who. buffy, angel, and justice what. after hearing about the trading of souls, justice decides to go to angel's place and see if it's true. cue the battle drums. when. a few hours after the last buffy/angel scene where. angel's apartment locked to. angel and justice status. incomplete
Would things ever slow down? Would Buffy really ever get a chance to just stop? Stop, and actually breathe? For so long, it had been impossible to breathe. It didn't matter how many times Buffy inhaled, because it was never enough. Even when they had lived in Italy, she'd just been waiting for things to fall apart. The wind had carried whispers of tragedy and it had come in the form of a phonecall asking her to come to Cleveland. Since then, she'd just been drowning.
Tonight had been the first night in months, years even, that she felt like she could actually breathe again.
God, she was so exhausted. Bones and muscles ached alike, all begging for some sense of rest. But Buffy refused to sleep. That could come later. But here, with her arms around Angel, she didn't want to lose this moment for anything. Sometime after she had begged Angel not to leave, she'd convinced him to try and sleep. It had only taken a matter of minutes after they'd both lied down on his bed for Angel to fall asleep, his head angled at her chest, his ear just above the steady beating of her heart. One of his arms was draped over her body while one of her hands rested atop his own. Her free hand smoothed through dark, messy hair and she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of well-earned relief. Angel being here, resting in her arms, was nothing short of miraculous. He was so still. Statuesque, even. Where as most peoples' chests would rise and fall in a stable pattern, his was still. The only time Angel moved was when he would shift lightly. Sometimes, he'd mouth something but Buffy couldn't make out what he'd say.
Eventually, the struggle to keep her eyelids open became too much, and she felt herself begin to sink into her own slumber. Dark lashes fluttered and fell shut while her head lulled back against the pillows beneath it. It was the knock at the front door that kept her from falling asleep entirely. At first, Buffy almost ignored it. She didn't want to move, didn't want to think. No, she wanted to lie there and cherish what moments of peace they had, because even Buffy wasn't naive enough to think it would last long. But when the knock came again, Buffy sighed and as gently as she could, stood from the bed. Angel groaned and shifted, but didn't wake. Bare feet padded from the bedroom to the living room, and then to the door.
When the heavy, wooden door swung open, nothing could have prepared Buffy for who was on the other side. It shouldn't have surprised Buffy. After all, she was the only one who knew of Angel's return. "What the fuck are you doing he-" Before Justice could finish what she was going to say, Buffy felt her fist react. Before she could stop it ( not that she wanted to ), knuckles came in contact with the underside of Justice's jaw. She wasn't sorry. Justice deserved worse. And she was going to get it. Buffy knew this wouldn't end well for one of them, and as long as it was Justice, she was okay with that. Buffy wanted to hurt Justice like she had her, and she didn't care if it was wrong or right. She was so far past those trite concepts. Right and wrong, black and white -- none of it mattered.