Still His Girl

A fic by: Angel's blue eyed girl

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own none of the characters from Bones or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Pairing: Seeley Booth and Buffy Summers

Summary: This is an AR fic that takes place during and after 'A Girl in the Gator' of 'Bones' for the most part. Also, as always in my fics—there is a *SMUT WARNING* here.

A/N: Thank you to Amber for beta reading this and encouraging me to write this. You're the best and I adore you, babe!

A/N 2: Okay guys, I know-I know…I have WAY too many fics that are being neglected to start a new fic, but musie wants what she wants and this idea of Booth & Buffy just won't go away. It just won't! I was reading some Booth/Buffy fics and I just kept thinking—I can do that better…make it more Buffy, you know?? So, musie got on her tangent, and she wouldn't stop until I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it, and PLEASE don't lynch me for posting this before SC's or Wish, okay??





Rome 2004.

He was dead. She known it of course—had felt it when she'd awoken a week ago screaming his name, but hearing it confirmed was too much, and she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the reality that he was really gone. Angel couldn't die—he was supposed to live forever—at least outlive her, yet here she was listening to Spike explain how he 'went down like a champion' slaying a dragon of all things! Buffy really didn't give a shit if he was slaying twenty dragons—he wasn't supposed to die. She was done baking, and he was supposed to be here to enjoy her Buffy cookies.

She was sickeningly aware at how lame that sounded now. Hindsight—it may be twenty/twenty, but it was also a bitch. If only she'd known they had so little time left…she'd have told him how much she still loved him. She'd have taken that time and ran with it. God, she'd been a fool. Now it was too late. He was lost to her.

Spike was still talking, but she was no longer listening—hadn't really paid attention after 'he went down like a champion' truthfully.

"Spike can we talk later?" she asked, as the hole in her heart seemed to rip open spilling forth a flood of raw anguish. She glanced down at her chest almost expecting to see a gaping wound there. "I-I just need to…deal. Alone." She stood up abruptly, and her chair tipped over. The sound of the wood crashing to the floor was loud in the silence and suddenly the tears she'd been fighting ever since Spike had uttered those three words, 'he was dead' overflowed and Buffy couldn't hold back her misery anymore. "Why didn't you do something?" she cried. "Why did you let him die?" She realized her anger at Spike was irrational, but that didn't stop her from lashing out at him. "Why couldn't it have been you?!" Dawn gasped and Buffy felt sick as she watched Spike's already pale face whiten further. She wanted to apologize, but she couldn't seem to form the words. The only thing going through her mind was 'he's gone—dead, and he's never coming back!'

The blond vampire was stunned she blamed him. His undead heart broke a little as he tried to explain what had happened that day in the alley in Los Angeles. "I tried, pet, but he wouldn't listen. You know how he was. He wanted to be the bloody hero. Slay the dragon and all that rot. He averted the Apocalypse—he died doing what he did best—saving souls." Buffy's lip quivered and Spike wanted to hold her, but he knew she might react violently if he touched her right then. "If it makes you feel better, I think he earned that redemption he always wanted." Buffy's face was still scrunched up in a fierce scowl, and Spike wilted under it. "You know I'd bloody well trade places with him if I could, but I can't," he finished turning away from her angry gaze.

Buffy felt sick for hurting him like that and finally found her voice. "Spike, I didn't mean that. I—" Her throat closed and she shook her head—this was too much. Too hard, and she had to get away before she totally lost it. "I-I can't do this right now. I'm sorry…" she murmured, rushing from the room.

Spike watched her run away and felt his heart break a little more. Figures it would be Angel's death that brought her down. She'd survived just fine when she thought he'd died. Why was it always about Angel? But then he remembered his Sire's grin as he'd leaped on that dragon's back, and Spike smiled too. The ponce always had liked to show off, and in his final moments he'd outdone even Angelus in his sheer 'bugger-it-all' attitude. He'd wrestled the dragon to the ground, and rammed his claymore into its heart, but the thing with dragons is nothing was what it appeared, and none of them had expected it to spill lava from its chest when Angel had skewered it—it had happened so fast, there was no time to save him. One minute Angel was slaying the huge winged beast—the next he was on fire and turning to dust. Spike winced at the memory. He may not have actually liked his Sire, but he'd respected him.

