It’s All Coming Back To Me pt 4

Part the last. Thanks to everyone who commented. I haven’t written much lately, and it’s encouraging when people say they like it. (Not that you shouldn’t say anything if you have quibbles.) 

For the first time, they walked together through a sunny park. Side by side, engrossed in their conversation, they might have seen each other yesterday.

“So, Willow mostly works with the Coven. But she also runs the Council database. Took her forever to set it up again after the crash of 2011.”

“I’m guessing she used a little of her mojo for that one.”

“And Xander worked with us for a while, but now he runs his own construction firm. I’m proud of him.”

“What about Faith?”

“I don’t know. Last I heard she was still with Robin, but that was years ago. We really didn’t keep in touch after what happened. I guess she’s out Slaying on her own.”

“I hated her for what she did to you, you know.”

“Hmm…” Buffy almost brought her thumb and forefinger together. “Me too. Little bit.” Her hand dropped to her side. “Old news.”

Unconsciously her hand was now in his, their fingers entwined. “This park is a lot nicer than the places we used to walk. Not that cemeteries don’t have their charms.”

“My crypt suited me, at the time. It was actually nicer than the hovel I lived in when I was working with Angel.” They squeezed each other’s fingers at the mention of his name.

“We had a service, you know. Once we realized what he was really doing. Not just for him, but for you, and Charles Gunn. And Wesley.”

“He would have liked that. There was a lot of Catholic left in him.”

“You can imagine how surprised I was when his son showed up. He had a grown son. Nice kid, but geez. And his girlfriend.”

“Nina?”

“See? Everyone knew more about Angel than I did. I thought we were close, but I guess I imagined it.”

“He always loved you.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t the same. He’d moved on. I tried to, but you were in the process of burning up at the time. So you didn’t believe me. And you never came back.”

“I’m sorry.”

They crossed a footbridge over a brook. She leaned against the rail, watching the rivulets of water cascading over the rocks. “That’s really, really pretty.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” But he wasn’t looking at the brook. He embraced her from behind and she spun in his arms, looking up into his eyes. And they were closed and hers were closed and his lips were on hers and it tasted sweet and felt soft and warm but still him. They still fit.

“I have a plan,” she finally said. “I think we should go to my hotel.”

“I’m tempted,” he answered.

She held him even closer. “I can tell.”

“But no.”

Her forehead crinkled in the old familiar way. “Why not?”

“Why not is because I have to go to work soon. That’s the first reason. The second is, and this is the more important one, I’m not getting involved with you again unless it matters. I think it does. I know it does, to me. But it’s not just you and me any more. I need to know if we start something, that Angela is okay with it too. She’s been through enough.”

“And so have you.”

“And so have I. So this is the plan. You’re going to go back to your hotel, call Ariane, and tell her all about me. Which I suspect you would have done anyway. Then,” he pulled out a business card and pen, and wrote on the back, “you’re going to call me at this number, and tomorrow night you’re coming to my house for dinner.”

“I like my plan better.” She tucked the card into her bag. “What if Angela doesn’t approve of me?”

“Are you kidding? She’s a more persistent match-maker than Ariane. She’ll be thrilled.”

“And if dinner’s a hit?”

“Then the ball’s in your court. Because I’m here, and this is where my life is. But I can tell you, Buffy, that I still love you. And if you feel any of that, I think this is the start of something real.”

“Does any of that involve ripping each other’s clothes off?”

“Oh, yes.”

She kissed him again. “Personally, I liked my plan better. When did you become Mr. Self-Restraint and Maturity?”

“When I finally grew up.”

“Hmft. So tell me, Mr. Policeman, didn’t you think it was odd when Mark said you were being fixed up with his friend Buffy?”

“He said Buffy Smythe-Jones. I was picturing some prep-school graduate bint.”

“It’s Summers again.”

“Good. I like that much better.”

*****

“Hi, Ariane? It’s Buffy. I owe you. Big time.”

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/211376.html