Buffy's Diary
December 6, 1997

Timeline: The night Buffy visits Angel in Ted

Extra disclaimer: An entire scene from an episode of BTVS is included in this chapter. I did not write it, it is the property of Joss Whedon and all of the writers, actors and directors who work on the show. Lines I have borrowed from the episode are marked with an asterisk *

It really kind of hurts to have my friends standing up for Ted. They're not Slayers, they don't know what I mean when I say that I just know something is wrong with him. Where's Kendra when I need her? She'd probably just kill him on sight...but then, she doesn't have a Mom. Maybe I'm overreacting.

Nope. My spider sense is building a web.

Miniature golf. Ordinarily, I guess I just would have thought, why not? But I just didn't want to go anywhere with him. He makes me jumpy. What is it? Not just the Freudian-issue thing...there's something about the way he talks, like every word is measured, set up in a line like dominoes before he says them, and there's something overly dated in his vocabulary. People on Andy Griffith talk like him, but my Dad isn't even that bad. And there's something...dense about him, too solid, physically. He stands as if he weighs 400 pounds, even though he couldn't weigh over 350. Mean. No, NOT mean.

At least Angel's almost all better.

I went over after dinner. He'd put the lock on because he had to get up to let me in, but he picked me up in his arms and kissed me as he carried me in. He was even wearing a shirt, so his chest was all healed up. He set me down.

"Hi," he said. Why is it that I can never quite remember how pretty he is? His face changes in different light but he's always beautiful. Also, he looked so good, better than since Spike got him, and I loved seeing that. "Hi," I said, "You're better. You look great,"

He smiled and I thought about how I never tell him stuff like that, and I really should. I guess when someone is obviously beautiful you tend to think they know it and don't need to hear it, but it's not true. Angel can't see himself in a mirror anymore. It's really a shame.

"You look great, too," he said warmly, "How's your Mom?"

My heart sank a little. I didn't want to talk about Ted, but I did anyway. I got the bandages and started changing his hand. It was almost completely closed, but I wrapped it anyway. I will miss playing nursemaid. He was used to the routine by now, he was handing me tape strips so I could finish it up. I was talking about Ted, and I must have been yammering, because when I said, "I'm sorry if I don't want to talk about TED all the time,"*he interrupted me and said, "So, are you going to talk about something else at some point?"*

I really had been going on.

"I'm sorry,"* I said, "I just have so much to deal with, I don't need some new guy in my life,"*

"No,"* he said, handing me another strip of tape, "But maybe your Mom does,"*

True. I'm sure, really true.

"Well, sure,"* I said, "If you're gonna use wisdom,"*

He laughed. "Loneliness is about the scariest thing there is,"* he said, and I saw it on his face, he knew something about that.

"OK, so my Mom needs a guy in her life,"* I said, I was starting to pout but I couldn't help it, "Does it have to be TED?"*

"You have somebody else in mind? Is there a guy out there that would satisfy you?"* he asked.

"My Dad?"* I said, it was one of those things you don't even know you're going to say out loud, really. He looked at me with so much kindness in his eyes, he knew I was hurting, but he wasn't going to help me lie to myself.

"Yeah,"* I sighed, "OK, that's not going to happen. Fine, fine. I'll give TED a chance. I'll play mini golf and I'll smile and curtsey and be the dutiful daughter," I paused, thinking out loud again, but I looked at him, "Do I have to like him?"*

"Kiss me,"* he said sweetly, and a little rush went through me. I leaned over him.

"Finally something I wanna do,"* I said, and I kissed him. He wrapped his arms around me and twisted, rolling on top of me. His strength was almost all the way back, I could feel it. He'd be better in a day or two, totally. He slid his forearms under my head and kissed me and I felt myself heating up faster than I even usually do. It was exciting to feel the strength in him, and the craving in him. It was like I'd been away and he'd missed me. His kisses were hungry, he was dipping his tongue in my mouth in strong strokes and his fingers held my face, tilting my mouth to his, and I started to quiver. He tasted good, as always, and his mouth is satiny-smooth and cool and he teased me, taking little sections of my lips in his teeth and gliding his tongue along them. It was making me whine. I arched up so I could brush my chest against his. He stopped kissing me and looked at me, holding my face, his thumb caressing my lower lip. He looked so hungry, his eyes were hungry, and worried.

"Sometimes, I want you so badly-" he said.

"Me, too," I blurted.

"And I-" he stopped, he couldn't say it, and I sat up, leaning back against the arm of the couch. I reached for him and brought him up to me. He was up on his knees.