Dawn laid her hand on top of his. "She just needs some time to deal with it, Spike. She doesn't really blame you."

He nodded, drawn back from his musings. "I know, Bit. It just hurts to see her like this." He sighed and rubbed his temples before drilling Dawn with his intense blue eyes. "She's not going to get over this. You know that, don't you?"

Dawn frowned. "What do you mean? She and Angel haven't been together in years. Why would you say that?"

His eyes widened, before he shook his head. They were still so blind. He patted his jacket, found his cigarettes and lit one. "You were watching when she ran out here like the very devil was on her heels, weren't you?" he asked, expelling a cloud of smoke. He quirked a brow and asked, "Did that look like the reaction of a chit no longer head over arse in love?"

Dawn let out a long sigh. "No…guess not," she admitted. "So, what can we do?"

"Just give her time and space and bloody realize she never stopped loving him—let her grieve and don't tell her to snap out of it, because she won't," he said, standing up.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Spike shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. "Well, Vienna is nice this time of year…went there with Angelus back in the day. I think I'll just travel for a bit…" He shrugged. "You know…just deal with it in my own way."

Dawn nodded and got up to hug him. "You're always welcome here," she whispered, before kissing him on the cheek.

He cupped her jaw lightly. "Yeah, I know, but not right now." He ran his hand along his gelled platinum head and glanced into the house a sad expression on his handsome face. "I remind her too much of him—best I go for a while. I'll call you and check in," he said, and then he was gone, leaving only the faint smell of tobacco smoke in his wake.

Dawn watched him until he was out of sight, before she sagged back into her chair. How had they all been so ignorant to what Buffy was really feeling? Spike was right. Buffy was no where near over Angel. Thinking about it now, Dawn realized her emotions were still as deep as they were at sixteen when she'd first fallen for the handsome vampire, and suddenly the younger Summers' sibling felt like she had never really taken the time to get to know her sister at all. Obviously Buffy had been carrying this burden of unfulfilled love around for a long time, and all her supposed friends and family had done was bash her relationship with him. Yeah, some help they were.

Dawn felt sick and more than a bit disgusted with herself and the rest of the gang. "How could we have been so blind?" she asked out loud.

Inside her room, Buffy lay on her bed sobbing softly. She felt terrible for the things she'd said to Spike, but she just couldn't get past the fact that Angel was gone and Spike was still here. Like a bad penny. She immediately felt more guilt, but she couldn't seem to stop the agonized, angry thoughts that were assailing her from all sides. They'd sacrificed so much and for what? Death and loneliness was all they'd ever gotten for all their trouble. She was so tired of caring. Angel had cared—he'd even given up his humanity for the good fight—oh yeah—she remembered that, but the almighty Powers never seemed to care, so why should she?

Irate again, she picked up the phone and dialed Giles' number. He didn't pick up and she growled softly as she heard his voice on the answering machine. When the beep sounded, she let out a broken sob. "He's dead! I hope you're happy," she choked out. "Maybe if you'd told me the truth instead of sending Andrew there…" She paused, her voice full of venom. "You lied to him—told him I didn't care—that I didn't trust him. I think I started hating you when I heard that Giles—I really hated you when you suggested I seduce the Immortal for the good of the 'Cause'. Maybe if you hadn't done that—maybe if I hadn't—he might have called…" She fell into a fit of deep wrenching sobs. "But we did and he didn't trust us anymore. Now he's dead, Giles—dusted—never coming back!" she cried. "I'm done—no more. You have plenty of Slayers to carry your fight—leave me alone."

Buffy took several ragged breaths. "I don't know if I'll ever forgive you for lying to him—lying to me. I just wanted you to know when I found out he died…I died too, and I blame you for that." She gave a hysterical little broken laugh. "I guess that finally makes us even, huh? He took Jenny, and now you've taken him—and me. Stay out of my life," she whispered. Then sadly, almost robotically, she hung up the phone.

Immediately, Buffy curled into a ball as her grief overwhelmed her. "Angel…" she whimpered brokenly, clutching a pillow to her chest, "I love you." She clenched her eyes shut as if that would shut out this gut wrenching pain that seemed to perforate her very soul.

