disclaimer in part 1

Swan Song
By Diane
-----
THE PROMISE

Angel made his way slowly into Buffy's kitchen. Away from
all of them.

He had tried to research, he really had, but the words kept
blurring in front of him, into nothing but a jumbled mess of
alphanumerics. The problem became compounded when Giles and
Wesley kept handing him texts that weren't in English,
knowing he was one of the few in the group who was
multilingual.

The Gaelic texts were the real kicker. He had gotten so
cross-eyed, he had just given up and left. Buffy had been
too absorbed in her own book to notice.

He set himself down on a stool and collapsed his head into
his hands, letting the soft humming of the refrigerator lull
him into nothingness. There was this weird, shaky feeling
all over, racing through him, and it took him a moment to
realize that in all this time, he hadn't eaten. Not a bite.

He turned to glare at the refrigerator. The box of crackers
left out on the counter. The loaf of bread.

But he didn't move.

He just kept staring them down until he gave up, and with a
sigh, collapsed back into his hands. His hands. The powers
had finally decided that his hands were clean. No blood
there anymore.

But why? _WHY_? So soon after his brush with his darker
side, his plummet into Darla's waiting arms, he didn't
really think he deserved it.

He didn't feel clean.

He could still see the blood there, coagulating over the
skin of his hands in a sticky, wet, viscous mess. Dripping
of his fingertips, onto the counter below...

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

< Buffy was fine. Buffy was fine. Buffy was fine.
Fine. Fine. Fine, fine, fine fine finefinefinefine. >

He snapped his head back, inhaling sharply with flaring
nostrils.

Blinking, he tried to relax again.

Tried not to think about anything in particular.

< How can we be together if the cost is your life? >

He snapped back again, almost falling off the stool this
time. Breathing hard, he got up and shook his head before
sitting back down again. He would not think about this.
He would not think about this. Would not think. No. NO.
NONONO.

< A minute? No. No, it's not enough time! >

Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed several times, but
he started spiraling into memories with abandon. Moaning,
he remembered the first time. The first time that this
had happened.

< Shhh, you're all right. That's all that matters. Shhh,
you're all right. And it's over. And we're together... >

< It never happened... >

< No. I'll never forget. I'll never forget. I'll never
forget... >

"Angel?"

Buffy poked her head in the kitchen, looking at him
worriedly.

He swallowed, shakily released from the prison of
flashbacks. "Buffy," he whispered, placing his hands on the
countertop to keep himself from falling over. He was so
hungry... Starving.

She was behind him, hugging his waist at once. "What's
the matter?" she asked, resting her head in the dip between
his shoulder blades. She fit perfectly against him, and he
could feel the heat of her body.

Warm.

Sighing, he tried to recover. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong.
Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he responded as she
started kissing the back of his neck. Soothing...

"Because you're lying."

He froze. "No I'm not." Caught with his hand in the cookie
jar, it seemed. He didn't dare look at her. Didn't dare
meet those soft hazel eyes. Because he knew he wouldn't be
able to deny anything she asked of him if he did.

Buffy laughed bitterly. "And I didn't just jump into a
portal, intent on dying. Angel, come on. Do something new
and adventurous. Talk to me."

When he didn't respond, she moved on, hesitant. Her touch
became unsure as she backed off of him a little. "You're
not..." she began, "You're not going to leave again, are
you?"

Pain bit through him, and he felt his heart stabbing him
underneath his breastbone. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Thump-thump. "No, I'm not going to leave. Not unless you
ask me to. Why?" He squeezed his eyes shut.

< A minute? No! No, it's not enough time! >

"Because you're doing the distance thing again. Like
before. The 'I'll make all of Buffy's life altering
decisions for her and not ask her, because it's for her own
good' distancing thing."

The cynical waves pouring from her were not lost on him.

Finally he turned, placed his hands on her cheeks, and
stared into her eyes. Feeling himself crumble in that gaze,
he sighed. "I'm not leaving. And I'm not lying." He
cupped her chin, brought her lips to his, but she pulled
away.

"But you're lying about _something_. I can see it in your
face, Angel..." she protested.

Sighing, he felt the shaky feeling return full force, and
his weakening knees forced him to collapse backwards onto
the stool. "Sorry--" he mumbled, but Buffy already wasn't
listening.

