Ten Years Hung Over

Author: SCWLC

Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, don’t own the song.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Ten years from now Buffy goes to visit Angel.

Timeline: Future fic. Also, Connor died when he went into that portal, I refuse to deal with ‘Stephen’.

Notes: This is my first attempt at smut. Please, I beg of you, be kind.

Feedback: Comments? Complaints? Questions? scwlc


May 10, 2012

Looking at the brunette behind the desk, Buffy was more grateful than ever that her Slayer constitution had kept her looking not a day over twenty, even though she was now in her thirties. It had been a long time since she and Cordelia had last seen one another, and time had not eased the mutual dislike between the two. If anything, Buffy knew that they hated each other more than ever.

But she wasn’t here about Cordelia, she was here about Angel.

//I woke up with a killer hangover Hope it was worth all this pain//

Three days earlier, Buffy had looked at the man she was planning to marry and had realised that she couldn’t go through with it. She had suffered for years in the process of getting past Angel, had done everything short of hypnosis to get him out of her mind. It had been during the rehearsal dinner that Buffy had realised she could never spend the rest of her life with Nathan.

The scene had been somewhat less than calm when she announced this. He had been hurt, and had hurt her back with all his might. She could only hope he would find someone who loved him back, and that she hadn’t permanently damaged him. She also hoped it was worth the emotional agony that had happened, and that was going to happen when she saw Angel again.

//(I'd do it all over again)//

Of course, if she had to choose between being there to see if Angel was willing to take her back or being married to a man she didn’t love, she would choose Angel every time.

Choosing Angel had been the cause of so many difficulties in its way though. Choosing him over Xander had hurt Xander, and he had never gotten over it. For years thereafter Buffy had to walk on eggshells around him to avoid hurting him. The choice had come at the cost of Giles’ unquestioning trust, as well as her mother’s. They had all sung and danced around the topic, preferring to dress it up nicely and only trot it out when necessary. Like a child, to be seen and not heard by the adults at a gathering.

//By the time the party was over Tequila was my claim to fame //

She had drowned her sorrows in work. First as a slayer, and later in the studio. She had become friends with Nathan because of both their workaholic natures. He had become an excuse to keep her mind off the gap left by Angel’s absence. It was as damaging an addiction as alcoholism. Buried under deadlines for shows, letting Nathan romance her through a shared vocation, it helped her forget for a while. Even her friends had found her denial a touch overboard.

//(I couldn't remember my name)//

Many times Willow had said, “Y’know Buffy, you’re just not the same girl I met in high school.”

She laughed, “Wills, we’ve all changed. I mean really. Would you have seen yourself in a relationship with someone like Tara back when we first met?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Willow fixed Buffy with a look, “You were so full of life and daring, what happened?” She gave the blonde a sad look.

Buffy sobered, glancing away, afraid to meet her friend’s eyes lest they reveal the truth. “We all have to grow up sometime Willow. Not everyone can afford youthful idealism.”

Willow’s lips thinned in mild irritation, “You used to grab the bull by the horns, Buffy. Now, you don’t even go out patrolling,” as Buffy opened her mouth to protest, Willow continued, “I know you keep in practice with Spike, and I know you still slay when necessary, and I know you were retired by the Powers or whatever. I also know you have insomnia and an addiction to sleeping pills because you’re not getting out.”

“I have a life now,” Buffy fixed Willow with a firm glare, “Isn’t that what you all want for me? A safe life? A normal life?” she stood up from the bench and looked down at her friend grimly, “Everyone has been telling me this is exactly what I need, and now that I have it, what? I go back to the delicate balancing act from high school?”

She had stormed off and Willow had apologised, but both knew Willow was right. She needed to hunt like she needed to breathe, and the only things keeping her from it were her relationship with Nathan, and sheer bullheadedness. She lived in denial about it for another year and a half.

Both knew Buffy was right as well. All her friends had repeatedly told her the only way for her to be happy and fulfilled was to have the normal life she did now, sleeping pills notwithstanding. Riley had been the first step. Dating Riley, she had found herself changing.