Through out the night, she cried until she had no more tears to shed. She ignored Dawn knocking on her door, asking if she was okay. She wasn't, and didn't want to talk about it. She ignored Giles' attempts to reach her after he'd received her venomous message too. She had nothing to say to her ex-watcher. She honestly didn't know if she'd ever have anything to say to him again. She ignored everyone and everything as years of a life without Angel in the world seemed to stretch in front of her. The emptiness grew until she felt hollow inside, and by the time Buffy finally fell into a fitful sleep, she knew she was never going to be the same—as far as the Powers were concerned, they could find a new whipping post. She was done. It was time she started living her life according to what she wanted, and the first thing she wanted was to find out if there was a way to bring him back.


Washington DC: 2005

Special Agent Seeley Booth smirked as he leaned against the door frame and watched her try and get herself out of her newest debacle.

"You were illegally transporting human remains Ma'am, and you assaulted a Homeland Security Agent!" the guard exclaimed.

Temperance Brennan rolled her expressive blue eyes. "Look, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends, but next time you really should identify yourself before attacking me!"

Booth chuckled and Brennan's head whipped his way. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped forward and flashed his ID and badge at the Homeland Security Guard. "F.B.I." he said. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, Major Crimes Division." He glanced at Brennan. "Bones works with me."

"Don't call me Bones," Brennan complained, but Booth ignored her. "She also writes books—she's not a threat to Homeland Security, alright?"

The Guard looked over Booth's credentials and nodded. "Fine, she's all yours—and good riddance too. That woman is a menace."

Brennan shot him a dirty look. "I told you—had you identified yourself I wouldn't have hit you."

Booth took her arm. "Great, so we're all set. Grab your skull, Bones, and let's vamoose." She shot him a suspicious look, which he returned with his 'charm smile'. "Unless you want to stay here and be questioned by Homeland Security for the rest of the day?"

"No, but why do I get the feeling you set me up?"

He laughed. "You have a suspicious mind, you know that…?" But the smirk that spread across his face told her he had definitely set her up and she rolled her eyes, but grabbed her skull and left with him just the same. A choice between being railroaded into helping Booth, and being held in this room anymore was a no brainer, and really wasn't a choice at all…

"Now I remember why I told Zack never to put you through security at the Jeffersonian again," she grumbled as she followed Booth out of the tiny interrogation room.


Galway Ireland: New Years Eve 2006

Buffy trudged in the door feeling a little more despondent today than she had since she'd started this quest to bring Angel back. She'd started in L.A. and worked her way back—visiting all the cities he had until she'd ended up here in Ireland…where it had all began, and yet…she was still no closer to finding him. She hung up her jacket by the door and made her way to her kitchen to warm herself a pot of tea, something she'd taken up drinking since she'd spent so much time in Europe lately. Dawn had been upset Buffy had wanted to be alone for Christmas, but the Slayer was in no mood to celebrate. She felt cold inside—dead almost, like all the joy had been sucked out of her the moment she found out Angel had been dusted.

By rote, she got out a cup, put the tea-bag in it and filled the pot with water before placing it on the stove. While she waited for the water to boil, she headed into her bedroom to change. The tea-pot was just beginning to whistle when she made her way back to the living-room dressed in warm flannel pants, wool socks, and one of Angel's long sleeved silk shirts.

"Hey kid, you can't give up—he's not a total lost cause, ya know?" a voice suddenly said from across the room.

Startled, Buffy almost dropped the hot pot of water she was holding. "Who's there?" she asked, setting the pot down and grabbing her ever handy stake.

Whistler stepped forward, a smile on his chubby face. "Come on kid, don't tell me you've forgotten me?"

Buffy recognized the badly dressed demon at once. She frowned and set the stake down. "What the hell do you want?"

"Wow, I'd like the new Mustang and a friendlier greeting, but I'll settle for a hey Whistler, how are ya?."

Buffy snorted dismissively. "Well, good luck with the Mustang. In regards to the other…" She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Let's just say, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"I think you might change your tune when you hear what I have to say."

"Really. And why is that?" she asked, raising a brow.

"I'm here to give you that pep-talk you need. You know, tell you not to give up hope, and all that. Remember you only have—"

She slammed the pot down on the stove, and for the first time Whistler felt a niggling of guilt for all the Powers had put this young woman through. "Don't tell me not to give up hope, Whistler. You and your bosses snatched away my hope and happiness—I didn't lose it!"

