Chapter Two - Cuts Like Glass
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Y'know how, when you do something you're not supposed to do, but don't tell your parents, you always feel as if they know anyway? Like, everything they say or do is designed to get you to spill your secret, just so they can have the satisfaction of seeing you grovel.

You don't know? Well, that's always how I felt with my mother. Lying to her about slaying was...stressful. Lying to her about Angel, was another matter entirely.

Which is why, one fateful Spring morn, I chose to tell her. Well, not tell her immediately - because calling her up from Angel's to say, 'Hey, mom, I'm lounging around in bed with my undead but astoundingly attractive and intelligent boyfriend, would you like to say "Hi?"' wasn't really a good idea.

Besides, Angel was doing rather deliciously decadent things to my body, and who'd want to leave that environment?

So, I chose to tell my mother. In the near future.

I just hoped Mom wouldn't ground me for like, eternity.

I mean, I wouldn't want to break that beach date I'd planned with Angel.

"Mom?" I ventured, putting down my knife and fork and staring at her, my eyes wide, and, with a little luck and like a million hours practicing in front of the mirror, innocent. "Can we... you know, do that mother/daughter non-judgmental bondage thing? Not that I know anything about bondage, that is..."

Not much, anyway...

She swallowed her chicken and looked at me expectantly. "Of course, honey."

Neither of us said anything for a few moments, and Mom started to look at me strangely, "Buffy, when you suggested this foray into communication, I thought you might have a specific topic in mind."

I picked up my napkin, playing with the paper edges. "I suppose I do."

More silence.

Mom groaned at me, "I'm trying to be patient, here, honey, but -"

"I have a boyfriend," I blurted out, my voice sounding high-pitched and completely wigged to my ears.

My mother stared at me as if I was nuts, which was fairly understandable. I mean, it's not as if the fact that I have a boyfriend is all that shocking. I started dating when I was still in diapers.

Finally, she smiled at me, "That's wonderful, Buffy. I'd been wondering if you were going to start dating." Her eyes flickered towards the table, "You haven't been doing that, much, since we moved here."

Originally because I was waiting around for Angel, and then, later, because I was always *with* Angel.

"So, to be completely parental, 'Who's the lucky guy?'"

That's the part I'd been dreading.

"Um...You've met."

"We have?"

"Uh... You remember that guy... Angel??"

Mom stared blankly at me for a moment, so I offered, "Tall, gorgeous, kinda broody-looking?"

"Tutoring you in history?"

"Um... for a little while, I guess," I confirmed.

"Him?"

I shrugged, "Yeah."

"You're dating your teacher," Mom said, sounding a little stunned, and my eyes widened.

"He's *not* my teacher!" I objected. "He just helped me out a couple times. And - And he stopped, when he thought he was getting too close to me."

Well, it's sort of true. Only, instead of helping me cram for my history finals, he got slashed in the ribs by a vampire.

Same diff.

Mom seemed to be getting over the shock, because she let out a breath, and said, "How long?"

I shrugged, "It's sort of complicated."

She looked at me in that way all Mom's have that says 'Don't you even *try* and get away with that one'.

I sighed and tried, mentally, to count up how much time Angel and I had under our collective belt, before giving up.

We took 'on again, off again' to the extreme, for a while there.

"We kissed, last year," I said softly, "Just after you met him... but we didn't really get together til this year... a few months before my birthday, I guess."

"And you're only just telling me *now*??"

My lip trembled: the big guns of parent/child warfare. "I thought you'd try and make me stop seeing him."

Plus, the whole 'He's a vampire thing'. Which still exists... but it's not like I can hide him away forever, is it?

Actually, the idea of Angel waiting patiently for me in a little dark room is rather attractive. Throw in some chocolate, and that bed of his, and I'm there.

Mom was chewing on her lip, uncertain. "I... He's older than you."

Heh. He's older than most people.

"I know."

There wasn't really anything else to say, other than that. What was I supposed to do? Deny that he was older? Yeah, that'd fly well. He was twenty-seven when he was turned, and he looks twenty-seven to this day.

"How old?"

"Twenty-Four."

