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Part 2
“You’re sure he’s . . . you know . . . Angel? Not Angelus?” Xander asked Buffy in a hushed tone for the millionth time that day. At least, it felt like the millionth time.
“I’m sure Xander! I mean, he came in during the day, plus I’ve seen him in a mirror, both of which mean he’s human. And THAT means he’s good, because before he was a vampire there WAS no bad Angel. Would you stop? He’s been gone for ten years—the least you can do is be nice!” Buffy exclaimed. They were sitting at a table in the Bronze, watching Angel and Cordelia at the bar across the room. Not that Cordy could drink—but she wanted a soda, and she’d offered to get the others’ drinks. Of course, they were supposedly there to make sure there weren’t any vampires around . . . but one drink wouldn’t hurt. After all, it had been years since she’d seen him. Buffy felt slightly guilty though . . . Brian was checking out the graveyard and Willow and Giles were researching any weaknesses Eythan might have.
“I’m being nice. I haven’t cut him yet to see if he bleeds,” Xander pointed out. Buffy hissed at him, then turned to get up and help Cordelia as they approached. “Here, let me take that. Thank you,” she said, handing Xander’s drink to him, and accepting her own beer from Angel.
“When are you due?” Angel asked Cordelia.
“Three weeks,” she said, looking down at her distended belly. “And whenever she decides to come would not be a moment too soon for me!”
“He,” Xander corrected.
“She,” Cordelia said, then turned to Angel with a confidential smile. “We decided not to find out what sex the baby is, even though I know it’s a girl. Maternal instinct, you know. My husband, on the other hand, insists on his little fantasy of having a son.” Angel grinned back at her.
“I’m sure it’s a girl, if you think so,” he said. Cordy smiled triumphantly at Xander.
“See?” He glared, but didn’t say anything. There was a momentary silence and then the band started up a slow song and Angel turned to Buffy.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked. She looked into his eyes, and suddenly did. Very much. She nodded and slipped off her bench. He took her hand and led her out to the dance floor.
As if it had been ten hours and not ten years since they last danced, Buffy slipped her arms around his neck and looked up at him, love in her eyes. There were no words. They didn’t need them. Even after ten years, they didn’t need words. She spoke though, finally, tightening her arms around his neck.
“Why did you stay away for so long?” she asked, her voice rough.
“I told you. I thought it would be better,” Angel answered.
“Why did you stay away for so long and come back now?” she asked, despair in her voice.
“I had to,” he said. “I had to.” She was silent, looking up at him. Remembering the last time they had danced. When she had been determined to kill him. When they had danced and told each other everything they could to hurt each other. Buffy remembered those things. What he had told her; what she had said to him. Closed her eyes against the pain of those things. But that was the past. He was different. He was human. He was Angel; not Angelus, Angel. And there was Brian now. Buffy’s eyes opened and she looked up at him.
“I love him, you know,” she said quietly. He didn’t reply, but she could see the knowledge in his eyes. The pain. The resignation. “And I love you. You have to know. I love you too.” And because she couldn’t bear what she saw in his eyes, she closed hers and laid her head against his chest, wishing for something she didn’t know. Wishing for Angel. Wishing for Brian. Wishing for peace. But peace was not something that Slayer’s often got, and Buffy seemed to be unluckier about it than most.
It seemed she couldn’t even dance with one. Before the song was over Buffy felt Angel stiffen and she looked up to see Brian standing beside them.
“May I cut in?” he asked, the coldness in his voice for Angel and the pleading in his eyes for Buffy. Angel nodded and stepped away. Buffy cast a look at him, so he would know she loved him, and then turned to Brian, who looked more scared than he ever had facing vampires. She slid her arms around his neck, feeling the difference between the two men. The difference in height—Brian was taller—but also the difference in the way they felt, the way they held her. Angel held her as if she was the only thing anchoring him in the world, and as if she was meant always to be in his arms. Brian held her as if she was the most precious thing on the earth, and he must be very careful not to break her. She didn’t know—couldn’t know—which one was better. If one was.
“You still love him,” Brian said. It was not a question.
“I love YOU,” Buffy answered, knowing that she could not speak to Brian as she could to Angel. It was not an insult—she could tell Brian the truth. She had to. But not in the same way. Angel was . . . different. Not to be evaded.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Brian said quietly.
“It wasn’t a question. It was a statement,” Buffy corrected.
“A true statement?” She looked up at him—saw his heart in his eyes. Wished she could keep from hurting it, but she would not lie. Not to him. Not about this.
“A true statement. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you, Brian. I’m not going to just forget you because he reappears from the dead!” Buffy exclaimed. “We have a live. Together. You are my life. Angel . . . hasn’t been here for ten years.”
“But he’s here now,” Brian said, his voice bitter, though she knew that was only his attempt to fend off the fear. Fear that she would leave him for Angel. Only she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t leave Angel for him either. Even if she hadn’t seen Angel in ten years.
“He’s here now. And so are you. And so is Eythan—remember? He’s what we have to worry about right now. Once we defeat him . . . then we’ll talk about this. But right now I don’t have the energy, and we don’t have the time. Please, Bri? Just hold me for a little while. Let’s just dance,” Buffy said, her turn to plead with her eyes. He nodded, and Buffy laid her head against his chest as she had with Angel. Only, with Brian, her head didn’t fit quite the same way, tucked right under his chin like they were made for each other. But with Brian she didn’t have to think about a time when she had wanted to kill him. Except, maybe, when he was taking after Xander.