"Touch me," I said. He looked into my eyes and took my breasts in his hands. He'd never done that before, so directly like that, it surprised me and electricity shivered through me, quick and jagged. I said his name, loudly. I held his hands down with mine. He pushed his face into my chest and stayed like that for a while, shaking. I stroked my fingers through his thick, soft hair, I ran my hands over his neck and his shoulders.

"Angel, just touch me," His fingers moved over me in big, greedy caresses. He kissed me, sweeping his tongue over mine and sucking gently on my tongue. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down onto me; he was so hard I jumped, and I said, "Oooh,". I pulled him closer, crushing him onto me, and I moved down so I could rub against him.

"Buffy-Buffy-" he pulled back, sitting up. He looked at me from under his eyebrows, like an animal about to charge, it was a look almost like a warning. I pushed him onto his back and crawled up on top of him. I unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest between buttons. He was tense, his muscles jumped under my lips. His skin is rich and satiny, and he smelled like a strange spice, something I haven't tasted before. I kissed him all the way down to his belt. His stomach was rock-hard, it was like he wanted to bolt but couldn't get away. I pushed him back again, harder, because he was half sitting up.


"Shhh," I was thinking about the other night, about how beautiful he was under his clothes, about the salty, tingly taste, about him moaning in his sleep, and I was getting wet. I placed my hand on him, very gently, feeling how hard he was through his pants, and he gasped.

"BUFFY-" his voice was stern, but I didn't care. For one thing, it wasn't the first time, whether he knew that or not, and for another thing, I wanted to. I grasped him in my hand; it was nice, I liked having him in my hand again, it was almost possessive. He was making wonderful sounds. He throbbed and I stroked him, hopefully hard enough but not too hard. I wasn't going to totally assault him. I just kept up what I was doing, and I started kissing his chest again, taking mouthfuls of him, taking his nipples in my mouth, stroking him strongly, and listening to him moan. I wanted to get my hands on it for real, but I just felt like it wasn't the right time. I pulled down his zipper slowly, almost like I was sneaking, and he stopped my hand. I took his hand and put it down on the couch and kept on. He tried to stop me with both hands. I couldn't take his wrist in even one of my hands because they're too thick, but I grabbed his thumbs and pressed them into the cushions over his head, and after that there wasn't much he could do about it. I kissed him lower, dipping my tongue in his belly button, and I reached inside his pants. He was wearing silky feeling boxers, so I didn't go any further this time, I just started stroking him again, and the slippery material slid over him and I started speeding up my strokes and squeezing a little harder. I could feel the shape of him in my hand so much better, the thick length of him. I stroked up almost completely over the tip, letting my fingertips linger over it for just a second, then kept up my strokes, squeezed him. He started saying my name over and over, it was so beautiful...I kissed his belly lower and lower, I thought about what he tasted like, his skin tastes a little like almonds, but I was thinking again about how salty and creamy that one taste was, and I wondered what he would feel like in my mouth, and I looked up at him. He was watching me and the minute I looked at him he threw his head back and gritted his teeth and then he shouted and his hips drove upward, he couldn't help it. I was so happy, it felt wonderful to give him that. It's always been me. Now, for once, I pleased him. He was trembling and I wrapped myself around him and laid there with him. I sighed, a big, long sigh, and I started to understand how he could be so giving all the time. It was the best; I'd love to just grab him and make him happy whenever I felt like it. It was really sexy and really...satisfying.

"You'll never know how beautiful you are," I said.

He shuddered again. He stroked my hair, looking at my face, and he looked....fragile, vulnerable, and also relieved for some reason. I wrapped myself around him tight and held him for a long time. I rocked him. I was amazed by how intensely giddy I felt, I couldn't stop kissing him. He gave himself to me, that's what it is. He really opened up, he really trusted me. It really is an act of trust, when you think about it. It's such an intensely personal thing. If he had really wanted me to stop, I would have, and he knew it. He released himself with me. I didn't know how that would make me feel, I felt warm and light and....high, or something. I've never actually been high, but I bet it's not as good as that. It couldn't be. Nothing else in the world is that good. Well, maybe some things...and I'm a DOG. I can't believe the way I'm starting to think about him. Guys are supposed to have a sexual thought every few seconds, so I think I must be the only girl who's playing co-ed on that field.

Speaking of which, tomorrow I have to "swing the iron with the old people". How am I going to pretend to give Ted a chance when I know there's something up? I'm always on edge around him and I know I can't hide it. Maybe I'll just try to keep my mind off it.

At least I have something good to think about.