"Are you sick?" she asked frantically, her hand on his
forehead.

"No, I--"

She didn't let him finish. "How long have you felt like
this?"

"Since I Shanshued, Buffy, I--"

"Were you going to tell me sometime before you fainted?" she
accused, her eyes flaring with anger. "Angel, when you
promise you're not going to leave, I'm counting things that
are in the non-physical sense, as well..."

"Buffy, I'm fine, I'm just..." He looked down at the floor,
at his feet, anywhere but her.

"Just what?"

"Hungry," he grit his teeth. "I'm hungry."

Her eyes widened for a second as she did some mental
calculations. "It's been, like... over twenty four hours
since you became human. You haven't eaten yet? Angel, why
didn't you _say_ anything?"

"Now you sound like Cordelia..." he grumbled, laying his
head on the table.

Buffy glared as she started moving around the kitchen,
grabbing pots and whatnot. Within minutes, there was a
steaming bowl of vegetable soup resting in front of him, and
a staring Buffy sitting across from him.

He inhaled the warmth rising upwards from the bowl, noticing
for the first time, how tangy and sweet it smelled. Good.
But he didn't eat.

It was weakness, staring him in the face.

Buffy sighed in frustration. "Look, I know that it's
probably not the best welcome back to humanity meal, but
it's fast, and it's healthy. So eat."

He blinked. His eyes wandered to Buffy, and then back to
the bowl. "I can't..."

Her eyebrow raised in disbelief. "What, did you have bad
digestion as a human, or something? There's no milk in
that, you can't claim lactose intolerance..."

Shoving away from the table, he sighed. "Buffy, it doesn't
have anything to do with that..."

Her hands were on her hips now. She was between him and
either exit, and now that he was human, there was no way he
was going to outrun her. He was trapped.

"What if I can't fight?" he whispered, finally giving in.

The look of confusion that spread across her face was
priceless. "Huh?"

"I'm human. What if I can't fight?"

Her eyes softened, then, her hands falling from her hips
limply as she walked over to him. "Angel, I'm sure you'll
still do fine. You still know _how_. You just can't get
all kamikaze like you used to..." she tried to assure him,
taking him in her arms.

"I couldn't protect you, last time. I couldn't protect you
and then you had to come save my ass when I was too cocky to
admit that I couldn't possibly win a fight by myself. What
if it's the same this time, Buffy?"

She shook her head in confusion, her head shaking back and
forth. "Last time. This time." Her hands waved
frantically in the air. "What are you talking about,
Angel?"

He stared at her pleading eyes, and prayed she wouldn't hate
him. "This isn't the first time this has happened, Buffy.
This is just the first time it wasn't an accident."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the outburst to come. The
anger. How could you do that to me, Angel?! How could you
make another decision for me? HOW COULD YOU?!!!

It never came.

She started to shake and tremble. Her grip on him loosened
and she stumbled. Without thinking, he turned and pulled
her to him. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm sorry. Please don't be
mad... I'm sorry..."

He was sobbing into her golden hair, salty tears slashing
downwards across his face like razors, waiting for the
terrible moment when she would remember what happened. When
she would remember what he had done...

She finally spoke. "You mean that it wasn't a dream? Ever
since that first time in L.A.... I kept having this dream
where..."

She didn't finish her sentence. She just stood there,
staring blankly into space, in the throes of some distant
memory.

"Buffy..." Angel whispered, trying to prod some reaction out
of her, even if all the action ended up doing was getting
him slapped in the face.

He was surprised to see her turn, no anger, nothing. Just a
steady, unblinking gaze. "Angel, you have to promise me you
won't try to get this Shanshu thingy reversed. Not even if
it's to protect me."

"Even if I wanted to, Buffy, I wouldn't even know _how_ to
get this reversed..."

"Promise. Me," she enunciated. Clear, concise. It was
obvious she wasn't letting him go until she heard, straight
out, that he was not intending to get his Shanshu revoked.

"I promise, Buffy," he muttered weakly.

She leaned in, stared at him, looking him straight in the
eye. "Good. Because returning gifts if you don't like them
is _rude_."

And then she kissed him.

continue