//I was dancing with Jake when I last saw my keys That was my first mistake 'Cause, what happened to me?//

Somehow, while she was with Riley, control of herself was handed over to her friends, and Buffy had snapped out of it ten years later, uncertain of how she wound up in New York engaged to a fellow photographer.

//I look down at my arm, baby And something's lookin' back at me//

Cordelia’s voice brought her out of her musings, “God! You haven’t changed. Are you planning to break his heart this time, or just kill him and be merciful?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Nice to see you too Cordelia. You haven’t changed a bit either.” Both women knew exactly what the other was saying. “Is Angel here or not?”

“He’s busy,” Cordelia replied flatly.

An eyebrow raised Buffy said, “Fine, then I’ll hang around until he’s done,” she pulled a book out of her purse, “Can I wait in the lobby, or should I sit in the courtyard?”

“You will get out of here before you hurt him again!” Cordelia was apparently done being civil, and grabbed Buffy’s arm, determined to manhandle the Slayer out the door. As she tugged, Buffy’s shirt moved, revealing the tattoo on her arm that was an exact replica of Angel’s. The gryphon seemed to smirk at the seer.

//And I cannot believe it//

“I can’t believe you!” she shouted, “What are you trying to do? Pretend you have undying devotion to him?”

//Oh my God!-- I woke up with a snake tattoo//

In point of fact, Buffy wasn’t entirely certain how that had ended up there herself. She had gotten completely sloshed one evening and woken up with a gryphon on her arm. Not that she would give Cordelia the satisfaction of knowing that. “I do.”

//Oh my God!-- and I think that my tongue's pierced, too//

Obviously she wasn’t going to be sane about this. Her mouth had disconnected from her brain. “Then where the hell were you when Connor died hunh? Where were you all these years Ms Big Shot Photographer?” Cordelia had every right to question Buffy’s love for Angel. “Haven’t you done enough to keep us apart?”

//Oh my God!-- Oh my God!//

‘Keep us apart?’ Cordelia thought Buffy had been actively trying to keep her and Angel apart for the past ten years? As though Angel and Cordy were actually a matched pair?

//It's the Sunday morning after And baby, who the hell are you?//

What had happened to the girl who had thought sleeping with a ‘corpse’ was disgusting? It seemed Buffy wasn’t the only person who’d changed. This woman bore virtually no resemblance beyond the physical to the Cordelia Buffy had known. She wasn’t simply nasty, she was bitter. As though she had taken all that nastiness and stored it away for years until it came bursting out to greet the Slayer. “Keep you apart? Since when did you decide you loved Angel?” Buffy demanded.

“When?” Cordelia glared at her, “I always loved him. He was just too hung up on you to notice anyone else!” She stormed around the desk and got right into Buffy’s face. “Every time I tried to make a move on him, there you were, hurting him!”

“Hurting him?” Buffy’s anger rose to match Cordelia’s, “First, I can think of a handful of times I hurt him, and you weren’t there for a single one!” Buffy knew that was going to come back and bite her in the ass the second it came out of her mouth. Still she plunged on, “Second, he was my boyfriend,” her voice became very sarcastic, “I’m sorry I wasn’t gonna let you poach on my territory. Third, I’m sorry-- No, wait. I’m not sorry he didn’t notice anyone but me.”

Cordelia looked positively apoplectic, and reminded Buffy sharply of the time she had taken Owen right out from underneath Queen C’s nose. There was indignation and anger at the loss of face, irritation that the ‘inferior’ competitor had won, but none of the sadness or hurt that Buffy had associated with seeing Angel with another woman.

//I remember yelling, "Hey, DJ!" "Jack the volume, I love this song!"//

“You always loved him?” Buffy sent a focussed gaze at Cordelia. “Then why don’t I see even a hint of upset on your face other than anger?” As she spoke her voice returned to conversational levels. “Why is it that when I saw Angel with Darla, Drusilla, you, or anyone else, I felt lonely and lost because I couldn’t give him whatever it they were giving him, but you just feel angry? Forgive me if I’m wrong Cordelia, but I recall you saying repeatedly that you felt sick of him after that time you two were stuck in the MacKenzie crypt. If you love him so much, how could you ever find yourself getting sick of him?”

