Summary: Read and see. (Don't you love it when the summaries are mysterious?)
Spoilers: Through the third season, but most specifically S/I.
Disclaimer: These characters are MINE! MINE ALL MINE! HAHAHA!! Well, okay, they're not, but I like to pretend sometimes.
Rating: PG10 or so.
For Tracy who inspires. :)

I'd loved him my whole life. Even though I didn't know who he was or where he was then, I loved him. I would sometimes sit and picture him, when I was still innocent. And I knew that I had met him as soon as I did, though I tried to pretend that I didn't. I felt that connection that everyone talks about but so few people actually feel zing through my entire body, just looking at him, draped in darkness. And I knew.

It was easy to pretend. I had experienced things others wouldn't dare to dream of, things that hurt your body and scar your soul. It was easy to pretend that he couldn't get in. Until he did.

Kisses had never really meant anything to me before. They were contracts, not promises. They were meaningless because I was. His kisses were not only promises, they were gifts, rain and rainbows, the sun and the stars. It's funny how such contrasted words can make so much sense to me. But I guess that in my world, nothing that *should* make sense does, and vice versa. Everytime he looked down at me with his dark eyes and bent to touch his mouth to mine, I couldn't help shivering. How unfair that what fit *so perfectly* was something I wasn't able to have.

And before him, I had never felt safe, not truly. When I lived in my old home, my mansion an hour from the beach and filled my mind with useless and silly things, there was always this sense of foreboding hanging over me. Maybe it was the way my parents fought, or something telling me that there was supposed to be more to my life, I'm not sure. And then after I found out about my calling, nothing was safe. The monsters in the dark that I used to talk about around a campfire were real. The demons I had heard about in movies were nothing to be joked about.

But with Angel, I knew I was protected. Even before I knew he was a vampire, even before I knew about his strength and energy, seeing him standing next to or in front of me made me feel like I could close my eyes and not get hurt. That was a good feeling. Warm, safe. I couldn't imagine shadows falling over our hearts. Like the sunrise, he brought hope.

But I felt most at ease in his bed. I knew it had to come to that, something deep inside me saw that my comfort couldn't last forever. But I wanted those moments so much, and he was so real sitting next to me, dripping from the rain. His fingers were such a good feeling on my shoulder, seeing if I was okay. His voice was so substantial when he spoke, telling me for the first time that he loved me. And I had been so lonely before him.

So I did what I was never expected or allowed to do. I let go. Everything else that night, the rain on the window, the thunder, the water soaking through my clothes just faded into the background and I let go. I looked into the darkness that was his soul and I found what I knew I would. Beauty.

I remember everything about that night. How could I not? His lips crushed against mine, the reassuring weight of his body, the coolness of his hands, the clashing metal of our rings. My hair had been wet for a lot of the time, and we had giggled like children when it kept wrapping around his arms and getting caught in his mouth. I had never known that love-making could be so affectionate and sweet and even funny. I had thought before, naively, that it was all lust and passion, and a lot of it was. What I had never counted on was the joy we took in laughing together, the feel of his lips smiling as they trailed over me, the trust I felt. Because finally, I didn't only depend on me. I didn't have to.

And when we rested, his arms covering me, his hands still moving lightly over my skin, I fell asleep in his embrace. I had never known that that sort of peace was possible.

And then the shadows had fallen on the light, the curtains been drawn on our little play. No more pretending.

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We talked a few days ago. I keep telling myself that. His voice had been husky and sweet, telling me he loved me. Telling me that he always would. Telling me... Telling me that he had loved me all his life. Tears had spilled down my face when he said that, and I clumsily agreed, talking when he needed no explanations. But he had just taken my hand in his and looked down at me with eyes that were so terrified of happiness that it made me want to cry. And then he kissed me.

Kisses in our world lately had been becoming more common, we were finally allowing ourselves to admit our love instead of shying away from it because we couldn't do anything about it, but this kiss was different. I tasted tears, and I knew somehow that it could be our last. He had pulled me to him and I pressed myself against his chest, trying to get as close as I could, and he knew it too. The thought hit us at the same time, I'm sure, because as soon as I had processed it, the pressure of his mouth had grown harder, his lips and tongue exploring mine with abandoned passion and fear.

Pulling back, I realized that it wasn't him who was crying, but me. The tears were in his eyes of course, bringing back memories I didn't care to have, but they stayed in the dark of them, hiding except for the occasional sparkle. Mine were flowing freely down my cheeks. He hugged me tightly. "Hey, I'll be back in a few months."

I had nodded numbly against his shoulder, but both of us knew that something wasn't right. He kissed me again, shorter, maybe to prove to us that we were wrong. That there was nothing bad happening.

And then he left. My heart seemed to leave with him.

The white roses are bruised by the mud splashing against them as it rains like it always seems to do on such occasions. I tell myself that at least the sky knows when to weep when it realizes that something so bright can't ever come back.

I cry raggedly and fall to my knees as my memories push themselves into my mind again. Something all Slayer's are blessed with is a good memory. But I know now that it's not a blessing, it's a curse. There are too many things that I want to forget but can't. Too many things I want to pretend never happened. Even though I know how hard it would be to try pretending again.

He had turned back at the end of the street at roughly the same time I had started running to him. When we reached each other, I flew into his arms and cried, begging him not to leave. He kissed my face over and over, my lips and eyelids and the tears that were tracked down my cheeks. I held him roughly to me, relishing the safe feeling, one I hadn't experienced since that night in his bed so long ago. And even though I was hurting with the thought of him leaving, I was glad at the feel of his arms pressing me to him, the security he provided.

But, like everything good, the security was taken away far too soon.

I had been in his arms, kissing him furiously, mumbling against his mouth that I loved him, wishing he could be with me, when we were both knocked over. By something so simple and stupid as a rock. For a second, I laid on top of him, staring at the rock that was a few feet away. Angel had realized it before I had.

He had shoved me off of him, rolling instead on top of me, yelling. "Buffy, watch out!"

And then he had been staked.

I watched that part like it was in slow motion, and I've replayed it a million times in my head since. His arms had been pinned underneath my back, and as the stake sank through, not deep enough to go through both our hearts, like intended, Angel's eyes met mine.

"I love you."

His lips met mine, then, already turning into dust. I clutched his body tighter, hoping I was wrong, but when I opened my eyes, my arms were around my body, which was starting to tremble. My stomach already retching, I got up and took on the dozen vampires that had initiated the attack. I killed them all. And I made them hurt.

But there was no satisfaction in that for once. Not in anything. I had accomplished *nothing*. *Nothing!* I hadn't been able to save him. And in not saving him, I hadn't saved myself. I died that night.

So now I look down at the marking that's already being soiled by the rain and dirt and dust, the only thing honoring him I had been able to give. My friends finally walk away, no doubt feeling defeated and sad and sorry, but I can't really hear them. I can't really see them. No hope of the sunrise anymore.

The final shadows have fallen.

The End

Tell Amy you love her.

I love angst..

I can't stand anymore.