"But you still have a duty. You can't just turn your back on your calling. Angel did—"

"Don't! Don't even say his name. You have no right. You and your bosses used him and then abandoned him!"

"No, he fulfilled his prophecy, Slayer—which is something you're turning your back on right now."

"Well, guess what? I don't care—now go run off and tell your Powers that I'm done. Do you hear me? D-O-N-E!"

"It's not that simple, Buffy."

She rushed across the room, and her fist connected with his jaw before the little demon had time to react. Her punch sent him sailing across the room to crash into the wall, and before he could get up, Buffy placed her foot in his chest and kept him pinned against the floor and the wall. "See how simple it is?" she snarled. "Is this the actions of a warrior for the Powers?" She smirked when he just gaped up at her. "What? No witty comeback—no rousing 'rah-rah' speech…? I'm disappointed."

Whistler gurgled and tried to remove her foot. "Slayer—I'm just the messenger," he choked out.

Buffy lifted some of the pressure off his chest. "Well then deliver this—tell your bosses to stay out of my way and leave me the hell alone!" she snapped, before taking her foot out of his chest and letting him up.

The demon got to his feet and adjusted his polyester suit jacket. "Hey, no need to get physical Slayer," he said picking up the hat she'd knocked off. He plopped it back on his head and smiled. "You pack a hell of a punch—no wonder the big-guy never got over you."

"Say his name, and I swear I'll kick your ass all the way back to whatever dimension you came from," she growled. He looked stunned, and Buffy turned away from him—she hated this rage, but she couldn't seem to stop it anymore. It was eating her up inside. She put her head in her hands. "Please just go—I can't deal with you and this anymore. It's you're fault—you and the Powers. You just couldn't let us be happy, could you?" she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She hadn't cried in so long—she'd kept all her emotions focused on finding a way to get him back, that her tears felt almost foreign to her now.

Whistler could feel the raw anguish in the Slayer and realized how wrong the Powers had been. Buffy needed Angel. He took his hat off and scratched his balding head, debating the wisdom of what he was about to do. The consequences for defying the Powers would be grim, but Whistler felt a real affection for this brave woman who'd shouldered the fate of the world on her slim shoulders and he knew she was cracking—she wouldn't make it back if he didn't help her. He went to stand next to her and laid a hand on her arm. "What if I were to tell you he wasn't really dead?"

Buffy froze—every nerve seemed to sizzle as she absorbed that statement. Her eyes shot up and her breath caught. "What are you saying?"

Whistler knew there was going to be hell to pay for what he was about to do, but what the hell—what could the Powers really do besides send him to some far off dimension for a thousand years. He almost changed his mind, but those sad green eyes went right to his conscience. "Do you still love him?"

Her thoughts had completely scattered at his last sentence and Buffy had to drag her mind back to what he was saying. "What?" Her eyes drilled into his and she stalked closer to him—deadly now in her determination to find out what the hell he meant by 'he wasn't really dead'. She stopped a foot in front of him and tilted her head to the side. "You know something…something about, Angel, don't you?"

"Slayer, can you just answer the question? Do you still love him?"

"Of course—why else do you think I've been wandering the world searching for a way to bring him back?"

"What if I were to tell you he's never been gone?"

She grabbed him by the lapels of his leisure suit and shook him. "Tell me what you know?"

Whistler pried her hands off him. "Easy Slayer—roughing me up isn't going to get you anywhere. At this point, I'm all you got." He straightened his suit and took her hand. "First off, what I'm about to tell you is going to get me in all kinds of trouble with the Powers…" He shrugged. "But what the hell—you kids have earned a break."

"Whistler, tell me what you know," she demanded.

"I know he's not dead. Actually, he's pretty far from dead."

Buffy heart was thundering in her chest. "Don't give me the cryptic. Just tell me where he is."

"He's in D.C. as in Washington…" Buffy started to race from the room, but Whistler grabbed her arm, halting her mad dash. "Whoa there Slayer...before you fly off to find him, there's a few things you need to know first…"


Okay guys, hope you liked this, know the drill--click that little blue button and feed my greedy musie...I know she's a total review whore, right? lol! But the more you feed her--the more she feeds me!