That silenced Cordelia’s fury. “In point of fact,” Buffy continued, “I’m not getting woman scorned from you at all Cordy. I see someone who’s upset they lost. Not someone weeping over a lost love.” She circled the other woman, feeling pity for the first time in a long while for Cordelia. How could she mistake possessiveness for love? “When Angel and I were dating, I felt like I could never get enough of him. Any time apart felt like it was too much.”

//(And then it all gets hazy)//

“When I lost him it felt like the whole world just vanished.” Buffy’s eyes glazed over as she thought back to those horrible days after Angel was sent to Hell, the grim summer months when he left for LA, and the way she had felt when he came back and left to apologise for hitting her and for her mother’s funeral. “Everything that happened right after that . . . It’s like there’s a big blur in my mind,” she gave a bitter half smile, “I mean, I remember the events that happened, but it’s like remembering a TV show.”

There was more to it than that. Buffy knew that she had lost something when Angel left. It was more than just losing her soulmate. Amazing as it sounded, she had lost something more essential, more primal, in losing Angel.

//And my clothes are selling on e-bay//

He had been the one freaky thing in her freaky world that made sense. It was because he understood what being the Slayer meant to her. When he left, she had bartered herself as the Slayer, in return for being wholly herself as Happy California Sun Buffy. When she had truly needed to call on the power of the slayer it had been given grudgingly, and now . . .

//And I don't know what I'm gonna put on//

Now she had spent so long without that power she had no idea how to call on it again. Buffy had spent the past twelve years declaring the parts of her that were the Slayer to be ‘other’. She was not the Slayer any more, she was a normal person with unusually strong muscles, and an inability to sleep at night because of hunting dreams.

//(Where were my friends to save me?)//

Willow, Xander, Giles, Dawn, Riley, they had all stood by her. Demanding that she keep this innate viciousness under wraps. She had because they were her friends, and they only had her best interests at heart. Her best interests had included hiding who she was even from them.

//I blacked out I came to//

Angel had never asked that she play a part for him. His inner darkness played perfect counterpoint to hers, allowing both of them someone who understood. It had been that need for understanding that lead her to Spike. He had understood the darkness, and having been so long denied that understanding with Riley, Buffy had fallen into Spike’s arms without looking back, and had allowed the darkness to overtake her.

//And it's all such a blur//

Even as she had dragged herself from the pit she had dug for herself, she had simply swung the pendulum in the other direction. Instead of finding balance, she had moved from one extreme to another at dizzying speeds. Nathan was the other end of the spectrum from Spike. That’s why she had chosen him.

//Had a blast, I assume But I'm really not sure//

Now, as she sat on the sofa in the lobby of the Hyperion, Buffy found the memories of her years having a ‘normal life’ fading into insignificance. She could remember thinking she had never felt more alive than when she was taking pictures with Nathan, but now that seemed to be a lie. She had felt far more alive the night she crawled out of her grave than she had in the weeks leading up to her defunct wedding.

//Exactly where am I now, baby? Wake up and tell me your name 'Cause this is insane//

He was coming now. She could feel him approaching the hotel in the pit of her stomach. Why was she here? Who did she think she was trying to waltz into his life again? He was coming closer, and the only reason Buffy could think of not to bolt was that her legs seemed unable to carry her as far as the door.

Then Angel was walking in, unchanged, with two men trailing after him, and all three were covered in the unappealing mix caused by fighting slimy creatures and several vampires. They were joking, and Buffy felt sincerely out of place as she watched them. Then Angel noticed her. “Buffy?”

