Disclaimer: Oh we all know we owns them. The devil himself, Joss Whedon
Rating: PG
Summary: Angel says his goodbyes at Buffy's grave.
Character: Angel, B/A

She Sleeps
By Trixie
-----
He stared at the grave and wondered who tended it. The grass shone a dark green in the moonlight, like pine needles. With the tip of his boot, he grazed the rich dirt which covered her and the masses of white roses adorning the cold stone.

In his hand was a bouquet of wildflowers. They were her favourites. He didn't want to put them down yet. His fingers felt like crushing them, but as he resisted, he stared at the letters forming her name.

B. U. F. F. Y.

S. U. M. M. E. R. S.

It was like the scream he had let out. Just one. A few hours after Willow had called and he had sent Cordy and Wes and Gunn and every single person he knew away- so he could go to the roof and stare at the unforgiving stars. They had burned coldly as he gazed… and as wailed that name- punched from his lungs- that name. Her name.

He wasn't letting himself understand the full truth of what had happened. She was gone, yes, he believed it. But he didn't understand it. If he dared to pull apart everything… get to the guts, he knew he would do more than scream her name. He knew… his ribs would explode, his heart would expand with his lungs and his throat would cave. Angel wasn't stupid, he knew that Buffy was dead. He was standing in front of her grave- above her- and he could say it- almost easily "Buffy's dead. Yes, she's dead. I'm sorry, but she is gone." The words meant nothing to him, as they slid off his tongue. He had practiced them one night, and it was as if they were gibberish.

He hadn't dreamt of her yet. At first he had looked forward to the time he spent sleeping- sure that she would join him in the realm of dreams and he'd be able to touch the glinting blonde of her hair, feel the warmth of her skin… feel her. Feel her safe. But she hadn't come, and he felt like Heathcliff moaning over Cathy's dead body—Haunt me, drive me mad… just do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you!

His ears roared with voices. Hers. His. They melted together… times of the past, and never seemed to make sense. Sometimes he caught fractions of the conversations they had in his head… the blonde girl and the vampire. The Buffy and Angel of yesterday- their ghosts had been drifting around him for days. He could see them behind his eyelids.

(Let's just say I'm a friend…)



(Is this really happening?)

Yes, love, I'm sorry but it is. I'm so sorry, more sorry than you'll ever know.

Pressing a hand to his forehead, he dropped to his knees before her, and felt as if he was praying. He wasn't—although he wanted to. (Please, God, keep her safe) Actually what he wanted to do was break down, grasp the dirt that was choking her, and weep until he drowned. She wouldn't want that. He kept hearing her voice- "Look after Dawn for me, Angel. She's all I had… she's what I died for. Please…" He wasn't sure if it was his conscience or his lost lover talking, but he had remained true to what she wanted.

He was staying at the mansion now, and slaying and becoming someone he didn't like. Someone with black eyes and a blank voice. All he could do was remember. Just remember. Her eyes. Her skin. The lilt of her voice when she said his voice. The feel of her body against him when they last saw each other. Her lips… her mouth… her kiss…that kiss that was an end in itself. His ghost Buffy.

"All that brooding is going to give you a headache."

His head snapped up and caught the flash of gold as he saw her hair. "Buffy?"

She grinned tenderly, gently, "it's me."

Struggling to get up, he tripped and fell to his knees before her. She sat perched on the gravestone, which bore her name, and her hand came out to brush his shoulder. "I was wondering when you were coming to see me."

"I couldn't…" he murmured, "for the first while…"

She breathed out and he could almost see her slight smile, "I know…" she paused, "how is Dawn? I haven't been to check on her yet. It hurts right now."

This was too much. He couldn't breathe. "I…" he choked, "I… she's not doing well. But she'll survive, Buffy."

Her fingers touched his bare neck and he felt it, although he knew this couldn't be real… he felt it. He felt her. Felt her safe and in front of him.

"I know she will," she answered and then tilted his chin up. "What about you?"

His hand cupped her cheek and he almost sobbed at the texture of her skin, at the bright glowing orbs of her eyes... she was so beautiful, she was so real… "I'll…" he sighed. "I'll survive to."

"Yeah," she said quietly and then looked around. "I thought death would be different than this, you know."

"How do you mean?"

"I thought it would be so peaceful. I guess I thought I'd be relieved of everything… but it's strange, I'm not. Sure, there's big peace. But there's also so much loneliness. I want to be back with everyone… I want to be with my sister." She looked down and played with the collar of his shirt. He watched her. Why did he waste all that time, they could have had together? It was something he could never answer. He supposed in the back of his mind, in his heart of hearts, he had always seen his Shanshu in the future… and just known… one day, he'd come back for her. He'd sweep into town on his white steed, and kiss her breathless, and they'd live happily ever after.

It broke his fucking weak little heart that he hadn't come back sooner. That he'd been living the shiny happy life while she suffered in this town which straddled the Hellmouth. A bitter acrid taste cramped his mouth as he gazed up at her, mud squeezing between his fingers. "Buffy…" he murmured, "I'm sorry I didn't… I'm sorry I left you."

Her eyes were vacant. "Did you? I forget now."

He buried his face against her knees, which were covered in khaki pants. They smelled like her. Vanilla and sunshine, a hint of dust and blood. His breath hitched as he felt tears slip down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, love," he moaned.

She stirred and he felt her hands holding his head, bringing his face up so she could lock eyes with him. Her's were bleak. "Do you know how much I missed you? I used to walk by the mansion at night, you know." She laughed harshly. "I would have died if anyone found out. And people brought up your name like you didn't mean anything, do you know that? I had to grieve alone. They forgot what you meant to me… what you were, and are, and I had to…" she shuddered and he caught her hands in his. "I had to pretend… I started to hate you. And now… now I just miss you."

Her eyes burned him. "I know," he muttered. "I didn't mean to… I just wanted to get you out of me. I wanted to bleed you out."

"They bled Dawn," she uttered without inflection. "They cut her stomach until she was covered in red…" pressing hands to her forehead, she fell into him, and he had her in his arms, his Buffy. "I had to do it. I had to save her… how could I have killed my own sister?"

He nodded, he understood, and he stroked her hair. "You couldn't."

"But I killed you," she said bluntly, and then sat up again. "Did you forgive me for that?"

He nodded helplessly. "Yes, Buffy. You know I would never… hold that against you. You were just doing your duty."

"But you wish I had killed Dawnie," she said blankly. "I know you do." Softly, she brushed the spikes of his hair. "I don't mind, you know. That you wish that… that you wish I was still here. I'm glad you miss me."

She stood and he gazed up at her, her hair falling around her face as she bent and pressed her lips to his forehead so briefly, it felt like imagination. "You'll remember me every once and a while, won't you?"

He grabbed her hand and his lips sought her palm. "With every breath. I love you, Buffy."

She smiled sadly, "If only we'd let that be enough."

As she faded into the night, and Angel was left on the muddy grave, with the cold stars burning above him, he reached out a hand to her. Like he had after she'd slammed the sword into his belly. He could never let her go on without him.

Laying his cheek against the stone, he traced the lines of her name with a shaking thumb. Buffy Summers… Buffy Summers…

So this was the ever after. This was the end.

She was sleeping. A deep, deep sleep.

He just wished he could wake her with a kiss.

He stayed there, with her, until the sun began to rise.

End.

Once upon a time
Thr fairest of them all
A heart full of longing
A deep, deep sleep

- from "Life" magazine, in an article after Princess Diana was killed

Feedback