disclaimer in part 1

**WARNING: GRATUITOUS, BARELY JUSTIFIABLE PLOTLESS MUSH AHEAD. :)**

Translation note: Angel whispers (roughly): "I love you, breath of my soul. Always."
(The 'always' translates literally to "it will always be like this".)

Stages of Grief
By Ducks
-----
Stage V: Acceptance and Renewal

"This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply
accepts the reality of the loss, and begins to move on. Although the survivors will
probably never forget the one who is gone, the realization sets in that they have to
say farewell, and return to the living." - From the "Arnot Ogden Medical Center's
Guide to Dealing With Grief"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so life went on... such as it was. I finally allowed myself to go on with it. The
days that followed were difficult. There were still so many times when I had to stop
what I was doing, and let a pang of pain pass. Or when I would suddenly smile or cry
for no reason, overwhelmed by some memory or another of Buffy that stole upon me.

But I let them happen. I indulged those moments. The fact was, my heart was broken,
and only time and patience with myself would allow it to heal. So long as I wasn't
distracted in battle, or absent when my friends or a client needed my attention,
there was no real harm in allowing myself to mourn. After all, as much as I might
have genuinely believed to the contrary, grieving for my love wouldn't kill me.

Two months had passed since she died. Eight of the most difficult, arduous weeks in
my entire existence. Then one night, I heard myself laughing at one of Gunn's
tasteless jokes. The foreign sound of it took me--and everyone else--by surprise. In
that second, I realized -- it was the first time I had laughed since I saw Willow
sitting on the couch in the Hyperion's lobby on that warm May night when the bottom
fell out of my universe.

I was finally moving on.

I excused myself from the meeting. No one asked where I was going, or if I was okay.
Maybe they already knew. Maybe they understood what my laughter meant even better
than I did, because I swear I caught them exchanging relieved smiles as I grabbed my
coat and ran out the door.

It was time.

***

The drive to Sunnydale seemed to take only moments, those miles between LA and the
Hellmouth quickly devoured by my focus on all the many things I wanted to say.

The walk to her grave felt different this time, too. Those memories felt less like a
haunting, and more like a bittersweet blessing, urging me on.

The site was perfectly kept... not a single wilted flower or weed anywhere. Someone
was watching over her. Maybe Dawn or Willow... Giles or Xander... maybe even Spike.
More likely, all of them. Whoever it was, it gave me some small measure of relief to
know that someone who loved her as much as I did was spending a lot of time there.
She wasn't alone.

I set the bouquet of jasmine I'd picked from my garden amongst the others -- roses
and lilies, daises and other wildflowers -- not a petal of which looked more than a
day old, and I took a long, quiet moment to really look at the headstone for the
first time.

"She saved the world. A lot."

There was so much that those words couldn't tell someone who never knew her. So much
about true heart... courage and sacrifice... about a beautiful, giving soul who loved
life. But then, how could this slab of marble possibly portray anything about the
complex woman it memorialized?

We were the true testament of who Buffy was: myself, her sister, her friends... all
the people who she touched and changed forever by her brief presence in this world.
Everything around us owed its continued existence to her a dozen times over... every
tree, every bird, every small night sound in the air around me. Those were the things
that told her story.

I finally sat down on the soft grass. A few feet under me lay her body. Soft skin,
golden hair, strong, lithe muscles... all now breaking down into the fundamental
magick stuff that made up the universe. If I concentrated, I could feel that physical
presence, the disturbance in the soil where she lay. It was usually such a loathsome
skill, to be able to feel the dead... but right then, it made me feel better. It told
me that she was here... somewhere... everywhere, and that she could feel and hear me,
too.

"There's so much I never got to tell you, Buffy. So many things I wanted to share
with you... to show you. I thought I'd come and maybe... I don't know."

I looked up at the crystal clear night sky... how it sparkled with a billion stars...
and I imagined her smiling down on me from her place among them.

"I guess the point's kind of moot, now. Wherever you are, you probably already know
all the answers to everything. But... I still need to say it."

I stared at her headstone again and pondered where to begin. 'How about the
beginning?' I could almost hear her whisper.

"For a hundred years I wandered... lost... empty. No... not empty. I was full. Full
of pain and regret and guilt... there was nothing but cold and darkness inside of me,
as much as outside. But the first time I saw your smile... everything changed, just
like that. It was like... the Powers gave me back the sun."

"You were so young... so innocent, and still... you taught me more about life...
about living... than anything else in my entire existence. You taught me about
courage... about laughter... love. You taught me what it meant to really be *strong*.
To be *alive*."

I had to stop for a moment before I went on. These were things I had so long buried
in the deepest recesses of my heart, and I found as they resurfaced, that they
carried with them even heavier, sharper emotions that I had long forgotten. Here I
was, laying my heart out on the grave of the only woman I had ever loved... and the
simple fact was... it hurt. More deeply than an eon in Hell... more completely than
walking away from her...more acutely than her tears when I told her that the Oracles
were taking away our single, perfect day together...

