green ones.
"But if you don’t keep your eyes on the road . . ." he said, trailing off. Buffy winced and looked back at the road ahead of her.
"Why don’t we go back?" Angel suggested, glancing at the clock.
"Okay!" Buffy said cheerfully. There was a moment of silence and then she asked in a plaintive voice, "How do you turn around?"
"This is good! This is great! Witness me driving! Like an adult!" Buffy exclaimed. Angel watched her with hooded eyes.
"Congratulations," he said softly. This was their fourth driving lesson—Buffy was doing great. She’d picked it up like a natural. Mostly.
"Angel, thank you for teaching me," Buffy said softly.
"Anything," Angel replied lightly—or at least, he tried to reply lightly, but the word didn’t come out especially light. Buffy bit her lip.
"It’s been really nice to spend time with you and just talk," she said softly, not looking at him.
"I’ve enjoyed it," Angel said. Maybe he wouldn’t be only the cryptic guy that showed up with warnings whenever bad things were coming—but Spike’s words echoed in his mind. They would never be friends. They could never be friends.
"Angel—it means a lot to me to hear about your life. Even your life when you were—before you got your soul back. There must have been good times. And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk about them, because well, there are things I don’t walk to talk about either, but if you do—I’d love to hear about them," Buffy said softly, taking her eyes from the road for a second, to look at him. Angel sat silently, thinking. There were things he’d never told anyone—he didn’t want to think about the bad things, didn’t want people to know, but he’d lived two hundred and forty three years—at least, that’s what he thought it was, he got confused sometimes. Dates were hard to remember after that long—and he’d experienced so many things. He’d lived in so many different worlds. Maybe he should share them.
"I think—I think maybe I’d like that," Angel said, looking over at Buffy. Her eyes were happy, and sad at the same time, and so, so sweet. He smiled at her and said, "Buffy, road," softly. She didn’t jump or look startled, just gave him a sweet, sunny smile—all the sunlight he’d had in a long time—and looked back to the road ahead of her. To the road ahead of them both.