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The Violence of Existing	By : Maren Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 3497 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS or BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Email: marenfic@yahoo.com

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When Slayer padded out of the bathroom wrapped in a white
towel, he was gone. Wesley never stayed,
hadn�t spent the night once since he had tracked her down a year earlier.

~~~~~~1 year
earlier~~~~~

She had been sitting in a dark corner of one of her regular
after-slayage goth clubs, doing a line of coke and trying to lose herself in
the pounding music when he had slipped into the booth beside her.

�I�m so glad you�re hanging up your stalker hat. It get getting harder and harder to pretend
that I didn�t see you,� she said.

Then she had looked at him, up close, for the first time in
over 3 years. What she saw surprised
her. This man was not the prissy,
ineffectual Watcher who had tried to make her toe the Council�s line. In fact, he didn�t even stick out too much in
this scene, with his all black clothing, his tousled hair, and his three day
growth. She raised her eyebrows in
appreciation and nodded toward the line that was still on the table.

�Want?� she offered.

�No thank you. I seem
to recall a time in the not overly distant past when you weren�t so eager to
have your body polluted with chemicals, but I suppose death might change
things,� he�d answered. His voice was
deceptively smooth and calm, and she had made an internal note to be ready for
whatever had made him finally approach her.

She had laughed, and it sounded more than ttlettle
hollow. �Don�t worry Wes, I haven�t been
promoted to head crack-whore yet.�

He had been skeptical at first, but soon he found out that
even though she drank and did the occasional line, she never lost control. She wasn�t a burn-out and she wasn�t a
drunk. It was almost as though she
weren�t capable of excess anymore.

�So are you going to clue me in on why you�ve been following
me around, or am I going to have to beat it out of you? If you�re here on behalf of your boss, you
can get up and walk right on out� she had said.
Her voice was chipper and sweat, belying the words that she spoke.

If he thinks I�m going
to see . . . well, I won�t. I can�t.

It was his turn to bark out a bitter laugh. �I don�t have a boss, but that�s a tale for
another day�perhaps I�ll share it when you tell me how a dead slayer is
walking, talking, and breathing,� he had replied.

Slayer waited for him to continue, staring at him mutely
with something close to disinterest in her eyes.

�You killed a . . . friend . . . of mine. Several weeks ago. A woman, tall, brown hair, evil to the
core. Ring any bells?�

The haunted look that briefly flashed through her eyes was
all the answer he needed.

�I had no idea it was you, Buffy. . .� he started to
continue, before her sharp retort interrupted him.

�Don�t call me that,� she said, her voice low and laced with
warning of imminent danger to his person.

He gave her a quizzical look. �Fine then.
If you don�t wish to be called by your name, what do you prefer?�

�Slayer.�

He stared at her for several long moments. �As I was saying,� he finally continued, �at
first I didn�t realize it was you. The
night you killed Lilah, I saw you leave her building on my way up. I knew you looked familiar, but of course I
never presumed that it could be you, as I knew you were dead of course. When I found her. . .� his voice had trailed
off for a moment. When it resumed, it
was silky smooth and threatening in its calm, cool delivery. �When I found her lying there in a pool of
her own blood, I began . . . interviewing . . . my sources. Even though I was quite . . . persuasive, you were a difficult woman
to find.�

�Silly Wes. You never
would have found me if I didn�t want
to be found,� she drawled, tilting her head flirtatiously to one side and
giving him a seductive half-smile. Only
her eyes betrayed the hard calculating look of a warrior engaged in
battle.

His eyes had roamed appraisingly over her body in response,
had darkened with a hint of lust as he lingered on the swell of her breasts
over the black bustier, had raked slowly down to the exposed flesh of her
stomach before briefly settling on the firm thighs that were encain rin red
leather. When he raised his eyes to meet
hers again, she was still smiling at him.
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The Violence of Existing