//Oh my God!-- I woke up with a snake tattoo//

“Hey,” she said. The tattoo was very visible, and Buffy could feel his eyes as they paused on the form he remembered. She tried to smile, failed horribly, and knew they all knew that she had failed. “I think we need to talk. After you shower. I remember chaos demon slime and vampire dust taking a while to wash out of the hair.”

He seemed about to say something, but simply nodded and headed for the stairs. The other two seemed about to question her, but Buffy sent a glare their way that set them scurrying. She sat down to contemplate in detail what she was going to say.

//Oh my God!-- and I think that my tongue's pierced, too//

When he came down the stairs, it was as though someone had nailed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. He stood there dressed in leather pants that hugged his legs like a second skin, and one of those crushed velvet shirts with several buttons unbuttoned, and he looked just lickable. She suppressed a whimper.

“So what did you want to talk about?” his face expressed nothing more than polite interest. This was nothing more than a business meeting for him.

She took a deep breath, released it, and said, “I . . . uh,” that wasn’t the way to start. “I found out some things recently, and I thought you should know about them,” Buffy said, resisting the urge to hurl herself at him and beg him to take her. Cordelia was in the room, after all.

He caught her sideways glance and jerked his head at the stairs, “Why don’t we talk in my room, okay?”

Buffy fought to keep breathing at the thought of being alone in a room with Angel.

//Oh my God!-- Oh my God!//

They walked into his room, and Buffy couldn’t help but notice how very much like him it was. Dark, with little hints of colour splashed here and there, it was exactly how she would have imagined he would decorate for himself. “So,” she said, turning to face him again.

“So,” was his only reply as he turned those dark and unreadable eyes on her.

Buffy began to pace, twisting her hands, instantly forgetting the speech she had prepared for him, as she moved up and down the length of the room. “I suppose I should just get on with it,” she chuckled uncomfortably, “I mean, it’ll be easier for both of us if I just say it right?” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could start. “No, don’t say anything. It took me two days to get it together enough to come here and talk to you, and if you interrupt I’ll lose my nerve.”

When he sat back, every gesture indicating he was awaiting her big announcement, Buffy blurted out the first half of her news, “Your soul is permanent!”

His eyes widened, and he got up from his chair, fixing her in place with a look. “When? How did you find out?”

“I was looking through some of Willow’s stuff, she had promised to lend me something for my wedding, y’know, ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’?” Something flashed in Angel’s eyes when Buffy mentioned her wedding, but she wasn’t sure what. “Anyhow, I ran into her notes on the curse, and I was kinda curious, so I read them.”

Angel looked both enlightened and furious, “She knew? She knew all this time that my soul was fixed and she didn’t tell me?” He shot a glare at Buffy, “If I ever find out that you knew-”

“Angel! I don’t think she knew. The only reason I found out, was because Nathan, my fiancee, has a friend who did his PhD on the Romany. She was helping me look, and read the two versions and pointed out the difference.” Buffy knew that Willow would never have hidden that. If only because her sense of self preservation was enough for her to want to reassure everyone there would be no return of Angelus.

Angel seemed to become more perturbed after that, and Buffy couldn’t imagine why. “So you came here to give me the news in person,” he gave her a sad smile, “Thank you.”

//It's the Sunday morning after//

“Actually,” she said, “That’s not the only reason I came.” Buffy began to play with her hands, and started to look at anywhere but him. The floor was most interesting though. “So,” she sighed, bit her lip, and started to pace the room, “You and Cordelia hunh?”

The look on his face was pure and utter bafflement. “Me and Cordelia what?”

“Well, she hinted you guys were really close,” Buffy glanced nervously around the room, giving herself something to do, “And I don’t wanna get in the middle of anything.”

//And baby, who the hell are you?//

He looked at her as though she were crazy, “Cordelia is like a younger sister to me. Nothing more. What could possibly give you the idea I felt anything for her other than friendship?” He crossed his arms, clearly waiting for her to explain.

“I just . . .” Buffy trailed off and took a deep breath, all too mindful of the fact that he had shown no emotions toward her other than a friendly interest. He was just as unreadable as he had been back in Sunnydale. “Nevermind. The reason I came is that I looked at Nathan the other day and realised . . . “ She stopped.