God, did it hurt. But I plunged on.

"You know that I would give anything to bring you back. Even just for a moment.
Just... to thank you for everything you gave me. And... for honoring me with your
love. You changed my life, Buffy. You helped me want to be someone. I don't think
that... even if we got to have a lifetime together, that I could ever find enough
ways to show you what you truly mean to me... how much a part of me you are. Every
step I take in this world... every soul I help... every battle I fight, every single
act of goodness I perform... it's all because of you."

She was my Reason. She was the meaning that made every arduous step of my journey
worth taking. And now... now I would have to do it all in her memory.

"I let you think, once, that I didn't want to be with you. I hope you know that
wasn't true. That was never true. I would trade everything I have to be with you
right now. And forever. But... I know that where you are, you're finally at peace.
And I guess... that's enough. You deserve that rest. I love you, Buffy. I'll always
love you, with all of my heart. And I'll never forget a single moment we shared. If I
live until the end of time, I'll never, ever forget you."

I reached into my pocket and drew out my final gift for her... the twin of the ring
that I gave her all those years ago, before our dreams dissolved into nightmares, and
the future crumbled out from beneath us.

I traced the worn lines of heart, crown and hands... love... loyalty... friendship.
In the end, we had them all. She would always have my heart. I would always be loyal
to her memory. And I would always, always consider her my friend.

"Is duine a ghra thusa, anail le mo anam. Beidh se amhlaidh go deo," I whispered,
setting the ring into the grass at the base of her headstone, and with one final
glance, rose and walked away.

Again... without saying goodbye. I had never been able to really say it to her when
she was alive, and I certainly couldn't now.

Because I knew, deep in the very center of my being, that Doyle was right.
Somehow... someday...we would be together again.

***

I slept long and hard that sunrise, and Buffy came to me in my dreams.

It was nothing new to have her there. There had been many times when her presence in
my sleep was the only thing that helped me hold on. Although other times, I admit,
those nights were almost the final straw that broke the camel's back, because the
feeling of missing her was so powerful.

But I remember clearly that this time was different. The sensations were so vivid...
the scent of her skin... the sweet taste of her lips... the raging, devouring inferno
of our passion as we made love.

My reward, I imagined, for letting her go. Beautiful, brilliant sensations to carry
me through my lonely eternity.

"Angel..." she whispered... and she softly kissed along the edge of my ear, sending a
tremor down my spine. I could feel wakefulness threatening... that lightening of the
shadows of sleep that told me soon this dream would be over, and I would once again
be desolate. I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut and refused to rise.

Just a little while longer... please...

"It's time to wake up, my love..."

No. Not now. Later. Later, I can get up and face forever alone. But right then I
wanted to relish the feeling of her living heat against me... wanted to keep holding
her, just like that. Just another day... another hour... another minute, and then I
would let go.

Her kisses wandered softly... from my mouth, around my jaw, down my throat. I sighed,
consumed half by this passion, half by the sorrow of knowing...

Would I really never feel this again?

"Buffy..." I whispered, tangling my fingers in her hair as she continued kissing
downward, tracing each inch of my burning skin with tender care.

Even her memory set me on fire. Perfect, flawless, endless bliss as she finally rose
above me, and took me deep inside of her, and we rode crest after crest of impossible
dreams together.

When it was done... when the last of me was spent deep in the center of my love, the
echo of her final cry still hanging in the air, I opened my eyes.

To find Buffy smiling down at me. "Don't tell me you really slept through that."

You may have heard that vampires have unbelievable speed and reflexes. Well, at that
moment, I proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. I stared at her for a split second,
before I realized that I was awake when she said,

"'Morning, sleepyhead," and pressed a tiny kiss to the tip of my nose.

In the next breath, I was up, out of the bed, standing naked in the corner of my
bedroom with my sword in hand.

Staring at Buffy, equally naked and now very, very confused, kneeling among my
rumpled sheets.

There's very little in the cosmos that I'm afraid of -- no doubt a side effect of a
few hundred years in Hell. Cordelia's coffee scares me. Chickens scare me. The idea
that all of my mortal friends might someday die and leave me alone makes me want to
fall apart.

But I had never experienced the kind of pure terror that I did in that moment.

Buffy's confused look changed to amusement, and she cocked a wry eyebrow at me.

"Not that the whole naked barbarian with a sword thing isn't really, *really* hot,
but... what are you doing?"

Rage quickly leaked into my shock and fear. Whatever this thing was, how did it
*dare* take this form? I brandished my sword menacingly at the apparition, and
snarled, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Its expression shifted once again, now back to confusion, with no small dash of fear.

