Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Joss Whedon and anyone else who owns rights to them. This story is non-profitable, it's just for fun
Author's Notes: This takes place at the end of "What's My Line part 2." Buffy is tending to Angel's wounds. I crave feedback. It makes me wanna write more. *hint hint*
Distribution: My site, http://gethzerion.tripod.com/index.html. Anyone else, please ask first. I'll probably say yes...
Thank you: To everyone who sent me all that awesome feedback for the my other stories. It is greatly appreciated, and it's what makes me wanna write more. Keep it up! And of course, to my biggest fan, Jes.
"I am sure he will be alright," Kendra assured.
"Yeah," Buffy answered as she and Kendra dragged an almost unconscious Angel through his apartment door. They walked a few more steps and set him down as gently as the could on his bed. Immediately, he let out a groan and closed his eyes, falling asleep. Buffy smiled as she accommodated his body to the length of the bed.
"He has some pretty bad wounds," Kendra muttered. "I know some first aid. I could help you..."
But Buffy was already shaking her head. "No, it's okay. You go on ahead with Giles and do whatever it is you're supposed to. I can handle this."
Kendra glanced at Angel again and then at Buffy. Finally, she nodded and started her way toward the door. "If you need anything..." she started.
"I'll know where to find you," Buffy finished. "Thank you." She glanced at Kendra's shirt's torn sleeve. "And remind me to look through my closet and see if any of my shirts will fit you."
Despite herself, Kendra smiled. "Will do."
With that, she turned and made her way out the apartment. Buffy sighed and turned to look at her wounded boyfriend. He had finally fallen asleep; his eyes were closed and, since he didn't breathe, he looked dead. Buffy smiled fondly at him and before she realized it, she had started walking around the apartment, looking around at the art work and books he had. She had only been here before once and for only several minutes. Now she stared about her, amazed at the beautiful, dark taste she had never known Angel had.
Curiously, she opened a drawer on a desk several yards from the bed. Noticing a tall stack of papers, she reached down and picked them up. Surprised, she stared at the picture on top.
It was a drawing of her.
She blinked, her eyes widening. Hurriedly, she lifted that drawing to find a drawing of her along with Xander and Willow. She knew it had to be from a picture of them that she had given Angel not long ago. With a smile, she lifted that one and to reveal a drawing of a smiling Buffy and Willow. As she kept going further down the pile, she noticed the drawings got older. Now she was getting to some drawings of Darla and Drusilla.
When she lifted the last drawing of Darla, she gasped in surprise.
She was now staring at a self portrait of Angel himself. He had long hair that was loose around his shoulders and wore a serious expression, even though his eyes seemed to sparkle with laughter just waiting to come out. She lifted that drawing and found several more of people she didn't know.
"Going through my stuff?"
Buffy jumped, startled at the sudden noise in the quiet apartment. "Angel," she breathed. "You're awake."
Angel smiled, or tried to smile, and struggled to sit up. Buffy dropped the drawings on the desk and rushed to his side.
"No, no, no," she said, pushing him back down gently. "No sitting up. You stay there."
"I'm fine," he protested.
Buffy raised an eyebrow, her eyes traveling down to his bare, badly burned chest pointedly. "You don't look or sound fine. Now stay. Do you have a first aid kit?"
"I'm not a dog, Buffy," he muttered as he pointed at the bathroom. "And yeah, inside the cabinet."
She giggled and kissed his cheek before going to the bathroom.
"I didn't know you could draw," she commented, her voice muffled by the fact that her head was inside the cabinet.
Angel shrugged, immediately regretting it as he felt the pain on his shoulders and chest. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he replied.
Buffy pulled her head out and closed the cabinet, then made her way back to his bed. "You'll get no argument from me," she muttered.
She sat down next to him and examined the burns on his chest. "Holy water?" she asked and winced when he nodded. "What'd they want you for, anyway?"
"Blood of the sire," Angel answered and held his metaphorical breath as he saw Buffy take out some medicine for the burns. "They wanted..." he hissed as Buffy started applying the cream, "Dru's strength back."
"One of the downsides of bringing across an insane woman and her Billy Idol wannabe boyfriend," Buffy muttered. "I'm gonna let this sit for a while. Then I have to dress it."
Angel smiled. "Are you that into fashion...?"
Buffy slapped his arm slightly and he hissed in pain. "Oh, sorry," she said. "Sorry..."
"It's okay," Angel assured. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "It's a hobby."
Buffy frowned. "You like to drive people insane as a hobby?"
"I used to," Angel said. "But I was referring to drawing."
"Oh!" Buffy said. "You drew me."
If Angel could've blushed, he would've. "It's from some pictures you gave me some time ago. Though I'd love to draw the real thing sometime."
Buffy smiled and nodded. "I'd like that," she said and then glanced at his chest again. "But first you're gonna heal."
"You gonna be my nurse?" he asked playfully.
"Oh, yeah," Buffy said with a grin.
Suddenly, Angel pointed to the drawings. "Bring them over here."
With a final glance at him, she stood up a walked several steps toward the drawings. She grabbed them and brought them back.
"Bet you're curious as to who they are," Angel said pointing at the last several drawings.
"A little, yeah," Buffy admitted.
Angel was about to lift the self portrait when she stopped him and pointed at his hair. "Very nice fashion statement," she commented dryly.
Angel laughed; Buffy knew that was one of the few times she had ever really heard him laugh and she decided she loved the sound. It was like music. "It was common to have it like that back then," he explained. "You'd uh, freak, at the things we wore."
Buffy laughed and nodded. "I've seen pictures."
He lifted the self portrait to reveal a picture of a beautiful woman with long hair. "This was my mother," Angel answered her unspoken question quietly.
Buffy stared at the black and white sketch of the woman. She couldn't tell what color her hair or eyes were, but she could definately see the love Angel had had for the woman by the way the lines were so carefully drawn. Her hair was waist-length and she was wiping her hands on a seemingly dirty apron, which she wore over a long dress.
"She was beautiful," Buffy commented in awe. "You looked up to her?"
Angel nodded. "She was there for me," he answered simply. Buffy could tell he was still not ready to talk about his life as a human and she respected that.
Finally, he lifted the last several drawings. They were mostly of his parents, grandparents, and siblings. He made several comments on the drawings, but never offered much explanation. He set them down on his bedside table and turned to Buffy again.
"So, now you know a little more about me," he said.
Buffy nodded. "I'd love to know more..." Angel opened his mouth to comment, so she continued, "but I'm not pushing. When you're ready to talk, you'll talk."
Angel smiled gratefully. A smile the quickly turned into a frown as he saw Buffy start to resume her job as nurse. "Buffy, really, I can heal on my own. I don't need..."
"Oh, you enjoy it," Buffy interrupted. "Now c'mon. Be a good vampire and let the Slayer dress your wounds."
Angel sighed and leaned back to let her finish dressing his wounds. Once she was done, she turned to him and gave him a pat on the head. "See? That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" she said. "You'll get a lollipop for good behavior later."
With a grin, he reached out and grabbed her hand. He brought her closer and kissed her lightly on her lips. She sighed into his mouth and deepened the kiss hungrily. Finally, respecting her need to breathe, he pulled back.
"I think I like that better than a lollipop," he murmured huskily.
"You'll get no argument from me," she replied in a whisper.
He pulled her down again, and she carelessly let her hand drape to his chest. When he let out another hiss of pain, she pulled back hastily with an apology.
"You know what?" she said. "If I stay here, I'll just kill you. I'll let you get your rest and go back to the gang. They'll probably be wondering how everything is."
Angel nodded. "You'll come back later, right?"
"Of course. Doctor's orders."
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