Just because he *looks* twenty-seven, doesn't mean he has to *be* twenty-seven.

Angel and I talked about me telling Mom about us. He was understandably nervous - he seems to think I inherit my temper from my mother - but was, as usual, completely supportive of my decisions.

It's nice to know somebody is. Most of my loved ones have this habit of thinking I'm nuts.

"*Twenty-Four*???" Mom shrieked, and I winced.

"It's not *that* old, really..." I offered, biting my lip. "Girls mature faster than guys. And... we're happy. Isn't that what you want for me?"

She gazed at me darkly, "I thought the guilt trip was an exclusive mom-power."

"Fun for the whole family," I disagree. "C'mon, if it's fair for you, it's fair for me."

"Buffy...do you... Do you trust him?"

"He's my best friend," I responded firmly, "I trust him with everything."

"Everything?" Mom said cautiously, and I stared at her.

Calmly, "What exactly are you asking, Mom?"

"Are you -" she stuttered a little, then went on, "Have you slept with him?"

Gulp. I mean, I knew that was coming, but I'd hoped to avoid it.

"Yes."

Resolutely, I kept my eyes on her, not about to convey guilt in any way. I knew she wouldn't like that truth, but that didn't mean I had to regret it.

I didn't. I couldn't.

After a long, nerve-wracking pause, she said, "He's 24."

"We love each other," I shrugged, as if it was that simple, even though I knew it wasn't, and couldn't be.

"You're 17," she added.

As if that was supposed to be news to me.

"In the end, that doesn't really matter," I said softly, thinking of Ethan Reyne, and Spike, and how being old didn't mean you were responsible. "It's never been a problem for us."

She stared at me, and for the first time, I could see how scared she was. Of what, exactly, I still don't know, but she looked...

She looked as if I was leaving her.

"Did he push you into this?" Mom asked suddenly, almost desperately, "Did he pressure you?"

"No!" I exclaimed, always ready to jump to Angel's defence. "*God* no. It was my choice... I made the first move."

That seemed to stun her for a moment, and she stared at me with wide eyes. "Were you careful?"

I blushed a little, then. It's not as if it really mattered, anyway. Angel is pretty much a dead body. A really hot, really lively dead body, but a corpse all the same. I came to terms with that a long time ago.

Not seeing the point in worrying her, I lied. "Of course."

"Buffy...," Mom whispered, her voice strangled. "When? Why?"

"My birthday... It was never even a decision, Mom," I said, after a moment. "It wasn't something I agonized over. It just felt...right. When the moment came... I let it take me. And he made me feel safe, and loved, and... peaceful. Happy. I feel like *we* are something beautiful, and... I wish I could explain this, Mom, but I can't, and I know you're probably disappointed, but *I'm* not. And that's important to me."

She kept staring at me, and I bit my lip.

"Mom?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy, it's just..." her eyes flashed with anger. "You slept with a boy - a *man* - you didn't even see fit to tell me you were dating!"

"It wasn't that *I* didn't see him fit," I said stubbornly, "It was that I didn't think *you* would see him fit, because you wouldn't be able to look beyond his *age*!"

"Were *you* able to look beyond the fact that he was a cute boy?"

"Actually, yes," I growled icily, irritated by her implication that I didn't love him. "I didn't even like him at first. I thought he was annoying."

That stopped her. "Really?"

I don't know why she was so interested in that. It was weird. But suddenly, it was like she stopped being turbo-Mom and started being Mom-Mom. I like Mom-Mom better.

"He was all irritating and mysterious," I said with a small smile, "And wound way too tight."

"What changed?"

"I saw behind the cryptic-guy mask," I said, and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. "I love him, Mom."

She stared at me for a long moment, and then we went to bed.

The next morning, she made me scrambled eggs for breakfast, and told me to invite him over for dinner.

It's not as if she's completely cool with it, but she will be. She loves me, and I love him, and she'll learn to live with that.

Once she realises how much of an art geek he is, I bet she'll even learn to like him.

Angel's not quite so convinced. He keeps sending me little pleading looks, as if he's begging me to run off to Mexico with him, daughterly duties be damned.

It's actually quite an attractive prospect.

:: Chapter Three ::