Angel smiled encouragingly, and Buffy felt her knees turn to jelly with the breathtaking sexiness that was Angel. “Realised what?”

“That I still love you, and I can’t do this without you anymore.”

He leaned back, his eyes hooded, and he said, “You . . . Love me.”

What little confidence she had left drained away and Buffy shrank into herself. “But you don’t, and I’ll just leave so you never have to see me again,” she gave a slightly hysterical laugh, “I don’t know why I thought you would still love me after everything-”

That was when he launched himself across the room and slammed her into the wall.

//Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!//

Suddenly he was kissing her as fervently as he ever had when they made out on patrol. Each kiss was hot, openmouthed, and they became increasingly fevered as the moments ticked by. When he finally took note of her need to breathe, switching to kissing along her collarbone and neck, Buffy gasped, “Angel, what-”

He shushed her as his hands slid underneath the hem of her shirt, and Buffy heard herself moaning. She grasped his shoulders, hitching herself up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Angel adjusted his grip to compensate, and began to grind his burgeoning erection into her.

“Oh God, Buffy,” he groaned into her ear when she ground back.

//My alter ego took over and took me on a fantasy ride//

He pulled away from the wall and staggered over to his bed, tripped, and landed atop her. Buffy took advantage of his brief daze to roll them so she was on top, and swiftly unbuttoned his pants, yanking them and his boxers down. Angel complied immediately, but she found herself in a struggle with his boots, having forgotten their presence when she started to strip him.

The moment his pants were off, Angel tugged Buffy back up and began to undress her. She tugged her shirt and bra off to hasten the process, while Angel kissed and nibbled his leisurely way down her legs to her feet and back up again. By the time he’d reached her breasts, Buffy was vibrating with impatience.

This was what she had been missing with all the men in her life since Angel. Not one had ever made her tremble with the sheer force of her need for him. She started to whimper his name over and over as he laved her nipples with his tongue, kissing over the curves of her breasts, and making up for the neglect of his mouth by tweaking the other with his fingers.

Her hands rhythmically clenched and unclenched as she lay back on the sheets, her legs tangled with his as he teased her by grinding his erection against her soaking pussy. Each time her hips bucked up in a vain attempt to sheathe him inside her, he moved away.

//(Took me on a ride)//

She soon had enough of being teased and went in for vengeance. She rolled them again, unbuttoning his velvet shirt, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed. Now it was Angel’s turn to whine helplessly in pleasure as she paused to playfully suck on his pebbled nipples. “Buffy,” he moaned.

Eventually though, his shirt was off, and Buffy leaned forward to kiss him. For a moment the atmosphere cooled and the lovers’ eyes locked.

//You can take me anywhere twice But the second time will be to apologize//

In that moment, a thousand words passed between them. Statements of undying love, promises of faith and faithfulness, and apologies for all the past wrongs and the years lost through misunderstandings on both sides. Tears filled the eyes of both as they silently vowed eternal devotion and love to one another.

Buffy laced her fingers through Angel’s and achingly slowly slid him into her. They sighed together at the feeling of completeness neither had ever felt with anyone else. Then they began to move, and the touching moment was broken.

Soon the air was full of the moans, groans and whimpers of the two as they mated furiously. Time enough later for a long drawn-out session of lovemaking. It had been too long, their need was too raw for anything other than the uncontrolled thrusts that no human could ever match. Buffy rode Angel with the desperate need to reach her climax. She needed to reach that peak to wash away the other lovers both had taken over the years.

Then his hand slid off her hip, and moved around to caress, and then firmly press down on her clit. Buffy came with a shriek, aware that Angel had come simultaneously shouting her name as he bucked upward.

They settled down together in Angel’s bed, and he had the presence of mind to pull the covers up before they both fell asleep. The first time in years Buffy had slept without either being in a state of utter exhaustion, or knocking back far too many sleeping pills.

