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Disclaimer: I don't own them...I wish I did! They belong to Joss Whedon (who could really take a clue from this whole fic series), the WB, Fox, Mutant Enemy, and so on.
Author's Notes: The insanity deepens. Think "Angel" (the ep, not the show), without the vampireness. HID (Happiness Is Denial). Tell me how insane I am, or how much I corroborate your life views!
"Oh, wo–" In the midst of the exclamation Buffy sat straight up, her head colliding with that of the man leaning over her.
"Ow!" Angel cried, falling back and sitting down heavily on the floor. Buffy grimaced, rubbing her forehead.
"What were you doing?" she snapped, still feeling unsettled from her dream.
"You were whimpering. I was about to wake you up," he muttered, sullenly rubbing his head in turn. Buffy winced.
"Oh. I was having a bad dre–you’re a vampire!" she shouted, then realized her mother was in the house and clamped a hand over her mouth, glaring at Angel, who was looking singularly confused.
"A vampire? What gave you that idea?" he asked, arching his eyebrows. Buffy held back a sigh. Why did he have to be so gorgeous?
"I-I guess you might not be. But I’ve had these prophecy dreams, and well, none of them have come true yet, but they probably will, and this one seemed so real–"
"What exactly happened?" Angel asked, standing up. She scooted over so he could sit on the bed beside her. She eyed him warily, looking for signs of vampireness.
"Well, I woke up and went to school, and when I came home I thought you’d read my diary…and well, you said you were older and we…we killed, and you got vamp face! And then you leapt out the window! And I thought you hurt my mother, but it was really Darla, and I found out you’d been cursed and you had a soul, but we still couldn’t–" Buffy broke off, meeting his eyes. She could still feel his lips, the hopelessness of their situation…still see his eyes glowing yellow.
Suddenly throwing off the covers, Buffy grabbed Angel and yanked him towards the window. She threw open the curtains before he could move. Warm sunlight poured over them. Angel blinked once, then turned his dark eyes on her and gave her a half-smile. She melted.
"Well, I guess it was just a dream then," she murmured, unable to break her eyes away from his.
"Definitely," he agreed. "I can assure you I am not nor have I ever been, a vampire." Buffy nodded.
"Okay." She realized she still had a hand on his shoulder from pulling him over–and that he had taken off his shirt. She snatched her hand away, swallowing back the feeling of his silky skin and just perfectly developed muscles.
Despite her valiant effort, Buffy felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She put a hand to her hair, wondering how utterly horrid she looked.
"Sorry about the whole thinking you were a vampire thing," she offered.
"No problem." Buffy tore her eyes away and started to turn, but he stopped her.
"Buffy?"
"Yeah."
"Well, the part of the dream where I kissed you…was that the bad part?"
"Well I would say finding you to be a vampire was a little worse," Buffy joked. She glanced at his face and swallowed. "Not exactly."
"Oh."
"Oh. Why did you ask?" Buffy inquired, trying to sound casual.
"I’ve just been thinking about that," Angel said quietly. Buffy tried very hard to stand up straight.
"Really?" She moved infinitesimally closer and looked up at him through her lashes.
"Really," he murmured, his voice low and senual. Buffy met his eyes and moments later his mouth was on hers, sweet and achingly gentle. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and prayed she didn’t have morning breath as he deepened the kiss.
When Angel pulled away he was reassuringly human and gasping for breath. Their eyes locked and Buffy was very glad that his arms had found their way around her waist because standing seemed to be a miraculous thing.
"I am older," he said softly. Buffy managed a frown.
"How much older?" she demanded. He grinned.
"About eight years."
Buffy relaxed. "Okay, I can deal with that. My mother may be a different story though…not that we are anything my mom should know about or anything," Buffy stuttered, realizing what she was saying.
"Do you want to be?" Angel asked. Buffy felt her knees go weak again.
"Let me think about it," she whispered, before pulling his mouth down to hers again. When they separated she managed a silly grin. "Okay. I thought. I’m good for that."
"Good," Angel grinned, his eyes wickedly dark (but in a good wicked way, not an evil vampire wicked way).
"Good."
"Very good."