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[Beg me and I’ll think about it]
It’s a Christmas tradition she hasn’t indulged in for several years. It’s a Wonderful Life is on the television, she’s got a glass of eggnog and the tree is almost decorated. She tilts her head up, looking at the top of the tree.
“What do you think, Buffy? Angel on top this year?”
Her throat seizes up, air trapped inside of her. She closes her eyes, tears trickling out the corners. “Mommy?” She’s afraid to turn around, afraid to move or breathe or let her heart beat.
“Say yes. Please say yes.”
The fear and hope turn to anger and she can breathe again. She turns on her heel and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Beg me and I’ll think about it.”
“I don’t beg for anyone, Buff.”
She shrugs, rolling it off her back as she’s taking stock of her surroundings. She knows there’s a stake under the couch cushions a few feet away. “Sorry but I’m going with Cop on top this year.”
Angelus is reclining against the doorframe, a cocky smirk on his face. He’s got his arms cross over his chest and one ankle draped casually across the other. “And that’s exactly why I’m here.”
“Go back to LA, Angelus. Maybe if you’re lucky, I won’t chase you,” Buffy responds. Her mind is clicking at a hundred miles an hour. She needs to call Willow and let her know. She needs to check on Lucy and Jill. She needs to call Giles and Dawn and everyone else that he can possibly use against her.
“What are you going to do, Buffy? Kick my ass?” Angelus laughs. “You won’t kill me. You can’t kill me because killing me gets rid of any hope you’ve got of getting Angel back. And you’re a hopeful girl, Buff.”
She bites back her words knowing that she can’t argue with him. Angelus is almost always truthful. It is what makes everything he says hurt so much. “I’m not the seventeen year old girl I used to be,” she says in a voice that is more broken than she wants to confess.
“Nope. You’re all grown up and I made you that way,” he leers at her as he slides from his perch against the door frame and slips up to the Christmas tree. He flicks a bell with his finger, tilting his head to listen to the sound it makes.
Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings
The stupid movie is even playing along and that makes his grin a little wider. “I may get my wings yet,” he winks at her and starts for the door.
“And don’t be too confident about that Cop on top deal. It may be angels after all.”
*-*
It is the momentum of the ball of her foot pressing off the floor, preparing her for a lunge that wakes her; muscles coiled, tense and ready to strike but her opponent only exists in a dream world, leaving her frustrated and confused. Buffy rakes her fingers through her hair then grasps almost blindly for her cell phone on the coffee table. Danny is out late working a case and she knows he can’t talk but she’s worried nonetheless. Text messages make checking on her people so much easier than it ever was in Sunnydale.
She can’t get rid of the chills that run marathons up and down her spine but slaying relieves some of the restlessness. It lets her feel like she’s on top of her game and if she stops by the crime scene to stalk a little bit…well maybe it’ll make both of them feel better.
It’s a Christmas tradition she hasn’t indulged in for several years. It’s a Wonderful Life is on the television, she’s got a glass of eggnog and the tree is almost decorated. She tilts her head up, looking at the top of the tree.
“What do you think, Buffy? Angel on top this year?”
Her throat seizes up, air trapped inside of her. She closes her eyes, tears trickling out the corners. “Mommy?” She’s afraid to turn around, afraid to move or breathe or let her heart beat.
“Say yes. Please say yes.”
The fear and hope turn to anger and she can breathe again. She turns on her heel and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Beg me and I’ll think about it.”
“I don’t beg for anyone, Buff.”
She shrugs, rolling it off her back as she’s taking stock of her surroundings. She knows there’s a stake under the couch cushions a few feet away. “Sorry but I’m going with Cop on top this year.”
Angelus is reclining against the doorframe, a cocky smirk on his face. He’s got his arms cross over his chest and one ankle draped casually across the other. “And that’s exactly why I’m here.”
“Go back to LA, Angelus. Maybe if you’re lucky, I won’t chase you,” Buffy responds. Her mind is clicking at a hundred miles an hour. She needs to call Willow and let her know. She needs to check on Lucy and Jill. She needs to call Giles and Dawn and everyone else that he can possibly use against her.
“What are you going to do, Buffy? Kick my ass?” Angelus laughs. “You won’t kill me. You can’t kill me because killing me gets rid of any hope you’ve got of getting Angel back. And you’re a hopeful girl, Buff.”
She bites back her words knowing that she can’t argue with him. Angelus is almost always truthful. It is what makes everything he says hurt so much. “I’m not the seventeen year old girl I used to be,” she says in a voice that is more broken than she wants to confess.
“Nope. You’re all grown up and I made you that way,” he leers at her as he slides from his perch against the door frame and slips up to the Christmas tree. He flicks a bell with his finger, tilting his head to listen to the sound it makes.
Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings
The stupid movie is even playing along and that makes his grin a little wider. “I may get my wings yet,” he winks at her and starts for the door.
“And don’t be too confident about that Cop on top deal. It may be angels after all.”
*-*
It is the momentum of the ball of her foot pressing off the floor, preparing her for a lunge that wakes her; muscles coiled, tense and ready to strike but her opponent only exists in a dream world, leaving her frustrated and confused. Buffy rakes her fingers through her hair then grasps almost blindly for her cell phone on the coffee table. Danny is out late working a case and she knows he can’t talk but she’s worried nonetheless. Text messages make checking on her people so much easier than it ever was in Sunnydale.
U OK?
Y OK there?
Y B Careful on ur way home.
U sure u ok?
Y bad dream. Going slaying. ILU
She can’t get rid of the chills that run marathons up and down her spine but slaying relieves some of the restlessness. It lets her feel like she’s on top of her game and if she stops by the crime scene to stalk a little bit…well maybe it’ll make both of them feel better.