//Oh my God!-- I woke up with a snake tattoo//

When she woke Angel was tracing the tattoo on her arm. “When did you get this?”

“Oh God,” Buffy flushed and tried to bury her head under his arm, but he simply made her look him in the eye, raising an eyebrow at her response, “It was two years ago. A friend of mine had a bachelorette party and I got totally drunk,” she chuckled, extremely embarrassed, “When I woke up the next morning Willow told me that we had played Truth or Dare, and I was dared to get a tattoo.”

He leaned down and kissed the ink marks, making her shiver with renewed want. “I like it. It’s almost as though you’re marked as mine.” Angel’s smile was no longer something that hinted at the possibilities, but promised them.

//Oh my God!-- and I think that my tongue's pierced, too//

“Maybe, but your bite mark does.” She nearly kicked herself for destroying the mood when he instantly stopped doing those delicious things with his mouth and pulled back to look at her soberly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He glanced away from her and Buffy knew they had to deal with this before it became an issue.

She sat up, forcing him to do so as well, and cupped his face in her hands, “I’m not. It marks me as yours in a way no stupid tattoo ever could. I am happy I have it. Do you know how comforting it is for me to know I will always have this piece of you with me?”

He pulled away from her again, guilt apparent in his eyes, as well as self-loathing. “Yeah. You have a constant reminder of the demon that-”

Buffy grabbed his chin and brought his head around, “Is that what you see when you look at me? Disgust? Anger?” Buffy snorted, “The only time I’m disgusted with you is when you assume that somehow I only love a part of you,” she fixed a glare on him, “I. Love. You.”

“But-” he started to protest, but she silenced him.

“You will not say another word about how you are not worthy, or that I deserve better, or whatever other self-sacrificing crap you can come up with. You get that?”

When he was sure she wasn’t going to silence him merely for trying to speak, Angel leaned toward her and smiled. Buffy’s heartbeat sped up as his lips curved upward and he said, “Got it.”

//Oh my God!-- Oh my God!//

Then they were kissing again, and Buffy decided that he had most definitely got it. His lips moved down again, and she found herself on the receiving end of something she’d only read about in romance novels. That was the last complete thought she had for the next six hours.

//It's the Sunday morning after And baby, who the hell are you?//

The next day Buffy was woken by the shrilling of her cell phone, “Hello?”

“Buffy? Where have you been?” Willow.

“Wills? What time is it?” she asked.

Her friend was (understandably) irritated, “It’s one in the damn afternoon here! What about where you are?”

//Oh my God!-- I woke up with a snake tattoo Oh my God!-- and I think that my tongue's pierced, too//

Buffy was grinning like a loon, and somehow it must have transmitted over the phone when she said, “About ten AM.”

“What the hell are you doing in LA?” Willow demanded.

“Waking up next to a gorgeous man with a tattoo that matches mine,” then it occurred to her, “How did you know I was in LA?”

Willow sighed in exasperation, “Where else on the West coast would you be?”


“You’re three hours behind us,” Willow explained flatly, “What are you thinking sleeping with Angel? Is this some sort of pre-wedding panic thing for you?”

//Oh my God!-- Oh my God!//

As her best friend’s words seeped into her consciousness Buffy giggled, “No, I simply realised that I don’t love Nathan, I do love Angel, and since his soul is permanent we made love all of yesterday.”

//It's the Sunday morning after And baby, who the hell are you?//

Her cheeky reply had Willow making those little half words of pure shock when a thousand questions need to be asked, but not a one is coherent. As Willow sputtered, Buffy calmly hung up and snuggled back down with Angel. His arm snaked out from under the covers and pulled her firmly against him.

“Maybe you should have said more to Willow,” he murmured in her ear.

She shrugged, “Meh. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.” Then there was more kissing and the questions she had put aside so many years ago faded again for a while in favour of focussing on her lover’s skilled hands.

//Where am I...?, What am I...?, Who am I...?, How am I...?, How did I...?...//

The End

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