DISCLAIMER: Not mine, don't sue.
TIMELINE: Spring 2001 - Season Five/Season Two Anti-Joss Replacement.
PAIRING: B/A
SPOILERS: For "The Gift"
SYNOPSIS: Just a bit of resurrection fluff. No plot whatsoever. Consider it a fluffy fic greeting card for my baby Dru's birthday. :) Unbetaed -- all mistakes are mine.
RATING: PG-13 + - Light Sex.
DEDICATION: To my Adoring Minion Dru. This is a greeting card fic, just for you. Your support means so much to me. Not to mention all those SEXY vamp prezzies you always send me. *SMOOCH* Happy birthday, babe!

Miracles Do Happen
By Ducks
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The vampire crashed through the front door of the little bungalow on Revello drive
and stood in the living room archway, gasping for breath that he didn't need, staring
at the three people sitting around the coffee table calmly playing a board game.

"Let me guess," Xander snarked, "You ran all the way from LA."

"Wh... where..." Angel panted, "Where is she?"

Dawn blinked at him. Not that she was at all shocked. In fact, she was surprised it
had taken him a whole two hours to make it here. Just that it had been so long since
she'd seen him, and...

Was he always that *gorgeous*?

Willow's smile lit the room. Being the bearer of really freaky, brain melting,
inexplicable good news was *way* better than being the bearer of heart breaking,
soul-crushing, suicidal depression-inducing news.

"She's upstairs," she replied, but he was already gone before she even got 'up' out
of her mouth.

Angel took the steps three at a time, vampire speed never as imperative, as central
to his very existence, as it was in that moment. He was in front of her bedroom door
in three seconds flat.

**Hi, um... Angel? It's Willow. Uh... I'm not really sure how to tell you this,
but...**

He knew he should knock, but he didn't care... he wasn't going to waste even one
precious second. He crashed into Buffy's bedroom the same way he had barged into her
house.

**Remember how I told you that, uh... that Buffy was... dead? Well... it's just
that... um..., I mean, she definitely died, but...**

There she was, the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, dressed in a tee-shirt and
baggy shorts, her long, golden hair hanging loose around her shoulders, her legs
tucked up beneath her, writing in the journal she held in her lap. She glanced up,
unruffled by his particularly loud and frantic entrance, as though she had been
waiting for him.

**She's not... dead anymore. No, she's not a zombie. Or a ghost. No, she's not a
vampire, either. Yes, I'm sure. Jeeze, don't you think we'd notice something like
that? She's just... well, she's Buffy. She's alive, Angel...**

He rushed forward, and without hesitating for even a fraction of a second, scooped
Buffy up in his arms, crushing her to his chest.

"Urk!" she objected.

It was real. It was her. Her warm, soft skin, her strong, brave heartbeat. It was
true. She was alive.

Angel pulled away to drink in the miraculous sight of her. Touched her face... traced
the wry half-smile on her lips, the curve of her perfect hazel eyes. Ran his fingers
through her thick, silky hair. Brushed the shell of her ear, the line of her throat,
the faded scar of his mark, her fine shoulders. Brought her arms up and looked at her
hands, taking a moment to caress each finger.

Then he burst into tears and grabbed her again.

This time, Buffy grabbed him back. She cried too, but through her sobs, she laughed
with the pure joy of his touch.

Of all the things she was glad to be alive for, Angel was in the top two.

He began kissing her as they wept together... tiny, grateful kisses, at first. But it
was as it had always been between them, and their embrace quickly grew fiercer, more
passionate. And in a blinding heartbeat, they were tearing one another's clothes off,
frantic to touch more...faster...*now*. All the years they had known each other...
all the things they had been to one another, crashing down on them in a wave.

As they fell together to the bed, limbs and mouths locked, the pain and joy of the
time they had been apart came... all the things they had learned and lost, gained and
become like a whole new fire between them.

When she opened for him, and he took that first, blissful thrust inside her, they
both froze.

Buffy looked up at him in fear. Angel looked down at her in wonder.

"It's okay. It doesn't matter," he whispered in reply to her unspoken question, "I
didn't believe it until now. But you're here... you're alive. Miracles do happen."

There was more... so much more to tell her about what had happened to him in those
long, empty months while she was gone.

But now the only thing that mattered was that she looked into his eyes, and found all
the answers that she needed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around
his waist, and urged him to finish what they had started... years ago.

So, he did. He kissed her, long and deep... let his hands wander over every glowing
inch of her living skin, and made sweet, slow love to her just the way he had been
dreaming of forever...

It was so easy... so right. Their flesh and sighs blending, their souls melding as
they arched into one another... each one's name a prayer of thanks... a simple
declaration of love, and a statement of hope for the future on the other's lips.

And when the ever-building waves finally peaked and then crashed, they fell through
the clouds from Heaven together with a joyous cry that was half laughter, half sob.

Spent, they fell into one another's arms, and for a long, wonderful while, were still
and peaceful, surrounded by a soft, blissful bubble of wishes they had never dreamed
could come true.

It was Buffy who finally broke it. She lifted her head from its perfect resting place
on his chest, and looked deeply into his eyes... those pools of mahogany that, when
she had no other memory remaining of her life here on earth, she had still been able
to recall with perfect clarity. Like a beacon, always calling her home.

"So... hi. How are you? Guess what? I'm not dead. And say... what's up with your
soul?" she chattered lightly, wearing a grin that she felt came from the very center
of her being.

Angel laughed for the first time in the four longest months of his already very long
existence.

"I hope you're free for a while... it seems like we have a lot to talk about," he
said, brushing a stray hair tenderly from her face.

"I'm free for the rest of my life, actually..." she whispered, and kissed him.

"Good," he murmured into her lips, "I can't tell you how good that is to hear."

The End.

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