"What? Angel... this isn't funny," it complained, slowly rising from the bed.

I started shaking. So hard that I could barely keep the sword in my grasp as it came
closer.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed at it.

The Buffy-thing started as if I'd struck it, and gave me a dark frown. "What's the
matter with you?"

I couldn't back any further away from this... monstrosity wearing my dead lover's
face. And I couldn't collect enough of my sense to attack it... or, really, do
anything but stand there, panting and trembling.

It kept coming toward me, one small hand outstretched as though I were a dangerous
animal.

"It's okay, honey... it's me. Buffy," it insisted.

My brain suddenly kicked in, a cacophony of confusion and disbelief echoing in my
skull. It couldn't be her, and yet... it looked like her. Every detail... every inch
of her skin... every small movement of her body. It smelled like her... like us... a
musk of love and sex, vanilla and honeysuckle. It sounded like her... those were her
eyes. It was Buffy.

"No," I muttered, shaking my head. "No, it can't be. It can't be you."

She was barely a foot away, now, her posture tense, ready for anything. If this was
some creature sent to take me out, it was going to succeed, because I was utterly
unable to move.

"Angel, it *is* me. Please... tell me what's going on."

I lost it... choked on all the conflicting emotions and instincts fighting for
supremacy inside of me. Desire to grab her and never let her go... to cleave the head
from this thing that dared the sacrilege of taking on her form. I wanted to run. To
scream.

Apparently, I chose the latter, because Buffy jumped clear back to the bed, and a few
moments later, the suite door burst in to admit a very frightened Cordelia and
Wesley.

I spun to stare at them, still holding the sword.

"OH! Naked! Too much naked!" Cordy cried, covering her eyes.

Wesley was unruffled by my nudity. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it, after all.
"Angel, what happened? We heard you screaming." Then he noticed Buffy, and instantly
turned a deep, bright crimson as he averted his eyes. "Oh, dear lord. I'm sorry. We
thought... we didn't mean... Oh, my."

Buffy kept her eyes on me as she slipped into my robe. "It's okay, Wesley."

"Angel, what are you DOING?" Cordy yelped from behind her hands. "What is going on in
here?"

I couldn't stop gaping at the Buffy-thing. "You two see her?" I asked the others,
gesturing at it with my sword.

"Well, yeah!" Cordy snorted. "We've sort of had to see her constantly for the past
month! Well... except for all the days you've been locked up in here. Then we only
had to *hear* her. Which, believe me, is just as bad."

"Something's really wrong with him," the Buffy-monster told them. "He woke up, took
one look at me, and totally freaked."

Wesley moved toward me, taking the same cautious approach that Buffy had. "Angel? Do
you know who I am?"

I shot him a withering look. "Of course I know who you are."

"But you don't know who Buffy is?"

"I know who that *looks* like," I corrected him, "But it's not. It can't be." All of
the adrenaline seemed to leave me in a rush, and I finally let the point of the sword
drop to the floor as I forced myself to look away from the Buffy phantom. My voice
was barely a broken whisper. "It can't be her, Wesley. It can't. She's..."

My friend finally reached me, and took the sword gently from my hands. "All right.
It's all right. Why don't you get dressed, and we'll figure out what's happened to
you."

I glanced up again at Buffy. Her expression was wounded, her eyes filled with tears
of hurt and concern.

Could it be? Had the Powers, by some miracle, brought her back to me?

"B...Buffy?" I asked, not daring to hope. My mind kept telling me... this was
impossible. She was gone. I had said farewell to her just the night before, at her
grave. "You... you're... dead."

Her eyes went wide. "What? No. Really. I'm not," she insisted, gesturing down over
her body, now sheathed in my black robe. "I swear. Look. Alive and well."

I still couldn't move from my spot against the wall, all of my energy spent keeping
myself upright while my brain scrambled for some explanation for how this could be
happening.

Was I dreaming now? I pinched myself... she was still there. Had I finally died too,
and Heaven (or maybe a different Hell) turned out to be nothing more than my everyday
life, but with Buffy in it? Was I poisoned? Under a spell? Hallucinating?

"What the Hell is going on?" I finally wondered aloud. "How..." I shook my head. "How
is this possible? I don't understand."

Everyone seemed to relax a little when it became apparent that I wasn't going to kill
them all. Buffy walked around the bed and approached me once more, and this time,
though I watched her warily, I let her touch me. She gently took my hand, and...

It was real. There was that spark that always caught between us, every time we
touched. That tiny current of living electricity that was our bond. It rushed through
me, snapping my long-dulled nerves to screaming life. There was nothing else in the
cosmos... no magick or being in creation... that could effect me the way that she
did.

"It... it's you," I gasped. "It's really you."

She nodded, giving me a teary-eyed smile, and I could see it there in her eyes...
that glow that they always carried when she looked at me.

