Title: Overheard

Summary:Angelus and Buffy are together. Will one overheard conversation be the death of their relationship or the start of something more? AU.

Author's Note: A short, two or three chapter fic that's been floating in my head for a little while. I needed to take a break from The Transfer and this was the perfect distraction. Read and review and I'll add the second part soon.

Acknowledgements: To AngstAddicted for being such a great reviewer and friend. And also for introducing me to the wonderful world of HPTR fanfiction. To my best friend Danny. "I'll steal you, Joanna." Lol. We rock.

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Angelus was in a good mood. Entirely too good of a mood, Spike thought as he looked up from painting his nails with black lacquer. He admired the shimmery wetness before looking back at Angelus who stood by the fire adjusting his shirt and humming an upbeat tune.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were smitten.”

Angelus frowned at Spike as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Smitten, William? What in the hell are you talking about?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed at the name “William” and he blew on his still drying nails. “You know what I mean. Your little slayer. You’ve been acting like a bigger poofter than normal since she’s been around. You’re smitten with her.”

Angelus turned to stare at Spike, and for a moment, Spike feared for his unlife. Angelus laughed, breaking the tension and slowing Spike’s undead pulse.

“Well of course I’ve been happy. The slayer’s one talented fuck.” He walked towards the nearby coffee table and picked up the half-empty bottle of Irish whiskey. “Smitten! Jus t when I think you’re not a complete dumbass, you prove me wrong.”

Spike glared at him and then turned at the sound of footsteps. Angelus dropped his bottle, shock and surprise evident on his face.

“Buffy.”

Angelus ran out the room, knocking over the table as he went. Spike walked over to the pile of broken glass and lifted the table. Examining the glass, he smiled.

“Drusilla!”

---

Buffy walked into the Mansion and headed towards Angelus’ study. She’d gotten through the cemeteries quickly and decided to surprise Angelus with a visit. Walking up to the door, she paused when she heard voices.

“…I’d say you were smitten,” said a distinct voice she recognized as Spike’s.

“Smitten, William? What in the hell are you talking about?” Angelus replied and I had to agree with him. What was Spike talking about?

Buffy inched closer to the door, wanting to hear more.

“You know what I mean,” Spike continued, “Your little slayer. You’ve been acting like a bigger poofter than normal since she’s been around. You’re smitten with her.”

Buffy took a step back, breathing deeply. Angelus was smitten with her? Well, she mused, He was kind of obsessive and a little overprotective. Well, more than a little. Maybe, maybe he is smitten with me.

She let the happy thoughts fill her as she listened to Angelus’ response.

“Well of course I’ve been happy. The slayer’s one talented fuck. Smitten! Jus t when I think you’re not a complete dumbass, you prove me wrong.”

Buffy stifled a cry. How could she have gotten her hopes up? Stupid, stupid, stupid? Why am I so fucking stupid?

Forcing herself not to break down in the hallways, she turned and ran. She could hear Angelus calling her name but she didn’t stop. As the tears began to fall, she ran out into the night.

---

“Buffy! Buffy!”

Angelus ran down the street, following Buffy’s scent. Fuck, why did he always have to get himself into one of these situations? Buffy. What was she thinking? Probably some girl crap, like “why doesn’t he love me?” or “am I not pretty enough?” Actually, no. Buffy wasn’t one of those retarded bimbos who thought love relied on someone’s beauty. Buffy was a breed all her own.

He continued to follow after her and barely noticed his surroundings. He could see her petite form in the distance and pushed himself faster. Running harder, he reached out towards her quickly approaching body. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her towards him.

“Let go of me,” she cried, her voice muffled by his shirt. He pulled her away from his body, keeping her in his tight embrace.

“No,” he stated, forcing her still even as she fought him.

“Let me go, asshole,” she said pulling harder until she could maneuver away from him. She spun so quickly that she tripped and hit her head on a tombstone. Rubbing her head, she looked up at Angelus through teary eyes.

He kneeled beside her. “Stupid wench, why the hell did you have to run here?”

“I’m sorry my direction skills aren’t as great as my fucking ones. I guess I better work on that,” she bit out bitterly, pulling from him as he tried to hold her. She crawled away and leaned against an identical tomb.

“Buff, about that. I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” he tried to apologize. Somehow the words seemed to be caught in his throat.

“Certainly didn’t seem like it to me. Spike and I really are dumbasses. I mean why would we think you even liked me? I’m just the whore of the hour. Is it fun fucking a slayer, Angelus? Am I really that good?”

He wanted to hit her. And kiss her, and fuck her, and hold her, and do a hundred thousand other things to her. She was so infuriating.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that Buff. You’re not that horrible to be around. And you’re not a whore,” he said as he slowly approached her. He couldn’t risk the chance of her running off again. Not when she was in a state like this. His eyes found the reddened bump on her forehead. And definitely not while she was injured.

“Oh that’s just great,” she snorted, rolling onto her side. “I’m not that bad to be around. I didn’t think I was bad to begin with. Strike 2 for you, Buffy. You can’t possibly get more idiotic. Oh wait, you can. How dare you compare yourself to a whore? At least they get paid for what they do. You, you give it out for free, slut.”

Angelus frowned. He didn’t like her like this. Sarcastic, self-pitying Buffy was not fun. He liked it when she smiled and was playful and…happy. The person she was acting like right now bothered him more than he liked.

“Buffy, stop it. Now,” he ordered as he picked her up against him.

“You’re not a whore, slut, or idiot. You’re amazing. A true queen among peasants. Do you think I’d choose you as my mate if it wasn’t so?”

Buffy twisted in his arms, looking at him questioningly through tear rimmed eyes, “What do you mean? Are you saying what I think…”

He knew he’d said too much already, but his mouth refused to stop forming words. It was like the messages from his brain couldn’t get to the muscles and all logical thought seemed to have left t he building.

“Buffy, I…”