"It's me, baby. I swear," she assured me softly, and led me back to sit down on the
bed before looking over at Cordy and Wesley, who still hovered in the doorway.
"Guys... could you..."

Cordelia gave a worried scowl, but Wesley nodded and herded her from the room, my
sword still firmly in his hand.

Then Buffy sat down beside me. I could feel the heat of her skin... hear her
heartbeat as though it were my own. She looked deeply into my eyes.

"It's okay, Angel. I'm here. Everything's all right, I promise."

I don't know how long I sat there, trembling, gaping at her... experiencing a
sensation I thought lost forever: the simple blessing of her presence.

She was there. She was alive. She wasn't buried in the cold, hard ground back in
Sunnydale. She wasn't gone forever.

My Buffy was right next to me... exactly where she belonged. Exactly as I had wished.

"Oh god!" I cried, and before I knew what I was doing, I pulled her into my arms,
crushing her against me, smothering her with desperate, grateful kisses. "You're
alive! Thank God! Oh, Buffy! I love you!"

I broke down yet again. It seemed for the millionth time, I was overcome with emotion
as I held her... kissed her, pressed my ear against her breast to hear the strong
thumping of her heart. And I vowed--to her, to myself, and to the Powers That
Be--that I would never, ever leave her side again.

***

Afterthoughts: Buffy

It was really scary to see Angel lose it like that. I mean... not in an "I lost my
soul, psychotic nutjob mass murderer" kind of way, but in an "alternating between
sobbing senselessly and laughing like a manic depressive on acid" sort of way.

I was way creeped, to say the least. But... I'll admit, at the same time, I loved all
the incredibly beautiful and heartbreaking things he said to me as he cried.
Especially the way, when he finally came to his senses again, that he looked deep
into my eyes and promised that he would never, ever leave me again.

I could tell that he meant it. And I don't think I need to say how that made me
feel.

After a while--a *lot* of kisses and reassurances that no, I really wasn't dead--we
managed to get dressed and join the others. We all sat down and talked, and Angel
refused to stop touching me for even a moment. It was so weird... me, Cordy, Wes and
Fred had to rehash the past couple of weeks as if he hadn't been right there with us.
The whole blind luck thing that I fell through the portal after fighting with Glory,
and landed right on the roof of that boat Angel insists is a car. How I was really
beat up, so they had to take me back to the castle for medical attention. (Honestly,
I was *really* surprised that he forgot that part, considering how worried he was
when it was happening.) How we spent a couple of days together while I mended. How
his friend Lorne told us he could see that we had a common destiny, and this other
green guy -- Numfar, I think his name was -- did this weird dance as he told Angel
that there was nothing wrong with his soul. It was whole, intact, and completely
un-losable. I still laugh, remembering that part. Lorne said it was The Dance of Joy
.

Due to the mixed company, I skipped the part about how me and Angel screwed like
bunny rabbits for two days straight after finding out about his soul. Then we came
home. We told him about the big "Yay, Buffy isn't Dead!/Yay, the World Didn't
End!/Yay, Xander's getting married!" party Willow and Tara threw, and how I had been
here practically every day since.

Angel just sat there looking lost through the whole thing. When we were done, he told
Wesley he thought the two of them should get together with Giles and discuss what he
remembered. But he wouldn't tell me what that was. Even after we made love later, he
flat out refused to say a word, insisting that it didn't matter.

Everything was different, somehow, after that night. Not that being with Angel hadn't
been one incredible, amazing, mind-blowing moment after another all along, but...
that night, he was so gentle... so loving, a couple of times I found myself crying
right along with him. It was like being reunited all over again... times a thousand.

Funny... even all these years later, he still won't talk about it. I don't know why,
I mean, it's not like we have any other secrets. He eventually told me all about The
Day That Wasn't (which, considering he had already Shanshued at that point, wasn't
all that important). He even shared some of his memories of Hell. And let's face it,
when a guy has stood between your legs during three really long, painful labor
sessions (the first of which left him with a black eye and three broken fingers)
there's really *not* a whole lot of mystery left in your relationship. But he won't
tell me why he thought I was dead, or what freaked him out so badly that afternoon.

Wesley and Giles know. But when I ask, Wesley just smiles and says he promised Angel
he wouldn't tell, and Giles gives me this sort of mushy look and then grabs me in a
completely un-Gilesy hug, and says it's not important. The Host is the only one
who'll really give me any kind of answer. He told me one day that the power of love
was nothing to scoff at. It could bring people back from Hell... or from the dead.

As usual, I have no idea what he's talking about, but... whatever. I guess it really
isn't important. I'm not dead, and whatever it was that happened made Angel swear he
would never leave my side as long as he lived. It makes him stop sometimes and look
at me like I'm the most amazing, miraculous thing he's ever seen. So I figure, hey...
it's all good, right?

The End. *relieved sigh*

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